The title is pronounced « ah-lay up! say par-tee » and it roughly means, « here we go. »
I hesitated about this title, knowing none of you would know what the heck it meant, but my original idea of titling the post « Giving » didn’t seem to work either, as it was besmirched with a false humility or a modest altruism which didn’t reflect how much we got back in return or how much fun we had in the process.
Nevertheless, our weekend was chock full of giving with lots of « allez-hops » along the way.
Friday night Sir and I spent a long time on the phone with a friend of ours who had questions about religion. It was a great talk, but we ended up going to bed later than planned, considering the weekend activities in store.
Saturday morning I had my usual two hours of English classes to give, which was rather challenging as I still had very little voice with which to curb the rambunctiousness of certain 8-year old boys.
When they left, I started preparing for our Thanksgiving feast, a tradition we started with some other families upon arriving in France six years ago. We only missed the year where I had given birth to Petit Prince a mere two weeks earlier. While the kids dressed up for the party,
I made sweet potatoes with nutmeg, green beans with shallots and roasted pecans, mixed broccoli and cauliflower with cheddar, and brownies.
Before going to the Thanksgiving feast, we stopped off at our friends René and Val, because it wasn’t far and because René was turning forty. We all know how important that is! The kids had fun.
Or not.
At 7, we finally made it over to our friends to eat Thanksgiving dinner. They live in a cool house from 1870. (I love old houses.)
The only thing to ruin our meal was this spoilsport.
(I’m teasing, Raph – I know you’re reading this) who had never eaten Thanksgiving before and kept exclaiming in horror, « But you’re not going to have more? How can you eat anymore! What’s wrong with you people?
Dessert too? How can you? Oh la la I’m going to explode» Lesson learned: don’t eat Thanksgiving with a french person.
It didn’t seem to help when I told her to just unbutton her pants.
This lady, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any problems fitting it all in.
The kids started to drift off,
Leaving euphoric moments of quiet cuddles for the mom.
And we finally left with a carload of sleeping children just in time to be in bed for midnight … only to get up the next day for our house church service, where we were hosting about 12 families.
Don’t throw stones at me, but I think Americans are really good at hospitality. We love to host big groups of people and prepare meals in bulk so everyone feels welcome. I think it’s in our blood, dating back to that very first Thanksgiving meal, which we prepared for the Native Americans.
Oh wait – that’s not how it went.
Anyway, I made 3 platters of fried chicken plus the brownies that I had made in double batch the day before. Everyone showed up in full force, bearing food and even gifts!
It was a really great afternoon. They stayed until about 5 (at our urging) and finished up the dishes for me as I was needed outside. Our head gardner, Olivier, had arrived to help us roll the grass down so that it would grow even thicker next Spring, and to show me how to drastically cut the lilac. Sir was outside as well trimming the hedges, and we all finally came in when it was too dark to continue. We had some tea with Olivier to warm up, and chatted while helping Young Lady with her homework.
It was truly non-stop all weekend long, but Sir still had a skype meeting to attend in the evening, so we were not even able to sit and talk about the weekend and decompress. In the end, we both just collapsed into bed (at different times) and slept the sleep of the dead. Or at least the sleep of the super exhausted.
And this morning we woke to this.
Calm, serene, beautiful, white.
The world in solemn stillness lay.
We quietly contemplated the sun rising over the snow-covered land as steam curled up from our hot coffee.
Actually that’s not how it went. We raced around trying to get the kids out the door on time, sparing time for an “ooh. Snow!” before it was “Allez-hop. C’est parti!”
Giving is so good for the soul, but it sure does the body in.
That looks like the most wonderful way to spend the weekend . . . good friends, good food, good conversation. Oh, and a beautiful layering of white. What more could we ask out of life?
So glad you had a lovely time. Thanks for sharing!
Ah, so nice!
Yes, we Americans really know how to stuff ourselves. Thank heaven it’s only once or twice a year!
Snow! What a pleasant surprise in the morning!
Your Thanksgiving dinner looks amazing, with plenty of reasons to feel grateful.
How utterly beautiful!
And it looks like you had a frantic, but fulfilling holiday. The best kind of holiday to have.
And yes, we Americans, I do believe are big hearted and generous when it comes to our hospitality. We are a land of welcome.
Thank you for those pics. They are just gorgeous.
Jennie! I am so glad you sent me the photos, that’s really nice. You’re such an amazing woman I want to know much better… And ya, I said all the things written here because I am a french girl 🙂
Love you,
Raphaëlle (good spelling american girl!)
Oh, what a dreamy life.
Just.dreamy.
Also: do you think this is where the American “alley=ooop” which mean, “come on,..” may come from???
Interesting, huh?
I never thought about it, but now I’m sure that’s where it comes from!
I love that even your sweet pup gets into the Thanksgiving spirit. A day for seconds and thirds indeed!
My French Uncle always says “allez hop”…I never thought about the meaning of it until I read your blog! Looks like you had a very busy/fun weekend!!!! We had the same snow experience in Syracuse, NY…“Allez-hop. C’est parti!”
Does sound like a dreamy Thanksgiving and the snow that followed:) Love the gorgeous pictures. How I would love to be a guest at one of your Thanksgiving Feasts!
Hey Jennie – looks like you had fun. Thanks for the photos and story – I liked this particular blog – stirred up all my feelings of gratitude that sometimes lay dormant when they should be out there over the top! This was the first year in the 10 years living in France that we celebrated Thanksgiving at our home – albeit with a bit of a french twist (turkey stuffed with chestnuts and armagnac from Picard) plus the home-made stuff so I didnt feel too lame. The Bronx, Long Island and Queens was “in the house” that day!! Imagine all of us in the sweet little town of La Garenne Colombes. 🙂 Beaucoup de bisous!!
I know what you mean about the “gratitude that lays dormant!” 🙂
What fun. Americans do love to cook and have others share with them. You’re right about that. I am happy you had such a good time. I love the pictures and the picture of the dog is so cute. I just want to take him home. The children have grown sooo much. Especially, Petite Lady. She is a perfect combo of the two of you.
The Empress said exactly the right thing, “what a dreamy life.” I so love these glimpses into your life in France and your welcoming, generous spirit.
And, you know I love that Petit Prince of yours.
Could I eat a Thanksgiving meal with someone who would not considering unbuttoning her pants? Not sure.
Hi there! I love your blog! I found it quite by chance but have spent an hour perusing it! I can so identify with you – yes, I do understand the French!! as I am half French myself but brought up English. And I am married to a Turkish gentleman and live in Istanbul!! But the things you write about really made me smile and remember how it was when I would spend a month at Easter every year avec les cousins français in Le Havre!!! Nobody would lift a finger to take you out or do anything special but the food was fabulous and the general atmosphere so different from home!
anyway, cheers and I will keep reading your hilarious blog!
Claudia
Hi Claudia – thanks for stopping by. We are good friends with a Turkish (he)-American (she) couple and have lots of laughs about their cultural differences (they have a great marriage, notwithstanding).