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.

  • 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

  • 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
    ,

  • 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
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  • 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 

  • Provence Lampoons Family Vacation: Part 5





    “He who has seen Paris and who hasn’t seen Cassis can say I have seen nothing”
    -Frederic Mistral

    {photo credit}

    Sitting outside our hotel in Cassis, sipping an apéritif and admiring the view, The Husband posed a question…

    If I won the euromillions, would I choose Cassis or Châteauneuf-du-Pape? 

    That’s a tough question because you all know about my feelings for Châteauneuf-du-Pape. I’m really not sure. That’s how much I liked Cassis, I might take it over Mecca.

    Let’s try and figure it out with some points for Cassis…

    Point 1: me and my yacht.
    (Look how happy I am. And I’m in white because I’m sailing to St Tropez to go to P.Diddy’s end of summer bash. P.Diddy throws one hell of a soiree, just don’t show up in any color other than white, Homeboy will freak out)

    {I’m lying}
    Point 2: stunning hotel balcony views 
    (although after winning the euromillions I’ll be enjoying the view from my yacht)

     

    Point 3: cocktails at night
    (the yellow one on the right is a Sex on the Beach… mmmm… tastes like Spring Break ’95)

    Point 4: The amazing Restaurant Le Bonaparte 
    (If you ever find yourself in Cassis, you HAVE to eat here. Seriously fresh and inexpensive seafood and the owner/ chef visits every table to help you with your order. It was so busy they were turning people away, on a Wednesday night. Of course by the time you visit, I could be the owner) 
    Point 5: good morning Bloody Marys
    (Unfortunately these did not taste like Texas; much more Tabasco and vodka is required. And I prefer celery to lemon, but I think if I win euromillions, I can hire a Texan to make them for me. Everyday. And they can pick up my Starbucks. Screw it, I’ll buy Starbucks)
    {breakfast}
    I think I might have to choose Cassis. 
    If only I can find a way to sail my yacht to Châteauneuf-du-Pape.
    And to win the euromillions.

    bisou



     

      

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  • Provence Lampoons Family Vacation: Part 4

    After Marseille, Forcalquier, Avignon, and Châteauneuf-du-Pape (aka Mecca), there were two remaining stops on our Provence road trip; Arles and Cassis.

    (By the way, this was The Husband’s first family road trip. Ever. It may take him awhile to recover)

    Arles is famous for it’s Roman Arena…

    Arles: Arènes d'Arles/ Roman Coliseum

    Théâtre Antique…

    Arles: Roman Ruins/ Antique Theatre

     And this lunatic…

    {I hate ears}

    It’s a sultry little city with a Spanish vibe (probably due to the bullfights).

     

    And it’s hot as hades (just how I like it).

    We walked through the streets, heads down, staring at the ground always on the look out for one of these…

    Because it would lead us to one of these…
    A sign posting the place where Van Gogh had setup his easel and painted one of his masterpieces. 
    Unfortunately, at times it was a bit of a let down. Your expecting the beautiful image in the painting but time rolls on and you get this instead…
    A boring building. And cars. Bummer. 

    That’s progress for ya.
    bisou


     

  • Provence Lampoons Family Vacation: Part 3

    Because we live in a teeny house (or as I may refer to it from now on; a bungalow) I had planned our itinerary to get us out and about as much as possible and to tucker everyone out.

    Monday morning destination: Forcalquier Market.

    Normally, the Monday morning market in Forcalquier is like a field of dreams for women visiting Provence. Not so for my mother and Aunt. I forgot they aren’t normal. They couldn’t have seemed more annoyed to be there, so after a quick lap, we left.

    Fail.

    Heading to Avignon, we stopped by L’Isle sur la Sorgue for lunch.

    Gold Star for Sara Louise.

    They oohed and awed at the quaintness and beauty of the small village on the water.

    I oohed and awed at the lemonade…

    P – Sh*t… Now that’s refreshing.
    After enjoying salads with goats cheese (give my aunt a salad topped with grilled goats cheese and she’s all yours) and the refreshing P – Sh*t, we continued on to Avignon. 
    Even though I’ve been to Avignon more times than I can count, this was my first time going as a tourist. 
    See, that’s us being tourists at The Pont d’Avignon (Saint Benezet’s Bridge). 
    Since we had seen the bridge in the song, and visited Palais des Papes, my mother and I were itching to move on. We had places to go. We left my aunt and uncle to further explore Avignon, but we let The Husband come with us (we needed a driver). 
    Mecca was a mere 18km away. Or as it’s known in French; Châteauneuf-du-Pape.
    (If you listen closely you can hear the angels sing)


    Vineyards, wine shops, and degustations, oh my!

    (I think I’ve found my new home)

    bisou
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  • Provence Lampoons Family Vacation: Part 2

    According to my laminated itinerary, after collecting my mother at Marseille Airport Saturday morning, we were to head to Aix-en-Provence for a stroll around Cours Mirabeau and lunch at this place that has all you can eat Beef Carpaccio (The Husband can never get enough raw meat).

    Unfortunately my mother brought Irish weather with her, actually, it was more like she flew by Bangladesh and picked up a monsoon.
    It was a huge downpour. Buckets of rain were being thrown on us, and at one point, the thunder and lighting struck almost simultaneously. It was clear we would not be heading to the car. I suggested we wait it out and have a coffee.
    The Husband does not have that kind of patience. He insisted that he make a run for the car and come back to collect us (actually, he may have been trying to ditch us). We all said no, but he went anyway.

    For the rest of the day, I had to hear from my Aunt and Uncle, all about how I made The Husband run out into the rain and get soaked. Repeatedly. And naturally, The Husband loved every second of it. Whatever.
    (They treat teasing like it’s a sport. I didn’t like it when I was twelve and I don’t like it now).

    Skipping Aix and the raw meat, we went straight to Le Petit Village, settled in, and waited for the rain to pass.

    And then it did, just in time for the village festival…

    After the fireworks, came the dancing and champagne induced shenanigans (Mr Honey was generously supplying it so we drank loads of it).

    The new Mrs Cousin was there, and although she wasn’t drinking due to Petit Cousin growing inside her (Petit Cousin is due in December, feel free to do the math) it didn’t stop her from busting out her own shenanigans…

    {Hey! You stole my stache!}
     

    I’m going to blame baby hormones. But she does look adorable in The Husband’s jacket.

    Even the tourists got into the mix.

    This Belgian lady and her friend were flirting with The Husband and The Cousin. The Husband told them that they were married but this nice old man was George Clooney’s father. Looks like she may have believed him…

    {Not Mr. Clooney}

    (For the record, this is not George Clooney’s father. This man lives in Le Petit Village right around the corner from our old house. He is still thanking The Husband).

    And of course no champagne induced shenanigans could be complete without me injuring myself in some way…

    After The Husband and I delivered my Uncle safely to his bed, we headed back to the festival. We were holding hands and happily skipping along when I tripped, and went airborne until I landed flat smack down into a briar patch.

    SPLAT!  


    (To help your visual, I basically belly flopped)

    Being a tad tipsy, and ridiculously strong (seriously, he’s like the Incredible Hulk), The Husband continued to drag me along with him until I was able to yell “stop!” loud enough for him to notice that I wasn’t actually running along with him, but being dragged through thicket.

    But since I’m a trooper and was high on champagne, I jumped up, dusted myself off, and returned to the festival.

     Because that’s how I roll.
    Although everyone did want to know what I had been up to in the woods. 
    (as they pulled twigs out of my hair).

    bisou



    P.S. I was in a whole lot of pain the next morning. 

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  • Provence Lampoons Family Vacation: Part 1

    A hot and sunny Marseille welcomed us last Friday. We brought my Aunt and Uncle to Notre-Dame de la Garde, because walking your 70 year old Irish Aunt and Uncle up a 154 meter hill with a bazillion steps in scorching south of France heat is always a good idea.

    (It is like a bazillion steps, I counted).

    But when you get there it’s worth it…

    {some of the bazillion steps}
     
     
    You can see all of Marseille from the top…
    {a whole bunch of buildings}

    And where one of my favorite literary characters, Edmond Dantes, lived for awhile. The small island in the middle is Chateau d’If from Count of Monte Cristo, or as I called it when I was little, Count of Monte Crisco… 
    And see this wall, it’s got some big bullet holes in it…
    And then you find out why…

    An American tank is parked down down the hill from the Basilica. It is situated roughly where the Allied troops were shooting from. Apologies for not taking a photo, I was too busy taunting The Husband.

    {Sidebar – whenever I see something like this, I like to look at The Husband and say, “You’re welcome.” He hates it when I do this. I love it.}

    I grabbed this one from the Internet for you…

    After the Allied troops bombarded the Nazis, the Nazis then moved to Le Petit Village where they became Nazi Ghost Zombies. 
    True Story.
    bisou
     



    P.S. Leaving Marseille we drove by a Starbucks! My beloved, allusive lover Starbucks! Starbucks moved to Marseille in May and nobody told me. 100km journey every morning, not that big of a deal.

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  • I'm Going Places…

    Somebody thinks I’m going places…

    Little miss witty, Allison (she’ll make you chuckle), at Adventures of Kiddo and Ramona passed on the You’re Going Places Award to me.

    And she’s right, I am going places…

    The family arrives today and we’re off to Marseille, Aix-En-Provence, Avignon, Arles, and Cassis in the next week (see, told you I’m going places). But the best place we’ll be going is to Le Petit Village’s festival this weekend. It’s going to be a doozy.
    (But, last night I was having a drink with the Epicerie Lady and she told me that the man who sets up the bouncy castle and bumper cars – lets call him Carny Guy – was supposed to show up yesterday and he didn’t! Scandal alert! All the village is talking about it.)

    Back to me going places…

    In a few hours I’m headed to Marseille and I have to get Fifty prepared for his sleepover at Papa’s (he has the cutest little jammies). But first I’m going to pass on You’re Going Places to two ladies who I think might be going places too…

    (Did you see how I just used to, two, and too in the same sentence? I’m crazy this morning!)

    One Blonde Girl

    and

    Harriett Starr at Down and Out In Primrose Hill.

    If you want a chuckle, have a look.
    (I’m all about the chuckle today)
    And thank you Allison.    
    bisou

    P.S. Kidding of course about Fifty’s jammies. But wouldn’t he look adorable in jammies?