Posts Tagged ‘Garnier Opera House’

Slight Change Of Plans

November 25, 2015

But so slight.

I’m still going to Paris.

Despite the sharp inhalation of breath my mother took when I told her on the phone today.

“I bought the tickets before the attacks mom,” I said, I could feel her getting instantly wound up.

I was also walking my bicycle into the garage at work, so there was not a lot of room for conversation on the topic.

And I hadn’t called my mom to talk about Paris.

Rather my eldest aunt who passed yesterday was my reason for calling.

I didn’t know my aunt that well.

Suffice to say that I didn’t know a lot of my family all that well, but I do have fond memories and I do remember thinking when I was younger that she was kind.

Perhaps I don’t have a recollection of thinking that thought exactly, but that is what comes to mind when I remember her.

Thanksgiving or Christmas at her house a year when my grandparents, for whatever reason, had decided they did not want the hassle of having the whole family over for the holiday.

I recall there being a lot of conversation about where it would be and it ended up being at my aunts house.

It was an oddly warm Christmas, ah yes, it was Christmas, and I remember playing outside in the back with one of my cousins.

Tether ball, I think.

Oddly enough I got along with them really well, in fact I thought that of all my cousins the three daughters of my aunts were my favorite.

Two were fraternal twins.

And I was fascinated by the fact that they did not look at all identical.

As I thought twins should look.

Of course this was before I know what fraternal and identical twins were, but twins, we had them in the family and that was special.

I sort of felt that their family was special in general.

They seemed to have escaped the lash of weirdness that was on my family.

I was thinking about it today and though there were more than one or two black sheep in the family, I think my mom sort of took the cake for a while.

I definitely felt that we were the blackest of the black sheep in the family and that my cousins, well, they were normal, well-adjusted, sweet girls.

They each had their own rooms and the house was cozy and warm and nice.

Middle class.

White Wisconsin.

Nice.

My immediate family lived so far below the poverty line that when I learned what the poverty line was I was shocked to realize how poor I had been growing up.

I mean.

Fucking poor.

And I’m not upset about that.

I didn’t know the difference.

I don’t recall thinking I was suffering.

I mean.

I think I just thought our family was weird.

But I had no clue.

A little grown up time of my own.

A lot of perspective and distance and yes.

I can see the screaming dysfunction at work in the family dynamic.

There is still dysfunction.

But then again.

What the hell is normal?

There is no normal.

I was chatting with a dear friend on the phone earlier and he said, “normal is a setting on a dryer.”

Ayup.

And usually I still have to add minutes to the normal setting.

There is no normal.

And.

If there is.

I’m not so certain I want any of it.

I do want the fantasy of doing what I am getting to do after  I have the reality of doing the heavy lifting, with my brain that is.

I got the tickets to the ballet!

My darling poulette bought them online today and I was mistaken, it is not La Bayadere we are going to see.

Nope.

We are going to see some modern ballet.

Which is just as exciting if not more so.

I’m going to be accompanied by dear sweet people whom I love and adore and I am going to get dressed up, like a princess, and I am going to the Garnier Opera House in Paris at Christmas, Wednesday, December 23rd, at 7:30 p.m. to see the ballet.

Luckiest girl in the world.

I also talked with my friend about having dinner with my Parisian friend, I mean, who better will know where to go for a nice meal before the opera?

I’m so excited.

And yes.

I got the good seats.

We are sitting in the loge.

1ères loges de coté 22

Translation: BOX SEATS!

Merry Christmas baby.

Pack something nice to wear.

There are four sets of box seats in the Palace Garnier and we are on the first, premier, of the balcony, I wonder should I purchase some opera glasses?

Bwahahaha.

Nah.

I won’t need to because we will be so close to the stage.

Box seats.

I am over the moon and so glad I agreed to splurge on the more expensive tickets.

I am grateful that I get to spend the money to allow myself and my friend to have an amazing experience together and to also have my new friend from school there too.

My God I am grateful.

So grateful.

I am also grateful that tomorrow is my Friday.

Yay four day weekend.

So much work to be done.

There is more work for me to do on my days off than I have on my days on.

Although, arguably I could say that it’s a balance this week as there has been more work at work, grandparents are visiting for the holiday.

Which on one hand is fantastic, the boys love their grandparents.

And on the other tends to throw a little monkey wrench in our routines and schedules and the boys also get to have a lot of treats with the grandparents.

Ah sugar.

My nap time nemesis.

I should have had some quiet time today with them, but they were too wound up so instead, I employed them in the kitchen and they helped me make dinner: sushi rice, wild king salmon marinated in lemons and olive oil with spices and lime zest–baked in the oven, roasted brussels sprouts with garlic and brown butter, and organic strawberries for dessert with sliced apples from the farmers market.

 

The boys helped me to squeeze the lemons and mix the spices and herbs in the marinade for the fish, they also sprinkled love on top of everything.

Love is the best spice.

They were so proud of the meal.

And told their grandparents how hard they cooked everything.

It was adorable.

And the adorable train will roll out of town for me soon.

Where I will be departing for the burying my head in my homework part of the holiday.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” The mom asked.

“Homework.” I replied.

That.

And dreaming about the ballet.

In Paris.

What am I going to wear?!

Hashtag.

Luxury problems.

 

Advertisements

Magic Monday

November 24, 2015

Mondays are not usually magic.

I certainly did not feel magical getting out of bed this morning.

Sleep in another half hour, hell another hour, my brain whispered to me.

I had awoken a few minutes before my alarm went off and when I reached for my phone to see what time it was I winced.

The alarm was going to go off in ten minutes.

I was hoping I still had hours to go before I had to get up–the gloomy, fogging morning, foiled me into thinking it was far earlier than it was.

Ten minutes.

I want to sleep for ten more hours.

However, I swung my legs out and flipped back the covers and got up and got going.

Laundry, bed making, kneeling, praying, staying connected to my primary purpose, doing the deal, saying the words, asking for direction and to be of service.

Breakfast, clothes on, laundry getting folded and put away, coffee, morning pages, scooter securing–I parked it the garage last night, my housemate was away and I just felt like having it in the garage and not have to hassle with locking it up last night, but I had to have it back outside this morning.

Then the hair and makeup.

In case you ever need some cheering up on a Monday, stick some flowers in your head and be the sunshine that you need to carry you through the day.

Works for me anyhow.

Then the reading.

A full hour before I left for work.

Hopped on my bicycle.

And then magic started happening.

Really, when I acknowledge it, the magic happened when I got up the hour earlier than I wanted to to do the reading for school, but that’s not the kind of magic that’s sexy to write about, that’s only magic to me.

However.

I had the unicorn bicycle commute.

I have only had it one other time in the history of riding my bicycle to this job.

The unicorn looks like this–no full stops, not foot off my pedals, always in motion.

I didn’t do a full stop the entire way, I never put down a foot, it was smooth sailing all the way from start to finish.

46th and Judah to 20th and Lexington.

In 34 minutes.

That’s 6.5 miles in traffic, lights, stop signs, intersections, cars, bicycles, pedestrians, garbage trucks, police horses, nannies out pushing double strollers, Uber drivers, cabs, buses, and me.

I had the pricking in my thumbs early on in the ride that it was happening.

I can’t say when, but it was about when I coasted through the double stop traffic light at 18th and 19th.  Normally I catch one or the other, it’s pretty inevitable, but I coasted right through.

I had the feeling way before that though and thought I was nuts to think it and I should not at that early stage of the ride, must have been around 33rd or 34th and Lincoln that I felt it happening.

And.

It did.

I really am astounded at how it happened.

I got to work with so much time that I did a full set of stretches and I took some sexy bike porn pix of my whip and posted them up to Instagram.

My girl’s still got it.

Then I bounced into work.

Happy.

Joyous.

Free.

Ready for Monday.

I checked in with the mom about the boys and the holiday week school schedule–they’re out for the holiday at noon tomorrow, plus the grandparents are visiting–and asked what I could do to help out and be of service.

And.

Did they get my spring semester school schedule?

They had requested my school dates as soon as I had them and I sent them off last night before I could forget.

Yes.

The mom said, we got them and we wanted to extend your contract out from January through the end of May, we’ll need to check in at that point, as our summer plans are up in the air, but we also wanted to let you know we’re giving you a raise on January first.

A raise!

What?!

$1.50 more an hour.

I was floored.

It was a totally unexpected conversation and such a gift to be acknowledged.

So grateful.

I also conferred with the dad that I would help out extra on December 4th–the mom’s birthday, and I would work a night shift for them as well so they could go out for a birthday dinner.

I happily said yes.

I don’t mind working the extra hours, a few extra dollars for France.

A few more Euro in the pot.

Which I can use.

Since.

Heh.

I’m buying tickets to the ballet.

!

My friend from my cohort texted me this afternoon at work and asked if I would be interested in either going to an opera or the ballet at the Garnier Opera House.

It houses the Opera National de Paris and the ballet.

I shall be seeing La Bayadere, the last ballet by Rudolf Nureyev.

I am over the moon.

And I’m going to be broke, because I said, fuck it, you only live once and when I chatted with my friend about booking the tickets she said you want the decent ones or the really good seats?

I said give me the good ones.

So depending on what she books I’ll be reimbursing her around 300 Euro, or whatever that translates to in American dollars.

But fuck it.

I don’t care.

I’m going to the ballet.

In Paris.

At the opera house.

At Christmas.

I will be there with people I adore.

And.

“And you will get to dress up like a princess!” My darling Parisian friend texted me back.

Oh my God.

What the hell am I going to wear.

As though.

Oh my God.

I need me a dress for the ballet.

Actually.

I have a dress.

I have a really pretty black dress that I ordered on ModCloth a while ago coming.  I had to return it for a different size, but it should be here in time for the trip.

I may need new heels if I choose that one.

Or.

I will wear the holiday dress I bought last year for my ex’s holiday party.

Who relayed to me tonight in a text that he was sorry he had not said good bye to me, he needed to bounce out.

“Seeing you was kind of weird.”

Then.

“The only discomfort I felt was still being attracted to you.”

“You looked great.”

Why thank you sir.

That was nice to hear, after the fact.

It had been a little awkward to see him.

But.

We said hello.

We hugged.

I hadn’t expected to see him tonight, but there he was and it was good.

No drama.

No fuss.

That tiny bit of awkwardness and then, gone.

Magic Monday indeed.

What a way to start the week.

I wonder what is going to happen next.

I don’t doubt that it will be spectacular.

I still have a pricking in my thumbs.

And tickets to the ballet.

In Paris.

 


%d bloggers like this: