The Five of Five Hundred list is symbolic of the FIVE HUNDRED MILLION things on my mind that I’d like to do/say/write/organize/eat/see/dream on during one massive long sleep and grasse matinee. Since I’m not sure my brain, calendar, and toddler will ever unlock arms and allow me the time to write a full blog post again, I’m putting all my money on the Five of Five Hundred to bring me the cathartic outlet I need.
5/500 -List 1
1 – RAISING A BILINGUAL CHILD. A rare mix of awe and WOW and pride and cute overload – and a sense of nostalgia and imminent disconnection that I’ve never had before in my life. Nina stands with me on this vast European continent as my only flesh and blood life line to everything that has laid the foundation for what I am, what I know. So when I notice how quickly her French has advanced this past month (noting the irony that I’ve primarily spoken to her in French since she was born) – when she asks me to stop in English and restart a storybook in French – when she laughs and uses her “imagimation” to start/continue/end conversations with Marie in Montreal or Marine in Paris on her toy telephone that begin with “Bonjour, ca va?” and end in “A bientot” – I suddenly feel like I’m on a rocket ship that is blasting off from Earth. And that we will land somewhere, and I’ll look back to see that rocket leaving us with the last American flag of my life waving a slow goodbye as all of the American culture that made me who I am flees forever: Dr.Seuss, 90s country music, mom’s pot roast, crunchy peanut butter, and mixing all food groups together inside of a flour tortilla.
I’m so fucking proud of her. But it, this bilingualism, this dual nationality, this crockpot of culture, has suddenly stopped me in my tracks and made me wonder how will I preserve and hang on to what ultimately will always feel like home. More to come.
2 – MISSING MY SHOWER HEAD. If I could spend all of my money on one thing right now, it would be a tiny shower room. Installed on wheels. A tiny shower house of sorts that I could hitch to the car (that we don’t yet have – we’ve been renting a Fiat 500 – this saga of buying a car in France is a whole other story that I won’t get into right now) and set up in the parking lot of Le Clerc or along the salt marshes in Guerande so that I could stand and stretch and take the longest, hottest shower I wanted to without anyone bothering me. Without any tiny bain or mobile shower spray device or question as to what a shower should really be. And to top it off, I wouldn’t mind some steamy, super X-rated action in that shower room because no children or parents or in laws or dogs would be allowed.
3 – MAMA. I miss my mom. Five hundred times a day. She’s deep in the heart of Texas in her reading chair. Sunlight shining in on her. Reaffirming each afternoon that she truly is an angel.
4 – BY THE SEA. This is my calling. Sun. Sand. Shells. Saltwater. I can even take the momentary chill that the Atlantic brings because in its waters I know I am safe from sharks. I hope that Nina spends her summers like this. That one day she’ll suck down her own bowl of moules and huitres. That she will look back on this time and, upon seeing a photo of Piriac sur Mer or Finistere, she’ll smile and say “mon enfance”.
5 – AM I REALLY QUESTIONING THE WINE IN MY LIFE? HAHA. YES. I spent the seven months prior to France in Texas, and during that time, I worked out every day (short high intensity workouts that brought quick results) and ate really clean (I pretty much lived off avocados). So it was more than obvious once I arrived to France and sat in front of a baguette and butter each morning and three different types of wine each night that my abs were going to turn into dough if I wasn’t careful. This meant (gasp) saying no to bread and turning down my second and third glass of wine. I slowly made the switch to red, backing down from white and leaving rose for the sardine festivals. Romain pulled me out of my office to run a 6K during lunch yesterday, so if I can keep it up, I can keep off the dough – and continue to indulge in that nightly glass of wine I deserve.
THE CACHETTE 