You know what's funny? I really didn't want to know! In other news, whoa, my Picard guy is really miserable.
We had a nice weekend if you enjoy dinosaurs and thinking about devastatingly sad things. L’Institut de Paléontologie Humaine is currently exhibiting half a dozen REAL DINOSAUR SKELETONS so I took the dino-obsessed Loosh to see them on Saturday afternoon. His mind was sufficiently blown.
Holy sh*t, Mom, that is a motherf*ckin' Triceratops head behind me, I sh*t you not.**
**not something he actually said
He brought along a dinosaur book to help identify each skeleton. After proper identification, he then "read" outlandish claims about each one -- such as this one could swim underwater and that one could shoot lasers out of his eyes. He got defensive and ran away holding the book over his head when I asked to see the book so I could double check his facts.
This one could read your motherf*ckin' mind!**
**I apologize, folks. I'm pretty ornery tonight.
L’Institut de Paléontologie Humaine is a lovely old building but one thing bothered me and took me out of the dinosaur moment --
I am not a fan of swastika as design element
I'm supposed to be at a school meeting right now. It's the same informational meeting his teacher got mad at us for missing last year. Alex is in Spain but I had a babysitter lined up so felt pretty confident I was going to make the damn meeting this time and then everyone would LOVE ME. At school pick-up this afternoon, I cheerfully told the teacher I would see her again in an hour. I was born to attend that meeting.
Then the babysitter didn't show up. I have no idea why. So I didn't go to the meeting. Now I'm shakin' in my fashionable boots and feeling "the dread" because I know this teacher hates us now, too. I can't blame her because we've done nothing but sh*t** on important school meetings since the get-go.
Some guy came to the door today and said he had to inspect chimneys and gas lines. I said we didn't have a chimney or gas in the apartment but told him to come on in and take a look around if he wanted to verify. For reasons I'll never understand, he pointed at the ventilator duct coming out the top of our stove's ventilation hood and declared it a gas line. He jumped up on our counter and banged on the thing for awhile, declared it "blocked" and said we would need a full inspection at a later date.
So tell me the truth -- is this guy going to break in later and rob us blind? Something was weird, but I hadn't had interaction with adults all day and was happy for his bizarre company. But he got to me -- I'm now scared to turn on the ventilator hood/gas line for fear of blowing up the building.
One more thing before I go. Sunday, obviously, was September 11th. I very much felt the need to do something to commemorate the day so I took Lucien to the memorial ceremony at Trocadero. On the metro ride there, I gave Lucien a very rudimentary explanation of where we were going and why, basically how we needed to think about our country on that day because something very sad happened there ten years ago. Thankfully, he didn't ask too many in-depth questions because I have no idea how to explain something so horrible to someone who thinks the worst thing a person can do is call someone else "poo-poo face."
It was a moving tribute at Trocadero. The mayor of Paris was there alongside the American ambassador. A choir sang the French and U.S. national anthems back-to-back, and various people gave speeches about how the day changed the entire world and the entire world mourned. The official ceremony lasted between the exact times, ten years ago, when the first plane hit through when the second tower fell. There were tears, of course, including mine, because all Americans still feel the events of that day in a visceral, raw way.
I was brought to tears by the horror of the events of 9/11, but also by the show of solidarity by the French. I'm so grateful they gave us somewhere to go, something to do. Otherwise, we would have been sitting at home or wandering around the neighborhood pretending it was a normal day when it wasn't a normal day.
This is a group of French firefighters who showed up carrying American flags. Several wore FDNY hats. They were somber, and sincere.
We didn't stay for the whole ceremony. The intense security repeatedly reminded me it may not have been the safest place to bring Lucien. By the third time we saw a group of cops run past us full speed to surround someone, I decided it was time to go. The terrorists scared MJ away from the 9/11 memorial ceremony, and for that I'm not exactly proud.
Thank you, just thank you, France, for giving a sh*t** about our pain.
**not ornery, I really mean that one.
Lucien took a spin on the carousel on our walk back to the metro. It felt good to watch Lucien, head thrown back laughing out loud, after re-living that day ten years ago. I didn't even care I was watching him in the middle of a downpour.
Phew. Done. Cleansed.
In more upbeat news, I've now received several emails on the subject and am pleased to report "assorted toast" is sweeping several nations.
Hugs to all my people,