A Hilarious Nightmare

So, my Dad had a "nightmare" last week, and my sisters and I thought it was too hilarious to not document  So, I will recreate what he told to me...

So, Dad was walking Ali through the woods, just like any normal day.

Then, he found himself at the top of a hill.

At the bottom of the hill, sat his Rav 4. So, he walked down to see who was inside.

But, replace Ali with Ludacris. And if you know my Dad, you know how ludicrous it is that Ludarcis appeared in his dream.

After being surprised at who was found in his car, he then realized a gun was in his hand. Dad proceeded to shoot Ludacris in the shoulder, the left thigh and the right thigh (these were very specific instructions).(Disclaimer: my Dad has no hateful feelings towards Ludacris. In fact, he is completely indifferent to the rapper).

He thought, "What have I done? I just shot Ludacris! I must find Ali and run back home!"

Next, he is overwhelmed with confusion, regret and guilt, thinking "What have I done? I have tried to be a good man my whole life..."

 

He has even been nicknamed the "spiritual ninja."

  

"...And after all that, I will go to jail because I killed a rapper!! What am I going to do? They are going to take my family away from me," he worried.

  

"And I will go to jail!"

Just when he thought his life was over, he woke up! So relieved that he, in fact, had not shot Ludacris in the shoulder and both thighs. PHEW!

Paris Vogue: Fevrier 2010

 

   

Winter Wonderings...O Vitamin D, Where Art Thou?

I woke up to snow.

And if you know me, you know how much I love snow.

...And the wintertime. And the winter fashion, la mode d'hiver.



...I've even been known as an Ice Queen. I am a winter lady. A winter personality. I have the skin to prove it.

...but every winter, just when I think I am content with the cold, I walk into a store and see the new spring collection. Symbolizing: A breath of fresh air. A new beginning.

Then I realize how much I want spring to show it's face. And then I fantasize about vacation at the beach. With my iPod. Lying in the sun.

...And springtime.


Like Manet's Le Dejeuner sur l'herbe.

...when I can pack this

...and do this.

...and find myself somewhere like this:


...where bathing suits might be in my luggage

...and, where I can use these:


In conclusion, Stockholm, Sweden will no longer be my February vacation. We be goin' South. To the South of France!

You travel so you know where to call home...

...and my home is the South. Specifically Nashville, TN.

 I also feel like I can claim Kentucky as my home; I do love me some Kentucky.

As a teenager, growing up where I did often seemed like:
But after living in France (a country that I previously thought would be like living in a fairly tale), I realized that America has a unique culture.

There truly is an American branding of high school, university life, humor, and Christianity.(I'm talking about the South, because I've only lived in the South) .

In the beginning of the book, Sebastien Fath is searching for a black-gospel, evangelical church in the overwhelming heat of an Atlanta summer. He stops in a Fast-food restaurant, but cannot understand what anyone says because of the accent. Then, surprised how difficult it was to walk somewhere in the US, he finally arrives at the church and comments on the music and the evangelical jargon.

This is what I consider normal. And someone is writing a book on this stuff, explaining this "foreign way of life" to frenchies!?!

Maybe they don't have potluck dinners like this:

These clips are from Junebug, which is basically the movie version of what I am talking about. Here's the trailer:


I acknowledge that the South can be associated with rednecks, red states, holy-rollers and hell-raisers, narrow-mindedness and racism:

No homesickness or distance can gloss over those issues.

But, still, all the traveling has made me appreciate my roots.

If I gain nothing else, moving to France was worth it just to realize that what I thought was not special at all, is actually something special indeed.







It also helps that I've been listening to Johnny Cash's Live @ San Quentin:

And it also helps that I'm realizing more and more how badass the city of Nashville is. The Dead Weather formed there.

Especially when my high school students react with "Oh, la chance!" when I talk about my life back home (like being able to go to concerts any night of the week).

As the Beach Boys say, "And the Southern girls with the way they talk/They knock me out when I'm down there"

Despite all this, I still try to hide the slight southern drawl in my accent.

If all else fails, Nashvillians can always  brag about bein' the "Athens of the South."

Wow! These pictures are now 4 years old. You know what they say about time.

'Twas a night to remember. @ Centennial Park.