Monday, December 21, 2009

She's back! A Jennifer Story

Inspired by "We're Back! A Dinosaur's Story", which I never had the "pleasure" of viewing.

Completely related, speaking English is SO EASY. Ordering food in English? SO EASY. Talking to store employees in English? SO EASY. I mean, I found French much easier by the end than when I arrived, but still.

My arrogant pat-myself-on-the-back moment came on my flight from Ottawa to Halifax. I decided to watch Post Grad (I'm so brave to even admit that) in FRENCH. And I understood! I can tell you EXACTLY what happened up until the point the pilot decided to land the plane. Leading to... if anyone has this movie I, umm, kind of want to see the rest of it and would appreciate a loan, provided it has been released to dvd yet. I also spoke French to people on the plane, understood all, and dropped my jaw in shock over the complete ease of understanding the Canadian French accent versus the France French accent. Contrast this with my flight to France, where I muttered a few words in French ("Vin rouge, SVP. Boeuf, SVP.") and wanted to download my French-English dictionnaire into my brain. (This is surely difficult with a printed, non-electronic dictionnaire. The closest one could do would be rip the sheets out and shove them in the ear. I suspect doctors would discourage this.)

I had learned long ago that returning home too quickly after fun is a bad idea. It applies not only to travelling adventures, but even a mere night out. Like the nights when everyone else decides to head home at 00h30, so you leave too. Then you get home and spend the next two hours pacing, flipping through the telie with an ADD intensity, and exploring your creative side by drawing all over the white walls of your rented bedroom. Being, overall, a disorganised mess when it comes to containing my belongs in neat corridors, it is always wise for me to take the "long" way home. So, post school, I mostly stayed in Aix. Then, I went to Northern Ireland to visit Kat (allo!!!) for a few days. Prior to that I had to pack up alllll of my belongings in anticipation of not having a bedroom upon my return. Then I went to Scotland to visit another friend. Puis, a Aix, encore. It turned out my bedroom was still available, so I stayed there for a few more nights. More packing. Then, to Paris, for my last French weekend (excuse me, mon derniere week-end francais) to prance about the ville with my lovely roommate from my Florida days. It was soooo great to see ma francaise after more than three years. She is one of those amazing people that you meet in life that have a spirit of gold, a constant smile, and an amazing aura. (Oooh, aura. So freaky, Jen Mac.) Post week in Paris (pack up again, mate!), I flew to Ottawa for a wee 3/4 'ohana fun. I house hopped there, lugging my luggage, again, to where ever free accommodation took me.

And finally... here. I am so giddy not to have to pack anything other than a bag to bring to work each day. And by each day, I mean "today", as today was my first full day back. I survived. And spoke English. I was rambling in a meeting (rambling = talking professionally) and almost stopped to mentally congratulate myself on my English skills. That being said, must use French skills so will not have to return to foreign land again in a decade to ameliorer, encore.

Other strategic planning about coming home: always come home when things are HAPPENING. Coming home right before Xmas? = smart.

Coming home mid January?


Never return in mid January! Unless you are one of those "Gentle Island" folk, who enjoy doing nothing, but watching the snow fall.

I am also pleased not to be on a plane again soon. I have been on eight flights in the past month, and through seven metal detectors. I've pulled my laptop out of my bag seven times. I pulled out my non-explosive liquids in tiny containers seven times. I took my belt and boots off seven times. Watch off... coat off... Bleh. I took the train from Aix to Paris. It was so pleasant compared to the plane. More space, much prettier scenery (crayola colours of south France!), and no one assumed I was a criminal intent on destroying the world. Instead, I napped, and my ears didn't feel like they were going to explode.

Exploding ears = bad

Today I re-invested in a gym membership. Also realised that I am MP3 playerless after it was destroyed in the spring. Kind of forgot. Thank goodness good TV was on. I also attempted to work my "core", aka "abdominal muscles" (part of the core), aka, "beer belly".

Actually, "pastry belly".

I will not compare my abdominal muscles to fresh jello, as there is some muscle there... It's more like putting a tiny rock at the bottom of a bowl of pudding. The rock is down there somewhere.

Mmm, pudding!

Also, there was new equipment at the gym. Delightful! Did I use it? No. I will save it, trying only one new machine per week. Kind of like when I was young, and my mum said Brother and I could each eat only one granola bar per day. And, in my junior high years, fruit snack things for my lunch. Only one per day. I would eat, like, three or four per day. I got good at hiding wrappers around my room. I blame puberty... and never my sweet tooth which is more powerful than a Magical-Cape-Wearing Jesus.

I was supposed to go to bed an hour ago. Trop mignon. This blog was a procrastination tool to hanging up my wet laundry. I will regret this when I have no dry clothes to wear to work tomorrow.

Thus, if this scenario occurs, I will officially declare it BIRTHDAY SUIT AT WORK DAY! Could be nipply, given we no longer have heaters in our offices. Wankers. They blasted the AC all summer, to the point of wearing LONG SLEEVES and PANTS and other such repulsive winter attire.

I used to wear bare legs outside, only mere days ago. Now I wear long johns, pants, and wool socks. My legs are sad.

And I am tired.

A plus tard.

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