FRANCE: PART 1

Here I yam in France. It's 10:17 Sunday night, and even though it's late it's still light out and the birds are going off. Being on California time I'm of course very much awake, but I hope I'll be less so at 3 o'clock in the morning. Last night jet lag hit me hard and I felt like a teenager who'd popped too much No-Doz, but I plan on thwarting that tonight by swallowing 18 mg of Melatonin in a little while.

So far everything's gone well: flying on Air Tahiti was fun (the crew did wear interesting garb, the grub, if not pork- and rum-based, was good anyway, and the decor was all blue and teal) for the most part, although none of us really slept and breastfeeding Malko was a total joke. We made it to Furren Soil without too much trouble, and actually ended up in the right country despite having walked, in LA, halfway down the gangway for a plane going to Papeete, Tahiti (I thought "Papeete" was "Paris" in Tahitian).

Besides learning that I should never again plan on breastfeeding in an airplane (three words: No. F'ing. Room.), I learned that I should invest in higher-quality deodorant, because the Trader Joe's stuff just doesn't cut it. I felt all prepared and organized pre-departure, having had flying practice with Lula and Malko just the week before, but as soon as we got into the line for security screening my adrenaline spiked; by the time we had our shoes back on, a quarter of the wipes I'd stuffed in my backpack for Malko had to be used on his mommy's soggy pits. When we landed in the Land of Freedom Fries I was coated in throw-up, crumbs, and confetti (don't ask) anyway, so a little extra dewiness beneath the wings didn't matter, but hey--it's good to at least try not to stink.

On Friday we chilled with my dad and aunt at my aunt's house in the suburbs, and on Saturday I took the kids to see some dearly missed friends in the city. We ate lunch in their garden, and it was fun despite Lula's jet-laggedness expressing itself incessantly and obnoxiously. When she began wailing and tearing up their newly-seeded grass I decided to cut the visit short; my dad drove us home in a way that was both terrifying (when in France, he drives "like a native," practically taking aim at people lingering too long in the crosswalk) and entertaining (he used creative language to describe the gay pride parade, which was blocking every street, bridge, and alleyway).

Today Joedy did not arrive as planned, due to a complicated sequence of events involving his passport, or lack thereof, so I got to sleep till noon; I spent the rest of the day hanging out with my cousin and his wife and eating butter. It was great to see the first two and the third simply rocked my world, as Le Bon Beurre Du Vieux Pays is wont to do. French butter is like, um, buttah: creamy, rich, velvety, decadent. Some ignoramuses have been known to gorge themselves, resulting in upset stomachs and lots of beurreping, but I know my limits and only eat half a stick at a sitting, which is very reasonable given that the temptation to sin is EVERYWHERE.

Tomorrow I'll drive with my dad and the kids to my parents' beach house on the southwest coast, joining my mom, who's already there, and Joedy should hopefully show up not long after. I say "hopefully" not because Joedy might, for example, forget to bring an important traveling document (for example, his passport) with him, but because when he arrives in Paris tomorrow morning he'll have to take the metro to the train station and then take two trains and a boat to get to where we'll be. When I was 17 I attempted the same journey and, getting off at a wrong stop, ended up missing the last boat of the day; after wandering around for a while and determining that all the hotels were filled up, it became clear that my only option was to sleep in a bush by the side of the road.

I could go on and on about why I don't want Joedy sleeping in a strange bush, but what it comes down to is that he's going to be in no shape for it: by tomorrow, he'll have had his share of traveling adventures, and I'm pretty sure jumping in the delicious ocean with his delightful wife (me) will be the first thing he'll want to do.