French la Vie

What did you do today?

Gabriel licked the beaters.

 

 

Olivia grew out of her swimsuit.

 

 

Thirty Pounds of Roses

 

My cousin Linda sent me this enchanting video as it reminded her of my friend Annie and our rose jam.

What Type of Doorway is This?

Blackberry Teardrops

Blackberries

Very few this year, I stead of stained hands from blackberry juice I had more scratches than berries, and those I did pick were not plump. The handful above is after a mile of walking along dried-up berry bushes, the vegetation aching for water.

Nevertheless, I am determined to find some more to make at least one pot of jam.

 

The Invitation: Oriah Mountain Dreamer

 

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."

Text from

The Invitation Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Husbands Who Say Yes

 

A group of us talked about our husbands and how they sometimes don't seem to listen; instead, they say yes to whatever we are saying and later say, "What? I didn't agree to that?!" We were sharing tales and laughing in relief that we were not alone in having similar husbands in the yes game.

A recently married young woman chimed in, "My husband is the same," she started, "Several months ago, my husband and I were staying with a bunch of friends for a weekend in a house in the countryside. Upstairs there was a large dormitory, and as we were the last to enter, two twin beds literally on opposites of the room remained for us. Nothing could be done about it, so we said goodnight, crawled into our beds that felt miles apart, and went to sleep."

I wondered if she had missed the point of our comparing notes about our husbands when she added, "As I often do, I started blabbering in my sleep. The next morning at breakfast, our friends were having a good laugh as they told us that I was carrying on a nonsensical monologue the night before and that my husband on the other side of the room was responding to me in his sleep, saying, "Yes, yes, yes..."

 

 

Tender Heart, The Meaning of Life.

Gabriel was sitting on the couch, his little legs in a position I could not mimic, his hands on my knees as I told him stories of my dad. "My dad, named Vo, loved motorcycles. He had motorcycles to ride in the fields, on the roads, on uphills, and on racetracks," I leaned in close to Gabriel, "Vo would be impressed with your bicycle riding; you are so fast!" Gabriel listened thoughtfully. He asked, "Where is Vo?" I smiled into Gabriel's eyes; "Vo died long before you were born." 

A little frown on his brow, "Why did he die?" he asked.

"He died because he was old." as soon as I uttered those words, his lip quivered as if his heart knew the depth of life, his heart, you could say, was on his sleeve.

I knew how Gabriel looked at me; he was thinking, "Do you think Vavie is old?"

With a child's honesty, he solemnly said, "Yes. Why aren't you dead?"

Looking into his sweet baby face, I grinned,

"Because it isn't my time yet. I am here, and hopefully,

I won't die so we can play for a long time."

His frown softened.

Chelsea added, "Do you remember what Mana (his other grandmother) said about people who die?"

"Yes, they go to heaven."

"Do you know heaven is?" I asked.

"No, it is in the sky. Do you know?"

"I want to believe it is love, a big happy love, love that holds us all together forever."

And with that, he said, "Come play with me."

And I did.

 

My French Village

 

Before living in this French village, we lived in Marseilles; before that, we lived in Paris. Our village isn't touristic; it is over 1200 years old.

 

 

 

For the thirty-four years, I have lived in France, this is where I have called home the longest.

 

 

 

The French boulangerie (bakery) with a wood-burning oven is around the corner from where I live. There are three bakeries in our time. The one above was the most beautiful. They retired and took everything out and turned it into an apartment. The front is now grey and not at all charming. 

 

 

The French baguette. A daily event. 90 cents.

 

 

 

As well as the daily temptation.

 

 

 

The Maisons (houses) are painted in eye-candy colors.

(Want to take art classes in France, ask my friends, the Vieths.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can read part of a person's life through French window shutters.

Chances are that if they are closed, the person is not home, the afternoon sun is too hot, bedtime or they have moved.

Otherwise, the shutters are opened.

 

 

 

There are sixteen fountains in the village where I live. They are dried up from the drought.

 

 

 

 

This is my neighbor's car, and I want it.

 

 

 

 

 

The Mediterranean is twenty minutes away. The French Rivera a hop skip and a splash. The best bit about our village is there are over twenty-plus brocantes (antique fairs) every weekend within an hour's drive.

 

 

 

The door that leads to my friend's home is right around the corner from where I live.

There is hardly any parking in our village center, so walking is the easiest way to travel. It takes me as long to walk to her house or the grocer's, the post office, the bakery... as it does to walk to my car.

 

 

 

Most French villages are circular in design. The church or city hall is in the center.

 

 

 

 

In the southern Provencal region of France, the shutters are often pastel, with red tile roofs called "tuiles." Also, there is a thin sugar cookie called a tuile, shaped like the roof tiles. They are served with ice cream. The rooftop tuiles were made in our village as it produced many tiles and tuiles. Tuiles were made by women using their thighs as moles. Hence, various sizes exist.

 

 

 

Everything we need is within walking distance. That is the luxury of living in a small French village:

You never have to use your car for the basic needs of running a household.

The grocer, the doctor, the post office, the church, the bar (like how I put church and bar next to each other?), the bakery, the hardware store, the bank, and the pharmacy are all within five minutes on foot.

(Want to know the most popular baby names in France, check this link, I can tell you "Corey" is not one of them.)

 

 

 

Living in the village center, you can hear the church bells and the children playing at recess.

I also hear our neighbor's chickens. It doesn't bother me, but I might consider complaining if they bring in a rooster.

 

 

 

Though it takes more than five minutes to walk anywhere when you live in a French village because one runs into everyone and their dog, two kisses and "Ca-va?" takes time, which is an extra plus.

(A list of the top French films... or at least this site says so...)

 

 

 

When the fountains were running...

And trees were around every corner.

Over fifty of them have been cut down due to a 

Bug brought in on the American cargo ships from WWII.

___

 

 

The church around the corner rings its bells every hour, telling the time of day or night by how many bells rung. So when it is twelve o clock, it rings twelve times and then repeats itself in case you missed it. Plus, it rings every half of an hour twice, which makes one o'clock confusing.

____

 

Do you have any questions regarding French life?

There is Light

    

 

 

« We do not get what we expect,

we stumble on cracks and are faced with imperfections. 

Bonds are tested and tightened.

and our landscape shifts

In sunshine and shade.

 

There is light.

 

There is.

 

Look for it.

 

Look for it shining over your shoulder.

on the past

 

It was light where you were once-

It is light where you are now-

 

It will be light where you will go again. »

 

A beautiful passage from Call the Midwife.

Dining Conversation

 

When you visit Provence, we will taste our way through the countryside.

We will do breakfast at a cafe,

lunch at a bistro,

tea at a salon du the,

an aperitif at a bar,

dinner at a typical French restaurant, and if you have room...

We will have dessert too.

I will translate the menu if you do not read French. Though I must tell you I will translate meat dishes as cow, pig, duck, horse... Cote du Boeuf: is a side of cow, okay?

But when it comes to the desserts, you will lick my face with happiness, even if I do not share. I will translate each dessert down to the speck of sugar detail.

You will have lavender creme brûlée                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    , and I will have Tarte Tatin with vanilla bean ice cream.

 

 

 

When you come to France, please wear elastic band pants.

Be prepared to walk, talk, and eat.

"Eat! No, do not say that... do not say eat to describe dining. Say, Dine." French Husband corrects me and adds, "And the brocante?"

"And we will go to the brocante after we pig out," I add with my lovely twang.

 

 

Because I love the brocante, I love to do the food thing more, can you believe that?

I don't know if I do.

We will go to the grocery store, the bakery, and the market...

And at the brocante, we will buy dishes, linen napkins, silverware, and glasses.

Hot and Cold

This was the view from the brocante today.
It was over a 100 degrees.

Afterwards, we went to dinner and sat in the shade, the weather started to cool off. Before long it started to hail.
So strange to feel the heat of the day give way to hail.

Though ice and buckets of rain were welcomed.

The drought is severe within France - this hailstorm drenched me but barely the earth.

Favorite Finds from the Brocante this Weekend

Our home is going to look like a church if I keep this up.

11 Years and We Picked up Within Seconds

 

 

text by my friend Linda Marcov 

“ Sometimes things are just made to happen. Our friends Corey Amaro and Yann Rolland-Benis were attending an antique fair in a village about an hour and a half away from us. Not wanting to miss out on an opportunity to visit with them we agreed to meet at the fair. Corey is an exquisite designer and has a huge following of clients that she shops for. So it was understood she would be working first, playing later.

The parking areas were filled to the brim, and the fair is large, I said to Ludmil oh dear, how will we ever find them? We haven’t seen them for over11 years . 10 minutes into our arrival who should tap me on the shoulder, Corey and Yann? We hugged, chatted briefly and encouraged Corey to continue with her work we’d text one another and meet up later . It was a really hot hot day and sooooo many people! We decided to eat early, like 11:30. Guess who made the same decision at the same place . Mind you there are 1,000s of people at this fair . Again a quick chat and Corey was on her way , and we were as well . Fast forward about 30 minutes, and I say to Ludmil, “ I don’t think I can stay out in this heat , I’m going to text Yann and tell him I’m sorry I’m overcome with the heat and need to head home . Corey wasn’t expected to finish for several hours. Just as I’m ready to call him, he calls me , and tells me the heat has got them headed home to their friend's house and would we like to come by! Yes, yes, yes. So we could get in the pool, cool off, and have the most delightful visit. It was as though we had seen them last week. Time closes when you have that kind of friend connection, we retold old stories and new ones, they now have grandchildren, we have great-grandchildren…. It was hard to head back home; we talked on the way out the door, more in the driveway, again as the car was pulling out; that’s how it is with those kinds of friends. 

Corey will be hitting the pavement at the fair tomorrow, but for one time and one time only, I’m really happy it was so hot, and we all had to take a break at the same time. 

Photos of the outside of their friend's home, it’s a grand home, with exquisite French antiques, infinity pool, and a view that stretches out to the acres and acres of vineyards.”

 

 

Summer Days

Golden

 

 

Golden light on the first evening at our friends Rodger and Arnelle's slice of heaven.

Whenever I am here, I am filled with gratitude for their generous hearts and this beautiful countryside.

A pure gift.

Tomorrow there is a big fat juicy brocante nearby, and yet the temptation to forego it and stay here.

Thankfully, we will be here all week; otherwise, I would be in a struggle to debate my desires.

Fortunately, both are in my hands! How lucky, how thankful, what a holiday!

Work and pleasure gliding by each other without strain.

Golden light shines the way xx

 

 

 

How Do You Say I Love You?

How do you say I love you in sign language?

I taught Gabriel how to hold his three fingers up.

Chelsea sent me this picture as they were on vacation,

I noticed that Gabriel had his three fingers held up.

Of course, a sweet baby smile speaks of love too.

 

The Story Teller

 

What story are we living in?

What story are we sharing?

What story are we listening to?

Are we the storyteller?
Or the one who listens?

Or maybe some of us drink it in and process it later?

 

 

 

A child's handwritten postcard tells her story to her friend Claudie.

What story will we write today?

Will it be a big fish?
Will it end happily?

Or maybe it will be a poem or a song?
Exclamation! Period. Coma, Never-ending...

 

 

Let your voice, the inner one, be heard.

Yann’s Family Photo

Yann, his sister Arnelle and his mother.

 

 

Terms of Endearment

                        

"Mommy, why does Kristi call Max Honey? Why doesn't she call him Peanut-Butter?" Sacha asked when he was three.

Some of the terms of endearment in French I don't mind: Mon petit Coeur de sucre (my little sugar heart,) mon Tresor (my treasure,) or ma belle (my beautiful.) But being called ma puce (my little flea) or ma bichette (my little goat) or ma petite crotte (My Little Poop! A very affectionate term, don't you think?) Or mon chou (my cabbage) doesn't ring my bell.

Peanut butter doesn't sound that bad when you think of it. Well, as long as it isn't chunky.

When French Husband was seven, he would hold the chimney broomstick as a microphone and sing "Que Je T'aime" by Johnny Hallyday" (A French Elvis.) He told me, "I loved that song, and I sang it all day. Johnny was screaming his love for a girl...and God, it ripped my heart open every time!"

I would have loved to have met my French Husband when he was seven.

"Ah ma moitie of a peanut butter et miel tartine! (My half of a peanut butter and honey sandwich, in Franglais.) Sing me Que Je T'aime!"

My French Husband calls me: Lupy. I call him "Cherie FM".

My Dad would say, "You can call me anything as long as you don't call me late for dinner."

What are your terms of endearment?

Driving Through

Driving across France.

From one coast to another.

From cool weather back to the heat.

Fields and fields of sunflowers, wheat, and

cows chewing their cud.

Glorious rain somewhere along the way.

What filled your day?

 

 

Tattoo Artist on a Train

Washable pens

on a three hour train ride 

Inspired tattoo artist 

creates his art.

 

There is a Path

There is a path well worn and true.

Leading along the Normandy coastline

with a history as deep as the sea. 

Today it is peaceful.

 

 

We are here visiting Yann's family.

The never-ending beach goes on for miles.

The low tide extends so far out that one has to see it to believe it.

They are constantly moving and satisfying beauty. However, the tide flows.

 

Vastly different in numerous ways compared to the south of France.

One advantage is that it isn't hot, welcoming after the heatwave we have had back home.

 

 

There is a path that leads to many others.

Yann's family has lived in Bretagne for generations. Yann's grandparents had a summer house in Normandy where he spent the summer months. His niece moved to Normandy years ago. Then his sister retired to Normandy.  And lastly, and recently, his mother. It is strange not to be in Bretagne; it feels like Normandy is just a holiday, and they will all return to Bretagne. But that is not the case.

 

The Walk to Buy. Baguette

 

 

 

 

Unfinished

is anything ever finished?

 

Brocante Buddy

Normandy a Peek into a Brocante

A peek into a brocante shop proved that the prices are better than the brocantes in Provence,

Even if nobody wants an armoire!

 

Fan the Flame!

Normandy Olivia Meets Her Great Grandmother

Great Grandmother is 92 years old,

and Great Grandchild is 9 months.

Going to Visit Yann’s Mother

on the train

two little ones in tow

when traveling with children one needs a uhaul!

diapers, snacks, books, toys, bibs, sippy cups, car seats, a stroller…  legos falling between the cracks, water bottles rolling under the seats…

a man dare told Gabriel to SHHHH! And Gabriel wasn’t even being loud, though he did sing , “Jingle Bells” a few times. I starred the man down, he mustn’t have grandchildren,

It is worth it even if I felt like Chelsea and I were a human trampoline for Olivia for the last five hours. 

a mobil aged baby cannot and should not understand sit still and we are thinking to go to see my mom about the time Olivia will be walking. love is the reason and crazy will be our theme sing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doing What He Loves

Doing what he loves.

Self made.

Far from home, plus freelance

means determination.

Not easy.

Especially, during the lulls where questions pop up like weeds.

Following passion is rewarding - mixed in with its share of doubt and worry.

He is doing it, and I am proud of him.

xxxx

 

 

 

Lorca: Love Poem

 

 

 

IT’S TRUE

"Ay, the pain it costs me
to love you as I love you!

For love of you, the air, it hurts,
and my heart,
and my hat, they hurt me.

Who would buy it from me,
this ribbon I am holding,
and this sadness of cotton, 
white, for making handkerchiefs with?

Ay, the pain it costs me
to love you as I love you!"

—Federico García Lorca

 

---

While watching “Call the Midwife” episode 2 of Season 6, Lorca's poem was quoted.

Call the Midwife is beautifully written If you haven't seen it add it to your list.

 

This Healing Water

Thankful for the layers of colors

As her waving arms bring me in

holding me close

as I surrender to her 

healing power 

 

 

 

Not a Little Mermaid

not yet

but one day

Love is Like a Butterfly

The last several I have been back in California I noted that I hadn’t seen butterflies my mother she said that she had noticed that too. As a child chasing them was a given so we’re caterpillars.
I saw one the last time I was home.

One.

The Ever Flow of Nature's Healing Grace

 

“I go to nature to be soothed, healed,

and have my senses put in order.”

– John Burroughs

 

 

An Inconvenient Truth

It’s hot 

very hot…

 

 

All the shutters are shut to keep the heat out.

 

We only go out if necessary. Food is necessary. Walking is unbearable, and most French people walk to the market. Without air conditioning and walking, it’s one hot summer.

 

Carrying a pretty basket to and from the market doesn’t make the heat disappear. I went to throw my basket away and jumped into the sea. I don’t even care if the tomatoes get smashed; I actually do.

 

Most of the fountains are dry, as severe drought has caused that. It’s depressing to see the reality that the climate has changed.

Where are we going!? And are we going to change?

Is it possible?

 

The cicadas are working overtime. A constant reminder that it’s hot and their music is not music to my ears this summer. Poor little creatures.

 

Five minutes on foot is the Mediterranean.

a life savor.

 

9:30 at night.

 

 

Enchanting and Charming and HOT!

Most people in France do not have air conditioning. There was never a need. Most apartment buildings cannot have air-conditioned because how/where would the evacuation units and vents be?  And in the small villages, the evacuation units would create more heat in the narrow streets.

Fans are in demand.

 

Now I understand the reason for the meaning of siesta.
Go out in the morning, come home, go out in the evening.

If you’re lucky to work at home, that is.

I feel sorry for those who have to take the bus or the metro or walk in the middle of the day; it would be hellish. At least cars have air conditioning and so do office buildings… 

Earth has changed. I wish I could feel hopeful… Yes, there is love, family, friends, and goodness.

and the climate has changed

And life is changing with it. 

An Inconvenient Truth.  

Where will we be next summer? 

News Flash

News Flash

In case you have been wondering where I have brocante items for sale.

Please go over to my Facebook and follow my page. 

French la Vie

 

and or on my Instagram

Corey Amaro

 

If you see something you like send me a message and I will send you the details.

 

xxx

May Your Day…

(Quote by Brad on Instagram)

Forever Happy

When I ask him to smile

He overdoes it.

or as he says,

 »It is his American smile. »

 

We went on the boat to the next hamlet between Cassis and Marseille.

Morgiou. 

Next time we will leave early so we will have time to stop for a bite to eat. The last time we had dinner there was for our third anniversary -  talk about a million years ago, yet it appears unchanged.
I wish it were the same for me, but then the history formed in my cells and reflected in my wrinkles wouldn’t be with me.

A Child on a Summer Day

and then again

When I realized the grocery shop would  soon close

Gabriel decided to crawl?

 

6:30 rise and shining

Breakfast, then out to the beach.

Sand and salt

Balance along the wall to the park. 

5000 steps later

Nonstop play

a cold shower turned into a water fun fest

A big creamy lunch with gnocchi

and fresh summer fruit

Two stories…

 

The longest deserved nap.

 

 

 

Frenchman in Seattle

a Frenchman in Seattle

Obviously French

a stripped shirt

a beret

needs a baguette, a bottle of wine, cheese.

and mustard.

Bastille Day,

 

July 14th, Bastille Day

Here is a toast, or more a wish, a hope, a prayer, a reflection_

May peace come without violence,

Without manipulation,

or taking what belongs to others.

May we live our lifting each other up with understanding and acceptance.

National holidays often come with a painful past.

To celebrate one's homeland, may it be to see the errors, seek forgiveness, and 

celebrate community and peace obtained for all people. 

 

 

 

 

Filling Up The French la Vie Thank You!

 

 

I am passionate about old things and enjoy sharing my experience and connections with others. When you come along on a French la Vie, you will meet like-minded people who create with and collect antiques. We will be inspired by visiting private homes, shops, and studios in the Provençal countryside. Meeting the French in their intimate, off-the-beaten path to shop and dive deeper into the French lifestyle of charm.

This truly is a one-of-a-kind journey.

 

REVIEW 

"While I did find some treasures to bring home, my primary attraction to this trip wasn’t the shopping but the French Life aspect of the trip.  I loved staying at Corey and Yann’s house and enjoyed the friendly meals shared in the beautiful settings.  Visiting collectors and artists in their homes was a highlight for me.  As a tourist, it is a rare treat to get to experience the home life of native residents.  Each home was unique and reflected the interests and discerning eye of the owner.  The days were packed yet leisurely with unhurried visits and relaxed meals.  I would say that this trip is a feast for all the senses – the sea of treasures at the brocantes, the picturesque narrow streets, the delicious food, and the sounds of the mistral wind and church bells.  I can conjure these up in my mind and relive the pleasures of this trip."

Dina Lindquist, Oregon

FLV May 2022

 

 

 

French la Vie Brocante

Dates for 2023

Brocante adventures in Provence.

Four guests - maximum:

April 18-25th - Two places remain

May 3-10th - Two places remain

May 24th-31st - Sold Out (with one reserved)

June 27th-July 4th... Sold Out

September 5th- 12th - Sold-Out

September 26th - October 3rd - Two places remain

October 12th- October 19th Sold Out

 

Thank you so much! I am happy many of you want to join me in Provence!

xxx

 

 

Pages From my Inspiration Scrapbook via 1990

These pages still speak my language.

Roasted Apricots with Panna Cotta

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you, Denise, for the delicious dessert and recipe from:

 Laura Calder’s Dinner Chez Moi Cookbook

In August our friends Denise and Vlad are coming back to visit! It has been a long time since Covid restrictions prevented all of us from traveling for a couple of years! Tourism has exploded in France. The saying holds, "Everyone and their dog" is here.

Denise is an excellent cook, and I can hardly wait to sit at her table again and again and again.

What is one of your favorite summer recipes? Please share it with me and a photo, if possible, so I might post it to my blog and share it with everyone.

 

 

 

Flowers

 

Another lucky find! Several floral croquis designs for silk fabrics.

This is a sampling of one of the panels. Works of art. Clever, creative,

and set aside in a massive folder for me to find a hundred plus years later.

What will I leave behind? Will anyone find it? I would hope we would leave paths of love.

 

 

 

"Have you ever heard
of a flower that never needs
Water, soil, or sunshine?

A flower that stays in full bloom
Through summer and winter
Through good times and bad"

 

 

"A flower that rarely gets smaller,
growing endlessly.
A few lost petals,
A little droop,
but, without a doubt,
it will always regrow
into something more beautiful."

 

 

"I have one of those.

I call it Love."

 

© Aldora Sparrow

Published: October 2008

 

Your Sacred Heart

Thank you 

xxx

"Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what we think, and in all things Keep ourselves loyal to truth and the sacred professions of friendship. It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to declare it:

I have liked to be with you, see you, and speak with you always. -

Author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

FEELING BETTER

AT LAST.

TODAY, I FELT MYSELF WITHOUT A SINGLE DOUBT.

I SLEPT 11 HOURS THAT IS UNBELIEVABLE!

ALL CAPS.

ALL GOOD NEWS.

I went for a walk, a small one, the sun on my face felt soooooo good!

Yann is recovering, his only complaint has been tiredness and a sore back.

Nevertheless, we are still living in separate parts of the house.

Thank you for every gesture of get well thoughts!

We appreciate them xx

I want to go to the brocante... but of course, that will have to wait a while longer due to our unexpected Covid guest that I do not plan on entertaining not one single bit!

The Never-Ending Story

This morning after nearly three weeks in bed or very close to it I felt a shift of energy and a spark that maybe this was finally the end of this lung infection. Yesterday, was the last day of two weeks of Treatment and antibiotics. 

I was cautious. Actually, lectured myself to take it slowly, “Okay, I could do three things, so list them...”

Yann, who went to a long awaited wedding this weekend of very dear friends of ours son, which had been postponed twice because of Covid. Called from downstairs, “Guess what?”

Yan tested positive for Covid. As did others from the wedding.

I sat on my bed.

Fingers crossed.

“Stay on the other side of the house. Wear at mask. Hope you do not feel to wretched.” I called back.

Well, this is a twist to the plot.

Stay tuned.

How Time Flies

 

My five little nieces back in 2008 in their dress-up clothes, looking at one another, dreaming of romance in castles, and pretending they were grown-up... I told them I would tie a brick to the top of their heads to keep them pint size. They think I am kidding. Little do they know that if the brick idea worked, I would probably do it.

(How could this be 15 years ago, almost to the day!? The youngest is Kate. She will graduate next year from high school.)

 

                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                 

 

The fallen hair ribbon as she runs.

 

 

                                                            

Photos: My nieces this summer.