If you have read the last handful of posts, you'll know that once I return home from France, I plan on making some adjustments to the way I do things. For one thing, aI'm about to move again. From your perspective, this may appear huge. From mine? Well, I've lived with changing my home address all my life. Usually there was a potential benefit and not a small risk to a move (when I insisted I wanted to live in the city of Warsaw as a 3 year old rather than remaining in the countryside, when I moved to the US, temporarily, at age 7, when I moved back to Warsaw at age 13, when I impulsively accepted an au pair job in New York at 19, when I moved to Chicago for grad school at 21, when I moved in with my soon to be husband after just three dates, when he and I moved to Madison two years later, when we moved to Milwaukee as I chased a higher paying job, when we moved back to Madison when I realized that it was cutting too much into my time with the kids, when I moved out of our suburban home to live on my own in a smaller space after nearly 30 years of marriage, when I moved in with Ed, when I moved out of the farmhouse. Ed sits on major decisions for a long time and sometimes he just can't move ahead with them at all. Talk about consequences! I've been warned all my life against making major changes quickly, because of possible negative unanticipated consequences, and here I am, watching Ed remain immobilized, and let me tell you, there will be terrific negative consequences if he doesn't in the end make a decision.
In other words, life is full of unanticipated consequences. Most people fear the ones that come from acting quickly. I am much more afraid of the ones that come when you do not act fast enough. (That's true in terms of moving, but also with respect to health issues, kid care, you name it. "Wait and see" doesn't hold much water for me.)
I hadn't discussed my February plans with anyone really. I told my daughters and Ed about them and gave them a chance to react, but that was it. Why not toss these ideas around with my friends? Because I know what it looks like, and I know what they'll say. Protecting me from my own blunders. It's what friends do of course. And yet, no one knows my everyday as well as I do. My emotions, my movements, my reactions -- they're in my head. When I finally posted my impending move and dog plans, I got quite the feedback from some of my friends. Alarms sounded. And I listened to their concerns and I thanked them for thinking of me and I went ahead with my plans anyway.
I'm not a person who only wants affirmation. That one is sitting in the White House right now. He does things with consequences to everyone on this planet based on his gut feeling. Big gut, little feeling. My world, by comparison, is a grain of sand lying at the bottom of a vast ocean. Whether I move and/or get another dog will impact me and the dog. That's it. Possibly also Ed who would have to listen to me sort out the issues that may arise. Maybe a few others who'll want to know. And if I ask for help, Ed'll be the one I'll turn to, only because he is less busy with daily life. My daughters and friends are all on a treadmill. I live in a small world these days.
I also know Henry with far greater detail than what I would include on Ocean. I have studied and watched this dog obsessively for the past three months. I know his every reaction, the drift of his eyes. I am not distracted by anything or anyone. When he is with me, my eyes are on him. And when he is not, my eyes are still on him: for instance, I see on the webcam that he really wants to go outside. He can't because of the weather right now. He's moping. At night, he'd rather be with me. I'm told he took apart his bed out of frustration. They moved him to a smaller room, which, I think will be better. He wont be isolated. He'll be near other dogs.
Nothing is predictable, but you really should act with the best information available to you at the moment that a decision must be made. I've done that. I'm ready to roll with it. I have the stamina, and the optimism this kind of step requires. And yes, I am perfectly comfortable with living with change. All my life I've accepted it as a very workable alternative to living with a fraught and tense status quo.
Good morning Paris! I am ready for a stay here that feels good and requires not much of me. First thing this morning? Well, I accomplish the change in my return that eluded me last night. I'm skipping a trip to the Champagne countryside and am returning a couple of days earlier than originally planned. I could have gone to Champagne just for an overnight, but right now, I like the idea of just staying in Paris. For five nights instead of four. My room at the hotel is perfect for this period of transition. Paris, le Baume, they're all perfect for upping my levels of dopamine, serotonin and endorphins -- aka the happy hormones.
I go down to breakfast. At my favorite table. Yes, I consider this breakfast the bees knees. I added eggs again in case lunch proves to be of the light and unhealthy kind again.
Going up in the elevator, I notice that my face scar may be mistaken for a laugh line! Clever surgeon!
Confirmed in the bathroom mirror.
And then I sit back and make a list of all that I must consider. For Paris, for the days after my return, for Henry, for the move, for the new dog, for the grandkids. That last one is a tiny bit funny. I had asked the big two what they would like from Paris. (I dont need to ask the Chicago girls nor the youngest lad in Madison because the Chicago girls will like most anything (for a while anyway) and the youngest lad will likely ignore everything, so I'll take my chances with those three. But Snowdrop and Sparrow definitely had ideas. Sparrow tells me he really would like a small Eiffel Tower. For your room or for the Edge? -- I ask. For the Edge. But Sparrow, we have two there already. I know. It's the only toy I want. In addition, I would like some clothes and maybe something sweet. This is 100% Sparrow talking. And Snowdrop? Caramels. She wants their salted caramels. Skip the clothes, she likes her American oversized sweatshirts. And toys! -- she says. I explain the futility of that idea, given that she rarely plays with any of them, with the exception of the Danish mice and the American Girls dolls. Okay, then books! I'd gotten her some previously unknown to me British graphic novels from the big Parisian bookshop Smith's.. Maybe I'll go back there and hunt around some more.
And the list for things to do once I get home? Oh so long! Here's an important item: I want to get rid of more stuff from the Edge apartment. Each move should make me smaller, don't you think? If I haven't used an item at the Edge, shouldn't I toss it? I'll look through everything once again when I get back.
I go out for a walk.
Where to? Well, it's about to rain, so nothing too ambitious. I do the loop that I so often walk when here. To the Bon Marche department store and food halls, then back to the hotel via the Jardin Luxembourg.
I know by now every shop along the way. Every possible display that I may want to admire. Not to purchase anything, but to take in what's happening in Paris right now.
I do have my camera and Occasionally I do use it, but it's very haphazard. In iffy weather, picture taking takes the back seat. Though I have noticed that with this trip, I am paying attention to people with dogs and to older people (who at this time of the day are, in fact, the ones with dogs). Older people in France and in Italy have fascinated me for a while, but these days of course, I do it because they are me, or I am them, except dressed with much less flair and panache.
Eventually I pick up s few items of clothing for four kids. The fifth one gets a toy because thus far, I found nothing special for him. The winter sales are on, but as in the US, stores are pretty low on stock right now. And toys are on my list in any case.Three birthdays coming up in Spring. I address most of them.
I switch my attention to the Food Halls. This is where I pick up foods for me (chocolate and raspberries from Portugal) and for people who I think deserve a little reward back home. Calissons, becasue they are the sweet from Provence and I was in Provence and I didn't buy them there thinking -- I can always get them in Paris (they're dainty little cakes made with melon, orange peel and crushed almonds). Other chocolate. Other sweets. Grownups get edibles. It's a safe bet and it doesn't contribute to the planet's trash buildup.
I spent enough on the kids that I find it to be worth my time to do the "tax free" forms (food doesn't count for this). While up there in the administrative heart of the department store, I pop into an office that deals with customer issues. I have a shopping points card for the store (you get discounts) but the clerks can never find it in the system when I forget to bring the physical card with me (as I did today). I want to know if we can fix this. The absolutely lovely woman located the mistake, with persistence of course -- it took a while -- and she issued me a new card and explained that I alternate too much between French and English. Stick with one! (I must have said that you spell my name C - A -M - I - C, using the French pronunciation of the letters, leading them to write it down as C -- A -- M -- E -- C. While all this was taking place, we talked. Somehow, I managed to bring Henry into the conversation. She'd asked if I live in France and I said no, indeed, I'm returning home on Thursday in part because of my dog, because you see.... and I gave some details of his special needs. She was blunt - so why dont you bring him with you next time?
I'll just leave you with that sincere query! Can you imagine Henry in Paris? In a hotel? A restaurant? Doesn't it just make you chuckle?
I go down the escalator, again, noting the dogs, small ones, calm ones. It seems to me that they all tune out Paris to survive Paris.
(A pause to pick up lunch: I want to try a slice of this apple rhubarb cake at a local bakery...)
(I also see a bread stick labeled "sportif." I buy that as well. Let it not be said that I eat only rich and sweet foods in this country!
A walk back through the wet Jardin Luxembourg. Beautiful as always.
I came back to a room full of flowers! Oh the staff at the Baume! They treat me as if truly I were in their circle of good friends.
Toward evening, I get a message from the Camp telling me that Henry is adjusting very well now. What a relief! And I also get a (planned) call from Sarah.
Sarah is the coordinator for pet adoptions from Houston Texas. She and I corresponded about a certain dog that caught my eye. (Barrelled me over is more accurate.) We talk about her. For a long while. She's interviewing me, I'm getting more info. This is followed by a FaceTime with Trina the foster parent and, too, the dog herself! Oh technology! I can meet my new dog from my seat at the Baume! The Texas organization I'm working with is amazingly careful with the placement of their pooches. Given that this is my second adoption, I see what's involved and I understand what's at stake.
Dinner? At Marcello'. I believe I got the recommendation of this from my hotel's newsletter. I know I read somewhere that they may very well have the best pasta in all of Paris. I order one with clams and yes, it is exquisitely delicious.
(they didn't have NA beer, but they had a moctail that mimicked a Spritz)
The walk home is chilly and damp. And yet, I pass a couple sitting outside, deeply engrossed in a conversation (actually I can't tell their gender but they look so calm, so engaged in life...).
I wish this for all of us -- that level of engagement, of concern...
with so much love...
