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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary



A couple of years ago when we were zooming back into France from a whirlwind trip to Bilbao, a tollbooth guard called Terence “Starsky.”

We were zooming across the border, driving as though we were being pursued by ETA terrorists, when we screeched to a stop to pay the toll.

“Eh, oh, Starsky!” is what guard said.

The Starsky part would be funny on its own, but it’s the addition of the “eh, oh” that just makes it for me. I don’t know what made me think of it now.

We were so relieved to be back on French soil after that quick jaunt. I love Spain, but that Northwestern part with the soot and unsmiling people and the many homemade ETA banners strung across housing projects? Not my favorite part. To celebrate being back in friendly territory, we bought a bag of delicious macarons in Saint Jean de Luz and ate them on the way home.

If I could, I’d buy an apartment in Paris, and a house in either Biarritz or Saint Jean de Luz. Like a good socialist, I need two places to live. Who doesn’t?

I ran for about 10 mn on the treadmill and practically killed all living tissue in my lungs. I’m starting off slowly, hoping to build my endurance to the 30-40 mn continuous running point. I took the latest W magazine with me, thinking I could read it while I exercised but the treadmill didn’t have one of those magazine holdy thingies. Good thing, though. I would have hated to sweat all over the glorious photo of Adrien Brody. My god, that face. THAT FACE! I have the biggest crush on that man. Really. I would seriously freak out if I ever saw him in person. Thank god I don’t live in LA anymore.

Speaking of LA: in a message to my high school alum newsletter, I said that moving to Connecticut from LA was “culture shock.” Just writing that made me giggle. I normally write a haiku or something cryptic or plain make stuff up. Reading about classmates’s new children and busy spouses is so boring! And it’s page after page of that. And the descriptions are so disappointing and stultifying. For once I would like someone to write in and say, “Hey remember how I was a brilliant and charismatic national merit scholar student with tons of potential in high school? Well, guess what? I threw it all away to be a rummy on the beach in Haiti!” or “Hey I’m livin’ la vida loca in Montana!” I know that I could just send money and NOT WRITE ANYTHING AT ALL, but what kind of snarky fun would that be?

One time I wrote something like “no matter how much professional success I achieve (and I listed a bunch of phony awards,) nothing brings me greater joy than my litter of children.” Unfortunately, my mother read the alum newsletter and was none too pleased. “Why did you make that up? I want a litter of grandchildren!”

Truth is stranger than fiction.

3:21 p.m. - 2004-07-21



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