I’m going to a writer’s conference in Canada in October. They are having a contest for stories. The deadline for entry is 3 August. Today is my day off from the gym (there is a higher power!), so I am putting my paper on “Opening the Flood Gates of Retail Bank Product Innovation: Technology Drivers to Realize the Future” (I mean really doesn’t that just make you hot?) off until tomorrow as it is not due until Sunday night and working on my story instead. I don’t know why but I work well in restaurants (preferably with bars and good lighting) when writing, so I took myself off to Paul’s – which everyone seems to know the directions to by the by. Unlike Moving, which is a hit and miss deal (but I have the address down now). I did another walk around Agdal trying this time to ask store owners if they had a bed/breakfast table, no joy and it was way too hot for a longer walk so I retired to Paul’s after about forty minutes or so. I found myself an ideal position with my back to the wall and a view of the room. Lunch was good (it’s not Le Grand Comptoir, but I would not be comfortable sitting there working for two hours either) but the service was excellent as was the café’ au lait. I got through all my notes and managed a through editing of the story so far.
The story, “Three for Matilda”, has a story… This is not a tale I would ever have chosen to write. I like writing stories where stuff blows up or there is time or interdimensional space travel and a good deal of saucy humor. I wrote the beginning of this story during the winter quarter for a Creative Writing class (which was really good) and my professor went nuts for it. She insisted I finish the story for my final, then said it couldn’t, shouldn’t be finished in a story but I should turn it into a novel. Crap! I never wanted to write the bloody thing in the first place, I don’t even know what happens; but now I am stuck with it because I think it might be good as well. It is a good problem to have I admit.
After the ver-r-r-ry long lunch I took a taxi over to Souissi Marjane mini-mall in hopes of a table at the fancy-dan bedroom place. There were already two young girls in the back (sometimes the taxis will pick up double fares if you are headed in the same direction; and I really did not want to stand in the sun). When we arrived at Marjane the driver cut the fare by almost ten dirhams because of the double fare, they don’t always do that (this after he had made the girls throw out their cigarettes when he noticed my nose wrinkling and my fan working overtime). I love that, so I over tipped him like mad.
When we were passing about a block or so from Dessange I saw a stork’s nest on top of one of the streetlights!!!! So cool! I will walk down there next week (the forecast is 39C, so it may be a few days) and get a photograph. It was huge!
I had even remembered the French word for table but I couldn’t remember the word for bed, just for monkey – all in all not very helpful.
I worked hard this week and was missing Q a bit so I indulged in some shopping therapy, works every time. First Planet Sport for a new swimsuit and cap – Speedo in blue. I thought for a moment there they had some of those New Balance skirt/shorts that I wear to run and work out in, but no, just tennis skirts and the shorts are toooooo short on those (yikes! no one wants to see that when you are sweating over 56 kg on the squat!).
I also need a parasol; I can’t imagine trying to describe that! I have one of the lovely paper and wood Japanese ones, but it is with my ‘stuff’ in storage. Perhaps when I go to Spain?
Then to the fancy bedroom store where the nice shop lady who only spoke French was unable to understand why a monkey would want a table in his bed. She had some beautiful towels and a robe to die for with a matching towel all embroidered with flowers and a butterfly just on the edges – lovely and really quite reasonable for the work. Good towels are so very expensive here, and the inexpensive ones shed on you like a desert dust storm; which explains why Q’s grandmother for my birthday and Q’s (just because you are the only grandchild gift) gave us the most luscious towel sets. I mean really – like butter! But I decided to do the old three-day-wait on the robe as it is still too hot to wear any such thing and it is too fancy for a swim robe.
Then I was off to the shops for clothes. I found a great shirt by Boss to wear with jeans and dress them up a bit, and a beautiful pink linen tulip (turn that upside down in your heads gents) skirt. I bought the shirt but I will wait for the skirt to go on sale as it was overpriced for this late into the summer, but oh so lovely.
I was window-shopping when Maison du Caftan caught my eye with a beautiful window display. As I went over I saw the lace fan in the window and almost tripped with glee getting into the store. I collect fans. I used to collect teacup sets when I was in one place for longer than a few months. I am a ‘collector’, but I only like to collect things I use. She brought out another lace fan, one in black and one in white. THEN she brought out one with a black wooden face with silk edging. That’s it in the photograph. Isn’t it gorgeous? And it is one of the large ones, I am so excited. I wanted a lace one too but I will have to get it next time. Too much indulgence will spoil your complexion.
Then I went into Morocco’s version of Ikea because the lady at the bedroom shop said, “They have all the “la tabs” made. But alas, no joy.
Then I walked past Caterpillar shoe store and spotted Merrell sandals in the window – again with the sprinting into the shop. When I was visiting Boston in March I stocked up on bras, shoes, computer, and books. I am a fanatic on good shoes and good bras, two items where you should never skimp. I have high arches and I prefer high.. well you get the idea. It was the Morocco story again with the supply. They had the style I wanted but only in one color, in one pair, in my size. Orange, a pretty orange but I have never had orange shoes before! The one pair of red were one size too big, the one pair of black were one size too small, and I don’t care WHAT size those putrid green ones were! Nonetheless I am thrilled.
The last stop was Marjane’s for canned cat food for M.C. because I am not going to cater his raw chicken, vitamin, organic gourmet dishes that Q makes for him.
I was on my way home at 1730 hours when my mobile chirped and this message appeared: “Sausage & beans are cookd, eat pls.” From Q. A little role reversal. She knows me so well. She cooked for me before she left for the week-end and put it in the ice box. I was very good; I picked up fresh bread from the hannut on the way to the house and had my first purchase of the day – macaroons from Paul’s (heavenly) for desert.
I watched “Good Night and Good Luck” again for about the tenth time while having my dinner (which was delicious dear, thank you). Doesn’t it give you hope that someone as pretty as George Clooney is that smart?
What a great day and I got work done as well!
On this Sunday Morning I read an article in the International Herald Tribune (IHT) about the call for NASA to support research into “weird life”. They go on to mention the possibility of life forms based on other than a water base, such as silicon or carbon chemistry. I have two things to say on this: one, duh! Have they never read EE “Doc” Smith? He said that in 1949. Two, if they want signs of weird life… well I ask you have these people never been to Britain? We bring our weird life right down into the parlor and have them for tea.
My favorite quote was this:
"Nothing," the report concluded, "would be more tragic in the American exploration of space than to encounter alien life and fail to recognize it."
Really, make up your own jokes.