thanks emily

Playdates for my kids here soon, I'm sure

Thanks to Emily from Sacramento for letting me know that my good friend Angelina may be purchasing a $60m estate in France, instead of the run-down pile of stones she was supposedly buying two months ago for $10m (now it turns out she might be renting...). Interestingly, this new house is an hour closer to Mougins. Since she hasn't called me yet I can only assume she realized the other place was just too far away from us. Plus it was a dump. I understand.

new for me

I don't eat yogurt. I always think it should taste so yummy when I open the plastic and see that creamy smooth dairy product glistening back at me. But as soon as I get the yogurt up to my nose, my tongue says "oh no you don't!"

Until now. "La Fermiere" yogurt* (vanilla flavour) is not only delicious, it comes in these cute little ceramic pots. Normally the pots are made in this terracotta color, but new for spring, it comes in these lovely lilac-colored pots as well.


*purchased at Champion, 2 pots for 2.08 euros. More expensive at Casino. Don't know about Carrefour, Auchan, or LeClerc.

memorial day

Coat of Arms of the Largest American Cemetery in France

Dave posting again. I just want to say this...

Our neighbor down the lane, Roger (Ro-ZHAY), is 71 years old and one of the nicest people you'll meet. But he is also outspokenly critical of the Bush administration, the Iraq War, and American energy consumption. Sometimes it's hard to hear his criticisms. After all, we'll always be proud Americans.

About two weeks ago I stopped to talk to him when we saw each other on our street. During our conversation Roger told me that during World War II his father had housed and fed soldiers from the French Resistance, who were fighting to liberate France from the occupying Germans. The penalty for helping the French Resistance was arrest and prison, if not death on the spot.

One night, when Roger was six years old, German soldiers knocked on the door of his house. Because his father had recently been hiding some Resistance soldiers there, Roger said he and his brother were terrified. Afraid that they had been found out by the soldiers, afraid that the Germans would take their father, afraid that they might never see him again.

Turns out, Roger said, that they were planning a party and just wanted to buy an animal or two for the event. They agreed on a price, the soldiers left happy, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I will never forget how frightened I was," he said. And he leaned towards my car window and looked at me. "And I will never forget what the Americans did for us," he said. "And my children will never forget it. We will never forget it."

He's not the only one who feels this way. I drove away with tears in my eyes.

today on the cote d'azur . . . .

what are you watching?

The French are in blue. The miracles start at -3:15.

This is Dave. This blog can't always be about cherry pie.

On Saturday June 7th in Basel, Switzerland is the first match of the 2008 European football (soccer) championships. This tournament isn't well-known in the United States, but in Europe it evokes passion the likes of which Americans can only understand when they watch this.

In 2004 we had just returned from living in England when the French played the English in the Euro 2004 tournament. In one of the most improbable matches in years, the French were losing 1-0 at full time when in injury time they scored a goal to tie it, and less than a minute later scored to win the match. Incredible.

Having just returned from England I was terribly disappointed to see Beckham & Co lose to the French. Our English friends felt much worse than even I did. But now, four years later, as I watched the above clip tonight, being able to understand the announcers (for the most part anyway) and knowing many of the players, I felt great pride as I watched the French win. I realize that I've changed: I root for the French now because I love them. I love them because now - at least in my own way - I understand who they are.

One of life's great secrets is that the joy you get from it often just depends on how you feel about what happens while you're watching.

I have a problem

The problem is that a lot of refrigerators in France do not have built-in ice-makers. I personally am not in possession of this luxury. Luckily my good friend is, because I have another problem:

It is called "crushed ice." I love to chew crushed ice. I don't know why. Maybe I am iron deficient. In the US, I could get crushed ice at my house, Circle K, and the best crushed ice at a Mexican food chain called Bajio. You know, the kind they give you in the hospital. Oh, it's so good. Soft and crunchy at the same time.

So my friend thoughtfully brings me little freezer bags filled with crushed ice from her "American" refrigerator. Every time I pour some o.j. or my .27 euro cent per litre version of diet coke over those little slivers of frozen water, the sound of the ice crackling makes my taste buds water and my teeth get all happy with anticipation.

I hope I don't break a tooth, because I'm sure I can't afford a large dental procedure in France.

a lovely couple

Casino supermarche sells this cute little couple for just a couple of euros. Seems like yesterday that they got together.

another job well done

Bry Carter (right) is relieved of duty May 22, 2008

I'm so proud to have a brother who served for more than 20 years in the United States Navy. After many long tours at sea away from his family, I hope he can spend the next 20 years or so taking some voyages with his family!

Love you, Bry.

job well done

The cherry tree yielded a good crop. Everyone had a great time picking the cherries! If my sister were here, I'm sure she would make cherry pie or something. Oooh, maybe I should learn how to make cheesecake from scratch!

no nationality

Today the kids went for their first real swim of the year. The water in the pool in my opinion is freezing, but the kids didn't seem to mind. I was standing literally three feet away from Carter with my back turned when he fell into the water. I heard nothing until Sam said in a fairly regular voice, "Carter fell in."

I have jumped in the pool many times before to help one of my struggling children. And today was no different. Dressed in jeans and a white shirt, with just once glance to locate my baby, I was in that chilly water.

Love, whether it is for your child, a friend, or a stranger is a powerful force that needs no translation and lives within no boundary.

from a 17 year-old's blog

Found by 'mon cheri' in Southern Utah

What a hidden gem this post is. A picture of 34 gallons for $2.06? In France you can't even get 34 gallons for two hundred six dollars. Great post, my dear! And she loves Travis, too. How cool is that?

smells good around here

When some friends came for lunch, they brought me this lovely bottle of "pillow water". I couldn't resist spraying it everywhere.

Fragonard, in the nearby town of Grasse makes perfumes and all kinds of lovely smelling things, but you may also recognize the name from this:

"The Reader" by Jean Honore Fragonard
(cousin to the perfume Fragonard's)

dear readers

By visiting my blog, you have knowingly entered a very small slice of my life. As with any blog, you have made the choice to visit.

While I appreciate and love comments, if you feel offended in any way, please keep your negative energy away from my blog.*

I write to keep track of my experiences in France, the good, bad, ugly and weird. Who's to say what is good, bad, ugly or weird? On my blog, it's me. On your blog, do what you like.

Have a happy Wednesday!

*p.s. don't be afraid to unblock your e-mail when making a comment! That way it is easier for me to respond directly.

on may 21, 1927

Charles Lindbergh landed in a field near Paris, becoming the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean. You can read the entire New York Times article here.

It does a beautiful job of describing the euphoria that was felt in France more than 80 years ago when Lindbergh landed:

"Vive l'Americain" the Cry
For several minutes [in Paris] this cry was renewed until the proprietor of a motion picture house unfurled a little American flag, which was greeted with cheer upon cheer and which became the mightiest pro-American demonstration seen in France since the days of the war, when, as the Yankee troops landed, three large American flags beside the French Tricolor hung from Le Matin's window in the glare of searchlights.

There could be no mistaking the sincerity of these cheers which were prolonged as a Frenchman in the crowd rushed up to the American demonstrators, wringing their hands in congratulations.

Even in 1927 the French were as nice as ever. I love them.

a few more

a little sussy posted a bunch of photos of our family yesterday, taken on Saturday May 10th. This is one of my favorites, but go to her blog to see them all. People like us don't look this good without a great photographer...