It's Me, Sara Louise

It’s Me, Sara Louise

Hi! You might know me as C’est Moi, Sara Louise. Before that I was Sara in Le Petit Village. Now, It’s Me, Sara Louise. Hello again.

  • The St. Stephen's Day Terrorist

    Looking at this photo, you would think that the St. Stephen’s Day Terrorist was the small, white dog who had eaten something that didn’t agree with his little belly. But no, as painfully odorous as that was, the St. Stephen’s Day Terrorist was actually my mother, who held us hostage with her particular brand of SingStar strategy. 
    Let me backtrack.
    For those that don’t know, St. Stephen’s Day (the day after Christmas) is an Irish holiday and since my Irish mother was visiting, we celebrated it. Plus, the 26th is also Boxing Day for the English, and guess who’s English… Mr. & Mrs. London are that’s who. So the day after Christmas, we went to Toulon to have a nice, family holiday (both Mrs. London’s mother and brother were over from London, and with my mother as well, it was like a mini family reunion… in the South of France… I love that!). Sadly for Mr. London, he had to go back to the UK that night for a funeral and would be missing out on all of the family fun time. 

    Family fun time like exchanging presents (OK, technically Mr. London was still there for this, but he was like a zombie apocalypse casualty do to a tad too much ‘Christmas Spirit’ the night before). A bottle of Jack Daniel’s Honey whisky from Dan-Dan (Mrs London’s brother) and a bottle of Champagne from Mrs. London. They both gave us alcohol…. hmmm… not sure what they’re trying to say, but I like it. (I’m saving that Rosé Champagne for my birthday… only seventeen days left to go!) 

    I gave the gift of reading to Mrs. London… one of my absolute favorites; The Bronze Horseman trilogy. (If you haven’t already read it, please add it immediately to your goodreads. Go now, I’ll be here when you get back.)  
    The Husband gave Mr. London a framed photo… it’s Mr. London and an ASM Clermont player colliding. I’m not sure who was tackling who, but it’s a humdinger. I’d love to show it to you but then Mr. London would get pouty, and his pout rivals The Husband’s, so no thank you, but it is quite spectacular actually (both the pouting and the photo).  
    Napoleon got Fifty’s Christmas elf hat that Fifty had outgrown…
    Dan-Dan and The Husband played with a new remote controlled helicopter, until one of them got it stuck on the roof… luckily Dan-Dan has big shoulders…  
    We put our pyjamas on at a ridiculously early hour (because the key word in family fun time is ‘family’ so that means pyjamas are always allowed), popped some Champagne (for about the third or fourth time that day) and played cards. 
    It was the L O N G E S T game of Phase 10 in the history of mankind. It was so long, I half expected Mr. London to have returned from the UK (obviously, I’m exaggerating, but it was over two hours and that’s a ridiculous amount of time to be playing one card game… blame it on the Champagne I guess). 
    And after the world’s longest card game, we moved to the living room for the main event… family fun time SingStar. Do you ever wish that you could go back in time and not do something… yeah this is one of those times. None of us have any right to sing ever (with the exception of Mrs. London’s mother… she’s got the voice of a wee angel). 
    It was not pretty (blaming it on the Champagne again) but that didn’t stop us from getting competitive. And my mother’s competitive streak led her to this strategy… sing louder than everyone else (which basically means shouting), accent the last word of every line, and you’ll win (it felt like we were being held hostage… seriously).
    But that didn’t really work… it only resulted in a loss to The Husband (“But Gregory doesn’t even speak English!!! How could he have beaten me???”), and a rendition of The Commodore’s classic, ‘Brick House’, that will remain burned into our memories forever. 
    Naturally a performance such as the one we were subjected to, would lead to some teasing. So at breakfast the next morning, we asked each other questions, questions like:
    Where does Obama live? He lives in the White HOUSE.
    What’s your favorite TV show? I like to watch Dr.HOUSE. 

    And guess what? Mrs. London caught the ‘Brick House’ performance on video. The whole thing! And oh how I would love to show it to you, I really would, but if I did, I would be in the dog HOUSE.

    (I’m pretty sure I’m going to be in trouble anyway)
    bisou
    , , , , , ,

  • today

    {I failed to take a photo of the inch of snow… sorry}

    Bonjour mes amis! (or bonsoir, or bonne nuit… whatever suits)

    My house is quiet. My mother left yesterday (On her birthday! But it’s kind of OK because we had celebrated on Saturday, and then again on Monday). And with the birthday girl gone, Fifty and I aren’t too sure what to do with ourselves. (That’s not entirely true… we have to pack away the Christmas decorations… they’re down, but still not packed, and Fifty’s lack of thumbs mean that it will all probably be left up to me… again… boo.)

    It snowed yesterday. But not a thick blanket of snow, only about an inch, which is pretty boring. I had high hopes for the snow because on our drive back from the TGV in Aix (where we said goodbye to my mom) the snow was bucketing down, and I was sure that the winter wonderland I’ve been waiting for had finally arrived. It hadn’t. I guess I’ll put away the Butler’s Hot Chocolate for another day. Boo.

    So that’s me… popping in to say a quick and clumsy coucou to all.

    It feels weird here now without a tree or the stockings or my mom. I guess I’ll have to go ahead and join 2013 with the rest of the world. Boo.

    bisou

  • Veille du Jour de l'An

    {Papa aka Ed Asner, Brother-in-Law in his special ‘Gap’ sweater, and The Husband, who I swear is not actually a giant}

    Disclosure: This post is about my New Year’s Eve, and more specifically, my New Year’s Eve dinner. Please forgive my food photography, it’s horrible, like really bad. However, I did get a new camera for Christmas, and I’ve vowed to actually read the manual this time, so fingers crossed you’ll start seeing much prettier photos here. In the meantime…

    Here’s the thing about New Year’s Eve… I’m not really a fan. It’s just so… “Look at me, I’m New Year’s Eve! I’m sparkly and shiny and the best time ever!” And honestly, I’m like, “shut the H- E- double hockey sticks up… you’re not, and nobody likes you” and then punching it square in the throat.

    There, I said it.

    But this year something fantastic happened, my New Year’s Eve was spectacular.

    Not wanting to go out-out, we decided to stay in Le Petit Village and dine at Chez Agathe, our local restaurant, for their special New Year’s Eve night. Papa and his wife were going, along with their BFFs, The Germans, Brother-in-Law, Child Bride and of course, La Petite (because why shouldn’t she ring in the New Year instead of being tucked up in bed like a normal 21 month old?).

    We were short one person though… my mother opted out. She’s not a big NYE person either, and usually volunteers to babysit for the night, so this time, she got to babysit Fifty with a bottle of Montrachet and a West Wing marathon (now wouldn’t it have made sense for her to watch La Petite along with Fifty? Yeah, I think so too).

    We arrived at Chez Agathe’s at nine…. Champagne for everybody! (Starting off New Year’s Eve with anything else is basically blasphemy. And so what if we had already shared a bottle with my mother. C’est la vie, no?)

    Flutes in hand we settled into our table while La Petite played with her favorite toy…

    La Petite is clearly her grandfather’s granddaughter. Let’s just hope she doesn’t try and shoot it.

    After the Champagne, we had Kir Royals and amuses bouches to nibble on (truffles on toast and boudin with something on top – I don’t know what that something was because I’m not a huge fan of boudin).

    See that weird breaded thing in the little red pot in the photo above? I know that it doesn’t look like much but oh my Michelin stars it was divine! It’s an egg, soft boiled to perfection, breaded and lightly fried, atop a sauce of fois gras. There are no words to describe this egg, no words that can properly do it justice. It was the egg to end all eggs. All I can say is, it was sublime. I loved that egg.

    So after the Champagne, Kir Royals, toasts topped with truffles, boudin thingys and the egg to end all eggs, dinner began.

    Dinner was six courses (bonjour gout, ça va?). The entrée was a choice between Noix de St Jacques juste saisie et sa réduction au Champagne (scallops in a Champagne reduction) or Trilogie de Foie Gras Maison. I had the scallops and The Husband chose the fois gras. (Actually he wanted the scallops too, but I wanted to try both, so he caved and ordered the fois gras. One of the many reasons why I love him.)

    And for the second entrée (that’s right… the second entrée… and we haven’t even gotten to the main course yet) we had Tempura de Gambas dans sa nage façon Bouillabaisse (Tempura battered shrimp swimming in a Bouillabaisse sauce. Another winner).

    After amuses bouches and two entrées, we needed a rest and that rest came with a Pause Provençale…

    Have you ever heard of Granita… you know, that slushy, Italian dessert? Well this is red wine granita… the greatest palate cleanser there ever was. (I would have licked the inside of that glass dry if I could have. I’m not proud.) 

    After our ‘rest’, it was time for the main event, le plat principal… 


    There was the Cochon de lait confit façon aigre-douce et sa pomme golden caramélisée (suckling pig with golden caramelized apples) which is what I had above. And the Civet de Lièvre en longue cuisson, comme le faisait ma grand-mere (Agathe’s grandmother’s Hare recipe). The Husband had the Hare and I would have taken a photo of it, but I was too busy eating. Apologies.

    Because this is France, after our main course, we eat cheese… a lot of cheese…

    And because this is The LPV, and we tend to be a bit on the silly side in The LPV, this happened… 


    That’s me on the left and Papa on the right. Why did we have this headlamp thingy at the table? I have no idea, I don’t even know where it came from or who it belonged to. But you can’t have a headlight thingy at the table without putting it on, right? Right. And do you see the back of a man to the right in the background of the photo of Papa? Well that’s some guy from England. Mrs. German had gone over and introduced herself when she heard them speaking English, then she called me over because of course I had to meet them. Because all English speakers in any non-English speaking country must meet and become friends. Those are the rules.

    After the cheese we had café gourmand for dessert. It was another perfect course, but by that point, 2013 had already arrived and I was too busy playing with my new headlamp thingy and talking to English people to bother taking a photo.

    And then to bid a proper adieu to 2012, I made everyone go around the table and say what they had loved the most about it, and of course we had to toast to each and everything that everyone said (because I like to make people participate in drinking games that they didn’t sign up for).

    Bonne Année tout le monde !

    (two weeks late…oops)

    N’importe quoi.
    (that means whatever)
    bisou
     
    , , ,

  • let them eat cake

    King’s Cake that is (or La galette des Rois as it’s known en français).

    La galette des Rois (which I had last year and the year before that, and the year before that, but I don’t think I blogged about it, but honestly I don’t remember, so if any of you remember me writing a post about King’s Cake back in ’11, or ’10, please do let me know) is quite the tradition around these parts and by these parts, I mean France.

    We eat the cake to celebrate the Epiphany, but really, they sell it throughout all of January, and not wanting to waste anytime, Papa’s Wife’s 90 year old mother, Louisette, bought one for us to eat on New Year’s Day (totally understandable because if I was 90, I probably wouldn’t want to waste anytime either).

    We went to Papa’s for lunch (we being my mother, The Husband and me) and were supposed to be joined by Brother-in-Law, Child Bride and The Germans as well, but none of them showed. I’m guessing they were far too pooped from that spectacular cocktail party in the original Le Petit Village on New Years Eve. Oh well, more cake for the rest of us.  (OK, so I know that I’ve jumped straight from Christmas to January 1st without one iota of gossip from St. Stephen’s Day or a New Year’s Eve rundown, but I promise, I’ll get to them). 

    Now the way King’s Cake goes is, the youngest person there is supposed to get under the table (so they can’t see anything) and say who gets what piece of cake, but since La Petite had went down for her nap, that left The Husband as the youngest and he’s way too big to crawl under the table, so we skipped that tradition. Which is kind of funny, because look who found la fève in his piece of cake and got to be king for the day…

    So yeah, that’s La galette des Rois. It’s, traditional, tasty and comes with a little bean inside of it that if if it happens to be inside your piece, means you get crowned King for the day (or Queen if the gender fits). And besides la fève (the bean), there might be another treat in the cake like this tiny cow… 

    And there you have it, King’s Cake.
    (I clearly don’t have a clue how to end this post, 
    please forgive me).

    bisou
     

  • Scenes from a Christmas

    {Papa’s house}
    My Le Petit Village Christmas kicked off at 6:30A.M.. Why so early you ask? Well surprisingly, it wasn’t Fifty who woke us up, tail wagging, ready for his walk and to see what Santa left him. It wasn’t The Husband, impatient and anxious to finally unwrap all of his pressies, and it wasn’t me either. It was my mother. 
    ‘Supposedly’ she woke up because she needed a glass of water, and she walked (stomped) down the stairs, turning on all of the lights as she went. I asked her about the large tumbler of water that had been on her nightstand, and ‘apparently’ she had been unable to find it in the dark. Um, OK. And since we were all awake, we might as well open up everything that was under the tree. 
    At least being up well before dawn gave us plenty of time to relax, watch Elf, and have a Mimosa or two (or three or four) before lunch at Papa’s house. 
    When we arrived, Papa was wearing his Texas apron and ready to shuck the oysters (I’m not sure if his chest is puffed because he’s proud to be an honorary Longhorn, or because shucking oysters is dirty, manly man work, either way, this photo has made me realize that my father-in-law looks like Ed Asner, and that’s kind of cool since Ed Asner plays Santa in Elf. How you like them apples?).
    We passed out the presents and oohed and aahed as we opened them. Well I oohed and aahed, Brother-in-Law just seemed confused. We had given him a sweater from Gap and when he looked at the tag, he asked if we bought it in Gap (meaning the city about 90 minutes away from Le Petit Village, not the store), and when The Husband told him that no, we bought it in the store, Gap, I thought Brother-in-Law’s head was going to explode. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, my brother-in-law has no idea that there is a store called, Gap (with the exception of Corsica, he doesn’t get out much). How in the name of all that is Zara are me and this guy related? ! ? ! 
    Righty-O.
    La Petite loved the owl animal backpack that we gave her, but instead of putting it on her back, she decided to push it around in her stroller instead. But who cares, she’s adorable so she can do what she wants. 

    And doesn’t she look pretty in her little Christmas outfit? Papa’s Wife bought it for her months ago and patiently waited until Christmas to see her granddaughter in it. But she wasn’t counting on this happening…
    We were all sat around the table, enjoying our smoked salmon, shrimp, and fois gras (after the oysters but before the lobster tail… nom nom nom)…

    … when suddenly, La Petite kind of stood up, squatted at her seat, and made eye contact with The Husband (I found out this bit after, I was too busy eating. Actually, we were all too busy eating and the only reason The Husband saw what was going on was because La Petite had zeroed in on him). She stared at him and stared at him, all the while, contorting her face and making her cheeks flush. He wasn’t too sure what was happening, but then a couple of minutes later, Child Bride sensed (smelled) something, hopped up, grabbed La Petite and rushed upstairs. Yep, La Petite had pooh-poohed right there at the Christmas lunch table, in her pretty Christmas outfit. Luckily, she happens to look pretty darn cute in pyjamas as well.

    And after the pooh-pooh incident, after the lobster tail and the cheese, and the café gourmand with the macarons and chocolate cups, it was time for the other dessert, Les Treize Desserts de Noël to be exact. 
    But who has room for thirteen desserts after all that? 
    bisou

    , , ,

  • in case you were wondering…

    … what else has been going on during this long holiday season (mine officially ended yesterday after returning from a night in Toulon and I’m so very sad to see it go).

    {buy me}

    ++ The 2013 Dieux du Stade rugby calendar is out and I’m a little disappointed that one didn’t find it’s way into my Christmas stocking. Although, seeing Julien Pierre make the cut this year has me giddy as a school girl (fingers crossed that I might unwrap one for my birthday next month).

    ++ The day after my mom arrived I made escargot for lunch. And with the bottle of Petit Chablis we washed it down with, it was all very la-di-da indeed. But since there was pizza leftover from the night before, we had a couple of slices of that too, so that took the la-di-da-ness down a notch. One can never be too la di da in The LPV you know.

    ++ Remember how Gatz was going on and on and on about his Tartiflette? Well the whole Tartiflette thing got into my head and since I couldn’t stop thinking of the cheesy, creamy potato goodness, I made one. (Take that Gatz). It was my very first one and it came out perfectly, and I didn’t invite Gatz to have any of it. MUAH HA HA!

    ++ After The Husband wrapped my Christmas gift, he came downstairs and proudly presented it to my mother asking, “Didn’t I do a good job?” She answered, “Well there’s no bow, ribbon or name tag but other than that, sure you did.” Poor guy.

    ++ And in a fantastic moment of blondness (apologies in advance for the stereotyping) The Husband ordered my present from Amazon forgetting that the Amazon account is setup with my email, so I received the confirmation email telling me that my Nikon Coolpix was on it’s way. Fortunately, I’m very good at feigning surprise.

    ++ Remember how The Husband watched Harry Potter for the first time back in September? Well this holiday season we managed to watch the rest of them. Seven Harry Potters and we even through a Narnia in there for good measure. We are now officially Pottered out.

    {Merci Mrs. London}
    ++ Besides watching Harry Potter pretty much nonstop, we drank Champagne almost everyday. Seriously, just about everyday one of us was popping a cork. My mother told me that when someone asks her what she did while she was in France shes going to say, “I ironed, ate McDonald’s and drank Champagne everyday” (I bet you really want to visit me, don’t you). 

    ++ In case you were wondering how it all turned out, La Professeur’s surprise for her husband went off without a hitch. She even filmed him opening the signed ball and sent me the clip. Pure. Christmas. Magic.

    ++ Child Bride did one of those Facebook things that tell you what song was #1 the year that you were born… her birth year song is ‘I’m Too Sexy’ by Right Said Fred which I totally remember singing along with and dancing to. So that doesn’t make me feel old at all, no not in the least bit. BLECH.

    ++ And get this, on NYE we had dinner together (plus Brother-in-Law, Papa, and Papa’s Wife and The Husband of course, and I’m going to tell you about it real soon, pinky swear) and Child Bride asked me what I was doing after dinner, I asked why, and she said because there was a cocktail party back in the original Le Petit Village (a cocktail party… really?). Well I said that since dinner wouldn’t be over until well past midnight, I’d be going home after and do you want to know what she said? Get this… she said, “Oh, that’s your age“.

    OH NO SHE DIDN’T!
    Except yeah, she did.
    bisou
     
    , , , ,

  • 'my very best Christmas' by Fifty

    Bonjour tout le monde! C’est moi, Fifty! 
    Did everyone have a nice holiday? I had the best Christmas ever! Since my mommy let me tell you all about my Thanksgiving, I asked her if I could tell you about my Christmas too.   
    I knew this Christmas was going to be good because my grandma came to visit and she came all the way from someplace called Texas. I don’t know where that is, but Mommy and Daddy said it’s really far away. 
    Last year, we went to my other grandma’s house in Auvergne and that was fun, but I like staying at home too (riding in the car is not my favorite). Plus, it seemed like Grandma never stopped cooking so I spent a lot of time hanging out on the steps to the kitchen.
    I figure that since people have to walk over me to get in or out, they can’t help but to notice me sitting there so they’re more likely to put a little something into my bowl. And I can stare at my grandma while she cooks and give her sad, pouty looks. So far, this method has gotten me; turkey, beef, and lamb (that’s my new favorite).
    On Christmas morning when my mommy was handing out the presents, I couldn’t believe it when she put two presents in front of me. TWO! I got so excited unwrapping them that I could hardly stay still long enough to pose for photos. 
    That’s why I look all blurry and fuzzy in that photo, I was too excited to sit still! One of the nice ladies that was visiting with my grandma in September sent me a stuffed toy with big eyeballs, and my grandma got me a monkey crossed with a cow that has hands and feet that squeak when I grab it. It’s an odd little thing but it’s my new baby and I love it.   

    That’s me with my toy and my baby. I had a so much fun playing with my new toy that it might have been a bit too much fun for the toy….

    I ripped it’s face off. Oops. My mommy had to take it away from me because she said that I have ‘self control’ issues. I’m not sure what that means but I’m trying really hard to be gentle with my baby. I don’t want what happened to the last one to happen to this one too. So for now, this baby is only for cuddles.

    Bonne année tout le monde! 

    À Bientôt!
    Fifty
    Free Clipart Picture of an Animal Paw Print. Click Here to Get Free Images at Clipart Guide.com

  • 2012, I hardly knew ye

    For me, 2012 feels like the fastest year that there ever was, and that scares me. They always say that the older you get, the faster time flies by, well that is certainly true and I’m certainly freaked out. I’d love to go back to being nine when every year seemed to inch by at a snail’s pace… long stretches of time to count off between my birthday and then summer vacation before the long wait onto Christmas. Now, I barely have to blink before another year has gone (and another grey hair has arrived… what’s that all about?!).

    So since it’s officially Veille du Jour de l’An, it’s time to bid a proper farewell to 2012. May it rest in peace. 
    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
    2012 kicked off rather sadly for me, we were only a couple of days in when I found out that dear, sweet, stalking Vicky had passed away, leaving me rather sad and Fifty lonely for his friend. 
    But life moves on and luckily I had somethings to distract me, like gloating over a rugby win in my jammies and Honey Jr saving me from my own stupidity. I regaled you with tales of my affinity for Gypsies (although I never did make it to that pilgrimage), how I cooked something that The Husband actually hated (omg… it turns out that there is something that The Food Whore actually doesn’t like to eat!!!) and surprise… we ate more cheese! 
    February began cold and covered in snow, which of course meant 4-wheelin and sledding with Fifty in tow. And then it was the most wonderful day of the year… my birthday, and it was so cold, I practically froze my hiney off while having to repeatedly, blow dry frozen pipes outside my house thanks to an icy mistral, but it was nothing that a little Pride & Prejudice and Kir Royals couldn’t cure. 
    My birthday was celebrated in the most uncoordinated, SNAFU sort of ways but it all worked out in the end and was made even extra special by a present given to me by RoRo and the French Rugby team. 
    After my birthday, The Husband was struck down by the awful grippe that was making it’s way around France and every five minutes he would declare, “I die soon” (I barely held onto my sanity through that one and what did I get for my trouble… my very own case of the flu).
    We managed to shake off the germs in time to celebrate La Petite’s first birthday and a Hotel California-like trip to Toulon. 
    In April it seemed like everyone in Le Petit Village had a birthday, first, La Croupier had a surprise flashmob to celebrate her 30th and then Gatz turned thirty as well with not one, but two parties. To escape all of the birthday madness, I went to Aix to see Mrs. London and my friend, Zara. 
    After Aix, there was one more birthday, Honey’s Honey turned a whole 24 years old (I bet she doesn’t have that grey hair problem) to distract us from all of the French presidential brouhaha that commenced in a Hunger Games-esque type fashion (no, they did not battle it out to the death, although that’s an interesting idea… ).  
    In May something big happened in The LPV, we left it. Sure we left it with what seemed like trip after trip to Toulon, but we really left it when we moved to the all new Le Petit Village (a whole six miles down the road and through the forest away).
    Summer began with a pig roast (the most disgusting of disgusting pig roasts), and lots of unpacking and adjusting to my new surroundings (omg… my kitchen has drawers and cabinets!!!).
    But even though we were happy in our new home, we still missed Le Petit Village and Les Villagers so we returned for a bbq and Pétanque at Honey Jr’s followed by some hay bale rolling fun (if you have never rolled hay bales through a small mountain village in France well then you are definitely missing out… go ahead and add it to you Bucket List immediately). 
    Lots of other marvelous things happened in June… The Husband turned thirty, we spent the weekend in Avignon to recuperate, Honey Jr and Brother-in-Law’s ‘Brazil Day’ was exported to another village (one even smaller than The LPV), The Husband’s step-grandma turned 90 (and I schooled some Marseillais in Pétanque), La Petite was baptized (with some of the congregation dressed as extras from My Big Fat Gyspy Wedding) and I let you in on a big, big secret…. The Husband’s name is Gregory (and not in fact, Grégoire as some might think). 
    As summer does tend to pass by in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t long before it was the dog days of August, and another Brazil Day (this one back in the original LPV). August was so hot that I found a frog hanging out on my living room wall desperately trying to escape the heat. But thankfully as September rolled in, the heatwave broke just in time for la rentrée and the arrival of my mother & co for our staycation. 
    And what a staycation it was, we were here, there, and everywhere (Avignon, Gordes, Cassis, Saint-Rémy and Les-Baux-de-Provence, and Aix). 
    When the Staycation came to a close and my visitors returned to the States, Autumn arrived and with it more friends. Texan Sarah came for a weekend with her husband and we were back to Marseille and Cassis again and since heaven forbid we let the grass grow under our feet, off to Toulon we were for some more rugby and mischief, this time, bringing Mr & Mrs London home with us so they could attend Child Bride’s ‘F Halloween party‘.

    And then oh my heavens how in the name of Snooki did it turn into November so quickly?! November is full on hunting season in Le Petit Village so Papa’s Wife, The Husband and me formed our own little anti-hunting club consisting of long Sunday lunches and afternoon movie sessions. But we did have to abandon Papa’s Wife for a Thanksgiving weekend in Toulon, where Fifty met his cousin Napoleon, and I came face to face with the Grinch that stole Thanksgiving.
    With December comes winter and in Le Petit Village, winter means one thing… Raclette. And for the first time ever, Le Raclette was hosted by Gatz in his spanking new apartment. Clearly impressed by his hosting skills, Gatz was adamant that we come over for a Tartiflette as well even though The Husband told him over and over again that we were staying home to decorate our Petit Sapin de Noël.
    And that’s basically it. December flew by with the arrival of my mother, another trip to Toulon for another Raclette and some rugby, we went to Aix to see the Christmas lights and I impersonated one of Santa’s Little Helpers, we celebrated Christmas and St. Stephen’s Day (haven’t told you about those yet… ) and here I am… sitting in my new Christmas jammies, waiting for Mrs. London to let me know if she and Mr. London will be joining us this evening, and counting down the hours left in 2012. 
    T-minus 12 hours and 56 minutes left to go.
    bisou
      
    P.S. Tonight I will be toasting to all of you dear friends. Cheers to each and everyone of you and may your 2013 be full of everything your heart desires, but mostly, may it be full of good health, happiness and love. 

  • this day last week…

    …we were doing the shopping for our Christmas Eve dinner.

    Oh how I wish I could go back there (even if that would mean battling the other shoppers at Hyper U and having my cart rammed repeatedly all over again). That sad ‘end of Christmas feeling‘ is beginning to sink in, but thankfully, I have you to rehash my Christmas tales with. Let’s pretend that the Spirit of Christmas is still swirling all around us, and I’ll tell you about my Christmas Eve.

    This year was the first year to celebrate the holiday at my house. Sure we would be going to Papa’s for Christmas day lunch, but Christmas Eve dinner belonged to me, so when we were invited to go to The Husband’s Uncle’s house in Saint-Rémy for the 24th, we had to politely decline. There was no way I could possibly pass up the opportunity to have part of Christmas my way, at my house.

    And my way, at my house meant a Champagne and fois gras apéro while listening to Christmas With the Rat Pack. (The Champagne was provided by Gatz who arrived with two bottles, and on his best behavior, my mother was quite impressed.)

    L’apéro was followed by a dinner of bœuf bourguignon, brandied peaches, green beans and my killer mashed potatoes (my mother has named my mashed potatoes ‘killer’ because they taste so good… the irony of this is that there is so much butter and cream in them, they could possibly be ‘killer’ mashed potatoes), washed down with lots and lots of Saint-Emilion Grand Cru.

    Both my table and Fifty were dressed up in their Christmas finest…

    And with The Husband and Gatz on their best behavior, the evening ended up being quite the civilized affair (are you shocked, because I know I am).

    We opened our stockings…
    {Thank you Miss Vicki}
    And unwrapped cheese…
    {Banon}

    Then we topped it all off with a Bûche de Noël (a Bûche chocolat à la fleur de sel-confiture de lait to be exact).

    That like a real French woman, 
    I had bought at Picard.

    bisou
     

  • the day after

    {twas the night before Christmas}
    Well hello there, how was your holiday? I hope it was full of mistletoe kisses and sugarplum dreams. Mine was as magical as magic can be and I’m over the moon, full to the brim with beef bourguignon, oysters, fois gras, and cheese (and lets not forget Les Treize Desserts de Noël… no no no, we wouldn’t want to forget those), and happily exhausted from too many rounds of cards. But it’s not over. We’ll be spending St. Stephen’s Day (Boxing Day to you English lot and the day after Christmas for my American friends) with Mr & Mrs London, so I’ve popped in quickly to say hello, all is wonderfully well in Le Petit Village and I haven’t been abducted by any red-nosed reindeer. 
    À bientôt mes amis!
    bisou