lost

Leaving. (Gare de Lyon Paris), a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

I lost the pendant I bought in February in Paris.

I was subconsciously aware during our dinner that the chain was caught in the scarf I was wearing, but it didn't really register. It wasn't until the scarf got twisted on my neck and I tried to adjust it that I realizeed the pendant top was gone. By then we were halfway home from the restaurant, walking on a dimly-lit street.

We looked around, on the sidewalk and in the grass surrounding it. A young couple pushing a stroller and a gentlemna with a dog stopped and helped us look. I walked back to the restaurant, looking down as I took every step, and even went inside to look and ask. No luck.



I have often thought about where lost things go. I wonder if there is a space in the universe where lost things congregate and share the stories of how they ended up there. Do they know that they're missed? Are they lost if we don't know that we've lost them?

I hope someone finds my pendant top, and cares enough to wear it or give it to someone who might enjoy it. Then it isn't really lost; it may be lost to me, but not to the world.

When we decided it was time to stop looking, the young mom who helped us look said, "Well, you just have to go back to Paris." If only it was so easy.

Paris is no longer a two-hour train ride away.

october friday

Pumpkin spice latte and a book about London., a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

...and I'm dreaming of London.

october.

Clouds in the sky, leaves on the ground., a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

September zipped by while we were too busy unpacking and trying to settle. I don't even know what happend to July and August -- I don't think they existed for us this year.

We are, in any case, in our new home. Our own home, surrounded by our own furniture, our art, our books. We have new routines, new friends, new issues to tackle, new advendures to make.

Here are some of the things I am excited about:

1. My desk faces the window (for the first time ever!), and the view of the trees outside is just what I need. Writing now is more meditative than it has ever been.

2. Lots and lots of great Asian food. And I don't mean just the restaurants (although there are plenty). My next door neighbor is Korean, and he just brought over the first batch of the kimchi he made the other week. I had a big spoonful, not even with rice but just plain kimchi alone, and it was mmm, mmm, MMMMM. The only sad thing was that I didn't have any beer to go with it.

3. We have family, relatives, and old friends to look up. We've lived the nomads' lifestyle for several years, and while we met many interesting people and made many good friends, it is always a treat to reconnect with people with whom we share the earlier chapters of our history. I feel home now, rooted and comforted.

The morning air is chilly these days, and the leaves are starting to change colors. We've already gone apple picking, and are looking forward to visiting pumpkin patches and having freshly made apple cider. We'll do the hay rides and corn mazes, too.

This is where we are, this is our life, here and now.

What a lucky bunch of scarecrows we are.

home sweet Washington, D.C.

Home sweet Washington, D.C., a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

It's good to be back.

last call

No.8 rue Godefroy, 6eme., a photo by cocopuff1212 on Flickr.

We have visitors until Friday morning and we move to a hotel Sunday afternoon. The movers are coming on Monday. In the meantime, my son has two birthday parties to attend over the weekend.

I'm not sure how busy I will be during the next nine days, but I'm pretty sure I won't be spending much time on my laptop, so I decided to go ahead and post something quick in case this becomes my last update from Lyon, France. It probably will.


I took this photo this morning while walking toward Parc de la Tête d'Or. The building, No.8 rue Godefroy, 6eme arrond., has always stirred my imagination.

It's a rather grand building, standing all on its own on a tiny block with no neighbors. There is a big gate separating its courtyard from the street, and on the northern side, there is another small garden area, gated and fenced off from public.

All I can see of the inside is the ceilling lights on the second floor, and from the look of them, I know that the space is currently being used as a business office.


I fancy this building to be a mansion that once belonged to a very wealthy family but had to be sold off due to unfortunate circumstances. The harsh fluorescent lights I see through the windows are like cheap, ugly lipstick on an elegant lady -- they're incongruent, they don't belong with this beautiful building, and they make me sad.

I wonder who built, owned, and lived in this building. I wonder what happened to them. I wonder how many servants they had, what food they ate, what they wore. I wonder how many babies were born here, and how many deaths had to be mourned.

I am, of course, romanticizing. Now, if I was fluent in French, I could go to the Archives de municipales de Lyon and try to find out the history behind the building.

Alas, my French is too limited for that kind of project. It's too ambitious an endeavor anyway, because I have only nine days left in Lyon.