Becoming 9

Week three at school and I think I am One Of The Kids now. My classmates seem happy to see me arrive each morning and many skip (yes, skip) toward me and offer an enthusiastic bonjour. A few are eager to tell me their news or show me things. One morning a group of kids were huddled around a window and called for me to come over and take a look with them. Of course I didn't know what to expect and I must admit I felt a little anxious over what I was about to see. Maybe a dead critter? Turns out two insects were, shall I say, ''having an intimate moment''. The kids were fascinated by this while I was relieved it wasn't a dead thing. But what to say? And, remember, say it in French! I stood there with the kids, huddled in a circle with them, and realized that they had taken me into their fold. My response didn't really matter. I am becoming 9 again and it is fun-tastic!

Back to School

Here it is, my fiftieth year of life and I find myself sitting in a classroom with 9 year olds. The teacher is, possibly, the same age as my eldest daughter and the students have grandparents, possibly, the same age as me. I am here to learn French but I think I'm about to learn more than that.

As I listened to the teacher introduce me, I winked at curious children and gave silent thanks that my rear fit in the chair. My neon green notebook looked awesome on my worn wooden desk. My denim jacket is suitable fashion and my ponytail is just the perfect 'do. I feel as though I am fitting in (pun intended) and the stomach butterflies are calming down a bit.

The teacher takes roll call and announces who has what task for the week. The student assigned to the poubelle (garbage) moans just enough to be heard but not so much for a reprimand. I'm ready to say, ''I'll do it!'' but think I better stay quiet at least during my first day.

The word of the day, saugrenu, is given. The students guess at the definition. I have now moved from silent thanks to silent prayer: ''please don't call on me, please don't call on me, please don't call on me...'' Why didn't I bring a dictionary?!

Next up is a slice of English. A student walks to the front of the room and speaks slowly, carefully, ''Today is Monday. Yesterday was Sunday. Tomorrow is Tuesday.'' I want to shout Bravo! But I bite my tongue instead. That's it for English. My comfort zone is now over. (and my tongue hurts)

And then the lessons begin. I give silent thanks for erasers. I am making loads of errors and the pile of eraser bits is getting obvious on my desk. I'm sure the student in charge of desk cleaning this week is glaring at me.

While some of us worked on conjugating verbs, some played computer games and some took timed math quizzes. I was in the some conjugating verbs. The computer looked more fun and I wrote note to self: how do you get to play on computer and find out how to avoid math quizzes.

I will attend this class Monday through Friday, 9:00 - 10:45 am. I will learn French. I will learn what happens at age 50 when the hands of time are turned back...

Across the Pond and at Home

Time to catch up!

Here we are in the garden of John and Alison Stott -
ready to go to the wedding of
Dean Holly and Samantha Brown!

Thanks to Princess Anne for the hat!

Newlyweds Mr. and Mrs. Dean Holly

Mrs. Holly is wearing 5 inch heels. Seriously!
(or was it 6?)

Look at this lovely cake!
Rumor is the Bride does not like the traditional wedding fruitcake
- one of many reasons I adore her -
and consequently a layer or two is sponge (aka white) cake, yum!

Done just for ME!!!
(or not?)



Elsie celebrated 15 years
10 June
(cake baked with love and chocolate)





Our house is full of flowers
from the Little House garden!




My recent baking craze
includes
cinnamon cookies
(coordinating with the tiles. of course.)




and Tony has been busy making
apricot and raspberry jam!

Happy 100 Years

Elsie celebrated 100 Years!

8 April 2009

Whittlesea, Australia

Such a happy day! Elsie enjoyed her family and the flash of cameras and being interviewed by a local newspaper reporter. The day was also highlighted with letters from the Governor-General, the Prime Minister AND Queen Elizabeth! I suppose this means that Tony and I will have to stop by for a cuppa with Liz next time we cross the pond?

Elsie with her kids: Anthony, SiL Rob and Jan
(around my MiL you best not call Anthony Tony or she WILL whack you with her walking stick)

Elsie with her youngest great grandchild, Lila

and here she is with all her great grandchildren!

Blow out those candles!
What does one wish for at 100 years?

Cheers to you, Elsie!

La Maison Rouge nuit de musique

Here is the biggest celebrity I have ever met!
(other than cousins Pegsy & Steven and SiL Tommy of course)

I failed to get his autograph...BUT
what an honor to hear him at
La Maison Rouge nuit de musique!

Check this out:

http://www.myspace.com/wrenfordhoof

Elsie brought her fiddle!

John did some sleuthing on the 'net
to find Breton music.
Elsie and Wrenford were an awesome duo!

Now JoRo wants to learn the fiddle
and Elsie is enthusiastically teaching
(15 euros JoRo)

'k, I think JoRo is catching on

oui, look at that confidence!

Now Elsie has a go at the guitar

Excellent!

Hannah and I have a go at singing.

Well, Hannah sang
and I twirled the music book
and Wrenford was really super polite
when I tried to sing
and it was, shall I say, not-too-great.

Hannah, Anne, Wrenford, JoRo
Oh what a night!

Seriously

won't be long for that post! Stones, done. Sunday lunch with Mark, done. Just apero with Carole and Calamity and hopefully a chat with Min....then I'll be here! See you soonsoon.

Let Go

relax. The stones won. I am exhausted! Tomorrow more stones. Tonight I'll dream (more like nightmare) about piles of stones and heaping wheelbarrows and torn garden gloves and strained muscles GAH! I'll be back when the stones are lifted.......................

Still Hanging?

Rock Picking today. And I've only just recovered from the St Paddy's Rock Picking event! So. Tonight. Maybe just maybe I'll get caught up here. Until then, rock on.........................................

Hang On

Post coming soon! Wedding hats, music fest, 100th birthday...loads to tell and photos to post. It's a beautiful day in Brittany (of course JoRo is back in Wigan, ha!) and we're off to the Malestroit market and book exchange. See you soon......................

En fin !

We are now enjoying our breakfast OUTSIDE!
For those of you who note photo details,
that jar of Vegemite does not belong to me!

The stone patio and wood decking is nearly done!
A bit of finishing work to do
and of course additional flowers to come soon.

Our evenings have been here too.

Spring has definitely sprung!

An Irish Event

When I was a wee school girl, wearing green on St. Patrick's Day was a requirement. Irish or not, if green was not worn, you were sure to get pinched all day or take the dreaded smear of green paint across your face to save yourself from the incessant pinching. I never knew which was worse: the pinching or the paint. I guess I had some of that famous Irish luck because my mother always made sure I wore green. In fact she reminded me to wear green this year too. She's not even Irish!

This year I spent my St Patrick's Day with real Irish people! I mean, really, born there and everything! What a thrill! That is until I found out how Irish people entertain themselves on St. Patrick's Day.

No green apparel. No pinching. (that was good) No parades and, seriously, no green beer! No, instead they throw a Pick Up Our Garden Rocks Event. WHAT???? True, I kid not. And I have the photos to prove it!

Look at what we were picking up!

Brian began his rock picking up with some sort of dance.
Must be an Irish tradition.

Robin carefully raked.
I think I may have heard him hum Danny Boy.


Look at the crew! Nearly done!



Irish Stew?



As always, I wore green today.
But
next year
I'll drink green beer.

Cabaret à Domicile

and back by popular demand. Or just demand?

Thanks to all my blogger fans for your patience while
waiting waiting waiting for a post here!

This weekend we went to our first Cabaret à Domicile held in St Laurent. Musicians from all over the region came to perform in the homes and streets of St Laurent. Including Elsie!

These signs hung at the homes hosting the musicians

There was dancing in the streets

and Breton dancing for all!



It was great to see our friend Jean-Pierre.
His rock 'n roll was awesome!

Elsie is warming up...

and her performance was superb!

Here she might have been thinking, ''Put. The. Camera. Away.''

Elsie also performed Friday night at the pub in St Laurent.
Most of her performance was done ''by ear'', following along with the musicians.
What a delight to hear her fiddle!

2009

Wishing everyone a happy new year!

Fruitcake and Family

Major time zone differences and an ocean distance from family are perhaps the most difficult for me as an expatriate, particularly at this time of year. That, and fruitcake.


There was an occasion, prior to marrying my Australian-born-and-bred husband, when he stated intent to make fruitcake. I thought he was teasing. Seriously. Fruitcake? To eat? I never ate fruitcake. I don’t even remember seeing fruitcake. Although I think I saw a neighbor use it as a doorstop once. And I remember hearing a claim that fruitcake made a good boat anchor.


Rumor had it that one fruitcake circulated around America and had done so for a hundred years, maybe and likely longer. To the best of my knowledge, no one doubted the rumor. Mostly no one wanted that fruitcake. In America the fruitcake legend begins each December when people discuss where it is, who will receive it or how to use it. Eating it is never ever an option.


Unless of course an American (that’s me) has a wedding in Australia and the traditional wedding cake just happens to be fruitcake. Since we were married on April Fool’s Day, and not one but two fruitcakes were on the bridal table - they were large and round and I’m sure sort of staring at me - I naturally thought: ''joke''! I searched the room for the 'real' cake. Instead of seeing what I thought might be a four-tiered butter cream-frosted cake draped with vibrant sugar flowers, my eyes landed on my mother-in-law. She was looking at those cakes with great pride and stated the love and care she took in creating them. So, apparently not a doorstop or a boat anchor, my groom and I carefully cut through thick marzipan and I had my first taste of fruitcake. In that moment, still loyal to the fruitcake legend, I became a closet fruitcake fan.


This is a happy time of year for me. I look forward to sharing the same time zone on the same side of the ocean, in our French home with our American family. We will laugh about that lost fruitcake traveling aimlessly around America. We will generate new ideas for the use and function of fruitcake. And as everyone tucks into La Bûche de Noël, I will think of my mother-in-law and tidy the closet.

Half Full

Mom and Cy are now on their way back to Minnesota and I imagine they are:


1) relaxing comfortably on the plane
2) dining on fine cuisine
and
3) enjoying the USA Today newspaper


I have to imagine it this way because their trip to France included:


1) seats that did not recline AND located next to the toilets
2) rubbish food (at best)
3) no sleep (see 1 and 2)


Can we all give the raspberries to Northwest Airlines?

Never mind. We had a wonderful time! It didn't matter where we went or what we did, just being was the best! Cooler temps and rain - good ol' Brittany rain - simpy brought us next to the fireplace more often. Books were read and stories were told. We laughed a lot (note to Cy: do tell us when you take Mom to the bank, okay?) and we ate enough to shock Weight Watchers into an emergency meeting. We were together for my birthday (me me me!) and we celebrated Thanksgiving with some food from England but who knew? Who cared? Elsie decorated the Christmas tree with Grandma...two talented artists alone with tinsel and baubles...imagine that!

I must say a big hurrah and heaps of gratitude to all the family and friends of expats (especially MY family and friends because this is all about me really, isn't it?) for spending a ridiculous amount of money and long hours of travel to be with us.
I have many days as an expat when I feel the glass is half empty because my closest relationships are many miles and too many hours away from me. But - and it's what comes after the 'but' that counts - when family is here that glass is, indeed, Half Full.

Behind the Hammer

My impatience shows each time I hang a picture on the wall. By the time I have considered placement, angle, height and width - which takes way too long - I am beyond ready for the hammer and nail. To avoid numerous (inevitable though) holes in the wall, Tony will race for the ruler and pencil as soon as he realizes I'm ready to pound the wall.


It's always been better, for me, to use a hammer privately. I don't have the patience for a ruler, and I don't think my use of a hammer is good for Tony's heart rate.


One problem has been not having my own hammer. I always have to borrow Tony's hammer. Which brings us to Problem Number Two: Tony's hammer is either a) no where to be found or b) he is using it.


Years ago Tony gave me my own hammer and I was delighted! Until, that is, Tony kept taking it for his own use because a) his was no where to be found or b) someone else was using it.


Eventually my hammer was lost (?) and I was sad sad sad.


The other day I needed a hammer and, as usual, I went to the garage to get Tony's. It was, as usual, a) no where to be found.


Tony gave me a hammer for my birthday...Happy Birthday to Me! And while many women (or men) may not have liked a hammer for their birthday, I said hallelujah! The thought behind the hammer is lovely. There are nails to pound in the wall because I add or rearrange wall decor more often than I should admit. And that hammer, MY hammer, is a) going into hiding because b) it is MINE! Whoo-hoo!

Color Blind

Yesterday we had lunch hosted by French friends, along with two British and two French guests. Another Rule had to be broken: Do Not Speak Politics. How could I not? It was the day after the most exciting election in American history! Naturally I stated my joy about our President-elect. The French hosts raised their glasses and we all toasted Barack Obama. I thought this was awesome. And then a guest (British) seated next to me said, ''Obama is not black''. I was surprisingly well-behaved (I have Minnesota Nice roots) because I wanted to smack him a good one across the jaw but instead replied, what is he then? British guest said, ''He's American. When are you people going to be color blind? When can this not be about race?'' Whoa... not black and You People? Barely hanging on to my Minnesota Nice roots, I finished my glass of wine and responded:

America is celebrating the first, how would you like me to say this - Not Both Parents of White Skin (?) President-elect Barack Obama. Guest laughed and I continued:

Seriously. This is a tremendous event in our history. I can and I do feel proud that an enormous racial barrier has been broken. This is a monumental moment to celebrate. I think our President-elect demonstrates to America, and to the rest of the world, that we chose the best candidate for the presidency and that race did not prohibit his candidacy or his victory. You see, yes, it is about race and, no, it is not about race.

One day, perhaps in another generation or two, there will be a level of diversity in American government that will prompt people to wonder what it was like in 2008 when the FIRST African American became President.

Thanks for listening.


Oh look, my glass is empty. Please pass the white wine...it was made with black grapes. Cheers!

Yes We Can!

Obama: Our Victory

American Weekend

Kudos to Alexia! Please say with a slight Southern Belle accent for theatrical purposes: she's talkin' American now! Bravo to Me for not breaking The Rule. Much. Well, okay, here's the deal...I just had to say bah-oui a couple times. Right, maybe twenty times. Thirty. Who counted? I might have said merci occasionally. Then there was that time I said bonne nuit. Twice? ANYWAY. The entire weekend was fantastic! Alexia spoke or read or wrote or listened to American words, phrases and jargon for 3 days. YAY!

Alexia receiving her Certificate of Achievement:

Félicitations et bah-oui!

Do Not Speak French

I've been thinking all day about this weekend with our first immersion student, Alexia. Actually, I have being doing a countdown this week...hmmmm, perhaps I am overly eager? Okay, I started having some feelings of worry and doubt and then I heard Min say, ''Mom, would you scrape your esteem off the pavement, puh-lease?'' Scraped, done and dusted. By the way, when did she become the Mother?

The only rule I was given for the weekend: Do Not Speak French. um, can we all say FAT CHANCE? As if I'm going to speak French!Unless of course years of study suddenly kick in this weekend and I can't stop myself. You know how it is...you work hard at learning something and then CLICK, you ''get it'', it all makes sense. So now I'm thinking, please-don't-CLICK-with-French-just-yet. But it is highly likely I'll greet Alexia with my sing songy bonjour...can't help it, really I can't. bwah ha-ha!

Next post: all about our American Weekend - and find out if I followed that one rule...