Apparently, today is Saturday morning...

It's about 1 or 2 am my time and apparently, someone said it's Saturday today. It's really like the movie Groundhog Day to me. Everyday is the same. I wake up and work, go to sleep. Repeat. So if today is INDEED Saturday as they say, it means today's my last day in this sleepy little town. We head to Paris on Sunday at like 11 am! Yay! Today we ran through our entire show and it felt good to make so much progress. It's been like slow motion and now it's all catching up quickly at the end.

I haven't had much time to use it, but Slingbox rocks! You can watch your tivo or DVR from abroad. It's VERY comforting to have access to American TV. This coming from a xenophile, a francophile even, who LOVES to experience other cultures and to learn french stuff. But after hours speaking another language, living another language, something's got to be familiar. And TV is that. And at hours when I can't talk to Mark because of the time difference, I can watch tv at $.08 per hour! Our internet rates will be better in Paris. And I think we'll have free internet at the venue (we do here, but we have to be taken to the venue) and I think we can roll over there whenever.

Seems pretty banal to travel abroad and then watch tv, but believe me, you crave something from home. I LOVE France. I could live in France. But I'd have to pay a friend to either get an extra dvr in their house for me to slingbox, or I'd have to just buy all the American tv series DVDs. When I used to want to live in France (during college) I always feared missing out on American Culture, but it's not really so anymore. You can buy stuff on Itunes, listen to radio on websites, etc. The world has gotten smaller.

As much as I loved my french family's breakfast during my high school exchange program to Lyon, I've been on breakfast strike at the hotel for the last 3 days. Tartine au beurre (baguette w/butter and jelly), yogurt, hot chocolate... It's cool, but it's terribly redundant at a hotel. It's continental breakfast, REALLY continental. So I've been skipping breakfast (technically, we don't have enough time to get 2 meals, it's either breakfast or lunch, so I've opted for lunch) and going places to have, get this, HOT FOOD! What a concept. Something warm that isn't a sandwich. Something not made of ham or cheese. Debbie and Charis are probably cracking up! I love ham. I love cheese. But believe me, when you get only 1 or 2 meals a day, you get crazed.

So much for the stick-on bra. Tried to use it during rehearsal tonight and was positive my right breast was going to fall off about 4 songs from the end. We've got these backless numbers that are very low in back and I have 3 options: stick ons with silicone, stick on fabric and a bustier. I didn't think I liked to bustier, but now, hmmm. I've got stories y'all. Some can't be told just yet until the show starts, but I've got outfit stories. You'll roll.

We're getting much love from the french men. All VERY respectful and nice, they can see my rock from about a mile away with the spotlights, but they are all super impressed with a) all the black American women here and b) me especially, because I speak french. This guy told me tonight (not even normally very friendly at all) that he thought I was fabu because my pronunciation and accent is great and that I have 'french charm.' God I'd love to have a style guide next to me to figure out the stupid rules with quotes. Grammar be damned. I'm lucky to be able to steal this time to write anything at all, much less proofread or second guess anything.

Whatever. Anyhow, much french respect. I get it from the girls too, but there's only 2 girls on staff sort of. It's production oriented, so it's a bunch of guys. There's a group of them that will NOT speak to us under any circumstances. It seems as if either someone's put the fear of god into them, or they think we'll be a bunch of dumb American divas. No comment. :) There's a single girl in the group with a LOT of cleavage who gets all the serious attention that has intentions behind it. Good for her. The rest of us are not trying to have it at all. Actually, I don't think they have any serious intentions at all. We're cute little oddities that are interesting and fun to look at, but they are so polite here at work. The streets of Paris will be quite different. I remember walking through Pigalle in high school with a messed up head of half-relaxed hair and a ton of new-growth (wasn't letting the french touch my hair with chemicals) and getting hit on nonetheless in very limited English. "Hey American black bebe!" Like that's supposed to impress me and make me stop for a chat? I find it quite interesting how little time it takes french people to narrow in on the fact that you're black, yet not African. Big difference here. Sort of like the difference between being Brazilian in America vs. Mexican. American blacks have this Swedish blonde type of cache about themselves. I saw on french tv their version of Black/White, where they took these people and reversed their races. It was amazing how openly racist people were, yet it's a totally different type of racism. It's specifically about where you're from as much as you're color. They are not in love with northern Africans at all. I didn't catch all of it, but what I caught was deep. They also had an interview with some professor type guy who was talking about how you could be treated better in France if you could learn to fake an American accent, than being an actual black french person! Crazy. I think it's wrong, but it's working for me right now, ain't it?

I miss Mark to death. I miss my doggies. The only time I've cried since I've been here is when I was licked to death by a yorkie in the lobby of the hotel one day and when I left to get on the elevator, it was perched on the back of the sofa looking for me. I starting tearing up before I even got to my floor. I get to talk to Mark, but I don't get to see my babies.

But believe me, it's all in the plan. And the comedy and drama that goes on here is fodder for years to come - that part is priceless. The other part that's priceless is the quality of musicians in our band. Not a slouch among them. All big names, all great players. And there's a keyboardist who reminds me much of my late friend, Hank Bartlett, Deb's husband. I can't tell what it is, but something about his spirit just reminds me of Hank. I liked him instantly and he's an older guy, just became a grandad last week while we were here, and doesn't talk much. So technically, I don't know him at all, but he SEEMS so much like Hank that I kind of can fill in the blanks. Sometimes that works against people too. I remember resisting befriending this girl at BET for almost a year because she looked like somebody who I didn't like. I couldn't really get over it. But this guy looks NOTHING like Hank, he just has some inner spirit stuff.

Life is good. Our work here is STUPENDOUSLY challenging, even for the french staff. But I just have that feeling that it'll all payoff and very soon. Our first show in next weekend and I think we're going to do great at the 11th hour.

Alright, it's 2:18 now, so I'm hitting the sack for real this time.