Monday, February 28, 2011

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.


So funny I almost snorted a little couscous out my nose.



Sunday, February 27, 2011

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) 


Thursday, February 24, 2011

pillow fight




I won.


Tuesday, February 22, 2011

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?



Monday, February 21, 2011

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.


Friday, February 18, 2011

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?


Tuesday, February 15, 2011

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.



Sunday, February 13, 2011

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)

Saturday, February 12, 2011

language lessons

In my last French class, I learned all about la réciprocité (example; Nicolas Sarkozy déteste Ségolène Royal. Ségolène Royal déteste Nicolas Sarkozy. Nicolas et Ségolène se detestent). Interesting, no? Sure. But let's take a look at what The Husband is listening to on his English language lesson CD:

(Please note: This is an advanced English CD which from listening to, is obviously geared towards people who will be traveling to America. Also, I swear on my shoes that I have not made any of this stuff up. I have copied the text verbatim from the CD. Besides, I honestly don't think I could have imagined this little cultural lesson, even if I tried.)

"If you see an officer behind you with his lights flashing, that usually means he wants you to pull over."


"Don't try to run away because he'll go after you and call in more officers to help him catch you."

That doesn't sound scary at all.

"Whatever traffic law you broke, running from a police officer will make it worse and could get you killed in the process."

W T F ???

"Don't just jump out of the car because the officer may think you have a gun."

Um, OK.

"In the U.S., you should not try to give the officer some money so he won't giver you a ticket. Bribing a police officer is very illegal and you could go to jail if you try."

Good to know.

I believe this portion of the lesson is entitled, "Running from the Po-Po."

(I may have made that last bit up)


Wednesday, February 9, 2011

foux da fa fa

Bonjour... your groovylicious French lesson for the day. Enjoy.

je voudrais un croissant

mdr (lol)


Tuesday, February 8, 2011

if you want to know... I spent my birthday, it went like this: I woke up at my usual before dawn hour (I'm an early bird, never have got that worm though) and my mother skyped me from Texas to sing happy birthday. She has sung happy birthday to me on the phone every year for as long as I can remember (whether I'd like her to or not). This was the first time via skype.  I may prefer it via telephone, slightly less cringe worthy. (This is one of those family traditions that I pretend to hate but if it ever stopped I'd be really sad).  Then I made myself a ham, egg & cheese breakfast sandwich trying to replicate the deli breakfasts of my youth. But it's not the same without a hard roll and The Poughkeepsie Journal. Fail.

After my breakfast sandwich fail I decided to treat myself to some online shopping. I scanned through (international delivery, I love you so) and put loads of stuff in my basket, before deciding on the far more practical Larousse Gastronomique over on Amazon. (I hate how practical I've become, I want to be frivolous just one time. I have know idea when I became such a Puritan. Although I doubt a Puritan would spend €50 on a cookbook even if it's the biggest bestest cookbook ever).

And because I was feeling so Puritanical, I mopped the floor. And then again an hour later after Fifty tracked muddy paw prints all over it. Guess that was my present from Fifty (since I'm still waiting on a card or something). Thanks Fifty.

After all my hard work (not really but whatever, it was my birthday) I spent the afternoon watching  Downton Abbey marvelling at the wonder that is Dame Maggie Smith, while sipping a bowl of hot chocolate and extra marshmallows. And since I couldn't be that lazy (being a Puritan and all), and knowing that idle hands make the devils work, I gave myself a manicure with this:

And then picked out an outfit for dinner while Fifty and I danced to the Black Eyed Peas (Fifty loves that Dirty Bit song). Since The Husband was taking me to dinner at Lupin Blanc (which if you ever find yourself near, you have to try... and of course phone me up and I'll join you) I picked out a shirt I haven't worn since my Dublin days. It looks pretty much like this:

(Please note the high buttoned up collar; re: puritan) And since I wore dark blue jeans too, that photo could practically be me except with a few more pounds stuck on, and different nail polish too.  

So at Lupin Blanc we picked a table right next to the fire place and I ordered ravioli in creamy calvados truffle sauce. Heaven. Heaven in my mouth. It was so good, I even took a doggy bag home (in France, sacré bleu!). And while I was enjoying my ravioli and wine, some people sat down at the table next to us,  and one of the people turned out to be my doctor (which isn't uncomfortable at all having a doctor whose seen your bits and pieces eating a few feet away from you). But then I had a Manzana digestif and then another one after that and then I really didn't care anymore about that doctor who had seen my bits and pieces.

And then when we got home, because I had that extra Manzana, I really didn't want any of that nice Champagne The Husband had bought me for my birthday.  But the the next morning, I had some for my breakfast along with the rest of my ravioli.  

Waste not want not.

See, Puritan like. 


Sunday, February 6, 2011

style: birthday addition

Not only did Linda from oeke design blog pass on the Stylish Blogger Award to me (many thanks Linda) she updated the award badge to this round, fun, fuchsia, button you see before you. Very snazzy.

And since I just did one of these (I'm truly blessed with the style) and because it's my birthday (a couple of days ago but whatever) I'll make this Stylish Blogger Award a *special birthday addition*. So instead of only telling you about seven things, I'm going to tell you about seven six of my most memorable birthdays (how excited are you??).
My brother and I both have February birthdays so when we were little we had a few combined parties. When I was three and my brother was six (it could have been four and seven), we had a sleep over and watched Star Wars. But since this was before the VCR days (yes, I'm that old) my parents rented a movie projector and Darth Vader was beamed onto my living room wall. How cool is that?

My tenth birthday was an ice skating party at Rockefeller Center. Here's the good back story; there was this gorgeous man from Chile who worked for my mother. He was in his twenties and looked like Omar Sharif, I had a huge crush on him, completely oblivious to the fact that 1) I was a child, and 2) he wasn't straight. No matter, he was wonderfully dreamy and when I asked him to come to my little (but yet still fabulous) ice skating party, he accepted. The night before, he had gone out on the town, passed out on the subway home, and woke up to find his wallet had been stolen, and didn't have time to go home and change if he didn't want to be late to my little, fabulous, ice skating party (a lesser man would have blown it off). He ice skated with a group of screaming ten year old girls, hungover, mugged, and in a day old Armani suit. What a sport. (He's still gorgeous, and I still have a crush on him. Thankfully, his husband doesn't mind).

We had brunch at Tavern on the Green followed by the matinee of Cats for my fifteenth birthday. I'm not sure if it was all the food we ate, or just if Cats was that boring, but my mother, godmother, best friend, Bun, and me, all fell asleep during it. And why my mother, a women who detests cats, would subject herself to an afternoon of people dressed like them, creeping around the audience is beyond me.

My Sweet 16 was dinner at The Essex House with a chocolate cake covered in perfect layers of raspberries and a birthday card made out of white chocolate. But I was sick. I couldn't enjoy anything, even the glass of Champagne my mother was letting me have because I felt that terrible. And she didn't believe me! She thought I was being a brat and pouting because my gorgeous Omar Sharif lookalike had the flu and couldn't make it. It wasn't until the end of the meal when she finally felt my forehead and realized I was burning up... H E L L O! No 16 year old girl is going to pass up a glass of Champagne unless she is sick. Fact.

There's not much I can say about my 21st birthday because I don't remember much. It was spent in College Station, Texas and involved a shot called a Bloody Flaming Frogs Ass. That's pretty much it. Game over.

My 30th was spent in NYC and was A W E S O M E. I won't go into much detail because it was with my ex-boyfriend and I don't want to incur the huffing puffing wrath of The Husband. So instead of expanding, I'll do bullet points *The Essex House hotel (the same hotel where I spent my sweet 16, it was a nice full circle kind of moment)* *kir royals (lots and lots and lots)* *museums* *Central Park* *shopping* *The Monkey Bar* and *King Cole Bar (for drinks with my Omar Sharif lookalike and his ridiculously handsome husband, see, full circle)*

Champagne Blonde

Fit With Flash

Indigo's Sugar Spectrum

Ooh La La an English Demoiselle

Tanya in Transition

Would you fifteen five bloggers like to tell me seven things? 

(they don't have to be about birthdays)

(unless you want to have a full circle kinda moment)


Wednesday, February 2, 2011

international week of awesomness

Do you ever have one of those blessed weeks? Like when it feels like the heavens part and angels are raining down sunbeams just for you? Well I have. It's been one of those weeks (and before you think it, or ask it, there is no bun in my oven). Thanks in part to Becs, Aidan, and Sophie, this birthday week has been a wonderful one. You ladies really know how to make a girl feel special. And it's not over yet! 

Tomorrow is my birthday, aka International Day of Awesomeness, and since I age backwards (actually I've been holding at 29) this is the year The Husband and I turn the same age. Next year he'll be older than me. It's funny how that works, isn't it?

And in honor of I.D.A., I will share with you my birthday wish (it's a doozy); I wish for safety, and democracy for everyone. I wish for everyone to have access to clean water, affordable health care, and education. And I wish for the right for everyone to go to school to get that education even if they happen to be a girl (and if you are reading this and you are part of the Taliban, please note that you are an insecure, cave dwelling, dickhead. Let the girls go to school).  I wish for dictators to have the wisdom to know when to call it a day (your moment in the sun is over, move along please) so that peaceful protests can remain peaceful and not simmer into frustration fueled violence. And while I'm wishing, I'd also like a pink pony.

There, that's not too much to ask for now is it?


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