More Babies

At the end of June, I wrote about Earl's niece having an adorable daughter. Little Regan is still a sleepy, floppy newborn which is good since her mother is recovering slowly from her C-section and taking care of her two-year-old Caroline. We've gotten to see baby Regan a few times, and now they've asked my husband Earl to be the godfather. He, of course, insists on calling her Ray gun.

Now my side of the family has decided to get into the baby business. My nephew Kyle, 24, became a dad last week when Oliver was born.

He was big, 8 pounds, 13 ounces.

My mom and dad traveled from Florida to Texas this weekend to see the baby, their first great grandchild. 

Here's a picture that my mom took on her phone, so it's a little blurry, but this is my Dad holding Oliver, while my niece Abby, 18, looks on. Abby, by the way, is not the mom, but the aunt of Oliver. Abby heads off to college at the end of August.

I love how alert Oliver looks, as if he understands whatever secrets my dad is telling him.

And here's the new dad, Kyle, next to his sister. Kyle's life has been pretty much go-with-the-flow so far. He plays the guitar in a punk band and has delivered pizzas on his bicycle. All of that should be changing now as he takes on the mantle of dad.

I haven't met Kyle's girlfriend, the mother of Oliver, and I don't see myself getting to Texas any time soon, so I don't know when I'll get to see Oliver either. Maybe they'll bring Oliver up north when he gets a little older so he can meet his great, great grandmother, my Nana, who lives in Kentucky -- 5 generations of Kincers.

Nicknames in Cycling

This morning, the Tour de France ended with a sprint along the Champs Elysees. I love watching the racers in the streets, passing the Arc de Trimophe, the Place de la Concorde. I can see the bateaux mouches along the Seine.

Here's the Champs Elysees on a day
when bicyclists were not racing.

At the beginning of the Tour this year, Swiss researchers discovered something called Higgs Boson, known as the God Particle. Now I don't understand what this is, something about the fact that even empty space has the potential to become something.
But what I do know is that at the same time scientists announced they had discovered this Higgs Boson, we were watching Edvald Boasson Hagen ride the Tour de France on Team Sky. And his name seemed so similar, that for the rest of the race, we called him God Particle.
Apparently, the rest of the race world didn't pick up on it, cause they said one of his nicknames was Bo-dawg.
Today, on the final stretchh up the Champs Elysee, the God Particle led his teammate away from the rest of the field and launched him, allowing his teammate to win the final stage. The God Particle is very selfless.
I don't suppose his name will catch on, except in our family

Saturday Snapshot -- Some Things I Love About France

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
This month, I'm also participating in Paris in July sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath, so, of course, I need a France related photo.
So here are some pictures from a 2010 trip to show you why I'm obsessed with France.



The light and beauty

Beautiful wines with every meal.

Cheese shops with rows and rows of choices.

Elaborate and silly bonbons

Decadent desserts

A beautiful cathedral or chateau out every window.

Simple family meals that are important to the culture.

Cafes

The beauty of the architecture of bridges and buildings

Joy

On my way onto campus yesterday, a young mother and her 6-year-old daughter walked past me. The mother had a scarf tied around her hair and knotted in the front as if she covered curlers. She wore sweat pants over her taut body and a t-shirt. She walked quickly in her flipflops, and her little girl, in a one-piece shorts outfit and pony tails, hurried to catch up. The girl carried a bag on her shoulder that slipped down until she pulled it back up.
"Now you need to be quiet while you're sitting in the hall," the mother informed the daughter as they scurried past me. The girl silently nodded her head.
"That means no singing and no dancing," the woman said. "And no talking loud to Nonni on the telephone. Just draw and write quietly."
That made me think differently about this pair. The woman, a 20-something, inner city mother, returning to school. Her daughter home during the long summer days rather than at school.
I wanted this little girl to be free to dance and sing. I pictured her, arms outflung, twirling through a grassy field, stopping only to make daisy chains. She only wanted to live, to not be stymied. In spite of  the hardships she was born into, she had managed to find joy in life -- joy that made her sing and dance at random moments, like a happy little girl does, like an improbable high school musical.
Some people might have judged this mother for taking her daughter along to college and parking her in the hallway. I might have judged her one not-so-long-ago day, but more and more, I see the lives of desperation many young mothers live, trying to claw their way out of poverty.
This mother needs to attend college to get ahead. She can't afford to hire a babysitter, and she isn't allowed to bring the girl into class. So she'll leave her in the hallway with a cell phone and a caution to be quiet, to act against her natural little girl instinct.
This morning, before I left campus, I stopped by an office. The chair of the English Department is temporarily acting as a dean until the school hires someone else.
"I have a big idea," I told her.
She stopped what she was doing and turned to listen to me.
"We need day care for school-aged children during the summer." I told her the story about the little girl who wanted to sing and dance. "Students should be able to leave kids there free of charge during their scheduled classes."
"I'll write it down," she said, searching through stacks of paper until she found what she called her "dean" notebook. "I think it's a liability problem though."
Maybe it won't happen. Maybe students will continue to park their children at computers and on couches and in hallways while they sit in the backs of classrooms and worry about their children entertaining themselves.
But maybe, our school, heavy with students returning to college, will set up a place that on a sunny summer day, children can sing and dance while their parents study and try to move their family up a step in the economic echelon.

First Paragraph, Tuesday Teaser -- Paris, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
This is like a meme within a meme, because I'm taking part in Diane's First Chapter First Paragraph, but my emphasis this month is on France with the Paris in July meme sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath.
I'm focusing on books set in France and it's getting harder and harder to find a book that lots of other people aren't blogging about. I found Paris, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down by Rosecrans Baldwin, figuring even a book that complains about Paris might be better than a book not set in Paris. Here's the first paragraph:

The sun above Paris was a mid-July clementine. I bought copies of Le Monde and the Herald Tribune at a kiosk and climbed the stairs to my new office on the Champs-Elysees. For three hours, I mugged at a laptop, trying to figure out how the e-mail system worked. My fingers were chattering. I spent long, spacey minutes trying to find the @ key. They'd given me a keyboard mapped for French speakers, with the letters switched around.

Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays.
Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers.
Here's a teaser from page 64:

Rachel said, with a kind of sadness I hadn't hear in her voice since we'd moved, "I miss knowing what people are saying. Being part of what's going on around me."

 I think I like this author's voice, even if he does whine about living in Paris.

Cycling in France

I needed to write another post to get rid of the complaining post below, so I thought I'd focus on France again as part of Paris in July, thanks to the meme from Thyme for Tea and Bookbath
I'm enjoying the Tour de France on television in the mornings. I watch to see the countryside, but also get sucked into the drama of the racing. I cringe and look away at the crashes. Bicycling in France was one of my favorite vacations of all time.
In October 2002, Earl and I left the kids with my parents and went to France for 10 days. We rented bikes from Bourgogne Randonee in Burgundy. They delivered the bikes to Avignon in Provence for us where we began our tour. We traveled with saddlebags on the bikes and nothing else, so we really had to pack lightly.

This is me standing with the bikes. In the background on the left is the bridge from the famous song, Sur le Pont d'Avignon, and that's Avignon on the right behind me.

We had a very loose schedule planned on where we would stay each night. We pieced together some different bicycle routes from the book Bicycle Tours of France by Gay and Kathlyn Hendricks.  

The first day was the hardest for me. Maybe because of jet lag, but also because we didn't take any chocolate with us along the way on the 40-mile ride. I think we pictured stopping at a 7/11 type store to buy something to eat. Bad planning.

I need to scan this photo again to get it in
 the computer in a more usable form.

We rode across the Pont du Gard, a Roman adqueduct near Avignon and ended our day in Nimes. We had no hotel reserved, simply pulled into the center of the city on our bikes and went to the tourism office. They helped us find a hotel across the street from the Roman amphitheater. In spite of some rain, we made our way from city to city. One day when it was raining, we put our bikes on the train for a short ride to the next city. We also stayed in Arles, Salon de Provence and ended up in Aix en Provence where the brothers of Bourgogne Randonee retrieved the bicycles.
On the trip to Aix, we had lunch in a little village called Equilles. We could see Aix in the distance and we lingered over pork chops and green beans, along with glasses of rose. For some reason, we still consider that simple meal to be one of the best we've ever eaten. Maybe it was the fatigue, the ambience, the company.

This trip has been our high standard for vacations since then. We can't wait to move to France someday where we can take bike trips whenever we want.

Customer Service - A Thing of the Past for Best Buy

Eight phone calls.
Two hours and 28 minutes total on hold or explaining my problem to a "Customer Service" representative.
That has been my experience with Best Buy in the past 13 days.
And my $32.01 problem has not been solved yet.
I considered myself a loyal Best Buy customer. In the past year alone, I've purchased three laptops from Best Buy. Apparently, I thought the store was reliable because I never had problems with any products.

Woe to ye who must sit on hold waiting for a Best Buy "Customer Service" agent.
Nevermind the fact that the speakers and the hold music on Best Buy are horrendous. If you ever listened to the hold music on Best Buy, cracking and popping its 1960s tunes, you would never buy any stereo equipment or phones at Best Buy. You'd expect a cutting edge technology store to have at least decent technology. Believe me, I've had 148 minutes of mostly hold music, rarely interrupted by a representative, to listen to.
The original problem was complicated. I tried to buy something as a download and I got an error message. It didn't download.
So, I tried to buy it again, and again. Each time it seemingly got turned down. Then I looked on my checking account and saw that I had been charged for it four times. I still didn't have the darn product. That was my first call to Best Buy "Customer Service." When I couldn't get a person, I drove to the bank for help.
Now, all of the mistaken charges have gone away, except for the original charge of $32.01. Because it was a download and I don't have an actual product to return, they can't seem to wrap their head around me getting a refund.
The next day, I went to an actual store -- Target, not Best Buy -- and bought the product I wanted. Now I have the product, but I've paid for it at two places and only have it one.
"Take the product back to the store," one of the Best Buy reps told me on the phone today.
I never went to the store! I have no product to return.
"Well, why'd you leave the store without the product?" she asked.
I wanted to bang my head against the wall over and over.
I thought I was onto something last week. I got a southern accented man who told me the refund would be processed by Wednesday. It wasn't.
Today, I got one hour and six minutes into a call. The woman was helping. She said, "I'll stay on the phone with you while you talk to this department." She walked me through three different departments without success. Then she said she knew the right department and she put me on hold. That's when my call got lost. The loneliness overwhelmed me. She was the only one who understood my problem and she drifted away on the crappy phone system.
I went to the end of the cue again as an operator said, "Please tell me the problem so I can direct your call."
"No, no, no.... Give me back to the woman who was about to solve my problem," I begged. They couldn't. And the system is set up so she can't call me back or even notify a supervisor that the person she has worked with for an hour got dropped.
Sorry. Start over.
And that's why I question whether it's actually customer service. Service would indicate that someone got some sort of help, which I haven't gotten.
The supervisor I insisted on speaking to today was a little surly.
I mean, I wasn't his cheeriest customer, I'm sure.
"What's your last name, Mike?" I asked.
"I can't tell you that," he said.
"What's your supervisor's name, Mike? Even if he or she isn't there, could I have a name?"
"I can't tell you that," Mike said again.
Maybe the CIA should take some tips from Best Buy because they appear to be good at keep information on the QT.
Unhelpful Mike left it by saying he had to send a note to another department. A note? Really? Is he sending it by pneumatic tube? Is he handwriting it and dropping it in interoffice mail? Where's the technology?
I would hear from the mystery department when they had resolved the issue, unhelpful Mike said.
"So, if it isn't resolved, I won't hear anything?" I asked. "I'll just have to use another 148 cell phone minutes on the phone with Best Buy?"
He didn't have an answer.
Neither do I, but I know where I won't be turning for help next time.
Addendum: About a week after I wrote this blog post, which I sent to Best Buy, I got a call from a Best Buy representative. At the beginning, I wasn't hopeful, as she again reiterated that her records showed I had purchased the software at the store.
Trying not to get frustrated, I promised that I had been sitting in my dining room at the time of purchase and that there was nothing I could do other than forward her the email the company sent which showed the day and the price, nothing else.
She suggested she could give me a credit to Best Buy.
I declined, saying I didn't plan to shop there any more.
This customer service rep was apparently allowed to take a little initiative though. She said she couldn't reimburse me for something bought at the store (I didn't scream at her when she said this) but she did credit me the same amount on a computer I bought online the month before. So, after much frustration, I did get my money back.
I'm not sure that's true for most people who get caught in the ring of hell known as "customer service."

Faded Glamour

This weekend, my husband and I made the four-hour trip to my grandmother's house south of Lexington, Kentucky. My 94-year-old grandmother hasn't been back in her house since she had a stroke, then nearly died from pnuemonia, then went for rehabilitation in a nursing home and finally moved in with her daughter near Lexington.

Last month, she started pushing to go back to her house to live. We agreed to try to find someone who will stay with her and last week my cousins moved her back home.

Earl and I spent Friday night with her and she needed care that older people usually need. I trimmed and filed fingernails and toenails. I emptied the portable toilet situated in her bedroom. I took her to the bank and went to the grocery for her.

But in the bedroom where we slept, I was reminded of the woman she used to be, the glamourous Nana who ran her own store and worked at the post office. 

This is a jewelry tree that holds some of her clip-on earrings. I remember as a kid going through Nana's costume jewelry. It felt like 1950s movie star glamour.  

Here's a close-up of some of Nana's clip-on earrings. Imagine her with her tiny-waisted dress, kitten heels, and ginger hair curling around her ears where these big baubles dangled.

Saturday Snapshot --

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
This month, I'm also participating in Paris in July sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath, so, of course, I need a France related photo.
Last Saturday, I posted a photo of the kids with us in France at ages 2, 4 and 6. This week, I'll jump forward to the trip we took with them at ages 10, 12 and 14.

The challenges were different this time, but still pretty tiring. Again we created some great memories.

Here we are in front of the Arc de Triomphe with Grace already towering over me. She chastises me now for letting her traipse through Europe looking awkward and 14.



Tucker, age 10, tried to reach up and give his dad bunny ears in every photo. Now, 6 years, later, he could easily give his dad bunny ears. This was, of course, in front of the pyramid at the Louvre.

We took a ride on the Bateaux Mouches at night so we snapped a shot of the Eiffel Tower lit up behind the kids.

I hope someday, when the kids are all adults we can go together again. 

Paris Blog -- Paris in July

Since the emphasis is on Paris in July this month, thanks to the meme from Thyme for Tea and Bookbath , I thought I should introduce you to another French blog that I enjoy. And if you are actually going to Paris, you can buy her book to guide you through the back streets.
Linda writes the blog Frenchless in France, although I don't know whether she actually speaks French and is just kidding about being Frenchless. She is from Texas. She married a Frenchman and lives in Paris. She used to have a house in Provence for the summers, but they've sold it now and are building a house in Brittany, I think. Anyway, it's along the sea.
Linda takes great photos around Paris and she knows about all kinds of secret places that people should visit.
When my daughter Grace, 19, was in Paris, Linda met her in Montmartre for the day and showed her this glorious reflection of stained glass windows.

As a matter of fact, I had to edit Linda's hand out of the photo because she was taking pictures too.

Grace was traveling alone and was intimidate visiting Montmartre the first time because some overly brazen guys grabbed her arm. The next time she ventured to Montmartre, she met Linda there. 

Linda has even written an ebook, a tour to Paris, that anyone could download to their iPhone and take along on their travels. I can't find the link to it right now, but it's called Secrets of a Paris Tour Guide  by Linda Mathieu.

Linda's blog is definitely an American in Paris blog worth visiting. Here's another photo that Grace took while traveling with Linda in Paris.

Isn't this a glorious shot from Sacre Coeur?

First Paragraph, Tuesday Teaser --Paris My Sweet

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
This is like a meme within a meme, because I'm taking part in Diane's First Chapter First Paragraph, but my emphasis this month is on France with the Paris in July meme sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath.
I'm focusing on books set in France and here is a new one I found. Paris My Sweet by Amy Thomas which was published in February. Here's part of the "Prelude."

I guess you could say my story began with a bicycle and some bonbons. At the time, it just seemed like a fun summer vacation: it was 2008, and I did an apartment swap with someone in Paris. I had already visited earlier that year, but what can I say? When the invitation to spend time in the City of Light (and Dark Chocolate) comes knocking, my first response is "pourquoi pas?"
I've just always been one of those girls. I spent a college semester in Paris, and it was then I fell in love with the city's beauty and grace -- and Nutella street crepes. When I returned to the States, I wore silk scarves and a black beret; the only thing missing from my cliched uniform were the Gauloises cigarettes.

Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays.
Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers.
Here's one from page 59:

"Doesn't it smell amazing?" I gushed once we had crossed the threshold of my favorite boulangerie. Mom, standing inside the doorway clutching her purse, just nodded as she filled her lungs with the warm, yeasty air, her eyes alight with a brightness I didn't remember from home.

What do you think? Would you keep reading?

New Addition

Just when I'm getting fed up with raising teenagers, Earl's niece comes along with the adorable two-year-old Caroline and now baby Regan.

Regan is 11-days old now and I finally got my hands on her. She didn't wake up but half opened one eye as she stretched and went back to sleep.

Sleepy newborns may be the antidote to cranky teenagers. This is Grace holding Regan. She is 20 now so does not count as a cranky teenager any more. Her brothers are still in the cranky teenage stage. I can't remember when they were this cuddly and sweet. 

Saturday Snapshot -- France with Kids

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
This month, I'm also participating in Paris in July sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath, so, of course, I need a France related photo. I wrote yesterday about the wildfires in Corsica when I visited there more than 25 years ago. I have some great photos from that trip, but they aren't all on the computer yet. Instead, I'll post a photo from one of our visits to France with the kids.
We took the kids to France when they were 2, 4 and 6. Yes, we were slightly optimistic and a little insane, but we have some fun photos and memories of this trip. We've forgotten the exhaustion and frustration.

Here we are outside our friend's apartment in Paris having returned from
 a successful day hunting and gathering for a baguette.

Here's Earl and the kids in front of the Arc de Triomphe. We had just visited a bakery.
Grace got a Saint Honore cake and Tucker got a pain sucre pastry; Spencer asked for a KitKat candy bar. He was not convinced
of the goodness of French pastries at that point.

Wildfires in Corsica

The news for weeks has talked about wildfires in Colorado. People flee their homes with few belongings and wait anxiously to see if the firefighters can stop the walls of flames advancing through the dry mountain brush. Houses are burned. Some people have died.
The news reminds me of a month I spent in Corsica more than 25 years ago. I was there babysitting two American girls with French grandparents and it seems like the time is right to tell the story since I'm participating in Paris in July sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath . I've posted about my trip here when I talked about fashion, and here about lessons I learned from France, and here about a secret crush and an injury in Corsica.
While we were staying in Corsica, wildfires burned.
At first, I didn't know what was happening. I stretched out on my bed in the stone house to take a siesta while the little girls, Claire, 3, and Brigid, 4, napped. As I lay there, I heard the drone of an airplane. At home, I would have thought nothing of it. On the northwest coast of Corsica, the sound was as foreign as the language remained.
A knock drew my attention and Yves stuck his head in the door. "Come look at zhe planes," he beckoned.
I followed him to the stone balcony that faced the bowl of a bay in the Mediterannean. The bright yellow planes, the color of the winner's jersey on the Tour de France, took turns swooping into the Mediterranean Sea below us. Like pelicans going in for a catch, the planes skimmed the water, filling their red, hollow bellies with water. The planes then buzzed away to drop their loads of water on the fires in the mountains beyond.
We walked up the road to the top of the mountain, searching for smoke or a glimpse of the fire. We couldn't spot either, so we returned to our normal life, eating extravagant meals, lying on the beach,  playing tennis.
Corsica is a very dry island, with part of the land being a desert. In the sparsely-populated island, fires started and spread quickly without the benefits of fire hydrants or firefighters close by. Even if the island was lush with firefighters, it might take hours for fire trucks, on barely passable roads that twist through the mountains with sharp drop offs on one side and walls of rock on the other, to reach the spot where the fire burned .
A week later, on a Saturday night, we were driving to a nearby village. We looked up to see bright orange lights in some far away mountains. The next morning, the bells of the church rang loudly in the background while we stood watching smoke billow from a mountain across the water. Most of the day the mountain seemed to burn. We pulled out the binoculars to search for flames, but the dense smoke blocked the view of the flames.
On Monday morning, the faint acrid smell of smoke hung in the air. By afternoon, small pieces of ash fell into the gardens and on the house, as if we lived near a recently erupted volcano.
We ventured down to the beach, but the expanse along the water began to feel closed in as the smoke rose in huge clouds blocking out the sun. We heard the now familiar whir of the planes buzzing above the Mediterranean, like so many dragonflies searching for a clear place to swoop down to the water.
Children and adults rushed down to the edge of the water to watch the planes at work. The planes, tipped at a careful angle to gather water then take off again, slowly pulled away from the sea, full of their lifesaving load.
That afternoon, the windows in the house grew dark as the smoke billowed across the sky blocking out the light. I took the girls to the lower level and began to read them stories to distract them from the fire.
"Are we safe here?" I wanted to ask. The house was made of stone but had lots of wood, plus the roof could catch fire.
"Should we evacuate?" I wondered.
But I was still young enough to believe that wildfires weren't really dangerous and I trusted the judgment of the real adults in the house as I huddled in the lower level. I heard the swoosh of water from a hose as Monsieur Berger watered down the roof of the house to thwart any sparks. His children called to him to come inside, this elderly Frenchman who fought in World War II and was captured by the Germans. He refused to turn off the hose, to retreat into his Corsican vacation home and huddle with his family away from the flames.
The house didn't burn.

This was the door to our lower level.
One day, we found a snake coiled in the stones there.

The next morning we took a trip across the island. We saw the blackened mountains and the skeletons of small shrubs brown and brittle. In places, stood geometric shapes of green, miraculously hopped over by the fire.  On our drive back home, the smell of smoke alerted us to another fire. A thick cloud of smoke surrounded the car and the orange flames came into view, having already engulfed some small trees, leaving branches blackened. The popping and crackling of the burning plants reached our ears as we drove the car away from the flickering flames.
A lone fire truck wound slowly around the mountain, its blue light flashing solemnly, as we rounded a cliff and came face to face with a quarter moon whose white face reflected the flames turning it orange in the sky.

.

Packages From France

Just in time to help me celebrate Paris in July sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath, Corey from Tongue in Cheek  sent me a package because I won a contest on her blog.
This morning, the mailbox was propped open and I opened the lid to see what was blocking it. There I found a brown paper package with a return address from France. I knew immediately what it was and squealed in anticipation.
Packages are a delight. Packages from France, what joy!

This is the vintage white night dress that Corey gave away on her blog. It was this post: What to Wear on a Summer's Day

When I opened the envelope, I felt the thick, soft white fabric in my hands and breathed in the clean smell. I pulled it from the envelope and watched the long swathe of white cotton undulating.

Here was the nightdress I dreamed about 20 years ago when I prepared to give birth to my first baby, Grace. I pictured myself propped in the hospital bed, unbuttoning tiny mother-of-pearl buttons to lift her to my breast, her face pressed against the thick cotton. But my friends who had given birth before me, pooh-poohed the idea. Births were full of blood and gore, not white cotton nightdresses they said. And so now, 20 years later, comes a vintage, white nightdress. My babies are long grown, but my dreams remain.

Thank you, Corey, for the beautiful nightdress and for sharing your stories on your blog.

Corey is an American from northern California who married a handsome Frenchman and raised two beautiful children who are now exploring the world as well. She weaves intriguing tales about living in Provence and also takes marvelous photos -- not to mention the fact that she sometimes has fabulous giveaways. Corey's passions are her family, travel, and the brocante, which is what the French call a flea market only it's full of really old, cool things, like early 1900s nightdresses, dishes and glassware and monogrammed linens.

Happy Fourth of July

Today is our Independence Day, but, of course, I'm celebrating Paris in July sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath, so I'll need to compromise.
I've only been in France one time over the 4th of July and since it was my long trip to France, I was disoriented and babysitting two little girls, so I probably did not even notice that I missed 4th of July.
 I can only think of two national holidays that are celebrated here and not in France. The first would be 4th of July and the second would be Thanksgiving. I haven't been in France on Thanksgiving, but someday maybe.
In order to pay tribute to our holiday, I ran 4 miles before it got too hot, and I'm going to a cookout at my brother in law's house.
I can include a photo of myself, looking relatively patriotic in a blue and white shirt though. The picture was taken on the train from the Charles de Gaulle airport to Paris on our most recent trip there in 2010.
So I can claim a tentative link to Paris in July and 4th of July.
Here it is.

And since I've included the blue and white for 4th of July, I'd better include some red too.
So, here you go, once again, from Paris.

Now I've given  you red, white and blue for Independence Day and I've tied it all into Paris.
Hope you have a happy day, whether you celebrate or not.

First Paragraph, Tuesday Teaser -- From Here, You Can't See Paris

Every Tuesday, Diane at Bibliophile by the Sea posts the first paragraph of her current read. Anyone can join in. Go to Diane's website for the image and share the first paragraph of the current book you are reading.
This is like a meme within a meme, because I'm taking part in Diane's First Chapter First Paragraph, but my emphasis this month is on France with the Paris in July meme sponsored byThyme for Tea and Bookbath. I'm hoping I find lots of new books set in France that I wasn't aware of before so I can put them on my list.
Here's what I found: From Here, You Can't See Paris by Michael S. Sanders. The book blurb describes it as the remembrance of an author who started out exploring life inside a French restaurant and then got drawn into the wider world of a village in Southwest France. Here's the first paragraph:

By eight o'clock on a late summer day what passes for the morning bustle in Les Arques is well under way. Elise Segol, the widow who owns the little house across the street from the restaurant, has thrown open her windows and doors for the fresh air. Wearing a voluminous flowered apron over her dress, she leans on her broom, chatting with Max, the gruff village gardener and jack-of-all-trades, who is watering the flower beds around the statue of the Virgin and the war memorial that mark the entrance to the village.

What do you think?

Also this week is Teaser Tuesdays.

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers.
Here's the teaser from page 106:
L

ike so many of our conversations, this one was spontaneous, for I had just wandered up to the village to see if anything was going on and happened upon them in a relaxed moment. As always, Jacques had asked me if I was hungry, insisting it would be no trouble to scare something up. I refused the offer of food, knowing it would delay the staff's departure and accepted instead a glass of the sparkling Vouvray they were drinking.

Tour de Columbus

In honor of the Tour de France (remember emphasis on France for July), I took a bike ride this morning.
I was sick yesterday, sore throat and aches, so when I tried to run this morning, I didn't get far. Instead, I walked to get coffee. I tried some P90x exercise. I made some French toast for Tucker before he went to work, still my mood was zooming south. I decided to try to pull up from my plunging mood with a bike ride.
I have to go about a mile on the road until I get to the bike path. Once on the path, I tried to live in the moment. I felt the cool wind on my arms and cheeks. I heard the sound of traffic in the bridges that passed over the path.
The sky was a beautiful blue, fighting the haze that will come as the temperatures rise today.

This is a shot across the Scioto River of an old high school that now houses our Science museum called COSI.

As I cycled down the trail, I smelled the earth and the trees damp still from last night's rain.
The sun was slowly rising from the east making shadows of trees on the black bike path.

I saw traffic standing still as the city closed streets in preparation for the July 4th celebration. I saw families camping out in their tents to save their spot for firework viewing. The temptature is supposed to be in the 90s the next week. I can't imagine the celebration is that appealing, to camp out for two days before the fireworks.
The families who were not camping had cordonned off spots in the grass with yellow and orange caution tape.

I swerved through a family of geese and they hissed at me.
I saw city worker after city worker preparing for the celebration.
Then I biked south of the city past the fountains

 to the Audubon center where the sounds of birds mingled with the far off drone of traffic.

Hoping to leave my bad mood behind, I biked home again.
No sprints. No mountains. No winners or losers.
 Just me and my bike on a lovely, breezy day.

French and Strong Constitutions

Somewhere, in the many blogs I stop by, someone was planning to focus on France and all things French for July. I can't find it right now, but I'll link to it once I find it again. Okay, I found it and it's called Paris in July, as Esme from Chocolates & Croissants pointed out.  And Paris in July is sponsored the Thyme for Tea and Bookbath. Do you think that since it's Paris rather than France I'll have to narrow my focus? Nah, I'll just stick to France.
You know I'm in for focusing on France in July, or any other month, although I may get distracted by things like my kids or sports or teaching.
I thought I'd start with a photo I love from our friends' apartment in Nantes.

Our friends live on the top floor, which allows for gorgeous views of the cathedral on one side and the castle on the other. And guess what? Their building does not have an elevator. They walk this circular flight to the top floor (5 floors, I think) everyday, several times a day. They don't complain. It is probably what keeps them so healthy.

When Earl and I watch House Hunters International, we always scoff at the American couples who refuse to buy a place without an elevator.

I don't want you to feel like you walked up this winding staircase for no reason, so here's a shot of the sunset out one of the windows.

 Happy France month.

P.S. I have electricity back, but still no Internet service.