Jennie Goutet's Blog: A Lady in France, page 27

Beauty Comes from Inner Peace

I mentioned that it was a busy period for me, and that part of my stress was the Women’s Day our church was holding in Paris (which was yesterday, by the way, appropriately set on the International Day for Women). I was responsible for the comic sketch for the event, and I’ve included the script at the bottom for your amusement.

But it was funny because it didn’t even register with me what the title meant. I was so void of inner peace, my eyes were bloodshot (allergies?), my body was weak and I had almost no voice left by the end of the weekend. (In addition to the Women’s Day, I also had to teach Saturday and Sunday morning, and I drove into Paris for a Message parenting event on Saturday night to showcase my books and didn’t get home until midnight. Today I’m taking it really easy and plan to get groceries, clean a little and take a nap.

The speakers were good. We had two people sharing their story – Catherine, who’s firstborn has autism, shared about her struggle to get him a proper education. She had to call ten schools just to find one who would take him, despite the supposed French law that all children have the right to be educated. I think it’s safe to say that France is behind America in this area. She also shared about how much she struggled with guilt (wondering if she had caused the problem), and how much their marriage went through a trial. The story has a happy ending, and she learned inner peace through this trial.

We also had Lesa Stringer, the former Canadian olympic champion for bobsled. She shared about being bitten by a dog when she was two, and how it left a permanent scar on her face. She thought that her life would be limited – that she would never get to model, for instance – but she still dreamed of going to the Olympics, and that dream did come true. Years later, she is now an olympic spokesperson and was recently also asked to model. Yes – there are no limitations where God is concerned.

Because this was a Women’s Day for church, the message was fundamentally spiritual. Fabienne talked about Galatians 5:22, and how “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.” Before a tree can bear fruit, it needs to build deep roots. But when the roots bury deep and can draw sufficient nourishment, then all sorts of beautiful fruit appears. Love, peace, patience, etc. When Fabienne told of her heartbreak in losing her brother to suicide – a heartbreak which I could intimately relate to – she shared about how the inner peace eventually won out over the anger and grief.

She said that inner peace looks like this. (Image below). A storm is raging, but is the guardian hiding away in the lighthouse? No. He’s got his hands in his pockets – probably whistling. (By the way, this image is for sale, but it’s a little out of my price range or I would buy it. Gorgeous, isn’t it?) The storms can rage, but we are unafraid. That is beautiful.

***

This week I still have the twitter pitch for my book, and I have my French test to become a citizen on Friday. My husband is crazy-busy with his work (working until midnight) and not as available as usual. And we’re waiting for documents to arrive for our loans and for my citizenship that we really need and have absolutely no control over … life is not super peaceful right now. But it could be worse. And I’m gonna be like that guy up there.

Below are the words to the skit we performed. My original text was much improved upon by the women acting the parts. And they frenchified the language too (I was lazy and used google translate, changing only the most glaring errors – they did the rest). So this only is a glimmer of the giggles they produced. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The Sketch: “Bonjour Docteur”

A doctor is sitting behind a small table on the stage with another chair next to it. There are six chairs in the waiting room, and each one is filled with a patient waiting to be seen.

Doctor:                                    Okay, first up.

Eugene                   (sits down and demands urgently). I want you to write a letter to my plastic surgeon saying I’m allowed to have more plastic surgery. I’ve had my eyes lifted. I increased five cup sizes here (points to chest), which they sucked right out of here (points to butt). But now – one side of my face is frozen, and I can only smile on this side. How much longer do you think this will last? Because I need to have another surgery scheduled.

(she sits down and takes out mirror) I’m still far from Monica

Doctor:                  Monica who?

Eugene:                  Bellucci! And Angelina

Doctor:                  Angelina who?

Eugene:                  (disgusted) Jolie! And Marilyn! (stands up and makes the Marilyn Monroe universal gesture).

Doctor:                  I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Perhaps we should talk about why you feel this need to improve your outward appearance.

Eugene                    Are you serious? Well, yes … I can see why you might have given up hope. (Women in the waiting room are listening to everything and look outraged). But I still have hope of retaining my beauty. I must have it. I will have it.

(Looks in the mirror and notices a grey hair). (screams) Oh no! A grey hair! (Pulls out a box of Loréal hair dye and starts putting on the gloves and shaking the bottle).

Doctor                    I’m sorry, this might not be the best place for that.

Eugene                    Oh! Oh. You’re right. Where are the restrooms?

Doctor                    Can’t it wait until you get home?

Eugene                    And appear on the subway with a grey hair??!! If you have that letter ready, I’ll be on my way.

Doctor                    I have something better than a letter … (writes something)

Eugene                    (reads) Ezekiel 16:14 The splendor I had given you made your beauty perfect, declares the Sovereign Lord.

Wait. There is a surgeon for splendor? Where I can I get some of that splendor surgery? (Walks out determined).

Doctor                    Who’s next? What can I do for you?

Danila:                    (Sitting down). I’m so sorry that complete nutcase insulted you in that way. She really has some major issues. Okay. So I’m here because I would like to get some help for my kid.

Doctor:                       What seems to be the problem?

Danila:                    (Pause) My kid is stupid.

Doctor:                      Oookay. Uh, why do you think that?

Danila:                    Well, first of all, he didn’t walk until he was almost 20 months. Can you believe that? And now, he’s 4 years old and he still wears diapers at night. And he doesn’t know his letters yet. I mean, I try and go through them with him, but he just stares at me and picks his nose. At this rate, he’s never going to get elected president!

Doctor:                      He’s only four. I think you’re maybe a little hard on him.

Danila:                    No! No I am sure I am not. I do everything I can to make sure he is perfect. I sit next to him. I watch his every move. I correct every single he does to make sure he’s growing up properly. And what happens? He has completely stopped talking! He doesn’t say a word! He just sits there without moving. Stupidly.

Doctor:                                    You might be over-thinking the situation, Madame. Kids need room to grow and make mistakes. Take a look at this. (Writes)

Danila:                    Mark 10:14 Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.

Except my kid wouldn’t go. He would just sit there. Stupidly. (Shakes head and walks off).

Doctor:                                    (Breathes deeply). Next!

Ann:                         Did you hear that woman? She’s going to ruin her kid. Ruin him, I tell you. I don’t know why she’s so panicky over what sounds like a perfectly normal kid to me.

(Pulls out calculator). How much is this visit going to cost me? Because I’ve already spent 4,30€ just for the subway ride, and I got a blister in my shoes from walking too far to get here and I had to pay 6,70€ for a box of bandaids …

Doctor:                   You seem to be very worried about money.

Ann:                          Well wouldn’t you be worried with a husband like mine? I gave him a grocery list, calculated to the last centime. Did he follow the list? Of course not! He got three things that were not on the list. Do you know what that does to our food budget for the month? Do you?

Ann:                          And look, look here. (shows ledger notebook) I track everything. Everything! Does he even know what we’re spending every month? Does he even care?

Doctor:                   Well, do you have a savings plan? You know, for a rainy day?

Ann:                          We have (and here she lists all the French saving plans possible) un livret A, un livret de développement durable, un livret d’épargne populaire, un compte épargne logement, un plan épargne logement, un plan d’épargne retraite populaire, un compte à terme, un livret jeune …

Doctor:                   (Surprised, because it means a savings plan for kids) Un livret jeune ?

Ann:                          Who cares about age? One can never save enough!

Doctor:                   Well, I think if you have a savings account and … do you have insurance ?

Ann:                          Of course we have insurance. It costs a fortune, but you never know. (Lists all the insurance plans there are in France). Assurance vie, assurance décès, assurance maladie, assurance automobile, assurance habitat, assurance incendies, assurance vols, assurance vieillesse, assurance retraite, assurance annulation…

Doctor:                   Assurance annulation ? Do you have plans to travel?

Ann:                          Maybe, Maybe. I haven’t calculated all the expenses.

Doctor:                   Alright. I have the best insurance of all. Here. Let me write you a prescription.

Ann:                          (reading) Matthew 6:24-25 Do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them.

You must not be a very good doctor. I’m not really worried about what I eat or drink. I just need to make sure I have enough money to buy food!

Doctor:                  (sighs) Alright, who’s next?

Jennie:                     Oh, she’s so lucky to have health insurance. We’ve been rejected from three different insurance companies because of supposed “abuse.”

(Leans in) By the way, what kind of doctor are you? Are you, like, a real doctor? Because I’ve had this pain in my side for the last week. It’s on the left side – you know, where the heart is … and I think I’m dying. And I can’t die yet!

Doctor:                                    No? … why not?

Jennie:                     I have to lose weight first. (Sees the doctor’s incomprehension). Or they won’t be able to carry the casket!

Doctor:                         (Hides smile for the first time).

Jennie:                     I can’t ask my regular doctor if I am dying. I had to get rid her because she was too beautiful. I mean, I can’t let my husband to go see her. (Looks critically at the doctor). You should do just fine.

Anyway. When the pain comes over me I get a shortness of breath, and I feel these spasms come over me. My great-aunt died because she choked on a chicken bone. Do you think a chicken bone is lodged in my throat without my knowing it? (gets very close and opens mouth wide)

And sometimes my eyelid flutters. I read on Web MD that this could indicate a stroke. I have my cell phone on automatic speed dial for SOS in case I should feel the first signs of a stroke coming on. The only thing is … it keeps accidentally dialing the number when I put the phone in my purse, and they ended up blocking my number so I won’t bother them anymore. And now I’m out in the world all alone with no insurance and no access to the firemen!

Doctor:                     I’m going to give you a prescription that will help. She writes a few words on a pad.

Jennie:                     (Reading) Matthew 6:27 Who of you, by worrying can add a single hour to his life? You mean I can’t even add a single hour?

(Wails loudly) OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE! (She rushes off.)

Doctor:                        Uh … who’s next?

Sabrina:                 Oh my gosh it’s about time! I have been waiting forever while that psycho talked your ear off, and it’s not as if I have nothing to do! Blah blah blah pain in my side blah blah blah.

Doctor:           Yes, but you! Why are you here?

Sabrina:          (whispers) I’m afraid to fall in love.

Doctor:           (loudly) You’re afraid to fall in love?

Sabrina:          Shhh! No. Well, you know it’s just that the entire male race cannot be trusted. They’re after just one thing. (Hisses). SEX! And when they get it? They’re out of there so fast they leave skid marks! Not one of them can be trusted. Not one.

Doctor:                  That’s a rather blanket statement to make …

Sabrina:                 And then … they don’t seem to like me? I mean they are an undeserving race as a whole. I try to tell them what to do. I tell them how they can improve – you know, to be a real man! I tell them how to cut their hair, how to get a better job, how to sit up at the table. But they never ask me out on a second date. I’m going to die an old maid!

Doctor:                  Perhaps instead of trying to improve them, you could get to be their friend just the way they are.

Sabrina:                 (Stutters) And risk accidentally falling in love with them while they’re still unfinished? What if the hair in their ears starts to grow long? I’ll have to wash their socks for the rest of my life!

Doctor:                  (Writes) Take this.

Sabrina:                 (Reading) 1 Peter 3:1-2 Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives when they see the purity and reverence of your lives.

But … I’m not married yet. (throws the paper and stalks off)

Alberte:                 (Mutters under her breath). Yes and if you continue that way, you might never be. Next!

Marie-Jo:               (Looks around). Has this place been decontaminated? I noticed that there’s no security cameras and anyone can slip through. Any lunatic. Do you realize how fragile we all are? At any minute a meteor can come hurtling through the sky and smash us all to smithereens. We’re hanging on by the slimmest thread!

Doctor:                  I see that you are upset and worried about many things.

Marie-Jo:               Well yeah! I cross my threshold three times each time I want to go outside. I go out. I go in. Did I turn off the gas? I go out. I go in. Did I turn off the water? I go out. I go in. Did I leave my keys hanging on the door?

And I wear gloves even when it’s 40° out. Every ten steps I look up in the sky for falling objects, but it’s still not enough. It could all be over in an instant.

Doctor:                   (Looks at watch). I’m sorry, I’m just about out of time and I see that the list can go on to infinity. Let me give you this prescription to meditate on for the ride home. (Writes something).

Marie-Jo:               (Reading) Psalm 112:7 A righteous man will have no fear of bad news.

(Doctor gets up from behind the desk and puts an arm around MJ but – afraid of germs, she shrugs her off). (In a loud voice) How can we avoid fearing the worst in this cruel and chaotic world? (rushes off)

Doctor:                    (addresses crowd) It seems there is an epidemic of worry around here. We’re going to need a large vaccine of inner peace.

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Making Madeleines

If you’re thinking about making madeleines, you will certainly need the right mould for it, and I’ve found an online supplier here that you can order from. You’re not likely to find them in your average American supermarket.

Of course, I suppose it helps to know exactly what madeleines are …

Madeleines are a small, traditional cake from the city of Commercy in the region of Lorraine. The bottoms are shell-shaped, and the cakes are elongated with a little pregnant bump on top that comes from the extra eggs in the batter.

History states that madeleines were invented in the kitchens of King Stanislas in the eighteenth century. (From what I can understand, this dethroned Polish king inherited the region of Lorraine (and another I’ve forgotten) until his death. A young servant to royalty, Madeleine Paulmier, created these cakes in 1755.

According to other less-reliable sources, the madeleine dates back to the origin of the pilgrimage to Saint Jacques de Compostela, where a girl named “Madelaine” offered pilgrims a cake made with eggs, molded in a large shell (which is the emblem of the pilgrimage)

Marcel Proust immortalised the madeleine in the early twentieth century in his work, In Search of Lost Time. A taste of a madeleine reminds the narrator Marcel of his happy childhood in Combray. He writes,

“I raised a spoonful of the tea to my lips in which I had soaked a morsel of cake. But at the very moment when the sip, mixed the crumbs, touched my palate, I flinched, attentive to the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded me, isolated, with no suggestion of its origin. »

With Proust, the “madeleine” entered everyday language. And sometimes you hear a French person say, “that’s my own little madeleine” talking about a recipe that brings one suddenly back to childhood. This is taken and roughly translated from this site.

You can find a lot of advice on making the perfect madeleine – to achieve the flawless little bump. I’ve read that you need to use iron pans, that you need to leave the batter out for 2 hours before baking, that you need to put it in the refrigerator before baking, that you need to have an equal mixture of eggs, butter, sugar and flour …

My first attempt had too much flour. I knew it did, but I still tried it anyway. (And I found myself asking, Is this a cute little cake? Or a weapon?) But I think I have a recipe that will work for you. I made madeleines using both large moulds

and small bite-size ones.

Mix 3 large eggs with 2/3 cups of sugar and a tablespoon of honey. Use a mixer to fluff up the eggs and melt the sugar.

Add the zest of one lemon. I am smitten with this little gadget that cost about 3€ in the supermarket. No more grating lemons on the side of the cheese grater (along with my fingers) only to have most of the zest stuck in the grater itself.

Then add 1 1/3 cups of flour, 2 teaspoons of baking powder, a pinch of salt (if you like to measure, try 1/4 t) and mix that together. This is one of those recipes that works really well with a gluten-free flour mix (a mix contains non-gluten flours plus a gum to hold it together, such as xanthan or guar).

And then add just over 1/2 c super soft butter. It has to be really soft or the madeleines won’t rise. I recommend leaving it out the night before.

Pour the batter into your moulds, using a pastry bag or a spoon. I’m not really convinced that leaving it out or leaving in the fridge makes a huge distance, so you can do that step or leave it. I’ll never know if it’s better to use a cast-iron mould since I couldn’t find one.

Set the time for 20 minutes and put your oven to 200°C, (which is 400°F). After the time has elapsed and the oven is very hot, put your pan in and set the timer to 5 minutes. After that, you might actually be ready to take the cakes out if your pan is for mini madeleines. Otherwise, you will want to reduce the oven to 350° (or 180°C), and possibly turn the pan, and bake them for another 4 minutes or so.

Flip them over onto the cooling rack.

And there you go!

Little buttery bundles.

Today we let our kids walk home from school alone (which is a 10 minute walk in our perfectly safe neighbourhood). I usually don’t do that because I’m paranoid. Plus, I actually like picking them up from school and being there to greet them. It makes up in some small way for the numerous times I shove them away from me because I’m busy on the computer. (Like now).

My husband was working from home and we were both looking out the window waiting for them, like silly gooses. They were fine, of course.

I can’t say the same for the madeleines, however, because there is not one left.

Madeleines   Print Prep time 10 mins Cook time 9 mins Total time 19 mins   Recipe type: Dessert Cuisine: French Serves: 16 Ingredients 3 eggs 130 grams of sugar (2/3 cup) 1 T honey 130 g flour (1⅓ c) 125 g butter pinch salt 2 t baking soda lemon zest Instructions Set butter to soften overnight. Beat eggs and sugar. Add all ingredients, and mix, but add the butter last. Put in mould and heat the oven to 200°C or (400°F) for 20 minutes. Bake for 5 minutes at that temperature. If more time is needed for the larger mould, lower to 180° (350°F) and bake for 4 more minutes. Flip over on to a cooling rack. 3.2.2929

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Watch This!

Watch this! It’s not a bird. It’s not a plane. It’s not a video. It’s …

It’s a watch!

A Jord wooden watch to be precise.

I must confess that, living in France, it’s rare that I get asked to review items. In fact, this is only the second time I’ve ever been asked since I started blogging in 2009. So it makes me want to sort of shout about it from the rooftops, if you know what I mean.

So this is me shouting about my Jord wood watch while driving to work (yes, I actually work. some of the time).

And here is my new watch set against my (very old) car. Does anyone want to send me a new car to review? A Mini Cooper, per chance? I like the cream coloured models with brown leather interior.

And this is me shouting about my pretty watch as I reach down and tend the spring flowers. Okay, I lied. I am not currently tending any flowers – these are all perennials and they come up without any effort on my part. But purple, pink and turquoise make a stunning women’s spring fashion combo don’t they? And the flowers prove that spring is indeed on its way.

And here’s me blogging while wearing my new watch because I never blog unless I am nattily attired.

And this is me opening the drapes. (yawn). Just hanging out in my little French house here. Oh! Look at the time!

(whispers) on my Jord watch.

Okay, if you know me by now, you’ll know I’m being playful. But you have to agree with me that the Cora Zebrawood watch that I was given is seriously beautiful. Look at the face! Such a lovely, unique colour, and there are little shiny stones on the hours, which reflect the light. You can also see the little springs and dials in motion through the hollow circle.

And from the back you can see that this one is mechanical (though it winds automatically when you wear it so you don’t have to wind it manually all the time).

My husband is completely smitten with it – he thinks the wood colour is pretty against my skin and he’s entranced by the clear view on the back, which shows the inner-workings of the watch.

“Analog watches are experiencing a renaissance in a time when everything is being moved to a digital platform. There is function in fashion and I think that’s why people are returning to wearing watches, even if they’re still checking the time on their phone. ”– Salman Shah (Brand Manager)

Yup. My husband is definitely a high-tech, digital guy, but he sure is a sucker for analog watches, especially ones that are as exquisitely made as these ones are. I think I’m going to have to get the Dover Zebrawood and cream model for him. (And if I weren’t so selfish, I would have asked for that one instead, but I really, really liked this model).

Alas.

If you buy a Jord wood watch, they want to hear from you! Hashtag your photos on Instagram & Twitter to spread the word. Show us your JORD Wood Watch in the wild and get featured on our site!

Not bad, eh? #jordwatch

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Just to Say Hi!

It’s Monday! And I haven’t written on my blog for an entire week, which is unusual for me. So I thought I’d start by saying ‘hi!’ and catching you up on my news.

WRITING: For the contest I entered, called Pitch Madness, where you submit a 35-word pitch, along with the first 250 words  of your manuscript, I didn’t make the first cut. They chose 68 people out of 915. After reading the winners, I am not surprised. Most of them were Middle Grade or Young Adult, and nearly all were fantasy or some such thing. Mine is a romance! How can I compete with people who start their books with things like “I never knew being dead would be an improvement.” (paraphrased)? Mine is a happily-ever-after!

So! I’m on to the second part of the contest where I am allowed to tweet 24 pitches of my book on March 11 to a specific hashtag and the agents will scour twitter to see if there are any manuscripts they would like to see. Who knows? There are definitely agents looking for the Romance genre, and it might be mine.

I had to start over with recording my memoir. I could have hired a company to do it for me and split the royalties with them, which would have been WAY easier. But I figured that most people will want to hear my voice telling my own story. Anyway, you could hear me turning the pages in the first recording, so I have to start from scratch reading from my Kindle. (duh). But it’s not such a bad thing because I’m starting to get the hang of it and to sound more normal.

BLOGGING: Alright so my manuscript didn’t get chosen, but I did make the final rounds for the Bloggies. It’s a web award for bloggers that has been around almost since the beginning of blogging – one that I think no one really knows about except bloggers (and not even all of them).

Anyway, I’m in the finals for the Best European blog for 2015 and could really use your votes if you don’t mind. (My dear friend Alison at Writing, Wishing is up for the best Asian blog, and Casey at Life With Roozle is up for the best LGBT blog. Those are my only friends on the list, and so therefore the only recommendations I can make, but if you could vote for us HERE that would be fabulous!)

Otherwise, in blogging news, I started a Christian Women Blogging Group on Facebook for people who blog at least some of the time about faith. I run that along with two friends – Andrea and Christine – and if that fits your bill, sent a request to join!

This week I plan to post a recipe for gluten-free madeleines (which are really yummy) and show off a gorgeous Jord wood watch that I received.

CHURCH STUFF: The comic skit we’re working on for Women’s Day here in Paris (that I blogged about last week) is coming along. There were lots of giggles from those of us participating when we rehearsed on Sunday. It’s fun when grown women can be silly.

Otherwise, the stress of writing deadlines, organising this skit, hosting my nephews, preparing for my French citizenship … (I have to take a 2 hour written French test, which I’m probably going to have to study for!) and the just all-around life craziness has sort of set me over the edge. I wasn’t listening to the communion message on Sunday because I was thinking bitterly about how a certain person wasn’t doing a certain thing and if only they were more responsible like MEEEEEEE … (what. am I the only one who thinks like this?).

Anyway, I finally snapped to attention and realised that the communion scripture was about the Pharisee and the tax collector (the first one says, thank God I’m not like these other people. I pray, I fast 2x a week, I give 10% to the poor, etc. and then the other doesn’t even dare to lift his eyes to God but says have mercy on me a sinner). I was like … oh. I sound a lot like that first guy.

Oops.

Ahem.

So the fine-tune workings of my heart are a work-in-progress.

FAMILY STUFF: I rarely post things about my kids, but I thought I would tell you something I love about each one.

Juliet. She will be 11 soon.

I once told her that when I ask her to do something she should simply say, “Yes mom” instead of grumbling and protesting and complaining. And after one reminder, that is exactly what she does each and every time. I told her how much that melts my heart when she dos that. I know she’s going to be a teenager soon, but if we can keep our peaceful relationship as long as possible, I will be thrilled. She’s beautiful, and she has a soft heart, and she’s so funny. Her facial expressions and the way her mind works makes me laugh.

Gabriel. He recently turned 9.

I often marvel at my son because he is so assiduous. Every project he does, he throws his whole heart into it, whether it’s schoolwork or putting on a play with his sister. And he’s really good at his studies and at trumpet. He’s whipping through the material in his 2nd year trumpet book and I had to buy the 3d year book in advance so he can start that. He was also made 1st trumpet in the brass ensemble when it’s only his second year. But I think it’s his heart to do everything well that I love and admire – he’s so different than me (well, at least as far as schoolwork and cleaning is concerned). He wants to be a philanthropist when he grows up.

William. He’s 6.

I was worried for William to start elementary school because he was born in November so is almost a full year younger than many of his classmates. And then, of course, since he’s the youngest, he gets lots of cuddles and could very easily remain in his role of the baby of the family. That’s why I was so surprised at how diligent he is in learning to read. He loves to impress me by reminding me he has homework, pulling out his reader, and then rolling those Rs. And this kid is funny too. When he’s not coming for a cuddle, he’s cracking a joke. Life with him is never dull.

 So that’s kind of it as far as news goes. Just wanted to say hi, you know? What’s going on with you?

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Blogs, Books and Upcoming Events

Hello everyone!

Well. I finished my novel (although I’m still editing it like crazy). I submitted it to a competition to be picked up by an agent, so I’m not posting any more chapters on the blog for now. If it doesn’t get chosen, I suppose I’ll finish it here and then self-publish it again. But seriously! Why wouldn’t they want to choose mine?

I am so, so busy these days, I hardly know how I am surviving. Besides editing my new book, I’m recording my memoir so that I can put an audio file for sale on Amazon. Some people prefer books-on-tape rather than reading. It’s way harder than I imagined it would be. Somehow, after just one chapter, my mouth is dry and my eyes are crossed. But I want to take advantage of a week where my children are not around, and I can’t borrow my friend’s expensive mic forever, so I must plunge ahead.

I’m involved in a few other things as well, so let me tell you about some upcoming events.

1) The That’s Paris anthology that I was part of will be having a book launch for those of you located in Paris. It’s tomorrow night, and here are the details:

Tuesday, Feb. 24 From 6-9 p.m.
The Pure Malt

4 rue Caron

75004 Paris

I’ll be there signing books (and hanging out) if any of you are free to stop by!

2) Our church is having a Women’s Day on Sunday, March 8th. Here are the details, all in French of course. But if you’re in Paris and want to come, do send me an e-mail and let me know.

The funny thing is that I’m responsible for the short comedy sketch, which, as you can guess, requires some investment of time and energy. It should also require humour, but we are limited by our talent. It’s only two weeks away. gulp.

In addition, I agreed to go to the Message (English-speaking parents in France) Annual General Meeting dinner the night before. It’s loads of fun, but I wouldn’t have gone – knowing that I needed to be on my toes for Sunday – if it weren’t for the fact that I’m one of the Message members showcasing my talent. (Humor me here).

So that Saturday morning I have to teach English; in the afternoon we have our dress rehearsal for the sketch; that night I have a dinner in Paris until late. And then! And then it’s Matthieu’s and my turn to teach the kids’ class at church on Sunday morning before rushing off to prepare for Women’s Day. (heeeeelp)

If you find me a slobbering mess after that, you’ll know why.

3) Here is another event, which doesn’t involve me, but is organised by someone I’ve had the pleasure of communicating with through our common interests. It might be more applicable to people who live further south in France. (Or! People who have always wanted to visit France, since this is an all-inclusive deal):

Come and cook with Chef Jean-Claude Aubertin this Summer 2015!

Cooking Class:  6 people
6 Nights Bed & Breakfast Accommodations at Château Gigognan in Sorgues, France
For Cooking Enthusiasts
Authentic Classic French Cuisine
Market Visits
Wine Tours at Châteauneuf-du-Pape
Meet Local Farmers and Artisans
And, lots of great eating and drinking!

June 6-12 Schedule

Saturday:  Check in 3pm.  Welcome Dinner prepared by Chef Aubertin
Sunday:  *Discover the region with Chef Aubertin and Lauren (this is optional, otherwise a free day to relax or explore on your own)
Monday:  Cooking Class at Château Gigognan followed by lunch
Tuesday:  Châteauneuf-du-Pape Wine Tour with Chef Aubertin followed by lunch at a local restaurant
Wednesday:  Market Visit, Cooking Class at Château Gignonan followed by lunch
Thursday:  *Discover the region with Chef Aubertin and Lauren (this is optional, otherwise a free day to relax or explore on your own).  Farewell Dinner prepared by Chef Aubertin
Friday:  Check out 12pm.

You can find all of the details at Lauren’s website here.

4) In other news (and reverting now to a virtual event), my friend Jenn featured my book on her blog, which – if you love to read, you will love her blog. She’ll be featuring it again tomorrow for the Teaser Tuesdays, where she selects extracts from the book to lure people into wanting to read more.

Details are here. And again, Jenn is a good person to follow. Her blog is very active and brings a large diversity of books to her readers’ attention.

5) General news: We had two nephews and a niece stay at our house for 3 nights last week, and have only just deposited our children along with them at my parents-in-law’s place for a very rare and special week to ourselves. Believe me, going from 6 kids to none is quite a change.

We are not going anywhere, my husband has to work, and I have all of these upcoming projects and events. But I wouldn’t want to leave you with the false impression that I might be subject to boredom. Because if the aforementioned things were not enough, I am also applying to become a French citizen and have to take a written language test in a few weeks (that I will need to at least review for). And I need to collect and translate the official birth certificates of my kids, husband, myself, and even my parents. That, among a mountain of other necessary documents.

And then I was invited to appear in a magazine for expats featuring my garden (fortunately not in all its February mud). So I need to get pictures and answer the questions for that.

And one of my best friends is celebrating her 50th birthday at a chateau at the beginning of April. And I promised to sing and organise the music because I had nothing better to do.

I’m sure they will allow visits in the mental institution should you care to come say hi.

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Quick Garlic-Seafood Appetizer

This is a very quick shrimp and scallop recipe that uses reduced wine, butter, parmesan and sour cream. It makes your house smell like a five-star restaurant and it’s such a cinch to make. I have been meaning to share this recipe with you for a long time because it’s a favourite in our household.

I know it’s not often that I post two recipes in a row, but this was a quick one, and I have been on the fence about a book project that I have (almost) decided to go through with. I plan to submit my book-in-progress to compete for an agent to take it on. It might mean that the rest of the manuscript will not go on my blog, and you will have to wait for the book to come out. Or – I could totally get rejected and I’ll keep putting it on my blog as planned and then self-publish it. This baby is destined to be born one way or another.

(Don’t tell anyone, but the book is not actually finished and the deadline is Friday).

(cough, cough).

On to … Appetizers!

Mince 7 large cloves of garlic (unless you are meeting your boss for an important discussion about your raise the following day. In that case cut the garlic down to 3 cloves). Sauté it in four tablespoons of butter.

Before it starts to get too brown, pour 2 cups of white wine and turn up the flame.

Cook at high heat for about 10-15 minutes, stirring often until the sauce reduces. It looks like this – darker in colour, and less liquid.

While that is cooking (and before it gets too dark), rinse 400 grams of scallops and 300 grams of shrimp.

Then blot them dry on paper towels. They will be more tender if they can cook without liquid (although I usually don’t manage to dry-sauté them. There is always too much liquid that needs to be strained out.

When the sauce is sufficiently reduced, add 1/4 cup of sour cream and let that melt *.

Add 1/2 t salt, and remove the sauce to a bowl *.

Use the same pan (with its flavourful remnants of sauce) to melt 3 more tablespoons of butter, and place your seafood to cook on medium heat. After about 5 minutes, turn them gently over to the other side.

You will probably need to strain out any excess liquid like I did. Then sprinkle them with about 2 teaspoons of dry parsley and pour the sauce over them.

Add 100 grams of parmesan, and let that melt on low heat, stirring just a little bit.

And it’s done! Serve immediately.

* You can make this with toast for an appetiser that will serve 6-8 people. You can also add broccoli, and even more sour cream (1/2 c or more, plus another 1/2 t salt), and/or grated swiss, then serve that over rice for 2-4 people (depending on how big the appetites are). We usually make this for dinner.

Can’t go wrong with this easy dish, and if you are generally not a confident cook, just wait ’til your spouse comes home to this aroma!

Quick Garlic-Seafood Appetizer   Print Prep time 5 mins Cook time 15 mins Total time 20 mins   From: Lady Jennie Recipe type: Appetizer or Main Dish Serves: 6-8 Ingredients 7 large cloves of garlic 7 tablespoons of butter. 2 cups of white wine 400 grams of scallops 300 grams of shrimp. Add ¼ - ½ cup sour cream Add ½ t to 1t salt 2 teaspoons of dry parsley Add 100 grams of parmesan Instructions Mince 7 large cloves of garlic. Sauté it in four tablespoons of butter. Before it starts to get too brown, pour 2 cups of white wine and turn up the flame. Cook at high heat for about 10-15 minutes, stirring often until the sauce reduces. While that is cooking, rinse 400 grams of scallops and 300 grams of shrimp. Blot them dry on paper towels. Back to the sauce, which is now reduced: Add ¼ cup of sour cream and let that melt. (If this is a main dish, add ½c) Add ½ t salt, and remove the sauce to a bowl (with a main dish add 1t). Use the same pan to melt 3 more tablespoons of butter, and place your seafood to cook on medium heat. After about 5 minutes, turn them gently over to the other side. Pour out excess liquid. Sprinkle the seafood with about 2 teaspoons of dry parsley and pour the sauce over them. Add 100 grams of parmesan. Let that melt on low heat, stirring just a little bit. And serve immediately with toast for an appetiser, or with cooked broccoli and rice for a main dish. 3.2.2885

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Paris-Brest Pastry, Gluten-Free

The Paris-Brest is a French pastry, created in 1910 (in Maisons Laffitte, by the way) by a pâtissier named Louis Durand. He was inspired by the cycling race from Paris to Brest, which was inaugurated in 1891. The pastry is round to represent the wheel of a bicycle.

Although the Paris-Brest can be made up to 30 cm in diameter, it’s usually individually-sized, and made of puff pastry with a praline butter-cream filling, and is topped with almonds and confectioner sugar.

I got the recipe and know-how from the book “Les gâteaux classique de Christophe Felder.” As with all of the patisseries in the book, you will want to give yourself plenty of time because they are complicated. You should also take out 2 sticks of butter the night before so it’s nice and soft. The Paris Brest has four components to prepare, and six steps in all, and I will walk you through them.

STEP ONE: THE PATE A CHOUX

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) and grease and flour your baking sheet. Then mark circles in the flour with a 7 centimetre round. Like so.

Melt 8 tablespoons of butter with a half-cup of water. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1 teaspoon sugar. When the butter has melted, pour 1 1/2 cup of flour in slowly -

whisking all the while until the dough has absorbed all the moisture. This recipe works perfectly with a gluten-free flour blend (store bought). Remove from the dough from the flame, and add 6 eggs one by one, mixing energetically. The pictures only show half the recipe because the recipe I was following said it would make 18. It only made 8. So while the first batch was in the oven, I made a second.

Your dough looks like this.

Fill a pastry bag and use a 8mm tip – a large one with either a smooth opening, or one with teeth. Just don’t use a tip that’s closed in the form of a star. (There’s probably a professional word for that, isn’t there?) Follow the little circular paths you drew on the baking sheet as you form your Paris-Brests. You will need to cut the dough off of the tip each time you complete a circle, and the dough might have a tendency to dance around the floured surface a bit. Don’t mind the dough.

Brush an egg over your pastries and sprinkle slivered almonds over the top – shake the pan to get rid of excess almonds. (But don’t send your Paris-Brest flying into the sink).

Bake for about 25 minutes, and make sure you don’t open the oven for at least 15-20 minutes or the pastries won’t puff. The recipe says a “non-ventilated oven” and I did try that, but it just wasn’t cooking fast enough.

When they come out of the oven, set them on cooling racks.

STEP TWO: THE PASTRY CREAM

You need 20 cl whole milk (3/4 cup) that you set to heat in a saucepan over low heat. Make sure it’s whole milk – that’s important. Add a vanilla bean to the milk (or in a pinch 1/2 t vanilla extract). I compromised and used 1/4 t real vanilla seed powder. Don’t let the milk boil over.

In a separate bowl, put 2 egg yolks with 40 g sugar (1/4 cup), 20 gr corn starch (2 tablespoons), and whisk them together gently by hand.

Pour the hot milk into the egg mixture, and whisk gently. Then strain that mixture back into the saucepan, removing any crust that had formed from the milk. Put it on high heat and stir it constantly without ceasing. (I forgot to strain it but that’s fine).

As soon as the mixture has thickened, remove it from the heat and add 1.5 tablespoons butter and mix. It happens really fast and stirring constantly is important, as is removing it right away from the heat. Here is my pastry cream:

Put it in a cool bowl, and cover it with plastic wrap so it doesn’t touch air. Let it cool, and even freeze it for 15 minutes because you will need to add it to the buttercream and it should be very cold.

STEP THREE: THE ITALIAN MERINGUE

This is really just a sub-step. You need the Italian meringue to be able to complete the buttercream.

Heat 3 tablespoons of water with 1/2 cup of sugar. Use a candy thermometer to measure the temperature.

When it gets up to about 100° C, start beating your egg whites (2 large egg whites) with 3 tablespoons of sugar. At 118°C precisely, take the sugar water (which is now syrup) off the heat and start pouring it into the egg white as you mix. (This picture shows the last of the syrup being incorporated into the whites to form the meringue).

Set that aside because you’ll need to incorporate it into the buttercream mixture.

STEP FOUR: THE BUTTERCREAM

Now that the meringue is ready, put 3 egg yolks in the standing mixer bowl and mix it briefly. Believe it or not, you now have to repeat the sugar-water-syrup-making step. Except this time there is a greater proportion of water, which means it might take longer to form a syrup. Combine 1/2 cup plus 1/2 tablespoon sugar with 1/4 cup minus 1/2 tablespoon of water.

I know it’s weird, but the French weigh everything, and I don’t dare alter the measures too much. (I’ve included the weights in the recipe box below if you prepare to measure things metrically).

When the syrup is at 118°C, pour the hot syrup over the yolks as the mixer is running).

(Thank goodness for my husband, who happened to be in the right place at the right time, and who grabbed the camera. I had completely forgotten about the pictures by this point). The yolk-syrup mixture might be a bit runny, but when you add your butter, it should be just fine.

Scrape the syrup from the sides of the mixing bowl before you add your butter.

Add about a cup’s worth of butter to the yolks.

And then the merengue. You forgot about it, didn’t you? The meringue italienne? Time to add it now and mix it all together, giving a delightful airy consistency and lightly sweet taste.

STEP FIVE: CREATING THE PRALINE BUTTERCREAM 

So the filling for your Paris-Brest is actually a combination of the buttercream, pastry cream, and a praline caramel. I found out after the fact that you can order this caramel, called praliné, on line, but since I didn’t know that, I bought chocolate praliné, which will work just as well. (FYI – Praline is a combination of almonds and hazelnuts). This is what I used:

So add 150 grams of “praliné” or melt the chocolate praliné just enough so it’s runny.

Add that and the pastry cream to the buttercream mixture. A reminder that the pastry cream should be very cold.

And then you have your praline mousse (mousseline praliné).

We’ll just pretend like mine is not lumpy. Put it in the pastry bag and refrigerate it for about 15 minutes or it will really be too runny. (But not more or you won’t be able to squeeze it out).

STEP SIX: ASSEMBLY

Take a long serrated knife, and gently cut your pastries in half like this. They don’t look like much, but wait ’til you add the cream.

Fill the Paris-Brest pastries.

And then put the appropriate “hat” on each one.

Sprinkle confectioner sugar on top and stick them in the refrigerator for a couple of hours. If you eat them as fast as you are tempted to do, they will fall apart. The buttercream needs to be firm.

And then … eat.

I suppose the only reason you might make something crazy like this is because a) you like a challenge. b) you’re not in France and you wish you were in France, or c) you think gluten-free people should be able to eat as well as their non-coeliac counterparts.

Whatever your reason for making the gluten-free Paris-Brest, Bon Appétit!

Paris-Brest Pastry, Gluten-Free   Print Prep time 5 hours Cook time 50 mins Total time 5 hours 50 mins   From: Lady Jennie Recipe type: dessert Cuisine: French Serves: 16 Ingredients Puff Pastry: 1 cup (250 grams) water 8T (110 grams) butter 1 t sugar ½ t salt 1.5 cup (140 grams) flour 6 eggs 1 egg to make it golden 100 grams slivered almonds Italian Merengue for the Buttercream: 1.5 T water (20 g) ¼ cup sugar (50 g) 1 large egg white, or 2 small (35 g) 1.5 T sugar to mix with egg whites (18 g) Buttercream: 3 egg yolks ½ cup + ½ T sugar (100 g) ¼ cup - (minus) ½ T water (50 g) 1 cup butter (225 g or 2 sticks) Then the Italian Merengue you made needs to go in. Pastry Cream: ¾ c (20 cl) whole milk 2 yolks 2 T (20 gr) corn starch ¼ c (40 gr) sugar 1.5 T (20 g) butter 150g Praliné Instructions Take out the 2 cups of butter and let it sit out overnight. Preheat the oven to 350°F or 180°C and grease and flour baking sheet. Make a circular pattern to mark your pastries. Melt water, butter, sugar and salt over low heat. Add flour into melted liquid bit by bit, whisking constantly until all moisture is absorbed. Remove from heat and add eggs one by one, stirring constantly. Put dough into pastry bag with an 8 mm decorating tip and form rounds. Brush egg on top and cover with slivered almonds. Bake 25 minutes without opening the oven. Step Two: The Italian Meringue Heat the water and sugar until it reaches 114°C. At that point start mixing the egg whites and sugar until stiff. When the water/sugar mix reaches 118°C exactly, take it off the heat and pour it slowly into the egg whites while they are mixing. Set aside. Step Three: The Buttercream Do the same thing with the larger amount of water and sugar - cook it until 118°C. Beat the egg yolks and add the sugar mix slowly until incorporated, and until the yolks start to form ribbons. On the side, beat the softened butter, and then add that to the yolks. Add the merengue and beat that in. Pastry Cream: Heat milk over gentle heat. Don't let it boil over. Whisk eggs, sugar and corn starch very gently. Pour hot milk and whisk again. Strain it back into the saucepan and cook on high heat until it thickens. Stir constantly! Remove from heat and add butter. Cover with saran wrap and let it cool. Take the very cold pastry cream and add the melted praliné chocolate (or the simple praliné), and add both to the buttercream. Cut the pastries in half and fill them with the praline buttercream. Sprinkle with confectioner sugar, and refrigerate for a couple of hours. 3.2.2885

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The Viscount – Chapter Twenty-Two

THE VISCOUNT OF MAISONS LAFFITTE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Salut Tommy.” Marc reached down awkwardly and wiggled Thomas’ knee before straightening back up again. Thomas continued to stare down at the action figure he had in his hand without giving any indication that he had seen his father. “Well, uh, I’ll let you get back to your toys.”

Chastity walked into the room, putting her coat on and digging through her purse at the same time. “Mom, I’ve got my phone. So if you need anything at all, just call me.” Turning to Marc, “We’re just gone for the afternoon, right? We’ll be back in time for dinner?”

“Yeah, sure. It takes an hour and fifteen to get there, but then we’re just staying a couple of hours for the apéro. We’ll be back by six o’clock easy.”

“Okay buddy.” Chastity kissed Thomas, and then lifted his chin so that she could look him in the eyes. “You and Grandma are going to hang out and I’ll be back, alright?”

“Okay, Mom.” Thomas flashed her a rare smile, and her heart melted.

The March weather had started to warm up a bit, and there was a smell of stables in the air, which was not unusual in her neighborhood. She smiled to herself. She had never thought she would associate the smell of horses with home. She still needed to see if she could get Tommy some riding lessons as soon as he got better. It was one of the few things that seemed to animate him. Then she had a sudden vision of him falling off of a horse and she shuddered involuntarily.

“You cold?” Marc asked her.

“Yes, a little.” She stopped short and gasped. “It just occurred to me that I should be bringing something for your parents.”

“Oh, it’s alright. They won’t expect anything.”

“No, no. I can’t show up empty-handed. But there’s a florist right by the RER station and I will get your mom a bouquet from there.”

“That’s probably a good idea, actually. I’m sure she will love that.” She could see that he was pleased, and hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting her gesture. She was doing this so he could be reconciled with his parents, not because she had any desire to win them over for her own sake.

They arrived in the 16th arrondissement at Marc’s parent’s building, and he punched in the code. As soon as they had stepped over the raised metal doorframe, they entered a cobblestone hallway with glass doors on either side, and which continued on to an open courtyard. Marc buzzed his parent’s apartment and she heard his father’s voice crackling through the intercom. “Oui, âllo?”

“C’est nous, Papa.”

“Entrez.” She followed Marc inside, on to the plush dark-red carpet, and then up the winding wooden staircase with its shallow, narrow steps. The door to the apartment was already open when they got to the second floor.

“Marc. Chastity.” His mother was beaming as she kissed her son, and then reached over to kiss Chastity on both cheeks. Taking the flowers, she said, “Thank you. This is so sweet of you. I will put these in water.”

“Marc.” His father reached out to shake his hand, and Chastity remembered that he used to kiss his son. This made her heart ache for him, and she was caught by surprise when Marc’s father leaned over to kiss her cheeks. “Welcome, Chastity. It’s good to see you again.” But Marc’s father had always been kind to her.

They walked into the large entrée to the apartment and Chastity peered into the kitchen where Marc’s mother was busy arranging the flowers in a vase. She looked the same as she did in New York, only older. Chastity noted that she was still wearing high heels at home, even on a Saturday, and she thought she recognized the slim skirt and navy cardigan.

“There.” Madame Bastien brought the flowers over to the table in the sitting room, and showed Chastity and Marc to a small sofa. There were already round tables with chips, pistachios, and a few petits-fours.

“What would you like to drink?” Marc’s father asked.

“Brandy for me, Papa.”

“I’d like some Cointreau, please.”

When everyone had been served and had raised a glass to the general health of everyone else, Marc’s father leaned back in the straight chair and crossed one leg over his knee. His mother sat forward in her chair in that focused, energetic way of hers Chastity remembered.

“So how is Thomas?” Chastity could see that Marc’s mother was determined to be pleasant. She decided to answer in kind.

“Thank you for the teddy bear you sent him. He really likes it. He is recovering quickly, and has even surprised the doctors. But I can see that he has a long way to go. He is not himself. He gets frustrated easily when he used to be so easy-going. And truthfully, I can’t tell the extent of how much he has lost cognitively because he simply doesn’t communicate as much as he used to.”

“We’re hoping you’ll be able to visit him soon,” Marc piped up.

His father must have seen the look of alarm in Chastity’s face because he said, “Well, well. There’s no rush. We’ll still be here. Let the boy get his bearings first.”

“Surely a short visit …” his mother interpolated.

“Uh, so … how long have you been back in France?” Chastity quickly stepped in, hoping to avoid what would be a very awkward conversation.

“Oh, it’s been about six years, right dear?” Madame Bastien smoothed imaginary crumbs from her skirt and re-crossed her ankles. Chastity had never seen her eat anything. “Of course we had to wait until our renters were able to find another lodging, but once we decided to return, it didn’t take long until everything was settled.”

“Are the Ducamps still around?”

“Oh yes. You remember Marie Ducamp – she was about your age. She’s married now and has two children. We see them with the Ducamps at the boulangerie sometimes. Séverine is lucky that her grandchildren live so close by. She’s able to see them often.”

“What about the de Fleurys? I haven’t had heard from them in years.” Chastity could see that Marc was making an exceptional effort at conversation, but those words seemed to be the wrong ones because his mother puckered up her face and went silent.

“We’ve not had news from them in about six years now,” Marc’s father said quietly. “More Cointreau?” Chastity shook her head silently. Six years must have been about the time that Marc went to prison. She could see that he had made the connection too.

“So, I recognize some of the artwork from your New York apartment,” Chastity said brightly. “Were you able to bring everything over?” And from there the conversation steered towards safer grounds, and Chastity made every effort to keep it there. She wasn’t ready to sacrifice her son’s healing by arranging a visit with his estranged grandparents, but she did indeed want Marc to be fully reconciled with his parents, and she would do whatever it took to help. He was not ungrateful.

“You were really great,” said Marc, as they walked towards the Metro. The sun was still out, but it was starting to feel a bit chillier and she knew that when they got off the RER in Maisons Laffitte it would already be dusk.

“I really do want you to be on good terms with your parents, Marc. Nobody should be estranged from their own family. I’m glad I was able to help.” She touched his arm, and he smiled at her gratefully. For once, he didn’t push his advantage and try to ask for more from their relationship, and that made her feel quite in charity with him. They talked mostly about the occupational therapy Thomas was undergoing on the way home, and walked towards her apartment in easy friendship.

When they got to her door, Marc kissed her on the cheek and said, “Good night Chas. Thanks again. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled a little as she watched him saunter off, relieved that she didn’t need to tell him tonight that she was sure she didn’t want more than a friendship with him. She knew she needed to tell him at some point – at least she thought she did because he had made it clear he wanted more. But maybe he had taken the hint and knew what she wanted without her having to say it. He had been respectful today, and treated her like a friend. Perhaps they could transition smoothly into this phase without any awkward explanations.

Chastity turned on her heel and inserted her key in the front door. She rushed towards the elevator, suddenly eager to give Thomas a hug.

* * *

The Viscount was dressed in a black suit with a grey vest and a burgundy silk scarf at his throat, whose elegant folds were held in place by a discreet pin. Manon Duprey was at his side in a skin-tight black dress, with the back of the dress cut lower than her waist, but with black lace discreetly covering her bare skin. Her face looked like an angel with her large blue eyes and the blond curls that framed her face. He wouldn’t have been human if he didn’t admire her perfection.

But he didn’t like the flashing bulbs as entertainment journalists took their pictures on the red carpet. He didn’t like posing, and he didn’t like the fake ambiance of people pretending to be happy to see each other. Their look of pleasure was purely for the camera and did not go any deeper than that. Although …  Michael Richard’s look of lecherous delight was authentic. If the Viscount hadn’t found his pathetic fawning so irritating, he would have been amused.

Manon was in her element. She was never better than when people gathered around to adore her. She was gracious and charming. She could, at turns, look innocent and naïve, then sultry and seductive. Watching her somewhat dispassionately, the Viscount could see how he could have been taken in by her. He had believed the innocent more readily than the seductive, and when accompanied by such an angelic face, well, he supposed he didn’t really stand a chance.

“Shall we go in Charles?” Manon asked sweetly. She was on her best behavior, aiming to please, knowing that he didn’t really like a lot of attention. She had even expertly fielded a question that a journalist had directed towards the Viscount, joking that he was a very private man and if the reporter didn’t stop asking questions, she would be left all evening without a date. He took it in good turn, and joked back that he would be happy to step in, and they were allowed to pass without the Viscount getting further accosted.

The movie was good. The Viscount could see that she was very talented, and at one point, he felt a lump forming in this throat when her character suffered humiliation that would eventually lead to her taking her life. But then he disassociated and stopped allowing himself to feel anything. He didn’t want to show any emotion when the entire world would be watching him for a reaction.

Instead, he started thinking about Chastity. Her slamming the books down on the table at their first meeting. Her lifting a tear-stained face from her son’s bedside, and then jumping to her feet in confusion when she saw him. Her dropping the coffee cup and splattering hot coffee all over the floor and the wall when he had gotten Thomas to squeeze his hand. Her eyes lighting up when she told him that her mom was coming to visit. Her rushing to leave the room in the art gallery when she saw him walk in with Manon. (She had looked beautiful that evening). Her face, soft with regret as she told him good night. Her lips …

Oh my God, thought the Viscount, thunderstruck. I am in love with her.

* * *

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Why I Still Pray

In the past few weeks, God has met a very specific financial need of ours in an unexpected and great way.

He has allowed the three-year old daughter of a friend to overcome a life-threatening cancer … only to lose her life to an accident.

He has allowed a friend’s biopsy to be negative (woot! woot!).

He has permitted three loved ones to remain in financial and emotional distress.

He has given one friend  major healing and an emotional breakthrough from childhood abuse.

He has allowed another friend to sink to the very lowest rung in her life (through her own bad choices), dragging her innocent children down with her.

There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason, does there?

But despite the seeming lack of logic to the outcome of events, there are a few reasons I still pray – even though my most fervent prayers are sometimes met with a “no.” Even though in my darker moments, I’ve struggled with the thought, “Well, He’s just going to do what he wants anyway, so why bother?” Despite everything, I still pray with the naive hope of someone who has never been told “no” – as someone who has never met with grief. And this is why.

Because there is a spiritual war going on at all times.

Then war broke out in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him. (Revelations 12:7-9)

This is such a strong image isn’t it? It’s not a hard one for me to picture since I was so heavily influenced by The Chronicles of Narnia as a kid, and I remember The Final Battle.

And I don’t know if you read the book, Heaven is For Real, but the kid who had a near-death experience said (among many other things) that he saw his dad fighting in the final battle. Like literally – fighting with swords and arrows.

Okay, I’m probably losing you now that I’m talking about fictional stories and near-death experiences, but all that to say that the Bible does make it clear that there is a constant spiritual battle going on. It also says that those who are fighting on God’s side have God’s name written on our foreheads. So yeah. Satan and the whole spiritual world can see who his enemies are.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 6:12)

I pray because think prayers make a difference and that the army of soldiers for good should outnumber the army of soldiers for evil. I pray because I want “those who are with us to be more than those who are with them.” (referencing 2 Kings 6:16) I pray because it’s the most effective weapon to wield in a fierce and mighty ongoing battle.

Because God cares how we feel, so it’s worth telling him.

In those days Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz went to him and said, “This is what the Lord says: Put your house in order, because you are going to die; you will not recover.”

Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord, “Remember, Lord, how I have walked before you faithfully and with wholehearted devotion and have done what is good in your eyes.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly.

Before Isaiah had left the middle court, the word of the Lord came to him: “Go back and tell Hezekiah, the ruler of my people, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of your father David, says: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you. On the third day from now you will go up to the temple of the Lord. I will add fifteen years to your life. And I will deliver you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria. I will defend this city for my sake and for the sake of my servant David.’” (2 Kings 20:1-6)

I know, I know. Sometimes it really feels like God doesn’t care, doesn’t it? How can he let hundreds of innocent school girls be stolen in Nigeria and sold into slavery? How can he let villages be razed to the ground with thousands of innocents slaughtered? How can he let my loved one die? Me to contract a life-threatening illness? My friend to have constant emotional and physical pain without relief in sight? How?

But when you’ve prayed consistently long enough, you see evidence of how much God does care. Yes, he created people with full freedom to make their own choices, even when those choices are evil. But he is always there, always working for the good even in the most horrific circumstances.

You can’t really explain faith. It’s being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. You believe in a God and a goodness you cannot see. Faith sort of comes about when you put it into practice. You start to see how God is loving, and how he cares about you – personally, specifically – and it allows you to surrender to a “perfect will” that you do not understand.

Because there is his perfect will, and there is his allowed will. I’m very encouraged by that passage up there where Hezekiah said he didn’t want to die, and God heard him and gave him 15 more years. But what’s interesting to note is that in those fifteen extra years, two very significant events happened:

1) He had a son who would be the next ruler of Judah and who was one of the (if not the most) evil rulers there was. He did everything detestable in God’s sight and led the Israelites into major sin. I mean, the guy sacrificed his own children to Satan worship. It would have been better had he not been born.

2) Hezekiah showed the Babylonian envoys every single treasure in his palace, which led to them descending upon Israel after Hezekiah’s death and putting an end to the reign in Jerusalem, stripping the Lord’s Temple of all its treasures, and turning Hezekiah’s descendants into eunuchs. Had they not known how rich Jerusalem was, they might not have thought to conquer them.

So God’s original plan to end Hezekiah’s life fifteen years earlier makes sense in retrospect. There is God’s perfect will. And there is his allowed will, and he wants to know how we feel. Sometimes the most loving thing to do is to insist on his perfect will, even if it doesn’t seem like the best thing for us.

(An extra note about “the slaughtered innocents.” They have lost their lives here on earth. But is that really the worst thing?) If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. (1 Corinthians 15:19)

Because praying shows the relationship is still important to us.

“Then the man who had received one bag of gold came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your gold in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.’

“His master replied, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest. (Matthew 25:24-27)

Whenever I do think, “well, He’s just going to do what he wants anyway” I’m really not being fair to God, because I never think that when it’s something good.

For example, I’m up for that promotion. But why bother praying about it because he’s probably going to give me the promotion anyway whether or not I pray. He’s just going to do whatever he wants so why bother praying.

That example is completely ridiculous because we’d never think that. We only think that way when we expect him to do something bad – something we don’t like. But refusing to invest in the outcome is just like the guy who hid his talent in the ground. “I knew that you are a hard man,” he said. “You harvest where you have not sown, and gather where you have not scattered seed.” I know you’re type, he’s saying. You demand unrealistic things of me, and you’re a hard and cruel master so why should I try to bear fruit for you? It will never be enough.

And God says – so you know me, do you? Well if you knew how cruel I was, you should have at least done the bare minimum and returned the talent with interest, right?

I pray because I know that God is not a cruel master who harvests where he has not sown, and I will not treat him so unfairly.

Because He will see that justice is done.

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. He said: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’

“For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually wear me out with her coming!’”

And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off? I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly.  (Luke 18-1-8)

I have a friend who is a Jewish doctor and she once told me that bacteria that is prayed over grows faster than bacteria that is not. A scientific fact that makes me laugh a little, but one that also pleases me. God could sweep his angels, saints and righteous ones up into a cloud in heaven, and destroy the wicked on earth, with Satan and his minions, in one fell asteroid sweep.

But instead he wants us to pray. He is patient, unwilling to destroy the good with the wicked. He is loving, wanting to include us in the fight for righteousness on earth as it is in heaven. He is our Father, teaching us to have hope in the face of Satan’s limited rule on this earth. He is our friend, listening to us and encouraging us to wield our weapon of prayer, no matter how inexpertly. He’s rooting for us to fight for justice instead of just giving up.

The passage in Luke 18 ends with Jesus saying these words, which I find to be some of the most plaintive, touching words in the entire Bible: However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”

I pray because when Jesus comes back, I am determined that he will find faith on earth – at the very least, he will find it in me.

Photo Credit: / 123RF Banque d’images

PS. The winner of the That’s Paris book is Elaine!! (Elaine, congratulations! I will contact you).

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Theatre, Circus, and Awards

A week ago Friday, my family went to the theatre. My daughter’s class had been chosen to be part of a performance of Noah’s Arc with a professional theatre company, and the families get discount tickets to three performances so the kids can see what it’s like to go to a real performance at night, before they are actually on stage.

The first one was Cinderella, and they did it in typical French fashion – dark humour, sarcastic, sometimes funny. It was … ok. (I mentioned it here). And then the second one that we saw over a week ago was “Mitsou – the story of a cat.” It was a movie without words with a large screen set up on the stage. And there was a tiny pit orchestra and 5 singers to SING the parts in sync with the actor’s moving their lips. In OPERA.

And thus began the most boring hour I have ever spent in my life. It took place in the early 1900s with all the costumes and French antiquated scenery. It was about a boy who found a cat and then lost him again – a day in the life of, IN REAL TIME. The bath took 5 minutes with him sighing in pleasure as the water was poured over him. There were two men, which I couldn’t figure out. Was one the dad who died in WWI? Because there was a WWI scene with battle-weary men singing, accompanied by homemade instruments. So was it the ghost of the father and the other the current husband? But no! It wasn’t that, which I was later to find out. It was a mother who was living with BOTH her husband and her lover. (This is a family-friendly movie, mind you).

The mother smiled benignly the entire time, except for when she was in bed with her lover. And then there was five minutes of watching two kids playing a board game. Throw the dice. Count it out. Your turn. (In opera). Then there’s the guy (can’t remember if it’s the lover or the father) reading Nietsche. In GERMAN. In the end, they lose the cat and the kid is wandering around the deserted town, followed by the fields, at night, with a candle, looking for him. Where are his parents? Why is he out without a coat after he was in bed with a fever?

He doesn’t find him. He cries. He and one of the dudes go fishing and come home. And that’s the end. William was traumatised. “Mais ils n’ont pas trouvé le chaaaat!” I said (loudly) honey you’re going to have to renounce your heritage if you want a happy ending. You won’t find that in a French movie. You’re going to have to move to America.

I had a major fit of the giggles halfway through the show because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and how boring it was. There was polite applause as the actors and singers came out on stage and we clapped for them. (Not too enthusiastically for fear of an encore). And then in the parking lot, my husband starts calling out to the car in a high-pitched operatic voice. “Ou es tu?” (Where are you?) That was my favourite part of the evening.

Last night we went back to the theatre for the last of the three performances. I was a bit wary.

This time it was the cirque de plume – the feather circus.

And this time it was really, really good.

All of the performers were athletes, musicians and comedians. They did trapeze, tightrope walking, and other feats with their bodies that had me on the edge of my seat for fear they would fall. The clown was funny. FUNNY! I never think clowns are funny, but I was laughing at everything he did. It was two hours of pure bliss, and this time we did chant for an encore, and got one.

Voici a marvellous video recap of the event so you can feel like you were there. I highly recommend it.

The only fly in the ointment was the day they chose for this (again) family-friendly adventure. Wednesday night when they have school the next day? We didn’t get in bed until midnight and it was rather a rude awakening this morning. But I’d say that all-in-all it was worth it.

So, next up will be the performance which includes our children. This is one every parent is sure to love.

In a complete change of topic, I am up for an award for my memoir. And – as much as it goes against the grain to ask – I was wondering if you would vote for me? In full disclosure, this is based purely on votes and has nothing to do with talent. BUT. I think it will give a lot of exposure, and if you liked my memoir, would you vote for me?

The link is here, and you’re allowed to vote just one time until March 31. But … you can ask your friends to vote. You’ll find A Lady in France if you scroll down the page to Non-Fiction: Biography/ Memoir

However, voting aside, I did get an award for my book based on merit.

I felt giddy and a little emotional when I received it in the mail. I’ve got plenty of things to keep me busy – ten more chapters in my serial romance/mystery that I put out each week; I have to write and direct the comedy sketch for the Women’s Day our church is holding in Paris – in French, of course; I’m co-moderating a Christian women’s blogging group on Facebook (if you’d like to be part of that, do let me know); and then of course I’m a wife and a mom.

And, you know, I can see the weaknesses in my own writing, so I am doubly conscious of the honour in having received this award. I’m just so grateful.

That’s all I wanted to say today.

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