Andy Weir is my new hero! Not because he wrote a best seller that is now a motion picture, but because of HOW he wrote this wonderful book. He began with his own passion for science….saw story potential…and commenced posting one chapter after another on his website. His goal was not fame and a talk show tour, it was to enchant an audience and for a few hours of their lives, keep them spellbound. Reader feedback encouraged the story flow and reminded him that he really loved to write!

Although I may be scientifically challenged, I too love to write.  It is a passion that was truly awakened a few years ago when I put my job on hold to spend two months alone in  France. I had no plans to write a novel, I was seeking a change. What I discovered amazed me!

So even though I have contemplated this format in the past, I want to thank Andy for giving me the motivation to share with you chapter by chapter my French adventure. It was a delight for me to experience and hopefully will be fun for you to read.

So here is the preamble to  You Too Can Do It On Four Pairs Of Knickers.  Should you decide to become a website follower, notification of each new chapter will stream directly into your e-mailbox. I look forward to your comments ……

PREAMBLE: AN IDEA IS BORN

What kind of hard working, middle-aged, single woman with no retirement plan, elects to abandon her home, job, friends and family to venture off to the south of France for two months? What prompts her to take a leap of faith on what could be a financially challenging, mentally exhausting, and possibly life-changing, decision? What genre of female commits to an illogical, impulsive idea and never looks back?

Let me introduce you to Jaime Jones.

Jaime is an attractive, unattached woman who has been self-supportive for over fifteen years. She is the mother of two professional adults, one female, one male, who have not only successfully graduated from university, but are maintaining independent lifestyles that require nothing more of her than to be proud. She is debt-free, other than her mortgage, because she has learned to stretch a dollar like a rubber band. Still, she frets at the end of every month that the rubber band might just snap. She is frugal and level headed to a fault…. except in one area: toilet paper. Nothing but the softest tissue, no matter what the cost, will suffice to wipe her derriere.

Jaime has held  a long termed position with a highly revered medical practice in the state of Virginia. She lives just one stop sign (not stop light) away from her job. It is a five minute commute, whereby even if she is running late, she gets there on time. Translation? She is one lucky bitch!

But those are not the only things that make her lucky. She is sweet and petite—okay, maybe not so sweet, but she still wears the size 2 that she sported in junior high school. She lives in the perfect house, (maybe not to everyone, but most certainly in her eyes), in the perfect neighborhood, (again, through her eyes) and owns two perfectly beautiful sports cars, one of which is a Lexus hard-topped convertible.  (See? I told you she was a lucky bitch!)

Jaime had drooled over this luxury car for years prior to its acquisition, believing that it was an impossible and unnecessary dream. Unable to control her lust one day, she called a dealership to inquire about the price. When the salesperson quoted her the MSRP, she gulped and backpedalled, giving the excuse that she was probably too frail to lift the heavy top on and off the car.

“Mam,” the agent replied soberly, “you simply push a button and the entire top folds into the trunk in twenty seconds.” She retreated in humiliation, but continued to harbor subliminal longings. She grappled with these feelings for months, knowing there was no justification for the vehicle, but wallowing in the idea of it. So maybe cushy toilet paper wasn’t her only weakness. If she could afford that luxury, she rationalized, why couldn’t she afford this car?

Once Jaime had made what seemed to many as a “dumb-assed” decision to acquire this pre-owned trophy, she marched her saucy little butt into the outrageously intimidating dealership. Her surroundings looked and smelled like money. A fashionable young woman in a taupe business suit greeted her and then courteously directed her to an empty, well appointed sales office. Jaime waited nervously, her stomach in knots, but presented an outward air of complete composure.

When the tall, handsome salesman walked in, she had been immediately impressed. He, like everything connected with Lexus, appeared first class. His white shirt had been crisply starched and contrasted nicely with his chocolate colored face. His smile had been genuine (Jaime knew all about the reputations of used car salesmen, but detecting legitimate smiles was one of her strong points) and he offered his hand with a firm, congenial, greeting. “Good afternoon,” he said. “I understand from Kimberly, that you need some assistance in purchasing a new automobile. My name is Doug Kramer.”

“Hello Doug!” Jaime returned, shaking his hand politely but with authority. “My name is Jaime Jones, and I can save you some time because I’ve done my research and know exactly what I want. She then proceeded to lay down in numberical order, her dictates. When she finished, she couldn’t believe her own ears. She had managed to spit out exactly what she planned to say. So she leaned back confidently and allowed Doug the opportunity to respond.

Doug, being the seasoned professional that he was, listened patiently and smiled calmly, while maintaining the persona of the doting salesperson dealing with a naive female. When he replied patronizingly, “Oh, I’m sure we have something like that,” and then he countered her demands with what was available on the lot at the moment. Nothing that he mentioned was remotely similar to her description.

Jaime had listened respectfully, or at least pretended to, and then said, “I’m sure they are very nice, but No Doug! I know precisely what I want and what I’ll pay. I have conferred with Consumer Reports, Edmunds, and the Blue Book. I know which was the highest rated model year and what it is worth. I also own a wonderful little Honda Prelude, so I don’t “need” this car, Doug…. I simply “want” it!”

Stutter-stepping momentarily while admiring her earnestness, Doug regrouped.
“Jaime, I think it’s great that you’ve done your research, but hold on a minute and let me look up the material you are referencing.” He reached into his desk, withdrew some journals and perused the data. His eyes widened and eyebrows arched.”You’re right!” he said, not happy that this wisp of a woman had trumped him. “Your dream machine was very highly rated…but,” he added. “The car you want is going to be very difficult to find. I know I don’t have it here at the moment. I will have to search the national database which may take some time, and incur added fees. Will you settle for a different color combination, or be willing to pay more for a newer model?”

And what do you suppose our darling heroine said?

“No, I won’t Doug. I refuse to settle.” With that, she offered her hand with a flourish and ended  with, “I’m in no hurry, call me when you find it!”

Now, for the sake of a realistic introduction to said heroine, we should take a short break here to look a little more closely at this flashback. I’m sure you’re thinking that Jaime is acting like a spoiled brat and a real ball-buster, but au contraire: what you have actually witnessed was her bravado. She knew she was coveting an expensive luxury item. It was over the top as far as her needs or financial capabilities. And although she is one of the rare breed of people who truly appreciate “nice things,” she feels uncomfortable possessing them. Her belief was that the only way to deserve this prize was by preserving her objective. To deviate from this goal would be unacceptable.

Several months and many phone calls later, she had been wandering the aisles of K-Mart  when she heard the familiar refrain of Otis Redding’s  Dock of the Bay. Suddenly realizing that the sound was radioing from her purse, she made a quick grab for her phone and answered, “Hello.”

“Jaiimmeee?” a playful voice had said, dragging out her name to create a dramatic effect.

“Yesssssss?” she answered in kind

“This is Doug, Jaime,…. Come get your car!!

Jaime froze in the underwear aisle. She had never truly believed that Doug would find it. Her parameters had been outrageous.

“Really?” she stammered in disbelief: “Really Doug?”

“Yes,” he confirmed and she could feel his smile. “I’ve finally tracked it down and am looking at it right now. It’s a beauty…. but there are two minor issues.”

Jaime was silent, steeling herself for imminent disappointment and wondering why he was even bothering to call. Two issues Doug?  Not one, but two?.

He knew what she was thinking. “Now just hear me out. It’s everything you asked for and more. It’s in mint condition, has a new car warranty and brand new run-flat tires. And here’s the best part. You will drive off the lot for exactly what you were willing to pay.”

Mentally scrambling she asked, “So then what are the “minor”issues?

“Well,” he paused, “It’s a year newer and has 10,000 fewer miles.”

Jaime’s head was spinning with information overload. Holy crap! If I accept, am I settling? And if so, am I settling up or down?  As she juggled these questions, the muddy water began to clear…… ”Know what you want”…. “Go after it” … “Be patient”…. then…“Enjoy your reward!”
With a smile matching the one in Doug’s voice, she asked him one final question.

“How SOON can I pick it up?!”

So let us switch scenes to the epiphany that became “The French Connection.” Approximately two years after the purchase of the Lexus, Jaime was enjoying a glass of bubbly on a warm spring evening with her friend Jack.

Jack and Jaime had been business associates and dear friends for a very long time. They both had independent lives, but always, and I do mean always, found time for one another. They often counseled about personal, as well as professional matters. Jack was the yang to Jaime’s yin, completing their circle of energy.

On this particular Friday night, the two had been discussing assorted subjects, but were mainly focused on their work, the stress of meeting deadlines, maintaining financial limitations, placating disgruntled employees: all facets of the pressure-cooker environment that managing a small business in a big business universe demanded.  A soft breeze and Canada geese drifting in the nearby pond, were the backdrop to this peevish conversation.

With no provocation, Jaime looked up from the half-filled flute in her hand and U-turned the conversation, “Jack, I have to get away. Not on a vacation for a week or two; I need a lifestyle change. I need to decompress. I need to fade into a foreign culture. I need to go to France… …the south of France. Yes, definitely the south of France, and I need to nestle in a tiny fishing village in a cottage by the sea.”

Jack leaned back in his chair and eased his glasses up his nose. He heard urgency not capriciousness, and he saw the same determination in her eyes as she had had for the Lexus. However, unlike with the Lexus, she was not seeking encouragement or asking for advise, she was delivering a statement, so without questioning her logic he simply asked, “How long are you going  for?”

“Three months” she replied, with no indecisiveness whatsoever. “It’s May now… I need to tend  to.. a few minor issues… such as notify my boss, friends and family, figure out where and how I will finance this, and locate a house somewhere in France, soooo September sounds good…. Yes, September. I’m going to France in September.”

“It seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said.

“No, Jack, I haven’t. I just this moment decided.” And because Jack knew her well, he believed her.

He raised his glass and after taking a sip of  wine said, “Three months is a long time, don’t you think?” He was not challenging her decision, just the length of it.

She mirrored his sip and responded in agreement. “Ok.. “then two.”

The coin had just been tossed into the fountain.

Jaime had needed Jack’s help with the Lexus dream. At that point, she had felt selfish and foolish to want something so frivolous. Now she had conquered her fears and had a new dream, one that  didn’t require his counsel or guidance, just his confidence and compassion. And with that he raised his glass to hers, “To France.” he said as their glasses touched.

They both eased back in their chairs, sipped their wine and shared the moment while  contemplating the future. France, like the Lexus, was a an aspiration that was about to become an electrifying  reality.