little old lady wonder woman

I need to share another tough-as-nails Parisienne story before I forget it.  Oftentimes these short, sweet stories get pushed aside because someone like Mr. Smiley Face comes along who must be dealt with immediately.  But I won't let that jerk eclipse the little old wonder woman of goodness.

I was on a busy street corner recently, waiting for green man to signal it was somewhat safe to cross.  Camille was in the stroller being her usual laid back, happy, lump-like self.  I looked down and noticed one of her shoes falling off so I quickly bent down to grab it.  Shoes aren't cheap around here.  Losing one is tragedy.

At the same time, a little old lady, at least eighty years old quite likely more, walked past us.  She moved slowly across the uneven sidewalk and leaned lightly on a cane.

I pulled Coco's stroller closer to me for shoe replacement and suddenly the little old lady was airborne.  She lunged then was on top of us, gripping the handle of the stroller with all her strength.  I stood up quickly to see if she needed help.  I thought she'd tripped but she didn't look hurt; she looked terrified.

When she saw me pop up in front of the stroller, she startled a little, then smiled with relief.  "I was so scared!" she exclaimed, hand over her heart.  "I saw the baby rolling towards the street!"

When I'd pulled Coco towards me, old lady ninja had seen the stroller moving towards the busy street but didn't see me down in front of it.  Without a second's hesitation, she lunged to save Ms. Cokes.  I thanked her profusely for doing what she did.  What a fantastic lady.  I hope I'm out on the streets saving babies left and right when I'm her age.

I ran into two of my favorite fellow Parisian bloggers last weekend at the Pompidou Center.  Modern art is not my favorite (is it anyone's?) but it was free museum Sunday and worth the trip for the building itself and view from the top.

The tube-like escalator and hallways of the Pompidou Center make me feel like a hamster in one of those delightful Habitrail maze cages.  I remember watching our pet hamsters crawl around theirs when I was a kid.  I felt jealous because it looked like such a cozy, fun place to live.  I wanted to live there, too, instead of our dumb house that didn't have a single tunnel.

If a giant exercise wheel and wall-mounted water bottle had been incorporated into the Pompidou Center design, I daresay I never would have left.  I would still be there, living out my childhood dream, probably in a nest of cedar chips over by the Matisse --oh good God, what the hell am I talking about just ignore it, ignore all of it.

Hamster

Hamster with a view

 Other hamsters

We walked into, then quickly pulled Lucien out of, an exhibit of erotic art.  It was a room full of vaginas.  There were a couple penises, too, but mostly giant vaginas.  (Hey, horny Google keyword searchers, go away;  this is not what you're looking for.)

There was one painting of a penis and a vagina, very close up, meeting each other in a very close way.  Lucien loudly asked, "What's that, Mommy?" and everyone within earshot pointed and laughed at us.  We were not prepared to have the sex talk with our four-year-old in front of an audience in the middle of the Pompidou Center so we just told him it was modern art and no one knows what this stuff is supposed to be. 

We got him out of the erotic exhibit and straight into an exhibit with creepy ghoulish puppet people watching a movie of a naked lady hula hooping with barbed wire. Modern art is perplexing.  Lucien stared at the ghoulish figures with wide, terrified eyes, then glanced up at the nude woman on the screen.  "I see she's boobies," he whispered softly, unable to resist mentioning boobies even though he was convinced of imminent attack by modern art. 

Let the modern art night terrors begin! 

Alex herded Lucien out the door as I checked out a few more exhibits (beeline back to the penis and vagina art).  I was on my way out, too, when I saw two people walking towards me who looked so, so familiar.  It took me a second to realize, but they were indeed my blog friends,  Karin from An Alien Parisienne and Paris Paul from Paris Inspired.

We've never met in person but we know each other because we read each other's blog thoughts.  I may have scared them a little when I squeaked their names but they recovered quickly and recognized me, too.  That made me feel like a somebody!  Then they were like, "Oh, hey, Coco, what's up?"  like they see her around every day.

We didn't chat long but it was the coolest thing to happen that day (besides the penis and vagina art).  I love being a Paris blogger.  It's like being part of a really, really large and not at all exclusive club.

And speaking of meeting awesome people through the blog, a quick au revoir to the DC Mommies.  They contacted me awhile back asking for some Paris trip planning advice and then we met for coffee while they were here and they are the coolest women ever. The rest of us women can give up now, title's been claimed.

So thanks, blog, for introducing me to all these people, these fellow bloggers and travelers, I never would have met otherwise.  It makes airing all the humiliation well worth it.


Little old lady ninja! Ka-pow!
MJ

 because I'm your little sister, that's why.