Trip to France (#10)

*Warning: This entry somewhat of a rant!*

LOL. It's Noon and I just woke up. Yes, I went to bed at 1am, but still; that's a great night's sleep, don't you think? My husband has always warned me about how fatigue can sneek up on you and even land you in the hospital if you're not careful. And not necessarily physical fatigue, but fatigue from "the light bulb being on all of the time" as he likes to say.  He's probably right.

So now that I'm awake, I can tell you about my day yesterday.  It'll be short and sweet because it was very very quiet.  =)  Because everything is closed on Sundays and Mondays, there really wasn't much to do anyway...and that was just fine by me. 

There is a little construction going on downstairs in one of the bedrooms, so Astrid and Gino were managing that.  After a lovely lunch (I would have to start an entirely new blog to tell you about the food that Astrid prepares for us everyday), James and I went outside and walked the grounds, took some really up close and personal pictures of some of the sheep (only to find out the memory card wasn't in the camera), and then drove in to town.  The name of the town is Couloummiers.  I snapped pictures of some pretty houses (the leaves are changing) on our way to town, a beautiful big flower pot (they line the streets of the town), and some greeting cards that were outside of a store.  And it got me to thinking (again). 

Why can't 17th Street look like this?  Why aren't there street signs that identify 17th Street as a shopping district? Why aren't there twinkling lights in the beautiful trees at holiday time?  Why doesn't someone care for the trees by using cute little mini fences to protect them from trash and fertilizer for them to thrive?  Why can't I leave merchandise outside the front of my store?  (Because someone will steal it, that's why.)  Doesn't anyone care?

When I first opened oo la la!, I remember being disappointed that none of the other merchants really seemed to care about the trash on the street and the sidewalk or the potential beauty that could be displayed on this lovely little block.  (There was, for a short time, an older Chinese gentleman that the owners of the building paid to sweep in front of the building, but he has since passed on.)  So instead of fretting about it, I took it upon myself to sweep (like a crazy lady) in front of my store (including the gutters), in front of the tattoo shop next door (they're guys; they aren't doing it) and in front of the entrance to the main building on the other side of me.  And I'm not talking about that fake sweeping either; I mean getting down and dirty and sweeping the dirt out of the cracks, the cigarette butts (yuk!) off the sidewalk, scraping gum off of the sidewalk with a razor, and using hot soapy water to clean up the drink spills.  I don't play.

I am happy to say the Security Ambassadors now sweep the little block on 17th street every morning.  I think someone either got tired of me complaining about how we deserve a clean street or they finally figured it out on their own.  Doesn't matter to me; as long as it got done.  Now, if only folks would stop spitting (gross!) and using our street as a trash can by dropping dirty baby diapers, old McDonald's food wrappers, liquor bottles and beer cans, etc., then I'd be happy.  But it takes the locals to demand respect for a neighborhood. People are less likely to soil their surroundings if the surroundings are clean and the merchants demand cleanliness.  Presentation is everything.  (And don't get me started on the folks who hang out waiting for their friends to come out of the Pot Club; that's another story entirely.)

I'm going to get off of my soapbox now and go downstairs and get something good to eat.  Time to turn off the lightbulb.