The Heat (and hunt) Is On
Today was our second to last day, so we had to start to make decisions: what MUST we still do? And what in the world will we buy as souvenirs?
Finally hit the Marais, a twisty-street neighborhood full of shops, restaurants and art — in galleries, and on walls. I love fun graffiti. Paris is full of it — especially the pac-mans you see high up on street corners.
Started with a cappucino at the Place des Vosges, considered one of the prettiest squares in Europe. Have to say I agree!
Had brunch at a recommended crepe place — Cafe Breizh (https://breizhcafe.com/fr/). Guess others read the same guidebook, as it was packed minutes after opening with English speakers. But it wasn’t touristy, and I would say my first buckwheat crepe was a success.
We were going to visit the Musee Picasso, but it was Monday so it was closed. Which reminded us: the Louvre is closed Tuesdays, so we revamped our itinerary and added it to the afternoon plans. Enjoyed meeting a few dogs, including these Westies who seemed a little confused at seeing mirror images of one another, and this darling shop dog who greeted us so happily:
Headed to the Ile de Cite, to finally see the inside of Notre Dame, which did not disappoint.
Kudos to this guy, who had the unofficial job of rearranging all the offering candles at Notre Dame:
Wanted to head up the tower, but couldn’t get a spot for hours, so decided to tack that on to the Tuesday plan, ans metro-ed to the Louvre, which was way more crowded than the last time we went. And hot. And poorly planned — exit signs are rather arbitrary, we found. And the women’s bathroom was planned with chaos in mind. But hey: it’s the Louvre, so everything is at least cool to look at!
Back home for a rest and shower, then headed back to Ile de Cite for a stunning Seine river cruise on Vedettes du Pont Neuf (http://www.vedettesdupontneuf.com/home/). If we had done the cruise 30 minutes prior we would’ve watched the sunset, but being there for the first evening’s lighting of the Eiffel Tower was a great trade off. First time we’d been cold however: got windy on that top deck. Heartily recommend book-ending this trip like we did: bike tour up front, and river cruise at the end. Helped us both plan and remember everything.
Dinner afterwards in the Latin Quarter. Had French Onion Soup and Beef Bourgingnon at Chex Fernand (http://www.chezfernand-guisarde.com/), then metro-ed home, exhausted. Tomorrow is our last day… and we still haven’t bought a thing.
How very Versailles
Yesterday we did a little day trip back into the 1600s, and visited Versailles. Fancy schmancy much?
The gardens were gorgeous — made all the more so by the fact that they sell wine in the hedges. I was hoping for more blooms, but then I saw they were getting more than a foot of snow at home so I shut up.
Everyplace you look in Paris is a museum that used be a castle, and of course this is no exceptions. Louis did it up good with these digs, compensating for a pretty crappy childhood. I mean, he thought it sucked but it was a mite better than the peasants nearby. We wandered the grounds, then did the chateau. Every time we go in one of these huge once-I-was-someone’s-house museums, HWSNBN has the same thought: what if you wandered all the way to the other side of the chateau and said — shit! Left my cell phone in the other wing? I told him they had people for that.
I liked Louis’s fake bedroom better than his real one. Yeah, he had a fake bedroom, the one where people hung out and kissed his ring. Didn’t get to see the queen’s rooms, as they were being renovated (thinking they are not going for the white painted woodwork and grey walls that everyone and their three cousins seems to be into anymore).
My fave part of the day may have been when we walked by Marie Antoinette’s sheep farm. I was struggling to remember the French word for sheet, when a French boy, all dolled up in his scarf, called to them: “Le Mouton! Le Mounton!” Thanks, kid. Almost as funny as when a woman waiting for the metro today had to deal with her disobeying toddler by saying “Un…deux…” we added in the “don’t make me say trois!” Parenting is the same all over, even if your kid is in an outfit that costs a car payment.
Had une biere, then hit the train home. We were wiped. Needed an early night, so found a tapas restaurant, A Noste ( https://www.a-noste.com/) near home and grubbed up. As much as I have adored the food here, it was nice to get a little spice!
Contrary to Popular Opinion, Fifty Does NOT Suck
I am a bit behind on my blog, as I have been busy being old.
I turned the big 5-0 on Saturday, which isn’t as horrific as many assume it will be. Every decade seems to bear a certain responsibility. In your 20s, it’s all about having as much fun as possible, because everyone expects it of you (time of your life and all that). In your 30s, you are charged with making your mark on the world. In my case, I was doing the baby thing, and my kids were 1-11 during those years. I was tired. In your forties, you endeavor to have as much fun as you did in your 20s, because you can, damn it, and now you have more money to do so (but you tire easily. Those 30s kinda killed ya).
But 50 feels like it’s time to chill, in a good way. No pressure to do-be-act-experience. It’s about doing what you want, and enjoying it all. Not to say there aren’t pressures (would still like to get back to what my 40 year old self thought was fat), but they are different. I retire from my school volunteering duties in June, and the empty nest thing happens in August. I look forward to dusting off that old bucket list and crossing shit off (I love me a good list). So I started that this week.
I danced on the Champs Elysee on my birthday.
It wasn’t a major production — just a few laughing steps. But at 50 you realize it’s not about the grand gesture (although, yes, being in Paris is pretty damn grand). It’s about enjoying the moments. And this one was special, as I did it with the person who made it happen, and who matters most.
What else did we do on my birthday? Sightseeing of course! We first stopped off at Napoleon’s tomb, at the Hotel d’Invalides and saw the Musee d’army (http://www.musee-armee.fr/accueil.html). That dude had quite the ego — check outthe pic below of his sarcphagus, filled with him inside 6 coffins. Thing was the size of a minivan.
Next it was brunch at La Comtesse (love a waiter that walks backward after bringing you your order) (https://comtesse-hotel.com/). Then we wandered the Champs du Mar park on our way to the Tour de Eiffel, then to the Pont D’alma to see it from a different angle (the spot for bridal pics for sure). On to another viewing spot at the Palais de Chaillot on our way to the Arc de Triomphe. A word of warning: there is no warning when you start those stairs. You show your ticket and you are off. It hurt.
Then it was the Champs Elysee — not as fab as it was back in the day, but still pretty cool. At 50, you don’t lament that it’s not like it was in Audrey Hepburn’s movies, you’re just glad that you are there and focus on the Cartier store, not the McDonald’s.
We strolled the Jardin des Tulieries next to the Louvre, then headed home to ready for our BIG DINNER.
HWSNBN was given one task — decide where we would eat o our bday (oh yeah — in case youd idn’t know, he and I have the same bday). He did good. When we told our bike tour guide where we were eating, she did a head swivel and practically drooled with jealousy.
The tOur d”argent. If you click one link, make it be this one: https://tourdargent.com/
It was gorgeous. The windows reveal a view of Notre Dame and the surrounding areas like you would not believe. And the food! And the service! (And the food.) And the wine. (THE FOOD!)
We chose the six course duck tasting menu. Sublime (it’s listed on the website, starting with the Autour de Caton). I gave my first course to HWSNBN — duck tartare mixed with lobster (I don’t do seafood), and avoided the egg and mushrooms in course three, but everything else I could’ve had three times over. What the French can do with sauces is obscene. Before we even ate our meal, we had three amuse bouches — dear God. And after our dessert, they brought us more desserts. And after that they learned it was our birthday and brought us another one. More than three hours later…
We waddled to see the cathedral du Notre Dame in the moonlight. Here we were, fat and happy, and folks were lining up for a midnight race. Not us. Uber for this girl, and bed.
Fifty is just fine!
TGIF in F
Something about getting a pain du chocolat and drinking espresso in a Paris cafe. You just feel more chic — even with le powdered sugar all over your shirt.
That’s how we kicked off Friday in Paris. It was so sunny and beautiful — we were warned of a late afternoon shower, but the morning was glorious. Hopped the metro (BTW the metro pass is a brilliant way to save time and euros) and headed south. It was a totally different area for us — not touristy at all (and hilly). On our way we bumped into what is so far my favorite church: St Etienne du Mont (http://www.saintetiennedumont.fr/). This church is dedicated to St Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris. It was so beautiful, and maybe becasue it wasn’t on my “list” it was a delight. I am a sucker for a curved marble staircase — it just seems so hard to make!
Just a block further and we reached our first official stop: The Pantheon (http://www.paris-pantheon.fr/). Like so many things in Paris, it was begin by a king as a church (in this case King Louis XV vowed to build a shrine to St Genevieve if he survived an illness — he did!), but after the revolution kingly stuff was a no-no, and churches weren’t awfully welcome, either. Napoleon saved this one and many more by making them government buildings. He’s kind of a big deal here (more on that in the next post).
Stepping outside the Pantheon we were wowed by a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower. Headed in that direction but first a stop at the Jardin de Luxembourg (http://www.senat.fr/visite/jardin/index.html). So nice to see things blooming — trees, flowers, people’s attitudes — especially knowing that home is about to get hit with snow. From there it was off looking for a shop that sounded cool. We hadn’t shopped at al yet, and Gab and Jo sounded like a great place to get un-touristy-souvenirs. Alas, it was closed, so we meandered down the street for a little wine and lunch. Found a table street side called Le Pre Aux Clercs (http://www.restaurant-preauxclercs.com/) Shared two apps and a salad, and had bread on all of them. Only the French would throw a slice of toast on a salad, and still look thin! Our next-door-table mates had a charming baby. Children are the great ice breaker while travelling: an elderly French woman stopped to chat with the American parents, exclaiming the child’s cuteness, then, of course, giving advice. In any language, a mom can tell when another mom says she is doing it wrong (in this case the piece of bread the baby had was too big. Sigh).
After lunch I tried the shop again, but it was still closed. So we headed to our goal location: the Musee D’Orsay. This museum, housed in a gorgeous old train museum, takes over where the Louvre leaves off, and is packed with Renoir, Degas, Manet, Monet, Van Gogh and more. Gorgeous, of course. Our downloaded Rick Steve’s app helped us meaningfully meander!
Then we rushed home to clean up before our 5pm Wine Tasting class at O Chateau (http://o-chateau.com/). A great thing to do if you visit Paris — I mean, we know a lot about wine, but French wines? Nothing. There were more than 20 of us in a cool room, letting Olivier preach. Tried 6 wines and left sufficiently schooled. Biggest things we learned: the French name wines after regions, not grapes (or Chablis, not Chardonnay) and if you want fruitier more full bodied wines, get them from places where there is lots if sunshine.
After dinner we hit the Louvre (tip: it’s open ate Weds and Fri so no lines). We were able to get up close and personal very easily with the Mona Lisa, and enjoyed seeing a lot more, Might go back on our last day (with the awesome Musee Pass we can go back for free anytime). The sunset as we left was gorgeous!
Wandered off, and found Willli’s bar (http://www.williswinebar.com/willis-wine-bar-paris.html). Gotta love a bar named after a dog — a mutt no less. Had a great conversation with our British bar tender and an Australian patron about the friendliness of bars in different countries (we have still yet
to experience the dreaded French pissy attitude).
Should’ve gone to bed, but it’s vaca, so dinner at 10 makes sense, A friend recommended L’Escargot on a great street near our place, Rue Montorgueil (http://escargotmontorgueil.com/). Yes, I tried snails. They were fine. Not a big deal.
Voyage a Paris Days 1-3 (I think)
It’s hard to know how to count the days of a vacation when you leave on one day but arrive on the next…got into Paris yesterday about 4pm, so I guess we have technically been here less than a day? So far so good, with only minor glitches.
MSP airport was totally empty, which was weird. We arrived with HWSNBN on the defensive though, and irritated because for some reason Delta wouldn’t recognize him (don’t you know who I am?) online and wouldn’t give us free bags or pre-check. So had to line up and ask — and they were so helpful (a theme so far on this trip). Made sure we were getting our miles, and fixed everything up so his feathers were unruffled. Flew through security (thank you Clear) and settled into a bar seat. Beer in hand, we said goodbye to to do lists and hello to “what should we do next?” lists.
Tried to sleep but failed completely (fitbit clocked me at 1 1/2 hours total). I seriously think I am getting restless leg syndrome, and a tight airplane seat for 7 plus hours did not help.
Our Amsterdam layover was pretty short, so we were hustlin’ not shufflin’ from gate to gate. Did a quick self transfer, and it said we had missed our flight — which wasn’t scheduled to take off for an hour and a half. A quick check with the friendly airplane staff (in their cute bright blue uniforms) and they smiled at us and said you are fine! Your gate is right over here! Another grumpy HWSNBN moment suppressed.
He did keep trying to be grumpy — every line made him irritated. He kept looking at his phone, cantankerously commenting on how no one would leave him alone (I reminded him that if he didn’t look at it he wouldn’t know, to which I received the patented HWSNBN side eye.)
The airport in Master dam reminded me of an Ikea store. Every time I tried to read a sign I felt the urge to grab an allen wrench. Other highlights: a darling tea shop where you sat in replica Delft tea cups (I wondered if they spun a la Disneyland), a Bombay Sapphire booth that made me think of mom, and a tulip shop that made me giddy with thoughts of spring (yes, I know, supposed to get several more inches of snow in Minnesota this weekend. But a girl can dream!
The flight to Paris was 45 minutes — passed the time trying to read French magazines and listening to Rick Steves’ recordings. AND THEN WE WERE IN FRANCE!
Within minutes I saw someone in a beret, so that was cool. Bags in hand, we passed through the easiest customs check everywhere — no looking at passports, just a quick Bon Jour! Where are you from and how long will you be staying and we were on our way to the metro. The chill attitude toward security in this country is ironically juxtaposed with all the army folks toting automatic weapons. Today my bag was going through a security check, but the guy was chatting the whole time with the next person in line. Never even looked at the screen.
Some advice: I asked to buy a week long metro pass. I got one, but it started 2 days prior. So I am guessing they run Mon-Mon, but I think we were only charged for 5 days. I think. And it was totally reasonable — like $25 for unlimited metro rides. But if you are coming here and plan to get a metro pass, bring a passport picture, as you have to have one on your pass. Had to wait in line a bit at a kiosk to obtain one — and let me tell ya: you do NOT want a photo of yourself after being up all night on two planes and haven’t slept for about 30 hours…
We helped an English family who didn’t have change for the machine, then HWSNBN was thrilled to be able to use is Spanish to help a Spanish couple understand how the passes work. (he keeps trying to speak Spanish instead of French. If we thought the Italians didn’t appreciate years ago, the French find it even less amusing).
I had a handy-dandy metro app that gets us easily from point A to B –when the trains are working. We hit a glitch when you couldn’t transfer where we wanted to. And oh yeah: no elevators or escalators in most metros, so lugging big suitcases kinda sucked.
We were late to check in to our apartment, so the guy meeting us told us he’d be back after helping another client. HWSNBN had serious frown lines at this point, so I suggested a bar we had passed. It was one that I had already learned about during my trip research — Hoppy Corner( https://www.facebook.com/hoppycorner/) Had a great IPA called the Denis Hopper (get it?). Before we finished that the bartender brought is over a sample of another beer, and a bowl of barley (that was different) to snack on. People told me service here sucked: I have yet to see that. very bar/restaurant we have been to they have brought s extras without us mentioning it — a taste of this, a sample of that. Very cool.
(BTW: the man bun is flourishing in Paris. Thought they were ahead of the times stylistically, but guess not!)
Finally got into our apartment, a one bed, 1 1/2 bath place in the 2nd Arrondisement. Comfy bed, old creaky floors, what more can a gal want (a second electrical adapter, because someone only brought one…) http://www.parislondonapartments.com/rentals/allrentals/paris-2nd-arrondissement-aboukir/
Quick shower and change and we were off to dinner. We ate at a neighborhood place called Bistrot Richelieu (http://bistrotrichelieu.com/en/home/). First for me was onion soup (funny, they don’t call it French here…), then a duck breast in plum sauce while HWSNBN had roasted lamb. So yummy!
Then we wandered…this city is stunning. It is everything I wanted it to be — people carrying baguettes, wrought iron balconies on vanilla covered balconies, saucy dogs being walked by people in scarves, a museum on every corner…
Exhausted as we were, I couldn’t crash yet. I pointed out another bar/restaurant I had researched, right next door to our place, the Lockwood. (http://www.lockwoodparis.com/bar/) Gotta love a plce that hangs it’s liquor bottles from the ceiling with bungee cords. (HWSNBN liked it for it’s full page of gin and tonic options). I had a funky version of a Margarita, made with mezcal. I could drink that all day — smoky, refreshing, delicious. Chatted with the waitress about it and she brought us a sample of just the mezcal — that was it for us. We were done.
Slept well that night!
I was going to talk about today, but I have to go get ready for dinner. Guess it’ll have to wait for another day — bon soir!
The last 48 hours
When you go on vacation, things go into hyperdrive.
Need to pack.
Yes, that’s obvious. But what? Realize that you have only lost one of the 30 pounds you’ve tried to shed in the past 6 months, and you can’t bear to wear your fat clothes anymore, so it’s time to shop. Three days, three malls, umpteen stores, countless horrified reveals in traumatized dressing rooms, and a mortgage payment later, your bedroom is littered with shopping bags of all shapes sizes and price tags.
Need to do some personal me time things. Facial, eyebrow wax, lip max, botox (yeah, I do that. Whaddyagonnadoaboutit?). Get nails done. Force yourself to relax by leaning as focusing in the massage chair, leaning into it so that you don’t think of your to do list. Over do it and walk around with a bruised back for two days.
Obsess whole time you are taking me time about all the things you are not currently getting done.
Make sure everything is set for Senior Party planning to proceed in your absence. Sqear you will not check emails. Realize you are only one with access to party emails, and ignoring a half dozen smoke signals every day will result in a conflagration of epic proportions on your return. Grrr. Negotiate with yourself: you may check emails once in the morning and once in the evening, and will forward or table everything you can. Know that as you shake hands with yourself you are both lying.
Get asked last minute to take on a foster dog. Feel wretched about saying no. Write three From Fosters to Forevers posts in advance, and bring all teh stuff to (hopefully) keep up with that. Five minutes a day. That’s it. I swear. It’s for teh dogs…(secretly admit to self that you are super excited to see French dogs).
As you fly around your house, ripping tags off of new clothes (every ounce counts with Mr TSA), happily say “I’ll clean that yup when I get back.” Remember that you return on a Wednesday, have a meeting Wednesday night, one Thursday night, then host a dunner party for 10 Friday night. Quickly run around picking up trash.
Write instruction letter for Singer Girl. Realize that she is 18, so you don’t need a guardian to authorize medical care. Feel sad. Then realize: she’s 18. If she can’t figure out what to do while we are gone that’s her problem. So don’t write a big note. Feel happy.
Wonder…will the Senior Party auction do well in your absence? Will Singer Girl decide on a college? A prom hairstyle? What do we have to do for her graduation party? Oh yeah — need to order announcements for that…
Wonder if it’s too early to drink.
Make sure all credit cards, debit cards and cell phones will work in Europe.
Turn off newspaper cuz you know Singer Girl will ever pick it up.
Don’t turn off mail, even though you want to, because Singer Girl still doesn’t realize it comes every day. But can’t, because for some reason her new Driver’s License hasn’t arrived yet, even though you renewed yours at same time and yours arrived a week ago.
Haven’t grocery shopped in days, knowing that you need to do it for the girl. Listen to family grumble at the spoiled milk and sad lettuce heads in the fridge. Order Chinese and drink wine.
While getting hair done, frantically transpose all the notes you have obsessively been making on shops and restaurants in Paris onto the map you have created. Look like a dork — but your hair looks good!
Realize the uber is coming in 15 minutes and you need to turn off laptop. Promise the readers that you will do your best to have weird adventures and tell them all about it. Watch Singer Girl’s video one last time, and realize how lucky you are.
Where Have I Been?
I realized it has been 3 weeks since I last posted. It’s not that I haven’t thought about it — I have. But our lives are kind of in a holding pattern right now: nothing new, nothing exciting, just a lot of crap to do to get to the fun stuff. So out of nothing but pure writer’s guilt, I shall fill some space.
So what have we been up to?
A lot of stuff has to do with Singer Girl’s senior year. She hasn’t picked a college yet, but has narrowed it down to two. She will not be forced to make a decision before she has to — in her mind, that’s May 1, the national commitment date (my commitment date however, might be sooner, as this indecision is driving me crazy. I am so ready to discuss every last detail with her to help her decide. This is what happens with a research-driven Type A mom spawns a commitment-phobic procrastinator.). I reminded her today that we need a shirt from her chosen school to wear at her high school’s commitment day celebration, so she really should choose in time for us to order one and have it shipped. Doubt it’ll light a fire under her, but I’ll try anything at this point.
Also senior year related, the graduation after party is looming. I am just about to start on the last fundraiser, an online auction, which I have been doing predominantly by myself (shocking). I need this done and off my plate so I can focus on fun stuff (more about that later). We go live in 3 days — either we will be ready, or we won’t. Either will make bank, or we won’t. I’ll just raise ticket prices. Screw it: if folks complain, they shoulda helped with fund raising!
Hey remember the squirrel nest in Singer Girl’s car? Well, we think they have made like the Jeffersons and “moved on up”– to the inside of our attic and walls. It’s either that or mice, and the pest control guy says he thinks it’s both. I guess there is a downside to being a good host…we need to do some hole plugging (why does that sound bad?) to start. HWSNBN has set out posion and traps, but pest guy says that won’t stop the problem from reoccurring, of course. So THAT’s on the list…
We have been excitedly awaiting spring, which of course looks farther and farther away with each forecast. Got almost a foot of snow the other day, with more coming this weekend. Temps look to be in the 30s/low 40 for next week. Yippy skippy. At least I can put off yardwork…
But that will surely hit me with a vengeance in May, when I have to prep for house guests and a grad party, but that’s cool. I have sworn off fostering dogs until July, and once the auction is over and the girl has picked a school, my load should lighten a bit. I have a bunch of projects I want to get done before June: frame a huge antique map we found in the attic of the house we tore down to build this one, finally create a gallery of old family photos, finally arrange my bookshelves in an aesthetically pleasing way (yes, there is such a thing).
But first, I must plan and pack. This time next week I will be in Paris! Hoping to have lots to write about from there — the food, the wine, the art, the architecture. It’s supposed to be grey, wet and overcast while we are there, but I don’t care. I shall take far too many photos of “local flavor” and post way too many food pictures on Instagram. I shall fret over my lamentable French, and lament over how how effortlessly thin and chic the women are. Then I will shove another baguette in my mouth, wash it down with a gulp of wine, and realize it doesn’t matter. I am in Paris for my birthday, something that has been on my bucket list since I can remember. C’est magnifique!
Ya Gotta Check Under the Hood!
Still loving the new car — so much so that I am not thrilled to drive with dogs in it yet. Having a dog in my car is not an infrequent occurrence, and recently I had to go pick up a new foster dog. I did not know how this woofer would feel about car trips — some are excited, some nonchalant some poop puke and drool. So my new baby was not an option.
Grabbed the keys to Singer Girl’s car, which is always around thanks to Drummer Boy’s chauffeur services. Took off towards Secondhand Hounds (the rescue for whom I volunteer). About 10 minutes into the drive, noticed the temperature gauge was in the red. Uh, what?
Glanced at the upper left corner of the windshield, where the little oil change reminder sticker lives “change again in October 2017.”
Granted, she hadn’t driven the car the suggested 3000 miles since I had the oil changed in July. But still. You’d think she would’ve wondered if maybe, just maybe she should’ve checked that out!
Call up HWSNBN. He agrees with me: the dog can wait: get thee to a Jiffy Lube. So I do, slowly, watching that needle climb higher and higher into the red, sniffing furtively for smoke and waiting for the tell tale wisps. Totally not in the mood for an engine fire…
No line at the J-Lube. Explain the sitch. Dude rolls his eyes at me (seriously: not my car. I would never have let this happen in my ride!). Pull in, hand him the keys, and settle into the cracked vinyl waiting room seats, debating between Car and Driver April 2011, or Words with Friends…
“Um, mam? When was the last time you opened up this hood?” As I reply that it probably hadn’t had a breath of fresh air since summer, I glance at the car.
“What the HELL IS THAT????”
There is a hay bale under the hood.
I shit you not.
I approach the car, and notice three mechanics are pulling on gloves and glasses. They are goin’ in.
The tech declares it to be a squirrels’ nest, the biggest he’s ever seen (can’t help but feel proud). Please keep in mind that this car has been kept inside our attached, only 4 year old garage. It HAS been driven, albeit like 3 times a month max since summer. We could’ve had a goddamn brush fire on the freeway!
Text HWSNBN and Singer Girl. He reacts much like I did. She doesn’t respond. A few texts go back and forth in the group chat. Still no response from her. Eventually, I get an unrelated text: so when is the new dog getting here?
“Didn’t you get my other texts about your car?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you have any reaction?”
“Not really. Is the squirrel ok?”
THE SQUIRREL? Freakin’ rodent may have eaten all the wires and tubes in the engine!
But she does an online shrug at me and asks again about the dog.
Argh.
Meanwhile, the engine detaching has come to an end. They couldn’t get it all without risking damaging the car, so advised we get it in soon for a second opinion. And side note: the oil was fine, but the water level was low. The only thing causing the temp problem was the critter condo in the carburetor.
Since then, HWSNBN shop-vacced his heart out and removed a lot of the remaining debris. We also have squirrel traps all over the garage. He is channeling his inner Bill Murray ala Caddyshack gofer quest. The engine no longer runs hot. The dogs ride in my car with a very thick quilt on the pretty seats). And SInger Girl continues to ride off in the sunset with Drummer Boy. The squirrels are plotting their next move…
And the menu goes to…
I love the Oscars. In about 30 minutes I will turn on E! and watch the D listers start to arrive, wishing like I do every year that I was on those bleachers watching limos, or better yet strutting down the red carpet to collect my Oscar for best screenplay. I have blue cheese, prosciutto and strawberries waiting in the fridge. And, like very year, I will root for the ones I want to win, yet be resigned that they probably won’t.
Some of you may remember I am part of a Gourmet Club, and that I recently was looking for suggestions for a “Gourmet Goes to the Movies” menu. Last weekend we had the dinner, and I wanted to share what we made:
Themed Cocktail – James Bond’s Martini
Appetizers – Fresh Figs with Ibérico Ham and Goat Cheese, inspired by “Jamon, Jamon”
Stir-Fried Taiwanese Clams from “Eat, Drink, Man Woman”
Main Course – Vinnie’s Prison Tomato Sauce and Pasta from “Goodfellas”
Dessert – Apple Strudel with Vanilla-scented Whipped Cream – from Inglorious Basterds
We struggled a bit, as neither fresh figs nor fava beans were in season, but we managed. Everything was delish, and people seemed to have a ball as always. I kicked off the night with the classic party game where you put a famous person’s name on someone’s back and they have to guess who they are. All the people were actors who had only won one Academy Award. I also created a playlist on Spotify of music from the movies. I did not include “Let it Go.” (https://open.spotify.com/user/donni14/playlist/5JEADwOUEtnGm8PPAn4foQ)
But that was last week, and tonight is, well, The Big Night. Every year I endeavor to see every movie nominated, but I have of course never done that (some year!). So my next goal is all the movies represented in the big 6 (plus costume design if I can — I love that one!). This year I fell short, but did pretty well. Here are my predictions:
Best Actor: Gary Oldman, in Darkest Hour (didn’t see Denzel in Roman J. Israel, Esq; it’s languishing on my DVR). Oldman was soooo good. Seriously not recognizable, which is why I think this pic will also win for Makeup. My second choice was Timothee Chalamet in Call Me By Your Name. Between this and his excellent work in Lady Bird, this kid is going places (and I would totally be crushing on him if I were a teenager)
Best Actress: Frances McDormand in Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri (Did not see I, Tonya yet, which is crushing me. Went prom dress shopping yesterday instead and celebrated at a surprise party too much last night to get out of pjs today…) McDormand is like a working class Meryl Streep: when she is at the top of her game she is freaking unbeatable. I love that she wants to share the wealth, as she said after winning the SAG award: “This is really great and I thank you, but there’s a lot of young ones comin’ up and they need doorstops too. Let’s think about that.” Who would be my second pick? NOt sure — maybe Sally Hawkins for The Shape of Water. For not speaking, she sure said a lot.
Best Supporting Actor: Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards (didn’t see All The Money in the World). I mean, Rockwell was awesome. His transition from a hateful buffoonery to tortured hero was amazeballs. I think his performance was more nuanced than McDormand’s. Some say Christopher Plummer might get it for All the Money; personally, I don’t think Hollywood wants to give him a chance to thank Kevin Spacey for being a creep and giving up the role. It’s gonna be butt clenching enough with the Weinstein-sized elephant in the room.
Best Supporting Actress: Allison Janney, I Tonya (haven’t seen Mudbound). Yeah, I haven’t watched this film, but the buzz cannot be denied. This is so often won by a pretty young thing — this year’s nominees range from 47 (Mary J Blige) to 62 (Laurie Metcalf). Holla! If the night seems extra hot, blame it on some sexy heat flashes! (I can say that because I turn 50 next month. But that’s another blog). So yeah: Janney, a first time acting nominee at this year’s Oscars, is gonna win.
Director: Jordan Peele, Get Out. I’ve seen all of these. I think the fact that Peele was able to take essentially a thriller and make it a movie worthy of the Academy’s biggest nod is amazing. Second choice? Guillermo de Toro for Shape of Water.
Best Picture: Three Billboards. Hands down. It just works on every level. Go see it.
What do I think of the other best pic noms?
Call Me By Your Name: beautiful, poignant, sad and joyful. My fave moment is near the end, when the dad tells his son to feel all his emotions. I wish I was that great a parent.
Darkest Hour: an acting movie. Totally worth seeing, but not a Best Pic.
Dunkirk: intense. As the mom of a sailor, devastating and horrifying and I swear I aged watching those boys die.
Get Out: my husband’s fave — but my son hated it. Weird. I thought it was great, but not a best pic.
Lady Bird: I will be re-watching this one with my daughter. I sobbed. If yo are the mom of a teenage girl, for the love of God watch this with her and keep a handful of tissues handy. Only thing that bugged me was how she disparaged my alma mater, UC Davis. Go Aggies!
Phantom Thread: beautiful, disturbing. Almost threw mushroom omelets on the Gourmet menu for this movie, but just couldn’t. Kind of like why I said no to peaches in honor of Call Me By Your Name.
The Post: I love history pics, and it was great. But it was not a best pic.
The Shape of Water: gorgeous, sad, lovely, sweet. Great story for now and any time. A contender for Best Pic for sure.
Oh? and Phantom Thread should get the Best Costume nod. I mean, it’s a movie about fashion. Duh.
Gotta go: I hear Ryan interviewing folks on the red carpet. See you at the movies!
A little Ado About Everything 