Monday, May 21, 2012
The other day, Virginie from HR was helping me with my French tax forms. I had filled out as much as I could beforehand so as not to waste more of her time than necessary. When she saw that I had checked "Madame" instead of "Mademoiselle", she sighed as she crossed it out saying, "You are 'mademoiselle.' You are not married."
"Yes, I said. But I'm old."
She laughed and said, "Yes. But you are still 'mademoiselle.'"
I'll TAKE it.
Today for some reason I didn't cross to the side of Vieille du Temple I usually take home. And I felt a smidge of excitement when I realized I was walking on the other side of the street. (It gets pretty exciting Chez Jode these days. The other side of the street... oh my!) A moment later, some wacko came up to me, spouting off that Michael Jackson was KILLED. And THEY. KNOW. (At first, my poor translation skills thought he was making fun of me looking like Michael Jackson in my leather pants... but then I got it.) I went home and promptly hit up the internet news to see if something new had come to light on MJ's death. But alas, the east side of the street is just cray.
We get out of work at 4 pm on Fridays. (Every Friday, not just in the summer. It's pretty great.) Last Friday as I was walking home, I came upon a couple with the most adorable King Charles Cavalier pup with a GIANT burgundy bow around its neck. Of course, I stalk-walked them, turning when they did, trying to get a photo without being seen, reveling in the profound happiness that a puppy both gives off and affords. I found myself just wanting to be around her, with her feathery paws and her bow and her looking up at them lovingly and her stiffing of everything like it was the first time she'd experienced it (because it likely was). And then I realized that I do this with ALL dogs--not just the cute puppas--because I don't have one. I just want to be near them... to walk by them, to sit by them on the subway. This is a special kind of crazy. Perhaps I belong on the other side of the street, after all.