Year of the Paris Planning
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| My 1903 English-French Dictionary |
"To those who appreciate wistaria and sunshine. Small mediaevel Italian Castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be let Furnished for the month of April. Necessary servants remain."
Her Italian April leaves her and those around her changed forever.
After that I became hard-core and started reading Italian Guide books like they were romance novels. Soon I found a wonderful Tuscan cookbook and announced to my little family of men that we would be "going to Italy for a time". I hung a romantic netting over our wooden picnic table out under the trees, and every night I cooked a different meal from my new recipes. After a couple of days of this and blissfully pretending I was on holiday, my youngest looked at me and said, "Can we go home now? I'm tired of Italy." And so it goes, Dear Reader.
One year was the Year of Hair. Yes, that sounds either vaguely frightening, or terribly vain. Actually it was neither, just sheer desperation. You see, I've had long hair my whole life (*note- many magazines claim to have styles for long hair and then show strands that lightly touch the shoulder. This is unhelpful when one's hair is nearer the waist than the shoulder ) and yet I could not successfully do what I call a simple "horse" braid on my own hair. Enter The Year of the Hair! That sounds like a kung-fu movie, and you might have thought that was appropriate if you had seen me trying to maneuver myself in ways to attempt all the fabulous braids that Pinterest holds out to you like the golden apple of desire...
Suffice to say that after a year of effort and anger and threats just to cut it all off already! I can now do a fishbone braid, and a twisted halo kind of thing. Yes, just two styles, but you have no idea what an effort it was for me to master those. Instead of two left feet, I have two feet for hands. But I digress.
Last year was the year of Paris Dreaming, which found me cooking anything even vaguely French. I had already perused Peter Mayle's books A Year in Provence, French Lessons, and Toujours Provence. In these books he writes about how he and his wife moved to France and became immersed (often in very amusing ways) in the traditions, quirks, food, and culture of the French people. Much like my Italian phase I then went back in time with a circa 1930's book by Lady Winnifred Fortescue called Perfume from Provence. Both writers have the dry English humor that made me alternately smirk and snort. But then, when they waxed rhapsodic about the food, flowers, and general wonder of "French-ness", I wistfully sighed.
No more sighing, Dear Reader! I have decided in recent years that dreaming is beautiful, but action (though scary) is ultimately rewarding. So this January I told my Dearest Friend that she and I are going to Paris. Not maybe, might, should, or could, but ARE! It will be perfect. We are so alike that we never tire of each other's company. We both adore history, art, old churches, the sacred, the silly, the just plain beautiful. What could be more perfect?
How will this happen, you ask? I have been teaching 3 homeschool classes out of my house: two high school biology classes, and a cooking class. I also had a booth last fall at the Lincoln Apple Festival selling jellies, jams, and cakes. Add to this any other sundry item that I have made money on, and you have the start of a Paris nest egg. Every dime has been saved, minus tithing and charitable contributions.
I don't exactly trust banks with my little stash. My grandpa used to always tell grandma that they should put their savings in the mattress to keep it safe. Instead, they lost a large amount on the stock market. Ever after grandma would say that if she'd just listened to him they'd still have a mattress full of money. Mine is not in my mattress. What if I contracted a terrible fever that left me unconscious and incontinent and I wee'd on my Paris money?! Unthinkable. Both the disease and the weeing, I am highly continent, thankyouverymuch. But such are the ideas that run through my tiny mind. No, my money is safe in a big blue Mason jar with a zinc lid, where I can literally watch my money grow. It is hidden away, safe (and water-tight), until I need it.
Once I decided that this was really going to happen I began to find a plethora of French guides at the library book sales. Some are a bit outdated, like the Paris Walking Tours, but honestly, the position of cathedrals and parks has not changed in hundreds of years, nor the eight since the book was published. Can you see all the sticky tabs hanging out of the eating guide? I just have a tiny amount of places that I want to sample from. I cross referenced both the walking tours and the eating guide with Rick Steves guide and have come up with an itinerary.
Have you ever seen pictures of the inside of Le Train Bleu? If you haven't, do it now! I'll wait. This is just one of the places I have to go. Some reviewers say the food is sublime, others mediocre. But pretty much everyone can agree that the interior is worth the visit, no matter the food or service. I will sit in my seat and squirm happily like an overeager puppy just to be there! (Did you notice the words "I will"? I'm becoming so firm and self assured- ha!)
Soon after I began to make Paris plans my boys and I were out and about. Coming home through a tiny community that doesn't even have a population sign anymore, I spied a yard sale. The menfolk were gracious enough to let me hop out and I found a gorgeous bargain. I have never had luggage before, in early days we packed in a trash bag. Later we became sophisticated enough for rubber totes. But these cherry red lady's suitcases screamed, "Take me to Paris!" So I obligingly paid the $2 for two suitcases. A couple of weeks later I found a matching one in the larger size at Goodwill for $4. Who says God doesn't smile on adventurous dreaming?
When will this extravaganza of excitement happen? Next May, Dear Reader, May 2018. Until then I will be plotting, planning, and practicing my French.
Bon nuit, mon ami!
*footie-note- if you want a drool-worthy visual feast of French-ness, look at my Pinterest account . I'm under Ms. Sam Mullen Doss . I have a board named France (what else?) that will make you want to don a beret and eat a chocolate filled croissant in front of an ivy covered cafe. Just warning you...
"Paris is always a good idea." ~Audrey Hepburn
