Ow.

I called my dad from the pay phone downstairs this afternoon. I was slouched forward, listening to his opinion on the current world economic situation, when all of a sudden I had an idea. I jerked upright and WHACK! I hit my head.

I howled in pain, and tears started streaming down my face, but my dad was so absorbed in what he was saying that he didn't notice at first. I kept saying, "Dad? Daddy? Hold on... hold on, okay? Dad?"

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked.

"No!" I said, crying. "I... I... I cracked my head on the corner of the condom machine in the phone booth, and it hurts!"

And he laughed his behind off at me.

Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Dad.

(Okay, to be fair, his laugh is really infectious, and so once he got going I couldn't help but laugh and cry and hold my head all at once. I sounded truly hysterical.)

Glad to know I made his morning...

I don't know about your panties...

...but mine don't have built-in cooking appliances. Apparently, some people's panties do... or, at least, that's what the document I proofread at work today said before I added in the runaway 'r'...

I love my job. ;)

Happy first day of spring!

No, the vernal equinox isn't until the night of March 20/21. But meteorological spring is considered to start on the first day of March, as the TF1 weatherlady pointed out last night, and I'll take as much spring as I can get, so -- happy first day of spring!

Here. I've got a hint for you.

If you want me to do freelance work for you:

• DON'T call me 3 times over the course of the 2-hour-long meeting I have with the Big Boss of my organization on Friday morning.


• DON'T leave a message that does not tell me who you are or include the name of the organization you want me to work for and the nature of the work you'd like me to do.


• DON'T ask me to please call you back at MY telephone number.


• DON'T keep your Sabbath day holy but text me 3 times on mine.
  


• DON'T wait until the 3rd text message (in other words, the SIXTH time you've contacted me) to finally give me a number at which I can actually reach you.

Because you know what? That makes me think that maybe you're not such a great person to work for. I'm just sayin'.

I guess I've finally recovered from Vermont

It snows a lot in Vermont. Usually from mid-October to mid-May, with everything that falls from December through February piling higher and higher because usually there's no thaw until March.

Moving from San Antonio to Middlebury was a rude awakening, let me tell you.

Three years of lots of snow, little sunlight and temperatures as cold as -40°F/C (not factoring in wind chill!) was enough to last me a lifetime.

The one winter I spent back in Texas was a relief. No snow. Lots more light and very few days where the temperature hit freezing. No reason to put on more than one layer of clothes at any given time.

Then I moved to Switzerland. It snows a lot in Switzerland, although not very much in Geneva. We had two days of snow the first winter I was here, and about five days of snow the second winter. After Vermont, I should be able to handle that, right? No way. On mornings when I woke up to snow outside, I cried. I hated snow so much. Even one day of snow a year was too much for me.

And now, this winter it has snowed countless times. Supposedly it is the snowiest winter Geneva has had since 1985. And you know what? I love it! It's so soft and quiet and soothing. It makes the town slow down and be less busy. And, let's face it -- 25 above is a heatwave compared to 40 below.

I'm still never moving back to Vermont, though.

Hey, ho, nobody's home

It's a gorgeous day in Geneva. Blue skies, warm (for winter) weather, little chirping birdies all over the place. Perfect day to go walk around town.

This morning I went down to the rues basses, which are normally chock-a-block full of pedestrians. Not today. The stores were really empty, too, which suits me just fine -- I had a nice, leisurely shopping trip where I got two winter/spring skirts that were originally more than 100 francs each for just 35 francs total. And the buses and the streets were empty... I guess everyone is out skiing. I don't know why. I'd much rather walk around town with my coat unbuttoned than freeze my butt off on the slopes, especially after four months of colder-than-usual weather.

Especially since it's supposed to be gross outside tomorrow...

Could somebody please tell me

why the French call gear hobs "mother strawberries"?

This has been bugging me all day.

Thank you.