Out With a Bang

I don't think I ever gave an update on the Free People dress I splurged on... while it did make it in time for the Christmas party,the size 2 I'd been dieting for all month slipped right off of me and pooled in pile of too-expensive-shame at my feet. ..So I went in an old skirt and a tube top and all were too drunk with merriment to notice anyway.

The good news: Due to my efforts at the prefecture, I've extended by visa by three weeks: just long enough to be here for the annual gala for the masters students in wine studies. (I told the prefecture I needed to stay for language exams and embassy meetings, but really I was just trying to push it for this event.) TMI will be in a tux, the ladies in gowns, and my free people dress has one more chance to pack a punch.

So yesterday I found a seamstress who's at present sizing it down while I'm trying to dress it up. The dress is more cocktail than formal, so I'm looking for advice.

What do you think? Black shoes, or white shoes? The rhintestone bib? Messy up-do? I know this is all very vain but I'll be damned if I don't leave France with a bang.

Positive Plumbing

The toilet clogged in my tiny apartment, (I admit it, it was probably my fault: I've always thought that a toilet made a suitable substitute for a garbage disposal and had just a few days before tried to flush a bowl of spinach stems and kiwi skins,) and TMI and I faced an evening of plunging up all sorts of private unpleasant things that you normally don't want to share with your significant other. Tossing eloquence, I'll just say it: we were battling a seemingly endless onslaught of old turds. Just when we'd figure out how to deal with one, (secretly throwing it out the window, onto a neighbor's roof, running down stairs to put it in the trash, etc.) another would pop up to terrorize us.

I have to say despite the obvious unpleasantness it felt.. intimate. We weren't so embarrassed as we were disgusted and desperate; we were facing a domestic dilemma like two people truly in love. And for that I thought it was a valuable experience.

..Except that it's still broken and every time I have to go to the bathroom I have to either pee in the sink or run into town to find a place. And let me tell you, public toilets in France: basically non existent.

In other news positive plans are falling into place delicately and tentatively, like new snow: it's soft and clean and looks pretty good, but there's no telling if it will stick or not. I've started to apply for several online MA programs in Art History and/or Art Administration, which would allow my nomadic lifestyle while also continuing my studies. I was supposed to meet with a man today about a six month work contract, so that I could come back to France in March or April after my current visa expires in February, (but he didn't show up, so that's a little worrying) and TMI is working on getting an internship in a vineyard on the West Coast of the USA. All these efforts combined have made me feel like maybe he and I will find a way to stick together, but, like I said, the guy didn't show up today and there's no telling if the snow will stay or not. But I want to choose optimism. And I want to be with the man I love, so I'm devoted to the idea to make the choices that allow that.

Today I read: "Life is a choice. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness."

And despite my raging PMS this week, my usual worries, and my plumbing problems, I'm going to give it my best shot.

Weight Gain Complaining

The above image illustrates what 9 months in the land of butter and cheese can do to a person. The preceding photos are from two different modeling shoots from my hay day mere months before coming to France. The last is a horrible hit of reality which assaulted me from a pack of paparazzi new years eve photos. Dear God!

As I've mentioned, before France I was a valiant vegetarian and veggie-holic. Here my rabbit life style was seemingly impossible to support and I adapted meat, and, while often being fed by friends and family of the significant other, have also had to embrace a constant supply of "veut-tu un dessert?" "la fromage?" "Ce soir on va manger la raclette!" And other thin-killing assaults.

Looks like a slippery slope to me. Since I'm planning on living in France long term I'm gonna have to figure out how to stay healthy in the land of temptation and all that oozes and melts... and fast!

Banner Making

The latest banner from the phoque-supporting etsy store. Remember to think of me and expensive Euro living next time you need a new banner or button! $15 a pop :)

Train Pain

So on the way home from Sauzet and about to step onto the 4 hour train to Lyon, I was suddenly aggressed by a familiar terror. Burning tearing pain in that oh-so-sensitive of places. This is my fifth time around at this, let me remind you, so I knew immediately what was happening and burst into tears. Yet another UTI, despite all of my precautions. And, not arriving in Dijon until 7:30 that night, there would be no doctor until the next day and a whole night of searing pain to look forward to.

I told TMI we absolutely HAD to miss our connection in Lyon and go into the city and find me a doctor and anti-bitotics ASAP, and proceeded to convince him by crying into his lap the whole train ride. Dear God those things are painful, and each one over the past 5 months has been successively worse than the last.

TMI called home and had his dad find us a doctor's office near the train station and make us an appointment. Luck shone a bit here because we were able to get in early. I blurted in teary emotional French my tramendous streak of bad luck involving my vagina since coming to France. He asked what was different in my life since the infections started. The obvious answer was TMI, but since he was sitting right there in the office and being such a saint since the pain started I wasnt ready to to point fingers. So I beat around the bush a bit mentioning oral contraceptives, etc. The doctor eventually picked up on it and told me privately that intercourse, should I wish to keep it up under such circumstances, needed to happen after showers and be finsihed every time promptly by peeing and a glass of water. How romantic!

Anyway, the trauma ended with antibiotics and a blessedly comfortable train back to Dijon. TMI was so kind and loving and, I have to face it, drop dead gorgeous all afternoon and throughout my misery I couldn't help but feel all new heights of love for him. In fact my love seems to be steadily growing along with the adversity against our relationship. Still no visa solution.. and time running out!