Liberte, Equalite, and Dressin’ nice, okaaaaay?

To clarify William’s comment yesterday, he was referring to the number of coax cables he requires and NOT what Project I need to prioritize. I had to clarify that one myself. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN “7”?! I sincerely hope you do not mean I should be prioritizing Project 7.”
“What’s Project 7?”

Meanwhile, I’ve considered relaxing my stance on gun proliferation. Why? I have an idea. “No Guns Without Rocking Chairs”. It’s a program I came up with while my mom was being a bit crotchety about something. Imagine. No gun proliferation unless seated in a rocking chair. It would be a country of Granny Clampett’s. Charming, in a way.

Meanwhile, Tony Adams mentioned in his blog that he has a friend of Moroccan descent who lives in Paris and thinks of Iowa as “exotic.” Assuming I can weasel Ohio into that exoticism, my eyes puddle at the idea that a Parisian could find a Midwesterner charming. (It’s sort of my dream.) I know that the French hold rural life on a pedestal and that politicians in France must prove their rural mettle by milking various mammals at exhibitions and things. I don’t think I’ve actually milked a goat, or cow for that matter. But I have chased (and been chased by) a chicken. Tres chic, no?

The more I learn about the French, the more I realize I have more things in common with them then I thought. Typically, after reading a passage in a book on France, my reaction goes something like this:

(From 60,000,000 Frenchmen Can’t Be Wrong) The real question, perhaps, is why the French feel they need to deliberately “create” an elite at all…One reason is that … in France… the term elite connotes not just priveleges, but also duties.

Then I think: Yeesh. Elite! How ridiculous! How can you have a fully Democratic society with a socially ingrained Elite?
I love elite duties and priveleges….

Meanwhile, I have jumped over a year ahead of myself and I’m already thinking about packing. This is the one place where Rick Steves can’t help me. Not because he’s a man. But because he’s all about “efficiency” and “wearing thing multiple times” and “picking sensible shoes” and inviting women to comment on packing women’s clothing, to which I tune in without distraction and then leap in horror behind the couch when said women recommends a “broomstick skirt that is meant to be wrinkly.”
I may have to resort to my nice little black dress and snazzy heels. Sure, I might look like a faux Italian transport, but better that than looking like my sixth grade band teacher on casual Friday (she was of German descent. I mean, me too. But when in Rome…er, Paris).

Sensible shoes and a broomstick skirt. Why go to France at all? I’m sure there is some sort of Podiatric convention coming up. THAT’S where you where a pre-wrinkled broomstick skirt and sensible shoes…and a , god help me, Fanny pack.

No, I must forge the packing task on my own. And apparently it will take me over a year to navigate it anyway. One bit of advice I DO plan on taking, having just a carry-on sized bag, not checking a big lubering luggage set. See? I can pack light. Hello, little black dress! I mean, c’mon, it’s the fashion capital of the world. I bet they have an iron. Or at least a service.

And elite laundry service…


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