Cultural Misunderstandings

Jube works with immigrant youth, helping them integrate to life in the US. Part of his job is helping them find internships and jobs, which includes talking to their supervisors and things like that. The other day, one of his students' supervisors contacted him with a concern.

"It's kind of embarrassing, and I don't know how to bring it up with him..." she said.

"What's wrong? I can talk to him about it," said Jube.

"Well... you see... he doesn't wear deodorant. And in the summer, well... you understand."

"Oh, yes," he answered. "In some cultures, deodorant just isn't as important as it is in the US."

"What, do you think he's from France?" she said.

...She was serious. Poor Jube.

Jubisms

On Incubus:

They're a pretty good band. They did this album with a lot of different styles, even some jazzy stuff. But it wasn't actually jazz, so it wasn't like . . . [insert retching sounds here].

On his sartorial choices in the evening:

Why . . . am I not wearing pants?

On Facebook:

Jube: I really should de-friend this guy.

Gem: Why, who is he?

Jube: Oh, my oldest friend.

Gem: What?

Jube: Well, he's really stupid! The only reason we were friends is because we met when we were two, and I couldn't tell how stupid he was.

On Glee:

Jube: [While I am watching Glee, during a musical number]: Is this Glee?

Gem: Uhh, yes. Isn't it kind of obvious?

Jube: No! It's in a school! That's all there is on TV - schools and hospitals. How am I supposed to tell the difference?

Ho Ho Ho!

We're off to my parents' house for Christmas. We're taking all of these gifts with us to open there. I couldn't help putting them under our own little Christmas tree to make it just that much more festive!

Jube and I have been having an epic "guess the gift" battle. I got him something I know he won't be able to guess, and it's been hilarious to tease him and hear his suggestions. He's convinced I got him a guitar or a Metallica DVD or some new headphones or even a video game. He's got no idea.

Of course, I don't know what I've got waiting for me, either. And he upped the ante - apparently at first he got me something (ugh) practical, but then he heard me complain about getting something for the house and he returned it. So I really want to know what the first - returned! - gift was. A food processor? Kitchen knives?

We'll find out tomorrow! Happy holidays to you all. I hope you find out what all of your gifts are, too!

Sexy Texty Monday

A quick followup from Sunday's SMS exchange:

Gem to Jube (06/09/09, 4:52pm, just getting out of work and heading to her bus in the sweltering heat): omg fing hot!

Jube to Gem (06/09/09, 4:54pm): what is hot?

Gem to Jube (06/09/09, 4:56pm): the weather. what, u thought i saw federer?

Probably wisely, Jube only addressed the weather in his return text.

Red-Handed

As we were watching TV, a commercial for the new Star Trek came on. Glancing at Jube from the corners of my eyes, I said, "I think we should go see Star Trek."

Without looking at me, he said, "Okay, sure. When?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe this weekend?"

Surprised that I was following through, he turned to face me. "You really want to see it?" Poor Jube. He hates Star Trek and tries to convince himself that I don't like it as much as I do. Not only that: he thinks that the movie looks terrible, and has told me so every time we catch a trailer. Come to think of it, maybe he was trying out some preemptive strikes to keep me from broaching the topic...

"Well, yeah!" I said, "I like Star Trek!"

"I bet I know why you suddenly want to see it: You read a review on salon.com and now you want to see it."

"No, no! I just want to see it! I like science fiction!"

Grumbling, he said, "All right, maybe we'll go." He grabbed the laptop and opened it up to surf the net while I watched TV. Too late, I realized what was on the screen: a review of Star Trek.

"I knew it! I know you too well!"

"No, no, it's not what you think. It's not salon.com!"

Lottery

Yesterday was a beautiful day, with warm weather and cloudy skies. Jube and I took a walk through the park near our house. On our way home, Jube turned to me with a fait divers from that morning's newscast.

"You know someone around here won $150 million in the lottery! They're just waiting for him - or her, I guess - to come pick it up. On the news they interviewed some guy who said he was so happy for whoever won, like painting a picture of him - 'He's probably in debt, and this money will help him get out of this poor area' or whatever."

"That's interesting. You know, I've heard that winning the lottery can really mess up your life, like you lose all of your close relationships because of money."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that too. It can definitely mess up your life for some people. But that wouldn't happen to me."

Economic Hardship

Everyone I know is talking about the economy. It's hard to find jobs, hard to keep jobs, money's not worth what it used to be, we can't buy what we want, more people are laid off, we're finding ways to save, etc. Luckily for Jube and me, we're doing okay. My job is pretty secure and we're not worried.

But all the advice about saving and not spending must have gotten to me, because when it came time for a trim of my bangs, I didn't want to shell out the $12 for a professional. Instead, I cut them myself. This was a few months ago, and I ended up with Amelie-style shortshortshort bangs. I also have a small forehead, so to have those Amelie-style bangs, I had to practically shear my bangs. They were only about an inch and a half long. Oops.

So for the next few months, I didn't have to cut my bangs at all! In fact, when I did go the salon for a trim I couldn't do myself (the back is still out of my range), the hairdresser scolded me. "These are much to short! Who cut them?" When I admitted that I had, she said, "Never do that again. Never!"

Just this past week, I realized that my bangs were curling at the ends and getting into my eyes. The rest of my hair looks good, though - just a trim of the bangs was needed. I still couldn't justify the price, but I remembered my promise never to do it myself again. So I called on my trusty sidekick, Jube. I prepped him: "Can you cut my hair for me?"

He let out a shocked laugh. "What? Cut your hair? What put that into your head?"

"Well, I don't want to pay for it."

"But I've never done it before!"

"That's okay. It can't be worse than what I did myself."

After a few more minutes of resistance, he reluctantly agreed to do it.

The next evening, after my shower, I pulled out the scissors. "Let's get it over with!" I cried. It was almost an adventure! I told him to cut it at about the level of my eyes, straight across. After making the first few cuts on the left, he followed the length along to the right.

"Done," he told me, looking pleased - until he stepped back and looked at the final product. "Oh no! How did that side end up so much longer than the other?" He cut some more, finally finishing a reasonably straight line.

"I don't know how they do it," he told me. "Cutting hair is hard!" But at least we did our part for our savings account.

Who?

9:18 p.m. Watching TV.

Gem: Tu la trouves jolie?

Jube: Who?

Gem: Her. There - with the pretty dark hair.

Jube: Her? No way!

Gem: Really? I think she's pretty.

Jube: She looks like Michael Jackson.

It smells a bit strange...

This evening I had a cramp in my big toe.

"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?"

Style

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!

The Geeks Unite!

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...

Ketchup and Weekend Hair

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.

First Lesson: Gender!

Jube recently volunteered to teach a community education course at a nearby school: Introduction to French Culture and Language. He was in for a bit of a shock when he read the course description...

"If you want to learn about France and its language, what better person to learn from than Jube? She is a native of France, educated at Universite Montpellier III in the south of France, and she has worked at several middle and high schools in France as an English teacher. Her informative course will cover beginning French for travelers/tourists, a discussion of contemporary French culture, and analysis of French stereotypes."

"One of my coworkers pointed it out to me," he said. "I guess the first thing I do will be to make sure they know I'm the teacher! Actually, maybe I could get you to teach the class... they'll never know the difference!"

Happy Anniversary!

Yesterday was our first anniversary. We weren't planning on celebrating on the real day, because I had to prepare a big presentation for class. But when I got home, Jube needed to go out and get some supplies for work that he'd forgotten before, so we made a night of it and went to the Indian restaurant. Our waiter was very nice, although I think he was embarrassed to talk to women, so he addressed all of his conversation to Jube. Unfortunately Jube finds it quite difficult to understand Indian accents, and he kept trying to direct our waiter's attention toward me.

We had already gone out to eat for our anniversary on Friday night. We headed to The Monastery restaurant in downtown Norfolk. It is a very nice place with an Eastern European theme. I had duck with sauerkraut while Jube had the entrecot de boeuf grille aux champignons - the waitress said that he was the first person to pronounce it correctly.

The part of the meal that I was most excited about was our appetizer - raclette! It wasn't real raclette, since the cheese was pre-melted for us and came out as a puddle on the plate, but it tasted very authentic.

And that was how we celebrated our first year of marriage!

Refurry

After writing about my mp3 player-less state a couple of posts ago, I decided to treat myself and bought an iPod nano (2nd generation). It only cost about $80 because it was refurbished! What a wonderful idea it was to refurbish old models and sell them for cheaper! And with warranties and everything!

So after I ordered it, Jube teased me for awhile. You see, Jube has some kind of resentment for Apple... He says it's because everyone thinks they are SO COOL but really it's just overpriced and we should all buy the "normal" stuff because it's better. But when my refurbished iPod came in the mail, he realized that this made it affordable.

Of course, it hasn't softened him toward Apple.

But it has made him scour the internet for refurbished deals. I've had to deal with him saying, "One of these days we'll get one of those flatscreen TVs so I can play video games on it." But he knows we can't afford one right now. The problem is, now I'm hearing things like, "We can get this Philips TV for only $300! Isn't that a great deal?"

Oh well. At least the new Radiohead album is pretty rad on my new iPod!

Aw Man!

I can't believe it's been more than 2 weeks since I last posted! I am becoming a bad bad blogger! I've got all the same excuses: I've been busy, nothing has been going on, etc etc, but of course I have some stories. Here's tonight's:

Jube has been super nice lately. Today, while I was checking out some stuff on the internet, Jube gave me a nice back massage and gave me a little cuddle. And then he said, "You know I must really love you, right?"

"I guess so," I said, jokingly.

"No really, look! See that?" he said, pointing at my MagLite, Sleek*.


"Yeah," I said.

"Well, I use that in the morning instead of the light so I won't wake you up when it's dark outside!"

"Gosh, that's really nice!"

"Yeah, and yesterday, I went all the way down to the car when I realized that I hadn't reset the alarm for you. And I came all the way back up so you could make it to work."

I really have a nice husband, it's true!

*My brother JW and I used to go camping every summer with my dad. We had bought this humongous MagLite that used about 6 D batteries. It was named Big Ben. Then one year we lost Big Ben, probably at MidOhio. The following summer Dad bought us both our very own normal-sized MagLites that we promptly named. Sadly I forget what JW named his, but mine was named Sleek. And then at my wedding Dad gave it back to me. We also bought an even bigger MagLite that we named (of course) Bigger Ben. Now Jube just thinks it's funny that I have one of those flashlights they use on Cops...

Summers in Mende

Jube and I were talking about French songs the other day. I have to admit that I enjoy quite a bit of French popular music, mostly on the pop-rock continuum. I really like Anais and Emilie Simon (she's from Montpellier, you know!), plus some other groups. One of my first posts was about Francis Cabrel singing Cat Stevens. That was the first day I heard him sing, and I think I forgot about him for two years. Then Jube, talking about popular French personalities with Southern (French) accents, pulled up his song L'Encre de tes yeux. Wow! I'm not sure if I was feeling sad that day or what, but the song really touched me. It brought tears to my eyes (seriously--and also kind of embarrassingly).

Jube told me how funny it seemed that I was just hearing the song for the first time. "It reminds me of summers in Mende spent at my aunt's house. I was young..." he broke off, reminiscing. Then, as Francis sang "quand meme" in the song, he turned to me, excited, saying, "Hear his Southern accent?" It reminded me of how he played me a song when we first started dating, a song whose singer lingered over the word moquette to show that he was really from the South. Today I can hear the difference, but at the time I heard nothing.

Anyway, whether you can hear a southern French accent or not, here is the song:

Coincidence or Destiny?

I bought some nice tasty chocolate today in my favorite flavor: Dark Cherry Almond. In France I could find the Lindt version of this flavor at certain times of the year, but I hadn't seen it at all in the US until I went to our local "Natural Market." It is so expensive that I buy it very rarely, but I went for it today. On the outside of the wrapper, it said, "Love Poetry Inside!!" I thought it was kind of weird, but also kind of neat.

When I got home, I unwrapped the chocolate and took a look at the love poetry. I was very surprised to find that the poem was Shelley's "Love's Philosophy"--the same poem that my cousin read during Jube's and my wedding! It's been about 10 months since we were married and the wedding is not often in my thoughts. What a nice reminder to receive (and even better, it came with chocolate).

Of course my memory was tainted when Jube said, "That's what she read? Who picked that?" Which, of course, prompted me to vigorously defend myself by pointing out that he had had final veto power over all of the points of the wedding, and then he had to defend himself by saying, "No, no, I'm not saying I don't like it. I do like it! I just don't remember it..." which then... but you don't care, do you? Just enjoy today's chocolatey love poetry:

Love's Philosophy, by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle--
Why not I with thine?

See! the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven,
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea--
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

If Only I Knew...

Why is it that on vacation, when I have plenty of free time, I don't get anything done? And when I have a deadline or a paper due, I will do anything to get out of it? That's why I'm blogging tonight: I have a couple of papers I need to finish by Wednesday (yeah, thanks, I love having things due on the 4th of July!), but I need a break.

I don't really have anything to write, so here's a little Jube mixup from last night:

We were checking out the top 100 movies on Rotten Tomatoes. Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb was rated around 50.

Gem: Oh, Dr. Strangelove! I love that movie! It's sooo funny!

Jube: Dr. Strangelove, huh... Is that with Eddie Murphy?

Gem [howling with laughter]: No. You're thinking of Dr. Dolittle.

Jube: Oh yeah. Hey, don't put that on your blog, okay?

Sleep In.

This morning Jube and I had a breakfast of supermarket croissants. Around one o’clock, he started thinking about making lunch and went to the kitchen to consider our options. He called out to me, “What should we eat for lunch?”

“Dunno,” I called back.

“Dunno!” he said. “You like those two syllables, don’t you? You should write a thank-you letter to whoever invented those two syllables. ‘Dun-no.’ And those two syllables mean so much more than just ‘I don’t know!’ They mean ‘I don’t want to cook.’ They mean ‘I know we have to go shopping, but I don’t want to think about it.’ And they also mean ‘I wash my hands of the subject and you have to do everything.’”

I smiled at him from my place at the computer.

He rolled his eyes and said, “You’re a pest!”

“Fine,” I said, “What do you want to eat?”

“Dunno,” he said.

Except it was in French, and went more like this:

Jube calls out to me from the kitchen, « Qu’est-ce qu’on va manger à midi? »

« Chais pas. »

« Eh ben ! Tu aimes ces deux mots ! Tu devrais écrire une lettre de remerciement à celui qui a inventé ces deux mots. « Chais pas. » Et en plus tu peux dire plein de choses avec ces deux mots. Ça veut dire « je ne sais pas. » Ça veut dire aussi « j’ai pas envie de faire de la cuisine. » Et aussi « je sais qu’il faut faire les courses, mais je ne veux pas y penser. » Et finalement ça veut dire « je m'en lave les mains et c’est toi qui vas tout faire. »

I smile.

He shakes his head, looking at me at the computer. « Tu es une peste. »

I ask, « Alors qu’est-ce que tu veux manger ? »

He looks at me and clearly enunciates, « Chais pas. »