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.