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.

  • turn the lights off

    Lyon hosts a famous Fête des Lumières (festival of lights) every year on the 8th December. And this year, Le Petit Village wanted to get in on the action. Last Friday night (the 9th, not the 8th, but whatever), Honey Jr and Brother-in-Law’s party committee (the same zany little committee that brought us, Brazil Day) was due to put on our village’s very own Fête des Lumières outside of Le Petit Bar. But naturally, in true Le Petit Village style, it all went Pete Tong (in case you’re not familiar with rhyming slang… that means, it all went wrong).

    You see, Honey Jr and Brother-in-Law, are not the only members of the party committee, there are two others… The Parisian (total disaster, I know!) and Big Cheese (look at that… a brand new character never blogged about before… I’ll let you in on a little secret… I’m not a fan of Big Cheese). Everyone had their own job to do to ensure that Le Petit Village was lit up like Lyon. And Big Cheese had the most important job of the day… he was in charge of the lights. Like putting them up and stuff.

    Now I’m not sure if it was the pressure of all those lights and living up to Lyon that got to Big Cheese, or if he just got swept away in the festival spirit, but either way, instead of putting up lights, he spent the day drinking whiskey in the bar. Like ALL DAY. By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, he was hooched.

    And that’s when the fun started.

    Big Cheese went home (across the street from the bar), stripped off all of his clothes, and proceeded to walk in and out of his house, shouting abuse (at who, or about what, I have no idea). Somebody was not having it (I’m pretty sure that someone was his wife) and called the Gendarme (or as I like to call them, le po-po).

    And that was that.

    So the only Fête des lumières we had in Le Petit Village last Friday night, was the flashing lights of the Gendarme’s car, and Big Cheese’s full moon.

    Please enjoy a short clip of how Lyon does it (i.e., correctly)…

    I’m totally going next year.

    Who’s coming with me?

    bisou

    P.S. If you haven’t entered my book giveaway. You really should. Go ahead and click here, and let Fifty tell you all about it. 
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  • a little about everything & nothing

    So yesterday, while Fifty was busy blogging about Chula’s book giveaway, and updating his Facebook page (I curse the day I taught him to type… now someone wants his very own Macbook for Christmas and well, that’s just not going to happen), I was moonlighting over on Jen’s blog A Little About Everything and Nothing.

    Pop on over and read my moonlighting writing here.

    And if you haven’t already (and you really, really should) enter to win an autographed copy of Dog Trots Globe here.

    over and out.

    bisou
     

  • giveaway: Dog Trots Globe

    Bonjour tout le monde!

    C’est moi… Fifty!

    My mommy is letting me write the post today to tell you all about my Sheltie friend, Chula Wula D’Augue, and a fun giveaway (and Mom… how come I don’t have a snazzy name like Chula’s?)

    Chula’s mom is a nice lady named, Sheron Long, and Mrs. Long has written a book called, Dog Trots Globe. It’s about France… but through Chula’s eyes. So I’m pretty sure Chula helped out a little bit (or a whole lot!).

    {pretty girl}

    In Dog Trots Globe, Chula explores all over Paris and my lavender, stomping grounds… Provence! It’s full of loads of beautiful photos of France (more than 150 beautiful photos of the Eiffel Tower, the Seine, and those Provencal markets my mommy likes so much and loads of other ones too). Plus there are loads of tips in case you want to come to France and bring your dog too (dogs are THE best travelling buddies if you ask me and I’ll let you in a little secret… French people love dogs… we’re welcome almost anywhere).

    If you want to win your very own autographed copy of Chula’s beautiful book (that also comes with lots of fun online extras including four videos of France), here’s how you do it…  you must be a follower of my mommy’s blog and leave a comment to let her know that you are. It’s that simple!
    For extra entries you can do any or all of the following… but be sure to leave a comment for each!
    1. Follow my mommy on twitter
    2. Like my mommy’s Facebook page
    3. Become Chula’s friend on Facebook
    4. Like my brand new Facebook page (my mommy finally let me on Facebook… WOOHOO!)

    And if you want to buy Dog Trots Globe you can here, on Amazon, or the Apple iBookstore. 

    Voila… you have five chances to win.

    The winner will be drawn Monday, 19th December. 

    Good luck guys! 
    See you on Facebook.
    À Bientôt!
    Fifty
    Free Clipart Picture of an Animal Paw Print. Click Here to Get Free Images at Clipart Guide.com

  • the ultimate

    Let’s say Santa was being really generous this year… like R E A L L Y freaking generous, like Santa won the euromillions and wanted to spread the joy, well this is what I would ask him for…

    Santa my darling… don’t you think this Patek Philippe watch would look pretty swanky on my dainty wrist…

    {source}
    Yes, I think it would too. 

    Hmmm…. let’s see… what time is it?

    Oh, it’s time to fly all of my family and friends from the US, Ireland, England, Scotland, France, and Australia to get together for one wonderful week long shindig and we would have it here…

    {source}

    Look at that… it’s the Hampton’s mansion from Revenge.

    Do you like it? I do.

    I should probably look nice for the big soirée so how about this hair…

    {source}

    While you’re at it, feel free to give me Jessica Biel’s body too. And since I’ll look banging, wrap me up in a Hervé Léger dress for the festivities. B A N G I N G.

    Everything OK so far? 

    Fantastic.

    And Santa, since I’m sure we probably would wreck the place anyway, (my Irish family can throw it down), you might as well just hand me the deed and let me keep the house. I’d also like the closets filled with Stella McCartney’s latest collection. I’ll need some swanky clothes to swan around the manse in.

    Since I’m going to be Stateside for at least a couple of months a year Santa, living it up in my new home, I’ll need a new car too… this Maserati would do fine…

    {source}

    Now obviously this is not going to fit under the tree, so go ahead and leave it wrapped in a big red bow in front of my new house. And since you’ll have the red ribbon out, wrap the mansion in a big red bow too.

    That should about do it… until next year anyway. 

    But seriously Santa, if you don’t happen to win the euromillions, I’d be very happy if you can just spread a little peace and happiness around, maybe sort out this whole pesky eurozone crisis thing, and a Starbucks in Le Petit Village, wouldn’t go amiss (I did ask for this before… I’m still waiting. Just saying).

    Thanks. 
    Love ya lots big guy.

    bisou
     

  • a blogapalooza & a goodbye

    Hang in there kids… it’s a going to be a long one…

    On a very grey and wet Saturday in November, seven expat bloggers braved the rain to meet up for lunch in a tiny Corsican restaurant in Avignon for Blogapalooza, the second (the first one was in Aix last March).

    Some of the same faces were there but some new ones as well; Sarah of St Bloggie de Riviere came along with Samantha from Life, Love, and Living in France, Ameena from Mummy in Provence, (and to any Americans reading this… that’s Mummy like Mommy, not mummy like scary, dead, Pharaoh), B from Is There Such a Thing as Too Much Cheese, Aidan from Conjugating Irregular Verbs (I don’t seem to do much of anything without Aidan nowadays do I? Well I don’t, and I don’t want to, so there… I may or may not have stuck my tongue out at my laptop right now). Crafty Kirsty from You Had Me at Bonjour and Piglet from Piglet in France came with the two newest additions… babies!

    In fairness, the babies were there for the last Blogapalooza but they just weren’t out yet. So really, they weren’t the newest additions; Sarah, Ameena, and Samantha were. But anyways.

    We couldn’t have picked a better day if we tried, while the rest of Avignon seemed to have stayed indoors and out of the rain, we had the entire restaurant to ourselves. How cool is that? We got to speak English in our American, Australian and British accents as loud as we wanted without dealing with any stares from other tables. That’s pretty much an expats idea of heaven… chatter, gossip, chatter in our native tongue without fear of the French stares.

    And after three hours of chattering, laughing, and sharing stories it was time to head back into the rain. Aidan, B and I had some place to be. You see, not only was the weekend in Avignon a happy Blogapalooza occasion, it was a sad one too.

    {throw another shrimp on the barbie mate}

    (Sidebar: do you see that old map of Ireland hanging behind B & M? My Mom has the same one hanging in her house. No wonder I felt so at home at that pub. Pub = Mom’s house. Huh. It all makes sense now.)

    It was our goodbye to B and her husband, M. My buddy B. My little Australian koala is headed back to Australia with her husband to have their baby, and start their life fresh again in Melbourne. 
    So since we were blogapaloozing for the afternoon, we decided to bring our husbands along and make a weekend out of it. A proper goodbye weekend. 

    After lunch we found our husbands in an Irish pub having pints and watching rugby (shocking right?!). There wasn’t really anything to do but join them. I mean it was raining outside, and the rugby was on. Pints all around please (except for B… her baby koala didn’t want one).

    Pints, rugby, chat, laugh, repeat… was followed by dinner at Fou de Fafa. Listen up my little friends… if you find yourself in Avignon, Fou de Fafa is where you want to eat. Holy schnikeys it was good! But you have to make reservations, they are always booked solid, because yeah, it’s that good.

    Moving on.

    Of course we couldn’t just say goodnight and bid adieu after dinner… no no no… it was a goodbye weekend after all, so what to do to but return to the Irish pub where someone had this clever idea…

    {you never learn, do you}
    And that someone was not me.
    And then the next thing you know, after you’ve been hand-jiving to songs from Grease (in a pub… so embarrassing), and it’s the wrong side of midnight and you think that we all really should be saying goodnight, but then someone (not me again) has the maybe-not-so-brilliant idea to beg the night watchmen at the hotel for a bottle of wine from the bar so that we can keep on saying goodbye… so we did. 
    Then morning comes and that same person who was looking for wine on the wrong side of midnight isn’t feeling so hot (and again… not me). 
    But then we really had to say goodbye because unfortunately, crazy fun weekends saying goodbye to friends in Avignon don’t last forever. 
    To B & M… 
    wishing you both 
    much love, luck, and happiness 
    back in Australia. 
    Le Petit Village will miss you.
    gros bisous
    P.S. Happy Birthday Miss Minnesota! I hope your year is full of silver dollar pancakes.
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  • Cheesy Miss France

    The first weekend of December, Papa’s Wife usually hosts a Raclette party to usher in the holiday season (I love her for this by the way… and if you served me melted cheese all night I’d love you too). She did it last year, and she did it the year before (and I could have sworn that I posted about that but I can’t find it so I guess I didn’t. Apologies).

    The usual suspects were there last night… Papa, his wife (duh), Brother-in-Law, Child Bride, La Petite, The Husband, and me (and I forgot my camera, hence no photos… lame I know). But last night, besides the normal cheesey goodness, Miss France was on television, so of course we had to watch it. And let me tell you, watching beautiful, 20 year old, French women strut around in heels and bathing suits to the theme song from Wonder Woman, while stuffing myself with melted cheese has to be my favorite new past time.

    Sure she won a crown, but did she get to eat her own weight in cheese?

    I doubt it.

    P.S. And check this out, we were drinking Alsace wine with our Raclette and Miss Alsace won. Coincidence? I don’t think so. 

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  • traffic

    You have to see it to believe it….
    {progress}

    …and here it is, Le Petit Village’s very own traffic light!

    Sure it was only there for a few hours as some roadworks were being done but we had one. And of course The Husband and I got stuck at that red light. No other cars or people in sight, but we got stuck there, and waited. But before we could see it turn green, one of the road workers drove up, waved us on, and took the light away.

    And that was that.
    bisou

  • lait de poule

    Do you know what lait de poule is? It’s chicken milk, or what we would call, eggnog. But in France it’s called, lait de poule, which translates as milk of chicken. Can you think of anything more gross than the name, chicken milk? Me either.

    All this chicken milk talk came up over the weekend while we were celebrating Thanksgiving, since now Christmas is just a hop skip and a jump.

    But first… check out this tasty little guy…

    That’s our French turkey. Or as Aidan kept referring to it, a baby turkey (baby turkeys and chicken milk… freakiest meal ever if you ask me).
    ……………………………………………………………………………………………………
    Friday morning, before The Husband and I headed down to our first ever Franco-Texan Thanksgiving, Aidan phoned me…
    Aidan: “Why don’t you bring your running stuff with you and we’ll go for a jog tomorrow morning “
    Me: dead silence
    Because what was going through my head was some crazy multi-mile jog through Montpellier and uh, no, that was not part of my Franco-Texan Thanksgiving plans. But what Aidan had in mind was a turkey trot with the whole family. Our first annual Turkey Trot actually because you know that now, this is definitely a tradition. I mean look how awake and happy we all look…
    {turkey trotting in our sleep}
    Oh how I wish I had filmed Aidan’s Littlest chugging along. His little arms were pumping, his cheeks were pink, and there was a look of sheer determination on his face. As far as he was concerned, turkey trotting was some serious stuff. 
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
    {turkey, stuffing, and cranberry… oh my!}

    Dinner was delicious. Aidan and her mother nailed it (no small feat throwing an American Thanksgiving in France let me tell you). Every bite tasted like America.

    We watched the Longhorn/ Aggie game (a couple of days late but it was still awesome), we played charades (here’s a tip… if it’s your turn and you want to get out quick… mime Eat Pray Love… easiest one to guess ever), and we watched holiday movies. It was perfect. It felt like Thanksgiving. It felt like home.

    bisou

  • It's not too late…

    … since it’s still 10pm on the west coast, it’s still Thanksgiving so, Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends! You have to excuse me for not saying it sooner, but Thanksgiving has truly become the saddest Thursday of the year in my house. I’m convinced it’s the holiday that makes us expats feel the emptiest inside.

    We know that back home, family and friends are together all warm and cozy and happy, and we’re far away, going about a normal Thursday, except that normal Thursday has the power to suck you into a dark, vortex of lonely spiralling, sadness, and it feels super sucky.

    B L A H

    But… and this is a big but… this year I am celebrating Thanksgiving! Just not on Thanksgiving. Tonight The Husband and I are headed to Aidan’s house in Montpellier for a Thanksgiving weekend celebration and I couldn’t be more excited. We’re having a traditional Thanksgiving dinner followed by some pre-recorded American football, and there will be no French allowed at all. None (see, I told you it was exciting!).

    The Husband, Fifty, and me all wish everyone a wonderful holiday and safe travels. Now I gotta go and turn my frown upside down.

    gobble gobble gobble
    bisou

  • tidbits

    {hibernation is imminent}

    Please enjoy these recent tidbits from my life…
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
    You know how they tell you how dangerous texting can be? Like don’t text while driving and, don’t text while walking. Well it’s true.

    Do. Not. Text. While. Walking.

    Last week in Dublin, I bit it. I bit it hard. I was texting my uncle as I walked along. I didn’t see a curb and B A M !  Total utter humiliation. And nobody even saw me. So basically I was embarrassed for myself. Like I didn’t want ‘me’ to see ‘me’ fall. Mortifying.
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
    Back story: Aidan has three children, so in her house her name is Mommy and her husband’s is Daddy. So naturally, Aidan and her husband refer to each other as “Mommy and Daddy” at times. But one time, as we sat sipping Rosé on the terrace, Aidan wanting me to tell her husband something, looked over at me and said, “Tell Daddy…”

    So you can only imagine the fun that I’ve had with that.

    Flash forward to this past weekend… The Husband was in the living room playing around with the cable box when he looked at me and said, “I need to call Daddy.”

    ? ? ? ? ? ! ! ! ! !

    Now please try to imagine the expression on my face as I looked at my 6’2″ husband after the word, “Daddy” came out of his mouth.
    “Um, who is Daddy?” I asked, knowing full well that he wasn’t talking about his own father and silently praying that he hasn’t made a new ‘friend’ of some sort that I was unaware of.
    “Aidan’s husband. Isn’t that his nickname?”
    It is now.
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
    Anyone ever play Just Dance 3 on Wii? I played with Niece and Little Niece and while I thought I killed it, The Husband dominated. Which is totally odd, because his actual dancing, like in a club is ridic. As in not good. Maybe from now on he should just memorize the Just Dance moves and duplicate.
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
    We had a new shower installed last weekend. Want to know why we had a new shower installed? Because B shattered my old one (now B, you didn’t honestly think I’d let you get away with me never telling this story did you… silly B).

    You see, B is pregnant, and sometimes pregnant ladies have to pee… a lot. And one day, B drove all the way from Cannes to Le Petit Village and didn’t stop to pee once (it’s almost three hours). This was a major coup, but while she didn’t have to stop on the way, by the time she got to my house, that little baby was pressing on her bladder something fierce, so she ran into my house like a tornado, totally freaking out Fifty. A couple of minutes later, The Husband and I heard a loud crash and terrified that a pregnant lady had fainted in our bathroom, ran upstairs shouting if she was OK.

    “Yes, I’m fine. But I think I may have broken your shower.”

    Now please pay attention to the wording… I think… and I may have.

    Total hogwash.

    The whole bottom half of the shower cabin was missing. There was no, “I think” and “I may have” about it.

    What happened was, B had stood up, and as she did, she hit the top of her head into the bottom of the open window But she did it so hard, that the window lifted up, became unhinged, and crashed into the shower door.

    Homegirl has one crazy hard head.

    Silver lining… my new shower is much nicer than the old one. And in fairness, the last time The Husband and I went to B’s house, she told us that we could break anything that we wanted. What a sweetheart.
    ………………………………………………………………………………………………………
    For more tidbits… check out this interview featuring yours truly on A Matter of Taste.

    bisou
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