All gone

My Guests are gone, the French are gone and I am leaving too!

It seems as though everyone is fleeing Paris for the week. Seriously this weekend in Paris was like ghost city. All the streets were packed with tourists but the streets were empty of cars- instead they were all filled on the highways headed out of town.
Early Saturday morning my firsts guests left town. After dropping them off, I ran some errands, cleaned my apartment- and finally painted my Paris memory board. I have been very excited about this project. I bought the plain board a while ago but have been needing to paint it. I am proud to announce it’s finally completed. I am going to hang this on one of my walls and then use it as a memory board for the time I am here in Paris.



The French all take a week off for the equivalent of Spring break. Essentially when the kids get a week off of school, the parents take off too. I love the fact that the French get 5 weeks of vacation a year. That is incredible!

Today I am leaving Paris to go to Nouan-le-Fuzelier- I have no idea where Nouan-le-Fuzelier actually is. I do know that it is in France and about two hours away but that’s all I know. My whole office is going for a staff retreat- most people working here travel up to 18 days a month so this is meant to be a time of connecting and alligning vision. I will actually be working the retreat. There are a few things I have helped with but the task assigned to me was planning events in the evenings- basically planning fun nights- I can totally handle that.
Marshmallow dodgeball anyone ?



This morning in attempts to get everything together- the games, pack my bags, materials, and send out packages needed to get to the U.S. I was an utter mess. Literally- For breakfast I had a opening face toasted PB&J sandwich. One of my favorites but I rarely have one- so I stopped in the morning to enjoy this treat before the retreat. Well unbeknownst to me- that PB&J sand seemed to make a larger appearance on my Tee-shirt than actually in my mouth. While driving around looking for a post office – I noticed there was something sticky on my necklace- like any normal person I tasted the sticky substance to figure out what it was. I quickly recognized the taste as that similar to my breakfast. I then looked down at my shirt to see PB&J all smeared across my tee-shirt.

What a complete DISASTER! I seriously looked like a two year old who just ate their first sandwich! Thankfully I was wearing a longsleeved shirt underneath my tee-shirt to help me recover from this utter stupidity. I am still not quite sure how this happened... but I do know that I am so ready to take a nap.

Fresh Flowers

When I left Paris headed for California, you could tell the Spring was on the horizon. A few daffodils had popped up in yards around town and trees were beginning to show buds of flowers and leaves to come.






Upon arriving back to Paris from California flowers had come into full bloom all around. All of the roundabouts have been adorned with tulips and other assortments of flowers. In what was once an empty area of soil have now found home to brightly colored flowers bringing life to each community.





There is something refreshing about flowers, something that makes you happy inside. A fresh bouquet of flowers on a table brings light, life, and love into a room. Flowers are often the center point of helping set the tone to a wedding of the brides big day- and flowers are given as a source comfort when someone is having a bad day and words can do no justice.





I am happy flowers have made their way to flower beds across Paris. It is a sign of many good things to come. The days are getting longer. They days are getting warmer.
The flowers are opening up beautiful and bright- and I have hopes that it is what the days ahead will do too.

A ballet!

A Ballet! A ballet in Paris! Man on man is that a call for excitement! There are two opera houses in Paris. The first is older, called the Palais Garnier, and the newer more modern location, is the Opera Bastille. You can get tickets to a ballet or opera from prices ranging from 5 Euros to 200 Euros depending on the seat of your show. When my friends coming into town mentioned that they would like to go to the ballet, I couldn’t have been more thrilled.

(Palais Garnier)

(Opera Bastille)


I have always loved dance. Ballet was my first exposure to dancing. At four years old, my mom placed me in ballet classes, but I was not the most graceful dancer. In fact, I remember one time in class, we told to dance on our own, while pretending we were in a bubble. This was an exercise created to reinforce creativity and grace, independent of instruction. I danced freely and with great passion enjoying every moment while using music and motion to express my childhood joy. However, while dancing around I was not quite so fragile with my bubble. While dancing with great fervor, I started to do a spin followed by a jump which tumbled into a summersault. After my fumble on the floor, the teacher remarked, “Oh well! I think Katie just burst her bubble.” I was not one for poise and composure- but for action and large motions. Though at a young age it was apparent I would never be the prima ballerina- I always loved the art of dance in all forms.

(Me with my ticket)

Sitting in the seats last night, waiting for the show to begin, my stomach swirled with joy and anticipation. I loved listening to the hum of the audience, talking among themselves, with the expectancy of the show to start. In the back ground, you could hear the oboe and piccolo tune their instruments. The seats began to fill in and the clock ticked closer to the curtain call time of 7:30. As the lights dimmed over the entire room my eyes began to get teary in the excitement of what I was about to witness. Everything was completely dark- everything was completely silent- everything was completely perfect.

(Waiting for the show to begin.)

The first trumpets sounded and lights exposed the dancers set on stage. The stage was filled with about 15 men. Half were standing tall, while the rest had their backs towards the audience standing in a half horizontal split stance, with their hands on the ground. The first obvious observation was their strength. As the orchestra continued to play- and then men continued to dance- I began to wonder… where are the women?

When I think of Ballet- I think: women, tutu’s, pointed shoes, and a guy to lift her. In regards to most ballets, I always thought the general ratio would be 20 female dancers and one male. This explains why last night, I was quite surprised when 40 minutes into this show- there had yet to be a single tutu, or pointed shoe to step on stage. I wondered, how this could be? Is that legal in ballet? At one point, there were 30 men all on stage dancing- without a sign of anything feminine to come. I did not know there were 30 male ballet dancers in the world! Let alone have them all on one stage, for one show.

Shortly after giving up hope of ever having a swan emerge from the sea of ballet men- a light blue leotard, pointed shoes and a tutu appeared. The ballerina’s have now entered the ballet. The men had strength and power, but the women had grace and beauty. The show played out beautifully. I never cease being amazed by the girls standing on point. I love when the women are carried with ease across the stage. I am in awe when a girl is passed back and forth with poise and ease between two male dancers, while doing arabesques and clinging to each in passion and emotion that envelope the audience.

(Gustave Mahler's Thrid Symphony)

The name of the ballet I saw was “Gustav Maller’s Third Symphony.” It was an excellent performance – portraying the six stages of experiences of life. While I am here in Paris I hope to return to the ballet. I loved everything about last night. I loved getting dressed up, I loved being in the theatre, I loved the entire show. But my favorite part was being a witness to so many hopes and dreams coming true. While watching the ballet I kept thinking about how the people on stage were living their dream. At one point and time they were just like me- a child in a beginner’s ballet class. The difference being, they continued to take classes, sacrificed social activities, and gave an endless amount of time, devotion, and money in pursuit of one thing- their dream of dancing on stage. was captivated by the beauty of the movement and motion , I was wrapped up in the story unfolding , and I was encouraged by the dedication and devotion displayed by the dancers on stage. I loved the Ballet.

(The Dream Makers)

Thighmaster

When I think of the late 80's and working out, images of women wearing bright tights, leotards, and scrunched up crazy leg warms flash in my mind. Though women today have their workout fads of Yoga and Pilates- the 80's must have was the “Thighmaster” with guru Suzanne Somers. The “Thighmaster” promised tighter and leaner, inner and outer, thighs to all those crimped haired, side ponytail, and teased bangs, workout lovers.

Well you 80’s loving workout fans, do I have the latest and greatest option for you. May I present to you the option of the Eiffel Tower. Now this may not be as transportable as your “Thighmaster” but results are guaranteed– this massive structure will have you huffing and puffing as you climb your way to the second floor while giving you the toned form you always dreamed to have.

When visiting the Eiffel tower you have two options: for 13.00 Euros you can take an elevator all the way to the top of the 276 meters (1,063 ft) OR for 4.50 Euro you can climb the 328 stairs to the first level and continue up and additional 340 stairs to the second level. Bring the total of the climb to a whopping total of: 668 stairs and a climb of 115 meters (377 ft) which is equivalent to a 32 floor building. Man that’s a lot of stairs. Once you reach the second level, you then will need to purchase an additional 8.00 Euro ticket to take you to the top if that is your final destination.

Now the economical penny pincher may think that climbing the stairs of the Eiffel tower will be a money saving experience as compared to the $29.99 expense of the “Thighmaster” but let me tell you – you might want to re-think that decision. There were many people with hopes and desires to make it to the top who looked mighty wearing climbing those stairs. There is also a greater number I spotted in line to buy tickets climb the magnificent feat, that I never saw again. My suggestion before taking on this mission would be to do a few squats, lunges, or pull out that old “Thighmaster” VHS before deciding this is the path you will take to the glorious upper views of the Eiffel Tower.

The fastest person to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower took 8 minutes and 51 seconds. I can tell you it took us 11 minutes to climb down the stairs from the second floor. I have no idea how long it took to hike up the 668 steps to the second floor.

So ladies (and gents) if you have the heartfelt desire to climb to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower – hesitate no more. It is possible. Though, I recommend pulling out your 80’s workout attire, and thank Mrs. Suzanne for her passion to tone and trim those thighs.

EIFFEL TOWER AFTER CLIMING TO THE SECOND FLOOR AND BACK DOWN

T&M save the day... Again!

BEFORE

It's amazing how much a fresh clean shower can make everything better! After my devastation yesterday of not having hot water with guests visiting, I found myself in a rut. I am very fortunate though that cleanliness is something everyone understands and appreciates. Through out the day, I was presented with simpathetic head tilts, followed by offerings to use their shower from everyone in my office.

Rather than taking a bone chilling, teeth clattering, body shivering cold shower, I decided I would accept one of the invitations to use the shower at someone else’s apartment. Last night my two guests and I trekked our shower kits, towles, and PJ's over to Tiffany and Marla’s apartment. Each one of us was able to be refreshed with the stress relieving down pour of warm water, gauged to our individual preference. Steamed mirrors never looked so good. It was glorious.

After our revitalizing showers, we were headed back to my apartment, when Tiffany and Marla offered to follow us, and attempt to fix my water heater. While Celeste, Vanessa, and I had a late night cheese, bread, and wine dinner party; Tiffany and Marla broke out the tools and started working on fixing my water issues. While I was sampling the Tom cheese the most glorious words poured out of Tiffany’s mouth- “I think we fixed it!” I couldn't’t decide what was better, the cheese or the thought that they actually solved my problem.

DURING

This morning while washing my hands the hot water kicked in! I am excited. Tiffany and Marla once again saved the day! I told them, "that if it were not for them I would be a poor girl living in an apartment with no kitchen cabinets hung, no couch to sit on, and cold water to boot." I am utterly helpless without their assistance. As an offer of thanks for them once again saving the day, I had their favorite box of cookies saved at my apartment "just in case" a situation would arise. I was able to send them off with their favorite box of goodies, as a small portion of gratitude.

The pathetic part was the doom and gloom I felt yesterday over the hot water issue. I am so foolish. I should know that the Lord always provides for me and takes care of me. I mean seriously, I made it through the chaos of the VISA dilemmas last week, why would I ever give up hope when my hot water goes out. Lesson learned. Either way… I cannot wait to immerse myself in my own hot shower tonight! It’s going to be great!

AFTER

My Visa Story

In an ode to my MIA blogging status the last two weeks, I have decided to participate in “Not Me Monday’s” in an attempt to get everyone caught up in the web of a mess I found myself in, and how I managed to get out without any hiccups at all. Now I am going to cheat a little bit (note- I firmly believe in following rules) but technically not me Monday’s should only be within the Monday to Monday time frame. But I am going to rewind and actually start with the Wednesday before last Monday and work my way to this fine Monday morning. The setting would be Wednesday afternoon when I find out I must go back to Los Angeles and pick up my visa and this is how the story continues.

After finding out that I would need to go home for my Visa, I did not tell my boss that if I were to go home I wouldn’t return to Pairs- solely because I knew how much I would enjoy my time there with family and friends. I would never make a strong emotional comment in a stressful situation. However, throughout the rest of the week I found myself less homesick and more excited with the prospect of returning to France. On Wednesday evening I absolutely 100% needed to call the Los Angeles consulate between 10:00 p.m and 12:00 a.m. Paris time to get the exact details of what was necessary. I most definitely did not go to the Louvre and check out art rather than wait and ensure a solution my VISA dilemma. My logic in this though I promise was not, "well if I get deported I should first see some good art." I would never choose exploration of the Mona Lisa and Macedonian time period over waiting by the phone for the Los Angeles Consulate to take phone calls.




While at the Louvre I did not wear my boots that are lined with leather on the inside without socks or nylons. I know better than that. I then would never hobble through all the exhibitions just hoping they have a place where I can sit and pretend I am appreciating the art when really I am praying for my feet to stop swelling. After two hours of pain I would never accept the offer of a friend to wear her stockings in attempts to alleviate the pain. I am strong and sanitary, and I would never put on someone else’s footwear in a place as distinguished as the louvre.

After making it back in time to talk to the consulate and be told that there is no other possibility than for me to come to Los Angeles to pickup my VISA in person, with my passport in the next two days; I would never ever make a hair appointment before booking my plane ticket. I would have my priorities straight and make sure I could get a flight and appointment at the consulate before I ever even thought of the possibility of getting my hair done while I am in town. I also would never buy a plane ticket to fly out less than 24 hours later. I would have much more time and preparation before boarding a plane for a 14 hour flight. And… if I did ever have short notice I promise I would never first go shopping for wine, chocolate, and cheese to bring back before packing traveling necessities. Nor would I ever pack those items first and then base my wardrobe on what room was left in my suitcase.

After arriving on a long flight and landing at midnight of Friday night, I would be sure to get plenty of rest. I wouldn’t dare get up early in the morning go running, have lunch with a friend, go to a wedding, then to a birthday party- and stay up to 4:30 a.m. just to hang out with friends a bit longer. I would recognize when I am tired and go to bed. I Always make sure to get my beauty sleep. I would never then sleep in till 1:30 on a Sunday and wake up ten minutes before my family afternoon lunch started. I am always up early, showered, and in church by 10:00- I could never imagine sleeping in so late or not being ready on time for something organized for me.








When I headed to Santa Monica from Orange County to pick up my VISA I would never encourage my two best friends to ditch work and hang out with me for the day. In these tough economic times we need people to be at work, not driving with me to get a VISA. But we did carpool so technically we saved gas and could use the carpool lane! After a hour and half drive to the consulate I would never step out of my car and realize I FORGOT MY PASSPORT! No! No! No! No! NO! I wouldn’t ever forget such an essential document. I could never forget something that I flew 14 hours to come and pick up. I wouldn’t dare or dream to leave it at my friends apartment. I also wouldn’t drive back down to their apartment to pick it up and return only 10 minutes before the consulate visiting hours closed for the day. After returning to the consulate from a 16 hour flight and what was now a 4 hour drive I would never be shocked that it only took 3 minutes for them to place the sticker in my Passport and send me on my merry little way. So much for saving gas...





When turning around for my second half of my trip and restocking my bags with American foods (peanut butter, chocolate chips, popcorn, and goldfish), Target five dollar movies, and clothes I previously left behind- I would make sure I weighed my bags before I left. When questioned by my dad on if they were too heavy I would never reply, "If I can lift them, then I am sure they are under the weight requirements." I would then never have to redistribute the items in my bags while checking in curb side.

After checking in and hanging out with my mom before my departure- while going through security- I would not discover I lost my passport. I would not then drop down in the middle of the line, begin shaking and hyperventilating while throwing all items out of my bags in attempts to find something I had in my hand 10 minutes earlier. I wouldn’t call my mom on the verge of tears and beg her to come back to help me find my passport, and I wouldn’t rush to the guy who checked me in to see if he held my passport hostage. While I have everyone helping me search for my passport, I wouldn’t ever find my passport in the front pocket of my jeans. No! No! No! No! NO! I would have put it back in my travel wallet with my boarding pass- like I do every other time. That is most definitely Not Me and not something I would do. I never forget or misplace anything.

Before returning to Paris I definitely didn’t stop in Pennsylvania solely for the purpose to get a driver’s license, in a way to negate having to take a French driving course. I would rather comply with the French standard of not accepting a California drivers license and pay over a 1,000.00 Euros to take a driving course in Paris. I mean that sounds completely logical and reasonable. I definitely do not have a driver’s license for a state I have never, nor plan on, ever driving in. That just wouldn’t make any sense. Everything I do makes sense and thus this is with out a doubt something I would not do.



On my flight from California to Pennsylvania I threw on one of the DVD’s I was carrying in my laptop bag. It happened to be Titanic. I am positive that once we hit turbulence I did not immediately turn off the movie in superstition and hopes to have a less catastrophic ending on the plane than they did on Titanic. So they had an iceberg... but I had white big fluffy clouds- it’s all relative. But, when you are bouncing 30,000 feet in the air, you don’t need to be reminded on the reality of accidents. I am a much more rational person than this and would never be so afraid of a few moments of turbulence in the air and easily could have flown and finished my movie with ease.



When arriving back in Paris I did not land one hour before my friend Celeste and her cousin arrived for their planned visit to Paris. I also did not that same day as landing at 12:00 in the afternoon go to the Champs Elysees, Arch de Triumph, and roam around the streets of Paris at night. Again that’s not me! I would make sure to get lots of rest, unpack and put everything away before going out and exploring. I would also be much more prepared for the arrival of my guest. I wouldn’t dare go out of town the week before people come to visit.

This morning after a long two weeks of what I like to consider my mini version of the amazing race, I was not upset at all to find that I have no hot water in my apartment. After learning it was probably a fuse switch and testing that theory- I did not crawl under my hot water heater to see what the problem was. After not being able to solve my problem, being on my hands and knees looking at something I completely don’t understand (really I don’t understand it- 1st water issues 2nd- in french = me lost!) While down on all fours, I did not begin to cry, out of complete exhaustion from all the obsticals and say, “God- I don’t want to grow up any more!”

I am not tired at all. Not me,- I have lots of energy and I am not gulping down coffee and diet cokes. I know too much caffeine is not good for you. I am not missing the sunshine, flip flops, and tank tops at all. It was treacherous going home and seeing all of my friends and family. My nephew is not adorable at all. I was not ecstatic one bit to see Brigitte’s engagement ring. I did not enjoy laughing and dancing with Cynthia. I didn't enjoy surprising my friend at her wedding, or having time with friends. I hated giving people their gifts I have picked up along the way. I am not satisfied one single bit with my fresh new hair color and cut- I never enjoy getting my hair done or the time I get to spend with Kali while she does my hair. I did not take one bit of pleasure of driving with Ashly and Andrea with the windows down singing songs I could understand during our four hour VISA road trip. I do not miss the kindness of my Memi who drove two hours in the rain to pick me up and drop me off at the airport, or all the research she helped me do to get my license. I do not miss the freedom of being able to do things with ease, and the ability to figure them out on my own. I do not miss talking to my mom early in the morning or before she goes to bed. Nope not me- last week being home was complete torture.

And I definitely did not take a total of 16 hours flying, 4 hours of driving, and 3 minutes in person to get a sticker with the word VISA placed into my passport.

Stellan

I realize I have been out of commission the last week and a half, and if you miss my blog- know that I do too! I also miss reading the blogs that I love so much.
Now while the last two weeks I have thought my life was total Chaos due to my Visa issues- I have stumbled upon someone who needs prayer.

While catching up on blogs a few moments ago I came across this blog site called: My Charming Kids by MckMama. In comparison to what this mother has had to face the last two weeks, my visa hiccup is easy, tangible, and now solved. It was a complete mess a week and a half ago, but through prayers of many people who read my blog and e-mail updates I have my Visa and headed back to Paris. I am writing this today so that you will go to her page and see what has been going on in her life and join the network of prayer for her family. This is the link to MckMama's page
Reading her blog, it is really cool to see how people have quickly come together to pray for her son and how she is trusting in God's faithfulness in this time of difficulty.

MckMama's son, Stellan is four months old who has many issues with his heart. It seems that within the last few weeks his health has had some major complications.
A few of the posts I would recommend are: "Stelan in Sengal brings MckMama a smile"- this one if very encouraging. "Winds of change," will give you some information on what is happening with Stellan. And, "All will see How great our God," is a beautiful picture slide show of Stellan, my favorite shot is at 1:52. Throughout many of these posts MckMama is very vulnerable and honest in the trials she is going through and the agony it is in her life. There are moments of despair and brokenness, moments of light and hope, and moments of being still and waiting- but through it all there is honesty and vulnerability through a mother's prayer for her son new life.

Please please please join me in praying for MckMama and her baby boy Stellan! I cannot imagine the stress, heartache, and agony she must be going through. She seems strong going through this whole process and is depending on her faith in the Lord to provide and get her through this time. Let us join her in the fight for her sons life through prayer, intercession, and encouragement.