Working Woman

People generally praise me for my work ethic, but I truly consider myself a bit lazy, especially when it comes to manual labor.
When I do complete tasks of manual labor, I always expect a pat on the back. I point it out to my husband or friends for their praise.
Yesterday, by the time my husband arrived home, around 7 p.m., I was dead on my feet. I truthfully hadn't sat down except when driving my car, about 10 minutes each way to and from work, and for about 20 minutes when I ate some lunch. I even stood as I had dinner.
I teach from 8-2 and I don't sit down Even if I'm not lecturing, it's easier to see the computer monitor, easier to notice if the students need help when they are working on their assignments, if I stand the entire time. So that's a normal teaching day for me.
When I arrived home, I sat at the table for about 20 minutes reading the newspaper as I ate a muffin. Then I was determined to paint the living room as part of our preparations to sell the house.
I had already filled some spots on the wall on Sunday, so I hoped to get straight to painting on Tuesday, but I forgot about all the prep work required.
First I rolled up the area rug and moved our two couches to the middle of the room so I could get to the walls. Moving couches means the floor underneath needed to be cleaned. I vacuumed then mopped and then put some "Rejuvenate" on the places where the wood had been scraped.
While I had the vacuum out, I vacuumed the walls of dust or spider webs. I sanded the spots I had filled on Sunday and then sucked up the dust with the vacuum. But, I still needed to wash the walls.
Once everything was clean, I meticulously put blue tape over all of the baseboards, outlets, ceiling trim, window and door frames.
It was just about that time I ordered pizza for dinner. I stood eating the mushroom and black olive pizza, knowing that if I sat down, I might not get up again.
During all the prep, I took numerous trips up and down the basement stairs to get supplies, so I threw in loads of laundry, too.
Finally, I was ready to spread out the voluminous plastic sheet that would protect the wood floors from the paint. I taped that in place, too, before I started painting.
I climbed the rickety ladder to paint along the ceiling before clambering down to move the ladder and paint the bottom of the wall, and so I continued all the way around the room.
The room before was a dark golden wheat color.

I've lived with it for nine years now and thought I like it, but as I painted over it with this pale blue gray, I grew to detest the golden wheat color. I couldn't wait to cover it. Unfortunately, that same color is now in the dining room and kitchen, waiting to be painted.

Still have this blue gray paint on my fingernails this morning.

I think it is turning out quite well.

The main color is the pale blue gray, and the wall that juts out over the fireplace is this darker blue gray.

I'll probably use that darker color on the far wall in the kitchen too since the entire house is open from the living room, dining room to kitchen -- open plan, as they call it on the real estate shows.
We haven't painted the trim yet and will probably do the trim for all of the rooms at the same time. I'm hoping to lure my children into painting parties so that I don't have to do it alone.
Exhausted, I went to bed around 10:30 and then couldn't fall asleep until after 1. Perhaps I was too physically tired.
Anyway, I'm rewarding myself this morning. I started reading The Enemies of Versailles last night when I couldn't sleep, and one of the characters was eating a luscious cream puff. It made me crave an eclair, so I ran (literally ran) to La Chatelaine, a French restaurant in Columbus, about three miles away, and bought an eclair. Once I got home, I made a latte and sat down with the book and my breakfast. 

Oh la la! What a reward.
Now back to real life, grading papers and figuring out how to move a piano in the dining room so I can paint behind it.

Dreaming of France -- Elaborately Painted Building

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.

One good thing about hanging out with photographers is that they have an eye for the unusual.
My husband and I met blogging friend Linda Mathieu and her husband for a drink while we were in Paris. Linda writes and posts her photos at Frenchless in France. She's also a great tour guide, I've heard, and she's written a book  Secrets of a Paris Tour Guide.
We laughed a lot and enjoyed our conversation -- in English. As we left the brasserie, Linda pointed to the top of a building along rue Mouffetarde.
After she pointed it out, I noticed the elaborate painting. But first I only saw the four portraits above the awnings.

On closer look, I saw what drew Linda's eye, the elaborate gold vines, leaves, birds, boar, pig, deer and goat stretching to the roofline of the building. I'm not sure if this would be considered a trompe l'oeil painting or not, and I couldn't find anything about it online.

Imagine the time and attention that painting must have taken. And how many times has someone climbed on scaffolding to restore that painting throughout the centuries?

Hope you all have something beautiful to help you dream of France.

Thanks for playing along with Dreaming of France. Please leave a comment and visit each other's blogs, too, so you can get your fix of France dreams.

I almost forgot about Paris in July, which started, obviously, in July. So I'm going to play along with them too. 

Dreaming of France -- Dèjá Pre-Vu

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

This post may have a tenuous link to France, but it does deal with my feelings about France.
Yesterday afternoon, my daughter Grace and I made strawberry jam together. I was wondering whether people in other countries made homemade  jams or whether that was something that goes back to our pioneer roots here in the United States.

It was while I was stirring the long metal spoon in the thick strapberry mixture, watching it ripple and bubble in a rolling boil that I had a flash, a moment, where I suddenly saw myself and my daughter cooking in France and the idea filled me with joy. I felt sure the intuition took place in Arles, in that little restaurant that Van Gogh frequented and painted so beautifully. Then it was called The Café Terrace on The Place du Forum.

Here's a picture from a trip my husband and I took to Arles. The cafe now goes by the name of the artist who made it famous.

Maybe I had this vision because I've been reading lots of books about France. Maybe it was because my daughter stood next to me in her La Chatelaine uniform, still smelling like the coffee she helps serve in the French bistro. Or maybe I'm actually prescient and it will happen someday that Grace and I will be cooking at Café Van Gogh, even though we've never had any inclination to run a café in France.

As we continued the jam-making process, the steam rising up like so many dreams, I told Grace about my vision.

"Oh," she exlaimed. "I had a dream last night that we were running a restaurant."

"See!" I squealed. "Maybe it will come true."

"But, there was a werewolf too," she remembered.

"Well, maybe just part of it will come true," I said. 

How are you dreaming of France today?

I'm also linking with Paris in July today, and many days throughout the month.