Fish Tacos!

OK, so those might be a staple in some places like California, but here they’re very rare and as a matter of fact I’d never eaten them before. It all started when I found a nice piece of fresh cod at the supermarket, and wondered what to do with it (surprisingly it is also hard to come by). The result, after a quick Internet search, turned out to be one of the best meals we’ve had in a long time. Simple, delicious, quick, fresh food: that’s what summer meals (and Mexican fare) are all about.

I would, and hopefully will, definitely serve this with company over, maybe with 7-layer dip and a pitcher of homemade sangria.

Serves 4, dinner is on the table in about 20 minutes

For the fish:

Two to three fresh or thawed white fish fillets (cod is ideal because it won’t fall apart upon cooking, but still has a nice flaky texture)

1 cup cornmeal

2 eggs

Vegetable oil (we use canola) for frying

1 lime

For the sauce:

½ cup mayo

½ cup sour cream

¼ cup salsa

1 heaping teaspoon each chili powder and cumin

For the tacos:

Either one package of hard taco shells or a stack of flour tortillas

1 cup shredded cabbage (from a package of slaw mix)

2 diced tomatoes

2 chopped scallions

Chopped fresh cilantro

Make sauce by mixing the ingredients. Prepare accompaniments in different bowls to put on the table along with the sauce. Prepare tacos or tortillas for warming (tacos on a baking sheet in the oven, tortillas covered in plastic wrap in the microwave).

Pour 1 inch of oil into deep skillet and heat at medium-high (we don’t bother checking temps). Crack eggs in shallow bowl and lightly beat. Pour cornmeal in another bowl. Cut fish into individual pieces (4 to 6 per fillet). Warm tacos or tortillas according to package directions. Dip each fillet into egg, then into cornmeal. Fry for a few minutes on each side, until golden.

Put fish on a plate and squeeze lime juice over. Bring everything to the table and enjoy!

I really am grateful, I am

I'm sure this was the longest time to produce thank-you notes in history, but I finally did it. They're in the mail... And I'm so relieved. They've been totally nagging me ever since I bought all the supplies er, two months ago.

Why did it take so long? Well, thanks for asking, we've been away five weekends since the wedding, I just don't have much free time in general, and even less so in the summer, when I have a garden to tend to and stuff to do outside. So things have progressed slowly, one step at a time, one hour at a time, until this weekend when I realized I was finally pretty much done. I read somewhere that etiquette says you have three months to send thank-you notes after a wedding (which gives me a good, oh, nearly two weeks of slack!) It seems to me that all brides tackle them much earlier than that though.

I got paper from the same collection than the invitations, including the same envelopes, and pre-creased cards, so you knew where to fold them after printing. M worked on a design in Photoshop, adapting the one he had done for the invites. So I first addressed and printed the envelopes. I then had pictures developed for (nearly) each guest, for instance cute pictures of their kids, or fun portraits of them the photog had taken in the photobooth. Once I received them, I sorted through the pile and placed them all in the right envelopes already.

The next step was cutting the contrasting color cardboard "frame" to size, which I did by hand with fairly good results. Then I printed the inside of the cards, with a personalized message for each one. I folded the cards, glued the "frame" on each, then our official picture on top. I assembled everything: pictures inside the card, card inside the envelope, seal, done.

Supplies were about $65 CDN, and postage was about $17. I bought supplies for 30 cards, but made roughly 25. I think it's always a great idea to buy extra, because inevitably you're going to have some printing problems, typos, etc. A few weeks ago fellow newlywed Krista discussed the etiquette aspect of thank-you notes, wondering if she should send one to people who did not give presents. Her post and the comments from other brides was quite interesting and made me question how I should do it. So in the end I decided to include: all guests at the wedding, whether they gave us a present or not, people who did not attend but gave presents (co-workers, my stepmom's parents, etc.), as well as other people who were instrumental in some way (people from the orchard who worked their butt off for this, with no prior knowledge of how weddings worked -it was their first, my co-worker who drove her daughter, our waitress/helper there and back for a total of 5 + hours, the friend who graciously lent me her Polaroid, etc.)

What do you think of the picture? I know for some it might seem strange that we're not locked in an embrace or something. But here's the thing. I've already said it, I'm not much into traditional wedding photography, and I wanted something just a little different. Who says you need to kiss on your official picture? I also love the formality of old portraits, where everyone is dressed up and standing straight and still, and this was meant to be a little nod to the American Gothic style (thanks to Jessica who gave me the idea). And last but not least, there's a kind of a code there. Do you see it? M&M getting married? M? Yes, we're doing our best Sesame Street impression by using our bodies to replicate the letter. We're dorks like that.

Peek of the crop

Three years ago my father-in-law brought me four tiny raspberry stalks, to plant in a corner of the yard that was awkwardly placed, rarely saw the sun, and hence was completely wasted for anything else.

The plants came from their own patch, which in itself had once been transplanted, decades ago, from the country cottage of some of M's distant relatives. I like this little story of the same plant being brought in different places, continuing to flourish throughout the years and being appreciated by several generations of the same family.

I must say I rarely saw a plant so hardy, so robust, so easy to maintain, and so determined to produce lots and lots of fruit. That corner of our yard is now completely overrun by raspberries. We basically have nothing to do except go around with a bowl every day in July and joyfully stuff our faces.

I just picked two pounds of fresh, juicy, ripe, sweet but not too sweet, organic and FREE berries in a single day. Two pounds! Let's go make pie.

When I look at these pictures...

...I feel so sorry all I ever wanted or thought about having before that sonogram was a girl.

Making some new with the old

There’s this trend that had suddenly caught my eye…

First I saw it in my J.Crew catalog… The idea of a sparkly, multiple strand necklace tied with a ribbon… Pretty! I thought…

Then, Professional Bridesmaid mentioned it on her blog. Then, same type of necklace mentioned in the crafts feature of this month’s Martha Stewart Living, as well as in InStyle… Then, cute fashionable girl on the street wearing a similar one… So me wanted some of this too.

[MS Living, August 2009, p.62]

Since I didn’t have time to shop and I thought it would rock with my jeans/little summery white blouse/beige pointy-toe heels outfit for the next day, I resorted to DIY.

Remember about three years ago when very long, single strand necklaces were in fashion? I still had a few of those left in my jewelry box. Since I like sewing and crafting, I also had a bag full of leftover lengths of ribbon. Turns out, it takes two minutes to make your own trendy necklace! Just bunch up a long one into several shorter strands (I was able to do four with mine), then loop the ribbon on both sides, adjust in the back and tie into a knot or bow. I think it would be lovely to mix different necklaces as well. If you don’t have fabric ribbon, it is very inexpensive to buy at the sewing supplies or crafting store. But I’m sure everyone has some leftover from a box of chocolates, some gift packaging, etc…

On happiness

What is your most important goal in life? For me I would say it’s finding happiness. I used to think what you needed to do is strive to achieve a state where you would be permanently happy. The “pursuit of happiness,” right?

Now I find this phrase to be misleading. I’m not sure one can be happy all the time, at every waking moment. Do you think so? Our lives are fast-paced, often filled with stress, things to do and to take care of, time that is lacking, too many choices and worries of all kind. Every morning when I wake up, when I go about my routine, when I try to do things on schedule, I don’t stop to think about whether or not I’m happy. It seems there is almost always a little something on my mind, something that eventually gets crossed off only to be replaced by something else.

But I am certainly happy… I’ve just realized that the awareness of this is not, and will probably never be, a permanent state of bliss. It rather happens in waves, in little moments stolen here and there, in short bursts when my heart suddenly, often without warning, fills with emotion and pleasure. It happens when I see my husband and son together, laughing so hard LP gets the hiccups. It happens when we’re all lingering in bed on a weekend morning, and LP says he does not want to get up yet, he wants “encore des calins, encore des bisous” (more hugs and kisses). It happens when we have very loud music playing, and we’re just being very silly singing and dancing.

It happens when I feel M and I really connect for a moment, and I totally have butterflies. It happens when we spend some time in good company, friends or family, with good food, good wine and kids running around, and it seems time slows down a little. It happens when for some reason I am able to make someone else happy. It also happens some evenings when all is quiet in the house, and I just lie in bed with nothing to do but read a good magazine.

During these times I want to shout out: “I’m so happy! What have I done to deserve this?” And even while I’m stressed, overwhelmed, so tired I just want to curl up on the floor, these moments are still there in the back of my mind, telling me more is to come, and making it all worthwhile.

This is happiness for me.

10 things I love about you

1. You’re so handy. I just love how you can just fix and build beautiful things.
2. I’m in awe of your visual creativity, how you can just take such great pictures and come up with awesome designs that I see in my head but would look like a 5 year-old’s drawing if I did them.
3. Every morning when I come wake you up, you open your eyes, smile to me and say "wow".
4. I can so imagine you as a teen, slightly dark and oversensitive beneath a tough surface just like me, also listening to The Cure over and over again while daydreaming.
5. You cried while we were watching Immortal Beloved, when the young Beethoven runs away from his abusive father in the moonlight, while Hymn to Joy plays in the background.
6. I can see in your eyes how deeply you love our son and how much he changed everything in your life.
7. It feels so good being nestled between your giant arms.
8. You had my and LP’s initials tattooed on your arm! Hello!
9. You have a t-shirt that says "I heart hot moms". And I know you really mean it.
10. You put up with me every day.

Shall we discuss the weather?

We are a culture that's weather-obsessed, that's for sure. I guess if you live somewhere it's always nice and there are not many variations, it's probably not as much as a preoccupation for everyone, year-round...

But here it never stops. I'm guilty of it, as well (14 posts about the weather in the last year and a half). People complain if the winter: starts too early (it will be too long), too late (the Holidays without snow are not fun), is too cold, is not cold enough (icy conditions), is too snowy (all that shoveling!), is not snowy enough (can't ski), and lasts too long. People also complain if the spring comes late, and if the fall is rainy. People complain if the weather is nice during the week but not the weekend, then people complain that the weather was too nice during the weekend and they could not get anything done.

But without a doubt summer always sees the paramount of complaining. So this summer is not the best, and the past few weeks have been quite rainy and not that warm. It's true. But people really take it personally. I find the general tolerance threshold is really low before everyone deems the summer officially ruined and doomed. Like maybe 4 or 5 bad days...

It's like you simply CAN'T take the summer away from people. After the crazy winters we have, they just crave and need and must have them to make it right, to convince themselves that after all this might not be the worst place in the world to live. They need it for morale, for keeping faith in the future and for the greater good, just like they need their hockey team to make the playoffs.

I get it. I'd love for it to be better too. What's the point in spending all this time maintaining the swimming pool, working on the garden and trying to create a nice living space in the backyard otherwise? For sure I also dream of endless sun kissed days, of taking the weather for granted, of not having to use heating in my car in the morning in July.

But please don't ruin it for me... You can't control the weather, you can only make the best of it. Your own outlook changes everything. It's not been a total nightmare either! There were many nice days, many very summery moments, many breaks in the clouds. There are even positive effects: it's not suffocating to sleep at night, my garden is doing amazing with very little maintenance, there aren't as many bugs...

You never know, people. Things can always turn around, we could have a wonderful month of August, followed by a great warm fall. Summer could just have decided to come a little late. Please find something else to do when it rains, appreciate the nice days and make the most of the sun we do have! No one owes to you that it's 30 degrees (86 F) and sunny every day in July!...

We went to my hometown two weekends ago, and we visited a tourism site which reproduces life as it was in New France (what Quebec was called early in the "colony") over three centuries ago... And it struck me how difficult they were having it, compared to us. They needed the summers, not just to be in a better mood, but to have a little respite from the cruel joke that was winter with unheated, rudimentary houses and absolutely none of the amenities we now consider essential. Not to mention that they also needed it to add just a few more foods to their normal diet of potatoes, carrots, turnips, dried peas, rancid flour and occasional pork... Can you imagine how good these wild berries must have tasted, while we don't even care to let them to waste?

Also, I just wanted to point out that it could also always be worse. When I was living in Germany, it was pretty much raining EVERY DAY (this is not a figure of speech), and it was very rarely warmer than 18 or 19 degrees (64 F). At the end of that crappy summer, the worst I've ever seen, I suddenly heard every German I knew praising the wonderful season we've just had... It put things back in perspective a little.

The proposal that wasn't

I've already posted about our official engagement, but there is a little story behind it that I wanted to come back to...

I always kind of suspected that M would propose while we were in New York. It's "our" city, our little escape, the place he made me discover. One Friday night when we had been together for six months we were lying in bed watching TV, and I made this remark that despite the fact I had traveled a lot, I had never been to NY, my dream place! So he just got up, packed our bags and made reservations for the next day. We slept for a few hours then left to spend 36 hours there!

I will never forget that weekend, and I guess neither will he. Before the wedding, when he was asked to write about one of his favorite memories so the officiant would know us better, he chose that moment when we were in the subway, waiting to arrive in Penn Station where I would finally discover Manhattan for the first time. He described how funny and cute my excitement was, and how at one point he thought I might lose it and pass out!

Every time we went after that I wouldn't say I had real expectations that he would propose, but there was definitely an additional tickle of excitement about asking myself "Will this time be the one?" Especially when he took me there for Valentine's Day in 2006. No proposal, but another wonderful memory I hope to keep forever: being stranded there during the winter storm of the century, walking around in knee-high powdery snow, smiling, watching New Yorkers play.

The one time he did propose, I wasn't expecting it at all... LP had had surgery the day before, so I had other things on my mind. At this point I thought that if it hadn't happened by then, it just wouldn't. But we got engaged after all, in Bryant Park, which I've always said was my favorite place in the city.

The thing is his original plan was to do it on top of the Empire State Building! We had never been and a couple of days before he kept on insisting for us to go, saying that he wanted to take pictures up there. We did make it there after all, freshly engaged, me beaming and stopping every two seconds to look at my ring. But:

-we had way underestimated the crowd, so we spent 50 minutes waiting among very impatient and stressed people with a stroller and a wailing child, which tampered our mood

-we passed through a metal detector (which would have picked up on the ring and ruined everything)

-when we made it to the platform, there were so many people we could hardly move

-and finally, a very strong electrical storm developed in minutes, the building was struck by lightning (I'm not kidding!), so they promptly closed the platform and sent everyone back down in a frenzy.

Needless to say M was SO happy he didn't carry out his original plan after all! Talk about a disaster of a proposal this would have been. We had actually gotten to the Park by pure chance, because we were walking up 7th Avenue on our way to the Empire State, since they was a store I wanted to visit on our way. M said that he was suddenly inspired to do it right then, because the moment was too perfect. And it really was.

Celebrating success

A little over a year ago, my friend Julie, who was fed up with her day job, thought she would try doing something she really liked for a change. Being the artistic, creative, detail-oriented and very homey person that she is, she decided on cupcakes.

So she ordered 100 cardboard boxes to store them, telling herself that she would give this a try until she ran out of boxes.

She just received 14,000 boxes with her logo on them. Today is the opening of her shop, part of a newly created Artisan Market in downtown LA. This marks a big change for her, not only having a real storefront but moving operations into a commercial kitchen, having employees, etc.

Julie, I'm so proud of you! You inspire me. I wish you the best of luck in your new endeavor. I really wish I was with you today (I always do, but today especially).

Love you! xxx

P.S. So glad M finally edited and sent you the pictures he took last year. I swear it's not for lack of nagging him about it.

Random things about myself

This meme has been going around for a while. Here it goes:

1. Not only am I left-handed, but I am completely incapable of doing anything with my right hand.

2. I consider myself to be well-traveled, but I’m a really nervous flyer. I love traveling too much to stop, but IT’S NOT FUN (for my husband especially I guess).

3. I come from a family and a large social circle where no one speaks any English. I learned a little bit during the few years I was going to English summer day camp, but other than that I never really spoke it before I was 17.

4. I can also converse in and understand Spanish and German, although I wouldn’t say I’m completely fluent in either.

5. It took me four years to finish my graduate degree. The topic of my master’s thesis was "Dual Cultural Identity in the novel Le Testament français, by Andrei Makine".

6. My maternal great-grandmother was a native Indian from the Montagnais tribe.

7. Of all the places I’ve visited, my favorite one by far was Ljubljana, in Slovenia, which used to be part of Yugoslavia.

8. I was once a very rebellious punk teenager.

9. I never went to my prom.

10. I never really wanted children before my 30^th birthday; and then, I really wanted one right away.

11. I always thought I would get the drugs as soon as possible during childbirth, but ended up having none; I didn’t want to breastfeed before LP was born, but ended up doing it for a year.

12. I never envisioned doing anything else than writing in life, from very early on.

13. My absolute dream job would be florist, though.

14. I rarely get mad. I easily get hurt.

15. Ever since my son was born I’ve been the worst slacker ever when it comes to house cleaning. No, really. This fills me with shame and embarrassment, but I guess not enough to clean more.

16. I’ve moved more than 25 times and never spent more than 8 years in the same house. I went to four different high schools.

17. I’ve also lived in a hotel in two different occasions, for a total of about 6 months.

18. I’ve been preparing and laying out my outfit for the next day since I was about 5 years old. Even during the years I had a uniform (for most of my schooling).

19. I’ve always loved music, and I have a good ear and sense of rhythm. However, even though I’ve taken lessons (piano, guitar, singing) for years and years, I still suck at making it big time.

20. One of the most painful moments of my life was participating to this local singing contest when I was 18. ‘Nuff said.

21. I have several memories from when I was 2 years old (and after, obviously), although the earliest ones are becoming more like furtive "feelings" as I get older.

22. My parents lost me at Disney World when I was 5 for several hours and honestly thought they would never see me again. I remember this vividly.

23. Once when I was a baby, at my grandparents’ cottage, my grandfather and uncle had wanted to take me on a boat ride with them. Seconds before they left, my dad became pale and absolutely insisted to take me back. Everyone was trying to convince him otherwise, and thought he was such a party pooper, but he wouldn’t budge. The boat capsized in rapids.

24. I don’t remember what my natural hair color is.

25. Although EVERYONE had an extremely negative reaction to it and went out of their way to make sure I got this "silly" idea out of my head, I would have been totally ready and willing to become a mother through adoption.

Pourquoi maman?

Why mommy?

And this is just the beginning… I can’t wait for the “Why is the sky blue? Why are there stars at night? Why is time elapsing? Why do people die” -type questions…

Why are the cars passing by?

Why have we finished eating?

Why doesn’t mommy play golf?

Why is grandma living in her house?

Why it is late?

Why is the song over?

Why is C (his morning teacher) on vacation?

Why are there no toys in this store?

Why are the trucks big?

Why is it raining?

Why are we stopping? (Very annoyingly asked at each red traffic light)

Why will there be a pool at our hotel?

Why do mommy and daddy go to work?

Why are the mosquitoes biting me?...

The perfect pair

I found them. After years and years of anguish and frustration at jeans that either fit my hips but gape at the waist, fit well through the leg but won't completely zip up because they end exactly where I'm the widest, or provide too much backside cleavage than I care for when bending over or crouching (which, with a young child, you need to do surprisingly often).

The perfect jeans for me are from Express, the Stella model in Barely Bootcut, Short version (note to Express people, if a 5'6" woman has to get the "Short", who's the "Long" made for? The very large population of 6'2", but slender and small-boned gals?)

They have everything. The rise is perfect, neither too high nor too low. They're the closest thing to skinny jeans, which I just can't do with my chunky legs. The dark wash is dressy and stylish. The hem length, which I didn't have to alter, miraculously works with both flats and heels. They hug my tush and hips just right, without making them look bigger. The leg is slimming, the amount of stretch is great, they have just a few rippled whiskers to make it fashionable without looking tacky. They stay in place no matter how I move, and do not offer any peek of underwear. I'm in love.

Finally.

See a little pattern there?

I just recently saw Napoleon Dynamite, and quite liked it. I've always loved movies that were a little odd and different, like I really want to high-five these creative directors who dare wandering outside the Hollywood blockbuster path (I'm not condemning the industry as a whole, though, indie movies just generally appeal to me more).

When I started thinking about it, I realized that I definitely have a history of favoring a certain niche of movies that (loosely) have things in common with Napoleon. Namely:

Ups and Downs (also called Prep School) (1981)


I had taped this Canadian life-in-a-posh-boarding-school movie when I was about 12 (that would be 1987) and kept watching it, over, and over, and over again. I was fascinated by it, and kinda lived vicariously through it for a few years. Would really love to see it again, if only to relive that feeling.

Sixteen Candles (1984)

What to say about this movie? There's definitely an aspect of silliness to it, but boy could I identify with Molly Ringwald character's awkwardness and overwhelming all-over-the-place emotions. And Matt Dillon at that age?

Rushmore (1998)


I like pretty much all Wes Anderson movies but this one has had the most impact on me. It was so weird, funny, painful, and smart at the same time.

Outside Providence (1999)


The poster may give the impression that the film is an imitation of American Pie, but it's really not. I remember it being very real and endearing.

Almost Famous (2000)

I just got so attached to this character it's actually crazy. Especially after knowing that it was based on the director's real experience as a 15 year-old writing for Rolling Stones magazine...

All of them are "teen movies", but always treated differently and and a little more emotionally. All the characters are outsiders in some ways, usually at school (boarding school especially...) What draws me to being so touched by this teenage angst, even when my own was now so long ago? I wouldn't relive my teenage years in any way, it wasn't a good part of my life, but at the same time there was such a freshness and preciousness to my perspective then, to how I was experiencing, anticipating and feeling things.

It needs to be said though that nearly all of the characters in question are boys. In fact, I would have loved to see more girls portrayed in this way, but it seems to me there really were not that many. Am I wrong? I liked Clueless and even Mean Girls, but all in all this type of flick is just not made to give you a glimpse of the characters' inside world, and for you to sort of fall in movie love with them.

The mysterious F.M. Douglas

1 – I’ve got extraordinary friends

2 – The Internet is such a fantastic resource. What were we doing before it?

After she read my recent post on that old trunk we have at home and its original owner, Miss F.M. Douglas, my friend Marie-Claude, who’s totally passionate about history and genealogy, started her own research and possibly tracked her down! I can’t believe it!

Here is what she came up with:

She first found a Miss Frances Mildred Douglas, age 20 and identified as a Montreal resident, who arrived in New York from Liverpool on February 1921 from another ship named Megantic.

So it’s not the same trip she took with my trunk, but the name, single marital status, and place of residence match. Montreal was still a smallish city then, and single women traveling around the world were probably few. We can also speculate that since she took that long Mediterranean cruise with my trunk a few years later, first, she was probably very wealthy, and second, she liked traveling and had the means to do it, so it wouldn’t be surprising that the 1924 trip was not her first.

M-C then crossed-referenced this information with other sources and within the archives of the US Library of Congress (where I was just a few days ago!), she found a record for "Ever Diana", a comedy play written in 1930 by a Miss Frances Mildred Douglas, who lived in Westmount, Quebec, Canada. FYI, the town in question is a very posh, Anglophone, totally beautiful suburb of Montreal, just adjacent to downtown.

But wait! M-C looked up the address they gave. The house still exists, and is currently on the market for $6 million (the highest listing in Westmount right now).
We don’t know for sure that it’s her, but I think it’s highly probable. M-C says that she’ll try to access the National Archives in Ottawa, where the list of passengers for the 1924 Empress of Scotland cruise is stored. I’m completely fascinated by how history can reveal itself through objects, that’s why I love antiques!

And it seems our intuition that she was an interesting character when we bought the trunk is totally confirmed! Can you imagine how it was for a single woman in her early twenties to travel the world alone nearly a hundred years ago? And she was A WRITER! OK, both the wanderlust and the writing thing can be explained by her wealth, because if she had been from a typical (poor) French-Canadian family from the other side of town, she would have left school by 14 and would have been married with multiple kids by her early twenties -whether she would have liked it or not-, but still. Whatever the historical context was, this does not seem to be the typical mold for a woman in the 1920s.

Which makes me like her very much.

LP in Washington

After we’ve shown him “Obama’s house”, of course he asked us where he was. At work, we said. So every day after that he kept asking if Obama was working now. “Aujourd’hui, Obama travaille?” he asked with real concern. We always had to answer yes.

Wearing his iconic Hope t-shirt on the Mall, chanting with his little fists in the air, "kes kee cannn!" No one asked him to do that or showed it to him…

Burying his head in his stroller in a Metro station, saying “J’ai peur…” (I’m scared…) (he’s already taken it in NY but he was too small to remember). Then, two minutes later, as we were crossing the Potomac on a train bridge, very assuredly affirming “Moi j’aime ça prendre le Métro” (Me I like taking the Metro)…

As we were emerging from a tunnel into daylight another time, asking: “Ohh, c’est le matin?” (Is it morning?)

Pointing to the stunning Beaux-Arts Union Station, asking “Ça c’est la Cour Suprême?” (Is this the Supreme Court?)

Wanting to play in one of the many fountain pools around the city. I explained to him that we couldn’t do that here. “Why?” Because it was an important memorial for the War. His answer: “Non maman, c’est juste de l’eau!...” (No mommy, it’s only water!...)

Trying to explain to him what the Fourth of July festivities were, saying it was a big party. “A party for me?” No… We weren’t sure what to tell him. A party for everyone, for Obama… So after the fireworks were over (he was more scared than impressed), he asked “C’est fini la fête pour Obama et moi?” (Is my and Obama’s party over now?)

In the hotel room, taking the phone, telling me he wants to talk to someone. Who, I asked? Marie-Eve. But I'm right here! No, not you, the other Marie-Eve, he said (she's the daycare director). So he went on pretending:

"Allo, je viens pas à la garderie. Suis en petites vacances à Washington, avec papa et maman. Veux parler à Maxime. Bye!" (Hello, I not coming to daycare. Am on little holiday in Washington with mommy and daddy. Want to talk to Maxime (his best friend) Bye!).

"Allo Maxime! Ça va? Ton hibou? Non, je viens pas à la garderie, suis à Washington. Bye!" (Hello, how are you? And your owl (he has a ratty stuffed bird he brings everywhere)? No, I not coming to daycare, am in Washington. Bye!)

Nice old things

M and I like antiquing. We have similar, specific taste: mostly "industrial modern" stuff from the 1930s through 1950s, not really furniture (which, when well preserved, is in a completely different price range), but rather objects. We have a huge aqua and chrome oven in the basement, waiting for us to redo the kitchen around it. We have two old rusty gas pumps in the garage, which M hopes he can one day restore. We have small colorful collections of old radios, vintage juicers, and clocks (usually still working). We also have an extensive collection of Coca-Cola stuff, from metal trays to vintage ads, from small coolers to bar signs, as well as a commercial cooler chest, which now houses our stemware.

But one of our most treasured pieces is actually pretty far from all of this: it's a big leather and wood traveling trunk, probably made around 1920. We found it in the "junk" section of a place we like to visit on our way to Quebec City. It was really filthy, the fabric lining was in shreds, and the bottom was filled with dry corn kernels and cereal dust, as if it had previously been used in a barn to store animal feed or something.

We took it home, cleaned it thoroughly (although it will always retain its musty smell I suppose), and cautiously peeled the remaining fabric. I then carefully relined it with a blue-and-white seersucker linen, which I thought would still mesh with its original era.

The trunk did not interest us as much as the story it hinted. Several clues had us wildly speculating about its original owner, whose initials were monogrammed on one side: FMD. Miss F.M. Douglas. An unmarried female, hence either a child, traveling with her parents, or a single woman, perhaps wandering around the world alone?

The trunk was at least used for one fantastic trip: a partially handwritten sticker/ticket stamped in 1924 informs us that she embarked on the Empress of Scotland ship in the Port of New York. The voyage was a "Mediterranean Cruise" offered by the Canadian Pacific, and she had the stateroom number 402.


I was so intrigued by this. How were cruises like that? How much did they cost, and what kind of people were able to afford them? It seems to me it was a completely different era, when the important thing was not your destination as much as your journey...


I couldn't find the exact information on this particular cruise, but I found a vintage ad for the CP's cruise line from the year after. It says that their Mediterranean cruise, the fourth one they were doing on the Empress ship, was scheduled to start in NY on February 9, and was going to last a grand total of 62 days.

The Empress of Scotland was put to scrap in 1930. And whatever happened to Miss Douglas? Who was she? A spoiled child adored by her parents, a rich and free-spirited young woman looking for adventure, a disenchanted old maid? I'll never know, but due to of a random turn of events, even while she's long gone, I get to keep an important keepsake from her big trip...

P.S. There are also other stickers on the trunk: one from passing customs in NY, two Canadian Pacific ones, including one from London, one from the Grand Hotel in that same city, and one from the Hotel de la Couronne in Breda.

Aftershoot in Mexico

As we touched ground in Mexico, it started pouring rain like I had rarely seen. Our luggage arrived soaked throughout, and we were completely drenched after spending less than a minute unsheltered. We rode in the car for an hour and a half, interested by the unfamiliar landscape, but quite dubious about this really heavy, tropical downpour that wasn't stopping. Not quite what we had expected. When we finally made it to our hotel room, we turned the TV on to check the weather, and for sure that's what was forecasted everyday for the whole week. GREAT, we thought.

But eventually it stopped, and we walked around the resort a bit before dining on the best Mexican food I've ever had. The next morning, we woke up at 6:30 to find gorgeous weather. This completely changed our mood, and we decided to go around exploring and taking pictures with my wedding gown on. Since it was so early, everything was super quiet, and it turned out to be really fun. We were basically discovering the place as we went, and what a beautiful place it was.

Of course the results are completely different than the pictures taken two days before during the wedding, but I still love these photos, minimal makeup, messy hair, wrinkled dress and all. There was no rain for the remainder of the trip, by the way.

Impressions of DC

New York will always remain a longtime love, but DC is definitely my new crush.

A feeling of a city big enough to be cosmopolitan, small enough to be humanely scaled, and power, importance and a certain solemnity oozing all across town.

Thousands of joggers everywhere, who knew DCers were so fit?

Urban planning is stellar. One park, fountain, monument, incredible view, beautiful building after another. No skyscrapers whatsoever.

Lincoln monument very somber and awe-inspiring.

Hundreds of informal co-ed softball teams playing on the Mall on a beautiful summer early evening. How many cities can brag about that?

All Smithsonian institutions are free. We went to the Air and Space, the Natural History, and the Zoo. We could have spent weeks there just browsing the wonderful museums.

Metro is very similar to the one in Montreal, but much more accessible and well-maintained.

A beautiful sculpture garden full of well-clad young politicos sitting in the grass or standing with a drink, listening to a free Jazz concert.

Understanding why the national capital was placed there, in the historical East Coast axis, at the very meeting point between the industrious North and the noble South, with traditions from both.

Feeling of positive energy near the White House and around the city, confirmed by my blog friend Melissa who’s been working right there since the Clinton Administration. She says everything is much more open, less guarded, less mongered in fear now.

Heart warming effect of meeting someone I’ve known online for nearly two years, and seeing right away that the connection was indeed real and that we could never seem to run out of things to say. Real pleasure in seeing our sons, born a few days apart, play together like they had known each other all their lives.

Eyes a little teary when finally approaching the back of the Capitol, imagining how it must have been on January 20^th.

Discovering that John and Jackie Kennedy are buried with two stillborn children, the youngest of whom died only three months before the President was assassinated.

Experiencing a moment of pure happiness while we were lying in the grass and goofing around waiting for the Fourth of July fireworks to start, feeling that I have been really blessed.

So, the Beatles or the Stones?

I don't expect to be able to post today: as you're reading this we've just come back from a 5-day trip to Washington DC! I can't wait to write about it.

For now, I'll abide with the new blogosphere/Twitter tradition of Music Monday. I'll
leave you with my latest band/girl (Canadian) crush: Metric. Emily Haines, the singer, is damn hot (at 35!) and she just kicks a**! I love the song, with its obvious '80s references and upbeat tempo, AND the video, with its one-sequence-type action and humor...

Is there such a thing as a two year-old night owl?

We definitely have our own issues with LP and things are not perfect, but there are several difficult things that most kids his age do and that we're just completely unfamiliar with. For instance the picky eating. I’d say he’s more selective now than he used to be, but he’s still a good eater. Always have been, and his taste and appetite far surpass those of many adults. For instance, last night he ate Pad Thai. Sure I had to take out the shrimp and skip the cilantro (he suddenly decided he doesn’t like it: parsley is fine, basil is fine, but “coriandre” is not), but the kid is 2 and he devoured a bowl consisting of rice noodles, tangy/spicy sauce, bean sprouts, omelet fried in sesame oil, chopped peanuts, scallions, lime, etc. I know, I know, it might still change. But let’s just hope not.

The other thing that just never happened in our house is the super early rising. I can never believe it when people “casually” mention their kid(s) wake up at 5:20 AM, smiling and ready to play. Or when they discuss strategies to make them stay in bed longer, whether letting them watch TV or telling them they can’t get out of their room before a certain time. Makes me feel so lucky.

LP is the last person in the family to get out of bed in the morning, and the one who has the hardest time waking up. During the week, I usually get up between 5:30 and 6, and wake M up around 7. For LP, it’s another story. Regardless of what time he went to bed the night before, he’s just not a morning person, and I didn’t think it would be so clear so early. Sometimes I try to wake him up for 10 minutes, then give up and go fix his breakfast and prepare his clothes for the day. When I come back I can then usually coax him out of bed but it’s a slow process that usually involves him resisting a bit, and telling me he doesn’t want to get up, he wants to sleep some more.

During weekends, he rarely wakes up before 8, and can easily stretch it until 9 (yes, we’re really grateful for that). We usually put him to bed between 8 and 8:30, among other things because trying to do so earlier made our evenings much more stressful and because it really wasn’t working out for him. When we’re out of the house or it’s just not possible to put him to bed at that time, we’re always surprised at how he’ll be like the Energizer bunny, going on, and on, and on. Some parents have told us their kids simply disintegrate when their bedtime extends past 7, but LP seems to just come alive. I’m usually tired before he is (one of the worst punishment you can give me is putting me in a situation where I have to stay up really late).

Some nights that make me feel totally pathetic, he just won’t fall asleep, whatever we try. He'll remain in bed, calm but completely awake and super chatty, until I pass out myself and don’t remember what happens next. Surely that can't be right???