127/365

I live in a bizarre fantasy world, in which this sign is completely necessary.

126/365

There are some nights when I haven't taken a picture all day, and bedtime is fast approaching, and it takes every ounce of energy I have just to get off the couch at all. Usually the result is either an adorable cat portrait (I know you can never see too many of those), or an arty shot of something in the apartment.

I trust you know which one this is.

Zut alors!

As usual, I've waited until the last minute to plan. I bought my ticket back in February, for an unprecedented $600, forwarded the itinerary to a few people, bragged about the imminent crossing off of #1 on my list, and then did absolutely nothing else about it. That's just how I roll.

I've been wanting to go to Paris since, well, ALWAYS. And all things serendipitous lined up to make 2009 the year to do it: my adventurous Bossy Cousin is living there for the year and the Army Brat, who is currently working for NATO in the Netherlands, will need a new nickname as of December 1, when she gets out of the Army and moves back stateside. Once the offers and contracts were in for the 2009-10 season (more to come on that soon—I think it deserves its own post), it became clear that the only window in which I could travel was end of May–beginning of June. And then there was the gloriously cheap ticket price, and before you could say "Ooo la la" it was booked and happening!

But hélas, I have yet to do even a speck of planning for it. I have been attempting to find a place to stay, without much success. And other than wandering around with my camera, eating copious amounts of cheese, and finding the perfect beret, I don't know what I'll be doing in Paris.

Here's where you come in, chères readers. What do you love in Paris? Where are your favorite spots and secret hideaways? How would you spend your 8 days if you had them?

And if you happen to own a vacant apartment in Paris, feel free to share that with me as well, obvs.

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I've been feeling for a while that my 365 Project deserves a home here, so as of today I will be posting my photos here every day. If you want to catch up, the rest can be found on Flickr.

We moved CameraMan's piano in yesterday, and thank goodness we did. Without a piano at home, we might never have discovered The Bossy Cat's latent musical talent.

Friday morning, 3 AM

The Bossy Cat is being terrorized by the neighborhood bully, whom I have dubbed Stripey but generally refer to as That Bad Cat. Stripey comes to the front door (which has a floor to ceiling window in it) every night after dark to antagonize my sweet girl by pawing at the door and hissing. My poor kitten gets incredibly upset when That Bad Cat comes around. She paws back at him, and her breathing gets thick and labored, and she makes these little heart-wrenching cries. I try to soothe her, but there's nothing to be done about it until the bully decides he's had enough and goes away. CameraMan has started keeping a bottle of water by the door, and pouring it in Stripey's general direction to scare him off. Usually he comes right back in about 5 or 10 minutes, and we start the whole thing over again.

Photo by CameraMan

A few nights ago, That Bad Cat arrived around midnight. We were already in bed, but we heard the familiar pawstorm from downstairs, so CM went down, opened the front door, poured water out, and came back to bed. A few hours later, I woke up with a gasp, certain that I had just heard some kind of cat fight from outside, and immediately worried that The Bossy Cat was in trouble. CM and I stumbled downstairs to find the front door standing open and no sign of Lucy. My first reaction was, of course, to have a total meltdown, complete with crying and hyperventilating. We both ran outside in our pjs calling for her, and finally CM found her around the corner, sitting on the path. He scooped her up, brought her inside, and we all took some time to calm down. The whole event must have taken less than 5 minutes, but it was terrifying.

We haven't really figured out what happened. CM must not have locked the door after the midnight water throwing, but it's still a mystery how the cat opened it. And I still don't know why I woke up, what it was that I heard or sensed that told me Lucy needed me. CM thinks I must have heard the door opening, but I have another theory.

A mother always knows.