Little One

Why can't I be more like my dog Anna? She is satisfied with one meal a day and it is always exactly the same. No complaints, no refusal to eat (except when she is on a hunger strike, which is rare) She only drinks water so we never have to make a run to Italy for her when the vodka runs low. All she ever wants to do is exercise, seriously...it is the biggest treat for her. Walking or running makes her happy. She can jump at least 4 feet effortlessly. And I never see her sweat.

Anna is always agreeable to anything. No decision makes her upset, she packs light, never gets cold or hot, requires no special attention or plan. She is spontaneous and always in a good mood.  She is very clean, willing to lick your hands, the dinning room floor or any other spot you require. Anna has no problems relaxing, often sprawling in the center of the hallway or any other place you need to walk through, particularly if you are carrying something heavy and//or hot. She has an uncanny way of knowing in advance where would be the most inconvenient place for her to lay and she promptly lays there.

She has no addictive habits like caffeine and never complains that her feet hurt, head hurts, stomach hurts or that she is tired. In fact, she never complains, no matter what. If we leave her home she doesn't throw a fit. If we wake her up early she never grumbles. Even if we were to stay up all night, with the TV on, she would only sit near enough to be pet, leaning against you.

Anna happily chews on her toys, never gum or candy. She never uses all the hot water and dirties several towels. In fact she produces no laundry what so ever. No personal body products are ever consumed by Anna. She never complains about her pillow or mattress, she happily sleeps on the floor! You never have to change her sheets or buy her new furniture and she never whines about the chairs being uncomfortable.

My mother-in-law Denise spends hours each day talking to Anna about everything and nothing. Denise calls Anna "Little One". Hearing Denise chatting away reminds me of something else extremely valuable about Anna. She keeps secrets. I mean, really keeps them. Although there are times her eyes seem to speak volumes, she never divulges even the raciest, juiciest of tales. She is a vault, locked down!

Anna is never a backseat driver. Nothing fazes her. You can miss the turn, stop short, even forget where you are going and she acts as if she doesn't even notice.

Hopefully no one else in the family will ever catch on to how much more valuable Anna is than me, otherwise I may get left out on the balcony.

Earl Grey

I walk Anna every morning down our street, across the road and down towards the olive tree garden. Sometimes I deviate and we go down the stairs toward the sea. We have a pattern, a rhythm that we follow every morning. Along our way we meet different people and their dogs, some who ignore us and some who lung and bark at Anna (the dogs lung, the people look the other way for the most part). I assume they are barking at Anna. Maybe its really me.

A few days ago I noticed something different. Several feet down the road, along a property that is edged in shrubbery too high to see over and too thick to see through, a scent that could only be described as Earl Grey tea wafted into my senses. I thought the first time I smelled it that I must be imagining it, since I drink Earl Grey every morning and my nose must just be impatient to get home. But day after day since then I have smelled it. Gently lingering at one spot along the shrubbery and then take a few steps and its gone. Like the perfume of an exotic flower just beyond my gaze. Oddly enough, its winter here and nothing is flowering. The evergreens are all that is left of the foliage and spring has not sprung yet. Strange. I like to think someone is sitting just behind those bushes, at a table set for tea with two china cups and saucers painted in a delicate floral design with pink petals. Cucumber sandwiches cut into squares with no crust, scones and biscuits with soft butter and preserves. The tea is steeping in the matching tea pot complete with cozy and all I need to do is cut through the greenery and sit at my spot. And there are spoons, naturally.

This reminds me of the honeysuckle in North Province RI. I would walk Anna around the neighborhood where we lived and there was one spot, down a side street, where you would be walking and suddenly the sweet smell of honeysuckle would flood over you. I spent so much time looking for the actual plant but I could never locate where the smell was coming from. Like a fool, I would turn this way and that, sniffing the air like a hound trying to find the trail of a fox. A few steps beyond and the cloud would vanish. The invisible honeysuckle cloud.  And here we have the invisible Earl Grey tea cloud. 

No hot water

That is what we woke up to today...no hot water. The "new" hot water tank (Only about a year old) that sits suspended on the bathroom wall, was unresponsive. Dennis began the process of finding out why...which led to having to go out to buy new batteries because the volt meter needed new batteries. He ruled out the need for a new fuse and also ruled out the volt meter, since even with a new power source...neither of the two we have here would work. By then the morning nurse had arrived but alas there was no hot water for Denise's shower. Thinking ahead, Dennis had filled our biggest pot with water and heated it on the stovetop (very Money Pit of him) and the nurses used what we had for Denise.

Off to the largest local hardware store for a volt meter, Dennis reappeared 30 minutes later to inform us that the store was closed for lunch, from 12-2PM.  He hadn't even considered this possibility since the store he was visiting was quite large..but they do indeed close down completely for lunch. Imagine your local Home Depot closing from noon to 2PM, for lunch, every single day.

Dennis now heads back out to see if he can locate a volt meter and then return to test the element on the heater and the thermostat. Then once he determines which is failing, he has to return to the store to purchase the part. We may have hot water by dinner! No, that's right...we won't..even if he fixes it today, the water tank takes 4 hours to heat. So we may have hot water tomorrow!!!

Poor Dennis!

In search of Mimosa

Mimosa is a fluffy yellow flower that blossoms in the winter season here along the southern part of France. It is used in the making of perfume and when you find enough of it, the sent is heavy in the air.

So for our Sunday drive, Bernard took us in search of Mimosa and we headed West-ish from Menton up and above Grasse.  Although the season of Mimosa is only just beginning, we found plenty of the bright yellow bushes to feast our eyes upon.

Along the way we also found a rural honey store where we stopped and made a purchase. Once on our way we stopped to pick some of the mimosa that was growing over the road..quickly and with stealth in case we were caught for trespassing.

The search for a perfect luncheon place ensued next but nothing we found had the combination of view, affordability and menu selection that the menfolk could agree on.

Finally, in one valley we found a local hotel that also boasted a restaurant where Bernard and Dennis could finally settle for our meal (mostly because the hour for lunch was late)

We were not disappointed. The service and care was superb and the meal was delightful. From the start to finish (the owner provided a round of drinks on the house as a treat) we sat for over three hours laughing, eating and drinking. I enjoyed my first roasted pheasant experience and had a taste of Dennis' mystery fish special which came filled in a pastry shell with a side of curry couscous. I may have eaten too much bread but it was so wonderful with this perfect chewy crust. I am ashamed to admit that when Bernard wasn't looking, I stuffed three extra rolls into my Michael Kors purse :)

I don't remember much about the ride home because it was A: dark and B: I was in a food induced coma.

Thank you Bernard for another enjoyable outing where we ate traditional French cuisine and drank in the scenery of this lovely country!

Things I've lost, Things I've gained

So here is a silly list I have compiled of the things I miss about the USA when I am in France: (in no particular order)

Free parking almost everywhere I need to go

Microwave popcorn

Chocolate chips

Roads that don't make me carsick when we drive 

My car

My king sized bed

Iced coffee (no, making it at home is NOT the same)

Privacy

My family and friends

Mint frozen yogurt from Publics

A bath tub

Screens on the windows

Air conditioning 

A bathroom and a kitchen I can actually fit in without bruising some part of my body

Speaking the language easily (but still not well)

A dishwasher

A garbage disposal

And on the flip side, this is my missing things about France list that I notice most when I'm stateside:

The views from everywhere you look

The pastry, bread and food available

The sea outside my window

Afternoon naps

The wine 

The cheese (its ridiculous how much is so readily available)

The frozen yogurt (only in the summer, down in Menton)

Anna (since she is here in France now)

Walking by the olive tree garden 

The Roman ruin next door

Walking along the sea with Dennis and Anna

Sunday drives into the mountains and eating out

Bernard cooking for us on Saturdays

The sounds of the sirens here (yes, I like them)

Waking up in the middle of the night to the moon shinning in our bedroom window

The quiet pace of our life here

The constant state of adventure (even going grocery shopping can be an adventure)

Memories of Home

While we were up visiting my family in RI for a week this past December I had some real fun times. Let me tell you about shopping at the Outlet Stores in Wrentham MA with my mom.

To understand this fully you need to know that even in non-holiday seasons, these outlet stores are traps. By traps I mean, you get trapped in traffic starting on the highway off ramp, then trapped in the parking lot, then trapped driving endlessly looking for a parking spot. Then you get trapped in lines with other humans.

But my mother and I both share a common problem. We have impossible feet. Without getting too detailed here, lets say that it is difficulty to find a shoe that fits, looks reasonably well and doesn't cause excruciating pain in several steps.  There are a limited few choices of shoe manufacturers and these outlet stores have several stores within that group. So brave the traps we did.

There was no traffic....we had no trouble finding a parking spot, things we looking good.  The weather was ridiculously cold and windy but we sally forth anyway.  After acquiring a map (naturally) we were able to concentrate on each desired target. The stores were crowded and hot but mostly we were doing well. Until we realized that no, I repeat NO shoes were fitting.

We reach yet another store on our list, packed with woman carrying shoe boxes, husbands carrying purses and children sitting on the benches texting their luckier friends who weren't stuck there.  I find four shoes I think may work, plop down on a bench, strip off my coat, gloves, sneakers and socks..begin to try on some shoes..EPIC FAIL. One pair looked good but felt too tight so I grab my purse and barefoot dash over to the place I found them to get another size. I dash back to my coat, sneakers and other shoe boxes. An ogre of a woman is standing near my things, looming. I proceed to pick up my boxes and sit back down.

"Can I have my sneakers?!" The ogre demands

"Um..I don't know where your sneakers are, I'm sorry" I reply

"You have them! The sales girl left them on this bench!" Ogre slim hits me as it stands a little too close this time.

"No, these are my boxes. They were sitting here where I left them" I explain

Then the ogre proceeds to grab, in its fat sweaty hands, the box at the top of my pile I am holding on my lap. And she walks off to another bench.

Flabbergasted, I simply watch the drama unfold.

She takes off her huge shoe, which had small village children stuck in the tread, pops open my box, discovers my black heels and gets up brandishing her foot ware, storms over to me.

Meanwhile, I notice a massive orange box marked SNEAKERS sitting on the shelf next to me.

The ogre has reached me by now. I reach for my sword but realize I forgot to wear it, thinking I would not need it here at the outlet stores.

"Looking for those?" I ask and point to the gargantuan orange box

 It grunted in reply and grabbing the box, storms off in the other direction.

UNBELIEVABLE

Store number three and I was done! I had enough of this adventure.

Needless to say, neither my mother nor I purchased anything that day, though we tried valiantly. Heading back out to the car I realized again how many silver grey Camrys there are in this world. Too many to be exact.  We could not find the car. Laughing hysterically, and freezing nearly to death, we walked endlessly with me holding the unlock button high above my head like a beacon, pressing the button over and over again in an effort to locate the car. We could hear it but couldn't find it. Where ever it was though, it was definitely unlocked! And I feel certain that the car saw us the entire time. Finally we found it, fell into it and immediately someone was waiting to park in our spot. Leaving the parking lot, the line of cars entering was barely moving and endless. We had just escaped!

Never ever a dull moment when my mom and I decide to do something.

Back to Reality?

I ask it as a question because how "real" can my life be right now? If you stop and think about it, I live in the SOUTH OF FRANCE next to a Roman ruin that was a tomb and that is over 2,000 years old. I walk by it every single day. There I am, walking my dog in the morning, the air is crisp, the local homeless man bids my good morning (I think), the butcher shop opens for the delivery of half a cow, the joggers jostle past me and sea gulls laugh over my head...and I pass a 2,000 year old Roman tomb. Not even close to my reality.

Or is the unreal becoming my real? The abnormal my normal? The impossible becoming...you get the idea.

Driving into Nice last night over a road Napoleon built, I got to thinking about how adaptive humans can be if they allow themselves. I add that because I often feel myself hanging on with both hands to the past, refusing to adapt to the present. Shame, Shame, Shame.  Life can change on you so fast. It feels like minutes ago I was living with Anna in a loft apartment along the Blackstone River, in my next breath I was in a room off my parents' kitchen sleeping on a futon with Anna making mouth noises in the dark of night, curled up on her ratty corduroy pillow next to me. And then I blinked my eyes and I was living in Florida with Dennis listening to the calls of Sand Hill Cranes and alligators barking across the swamp behind our condo. And here I am, living in a flat with my mother-in-law with views of the sea. The Mediterranean Sea.

My reality used to be wearing scrubs everyday, eating lunch in 15 minutes so I could nap in my car under the shady trees of an industrial complex off highway 1. I make a full meal now for lunch and we often sip wine and finish with dessert. I work at my laptop sitting in front of a window that opens to the mountain peak above Monaco. I wash my clothes in something the size of a dishwasher and I have to turn the water heater on hours before I plan on taking a shower because washing the lunch dishes used up all the hot water. I walk my dog along an olive tree garden that holds hundreds of years of memories and I understand nothing that the passing people say.

What will my next breath bring?