30 April 2019
29 April 2019
Meanwhile Back to the Baby Watch
Chelsea sent me these photos as the two of them went away for the weekend, their last trip alone before the baby arrives.
34 weeks and counting.
Oh, little Boy Boy, we are so excited to meet you.
28 April 2019
Come Join Me on the French la Vie
These last two weeks and counting have been wonderful, very affirming that my passion for the brocante is something many others share. I love leading the French la Vie, sharing about my life in France and what it is like to live abroad these last thirty years, I love meeting people and hearing their stories and talking about old things and so much more. Gloria, Barbara, Susan, Jennifer, Carol and Jane you have made me laugh and live darn fully these last couple of weeks. Thank you.
Today we went to four brocantes, and we would have gone to more if the time did not run out, why do brocantes have to close around five in the afternoon?
A must a real must is to go to Avignon and stop by Pascale's universe called VOX POPULI you will not be disappointed, and you most likely will lose your socks.
Tell Pascale you are a friend of mine.
Best Brocantes:
Villeneuve every Saturday
Carpentras every Sunday
Porte de Vanves in Paris on Saturday mornings
Grimaud by St Tropez on Sunday mornings
Guy Sellam, Odile, and Bleu Berge in Isle sur la Sorgue
And of course chez moi xx
Carpentras
A sign I missed at the brocante! It is the name of our street in Paris!
I know I cannot have it all but I kind of wish I could.
Wink.
27 April 2019
Exploring Provence with the French la Vie
Exploring Provence with the French la Vie,
Today we went to the market in Lourmarin (every Friday morning) what a glorious spring day! The beginning of the season is magical with the irises waving and the birds singing.
Thank you Monique Alphand, Delphine Decompoix, Nathalie Masset, for opening your homes and shops to us. I am lucky to know you!
We went to lunch in Lauris, la Table de Margot (family owned inside a charming old shop. Aioli every Friday for a classic Provencal meal.
The village next to Lourmarin it has an extraordinary view from the Chateau's park.
If you would like to join me the next French la Vie is in June when the lavender is in full bloom.
French la Vie visits the Foraged Home by Joanna
Bravo Joanna your book is lovely.
"A celebration of both sustainability and design, this book presents beautiful interiors filled with salvaged, recycled, and repurposed objects from around the world.
Artful home interiors are born from curiosity, creativity, and imagination, yet many of us fail to see a potential curtain rod in a bamboo stick or a kitchen counter in an old carpenter’s bench.
Anyone can create a beautiful home without expensive store-bought pieces simply by foraging and salvaging. Discarded objects can be restored, recycled, or repurposed to fill any space with style. Presenting the techniques and philosophies―such as beachcombing, forest hunting, and urban salvaging―of savvy foragers from across the globe, this book showcases how they created comfortable and stylish homes by breathing new life into what most would consider waste.
In an era when sustainability, living off the grid, and reducing our eco-footprint have never been more important or appealing, The Foraged Home will provide guidance and inspiration to those looking to go beyond the world of mass-produced products.
300 color illustrations." via
The Foraged Home
If you would like to preorder it please click below.
Oliver Maclennan is a freelance copywriter and editor based in London.
26 April 2019
24 April 2019
While Scouting for the French la Vie
While scouting some new addresses for the next French la Vie group ...
My friend Jennifer found something that I did not see even though it was literally right under my nose and
if it were a snake it would have bit me.
An amazing 18th-century pique.
Jennifer said, "I am a fast learner! I have been watching you."
I am going to blindfold her.
23 April 2019
A Touch of Spring for the French la Vie
Walking around the countryside as Spring unfolds has allowed me to see nature's secrets. The barren branches, the buds bursting, the petals unfolding... I now know where the flowers bloom wildly, and where I can pick from the unattended fig and cherry trees.
Yesterday I went to pick some lilacs for my home and the bedrooms where my guests will be staying.
Then I gathered some long branches with tiny white roses.
My home has never had as many bouquets!
Darker lilacs grew further up the path so I gathered some of those too for the living room.
On the way back I saw my neighbor, she asked if I was hopping fences to steal flowers. I knew she was teasing, but to be sure I shared my source.
Today I saw an older neighbor, her arms overflowed with lilacs, she said, "Up the road, to the left, down the path and across the field there are wild lilacs bushes..."
I guess I am not the only one to find the secrets unfolding in wild places.
Tomorrow I will do the grocery shopping but today my nose is filled with nature's perfume.
22 April 2019
One Group of Friends Leave and Another Arrives
Gloria and Barbara both who have been to France numerous times and whom I have come to know over the years, and Jennifer a friend from way back when I lived in the Bay area let me lead them around Provence on the French la Vie. Gloria and Barbara are textile artists so their focus was on such lace, ribbons, fabric, silks, embroidery, more lace, buttons... they managed to fill their suitcases, carry-ons, plus five big boxes between them. Jennifer loves rustic antiques, my mom would be so "jelly", I think Jennifer should be my mom's picker!
At the end of June there is another place available for the French la Vie, the focus will be on visiting brocantes with highlights of the lavender fields and surrounding areas. If you are interested let me know.
We celebrated Easter by having dinner in Cassis. A glorious day with a sweet ending.
Tomorrow they leave and the next group arrives Thursday.
It is a very good thing I LOVE antiquing as I will be doing it for two weeks straight though as you know I can never get enough of it, and even that is an understatement.
Sacha is home visiting my mom and family, the photos he sent of Easter made me smile all the way down to my toes, HOME!
The traditions my mother so amazingly recreates and elaborates each year are thoughtful, and well loved. There is something to be said about consistency, the carrying on of traditions, of a loving generous matriarch. My mother is a genius, firecracker, creative force and damn awesome. Thank you, Mom, for doing everything that you do. Sacha is soaking it in.
21 April 2019
Joyful Easter to You and Yours
Happy Easter!
20 April 2019
Who Would be my Mom's Rival at the Brocante
Some say this is an old wire salad basket, where the washed salad was put inside then one would take the salad in the basket outside and swoosh it back and forth to dry the wet salad leaves. Others will say this wired basket from the 1900s was used to collect eggs. I am going to say it collects stories and mixes ideas so creativity can flow.
The delicate iron hands are door knockers called, "Fatima's hand", they have gathered their share of salads, eggs, and have seen people come and go.
Today is day number four of the French la Vie, we have been to two massive antique markets and countless private home brocantes. We were going to go to another antique market this morning, but the group opted to take a day to rest, regroup, pack some of their purchases to be ready for tomorrow's big antique market in Carpentras. When you travel with a small group, and with a local, you have the freedom to change your course, to breath in what you want and sit with what you have.
We are staying in my home so comfort is reassured and it gives my guests a sense of home since most of them have been
reading my blog we feel like we know one another, and they know every nook and cranny of where I live.
The portrait of Saint Martha taming the Tarrasque (The Tarasque is a fearsome legendary dragon-like mythological hybrid from Provence, in southern France, tamed...)
hangs in the hallway and protects the coming and going between the three floors of my home.
Jennifer a friend of mine back from when I lived in the Bay Area, came to France to help with the driving and be part of the group, Jennifer is a ball of extraordinary energy she has been like a right arm for me. The Brocante Bug bite her hard in less than one hour at the brocante... Though I wasn't surprised at the brocante bug as it bites nearly everyone I know. Jennifer is attracted to primintive, rustic charming antiques and has the same eye as my mom, they would be rivals at the brocante.
What type of antiques do you like?
If you ever come to Frence what would you lire to see?
19 April 2019
A Little Bit Pregnant
Seven months.
All good, all happy, all baby.
18 April 2019
Visiting Private Homes in France with the French la Vie
Along the back roads through Provence,
I am lucky enough that friends I have met through the brocante over these last thirty years invite my groups to come and see their homes. To go beyond the facade by entering into the soulful homes offers such thoughtful generosity into the culture and life of the French. Even if you do not speak the language of the host the spirit moves. I love that I can show those who come and join me a personal one of a kind experience by visiting my friends, to witness the charm of France and be inspired by both.
Such a treat to be welcomed into someone's home and allowed to go through all their collected brocante treasures.
We had lunch made for us, then tea, and dessert, fresh strawberries served in lemon juice and rum.
Friendship the true gift in this adventure.
17 April 2019
French la Vie This Week
The first of the season, French la Vie's latest group started out yesterday for a week, to be followed by a second group. Gloria, Barbara, Jennifer and I had such fun! Easter week is full of brocantes in villages throughout Provence, this first group wanted to focus on textiles as they are crafters and artists who teach classes on different techniques using textiles. Luck would have it that we have met the mother lode of textiles at every brocante we have encountered. So much so that my eyeballs are swimming in lace.
Lace, ribbons, notions, fabric, quilts... a bonaza of joy.
My longtime friend Jennifer from the Bay area has joined us and I am thrilled to spend these next two weeks together. She is a firecracker, a rock star a genuine teammate!
Please follow me on Instagram where I post photos and videos of what we are seeing and doing.
It is so easy to post to my stories on Instagram so if you want to "feel" like you are there, take a peek.
Today we went to Barjac that has a Bi-annual brocante throughout the village.
Baby bonnets everywhere I looked. Why is that?
If you were to come on a French la Vie what would you like to see? What type of experience in Provence would you desire?
I love what Myrna said when she came to France and went to the brocantes with us, she said, "Everyone should see a country through going to brocantes because you are able to see the countryside as you travel to out of the way antique markets, mingle with the locals, have guidance as to what things are and the history reveals the country's past."
We also have the most fun getting to know one another, and sharing a part of our lives together which during the week is charged with dosages of beautiful inspiration.
Each French la Vie is handcrafted to meet the dreams of each group that comes, no two French la Vie's are the same though each group meets my closest contacts and hopefully wants to explore the brocantes. In June my friend Francoise will lead a group in Bretagne as I cannot join them due to the arrival of a baby brocanteur that is due to come.
I am so lucky to be able to show you Provence through the lens of the brocante.
Happy trails ahead.
16 April 2019
Notre Dame love, faith and the promise of Joy!
Yesterday I wanted to share about Yann's marathon which was on Sunday
but the fire at Notre Dame consumed my every thought,
and the marathon trailed far behind in what I wanted to post on my blog.
Though today I saw a connection that seemed to bring a moment of stillness in the sadness of what has happened.
Chelsea (seven months pregnant) and I followed Yann while he ran the marathon in Paris by mapping out his course, calculating where and at what time he would be along the 42 km trail so that we could cheer him on as he ran by.
Yann was running faster than expected which meant we had to move faster between the meeting points if we wanted to see him. Our last meeting point before the finish line was in the Bois de Bologne at the 35 km point. When we arrived Chelsea noticed on the app that we were using that Yann had considerably slowed down, and we began to wonder if he was alright.
We stood on stumps to see if we could see him. If you have never been to a marathon let me tell you it is hard to find a runner in a sea of runners but at last, we saw him his hand was on his head as he weaved back and forth mumbling, "I cannot do it, it is too much, I cannot feel my legs, I cannot do it." He looked terrible he had the face of defeat. I started to cry, and cheer him on with a mumble of words and emotions, at the same time as I was uttering my encouragement, I saw Chelsea leaped from the stump and run to her father. She joined him in the race, putting her hand on his back, "Papa you have this, breath, your legs are moving, they are taking you to the finish line, breath, let the pain go, you can do this, focus on your breathing you are going to make it."
It was so beautiful to see Chelsea act without a moment of hesitation, without a moment of reflection to herself. She knew exactly what her father needed and she knew she could help him reach his goal.
I stood in awe.
And there it was in that moment, encouragement, an extension of oneself to another, love, faith and the promise of joy.
_____
Notre Dame love, faith and the promise of Joy!
14 April 2019
Notre Dame
Utter sadness, beyond scope, a tragic loss.
Notre Dame survived hundreds of year, touched millions, was a beckon of faith.
More than any other monument Notre Dame is the one I had visited the most.
Countless Masses and prayers, visits with nearly everyone I ever knew who came to Paris with me.
I wish words were magic, and that this would simply be a bad dream.
Words seem shallow in the depths of this moment.
I took the above photo on a rare evening where I waited to be the last person to leave Notre Dame.
And the grace and courage of the brave 400 hundred plus firefighters.
Sad day.
13 April 2019
Running the Marathon in Paris
Yann is running the marathon in Paris tomorrow (Sunday).
If you would like to cheer him, on and follow his progress you can do so by downloading the app Schneider,
then you will need to look up his name Yann Rolland-Benis.
He starts at 9:00 in the morning (Midnight in California),
Chelsea and I will go to different parts of the course to cheer him on.
Last year Chelsea ran the marathon this year she is doing a marathon due in June.
Things to know.
The Course throughout Paris
Last year's marathon runner.
12 April 2019
Photo Messages From Sacha
Should he shave his mustache? His beard?
I said no so loud I am sure he heard me in Seattle.
11 April 2019
In Memory of My Dad on his Birthday
Today was the day my dad was born.
Repost from 2008
------------
My dad's shop was a milking barn but when I was fourteen he stopped dairy farming and went into motorcycles. He kept farming rice, and went riding on the weekends.
My dad had many different motorcycles, his Harley was his favorite.
Later the shop became a hang out for those who loved to eat, breath and sleep motorcycles. My brothers, cousins, and friends still gather there to shoot the bull, drink beer and occasionally work on their bikes. My dad's spirit is alive and kicking, as his heaven might was here as well.
In the barn, or some call it the shop, the walls are covered with memorabilia...
Racing tickets, photos, news articles, tags, motorcycles stickers... it is like a gigantic scrapbook dating back to the late sixties.
The photos are fading on the walls.
Though if you ask anyone gathered there on a Friday night they will relive the moment as if it were yesterday.
Nothing is forgotten.
Nothing is worth nothing.
Every moment lives.
The Shop is where I feel my dad.
The pegboard holds some of his tools. There is something to be said for things that remain the same, used, borrowed, shared, but remain the same.
It makes me want to keep things the same at my home so when my children come back it will be familiar, consistent, memorable...
but our home changes every weekend with my buying and selling so I guess keeping anything the same would defeat the memory of how it is.
Inside my dad's Harley's side packs were his jacket, vest, chaps.
French Husband and I took them out admired them for a while, shared a story or two, shed a tear, then put them back where they belong.
Treasure chest of memories.
Open any drawer,
Each are stacked,
Haphazardly...
Organized...
Purposeful.
Glorious old tools,
to grab and use,
or just hold like a magic wand to take you back.
Those stools if they could talk.
If only they could talk.
I remember when they use to be in the house, by the bar that my cousin Doug made.
Later my mom changed the look of the living room and the bar-stools went to The Shop
When years of use rendered holes in the fabric my dad tape them with duck tape.
1972 and still standing strong.
Every Friday night the guys still gather in the barn the shop.
My dad would say it wasn't a place for ladies. Too much B.S.ing, drinking, and hot air.
Sacred ground.
The walls are lined with trophies, literally to the rafters.
Motorcycle trophies of my dad's and brothers'.
I don't know who has the most, they do, but they don't care about that.
Photos of my brothers, first on bikes, then on motorcycles.
We all started riding young. My brothers would say I didn't ride. I guess the scars I have just mean I fell.
And I am here to tell you
I don't remember the pain of falling, but the fun of riding.
Stacks of bikes where the cows use to gather in the stalls.
They don't give milk.
Heck no, they just gather dust and sometimes are salvaged for old parts.
As I took photos my littlest nephew tagged along.
He found a broken trophy top on the ground.
He asked me if he could play with it, "It fell off from up there Aunt Coco. Can I play with it?"
I told him he could have it.
I like to think my dad's spirit knocked it off just for him.
He pretended to be racing while he laid on the dusty barn floor.
Happily.
Zroom-Zroom is what he calls motorcycles.
The memories of the barn haven't died,
they are simply passed on,
raced out of the barn,
around the bend,
down the lane and take off.
--------
Your love is present and I am blessed because of it.
10 April 2019
Dogs Doing the Brocante
On top of the table
at the brocante
two dogs,
not one,
but two dogs sat on top of boxes of old postcards.
The brocante dealer tried to reassure me,
"They're not mean, just playful."
"Lucky for me," I tried to smile, "I do not need any more postcards."
Brocante with dogs. Is someone, somewhere trying to tell me something?
What would I have done if those little critters were hopping about on a brocante table that had everything I ever had hoped to find?
Good question, and so happy I did not have to confront that issue.
Doggone it!
09 April 2019
Off the Beaten Path in France, Where is it?
I am often asked about France, it makes sense given that I live here and write a blog about it. When I travel to a new place I like to have a few facts about the place in my pocket too. A good restaurant, a must see or do sort of thing, where to stay... a few starting bits so that I have a foot on the ground when I arrive.
The main question I am asked (outside of brocantes and where to stay) is about the secret spots, the hidden places, the off the beaten track... the real "France". I have thought about that question for awhile. Imagining a secret spot, some hideaway, where few tourists have been, a place that captures the French essence. Somewhere were someone could go and feel France embracing them in one juicy double kiss to the cheeks.
The hidden places in France...
When you are in France it does help to know that wherever you are is most likely knee deep with wonder and awe. With France being the most visited country in the world what secrets remain? In Paris alone, there are over fifty million tourists a year plus...
"6,100 streets in Paris
13,260 crossroads
3,000 km of pavements
33.7 km of Boulevards des Maréchaux around Paris
4.4 km of Grands Boulevards (between Place de la Madeleine and Place de la Bastille)
9,884 benches, 107 clocks, and 1,856 bus shelters
109 Wallace drinking fountains
2,417 km of sewers..."
Secret places in France...
I like grocery stores. And non-cosmopolitan cafes, bakeries that are not famous and sitting at the counter sipping on something, usually orange presse.
Over ten years ago I remember turning on the internet for the first time and instantly typing words such as:
France,
French,
Brocante,
Antiques,
French Antiques,
Undiscovered France,
Touring France...
and not one single thing popped up, instead, a blue screen starred back.
Now anything, everything, whatever we are searching for is ours in seconds.
Can there be a secret, a hidden place and off the beaten path?
Where can I learn to make Goat cheese in France?
Hot air balloons, boat rides, and charms?
Embracing your inner slowpoke.
Have you ever been on a train from Menton to Sospel?
How do I answer the question I am so often asked?
The first time I went to France was with my cousin Linda. My cousin was living and working in Germany when I arrived Linda asked, "Do you want to go to Paris? I need to go shopping, and I am thinking of Paris."
So we went to Paris.
Linda shopped. I tagged along.
We didn't see any of the sites other than taking a drink on the Champs Elysee. We walked down backs streets, and into little shops, we never saw one tourist, nor monument. It was magical!
Though Paris was awesome and the train ride was equally mesmerizing. I was hooked.
Years later when I married and moved to France, my parents came to visit me. We walked every single day from sun up to sunset. Each morning before heading out I would say, "Let's focus on Pain au Chocolat", or "The perfect rose", or "The best garden bench", and off we would go without any other agenda.
Now, what does this have to do with off the beaten trail and secret spots in France?
Not much.
Discovering a place is about going with your shoes off, with your hands ready to reach out. It is about closing your eyes and breathing with your heart. It is about getting lost and finding what you are looking for. Discovering a place is seeing the beauty in the smallest details: By holding beauty because you see it and not because someone has told you where to look. The secret spots, the hidden places, the off the beaten path... they don't exist per se, instead, people what to experience France of their dreams. They want to wake up to what they have read about, dreamed about, they want the Oh la la experience.
They need a brocante.
What am I saying. Forget that.
Off the Beaten Path places to visit in France:
Some of my favorite people in France...
What makes a place come alive? The people you meet and the experiences you share.
If you want to discover a place, let it soak into to you and take root. Take time to let it absorb you. Expect the unexpected as a gift. If you want to find that secret place, that off the beaten path, where tourist don't go, if you want the place that you dream about be it the cobble stones, the church bells, the croissants with butter filled happiness, the berets, the baguettes, the movie set imagery than come to France with your five senses as your guide. Trust yourself to find what you are looking for follow your insticts, let your desire(s) be your guide.
If you want to be the one of few, and not one in thousands then go explore France in the countryside, in the middle of France.
A house in the French Countryside, we have one for sale....
Or just join me by coming on a journey (French la Vie).
France.
I love it.
Add your French favorites in the comment section.
08 April 2019
Mini Tarte Tatins
Tarte Tatin is one of my favorite French desserts, it is a classic down to earth recipe when it comes to the array of French desserts, it is not the Marie Antoinette of pastries, instead, it is a French Country type that I can imagine having at a long farm table by an open fire.
The other day I had every intention to make a Tarte Tatin, but time was not on my side and guests where around the corner. So I had to improvise that is what I do since I usually have too many grand ideas and little time to put them in place. Or you can say I am scattered, or as my mother says, "... too many irons in the fire." Personally, I like working under pressure, I like the creative response it musters up in me.
Hence, Mini Tarte Tatin was born.
What you will need:
Apples
Sugar
Vanilla
Butter
Puff pastry
Cupcake tin.
Peel, core, and chop four Golden Delicious apples.
Sautee with a fourth of a cup of butter, a third of a cup of sugar and 1 tsp of vanilla (more or less since I never measure and I am guess-estimating.)
Sautee until the apples are golden and the sugar is caramelized.
Cut rounds of puff pastry dough, large enough to cover each cupcake tin space.
I made twelve. "As any grocery store has excellent puff pastry dough for under two dollars," as Annie use to say, "it is not worth making it from scratch." Which fits right into Corey Amaro's by the sit of the pants cooking style.
When the apples are ready add them to the pre-buttered tin.
Of course, you can add cinnamon, walnuts, raisins... but then that is not the classic Tarte Tatin recipe.
Then cover them with the puff pastry rounds, tucking the ends in a bit.
Bake at 350 degrees until the tops are golden.
When they are ready, take them out of the oven and flip them over onto a large platter.
Or gently scoop and flip each one over.
For added delight and that wow effect, you can drizzle caramel sauce and serve with ice cream.
Serve warm.
07 April 2019
Arriving to Marseille by Train
The TGV (high-speed train) from Marseille to Paris and visa versa takes three hours it is significantly faster than driving by car or by flying.
I returned home tonight after spending a few days in Paris visiting my dear friend Laura from Colorado and then this weekend with Chelsea.
Delightful.
Happy.
Even if too short.
"The train station in Marseille opened on 8 January 1848, on the land of the Saint Charles Cemetery.
The station is perched on top of a small hill and is linked to the city center by a monumental set of stairs.
Since 2001 the TGV has dramatically reduced the travel time between Marseille and Northern France,
traffic has increased from 7.1 million annual passengers in 2000 to 15 million in 2007 and the station is currently the 11th busiest in France."
The Entrance to the train station in Marseille.
"The station was once a key stage on the sea voyage to Africa, the Middle East, and the Far East, before the popularisation of flying. The station, originally isolated from the city, was equipped with a grand staircase, envisioned by Eugène Senès in 1911 and opened in 1926. It is bordered by statues inspired by all the distant locations to which people sailed from Marseille's port."
A bit of the French countryside.
If you take the TGV try to have a ticket for the upper deck, the views are spectacular.
I love to see how each season changes the landscape.
Steps leading down to the center of Marseille.
Marseille train station.
Beyond the mountains in this photo is Cassis,
to the left, about thirty minutes away is our village,
to the right about a fifteen-minute walk is the port entrance to the Mediterranean sea.
06 April 2019
Peeks into Beautiful Paris
Paris is a wonderland this Spring as the pink blooming trees are wearing nature's crown jewel.
Against the greyish white buildings, the pink is intensified.
The light in Paris, mixed with the stark stone facades and the blooming trees is striking.
- Notre Dame Cherry Blossom Trees.
- Rue Monge Cherry Blossoms in Bloom.
- Eiffel tower covered in Cherry Blossoms.
- Parc Monceau in Bloom.
- Jardin des Plantes in Bloom.
- Jardin Anne Frank
- via the response Google gave me
Palais Royal
A detail of the impressive facade of the Louvre.
The most beautiful person in Paris as I see it --- I can say that especially now.
05 April 2019
Sweetness of Friendship
“A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart,
chaff and grain together,
knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it,
keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.”
George Elliot
Yesterday evening I came to Paris to see my friend Laura who was in Paris from Colorado with her daughter Lily, Ryan her son in law and granddaughter Camille. We met for dinner.
The last time I saw Laura I was pregnant with Chelsea, Laura met Chelsea for the first time this evening and Chelsea is pregnant with her first child. I met Laura's daughter about eighteen years ago when she was doing a study abroad program in Spain. Lily came and stayed with us over Christmas break for several weeks. Such a delightful evening to meet everyone at once... well nearly everyone.
Laura and I spent time with reminiscing snippets of memories yet most the time fully aware and happy while soaking in each other's company. A well full of understanding the extraordinary circumstances of our meeting one another at the monastery.
As it is in friendship we picked up where we left off. How I wish I did not live so far away.
We walked around Paris with her two-year-old grandchild Camille who was in a stroller. A doll baby who has a vocabulary of a four-year-old.
Such fun seeing Paris through the eyes of a child.
I love you Laura and will miss you very much xxx
04 April 2019
Heading Towards Paris
Love as you know has no limits, and where takes us is on a journey to wholeness.
I am on the train to Paris... it is such a beautiful day, and as the train whizzes through the countryside spring is there waving its hands.
03 April 2019
02 April 2019
April First Joke that Still Makes me Laugh and Yann Not so Much
On April 1st the French give each other chocolate fish called: "Friture." The tradition has it that on the 1st of April children try to stick a homemade paper fish onto people’s backs without the person knowing it, then run away yelling, ‘Poisson d’Avril’ (April's Fish), which is like saying, "April Fools'!". The tagged person is meant to give the trickster fritures, small chocolate fishes.
Since Easter is usually around April 1st, the chocolate fish "fritures" are also given at Easter as well.
Back in the day, or I should say in the year 1900s give or take another thirty or so, the French mailed Poisson d'Avril cards to one another.
When French Husband first told me about this April's Fool fish thing it was back in 1987.
I had come to France to meet his family. During this time, which happened to be around the first of April he told me that April's Fool was about tricking someone by pinning or tapping a paper fish on someone's back.
A few days later on April first. I made two small red fish. French Husband and my Belle Mere (Mother in Law) were going to a meeting. Before they left I sneakily taped one fish on French Husband's back and another on my Belle Mere's back without them being aware.
I was tickled beyond belief at how "French" I felt as they walked out the door to their meeting.
When they came back I asked if anyone had noticed the fish tapped to their backs?
"What fish they asked?"
Their eyes widen as it registered what I was talking about, they quickly looked at each other's backs. I told them I had taped the fish to their backs before they left for their meeting.
Neither of them was amused.
In fact they looked at me like I was some sort of alien fish. I could feel myself sinking, going downstream. I had made a faux pas on the day were faux pas are expected. Duh.
French Husband questioned, "You put a fish on our backs as we went to an important meeting with our lawyer?"
"Uh huh. I did. But in my defense, I didn't know the meeting was important."
Needless to say, they didn't buy me any fritures chocolates.
I felt such a fool.
But it is SUCH a good memory!
After dinner they started to see they humor in it. Maybe the few glasses of wine helped.
Then as most jokes later are retold and told again they found it hilarious.
And eventually congratulated me on such a comic pull.
But still no fritures.
I have never fished anyone again.
Nor have I bought those fritures.
Though the old French "Poisson d'Avril" cards, oh yeah I have plenty of them.
What is it all about this Aprils Fools Day thing anyway?
Have you ever played a prank on the first of April? If so tell me about it in the comment section, and or if you have had a prank pulled on you.
01 April 2019
Portrait Memories of Carpentras 1914
Glued on the stone columns along the arcade in Carpentras was the reproduction portraits from Louis Rama
who earlier in the year had an exposition of portraits he created of WWI.
Louis Rama called the exposition "Our Faces 1914" their memories.
The exhibition was of portraits of soldiers curated from old photographs entrusted by families from Carpentras and the surrounding area. The families, inhabitants of Carpentras, had fathers, grandfathers, great grandfathers, who have been caught up in the agony of war. The project of this exhibition was to give them a face, to revive their memory in the face to face of drawings and paintings, and thus to make their presence appear amongst them, to make it evident in the walls of their town, as in their collective history that their stories, their lives are still amongst them.
The other day after the brocante, Yann and I went to Lunch as we walked to our favorite bakery in the area (JOUVAUD) we saw these amazing eye-catching portraits, we read their descriptions, their stories. I instantly took photos of each of them and shared them to my stories on Instagram knowing later I would write about them here.
Along each portrait is a hand-me-down memory, a tale, a snippet of each man's story from their families memory bank. The reflective memories not only tell a part of their lives in some way reflects our journey, our struggles, our dreams, our lives...
31 March 2019
All one Needs
All one needs is love, well actually to love and be loved.
Thank you, Mom and Dad (even though you are not here physically)
for the love, you showed me and for the love, I saw you share so freely with others.
Love what a difference it makes.
x
30 March 2019
Questions You have Asked Me?
I look forward to checking in with u every day because life in France has the appearance of something more. I still can figure out if this is true. So my question is a request to have you add small ideas of change that you have learned in France and from your mom.
France has a long rich deep history which weaves itself within time as it goes throughout the ages. Carried on with respect and sometimes upheaval the culture and history of France are present in everyday life. From the architecture, cuisine, the laws still intact from Napolean, an understanding and or acceptance of traditions mixed with change. I agree there is something more and I believe the history the roots make it this way. The small ideas of change and that is what they are small ideas that have influenced my life often without me even being aware of it. One thing I believe is that I made a conscious choice to understand the French culture and pass that on to my children. I wanted them to "fit in" not to stand out as the foreign kid, to be immersed in the lifestyle, the culture, the language, the history, the day to day life of France. Because of that desire, I worked hard integrating into life when I arrived over thirty years ago and tried to surround myself with French people and not just stay safe with people who spoke my language. and then pass that on to my children. Because of this, I love sharing the nuances, the beauty, the small things that make France such a lovely place to live and grow.
what are your thoughts when you peruse your readers comments on your stories? When you share your stories with pictures but We are unable to provide you with as much background in our comments.. do you wonder about our lives and try to imagine us?
One of the greatest gifts I have had is meeting so many readers from my blog. At last count several years ago we estimated that we probably have met over 700 people. Many of you have come to visit me, or I have met you in your homes, or you have sought me out in places I have been. I met Irina and "Alfredo" in Hong Kong, Merisi, Liesolette, and Dieter in Austria, Carri in Ireland, Joanna, Lynn, Mari, Linda, Ludmil, Susan, Stephanie, and PLENTY more in Marburger, Diogenes, Kaari, Shelley, Teresa...., at the Gilded Life in L.A., many of you Barbara, Jackie, Robin, Judy, Frieda, Ann, Gina, Cheryl, Joanna, Arnelle, Helen, Kipper, Cosifantutti, Jan, Sarah, Lizzie, Laurie, Sharon, Niki, Charland, Kim, Ching, amber, Shannon, Gary, John, Camy, Kristin, Melanie, Tamara, Elizabeth, Julia, Lorna, Finchely Papers, Patrice, Debbie, Christine,Vlad, Michelle, Rebecca, Dianna, Diane, Laura, Jani, Georgianna Lane, Blamey Rose, Denise, Joan from Bully, Krista, Ian, Laurie Annya, Tina... and those of you who have come of French la Vie Journeys, AND MANY MANY MORE the list goes on and on (and I should not list these names because there are hundreds more and I do not want to offend anyone) and I am ever so grateful, grateful for the encounters, the FRIENDSHIPS virtual and real, it would be so very hard to stop blogging because I would never want to end the vast community that is here. Yes it is impossible to comment on the comments, or respond to every email, if I did I would be living online and sleeping at the computer. But I do read every email and comment, those of you who have been commenting for years I feel I know and hope to meet you one day.
How do you do it every day?
Simply because of you.
Being a wife of a retired Marine and always saying goodbye to friends and family over the years, I would like to know how you handle it when you visit the USA and that long teary ride back to France.
Living in a foreign country, I have two places called home and family and friends that live far away. The homesickness feels so common that I think of it as a bruise on my arm that doesn't go away, I am ALWAYS missing someone. Therefore out of necessity, I know how to protect the "bruise". For me, I had to accept that this is my life, that it is a constant passage, part of the journey. It is okay to get sad, it is okay to feel melancholy, it is okay to sit with depression, loneliness, and longing, and it is okay to put those emotions, people I love who live far away in a safe place in my heart and not "think" about them in a way that will make me sad. It is how I protect myself from going insane.
I’m bringing my granddaughter to Paris next year, she will be 18. I will take her to all to the usual suspects but where is a fun place to take her shopping? Any special desert places?
Last summer my five teenaged nieces came to France to visit me. We shopped a little, but not enough for me to give you names of shops. Though I found this online and I agreed with it when I read it. Teen Shopping in Paris.
Other than the classics Cafe Flore, Laduree, Angelina's... there are so many wonderful places you won't be at lost to find one, sweet special dessert places are as easy to find as breathing. With that said if you look these names up online, you will have a few in your pocket
Berthillon Glacier
Carette
Odette
Des gâteaux et du Pain
Pozzetto
Stohrer
...
I'd love to hear about your BelleMere's experience during WWII also?
When France was occupied by the Nazis during World War II, they set up their headquarters in certain large often beautiful French homes throughout France. My Belle Mere's (Mother-in-Law's) parents' home in Rennes was chosen for such a purpose. My Belle Mere was sixteen at the time, she and her family were allowed to live in the basement while the Nazis took over their home.
At the same time, my Belle Mere's family who lived in Paris were afraid that Paris would be destroyed came to Rennes because they thought they would be safer, they moved in with my Belle Mere and her family, forty-five of them lived in the basement.
My Belle Mere's Father was active in the French Resistance. Living underneath them in the basement provided a sneaky eye's view on what was going on. It also proved a place easy to eavesdrop on the Nazi officers' conversations. He was allowed to ride his bicycle into the countryside to collect fresh produce and dairy products, a note or two was often slipped into the potato sack. Certainly, he feared for his life and the life of his family. But "...to sit and do nothing was like death itself." he later said.
My French family has many stories about life with the Nazi officers, oddly none of them are brutal nor ugly, seemingly surreal. The head Nazi officer was a family man and his wife like my Belle Mere's mother was pregnant. When my Belle Mere's mother went into labor, the head officer took her to the hospital and made sure that she had everything she needed.
I often wonder how it was to live like that? How it must have felt to be treated with odd respect, yet knowing a violent war surrounded them. To see the enemy as human, to see their lives similar and intertwine. It was as if the Nazi officers in their home were not part of the war. The twisted twist of being involved and yet not wanting to be.
As horrendous and evil as that war was, it seemed some small acts of kindness sipped out of such ugliness. Often at night, the Nazi officers played the piano, and the music seemed to settle their frayed nerves. Though my Belle Mere's family never once let down their guard and knew that death was as close as their doorstep. The expression, "killing with kindness," seemed to hold a raw meaning for them in times like this.
A family in my village (whose home was also occupied during WWII) told me that their Great grandmother was told after celebrating Christmas with the Nazi officers that occupied their home, "We have had a wonderful Christmas celebrating with you, we have enjoyed our evening together but if tonight we receive orders to kill you, we will." He said as he smiled and went upstairs to bed.
What do you like most to read (ex., books of what genre, magazines, newspapers, etc.)? What are your favorite books, newspapers, magazines? Do you read most often from a screen or in hard copy? If you listen to music, what type of music and in what setting (ex., streaming in the background when you are at home, in person in concert, on the radio, and so on)?
I enjoy novels in book form, though I do read the news online Washington Post, the Atlantic, New York Times, The Guardian, The Telegraph of Travel. I do not buy magazines and haven't since 2003. Mainly, because I do not want to store them, nor throw them away. I look online mostly. I listen to all sorts of music, not one thing in particular. But mostly, I like to work in silence, I usually have music on when company comes over, to Yann's playlist or Radio Paradise. When I am out walking sometimes I listen to music on YOUTUBE, or Podcasts.
Do you take them on your phone or with a camera. Do you use filters or any apps to get such great looks?
For my blog and instagram, I take photos with my cell phone (iPhone 7), simply because it is easier. On my blog, I rarely use a filter or apps, on Instagram I use a filter sometimes called Juno.
How do you come up with inspiration for posts and do some days feel as if you don’t want to do this anymore?
Either I write about something that I felt or experienced in the day. If I am tired or if something is going on that is too time or emotionally consuming I think about skipping a day or two. Usually, when that happens I repost something. For inspiration, I look at my day or my inner life.
How did you find your voice and what made you such a creative writer?
First Thank you for the compliment. That made my day. Though I know I could do better. For me, writing takes time, as in time to sit still in myself and listen, plus taking the time to write when I am not tired. Which is often not the case. Finding my voice has to do with the storyteller in me, the collecting of emotions that come with day to day life, then contemplation, and delight. To try to put what I see and feel into words, words that capture the heart of the matter. Going to the brocante or seeing art/beauty more so being with friends talking about whatever stimulates my imagination to write as well.
xxxxxx
29 March 2019
Questions / Answers about my Life in France
Where do you store everything you buy at the brocantes to be sold later?
In my house, in our place in Paris, in my studio, under my bed, in my closets, in the garage, between the sheets, under pillows, stacked on the bookshelves, on the chairs who needs to sit? Stacked in the corner, on the top on my head.
Do you have someone who packs it up and ships it out? Do you do your own bookkeeping?
All of which are time-consuming chores.
30 percent of what I do regarding my work with sourcing at the brocante is actually what I love best, going to towns in France, talking with dealers and buying antiques. The other 70 percent: Loading the car, inventory, taking photos, writing about the things I bought, sending out emails, writing potential buyers, posting to Instagram things I have for sale, collecting packing material, boxing items up, going to the post office, unloading the car again, the bookkeeping, paying taxes... is the work side of it that is simply that: Work. I do most of it by myself. Yann helps me ENORMOUSLY as he is my sherpa, bookkeeper and takes everything to the post office. He is my Brocante Bug Hero.
What is square footage of your places. Is property expensive one gets out of Paris?
Our home in Provence is 2200 square feet. In Paris 650 square feet. Property values in France vary greatly. To see how much a square foot costs in Paris click on this link
Also, click this 2016 Property price guide in France.
So many factors go into the value of property. This is a subject that is tossed around often in our home as Yann is a real estate investor.
Do you have a collection of photos saved in a file, with the wonderful quotes that you share, or do you take these daily and one at a time to post to your daily blog?
Oh, how I wish I was that organized. I am not. I do have photos, way too many on my phone and computer but they are not in any order. I do reuse photos I have, and forget to use others. For years I took photos daily. Though for the last couple of years I am so into what I am doing I forget to take photos and then wished I had so I could post a photo here. I have instagram and post photos daily on my stories simply because it is easier to do so.
So yes I have photos, take photos and forget to take photos, I am not at all dogmatic about how I go about posting... Except to do something on my blog every day.
When are you going to publish a "Book of Annie"? It could be a best-seller!
I do not believe her family would want that.
Will brown furniture ever make a comeback in France? Here they are marketing antiques as "sustainable" furniture because they almost can't give them away.
Brown furniture or Louis Philippe, certain Belle Epoque style, a certain type of brown furniture is and has been extremely cheap. It is exactly as you say: They almost cannot give it away. I do not see it making a comeback for a long time. Sustainable or unfortunately firewood as brown furniture cost less. A large brown armoire that used to sell for thousands now can be bought for 200 or less.
We are in Paris in May for a few days. Staying St Germaine area. Any local spot/spot you would recommend we check out.
28 March 2019
Q/A Second Part of What Some of You Have Asked Me
Do you like to garden? Or to design gardens?
I like to pick flowers in the gardens. I like to sit in beautiful gardens. I admire my mom's garden. I do not mind gardening but it is not something I think to do instead I do it out of necessity. I like to take photos of gardens. Do I like to design gardens? Not as much as I like buying garden elements.
What is Yann’s occupation?
Private long term real estate investor.
Other than family and friends what do you miss most about the United States?
Oh, that is an interesting question. If you had asked me that 30 years ago it would have been a very different response, and yet another different response twenty years ago. But now I have spent more time living in France than living in the States. At first (other than family and friends) I missed everything: Driving, talking, understanding, culture, food, lifestyle...
But not I feel more French than American. What I miss is teasing and joking in English, I miss big parking spots, customer service, no smoking zones, places like San Francisco, Westport, and my childhood church. But what I miss most...
My mother's home.
When you are talking with a French person who also is conversant in English, do you most often speak in French or English?
Most of my French friends I speak French to unless their English is better than my French, and it is the same way if I speak to a random French person I will speak French to them unless their English is superior to my French.
I have assumed that Chelsea and Sacha have dual citizenship and found myself wondering if Chelsea's child will also have dual citizenship.
Yes, Chelsea and Sacha have dual citizenship, and Chelsea's baby will too.
More to come tomorrow.
27 March 2019
Responding to Yesterdays Comments
Do the French have a specific retirement age? Will you and Yann ever formally "retire"?
"In France, the general rule is that you must retire at age 67 and you can retire from age 62, as long as you have worked 41 years. According to a 2008-law, which was strongly opposed by the Left, you are now permitted to retire later (until age 70), but only if you wish." Via Understanding France.
Regarding whether Yann and I will ever formally retire... at first I thought we would retire early, and travel. But life had a way of showing us other possibilities. We both love what we do, and as we work on our own we are lucky to choose when and where we work. So I suppose the answer is we will see, but I think not.
Will, you ever share your time at the monastery with us?
That time in my life is sacred. I was nineteen years old and stayed until I was nearly twenty-three years old. Living in the monastery in Pecos New Mexico was extraordinary, deeply profound, affirming, happy... I met and lived with people I still hold close to heart. As I was one of the youngest members in the community many of those who were in the monastery when I was there have passed away. I keep in touch with a few, but my heart holds gratitude, love, a large space for everyone I shared life with back then.
Talking about my experience of the monastery is challenging as it is hard to put into words something that was spiritual, something that was heartfelt, something that was woven into the fabric of my being without sounding trite or less meaningful than it was. I have never found the right words. When I do I will write. But in the meantime, I can say that I have the fondest memories of my time in the monastery.
Have you seriously considered writing a book about your experiences in France?
No, not really. I am not a writer, I am a verbal storyteller. There are plenty of things I would love to share, but writing them down seems to be one of the last things I think if I were a writer I would be writing instead of talking. If you know me you do not have ears, because I have talked them off. My mother says I am a hoarder and talk too much, she loves me and knows me well. Honestly, writing a book takes discipline and far better grammar than I have.
Was your husband a student when you met him at a dance in the U.S.?
Yann had completed his studies and decided to travel for a year, as he could not have a visa for a year to go to Australia he decided to go to the USA where he could have a visa. I am his big souvenir.
Are you a shoe lover? Is so what is your favorite pair?
No not in the sense of the word. I would rather go to the brocante than shop for anything else. I would rather buy something old, falling apart, rusty, torn, broken, faded, stapled, hanging together on a thread than buy shoes.
I use to only to wears heels until my feet screamed OUCH. Now I wear whatever is comfortable and they kind of look like the mismatched shoes above.
What is your favorite flower-oh and one more your favorite season?
My favorite flower, violets, calla lilies, old fashion scented roses, lily of the valley almost any flower is a favorite. I love scented flowers. My favorite season Spring and Autumn for the colors and because it is not too hot, not too cold. In France, I love May, June, September, October best. And February in Cassis.
What did you decide to do about your hair color and length?
I am stuck, like a broken record. Every three weeks when my white roots start to appear like a skunk line I think I should let my hair grow out white. Then I freak out thinking what if I look eighty years old as if that is the end of the world and chicken out and dye my hair. But I have been following this hairstylist on Instagram, Jack Martin a genius in hair coloring he makes the hair coloring transition seamless well seamless is a ten hour plus process and I am guessing $$$$. I am tempted to ask him to do mine
Do you expect to babysit A LOT this year? How long is French Maternity Leave?
I hope so. I will do whatever I can to help, my family in France is small and it is the most important part of my life. So if I am needed I will do my best to help. Chelsea will have a long maternity leave as she will take all her work vacation, eight weeks, plus her maternity leave the baby is due in June. Chelsea will be off work from May until January.
I plan to go to Paris as often as I can.
"Maternity leave in France and paternity leave in France. It is mandatory to take at least eight weeks'maternity leave in France, although women are allowed up to 16 weeks of maternity leave in France(congé maternité), usually six weeks prior to the expected date of delivery and 10 weeks after."
What do you do for just you, for rest?
I walk. Fortunately, I live in the countryside, at the base of Saint Baume, where there are miles of trails. I love to walk. Or watch a movie.
Can the tiny house and the house next door to you be rented?
Yes, both the Tiny House and the House Next Door can be rented. Just let me know by email and I will send you the details. Both can be rented 500 Euros a week or 1300 Euros for the month.
Where is your favorite flea market?
My favorite brocantes: Porte Vanves in Paris on Saturday mornings, Beausset in the Var on Easter Monday, the International Fairs for Professionals in Avignon, Beziers, Lyon, & Montpellier, Sommiers, Villeneuve les Avignon on Saturday morning, Carpentras, St Tropez, and Florence,
Thank you for all the questions, I will answer more of them tomorrow.
26 March 2019
Do You Have Any Questions for Me
It has been nearly 14 years that I have been blogging, sometimes with gusto, sometimes with a peek, usually with a photo.
Do you have any questions for me?
I will answer them in tomorrow's post.
25 March 2019
Faded Tulip Romance
I love when tulips end like this.
Reminds me that every stage is beautiful, has something to offer.
24 March 2019
The Work Day: Preparing the Nest
Chelsea and Martin (who live and work in Paris) came "home" for a long weekend. Their first stop was a local second-hand store where they bought a few pieces for the new apartment. Nothing puts a fire under one to get a move on like an upcoming baby. Nesting is a real thing, and it was in full gear this weekend.
Luckily we live fifteen minutes or so from Martin's parents, so it tumbled into place, each us of picking up a task to cleaning up the pieces Chelsea and Martin bought, a work day and shared lunch together.
Spring was in full glorious force!
If the pool was warmer I would have jumped in.
This little cupboard needed more than its share of TLC, Martin's mom removed the dark brown color, plus the doors were wobbly.
A laborious job.
This is not the finished product.
Brown stained furniture takes time to strip.
Donna's daughter Katie who I have seen grow up online on her mother's blog came to France and will be in Europe of two months. Katie arrived today, so she was thrown into preparing the nest work day. She fit right in. Katie will spend a few days with us.
Chelsea is work mode.
Wearing work clothes, or I should say clothes she didn't mind getting paint on,
also, adorn flip flops, a mask, and a six-month baby bump.
Martin's family has a workspace that has ever tool and thing needed.
It was a dream spot with everything in place and nothing missing.
Alette made this delicious Paella for lunch.
Bought a demi lune that opens up to a large dining table. We painted it.
The guy who hates being a handyman was a brief handy man today.
A small glass cabinet, we painted the inside and outside.
Mo from Reve d'Argiles pottery will go inside.
Now to get it all to Paris and in one place.
Violets the Bravest Flower
Violets.
The bravest little flower
dares to bloom before spring announces itself
Receives a white winter coat and a heavy tiara of raindrop diamonds,
Blooming purple with a note of glee.
Here I am, such a tender little flower reminding me of faithfulness against the odds, courage with grace.
What is your favorite flower?
23 March 2019
Scrap Jars Just Another Way of Saying Scrapbook
The little things I have collected that have no real value on their own, due to a chip, crack or a tear instead of throwing the defaulted bits and pieces away, or disregarding them to a chest of drawers never to be seen again instead I have collected these fragments in apothecary jars. Creating, "scrapbooks or "scrap jars".
No need to turn the page to see what is next in the scrapbook instead all I need to do is turn the jars around.
Do you have scrapbooks? Of junk drawers as my mother calls them?
22 March 2019
Are Sandals Worn in the Louvre
Heavenly soles at the Louvre.
After all these years of living in France, the Louvre never ceases to amaze me. If I lived in the Louvre I would feel the same way it is a feast for the eyes.
Whenever I go to the Lourve I like to focus on one thing and take photos of just that one thing for example;
One time I took photos of frames,
another time signatures,
yet another time people taking photos of the Mona Lisa.
This time I took photos of feet in sandals: Heavenly Soles.
You might say I am what you call a self-entertained person.
Easy to please.
Happy wherever I am.
Well, most of the time that is.
Is your closet stuffed with shoes?
Are you a shoe horse kind of person?
My Husband could wear the same pair of shoes every day for the rest of his life. Matter of fact he could be happy in jeans, a sweatshirt, or tee-shirt and his faithful dogs as I call them, brown shoes, for eternity.
It would have been rather smart of me to note the artists of these paintings, the period, and the theme-- or at least what room in the Louvre these snippets of paintings were from.
But no.
All I can say is that they are in the Louvre. I could there are plenty of sandaled feet in the Louvre.
But I can tell you this,
It is not every day you see a painting of a baby on the floor happily admiring a heavenly sole or a sandal.
There is nothing new under the sun.
Or is there?
Everything is new at least once.
And in the end...
You can take it with you.
At least this person did.
Red to boot, or sandals that is.
As they laced up their sandals to go for a run, they noticed something unusual, something hip, something that made them say,
"Why didn't I think of that?"
Such as blue suede shoes.
The dance of Spring, I feel it in the air.
The air in Provence has changed Spring is the scent.
It doesn't mean it won't be cold or that we will have blue skies here on out, but the air has shifted.
Buds form, the soil is waking up...
The next time I go to the Louvre maybe I'll focus on the ceiling.
The medallion above the crown, that appears upside down, has a woman dancing. She has sandals. well, let's just say she does because after zooming in on the ceiling to see if she had sandals, I realized so what if she doesn't.
I like to break my own rules.
Clever painting.
You have to be into the painting to imagine that sort of detail.
It isn't like there was a model, or that the painter took some photos, or had any more than his imagination to recall this sort of detail: Toes pointing down, heel up.
Brilliant way to show movement.
Brilliant masterpieces.
Mona Lisa,
The Winged Victory,
The Three Graces,
The Kiss of Eros and Psyche,
and Sandals, Heavenly Soles on the go.
21 March 2019
Everything has a Story to Tell
1800s Spode DemiTasse
Found at the Avignon International Fair over twenty years ago.
A setting for eight.
Plates, saucers, demitasses, teacups, creamer and sugar bowl to match.
While carrying them back to the cupboard I tripped.
Five demitasses danced to dust.
...
We hold people, places, things which in time became part of who we are. They tell us our story, hold our memories, feelings, they gather our history as we love and live with them. They become intertwined with our lives: Connected like dot to dot to one person thing or another, helping us recall who we are, where we have been and what we have learned. Little things, big moments, pat on the back emotion, one drop after another while filling our souls with defining moments that remind us:
This is who you are.
When the demitasses hit the floor I remembered a moment in time when my boyfriend John died.
I was carrying a large salad bowl that someone had brought over for the funeral, I tripped and it shattered to the ground. As I stooped down to pick up the broken pieces it spoke symbolically to me of my time with John, Some pieces I could pick up and hold knowing they would always be a part of me, some pieces the ones with sharp edges I was careful to pick up the fear of being cut reminded me of his sudden death and the pain and sorrow, some pieces had no form no recognizable connection except that they were part of the bowl. I thought of those as parts of John I had yet to discover and would only hear about and hold true. And then there were the pieces shattered into shards, that became dust or maybe shining stars leading into tomorrow, pieces of a future I did not know yet knew he would not be there with me.
We let go, we hold on, we become who we are over time.
Gather what you love and hold it within.
Everything has a story to tell.
x
Some pieces are remembered, others drift away and there are shards that cannot be seen yet somehow without our knowledge they light the way.
20 March 2019
Friendships Through Blogging
Singing the song of my memories,
it is a beautiful gift to have.
Petal after petal
Sharing memories especially with those who need to hear how their lives have touched mine.
Thank you for reading my blog, for your ever generous response, for the many gifts you have given me by your words, friendship, prayer, and good thoughts. I am lucky to know you, and my life is fuller because of it.
19 March 2019
Semi-Marathon in Paris
A little over a week ago Yann ran a semi-marathon in Paris, he will run the marathon in Paris on April 14th. He started training in January with Chelsea as his coach. They are a good team those two. Yann is an obedient student who would never disappoint his daughter and Chelsea is a strong, constant, encouraging coach. The goal was to run the semi-marathon in two hours, Yann did it in two hours and forty-three seconds.
During the first two kilometers, he wore his bright bogger green jacket as he calls it, then handed it off to Chelsea who was waiting and cheering him on at the 2KM point.
This marathon craze started when Chelsea ran it last year. Due to Chelsea being pregnant (her goal for this year) she is not running. But they are hoping to run a semi-marathon sometime next year. But that depends on the baby, doesn't it?
For the record, Sacha and Martin do not run due to knee injuries. As for me, cheerleading is a sport I enjoy.
18 March 2019
Coco Chanel Challenge
Coco Chanel and the Baby Who Pooped
Chelsea was six weeks old when French Husband came home with a pair of tickets for a Chanel fashion show. A friend from work had given him the tickets since he couldn't go.
Coco Channel photo source Chanel.
My excitement was instantly tamed when French Husband announced that the show was the next day. "What am I going to wear?" were my first words. My closet did not hold anything labeled Chanel, let alone Casual Chic. To top it off I was breastfeeding. For those of you who have breastfed you know what that means, especially in those first weeks after birth. Not only did I have a pair of shooting guns, but my breasts were also the size of melons, while my non-maternity clothes were the size of gumdrops. What was a girl to do? My pocketbook was bare though my desire to attend the Chanel fashion show was bursting out of my seams.
The next morning while sitting on the edge of the bed breastfeeding I had an idea. I could wear a dress I had made of black wool jersey, it was a simple dress but I could wear it under a vintage charcoal wool dress coat that had a massive black velvet collar. Yes, it would serve the purpose.
French Husband went to work that morning, though we had a rendezvous in front of Chanel later in the day. I got ready, then fed Chelsea, dressed her, and was walking out of the door when I felt something warm running down my leg. Chelsea had a poop. A big poop at that. A mighty big poop that went through what she was wearing, onto my one dress, down my nylons, and into my shoe. Lovely, was not the thought I had instead, "Merde," silently passed in the back of my head, "Now what am I gonna wear?'
Imagine lightening. That was the speed in which I cleaned up that butterball baby Chelsea and myself. I made it on time.
Smelling good.
I wore freshly cleaned black heels and that coat for a dress.
17 March 2019
16 March 2019
Provence!
Ten reasons why to visit Provence, though do you really need any?
No need for words... let your eyes tell you why:
If you want to see or read more click on any of the ten numbers and it will take you to Provence.
PS If my Brother Marty is reading, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"
15 March 2019
Route de Crete Cassis
The Route de Crete laces along the edge of the cliff along the sea between Cassis and La Ciotat. The view is breathtaking, giving you the sense of flying,
as you wind along the tight turns with intense views of the sea far below.
Sheer.
Profound.
Far beyond and below.
The view below: Cassis.
Cap Canaille is 394 m (1,293 ft), it is the highest sea cliff of France. The rock face of Cap Canaille is called Falaises de Soubeyrannes. The rock consists of layers of ochre-colored sandstone, conglomerate, and limestone. When the sun sets it turns pink or orange depending on the weather. The name in Provençal is Cap Naio. It has been misunderstood in French and changed into Cap Canaille instead of "Cap Naille".
Another reason why I love Cassis.
14 March 2019
Scone Memories
A Throw Back to 2009... Since I am travelling to Ireland today I thought I would repost something 'Irish'... Scones!
School holidays are happening as I type. French Husband and Sacha went skiing. Chelsea came home with more books, binders, and notepads than laundry. She has finals and nothing else matters more than intense studies right now. My broken rib, lack of skiing skills, a daughter who needs a devoted mother to feed her, and my love of silence allowed me the avenue to stay home. I am happy the sun is shining.
I asked Chelsea what she would like to have for lunch, she replied, "Scones."
A flood of memories poured in with that one word... Scones. Don't you love food memories? Oh how they nourish the heart and soul, giving it food for thought without calories. The memory of scones does just that...and we are not even from Scone-Land. Scones, muffins, bagels and cupcakes are not a French thing. Instead Brioche, pain au chocolat, escargot, croissants and pain perdu take their place.
During the school holidays, when our children were little, I often made scones for them. More often than not, when we made scones something happened, interrupted us from our scone making-- or caused us to make them in a flash.
It got to the point that if we were going to make scones, we would expect something unexpected to happen. If nothing happened, we would doubt whether the scones would turn out.
From my cookbook the SCONE recipe says:
(1995-- School Holiday Scones)
"This morning we made scones for breakfast at lunchtime. While I was making them I was not focused on what I was doing due to the phone ringing, the postman coming to the door, and a friend came over telling us about how they found human ashes in a milk container. (I decided to use yogurt instead of milk for the scones.)
And guess what? The best, flaky, moist on the inside, crisp outer texture scones arrived out of the oven. I discovered the secret ingredient in making scones: Distraction."
Recipe from my friend who is Irish: Mary Kate (Allison's Sister).
Scone Recipe
A well-buttered baking sheet from the hand's of children
In a bowl (Sacha mixed the ingredients with his plastic sword turned into a spoon.)
- One cup and less than a third of flour,
- 1 teaspoon of sugar,
- a pinch of salt,
- 2 teaspoons of baking powder,
- Half a teaspoon of baking soda.
- Mix the above then add:
- Two tablespoons of cold butter, crumble lightly into the flour mixture.
- Add one egg (room temperature is best)
- and a small container of yogurt (about half of a cup). Fold until blended.
Dust the table with a little flour. Place the dough on it, gently knead and pat out into a circle. Cut the scones using an upside -down, juice glass. Makes 6 or 8 scones.
Preset oven to 375 and bake for 6 to 8 minutes. Turn off oven and let rest for a couple of minutes or so.
Serve with butter, strawberry jam, honey, orange marmalade and a bowl of cafe au lait (this is France after all.)
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13 March 2019
He Loves Me He Loves Me Not
How funny that out of thousands of things at a brocante fair a charm that size of my fingernail could grab my attention. This green daisy or Margurite in French has two parts, a cover that turns around a stationary part the has words written on each petal. The finely printed words I could not read when I bought it, but I took a chance that it would convey a sweet secret and I wasn't wrong.
On the petals are written, "I love you with all my heart."
It sure beats that game of plucking petals and saying, "(S)he loves me (s)he loves me not."
Origins: The Daisy Oracle (He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not)
Recited while plucking the petals from a flower (usually a daisy):
He loves me,
He loves me not.
He loves me,
He loves me not.
He loves me,
He loves me not…
The couplet is repeated until all of the petals are discarded; the line is spoken when the final petal is plucked divines the truer statement.
While the rhyme can be gendered in any direction our heterocentric, traditionalist media would have you believe the ritual is the preserve of lovelorn adolescent girls and their younger counterparts.
Flowers and their symbolic ties to human affections are deeply ingrained in our culture, spawning mythology and language of their own. Roses have long been associated with love, Daisies represent innocence, youth, and vitality, appropriate to the carefree folly of early love the rhyme invokes. The tradition of daisy-divination is noted in Goethe’s Faust part one of which was completed in 1806:
Faust: Sweet darling!
Margaret: Wait a bit![She plucks a star-flower and picks off the petals, one after the other.]
Faust: What’s that? A nosegay?
Margaret: No, it’s just a game.
Faust: What?
Margaret: You will laugh at me, do go![She pulls off the petals and murmurs.]
Faust: What are you murmuring?
Margaret [half aloud]: He loves me – loves me not!
Faust: Sweet, heavenly vision!
Margaret [goes on]: Loves me – not – loves me – not-[Plucking off the last petal with lovely joy.]
He loves me!
Faust: Yes, my child! and let this blossom’s word
Be oracle of gods to you! He loves you!
You understand that word and what it means? He loves you![He seizes both her hands.]
Malcolm Jones (in his book The Secret Middle Ages dates the first printing of the “The Daisy Oracle” 1471, when Augsburg nun and scribe Clara Hätzlerin included it in her Liederhandschrift (songbook), making this the oldest rhyme we’ve tackled so far. The rhyme is still sung in Germany (liebt mich, liebt mich nicht).
“The Daisy Oracle” is thought to be French in origin but all the evidence is anecdotal." via the Ouora.
"He loves me, he loves me not or She loves me, she loves me not (originally effeuiller la marguerite in French) is a game of French origin[citation needed], in which one person seeks to determine whether the object of their affection returns that affection.
A person playing the game alternately speaks the phrases "He (or she) loves me," and "He loves me not," while picking one petal off a flower (usually an oxeye daisy) for each phrase. The phrase they speak on picking off the last petal supposedly represents the truth between the object of their affection loving them or not. The player typically is motivated by attraction to the person they are speaking of while reciting the phrases. They may seek to reaffirm a pre-existing belief or act out of whimsy.
In the original French version of the game, the petals do not simply indicate whether the object of the player's affection loves them, but to what extent: un peu or "a little", beaucoup or "a lot", passionnément or "passionately", à la folie or "to madness", or pas du tout or "not at all." Via Wiki.