Whether the weather

Paris forecast:  rain, sixties during the day, forties at night.
I don't care.
First of all, I'll be in Paris.
Second of all, I love rain.

I just posted my facebook status..."kicking into high crazy."
I do this thing, every Christmas- when I'm basically finished with my shopping, I keep shopping and going to stores and "looking." 
I think because I don't feel ready and I can't relax.
I'm kind of doing that thing right now.
I have my list in my purse. 
I need to pick up a few things.
My list will be accomplished tomorrow.

Someone told me not to take a purse. 
Or to be very careful if I do.
I've been reading about pick-pockets
and thieves
and gangs that surround you and shove
and push
and steal you blind.
I am a country bumpkin.
I live where you can walk around with your purse wide open.
If I dropped my wallet, someone would pick it up and say "ma'am, you dropped this."

They say "don't draw attention to yourself." 
Don't wear white tennis shoes.
Don't even wear white socks. 
So I went to Kohl's and bought these:

I bought the pink ones.  
(I'm insane for them.)
Pink shoes with yellow laces shouldn't draw too much attention.
I love pink.
I love pink, purple and red. 
I sound like an old lady, don't I?
(Don't answer that.)
Not certain I'll wear them in Paris. 
My sister said if I want to wear pink shoes in Paris I should.

Then I had to buy the Bee a giraffe and the book:

The Bee has a giraffe and her moms take her picture with it every month.
Then I bought myself three new pair of white socks.
(Even though I'm not supposed to wear them in Paris.)
And I bought myself a new rolling suitcase.
I've never had one before.
I had to look at (and in) every rolling suitcase I could find.
Last week I went to TJMaxx and looked at suitcases for two hours but didn't buy a one of them.
Tonight I went back to Kohl's and bought the suitcase that I wanted, originally.
High crazy.

Tomorrow I'll finish my list.
By Sunday night I'll be packed.
Monday I go to work.
Monday night I'm working out.
I figure that is better than twiddling my thumbs- seeing how I'll be all packed and ready to go and just chomping to go to bed so I can wake up and fly off to my loved ones.
I'm a planner.
I never wait until the last minute.

Remember the scene in "As Good As It Gets" when Jack Nicholson is packing and he has all of his stuff laid out on the bed? 
Everyone in the theatre was laughing and I thought "what is so funny?"
This is how I pack.

I plan my outfits for work every weekend.
And have them hanging up- ready to go.
If I didn't, I would never get to work.

I've been packing in my mind for weeks.
I don't want to take a lot so I can bring home whatever I want.
So, I will be ready.
Don't you fear.

And it will be wonderful.
Whether the weather is rain, sleet, snow, dark of night.
Because it will be rain, sleet, snow, dark of night in Paris.

I'm a real farmer, now.

This post is dedicated to my friend Kris over at Simplify and Jayme over at Tales from the Coop Keeper and chicken mamas, everywhere.  I met and have become good friends with both Kris and Jayme via blogging.

See this sweet little chick?  It is ours.  Not because we bought it at our local farm store.  Because one of our hens had it.  Our rooster fertilized the egg.  Right here on our little farm.
I always called this place a farm and my daughter always said it wasn't a real farm because we didn't have any farm animals.  We originally had nine hens and a rooster.  Last Friday Doug went to the farm store and bought six more chicks.  Then this little baby hatched.  Now we have sixteen farm animals. 
One of our buffs got broody.  When a hen gets broody, she wants to sit on eggs.  Our other hens kept putting more eggs in.  We were not certain when she started sitting so we were not certain when the 21 days would be up.  At one point, the clutch got too big and Doug threw some of the eggs out.  (I believe a good number of age in a clutch should be 10-12 eggs or so.  You can see by the photo that there are more than that.)  I was worried he threw someone out who was about to hatch.  Then I worried that our hen couldn't manage a clutch that was too big.  There was a lot of worry going on. 
This morning Doug bound into the bedroom and leaned over the bed with a huge smile on his face.  "We have a new chick."  I knew exactly what he was talking about.  We are real farmers now because we have had one of our own.  This is why I wanted a rooster to begin with - so we could have our own chicks.  Doug wanted a rooster to protect the flock and because he likes the sound of crowing.  (And crowing and crowing and crowing.)  I don't know if this chick is a rooster or a hen.  Time will tell.  I'll be hovering as mama hen takes care of it.  I hope it makes it.  And we hope more hatch.  Research tells me that from when the first chick hatches that the rest should hatch within 48 hours.  C'mon little chicks, peck your way out.  I'll keep you posted.  This has been the farm report brought to you by farmer Cheryl. 

What are they wearing in Paris?

All I've done as of late is talk about Paris.  As with any event in my life, the big question is
What to wear?
My friend sent an email recently and said "I hope you're packing this..."

oooh la la

 I said "I've got one in my suitcase right now!"

If you are a long-time reader, you remember the green trench...

Then I bought this jacket, which I think I will take.

Now, I've been researching on the Internet and reading everything I can get my hands on about Paris and Parisians and French people in general.  I read that they don't wear white tennis shoes and as soon as you appear in white tennis shoes, you are identified as an American.  I am an American and so that isn't a terrible thing (in my mind) to be identified as.  However, I don't want to be preyed upon because someone thinks I'm American.  I read that if you wear tennis shoes in Paris that they had better be pink or purple or orange or pink glitter.  (I believe I read this in My Sweet Life in Paris.)
How about these?

 I've had these for several years, but have hardly worn them.  They are Ecco shoes and very comfortable.  I asked Chelsea if she thought I should wear them...

She said "Oui, Madame!"  What do you think?  (And when did my ankles get so fat?)