I recently finished reading "Entre Nous: A Woman's Guide to Finding Her Inner French Girl" and recently watched the film "Letters to Juliet." After doing both of these things and listening to French music, I have once again awakened the deep desire within me to travel and live abroad in France and Italy. I HAVE TO GO THERE.
I want to go here for the culture, but that is far too broad of a term. And when I say France, I don't just mean Paris and all the "touristy" places. I want to see the obscure, not-on-the-map towns where the people have lived their for years and years. I want to eat French food and eat wonderful, delicious, fresh food from the market that I bought in the morning. I want to cook French food in my tiny, itty-bitty kitchen, wander among the arrondissements on my beach cruiser. I also am rather fond of their lifestyle and their desire to live life not make a living. Four to five weeks of paid vacation each year sounds lovely. I like working hard but I'm not a fan of the cellphone/e-mail/Blackberry/iPhone/time-fanatic lifestyle so commonly found in the America. Plus they take their time to eat, which is perhaps why France doesn't have quite the obesity problem America does. I'm serious. Anyways, if I can't live in France someday (dagger to the heart) I will spend at least a month there.
Have you seen "Letters to Juliet"? If you haven't, you're desire to visit Italy will only intensify. I also have a love for many things Italian: food, food, clothes, movies, scenery, food, men, music, books, and...food. I just gotta go!
In other news...
I went for a drug/alcohol test today before I begin my job on Monday. Well, I got into the little room, signed the paperwork and was directed to a chair to sit in. I thought they might take some blood and/or make me pee in a cup. No big deal right? Right...or so I thought. The woman spun me around and said something about going in underneath so my immediate thought was that she was going to take a sample from my neck or something. WEIRD. Next she asked me whether I wear my hair up or down more. Down. Ok weird question. Is she trying to distract me from the pain? THEN...I feel and hear scissors!!!!!!! SHE CUT A PIECE OF MY HAIR!!!!!!! I felt like Sampson. How rude. She didn't even tell me. And then she SHOWED me how much she took! It was a chunk as thick as my finger. So now I have some weird spot underneath (ok thankfully it was underneath) my hair. I didn't even search for it when I got home because I don't want to know. And when I showered today I swear my hair felt thinner. Over dramatic? Yes. But she took my hair. Sad day.