// T-Minus 7 days to Mom France-a-Palooza//

It seems (once again) I have gotten a bit side tracked from this blog. I’m going to try to keep updating 2-3 times a week, but I have been slightly busier this past week in the “real world”. Barf. For two reasons:

~ My husband finally finished the paper he had been working on night and day for 2 months. Literally. A couple of times I went to sleep and woke up the next day and he was still typing away. Which I found really depressing.

~My mother is coming to visit. EEK! ARG! WOOP!

This involves deep cleaning along with my French language cram sessions and work for Houdini’s Muse.

That being said, I don’t really have a lovely French thing I’m blogging today. This is more of just an announcement of why I might go off the grid for a weeks. I will be back though. Hopefully with some good news!

You guys. Remember when everyone discovered Nutella and we were all like, “Thanks Europe!”


Well, I have found the new diabetes in a jar, and it is called. Speculoos.

It tastes pretty much EXACTLY like a ginger snap cookie. Some Gandalf-esque cooking wizard took the time and effort to make it into a paste like consistency, cutting out all that annoying and unnecessary chewing.

So thanks again Europe. For making something so outrageously delicious that I have to resort to gifs to adequately express my feelings.


// Boston//

Once again I turn on the TV to hear non-stop coverage of death

Once again my heart sinks.

Once again I watch smoke fill the air, and screams fill the wind, and panic smother it all.

Once again I feel sorrow and fear turn to anger and outrage. Why AGAIN? Why THERE? Why anywhere?

One step forward, two steps back.

I’m 26 and I feel old. Too old and too tired to fight back.  

// Je parle//

French people make the best noises. 

Every culture has noises that become synonymous with a feeling or a phrase because sometimes, yes, we are just that lazy. My favorite in America is how “I don’t know”  gets shortened to: “uhhhhHHnNNNuh”.

Irish people love the “ah”.  It gets tacked on to the beginning of a lot of sentences, usually to express a sort of ‘of course’ or ‘obviously’.

French people actually say “Oo La La”. FOR REALZ YA’LL. To be fair, it’s more of a ‘OH-la-la’ than ‘Oo-la-la’, but still, I secretly get giddy when I hear it come out of people’s mouths. It seems to be a sort of an exasperation noise…Like when you open your wallet and all the change spills onto the floor. Also, voilà. It just sounds so much nicer than ‘there it is’

Unfortunately, I have yet to hear anyone say sacré bleu.

I never get tired of these cats. Catchy, introspective, poetic. It’s nice to hear people singing about humanity. 

(Source: Spotify)

// Lesson A.1//

A short post today, but a very important lesson for one not used to living in Paris. 


This may be difficult at first, as I assume most people from the states (like myself) have a tendency to gaze aimlessly at all that is quaint, charming, and old old…not “America Old”. 

After spending a few weeks in gay Par-ee, I’ve managed to train my optic fibers with chameleon-like motor skills. One eye forward. One eye at street level. Why-you might ask? 


Seriously, I’m not joking. Even French people will tell you that the streets of Paris are mine-fields of the stuff. Also important to note: the nicer the area the greater the poop-to-sidewalk ratio. I guess rich people who walk their dogs assume the stuff magically disappears. Maybe it’s Parisians passive-aggressive way to hate on all the tourists? Either way…you have been warned. 

// Lesson A//

What do you do when you move to Ireland, marry an Irishman who gets a job in Paris, don’t speak French, and move there with him?

I felt it was my duty to wifely American Ex-Pats everywhere to tackle this oh, so, common conundrum and so this blog was born. Or maybe it’s just my way of talking to myself without seeming quite as crazy-either way YOU WIN.

I’ve been in Paris for a little over a week now, and while my French is improving (Thanks Rosetta Stone!), it is still far from holding a conversation that doesn’t involve a significant amount of blank stares and miming. Other then spending my time learning French, this leaves me with an ample amount of free time as finding a paying job for a creative-minded individual is difficult enough without throwing in the whole “I-speak-French-like-the-‘David-After-The-Dentist’-Kid”. 

So here is Lesson A for keeping yourself occupied while trying to figure what to do with your life:


This is somewhat difficult especially if you are in the 25-35 age bracket as facebook suddenly seems to have EXPLODED with all things baby. Your pleasant mindless facebook wanderings can spiral quickly into a black suck hole of despair as the siren song of baby bumps and pictures of tiny people in tiny shoes and hats mess with your rational mind:

A baby would give me something to do. I’m married now. I wouldn’t get the stink eye from great-aunt Myrtle like cousin Jed did when he brought home   “The Jew Girl”.

I find that watching an episode or two of 30 Rock quickly reminds me that I, like Liz Lemon, am quirky and nerdy and love ham….Basically, it’ll distract you for long enough for your brain to beat your ovaries back down into your womb.

By far
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