Summer school

I had my last French course of the spring about 2 weeks ago and I promised by professor that I would keep up with my lessons over summer in order to maintain my level. She said it would be a tragedy to have made so much progress only to immediately loose it. She's right, of course. And I do have very good intentions, having bought not one, not two, but FOUR language workbooks, with CDs included. Only.... well, you know how it works. The first week, I'll be gung-ho and do exercises every day; week 2 something will come up and I'll only do a half hour of exercises. By week 3, I've misplaced the books and only managed to dig them up in time to pack them in my suitcase for the flight home. Ooops.

That is why I was so excited to see this article in the Sunday paper. Technically, its a list of resources for teaching children a foreign language but I think that lots of the websites would be lots of fun for me. Also, I keep it on the down low, but its actually one of my goals to master Italian and I'm slowly slowly chipping away at that. My theory, of course, that slow and steady does the job. Hopefully, extremely slow is even more effective seeing as how this project is being measured in decades... But who knows, maybe if I find the right internet "coach", I'll be inspired and fluent in mere years.

Suck it, Gay Pride. I wanna nap

Ella and I had our usual busy Saturday morning of dance class (for her)/manicure (for me) followed by lunch out (chinese for me, an extra large glass of apple juice for her...), a bit of shopping (no luck for me, school clothes for her), and finally Bertillon (the to-die-for combination of nougat miel and peche for me/the usual chocolate and wild strawberry for her) before going home. Naturally, after all this fun, all we wanted to do is take a nap. Unfortunately, I forgot that today is Gay Pride.

Now the parade does not march directly under our windows, but I'm not sure that it makes a whole lot of difference. The windows are rattling to the pounding beat of techno while the crowds scream out the chorus, not exactly conducive to sleep. And it just goes on and on and on. Despite that, Ella has been in her room, not making a peep, for the last two hours. I managed to drift off for a bit, but nearly fell off the sofa when a particularly loud airhorn interrupted my dreams. I know that I'm being a bit of a crank, but I just can't get into Gay Pride. Every year I go out to watch it for awhile, and every year, I find it completely stupid. I think the French are just not wild enough to make it work, you know? You need some really drunk crazy people dancing up a storm. Hoards of massive drag queens. I personally think that you need to break up the techno with some really kitschy music like The Village People and ABBA. Let me see, what else? Well, I always appreciate parades where they throw candy into the crowds, but I don't know if that would be entirely appropriate at Gay Pride.

Ella just got up and I asked her if she wanted to go and listen to the music for a bit. She looked at me blankly and said, 'What music?' God, this kid is so packed full of B's genetic material, its unbelieveable.

Only three more days til we start holiday, thank god. I need to get out of this place.

Updated: 7:15, ie 4 hours since the noise started, and it is still going strong. Am ready to kill myself.

Despite my declaration that I just needed to 'clear out my life' , I hit the sales pretty hard yesterday. I have to say, that without having much in mind in terms of specifics, I was pretty happy with my haul. I got a few DVF dresses, a gorgeous brown cashmere sweater from Ballantyne that I will wear to death, a few odds and ends, a pair of shoes for Ella. I could not make up my mind about a new purse and now its probably too late now to go back to buy them, but I don't know. I like the Chloe Bay, but I think it might be just too rigid. I think I want something a bit softer. Ferragamo had a really nice big bag with a sort of braided handle that I really liked but even at 40% off they still cost over 700 euro, which I think is a bit silly. I saw a really nice slouchy bag at the Furla stand, but I always think the leather at Furla looks like plastic. So I don't know. I think purses are one of the best things to buy on sale and it hurts me to pay full price, but I haven't had enough time to think about this so maybe buying a new purse now in a rush is a bad idea. Any opinions?

in other news, I have to dash out of here in about 5 minutes because little Miss E has such a packed schedule that we haven't got a moment of rest. This afternoon, we are meeting in the park with some friends who moved to Shanghai a few months ago. When the playdate is done, we are off to her dance class. And maybe after that, I will meet up for a coffee/drink with my sister-in-law and her sister. We are trying to squeeze in a this stuff before going to the States but it might be a bad idea. Its never quite as relaxing to be there as I imagine it to be in my head. If anything, my parents schedule is more frenetic than mine here in Paris. Plus, I don't have a babysitter. So there is no break time and I don't have B to help out with breakfast and bedtime. Lets just hope that being able to run and play outside makes Ella a little bit more self-sufficient.

Provins

Yesterday, we finally had a bit of blue sky in Paris so we decided to tag along with my great aunt, who happens to be visiting Paris this week, and jumped on a train to Provins.

I'll admit straight away that I had never heard of this place. My aunt originally just wanted to know how she might get there and I did a bit of research to see if I really thought it would be worth her while. Once I started reading up about the place on the internet, I was baffled as to why no one I knew in Paris had ever mentioned going there. It is incredibly easy to get to- you just get a trancilian train from Gare de L'Est, paying for a zone 6 metro ticket, and since this particular train only makes about 6 stops, its a pretty uneventful hour and twenty minute ride out to the Provins train station. Once you get off the train, you walk across a flowered cover bridge over a bubbling stream, and wander through the old streets til you get to a magnificent 12th century town which is so well preserved that you practically expect a count to come galloping down the street on his horse.

We visited the underground caverns from the Hotel Dieu (if you decided to go visit, I would recommend travelling with your own flashlight as the visit was almost done in the pitch dark); St Quiriacs Cathedral; Ceasar's Tower (behind Ella in the photo); the Tithe Barn, with great audioguides to explain the history of the place in English; St Jean's Gate and the ramparts; and the Rosarie. The only bad thing about our day is that the SNCF wedsite said that there was a train leaving for Paris at 16:45. We were lazily sitting in the Rosarie gardens under a tree, sipping lemonade while the breeze blew the scent of roses over us, when we suddenly realized the time. We grabbed our bags and ran to the station- which is quite something in this town which is built over a series of pretty steep hills- only to arrive sweaty and exhausted at an empty train station, where we were informed that the next train didn't leave for another hour. Oh well.

Before dashing out of the Rosarie, I managed to find the time to buy some essence of rose that has the most beautiful rose scent I have ever found. It smells incredibly fruity, like raspberries, which is what I like about fresh roses. Generally, I find rose scent to be really cloying and not at all nice. This must be made from the special roses of Provins because it is so original, even though it is marked as simple rose essence. I had scented lining paper in Ella's drawers but it had lost its scent ages ago. Last night I put this essence in a spray bottle, covered the paper with a good layer of water, and this morning when I picked up the dried papers, it smelled like a rose garden. I wish I had bought two bottles so that I could do something similar in my room! I did pick up a bottle of bath salts as well, which is equally nice, but I might be tempted to go back out there just to stock up on rose water products. I think its especially nice because it seems like it is made locally and definitely not a mass-produced product.

The day was so much fun, and actually, if you exclude climbing up and down hills with a 30 pound toddler in a stroller in the scorching heat, it was an easy day out from Paris. I think that it would definitely be worth a return trip next year during their Medieval Festival, something that appears to be a sort of Ren Fair on steroids, with the whole town dressed up in costume. One of the shop owners also told me that they do a really great night tour of the old town on Saturday nights over summer, with giant candles lighting up all the monuments. It must be absolutely beautiful.

I funny side note- as we walked through town, my aunt kept remarking on how wonderful it was to smell bread baking every where we went. She said that French women must be wonderful bakers. I had to point out that they hardly baked at all, since there was a great bakery down the street where bread could be purchased fresh for next to nothing. Well, we figured that there must be an industrial bakery in town to explain the constant yeasty smell in the air. Then, at the end of the day, we happened to pass a tour group who was hearing a lecture about the ethanol factory in Provins. It turns out that this gorgeous smell of fresh bread wasn't bread at all, but the smell of grain ethanol being produced! I almost felt bad translating to my aunt and ruining her 'Frenchy' explanation. Well, I think she was a big enough girl to take it on the chin.

Anyways, we did eventually make it back to Paris. Ella burned up every last ounce of energy that I had in me by turning into some sort of hysterical crazed monkey child on the train. She was climbing on me then hanging on me then wanting to bounce on my leg for a horsey ride. "Want to lay down, mama- no! Look out the window! Let's sing a song! No!!! Only me sing!!! " We spent about 15 minutes playing catch with the scarf I had thrown in the backpack and balled up so that she could use it as a pillow on the train. Of course, after every catch, it had to be re-tied. And re-tied. And re-tied. And although I love my daughter, I thank god that someone else was there to intervene or during minute 16 of this game I would have tied it around her scrawny little neck to just have a bit of peace. It is absolutely astounding how much boundless energy small children have. If mothering is difficult, then being a schoolteacher for this age group is only for veritable saints.

By the time I got home I could barely stand upright. This sort of put a kink in my plans for Fete de la Musique. I had been invited to a party at the Saut du Loup, in the gardens of the Tuileries. Everyone was to be dressed in white, there was live brasilian music til midnight, when a DJ took over, and I was going be able to dance and drink outside under the stars with beautiful people who didn't ask me why there was no more apple juice. I was really looking forward to it. Instead, old lady that i am, I fell asleep as the pathetically early hour of 11:30 with my ear plugs in. When I talked to my aunt the next day, she told me that they were at the Hard Rock Cafe and then wandered around that neighborhood, not getting home til after midnight. Honestly, when a 70-year-old woman has more stamina for partying than you do, its time to do some lifestyle evaluating. Or possibly see a doctor?

Summer vacation

Since we came back from holiday, not only has Paris been decidely shivery, but we have not managed a single playgroup. Now, a three-year-old who has spent two weeks being spoiled with attention by an entire country full of people plus her grandparents does not transition easily back to a schedule of quiet mornings coloring with her mommy and walks in the park. It has been HELL around here and I am feeling like I haven't got an ounce of energy left in me to deal with her for another day. So this afternoon, I took the bull by the horns and decided to fly back to the States in two weeks time.

The downside is that I will have to miss the wedding of a very close friend of mine from uni that it taking place in London the last weekend in July. I was so looking forward to this party because it was a black tie event in the most gorgeous location I have ever seen, but finally I realized that I was having to sit in Paris for 4 weeks for the pleasure of spending over a 1000 euro for this party. Yikes. Its probably better that we just skip the wedding and send an extra nice present as I have a hard time imagining how I would manage to have 1000 euro worth of fun in one night, anywhere.

I cannot wait. Even two weeks seems like an eternity now that I have the plans made. Apparently, Wisconsin has not been washed away entirely by the floods but I have been warned that the mosquitos are out in full force. I don't even care. I don't know what has gotten into me, since I just got back from holiday and should be in a brilliant mood, but I am HATING being in Paris right now. I'm just so bored to tears by my routine. I have three different friends visiting Paris this week and basically have plans to go out every night for the next 6 nights. The sales start next Wednesday and I haven't done the least bit of reconnaissance. I suspect that while its the little things that are bugging me, its the big picture that needs to be shook up. I feel like I've just gotten in a rut and need a change of scenery so I can figure out what to do to fix that.

Ok- just as an example. I'm sitting here looking into the cupboard where I have my purses and it is irritating me beyond reason that I have saved so many stupid bags when I haven't used more than 4 of them over the course of the last 6 months. There must be 15 bags sitting there taking up space. If only the stupid Emmaus shop was closer, I would throw them in a garbage bag and drop them off right now.

Actually, thats the perfect example of my state of mind right now. I just want to clean out all the extraneous junk so I can breathe easier and see whats going on. I want empty closets, not stacks of dusty old junk that I don't use and don't need.

Maybe making plans to shop for more stuff can be taken off my To Do List?

Happy Mothers Day!

For Mothers Day I received a slightly belated gift, but it was something I had been lusting after for ages so all was forgiven. B and Ella bought me a KitchenAid mixer and I have been busy testing out all my recipes. And, incidently, outgrowing all my pants. Well, of course, nothing says 'mother' like cellulite on the hips, right?

So I guess the Cupcake Factory is now open for business? 20 6 year-olds on their way over to your house for a birthday gouter? I'm your girl.

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.