Living Abroad Makes You Talk Funny

Living Abroad Makes You Talk Funny

There's a scene in Highlander where our hero, the immortal Connor MacLeod, gets hauled in by the New York City popo for engaging in some swordfight and beheading shenanigans in a parking lot during a wrestling match. During the questioning, a cop tells him he talks funny, and asks where he's from. Without hesitation, 450 year-old MacLeod answers, "Lots of different places."He talks funny because he's a French actor portraying a 16th century Scottish man. If you suspend your disbelief and allow yourself to have fun, he speaks this way because he's been wandering the globe for more than 400 years and it's distorted his accent into something that can't be identified.I wanted that. The first few months I spent living abroad, I was certain that it was only a matter of time before my American accent softened. That after years of being immersed in a sea of French language, my English would become smoother at the edges where the...
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These Days, I’m Totally Cool With Being a Goat-Eating White Trash Princess Barbie

These Days, I’m Totally Cool With Being a Goat-Eating White Trash Princess Barbie

If I were ranking each decade of my life, my 40s would have the top score. It's a comfortable place of knowing myself better than ever before, and full-blown adulthood is an achievement that brings rewards previously unimagined. It's a strange time of contradictions where I give fewer shits, but care more deeply. I still feel outrage and anger, but find that it isn't channeled the same way, and is focused on different targets. I'm wiser, but am still learning and pay attention to the lessons with greater awareness. I'm better equipped to know which battles to fight, and which to let go. And why.In 2003, the couple living next door began calling me "Barbie" soon after we met. I'm like a Barbie doll, they say. I shake my head, and tell them they're wrong. I love hanging out with these two women. We open the doors of our apartments and sit on the steps, the three of us drinking...
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Short Stories and Tiny Blissful Moments

Short Stories and Tiny Blissful Moments

How are we doing these days? Holding up? Hanging in there? I hope so. If you're reading this, I hope you're doing so during a brief pause from doing nice things for yourself like reading books, making art, drinking beers, and eating some really incredible food. Tiny blissful moments are a big deal. Everything that's going on in the world constantly draws me in and I feel compelled to read the news and dive into my Twitter feed, but lately, I'm suffering from information fatigue. Mostly, it's Trump fatigue. I don't need to experience a daily bombardment of voices each day telling me that he said an awful thing. Both sides harbor their own set of obsessions that tend to weigh heavy on everyone. Too much of that shit and I start to morph into Rust Cohle from the first season of True Detective.There's a lot of scared people. Angry people. And people who think none of this matters, or...
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You Can’t Outrun the Uncertain Future

You Can’t Outrun the Uncertain Future

A few months ago, life was normal. The future was uncertain, but I slept better than I do now. My husband Olivier and I were enjoying our first year of living in England. After ten years in France, it was a welcome and exciting change. We often had conversations about what the next big leap might be. Maybe back home to the States, depending on the election. Or, maybe elsewhere in the U.K., depending on how the whole Brexit thing goes. The threat of Brexit cast a shadow over everything, but it didn't feel menacing. Hell, it probably wouldn't actually happen. That'd be crazy.Then came the morning that we woke up and found ourselves living in fucking crazytown.My husband, a European working in England, had to go to work immediately afterward, all the while wondering if everyone he looked at had just voted for him to leave. Luckily, working in an office with a colorful international mix softened the blow....
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London, Paris, New York… and Longmont

London, Paris, New York… and Longmont

It all started with laughter and a longing to be somewhere else.I don't miss my hometown. I moved out of Longmont, Colorado in 1994, and never wanted to move back. For me, crossing that town line is like stepping into a dark parallel universe of bad memories. It's a time machine that only goes back to traumatic events; to people who only knew me as the juvenile delinquent offspring of a narcissistic, alcoholic mother. People who said I'd end up as nothing, popping out kids, smoking crack and ending up dead in a ditch. It's the town where a loser who nearly killed me is still frequently seen walking around on the street.I still have some very awesome friends living in Longmont, and while I almost envy their loving view of the place, I simply do not share it.My home life was not as bad or as good as it could have been, but it was difficult. It had a...
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Champions of Breakfast

Champions of Breakfast

There are so many things that France does right.  The wine, the food & the healthcare.  The 35-hour work week & the apéritif. Some things about living in France have just been too easy to get used to.  The fact that in France, bad grammar is a worse offense than profanity just makes me feel at home.  I can no longer sit down to a meal without a glass of red wine, or go without an espresso after lunch - especially when lunch can often be around 2 hours long. So many things about life in France are - yeah, I'll say it - better than that in the United States.  But, you already knew that, right?  It's hardly a secret.  People here have longer life lines for a reason. That's not to say that I don't ever have a few complaints.  Believe me... I do.  (You knew that was coming, right?) Sometimes, it's just a matter of homesickness, or missing something from home...
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