The Late Bloomer

Breastfeeding (Still) Makes Me Smile...

2009-04-20T09:34:00.000Z

I started writing this post something like 3 or 4 months ago, and then life just managed to get in the way. Ironically enough, I went through a difficult period of breastfeeding in December and January, when Emma started teething (although to this day I STILL don't believe it was her teeth that were bothering me...) and having a poor latch. Even today she still sometimes gets lazy and doesn't latch so well (whereas when she was a newborn she was a champion latcher!), and obviously this causes a lot of discomfort. I'm inclined to think that this may have led to my breast infection back in early January when I traveled to the U.S. and showed up at my parents' house with a 103° F fever... Thank goodness a doctor had prescribed me some amoxicillin before I left France, because she told me at the time she thought I had the flu... In the end, this was the one antibiotic I could take while continuing to breastfeed, and apparently it nipped the infection in the bud -- to my enormous relief! Needless to say, those first 10 days or so back on American soil were a bit difficult, for both of us, what with the addition of baby jetlag, teething, and re-adjustment. Otherwise, Emma did really well.

I re-read this post and thought back to this particular moment; I still have times like this, when Emma looks up at me with that happy, satisfied look after nursing -- they call it "repu" in French, another word I learned as a new mother! -- but for the most part she's now all business, most of the time, and in particular in the morning she's in a mighty hurry to latch onto my breast because, boy howdy, she's HUNGRY after that long night!

Early morning IS one of my favorite times with Emma, even though on the whole I still remain a non-morning person in general. But both my boy and I cannot resist listening to her gurgle and chatter in her crib until she catches sight of me awake and then INSISTS on my picking her up to feed her -- in a jiffy! I love to hear her quietly wake up from a nap during the day as well, chitter-chattering away in the bedroom and not even calling out for me to come get her -- just enjoying her quiet moment alone.

And all in all I am still in a happy nursing mode -- and I'm still thrilled to be breastfeeding Emma, one choice that I stuck to, even when the going got tough. My goal at this point is to nurse her through her 1st birthday, but if she weans herself before then, that's fine too. (Oh, and on a sidenote, it's funny to see the reaction from a LOT of French people when I say that I'm still breastfeeding -- it's mixed, of course, but more often than not they seem more than a little surprised, sometimes even shocked, particularly the pharmacists! Isn't that interesting...) Of course, it clearly has helped that I chose to stay home with Emma a bit longer before returning to work, and this has been a blessing all around -- this time with her is something that I know I need to cherish, because it flies by fast. I really hope I will keep good memories from this year with her that will last me a lifetime.

****

November 23rd, 2008

I never thought I would say this, but I am SO, SO happy that I stuck it out with the breastfeeding. And I hate to get all sappy and stuff, but I am really enjoying the quiet moments of breastfeeding that I share with Emma these days... The tough times back at the beginning were totally worth it, I can assure you -- sure, I still have a few difficulties from time to time, and I've definitely had my share of rocky points, but on the whole, the experience has become nothing but positive for me. Emma occasionally gets distracted and pulls off when she's unfocused on her latch, and sometimes when she's really hungry she can be anxious while on the breast, but for the most part she leans into me and enjoys the special time we're sharing together. I think my favorite moment is when she has already nursed on one breast, so she's feeling pretty good already and is nearly full, but decides to nurse a bit on the other breast anyway and looks up at me with a little sparkle in her eye, as if to say, "Well, I'm not really that hungry anymore, but I'm a little gourmande like you, Mommy, so I'll stay on here for a while longer..." And she smiles a bit, espiègle and as cute as a button.

I also like the early morning nursing sessions, when I wake up to her quietly gurgling away in her crib beside me, waiting for me to come out of my own deep sleep and reach into the bed to get her and bring her close to me. She'll smile again, turn her head to me and open her mouth like a baby bird, then concentrate on a very serious nursing session for about 10 minutes. I can tell how fulfilling these morning times are from how happy and satisfied she almost always seems afterwards. And it really is a good feeling!

Magical Moments and Milestones...

2008-12-11T14:49:00.003Z

There are too many to even try to put down here, and at the risk of sounding like a complete cliché, I have to say that these special moments with Emma are unforgettable -- I know, I know, it's getting old, hearing all the Proud Momma statements, but I just can't resist! Emma's 4th month has officially become pretty eventful, as we found her first official tooth yesterday morning -- yep, my suspicions were confirmed! I had thought she had been acting a bit strange lately, not quite herself, what with the general fussiness, not just in the evenings, as usual, but at other moments during the day. And then there was the drooling and the chewing on darn near everything -- not just Sophie La Girafe! Thanks again, Linda, for that wonderful gift -- I don't know what we'd do without it these days! She gnaws on that famous giraffe enthusiastically, until it drops out of her hand and she gets frustrated wondering where it has gone until Momma picks it back up for her again. She hasn't yet hit that stage where she does it on purpose just for the fun of it -- BOY are we looking forward to that one! I remember my little brother doing that...

Already last month, at her 3-month check-up, I mentioned to the pediatrician my suspicions about possible teething, and she said that of course all babies at her age are discovering things by putting them in their mouths, and of course drooling pretty regularly -- which I do realize is true. But the accumulation of signs just led me to believe that more was going on, and that our little peanut was going to be precocious in the tooth department in any case! Last weekend she had a low-grade fever and inexplicably fell asleep on her activity mat in the early evening, not long after waking up from a nap... Another sign! Plus, she has been nursing differently for the last week or so -- her behavior has changed, and I know that this is pretty normal as well, depending on the baby's mood, etc. She has been pulling away at my breasts while nursing and then pulling off pretty regularly, looking up at me like she doesn't understand what's going on -- as if I could explain it myself! As it turns out, I read that when a baby is teething, he/she has pain when nursing, as the sucking puts pressure on the gums as well...

So when she grabbed at my fingers yesterday morning in bed and started sucking away at them, I let her go at it, until I felt the sharp stab in the front part of her mouth -- YIKES! That's when I went in for a closer look and, lo and behold, discovered the tooth! And it even looks like the one next to it is coming in as well. Bottom front, of course. Poor thing...

Right now she's been going through a lot of moodiness, which is understandable, and I do hope we'll get through this pretty fast... It can vary from one baby to the next, and I know the teeth all come in gradually, so I just hope it will be in spurts and not constant months of teething pain!

Just the other night we had one of those magical moments that I had to write about as well: after her evening bath in the kitchen (how incongruous does that sound? But we don't have a bathtub...), I usually get her dressed and finish up all the little toiletry stages, including cleaning her ears, nose and eyes with saline. Sometimes I'll use some lotion on her, but in general I try not to use too much in the way of "extra" products -- she really doesn't need them! She smells good, baby-good, just the way she is, if you ask me, without the help of any products. I turned her over on her belly for a moment and put her arms forward, as I've tried to do on occasion on her tapis d'éveil, and whereas usually she flails her arms out to the side as if she were swimming, this time she lifted her head up high while pushing on her arms and looked at me. I clapped my hands and said, "Bravo, Emma Bear!" And she burst out laughing, so proud of herself! It was just perfect.

I've tried to capture some of the "lifting up" on camera, but it's been pretty tough so far... I managed to score one, but unfortunately it was blurry. We'll keep trying!

Yesterday's 4-month visit with the pediatrician went well, and Emma was a champ, as usual. I half expected her to be fussy, precisely because she hadn't been doing so well lately, and on top of all that, she hadn't had a real nap since early in the morning, and after falling asleep in the stroller I had to wake her up to see the doctor... But she smiled and sailed her way through the exam, so I worried for nothing... She's weighing in at nearly 16 pounds now (7.150 kilos) and is 68 centimeters long -- she's getting bigger and bigger! She hardly flinched for this month's first shot, but did cry a bit for the second one. Luckily next month there won't be any more vaccinations before we leave for our trip to the U.S. -- thank goodness! The doctor confirmed that she has two teeth sprouting, and we discussed other little concerns of mine... When we left, Emma fell back asleep in the stroller and Momma ran her around the neighborhood for some errands -- I was about exhausted as she was by the time we got back home!

The days are just flying by... And at this point, I still can't see myself leaving Emma at home. I'm not sure what the future is going to bring, but I have some tough choices to make in the next couple of weeks... I know that for the moment, yes, my blog is one of those blogs, but -- well, that's my life right now! So please be patient and bear with me.

Oh, and I know I did get tagged AGES ago by my dear Lauren and Meredith at Poppy Fields as well, but I wonder if I should even bother taking my turn at this point? It's been so long...

Little Bubbles of Happiness

2008-11-27T13:35:00.002Z

It goes without saying that I am beyond grateful for the arrival of baby Emma in my life... In our lives, really. But I am ever so thankful also for moments like the one I just shared with my daughter, in which she quietly finished nursing and stretched out like a cat, that milk-drunk look on her face, and then smiled up at me. I smiled down at her and the feeling of connection was so strong, I knew this was a moment I would remember forever. Perhaps not in detail, but just that special feeling of bonding, that exchange of smiles, that warm strength that comes from knowing how very much I love her. I wanted that moment to last forever, to engrave it in my heart to be able to bring it out in moments of difficulty and sadness.

Oh, yes, I am grateful and thankful for the joy that Emma has brought to our lives, to both her daddy and me, and to my whole family... The past four months have been a roller-coaster of emotions, in more ways than one, and I know that there is so much more to come -- I just hope I'm up for the ride! I'm working on becoming better organized, but I'm also trying to treasure these little bubbles of happiness we share together, because I know they are finite and oh-so-ephemeral.

But yes, thank you dear Lord, thank you Universe for bringing Emma into our lives. The magic is only just beginning.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Up in Arms!

2008-11-23T22:12:00.002Z

Okay, I don't know where to begin with this, so I'll just get straight to the point: I've been trying to book a plane ticket for Emma and me to travel to the U.S. over the past few days, and Friday night I thought I was set after having found a great fare on CheapAir.com -- but no, it was too good to be true! The next day I get an e-mail and a phone call telling me that the flight can't be confirmed at the quoted price on-line because in fact the "class" for an infant has been changed, or something or other, and that in fact Emma's fare will be 210 AMERICAN DOLLARS MORE -- supposedly for fuel charges!!?? In essence, her ticket will cost nearly as much as MINE, and she doesn't even get a seat! She will be sitting on my lap and may very well get a bassinet, IF I'm lucky enough to get a bulkhead seat.

Folks, as you all know, my daughter will only be 5 months old in December, and I decided to travel with her in January, after the New Year, because I figured that by then the fares would be much cheaper than traveling over the holidays. It wasn't absolutely crucial that I be in the U.S. for Christmas this year, as Emma is still really little, and I figured we would celebrate Christmas here with my boyfriend's family, and then just celebrate things a bit later with my family back home. In the future, further down the road, I hope to take Emma back to the U.S. for an actual Christmas, when she's older and can really appreciate the Christmas carols, baking cookies, the atmosphere around the holidays -- the whole shebang, quoi. This is pretty much the ONLY time I'll have to be this flexible about my travel times, too, because I'm not working right now. Once I go back to work it will be much tougher to figure out the best times to travel. And this time around I don't need to fly over on a particular date, so I was open to many different possible options.

Basically I was looking at flying over around January 8th and staying nearly a month at my parents' place. But I am BEYOND SHOCKED by these new supposed fuel charges... Does anybody know anything about this? Have you heard anything about this before? Suppposedly the woman at USAir told my mother (who called for me as well, as she was helping me to try to book the tickets) that this was some sort of new international regulation for infant passengers -- but WTF?!?! I thought the whole benefit of traveling with a child under the age of 2 was that the cost was much lower, and this is because she doesn't even get a seat! She weighs less than 15 pounds for goodness sake! How can they say this is for FUEL charges, both ways? Is this some money-making scam, the way the airlines are trying to make up for their own financial losses? Has anyone encountered this? I know I basically have no recourse, but I just don't understand how these Internet companies can quote certain fares and then 24 hours later call you to tell you that no, in fact your fare is NOT what you thought it was going to be, as the airline you're traveling with has decided to add this extra charge...

With the extra taxes and fuel charges, Emma's fare will be pretty much as much as mine, and once again, she DOESN'T GET A SEAT! I'm trying not to get steamed over this, but it's definitely not working... I just got off the phone with my mother again, and we're both simply flummoxed by this whole situation. And they've got us good, these damn airlines, because we obviously can't do a thing! And here I was thinking that I wanted to be able to travel with my daughter while she was little, like everyone has told me, because it's financially beneficial, in addition to the obvious fact that it will be a nice way for us to spend time with my family back in the U.S. But NOW what are we supposed to do? Just bite the bullet? I have a feeling that we'll simply have to do exactly that, because we basically have no recourse. I'm just stunned that the international airlines can just UP and do something like this, out of the blue, and inform passengers about it in such a roundabout way, instead of doing it up-front.

Anyhoo, sorry for the rant. I usually don't get so up in arms and upset about things, but this is just extremely disappointing and unnerving for me, particularly since we're really trying to watch our pennies these days, with me deciding to take a few more months away from work with Emma at home. The last thing we need is to have to pay for an expensive airfare in JANUARY, pretty much the lowest season and what I would think would be one of the least expensive times of year to travel to the U.S. from France.

OK, I'm off to grumble some more to myself... And drag my butt to bed.

P.S. ~ On a brighter sidenote, Emma was adorable today -- gurgling away like crazy and being just the sweetest thing. She even took a 3-hour nap from noon to 3:00! It's her smile that makes everything else fade away into insignificance.

Progress... in More Ways Than One!

2008-11-13T19:11:00.004Z

Right now I'm feeling the need to write about Emma and all that we're experiencing together these days: her discoveries, her reactions to everything around her, our exchanges... And I'm realizing that if I don't get some of this down, NOW, that I'll regret it later. I'm trying to recall now some of the things that she has done over the last couple of weeks that have really made me laugh or smile, thinking to myself how important it is that I remember that particular moment. For example, when I was lacing up my tennis shoes a few days ago, she looked up at me from her transat chair and just started giggling -- I haven't the slightest idea what made her laugh (maybe it was how big her mommy's feet are?), but it was of course contagious, and I started laughing too... She's been giggling more and more like that, but often for completely inexplicable reasons. She'll also laugh a lot when I'm playing with her little feet or goofing around with her before her bathtime. Sometimes she seems like she's outsmarting me, even now, and she blows my mind with her intuitiveness... Just last week I took her to the pediatrician for her 3-month check-up (which involved a second set of vaccination shots -- UGH!), and as I started getting her out of her winter coat in her stroller, she looked up at me as if to say, "What are we doing back HERE, Mommy?" Her lower lip trembled and she started crying. At the time, I couldn't figure out for the life of me what had provoked this reaction, and it was only later when I told my boy about it that he said, "Well, maybe she recognized the place where she was given the shots last month..."

I couldn't believe it! Granted, we're only surmising, and maybe she simply had a bellyache, but she doesn't usually get that trembly lip thing going on unless she's really upset about something. I'm always talking to her, just chit-chatting away, and my boyfriend commented to his father that I basically have a constant "monologue" going on -- and while he thinks this is hilarious, he also felt like it must be good for Emma. I hope so anyway! But the thing is, I'm almost always either being silly or talking in what I think is a positive tone of voice, so she has really come to sense when something is wrong. After nursing her early on Tuesday morning this week, we fell back asleep, as it was a national holiday here in France and Daddy was home with us as well... When Emma woke up around 9:00, Daddy brought her into the bed and we spent some time together before he took her to change her diaper. I joined them in the living room a few minutes later, but I was still trying to drag myself up out of sleep. As I looked down at Emma, I noticed that she had scratched her face again in several spots -- she hasn't done this in a while, and I've been trying to be vigilant about trimming her fingernails on a regular basis. But since she started sucking her thumb, she puts her fingers up around her nose like a claw, often in the middle of the night, trying to get her thumb in just the right position... And hence the dragging away at her nose and the scratches.

A bit dismayed, I said out loud, "Oh no, you've scratched yourself again!" And of course my tone of voice was a wee bit negative... Poor Emma took one look at me and the trembling lip came back! She burst out crying, little sweetheart, and I felt terrible. I reassured her that of course it wasn't her fault, and started talking to her as usual, and she calmed down. But it was just incredible how she sensed immediately that I wasn't talking like I usually do! And she felt like she had done something wrong and I was yelling at her...

Other times her understanding of things impresses me as well, like at bedtime. After nursing her, usually she'll fall asleep on my shoulder when I'm trying to get that last little burp. And I'll gently put her in bed for the night. But once this week she woke up with a start and looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I thought, oh man, now she's really awake! But I told her quietly that it was bedtime, and that she needed to sleep now; I laid her in bed, and she looked up at me with a big smile. Ten minutes later, when I came in to check on her, she was sound asleep. Again, incredible! At least I felt like it was... In any case, her personality is really beginning to shine, and it's really exciting to see how much she's changing all the time.

Last weekend was really nice as we spent a couple days up in Le Havre again, at my father-in-law's house, where I was finally able to cook for the first time in months. I cracked out a new recipe I had wanted to try for a canette aux figues. I'm crazy about figs and hadn't had a chance to cook with them at all this year, and as the season is coming to an end, I didn't want to miss out. I didn't know whether I'd pull off this particular recipe, but it turned out really well, even better than I had hoped. Definitely one to try again, maybe even before the end of the month! Here's hoping the figs will hang in there for a couple more weeks at the local market... I'd also like to bake my fig tart again, the one I first made last year, with an almond cream.

So I'm gradually adding some other nice things into my days and I'm working on finding a better balance of my time -- although I still need some major improvement in the housecleaning department! Ugh. At least Emma's laundry gets done in a jiffy -- I can spend a good half-hour scrubbing away at her poopoo stains, and it's looking like I'll need a new bar of Octagon soap when I head over to the U.S. in January -- at least if all goes well! I still need to book our plane tickets, but I'm hoping that because it will be low season and after the holidays that I'll be able to find a decent fare. Next Monday we're heading off to the American Embassy to put through Emma's paperwork for her passport, so that will be a step in the right direction!

Emma in the morning...

2008-11-05T13:25:00.001Z

Emma in the morning...
Originally uploaded by alwaysace

What can I say? She entertains me. And makes me smile, all the time! It's just a shame that her funny little sneezes got cut off the end here...

What a Champ!

2008-10-30T12:34:00.005Z

Emma B., sitting pretty in shades of blue

OK, so I know I took, like, an unannounced two-month blogging hiatus without saying anything, and there's probably no one out there reading me anymore *chirp, chirp* -- but I have to admit that this blogging gig has never been a very consistent thing for me (um, as if I have to point that out...). And most of the time I can only really post something when I feel GOOD about it and what I have to say and can't wait to get it out there in the blogosphere -- either that or when I really need to rant, which of course has happened on occasion, from time to time... Ha!

But the truth of the matter is, it's not easy for me to talk about my fears, anxieties and concerns when it comes to Emma and doing my best in raising her. I know I have so much to learn, and I do hope most of it will come naturally and with some help and advice from those around me, but I have to admit that I SO wish I could avoid transmitting my neuroses and worries to her, even though in the end I know it's ultimately inevitable... They're just a part of my nature and one of the hardest things to change about me. And virtually impossible to disguise or smother, for that matter.

Emma has been a doll, truly an angel, and I know THAT will probably change a million times over as well, but sometimes I can't get over how wonderful she is... Smiling all the time like crazy, especially in the morning after just waking up, when she's just Baby Sunshine. In the first two months I really did worry about everything and anything, and I imagine that will more than likely continue for a while as well, but these days I'm settling into the whole momma gig a bit better and starting to gain a little more confidence in myself and my capabilities. I still need to learn to be better organized, but, well -- one day at a time! I'm thrilled that I've been able to continue with breastfeeding, especially since that first month was so damn difficult... And I honestly thought so many times that I was going to have to throw in the towel, give up and start doing formula, or at least mixed nursing. But I stuck it out, stuck to my guns if you will, and persisted in my desire to do only exclusive breastfeeding. Bizarrely enough, I never had a major "montée de lait" in the first few days after Emma was born, and that's perhaps where all my anxieties first began (wondering if I had enough milk and all...), because I worried so much about having done something wrong from the get-go, namely letting Emma be taken to the nursery the first couple of nights because I was so wiped out after the delivery. I know SO MANY of the books and experts say not to do it, but I was truly a wreck -- and again, sometime soon I'll try to write more about my delivery experience, so I can explain things in more detail. My experience was far from the most gruesome, truly, but it was far from easy too... In the end, though, my milk did gradually come in, probably much more gradually than for most moms, but the important thing is that I did finally have enough milk!

My little blossomed bean has been growing like a weed in any case, and we'll find out exactly how much she weighs and measures next week at her three-month check-up. Of course TODAY is her official 3-month birthday, so Happy Three Months Emma B.! While my parents were here she was a big show-off, smiling all the time and taking in everything around her. My older brother spoiled her like crazy and kept her constantly entertained with Elmo and Cookie Monster skits and conversations -- my brother is just the best uncle! :-) My parents were of course thrilled to spend so much time with her and only wished they could stay longer... As did I. My dad was particularly good at putting Emma to sleep on his shoulder, as well as making her giggle on her changing table. Speaking of which, how funny is the fact that that's one of her favorite places to be? On the changing table, I mean. Who woulda thunk it?! I know I've got to keep a particularly close eagle eye on her these days, as she starts rolling around even more, but when I lay her down there, she's almost always happy... She loves to be taken care of and to have attention showered upon her (she ain't a Leo for nothin'!), and she fixates on this poster that I have hanging on the wall right above her changing table, a print from a museum in Le Havre. Which always brings back memories of my boyfriend's mother...

Emma's also getting stronger and stronger... Aimée pointed out back in late September, when my parents and I stopped by l'OisiveThé for lunch, that Emma was already starting to hold up her head "like a champ" -- and she's been doing it more and more! She's constantly staring around her and is what the French call "très éveillée", aware of so much and crazy curious about everything. Her latest thing is talking to her buddies in her stroller as we take walks around the neighborhood. The other day I bent down to check on her and found her garbling away to Mr. Turtle -- once again, she made me smile like crazy!

I managed to make a return trip back to l'OisiveThé about two weeks ago, when I finally hauled the MacLaren into the city and realized that, in fact, it's not all that hard to carry around -- once Aimée showed me how to REALLY carry it, that is! And here I thought it was going to be such a hassle... But this is one of the main reasons why the Techno XT is so great, and I'm SO grateful to Aimée and Philippa for telling me about it. And here I thought I was going to have to carry the stroller separately while carrying Emma in the Baby Bjorn! Silly me... So thanks to dear Lauren and Aimée's generous help while balancing the business in the teahouse, I was able to get my hair cut in the adorable salon across the street and have a delicious lunch with the gals. It was a wonderful afternoon, and I'm so glad I braved it into the city that day -- especially since Aimée also showed me a new route for my trips back and forth into her neighborhood. So I hope to make it back again sometime soon! Thank you SO much, Aimée!

Oh, and I can't sign off without mentioning Emma's other latest discovery -- the THUMB! Yes, that's right, it's official: Emma B. has discovered the fascination and soothing powers of her thumb... I didn't know how to feel about it at first, as I've heard such horror stories about children sucking their thumbs into early adolescence, but what can you do, really? She seems so calm and happy when she has it in her mouth, and I can't argue with that, especially when she's having a hard time going to sleep... Then again, the funny thing is when she pops it in her mouth when she seems downright bored, or if she feels like she's not getting enough attention -- that's something that worries me a bit! Of course, she's never really cottoned on to the pacifier, which I was initially relieved about, but which is the worse evil? Thumb or pacifier? Therein lies the question... And I know there are two schools of thought, two opposing camps, and I have no idea where my thoughts really fall.

But one thing is for sure, Emma is on her way to becoming an enchanting baby girl! This coming from an entirely biased Mommy, of course...

Happy One Month, Emma!

2008-09-01T17:35:00.002Z

Love these expressions..., originally uploaded by alwaysace.

Check out that double-chin! Emma celebrated her one-month birthday this past weekend, and I have to admit it was a relief to learn on Friday that she has been gaining weight and has grown steadily over the past month (she went from 53 centimeters at birth to 57.5!). We saw the pediatrician together, and the news was good -- she is alert and in good health, and aside from some pesky "baby acne" and some of my own concerns with breastfeeding, things are going very well. Of course, I have my good days and my bad days, as I find myself constantly worrying about one thing or another, but Emma is as adorable as ever and is always surprising my boyfriend and I with her expressions, as you can see in this photo.

This past weekend we also made some steps forward in preparation for my brother's and my parents' visit in about 2 weeks' time... We managed to finally choose a sofa-bed at Ikea on Saturday and then did some more reorganization around the apartment. The place will be far from perfect, but hopefully it will be much better than the state it has been in in recent months... Emma's mint-colored crib will also finally be arriving tomorrow (we've found other places for her to sleep up until now, trust me!), and I even chose a little rug for her eventual "room". What is serving as her room right now will actually also be a combination guest room/office, because we just don't have enough rooms otherwise! But I know that's the dilemma of many of us living in la région parisienne...

So I was in a great mood on Saturday, and then yesterday for some reason I fell back into the blues, and I couldn't even figure out why. Part of it was probably my knowing that my boyfriend was heading back to work again the next day, and I love the time we spend together just the three of us, and part of it was more than likely hormonal too. One day I'm up, and the next I'm down! More so than usual these days...

Emma is relaxing in her transat beside me right now. She's just started breaking out in a few occasional smiles, and there is absolutely NOTHING like seeing those moments of joy! We are looking forward to many, many more...

Heading Home

2008-08-24T15:45:00.003+01:00

Sorry once again for the extended hiatus from the blog -- I've been absent for obvious reasons, I guess, but also mainly because I've been in Noirmoutier for the past 10 days or so and we're only heading back home tomorrow... I've mostly been away from any kind of Internet access, and I honestly just haven't had the chance to log onto a computer much less check into my e-mail, etc., in ages.

Vacation has been more of just a break away from the city and things back home, but I've been spending all my time with baby Emma and adjusting to our new life together. It's so much of what everyone says: wonderful, stimulating, exciting, exhausting, and overwhelming... There is so much I love about it, but I'm also trying my hardest to try to be more zen, to not be so anxious about everything. But it's SO hard to change one's nature! And I'm definitely an anxious person (yeah, no kidding, right?!).

I'll be sure to update things around here and try to share more about my birth and delivery, as well as Emma's progress and changes, once I get back home and settle back into my routine there. Again, there is so much to share and put down for posterity, so I hope to find a few moments to write about my thoughts and feelings, as well as post more photos.

Hope everyone has been having a wonderful summer -- weather around here on the Atlantic Coast has been variable, changeant and mitigé most of the time, although we had one gorgeous day of warmth and sunshine yesterday. It didn't really make a whole lot of difference for me this year, though, as I spent most of my time inside with Emma anyway!

A très bientôt...

In Good Hands...

2008-08-07T12:33:00.004+01:00

Emma B. & the marvelous Jenn C., originally uploaded by alwaysace.

Emma B. & the marvelous Jenn C., talented artist and exceptional friend. I'm so happy that she has been by my side from the beginning of my pregnancy to give me advice and support; Jenn, I don't know what I would do without you!

And even Emma is "en extase devant Jennifer", dontcha think?! :-)

Emma B., 3 Days Old

2008-08-06T04:52:00.002+01:00

P1010837, originally uploaded by alwaysace.

My Little Bean blossomed into a beautiful flower!

Thank you to all for your wonderful comments and congratulations. I should really be in bed, but I just wanted to post this very quickly.

Hope to catch up with everyone soon... Emma is beautiful and healthy, and I'm doing my best with juggling the new mom gig at home.

More than anything, I now know what it feels like to have my heart explode with so much love.

Birth Announcement

2008-07-30T18:11:00.001+01:00

Emma

3.610 kg

6:07 pm

This Might Be It...

2008-07-30T03:56:00.003+01:00

I've been having contractions for the last 2 hours or so -- they woke me up around 2:00 a.m., and I've been trying to keep track of them since then. Oh MY, I think I'm definitely going to need the epidural...

I know, hard to believe I came on here, but it's mainly because I wanted to send out a quick message to my family in the U.S. before heading off to the clinic. But we're about to leave, so please wish us luck!

(I guess all that walking on the Champs-Elysées today might have done the job, huh, Jenn?! I may very well not need to be induced in the end...)

See you on the other side... So to speak!

Busy, Busy... But Slowing Down

2008-07-26T12:12:00.002+01:00

The last couple of weeks have been a bit hectic, although gradually I've been slowing down and my body has been telling me that I just can't do as much as I would like... Whereas two weeks ago I was running around town and my boyfriend kept telling me that I was overdoing it, these days I can hardly get out the door. Or, let's just say that it's been that way since yesterday morning in particular... Thank goodness my boyfriend managed to finally get his hands on the car he's buying used from his sister, so we now officially have wheels and a way to get to the clinic when the time comes; plus, we also made a trip up to Le Havre on Tuesday and finally got our hands on a few things that his sister left for us, including a transat, a carseat for the first few months, and a couffin, which was the key thing we really needed -- especially since we still haven't decided on a crib yet!

I got to visit with some of my dearest friends over the past few weeks as well, although I haven't managed to see as many people as I would have liked -- I still have a list of buddies who I was hoping to see before the baby arrives! Please know that I'm thinking of you all... But it looks like that just isn't going to happen... Especially since things seem to have taken a "turn" of some kind since my doctor's appointment yesterday morning. After she, ahem, examined me in that way that is beyond uncomfortable at the end of the pregnancy (I have no idea how else to describe it!) she actually said, "Ah, ça y est, j'y suis arrivée..." I couldn't figure out what she meant, so I asked her, and she just said that she had managed to touch the baby's head, and that the Little Bean is in the right position at this point, although still a bit high -- not yet down very low... But since then, it feels like the baby may have lowered a bit, because I've been feeling a lot more pressure down there since the appointment -- plus, for hours after that, I felt particularly weak and strange. She told me to continue walking, so I trekked down from the Place de Clichy to Galeries Lafayette to get myself a nice towel to take to the clinic with me. The shops had all just opened, and it's extremely rare that I find myself in the department stores when there are so few people -- very nice for a change! But as I paid for my bathtowel, on sale thank goodness, the saleslady looked at me and asked me if I was OK; granted, I was feeling exhausted all of a sudden, so I accepted her offer to sit down for a rest before leaving... A short time later, I headed out and met my boyfriend for lunch in the 17th, near Pont Cardinet. Then I went back home... and rested pretty much for the rest of the day.

So this morning I believe I may have lost the mucous plug (sorry to be so graphic!). My understanding is that this isn't necessarily a sign of an imminent delivery, per se, because it can happen a couple days before the arrival of the baby, but it's usually a sign that something is going on! And in any case, ever since I woke up this morning, I still don't feel like my regular self. I'm not exactly having contractions, although I think I had a few last night before going to bed, but I still feel really weak and wonky. I want to scrub the kitchen floor, but at the same time all I want to do is lay back down on the bed. My boyfriend said he's going to help me out with things, and he has been particularly sweet for the last few days, but I feel like I'm somehow losing control here... Plus, I had hoped to get out today to buy another breastfeeding bra, as the one I've been wearing just feels too tight and like it doesn't have enough room in it. I guess I'm just going to have to make do with it until after the delivery, though, as I don't think I have the energy to make the trip on my own.

Basically, I do believe that the Little Bean's arrival is imminent... My doctor told me to come in to the clinic for a monitoring on Monday afternoon with my sage-femme, and if the conditions are all in order, they may plan to induce me on Wednesday... That is, if I haven't given birth by then! My OB told me she thought it might happen this weekend or on Monday, so I guess at this point it's all just a big waiting game.

I only have one tiny request: please cross your fingers for me that it doesn't start happening tomorrow night, as my boyfriend is working all night long...! So that basically means that I need for things to happen today, tomorrow morning or on Monday. Anyone want to make any bets?!

(But of course I know one can't determine these things in advance, unless of course I am induced!)

Ah, the waiting game... It's definitely not fun.

Prepared? Yeah, right!

2008-07-06T17:04:00.008+01:00

NOTE: This post is more than a bit outdated, as I wrote most of it two weeks ago, and then -- silly me! -- never wrapped it up and "published" it here on the blog... But just thought I would do so now, before moving on to my latest thoughts...

****

Boy, I'm so tired of that question already, and I guess I've been getting it for weeks: "Are you ready?" "Are you prepared? Have you done everything?" And I never know whether people mean physically, mentally, emotionally or just materialistically prepared... I guess it's a combination of all of these, of course. And I know that it's meant with the best of intentions. But how can one ever be really and truly prepared for such an experience, and is there really ONE tried-and-true, specific way of preparing yourself?! Who knows...

Okay, so the past few days I have been spending a lot of my time preparing the baby clothes for the maternité and just trying to take my time washing them, folding them, and putting away as much as possible in the one piece of furniture I have for the baby so far -- the mint-green dresser! I quite like it, although the quality is obviously not fabulous -- it's pretty-much the same as Ikea-quality, but I guess I couldn't expect much more than that for the price I paid. Still, I'm hesitating about the matching bed, and I have a feeling the decision won't be made before the Little Bean arrives. In the meantime, I'm bound and determined to get us either a couffin or a landau, barring an actual combination stroller. My boyfriend did finally make it up to his sister's place in Lille this past weekend and drove back in her car, that he will be buying from her used -- so we officially have wheels again, and therefore a way to get to the clinic on the Big Day! But apparently her baby's stroller was in pretty bad condition and didn't seem to be working very well, so my boyfriend said to forget about it... Which leads us back to square one in that department. I think we may very well end up buying our own stroller; I may bite the bullet and convince him to go with me at the end of this week, when he finally has a couple of days off and we can go to a shop or two. But managing to convince him to go to some shops with me will be quite the challenge, to say the least...

So no, my life is not very exciting right now, but that's OK (and of course that will change any time now!). I'm feeling the constant need for rest anyway, and I'm also feeling excessively lazy -- it's insane! I keep telling myself I need to be doing more housecleaning (story of my life -- how many times have I mentioned this before?!) but all I want to do is kick back, relax and read, get my mind off my worries and just not think too much at this point. I put off going to bed at night, though, and I'm becoming more and more nocturnal; I'm really going to have to kick this habit soon, as I will regret it later on... But I think it's psychological, because now when I go to bed at night, I either wake up really early in the morning, or whenever I do wake up, I'm aching all over, mainly in my back, my feet and my hands, strangely enough. I get that my feet are swelling and I may be retaining some water (mental note: really need to watch my salt intake a bit better, I guess!), and also that no matter what I do, I can't seem to stay asleep in the right position at night, but what's with the achey hands?! Is the swelling thing meant to apply to ALL extremities, and not just my feet? In any case, I find myself occasionally cracking my knuckles during the day -- which I know is far from pretty, much less healthy, and not exactly a recommended little habit to be acquiring. But it seems to temporarily ease the pain, so...

Yes, there you have it, my blog has officially transformed into one of the expat expectant mommy blogs -- I guess this has been coming for a while! I try to alternate posts and talk about other things, but obviously this is what my life is revolving around right now, so what can I do? No matter what I read, the subject is always there in the back of my mind. For example, when I read last week's French Elle horoscope, I almost fell off my seat in the RER -- you see, my birthday falls on August 22, so I'm right "on the cusp", as they say, of both Leo and Virgo. I often jokingly like to say in French that I'm "Lion, presque Vierge" -- not too many out there who can say that, right?! In any case, these days I don't even know which sign to read, because Elle has stopped Leo at August 21st, whereas all my life I've pretty much considered myself more of a Leo than a Virgo. But I guess my personality is a mix of both... Then again, it's not as if I take all that much stock in horoscope predictions, trust me! It's just that on occasion I find them uncannily accurate... For example, in the week from June 30th to July 6th, Lion says: "... si vous ne partez pas encore en vacances, relâcher la pression, celle que vous mettez sur les autres... et sur vous. De votre capacité à vous détendre et à accepter les choses telles qu'elles sont dépendent vos succès futurs [!!!!]. Nés autour du 21 août [!!], agissez pour le changement."

Um, sorta kinda makes you stop and think, non ? I mean, trust me, with getting out to spend time with friends, I've definitely been making time to relax, but admittedly I'm the worst about "accepting things the way they are" -- I'm always wanting to somehow "fix" things at the last minute, and I'm definitely not a planner. I know this is kindof the stars' way of telling me that I'm going to have to learn to live with things being less-than-perfect for a while!

And if that one wasn't uncanny enough, read Virgo's from the same week (keeping in mind that I have usually considered myself more of a Leo up until now, but again, this was freaky nonetheless...): "... ne cherchez pas à tout résoudre, procédez par étapes. Nés autour du 24 août, préparez-vous, la semaine prochaine peut être importante [!!!!]." Of course, since then, that week has come and gone, and the "big event" hasn't happened yet -- but STILL, at the time it surprised me to read that!

****

People also keep asking us if we're going to be leaving on vacation, and obviously that hinges on the baby's arrival: due date being the end of July, early August, there's just no way of knowing when the Little Bean will officially pop out! I really hope that we will be able to head down to the Atlantic Coast for at least a couple weeks after the birth, but I imagine it all depends on how well the delivery goes, and obviously the baby's and my health afterwards. Although the sage-femme did say last week that normally a week to 10 days after birth was plenty of time to allow before going away, I'm just wondering how I will be handling everything. So no predictions at this point... It would be SO nice to get away from the city and to enjoy the ocean a bit after the baby's birth, but again, I'm obviously going to focus on making sure everything just goes well before thinking about all of that...

Oh, and I looked a bit into both the Bum Genius and Fuzzi Bunz cloth diapers -- and OH my WORD, I must have been living on another planet, because I had NO IDEA how expensive they were going to be! Then again, I know a baby goes through a heck of a lot of disposables in one day, so I imagine the cloth diapers are not only the better long-term investment, leading to less spending in the long run, but they are also so much better for the environment. But *gulp* that first order is going to be painful, to say the least! Aimée has given me some good advice in that department as well, so I may plan on putting through an order for a starter kit to give the Bum Genius diapers a try, and have my parents bring them over from the U.S. when they come to visit in September...

In the meantime, I'm busy preparing my valise for the clinic, for both myself and the Little Bean. I've been dragging this out, though, and still need a few things from the pharmacy. I hope to wrap that all up very soon!

Down to the Wire... 36 Weeks!

2008-07-01T15:30:00.002+01:00

I was sitting here eating my requisite daily apple and peanut butter (don't ask me how much I spent on a tiny container of Skippy last week -- I feel guilty enough as it is! -- and I keep eating it straight out of the container...) when I thought I should probably finally get around to making an update on my blog, and more specifically a pregnancy update! The baby's been moving around quite a bit for the last few hours, whereas usually the Little Bean saves his/her jigging around for nighttime, just when I'm climbing into bed. The sage-femme told us yesterday, at my last birth preparation class, that this is pretty much always the way it works -- for some reason the baby's clock is exactly opposite our own, so as we go about our daily activities, the Little Bean sleeps away, pretty much through everything, and then wakes up when we're heading off to bed.

And I've now officially hit that tough period I was dreading -- yep, the insomnia period. I had been forewarned by numerous friends, and of course the recent heatwave isn't helping. Trust me, I'm not complaining -- I'm as happy as the next gal that we've finally got some sunshine in the City of Light -- but the heat is definitely not pleasant when you're pregnant, and even less so when you're pregnant and have to take public transportation, which has fast become my nemesis. Thank goodness most people are nice enough to give me a seat at this point, but it's not always the case.

So last night, for the second night in a row, I tossed and turned for nearly 2 hours before passing out, and waking up, per my usual, on my back. Recently I've been going to bed on my left side, with this supportive "pregnancy" cushion propped up against my back and several pillows under my calves. But then of course by morning the cushions and pillows are all on the floor, and I'm flat on my back. Oh well... I have no idea how other gals do it, but maybe their beds are up against a wall or something... In any case, I almost got up and moved to the sofa last night, as my boy fell fast asleep right away, immediately after we didn't settle our disagreement as to whether to leave the window open or not. I need the air, otherwise I feel like I'm broiling away in an oven, but at the same time, in spite of the fact that we're on the third floor, the street gets pretty noisy at night (we're in the centre ville of our town, and apparently it's unavoidable) so leaving the windows open is not the best option either. Last night I seriously thought I was going to slam open the shutters and start screaming at the hoodlums in the street, racing their stupid scooters up and down and making all kinds of who-knows-what kind of noise after midnight. I know it would have been pointless, but my hormones almost got the better of me... I swear, how satisfying would it have felt to scream, "Foutez le camp, foutez-nous la paix, il y a des gens qui essaient de DORMIR, bande de cons !!"?!

Enfin, I digress... And basically I would never have the balls to do such a thing anyway. I finally made it to sleep, but not without some effort, but the only thing that saves me is the fact that I can sleep in in the morning at this point, if I really need to, even though I don't like wasting the day away in bed with all that has to be done in the next few weeks... Then again, here I am now in front of the computer, so I'm not exactly making much progress here either!

So yesterday was my last birth preparation class at the clinic where I will be delivering the Little Bean in Paris, and up until now I have to admit I've been a bit disappointed in things... Well, overall everything has been going fine, but I couldn't help but think we were racing through so much information, and there was hardly any time to ask any questions, much less enough time to take actual notes during each jam-packed session. They've consolidated each 2 1/2 hour session of three classes so that we won't have to make the trips in to the clinic as often, and I totally understand this (granted, I don't know if I would have liked having to make the trip back and forth 8 times rather than only 3...) but at the same time, it's all just terribly overwhelming for first-time moms! Thank goodness at this point in my life in France I have a pretty good grasp of the language, because I know that otherwise things would be even harder. Then again, I don't know that even language understanding will make much of a difference on the Big Day, as I have a feeling most of the expletives will be coming out in my native tongue as I struggle through the contractions...

And I'm at the stage where I'm trying not to think about delivery too much, as I've heard SO MANY different things, and I know that it can be so different for everyone. Aside from the fact that I realize it will be painful, and that this is unavoidable, I just wonder how far along I will be able to make it before I beg for the epidural, and whether I'll even recognize the actual labor contractions -- I mean, I imagine they must be pretty clear when the due date becomes imminent, but then again I've heard about so many false alerts that I just don't know what to expect... In the meantime, I've found that actually reading less has made me feel better than reading more, and as much as I've always been of the mind that informing oneself is important, this is one area where I wonder if staying in the murky end isn't a little bit better! It's funny, because even the sage-femme pointed out yesterday that in the Western world we tend to intellectualize the experience, as well as breastfeeding, and we think about it so much that it tends to make it even more difficult. I don't know how true that actually is, but it seems to make sense to me! I do hope that things will come naturally, but again, I'm trying to be both pragmatic and realistic, figuring that I will take things as they come: J'essaie de faire confiance à la vie, pour une fois !

For the first time yesterday, after class was over, I ran into a couple of the futures mamans in front of the elevator on my way out of the building... I had been so disappointed up until now mainly because I painfully felt the lack of contact and communication among moms-to-be, and my American side was aching for some interaction, some camaraderie, quoi ! I've adjusted to many elements of life in France, but I think this is something I will always miss, and I do admit that I relish the opportunities I get to meet up with fellow anglophones to chat about all kinds of things. On occasion I've been able to do this with French gals, but deep down I'm obviously American and that will never change -- so I find that I'm more myself when I'm with other Americans. But it was so funny, because these two gals were talking about how the classes threw so much medical information at us, how overwhelming and intimidating they were, how fast the sage-femme spoke, how everyone else seemed to know exactly what was going on... It was crazy, because they were basically voicing every single thought that I had had running through my head! It felt SO GOOD to finally share things, to commiserate and bond a bit. They were both super-sweet, and I only wish we could have exchanged numbers and gotten together. But alas -- that kind of thing just doesn't happen as easily here... I had an appointment with my anesthésiste just after the class, so we did chat for nearly a half-hour before I headed back upstairs, exchanging ideas and suggestions for baby equipment shopping, advice for various ills (namely the heartburn -- the one gal told me about Rennie Chew, which she said was not as unpleasant as the Gaviscon -- take note!), and our upcoming due dates, whether the babies would arrive early or late, etc...

The funniest thing was that the one gal, who was super-adorable, had practically the same due date as me, only off by a day, and her belly was definitely MUCH bigger! I've been reassured numerous times that the size of the belly doesn't necessarily mean anything, but it's still always surprising for me to compare how differently my body has changed to those of other moms-to-be. Most people think I'm only 6 months along at this point, whereas I'm nearing the beginning of my 9th month! But she said that her baby had been pressing down on her cervix for a few weeks now, and that she has been having contractions already, fairly often even. This really surprised me... The other gal was hilarious, very frank and friendly, and she even admitted to being psychologically nervous about things, to the extent that she had practically passed out in birth preparation class at the clinic last week, when all the information was being thrown at us! She had just found out that she has to watch her sugar intake, though, for a diabetes issue, and that this was a challenge -- I know it would be for me too, especially since I have such a sweet tooth and have been eating far too much chocolate and ice cream over the past couple months. Ooops! I've been told that I've put on about 13 kilos at this point, but I do want to keep an eye on my weight gain over the next few weeks...

And as to the baby equipment -- well, believe it or not, I haven't made a whole heck of a lot more progress in that department from a month ago, I'm embarrassed to say. I scoped out some shops at the beginning of the sales but was really disappointed with what I found. Natalys only ended up having the support cushion I bought, as well as some cute clothes for the baby (that I definitely didn't need!). I still want to make a trip back to Aubert at les Grands Boulevards, but I've probably already missed the really good deals... One of the gals I met yesterday mentioned a big baby shop in the 17th on rue St. Ferdinand, so I may try to make it there sometime before the end of this week as well... The baby dresser I ordered from Vertbaudet finally arrived today, so now I just need to put it together (or beg my boy to do so -- we'll see how tough it is!) and then wash the baby clothes. My goal before the end of this week is to put together the bulk of my maternity suitcase, for the baby and me both, and to have the baby's clothes washed and stored away. Speaking of which: when I went through the bags this past weekend, I realized that I had fallen into the same trap that people had warned me about ahead of time -- far too many 1-month and 3-month things!! ARGH. So I'm definitely going to have to let people know to bring us older-sized clothes if they'd like to get us anything... Not to mention the fact that my mom pointed out, which is that if it's super-hot in August, I guess the baby will mostly only be in diapers and little onesies most of the time! So I won't need much. And I'm so afraid that some of the adorable outfits I have will go to waste! Oh well, guess I'll have to wait and see...

On that note, I just had to share this little nugget from a conversation I had with my boyfriend this morning: he mentioned that we may very well need to get a table à langer, which I agreed with, although originally I had thought a little mattress on top of the dresser would be fine, but now I'm not so sure... Just the fact that he mentioned the changing table was an improvement, trust me! As it is, we still need to pick up the carseat from my office (one of the diplomats was returning to Japan and asked me if I'd like to have it -- and obviously my answer was of course!), as well as figure out the bed issue... But then he went on to say, "Et on aura besoin d'un pot aussi, n'est-ce pas ?" I turned and looked at him quizzically. "Un pot ? Eh, je pense qu'on a le temps pour ça, un bébé n'apprend pas à aller sur le pot avant au moins un an, un an et demi..." And then he went on to say that no, he seriously thought it would be better to start earlier, like before 9 months! I started laughing and muttered that maybe he might want to get reading a little bit himself, because it sounds like he has a lot to learn. And here I thought *I* was bad!! I think he might want to learn how to change a diaper before purchasing a potty... What do you think?!

Dad on My Mind

2008-06-15T13:34:00.009+01:00

It's not very often that I write what might be considered a "timely" post, but this one just came to me naturally, after reading about Polly's father over at Polly-Vous Français...

There is no specific anecdote that comes to mind, but my memories of my father growing up are all of a smiling man who was almost always in a good mood, and loved to share a bowl of popcorn with me while we watched one of our favorite TV programs together, even in my twenties when that program was more than likely Seinfeld or Law & Order. My father and I have the sort of unspoken bond that is simply impossible to describe or explain; it's just there. I understand it, and I feel it, but I can never really put it into words. He can make me laugh with a certain expression on his face, or simply by looking at me and smirking in that funny way of his... I can pull up snippets of our time together in my mind, freeze-frame them and just remember the laughter, the warmth, and the security he has always brought me when we're together. There's just something reassuring about my father's presence that I definitely miss like a hole in my heart so often here in France. And I've often said that my dad gives the absolute best hugs in the world, and they're truly one of the things I look forward to the MOST when I go back home to the U.S. for a visit.

My boyfriend often comments on the fact that I've adapted fairly well to my life in France, and more specifically to the distance between my family and me. As much as he loves the U.S. himself, and American culture, he points out that he couldn't imagine putting so much distance between himself and his immediate family... They're very close, and speak by phone pretty much daily, even more so since his mother passed away two years ago. Obviously I miss my family and friends back home, but I guess somehow I've seen this distance as a force that has helped me to grow and evolve as a woman, to become stronger and more independent more than anything else. And obviously now that I'm going to be bringing my own first child into the world, I think more and more about this distance and it worries me much more now than it ever did before. I do wish my family was around the corner or at least a short enough distance away so that they could be here in a heartbeat if I needed them. But, of course, I made the choice to live here, to put down my roots in France, several years ago, and moving back to the U.S. is not really something I have in mind, nor a real option, for the immediate future. Besides, for the most part, in spite of the everyday challenges (and growing cost!) of living in France, I really do love it here, and it has become my home in more ways than one. Even if I AM constantly learning something new, in both the language and cultural departments! But I have faith that we'll somehow figure out a way to make it all work out...

But, ahem, as usual, I've gotten sidetracked...

From as far back as I can remember, my father has been the guiding force in my family life, even if he was the least vocal presence, or just a calm, quiet form of reassurance. I inherited the gift of gab from my mother, but sometimes I wish I could be as strong, reserved and solid as my father, in his quiet, unique way. How else can I describe him? Again, bits and pieces come to mind more than anything else: his voracious appetite, often taking seconds and thirds at the dinner table and complimenting my mother on her cooking skills (but somehow never putting on any extra weight around the middle!); his love of pepper on pretty much anything and everything, a culinary preference that somehow I DID manage to inherit and find myself applying to more and more of my favorite dishes; his work ethic, putting in long days at work and then coming home to fall asleep in front of the evening news, the evening paper spread out on his lap, and a light snore growing into what my mom jokingly would refer to as a saw; and his favorite weekend pastimes of washing and waxing his car, which over the years evolved from a Chevy Nova to a Jeep Cherokee and more recently a Ford Explorer, as my parents adopted the American attachment to 4X4s, an apparent "necessity" on certain parts of the East Coast in the winter, and in the summertime, mowing the lawn, now even more of a hobby since he acquired a riding mower that allows him to mow the larger amount of land around their small rancher house.

These days I imagine my father indulging in his favorite hobbies, namely watching baseball in the summer months and football in the winter (although I think baseball will always remain his ultimate favorite), and spending hours paging through coin collecting books in order to find that one elusive hidden treasure to add to his own burgeoning collection, a passion he has had since his own childhood. My father never used to talk very much about this pastime, but more recently he has shared some of his special "finds" and the playfulness and mischief in his eyes when he recounts a coin-collecting tale always make me smile... Particularly when I know he has finally been able to indulge this interest even more in recent years, now that us kids are all grown up and have flown the coop.

My parents also adopted a little beagle a few years ago, Ginger (that's her posing so endearingly in the photo above!) and she has become a major part of their lives as well -- more the princess of the castle, shall we say... When my dad makes his famous sandwiches in the kitchen, she comes running, hoping for a snippet of something from the table. When I was home for a visit a few years back she came bounding out on the back porch and literally stole my sandwich right out of my hands before I could even stop her! As infuriating as she can be at times, and as much as my parents (particularly my mother) seem to indulge her, I know she has brought a lot of happiness to their lives, so I could certainly never begrudge them that... And if anything, when I come home now her presence is a good excuse to get my dad and I out walking together around the neighborhood, lost in our thoughts and exchanging a few thoughts and memories as we explore the area and he tells me about their local haunts.

I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to share the origin behind my "pseudonym", so to speak, here at my blog -- Ace is a nickname my father gave me when I was a little girl, albeit not one that he used particularly often. But he would occasionally pull it out in a moment of congratulations or encouragement, when he most wanted to let me know how much he believed in me... So a few years back, when I was setting up a new e-mail address, the words "Always Ace" just made sense, as it's a nickname that will always remain engraved in my mind as a mental and emotional reminder of my father's presence in my life, no matter where I may be living. I don't think anyone has ever put as much confidence in my capabilities as my father, and I can find no words to adequately express my gratitude for his presence in my life, for his smile and laughter in the toughest of moments, for his steadfast unconditional love. I know that no matter what happens, he wouldn't hesitate to get on a plane and be here in a flash, and I can't wait until he and my mom do exactly that after my Little Bean arrives later this summer...

Thank you, Dad, for just being you.

Baby Equipment?

2008-06-13T12:15:00.003+01:00

Hello all expat mommies out there! I'm a bit embarrassed to post this, but then again I thought, what the heck?! Isn't that what we're all here for, exchanging advice and information, tips and counseling? And you've all been such a great resource in the past...

I've made it clear already in several of my posts how pathetically unprepared I feel about this whole mommy thing, and I imagine I'm not the only one out there, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get on the ball. One thing is certain: I've been getting in quite a lot of rest over the past few days, since I officially started my maternity leave on Wednesday -- or that is, my congé pathologique, which is apparently systematic in France these days if you're working and particularly if you're commuting to work, as I've been doing for months now. So my maternity leave started just a couple weeks earlier than originally expected. Admittedly the trip back and forth was becoming a bit tiring, although honestly I know it could have been a lot worse too. But now that I'm home, I know I have a million things to do and get done, and yet I don't even know where to begin! And seriously, a lot of you North American gals would probably be shocked if you knew how very little I have done at this point... I'm seriously flying off the seat of my pants here! (I have no idea how many times I've said that in the past few weeks, but it's true...)

I was just wondering if any of you all had some advice in the equipment arena -- I know there's always eBay, but I'm a complete novice in that department, and I just don't know how I feel about ordering stuff on there at this point. My one sister-in-law is going to be passing on quite a few things to us secondhand, which is one of the primary reasons why I haven't really bought very much yet. We'll be getting a transat from her, as well as lots of things like blankets, etc... She also promised us a bassinet or berceau of some kind for the first few months, but now, as it turns out, she may not make it up here in time before the birth to bring us the baby bed (she lives near Besançon). So I'm trying to consider all my options and make a kind of quick, last-minute decision... I'm getting mixed signals about Ikea -- I know some gals out there have found some nice things there, but just the other day I was told that their baby furniture/equipment selection is pretty limited. Plus, I'm not too keen on white furniture, which seems to be what they primarily have in stock -- but I guess that's just me!

I did end up ordering that little green dresser from the French Vertbaudet website, and hopefully it will be shipped to us in a few weeks' time. That will cover me for some clothing storage, at least for a start... And I think I can even use it as a changing table of sorts, as I can put a sort of changing pad on top of the dresser. Then again, I'm not so sure about the height of the dresser itself... Will have to see once it arrives. But is there an all-in-one place/shop where I can pick up basics like a changing pad, etc.? And as I know the French summer sales are starting soon (officially June 25th, if I'm not mistaken) I'm also trying to hold out to see if I can get some deals -- although that will also be cutting things close, with my due date set for August 5th...

I guess my big question is this (And I imagine a lot of you are going to think, isn't this all listed in a bunch of baby books out there? And maybe it is, but I also have to sheepishly admit to the fact that I have only read the bare minimum, as every time I got to reading the baby books, my stress levels would only skyrocket more... So the next few weeks may or may not be spent catching up on my baby reading!): what baby equipment/material must I absolutely have on hand for the birth, without question? Obviously I know I need the basic newborn onesies, and I've got quite a few of those, as well as diapers (and that's another big question mark, as I want to do cloth diapers but haven't sufficiently researched the subject yet either...)... A few months back I bought a few used items, including a Baby Bjorn, a bottle sterilizer, a manual breast pump (as I want to breastfeed and have no idea yet whether I will be able to do so!), and some other small items, but that's about it! Andie told me a bit about BumGenius cloth diapers, and I'm wondering whether I should order a few on Amazon as a start. If I want to try to do a combination of both cloth and disposable at the beginning (as I have no idea whether my boyfriend and I will be able to handle the maintenance and responsibility of 100% cloth), how many cloth diapers should I expect to have on hand? And which ones do you gals all recommend, besides the BumGenius kind?

I belong to the Paris chapter of Freecycle, and I'm planning on perhaps making a callout for any newborn baby equipment, as well as cloth diapers, as I've seen quite a few other gals make this request in recent times... I have some things of my own to give away, and now that I have a bit more time on my hands, I want to be sure to share the things that we have that we no longer need, which include an extra iron, and an older Senseo coffeemaker that still works, but not very well... I also have quite a few clothes, shoes and books that I think could find a new home, so I want to go through those and try to pass them on as well.

[Also, I need to get back in touch with another Freecycle member who offered me a baby bath a few months back; I need to try to pick that up as soon as possible, if it's still available!]

Any and all advice is totally welcome here, and I would be extremely grateful for all you can share with me. And again, I apologize if this seems like a crazy thing to post! I just want to find a starting point, or maybe some firm footing at this point, as all I'm thinking about these days is how much I haven't done instead of all I have perhaps done, or the simple fact that the pregnancy has been going well so far... And I do hope and pray it will continue to do so! I guess I just feel a bit at loose ends here, because even though I have a few really great expat friends in the area, I just hate to pester them all with my questions and fears...

Thanks so much in advance for your advice, tips and input!

P.S. ~ A great American colleague of mine also told me about Message months ago, and silly me, I put off sending in the membership form. I've got that on the way now (quite late, I know!) and I realize that this organization is also an excellent resource, particularly for breastfeeding, so I'm hoping to touch base with them at least a few times before the baby arrives. I also met a breastfeeding consultant at a recent event I attended through my SCBWI participation, and I'm looking forward to speaking with her in the future about breastfeeding as well.

Ultrasound Scenes

2008-06-06T15:05:00.003+01:00

I had my last ultrasound visit a little over a week ago (at least the last official one anyway!) and all appears to be in order at this point... I've hit my 32nd week, folks, and my Little Bean is apparently already "in position" -- meaning, his/her little head is down below, bum is up in the air, and legs are curled underneath. Ready to go, when the time is right -- now it's all a question of patience! And we're talking probably eight more weeks of patience, unless my wee one wants to come into the world a little early -- which I wouldn't mind all that much, as long as it's not too early! I'm still feeling movements like crazy, at certain times of the day, and it's entertaining to try to figure out exactly what's going on in there: was that an an elbow? A kick? Yikes, I feel this strong pressure pushing up into my diaphragm, and the doctor told me that's probably when the little guy is pushing up on his bottom! This often seems to happen when I go to the movies, strangely enough, and I can't help but wonder if the baby's trying to tell me that it's TOO.LOUD.OUT.THERE! (All the sound resonating from the speakers and stuff...)

Then again, I've been thinking a lot about something one of my colleagues here at work told me: she said that in fact it's apparently pretty noisy in the womb, and that when the baby is born, he/she is used to lots of sound, sort of white noise, and that you don't necessarily have to be super-quiet when the baby is sleeping, because the baby kind of LIKES noise. She said that sometimes a hairdryer can help a newborn go back to sleep! An interesting thought, really... And one I actually observed at a cocktail party I attended last Sunday, where a three-week-old newborn slept soundly on the sofa while more than 20-30 people buzzed and chattered around him. It was pretty impressive.

Some of my most memorable moments from my ultrasound visits date back a few months, but I love bringing them to mind and I thought it might be a good idea to record them here, so I can come back and read and remember one day -- especially given my terrible memory in general! Early in my pregnancy, maybe somewhere around the 4th month, my boy sent me a text message as I was on my way to visit my OB/GYN; he couldn't go with me that day as he had to work. His message read: "You give her my cell phone number and she send me a texto saying if it's a girl or a guy" HA! He so wanted to know, right from the beginning, whereas I wanted it to be a surprise... And of course it was too soon at that point anyway, so I had to quickly type back that he was going to have to wait... He's so HILARIOUS sometimes, especially the way he phrases things. My boyfriend loves speaking English and learning new words, so anytime we watch movies together he's constantly asking me to explain things -- which can be cute and/or a pain in the butt, depending on how you look at it -- and whether I've ever seen the movie before myself!

So of course the day the echographe asked us if we wanted to know the sex, I shook my head vehemently, and my boy tapped the doctor on his shoulder from behind -- he held up two slips of paper on which he had scribbled the symbols for male and female; I scolded him and muttered that the doctor probably had his own way of doing things. But thank goodness the ultrasound doctor was such a good sport -- he chuckled, leaned back a bit, and once he figured out what my boy had drawn, he pointed to the one slip of paper... A huge smile spread across my boy's face, and from that moment on he looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. He was so PROUD of that secret! I of course thought he was going to give it away in a heartbeat, or at least tell his family, but he's tried pretty hard to keep it to himself -- aside from one little slip that I'm not convinced was unintentional. As a matter of fact, I'm still not sure if he slipped up or was trying to confuse me on purpose. So let's just say that I have an inkling, but I'm still not definitely sure! And most people think I'm crazy, but I've just always wanted my first baby to be a bit of a surprise.

Two months after that visit we went back to see this doctor again so he could take a bunch of official measurements to find out if everything was on track. As he went through all the necessary steps, he recorded notes on a file in front of him and took snapshots with the machine. He checked the baby's heartbeat, the blood flow, etc... As my baby stubbornly refused to turn around and show his/her face, the doctor had to push around on my belly a bit to get the baby to move. He managed to measure the baby's nose and upper lip in profile, and commented that the baby's size was just a little above average, explaining that if ten expectant moms had been in the waiting room, only three would have babies bigger than mine (how do you react to THAT?!). I think he was trying to reassure us, as so many people had been commenting on how small my belly seemed, and how small the baby "must" be if my belly isn't so big... But he said that this wasn't a true indicator of the baby's size. At this point, my boy leaned over again and asked, deadpan, but with a twinkle in his sye, "Well, are you able to tell if the baby's nose is above average in size?" I had to swallow back a guffaw -- my boy is extremely sensitive about his nose and has this fear that the baby will inherit it... Ah, talk about entertainment!

A few days ago, I woke up one morning to find my boy holding his hand on my belly. It was FAR too early to be awake -- we're talking crack-of-dawn before the sun is up early here -- and I was struggling to get another hour's worth of sleep. Half-awake, all of a sudden I felt a prominent kick in my belly and I said, "Hey, did you feel that?" And my boy said, "Are you kidding me? This little guy's been moving around like crazy for ages now! I don't know how you can SLEEP with all that activity going on inside of you!"

It was so cute, and my heart just melted... It's moments like these that I hope I'll remember forever.

Twice in Two Years... Enough is Enough!

2008-05-16T16:22:00.001Z

Yesterday was a jumbled day in more ways than one... I had such focused plans for the day, and a to-do list (in my head anyway -- I never tend to put those things on paper!) to complete, including some more work on the children's story contest, which absolutely MUST be wrapped up in the next week so I can get the winning booklets assembled and ready for the Awards Party on the 31st. I was planning on spending a good part of my day on that, while alt-tabbing back and forth between some regular office work, and catching up on anything else in cyberspace, per my usual...

But I also had a doctor's appointment for my monthly check-up -- 7 months and counting! Although for some reason I appear to have had the due date off by a week -- my doctor has it down as August 5th, and for months now I've been calculating it as July 28th. (After all, who was there when this little bean was conceived -- her or me?!) I waited in the doctor's office for nearly 2 HOURS before I actually saw my OB/GYN. Now, I know she's in great demand and you have to expect these kinds of delays, but two hours seems to be stretching it just a wee bit. I literally fell asleep in the waiting room, if you can believe it. I was reading there for a while, but then started nodding off, surrounded by a dozen other patients waiting their turn. Each time a name was called we'd all look up, surprised that it wasn't yet our turn.

I had expected to be back to the office by 4:00, given that my appointment was at 2:30 and the cabinet médical is only 4 métro stops away. Plus, she usually has me in and out in a flash, just checking to make sure everything is on track and there are no major problems. I had a few issues to address with her, but I've learned now to make it quick... Basically just little typical pregnancy ails (trust me, you don't want to know!), and she gave me the prescriptions for all that I needed. But with the delay, I didn't make it back to the office until nearly 5:30, and all of a sudden I was incredibly behind schedule. And for once I really needed to leave on-time to make it to the SCBWI event I was attending at 7:00 -- all the way on the other side of the Seine, in the Montparnasse neighborhood.

Bridget was warm and wonderful, sharing a bit about her creative process and lots of images of her work -- both in progress and as a finished product. I fell in love with her book, How Do You Make a Baby Smile and knew I had to have it. But when I told Bridget afterwards that I wanted to buy a copy, she told me that she had hoped to give me a copy as a gift for my baby on the way, with (and this is the best part!) her signature and a drawing inside. So she's going to give it to me the next time I see her, probably at the end of the month for the Red Wheelbarrow Contest Awards Party.

Afterwards, I had dinner with a group of SCBWI France members, and headed home exhausted just before midnight -- an exceptionally late night for me these days... But unfortunately, my night was far from over, as terrible news awaited me on my arrival home. Actually, I got a call from my boy when I was in the train, and he had just arrived himself after spending the evening with his father. When he told me what had happened, I was immediately distraught, and completely oblivious to the stares from people around me... He kept saying he was hoping that it was only an attempted break-in, because he couldn't get into the apartment and couldn't yet tell if anything had been taken. But I already knew that he was holding out hope for nothing -- it was clear that it was a burglary. The locks were mangled, just as they had been nearly two years ago in July, barely 6 months or so after we moved into the place. You'd think we would have learned our lesson the first time around... But life gets away from you, and even if the first 6 months after that burglary left us both skittish and suspicious of basically everyone in our neighborhood, a year later we had other things on our minds, namely my boy's heart attack, and then after that my pregnancy...

So many thoughts whirled around in my head as the train dragged its way from one station to the next... What had they taken this time? How bad was the damage? Did they only take insignificant, replaceable things or did they take anything and everything of any sentimental value? I kept trying to tell myself to be rational, to put things in perspective, as obviously the most important thing is that we are safe, healthy and that no one is hurt... physically, anyway. But that still didn't stop me from picturing the worst, and knowing somehow that we wouldn't have gotten off scot free one way or another. Why hadn't we moved sooner? Why hadn't we gotten our butts in gear and made a move HAPPEN? Why had I hemmed and hawed for so long on the few apartments I HAD visited and not made a decision? Why am I so gosh-darn indecisive, PERIOD? My one small consolation, I told myself, was that I had for some random reason grabbed my digital camera that morning, at the last minute as I was running out the door, thinking I might take a few pictures at the SCBWI event. I also had my iPod in my bag, as well as my most important documents... I feared the possible dissappearance of my U.S. Passport, which I don't keep on me at all times, but miraculously they didn't take that, possibly not knowing what value it may have. Or what do I know? Maybe these days people don't steal passports anymore...

In the end, the burglary definitely could have been worse -- things can always be worse, right? But more than anything else, I've come through these experiences feeling like it's definitely a violation of our intimacy, our security... Everything you can imagine it to be, only worse when it actually happens... The drawers turned upside down, clothes -- lingerie, for God's sake -- everywhere, on the floor, scattered on every surface. And on my dresser, where I keep the few pieces of jewelry I own in small pouches in a wooden box, things were topsy-turvy, and I had to go through one by one and see what they had taken. The bedroom is apparently where they spent most of their time, going meticulously through my things to find that rare piece that might actually be worth something. Because trust me, most of my jewelry is sentimentally precious to me, but nothing more than costume jewelry, or sterling silver, my one small luxury. But I do have -- or check that, I did have some gold rings from my childhood, namely one tiny gold signet ring my grandmother gave me when I was 10 years old, with my initials on it, and another ring that once belonged to my grandmother. As well as some earrings that I don't actually wear that often but still held a certain value.

What can you do in these cases? You try to make an inventory of what's missing in order to give it to the police in your statement, and then of course to the insurance company for any possible reimbursement. But unfortunately, this time around, all that was taken was jewelry I've had for years but held onto, once again, more for sentimental value than anything else (also more than likely because we really don't own much of value -- how reassuring is that, huh?!). So I don't have any receipts, nor any recent photos of my wearing the pieces. So no chance of recouping anything for them from the insurance company.

In any case, more than anything else I was just numb from the whole mess, and my stomach was tied in knots. I thought I might get sick last night before finally crawling into bed, but I did finally manage to fall asleep somewhere around 3:00. This morning I woke up feeling not much better, and I knew it was pointless for me to try to go in to work. I rarely call in sick anyway, but this was just one of those times when it had to be done... For my own mental sanity more than anything else. And I needed to get some extra rest as well -- I'm glad I laid down for a while, because a few hours later I started feeling a bit better. My boy took care of the major formalities, including the official statement at the police station as well as the phone calls to our insurance provider and to the locksmith, who spent several hours this afternoon installing a new, heftier system on our door, although it's far from a guaranteed form of protection from any future break-ins. We can only pray that we will be out of here before that happens again...

Because more than anything else, there's that one French expression that just keeps trotting through my mind, and no matter how hard I try I can't seem to get rid of it: "Jamais deux sans trois..." Say it ain't so.

On the Road Again

2008-05-02T14:30:00.001Z

Tuesday evening I was chatting away with Jenn on the phone when she mentioned that she would be making a little road trip to visit dear Doc of 10, rue de la Charme on May 1st, France's own Labor Day. She wondered if I would be up for joining her on the road for a little adventure and lots of laughter... The clincher to the deal, of course, was that my boyfriend would have the opportunity to knock himself out playing tennis with her husband, while I could goof away the day guilt-free with my pal Jenn. So everyone would come out happy!

And what a day -- full of more silliness and tummy-clutching laughter than I ever could have imagined -- and I'm tellin' ya, I think the baby got a little exercise in there as a result! Armed with what we thought would be a fistful of fun music to keep us company (which fell short as for some reason the car's CD player was on the fritz... Mr. C?!), as well as lots of bottled water, we hit the road fairly bright and early, chattering away for the first half of the trip. I thought the car would put me to sleep, as it tends to do more and more these days, but for some reason I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yesterday morning, in spite of the lack of caffeine beforehand. My mood really varies from one day to the next!

After locating Doc, the three of us piled into the local brasserie/restaurant, pretty much the only place open on that hallowed workers' day off, and wound up spending the next three hours laughing until tears rolled down our cheeks. I seriously thought the baby might wonder what the heck was going on, because just the day before I had been falling asleep with exhaustion after returning home from work, and here I was guffawing while downing enormous garlic-infused shrimp and glass after glass of -- yes, that's right, water! [What did you think? That I was downing WINE while pregnant? I'm not THAT French, my friends...]

One of the highlights of the afternoon came in the form of the following exchange, which I have faithfully reproduced for your entertainment. Now, just imagine the scene: seated around an ordinary café table are us three gals from North America, drawing all kinds of stares from the local village Frenchies because of our raucous laughter and more than likely the ENGLISH we were speaking... We've just finished our main dishes and, while trying to disguise the hilarity our burping older neighbor is causing us (seriously, you'd think he was having a competition back there, all by his lonesome!), are contemplating the dessert menu. These days dessert pretty much consists of one word for me: C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E, so I was leaning towards a chocolat liegeois, as ice cream was a definite requirement as well. When Doc said she was going to order another particular ice cream speciality of the house, I took a closer look at the menu and realized I might be missing out...

Doc: Yeah, I'm gonna go with the *****.

Me: The *****? Hmm, what's in that? [Looking down I see that not only is there chocolate in that concoction, but coconut as well...] Oooo, I'm going to have to have one of those too!

Jenn: That'll make it three.

Me: Trois *****!! Wait -- who's going to order that?!

[We fall all over ourselves once again as we realize the awkwardness of the order and how pathetically hilarious it sounds... Trust me, at this point it didn't take much to send us into fits of laughter -- we're seriously lucky they didn't kick us out for rowdiness!]

Doc: Seriously, you do the honors!

Me: No way! I couldn't even get that out if I tried!

Jenn: [between gasps] Come on, you know you want to!

Just then, the waitress came over to take our dessert order.

Waitress: Et qu'est-ce qui vous ferait plaisir, mesdames ?

[Ah, the choice of phrasing -- of course! We all looked at each other, completely incapable of holding back the laughter -- I swallowed hard and knew I couldn't get it out without making a complete fool out of myself...]

[....]

(The waitress continued to stare down at us patiently yet uncomprehendingly.)

Doc: Trois africaines, s'il vous plaît. [Through gritted teeth -- and then turning to me.] Wimp!!

[Cue laughter once again...]

We gobbled those babies up in mere seconds, and even now I'm regretting not getting a photo of those bowls of perfection...

* Disclaimer: No offense was intended by this exchange! I know it's not exactly PC, but you have to admit it would be funny for ANYONE to have to make such an order in a restaurant!*

My Favorite Children's (Picture) Books

2008-04-25T15:39:00.006Z

Time is flying by, and I have to sheepishly admit that I've been very slack about preparing for the actual arrival of our baby -- in less than three months' time (and that's if he/she decides to arrive on time!). Granted, I've picked up quite a few adorable little onesies and various outfits since this past January, most of them during the sales (and more than I expected, when I take a step back and do a quick inventory -- YIKES, how did that happen?! They say you always have TOO much for the first three months...), and I bought a few used items thanks to a friend who hooked me up with the MESSAGE group in Paris. But otherwise, equipment-wise I'm not exactly what you would call prepared. And my boyfriend and I have pretty much decided that we don't necessarily need to prepare a whole room at this point; a little corner will suffice, until we figure out where we're going to settle down for the long term. Plus, his sisters will be passing on quite a few things to us, so it's really hard to tell how much we will really need once they've given us a hand -- something I'm incredibly grateful for, trust me! I may break down and purchase this children's dresser, though, basically because I LOVE the sweet green color, and I just think it will be useful for years to come, more so than a table à linger or actual "baby" furniture so to speak.

But if there is one domain in which I feel sufficiently prepared (as if it were that big of a priority, I know!) it's the book arena... One of the first things I bought for my baby-on-the-way was a book, several actually, while back in the U.S. for New Year's. Some of you may already know that I worked for a few years in the children's book department of a bookshop, handling everything from meeting with the sales reps (and getting so excited about the books that I practically sold them for them!), selling my favorite books to grateful customers, choosing and ordering the books to stocking the shelves and decorating the windows. Some days I really miss that job, but I definitely don't miss the stress it entailed (believe it or not!) nor the negative level of communication between the management and employees -- to say the least. But I digress...

In any case, in my time spent there I was brought back to my childhood again, in so many ways, and I was brought back to those years that I was so passionate about books in general. (As a little girl, I was the "nerd" who loved walking up a sunny summer street to the local library, where I would spend hours in the air conditioning poring over books until I had to go home again for dinner...) And if there's one thing I can say for certain, I am eternally grateful to that time in my life for reconnecting me to a part of my nature and my personality that I never should have left to fall by the wayside. (I'm also pretty happy to have picked up a wonderful man along the way as well, but that's another whole story!)

During my fairly short stint as a bookseller (and buyer), I managed to collect a few of my favorite children's books to hole away for safekeeping until my own little ones arrived -- some people would be surprised to see how many kiddie books I had on my shelves, without the children around to enjoy them! But these books have always been a pleasure for me as well, so I impatiently await the moment when I will finally be able to share these stories with my own first child.

Now, we're not talking about a library full of books, trust me, but merely a few shelves full of picture books and board books, with a couple educational books squeezed in there and one fabulous collection of children's stories that I know will forever remain a classic. I managed to track down several of my own books from when I was a little girl while I was home in January, including our well-loved, tattered copy of The Cat in the Hat, as well as a copy of Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends (and boy, does that collection of poetry bring back memories...).

This is a post that I started writing, in fact, months ago, before I even knew I was pregnant. I wanted to share a bit about my favorite children's books, just because it's a world I so love, but now that the Baby Bloomer is soon to arrive, I have all the more motivation to get these titles out there! Please feel free to share a few of your favorites with me as well, in the comments. I'm always happy to hear about little-known titles, or ones that I've simply forgotten about over time! (And how I love rediscovering books from my childhood!)

Of course this list isn't exhaustive by any means, and it only includes the titles for children up to about the age of 5 or 6 I would say, but I remember savoring the time my mother would read to my little brother, even when I was already 8 years old and he was still very little. I've just always loved reading from picture books, especially when the story strikes the perfect balance with beautiful images. But I have favorites from other times in my childhood as well, including Charlotte's Web and even later still, Cynthia Voigt's Homecoming.

So, without further ado, voilà my most recent (and constantly changing!) list of faves:

1. Th e Giving T ree - Shel Silverstein - The all-time classic, the only book that gives me chills every time I read it. I'm so lucky to have gotten my hands on a clothbound copy of this treasure while I was working in the bookshop; I will hold onto it forever.

2. The Gruffalo - Julia Donaldson, illustrations by Axel Scheffler - This is one of those books that just so happened to show up along my path while working in the bookshop, and between the sharp, colorful illustrations and the craftiness of the little mouse who outwits the other animals pursuing him before finally meeting the "Gruffalo" (and YES, he does exist!), I just can't get enough of it, especially since it also has a great rhyming rhythm that gets kids right into the story.

3. Morris's Disappearing Bag - Rosemary Wells - For some strange, inexplicable reason, this is a book that stands out in my childhood, and one of the rare books that I STILL have at home, as a reminder of my littlest years. I'm not quite sure what appealed to me the most, whether it was Wells' adorably warm, colorful illustrations or the story of little Morris who feels so left out when his older brothers and sisters get such cool Christmas presents that they each show off with such flair. I love how in the end he makes his magic "disappearing bag" appear even more unique than anything else, and everyone wants to get in on the fun! Such individuality, and I love when that theme is emphasized in children's books.

4. Knuffle Bunn y - Mo Willems - Now HERE'S a recent book that bowled me over as soon as I read it the first time -- everything about it is endearing and appealing, as sappy as that may sound... The combination of black-and-white New York street photos with the quirky colorful drawings on top only enhance Mo Willems' portrayal of baby Trixie, just hitting that age when she's garbling away like crazy but is still pretty much incomprehensible -- until she pronounces her first real word at the end! But not before she loses her beloved stuffed Knuffle Bunny, and drives daddy crazy looking for it... I was sold on Mo after his first Pigeon book, when it won the Caldecott Honor in 2003, and I've become a big fan of his naive drawings and wacky, addictive sense of humor. He also really has a way with kids... Apparently he was inspired by his own baby daughter when he wrote and illustrated Knuffle Bunny, which won the Caldecott Medal in 2004.

5. The Magic Paintbrush - (exists in several versions, as it is based on a Chinese fable, if I'm not mistaken; I have the Julia Donaldson edition as well as a tiny French edition) An enchanting, inspiring story about an incredible paintbrush that brings everything it paints to life. But the main character, Shen, who was given this magical gift, has to protect it from the greedy plans of the emperor, who wants to use it to create more and more riches for himself.

6. The Cat in the Hat - Dr. Seuss - Who doesn't know this eponymous tale by Theodore Geisel, most definitely his most well-loved classic, along with Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish? I have a mini boxed set at this point, as well as my worn copy from childhood, but I'm sure this is a book we'll read together time and time again... I have a particular affinity for Dr. Seuss as he was such a major part of my childhood, so I had to hold myself back several times from buying some anniversary collected editions a few years ago. I may regret not getting my hands on those, though...

7. When Everybody Wore a Hat - William Steig - I'm sure some of you out there have already heard of a silly, loveable monster by the name of Shrek, right?! Well, he was invented by none other than William Steig, also quite known for Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. But his last book, When Everybody Wore a Hat, was the one that really touched me, with the voyage back in time to another era, when Steig himself was growing up in the city, and the many different people he encountered. Something about his childlike drawings here gets to me every time.

8. Frog and Toad Are Friends - Arnold Lobell (and actually the whole Frod & Toad early reading series) Such whimsical, sweet, funny tales of friendship and exchange, these books make me nostalgic for my childhood every time I read them again today. There is even a certain depth to the stories, something that children wouldn't necessarily grasp of course (at least not immediately), but I think that is truly what is so magical about the best children's books out there, how perfectly they capture childhood and its complications, while they presage the difficulties, challenges, and painful moments of adulthood and all that it brings at the same time. Frog & Toad just really bring back memories... And oh, how I love Lobell's drawings!

9. Miss Ne lson is Missing - Harry Allard, illustrations by James Marshall - I don't know if I first heard this book when I was really little, or if I heard it for the first time when looking over my mother's shoulder as she read to my baby brother, six years my junior. I used to get a kick out of listening to her read to him, even though by then I was reading plenty of my own books. But there's just something about storytelling time... And Miss Nelson is one of those irresistible tales that gets you smiling from the start. Naughty schoolkids, a sweet teacher, a nasty witch, and a mystery: all the ingredients for the best kind of story!

10. Harry the Dirty Dog - Gene Zion - The memories of this book came rushing back to me when I found a special hardbound anniversary edition of it in a bookshop this past January, just when I was wandering around looking for the best board books of the bunch... Actually, this edition also includes No Roses for Harry, and Harry by the Sea. But the first tale is of course the most memorable one, in which Harry runs away and has a good time getting dirty all day long, but when his family doesn't recognize him he has to find a way to convince them that he's still the same dog!

11. Goodnight Gorilla - Peggy Rathmann - When looking for those baby board books, I fell upon an edition of this adorable "word-free" picture book, full of images that are so perfect that they tell the story on their own. When a friendly zookeeper's animals all follow him home one night while he's trying to close up shop, he has to usher them each back to their cages. But one tricky gorilla keeps getting loose again! I love the one double-page illustration of the gorilla's toothy smile shining in the dark of the zookeeper's bedroom.

12. The Snail and the Whale - Julia Donaldson/Axel Scheffler (is it obvious that I'm also a big fan of this writer/illustrator team?!) After discovering The Gruffalo, this educational picture book showed up in my book-buying catalogue one day and it was love at first sight. I'm a sucker for Scheffler's flair for color and setting, and this cautionary environmental tale is the perfect balance of fairy tale and modern fable.

Gosh, I think I'm going to stop here with my dozen, although obviously I could go on forever... I also love The Dot, by Peter H. Reynolds, which should be put between the hands of any budding artist who has lost his/her sense of confidence -- or for that matter any child who thinks he/she can't draw! And Zen Shorts, another Caldecott Honor winner which has breathtaking watercolor illustrations and a refreshing take on philosophy for the youngest crowd.

Ahhh, I'm turning into a monster! Anybody have any favorites they want to add?! Obviously I'm OPEN to new discoveries! (Even though our sagging bookshelves may not be too happy...) [Oh, and by the way, if you're as into children's books as I am, or you just love a great collection of children's stories, this book is a must-have. I love paging through it and re-reading some of my classic favorites... So many are in there!]

All Wrapped Up

2008-04-09T15:05:00.004Z

Fred's Incredible Care Package, originally uploaded by alwaysace.

Well, a lot has been going on around here, but as usual I haven't been diligent enough about blogging the everyday events of my life. Of course, I'm sure most of it would bore you to tears anyway, but some things are just screaming to be shared. So, inspired by some fellow expat bloggers who opened up their recent Easter care packages (and chocolate booty, I might add -- jealous much?!) I decided to share my brother's fabulous, most perfect care package for the pregnant gal like me who is missing some little silly things from back home in the U.S.

He pretty much thought to include everything -- from the requisite bags (two!!) of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (let's not talk about the partially hydrogenated oil and such -- we'll just close our eyes on that for the moment!) to the most perfect pregnancy journal I have ever seen -- who can resist The Belly Book?! (Putting aside the fact that I'll have to go back and try to remember the details from the first 5 months!). He even included a little gift for my boy, a huge Western fan, a DVD of 3:10 to Yuma, which ironically has just come out in the movie theaters here. My boy is more of a die-hard old-fashioned Western guy, a big fan of titles I couldn't possibly remember if I even tried, but the first few that come to mind are the ones he dragged me to see in the Latin Quarter a few years back -- namely Red River, with Montgomery Clift and John Wayne, of course, and Last Train from Gun Hill, starring a young Kirk Douglas. I've actually learned to appreciate a few more Westerns thanks to my sweet boy -- but don't try to make me swallow them too often! This is one guy who really likes the Far West and can't resist a Western mainly because "the sky is always blue". Isn't that adorable?!

So my brother's addition for my boy will surely be appreciated, even if it will only be considered a "remake of a great classic" -- after all, there's Russell Crowe! Even I'm willing to watch (and tolerate) a shoot-em-up flick for him. Then there's the "Once" soundtrack, which should be nice for some mellow, relaxing listening. And last but not least, the Burt's Bees Mama Bee Baby Belly Butter -- the name of that stuff made my brother laugh so hard that he couldn't resist jabs like "I guess I won't be able to send you any bread for your baby butter!" I'm totally set for stretch-mark-preventage now (along with my Palmer's cocoa butter and the Weleda oil that my boyfriend's sister gave me); here's just hoping the stuff actually works! Precarious Tomato apparently swears by it... (And that gal will make you laugh yourself silly, so be prepared, and don't say I didn't warn you!)

And I know I haven't talked a whole lot about how the pregnancy has been progressing here on the blog either -- morning sickness, symptoms, etc. -- so I need to share some of that as well. Incredibly enough, this week marks officially 6 months, although it certainly doesn't seem like it -- 24 weeks! It's hard enough for me to believe, trust me, so I won't be surprised if YOU'RE shocked as well... The last two months have just flown by, and admittedly I have been feeling overall much better since the end of February, early March. So much better that I ended up overdoing it last week, burning the candle at both ends as I stayed up late plugging away at my volunteer work for SCBWI France. I made some good progress, and it was work that had to be done after all, but my body wasn't too happy about it -- as it decided to let me know over the weekend, when my digestive system did some backflips...

Needless to say, the toughest parts so far were definitely back in the second and third months, in the first trimester, I would say, when mornings were pretty much dismal and evenings required frequent sugar highs and meals at regular hours -- or ELSE! My trip back and forth to the U.S. went well, but trust me, flying is NOT fun while in the early stages of pregnancy -- I even planned on writing out a blog post on how pregnancy and jetlag simply don't mix, but then it just never happened. One evening on my way home from work last December I literally tumbled out of the doors of the RER and plopped myself flat down on the ground, heavy winter coat and all, without even seeking out a bench on the quai... I just needed some air and some rest -- not to mention some food!

Recent ails have revolved more around heartburn, for the most part, although I'm not nearly as tired as I was in January. I slept away the weekends back then, marathon sleeping sessions that were unpredictable and could string together for a few days at a time. My boyfriend would say that I had slept all afternoon and couldn't possibly sleep through the night -- and yet I DID, pretty much every time. Now I'm in the stage of waking up early -- at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m. -- and wondering why on earth this is happening. Maybe my body is trying to prepare me for the lack of sleep ahead?! Who knows, but this non-morning person is having a hard time swallowing it... My boy will wake up overjoyed at the early hour, while I'll just roll over and beg for a few more minutes mercy.

Needless to say, the pregnancy has, in many ways, brought my boyfriend and I closer together. It's hard to explain why or how, but I'm hoping we'll continue on this path, because I know I'm going to need all the support I can get in the final months of the pregnancy and especially when the Little Bean arrives. We've had to compromise on some things already, including whether we find out the baby's sex, but we've managed to work things out -- in our own, eccentric, unpredictable ways! (And there's a story behind learning the baby's sex as well, but that will have to be for another time...)

It's hard to put into words the affection I feel emanating from my boy in recent times, the gestures he has made to be closer to me, and the warmth he brings me every time it happens... He still hasn't managed to grasp the concept of placing his hand fully around my belly to feel the baby's movements, and instead taps away lightly with the palm of his hand, while I look down, puzzled and amused (clearly thinking that if he knocks the baby might just answer?!). But I think he's just as excited and pleased to be sharing this experience with me as I am with him. It's his unexpected embrace and smile that make me happiest at any time of the day, and I'm so looking forward to sharing the many months ahead with him, with all of their highs and lows.

Fresh Memories

2008-03-22T15:51:00.007Z

I decided to make financiers again this afternoon, just as I had done two years ago at about this time, for Easter weekend as well. I pulled out the same recipe I had used then, from a past issue of Elle à table, and checked to see what I would need. I knew I still had some ground almond powder leftover from a past recipe, so I really would only need to get some strawberries at the market because I like to make the version with half a fresh strawberry planted in the middle of the almondy batter. [And as an aside, I scored some luscious early-season Gariguettes at the market, 4 barquettes for only 3 €! Still not sure what I'm going to do with the rest of them...] My financiers had been quite successful the first time around, and I had even made them a few times since then, but I think I'll always remember that first time, because it was one of the first pastries I had brought to contribute to a family meal at my in-laws' home in Le Havre... Two years ago this month, and I had also brought a tarte bourdaloue, recipe taken from the same magazine. I think I was feeling ambitious that weekend... Miraculously, both recipes had turned out well, and even though I was suspicious of the pear and almond tart results, it was scarfed up pretty quickly, which is always a good sign...

When I try to think back to that weekend, I don't remember many details, but it was one of the last times we spent with my mother-in-law before she passed away unexpectedly from a sudden and severe stroke. It was an enormous shock for my boyfriend's whole family, and I still recall that period like it was yesterday, stunned into such silence and pain for several weeks, trying to make some kind of sense of her loss. Even today I know it is still fresh and very painful for my boyfriend, and he often tells me of his desire to pick up the phone and share something with his mother -- and suddenly realizing that he can't do that, because she isn't there anymore...

You see, my mother-in-law was someone really, really special... Perhaps the exception to all those stereotypes we all hear about mothers-in-law. She was strong and supportive from the beginning of my relationship with her son, never suspicious and critical, and if anything she encouraged me in my new cooking and baking ventures, telling me to have more confidence, to not worry about every little detail like I tended to do. I would call her up for a small tip when trying a new recipe, and she would laugh and say, why, if I were doing that I would just improvise... She would reassure me and tell me that she was sure it would turn out great. Oftentimes it did, and to this day I think this was the case because of her words; I am so grateful for her support, for the short time that I knew her, for her trusting smile and her respectful warmth and discretion, always giving advice when needed but keeping a certain distance when things got délicat. I never knew anyone quite like her: she had such wonderful taste, chic and yet simple at the same time, warm and yet not afraid to say what she thought, a marvelous combination of her German heritage and her time spent in France for most of her life.

My boyfriend is still very attached to his German roots, in spite of spending his adult life in France, having grown up on French soil. He tries to go back to visit his uncle and cousins in Konstanz, on the border of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, whenever possible, but as you can imagine, it seems to be less and less in recent years... We made a brief trip there two years ago this past winter and had a wonderful time at the Karnival, visiting the region and spending time with his German family. I have vivid memories of the many pretzels and huge glasses of beer, my pathetic lack of skill with the German language, my struggle to breathe after eating so much for so long... (Man, can they put it away in Germany!)

Who would have ever thought that we would lose her so soon? We all have those fleeting thoughts of the things we would do if only we could be with that person again... I know she would have helped me to decorate our apartment, to choose curtains for the windows (Something I STILL haven't done! Maybe partially because she isn't here to share it with me...), to make it through the tough times in my pregnancy. She was a warm presence and shared so much with me in such a short time... I learned to use a Romertopf baking dish because of her, with the one she passed on to me, and took to preparing a pintade aux pommes et lardons on a regular basis, as I knew it was one of my boyfriend's and his father's favorite dishes. I plan on making one again this weekend, as a matter of fact...

Now if only I could find enough confidence to attempt the sacred linzertorte, the German tart that my boy's mother would bake for him every year, without fault, on his birthday and bring to him especially, even taking a train from Le Havre to Paris just to see him and to bring him his favorite dessert. This year his sister e-mailed me the recipe, but when we dashed off to visit his father again I didn't get a chance to give it a try the weekend of his birthday. I still plan on trying my hand at it, but I have to admit that I'm more than a bit intimidated, as I know how much he loved that tart, and how much he associates it with his mother and his memories of her.

I think of her so often when I'm in the kitchen, baking away. And I think of her now, as I head back into the kitchen to pour the financier batter into the baking molds. I know she would be happy for us, for the baby we are expecting and have desired together, and I know she would ease all of my fears about being a good mother.

I miss you, Brigitte.

A Perfect Day

2008-03-14T15:20:00.000Z

Where did the last 10 days go?! I actually started writing this post on Sunday, when my thoughts were fresh and I was feeling good about the day I had just spent with my boy, but then the week got away from me, I didn't get a chance to develop my ideas, and this post fell by the wayside. All week long I've been wanting to post here, but either work or one of these headaches-from-hell would get in the way and keep me from expressing myself coherently. Wednesday was particularly hard -- I woke up feeling like a mack truck had run over me, and I dragged myself into the kitchen to have breakfast with my boyfriend, who had been awake for over an hour already and was as CHIPPER as a chipmunk. Have I mentioned before that he's more of a morning person?! And my bad influence has led him, on occasion, to stay in bed much longer than he ever did in the past when I first knew him. In any case, the poor thing had to tolerate my grumbling as I tried to get some coffee down my throat and figure out why my head felt like it was going to explode. Was it these supposed allergies? The bizarre weather? The wind, the humidity, the mold? Who knows... But it kept me in a nasty mood most of the day, and I still don't know how I made it through work at the office. And I had colleagues telling me how NICE I looked that day -- what's up with that?! Oh, the irony, I tell ya! Obviously I should have been flattered, yet somehow I was a bit suspicious... But they're convinced that this pregnancy is making me look as healthy as a freshly-bloomed spring flower, so I guess I should take it while I can get it...

[As an aside, my trip home in the RER on Wednesday night was kinda grueling -- I literally tried to coach myself as I walked up Avenue Hoche beforehand, muttering that for once I needed to be assertive and simply say, "S'il vous plaît, je suis enceinte, pourriez-vous me laisser une place ?" And yet once I was confronted with the situation, I stook there stupidly, with my coat hanging open, my admittedly small belly hardly noticeable to most people around me -- especially those who were markedly choosing to ignore me in the first place. I managed to score a seat after one stop down the line, but only because a few people got off the train. What a daily struggle!]

I'm officially in my 2nd trimester, you see -- actually, I'm officially five months along as of this week! -- so where in the heck is that wonderful energetic period I'm supposed to be experiencing?! Why am I STILL so tired all the time? I can only guess that part of the reason is this crappy March weather, and the fact that I'm desperate for warm spring weather to get here, that and the fact that I haven't been exercising much lately... Of course, I've never been the best about fitting in a regular exercise routine en temps normal, but somehow I think it would probably do me a lot of good. I've been putting off ordering a prenatal yoga video from Amazon for weeks, and yet I put it in my shopping basket ages ago... I have a colleague who swims at a local pool regularly, and she was very emphatic about the beneficial elements of swimming, both during pregnancy as well as any other ol' time. I already know how much my boy loves swimming, how much relaxation he gets out of it, but I tend to prefer the ocean to the chlorine of a strangely-lit public pool. Plus I'm just plain stubborn -- and lazy I guess! I should just bite the bullet and give it a try, though, because I need all the possible energy-producing solutions I can get my hands on, and I keep reading all over how good swimming is for us pregnant gals.

So that's one of my plans for tomorrow: to squeeze in an hour or so at a nearby pool with my boyfriend. He tries to go on a regular basis, but he's been a bit tired himself in recent weeks and has had a hard time motivating himself too. I'm going to try to convince him that it will be good for BOTH of us tomorrow... Even if last Sunday we were thrilled to stay home and just lay around and be our lazy selves. You see, last Sunday was the perfect day I'm referring to in my post title -- last Sunday was the day that originally inspired me to write this post...

When my boyfriend mentioned to me on Saturday evening that we might take a day trip on Sunday, I was torn between feeling excited about the potential of getting away for a change of air and the disappointment of once again missing the opportunity to prepare my long-delayed rabbit recipe... But somehow I should have known that the potential vague plans for "getting away" wouldn't probably pan out, either because of our bad habit of getting up late on Sunday mornings or because of the crummy gray weather -- in this case, it was a little bit of both! So we woke up well-rested around 10:00 (yes, I know, a luxury we need to enjoy while we can, given the fact that in less than five months' time those lay-ins will be over... and a distant memory!), had a leisurely breakfast (one of my favorite things to do on a Sunday) and then proceeded to rest and relax all afternoon long. I was relieved that we didn't have to rush anywhere, and I DID finally get to make that rabbit -- the recipe turned out to be ho-hum, though, which was a bit of a disappointment after all that anticipation, so I think I'm going to turn back to one of my tried-and-true recipes this weekend, one I'm sure to pull off with flying colors. I also managed to salvage some apples that were on their way out, slicing and dicing the suspicious parts in order to prepare a late-afternoon crumble. We watched From Here to Eternity on TV -- random chance, and believe it or not I had never seen it in its entirety! -- and then a DVD or two... It was SOOOO nice to just lay back and not think, just really RELAX and enjoy our time together. It was truly one of the nicest days I've spent in a while, and just thinking about it makes me smile. We just enjoyed each other's company, we were both in good moods -- it was just perfection!

I know, that's pretty pathetic -- an uneventful Sunday afternoon, full of nothing but laying around, watching movies and baking apple crumble constitutes the perfect day for me, right?! Yup. That's about it in a nutshell. Heck, I love to go see a show, visit a museum or spend time with friends as much as the next gal, but sometimes a weekend just calls for some real laziness. And last weekend was one of them.

This weekend promises to be about as uneventful, as my boy has to work on Sunday, which will probably guilt me into doing some more housecleaning. If I'm feeling inspired, I may just try to bake Clotilde's chocolate raspberry cake from her book, so I'll keep you posted! We will also be visiting some friends who just had their first baby, wee leetle Zoé (I love that name!), and I plan on taking lotsa photos! My boy seems a bit reticent, and I suspect it's because he's fearing the reality of holding that tiny one in his arms and realizing that if all goes well we'll be experiencing something very similar in a very short time.

Oh, and by the way, I think I felt the baby for the first time on Monday! I still can't quite describe the feeling, but words wouldn't do it justice anyway... It was odd, unexpected, surreal and comforting all at the same time -- the complex signs of so many more emotions to come...

By the way...

2008-03-03T12:28:00.001Z

Yep, it's me -- I know, I know, I've been MIA once again, and I realize there's no use in my listing off all my excuses... I was pretty much suffering from the longest-extended-and-excrutiatingly-miserably cold-flu-virus thingie in the history of time, and it totally zapped my energy, my motivation and any level of creativity. Add to that the actual WORK I've had to do in my day job for a change, and I wonder how I'm ever able to fit in time for personal e-mails and catching up on all my favorite blogs -- forgive me if I've gotten behind in my commenting as well...

But I did want to squeeze in a much-belated mention of the fact that I passed the one-year mark of blogging sometime last month -- okay, now that's actually more than a month, so shoot me! -- and I can hardly believe that so much time has gone by so quickly. It feels like yesterday that several of my favorite blogging divas twisted my arm and talked me into starting this here blog, and although I still have aspirations of improving it, adding in a more personalized banner one of these days, posting more often and possibly increasing my traffic, I also know that I'll probably never be as "hard-core" about blogging as so many of my favorite bloggers really are -- perhaps this all stems from the fact that I've had a hard time keeping a personal journal or diary all my life, or perhaps it's just my laziness kicking in. Who knows?! In any case, I'm grateful to the wonderful friends I've made in this here blogosphere, and I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for being out there, for supporting me, for stopping by, for commenting -- for just being YOU!

And on that note, I realized that I also hadn't even taken a moment to thank so many of you for your warm, encouraging words regarding my pregnancy and the months ahead. I really appreciate all the nice things you had to say in response to my "Year of Promise" post, and all the lovely things you've said to me since then as well, either by e-mail, via the blog, or in person. As a matter of fact, I was lucky enough to see some of my blogging friends once again this past Friday night at Petite Anglaise's book launch party, and I was so happy to have the chance to catch up with so many of you! I think I may have almost forgotten I was pregnant that night, because the time got away from me and before I knew it it was after midnight, and I was running down to the métro like Cinderella after leaving her glass slipper on the stairs of the palace. Luckily I ran into King Negrito and his lovely friends on the way, and they shared a taxi with me to Châtelet, where I managed to catch the RER and make my way home just in the nick of time! I had a great time, although obviously without the champagne that was flowing so freely (Petite and friends kept my glass filled with some grapefruit juice most of the evening), and made sure to have a taste of as many of Meg's delish canapés as possible. After all, I was STARVING! Go figure.

Anyway, the only photographic evidence of me at the party is, as usual, atrocious -- why is it that I simply never seem to take a good photo?! Cameras are just NOT my friends. In spite of Frog's friendly efforts to make me feel otherwise -- and trust me, your sweet words sure did make me feel much better, Frog! And it should also come as no surprise that I completely forgot to pull out my own digital camera to take some pics for the blog. Oh well! Again, nothing new there. I simply don't have the instinct for these kinds of things, I guess.

All in all the weekend was a whirlwind of busy-ness... Between the party Friday night, my participation in a children's writing workshop on Saturday afternoon, and a trip up to Le Havre and back on Sunday, it was pretty much non-stop. But in a nice way for a change... Here's hoping I'm really starting to feel the "second wind" of my pregnancy and am moving into a good place in my second trimester! Now all I need is some true spring weather here in Paris and a real change of seasons so I can pack away all of that winter blues and put it behind me... (And I don't count those few days of teasing warm weather in February -- I think that's the kind of thing that gets us all sick anyway!)

Literary Lines on Page 123: A Meme

2008-02-18T15:24:00.003Z

The eminently readable and highly entertaining (and informative!) Polly over at Polly-Vous Français tagged me for a fun meme that only took a few moments of thought to put into action -- now this was something I could handle, for once! I'm not the most frequent blog-poster, as I'm fully aware, but I have this ridiculous habit of overthinking everything before "putting it out there". At least with this one I could go with my gut -- and with what was waiting patiently for my attention on my bedside table!

Without hesitation, I picked up the first book on the top of the pile -- and trust me, that pile is mounting by the days, weeks and months, and is threatening to topple over at any moment -- and turned to page 123, as Polly instructed. I was meant to read the first five sentences, and then share the following three sentences here with you on the blog.

For some quick background on my book choice, and the reason behind its placement on my to-be-read pile, some of you may know that I very recently attended Tatiana de Rosnay's reading from her book Sarah's Key at the Village Voice on February 7th. The evening was emotionally intense and intellectually stimulating at the same time, and it included a highly successful reading and subsequent discussion. There was a crowd of fans of both her French and English editions of the book, and after reading an excerpt in English, Tatiana's translator also read a bit from the French edition. Some of you may also already know that Tatiana has several blogs, one of which is her English-language blog, Fig Tree Franglais, on which she writes about recent experiences, musings and reflections, her travels, progress on her upcoming novel -- plus much more! Sarah's Key has been getting excellent reviews and has now been translated into 20 languages (if i'm not mistaken) -- and counting! I've been wanting to read it ever since I first read about it for the first time on Maîtresse's blog a few months ago. That's when I first discovered Tatiana's blog as well. Sarah's Key has a blog of its own, where you can read much more about the novel, updates on latest editions, press reviews, etc. And now I finally have a copy of my own, and a signed copy at that! Tatiana is just as lovely in person as on her blog, and I'm so pleased to have had an opportunity to meet her.

So, without further ado, feast your eyes on a few (the 6th, 7th and 8th!) lines from page 123:

"I leaned forward over the table.

'If I gave you an exact address, could you help me trace a family? A family that was arrested in Paris on 16 July 1942?'"

That was quite a hook there, wasn't it? I know I can't wait to read it... And if I can only make it through to the end of Atonement (whose page 123, coincidentally, I just read this morning -- another good one!), Sarah's Key will be my next long-anticipated novel to be read!

And just because, like Polly, I couldn't resist, I decided to share three lines from page 123 of the next novel in my pile, Nancy Huston's Lignes de faille, for my French-loving readers (which, incidentally, I have in the Babel livre de poche edition, and in fact the three requisite lines continue on the top of page 124 -- I love Actes sud's Babel collection and the highly "aerated" pages, but it's intriguing to note how few sentences fit on one page! And also to note the difference in authors' sentence length at this stage in the book...):

"Je mange mes corn-flakes le plus lentement possible parce que maman m'a interdit de quitter la table : 'On n'est pas chez nous, alors il faut être sage comme une image aujourd'hui, d'accord?' Mon regard volette de-ci de-là, j'ai l'impression d'être enfermé dans une espèce de maison de poupée. Partout où je pose les yeux : meubles et bibelots, coussins et napperons brodés, bols en cristal taillé, statuettes, photos et tableaux encadrés sur les murs couverts de papier peint à fleurs, chaque centimètre carré est occupé et décoré et je voudrais être une tortue Ninja pour donner des coups de pied de poing de bras à droite à gauche et m'en aller de là, vlan ! bing ! bang ! bong ! - ou, mieux encore, Superman : il suffit de lever le bras et on est propulsé dans les airs comme une fusée, le toit se déchire et on fonce à grande vitesse vers le ciel bleu limpide."

And now it's my turn to do some tagging: oh, let's see, who might be up for this? Tatiana, if you happen to stop by and have a moment, I'd love to know what you're going to be reading next. And let's also hear from Meredith at Poppy Fields, La Page Française, and my literary inspiration, Maîtresse!

Fridge Fun

2008-02-10T12:19:00.000Z

It's been a strange couple of weeks, and yet at the same time there's not a whole lot to tell. I've just been struggling with lots of fatigue, which I know is fairly normal, and at the same time I'm pretty much hungry all the time -- as a matter of fact, I sometimes surprise myself with the quantity of food I put down my throat on my own! Yesterday I ate a huge amount of pasta with some ground beef I had left to simmer in some tomato sauce with a shallot and some garlic... Along with a salad, half an avocado, and then a bowl of -- yes, that's right! -- Country Crisp chocolate granola cereal... Sheesh! I was a bit embarrassed, but luckily I was home on my own, so no one was there to chide me -- of course now that I've shared my lunch with the Internet, I guess it's no longer a secret!

Last weekend my boyfriend and I were in Le Havre once again, spending time with his father. I actually arrived late Saturday afternoon on the train and only spent that night and Sunday with them. The incredible thing is that I spent most of that whole weekend sleeping. I had a good night's sleep on Friday night, but was exhausted by noon on Saturday, when I found myself at les Halles shopping center with a friend, hoping to find something interesting at the maternity department of H&M. [Of course, I'm not really showing all that much yet, per se, but I can't seem to button up most of my pants, so I figure any day now my whole wardrobe is going to be useless -- hence the need for at least a few essentials. And I definitely don't want to have to spend a lot of money on new clothes for the next 6 months, so I'm hoping to find a few things used, secondhand, or through friends and colleagues. As a matter of fact, an absolutely wonderful colleague of mine has already loaned me an assortment of things that I'm keeping on hand for when the need arises. I would still like to treat myself to maybe a dress or two, and I'm going to need at least two pairs of pants to tide me over, but otherwise I plan on wearing some stretch sweaters and dresses as much as possible.]

By the time I got on the train at St. Lazare on Saturday, I could hardly stay awake, so I slept for almost the whole two hours. I fell into bed at about 11:00 that night, woke up around 9:30 the next morning, and then slept on and off all afternoon! A serious allergy attack knocked me out and made me feel even more exhausted, so for once my boyfriend actually prepared lunch (a lovely blanquette de veau -- I was impressed!) and I laid around relaxing. My boy was convinced I wouldn't sleep at all on Sunday night after all that snoozing in the afternoon, and even in the car on the way back to Paris, but believe it or not I slept through the night, like a -- baby. That's pretty much my life in a nutshell right now: sleep, eat, start all over again.

This weekend I was determined to get some things done around the apartment, make up for some lost time, especially since I haven't done any decent housecleaning in several -- gasp! -- weeks. Yeah, I know; I'm not very proud of that fact, but when you're away for most of the weekend and working during the week, it's hard to keep up with these things. Unfortunately, yesterday didn't start out so well when I had another ridiculous allergy attack, and I wish I could figure out what sets these things off -- it's got to be either the dust that is inevitable in our hardwood-floored apartment, or the chemicals in some of the cleaning products I use... Either way, apparently I'm super-sensitive to something. It all started as I was wiping up the sink in the kitchen. And it slowed me down for the rest of the day. In the end, I only managed to get one major project done: the deep-down-and-dirty cleaning of the inside of our refrigerator**, something that the pregnancy manuals and the on-line journals all tell you you're supposed to do once a month. Um, yeah. I can see that happening *cough, cough*.

I had just come back from the market, it was around 1:00, and I figured I'd have it done within the half hour... Well, little did I know that the allergy attack was going to cripple me a bit, and that digging everything out of the refrigerator, going through it to get rid of the far-too-ancient stuff, and then scrubbing down the inside of the fridge would take more than a half an hour. But in the end, when I finally finished the task, I couldn't help but feel proud of myself -- the inside of our fridge hasn't looked this spotless in two years!

I don't tend to leave stuff festering in there for ages or anything, but you know how it is: an old bottle of jam here, another half-full bottle of guacamole there -- well, some of that stuff just tends to get overlooked. (And I hate wasting...) Add to that the fact that I kept finding a puddle of water accumulated at the bottom of the refrigerator, under the vegetable bin, over the last few weeks... I would sponge it out and put back the vegetable basket, but then it would start all over again. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was causing this, or where the water was coming from -- that is, until I saw that the hole in the back of the refrigerator where the water is supposed to drain was full of, er, goo. Can anyone tell me how this sort of thing happens? I'm sure you're probably all thinking I'm a complete slob, but I haven't the slightest idea how or when this gook got in the back of the fridge... I unplugged the draining hole as best I could, so here's hoping that the water puddles won't be back anytime soon.

After the fridge fun, I had my enormous lunch -- and then laid down for a two-hour nap. Talk about veering away from my initial plans for the day...

And this afternoon I haven't gotten a whole heck of a lot more done, aside from a few loads of laundry and some putzing around in the kitchen. I'm now gradually trying to use up everything inside of our freezer so I can attack another long-delayed task ASAP: the defrosting of the freezer and subsequent mopping out of that particular kitchen appliance! I had been planning on making a cream of mushroom soup for a few weeks now, and I finally dragged out the bag of frozen mushrooms that have been waiting to be simmered for soup. I knew that mushrooms tend to "shrink" after cooking, but the 300g I prepared in a pan didn't leave much for a meal, so I only managed to eke out two bowls' worth -- that I proceeded to scarf down with some toasted bread... There goes my plan for this week's worth of meals!

In any case, this is definitely not the most productive time for me, but I guess I'm just going to have to resign myself to the fact that it's only a period and that it shall soon pass... I'm also going to have to learn to be less hard on myself, because I'm so tired of the self-berating and guilt. It's always been much more important to me to spend time with my friends and family than keep the house spotless, so unfortunately I'll probably never live up to my mom's expectations in that department (much less in others -- but that's a story for another time!).

And in the meantime, here's to small victories! Like a nice clean fridge.

** I just have to make a note here of the fact that I received a phone call halfway through my fridge-scrubbing task: Jenn was checking in with me, and we ended up chatting away while I disinfected the refrigerator. She actually laughingly told me I should blog about this thoroughly exciting subject, so I had to share the fact that this particular blog post was brought to you courtesy of the Double Dog Blog Dare! (Ah, and you thought I wouldn't really do it!)

Clotilde in Elle à table!

2008-01-27T18:42:00.000Z

Yesterday I had just picked up the last of my weekly fresh supplies at the market -- this time around mainly consisting of more clementines, some pink grapefruits, a handful of Comice pears (I'm completely addicted to these!) and some fresh cabillaud -- when I asked my boyfriend if he wanted to stop into the nearby Maison de la presse to check out a few magazines. I had seen a few titles on a newsstand the day before that I thought might interest him, and I was also in the mood to pick up a new cooking magazine for some inspiration. I hadn't gotten anything new since devouring Saveurs a few months back...

At first I was planning on bringing home the new issue of Régal, with a spread on simmering winter soups and stews (next weekend I may try my hand at rabbit once again), but I picked up the new February issue of Elle à table out of curiosity. I haven't actually bought it in months, because the last few times I grabbed it without a second thought I didn't even end up using any of the recipes. I hated feeling disappointed when it sat unused on my coffee table -- especially since many of the recipes are actually available on-line now! But there are admittedly some great articles in Elle à table -- case in point: I was just quickly paging through it to get a general idea of the latest articles when, lo and behold, whose familiar face jumped out at me? Paris's own Clotilde Dusoulier of the highly acclaimed, always appetizing and inspiring Chocolate & Zucchini! Six pages devoted to Clotilde, the story behind her blog, some snippets on her approach to cooking (as well as some sample signature recipes), and a glimpse into her rise to food blogging fame. Of course, her book develops all of these subjects even more fully, and it hit me that its French translation is to be released in just a few days' time -- apparently on February 1st! Congrats once again to Clotilde and her much-deserved success. I'm looking forward to her new book as well, due out in April.

So if you happen to be in France or can get your hands on Elle à table, I highly recommend this month's issue -- in addition to the great C&Z piece, there are variations on the classic roasted chicken, some wonderful winter cake recipes, as well as some unexpected suggestions for how to put a twist on everyone's favorite chocolat chaud! Mmmm, dig in...

What a Morning!

2008-01-23T11:39:00.000Z

Well, it's been one of those days... already. I'm trying to take it in stride, because in all honesty I should be used to these kinds of Murphy's-Law situations by now, but it still gets to me... Especially when everything seems to run together in a series of mishaps or unexpected baffling moments.

After running out the door, nearly five minutes later than planned -- as usual -- (That plan to turn over a new leaf and really allow myself more time in getting to the train station in the morning has not been working -- wonder why? Maybe because I know I'll never change...), I did still manage to get my train, but only just as the buzzer was ringing and I thought I was going to get trapped between the doors. Nothing new for me, but it still puts the fear of God in me. Which is one of the reasons why I had also recently told myself not to even run or rush anymore, because it simply isn't worth it, not for a train for goodness' sake, even if it means getting to work late. Life is too short and far more valuable...

But anyway, I digress. I got this train, but had to make a change at the next station. Once I arrive there, I know things should go pretty smoothly, which they did. But I have to say, in line with some of my expat friends out there, that there truly is some région parisienne behavior that will remain a mystery to me to the end of my days... Granted, we're all harried and tired, from the start of the day to the end, but some people have longer commutes than others (ahem, Jenn?) and some people have more stressful jobs as well. I can't honestly claim to have either one of those at this point, but of course I like to be able to sit down and rest my feet a bit as much as the next guy. And I'm at that stage where absolutely no one knows that I'm pregnant yet anyway, so it's not as if that would help matters. Although from past experience, and from what people have told me over the years, I know that doesn't tend to faze most commuters anyway. They want that sacred seat, come hell or high water!

This morning's hilarious observation really took the cake, though: as the next train pulled into the station, we all quietly ushered into the train as usual, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed it wasn't all that crowded -- a rarity! Out of the corner of my eye, I caught this one guy, middle-aged, perfectly healthy-looking (although I do realize looks can be deceiving...), literally racing down the train aisle to the only empty seat available. I almost laughed out loud! It was so utterly ridiculous, and yet entirely typical. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I have to admit that I was... It's times like those when I literally want to lean down and say, "Hey buddy, it's all yours! If it's that important to you, please, by my guest -- enjoy that comfortable seat for the next 15 minutes!" But of course I keep my trap shut... Making any commentary is pointless, and not to mention inappropriate, according to the unwritten but perfectly understood Paris commuting "rules".

So having caught the right train, I managed to make it down the Avenue a bit earlier than usual, allowing me just enough time to stop into the local Franprix market to pick up a few necessities -- listen, a girl has to have her snacks and French yogurts nearby, especially when she's constantly hungry! I figured I had just enough time to snatch up a few items, run through the cash register, and still make it to the office by 9:30. That, of course, was a pipedream, and certainly not counting on the behavior, once again, of those around me. Now, when I'm in a hurry, I know I can be a bit of a pain too, but I sincerely try to be respectful of those around me. I stood behind the guy in front of me at the cash register, who was apparently doing his WEEKLY SHOPPING TRIP at the local miniscule Franprix, his shopping cart overflowing with bottles, boxes and pretty much half the shop (I know it's a free country, but STILL). Not only that, but his attitude was incredible -- apparently the gal at the cash register was on her own, the only cashier available, which is not surprising either. They're usually stocking the shelves at that hour of the morning, and are often short-staffed. And, well, they didn't have any plastic bags -- and to be perfectly frank, I think that people should not be surprised by that these days. And if I'm not mistaken, I believe a new law is going to be passed in the next year or so eliminating the distribution of plastic bags in grocery stores -- about time, really (do we really need any more of those environmentally destructive things?!). I try to carry my own shopping bag folded up in my purse at all times, for emergency runs like this (but I do sometimes forget it!), and in la province, anywhere outside of Paris, I know that when you make hefty, major grocery shopping trips, you're expected to bring your own bags and boxes to places like Carrefour and Auchan. I think they still HAVE bags on offer, but you have to pay for them. It's only here in the city that people still expect plastic bags to be overflowing and aplenty. This guy was nasty about it, too -- the fact that there weren't any bags on offer. And so his groceries were piling up at the end of the register, and he was shrugging, expecting someone else to find him a solution, refusing to put his things back in the shopping cart or to step aside for a moment.

At this point, I realized that my arriving-on-time plan was pretty much shot -- I quickly thought to call a colleague to punch in for me (because, yes, that's right -- we have to punch in! And no, I don't work in a factory...hmph), exceptionally, something I don't usually like to do. As the cashier ran my purchases through, I popped them into my own bag, paid quickly, and ran out the door. I did manage to arrive only a few minutes late, but it was ironic that on one of the days that I was actually running early, I still appeared to be late. And then, just after I walked through the office door and prepared to settle into my daily quiet, low-key office routine, one of my bosses sprinted right up to me and proceeded to make a random immediate request (this rarely happens). Of course, entirely normal -- to be expected, right? Yeah, sure, except that I still had my coat on my back and my purse on my shoulder -- I hadn't even had a chance to sit down yet. I looked at her a bit incredulously, nodded my assent, and turned on my computer. It was no problem, an absolutely trivial, small request, but the irony of these kinds of tasks is that my bosses always precede them with "When you have time, will you...?" Instead of saying, "This is kindof urgent..." When I'm fully aware that they pretty much expect it to be done pronto. This lack of communication and straightforwardness (or shall we call it beating around the bush?) irks me, but it's one of the few small pesky aspects of my job, so honestly, I can't complain.

And that brings me to now, a few hours later, quietly assessing the day ahead of me, and hoping that it will speed by so I can enjoy my evening at home with my boy and perhaps a good movie. Oh, except for lunchtime, of course -- I'm lucky enough to have a lunch date with my dear friend Jenn, so of course I'd like for that part to stretch out and last as long as possible (hey, we've got LOTS to talk about)! And at least I won't have to rehash this whole morning all over again -- she'll already know about it! Then again, hold on a sec -- I think her days are a bit busier than mine, so she may only read about it later...

In any case, an "eventful" morning, shall we say -- well, I don't know if I would go that far, but it was certainly more mouvementé than usual!

A Year of Promise

2008-01-20T16:16:00.000Z

After spending Christmas with my boy's family, we had to part ways for the New Year, to my chagrin... It was the second year in a row like this, and I would certainly have preferred for things to be otherwise, but unfortunately my boyfriend's job doesn't allow for him to travel as easily at this time of year, whereas my office literally shuts down over the holidays. So it's the perfect opportunity for me to visit my family in the U.S.

So we spent the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 separated by the Atlantic, but at the same time I knew we were together in spirit, especially since he's the first to encourage me to spend as much time as possible with my family. Of course he would have loved to join me as well, but I think that in the end it was probably for the best this time around, as it was a bit of an emotional trip (to say the least!).

It would be an understatement to say that the last two years have brought us a few challenges and painful moments -- after settling into our life together in 2005, with some wonderful weekend trips to Rome and several undiscovered sites in France, 2006 hit us hard when my boyfriend's mother passed away unexpectedly in May of that year. He is still working on recovering from that shock, and I know that only time can help him in healing. Then our apartment was broken into, and we worked on picking up the pieces and remaining optimistic for the future. We were convinced that 2007 would be better, but when he had his heart attack in April, I didn't even know where to begin to look for hope nor how to understand the reasons behind these painful blows. Of course, these past two years have also brought us many wonderful moments, including our unforgettable trip to Spain last March and summer holidays spent in Noirmoutier. Trust me, I'm not complaining -- I know we have been blessed in many ways. But I couldn't help but wonder when the wheel might turn in another direction, or what might be waiting for us around the next corner...

And then came the end of the year, December 2007... And the greatest gift that life could bring us: the promise of the future, in the form of a new life -- a new member of our own little family. I couldn't be happier, and I don't even know how to put into words how significant this is for me, for both us, how much it means to know that we will be sharing so many special moments together in the future. When we knew it was certain, and when the first tests and examinations were behind us, we took a step back and breathed a sigh of both relief and anticipation. Obviously we have some challenges ahead of us, and many unanswered questions regarding where we will eventually settle down for good, but the one certainty is that this new life, this baby growing inside of me, is the greatest possible promise of new beginnings and continued love. That is all I could ever hope for in the New Year. And it feels good.

Are We There Yet?

2007-12-24T22:33:00.001Z

As I get older, I realize that I am somehow reverting back to my childhood in one way or another. Most recently I've become more and more intolerant of long car rides, and I try to avoid them at all costs. I just don't like being in the car! To be honest, I never really have, ever since I was a little girl, but I have vivid memories of the dreaded two-hour (!!) drive to the countryside where we would go camping with my grandparents. Today, of course, a two-hour trip seems like nothing, but it certainly creeped by in the backseat of that beastly hot car, my thighs clinging to the burning material of the seats (not leather, but not plastic -- pleather?!). Even when I drove my own car in Washington, DC, I didn't really enjoy it -- the only part I liked was turning up my favorite music and singing along. But most of the time I was just in a big hurry to get to where I was going, from point A to point B. Which I guess explains the fact that I've never had any particular affinity for cars of any kind, and that I could honestly care less if I never drove again. Unfortunately, I imagine I'm probably not going to be able to get around the need to drive at some point, especially if we end up leaving la région parisienne... A possibility, but not yet a certainty.

Saturday my boyfriend and I took a train from Paris to Le Havre to meet his father, and thankfully we spent the night at his house before hitting the road at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning. We drove with his father down to Besançon, where my boy's younger sister and her little family lives. I slept for the first few hours, but had a heck of a time getting into a comfortable position in the backseat. Again, memories from childhood... I know I was lucky to not have to take the wheel, to be honest, because I don't even think I could have handled it. I still haven't prepared for the permis de conduire here, and I know it's something that will eventually be unavoidable. But in the meantime, I just try to be patient when the drive is long and sleep the time away... When lunchtime hit, my boyfriend and his father were both inspired: they decided to make a detour to Vézélay, a village in the Burgundy region with a stunning basilica at the top of a steep hill. I had already been there once before, but was more than happy to visit again -- after a stop for lunch, of course! We were lucky enough to fall on a really nice local bistrot-restaurant called Le Voutenay on the small départémental leading to Vézélay, in a tiny town called Voutenay-sur-Cure. After a brief mix-up in which we managed to find ourselves seated at the gastronomic side of the restaurant, we glanced at the menu, realized our mistake -- and quickly rectified it!

After settling into our seats in a small, simple room on the other side of the restaurant (the "bistrot" side, as they called it), we chose our dishes and were chatting quietly when we noticed that one of the women at the table next to ours had gotten up to open up the curtains in order to allow some sun into the room, which was admittedly a bit dark. Apparently the waitress forewarned her to be careful, but alas -- a bit too late! As the curtain rod tumbled to the floor, the woman quickly jumped out of the way. My boyfriend's father jumped up to give her a hand, and the scene soon became comedic: as the lady climbed up onto a chair to put the curtain rod back in place, Jacques held onto the chair for her to stabilize it. The curtain rod started falling again, and just as it looked like the woman might fall herself, Jacques took hold of her around the waist and helped her lift the rod back into place... My boyfriend and I glanced at each other, our mouths open, a bit speechless at Jacques' bravado and spontaneity. My boyfriend couldn't imagine doing the same thing if he had been in his father's position, and he attributed it to the fact that his father was a doctor and wasn't uncomfortable about grabbing a perfect stranger like that, even if he thought it was to give her a hand (mind you, I don't think she would have fallen -- she wasn't really in danger, but Jacques just did what he thought was right in the moment). But there there was definitely an impetuous element to his gesture. And we all tried to laugh off the moment of discomfort... (It seriously felt like a scene from a sitcom.)

Of course, the woman's husband had been absent during the early part of the incident, as he must have gone off to the bathroom. And he showed up right at the critical moment, when Jacques was giving his wife a hand -- so to speak! He didn't look too pleased, but his wife kept joking about it, brushing things off and saying she felt "flattered" by Jacques' attention and assistance... And ironically, she was American! My boyfriend leaned over and told me to chat with her (something he often does in situations like this) and I felt a bit awkward, particularly after the curtain rod incident. So he asked her where she was from, and we did end up talking for a few minutes about our origins, how long we had been living in France, etc... But I didn't want to drag on the conversation and figured it was best to allow everyone to enjoy their meal. The funny thing is, the subject kept coming back up while we were eating, and my boyfriend and his father persisted in talking about it, while I kept trying to change the subject. "What are you planning on getting for dessert?" I must have asked at least a half a dozen times... The woman's husband then decided he wanted to make an example of me, kind of the "ignorant American just arriving in France," I guess, and he proceeded to ask me if I knew what he was eating... I guess he was trying to be funny, or friendly, or something, but I don't really like those kinds of things, particularly coming from a complete stranger. I would have thought he would have known better, after being married to an American fo 40 years! He went on to say that it was "tête de veau" and implied, with his tone of voice, that it was something he knew an American would never eat. I just brushed it off, said I had chosen duck myself, and told him to enjoy his meal. But underneath I was boiling...

Well, after that déjeuner mouvementé, we drove on to Vézélay, walked up the hill to visit the basilica, and then walked back down to the car. We didn't linger for very long, as it was pretty chilly outside (to say the least!) and we were all anxious to arrive in Besançon. I thought the second half of the trip would be much shorter, but unfortunately I didn't end up sleeping much at all, and we didn't make it to his sister's house until nearly 8:00. I didn't realize they lived right across the street from the village church, which was a nice touch -- I love hearing church bells chime throughout the day!

We've been having a nice, quiet Christmas together, and I've taken a few photos, which I hope to eventually post here on the blog (I've also baked a ton of cookies!). But the next few days are going to be hectic, as my boyfriend and I are taking a train back up to Paris tomorrow morning, and then I will be flying to the U.S. on Thursday to visit my family for New Year's. So I may be "out of commission", so to speak, for a few weeks... Then again, I just realized that this is my first post in almost three weeks anyway, so I guess that's nothing new! I'm going to do my best to become a more consistent blogger in 2008 -- we'll see how long I stick to that resolution.

And on that note, I shall leave you, all my dear friends throughout the blogosphere, and wish you a very Merry Christmas (If you celebrate, of course! Happy holidays to everyone in any case!)... See you in the New Year!

Event-Filled Week(s)

2007-12-06T11:34:00.000Z

Sometimes these days I can't seem to keep up with things, but then there are other times, in the middle of the day, when I feel like I'm not doing nearly enough -- the irony of our time, I guess... I know that as the holidays approach time is only going to fly by faster, and the end of the month always hits me before I even realize it, with a pile of holidays cards still sitting on my desk patiently waiting to be stamped and sent. This year I'm determined to at least send out my cards to the U.S. by the 15th, holding onto my French cartes de voeux until the New Year -- one of the advantages of the French holiday traditions being that cards are sent in the New Year, and that custom holds that you have until the end of the month of January to get them out to one and all. Of course, in the past I've taken full advantage of this extended deadline, sending out some of my American cards down to the wire (using the French system as an excuse!), but I'd like to improve my card-sending skills, and avoid this procrastination that I appear to have ingrained in me.

Last week I unexpectedly attended several events that turned out to be wonderful experiences, ones I will not soon forget, and I have to admit that it is nice to have these kinds of appointments on my calendar at this time of year, when I'm inclined to get a bit of the cafard if I spend too much time at home alone. The curse of all expats, I guess! On Monday I crossed the Seine for a book-signing at Shakespeare & Co. -- Jeanette Winterson read from her latest book, The Stone Gods, and I couldn't resist picking up several books from her backlist as well, for myself and a few friends. I only just discovered her writing, I have to admit, thanks to dear Lauren, of course, who is my favorite source of wonderful literary (and cultural) inspiration these days. I'm looking forward to plunging into her writing over the holidays, when I'll have some time off from the daily grind and will be able to (finally!) throw myself into a few good novels. For some reason recently I've been having a really hard time reading for pleasure, a pastime that I've always taken for granted. I don't know if it's just the distractions of every day life or other preoccupations that are taking up too much space in my mind, but in any case I'm impatient to dive back into a good book again. I've also been disappointed by a few recent reads, and I have to admit that I count on a good book to pull me in fairly quickly in order to stick it out until the end... Perhaps I'm a bit too impatient and demanding, but I've reached a point now where I've decided that there are simply too many books waiting on my bedside table to be read, and I'm not about to waste my reading time forcing myself to enjoy a book that just doesn't do it for me. Basta -- life is simply too short, and I'm no longer reading out of obligation after all! Although sometimes I wonder if I may have missed my calling...

Winterson's reading was spectacular, by the way -- she was so dramatic and passionate when reading from her text, and she even went so far as to say that she practices a bit beforehand, that it's the least she can do, given the fact that we go out of our way to come to see her read. She really got into it, and climbed up on the table in the back of the shop so that we could all have a clear view of her throughout the reading. When I had her sign my books afterwards, I even picked up a copy of her children's book, The King of Capri, illustrated by Jane Ray -- when I saw it sitting there, tantalizingly, on the table, I knew I had to add it to my growing collection of children's books at home. It's a lovely fairy tale, with all the best elements: gorgeous, colorful illustrations, a story with a moral, and some appealing characters, including a little Italian cat.

Thursday night I was lucky enough to attend an excellent SCBWI France event held at the home of one of the organization's members in the 17th, where Uri Shulevitz spoke about his work for more than two hours (!!). He answered questions and went into great detail about his inspiration, his favorite forms of media when illustrating, his influences and even his most current work, which is to be published in early 2008. I was fascinated and couldn't help taking notes during the discussion, and I left the event feeling uplifted and inspired, convinced that I will soon apply my own inspiration to some drawings once again, and hopefully soon. Mr. Shulevitz's talk focused on the "invisible picture" in a drawing, as he called it, or the empty spaces in between two objects that ties them together, that unify a drawing and bring it to life. He emphasized that the "third picture" inside of a drawing is one that in fact you cannot necessarily see but that is only visible in your mind and is therefore stimulated by the story itself. In that sense, he explained, the meaning of a series of pictures in a story is often beyond the story itself and is made up of the elements that are underlying the story. The bigger picture, in fact, "needs to be fed by what's underneath."

Another point Mr. Shulevitz made during his talk that stayed with me is the importance of making a moment as specific as possible in a picture book in order to make the story itself more universal -- hence, a universal story can be made more personal and even more appealing. I was thrilled to be able to purchase a copy of one of his most famous books, Snow, which won the Caldecott Honor in 1999 and is magical in its use of spare text with enchanting, evocative and incredibly detailed watercolor images. All in all, I had a really wonderful evening, and thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of the event, including the delicious meal, the captivating presentation and discussion, and, of course, the company!

Tonight I'm off to attend another book-signing, once again at Shakespeare & Co., so I can pick up a few more copies of Clotilde's wonderful first cookbook. I already have a copy of my own, of course, that I got back in the spring when it was first published (fairly stained and a bit beat-up around the edges!), but I'd like to bring one home to my mom for Christmas, and possibly another for one of my closest friends in the States as well. Here's hoping I can get to the bookshop early enough for a good seat, and that I'll be able to get my hot little hands on several copies of her book! It's always a pleasure to hear Clotilde speak about her cooking and her writing, and her success is such an inspiration. This is one extremely multi-talented, warm, engaging and creative gal -- I have to admit that her blog is responsible for my motivation to finally get cracking in the kitchen. So I know this evening is going to be a particularly memorable event as well! I can hardly wait...

The Intrigue of "The Big Sleep"

2007-11-28T15:12:00.000Z

Thanks to Riana over at These Days in French Life, I came across this fascinating op-ed piece from The New York Times... I have to say, this really got me thinking... And I know we live in an entirely different day and age, of course, and that we are meant to supposedly "move forward" in our approach to modern life, but who's to say that sometimes that act of moving forward might not -- or cannot -- involve a few elements of stepping back in time as well? Or learning from our ancestors and their slower approach to life in order to better preserve the world we live in? And perhaps we could learn to better appreciate our families, all those we love, by detaching ourselves just a bit more from all the material things that tie us to today's society?

I haven't put Riana's lessons to good use yet in my own daily activities, not nearly as much as I'd like, and I fully admit to succumbing to big-city temptations far more often than I should these days... (Yeah, I like some of the finer things too, I won't deny that!) But all that she has accomplished in her Slow Year has really inspired me in my own approach to life, and I will be putting these aspirations into action more and more with time. On that note, I really have conflicting feelings about Sarkozy's approach to certain elements of French society, and how things should change... I've always been a bit "on-the-fence" about my political leanings, and I've never spoken out about them here on my blog, perhaps out of fear of confrontation or disagreement (I've always hated arguments, although I know that French society is basically built on the beauty of debate!). And there are in fact some elements of Sarkozy's proposals that, in theory, make sense and seem to -- perhaps (do you sense my hesitatation here?) -- point us in the right direction. But why is it drummed into us from an early age, in today's society, to work, work, work -- hard and long -- to make more money so that we can, in fact, "be happy"? I know that in today's world we obviously all need to make money, to make a living, to get by, to survive -- but why does this have to be at the cost of our own personal happiness and fulfillment? Why does money have to be ultimately equated with our happiness? More and more I'm questioning this concept, realizing that my own happiness comes from the simplest of things. I'm already tired of the rat race at 33, and I don't even have a particularly stressful job! I'm tired of running after the "almighty dollar" -- or Euro in my case -- I want my happiness and fulfillment to come from those simple things. I know, I know -- you're all going to sigh and say, "You poor thing, but unfortunately, my dear, that's just not the way the world works!" And I guess you'd probably be right...

Or would you? I still have a problem with it. I just don't think I'm wired that way.

And don't get me wrong: I know there's nothing wrong with working hard, being ambitious, accomplishing incredible things. I just don't think I was necessarily cut out to be one of those people. I admire those who do set goals, who make so much happen, who get ahead and make great names for themselves. And I'm certainly not criticizing them. I think it would be great if there could be a better balance of both these kinds of people in the world... And I certainly don't expect anything to be handed to me on a plate, without any effort -- I of course realize that working hard brings great reward as well. But what's so wrong with spending more time with our families instead of working all the time, having in fact different values? Isn't that what a work-life balance is all about? Can we ever escape from this race?

My boyfriend has long said that he agrees with a lot of Sarkozy's principles, but I just don't know if this "work more to earn more" concept really applies to us -- that's the irony of this whole thing! I see how hard he has worked for years in a thankless job that has exhausted him and made him wonder about his own future. But at the same time, his philosophical side has allowed him to find happiness in the smallest, simplest of things, most notably the time he spends with his family and on vacation, away from the craziness of urban city life. It's a contradiction in action: obviously we have to work in that big city to be able to benefit from the comforts of the vacation away, but isn't there a better way of reconciling the two? And I just don't know if I necessarily want to "work more to earn more" myself as I get older... I believe I want more time to treasure the precious, valuable things in life, things that sometimes slip through our fingers faster than we all realize. When my boyfriend's mother passed away less than two years ago, that fact came into focus much sooner than any of us expected -- his father had worked very hard for many years to provide for his family, and after retiring, he planned on spending more time with the ones he loves, doing other things that he loves as well. But then he lost, far too soon, the one person who meant the most to him in the world... These are the curve balls that life throws at us sometimes, but it still makes me question our way of life.

I know that we all must struggle with these questions, and that in a way you may find these reflections of mine fairly clichéd and idealistic -- unrealistic to say the least. And I don't even know if there's a real "point" to my ramblings here today... Except to say that the "stop to smell the roses" approach is one of the main reasons why I fell in love with France! It was what made me feel comfortable here so many years ago, what made me feel at home. I have never really been able to put my finger on it exactly, never been able to describe to my family what kept me here. But I really think that this sense of wonder, this appreciation of the beauty of things around us without feeling compelled to have more at all times, finding happiness with less -- this is one of the primary things that keeps me here.

And to be honest, I'm sometimes a bit frightened that all of that is going to change, and faster than we realize -- far too fast for our own good. I feel lucky to have been able to experience some wonderful things in this country over the last 5-10 years, and very blessed in many ways. And of course I know that France is in need of reform, of improvements on many levels -- but what country isn't? My greatest fear is that this country may become a place that I no longer recognize, a place that it was never meant to be. Do we really want France to turn into another form of America? Please don't misunderstand me: I'm proud of my roots and my heritage, as well as the freedom and democracy that my native country represents, but I call France my home today for a reason. Wouldn't transforming France entirely ruin everything that we have come to know and love about it?

Sorry for this rambling tangent... It was just inspired by the article, and for once I really had to get my thoughts out there.

Now HERE'S a Nice Way to Cheer Me Up...

2007-11-19T16:25:00.000Z

He had me at "Lunch?" Talk about reading my mind... And raising my wilted spirits, boosting my morale -- all that jazz... The way to a woman's heart is apparently through her stomach as well, at least in my case anyway!

When the phone rang at my desk around 12:30, I picked it up expectantly, recognizing my boyfriend's cell phone number on the raised screen. Perfect timing. It was so nice to hear from him, and even though most of our calls and exchanges throughout the day are completely mundane and inconsequential, this one bode well: he wanted to know if I would like to join him for lunch. After a dentist's appointment in the morning, he had decided to stay in the city a bit longer before taking his time getting back to our apartment in the western suburbs. He had a day off for once, a rarity, and it felt like a real luxury for us to share this time together. We hardly ever go to lunch together, as our lunch hours never coincide and I have to take the métro or bus to get to him anyway, but this time was an exception. Plus, most days I bring some leftovers from home, easier to warm up in our office kitchen and enjoy quietly with a book or with a few colleagues (plus, far more economical, of course!).

We felt like naughty schoolchildren -- or at least I did... When he suggested the brasserie, I couldn't help but say, "Is that really reasonable?" I knew it was exceptional, but it still felt forbidden somehow... But really, how often do we do this? We've been trying to pay attention to our budget, but some days just call for a treat. Today was definitely one of them. After grumbling into work this morning, fighting the crowds at St. Lazare along with hundreds of thousands of other commuters, I definitely needed something to cheer me up. Le Diplomate fit the bill, as it has a couple other times in the past (I'll never forget the time the waitress managed to save me a slice of rapidly-disappearing strawberry tart -- she will forever remain a favorite in my heart! And she still remembers it too...).

We first shared a foie gras aux figues -- heavenly! Really excellent, the best foie gras I've had in a long time. And then on to a fricassée de faisan avec jardinière de légumes... We enjoyed the meal with a glass of red wine, St. Emilion for me and St. Amour for him (I only opted out of the St. Amour because it was served chilled; I just don't like cool red wine! Otherwise, the romantic name is tempting, trust me. OK, you can call me cheesy, I don't care!). And then we shared a fondant au chocolat for dessert. So we managed to make the meal a bit more reasonable by sharing both the entrée and dessert. Still, it was far more expensive than anything we'd usually spend, with a hefty pricetag. But the meal was a nice moment of calm and happiness in the middle of an otherwise hectic period for me right now. So I honestly don't regret one second of it... On the contrary, it brought a broad smile to my face, and put me on a high that I'm sure will last...

At least until I make it back to the Gare St. Lazare to fight my way to the train back home tonight!

** On a sidenote, I managed to get a train around 7:00 last night, and even snagged a seat, which was darn near miraculous... But the only little bémol (I love this expression!) was that as I maneuvered my way down the train's stairs to get off at my station 20 minutes later, I only then realized that I had forgotten my umbrella under my seat (what was I thinking?!). Argh, another umbrella shot to the wind! But it's not as if it was one that I had attached any sentimental value to... I picked it up at Target in the U.S. last year, but it was super-practical in my bag and easy to use. What made me smile once again was when my boyfriend said, "Just think that someone who probably really needed that umbrella figured it was their lucky day." Isn't that a nice way to look at things?!

Mon petit déjeuner idéal

2007-11-18T10:54:00.000Z

Well, this is basically how I like to start out my day on the weekend -- truth be told, I'd love to be able to indulge in this kind of breakfast every day of the week, but in spite of getting up extra early I still can never manage to squeeze in enough time to eat more than a few slices of bread with some coffee before heading off to work. Sundays are my exception, though, and the photo above shows what I love to enjoy, slowly and preferably with a good book (or with my boy!), before lazing around the apartment or heading out, depending on my mood and my motivation level.

This photo was obviously taken a few months back, early September I believe, when it was still peach season, or the end of the season anyway... In today's case, the peach was replaced by a pink grapefruit (complete winter addiction, I can't seem to get enough of them!) and the coffee by a hot chocolate... I can't let a Sunday brunch go by without my oeuf à la coque -- although years ago I would have probably shrunk away in horror from a soft-boiled egg, these days I love scooping out the eggy goodness. Sea salt and freshly ground pepper make it all the better.

Anyway, I just wanted to share a tidbit from one of my favorite meals of the day -- of course, I'm a complete gourmande and love eating any meal, but breakfast just about tops the list for me. Funny thing is, back in the U.S. I loved breakfast too, but it usually consisted of bagels and cream cheese with orange juice, perhaps some coffee too. When I go back home to visit, I do love to have bagels then, but I don't necessarily miss them all that much over here, given the fact that the bread is so good. I've become a bit of a bread snob, though, because not just any ol' baguette will cut it for me anymore -- I like the good stuff! Perfect with salted butter and fig jam, my favorite. The baguette in the photo above is a multigrain one, and my boyfriend and I go out of our way to pick it up from a boulangerie that's not as convenient, but has just about the best bread in our neighborhood. So it's worth the walk in the cold...

Speaking of which, I'm off to toast myself up some warm baguette now, and to prepare some lentil soup. I need something comforting on this freezing Sunday! I plan on staying inside all day long... And if I'm feeling motivated enough, I might just make an apple-pear crumble with ginger. Ohhh, and I even have some speculoos in the cupboard -- the perfect crumble topping! Wake me up when it's time for breakfast again...

Velouté de butternut aux épices

2007-11-05T11:48:00.000Z

* UPDATED - now with recipe! *

Last Thursday was All Saints' Day, a holiday here in France, so I had a quiet day at home with my boy. Halloween came and went this year and I hardly even noticed, which is unlike me. I usually love to take in the decorations and even attend a party or two, but that just wasn't in the cards this time around... I didn't hear from a friend of mine who usually holds an annual Halloween fête, so perhaps this year something came up -- last year I had a good time dressing up as a chat noir, but unfortunately I didn't yet have a camera so I wasn't even able to immortalize the hilarious moment. I had gone all-out with the makeup, so the look was pretty convincing. A friend of mine did take a photo, but then I never got to see it... Oh well! I sometimes miss the Halloween fun from back home in the States, and although in recent years the French have gotten more into the holiday, it's true that it just isn't quite the same. Granted, there's a lot of commercialism in the holiday itself, particularly in the U.S., but it's still a great opportunity for kids to have a blast dressing in costume. When I used to work in children's books I helped out with organizing a big annual Halloween party, and although I was always stressed about my own costume, I loved seeing the wee ones dressed to the nines, wearing face makeup and enjoying the candy.

Thursday afternoon I took my time preparing a wonderful new recipe (I tend to be very long in the kitchen anyway -- my boy always jokes that we don't eat before midnight some nights, which is only a slight exaggeration!), a spicy butternut squash soup that was rich, creamy and delicious. I have to credit French Saveurs magazine for this little gem, and I'll be sure to include the recipe here later today, once I get my hands on it again. This time around I also had a little helper, because a friend of my boy's came over with his son and he joined me in the kitchen. He watched me making my way around the tiny space, curiosity piqued, and asked all kinds of questions. When I opened up the squash and started cutting it into cubes, he seemed fascinated -- so I asked him if he'd like to help out a bit. "Why don't you start by scraping out all those seeds?" He willingly obliged, and concentrated on pulling out every last one of the seeds with his fingers and putting them in a small bowl. We toasted the seeds in a small pan with some salt, and after cooking down the squash in a mix of chicken stock and coconut milk, we puréeed the soup in a blender, added in the toasted squash seeds, some poitrine fumée, which is basically the French version of bacon, and some fresh cilantro leaves. Valentin, my kitchen aide, rinsed the cilantro while standing on a stool over the sink, as you can see in the photo, and pulled the leaves off the stems. He did this so carefully, and I was blown away by how meticulous he was about everything. When we served the soup at the end, he was thrilled by the result -- even if the curry and the ginger made it a bit spicy! "Ca pique, mais c'est pas grave !" He didn't seem to mind too much, and ate half a bowl on his own, adding in some extra seeds from time to time. The seeds reminded me of the pumpkin seeds my grandmother would roast in the oven when I was a little girl.

I had such a good time making this soup with Valentin, I couldn't resist starting over again on Sunday with a new batch. I had bought two butternut squash at the market last week, so I had enough to make two rounds. Unfortunately, for some reason the second squash had barely any seeds! Good thing I didn't use that one to make the soup with Valentin... Here he is, super-proud of his efforts. He's quite the little cook! Wish I had started this young...

Velouté de butternut aux épices

(Spicy Butternut Squash Soup)

"Délicieusement onctueux !"

1 medium-sized butternut squash (the recipe doesn't specify weight, but I think that the average-sized squash would do -- the soup only serves about four small bowls, and it is very rich)

1 tablespoon of curry powder (more or less -- this is actually a lot of curry powder, so the second time around I only used 1/2 tablespoon -- depends on how spicy you like it!)

1/2 teaspoon of ginger powder, or 1 teaspoon of freshly grated ginger

50 cl of chicken stock

1 small onion

10 cl of coconut milk or light cream (crème de fleurette) (again, depending on how creamy and rich you like it)

a few fresh cilantro leaves

2 tablespoons of grilled or toasted squash seeds

4 slices of poitrine fumée, or bacon

30 g of butter

Salt (which I actually found unnecessary with the chicken stock and the bacon slices)

Peel the butternut squash and cut it into small cubes. [Also, reserve the seeds inside the squash -- you can toast these later in a small pan, with some salt if you like.] Peel and finely chop the onion. Warm up the butter in a large pot or Dutch oven and cook the onion on light heat for about 3 minutes, until it is transparent or a bit soft. Add in the ginger and curry powder and cook for another minute or so, while stirring. Add in the butternut cubes and cook them for about two minutes, again while stirring with a wooden spoon or spatula. Pour in the chicken stock and the coconut milk or cream. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and allow the soup to simmer for 20 minutes (until the squash cubes are nice and tender).

While the soup was simmering, I dry-roasted the squash seeds in a pan and then did the same with the slices of poitrine fumée until they were nice and toasty-brown and a bit crunchy.

Mix the soup in a blender or with an immersion blender (I know a regular blender is more high-maintenance, but I find it gives me better results, and the texture of the soup is creamier), add some salt if necessary. You can then serve the soup with a slice of the bacon in each bowl, or you can slice up the bacon into tiny pieces. Sprinkle on a few cilantro leaves and some toasted squash seeds, and voilà -- creamy, spicy butternut goodness!

* I found this recipe in French Saveurs magazine, november 2007.

Now THAT was An Adventure!

2007-10-19T15:53:00.000Z

So I Vélib'ed for the first time this morning... And although there were a few small hiccups along the way, I had a great time! At least those darn strikes were good for something in the end! (and I so wish I could bicycle to work like that more often...) Now here's just hoping they don't last, because I'd like to return home and sleep in my own bed for once... Apparently the rugby game tonight may have a temporary hand in preventing further extension of the strikes, but who knows how long that will last.

The last few days have seen me trekking around the city, sleeping in friends' and colleagues' spare beds, depending therefore on their kindness and generosity, and traveling to work in the morning by bike or by foot. Wednesday night I had dinner with a friend, who generously allowed me to stay with her and her husband in their adorable apartment in the 11th. I thought I would have to walk from there (between Bastille and the Gare de Lyon) to work near the Parc Monceau on Thursday morning, but as it turns out Line 14 was working perfectly (again, automatic lines like that one seem to be the best solution for avoiding strikes in the future, if you ask me!) and there weren't even that many crowds. I think a lot of people must have ended up staying home to avoid the craziness. But there were also quite a few people on the streets, either hoofing it or cycling away. It was a beautiful, crisp fall morning, the sun was shining, and I must say that I didn't mind the walk from St. Lazare to rue de Courcelles at all... I even had time to stop for coffee and a piece of carrot cake, so I treated myself!

Last night one of my colleagues, who lives on the Left Bank near Denfert-Rochereau, told me I could stay at her place, and it worked out perfectly. I did have to walk to her apartment -- and to be honest with you, once again, I didn't really mind, because even though it was a long walk, it was a pleasant one because it wasn't raining and it wasn't that cold. It took me about an hour and a half, even though she had said it would be less -- but my colleague is a first-class athlete, participating in marathons on a regular basis and walking, running or cycling to work pretty much every day. I was stopped for directions by several befuddled people, either tourists or those who were not used to walking around the city. One poor lady stopped me at the edge of the boulevard St. Germain, just as it hits the Pont de la Concorde, and asked in a daze, "Odéon? Where's Odéon?" I explained that she must have passed it a ways back, because it was in the direction she had been walking from -- and she nodded and mumbled that she had come all the way from Duroc... Yikes! As I passed the crossroads of boulevard Raspail and rue de Rennes, a young guy who appeared to be from Eastern Europe (he had an accent, but I couldn't recognize it) asked me in broken French, "République? Je cherche République..." I was stunned, because République is all the way on the other end of the city, across the Seine, in the northeast -- I tried to explain this to him, and he just looked at me disbelievingly. I think he must have mixed up names or something...

When I got to my colleague's place, we all had couscous for dinner -- she said I was really lucky, because usually during the week she and her husband don't do much cooking (who really has time for it?!), but they had decided ahead of time to have couscous together because she's prepping for a marathon this weekend. So it was nice to enjoy the meal and chat about the strikes, our work situation, and other various and sundry everyday matters.

My colleague loves to Vélib' in to work in the morning, so after dinner she asked me if I was up for it -- and I thought, of course, why not? I had been wanting to have the chance to try out the system for a while, so this was the perfect opportunity -- even if the strikes had crowded up the traffic in the streets, requiring us to be even more vigilant on the bikes. Of course, that's a necessity in any normal circumstances, but we just had to be extra careful. After nabbing two bikes near her building (we were really lucky in this case, because I think we arrived just in the nick of time -- several bikes were damaged, and we got the last two good ones), we set out, but about 25 minutes later we tried to switch them out at another station. For some reason the machine wouldn't accept my card identification code, and after having already locked in the other bike, I needed a new one. The check-in process was pretty simple, but I still needed another bike to make it the rest of the way to work... As luck would have it, two Vélib' employees were stacking damaged bikes on a sort of truck nearby, and we asked them for some help. They were super-friendly, but neither one of them could figure out why the machine wouldn't accept my code. Finally, one of them (a younger chap, with a friendly smile) just swiped his Carte Intégrale on the machine and told me to take one of the bikes -- I couldn't believe it! I was a bit taken aback, and didn't know what to do, because obviously I wanted to use the bike, but I didn't want him to get into any trouble. He insisted that it was okay, and just made me "promise" to return the bike once I got to work! Of course, I said -- that was the plan. Apparently my colleague later explained to me that some people have actually been STEALING the bikes! I couldn't believe that, but then again, I guess I shouldn't be surprised...

So we made it to work, on-time even, and after returning our bikes we dashed into the office. I had been wearing two sweaters and a jacket, so you can imagine how sweaty I was at that point! And my colleague had been patiently waiting for me, looking back and making sure I was following closely the whole time. I know I slowed her down, but we both had a good time in the end. Like I said, a real adventure -- and the brighter side of the strikes for me. But the terrible thing is, I read about a horrible accident today on-line, and this did send chills down my spine... Please, all Vélib' riders out there, soyez vigilants ! It only takes a few seconds...

Morning Mayhem

2007-10-16T11:31:00.000Z

Ahhhhh, what a morning! And I don't mean that in a good way. I'm no longer used to 6:30 wake-up calls, and I am definitely not a morning person... Have I mentioned that before? The fact that I am decidely NOT a morning person? Well, I'm saying it again. Especially after this morning. I know that you can get a heck of a lot done by waking up early, but my body is just not cut out for it. At least not yet... Who knows, maybe one day that might change (of course, I'm not going to hold my breath!) -- or I may be forced to change myself. But in the meantime, I am fighting against it with every bone in my body.

Especially when the wake-up requires a stop at the local medical lab to get some tests done, something which can't be done directly at the doctor's office here in France. I know we have an excellent healthcare system, for the most part anyway, and trust me -- I'm not complaining. I just wish I could get the lab tests done in the same place where I have the doctor's appointment. So it didn't require crawling out of bed at the crack of dawn to have either some needles stuck in me, or other fun forays into the medical domain...

My boyfriend had gotten up yesterday morning to go have some bloodwork done himself, to check up on his cholesterol levels and make sure he was doing okay. It's a necessity after the health scare he had last April, and we have to monitor his heart condition on a regular basis. And I'm constantly feeling guilty about this, because I'm wondering if I'm not cooking the right things, if I'm not taking care of him as well as I should... Of course, I know stress doesn't help things either, and I'm not responsible for everything. I like him to be happy, so I try to treat him from time to time, but then I get the gnawing feeling that I probably shouldn't have made that sweet chocolate mousse on Sunday... Especially if I had known he was going to have tests done on Monday morning!! Even he didn't think about it, didn't make the connection until he got his results on the Internet today... Argh, the triglycerides are not looking good, and I have a feeling the chocolate mousse definitely didn't help.

So off I went this morning, leaving my boyfriend wandering frantically around the apartment, tearing apart every room in search of his car keys, for gosh's sakes, which he could no longer find in order to move his car from one side of the street to the other... We live in one of those neighborhoods where the cars need to be moved midway through the month for one reason or another... I can't remember why this morning, for the life of me, he has to do that. But if he can't find his keys, he can't exactly move his car, now can he? I decided not to harp on the fact that it seems incomprehensible to me that he could lose his own car keys, as I knew this wouldn't help matters much, and I also knew that if I started looking myself I would get as frantic as he already was, and that wasn't going to help either. So off I went to the lab as planned, did what I had to do, stopped by the good boulangerie near the lab, and brought home piping-hot fresh bread for us to share at breakfast. He had calmed down by then, having found his keys in the interim, but still had to go out to move the car.

While he was gone I tried to put as much of the junk back that he had taken out in his hunt, but still hadn't finished when he walked back in the door -- damn, is he quick! And I'm as slow as a snail... I don't think I was awake yet, that was part of the problem. I got the coffee going, slapped on some makeup so I wouldn't look too dead at the office today, and finally wobbled into the kitchen for breakfast. We were both in crappy moods, and the lost keys hadn't helped. I was of course relieved he had finally found them, but I was pretty sure he would anyway -- and guess where they were?? Ha ha... At the bottom of his tennis bag. I think I could have told him that ahead of time -- I don't know why I didn't think of it... (Jenn, are you reading this? What is it about men again?!?!...)

And of course you would think that getting up so early would allow me to head out of the apartment early to catch the perfect train and get to work well ahead of time, right? Well, you would think wrong... I ran out the door the same time as usual, as I got distracted in the kitchen trying to clean up after our breakfast. Old habits never die... I ran down the street and arrived, out of breath, at the train station, only to see that the train I usually take was going to be five minutes late. Well, perfect, right?! Yeah, I guess, except there was no guarantee that it would get me to work on time...

And, well, I did make it in the end, so that's certainly a relief -- but it's given me a bad taste of things to come... An ominous foreshadowing of events this Thursday in Paris, when a huge grève générale is expected on the whole métro/train/RER/bus system.

Oh, how lucky we are. We knew this was coming, but I have got a baaaaad feeling about it this time around... Anyone remember Fall 1995? Yikes!

Reflections on Friendship

2007-10-09T14:51:00.000Z

I met a friend last Thursday evening for a drink after work, at a table in a café on the Place Pereire, and we squeezed in so much in just under an hour and a half... I could have stayed chatting much longer, as I wasn't in a hurry that night, but she had to get home to meet her husband. I'm always in awe of how much we have to catch up on when we get together, but then again, I think the last time we met for drinks was in March -- believe it or not! The time just flies, and I'm constantly reminded of when my parents used to say things like that when I was a kid -- how much faster time seems to go by as an adult. This fact has become more and more vivid for me in the past year or so. In a sense, I don't feel my age at all -- I'm dumbfounded by the fact that I am, in fact, in my early 30s -- I feel much younger in my head and in my heart. And then at other times, for example after a long day, when all I want to do is return home and rest, do simple, homebody-type things, I can't help thinking that I'm acting much older than I should, or that my interests and hobbies revolve around older types of things -- like cooking and hanging out at home! A bit ridiculous, I know, but I've realized more and more that I'm just not cut out for the partying scene -- I guess I never have been, but for years I would try to blend in and make myself enjoy things that just weren't my cup of tea. Now I'm realizing that of course there's no shame in that, and I might as well revel in the things I love, no matter what the rest of the world may think.

But the last two weeks or so my calendar has been packed with more "social occasions" than usual, and trust me, I'm not complaining -- I love catching up with friends, having something to look forward to during my long days at work. It's what keeps me going -- isn't that the case for a lot of us? I guess not everyone, because some of you lucky dogs out there actually have jobs and professions that you enjoy, but I just haven't found that niche yet, unfortunately. At least I can say that I'm in a country I love, in spite of all its flaws and frustrations, and that I have a lot of wonderful people in my life who make the long days worth getting past. That's something, isn't it? That and knowing that there is some potential out there for future endeavors, future possibilities -- I just have to keep my mind, my eyes and all the doors open.

But when the social outings pile up, and I have a heck of a time figuring out how to squeeze it all in, that's when I feel like my head is going to explode. And I don't even have kids! I know how hard it must be for folks like Jenn to find a balance for herself and her family. And here I am having a hard time just fitting in enough time for my boy and me. This week is jam-packed with fun, but I also have to be sure to fit in some time doing those necessary things around the apartment, like cooking, cleaning and laundry. Obviously life -- and living! -- are much more important, but then again you certainly want to feel good about the home you're returning to at the end of the day. Such a juggle!

When my friend Sarah and I got together last week, we found ourselves reminiscing about the time we met back in the States, in the late '90s, when I was working for a French company as a marketing assistant. She was an au pair hoping to improve her English and we were both spending time at the Alliance Française in Washington, DC (I didn't want to lose my French, so I was serving wine and cheese, and she wanted to meet fellow French-speakers living in the area). One day one of the guys I was working with at the time saw a photo of us together, and he said, eyes blazing, "I have got to meet her!" I was stunned by his adamance, but I eventually complied, knowing full well that he wouldn't leave me alone until I did... Their first meeting didn't lead to many sparks -- at least I didn't think so! -- but about a week later I received a call in my car, and Sarah told me that they were officially a couple. They had really hit it off, both loving to swing dance and sharing so many of the same interests. It was unexpected, but I was of course thrilled for them.

Fast-forward eight years later, and they are now married and living in la région parisienne. We lost touch there for a while -- life and all that -- but then caught up again about a year and a half ago, and since then Sarah and I have tried to get together to have drinks from time to time. Again, we always have a million things to talk about, and this time around was no exception. In fact, I felt like we were really on the same wavelength in so many ways, and a lot of what she said to me really reassured me about my current fears and concerns, regarding life and the future in general. It's funny how we so often see so many wonderful things in other people, how much we admire and appreciate their qualities, and then in fact they tell us that they see those same things in us. Of course it's a good feeling, but it's also kind of unsettling...

Well, before I head off in some kind of random philosophical direction, let's just say that I'm hoping we can make our evening drink sessions more regular, and not so few and far between. I love the conversations we have, the memories we share, and the thoughts and feelings that get stirred up in these simple moments of friendship.

It's funny, because I've always thought that my memories, of either my childhood or even of more recent years, were never very vivid, but when I actually think long and hard about things, specific images and precise moments really do come to mind. One of them is a party that I attended with Sarah on a July 4th weekend years ago, by the Chesapeake Bay, when a wonderful Australian friend of mine was in town for a few days. We studied together in a program at the Sorbonne for a semester, and he was one of the brightest spots in those months of study. He recently e-mailed me on "our" birthday (we share exactly the same birthdate, both day and year!) to share some pics of his son. There was the whisper of possibility, of something more happening between us several times over the years, but it wasn't meant to be... When he came to visit me in the U.S., he was living in London at the time and I was in the early stages of a relationship. Today he is married with a baby boy, and here I am back in France. I remember the dress I wore that sweltering July night, the strap that snapped when we were dancing, the fact that we had stayed in touch in spite of the distance between us. I really hope I can continue to do the same as time continues to fly by, remembering each other when we can, and catching up whenever life makes it possible.

A Very French Moment of Inattention

2007-09-28T09:18:00.000Z

Last night I ended up staying out again after work, sharing a couple margaritas with a new friend in a nifty Mexican bar in the Marais neighborhood, followed by a couple platefuls of nachos and quesadillas. Haven't had food like that in ages! So it was well worth it, albeit completely unexpected. I had already been out the night before, 'til all hours, cavorting with several gal friends at the Burlesque Revue hosted by Gentry Lane, where I also met some other much more well-known Paris bloggers. But my intention after work yesterday was to touch base on some volunteer work I'm going to be doing for a children's book writer and illustrator organization (SCBWI France) in the coming months. I'm trying to tackle some of this work right now, and I'm just a bit nervous about the whole gig, because I don't want to let anyone down and I want to do a good job -- I just hope I'm going to be able to focus and buckle down when the time comes. But this is the kind of organization I've been wanting to get involved with for a while, so it can only be a good thing, right? Right. I just hope I'm not biting off more than I can chew...

Ahem, so the meeting was set up to touch base with a couple other gals involved in the process, and I was just meant to meet them and chat for a bit. But as they were super-busy and up to their gills in work, they didn't have time to talk logistics. So we decided to save that for another time in the near future, and my friend and I headed out to find a nearby bar to unwind after our respective long days at work (her hopping around town on a Velib' from one assignment to another, me chained to my desk...). A drink turned into a couple drinks, like I said above, and then some nibbles, which resulted in a full-fledged meal. So I didn't make it to the métro station 'til after 10:00. Not a problem under any normal circumstances, but I was really starting to feel the fatigue. I took my normal route home, with a correspondance at Charles-de-Gaulle Etoile for the RER train... And found, once again -- for the second time in less than two weeks -- that the interconnexion at Nanterre-Préfecture was down as some construction work is going on at the Nanterre-Université station. Basically this means that I'm in commuter hell, because I have to turn back around on my tracks and trudge on over to the other side of the station, take the train back in the other direction, make my way over to the Gare St. Lazare, and then take an SNCF suburb train home. Which is just fine and dandy -- when I'm not WIPED OUT and READY TO CRAWL INTO BED. I know, I know: after all, I'm the one who chose to go out, so you're not going to feel sorry for me. But this was the last thing I needed...

So after taking the alternate route back through the train system, as I finally approached St. Lazare on foot from nearby métro Havre-Caumartin, I found myself half-asleep and somewhat distracted by the bright street lamps. My attention was momentarily diverted by the Printemps department store windows, and as I swung my head to the right in that split second, I made the huge mistake of not watching where I was going -- I became a walking hypocrite! Because, in fact, this is a crime that I have found Parisians guilty of on more than one occasion, and it drives me off my rocker... And there I was, becoming the perfect example of what I can't stand. That's right: in that split second, I rammed into a poor unsuspecting woman walking in the opposite direction. Now, I say "poor, unsuspecting" because I feel for her -- I honestly felt bad for my moment of distraction! I felt terrible... But her response shocked me even more: before I could even mumble out an apology or an explanation, she had screeched "Il faut regarder où vous allez... ou changer de lunettes !!!" And when I say screeched, I seriously mean she put a lot of volume into those two lines. I was flummoxed, and it all happened so fast, I didn't even get a chance to respond. Now, again, I know I was in the wrong -- I was perfectly ready to recognize it -- but I honestly thought that this was just a wee bit uncalled-for... Over-react much?! I didn't even get a good look at the lady, but let's just say that she walked so quickly out of my line of vision that I can only assume she was about three feet tall...

When commuting, I go out of my way to follow Paris protocol: I step off the trains to allow other passengers to get off, even when it's not yet my stop, and I do my best to be respectful of others' space. I walk quickly, but I don't push (this is particularly grating, when people shove up behind you to get off at a station). I stand when the trains are crowded, allowing the strapontins to flip back up and free up some more space. But of course I'm not perfect, and every once in a while I find myself guilty of a commuting transgression. But this was totally unlike me -- and again, it was probably a result of my long day.

In any case, in that moment I realized how much I'm becoming more and more "French". Yes, my friends, say what you will, the French are well-known for walking quickly in one direction and looking in another at the same time. I've observed this phenomenon in more than one train station over the years, as well as on the streets, so the fact that I committed this cardinal sin makes me feel even worse. I've also been complaining more and more, a sign of the one of the French culture's favorite pastimes: râler.

But oh well, you never know what the end of an evening will bring you... It didn't tarnish my soirée, not entirely, but I was too tired at that point to dwell on it. I honestly believe that fatigue played a role in my distraction as well, so I'm trying not to feel too bad about it. After all, I'm sure that that particular dame didn't even give the incident a second thought...

The Most Amazing Meal

2007-09-26T15:49:00.000Z

I made the most amazing meal Sunday night... I know, I know -- that sounds so incredibly immodest! But all I can say is that it wasn't due to any particular skills on my part: I think it was simply a question of quality of ingredients, which are oh-so-important, and a good, solid recipe. For once, Elle à table did not disappoint, as it has been wont to do in recent times, leaving me paging through looking for some real inspiration, as well as some recipes that I can actually use on a daily basis. I find that this particular magazine has a bad habit of presenting complicated, fancy-schmancy recipes that just don't hold up over time; they're either fads or of-the-moment trends and I simply don't want to pull them out time and time again to enjoy them. At least, this has been my most recent experience -- because actually, last year at about this time of year, I found loads of ideas in the Elle, and it was one of the motivations that got me back in the kitchen. But then for months on end it would let me down: I would pick it up, purchase the latest issue, and then prepare very few of the dishes. So why did I keep buying it? Good question, especially since now you can get most of the recipes on-line at their website. I guess I was just hoping that something would jump out at me, month after month...

And finally, it has! Part of it is probably this time of year: I've realized that I love the seasonal foods at the market in September, in spite of the fact that the summer is ending and we're having to put fresh peaches and strawberries behind us. They were all pretty disappointing this year anyway, in my humble opinion. But I can't get enough of the figs, I love apples and pears, and we're leading into the perfect season for dishes simmered in a Dutch oven. Yes, that's right: I'm excited to be using my cocotte ! I bought one almost six months ago, and it's just now that I'm able to make great use of it. When I saw the recipe on the pages Friday night, I knew this was going to be my weekend project... Add in the chocolate cake recipe a good friend passed on to me on Friday at work, and I had my own recipe for a Sunday afternoon in the kitchen.

[Ironically, I was convinced that the recipe I used on Sunday would be on-line as well, so I could link to it here, but unfortuantely it isn't! So I'll have to copy it over here...]

****

Voilà my new favorite dinner menu:

Salade de figues, poires et parmesan
(I adapted this for two persons, but the recipe below is for four)

4 nice-size figs
2 ripe pears
the juice from 1/2 lemon
30 grams of grated parmesan
2 teaspoons of olive oil
a few drops of balsamic vinegar
fresh ground pepper

After washing the fruit, you simply core and cut the pears in thin slices, and the figs in quarters. Then you sprinkle some lemon juice over the fruit, mix it carefully, and then lay the fruit out carefully on plates. Grate some fresh parmesan over the fruit, drizzle on some olive oil and just a few drops of balsamic vinegar. Serve immediately, with some fresh ground pepper.

And now, la pièce de résistance -- OK, don't freak out here -- it's rabbit! It's my first time preparing it, but it was truly wonderful. I can see some of you cringing now, but rabbit is a wonderfully delicious alternative to chicken or other poultry, and if the meat is prepared the right way, it can be really rich and tender! This recipe was just right.

Râbles de lapin aux carottes et aux pruneaux
(recipe serves four, so we had leftovers!)

4 pieces of the rabbit's "torso", basically -- the back or "saddle" of the rabbit -- 100 grams each
4 slices of bacon (poitrine fumée), 10 g each
6 prunes with the pits removed
12 carottes nouvelles (fresher carrots, still in a bunch)
8 fresh green oignons (also still in a bunch -- these melt and become tender!)
1/2 cube of chicken bullion (or fresh chicken stock, if you have it)
1 teaspoon of coriander seeds
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1 small bouquet garni (with bay leaves and flat parsley)
a few extra parsley leaves and some fresh ground pepper

[This takes a little over an hour to prepare in total, including the slicing of vegetables and the simmering of the rabbit in the cocotte, for about 40 minutes.]

You start by wrapping each râble with a slice of bacon; the sweet guy at the poultry stand gave me some ficelle to use to wrap around the râbles, because I didn't know where to find it myself... Then you wash and peel the carrots and the onions. You slice the carrots in thin discs and slice the largest of the green onions in half, leaving some of the green stem on them. Toast the coriander seeds in a hot pan, just to bring out the flavor, for a few minutes, and then reserve them for later. Brown the rabbit in the olive oil in the cocotte for a few minutes, and then add salt, pepper, the coriander seeds, carrots, onions, prunes, the bouquet garni and the 1/2 cube of bullion, crumbled up. At this point, you allow the ingredients to cook for about 5 minutes. The recipe says to pour in only about 20 cL of water, but I actually poured in more than half that -- about a half a liter -- I just wasn't sure if the carrots would cook well without a bit more water. In fact, this might not have been necessary, but I still thought everything turned out beautifully, so I feel like 20 cL is cutting it a bit short.

You allow the dish to simmer for about 40 minutes, and then serve, sprinkling some fresh parsley on top.

****

(both recipes are from Elle à table, septembre 2007)

So that's how I spent a good part of my day on Sunday. I did some much-needed housecleaning as well, things I had been putting off for weeks, I'm ashamed to say. I finally scrubbed my oven and vaccumed the apartment from top to bottom. It was a great sense of accomplishment, and it laid the foundation for an evening of cooking satisfaction. I baked the gâteau au chocolat in the late afternoon, and then set to work on dinner at around 6:30 or so -- I may have gotten a bit of a late start, but I figured we never eat before 9:00 on Sundays anyway, so it wasn't a big deal.

I had never cooked rabbit before -- I can hear you gulping and gasping now! -- but it was just so good. Tender and tasty, worth the effort. But what am I talking about? There was hardly any effort involved, aside from the prep work: the slicing of the carrots and onions, the wrapping of the rabbit with the bacon... I was also pleased because the family that runs the chicken stand at the market are the greatest, and the father had passed on some string for me to use in my cooking. He explained the different parts of the rabbit, and how they're prepared. I had never heard the word râble before, so this was a new one for me.

The combination of flavors -- what can I say? It was heavenly... I haven't made a main dish that was this satisfying in a long time. My old stand-by these days is a dish that my boy's mother made years ago, one of his all-time favorites: pintades aux pommes et lardons. But this rabbit dish, simmered in the Dutch oven with carrots, spring onions, coriander seeds, parsley, bay leaves and prunes was the perfect concoction. As it bubbled away on the stovetop, the scent of the different ingredients wafted around the apartment and just blew me away. I couldn't wait to dig into it! And my expectations were more than met: the taste was just as good as the scent. My boyfriend loved it. I haven't heard him compliment me on a meal that much in a long time. (And it was even better the next day as my leftover lunch...) He thought the entrée was a bit more suspicious, so he wasn't as excited about that. I actually loved it myself. It was more of a savory fruit salad, a combination of pears, figs and freshly-shaved parmesan, along with a drizzling of olive oil, a sprinkling of fresh pepper and a few drops of balsamic vinegar. He thought it seemed more like a dessert, but of course it's the parmesan that makes it an appetizer. Fresh, fragrant and light -- what could be better?

I took a few photos, but I don't know if they're worth posting, because as I mentioned we ate at 9:00, so obviously there was no more natural light, and the pictures under bright fluorescent lightbulbs leave much to be desired. So you'll just have to imagine them... Trust me, it was unforgettable!

Wardrobe Wonder

2007-09-19T18:12:00.000Z

*UPDATE* Not to be a terrible influence or anything, but aren't the bags on this site drool-worthy? I especially love the Rebecca in grey... Man, am I going to have a hard time restraining cravings if I keep running into stuff like this...

Ah, now THIS is going to be a fun post... Quite the refreshing change from my previous rant-cum-diatribe. The Page Française passed on a sort of wardrobe challenge, and I have to admit that in spite of my recent attempts at cutting back on any consumer spending, I have always had a weakness for nice clothing -- for fashion in general, shall we say... It really depends on my mood, as is the case for many women out there I guess, but I do like to make an effort to look pulled-together, as much as possible, on a daily basis. I guess you could describe my uniform quotidien as classic with a twist... As I mentioned in a recent post, I love accessories, and I also love adding just that little touch to an outfit that makes it a bit more original -- even if most parts that make up the whole are very basic and simple. And then of course there are my lazy days, when I couldn't be bothered to throw anything original together at all. That's when I resort to jeans and a simple t-shirt-cardigan combination. I'm a cardigan girl, for sure. I have more of those than I could possibly remember off the top of my head...

These days I find that reasonably-priced, affordable and yet well-made clothes are virtually impossible to come by... Back in the States I guess I always depended on the constant day-to-day sales (there's always an excuse for a sale over there!) or outlet centers, sometimes splurging, probably more often than I care to admit, on something in particular at regular price, if I was crazy for it. But since I moved to France, or let's just say even more recently, I've been trying to restrain myself from one season to the next because I've finally realized that I do in fact have lots of clothes, and in spite of the fact that styles change from one year to the next, I'm realizing that I can certainly get by with what I have. But oh, the vanity-ridden desire and lust are still there, trust me! I may crave something, but I'm finally learning to apply more restraint to my cravings. And my ensuing actions. I'm hoping my bank account will one day thank me, because for the moment it holds nothing but scorn and resentment for leaving it so empty and alone.

But I have to add here that I go through color phases -- it's quite funny, actually, because whereas one year I may abhor a particular color, the next I might be madly looking all over for the perfect sweater in just that shade, yes that one that I wouldn't deign to wear just a year before. This fall I have to admit that I'm caving for the dark-blue-and-grey combination; I've actually had a passion for gunmetal grey for ages, anthracite as they call it here in France, deep rich grey... I agree that it goes with so much, from navy blue to black to burgundy to red to rich hunter green. And the list goes on. So I imagine that I may very well end up breaking down and purchasing one sweater or pair of pants in grey before the season ends, only because I know myself too well. And now that they're actually selling grey shoes for once (something I sought for years on end...), could they perhaps try to stock at least a pair or two in my size? (I have big feet -- American 10, French size 41). Then again, check that: don't carry my size -- then I may be tempted to spend more money...

So as to what I'm wearing right now? Well, I'm at work, so I'm dressed more "profesionnally" than I would obviously dress on the weekend, but comfortably nonetheless: one of my favorite shirt-dresses, in a khaki velvety material, found at Zara a couple years back; my brown suede boots, a gift from my boyfriend's mother, one of the precious gifts she gave me during the winter when we first got to know each other (we spent the better part of a whole Saturday shopping around Le Havre looking for boots in my size that I actually liked, and she was the most patient, supportive person I have ever met... not to mention wonderful company; I have the best memories of that day) and a thick wool, multicolored Max & Co. cardigan which is blatantly too warm for this early-fall weather, but I like to be prepared for what the Paris weather may unexpectedly bring. You never know what's going to be around the corner... I'm also wearing a beaded necklace from Clio Blue -- I love their jewelry. (I said I was a sucker for accessories after all!) All of this outfit is in what you might term "fall colors", but it's only because last year I was crazy about green in all its glory, so I have sweaters and pants in varying shades of green.

That's my outfit of the day... Tomorrow I will probably feel lazy again, so it will be back to simple pants and a top, more than likely. But today felt like a pretty good day.

I believe I'm meant to tag a few people out there in the blogosphere, and sometimes I have a hard time remembering those who do and those who don't enjoy doing memes, so of course if you're not into it, don't mind me! You can only play along if you feel up to it. So what are you wearing,

Adelyn, Colour Me Crazy, Destination Metz, Jennie, and Joy Suzanne?

To Lille or Not to Lille?

2007-09-17T14:42:00.000Z

There is nothing more frustrating than a change in weekend plans at the last minute. Don't get me wrong: I appreciate spontaneity and improvisation as much as the next gal. But the constant guessing game, the impossibility of making any fixed plans, is just exhausting. That's why I've gotten into the habit of adding "limiting adverbs", so to speak, to my own descriptions of what my upcoming weekend will include. I find myself peppering my weekend-speak with words like "normally" or "if all goes well..." or perhaps even "well, we might be..." And you fill in the blanks from there. The unsurity is sometimes maddening, and I hate playing a constant guessing game, knowing full well that our plans will, in the end, more than likely change.

In a way I've gotten used to my boyfriend changing his mind or committing himself to more than he can really do in one weekend. It's as if he thrives on spreading himself too thin, as if he thinks he can tear himself into three or four different men, and it doesn't seem to sink in that he simply can't do everything -- and besides, perhaps his girlfriend may not have the same ideas in mind...

This weekend's plan, at least as I originally understood it, was to drive up to his sister's place outside of Lille and to spend some quality time there, relaxing and getting away from the city for a breath of fresh air. I was actually looking forward to being in their big house again, and perhaps even bicycling around the area, like we did once a few months ago. I had a feeling that we wouldn't head out on Friday evening, as he originally projected, because I know how exhausted he can be at the end of a long week. So I wasn't surprised when he told me Thursday evening that we wouldn't leave until Saturday morning...

But then the frustrating element kicked in late Friday night, after we went to see The Bourne Ultimatum together, when he just happened to slip in (comme si rien n'était), ever so nonchalantly, that we would be making a "pit stop" on the way to Lille, so he could play in a tennis tournament, the "final one of the season". Mind you, the last three tournaments have somehow transformed, each time, into the "the last tournament of the season"... But I'm just saying.

Trust me, I have nothing against my boyfriend playing tennis! On the contrary, I know it is one of the things that makes him really happy. It's one of his favorite pastimes, along with swimming. I also know that it's both a physical and a mental release for him, a way of getting out all of that pent-up stress men are so famous for keeping inside themselves, whereas girls like me just can't seem to get enough of releasing it simply by TALKING ABOUT IT. So of course it's a healthy thing for him to be doing, for the most part. But I guess I sometimes feel like our plans together come after his tennis-playing plans, or fall completely by the wayside. We don't actually have that many weekends together, and when we do, the time is precious to me -- it's like an oasis in the middle of the desert of our work-run-rest lifestyle at the moment.

So this interruption in this weekend's plans, for a brief trip away from home, just seemed unjustified and a wee bit selfish in my personal opinion... I don't know; I felt like our time together just wasn't important enough, valuable enough, to merit an entire weekend devoted to it. As a result, when I told him how I felt this time around (something I don't always do, because I don't want to upset the applecart or cause any unnecessary conflicts -- the truth of the matter is that I often bend to his will; I want so much for him to be happy) he got all up-in-arms and defensive, saying that the stop didn't change anything in our plans, that it wasn't really a detour at all, that it was on our way, that I was making a big fuss out of nothing. It just didn't seem that way to me, of course.

We really don't disagree like this all that often, and I honestly don't like to complain -- I mean, I try really hard not to complain about his own activities, because I think it's important that we spend time separately doing the things that we love -- that's what makes us happier when we spend time together, after all! But you have to draw the line somewhere when you have so little time together, n'est-ce pas ?

Needless to say, we didn't end up going to Lille... Our Friday-night discussion didn't reach any kind of truce until Saturday afternoon. We were at a bit of a standstill. To complicate things all the more, he just decided to cancel all the weekend plans, in his opinion because I was making things too complicated. In the end, though, apparently his sister must not have been expecting us anyways, because as it turns out she was going to see their father in Le Havre. Maybe she figured her brother would change his plans at the last minute or something... as usual. Hmph.

Oh, and he did still go play tennis. :sigh:

And then we ended up going to Le Havre too.

Weekend Windup... And A Lemon Baking Frenzy

2007-09-09T20:09:00.000Z

Our toaster had been on the fritz most of this past week, only producing burnt baguette slices or never even spitting out the bread and subsequently sending smoke swirling all around the apartment... (and as a result I don't know if I'll ever be able to get rid of that smoky smell -- even after airing out the rooms all day on Saturday!) So after doing my regular shopping at the market on Saturday afternoon (trying really, for once, to restrict myself to the things on my list, and perhaps a few extra pieces of fruit, because I had let far too much go to waste last weekend, or things had gone bad far too quickly -- and I really need to stick to a budget!) and picking up some necessities at the grocery store, I also broke down and got a new, but inexpensive, toaster as well.

Now, I know I probably should have tried to get a secondhand one or found out if someone I knew had an extra one on hand, but I will admit here, sheepishly, that I'm an extremely impatient person (have I mentioned that before?!), and I just didn't know if I could hold out for even a few days without my morning toast... So I studied the various boxes on the shelves and figured I didn't need any fancy extras, like plastic prongs to grab the toast -- "a guarantee against ever burning your fingers!" according to the packaging -- or a supposed shelf on top of the toaster for reheating croissants and other pastries... I just needed your basic toaster, albeit with fairly wide slots for baguette-style bread. I managed to find one that wasn't too pricey, but even as I brought it home I felt guilty about the extra expense. I keep thinking of Riana and her Slow Year and how I had hoped to join in as well (ah, good intentions...), and yet I'm struggling with my own nature, fighting with myself and trying to be more economical, knowing that one of these days my spending in the moment is going to catch up with me... I agree that since my move to France I've gradually acquired better eating habits, and I've realized that in fact I need less and less, and I'm trying to cut out extra unnecessary spending. Seeing gals like her accomplish so much and feeling so fulfilled as a result, being happy with what she has and how she can make better use of everything, is a real inspiration to me.

But again, I do tend to use a toaster pretty much every day, so this was how I justified the purchase to myself. I still haven't taken it out of the box, though, because I just want to be absolutely sure I didn't get it on a whim...

In the meantime, I spent the rest of the day baking, and it hit me while I was in the kitchen, totally out of the blue, that I really do prefer baking to cooking on the whole. I've enjoyed getting into cooking over the last two years, after letting someone else do the hard work for so long, but I think that it's baking that really does it for me. And I guess it has something to do with the calming effect kneading dough has on me, actually getting the consistency and the texture just right, feeling it between my fingers and knowing I've done this myself. I know a lot of food bloggers have written beautiful things about this concept, but I think it doesn't really sink in until you've experienced it yourself and sensed the full effect of baking -- that is, if you're anything like me! I know we all have different impressions about these sorts of things, but maybe deep down inside of me I've inherited this quirk from my mother as well. For years I denied the fact that I could even cook or bake, and convinced myself that it simply wasn't in my genes. But that probably had a lot to do with my lack of self-confidence and my simmering self-doubt. It may be the precision of the process (I am a perfectionist, after all), the measuring of the ingredients and getting the balance of ingredients just right that does it for me; or perhaps it's just that first taste, when the cookies or cake have come out of the oven and I realize that something magical has taken place...

And I've got a thing about lemon; who knows why?! I've baked a basic lemon pound cake (or more accurately a quatre-quarts au citron, as I'm following a French recipe and using a kitchen balance) at least a dozen times in the last year, varying it only slightly, adding poppy seeds from time to time or a dash more fresh lemon juice) but it was the discovery of lemon butter cookies that really got me -- the flakiness of the butter, the zing of those grated lemon zests, and the perfect punch of that fleur de sel. The day I started grating lemons for my recipes was like a huge revelation for me -- you mean you actually put the lemon's skin in there?! And how satisfying is it to grate away at the lemon zest? Seriously, what an eye-opener, I kid you not... [and although you may be laughing at me right now, chuckling over there in front of your computer screens, I was reassured to know that I was not alone in this department when I ran into a gal last night who asked me if I had actually used "fresh lemons" in the cake I had baked!]

After baking my lemon cake once again yesterday afternoon and pulling it out of the oven, I couldn't resist diving into Clotilde's lemon butter cookie recipe from her book; I've been wanting to bake these little beauties for months now, but I was always either lacking the motivation or the time. The recipe is a variation of the lemon butter cookie recipe on the Chocolate and Zucchini blog, and I got such a kick out of getting the ball of cookie dough just right between my fingers, kneading it and figuring out whether to add in a dash of cold water or a touch of flour. And when you actually taste the cookies?! Seriously, the perfect balance of chewiness, flakiness and crispiness (is that a word?) all rolled into one! The lemon, butter and salt just sing together. Plus, they're bite-size, so you don't feel as guilty when you eat several at a time. While I was on vacation in Noirmoutier I was seeking out the perfect sablé in the local shops but never came across just the right one. I knew I would be bringing back some fleur de sel, and if there's one thing I firmly believe should be in every kitchen, it's these crystal flakes (they're wonderful with chocolate as well). As a matter of fact, the next time I go home to the States, I've got to bring some home to my mother. I'll make a mental note of that...

Now, my cookies didn't end up looking nearly as perfect as the gorgeous photos of Clotilde's sablés in the book (mine were a bit oddly misshapen!), but what's great about these kinds of pastries is just how appealing the cookies are in their imperfect shape -- there's something rustic and unique about them that emphasizes their homemade, hand-baked simplicity.

And if there's one thing I can say for sure, it's that I will be enjoying Clotilde's book for months, if not years, to come... It took me some time to actually get around to using some of the recipes, but now that I've started, I think I'm going to have a hard time stopping any time soon! So far I've only tried out a few, but I can attest to the fact that her crumble aux courgettes, figues et mozzarella is perfectly marvelous, a taste combination that I never could have imagined on my own but that makes your tastebuds sing. And I'll be testing our her baked ratatouille recipe later on this week. Tonight it's her fail-proof poulet de Muriel, another weekend regular.

My baking saved me from myself this weekend; otherwise, I probably would have gotten caught up in my permanent state of introspection and reflection. I can only hope that the baking, as well as other interests and occupations, will continue to fulfill me and take my mind off heavier concerns in the months ahead.

An Interview Meme, French-Style

2007-09-05T16:41:00.000Z

Nearly a month ago, Chez Loulou tagged me for a French meme, and I'm just now getting around to reading her responses as well as preparing my own. I think I'm going to approach it the same way she did, with my answers in English, just because I think the majority of my blogging friends are anglophones, like myself! I like the challenge of reading and writing in French from time to time, but this space is mainly reserved for my own personal reflections, emotions, anecdotes and memories, which in most cases are slotted in the "English" (or should I say American?) part of my brain. From time to time I stop and realize that I've been muttering to myself in French (oh come on, don't tell me you've never talked to yourself before!!) but when I admitted this to a fellow anglophone a few years back he scoffed at me and told me that this couldn't possibly be true... But I swear to you that a certain number of years in a country will do that to you, especially if the language fascinates you and if you are still striving, after all this time, to perfect your pronuncation and your grammatical formation of sentences.

And your verlan, but of course. We mustn't forget important things such as these!

So I've included my mini meme below (aren't these questions quirky?!), and I've tagged some fellow expat bloggers afterwards. Be forewarned -- you may need to work around a few questions, if you're anything like me!

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Quelle est votre situation de famille?
I'm living *in sin -- oh the horror!* with my French-German boyfriend, but I was also married in the past. So yes, gulp, that would make me a divorcée. Double horror!

Quelle est votre date d'anniversaire?
August 22nd. And I will now trot out the line I include every time someone asks me my birthdate (although it only works in French, sorry!): Je suis lion, presque vierge.

Vivez vous en ville ou à la campagne?
I currently live in a suburb of Paris, although I also spent a few years in the 18th arrondissement. I guess I've pretty much lived in or near a city all my life, although country life does tempt me from time to time. I just don't know if I could shrug off my urban habits. Then again, many people have done it with much success before me, so I imagine it's not an impossible task.

Quels métiers exercez vous ou avez vous exercés?
Well, as so many other expats in France have emphasized, it's not easy to find work in France. I've done the teaching-English route, but I just don't think it's for me in the long term. So right now I'm doing the bilingual assistant gig, and it has its "moments" shall we say... I definitely don't see myself doing this forever, but I'm trying to figure out what I need to work out to be able to do something more fulfilling, and possibly creative, with my life. I've drifted from one random job to the next and never had a specific path lined up for myself, so those who have a precise ambition and follow their plans to a set goal always blow me away.

Avez vous des allergies?
As was the case with Loulou, I've never been officially diagnosed, and I didn't have allergies growing up. But since my move to France five years ago I've gradually acquired more and more allergies, and the spring season (anywhere from March to June) can be pretty tough for me. When I went to the beach in August something (??) set my allergies off as well, so I had to pick up some more of the same medication I had been taking a few months before. I recently read a fascinating article in Le Monde 2 about how so many people have acquired more allergies in the last 20 years in France, and how a number of environmental factors seem to play a role in this. But at the same time, for some reason there aren't nearly enough allergologues in France, which explains why the wait for an appointment is so long...

Quelle est votre odeur préférée?
I too love lemons, and then chocolate, coffee, thyme, peaches... and my boy. (OK, once again I have a list of favorites, so shoot me!)

Aimez vous les sucreries?
Silly question! Although I don't think I'm as much of a sweeth tooth as my boyfriend, I do love dark chocolate and desserts like crème brulée and île flottante. Otherwise, I have been known to chew on red gummy bears and tagada strawberries! Oh, and macarons -- aaaahhhh...!

Si oui, quelles sont vos préférées?
Oh, I just listed some above, but I also love the combination of dark chocolate with coconut. (Hard to find -- but have you ever had those French Magnum ice cream bars? They make the most AMAZING dark chocolate-coconut bar. Heaven! Otherwise, I would kill for a perfect dark chocolate mousse.)

Quels sont vos goûts culinaires?
Oh, I love a little bit of everything! But French is at the top of my list (guess that's one of the reasons why I'm here!), closely followed by Italian, Japanese and Thai. I also like to try anything new, so I don't shrink away from things I've never tasted before.

Quel genre de musique aimez vous?
Very long list! And difficult to classify -- I love a lot of female artists with incredibly beautiful voices. I'm a big fan of Tori Amos, Annie Lennox (who has a new album coming out! yippee!), Sarah McLachlan, Sinéad O'Connor, Feist, Fiona Apple, Kate Havnevik, and Regina Spektor. I'm into rock, independent music, folk, classical and I have a weakness for movie soundtracks, especially 2046. Also, anything with a piano sound will usually seduce me, since I studied piano for so long and have a special affinity for this instrument. One of these days I've got to try to start playing again...

Quelle est votre couleur préférée?
I've long been mad about red, but more recently I've been wearing more and more shades of green, as well as midnight blue. And gunmetal/steel grey. See, I have a hard time choosing favorites! (Can you tell how indecisive I am?)

Quelle est votre saison préférée?
I do love the warmth, even the heat, of summer above all. But autumn can be a wonderful time, too -- if it doesn't get too cold too fast!

Collectionnez vous un objet quelconque?
Well, not officially, but I recently realized (when some friends who were visiting pointed it out) that I have a set of little boxes on the dresser in my bedroom that originate from different places around the world. So I guess I've sort of been unconsciously collecting them! There aren't that many, though: just a few from France, Spain, the US, Japan and Iraq. And the last two were gifts.

Quel magazine lisez vous?
(Shouldn't that read "magazines"?) When I can squeeze in the time between books, I'm a sucker for French Elle, and I also enjoy Elle à table and Muze (a magazine supposedly aimed at 20-somethings -- I hate the fact that they claim this, when I've been enjoying it for almost a year now and I'm long past my 20s... I also have a blog-post-in-the-making about this mag.) And when I need some pure distraction, I have been known to page through US or InStyle. I need my US celebrity fix from time to time (guilty as charged). But now I try to get most of that from the Internet, of course!

Quel est votre style vestimentaire?
Oh, that can vary, depending on my mood and where I'm going. I guess I tend to be very classic in my taste in general, but with some little quirky touches. I love accessories -- fun, unexpected jewelry and lovely scarves, bags and gloves. I prefer skirts and dresses because I find them more comfortable than pants (I hate things squeezing me around the waist!) but when it gets cold I dread having bare legs -- so not a true fashionista, I'm afraid! I'm also a sucker for a beautiful coat. But my all-time favorite article of clothing is a shirtdress -- so simple, feminine, and easy to wear anywhere. Just makes you feel like a woman!

Pratiquez vous une activité manuelle?
Well, I've recently become more and more interested in cooking. I've always wanted to learn how to sew or knit, but I've never tried my hand at either and I just don't know if I would have the patience. Oh, and I don't know if it counts as "manual" but I used to draw, and I'm desperately trying to get back to it again. I studied art in college.

Quel est votre animal préféré?
I have a weakness for dogs, the bigger the better. My boy has always had a soft spot for bloodhounds, believe it or not! I don't know if we will ever have one, but I think he associates them with the big, wide open spaces of American Westerns.

Quels sont vos loisirs?
Reading, bien sûr. Cinema -- more and more in recent years. (But there are so many older films I still need to check out! I'm eternally grateful to my boy for introducing me to Ernst Lubitsch. I adore Heaven Can Wait and Cluny Brown.) I, too, love to travel and discover new cities. I enjoy listening to music, and I miss being able to turn it up loud in a car while driving. (I try to make up for it at home, but it's just not the same.)

Comment décorez vous votre intérieur?
We have a mix of dark furniture and touches of red and dark green -- but our apartment still needs quite a bit of decorating! If I could do everything myself (if I ever had the time and energy) I would love to repaint the walls different colors, really brighten up things. Then again, I've been trying to declutter and become more zen in recent times, so I would try to limit the amount of furniture in a room.

Avez vous une liste de cadeaux en ligne?
No, not really, but something tells me that perhaps I should -- my brother sent me an Amazon gift certiciate for my birthday, and I guess if I had created a wish list he wouldn't have had to do that! And of course there are always new books and CDs I would love to get my hands on... But these days I'm trying to stick to used books and borrowing, whenever possible.

******

I guess that's it for now. I had a good time sharing some of my interests -- would Amy, Aralena, Karina, Meredith, Joy Suzanne, Amy or anyone else like to join in?

Life on Pause

2007-08-29T17:05:00.000Z

Le Moulin à Barbâtre, à la nuit tombante

I apologize once again for my unexplained absence, but this time around, I do have a good excuse: I was on vacation, and I simply didn't manage to squeeze in a moment to explain that directly here on my blog before departing. Although I figured the message was pretty clear with my previous "Vacation Reading" post... (Read between the lines?)

I left for Noirmoutier, an island off the Atlantic Coast of France, in the Vendée region, three weeks ago today. I actually returned to the office on Monday, but I've been digging my way through personal and professional e-mails, as well as countless blog postings on my Bloglines account -- I sincerely doubt I will ever catch up with all of those! -- since fumbling into the office a bit dazed and still stuck in my vacation haze. Blogging friends, please forgive my dilatory attitude... Three weeks away will certainly transform your approach to things, make it all seem less important, less urgent and perhaps near-unnecessary. My brother even sent me a few reproachful messages, wondering when I was ever going to return to my regular ol' daily existence and resume the grind that we are all used to plugging through year-round. (He lives in America, after all, and isn't used to any extended absences from the office -- I honestly don't know what I would do without these breaks from time to time at this point in my life.) I had told him about my blog months ago, though, and strangely enough he hadn't popped in to visit for a while, so he could hardly scold me!

I plan on resuming my "regular" blogging habits from here on out, although you could hardly call me the most consistent blogger -- I'm well aware of that. But I've made progress from time to time; it just has yet to become consistent progress.

All that time away, of course, was calming and relaxing -- I can't remember the last time I turned off my "thought process", my anxiety-ridden brain, for such an extended period -- and I obviously didn't have access to a computer or to an Internet connection. At first I wondered if this would bother me, but then I realized that I had always survived just fine without it before, and that in fact before the early 21st century, I was far from a fan of anything computer-related. It took me at least a few years to get the knack of things and to even acquire any fair interest in the virtual world. There are still a lot of things out there that baffle me, and how I wish I could improve my own graphic skills so I could jazz up this here blog of mine, but that will simply have to wait until the moment propice.

But there is definitely something to be said for escapism, running off to a fairly secluded place and spending an extended amount of time in completely different surroundings. Even though the weather was not all that great for, um, I would have to say about 13 of my 18 days away, I was still able to immerse myself in a whole new life and pretend like my life back "home" didn't exist -- put it all in parentheses, if you will. I did read quite a bit, but not nearly as much as I had hoped, and I have to admit that I was more than ambitious in my hope to complete seven entire novels while away. Of course, I guess I didn't take into account the fact that there would be three small boys running around me for a good part of my vacation, and also that we would be spending many meals with extended family members... Which I thoroughly enjoyed, because for the most part I love all of my boy's family. (Um, was that a contradiction of sorts? Let's just say I'm being politically correct here...) But family meals always lead to family memories and family quibbles -- and you get where I'm going with this, so I think I'll stop right there.

My choices of reading in the end were a bit arbitrary and depended on my mood, which should come as no surprise, but I did at least require myself to alternate between French and English. I can highly recommend Muriel Barbery's L'élégance du hérisson, of course, although I had a hard time getting into the first 10 pages or so (a bit heavy and dense from the get-go, but then it settles into a certain sublime style, and it's irresistible). Once you're into it, though, you're in it for good. It's a beauty, and I believe it's a novel that will stay with me for some time. I stretched out the last 20 pages or so because I didn't want it to end...

I'm actually working on Sarah Waters right now, but again, I haven't quite gotten into the story yet. Granted, I've hardly finished the first chapter, so I know I may need to be a bit patient. But I won't neglect my reading list, trust me: it will just take me a bit longer than expected to make it through the pile...

In the meantime, I leave you with some of my images of Noirmoutier, personal shots that are the furthest thing from touristic -- because in fact I didn't end up doing very much tourism. We stayed close to the "vacation" home and only ventured out to the beach when the weather was fine, which wasn't all that often. I was fascinated with the moulin, as you can see in the number of photos where the windmill stands as the sole subject, as well as the lavender branches near the house. It was all very sauvage and rustique, and I loved every minute of it.

P.S. You'll note the distinct absence of any photos of myself -- that's what happens, I guess, when you keep the camera under wraps and only whip it out when inspiration strikes. There were times when I realized, when it was clearly too late, that "Wow, maybe I should have taken a photo of that?!" (And in any case, anything else I left at arm's length was grabbed by 3-year-old hands and abused, so I believe I may have for once used good judgment with regard to burying my personal effects...)

My Vacation Reading

2007-08-07T10:57:00.000Z

As I settled into a sofa in our office lounge to read for a bit during my lunch break one day last week, a colleague asked me if I was attacking my "summer reading" book... I laughed and said, "Well, one of my summer reading books, but I've got a long list -- you ain't seen nothing yet!"

In fact, I will probably never make it through the whole list, but there are so many books I want to read right now, I can't help but bring along more on vacation than I will certainly end up finishing... I can just see myself choosing to leave ONE behind and deciding once I arrive that it's precisely that one that I want to read. Granted, this pile is a bit ambitious, to say the least. I'm still wondering how I'm going to fit these all in my suitcase -- after all, I was hoping to travel light, especially since I'm going to be in a beach setting and really don't need to bring all that much with me anyway. I may have to narrow this down... I want to be able to choose between a good selection of books in both English and French, depending on my mood, and I've been putting together these titles for a while now, for various reasons. I like to have a nice balance of light, fluffy reading along with heavier, meatier stuff for when I feel like I can settle in and spend a good three or four hours reading non-stop. Which is obvious from the photo above, as I've managed to combine both Nick Hornby and Murakami in the same mix... Suspense and romance are also both good to have on hand en vacances, at least if you ask me!

(And I'm actually still in the middle of Katherine Pancol's Les Yeux jaunes des crocodiles, which is quite good -- I hope to finish this by Friday, two days into my vacation...)

Thanks to Lauren for loaning me Sarah Waters' The Night Watch, as well as inspiring me to continue reading Nancy Huston. And thanks also to Meredith for the inspiration to write this post! She shared her summer reading selection with us months ago...

Most of the English titles in the photo above I managed to either buy used or to borrow, whereas I'm embarrassed to say that I bought all the French books. And some of these have been sitting on my shelves, patiently waiting to be read, for months, namely Duong Thu Huong's Myosotis.

Which will I read first? That's a good question... Again, it all depends on how the mood hits me. But I have a feeling it will be something lighter, so A Long Way Down may make its way back up to the top of the pile... Then again, it's not the book I've been the most impatient to read, so it may very well have to wait. Decisions, decisions...

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I've been reading more and more for pleasure in recent years, probably as my own ideal form of escapism, and I can't seem to get enough these days. In a sense, I almost miss reading for my studies, having to analyze a text and discuss it in a classroom setting. This experience often brought out so much more for me, in spite of the stress I might have experienced in writing my own essays and analyses. I vividly remember studying Kate Chopin's The Awakening in a sociology class my senior year of college and wanting to discuss its themes for hours on end, feeling like I could peel away the layers of its depth and never reach the bottom of its literary potential.

My mind has opened up to more and more types of literature over the years, out of pure curiosity or perhaps even a subconscious yearning to broaden myself, my mind and my interests. Before moving to France, I used to read countless books about French culture and novels set in France or French-speaking countries, so when I picked up a book in a shop and it spoke to me somehow in this vein, I would more than likely bring it home with me, as was the case with Claire Messud's The Last Life. More recently, I've become fascinated with Japanese culture, and modern Japanese authors, most especially Haruki Murakami and Yoko Ogawa.

Interestingly enough, though, I've always remained faithful to my love of novels rather than essays or non-fiction. Perhaps it's just this constant need for escapism that resurfaces at every turn, or a recognition of myself or some of my own neuroses and quirks in the characters. I imagine this is a universal trait, that we all yearn for this somehow, and we all look for ourselves in one form or another in our reading.

But the funny thing is that certain stages of my life took me away from the pleasures of plunging into a good book, and I've only found my way back again in the last four years or so. And what a rediscovery! In that absence, I didn't realize all the wonder and stimulation I was missing.

Even today I surprise myself with my constantly evolving passion for reading -- obviously I'm not alone, but it's as if I can't read fast enough some days, trying to soak up so much in such a short time. Then again, I often like to sit back and take my time, savor the pages, like I so often did with Milan Kundera. As I dig my way through one novel, I'm already thinking about what I will read next, anticipating the exhilaration of discovering new characters and new worlds. (Perhaps my boyfriend has solved this dilemma by reading several books at the same time, even in different languages, each one peeking out of a jacket pocket, but I can't seem to do this -- to split my attention that way -- as it distracts me from the story at hand. I need to focus on one imaginary world at a time.)

I do feel quite strongly that the appeal of certain books, or certain kinds of books, is very singular and unique, and that one's interests in books is very subjective. A book that a mass of people might enjoy sometimes just doesn't do anything for me, and I can't necessarly get into it or grasp why it is so popular. Whereas some other subjects or styles pull me in every time, but may not appeal to others at all. And that's okay! I've made peace with this fact, knowing it's all a part of who I am, and my own search for identity.

But like so many others, I'm sometimes overwhelmed by all the wonderful books there are to be read, and I know my thirst will continue unquenched for years to come. I just hope I'll never lose this passion for the written word, because it's one of the things that keeps me going from one day to the next.

Trip down Ten Years

2007-08-02T18:05:00.000Z

I thought this photo of my niece swimming at her 10th birthday party in June was so beautiful, so serene and yet so bright and energetic (quite a juxtaposition of sorts, non?). That's Ally all right... in a nutshell. She looks like one of those dancers in the water -- what are they called again? synchronized swimmers?-- and you can just feel, sense how happy she is in this moment. So carefree -- so thrilled to be alive. It's often in times like these, when I see the utter innocence and pure bliss of childhood, that I myself wish I could be a kid again, with no fears, worries or responsibilities -- not a care in the world.

Ally was born ten years ago this year. Her birthday in late June really struck a chord with me, hit home in more ways than I ever expected. I look at pictures of her now and I'm dumbstruck by how fast she has grown up, how much she has changed and matured, how beautiful and talented she is at her age. She has so much potential and is full of joy, in spite of any difficult circumstances she might have had to endure at times. And I am thousands of miles away from her...

I berate myself, beat myself up about not writing more often (never enough), not keeping in touch as much as I think I should or wish I would... And yet I do think of her all the time and I am reminded of her throughout the day by the funniest little things. That I couldn't be there this year for her 10th birthday party -- well, it was harder than I thought it would be. Now I'm trying to put together the perfect birthday package, something special I can send her to let her know I'm thinking of her, and also to give her a little taste of France, in tiny doses. Does anyone have any fabulous suggestions of some great things I can add into my care package for a 10-year-old American girl who has never been to France, but who is definitely curious about the culture and life here? I'm hoping she'll make it over to visit one day, and I don't know if that opportunity will come when she's in high school or before, but in the meantime, I'd like for her to share in what I love about this country. Whenever I go home to the States for a visit, she asks me all sorts of questions about France and what it's like to live here -- she's at that age where she's overflowing with curiosity and sweet inquisitiveness, and she tells her friends about her tata who lives in such a faraway country. (I've given her coloring books and children's books about France over the years -- I need some new ideas!)

Now when she picks up the phone she recognizes my voice immediately, and I can never seem to pull the wool over her eyes. She asks me how to say words in French, and then giggles on the other end of the line. I feel her spirit with me here sometimes, her whispering -- coloring feverishly like I did at her age -- so fascinated with drawing, singing and dancing, all the art forms I, too, enjoyed as a little girl.

I've already picked her up an adorable t-shirt from Petit Bateau with "La vie est belle" written on the front, and she told me that she loves polka dots right now, so I've been keeping that in mind in my hunt for gifts... She's definitely a real girlie-girl, loving pretty things and always checking out my makeup bag when I come home. Two years ago she begged me to buy her some lip gloss at a Victoria's Secret sale! But I grimaced and promised to let her have one of my own lipglosses when we got home... I had other *better* gifts in mind for her...

Every time I go home I find myself wanting to spoil Ally, and the truth is that she is surrounded by love in my family. Her arrival was unexpected in all of our lives, but she is an angel: she brought us closer together in more ways than we ever could have imagined. Today she makes me laugh and sigh over the phone with her maturity, her quiet philosophy at such a young age -- in some ways I think she knows more than she should at 10; I guess that's the curse of her generation... I don't remember ever being so aware of the world around me, of so much in general, in the way that she is -- constantly.

My boyfriend was hilarious a few days ago: he said, "Why don't you fly your niece over to spend vacation with us in Noirmoutier?" He said it so innocently, so seriously -- like it was a literal possibility. But we all know that flight fares at this time of year are out of this world, so this is utterly unthinkable. And there is the matter of discussing it with her mom and dad, my younger brother, who would need to work out some logistics. It's a nice idea, but like I said, for another year -- perhaps even next year, if we can plan it out ahead of time. I'm hoping some of my family will really buckle down and visit me here in 2008 -- it's been far too long...

Rockin' It My Way

2007-07-31T10:47:00.000Z

Mais oui, I'm still here... I have no excuse really for my recent extended absence(s), aside from the fact that I've been lacking in motivation, focus and confidence enough to express my thoughts coherently and eloquently.

But that's neither here nor there at this point: I'm here, I have a lot on my mind, and now I want to get (some of) that out there into the blogosphere. So here goes...

About a month ago, Michelle over at Scribbit gave me a shout-out as a Rock i n ' Gir l B log ger. (No, I promise I didn't forget! It's just taken me some time to get around to it...) I wanted to take the opportunity to share the love, because it always feels good to know that someone out there is reading, and it's even better to share some great reads with others. Thank you again, Michelle, for thinking of me and for sharing my modest little blog with your readers.

Now, mind you, my blogroll grows and expands as the days go by, but I have to admit that I do tend to spend a lot of my time on expat blogs, probably because I can relate to a lot of them, I feel a sort of bond, and we all make up a kind of community around here. But as you can see from my sidebar, I certainly don't limit myself to those blogging from France! I have a lot of favorite reads, but today I want to honor some gals I've come across in the past few months and who I feel definitely deserve to be singled out for their creativity, their consistency, their sense of humor, their sincerity -- plus much more!

* Amy at Chitlins and Camembert - Amy's been blogging from France for almost two years (if I'm not mistaken, and according to her archives!) and she is a daily read for me, not-to-miss. From chronicling her experiences in having a baby (and now two!) in France (and how much this costs, broken down fee by fee) to buying and refurbishing a house in the French countryside, Amy always keeps me entertained, and she adds in a great sense of humor with her pragmatism and sincerity. She just makes me smile... I hope to have the opportunity to meet her one day!

* Wendy at A Baguette on My Table - Another blogger I admire for her gutsiness and honesty, Wendy really knows how to use her writing to get a point across. And she doesn't mince her words! But this is what's so refreshing about her: Wendy shares with us how much she has evolved in her experiences here in France as a single mother, and now as a woman who has found love through blogging. I admire her in more ways than one! She's heading off for new adventures in the UK pretty soon, but I'm sure she'll have lots more to share with us along the road.

* Little Fugitive in France - A little gem in the wilderness, that perle rare that is far too often unfound or overlooked, Little Fugitive writes the way I believe she must play her music -- an artist at heart, she conveys her emotions through her words and shares what is going on in her mind with grit and passion. When I finish reading one of her posts, I have to sit back and think about it for a moment, let it sink in and wrap around me. She definitely has a gift, and like I said, I imagine her music must be an even stronger expression of this talent. Perhaps one day I'll get to see her perform, if I'm lucky!

* Reb at Uh Oh Spaghettios - I tumbled onto Reb's blog a few months back, and I love how she shares little personal accounts of her life as well as the progress her daughter is making in the language arena. As a lover of children's books myself, her recent posts about her daughter's discovery of and new interest in books warmed my heart...

* Emily in France - I had the pleasure of meeting Emily this past spring when she and a friend came to Paris for a visit, and Emily is just as down-to-earth and warm in person as she is on her blog. She shares with us, once again, her adventures, trials and tribulations in France, specifically in the Haute-Savoie region in her case, in a beautiful town called Annecy.

* And, last but not least, my dear friend Jenn at NPLI, who will make you laugh guaranteed, and if you are not reading her yet, run-do-not-walk over to her URL to get your daily giggle. She knows how to tell a tale, dialogues included, and she's a fab artist to boot. All that in one adorable package! Canadian by birth, she's come a long way since she arrived in France more than 10 years ago, and she has a lot to share with us as a result, as an expat, a mom, a professional, and an artist. Words cannot express how lucky I feel to have met her in the blogosphere.

So that's it for now... If you don't already know these blogs, I hope you'll enjoy diving into them as much as I do! So much talent, so little time...

A Taste of Home

2007-07-22T18:10:00.001Z

Saturday afternoon I prepared a simple summer lunch for my boy and me, happy and relieved that for once we could spend a weekend together and just relax and wile the time away, doing nothing in particular. We so rarely get to do this! I had been to the local market in the morning and had stocked up on some much-needed fruit and veggies, including the requisite melons and peaches for this time of year, as well as some end-of-season mara des bois strawberries and some lovely tomatoes. Probably not my best market run by far, but still a fair one, with enough goodies to keep us set for at least a few days.

I also treated myself, for the first time in a while, to two cheeses from the fromager, something I don't do very often simply because the cheese can sometimes be quite pricey. I try to save excellent cheese like that for special occasions, like when we have guests over for dinner -- but this weekend together seemed like a special occasion to me, so I splurged. We already had some coulommiers in the refrigerator that some hotel guest had asked my boy to throw out (*gasp! the horror!*) and which he slipped into his bag and brought home. So I picked up a nice chunk of vieux comté and a small sliver of gouda au cumin. I was also tempted by a chèvre but figured I better limit myself, because the last time I went crazy on the cheese we never finished it and it stayed in the fridge for far too long. (I have to add here that this cheese splurge was also partially inspired by the wonderful posts over at Chez Loulou, who has a weekly cheese celebration, and Amy at C'est la me... who does some occasional wine and cheese pairings.)

So we had our melon et jambon de parme combination along with these lovely cheeses, some fresh bread, as well as a simple baby spinach salad mixed with cherry tomatoes and a shallot-infused vinaigrette. Simple, fresh, but filling. The night before I had thrown together the same salad I had brought with me to Katia and Kyliemac's Bastille Day picnic: tomatoes, cucumber, feta cheese, fragrant olive oil and cilantro. I swear, I never tire of summer meals! (Can you tell?!)

Midway through the meal, it hit me that I was dying to make my mother's famed Steamed Shrimp Macaroni Salad -- it had been far too long since I had thrown together a batch, and I had just so happened to pick up some shrimp on my morning shopping trip. Of course, this recipe is difficult to replicate here in France, namely because I don't have easy access to the key "secret" ingredient: Old Bay seasoning, something any true Marylander and Chesapeake Bay resident has in her kitchen closet/pantry. But lo and behold, I had (for once) cunningly picked up a bottle of the seasoning last summer and had been waiting for just the right opportunity to make good use of it.

Now, every summer I get a craving for the one thing I simply cannot have here in France, and the one food that I always say I so desperately miss: Maryland steamed crabs. I unfortunately won't be making it back home this summer for my crab fix, but shrimp comes a close second. And like I mentioned in my earlier post, the pathetic tourteaux they have here just don't come anywhere near the beauty of Maryland crabs, and of course they are all missing the spices the crabs are steamed in back home. Over the years I've gotten more and more addicted to spicy food, and now Old Bay just seems like child's play to me -- but it does pack a punch if you're not used to the spicy stuff! And I know the French don't tend to like spicy things in general. (On a side note, this reminds me of a French joke I heard ages ago, "Manger épicé en même temps, ce n'est pas facile" which is basically just a silly play on words -- it sounds like "Manger et pisser en même temps, ce n'est pas facile"... Translates to "Eating spicy food at the same time isn't easy" but also sounds like "It's not easy to eat and pee at the same time" -- Don't mind me, guess that was altogether off-subject -- but it made me laugh to myself!)

Oh, so getting back to the subject at hand: my mom's shrimp salad recipe! I did copy it down years ago, and like I said, I don't get to dig it out all that often, but I decided I need to start making more dishes that remind me of home and that may also be appealing to my boy and his family. This salad of course makes for a great vacation dish, is a big hit at picnics, and given the fact that I'm trying to assemble some good vacation recipes for my trip down to the Atlantic Coast in August, this seemed like the perfect addition. It's easy and quick to put together (the longest part is probably just peeling all the shrimp and dicing the veggies) and you can make lots of it at once! Depending on how much you need, of course. My mom's recipe serves about four as an accompaniment, less as a main dish.

In fact, this recipe may appeal to those back home in the U.S. who can get their hands on the Old Bay seasoning, but for my expat readers here in France, it may leave you wanting! I'm afraid I don't have any suggestions for a substitute, aside from perhaps some paprika or a spice of your choice -- but again, to my mind, it just wouldn't be the same. In fact, the shrimp at home in Maryland is actually steamed in Old Bay, and then of course my Mom adds more into the recipe, so it's doubly delicious!

So without further ado (finally, I know!), voilà the classic Steamed Shrimp Macarani Salad:

1 pound (about 500 grams) steamed shrimp, peeled and deveined

8 oz. elbow macaroni (also not quite the same in France, but any pasta resembling macaroni is fine, of course!), cooked, drained and rinsed

3/4 cup mayonnaise (again, my Mom's notation here is for "Hellman's real" mayonnaise, which just makes me chuckle... in France, of course, most people make their own mayonaisse, but I'm not going to quibble with that -- and I have to admit that I cheated and used bottled mayonnaise myself)

2 tbsp. vinegar

1 tbsp. mustard (also not the same here -- I brought back some French's mustard from home, but I imagine Dijon would work just fine, although it might just give it all the more of a kick!)

1 tsp. sugar

1 tsp. salt

1/8 tsp. pepper (2 pinches)
1/2 tsp. Old Bay seasoning, or to taste

1 cup sliced, chopped celery

1 cup chopped green or sweet red pepper

1/4 cup chopped onion

In a large bowl, stir together mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, sugar, salt and pepper until smooth; add in Old Bay seasoning last. Add macaroni, celery and onion; toss to coat well.

At this point, I cut the shrimp in half, and sprinkle some additional Old Bay seasoning on them, as they haven't been steamed in the spice here in France. Then you add the shrimp into the salad, stir together once again, cover and chill in the refrigerator until serving.

Enjoy! I don't know about you, but this sure reminds me of home...

Weekend Wedding Away

2007-07-09T12:30:00.000Z

Oh, thank goodness for our brief weekend away to attend a friend's wedding! I seriously didn't think I would ever get myself out of the doldrums, and if it weren't for this little trip, I may have spent the better part of the weekend in the apartment AGAIN, feeling sorry for myself... *Ahem* And thank goodness that the weather gods finally decided to cooperate and grace us with some sunshine -- I have a feeling that les mariés were pretty relieved about that too! ('Course, some other "famous" weddings most likely benefited from this gracious interlude of heavenly weather as well...)

We actually left la région parisienne on Friday evening, after having a quick dinner at home and throwing our things together in a couple of overnight bags. We hit the road kinda late, though, and didn't arrive in Argenton-sur-Creuse until almost 2:00 in the morning, believe it or not. (I originally thought the wedding was closer to Paris, but it was actually about a 3 1/2 hour drive, in the Centre region of France, in the département called Indre, as seen in the map to the right.) My boy likes to take his time on the road (which is a rarity and a blessing in this country, trust me!) which I definitely don't mind, especially in the dark. But as I've mentioned before, I have a heck of a time keeping my eyes open, so after we arrived at the hotel, called Le Cheval noir, I groggily tumbled out of the car and up the stairs to our tiny but very practical room.

After giving my boy a hard time about throwing together the weekend details at the last minute, I now have to give him credit for pulling it together marvelously. He got us a room for 2 nights, miraculously, when I was convinced there might not be anything available at such a late date. And Friday evening, before leaving, we also both put our heads together and chose a nice gift at a Culinarion shop near my work: a lovely wine carafe and a set of expresso cups. His friend has actually been married before, so we knew that the couple wasn't going to need a lot of basic essentials, but we figured that these gifts would pretty much make anyone happy. His friend Bernard is quite the wine afficionado (of course, what Frenchman isn't, you might ask?!) and he also likes a good café serré -- so we thought this would work well. We were at a bit of a loss, both of us, because we haven't been to any weddings in quite some time, and as they didn't have a liste de mariage, we didn't know where to begin. Turns out we weren't the only ones who found this to be a challenge: the marié's other témoin didn't know what to get either and actually ended up writing them a check. Money is always acceptable, apparently!

We woke up fairly early Saturday morning, after a short night's sleep, had breakfast at the hotel and rushed down the road to Orsennes, where the wedding was to take place. Or shall I say that my boy rushed me down the road?! We left with what seemed like plenty of time, but for some reason he was convinced we were going to be late, so he was furious at me for not being ready exactly when he wanted to leave, at 10:15. But the wedding was at 11:30, and he had told me the night before that the town was only about 20 minutes away from our hotel... If he wanted me to be ready sooner, why didn't he fib about the delay or the amount of time it would take? I figured allowing for an hour was plenty of time, but on this point we wholeheartedly disagreed. So I was a bit befuddled, to say the least. Granted, there was some traffic with the Saturday morning markets, but once we hit the backroads outside of Argenton, we were fine. We made it to Orsennes in just under a half an hour, at 11:00, with a half hour to spare. Of course, if catastrophe had struck and we had found ourselves stuck in traffic, there would have been hell to pay -- and I would have never heard the end of it! But thank goodness that wasn't the case...

He was in such a hurry that morning that I don't even think he shaved. Luckily for my boy, you can't really tell! That's the German blood in him, I think... As we climbed out of the car in Orsennes, I wondered if I shouldn't talk him into slipping into a nearby salle de bains to do a quick shave. But then I came to my senses. Heureusement. We didn't need any more quibbling. Details, details. When will I learn?

The typical French civil ceremony was brief but quite nice, nothing in particular to note. As my boy was a témoin, he played a central role in the process. And I don't think he's done this in a long time -- if ever -- so that was probably one of the reasons he was so nervous. But all went well, and the mariés came outside in a tiny shower of rice. We took our cars down the road to a picturesque point where everyone took photos overlooking the river Creuse. Afterwards we headed to a local hotel-restaurant where the reception was to be held, and the next few hours were spent gorging ourselves on wonderful food, wine and champagne. The restaurant overlooked La Creuse, and with the fabulous weather things just couldn't get any better. After a lovely salad with goat's cheese as our entrée, we savored our beef filet and then dug into an incredible dessert, a pavé au chocolat avec coulis à l'orange, as you can see above. This was incredible -- probably one of the best chocolate desserts I've had in a long time. And I can be pretty picky! If a fondant is too rich, or the texture isn't right, I'm often disappointed. But the texture of this delicacy was smooth, onctueux, chocolatey without being too rich. The perfect ending to the meal.

We lingered a bit and enjoyed the moment, the sunlight washing through the windows, and then rushed out to the waiting boat to take a tour of La Creuse... A really nice way to wrap up the festivities! Most of us were ready for a nap by then, so I dozed quite a bit while we made our way down the river, with fortifications on the banks, some rocky cliffs, and riverside campsites where families were settling in for their summer vacations. We saw a few boats, but not a whole lot -- maybe the bad weather of the previous weeks had scared people away. Either that or summer just hasn't fully set in yet.

But I spoke too soon with regard to the end of festivities -- in fact after the hour-and-a-half promenade, we got into our cars once again and drove around the area, briefly stopping to take in some local sites, including this castle, called the Château de Breuil-Yvain, as I later found out.

I took some exterior photos around the site; apparently the castle is privately owned, and people actually live there, so we couldn't visit the interior. We saw a young gal driving an impressive lawnmower around the grounds, and although I thought she might shoo us off the property, she didn't say anything. When we returned to Orsennes for the cocktail hour around 7:00, I noticed a poster in one of the local cafés and realized that it was indeed the same castle -- apparently they have plays, spectacles and other forms of entertainment there throughout the year. I wonder if they rent it out? Perhaps one can still attempt to rival the Parker-Longoria nuptials at Vaux-le-Vicomte...

The cocktail hour extended into a full-fledged dinner, to our surprise... Two wedding meals? Well, why not? We knew we were staying the night in the region, but this was still unexpected... More champagne, and then some of my favorite wine, an ice-cold Riesling -- I even asked Bernard if he had me in mind when he chose it! He knows full well how much I enjoy Alsacian whites. He winked and said bien sûr -- anything to make me happy! And what goes better with a dry Alsacian white but a stunning plateau de fruits de mer...? I focused on the shrimp at first, but then soon realized I had lost time and only managed to sneak in one langoustine, before devouring a few raw oysters (which my boy cracked open with a knife; I kept expecting oyster to splatter across the table) -- something I never enjoyed before living in France. The only disappointment I find in seafood platters here are those horrendous tourteaux -- what's the point? They look huge, but then when you break open the shell there's practically no "meat" inside... I don't know how those poor crabs carry around all that shell weight! Give me a Chesapeake Bay crab any day. I guess I really am a Maryland girl at heart.

Something that I really loved about the café-restaurant where we had dinner was the unique artwork on the walls, all pieces most likely donated by local artists. There were also murals on the walls themselves, and some great quotes, scribbled in large handwriting. It was a tiny, intimate, convivial setting, and if you ask me, there's no better way to enjoy a wedding meal and to share the moment with friends and family.** The quote above is from Paul Eluard, a late 19th-century, early 20th-century French poet, in his "Capitale de la douleur". Roughly translated: "The curve of your eyes embraces my heart..."

Déchirée, Paralysée

2007-07-06T09:58:00.000Z

Wavering back and forth between so many emotions these days, I just don't even know how to begin to express what's going on in my head and my heart. I've tried to reserve this space here more for sharing events or activities in my life, or from to time some reflections of my own on said events... But these days, for some inexplicable reason, I can't seem to get it out there, put it down, understand why my insides are so jumbled and why I find myself an emotional yo-yo on a daily basis.

And I can't even concretely put any words to it all... That's why I guess I've been so absent in recent times. Not sure as to whether I should share what's going on inside of me, so frightened of coming across as ungrateful, obscure and neurotic. Although I guess that last word is pretty apt in my case. I wish I could express my feelings more eloquently, really hit the nail on the head with the right tournures, like some bloggers manage to do with such aplomb. But, unfortunately, I guess that's not my strength.

Last week I tried to chalk up all this emotional confusion and chaos to hormones, to the ups and downs of my monthly cycles, but I know that's not my only problem. I need some objective give-and-take, some exchange with someone outside of my own sphere of influence and some input as to how to go forward without spoiling the good things I really have going on, which really are there; I'm just having a hard time seeing them. I spend my time constantly trying to relativiser, putting things in perspective and telling myself that I am blessed and lucky in so many ways, but it's just not enough... I need some goals, something focused and clear to aim towards in the coming months. I need to reassess.

It's funny, because last Friday I had one of my euphoric moments, just after lunch, some retail therapy, some nice finds that momentarily cheered me up and brought me out of my funk. I even came back to my desk at work and thought, "You know what? I'm going to stop focusing on the negative, really see only the positive, look forward with a strong outlook, a great perspective. I'm going to stop being so pessimistic, so torn and paralyzed by fears."

But this didn't last very long. I'm not sure why. I even thought about how I was going to apply this positive outlook to my blog, share more of the good things going on in my life, and my reactions to other blogs I enjoy. And I still have that floating around in my mind now, but for some reason the need or desire has (temporarily, I hope) drifted away.

And so I find myself plagued by these erratic emotions, and I know a lot of it has to do with my feeling of stagnancy in my current situation, which I try not to dwell on here, or even to describe in any concrete manner. We all need goals, I guess, and although one of mine includes having a family, I think I'm also lacking a fulfilling goal in the here and now -- something I always had to guide me while I was a student. Perhaps that's why I've always jokingly said I was a better student than I am an adult in the real world, particularly professionally speaking.

It's on the days that I'm busiest, of course, that I don't have time to reflect too much on the negative, that I see things in a brighter light. When I can throw myself into cooking, and find that it fulfills me or gives me a sense of accomplishment, then I am okay, for a bit... Other days I escape into books or movies, music, and these distract me from the matters at hand, namely whether I will ever have a true focus in life, an actual career. I've always hated that question, when you first meet someone, as to what you actually do "for a living", rather than who you are. I hate that we must be defined by how we spend our times in an office all day long, or in the case of those who work from home, what we do with our time in front of a computer. I've always hated that people don't want to know more about what makes us who we are, what makes us tick, our background and upbringing, our interests, passions, preoccupations... This is something that has followed me, haunted me, for years. When meeting someone new, if his/her first question is what I do for a living, this turns me off, and I'm sorry to say that I will often write this person off, not dig any further myself, because it's a bad sign as to what that person really wants to know or wants to share about life in general. I'd much rather be asked about my loves, my passions, how I spend my time...

And maybe this is because, inherently, I lack that all-important focus. Yet I have so many interests -- that's probably my biggest problem! So many interests, no single, solid strength to carry them all into a worthwhile profession. Or none that seems clear to me at the moment (or has seemed clear in quite some time). I've considered teaching English over the years, I even tried it for a time. Not for me. (In fact, given my love for French, I'd probably be a much better French teacher. But try teaching French in France as a foreigner... The eternal catch-22...) I've worked in various different sectors, with varying professionals, and I don't think the corporate world is for me either. Private sector, public sector... UGH. In fact, I'm probably an artist at heart, lost at sea, trying to find a way to put my actual passions to work for me constructively. But I've never found that specific path, and part of my problem is perhaps that I haven't looked for it hard enough. All I've ever known, for years and years, is that I love French -- the language, the culture, the civilization... And I know I'm not alone in this; it's perfectly unoriginal. And whereas many of my friends and peers, both in my personal sphere and in the blogging world, came to France to be with the one they love, following them in the building of a life here, I came here, first and foremost, because this was where I wanted to live. It was my dream, in fact, to live and love in France. And I did find some love along the way; in fact, I've probably been most distracted and diverted by my love affairs over the years more than anything else. They have, in their own way, kept me from finding that particular vision, that sparkle, that single element that would help to define me as a unique individual, a person in my own right. Because I've felt that I've had so much love to give, and I've ached for so much love in return.

I know I love children, I love children's literature, I love many forms of art and music, particularly all those attached to France and French culture. But I've never found the perfect "professional" outlet for these interests. And the one time that I may have been close to finding that outlet, the circumstances were miserable (keeping me awake at night, giving me nightmares) and not motivating enough to keep me there. So now I float adrift, mucking my way through my days, métro-boulot-dodo, praying that this won't last forever, but not knowing whether to change directions, to start over again, to continue to plug away and hope for a change brought about by fate, or to turn things upside down and take new risks with regard to my current situation... and outlook. And not even knowing how to do that. Asking myself so many questions. I seem incapable of just living in the moment. Preoccupied by the possibilities and options, but not being able to act on them.

Torn, paralyzed.

La Honte in Le Havre

2007-06-28T15:08:00.000Z

Picture this, my dear readers, blogging friends: a darkened room where only my boyfriend, his father and I sit staring intently at the television screen (OK, check that, apparently the boy was dozing off...), watching Trois Couleurs : Rouge (I'm on a Kieslowski kick, I know), lounging on red leather chairs that look like they've launched directly off the Star Trek Enterprise. We're nearing the end of the film, it's after midnight, and I'm getting pretty tired. We spent the day walking around "central" Le Havre, where my boy's father lives, visiting the local bookshop La Galerne, which I love (and of course purchasing two books while there; I'm incapable of leaving a bookshop without a new acquisition...), as well as making a short drive over to Honfleur for a brief visit. We had greasy Domino's pizza for dinner earlier in the evening, believe it or not (yep, that's right, here in France) -- none of those fancy meals for us; we were simply too lazy this time around, and I didn't have the necessary ingredients (or recipes for that matter) to throw anything culinarily appetizing together. And, under most circumstances, his father is pretty laid-back and cool about that kind of thing. He's not too exigeant. And, well, a little pizza every once in a while never hurt anyone, right? Um, yeah, right.

That is, unless you're ME. Wendy-dear, you ain't seen nothing yet! I think I've got you beat, I'm afraid. At least for recent hilarity. On an embarrassment scale of 1 to 10, 10 being I'm-going-to-crawl-in-a-hole-and-never climb-back-out-I-swear-I'm-so-humiliated, this is a swinging 11. When it comes to embarrassing experiences -- really humiliating ones -- I think I must be the queen! And what is it about this sort of thing happening when you least expect it? And what is it about our bodies being completely out of our own control -- betraying us at the most inopportune of moments?

Yes, that's right, somehow my body betrayed me in front of my boyfriend's father. Late at night, in front of an intense, psychological film. I honestly thought I was fine; I didn't even see it coming... But when do we ever in circumstances like this? All right, what I'm getting at, if you can't read between the lines -- and because you're going to MAKE me write it here, aren't you? As if I haven't humiliated myself ENOUGH?! -- is that I passed gas. And unfortunately was not able to disguise it by blaming it on my boyfriend or the dog. My boy's father doesn't have any household pets. To my chagrin.

Needless to say, after that most horrible of faux-pas on Saturday night, my own eyes bulging out of my head while I stared at the television screen for the remaining 15 minutes of Rouge, not daring to glance right or left or to take in any reactions, I swallowed my pride and slunk up to our room on the top floor and fell into bed. I won't say that I cried, necessarily, but I didn't have the most restful of nights. OK, OK -- I know you're going to tell me it's no big deal. But just keep in mind that up until now my boy's father has, in most cases, made it clear that he quite likes me, aside for my over-sensitive streak which flares up from time to time. I enjoy spending time with my boy and his father, and in spite of the blistering, painful pangs that resonate in his mother's absence since her passing, we usually get along really well and even have pretty stimulating conversations. He's always really lovely with me, he never makes me feel ill at ease, and he even gives my boy a hard time when he's not helpful or complimentary with regard to my cuisine -- or my attire. In a word, he's a sweetheart. And I seriously do not want him to think less of me or to wonder about how I was raised...

So this -- I mean, really! WHY in God's NAME did this have to happen?! Of course, we're all human, and I kept telling myself that over and over again in my head Saturday night into Sunday morning. And maybe, in a sense, it should put me more at ease, right? Like, now we can all just be ourselves, naturally. (Ha ha -- yeah, right!) Again, ironically enough, my boy didn't even hear this happen, he was so dead-to-the-world, so when I managed to recount the incident to him after waking up the next morning, he was of course falling all over himself laughing. And he couldn't help but comment: "I think I might have sort of heard you, but then I thought to myself that you couldn't have done that."

Alrighty then. Way to help me recover myself and my composure.

Going down to breakfast on Sunday was no easy task -- but he did try to put me at ease, and here's hoping that all's *ahem* nearly forgotten.

Since the weekend, we had my boy's father over for dinner at our place, and I tried to make up for my lack of poise and elegance by throwing together one of his family's favorite dishes, une pintade aux pommes et lardons, with strawberries for dessert. As daunting as it may sound, it's actually really easy to make -- you just cook the sliced apples over the stove in a large pan with some butter and cinnamon, rub some olive oil, salt and spices onto the pintade, then put the bird in a Dutch-oven type casserole (I actually use a Römertopf, in terra cotta -- a wonderful gift from my boy's mother) with the shallots and a wee bit of water at the bottom... I left it for about an hour at 200° Celsius, but it may need a wee bit longer; the bird didn't seem fully cooked, so I put it in for another 10 minutes or so. After it's finished cooking, you can sauté up the lardons in a pan, add these to the cooked apples, and serve. See, easy as (apple) pie! And a perfect balance of sucré-salé.

We cracked open the one bottle of Rioja wine we had brought back from Spain last March (we would have brought back more if it weren't for those damn new European liquid-on-plane regulations) and it was gone in no time, which made it clear that we had made a good choice, but definitely hadn't bought enough.

I think beau-père was suitably pleased. But as to recovering my dignity, the jury's still out on that one.

* Photo of Le Havre's Port de plaisance courtesy of Photos-de-villes.com.

Paris-Lille, 24 Heures Chrono

2007-06-19T15:15:00.000Z

Because my boy had some business to attend to (so to speak) near Lille this weekend, and as his one sister lives right nearby, we decided to make a speedy trip up for the day on Saturday night, staying until Sunday evening. The original plan was to head back out late Sunday, after all the Parisians had settled into their homes and cleared up the highways, but I knew from the get-go that it was a dubious plan, especially since my boy has been particularly exhausted in recent times, and that the prospect of him making that two-hour drive back was going to be tough for both of us -- since car rides always either make me feel nauseous, even at my ripe ol' age, or fall asleep. And I don't know which is the lesser of two evils, when I'm meant to be keeping my boy company and preventing him from falling asleep at the wheel himself. And we certainly aren't helped by the fact that his car radio-CD player went on the fritz recently, due to some electrical problems, and he still hasn't had the opportunity to get that taken care of so we can have some tunes to keep us company on the road. Something I literally live for when making any kind of long car ride.

And this is where my lack of a French driver's license kicks in and makes me guilty, as usual. My boy has never made a big issue out of it in the past, because to be honest, up until now I haven't really needed one, what with us living in the Paris 'burbs and using public transportation on a daily basis. The only time I do honestly regret it is in moments like this: when fatigue or sheer exhaustion hit my boy and I know I could be taking the wheel if I simply had the legal paperwork allowing me to do so. I rarely miss driving, though, to be honest; I did have a car of my own in the States, a slate-blue Honda Civic that I bought on my own, and paid off over a four-year period -- the only major purchase I've ever made as a responsible adult! I was quite proud of that fact for the longest time, that no one had to co-sign or help me out and that I used a downpayment I had saved on my own. If only I'd kept up those good habits of saving now... (I'm trying to mend my ways, but it's slow going...) I sold that car and got the Blue-Book value just before moving to France, so it's in the distant past now. But I sometimes get nostalgic for it... Even if in the end I didn't even drive it all that often. I would walk to the office or take the bus in most cases.

I did kinda like cranking up my favorite music and singing along as I trekked back and forth between my place in D.C. and my parents' up in Northern Maryland (and is it just me, or did longer distances just somehow seem shorter over there -- in spite of the fact that we have to go slower on the highways?! I would just get in the car and go, without a moment's hesitation...), but that was really the only part of driving I enjoyed -- the music. Which, as I've mentioned before, seems to be the case for many things in my life, so it's become a recurring pattern. The music was the only thing that made the longer trips seem shorter and kept me occupied on the road. Because of that, I'm sure I never could have done a lot of traveling by car for a job or the like... And the fact that my boy's car now cannot play any music puts more than just a small wrench in the mechanism for me. There's no lyrics to sing along to, no funny voices to imitate, no rhythms to tap out on the dashboard. And my voice certainly isn't entertaining enough to make up for it! We chat about all sorts of things, of course, but talking only seems to go so far. And it's impossible for me to read in the car.

But he's been badgering me about it a bit more often recently, and it doesn't help that one of his closest friends has been haranguing me as well, repeatedly emphasizing how astonished he is that I haven't gotten my French permis de conduire so that I can drive if I so desire, or if the need arises. I guess I'm realizing with time that I probably eventually will need it, especially since we may move further away from the city in the long term. So this of course begs the next question: do I start studying for le Code? Just the possibility, the very idea of having to do so is daunting to me... I've heard so much about the difficulty, the stress -- some of my colleagues have told me time and again that they would hate to have to go through with it again, so I already dread it, and I don't even know all that it entails. And then there's Sam's recounting of her experience, which has put the fear of God in me as well... Of course, she just recently passed le Code, which is an amazing feat in and of itself. So I guess that's proof that it is possible. And I do have other expat friends who have managed to attain the coveted Code and subsequently the permis. But my anxious nature often plays hijinks on me, and I just have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to take a heck of a lot of work on my part to succeed. Especially the driving part. Namely because I don't know how to drive a stick shift. (*Cue raucous laughter*)

Our trip up to Lille and back, in practically 24 hours' time, was basically a wake-up call to me... I knew in advance that my boy was never going to be able to muster up enough strength to drive back to Paris on Sunday night, especially after a long day and an early rising on Sunday morning. I briefly considered taking the TGV back on Monday morning and heading straight to work, but there were no reserved seats left on the train, and at that price I' m not about to spend the trip standing. The whole point of taking the train is to relieve the stress of driving and to be able to relax, at least in my book, so it seemed pointless to pay a fortune and not be able to sit down. So we woke up at 5:00 a.m. on Monday and hit the road a little after 6:00. I did make it to work only two minutes late, but the drive wasn't easy, for either one of us. It would obviously help things if we could take turns on the road. I tried to talk my boy out of even making the trip in the first place, because I wondered how reasonable it was, but any opportunity he has to spend with his family is precious to him, and I understand how he feels.

So there's another task to add to my growing to-do list these days... We'll see how productive I manage to be in the coming months!

Only Ten? (I Could Go on Forever...)

2007-06-13T14:19:00.000Z

OK, OK I get it: you've all had enough of Tori. Tori this, Tori that -- I promise she's not the only topic I have on my mind these days! On the contrary, for once I'm sort of brimming with creative thoughts and reflections, so we'll see how productive I can make myself and share those things here with you and all the world. I've just been tremendously lazy these past few days, and I've been trying to catch up on my blog-reading. Now let's see if I can actually participate in some blog-writing for a change!

Oh, and on a side note, I just had to say thanks here in my own space to Petite, Le Meg, Mr. FwAB and Rhino for putting together the great Paris Bloggers' Picnic last Saturday. Yes, I did go (after hemming and hawing for days as to whether I would make it...) and I had a great time, but ended up leaving a little earlier than planned. Then again, I don't know if I had any particular departure time planned per se, so that may not be so true... Let's just say that my boy dragged me away kicking and screaming after he realized I had downed just a wee bit too much red wine. But that's nothing new! He doesn't say I'm the one with the bonne descente for nothing...

So that leads me to the point of this post: Ten Things about me that you may not (or probably shouldn't) already know, unless you're a mind-reader or are living the double of my life on the other side of the planet, like something out of La Double vie de Véronique...

Earlier last week my dear JennC at NPLI tagged me for a new meme, and this one I promised to participate in, even if it killed me... Which it may very well do, because although I'm sure there are loads of things I haven't shared about myself on this here blog (but apparently enough for certain somebodies to track me down and identify me though, eh?!) I'm not so sure all that many of them are "interesting". And that, dear friends, is apparently the goal of this meme. So "Ten Interesting Things" you say? Let's give it a go... (in no particular order)

1. I've always been crazy about illustration, cartoons or animation in some way, shape or form, but most especially as a little girl. It started out with a frightening obsession with Garfield (bear with me folks -- I was 9 at the time!), who I would draw everywhere and reproduce in all of my school notebooks. This eventually led to the creation of my own cartoon character, Binky the Mouse, who certainly would never be able to compete with our dear beloved Mickey. I also tinkered with the greeting card domain in my youth, drawing cards for family members and even trying to sell some of them. I distinctly remember a series of "Heart People" cards -- I should have had them syndicated! I moved into a heavy-duty Disney stage from 9 to 13, and then became fascinated with all things Pooh -- the Classic Pooh, thank-you-very-much, Ernest Shepard style, long before that particular fascination became popular. Now Pooh paraphernalia is rampant, mais bien sûr. I even bizarrely remember writing an Honors essay for a college entrance exam in which we were asked to create a holiday, and I decided that all children's book illustrators should be honored, and named E.H. Shepard as my prime example. I think a holiday like that actually exists now! (but I promise it didn't back then...) Wish I could take credit for it.

Later on, in high school, I mentored with a political cartoonist and toyed with the idea of pursuing that career path -- but I knew it wasn't for me when I realized how very much I abhor politics in general, and no matter how hard I try I cannot muster up enough strength or interest to devote more than 15 minutes' attention to a political discussion -- if that. So shoot me.

2. And this, ironically, leads me to my previous job posting in the U.S. before moving to France about five years ago... How in the hell I ever ended up there, I could not tell you really, aside from the fact that a random opportunity fell into my lap and I decided I would give it a go, even if it was only for six months or a year and if it didn't use any of the skills I had hoped to be using on a daily basis (namely my French...). That particular job had me, on one occasion, face to face in a limousine with Mr. Bill Clinton himself while he was being interviewed for Esquire magazine, one of his final interviews before the end of his second term of presidency. [As an aside, the author of that interview, Michael Paterniti, wrote a fascinating book about driving across the country with Einstein's brain in the trunk of his car. He was quite the character in person, too!] I did get to shake his hand before getting into the car (and quickly wish him a belated birthday) but I think the most memorable part of that experience was the deer-in-headlights look on my face as I tried to register the fact that if I didn't get that interview fully on tape, and if that tape was missing the slightest smidgen of dialogue, I would be in DEEP caca. (And I know about that look because I was recorded on video by military staff!) So how did a politics-abhorrent gal end up there? Again, don't ask; life sometimes throws us curveballs like that. But trust me, it didn't last long! (Especially since Bush, Jr. was soon to be in office, and I couldn't imagine finding myself in the same room as him in order to record his humdingers for posterity -- so I was transferred to an office at the State Department.)

3. Music played a huge role in my life for years (another thing missing from my daily routine now): I sang in a choir from the age of 10 to 21 and played the piano for even longer. I even had a music minor in college, although you could hardly tell now, given the fact that I haven't touched the keys in more than 10 years, I'm ashamed to say. I do miss it sometimes, although I think I was always playing for the wrong reasons. I'm hoping the desire to play, and the right opportunity, will arise when I least expect it, and that the notes will come back to me somehow. I'd like to think it's similar to riding a bike, but I know it's much tougher than that! I even think I've forgotten how to read music, and that frightens me. Strangely enough, when I sang in choirs, it was always with other gals, as I went to an all-girls high school and then a women's college. There's another intriguing tidbit for you! Singing in the shower today, in any case, can hardly qualify as living up to my musical potential. (Even if my boy finds this highly entertaining. Apparently it even brightens his day to hear me yodeling away in there.)

4. My first "real" concert as a teenager is also a reflection of my madness for all things piano-related: Billy Joel. (All right, all right, stop laughing -- these were the days of "We Didn't Start the Fire" not "Uptown Girl." Although I did end up loving all of his stuff! Oddly, I hardly ever listen to him anymore, although my older brother is still a fan.) Later on in college I saw Peter Gabriel -- now that was some performance! As you can see, my musical interests somewhat diverged at that point.

5. After all those years of playing the piano, and then my subsequent gradual love of all things French, I ended up becoming fascinated with Frédéric Chopin and his relationship with George Sand and managed to jangle those two interests together into an independent study in my final year of college, my justification for returning to Paris for three weeks in my final semester before graduating. This led to a paper entitled "Chopin : L'harmonie d'une double identité" or something of that sort, proof positive that I was probably not cut out to write university research papers for the rest of my life. I was (and still am, I guess) a pathetic romantic, and had a way of turning things so they all sounded stickily sweet and melodramatic. I still adore Chopin's work, but I was never able to play any of his work with true passion. My strengths lay in the domain of Bach, Haydn and Mozart... As romantic as I am, my perfectionistic personality tripped me up every time. And prevented me from truly interpreting any "romantic" work with personal flair.

6. I had a hernia operation in my belly (technically my abdomen) when I was four years old, and I hardly have any memory of it aside from visions of an adorable doggy puppet that I was alllowed to choose from the hospital gift cart after the operation. Of course, to this day I can't entirely forget that moment, though, as I have a scar just above my bellybutton that will remain there forever. And as a result I still feel uncomfortable wearing a two-piece bathing suit -- and I haven't even had kids!

7. That's not my only bodily scar, though, as a few years ago, in my tiny studio apartment in the 18th I managed to burn my right thigh with an iron as I attempted to do two things at once -- I never said I was very good at multitasking! Another reason why I now hate swimsuit season, as that scar is virtually impossible to hide or camouflage -- unless someone has some really powerful (and waterproof) makeup! I also have a tiny scar on my chin as a result of a backwards dive into the pool when I was about 10 -- trying to imitate my older brother, bien sûr. It was all his fault. The vivid image I've retained from that day is of my Olive Oyl bathing suit being stained by bright-red blood. What is it about me remembering what I was wearing in moments like that? Sheesh.

8. Like when my father had a stroke when I was 11; he was only 37 at the time. I was kneeling beside my bed with a hot hair iron in my hand, curling my hair under as my mother had so painstakingly taught me (without burning my ears in the process). This was 1985, people! To this day I have vivid memories of that morning -- and the peculiarity of my shorts-ensemble with tiny umbrellas all over it. I was preparing for Field Day at school. When I heard the commotion downstairs, I ran down and in the panic of the moment called 911 and proceeded to tell the emergency operators that my father had fallen off of a ladder while helping my mother clean the windows. In my defense, there was a ladder in the kitchen, and I think they were cleaning the windows together. But of course I didn't understand what had happened. All I could see was my daddy on the floor in my mother's arms, as she held a spoon in his mouth so he wouldn't swallow his tongue. He had in fact been helping my mom with the windows, and when I saw the ladder I put two and two together in my child's mind. There was no way I could know what had really happened, although I would soon learn and then speak about it at school in a future science class.

9. I can't stand anything science or math-related, so following my mother in the nursing profession was a virtual impossibility, even though I briefly entertained the idea in elementary school. I managed to get decent grades in those classes, but only because I was a complete nerd and studied like crazy for everything. But I am in awe of all those who work in the medical profession, including my best friend, who is a psych resident in New Orleans. To think that she's a doctor, and a really good one at that, is unfathomable to me. Yet it's true. And she loves it!

10. I hate the taste of licorice or anis, something I think I must share with a lot of other people out there. As a result, anything with those flavors, or something similar, including pastis or fennel, seems disgusting to me. There are a lot of things that I've grown to like over the years, and I know my tastes have changed enormously, but this is one that I think will remain unchanged.

Is it really obvious how completely unrelated most of these Ten Things were? Oh well, that's me in a nutshell. Just a jumble of random, unrelated information, and overflowing with contradictions! Someone recently told me this may be a result of the fact that I'm a Leo on the cusp of Virgo, something that probably also explains my extreme incapacity to make a decision. Does anyone have a cure for this?

Oh, and I believe I'm meant to tag some people out there with this meme thingie, although I'm not quite sure how many I'm meant to tag. But I'd love for y'all to participate! So let's hear it from:

Antipo (I'm sure she's done these before, but she'll make this real entertaining!)
Amy at C'est la Me
Colour Me Crazy (you haven't done this yet, have you?!)
Emily in France
Little Fugitive
and
Jennifer at RuebyStreet

On a Tori High

2007-06-04T10:01:00.001Z

All day yesterday I was up on a Tori cloud, and I'm just about coming down today, although I'm still not fully recovered from the intense experience on Saturday night... It's true what Kyliemac said: no matter where you are in the performance hall, Tori's feeling resonates and her passion reaches out to you and sucks you in, in spite of yourself... I do wish that our seats had been a bit closer (you always want things to be better, right?!) but it really didn't have an effect on the musical experience itself. I just would have loved to have been able to feel like I could reach out and touch her, or at least watch her fingers fly over those keys, up close and personal. It's absolutely amazing what she can do... And her energy -- only one real "break" early on in the concert, and then a few short breaks near the end (before her first and second encore), but otherwise she performed for more than two hours straight, and it was non-stop magic! There is no other word for it.

So as I gradually come down from my cloud, I've been surfing the Net and reading pieces on her new album release, as well as watching interviews and performances on YouTube. It's funny how a concert like that can make you thirsty for more information, for more of the experience. I totally agree that American Doll Posse really packs a punch and is a huge contrast to her last album, The Beekeeper. I wouldn't say I was necessarily disappointed with that album, but it didn't really stay with me the way this one already seems to have done. I've been listening to the Posse for two weeks straight now, and I'm not yet tired of it! On the contrary, more and more of the songs are growing on me. I've even established my favorite "character" (Clyde) among the five personalities she created to represent each song. At first I thought I might find her inclusion of so many songs on one album a bit overdone, as Télérama claimed (although overall they still give the album a positive review), but now I believe I disagree: each one has its value and each and every one has its own particular feel and place on the album.

I wanted to post the video above from YouTube because I thought it was fascinating to see the behind-the-scenes work on the costumes and set-up for the album cover art. I got a kick out of this one...: it's an interview on the UK program Loose Women, from April 19th, which is fairly entertaining, and followed by a performance of two songs.

I'm glad Tori touched upon almost all of her albums during the concert, although it was surprising that she didn't perform any pieces from Scarlet's Walk. I imagine it all must depend on her mood and the location, as well as what strikes her fancy at the time. Of course, there may be many more things that come into play when deciding on a set list, but I think she did an excellent job of keeping us on the edge of our seats, and I waited with baited breath from one song to the next to hear what she would put out there. And of course, being the complete nerd that I am, I couldn't stop myself from keeping the rhythm right there in my seat. Why oh why don't the French get more into concerts, by the way? I have to admit I haven't been to live concerts that often here in Paris (I did mention that I was a bit of a homebody, didn't I?!), but I would have thought people would be up on their feet, singing and dancing along -- alas, this was not the case... Perhaps because the songs are in English? If someone can enlighten me...

Tori really must have been in a Pele mood, as Lauren and Kyliemac both pointed out, because she ended up performing four songs from that album, as well as an interlude "playing" of Professional Widow while she was taking her break. It was great to hear some of her lesser-known pieces as well, including Siren -- I love that song, but couldn't place where I had heard it before... Of course, Lauren saved the day for me once again by letting me know it was from the Great Expectations soundtrack. Now I seriously want to get my hands on that! (Anyone want to loan me a copy? Pretty-please?!)

I also finally pulled out my copy of Piece by Piece, the joint autobiography Tori wrote with Ann Powers two years ago, which I picked up back then but still haven't gotten around to reading. I believe now may be the time...

P.S. ~ I just wanted to add an extra little note here at the end to thank all the gals for a great evening out; the concert was unforgettable, and I'm so glad we were able to work out the details and make it happen! Long live Tori-mania...

A Weekend of Good (Comfort) Food

2007-05-28T10:26:00.000Z

I wanted to write a little about the foods I enjoyed, not this past weekend -- at least, not yet -- but some wonderful bits and bobs that I savored about two months ago, just before my boy ended up in the hospital (long story, for another time) and things went a little topsy-turvy in my life. (This post has found itself in rough versions several times and I thought I would never finish it!) I'm actually nibbling on one of my terrible péchés mignons right now, something I tend to crave from time to time, and a treat that I never seem to be able to stop myself from indulging in: saucisson sec. So as I sit here guiltily chomping down on my saucisson and salted butter on toast, I thought I would share some wonderful comfort foods I prepared a few months back, foods that cheered me up on a lousy, cold, grey weekend -- and how à propos that today, in late May, it is once again cold and grey -- and rainy! Ah, Paris...

Of course, as we all know, "comfort food" comes in all shapes and forms, and I don't even know how exactly you can define it, but apparently someone has on Wikipedia:

Comfort food
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

"The term comfort food refers to any food or drink to which one habitually turns for temporary respite, security, or special reward. The reasons that something becomes a comfort food are diverse but include the food's familiarity, simplicity, and/or pleasant associations. Small children often seem to latch on to a specific food or drink (in a way similar to a security blanket) and will repeatedly request it in high stress situations. Adults, however, are certainly not exempt.
A substantial majority of comfort foods are composed largely of simple or complex carbohydrate, such as sugar, rice, refined wheat, and so on. It has been postulated that such foods induce an opiate-like effect in the brain, which may account for their soothing nature."

I guess this is not so much a definition of what comfort food is exactly but what the expression refers to, and how certain foods with assocations become a form of comfort to us. What comes to mind for me is my mom's macaroni and cheese, how it's perfect every time and just somehow so reassuring, no matter what time of year it is (God, I miss that stuff!). More recently, comfort foods have taken on a whole new meaning to me, especially since I started cooking. I don't know what I would have done without this cookbook over the past two winters in France; it has become my kitchen bible, and I guess it helps that I'm a big fan of soups, both hot and cold. And what's more comforting than soup? I'm always curious to try new combinations and experiment with different ingredients, probably also due to the fact that I used to buy a lot of my lunchtime homemade soups at a little sandwicherie at métro stop 4 septembre in Paris, a place called Stanie's run by a young couple who used to work in advertising and decided to start a business of their own (I no longer work in their neighborhood, so I don't get to eat there as often, and I sure miss it...). I could never get enough of Rebecca's homemade soups, whether it was lentil with coconut in the dead of winter or cold, rich avocado soup with a splash of lemon juice in the summer (that stuff was to die for, trust me, and I've never been able to replicate it, to this day; I seriously licked the bowl...). I don't tend to experiment much in the kitchen at all, as I'm not yet confident enough to do so. But I do like to add in a bit more of this or that when I'm making a new soup. I'm a big fan of carrot soup with coconut milk and fresh cilantro (pretty Thai-inspired, I guess), and just two weeks ago I made a variation of the cold avocado soup with cucumber and tomato juice ice cubes (it was quite intriguing, I promise...) based on a recipe in this magazine. But the book Soupes du jour is SO easy to follow, it's a no-brainer; you simply can't screw any of these recipes up!

This late March afternoon found me preparing a batch of rich, heavy lentil soup (page 26). In my mind there is nothing quite so nourishing, or comforting, as lentil soup, especially paired with some refreshing cilantro leaves. Since I discovered it, as soon as the weather turns grey and cold outside I throw some together to keep me warm on the inside. The fresh green cilantro brightens up what might not look so appetizing at first, but once you spoon some of this into your mouth, you won't regret it! And it's the simplest thing to make; you just have to be patient enough to allow the green lentils to simmer away for about an hour. I do tend to use the lentilles vertes du Puy, even though they are a bit more expensive, if only because the flavor seems to be richer and the lentils themselves seem to hold up better over time.

That same weekend I also made one of my best apple crumbles in a while. Ironically enough, when I was growing up I wasn't a big fan of anything apple-based, especially baked apples, apple pie, or anything of the like. I can't quite explain why; it just didn't do anything for me... But you know how our tastes change with time (as Aussie Lass has also recently reminded us over in her digs)! I wish I had a nickel (or a Euro for that matter) for every time I've realized that I actually like something I used to insist I didn't like in the past... The list could go on forever -- and I'd be pretty rich!

I used my favorite salted butter (I'm partial to Grand Fermage's Butter with sea salt from Noirmoutier) and added in a pinch of cinnamon and ginger. This baby didn't last long at all! Talk about warm comfort... Add some crème anglaise or vanilla ice cream, and we have a winner.

In between my own time spent in the kitchen, my boy and I also went back to one of my very favorite neighborhood haunts in the 18th arrondissement, a tiny family-run restaurant that became my cantine for almost two years. I even celebrated my 30th birthday there: it's called Le Potager. I don't often get the opportunity to go back these days, now that I'm out in the 'burbs, but anytime I'm craving a nice, reasonably-priced meal, I make a reservation. And anytime I have friends coming into town, I always recommend a stop there. As a matter of fact, when Emily was in town about two weeks ago with her friend Dawn, we met up at métro Abbesses and enjoyed a nice, filling dinner. Every time I go, I absolutely cannot pass up their oeuf cocotte au foie gras; it's to die for! One of my all-time favorite entrées...

I can't get enough of it, and I find myself scraping out the bottom of that ramequin to make the pleasure last. I imagine it must be easy to prepare at home, and it's certainly not made with the finest of foie gras, but the combination of flavors is deliciously rich -- and comforting! There's hardly enough room for a main dish after that, but you're talking to a real gourmande here, so there's no way I'm going to pass up more food! I also highly recommend their magret de canard, served with either a honey, blackberry or fig (my fave) sauce. And they have these wonderful main dishes that consist of various tartine combinations, including a melted goat cheese with cumin. The names of these tartines are all a play on words, like "la Mère Veille" or "la Mère Cedes".

For such a tiny establishment, they have a real following, and it's almost impossible to get a table à l'improviste. That's why I try to reserve either the day before or the same day, earlier in the evening. But if you're going to be passing through Montmartre in the near future, give it a try! I'm pretty sure you won't be disappointed...

* Comfort Foods image courtesy of smileandactnice.com.