More 4th, More BBQ's

My husband thinks all we do in America is wave flags and eat hamburgers and hotdogs. Pretty much true this time of year.
Wayne and Wes marching in the parade on the 4th with the T-ball team.

The Shriners and their funny cars...

My traditional flag cake for the 4th

Aunt Cecile and Uncle Ernest with Estelle

Aunt Yolande out on the porch

Estelle discovers laundry baskets, and climbing into them as a new adventure
Last night's "pick-up" barbeque with 3 of my brothers and one sister
Heather and Estelle racing on the floor
Cousin Lillian enjoys both babies

4th of July!!!!!!!!!

Tractor Pull at the Fairgrounds:
Brother Wes and his boys in the grandstands. Estelle has finally warmed up to him.
Estelle's first maple creemee from the Maple Sugar Shack
Cole overcomes his fear of the inflatable bouncy house and makes a break for it
Strawberry Shortcake on sale for 3 bucks. And you can wear the funny hat!
The Parade in Barton: Antique cars...
World War II Veterans. The man driving the van is my Dad's best man at his wedding in 1951, Bob Clark.
Hi Ho Silver
Even Theatre makes its way to small town parades: publicity for the local show of "you're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"
Scooby Doo and the Mystery Machine?

Aunt Becky and the donuts

Estelle at the Busy Bee, happy with her new fetish, Cheerios.
Aunt Becky, about to make history....
Sometimes I just need to spend a few moments with my Aunt Becky, and it's like my Dad is back in the form of a woman.

Today Estelle had her baptism at the Busy Bee, the one and only eatery establishment here in Glover, Vermont. It's an icon, for reasons up and down. Recent new ownership has seen some changes which seem to be positive. At 8 am I got a call from one of my Dad's sister's, Elaine, to tell me to be at the Busy Bee at noon for a rendez-vous with another sister, Rebecca. Off we went at the appointed time. As we were waiting for our oh-so-luscious American summer snack-bar food, across the street up pulled the Koffee Kup bakery delivery truck, complete with huge photos on the sides of their products including my weakness, krullers (which p.s. I think I've already talked about on this blog in relation to the "bugnes" in Nice during Carnival).
The truck was making its delivery to Glover's focal point, Currier's Market. My sister Joan nudged me "Julie...." and she pointed to the giant Kruller-likenesses looming on the other side of the street. My mouth watered and I gave a sigh - despite the fact that I've had one for breakfast EVERY DAY since I got to the States!
My aunts looked me up and down, kind of down the side of one nostril, just like my Dad would have. I confessed that if stuck on a desert island, a lifetime supply of krullers would do me just fine.
And like a rocket shot, Becky was up out of the picnic table and clamouring down the slope of the Busy Bee's picnic area, with a determination belying her 78 years. She waited for the few cars on the road to go by, crossed, and we could just see her gesticulating and putting her hand on the shoulder of the young delivery driver who had just hopped down from the cab. Then they disappeared behind the truck, visible only by their feet. His boots went up and out of sight, then reappeared on the ground, and they came back around the back of the truck. She shook his hand, turned around, and came back across, package of krullers in hand. She climbed up the slope, and thumped the pack on the picnic table, to the shock and delight of my cousin (her son), Elaine and her husband, and my sister and I. Estelle looked on with little expression.
"There!" said Becky. "I told that boy I had a niece from France who wanted his krullers if she was stuck on a desert island. He wouldn't take a thing for 'em."
The Alexander brothers may all be up in heaven, but their impulsive fearlessness is alive and well in their sisters here on earth.
On the move...
Negotiations with the unsuspecting delivery man.
Triumpant return.

Uncles, Aunts, Cousins--oh My!

While changing to an English keyboard may be the death of me over the next few weeks, I am still in shockeroonie over my sister's highspeed internet on a dedicated line, plus her laptop has a dock for a photo memory card - no more hooking up a cable! Fabulous!
Here are some photos from the past few FRIGID days here in Vermont. Yesterday when we went to church it was 50-something degrees - which somebody told me is 16 Celcius. Can it be after our record-breaking heat on Wednesday of 95????? Welcome to Vermont: as the old saying goes here in New England..... "Don't like the weather? Just wait a minute."
Photos:
Uncle Paul plays with Estelle. She liked him immediately, since having seen Peter twice in the days prior, she thought it was the same guy and so was already broken in to him.

Alexandra running amuck with a baby.
Uncle Paul

My Aunt Elaine in West Glover:

Cousin Lauren - sorry can't figure out rotating this one!

Eureka!!!!!!!

The Times they have a changed..... my sister has high speed internet with a dedicated line!!!!
An uneventful and easy flight to Montreal finds Estelle and I enjoying ourselves in Vermont. A few snapsnots to document: Our camp on Shadow Lake:

My uncle Ricky puttered over for a visit...on his tractor. We climbed up and had ourselves a little party!:
Aunt Martha takes Estelle out to pick asparagus!
Estelle eats Cheerios for the first time and has a blast! This high chair was my sister's in 1959:

Balcony Bounty

Two months ago Thomas' mom bought us a tomato plant, and some kind of tree-plant thing that suddenly sprounted pretty flowers yesterday.
Proof:


Also off our balcony you can see "Chez Pipo", which makes the best socca in Nice. Socca (pronounced So-Kah) is a speciality of Nice and the surrounds, I have never seen it anywhere else. It is something cooked on huge extra-wide diameter pizza-style pans on wood fires. A liquid batter is ladled on the pans and cooked for 10 minutes or so. The batter is from a base of oil, chick pea flour, and probably milk or something. When they pull the huge pan out of the fire, they slice it up in strips and you eat it with your fingers, putting pepper on top first.
This is something that allegedly the fisherman thought up and would have in the mornings when they would come in from the morning fish. It is commonly consumed with rose wine. Technically it's not a meal, but it is.
Tonight I had my first socca of the season (photo below), on the eve of my departure to a land of hot dogs, rootbeer, bagels, and creemees. Hallelujah. Bring it on.

Fete de la Musique

"Faites de la musique, Fête de la Musique" Which means "Make music, celebrate Music".
Today is France's national celebration called the "Fete de la Musique". It happens every year on June 21st, the longest day of the year - summer solstice. And this is no "Memorial Day" that gets shifted to the convenient Monday for the long wkend in America - whatever day of the week is June 21st, be it Friday night or Monday, let the festivities be!
The story is such: In 1982, the Minister of Art and Culture (or something like that), a man named Jack Lang who is still alive, and a bit of an icon, decided that to celebrate music on the solstice would be appropriate. He said something like there should be "music everywhere, and concerts no where to be found" - or something profound like that. As a result, the whole dang country goes wild today.
My first year in France I left before June 21st and thus was oblivious to the whole thing. But Year #2, watch out. It was one long night, full of a sort of Greek Chorus Bacchae feeling. One huge outdoor party with music everywhere. I mean everywhere. There are massive stages set up, and just random people with guitars or drums scattered around. The old town of Nice become a maze of sounds, sort of like bouncing around from one speaker to another. The police look the other way on pretty much everything as long as no one is getting hurt. Probably what Woodstock was in '69. On some level what Bread and Puppet in Vermont used to be before it shut down.
But here in Europe, things are still loosey goosey, and this one day of the year to just let your hair down in public is a rite of passage.
Estelle and I walked the port today and watched the police barracading all the piers to stop any waywards from jumping into the water. I said to one "but you don't barricade the beaches? What's the difference?" I was told people could walk out of the water on the beach. And besides, there are private boats here (I'm sure THAT's the real reason).
Here are photos of Estelle having her own Fete de la Musique in our apt at dinner time, listening to an old American fave, Woody Guthrie's songs for children.

Bonne Fete de Pères!

Yesterday was Father's Day in France, just like in the States.
Here is Papa Thomas doing yogurt duty in the park.

Here is what he had coming at him all day to remind him that he is most definitely a papa.

Surprise!

After 2 yrs of marriage and almost 5 of togetherness, I mostly think I have my husband figured out. But no.
Yesterday afternoon, I heard a key in the lock at 1 p.m., and naturally panicked that Estelle and I were under attack. (watching too many episodes of "24" lately). None other than my husband. "I've been fired". He said. Then laughed. "I'm sick of working today". He said. I just stared at him. He's on a project in Monaco with a big deadline. He couldn't even get an extra day off at Easter, so I'm finding it hard to believe he's just decided to let slide the afternoon.
In fact, he had taken the afternoon off to allow me to go off to this place:
This is the ultra-modern "Hi Hotel" in Nice - pronounced "EEEEE OH-Tell". Monsieur had pre-arranged for a hamman and full hour massage in the spa at the swanky location at 2:30. I stood in my kitchen, clothespins in one hand and teething ring in the other and just looked at him.
Off I went on my bicycle, and stepped into another world for a few hours. People dressed all in black served me organic this and that, sent me off into my private steambath. A woman all in white massaged for an hour, and by the end I was dead asleep on the table. She gently woke with with some kind of herbal tea something and cooled such and such water. In the end, I was a new 36-yr-old-for-a-few-more-hours woman. All I kept thinking was "No wonder the Ice Pick character on Magnum P.I. lives to be 100 years old." Every time you see him, he meets up with Tom Selleck in a steam bath and Ice Pick doles out mafia information while they are getting simultaneously massaged. It is the way to eternal youth and tranquility. No doubt.
Back on the bike along the sea and a pit stop at the gay beach to meet up with a friend (what better place to be than the gay beach, no one is looking at YOU). Said friend, upon hearing where I had just been, said "Oh POOOOOOOOOOOOOR you." Then said husband and daughter joined us for a bit on the beach. They left, and I said "see you back at the apt in a while".
I meandered home, did bath time, got the purees ready for her dinner, and then Thomas said suddenly with a grin "We have to be ready to leave in an hour." I stood in my kitchen, bib in one hand and mushy teething biscuit in the other and just looked at him.
The babysitter soon arrived - I got out of my bikini and threw on a sundress and off we went into the old town, for a drink on a sunlit terrace, people watching and then to a restaurant for indian food.
Moral of this story: The best birthday presents are ones that come a day early, are a complete shock, and just keep coming throughout the day.
Today (the 13th here in France) is the real deal, and this afternoon two of my favorite English friends Simon and Amy are stepping off a plane to spend what I know will be 4 1/2 hilarious days with us. Doesn't get any better than that! There are cards & gifts here from the States to open, already some phone calls - what a great birthday and it hasn't even officially started yet!

Estelle's Italian BF

His name is Alessandro. You've seen him before, in a Christmas suit.
They had a tryst recently and I saw a lot of flirting on my daughter's part. Bit alarming to tell the truth.

Le Bac

Today begins the Bac, or Baccalaureat, which is the deadly end of high school test that all French kids across the country take this wk. As an American, and trained to be a teacher in America, I can say that I categorically have many many issues with the whole Bac process. It is tracking at its finest, narrow-minded, totally arbitrary, non-cumulative, tests only one kind of learning style/intelligence (aka Howard Gardner), and is a make or break for life.
Of course the kids that I give lessons to will all pass, because any parent who goes the extra mile to get private lessons for their kids in general have kids who will not fail the Bac.
Here is Thomas, my student. He'll be 18 in the fall. When I started with him he was 11 years old. He is the dream student. He is my surrogate nephew in France. He goes to the best (public) high school in Nice (because his parents lie about their address to get him in), and is in the best "track", which is Science/Math. Even if it isn't what you want to do with your life, that is the track to be in in high school, because that, according to public opinion (and every teacher I know) is where the "smart" kids are. Which is not true as I know many lovely individuals in the "L" track - literature.
Anyways, good luck Thomas. As I said to him last week at our last lesson, the question isn't will he pass or fail, the question is how high will he score. I am sorry to say that there are thousands of French kids out there who are not in such a comfortable position today as they enter into this barbarian testing system, which I hope to god my daughter will never have to be subject to.

Corpus Christi

Who knows what it really is all about, Corpus Christi? Whatever it is, it's a national holiday in Monaco - which means that it is Thomas' 5th day off since May 1st.

Not bad.

No more as this is being posted from the Wifi at McDonald's since I am, once again, without the internet for 48 hours. Sigh.

Bonne Fete de Mères!

Or, Happy Mother's Day.
Back in the States, this was 3 wks ago, but here in France it's today, and yours truly is experiencing her first Mother's Day from the other side of the coin. It's a little freaky to be honest. I keep thinking "Where's the mother?" Then realize it's me.
Unfortunately, Thomas was not quite on the 8-ball, so yesterday I said "buy me some new rechargable batteries for my camera", and that, sad as it may seem, was my mother's day gift. This morning I made breakfast for myself!
But we had a great day with our adorable daughter, all took a nice nap after lunch, and then went into the old town for some gelatto. The dad here might not have been up to speed, but Estelle clearly must have sensed it was mother's day, because she slept 12 1/2 hours last night without making a sound.
And that is the best Mother's Day gift anyone could give - a night of uninterrupted sleep!

First Cousins

This is what Estelle's cousins are up to in Vermont:
(We are sad that there are no dandelions where we live!)Any family resemblances here between Estelle and Heather, the Dandelion Princess?