I was silly and forgot my id pictures in France. And of course I need the one and only thing that's cheaper in France than in the States (other than wine): id pictures.
I paid the Post Office 15 bucks for two pictures. What a cash cow! They have a digital camera and just print it off on photo paper with their Kodak photo printer. Why haven't my parents figured out their printer yet???
Tomorrow's a big day because I have my appointment at the Consulate. I'll finally be less in the dark. I've made photocopies of all the possible extra documents they could want, like B's job contract, a pay stub of his, plus our rental agreement. I just hope they don't ask for a Police report, because that's one of the few things I don't have.
The rest of this week looks just as exciting and fun filled: to follow up on my mom's elective foot surgery Monday morning, this Friday she's having an MRI to find out if the small spot in her breast is cancerous. Yay!
I've also really realized that this isn't really home for me anymore. My life, at least, is in France. I've barely entered my old room, and even though I loved it, it just seems too much like my old life, the old me down there. I don't even really have friends in France (except B's friends, who are great, but not my own), but my routine, my stuff, my honey muffin (:-*) are all in France. I made taboulé for my parents like my friend Adrianna taught me, but it didn't turn out quite the same. I started thinking it was because it wasn't my kitchen and the ingredients weren't the same, but then I realized "I thought I hated my tiny kitchen! I thought I missed Crisco and good salsa and jumbo packs of whatever!" Maybe I do miss good salsa in France a little bit, but it's my kitchen, stocked with what we eat. I used to think I cooked just like my mom, but I realized I don't.
Everyone keep a good thought out for my friend Britainy. She has her first day of jury duty tomorrow, so let's hope she doesn't get picked! (PS, anyone know if you can get called for jury duty in France??? B had no idea)
1 comment:
Wow, you really describe a lot of the same feelings I have when I go back home too! I go into my room, and it just feels so odd, because even though it's supposedly "my" room, it just somehow doesn't feel right because it's a part of my past life... And today my home is, in fact, very much in France, as hard as that is for me to say to my parents. I do have a couple really good friends back in the U.S., but the majority of my friendships I have built up over the years here in France, and then of course there are my boy's friends too.
And the kitchen thing? Ever since I started really cooking on my own here in France, something I never actually DID in the U.S., my miniscule kitchen has become my home, too: it's where I keep MY things and where I just feel more comfortable, even if my mom's kitchen is much more convenient and spacious.
I guess this is what they mean by really growing up, huh? ;) Ha ha...
Oh, and I've never heard of jury duty in France either!
Post a Comment