Busy Weekend

 

It’s that time of year. When we all have to go to family reunions.

I love family. But not the long lost type.

We youngsters rebel by refusing to write our real name on our “badges”.

I believe that if we are at a family reunion, and I don’t know your name, and you don’t know mine, there’s probably a very good reason for that.

But, it’s not all bad. Actually, July 4th weekend is pretty awesome
around here because my Grandparents throw a huge partay complete
with lots of mostly illegal fireworks.

We even have a division of the Idaho Russet Cannoneers.

While some states have passed laws trying to make them illegal, the good ‘ole Department of Treasury Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms says:

“We have determined that these devices, as described, are not firearms provided that they are used solely for launching potatoes for recreational purposes.”

If you have never been around a potato gun, you are missing out. on. life.

Oh. And if you husband isn’t comfortable enough to wear a glittery hat, then he’s
missing out too. Or maybe you’re missing out. Maybe you’re both missing out.

Live a little…

…and enjoy Independence Day Weekend!!!!!!

(2011 Pictures coming next week.)

Oh Paris. Where are you?

 

I need Paris right now. I have been an expat to the fullest this week.

Anti- anything American. The food, the clothes, the culture. The food.
Did I mention American food?

I need France.

I need to be around people who don’t make fun of my husband’s skinny pants and scarves.

I need people who don’t look at me weird when I want to throw the nasty Cheddar’s food back at the waiter.

I need to live in a place where family values trump the corporate dollar. A place where you don’t have to be an A-student to be happy. A place where I am valued more for my cooking skills than being a member of a club with Greek letters.

A place where I can stroll with a piece of bread in my hand and no-one will care.

I just need a good ‘ole dose of Paris.

Zsa Zsa Bellagio

 

When I discover awesome blogs, I try to share them!

This week I found the delightful Zsa Zsa Bellagio!

I love all the neat ideas for fashion, parties and a simply beautiful life.

Check it out!

Loving Life

I saw this quote somewhere this morning, so true.

"Taking joy in living is a woman's best cosmetic."

Rosalind Russell
 

There’s a certain freedom that comes with fully embracing the ups and downs of life.
You have to enjoy the process of living, not continually wishing for the next step, the next item, or the next new thing.

And you have to choose to love life. It’s a decision, not a gift.

Love life.

Talk to the Shrink.

 

Remember this dress from yesterday’s post?

 

I washed it after I wore it that day.

It shrunk at least 6 inches.

I’m sad.

I’m taking it back.

But I’m still sad.

I really love stripes.

Squibb and the mud/laundry/wash room

 

Which name is it? Is the title of this room defined by some etiquette that I haven’t heard of yet? Why does the English language have at least 3 terms to describe
my little room?

This week my Dad, Andraé, and my Father-in-law worked on my little
laundry room.

It has been about 5 years since any major work had been done, so it needed a fresh coat of paint, a new door, and a good update.

• My Dad is an awesome carpenter/owns a log home construction company,
  so he contributed by putting in a new door and storm door. Our previous door had windows in it, and it would have been so easy for a break-in.
  Plus it was ugly.
• My Husband is a workhorse, so he scrubbed, and cleaned, and painted while
  I studied for an economics exam.
• My FIL is an all-around handyman, he knows something about everything. He fixed a few bumps in the walls, painted, fixed lawn mowers, etc.
  He really is great to have around.

My laundry room is now clean enough to lick the floor. Just in time for the facial party that I hosted last night. (I didn’t take pictures, but I’m planning a Vlog about Jordan Essentials sometime soon.)

One of my hardworking men:

This is what my husband says is a blog-worthy photo of me inspecting his paint job.
I was like, “Honey, you have to coach me here. I don’t know what I look like. Help me out. I can’t post this on my blog.

But I posted it anyway. Because I love this dress.

Laundry room:

I have went back and forth for a couple years about painting it another color, but I absolutely love how bright the room is in the morning as the sun shines in. The laundry room always feels so open and airy, so why ruin a good thing by painting?

Fresh flowers from my garden:

Andraé and his Dad built the awesome shoe shelves when they remodeled our house. There’s another one in our bedroom closet. I couldn’t live without them.

\

I got up Thursday morning envisioning bright green in the laundry room.

Rug. $5. Target.

I love it. I think I’ll go buy them out.

 

And this is Squibb.

Squibb was trying to sabotage my rug-picture-taking-skills.

I named him Squibb before promptly dispatching him to ant heaven.

Joplin.

 

I have friends in Joplin right now, and they say the destruction is so much more horrible than they could have ever imagined.

I found this video tonight, I think it may be the most intense thing I have ever watched (or listened to.) As products of a Hollywood society, we are so used to
extreme violence, destruction and terror. We’ve all watched movies full of
blood, gore, and screams.

 

About 3 minutes into the video, it suddenly
hits you that the screams are real.

A Bird.

 

Has anyone else heard about the Emperor Penguin that came ashore in New Zealand this month?

 

 

This dude swam 2000 miles to experience life on the beach.

You can read about it here.

A couple years ago, my incredibly talented cousin wrote an awesome
story about a penguin and a tropical bird, who, on opposite sides of the world, decide
that they want to experience what life has to offer.

It’s the hilarious tale of two birds and their sidekicks. She only wrote 4 “chapters”,
but it was so awesome.

I’m going to fuss at her though, She had a blogger account that wasn’t working, so she moved to Word Press. I just read the story again a few weeks ago, but it’s gone now! I actually wrote this post with the sole intention of posting links.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure that the above penguin must be the real-life Meuse.

Good night now.

Oh, and you must meet the aforementioned cousin, the Fair Mouquette.

Comment and ask her to revive “Parrot and Penguin”, the story.

youtoo.

A friend posted a video of U2 on his FB, and it reminded me of how much I love them.

Almost as much as I love Queen.

Normandie, Caen: Day 5, Part 2

 

Drive from Honfleur to Caen

12th Century church in Villerville

Another cat!

New bridge at Pegasus Bridge, Ranville

Pegasus Bridge
On the night of June 5, 1944
the Brits left England and landed near this German-held bridge via gliders.
Taking the bridge was the first victory of D-Day, with the mission completed
within 10 minutes.

The first building recaptured by the Allies on D-Day:

I liked the coo’s.

 

Our next stop was Caen, to see the D-Day museum.

I wrote a post about Caen in honor of D-Day a few weeks ago.
You can read that here.

Caen Cathedral Ruins

 

Abbaye aux Hommes
(Men’s Abbey)

 

Manoir du Quesnay is next!

Normandie, Honfleur & Caen: Day 5

 

In my last post, I talked about how we decided to take a ferry across the English Channel to France.

Boarding the ferry was a little overwhelming that night. It was cold, rainy, and 3 o’clock in the morning when we finally boarded the ship.

The ferry was run by the shipping company LD Lines. Somehow I assumed that it was an English ship (maybe because the website is in English), so I was surprised when the
man at the top of the stairs greeted us with:

“Bonjour, bienvenue à la Côte d'Albâtre,
comment puis-je vous aider?”

 

UHH. I was planning on brushing up on my French en-route, not on my way up the stairs.

We smiled and walked on past, pretending that we understood everything he had said.

After a harrowing 5-minute search for our cabin, we quickly settled in for the rest of the night. I say harrowing because we were exhausted, everything was in French, and
we had no idea if I had bought “reclining seats” or the “bed-seats” in an enclosed area.

We eventually found our “beds”, two giant chairs that fold down into a full-bed, in a room with about 20 other people. Like a red-eye flight.

This was the first time in 6 days that I was actually warm! They gave us huge, fuzzy
blankets (probably full of fleas and bed bugs) that I wrapped around myself 10 times.

Have I mentioned how cold it is England?

Do you know what a sight like below does for a Francophile like me?
It makes you freak out and squeal just a little bit.

 

Pont de Normandie, crossing the Seine River.

We crossed the magnificent Pont de Normandie, going from Le Havre to Honfleur.

 

Honfleur, the old lady on the Seine

 

Lunch at one of the creperies below: mussels, pommes frites, pasta, and of course, crepes!

Before I continue with Honfleur pictures, I have to tell you about the stuffed crepes joke in our family.

Where: Driving past a McDonald’s on the way to a birthday weekend in the mountains

What: McDonald’s sign, first line says “Now Hiring”, second line says “Stuffed Crepes”

I said: “Now hiring stuffed crepes?”

Now I get teased mercilessly.

Back to Honfleur.

Houses in Normandie have cool little sculptures on their chimneys, lots of cats.

Au Revoir !!

London & Portsmouth: Day 4, continued

May 12, 2010
Wednesday
England
Day 4, London and Portsmouth.

 

 

I left you on my last travel post in Whitehall, London as we finished up lunch at the Clarence Pub.

 

I haven’t mentioned this before, but on each day on our trip, I drew a quick sketch of my
favorite memory. Read the last post (above link) if you need more clarification on why
I might be running behind a tube train.

 

After lunch, our plan was to see Trafalgar square, maybe hit the Nat’l Gallery if we were freezing to death (free heat),
and then continue to Buckingham Palace.

We then had 6:30 pm bus tickets for Portsmouth! France here we come!

 

Trafalgar Square

 

I love Trafalgar Square because the Brits do things like this:

Almost 14,000 people singing “Hey Jude” with Pink in Trafalgar Square.

The best thing about London is its diversity. One thing we both noticed this
time is that you rarely hear English being spoken by passersby on the street.
London is such a fun, diverse and cosmopolitan city.

 

Buckingham Palace

 

 

Portsmouth

Unfortunately we didn’t really get to spend any time in the city of Portsmouth, but we had
some really interesting experiences getting there, and then while sitting in the ferry port.

First, you are probably wondering why we were sitting in a ferry port.

We decided that we really wanted to take a ferry across the English Channel for sentimental reasons.
We are both history buffs, and people have been crossing the channel since time began. Too many interesting
and life changing moments have taken place on the channel. Need I mention Romans, Vikings,
William the Conqueror, Spanish Armada and D-DAY?

My ancient heart couldn’t bear the thought of speeding across on a bullet train.

This is why we sat in a ferry port.

We took a coach through National Express ($36 for two) from London to Portsmouth.

The ride was one of my favorite parts of the trip, because we got to spend time with
real English people, instead of tourists and Londoners. (I guess Londoners don’t
count as genuine Brits.)

There were only 4 other passengers on the 2 hour ride, and it was so much
fun to talk to them and listen about their lives as we made stops in little
”normal” English towns.

The lady across from us lived about an hour outside London, but she took the
coach into the city every day to watch her grandchildren while her daughter
was at work.

These are the people who take the same coach, morning and evening,
and the relationship with the bus driver is interesting. It’s a life I envy.
When you actually have to take public transportation, you get to know the
people around you.

*Funny note:
The driver thought we were from Australia.
I have laughed and laughed over this. The poor guy couldn’t place Andraé's
very “unique” accent.

 

So Portsmouth! Yup, this is the only picture I got from southern England:

But there is a story.

 

When we get to the ferry port, we find out that our 8:30ish ferry departure
has been delayed by a couple hours or so. The ferry was delayed on its
return from Portugal. Knowing that we would be there awhile, we took-over one of the seating
areas, barring anyone from entering our little haven. (So much for speeches
on befriending strangers.)

While Andraé went to grab some questionable looking dinner, I settled into my seat,
ready to relax.

But, as luck would have it, we have a crazy in the house.

“HEY!! WHY YOU HAVE TO DO THAT!”

“SHUT-UP!”

”WHY DO YOU TALK BAD ABOUT HER!”

“I JUST DON’T WANT TO HEAR HER TALK!!”

”IS THAT ALL YOU KNOW HOW TO SAY?!!”

So… this drunk French guy is trying to sleep, but he can’t
so he starts yelling at a lady across the building.

Apparently, she was having a profanity-laced conversation with a
friend, and he didn’t like it.

Departure time comes and goes, we have now been delayed until 3:30 am.
This riles M. Frenchie, and he starts again.

“HOW MUCH YOU BEING PAID TO TALK LIKE THAT!?? HUH, HUH?”

Security is called this time (above pic)
and he is escorted out of the building.

Finally! We can get some sleep!

Around 2 am, I sensed a commotion and woke up to see police officers entering the building.

“Oh great, what now?” I asked myself.

Then I noticed the crazy French dude sitting about 15 feet away, trying to hide underneath a parka.
Apparently he snuck back in and someone spotted him.

The Portsmouth police had to drag him kicking and screaming to jail.

It was great!

 

The ferry came, we boarded, we floated across the channel, we slept…

We woke up in France.