Our lively neighbor the Gaul

Our lively neighbor the Gaul has strange ideas about what renters know of previous renters at that address.

Let me explain, in preface, that Thursday is the marathon day. Of teaching for Jonathan, and child care for me. He leaves at 7:30 am, teaches five classes, and gets back at 7:30 at night. I tend to save up errands for Thursdays, as Tristram gets awfully bored sitting around the apartment with me all day, and I get sick of reading Babybug over and over and over.

So, we went to the grocery store and the pharmacy and the post office, and along the way we bought an umbrella since it started raining on us. At the post office, I took back the package that, as far as I can tell, the previous tenant shipped to himself when he went home to Brazil but failed to address correctly. I mistakenly signed for it when the mailman showed up at the door while Tristram was fussing--it seems I cannot summon a single word of French when the French-speaking world unexpectedly shows up at my door, so I just smiled and signed. Then I realized I had committed a federal crime. So at the post office, the clerk demanded that I stay while he looked up the forwarding address this Mr. Gomes had registered, "in case the address wasn't correct." Of course it was not there, or was incomplete, or some such problem. So he started to hand the package back to me, then realized that wouldn't work, mumbled something about checking in the back, and went and got the other package I had come to pick up. It was labeled "cumbersome," but was not. It was a packet of forwarded mail from my parents.

Tristram had a record dinner tonight--400 grams of food (almost a pound, for those who don't yet think in metric). Hopefully that means he will sleep well tonight.

I want to stay because the metric system is so much better than English measurement.

I want to leave because it's hard to sleep--the bed is too hard, and I don't like the European system of sleeping under just a comforter that goes inside a washable sheet. Sometimes the comforter is too hot, but it's too cold to just throw it off and sleep without covers. So I often end up sleeping under the blanket that some previous tenant stole from Egypt Air.

They call me Dr. Mom

I received a letter from UCI today (forwarded from Maryland--thanks Bob and Toni) notifying me that I "have earned the degree of Doctor in Philosophy in English from the University of California, Irvine, conferred as of September 10, 2008." And it is addressed to "Dr. Zeiss!" Now there are three Dr. Zeisses...though I still plan on becoming Dr. Zanner as soon as we get back to the states and can go get the court order. I'm hoping, though, that now that I'm a doctor someone will once again mispronounce my last name as "Zay-us" before we get that family name change.

So now Tristram will have to address me as Dr. Mommy. I am excited, but most of all I finally feel like a grown-up. When I was little I thought all adults had doctorates, and apparently I still do.

The other big event of the day, which was almost as gratifying, was that we slept in till 8:30. Tristram yelled from 3 to 4, ate a little after 5, and then didn't get up until he heard us get out of bed. Usually we get up at 7, with no need for an alarm. I haven't slept that late since he was born, unless you count the early days when there is really no schedule at all. And I don't.

Above is what fog looks like from our balcony. It was foggy this morning, which went a long way toward making me feel at home. I missed foggy mornings, and fog in general, most desperately. It then got bitterly cold--hurts your fingers cold--and rained.

I want to stay because it rains. It's like there's a holiday at least once a week. It's always that mid-winter, chance of rain, things are growing, life is restored to the earth feel, with green grass and everything.

I want to leave because it was cold today and it's going to get colder. Tristram will need warm shoes, and possible a closed-to-the-elements stroller, and I will need warmer socks, at the least. I thought longingly today of the big huge coat that Ergo sells to wear over our daily-use baby carrier. I had great hopes for a mild winter when we moved here, because parks and traffic circles and median strips were filled with brugmansias and banana trees that were clearly years old, but in September they dug them all out. Turns out they were in pots and were taken off to safety for the winter. Now they've planted pansies, primroses, and hardy violets in their place. My heart sinks, but I'm pinning my hopes on the fuschias. The parks are full of thriving fuschia bushes that are still in place. Plus, with all the rosemary and lavendar and the occasional hibiscus that one sees, it can't be TOO harsh a winter. I'm hoping it's the equivalent of a USDA zone 8. But I'm scared.

Ahh, internet access.  Only 56 days into the 10-15 days that Orange promises it will take, here I am online.

The purpose of this blog is twofold.  First, it is an easy way for me to give updates from the Old Country.  I realize that those who are looking for updates probably more interested in what's new with Tristram than with me.  If you want to be added to our Flicker account for all the pictures, ask me and I'll do it.  For now, here's a new picture and a new accomplishment:  He said his first word on Sunday night!  It was "rabbit."  I suspect he will be wanting one for a pet when he's old enough to ask.  

Second, it is a way for me to keep sane.  Having finished the Ph.D. and having no work visa, I find myself on a sort of mandatory vacation.  That's great, except it turns out I am really bad at doing nothing.  I've already taken up sewing, and am almost done with Tristram's costume (he's going to be a parrot).  But still, I find myself getting pretty stir-crazy around here.  The full-time childcare stint is both the most rewarding, exciting and the most thankless, boring thing I could be doing with my time.  Hopefully the Intertron will help with the second set of adjectives.

The big question for us is, when do we come back?  (We'll deal with where we come back to later on.)  The options are:  the end of June, when Jonathan's teaching responsibilities for the year are over; the end of August, when our lease is up on the apartment and Jonathan's university paychecks stop coming; and a year after one of those, if he decides to re-up for another year.  I'll be going through a list of reasons to stay and reasons to go, which will often be trivial, but I'll start with the big ones:

I want to stay because this is our big chance to spend some time in another country, travel in Europe, and get Tristram immersed in another language as he's learning to talk.  Who knows when we can make an extended trip to Europe again, or give our kid such great language enrichment experience?  

I want to leave because we really can't afford it here.  The year-round paycheck for university teaching is a nice change from the States, but it means that we get a pittance each month.  Right now our income is less than our rent.  Jonathan's teaching nine classes, but he won't get paid the overtime till the end of the year and it'll be taxed at a much, much higher rate.  And I legally can't work in France, since I don't have a work visa.  To get one I'd have first to get an employer to sponsor me for one, then to go back to California and restart the entire visa application process.

So, you are probably thinking, she wants to stay but she has to go.  Ahh, but wait for the next installment.