This is BY FAR the funniest video I have seen since the first time I ever discovered You Tube. Ames sensibles, s'abstenir !! Lots of language, but this woman is smart, hilarious and full of intelligent insight. She also gets in more fantastically repeatable one-liners in under 5 minutes than many comedy films do in 90 minutes. I love her and I can't stop watching this. Enjoy.
(Note: if you haven't been following the Eddie Long debacle, this might not be as funny to you... so Google Bishop Long and then come back and watch it. It's worth it.)
27 September 2010
22 May 2010
Viva l'italia !
I’m having one of the best vacations I’ve had in ages, which is funny because when this trip started last week, I thought it would be the worst. On the night train from Dijon to Rome, one of the other women in my compartment stole all the cash from my purse while I was sleeping. So much for women's solidarity. Then when I got to filthy, noisy, overcrowded, polluted and touristy Rome, it rained for almost 3 solid days. And, I was burning up with fever and suffering from what felt like the stomach flu, except nothing was coming out. Neat. Not.
The tribulations continued from Rome to Puglia. After the rotten first three days, I thought I deserved a first-class ticket for the train down to see Amory & Jim. So, I splurged, thinking I would have a 4-hour ride in the comfort of a modern, well-equipped train. This was true for almost the entire first hour of the journey. Then, the conductor came by and explained that we would all have to get off the train and onto a bus, because the tracks were washed out. (!!!???) The bus would take us to Foggia, where we would get back on another train. Of course, there’s no distinction between first and second class on a bus, and it was impossible to sleep with all the Italians jabbering away on their cell phones, not to mention the unbelievably overwhelming and unpleasant odour of stale cigarette smoke emanating from the couple sitting right in front of me that made it seem as though I had just licked several ashtrays myself. Then the second train seemed to be from about 50 years ago, so not exactly cushy travelling comfort, even in “1st class”. I am preparing another photo essay entitled “Italy: first or third world?” but that’s for another blog entry…
Luckily, things improved vastly as soon as Jim & Amory came to pick me up, right on time as usual (but the train was over an hour late!).
The weather has been nearly perfect, the food fantastic, the wine divine and the company splendid. We have spent time biking, chatting, eating and drinking. Amory has made several delicious meals at home, we were invited to a charming birthday party one evening, we ordered in pizza another time, and we had a fabulous evening out where somehow I managed to finish off everyone else’s pasta except Jim’s. I have overindulged in various kinds of cornetti filled with either vanilla cream or chocolate cream. Although I could almost fit into my skinny jeans before leaving Cormatin, I think that several weeks of major hiking will be required now before a true fit becomes a reality. La dolce vita !
The tribulations continued from Rome to Puglia. After the rotten first three days, I thought I deserved a first-class ticket for the train down to see Amory & Jim. So, I splurged, thinking I would have a 4-hour ride in the comfort of a modern, well-equipped train. This was true for almost the entire first hour of the journey. Then, the conductor came by and explained that we would all have to get off the train and onto a bus, because the tracks were washed out. (!!!???) The bus would take us to Foggia, where we would get back on another train. Of course, there’s no distinction between first and second class on a bus, and it was impossible to sleep with all the Italians jabbering away on their cell phones, not to mention the unbelievably overwhelming and unpleasant odour of stale cigarette smoke emanating from the couple sitting right in front of me that made it seem as though I had just licked several ashtrays myself. Then the second train seemed to be from about 50 years ago, so not exactly cushy travelling comfort, even in “1st class”. I am preparing another photo essay entitled “Italy: first or third world?” but that’s for another blog entry…
Luckily, things improved vastly as soon as Jim & Amory came to pick me up, right on time as usual (but the train was over an hour late!).
The weather has been nearly perfect, the food fantastic, the wine divine and the company splendid. We have spent time biking, chatting, eating and drinking. Amory has made several delicious meals at home, we were invited to a charming birthday party one evening, we ordered in pizza another time, and we had a fabulous evening out where somehow I managed to finish off everyone else’s pasta except Jim’s. I have overindulged in various kinds of cornetti filled with either vanilla cream or chocolate cream. Although I could almost fit into my skinny jeans before leaving Cormatin, I think that several weeks of major hiking will be required now before a true fit becomes a reality. La dolce vita !
26 February 2010
Tis the season
Spring seems to be just around the corner… the temperatures have leaped into the double-digits (in Celsius, of course!), new-born lambs with spring-loaded legs are bouncing around like pop-up toys in the fields that are also full of countless new calves who kick up their heels.
The sun is getting up earlier and going to bed later.
There’s an entirely different feel to the air.
My backyard is full of birds serenading me to let me know they are back for good, no longer just passing through to warmer climes. Even the semi-wild cats have fresh good-hearted mischief and more love in them.
There’s only one thing I can say about it all, or rather, I’ll let Louis do the talking for me…
For some reason, the site is not letting me put the video in here, so please click on the "Tis the season" title now.
17 February 2010
My intentions of napping on the train to Paris have been thwarted by the screaming baby in the row just in front of me and to my left… shouldn’t there be an age and/or height limit to get into the first-class cars, like on carnival rides? Here is where I would actually be for a “separate but equal” policy – families travelling with screaming, boisterous children could all go in one car, and business and child-free travellers can be in another car, just like there used to be smoking and non-smoking compartments… I purposely chose my travel dates so as to avoid the school holidays, a time when trains in France are any childless person’s worst nightmare… but I am being punished for my organization by someone too young to be affected by the winter break. I take some solace in the fact that I can see on the faces of everyone else around me that they are also totally irritated. The sign that reads “Voiture silencieuse” on the door seems to mock us. We are travel martyrs but at least we have more comfortable seats than in 2nd class…
So, since I can’t sleep, I thought I’d take advantage of the plug at my seat to follow up on my return to the blog.
In the same vein as that first note of the year, herewith some more reasons why I would never want to move back to Paris or any big city for that matter. This morning I took the photos that follow during a 15-minute walk back to my house from dropping my car off at the garage to have some work done on it while I’m in Paris. Can you imagine getting this scenery during a 15-minute walk in Paris? or anywhere else for that matter? Can you feel the love?
A love which grows as the train whizzes through the rest of Burgundy, which appears to be entirely snowbound and bitterly cold.
Enjoy.
So, since I can’t sleep, I thought I’d take advantage of the plug at my seat to follow up on my return to the blog.
In the same vein as that first note of the year, herewith some more reasons why I would never want to move back to Paris or any big city for that matter. This morning I took the photos that follow during a 15-minute walk back to my house from dropping my car off at the garage to have some work done on it while I’m in Paris. Can you imagine getting this scenery during a 15-minute walk in Paris? or anywhere else for that matter? Can you feel the love?
A love which grows as the train whizzes through the rest of Burgundy, which appears to be entirely snowbound and bitterly cold.
Enjoy.
27 January 2010
Back on the blog
Now that I’m single again, I should have more time to update the blog (although we can all cross our fingers that more work will be coming in soon to prevent me from having too much free time on my hands, and of course, that Prince Charming will arrive in the not-too distant future too… ;)
People often ask me if I miss Paris now that I live out in the boonies. This question bewilders me, as it seems so OBVIOUS to me how much better life is out here in the country and what could I possibly miss about the stress/noise/pollution/dog-poop on the sidewalks/overcrowded and smelly subway/constant aggression from your fellow Parisian/no smiles/not nearly enough trees or space or sunshine, etc etc etc.
In my mind, what sums up the perfection of where I reside is something quite simple.
It is this:
I see blue herons every day.
Ever since I was a little girl in Texas, blue herons have been one of my favorite birds. I think they are strikingly beautiful, so graceful, and then that unusual color…
We used to get so excited on the exceptional occasion that we would spot one on Lake Livingston or Lake Conroe.
Now I see them all the time. Literally every day. Sometimes in groups of 5 or 6, usually just one on its own. Yet I am never blasé in their presence. I saw one swoop down and nail a fish last week, a first, and I almost shouted out loud with joy.
I always know that the best way to ensure that I get really, really close to one before it flies off is to forget to take my camera on a walk. Somehow, they sense this.
I never take them for granted.
I also see countless crows, starlings, goldfinches, thrushes, buzzards, kestrels, robins, white egrets, ducks, geese, cormorants, coots, etc. and the occasional couple of swans. But it’s the blue herons that get me every time. Their beauty moves me, in much the same way as the southern Burgundy landscapes.
Yes, sometimes I wish I could eat sushi every week, or just walk downstairs to pick out some of my favorite cheeses and maybe a new pair of shoes, or not have to worry about driving home after a late night at a fabulous restaurant… but those times are rare, while here, blue herons are not.
People often ask me if I miss Paris now that I live out in the boonies. This question bewilders me, as it seems so OBVIOUS to me how much better life is out here in the country and what could I possibly miss about the stress/noise/pollution/dog-poop on the sidewalks/overcrowded and smelly subway/constant aggression from your fellow Parisian/no smiles/not nearly enough trees or space or sunshine, etc etc etc.
In my mind, what sums up the perfection of where I reside is something quite simple.
It is this:
I see blue herons every day.
Ever since I was a little girl in Texas, blue herons have been one of my favorite birds. I think they are strikingly beautiful, so graceful, and then that unusual color…
We used to get so excited on the exceptional occasion that we would spot one on Lake Livingston or Lake Conroe.
Now I see them all the time. Literally every day. Sometimes in groups of 5 or 6, usually just one on its own. Yet I am never blasé in their presence. I saw one swoop down and nail a fish last week, a first, and I almost shouted out loud with joy.
I always know that the best way to ensure that I get really, really close to one before it flies off is to forget to take my camera on a walk. Somehow, they sense this.
I never take them for granted.
I also see countless crows, starlings, goldfinches, thrushes, buzzards, kestrels, robins, white egrets, ducks, geese, cormorants, coots, etc. and the occasional couple of swans. But it’s the blue herons that get me every time. Their beauty moves me, in much the same way as the southern Burgundy landscapes.
Yes, sometimes I wish I could eat sushi every week, or just walk downstairs to pick out some of my favorite cheeses and maybe a new pair of shoes, or not have to worry about driving home after a late night at a fabulous restaurant… but those times are rare, while here, blue herons are not.
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