Year of the Wood Horse

"Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning." – Gloria Steinem

My double deck tarot card reading confirms that this next year is going to be an wild ride with lots of change and pursuing of dreams. Not sure what exactly that says about 2013.

2013 dreams that came true:
- my very apartment in Paris. In a neighborhood that I LOVE!
- a house with two barns and a garden in Burgundy.
- selling one of the barns to my dear friends so they can join me on this wild French ride.
- deepening of new and old friendships.
- cleaning out my stateside storage unit (whoa!) and selling my beloved Saab.
- a slump was busted
- trips to new places (like Belgium and Spain) and revisiting some favorites (Carreyes,Mexico and Cinque Terre, Italy)



2014 dreams:
- French fluency (or something close to it)
- a couch for the country house. Seriously, how hard can this be?
- visiting a new country/city that I have never been to.
- hosting my teenage nephew for his first trip to Europe.
- re-igniting my creativity.
- more slump busting
- embracing change and uncertainty with a sense of excitement and wonder which is obviously inevitable now that it is Year of the Wood Horse.

idée fixe: canapé

idée fixe (Fr.) noun: an idea or desire that dominates the mind; an obsession.

Obviously this stone-coved ceiling is very high, unlike mine. But serves as an inspirational direction to move in none-the-less.

Because I inherited a house full of granny-style furniture, much of which is from the 50's, I am desperate to find a new canapé (couch) that will bring this house into my modern monastic-chic vision. This is only exacerbated by the fact that I have a fireplace that I am anxious to snuggle up in front of, especially during these winter months. I find myself stuck in a purgatory of sorts, where I feel a sense of urgency, yet don't want to make a panic purchase and accidentally buy a canape that doesn't fit my current inspiration criteria.

There are January sales right around the corner. And if I get my ducks in a row and select my target, I can hopefully pull the trigger when the prices temporarily drop.

Canapé criteria:

• needs to be low (no high backs) as my living room is a stone-coved low ceiling.
• light in color to help brighten the room (my ideal color is oatmeal since white is just begging for a wine spill)
• comfy
• would be nice if the material was stain proof, and or removable/washable cover
• modular (can be broken apart and reconfigured) which allows me some future options if I were to open up the full lemgth of the living room. That way I can re-create a formal space with multiple canapes.
• no buttons on the upholstery, just simple and timeless, with a hint of modern design
• linen fabric is preferred, and suede/velvet/leather is a total deal breaker.

I have a dream canape in mind, yet I have no idea where I can find it. Here is a shot of it that was found on a design blog. Love everything about this one:

This next one is also nice, especially if it came in a lighter/oatmeal shade, and had a matching ottoman (not required). But where? I found this one on a design blog as well. Why don't they ever tell you where you can buy them? Sigh.

Here's the Newman from Habitat. Not modular, but comfy. The metal legs are not doing much for me. I am pretty sure that monastic-chic demands wood.

And yet another one that is not modular, but super comfy with removable covers that can be washed. It is spendy-- it comes from Merci in Paris afterall.

Then there is this modular solution from Muji. It comes in grey, which is not oatmeal. I am also not totally feeling the metal legs. But it is affordable and can be transformed. You can also order more pieces and extra pillows as needed. God, I hope I don't settle for this one.

Let's consider this post as preparation for the January sales. Although my target has not been identified as of yet.

Transition ritual

I have been spending a lot of time in the country. There is so much to do to the house, yet I am still taking time to enjoy my friends and the village before the extremity of winter.

It seems that I have a transition ritual when I return to Paris after having been in Burgundy.

• Discard any plant casualties.

• Turn on KEXP to drown out the sounds of the neighbors.
• Order Thai food
• File my nails and oil my cuticles. Twice.
• Dust. The lack of movement in the apartment for periods of time can produce an obscene amount of dust.
• Bathe (vaporize) my scarves and coat in the Diptyque Vinaigre tonic to remove the smell of firewood. 

• Text my Paris friends to remind them that I am still alive and (somewhat) relevant.
• Lament the country house before and after photos that I forgot to take.
• Plan my return.

The upstairs WC before and after:

The mint green WC was unbearable.

Gris Gallet is much more tolerable. I only wish I hadn't run out of paint. It desperately needs another coat, and white baseboards.

The living room enduit before and after:

Living room enduit before (notice the discoloration which seemed like a dusty/cottony film)

I think it is important to put intentions into a new home. Here are some of the energy words that we painted into the walls of La Bonne Etape.

Living room enduit after. The Blanc Caisse color gives a modern feel and really brightens things up. The stone-coved ceiling now has a chance to be the star again. 

Kale thoughts

(photo of French kale farmer, Hermoine Boehrer, by Damien Lafargue for the New York Times)

It is the beginning of fall, which should trigger my harvesting of kale. Alas the canicule in July wiped me out except for a couple of surviving plants that are supplying my morning smoothie greens. So I am already thinking about next year, and how I am going to manage crops simultaneously in Paris and Burgundy. I will definitely be picking up some new seeds when I am in PDX

Three thoughts about kale:

1. Everyone asks me why the French don't grow kale. I just learned that it's a World War II thing. Which coincidentally, I have learned more about World War II in the past two years than in all 16 years of formal education. It's weird how much historical wars come up in conversation over here.

2. In this NY Times article about The Kale Project in Paris, I learned that you can deter kale eating insects by planting mustard and chervil around it. *makes mental note* I really like the idea of these textures together. Welcome to next year's balcony aesthetic.

3. Now that I have learned proper pasta making from Mama Gio I plan to bust out some kale raviolis, and maybe kale lasagna noodles.

I wish I still had my inherited gardner at La Bonne Etape.

Fluent

Fluent (Eng.)/ Fluent (Fr.) adjective: (of a person) able to express oneself easily and articulately.

The first question that people ask me about living in France is, "How long have you lived here?" My answer is a shameful 2.5 years. Shameful because of the answer to the natural follow up question.

"How is your French?"

Sigh.

I have a pretty extensive repository of French vocabulary words. But my verb conjugation and sentence composition is atrocious, and has led me to some very uncomfortable situations. Like the time I thought I was scheduling a time to test drive a used car that was for sale. Only to find out that I had inadvertently invited the car's owner to a Sunday afternoon orgy.

Marco says that I need to focus on learning a phrase a day. I think one per week is probably more like it. Regardless, I see his point. At least phrases will get me farther than an impressive vocabulary that resides solely in my back pocket, so to speak.

This excerpt from Me Talk Pretty One Day basically sums up my current situation.

“On my fifth trip to France I limited myself to the words and phrases that people actually use. From the dog owners I learned "Lie down," "Shut up," and "Who shit on this carpet?" The couple across the road taught me to ask questions correctly, and the grocer taught me to count. Things began to come together, and I went from speaking like an evil baby to speaking like a hillbilly. "Is thems the thoughts of cows?" I'd ask the butcher, pointing to the calves' brains displayed in the front window. "I want me some lamb chop with handles on 'em.”
― David Sedaris, Me Talk Pretty One Day

Extincteur

Extincteur(Fr. )/ extinguisher (Eng.) noun: a metal cylinder which contains water or chemicals at high pressure which can put out fires.

A few weeks ago, my friend's Bed and Breakfast (which is called a "gite" in French) caught fire. The cause? An old toaster oven turned itself on and the electrical wire set off sparks that wreaked total havoc and destroyed her kitchen and living room with fire damage.

(Photo by Thierry Drosson)

Not only do (did) I have a toaster oven at La Bonne Etape, but I also have two fireplaces that I know nothing about. It put the fear of fire in me, and therefore sent me straight to the BHV to but fire extinguishers. My intention was to buy one for every floor in my house, and maybe an extra one to hang in the bathroom as modern art, just like Patrick did in his Brussels penthouse.

There were so many options-- extincteurs for gas, grease, cars, etc. I decided I should buy the ones that covers ALL bases. It was 51 euros (!) so I only bought one.

I thought that I was finished with this adult errand until I turned the corner and saw that the options continued-- and because this is France after all, they were aesthetic options.

Yes, those are fire extincteurs that look like magnums of wine. But of course! How perfect for my house in the Burgundy wine country, non? They cost 101 euros. Sigh. Because I am an adult, I must prioritize that money towards Farrow & Ball paint.

And then, gasp, I came across these sexy little numbers. Have you ever seen anything so cheesy in your life? The shocking part was that there was a cluster of folks gathered around these little honies picking out their purchases. ("Ooh la la, rouge! Non, non. non, rose!") God, the French aren't nearly as stylish and discreet as they make themselves out to be.

I debated purchasing this for the boys. How could I resist an extincteur with a pug in a Blues Brother disguise? Again, 101 euros-- I passed. The boys can thank me later.

I made my way directly to the Caisse (register) before any other distractions took a piece of my bank account. And what do you think they put in my bag (besides the warranty paperwork for my extincteur)? You guessed it, ANOTHER breathalyzer test. 

Really?

What is going on? Why is it that every time I make a purchase at the hardware store, I am given a breathalyzer test? Is it me? Are they trying to tell me something? Or is this a real fear across Paris-- people doing at home DIY projects drunk? Dare I try and extinguish a fire after too many drinks. Yet, something tells me that is precisely when I may need to extinguish a fire.

Oh, France.

Belgium

I spent last weekend in Belgium. First in Brussels and then in the countryside of Bioul.

Across the street from the apartment in Brussels is this swimming center, or something like that.

I hesitated going away for the weekend in the midst of so much activity at the Burgundy house, as well as on the work front. My mom said, "Go no matter what." So I did. It ended up being a perfectly timed weekend of pure inspiration.

First it was the architecture, cleanliness and calm in Bruxelles that inspired me.

And then the inspiring countryside, with two days spent at this very special house.

The property was so large between the house and the chateau that you had to travel by quad or motorcycle. RDW and I tried to give it a go, resulting in my dismounting prematurely when the muddy terrain became treacherous.

Sculpture gardens in the front and back.

The front yard's circle sculpture perfectly framed the red tree.

The large sculpture to the right was inspired by a person standing on their head. I tried and tried to see that to no avail. My favorite was the one next to the pool on the left.

I had no idea that garden sculpture would become my next aching desire. I will put garden sculpture in the tickler file for now, right behind sandblasting beams, sealing floors, and grounding the electricity (just to name three immediate needs). But I digress.

On the way back to Brussels to catch the train, we stopped by the Brussels Design Fair.

I had no way of getting the chairs home on the train, which is the good news.

Thank God lights are easier to transport. This one is part of my monastery chic vision.

But this Great Gatsby piece may be throwing everything out of whack. I love it, but am on the fence about how Monastic (is that a word?) it really is. Although I panic-purchased it I'm gonna sit with this one a bit before forcing it into the aesthetic. Maybe it will go in Paris apartment.

And then I found my ideal country boots.

I had been on the fence until I spotted them in Brussels again. And bam! I must have them immediately.  God I love clarity.