Posts tagged with "musings"
Friday, 24. July 2009, 13:50:18
musings, language, funny, in French
En passant devant un cordonnier ce matin, je me suis rappelé qu'étant petite, j'associais l'image d'un cordonnier qui rafistolait des chaussures au mot "coordonnées". D'ailleurs, je croyais que le métier c'était "coordonnier", et lorsque ma mère parlait de "donner ses coordonnées", je ne voyais vraiment pas le rapport.
Je me souviens d'une autre association rigolotte datant de la même époque, peu ou prou. C'était lorsque mon père courait après mon frère et moi, en nous menaçant d'une raclée, l'image que j'avais en tête était celle du papa courant en cercle derrière ses enfants, une clé démesurée a la main. Ça m'amusait au moins autant que ça nous amusait de faire courir mon père, qui lui aussi s'amusait à nous courir après. (Avertissement: La raclée n'était qu'un pretexte au jeu, pas une menace réelle.)
Wednesday, 17. June 2009, 14:07:27
silly, musings
There's a house I like on the way between home and work and it's for sale. So I looked up the realtor's website and the price is EUR 870000. I didn't go "ouch!" until I converted to French Francs. 5.7M! Ouch!
I've had the Pearl Jam song "this is not for you" in my head since then.
Monday, 6. April 2009, 15:19:38
memories, funny, musings
I was always too shy to do drama (and always worried on the several occasions it was suggested to me as a means to overcome shyness. A few years ago, my boss told me I should consider "improv" and it freaked me out so much that my instinct response was to think about quitting, which I didn't do). However, I did go on stage, three times.
I don't have many recollections. Shame must have taken care of blanking them from my memory.
The first time I went on stage, I was between 3 and 6 years old and the occasion was the celebration of the end of the school year. Our teacher had decided our class was an Indian tribe. I was the squaw (i.e. the chief's wife) and I was to present our newborn baby to the tribe. I don't know that these memories are mine or based on hearing my parents recounting the story, but I do remember waiting in the teepee --with the baby doll-- for the signal my teacher would give me. At the signal I was to come out of the teepee and present the baby. I was told that I came out of the teepee holding the baby by an ankle, presenting the newborn upside down.
During the summer of 1985, I was visiting my aunt in Corsica for a month, and I was in a play for the second time. Someone in the village had decided that keeping the kids busy with a theater play was better than letting us wander the streets and woods around in search of some trouble to make. I was to be a maid. I practised long and hard, I remember that much. I also remember that the representation was to occur only a few days after I turned 10. I don't actually remember the play or whether it was a success. But my aunt remembers things. Like I was very unhappy that I was to be a simple maid. That she had to reveal to me the importance of maids at the time the play was set in. She also remembers that she helped me with reheasals. If I had been a promising actress, I'm positive she would have complimented me 
The third time I was on stage was, similarly to the first time, at the occasion of the school fair. I was almost 12 and it felt like the last school assignment I had to do before being rewearded with the summer holiday. Our teacher had picked an episode of "The Love Boat". I was the goffer. I remember a few things, but none related to the play itself. I remember being glad I was wearing a white outfit because it was a really hot and sunny day and we were not acting in the shade. I remember wishing I would not trip when I climbed the stairs to go on stage (I don't think I did, otherwise I would remember). And the other thing I remember is the make-up artist telling me the shape of my eye-brows was perfect and how pleased I was by what he had told me. I was also surprised because never before had I considered that eye-brows shape was something to have an opinion on. (I'm totally digressing but I have to note that either fashion changed since then, or the said shape changed and became not so perfect over time. Or the guy made fun of me in the first place.)
Tuesday, 3. March 2009, 18:11:12
musings, language, silly
I have been working hard and am now in much need of a break. This assignment I'm working on makes my brain hurt. So much that for the past hour, I've been wandering from one butterfly to the other. I may as well blog, and then go back to the assignment.
The other day on TV there was a character which name I couldn't quite make out. She was either a "Dina" or a "Tina". That made me think how the suffix "ina" could fit with numerous consonants:
{d,f,g,h,l,m,n,p,r,t,,}ina
"Ina" is also an existing first name.
I've always been somewhat interested by language stuff. However not enough to know how it is called.
I remember as a teenager how I realised with wonder that "aude" was similar to "claude" and "maude" and how all of them could be transformed into "audine", "claudine", "maudine" and still sound nice.
Tuesday, 25. November 2008, 15:15:15
fear, i don't like, musings, hypnosis
...
This is an entry on snowphobia and a failed hypnosis session some years ago.
I have snowphobia. I like snow (although it's cold and I prefer things hot :). It's walking and driving on slippery surfaces that freak me out.
There was a very local hailstorm over the Sophia Antipolis area last night and when I drove to the office this morning I was surprised the area was all white. At first it was beautiful. I was safely driving on ploughed roads.
But at the round-about near the office, the ice was there to meet my tires and it was no longer beautiful but unnerving. I did well. I "beached" my car where I could, blocking two others (leaving a note to the attention of the owners with my cellphone number on it, and it was tempting to add "and please, move my car yourself if it's in your way" ;).
This reminds me of the failed hypnosis session that occured back in December 2004. Being impaired by my phobia, I did the sensible thing and made an appointment with a doctor who practiced hypnosis.
He made me sit on a comfortable leather armchair, rest my hands on my thighs, close my eyes and listen to his monotonous and quiet voice.
He made me imagine I was in a place I like and I was feeling good about it. So I was on a large beach of white sand, taking a nice walk and enjoying the warm breeze, the small number of people (at a good distance) and the melodic sound of the waves.
Then he made me go in my car for an enjoyable ride. He said it was starting to rain but I was safe. The rain was light and I was comfortable driving. Then I drove down a slope and I was still safe, and I was still enjoying myself. Then he made me go back to the beach.
I got off the car and was to transfer my fears on framed pictures. I was to carry the pictures to the air balloon that was moored on the beach. I carried the frames and put them in the basket. I cut the moorings and saw the air balloon lifting up.
At this point my friend Dino suddenly appeared in the basket and was waving bye bye, smiling at me!
I backtracked quickly to the previous scene so as to re-do it again, Dino-free. But there he was again! appearing in the basket of the air balloon and waving bye bye while smiling.
That was the end of the session. Too bad it was ruined so close to the end!
The doctor was confident that would do it. But in case I was still frightened to drive on frozen surfaces or snow, I was to schedule another appointment with him. I am still very uncomfortable with snow, ice and all slippery surfaces, but I never scheduled another appointment.
Sunday, 24. August 2008, 11:42:33
musings, speed, bad habit
I drive fast, probably in response to my dad's unbearably slow driving habit. Or simply perhaps because I like it. I feel I have to say I'm prudent and I've never been in an accident. I've been driving for 13 years.
Last week there was a Gendarmerie unmarked car parked on the side of the road, with a small radar attached at the back of it, to measure I was above the speed limit. The flash shone just as I was realizing what the suspicious protuberance at the back of the car might me. I had no idea how fast I was driving, and there was no other car in front or behind to give me some perspective on speed. I felt I was driving at a reasonable speed :)
A week later I received by post the "avis de contravention au code de la route". 97 km/h (60 mph). That is 7 km/h (4 mph) above the limit. The fine is EUr 68 but only EUR 45 if I pay within 2 weeks. If I don't pay within 45 days, then it's EUR 180.
So I've been thinking about speed, speed limit, common good sense and that kind of things.
My denial of responsibility didn't last long, but my first reaction was to find somebody to blame for the flash. And that was the person I had been stuck behind for too long, right before I was able to pass them and speed up a bit. This guy was driving well below the speed limit. I've always been pretty annoyed with people driving below the speed limit, now they *upset* me.
I thought also that I was disappointed (ashamed, even) to enter the public record for such an unremarkable performance! It's possible that my speedometer indicated I was driving as fast as 110 km/h. But still. I was reminded of the French comics "Joe Barr Team". One of the bikers brings his ticket to the police, visibly unhappy, telling them their friggin' radar is borken. He was driving way faster in that curve :) No, really, it's disappointing. Especially considering I could have driven up to 20 km/h above the limit for the same fine!
Saturday, 26. July 2008, 14:45:03
musings, baby, life
An ambitious title for such a small consideration, really.
A while ago, a colleague of mine and I were reflecting on the numerous things we forget about our babies and how these moments, as they happen, seem unforgettable.
I am glad I log many facts on Adrien's life (among which, his blog), and there are the photos I take and the videos too.
Saturday, 31. May 2008, 15:09:41
musings, language
Sometimes yardworking is no bed of Roses. And sometimes, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. What kind of yarkworker are you? The kind to
Beat around the bush?
Shake like a leaf?
Hold out an olive branch?
Nip in the bud?
Go the whole nine yards?
Dig the dirt?
Not let the grass grow under your feet?
Be out of your tree?
Not see the wood for the trees?
And when you're done, do you come out smelling of roses?
Thursday, 29. May 2008, 09:14:43
funny, silly, musings, language
Many years ago I remember someone often said "E pericoloso sposersi" and laughed. I asked what it meant and was told it was a pun in Italian and that it meant that it was dangerous to get married.
I didn't understand why it was dangerous to get married, nor did I understand what was laughable about it. But nevermind, as the adult world was still very foreign to me.
Years later I was in an Italian train and spotted a notice by a window: "E pericoloso sporgersi" which meant it was dangerous to lean out of the window. Aha. Now it made sense!
However the mystery remains ; what made this person often say "E pericoloso sposersi" and laugh? Perhaps he had an omnipresent wife...
Saturday, 10. May 2008, 11:42:34
musings
I am attached to smells for the memories they bring.
The smell of fig trees reminds me of my first time in Corsica, as a child, as I was visiting my aunt. Her house is in the mountains, in a small village. The sweet and powdery smell of fig trees was everywhere on the path around the village. I was 10 years old and I hadn't smelled fig trees before. It's unrelated to smells but I hadn't seen donkeys before either and I "met" them during this holiday. One even stepped on my toe and I thought the animal was heavy but I would have imagined the resulting pain to be bigger.
The yellow Dop shampoo brings me back to a summer in the late 80s or possibly in the early 90s. I was around 15 years old. I was at my grand-parents' house in the country (Bévenais, Isère). The fresh smell reminds me of counting goldfish in the little pond and petting the neighbour's kittehs. Madame Guidy had named one of them "Kitty" after my suggestion. Thinking about this moment brings back memories of being impressed by the powerful car of my grand-father and enjoying how fast he was driving, compared to my father. I'm also reminded of hanging my towel to dry out the window and being lectured by my grand-father that this was not Italy and to please, bring that towel back in the bathroom immediately. How peculiar that was considering there was no neighbour or passer-by to see that towel hanging. Of "inside the house", I have few memories. Oddly enough the clearest is that of the water closet. A fantastic and interesting hiding place. It had windows on all three sides of the room and although there wasn't much happening in the garden I remember I liked to stay there and watch, and think. Also the little room was home to the collection of Readers' Digest. I was reading them for hours as we had no magazines at home. I was very often ordered to vacate the facility ;) I also remember helping my grand-mother with some chores, like doing the dishes. We were to clean them before putting them in the dish-washer (go figure), and we were to dry them thoroughly afterwards.
The fragrance of Pleasures, by Estée Lauder, makes me travel back to Edinburgh in Scotland, some 12 years ago. I was wearing that perfume when I was studying there. A whiff of Pleasures and I find myself walking down Lothian Road, turning toward the restaurant Fat Sam and waiting at the bus stop to go to college. The wind was cold, so cold it was biting my ears. But the smell of the perfume was around me because of the wind. I returned to Edinburgh several times, since then, and made sure to bring the perfume with me.
The smell of the henna hair conditioner by Timotei turns instantly my bathroom into one of the shower cabins I was using in March 2005 when I was vacationing in New Zealand. For example, I often find myself in the shower block at the awesome and original Napier Prison Backpackers. One thing leading to another, at least for the duration of the hair care, I can revisit any part of New Zealand that I know from the fabulous 3-week holiday.
Of the numerous perfumes I wear, there is another one that brings me memories. L'Eau d'Issey (it sounds like "l'Odyssée") by Issey Miyake reminds me of Roslindale, of Boston, of Amy and our huge collection of good moments. I had it when I was living in the US and A and I had several others, one of which (the Rose Essentielle by Bulgari) made Amy a little nauseous (sorry!). I took L'Eau d'Issey with me to the hospital where I gave birth to Adrien, because a colleague of mine had advised me to bring a perfume that I like. Her theory being that a familiar and pleasant smell fosters wellness and good spirits. Now, the smell of this fragrance reminds me of Adrien, of his godmother Amy and of the places I was when he was growing inside me.
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