Fairly Un-French

Today I stuffed my face with croissants that were not good, thereby violating Pillier No. 6 and my better judgment.

But I was So. Hungry. Breastfeeding requires quite a few calories at this stage, and it often leaves me suddenly starving. And since I've been talking about the French so much, you know, croissants! But the Starbucks I visited didn't have any. So I settled for the kind you buy from Safeway's bakery section... for $5. And that's not for one or two croissants - it's for approximately 12. It's safe to say that any croissant that costs less than $0.50 is not of the high caliber to which I'm trying to hold my food this year.

Did you know that every time you eat a crap croissant a French mime cries (silently)?

Resolution Fail. Or possibly just Resolution Room for Improvement Learning Moment? Or Fail. Yeah, Fail.

Though for real, it was a learning moment. As I stuffed the sub-par pastry into my sinful gob, I didn't feel good about my choice. But let's be clear - I still ate a second one, anyway. Because breastfeeding, blah, blah, blah.

Now I'm going to sit back and survey the snowy blanket that has dropped onto my lawn, and pray to St. Martin de Porres (saint of the broom, and therefore cleanliness) that our cleaning ladies reschedule tomorrow. I haven't had enough time to pick up for them. You heard me.

Santé!

"Be More French."

I haven't been to Paris since Easter 2011, but the trip stayed with me. Any place where one can drink wine that is simultaneously cheaper than water and also better than a $30 bottle in the States obviously has its priorities in line.

I remember walking. Everywhere. I remember long meals where the bustle of the cafe stood in stark contrast to the leisurely pace at which the waiter would bring the bill. I remember lean people in simple, interesting outfits. And baguettes. SO MANY EXOTIC, FOREIGN CARBS.

I also unfortunately remember being grossly underprepared for a medical situation, and wishing I'd paid as much attention to casual French as I had to learning a few pieces of conversational German.

There was also Disneyland Paris. I know. I went to Paris and then spent a day in Disneyland, but hear me out on this one. It was smaller. But it was better. The size of that park was minuscule when compared to the Magic Kingdom in Florida with which I have become intimately acquainted. But every ride was somehow more detailed, a little faster and more fun. 

It's the attention to detail and inscrutable focus on the small pleasures of life that exemplify "Being French" in my mind. And it's the basis for my next year.

My resolution is to "Be More French." Or possibly "Be Frencher."(Because poor grammar is sometimes even better than proper grammar.)

And of course, such a lofty resolution requires a few sub-resolutions. Pillars, if you will, to hold up the main ideal. (And it is now that I realize I have spent far too much time marketing an institute of higher education.) Let's get a good start on this whole thing and call them "Pilliers."

Or at least Google Translate tells me that's correct. Whatever. ("Le Whatever"?)

.:Les Pilliers:.

1. Be the best damn Mom I can be to my daughter without feeling guilty for deciding to go back to work. (Not French, but the most important Pillier I have.)

2. Learn some conversational French through Rosetta Stone.

3. Learn to bake and properly enjoy my own baguette.

4. Walk more. Everywhere.

5. Part with unnecessary things cluttering up my house and preventing me from truly relaxing.

6. Only wear, eat and do things that give me great happiness.

7. Eat off of real plates for every meal, at a table.

8. No more than I really need. Food. Clothes. Things.

9. Blog about No. 1 through 8. Reporting back keeps things honest.

Wish me luck. Santé!