French la Vie

Chapters of Motherhood

 

 

 

Looking across the table Chelsea and Sacha sat talking to Yann. I thought,

"They are grown up, they are adults, they are no longer children."

For the first time, I saw my children as adults. It was an odd observation.

Just like that, they no longer looked like nor felt like children. I have heard it said that children are children and that a mother's role/love never changes. Yet at that moment I felt my role as mother shifting, I am the mother of adults and it is different, a different role but the same love. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My children are adults. How did that happen?

I am pleased that they are independent, strong, responsible, caring...

A new chapter begins, has begun, I just didn't realize what page I was on.

Chelsea talks about her pregnancy, upcoming baby and her career, and what she hopes for and wants, and whether that can work.

Sacha talks about his goals for his career, his life in Seattle, and a certain someone in Italy.

Love, life, and work. Those conversations are the beginning of what will be their tomorrows.

I love their thought process, their reflections, their longings, their becoming...

 

Babies, toddlers, children, teens, young adults...

 

The sounds that become words,

words jumbled together eventually creating a sentence

some with meaning, some explaining, some just blowing in the wind,

Most ask, "Why? Then How? Then Why Not? Further down the line, How are you?"

The stories one by one too many to remember, forming a book without even knowing it,

Until chapters 50, 60, 70... 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, those stages of motherhood and mothering,

as my friend Cheryl (she is a mother of four), calls it:

"My life's work".

Even now, after the empty nest,

after the payments of their educations,

after their wings take them far away

even now this chapter has something to say about motherhood.

How do I know it is true? Because I am my mother's daughter, her oldest child, and I appreciate her mothering, even at sixty.

 

 

 

 

 

The Matriarch.

Last Christmas my mother who has celebrated Christmas with her family every year except for the time she was with us in France when Chelsea was born. Told my brothers and sisters-in-love that instead of Christmas at her home where she does the preparing, cooking, serving and entertaining, they were going to have a Progressive Christmas. They would start at one brother/sister-in-love's house for hors-d'oeuvres, then go to the next home for salad, and so on and so forth until they arrived at her home for dessert. My mom said that way everyone could see everyone's Christmas decorations, and the progressive dinner was to be simple, nothing complicated it was about being together not about working or stressing hard over how to do it.

Everyone enjoyed the Progressive Christmas. They are planning to do it for Easter.

Just like that my mother turned a page and started a new chapter, which I read as:

How to Have Christmas as a Family When I am No Longer able to Do it.

That is mothering, teaching us her children by example.

Loving us from infancy to adulthood and if we are lucky enough old age.

 

How French Women Don't Get Fat According to a Song

 

 

While having dinner with our friends from the States I asked French Husband to put some music on

so he connected his favorite channel and Charlie Brown's theme song came on.

Giggling I said, "Oh that is a Snoopy's song!"

French Husband gave me a puzzling look as he read the name of the song on his cell phone, "No it says:

"Cast Your Fate to the Wind"

But instead of saying "fate" he pronounced it "Fat".

"Cast your Fat to the Wind".

 

And just like that, I knew I had the answer to the question many seem to ask:

"Why French Women Don't Get Fat?"

Take it from Charlie Brown's theme song pronounced by a Frenchman, "They cast their fat to the wind."

And here I always thought it had to do with cigarettes, black coffee and steak tartare.

Teasing aside, especially to French Husband's pronunciation of Fate to Fat, 

Weight doesn't matter as much as happiness and casting your fate to the wind doesn't work.

 

Side note: Thanks for the correction Katie.

 

Sacha's Italian Friend Elena

 

If you were to meet a young artist,

a portrait painter who lived in Verona, Italy, and if you were into filming...

*Elenacarta on instagram

 

Happily Stuffed Piglets

 

 

 

Chelsea and Sacha during lunch.

Sacha bought a beret at Maison d'Emperuer to take back to Seattle, he said,

"I am French so I should show it."

 

 

 

 

Chelsea waiting for Martin to join us at lunch.

The Moroccan restaurant where we were to have lunch,

was kind enough to stay open to serve us

as the train Martin and Fabrice were on was delayed for over an hour due to a flood on the tracks.

 

 

And as if the lunch wasn't big enough, Sacha wanted a Raclette dinner.

We had a couple of tons of potatoes, stacks of various cheese mostly Raclette

Peppercorns, pickles, capers, garlic, red peppers, mushrooms, olives, broccoli, eventually salad and then to top off the pounds Sacha wanted the classic gateaux des Rois with frangipane, and Martin Chocolate Mousse.

I did not want to be but I am a stuffed piglet.

They said they wanted pancakes for breakfast but this morning everyone could barely move.

 

Trying to Pretend They are a Rembrandt Painting

 

Sacha, his childhood friend and like a son Fabrice, his girlfriend Emily, Chelsea and Martin.

With Yann as the photo painter

trying to be a Rembrandt painting.

 

 

 

Feeling the Earth Move Under my Feet

 

 

The moment the four of us gathered (Martin comes tomorrow and the baby in June) it was as if not a second had passed, everything seemed familiar, in place, natural and good. We talked way past breakfast and onto dinner. Later Yann and Sacha stayed by Chelsea's side to feel the baby move for the first time. Oh, the comfort of loving one another. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I feel the earth move under my feet

I feel the sky tumbling down

I feel my heart start to trembling

Whenever you're around

 

 

Ooh, baby, when I see your face

Mellow as the month of May

 

Oh, darling, I can't stand it

When you look at me that way

 

 

 

I feel the earth move under my feet

I feel the sky tumbling down

 

I feel my heart start to trembling

Whenever you're around

 

 

 

Ooo, darling, when you're near me

And you tenderly call my name

 

I know that my emotions

 

Are something I just can't tame

 

I've just got to have you, baby, uh huh huh uh huh huh yeah."

 

Carole King

 

 

Pre- Reunion

 

Preparing for the arrival of the three I love:

Cook favorite foods- Check.

Put fresh sheets on the bed- Check.

Turn up the heat- Check.

Flowers- Check.

Make sure everything is just so...

At that point, an idea came to mind, "Why not move

the armchair in the house-next-door to Sacha's old bedroom,

and put the armchair that is utterly impossible to sit

on in my bedroom as a decorative monster. 

And so I did but not without whacking my back out.

Lovely.

 

 

 

 

 

The two armchairs are in place.

Favorite foods- Check.

Fresh sheets on the bed- Check.

Turned up the heat- Check.

Flowers- Check.

Make sure everything is just so... Went to the osteopath

which brought enough relief to not ruin the day.

Reunion anticipation! 

 

My Addiction Starts with a B

 

I am in full baby mode now that Chelsea is four months pregnant.

My train was an hour wait. Instead of reading, or having lunch I found myself walking towards the baby boutique

to indulge in the inevitable

baby clothes.

Oh my it could be worse than my addiction to the brocante.

I for one never thought that could happen but here I am in full baby mode, little clothes are really sweet! February seventh Chelsea and Martin

will find out the gender. Certainly, that will open the closet to a fuller wardrobe. 

My mom use to say when buying clothes for a baby, "Sets of three, one in the drawer, one in the laundry and one on the baby."

Three p-jammies

Three onesies 

Three bottoms...

Yann's mother gave me the baby clothes she had made for when her babies were born, but ten-pound-Chelsea went straight into six-month-old clothing, she barely had anything as most her clothing was sized for three months old.

I promise I won't talk baby talk every day on my blog. Maybe once a week?

 

Provence. Paris. Poland. Italy

 

The morning sun could not penetrate the coldness that was left behind from the hours of darkness, this morning it was 26 Fahrenheit. 

It has been colder.

In Paris, a blanket of white greeted Yann who had a meeting there.

Though he missed Chelsea as she flew to Poland for her work, I am sure it was colder than Paris.

Sacha is in Italy, his heart is warm so nothing else matters.

What is the weather like in your part of the world?

The Cassis Home Renovation: The Stairwell

 

 

The Cassis Home is in a building from the 1900s in the center of Cassis, but the stone walls date further back, possibly the building was two dwellings that merged into one. Part of the interesting discoveries made when renovating an old place comes from underneath the layers of previous renovations. Point in question is when we started to renovate the stairwell.

The two upper staircases, the top staircase leads to a terrace with a panoramic view of Cassis and the second staircase leads to the kitchen/living room with a balcony facing the castle, were created possibly in the 1980s or thereof, but the third staircase that is not shown in the photos here, is much older and we will completely renovate it. Refurbishing the stairs meant having the tiles taken off the tread, then adding an iron return nosing (which is the tread to the inner and outer string above the riser) which will add a contemporary definition. Joel the ironsmith who created our stairwell in Cassis and his employee Guillaume are the masterminds behind the intense amount of work of rebuilding the steps. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thread riser blocks and wedges are put into place to keep the thread in place.

My vocabulary is expanding with stair terminology, though the French translation of those words is slow going, I point often or charade. Fortunately, the team I have worked with so we get one another, trust one another and I know they know their job.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The handrail was a massive three pipe thing that was horrendous, Joel removed it (no need to go to the gym when you have to carry solid iron down four flights of stairs). Joel created something lighter with a movement for the handrail. The main goal was not to have the handrail be the focus or draw attention as the lights above (not pictured because there is too much work to be done before they are installed) will be the focal point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When cutting into the stone wall to secure the handrail we discovered a century-old window with a stone encased frame. Unfortunately, we cannot keep the opening, as it would take far too long to have it approved, and most likely it would not be approved. That is one of the examples of the surprises one finds in renovating old places. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here you can see three parts of the four sets of stairs in the Cassis home.

The bottom steps will be completed renovated.

As you can see it has a way to go before it is done.

 

 

 

 

The next step will be filling in the threads and risers. We are going to use polished cement and not use tiles nor wood. Do you think I should keep this color palette or go for a darker color on the risers and or threads? I am leaning on a neutral palette as that is what I believe Ching and Gary would like. 

 

 

 

The Unknown Road Ahead

 

Late in the afternoon, I said goodbye to Chelsea to catch the TGV back to Provence. As the train traveled through the countryside with the scenery flashing by accentuated with the setting sun my memories of Chelsea as a baby came to mind. Sweet Chelsea. My first born. My ten-pound baby. My little girl now becoming a mother. Time is going by bringing different scenery and another stage to play upon.

Life is mysteriously wonderful, as someone said regarding being a parent, "Days go by slowly as years go by quickly."

I felt Chelsea's baby move, felt it move, that little life inside becoming.

It is beyond measure this feeling of love for someone who is yet to be but is someone whos cells were in me, and in my parents, and in their parents...

 

 

 

 

 

From the train window, I took this photo without realizing there was a dirt road. So much to look forward in the unknown.

Life may it be graceful as it leads us.

 

 

 

The Baby Bump

The Baby Bump.

Chelsea is four months along. Nearly at the halfway mark.  

She never has felt sick, a bit sleepy, but other than that she feels good.

Next month they will know the gender.

The baby is due around June 15th.

Of course, I am going to have a guessing game later on.

Chelsea dreamed that she was having a boy, four dreams to be exact, and once the baby had a beard.

Chelsea felt the baby move and so did I. Oh the joy of life.

 

Covering France from Head to Toe with Antique Quilts

 

If I took every quilt I have ever seen from the French brocantes and laid them out 

they would cover France from head to toe. Can you imagine how beautiful that would look

from up above? The women and maybe a few men who over the hundreds of years have created 

a national treasure with their handiwork, stitches, their creative force, choice of color and pattern.

Needless to say, if I laid out the monogrammed laced sheets, pillowcases and why not throw in the dishtowels

the entire planet would be covered. You might think I am exaggerating but I am not if I had said universe that would be

stretching the truth but not by much.

 

 

 

On any given weekend you can find quilts at any brocante in France.

A ton of them.

The hardest part is which one to buy and which one to pass up. 

The selection is vast if you are not looking for a king size quilt that is.

The most common color is red and blue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of my greatest pleasures at the brocantes is talking to the dealers about their wares it is like walking back in time to living history. Each item leads to another chapter of the story that weaves France together. Quilts, fabric, pattern, stitch, needle, pin, thimble, bed, sheet, who slept there, their home country, city, rich-poor... it is all there by the quality of the piece.

 

 

 

The older pieces are hand dyed or stamped.

Sometimes under a 1950s quilt, you can find an older quilt from the 1900s, and more often than not there is an older quilt underneath that.

When a quilt was worn, or thread barren, or even outdated, the quilter would cover the quilt with a newer piece of fabric or patch it.

I remember early on at the brocantes, maybe fifteen years ago or so, I saw my friend Odile carrying a thick 1960s quilt which wasn't her taste at all. I asked her if she had forgotten her glasses. She laughed then pointed to a tear in the fabric, underneath it I saw layers of fabric. Odile said, "You have to look beyond the cover, history is covered with time."

 

 

 

 

 

In quilting circles, one was measured by how many even stitches they could do per inch.

I have counted up to twenty-one. The tedious detailing makes a difference for endurance and beauty.

 

• Average – 6 stitches per inch
• Accomplished – 8 stitches per inch
• Expert – 10 stitches per inch
• Professional – 12 -14 stitches per inch

Remember that 8 to 10 very even stitches per inch is considered superior to 12 to 14 uneven stitches per inch. 

 

 

 

 

These are two pieces that Odlie recently uncovered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you would like to read more follow the link below:

Quilts of Provence

 

 

 

 

 

"...There are two kinds of antique quilts from Provence and neither is like American antique quilts, which are pieced together from scraps. The Provence quilts tend to be made of two large pieces of whole cloth, either cotton or silk, that are sewn together with some kind of filling element, like batting or cording, sandwiched between them.

''These quilts are intensely quilted and the quilting shows up because the background is often a neutral or solid color,'' said Laura Fisher. Ms. Fisher specializes in American quilts, "There was a strong needlework tradition in Provence,'' Ms. Fisher said. ''It's like a three-dimensional sculpture in thread. Quilting goes back to prehistory. In medieval times quilted cloth was used as insulation in winter garments as well as armor, to protect its wearer from arrows."

''What distinguished the work of Provencal needle women was their vision of the decorative possibilities inherent in these lines of stitching,'' Ms. Berenson writes in her book. ''They developed the ability to realize complex, minutely detailed patterns in beautiful, well-proportioned motifs merely through the play of light and shadow on the surface of a textile.'' Today, these quilts are often called ''boutis.''

 

 

 

 

"In the 18th and 19th centuries, Provencal women hand-stitched their quilted bed covers with motifs inspired by the bounty of the region: sunflowers, pomegranates, lavender, artichokes, and olives in patterns that completely fill the ground of the quilt.

''The French started printing imported cotton in about 1640,'' Ms. Berensen said. ''By 1680's, the Marseilles women were producing 40,000 to 50,000 quilts a year for export to Germany, England, Italy, and Spain.''

She said that the Marseilles community was so proud of the women's workmanship that it gave the quilts as gifts to royalty and as tokens of appreciation. The French called these quilts ''confections'' or ''broderies de Marseille'' and refer to the stitching as ''embroidery from within.''

They should not be confused with pieces woven on machine-driven looms to obtain a textured character.

The more common bouti is a quilt made from gaily colored printed cottons that are stitched in tight rows or diamond patterns. In the early 17th century, the cottons were imported from India and nicknamed ''Indiennes.'' They were hand-printed with colorful flowers, mythic animals, exotic locales and scenes.

Louis XIV did not want the French to import luxury goods and drain the country's coffers, so he banned the importation of Indiennes. But he instructed his minister Jean-Baptiste Colbert to import the best artisans and dyers to establish textile businesses in France.

''They produced French tapestries, laces, cottons, wools, and upholstery,'' said Ms. Berenson, who is writing a book on Colbert. ''Cardinal Mazarin is known to have had dozens of French quilted bed covers.'' Via The New York Times, Fine Quilts of Provence 2000.

 

Antique French Textiles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naturally dyed 1700s fabric.

 

"Natural dyes are dyes or colorants derived from plants, invertebrates, or minerals. The majority of natural dyes are vegetable dyes from plant sources—roots, berries, bark, leaves, and wood—and other biological sources such as fungi and lichens."

 

For more information how to make and use natural dyes follow this link by clicking on it.

 

 

In the above piece you can see the layers of textiles underneath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hand stamped and dyed piece, one of the oldest pieces in this selection of photos.

 

 

 

 

Becoming French

(Photo French Flag found on Pinterest no link was available)

 

I did it!

 

Nearly, eighteen months ago I applied for my French citizenship.

Yesterday, in Nice, I had an interview with the immigration authorities. I was anxious that I might not answer something correctly and be told I wasn't accepted. To be safe I read everything I could online and went over hundreds of questions that they could ask me. Questions such as: "Why I wanted French citizenship? Name five French philosophers? What is laïcité? What happened in Verdun? Name the last five Prime Ministers? What are some of the latest laws that have taken place in France?" The questions that they could have asked have to do with an applicants personal life, French culture, history, and government, and of course, the questions are asked in French and need to be answered in French. 

 The hardest part was thinking I might have to sing the French national anthem the Marseillaise. I could barely sing the Star Spangled Banner, barely keep a tune, let alone in French. I memorized the first line, and the first line of the chorus and could hum it. WhooHoo! And I could explain what the song is about. But sing it by heart, unfortunately, no.

Back in October when Yann went to India I had an unexpected visit by two National Gendarmerie. They came by early in the morning my friend Mo's husband was there because he had brought me some eggs. Though the two National Gendarmes didn't see it that way. They thought because it was early in the morning that Mo's husband was Yann. When I explained that Mo's husband was just a friend and that Yann was in India on a motorcycle trip they did not believe me, leading them to question whether he was my lover. After forty-five minutes of being questioned to prove that I was who I said I was, that Yann was my husband, that we live together and were part of our community they knew I was telling the truth. I am sure you have heard stories where they ask you what color is your partner's toothbrush... well I prayed they didn't ask me that because I did not know. It was intense questioning and luckily honesty was simply all I had to offer. Even if it was confusing, 

"What hobbies do you enjoy?" 

"Brocanting, cooking..."

"Why are you not in India with your husband?"

"Because he is on a ride where being two would be too difficult due to the type rough terrain ride he is on."

"Do you have children?"

"Yes, two."

"What sports do you and your husband do together?"

"Not many! He is crazy and I like safe sports like walking."

"Crazy?"

"Well no not crazy but crazy."

"Where does your daughter live?"

"In Paris."

"Do you like to fly with your husband?"

"Oh you know he flies? No, I don't like to fly with him."

"Why no?"

"Because it scares me."

It was at this point I began to worry that they would think that Yann and I were not a couple.

____

It has been an interesting journey seeking dual citizenship. But at last, I can say I did it!

After more than half my life lived in France I can say when a French person asks me,

"Where are you from?" I can answer proudly,

"I am Franco-American with an enormous accent."

The next step is waiting to receive my citizenship which could be ten months or more.

 

 

 

 

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An Encouraging Note From My Niece

Guess what I got?

 

What I Found at the Brocante

 

Usually, after going around a brocante several tours I start to look at smalls. They never disappoint with their purpose, meaning and evident stories worn proudly for everyone to see. Honor medals are easy to find, usually given by an organization, the city or country. This one with a young girl playing music to a dear was from the 1950s. The round glass frame, is easy to find as well usually they have photos of loved ones, this one had one on both sides. Sometimes there are messages inside, or locks of hair, or a patch of fabric like a modern-day relic.

 

 

 

Boxes and boxes of pharmacy jars with potions still inside. Perfect for a movie set of Frankenstein.

 

 

 

 

Mourning lace. History has it that when someone you loved or cared for died you had to wear black for a year, but you did not have to be drab. So black lace and detailing such as above are another easy find. Mourning jewelry also is in black.

Remember Scarlett O'Hara?

When she dances with Rhett when she was supposed to be mourning.

 

 

 

 

Feves or cake charms that are baked inside of the Gateau des Rois for the feast of Epiphany which is the twelfth day after Christmas. The newer feves are not so sweet looking, the cake is a tradition in France served the entire month and only in January.

 

 

 

 

 

Metal buttons depicting animals for hunting clothing usually jackets and sweaters.

Harder to find.

For that reason I bought them.

Do you need buttons? 

 

 

 

Textiles such as printed cotton, linens and silks are harder and harder to find especially larger pieces. Last weekend a car pulled up with a trunk full. I did not buy any as I am never sure what people want and I do not "make" things as those who buy textiles do. Red is the dominant color, then blue when it comes to 1800s-1900s textiles.

 

 

 

Doll shoes, that French Husband mistook for baby shoes. Small feet indeed.

They were 50 Euros and came in the original box with several pairs of mismatched socks.

 

 

 

An extraordinary classroom chart of owls. This is just a small part of it. A man was on it trying to have a better price. I knew the dealer and knew he wasn't going to lower the price with a crowd standing around gawking at it. So I caught his eye and raised my eyebrow which transmitted, I want it if that man doesn't buy it. I learned that trick from Mike S. the first persons I had the honor to follow and learn about buying antiques. That was twenty five years ago. He was and is the best I still hear and follow his advice in my head while at any brocante. 

 

 

 

 

Classic blue glass medals, harder to find are any other color. Mainly for the 1900s they are Miraculous Medals.

"The Miraculous Medal, also known as the Medal of Our Lady of Graces, is a medal, the design of which was originated by Saint Catherine Labouré following her apparitions of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Rue du Bac, Paris."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was going around looking at smalls the carload of textiles were spread out on the ground, stacks of quilts too.

I did not buy any. I prefer altar silks which are not at all easy to find, especially at a price I want to pay. That is one of the things about antiquing as often as I do, the antiques I favor have to be at a reasonable or below market price for me to want to buy it, otherwise, I would have no control buy everything. Part of the hunt is a good price or an exceptional piece. When such a rare piece or an antique that grabs my heartstrings that is a different story. But even that has to be something considering how much I see on any given week. 

What did I buy? Books, paper, maps, 

 

 

This large, heavy, what am I going to do with it wonder of a piece.

Terra cotta corniche.

 

 

 

 

Baby Boy Buggy Dreams

 

Chelsea is four months pregnant. Not showing just thick around the waist. Chelsea feels great and has not been ill a single day, lucky Pup.

They hope to find out the sex of the baby next month. Shortly after she was pregnant, and when I say shortly after, I mean probably the day she was pregnant though they did not know that they were and certainly I did not know that, I had a dream that she had a boy. I called her and asked if she was pregnant and she laughed, "No, I don' t think so."

I dreamed she had a boy so I think it is a boy.

What do you think? It is a 50/50 chance one way or another.

 

 

 

At the brocante last weekend we saw this 1700s baby stroller or the Cadillac of strollers. which was nearly the size of a minibus. The baby buggy had wooden wheels. I wanted to roll it straight to my house, if for nothing else than for a photo shoot, can you imagine a plumb baby surrounded with pillows and lace. Sigh. French Husband said, "If we had a castle with a park surrounding it I could see it..."  Quickly I added, "I will take the castle and park and baby buggy and baby!" Then he started to look at it and saw how beautiful and rare it was. So I had to remind him, "Where would we put it literally?"

When Chelsea was about three years old and Sacha was a six months old Butterball we were walking to the park, I was pushing Sacha is a stroller. Along the way Sacha started to whine, Chelsea from the moment Sacha was born literally thought and acted as if she were the mother said to me,

"Sacha wants to "allonger"."

You see when children grow up bilingual at first they repeat whatever words they hear, after a while, they say whatever words they know so they usually mix the words up using both in one sentence, in Chelsea's case English and French words. Then in a short time, they know that these words are French and these words are English and never mix the two instead they will say, "I want to say "..." in French or vice-versa if they do not have the word in their repertoire." 

Hence, when Chelsea said, "Sacha wants to allonger." I did not have a clue what allonger meant and asked her to explain it to me and she did by a combination of charades and touching the leverage that made the stroller turn into a bed for Sacha to lay down. Allonger means to lay down. Happy Butterball, Happy Child and a new word in my vocabulary.

 

 

Note the little brass oval window in back to see the baby.

Honestly, I do not think I could have pushed it out of our front door let alone put it in our car.

 

One Thousand and One Nights

 

At the brocante where objects have a way of finding me an early 18OOs collection of, One Thousand and One Nights,' seduced me by the royal blue book-jackets with gilded lettering. Gently opening them perfectly intact engravings, and words that evoke mystery.

"Prince of True Believers, what-so thou want-est, Hundred golden pieces, exceeding wonder, pomegranate grains, magnetic mountain, wend the way, young man burst, cast thy net, honey fritters, kissed the earth, ebony horse, shaved beard, Palace of Marvels, bade decorate, My Queen of the night..."

"Shahryār is shocked to learn that his brother's wife is unfaithful; discovering that his own wife's infidelity has been even more flagrant and he has her killed. In his bitterness and grief, he decides that all women are the same. Shahryār begins to marry a succession of virgins only to execute each one the next morning before she has a chance to dishonor him. Eventually, the vizier whose duty it is to provide them, cannot find any more virgins. The vizier's daughter offers herself as the next bride and her father reluctantly agrees. On the night of their marriage, Scheherazade begins to tell the king a tale but does not end it. The king, curious about how the story ends, is thus forced to postpone her execution in order to hear the conclusion. The next night, as soon as she finishes the tale, she begins another one, and the king, eager to hear the conclusion of that tale as well, postpones her execution once again. This goes on for one thousand and one nights, hence the name."

 

 

Cassis Home Renovation Project

 

 

If I did not have such a great team to work with I would never agree to step in and project manage such an undertaken of Cassis Home. Plus if Ching and Gary were not good friends of mine and if they weren't one hundred percent behind every decision I make I would never be doing this. But since the "Team" is behind me and creativity is free rein this is one of the best projects, that am lucky and happy to be part of it. 

What I mean is that this apartment was good enough, it was livable but Ching and Gary wanted something more, something unique, something that honored its bones. Simple, Avant-Garde, Modern with only a slight hint of whimsy. They wanted space, not the tight fit that it was, and they wanted all the beautiful light of Cassis to pour in. If the Team wasn't behind me I would be frustrated not to be able to bring to life what I visualize for this space.

We are going to have a cement-like finish, that Rene and I created to put on through the entire apartment. We are also going to add it to the stairs three levels of them. The bottom part of the stairs is original to the apartment which is over a hundred-year-old. They are not made like the upper two levels which were made in the 1980s and are solid cement. The bottom level stairs (not shown) will take more work I will explain that when we are working on them. For now, I had the team take out the decorative solid iron bars on the stairs. Of course, we had an engineer-architect come over and check out to see if it were possible. Once we got the green light I had them take them out and reinforce the corners with thicker iron tube plus we added an I-beam to the corner. I had the team leave the old I-beams exposed to give it a loft feel.

 

 

 

Facts:

Dust. Dirt. Debris. Stairs plenty of them.

Rene is a genius. Honest and incredibly hardworking. 

Patience.

Discovery at every corner, that is the thrilling part working within old walls.

Friends who appreciate my creativity and let me spell it out, erase it, reroute, bam nail it.

Exchange with confidence.

These last few days I am seeing Cassis Home come alive, breathing, it is as if my thoughts are being made whole, playing out on life's stage.

 

 

 

 

We removed the decorative iron bars then replaced the two end ones with a thicker heavy iron bar that they drilled into the stone wall.

An I-beam and those two iron bars are the main support for the two floors overhead.

 

Every time I say I-beam I think of Yann, as we met at the I-beam in San Francisco nearly 32 years ago dancing to hits such as Higher Love, 

Your Wildest Dreams, West End Girls, White Wedding, Kiss, Addicted to Love, Don't Leave Me This Way...

Those songs rock on to a different beat to the sound of hammering, chiseling, scrapping...

 

 

 

 

The pipes were pierced and fixed into the stone supportive wall.

 

 

 

Next, the tiles had to be chiseled off so that we can layer them with cement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rene chiseled off all the new tile, and sweep afterward. Our shoes are constantly dusty!

The steps will have a cement-like top with an iron band across the top.

 

 

 

This is the prototype railing It is like a ribbon

 

 

Paying Attention to the Little Things that Speak Loudly

                           

 

The small details of how we live our lives measure large.

Isn't it true that we can have a feeling about a person in how they shake your hand or look into your eye?

Wouldn't you agree that generosity of spirit can be seen in how someone smiles?

I want not to count the cost but being the cost, to give because it is the loving way.

Not measured and calculating.

                           It is in such details that speak of who we are.

Live life large by living fully the day to day moments that lead us onward.

Little details speak the answers.

 

The Language of Love

 

Recently, I found several French postcards in souvenir booklet from the 1900s. What caught my eye was that the cards were in series, extra charming, depicting the language of love in unusual ways such as the language of love in stamps. Depending on how one would stamp an envelope for example if the stamp was upside down it meant, "Believe in me" if the stamp was sideways it meant I like you.

 

 

 

 

If a stamp was put on like an upside down diamond it meant, "I am dying for your love".

 

 

 

 

 

 

I remember a conversation I had with Annie, where I was telling her about a friend who thought she had found love, then realized that the man she claimed to love wasn't perfect, and she couldn't deal with it. Before I could respond to what I thought about it, Annie chimed in:

"What do people think...really... do they think we fall out of heaven, all perfect and clean, into the lap of the one who is going to love us? Doesn't she know we are born, and go through life tumbling, dancing, and often bumping our head on the wall. We get dirty, bruised, collecting the good with the bad? Eventually, we fall into someone's heart... and hopefully with our body and soul, but we are who we are... wanting to be loved. Honestly, love helps us find our way."

The language of love speaks differently to each of us, some see love as more than skin deep.

Annie went on to say, "In a relationship when do you understand and accept another person's faults, let alone your own, and when do you let go and move on?

Annie summed it up as it is a weighing game, a measuring of the pros and cons. The trick is knowing when is it worth it and when is it a losing game.

I believe loving someone shows us who we are, and what we are capable of doing. Figuratively speaking, at birth we lose our way, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to find the path we were once on, to get back to the center of love. The Sacred Heart.

 

 

 

The language of love in hair, no joke. 

I wonder what dyed white hair to blond means?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The language of birds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The language of playing cards.

 

 

 

 

 

 

and the language of kisses as if those need explaining.

 

The card below looks like the guy is biting her neck, "Chocolate!"

 

 

 

 

Words I find Beautiful

 

Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose.

 

Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

until the song that is your life falls

 

into your own cupped hands and

 

you recognize and greet it.

 

 

Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worthy of rescue.

 

 

 

-Martha Postlewaite

 

Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose.

 

Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

until the song that is your life falls

 

into your own cupped hands and

 

you recognize and greet it.

 

 

Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worthy of rescue.

 

 

 

-Martha Postlewaite

You Never Know When a Moment Can Make up for Another Moment

 

A glorious winter morning, crisp clear, sunny we did not need a coat while sitting at an outdoor cafe along the port with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and a croissant. A Wannabe Friend came along with soulful eyes that spoke gently without saying a word. I smirked, not in a mean way, but as to say, "Out of all the people in the cafe you came by me?". My friend that understands dogs whispered, "He wants a bite of your croissant, he is an old dog you needn't be afraid." The Wannabe Friend kept looking at me, even when his Master called him.

"How do I give him a bite without him biting me? Why doesn't he beg his Master?". I pondered but my friend simply said, "The dog knows his Master won't give him a bite." I smiled at the Wannabe Friend, I smiled, "Oh Dog you are asking the wrong person, I am scared of you.". But as I uttered those words I knew I wasn't scared I just did not know what to do. I felt I had redeemed my bad experience last week by being there without freaking out. So I ate my croissant slowly and only glanced at my Wannabe Friend when my mouth wasn't full, smiling sheepishly. After a while, I slowly reached for my camera to take a photo, (that was close to climbing Mount Everest I tell you, I had to let go of fear and just do it!) to show you how close he was, we both were sweetly composed.

Molly the Mermaid Turns Sixteen

                     

 

Wet seaweed full of sand I gathered up, admiring the texture and subtle colors, remembering as a child how I could hardly stand to look at it, let alone touch it. With seaweed in hand, I walked back to my brother's campsite, Molly (my five-year-old niece) ran up to me. When she saw the seaweed she asked what I was going to do with it.

"I am going to make a seaweed crown do you want to wear it?"  I was certain she would shake her head no, then run and hide. Instead she said,

"Like a little mermaid?"

How original, how imaginative! "Why yes like a little mermaid! Can I take a picture of you when you have it on?"

I pointed to a nearby fence and started to walk towards it. Though once Molly realized that I was planning to take her picture by the fence, she tugged at my hand and exclaimed, "Aunt Coco mermaids don't sit by wooden fences! They sit at the edge of the sea. They need water you know!"

                    

 

 

Oh, I love this child! She sure knows how to grab my heart. I reminded her that the sea was a good walk away she nodded and we headed in its direction. Once there she found a pile of seaweed, sat on it then told me to sit down in front of her. Molly didn't smile instead gave me her impression of a mermaid washed ashore and what it was like to feel the sandy earth beneath her.

I asked her if she was sad. "No mermaids aren't sad, they love the sea and dancing in the waves sometimes they come to shore and make a seaweed crown but they have to return to the sea you know."

 

 

 

                

                

 

 

With that, she stood up and ran towards the sea. I can still hear her laughing when I close my eyes.

 

Happy Sixteenth Molly!

 

Baby Brocante is my Goal

 

 

 

 

I bought a baby basket bed for the baby who is loved beyond measure.

Years ago I sold a napkin ring with bebe engraved on it which means "Baby" in English, yeah now I want to find one of those, plus a charm like the one I sold above as well. I guess you could say I have baby brocante on my mind which suits me well considering I have no more room in our home for anything... well except baby brocante stuff. 

Baby sheets, baby blankets, baby clothes, a highchair, a stroller... oh my a stroller, a big fat juicy luscious over the top old stroller! 

Goals to meet in 2019.

 

 

 

 

First Steps to Renovating the Apartment in Cassis

 

 

At the beginning of renovating this apartment, we were faced with the same issues that we had when we renovated ours in Cassis.

The apartment is on a few levels,

There isn't a yard or garage to store or work on things,

The apartment needed to be gutted which makes the renovation more like creating a new home within existing walls.

Since the walls are made of stone, we would have to plaster most of them instead of using sheetrock, because we did not want to lose space.

The walls that had been plastered had to be removed as it wasn't done well which meant plastering on top of them would cause the walls to peel.

The stairs were very uneven, and since they were made over a hundred years ago we couldn't just cover them but rebuild them, which made using them a balancing act.

AND everything that needs to be done needs to go up or down the stairwell since we could not drop a shoot outside the front window.

 

 

 

Debris from demolishing the kitchen, carried downstairs to the truck in buckets.

Over 50 sacks weighing 50 pounds each were carried up.

Muscles.

Rene does it all.

 

 

 

The kitchen will look better one day. Gary and Ching want it to be modern. The facade will be charcoal. Did you know that black kitchens are in vogue? My mom had a black kitchen when I was a kid.

 

 

 

 

We hired Joel the ironsmith and Stair Master to help us. The stairs will be reconstructed, they will have a cement finish and where those boards are will be finished with an iron trim. That stone wall will remain uncovered. The board above their heads was where the storage room used to be.

 

 

 

 

 

Rene took one of the steps apart to show us how they were made in the day, underneath the stair tiles are layers of rock, board, dirt and whatever, solid yes, but to even them out will be a great deal of work as they have bowed lower as the years have gone by/

 

 

SO the work has begun, decisions have been made and we are on the hunt to find the elements to put it back to beauty again.

 

Cassis Renovation Project

 

My friends Ching and Gary bought a place in Cassis and asked me if I would help them design it into a place of their own. I have worked on a few renovations for Yann and I but never for someone else. As much as I love creating spaces, design and the challenges of renovating an old place I was afraid of mixing work with friendship. After talking with Gary, Ching, and Rene who would be doing the hard work and giving us the expertise they reassured me that our friendship came first and they trusted me. I jumped in and faced the pleasure of teaming with friends. Whenever there is a project with a group of people the first thing that must be in place is trust. 

These are the photos showing the bedroom and bathroom. We decided to knock everything out and to start from ground zero since Ching and Gary did not like the previous 1980s renovation, and wanted a space with more light and volume. No simple task in an old building from the turn of the century, but with walls that are earlier made of stone, plus the apartment is on the fourth floor without an elevator. 

As the apartment was furnished we had everything removed and given away.

Renovating an old place means you can expect surprises. That is what I like most about renovating, the challenges that come.

 

 

 

 

 

The room straight ahead in the photo on the left of the stairwell sat above the stairwell that went down to the entrance (yes not only are there four floors to arrive at the apartment there are three floors in the apartment. Who needs to hike a mountain or go to the gym?) I had that room which held the water heater and storage, removed so that the narrow cave-like entrance would have volume and light. There was a window in that storage room.

 

 

 

Opposite the closet was the bathroom, which was open into the bedroom, see the box springs leaning on the wall?

 

 

Bathroom tiles, shower, closets, ceiling, plus two walls removed. Some of the debris because there was PLENTY more than this photo reveals and plenty more to follow.

 

 

By the storage room and the stairwell, there was a tiny cramped dark landing. I had the bedroom wall removed to enlarge the entrance landing.

 

 

 

An empty room is always inviting, and makes the creative energy emerge in force...

 

Tomorrow I will show photos of the progress of the kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Renovating a Place in Cassis

 

 

Just in case you are wondering what I have been up to ...

My friend Ching and Gary bought an apartment in Cassis they hired Golden Hands Rene to do the renovations and asked me if I would guide them with the numerous decisions they need to make.

The first part of renovating is removing that which is not needed or wanted. When renovating an old place you never know what you will find when you take off the old flooring, walls, and ceilings luckily for us the surprising have been positive.

Underneath the dropped 1980s ceiling we found a vaulted ceiling made with red brick and iron. Rene and I are considering options as in what we can do to keep authentic while cleaning it up.

Meanwhile, it is back to dust, ideas, measuring, and visualizing plus collaborating with friends on their dream home away from home.

I will add a bunch of photos tomorrow. 

What projects are you involved in?

Your Theme Words

Words to set our sails,

to help us find our way

to aim for in our day to day lives.

 

 

 

 

"Intentional

is my word for this year.

I want to live my life intentionally instead of

fumbling through it from one crisis to the next.

I want to live, love and be loved intentionally s

o that I can live my life to the fullest. " Ana

 

P O E T R Y 

Mom of Five's word

 

Chances

from Ed

 

"Reaching my goal weight, reaching out to family & friends more, Reaching out to my Neighbour to learn more French words & verbs or maybe German as I did 4yrs at school, albeit a long time ago! and.....maybe......reaching to the skies to Europe..."  Leonie

 

 

C r e a t i v i t y

Debbie's word

 

Hurry is Kathie's word

"Revel. I have much to revel in this year, so I shall. xoxo revel [rev-uhl] verb (used without object), rev·eled, rev·el·ing or (especially British) rev·elled, rev·el·ling. to take great pleasure or delight (usually followed by in): to make merry; indulge in boisterous festivities."  Jan

 

Our Family's Theme Words for the year:

 

Chelsea's is TRUST

 

 

ARRIVING is Yann's

 

 

Sacha's word is DARE

 

 

and mine is DISCOVERY.

 

and those words that are on constantly close to heart... Giving, Loving, Prayer, Faith.

 

The Word to Define the New Year Ahead

 

 

Happiest New Year!

A few years back Chelsea asked us to pick a word that would be our theme word for the new year. Last year I picked the word "celebrate" as it was going to be a year of many happy moments, Yann and I celebrated thirty years of marriage, I turned sixty, we went on a family cruise with Yann's family, my nieces came to visit, Chelsea and Martin married, my family came to France, Yann went on an adventure to India, friends came and stayed with us and a baby begun. The word celebrate seemed a given, an easy choice for an unforgettable year.

This year also has a happy note to it, the coming of a grandchild, it makes everything seem secondary and anticlimactic. Certainly, anticipation could be the word of the year, anticipation is at my hand and heart. though a year of waiting though hopeful and promising weighs heavy on the word waiting, do I really want an entire year marked with the sense of waiting?

This year my theme word is Discovery. Discovering new life, new roles, avenues yet untraveled as a family. I am excited for this year to unfold and to meet the little one. Discovery sounds right.

What is word do you want to define your New Year?

 

 

New Year's Eve

 

The first day of the new year, what will it hold? Where will it take us, lead us? Where will our hearts be next year?

As the day unfolds reflection finds me, asking me what, where, who, why, does it do the same to you?

 

New Year what will you ask of me? Where will my path take me?

And a grandbaby!

What are your hopes for this New Year?

 

 

 

The Honeymooners in Belize

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is Exactly the Life I want to Live

 

 

A friend has a tattoo on her forearm that reads: "This is exactly the poem I want to write."

Which translated to me as, "This is exactly the life I want to live."

Though I think it comes from a poem from Mary Oliver

"White Heron Rises Over Blackwater"

which stirred my thoughts.

Lucky to even think about how I want to live my life.

Lucky not to worry about basic needs, and live in peace.

If truth be told the only thing I would change (other than world peace, illness, hatred...) would be the miles between

my family/friends and my life in France.

 

----

 

White Heron Rises Over Blackwater

 

 

"I wonder what it is that I will accomplish today

If anything can be called that marvelous word.

It won’t be

My kind of work, which is only putting words on a page,

The pencil

Haltingly calling up

The light of the world,

Yet nothing appearing on paper half as bright

As the mockingbird’s verbal hilarity

In the still unleafed shrub in the churchyard-

Or the white heron rising over the swamp and the darkness,

His yellow eyes and broad wings wearing

The light of the world in the light of the world-

Ah yes, I see him."

 

He is exactly the poem I wanted to write.

Mary Oliver

 

 

Tha Boy Who Wore Pink Polish

 

 

 

I found a locket at the brocante with a photo of two children sitting next to each other. The little boy has a ruffled collared shirt and cuffs, his vest and shorts are in velvet. 

When Sacha was little I use to dress him like that, ruffles, velvet, in sweet antique baby things. Many people would say to me:

 "Sacha is a boy you know?"

    "Yes, I know."

       "If you keep dressing him like a girl he is going to become a girl."

"Oh, I don't believe that he will be who he will be."

 

I wonder if the little boy, in the photograph, mother had to put up with that?

 

 

 

 

Photo source Simple Writings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lately, I have been wondering am I who I am because of nature or nurture?

Would I be different if I was nurtured differently?

Would the world be different if faith wasn't celebrated, encouraging us to love and forgive?

Are we loving, forgiving trying to do good because of nature or nurture?

Surely, both form us, but if nurture wasn't generally loving would we be?

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if the little girl sitting in a very big chair did not smile

because she was disappointed that she could not wear pants

as her brothers did in their photo.

"Only boys wear pants." She was told.

 

 

 

 

 

Sacha was about three years old when one day a group of mothers asked me if my child was a boy or a girl. I told them Sacha was a boy.

Sacha had curly locks, wild curly locks. They said, "For a boy, he sure has long curly hair?"

I replied that I loved his curly hair and didn't want to cut it. But that "he" was a boy with long curly hair.

They were not convinced so they asked, "Yes, but the child is wearing a ruffled shirt and a necklace?"

I smiled over my frustration and repeated that "He" was a boy wearing a ruffled shirt and a necklace, and that I found it sweet.

Still, the mothers persisted that my child was a girl they pointed to his red button down Mary Jane shoes, "Those are girl shoes."

I looked at Sacha's feet and sure enough he had on Chelsea's shoes, I shrugged and said, "He likes to wear his sister's shoes. I don't think that means anything about whether he is a boy or a girl."

Then they laughed out loud, and smirked, "Look at her fingernails! That isn't a boy it is a girl!"

Looking at Sacha's little chubby hand I noticed Chelsea had painted her brother's fingernails pink.

I gave in to their obsession, "You are right he is a girl."

They shook their heads knowingly and muttered amongst themselves, "She didn't understand us, she thought her child was a boy."

 

 

The Fear of Dogs and Fear Itself

Just when I was making progress to be around dogs, I nearly was attacked by a Great Dane yesterday while taking out the garbage. 

Our neighbor, an elderly man, was out walking his dog (which is as big as a pony) he had a chain type of leash. I greeted him by saying, "Hi George, I am not going to cross the street to give you a kiss (We give a kiss on both cheeks when we greet someone we know in France) because I am afraid of dogs, especially yours because he is so big." I smiled and added, "How was your Christmas?" He nodded, "Did you have an incident when you were young?" I replied, "Yes, but nothing equal to the fear I feel when I am around dogs. But I am making progress." He offered as all dog owners do when I say I am afraid of dogs, "He is nice, he won't hurt you." I smiled and asked, "How old is he, he must eat a lot of food!" In my thoughts I was going over everything you, my readers, have told me about being around dogs, I put my hands by my side, I did not make eye contact, I moved slowly, I kept my voice even when I was speaking, and I keep saying to myself while smiling, "It is a nice dog, big, but nice and I am safe and it is on a chain, and..." just then the dog vaulted in a massive leap across the street towards me. I froze. My neighbor held the leash but the dog was too strong and he wasn't prepared for the sudden movement. He fell and hit his head on the curb though he did not let go of the leash, the dog pulled him a bit but with my friend's dead weight the dog could not move any further. 

The dog did not seem mad, he definitely wanted to greet me with a big hello that would have toppled me. Or at least that is what I keep telling myself instead of what I felt was happening, "That dog is having me for dinner." 

My friend was on the ground, he had a hard time getting up, his glasses were broken and he reprimanded his dog. I was frozen with fear, my heart was beating fast I wanted to help my friend, to lend a hand but I could not move from fear of the dog. I felt awful. I am a helpful person and I wanted to help my friend but I could not no matter what my body would not respond to my heart's desire to help.

I asked him if he was hurt and he said no. He got up, pulled his dog close and limped to the other side of the street. I told him I was sorry, and that I wish I could lend a hand but I was too afraid. He held his dog tightly, told me not to worry as I walked ahead of him to my home. As soon as I was inside I had to sit down. I didn't know what felt worse, my fear or that I could not help my friend when he fell. It was a shocking reality to know that I choose my own perceived safety over helping my friend. 

When Yann came home soon after I told him what happened, and asked him to go check on our neighbor to be sure he was okay. 

Our neighbor was fine. The dog was fine and I am okay. Though I am just a little bit more aware that a big dog vaulting does not mean it is mad, just overly friendly. Though there is no way I am ever going to pet that dog. Yesterday was scary, but I won't let this incident add to my fear. I am making progress just saying that. Whew! 

Now I have to accept my actions and that part is bothersome. 

Fear prevented me from helping my friend, I need to learn to feel comfortable around dogs for the sake of others. I thought my fear was just about me, it couldn't bring harm to anyone, it just prevented me from getting involved... but now I see it as all together differently. Fear is a block and blocks can get in the way of being with others especially those in need be it fear of dogs or fear of something else.

 

 

 

 

Around my Home

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Christmas Spirit

 

Merry Christmas!

I am so lucky to have the gift of your friendship!

I hope today is a happy day filled with knowing you are loved.

 

 

Christmas Questionnaire

 This Christmas as Sacha will be with our friends Judy and Bill in Portland, and Chelsea and Martin will be in Mexico celebrating their Honeymoon, as well as the marriage of Martin's brother. Yann and I will be celebrating Christmas with friends at their home. In January Sacha will be coming to France, so we will delay our Christmas celebration until then. 

I did not decorate this year. Oh la la.

Someone sent me this Christmas Questionnaire, if you would like to answer yours please do so in the comment section:

 

 

 

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?    Both, with ribbons that I keep year after year.

 

2. Real tree or artificial?  Artificial.

 

3. When do you put up the tree?  Usually after Chelsea's birthday after the 20th of December.

 

4. When do you take the tree down?  Twelve or so days after Christmas, a day or two after Epiphany.

 

 

5. Do you like eggnog? Love it and miss it as I cannot find it in France. I have made it , but actually, I do not miss the calories.

 

6. Favorite gift received as a child?  A Mickey Mouse watch.  As an Adult Chelsea's birth as she was born on the 20th.

 

7. Hardest person to buy for?  Someone I do not know.

 

8. Easiest person to buy for? Anyone in my family.

 

9. Do you have a nativity scene?  Yes, it is called a creche in French and the nativity is an entire village of « Little Saints » called Santons.

 

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Neither. How bad is that!

 

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I know I should be grateful for every gift received. I know it is the thought that counts. But when the thought is « Paper Napkins ». I did not appreciate the thought, nor the gift.

 

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? It's a Wonderful Life

 

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?  December 15th or so. I like the rush.

 

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?  Yes, isn’t Brocante recycling at its finest?

 

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?  Jean’s Christmas Pudding.

 

16. Lights on the tree?  Yes. White sparkling ones.

 

17. Favorite Christmas song? Oh Come oh Come Emmanuelle.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? More often than not we stay at home. But I wish we could go home to the States every year.

 

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer's? Rudolf, Dasher, Dancer, Comet, Vixen, Prancer... oh no!

 

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?  Usually an angel.

 

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas eve … but when I was a child I use to open all my gifts before Christmas and re-wrapped them. I still do that sometimes… my family knows that about me. So they hide my gifts.

 

22. The most annoying thing about this time of the year? That there isn't peace on earth.

 

23. Favorite ornament ? I love opening the Christmas boxes and welcoming the little ole friends, retelling stories about the ornaments… my favorite one is a red and white polka dotted glass mushroom.

 

24. Do you make Christmas cookies ? No… but I do make a Christmas log cake.

 

25. What do you want for Christmas this year?  Good health, and peace… »Honey-Dos » 

Are you Ready for Christmas?

 

                   

 

 

                                      

 

 

 

                                      

 

 

 

                                        

 

 

                                      

 

 

 

                                      

 

 

 

 

                                      

 

 

                                      

 

Are you ready for Christmas?

The Story of Family

 

 

The history of my family started back before any of us were born, back before history was recorded, before ink and pen, somewhere amongst a woman's arms and a man's kiss, somewhere in the middle of a heart and soul.

My father's and my mother's parents came from the Azores, the islands off of Portugal.

 

 

 

 

The history of my family took place sailing across the ocean, traveling and working across the fields, buying farmland, and prayer. I never thought about it before, but the long row of fences that surround the fields remind me of rosaries dangled between my grandparents and parents hands. Pray they did.

Faith rooted them.

 

 

 

 

Wooden shoes.

A photo of my grandparent's barn framed from wood from their barn.

A bird's nest.

The morning hour.

Farm animals in a row.

Details of the entrance to my childhood home.

 

 

 

 

 

Family history:

One after another.

My oldest niece Patti.

Names use to tell us where we were from.

Patti is not a Portuguese name. Chelsea is not a French name.

Alfonso was the first name in the large book containing our family history dating back to the 1500s.

Had I known that would I have named our son Sacha Alfonso?

Probably not.

I do not think Martin nor Chelsea will either.

 

 

 

Fifteen years ago we went to the Azorian island that my family was from. 

The above photo of Sacha standing in front of the massive stone wall/fences that surrounded the fields.

My grandparents walked along those walls.

They did not know that their great-grandson would one day lean upon them as their grand-daughter took his photo.

 

 

 

Photos from several years ago:

 

Uncle Phil  (My Father's sister's husband) and his daughter my cousin Julie (Sacha's Godmother who read at Chelsea's wedding) and Aunt Ann (my dad's youngest sister) and her oldest daughter my cousin Judy.

 

 

 

Some of my nieces and nephew Gina, Patti, Kate, Marie, Molly, Maci and blessed is he among women: George.

 

 

 

 

 My brother's Mat wife Shelley and their daughter Marie.

 

Three of my four brothers.

 

 

 

My mother (the little blonde girl in the white dress) and her brothers, sisters, and her mother shucking corn.

 

My father, brothers, and my oldest niece and nephews (Chelsea and Sacha are part of this group).

 

 

 

My mom with the younger nieces and nephews

 

 

 

My baptism.

Father McGoldrick, my cousins-godparents, Craig and Mary, and my father standing on his tiptoes to catch the moment. My mother took the photo.

 

 

 

Family, you are where I am. 

Our history is within us, being watered by our thoughts, prayers, actions, our choices, our faith in one another,

Our lives and it will continue.

 

 

What Would You Add to the List if You Were Pregnant?

Photo: Chelsea 18 months old.

 

 

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

1)  He wouldn't watch TV, nor watch any violent movies, nor be around any loud noises, he would turn off the radio, and never listen to rock music (I had to remind him to keep it simple and not go into detail, otherwise I might begin to feel like Pumpkin Peter's wife. Though most the things he listed weren't a problem except the rock music as I listened to "Touch me" by the Doors nearly every day.)

2)  He would give up sugar, caffeine, anything too spicy, and never would he eat junk food, nor eat anything too hot or too cold,  he was on a roll, he went on and on, about food. Did he forget that we were vegetarians which meant healthy eating habits? I always wonder how it was that I gained 55 pounds living on air?

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

4)  He would take long silent walks in the forest breathing deeply the fresh air, being mindful of the earth under his feet and hug trees. I went to Bois des Vincennes as often as I could.

5)  He would have the baby in Pithiviers (the clinic where Leboyer, Odent and Lamaze ideas and knowledge were used.

I followed French Husband's list of things to do while pregnant. Chelsea was born in Pithiviers,

ten pounds, smiling and very calm. 

Chelsea do you know Daddy has an ENDLESS-LIST for you to follow now that you are pregnant?

Today is More Than Chelsea's 29th Birthday

Today is more than celebrating Chelsea's 29th birthday.

A month ago...

 

 

I found out the secret while Yann was in India, but I was sworn to secrecy which is not a strong point of mine. 

Holding on to such a massive golden tidbit was a challenge, I wanted to shout from the highest mountain top and dance wildly under the light of the moon. Instead, I literally held my tongue between my teeth and counted the days (16 of them) before the big reveal. When Yann returned home Chelsea and Martin had planned to visit the following Saturday. A few days before they arrived Yann started talking about going on Saturday to go take a lesson with a thing that looks like a death trap, a lawnmower attached to his back with kite wings on both sides of his arms. The idea of that bugs me completely, truly makes me want to shove him in a closet and lock it. PLUS the fact that he wanted to go on the day Chelsea was coming home, he did not know that she had a big secret to reveal, the whole idea sent me into a crazy orbit. How could I tell him not to go without revealing that which I was meant to keep a secret?

 

 

 

 

Finally, after the third or fourth time he mentioned wanted to take this flying lesson I simply laid the biggest guilt trip on him, "Hey I am not going to the brocante this weekend so you cannot go flying, plus you have been gone for two weeks!" I felt terrible telling him that way, but I ran out of:

"Honey please don't go, I have missed you so."

 

 

He stayed home and understood.

Other than our wedding day, having children, and Chelsea's and Martin's marriage becoming Grandparents has to be one of the happiest times in our lives. We are in love with that person to be.

This baby will be the first grandchild for Martin's family as well, and the first great-grandchild for my mother.

Chelsea and Martin told me I could announce their pregnancy on my blog on her birthday.

 

Meet baby to be.

Do you see the profile?

---------------------------------------------------

Due date is the early part of June 2019.

Happy Birthday Beautiful Chelsea xxxx

 

 

 

 

 

On the Eve of Some Big News

On the eve of anything wonderful,

it is hard to count the waiting hours.

Tomorrow

I can finally reveal my long-held secret.

I am terrible at secrets, actually pitiful,

it is a miracle that I have kept it this long.

so I cannot blow it now.

TOMORROW come fast!

I am closing the comments because of no guessing, or spoilers, or whatever.

 

How to Achieve Harmony

 

 

The other day I found a book if you could call it that, with its pages barely hanging on, I asked the dealer how much? French Husband looked at the book, looked at me, looked at the dealer and shrugged.

He doesn't get the attraction to things on their last leg.

He doesn't understand that kind of reckless beauty.

His knees don't buckle at the sight of old junky stuff with a price tag.

 

 

 

 

BUT he does get me. He shrugged, saying, "I am certain it is going to look better the moment you take it home."

French Husband lets me do what I want with our home. He likes how I do what I do. Sure sometimes he pitches a fit about some little thing, like why he can't put a hammock in the living room, or why the piles of whatever he doesn't want to be put away cannot take residence on the stairs, or why I had to move his several stacks of magazines by his bedside ten inches to the right so I could vacuum underneath them.

Like I have said a million times to that guy of mine: We both have our passions, we both have different hobbies that make us who we are. He likes to jump off mountains, go down caves, ride with the wind and fly in the sky... and I like to create a home with falling apart old things from the brocante.

He gets his toys.

I get the house.

I get to hear about his adventures without getting dirty or bruised.

He gets to come home, sit on a rickety chair, eat off a chipped plate and sleep on linen bedsheets.

Harmony comes with give and take..... and a few odds and ends.

 

How do you create harmony at home?

Photos of Paradise from my Friend Patricia Who Lost Her Home

 

Patricia had a home in Paradise as well as an art studio. I met Patricia years ago when she was traveling in the south of France, she had read my blog and contacted me. I felt like a neighbor had come to visit considering Paradise near my hometown in California.

Patricia lost everything in the fire.

Recently, a photographer offered families from Paradise her services, since most of them no longer had photos of their families.

 

The photos and text below are from Patricia:

 

 

 

The long road home.

Patricia went to Paradise, as the roads and neighborhood were recently accessible to residents.

 

 

 

This fire exploded our community...

 

 

 

 

It flattened us, and twisted us,

 

 

 

...it spilled our guts,

 

 

 

Transformed us.

 

 

Ripped us from the inside out.

 

 

 

 

It sent us wandering in a fog of uselessness...

 

 

 

...and fractured every bit of what made us whole and unique.

 

 

 

 

 

...and melted us in the most peculiar ways.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blinded us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This monster emptied us of everything...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And yet, oddly enough the hearth remains...

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now as we are living like refugees,

starting to put our lives back together we all share the same grief but also the same hope

that we will be blooming in new ways,

growing in the light of the outpouring of love and generosity that continues to be shown us.

It is a new day and a new life and I am supported with hugs everywhere I go!

 

 

To make donations to the community of Paradise here is a good place, my nephew Andy works here:

 

GOLDEN VALLEY BANK

 

Golden Valley Bank is working with

 

Camp Fire Relief 
General Funds 

Please send questions to Natasha at nbeehner@goldenvalley.bank. 

Golden Valley Bank General Fund

Boys and Girls Club of the North Valley

Public Safety Workers

Butte County Sheriff Dept. Employees

Agricultural Efforts

Shelter Storage

The Last to Leave

 

and in associating with the following businesses who will donate part of their sales to Golden Valley Bank Camp Fire Victims:

 

Camp Fire Relief 
Business Partner Funds

Please send questions to Natasha at nbeehner@goldenvalley.bank.

Sierra Nevada Brewery

Fifth Sun

Lulus

Klean Kanteen

California Olive Ranch

NorthStar

Chico Electric

Associated Pension Consultants

Nor-Cal Vans

Firestorm Fire

Russell, Gallaway Associates, Inc.

Gas Transmission Systems (GTS)

GRID Alternatives North Valley

AdventureSmith Explorations

Immediate Care

Tender Loving Coffee

Alternative Energy Systems

MJB Welding Supply

Meester & Co.

 BCM Construction

Videomaker

Pathology Sciences Medical Group

Interim Healthcare

MC2

Chico Honda Motorsports

Lundberg Family Farms

Feather Falls Casino

Ray Morgan Company

Cascade Orthopedic Supply

Ferguson & Brewer Investment Co.

Morrison and Company 

 

 

 

 

 

Where will my donation go?

100% of your donation will stay local. We will be making decisions as needs arise over the next year or more.

How do I set up a fund?

We are no longer setting up Camp Fire Relief funds for individuals or organizations due to an overwhelming amount of requests.

Will any of my donation go towards administrative fees for your Foundation?

None of your donation will go towards administrative fees. There is a small fee to use PayPal services, if you choose to donate that way instead of a check.

Is my donation tax deductible?

Yes.  You will receive a receipt within 5-7 business days.

If you have questions, please email nbeehner@goldenvalley.bank. 

Please find donation options through multiple organizations below. Electronic transfers are accepted through PayPal.

Another option is to drop off or mail a check to either addresses below.

Please make checks payable to "GVBCF-Camp Fire". If you would like your donation to go toward a specific fund, please put the Fund's name in the memo on the check.

190 Cohasset Road, Chico, CA 95926

250 Hemsted Dr., Ste. 100 Redding, CA 96002

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Problem with Fluff Stuff

 

A blue ribbon with hand painted flowers one of many in a trunk at the brocante.

What is it about lace, ribbons, bows... feminine fluff? Why do these trunks, and there are many, make me stop and look? Given that I can't stand to cut into old textiles, I usually go home and add the feminine fluff to a basket.

Oh, those darn heavy wooden trunks with big iron locks and old labels, tempting, and teasing haunting me with,

"O...P...E...N  M..E! Look what I have hidden inside for you."  

And I do.

Sucked right in everytime.

 

 

 

Maybe the main attraction is because I can put a ribbon anywhere. It isn't heavy and it does not take up any room.

French Husband shakes his head, "Then why do you like books? And chairs? And urns? And statues...

I put my hand over his mouth.

 

 

Snaps from Aix en Provence

 

 

 

 

 

Do You Hear a Voice in the Trunk?

 

 

The Scene:

Two women walking around a very shabby and not so chic brocante in France.

Characters:

Susan: An American woman who speaks some French, loves the brocante, knows what she likes and is happy to be brocanting in France. Enjoying the scenery-- but focused. 

Corey: American woman who lives in France. Addicted to the brocante. Within a second realizes that Susan is her carbon copy when it comes to buying antiques. "Oh no," is her first thought. Her kinder thought comes fifteen seconds later.

Take One:

Susan and Corey scoop up items, compare their hunt and prices like two hunters in the woods.

Whadya get?

Wow, that's cool?

How much?

Lucky, that's great!

Whadya get?

I want it! Was there anymore?

How much?

I like that, do you?

Whadya think, is it worth it?

 

Take Two:

The two split up: One goes to the left, the other goes to the right.

Corey comes upon a "bingo" of a stand and starts scooping up the wonderment in record speed. The dealer sees that Corey loves books and offers her two that are in her car. (One of the most important GOLDEN RULES OF BROCANTING: ALWAYS ASK THE DEALER IF THEY HAVE ANYMORE OR SIMILAR ITEMS.) Corey cannot believe her luck and looks around for Susan.

 

 

 

 

The books are dated 1774. Corey nearly faints.

Susan in the distance sees the scooper scooping and racing over to get her fill... Corey does not give her the elbow because she is on cloud nine over the books, and Susan has asked Corey to take her around to the brocantes. Corey remembers to be zen, to be kind and bites her tongue.

"Whadya find?" Corey asks... though cannot wait to show Susan the books... thinking she has the upper hand of the deal of the day.

Susan shows Corey her box of wonders, an entire box of 18th century Creil white dishes, old beautiful dishes. Corey's mouth hits the dirty ground, her manners follow suit. With her monastic years far behind her Corey says in a teasing way, "Shut up! How much?" When Susan announces it cost her the price of a pizza. Corey nearly faints for the second time. They both laugh and then return to the hunt.

 

 

 

 

 

Take Three:

Corey and Susan gather up the bits and pieces that they have bought. Corey kneels down to help Susan pick up some of her latest purchases. When she kneels down she sees the underside of a vase she has overlooked for the last thousand hours. She cannot believe her eyes. The vase has been front and center in their faces for the last thousand hours and neither of them saw it because they had only seen it from up above... and as it didn't seem like much from up above, they had not cared to take a closer look.

Another Golden Rule about Brocanting: Walk around the fair more than once, more than twice... you cannot possible seeing everything in one take let alone in three takes, AND look up, down, under and around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Take Four:

Corey buys the vase for five euro. She thinks the brocante gods must be on her side since she brought a friend along to a favorite secret brocante spot. She proclaims her gratitude by vowing never to threaten to shove someone in the armoire or trunk again. 

Just as Corey is about to kiss the vase and say Amen. Susan squeals: "Oh Corey! Look what I found! You walked right by it! Look at this mirror I bought!"

The original mercury molted mirror is fanastic, the frame is good, but the mirror... 

 

 

Last Scene:

What do you think happened to Susan?

Did Corey keep her vow?

Did the Mirror ride in the front seat?

Do you hear a voice in the trunk?

 

Footnote:

I really am nice. So come tag along with me with the French la Vie 

I promise to put only antiques in the trunk.