A Little Champagne

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The total train wreck, holy terror of last week came to a fast clean-up and hault Friday night when my best friend of 17 years( who I haven’t seen in a year) showed up on my doorstep.  There’s something about the presence of a long time true friend that can cure the most miserable of moods.  The grey clouds parted and sunshine and singing birds magically appeared in our apartment.  I’m not going into details about last week; those most close to me know it was rather difficult, but like all things, it came to an end.

Cheers

So who is this best friend of mine?  A girl with the most amazing last name—Kerri Champagne.  Isn’t that fantastic?  However, out of respect for her sweet husband it’s now Kerri Champagne Went.  Yes, her champagne went, but that’s Ok.  We knew how to find it thanks to the Chef.  A little chilled bubbly and some French Orangina and voila her Champagne was back!  We spent the weekend strolling around Galveston with the Chef in tow.  We did a little sunbathing at the beach and fed some seagulls.  Ate shrimp and oysters, headed over to Patty Cakes for some cupcakes, did some shopping at a few boutiques. We did what girls do best—giggle, be silly and try on pretty dresses and such.  Not to mention we had our own personal chef and photographer along for the ride.

The most enjoyable part of the weekend was not the food—though the Chef outdid himself like always—nor was it the champagne or the endless shopping but the enjoyment we had just being together.

The Chef had the idea that I should get my closet organized for Paris.  Who better to help than my fashionista partner in crime!  So there we were two girls with nothing better to do than put together outfits–*bliss*.

Making a pile for *Paris*, a pile for *Storage*, a pile for *Kerri To Take* a pile for *Mom* and a pile to * Ship for Winter.* Since the Chef is also the pack mule when it comes to hauling the luggage around the airport I’ve been limited to only two suit cases—little does he know I’m going to sneak another in at the last minute…hehe.  It must have been midnight when we realized we were getting tired.  At this point we were no longer coming and going from the closet but found ourselves sitting in a mass of shoes with clothes hanging on either side of us.  Our laughter and giggles had turned to yawns and sleepy eyes.  The Chef was so entranced with Kerri’s IPhone and the game Angry Birds he too was rather clueless to the time and was fading fast.  With the multiple hour long fashion show over, we said goodnight to an evening and weekend we will both cherish and remember forever—for our next fashion, champagne and cupcake encounter may just be in Paris…if I can get her on a plane! Au revoir mon ami … Tu vas me manquer!  Goodbye my friend…I will miss you!

Those birds laugh which in my opinion is better than singing!

The Dauphine Enters France

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Something for my dearest Antoinette— a little late in posting, but I’ve been preoccupied with agonizing over another era–20th century WWI.

“Covering her eyes, sometimes with her handkerchief and sometimes with her hands, now and then putting her head out of the carriage to take another look at the palace of her ancestors which she was never more to enter—Vienna receded in the far distance.  Antoinette was on her way into a new life.”

Today marks an event which changed the course of history for not only one helpless individual but an entire nation, the world—and if I may–*my history*.    May 7, 1770 was the official “handing over” day or remise for Archduchess Marie Antoinette.  Never could she have imagined that when her silken slippers touched French soil, and left the neutral ground which lay in the middle of the Rhine, the divider between the two realms, that her life would be full of one torrential event after another.  Of course there were happy times for Antoinette, but limited they were indeed.

On this spring day in May 1770 the foreboding storms that raged outside of the salle de remise, should have been clues to the life she was  to live.  However, her naivety and youth saved her from the realities of what was in store.

Then again, what a blessing it is to not know your destiny—would she have taken that step from neutral ground?  No one would have.  For the cataclysmic events that shook France many years after her arrival spread waves of social change across the entire world like ripples in pond.  Was she to blame—some argue yes, others no?  The answer lies somewhere in between.

So thank you Antoinette for taking that step—who knows what France and the rest of the world may have turned out like if you had not!

Carolly Erickson, To The Scaffold The Life of Marie Antoinette. (NY: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), 59.

Home Part II…the Chef’s Momma

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As promised here is the second half of our wonderful long Easter weekend home.

Traveling to the Chef’s mother’s house is always a treat and a little unexpected at times; you never know what kind of news she’s going to profess!  Once while visiting for Christmas a large moving type truck appeared in her driveway.  Now she has been known to move–a lot, but at Christmas? We all thought the person was lost.  Instead of moving she was getting all new living room furniture.  Thank goodness it wasn’t a moving truck.  She not only likes giving surprises but loves being surprised!

From the first time I set foot in Patty’s house 11 years ago, I knew she was one of kind; the quintessential Betty Crocker with a southern charm.  She was full of talent and delightful to be around.  I instantly knew where my husband (boyfriend at the time) got his winning personality.  She was actually Paula Dean, before there was Paula Dean.  While whisking around her kitchen wearing her blue jean and red bandanna apron she glided from the steak that was chickening frying in the skillet to setting the table for dinner–a dinner where she and I (her son’s new girlfriend that she met minutes before) dined alone; the boys were out doing boy things.  This could have made for a really awkward situation, since I was new to her and she was new to me, but it wasn’t.  It was if I knew her my whole life.  Over sips of sweet tea and conversation we got to know one another—ultimately learning we shared friendships with the same people.  Overall it was a splendid meeting.   Now that she has three grown sons she’s acquired three daughters to add to her brood.  Since I’m married to the son the other brothers call the *favorite* I’d like to think I’m the *favorite daughter-in-law*.  I’m sure she can’t really say it, but I see the twinkle in her eye when I arrive—just like it did 11 years ago over that glass of sweet tea.

If there’s one thing you can count on there being plenty of…it’s the food and there’s always a variety.  Patty has a long tradition of making homemade goodies.  I would assume it’s in her Bohemian blood. Turning out dozens of kolaches, tea rings, cakes, yeast rolls, jellies, preserves, pickled this and that—you name it, she’s made it.  In fact, before she and the Chef had the Holly Road Café, there was Patty’s Pantry—where she made baskets of her goodies from her own *portable* kitchen, *portable* being a classic word in this family.

Since the Chef and his momma share a common love of cooking, naturally he’s always in the kitchen with her or by the BBQ pit making sure the main star of the meal is tenderly being cared for.  This Easter, the Chef worked the pit—carefully babying the brisket.  He also had some time preparing the family’s traditional yeast rolls.  A little tidbit about Patty’s yeast roll recipe—it’s like the royal jewels of the British monarchy—highly protected and coveted by all.  A long time joke between the older brother and I was that once I married into the family I could be given the recipe.  Just last year for Christmas I was given only a partial copy of the handwritten recipe–which by the way had been kept in a locked metal fireproof box!  I guess in another 11 years I will be given the other half.  I’m not holding my breath!

While they were cooking, I was bird watching.

Like I’ve mentioned in the post before, going home is always refreshing.  A much needed oasis from our busy lives.  Lives which will very soon be even busier and turned upside down–we’ll miss that feeling of comfort which only family can give.  Guess they’ll just have to come visit us.

Duker...one of Patty's many surprises!

Home with the Pear…Part I

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Home at the Park Hotel

There really isn’t anything better than spending time with the ones you love.  Going home has a way of bringing a sense of appreciation for the little things in life—the cherished moments with family.  Equally nice is the comfort that surrounds home—the no real sense of responsibility (mom and dad take over), unconditional love, soulful cooking, laughter and togetherness.

So for the Easter holiday the *Pear* took time to appreciate those little things by loading up the beloved MINI complete with dog, college homework, laptops and a change of clothes—all in route to South Texas.  Since it’s spring, we knew (or at least hoped) the wildflowers would be doing what they do best—blooming with all their might.  Glorious photography opportunities would await us!  Unfortunately, due to the severe drought that seems to have taken over the state, the spectacle of Bluebonnets, Indian blankets, Bluebells, Coreopsis, Mexican Hats and the always stunning Gayfeathers were missing or rather sparse this year.  To make up for their absence we opted for the next best thing—an array of wild birds.

It took me hours to capture this handsome beauty.

Coral Vine...one of the only flowers blooming.

 My home is a historic Texas landmark–The Park Hotel, which turns 101 years old this year.  It’s also home to a delightful pair of eclectic somewhat vintage classic individuals *my precious parents*.  There’s a large array of antiques–which are for *SALE*–(I cannot stress that word enough), a polar bear like dog (named Bear), an extremely happy loving mutt (named Zoe), a few cats with various names like Peanut and Freckles, and many other creatures and fabulous treasures.  It takes on a museum/menagerie like quality no doubt!

 
My favorite place on the property—is sitting in one of the many rocking chairs that line the veranda.  Guided by the cool evening breeze- their movement seems to harmonize with the serenading birds that sing their final solos before roosting for the night; tranquility at its finest.  If one is quiet, the sound of the elusive whistling tree duck can be heard over the ranting of a Texas mocking bird.

Yes, those are ducks sitting in a tree.

Next blog….a visit with the Chef’s mother.

Destiny and the #15?

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Today’s post is probably going to be the most random I’ll ever do.  Why?   Well…a totally random thing happened in my overly structured and synchronized *go to work, come home, study, do it all again* kind of life that repeats 5 days a week.  Maybe I’m just thinking too much or reading into things that really have no meaning…but here it is anyway.  Possibly someone could explain…or not and just enjoy the randomness.

Came home today at 5:15.  Some reason I looked at the clock as I walked through the living room.  Went out to walk my darling Bailey boy and peered down on the pavement to notice a sprinkling of not one, two, or three pennies but a handful of 10 and a nickel, that makes 15 cents.  Now, we all know finding a penny is a pretty common thing (maybe not so much lately).  Sometimes I even pass them by, but a handful…that’s  like winning the lottery ( well maybe the lottery of the 18th century) but it was still a thrill.

As I made my way from penny to penny, I looked around to see if anyone had spotted me bending here and there while at the same time dragging a lazy dog behind me.  Nope… so at this point I began to think.  15…what does this mean? A sign from something greater than myself?  Here I go, *thinking outside my think* (only the Chef will understand that line).  A normal person wouldn’t have thought twice, well not me.  15…oh yes, June 15, the Chef and I move into our new apartment in Paris.  Hmm….interesting.

So here I go, walking through the parking lot to the mailboxes.  Still thinking…it’s a sign we’re going to be alright in Paris.  Finding money that correlates to the day we are to set up our home, that’s positive.

(Key slides into mailbox) Out comes a note from Netflix which has details about friends joining for a month free, yada, yada, blah, blah and then…there it was *offer expires June 15th* ! What the heck?  Is that a good omen or bad or does it even matter?  We make our own destinies right?  Does anyone else think I’m thinking too much?   Probably so..