For me, 2012 feels like the fastest year that there ever was, and that scares me. They always say that the older you get, the faster time flies by, well that is certainly true and I'm certainly freaked out. I'd love to go back to being nine when every year seemed to inch by at a snail's pace... long stretches of time to count off between my birthday and then summer vacation before the long wait onto Christmas. Now, I barely have to blink before another year has gone (and another grey hair has arrived... what's that all about?!).
So since it's officially Veille du Jour de l'An, it's time to bid a proper farewell to 2012. May it rest in peace.
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2012 kicked off rather sadly for me, we were only a couple of days in when I found out that dear, sweet, stalking Vicky had passed away, leaving me rather sad and Fifty lonely for his friend.
But life moves on and luckily I had somethings to distract me, like gloating over a rugby win in my jammies and Honey Jr saving me from my own stupidity. I regaled you with tales of my affinity for Gypsies (although I never did make it to that pilgrimage), how I cooked something that The Husband actually hated (omg... it turns out that there is something that The Food Whore actually doesn't like to eat!!!) and surprise... we ate more cheese!
February began cold and covered in snow, which of course meant 4-wheelin and sledding with Fifty in tow. And then it was the most wonderful day of the year... my birthday, and it was so cold, I practically froze my hiney off while having to repeatedly, blow dry frozen pipes outside my house thanks to an icy mistral, but it was nothing that a little Pride & Prejudice and Kir Royals couldn't cure.
My birthday was celebrated in the most uncoordinated, SNAFU sort of ways but it all worked out in the end and was made even extra special by a present given to me by RoRo and the French Rugby team.
After my birthday, The Husband was struck down by the awful grippe that was making it's way around France and every five minutes he would declare, "I die soon" (I barely held onto my sanity through that one and what did I get for my trouble... my very own case of the flu).
We managed to shake off the germs in time to celebrate La Petite's first birthday and a Hotel California-like trip to Toulon.
In April it seemed like everyone in Le Petit Village had a birthday, first, La Croupier had a surprise flashmob to celebrate her 30th and then Gatz turned thirty as well with not one, but two parties. To escape all of the birthday madness, I went to Aix to see Mrs. London and my friend, Zara.
After Aix, there was one more birthday, Honey's Honey turned a whole 24 years old (I bet she doesn't have that grey hair problem) to distract us from all of the French presidential brouhaha that commenced in a Hunger Games-esque type fashion (no, they did not battle it out to the death, although that's an interesting idea... ).
In May something big happened in The LPV, we left it. Sure we left it with what seemed like trip after trip to Toulon, but we really left it when we moved to the all new Le Petit Village (a whole six miles down the road and through the forest away).
Summer began with a pig roast (the most disgusting of disgusting pig roasts), and lots of unpacking and adjusting to my new surroundings (omg... my kitchen has drawers and cabinets!!!).
But even though we were happy in our new home, we still missed Le Petit Village and Les Villagers so we returned for a bbq and Pétanque at Honey Jr's followed by some hay bale rolling fun (if you have never rolled hay bales through a small mountain village in France well then you are definitely missing out... go ahead and add it to you Bucket List immediately).
Lots of other marvelous things happened in June... The Husband turned thirty, we spent the weekend in Avignon to recuperate, Honey Jr and Brother-in-Law's 'Brazil Day' was exported to another village (one even smaller than The LPV), The Husband's step-grandma turned 90 (and I schooled some Marseillais in Pétanque), La Petite was baptized (with some of the congregation dressed as extras from My Big Fat Gyspy Wedding) and I let you in on a big, big secret.... The Husband's name is Gregory (and not in fact, Grégoire as some might think).
As summer does tend to pass by in the blink of an eye, it wasn't long before it was the dog days of August, and another Brazil Day (this one back in the original LPV). August was so hot that I found a frog hanging out on my living room wall desperately trying to escape the heat. But thankfully as September rolled in, the heatwave broke just in time for la rentrée and the arrival of my mother & co for our staycation.
And what a staycation it was, we were here, there, and everywhere (Avignon, Gordes, Cassis, Saint-Rémy and Les-Baux-de-Provence, and Aix).
When the Staycation came to a close and my visitors returned to the States, Autumn arrived and with it more friends. Texan Sarah came for a weekend with her husband and we were back to Marseille and Cassis again and since heaven forbid we let the grass grow under our feet, off to Toulon we were for some more rugby and mischief, this time, bringing Mr & Mrs London home with us so they could attend Child Bride's 'F Halloween party'.
And then oh my heavens how in the name of Snooki did it turn into November so quickly?! November is full on hunting season in Le Petit Village so Papa's Wife, The Husband and me formed our own little anti-hunting club consisting of long Sunday lunches and afternoon movie sessions. But we did have to abandon Papa's Wife for a Thanksgiving weekend in Toulon, where Fifty met his cousin Napoleon, and I came face to face with the Grinch that stole Thanksgiving.
With December comes winter and in Le Petit Village, winter means one thing... Raclette. And for the first time ever, Le Raclette was hosted by Gatz in his spanking new apartment. Clearly impressed by his hosting skills, Gatz was adamant that we come over for a Tartiflette as well even though The Husband told him over and over again that we were staying home to decorate our Petit Sapin de Noël.
And that's basically it. December flew by with the arrival of my mother, another trip to Toulon for another Raclette and some rugby, we went to Aix to see the Christmas lights and I impersonated one of Santa's Little Helpers, we celebrated Christmas and St. Stephen's Day (haven't told you about those yet... ) and here I am... sitting in my new Christmas jammies, waiting for Mrs. London to let me know if she and Mr. London will be joining us this evening, and counting down the hours left in 2012.
T-minus 12 hours and 56 minutes left to go.
P.S. Tonight I will be toasting to all of you dear friends. Cheers to each and everyone of you and may your 2013 be full of everything your heart desires, but mostly, may it be full of good health, happiness and love.