Au Revoir

It seems everything is order for the time being.  Everything that has needed to be moved out, canceled or transferred has been done.  All work is complete.  Now it's just time to hop a plane and enjoy my one week of retirement in the beautiful country of France.  Postponed from April due to that nasty volcano, I can't help but think this trip comes at the most opportune of times in my life.  I'm greatly looking forward to serene landscapes, tasty treats, refreshing wines, loads of history, and fabulous fashions.  I have no idea what I'll come away from this trip, but it's highly doubtful there will be room to disappoint.

Stories and adventures to come...

Images via

Happy Bastille Day!

Oh, how I hate missing a great soiree.  It's just some 44 days though until my rescheduled trip to France.  In other words, still some time left to refresh my wardrobe, brush up on my wine knowledge, and refine my vocabulary. The real question is:  how will I get my whole life here packed without the hefty extra baggage fees?

Image Credits:  Marie Claire Maison and Sophia Coppola for Louis Vuitton Campaign via La Dolce Vita

Rerouting

It was a tale of two airports.  One stood in my hometown of St. Louis, and the other across the pond in Nice, France.  The problem was just one was allowing flights.  Wouldn't you know it was the less glamorous of the two?  The wonderful thing about airports though(when they are in operation), is that some flying machine is always going somewhere.  With bags packed and already at the airport, my parents and I decided it was a shame to waste a week of completed "To-Do" lists and an eased mind of a work-free week.  Just where to go though?  That was not in Europe?  That we have not been?  That we could comfortably wear the clothes that were packed?  Well how about Washington, D.C.?  Great idea.  Actually, fantastic idea.

If the United States was where I was to remain for the time being (until the last week of August to be precise), I could not have been more grateful to see DC.  While some were concerned about my sudden bursts of adrenaline from taking in so much history in one city, I was able to pull myself together enough to calmly observe and admire.

The funny thing is when I returned many offered their apologies for my original trip being canceled.  It would be difficult for me to be upset though when I so generously received two trips out of one.  Moreover, it never really occurred to me what I was missing out on.  Sometimes the Earth quakes, oceans storm, and volcanos blow.  That's life.  All we can ever do is go along with it.

Au Revoir...?

As luck would have it a volcanic eruption would take place in Iceland leaving a massive fog of ash to cover much of Europe.  Right before my much awaited trip to France.  No word as of yet as to whether my 5:40 flight out of JFK airport to Nice is canceled or not.  My fingers are crossed tightly in a knot that we'll make it.  In typical fashion, I packed my bags at the last minute.  It must be said though that even I am quite impressed with how efficiently my wardrobe is mapped out.  If I'm missing something?  Well what better place than to go that little shop around the corner for an easy fix?

While I gear up for a busy travel day, I'm trying to send some good vibes my way by listening to my favorite French music and envisioning my arrival to beautiful Monte Carlo. Hopefully this is au revoir for now, friends...c'est si bon!

Photo

April in Paris-II

Another dollar done well at Redbox.  I loved everything about An Education.  Just absolutely everything.  The setting being in London during the early 1960s, the glamorous clothing, a deceptive romance, and Peter Sarsgaard being a charming Brit and unassuming cheat.  Originally I had rented this movie because it sounded like something I could relate to.  A rebellious young private school girl is looking to break out of her studious ways for a life less ordinary.  It sounded familiar.  As it turns out the main character Jenny and I had very different senior years.  If only I could have dated an English playboy, gone to fancy night clubs, and gotten whisked away to Paris.  Who knows where I could have landed after all that.  Then again, did she get to partake in the art of tailgating at Oxford?  I would think not.  

One of the great scenes in this movie is when David and Jenny jet off to Paris for her Birthday.  A place she always dreamed of going.  Then again, isn't waltzing around in designer apparel, charming vintage photographs at all the sights capped off with a picnic on the Seine River every girl's dream?  Watch below, and tell me it isn't.  Oh and you may as well go ahead and download the soundtrack too, because it's all as wonderful as Juliette Greco's Sur les quais du vieux Paris.

April in Paris

Sometimes you just have to let it all out.  So here goes:  IT'SHEREIT'SHEREIT'SHEREIT'SHERE!!!!!!

April that is.  It has been decided that this month will be all about glamour and enchantment for the sole fact that I will be traveling to France April 17-25.  It's valid.  The countless genres of art that were born there, the serene landscapes and architecture that are everywhere you look, and the vibrant fashions that walk the streets are just a few reasons why I chose Francaise as my graduation destination.  I didn't give too many instructions to my parents, except to just book it.  As it so happened it was arranged that we'd go in April.  A fact that didn't strike me until one unassuming evening when spring was starting to blossom here in St. Louis, and Louis Armstrong & Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of April in Paris played on my iPod while walking Francis Park.  The previous images I held of everything fine and chic are now detailed in chestnuts in blossom.  Being a Missouri resident, I am not quite certain how to envision it, but as I imagine it's fabulous!

This month most of my posts will be devoted to the culture and delicacies that make this country one of the most popular spots in the world.  What better way to give it a kick than with one of its greatest contributions, style?  Last night I finally tracked down The September Issue at a nearby Redbox.   It goes without saying that I became completely entranced with Anna Wintour's world of Vogue.  While the documentary was mainly filmed at the Vogue offices in New York City, Anna and her entourage do jet off to Paris for a brief stint.  Because that's just what you have to do to stay at the top of fashion.  For the rest of us just trying to reach that peak, we can enjoy and watch this promotional trailer featuring one of my favorite bands,
The Asteroids Galaxy Tour.
Le soupir...

Get Your Kicks on Route I-55

As the old saying goes "Work hard, play later." After a week of rigorous manual labor, and refraining from all of what Bourbon Street had to offer, we decided it was time to kick our shoes off and put our hats on. Well, I at least decided it was time to put my hat on. The fedora barely made the cut on the trip, but thankfully we were able to make some space for the little guy. Even though it got a lot slack for being of the old-fashion style, everyone eventually warmed up to it and it soon earned the name of "Fun-Dor-A." It is sung in a trio just like that as well.

Out to the French Quarter the five us, plus Fundora, went in search of anywhere that was showing the NCAA Tournament. With two Mizzou students on hand (Alex and I), we had to watch the Tigers battle it out in the Sweet Sixteen. One would think in an area with hundreds of bars, with many open 24 hours that there is bound to be a couple ten or twenty sports bars. We thought this, but after a tiring search the best we could find was a small restaurant on Bourbon. Of course they didn't have televisions on the first floor, we had to go upstairs. Normally this would not have been a problem by any means. However, in this case the staff was serviced by one woman (who happened to be our waitress) that thought we were making up Margaret and Emilie's food alergies, and another waitress who had-well let's just call them anger management issues. New Orleans was supposed to get huge thunderstorms starting that night and going through the weekend, and this other waitress was absolutely terrified for the city because of them. So much so that she felt it necessary to take the remote from our table and switch all three televisions upstairs from the Mizzou game to The Weather Channel. After being emphatically informed by all three televisions of the possibility of flash flooding in the area, she proceeded to stand right next to our table and call everyone in her cell phone ranting in obscenities about how it was going to flood. Dinner was a little tense.

The game was not though. Mizzou blew the number two seed, Memphis, out 102-91. After finding another reason to celebrate, and for other obvious reasons, we decided to change locations. But where to go? We decided to ask some upstanding citizens and fellow tourists. The first we found was a group of middle-aged men in town on a business conference. They were lead by a scholarly looking man named Hylton, who directed us to a cozy little, literal hole-in-the-wall bar. The men thought so highly of this bar that they decided to stick around and treat us to a round in honor of the work we did all week. Now before you make assumptions on either party, I will say the outing was purely one of networking and life coaching. They all worked for GE Health Care, and Emilie received contact information as a result of the meeting. In addition we were given some invaluable post-graduation advice on life and love. It was a great closing conversation and meeting of characters to our NOLA experience.

The next morning we were planning on exploring the city all day. That was until I woke up in tears from being so sick. All week I had been battling a sinus infection that I tried to cure before I left. Unfortunately the antibiotics never kicked in. With being around all the dust, materials, and knows all what else I only became worse by the end of the week. An executive decision was made to leave that day. My friends were nice enough to let me lie in agony while they packed my bags. Once everything was packed up, including the third bed we drove down on our own, we hit the road with me on a makeshift cot in the back.

For most of the trip I forced myself into sleep so as not to think of the fact that I was on a ten hour car ride while incredibly ill. Of course I did wake up for our daily Frostee stop at Wendy's. It was probably about six hours into the drive, one mile outside of Vaiden, Mississippi that I woke up to Tracy (who was now driving) yelling "I can't move! I can't move!" Not moving is what we did for an hour on the side of the highway. We were out of gas as a result of water damage to the computer system that the gas gauge was run by. We called Highway Patrol immediately, and after much discussion convinced the state trooper we were probably out of gas, and sent Emilie into Vaiden to get a couple of gallons. In the meantime Sonny, of Sonny's Towing, showed up. Apparently he was a fan favorite of the state trooper's, and he soon became ours as well when he got us up and running once again. Back down I-55 went, and back to sleep I went. Well at least I tried to. I was too itchy to ever settle down. This is because I had broke out in a full out body rash. I was having an allergic reaction. This was on top of the other illness I was currently battling (after going to the doctor the next day I found out I had pneumonia). I tried to get comfortable under the circumstances, but with the computer system down we were also without air conditioning for a good portion of the trip.

It may seem like this was a miserable car ride. Quite the contrary though. Through all my heaving coughs, Margaret and Emilie's food allergy issues, and Alex's struggles with the pronunciations of such words as "praline," we provided ourselves with entertainment that you just can't get anymore. One of the important lessons I feel we learned that week is that it's the help of others that get you through the day. So after a couple great dance moves that should be hitting a local scene near you any day now, we helped each other get home with some semblance of sanity left. Oh my NOLA, what a trip it was.

If Walls Could Talk

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't ready for day four to be our last day. The issue being, I left New Orleans with a sinus infection I had been trying to get over for two weeks. Before the trip I was prescribed antibiotics, but they had decided to never kick in during the week. Instead, with all the lifting and dust, I seemed to only worsen my condition. When you're in a city like New Orleans though, and working on fixing houses such as the ones we were, the last thing you would ever want to complain or feel bad about is a sinus infection. An experience such as this one really puts things in perspective. I would say this should be a relief for all who had the pleasure of being around me this week as I can tend to be somewhat of a hypochondriac.

We were left with little manpower for the day as the two teachers were leaving at half day and Mark had to be on location elsewhere. Hey, no bodies, no problem. We came into day four with a plan and motivation. We knew we didn't want to leave with a bunch of empty walls still staring at us. To the drywall stack we went, with Tracy, Margaret and Emilie ready to tackle the kitchen area and Alex and I determined to conquer the laundry room. Thanks to the rigorous workload from the previous days, we were old pros at the drywall routine now and had all become comfortable in our little niches. Margaret was our stellar power drillers, Tracy our master layout strategist, Emilie had become a pro at carving and shaving, Alex was fearless on any ladder, and I, well I excelled at telling people they were doing exactly what they should be doing.

All in all day four came and went without too many glitches. We put up more ceiling where, once again, Mark told us the wrong commands even when we tried multiple to correct him. Thankfully though, as stated earlier, Emilie was a carving and shaving pro with the drywall, and the issue was able to be remedied. Of course we can't take all the credit for our energy and hard work. A lot of that came from the Wendy's Frostees we inhaled daily while on the job site. It became a tradition, well if three days can constitute as a tradition , for us to order a Frostee during every lunch break, which doubled as a bathroom break. It may seem a bit unhealthy, but it was not our fault that the job site was still without plumbing and the closest bathroom was at Wendy's down the street. Once there, who can really resist a Frostee? Even I, who had never had Wendy's until this trip, found it difficult to do so.

After all the Frostees and the wonderful combination of sack lunches and food provided by Della and her Mom, we were able to get the lower level off to a strong start. We left the house with a completed laundry room, half completed kitchen, a totally finished upper level that we fine-tuned, and a lot of memories. We all found it was actually hard to leave the house, not knowing what the final product would look like. It became a sort of child for us; it had the framework, it just needed us to give it some good drilling and support. So at the end of the day it may have just looked like a bunch of drywall, but if you looked at the details you could see a lot of strength and care nailed into those studs.

Mynor Details

Another day in New Orleans and another wealth of characters to be met. With the boys gone, the project manager, Mark, found it necessary to spend the morning with us to provide oversight and guidance. This is the same guy who advised us to put insulation in the first floor ceiling. Mark did apparently have a lot of confidence in us as he had planned for us to put up the ceiling drywall on the first floor. We had some experience with drywall from the previous day, but it was all from walls. Now to us, putting up drywall was putting up drywall. Little did we know the amount of woman power needed for ceiling drywall.

As it turned out all seven of us females, plus one man, were needed for the ceiling. It took three people on ladders, two brace supporters and three lifters to put up one standard sheet of drywall. Oh, and a lot of coordination. Thanks to the insulation we had installed from the previous day, the three people on ladders were more than sufficiently heated as well. The joint effort took around average, a half hour to put up just one sheet too. Since this was a small volunteer organization, supplies were scarce and we just had one power screwdriver to use between the three people on ladders. Not to mention we had seven girls who had absolutely no experience with any such construction work, and one very confused project manager. Mark frequently gave us the wrong orders on directions for the brace supporters, the wrong times to lift for the lifters, and took a great deal of time in figuring out just exactly where the board should slip into place while the people on ladders supported a great deal of weight. Fortunately no one was severely injured during such maneuvers.

When Mark finally left for the day, though it was very hard for him to part ways as he kept reminding us it was "silly to leave when surrounded by seven beautiful women," we made a mutual agreement to not put up ceiling for the rest of the day. Unfortunately though we had become so swift with putting up drywall on the walls that we couldn't go on without putting up more ceiling. As luck would have it though a small entourage had just showed up at the house to put in an A/C unit. This group of men were not just A/C specialists, they were full service construction workers. It didn't take long for the owner of this construction company, Mynor, to figure out we didn't know what we were doing and that we mad been misinformed on our technique. As it turned out, Mynor became our white knight that strolled onto General Taylor Street on a silver horse. He put up our ceiling for us, educated us on the power screwdriver, and provided us with a sleek slicer. Things got done and came together with Mynor in the house. By the end of the day, the kitchen was half completed and we actually felt like we had accomplished something as the homeowner, Della, had a huge smile on our face and told us how much better we were at what we did than the boys from Ohio.

Mynor himself also turned out to be impressed with our efforts. As we were about to jump back in the car and have Nigel lead us back to our hotel, Mynor approached us with an offering of gratitude. As a thanks for giving our time and efforts to Della and her house, he wanted to take us out for a real taste of New Orleans seafood. At seven O'clock that evening the five of us girls had a date with one charming Hondurian construction owner. The place was Deanie's Seafood, located in Lake Pontchatrain just outside of the city. True to his word, the seafood was fresh and delicious. A real New Orleans treat. Also, a treat to us from Mynor, who paid for all of our over $20 dinners. He would not hear of taking our money, and was quite sly about paying the bill before we even knew it got there. Yes, the dinner could have gone one of two ways. We had felt though that with strength in numbers, and after paying steep prices every night for dinner in the French Quarter, it didn't hurt to take a chance. Fortunately for us, chivalry is not completely dead. He provided wonderful conversation, telling us of his upbringing in Honduras and being neigbors with the President of Honduras, his travels in Canada, and starting up his own construction company in New Orleans. At the end of our lovely dinner we gave out some hugs and said our goodbyes. It was sad to know that we would probably never see him again. We knew we would never forget though the important lessons learned that day of how to actually use a power tool. Who knows, one day we may just travel down to Honduras and visit his resort he plans on opening in the near future. After all, we do owe him a dinner.

We May Not Know a Lot About Insulation, BUT...

You may think that five college senior girls may not know a lot about construction and repairing homes. And you would be right. At this point in our lives the five of us are renters, and not too many matters come up where we are called to fixing our walls or ceilings. However, we have read a few books, been taught by some scholars, and have met a variety of people from all different walks of life. Case in point, we have picked up some tricks of a few trades in our lifetime. Which is why we found ourselves having to dig our teeth out of our tongues and confront our project manager on Day Two in New Orleans.

The day was apparently meant to be one of confusion when we started by making at least seven "legal U-turns" thanks to our trusty GPS navigator we affectionately named, Nigel. After quite a few loops around Downtown New Orleans' Canal Street we finally made our way to the 12th Ward on General Taylor St. where Della Jones lived. The house was quite a change from Marilyn's whose house was practically finished when he had left it the day before. To say we were overwhelmed by Della's home's condition would be an overstatement. When we walked in there was absolutely nothing that resembled a home. Just a bunch of studs and random objects left from the storm. We had absolutely no idea what the five of us could possibly be capable of doing to improve this house. We hoped to find some hope and instruction upstairs. Unfortunately, our news was made worse. Five freshman guys from Ohio State University and two teachers from Columbus, OH were already up there working on the remaining dry wall left to be put up and looked at us as if we were in over our heads. I suppose five giggly girls could give off that perception. Basically they had no idea what we could do since they were already using all of the dry wall tools. So they told us to call Mark. Mark was the project site manager for Operation Nehemiah, and we soon came to find that he was just as informed about construction as we were. Construction management may not be my forte, but that's just the thing. It probably should be a project manager's.

Mark told us that before we could do the dry wall downstairs, which we would be doing in the days to follow, we needed to put in insulation. Cool, great, our job was easy because as it so happened, insulation was already put in all the walls on the first floor. So I gave Mark a ring back informing him our job had already been completed. Oh no, he shot back. Insulation still needed to be put in the ceiling. The ceiling on the first floor. Knowing my lack of knowledge on the matter I decided to keep my mouth shut that putting insulation in the first floor ceiling seemed a bit odd. I went back to the rest of my group and gave them the instructions. They also found themselves scratching their heads over the situation. Yet, what did we know? It's not like any of us had ever installed insulation anywhere before. Up the ladders we then went with our hammers and nails, and down the fiberglass came. It didn't take long for us to realize we were not prepared in attire for this sort of project. We needed masks, goggles, and gloves at the very least. We also had needed answers to a few puzzling questions we still had about insulation. After some dialogue with real experts, our fathers and the Home Depot employees, we felt we had to speak up. We found out that a) our bodies needed far more clothing and wool for putting up insulation and b) insulation on the first floor is in fact an uncommon feature in a house. Mark received another phone call from us that afternoon. He did a little side research and promptly called us back five minutes later to let us know that no, insulation on the first floor was actually not needed. A whole morning's work down the drain.

Back upstairs we went where we were possibly misinformed on the world of drywall, but received lessons on it nonetheless. As boys will be boys, they put a bit of swagger in their step and showed us how to cut and install drywall while leaving huge gaps in between them. It didn't look right, but once again what did we know. We were just five giggly girls. If nothing else, we made some good friends out of them as a few nights later they let us know out of concern of encroaching tornadoes to the area. While the day was frustrating at points we did learn a lot. For instance we now know how to install insulation and the proper attire to wear when doing so. We also found out that we might not know a lot about construction, but we do know more than the people we're working with.

We've Got a Rattler

Traveling within the United States, I often forget how foreign some parts can be. This week I am finding out just that while in New Orleans for spring break . With the state of the current economy, I made a personal decision to cut the spring break costs I would have incurred on a tropical location, and volunteer my time instead. Senior Year Spring Break New Orleans was quickly born. So Sunday morning, down I-55 me and four friends traveled, with the help of our trusty GPS Navigator Nigel, to see just how easy The Big Easy would be.

Already on Day 1 we have found, it is not so easy and not so much like home. A gorgeous and intriguing city still though, yes. However, already three years since Hurricane Katrina hit and the city still has a lot of work to go. Buildings with decaying paint, abandoned homes, and unkempt overgrown can be found everywhere. The one thing not lacking though is graciousness and hospitality, two things many cities could use a huge improvement in.

On our first assignment we were expecting the hard work and labor. What we were not expecting was an encounter with the wild. We picked up our sand brushes bright and early and got to scrubbing the home of one Marilyn Beinvenue. It wasn't long before we discovered that thirty years and a hurricane's worth of dirt was not going to come easily. Not with sand brushes at least. So from her many years on the job as a pool attendant, my friend Tracy realized what this house really needed was a power washer. It was quite easy to convince Marilyn, an very energetic dietician, to hop in the car and search for a power washer to rent. It was even easier to convince her of the matter when she realized she'd be cruising Chef Street in the Land Rover we borrowed from my friend Emilie's Mom. This Land Rover was about Marilyn's dream car, and she made no bones about loving every second of sitting in its luscious leather interior. I will have to admit though, she looked quite dashing when posing in pictures next to it.

After quite a few negotiations with the local power wash renters, we finally settled on True Value as they were the only ones who seemed to understand that most people don't use a power washer on a daily basis. Unfortunately the old rental hadn't been used in some time and was in need of some gas and tweaks. The good thing is we realized so much at the True Value so help was right on hand. Help is exactly what we got too from everyone's favorite local handyman, Mr. Ernie and his assistant Anthony. Well Mr. Ernie shouted his expertise to Anthony, who worked on the washer directly. You see, Tracy was all too quickly informed by Mr. Ernie that he was was unable to work the equipment himself because he had an artificial heart. She knew this was the truth too because he proudly displayed his donor recipient card to verify. So finally, after taking all of the brunt instead of the other assistant Leslie (you see Mr. Ernie takes everything out on Anthony, not Leslie), Anthony nursed our little rental back to health.

It was a darn good thing this washer was revved up and ready to go too, because it wasn't just the dirt on the paint that needed a good sharp blast of water. Once back and in the yard, and after a minor mishap of Margaret dropping the washer on her legs while getting it out of the car, we had a rather large visitor from a snake. Not quite the outdoorswomen, Emilie and I immediately started yelling "snake!" Soon Marilyn, who we had hoped was used to dealing with such visitors, joined is in jumping up and down and yelling. Little did we know the seventeen members of a church organization from Northwest Missouri State University that were at the same site that day, were pros in identifying snakes. It was two of the girls, who apparently handle snakes on a daily basis, that informed us we needed to clear the area immediately. We had a rattler on our hands. Well the city girls we are , we couldn't resist trying to get a closer look. Not obeying orders with the snake orders that the area was apparently contaminated did not go over too well, and things with the Northwest Missouri group remained on rocky waters for the rest of the day. We decided to take to finishing painting Marilyn's doors and frames inside the house, while they decided to sword fight with the sand brush sticks Marilyn had just purchased that day.

The power washer did work like a charm though. Thirty years of dirt washed away almost instantly, and we got the exterior ready to be primed. Marilyn was so excited with our ingenuity in the project that she proclaimed us as "her girls." Such a bond made it hard for us to learn that we were going to begin work on a new site the next day. Alas though, at the end of the day we had to return to our hotel on Rampart Street. A street where just that morning at 9 a.m. with the bars still going strong, we were greeted by a cross-dressing solicitor dressed in black see-through mesh. No, it really was not long at all to figure out New Orleans was full of characters and stories. Just all in a day's worth of work.