Laura Bradbury's Blog, page 13
June 27, 2014
Favorite Memories of Camille in France
As of this morning “My Grape Escape” has 94 reviews on Amazon.com. More reviews = more potential readers seeing my book. Merci BEAUCOUP! To thank you here is an excerpt from “My Grape Village” that recounts the moment when we knew Camille would be just fine at preschool in France despite the fact that for the first three months she did not utter a single word in either English or French.
***
Franck and I spent the entire afternoon on the cliffs of Bouilland, descending to real life just in time to have a strong black espresso under the tilleuls of the village café before going to pick up the girls from school. It was strange how there could be moments that were idyllic in the midst of the chaos and confusion of creating a new life here in France. When we had imagined only the ideal images before we moved here we were seeing just a sliver of the whole picture.
When we got to Saint Coeur, Franck went to Charlotte’s classroom while I made my way to Camille’s, dreading to see my traumatized little raven-haired girl.
I caught sight of Camille. She sat at the end of a row of children on a bench by the door of the classroom. Pensive, she clutched her bag of school slippers to take home for the weekend. My heart contracted with guilt. I heard Franck and Charlotte arrive behind me.
Camille’s teacher was helping a crying child do up her zipper and had her back turned. A blond headed boy who didn’t have a coveted spot on the bench squeezed himself between Camille and the next child on the bench. I gasped as the usurper, with a strategically placed elbow, shoved my daughter off the bench and sent her tumbling to the ground.
Before I could surge forward past the crowd of parents to pick Camille up off the floor, she sprung up and dusted off her denim jumper. She narrowed her hazel eyes with a look of calculated vengeance at the boy.
She inserted herself beside him again so that he was teetering off the end of the bench.
The little boy began to whine to the teacher that Camille was pushing him. Camille took a cursory glance at her maitresse to ensure that she was still preoccupied with the crying child’s zipper dilemma. Safe in this knowledge, Camille pivoted herself slightly, raised one leg and gave the winging boy such a decisive kick in his ribs that he went airborne.
By the time the maitresse turned to discover the why the little boy was sprawled, sniveling, on the floor Camille was sitting with her knees together and her hands folded in her lap – the perfect angel.
I felt Franck’s hand on my shoulder. “I think Camille is going to be just fine,” he said.
June 23, 2014
Scheduling Issues
Clem has been harrassing me to buy her a pair of roller skates since her friend Madeleine R. got some for her Birthday. Her favorite place to heckle me is when we are both trapped in the minivan.
Clem: “So Mom, can we go shopping for rollerskates?”
Me (frazzled, trying not to get in a car accident): “No.”
Clem: “So when then Mom. After?”
Me: “Sure. After.”
Clem: “After what?”
Me: “Just…after.”
Clem: “This afternoon?”
Me: “No. Not this afternoon.”
Clem: “But Moooooooooooooooom. I neeeeeeeeed rollerskates. We need to go buy them noooooooooow.”
Me (fingering person who just cut me off): “We are NOT going to get roller skates Clem and you need to stop bugging me about it.”
Clem: “But I need to know when. It’s important.”
Me: “Why do you need to know when? What have you got going on?”
Clem (exasperated): “Mom! I have to organize my schedule too, you know.”
Me: “You do?”
Clem: “Of course I do! I also need enough time to consult with my stuffies.”
June 19, 2014
Fancy Feet
We are at the beach with a friend who has a daughter Clem’s age. She is doing a strange jig.
Friend’s father to his daughter: “You are doing your fancy feet thing again. Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?”
Daughter looks down at her feet which seem to be moving of their own accord: “Yes.”
They leave, and Clem gets thoughtful for a minute or two.
Clem: “Do you know what I am thinking?”
Me: “What are you thinking Clem?”
Clem: “Feet are the first thing to get fancy when you need to go to the bathroom, but when you really need to go your bum gets a bit fancy too.”
June 18, 2014
Fairy Wings
Clem, about to go outside to the trampoline, notices it’s raining and shuts the door instead.
Clem: “I can’t go outside now. It’s raining.”
Me: “It’s just spitting. I don’t think you’ll get too wet.”
Clem: “I can’t go outside in the rain. It wrecks my fairy wings.”
Me (noticing she is wearing no fairy wings that I can see): “Oh.”
Clem: “Rain is very bad for my fairy wings.”
Me: “Are your fairy wings invisible?”
Clem: “Most of the time, except when I’m with my other fairy friends.”
Me: “Who are your other fairy friends?”
Clem: “That’s a secret only us fairies know.”
June 16, 2014
A Year in Burgundy – A Film About Wine
Last night Franck and I watched the lovely film A Year in Burgundy: A Film About Wine .
Needless to say, it made me beyond nostalgic for the days when I could enjoy all of the incredible wines of Burgundy with utter abandon. Besides that though, I felt the film really got inside the idea that a good winemaker is an artist and that a truly fine wine is one of the greatest pieces of art a human can create (with some significant help from Mother Nature, of course).
Both Franck and I found that the images of the region could have been more visually stunning – Burgundy is so gorgeous a region that that would not have been difficult. Still, this film delves into a handful of fascinating and distinct winemaking families that give the viewer a feel for the sense of history and tradition of winemaking in Burgundy.
My hands-down favorite winemaker featured was Lalou Bize-Leroy (with such a great name, how could she not be downright formidable?) – an incredible Burgundian dame who speaks about wine and winemaking with a poetry all her own. Having been lucky enough to taste her wines while I lived in Burgundy, in my mind she is an artist on par with Georgia O’Keefe or Virginia Woolfe.
I have an 80% finished paranormal romance sitting on my computer that features a young (male, and handsome to boot) Burgundian winemaker. This film made me impatient to finish that book as soon as I am done “My Grape Village.” I cannot think of a more fascinating or romantic fictional character than a French winemaker, but maybe that’s just me.
This film goes a little way in explaining, I feel, why Burgundy is such an extraordinarily special place. It also helps you understand why, in the words of Franck’s great Oncle Georges, “La vie est trop courte. Boit que du bon.” (translation: Life is too short. Drink only fine wine). That was wise advice indeed.
June 15, 2014
She Let Go
After the past few days of feeling tortured by trying to control the uncontrollable and understand the un-understandable, I finally pleaded with the universe for some help this morning. Minutes later, I checked my email and read this poem that a thoughtful friend had sent me entitled “She Let Go” by Rev. Safire Rose / E. Holmes Rev.
***
She let go.
She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of the fear.
She let go of the judgments.
She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.
She let go of the committee of indecision within her.
She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice.
She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She didn’t search the scriptures.
She just let go.
She let go of all of the memories that held her back.
She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.
She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.
She didn’t promise to let go.
She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.
She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.
She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.
She just let go.
She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.
She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.
She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.
She didn’t call the prayer line.
She didn’t utter one word.
She just let go.
No one was around when it happened.
There was no applause or congratulations.
No one thanked her or praised her.
No one noticed a thing.
Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort.
There was no struggle.
It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be.
A small smile came over her face.
A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…
June 12, 2014
The Happy Bully
Clem at dinner last night with our family and my parents…
Clem: “We have a big bully at our school. His name is Caleb. Everybody is scared of him, even the big kids. He’s the biggest bully in the world.”
My Mom: “What does he do?”
Clem: “He hits people and stuff. He’s SO mean.”
My Mom: “You know Clem, we should feel sorry for him.”
Clem: “Feel sorry for him? Why?”
My Mom: “He’s probably very unhappy inside. He’s probably a bully because he’s unhappy.”
Clem thinks about this for a moment, then shakes her head.
Clem: “Nope. He’s happy, all right. Mean, but happy.”
June 10, 2014
A Favour…
Hello mes amis. I have a favour to ask you as I embark on the final push for My Grape Village. I am sitting at 84 Amazon reviews right now and I would LOOOOOOOVE to get to 100. Every single additional review increases the amount of times Amazon proposes My Grape Escape to potential readers. So if you could spare just a few minutes and write one, it would give me the extra kick in the derriere that I need to finish My Grape Village. Also, don’t forget the following sage advice, in reviews or in daily life… 
Is That A Tear?
Clem and I were biking home from school yesterday under a clear blue sky. Clem is rightfully proud of her newly acquired biking prowess.
Clem: “I think I just felt a drop of rain on my eye.”
Me: (looking up at cloudless sky) “I don’t think it could be rain. Maybe it was sweat. You’re pedaling super fast.”
Clem: “No. It’s not sweat.”
Me: “Hmmmmm.”
Clem: “It must have been a tear of joy.”
June 9, 2014
My Goodread’s review of “Somewhere in France”
Definitely on a French reading roll! Really enjoyed this cozy and thoroughly researched romance between an aristocratic ambulance driver and a Scottish surgeon on the front in WWI. Downton Abbey fans will feel right at home within the pages of this book.
Read my Goodreads review here.
Also, while you are there if you could rate and write a review for My Grape Escape that would be highly appreciated! Back to editing My Grape Village now…
