The Blog About Nothing

I'm back again apologizing for the lack of blogging. When this occurs, it's safe to assume that either nothing is blog worthy or something catastrophic has happened, let's just always hope for the first option. I really do not have any chaotic incidents to report on as of late. However, the irony in the previous statement could be because I'm becoming accustomed to childish antics including dingleberries and disgruntled children. I am too young for that level of comfort with youngsters, so the kids must be learning to respect their elder au pair, right?! I really am searching through the mental rolodex of incidents trying to think of SOMETHING or ANYTHING to write about. I guess I'll just fill you in on life outside the house and social interaction with other au pairs. About two weekends ago, I had dinner with a friend form Lafayette who was in Paris for a few days. This was my first social foray,with someone older than 6, since I left Louisiana and couldn't have come at a better time. I had dinner with Sarah and one of her Parisian friends in the 15th and really enjoyed having conversation (in English) about what was going on in Lafayette, future travels, and analyzing living in Europe. Sarah is studying in Spain so hopefully a trip to Madrid is on the horizon for a quick visit.

Let's now dive into an analyzation of Parisian food on an au pair budget. I, like many other Travel Channel viewers, have a distorted reality of what it it like to eat in foreign countries - many thanks to Anthony Bourdain and Samantha Brown for the jaded concept of cuisine. While Boudain dines on foie gras and Brown on caviar, I am constantly searching for something, nay ANYTHING, without ham, eggs or bread. Not possible! Any menu on my measly budget includes nothing but crepes, galettes, croques (Madame and Monsieur, occaisionally Provencal), quiche and pizza. What's so wrong with all these options you ask? Well, each is made ONLY with some combination of ham, eggs and cheese. You could order pizza, too and you'll get eggs and ham on it. I'll probably never touch a piece of ham when I return to the states - eggs, which I normally love, might become a thing of the past. Man cannot survive on ham, eggs and cheese alone - where are my lamb shanks and pate, Bourdain and Brown!? Still hoping to pitch my new series to the Travel Channel, sort of like a Samantha Brown for backpackers. The show would consist of travelling on a student budget, where to stay, how to stay in hostels without getting robbed, where to eat, metro and transport deals. You're probably thinking it sounds like a good idea and why don't I send my idea to the Travel Channel. Rest assured, I've looked into it and you can't just send them ideas or they'll steal them and you get no royalties or credit. After looking at the Web site, that's the fine print says in so many words. I'd gladly let them take the idea, pay me for it and then I'll cash in on the royalties and eat my lamb or duck.

Enough about food, a typical tanget for anyone in my family, onto French classes. The irony in the French classes situation is that I was so ready to be done with school last May, I couldn't even fathom stepping foot into another classroom. To quote the ever intuitive Michael Scott of NBC's The Office, "Oh, how the turn tables..." - obviously this is the wrong saying, but you get the idea - I could NOT wait to start classes. After one full month of being socially inept, I began to wonder if I could hold a conversation with others outside of this village and with people my age. What do people my age like to do? How do I connect with someone over the age of 6? Then regressing to middle school years, will they even want to be my friend? So onto, the first day of school, I put on my best smocked dress reading "Kathleen" across the chest with little flowers stitched on, placed a HUGE matching bow in my hair and wondered if bringing a lunch was what the cool kids did...oh, the horror of the first day. I must admit that my first thought, thanks to four years of classes at LSU was, "Do I really have to go to school today? I can probably get away with skipping on the first day." Don't worry Dad, I went to class, but I was an hour late because I was waiting in the queue to pay for classes and didn't hear my name called to go upstairs to the classrooms. Poor Little Kat was picked last for the kickball team. I really was apathetic, this wasn't LSU, so if I was an hour late I probably missed the horrid, "Je m'appelle Kathleen. Je suis Americaine..." Once, I settled the score with the receptionist who handles the class payments, she rushed me up to the 3rd floor where I walked in to the classroom and explained why I was late. I then had to do the introduction anyway and was quickly paired up for a conversational exercise with an Asain woman named Sun. Dommage, this Sun was not the same Sun as on ABC's LOST. I was so ready to ask her what the hell was going on on that island and if she thought Jin was dead or alive and then reveal that, "No, Sun. Jin is alive, he was floating in the ocean, but they've found them. You don't have to kill anyone, now!" Then there would be a glorious celebration in the classroom full of pastries, celebrating Jin defying the odds of a boat blowing up. (If you do not watch LOST you will not understand the last 4 sentences. This was for you Dad, Andrew, Will and Matt).

Other than my delusions of figuring out the mysteries of LOST, it was a pretty standard first day in the class room. The next day there was a breakfast for all of the students and the au pairs went crazy getting telephone numbers and e-mails, in an attempt to form alliances for social interaction. The conversations started to freak me out when you get asked 10 or more times, "How old are YOUR kids? Where do you live? Are YOUR kids girls or boys?" HOLD UP, first of all, they are not MY kids, don't get too ahead of yourself. It's almost as if we've been sucked up into au pair world and far removed from American pop culture - so now we talk about "our" kids, instead of Lindsay Lohan's latest antics or the previous Thursday at Bogie's. I've made some friends and we've been able to do a few things on the weekends, which is a much welcomed change. Even the family is happy for me that I have social things to do, I think they were starting to feel bad for my Friday nights of 9:30 bed times. After all, sometimes I feel like I am 22 going on 37.

Last weekend was the Courir Pour La Curie, which is like Relay for Life in Lafayette. It is a race to combat pediatric cancer. Bertrand's mother, who reminds me so much of my grandmother Kay Kay (it's her French twin, I am convinced), came in and we had a great morning. I ended up running/walking a 10k for Team America. That's right, even in a French village there is still a super competitive Team America. Some of the expats in the area decided that they were going to try and beat the French scoundrels at their own game and run until we were all collapsing and heaving to get that plastic trophy. I went to go sign up as a part of my family's team, but was quickly rushed/pushed to the American table, where I was told to run my heart out. After I ran the 10k, Bertrand told me that, "that is so American, all of you running 4-6 times around to try and win." We all got a good laugh about that and I told him I completely forgot my American flag to tie around my neck and let it wave behind me as I ran, but not to worry, I'd remember next time. I also kept wanting to shout a few lines from Team America: World Police, but that would have been inappropriate.

All-in-all, so far, so good. It's been about a month and a half, but I'm still hanging in there and adapting to French life. I have a lot of pictures to put up, but currently Blogger isn't letting me post them. I'll try later, as I am quite tired from periodic wake-ups last night to check the LSU v. Florida score, via Twitter. Sounded terrible and stressed me out 5,000 miles away. I slept until about 11 today after multiple wake-ups and calls to BR via Skype at about 5am my time. I just had to know what what going on and the prognosis on the game. When I emerged into the kitchen, in my zombie-like state, I tried to explain this Saturday night phenomenon to Michele and Bertrand, they probably think I am crazy. However, my goal is to translate "Hey Fightin' Tigers" into French and make the kids sing it! I'll keep you posted on that endeavor. I'll be posting again soon. Sorry for the delay. Bisous.