We're finally settling into our apartment now. We still haven't decorated any and I'm dying to put up pictures and art on our bare walls, but all the furniture has been put together and set up and things are starting to come together.

Click here for the full slideshow and descriptions.

(I'm trying out Flickr to see how it compares to Google Images, so let me know how you like it. Click on the first photo to start browsing, and click on the next image to continue through the set of photos. I added comments and notes to some of the pics, too. Enjoy!)

I've been a hermit. While Gui runs off to work each day, I usually do some form of organizing that we've been putting off, and do laundry (gosh, I've never done so much laundry in my life!), and clean and organize and clean. It seems like the quest to furnish and organize our apartment is never-ending. I feel like there's so much to do.

As much as I'd like to say that the cause of my hibernation is that there's so much to do at our apartment, I know that it isn't. There's a part of me that's becoming a little intimidated. The feeling of being a foreigner is starting to set in for me, and that feeling has been keeping me at home everyday, away from the strange world that I'm now calling home. I'm just now realizing that I'm no longer that young college student, eager to put myself out there and dive into a foreign place and culture without hesitation. I reflect on my summer abroad in Rome and remember how brave and resourceful I was. It never crossed my mind that I should be worried about what people with think of me, of my accent or my appearance. I was so ready to submerge myself into a new culture and become one of them. The same goes for my time in England. Now, I question more, I think more, and I do less.

If I was my therapist, I'd probably tell myself that I've been feeling the need to nest as a way to make my own comfort zone in what I feel is an uncomfortable place. I'd diagnose myself with STDS (no, not that kind of STD, but the "Scared To Do Shiz" kind) and prescribe as a treatment, a day outside of my comfort zone in an effort to expand it.

So, I took that prescription on Monday and shortly after Gui left for work, I walked to the metro stop, boarded line 9 and headed toward the opposite side of town. I've been meaning to sign up for my French class, and I decided that there was no time like the present to get off my arse and do it. It takes an hour to get to the school, but I only have to change lines once, which for me is what matters most (for some reason Guillaume always looks for the shortest distance even if there are a gazillion stops, which in theory maybe saves 5 minutes if you're lucky and get a metro right away on the next line, but in practice, I'd rather save my legs some walking and leave 5 minutes earlier).

The metro is a great place to people watch, and I spent enough time on the metro to remind myself how attractive Parisians really are. Sure, Paris has its fair share of ugly folk, but it doesn't take much effort to find a really good-looking Frenchie around these parts...not that I'm looking or anything!

So, after getting off the metro and searching a few minutes around the neighborhood, I found the school (score! it happens to be 100 meters from Paris Plage) and after a little waiting, I signed up for my summer French class, and I did it all in French! It was really easy to understand the lady at reception, and everything she asked me I actually knew how to respond to in French. I think being in an environment where it's OK to sound like a jackass definitely makes me more confident in my skills. It took about an hour to get all signed up, and after that, I headed back home, across town. I made a much needed pit-stop at the post-office (I'm still a little intimidated about going there to send something other than a letter stateside because then I actually have to talk to a person, not a machine), and came back to my little comfort zone.

I'll have to find a few good reads to keep me occupied on the metro - as much fun as it was looking at the pretty people, I can only check out someone's fab 'do or swanky shoes so many times before I want to stick a heel in my eye. (In the words of my adorable nephew,) mmmmm...BORRRING. I'm taking suggestions for books to order on Amazon or to search for in the few English bookstores around town. I'm hoping to catch up on some classics that I've missed (Catcher in the Rye, War and Peace, Jane Eyre, The Prince) or philosophy (Plato, Camus, Aristotle), but I'd be interested to see what else is getting readers' attention these days.

My classes start June 30th (20-hrs/week, yo!), so for three weeks, my hibernation will cease to exist. I'm hoping to meet some new people (from what I gather, there aren't many Americans/Brits/Aussies enrolled at this school, and it has a high population of students from Eastern Europe, Asia and South America...sweet!) and I seriously can't wait to have the confidence to be out on my own in the city without such a large language barrier. Je suis très content!

I know I promised to blog about our Texas trip, but the only people who read my blog were there anyway, so I think linking to an album will suffice for a summary. It was a blast, and I enjoyed every minute of it - even when my nephew shot me with a water gun while I was feeling like poop and so exhausted I could barely walk. Love you, Nate! :)

But, really, it was the perfect way to introduce Gui to the rest of the familia, and we couldn't have asked for anything more (except for maybe more time to eat at every place we had on our list). I can't wait for the next visit!!

While we were in San Antonio, I found a pair of the cutest flats at Gap and decided to get them because I figured if I found something better in Austin, I could always take them back. I don't know why, but I'm always really skeptical about buying something at the first place I see it...it worries me to think I'll find a better bargain or a higher quality items somewhere else. Anyway, I held on to these shoes - tags and all - until I got back to France (I had no need to wear them in Austin where the 100-degree temps called for strictly open-toed shoes). So, after a rainy day, I slipped these babies on and took to the streets, and found that they were totally worth the wait to wear them. I absolutely love how they feel and they go with practically everything I own. And, I know I could never have found a better or comparable deal here in Paris, so I'm a very happy shoe-wearer these days.

Yesterday I made a quiche. It's such a great recipe that after tasting it at her place, I made Melynda send it to me while Gui and I were living in Long Beach. I remember Gui going back at least twice to put another slice on his plate at Melynda's, so I immediately asked her to send me the recipe (it didn't hurt either that the recipe is pretty much a no-brainer if you get the pâte brisée pre-made). So, I've made this quiche a few times since, and it always brings a smile to Gui's face when I tell him that it's baking in the oven.

The recipe calls for bacon, which isn't something easily or cheaply found here, and is definitely not sold at the small supermarket by our place. What is sold, however, is lardon (fatty pork pieces that taste and cook similarly to bacon) which I can't help but think was the original ingredient for this recipe until it adapted to the more commonly found bacon in the States.

I find quiche to be such a delightful, satisfying dish that's filling, tasty and just pretty to look at. While I was picking up the lardon, I grabbed the rest of the ingredients I needed: Emmental (Swiss cheese), pâte brisée, and demi-écrémé - what I assumed was half-creamed milk. It wasn't until after I mixed the demi-écrémé with the eggs that I realized something was a little different. The mixture wasn't as dark or thick as it usually is. Maybe it was the eggs? Or, maybe the cream...did I translate that correctly? I remember Gui's mom asking me what I like to have in my cafe au lait, and when I told her "half-and-half," she showed me a box of demi-écrémé, to which I nodded and replied, "yes, half-cream and milk." It seemed right, but now, as I'm thinking about it, why did she always have such a large container of demi-écrémé in her fridge when she only drank espressos? Maybe demi-écrémé isn't "half-creamed milk," heck, I don't even know what half-creamed milk is. Half cream and half-milk, no? After googling it, I realized - while the quiche was baking in the oven - that I'd used skimmed milk in my quiche, instead of half-and-half. Doh!

The quiche turned out ok, actually. It tasted great, but wasn't firm like it's supposed to be. It worked, though and Gui was happy to eat anything even remotely resembling his favorite quiche. I'm quickly learning to keep my French-English dictionary handy when grocery shopping or translating ingredients. Oh, and I also learned that half-and-half is called demi-créme or créme light or something like that; just not demi-écrémé.

Unfortunately, I feel that this isn't going to be my last airhead moment while living here. In fact, just today I went to the store to buy bottled water. After looking at the grandiose water aisle, I grabbed the bottle in front of me, read eau minerale naturelle, took two and checked out. When Gui came home just a few minutes ago and offered me a drink, he asked why I bought the weird-tasting water that makes you regular. I bought wha? Yeah, apparently, the "natural mineral water" I thought I was purchasing was actually water for old people who have trouble going. Hey, I was just looking for something to keep me hydrated, if there's a few extra minerals in there, so be it. It might actually be better for me, what with my newly-acquired cheese-enriched diet. I'm just a little embarrassed at what the cashier was thinking when all I bought were those two bottles of "regularizing" water.

I've been over-indulging in everything I love this past week, including the following:














I'll blog about more specifics of our trip soon. It was such a fun week, but much too short. I wish I could have brought everyone back to Paris with me. There's never enough time to catch up, but I guess that just means I'll have to make more trips back!

I’m ironing my dishcloths. Oh, and my bath towels, too. It’s not very common for people here to own dryers. We don’t even have a dedicated space or plug for one in our apartment. So, instead of throwing all my wet linens and things into the dryer so they can be all warm and fuzzy before I put them away, I have to carefully hang it all on a drying rack (which is currently in the middle of our living room) and wait a day or so for it to be crispy dry. And, I do mean crispy. Who wants to bundle up with a stiff, scratchy blanket or dry off with a rough, hard towel? Not me. So, to smooth everything out a bit, I’ve taken to ironing my stuff after it’s dried – a little tidbit I learned, courtesy of Gui’s mom. I always wondered why she ironed his towels and socks and sheets. I just figured she was being your typical French mother from Italian descent. Now, I get it.

Doing all this ironing has got me thinking. Well, thinking about ironing. I don’t mind ironing. It’s a bit annoying at the moment because we don’t have a proper ironing board and I don’t really have a system down yet for the laundry. But, I figured out why people like me and my sister don’t mind ironing so much. It’s a really great opportunity for us to be in complete control of something in every way. So much so that we can achieve utter perfection in our end result. It’s not often that perfectionists get to where they want to be, but when you have a steaming iron in your hand and a wrinkled dishcloth in front of you, there’s nothing keeping you from making it into the perfect, wrinkle-free linen you desperately want it to become.

I’m sure this all sounds a little strange, but I’ve really thought about it. And it makes sense – at least to me. But, as much as I’m enjoying achieving perfection and all, I’m surely not made for all housewife-ish duties. I don’t particularly enjoy doing the dishes, the laundry, sweeping or mopping. I enjoy cooking, but we haven’t done so much of that lately since we’re not doing much grocery shopping until after we get back from Texas. And, I like grocery shopping, but like I said… So right now, at least until we get back from vacation and I start taking my French classes, I’ll have to be satisfied with being a desperately-wishing-to-not-be-a-desperate-housewife housewife in France.