* Tongue in Cheek *

French Antiques at the Bike Shop where I popped a Wheelie of a Deal

   

French Antiques.

Glancing back at the table making sure everything is just so; Knives on the right and forks on the left is a big challenge for someone like me, who can't raise their right hand without thinking first of "The Pledge of Allegiance".

As I was setting the table for dinner I thought I would give you the low down on the table setting (above).

Vintage Champagne Glasses: French Husband found these in the middle of nowhere, at a flea market located in a cow pasture, at 5am with a flashlight.

Silverware: My parent's gave us this setting when our son was born. They bought it at an estate sale in Willows, from a couple in their 80s, who toured and dined the world.

Linen Tablecloth: I saw the box of linens at the flea market. A ton of wrinkled serviettes, sheets, tea towels, and what have you...bending down to look inside the box I thought how much I hated to iron. Yet using paper is a pet-peeve of mine. Hence, wrinkles are vogue chez moi. The linens had a variety of monogrammed letters. The tablecloth's initials are V.B. which in my books means: Very Bad if you spill anything on this. Just teasing.

The Dishes: These plates are one of the rare gifts in which my Belle-Mère gave me twenty years ago. Porcelain de Paris with gilded curly Qs set of 24 and I have yet to break one. Even though in my wicked thoughts that sometimes consume me, I have thought about breaking the whole lot. Unfortunately, I like my Belle-Mère's rare gift too much--so my wicked thoughts go suppressed and expressed in unconscious ways, that my hero Carl Jung would tsk-tsk-tsk at me.

1930s Art Deco, Individual Crystal Fruit Bowls:  (that was a mouthful!) in which I am going to serve- chilled cucumber soup with a grilled walnut and celery pesto on top.
I bought these at a Used Bicycle Shop, that French Husband dragged me to one afternoon. The find was in a dirty cardboard box, with matching wine glasses.

The dealer at the shop was happy I was taking "the junk." I told him I would say thank-you by making him some chocolate chip cookies.

Later in the car French Husband told me I should make him some Chocolate Chip Cookies as he was the one who dragged me into the shop in the first place.
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The only thing new on this table will be what the New Year will bring, and hopefully it will be good...

I hope your Last Day of the Year reminds you of the wonder of life behind you and the wonders yet to come. May they be good.

A Year in Pictures

                                      
                                       
                                       
                                       

                                      

                                                                        

                                       
                                       

                                       

                                      

                                      

                                                                 

                     

                         

                                                             

A year in pictures. 

How did your year unfold?

The Love Letters

                                         

Winged thoughts stacked, page after page of love letters, held together with hope.
                                                                                  

The love letters. Words spilling out hoping to wet the reader's heart. Did he know? Would he respond... it did not matter anymore. Her thoughts took wing, they had to be released... the freedom to let go stirred her soul, allowed her to imagine that he cared.

                                            Why did she wait so long to speak of her heart? In her frustration she took her hat pin and poked her finger. A spot of red mixed with the lace.

With the love letters she added the piece of lace from her slip. Textured lace. Maybe he would hold it to his lips, maybe she would feel his hand upon her face. The thought alone counted for something.... then again she wanted more than just her fantasies.

Though she preferred the frame more than her portrait she sent both.
Waiting now for his response was the hardest part.
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Where did you meet the one you love?

                     

                   
    

                         

The Hog of the Covers

                                      

                                      
... and he says he does not hog the covers!

Photo: Baby, I got proof that you do.

Blooming with Odds and Ends

            

When the urn was younger she did what was expected of her. She stood outside and held plants. More often than not the people passing by, praised the flowers that grew from the plants she held. She knew her role and she was happy.

And in that happiness she looked around-

and discovered that life was full of surprises-

and that being a planter was just the tip of the iceberg.

You can be whoever you are, and more importantly, those odds and ends you gather, can bloom the prettiest flowers.

photo: French antique garden urn tipping her iceberg and blooming anew.

Notes:

Making new with old things.

Decor 8

Petits Things

            

When the urn was younger she did what was expected of her. She stood outside and held plants. More often than not the people passing by, praised the flowers that grew from the plants she held. She knew her role and she was happy.

And in that happiness she looked around-

and discovered that life was full of surprises-

and that being a planter was just the tip of the iceberg.

You can be whoever you are, and more importantly, those odds and ends you gather, can bloom the prettiest flowers.

photo: French antique garden urn tipping her iceberg and blooming anew.

Notes:

Making new with old things.

Decor 8

Petits Things

Santa's Love Birds, the ones on the telephone wire

One of my Mother's clever tools of disciplining, my four brothers and I as children, was telling us that the birds that sat on the telephone wires were Santa's helpers. During the year (not just in December,) she would point up to them and say, "They are watching you! You better behave, or they will fly back and tell Santa!" If we did something devious, she would look out the window and say, "Oh, I see one of the birds flying away, look, there it goes to the North pole!"

I believed her. I remember seeing hundreds of birds lined up on the telephone wires and wondering why soooooooooooooooo many of them seem to hang out by our house?

Being Catholic had nothing to do with guilt compared to those damn birds.                            

Celebrate the beauty of who you are

During Mass last night, I could barely keep up with the homily that Priest shared. One my mind was on the dinner in the oven: would it burn, or become as dry as the Sahara? Two, I was certain I had left a candle lite in the dining room, and Three the sermon in French was going over my head like clouds in the winter sky. I sat there trying to be in the moment, trying to understand, but other thoughts were popping in my head... and that bothered me.

I knew if I prayed for those I love and care for, for those in need of prayer, I would be present to the circle of energy around me. I thought and prayed for those I knew... My family, my father, Daisy, Shelley... Somewhere while praying I heard the Priest's words clearly speak to me....

Participate in your divine Presence.

From that moment on I have thought of nothing else. To be our divine self is the greatest gift we can be and give to one another. To be present to our divine being, that which is holy, which uniquely connects us to one another. To put our divine presence in front of us, to let it guide us.

Thank you for the gift of your beautiful self in my life!

Merriest Christmas.

French Christmas Decoration Franco/American Style

                                      

                                      
                                      
                                      
                                      
                                        
                                      
                                      
                                      
                                      

Joyous Fete. Tender moments. Hearts full of shared love. May the joy of Christmas be yours.

A Story of an American Blond at the French Open Market

                                       

Bundled-up, walking around the open market, hoping to find the last gifts on the long list of Christmas shopping that I had to do. Yes, I am a last minute shopper. If I buy gifts in advance, I give the gifts in advance... Hence not a good idea for me to buy in advance.

                                       

                                       

The market-keeper asked me if I spoke English. He detected an accent. In French I replied that I spoke English. I am a snob in this department simply because when I arrived in France over twenty years ago, I didn't speak a word of French and nobody spoke English to me. Now, when I can speak French (with a ultra heavy American accent) everyone wants to speak English. Ugh.

                                       

                                                  

The market-keeper was intrigued. He continued with his questions in English. I continued answering in French. He asked,
 "Are you English?"
"No."
"But your accent says you are not French..."
"I am not French."
"Are you German?"
"No."
"Are you Danish?"
At this point I looked straight at him and said, "Do I look Danish?" I grabbed my hair, "Am I blond?"
He had a puzzled look on his face...then he said, "Yes... you are blond...?..."

I turned red with embarrassment, and laughed, "Oh yeah that is right I have blond hair now."
He gave me a look that made me feel like I was the original blond behind the blond jokes.

                                       

                                       
After every country in Europe was exhausted by his searching for my nationality, I told him I was American, and a natural brunette who had turned white, then dyed my hair blond.

He starred at me like I was from outer space.

I did not buy anything on his stand.

Notes:

French Stuff

French Tee shirt

French Recipes in English

The New Kid on the Block

                                                               He stood at the street corner and waited. He felt conspicuous. He was early. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes on the upcoming traffic hoping to see Chelsea, he did not want to miss her. Though surprisingly the drivers drove slowly by as if expecting to find something. French Husband was intrigued at how many people were out at midnight, this area of town was hopping.           

Around and around the cars drove by, he was certain he had seen that one minutes before... then it dawned on him that the street light flashing red was not your average red light flashing. He chuckled to himself, "I am the new kid on the block."

                                  

But his humor was short lived when a police car drove slowly by on the other side of the street. Four policemen starred at him, none of them smiled.

                                           

The policemen watched as Chelsea pulled up alongside of the street, stopped, and leaned over to open her car door. French Husband swallowed hard and got inside.

How does the story end?

Luckily, they both had the same last name.