Just call me Reckless

Wednesday was a big day. Not for any one, big reason, but for several small ones.

First, snow again. BIG, beautiful flakes of snow! But only for about half an hour and nothing stuck. Nonetheless, it was beautiful.

Next, I walked into the cleaner's to drop some things off, and what did I hear over the speakers but the Connell's singing 74/75, my favorite Connell's song. Not that hearing American pop music is shocking--it's everywhere here, played over the speakers while you enjoy your lunch or do a little shopping. It's the fact that it was the Connell's...it was just kinda cool.

OH, and before this there was the monthly siren test. Apparently, and no one tells you this when you move here, every month, on the first Wednesday of the month at noon, the city of Paris tests all emergency sirens. I was having flashbacks to WWII. Movies, of course, WWII movies. My imagination was saying, "Air raid! Take cover!" and my mind was saying, "Wait...it's 2009...but what IS that?" I checked the neighbors' windows, but no one seemed panicked. I turned on the tv, but there was just an interview with someone about another scandal. So I turned to google, and what do you know, they had the scoop. And by the way, if you happen to be in San Francisco the first Tuesday of the month and start hearing sirens, no worries. They're just a day ahead of Paris with their tests.

Later I met Quynh for dinner and afterward we went to an "international" meetup. It was packed, and getting a drink was no easy task. Just like everything else that involves someone providing service, patience is called for. Eventually we were rewarded with tasty glasses of wine and it was on to people meeting. The great thing was that the hosts for this event would actually seek out new people, introduce themselves, then introduce a couple of other people to you. We met several interesting people from Australia, Italy, the UK, and who knows where else. Allen who was from Australia said something that I just loved although I'm afraid I may not remember it verbatim. It was something to the effect of, "I'm glad my life has not been limited to my dreams." Wow...powerful stuff.

Then there was the photographer from the UK...I think his name was Peter. He was hilarious. Of course, it wouldn't translate if I tried to tell you all the funny things he said, so you'll just have to take my word for it. I will, however, tell you that he's the one who gave me my new nickname...Reckless. We were sharing "how'd you get to Paris" stories, and when I had told him mine he said, "You're the first person I've ever met who sold their house, sold their car, quit their job and just moved to another country because they wanted to. You are BRAVE!" I replied with my standard, "either brave or stupid...the jury's still out," and that's when he said, "reckless...that's what you are. I'm gonna call you Reckless!" So there you have it. My first real nickname--Reckless. My friends Janet and Jake have always called me Marie, but that's my middle name, so I don't think it counts as a nickname.

It was a fun night filled with comedians, philosophers, and one Italian guy who just had to speak to keep me hanging on every word. The best sound in the world is children laughing, but coming in a really close second is the sound of an Italian man or a Frenchman speaking English...like music, I tell ya. And before you ask, he was waaay too young for me. But I can listen, can't I?