Dreaming of France -- 55 Days

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.

In 55 days, I'll be in France again.
Can't wait!

Here I am in the French countryside in 1985 as an au pair.

In 1991, I dragged my husband along for the first time.

Bicycling around Provence and across the Pont du Gard. 

Eating ice cream in Aix en Provence.

And just a few years ago in Isle sur la Sorgue in the south of France. 

Do you see a pattern? I'm pretty much always smiling and happy. Well, it's vacation, what's not to like?
I'm looking forward to our vacation in France, in preparation for our move to France in the fall.
Thanks for playing along with Dreaming of France and please visit the blogs of others who join in too.

Dreaming of France -- Football

Thank you for joining 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.
Here in the U.S., we are all gathering around our televisions to celebrate American football with the Super Bowl, so I thought I'd show you our experience with European football.
When we traveled to Europe in 2006, the boys loved our hotel room view in Bandol -- not because we could see the Mediterranean but because we overlooked a large soccer field. Soccer to us, football to Europeans.
At the time, Spencer was more into soccer than Tucker, but he convinced his brother to join him.

Tucker is wearing the Beckham shirt

Spencer is wearing the Inter Milan soccer shirt. 

And the boys eventually made friends with some French boys who played soccer with them.
This was the kind of international experience we wanted them to have.

They couldn't actually speak to each other, but they managed to play some Football until some grown up yelled at them to get off the field. 

I hope everyone else has a sportif weekend, whether you're watching the Super Bowl or not.
Thanks for playing along and please visit the blogs of others who join in too.

My Week Off

Today is the final day of the week that I snuck and took off work.
Since I teach at two universities, their breaks rarely match up. One college had a break this week, so I took advantage of my substitute hours and got a sub to fill in for me so I could have the week off.
Originally, I hoped to fly to visit Mom and Dad in Florida, but the price and the timing didn't cooperate. I also wanted to stay home to get some things done.
My husband has been working crazy hours covering a trial, 12 to 13 hours a day many days, and I wanted to help reduce his stress. I planned to accomplish a lot more than I actually did, but I got some things done.
I was especially productive on Monday and Tuesday. I got an Adirondack chair sanded and painted.

I sanded and painted the metal chairs that go around the outdoor table. A wooden bench that sits on the front porch had gotten faded and rough. I sanded it and used spray lacquer to finish it.
Finally, I sanded the porch swing and coated it in hemp oil, which my friend Sheila gave me. She refinishes furniture for a living, so she held my hand through a lot of this stuff.

In addition, I also started scraping the house to get it ready for painting. I know that painting the house is one of those things that is weighing heavy on my husband's mind. I haven't made much progress, but I plan to scrape, sand and paint one section of the house at a time and I have all summer.
Wednesday was fairly sedentary, after my morning run and walk. And Thursday, a sinus infection set in that left piercing pain in my face and head. I went to Writing Group anyway and my ears got stopped up too until finally, everyone's voices sounded like they were coming through a strange filter.
I skipped my run this morning but walked a couple of miles instead. In addition, I had a lot of shopping to do.
My husband and oldest son are headed out for a week on the Appalachian Trail on Sunday, so I bought the food they will need and also went to Eddie Bauer to get some hiking-appropriate pants for my son. Three stores and a load of laundry before I collapsed on the couch for an afternoon nap.

I think I made good use of my week off, and I'm just going to bask in the things I accomplished rather than focusing on what I didn't. 

Checking Off My Bucket List

I'm generally the kind of person who has big ideas, but thinks them through for quite a while. That means, that nothing may come of my big idea.
I can't explain it, but for a few months now, I have been wanting to try paddle boarding. Particularly, stand-up paddle boarding. Like this girl:

I don't think I'll look like this girl on the paddle board, but I hope to be able to stand up.

I'd been thinking that we should go to the beach somewhere to try it. But I work Mondays and Fridays starting next week and I get very little time off, which I need to save in case I'm actually sick. So we do not have time to drive to an ocean, 8-9 hours from here, learn to paddle board and drive back on a Saturday and Sunday. 

But Labor Day is approaching. I know that Earl works, but Grace is starting a new job, so she can take a few days off in between. 

I mentioned it to her, and, although she feels bad about leaving her old job early, I convinced her to come along. 

I asked my cousin who lives in Charleston whether she would be home that weekend. No luck.

Instead, I booked a hotel in North Carolina for three nights, and I've already made my reservations for the stand-up paddle board lesson on Sunday morning. 

It's so impetuous of me. I thought about it. I made the reservation without torturing myself. 

I'm thrilled, and a little scared.

Now to find out what kind of exercise I should be doing to get ready for paddle boarding. I suspect I'll need to do more planks!

French Honeymoon

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.
Our French honeymoon was nearly a year in the making. We traveled to Europe almost eleven months after we were married. We started in Germany, even going to Berlin. The Wall had fallen just the year before, but we quickly made our way to visit friends in France.

You can see that I was already dreaming of France as I stood outside our friends' country house. Their family received the house during the reign of Napoleon. 

We stopped in the nearby town of Bourges, which is famous for its candy, but we chose a baguette. 

We were in France in early May and the fields of rape seed were in bloom. I don't think they smelled like anything. 

Monday is our 24th anniversary. We aren't going to France to celebrate 24 years of marriage, but maybe 25. I can always dream. 

Dreaming of France -- Beach in Bandol

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.
Maybe we can all satisfy our yearnings for France, until we get there again.
In honor of my son Spencer's birthday, I thought I'd include a photo of him on the beach in Bandol when he was 12. The kids were too young to enjoy the nightlife, but they all still talk about what fun they had in Bandol along the Mediterranean. 

The city is a perfect place to explore the Camargue, Aix en Provence and all the other cities of Provence and the Riviera.
Thanks for playing along. 

Dreaming of France -- Country Homes

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.
Maybe we can all satisfy our yearnings for France, until we get there again
This is the time of year when the French leave the city and head to the country or the beach or the mountains.
In August about 25 years ago, I spent a month in a family home near Bourges, France.

It looks like Bourges is in the exact center of France, doesn't it? Bourges is known for a special candy called Forestines. I recall it as a kind of hard candy with a melty, chocolate center.
Once Earl and I were driving in France and meeting our friends at the train station in Bourges. We would follow them to the country house from the station. The word for train station in French is "la gare." As we searched for the station in Bourges, I asked several people, in French, where the train station was. But I said it like this, "Ou est la guerre?" That means where is the war rather than where is the train station.
The family house apparently was given to our friend's family during the time of Napoleon. The Americans used it as a base during World War II. And our friends with their extended family gather there every year.
It gives me a warm feeling just thinking of the big rooms with the tile floors and oversized, shabby rugs. French doors lead out to the yard, and our friends had their wedding there.

I've visited three times.
Once as an au pair.

The girls on either end were in my care. The girl on my lap and
 the blonde  next to me were the children of our French friends.

Earl and I visited on our first trip to Europe.

Here I am dreaming of a family  home of my own in France.

Here's Earl luring the cows to the fence. The family home has sheep and chickens too. 

And we traveled there again with all three kids when they were ages 2, 4 and 6.
I can't find photos from that trip, but I know Grace was in love with the sheep and the shutters that we could throw open.
Have you ever visited a country home in France? What's your favorite place away from the cities of France?

Final Moments of Vacation

I sit here by the pool, reluctant to leave the evening sun, so warm and cheerful in the blue water. As vacation draws to a close, I hate to say goodbye to the sunshine. But I promised to help make dinner, and we must finish cooking and eating before the Ohio State basketball game, so I'll go into the shadow of the house and leave vacation behind.

Florida Respite

I'm in Florida this week visiting my parents. My parents, in their mid-70s, decided in the fall that they really needed a party house.
That's why we haven't eaten dinner in the same room twice so far. So many rooms to choose from.
They bought a beautiful house near the clubhouse of the golf course where they play probably 5 times a week.
The house has a screened in porch with a bar. Another screened in porch with a pool. A sun deck. And another screened in porch off the master bedroom. So plenty of outside space.

 Indoors, there's a great room with a long dining table, seating area and fireplace. There's a media room with two level seating and, of course, a big screen TV.

And there's a game room looking out on the pool.

My favorite part of the house though is the view from any of the porches or the sun deck or the bedroom windows.

I wish you all could sit here with me and  hear the call of the birds, the chirp of the frogs at night, and even the barks of the alligators. It's so peaceful and even when the Sandhill Cranes start calling, it sounds a little like I imagine Africa would sound. 

Running Away

In the three novels I've written, the main characters all run away to try to solve their problems.
This week, I wish I were a character in my novels.
I'm fighting the urge to run away.
I know it's ridiculous...it's just that I'm so tired.
That sounds even more ludicrous if you knew that I woke up at 4 a.m. before finally getting up at 4:30, knowing I couldn't go back to sleep.
But I'm tired of worrying about paying for college.
I'm tired of trying to direct my teenagers down the right path when they keep taking left turns.
I'm tired of arguing with my teenagers about their choices.
I'm even tired of walking in the bathroom and seeing that the tissue box, which is supposed to sit on the back of the toilet tank is gone -- again!! Someone (a teenager?) confiscates the tissue box, smuggling it back to his/her room.
This week, I know that a check for about $1700 is coming our way. And I know that I should pay college bills and buy new tires for both cars. That is the sensible thing to do with the money.
But I can't help dreaming of taking that money and running away -- traveling somewhere, anywhere -- and leaving my worries behind.
Do you think they would follow me and be compounded by my guilt?
I can imagine myself on a beach in Florida.

Or maybe I could look out at the Mediterranean from a beach in Corsica.

Or maybe I could go sit in a cafe in Paris and just watch the people to forget about my worries.

 

What if you were getting some surprise money? Where would you run away too?

End of Vacation

Tonight, my long vacation comes to an end.
I finished teaching and submitted grades on Dec. 22. Since then, I have been lollygagging -- as far as work goes. I've read and watched too much TV. I've worked out and visited with family. I've harangued my kids and I'm sure they've wished I'd go back to work.
Classes started again Monday for one of the colleges where I teach, but I didn't actually have to show up until today -- my Friday night class. So, although I've communicated with people online, I hadn't faced students, turning on my entertaining teacher face.
Here's something surprising -- I get less done when I'm off work than when I work.
I do less housework.
I cook dinner less often.
I'm basically pretty unmotivated when I'm off work.
But everyone needs some down time, so I'm going to accept my laziness. No, I'm going to embrace my laziness.
I had some family life stress over my vacation; Maybe lying around rather than accomplishing things is what I needed to bounce back and become an A-personality professor and author.
I hope everyone had a chance to relax, even if you didn't get to a beach or ski lodge or didn't get time off work, like we college professors did.

New Book

It's been a while since I concentrated on writing a new book. I've worked on revising and sporadically contacting agents to sell my current book, but my writing time has been squandered grading papers.
On a run the other morning, I got a new book idea that I'm excited about. I don't want to give it all away, but I will tell you that it's non-fiction, which means I'll get to use my journalism skills. (I have a master's degree in Journalism from American University.)
And the subject of the book, something everyone loves, vacation.
I'm going to need to interview people about their ideal vacations, not just the place but the moment to moment joys of vacation.
Here's a photo from one of my favorite things to do on vacation.

What about you? What do you love about your vacations? And, are you willing to let me interview you for my potential book?

Haply I May Remember

I hate when people get to the end of a vacation and they have to run around to visit everything the last day. The vacation isn't about the last day. It's about the entire experience and all the other days before.
And that's how I have to think about life too.
My friend Rini died on Saturday.
She was 61 and had a son the same age as Grace. We worked together at the same college and lived in the same small town.
She was diabetic and her health has always been fragile. Then she had a stroke Labor Day weekend but was recovering. No one expected her to die.
I went to see her on Wednesday. I didn't think it would be the last time.
Other women in the community are really torn up that they didn't make it to see Rini again, one last time. And that made me think about the last day of vacation.
It isn't about getting that last visit in at the hospital. It's about all the girls' nights out and meeting for coffee and having lunch or simply going for a walk -- together. All of those moments are the ones that add up to make a friendship, and in the end, only one of you will remember the last time that you saw each other.
Rini was my friend because she was caustic and witty. She offered me insights into the small town I moved into. She'd been teaching longer than I had, and we shared complaints as well as the accomplishments of our students.
Another teacher told me that I had been "lovely" to Rini. But our friendship wasn't about me doing things for her. It was mutual.
I enjoyed her company.
She might have needed me a little more lately, as she went through a divorce this summer, and when she needed someone to walk the dog last summer. But I got as good as I gave.
Thanks, Rini, for your friendship. I hope you're at peace now. You will be missed, but all those moments before, will be remembered.
Here's a poem by Christina Rosetti that I think talks about remembering the life, instead of the death.

When I am dead, my dearest

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

Vacation-ish

Yay! I have six days where I don't have to physically go to work.
I mean, I still have online classes that I have to grade and respond to, and I have to prepare my syllabus for the next semester at the other college where I teach, but I could sit around in my pajamas for the next six days.
The problem with teaching at two colleges is that they are on totally different schedules. One college is on quarters and the other is on semesters then breaks those semesters down into 8-week sessions.
The one college had spring break three weeks ago. Next week the other college has spring break. Rarely do the breaks coincide.
I thought I was going to get a vacation at the end of June. I told my mom that we were coming down to Florida. Now I found out that the one college has a two-week break in the middle of June and the other college has a one break at the end. They don't coincide again....
I've asked to teach online this summer. I am determined to get a vacation eventually -- to leave the state and go somewhere other than New York to pick up Grace from college.
I know no one will feel sorry for me since I snuck away for a fabulous vacation in Paris last year at this time. But you can't live on Paris memories forever. Although I'll keep trying. Aaaah, Paris.

Vacation Drama

I scour news sites, airline sites, airport sites for a definitive answer. Will my flight to Paris go or won't it?
When I see that the flight for Sunday night hasn't been cancelled, and today is Sunday, I despair of learning ahead of time. The people who are scheduled to fly to Paris tonight are still scheduled. Imagine how panicked they must be. Packing, kissing kids goodbye, arranging sitters, changing dollars to Euros. Then they may arrive at the airport and be turned around.

That might be me too.
I look at my list of things to do before we leave and realize I must complete them all, just in case.

I hope and I despair at the same time. I long to go; I have my fears about leaving the kids for a week. Maybe it's worse now that they're older rather than younger.
I'm asking them to make sacrifices. They don't want to stay at their Aunt's house.
"That's like 10 minutes extra every morning on the way to school," Grace complains.
"Okay, 10 minutes a day to school for six days. That equals an hour. I'm asking you to sacrifice an hour for me and Dad."
Huff.
My stomach feels extra jittery as I sit through basketball games and measure the shot put at a track meet. .
Oh, to be in Paris, settled into a seat at a cafe, watching the people hurry past while I sip a teeny, tiny espresso. I drop the sugar cube in and stir it with the little spoon until it dissolves, half sugar/half espresso. Aaaah. The stress of life pools in a puddle at my feet and trickles down the sidewalk. I have left it behind.
I hold hands with my husband and walk along the Seine. We stop to admire artists at work and listen to his spattering of English as he tries to convince us to buy his art.
We linger at dinner, ordering things we aren't sure of then feeling our taste buds come alive again at the touch of the food on our tongues.
In the back of my mind though, that fear that if I do make it to France, I'll be worrying the whole time that I may not make it back. What if the volcano kicks up again and I am stranded in France? Oh, I know there are worse things in life, but the everyday banality of kids and work wait like a ticking clock.

Prehistoric

Have you ever wondered what it might have been like to live thousands of years ago? A time when highways didn't crisscross the country and McDonalds didn't blare its yellow red logo at you?
Imagine standing in a prehistoric time where the plants exerted their influence, where tree trunks became buttressed to withstand the swampy soil and sent up "knees" underground to increase their strength.
Imagine longing for a glimpse of the sun's warmth. Green plants emerging from the brown muck to find the light.
Animals with tough skins lift their heads to the sun.
And others burrow into the ground.
The trees and the swamps go on and on. The wind rushes through the tops of the hammock rattling the palm fronds, sending debris down below. That rustle in the bushes, is it another animal?
What could that be gliding through the water?
Alone in a prehistoric land. An alien land.
Imagine how small you'd feel

To France or Not To France?

Earl and I may not be the best at making practical decisions. When the kids were 2, 4, and 6, we decided to take a three-week vacation to Europe with them. We had a big old house that could have used work but a vacation seemed more important.
This spring, we're facing a similar dilemma. Our 20th anniversary is coming up so we hope to go to France.
Oh, it's more than we "hope" to go to France. We read books about it. We drink wine and talk about it. "Remember when we were biking through Provence and we had climbed that long hill, we stopped at that little restaurant?"
"Yes, we had pork and rose wine. That was the best meal ever."
"It looked out over Aix en Provence."
"And we could see Mt. Ste. Victoire from there."
Which leads us to the next conversation: "Remember when we rode our bike to Mt. Ste. Victoire?"
"Look the guidebook said the road was around the mountain..." I always reply.
So we dream of France. Sitting in cafes and walking along the streets hand in hand. We take our dance classes and say we'll have to find a place to dance in France this spring.
We read travel websites and compare airfare. I've organized my work so that I miss the minimum number of classes if we leave at the end of April and come home 10 days later in the beginning of May.
But practicality raises its ugly head.
Or to save money for college?
Financial things are looming, like Grace going to college. For anyone unfamiliar with the cost of American college, it's about $20,000 per year -- that's for a big state school like Ohio State or the University of Cincinnati. Smaller, private colleges run around $33,000 per year, but they offer scholarships. She's been offered $17,000 from one, $13,000 from another, so the price tag is reduced to about $20,000 per year. We're still hopeful more money will arrive for college.
Then last week, the outside water tap was turned on for days. It flooded the basement, saturating the carpet. Another purchase of new flooring for the basement is another imminent cost.
Or to buy a new car?

Our second car is getting old, a 1998 convertible. Spencer will be getting his driver's license soon. Should we buy another car to replace the old one?
Leaving the kids behind always makes me nervous, right up to the time we step on the ground in France. I won't be able to sleep for at least a week before we leave worrying about the possibilities of us not returning to raise our kids.
In spite of all these complications, Earl and I reallllllllly want to go to France this spring.
Should we be practical or follow our hearts?