joie de vivre

 

 I posted this picture on facebook when we got back from our trip and I received a surprising number of comments recommending it as our Christmas card picture.

 First off, am I old enough to be sending out my own Christmas card?  I'm pretty sure the two of us have a combined age of about eight, maybe ten on good days.  But we're married and job hunting, not really living on our own yet, though we're working on it.  I guess this means we do send out a Christmas card.  Weird...  Now I'm contemplating what photos I would use.  It's kind of fun to think about everything that has already happened this year!


 Anyway, wanted to share a few thoughts on Paris before I get back to useful things, like ironing and thank you notes (yes, they're still not done...I'm horrible).

This was my second trip to the city of lights and overall, I thoroughly enjoyed myself more than my first time.  I think several things contributed to this. 

1. I was with Mr. F.  It's the city of love for crying out loud!  Even without the kisses on Pont Neuf, I loved experiencing the city through Mr. F's eyes.  He soaked in everything and I got a fresh sense of how wonderful Paris really is.

2. After living in Germany, where I speak no German...at all...it was so much fun to be surrounded by a language I understand a bit more.  My French consists of two very shaky years of training in high school (oh goodnes...) and three months in Brussels.  Somehow between these two situations I know enough to order food and feel confident enough to say hello to people.  That's enough for me.

3.  Just last week I finished a book, The Greater Journey by David McCullough, giving the history of Paris in the nineteenth century through the perspectives of influential Americans living there.  That in combination with several other books I have read in recent years gave me a much better knowledge and appreciation of everything around me.  For example, I marveled all the more at the Louvre knowing that it has been open to the public for a couple of centuries now as a museum.  During the nineteenth century, the reigning French government of the time wanted to destroy the Louvre.  That's when the people revolted again.

a statue from Versailles.  isn't she pretty?

A quick rundown of what we saw:  Sacre Couer, the Louvre, Musee d'Orsay, Notre Dame, Tour de Eiffel, Palace of Versailles, the Sorbonne, the Pantheon, and the Arc de Triomphe.  I don't know if my feet have ever hurt so badly or been as filthy as when we got back to Germany from this excursion.  We walked from sun up to sundown the whole fifty-six hours or so we were there.  Mr. F and I have begun to embrace the true European spirit in which we would walk as long as we could before sitting for as long as we could at a cafe.  French food is not to be underestimated.  We ate simply, mainly baguette sandwiches, but they were absolutely divine.  Did you know that sliced camembert cheese on a baguette with a little butter and lettuce could make a filling sandwich?  Well, let me tell ya, it's not only filling, but positively delicious!

Mr. F's favorite thing was the Louvre.  He looked like a kid in a candy store as we wandered the palace of art.  He was astonished by the history of the building and taken aback by the vastness and richness of the collection.  He handpicked a few pieces he definitely wanted to see, namely the Venus de Milo and the Code of Hammurabi. 

As cheesy as it sounds, I think my favorite part of the trip was being there with Mr. F.  The more time we spend together the greater I understand how lucky I am to have married my best friend.  We really have so much fun together!

fresh out of the oven

When I was about seven or eight, my parents took us on a trip to what I still consider to be heaven, Prince Edward Island. I was at that point in the peak of my obsession with Anne of Green Gables and felt like someone had just offered me the macdaddy of prizes. My parents being as awesome as they are devoted the trip to all things Anne. We saw Green Gables, walked through the haunted wood, and visited the White Sands Hotel. When we got to Charlottetown, we completed our visit with Anne of Green Gables: the Musical.

So, I'll be honest, this trip was awhile ago and I remember little to none of it. I remember the ferry ride to the island (now there's a bridge, how lame!), walking across the lawn in front of Green Gables, and a picnic in the forest along the coast. One of the few other things my fantasy-riddled memory has stored away is one scene from the musical. A few of the characters got together and sang about eating a healthy portion of humble pie. While I had heard the idiom prior to this experience, it was the first time I ever really understood the concept. In a few words, I took it to mean, "Suck up your pride." To my eight year-old mind, nothing could be more humbling than admitting to Rachel Lynde that you had done something wrong.

This early experience in a Canadian theater has been bubbling to the surface of my pensieve lately. Almost daily I find myself pulling another pie out of the oven and taking a heaping mouthful. I never realized what a challenge it was to ask for help. Sticking my needs on the back burner to be a friend to someone else. Admitting I'm doing alright. Striking up a conversation. Showing up at certain events. Making a phone call. Not making a phone call. Dealing with the mockery of buckeyes. Laughing. Crying. Painting. Cleaning. Make social engagements. Praying. Listening. Lately, all of these things require me to humble myself a bit further.

I don't remember any of the words to the song sung, nor the faces of the actors. I have a faint recollection of the sparse set. But more significantly to me today, I remember that feeling, of "sucking it up" and doing something. And Anne of Green Gables and how much I want to be her when I grow up. So rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub. Dish me up another slice of humble pie, and a date with Gilbert Blythe. Amen.

intro to world cultures 102: religion and music

When I moved into my ward here in Columbus one thing was made abundantly clear to me: I was a misfit in a sea of medical and dental students. I would be asked if I painted or something of the like, as that obviously had to be what I meant when I said I came here to study Arts Policy and Administration.

It was then that I decided to become a cultural liaison for these poor, overworked, scientific leaders of the future.

With that in mind, three of my new friends joined me last night at Trinity Lutheran Seminary on the southeast side of Columbus. One these friends had never heard of a seminary outside of an LDS context (early morning religious study for high school aged members). Attending a school where people were taught to be clergy was an experience in and of itself.

The Seminary Choir and Chamber Orchestra lured us there with Haydn's Mass in D Minor. It has been ages since I've attended a concert of such a classical repertoire and I was more than anxious for it. What I did not realize was that there was also a worship service bookending the Mass. Stand up, sit down, call and answering. It was all there. We even got to sing several hymns of praise with the choir and orchestra, making this wayward musician feel like she was a part of grand ensemble for a change.

The Mass was absolutely beautiful. The soprano handled the melismas exquisitely and the bass painfully reminded me that my lifelong ambition of sharing his vocal timbre will never come to fruition. The acoustics were sublime, resonating the well-honed abilities of the amateur musicians through the intimate space.

For my friends, it was the first time they had been to a Lutheran worship service of any kind. I was extremely proud of the way they participated in the impromptu service with great respect and reverence. Not everyone can do that when being exposed to a new kind of worship.

The whole event reminded me of how fortunate I was in my upbringing. Due to the nature of my family and my childhood in Detroit, it was never really an option to not know of multiple faiths and to worship with them on occasion. Though we may not all believe the same things, we show one another love and respect by worshiping together, learning of what one another holds dear. As much as I enjoyed Haydn's music last night, I think I enjoyed the overall experience even more.

positive reenforcement

I got the picture, that you finally sent.
I read your letter, and I know what you meant.
That's you and me, in Salt Lake City.
You sure look pretty.

Wish we could go back again.

And are you on my mind, every day, all the time?
And though you're far away, don't you know, I feel the same.

Oh well anyway, I just called to say,
Everything's gonna be okay.
Your friends aren't that far away.
Anyway.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Think of me with you.

Oh well anyway, I just called to say,
Everything's gonna be okay.
Your friends aren't so far away.
Tomorrow's another day.

Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.

Think of me with you.

Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.
Don't get so down on yourself.

Think of me with you.
Cause I do. I think of you

Chris Isaak, Don't Get So Down on Yourself

"we ain't got it!"

I'm broke. No denero for me. None. Nowhere, zip, zilch, nada. But I like stuff. It's a weakness, I know. So I thought I would share some of the results of items that have been tempting me to dig deep into my nonexistent coffers.

Craft in America. Best freaking documentary EVER..so long as you are a complete and utter art geek. Fortunately for me, I am!

Oh yes, there's a book, too. A gorgeous book! Dang PBS and all of the wonders it reveals to me...

100 Flowers and How They Got Their Names is a darling little book I found at the library and fell in love with (go figure!). It gives the etymology of each flower and a little about where the flower can be found with a sweet black and white sketched image of each blossom. The drawings are fantastic and the history is just genius. Plus, I like the flower names. Some of them are rather cute.

Breast cancer awareness at its best. Is there really a need for more explanation to this? I think not. There's also a shirt that says "Thanks for noticing, Save the Tatas" but I opted out of the image for it. Still on the list though.

This list is not including the blouses from J.Crew, the beautiful navy blue sweater with leather buttons, or the soundtrack for (500) Days of Summer. Or cake from Pronto. Or cocoa from Caribou. Or the cool Michigan book I saw at Borders last week. Or the random tree book I haven't found yet.

Moral of the story: I am not cut out for poverty; I like helping the economy too much.

oh, the fates

This past weekend was my test run with Columbus. Register at the DMV, set up a new bank account, try out a concert in the park. It was going to be totally productive, set my nerves at ease, and convince me once and for all that I was ultimately fine with applying to OSU.

None of those things happened the way they were supposed to. Not one.

I am still happily a resident of Michigan for the time being because I inadvertently forgot all the necessary paperwork to meet the requirements at the DMV. Completely negates the purpose of going down to Columbus, but somehow, I'm just fine with my perpetuated status as a Michigander.

The concert in the park was a lot of fun, really, it was. The Columbus Symphony Orchestra puts on a series every summer called Picnic With the Pops. Every weekend for about two months, a guest artist appears with the orchestra for an outdoors extravaganza. What no one mentioned to me before arriving at last weekend's concert was that the freaking Ohio State Marching Band was the guest artist. How did I find out? The blazing sea of scarlet and grey surrounding me. I was wearing a solid blue shirt. Cobalt. Freaking. Blue.

As the concert began, I dove deep into the familiar world of the performing arts as the orchestra played pieces I've studied for several years now and a few I'd gladly hear again. (Concerto for Cellphone, bound to be a classic.) Then it was time for, and I quote, "The Best Damn Band in the Land" to play. Gag me now...the best damn band in the land? Seriously?

I'm sad to report, they were pretty damn good. Feathered hats off to them as they are incredible group of musicians. But they totally lost me when they started up on a rousing rendition of "I Don't Give a Damn About the Whole State of Michigan." Catchy tune that it is, I have no recollection of any of the music played after that. We weren't ten minutes into the set and I had heard more Michigan jokes than I'd ever like to hear again.

Despite that, I'm really grateful for this past weekend. I refamiliarized myself with parts of Columbus, found a fantastic market, discovered that the Ann Arbor based bookstore Borders DOES exist in OSU territory, and that I really will be fine.

Even if no one else there gives a damn about the whole state of Michigan.