Finally, everything you ever wanted to know about Turkey

Oh my god. I was desperately trying to finish up a photo album project of our Turkey trip in time for Father's Day, spending my afternoons sifting through the 500 photos that I took (and I still haven't gotten the disc with my mom's photos, but I think my brain would collapse at the task of sorting through the 500 shots that she probably has on her disc. I don't want this to sound mean, but my mom? She takes photos of really stupid shit and then? She gets mad at me when I don't put those shots in the album or try to delete them off the computer. I know, I know. Who am I to judge?) ANYWAYS, the album still isn't done since it turned out to be impossibly long, ie too long to fit in the printers' guidelines so I am now doing some more severe editting. I want to get this done though before I leave for the States, so I have got to just finish it up. I have lost all my momentum now, and its harder to force myself to face the task. Saying that, Snapfish has a really great program for putting together albums and the printing is nice, based on the last album I did.

So, I decided that since I haven't any interest in doing the album today, I might as well do a bit of a blog entry, to get down some of the details of our trip. The first three days, we stayed in Istanbul and hit all the big tourist sights- The Blue Mosque, where we were harassed by a carpet salesman/tour guide, the Aga Sophia, with its stunning mosaics, and dinner at the Armada hotel, where we joined by a very friendly (and tenacious) seagull who sat in a pot of flowers and begged table scraps off of us for the entire meal. We discovered that Turkish wine is not half bad. The second day we visited Topkapi Palace, which is pretty cool- especially the Treasury with its giant bowl o' emeralds and the harem. It was very big and by the end of the day we were exhausted, besides which, I was getting freaked out because people would not stop trying to touch Ella. It was a Turkish holiday weekend so there were lots of big groups of Turks, maybe people from the country travelling into the city I suppose, but I was shocked that they would be so impressed by a blonde baby. She's not that blonde and I didn't think it would such a rare sight in Turkey where there are so many foreigh tourists. I'm just happy that I had the backpack to stick her in whenever the crowds got too rowdy for my liking. Honestly, all that I could think about was Madeline McCann, and the idea that it wasn't really that weird for a stranger to just want to walk off with a pretty little girl that caught his eye. That night we took a ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side and ate in a beautiful little resto in Uskander, out in the gardens under the stars.

We did a quick tour of the Grand Bazaar and we were totally scared off buying by all the aggressive salespeople. Its really intimidating. I mean, we hardly dared stop walking to fix a shoe lace because if you weren't moving, you were fair game for a hard sell. Yuck. I was also thinking that most of the stuff was probably just tat and couldn't be bothered to look. I think that might have been a bit of a mistake. Just before we were getting on our airplane, I decided to go and buy a few 'pashminas' to use as blankets for Ella. I thought that even if they were the fake viscose ones, it would be good enough for using on the plane. Once I got home, I realized that quality was fantastic and since I bought two, I got them for 7 euro a piece. If I had bought more, the per unit price would have been even lower! I was kicking myself for not getting about 6 more, since they would also have been awesome presents to keep in the Cadeau Cupboard for emergencies. So, let me error be a lesson for someone else.

The very very best part of Istanbul though was the Archeological Museum, which is part of the Topkapi Palace, but a separate entrance fee. I thought I would pop in for an hour or so before we had to leave for the airport and ended up going by myself. It was so amazing that I felt bad that everyone else missed it. Honestly, I knew that modern day Turkey encompasses a lot of important sites from the ancient world, but this just drove home the point. There are stunning sarcophagus from the Alexander the Great period. Amazing mosaic floors and walls, statuary from temples. The most incredible headstones from a Greek cemetary, with the original painted inscription still visible. I loved this place and it was practically empty, which I cannot even begin to understand. The comparative exhibits in Paris at the Louvre are crowded beyond capacity and they look like a 6th-grade science fair exhibit compared to what you will find at the Archeology Museum in Istanbul. I cannot wait to go back, and recommend it to anyone who visits the city. For the price of entry, its a steal compared to lots of the other sites.

So that afternoon, we hopped on a flight down to the coast to get on the boat. 'Hop' makes it sound like getting to the airport was no big deal. I don't want to give you that impression. I very very stupidly decided to save 20 euro per person and booked us a flight out of Sabbia Gocek airport, that may have actually been located in Iran, when I think about how bloody long it took us to drive there. Seriously, don't make this mistake if you are in Istanbul. Cough up the cash and use Ataturk airport. So much easier. We arrived at Dalaman airport, our driver was already waiting and he whisked us off to the boat, at which point we all just died with happiness. The boat was so pretty and the crew was so nice and the manager, Petra, did everything possible to make sure that we hadn't the tiniest unsatisfied desires, that it was like heaven. We motored out of the harbor at 6 in the evening , with a golden glow over the water, a glass of champagne in hand, nothing to do but wait for our crew to put dinner on the table. Heaven, I tell you.

Every day was like that- even the not great things seemed really good. We tried to sail lots but the wind was not perfect, which didn't make it any less fun for us, I think. The water was also pretty refreshing- not cold, but you definitely had to force yourself in the first time. We visited some really beautiful places along the coast, like Oludeniz beach, St Nicholas Island, and Fethiye (with a sidetrip inland to the ghost town of Kaya). We really just loved being on the boat and having such a relaxing time. It was a million times more relaxing for me than any of our beach holidays, and Ella was along, so that is really saying something. Speaking of which, Ella loved the boat. No, she LOVED the boat. I think it was so fascinating for her, with all the little cubby holes, and gadgets, and ropes, and you could climb up and over everything with no one getting angry, and she could lay in bed and nap and still hear us just nearby. There was no TV, and we only remembered the Ipod doc on the third or fourth day, so we all kept occupied with books and talking and eating- absolutely no electronic amusements. And it was really nice to do it with my family. There are times that I have been on holiday and thought, 'Oh, I wish my parents/sister/brother could be here because they would love this so much'. I know that it was a lot of work to organize, but before we got off the boat, I was already pushing my parents to come back next year, or the year after, and make all my siblings come along. Its pretty tight quarters on a boat and you can't plan a trip like this with just anyone, in my opinion. We were all in such a great mood the entire time that I can't remember a single tense moment from the entire 6 days. Thats weird. I mean, we get along, but still.

An amazing thing about this part of the Turkish coast (which may be true for other areas, but I wouldn't know) is that there are Roman and Byzantine ruins still standing everywhere you look. For an American, this is particularly thrilling, I know. I loved walking through these ancient cities, amazed that I cold still climb the stairs that people had been using a thousand years before I was born. But even B was impressed. France has old cities that you can visit, but nothing as old as this. I think that the fact that these areas were no remote had a lot do with it. In France, I think most cities have just kept being built over and over so that the oldest party just melts into the new and you don't have many places that were just abandoned in the 5th century, or the 12th centry. I stopped in a bookstore and bought some Turkish history books because I just got so intrigued but there is a lot of cutting off the heads in those books, so I am slogging my way through. If this were a slightly more academic blog, I might bore you with my more complicated theories about why these places still exist, but I won't. My poor dear husband got to spend the flight back to Paris getting an earful. I can promise you, he wasn't the most receptive audience, not having a great interest in urban planning theory.

After the boat, we were sad sad sad. Thought that the villa in Kalkan would be a dull interlude before climbing on our flights back home, but how wrong we were. Ok, the villa in Kalkan was not awesome since it was not so much in the middle of olive groves as in the middle of a suburban construction boom. We had another house about 5 meters from ours, blocking nearly the entire view of the sea. Our pool was miniscule and the staircase was just about as rickety a child-safety hazard as you can imagine. But the old town was full of nice restaurants. The surrounding area had some great sights to visit and the roads were really nice compared to other places we have toured around (rural Ireland, I'm talking to you...) The BEST thing we did was to visit Salkikent Gorge. We thought it was just going to be a little fenced in walking path along the river, as we gazed up at the narrow canyon walls. A slight language barrier had us accepting the offers of a guide who quite literally hauled our big out-of-shape American asses up the canyon, over boulders, through waterfalls, in the most icy cold water you can imagine- all of this with Ella strapped to B's back, screaming 'Don't like it! Wanna go home! NOW!' Honestly, when we realized that we would have to actually go in the water (and even then, we thought it was just going to be a little bit of rock-hopping) we hesitated. Then we decided, no. We drove all the way out here. Let's just walk up the river a few hundred yards. Thats when this little Turkish guy (cotton farmer in the off-season) grabbed my mom's hand after doing some sort of incomprehenible negotiation with her, and told us all to make a line. He started dragging her in the water and we didn't have time to think. We grabbed hands and plunged in. Up to our crotches. In water so cold, it literally made my leg muscles seize up. I don't even drink things this cold. It was like there was a glacier up at the top of the canyon and we were wadding in the arctic run-off. To put it mildly, I was not prepared for that. Well, our 'guide' took off at a brisk pace and I was left hopping around on the gravel, trying to get my feet to work. For the first half hour, I would say, I couldn't step in the water without it feeling like burning needles. Then, I guess my nerve endings went numb and it wasn't so bad. I could even appreciate the Indiana Jones-ness of it all. The water wasn't particularly deep, although it was running quite fast, but our guide told us just where to place our feet and jumped in to push or pull whenever needed. I went crazy with my camera because it was truly hilarious to see my fam frantically scrambling over ice cold waterfalls, with our tiny Turkish cheerleader egging us on harder, while dressed for a quite lunch on a terrasse. I think it took us about 2 hours, and we went loads further than any other group of tourists, although apparently not quite far enough to reach the mud baths- which surely would have been good for some practical jokes and photo ops.

Our trip back to Istanbul was a nightmare and so was our drive out to the airport the morning of our flight- and let me warn you, if you miss your flight DO NOT count of the kindness of Turkish Air staff to generously offer you a seat on the next flight. Just leave for the airport way way way ahead of time. Whatever. We'll definitely be back, probably on a boat, and I can't wait. And I brought back the best souvenir!

Turkey, in a nutshell

Don't think that I have time today to do a complete blow-by-blow of our two weeks in Turkey, but I could sum up the whole thing very simply by saying it was an awesome vacation. I would even go so far as to say that it makes the Top Three Best Vacations Ever. I think that the 6 days on the boat were what made it so fantastic and I honestly cannot recommend this enough as a great way to spend a holiday. The boat was beautiful, the food that they served was the best that we ate in the entire two weeks, the crew was lovely and helpful, the sailing was so much fun, the places that they took us to visit and the scenery the entire time were superb and it was so relaxing because all we had to do is sit back and enjoy it. We booked a fairly small boat, only 22 meters, and this was an excellent choice since we wanted to do lots of sailing and the boats bigger than 22 m seemed to use their motor almost exclusively, which I think is an awfully boring way to do the trip. Having said that, we were only 6 passengers on the boat (although technically there was space for 10) and so for a bigger group I suppose it might be more comfortable to get something bigger. I saw boats that were much more luxurious when I was doing my research but now that I did the trip, I think it would be pretty unnecessary to pay more money just for that. In any case, I cannot say enough good things about Petra, the manager of Vira Yachting, or Yucel, our captain. We didn't want to get off the boat and spent the rest of the vacation dreaming about coming back next year.

shopping finds for the weekend

Don't want to end the week with a rant. Here are a few photos of my finds on a dash through the shops today. I found this hat at my fav hatmaker in Village St Paul. Can you believe it only cost 30 euro (the same at Bon Marche would easily cost 100) and she even sized it for me while I waited and added some velcro inside when I told her I would be wearing it on the boat. She is a really lovely woman and I can't recommend this store highly enough. Ella has her little pink one still from last year, but after three trips in my suitcase the white straw hat that I had bought was looking the worse for wear- mangled and greasy and like it had had one mojita too many. Still, its better to wear a hat to death and be wrinkle free than to keep in nicely and mostly in the cupboard. Besides, short of taking a hatbox as carryon, I can't imagine how to keep a hat safe while flying.

My other great find were these books. Found them at the Red Wheel Barrow on rue St Paul. They are all set in post-war London and a definitely a study of mores more than anything else. So far so good. I had meant to save them for Turkey, but I can't manage to keep my hands off them. And so pretty! I think that I might end up giving them away as gifts, finally. Unfortunately, these were a bit on the pricey side.

In-laws

I should be busily getting my bags packed for our weekend at B's parents place in the country but I am dragging my feet. When he first mentioned it, I thought he just wanted to go and see his dad but now it turns out that his stepmother has invited the entire family so what I imagined to be a fairly relaxing day or two around the pool is going to be like a Death March with appertifs. Ugh.

For nearly 10 years, I've been spoiled and his family has had the absolute bare minimum of family occasions. Suddenly, his stepmom has decided that she LOVES to have all their children and grandchildren and daughters-in-law together and its a constant stream of invites for dinners and weekends (ok, I shouldn't exaggerate. Its probably only been like 3 times in 6 months but that is far more than the previous average of once a year). Its not that I dislike any of his family, but its such an effort. They argue a lot, or more precisely, they continually contradict each other rather than just have a normal conversation, something which I find completely exhausting to listen to. The house is dark and cold and I don't think that there are more than 2 comfortable places to sit in the whole house. How can you have a 400m² house and only two comfortable chairs? It seems not even statistically possible, but there you have it. I have dreams about re-furnishing the house so that it is finally cozy and comfortable. Actually, now that I think about it, its probably the thing that I most dread about going there. And the towels are small and scratchy. And we have to share a bathroom with so many people. And there is never any orange juice for breakfast but if I bring any food with me, my MIL is horribly horribly insulted. And there are tile floors everywhere but I'm not allowed to wear shoes in the house, so I end up with horribly sore legs as well as filthy socks, since I forget my slippers every single time we go. And without fail, B disappears off on some errand for his father and I am left sitting there like an idiot wondering what I am supposed to be doing. Should I be helping in the kitchen? Keeping Ella out of everyone's way? Keeping myself out of everyone's way but leaving Ella to be fussed over? Admiring the garden? Suggesting outings? One decade into this thing, and I am still at a complete loss.

But by far my biggest complaint is the 'schedule' that we have to follow when we are there. They have these endless late lunches which I hate because it screws up the entire day. If you enjoy a bit of a lie in, then you have barely finished getting yourself caffeinated and washed and dressed and its time to start helping setting the table for lunch. Then its time for an apperitif. Then the meal starts and maybe two hours later, coffee is being offered, but now it is probably 2 or 3 in the afternoon and you still haven't actually done anything- not even jumped in the pool. The afternoon is ticking away and the clouds have probably moved in, but now its time to clean up from this massive meal, which obviously takes ages since you are constantly having to stop and ask for instructions from your rather persnickety MIL. If you are smart, and didn't eat much, you might be able to manage an hour or two of swimming. If you were silly and actually took a bit of everything offered, you will spend the rest of the afternoon lying in the shade and digesting. And just about when you are feeling up to moving around, its dinner time, and it starts all over again.

Honestly, I am much happier to go and visit in the winter when eating and digesting are my activities of choice but in summer it drives me crazy. We finally get out of the city and have a heated pool in the backyard, an entire forest to play in with bikes and 4-wheelers, animals to feed, a pond to fish in, lots of nice shady corners for reading. But all we do is prepare the meals, eat the meals, and clean-up the meals. Slightly monotonous, if you ask me.

I just never feel like I've spent a very relaxing weekend, especially if there are other people visiting as well. I guess 'relaxing' wouldn't be the first word I would use to describe the big family functions on my side, but atleast I'm having fun. I feel like such an old grouch complaining about it because it doesn't seem very nice. But its such an obligation to go and B will never ever in a million years consider going to visit his father on his own without me. He always asks me in a shocked voice 'But what would they think?!' Oh please. His family is his job to deal with. I don't know why he has it in his head that I should be dying to go and spend time with people that I would never give a toss about if they weren't his family. Its hard enough sometimes convincing yourself that you want to spend time with your own blood relatives, so how presumptuous is it to assume that your spouse will be 100% enthusiastic about spending their freetime listening to the enieme debate about what year Uncle Jacques installed the new pool cover.

I would adore it if B took Ella for the weekend to go to the country and left me here to potter around. Surely, he owes me a free weekend or two. Of course he misses us when we go back to the States, but at the same time, he is free to live like a batchelor for a few weeks, to take over the house and indulge his every whim while I am solo-parenting and fighting with my sisters over who finished off the toothpaste. Doesn't seem fair.

the craving du jour

Too hot to go outside right now, so what better way to waste some time in the house than re-creating that great sandwich from last night (besides, I still had half a loaf of sliced brioche and I didn't want it to go to waste.)
Layer one: tuna salade with a nice big handful of flat parsley, layer two: cucumbers and mint in creme fraiche, layer three: boiled egg with sliced capers and a sprinkle of cayenne pepper. Just as good as I remembered...

I really am going to miss my little sidekick next year when she's in school because she's finally gotten to the stage where she is slightly useful to have around. For example, on our way to the flower shop, she told me that we ought to buy des fleurs jaunes! (emphasis all hers). I would never choose yellow flowers, just one of those things. Its funny how we do that- have these preconceived ideas about ourselves like 'I don't like yellow flowers' or 'I like jazz music' or 'I don't eat oranges' and we are utterly convinced about the truthfullness of the statement. Then, for example, your 3-year-old insists on buying a yellow bouquet and you realize, 'Oh, actually, thats gorgeous! I guess that I do like yellow flowers.' You realize that you can't even remember why you were so convinced to the contrary for the last decade. Imagine, if you can be that wrong about yourself, how badly we must be about judging things happening outside our own head.

I have been horribly lazy over the last 24 hours or so. It started with a snafu yesterday morning involvoing my yoga class- I went to the wrong gym and so rather than work out all morning, I ended up going to BHV and flipping though wallpaper books. Not a complete waste of time, since we have to repaper the hall, but it started a bad trend. After dropping Ella at daycare, I came home, got myself a nice cold drink and spent the afternoon on the balcony reading a novel. The entire afternoon, accomplishing absolutely nothing, which somehow bothered me more than the days when I spent the same amount of time napping. For dinner, I just carried on with the theme already established and fed Ella a tuna fish sandwich. This child has never actually eaten a sandwich for a meal, since dinner is more likely to be poached salmon and steamed broccoli, so I was astounded that it even worked. That tuna fish looked great, though, so I had to try it and after downing a triple decker tuna fish/cucumber mint salad/egg salad sandwich my stomach was too full to even consider dashing off to the 8 pm yoga class that I had thought about doing. See what I mean- yesterday was completely void of accomplishments. I guess sometimes a day of doing nothing actually accomplishes something.

Of course I have to think that the gods were punishing me a little bit for all my laziness- no less than three times, I stood up while out on the balcany and smashed my head into the volet that B had helpfully put down into a 'sun shade' position, ie slightly at an angle. I cannot remember that its there, suddely jump up to grab something from the house, and BANG! I crack my head on the edge. Luckily, everytime so far I've managed to hit myself at a point behind my hairline so the lumps are only visible when I get out of the shower; Lucky for B, or I am sure the neighbors would be whispering about our domestic violence problems.

And since its a holiday today, Ella doesn't have school and she has been swanning around the house all morning it her pyjamas. Every time I make noises about it being time to get dressed, she switches on her 'sick face' and tells me that she has a full tum-tum. She's pretty clever, that one- she has realized that a dodgy stomach is impossible to verify and that it puts the fear of god in me (I'm sure that after our little experience in the back of our car last week when all three adults were in full panic mode at the idea of her vomiting) allows you a perfect excuse for laying on the sofa and watching cartoons or being read to. So I got out the camera and asked for her to make a sick face- do I have a chance against this kid? Look at how pathetic she looks. I put my chances at small to none.

new summer sandals

I stopped by the K. Jacques St Tropez store on rue Pavée this afternoon on my way home from the park and bought myself a pair of this summer's must have item- gladiator sandals. I know, I know. The really cool version as the strap around the ankle but I thought it made my leg look too short so I went for last year's version. The place is tiny and was absolutely solid with people. I'm serious when I tell you that there was maybe 3 m² of floor space for 9 clients and 3 shopgirls. I had to try mine on while leaning up against the mirror and Ella had to stay outside on the sidewalk since she was in the stroller, so don't plan on sitting around trying to make up your mind. You spot what you want (generally on somebody else's foot), grab a shopgirl, shout out your size, try it on, pay, and get out. I did manage to talk to the manager for a minute and found out that in the fall, its possible to send your sandals in to be repaired. I bought a pair last year that needs a small repair but she said that the atelier is sooooo busy all summer that there is no way to get it done before September. Oh well. The bad news is that they are already selling out of sizes and there are even a few hot models that are completely sold out for the season. Hurry now before we have another sunny weekend and the desperate fashionistas of the Marais clean them out.

PS. What do you think of that nail polish? On desperate rainy afternoon last week, Ella and I wandered through the make-up section at Monoprix trying on sparkly eye shadow and nailpolish. I was thinking of buying something a little more, oh, I don't know, grown-up but Ella would have none of it. She saw this color, very appropriately named "Sweety", and there was no changing her mind. We then spent the rest of the afternoon doing pedicures. She is absolutely thrilled with her painted toe nails and will tell anyone who will listen that "Dey match Mommy's!" So sweet but I do wonder after all this Miley Cyrus ruckus if I shouldn't be a little more vigilant about the line between little girl stuff and mommy stuff. I mean, there is no going back so once I let her paint her nails, I always have to let her do it. There is a lot of stuff that is cute/funny when she is three that will be seriously disturbing when she is 11. I can't think of many things worse than her growing up into one of those 13 year-old Lolitas I see hanging out in front of the lycee, painted and trussed up in the latest thing from H&M, like an extremely stylish hooker. Besides, knowing my daughter, she won't be wanting any clothes from H&M, she'll be dragging me into Marc Jacobs and Chloe.

Chocolate Cupcakes with Vanilla Bean Cream Cheese Frosting

I've decided that there is no point in trying out all these different cupcake recipes if I'm not going to keep notes on which ones I like best so I am going to start a new category on the blog to store the recipes for future reference. I've got a vague plan in my head about turning the empty shop down the street into an American Cupcake Bakery but I'm not entirely sure that I want to spend my days in an apron. I am the furthest thing from an academic snob, but I have a nagging suspicion that I would be much happier in a job in which I actually make use of my Masters in Economics.(Of course, if instead of a single cupcake shop, I make plans for a Cupcake Empire, it seems much more enticing). All the same, plans sort of swirl around in my head and in the meantime, my entourage is being assaulted on a weekly basis with a new test batch of cupcakes, providing me with free market research for my imaginary menu.

Today's cupcake, Chocolate Cupcakes with Vanilla Bean Cream Cheese Frosting, was a solid winner. I actually made them yesterday afternoon and they were much better after having spent the night in the wine refrigerator (maybe this is going to be my secret ingredient? essence of cork?) Just as a side note, that wine cave has proven to be very useful- for holding bottled water and now for chilling cupcakes- but is only barely used for its actual purpose, ie storing wine. Basically, its just an extra mini fridge. Anyways, the chocolate cake was fantastic with a really fluffy light crumb and a gorgeous, almost brownie-like texture on the top. For the frosting, I bought every cream cheese type thing that they had in my grocery store, figuring that I wanted to find a good replacement once and for all; my last batch of frosting was made with mascorpone and I didn't like how runny it was. Kiri and St Moret don't cut it, in my book, as they are far too wet for a frosting. I finally 'craked the code.' I would go so far as to say that Saint Florentin cheese is EXACTLY the same thing as Philadelphia Cream Cheese. Seriously, for the Americans in Paris, this is powerful information. You no longer have to traipse over to one of the American epiceries and pay 7 euro for a pack of imported stuff. I found mine for something like 1.50 euro at the Monoprix. I see a wonderful summer of cream cheese taco dip ahead of us...














The cupcake recipe I used was from the Cupcake Blog, adapted to my kitchen.

Old-Fashioned Chocolate Cupcakes
4 regular cupcakes + 15 mini cupcakes
210° C oven (I had mine on convection to bake them faster)


1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, room temp
1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar
1 large egg, room temp
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons cake flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup high quality unsweetened cocoa powder like Van Houten
1/4 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1. Beat butter until softened. Add sugar and beat until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes.
2 Add egg and beat until well combined.
3. Measure the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cocoa powder into a small sized bowl and whisk to combine.
4. Measure out the milk and vanilla and stir to combine
5. Add about a third of the dry ingredients to the butter/sugar and beat to combine. Add about a half of the milk/vanilla and beat to combine. Continue adding, alternating between dry and wet and finishing with the dry.
6. Scoop batter into cupcake cups about 2/3’s full. Bake full size cupcakes for about 20 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean. Mini cupcakes only need 9 minutes. Please note that I used silicone pans and a metal pan would speed up baking time.

As you can see, I filled my cups too full and they collapsed a bit in the center once they cooled. I was using silicone muffin pans so I wasn't able to tap it against the counter to get a good idea how full they were. I think that with this recipe its better to err on the side of caution and underfill rather than overfill.




















Vanilla Bean Cream Cheese Frosting

1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
4 oz St Florentin cream cheese
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 vanilla bean, seeds scraped out
2-3 cups powdered sugar

1. Using an electric mixer, beat the butter at medium speed until creamy.
2. Add the cream cheese and beat until combined.
3. Add the vanilla extract, vanilla seeds, and 2 cups of powdered sugar and beat at low speed, occasionally stopping to scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl, until light and fluffy. Add more powdered sugar to arrive at the consistency and sweetness you like.

Pourpîer

Anybody know what this is in English? I found it at the vegetable stand and it was so funny looking that I had to buy it. Basically you eat it as salad, I guess. The flavor was fresh and lettuce-y, nothing special really but it did have a nice crunch. B thought it looked like lilypads.

Sunday on the balcony

I think that today I definitely had the best brunch in Paris. It was so lovely that I almost don't want to say where I went- seeing as how my traffic is still pretty low, I guess that I can risk it. On Thursday, when B had off, we wandered over to the Flore en Ile on Ile St Louis for an ice cream and when I was flipping through the menu, I saw that they had a proper brunch menu. It sounded good, plus its only a five minute walk from our church so I made a mental note to try it out some day. When I saw how gorgeous it was out this morning, I knew that we had to find a nice terrasse for lunch and luckily I remembered the Flore en Ile. It was perfect, a terrasse without much car traffic going by, a really nice brunch menu (I had a perfect cheese omelette, and I am super fussy about my eggs so thats really saying something), a view of Notre Dame and the river, and best of all, no trendy young things hogging up all the nice tables for hours; it was probably 60% old people from the neighborhood and 40 % tourists. The price wasn't bad either at 21 euros as the table was groaning under all the food they brought out- there was even freshly squeezed orange juice.

After all the food, we definitely need to a bit of exercise so we walked over to the Marché aux Fleurs to get some new plants for the balcony. We probabl had a better winter than most years- I lost the same three lavendar plants that I loose every year. For some reason (too much sun? too much wind) one side of my planter is jinxed and those plants never make it for more than 6 months. So we picked up a few pots of lavender officinalis , the only variety that seems to like our balcony. I decided that i was sick of white geraniums and, besides, our plants were looking a bit tired after 5 years. I watch gardening shows and look through Met Home and tell myself that I will do something cool next time I buy plants for the balcony- lots of grasses. Maybe giant yucca plants in inox pots. Sculptured pines? So what did I buy? Bright pink geraniums. What can I say? I'm just country, I guess.

When we got home, we put Ella down for a nap and B and I dug into the massive job of cleaning out all the dead leaves, pruning, trimming. We decided that a lot of the plants needed to be repotted with fresh dirt so that required an extra trip out for extra potting soil. And then there was all the clean up. Anyways, we worked hard and when it was all done, I popped open a bottle of nice cold pink champagne and we sat down to enjoy our work. Every year we say that we have to simplify things because the watering alone probably takes up an hour or two a week. Then plants are always dying and needing to be replaced. We have to arrange for someone to take care of things when we go on holiday. Its hard work. But it is so nice on a hot summer day to collapse into one of the chairs and suck in that cool green air. Its amazing how much difference it makes to have the plants. And I suppose I really am a country girl. It might just be a poor substitute for a garden, but it gets me through until I can get back to WI and the real thing.

BBQ Pork Sandwich

I'm back on the Bikram Yoga bandwagon but its killing me. Contrary to their claims that a class will totally energize you, I come home from class and take a two hour nap. This explains why I haven't had any time for blogging- I leave the house 30 minutes before class, I do a 90 minute class, I slump against a wall in the locker room and drink water for 20 minutes, take 20 minutes to shower and dress, and another 30 minutes to get home, plus the 2 hour nap, and basically that is my entire afternoon. Its hard now, but I know that when I get my Turkey vacation photos back, I'll be very very happy to have made the effort.

I thought that maybe the diet was the problem and maybe I just needed more food in order to survive the classes intact so last night I decided to cave and just cook the meal I was craving rather than sticking to the usual rabbit food. Problem was, I didn't have a recipe for what I was craving. Somehow, I had gotten it in my head that the best thing in the world would be a barbequed pulled-pork sandwich. I don't even remember when I might have eaten one of these, but there was no fighting the cravings. I NEEDED one.

So this, my internet friends, is the recipe that I came up with. I decided that I needed to write it down in as many places as possible because it turned out so gloriously perfectly scrumptious that I would sooner kill myself than face a future where there was no possibility of eating one of these sandwiches again. They were really truly that good.

BBQ Pork Sandwich

500-600 gram pork roast
2 onions, sliced
1 red pepper, sliced
2 tbsp molasses
1 tsp garlic
salt and pepper
1/2 cup vinegar

SAUCE:
1 cup ketchup
1 tbsp mustard
1 tbsp molasses
1 tbsp worschester sauce
2 tbsp sweet chili sauce

Heat oven to 200 C on convection. Put sliced onions and pepper in the bottom of a heavy casserole dish. Take roast and sprinkle thoroughly with salt and pepper. Place in the dish on top of onions and pepper. Spoon the molasses over the meat and sprinkle the garlic (I actually used garlic powder since it was easier) over the top. Rub into the meat and over the sides. Put the lid on the pot and roast in the oven for atleast 2 hours, or until the meat is falling apart. (If you just came from yoga, this would be an excellent time for a nap!) When the meat is thoroughly cooked, remove the pot from the oven and put the roast on a cutting board. Immediately dump the vinegar in the pan to deglaze the carmelized bits on the bottom. Using two forks pull the pork into small pieces and return to pot.

In a bowl, mix all the ingredients for the sauce together. Taste and adjust the seasoning until it is spicy enough for you. Pour the sauce over the meat and stir everything together. At this point, you can immediately eat the meat because it smells so good that you cannot even wait for your husband to get home from work before tearing into it, or you can return the entire pot to a warm oven to cook the sauce a bit and blend the flavors.

I bought little brioche buns that look like hamburger buns for this recipe but they were a bit too sweet for my taste. There is something too weird about eating this on baguette although B did it and said it tasted great to him. Maybe on pain au lait? I need to experiment a bit more. I think it would be the most perfect picnic food since it doesn't have to be warm to taste good. And it would be a good way to cement friendships- if I served this at a party, people would be swearing their undying fidelity for the chance to eat one of these awesome sandwiches again. And the best part of this recipe is that it is so easy- I probably spent about 10 minutes total in the kitchen working on this. I know, I'm not quite the Pioneer Woman yet, but I'm getting there.

Elton John was right- 'sorry' IS the hardest word

So, its been a bit tense around the house here the last day or so. B and I got in a big fight; it started out as a teeny tiny fight but he's gotten me more irritated as time passes so I am curious as to how this is going to end. I suppose its got to get sorted out tonight since we are going out alone together and while it is easy enough to not talk while in the house, it might be more difficult to do while sitting alone at a restaurant for an hour. I don't care how hard it is, I am not saying I am sorry and thats what he is waiting for. He can go µ%?/ù himself because its not happening. He saw something on TV the other night and made a bad joke that made me a bit mad. As much as B likes going to Wisconsin, he's always making comments, as if everyone there is so backward and ignorant that its a wonder that they can get their shoes on the right feet. So I said that I really didn't think it was funny when he said everyone there was so stupid because 'those people' are also my family and friends and, actually, me. So he could he stop it please? He said it was even more stupid for me to get mad about something like that since it was just a joke.

Now, just as a side note, I think this is the lamest excuse possible. I've heard all kinds of people use this excuse to say all kinds of insulting things. But it was a joke! Uhm, its not a joke if no one laughs. I'll give some lee way concerning intention. If someone insults me knowingly its clearly not the same thing as accidentally making a comment that I don't appreciate. But 'It was a joke!' is not like some kind of 'Get out of jail free' card.

So anyways, he insults me, I tell him I don't appreciate those kind of jokes, and then HE stomps off to the bedroom and pouts because he says that I was being unreasonable and hyper-sensitive. He won't talk to me until I apologize. I have to admit, this left me a bit speechless. He gets to insult me and also gets the apology? Up til this point, I was irritated by his stupid joke, but not mad. When he insinuated that he was the victim is when I saw red.

I don't think its necessarily a French thing (although I blame all his faults on his Frenchness), but I don't think that this is a culture that accepts responsibility very well. If B were a case study, I would say that Frenchmen tend to ignore problems as long as possible, get excessively angry and rage aimlessly and loudly about the problem once they do have to acknowledge it, and then give long convuluted excuses as to why nothing can be done to solve the problem. However, stepping up and just saying, "My fault; sorry about that. Is there anything I can do to fix it?" is pretty much the last thing that would come out of his mouth.

Generally when we argue, I have to force him to talk about it. And when he grudgingly admits to some part of the blame, he looks down and fidgets, which is my sign to get exasperated and tell him, "Then the nice thing to do would be to say your sorry" (Since I already started the conversation by apologizing for what I did.) And then its over. Why is it such a big deal to say "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."? I know its stupid to drag out a fight over who is going to say sorry first. Maybe I'm still mad enough that I don't mind not speaking to him for a few days. i guess we could always just see a film tonight, then we wouldn't have to talk at all.

PS Am I beyond hope if I admit to actually LOVING the song "Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word", as sung by the boys band Blue? I know it is chees-a-rific but I can't help myself. Oooo- I just put it on and Ella is totally grooving to it. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.

Party time with Ella

On Tuesday I had a message from a friend that her application to the UN mission to Sudan had finally been approved and she was flying out of Paris on Friday morning. Were we free on Wednesday night for a going away party?

I knew that Anna, our new babysitter, was interested in working for some sort of intergovernmental organization when she graduated from uni so I thought she might like to meet my friend and some of the other people that might be at the party. I thought up this really awesome plan- Anna and Ella could come with us to the party and when Ella got tired, the two of them could take a taxi home, leaving B and I to stay up as late as we pleased.

Well, it seemed to be a very good omen when Ella laid down for a late nap and stayed in bed til 7 pm. I dashed around getting things ready and when B came home from work (late) I told him to hurry since we still had to pick up Anna. He dragged his feet and didn't help me at all getting stuff together so it was no wonder that I forgot the wine for the party on the kitchen counter. When we got in the car, he immediately started to moan about how awful traffic was- traffic in the direction of the peripherique was at a standstill in front of our building which was a very bad sign, so we decided to go through Paris instead. And then, finally, it came out. He did not like my plan one little bit; in fact, it was really a stupid plan and, since passive-aggressive wasn't having any affect on me, he had to just say it outloud. I pointed out that it was too late now, nothing to do but deal with it.

Well, he shifted his irritation to the task of picking up Anna. Since she lives at Cité Université and the boulevard that passed in front was impossible to park on and turn around on, we had no idea where to pick her up. We had her on the phone and were shouting instructions at each other but it was complete chaos and finally we found a place to stop because Ella had started to make noises about her tum-tum being full- translation: she was going to vomit. I got her out of the car while waiting for Anna to walk to where we were parked and the cool evening air seemed to settle Ella's stomach. I had Anna get in the front seat so I could sit next Ella in the back and we were off. Unfortunately, we were on a one-way street in the wrong direction, which only served to fire-up B's irritation again. He said suddenly that he was changing his mind and going to take the peripherique and swung the car sharply to the right. Unfortunately, "sharp right" was not the exit to the peripherique, but the exit for Bordeaux.

So there we were, suddenly zipping along the autoroute at 110 km/hr to a place we definitely did not want to go to with absolutely no way of turning off. We were driving and driving and frantically searching for any sign of an off ramp when Ella started cupping her hands in front of her mouth and shouting, "Full tum-tum! Full tum-tum!" I grabbed a giant plastic tote-bag out of the backseat pocket (thank god that Carrefour doesn't give out plastic sacks anymore or I would have had to hand ella my Fendi bag... who am I kidding. She would have had to puke on the floor of the car if that plastic sack hadn't been there.) and held it under her chin. She proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach (two string cheeses and a sippy cup of apple juice) into the bag, once again puking like a champ and neither getting any on her clothes or crying afterwards. I've only seen frat boys with technique like her.

Meanwhile, B had finally spotted an exit ramp. He immediately took it- and we found ourselves quite literally stuck in the middle of Rungis. In a way, it was a bit cool because you always hear about Rungis, but I had never been and it is quite impressive (if giant parking lots and warehouses are your thing). ALso, it is totally confusing and clearly for people in the know as there were no signs to explain where we were or how we could get out. After looping around aimlessly for about 5 minutes, we found our way onto something ressembling normal streets and after I spotted a bus in the distance, we wisely followed it until we could find a sign indicating which direction to Paris.

So only an hour and a half after leaving our house, we arrived in the 15th at my friend's house, where, quite naturally, there were no parking spaces available and after dropping us off in front of the building, B was forced to circle around for 20 minutes more before finding a parking place. The evenings excitement was finally getting to me, and I was bummed about having left the wine at home because by this point I was more than ready for a nice stiff drink or 9. The rest of the evening actually went really well, the party was great and Ella was in such good spirits that she just played until midnight when we decided to go home all together.

And before turning off the lights, I rolled over and said to B, "Ok, maybe you were right about it being a bad idea taking Ella with us to the party..."

I'm baffled

I'm baffled as to why otherwise sane women that I know would choose to do without a cleaning lady when they have the means to pay for one. Honestly, three hours a week only costs something like 30 euro. For a measly 30 euro, who would choose to clean their toilets, scrub the floor, change the bedsheets, and iron their husband's shirts themselves? This isn't about any person in particular, its just sort of a general befuddlement that I have had for awhile now. Granted, some people might wonder why I need to have a cleaner for 9 hours a week (3 hours Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), when I live in a shoe box and don't work outside the home (so one could argue that I have nothing else to do with my time but clean and iron). Fair enough- three times a week is maybe a bit excessive but I've gotten used to things being really orderly so now it would be impossible to scale back . Besides, I feel like there are a million other things to do with my time besides clean. How unimaginative must you be to not be able to find better things to do than clean? Hmm. Very curious.

Of course, today for the first time ever, I had a babysitter come to take care of Ella so I could do something for myself on a Saturday afternoon. Since B always works Saturdays, its really my least favorite day of the week. All my friends are busy doing family stuff with their husband. Their are lovey dovey couples everywhere you look. The shops are too full of working people frantically trying to cram a weeks worth of errands into one afternoon. I generally end up staying home or venturing no further than the park on the corner. So this was very a very exciting development, I had all kinds of suggestions for things for the two of them to do to be sure that I would be free of Ella for the entire afternooon, and how did I end up spending my three free hours? I actually went to the grocery store to do a massive shop and then I sat home to wait for the delivery. I know, I know- what was that about lacking imagination? But what do you do when there is not a scrap of food left in the house and the shops are closed all day Sunday?

Actually, there was techinically enough food in the house to get us through til Monday but the problem is that I am on this crazy diet and unless I have all the allowed foods in stock, I tend to go a bit crazy and tear into the old Easter candy. Is it any wonder that I have only lost 3 pounds in 3 weeks despite being Miserable and feeling completely Deprived? I'm the worst dieter ever. I finally decided that even though I was weak with hunger I had to start including some serious exercise into my day otherwise this would be the Diet That Never Ends. At this point, I would be happy to lock myself in a sauna until I sweated off 4 more pounds in water weight just to see the magic number on the scale so I can stop dieting, for pete's sake. How desperate am I to just bloody loose a few more pound? So desperate that I very nearly bought a package of dodgy 'diet pills' at the parapharmacy yesterday. As if that would work, right. I was kind of hoping that there would be some sort of placebo affect, but then I realized that I didn't have enough cash and I couldn't bear having B see the charge on my card, forcing me to own up to my craziness. I could be crazy, just so long as there was no paper trail, I guess. Really, its the psychology of dieting that kills me. I could happily eat yogurt for breakfast, plain vegetable soup for lunch, and poached chicken with asparagus for dinner, washed down with a pot or two of green tea but serve me the same thing and call it a diet, suddenly I am dying of hunger and fighting with ella over the old M&M's we find in the bottom of my purse. Clearly, I don't need a trainer so much as a psychologist...

Anyways, I am going to have to fall off the wagon tonight since B made dinner reservations for us at Atelier du Maitre Albert. I love that place, although I think the the Venn diagram of traditional french brassierie cuisine and low-fat, no-carb eating would show zero overlap. Its going to be a long Sunday, if I am going to have to do penance by surviving on nothing but vegetable potage and green tea.

Another gorgeous day in Paris; I am out on the balcony right now watching the bateau mouche cruise up and down the river. Every single one of them is packed to the gills with tourists, but I can understand that because the boat tour of Paris is one my top recommendations to visiting friends. Everyone is in short sleeves and sunglasses. Ooooh- a bride and the wedding party just wandered past! I want to get married again and have the party on a boat! The ladies all look so pretty in their hats and summer dresses and the men look so hot in their suits and sunglasses. Hmm, for all my complaining about this small apartment and grimey grey irritating Paris, it can be really wonderful with Paris throwing these perfect Hollywood moments at me, when I least expect it.

Its so beautiful here on the balcony, once all the leaves fill out the trees- its like sitting on a fluffy green cloud. I'm thinking that I might just sneak a little glass of rose champagne from the bottle in the fridge because a sunny lazy Saturday afternoon like this one deserves to be celebrated a little. Ooops- spoke to soon. Ella just came to sit by me with her new drum set, all the better to admire her aural assault.

Spring is here

I hope I'm not jinxing anything by saying it outloud. Today is absolutely 100% gorgeous, with a blue sky and a big sun and all of the terrasses are full and so instead of getting my errands done this afternoon, I went shopping for summer clothes. I couldn't find anything for myself so I came home loaded down with bags of clothes for Ella, which makes me mad; its one of those mom things that I said I would never do. On the positive side, I started packing her summer clothes for the Turkey vacation and I think with this last shopping trip I can call it a day. The bag will be full and it should be enough to get her through two weeks. I can take that off my To-do list.

I wandered through the new lingerie department at BHV today on my way through the shop and noticed something that I had seen this past weekend while on a lingerie spree. You see older women and middle aged women with no make-up, frumpy clothes, and hair sticking up in every direction ever so carefully choosing the laciest, sexiest lingerie you can imagine. I love this idea that sexy lingerie is such a basic in the Frenchwoman's wardrobe that even when she is completely indifferent to more public aspects of her appearance, she never just throws in the towel and buys plain cotton briefs. I think that this is almost the opposite of American women.

I have a half hour before I need to go get Ella from daycare so I need to quickly put in my pilates DVD and squeeze in a workout. I went out with B and some friends of ours last night to Casa San Pablo on rue Sevigné and totally blew my diet. In all fairness, I had been trying to get a table at this restaurant for probably a year and since I finally managed to call for a reservation far enough in advance to be successful, I decided that I couldn't waste the opportunity by sticking to dried ham and mineral water all night. BORING. It was so worth it- the food is great and its cheap. We got three tapas menus for 16 euros each (12 plates in total) and it was more than we could finish. I would recommend this place but it only has like 10 tables and I am hoping I might manage to get another some day. So don't go, just admire from a distance.

sorry about the long break

Lent snuck up on me this year and for several reasons, I decided that I needed to have my Lenten efforts be directed towards taking a break from the computer. I only allowed myself a half hour a day on the computer (including emailing), no blogs, no games. I think it was really good for me. In any case, it needed to be done just so that I could prove to myself that I can live with out the internet. I had started to wonder if it was even possible anymore.

I wish I could say that I got tons done in the free time that I gained, but actually, I didn't launch myself into any particular project. Stuff happened, of course, but you would think that all that extra time would have allowed me to end third world hunger or carve a replica of Mount Rushmore, or I don't know, find a job but it just didn't happen.

God- what did I do with my time?!? I know I thought that I was busy so let me bullet point, for maximum effect:

-The first big event, and what contributed to my blogging hiatus, was The Haircut That Nearly Destroyed My Will To Live. Last year in November I let my regular haircutter give me a radically shorter cut. It was cute but I didn't think it was perfect so when I got a recommendation for a really awesome new place in the 6th, I thought I would try it. It was more expensive than what I normally pay, but I figured that short haircuts are harder and it would be worth it. So I made an appointment for a cut and a color. I ended up showing up about 15 minutes late because I got lost getting there. I guess that they were a bit irritated because of that and didn't start on me for another 20 minutes. I pointed out more than once that I absolutely had to leave at 5 to get my daughter from daycare and they said no problem. Except it ended up being a huge problem. The guy rushed through my cut and when I got home I was horrified. It wasn't even the same length on both sides of my head. It seriously looked like the cut I gave my Malibu Barbie with a pair of cuticle scissors back when I was 8. All lumpy and sticky-uppy and weird. Maybe 'short bus' is the adjective I'm looking for? Anyways, I called back and was like 'Dude, you have got to fix this.' No problem he said, come in right away. And clearly I belong on the short bus, because I went back and let him cut my hair a second time. All that happened is that I had a different terrible haircut, only this time I had almost no hair left on my head so there was no fixing it. I think I can honestly say that this was the worst haircut I had ever had- and ironically, it was also the most expensive. I wore alot of hats for the next couple weeks (thank god for the miserably cold spring we had here in Paris) and then I crawled back on my knees to my regular guy, who fixed with his wonderfully talented hands. It was still horribly short but atleast I no longer look like an escapee from Cell Block 8. I'm due for another haircut next week, so I think I can officially put this horrible horrible experience behind me. But remember the morale of the story- never cheat on your hairdresser or you will be walking around for two months with the folical equivalent of the Scarlet Letter.

-Celebrated Ella's 3rd birthday. Oh yeah, that was pretty big. Will definitely do a photo post because it was so awesome and a very lovely friend of mine brought her photographer husband along to immortalize the event so I have a ton of great photos.

-Celebrated my birthday in serious style. Honestly, I was pretty surprised that it turned out so fabulous because normally I insist on being on vacay when I blow out my candlesand this was the first time in years I spent my B-day in Paris. The beginning of March is such a shitty time to be hanging around Paris. Everything is grey, the sky, the buildings, everyone's clothing, my skin, my attitude- and it just makes you want to put a gun to your head but then also taking time to remind yourself about how old you are getting? Recipe for disaster. This year, somehow, the vacation just didn't happen (now I remember- we kept talking about different plans, I would spend something like 10 or 12 hours organizing things and then just before I booked it all, B would say, "Actually, I really feel like doing that..." This year, the gun was pointing in his direction) and my birthday was probably one of the best. B took off at lunch to come and take care of Ella so I had a nice long bath and then skipped off to the salon to get pampered, I got dressed up and met my girlfriends at a sexy new Champagne bar that I highly recommend (cucumber/melon champagne cocktail- so nice!), then B came and picked me up to whisk me off to dinner at Les Ombres for a fantastic meal watching the lights twinkle on the Eiffel Tour. Perfection.

-My birthday present was a new painting from our favorite galerie and one of our favorite artists, Pietropoli. If you look on the site for Pietropoli, it is Tableau 2 under work 2007-2008 but I can't link to that screen. I love this painting and the nicest thing is that after the vernissage, we went to dinner with the galerie owner and the artist and I was able to talk to him for ages about the painting we bought and his other work. Of course, we still haven't hung the painting because we don't have any place to put it, but that is just a detail. I'm sure one day we'll be the lucky owners of a house with enough wall space for all this art, so I just have to be patient.

-I spent 5 days in NYC with one of my best best girlfriends and had an awesome time, as I always do. Of course, this girlfriend is so motivated and ambitious that even in her unemployed state, she puts me to shame. She had just gotten back from hiking in the Guatmalan jungle, looking at artifacts and skeletal remains in caves. She keeps her Facebook page totally updated. She was at the gym everyday, and to top it all off, is currently planning on hiking to Mount Everest Base Camp. Hmm. I was feeling pretty good about having cleaned out my closets up until I spent a week with her. Still, so nice to have some time away from B and Ella even though I did end up missing them tons by the end. The highlights of this trip were picking out the tiles for the kitchen when I visited the Ann Sacks shop, buying a beautiful dress at Rebecca Taylor, which was destroyed in its first wash (oops), going nuts in the Jonathan Adler boutique (if only I had brought two suitcases!!), and then missing my flight home... Lucky for me, I have a ton of airmiles and managed to get on a flight the next day but I can tell you that for a few minutes there, it was looking like this was going to be the most expensive weekend in NYC in the history of weekends. Well, as far as my husband was concerned, anyways.

-Before destroying my new dress, I wore it to an amazing party on a yacht moored at quai Henri IV, just a short hop from our apartment. It was the weirdest thing- a girlfriend called me up at around 7 on a Sat evening and asked if I wanted to go to this party with her that same night. I was free and it was close by so I was in, but still, I asked her for some details. Who was giving the party? She didn't really know. Uhm, who invited her? Well, a girlfriend of hers, but it was still really confusing as to how this other girl got the invite. Ooo-kay. Well, then, what was the party for? Should we bring something along? No no, just show up early so we didn't have to do the boat cruise down the Seine. Its not the first time she dragged me along to some dodgy party but I hadn't been out in awhile so I said yes. Well, it was the best party with a live jazz band followed by an awesome DJ. There was open bar/champagne all night long and really really nice nibbly food. Everyone was gorgeous and rich (judging by the clothes anyways). And no one had any idea who was throwing the party. I stayed until nearly 2 and the main table, being guarded by two enormous bouncer/security type guys, was empty the entire time. Rumor had it that it was a party thrown by some Saudi prince. Who knows.

-I went back to the States suddenly because my grandfather died. Maybe I'll write more about that later but for now, I'll just say that it was fantastic to be able to go back for everything and in the end Ella and I had a really nice little holiday with my family. Even managed to get my mom's mountain of old photos sorted out. The task of putting them into albums is not going to be done for years, I would imagine, but even getting this far feels like a major accomplishment. If you had any idea of the hell I have been going through every year putting together the annual Photo Calendar for my parents, you would know that this will change my life. Or atleast improve the two weeks before Christmas, time I have normally spent rifling through drawers and boxes and old half-filled albums.

-B launched himself into a new home improvement project while I was away and changed our wood floor with a new one. It looks great and it was a huge job for him to clear out our house, all by himself, and then put everything back again, so I really appreciate it. BUT there is still painting and stuff that hasns't been done following the kitchen building work. I am tearing my hair out!!! We have piles of paint cans on the floor in our bedroom. There are boards and a set of shelves piled in the corner of Ella's room. The ladder has to be moved continually from one resting spot to the next. Tools are jammed under tables and in corners. B has a dozen plastic bowls scattered around, holding things like kitchen switch plates, bedroom door knobs, screws that need to be put in some particular place, etc. I tried to be very excited about the new floor but inside I was screaming "When are the ?/§%µ* kitchen renovation project going to end?!!??" I am guessing, possibly, it will happen before 2009 but I wouldn't put money on it.

-And I have just wound up the planning of our big spring vacation which looks like it is gbing to be AMAZING; two weeks in Turkey to celebrate my Dad's 60th birthday. We are in a beautiful little boutique hotel in Istanbul for a few days so we can see the sights before flying down to the Mediterranean coast for a Blue Cruise on a lovely private yacht, followed by a week in a villa in a charming and remote village from which we can visit all the great archealogical sites in the area. Seriously, how awesome is this trip going to be? The planning nearly did my head in, the days and days it took to sort everything out, but I really insist on staying in beautiful places and I don't (can't) spend a fortune. Its always possible to meet those two criteria but naturally all the best places are booked early so I had to google hard to find good stuff and you really have to have no shame re:haggling for the best price. It takes time though. I really ought to start adding a bit on my CV about my talents as a travel agent considering the amount of time and energy I put into planning our holidays.

So there it is, all up to date. Now, that I am over my bloggers' block, hopefully I can get back to regular updating. Once Easter ended, I wanted to start writing but it seemed like there was so much to talk about that I didn't know where to start. I also hired a new babysitter yesterday, someone to come during the day and take Ella for a few hours so that I can go to the gym and get some bigger projects done. This should also give me the time to do a bit of writing. I had been really dragging the last week or so, feeling overwhelmed by everything that I needed to do; I had the feeling that I wasn't getting anything accomplished. Oddly, I've noticed that I get this way nearly every spring- really exasperated with my life and negative about things. Maybe its because the sun is taking too long to arrive? I really can't figure out why, and I can't seem to avoid it either, so hopefully being proactive about things this year will head off the worst of it. Dreaming every night about laying out on the boat in the Turkish sun should do its part as well, to keep my spirits up.

Well, here's to getting back to blogging (and hoping that eventually someone notices...)

A fully functioning kitchen- AT LAST!

What a great day! We finally, after more than a month of building works, once again have the luxury of living in an apartment with a fully functioning kitchen. The plumber came this morning and hooked up the sink. That means no more running to the bathroom every time I need to get Ella a glass of water. No running stuff through the dishwasher three times because there is no place to rinse off food gunk. No more emptying pasta water into a bucket and ending up with half of it on the floor because I am trying to hold the colander in one hand and not scald myself. Oh, and best of all? Maybe my cleaning lady with deign to enter the kitchen once more. Bizarrely, she hasn't touched a thing in the kitchen in the last 4 weeks- not even emptying the dishwasher. I realize that it was, technically, a building site and more or less a lost cause in terms of cleanliness, but still. I was so baffled each time she left the house, only to find that she had left a stack of filthy dishes on the counter and the dishwasher full, that I never managed to quite articulate a request. Hopefully, she won't be too disturbed by the unfinished walls and Wednesday we can get back to normal.

Actually, I'm thinking that I might attack the walls this week anyways; this morning the plasterer came for the last time and since B and I have pretty much decided that the only way to pick out the tile will be by visiting an Ann Sacks showroom, we will probably not have tiles any time soon. I figure I might as well make the walls presentable since I will have to live with it this way for a couple months. Plus, I have my very exciting Tupperware party on Friday morning and so all my mommy friends will be in the kitchen checking it out. I don't want to say I am definitely going to do it, because at this point, I have so much stuff to clean up before we have people over, I might never be ready. On the otherhand, I get slightly lunatic about the house whenever people are coming around and re-painting a room doesn't even scratch the surface of my special kind of crazy.

I am also very anxious to see this picture hung up. I mentioned last fall that we had bought a painting at the vernissage for Charel at the Galerie Felli and this is it. Since it arrived, I've just been shifting it around the house from one corner to the next. I couldn't really figure out where to put. Finally, I think that it will look really great hanging in the kitchen since the lightest color matches the cabinets and stone and there is a greenish tinge in the water (that you can't see very well in this photo) that is picked up by the glass in the upper cabinets. I will still need to get it under glass so that the humidity and grease in the kitchen don't wreck the surface of the painting, which is actually quite fragile, but for now, I just want to see it up. I think that getting up some art will go a long ways towards making me feel like this project is coming together and will be finished one day soon.

Paris addresses for moms

Saturday mornings, there is no laying around the house in our pyjamas. Ella and I are always up bright and early to get her to her dance class. I don't know if I have mentioned here what a great little dance studio I found over in the 5th. Its called the Atoll de Danse (35 rue Galande. for info, call Cleo at 06 26 82 41 45) and its a run by a trio of women. On Saturday morning, they have a class for 2-3 year olds. Calling it "danse class" is probably exaggerating a bit. Its more about movement and music, with a bit of tumbling thrown in. There are only 4 little girls and Ella just adores it; she spends all of Saturday wiggling around the house, repeating the exercises that they did. This week, it was apparently something about "Marchez, marchez, marchcez, saut!" ("Walk walk walk, jump! ad infinitum...) Its a bit expensive but it suits Ella so well, that I don't even worry about the price. If anyone would be looking for a class, I could not recommend this place highly enough.

The only problem with her class is that it lasts one hour and I am always at loose ends, trying to find something to do while I wait for her. Its just far enough from our house that it is silly to come home; all I have time for is a quick coffee and I have to get my coat back on to fetch her. Over in the 5th, there isn't really much to do in the way of shopping, unless I want to buy groceries at the market. I thought I had finally hit on a good plan- I would spend the time getting my nails done! I love having a manicure. When I try to take care of my nails myself, they are always a mess. They are too soft so I can't let them grow long and I can't seem to paint them without smudging atleast three nails in the first ten minutes. I feel a bit embarrassed to have my hands out sometimes when we go somewhere nice, my nails and cuticles are in such bad shape. But its not really enough of a priority that I would go out of my way to schedule a manicure. Thats why this is so perfect.

Except that there are apparently ZERO places in the 5th where you can get your nails done. I spent 45 minutes wandering in circles trying to find a place near to her danse studio where I could get a quick, cheap manicure. I gave up on that idea and would have gone anywhere that even offered the service. Finally, I asked at a pharmacy and they sent me Sephora at 79, Blvd St Germain in the 6th. Its not too expensive at 26 euro and its not too far from the studio, but generally, I prefer to go to small local places than big chains like Sephora. I made an appointment for the next week, since it was nearly time to go pick up Ella, and headed back. Then, when I was about 100 meters from my destination, what do I spy wedged between two giant cafe awnings? Why, a small beauty salon! I had peaked around the corner earlier, but hadn't noticed the window, hidden behind chairs and umbrellas from the cafe on the corner but in fact, it was exactly the type of place I had been looking for. Its called L'institut (88, blvd St Germain) and for 35 euro you can get a thorough manicure with hand treatment. Its a bit more expensive but they were really helpful and said that they were rarely busy that early on a Saturday so I wouldn't even have to make appointments- which, for me, is perfect. Its silly, but I HATE making appointments for things like that. Since I always seem to be running 10 minutes late due to little miss E, I'm already stressed out enough about being late for important appointments. No need to stress out about stupid things like my nails. Now hopefully next week, I'll be reporting on what a wonderful job they did. But then, its kind of hard to file nails badly, right?

Countertops are in!

So the guys just left and our countertops are in! I really think it turned out great- although the color is slightly darker than I thought it would be, not exactly as creamy as expected, but I think that it might just be due to the fact that some of the pieces of stone had less grey in them than the piece that we ended up with. B really likes the color. My fav thing is how thick it is- 7 cm. I also really like the underhung sink, which is enormous. When we went back to the kitchen shop to confirm the plan, we asked for a bigger sink. I don't know why we thought the original one was too small, when I suspect it was the average size. Since we only have one basin, instead of two, like in the old kitchen, its probably for the best. I also have ended up happy with the little trash can thing installed in the countertop. The idea is that you can just brush crumbs, peelings, etc into the bucket instead of trying to carry them to the trash. Ultimately, it probably would have been more useful to have a dishsoap dispenser I suppose. Oh well. B and his gadgets, its impossible to control.

Since the color of the stone is a lot more greige than I expected I am a bit confused now as to what I should do for the tiles/wall color. If the color had been paler, I thought either a really cozy brown color would look good or a very pale cream color. Now, I suspect that either of those choices would make things just too monochromatic and blah. Back to the drawing board, I guess. I've already pulled out my stack of color swatches and its interesting to see that a pinky beige color looks the best with the stone. The next best is definitely a deep, dusty purple color. Of course, neither of these looks phenomonal with the aqua blue glass. Hmmm.

I was just wondering as I looked through the color samples if it wouldn't be a good idea to apply some sort of decal to the front of the glass cabinets. I've seen some really amazing uses of photography printed onto clear sticky paper and applied to plexiglass. If I could do something like that to change the color of the glass, it would be fantastic. I already asked B if we could possible use the plastic tint that you put on windows (to block out light) on the glass and he said he thought it would be a bad idea. I might have to insist on trying it anyways. It would give it the perfect smoky brown color that let the cabinets blend into the background.

Finally, the best way to deal with the monocromatic color scheme might be to add some patterened tiles. I was flipping through the Ann Sacks website and found some glass tile mosaics that might be just the thing for blending the beiges and the aqua blue. What do you think of this or this? I'm starting to realize that there is no way that I will be able to order these tiles over the telephone, however. Clearly, I'm going to have to find a very good reason to fly back to the States for a weekend so I can visit a showroom and make some decisions.

Am I over-reacting?

It makes me absolutely FURIOUS when B goes through my goes through my stuff to see who I've been talking to, writing to, emailing, etc. I got an anonymous call on my mobile the other night and because I was busy getting Ella to bed, I didn't pick up the call, figuring the person would leave a message and I could call them back later. Well, he couldn't stand that. Who was it? Who would be calling from an anonymous number? Why didn't I check the message? Why not right this second? Finally, I called my answering machine and it was a friend in NYC calling from work, since she didn't have my home number with her. End of story, right?

Except it irritates me beyond belief. I couldn't help shouting at him to leave it alone. My phone, my friend, my business! Things had sort of been building up to a giant irritation over the past few days. He heard my phone beep in the morning with a texto, so he picked up my phone and went through all the messages, curious who had sent me a message so early and curious about who I had gotten messages from. He doesn't see any problem doing this. Or anything wrong with reading all my emails when he sits down to use the computerl; he says it shouldn't matter since it is just sitting open on the scree. He'll go through the phone bill to see which number I've been calling the most. I can't have a diary, because if he sees it, he'll take it out when I am not home and read it. He'll even go through the history on Internet Explorer to see which websites I've looked at during the day. Yesterday, when I went to peek at one my favorite 'boutiques' on Ebay, he made me click on my account to see if I've been bidding on anything. How insulting- as if I am five years old and need to be monitored.

I don't feel like I should have to lock up my stuff in my own home in order to have a bit of privacy. It doesn't matter if there is any secret to hide or not, its just that I think that he doesn't have any right to go through my things. Its mine. I hate feeling like I have no personal space. Honestly, when I saw him going through my text messages I was ready to pack my bags and walk out of the house, I was so angry.

His excuse is that he is just curious, since he was a little boy he has been a 'Touche-a-tout' (touch everything). He can't make himself stop. I think, growing up in a big family often living in very tight quarters, I am slightly more sensitive than most about my personal space. I would never read someone's private diary, email, mail, look in their telephone, listen in on a conversation- nothing. I think that curiosity killed the cat and no good can come of poking around in other people's business. Am I the only one?

Over-scheduled

I have got to dig through the mountain of paperwork, old magazines, coloring books, used airline tickets, etc on my desk and find my agenda because for the second week in a row I managed to schedule three meet-ups on the same day. Today I had coffee at my house in the morning (at the time I had scheduled the plasterer to come in, so making the actual coffee proved to be a bit of a challenge...), I had afternoon coffee scheduled with a girlfriend at a place up in the 9th, and normally I am supposed to go out for drinks with a few girlfriends yet tonight, but I think I will have to cancel that because I just spent a very miserable 40 minutes walking home in a cold misty rain and I would like to avoid catching pneumonia, thank you very much.

Basically, every single one of my social engagements for the week were squeezed into a 8 hour period. I am turning into my mother. "I don't need a calendar, I'll just keep it all straight in my head." Well, clearly I can't manage even my meagre list of social events without help. Right now I have a niggling fear that there is something I am supposed to do tomorrow afternoon but I just checked my calendar and there is nothing written down (big surprise.) Hmmm. This is almost worse than forgetting about a rdv because instead of just feeling bad when the person calls to ask where I am, I get to spend the entire day with the looming dread of getting yelled at, just waiting for my phone to ring so I can know the who, when, and where. Ahh, the slow slide into senility. Who know it would start so soon?

Anyways, before I forget (which is likely to be any second now), I should mention this great cafe that I went to this afternoon. Its called The Poussette Cafe and it was the perfect place to go with Ella and another baby for a relaxing afternoon coffee. I rarely go out to meet girlfriends with Ella because I spend the entire time trying to entertain her and keep from bothering the other customers. This cafe is all set up for kids, so there is stuff to play with, nothing really that kids can't touch, a menu that is actually for children and doesn't cost a fortune plus lots of nice things for adults. They have a shop selling lots of really sweet baby clothes and a great line of wall stickers for decorating children's rooms. I loved the place and will definitely be back. Plus, right across the street is a park with a climbing frame so if your kids get fed up with the cafe, you can pop out for a run in the park. This afternoon, my girlfriend and I had the place to ourselves, which I cannot understand. If I had kids and lived in the neighborhood, I think I would be there just about every single day.

The plague descends on our household once more

Good lord- once again Ella came down with a stomach flu and spent the hours between 10:30 last night and 3 am alternating between a coma like sleep and a surprisingly accurate re-enactment of The Exorcist. Poor B will never learn and for the umpteenth time managed to position himself right in the line of fire. How does the man do it? One of these days he will surely realize that it is far more intelligent to go for the bucket first, baby second. He gets it backwards, every single time, and ends up having to stand in front of her, catching vomit in his bare hands, unable to even move for fear of spreading the mess. Great Dad, just no sense of self-preservation. And not only does he not care about getting covered in puke (or atleast, not enough to avoid it), but he spent the night sleeping on the floor next to her bed so that he could be close to her if she got sick again. I tried to get Ella to come sleep in our room but she didn't want to and B volunteered to just stay with her. How sweet was that?

I was nearly convinced that it was the gastro once again but I was thinking about it and I wonder if she didn't get sick from the green grapes that she ate yesterday at playgroup. Can't you get salmonella or something from unwashed fruit and veg? I suppose it doesn't really matter now since she seems to be on the road to recovery but it does make me wonder a bit.

The most disturbing thing wasn't the amount of vomiting that she did, although it was prodigious. She dirtied nearly every single sheet and blanket that I own, and today was a steady round of washing, drying, ironing, and folding. Always fun, but even more so when you are managing on 5 hours of sleep.

The most disturbing thing was not the way the pasta that she had had for dinner turned to paste and stuck to the fabric of her pyjamas and the sheets, requiring a thorough scrub before it could be thrown in the washing machine and thereby working its way under all my nails so that I couldn't even enjoy a relaxing half hour in front of the tele without gagging from the stench of my own hands.

No, the most disturbing thing was the enormous chunks of food that came up. It was quite clear that her last meal consisted of green grapes and tortellini pasta, washed down with a bit of milk because squished into her sheets and piled up at the bottom of her bucket were halved grapes and slightly gnawed tortellini (and large chunks of curdled milk, ugh). Ella apparently eats like a starved wolfhound. It was quite clear that she had barely chewed any of her food, which I hadn't noticed while I was eating with her. I don't know what is more shocking- that she doesn't chew or that she managed to get those enormous chunks of food back up her esophogus?