So I go and shoot off my mouth on someone else's blog the other day about how I get along so well with my family and end up in a shouting match with my mom this morning. Just to state this upfront- I do get irritated with my mother quite often but I really try to use it as a learning experience. I know that we are more alike than I care to admit and where we are different, its still more because of her (and my dad) than despite them. So it gives me lots to think about, and ultimately, spending time thinking about it makes me a better parent, I think.
But still. This woman is pushing my buttons.
My mom likes to be in control. Of everyone. And everything. No matter how little she is actually involved in the business at hand, if it involves one of her children, she wants to organize it. Always at the last minute, of course, throwing everyone into a tizzy, but its never too late to get involved. This means, for example, that when my 32 year-old cousin was flying into the airport and either myself or my 45 year-old uncle were available to pick him up, she got on the phone (2000 miles away, while on vacation) with my aunt to sort it out rather than let us do it ourselves. As if we three were somehow incapable of speech. Or rational thought. Or the gumption to pick up a phone. Its infuriating.
So its really no surprise that she did it again this week. My sister who has three children was leaving for 4 days to spend time with a girlfriend. Her husband just got a new job last week so she suddenly had to sort out babysitting for her kids. Naturally, my mother immediately began to make noises about just taking on all three kids for the entire time. Luckily, my sister nixed that idea since my mom is supposed to be resting up for some major surgery in two weeks. Instead, she organized to have our cousin's daughter come over for two days to cover for the time her husband was busy. She asked me if I could watch her middle boy, Mac, for a few hours in the afternoon to give the sitter a break and let Ella have a bit of a playdate, which I readily agreed to. And my mom busily offered to run over, do dinner, put them to bed, have
Mac for a sleepover, and I don't know what all. To be honest, I decided not to listen. I'm so used to her meddling, that I know there is no point in trying to tell her to back off. Besides, at the end of the day, it might be bad for her health but she has to decide if she has the energy for all these extra projects. What was I going to do- tell her not to spend time with her grandkids?
Last night, while stopping by my mom's house on her way out of town, my sister told me that there would be two kids coming to babysit the boys so I didn't need to worry about having Mac over to play with Ella for hours and hours. It would be better for him to be at the house since she would be paying two sitters anyway. Fine with me. It sounded like everything was organized.
Well, this morning, my mom starts packing her bag to go to my grandfather's house, and she tells me that she thinks she will spend the night. I was kind of bummed to have to stay home since it was a gorgeous day, and Ella was begging to go up to the lake, but I had promised to watch Mac for a few hours so it would have to be another day. Then just before walking out the door, she picks up the phone and she asks me if I want Mac to come over right away or if I would be going to play with them at my sister's house. Well, Ella and I weren't even dressed yet (it wasn't 10 yet and we are on vacay, let me remind you), so I was kind of surprised at the rush. I said he could come over. Would I need to feed him lunch then? I thought the babysitters were coming later in the day, but I hadn't listened to closely to my sister the day before. Well, mom says, yeah. Give him lunch but maybe he should stay for dinner as well to help the sitters out. Okay, now I was confused. Was my brother-in-law at home right now? Yes, was the answer. In that case, I asked, since he'll be at work tonight, weren't you going to have Mac spend the night here? Yes, was the answer again. Let me get this straight, I said. You want me to have Mac over now. Feed him lunch. Entertain him all afternoon, although Ella will be in bed and I need a nap today. Feed him dinner. Drag my tired ass through the torturous bedtime routine all by myself with an extra child to take care of. And send him home the next day, after 24 hours of babysitting that no one asked me if I was willing to do and which apparently is not even helping out my sis?
"Its not going to be any extra work for you at all. And anyways, you knew about this plan all along. We talked about it in front of you yesterday. " was my mom's response.
First of all, I heard my mom volunteering to do all sorts of things for the kids over the course of the weekend. From what my sister told me, it was unnecessary, but if my mom wanted to do it, it was her business. But I think she really stepped over the line, volunteering me for a job that was actually a big commitment. I am an adult and my sister is an adult and if she needed this kind of help she needed to speak to me directly. I told my mom that if she volunteered to watch the kids, she was free to do that. But she couldn't volunteer to do a job, decide to leave town instead, and then just pass it off to me without even asking if I was up to it.
She said I was the most selfish person she had ever met.
I told her that she was out of control. I didn't promise anyone I would do that, I wasn't willing to do it, and I wouldn't do it. And she should stop thinking that she had any right to make plans or commitments on my part without speaking to me about it first. I was an adult and perfectly capable of managing my own time and commitments, thank you very much.
Honestly, I am so fed up with her doing this kind of thing. We'll have stuff totally sorted out and then my mom has to get in the middle and start 'improving' our plans. There is always an underdog that she thinks hasn't been able to defend his interests well enough and so she is there to referee and make sure that there is some overly complicated plan in place that she has masterminded that rights all the world's wrongs.
ARRRRRGH.
She was mad as hell when she left the house but I don't care. I was mad as hell as well. I think she stepped way over the line. I think that she needs to be told very very clearly that her 'helpfulness' is often turning into 'meddling' and 'interfering.' I'm not very optimistic about her actually having heard what I said but still. It needed to be said and a few days of tension are well worth it if she starts to realize that she needs to treat her adult children like adults. Even when she is certain that she can handle things a million times better than us.
On top of it all, she was diagnosed with cancer recently and instead of making her stop and take a good look at how she is taking care of herself (which is badly), she is storming ahead, business as usual, taking care of everyone else's stuff. She can't realize that the best way to take care of other people is to make sure that she stays healthy. I think a really a big part of the fight this morning is that I am so angry with her for putting so little emphasis on her own health. She's being totally cavaliere about this diagnosis and acting like its no big deal and nothing we say to her seems to make her realize she is going to end up dead if she doesn't take this seriously. I'm glad that she is optimistic and I don't want to change that. But isn't there some healthy middle ground?
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Summer memories
Finally, Slip n' Slide duty wasn't so bad. The wind picked up so after forcing the kids to do atleast two slides apiece, we let them climb in the hot tub, which was probably more like a warm tub, but it kept them busy for an hour or so. It was funny because there were so many kids squeezed in there, all that they could do was bob up and down, but that was apparently hilarious fun. In the end, all I had to do was sit in a chair, counting heads to make sure no one went under, while I snacked on Chedder Goldfish stolen from my cousin's baby.
It was a nice party, once all the adults arrived. I grew up going to these relaxed summer dinners where around 25-30 people wander in, carrying pasta salads and coolers of drinks. The kitchen is full of women and the yard is full of kids. There is generally somebody in a dusty baseball uniform and the only people guaranteed a chair are over 80. Its not always incredibly well organized (in fact, lack of organization is probably a key ingredient) but it always turns out perfectly, with plenty of food, drinks, and fun. The biggest problem generally involves trying to get your car out of the driveway when you are on your way home but my family solved this problem long ago by developing the understanding that everyone always leaves their keys on dash.
The next day, I was spoiled again with Northern Wisconsin fun by getting dragged out to a little country village, population about 36, for the Sportmen's Club Pancake Breakfast- all you can eat breakfast on picnic tables in the middle of the cornfields followed by a baseball game between two local teams. An afternoon of popcorn and beer in the sun left us all sunburned and exhausted. Ella is finally a real baseball diamond kid- she spent the entire afternoon running around barefoot with a pack of little kids, begging soda and candy off anyone who was sucker enough to fall for her cute little pout. She took off her shoes and lost them, not caring one little bit that she was dusty and sticky from head to toe. Its another one of those times when I looked at her and suddenly had a flashback to my own childhood that nearly knocked me over.
Remembering the feeling of soft, hot dust on my toes, running around in the sun with an ice pop melting in my hands. Its so funny because it feels so close sometimes, like it was only yesterday that I was eight years old and piling in my mom's red station wagon for the ride to the baseball field to watch my dad play ball and hang out with my cousins in the weeds, chasing foul balls. squeezing a warm sticky quarter in my hand, trying to decide what treat I want to get from the concession stand. I don't know if its because we live so far away and I forgot so much stuff that when I am here, it hits me like a bulldozer. Memories from when I was little, things that haven't crossed my mind for years, just flood in. Maybe its because of Ella and seeing her is like falling into some weird wormhole to my past. What I like best is that the momories are not about something big that happened but more of an overwhelming feeling about what it was like to be a little kid playing, a really nice happy, carefree feeling that you honestly don't get to touch very often when you are an adult. There is always something lingering on the sidelines of your mind, some mental 'To do' list. Sunday was a good day.
It was a nice party, once all the adults arrived. I grew up going to these relaxed summer dinners where around 25-30 people wander in, carrying pasta salads and coolers of drinks. The kitchen is full of women and the yard is full of kids. There is generally somebody in a dusty baseball uniform and the only people guaranteed a chair are over 80. Its not always incredibly well organized (in fact, lack of organization is probably a key ingredient) but it always turns out perfectly, with plenty of food, drinks, and fun. The biggest problem generally involves trying to get your car out of the driveway when you are on your way home but my family solved this problem long ago by developing the understanding that everyone always leaves their keys on dash.
The next day, I was spoiled again with Northern Wisconsin fun by getting dragged out to a little country village, population about 36, for the Sportmen's Club Pancake Breakfast- all you can eat breakfast on picnic tables in the middle of the cornfields followed by a baseball game between two local teams. An afternoon of popcorn and beer in the sun left us all sunburned and exhausted. Ella is finally a real baseball diamond kid- she spent the entire afternoon running around barefoot with a pack of little kids, begging soda and candy off anyone who was sucker enough to fall for her cute little pout. She took off her shoes and lost them, not caring one little bit that she was dusty and sticky from head to toe. Its another one of those times when I looked at her and suddenly had a flashback to my own childhood that nearly knocked me over.
Remembering the feeling of soft, hot dust on my toes, running around in the sun with an ice pop melting in my hands. Its so funny because it feels so close sometimes, like it was only yesterday that I was eight years old and piling in my mom's red station wagon for the ride to the baseball field to watch my dad play ball and hang out with my cousins in the weeds, chasing foul balls. squeezing a warm sticky quarter in my hand, trying to decide what treat I want to get from the concession stand. I don't know if its because we live so far away and I forgot so much stuff that when I am here, it hits me like a bulldozer. Memories from when I was little, things that haven't crossed my mind for years, just flood in. Maybe its because of Ella and seeing her is like falling into some weird wormhole to my past. What I like best is that the momories are not about something big that happened but more of an overwhelming feeling about what it was like to be a little kid playing, a really nice happy, carefree feeling that you honestly don't get to touch very often when you are an adult. There is always something lingering on the sidelines of your mind, some mental 'To do' list. Sunday was a good day.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
So now I know that we are definitely in Wisconsin as we had our first Tornodo 'drill' last night and are off to our first baseball game of the summer. Last night, there was a major storm passing through the area and when we heard the sirens go off in town, we decided to finish off our television viewing in the basement rather than strain our ears listening for the sound of a freight train bearing down on the house before grabbing our candles and blankets. The scary thing is when the tornado comes at night and you can't see it- or worse, you're asleep. Its at moments like these that I am grateful for the Weather Channel and those doppler radar images where you can watch the red zone move over your house and off to the East so you know exactly when its alright to head off to bed. All in all, it was kind of a non-event. I suppose the scariest part was moving Ella and praying that she didn't wake up when I took her out of bed.
Today, I said that I would go to a baseball game with my Grandma but I've not lived around these parts for so long that my sense of geography is a bit off. I thought that I had agreed to a 45 minute car ride to see the game when in fact, I've just been told, its more like an hour and a half each way. Yikes. I really don't like baseball enough to justify that much time in the car but its too late to back out now. Anyways, there's a big family party to look forward to afterwards. My dad and his twin brother turned 60 this week so the two families will get together tonight with my Grandma for a big dinner cooked on the grill enjoyed outside in my aunt's beautiful garden. It should be fairly chaotic with the 9 adult children between them + spouses + 9 grandchildren. My mom asked my sister to pick up a bottle or two of wine to bring along, which makes me wonder if she is suffering from a head injury. Two bottles of wine will hardly get us through the first course. My sister and I were on the phone this morning and agreed that she should pick up two cases- just to be on the safe side. Bear in mind, there are going to be 9 children under the age of 10. This is clearly an occasion that calls for large amounts of alcohol.
But then thats what I love best about summer here.
What I like least:
Since I am solo parenting, I am forced to do the bedtime routine myself every night. That wouldn't be too bad, although its difficult at the end of a long day to find the energy to move serenely through the bedtime tantrums. What's really killing me is that Ella has developed an unnatural attachment to one story book, specifically 'Diego's Springtime Fiesta'. I have had to read that stupid book about 5 stupid baby bunnies that run away from their nest atleast once a day for the last week and a half. Its super long, as well. I know that it might be more annoying to read a rhyming baby book but this is already bad enough. I don't think I can handle doing this for another 5 weeks. But Ella is showing no signs of letting up on me, so I am going to need to dig deep into my reserves of parental patience. Seriously, B is going to owe me big time. He's off in Paris, swanning around the silent apartment like a happy batchelor while I tear my hair out from dawn til well after dusk chasing after a crazed three-year-old.
I think I will start researching spa retreats right now. That way, when Ella pulls out that damn book, I can just put my mouth on autopilot and go to my 'happy place'.
Update: I've been placed on Slip 'n Slide duty for the afternoon and therefore won't be trekking to the baseball game. The glee with which the other mothers jumped in the car makes me think that I made the wrong choice...
Today, I said that I would go to a baseball game with my Grandma but I've not lived around these parts for so long that my sense of geography is a bit off. I thought that I had agreed to a 45 minute car ride to see the game when in fact, I've just been told, its more like an hour and a half each way. Yikes. I really don't like baseball enough to justify that much time in the car but its too late to back out now. Anyways, there's a big family party to look forward to afterwards. My dad and his twin brother turned 60 this week so the two families will get together tonight with my Grandma for a big dinner cooked on the grill enjoyed outside in my aunt's beautiful garden. It should be fairly chaotic with the 9 adult children between them + spouses + 9 grandchildren. My mom asked my sister to pick up a bottle or two of wine to bring along, which makes me wonder if she is suffering from a head injury. Two bottles of wine will hardly get us through the first course. My sister and I were on the phone this morning and agreed that she should pick up two cases- just to be on the safe side. Bear in mind, there are going to be 9 children under the age of 10. This is clearly an occasion that calls for large amounts of alcohol.
But then thats what I love best about summer here.
What I like least:
Since I am solo parenting, I am forced to do the bedtime routine myself every night. That wouldn't be too bad, although its difficult at the end of a long day to find the energy to move serenely through the bedtime tantrums. What's really killing me is that Ella has developed an unnatural attachment to one story book, specifically 'Diego's Springtime Fiesta'. I have had to read that stupid book about 5 stupid baby bunnies that run away from their nest atleast once a day for the last week and a half. Its super long, as well. I know that it might be more annoying to read a rhyming baby book but this is already bad enough. I don't think I can handle doing this for another 5 weeks. But Ella is showing no signs of letting up on me, so I am going to need to dig deep into my reserves of parental patience. Seriously, B is going to owe me big time. He's off in Paris, swanning around the silent apartment like a happy batchelor while I tear my hair out from dawn til well after dusk chasing after a crazed three-year-old.
I think I will start researching spa retreats right now. That way, when Ella pulls out that damn book, I can just put my mouth on autopilot and go to my 'happy place'.
Update: I've been placed on Slip 'n Slide duty for the afternoon and therefore won't be trekking to the baseball game. The glee with which the other mothers jumped in the car makes me think that I made the wrong choice...
Friday, July 11, 2008
Summer in Wisconsin
I really thought I had posted a message since we arrived- I guess I dreamed it? Weird. In that message I said that we had a good flight and were given seats together as we checked in at the gate. The plane left an hour and half late but we were off the plane and out of customs a half hour before my ride arrived at the airport (but then, in my 17 years of flying home I've learned to appreciate the baggage claim coffee bar...) Jetlag was once again a non-issue for Ella, which i never stop being grateful for. While waiting at immigration, I saw a woman who reminded me how lucky I am to have Ella who is an excellent traveller and also, how wise I am to have mastered the basics of international travel. This poor woman had 2 kids, one of whom was in a full scale meltdown and rolling around on the floor, but she was blinded by dry contacts and buried under a mountain of carry-on luggage. Clearly, she was not savvy to the Number One Rule of Travel:
1. Never travel with more luggage than you can carry yourself.
And that means counting children when the case warrants. Seriously, who in their right mind would travel with 4 small open tote bags, ie luggage that is impossible to set down without spilling out all over the floor? Here is some unsollicited advice- if you are travelling with children, a backpack is your friend. With any luck, you have a device to strap your non-walking child to your front. Your gear is all on your back. Then you have two free hands and the ability to manage two large wheely bags (checked prior to departure to verify that all wheels are fully functional). Voila- disaster averted, even if you have a screaming child and no luggage carts. Or you are suddenly required during a transfer to check your luggage in a distant terminal accessible only by slow moving walkway (true story). Sure, you can tell yourself that surely some kindly stranger will come along to help but in my experience a nervous breakdown normally finds you first. I will repack my bags three, four times to get to a point where I have reduced my luggage to a manageable amount. If its one thing that parenthood has taught me, its survival techniques. Only the fast and the strong survive.
So, it seemed like as soon as we arrived we were thrown into the thick of things, with all the 4th of July festivities. We got to enjoy my absolute fav bit of Americana- the Winter, WI 4th of July parade. Its the high school marching band, in their ridiculously hot woolen uniforms playing 'Play that Funky Music White Boy'; its the Little League team showing off their league champions trophy; its the Festival Queen in a neon pink polyester dress sitting on a hay wagon doing that silly pageant wave, its little kids dashing into the street to pick up candy thrown from the fire truck and nearly dying of fright when the Chief turns on the horns. I love every bit of it. And, of course, its twice as nice to bump into people I know and didn't expect to see- because its a small town so of course you see a million people you know. I love that I sit down, expecting to eat my sauerkraut covered brat alone at a picnic table, and end up sharing a plate of cheese curds with three of my aunts (and some strange, quiet man that plunked himself down right in the middle of us and we all thought was related to someone else). I love that the band playing Oldies Rock music all afternoon is a bunch of middle-schoolers, one of whom is a Chinese girl who is definitely shorter than her bass guitar is long.
Sadly, after a dinner of taco salade for about three times as many people as there were chairs in the house (another thing that I get weirdly sentimental about), I only managed to stay awake for the little fireworks at the house. The whole extended family, loaded down with bug spray and wool blankets, piled into cars to go see the town fireworks and 'oooh' and 'ahhh' while laying on the baseball field. I volunteered to stay home with the babies who were already asleep. When our neighbors decided to start setting off some major fireworks at 10:30, I jumped out of bed to close the window but, in my haste, failed to notice that there was a painting balanced on the top of the window, holding down a blanket to make it extra dark in the room. The picture came silently shooting down the blanket ramp while I tried to jiggle the window closed, hitting me smack on the bridge of my nose. So there I am in the dark, stiffling my screams so as to not wake the two sleeping children in the room, trying to get myself out from under the blanket while keeping the blood gushing out of my nose from getting all over everything- a bit of trick in the pitch black in a room set up like a obstacle course. I don't think I have ever had a bloody nose so this was quite an introduction. The blood stopped quickly enough but I swear I think that I really broke something. Its a week later and when I wash my face, I get a weird pressure down near my lip and my nose is super cracky if I wiggle the end. Thats not good, right?
So anyways, we have had beautiful gorgeous summer weather every single day. I am even counting the rainy weather because when it did finally rain, it was the most spectacular high-wind lightening storm that woke me in the middle of the night with the all the howling through the trees that was going on. We get woken up every morning by the flocks of birds peep-peep-peeping outside our windows (which is a nice change from being awoken in Paris by the garbage truck, but seriously, birds, can we take it down a notch or two?) When we drove into the driveway to our country house last week, I think Ella thought she had stumbled into a scene from a Disney film. First we had to stop so that a momma deer and her twin spotted bambis could get across the road. Then as we stepped out of the car, two squirrels jumped out of a tree and had some chattery little argument over a pine cone. And as we walked up to the door, a robin sitting on a post, sang us a little song before lazily flying away. Seriously, if a couple of dwarfs came whistling around the corner, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash.
All in all, I am so happy that we bailed out of Paris when we did. This is what summer holidays are supposed to be like. Ella has completely adapted to all the freedom she has to run around, in and out of the house with minimal supervision. I have seen my stress-level drop due the fact that I feel like a have a bit of space to breathe. It feels so nice to be out of that little rabbit cage we call an apartment! I'm already wondering how B is going to manage to drag us onto the airplane in the fall...
1. Never travel with more luggage than you can carry yourself.
And that means counting children when the case warrants. Seriously, who in their right mind would travel with 4 small open tote bags, ie luggage that is impossible to set down without spilling out all over the floor? Here is some unsollicited advice- if you are travelling with children, a backpack is your friend. With any luck, you have a device to strap your non-walking child to your front. Your gear is all on your back. Then you have two free hands and the ability to manage two large wheely bags (checked prior to departure to verify that all wheels are fully functional). Voila- disaster averted, even if you have a screaming child and no luggage carts. Or you are suddenly required during a transfer to check your luggage in a distant terminal accessible only by slow moving walkway (true story). Sure, you can tell yourself that surely some kindly stranger will come along to help but in my experience a nervous breakdown normally finds you first. I will repack my bags three, four times to get to a point where I have reduced my luggage to a manageable amount. If its one thing that parenthood has taught me, its survival techniques. Only the fast and the strong survive.
So, it seemed like as soon as we arrived we were thrown into the thick of things, with all the 4th of July festivities. We got to enjoy my absolute fav bit of Americana- the Winter, WI 4th of July parade. Its the high school marching band, in their ridiculously hot woolen uniforms playing 'Play that Funky Music White Boy'; its the Little League team showing off their league champions trophy; its the Festival Queen in a neon pink polyester dress sitting on a hay wagon doing that silly pageant wave, its little kids dashing into the street to pick up candy thrown from the fire truck and nearly dying of fright when the Chief turns on the horns. I love every bit of it. And, of course, its twice as nice to bump into people I know and didn't expect to see- because its a small town so of course you see a million people you know. I love that I sit down, expecting to eat my sauerkraut covered brat alone at a picnic table, and end up sharing a plate of cheese curds with three of my aunts (and some strange, quiet man that plunked himself down right in the middle of us and we all thought was related to someone else). I love that the band playing Oldies Rock music all afternoon is a bunch of middle-schoolers, one of whom is a Chinese girl who is definitely shorter than her bass guitar is long.
Sadly, after a dinner of taco salade for about three times as many people as there were chairs in the house (another thing that I get weirdly sentimental about), I only managed to stay awake for the little fireworks at the house. The whole extended family, loaded down with bug spray and wool blankets, piled into cars to go see the town fireworks and 'oooh' and 'ahhh' while laying on the baseball field. I volunteered to stay home with the babies who were already asleep. When our neighbors decided to start setting off some major fireworks at 10:30, I jumped out of bed to close the window but, in my haste, failed to notice that there was a painting balanced on the top of the window, holding down a blanket to make it extra dark in the room. The picture came silently shooting down the blanket ramp while I tried to jiggle the window closed, hitting me smack on the bridge of my nose. So there I am in the dark, stiffling my screams so as to not wake the two sleeping children in the room, trying to get myself out from under the blanket while keeping the blood gushing out of my nose from getting all over everything- a bit of trick in the pitch black in a room set up like a obstacle course. I don't think I have ever had a bloody nose so this was quite an introduction. The blood stopped quickly enough but I swear I think that I really broke something. Its a week later and when I wash my face, I get a weird pressure down near my lip and my nose is super cracky if I wiggle the end. Thats not good, right?
So anyways, we have had beautiful gorgeous summer weather every single day. I am even counting the rainy weather because when it did finally rain, it was the most spectacular high-wind lightening storm that woke me in the middle of the night with the all the howling through the trees that was going on. We get woken up every morning by the flocks of birds peep-peep-peeping outside our windows (which is a nice change from being awoken in Paris by the garbage truck, but seriously, birds, can we take it down a notch or two?) When we drove into the driveway to our country house last week, I think Ella thought she had stumbled into a scene from a Disney film. First we had to stop so that a momma deer and her twin spotted bambis could get across the road. Then as we stepped out of the car, two squirrels jumped out of a tree and had some chattery little argument over a pine cone. And as we walked up to the door, a robin sitting on a post, sang us a little song before lazily flying away. Seriously, if a couple of dwarfs came whistling around the corner, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash.
All in all, I am so happy that we bailed out of Paris when we did. This is what summer holidays are supposed to be like. Ella has completely adapted to all the freedom she has to run around, in and out of the house with minimal supervision. I have seen my stress-level drop due the fact that I feel like a have a bit of space to breathe. It feels so nice to be out of that little rabbit cage we call an apartment! I'm already wondering how B is going to manage to drag us onto the airplane in the fall...
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
T- 2 hours
We leave for the airport in less than 2 hours. I started packing our bags at 8:30 last night and still have not started doing the bathroom stuff. Must wash my hair. Don't forget to pack snacks for Ella. I totally forgot yesterday morning to do a shop for airplane entertainment- and I am desperately, I mean DESPERATELY , in need of a stress free flight.
Naturally, leaving so early in the summer meant that we have had a million and one things to do before leaving and friends are in town so Ella and I have been out doing our social rounds non-stop and I only just managed to schedule in all the pre-flight preps that I needed to accomplish, things like haircuts and stuff. All these carefully laid plans were destroyed by an emergency visit to the hospital on Friday morning and strict doctor's orders to stay in bed resting for two days. I generally am all for laying on the sofa watching downloaded American TV for days on end, but this couldn't have come at a worse time. And of course with the sales, my dear husband has been working 7 days a week, so poor Ella has really bore the brunt of things.
Speaking of poor Ella, do you know that I was thwarted at every attempt I made to get seats for Ella and I together? I booked two window seats, 19J and 26J, but the NWA telephone agents refused to give me the aisle seat in either of these rows because you need to be an Elite Air Miles member for those seats. The fact that Ella is 3 had no influence. The fact that I fly NWA three times a year back to the States had no influence (my miles accumulate on Air France). Are these people completely retarded or just plain evil? Clearly, at some point, they are going to have to arrange for Ella and I to sit together so why wait until I am standing in the aisle of the airplane juggling bags and coats and blocking a hundred irritated travellers? Sigh.
I'm sure we will be fine. Ella is a star traveller and we doing our maiden voyage on the direct flight Paris/MSP so that will improve our travel experience by the simple fact that we will cut about 5 hours off our travel time. But its this last little stretch that is making me sweat. Oops- one more hour. I should think about getting in the shower, I guess...
Naturally, leaving so early in the summer meant that we have had a million and one things to do before leaving and friends are in town so Ella and I have been out doing our social rounds non-stop and I only just managed to schedule in all the pre-flight preps that I needed to accomplish, things like haircuts and stuff. All these carefully laid plans were destroyed by an emergency visit to the hospital on Friday morning and strict doctor's orders to stay in bed resting for two days. I generally am all for laying on the sofa watching downloaded American TV for days on end, but this couldn't have come at a worse time. And of course with the sales, my dear husband has been working 7 days a week, so poor Ella has really bore the brunt of things.
Speaking of poor Ella, do you know that I was thwarted at every attempt I made to get seats for Ella and I together? I booked two window seats, 19J and 26J, but the NWA telephone agents refused to give me the aisle seat in either of these rows because you need to be an Elite Air Miles member for those seats. The fact that Ella is 3 had no influence. The fact that I fly NWA three times a year back to the States had no influence (my miles accumulate on Air France). Are these people completely retarded or just plain evil? Clearly, at some point, they are going to have to arrange for Ella and I to sit together so why wait until I am standing in the aisle of the airplane juggling bags and coats and blocking a hundred irritated travellers? Sigh.
I'm sure we will be fine. Ella is a star traveller and we doing our maiden voyage on the direct flight Paris/MSP so that will improve our travel experience by the simple fact that we will cut about 5 hours off our travel time. But its this last little stretch that is making me sweat. Oops- one more hour. I should think about getting in the shower, I guess...
Sunday, June 29, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
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.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
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?
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
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?
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?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
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!
Friday, May 30, 2008
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.
Friday, May 09, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
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...
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.
(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.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
new summer sandals
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.
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.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Pourpîer
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