tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73997852889885212752024-03-13T00:37:04.593+00:00This and thatDanièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-54241466457057131332011-05-17T15:00:00.003+01:002011-05-17T23:14:29.121+01:00The Twins, the Queen, and the President, punk week in Dublin<i>For a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, the medicine go down, the medicine go down.</i><br />
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Yes people, Ireland is in all the papers this week for all the right reasons, we are at last experiencing a truely surreal week.<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9z_wgf_BRb8/TdJ9YzaLeNI/AAAAAAAAAeE/w6Bj19Lak6M/s1600/Eurovision-Song-Contest-D-007.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9z_wgf_BRb8/TdJ9YzaLeNI/AAAAAAAAAeE/w6Bj19Lak6M/s400/Eurovision-Song-Contest-D-007.jpeg" width="400" /></a><i>Pretty Vacant</i><br />
Jedward gets 8th place in the Eurovision song contest. YAYAYAYAYAYAYA. Those X factor twins have won the hearts of everyone. For those who never heard of them essential song hereunder.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uWdCfdF4Fqo" width="450"></iframe><br />
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<i>God Save the Queen</i><br />
Queen Elizabeth is visiting Ireland for the very first time ever.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Spj4HU7IwvA/TdJ9x69ziyI/AAAAAAAAAeI/-pZ8pKLZtGw/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Spj4HU7IwvA/TdJ9x69ziyI/AAAAAAAAAeI/-pZ8pKLZtGw/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="400" /></a>Ain't she sweet?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And finally</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>I'm so bored with the USA</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here I have to disagree with The Clash, because look at what the impending arrival of the President of da world (23rd May) is pushing Irish people to... Creativity... Well I never!</div> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WDB9GPbTaXI/TdETh9ppx7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/GxQCmedYw-U/s1600/Photo1463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WDB9GPbTaXI/TdETh9ppx7I/AAAAAAAAAd8/GxQCmedYw-U/s400/Photo1463.jpg" width="300" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You'll find me home, watching the events on TV, or maybe even not watching at all (but I gotta because in her old age, the Queen reminds me of my grandmother, who wasn't a twin, by heck she was presidential AND a real queen).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">:-)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-60800251695584776812011-05-11T23:38:00.000+01:002011-05-11T23:38:12.497+01:00Model behaviour<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poly_Styrene">Poly Styrene</a> (of the band <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/X-Ray_Spex">X Ray Spex</a>), once screamed "<b><i>Some people think little girls should be seen and not heard But I think Oh Bondage Up Yours!</i></b>" I had been looking for an excuse to write about the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comtesse_de_Segur">Comtesse de Ségur </a>for a while, and Poly Styrene's untimely death 2 weeks ago, gave me an idea as to how I should breach this topic, and yesterday's about the Cinderella Making Machine in <a href="http://histoiresdegounjous.wordpress.com/2011/05/09/de-la-machine-a-fabriquer-des-cendrillons/">Gounjous' blog</a>, really gave me the necessary push.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OJMja2jGw6Q/TclSO55UJbI/AAAAAAAAAdA/B9Lu7Fn8qDo/s1600/poly-styrene.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OJMja2jGw6Q/TclSO55UJbI/AAAAAAAAAdA/B9Lu7Fn8qDo/s400/poly-styrene.jpeg" width="323" /></a></div><br />
If you are not familiar with Poly Styrene's work, from this photo you can gather that she was not terribly pretty, nor elegant by TRADITIONAL STANDARDS, nor was she particularly quiet, and yet I think she was undeniably a healthy role model, a bit like Sophie, one of the Comtesse de Ségur's most famous characters, whose misfortunes are told in <i><a href="http://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Les_Malheurs_de_Sophie">Les Malheurs de Sophie</a></i>. And boy, was Sophie, trouble! She was the total nemesis to her exemplary cousins Camille and Madeleine of <i><a href="http://www.inlibroveritas.net/lire/oeuvre2860.html">Les Petites Filles Modèle</a>s</i>.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l8j2DUILk0I/TclSbNj8rvI/AAAAAAAAAds/GBKaLL-pY34/s1600/Les+petites+filles+mode%25CC%2580les.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l8j2DUILk0I/TclSbNj8rvI/AAAAAAAAAds/GBKaLL-pY34/s400/Les+petites+filles+mode%25CC%2580les.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div>Everything Camille and Marguerite did was perfect, they were so obedient that they rarely got spanked, unlike naughty Sophie, who could never do anything right.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wbF-yDc6PcY/TclSZ8vg1VI/AAAAAAAAAdo/dZFJwHkT2Q0/s1600/les_bonheurs_de_sophie.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wbF-yDc6PcY/TclSZ8vg1VI/AAAAAAAAAdo/dZFJwHkT2Q0/s400/les_bonheurs_de_sophie.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Although Sophie got some cool stuff, she was very very bad at keeping it that way, being inclined, as she was, to curiosity, and experimentation... You guessed it nothing ever worked out for her, and it often ended in corporal punishment which was then deemed harsh but fair (however this also turned Ségur into fodder for fetish literature, needless to say).<br />
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As a little girl, it was impossible for me, and for many others, to resist Camille and Marguerite's charm. They were both perfection and inspiration. Check out this extract which remains one of my favourite text ever. It is very difficult to find English translations of La Comtesse de Ségur's books. This is by no means an official translation.<br />
[Camille and Marguerite have just been given a present of an entire painting set (to promote their artistic talents) and a doll complete with a full trousseau (to promote their domestic skills) - Ségur had definite ideas about children's education. This is what the trousseau is made of :<br />
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<i>A round straw hat with a small white feather and ribbons of black velvet coat a blue taffeta with pink pompoms, a green umbrella with an ivory handle, 6 pairs of gloves, 4 pairs of boots, 2 silk scarves ; a sleeve and an ermine cape. </i><br />
<i>In the second drawer: </i><br />
<i>6 shirts day, 6 night shirts, 6 pants, 6 skirts trimmed with scalloped lace, 6 pairs of socks, 6 handkerchiefs, 6 nightcaps, 6 cols, 6 pairs of sticks, 2 corsets, 2 flannel petticoats; 6 towels, 6 sheets, 6 pillow cases; 6 small towels. A bag containing a sponge, a comb, a comb, a brush head, brush comb. </i><br />
<i>In the third drawer were all the dresses and coats and cloaks, and there were: </i><br />
<i>1 dress in merino wool Scotch a poplin dress pink taffeta dress with a black dress with a blue cloth, a white muslin dress, a dress nankeen * 1 dress in black velvet gown with a silk lilac; a gray cloth coat, a black velvet jacket, a black silk Talma *; a dark blue velvet cloak, a mantle of white muslin embroidered</i>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6STGvaqtM4o/TclbDLnYndI/AAAAAAAAAdw/d0DqBEI_iX8/s1600/trousseau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="381" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6STGvaqtM4o/TclbDLnYndI/AAAAAAAAAdw/d0DqBEI_iX8/s400/trousseau.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-phV1utr2PUA/TclbHEMjbTI/AAAAAAAAAd0/-p1NxTGvCrY/s1600/trousseeau+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-phV1utr2PUA/TclbHEMjbTI/AAAAAAAAAd0/-p1NxTGvCrY/s400/trousseeau+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Enough to make any of my vintage blogger friends swoon, never mind a little girl!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zz1o6yZRsDA/TclSPWhEN9I/AAAAAAAAAdE/5iNpeWpPvkY/s1600/97q007cz.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zz1o6yZRsDA/TclSPWhEN9I/AAAAAAAAAdE/5iNpeWpPvkY/s400/97q007cz.jpeg" width="291" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>(Illustration by Bertall)</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>At times, I </i>miss playing with my dolls. Playing with dolls made me full of ambition, I really wanted to sew all the things that were in Marguerite's doll trousseau. Later on, I wanted my Barbie doll to be ever so glamorous at all the cocktail parties she attended with Ken, that I would often sew evening gowns for her, with scraps of material. I would knit jumpers for her evenings of elegant drinking at the ski station bar. I was often disappointed with the result of my effort, but what was worth it was the idea that I could invent any number of outfits, I did not need to be Coco Chanel or Jean Paul Gaultier to dream these up. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">At a later stage, my ambition turned to professional goals for Barbie, who with great cunning skill had managed to infiltrate the archives of the priest who received the confessions of the most dangerous criminals on Earth (yes there was only one of them, and - luckily - he (I that is) kept little Barbie size red-covered diaries of the confessions of the untold monstrosities that had been perpetrated.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Victor Hugo wrote this in Les Misérables (Cosette)</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="font-weight: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"> <span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><i>The doll is one of the most imperious needs and, at the same time, one of the most charming instincts of feminine childhood. To care for, to clothe, to deck, to dress, to undress, to redress, to teach, scold a little, to rock, to dandle, to lull to sleep, to imagine that something is some one,—therein lies the whole woman's future. While dreaming and chattering, making tiny outfits, and baby clothes, while sewing little gowns, and corsages and bodices, the child grows into a young girl, the young girl into a big girl, the big girl into a woman. The first child is the continuation of the last doll.</i></span></span></div><div style="font-weight: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">And if I may go back to the beginning of this article, despite all desires of perfections, at the end of the day its''s the little rebel girl Sophie, who- to many little girls - is more attractive than her perfect cousins, Marguerite and Camille, just like Poly Styrene in all her clumsiness should forever remain endearing to the female and the male of the species. Because Poly Styrene had ambition, she wore lipstick, but too much, and possibly not a very tasteful shade, she wore fishnets, but they had holes in them... you get me. She was a BAD GIRL, a bit like many endearing vamps of old French cinema, for example:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pbi6FUQm_GY/TclSYXRzMvI/AAAAAAAAAdc/OhRhy9uzQJE/s1600/imgres-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pbi6FUQm_GY/TclSYXRzMvI/AAAAAAAAAdc/OhRhy9uzQJE/s400/imgres-5.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ginette Leclerc in <i>Le Corbeau</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QGLY377EQsM/TclSU8dj-UI/AAAAAAAAAdI/0T3EK4tZWYQ/s1600/quai+des+orf.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QGLY377EQsM/TclSU8dj-UI/AAAAAAAAAdI/0T3EK4tZWYQ/s400/quai+des+orf.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Suzy Delair in <i>Quai des Orfèvres</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Bad, bad girls...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">but bully for them! They never lost the "creative freedom" that doll playing gives a little girl, When the doll goes, a new doll is born, she adorns herself in many ways outside and inside, and it is delightful, don't you think?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Who wears Prada? An angel or a demon? Who is to say!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</i></div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-72300096623434883502011-05-08T00:41:00.001+01:002011-05-08T00:42:12.821+01:00Smoking is really bad for you but...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xfPfknoY63k/TcXTFvaQTfI/AAAAAAAAAcw/dHNgEURXi9E/s1600/936full-jeanne-moreau.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xfPfknoY63k/TcXTFvaQTfI/AAAAAAAAAcw/dHNgEURXi9E/s400/936full-jeanne-moreau.jpeg" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>+</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CMVArkMoF60/TcXS21HfgiI/AAAAAAAAAck/YzAw_VdcRyI/s1600/600full-isabelle-huppert.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CMVArkMoF60/TcXS21HfgiI/AAAAAAAAAck/YzAw_VdcRyI/s320/600full-isabelle-huppert.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>+</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xysKhnFsyn0/TcXS4oLdEcI/AAAAAAAAAcs/XkjXoXFm-BM/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xysKhnFsyn0/TcXS4oLdEcI/AAAAAAAAAcs/XkjXoXFm-BM/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="307" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And maybe the worst offender of them all, Mademoiselle Deneuve (yeah her again!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWTUj52S-J8/TcXS4Ox9zKI/AAAAAAAAAco/w7qevkW0zbU/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWTUj52S-J8/TcXS4Ox9zKI/AAAAAAAAAco/w7qevkW0zbU/s400/imgres-1.jpeg" width="309" /></a></div>Yeah, I know, I was tired of being elegant, sexy, mysterious, possibly intellectual, so I stopped...<br />
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But you know what, you can't really smell pictures... last week a customer came to my house, and I knew immediately when I opened the front door that he had just landed on Irish territory from an exotic country such as Belgium or France, because there was a whole aura of brown tobacco cigarette smoke about him. I wish I could say that I could barely see his silhouette amongst the famous blue curls of smoke of this particular brand of poison.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C2gdCICW_rY/TcXXuMvZv2I/AAAAAAAAAc0/YmCVXdcOftU/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C2gdCICW_rY/TcXXuMvZv2I/AAAAAAAAAc0/YmCVXdcOftU/s320/imgres-2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>But that would be a lie..., so instead I leave you with these two inveterate smokers.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/m30O27UBRiM" width="480"></iframe>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-26109485816601678922011-05-01T11:16:00.002+01:002011-05-10T15:55:45.143+01:00Workers and flowersToday in France it is customary to celabrate workers days by going for a picnic in the woods and pick bunches of lily of the valley (<i>muguet</i>) which is meant to be given for luck. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5J0rIzQPXVU/Tb0urAmpebI/AAAAAAAAAbg/U-XcIQrIFV4/s1600/sitdriver.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5J0rIzQPXVU/Tb0urAmpebI/AAAAAAAAAbg/U-XcIQrIFV4/s400/sitdriver.jpeg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.cleomede.com/article-30023998.html">De l'autre côté du miroir.</a> has many more of these retro-cards. Wikipedia also tells me this custom originates from Nantes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h2NEIYuHZw4/Tb0vgkvYXzI/AAAAAAAAAbk/LJ3Mejr3XrI/s1600/Scan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h2NEIYuHZw4/Tb0vgkvYXzI/AAAAAAAAAbk/LJ3Mejr3XrI/s400/Scan.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Perhaps you recognize yours truly from this picture taken a few moons ago.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you can't go to the countryside the <i>muguet </i>comes to you anyway, such is the magic of consumer society! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VwAhXpz_0o8/Tb0xgAyDQHI/AAAAAAAAAbo/pz2T7rMss1Y/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VwAhXpz_0o8/Tb0xgAyDQHI/AAAAAAAAAbo/pz2T7rMss1Y/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Wishing all of you good luck on this 1st May, with song interpreted by none other than Danièle Darrieux, who played the mother in the movie I mentioned in my previous post.</div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/oXpatni7dB4" width="480"></iframe>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-8898251696298519472011-04-29T17:19:00.001+01:002011-04-29T17:22:46.092+01:00Real royaltyCall me lucky or unlucky, but I put on TV this morning just in time to catch the new royals, heading out of Westminster to get back to Buckingham Palace, and lo and behold, didn't Alexander McQueen copy <b><i>MY</i></b> wedding dress? (well my mum's, seeing that I wore hers). But Alex tho, don't you worry, I won't sue for copyright infringement, as we say in French: <i>J'ai d'autres chats à fouetter</i> (I have other cats to whip, really its's not that hard to decipher).<br />
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All this talk of royal wedding for some reason-unknown to myself as per ususal.made me think of Catherine Deneuve, who I think is possibly the closest we French have to royalty. And then one thing leading to another, I was soon reminiscing, as one would, about<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacques_Demy"> Jacques Demy</a>'s <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Young_Girls_of_Rochefort">Les Demoiselles de Rochefort</a>, and the song which is amongst my top ten sing-under the shower, sing-while-you-cook, sing while-you-think, sing while-you-do whatever, in other words La Chanson des Jumelles (video under for those of you who would have the temerity of admitting to not knowing this absolute pillar of French popular culture, and you'd better revise on <i>Harley Davidson </i>by Brigitte Bardot, as this assignment is likely to crop up soon. Soon is the word!)<br />
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If you want royal, this movie is IT. <br />
Royal - The amazing score by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michel_Legrand">Michel Legrand</a><br />
Royal - <b>Catherine Deneuve</b> and sister <b>François Dorléac.</b><br />
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Look how elegant they are. The costumes are so conceptual. They wear the same clothes, but observe the colour coordination and the cut of the dresses with a flare skirt, which instead of slits (too vulgar) have colour panels within the flared skirt. Notice also the bodice shape that follows the body contours, but, no décolletage, and the Ascott-worthy hats.<br />
These girls are perfect women, not only are they beautiful but they are witty, talented, sassy, and both sexy (we are informed of their exploits in one of the songs) and idealistic. They don't care about money, they want to meet their prince charming. Awwww! Fairy tale stuff. Never mind the sailor who knows exactly what the love of his life looks life, although he has not met her yet. Classic!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--mz4_bG07iM/TbratrMtCPI/AAAAAAAAAbU/QcC1rLGfUrU/s1600/soeurss.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--mz4_bG07iM/TbratrMtCPI/AAAAAAAAAbU/QcC1rLGfUrU/s400/soeurss.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Royal - Director <b>Démy</b> for hiring <b>Gene Kelly</b> and <b>George Chakiris</b> for this ambitious French musical. lets not forget that <b>Truffaut</b> and <b>Godard</b> held American cinema as the pinnacle of perfection, and Hollywood has repaid the compliment at times, by doing remakes of French comedies mostly (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dinner_for_Schmucks">Dinner for Smucks</a> being the last example of this phenomenon). Think about it, the achievement was incredible, in fact I think it was more or less unique. Gathering lead American actors to play second fiddle in a French movie. Wow! Plus we knew that Gene Kelly could dance, and sing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-syBvbCokAJ4/TbrarN1_ATI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/u5vQ2ZY23JY/s1600/demoiselles-de-rochefort-1966-10-g.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-syBvbCokAJ4/TbrarN1_ATI/AAAAAAAAAbQ/u5vQ2ZY23JY/s400/demoiselles-de-rochefort-1966-10-g.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div> But who knew that his accent was perfect... maybe even ...Royal!<br />
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I mean really imagine a movie now starring <b>Leonardo De Caprio</b> AND <b>Brad Pit</b>t with say <b>Chiara Mastroianni </b>and <b>Charlotte Gainsbourg</b>, which takes place in the back of beyond! (I think the closest I can think of and that was a few years ago, is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolat_(2000_film)">Chocolat</a> with <b>JohnnyDepp</b> and <b>Juliette Binoche</b>).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y3L4ZskPDgY/TbrawwNSmOI/AAAAAAAAAbY/_dc87TiBfKo/s1600/les-demoiselles-de-rochefort-1967-15137-581997971.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y3L4ZskPDgY/TbrawwNSmOI/AAAAAAAAAbY/_dc87TiBfKo/s400/les-demoiselles-de-rochefort-1967-15137-581997971.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>I mean seriously <b>West Side Story</b>, the royalty of American cinema, brought to small town France, for an equally fairy tale-like (but less Shakesperean) movie.<br />
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So for those of you who don't care too much about the royal wedding today, but wanna stay in regal mood, why not plan a screening of this classic of French cinema. And please check out that impeccable accent!<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9zOr0E7aUVY" width="480"></iframe>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-70523144899259592732011-04-22T16:10:00.003+01:002011-04-23T03:12:57.190+01:00Personal JesusI had all sort of plans for this Easter week, starting from the tradition of Palm Sunday in France<i> Les Rameaux,</i> which was like a little Easter of kinds. My grand mother would adorn a box tree branch (<i>buis</i>) with all sorts of sweets, all kids would walk up to mass <i>buis</i> in hand, and then there was the excruciating wait of looking at this promise of sugar heaven, throughout the whole mass... you see the priest had to bless this <i>buis</i> before you could touch the sweets. And the fact that these sweets had been blessed by the little Jesus by proxy made them all the sweetest.<br />
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For a child churches are weird places, so many statues of the Virgin Mary, and different saints with pathos on their faces which you would be hard pushed to associate with a human being. One of the things that used to fascinate me was the <i>ange-quêteur</i> a bit like this one here.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UVBNoklQU_Q/TbGNy_dOonI/AAAAAAAAAac/v7VYKki0ZxI/s1600/Image+plein-e%25CC%2581cran.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UVBNoklQU_Q/TbGNy_dOonI/AAAAAAAAAac/v7VYKki0ZxI/s320/Image+plein-e%25CC%2581cran.jpeg" width="191" /></a></div>You can see one in action here. I think you may understand the magic of it all for a child.<br />
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Add to this the smell of encense and you can taste the mystery, glory and boredom all at once that was mass for me as child holding my little branch of <i>buis, </i>a week before Easter<i> </i>and waiting and waiting to get back home for the big sugar rush.<br />
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But today of all days is Jesus's day, son of man, son of God. No matter whether you are a believer or no, you have to wonder about what goes on in the mind, heart and soul of one who knows he is condemned, the mental suffering, the moments of doubts, and it is no surprise that visual arts can really help us to grasp this amazing phenomenon which is the passion of Christ.<br />
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My purpose today is to mention a French documentary called <a href="http://www.andanafilms.com/catalogue.php?lang=en&action=setcookie&alpha=&typeAlpha=&rub=&idFiche=1109&display=fiche">First Passion, by Philippe Baron.</a><br />
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This documentary talks about the first feature length feature made about the passion of Christ, <a href="http://www.andanafilms.com/catalogue.php?lang=en&action=setcookie&alpha=&typeAlpha=&rub=&idFiche=1109&display=fiche">From the Manger to the Cross</a>, a movie by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sidney_Olcott">Sidney Olcott</a> shot in 1912 on location in Palestine. The documentary covers a lot of ground going from the extraordinary ambition of this project which aesthetically wanted to replicate the imagery of French painter <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Tissot">James Tissot</a>, to the fact that the nuns of a nearby convent treated the actress playing Mary just as if she was Mary, to the issues that actors who play Jesus face in general after playing such a role on the big screen, the fact that it was the first time that an audience was required not to eat, not talk to one another and generally behave themselves for the duration of the movie, because of the subject matter.<br />
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To give you an idea of the aesthetic aspect of the movie, here are a few of Tissot's religious paintings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y8UG1N9w8qo/TbGTTqnmefI/AAAAAAAAAag/K8j-24wvPq4/s1600/James_Tissot_Jesus_is_betrayed_525.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y8UG1N9w8qo/TbGTTqnmefI/AAAAAAAAAag/K8j-24wvPq4/s400/James_Tissot_Jesus_is_betrayed_525.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y8UG1N9w8qo/TbGTTqnmefI/AAAAAAAAAag/K8j-24wvPq4/s1600/James_Tissot_Jesus_is_betrayed_525.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> Jesus is betrayed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G1qnAj6PwRQ/TbGTdOUoFQI/AAAAAAAAAao/3ljuvK04ThI/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G1qnAj6PwRQ/TbGTdOUoFQI/AAAAAAAAAao/3ljuvK04ThI/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jesus bearing his cross</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oT3ptr_XYOU/TbGTiQfW1eI/AAAAAAAAAas/fSaLFnfhxe4/s1600/FromTheManger.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oT3ptr_XYOU/TbGTiQfW1eI/AAAAAAAAAas/fSaLFnfhxe4/s400/FromTheManger.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Scene from the movie</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t7NcBAwtSEg/TbGTYgZQntI/AAAAAAAAAak/ZOoHAKz3SGY/s1600/Fichier%253AAsseenfromthecross-vi.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t7NcBAwtSEg/TbGTYgZQntI/AAAAAAAAAak/ZOoHAKz3SGY/s400/Fichier%253AAsseenfromthecross-vi.jpeg" width="370" /></a></div>And this extraordinary scene entitled <i>What Jesus saw from the cross</i>, where Jesus doesn't feature physically on this painting, but his presence can not but weigh heavily on the viewer's conscience. This painting in my mind gives the adjective "awesome" its true meaning. If your curiosity is piqued you see <i>From the Manger to the Cross</i> on line <a href="http://stagevu.com/video/wjzsgkxqlzdg">here</a>.<br />
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And before I disappear for a few more days, I want to wish you all a very Happy Easter,<i> Joyeuses Pâques</i>, I hope that the Easter Bunny or <i>Les Cloches de Pâques</i> (depending on which country you live in), don't forget you, and I leave you in the good company of the holiest sinner of rock and roll... Johnny Cash in and his famous rendition of Dépêche Mode's <i>Personal Jesus</i>.<br />
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Chocolate and/or pious thoughts to all.Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-35257948155690618582011-04-12T17:15:00.005+01:002011-04-13T08:07:43.507+01:00Yuri and the girl with the mousy hairIs space the final frontier? In another life I could of course ask Yuri, what a guy, eh! Makes me dream of the days when I used to get into one of these and the world was mine for about 3 minutes. What a thrill, especially when you got to the top!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DjPsloC3UCY/TaRrLwynzZI/AAAAAAAAAaU/IJuMFBM3fcE/s1600/10092009344457256786903.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DjPsloC3UCY/TaRrLwynzZI/AAAAAAAAAaU/IJuMFBM3fcE/s400/10092009344457256786903.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> (Source <a href="http://ducasses-du-nord.e-monsite.com/rubrique,fumseck,1248953.html">Ducasses du Nord for more fun pictures of these)</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was a bit too young when Yuri Gagarin became the first person to enter space, and any way we did not have TV, but I sure did not miss the landing on the moon, AND I am so looking forward to men going to Mars. The suspense is killing me. Will it be the Chinese or the Americans? All I know is that by 2030, guys, we are there! So I really look forward to seeing a rerun of the landing on the moon, but this time on Mars. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Plus seemingly they are using the same capsule design, for ORION, and they will be landing in the desert somewhere. I remember so well when the astronauts would lose contact with NASA once they went through the atmosphere, and then you did not know whether they made it or not, the impending sense of possible tragedy, and the relief to see them come out of the capsule alive.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W_ZJK6TvRso/TaRq-2cHyWI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/mYE8V9D6-h0/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W_ZJK6TvRso/TaRq-2cHyWI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/mYE8V9D6-h0/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Testing, testing, yes we have landing...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then to top it all, I go to my dentist who tells me that in his lifetime (and he 40ish) we will be able to regrow teeth. A true marvel. Hurrah for the human race!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So many questions in my head... when we go to Mars, is there going to be passport controls, who is going to be in charge once there, once we get there, could we actually end up living in space rather than on planets, see we only have been settled for about 1% of our time on this Earth. Wanderers we were before, wanderers we may be once again. If we fuck up too much down here we may just not have the choice anyway. What will be the spaceports like? What will it be called a spaceport, a rocketport, a Marsport? Which kind of money will they operate on Mars....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Meanwhile I love airports, hence all these questions I guess. I love airports and plane journeys, long plane journeys in particular, because you enter in a bubble where time almost stops. Once on the plane they bring you stuff, you can watch movies you would never dream of watching in ordinary circumstances. Airports are modern-day cathedrals, by the sheer scale of them. Airports are intrinsically children of the 1960's, you wont find an "old" airport that looks old, say like Grand Central, or Gare de Lyon. I love discovering new airports. Each airport has a story to tell.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Recently I had to travel to Philadephia via Frankfurt, long story. Philadelphia airport is a rather crummy airport, BUT, they decided that the International Arrivals Hall was possibly the face of Philadelphia and by extension the face of America... so when you get into Philly, this very airy space "The American Dream", designed by <a href="http://www.robfisheramericandream.com/aboutAD.htm">Robert Fisher</a> is there to greet you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KgVgcbOOhaA/TY_C__dp6fI/AAAAAAAAAZc/OIpsBak_xEE/s1600/Photo0983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KgVgcbOOhaA/TY_C__dp6fI/AAAAAAAAAZc/OIpsBak_xEE/s400/Photo0983.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><i> "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." </i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ekw6xs5mFVU/TY_DbNiCR0I/AAAAAAAAAZg/oqyoLuryt7E/s1600/Photo0984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ekw6xs5mFVU/TY_DbNiCR0I/AAAAAAAAAZg/oqyoLuryt7E/s400/Photo0984.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<div align="left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">“Declaration” is a ten-foot high artwork of illuminated glass, creatively divided into thirteen segments representing the original colonies. “This artwork,” says Fisher, "presents an image of the entire Declaration of Independence, enabling a visitor to read its phrases and understand why our country declared itself free." Rendered like parchment, the glass has the text sandblasted into its surface. Fisher chose to produce this aspect of the artwork at Franz Mayer of Munich, Germany, an internationally renowned stained glass atelier. (same souce as above).</span></div><div align="left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">On the other hand, land in Frankfurt, and it is your nose thats get the first whiff of this airport which reeks of cigarette! Yes you read this right cigarettes! <b>YOU CAN SMOKE IN FRANKFURT AIRPORT</b>, I thought for a minute that I was transported back to the 20th century.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5zfcs6J414c/TY_D2fx2BCI/AAAAAAAAAZo/kdGCtHNLV04/s1600/Photo1367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5zfcs6J414c/TY_D2fx2BCI/AAAAAAAAAZo/kdGCtHNLV04/s400/Photo1367.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Look at these people in that little booth, smoking their lungs away, and let me tell you it's not as if these were sufficient to contain the lovely smell of cigarettes. Ah the good old days when I was a smoker!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--NaaOh9AaI0/TY_D5uK2X-I/AAAAAAAAAZs/d6V0dZ4ySzE/s1600/Photo1368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--NaaOh9AaI0/TY_D5uK2X-I/AAAAAAAAAZs/d6V0dZ4ySzE/s400/Photo1368.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>And in case you don't believe me (because it is quite difficult to conceive that you could be allowed smoke in an airport nowadays) here is the monorail platform that says Frankfurt (if you care to read backwards).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--NaaOh9AaI0/TY_D5uK2X-I/AAAAAAAAAZs/d6V0dZ4ySzE/s1600/Photo1368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3kKq07z3AM/TY_Dr_goSHI/AAAAAAAAAZk/d2KJEWbLDvA/s1600/Photo1364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3kKq07z3AM/TY_Dr_goSHI/AAAAAAAAAZk/d2KJEWbLDvA/s400/Photo1364.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Frankfurt airport is a den of sin and turpitudes. The next thing is that you can also gamble there, see below. I was slightly pressed for time, otherwise I had in mind to look for the "SexZentrum"next, just to see if they have one in the airport, you for busy people who don't have time to get to town.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-myz0oI1gjQw/TY_D-uHv_wI/AAAAAAAAAZw/pD-P_LWgXN8/s1600/Photo1369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-myz0oI1gjQw/TY_D-uHv_wI/AAAAAAAAAZw/pD-P_LWgXN8/s400/Photo1369.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Vorsprung Durch Teknik, isn't it what they say?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HTo2Tv_EST8/TaR3jcON9oI/AAAAAAAAAaY/3vP6DX3yUrk/s1600/DublinAirportTerminal2Story.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HTo2Tv_EST8/TaR3jcON9oI/AAAAAAAAAaY/3vP6DX3yUrk/s400/DublinAirportTerminal2Story.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Back home in Dublin, I had the pleasure to discover Dublin new Terminal 2. Oh wait, its not me! Anyway it is "boooootiful", but it also deserves a whole post to itself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YucQj60Pc_w/TY_EJPIQ3VI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/VaLNomwETx4/s1600/Photo1414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YucQj60Pc_w/TY_EJPIQ3VI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/VaLNomwETx4/s400/Photo1414.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And to celebrate Yuri's day, and the likelihood of man/woman going to Mars, there was only one song, and one song only....<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/v--IqqusnNQ?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-61685683514961405962011-03-30T12:00:00.003+01:002011-03-30T12:04:08.358+01:00InterludeA long, long time ago, back in the 20th century, when there was dead space on French TV, they would stick this video clip for you to patiently wait until programmes resumed.<br />
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Unfortunately I dont have this type of means to distract you, while you wait. I had all sorts of ambitions of writing about the glory of airports, and how great my dentist is. Hold your thoughts for just a little while, because I am just too busy to do anything about this this week. Meanwhile, of course, nothing prevents you from thinking ahead about said themes, I repeat once again - "airports" "dentist" in case you wanna leave a comment then.<br />
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So for your musical interlude today I thought I would give you a choice.<br />
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If you wanna be cheered up watch this one:<br />
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If you are too cheerful (stop the weed, man!), you might want to listen to Damia who really deserves a whole post, and will definitely put a downer to your day.<br />
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But hey, have a great day!Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-56413011185617036992011-03-26T17:04:00.002+00:002011-03-26T20:43:09.836+00:00Boredom, chicks, and more chicksThis one may be a tough one to pull... One of my favourite blogs is written by <a href="http://stationaryexplorer.blogspot.com/">The Stationary Explorer</a>, he loves to dwell on past experiences, and a couple of entries ago he reminded me of how in my youth I spent much time being bored.<br />
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I think I was bored mostly because I did not have any siblings yet, and was brought up mostly by my grand-parents whilst my mom and dad were busy having a divorce... please no tears I survived.<br />
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Some of the most boring times I would spend was when I had to sit waiting for my grand-mother to do her job. She was then a maid for a busy couple who had no kids but had a fancy hairdressing salon right on the grand-rue in Château-Chinon. Madame Rafattin had a poodle, Monsieur Rafattin was impeccable in every way, very like Mary Poppins. They WERE a funny couple, they insisted on saying "vous" to each other.<br />
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Monsieur and Madame Rafattin were always very proud of their shop window. They really made an effort. They had themes, and the windows of their hair salon would always be dressed with the most beautiful shiny material of pastel blues and pinks, delicate musical boxes. amidst pictures of beautiful women sporting the hair cuts of the day, and of course a few vials of hair elixirs. They had a proper Christmas window, but the real treat was their Easter window. They would have a lamp heated corner where eggs lay just a couple weeks before Easter, and sure enough they would hatch and out of the shells would come a colony of coloured chicks like these, which would animate the shop window for a few days, the time their feathers went back to yellow.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-q0DI22gXPLc/TY22kJvwnOI/AAAAAAAAAZM/neof6pUmcM0/s1600/ogm+%253F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-q0DI22gXPLc/TY22kJvwnOI/AAAAAAAAAZM/neof6pUmcM0/s320/ogm+%253F.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>What happened to the chicks once they had done they were done being cute, the story doesnt tell.<br />
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But out of that time spent sitting at the kitchen table waiting for my grand-mother to be finished doing whatever task there was to do that day, laundry, cooking, ironing, etc, came many moments spent floating in the half conscious boredom. This couple had a television and as a treat I would be allowed to watch the children's broadcast on Thursday afternoon. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belle_et_S%C3%A9bastien">"Belle et Sébastien"</a> was on. It is then at the tender age of 7 that I fell in love for the first time with Medhi<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ytJZxyCWkjU/TY22fWPsz5I/AAAAAAAAAY4/OlHZVoDzLfE/s1600/18788218.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ytJZxyCWkjU/TY22fWPsz5I/AAAAAAAAAY4/OlHZVoDzLfE/s400/18788218.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>And when I wasnt thinking about Medhi, I would browse through the pile of old magazines that were no longer in use in the salon. These would be mostly <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jours_de_France">"Jours de France"</a>, a kind of 1960's celebrity magazine. Like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Petty">George Petty</a> was to Life magazine, so was<a href="http://kiraz-artworks.com/fr/menu.html"> Kiraz </a>for Jours de France. I just loved his portrayal of the "Parisiennes", and his funny captions<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-NIY48LBBht4/TY22h0o3eRI/AAAAAAAAAZA/NNw9CvgLiGM/s1600/kiraz-article.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-NIY48LBBht4/TY22h0o3eRI/AAAAAAAAAZA/NNw9CvgLiGM/s640/kiraz-article.gif" width="494" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-NIY48LBBht4/TY22h0o3eRI/AAAAAAAAAZA/NNw9CvgLiGM/s1600/kiraz-article.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><i>"He let me down crually, after he gave me a taste for luxury"</i></div>These girls were elegant, sexy, everything a little girl would dream of being later on. Looking at these pictures in this very respectable magazine had something of the forbidden about it, as I guess at the time these were a tad daring, and possibly titillating. These girls made you think of what you might want to be later in life.<br />
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At the time one of the most glamorous professions for women was to be a stewardess. They were modern women, the new sailors... possibly with a man in every airport waiting for them, goddesses who spoke several languages, and flew to unheard places on Earth. They were always immaculately dressed, and put together. Not every one could be an air hostess, that much every little girl knew. You had to have model like proportions, hence joining the air hostess corps was a ticket to being part of the new female aristocracy.<br />
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Mireille Darc, the actress, was the embodiment of the perfect air hostess.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-i2lAEpuiIks/TY22hHtwl7I/AAAAAAAAAY8/dTWGCOCRrEs/s1600/grand-blond-avec-une-cha-ii05-g.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-i2lAEpuiIks/TY22hHtwl7I/AAAAAAAAAY8/dTWGCOCRrEs/s400/grand-blond-avec-une-cha-ii05-g.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>I don't think she ever played the part of one, but original illustrator of the comics series <a href="http://www.natacha-comics.com/">Natacha</a>, François<br />
Walthéry, was inspired by Mireille Darc's physique to create his heroin (if you want my opinion, she rather looks like <a href="http://www.google.com/images?hl=en&sugexp=ldymls&pq=falbala+astererix&xhr=t&q=falbala+asterix&cp=12&qe=RmFsYmFsYSBhc3Rlcml4&qesig=uQ7DVU05wXco2a4f1o3D3w&pkc=AFgZ2tnNiVnNYWiC2THgcF7ysYEAJNr9LIytjYVC1fTScKFMqeDybU6zdjzI0k91dznblHFsrQJEPEP3NsoOCK_dlMuKGE3yYg&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&bs=1&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&sa=X&ei=8RuOTeEHwsbiBr3ntI4M&sqi=2&ved=0CDMQsAQ&biw=1248&bih=878">Falbala</a> (on the right), from the Astérix series (another great pin-up).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-W7wf6d3VQlw/TY4au_B_PII/AAAAAAAAAZQ/85FmhqLvJko/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-W7wf6d3VQlw/TY4au_B_PII/AAAAAAAAAZQ/85FmhqLvJko/s200/imgres.jpeg" width="167" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1B9pNwHpijw/TY22i2bO14I/AAAAAAAAAZI/vhGhADv1hcU/s1600/natacha.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1B9pNwHpijw/TY22i2bO14I/AAAAAAAAAZI/vhGhADv1hcU/s400/natacha.jpeg" width="348" /></a></div>I am quite sure you all recognize the infamous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmanuelle_(film)">Emmanuelle</a> chair in the above cover.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1wtkaU6cq90/TY22iSMcpsI/AAAAAAAAAZE/EHBIqQ1PrNw/s1600/Natacha-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1wtkaU6cq90/TY22iSMcpsI/AAAAAAAAAZE/EHBIqQ1PrNw/s400/Natacha-1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Ain't she sweet... see what idleness and boredom lead to when you are a little girl???<br />
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At least, I wasn't alone in my dreams, here is Jacques Dutronc singing about his dream.... which was to be an air hostess.. I wonder if he spent much time as child being bored....<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qMiyxY7H2mY?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-53085791700238901222011-03-17T18:24:00.004+00:002011-03-17T18:29:14.137+00:00De rigueur....Sending you all lots of good luck from Ireland.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TnSJL3NPXtE/TYJRp9gzbTI/AAAAAAAAAYs/oqA79BwP1MQ/s1600/2302199352_604aaf5572.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TnSJL3NPXtE/TYJRp9gzbTI/AAAAAAAAAYs/oqA79BwP1MQ/s400/2302199352_604aaf5572.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And lots of "mulla" too, where is that darn pot of gold??? I don't see any rainbow. Do you?</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-30136059254155882722011-03-12T12:11:00.010+00:002011-03-12T14:12:23.772+00:00When women did not work...I don't know about you but I have a memory issue. People talk of a time "when women did not work..." Well my amnesia seems to get in the way of that statement, for when was that exactly? Who were these women?<br />
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Oh wait, I have a few of them in my family. Yep, these gals never lifted a finger...<br />
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Meet Marie Louise Lemaître, my great-grand mother. See the kid on her lap? Not hers. No sirreee. She had so much time on her hands. Minding 4 kids of her own was not enough for her, in her spare time she would sew up a storm, and also go off to Paris because dontcha know that wet nurses from the Morvan were the best evah!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MyCzWJrKdq0/TV1fo9oaQyI/AAAAAAAAAYY/Z2tFBg9gaqE/s1600/Scan.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MyCzWJrKdq0/TV1fo9oaQyI/AAAAAAAAAYY/Z2tFBg9gaqE/s400/Scan.jpeg" width="285" /></a></div>But wait... See this lazy-bones on the left with the dark hair and the stark look her eyes, and the flower in her hair?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PLWQKbpEQS0/TV1e35ox9pI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Ft--2zldoEY/s1600/000_1373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-PLWQKbpEQS0/TV1e35ox9pI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Ft--2zldoEY/s400/000_1373.JPG" width="301" /></a></div>Who do you think she was fooling? A hippy I tell ya. Suzanne (my grand-mother) had so much leisure time that by age 5, with her little hands she was already embroidering handkerchiefs. They do say that you turn into your parents don't they? And yes Suzanne would partake in Marie-Louise sewing activities from a very early age. Child labour?... Never :-)<br />
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Then of course came Marie-Thérèse Houschmitt, the girl with the glasses.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sw1qEtyhZmI/TV1fYavwmXI/AAAAAAAAAYA/nJvgSBlDBrs/s1600/P1010507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sw1qEtyhZmI/TV1fYavwmXI/AAAAAAAAAYA/nJvgSBlDBrs/s400/P1010507.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Could she be working? Nah, she is just helping her friends with some prototype of a blog 50 odd years ago. My mom never worked, no she just left school at 16 and embarked on a number of wild adventures at various locations - townhalls, printers presses, pretending to teach people how to type, but she was really using the Lee Strasberg method of acting strategy to get her big role in Hollywood.<br />
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Then of course came me, the bundle under Marie-Thérèse's arm. I too had acting ambitions... I was auditioning for the part of the laundry bundle.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7qwQ5MDTQsg/TV1fEvpckCI/AAAAAAAAAX4/pF04Gook9rc/s1600/P1010447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7qwQ5MDTQsg/TV1fEvpckCI/AAAAAAAAAX4/pF04Gook9rc/s320/P1010447.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>But I ended up with being a translator which - as we know- isnt really a job, I mean if it were a real job, I would make a decent living out of it, and besides how could I spend so much time blogging???? You tell me!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cyIiu1NZVTI/TV1fp7zMjKI/AAAAAAAAAYc/w9DS-SMsdug/s1600/snow-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cyIiu1NZVTI/TV1fp7zMjKI/AAAAAAAAAYc/w9DS-SMsdug/s400/snow-1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>I don't think the next generation of women will work either by the way. See this ? Do you think Maïté Moloney (my daughter) has any intention of working ever? She says she wants to be a "psychologist". A whah????<br />
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<span id="goog_1845371643"></span><span id="goog_1845371644"></span>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-38004043645848602012011-02-13T18:10:00.003+00:002011-02-14T16:32:11.598+00:00Love in the North<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a follow up to Raymond Peynet's ethereal vision of love, and not to forget the wind of love that blows over the world for a couple days.... I felt it was only fair to also pay tribute to another famous French illustrator, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francisque_Poulbot">Francisque Poulbot</a>, and his eponymous creations. A "<i>Poulbot</i>" is a picture of a typical "<i>titi parisien</i>", in other words a street kid from Paris, and since the Loire pretty much divides France between North and South, Paris, for all intents and purposes, is considered to be in the northern part of France. ( I am soo tempted to say "<i>le NOOOORRRR</i>" like Michel Galabru says in<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1064932/"> Bienvenue Chez les Ch'tis</a>, but that would be a diversion from the topic at hand.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tXcIJAz-_Bo/TVW-tNGauMI/AAAAAAAAAXk/q1mDNEAAkOg/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tXcIJAz-_Bo/TVW-tNGauMI/AAAAAAAAAXk/q1mDNEAAkOg/s400/imgres-1.jpeg" width="280" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">In his paintings, his "<i>titis</i>" are always centre stage, but Paris is also strongly present. You often see reminders of the setting, the Eiffel Tower (above) ...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gmAf8ppyfm8/TVW-t4JdfQI/AAAAAAAAAXo/ebGmLtmDEbk/s1600/poulbot+.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gmAf8ppyfm8/TVW-t4JdfQI/AAAAAAAAAXo/ebGmLtmDEbk/s400/poulbot+.jpeg" width="278" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Notre-Dame...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cUyOsUoNTmM/TVW8TSuT0rI/AAAAAAAAAXU/yQtEYVkGJVY/s1600/POULBOT+DUO.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cUyOsUoNTmM/TVW8TSuT0rI/AAAAAAAAAXU/yQtEYVkGJVY/s400/POULBOT+DUO.jpeg" width="280" /></a></div>The Arc de Triomphe.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oNQDpGUj6pI/TVW8XLuZELI/AAAAAAAAAXg/vqWS6xrx5fg/s1600/w53jg5e6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oNQDpGUj6pI/TVW8XLuZELI/AAAAAAAAAXg/vqWS6xrx5fg/s400/w53jg5e6.jpeg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Pont Neuf</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FbKMMd3iz0k/TVW8PTcBUrI/AAAAAAAAAXE/IPZD88EZ3j4/s1600/imgres-12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FbKMMd3iz0k/TVW8PTcBUrI/AAAAAAAAAXE/IPZD88EZ3j4/s400/imgres-12.jpeg" width="289" /></a></div>Interesting how bridges and benches seem to be part of lovers-lore. Why is this? Is it their hormonal "in-love"state of mind which allows them to be the only people on Earth who have time to sit down, and watch the world go by?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iAi4_GJ8lSA/TVW8PJ4UraI/AAAAAAAAAXA/CjrwL7oFeEg/s1600/imgres-11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iAi4_GJ8lSA/TVW8PJ4UraI/AAAAAAAAAXA/CjrwL7oFeEg/s400/imgres-11.jpeg" width="274" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Interesting also how these kids, with distinctively young faces - these are not adolescents - seem to be involved with one another, in a very tender relationship. Where Peynet's pen is light and elegant, Poulbot's brush is loud and somewhat garish. <i>Poulbots</i> are not considered high art in France. There is something very kitch, and bad taste in a way, but also very tramp-like, Chaplin-esque about these,. This might explain why I am so fond of them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Real life Poulbots? Hell yes, larger than life even!... Edith Piaf, a kid from the street, singing a very sad love song in English here...</div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Puq-HecW2Es?fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
And Renaud, who single-handedly put Parisian slang back on the cultural map, merci Renaud.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L9nliELzH64" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Spécial <a href="http://genuinediary.wordpress.com/">Paulinette</a> :-), my favourite blog-writer, in the whole world.</div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6yky9ZHmMA0" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yours truly</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4f6S1LXbcek/TVW8OnBMC7I/AAAAAAAAAW8/-iOhJMY-d9M/s1600/imgres-10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4f6S1LXbcek/TVW8OnBMC7I/AAAAAAAAAW8/-iOhJMY-d9M/s200/imgres-10.jpeg" width="126" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-45138979920232351952011-02-11T16:17:00.005+00:002011-02-11T22:45:10.114+00:00Love in the South<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">February is the month of love, right? What with Valentine's Day and all that, and I have to thank <a href="http://fasterkittykill.blogspot.com/">Pam</a> (your embroidery patterns are just darn cute) for reminding me of this otherwise honestly, it would have slipped my mind that this fatal date was soon approaching. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A day, which before the martyrdom of no less than 3 Valentines, goes seemingly back to Ancient Rome <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lupercalia">lupercalia</a> (like we care.... but this way we'll look as if we know something, thank you Messieurs Wales and Sanger).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In France, there are few artists who are as closely linked to St Valentine's Day, love, and Cupid as <a href="http://www.peynet.net/index-en.htm">Raymond Peynet</a>.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ_dpwG7YXU/TVUcmxDchKI/AAAAAAAAAWI/7zDDsu6XmtE/s1600/imgres-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QQ_dpwG7YXU/TVUcmxDchKI/AAAAAAAAAWI/7zDDsu6XmtE/s400/imgres-4.jpeg" width="242" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The girl and boy in his paintings are a representation of him the poet (which you may recognize because he wear an artist's hat), and her, his muse/sweetheart.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4zvJlWOty7U/TVUckcyUeKI/AAAAAAAAAV0/ZAeWJfMAayc/s1600/719cc6a5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4zvJlWOty7U/TVUckcyUeKI/AAAAAAAAAV0/ZAeWJfMAayc/s400/719cc6a5.jpeg" width="355" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the picture two down you see a representation of a kiosk, which is where is is meant to have met his wife, in Valence, in the <b>South of France</b>. It now is called "Le kiosque Peynet".</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A76_LFIRA6A/TVVb5qhEvtI/AAAAAAAAAW0/A_cKLhqq9dw/s1600/Fichier-Kiosque_2004-09-18_009.jpeg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A76_LFIRA6A/TVVb5qhEvtI/AAAAAAAAAW0/A_cKLhqq9dw/s1600/Fichier-Kiosque_2004-09-18_009.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDP4c7SrodM/TVUck2JiOOI/AAAAAAAAAV4/NzwJjzUT_28/s1600/Amoureux+de+Peynet.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDP4c7SrodM/TVUck2JiOOI/AAAAAAAAAV4/NzwJjzUT_28/s400/Amoureux+de+Peynet.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here it is again in the background!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eG-L3hA-NgU/TVUcq8TjktI/AAAAAAAAAWo/P7CZPd7y_vw/s1600/peynet-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eG-L3hA-NgU/TVUcq8TjktI/AAAAAAAAAWo/P7CZPd7y_vw/s400/peynet-2.jpeg" width="306" /></a></div>And look how sheltered and happy these 2 are.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PSC8hyTQICY/TVUcmHKg6KI/AAAAAAAAAWA/qUVChQDvEwc/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PSC8hyTQICY/TVUcmHKg6KI/AAAAAAAAAWA/qUVChQDvEwc/s400/imgres-1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Birds are the messengers of love, right? I wonder what they are doing in her petticoat here??? Oh Monsieur Peynet, you are a little too suggestive here, for someone as romantic as you!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JOffFXu7Ows/TVUcmYWtowI/AAAAAAAAAWE/rbRGsLt1VFg/s1600/imgres-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JOffFXu7Ows/TVUcmYWtowI/AAAAAAAAAWE/rbRGsLt1VFg/s400/imgres-3.jpeg" width="325" /></a></div>Holey Molley or rather Lovey... dovey!!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a_1ThNOx4N0/TVUcqGe1SGI/AAAAAAAAAWk/d15oXIi0yXM/s1600/peynet-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a_1ThNOx4N0/TVUcqGe1SGI/AAAAAAAAAWk/d15oXIi0yXM/s400/peynet-1.jpeg" width="287" /></a></div>The "Peynet lovers" became so popular in France in the 1950's and 60's that the big wheels of commerce had to have a bite of the lion's share. Yes they made them into dolls, which I am quite certain you can now purchase for a few hundred euros each on ebay.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oPhp7iuGEqs/TVUcoaycImI/AAAAAAAAAWY/7mGWNPJDwtE/s1600/imgres-9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oPhp7iuGEqs/TVUcoaycImI/AAAAAAAAAWY/7mGWNPJDwtE/s400/imgres-9.jpeg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In 1985, the French government thought it would be a good idea to pay tribute to Peynet with this special edition stamp for Valentines Days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rTkrQJ-2ks4/TVUcpOTdhtI/AAAAAAAAAWg/tr2Ww0eTEf8/s1600/PEINET-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rTkrQJ-2ks4/TVUcpOTdhtI/AAAAAAAAAWg/tr2Ww0eTEf8/s400/PEINET-1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Finally, look how blissfully happy they are... in a world of their own, at one with nature. Rather ethereal, but also sitting on a bench, because people who are in love, have time to sit on benches, it is a well know fact.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-14KVymeY8eQ/TVUcrOZe-NI/AAAAAAAAAWs/LpETflOvs7E/s1600/peynet.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-14KVymeY8eQ/TVUcrOZe-NI/AAAAAAAAAWs/LpETflOvs7E/s400/peynet.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>So much so, that George Brassens decided to tell the story of these lovers sitting on public park benches throughout the whole world.<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ULQEPo1xbRM?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>.<br />
Love in the North coming soon. ... Meanwhile be wise, don't forget that love is in the heart and not in purses or wallets.<br />
<br />
Yours truly.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_njsJER4e0c/TVVf_fGI3hI/AAAAAAAAAW4/6jEZya0g8RA/s1600/%2528JPG%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_njsJER4e0c/TVVf_fGI3hI/AAAAAAAAAW4/6jEZya0g8RA/s200/%2528JPG%2529.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-24408953647640139782011-02-05T11:46:00.003+00:002011-02-05T11:55:12.461+00:00What could I tell you?<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I could tell you about the great perversity of movies such as <b>Bluebeard's Eight Wife (1938) </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TU0zFXTSYVI/AAAAAAAAAVA/QYw8VWd3iMY/s1600/imgres-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TU0zFXTSYVI/AAAAAAAAAVA/QYw8VWd3iMY/s400/imgres-3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">or <b>Myra Beckinridge (1970)</b>....</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TU0zHe64RII/AAAAAAAAAVE/Bfa9kHR9EpM/s1600/myra+breckenridge+sexy+cowgirl+costume.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TU0zHe64RII/AAAAAAAAAVE/Bfa9kHR9EpM/s400/myra+breckenridge+sexy+cowgirl+costume.jpeg" width="247" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I could tell you about series 4 of <b>The Mary Tyler Moore Show</b>, or season 2 of <b>I Love Lucy</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I could tell you about the new Mary Poppins scarf I just knitted</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I could tell you about my great Tango/Rumba teacher <a href="http://www.rumbaireland.com/about-carolina.html">Carolina Santana</a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I could tell you about how the individual is being swallowed by the man...yeah, mon! But good ol' Pete says it better than me (that's for you Paulinette :-).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/MnGzl-OEyGE" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
But why bother about this when I could tell you of the wonders of my job (innocently batting eyelids to my invisible readers) and working for the global dollar and how I just love being watched over by Big Brother for every single minute of my working life for just above minimum wage. But hey, happy happy happy it's a job! Rare thing these days.<br />
<br />
So ... </div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TnfKmNRfLYU" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
Yours truly...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TU04ir9jnNI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Uz-xTxk3kCc/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TU04ir9jnNI/AAAAAAAAAVI/Uz-xTxk3kCc/s200/imgres-1.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-9572076620188729142011-01-26T13:30:00.007+00:002011-01-27T14:27:08.280+00:00This little Dany went to the market...<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; widows: 2;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.4cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">It's that simple... People need stuff, people want stuff, people love stuff. So where do they get that stuff?</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.4cm; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">In the modern world, we’re well accustomed to supermarkets with their serried ranks of stuff and shopping malls full of stuff. People elbowing each other, their trolleys bulldozing all sorts of stuff, among these purveyors of all the stuff you could wish for. Somehow, shopping never was my cup of tea, but I'll make a proviso because in this world a little too tedious where shopping online has become more exciting than going out to the store, one old-time tradition, that of the farmers or flea markets is one that survived, and is still alive and kicking.</span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><div style="line-height: 0.4cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9ud0GVCKI/AAAAAAAAAUU/Rn2Wp0FfGmI/s1600/La+foire+ou+le+marche.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9ud0GVCKI/AAAAAAAAAUU/Rn2Wp0FfGmI/s400/La+foire+ou+le+marche.jpeg" width="400" /></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9ud0GVCKI/AAAAAAAAAUU/Rn2Wp0FfGmI/s1600/La+foire+ou+le+marche.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="clear: left; color: #666666; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">This picture is in fact an old school poster which as children we were encouraged to talk and write about. Imagine the wealth of vocabulary and stories such a picture may elicit. And is it really any different from this painting of a long forgotten time?</span></a></span></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9vwhIPptI/AAAAAAAAAUY/Rn2BhL1dgCE/s1600/060.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9vwhIPptI/AAAAAAAAAUY/Rn2BhL1dgCE/s400/060.jpeg" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; line-height: 16px;">A market is a magical place to go to because there you can get stuff cannot be got readily off the shelf 24/7, you have to wait for market day. It is magical because, like Ali Baba, you are in awe and don't know for sure what stuff you will find there. It is magical because whether in Istanbul or in Avignon, the market is by nature colourful and anarchic and visceral. It is universal.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9zSc27hiI/AAAAAAAAAUc/bOY0zz9i_Z0/s1600/kapalicarsi_grand_bazaar_istanbul-27.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9zSc27hiI/AAAAAAAAAUc/bOY0zz9i_Z0/s400/kapalicarsi_grand_bazaar_istanbul-27.jpeg" width="267" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px;"><b>Bazar in Istanbul</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9zkBGxP_I/AAAAAAAAAUg/UG6l5Ty2Ulw/s1600/bif8u7c9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="335" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TT9zkBGxP_I/AAAAAAAAAUg/UG6l5Ty2Ulw/s400/bif8u7c9.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px;"><b>Marché de Provence</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px;"><b></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; line-height: 16px;">It is magical because it is the essence of civilisation. In the beginning there was barter, and in the end there may just be barter. In the 2010 British movie <i>Shank</i>, in a post apocalyptic London, the fish market in the East End is the first place where links can be re-established between people. My point is that the wheel of history and the wheels of commerce travel hand in hand and weird ways. In the kingdom of modern business that us a continent where "historical buildings" date back 250 years at most, there is a place in Pennsylvania which has very little to do with the Modern World, and everything to do with the Old World. For the ultimate thrill of a medieval-like market experience, there is no place like the <a href="http://www.saturdaysmarket.com/article.aspx">Saturday's market</a>.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy4cW50uI/AAAAAAAAATQ/WbBf8ITUFsw/s1600/Photo0991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy4cW50uI/AAAAAAAAATQ/WbBf8ITUFsw/s400/Photo0991.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>And no you won't find your knight in shining armour there, although you might who knows, but you will a whole array of people of all ages and colours, of all means, of all trades, of all interests, bikers, and truckers alike.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy48-I6_I/AAAAAAAAATU/8mEtNhf2_4c/s1600/Photo0992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy48-I6_I/AAAAAAAAATU/8mEtNhf2_4c/s400/Photo0992.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The architecture of the building dates back to the late 1950's, and I think there was a bit of vision in this building which occupies the size of nearly 2 football pitches. The entrance above is so kitsch, and reminds my of 1950's airport lounges. The behind the panes there are eateries and seats where people can sit and watch the car go by and park as if they were planes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy5bjareI/AAAAAAAAATY/VcUwlssOuEg/s1600/Photo0993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy5bjareI/AAAAAAAAATY/VcUwlssOuEg/s400/Photo0993.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>In a medieval town, a market was never far from a church, and although in this market there is no church, make no mistake, God is still watching you!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy6g6Z_jI/AAAAAAAAATg/T43nfdxxld4/s1600/Photo1000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy6g6Z_jI/AAAAAAAAATg/T43nfdxxld4/s400/Photo1000.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>This guy sells possibly the best sweet italian sausage in the whole of PA.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy7URfZqI/AAAAAAAAATk/2jjpzoucHhY/s1600/Photo1001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy7URfZqI/AAAAAAAAATk/2jjpzoucHhY/s400/Photo1001.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Many stalls are Amish stalls of all types, but the bakery ones are the most impressive, there they are with they propane propelled food mixers. I wish I could have taken a closer picture but I am aware that Amish people do not care to have their picture taken.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy8Fz-4eI/AAAAAAAAATo/h9H1hRE3lic/s1600/Photo1002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy8Fz-4eI/AAAAAAAAATo/h9H1hRE3lic/s400/Photo1002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Now look at this stand above, is this good junk or what. That guy has amazing vintage wooden sleigh for between 10 and 20 bucks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy8ymVTDI/AAAAAAAAATs/7dEcVgtZN5k/s1600/Photo1004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy8ymVTDI/AAAAAAAAATs/7dEcVgtZN5k/s400/Photo1004.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>And hidden amongst his pots and pans, look closely, yes thre is a human in there... here is "ma main man" junkyard Billy, whose real name I know not, but who cares he is my friend. Everytime I buy something of him he gives me somtehing else for free.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy9XUY7dI/AAAAAAAAATw/s8XADP9QOLg/s1600/Photo1015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy9XUY7dI/AAAAAAAAATw/s8XADP9QOLg/s400/Photo1015.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Healthy.....<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy-KgG8-I/AAAAAAAAAT0/pB0Q9RjvKGw/s1600/Photo1016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy-KgG8-I/AAAAAAAAAT0/pB0Q9RjvKGw/s400/Photo1016.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Not so healthy.... and yes you can also eat in one of the many eateries that serve every kind of ffod from plain old burgers, and pizzas to Amish and Korean food, and home made sherbet flavoured fudge.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy-9fB2LI/AAAAAAAAAT4/qz-eFGgByQM/s1600/Photo1017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy-9fB2LI/AAAAAAAAAT4/qz-eFGgByQM/s400/Photo1017.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Above is the most bizarre stall. A stall that sells hundreds and hundreds of dolls clothes for dolls of all shapes and sizes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy_RIBfvI/AAAAAAAAAT8/7Cawuse5qeg/s1600/Photo1020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxy_RIBfvI/AAAAAAAAAT8/7Cawuse5qeg/s400/Photo1020.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>This market is also a treasure trove for Pyrex lovers, I got some absolute bargains there.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxzANDkZcI/AAAAAAAAAUA/cmdWY6LeoRE/s1600/Photo1033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxzANDkZcI/AAAAAAAAAUA/cmdWY6LeoRE/s400/Photo1033.jpg" width="357" /></a></div>Lastly, here is Sherry stall. She will engage in conversation whether you are a buyer or not. She is an inveterate collector, and now has too much stuff so she decided to sell a lot of it. And her stuff is AMAZING. For my next trip I already know that I will purchase a 1950's hot pink and turquoise melamine complete picnic set. Plus, I made friends with her, and I now go to zumba classes with her and her friends whenever I am in PA.<br />
<br />
I can lose myself in there, it is so easy to just look around action figures, the comic books knives, coffee, knick-knacks, books, old copies of Life magazine with their George Petty pin-up illustrations, homemade kimchi, furniture, socks, rugs, wool, glassware, the JR Watkins vendor who sells all of the old Watkins products, like the Old Black Drawing Salve, the menthol ointment for colds, Watkins vanilla cinnamon, black pepper.....<br />
<br />
The only place that near this experience is buried in my memory, and in my youth. Once upon a time, at a cross road on the D23 in the heart of Burgundy, there was a guy. His house was his kingdom, a veritable Ali Baba cave. And he DID have everything you could wish for. No one will ever know how all that stuff - sausages, ribbons, jams, postcards, rolls of fabric, goats cheese, you name it - found its way to "Les Grands Magasins" du Puits (Le Puits' General store, see location picture below).... Mind you his shop WAS at a cross roads...Need I say more?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxzKzVKp1I/AAAAAAAAAUI/dUWiGSUIZc4/s1600/Le+Puits+a%25CC%2580+Villapourc%25CC%25A7on.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTxzKzVKp1I/AAAAAAAAAUI/dUWiGSUIZc4/s400/Le+Puits+a%25CC%2580+Villapourc%25CC%25A7on.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 32px;"><br />
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</span>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-84471240387725855342011-01-17T02:04:00.004+00:002011-01-17T15:20:08.793+00:00Recipes ARE so annoyingYes that's right, you read the title correctly recipes ARE just a nuisance. And I know, it's rich coming from a French person for whom cooking is meant to be second nature. But boy oh boy, who wants to follow recipes? Seriously...<br />
<br />
There is something very wrong with the concept of the 'art of cooking'. When did you last see a 'paint by numbers' Monet book, to make you believe that you too can paint like the great painter, the way cookery books are flaunted at us?<br />
<br />
When did Picasso ever go to great lengths to tantalize me-simple mortal soul- into thinking that I too could be an artist, if I just bought the 'right' paint, the way some well-meaning TV chef insists that, if you buy the right organic ingredients your dish will be just as yummy as this artistically dressed squash soup?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTOY9E3ki9I/AAAAAAAAATI/Q8PMNzS9CjE/s1600/veloute_de_potiron_a_la_forezienne-152f3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TTOY9E3ki9I/AAAAAAAAATI/Q8PMNzS9CjE/s320/veloute_de_potiron_a_la_forezienne-152f3.jpeg" width="320" /></a> </div>Enough of the propaganda already! Yeah cooking is a form of art supposedly, well Julia Child thought that French cooking was anyway. Can you imagine the pressure for me to produce something, anything?!<br />
<br />
And even if per chance, I actually get it together to gather all the necessary ingredients, potions, spices, produce, bouillons, and so on ... then what do I do, huh? I read the darn book, stain the beautiful pictures which henceforth will forever be stuck together... then you have to convert your ounces into grammes, you milliters into fluid ounces, your Farhenheits into Celsius, turn on your oven, whatever, yawn.... and that's before you even start breaking the eggs... and seemingly I am told you cannot make an omelette without breaking said eggs.<br />
<br />
OOO, and now they want me to believe I can cook 'light', when the real so-called art of cooking relies on mostly 3 fundamentally unhealthy ingredients -butter, cream, salt.<br />
<br />
I hear protests .... but what about garlic ...and wine! The saviours! Sure garlic is a natural antibiotic, and wine is full of good stuff, but they have yet to prove that the latter ingredients can counteract the great artery-blocking powers of the former.<br />
<br />
Art? My foot! More like science to me, and really who in their right mind ever liked solving an equation? I don't think I have what it takes to be a cooking 'artist' because real cooks do not need a recipe to make a squash soup. Recipes are for quitters... like me.<br />
<br />
I resign (je rends mon tablier), you'll find my apron burried in Escoffier's grave.Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-83951627140491304782011-01-10T23:00:00.006+00:002011-01-17T16:54:05.383+00:00Mary or Rhoda?I was watching Mary Poppins a couple weeks back when I noticed her scarf for the very first time - because I started knitting again recently. It looked so nice, and light, and fluffy that I really want to make one like this and I even found a <a href="http://www.canknit.com/free/kos.html">pattern</a> for it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpKq6gY_dI/AAAAAAAAARk/ZWXbs6hhF7Q/s1600/Mary+Poppins+sitting+on+the+cloud.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpKq6gY_dI/AAAAAAAAARk/ZWXbs6hhF7Q/s320/Mary+Poppins+sitting+on+the+cloud.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>But the way my mind works, meant that now I look at everything that is knitted or crocheted on TV... and since these days I am captivated by the Mary Tyler Moore Show, I could not help but notice how much knitwear Rhoda wears. I am sure that there are plenty of patterns out there on the Internet, in case you want to knit or crochet one of these.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpKhNQypCI/AAAAAAAAARg/deOO5CGSjMY/s1600/brown+crochet+top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpKhNQypCI/AAAAAAAAARg/deOO5CGSjMY/s320/brown+crochet+top.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpLGEN6rZI/AAAAAAAAARo/H2xDARUZJVI/s1600/hat+scafrf+and+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpLGEN6rZI/AAAAAAAAARo/H2xDARUZJVI/s320/hat+scafrf+and+hands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpMVH6GZfI/AAAAAAAAAR0/Ci51qqiKbW4/s1600/poncho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpMVH6GZfI/AAAAAAAAAR0/Ci51qqiKbW4/s320/poncho.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have to once again admire the skill of the people who devise wardrobes on these shows in sync with the scriptwriters, as these are the details that do make the characters credible in a sitcom, and make the viewers identify with one character over another. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One important thing in this credibility business, is that in this series, Mary and Rhoda get to wear the same outfits and accessories in the very same way a normal person would wear their own garments. For example Mary mixes and matches various items of clothing, even over several seasons - this amazing pastel shade tweed skirt with gold tassle belt for example.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpOZQ1vGQI/AAAAAAAAASA/XXdakmqZVS0/s1600/skirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpOZQ1vGQI/AAAAAAAAASA/XXdakmqZVS0/s320/skirt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The way Mary's wardrobe works is transparent and even faithful to the letter to what women's magazines tells us to do time and again, that is-own a few staple pieces and accessorize or make them work with replaceable items. Mary's wardrobe is built around the colour red. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSsmItUbJtI/AAAAAAAAASU/IkONrzRerIw/s1600/MTMDivorce7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSsmItUbJtI/AAAAAAAAASU/IkONrzRerIw/s320/MTMDivorce7.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSslXa8VSFI/AAAAAAAAASQ/MzG4Iu-q3cA/s1600/MTMz11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSslXa8VSFI/AAAAAAAAASQ/MzG4Iu-q3cA/s320/MTMz11.jpeg" width="304" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSslW9jIGSI/AAAAAAAAASM/w9l03hCYWQc/s1600/MTMS1TodayIAmAMa_am.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSslW9jIGSI/AAAAAAAAASM/w9l03hCYWQc/s320/MTMS1TodayIAmAMa_am.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Below you see how Mary applies that rule with red and yellow. The yellow breaks the monotony of the all red outfits, and gives it that "spacy-cosmonauty" feel which was one of the style inspiration for couture in the 1960's and 1970's.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSslVpVc6HI/AAAAAAAAASE/gfCxinMXTJQ/s1600/MTM1M.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSslVpVc6HI/AAAAAAAAASE/gfCxinMXTJQ/s1600/MTM1M.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpNv_W9WMI/AAAAAAAAAR4/jsPEJIyuvfU/s1600/MTMz15.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSpNv_W9WMI/AAAAAAAAAR4/jsPEJIyuvfU/s320/MTMz15.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For an excellent article about the way the wardrobe was designed in the Mary Tyler Moore Show, read <a href="http://www.jyanet.com/mtm/010321.shtml">Fashioning Mary and Friends</a>.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let's do a test:</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Is your favourite colour : a) red, like Mary above or b) purple like Rhoda below?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssX-DqmJI/AAAAAAAAASo/vi1OMvDKHbA/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssX-DqmJI/AAAAAAAAASo/vi1OMvDKHbA/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssX-DqmJI/AAAAAAAAASo/vi1OMvDKHbA/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSsrlpT-kKI/AAAAAAAAASY/ZTf3OZeM5Og/s1600/rhoda21.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Would you rather wear: a) a classic tailored coat </span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssxJxsQ1I/AAAAAAAAAS0/0E9c3JKL0Sw/s1600/Lou%2527s+aparrtment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssxJxsQ1I/AAAAAAAAAS0/0E9c3JKL0Sw/s320/Lou%2527s+aparrtment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">or b) a poncho ?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssEgGaNII/AAAAAAAAASg/s9ywqAR6V6Q/s1600/poncho+far.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssEgGaNII/AAAAAAAAASg/s9ywqAR6V6Q/s320/poncho+far.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Would you wear: a) a hermes-style scarf around your neck?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssR0cs3FI/AAAAAAAAASk/-7exu1z4eQ8/s1600/MArys+scarf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssR0cs3FI/AAAAAAAAASk/-7exu1z4eQ8/s320/MArys+scarf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>or b) a hippy silky scarf around your head?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssezzQHaI/AAAAAAAAASw/qdNTt_GcaMQ/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssezzQHaI/AAAAAAAAASw/qdNTt_GcaMQ/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Is your hair: a) neat and tidy </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssbdrJMNI/AAAAAAAAASs/ggBVw_DNw6A/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSssbdrJMNI/AAAAAAAAASs/ggBVw_DNw6A/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" /></a></div>or b) fashionably messy?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSss5XAtXNI/AAAAAAAAAS4/eZ6-mPQI0BM/s1600/messy+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSss5XAtXNI/AAAAAAAAAS4/eZ6-mPQI0BM/s320/messy+hair.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Would you rather wear: a) a sassy little dress like this one</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSuMZgeoibI/AAAAAAAAAS8/bsJKaYSJzC8/s1600/tvg70.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSuMZgeoibI/AAAAAAAAAS8/bsJKaYSJzC8/s320/tvg70.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>or b) palazzo pants?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSsr95lLO0I/AAAAAAAAASc/7vjfDBVXN6Q/s1600/rhoda14.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSsr95lLO0I/AAAAAAAAASc/7vjfDBVXN6Q/s320/rhoda14.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Deep down, we don't ask ourselves the question, simply because although we are unique, we do belong to certain types too. The strength of the Mary Tyler Moore Show is that it promotes different types of the "girl next door" - the classy one, and the trendy/stylish one.<br />
<br />
I am definitely a Rhoda in all her failures and glories, and could never be a Mary, although my best friend would have been a blond Mary.<br />
I am constantly surprised when looking up a popular subject such as sitcoms - whether it's Frasier or The Mary Tyler Moore Show - how few studies there are of these monsters of cultural ideology these things are, in order to judge to what extent sitcoms are really a canvas for us to hang our own constructs on... For example Rhoda's self image, and Mary's insecurities deserve a complete doctoral thesis as these themes are linked to so many issues which were, and are still crucial to women's identity.<br />
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But girls and boys, a much more difficult choice for you...<br />
Are you ... a) a Lou grant?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSuOs33v8MI/AAAAAAAAATA/B6kC7lz6L6s/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSuOs33v8MI/AAAAAAAAATA/B6kC7lz6L6s/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">or b) a Ted Baxter?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSuPE0DPOOI/AAAAAAAAATE/DdHrIewj4H0/s1600/Ted_Baxter_690.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSuPE0DPOOI/AAAAAAAAATE/DdHrIewj4H0/s1600/Ted_Baxter_690.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Until next time.... :-)</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-21511418019621235842011-01-04T12:12:00.001+00:002011-01-06T09:11:49.905+00:00My own, personal, Nanook of the North<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.</span></span></div><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there."</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3ktYcP6I/AAAAAAAAARA/V-x5swALlHQ/s1600/Photo1235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3ktYcP6I/AAAAAAAAARA/V-x5swALlHQ/s320/Photo1235.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But... the children were NOT nestled all snug in their beds...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3dV2zD2I/AAAAAAAAAQw/AxX17rOng04/s1600/photo-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSMGVQQAeBI/AAAAAAAAARc/PMNI-6I17cM/s1600/Photo1242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSMGVQQAeBI/AAAAAAAAARc/PMNI-6I17cM/s320/Photo1242.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>This child of mine had made up his mind,<br />
to give his family a present of a different kind.<br />
And so, on Christmas Eve, to our surprise<br />
We trekked on the new snow,<br />
Crisps steps, in the cotton air.<br />
All the way to this important affair...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3-KuGdjI/AAAAAAAAARQ/dsj7TyA04nY/s1600/Photo1258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3-KuGdjI/AAAAAAAAARQ/dsj7TyA04nY/s320/Photo1258.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With his frozen hands, in his wet clothes</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He had built an igloo</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All on his own</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3e_VddAI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/1XYh1UDi5oU/s1600/photo-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3e_VddAI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/1XYh1UDi5oU/s320/photo-4.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Seventeen hours he had spent, in the dark of two nights,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Building this construction, with all his might</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3gBqz2NI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/XA9e26vGmAI/s1600/photo-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3gBqz2NI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/XA9e26vGmAI/s320/photo-5.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">He was so proud, and so were we!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ30ilf9tI/AAAAAAAAARM/AU2MCN6uksU/s1600/Photo1257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ30ilf9tI/AAAAAAAAARM/AU2MCN6uksU/s320/Photo1257.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Building an igloo, what a great feat!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Perhaps Nanook had something to do with this new found skill!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/oEEOK6e1nLE?fs=1" width="425"></iframe></div><br />
Son, you gave me the best gift of all,<br />
a present of the heart<br />
the present of the present<br />
and the present of the past.<br />
<br />
You have no idea the memories, this trek through the snow brought back<br />
Christmasses in France, a long long time ago,<br />
Spent by the warmth of my grand ma's stove,<br />
Walking up the snowy hill, hand in hand with my grand father<br />
On our way to a room full of singing men plucking geese, and floating down dancing in the air<br />
Smells of burnt feather, from the goose being singed.<br />
Sit quiet little girl. Watch the adults work, and prepare for the holy feast.<br />
Thank you son...<br />
And for you and all...<br />
This song.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NdiRhzTsSnk?fs=1" width="425"></iframe></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Disclaimer : Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely NOT coincidental<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: darkslateblue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;">.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ5rWMQ_uI/AAAAAAAAARU/0MaNOlqCDRc/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ5rWMQ_uI/AAAAAAAAARU/0MaNOlqCDRc/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The original <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nanook_of_the_North">Nanook</a> from 1922</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3tpEciqI/AAAAAAAAARI/fo40zvnG068/s1600/Photo1255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3tpEciqI/AAAAAAAAARI/fo40zvnG068/s320/Photo1255.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>PJ</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3eAHq7OI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/7wieWUPUWOQ/s1600/photo-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSJ3eAHq7OI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/7wieWUPUWOQ/s320/photo-2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Maïté</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSKAnFk8OaI/AAAAAAAAARY/px1gn-Qt9gY/s1600/P1010423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TSKAnFk8OaI/AAAAAAAAARY/px1gn-Qt9gY/s320/P1010423.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Me</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-76681827587619519752010-12-24T10:13:00.003+00:002011-01-28T19:35:25.591+00:00Becky, crochet, and (maybe) the meaning of life through sitcom set designBeing from France, I have a lot to catch up on TV wise. I used to despise sitcoms, but what do you know, maybe it's true that you mellow with age. Now I love them, but then again I am known for changing my mind about what I like and don't like.<br />
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What often makes me change my mind is the fact that friends like certain things that I do not particularly like spontaneously. For example, I did not know that I liked blogging, by my friend Becky advised me to do so. <a href="http://bthrifty.blogspot.com/2010/06/that-girl.html">She once blogged about That Girl</a>, and has always raved about The Mary Tyler Moore show, so I was intrigued and started watching these series from scratch, just like I started with a blank canvas for the I Love Lucy show.<br />
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Funny I mention canvas.... I can do crochet (another interest revived by <a href="http://bthrifty.blogspot.com/2010/06/that-girl.html">Becky's needle work</a>) whilst watching TV (underneath is a prototype of a larger<a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/purlbeebabette/pool/"> babette blanke</a>t that I would like to make, so really it was just to get me stated, I bought a lot of yarns odds and ends, and just went with the flow),<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVjHAgLUI/AAAAAAAAAQI/81EHrfCk7EM/s1600/Photo1209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVjHAgLUI/AAAAAAAAAQI/81EHrfCk7EM/s200/Photo1209.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And since this is a rather 1970's project to embark on, as I was watching the mary Tyler Moore show, I was struck by how similarly my taste is with Rhoda's, Mary's sidekick in the show. I much prefer Rhoda's apartment to Mary's.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROUj0ner2I/AAAAAAAAAPo/Et4aSp3kRzM/s1600/%255Brhoda2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROUj0ner2I/AAAAAAAAAPo/Et4aSp3kRzM/s320/%255Brhoda2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
See, Rhoda's apartment is very cozy, there is the orange bean bag, and coordinated rug, the old Rococo Mary Poppins like lamp, the shocking pink lamp shade, and matching bedspread, the amazing purple and pink and red sort of tartan curtains that bring the whole thing together. Whereas Mary's apartment is much more airy, and elegant, and subtle, and beige and brown... and sedate.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROU7mackYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/GOkE00xIP3Q/s1600/m1_rect540.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROU7mackYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/GOkE00xIP3Q/s320/m1_rect540.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVCPgFgTI/AAAAAAAAAP0/iO0lMF9BRfU/s1600/mary-tyler-moore-show.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVCPgFgTI/AAAAAAAAAP0/iO0lMF9BRfU/s320/mary-tyler-moore-show.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>For an extensive article about Mary's apartment, see <a href="http://jyanet.com/mtm/02051203.shtml">The Mary and Rhoda Magazine</a>, where you will even find tips on decorating Mary's style. Take a closer look at the design. I think this seamless part of sitcoms is fascinating. I remember watching an excellent documentary about how design set evolved in the Frasier series. (<i>Frasier Crane's Apartment</i> is a bonus feature on the Frasier Season 1 DVD set.). But the detail of Mary's apartment is just as fascinating.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVGN7mmaI/AAAAAAAAAP4/xNKGZwYrFeA/s1600/viewmtmaptmap.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVGN7mmaI/AAAAAAAAAP4/xNKGZwYrFeA/s320/viewmtmaptmap.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>This got me thinking about the amazing task that is set design, because it has to consciously recreate the individual psychological processes that go on when we decide to make a space for ourselves, and to top all this for people who do not even exist!<br />
<br />
Think about it, your interior reveals so much about you. It reveals the amount of money that you spend on it, which in turns depends on your income, and your job, it reveals your taste which is shaped by the times you live in, and the time and effort you are willing to put in it which reveals more of your personality.<br />
<br />
In TV sitcoms, set designers have to try and replicate this process for fictional characters, but there is of course the added dimension that there is an agenda, a rationale behind this which requires they need to frame a story neatly in a way that our lives are not framed. So for example, Mary's and Rhoda's apartment sets reflect two trends of the 1970's aesthetics and their ideology.<br />
<br />
Rhoda's apartment reflects Rhoda's personality - vibrant, slightly anarchic, creative, bohemian, and warm, and the colours reflect her emotional nature which is more exuberant than Mary's.<br />
<br />
Mary's apartment on the other hand is much more tame, everything in the right place, all in order, considering that she has to sleep on a pull out couch. She has books, thus implying a certain degree of ability to reflect on things, etc. The colours are more mute and reflect her elegant dress style.<br />
<br />
Overall, the idea behind this show and That Girl was to show that single girls would be able to "make it after all", i.e. make it on their own hence the importance of showing these girls living independently from their parents and/or boyfriend husbands- because "women's lib" was very present in 1960's and 1970's collective thought. Both in That Girl and the Mary Tyler Moore show, in the first episode we see these girls moving in their apartment which they rent with their own money (although how could a person like Ann Marie who works the odd job afford her place on 78th in NY remains a mystery, but that's just an aside, and NOT the point of the show).<br />
<br />
Also set designers consciously made Rhoda's apartment smaller than Mary's because Rhoda is from New York, and apartments are reputedly smaller there than in Minneapolis, look at Ann's 78th Street flat below which is much more cramped than Mary's, and is in fact a mixture of both Rhoda's anarchic nature, and Mary's elegance. It's as if Ann of That Girl had generated these two character's of Mary Tyler Moore Show. Her apartment is both muted, and elegantly messy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVT0dqK-I/AAAAAAAAAQA/6tmpioOlwSA/s1600/That+girl+interiror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TROVT0dqK-I/AAAAAAAAAQA/6tmpioOlwSA/s400/That+girl+interiror.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I could really wax lyrical about this topic, and many people have put much more effort in writing about design set, but it is always fun when watching an old fashioned sitcom to say things like, hey i remember this dish, or this cover or cushion style...we used to have one of those back in the day. And really if I were a set designer, and heard this, I would sit down with a sigh of self satisfaction, and would rest on my laurels for the rest of my life, because surely that would mean that life has a meaning after all!<br />
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And on these thoughts, boys, and girls, please do not forget to leave your stocking under the tree tonight, as you may have an expected visitor.... ho ho ho :-)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TRPJhXW55hI/AAAAAAAAAQM/owYHXu5ahA0/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TRPJhXW55hI/AAAAAAAAAQM/owYHXu5ahA0/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-26995577863188997172010-12-14T17:14:00.005+00:002010-12-15T14:10:58.247+00:00Lucille's got balls<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="goog_1300133525"></span><span id="goog_1300133526"></span>It is high time for me to pay tribute to the comic genius of Lucille Ball, from the ultimate all American TV series <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Love_Lucy.">I Love Lucy</a>.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV1QseaVEI/AAAAAAAAAOk/JdVcKThMRqk/s1600/Lucille+Ball.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV1QseaVEI/AAAAAAAAAOk/JdVcKThMRqk/s1600/Lucille+Ball.jpeg" /></a></div>By the time the show started, in 1951, Lucille was no spring chick, she was already 40. Pre <i>I Love Lucy</i>, she certainly was quite the seductress. Here are a few pre-Lucy pix.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQYXdTDtCZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/sKKuzXnX8cM/s1600/300-lucille-ball.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQYXdTDtCZI/AAAAAAAAAOw/sKKuzXnX8cM/s1600/300-lucille-ball.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQYXgazPN-I/AAAAAAAAAO0/GkVN9tBNs-Q/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQYXgazPN-I/AAAAAAAAAO0/GkVN9tBNs-Q/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQYXmqn2TAI/AAAAAAAAAO8/jqmiYaWVST4/s1600/LucilleBall.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQYXmqn2TAI/AAAAAAAAAO8/jqmiYaWVST4/s320/LucilleBall.jpeg" width="246" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">And even though she consistently thereafter had "a lot of 'splaining to do", she remained quite the pin-up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV0-dX6OWI/AAAAAAAAAOM/b1e0nd56dJw/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV0-dX6OWI/AAAAAAAAAOM/b1e0nd56dJw/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV1IGig8FI/AAAAAAAAAOY/5gwrlIDwS14/s1600/pic.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV1IGig8FI/AAAAAAAAAOY/5gwrlIDwS14/s320/pic.jpeg" width="254" /></a></div>But Lucy, was not just a silly red head. According to estranged Desi Arnaz, she was not a natural red head, and the jury is still out on whether Lucy was a communist or not. But, in 1953, she was met by a representative of the House Committee on un-American activities for having stated the Communist party in her political affiliations, when she registered to vote for 1936 (<a href="http://foia.fbi.gov/foiaindex/ball.htm">fbi files</a>). She did deny all political involvement, as one would do naturally at the time, and let's remember that many actors, and artists became the object of all sorts of accusations by the HCUA at the time, and that you were guilty by association, see A Miller and Marilyn for example. Whether she was "better red than red" being a non issue, let's have a look at her comic genius, and that of the series's scriptwriters. Lucy is funny mostly because she does slapstick, a form of comedy mostly dominated by men, and Lucille Ball worked with the best in the field, and what a brilliant student she was!<br />
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Before the show, she worked with Laurel and Hardy, The Three Stooges, the Marx Brothers,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV007toyTI/AAAAAAAAAN8/YZk_34LFXSU/s1600/Archive+Photos.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV007toyTI/AAAAAAAAAN8/YZk_34LFXSU/s320/Archive+Photos.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV007toyTI/AAAAAAAAAN8/YZk_34LFXSU/s1600/Archive+Photos.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Harpo even featured in an episode of Lucy. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iNLlYOgFZ4">Click here to watch the clip.</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV03tdDkzI/AAAAAAAAAOA/6E5rYGqhg8o/s1600/CBS.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV03tdDkzI/AAAAAAAAAOA/6E5rYGqhg8o/s320/CBS.jpeg" width="249" /></a></div> And Buster Keaton<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV08hJ59lI/AAAAAAAAAOI/WzbT4a4bpcs/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV08hJ59lI/AAAAAAAAAOI/WzbT4a4bpcs/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" /></a></div>"<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The jokes, reminiscences, and reenactment of well-loved movie bits that filled the Boors Nest were more than an exercise in nostalgia. For the aging men, they kept the withering muscles of their comedy in shape. For Lucille, they provided informal professional training. .....Up in the Boors Nest, Keaton taught Lucille how to command props and how to throw herself into physical maneuvers without hurting herself. Speedy, rambunctious Lucille learned to slow down and refine action. Keaton drilled her in the mantra that was the foundation of her fabled comic timing: Listen, React, then Ac<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #e69138;">t. ..<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">...</span></span></i><br />
<div style="font-weight: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #e69138; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Miss Grant Takes Richmond, her first film under her new Columbia agreement, showed that Keaton’s belief in her was justified. Lucille played a public-spirited secretary, a character so ditsy that watching her is like standing before a photographer’s developing tray and seeing a photograph of Lucy Ricardo gradually emerge."</span></i></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: #e69138; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Excerpt from Kathleen Brady's <i>The Life of Lucille Ball.</i></span></span></span></div><br />
Lucille Ball, in the character of Lucy stands out because she was willing to take personal challenges and push them to the limit. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4PsxT11OHI">See for example when she impersonates Charlie Chaplin.</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV1AKv9_CI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/GRBXb1fs958/s1600/life.classic.faces.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQV1AKv9_CI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/GRBXb1fs958/s320/life.classic.faces.jpeg" width="235" /></a></div>She has no issue putting on a man's suit, being that of a tramp or of that of a clown. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sscHFyxD0Y8&feature=related">See The Audition.</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdWFfIGe5I/AAAAAAAAAPI/G-6wXs3fydw/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdWFfIGe5I/AAAAAAAAAPI/G-6wXs3fydw/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Humour by nature is progressive because it makes you look at yourself from outside, hence it transforms you, and your world. It allows you to take a look at the flaws of the world you live in, and here the show does to some extent what Charlie Chaplin did in Modern Times, it says look at this society, it is funny, it is not right and things need to change. In fact there is a direct reference to one of the mosct famous scenes in Modern Times in <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wp3m1vg06Q">the candy factory scene.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdWKp3VtLI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/3GPSxHULCOs/s1600/More+I+Love+Lucy%252C+Chocolate%252C+and+furiously+faster%252C+frequently+fantastical+and+fabulous+%2528in+the+literal+senses+of+the+words%2529+history+.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdWKp3VtLI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/3GPSxHULCOs/s320/More+I+Love+Lucy%252C+Chocolate%252C+and+furiously+faster%252C+frequently+fantastical+and+fabulous+%2528in+the+literal+senses+of+the+words%2529+history+.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>I could go on about her prowess at slapstick for ever but here are another two clips that are such testimonies to her vast talent at slapstick - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OxjM6-dufw">The ballet scene</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdV8PUAUkI/AAAAAAAAAPE/ZefyEQCU9qg/s1600/50589651.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdV8PUAUkI/AAAAAAAAAPE/ZefyEQCU9qg/s320/50589651.jpeg" width="303" /></a></div>or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlPvHPtLZr4">Lucy's geisha's dance.</a><br />
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<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">There is also a little more to the show than mere slapstick. In<i> I Love Lucy</i>, the traditional family values of American post-war society are prevalent, however some signs of ambivalence are displayed towards its own values, I wish I could say the show was in someway subversive, but that would be just too far fetched, but it was ambivalent.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">The premise of the show relies mostsly on Lucy's frustrations with her status of housewife and her ambitions which makes her dissatisfied with the daily chores no matter how hard she tries. This model is far from the usual “stepford wives” representations of the perfect homemaker of the 1950's. In this way, <i>I Love Lucy</i> echoes many women’s position, frustrations and ambitions to get away from the confines of an apron, and this drives the comedic plotline of the show. </span></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">Watch her and her pal Ethel trying to make </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLdf8WwkMWw">bread and butter</a>.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdV6IMgs9I/AAAAAAAAAPA/mm7vzlh-K2U/s1600/0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdV6IMgs9I/AAAAAAAAAPA/mm7vzlh-K2U/s320/0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Lucy is forever pursuing new things to do, often at the expense of on-and-off stage husband Ricky Ricardo (Desi Arnaz). She often dream of making it in the world of television or cinema. Here she is being shot for an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXlFIdu8NJU&feature=related">Italian movie, acting as though she was Sofia Lauren.</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdWItihqiI/AAAAAAAAAPM/5RAcz43oZqI/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TQdWItihqiI/AAAAAAAAAPM/5RAcz43oZqI/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXlFIdu8NJU&feature=related"></a>But ultimately, Lucy's grandiose illusions fails and “domestic harmony” returns, Ricky forgives Lucy for her “silly mistakes” and regains the figure of authority in the household. Lucy was indeed a "bad girl", and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjIpMcCohY0">scenes of spanking</a> are numerous, in a way that might be even seen as “acceptable” in today's media. The theme of men's (Ricky's) domination is a recurrent one in the series, and not necessarily in a fantasy kind of a way.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7399785288988521275&postID=2699557786318899717" name="lucy9"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7399785288988521275&postID=2699557786318899717" name="b2"></a> In this way, <i style="font-style: normal;"><b>I Love Lucy</b></i> “<i style="font-weight: normal;">simultaneously legitimizes the yearning of women for fuller lives and assured them that they would be better off keeping their dreams in their head</i>”</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Excerpt from Manning, Robert. “Why Love Lucy?” <u>Honey, I’m Home!</u> New York: Grove Press, Inc., 1992. 62-75.Manning 68-69). </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">This is the reason why such a show is ambivalent rather than subversive. The comic element of the character shows without the slightest shadow of a doubt the cracks in the American society of the 1950's, whilst on the other hand avoiding any form of radicalism, which would come at a later stage in the media with a series like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/That_Girl">That Girl</a>, shot with an actress who to this day is willing to take quite radical stances about women's position in society.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Lucille has become my favourite comic after Charlie Chaplin, and Buster Keaton, plus she was gorgeous, vulnerable, graceful, awkward, daring, unbearable, demanding, everything a woman should be. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I LOVE LUCILLE!</div></div><iframe frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/z3-OaNevkfg?fs=1" width="425"></iframe>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-59827179813670383562010-12-07T00:08:00.002+00:002010-12-12T14:11:26.989+00:00As we walked through the streets of Dublin...<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I am not going to lie to you. I have dithered and dithered about this post, because of its "political" aspect, and it may even switch a few people off, but I swear this will be the only one of its kind. Ten days ago, as we were coming back from a friend's house at about midnight, there was thunder and lightning. Something unheard of in Ireland. Next morning another unusual phenomenon for Ireland was covering all the streets and gardens.... SNOW! Such a rare event on this isle with its mild Atlantic climate!<br />
So when I got to the "LUAS", which is the name of the tramway, the tracks were covered with snow, and you can even see the Dublin mountains in the background.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfY0VD5zI/AAAAAAAAAM8/6MH4gObEjxU/s1600/Photo1108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfY0VD5zI/AAAAAAAAAM8/6MH4gObEjxU/s320/Photo1108.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>You see, I was on a mission, and the weather conditions reminded me of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUmB7jJ1NXE">Il pleut bergère</a> a French children song of some historical significance.be.<br />
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This song, all about a shepherdess and her sheep dates back to 1780 and is said to have been a herald of the Revolution which was to happen 9 years later. You see, Marie-Antoinette used to play shepherds and shepherdesses in the Little Trianon in Versailles, whilst the majority of her French subjects lived in abject conditions. In this song the Revolution of 1789 is symbolised by the rain and the thunder from which the "bergère" (the shepherdess) is seeking refuge.<br />
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Anyone who follows the news will know that the current situation in Ireland is alarming. After 8 centuries of resistance to England, it took just about 5 days for Ireland to abdicate its soveignty to the draconian conditions imposed by the EU and the IMF for it to repay its debt. But enough of the "leftie" talk, and on with the march.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfcpciL2I/AAAAAAAAANA/KBw1eBxOis4/s1600/Photo1113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfcpciL2I/AAAAAAAAANA/KBw1eBxOis4/s320/Photo1113.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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As I looked at the pictures of Dublin I took during last Saturday's march, I thought they would make an interesting post. Everyone is allowed their political opinions and I have no intention of labouring mine in this post, but this march went through so many sites of historical importance that it would be a shame to keep these pictures to myself I thought.<br />
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The march started at Christ Church with its bridge which links this medieval cathedral (on the left here) to the Synod hall.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfmJQAZiI/AAAAAAAAANE/n-SGP09VJ6w/s1600/Photo1115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfmJQAZiI/AAAAAAAAANE/n-SGP09VJ6w/s320/Photo1115.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You now have a view from that bridge and cathedral from the other side.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfqTgav8I/AAAAAAAAANI/_8pX9nIHvCc/s1600/Photo1118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfqTgav8I/AAAAAAAAANI/_8pX9nIHvCc/s320/Photo1118.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We marched from Christ Church down to the Liffey turned right at the 4 Courts and left at O'Connell bridge before reaching the General Post Office.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYglDx6TWI/AAAAAAAAANo/xEfgriD-Rb4/s1600/march.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYglDx6TWI/AAAAAAAAANo/xEfgriD-Rb4/s320/march.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>These are supposed to be the hands of oppression I guess. But it is very much in the style of the floats that you can see here at the St Patrick's day Parade.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYftexo8lI/AAAAAAAAANM/dlfiZhVWNK4/s1600/Photo1127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYftexo8lI/AAAAAAAAANM/dlfiZhVWNK4/s320/Photo1127.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Underneath is the Four Courts, which is now the centre of legal life in Dublin, but which also a building of crucial importance during the Eater Rising of 1916, and the Irish civil war.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfwyPnNhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/f3q1stwBTRk/s1600/Photo1128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfwyPnNhI/AAAAAAAAANQ/f3q1stwBTRk/s320/Photo1128.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The river Liffey, also known as Anna Livia<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfz9lTaPI/AAAAAAAAANU/v2aC6yilZqg/s1600/Photo1129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYfz9lTaPI/AAAAAAAAANU/v2aC6yilZqg/s320/Photo1129.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And the Ha'penny bridge, a pedestrian cast iron bridge over the Liffey, built in 1816. The board walk promenade that flanks the river is a recent addition.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf3umlrbI/AAAAAAAAANY/b4SCpcUV_wQ/s1600/Photo1130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf3umlrbI/AAAAAAAAANY/b4SCpcUV_wQ/s320/Photo1130.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then of course O'Connell street, which many kids were taught (wrongly of course) was the widest street in the whole of Europe! At the very start of the street is a statue of Daniel O'Connell, the "Liberator", the man behind Catholic emancipation in Ireland </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf_fFF8hI/AAAAAAAAANk/JW64BftrOcc/s1600/Photo1137bis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf_fFF8hI/AAAAAAAAANk/JW64BftrOcc/s320/Photo1137bis.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>William Smith O'Brien, although a protestant, was also a supporter of Daniel O'Connell at the start, and then became one of his rivals.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf7dyxSJI/AAAAAAAAANc/9YnBF_FEbqY/s1600/Photo1133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf7dyxSJI/AAAAAAAAANc/9YnBF_FEbqY/s320/Photo1133.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Sir John Gray, yet another pal of Daniel O'Connell.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf9Y2C1MI/AAAAAAAAANg/_8Pl9OuVDtk/s1600/Photo1135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TPYf9Y2C1MI/AAAAAAAAANg/_8Pl9OuVDtk/s320/Photo1135.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There were too many people for me to take a picture of the General Post Office (pic underneath) which In Ireland IS the symbol of the Easter Rising of 1916, and freedom from Britain, as it was the headquarters of the uprising leaders.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TP11n3CBMWI/AAAAAAAAAN0/4R-r4Mz8Uow/s1600/Photo1139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TP11n3CBMWI/AAAAAAAAAN0/4R-r4Mz8Uow/s320/Photo1139.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>In conclusion, a hard snow came in Dublin 10 days or so ago, they are announcing more snow tonight, tomorrow is budget day, and I will be once again going out on the streets of Dublin to protest my disagreement with the current decisions which are being made in the name of the Irish people, and I leave you with one of my favourite songs from Bob Dylan, and next time I will write about my recent stay in Pennsylvania, but sometimes it is also good to look out the window to see what is happening outside.<br />
A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall - Live 1976 - Bob Dylan<br />
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<embed allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" id="VideoPlayback" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=-3995250297882568860&hl=en&fs=true" style="height: 326px; width: 400px;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-15761155806142790802010-11-29T15:56:00.001+00:002010-11-29T23:47:58.403+00:00Award !First of all a mega "merci" to <a href="http://sailingoveracardboardsea.blogspot.com/">Ginger from sailingoveracardboardsea</a> for this totally unexpected award. This was so heart warming. It really was, and I am so proud<br />
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What a delight! I want to (sort) of apologize to the guys to whom I am giving this "lovely" blog award, as this may not sound so "macho", but please do accept my award, ya never know when you'll get another one!<br />
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As usual, this award comes a few conditions that I am most happy to comply to. They are as follows:<br />
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1. Accept the award.<br />
Post it on your blog with the name of the person who awarded it along with a link to their blog.<br />
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2. Pay it forward to 15 other bloggers that you have recently discovered.<br />
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3. Contact those bloggers and let them know they've been chosen.<br />
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With number one already completed, let's move on to the exciting part, the lovely blogs! <br />
I am adding the stipulation that the blogs I choose for the award must have less than 100 followers as I know that these blogs often do not get the recognition they deserve. <br />
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My One Lovely Blog Award recipients are, in no particular order:<br />
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<a href="http://frenchkitcheninamerica.blogspot.com/2010/11/chocolate-thoughts-and-chocolate-times.html">Mimi from French Kitchen in America</a>, for her beautiful writing intermingling feelings, memory and food!<br />
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<a href="http://bthrifty.blogspot.com/">Becky from Bthrifty</a>, for her stitching talent, and her cats, and her friendly posts. She never hesitates about sharing what she knows about and loves.<br />
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<a href="http://leblogdelalilloise.blogspot.com/2010/11/celle-qui-na-pas-froid-aux-yeux.html">La Lilloise</a> for her amazing sense of style, and great taste in music<br />
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<a href="http://algoderebelde.blogspot.com/">Cosas</a>, for her incredible knack at illustrating her daily moods with mostly pin up illustrations, and Sponge Bob Square pants. I have no clue what she says most the time, but I use Google translate, and hey presto I get the gist!<br />
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<a href="http://sailingoveracardboardsea.blogspot.com/">Ginger from Sailing across a cardboard sea</a>, well she gave me the award in the first place, but I really would like my friends to visit her stunning blog, and her wide array of topics. Plus she is beautiful.<br />
<a href="http://netpetticoat.blogspot.com/">Vintage Belle</a>, for the amazing effort she puts in finding beautiful pictures to illustrate her blog with.<br />
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<a href="http://annushkalitvinova.blogspot.com/">Annushka</a> for her sense of fashion, and her general good cheer.<br />
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<a href="http://www.kitschmoog.com/">Daniel from Kitschmoog</a> for his sense of style, and fun, and his astounding research into the world of kitsch.<br />
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<a href="http://insertdomainname.wordpress.com/">Pj from insertdomainname</a>, whom I wish wqould write more often, and inform us on his weord theories about human behaviour.<br />
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<a href="http://thriftaholic.blogspot.com/">Leilani from Thriftaholic</a>, because she is such an elegant and creative vintage lady.<br />
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<a href="http://gigglytimes.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-good-thing.html">Shannon from Gigglytimes</a> for her amazing talent with needle and thread.<br />
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<a href="http://toddwinkels.blogspot.com/">Todd, from Apple and Leo/Absurd sentimentalism</a> for his great graphic talent, and sense of the spiritual.<br />
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<a href="http://fasterkittykill.blogspot.com/">Pam, from Fasterkittykill, blog, blog</a>!, for her good cheer, great video, and she is a babe!<br />
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<a href="http://motionpicturegems.blogspot.com/">Tom, from motion picture gems</a>, for his in depth analysis of some of the most wonderful movies ever made.<br />
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<a href="http://outervalues.blogspot.com/">Mademoiselle Antonova</a>, sheer style.<br />
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and finally <a href="http://thevintageknitter.blogspot.com/">The Vintage Knitter</a> for keep knitting on the map!<br />
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<i>PLEASE PAY A VISIT TO THESE BLOGS, YOU WON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!</i><br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_55029859"></span><span id="goog_55029860"></span>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-71650924702858582592010-11-01T14:38:00.005+00:002010-11-01T17:51:50.541+00:00"Madeleine", a name, a cake, a song and more...I always loved the sound of the name “Madeleine”. In French, the succession of warm vowels and soft consonants never fails to evoke “une certaine douceur”, a sweetness of sorts. In my imagination, all Madeleines wear pastel yellow twin sets with pearls.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The most vintage of all Madeleine, has to be Mary of Magdala who of course, Mary Magdalene, who doesnt exactly fit the description I stated above. No sir, she is reputed to have been an adultress whom Jesus cleansed from her demons and to have been the first one to see him resurrected. Some even say that she may have been Jesus's wife, but all this is just historical gossip as we all know. She often is depicted as a penitent, and here by Titian and as quite a stunner.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7I_IT2x6I/AAAAAAAAALA/8PH6S7nIsjE/s1600/Fichier:Tizian+010.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7I_IT2x6I/AAAAAAAAALA/8PH6S7nIsjE/s320/Fichier:Tizian+010.jpeg" width="251" /></a></div>She is no light weight in religious terms, no sirry! Churches are called after Sainte Madeleine, see La Madeleine, in Paris which was originally a temple built on the remains of a church by Napoleon to pay tribute to his “great army”.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JDpUppcI/AAAAAAAAALE/YFH_ais8kwA/s1600/lamadeleine.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JDpUppcI/AAAAAAAAALE/YFH_ais8kwA/s320/lamadeleine.png" width="320" /></a></div>Given all this, it is not surprising that the ultimate cake for penitents should be “madeleines”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The genesis of this cake are uncertain, some say that the recipe dates back to the origins of the Way of St James (St Jacques de Compostelle) when some girl called "Madelaine" baked this lemony sponge cake in a scallop which is a symbol of all pilgrims walking toward Santiago de Compostella.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JKDiYQ4I/AAAAAAAAALI/VPmUKB8bhsw/s1600/madeleine_matcha1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7FpGlmqJI/AAAAAAAAAK4/h52irEfHOxM/s1600/20080730-madeleines-homemade.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7FpGlmqJI/AAAAAAAAAK4/h52irEfHOxM/s320/20080730-madeleines-homemade.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And here are posh madeleines<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JKDiYQ4I/AAAAAAAAALI/VPmUKB8bhsw/s1600/madeleine_matcha1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JKDiYQ4I/AAAAAAAAALI/VPmUKB8bhsw/s320/madeleine_matcha1.jpeg" width="295" /></a></div>Others say that a certain “Madeleine” from Commercy, in the French eastern region of Lorraine, created this recipe for King Stanislaw I of Poland, in the mid 18<sup>th</sup> century. Who knows, and who gives a damn! BUt here is <a href="http://hungrysofia.com/2010/08/06/julia-childs-madeleines-de-commercy/">Julia Child's madeleines de Commercy recipe</a>, and really if you don't have the right molds, just bake them in <a href="http://douceursetepices.canalblog.com/archives/2008/04/18/8305024.html">muffin cases like these</a>.<br />
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But I had my fair share of these when I was a teenager, as my first boyfriend originated from Commercy, and of course each time the parents visited there they would come back with a huge bag of “<a href="http://www.frenchmoments.com/Madeleine.html">madeleines de Commercy</a>”. I ate so much of these at that stage that I could not face another madeleine for years after we split up. But dear reader, ler me reassure you, I could once again demolish a plate of these no problem.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JU5q8EDI/AAAAAAAAALM/UaNBGxHNfDI/s1600/madeleine.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JU5q8EDI/AAAAAAAAALM/UaNBGxHNfDI/s1600/madeleine.jpeg" /></a></div>I long for these needless to say. Who wouldn't? But of course I also do because it is associated with happy times of my teenage years. This is a very fragrant little cake that also got given its stamp of approval by no less than Marcel Proust himself, one of the most revered authors of 20<sup>th</sup> century France.</div><div style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 0.48cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><i>She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called petites madeleines, which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place…at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory…</i></span></span></div><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><i></i></span></span><span style="color: black;">— </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_Search_of_Lost_Time#Publication_in_English"><span style="color: #0645ad;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">Remembrance of Things Past</span></i></span></span></span></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;">, Volume 1: Swann's Way</span></i></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7GG5ZT8EI/AAAAAAAAAK8/ibhMRoSShf8/s1600/DSC_0120-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7GG5ZT8EI/AAAAAAAAAK8/ibhMRoSShf8/s320/DSC_0120-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;">This passage, which describes what the act of dunking a madeleine in his tea opens up for the narrator, became instantaneously world famous, and is refered to as the “episode of the Madeleine”, because of its literary acknowledgment of the role of involuntary memory in every day life. A recall function we all have, but whcih is not deliberate. This was of course very much in the spirit of a time when Freud and others discovered the many hidden layers of our psychology.</span><br />
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</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=7399785288988521275&postID=7165092470285858259" name="firstHeading"></a>But there is of course another very famous Madeleine in literature. Many of us are familiar with this classic of children literature, Madeline by <a href="http://www.madeline.com/author.ht">Ludwig Bemelmans</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif;">.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JgdTewRI/AAAAAAAAALQ/yyXP1BhEfyk/s1600/madeline.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TM7JgdTewRI/AAAAAAAAALQ/yyXP1BhEfyk/s320/madeline.jpeg" width="230" /></a></div>If you want to listen to a slighlty altered and darker version of Madeline, please listen to Werner Herzog tell this story.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: center;"><<object height="344" style="background-image: url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/57EDxvldLD4/hqdefault.jpg);" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/57EDxvldLD4?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/57EDxvldLD4?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>I leave you today with another very well know Madeleine and a song, Jacques Brel's Madeleine, I even found a version with English subtitles. And forget about what I said about the sweetness of Madeleine in my introductory sentence. No offense to any potential Madeleine readers out there, but this one is a bitch, with a capital B!<br />
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</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-85456963019940458782010-10-26T18:19:00.002+01:002010-10-26T19:09:15.922+01:00Flowers, love and deathI started writing something about Chrysanthemums 3 days ago, and could not. 23<sup>rd</sup> October was the anniversary of my mom's death. In fact, she is dead 23 years this year. I miss her everyday, and it makes me sad that I can't even go and put some Chysanthemums on her grave on the Day of the Dead which is celebrated on 2<sup>nd</sup> November in France.<br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Chrysanthemums are a very special flower to me. First of all they come in an array of warm colours which woven together look like the most wonderfully rich Indian fabrics.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span id="goog_116808787"></span><span id="goog_116808788"></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3MoErwI/AAAAAAAAAH0/oGVqaEYFiVw/s1600/4840171480_fd9181f8a9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3MoErwI/AAAAAAAAAH0/oGVqaEYFiVw/s320/4840171480_fd9181f8a9.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">They also come in different shapes. This one looks like a sea anemone. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwgPf8LfI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/fis8dV99RC0/s1600/imgres-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwgPf8LfI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/fis8dV99RC0/s1600/imgres-4.jpeg" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">This one like an octopus</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwfjcnlyI/AAAAAAAAAIA/Xx6_cygYMxY/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwfjcnlyI/AAAAAAAAAIA/Xx6_cygYMxY/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" /></a></div>A feast of patterns fit for any chaos theoretician.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwxwhQ8kI/AAAAAAAAAIc/WbkKfApMNhU/s1600/chrysantheme_original_rose.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwxwhQ8kI/AAAAAAAAAIc/WbkKfApMNhU/s1600/chrysantheme_original_rose.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3igyDQI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YNhrCV9YKWE/s1600/Chrysanth%C3%A8me+des+fleuristes.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3igyDQI/AAAAAAAAAH8/YNhrCV9YKWE/s1600/Chrysanth%C3%A8me+des+fleuristes.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwxqiZrVI/AAAAAAAAAIY/E0Snuij_tVc/s1600/imgres-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwxqiZrVI/AAAAAAAAAIY/E0Snuij_tVc/s1600/imgres-6.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwxiaWihI/AAAAAAAAAIU/VjGefic8Ljc/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwxiaWihI/AAAAAAAAAIU/VjGefic8Ljc/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div>We, as humans, have a special affinity with flowers, so much so that some girls even get the priviledge of being named Violette, Marguerite, Rose, Iris, or Capucine. Sadly, to my knowledge, no one gets called Chrysanthemum. Shame really, since the word Chrysanthemum derives from the Greek, and means "golden flower". In countries like China and Japan, this noble flower is a symbol for happiness, longevity and pleasure. And in Europe, this flower was originally introduced as a symbol of beauty and happiness too.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br />
But in France, after the butchery which was the First World War, one year after the war, the Pointcaré government decided that all French soldiers graves should be decorated on 11th November. The Armistice being celebrated on 11th November, the only ornemental flower still in bloom in French gardens were Chrysanthemums, and because of the proximity of the date with 2nd November, it quickly became customary to go and place Chysanthemums (in French <i>Chrysanthèmes</i>, on relatives graves). Thus, in France this flower intrinsically embodies love and death, since for us it is a way of showing the love we hold in our hearts for our dearly departed. And in a sense, as far as gardens are concerned, you could say that Chrysanthemums were the last casualty of WW1, since they are now very rarely used as ornemental plants in French gardens.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwfn2naOI/AAAAAAAAAII/gXJyrDjIQhg/s1600/DSC_0001W.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbwfn2naOI/AAAAAAAAAII/gXJyrDjIQhg/s320/DSC_0001W.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A flower shop, just before la Toussaint (All Souls' Day, and by extension 2nd November, which is when the French go <i>en masse</i> to their relatives cemeteries.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3G69API/AAAAAAAAAHw/AFpWNH-aWH4/s1600/20091113-toussaintrocles.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3G69API/AAAAAAAAAHw/AFpWNH-aWH4/s1600/20091113-toussaintrocles.jpeg" /></a></div>But more than anything, for me Chrysanthemums remind me of my grand father and his enchanted garden. My grand dad was a factory worker who supplemented his income by selling the produce he grew from his garden. And what an amazing garden! One day I will write just about this garden which to me has become somewhat of an obsession. He used to grow all sorts, French beans, potatoes, beetroot, lettuces, carrots, peas, in all their varieties...you name it. He also grew flowers for the house but also to sell. Chrysanthemums were crucial to his income as he could make much more money on flowers than on vegetables (that he sold to the local shops).<br />
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So for "La Toussaint", my grand dad would take orders from people, and he would take me with him, we would load the pots on his wheelbarrow. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv254ICcI/AAAAAAAAAHs/U9gUmrgtA3w/s1600/400_F_5145732_2yGhsTE59qqvza4k6IYWgbI7jc1OcM4V.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv254ICcI/AAAAAAAAAHs/U9gUmrgtA3w/s320/400_F_5145732_2yGhsTE59qqvza4k6IYWgbI7jc1OcM4V.jpeg" width="216" /></a></div>And sometimes if there was some space left I would sit amongst the pots on the wheelbarrow and off we went to the cemetery on Château-Chinon, in order to deliver the pot to Madame or Monsieur such and such's grave. That's the service he provided. This was great for old people who could no longer walk up to the cemetery to put this token of their love and memory on their cherished ones' graves.<br />
And would you look at the view from the cemetery!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3dVeOMI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VmYutIDK_nk/s1600/11239301366_FSA-le-morvan-m.long.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TMbv3dVeOMI/AAAAAAAAAH4/VmYutIDK_nk/s1600/11239301366_FSA-le-morvan-m.long.jpeg" /></a></div>He now lies in this cemetery besides his wife and his mom. Sadly, my mom doesn't share their grave. And once again all I can do this year is mentally go and place some virtual Chrysanthemums on their graves.<br />
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But they are not forgotten, how could I forget the man who taught me all I know about picking mushroom, and blackberries, the man who brought me swimming in the river even in the rain, who could kill and skin a rabbit in 30 seconds flat, the man who used to read the newspapers aloud from his armchair for all to hear, the man who cooked the "bad" potatoes in a huge pot over the stove for his rabbits, and if I was very good would let me taste them with a bit of butter and some sea salt, before carrying same pot on same wheelbarrow down to the garden.<br />
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I prefer not to talk about my mum or grand mother, but my memories of them are just as sweet, but put it this way I now have a working garden in which I grow things, I own my very own wheelbarrow, and believe you me, if you don't own one, you can never know how useful it can be. In my kitchen there is a large bedroom wardrobe where I keep all my kitchenware, like my grand mother did, and these days, I knit a lot just like my mom, and I am finishing a huge tapestry that she gave me for my 18th birthday and that I never had the time or the inclination to do thus far.<br />
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So to all my people, if you are reading from above, I know you don't understand English, I would hope that since you are in Heaven you get to understand everything, and I do know that you can read my heart.<br />
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</div>Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7399785288988521275.post-26368051943015742342010-10-17T12:20:00.001+01:002010-10-17T14:46:11.594+01:00Friday on my mindHad a very strange Friday. First of all I have been sick all week with tummy issues, and I have been ignoring this too long, so if I get 5 minutes I problee should go to doc, haven't been able to look at hot food for about a week now, not that it's bad per se.<br />
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But yes back to Friday, I had a chair tango class at 4, with my favourite dance teacher Carolina who is from Columbia. Carolina is the spitting image of "Gloria" (Sofia Vergara) in Modern Family.<br />
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In other word, <a href="http://rumbaireland.com/about-carolina.html">Carolina</a> is the image if perfection, and her taste in music is equal to none, but then again she went to tango school in Argentina, no less.<br />
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Then had to go to PJ's debs drinks at his old school, I went in my gym gear, all parents were in penguin wear so I felt a tad out of place especially since my son was wearing a tux and his hair is about the same length as mine now. Anyhooo, taking into account that I had seen "IF" the previous night, I guess the other parents were lucky that I opted not to bring any weapons. But all the guys and dolls were lovely, my son in particular of course :-) and his girlfriend!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TLrYi76dRwI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/PxYicNAWA8Q/s1600/Robyn's+Debs+Oct+15+2010+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TLrYi76dRwI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/PxYicNAWA8Q/s320/Robyn's+Debs+Oct+15+2010+030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>All the girls were beautiful, and all the guys looked quite uneasy in their tux, but hey what an opportunity to role play being gangsters.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TLrYivIJ0NI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jvFeCSW3SgQ/s1600/Robyn's+Debs+Oct+15+2010+048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TLrYivIJ0NI/AAAAAAAAAHM/jvFeCSW3SgQ/s320/Robyn's+Debs+Oct+15+2010+048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>So I went home, left them to deal with their first taste of how boring these types of events can be, and my friends Irma and Anne were coming that evening for a ciné-club night. We meet once in a while to watch a French or an Italian movie together, usually a comedy. This time it was Tanguy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TLrY6_LYceI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Ygq-YKfjReU/s1600/tanguy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_FkER34sy_uc/TLrY6_LYceI/AAAAAAAAAHU/Ygq-YKfjReU/s320/tanguy.jpeg" width="224" /></a></div>It was a nice enough comedy, you can never really go wrong with experienced comedic actors such as Sabine Azema and André Dussolier, basically about a son driving his parents demented as he is 28 and won't leave home, seemingly a common issue these days.<br />
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What a strange Friday it was.Danièlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18378805779170435364noreply@blogger.com3