Monday, May 31, 2010

Au Revoir Dublin

not sober

Today is my last day in Dublin.

Tomorrow morning I'm on a plane to Marseille and headed back to Le Petit Village life (and regularly scheduled blog posts).

The Husband is excited, he doesn't do 'alone' very well. Since I've been gone, Baby Cousin, The Gypsy, and The Spaniard, have all slept over.

(can't you just see the pyjama party shenanigans; High School Musical sing-a-longs, feetsie jammies, and pillow fights galore!)

I fear Fifty has been very confused trying to figure out which one of the three house guests is his new mommy. Poor Fifty.
Note to self: no more solo trips over one week, it will save money on Fifty's psychotherapy.

Gotta go,

I need to say goodbye to Starbucks.


Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Happy Things

This time next week I will be on the plane en route to Marseille and back to life in Le Petit Village. I'm missing The Husband and Fifty. Ten days without my furry little angel cuddling up to me and The Husband's huffing and puffing has left me feeling a bit vacant. To combat that empty feeling happy thoughts are required. Luckily for me, Metropolitan Mom has passed The Happiness Meme my way...

(Rules: list 10 things that make you happy)

These are in no particular order and since loads of things make me happy, these ten just happen to be what's popped into my pub fermented brain today.

1. A martini in a chilled cocktail glass with extra olives. Being in Dublin these past ten days, and not in Le Petit Village, I've gotten to have my fair share of these. Happy days. Although my liver is currently sitting next to me looking a bit bleary eyed and smoking a cigarette. He said to say hi by the way (yes, my liver is a he).

2. Buying something (from the want not need list) loving it, and not feeling a hint of buyers remorse.

3. Reminiscing about the first time I met The Husband. It's a pretty good story and one day, when I feel I can do the story justice, I'll post about it.

4. Being with friends that I hardly ever get to see and having it seem like no time has passed. You know when you fall right back into conversation, no pauses, no awkwardness... that's when you know you're real friends, when you go months, and years without seeing each other but you're still as close as ever. Love that.

5. Little Niece and Niece when they are well rested, and not over sugared (although Niece did tell me the other day that it was always about me, and never about her. Quite insightful for an eight year old).

6. Strolling around Dublin (or Paris, Manhattan, or London), Starbucks in my hand, without any time constraints on a sunny day (and plenty of cash in the wallet to buy all those wants).

7. Being able to follow a conversation in French. Which I'm sure after 17 days away will be difficult for me. You should have seen me sitting around the dinner table at Papa's house after the week in the States, I was a mute imbecile.

8. Date night with The Husband when he gets all spiffy and lets me do his hair. He's quite the hottie. I'm still trying to figure out how we ended up together, especially since the girls he dated before were all about ten years younger than me, bubbly, blonde, and fake boobed. You know the type. Think opposite of me.

9. Fifty, right after he's had his bath.

10. Helping people. Here's something you probably didn't know about me, I do a bit of charity work. I'm a do-gooder. There I said it. I'm a do-gooder and I love it. I'm a firm believer that everything you put out into the world comes back to you three fold. So considering all my do-gooding, I should be winning the lottery any minute now... any minute...

My turn to ask!

What makes you happy?


Saturday, May 22, 2010

Forgive and Forget

Check out this sign outside an electronics store in Dublin...


Looks like the Irish are still a tad pissed about that whole Thierry Henry handball thing (click here).


Who, us? 



Wednesday, May 19, 2010

A Little Run Down

I'm tired, dehydrated, my wallet is weeping and my liver is crying. Much too tired to type anything even remotely witty, but I'm going to give it a go anyway with a little run down of what I've been up to.

Sunday was spent as planned except the wine bar was switched for the local pub. Pints of Heineken galore! 

And at Sunday lunch, I had my blow dried hair put into a ponytail with a very chic tissue hair bow fashioned by Little Niece (she's my best friend by the way and every time she tells me that I melt. Literally melt, and then my womb jumps a little bit to an obnoxious and deafening tick tock sound). 

I'm mean really, is there anything more chic than a tissue hair bow? Height of sophistication, I almost didn't want to take it out. Almost. 

Besides that awesome 'Welcome Back' sign made by Little Niece and Niece, this had also been taped to the wall...

How can you not just want to squeeze the cuteness right out of them?  

Cute as they may be, it still didn't stop their mother and I from going down to the pub and sucking back all those pints. 

Groggy on Monday I made my way around the shops in the city and reacquainted myself with my old favorite Zara where I bought these bad boys... 

Perfect for walking Fifty, don't you think?

Met my Brotherman for a coffee (ok, I had a Bloody Mary) and then a late lunch with Uncle at his hangout Toddys.  

From Toddy's  I went to a friends for dinner and she whipped out some champagne to celebrate my wedding (refusing would have been rude). And she had a present for me! (I've actually gotten loads of presents since being here, which is such a surprise, when you run off and get married you basically forfeit your right to presents. My friends and family rock). 

Tipperary Crystal candlesticks...

Beautiful, heavy, and a fantastic weapon... 

Sara Louise, in the library with the candlesticks.


Sunday, May 16, 2010

The Haps In Dublin on Sunday

Warning... Warning... Warning...

This won't be interesting at all.

I'm awake early and without Fifty and The Husband hovering, I've found myself twiddling my thumbs a bit. I'm speaking (writing, whatever) to you my Peeps to keep me entertained.

This is what I've got going on today, it's so very different from my new life and a perfect snapshot of my old life.

Today, Sunday, a date with myself and my elusive lover named Starbucks. I will then stroll through shops with my lover in hand and make my way to Boots, where I will spend a ridiculous amount of time looking at beauty products, and then to Marks and Spencer's where I will spend a ridiculous amount of time looking at the nicely packaged pre-prepared food. After spending a ridiculous amount of money on stuff I don't need, I'll go to a salon and have my hair blow dried. A lovely treat after months of having it done Le Petit Village style, aka, me doing it myself (badly).

My hair beautifully done in that bouncy, bouncy, look at me way, I will then proceed to my Auntie's house for a family barbecue. Or, alternatively, if it rains, normal Sunday lunch.

I may have to take notes for a study on Sunday lunches; France vs Ireland (who is the champion of Sunday lunches? Only an iron cage match can decide!!! Sorry, I think that probably was funnier in my head).

This evening (if bored and restless) I will try to round up a friend or two to meet me at my favorite French wine bar (which oddly enough is in Dublin and not France) to share a carafe or two and a plate of cheese. I'd bet on the two carafes because I'm not waking up early tomorrow to go to work at that bank that's going under.

That's me today.

It's good to be home.

But I do miss Fifty. 

Oh, and The Husband too.

Sara Louise

P.S. Last night, my mother informed me that while she loves my blog (a maternal obligation) she noticed that at times I use 'no' when it should be 'know', or 'to' when it should be 'too', or 'threw' when it should be 'through' (you get my drift). I apologise to you my Peeps for my sloppy and lazy grammar and I offer to you the same excuse I offered last night; most of my blogging is done between 5 and 6am, it's a difficult hour to edit yourself when your caffeine drip is only kick starting. I promise to be more diligent in the future.
Happy Mother? Happy?

P.S.S. Sorry my signature is wonky. I'm posting from my mother's computer and it's not cooperating.
Need. My. Mac.

Friday, May 14, 2010

A Walk with Papa's Wife

Peeps, you would have been so proud of me!

Last Sunday we went for lunch at Papa's house, and stuffed to the gills afterwards, Papa's Wife suggested that we go for a walk.

We as in me and she.

One and a half hours out and about and moi speaking French without anyone to help. I was conversing, and not in little words here and there, but actually forming sentences, not grammatically correct I'm sure, but who cares! French sentences were coming out of my American mouth!


And I took some photos of the beautiful Saint Michel l'Observatoire to share with my peeps (aka you).

Because there is an astronomy center in Saint Michel, walking along you'll come across different signs with astrological tidbits on them like this one...

This one said something about The Royal Society and London and Newton. Sorry I wasn't paying more attention, I was too busy speaking in French. 

The sky was too cloudy to get a photograph of The Observatory in the distance so I ganked this one off the internet for you...

I know that it's a highly regarded center of science and learning and all but it still looks like something in a sci-fi movie where naughty experiments are taking place. 

We'll leave my paranoia for a moment and continue on.

Follow the sign to the 12th Century Church of Saint Michel...

The super cool looking door to the church... 

Kind of looks like Robin Hood might burst through doesn't it?  Notice the ancient and creepy steps.

Side door entrance...

Steps not as creepy on this side.

That's it, a little tour around Saint Michel. 

There were some other photos but they aren't very good at all and definitely not worthy of you my peeps. 

Once again, too busy speaking French.


P.S. Tomorrow I leave for Dublin for 17 days. Starbucks here I come!

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Animals I like To Make Fun Of

Le Petit Village is like a petting zoo. Dogs are out and about unleashed at all times and we are overrun with feral cats (my mother would die, just die if she saw them - not a cat fan). We are in desperate need of Bob Barker and his spaying and neutering ways.

And these cats aren't cute cats that you would consider taking home for a cuddle, these things are some of the ugliest cats ever seen. They look like they have survived some sort of nuclear disaster. There is one (who has been alluding me as I've been stalking the village with my camera) that is mostly black, with beige bits here and there, and with a half beige face. From far away he looks like half of the fur on his face has been blown off and his little kitty skin is out. Not a good look on a cat. (Really wish I had a picture of this one, sorry).

And then the dogs;  all of them are allowed out without a chaperone (except Fifty, poor Fifty, his mommy goes with him everywhere. The other dogs probably make fun of him. Now I feel bad). They chase tourists cars running and barking behind. They are the anti-welcome wagon.

Then there's this horse who is always lying down... 

How lazy can you be horse? What are you taking a break from? Your busy day of standing?

And these sheep here...

I like to yell things at them while driving by (only while driving, if I was out walking they might chase me and that would be scary) Like.. "you're all food, I'm going to eat you!"

But this here bear...

Sugar Bear, well he's too cute to make fun of.

He was given to me (I have know idea why I think Sugar Bear is a boy but we are going to go with that) by Bonnie at The Muse30. Bonnie is an aspiring author and while her blog deals with many entertaining daily life tidbits, lately, she's letting us into her novel writing process more and more which is a treat; story boards, index cards, outlines. It's inspiration for that novelist inside each of us.

I now bestow Sugar Bear and The Beary Sweet Blog Award to Mimi at Bonjour Romance. If you love Paris and romance, then Mimi's blog is for you. She'll put a little ooh la la in your life!

Oh, and if any of you guys see some PETA people, 

mums the word on the whole, "I'm going to eat you" thing.


Monday, May 10, 2010

Come And Find Me

A villager taped this sign to their front door...

'Delivery, I am in the village.'


Sometimes, I really love village life.


Sunday, May 9, 2010

New Home Hunting Take 2

Potential Home 2...

Like the first house we looked at, this one was also twenty minutes down the road and on the way to Papa's house. Anything close to Papa's house is a bonus. I like spending time there. Papa's Wife is one of the few people I can communicate in French with, because she speaks oh so slowly to me. The woman must have a great deal of patience. Bless her.

We pulled up outside. First problem with it was obvious immediately, it was next to a school. That could be annoying. Little chirpy voices and such.

Where Potential Home 1 had a garage that was a black hole into the abyss that I almost killed myself falling into, this one had a garage that replaced the front door. No front door! It's a garage door! Is that how you want to walk in and out of the house everyday? No. Of course The Husband didn't have a problem with this.

Walking into the garage, you turned right and into a nice entry with a gorgeous rock wall. Why couldn't they have just put a front door there? That would have made all the difference. Poppycock!

Up the staircase we went and into a large open living room/ dining room/ kitchen with high ceilings. It was looking very promising except for that whole garage door entry thing.

The bathroom was next to the kitchen and it had just been redone, very modern and clean. And the kitchen was actually a decent size.

But then we hit another snag. The bedroom was a loft above the living room. Where the living room had all the ceiling space, the bedroom's ceiling was made for hobbit sized people which we are not. Also, no closets and not much room to put clothes.

The Husband's response to the clothes storage problem, "You can put the clothes downstairs."

"Um, ok. No." Looney tunes.

Potential Home 2 was looking less and less promising; the garage entry door, hobbit bedroom, and the staircase up to the loft had no banister. No banister on a skinny staircase; once again, we're facing a wine related disaster.

They brought us back downstairs through the garage to another room behind it. Who designed this place? So there's another room, potentially another bedroom or office but it's behind the garage? That's poppycock!

(I'm loving the word 'poppycock' at the moment).  

The room behind the garage was a nice size and had built in closets. It would make a much better bedroom than the loft, but why oh why do you have to walk through the garage to get there? Poppycock!

And then, we were brought to the back garden, through the only door to get there; in that room behind the garage. The layout of this place is less than convenient.

The view was breathtaking. Like really beautiful. That type of view that you can stare out at in the morning with a cup of coffee and watch the sunrise or a glass of wine in the evening as the sun sets and just stare in awe and count your lucky stars that you are one of the blessed people lucky enough to have that view. And while I was standing there admiring that beautiful view, a mosquito bit me in the face.

Well that's not a good omen.



Friday, May 7, 2010

Huffing and Puffing

You know how I'm always going on about The Husband's Gallic huffing and puffing, and how it doesn't take much to set it off.

Like how he huffs at the grocery store or when doing anything he doesn't like or when he has to wait even the slightest amount of time for something (patience is not his virtue). And when we flew to the states the whole journey was basically one big huff and puff.

Well according to him, it's not his fault.

The Husband phoned me from work this morning after hearing something on the radio. Someone actually took the time to study huffing and puffing in different cultures.


 "It's not my fault I'm puffing." (his English sentence structure, not mine)

"Really, why is that?"

"France are the biggest puffers in the world." (again, I'm quoting him)

"I'm not surprised."

"And the second, Italy. You see, it's not my fault I'm puffing." (It really is adorable, isn't it?)

The Husband is half French and has one Italian grandmother so I guess he has an excuse now, he's genetically predisposed to it. 

I'm imaging my future child, 

a little huffing and puffing monster.

Can't wait.


Wednesday, May 5, 2010

New Home Hunting Take 1

The Skippie Team (aka, The Husband, Monsieur Fifty, and me) is looking for a new home.

Since our current cozy little abode was The Husband's before I moved in, it's a fine size for one single man, kind of big enough for the two of us, but you throw an ever growing Fifty into the mix, my shoe collection, and an occasional house guest, and forget about it.

(Not to mention The Husband's weight bench is in the living room... no where else to put it... have you ever tried decorating around a weight bench?)

Home hunting is beginning to be a bit of an ordeal so naturally I should be posting about it. Let you in on the joys of dealing with real estate agents in the south of France (and if any French real estate agents are reading this, well I'm sure you are a lovely hard working person and please do not take anything I say seriously. Because I don't).

We're pretty flexible about what we're looking for...

A two bedroom (one bedroom will do if it and the rest of the home is large) house or an apartment with a terrace or small garden (no point in living in Provence if you can't sit outside... once the rain stops that is).

And that's that. See, told you I was flexible.

Potential Home 1...

About fifteen minutes down the road from where we are now, and heading in the direction of Papa's house, so that's good.

The Husband came home from work and we headed off. On the way I asked him if the house had a garden. He said he didn't know. Then I asked him if it was one or two bedrooms. He said he didn't know. Then I asked him if he knew what time wasting was. Joking.

(actually I'm not, but I didn't want to seem mean).

Seriously. I asked him why he didn't ask because what was the point if it was one small bedroom and no terrace or garden. Get this... he actually mumbled something about the agent phoning him, and him not being able to hear because he was driving and the window was down. So I asked him if he thought about rolling up the window. He started to mumble something again. I gave him that one eyebrow up, wife look, and he cracked, admitting that he hadn't asked anything at all.

Because why would you even bother?

"Sure go ahead, show me everything you've got, including the twenty room villa with the vineyard and tennis courts."

(I mean what type of an excuse is that? The whole window open thing, ridiculous. The Husband is a horrible liar but I guess, that's a good thing).

We pulled up and from the outside and not too shabby. It was a creamy yellow stucco, and looked new.
(Which is strange when it's wedged in between centuries old houses on both sides. How do they manage to do that when all the houses look like they are connected? Clearly a question for another time, unless anyone reading this knows the answer...).

And it seemed nice inside. New dark tiled floors, fresh paint and lots of windows.

But one small bedroom (with no closet and not much space for an armoire) that you had to walk through to get to the garage, which in itself is like a death trap. Not joking. I opened a door to what I thought was a closet and there was just black open space. It's like having your very own black hole into the abyss.

Right after I almost plummeted to my death, the agent came over and turned on a light to reveal a very steep and small rickety ladder-like stairs that bring you down to the garage. Well, that won't do at all. That's a big ol' accident just waiting to happen. A few too many glasses of wine and oops! Game over.

Plus, the open plan living room, dining room kitchen upstairs would be way too small once furniture, Fifty, and a weight bench was moved into it.

Oh, and no garden or terrace.



Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Might As Well Be In Dublin


The weather forecast in Le Petit Village is predicting rain for the next ten days.



Ten days.

And you know what's happening at the end of the ten days of rain?

I'm flying to Dublin.



Sunday, May 2, 2010

Spreading Some Sunshine

Aren't I lucky?

Not only did I receive the Sunshine Award from Jersey at Jersey and the Monkey, but Flower Jane at Small But Charming passed it on to me as well.

Now it's my duty to spread the sunshine...

(I always love this part, I feel like I have been given some cosmic sword and I'm doing that shoulder tap thing. And since it's cosmic, you can't accidentally nip someones ear off. Bonus.)

Back to the bestowing...

Debby Lee at Inspired Designs. This blog has loads of gorgeous photos that make me ooh and aah and want to go shopping and redecorate the house. So naturally, The Husband is not a fan (no offense Debby Lee, but he doesn't like anything that makes my Maisons du Monde shopping list any longer than it already is).

Habebi at The Constant Search For More. I love this. Habebi is a fun Francophile living in Tulsa and competing in Irish dance competitions.
France, Oklahoma, Ireland. what's not to love, it's like IHOB over there. Plus, she has two dogs whose trail of destruction would make Fifty proud.

And finally, there's Lori at Third Times The Charm.
Lori, Lori, Lori.... Lori's profile location is currently, 'In a Van, United States.' No, Lori is not homeless, she is touring the US with her boyfriend and his band. And when they are not relying on the kindness of strangers (re: groupies), they sleep in the van. Lori's blog makes me feel two very conflicting emotions. 1. I read and laugh, relating her adventures to some of my own misspent youth (and it wasn't that long ago) but then 2. causes my increasing maternal nature to freak out and shout, 'no no no!' at some of the scrapes she's finding herself in on her travels. Ah youth, I knew you when.

Thanks Jersey and Jane for the Sunshine.

I'm honored that you thought of me

and take the time to read all my inane drivel.

Cosmic sunshine back at ya.


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