Dreaming of France -- Old Haunts and Old Friends

Please join this weekly meme. Grab a copy of the photo above and link back to An Accidental Blog. Share with the rest of us your passion for France. Did you read a good book set in France? See a movie? Take a photo in France? Have an adventure? Eat a fabulous meal or even just a pastry? Or if you're in France now, go ahead and lord it over the rest of us. We can take it.

Happy, but exhausted.
For the first time since I received my Fitbit for my birthday last year, I had a couple thousand steps in by the time I went to bed last  night. That's because I went to Aix en Provence and went to meet with my old friend Delana.
I met Delana from her blog. She was a 50-year-old woman who had gotten divorced and moved to France. It was supposed to be for a year, but she was hooked and hasn't gone back to Minnesota, eight years later.
Delana has lots of energy and many friends, so it's always fun to connect with her.

We spent the night at her apartment, and this morning, I went for a run in Aix en Provence. This was the first French city that ever felt like home to me. I walked along the Cours Mirabeau and it just felt like I belonged.
This morning, after only about four hours of sleep, I got up and headed out for a run.
Paul Cezanne, the painter, had his studio in Aix.

We always love to visit it. An artist's workshop is called an atelier, so we generally visit Cezanne's atelier.

 Today being Sunday, plus election day, plus early, I knew I couldn't go inside, but I wanted to run up the mountain so I could see Mont Ste. Victoire, one of Cezanne's favorite subjects.

He painted the mountain view over and over again as his eyesight got worse.
Copies of his paintings of Mont Ste Victoire are displayed from a gorgeous viewpoint.

The paintings are displayed here on this bluff, it you turn around, you can see the mountain. 

Here's my attempt at an artsy photo of Mont Sainte Victoire. 

My knees were a bit tender, so it wasn't the best run, but the views were spectacular. 

We visited a city that we liked a lot on Saturday morning, so it's still in the running for the place we could move. It's called Pezenas. Everyone kissed each other as they stopped for coffee. 

Do you think all this sunshine might be luring us like sirens?

Thanks for playing along with Dreaming of France. Please leave you link below and visit each other's blogs to share your love for France. 

Then and Now

The problem with kids and the good things about kids is that they grow up. One year we visit Florida and they are busy building sand castles or burying each other or collecting coquina shells. That's Grace looking at the camera. Anna has her back to the camera and Maggie is the smiling red head. Tucker is tiptoeing along the sand in the background.

The next time we visit, they're all grown up and awkward with each other. They complain before being dragged together, but once they're all there, a niche opens and they begin to talk.

Plus, there's always ice cream to draw them together.
And it helps to have a good-natured 11-year-old to act as comic relief. Since he was little, Patrick has been the one that drew the older kids together, from the time he was one-year-old and we visited during the 2000 election recount. The kids would ask him, "Who's going to win, Patrick, Bush or Gore?" Little Patrick, who was just learning to speak would make a proclamation and the other kids would fall about laughing, no matter who he tagged as the winner.

Lagging Self Confidence

Since we're in Florida, we plan to visit some old friends in St. Petersburg. We'll go to the beach where the wife and their three kids will join us. Then we'll all go to dinner joined by the husband when he finishes toiling at the nationally-known newspaper where he works.
Earl worked with Tom in St. Louis 30 years ago. When that paper folded, they both moved to Florida. We all worked together 20 years ago at the Tampa Tribune. Then we paired up, married off and had kids. Once a year or so, we get together. When the kids were little they would play happily building sand castles and swinging high. Last time we got together, the middle child, a tomboy of a girl, was beating up on our boys. This time with their girls 17 and 14 and the boy 11, it will probably be awkward with teenage gaps in the conversation.
Two days ago, Earl made plans to see them.
As the days pass, I find myself dreading it.
It's all because I don't feel good about myself. I hate to admit it, but it's true.
Maybe it is the fact that I'm spending a lot of time in a bathing suit. Maybe it's because I've put off finding a new stylist to cut and color my hair so it's curly with strands of gray. Maybe it's because I'm eating vacation food instead of only fruits and proteins.
I'm judging myself and assuming they'll do the same, which is stupid. We've all aged.
Generally, I consider myself a fairly confident person. I don't stand in front of the closet and throw aside outfit after outfit. I don't spend hours looking in the mirror and criticizing lines around my eyes. I'm smart, accomplished and sometimes even witty.
This time, though, I feel inadequate.
So, I asked Mom to call and see if her stylist can give me a trim and color today, straightening my hair in this humidity with the hopes that it will hold through tomorrow where I'll sit on the beach refusing to get my hair wet in anticipation of meeting up with old friends.