Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Killer Clouds From Outer Space

Have I ever told you that Le Petit Village is in the mountains? (small mountains, but a mountain still).

Well we are. Le Petit Village is 830 meters up. That's 2724 feet.

And because we are so high up, sometimes we get attacked by clouds (but only when Le Mistral has gone on holiday and is not shooing them away).

If you leave the windows open, and the light is just so, you can see them roll right into the house. And Fifty will look at the haze with that dog head tilt (which we all know is the dog equivalent of, "WTF?").

Some are light and fluffy, like they're full of angels, and sugar plum fairies and made out of cotton candy...

{angels}

{sugar plum fairies}

{cotton candy}

These are the nice clouds. I like these clouds.

But some are dark and sinister and full of evil I'm sure...


{evil}


{really evil}

And that's when I know the Nazi Ghost Zombies are coming.

And Fifty and me stay inside.

(with the doors locked)

bisou

 

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Stylish


OOH... somebody thinks I'm stylish!

The Stylish Blogger Award was passed to me by The Constant Search for More.

Merci Megan!

(Megan's great, and she's actually fluent in French, unlike some other people...)

I am to share five 'secret' things about me and/or this blog then pass along this award to five stylish bloggers.
...........................................................................................................

1. I like to iron. Just about everything in our house gets ironed except socks. But I hate making the bed (but do it, in fact I can't stand when a bed isn't made, it's a love/ hate relationship).

2. I've had a daily planner since I was 12. My first one was bought at Bloomies Express in JFK airport. It was a cream mockadile. I never let anyone see the lists that are written in there everyday. It's like that scene in A Beautiful Mind where that guy walks into Russell Crowe's room... nobody needs to see the crazy.

3. I'm a little scared of the ocean, not of the water, but of everything that lurks in there that we can't see. Like ghosts of drowned ships and stuff just floating around down there... creepy.  Oh, and I'm, not a huge beach fan. I like the idea of the beach (the warmth of the sun, relaxing, blah blah blah) but I don't like crowds, and I hate sand. Hate it. I hate how it sticks to you.

4. It irritates me when people get political on Facebook. Leave Facebook a happy friend place. When I'm having my morning coffee, seeing what's going on with all my long lost around the world friends, I really don't want to read snarky comments about one political person or another. It's not the place. And let me say, I am always up for intelligent political discussion and debate (in person, on the phone, via skype), but these are like ignorant drive by comments, political hit and runs if you will. And there just plain mean!

5. I have a large scar down the middle of my forehead. It kind of looks like Harry Potter's scar except more realistic. When people ask me how I got it, I usually tell them this crazy story about playing Monopoly with my brother when we were little and him freaking out because I got Boardwalk and then sheer Incredible Hulk kind of insanity ensuing.
But the truth is, I ran into the corner of the wall when I was two years old (I'm really really clumsy, and really fast). I was at my babysitter's house (can you imagine? babysitter's worst nightmare). My head split open like a melon, right down the middle. I have a ridiculous number of stitches (don't remember the exact number and not going to guesstimate because then I'll get that phone call from my mother).
I was very lucky for two reasons, 1) my babysitter was an EMT and 2) a plastic surgeon stitched me up instead of some 1st year resident with shaky hands.
I actually remember what I was wearing; a coffee colored turtleneck bodysuit (with snaps underneath) and red corduroys.
(Leave me alone, it was 1979. But I wonder if I'm still entitled to the Stylish Award after admitting to that ensemble).
...........................................................................................................

I know I usually break the rules and pass the award on to only one blogger, but this time, I'm going to give it out to all five (in alphabetical order)...

A Tranquil Townhouse
(stylish interiors)

Fabulous! (Pasta Not Included)
(stylish and fabulous!)

Jersey and the Monkey
(stylish Jr.)

Le Petit France Blog
(stylish in France)

Small But Charming
(stylish gardens)

 (By the way, that Monopoly story happened, 

except I'm the one who didn't get Boardwalk) 

bisou

Sunday, September 26, 2010

My First Franciversary

26 September, 2009, Sara Louise moved to Le Petit Village to be with The Boyfriend who six months later would become The Husband, and to rescue a puppy, who had been abandoned in a garbage dumpster and christen him, Fifty. 
.............................................................................................................
On this, the most honorable of days, I will tell you the story of exactly one year ago (and one year ago minus one day).

My last day of Dublin was rather uneventful. It had already been three weeks since I had finished at work, and many goodbye dinner and drinks with friends and colleagues had occurred, and nights in Temple Bar where I hugged Leprechauns...

{they're after me lucky charms}

So on that last evening of my old life what did I do?
I stayed up late shredding papers.
That's what I did.
I shred papers.
I actually shredded so much that I broke the shredder.
(Sorry Auntie, guess what you're getting for Xmas this year).
(Funny since I had gotten her that very shredder as a Xmas present).

Eventually all that shredding tuckered me out (with extreme boredom), and I went to bed. If any of you have made a big move in your life, you know what that last night sleep before is like. It's not really a sleep. It's a nervous rest. Sad that you will never be in that room again (or you will, but it won't be your room anymore), excited about your new life and all it may bring, and scared to bits that you made a very bad decision. And then the sunrises and what's done is done, and your on your way to your new life, your new home.

At the airport, checked in with my extra-weight bags I phoned The Husband (who of course was then, The Boyfriend), and he said he was sleeping. WHY WASN'T HE AWAKE? (I'll tell you why, because he had spent the night before drinking honey wine with who else but The Honeys. So while I spent a scintillating evening with a paper shredder, he was getting hammered on bee juice). If I was awake and nervous, he should be awake and nervous.  

One Dublin to Nice flight, and Nice to Le Petit Village drive later and I was in my new home. I was trying to look at it with 'new home' eyes instead of 'holiday fun' eyes. The Husband helped me out with that, I walked into a messy house. Definitely not holiday fun time. Cue first tantrum. 

Within a few minutes of my arrival, loads (maybe not loads, but like six or seven) of people were crowded around the outside of the front door. They were there to meet and greet me. They all stood there, smiling at me (inspecting me). I smiled back and nodded at all the French things they were saying. (It was the beginning of many months of the smile and nod).  

And that night we went out to dinner. 

And on Sunday I began to unpack. 

And on Monday The Husband went to work. 

And that was that. 

Welcome to your new life. 

This is not a rehearsal.

(not very exciting, is it?)

bisou

Thursday, September 23, 2010

honeylicious

{I'm innocent}

"And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it."   
                                                                                                   - Winnie The Pooh
..............................................................................................................

As if he wasn't sweet enough already,

now Fifty is honeylicious.

bisou



Tuesday, September 21, 2010

And In Summer Summation...

{oh happy days}
With the Autumnal Equinox occurring today, I will now take a moment to officially bid adieu to summer... 

Au revoir Summer.

À bientôt Rosé. 

I'll miss you both. Come back soon. 
..............................................................................................................

And with that, I will now offer you some of my favorite family gems from our holiday time together.

Enjoy.

"Big dogs suck all the oxygen out of a house"
Um OK Auntie, I guess that has some logic to it.


"Why won't you give me your password for Facebook? You're trying to hide something. What are you trying to hide?"
The Husband never told me that French Nana works for the secret police. (For the record, we have know idea why she wants his password so badly).

"And they say the Irish drink a lot." 
Observation by Auntie while watching Mr Honey have a little of this, and a little of that (a lot of this, and a lot of that). 
.............................................................................................................

And then there was my mother. Specifically my mother bonding with Fifty...

My mother is not an animal fan, she only really likes horses and I'm pretty sure that's because they don't come inside (except when I was two and I walked my Shetland pony inside through the garage. He was cold).

She would say things to Fifty like, "I don't dislike you. You're a very nice dog, but I don't need to touch you, and you don't need to touch me." 
And then Fifty would look at her, wagging his tale, and give her leg a big old lick (he's a licker).

And all that tail wagging and licking must have melted her heart because soon she was cooking up chicken scraps for his dinner....
(and getting all fancy with it)

"Do you have a bouillon cube?" she asked.

"For what?"

 "For Fifty's chicken"

"No. He's OK. "

"Well I don't know. Maybe he likes a little flavor". 

And as I was serving it to him...

"Wait, I haven't put any salt and pepper on that yet".

I knew she'd love him.
..............................................................................................................

Bonjour Fall!

Coucou Red!

I've missed you so!

(the red wine, not so much the Fall)

bisou








Monday, September 20, 2010

Instant BBQ

The story according to The Husband; Gatz phoned him and said that he would like to have a BBQ, but at our house. 


The Husband loved this idea. Gatz was buying all the meat, so that would mean all that we would have to do was turn on the grill, cook the meat, and voila, instant BBQ.

Uh, no.

Some men (particularly my man) can be so clueless when it comes to things like this. What do they think, we're just going to tear into slabs of meat, on paper plates, with our bare hands? (well, probably, yeah). 
What about side dishes? 
What about drinks? 
And who is going to clean up? 
(Just a few of the thoughts going though my head as I waved goodbye to my Saturday morning).


Merci Gatz.

So as I was running around cleaning and making tabbouleh, Gatz showed up with all these paper packages... 
(that really, if they were tied up with string, they could have been some of my favorite things, except they weren't brown)


Which when unwrapped, looked like this...


{meat}

Honey Jr manned the grill...


(This is Honey Jr working the BBQ in his back yard. I took the photo from my back yard. This is how close our houses are. It's snuggly).

And this guy supervised...


{I'm in charge}
..................................................................................................................................................

We ate Merguez, sausages, Andouille, Figatelli, back bacon, and chicken. It was a meat fest. I think I was the only one who had the tabbouleh. I think I was the only one who used a fork. So yeah, it turns out that it's true, all they wanted was to tear into meat, with their bare hands.

Fine. Good to know. Next time I won't go to any trouble. Because I'm pretty sure none of them noticed how clean the floor was or how nicely set the table was anyway. 

But luckily, I didn't have to make any dessert, because Honey Jr brought this...

{drunk fruit}

Melon drowned in Porto, yummy stuff. And since it's fruit. It's good for you.

And then, just as we finished our last bite of melon, Gatz stood up, said he had to go play Pétanque, and left. Poof! Just like that. No coffee. No digestif. 

He came, 

He ate,

He left.

bisou



Saturday, September 18, 2010

escargot


Snails...

From the garden to the table in only two weeks.

Or you can keep them as pets.

(I think I'll call this guy Melvin)

bisou

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

I've Got Nothing

There is nothing to report in Le Petit Village.

(Except for the crazy crickets that have been invading my home. It's like they've replaced the flies. Slightly more challenging to kill what with the jumping and all but I've honed my ninja assassin skills to accommodate their quick demise. My ninja assassin repertoire now includes flies, crickets, and basil plants).  

With nothing to report, I will leave you with these photos of Fifty in a t-shirt.

Enjoy...

{what up yo}


{I like cuddles}

..............................................................................................................

Oh, and I almost forgot, a very pregnant Vicky finally gave birth to four healthy puppies.

{preggars}

None of which look anything like Fifty (thank god) but very much like Leo.
(I can cancel that trip to The Maury Povich Show for the daddy test).


bisou

  


P.S. Despite Vicky's obvious indiscretions, Fifty still loves her.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

circus shmircus



{clowns are scary}


Imagine that you live in a tiny place on top of a mountain with only 250 other people (OK, in the summer the population goes up to almost 1000, but still). And to get anywhere, to do anything, you have to navigate down that topsy turvy mountain, on teeny, loopy, swervy roads with crazy kamikaze drivers. So one day, when you're out for a walk (because that's what we do here, we go for walks) you come across a sign that says the circus is coming to town. 

You would get excited wouldn't you? (Of course you would). 

And I got excited (I'm not going to go into much detail but will tell you that many 'circus is coming to town' dances were made up, and performed).

The Husband kept telling me to relax, that it wasn't a big deal, but how could I not get excited? The circus was coming to town. Big stuff in my little world.
..............................................................................................................

And then the trucks came (two to be exact)...


And the Big (little) Top was setup...





And the zoo part of the Zoo Circus was put out on the field where we play rugby with Fifty and Vicky...









Two horses

Two llamas
.
And a goat.

That's it. That's all I got.

Oh, and three clowns.

Next time I'll just watch Honey Jr and his amazing bees.

bisou

 

Saturday, September 11, 2010

substance



International Woman of Mystery at An International Affair has very kindly passed on the Blog of Substance Award to me.

Big thank you to you, mysterious lady. I love awards. Can't get enough.

Now, we all know it wouldn't be a blogging award if it didn't make us jump through a few hoops first.

The rules:

Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, and experience using five words. And then pass it on to another blog which you feel has real substance. 
(Actually I'm supposed to pass it on to ten blogs, but you know how I like to break the rules). 

.............................................................................................................

philosophy: i don't have a philosophy
(I cheated a little on this one, but it is five words, and the truth)

motivation: trying not to go insane
(If you lived in Le Petit Village, especially during the winter months, you'd understand)

experience: people probably think I'm nutty
(But that's OK. I know you like your Le Petit Village on the kooky side... Keith, I'm looking at you)

..............................................................................................................

Now for my favorite part. The part where I get to play Blog God and bestow joy on someone...

To Adrienne at The Rich Life (on a budget).

I like her moxy.

And her philosophy.

(It's true. She has a fab one. Check her out)

bisou

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

pooh-pooh

Children's books; English vs. French:

English version...


French version:

{pissed off mole}

(Translation:
The Little Mole Who Would Like to Know Who Poohed on His Head)


English: 0,  French: 1


bisou



Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Honey B Got Married

{honey kiss}

Last Saturday in a Gothic Cathedral that creeped the bejeezus out of me, Honey Jr's older brother, the allusive Honey B, got married.

..............................................................................................................

I heart this car...


And I heart this dress...


..............................................................................................................

At the reception there were some toys set up for the children to play with...

 
{Scarface called - he want's his suit back}

But The Cousin bogarted them for most of the evening while The Husband played with Barbies...


And I played with my wine...

 


bisou



Friday, September 3, 2010

C'est Kiki!

Now that I've documented my family road trip around Provence, the story of another...

One of my bestest friends, Texas Girl (I know bestest is not a real word but I don't care, she's one of my bestest and the bestest so there)...

{KoMiKaZe driver}

Anyhoo... Texas Girl, her mother Kiki and The Puma, flew from Texas to Sweden and then were driving all the way down to Provence. It's craziness I know. And they were doing it sans GPS. They went old school with a map, an actual map made from paper. Texas Girl is wily like that.

Oh, and they brought this guy with them...


Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Franco the mini piñata. Franco is of the paper mache persuasion, or as I like to say; papier-mâché, because I'm French like that.  

So luckily for me, them coming to Provence, and me being in Provence, we were going to have to see each other. 

After a couple of days in Sweden, they hit Luxembourg, Cologne, Nancy, and Lyon and then down to my neck of the woods; lunch in lovely L'Isle sur la Sorgue....

The Husband and I scanned the tables and there they were, nibbling salads and guzzling wine. They seemed to have adapted quite quickly to the whole laid back Provence thing. Well done ladies.

"Do you have any iced tea? No. OK, I guess I'll have a Chardonnay then."


After seven years abroad, and soon to be one year in France, Texas accents are like heaven to my little ears. Can't get enough. The Husband seemed utterly confused, but he didn't mind, he just liked being outnumbered by the ladies.

(He liked it so much, The Husband now refers to The Puma as Wife No.2. He likes to threaten me that if I don't behave, he'll runaway to Dallas and Wife No.2. Which is great, because I could really use the time off)


They spent the week hitting all the major Provence spots, and I got to see them here and there. But of course not as much as I'd like. 

(To be honest, I would have tied them up and kept them hidden in my little bungalow if i could, but that would've been weird). 

And soon the last day was here... what to do... what to do...

A little trip to Monaco for lunch? Why not

{Princess Grace got married here}

{The Husband and Wife No.2 }

And since we're here we might as well pop over to Italy for some gelato. 
Yes please.

 

{a little Italian rain}


And oh, we still have a lot of time left before the flight? 

Drinks in Monte Carlo then. It would be silly not to. 


{smells like money}

Let me tell you something about Monte Carlo, it's all very suave and James Bond - like. The name is Louise, Sara Louise. 

I could have stayed there forever. But as the bottles of Rosé emptied, we knew it was time to head to the airport *sigh*.

And off back to Texas they went.

But from all their hotel stays during their crazy KaMiKaZe road trip, they left me all this...

{I never have to buy soap again}

But with them gone I felt like this...

{I'm a sad panda}


bisou

P.S. And yes, OK,  bestest is a word , but it's slang so it doesn't count 

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