Année : 2004

Michael over at 2blowhards has written an interesting post about what he calls « one of the great Western cultural creations, The Frenchwoman ». His description of the French woman is mythical, of course, but his comparison with the other archetype, the American woman, is definitely worth a read. I particularly enjoyed the following passage:

Hey, does it seem to anyone else that we Americans are forever mixing up sex with dynamism? We seem to confound sex with, I dunno, aerobics. It’s a chore, if a healthy one; it’s proof that we’re competent as well as proof we’re having bustin’-out-style fun. Another thing I admire about the French is their ability to find what’s erotic in the moment, whatever that moment happens to be. The eroticism of … a lazy moment. The eroticism of an … exhausted moment. The eroticism of a … sad moment. And why not? Good lord: why make « feeling sexy » depend on « feeling good, » let alone « feeling dynamic »? Talk about limiting your opportunities.

This post is the second one on the subject of « Froggies ». His first post offered an « easy, out-of-date, and wildly-overgeneral four-step program for understanding the French. » Michael is a great fan of French movies and his posts are often full of fun film references.

Merci � tout le monde pour les bons voeux d’anniversaire! La chaleur de vos mots a rejoint celle de la temp�rature ambiante! J’ai pass� la journ�e dehors � me balancer (ou balanciner, comme on dit � Qu�bec), � lire et � r�vasser. M�me le voisin a coup� court � ses r�novations, faisant place au chant des oiseaux.

Pour ajouter au clich� de la journ�e parfaite, un de nos pommiers a d�cid� d’abandonner ses fleurs, de sorte que j’ai �t� baign�e d’une pluie de p�tales blanches et roses pendant toute la journ�e. Y’a des jours o� je vis vraiment dans un livre de Martine. Ne vous en faites pas, �a n’arrive pas tr�s souvent!

« Why don’t you go out tonight? », my beau told me yesterday morning. « Get out of the house for a while. But don’t take the car. » I don’t usually let him talk to me like that but since I knew this was the day before my birthday, I was happy to oblige.

I got up this morning and found a half-naked man ironing his shirt in the kitchen, surrounded by a crying cat. « There are robins in the backyard nagging the cat », he told me. « Spiff’s going nuts. » I picked up the cat and took him to the back patio doors to look at the birds together. This is when I found my birthday present, sitting beautifully under the lilac and the blooming apple trees. He even left me his ibook so that I don’t have to get back in the house when I want to work today or go online. And there was another gift hiding under the cushion.

I really, really wanted one of those wooden swings, but since we have so many things to buy for the house this year and freelancing is a bit scarce these days, I had sadly abandoned the idea. Now it’s mine, mine, mine!

I’m going to make myself an ice chai, grab my screenplay notes and get out of the house. Pardon me while I go swing outside for the rest of the day. Ready? Weeeeeeee!