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spring is in the air
How do you know spring is arriving in Le Petit Village? When you see the tourists trickling in that’s when. The past week there have been three different camper vans parked in le petit parking lot and random groups of people walking slowly past my front window, gazing around, hands clasped behind their backs in that, ‘I’m relaxed because I’m on holiday and I’m very interested in my surroundings’ tourist stroll. And then I see them again a few seconds later as they walk back after realizing there isn’t anything to see up my way.So yeah, spring is coming with it glorious sunny days and Le Petit Village is awakening from it’s winter slumber. Soon the population will swell from 250 up to 1000 and Le Petit Village will be buzzing again. This all makes me think of last tourist season and the time Fifty and I got Papped.
(originally posted 4th June 2010)
………………………………………………………………………………………………….Yesterday Fifty and I got papped by some tourists while out for our walk. Tourists with the largest camera I’ve ever seen, you know, one with a crazy big lens that can be used to take photos of celebs sunbathing topless on a yacht off the coast of St Tropez. Like, one of those.This just confirms what I’ve felt all along; Le Petit Village tourists are nothing more than undercover paparazzi trying to snap me (I may be feeling a tad delusional this morning, lets go with it). I was in my usual Fifty walking attire, as in converse, windblown hair, and ridiculously large sunglasses (best to shield my eyes from all the flashbulbs… delusional!). Fifty was in his new spiffy black harness. It’s basically a bunch of thick black straps cris-crossing around his body, making him look like he is either 1. about to invade Poland, or 2. going to a sado-maso club. Either way he looks adorable.Maybe it was Fifty they were trying to pap and not me?Well that’s a bummer.Delusion over.bisou
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Project Runway
My last few French lessons have been spent studying passé composé and it’s conjugation (it’s not nearly as fun as it sounds). This is seriously mind numbing stuff and my mushy brain has been dangerously close to shutting down. But because my professeur is awesome, and sensed that brain flatlining was imminent, she provided a little CPR through fashion. Today, I give you the special Project Runway edition of my French lesson…I picked a photo from a magazine and described what the model was wearing (all in French of course… go me) and Professeur would draw it. Then it was my turn to listen to the French descriptions of her photo and translate it onto a page through art.
This is the picture that she was describing:
This is my artistic translation:
{talent}Clearly I should be pursuing a career in fashion. I mean really, look at that thing! Have you ever seen a more sophistically drawn piece of fashion design?! And It’s perfect timing since I hear Christian Dior is looking for a new Creative Director.
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Grease: Papa's Wife Version
Sometimes something happens here that makes me feel better about all the little mistakes I make while butchering the French language. For instance, when a French person flubs something in English, that usually makes me feel pretty warm and fuzzy. Sunday it was Papa’s Wife’s turn to make me feel good with her rendition of the Grease Classic; ‘You’re the One That I Want’.Danny Zuko: I got chills. They’re multiplyin’.
Papa’s Wife: I’ve got cheese, for my fire.
(wtf?)
So funny I almost snorted a little couscous out my nose.
Almost.bisou -
a naughty bawdy giveaway
The Sun King, Louis XIV of France, was a man that was used to getting what he wanted, and he wanted the most beautiful, buxom blonde in the land, Athénaïs. Never mind that Athénaïs was very much wanted by her own husband, Louis-Henri. Poor Louis-Henri, he was desperately in love and doomed for failure (It’s not easy going up against a man called, ‘The Sun King’ you know).
Gallic books has published Monsieur Montespan (the story of poor Louis-Henri, his wife Athénaïs, and her sugar daddy, Louis XIV) and have sent me a copy so that I may read it and tell you what I think. Well I think it’s a fantasticly bawdy, naughty, romp of historical fiction (if you like that sort of thing, and I do). In the words of Gallic Books:
The Marquis de Montespan and his new wife, Athénaïs, are a true love-match- a rarity amongst the nobility of seventeenth-century France. But love is not enough to maintain their hedonistic lifestyle, and the couple soon face huge debts. When Madame de Montespan is offered the chance to become lady-in-waiting to the Queen at Versailles, she seizes this opportunity to turn their fortunes round. Too late, Montespan discovers that his ravishing wife has caught the eye of King Louis XIV. As everyone congratulates him on his new status of cuckold by royal appointment, the Marquis is broken-hearted. He vows to wreak revenge on the monarch and win back his adored Marquise.
The author, Jean Teulé has captured the essence of the period brilliantly in this historical novel full of all the things I like best about the genre; real figures, real events, eloquent pose, and descriptive imagery, all with a dash of 17th century naughtiness. And since I would like you too to have a chance to spend evenings curled up with a glass of wine and a bawdy, naughty, romp, I’m giving away three copies of Monsieur Montespan for your reading pleasure.
And I’m giving you three opportunities to win one of the three copies: 1st entry: What’s your favorite book genre? Leave a comment telling me. 2nd entry: Be a follower and let me know by leaving a comment. 3rd entry: Like me on Facebook and leave a comment to let me know that you like me (I want you to like me).
To recap:1 comment for one entry.2 comments for two entries.3 comments for three comments.It’s that simple.(oh and contest closes Saturday 5th March,
and winner will be picked on Sunday)bisou -
pillow fight
{1}
{2}
{3}I won.bisou -
the wedding in words
Honestly I can’t tell you what the shotguns were all about (The Husband hasn’t been able to come up with a clear answer) but they were fired, and although I was sure the noise would spur Child Bride into labor, the only thing that happened was my head feeling like it had been knocked around inside the Liberty Bell and my ears ringing.So after all the gunfire and some photos, we walked over to Le Petit Bar for drinks and paella followed by this most awesome dessert (which of course my horrible photography does not give justice to).
{please sir, I want some more}The cream filled macaroon was most delicious, and from a savory not sweet kind of girl like me, that says a lot. It was so good, the Husband and Honey Jr scrounged for extras and shared some in a very Lady and the Tramp (La Belle et le Clochard) kind of way.
{no shame}And then the most spectacular thing happened… after all the dishes were cleared away, The Parisian left (his Wii must have been beckoning). That’s right, left us alone. We were left unsupervised for the whole night. The Husband became the bartender and I took over as DJ (it was a Serge Gainsbourg, Blondie, David Bowie kind of night) while Brother-in-Law made a huge calendar so we could all place bets on when Child Bride is going to have the baby.I’ve got the 7th of March.Care to wager?bisou -
shotgun wedding
{the bride and her Papa}It almost didn’t happen, but Brother-in-Law got married on Saturday. Child Bride was rushed to the hospital Thursday and we all thought La Petite was trying to come early so she could attend the wedding too. But thankfully, La Petite was staying put, and Child Bride was told she could go home and get married.It was Le Petit Village’s party of the year and all your favorite villagers were out and about…
{Honey Jr, Papa, and The Husband}
{Child Bride, her sister’s Angel & Wolf, Brother-in-Law, The Husband & Me}We vamped…
We drank…
We shared a cuddle…
{The Husband & Papa’s Wife}We played with our hearts…
And hid to have a little post ‘I Do‘ kiss…
And so you don’t think I’m being cheeky about the whole ‘shotgun wedding‘ thing… it really was…
See, told ya so.bisou -
big pimpin
Look what I got… Worthington at Worthy Style has bestowed me with the Sylish Blogger Award (I’m feeling rather blinged out over here. If I could transform the Stylish Blogger badge into gold, I think I’d O.G.… as in Over Gold… and that would be ghetto fabulous). Let’s see… let’s see… seven things… here we go…1. I love dreaming. Not daydreaming, but actual deep sleep dreams. I usually have pretty interesting ones. They’re like being in little virtual movies while I sleep. (I was in a movie with Bradley Cooper last week. It was AWESOME). Funny thing, people always say that The Husband kind of looks like Bradley. Observe…
Which begs the question… why wasn’t I just dreaming about The Husband? And I probably shouldn’t let The Husband read this post.
2. I have a pair of suede Valentino trousers that I love. They are super cool and fit me like a glove (well they will again after I shed the four pounds of baguette and cheese stuck to my backside). For the moment, I merely admire them and think about them while jogging.3. I can watch Giant with Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and James Dean more than any other movie. I never get sick of it. If you haven’t seen Giant, add it to your Netflix queue now. The first time I watched it I was twelve and it was my very first night living in Texas. My mother rented it for us because she had seen it when she was a little girl in Ireland, and it was pretty much the only image of Texas she had. Love that movie. Rock Hudson… S W O O N.
4. The first time I met Papa it was a surprise. A surprise because The Husband didn’t tell me I was about to meet him. It was a Saturday morning and I had arrived to Provence the night before for a two week holiday. We had gone out grocery shopping (because you know The Husband had an empty fridge) and on the way back, The Husband stopped at another house. The Husband told me we had to stop for a minute, (but didn’t feel it necessary to tell me why, or where we were). We walked through a gate and onto a patio, and there stood an old man (not that old, but older you know) in shorts, with no shirt on, trying to get dog hairs off a suit jacket (we were all going to a wedding that afternoon). The Husband introduced us, I said hello and after the man walked inside I turned to The Husband confused and said, “Who is that man?” Then The Husband said, “my father” and then I gave him a big ol’ whack across the arm because sometimes violence is necessary. Like hello? You didn’t want to tell me I was meeting your Dad???
5. If you had told me a few years ago that I’d end up living in a tiny village in the south of France with a French Husband I would have fallen off my bar stool laughing (and then ordered another Martini).
6. For two years in Dublin I lived with my Scottish cousin Bibbie (my grandmother and her great-grandmother were sisters). Not only did we live together, but we worked in the same office, and hung out all the time. After two years of pretty much non-stop contact I swear we could reach each other’s minds and communicate with only an eye roll and some mmm hmm noises. Being seperated from her feels like I’ve had a body part amputed. I love The Husband but it’s totally different. I miss my Bibbie
7. I believe in charity in whatever form we can give it, whether in time or money, no matter how little the time or the money. And I believe in acts of kindness and goodness. Any little thing that we can do to send out good vibes into the universe and try and make this world a better place is a good thing. Because I believe that we are very fortunate. No matter what troubles that we may have in life, if you are reading this blog post, you are literate, you have access to a computer and the internet, and that automatically makes you better off than millions of other people that share this planet with you. And I believe that we should do at least some little thing to give thanks for our luckiness. Because sometimes life is nothing but a big Roulette wheel. We just happened to end up falling in the right spot. To quote my friend M the croupier (in her heavily accented English), “Place your bets. No more bets.”
………………………………………………………………………………………………….Alicia over there at Attempts at Being a Grown Up , I think you’ve got a lot of style…
care to share?bisou -
champagne saturdays
The Parisian must have been feeling pretty bad about last Saturday. You see, the Saturday after my birthday (last Saturday), he closed the bar early when I was supposed to be celebrating my birthday there with Le Villagers (he has the habit of closing the bar on a whim to go home and play Wii). I’m thinking he was feeling bad because this past Saturday night The Husband and I dropped in for a quiet drink and he asked us if we would like some Champagne to celebrate my birthday…. um, oui.So the four of us shared a bottle (Mrs Parisian was there too) and it was perfect timing because as soon as we finished, Brother-in-Law, Child Bride, and Honey Jr arrived. Which meant Leffes all around. Except for Child Bride. She had a large glass of milk with a pink straw (I don’t think La Petite would appreciate the Leffe… she’s due to make her debut into the world in a few weeks and is probably all about the milk).
But back to that Champagne. I have a sneaky suspicion that The Parisian had alterior motives for pouring me that Champagne (like it wasn’t all about me… shocking I know). Like maybe he was testing it out for next Saturday. Like next Saturday, as in Brother-in-Law’s wedding reception next Saturday. That’s right. Wedding reception. Next Saturday. At Le Petit Bar.
It’s gonna be a doozy.bisou
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my naughty valentine
Because Fifty and I are busy making The Husband’s Valentine’s present (guess who has sticky paws covered in glitter?), I’ll leave you with naughty amour wishes courtesy of Monieur Gainsbourg and the iconic Miss Birkin bag herself.big pink glittery bisous(and a sloppy Fifty bisou too)
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It's Me, Sara Louise 