Wore Out

by

In a good way.

I rode my bicycle all over the place today.

Eiffel Tower

Eiffel Tower

I rode right past the Eiffel Tower, but I did not stop to take any photographs close to it.  The area was over run with tourist buses and taxi cabs.

I took the bridge at Pont Alma and got to the right side of the Seine between Pont Alma and Pont d’Alexandre.

Pulling off into the green way I propped the bike up for a few “I was here” shots.

Ride By Tower

Ride by Tower

 

 

 

 

 

Pont d'Alexandre

Pont d’Alexandre

 

First a kiss

First a kiss

 

 

 

 

The landscape was beautiful.

There were many historical monuments and art.

Oh, the art.

 

Then I got lost.

Oh good grief did I get lost.

And I was not in a neighborhood that was full of art.

I was by Gare du Nord and the canal.

I had a moment when I was crossing over the bridge by the tracks when I thought, maybe I will stop and take a few photographs.

Then I thought, sure, I will take some photographs of getting mugged.

There were too many people out, too many people who did not look particularly friendly.

I kept going.

I was lost for longer than I would like to admit.  I over shot the mark to my turn off, then when I wanted to get back to it, I over shot it again.

If only I could see Sacre Coeur!

I sent up a little prayer.

I realized that I had pin dropped my address on my Iphone map in the wrong locale which was part of the overshot the mark problem.

I was, however, nowhere near a place that was giving me service on my phone and as I stick out anyway, add to that a glitter speed demon of a bike and the tattoos and the Iphone, I was rife for being tackled and having my possessions striped.

All is not pretty monuments in Paris.

I turned another corner, I could feel the wind pick up, the rain was coming, I could smell it in the air and I could feel the coolness ahead of the clouds.  I just wanted to get to a place I was familiar with.

I looked up and there!

Off in the distance, quite a bit further than I thought it should be, man did I get turned around, was Sacre Couer.

Sacre Couer

Sacre Couer

I had never been so happy to see the church on the hill as I was at that moment.

I was also way past my lunch time and seeing the church so close to my home, my tummy growled at me.

It was three o’clock when I got back to the apartment.

I had left my point of departure at 1:15p.m.

Only took me a half hour to get from the apartment to my original destination and an hour and forty-five to get back.  The round trip mileage should have been about ten miles, as it was I probably doubled that with all the additional riding I did.

It was a good day for a ride, however, no rain until about an hour and a half ago.

When I got home and threw my late lunch together I realized I had forgotten to turn on my phone after leaving my commitment and I had a message from a number I did not recognize.

This is not altogether that unusual, however, I suspected it had something to do with the job I had responded to.

I was correct in my assumption.

I do not know what it was that stole over me at that moment, but the greatest reluctance to even listen to it sprung up.  I breathed.

Make lunch, get some food, you are worn out and it was exhausting being that lost.

Overwhelming really.

I had a sudden craving for a nap.

Breathe, I remonstrated to myself yet again.

If it’s the right thing it will be the right thing.

If not, you will know.

Just take the action and let go of the results.

I picked up the phone.

I listened to the message.  I called back and left a message.

I got a phone call five minutes later.

Six minutes later I had an interview, for this evening, at five pm, an hour and a half from that moment.

Holy bats.

I put down the phone.  I plated my lunch.  I put on a coffee.  I normally would not have made another big cafe au lait at this time of day, not that I am opposed, but normally if I have a coffee in the afternoon it is a little guy.

I felt tired, dejected from being lost, overwhelmed by the city, and hungry.  I did not feel like pulling on my big girl pants and going to an interview in a neighborhood I had never been to before, in an hour and a half!

Ok.

Take it moment to moment.

First eat lunch.  Then have your coffee.  Then look up the address on your phone.

I mapped out the Metro.  Programmed the address into my Iphone, I may not have phone service, but thank god for this little map application, it has saved my behind a number of times now. It was not going to be as challenging to get to the interview as I had thought.

OH MY GOD.

I have tattoos.

Newsflash, I gently reminded myself, if they don’t like me because of my tattoos, they are not the people who I want to work for and some one else will be.

It is just about taking the action and letting go of the results.

As the case may be, the mom said, “you’re from San Francisco!?  That’s where my husband and I met.” And crazy of crazy, where had she lived, Dorland Street.

Dorland!

That was a sign.

Ah.

Big sigh of relief.

They have seen tattoos before.

They knew what Burning Man was, despite not having gone, they knew, so when I said I had nannied at Burning Man, they did not look at me with big questions in their eyes, rather, the look was one of deepening respect.

“That must have been quite the experience, something to write about for sure,” said mom.

Yes, indeed.

I told them I was a writer.

Turns out so is mom and dad, in addition to what they do for work.  Which I did not quite understand, but was more than obvious that they do well for themselves, the apartment was on the six floor, the top of the building, in a very well-kept neighborhood in the 7th.

The kids were smashing.

I got a long really well with them and before the interview was over they were both crawling in and out of my lap and I had a tickle session with both of them, was given stickers, asked to come back soon to play, and shown art projects that were being worked on, spoke French to them, shook hands, did an Eskimo kiss with the little girl, showed off my screen saver on my phone–my two monkeys, the Bug and the Reno–and had pretty much nailed down the job.

I will be working New Years Eve.

How funny, I was baby  sitting last New Years Eve as well.

I will have three monkeys, the brother and sister and their cousin who will be visiting–a seven-year-old boy, five-year old girl, and their three-year old cousin.

Mom is e-mailing me the dates she would like covered during the holidays.

I made it clear I was available for more.

It felt really good.

It’s not enough to live on, but it’s enough to get me through until the something that is enough turns up.

One little step at a time.

I left with a googly-eyed sticker on my knee, a huge hug and kiss from the sister, and a serious, very formal hand shake from the brother–who then broke out in a grin when I shook his proffered hand just as serious and added to it a formal bow.

“Come back soon!”  The little girl said.

I think I will be.

 

 

 

 

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