Au revoir à jamais
June 2, 2009Oh, my friends who live inside the computer, Scott and I are leaving tomorrow for Paris. It’s our tenth anniversary on Friday, and it was my 40th birthday last week, and since we sold our house we had some cash lying around (technically not lying around; we used it as padding for Charlie’s dog bed). So we thought, why aren’t we going to Paris? What kind of jerks are we?
So Henry’s going to hang out with the grandparents while we cavort and gambol around Paris for six days, and I should be ridiculously excited. Except now that we’re getting ready, I’m pretty we’re going to die. I don’t deserve a nice vacation and therefore the Lord will smite us. Obviously. Here’s what’s going to happen, in no particular order:
The plane will crash and we will all die
The French will hate us and we will all die
Having forgotten the four years of French I took in high school (Je suis désolée, Madame Goldenberg!) I will be unable to obtain for us food or beverages, and death will ensue
We’ll forget to do anything and we'll sit in our hotel room crying (and subsequently die of shame)
The United States will blow up because I wasn’t here to keep things non-blow-uppy
Henry will be sad and lonely with his grandparents and we’ll have to come home early, and somehow we’ll die as a result of that
Something something something death
Needless to say, some of these scenarios are unlikely. Probably we will not die. I went to Paris many years ago and found the French to be largely tolerant of my crude Frenchifying. Henry loves his grandparents way more than us. We have guidebooks and the like. The plane will maybe get us there and back safely. Maybe.
I’ve been practicing some important phrases, too:
Excuse me, stewardess, please make sure there is no turbulence.
Excusez-moi, hôtesse de l'air, s'il vous plaît assurez-vous il n'y a pas de turbulence.
I thought I said no turbulence. Now I require a bucket of red wine and some horse tranquilizers.
Je pensais que je l'ai dit pas de turbulence. Maintenant, j'ai besoin d'un seau de vin rouge et quelques chevaux de tranquillisants.
Pardon me—does the United States still exist?
Excusez-moi, les États-Unis continuent d'exister?
Do not laugh at me. I have an anxiety disorder.
Ne vous moquez pas de moi. J'ai un trouble anxieux.
That man who is laughing? He is my husband. He is a monster.
Cet homme qui rit? C'est mon mari. Il est un monstre.
I go to the library. I want hamburger and fries.
Je vais à la bibliothèque. Je veux hamburger et des frites.
(I already knew that last one.)
We’ll return in a week. Please keep our planes aloft and the Earth safe with the power of your positive thinking or praying or voodoo or whatever it is you do, I really don’t care.
(And I just realized I forgot to tell you about the surprise party my husband threw for me. It was incredible. But I’m leaving now so I’m going to have to tell you about it upon our return, IF WE EVER RETURN, of course you will Alice shut up.)
Reader Comments (85)
Or with them, too, as when we went to Paris with them and I realized that if we all died (Grandma was along too) -- that was a contingency I hadn't considered. Our wills don't really extend to the obliteration of the entire nuclear family plus one. I told a couple what to do if we all died. I might even have left a note on the table at home.
But, anyway, my original point (and it's unlike me to have one) was that this is PRE-trip fear. I find that once I'm aloft and then at my destination, all those fears seem totally crazy. I'm still intact, children alive, etc. Then I can relax and enjoy myself. But until that point? Pure worry hell.
Not just any old random couple on the street or anything. In fact I think I emailed my plans for the surviving siblings and nieces and nephews to one or two people, just in case.
Vous sucez ainsi .
Avec envie,Joe
Bon Chance! I hope that means "Good Luck" in French---it's been a l-o-n-g time since I've had to pull the french from the dustbins of my brain.
Will you demonstrate typical Sunday afternoon crazy dancing to see how the French react? I feel they could not help but be as charmed by it as I am. You may not even have to translate, "Na noo, na noo, na noo!" I believe this is comprehensible by all as a universal expression of joy.
Mon cahier d'exercise il n'y a pas dans la biblioteque.
Aussi, Je m'apelle Phillipe Beaumont. J'ai quinze ans.
There. That's my French exhausted. And I'm Canadian and am supposed to be able to function in French, but quel domage! The Menopause has my brain.
Hope you have fun, have wonderful weather and enjoy each other's company immensely.
But it's okay - we had Italy for 3+ weeks in January-February and should get to Paris some day.
Have a great time.
The places I would say never to miss are Versailles (the palace, the gardens and the Petit Trianon), The Louvre obviously, and some people skip the smaller, less touristy Musee d'Orsee, but it has an awe inspiring collection of the most prominent impressionist painters. Another absolute do not miss (even if it has to be on your next trip there) Père Lachaise Cemetery--burial place of Chopin, Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt, Isadora Duncan, Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison, Gertrude Stein and many others. That place alone is so affecting and full of eerie charm that one visit there could launch a thousand pieces of writing (and a million striking photos).
I'm pretty sure you're going to have a great time. And if all else fails, drink some wine. :)
Congratulations on making to 10 and 40, and have a blast in Paris!
So we thought, why aren’t we going to Paris? What kind of jerks are we?
Alice-dude, from now on, I am totally using this as a rhetorical device to persuade me into desirable activities and indulgences:
"Why am I not eating ice cream right now? What kind of a jerk am I?"
"Why do we not go out to the posh corner restaurant all the time? What kind of jerks are we?"
and so on.
And, if it doesn't sound too much like lick-spittle fawning: Thanks. I had a rough day, and I really needed a laugh, so I came here in hope. You are a bright spot in my day.
Remember everything, for us!!!
Incidentally, you must see this:http://toadberry.blogspot.com/2009/05/electric-refrigerator-recipes-and-menus.html
"Recipes prepared especially forthe General Electric Refrigerator
By
MISS ALICE BRADLEYPrincipal of Miss Farmer's School of Cookery,Cooking Editor of Woman's Home Companion,Author of: Cooking for Profit, Candy CookBook, For Luncheon and Supper Guests"
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