Callaloo Soup

Don't ask. Been taking photos

Don't ask. Been taking photos but not been uploading them. Gonna make up for it though, and in a big way! First I'll start with the most recent, taken on Monday evening. A group of us from my street had an impromptu apero de quartier -basically a street cocktail party :) Lucas, the hubby, took some of these.

Apero de Quartier

Don't you just love it when I write my titles in French? It's only because what I'm about to describe sounds much nicer in French than English. Street Party just doesn't do it for me!

Basically apero is short for aperitif, which is that lovely French custom of having an appetiser before the appertiser. At least an hour (and sometimes as much as two or three) before sitting down to your evening meal there's the apero during which you drink mainly sweet wines like those from the Alsace region, and munch on delicacies like peanuts and chips. The munchies are definitely not the important part of this custom!

The phone rang about 7:00 p.m. on Monday evening, it was Lucas telling me he was downstairs. Um, ok, he was supposed to be passing by to see one of our neighbours when he got home from work, so I thought that's what he meant. Nope. Apparantly said neighbour and several others had spontaneously decided to have a neighbourhood apero outside. And they wanted to know where I was. I reluctantly dragged myself downstairs armed with the cellar key (so that Lucas could get some wine) after telling Vernell in ym that I wouldn't be gone for long. Yeah right. We stumbled (just kidding) back in around 11:00! A totally fun evening, getting to meet neighbours that we had only been passing on the street for the last 36 months. The main topic of conversation was " I've been living here for x number of years and never met you before! How is that possible?"

My street is starting to feel a bit more like home.

(for more photos check out my photo blog)

Apero de Quartier

Don't you just love it when I write my titles in French? It's only because what I'm about to describe sounds much nicer in French than English. Street Party just doesn't do it for me!

Basically apero is short for aperitif, which is that lovely French custom of having an appetiser before the appertiser. At least an hour (and sometimes as much as two or three) before sitting down to your evening meal there's the apero during which you drink mainly sweet wines like those from the Alsace region, and munch on delicacies like peanuts and chips. The munchies are definitely not the important part of this custom!

The phone rang about 7:00 p.m. on Monday evening, it was Lucas telling me he was downstairs. Um, ok, he was supposed to be passing by to see one of our neighbours when he got home from work, so I thought that's what he meant. Nope. Apparantly said neighbour and several others had spontaneously decided to have a neighbourhood apero outside. And they wanted to know where I was. I reluctantly dragged myself downstairs armed with the cellar key (so that Lucas could get some wine) after telling Vernell in ym that I wouldn't be gone for long. Yeah right. We stumbled (just kidding) back in around 11:00! A totally fun evening, getting to meet neighbours that we had only been passing on the street for the last 36 months. The main topic of conversation was " I've been living here for x number of years and never met you before! How is that possible?"

My street is starting to feel a bit more like home.

(for more photos check out my photo blog)

We recycle, do you?

I think I mentioned before that in a previous life I worked in Environmental Management in the Caribbean. One of the areas that was still under development (and probably still is) was recycling. Small islands just don't produce the quantity of recyclable waste to make recycling plants viable. The only material that is successfully recycled, as far as I am aware, is glass (all those beer botttles).

So it was a pleasure for me when I lived in the US to be able to actually practise what I'd been preaching, and put out my little blue box full of packaging at the curbside every week. And here in France also. Our town provided each resident with a special tote bag for holding the waste and carrying it down to the bins. And just up the street there is a depository for glass waste.

Yesterday I decided to finally get rid of the beer bottles that had been piling up. Ok that sounds bad, we don't really drink a lot of beer, but on our trip north last month we stocked up on good Belgian beer (which even I like), and then last week a friend visited and bought a case of beer to go with the pizza we ordered.

So I filled up a bag with the bottles and trudged up the street to the depository. I have to say it gave me a good feeling. I also discovered that I really like the sound of the bottles breaking as I tossed them in, and I used more force with each one. I think getting rid of my bottles will be a good way to work off any frustrations, talk about cheap therapy!

We recycle, do you?

I think I mentioned before that in a previous life I worked in Environmental Management in the Caribbean. One of the areas that was still under development (and probably still is) was recycling. Small islands just don't produce the quantity of recyclable waste to make recycling plants viable. The only material that is successfully recycled, as far as I am aware, is glass (all those beer botttles).

So it was a pleasure for me when I lived in the US to be able to actually practise what I'd been preaching, and put out my little blue box full of packaging at the curbside every week. And here in France also. Our town provided each resident with a special tote bag for holding the waste and carrying it down to the bins. And just up the street there is a depository for glass waste.

Yesterday I decided to finally get rid of the beer bottles that had been piling up. Ok that sounds bad, we don't really drink a lot of beer, but on our trip north last month we stocked up on good Belgian beer (which even I like), and then last week a friend visited and bought a case of beer to go with the pizza we ordered.

So I filled up a bag with the bottles and trudged up the street to the depository. I have to say it gave me a good feeling. I also discovered that I really like the sound of the bottles breaking as I tossed them in, and I used more force with each one. I think getting rid of my bottles will be a good way to work off any frustrations, talk about cheap therapy!

Start Today

I don't as a rule forward all the hundreds of cheesy e-mails that come my way, but I definitely wanted to share this one that was sent to me by my Mum. Sometimes the inspiration you are waiting for is sitting in your e-mail in box. I don't know the original author of this, so unfortunately I cannot credit him or her.

The Daffodil Principle

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come to
see the daffodils before they are over."

I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead

"I will come next Tuesday," I promised a little reluctantly on her third
call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I
drove there.

When I finally walked into Carolyn's house I was welcomed by the joyful
sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.

"Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and
fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I
want to see badly enough to drive another inch!"

My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'm
heading for home!" I assured her.

"I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car." "How far
will we have to drive?"

"Oh...just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "But I'll drive. I'm used to this."

After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are we going? This isn't the way
to the garage!"

"We're going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of the
daffodils."

"Carolyn," I said sternly, "please turn around."

"It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you
miss this experience."

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a
small church.


On the far side of the Church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that
read, "Daffodil Garden."

We got out of the car, each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down
the path. Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay
the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat
of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and it's surrounding slopes.


The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and
swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron
and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large
groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique
hue. There were five acres of flowers.

"Who did this?" I asked Carolyn.

"Just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her
home."

Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in
the midst of all that glory.

We walked up to the house. On the patio, we saw a poster. "Answers to the
Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline.

The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second
answer was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one
brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."

For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman
whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb
at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop.
Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever
changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created
something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles
of celebration. That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one
step at a time--often just one baby-step at time--and learning to love the
doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort,
we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the
world.

"It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have
accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years
ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those years?
Just think what I might have been able to achieve!"

My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way.

"Start today," she said.

She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays.
The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for
regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use today?"

Use the Daffodil Principle. Stop waiting; Until your car or home is paid
off; Until you get a new car or home; Until your kids leave the house; Until
you go back to school; Until you finish school;

Until you clean the house; Until you organize the garage; Until you clean
off your desk; Until you lose 10 lbs.; Until you gain 10 lbs.; Until you get
married; Until you get a divorce; Until you have kids; Until the kids go to
school; Until you retire; Until summer; Until spring; Until winter; Until
fall; Until you die...

There is no better time than right now to be happy.

Start Today

I don't as a rule forward all the hundreds of cheesy e-mails that come my way, but I definitely wanted to share this one that was sent to me by my Mum. Sometimes the inspiration you are waiting for is sitting in your e-mail in box. I don't know the original author of this, so unfortunately I cannot credit him or her.

The Daffodil Principle

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come to
see the daffodils before they are over."

I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead

"I will come next Tuesday," I promised a little reluctantly on her third
call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I
drove there.

When I finally walked into Carolyn's house I was welcomed by the joyful
sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.

"Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and
fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I
want to see badly enough to drive another inch!"

My daughter smiled calmly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears, and then I'm
heading for home!" I assured her.

"I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car." "How far
will we have to drive?"

"Oh...just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "But I'll drive. I'm used to this."

After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are we going? This isn't the way
to the garage!"

"We're going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of the
daffodils."

"Carolyn," I said sternly, "please turn around."

"It's all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you
miss this experience."

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a
small church.


On the far side of the Church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that
read, "Daffodil Garden."

We got out of the car, each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down
the path. Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay
the most glorious sight. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat
of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and it's surrounding slopes.


The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and
swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron
and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large
groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique
hue. There were five acres of flowers.

"Who did this?" I asked Carolyn.

"Just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her
home."

Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in
the midst of all that glory.

We walked up to the house. On the patio, we saw a poster. "Answers to the
Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline.

The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second
answer was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one
brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."

For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman
whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb
at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop.
Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever
changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created
something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration.

The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles
of celebration. That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one
step at a time--often just one baby-step at time--and learning to love the
doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.

When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort,
we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the
world.

"It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have
accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years
ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those years?
Just think what I might have been able to achieve!"

My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way.

"Start today," she said.

She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays.
The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for
regret is to only ask, "How can I put this to use today?"

Use the Daffodil Principle. Stop waiting; Until your car or home is paid
off; Until you get a new car or home; Until your kids leave the house; Until
you go back to school; Until you finish school;

Until you clean the house; Until you organize the garage; Until you clean
off your desk; Until you lose 10 lbs.; Until you gain 10 lbs.; Until you get
married; Until you get a divorce; Until you have kids; Until the kids go to
school; Until you retire; Until summer; Until spring; Until winter; Until
fall; Until you die...

There is no better time than right now to be happy.

Hyped!

My June article is now live on the Diversity Designs website! Check it out! I'm really excited about it because it's a very special topic. Also take a look at the Monthly Inspiration section, very yummy pages by the DT there.

Hyped!

My June article is now live on the Diversity Designs website! Check it out! I'm really excited about it because it's a very special topic. Also take a look at the Monthly Inspiration section, very yummy pages by the DT there.

Branded!

One of the funniest things that's happened to me in France was discovering that there is a brand of flour called Francine. The first time I saw the shelves at the supermarket I laughed and laughed. It just totally tickles me every time I see it. Shortly after I arrived in France my mother-in-law bought us a couple packets of the flour as a surprise. Too funny. The TV ad for it says "It's always better with Francine" A truer word has never been spoken!