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How to make Profiteroles au Chocolat:
Take a golden cloud,
fill it with a dollop of vanilla ice cream,
lace it with thick velvet ribbons of chocolate,
Crown it with toasted almonds.
Enjoy! Don't forget to lick the pan.
Photos: France is a wonder land of sweet things. My cousin Julie (aka Sheba) and I enjoying the moment.
Photo: A French vintage collage that I saw at the flea market.
"Honey?! I have a great idea for a necktie!" I said teasingly with a straight face.
"Corey don"t even think about it!" French husband exclaimed, "You can decorate the house however you want, but I will not wear a bow around my neck.
After all these years he should know not to dare me!
She knew, she knew, she knew....aim at what you want.
She took her desire and her fear, like a bow and arrow, and aimed at the stone.
Pulling back the bow string she let go. Even a stone can learn to breath.
photo: A stone urn depicting a scene of Cupid's aim. Have you ever aimed your arrow at a stone?
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Romance: Not to be confused with love, and not to say it is better. No no no, strictly romance for romantic sake. Below you will find illustrations of the oh la la. Every girl needs a touch of romance in her life...
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero un (lesson number one,) You are beautiful. Just the way you are. Believe that your body is a sacred temple, and that angels dance at your feet. Trust that your beauty is evident.
Lecon: In the evening go outside, and be bathed by moonlight. Preferably without clothing.
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero deux (Lesson number two,) Whisper your name on things that you find attractive. Do you know they are reflections of you? If you see something intriguing, something that makes your heart flip flop, whisper your name on it.
Lecon: Wear flowers in your hair.
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero trois (lesson number three,) Let life kiss your hand. Eat chocolates, taste the wine, dance to the radio, sing for no reason, and when you wake up each morning, smile. Today is going to be an amazing day.
Lecon: Kiss the hand of time.
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero quatre (lesson number four,) Trust that the desire of your heart is heard, and that your words are music.
Lecon: Perfume your letters with your scent.
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero cinq (lesson number five,) Caress the ideas of wishful thinking. Learn the habit of daydreaming. Practice pretending.
Lecon: Wear a ring on your little finger, preferably oversize and sparkly.
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero six ( lesson number six,) Surround yourself in tenderness. Tie a ribbon around your soul. Weave pearls in your hair. Paint your walls pink. Create a boudoir.
Lecon: Wear bells on your toes and dance in the shower.
photo: A detail of a French illustration that I found at the flea market yesterday. Circa 1914. To purchase a copy, contact me at my email located on the sidebar.
Lecon numero sept (lesson number seven,) Let your hair fall where it may, wear red lipstick. Dream as a way of being. Cast your gaze on the moment and label it good.
Lecon: Wear red lipstick, and kiss everyone on the cheeks twice. A touch of whimsy never hurt anybody.
Twice a week my son Sacha rides like the wind on his BMX bike. The hills are steep and many. He loves it. He doesn't mind the bumps, scratches and bruises. He is young and doesn't yet know fear as a foe.
Saint Victory (the mountain in the view, the one Cezanne often painted,) spreads her arms wide cheering him onward, "Sacha, go go go!"
While Sacha races I tend to stand in the background, chasing fear around in the parking lot, and leaning on that mountain for strength.
...and then in the corner of my eye I see him ride. I see his enthusiasm, I feel his heart happy, and I know he is on top of the world. The wind and the mountain call his name and he roars, YES!
and I sigh, "Victory, he is ready." and watch him fly.
photo: Sacha at the starting gate, where the coach hollers: "Riders are you ready? Set 'em up!
Photo: French vintage scrapbook. The little girl exclaims, "Poor little bees!"
Well I'll "BEE" darn this is a very hard crowd to sting! Marita guessed it within minutes, and many of you followed suit with the right answer. Marita said, "A French bee trap... Fill it up with some sweeten liquid and the bees will be attracted to it."
Sad but true. It is a trap for bees. I have never seen a bee trapped inside of one. Though many of you suggested using it for a lantern...now there is a good idea! Next time I see one I'm going to buy it, and use it as a lantern in the garden.
photo: French vintage scrapbook. I know there is a fish inside, or maybe a fairy!
Then again there was a number of you who thought along the creative sweet side. Some of the responses called the "bee trap," a fairy trap, a dream catcher, an Evil spirit or bad witch catcher, or to use as a fish bowl, or as a vase to hang by one's bedside. Clever, tender ideas, full of whimsical imagination. I like that sort of stuff, does it show?
Kas, said, "Little girls carry them, illuminated with fireflies (lightening bugs), across fields of lavender, late at night, on their annual journey to sleep beneath the summer stars."
photo: French vintage scrapbook: Romance swarms.
Jolene added, "Well, the consensus seems to be a TRAP of some sort. If I had one - could I use it to capture a French Husband?"
Sure why not, as long as you don't ask him to use it as a urinal like Shabby suggested!
photo: French vintage scrapbook: Little farmer girl.
Let me tell you "Milk," seemed to be the leader after bees, candle holder, and fairies. Okay, low on the list, but still after nearly 90 response it held its place as a breast shield, or as a breast pump, and as something to separate the cream from the whey.
Mari-Nancy pumped out a funny one with her answer, "For catching milk, one udder at a time.."
Now that was a cheeky answer, wasn't it?!
photo: Vintage French scrap book...see the little dot on the right side of her shoulder? That is a bee. Yes it is!
The winners are:
Marita, who was the first to say it was a bee trap. The next winner for the most original, (oh such a tough call... your answers were all brilliant...!!) goes to Kas. Who suggested that the bee traps were used as a lantern to hold fireflies!
Thank you for playing along. Your guesses and comments add enormously to Tongue in Cheek! XXX (and neither the "Bee traps," nor the "XXX" stand for Barbie's Moonshine:))
Note: For the real bee problem go here.
It has been awhile since I have had a guessing game on my blog. Yesterday, Shannon put the bee in my bonnet, in her comment to my post about: Bubba, Bip, Billy Bob and Beau. I like saying those names really fast, the roll off the tongue don't they...Bubba, Bip, Billy Bob and Beau.
French Husband said I should have given the band members French names since they were French. I asked him to give me some names, he said, "Marcel, Gaston, Bebere, and, and, and, um eh...Garcon."
I looked at French Husband and said, "Hey-hey-hey, whoa big rider, garcon isn't a boy's name it means boy!" French Husband thinks he can pull a fast one on me. But I caught him this time, my French is improving after twenty years!
When we were expecting Sacha, the names French husband liked were...wait a minute I am getting off the track...I'll save that for tomorrow.
In the meantime do you know what these glass things are? (A little treat for the first person who gives the right answer, and another for the most original answer too.)
The band members didn't notice each other's odd habits anymore.
It didn't matter that the twins, Bubba and Bip, hid behind things while playing their instruments. It didn't matter that Bubba wore yellow socks, and Bip never wore any and complained about blisters. It didn't matter that Billy Bob was a ham seeking attention, and that Beau never made a peep, and refused to face the crowd.
They were friends.
Billy Bob often said, "We are who we are. If the crowd can't understand, they'll walk away... Never remembering us as a group who wore mismatched socks. But, if they do stick around, and listen to the music, they might discover us, and dance their heart out."
Beau smiled.
photo: Antique music announcement, with silver knife ends thrown on top.
My Mother's kitchen table.
My Mother is a nuts and bolts kind of woman. Practical with no frills. Dust rag in one hand, and a plate of cookies in the other. Being busy doing is her best friend. The word sit down does not relate to her. If ever you give my Mother a compliment she will brush it aside, saying, "Oh gee," and make a clicking sound with her tongue. She is that predictable, and never late.
Sacha when he was two years old.
My Mother has given me life twice. Once at my birth, and then again after Sacha's birth. A few weeks after Sacha's birth my Mom sensed something was wrong. She said she thought my stomach should be going down, she said she could tell I had lost weight, but that my stomach looked like I was still pregnant.
I told her that I felt great, that after three weeks I didn't expect to have a flat stomach, that if I weren't well Sacha wouldn't be doing well with my breast milk. I wasn't worried and brushed her concern away.
A view in my Mother's garden.
Still she persisted. After days of discussing the way I looked, my Mom said she would not return home (California,) until I went to see a Doctor. I told her I didn't mind if she stayed in France with me forever. She laughed, and then nearly bopped me over the head with the phone. She has a way of getting her point across.
That is how I found out I had ovarian cancer. It is a silent killer. My Mother's intuition saved me.
A hen in my Mother's garden.
A Mother's love, is that she can feel her children from the inside out.
Actions speak louder than words...
being by someone's side,
as they untie the knots that have gathered,
can be what is needed most.
Like a gentle hand on a shoulder.
photo: Antique medallion on a pink ribbon. May you be the hand of gentleness today.
