This blog isn't meant to be political, but I found this today and really thought it needed to be shared with the world. My sentiments exactly.

As for the rest of my mundane existence....we're very close to getting our apartment finished and ready for use by my parents who are coming to visit next week. Not that we'll be home much. I've already planned an action-packed itinerary for every one of the 14 days they are with us. I hope they remember to bring their pills.

My daughter, Grace, is still keeping me on my toes, literally. In fact, I had a minor surgical procedure done on my left big toe the other day (it was so insignificant, I won't even go into detail), and later that night, once the anesthesia had worn off, it really started to hurt. So I did what any normal person would do--I scarfed down a couple of Darvocet. Good stuff, by the way. I never lost consciousness, but I definitely zoned out for a while, and at some point I gave Grace permission to give me a makeover and draw "tatoos" on the bottom of both feet with a permanent black marker. I'm really lucky, actually. She first tried to draw them on my lower back. I'm sure that would have looked great with my ultra-low rise jeans and red lace thong. The moral of the story---do I really have to spell it out for you??

Oh, and today, I finally found about 8 missing receipts from various purchases I've made this week. Grace had folded them up into little fans and taped them all together. Thank God for on-line banking and carbon checks.

And thank God for little girls like Grace, who makes my world go round, even if it feels like it's spinning out of control......

When I was only 20 years old, I took a co-op position with the EPA in Atlanta, Georgia. My cousin, Kim, graciously opened up her home to me in Roswell, so I packed up my meager belongings and set out for the city. Now, you must understand that at this point, I had spent most of my life living in small, rural towns in south Georgia, which meant that I had little big-city driving experience. I knew it would be an adjustment for me, but I had no idea just how crazy Atlanta drivers could be. My dad drove me to Atlanta, helped me unload my boxes and set up my bed, and then decided that we should wander downtown to find the office where I would start working the following Monday. My dad is a wanderer, an adventurer. He will drive into a new city, sans map, and know every street, intersection, and alley way by heart within 24 hours. He's not afraid of getting lost or taking a wrong turn, and he seems to have this built-in sense of direction that drives Mom and me insane. He can do no wrong. I, on the other hand, get lost in my own driveway. Living in Germany makes it even worse because Europeans don't believe in directional signs, which means they don't tell you if you're going north or south or east or west. People still ask me, "Do you live east or west of the base?" and I always give the same answer: Huh? You can imagine the difficulty I had in a place like Atlanta.

Dad and I hopped in the car and set out for the interstate. I was confused before we ever made it out of the subdivision, which wasn't a good sign. It took about 20 minutes to get downtown via I-285, which is the bypass loop that circles around Atlanta. Really, 285 is just a big circle, so no matter which direction you head, you'll eventually get to where you want to go. But in rush hour traffic at 6:00 in the morning, it isn't a good idea to miss your exit. Which is exactly what I did my first day of work. I had to leave the house no later than 5:45, and by then traffic was already at a stand still. It was dark outside, my brain was in "sleep" mode, and I was scared to death. Sure enough, the exit to I-285 south was upon me and I was sitting in the wrong lane. I couldn't exit, and I couldn't get anyone to let me over to the right lane. So what did I do? I started crying. No, sobbing is more like it. I didn't continue driving, or attempt to turn around at the next exit, or try to push my way in like a local. Nope, I just sat there, with my blinker on, and wept...like a baby. Of course, people were honking at me and yelling (and I can imagine some of the words they were throwing my way), but I sat still, cried, and prayed for someone to let me over into the exit lane. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, someone took pity on my poor soul and let me in. I made it to work, on time, but I was frazzled and my makeup was ruined and I vowed never to drive in Atlanta again....at least until 4:00 that afternoon, when it was time to go home.

After a couple of weeks, I was driving like an Atlanta pro--cutting people off, honking my horn, running red lights (sorry, Dad), outrunning the cops....just kidding! Of course, that was many years ago, and since that time, I've once again lived in rural areas with little traffic. So you can imagine my fear as I drove through Paris last week on our trip to Normandy. Because Atlanta traffic doesn't even BEGIN to compare with Paris. Our first mistake was leaving K-town in the afternoon so that we hit Paris at rush hour, about 5:00. Traffic was bumper to bumper. Literally. At one point we were actually rear-ended by a French lady driving a roller-skate. She didn't even bother to pull over or stop to exchange insurance information. She just scooted around us and went about her business, as if that is common place in Paris. Of course, compared to her skate, my car looked like a monster truck on steroids, so we figured she probably sustained more damage anyway...no big deal.

What was a big deal were the motorcycles that drive IN BETWEEN cars whether they are moving or not. They come out of nowhere and zoom past at lightning speeds. It's crazy. Talk about cutting to the front of the line. At one point I was so stressed, I thought sure I'd suffer an aneurism before we ever got outside the city limits. Oh, and there are no rules of the road in Paris. Okay, so there are rules, but no one follows them. You just go or get run over. Push your way in and force your way out. Pure insanity.

Coming back was much, much easier. Traffic was lighter and I had a better idea of where we were going. Plus I got an awesome view of the Eiffel Tower on the way into the city. It is truly a majestic sight to see. So the next time we go to Paris, I'll be driving like a pro...oh, who am I kidding? The next time we go to Paris, we'll go on a train! Vive la France!

Last week we FINALLY got the heck out of Dodge...I mean Germany...and made our way across the border into France. We had a 5-day excursion to Normandy planned for Troy's 11th birthday. Gosh, just saying those words makes me feel incredibly old. Anyway, we loaded up the car early Wednesday morning and set out for a new adventure.

Let me just stop right here and give a super big THANK YOU to one of the greatest school teachers I've ever had, Mr. Lou Tiller. Mr. Tiller was my very larger-than-life French teacher for 4 years at Vidalia High School in south Georgia. He was one of my favorite teachers (and had I been chosen as Star student, I would have picked Mr. Tiller as Star teacher.....right after Mrs. Eidson). Anyway, Mr. Tiller did his job and did it very well. It's been 14 years since my last French class, and yet the language came back to me as if I'd studied it my whole life. I always thought I could "survive" in France, as I have always remembered the most vital questions like "Do you speak English?" and "Where is the bathroom?" But I did more than survive last weekend; I interacted. I held conversations. I bought souvenirs at the market in St. Lo. I asked for directions to a restaurant and then understood those directions. I navigated our way to Normandy by reading traffic and road signs. Now I'm not saying that I spoke perfect, fluent French (I'm sure I massacred quite a bit of their beautiful language), but after 8 months of feeling like a fish out of water in Germany, I was finally at peace traveling in a foreign country. For that I owe Mr. Tiller a world of gratitude.

Traveling through France was beautiful. The French countryside was exactly as I had always imagined it to be. Rolling hills, quaint little villages, huge fields full of beautiful flowers and other vegetation. It was hard to focus on driving when all I wanted to do was observe everything and soak it all in. We stopped at a rest area not far into France for Grace to use the bathroom. All I can say is GROSS! It was the nastiest potty I've ever seen. I had to hold her six inches above the toilet seat for fear that some vicious micro-organism would jump on to her rear end and cause the next Eboli outbreak. It was horrible. I decided to hold it, and hold it I did for the next 200 kilometers. Blake was amused because in the men's room there wasn't even a potty, but rather a couple of holes in the ground. In the poetic words of my husband, he just had to "aim and shoot." 'Nuff said.

Driving through France is seriously expensive. We had to buy gas on the economy. We're pretty fortunate in Germany to be able to use gas coupons that we buy through the base. This just means that we pay the average American price for gas, even when we're off base. You'd be amazed at the difference in cost. Europeans pay an average of $5.85 a gallon for gasoline. In some countries, like the Netherlands, it's even more expensive, topping out at almost 7 bucks a gallon (remember that the next time you're at the pump complaining). Outside of Germany, we have to pay what the Europeans pay, which means we bought gas at almost $6 a gallon while we traveled. Then there are the tolls you must pay for traveling French motorways. We spent almost 60 euro ONE WAY in tolls alone. And let's not forget that the dollar is almost worthless against the Euro. So......expensive gasoline + expensive tolls + worthless dollar = very broke Smith family. C'est la vie.

Driving through Paris was a whole other adventure, which I will write about in a separate blog. You just thought Atlanta was bad. We did manage to catch a quick view of the Eiffel Tower. Sweet. I can't wait to visit in the summer with Daniel and Amy (my brother and sis-in-law), so come on guys! Get packing and get ready to travel the world!