Paris (Photo) Journal

So excited.  I just ordered this album  from Snapfish.  It tells the whole story of our trip in pictures.
Editing over 1,500 pictures down to 'just' 437 photos and 86 pages took a lot of hours.  Even though I had to delete pretty ruthlessly, those hours were pretty decadent.  I avoided accomplishing a few other tasks for a few days, because this project was so fun.
So many pictures were left out, but the remaining 86 pages capture a lot of timeless moments, trigger deep emotions, and fill my mind with happy memories.  The images on the pages still feel magical to me, making me jittery and happy every time I look at them (even on the screen).  The real, leather bound, actual paper...printed book version won't arrive for another ten days.

Stay tuned for Paris Journal: Day Five.  It won't be long.  Well...it probably will be long....a long post, that is.  That's just how I roll.  But, you shouldn't have to wait long to read it.

*****************

Just checked my link....looks like you'll have to log-in to Snapfish to view the book.  Sorry about that.  

If you decide that you don't want to give them your email address and sign your life away to Snapfish forever, you'll just have to come visit me soon to see the real thing.   

Paris Journal: Day Three

This morning, I was anxious to get out of bed.  Tired, but eager to start the day.  Our plans included both the Musee D'Orsay and Versailles, both of which could take the better part of a day (or more).  I'd been planning my Paris wardrobe for weeks, so it was easy to get dressed...I was confident that we knew the city enough to get breakfast and take the metro.  I was up and ready to conquer the day.  Our two-day pass was ready to expire, and I had an agenda.  However, Ryan was (understandably) exhausted....and seemed (to me) to take forever to wake up and get ready.  I may have been a little panicky and nagged him just a bit.

Finally down the stairs and out into the street, we saved some euros (and time) buying our croissants and cafe cremes down in a little chain boulangerie in the metro station.  It seemed every bit as delicious and magical as the cafe variety....once we we arrived at our stop and walked through the Tuileries Garden to eat our breakfast.

We walked through the garden and over the bridge to the Musee D'Orsay.  Again, we were grateful for our Museum Pass which allowed us to skip a winding crowded line and go straight into the museum.  First, VanGogh, Seurat and the other neo-Impressionists...then off to the Impressionists.  These were the paintings I fell in love with as a child....poring over the little book of postcards of the Musee D'Orsay, given to me by my big brother Andrew and sister Lynn.   Some of the Renoirs....I had also seen as a teenager in a special exhibit in Chicago for a school trip.  To me they are almost sacred.

Degas sculptures and the paintings of Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir...breathtaking.  And the view of the city, from the top floor of the museum...looking out through the giant glass clock window.
A. Maz. ing.

When I first saw Monet's "Poppy Field" painting,  I tried to explain to Ryan that it was the print..a framed painting that hung in my bedroom as a little girl and all the way through college...another beloved gift from Andy and Lynn's trip to France.  As I realized how much it all meant to me, that painting, Andy and Lynn's formative roles in my life, so many of my now fulfilled dreams, being in this city, in this museum, in this room, with this painting, with the man I love...who has given all this to me...I started to cry a little.  Teary eyes, filled to overflowing with joy and the knowledge of being loved.


We also saw an interesting Finnish exhibit with rugged landscapes that reminded us both of the cabin.

Leaving the museum, we descended straight to the metro station below the Musee D'Orsay....which conveniently led us to the train bound for Versailles.  My exhaustion hit hard on the way and I fell in and out of sleep on Ryan's shoulder.  We were part of a mob-like crowd pouring out of the metro station, descending upon the ville of Versailles. It was after 12:00, so the crowd was hungry (including us).  We laughed about the strategically placed McDonalds and Starbucks, which, at first glance, appeared to be the only options for food.  But as we walked up the shady rue toward the Chateau, we were delighted to discover a quaint street packed with little cafes and bars and markets.  After walking up and down, we settled on the Aquarium, which was lovely and delicious and simple.  Our "trois fromage" sandwiches were made on one very long baguette, sliced open and cut in two, spread with green-leaf lettuce and layered with camembert, brie and fresh mozzarella, drizzled with light olive oil.  A perfect lunch.

The wait at Versailles was disappointing, especially after our "royal treatment" at the other museums with our passes.  The line snaked up and down the giant outer courtyard.  It was sunny and a bit hot, and fortunately, the line moved along.

Inside, the palace was beyond all descriptive terms such as elaborate, decadent, overwhelming, opulent, beautiful, ridiculous.   Enormous....stretching on and on, long corridors, giant rooms, grand staircases, it's own cathedral.  All covered, every square inch, with exquisite materials, precious stone, masterpiece paintings or carvings, grand sculptures.  Amazing to see.  Probably the only place of its kind and degree of grandeur in the world.  But the shoulder to shoulder crowds, covering every square inch of space was exhausting, suffocating, and also ridiculous.

By the end of the great Hall of Mirrors, (which of course, was impressive), we were feeling quite trapped, and more than ready to escape to the gardens, calling peacefully to us from the windows.  Since our pass excluded the gardens, but included the Trianon Palaces and Marie Antoinette's Estate (my most desired destination in Versailles), we were forced to decide: pay for the gardens (9 euros each) AND the tram tickets (7 euros each) to get to Marie's estate in just 15 pain-free minutes...OR take the 45 minute walk around the Palace, through the town, and around to the back of the estate all the way to Marie's cottage.

We walked.  And walked.

Our sore, blistered feet and aching calves might have caused regret...but it was truly one of the most beautiful walks we've ever taken.  I kept telling Ryan how dreamlike it was, how much it meant to me, how delighted I was with every view...the long straight dirt road, lined with perfectly symmetrical trees, along both sides, the rich green of the grassy pastures on both sides of the road, sheep on one sided, horses on the other.  It was like walking into a film I've always loved.

Eventually, the stone fairy-tale-esque cottages with quirky turrets and towers appeared through the trees.  We wandered through the paths, snapping as many photos as possible.  Every moment, I felt the struggle to keep taking it in...to fight the anesthetizing effects of so. much. Beauty!!  As we walked back towards the Chateau, we found the Trianon palaces too AND...the tram back to Versailles.  For only 3.70 euros a piece, we got a full riding tour of those same gardens we'd skipped out on earlier, and...they dropped us off inside the gardens to wander as we pleased.  The bargain that we had just arranged felt delightfully "tricky" and smart and made the end of our Versailles day twice as fun.

Back in Paris, we crossed back over the bridge, through the Tuileries, and wandered to a French restaurant that looked pretty traditional.  A L'auberge.  The eager waiter convinced us by enthusiastically waving us in.  And the "Prix Fixe" menu looked about right for our budget.  I ordered escargot and Supremes de Volailes and Ryan had a tomato and mozzarella salade with Confits du Canard.  As is so often the case, Ryan got it right with the duck.  It was so tender and buttery/salty tasting.  My chicken was okay, a little dry, despite the delicious creamy sauce, I thought, but the snails were a delicious "first" for me.  The shells were filled with a pesto-like sauce and melted butter...and the snails themselves were delicious and tender and salty.  mmmm..

We hadn't talked to the girls yet all day (no wifi), so we headed to a cafe for some cafe creme (for me) and of course, a crepe for Ryan, and a tiny little cup of cafe (very bitter).  The waiter was the only one we experienced in all of France, the kind that everyone warns you about, the caricature of french "rudeness", who seemed annoyed with our American presence, expecting us to order more than just one dessert and cafe...and waiting impatiently on us, frustrated to be wasting his time on a table such as ours.  I tried hard not to feel the pressure, but it was hard for me to feel the disapproving Frenchman's smugness.  So, I ordered creme brulee too.  And it was delicious.  But he still didn't like me.

It started to rain.  It was warm under the heated canopy outside the cafe, but the wind and rain threatened to intensify.  The people passing on the sidewalks and on motorcycles were getting drenched.  So, we paid the grumpy waiter and huddled under our little umbrella, walking briskly back around the square to our hotel.

Paris Journal: Evening Two (Eiffel Tower)

Our first full day in Paris was like a dream.  We had crossed several things (major things) off of our list: the Louvre, the Tulleries Garden, La Musee de l'Orangerie, Berthillon glace, Shakespeare & Co., sun-filled walks over bridges and wanderings along the Seine.  One major list item remained.  And for Ryan, it was near the top of the list, the Eiffel Tower.

After a little rest and planning time at the hotel, we took the metro back to the Opera station.  We had only briefly glimpsed it as we entered the city on our first afternoon.  We figured we could get a better look at the Opera, and then wander our way towards the Eiffel Tower.   But before we could find the entrance to the Opera, I spotted something I knew Ryan would love...the Paris Mac store!  Since there was of course, free wifi there, we spent a long time inside, 'face-timing' with the girls.  On our way back down into the metro, we grabbed coffees (to go---the American sized version from Starbucks) and headed to the Eiffel Tower.
Author's side note: This is one of my only regrets of the trip.  Side-tracked by the Mac store and our hurry to see the tower that night, we never entered the Opera....as in "Phantom of..."  If I weren't so utterly full from beautiful once-in-a-lifetime adventures, I would have cried as we drove away from it on our last day.  

After walking for two or three blocks from the metro stop, 'it' emerged... finally.... from behind the buildings and trees.  We could not have asked for a more beautiful evening for this magical moment.  The air was just slightly crisp, but the sky was filled with warm colors, yellows and pinks..and just a little hazy.

As we walked closer, we tried again and again....at every angle to capture its magnificence.

There were play grounds and parks, gardens, and food stands along the way.  One little side-trip off the path led us to one of our favorite views of the night.   (Ryan's beautiful photography and editing)

We seriously considered going up.  But we knew in advance that one of the elevators was out of order...the line was hours long.  And one of us is not fond of heights at all.  We opted to take a River Cruise instead.  A different kind of city view.

The Eiffel tower sits on the edge of the river.  So we walked underneath the tower, toward the Seine.  We found a sunset cruise that included a light dinner and wine, a "snack cruise." So we bought our tickets and boarded the bateaux mouche.  Squeezed tightly among rows and rows of wooden folding chairs, we found two perfect seats on the upper deck.  Everyone there was happy, of course.  It was really like all the movie versions of a river cruise in Paris.  Kissing and smiling and laughing and contentedly breathing deeply...we glided through the water under exquisite bridges and watched the city slowly light up.

The tower was just beginning to light up when our boat returned.  We had just enough time to skip up the stairs to record the sparkling lights before they were gone.  Apparently, we aren't the only YouTube contributors to think that this event is pretty cool.  You can probably find better videos of this...but here is ours.  Including our delighted laughter.

While Ryan captured that on the ipad, I was capturing this with the camera.

It took us a little too long to find the nearest metro station that night.  Block after block of dark alleys made us both begin to feel a little uneasy in this strange city with its language and culture we did not understand.  But eventually we ducked down into the warmth and familiarity of the metro station and soon we were sitting and swaying on the train, people watching, on our way to our safe and cozy little room.

Red

I love to collect little swatches of fabric...certain that someday I'll make something wonderful with them.

I found these ones today online. It's not quite the same as the real thing. But...





...sometimes it just takes color and texture and print to make my heart race a little...

it's not just the sepia...

...she's really *that* beautiful and delightful and surprising and funny.

back in june...

...we added an "Uncle Sean" to our little Corbin family.






But then, we had to say goodbye to Aunt Kelly and Uncle Sean.


Until last weekend!!
Their happy return was celebrated with a feast of Moussaka...

a friday evening of cheese cake, whipped cream and warm Irish coffee,
A sunny but cold Saturday was spent in a warm(er) tent, with bread bowls of stew, hot apple cider, and delightful Irish music.


my favorite of the bands, Scythian, actually impressed us more with their gypsy and Jewish flavored fiddling than the true Irish stuff.

We had to say good-bye again, but Christmas isn't too far away.

driving

The most dreaded part of my summer has instead become a glorious time of ...
independence,
inspiration,
reflection,
prayer,
learning French (I've actually finished a course on tape for the first time in my life---I've borrowed them from libraries at least 4 times now),
soaking up some opera, some Cole Porter, and Leonard Bernstein,
NPR,
long conversations with my Mandy,
misty mornings,
warm afternoon sunlight,
a Madeline L'Engle interview on tape,
Angela's Ashes audiobook...

Next up...A Wrinkle In Time (a long ago read, and sadly, forgotten book by my new favorite author).

If only my car didn't require so much gas...

...I think I could really learn to like driving.

(So..I probably should have spent the last hour studying for my mid-term ...instead of blogging. I wish I could find a way to safely do THAT while driving!)

wishing I wasn't 'the rich young ruler'

Poverty is so hard to see
When it’s only on your tv and twenty miles across town.
Where we’re all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus’ neighborhood.
Where He’s hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash.
He says, more than just your cash and coin,
I want your time, i want your voice.

I want the things you just can’t give me.


So what must we do?
Here in the west we want to follow You.
We speak the language and we keep all the rules...
even a few we made up.
Come on and follow me,
but sell your house, sell your SUV
sell your stocks, sell your security
and give it to the poor.
What is this?, Hey what’s the deal?
I don’t sleep around, and I don’t steal.

I want the things you just can’t give me


Because what you do to the least of these
my brothers, you have done it to me.

Because I want the things you just can’t give me.

-The Rich Young Ruler by Derek Webb

And despite the simplicity of the truth, I'm left feeling conflicted.

I really do love people deeply, and most of the time, generosity is an inherent response (though my motives aren't always innocent). My heart is ridiculously soft, pliable, sensitive, compassionate. But my unweildy pride and greed (thinly disguised as good and honest hopes, dreams, ambitions, plans) have grown up around it...twisting and intertwining like gnarled roots. They somehow convince me to just not care. To pretend to be ignorant to the depths of the poverty around me, to justify my choices by comparisons.

I really like to be known as a person that cares about social justice. To be 'all about' peace and love and anti- consumerism, materialism, and corporate america, and Western values that promote self advancement...at any cost. But to be completely honest, I spend so much of my time imagining an even better life for myself... time and money to travel, a bigger house with more space to entertain, a 'study' with room for all our books to be stored in elegant book cases, dressers for our bedroom made of real wood, a dining room set with matching chairs (instead of our hand-me down, wobbly table, and chairs the wrong color....poor me, right?), a porch, a fireplace, a whirlpool tub, a washer and dryer like the ones all the cool people have...(I'm already feeling that familiar buzz of pleasure just imagining it all again...) There are uglier ways to put it. When I'm altogether truthful, I'll call it covetousness, greed, lust.

At a dinner party once, Jesus said to his hosts, "You are so careful to clean the outside of the cup and the dish, but inside you are filthy--full of greed and wickedness! Fools! Didn't God make the inside as well as the outside? So clean the inside by giving gifts to the poor, and you will be clean all over."

I can do that...I give gifts to the poor. Pretty generous ones (...I like to tell myself). But they're still gifts that don't really hurt, or stretch my budget. Ones that allow me to maintain (maybe even upgrade from time to time) my lifestyle.

And to someone else with a similar fortune to mine, He said, "There is still one thing you haven't done. Sell all your posessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then, come follow me."

"...I want the things you just can't give Me."

Meet.......

Maya Grace

She weighs 12 ounces, has a beautiful pumping heart, and as you can see....a well developed brain.
Maya really likes to keep her arms and hands up in front of her face, so the ultrasound technician had to 'look through' the arm to get the lovely profile shot above...she also looked through the skull :)

To see more pictures, visit Maya's blog.

By the way...

...if you'd like to hear our baby's heartbeat, you can listen to Ryan's cell phone recording from the doctor's office today.

We were pretty impressed with our child's amazing health and talent. I think you will be too.

go listen

More Baby Stuff...

If you are interested in reading every detail of our baby's existence thus far...and all the random thoughts of a new expecting mother...
click here

If not, just ignore that link.

Two months ago, the night before school started, Ryan and I stared at the image above in disbelief.

Shaking....with excitement, terror, indescribable happiness.

Yes, this is an announcement.

And here is a picture of our baby at only six and a half weeks...



As we watched the ultrasound monitor in amazement, we also listened to our baby's heartbeat. I have never heard music as beautiful as that sound.

That was more than a month ago. Now, our baby, an impressive two and a half inches long, has all of his or her organs, fingers, and toes. Even the eye color has been determined. Though, I can't feel it yet, he or she now moves around, swimming in the amniotic fluid.

In about six months, (sometime around May 9th) we will get to meet our baby.

Tomorrow, I'll be twelve weeks pregnant, and I will tell my students my secret. It has been the hardest secret I've ever kept in my life. I can't wait to let it out. (If you read this before Tuesday morning the 25th, try not to spoil my news at school.)


We cherish our alone time together. It's going to be an adjustment that we could never be fully prepared for. But I can't wait to do this together. To be parents.

Ryan is a masterful dancer. You should have seen him tonight. Every woman there was filled with envy as we danced the rumba and the foxtrot.

We're thinking about crashing a wedding reception soon...just to show off our moves.

Feminist for Life

Just found a feminist website that I love. I think you will too.

a good weekend

Mondays are a decadent pleasure I never feel I deserve after a restful weekend. However, I think without the extra day, I would lose my sanity.
Today, after having my blood drawn and an eye appointment, I picked Ryan up on his lunch break to enjoy the Olive Garden.
Never-ending Pasta" for him, and "unlimited soup, salad, & breadsticks" for me. As he dreaded going back to his "office space" world, we dreamed of how we could both have flexible jobs...so that we could be home more and together more. It's only been three years, but we never tire of spending time together. For being such opinionated, cynical, fault finding people, we seem to like *eachother* a whole lot. I'm sure there is some danger in that. But I think I'm pretty lucky.

Saturday morning, we woke up without an alarm...to the sun streaming in our windows and our long sheer curtains blowing in the wind. The rest of the morning was filled with cleaning, laundry, and baking banana bread. On our way to the beach for a hike in the dunes, we stopped at our favorite local bakery for a peach-strawberry smoothie...and the "Sardine Room" restaurant for some crab mournet.
Sitting at the top of the dune, we ate and tried to soak in the beauty around us. It was just cool enough to wear sweaters and sweatshirts. Right now, I can hear the restful sound of the leaves being rustled by the wind, but there is nothing like the sound of the waves at Lake Michigan. The path through the woods in the dunes was covered with leaves and smelled like cedar and pine and earth. I felt like I was in the woodshed at the cabin, breathing in the smell of freshly cut firewood. Why don't I spend every spare minute at the beach?


Saturday night, I got to play again at the Dogwood Center's Black Box theatre. It's fun to be performing again. In late October, I'm going to record some violin/cello accompaniment for one of the artists. It'll probably be a 'free' gig, but very rewarding and fun.
I realized on Saturday, as I saw lots of the same people again...how genuine they were. The musicians I met a month ago asked the usual questions about my job...about Ryan, etc. But they really wanted to know. One new friend even asked Ryan if he was excited to be finishing school this week. How did he remember that? I barely talked to him? I was humbled by their real sense of acceptance and community...outside of my usual 'church' kind of community. I don't think I'm a very good listener. But I want to be that kind of friend.