I got home from work today to find a wonderful surprise awaiting me! I saw some packing supplies laid out on the bed, but couldn't remember having ordered anything from an online shopping site.
"Jube? Do you know what this is for? Is it ours?" I asked.
"Yes, it is for us," he answered. "Come see!"
When I went into the kitchen, I saw a box on the counter. When I checked out what was inside, I was very pleasantly surprised: foie gras, champagne, tea, cookies, calissons d'Aix, and (less happily) brandade de morue. The special surprise was the champagne, which was the same kind served at our wedding. I dislike brandade, which is a kind of white fish paste, but Jube loves it, so I suppose I can't grudge him his favorites - especially when his family sent me some green tea, which he doesn't drink.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" I cried. "I hate it when I have toe cramps!"
"Let me see," said Jube. He pulled off my sock and massaged my foot for a bit. "What's this?" he asked, smoothing his thumb over the bone nearest to my toe. The skin was dry. "Are you developing an onion?"
We recently went back to Norfolk to get our furniture out of storage. We are almost totally moved in now! While we were there, we spent some time as tourists - we ate lots of good food, went shopping, and walked around the downtown. And then, on my way out of town, I voted for our new President-elect! Here is a mini photo essay of the trip:
The other day Jube and I decided to be tourists. Of course we have seen most of the monuments and a good number of museums in DC, but we certainly haven't seen all of them. We wanted to go to the International Spy Museum, but it turns out that it costs something like $14 to go in. We nixed that idea and instead chose to wander around Chinatown, where the museum is located.
Now, DC's Chinatown is not exactly authentic. I've been to New York's Chinatown, and was impressed by the atmosphere. In DC, the "atmosphere" comes from a local ordinance which requires all of the shops to have their names written in Chinese as well as English. That means that Anne Taylor Loft, Starbucks, and Urban Outfitters (all very typical Chinese corporations, as I'm sure you'll agree) have an extra sign.
While there is a distinct lack of Chinese culture, DC's Chinatown is still fun to visit. There is streetside shopping, a movie theater, the National Portrait Gallery and the International Spy Museum.
And a really cool looking Chinese arch.
And on the day we went, a group of people learning how to ride Segways.
Next time we go, we're eating at one of the restaurants. Yee haw!
Oh, and yes... pardon the 2 month absence... oops!
The other day at the mall, I was trying on some clothes when I heard the girl in the next dressing room open the door and call to her friend, "What do you think?"
Her friend called back, "Is it too small?"
I reflexively looked at the wall separating my dressing room from the girl's. I could almost feel the heat emanating from her angry body. Quiz: What was the proper response in this situation? I probably would have gone for something like, "It's okay," expressing some ambiguity with the ensemble without implying that my friend was (gasp) not a dainty little fairy!
"No!" she hissed back. "It's my size! Why?"
At least her friend knew the correct answer to this one: "Oh, it just looks a bit tight on the bust." Good comeback!
My Japanese coworker just bought a mini cassette recorder for her classes. Encased in one of those plastic boxes with no visible means of entry, it has forced her to pull out her scissors and poke viciously, then snag the blade and rip carefully.
"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, "This is harder than opening a fish!"
I looked over at her, laughing. "A fish?"
She laughed too, adding, "Yes, and you know, opening fishes is really an art."
During my old commute, I would drive a short way down Beach Drive. Beach is a winding road that traverses Rock Creek Park, 10 miles or so of lush forest that goes from Washington, DC to a street very close to my house. In the early mornings I sometimes see deer lurking in the brush on the side of the road, and in the afternoons bicyclists seem to think that they have the right of way (they travel in packs). I also see the same Metro commuters walking from Grosvenor Station back to their houses.
On one of my last days, I was driving through the morning mist when I saw a Metro commuter cross the road in front of me. I thought it was a bit strange that I'd never seen him before, but I figured that he might have left earlier than usual. Before my car drew level with him, he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road. Bemused, I tried to find him in the woods as I drove past, but all I saw was a small path leading through the underbrush.
I enjoyed imagining deer and commuters sharing the same paths every morning, and then I turned off of Beach and entered the Beltway, where no one shares the same path happily.
When Jube and I were still living in Montpellier, we used our bikes to travel everywhere. We used the bus lanes instead of the sidewalks, and once an old lady yelled at us as we were crossing her path, "Pas prudent! Pas prudent!"* We now say this whenever someone tells us that we should be more careful, or that something we did was stupid... for example, one of my new colleagues told me that she had never used the public bus in her entire life. "You just couldn't use the bus in Hampton Roads," she said, "it was too dangerous!" Jube and I used the HR Public Transit system often before we bought our car, and I'm sure we would have looked at each other and hissed, "Pas prudent!" at this announcement.
Anyway, we had a pas prudent moment in July, when I'd picked him up at the airport and was driving him back to Norfolk. We took Route 17 to 95 to 64, and it took about an hour on each of these roads. As we were entering 95 from 17, we noticed a blond surfer-looking dude at the side of the road with a sign that said "Virginia Beach." We chuckled for a moment that he would never find a ride down there, and then we both said, "Why don't we give him a ride?"
I've never hitchhiked or picked up a hitchhiker, but Jube has done both in France. So we pulled over and two blondies crammed themselves into the back of our little car. It turned out that they were Russians, in the US on summer J-1 (working holiday) visas, and had traveled all around the US by Greyhound. They were finally out of money and had resorted to hitchhiking.
They were very well mannered young men from Siberia, and my only problem with them was that they kept talking. I had been ready for a nap, but unfortunately I let slip that I knew quite a bit about immigration processes, and they kept asking me for information about their visas.
By the time we arrived in Norfolk, we didn't want to drive all the way to Virginia Beach, so we dropped them off downtown outside of the library. They gave us a nu-metal CD (I had unwisely told them that Jube liked heavy metal) and their gratitude.
Whenever I tell anyone about our hitchhiking adventure, they all say the same thing. "I can't believe you picked up hitchhikers! That's so dangerous!"
Jube and I catch each other's eye, and we both think the same thing. "Pas prudent!"
On Labor Day Weekend, Jube and I had set up a busy schedule: Planet Arlington World Music Festival on Saturday, Picnic on the Mall on Sunday, family barbecue on Monday. Only Saturday and Monday succeeded, and all because I am a big idiot.
We were on the Metro, heading to Capitol South, when Jube realized that we were going the wrong way. We got out and started heading toward the escalators that connect the two directions. As we started up the moving stairs, Jube heard the train arriving on the other side.
"Hurry!" he told me, "We can still catch it!"
I had my doubts, but I still ran up the escalator. Or at least, I tried to run up. My flip flop caught one of the steps and I fell heavily on my left leg, bruising my knee and scraping my ankle. Because I am a cruel person and I wanted Jube to hurt as much as I did, I snapped, "Why did you make me run?" Tears had sprung to my eyes and I limped off of the escalator. It really really hurt! I've never felt as much pain in my life (well, maybe I have, but I certainly don't remember it feeling that bad!).
As I rode the other side's escalator down, I felt moisture on my leg. I looked at it and saw blood trickling past the bottom of my cropped pants. Strangely, I hadn't noticed any cuts, just a feeling of bruising around my knee. When I pulled up my pants leg, I almost fainted. Blood caked my knee and continued down my leg. In my bag, I had nothing to staunch the flow; no napkins, not even any receipts.
I started feeling nauseated and faint, so I sent Jube back up the killer escalator to find a station manager while I sat on the floor next to one of the concrete barriers, whimpering to myself and swabbing at the blood with my now-stained pants. Jube couldn't find any help, so we decided to head home. (For some reason, I'd thought that I could still make it to the picnic if only the station manager had been there with a first aid kit!) Of course, by this time we were about half an hour away from home and I would have to limp through the Labor Day Weekend crowds with a bloody pair of pants, but we couldn't help that.
I managed to keep from puking or fainting until we got home, where I cleaned up my wound and gently placed myself on the sofa. And then, since we had managed to miss our vegan picnic gathering, I turned to my husband and moaned, "Jube... could you get me a big hamburger from Wendy's please?"
Now that I'm a Real Professional, I have money to buy things! Now, I really like clothes, but I don't usually buy really expensive items. I love Zara and Mango, but mostly during the sales; once in a while I'll check out Macy's, but I'm more likely to buy something from a thrift store. My wedding dress cost $120; its matching shoes cost $65.
One exception to my preferences occurred this summer, during the 4th of July holiday. It was right before job interview season (while I'd had a couple before, they were all phone interviews), and I wanted a nice outfit. Well, my mom and I headed to the mall, where we found huge sales. I bought a Calvin Klein interview suit, and I like to think that it helped me get my job(s). At the same store, I saw a bag I really wanted. I desperately wanted it - I needed something to go with my black suit, something nice, and this fit the bill: red leather, big enough for my portfolio, professional looking, and more! But... it cost $70. (Interestingly enough, when I expressed my feelings that $70 was too much for a bag, my friends were divided: some told me to just buy it, because it really wasn't very much money; others agreed with me and pushed me to turn it down. "Expensive" and "bargain" are highly subjective terms.) I just couldn't spend that much! And I didn't. A few days later I bought a cheaper version of my bag, made from synthetic material, still good looking enough...
Back to the present (2 months later...). I still wanted that bag. I really really wanted it. Even though I didn't have the excuse of "I need it!", I did have the excuse of a new paycheck. So during my lunch break, I drove to the mall and searched for it. I found it, but hesitated again, because now I had a red bag already! I went over to the bags on sale, and I saw my dreams come true: the same bag, on sale, in a khaki color. Perfect! I snapped it up.
That night I showed Jube my new bag. "Isn't it great?" I enthused.
"How much did it cost?" he asked.
I get very offended when he asks me how much my clothes cost, because for some reason I hear criticism of my spending habits. I really don't think he means any, but my gut reaction is always to snap back something like, "It cost less than your GT-10!"
Which is what I said.
"Gem, I don't care how much it cost!" he told me. "You're the one who always likes to tell me about your good deals!" Which is true. "I just think it's funny that all your bags are kind of... preppy looking."
I'd never thought of it that way before. "Preppy looking? And the rest of my clothes aren't?"
He gave me the once-over. "Well, no. Not at all."
"I guess I just like preppy bags." And I've been using it ever since!
On Sunday, Jube and I went to the Maryland Renaissance* Festival. I've been to the Ren Fest in Ohio, and I always had a good time. Jube has been to Medieval Festivals in France, as well as a Breton Celtic music festival, so he's (sort of) been exposed to the Ren Fest mentality. However, I don't think he realized that most of the Ren Festers were also D&Ders, WoWers, Trekkies, Goths, etc. There was even someone dressed up as Farm Boy/the Dread Pirate Roberts (complete with ROUS)... but I don't think Jube recognized him.
Throughout the day, Festival-goers were making strange hand signs at Jube, saying strange things to him, or otherwise winking at him. He didn't get it until someone walking by said, "Wow!" in an admiring voice. He looked around, confused, and then he looked down at his shirt. It said "WOW! Week of Welcome 2007, Old Dominion University." Of course, the "Week of Welcome 2007, ODU" was in much much smaller print, leading everyone to believe that Jube actually knows what the acronym MMORPG stands for... or something. He should just have worn a Metallica shirt - at least then they would know what kind of geek he really is.
*I love speaking French. Before living in France and learning the language, I could never spell Renaissance correctly! It also helped with the word medieval. But not annihilate...
Wow, it's been a long time, huh? I'll bet everyone's been depressed because they haven't had one of my posts to read. Well, let me give you the short version of what I've been up to since Montpellier:
I got back to the US on July 2. Between July 9th and August 15, I had 7 job interviews in 3 states (Virginia, Maryland, and California) and the District of Columbia. I was offered one of the jobs, which I accepted. But after a week in, when I e-mailed the last "still under consideration" employer, they told me they really wanted me and managed to convince me to leave my new job. So, on September 22, I will start my latest (and hopefully steadiest!) job! Jube and I will be living in Silver Spring, Maryland, and I'll be taking the Metro to work. I'm very excited about ditching my car, for many reasons: gas prices; "green" concerns; Beltway traffic; and, of course, the opportunity to fall asleep while traveling to work and not dying.
So, with that out of the way, here's a little story about Jube and me:
The vestiges of Hurricane Hanna blew through the DC area last Friday night and Saturday. With all of the humidity, I knew I would have to take good care of my hair to keep it in line... but, it was a weekend! On Saturdays I don't want to waste my time blow-drying my hair when I could be doing other things, like watching "The 15 Greatest Political Sex Scandals" on E! or eating leftover coconut shrimp from Red Lobster. So I finger combed my hair and let it be.
That night, Jube and I went to see a movie (Tropic Thunder. Ask me about it later). We drove to the new Rockville Town Center and walked around for about 20 minutes before the start of the show. We were dressed like "sporty bobos" (ODU cropped sweats and tightish sporty looking top for me; Adidas shorts and Atomic shirt for Jube), which we aren't (sports? Do you really think I have time to exercise when I can't be bothered to blow-dry my hair? Playing sports would require more showers, which would require more blow-drying, which makes me sweat, so it's really all counterproductive in the end, isn't it?). So anyway, we went to some Mexican chain restaurant that isn't Taco Bell, and while we were waiting for our food, Jube smiled at me.
"I see you've got Weekend Hair today."
What?? I was amazed that he noticed... but I guess I shouldn't have been. Jube notices lots of things that men "aren't supposed to notice," like my clothes, my hair, my makeup (if I'm wearing any).
"Yeah, I guess it is my Weekend Hair. Do you like it?"
"It's okay. Your Weekday Hair looks nicer though. But you're still cute."
Unfortunately, I was too tired after our long Sunday at the Renaissance Festival (expect a post soon) to do anything about my Weekend Hair, so today (a WEEKDAY, I might point out), I still have fluffy, sort of curly/wavy hair. I tried to dress it up with a headband, but it's still not Weekday Hair.
Five minutes into my workday, my supervisor asked me if I'd gotten a haircut.
Although I would love to write day-by-day posts of our outings to Montpellier, I figured I should really just put them all in one post. That way I won't forget anything! I love visiting my Beaux-Parents, and they are very kind to have us, saving us all kinds of money by making us our favorite foods, giving us free unlimited internet access, a bed to sleep in, and almost-daily laundry service. The only thing I don't like is how far away from Montpellier their town, Gallargues le Montueux, is! We have to drive for about twenty minutes on the highway (which costs something like 1€20) or take the "Route de la Mer," which (while following alongside the picturesque étangs) takes more like 45 minutes. Hey, I guess I should be happy they don't still live in Mende!
Trip 1: Okay, okay. Back to business. As you might imagine, I take any and every excuse to visit Montpellier. Two weeks ago on Monday, my excuse was: we'll check all of the video game stores in the Polygone and in Montpellier centre ville for the right version of the Xbox 360; afterwards we'll walk around the écusson, have kebabs, and then watch the France-Italy Euro 2008 game on the giant screen set up on the Place de la Comédie. We did all of this, and I took my traditional "pilgrimage" (as Belle-Maman calls it) to my favorite places in the city. Actually I was only able to do about half of the visiting I wanted, because les frangins (Jube and Le Pacha) were too tired to walk all the way to le Peyrou. So I visited St. Roch, Ste. Anne, la Rue de l'Ancien Courrier, and, between St. Guilhem and Ste. Anne, a tiny little dead-end street called Impasse Brun. This is where Jube and I had our first apartment, which we only lived in for a month while I attended French classes at the university. We borrowed it from one of his friends who was spending the summer in Ireland.
Afterwards, the food: kebabs, fries, sodas; then McFlurrys from MacDo. And then we sat down near the giant screen to watch the match. This was actually pretty fun to begin with; there were some Italian supporters who stood up and sang their national anthem to much heckling and throwing of non-lethal objects (like cigarette butts). Afterwards the rest of the crowd stood and roared out the Marseillaise (with much emphasis on Aux armes, citoyens!). Sadly, the World Cup Final rematch was not as exciting, with France losing 2-0. The crowd moped away dejectedly after it was over, and we went with them.
Trip 2: Jube and I visited the newly-reopened Musée Fabre, which at the moment has a special exhibit of Courbet. I was unfamiliar with the artist before going, but I really enjoyed the exhibition. He even painted the Roman bridge on the Vidourle that is about 10 minutes away from Gallargues, which I have visited many times (check out his route through Hérault here). That was really cool!
Trip 3: Jube and I were planning on spending all afternoon in Montpellier, but at the last second we decided just to go for a little visit and take le Pacha along with us. I decided that I wanted to see le Peyrou and the Cathedral, but fate was against us: as we moved uphill, we started hearing popping noises and shouting. We had run into a protest from the local wine producers! At first I was really annoyed, because I had wanted to see les Arceaux... but soon I realized that a protest was just as fun. We were very close, but just as we started moving closer, the CRS (riot police) shot some tear gas canisters into the air, and all of the onlookers turned and ran. Funnily enough, it looks like blogger Joy Suzanne and I just missed each other!
Trip 4 (aka sortie en amoureux): Jube and I get to spend a long, lazy afternoon in Montpellier. After visiting the gift shop of the Musée Fabre, we had a little drink at one of my favorite squares in the city, la Place St. Ravy. I had a pamplemousse pressé and Jube had a menthe à l'eau. Afterwards we finally made it to le Peyrou, and then headed down to the Jardin des Plantes for a little relaxation. We met a cute little cat there: And then we went up to the Place de la Canourgue for dinner. We had a great time, and I ended with a "café gourmand" that looked like this: That's a little tart, a cup of panacotta, and a "mint chocolate bomb." Yum!
A couple of days after the concert, Jube and I headed back to Nîmes, this time during the day. We stopped by Carrefour to see if they had an Xbox 360 for Le Pacha, but they didn't have the right one. Afterwards, we headed into town to walk around for a bit.
We saw les Arènes, as usual, and then went to the mall (fnac for Jube and Zara for me). We visited the Maison Carrée, but half of it is covered in scaffolding. It is being cleaned, and when that's finished, it's going to be really beautiful... but for the moment, it just looks sad. I had hopes of having a drink at the terrace restaurant of the Carré d'Artnext to the Maison Carrée... We've never been inside, but the Carré d'Art is a museum of modern art. It was inspired by the Roman temple of the Maison Carrée, but is very modern architecture - think lots of glass, metal, and decorative pipes. Belle-Maman hates it, but I think it's kind of neat!
Anyway, since we couldn't go in there (because the whole point was sitting where there is a good view of the Maison Carrée which is now covered in scaffolding and advertisements), I had the idea of going to les Jardins de la Fontaine for a drink! I really like the walk there. It goes by a calm canal lined with sycamores, which are reflected very green. Les Jardins include an old Roman library (called the Temple of Diana, for some reason!) and lots of 19th Century landscaping... pretty canals, little pleasure gardens, lots of staircases. This time, Jube and I climbed up the hill that usually serves as a background for les Jardins. It reminded me a bit of Barcelona's Park Güell in the way it just kept going! We climbed for awhile, and I started getting tired - remember, all I wanted was a drink at an outdoor café so we could relax for a bit! I was wearing a skirt and sandals, and we kept passing people dressed for hiking - or rather, they kept passing us.
But then we made it to the top, where we found la Tour Magne. I was surprised to have found a part of Nîmes I didn't know! We paid €5 to get inside, and then started the grueling process of climbing about a thousand tiny stairs to get to the lookout at the top. I almost passed out on the way, but we finally made it! The view was gorgeous - we could practically see all the way back to Gallargues! We saw all of Nîmes from above. I was amazed! I'd never even heard of the Tour Magne!
Then we made our way back down to sealevel where I finally got to have my drink! Jube chose an apple juice and I had a diabolo fraise (which is just a fancy way of saying a Shirley Temple). We relaxed in the cool of the shade, watching little kids play in the puddles. And then we went back to Gallargues, where that evening I had a horrible headache (probably from climbing a million feet in the sun without drinking any water).
It was a wonderful day, and I only regret not bringing my camera - I thought that I'd seen everything there was to see in Nîmes, and I was wrong!
Okay, enough suspense: Jube and I did make it to the Radiohead concert! Before going, Belle-maman gave us the latest edition of the local paper, the Midi Libre, which talked about the band and gave a quick review of their show. It sounded really dull, actually, with fluorescent lights and "energy-saving" measures. That didn't really bug me, but since Jube isn't a fan (heresy, I know, but what can I do about it?) he was worried it would be boring.
It wasn't! He even admitted that the band was "tight" and "sounded professional," that Thom sang "in tune" and that he was "glad to have gone." Those are high words of praise from my husband, I tell you what! Here's a YouTube video of the concert taken from about the same vantage point as where we were standing.
Of course, I couldn't see as well as this camera, which is being held somewhere above our heads... I don't think I'm super short, and I don't have any complex about my height or anything, but I did find myself wishing I were taller...
Here is a shot from before the concert... this is actually from the night before, but it gives a good idea of how it feels to be in the Arènes de Nîmes, waiting for the show to start.
(Jube and I were down on the ground.)
My favorite songs of the night were: Just, Paranoid Android, Reckoner, 15 Steps, and, of course, Idiotheque, which was the big closer.
I don't think there can ever be a perfect night. At the concert at Shepherds Bush, when I saw Radiohead in London, one fan who'd slept all night on the pavement outside turned around with a nasty "Shhht!" while I was singing along with the music... In Nîmes, I didn't get close enough to the stage and probably bugged the hell out of the people around me by dancing to most of the songs. I also whacked someone's camera while dancing to the end of Paranoid Android... I haven't seen it on YouTube, but if you happen to see a video where the camera is nearly bashed to pieces during the last instrumental bit, I'm probably the cause.
Anyway, we had a great time, found a free parking space, and got home safely, so all in all I'd say it was a good night.
I'm sure that everyone has been wondering what's happened to me in the past two weeks. No? No one? Well, I'll tell you anyway!
Jube and I bought tickets to come to France! We bought them about a week before we arrived and decided not to post about it on the blog so as not to alert Belle-maman. She was very surprised to see us, and very happy too! Of course, there were some hics to our trip... I guess it's impossible to fly trans-Atlantic without having something go wrong. So here's the story:
I am returning to the US about 10 days before Jube for various reasons. Weirdly, my plane ticket was much more expensive than his, so we decided to fly on different airlines to save some money. He flew with Iberia, switching in Madrid, and I flew British Airways, changing airports and planes in London. We normally fly British Air, because for some reason, the tickets to the south of France are usually cheaper. I know that a lot of people have had problems with them, but they've never lost my bags or anything, so I like them.
No problems, that is, until this time. My flight from Washington was nearly two hours late. I rushed as fast as I could to Gatwick, and arrived 20 minutes before my plane was supposed to take off for Marseille. The gate was closed, but I still had a tiny hope that I could make it... up until the moment that they told me to go to customer service instead of security. I was so upset and jet lagged that tears started rolling down my cheeks in the airport. While explaining my situation to the representative, I could hardly catch my breath through my sobs. It was the first time that I'd ever missed a connecting flight in the 7 years that I've been traveling to Europe.
The woman who helped me was very nice, and pretended to ignore my tears, although she did say, "Oh, you must be so tired!" She booked me on the next flight to Marseille - leaving the next day, at 6:00 am. I almost started crying again when she told me I'd have to spend the night in a hotel. Luckily I had Beau-papa's phone number, and I called him to let him know my troubles. Then, after I deposited my checked bag and collected my boarding pass, I headed off to the Premier Travel Inn, with strict directions to be at the airport by 5:15 the next morning.
After I finally checked in to my room (and thanking my lucky stars that I had £2 in coins leftover from my last layover in London to pay the shuttle bus driver), I took a bath and cried. I ate my free dinner at 6:30 and was in bed by 8:00 pm, my alarm set for 4:30 the next morning.
Of course, the alarm didn't go off. I woke up at 5:15 and checked the time, immediately cursing and pulling on the clothes I'd set out the night before. I couldn't believe that I might miss my flight again, and this time with no backup plan. I ran through security and to the gate, relaxing only when I found that there were people behind me just starting to amble in the direction of the plane. Finally, by 9:00 French time, I was in Beau-papa's Renault Scénic heading toward Montpellier.
Next installment: did we make the Radiohead concert? Or were my tickets counterfeit?
Jube and I went to Harbor Fest last year, and we had a great time! This year we went just for the fireworks, because they were really awesome. They were just as good this time around.
We made one change over last year, though - this time, we brought our own food instead of buying the deep-fried goodness of fair food. This is what we had (we felt super healthy!):
Steamed shrimp with homemade aioli (Jube made the aioli without using our mixer, which I thought was pretty amazing!); Fresh salad with homemade vinaigrette, sundried tomatoes and bleu cheese; One avocado each; Water.
But we did get some good dessert after the fireworks were over.
As I ate the shrimp and ailoi, I though that our neighbors must be annoyed that we were eating so much garlic. I could barely stand to smell my own breath! But then I realized that the woman sitting to our right was screaming at every blast of the fireworks, "Pink! I want to see pink fireworks!" Then she called her friend during the grand finale and yelled over the noise, "Are you going to Bar Norfolk tonight? Are you going to Bar Norfolk tonight? 'Cause we're downtown and we could meet you there. We're downtown!" I figured that if she had been bothered by our smelly breath, she would have told us.
I bought them some time ago. Even then, I knew I shouldn't give in... I wasn't sure I could go to France in the summer, and they weren't the cheapest concert tickets I'd ever seen. But I knew they would sell out fast (they were gone by the next day), and how could I resist seeing this:
in this venue?
So if anyone wants to finance my ticket to France in the next 2 weeks, I can promise to provide you with a ticket to the show.
The other day Jube asked me if my blog was dead. "Of course not!" I said, but then I realized that I really haven't been doing a good job of updating. So here's a try to get back into the swing of things:
I graduated on May 10! Now I just have to find a job.
BB visited, and we had a great time. He now knows that Norfolk, Virginia is really awesome.
Since finishing classes, I've been reading lots of books and updating lots of resumes.
Now, for something completely different (and vastly more amusing):
The other day, Jube, Lorene and I went to the president's house for dinner. Yes, that's right, I'm in tight with President Runte of Old Dominion University! (Actually we went for a different reason, but it sounds good to say that I know her really well, right? Except that now she's going to be president of a Canadian university, so bye bye reference...) Jube's real last name is the same as a relatively famous French author. Let's say his name is Jube Rousseau (as the French say, why not?) President Runte has her PhD in French Literature, and as she gave us our nametags she said, "Did you know that Rousseau was a famous French author?"
"Oh yes," said Jube.
"Ah! Et vous parlez francais?" she asked.
"Oui, oui, bien sur," he answered.
She turned towards the nametags again, and mistakenly addressed me: "Et d'ou est-ce que vous venez, alors?"
I thought about answering, "De l'Ohio," but instead Jube told her he was from Montpellier.
"Wonderful, wonderful," she said, abstractedly. "Well, bon appetit!"
As we were leaving, she again spoke to Jube, asking about his future plans. I jumped in, to prove that I could speak French too, and we chatted a bit about where we would find jobs. She mentioned moving to Canada, as she was doing, and I made a stupid joke about writing down her phone number to call her later. (She didn't laugh very hard.) Poor Lorene, who speaks German very well but not much French, pretended like she was listening to the conversation.
"Bon, bien, au revoir!" she said.
"Au revoir!" Jube and I answered.
"Au revoir!" put in Lorene, as we were leaving. On our way back to the car, we all burst out laughing. "I had no idea what she said, but I think that it looked good to say that, right?"
This blog is about Gem's life. She lives in Maryland with her husband, Jube. She just started her career. Her blog deals a lot with France and Europe, since that's where she has spent three years of her life. (Written by Jube, her husband.)
