September 2004 Archives

Insane in the brain

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Normally my web host is fantabulous, but this week things have gone a little haywire.

Somehow in the last week, since I last posted, something went kaput in my MT (blog publishing system). I hadn't touched anything in the back end for months, and it was working fine last week, so it couldn't have been me. The site was down for 24 hours earlier this week, so I think it was something to do with that.

Anyway, I went to post last night and MT was coughing up the most obscure error that I've ever seen, so I did a bit of research on the net, but couldn't find an answer, so I contacted my host. After a few emails, they said, "no, we don't see what's wrong" (they do have a great support service). 24 hours later, magically, it's fixed. I don't know whether it was the little elves working in MT or someone tweaked something on their end, but it works, so I'm happy.

I figure it was something to do with whatever maintenance they were doing earlier this week. I'm just relieved that they fixed it and it's all beautiful again.

Cos I'm cranky. And tired. And didn't want to have to farfouille partout to figure out how to fricken fix the thing.

Can't think in English. Can't think in French.





I am sure I just saw a cow fly past the window.

A cow covered in blue spots.

France is being invaded.

Perhaps I'd better put on my tinfoil hat.

Busy bee

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My two projects came back from the printers looking beyootiful and I was heaped with praise!


Migraines that won't go away even with medication! Made worse by new upstairs neighbours drilling holes in their concrete apartment walls during the evening!


My work is organising a Congr?s (Exhibition?) which will be held over 4 days next week. The two weeks prior are filled with loooooong hours of work - totally unorganised stuff that could be pulled together neatly if they actually stopped and thought about it instead of ploughed into it like bulldozers. Next I'll enjoy 4 days of snatching 6 hours sleep and getting up at an unearthly hour.


More crap is going on at my place of employ but I refuse to bitch about it on here, so I'll say another ...

... Un-Huzzah!

Do you need some help, sir?


The last two days at my work have been filled with screams of "help!" and "can you hear me? squeeze my hand if you can hear me!", as we've all been occupied doing our First Aid course.

More than anything, it was a humbling experience. I know that, two days ago, if I was confronted with a person collapsing in front of me, I probably wouldn't have known what to do. My first reaction would have been to call the Ambulance and ... stand open-mouthed, watching, hoping that the person wasn't going to die in front of me. I might have knelt down, taken their hand and murmured totally unuseful but reassuring noises, but that's about the extent of it.

I'm not saying that now I'll be able to go out there and save lives, but at least I'll have a better idea of what to do if I'm ever confronted with a situation where someone is hurt, ill, unconscious, not breathing, whatever... I'll still be packing my dacks, but at least I might be able to help someone at the same time.

Relaxed attitude

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This morning I did something totally uncharacteristic of me.

On a normal day, after the alarm goes off at 7:15am, we nap for 5 minutes longer, receive lots of kitten kisses and listen to much purrage, then we get up and go about our usual morning routine. I leave the apartment between 8 and 8:12am, depending on whether I want to get to work a few minutes early or right on time.

This morning, I listened to the alarm go off at 7:15am, fell right back asleep, and woke up at 7:55am. I got up slowly, mozied into the bathroom, got myself ready at a very relaxed pace, ate my breakfast and drank my coffee. I wandered to the station, via the supermarket to see if they still had the sort of casual carry bag I wanted (no, they didn't, and yes, I'm addicted to handbags). I arrived at the station to find the trains were all blocked, la circulation est fortement perturb?, so I sat down and read my book until the train arrived.

I go to work 10-15 minutes later than normal, but I feel really good. Cool. It's amazing how much of a difference a little sleep-in and a relaxated attitude can make.

Au secours !

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All day tomorrow and Thursday, we're doing Red Cross training at my place of employ. The "models" were delivered today - a male, a female, and a baby - and they've already been given names by the crazy staff that work here.

I'm actually looking forward to it, as I will learn something, and I think we're going to have fun. Unless the trainer is a crazy psycho dictator who doesn't like laughter in his/her classes, and then I'll spend two days being bored out of my brains, without even a computer in front of me.


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We are in the midst of designing the book jacket for a new work that is to be produced by my place of employ.

My boss wants it to be red.

The problem is deciding what sort of red is should be.


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*happily feeds the Kadoaties*

11 down, 64 to go.

Man, I need a life.

It's getting chillier here, we're both wearing socks, long pants and sweaters - I'm sure it will only be a matter of time before the psychohosebeasts that manage our apartment building turn the heating up and we'll be pulling off the socks and wandering around the apartment in shorts and tshirts again.

The apartment is heated by hot pipes under the floor, and because our apartment is on the lowest level, it is heated first, and all the other apartments get heated after us. We're the first and the hottest, with no control over any thermostat. At least Symphony will be happy - she just picks a spot, any spot, and flops onto the floor to warm up.

Anyway... I'm cooking good old spag bog for dinner. I'm very much looking forward to the routine of chopping up the garlic and onion, frying it up in the pan and letting the wonderful smells fill the apartment. Heh, my mouth is watering and my tummy is rumbling just thinking about it.

It's got your name on it!

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Three girls and a guy are sitting at a table in a Chinese Restaurant in the Vth Arrondissement.

Katia, looking at the menu, asks, "c'est quoi, le Poulet Kam Wah?" (What is the Chicken Kam Wah?)

The two other girls shrug, and one of them responds, "j'sais pas". (I don't know)

The guy looks at Katia thoughtfully for a moment, then grins, "C'est le Poulet qu'? toi" (it's the chicken that's all for you!)

The two other girls and the guy then spend the next minute laughing their heads off. Katia smiles and giggles distractedly as she searches her brain for why it could possibly be so funny.

Suddenly, it hits, and Katia laughs hysterically. The others realise that she hadn't understood before, but she "gets it" now, and that's even funnier. The four of them are bent over their menus with laughter and they have to wave the waiter away for a few moments whilst they catch their breath.

Too corny

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Normally I need to make a trip into the 13th, and visit the fabulous Asian supermarkets in Paris' "Chinatown", if I want corn on the cob. This is simply not something one finds very often here in France. It's easy to get corn kernels in a can, or in packets in the frozen goods section, but rarely on the cob.

Sylvains parents were thrilled to eat corn on the cob in Australia - it was an unusual treat for them. My parents wrapped them in alfoil, with a dab of butter, and grilled them on the barbecue.

I was delighted, therefore, to find some corn on the cob in our local Monoprix. Unfortunately, they were asking 3 euros 80 for two small cobs, so even though I love the stuff, I wasn't that desperate.

A new category

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Earlier this week at the Abbey Bookshop, I picked up a copy of American Gods, by Neil Gaiman.

I don't know what drew me to the book, other than it was in one of the enormous pile of books that is littered around the shop. I devoured it in less than 48 hours, doing my usual reading-while-walking-to-the-station trick (while-occasionally-glancing-at-the-footpath-to-avoid-the-piles-of-dog-poop! I have the technique down pat).

I enjoyed it so much that I went back to the bookstore yesterday (Brian gave me a lovely cup of coffee with maple syrup in it whilst I browsed), and got two more of his books. Smoke and Mirrors is a series of short stories, and Stardust is just pure magic. I literally have to slow myself down as I go and put the book down at the end of a section, because they're such a wonderful read, and I'm going through them so fast!



*am considering getting The Sims 2 for PC*
I was so addicted to The Sims when it first came out - then I got addicted to Neopets and that was the end of that...
I don't know if it will be coming out on PS2 and if I should wait for that instead.
*am so geeky*


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WELCOME TO THE WORLD, CLAIRE MARY!!!! All my love and congratulations to Alexis and Phil.

Pinky and the brain

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I went and saw my doctor tonight (thankfully it was my regular, fantabulous Dr. L., and not the crazy insano replacement Doctor Lady). As I suspected, I'm suffering from migraines.

There are some days when my left eye throbs, I see stars, the left side of my face is pulses, the muscles in the left side of my neck feel like they're going to explode. There are some days when I get home from work and it's all I can do to sit on the couch and breathe in and out. I go to bed, hoping the pain will disappear, but I wake up in the morning with the same headache.

So... He listened to my symptoms and said, "classic migraine case". He's given me medication. I wanted to avoid it, but I think I need to do something about it, as it's getting too ridiculous. I had migraines for a little while in high school, and after a year or so they stopped - hopefully they will simply disappear again altogether this time around.

I'm spoken for

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I've come to a realisation that Sylvain and I speak a sort of stunted English at home. Our sentences are littered with French words and phrases, but we don't bother to correct each other, because that just slows the conversation down.

I'm not challenging myself linguistically, and writing doesn't help, because I have time to pause, to think.

I should call my sister this weekend. She has an uncanny ability that makes me want to be a linguistic smart arse, and it always gets me back into shape.

Put a sock in it

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A cold spell has hit us this week - autumn is really setting in.

I feel a pang of regret as I put away my sandals and look at my winter shoes. The only good thing is that all of my socks are "fun".

Yesterday, I knew I was in for a long day, so I wore a pair of the brightest, pinkest of pink socks that anyone did see. It was a bit of a contrast to my black sweater and brown pants - ok, let's admit it, it totally clashed - and I giggled when I put them on in the morning.

Several people noticed them throughout the day, as the cuffs of my pants flick up when I walk - there were a few comments from various colleagues - "wow, Katia, your socks are ... um ... quite bright!"

I responded with a smile and said, "well, when the day is long and not necessarily easy, it's nice to know that there is something bright and cheery in my world".

They nodded solemnly and walked away. I'm know they all think I'm nuts, but they're used to it by now.

*pats the fishy*

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My office is currently shared by three people, one of whom will be leaving in a month, and one of whom is here only part time. With crazy deadlines and stuff, this job can be sometimes quite stressful.

So we're thinking about getting a goldfish for our office. I think it would be a nice, calming sort of addition. Better than a plant, anyway.

Actually getting the fish is going to be a rather big adventure - I think I will have to get the bowl and stuff first near my place, then from my work, I'll have to cross the Seine and get the fish itself at the March? aux Animaux, and bring it back.

A bit of positive animation in our office will do us all a hell of good.

All drawn out

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People who know me in real life may be surprised to hear that I'm learning how to draw.

Really, honestly, truly - I'm learning how to draw! No pinkuters involved!

Although I am a creative type person, I've always been the biggest spazmogadazmo when it comes to drawing, leaving the visual arts to my sister.

I began to dabble seriously in graphic stuff a few years ago at university, but always with the aid of my pinkuter... and now that's part of my job - I am currently taking a petit pause from designing the front cover of a magazine right now. heh.

Anyway, I am now entering the world of drawing, putting pencil to paper, no pinkuters around to help me. I suspect that there may be something wrong with me. heh.

In print

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I just sent off my latest baby to the printer, so whilst my sleep over the next few nights will be punctuated by me jolting awake in a panic that I've screwed something up something really important (like, oh, putting a Ministers signature upside-down on the fourth page - as if I'd ever do something as silly as that), I do feel better that it's gone.

Hoo... One down, one to go.

Next please!

In print

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I just sent off my latest baby to the printer, so whilst my sleep over the next few nights will be punctuated by me jolting awake in a panic that I've screwed something up something really impos and pinks. I really especially love the shoes, and suspect that I might have to get myself at least one pair of little black slip-ons.

Man, it's hard to behave in this city.

Shopping Therapy

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Being the lovely wifey that I am, I did not make my husband go autumn/winter clothes shopping with me yesterday. He dropped me off at the shopping centre, and picked me up when I was done, a couple of hours later.

These are the sorts of things that nice people do. Obliging ones husband to go wih them to - oh... let's pull a random example out of the air - a football game, for example, is just inconsiderate.

I have learned from my elders (hail and sleet blowing at gale force into our faces and pouring down our necks and along the backs of the seats to pool under our ever freezing butts, not to mention the water splashing up our legs, in fact I think the frostbite is finally starting to thaw out in my toes at last..), and do not wish to put my husband through any unnecessary trauma.

That is all I have to say about that subject. Moving right along ...

You can't hold it in forever


In an attempt to be nice and kind to the environment, a couple of weeks ago I bought some organic litter.

Symphony has revolted against this litter in a manner I cannot believe possible in such a tiny little cat.

She was getting cranky after only 4 or 5 days of this litter being in her box. I was cleaning out the bits and pieces on a daily basis, as I normally do, but one afternoon she started yowling and sprinting around the apartment as if her tail was on fire. Eventually I caught her PEEING in a bag in the bedroom!

This! From a neatnik of a cat who - if she has to vomit - vomits in her litter box or in the bathtub.


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Just discovered that Neopets plushies are going into McDonalds Happy Meals in Australia. They've done their thang in the US, now they're trying it in Oz.

I may have to pull some serious strings and do some puppydog eyes (and possibly hand over large fistfuls of cash), but dangnabbit I'm going to get my hands on some of those plushies.

The only problem is that there are 109 teensy weensy Neopets plushies in all. If you could buy them all straight out, I'd pass the money over to my mother and tell her to get her butt into McDonalds as soon as the promotion starts and buy them all. But they don't. Shoot. How am I going to work this. Need a plan. NEED A PLAN.



These trucks can idle for up to 15 minutes in the tiny streets in our corner of the city, as the delivery men pass out their goods and chat to the various restaurant owners. The tooting of the traffic behind them generally starts after about 2 minutes of waiting - thankfully, other than the delivery trucks, only a few cars chance these narrow, cobbled streets.

We lay bets on how soon it will be before other trucks start tooting their horns for the delivery trucks to move.

Tuned in

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Someone in the street is whistling "Bolero". This has been going on for about 20 minutes. It's catching too - my boss just started humming it.

At least it's giving me a giggle and it's better than those crazy accordion players. At this time of the morning, we usually hear Turkish music booming out from the delivery trucks making their rounds to all the restaurants in this area...

... oops, there we go. A tiny truck turns the corner and moves slowly down our street - Indian music is cranked up to Maximum, overpowering the "Bolero", the truck shivers to a stop, and the driver jumps out to make his deliveries.

I love this quartier.

Real tv

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There is a new "reality" television series on at the moment called, "The Boarding House". In a nutshell, a bunch of 14/15 year old kids are put into a Boarding House in the style of the 1950s. They're made to study, eat and behave as they did back then, and it's quite strict.

I'm sure the kids been chosen because of their behavioural problems, because they're constantly cheeky and mouthing off at the teachers in a way that would never have occurred to me when I was their age.

I'm finding the whole thing pretty funny. These kids are a bunch of idiots who can't live without their mobile phones, shower gel, leg razors, hair spray and pushup bras.

But on another level it's bringing back quite a lot of memories from when I was at Boarding School. It was only 8 years ago that I was there, and I still have quite a few habits that reflect the way I act today.

Some like it hot

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A comment left on another blog the other day has had me thinking for days. The commenter asked the question : what are the staple ingredients that you have in your cupboards?

Herbs and spices are really the most important things in my cupboards - they're the magical ingredients that can really change a meal, depending on the combination.


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I'm determined to make an effort very soon, to get to the American Library in Paris and join up. There is a British and Commonwealth Women's library here, but it's harder for me to get to, the hours are shorter and they have less books, so I think I'm definitely going to be joining the American one. It costs quite a bit to join, but it's probably worthwhile, given how many books I buy.

If I can buy less and read more, I'll be a very happy chicken. Not to mention that I might get the chance to meet some more like-minded people here. Perhaps even a Scrabble player or two!

Cheese, please!

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I am now an official acquaintance of the cheese man at my local Monoprix ("oh, what a lovely accent you have, young lady! what? they have cheese in Australia? Well, I never!").

He gives me fresh Ricotta and Feta (this is my new true love). He also has a big roll of cheddar on one of his shelves (it's real yellow, not orange!), and agrees with me that nothing melts in the oven like cheddar.

Now I just have to find a nice salsa recipe, perfect the technique for turning creme fraiche into sour cream, and Nachos will be my friends.

Why the heck am I thinking about Nachos before 9 in the morning? I must be sick. We always want what we can't have.

Dead budge

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This morning I passed a bunch of kids crowded around a dead pigeon on the footpath. They were exclaiming and pointing and jumping around. A parent responsible for accompanying them to school soon caught up, and shooed them off, saying, "that's disgusting".

Another couple of kids came along shortly afterwards, and as I turned around the corner, I heard them shouting, "look! a dead bird! come here and look!"

I'm sure that another admonishing parent was hot on their tail.

Funny, the things kids focus on.

You scream, I scream


It's SO hot on the train tonight that I can barely breathe. It's stifling, stuffy, the air is so heavy. Everyone looks cranky, out of sorts.

I hate these sorts of days - I hope the weather breaks soon.

I managed to stave off the craving for Italian ice cream this afternoon by chewing on ice. A poor second, but cooling.

We had an "ap?ro" today before lunch, to celebrate the birthdays at our office that we've had in the last few months. No one thought to put the white wine in the fridge beforehand, so we were stuck with warm white wine - a crime in this country.

Thankfully the brasserie across the road that the "men" regularly eat lunch at was gracious enough to give us some ice, which chilled the white wine beautifully. The leftover ice got stuck in the fridge afterwards, to melt slowly. So I spent the afternoon making trips to the fridge and back, crunching on ice, trying to resist the urge to go downstairs and get some ice cream.

I'm the sort of girl for whom any weather is Ice Cream Weather, but why is it that when it's so hot, ones thoughts immediately turn to ice cream?

My train of thought at work this afternoon was like :
"open the image"
"stracciatella and mint"
"transform image into CMJN"
"caramel and cappucino - mmm, I love it when they put the coffee beans in their ice cream"
"resize the image"
"perhaps a sorbet"

Fungal problems

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Sylvain's father came to Paris for the day, and gave me a Tupperware container full of mushrooms for Sylvain. They're big, and I'm sure they're smelly. I don't dare open the lid for fear of the olfactory assault.

Sylvain's going to love them, but I can't bear the thought of the way the apartment is going to smell when he cooks them. There are very few smells that are worse than cooked mushroom, in my opinion.

I'm going to have to lock the cat in the bedroom and open all the windows whilst the cooking operation is going on.

Perhaps I can convince him to put them in a salad or something. Anything to avoid that nauseating smell.

Heat and remedies


It's been unusally warm here in Paris for the last few days - a late summer, perhaps, given how ordinary August was.

We were attacked again by mosquitos last night. I had two itchy-bites on my legs and a great big one on my butt. At 2.30am, Sylvain and Symphony stalked and squashed the rogue mozzies in the bedroom, so I mixed up a blend of lavendar, geranium and peppermint oil. I spotted it on my wrists, elbows, ankles, behind my knees - any spot that seemed vulnerable to those damn mosquitos. Sylvain got bitten again a couple of times, but I survived the rest of the night with only my initial battle wounds. I was very impressed with that insect repellant blend, it worked like a charm.

Chuck another shrimp on the barbie

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A mix of fresh chilli, lime juice, garlic, olive oil and white rum makes an exceptional marinade for prawns to be grilled on the barbecue. Accompanied by a fresh salad and ... *drools*

1, 2, 3

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I am very bad with phone numbers. It's taken me more than two and a half years to remember my mobile number, so given that we've only had it for six months, I've still got at least another two years before I'll be able to remember our home phone number.

I had to email my aunt our home number, so that she could pass it on to my cousin, who wanted to call me when she arrived in Paris. I looked it up in my annuaire and sent it off to her.

Fiona told me today that she called the number last night, and a lady answered. When she asked for me, there was a shuffling on the phone and a gentleman responded in stilted English, and said "Katia? Ohhh, bien s?r! Of course!" and made her write down our home phone number, my mobile, Sylvains mobile.

Repeat after me


I caught up with my cousin today, and we had lunch, along with her godmother, her dance teacher and the dance teachers daughter. It was wonderful to be surrounded in English like that (it reminds me that I have to make an effort to find some more English speakers here), although I found it really hard to control my tongue as her dance teacher kept doing her finishing-the-ends-of-my-sentences trick. At least it was only for an hour and I was able to behave myelf. heh.

My cousin is thrilled (or as thrilled as a sixteen-year-old girl will show) to be stepping into this big adventure. I told her we'd definitely be making the trip to see her when we could, and she seemed genuinely pleased. I think her parents have organised some friends-of-friends to take care of her on weekends when she starts to get homesick and wants to get out of the Boarding House, but they're all her parents age or older, so the fun level just isn't quite the same. Hopefully her parents will be able to let her visit us on occasion, and we'll get ourselves organised to visit her as well.

Say what ?


Katia, at her desk, is tired, sleepy, headachey, cranky and thirsty. The words come out of her mouth, without her thinking, "Je suis d?shydr?".

The three other people in the room whip their heads around, all at the same time, exclaiming, "d?shydrat?e!"

Man, I know they're trying to help, but there's nothing like kicking a dog when it's down.

Given our lack of sleep this weekend, we tried sleeping in until 8am this morning. Normally I'm out the door at 8:10am, so I was making a conscious decision to be late (unusual for me, as normally I'm anally early). I did, however manage to get out of the door at 8:22am, although I'm sure that my makeup is shoddy and my hair is a mess and I look as if I've had virtually no sleep in the last 72 hours. At least I'm only going to be a couple of minutes late.

Given our lack of sleep this weekend, we tried sleeping in until 8am this morning. N a horrible way to be waken up.

Blood ties

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My 16 year old cousin is coming from Australia to study ballet in England. Big trip for a teenager. She's stopping in Paris for a day or two to stay with her old ballet teacher, and I'll have lunch with her tomorrow. Should be nice.

I can't even imagine what it would be like for her. A big, exciting adventure, sure. But at 16? A very big step.

At least it gives us an excuse to make some day trips to England!

Blood ties

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My 16 year old cousin is coming from Australia to study ballet in England. Big trip for a teenager. She's stopping in Paris for a day or two to stay with her old ballet teacher, and I'll have lunch with her tomorrow. Should be nice.

I can't even imagine what it would be like for her. A big, exciting adventure, sure. But at 16? A very big step.

At least it gives us an excuse to make some day trips to England!

Super streak

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On Friday I got my hair cut. It's been 8 months since my last cut - gee, I'd forgotten how good it feels to get my hair washed and treated and cut. Considering I have a full time job, I'm going to get it done every couple of months now - perhaps next time I'll get the blonde streaks redone and pretend to everyone that I've been spending copious amounts of time in the sun. Of course, my pale skin which is normally only used to basking in the glow of my computer screen contradicts this, but who's arguing?

Super streak

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On Friday I got my hair cut. It's been 8 months since my last cut - gee, I'd forgotten how good it feels to get my hair washed and treated and cut. Considering I have a full time job, I'm going to get it done every couple of months now - perhaps next time I'll get the blonde streaks redone and pretend to everyone that I've been spending copious amounts of time in the sun. Of course, my pale skin which is normally only used to basking in the glow of my computer screen contradicts this, but who's arguing?

Wee willy winky

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I'm surprised I managed to get even one wink of sleep this weekend.

We sleep with the outside blind rolled down tightly, but with the window open - this lets the night air into our otherwise stuffy apartment, without letting the cat out ;)

Friday night the phone kept ringing at bizarre hours. It would ring once or twice then stop, so we were rudely jolted out of our sleep all night.

Saturday night we were regaled with opera singing. Someone in the quartier had a powerful stereo on - the sound was so loud that the cats fur was standing on end. Sylvain wouldn't let me call the police, and apparently no one else was being a good citizen and didn't call the police either. Their apartment was quite a distance away from ours, and it was still loud, so I don't get it - surely the people above/below/beside them were getting their ears blasted out. We were thankful when they turned the music off at around 2am.

Last night we were invaded by a rogue mosquito pack and an unusual night heat. I woke up to find myself covered in bites, belatedly closed the window, put a wet facewasher on my forehead and both of us drifted in and out of sleep, scratching intermittently and tossing and turning. I spent the majority of the night waving away the last few mosquitos that were buzzing in my ears and trying to resist the urge to scratch.

This is not a good start to what is going to be a very busy week.

Make it a better place


There is a homeless man who sometimes hangs out at the station near my work. He sits at the top of the stairs, reading a newspaper, with a puppy, a cat and three kittens around him, all on leashes.

It seems that the man takes good care of them. They're clean, with shiny fur and fat tummies. He has a special basket for them to curl up in. He growls at little children who lean down to pat them - perhaps not the best strategy for getting donations, but perhaps to protect the welfare of his little friends.


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Some lady is painting her nails on the train. Man, that stinks. I wonder how she can do it accurately with all the stopping and starting, jostling and bumping of the train.

First days

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It's the first week back at school for lots of little chiddlers. Some schools here started on Monday, some start today.

I walk past a primary school on my way to the station in the morning, at "drop off time". There were lots of teary kids there today, and a couple of teary parents.

I remember parts of my very first day at school quite clearly. I walked into the classroom, and with relief, I spotted two kids I knew from my kindergarten class playing with some toys. I raced over to them and, I think, all was well from there.


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It only takes about half an hour at work for my hands, arms and shirt to be covered entirely in highlighter marks and ink stains. Today it's really multi-coloured, and I have lovely pink and yellow highlighter marks on the inside of my arms, and an occasional ink stain around my fingers. As the day goes by there will be more layers added to the mix.

I don't know how it happens. I am using highlighters and markers all the time in my work, and I do put the lids back on, but I just end up getting stuff all over me.

Pure class, I am.


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This page is an archive of entries from September 2004 listed from newest to oldest.

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