Two little Boston Terrier girls bring their Momo & Mr.Momo to Paris for a long stay. These are the tales of their very fine adventures.


In Honor of Migraines in Paris L&P Become Siamese Twins

I tend to lurch about when I have a migraine. My right leg doesn't move in sync with the left. P and I look awfully similar lurching down the street in sync. I don't much talk about my migraines, but since this is Paris, I think the Paris migraine deserves a little post of its own.

These migraines are not new to me, but since we arrived in Paris it was weeks before a migraine showed up which is, well, novel. I was beginning to do Ommmm Paris and make plans to just stay right here. But now I know that the migraine can travel just as handily as we do. It just took the long slow boat probably because it had so much extra luggage.

Migraines tend to make me cranky and I think, creative. Cranky is easy to understand. Everything is pretty much skewed - things like letters, directions, patience, and my capability to shop with any common sense. Perhaps that is part of the creative process? Some would question the logic of that statement, like the person whose credit card I use. The creative part could be all in my head, but my brain does think differently when I am having a migraine. Think Lewis Carrol and poor little Alice down the rabbit hole. I would love to claim that kind of brilliance, but, alas, I think my creativity might be limited to odd color combinations and bad food. And interpreting photos in weird ways, thus the Siamese Twins joined at the Butt.

I find that I am more akin to my French fellow shoppers when I am like this. I can do cranky as well as they do. I do a very suave excusez-moi and pardon, and my best, the big exhaled sigh. On other non-migraine days I kind of whisper that stuff because I don't want anyone to hear my accent, which still sounds like Syracuse. French accent and Syracuse accent(upstate New York) - not a good match.

I have a fine medication that interrupts the migraine cycle but I still can get a dull throb which feels like your head is stuffed with not cotton, but cellophane. Crinkle sounds and all that can go on for hours. Creativity doesn't limit itself to just what I see. I think I can sing too which is horrifying for those around me. Believe me, sounds during a migraine are much closer than they appear in your brain.

In Paris, versus home ordinaire, the use of migraine is a novel way to examine this city of lights. For instance, the Eiffel Tower visually looks completely different right now. On a non-migraine day it is giant, looms large and is very impressive. During a migraine, in addition to those fine qualities, it also is a bit shiny, and can bend like a shape changer, depending on the light, and looms quite a bit too close for comfort.

And don't get me started on Le Louvre. I have experienced it mid-migraine and I can tell you that there are ghosts that are very very unhappily lingering in the tombs of that place. Once upon a time when it was a palace, not all days were happy days. Sometimes it is just the smell,um, like sewer, or zoo, or a shadow of light, or the funny looking stains on the ancient stone that brings out those ghosts. And no, not one of them looks like Casper.

And trust me, Mona Lisa (who thought up that name anyway?) looks astonishingly silly with or without a migraine. I would avoid Le Louvre during a migraine.

And it would be good if the fussy old French ladies would stay out of my way in the midst of a migraine. They do peevish like no one else on earth. I swear that they get to be that old because no one, not a disease, not another person would dare kill them for fear of reprisal. That is, until I show up with a migraine and an attitude to match and several inches of height, and let us not forget my feet-too-large. Watch out old peevish ones.

So, just for listening to this odd post, I rate your allegiance to all things L&P in Paris as a big 10. Now I shall find a very dark room and two joined-at-the-butt puppies who smell most wonderful during a migraine, to keep me company.