Can't I have just a little more time?

This was one of my Christmas presents. And a very nice one at that.

Yet, there's nothing like one of these "definitive" volumes to make me realize what a pathetic excuse for a cultivated person I am.

I don't even want to talk about the 1001 Books edition, which I gave my husband for his birthday so he could see what a pathetic excuse...etc.

At least that volume took a more positive tack to its title translation: the French version is entitled "1001 Books You Must Read in your Lifetime." But the translation of the film volume title take on the morbidity of the original: 1001 MOVIES to see before you die.

The hour is grave. Fortunately I got one of the movies from the book as a Christmas present.

I've got to start somewhere! The alternative is too terrifying to even think about...

Christmas "news"

A December 25th UPI article entitled "Wild boars run amok in France" also featured a side photo of "the 2nd annual water-skiing Santa in Washington."

Rarely do both of my home countries benefit from such ground-breaking media coverage on the same Web page.

Personally, I'd prefer meeting up with the water-skiing Santa to having a run-in with the wild boar who "disrupted last-minute Christmas shopping in Poitiers, France."

How about you?

(Photo courtesy of waterskiingsanta.com)

Merry Christmas to all...

...whether you be in the sun or in the snow!

If Only in My Dreams

For this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt, "Holiday Memories," I'm going to be most annoying and do a rare post in French.

This article originally appeared in a local newspaper, Le Rouergat, which I wrote a column for in 2004 and 2005. The little weekly unfortunately shut down, so I hope there are no copyright issues involved in my republishing this article.

I suppose I should translate it into English, but I worked so hard to write it in French that I prefer to post the version originale. The general subject is how hard it can be to be so far from home for the holidays, and especially how difficult my first Christmas in France was.

Do tell me if any of you can understand it!


Les quinze années que j’ai passées en France sont jalonnées d’excellents souvenirs, pour la plupart. Quelques-uns restent, malgré tout, moins agréables. Parmi ceux-là je pourrais citer mon premier Noël français, en 1990. L’éloignement de ma famille en fut la cause principale, mais de petites différences culturelles amplifiaient quotidiennement ma tristesse. Il s’agissait pourtant de la même fête, mais les maisons manquaient d’illuminations, personne ne venait frapper à ma porte pour m’apporter des gâteaux de Noël... toutes ces petites choses constituaient pour moi le « Christmas spirit », avec notamment son enthousiasme et sa chaleur humaine propres à Noël. Expression dont on me dit qu’elle ne se traduisait pas en français.

Pour combler le vide, je passais des chansons de Noël en boucle. Bing Crosby qui entonnait « White Christmas » ou bien « I’ll be home for Christmas »… Parfois cela me remontait le moral. A d’autres moments, cela me réduisait en larmes.

Le froid, du moins, avait répondu présent pendant cet hiver albigeois. Gelée, j’arpentais les rues piétonnes en quête d’objets décoratifs pour égayer notre foyer. Je n’ai trouvé qu’un petit ensemble d’oies en bois peint…100 francs. Je l’ai acheté en dépit du prix que je trouvais exorbitant.

Avec le temps, et mon premier enfant, la situation s’est vite améliorée. Petit à petit, j’ai importé mes traditions à ma famille. Les cartes de vœux se font pour le Nouvel An ? Tant pis, je les faisais pour Noël. Et qui m’interdisait de faire mes « Christmas Cookies » et de les distribuer dans le quartier ? Personne, évidemment, et cela faisait très plaisir aux voisins !

Arrivée en Aveyron, j’ai fait la connaissance d’un groupe de collègues anglophones qui m’invitaient bien sûr à leur « Christmas Party », joyeuse fête où nous chantions à tue-tête des « Christmas Carols », devant des époux quelque peu perplexes.

Mon expérience personnelle m’a appris que Noël transcende bien sûr les différences culturelles, mais surtout que c’est à chacun de faire perdurer les traditions auxquelles il tient, et d’en créer d’autres. Désormais quand on me demande si je rentre « chez moi » pour Noël, je réponds sans hésitation : « Non, jamais, je n’aimerais pas rater Noël ici avec ma famille, et puis il fait un temps de chien en hiver là-bas! » Nous changeons vite de sujet et nous nous souhaitons de joyeuses fêtes, « Merry Christmas », j’ajoute parfois. Mais malgré la maison pleine à craquer de décorations, malgré la présence de mes enfants, malgré toute la joie que la saison m’apporte, je sais que je ressentirai toujours un petit vide le 25 décembre.

So I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.

Silent Night, Drunken Night?

According to the Daily Telegraph, many British churches will be starting midnight mass on the early side to avoid problems with tipsy worshippers.

Journalist Jonathan Petre reveals that some priests are starting "midnight" mass as early as 6pm out of fear for their parishioners' safety.

"In Newcastle Upon Tyne, the Cathedral of St Mary in the heart of the city’s entertainment district, is holding its Christmas Eve Mass at 8pm because of fears of drunken louts disrupting the service," writes Petre.

Leave it to the Brits to discover the true meaning of Christmas!

Put on Your Dancing Shoes; Stop Wasting Time

Shall we dance, or keep on moping?

Shall we dance and walk on air?

Shall we give in to despair? Or shall we dance with never a care?

Life is short. We're growing older.

Don't you be an also ran.

You've got to dance, little lady. Dance, little man.

Dance whenever you can.

(Extract from "Shall We Dance" by George and Ira Gershwin)

(Photo courtesy of Thierry Jouanneteau)

Click here for more Sunday dances courtesy of Sunday Scribblings.

The Glamorous World of Freelance Writing

On this cold and dreary Sunday, all I feel like doing is reading and/or floating around the blogosphere.

But I have an educational article due for a publishing company in Taiwan. So I must tackle the fascinating subject of Pulitzer Prize categories, carefully adjusting the vocabulary level to that of a Taiwanese senior high school student.

That's today's glimpse into the glamorous world of freelance writing...

Walking off the Train: The Road Not Taken

" I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference."

For other Sunday Scribblings posts on the theme of "Walk," click here.

Friday's Feast 1

I haven't posted here in a long time. The past weeks have been so work-filled that I can't come up with anything hugely imaginative, but did feel like reviving And So Forth with a post.

What could be better than Friday's Feast to get back on track? I've subscribed to their prompts on Google Reader for weeks, but never seem to get around to looking at them until Saturday.

Appetizer: What is your favorite carnival/amusement park ride?

Huge, old-fashioned carousels.

Soup:How do you react in uncomfortable social situations?

I usually stay in the background, but am capable of intervening directly if I feel the discomfrot stems from somthing really important.

Salad: On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how much do you enjoy discussing deep, philosophical topics?

Three. I got annoyed with "heavy, deep and real" conversations back in high school and haven't gotten over it yet.

Main Course: Did you get a flu shot this year? If not, do you plan to?

No. No. Is this really the main course?

Dessert: Approximately how many hours per week do you spend watching television?

Zero. We don't have a television connection, just a TV set to watch videos and DVDs.

That was fun! See you again one of these days...

So British?

I just love having access to the British press on Internet.

Between reading the news on the BBC and getting in-depth information from the Guardian, I can also run into pearls like this.

Dylan's Best?

I have been trying all day to listen straight through Blood on the Tracks without too many interruptions. It's 7:30 PM and I'm practically halfway into "Shelter from the Storm," so I think I'm finally going to make it.

If not, I think I can do without "Buckets of Rain." It's one of the two songs on the album that doesn't do it for me, along with "Meet Me in the Morning."

Those two songs aside, though, I don't think I will ever tire of this album. Sometimes I think it's Bob Dylan's best. And I have to disagree with Jon Landau when he wrote in 1975:

"Blood on the Tracks will only sound like a great album for a while. Like most of Dylan, it is impermanent."

So why does it ring so true 32 years later?

Hilarity from Iowa

My impression of Iowa just went way up...

Ten Songs That Bring Back Memories (and why...)

I get notifications for Ten on Tuesday, and it always sounds like a good idea at the time. But putting together a list of ten of anything ends up being quite a challenge.

I might be better at a blogging event called "Four if I frickin' feel like it."

I had to do this subject, though: "Ten Songs That Bring Back Memories (and why...)"

In a somewhat chronological order:

1. I Want to Hold Your Hand: This could be one of my earliest musical memories. Thanks to my mom, I met the Beatles.

2. Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondelles: This was the first record I could call my very own. Naturally, I listened to it...over and over...

3. The Flintstones Theme Song: At some point in my early childhood, my parents only had black and white TV. But my grandparents, who lived across town, had COLOR TV! My great folks used to drive my sister and me over there, mid-week, to watch our favorite cartoon, which I loved all the more because it had a character named Betty. For some reason, the show was on in the evening, so we were usually put in our jammies before we left. A memory right out of history...

4. Crocodile Rock: This song was covered a lot by bands at the junior high dances I went to. I have good memories of hopping and bopping to it.

5. Stairway to Heaven: This song was also covered by a lot of bands at the aforementioned junior high dances, usually as the last "slow dance." I have bad memories of lurking on the sidelines while it was playing.

6. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac: No comment.

7. It's the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine) by R.E.M.: When I was a high school debate coach in Olympia, my students introduced me to R.E.M.. Later, the word got out that "It's the End..." was actually about debate tournaments. Were we ever excited! I remember spending hours with my debate students analyzing the lyrics (which we had to transcribe...no Internet, remember?) to try to prove our theory. A debatable theory which is now all over online R.E.M. forums, of course.

8. Life During Wartime by the Talking Heads: My strongest memories of this song postdate its release by many years; I listened to it obsessively during the first weeks of the current Iraq war. "This ain't no party, this ain't no disco..." It sure ain't.

9. Let Down by Radiohead: The first time I heard this song, I listened to it about twenty times straight. A chemical reaction, I guess.

10: Unchained Melody: Undefined memories.

Sunday Morning Grace

Just because I want this song on my blog. No other reason.

Temperature change: a burning issue?

First, I'm going to play Miss Smarty-pants and point out that I speak both Celsius and Fahrenheit, although I'm not absolutely sure I'm spelling them right.

Apparently some Americans, however, are quite worked up about certain US weather reports' including Celsius temperatures.

Maybe they have a point...which, by the way, would be a comma if a malevolent world government forced everybody to read temperatures in French.

This could be a slippery slope situation. First Celsius, then kilometers, then kilometres...where would it end?

Holding our silverware European-style, being required to learn a foreign language, having a decent health care system?

Some changes just scream out "danger."

(Photo extracted from a site that looked like it was called Physical Science , and as such was definitely not going to be bookmarked by this blogger!

But it turns out that "Physical Science" is part of Learner.org, a pretty spiffy-looking site for teachers. Just what I need! Another bookmark!)

Coming soon...

What could be better than a musical -- given the subject matter, I won't say "musical comedy" -- starring Johnny Depp? These are truly a few of my favorite things...

Fun stuff abounds...

I tend to use the Internet for relatively serious purposes. Listening to music and keeping up with my blogs are about as fun as it gets -- and even those activities often carry some work-oriented or educational connotation. Listening to Radio Paradise or Sur La Route, I feel good about improving my musical culture. And who knows -- maybe I'll run into a song I can use in class.

Then there's blogging -- I try to be relaxed about it, especially on And So Forth. But the fact that I am a "slightly-published" writer is never far from my mind. Whatever I post is out there for anybody and everybody to peruse: a rather daunting concept.

So with all this latent seriousness lurking behind each blog post, it's a pleasure to dive into a fun, silly subject: cereal boxes.

Did you know there is a whole virtual world out there devoted to the packaging of our daily childhood breakfast food?

Topher's Breakfast Cereal Guide focuses on cereal-box characters. Do you remember Count Chocula? I do now, but he sure hadn't crossed my mind for a few years. (OK, let's say for about thirty.)

If Topher's doesn't pour out enough grainy information for you, there's The Boxtop, a "seasonal cereal net newsletter written for cereal enthusiasts."

Yes, readers, this is the type of thing you can find when you spend a bit too much time on the Internet, as I am doing this morning.

Sorry, I've got to wrap up this post. I promised my daughter I'd make her something for breakfast...

Sunday Scribblings: My Dream Job

My dream job is intellectual, yet involves a lot of contact with people.

My dream job is extremely creative, yet not artistic.

My dream job involves speaking in public and has a certain performance aspect to it, but includes some special quiet time too.

My dream job is objective-driven. One must constantly strive for success -- but not the financial kind.

My dream job changes constantly: with the years, with the time of day, and with the seasons.

I have been working at my dream job for 25 years now. Not all of my friends and acquaintances were pleased with my choice.

"We always thought you'd make something out of yourself, Betty," announced a high school friend when she found out what I was doing. (Ironically, after a number of years in various sales positions, she is now doing the same job as I am. I guess she got tired of making something out of herself.)

My dream job is my current job, and it was my first "career" job. If--and only if -- I can keep my energy up, it will be my last.

I am a teacher.

(This post was inspired by the Sunday Scribblings subject of "First Job, Worst Job, Dream Job." I'm sure this will be a really interesting scribble, so click by and take a look at the other posts.

The Death of a Blog

As some of you may remember, last summer I started a new blog on Typepad. I was intrigued by the subject -- the title of the blog was "My European Scrapblog." I had hoped to write up all sorts of news and cultural snippets related to Europe.

I still think I have a good concept here, but I just don't have the time to keep up with it.

So I killed "My European Scrapblog." Since it was on Typepad and I was paying good money for it to sit there, I actually had to send it to blog heaven.

No regrets. I'm really getting into writing for La France Profonde at the moment, and am even starting some historical research into the Aveyron department to beef up that blog's content.

One thing I've learned about blogging is that it's all about change...

A Few Words About Reading

What a nice surprise! Matthew of Common Misadventures tagged me for an interesting meme about reading. Then, of course, I put off writing it for a few weeks because it actually took some thinking. But here goes...

My Reading: I used to be a voracious reader. When I was in high school, I read at least a book a week. I devoured as many of the classics as I could get my hands on, including things I would never read now (like Dostoevsky!) Despite thoughts of majoring in history or political science in college, I ended up majoring in English Lit -- so plenty more reading ensued.

Once I got out into the working world, though, I turned away from the classics. I pick one up occasionally, but I really prefer to read high-quality but easily readable recent fiction.

Although I read French fluently, I don't read in French that often. I think reading is a good way for me to keep in touch with my native language, and I also find much current French fiction soupy and too self-consciously intellectual. I will make an exception for one of the five books on my list below, though. I also know that I have just made a sweeping generalization, and anyone who wants to suggest a list of great recent French novels to read can feel free to do so!

Total number of books owned: Probably several hundred, but I don't buy all that many books -- other than cookbooks, which are a guilty pleasure! I had quite a collection of classics sitting back home in the USA but got rid of them a few summers ago.

Last book read and bought: The last book I read was Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. I enjoyed the cultural observations, but had to skim over the endless details about house renovation.

The last book I bought was The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami -- but I haven't read it yet.

Five meaningful books: Not necessarily favorites, just books that have meant a lot to me and that come to mind...

Les Jeux Sont Faits by Jean-Paul Sartre

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

Ensemble, C'est Tout by Anna Gavalda

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingslover

Now for who to tag -- how about the last three people who have commented on And So Forth?

That would be Rachelle, Christina and Katie...