Hide nor Hair.

Disclaimer (don't you love it when my post start like that?)
This is not my normal fari... but it is normal "me" - just ask my Mom and sisters.
Pretend you and I are true friends and we are snuggled up on my couch with our kids long tucked in... yucking in up.  

We've all done it-

*Stared at our toes an hour before our pedicure wondering, "Should I trim those things, or at the very least... dig out the lint???"

*The morning of our hair cut, wondered if we should actually bother to wash the workout sweat out before our stylist runs their fingers thru it and says, "So what are we going to do today?"

*Shuddered to think of hiring a housekeeper because then we would actually have to clean up before she came over once a week.  I mean, how could you ask another woman to clean up your hubby's curly ques from under the toilet seat???

And the worst of them all ----
The morning of the Pap, wondering... how much is too much in the... ugh... "personal grooming"...ahem, department.

Yeah, pick yourself up off the floor, that's what we are talking about today.  

It is truly the worst. 

You can't bust out the clippers the morning of --  I mean, you can't really go in there looking like, "I did this for you." but you can't go in there looking like Sasquatch either, can you?

Where is the line?   Especially in the Midwest where we get to cover up 6 months of the year, it's easy to leave the hair removal wax on the shelf and the scissors in the drawer if you know what I mean.  It's easy to catch a glimpse in the mirror one day and think, "Good gravy!  What is that???"  and realize that things will have to change before you accept that invite to your friends pool.

I remember before I ever got pregnant, a friend of mine telling me that when you are "great with child" you can't see "your unit" (as she called it) any more.  
I was horrified!
But not long after did I learn she was right and as my belly got bigger, one day I called Joel in for a lesson in wax strips - "Look, I said, I am going to have your baby and you are going to learn to wax my bikini - there is no way I am going to be naked in front of the doctor, nurse and my Mom looking like some sort of sex-ed chapter out of a 1972 school text book."

He's a good man.

And I have since figured out how to maneuver to do it myself and I am proud to say I going into labor looking... well kept.

I know you know which text book I am talking about - 
I can still see those black and white pictures of someone who looked like they were from the set of "Love Story" giving birth.  It was frightening ---- like girlfriend!  It's called a hedge trimmer!

"Love means never having to say your sorry going au natural?"
I think not.

So, what's a girl to do?  As if the whole process wasn't bad enough - I mean, anytime you're not wearing a cowboy hat but the word "stirrups" are involved...
 -Shudder-
 It's bad enough trying to decide to leave your socks on or not - but I know I am not the only girl who has woke up the morning of the annual exam and realized her dilemma.  

Tell me I am not the only one!

I'VE BEEN WAITING!!!!! Now SETTLE DOWN!

What you may...

or may not know about me...

is...

that I am a MAJOR

No Doubt/Gwen Stefani fan!

HAVE BEEN FOR 18 YEARS!

(I even have a Pinterest board for Gwen!!!)

After a couple solo albums for Gwen...

THE BAND IS BACK!

I've been waiting all summer for this:

TODAY the single came out!

The new album comes out in September.


(I've been told her fall line is FAB too!)

If I told you how much their music has meant to me over the years

-you'd think I was a total dork :)

LOVE IT!

Don't Miss the Baby Story

So, I had to get my little Nascar party in there but you won't want to miss the story of my sister's baby's birth (Friday's post)...

I'll be back early next week with some wonderful "beat the heat" recipes including this one...

Parisienne Farmgirl's Chamomile and Lavender Cake!

Bon Weekend!

We are celebrating!  It was 101 degrees this morning and now it's 73!  The windows are open!  Good sleepin' tonight!

Lucy, Ethel, A TSA Worker and my Husband

I swear, half the fun of blogging is naming the post.

Like being an O.P.I. nail polish namer!  Wouldn't that be a riot?

I saw this story the other day about a nursing momma who was forced to pump her milk because a TSA worker did not believe her when she told her the "item in question" was a breast pump.  God bless her--- thinking she would be one step ahead of the game she emptied her bottles... you know, the whole liquid on a plane thing.  Then she gets in line and the stupid TSA agent didn't believe her that the now empty bottles were for milk and the pump was a PUMP and not some bomb or something.  So she goes into a bathroom with her three kids and pumps her milk to fill the bottles - at the sink, in a dress and heals (I'm impressed she was dressed for traveling!) - cause you can't really cram three kids into a bathroom stall, sit on a toilet and pump can you?  That would be horrible.  She then goes and proves to the TSA worker by showing them the bottles full of fresh milk that everything is on the up and up and she is allowed to get on the plane.

Let me tell you something girls...

That would be the day.

I heard this story and gave my husband plenty fair warning that this would not bode well for us if it happened to me,

"I'm telling you right now babe.  We would end up on the news.

Is that OK?"

(I always ask "permission" before being outrageous.  Like I did before I yelled at the stupid "Recall Scott Walker" people one day this fall when we were in Wisconsin.  

He is my husband and I don't want to embaress him but let's be real - he knows who he's married to!)

So here's the thing.  

I'm a semi-modest nurser. 

 I mean, I can't wear a blanket thingy cause my babies just HATE that but I am not whippin' my boob out for the world to see either.  It's not a crime to nurse... you lift the shirt, the baby latches on, no one can even see anything.  (People just get their panties in a bunch cause they KNOW what you are doing.)  A bathing suit shows more flesh than a discreetly nursing mom for goodness sake.  But on that day... on that day that a TSA worker is stupid enough to see me, with a baby and three other kids in tow and still wonder if I was a fricken' terrorist with a breast pump bomb - well that would be the day that Lucy and Ethel would make a VERY public appearance right there in line.  

I'd fill those d - - - bottles for the world to see!!!  

 At least then I could be arrested for a legitimate reason like "indecent exposure."

For-crying-out-loud.

Gotta love these classic scenes...pardon the french.

"Staycation" The Word I Hate.

This is not the post about how grateful I am for Hubbies job.  I've written those and I will again.

There are words I love...

"Vernacular"

"Abhor"

"Prefer"

And words I hate, mostly introduced into pop culture by some idiot ...

All texting acronyms...

&

"Bling"

"Cougar" 

&

"Staycation"

The very word makes me want to gag.

Can you tell by my last few posts (or lack of) that I am hot, crabby and pregnant.

And this week I get to be all those things with Hubby around.  (Poor Guy) He is taking his vacation time.

"Staycation" is some totally sh- - ty word that was made up by some jerk to make people feel good about not being able to afford to leave home for vacation.

Well, I don't feel good about it.

As a matter of fact, I think it SUCKS.

My husband works so dang hard...

SO physically HARD

and it's NEVER enough.

Ever.

I have put $100 worth of gas in my Suburban in the last seven days and you know where I have gone?

The grocery store,

My Moms,

The Midwife,

and garage saleing.... in my own town... twice.

Now it's easy to go on autopilot reading that but let me say that again...

ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS SPENT ON GAS!  We are being so desensitized!  That is a TON of money to get from point A to point B a handful of times!

Staycation... bah.

A friend recently asked me if I had the "honey-do" list ready to go and trust me... I've got one... and it's a mile long, especially with a baby on the horizon... but I can hardly bring myself to bring it up.

"Hey babe, I know you have the week off...

BUT could you...

Install the tile, toilet and sink in the downstairs bathroom, (cause if I have to walk upstairs to pee one more time I might have a hissy... oh wait, I've already had like three of those today... sorry),

Vacuum and tidy the basement,

While you're down there, move the washer and dryer over to the north wall and get rid of the "shower" hanging over the washing machine,

Paint Juliette's room,

Paint the new baby's room after we move all the crap in there down to the basement,

Paint the kitchen cause I don't think I can take one more day of "Provence Yellow"... 7 years is enough,

Help me pull some weeds,

Fix the two broken kitchen drawers,

Install a lock on the garden gate...

Oh and while you're at it,

my alcohol/blood level is dangerously low for such gorgeous summer weather.

Could you mix me up a pitcher of your fabulous margarita's for me to sip on into the evening??"

... oh wait, I'm super pregnant.  There will be know Frozen Rita's for me this summer.

Now, we haven't taken a real vacation in over seven years and I know, for a lot of people, it's been a lot longer than that.  This is not the time to lecture me about being a Princess - this Momma is already ticked enough.  I am well aware people are suffering around the world.

I'm no princess.  I grow a garden, have three kids, homeschool, drive 1997 vehicles and make my own laundry detergent for crying out loud.  ALL BY CHOICE mind you, I am not waving the "Poor Me" flag.  But I miss the days of a REAL vacation (IE: Paris, Florida, St. Martin and the Thorp House Bed and Breakfast - not the kind where you

rent a cottage and cook all your own meals and feel guilty about the ones that you don't.

This economy "sucks".

As icky as it is I LOVE THAT WORD too but never get to employ it on account of My Chickens.

I feel as though we are all being programmed to be happy  doing with less.  As if it's some crime to want a better life than the one you had as a child, that it's a crime to want to go on vacation, like you should feel bad about it cause some idiot in Washington can't figure out what a BUDGET is!!!  Doing with less is fine... if it's my choice.  We are not big consumers anyways and proud of it!  I may love fashion, makeup and designing my home and I love coming up with ways to do all that for less...  WHEN IT'S MY CHOICE... not because it cost's $5 to buy healthy milk for my kids and $15 for my husband to drive to and home from work every day.

My SIL was just griping in my comment box about the fact that there is really no "saving" of money with all this frugal-do-yourself cooking and shopping we do.  She is so right.  I may make my own detergent but it's not so I can pocket the money to SAVE (what's that??) for a rainy day... or a real vacation for that matter.  It's because buying Tide would probably brake us!

Oh, I suppose I should feel bad for wanting a bigger family too... after all, us procreators don't exactly fit into "green" cars... and we make a lot of dirty laundry.

Which all comes back to my longing for a REAL vacation... me and hubby in a lawn chair, munchkins frolicking in the surf... maybe even a decadent cousin brought along to babysit while we go out at night...

Staycation... BAH!

You know what "Staycation" means for Momma???

It means 

"Stay doing what you were doing*."

Which reminds me, the laundry needs to be moved along and I guess I'll go make dinner now.

*Thanks Mom for the hilarious definition while we were on the phone the other night!

P.O.ed at the P.O.

Here's my heads up:  This post reveals the more "crass" side of me.

Here's my confession:

I hate going to the Post Office.  

I would rather pump gas, run out for diapers... even vacuum.

It's one of those errands that just seems monumental
to me even though I know it shouldn't be a big deal.

Our Post Office is maybe three miles away but the traffic to get there is hellashious.  

Is that how you spell that?
H-E-L-L-A-S-H-I-O-U-S.
None of the good words show up in spell check.

I swear it takes 15 minutes to get there.

I could probably ride my bike there faster.
That is, if I could bring my knees up that close to my chest.

I am now at that stage where it takes me five minutes to put on and tie my shoes.
I'm left panting for lack of lung space.

So I finally carved out a moment to ship some Parisienne Farmhouse goods out and was on my way to my "favorite" government run business.
The line was small, surprisingly.
The ensuing hassle was not.  Un-surprisingly.

I grabbed a stack of flat rate boxes (that I normally try to keep around the house) and began to address and pack them at the "looser" counter.  It's the looser counter because it's set up RIGHT where people stand in line and you feel like such a looser standing there addressing, folding, packing and taping, right in everyones way... the line getting longer by the moment.  Thankfully this time I remembered my own packing tape because
GOD FORBID
 the Post Office tape the top of your package shut should you forget it.  If you forget your tape they treat you like a leper... as if YOU'RE the reason the United States Post Office is broke -

You irresponsible tape hog you!

As I was going about my looser business I could not help but overhear the transaction going on between the one of two agents available (Two counters out of eight open!).  Even though my back was turned, it was obvious what was going on...

Agent:  "You need to write the address on this package."

Silence.

Agent: "This is just a taped on customs form.  What if it comes off?  You need to write the address on the package."

Silence.

Agent:  "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ME DO YOU?
YOU NEED TO WRITE THE ADDRESS ON THE PACKAGE!
WHAT IF THIS FORM GETS RIPPED OFF?!
WHAT LANGUAGE DO YOU SPEAK?"


Customer:  "Russian."

Agent (Doing her best to now completely humiliate this young man):
"WHAT HAPPENS IF THIS FORM FALLS OFF!  THE ADDRESS NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN ON THE PACKAGE!"


Customer hopelessly shrugs his shoulders.

By now I've turned around and taken my place in line watching this disgusting display of humanity going on.  I wanted to slap the bitch.  She could have just done it for him, it would have taken her thirty seconds.  But no, this was her shining moment.
 To shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame him.

What is it that happens to people when they think that
SCREAMING AT SOMEONE 
is going to cause some sort of linguistic, epiphanal moment???
I mean good night, when was the last time you flipped on Telemundo, wondered what the scantily clad telenovela star was saying, grabbed your remote and turned it up full blast only to miraculously completely understand the story line?


NO HABLA ESPANOL!


I'm sure we have all done it, raised our voice so someone would hopefully understand us.  Let's just agree, here and now to NEVER do it again.  (If I have never mentioned it before, I HATE it when people speak loudly.  I aggravates the crap out of me, I am mortified when I do it and thoroughly irritated when anyone speaks louder than needed.  We, especially women, only need to speak loud enough so that the person we are talking to can here us, there is NO NEED to project into the next room or twenty feet away for that matter.  How about a little self awareness???)

I digress.
 As I often do.

Look, I am not saying the kid shouldn't need to be able to speak English.  It aggravates the CRAP out of me when people don't know the basics of our language.  I mean, do we really have to print the word for "tampon" in Spanish on the Tampax box?  I think if you live in this country and can't walk into Target and figure out how to attend to your basic feminine needs in ENGLISH than you've got bigger problems than white jeans.  But there is NO REASON to belittle another human being in public with your loud, big, condescending yapper if they don't happen to understand you.  I was a good twenty five feet away from her or else I don't know if I could have controlled my own yapper I wanted to tell her to shut up so badly.

I stood there praying she would not be the one ringing me up.
God always answers prayers...
He says, "Not right now",  "No" and "Yes".
I got my answer as she barked,

"Next!"

Ok Lord, what are you trying to teach me now?

I held my tongue over her previous behavior and I handed her my three self-taped boxes,  and the first two where no problem, "Where is this one going" she asks.  Um, not only are you loud but you're apparently geographically challenged too - it said,
"United Kingdom"  
You work at the post office - shouldn't you know where that is?
I proceed to explain and she cut me off, "Did you fill out customs paperwork?"
Well, no I didn't, I don't ship overseas, it's not a figgen' sofa, it's a dish, so no, customs paperwork didn't cross my mind - I was too busy being appalled at your behavior to the poor Russian kid.

So you guessed it.  I had to get out of line and go back to the looser counter.  She said it was TONS of paperwork.
It was TWO addresses and the value of the contents.

Apparently I don't do well in public.
I'm crabby, I'm hot, I'm pregnant.
I'd rather be vacuuming.
My blood was beginning to boil.

I stood in line...
AND GOT HER AGAIN!


Now what I didn't mention was that I wasn't going to originally ship "the dish" to the mysterious, other-side-of-the-world United Kingdom.  I was simply going to get a price for the shipping but while originally standing in line I saw the sign over the flat rate boxes...

"Convenient Flat Rate Shipping Worldwide"


...Now this happened a few days ago, so I may be a little off on the exact wording of the sign but it had the word "convenient" and the last four words where "Flat Rate Shipping Worldwide".
I read it a couple times and thought,
"No way! That is so incredible!  Worldwide?  Really?"
So I read it again, and again and then grabbed a box big enough to hold this dish... fast forward back to me in line with my customs form.

She rings up the first two packages, then rings up my dish to the land of William and Katherine... my ten dollar flat rate box rings up FORTY FIVE DOLLARS.  So, I say,
"Whoa, it says "Flat Rate Shipping Worldwide" and she says,
"That's domestic, this is overseas."

Miss can't speak Russian.

Stupid me, as if I am going to win this fight,
"But WORLDWIDE means overseas."

Agent: "No, the flat rate is for the domestic price."

Me:  "Then WHY does it say FLAT-RATE...WORLDWIDE???"

She just stares back at me.
Like, get out of here you idiot.
 Don't question the Post Office.

I snatched the box off the scale and snarled,
"Forget it!"
I wanted to rip her smug face off.
I wanted to "Go Postal."
I had to get out of there fast.
So I ripped my debit card thru the machine, I am surprised there was a magnetic strip left. Pounded in my pin and hightailed it out of there drawing on every iota of self control in my body lest I make a complete
HARPY
of myself.

I don't speak Russian.
I don't speak Spanish.
Apparently, I can't read and comprehend English.

Did I mention I hate the Post Office?
Grrrrrrrrr.....

Blue.

That's my color.

I am tired of the gray, tired of the white. 

 Tired of salt, tired of dirty, slushy snow.

I feel blue.  

I keep trying to fight it and it keeps creeping back.  

Sigh.

Hubby is gone 5 nights a week,

it get's dark at 4:30... 

I need to play in the dirt, feel the heat on my back as I pull weeds, pluck a berry from the vine and smell summer rain in the air.  

This just isn't right.

Startin' to feel like a prison.  

Gonna take all my clothes off and run down the street naked as a Jay Bird that one weird 65 degree day we always get in February.

Kidding.

But don't tempt me.

Wisdom Eclipsed

A Rant.

Good news... I took of the "snow effect" that I loved so much for all you girls with dinosaur P.C.'s.  I was told it took 10 minutes for my blog to load tonight... :)  Bad news... Watch Ang's readers drop... it's become a game now hasn't it?  About every four weeks I go off on something and all that ground I was gaining in my readership... insert bomb dropping whistling sound here...

LOL.

I have wanted to tell you for so many weeks now about a T-shirt I saw in the young girls section at Tar-jay around Halloween...

"I Heart Vampires."

I wish I was kidding.

I Heart friggen' Vampires.

Unreal.

Now, have you seen my daughters?  Have you seen YOUR daughters?  Your grand-daughters?  Have you seen how precious, gorgeous and pure they (hopefully) are?

Forgive me, call me a prude or stick-in-the-mud, this time, I truly don't care because the last thing our daughters, the daughters in this country where so many go to bed without a Daddy in the house, where so many are raised without knowing how much their Heavenly Daddy loves them... the last thing our girls... or ANYONE'S girls need is this stupid vampire/death obsession that is so chic at the moment.

I know, I have lost a good 85% of you here.  

Je suis trés desolée.  

But this whole vampire thing has eclipsed sanity, it's eclipsed discretion and most surely wisdom. 

The Bible clearly warns that there will be a time when darkness will be called light and visa versa but, silly me, I would like to think that some common sense would prevail out there as we select what we do and don't allow into our homes, especially concerning our daughters.  How in the world did we decide that it was good for our pre-teen and teenage daughters to become obsessed with Vampires?  As if our girls aren't already struggling with a glorification of DEATH?  Have you seen the teen girls suicide rates these days?  I know my family lost one 4 years ago and almost lost another two years ago!!!

 If you are someone who claims the Scriptures to be true and I know that some of my readers do then surely we have to head it's warnings on the occult and glorification of death.  My rant gear is ready to kick into overdrive so I am going to back it down here and say I guess I don't have too much to say except this, if you are a Believer and have found your self NOT sickened by this whole trend, if you find my words "over the top" than perhaps, oh gosh, I am really going to say this??  Well, may I challenge you that you've become a bit desensitized by the culture???  Promise me Momma's and Gramma's you're not gonna buy the young girls in your life this crap for Christmas.  PROMISE ME! How, tell me, how in the world can the glorification of blood sucking teenagers be something our precious daughters need to process, read and become obsessed with???

Riddle me that.

  (If you are new to P.F. yes, I do rant on some of my spiritual, policitcal views now and again... I love to joke that it's what makes me a bit unique from all the other gorgeous lavender and to-die-for vintage fabric blogs out there!  Momma says, "If they don't like it they can find another Farmhouse"... I say... I'm just trying to give you something to chew on in this world full of icky, babyfood, mush.)

Oh, of course I found this hilarious clip by my (if you don't already know) favorite pastor concerning this subject... hear 'im out... mute Charlie Brown way down towards the bottom.

How to Use a French Press

This post contains affiliate links.   
Thank you for shopping Amazon thru Parisienne Farmgirl. 
 I only recommend product that I personally use myself.



It was requested that I give specific instructions 

on how to use a French Press so... why not?

1.  Choose your coffee!  I recommend Trader Joe's Organic French Roast or Starbuck's Café Verona
2.  For a full Press measure out four generous tablespoons of coffee beans.
3.  Grind coffee - Not to big...
4.  But just right... you don't want the grounds too small or they will escape thru the mesh!
5.  Pour it into your empty Press.
6.  Boil your water - small boil
7.  Carefully pour the water in, it will look like really strong tea.
8.  Stir your grounds in, I do about twenty twirls with the closest thing I can grab, usually a butter knife.
9.  Put the lid on, but do not push it down, put a clean dish towel thru the handle
10. Wrap one side over the other, this will keep your coffee warm as you enjoy it
11.  Wait about 4 minutes and press your coffee with a flat palm, it should press down with just a little resistance.  If you have to really push, your coffee is not ready to be pressed.
12.  ENJOY!!!

We switched years ago to a French Press.  I take it with me to families homes, on vacation, I even fill a mug and carry French pressed coffee into restaurants (I also bring my own wine glass to tastings :)  I will NEVER own a conventional coffee pot again.  This is how coffee is supposed to taste.  
French Presses are available in a variety of prices from the coveted le Creuset to the affordable, if not still decadent Bodom.  If you are ready to make the change that will rock your morning routine here is a selection to chose from. 

 Sterling Pro $33.85

Grosche $33.19

Bodum Chambord (My personal favorite) $42.90

And the one I really want, le Creuset $59.90

Black Coffee

"Black Coffee, blue morning, toast is burning and the rain keeps pouring..."

There is nothing like coffee.

It is a little pleasure that every morning brings.
Black preferably... sometimes, as a treat, with a splash of organic, warm milk...

I know some don't care for it but at some point in life, for most of us coffee becomes an acquired taste.
Acidic, hot and most importantly... strong.

Years ago we switched to a French Press.  If you have never had French Pressed coffee you are missing out.  It's the way coffee is supposed to taste.

There are a few things that ruin a good cup of coffee for me...

-If it's too cold

-If it's too weak

-If it has a flavor - yes, sadly, I h-a-t-e flavored coffee.   The smell grosses me out and when I am expecting (I am not) it makes me ill.  Along the same line, I don't care for Foldgers cause it has a "taste" and so does Panera's coffee, though I drink it a couple times a month as there is a Panera in our back 40.

(Speaking of coffee flavors; many years back I decided to wean myself off of the syrup flavors when ordering coffee treats like lattés.  My favorite was caramel, I liked Hazelnut too.  Nowadays I love plain lattés.  And though it's cliché; Starbucks makes the best and there are few delights as delicious as a skinny, decaf latté from Starbucks... had to give up caffeine on account of the babes.  I do however love an iced carmel Machiato once a year...skinny, decaf and easy ice and carmel!)

Ok, that was a whole bunch of info I hadn't intended to share.

Something I am really particular about... and can you believe it?
Me?
 Particular?

But I've got to have a white cup/mug to really enjoy my coffee.

Seriously, I am not kidding.
I've just got have a white cup otherwise I can not get into it no matter how good the coffee tastes.  It's a family thing, I can remember as a child, my Grampa asking the waitress for a white mug if she brought him one of those ugly brown ones so popular in the 80's...
You can go into any woman's home in our family and you will be offered a white cup for your coffee... never a big colorful mug.  Always simple and (primarily) white.  There is just something about it.  Now that Panera has switched to yellow, green and orange mugs... well, I bring my own!

It's all about the moment.
(There is certain silverware I use that makes me happy, Silly is as silly does but I've even been known to bring my own glass to wine tastings)... a girl's just got to be able to have her moment.
 And a cup of coffee provides you get those moments where you get to sit for just a few before your day gets going...
 and you can't let anything ruin that.

What are your "moments" that you create for yourself?
Are you particular?
&
 How do you take your coffee?

Joel calls me picky... I say I just know what I like!
Gotta run, Coffee is ready to press.
Bon Weekend Mes Amies!


P.S.  Did you know that this old 1980's song by Lacy J. Dalton is one of my FAVORITE to sing? I wish I had a recording to play for you - that would be a riot.
 And you CAN NOT go wrong with a little Julie London!!!

To Answer a Question in the Comment box-
I love Café Verona by Starbucks and yes, we do grind our own beans.
For a more reasonably priced coffee we purchase Organic French Roast from Trader Joe's.

A Pink Martini Rendez-vous

My life is lacking two things in particular lately; Joel and Music.  

Date night simply does not happen in the Parisienne Farmhouse.  You have to be able to afford a sitter and the entertainment let alone your bills before you can even think of date night.  Our last date was last November.  

Ouch.

But, when the Ravinia calendar came in the mail this past spring I scanned it for fav's like the Gypsy Kings and Allison Krause and instead my eyes landed upon "Pink Martini" for Sunday, June 21st.  We were all in the kitchen and upon taking it in I began to jump up and down like a 17 year old pleading with Daddy to buy her a prom dress, "Please take me to Pink Martini, Please Please Please take me to see Pink Martini!!!!"  The look on Aidan's face was sheer amusement and the look on Joel's was one of "Oh crap, I see no way out of this one."

But a way came.  I got a call to do a Baptism photo shoot and attached to it was a $300 paycheck.  I had to say yes and "au revoir" to seeing, next to Paris Combo, my favorite group and my favorite venue:  Ravinia Festival.

Then the call a few weeks ago, the mom of the baby had become ill and the ceremony had to be reschedule for later this summer.  I called Mamie (One Gram) to see if  she could sit et...voila, things began to fall into place.  Including a little extra cash that could be irresponsibly used for a date night!!!  WOO-HOO!

If you have never been to Ravinia Festival and you live anywhere within 1oo miles of Chicago you are really missing out.  And, if you will be traveling to Chicago anytime during the summer you must make it a priority for no matter who the evenings entertainement is, Ravinia is a magical place.

Pink Martini just happened to make it even more magical.  

All the "man" things fell into place, the typically horrendous traffic on Lake Cook Road was very light and with only an hour til curtain we drove right into the seemingly empty lot with no problems or delays.  Joel was thrilled and I was relieved to see him begin to de-stress.

We found a wonderful patch of grass, (in fact the same spot where we sat with Aidan as a newborn four years ago to hear Allison Krauss) and we set up our picnic.  Olives, Double Cream wonderful Blue Cheese, Sushi like California rolls, Fois Gras, a Baguette with a Shiraz and Creme Brulee thawing in the cooler bag for dessert our table was decked with a vintage tablecloth and a candelabra on loan from Mom.  It was out of a dream but a kind older lady chastised me for remembering everything but the fresh flowers.  I was mortified.  She was so right, with a garden full of them how could I forget???

Our little spread brought so much attention as for some reason the evening seemed to be low on romantic glamour when I scanned the thousands of other picnics.  People have been known to go ALL OUT for Ravinia but we seemed to have the best tablescape around.  We counted at least 30 people that commented to their spouse or complimented us as they walked by.  Three or four even took our photo.  We didn't care, we were in a world all our own.  Let me explain,

Have you even gone on a date with your spouse and you know it's going to be the last one for awhile and there is that pressure to give compliments and be "romantic".  

Gag.

  It's a disaster every time.  Well, miracles do happen because there was none of that Sunday night for us.  Everything was perfect.  With all the stress of the last two years and the recent stress on our family from Momma being such a wreck  - well, we needed Sunday night.

Michaell Fienstein was the opening act.  WOW.  He sang the most wondeful arrangements of Frank Sinatra songs and then we waited for Pink Martini and it seemed like we waited and waited.  I was beginning to get tired.  Then, to satisfy the crowd Michael Fienstein and Thomas Lauderdale from P.M. came out and played a little ditty they have worked on earlier in the day: Rhapsody in Blue.  

HELLO?  It just so happened they each knew it and could perform it flawlessly for us "spur of the moment"  - Double WOW.

Moments after they were done, Pink Martini took the stage and opened with...BOLERO!  The lighting was blue and mysterious (I walked to the Pavillion to see one of my all time favorite songs being played that's how I could see) and the song did not disappoint.  Bolero has been a favorite song for me since my dad introduced it to me as a child down in the basement on our record player.  I would listen to it over and over again.  But to hear it live...sheer magic.

And our course that was the beginning of a night under the stars for us.  We held hands and only broke our grasp to applaud with vigor!!!  Pink Martini is the most incredible bunch of talent from Bolero to their encore; Brazil, I don't think the smile, I mean it made my face hurt smile ever left my face.  Chyna is exactly the kind of singer I wanted to be, singing exactly the kind of music I wanted to sing.  It's amazing to watch her work.

I have put a sampling of their music on my playlist way down at the bottom of the screen and have a great live performance of the song "Una notte a Napoli" for you here.  Thanks for reading about our wonderful evening and if you didn't love Pink Martini before hopefully after a few minutes you will!!!  You may want to scroll to the bottom of my screen to hit "pause" on the playlist.

Friday Finds and Parisienne Farmgirl's GARAGE SALE ETIQUETTE!!!!

Oh man did we hit the jackpot this morning!  Joel was home (that sounds good but it's really not) and he chaufered us around for two hours in the stormy, rainy, tornado watch ridden weather.  The family would stay in the car while I would jump out and make my purchases in between lightening bolts!!!  What a riot!

You haven't been garage "saleing" til you have been with my son, he sit's in the car and yells loud enough for everyone to hear, "Is it junk Mom or is it a good one?"  If I get back in the car empty handed and say, "It was junk baby" he say's "Why people got junky stuff?"

Being so sick the last few weeks I have not posted about some other goodies a couple Friday's ago so I am going to try to catch up - and lest I forget, yesterday I walked to a local rummage sale and found some goodies too!  My non-puking moments are beginning to outnumber by puking ones - PRAISE THE LORD!

This morning was really a hit though, I spent no more than $17 on the following items: Walkie Talkies for Aidan (we had been wanting to get those for him for months), a "vintage" walker for this next baby - should be a riot on our wood floors, a new clamp on seat for the dining room table, a tomato cage, a tri-pod for my camera, a whole handful of wonderful kitchen knives, spatulas, a can opener (blue none-the-less and we NEEDED one, we have been opening our cans with a Swiss army knife for the last couple weeks), 3 yellow Pyrex ramekins, two sa-weet chartreuse colored pillows, and a "big boy" bike for Aidan, an adorable dress for when LeeLee is older, and a hat for her next winter...good grief it was amazing!!!  SEVENTEEN DOLLARS PEOPLE!!!

So, I'll show you some photos of these goodies and the rummage sale ones and the ones from a few weeks ago and then allow me to disertate on Garage Sale Etiquette! 

First of all, I found this tule skirt for 5o Cents a few weeks ago...I love tule and now I have one black (hanging as my powder room curtain) and one white.  I LOVE Marilyn and always have and I also love to recreate photographs - after this baby I am going to recreate the famous Milton Greene photograph of M.M. using an old vintage dress with this tule underneath - get out my signature red Christian Dior lip gloss, a black sheet and the pin curls!!!  Sounds like a fun afternoon while the kids are sleeping next spring!!!  I still love to play dress up.  

I don't know what those bead games are called but our midwife had one and Aidan LOVED it. Aren't they pretty "expensive"? I got this one for two dollars a few weeks ago and the kids play with it ALL THE TIME!!!
I got those clothes for Amélie for 75 cents a few weeks ago too plus a winter play coat and boots for $2 and a bunch of other cute/tacky embroidered jeans for a quarter each. If she never slims out enough to fit into them - big loss. At the same sale I found Aidan a basket ball hoop for the driveway and this pirate lego boat, $2 and $5. We had prayed for a basket ball hoop and legos before we left the house!!!!  I hate it when you put text too close to a photo and it does this underline thing!!!! I can't get rid of it!!!  Oh BTW, that is a $70 bike for $3 - shocks and all.  

The chartreuse pillows.  50 cents a piece.  BONJOUR!!!

The perfectly clean snap on seat.  Now we don't have to move the one from the kitchen back and forth to eat in the dining room and next year when we need two - VOILA.  $3.

Mon amie Francoise always serves her Ratatouille in orange personal Le Creuset ramekins.  So these aren't the little blue Le Creusets that I dream of and there were only three BUT they were 50 cents TOTAL.  BTW she serves her with a layer of broiled goat cheese on the top.  When my garden gets going I swear I will share the recipe!!!

The rummage sale stash - $7 total.  Domes for cakes and cheese plates, a small jar for homemade instant gratification jam (Joie de Vivre cookbook) and a HUGE one for Gardinara this fall!  Our family goes through Gardinara like crazy - I will share that recipe too!!!  Oh, and of course, a pitcher with lid for le citronade this summer.  Pure sugar, lemons,water and ice cubes on a hot, steam day.

"Little Buttchop this is Big Momma, You got a copy?"

So she won't wear it for 3-4 more years.  I am a sucker for sailor dresses, especially when they are mint and $1.

And now,  the Parisienne Farmgirl's Guide for Garage Sale Etiquette...

 ON SIGNS-

Look, all your signs need to match O.K.?  Nothing is more frustrating than turning the car on its side to make a quick left or right when a sign is spotted thus missing all the text but only noting the color or design of the sign...next thing you know you are driving, and driving and you spot another sign but it looks different...do you follow it?  Is it for the same sale or do you stay the course???

USE AN ARROW!  Since most of us can not read your "handwriting" and you insist on using the SMALLEST SHARPIE in your drawer - at least put a fricken' arrow on your sign!!!!

If your house is located in a twisting and turning and twisting and turning neighborhood please put more than ONE sign on the main drag and one in front of your house.  NOTHING is more discouraging than driving and driving wondering if your sale actually exists.

Take the dang sign down after the sale so I am not making the above mistakes two weekends in a row.

ON YOUR MERCHANDISE-

If it would look better on a burn pile, please do not try to sell it to me.

Please get over yourself with the pricing.  I am garage saleing for a reason.  I know you are trying to make a buck and I appreciate that.  But don't insult me.  I will reciprocate when you come to my sale.

Mark your fricken antiques "garage sale" prices.  If you want $95 for a small ugly end table than go rent a booth at the local antique mall.

Please do not just pull out a bunch of boxes out onto your driveway.  I can't see what's in them as I  drive by and usually it's just a bunch of junk anyways.  See burn pile.

ON SHOPPING MY SALE-

No early birds means, guess what, DON'T SHOW UP IN MY DRIVEWAY AT 6:55 WHEN I AM PULLING ALL MY CRAP OUT AND TRYING TO NURSE AT THE SAME TIME!

Don't ask me for 50% off an item at 8:30 in the morning on the first day of the sale.

Don't pick up my crusty, lovely stained glass window and inquire, "Is this old?"  - Moron.

Don't flick your cigarette butts in my driveway.  I'll flick them back at you.

DO NOT ask me to lower my price on something and THEN HAND ME A TWENTY!!!!

Stop asking me if I have any gold I want to sell.  

Get your kids away from my fountain and pond.  I am having a garage sale, clearly I can't afford your law suit.

If you are coming to my sale, please put on deodorant.

There you have it.  Call me uncharitable but I can only take so much.  Until next Friday that is...

What did you score this week???