Tongue in Cheek

The Birthday List

               

Photo: Chelsea 18 months old.

Today is my daughter's (Chelsea) birthday. In France turning eighteen is a big deal. It compares with turning twenty-one in the States. Chelsea is considered an adult today.

When I was pregnant with Chelsea, French husband was jealous. He wanted to be the one pregnant. He wanted to be the one growing a baby inside. To appease his wishful thinking I let him tell me five things he would do if he were pregnant and that I would do those things for him.

1) He wouldn't watch TV, nor watch any violent movies, nor be around any loud noises, he would turn off the radio, and never listen to rock music...(I had to remind him to keep it simple and not go into detail, otherwise I might begin to feel like Pumpkin Peter's wife!)

2) He would give up sugar, caffeine, anything too spicy, and never would he eat junk food, nor eat anything too hot or too cold...( he was on a roll, he went on and on... I alway wonder how it was that I gained 55 pounds living on air?)

3) He would listen to opera music, not just as background music, but sit and listen to it, at least an hour a day. Oh, and not just any opera music... only Puccini and Verdi.

4) He would take long silent walks in the forest breathing deeply the fresh air, being mindful of the earth under his feet and hug trees.

5) He would follow osteopathy classes, and he would have the baby in Pithiviers (the clinic where Leboyer, Odent and Lamaze ideas and knowledge are used.)

I did follow French husband's list of things to do while pregnant. Chelsea was born in Pithiviers, ten pounds, smiling and very calm. (Though by Cesarean section.)

Happy Birthday Chelsea! Do you know Daddy has an ENTIRE-LONG-ENDLESS-LIST for you to follow as an adult?

French Romance and Chocolate that goes POP!

               

French Christmas Tradition no. 2

A papillote is a chocolate (or candied fruit) that is wrapped in tissue paper with a note written on it. The sparkly golden exterior paper has fringed ends. Some papillotes, the ones I like the best, have a small firecracker inside. When you pull on the ends it sets the firecracker off and POPS! The papillote was created in Lyon at the end of the 18th century.

Legend has it that a young man who worked in a candy shop was in love with a girl downstairs (the French are so romantic and their stories often twist around kisses, drama and love... so up my alley.) To attract the young love's attention he wrapped love notes around each of the chocolates and tossed them into her window. (Of course striking her heart, watering her mouth, and causing sparks to fly.) The owner of the candy shop found out their little secret. He found it original, and the idea has flamed into a delicious French Christmas tradition.

Papillotes are usually decorate the Christmas table.

Papillotes are to the French what candy canes are to Americans. Though gee really, how can you compare chocolate, love notes that spark and go pop.... to a red and white peppermint cane? Then again Santa has a many tricks up his sleeve, a candy cane is just one of them.

French husband are you playing Santa this year?

Note: If you want to buy some papillotes check this out.

Preparing for Christmas

               

In France Christmas begins on Christmas Eve and continues twelve days until Epiphany. The moment before Christmas is called Advent. A time to prepare the way for Christmas.   

Growing up my Mom took Christmas down on the 26th. Christmas was a done deal. Packed up and stored in the closet until next year.

Lucky for me I was not consider "late" (in France) to put up our  Christmas tree this weekend. It is a production to put up a Christmas tree isn't it? First one must find the Christmas boxes that are stashed in the storage. Secondly, since our Christmas tree stands in a spot that usually occupies a large piece of furniture, the entire house had to be moved around so that it had its spot. The part that I enjoy is putting on the lights and the ornaments which is lucky for me because in our home the tradition is that nobody wants to help... everyone wants Christmas they just don't want to put it up.

Well this weekend after the Christmas tree was up with its million little vintage ornaments I stepped back singing "Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree how lovely are your branches...." when POW (!!!) the Christmas tree fell over. Smashing mercury glass ornaments everywhere. My heart sank. I was sad to sweep the broken ornaments into the bin.

Slowly, I remounted the Christmas tree and reconstructed the decor. Adding a bow here, a star there and feeling a ting of sadness that some of my favorite ornaments had been smashed to smithereens. Finally it was dolled up and looking festive again. I was relieved. I stepped back and...guess what... yes believe it... it fell a second time!

I swore like a crazy elf! A million little swear words sorted out of my bouche (mouth) and it felt good. I called the Christmas tree a really bad word. One that I do not want to write but I said it fervently a few times over. You know sometimes it helps to blow up, to spew bad words and let your face get contorted. It helps to let frustrations out is a safe way. I guess the Christmas tree's falling over allowed me an avenue to blow off steam.

I left the "F-ing" Christmas tree on the floor. French husband and the children came home and looked at it. "Mom, why is the Christmas tree on the floor?"

Modern Art is what I said.

This morning I put the Christmas tree upright and it is standing strong, a few bricks at the base helped.

Yes even people who once lived in a monastery do swear at times, even while preparing for Christmas.

Photo: The tree that better think twice before falling again.

French Santon

               

French Christmas Tradition

No. 1- Provencal Santons.

The Provencal creche is similar to the nativity scene except it includes the entire village, not just a handful of shepherds, drummers and angels. The Provencal santons are made of clay and are either painted or dressed. The creche (nativity) includes over a hundred characters depicting a Provencal village and their occupations.

This santon shows a Provencal woman carrying to large baskets of cabbages. She is bringing the gift of her labor to the Christ child. The Kings brought gold frankincense and myrrh... she brought food. Each of us has a gift to give, and each gift is needed. I wonder what I would bring? A vintage boutis perhaps, maybe I would ask Mary if she needed to do something... I could watch the baby for awhile. I like babysitting. What  would you bring?

Photo: A Provencal Santon from the turn of the century.

The Collier Marseillais, or Grain d' Or

After living in Paris for three years, we moved to the south of France. Standing on the platform at train station in Marseille, I noticed four things:

1. That the wind was cold enough to freeze water into ice-cubes.

2. That the air smelled like Pine trees.

3. That the language sounded different.

4. And gold ball necklaces.

It seemed everywhere I went the necklace was dangling in front of me. I wasn't noticing faces, instead I was seeing those darn balls of gold. As if I was saying, "Yeah she has one- Oh yeah her too- Hey, isn't she too young to be sporting balls already-- Wow, she dresses to impress, get a load of the size of those balls." Women, girls, and chubby babies with no necks, the necklace was theirs. It seemed that if you lived in Marseille and didn't have a gold ball necklace you didn't belong.

French husband is not from the south of France. He didn't notice the gold ball necklaces. "God what? Corey quit saying, "God balls!" He said to me like I was making fun of God's anatomy. "I am NOT saying, G-O-D balls, I am saying GoLLLLLddddd balls!"

After living in Marseille for a few months, I became a "Pro-gold-ball-observer." I could pick out the old gold ball necklaces from the newer ones. I learned that big gold balls didn't mean better, and that the best ones were linked together.

Then one day I met an older women who had lived in Marseille for over 80 years. She knew the best place to buy cheese. That Friday was the best day to buy fish at the Vieux Port, and that the Mistral, wasn't just a name to describe the wind in the south of France. She also had the answer to the gold ball necklace mystery.

The Collier Marseillais, or Grain d' Or, is a necklace that is added on to, one-by-one, as time goes by. When a girl is born she is given a chain with one gold ball. As each moment in her life comes to be, the child is given another gold ball to string on her chain. A first word, a first tooth, the first step, her first day at school ...by the time of her 21st birthday or her wedding day, the necklace will be ready to link. The young woman would have a full necklace of golden memories. Of course the wealthier the family the more solid the balls of gold were, "See mine? The balls haven't any dents, they are solid gold." Madame also pointed out, "Nowadays, a baby girl is given a full necklace at her birth, there is nothing special about that, no "first" grain d'or to give!"

How do you honor your "first" time experiences? Here is hoping each is a grain d'or!

(Note: This is an older post from my blog.)

Symbols of Faith...Good Friday

An angel drops flowers like rain from heaven. The background of tangled tree branches beginning to bloom, speak of rebirth. A symbol of life continuing.

The rusty window frame holds fragments of tinted glass. Light pours through reflecting soft notes of color. What do you hold on to when you are broken?

Layers of time past and present...the broken stained glass renders Mary holding Jesus faceless. Though the light continues to shine spilling on those who walk by.

This tomb made me gasp. The blue eyes of a child, the ruby lips, the iron door delicately designed with flowers. The sorrow of death and the hope of an afterlife.

Pere Lachaise captivates the imagination. It takes you to a place deep within. Fragmented stone statues, engraved words, iron gates that are unlocked....names of people of the past and bouquets of flowers with fragrant dried petals.

Messages of life and death, are within the walls that surround it.

A larger than life stone statue sits with her eyes closed, her arms are broken...her lips partly open as if she might utter a word. Stories vanished in the earth.

The tomb of Heloise and Abelard, 12th century lovers, is one of the many stories that rest in Pere Lachaise.

Photos: Pere Lachaise on the feast day of Good Friday...darkness gives way to light.

Beaujolais Nouveau

                        

Beaujolais Nouveau, is the first wine of the season to be uncorked. It is a big deal in France. An honored tradition. Every year on the third Thursday of November, you can hear Beaujolais Nouveau being poured, followed by a lively conversation about this years grapes. Predictions are set in place regarding the flavor of Beaujolais Nouveau as an indicator: "Is this a good year for wine or not?"

Being a girl who likes to set tables and create a party, this is right up my alley! A double header you might say, Beaujolais Nouveau and Thanksgiving! What an opportunity to spice up and melange the Franco/American traditions!

                        

This evening I will attach a tag on the backs of my guests. As they click each other's wine glass and Sante (cheer,) each other, they can also try to figure out their tag name. Most of the names are off the wall, and a few are the names of different wines. Would you like a tag? Happy "Opening,' Beaujolais Nouveau!

Photo: Cropped menu sign and the tags I made for this evening...Chair balancer should be a hard one to guess!

P.S. Thanks Brother Mathew for the corrections and good liner!!

French Feast

The French love food! Right down to their pieds.

They do it right, it is a ritual, in perfect timing with the church bells.

From the white linen, to the perfect baguette...

Their fork and knife dance around the plate, swirling

and twirling; they don't eat they dine!

The art of food belongs to them!

Photo: Chalk board marks the daily menu.

Mademoiselle Auguste Chier's Trousseau

Madame Chier sat side by side her daughter as she dipped her fountain pen lightly into the inkwell...

The composed list started with Auguste's bed sheets. Madame gave the last letter an extra long swirl, "...An elegant way to make the bed..." she thought smiling to herself.

                                                                                                                                                     "Maman, maybe it would be prudent to commence with my blouses rather than the bed linens?"

Madame Chier took no notice of her daughter's blushed cheeks and continued to write;

6 Towels.

6 Wash clothes.

9 White shirts and 3 colored.

2 Nightshirts...and again giving the last letter a sensuous swirl!

"Maman, you have purposefully given special treatment to two of my most personal items, please can you tally my trousseau without drawing attention!"

Madame Chier re-dipped her pen while casting a playful glance at her daughter, she noted;

10 handkerchiefs.

9 pair of stockings, 5 in wool and 4 in cotton.

1 Robe.

4 Blouses.

1 Box spring for the Bed.

MAMAN!! What have you in your head? Look how you wrote BED!!! My future Mother-in-law will certainly think you ill-mannered!

Without a doubt of that she went on penning the list,

3 pantaloons for everyday.

1 nice outfit.

2 Underwear.

Mademoiselle knew this was coming though she squirmed in her chair nevertheless, and bite down on her lip for safe measure.

1 Hat

1 Wool beret

Dear reader, if you had any doubt that Madame Chier was a rebel in her time, you will note that in the exact middle of her daughter's trousseau she wrote:

1 iron bed with a winter mattress in wool and a summer mattress in horse hair.

The clever playfulness of such a wise Mother! Madame Chier knew how to ruffle the petticoats of the Victorians...her duty wasn't seen as drudgery, with such a delightful dish of humor! Surely, her daughter fainted on the spot. The list continues, faithfully adding each and every item of her daughter's gathered belongings.

At last the signature of approval was dated the 1st of October 1890.

Photo: 19th century French list, photo and lace.

ps: reposted this post, that is why some of the comments have older dates.

French Bakery

                     

Going to the boulangerie is a daily habit for most French people, the baguettes they buy today rarely last until tomorrow. The good bakeries are easy to locate by viewing which one has the longest line before mealtimes, trust me the longer the line the better the taste. The hardest part for me is (trying not to drool while I wait...) to simply buy a baguette and not one of the thousand little temptations waving their hands at me! I have enclosed a partial list from the blackboard of the daily pastries...I do not want you to lick the screen... The list includes: pies, golden puff pastries filled with cream, cakes with strawberries and raspberries, and everything imaginable in the land of d-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s!

                     

Many baguettes fill the baskets, a variety of sorts, where do you break bread?

photos: a French Bakery where the little cakes took up most of my time. I would have added a photo if I hadn't devoured them. Pass your mouse over the photos than stop to read a hidden message, each day there is a detour there for you.