Sir and I decided that this was the year we were going to live dangerously. We were given an unexpected date night on Christmas because my mother-in-law wanted to take the two older kids hiking, along with her other grandchildren (all of my parents are way more fit than I am – my mom does Zumba, my dad hikes in… Read More
How do you combat the distressing, dispiriting process of . . . chucking the tree? Why, you organize a hunt for chocolate ornaments! High up so that the dog can’t get them. Rules of Engagement: All’s fair in love and chocolate. And we’re off! Woah! What was that? Hey! Body slam! (I preferred this picture to the non-blurry one where… Read More
To “train the dog” is “dresser (dress-ay) le chien” in French. And it’s a long, long (unlooked-for) process to have a nice obedient dog that is dressé. You have this cuteness and this. And then you have this. Christmas takes on a whole new meaning when you have a puppy. I was optimistic that with a name like Hunter, we would… Read More
The crèche Santons from Provence is famous in France. Crèche means “Nativity Scene,” and it’s also the word used for “daycare.” Before attending Maternelle, Petit Prince used to go to crèche. It’s pronounced cresh. The notion of the crèche started with St Francis in the early 13th century in Italy. He constructed a live nativity scene in the mountains, which… Read More
As I was writing my last post on feeling Bereft, the morning light streamed into the living room, casting various articles within my view in an unearthly gleam – the wooden dinosaur on the shelf, the crumbs on the end of the table, the glass on the shelving unit that stashed old tea cups. (Let me just add here that… Read More
When I set out to post something this morning, I found that I’ve been a bit bereft of words lately. Or maybe not bereft of words – there are always words – maybe bereft of emotions, of tears for lives lost, of feelings of worth. And where there is no passion to breathe into them, words are empty and meaningless…. Read More
