Busy Nothings

“…life is nothing but a quick succession of busy nothings.” – Jane Austen in a letter to her sister Cassandra, regarding everyday occurrences

It’s one of my classically favorite Jane Austen quotes and it eloquently sums up my weekend.

Busy nothings.

I took the weekend off. No traveling, no planning, and no “To Do” lists allowed. It was cold and rainy for most of the weekend, so I stayed cozy and dry --loving every second. I’m fairly certain the last time I was this unproductive was Junior year of high school when I got mono.

Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but not too far from the truth. Saturday I woke up with – get this – no alarm and it wasn’t because I beat the alarm time to ringing.

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Q: Where the hell is the Rome entry? Didn’t you have a good time? Elaine you suck as a blogger.

A: I had a fabulous time, so fabulous that I need to do it proper justice. I’ve been lazy, so here’s my weekend and last week in retrospect. Expect a finished Rome entry tomorrow unless I get lazy again.
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Boring Recount of the Busy Nothings

Recently my appetite resembles one of a pregnant women. Except instead of odd combinations, I crave random foods I eat regularly at home. Friday, I fixated on Chinese food. Leave it to the French to prefer Thai over Chinese, but I’m not too picky. Asian’s Asian. All look like right? JUST KIDDING.

After work I sought out a place recommended by someone in the lab. The food was very good, and my waiter was in his late 20’s, Asian, was born in France but has lived in Boston for 10 years now and is only back visiting family for the summer. Since I was the only patron in the restaurant, we talked for awhile about things we missed, things we liked, random American traits, etc.

It was nice to have someone to talk to and reminded me that part of why I’ve been feeling homesick is that I’m just plain lonely. Aside from the people I work with and loved ones I communicate with via internet, I don’t have a lot of consistent interaction. Gee, the waiter, gave me his card and said if I needed help with my French or wanted to talk to another American I could stop by anytime. He also kept repeating, “From Texas, what a small world!” lol

Saturday I woke up, sans alarm. I hopped on my European bike and went riding through the open air market, browsed, and then did the American thing and went to the grocery store. Yes, I know, I’m crazy, especially since I enjoy the open air markets so much. However, it’s easy to get ripped off and sanitary standards are sometimes questionable.

Off to grocery store, where I did my shopping of the week. This also reminds me that nothing incites the urge to cook like chemistry, homesickness, and the realization that you’re going to fail your MRS degree if you don’t develop a skill.

I figure if I can make highly toxic chemicals all day long, how hard can edible things be? This weekend I made teriyaki chicken, fried rice, BBQ chicken, soup (ok cheated and heated this one up, but I garnished it!) and had a blast.

It’s also nice that if something screws up, the secret is safe between me and France.

After my morning excursion I attempted to seek out Ikea in a far east suburb of Strasbourg. I thought that since I’d be shopping and eating Swedish meatballs in Austin, this would be appropriate for France while I’m homesick. Eventually I gave up on the idea after biking awhile and settled on an asparagus quiche from one of my favorite bakeries.

Have I mentioned that I love quiches?

Afterwards I headed into the lab to do an acid-base workup on a product. The only interesting thing here was that someone put acetone in the distilled water bottle, which meant I distilled my hydrochloric acid in acetone.

Almost ruined my product and my day. I think it turned out ok in the end.

I also discovered you can rent movies on iTunes, and rented 27 dresses for the night. I really enjoyed the movie, especially after a glass of local Gewürztraminer.

Sunday: The day when everything but the park ice cream stand is closed

I went to church in French. That was interesting. French Catholics just like to stand the whole time because we knelt once. If St. Thomas More had wooden benches and kneelers, this would be my preference too.

Was going to go bike across town to see Sex and the City, but it was cold and rainy.

Instead I did nothing. I mean nothing.

I organized my favorite places on the computer. I cooked. That’s it. No laundry, no blog, no nothing.

Simply fabulous.

Monday came around and I procrastinated on this blog entry until right before I went to bed. Oh well.



Last week: Rome Preview


Spending the weekend in Roma was a bit like living a Dean Martin soundtrack. The skeptics thought I couldn’t pull off Rome in a weekend – and I certainly won’t claim to have seen it all – but Elizabeth and I experienced the infamous highlights and took plenty of time to soak up the atmosphere over numerous gelatos, brunches, lunches, and evenings. I can even say Elaine, power walker extraordinaire, wore herself out walking the entire city.

Last Week: Homesickness in Retrospect

Friday we get a visit from Dr. Duran, the University of Florida coordinator for the program. The week came to pass with nothing more exciting than my BBQ discovery. I’ve discovered that chemistry epitomizes “just wait: time will tell.” I waited the entire week for THF (tetrahydrofuran, a solvent) to dry after what will now be referred to as the “THF incident.” It was a list of “opps, someone turned it off in the middle of the night” ‘s; “shit, someone just used the last of it” ‘s; and “just start over” ‘s. Plenty of other reactions to keep me busy, but such is the life in chemistry.

Life in the lab also seems to define the classic novel “If you give a mouse a cookie.”

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Q: What is this book? Why have I not read it?

A: Because your parents hated you as a child. The plotline is tad complex, so I’ll do my best to summarize it.

There’s this mouse. He wants a cookie.

If you give him the cookie, he wants a glass of milk, then something else has to be done afterwards, and if you do that, something else needs to happen, and so on. My family references this book often: this concept defines my life.

Also of note is the lesser known sequel: “If you give a moose a muffin.” I’m serious.

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As previously mentioned, Monday started stirrings of homesickness. I felt it coming on as early as last week. Seeing Elizabeth helped yet made coming back to Strasbourg – where my longest acquaintance doesn’t even predates May 5 – harsh.

Sad-face Salad - Last Monday when I was homesick and back from Rome

Really, this story is rather embarrassing. I’m only allowing it to live longer via blog because I’m hoping all you readers will find it of amusement.

After a weekend of gelato, pizza, pasta and wine I decided that in interest of my waistline a salad would be the best choice for lunch. I’m also convinced that even the air in Italy
contains carbs, but this has yet to be proven.
Everyone in the lab had an opinion on where I should NOT go, and only one suggestion on where I should. Only problem was that I got ambiguous directions. Out of hunger, I went to the wrong place.

The salad was pathetic. Plain lettuce, raw onions (which I’m not a fan of), and they COVERED the whole thing in this thick dill dressing. Those who know me best know that I always get my dressing on the side, or risk not eating the salad.

I was hungry and frustrated. I just went to another place, where I could see the food, and ordered a second salad. I then went to the park, and got really upset and frustrated. The first time for tears in France. What didn’t help was that the French like to openly gawk. I had my moment, got it together Elaine style, and went back into the lab.

On my way home after triumphantly buying the BBQ sauce, a 12 year old ran right into me on her bike. It was a head on collision, and my bike didn’t move because the basket was packed with groceries. I flew off and smashed my pelvic bone.

It hurt so bad, I wanted to sue. She asked me if I was ok in French, and I just grumbled in English “oh my God I’m going to die.” She peddled off and I sat on bench holding/rocking myself.

Men think they know crotch pain. At least I had the foresight to keep the eggs in my backpack and as the pain subsided found the situation humorous considering the timing that day.

Coming Soon:

ROME :: I promise!!!!