I've been sneaky!

Remember a while back when I showed you that "teaser" photo?? I was keeping that quiet because it was a photo shoot J.D. and I agreed on doing to frame and give to our mommies for Mother's Day. And seeing as how I was working every weekend, I didn't get a chance to give mine her frame until last weekend!

Thanks again to my good friend Meghan for doing this! We had fun and seriously, she's an AMAZING photographer :) I see good things in her future. So these are my favorites of the shoot. Enjoy:


Also, I decided to scrap the women's festival 5K race put on by Fleet Feet in Sacramento next weekend. Instead, I'm going to do a race a little bit closer to home with J.D.! I helped him train for it for the first time last night, capping off a 5.25 mile night for myself. We're running the Hook and Ladder Run put on by the Pleasanton-Livermore Firefighters Foundation and Wente Vineyards. We will be doing the 5K bright and early. Not only are tee-shirts provided as a thank you for running, but there's also going to be wine tasting and food for sale after the race! SO AWESOME. I can't wait :) Lately, I've been averaging an 8:30/mile pace for my 5K runs, so I'm hoping to get down to 8:00 exactly (or under???) in the next week and a half for this race!

I'm so excited. It'll be my first official race since the Oakland A's Fun Run since 2002. That race was after my cross country days (only one year and an ankle injury later), but I managed to finish 28:46 - without having trained for it. I hope to smash that this year :)

Puppy Love

It's taken me a while to think about this. Well, I can't really stop thinking about it, I was just hoping to do some justice here.

On Valentine's Day 1998, I was struck hard by Cupid's arrow. I know it was the first love of my life. That was the second full day I got to spend with my brand new border collie puppy, Daisy.

From there my puppy love grew into a friendship I assumed would last a lifetime. From Daisy running down the driveway every day I drove home from high school to greet me, to car rides letting me sleep on her as a pillow, to taking pictures with her on prom, to running with her to get us both in shape, to chasing deer down the street together, I never once thought twice about how great of a dog I had.

She had a personality all her own, too. It doesn't take a dog person to detect each dog's distinct smile, and Daisy definitely had her own. She had her own way of talking with us too. And responding. We could never mention the words "walk," "leash," "treat," "squirrel," "deer," "swim," or "kisses" without that smart little pooch understanding us as if we were speaking to a fellow human being. I was so proud of myself the year I taught her how to high five, and the pride grew even greater when we each took turns patiently waiting as she slowly learned how to fetch the newspaper each morning. It even got to the point where we'd open the front door and she'd handle it all on her own without any instruction in the mornings.

I don't know if it's things like that I'm going to miss more, or just snuggling and wrestling with her. I can't even begin to estimate the countless number of times I'd just lay on the ground and cuddle with my puppy. Not even in her lifetime, but each day. My dad used to call me crazy, but I loved her so much I'd kiss her sometimes and "give him/her kisses" was even a command Daze learned to reciprocate.

Despite the fact that I moved out at least three times since high school, Daisy was always the first to greet me, and the last member of our family I'd hug or wave to before leaving. She still remained a very large part of my life. Even from afar.

As I wipe the tears away from my eyes this very moment, it's with a heavy, heavy heart that I say I'm going to miss that dog more than anything I've ever missed in my 24 years of existence. I never really got the chance to say goodbye, so I'm hoping this is some form of closure for me.

It wasn't until they put her down, that I found out Daisy had a very aggressive cancer that crept up on her and claimed her life in less than two weeks without any signs really. In one day, she was gone from my life so quickly.

I just never knew it'd be this hard. Daisy was the sweetest, smartest, most fun and affectionate dog I've ever had and I know it's going to take a lot of tries to even come close to a dog like that. I just wish I had another chance to play with her one last time....

I still don't think this entry does any justice at all to how I feel about her and how heavy a weight I feel in my heart every breathing moment of every day. I'm convinced more than ever, that a dog is truly as much a family member as anyone else.

Global Warming Killed My Boyfriend

I'll have to update this with picture proof when I get back to Antibes. But I've finally succumbed to a French love-affair.

It all started *cue flashback music* in Switzerland of all places. This chilly Easter morning, I experienced my first real falling flakes of snow in quite a number of years. It sparked something in me that hasn't yet been awaken. Kind of like a child-like state. So in this "weakened" mentality, I was able to let it in.

In Neuchâtel, Switzerland I saw this little guy. My first glimpse of a snowman left by some other love-struck wanderer and suddenly, I was inspired beyond my years.


Since I'd already been heart-warmed by this child-like state, a few hours later and back in Annecy, France chez mon papa, I was quickly reminded of my brief infatuation from earlier in the day. Just like that, a wave of emotions I've never felt rushed over me.


A new idea struck my little American brain and love walked back into my life. This is the beginning:


Just when I thought I'd never have a French romance, I was willing and patient to let things develop. I was trying to catch something before that wasn't yet ready to materialize.


It took a lot of hard work and energy -- even the eventual delay of my favorite nightly ritual: tartes from the local bakery.


In order to make things work with a French man, you must be patient. You have to be willing to see what you want to see and accept the rest for what it is.


French men never smile in photos.


But in the end it'll never work out. Our differences are greater than the miles that span the Atlantic Ocean and separate California from France. Eventually I'll have to go back home. His temper got the best of me the few short hours we spent together. Because of his French heritage, he is cold and slow to let people in.

I made a joke about him being thus and he took it too much to heart. So then I pointed out the obvious stereotype: "If you're so upset about it, why don't your run crying to your mother." However, I didn't know he actually does live with his mom.

I let myself sleep on it and in the morning decided that I needed to apologize and we could work out whatever kinks exist between us.

...But in the morning, he was gone.

* * * * * *

I told you snow makes me feel like a kid. Though, I had to put up with a lot to get here, like a 13-hour delayed flight. I arrived at the Nice Cote d'Azur airport on Friday at 6:30 p.m., a little early for my flight. When the kiosk finally opened, my gate was never listed and "Flight Delayed" kept flashing by all the Easy Jet flights.

Well, three hours passed and the two flights of the night that were later than my 9 p.m. flight had already come and gone. Our plane sat patiently at the designated gate, waiting for people to fill it up. By 11:30 p.m., we were finally given the green light to board. Alas, after 30 minutes in the hangar, everyone was told to leave and go back beyond security to the airport's main lobby. Everything in the airport was closed and half the lights were off. Instead of flying out that night, every single passenger was given free transportation to the Park Inn hotel right by the airport along with a (HUGE, un-France-sized) breakfast the next morning and transportation back to the airport.

Long story short, I made my way to the Basel airport for a snow-filled weekend in Germanic Switzerland with my parents. Here's my very first glimpse of snow, before even getting off the plane:


Though I don't yet know how this story will end. It's supposed to snow heavily for the next three days in Geneva, so only time will tell if my flight will be able to leave ground this afternoon...

Love is in the air...

I guess it's fair to warn you all now. I may not be coming back to the United States at the end of the academic year.

After yesterday, it seems I have my pick of at least seven suitors and I'm pretty sure they all would agree to marry me so I could stay in the country legally.

Let's see how this day started, shall we?

When I went to my first CE2 class, the little boy who does the best in my class and walks with me to school some mornings came up to me at the end of the period and asked me with rather sad looking eyes, "Monica [they all think I make my name sound French because I'm an American living in France, so untrue!], your birthday hasn't passed yet, has it?"

Not really sure why he wanted to know such information, I responded with a smile, "Nope! You guys are lucky because France gives two weeks of vacation for my birthday; it's the start of the April vacation."

Then he looked really pleased, hid a little smirk and ran off to recess.

The nice thing about teaching is that I also get the recess. But I get both recess periods, so I essentially have 30 minute breaks throughout the day. Enter what I'll call Scenario No. 2.

While I was sitting in the teachers' room with the door open, I noticed the "sick bench" was full of giggling boys. I looked back to see what was so funny, but didn't recognize a single one of them. Going back to making my copies, I heard from around the corner, "'Ello Monique!" when it turned out one of my students was certainly in the doorway.

I looked back, waved and they all erupted in giggles a second time. Shaking my head and smiling to myself, I kept at my work. But during the next 10 minutes, they kept making excuses to come into the room or provoke me to enter the hallway where they were seated. Finally, it all culminated in my one student nudging his little friend, asking, "Sooo, Monique. What do you think about him?" pointing to the boy right next to him. Then I couldn't help but join in the infectious laughing, noticing that at least three of the boys were blushing and waiting for a response.

However, I didn't give them the satisfaction of hearing a response. I figure whatever I was going to say would have probably been illegal, because I can't refrain from making a good joke. But I kept it to myself.

And now for the third and final "romantic" part of my day.

When I went to my second CM1 class after lunch, the teacher greeted me hastily as soon as I walked in the room. "Don't start getting ready for class yet, we had a poetry unit this morning and two people would like to read poems they wrote about you."

Now I was the one blushing. Did all the students conspire today to flirt with their English teacher who's twice their age?!

Well, the poems were hysterical. They actually started to make me kind of nervous, ha. Either way, this is about the gist of what they said:

Monique. Elle est dynamique: Elle est tres énergique, mais jamais diabolique. J'aime comment elle est sympathique. Des fois, elle est vraiment acrobatique. Jamais alcoolique. Elle est super magnifique! Monique: elle est très très unique!

It's basically just a whole bunch of nice words that rhyme with my name. There was actually much more, but I can't really remember it all. Either way, it was pretty funny slash cute.

There you have it. The French really must be great seducers if they all do things like this from such a young age.

But what do I love?


Smoothies. And a few days ago I was trying to pass time and stay warm waiting for a friend in a bookstore. Wandering past the cookbook section, a smoothie recipe book caught my eye. And while I've seen my share of smoothie recipes -- I'm an addict, what can I say? -- nothing compares to the French ingredient lists! They're so creative and bizarre, so I'm going to try making one tomorrow.

It's kind of my twist on a recipe I saw in the bookstore, but the ingredients I have on-hand that will be going in are as follows:

-Vanilla soy milk
-Green tea
-Grapefruit (meat and juice)
-Pineapple yogurt
-Honey

Here's to hoping it's as good as it sounds!

Les Séducteurs

Pictured: Olivier Martinez -- the Frenchman in the movie Unfaithful. This will be relevant I promise.

What is it with you people?!

Whenever anyone finds out I'm moving to France, they always tell me to beware of French men and that I can't fall in love over there, because I'll never come home. Perhaps this is a result of all the literature and propaganda American and English women are putting out telling about how they went to study abroad and came back... well didn't come back really, after getting PACSed -- a civil union to stay with their sweeties in the country.

I've been given all kinds of "advice" from -- my doctor's suggestion of all people -- "You know how those French are more liberal, they're very promiscuous so be careful," to "Your mom will be so sad to lose you to a French man!"

And we're all forgetting some minor details here:

a.) I went away to school for FOUR years. I didn't run away with a boy, or a man for that matter, and I didn't move to Southern California or even out of the state to live with someone I've fallen madly in love with.

b.) I lived in France before and hardly met anyone then!

It's not like I'm some mindless girl who falls for any and everyone. I mean, who doesn't like being in love? But you can't just say "yes" to everyone who shows some minor interest. And do I really strike you people as the kind of girl guys throw themselves at? I didn't think so.

Now that I've vented a little bit, let's just say that if my past is any indicator, you don't have to worry about losing me to any sweet-talking French man.

So stop bugging me about it already!!

...5 jours!!! I'm getting so excited/anxious/nervous that I can't even sleep anymore because I'm thinking about everything that could possibly happen. I think today I'll finally put all my clothing into my suitcase, but I've been so afraid it won't actually fit.

Oh, and, I have my first real story from this journey to share another day after I figure out more about who to contact. But I got through to La Directrice on the phone, who, if I managed to understand correctly, no longer works in the Antibes school district. So I'm going to play some more phone tag with people I don't know and hopefully figure it out!