Luncheon & HSM

Today the school hosted a welcome luncheon for Miss Cake. It was great to see so many folks from school getting together to socialize, and I think it gave her a good introduction to the essential characters on campus. Chrissie spoke a bit about The Program's history, then Mr. R thanked our guests (state representatives-- two of them!) and introduced me, who in turn introduced the guest of honor. Lots of introductions going on. Mr. R had asked me to talk a bit about The Program, but I got so flustered that I just started rattling about Lord-only-knows-what-all, then sat down. Which was fine, because at that point we got gift bags! Miss Cake got lots of Baker goodies (t-shirts, planner, umbrella, you name it) and I got a lovely school bag filled with tons of fun stuff, including chocolate. You can check it out here. Big thanks to Chrissie, Roe and Estle for making it happen.

That night, we went with Ed and Frank to see the Playhouse production of High School Musical. The kids were obviously having a great time on stage, and despite the painful cheesiness of the plotline, I found the show very entertaining. Shout-out to Angélique, whose role included a line about joie de vivre; her flawless pronunciation made her French teacher proud. And Guy... well, he stole the show, as usual.

Fairhope Picnic

Because we'd already planned it for Monday To celebrate Miss Cake's arrival, we went on a picnic in beautiful Fairhope. Two of my former students, Guy and Regis, along with a visiting French kid, Pierre, went with us. We met some other French teachers there and had a great time sitting around and talking shop. The weather was gorgeous-- not too hot in the shade, with a nice breeze coming off the Bay, and Miss Cake seemed really impressed by the local scenery. As an added bonus, I got to see my friend Amy, whom I don't think I've seen since we graduated from high school. I enjoyed catching up and being able to introduce Miss Cake to the area at the same time.

Poor French Girl

(Side note: Upon hearing the name of his new teacher, one of my students promptly dubbed her Miss Cake. As French people can be a bit sensitive about the disclosure of their personal information on the interwebs, I shall henceforth refer to her as such.)

Poor Miss Cake missed her connection in Dallas. We didn't know that when we (Julia, Chrissie and I) showed up at the airport to pick her up. We watched the 7:40 from Dallas empty out-- no Cake. Then we watched the 7:40 from Delta empty out-- and as Louis XVI noted in his hunting journal on July 14, 1789-- rien. * (Yeah, I'm classin' this blog up.)

Turns out she'd left messages on my home phone, the only problem being that I wasn't home but out at O'Charley's toasting my last remaining moments of living alone. She arrived promptly the next morning, and we were both probably better off for having another night to sleep in a bed.

* In this footnote, my conscience obliges me to redeem poor ol' Louis.

McGuire's

My friend Chrissie had to got to Pensacola for a memorial service, and she invited me to meet up with her at McGuire's afterwards. I had a wonderful, rowdy time with her and her family; McGuire's is just too much fun. After the inevitable trip into the men's room (look very closely at the sign on the door), I discovered the funhouse mirrors in the ladies' room and Chrissie and I had a blast posing in front of the skinny mirror. As always, you can be part of the mayhem here.)

Snail-sized progress

Eureka! After harassing people in multiple hemispheres, I finally got a response from Paris with a direct line to contact at the consulate.

I was even more impressed when I called and they knew exactly who I was. (I'm famous!) This moment of glory was immediately dashed by the announcement that they haven't yet received the necessary documents from the OFII. (Here's your refresher on how visas are made.)

They politely took my number and promised to call as soon as the dossiers arrive from Paris. Then they asked if I knew "Madame Jones," the other exchange teacher in their zone. I did. She has an appointment tomorrow, they told me, but perhaps I should call her and tell her not to come all that way for nothing? (Perhaps I should call her? Seriously?)

But I did, and she had a heart attack, because she has a flight booked. I am in awe of her gumption; she's going anyway. Fingers crossed! I, meanwhile, will continue to languish on the couch until they get around to calling me back. I am worn out.

Time to Break the Glass

Visa Status Update: I took the first available appointment at the consulate, August 13. I'm scheduled to leave the 16th. You do the math. I was doggedly optimistic as I conveyed this information to the Commission: lalala, all I have to do is show up and retrieve my visa, non? Uh, non, as it turns out. My contact, through thinly-veiled panic, recommended that I contact the consulate directly to see if I could get an earlier appointment.

Today, I took action: I called. (Those of you who know me well recognize that this is a BFD. Think about it: when was the last time I called you? Exactly.) I almost threw up the whole time the phone was ringing, which was stupid because naturally I only got the Electric Lady, who rattled off lengthy instructions about getting an appointment online (already did that, thanks), then invited me to press one to speak to a visa agent. I pressed one, and was immediately informed that all visa agents were busy. Did I wish to leave a voice mail? Why yes, I did. Well, tant pis, because the voice mailbox was full. Au revoir!

Argh. I got drastic. Looked online for the main switchboard number, dialed it (feeling faint once again)... and got the Electric Lady again.

Plan B: as the Electric Lady suggested, I could consult the website, which is updated daily. Found an email address, spent a ridiculous amount of time composing, editing and adding accent marks, copied the Commission, hit send.

Email was returned with fatal errors.

So evidently it's not possible to contact the consulate by phone or email, and they won't see you if you show up without an appointment.

Yeah, you could say I'm panicking now.

Much-Needed Pause

In the midst of pre-departure angst (growing stronger every day), I finally cracked under the pressure and ran away to the Bay for a couple of days. Jack and Michelle were staying at The Grand for an alleged law conference (like anyone believes that, Jack) and I went over to occupy the second bed so that Grace could sleep on the floor.

We had a great time! Grace has never had much use for me before now, but evidently she's old enough now to fully appreciate my charms, because we're total BFFs now. And it's only normal that when people see me with my little red-headed shadow, they make assumptions. This leads to somewhat awkward conversations wherein well-meaning matrons ask how old she is, and I mumble, "Uh, I think she's three." (Mother of the Year I am not.)

So thanks for the invite, folks! Hope this house guest wasn't too much of a hassle.

Picking Up Speed...

Well, it feels like the train has left the station and we're starting the slow but relentless climb to the top. (Then, probably about the time I step off the train, the inevitable free-fall-and-vomit.) The past three days have been semi-eventful. On Thursday, I went to the beach to spend the day with another exchange teacher who's going to be outside Paris. (Like all the cool kids. In fact, out of the 12 Americans who will be in France next year, I know of only four who won't be "outside Paris.") She and her family are all super-nice; in fact, I later confessed to my mother the shameful feeling that her niece might be even cuter than my goddaughter. (But only a little bit, and mostly because Care Bear is almost six and, you know, I'm over her.) The beach was gorgeous and the water was ice cold and gorgeous; I rarely even get in the water at all, but that day I couldn't stand to leave. And I have the sunburn to prove it.

Friday I had a small, suspicious package from the French government which turned out to contain a flash drive. For a moment I wondered if I had been unwittingly recruited as a spy; how friggin' awesome would that be? "This flash drive will self-destruct in..." Of course, I'd wind up being more Maxwell Smart than James Bond, but they don't know that. At least, I don't think they do. At any rate, it turns out the drive was just loaded with lots of boring and convoluted information about the French school system, including flow charts and enough acronyms to quite make one's head explode.

Then today the mailman delivered two Fulbright-related articles. The first was yet another missive from the French government, this time an official document to add to my growing collection of official documents whose only purpose seems to be hanging around long enough to be photocopied. (The bureaucratic equivalent of mayflies.)

Also in the post was a gorgeous invitation to a welcome luncheon for Florence. Once again, Chrissie has gone above-and-beyond. But then, she always does.

This sudden burst of activity definitely makes it feel like things are moving, which inspired me-- briefly-- to step up my moving game. I went to the post office to mail a letter, and I thought while I was there I'd ask a few questions about this mysterious M-Bag I've read about online. (Is there an actual bag? Where might one acquire it?) Sadly, the clerk did not inspire much confidence. First, as I was explaining that I needed an air mail stamp for my letter, I asked, "Should I put England or UK as the country?" His answer: "Put whichever one it's going to." At this point, I decided further questions would just cause unnecessary angst for both of us.

Still. Not. Panicking.

Right. Not panicking. Lalala. The consulate has no more visa appointments available in July. In fact, if I were to make a reservation right now, they would have to give me my visa on the spot (not likely). I emailed the Commission two days ago to ask her if our applications are indeed ready and what the crap I'm supposed to do about the appointment thing... and I've gotten no response.

But then again, no one else has a visa either. Not my problem. Not my problem. Notmyproblem.