Archive | March, 2011

The Art of Happiness

31 Mar

I found my iPod today.

It had been missing since January.

It was in the pocket of my leather jacket. An interesting reminder that it has been too cold even to wear a leather jacket in a long time. And an encouraging reminder that summer will indeed arrive once again. Eventually.

What was an even nicer find, when i plugged in my earphones at long last, was the absolute rush of joy that flooded into my body when i heard Regina Spektor coming through to me once again. It must have been the last thing i was listening to – before it got too cold to wear the jacket anymore.

And it instantly brought me back to last summer.

I realised in that moment, sitting in the metro, that over the last summer in Paris – in my tiny little studio under the rooftops of Belleville, with barely enough money to feed myself – was one of the happiest times of my life so far.

I think a tear actually ran down the side of my face while i was contemplating what it was about that Summer that made it such a time of happiness. I’d like to capture it in a bottle and use it again when i’m in need.

There was nothing particularly exciting about that summer. It was such an idle, dreamy and simple time. I was relaxed, there was sun, a lot of free time,  i was getting to know Mr No Name (well i had fingers in a few pies at that time), and i think it may have actually been the first time i’ve ever had my own place, now that i think about it.

I don’t know if it’s one of those things in particular, something else entirely or if it’s just a melange of all the nice things above, but it was really, really nice.

And when i heard that music coming into my mind again for the first time since then, it gave me a renewed sense of what i should be aiming to bring into, or to keep in, my life – and now i feel like the path is getting exciting again.

A double win for Poulette today.

And for all mankind as well 😉


How to Attract An Australian

29 Mar

I noticed someone ended up on this blog the other day from having googled ‘how to attract Australian men’.

And to you, i say, “get back to me when you find out”.

But what i can offer is this. Unlike French men, who seem to go for anyone who seems like a bitch, i think in Australia it is rather the opposite. Ah ha, that’s right – be nice. I’m not sure if it is actually as easy as that, but it is certainly the essential ingredient.

To you, dear google-er (is that a word yet?), if you read this, and you are indeed a nice person, you should have no trouble attracting yourself an Australian.

Let me know when it happens 😉

Pot Calling The Kettle Fat?

18 Mar

Sorry to get all political like on you all, but i have to share the funniest thing i have heard all week.

On the matter of Nicolas Sarkozy, this week, Gaddafi apparently said in an interview something along the lines of “yes, Sarkozy… he is my friend, you know, but unfortunately he is crazy – he has a mental disease”.

This cracked me up.

It’s amazing that someone so completely off the planet has the clarity to see such a thing in someone else. Truly incredible.

Perhaps he is in fact superhuman enough to succeed.

I wonder whether that’s the reason France will be throwing a bomb over Gaddafi’s roof sometime this afternoon?

A Farewell to Arms

8 Mar

I’d like to talk about Charlie Sheen.

But i won’t. Not enough room on the INTERNET to talk about all the crazy going on there.

So instead i’ll talk about the other thing currently occupying space in my head, normally reserved for air, EATING.

Oh my good god is living in France in winter is a sheer test of will or what?

All it takes is December, January, February, a little bit of fois gras, some sneaky – still in the fridge as you cut it – cheese eating, a couple of plates of confit du canard, an entire olive baguette on a Sunday afternoon and voila – a new layer of protective fat. Just in time for Spring.

I’ve taken off my jeans and put on my leggings. I am not putting them back on until they no longer look like i’ve sprayed denim directly onto my legs.

It’s official. Poulette is on operation ‘put the cheese down’.

Or maybe operation (no) dessert storm.

Now i could do this the old-fashioned French way and cover every inch of my body in fat reducing creams and stuff my self silly with diet pills, but i’m gonna do this the plain old Anglo-Saxon way and stuff myself full of vegetable for several weeks, while salivating on the window of pattiseries and restaurants all over town.

This is really happening guys.

Am I Dead?

5 Mar

I am completely aware that this is called neglect.

I have had a crazy week of work and the forecast is the same for next week. So much to talk about yet so little time. All i can say right now is how did i end up working virtually all the time for virtually no money?

This is not what i moved to France for.
Time to put my thinking cap on….