Parisian dreams

Recovering from another sleepless night, I have spent the day worrying about my trip to Paris eight months from now to celebrate ma cinquante annee. In my web crawling I have decided, a) I like the hotel I booked even it is expensive and not mentioned in any guidebook, b) I will have to be tres joli and thin when I get there because I'm saving up my clothes budget until then, c) I'm traveling light because I want to take the RER & Metro from the airport and not worry about dragging around too much luggage, d) we may go to Provence, as the weather should be marvielleux, e) I'm a f---ing lucky bitch. Oh yeah, and we can't go to Wilco in East Lansing cause of the Pension conference in Washington. At least that hotel is 3 1/2 stars. It would have to be for me to be sanguine about missing Jeff Tweedy.

All this is a dodge from yesterday's revelations. Dad has "parkinsonism" symptoms from the mother f---ing anti-depressants. I should have stayed at the writers group as the new attendee Charmie is both a party-er, and a published writer with an agent. PV's sister Kathy is in the hospital now with "cognitive symptoms" from the brain tumor, and whenever someone's end is near, well the f---ing world just seems that much more precious.

At least ma mari took care of me last night in the sweet Monday after vacation unlikely-to-get-lucky surprise of it all. Eat your heart out Mr. Tweedy.

TODAY'S FRENCH LESSON courtesy of
http://squeamishgirl.blogspot.com/

"Il faut que je soit nicable". He had a very hearty laugh and responded, "Yes, that's true, but that's not what she said." Confused, I replied, "But how do you know, how can you be so sure?"

He laughed again and said that she must have said "Il faut que tu soit nickel" (You need to be perfect), because he would have been shocked had she said, as I understood, You need to be fuck-able.