Valentine's Day, mode d'emploi

You all know that I've hated Valentine's Day for quite some years now. Anyone else remember International Matt and Gina are Cool Day? Yeah, I thought so. Of course it was official- we had shirts and everything. God, I miss those shirts, especially the ghetto puffy painted ones. Anyways, store windows here are still filled with gooey red and pink things and I wanted to throw rocks at them, but I resisted. The commercial aspect of the day ultimately bothers me, as it always has. But still, major progress was made in the non-hating of the day. I've created a handy bulleted list for everyone to chart interesting things that happened.
*The entire day is made better if both you and boyfriend are sick, especially if he has told you that you'll be walking up the hill to Fourviere. (How much did I not want to leave my house? If it was socially acceptable I would have worn my pyjamas).
*I can make it up to Fourviere even when sick and tired, with only minor obnoxious interjections. (me- "We're taking the long way, aren't we? Why did we just pass les minimes?" )
*Alex has an insane ability to a) surprise me (example one- tell me we're going to someone's party and then take me out to dinner instead and not believe that I fell for it. ultimate example two- come back to Lyon on Christmas day to see me and trick me into going home so that he could surprise me) and b) remember things I've mentioned once, a long time ago (i.e. that I loved Indian food but never ate it in France).
*Glitter is still great for making cards.
ps- the view from Fourviere is, indeed, lovely at night.

Last night Alex also assured me that his parents will not kill me in my sleep, which has been a big fear of mine for the 3 weeks I've had to freak out about the upcoming visit. And by upcoming I mean we leave Friday. For someone who's never had to deal with meeting a significant other's family, a week seems like a long, scary time. In the middle of France! Awww shit. Who knows how internet will be, so you probably won't hear from me for a while. If it's two weeks, assume that my worst fears were realized.

ps- Did I ever even mention that I've been with this guy for almost 3 months? Whoops. I love you all anyway.

Bisous from the Centre Oregon

Did you know that in France Valentine's Day is only for lovers, and that they've never heard of sending sparkly, glittery, overly-bright cut-along-the-edges cards to friends or classmates? Why France, why? During the aforementioned "craft apres-midi" I mentioned that I had thought about making cards for the entire Centre Oregon, but then realized that I didn't have that much patience. An hour later Mandee showed up and said "Why don't we make cards for the entire Centre?" And thus the Valentine bisous were born. And seriously, getting to work on Monday morning and telling Laurie that I would be spending the morning doing a kindergarten-esque craft that would count as work time was AWESOME. Plus, we got to use the glitter gell (applied with paint brushes). The idea for the cards came from Katie C., who once handed me a handful of Hershey's Kisses and said "Bisous!" (bisou means kiss in French). I probably responded with "It's funny cause it's true!" and giggled a lot. But still, how clever was that? Anyway, after a lot of cutting we finally got to the point of the activity- playing with glitter. And let me tell you, it was one of the highlights of my week, if not year (sort of, I'll tell you about better highlights later). Besides the fact that my desk is now covered in glitter and that the two of us had a fair dusting on ourselves... Wait, besides what? I'm not going to lie- it was awesome. It made me want to play with glitter everyday. Maybe twice a day. It made me miss Delta Psi door decs and the chapter room, and kindergarten. In that order? After decided against giving some to French people associated with our program who might not understand the tradition and who might not appreciate a glitter and marker covered wonder (people at the bank, mailroom friends, important people at Lyon 2, etc etc), we did at least get some to the good people at the Centre Pennsylvanie and the Centre Californie (and, of course, all of my kiddos at the Centre). Bisous!

ps- In the top picture you can see part of my desk, with Mandee waiting for the glitter to dry and observing Katie and a mostly-hidden Susan, clearly Facebook-stalking someone. Sadly, this is a daily occurence in the Centre. That and friending my little brother. I will NEVER be on Facebook. Never!

Tomorrow afternoon has become a designated "apres midi de craft" chez moi. I'm thinking making cards, I'm thinking glitter, I'm thinking doilies, I'm thinking me and Maria making a quiche. Oh, and glue. Liquid glue for the glitter. This has all the makings of some sort of Delta Psi activity, except for the quiche and the being in France part.

e, dahling, the capelet thing? Was a joke. And really, capelets should be a part of everyone's wardrobe. They're simply little capes, often knitted or made out of wool. I swear I don't look like some sort of cracked-out superhero when I wear it. Well, at least a really fashionable cracked-out superhero.

Everyone, send me your addresses. Surprises may be coming in the mail. But remember that I'm far away, so they'll take a while. Plus it's me, and I'm totally late with everything. Don't you know that by now?

Because of some iPod trauma, Babak (one of the students) had to put a large portion of his music collection on my computer for a while. Of course I took some. But this is that good part of taking other people's things, because it's memory music. Last night the Jack Johnson so strongly convinced me that I was back on 2nd Johnson senior semester that I started to cry missing everyone so much. But I like Jack too much to turn it off, so I tempered it down with some high-school-senior-year-esque Beastie Boys, Intergallactic, to be precise. That made it better, but still, e? Save me a cup of coffee cause I'll come back sometime.

Best. Chandelier. Ever.

One fateful day last week I was sitting in the Centre Oregon when one of the kiddos declared "It's crepe eating day!" I was pretty sure that every day could be crepe eating day, but Jean swore up and down that it had been announced on the news that morning (seeing as how I have no tv, I could not confirm or deny this). Turns out that it was Chandeleur, which is in fact traditionally celebrated by eating crepes (all inquiries into what this holiday actually celebrates have turned up empty, and really, I'm too lazy to google it). If this didn't call for a crepe party chez moi, I don't know what would. We shopped, we whisked, we creped it up for hours. I managed to flip a few that neither a- hit the ceiling nor b- fell on the floor. Maria and I also worked our way through 3 bottles of cidre and started eating Nutella out of the jar with spoons. What else is Nutella for, mes amis? After so many crepes and so many hours, the end was a bit loopy, with me insisting on calling it chandelier (like what you hang from a ceiling), Maria wearing MY frilly pink and green apron, and Mandy asking Alex if his twin sister was his identical twin. Sure.

Because of my sporadic presence lately (umm, monthly?), I have been left with a mountain of things to talk about. This type of problem has many solutions, but really, what's a girl to do in this situation but start with the most important? So yes, what you've heard is true (e I KNOW you're the one who spilled it)- I have finally been able to integrate my new capelet into my wardrobe. It was a tough journey, and I'm not afraid to tell you that there were tears shed. But I've made it through, and sit here in the Centre Oregon with this lovely black knitted wonder over my shoulders (actually, shoulder, as it appears to have slipped over. Just a sec). This segues nicely into me telling you that I've recently begun stepping out in things that would just not be ok in the States, but are fine in France. The parade of crazy tights has begun, and do you know what? It's fine and dandy here. People wear things like this! I wish I had photos so that I could prove this, but alas, there are none. Tant pis pour vous. And today? I am wearing my jeans in my boots. Because people do. I feel slightly silly, so only time will tell if this happens again.

Also, my hair is growing out and I'm faced with the question- same coiffeur or new one? And what do I do about this color? For reasons I'll deal with later, starting next Friday I can't have crazy hair, and I have a perpetual fear that if I go to the coiffeur before then I'll leave with something even more bright than this time. I need to appear at least mostly normal for about a week, mes amis. What is a girl to do?

The Centre Oregon is currently a breeding ground for student problems, as 2nd semesters start at universities all over Lyon. I'd like to think that my advice is at least somewhat helpful. Chevreul continues to rock my world, including students now running around saying "No shit Sherlock" after my "how to talk like an American aka how to talk like Gina" lesson. Ha.

Food-wise, cooking continues to be like crack for me. I just can't stop. Can't stop. There's food everywhere. I even made a fucking roast on Sunday night. A roast. What has gotten into me? But sadly, there was a chocolate chip cookie disaster as my mini-four DESTROYED an entire batch. Way to go mini-four francais. But it was sort of satisfying to smash apart a chocolate bar with a knife handle.

I'll leave you with a snippet of a conversation from Monday night at the Palais de Sourires (The Smile Palace! what a name for a Chinese restaurant)-
Mandy- I mean, if you like prison. Wasn't Saint Valentine in a prison cell with a telescope?
Maria- That was Galileo.

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A cookie to the person who can fix my comments section. Or two cookies. Or a whole damn cake. That's how much I want my comments back. WHY ARE YOU BROKEN COMMENTS???? Don't you want my friends to leave love notes?