TBD Paxton

Well, the time has come for an update on our litte one. I know that's what most of you want to read anyway... TBD, as we have dubbed the child until we know more information and are therefore able to supply a name, will not be TBD for much longer. We have an appointment on Thursday morning to find out if we will add another boy to the ranks of the Paxton/Ownby clan or if we will bring an alien into those two families, otherwise known as a girl. For those of you unaware, there have been no girls in the Paxton line for several generations, and in my generation of the Ownby clan, the girls are outnumbered 3 to 1. Anyway, the important thing is that you only have two days left to vote on what you think Baby Paxton is!! So be sure to cast those votes quickly!

On another note (and in case any of you are wavering in your vote... though I'm not sure if this will help you decide or not), I have further information on Baby Paxton. Not only is TBD quite active, and has been for the last few weeks, but we have discovered a way to incite movement in the child... Latin music. Yup, that's right, our little white baby (and likely blonde-haired and blue-eyed, too) has got some definite Latin flair (I guess TBD still considers Houston home?). Rodrigo & Gabriela and the Spanish Harlem Orchestra have TBD either dancing or drumming away (we haven't decided which), regardless of the location or time of day... At least TBD shouldn't be a boring baby!

As for me, because I know I will simply have to answer this question via multiple emails from many of you if I don't share the update, I am hanging in there. It is definitely easier to put up with the nausea now that I can feel the baby moving; it certainly makes it feel more "real." And, thankfully, with some new medicine and a little more routine to life in France (it's taking awhile, but we're getting there), the nausea is definitely not gone, but much more manageable. I'm at 19 weeks today, so maybe there will be grace and I'll make it through the second half of this pregnancy without getting sick... We'll see. In the meantime, we are THRILLED about TBD and cannot wait to see the ultrasound on Thursday. Thank you for all your prayers!

Friends and Family

As charming as Christmas trees, lights, carols, and presents can be, I firmly believe that what truly make the holidays fun and special are friends and family. And, thankfully, we are very blessed to have fabulous ones. While I am sad to say that we only had one of each for our holiday season, our visiting friend and family made our season bright.

As I mentioned previously, Megan (yes, my former student and a dear friend) came to visit the week before Christmas. Despite my vomiting in the metro on the way to pick her up from the airport and a couple of days during her trip where I couldn’t leave the house due to nausea, we had a wonderful trip. There’s nothing like being with someone you love when you feel like crap (poetic, huh?). Anyway, I can’t express enough gratitude for how loving and patient she was with me… I am very blessed by her friendship and was very blessed by her visit.

We still managed to get in quite a whirlwind of Parisian sights: the Eiffel Tower,

the Rodin Museum (home of “the Thinker”), Napoleon’s Tomb, the Bastille and the Marais area (complete with the Jewish quarter, and no, despite Chris’s encouragement we did not break out into Israeli dancing in the streets…), Notre Dame,

Saint Chapelle (a 13^th century chapel with incredible stained glass telling the entire story of Scripture), the Conciergerie (a former palace and later prison where people were kept on their way to the guillotine), the Louvre (home of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, among thousands of other treasures), the Orsay Museum (housing famous impressionists like Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Van Gogh), the Tuileries Gardens and the Orangerie (home of Monet’s greatest Water Lilies), the Place de la Concord (where blood ran in the streets from the masses slaughtered under the guillotine),

the Arc de Triomphe (Napoleon’s ridiculously gigantic attempt to compensate for something), the Champs Elysees (home of Paris’s most elite shopping), and the Montmartre area (topped by the white domes of Sacre Coeur and bohemian home of the Moulin Rouge).

Wheh! I’m exhausted just recounting it all! We also managed two excursions outside of Paris (mentioned in the snow post): Versailles and Chartres. So… come visit me in Paris and I won’t let you miss anything!

The day after Megan left, my dear brother came to visit. Rhys has been living in Naples, Italy since July of this year, and he has not been able to see anyone in the family since he moved. Additionally, the poor guy has missed every Christmas with family since he joined the army over three years ago. Needless to say, we were THRILLED to see him, and so glad that it worked out for him to visit, especially because he could not get enough leave to go all the way to the US… but a trip to Paris for five days was easy! Even more fabulous, he came bearing gifts from his stores on base that carry American items: like chips and salsa. We were SO excited to have some chips and salsa… I can’t even explain.

Anyway, Rhys is not quite the tourist that Megan is (and don’t worry, I cater to each guest’s individual desires ;-), but we still managed to have a great time. We did lots of wandering around the city (being silly, of course),

and we did see the Eiffel tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre, Montmartre, and the Arc de Triomphe (think we look alike much??).

Plus, we also went into Paris’s catacombs – quite a creepy experience. You spend about an hour more than a hundred feet underground, walking through dimly lit tunnels,

most of which are lined with the bones of hundreds of thousands of Parisians taken from all the cemeteries in Paris in the late 1700’s when they decided that the cemeteries were full and sanitation was bad. Since there were tunnels all under the city from the mining that had taken place over the centuries, it seemed like a natural place to move all those bones.

The warning at the entrance to the tombs is great: “Stop! This is the empire of the dead.”

We also found a couple of English-speaking pubs (one British and one Canadian) to watch Liverpool games – a very important resource that we had not found before his arrival; thanks, Rhys! We spent one evening seeing Tom Harrel and his quintet playing jazz… Jazz in Paris – it’s worth it. And, of course, we had one solid 2 ½ hour French meal, which began with INCREDIBLE foie gras de canard (duck) and onion soup (Notice here it is merely "onion soup" rather than French onion soup... so what about French doors? Do they just call them doors? Food for thought...).

We had a blast, and I LOVE my big brother. I pray that you all had similar fun and joy with your friends and family over this Christmas season.

Let It Snow!

I have to confess that I was a bit sad a few weeks ago to see fun snow pictures all over the blogs of my Houstonian friends. It snows so infrequently in Houston, and although I have lived there basically my whole life, I somehow manage to miss it almost every time… But God was gracious and gave us a white pre-Christmas here in Paris.

I’m not sure if you heard, but there was quite a lot of snow. So much, in fact, that the Eiffel Tower was actually shut down for several hours one afternoon – something they almost never do because that thing is France’s biggest money maker. The overhead is almost nothing (think about it: it’s outdoors, there’s nothing really to renovate, and they’ve already put in the heavy-duty elevators that take people to the top), and tourists from all over the world pay exorbitant prices all day every day just to experience the biting winds at several hundred feet in the air. Now that I’ve said that, I must admit that I have been up in the tower at least four times, and I thought it was worth it every time. But that’s neither here or there. The important thing is, we had a LOT of snow (at least on Paris terms).

It began on the morning of Thursday, December 17, with enough snow to cover balconies and cars, but not too much staying on the ground (you know how it is in big cities… enough snow to cover the ground is rare). As the day went on, however, the snow even began to stick to the ground, and it stayed for a good four or five days. Our neighborhood was so charming in the snow:

Even more magnificent was my all-time favorite site in Paris (and possibly in the world) – Notre Dame. Unfortunately, I was home sick that day (when oh when will the pregnancy nausea go away?!?!), but Megan dutifully took some beautiful pictures of the great cathedral draped in snowy white:

The following day, the Tuileries Gardens were still a snowy wonderland, and we definitely felt the below-freezing temperatures as you can see by our pink cheeks and frozen smiles:

Sunday was really breathtaking, though, as we made our way an hour and a half outside of Paris to the little town of Chartres. Though Notre Dame de Paris is still my favorite cathedral I’ve ever seen, Notre Dame de Chartres definitely made an impression. In the late 1100’s, the church on that location burned down, burning with it (or so the people assumed) the “veil of Mary” – the robe she had supposedly worn when giving birth to Jesus. Much to their surprise, they actually found the veil unharmed when sorting through the rubble, a miracle that inspired great devotion and excitement in the people of Chartres. As a result, they built almost an entirely new cathedral on the same spot (a couple of walls were still standing after the fire) in a mere sixty years – unheard of for the construction of a cathedral; most take centuries. Even more incredible is that this cathedral, finished mid-13^th century, still contains 80% of the original stained glass, the greatest amount of Gothic stained glass anywhere. It was beautiful, and the town wrapped in a blanket of snow only added to the enchantment:

Finally, on Megan’s last day to visit, Tuesday, December 22, we went to Versailles, about 45 minutes outside of Paris. While by that point most of the snow in Paris had melted, Versailles was still covered, especially the chateau. I have been to the chateau three other times over the past ten years, but this was truly a new experience. The incredible gardens of Versailles, complete with hundreds of fountains and a man-made canal, were a beautiful but eerie wasteland:

Although the snow was just a few days early (it was officially all gone by Christmas), it was a welcome anomaly. And, since we don’t drive here in Paris, the only inconvenience was having to walk cautiously on the icy sidewalks – a small price to pay.

Shopping, Parisian Style

Now before you laugh, let me explain myself. As ridiculously stereotypical as it sounds, the French really do buy baguettes like this daily and carry them around. Of course, in their defense, by "carry them around" I mean that they take them home. However, since most people in Paris walk or take the metro, to take something home means to carry it around in public, sometimes for quite a distance. That said, it is highly entertaining to me to think that they live up to such a silly stereotype, and naturally, I joined the bandwagon with enthusiasm. Few things make you feel more French than carrying around a daily baguette.

Even better, we have discovered the Parisian's secret to gourmet, fresh food. At first, I was quite befuddled at how the French, who are notoriously obsessed with good food (anyone seen Julie & Julia? If not, I HIGHLY recommend it) managed to survive without HEB. They have grocery stores, sure, but they are small, have a limited stock, and in my humble opinion fall FAR short of the glory known as a "big, new HEB" - a place where, as I have told many, angels sing to me when I enter. No joke. Honestly, there are a few larger stores (though the bigger the grocery store, then more expensive it seems to be), but even those do not compare to the beautiful mega stores we have in the great state of Texas. Fortunately, when we moved into our apartment, my sweet landlord told me of an "outdoor market" that takes place every Thursday and Saturday morning, right around the corner from our apartment. There, in two long rows which stretch along the boulevard by our house towards the Eiffel Tower (and yes, you can see it poised above the market though, unfortunately, I missed it in this picture), I have found what I was missing:

Here, all the local inhabitants come with their "chariots" or "caddies," a little cart on wheels that you pull behind you, and do their semi-weekly grocery shopping. Here, butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers come to sell their wares. Ok, there are not really candlestick makers, but there are stands selling meat, fish, breads, cheeses, pastries, and LOADS of fabulously fresh fruits and vegetables. Better yet, the people behind each counter KNOW their stuff. I am dreaming of the day when my French is good enough (I'm making progress, but it's slow) to tickle the ego of the butcher by asking him what the best method of cooking the langue de vache (cow's tongue) or entrecote de boeuf (a cut of beef from its side, though I'm not of its US equivalent) and listen to his experienced response. He will hold the rest of the line, telling me how to cook it and what to pair it with... I know because I've been the next person in line and waited while he spouted off his expertise. I'm not quite ready to tackle that because I'm sure he would be able to read on my face that I could only catch half of his meaning, but someday... Speaking of which, if anyone finds a book that includes pictures and explanations of French meats (their sources, cuts, and meaning), PLEASE let me know. Actually, one organized by type of food (cheeses, vegetables, meats, etc.) would be glorious. I can use a dictionary, but I have to look up each word as I come to it, rather than being able to study the science (or art, as they might call it) topically. Keep me posted. I must admit that the butchers are both the most interesting and the most disturbing:

But for those needing more aesthetically pleasing sights at the market, there are stands with gorgeous produce and fresh flowers:

I am definitely warming up to this method of shopping (despite the below-freezing temperatures at the market the past few weeks). Just for educational purposes, I should note that there are real shops for each of these things, as well. There are boulangeries/patiseries (bakeries), boucheries (butchers), charcuteries (delicatessens), fromageries (cheese shops), and so on. However, to shop at all of those different places is a day-long process, whereas to shop at the market takes an hour or so and is SO much fun. It is rather crowded (the first picture above is more true to its nature; the rest were taken late in the day as it began to clear out a bit), but it is worth the bustle. The food is unbeatable, the scene is memorable, and the people are so stereotypical that I can't help but smile each time. This, my friends, is true appreciation (admittedly borderline-obsession) of food.

Back Online

So sorry for the long silence... Here is the run-down on what's been happening here (and why I haven't posted anything for a while):

December 11 - moved into the new apartment (hooray!) which did not yet have internet.

December 14 - finally got banking and cell phones set up (complicated...)

December 15 - Megan came to visit (yay!)

December 23 - Megan left :( and our internet boxes, cords, etc. finally arrived... with all instructions in French.

December 24 - Rhys came to visit (yay!)

December 26 - we attempted to set up the internet and ran into some trouble.

December 30 - Rhys left (I just took him to the metro... sad!) and we now have internet, but still no wireless.

That's the boring version, but I promise to post more exciting news with pictures shortly.

The Paris Metro

As much as I love Paris’ public transportation, it does have its downsides. I should note that I have a fair perspective on metro systems, too, since I have used a metro (or a similar equivalent) in Washington DC, Rome, Madrid, London, and Amsterdam. With those comparisons, I must say that I find Paris’s metro, hands down, the most efficient, cost effective (for the rider), convenient, reliable, and clear. It even ranks among the top two or three cleanest in my experience. But… let me say that Paris metros and pregnant women are NOT a good match.

While I have to defend the French in arguing that the stereotype of the “smelly Frenchman” is not really accurate, I have certainly had my own aromatic experience while riding the metro lately. I also should admit that in my previous 4 trips to Paris, I occasionally noticed some smells in the metro, but for the most part did not find them particularly distracting or even, at times, noticeable. But now, when I descend into the metro station, a mixture of urine, stale air, and food (if there is a stand in the station selling the usual freshly baked bread and pain au chocolate, aka chocolate croissants) arrests my nostrils. Thankfully (though this is arguable), upon turning a corner, a breeze is often blowing from some distant, above-ground entrance/exit, bringing with it the smells of the Paris streets—air, exhaust, and cigarettes. Then, upon entering the train, such an olfactory melee faces me that my nose actually feels confused. When the train starts, the lovely scent of a group of sweaty junior-high boys standing in the car ahead of me smacks me in the face, but thankfully that smell dissipates as the acceleration of the car evens out. At which point, I can quickly smell the perfume of the little, gray-haired granny seated next to me in her sturdy black pumps, stockings, mid-calf length navy cashmere coat, and silk scarf—usually something mature and musky. However, as soon as she opens her mouth to yawn, I smell her onions and garlic from lunch. Then the car takes an abrupt turn, and the man standing above us reaches out his right arm to catch the handle and steady himself, pointing his armpit towards me and sending a distinct scent of (thankfully!) some kind of soap similar to Lever 2000, I think. As the car begins to slow, the hair product of the I’m-so-cool-I-work-hard-each-morning-to-give-myself-bedhead teenager tickles the end of my nose and puts a bad taste in my mouth.

The doors open. A woman squeezes by to exit—fish for lunch. A young mother steps on with her infant—baby powder. A middle-aged man moves to the empty seat behind me—definitely body odor. Not sure I can stay in this seat much longer. A young couple seats themselves across from me—Angel (a very distinct perfume in my opinion), or something very similar. A well-dressed businessman with his briefcase takes the seat left empty by the granny who exited at the last stop—new leather, though I’m not sure if it’s his shoes, which are plenty shiny, or his briefcase, in which I could almost see my reflection clearly enough to put on my make up. Oh when will my stop come…………..???

Finally, the doors open; I hold my breath as I force my way through the crowd at the door to the open platform; I step about three steps away from the metro doors, and I take a deep breath of… urine, stale air, and food. Oh well, at least if I want to vomit now because of it, it won’t be in someone else’s lap.

Home Sweet Home

Praise the Lord! I think we have a place to live!! Thank you all for your prayers. Lord willing, we will be moving into a beautiful Parisian apartment this Friday. Please don't judge it based on my photography skills... but so many of you have asked for pictures, I did my best. Here is our lovely street:

Though the bedrooms are rather small on US standards (and the bedding may not be my style), they're huge on Parisian standards (trust me, the fact that there is room to move around the bed is a good sign!):
The entryway has great charm: And it opens to the dining room/living room (which are connected) via beautiful french doors. I especially love the big windows with their picturesque views of the other Haussmann buildings (the style of Parisian buildings from the late 19th century) in the neighborhood:
Additionaly, I love the kitchen. Again, a bit small on US terms, but large, renovated, and beautiful on Parisian terms... And very functional: Probably the best part of all is that this apartment has BOTH a washer AND a dryer, and they have their own room so I can close the door, and that room has further storage space... It's heaven:

Ultimately, we are so thankful not only for such a beautiful place to live (on a lovely and quiet street, right by a park, about 3 minutes from grocery stores and plenty of other shopping, 10 minutes from the Eiffel Tower and Napolean's Tomb, 20 minutes from the Seine), but especially that the process was so quick and painless. Our realtor and the relocation company have been wonderful, and we are scheduled to move in this Friday - only one week after we found the apartment. Praise the Lord!! Now if someone would only build a Sonic down the street...