Scandinavia, you did it again!

We Quebecers are a peculiar bunch. We obviously have things in common with the French, although probably less than you might think. We also have things in common with the Brits, actually probably more than you might think. We're definitely North American though, and used to these (excessive) standards we take for granted: space, large houses, big cars, relatively cheap energy, plentiful water, very convenient domestic facilities, big-box shops that are basically always open.

The parallel most people don't know about, and which is perhaps the most important, is with Scandinavian countries. But we are very similar, and not just because of our climate... There's the general mentality (not necessarily needing to get married before having kids -or at all- may be the most obvious resemblance), and there's how the government works. We are also a welfare state: the high taxes in exchange for many services (universal healthcare, long, paid parental leaves, good quality subsidized daycares...), the always underlying principle that when the society as a whole is better off and its most vulnerable population is taken care off to an extend, everyone benefits. (I'm not saying that this is perfect -of course it's not).

I've always viewed Scandinavians as the most "evolved" people on Earth, like they have probably figured everything out better than anyone else, for a variety of reasons I can't really put my finger on. And nowadays, even I, who benefits from lots of programs I'm well aware some women regrettably couldn't dream of, am finding myself jealous of the Scandinavians...

There, just like here, women -including mothers- are massively into the workforce... Among the highest percentages in the developed world. But here's what we don't have: most of them work part-time. I mean, careers, like working for the public sector, and not for instance in the retail industry.

I wish I could work part-time, for the next couple of years at least... With a little freelancing on the side, I'm pretty sure we could manage budget-wise, even with the bigger house. But unless I want to deny the seven years I spent in university and the ten I've spent working in the corporate world and accept to become a boutique salesperson or a barista at minimum wage (not that there's anything wrong with that, obviously), there's nothing. Out of all the job applications I've filled in the last month, there was exactly one for which part-time was possible. It was a junior position -I don't think they're calling me anytime soon.

I don't mean to complain: I know I'm lucky because I have had the chance to study, to gain valuable experience, to work in positive environments. I'm also lucky because my husband holds a good job, although I guess this should never be completely taken for granted. I've always worked full-time and I know we can manage: that's the society choice, that's life, that's what everyone else is doing. I will do it and give it my best, give my best at home and won't look back.

But still. Good for you, Norway, Sweden, the Netherlands. You will never cease to impress me.

Che cosa???

A few weeks ago, more than a year after our return, we received an all-Italian letter from the Firenze Polizia. A fine, actually, for an amount of over 100 euros. We're not really sure why, but we think it has to do with driving in an inner-city zone we weren't supposed to have access to. These no-outside cars zones are everywhere, especially in old towns where streets are very narrow and space is limited. We had tried to pay attention to it, but sometimes, these places are just like mazes. We were surprised that we got fined in in Florence though, because it's one of the places where we actually didn't drive in the city. Our hotel was in a nearby village, and everyday we parked at the Piazzale Michelangelo, then walked across the Arno river and into the town. I was nearly five months pregnant, it was hot, there were lots of steps, and we had a 3 year-old in a stroller, so I remember these quite long walks very well.

There was nothing we could do about the fine: we don't really know much Italian, the country is far away and six hours ahead, and the Polizia charged us through our car rental company, which still had our credit card number. We have other things on our mind right now, so we figured the hell with it.

But read on. The population of Florence is 370,000 people -in its center at least, it is a very dense and small town. Every year, the city receives nearly 2 million visitors. Therefore, it heavily relies on tourism; for the greater part of the year, visitors outnumber the locals. Granted, the majority of these tourists don't actually drive: maybe they're part of a guided tour and travel by bus (I know that's how both my parents have visited Italy in separate occasions), maybe they fly in and out. Maybe they come by train, and maybe they even come by cruise ship (to nearby important port Livorno). So, how many do you think actually drive? Maybe 30%? Math was never my strong topic in school, but that would mean roughly 667,000 people a year, right? And that's not even accounting that logically, most of these people are not alone in their car, so the number of actual drivers is probably less than half of that.

Well, we just learned in the paper this morning that the city of Florence issues no less than 700,000 traffic fines to foreign drivers a year.

That's 1,918 a day, 13,461 a week, 58,333 a month. A whole parallel industry, or tourist
scam tax, one might say. A VERY lucrative one.

Now I better understand why this city looks so well-maintained... But you would think that given how much money they make out of basically everyone of us, they'd be able to better control all of these annoying, so crazy obvious pickpockets.

Early risers, 1, night owls, 0?

Interesting article, to be filed in the "useless research that nonetheless provide fun bits of trivia" category.


According to a poll study conducted in London by Dr. Joerg Huber of Roehampton University, people who wake up/get up earlier tend to be happier, healthier, and even thinner. 


Why would that be? "Maybe morning types are just better suited to this industrial world we are in than late risers", the doctor remarked. Mmm. I remember writing something along those lines a little while ago. I guess it makes sense. I'm still a bit surprised. Thinner??? A tentative explanation would be because they don't skip breakfast and then tend to snack less?


What are you? I'm an unrepentant early riser, although since these days I'm more of a "non-sleeper at nighter" (I blame both the children and the career/real estate-related stress), I could definitely sleep in longer in the mornings. Thankfully, and perhaps even more strangely, my kids are not very early risers for little ones, and they rarely rouse before 7.


But I don't actually feel that I'm in the majority or in the type society, or at least people around me, favours... I'm usually pretty much K.O. around 10 PM, and all my life I've been mocked/told off/viewed as an anthropologically strange specimen because of it. Any similar, or then widely different experience?

Er, you saw it here first?

Seen on display the other day in one of my favorites furniture stores:

And... Our actual dining room (picture is from our real estate listing):

(Story behind those chairs from last year. Mint condition 50s table we bought for $100 in an antique store this spring. You can extend it, but we chose not to while the house is for sale, so our space looks huge).

LA flowers, II

The second event I did in LA (first one here) was my friend's daughter birthday party. Little G was turning 5, and to celebrate, her mother threw a big bash at The Coop! I knew the stakes were high, because you might remember the out-of-this-world parties she tends to plan... Julie and her big girl had chosen orange, pink and yellow as the main colours, and my main inspiration for the flowers were "refined and whimsical".

I chose fluffy peonies (from Oregon, I don't think the California climate is cool enough for them to grow), delicate pink nerine, yellow zinnias, orange dahlias, pink anemones, and billy balls. I also used leftover eucalyptus pods and leaves from the other event, since their interesting texture and glossy narrow leaves made a pretty, unusual filler.

And here are a few pictures from the event, posted on the Blue Cupcake blog (Credit: Hans Ku):

Julie was really proud, because her event was even picked up on Amy Atlas' Sweet Designs website! Congrats ma belle!

Flowers, better late than never

fleur bleue now has an LA division! Well, as much as I'd like that to be true, not really. But I did work on two events while we were there in July. And as much as I'd like to be able to tell you that it's because I'm so big and I have all these contacts and sh*t, it's rather because my friend Julie the baker (who IS so big and sh*t) had two events planned during our stay, and asked me/arranged for me to be the designated florist.

We began by going to the Downtown LA Flower Market, which was a fantastic adventure in itself. Of course, I have been to the Flower District in Manhattan on several occasions, and have been rendered speechless by the variety and the abundance and the beauty every time, but in NY I have never been with a purpose. A budget, and a real event to pull off, and a head buzzing with ideas. But in LA, here it was... I was so excited, trying to think clearly, to come up with a vision for my two very different events, letting myself inspired by everything that they had. As simple and cliché as it may sound, wandering a gorgeous flower market with my arms full and knowing that I got to spend the rest of the day tending for my purchases = true, true, deep happiness.

At the same time, it was a bit bittersweet... Because it made me realize once and for all that here in Montreal, I would never be able to make fleur bleue a full-fledge endeavour and business the way I dreamt it could be... We just don't have neither the selection, nor the affordable prices, which are both key for an event florist. Since I don't have my own shop, I will always depend on many more middlemen, meaning that I probably will never be able to achieve a profitableness that could take it from a hobby to a at least a sideline that can help feed my family. The market here is small, there is not much of a culture for fresh flowers, the wedding season is short, I can only do two events a day, and brides are usually not willing to pay big bucks, especially for flower types that are fairly common and widely available.

But there... Everything would be different. Weddings happen throughout the year. The selection was incredible, and it would always be there. No scrambling to obtain what I want, no having to change my plans at the last minute because some flowers are not there, no hiked up prices (an example: I paid close to $40 for a bunch of (admittedly gorgeous, huge) dahlias here last year, even while they were in season... There, they were $8 a bunch). Instead, I would have: a much wider clientele, a budget that is exponentially stretched, endless variety (I was drooling over flowers I had previously only seen in books... And there they were, mine for the taking!!!), and also, endless inspiration. Sigh. LA people, you got it good.

Back to my flowers... The first event was a quincianera, thrown for a very beautiful and stylish girl. I was asked to do three arrangements: one in a shallow, but very large square vase, and two smaller, higher square ones. The colors of the party were white, deep red and black, so I decided to go very modern and dramatic.

I chose cascading white orchids so beautiful they kind of brought little tears to my eyes, black calla lilies, red gerberas, big fluffy white mums, red dahlias (what can I say? I lub them), glossy palm leaves and eucalyptus pods.

I put bébé in her sling (LP was playing in the backyard with my friend's kids), and I started working in the dining room, in some kind of a trance, while Julie and her crew baked off a storm in the kitchen.

Here was the result...

I loved them, although I must say the pictures never really do justice to the real arrangements... There's just so much dimension missing...

Second event to come later this week, hopefully!

September

Fall is already here... I love it but it always makes me a little sad, too. Among other things last week I shopped for the kids' winter outerwear, which they'll gradually start needing over the next few weeks. But all the while, it was sunny and 25 degrees C outside... Thus is our crazy, extreme climate.

F has now done two weeks in daycare. Her integration is still not complete (it hasn't been perfectly easy breezy, and it still hurts when I leave her and she gets that she stays there and I'm going), but overall she's being a little champ. Her very good and nurturing teachers tell me that she's playing, and smiling, and laughing, and eating, and even drinking a little milk  -always my challenge with her... She's now having regular full-fat cow's milk, which is such a relief because seriously, I hate the expensive and stinky formula and apparently she did, too. We're taking it easy with daycare, letting her get used to her new reality slowly...

She's now gone mobile. She's crawling (she started doing it backwards, then got the hang of it and is going forward too, using a surprisingly efficient mix of the two techniques to get around) and starting to pull herself up on the coffee table. Whenever I sit her on the floor, she immediately jumps to her belly, then hops herself on all fours, and leans forward and back, but hasn't started moving this way yet. Now, she doesn't want to be in my arms, doesn't want to stay in place, she wants to go! She's equally frustrated and funny.

All of a sudden, she stopped eating "baby food". She now has what we're having more often than not (usually it has to be chopped up a bit), has become an expert at pincer grasping little bits, and tries really hard to just feed herself with the spoon. She says 4 or 5 words (we're still not sure about the 5th one), claps her hands, does the "fish" sound with her mouth when she sees her goldfish. She points at everything, and then babbles endlessly -about it, I suppose.

LP loves being the official "big boy" at daycare. This year is all about school prep, and along with his teachers we're starting to focus on certain things he needs to master or accomplish in the next year so he's going to be ready. One of these things is autonomy (he's perfectly capable of dressing himself and putting his shoes on, but sometimes he refuses to do it alone), and the other thing is better managing his emotions. It comes and goes in phases, but sometimes he still has very baby-ish, extremely loud and dramatic tantrums and meltdowns, and they often startle and even scare people. I don't want him to think that it's not OK to be who he is (his personality is very deep-rooted at this point, and I want him to realize that I understand how it is to feel things a little stronger than most people), but he's very big now (he looks more like a 6 year-old than a 4 year-old), and the meltdowns have to go. We are trying to find ways for him to channel this differently... We're very hopeful that it will work.

The house has been on the market for 10 days... I can't really talk to you about it at this point, other than to say that it's a very intensive, involved, and stressful process. I don't think I've ever been this busy in my whole life. For the past month and a half, I keep hearing "you are really back to your pre-pregnancy figure now!" And to tell you the truth, I hadn't really noticed! It's not because I'm so virtuous with diet and exercising, it's more that I barely have time to eat, and that mealtimes are always more about getting the two kids to eat than doing so myself. (Please don't start worrying about me OK? I'm eating. This is actually good for me, not overeating and constantly obsessing about food).

I still have to find a job... For about a few weeks over the summer, it looked like my dream of a perfect work-life balance (working part-time, complementing with freelancing) could have actually happened... It looked like it was so close, just within reach. And then for various reasons all the doors closed on me one by one. Being in a bit of an awkward place (for instance trying to find jobs in French while all I have as far as online experience is this blog in English), not really knowing how to sell myself, having bad timing... Story of my career.

I still have a month of mat leave benefits left. I am currently trying to veer off the technical writing path slightly and applying for jobs in online communications/web communities and such... But I haven't had that much luck so far, and we now need my income more than ever with the new house. So I guess that if that doesn't work soon, back to technical writing it is... Am I seeing this as a bit of a personal failure? A little, not at all in the sense that it's a terrible career, au contraire, but in the sense that I was longing for a change of life and doing what I truly love. Then, most people don't really earn a living with what they're passionate about... Maybe I was too eager and I still need time for this to happen eventually. We'll see.

Where were you?

I was living in Germany at the time. I was six hours ahead so it was a quarter to 3 PM for me... That very morning I had spoken on a French CBC radio night show, like I sometimes did during that year, talking about my life as an expat, and being a foreigner in this peculiar country.

I was sitting at my desk in my small apartment, working on my master's thesis, streaming the aforementioned radio like I did when I felt homesick. And this is when I learned. For the first fifteen minutes, things only felt unsettled and confused, and weird. I dropped the radio and tuned in to CNN, which in Europe is broadcasting from London. It's only when the second plane hit that I think I realized, and recoiled in deep shock and horror. Before that it could still have been some kind of a terrible, freak accident. But now it was clear that it wasn't.

So I just sat there and watched, for hours and hours and into the night and into the days that followed. I sat and I watched and I cried. And I had never felt that far away from home and from the people I loved (my dad was in Italy and he called me that night). I knew, we all knew that our life would never be the same.

I kind of consider NYC to be my second home now, but back then I had never been. So I don't have a point of comparison, of Manhattan before and after. In the fall of 2005 M and I visited Ground Zero. The pain all came back, still so surprisingly raw. It hadn't changed that much in four years... Since then it has started to, it doesn't look like a wreckage site so much anymore, and is slowly morphing into the memorial space it will end up being for future generations. We were also there in September 11, 2006 (the 5-year anniversary) and I remember getting out of a restaurant in Soho and seeing this group of people all looking in the same direction. Night had fallen and there in the void, towards the South, were two huge vertical blue lights where the towers once stood. I was pregnant with LP. I remember wondering how we could ever explain that to our child one day. I still don't know.


I'm still having a hard time processing all of this.


Ten years.

Where were you?

Hello fashion lovers!

If you're Canadian, you've probably seen these ads for a while now... If not, you might have a chuckle. Or think I'm really dumb to post this. I don't know.

I think these are just a little short of genius, by the way. They really don't break any artsy conventions or shake your vision of the world, and they sell clothes from an ubiquitous Montreal-based retailer, but they still have a lot going for them. They're silly and absurd, but at the same time not that far off from reality, in both the couture creations and the fashion "critics". They're quirky and a little weird, but at the same time warmly so. They are almost the same in English and French and totally work in both official languages, which very rarely happens and is no small feat in this country of the "two solitudes". And also, who doesn't like to have a laugh at the expense of the pretentious and the supposedly beautiful? Real life wins. So everyone wins.




(Lunch break, barbecue, walk in the park, city bus, airplane, date night)









(The bank)

Orange

In February, when we went to New York to celebrate the life of our little friend Prince Liam the Brave, we were all asked to wear orange, which was Liam's favorite color. I still remember the church flooded in that color very vividly. While we -hundreds of people united in their love and grief for a wonderful little boy- all walked to the reception site on 26th St., someone even stopped M and asked, curious and amazed: "What's with all the orange?" After that, it has become the non-official color of Cookies for Kids Cancer.



Since then, I was bemused to see another orange wave take place here in Canada, when during the spring federal election campaign, the NDP adopted it and took the country by storm, going from a minor party to becoming the official opposition with 103 seats, including a whopping 59 here in Quebec. Most of this was due to its leader, the charismatic, extremely likeable, real, inspiring Jack Layton. Even though I don't deny being a moderate leftist, I don't usually discuss my own political affiliations here... But I was part of the orange wave. I voted NDP.

Jack Layton, who was the same age as my father, passed away last week after a fulgurant disease.

My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.

(Layton's letter to Canadians, August 20, 2011).









Orange. Hope. And cancer. Forever in my mind intertwined.