Sunday Dinner with Reverend Dr. Eugene Callender

Walking to Patricia's Soiree Dinner, with 2 fresh baguettes under my arm, I felt almost French as I noticed how many other men and women were also carrying fresh bread. "Where are they going?" I wondered. As I walked past the tourist filled sidewalk cafe's, it seemed as if they watched me walk past with those same thoughts, "I wonder where she's going?"

Tonight, I'm going to listen to Patricia's guest, Reverend Dr. Eugene Callender speak about how one person can make a difference in the world. He spoke about how he met Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, and a few of the things he learned from him. For example, the idea and importance of Leadership during the Montgomery Bus Boycott in December 1955. Dr Callender spoke about the importance of "passion" and how passion in a cause is the fuel that drives the movement.

I recognize the passion that burns inside of me.

He also spoke about Peace, sharing that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said to him, "When a person hates, the only one it harms is the hater." Peace was the foundation of the movement towards Social Justice. Dr. Callender shared about his meetings and conversations with President Kennedy and Robert Kennedy. He gave us insight into the U.S. government past and present. He inspired us to take action in the direction of our passions.

Leaders with Passion

Lastly he explained a part of the current problems in our government today, stating that President Obama is the leader of a government created on the idea of the people by the people and how "of the people" is the cause of some issues of today because the "of the People" part of our government is not in agreement with the President, who can only lead but not dictate.

This was another very insightful dinner soriee at Patricia's.

Read more about Patricia's guest, Dr Eugene Callender here:
http://www.dreugenecallender.com/

Saturday Conversations with Adrian

Saturday mornings in Paris begin with the now almost usual Parler Parlor French-English Conversation group sessions at the Lutce Lange school. Some mornings I arrive, my brain does not feel like creating speech in French. This was one of those mornings.

Lucky for me, although Adrian wants me to improve, she gives me some slack every now and then if I want to "skip" the conversations. I decided to use the time, to study French prepositions, which we're learning in the actual class I've started attending. "Okay, you can skip the group, only if you promise not to talk to me, while I'm working." Adrian tells me as I sit at the school secretary's desk.

Somehow, between my silently studying French prepositions and her working on her next business deal over the internet, her iphone, skype and the telephone, she still manages to share a few more business words of wisdom.

She was excited to learn about the status of property values in New York, where she recently completed an investment and began to read out loud the latest statistics. (Something she does not ignore) "Wow, that's amazing. You really lucked out on your deal!" I said, after being 'interrupted' from studying Prepositions et noms de pays. (Prepositions and Names of Countries). "No." she said matter of factual. "It wasn't luck at all." I looked at her, waiting for explaination.

She smiled her, Okay, pay attention, I'm about to teach you something smile and explained. "Listen, some investments ARE just luck. But if you look at the statistics, do your homework and know exactly where you want to invest..." she explained, " and DON'T BACK DOWN, or change your mind about investing in that particular area, then it's NOT luck; you made a good investment!" she finished. Wow, I wondered how many of my investments were good investments or just plain luck.

I stared at the French preposition lesson, but my mind was stuck on thinking about great investments, how amazing Adrian is as a business woman, where would my next apartment be?, how will I succeed in Paris?, and why is the French language so complex? I wondered if Adrian could explain French prepositions as easily as she explains business. So I asked her for help.

She took the time to explain French prepositions just as easily, "Don't try to translate to English, you'll get confused." She explained, followed by "You can learn this if you stop getting frustrated and realize that you are not going to learn it all in a day!" She's so assuring and generous as she offers once again with the sincerity of a mother who cares, "Please, come and raid my library of the French verb books and dictionaries. They will really help you." I wonder how I was so lucky to have met her.

We finished Saturday afternoon celebrating her 15 years of Living in Paris as of 4 September. We had red wine. I had the BEST STEAK EVER in Paris, she had roast duck and for dessert we shared an amazing selection of creme brulee, chocolate mousse, macaroons, jelly beans, coffee and more great conversation!

More Conversations with French Men...

My purse rings sitting on my bed. I rush over to dig for the flashing light in the bottom to answer my cell phone before it switches to voice mail. I hurriedly push "accept", thinking it was my boss, just as I noticed, "Pierre calling".
Too late to hang up,I looked at the open line.

"Hello Pierre". I answer.
"I want you (pause-pause) to be my girrrlfriend." I hear on the other end. I reply with silence. Not a word as I wonder, which girlfriend does he want me to be? Number 4? Number 3? Why does he need more? (silence-silence).

"Is this impossible for you?" he breaks the silence. "Ah, Yes, you are a woman, who prefers to be a-lone." he answers his own question in the one-way conversation.

"Uh..." I reply in my usual way of answering his questions. "I do miss you and I do miss all the dinners we had last year, and the parties, and going places with you, meeting your colleagues, the fashion shows and all that..." I spurted out in honesty. "But you don't want to be my girrrlfriend?" he asked, or was he stating, his words in English with a French rhythm.

"Why can't we just be the same as last year and go out like we did then?" I asked.
"Last year, you were my girlfriend." he answered.

Note: Okay, here is where I have to admit, (although Adrian has told me this more than once), I must be really, really chronically naive.

Yes, I do remember being introduced to his friends and co-workers as his "petit-ami", which I had always thought was "cute"; thinking he called me his "little friend". I later learned from my French instructor in Colorado that this really meant "girlfriend". How was I suppose to know? (don't get any crazy ideas about my instructor teaching me the term in Colorado, it was just a part of the lesson...)

I wonder why Pierre never told me I was his girlfriend last year? Well, I guess he did (in French, perhaps?). And that explains all the really nice things he did for me. But if I didn't know I was his girlfriend in English, it doesn't it really count, does it?

The conversation continues after his "startling revelation". The ball of the conversation now sits in my court, but what can I say after that? Do I ask him when exactly did I become his girlfriend last year? No, that would really sound naive. How about, "Are you sure I was your girlfriend?, I mean, maybe it was someone else..." No, that wouldn't be very smart either. So in my infinite wisdom, I say, "Well, can't we just pretend that I'm your girlfriend again?"

I can hear my real girl friends saying right now, "No you didn't!?", "You didn't say that to him did you?" and I would have say, "Yes, those are the brilliant words that came forth from my lips." "Can we PRETEND?!"

I have to wonder myself, what am I thinking? NO! I am not thinking. My brain goes into hibernate at times and my mouth keeps moving.

He laughs hysterically. The same way I wanted to laugh, when I heard the first words of our conversation, but didn't. I remember immediately, that's one of the things I also miss about him is the laughter.

We don't spend any time together anymore, but we talked a little more, laugh a lot more and in the end, he concluded as usual, "You are an impossible woman."

Then why does he keep calling me? I wonder naively.

Qu' est-ce que cest? What is this?

A beautiful rainy Friday morning in Paris. The rain is cool, cozy (if inside), and refreshing. Hearing the sound of the rain this morning, I thought about catching the metro to the Eiffel Tower, just to walk around it under my umbrella and smile inside at the thought that I actually "live" here.

The tower will have to wait. I decided to do a load of laundry and walk through the local market instead. Of course I took a few photos of all the "interesting" food stuff that made me wonder, "Qu' est-ce que cest?" (What is this?). At the same time, walking through the fresh food market also gave me a wonderful vision of one day being able to point at strange ingredients, call them by name and buy them in French; then return to a beautiful 2 bedroom apartment with wonderful sun shiny views, wooden floors, and a large kitchen to make a great French meal for my visiting friends and family.

But today, I will have to settle for taking photos and wondering, "Qu' est-ce que cest?"

Note: I also decided to change to blogger's newest editor, which is supposed to be new and improved. I can't figure it, and the pictures are added on the Right, which I also can't seem to add text under....ugh. Lastly, anyone should be able to leave a comment, without needing a blog account...I hope someone will try that feature out, if you've been unable to leave a comment in the past.

For now, I just posted the photos, no captions. So you will just have to stroll and browse silently, just as I did this morning....

The Inauguration of Le Palace des Vosges

"Don't be so tall... and turn down your bright smile..." Adrian (the boss) laughingly demands, just before the camera clicks for one of the first celebration photos. We crack up. Yeah, she's bossy, but she gets things DONE, which is why we're all celebrating the "birth" of an amazing investment project, completed by a wonderful team led by Adrian Leeds.

Setting up before the party

The evening was perfect. Light pre-dinner snacks were served, music played softly in the background as colleagues, interesting guests, including investors, lawyers, bankers and architects began to fill the "Palace".

Me and Joe (my Military broth'a and ALG Colleague)

"Hey, It's Flo-Joe!", exclaimed THE Rental Manager, just before he took this picture. He's actually a little nicer since his return from vacation.

Patricia Laplante-Collins and me

...another interesting and inspiring woman living in Paris.

Adrian introduces her team and tells the story of Le Palace des Vosges project in a nutshell...

"The Masses"
There must have been at least 1,000 guests looking and listening in amazement...(Okay I exaggerate a little, thinking no one is really reading anyway, but just skimming the photos....)



Adrian, Me and Patricia
If ambition, success, generosity, drive and determination from these two could rub off, I will do fine in Paris...

...a great time was had by all...no more 4-inch heels!

Me and Nathan

Ahh yes, and then there was Nathan, the amazingly good looking French Architect. He talked to me for what seemed like hours. (Okay, I exaggerate again, because I'm almost sure no one is still reading this far, but it was actually more like 15 minutes). I know I just blogged recently about no more conversations with French men, but maybe in Paris this is impossible?!

As he asked me questions, he stared into my eyes, with his head tilted slightly as if my eyes were dark tinted windows of a celebrity's vehicle and he was trying to peer inside. It seems as if the French men want to climb into a woman's soul through her eyes. I can't talk and think clearly with a beautiful man piercing my soul with his eyes. I told him, I had to go and take more photos of the party. He said he wanted to talk to me more...I looked away and smiled when my back was turned.

Later he found me and we talked a little more, I couldn't help telling him, that I thought he was a very attractive man, "uh a very attractive French man.", I added. Duh! huh? Is it obvious or was it just me? He looked surprised and happy to hear the compliment, but asked "You mean you don't find all the French men attractive?" "Only two, and you are number Three." I replied. "Number Three in all of Paris?", he wanted to know. "Yes." I lied, he was actually number One, but I didn't want to tell him I really only knew two French men, one is almost 70 and the other is gay, and the other one really doesn't count. He seemed happy with those statistics, as he wrote his email address on a piece of paper and gave it to me. I gave him my card. I would have given him my whole box of cards if I had them, but Adrian would probably be angry if I asked for to order another 250 tomorrow. Anyway, I gave him one card, and I don't expect to hear from him again, but we did have a nice conversation and I will add his email to Adrian's list of subscribers.

The evening ended with sprinkles of rain as the last few guest left. I pulled out my umbrella as I prepared to leave. The Rental manager kindly offered to immediately buy my umbrella for 2 euros. Of course this would mean, I walk to the metro in 4-inch heels a black skirt and a sweater soaking wet. Maybe he isn't as nice as I thought, but never the less, the warm spirit of the Inauguration will always be present in Le Palace des Vosges.

4-Inch Heels and a Black Skirt...

Last night was the inauguration celebration of Adrian's latest property in Le Palace des Vosges (a "High Society" kinda address to have...). "What shall I wear?" I asked myself, looking through my closet of leftover black cocktail dresses, from last year's parties and dinners on the Champs Elysees with Pierre. Each dress seemed a little too formal for the occasion.

"A black skirt will be fine." I answered myself, but what else I wondered? 4 inch heels., was the answer. A black skirt and 4 inch heels is all that seemed to really matter I realized as I began my journey to the celebration.

Walking to the metro, now that summer vacations have ended in Paris, the streets are filled with traffic. I stopped at the busy crosswalk intersection watching all the traffic, and to my surprise, when I stopped, the traffic stopped too. A small white car, followed by others, stopped in the center of the intersection where I stood at the curb. On-coming cars also stopped. I stood there at the corner, looking for the red light that suddenly stopped the traffic in an awkward way, blocking the side streets too. There wasn't a stop light. I was confused as no one honked their horns either. After surveying the silent traffic, I looked again at the car in front of me and noticed a man waving me to cross the street. I looked again at the traffic and realized that he had stopped to allow me to cross which in turn blocked the entire intersection. Everyone waited patiently as I made my way across the street. As I reached the middle of the street, noticing heads in cars turned my direction, I thought, "Wow, this must be where that saying about 'looks that stop traffic' comes from." I tried not to smile out loud.

4-inch heels and a black skirt, On the side walk, men stare, at my feet, then my legs, then the skirt. I look away and keep walking. Men with women stare, women look. I pretend not to notice. A few times I casually touch my skirt to make sure it was still there, as more heads turned. It was still there.

Leaving the metro, as I walked up the stairs and started down the side walk towards Palace Des Vosges, the biggest compliment was there on the corner. Holding his mother's hand was a little boy around 8 or 9 years old. As I walked closer he turned around, (maybe at the sound of my 4 inch heels clacking on the stone sidewalk), his mouth dropped open as if he just saw a tall building turn into a transformer figure. Immediately, with his little mouth still hung open, he looked at my feet, then my legs, then the black skirt just as I walked past him and his mother. I smiled out loud...as I rushed to help set up for the evening party....(to be continued)

Work?!

Walking to work at Le Palace Des Vosges.

Entering Palace des Vosges

Entering Palace des Vosges

At work. Paris Real Estate in Palace des Vosges. Is this really work?
Yes, it's really work!...visit, http://www.palacedesvosges.com/PDV_decor.html

Leaving "Work" for lunch..

Lunch in a cafe...ahhh, is that our water?

Oh, the great thing about Paris (one of many), is the cafes serve omelets for lunch instead of being a typical breakfast item like in the States. Since I usually sleep until 10 Am, and get out of the apartment by noon; having a ham and cheese omelet in the afternoon is the icing on the cake. Breakfast is also my favorite meal of the day...just another reason I LOVE PARIS!!

Lunch...No, the ice cream is not for me.

Working with beautiful real estate in Paris, finishing work at noon, then eating "breakfast" afterwards...does it get any better than this?