"There was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal..." ~ Jane Eyre

My Prince's computer, which he built himself, is named after a great hero in Greek Mythology. If we were to name my laptop, it would be "weenie."

Weenie's makers just decided to tell me days after calls back and forth that the wireless system is faulty and an advisory was sent out. Personally, I have a feeling a regular update for Vista probably screwed it all up. I hate Vista, I hate HP, and I hate that next week weenie is being shipped off to California for repairs after my Prince is nice enough to save his innards on an external hard drive since I am panicked I will lose data.

And this, my dear readers, is why technology is both a blessing and a curse. Posts will be made from work when I now get here early in the morning so I can blog and read blogs, and the next two weekends will be spent borrowing air time from friends.

Hope you are all having a better week than me and my laptop.

"Her salary will be thirty pounds a year..." ~ Jane Eyre

If my life were opening movie credits, I would say that my twenties was the opening from a Rogers and Hammerstein musical: hopeful, naive, and spanning wide open spaces with endless possibilities. A bit too whimsical, a tad too unrealistic...

As I enter my thirties at the end of this month, I would say the opening credits parallel Breakfast at Tiffany's. The music of Mancini is beautiful, but there are undertones of sadness in Moon River...a bit melancholy despite the lyrics about friends and rainbows. The character is a bit worse for the wear from pain, but still doing things that make her feel content and hopeful. Despite elegance and confidence and a big heart, neither myself or Holly have a diamond engagement ring from Tiffany's. Still, it is of no matter, because we can both hop in a New York City taxi cab at any time and go where we feel the most safe and secure. For Holly, it is Tiffany's and for me it is probably The Met. Nothing bad can happen there among Van Gogh paintings and ancient sculptures of Demeter because one remembers that one can, indeed, leave a legacy in so many creative ways. At thirty, I appreciate the simple things in life, like drinking my first cup of coffee in the morning as Holly does. She, too, knows you have to feed your soul literally and figuratively. As rich and full as my daily life is with friends and family, there are mornings that exist for me in solitude such as Holly's, where we drink coffee and ponder the same things. In some ways I feel like I have been a call girl to my career in my twenties as a teacher, compromising myself and allowing the lack of morals of students and parents around me to overrun my life; I put myself out there for far too long. There are no regrets, just going the way of the dream-maker, as Johnny Mercer puts it.

In the opening credits Holly stares at a chandelier in the store's window and tilts her head as she focuses on her symbol of hope. She isn't quite there yet, but she knows she will get there. She will get security and she will get the unconditional, committed romantic love she always dreamed of as a little girl. She turns the corner off of 5th with confidence...

I am not there yet, but I will get there. This I am confident about; I will get to the rainbow's end.

*At this time the clip of the scene is not available on any videostreams online, which is an indicator to you that you need to rent the film and enjoy each moment, from the opening credits to the final scene. If you choose not to Netflix, than you are missing a masterpiece, including the best film opening credits in the English language to date...*

"The fact is, I was a trifle beside myself; or rather OUT of myself, as the French would say..." ~ Jane Eyre

I am dealing with post-holiday blues tonight with all things French. Because what makes you feel better than something that is Francais? I made a croque-monsieur for dinner (no bechemal, very little cheese, cooking spray instead of butter but it was still tres fantastique) and am sipping a Cabernet Sauvignon. I am catching up on French gossip pages and reading about Sarkozy getting cozy with a new Italiano mistress. I am looking at French recipes for my thirtieth birthday getaway weekend to the North Fork at the beginning of February. Savory crepes? Coq au vin? I told J.Sarah that I want to make brandade just because I saw Jacque Pepin make it and it looks so good. This afternoon, my brother-in-law made reserves for tomorrow night at Artisanal for my sister, my boyfriend, and me so we can have a big pot of fondue. Nothing like drowning the blues away in a big pot of melted, hot, bubbly cheese.

I am not sure why I get post-holiday blues. Its not that I don't see my family each week; sometimes we even see each other each day. I suppose it has more to do with a spirit and feeling more than anything else; Christmas is a time that takes you the closest proximity back to the memories of your childhood and a time when you were with the ones you loved who are no longer alive. It was a time when my sisters and I still lived together under one roof; as much as we share now, you couldnt help but share more when living together in one home. We work so hard to pay it forward to Jack and ensure that he experiences the same blessings we had from our parents on Christmas and each day of the year, but I know that it will never be exactly the same. Its all very Le Petite Prince, mais oui?

Its nights like this when I know I need to think pink: La Vie En Rose. I have Edith on the CD player and am thinking about procrastinating even further tonight (I have so much on a to-do list right now) and looking into flights to Quebec in February. Even the idea of waking up in a city where hot croissants and cafe au lait is the only way to go for breakfast makes me less blue. I may head out tonight to the bookstore because I realize that Jack has yet to read Babar, and we all know that French elephants make the best of children's stories. Though as great as it is having the memory of an elephant, I do wish I could forget the past a little tonight and be less bleu.