What I Did On My Summer Vacation, Part Two

Bonjour my charming readers. I am now French. Mr. Minivan and I took advantage of the boys being at camp and hopped across the pond for about a week. We had a great time. I had never been to France before--I loved it! Can't wait to go back. I need to start smoking and learn to drink espresso to really fit in, though. Oh, and learn to ride a motorcycle or scooter. Everyone spoke at least some English, which was great, because I speak only about 6 words in French, and none of them are "Where's the ladies' room?" Our suitcases arrived a day after we did, so we were forced to shop a bit. Luckily, July is when one of the big "soldes" (sale) takes place. (The government regulates the soldes, which take place only in January and July) Unluckily, the dollar is very weak against the Euro. We bought just enough to get by till our stuff arrived. The stores were mobbed--a soldes is a big deal when it only comes twice a year, apparently. Armed with TripAdvisor and Chowhound info and recommendations, we went to the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Marais--where we stood in line for great falafel and schwarma. We walked and walked the neighborhoods and the Champs d'Elysee, ate fabulous baguette sandwiches on the street, and had a great time. We went to the South of France for a few days after Paris and drove all over. It was fabulous. I found all the people we met to be friendly and helpful. You can immediately tell who are the Europeans and who are the Americans. It's easy. The ones with the cigarettes are the Europeans. The ones lugging the large suitcases are the Americans. On the way back we stopped in London for the day. If you think France is expensive, go to England. You'll immediately feel much better about the Euro. Prices are similar to what you'd pay in dollars, but they are in pounds. Get it? One pound is worth 2 dollars. So 19 pounds for two drinks in a London hotel doesn't sound too bad....until you realize that is really $38. My 12 pound gin drink was the best $24 drink I've ever had. Actually, it's the only $24 drink I've ever had.

I am regarding this trip as my summer camp and in the words of Boy #2, "Next year I'm going for 8 weeks."

Au revoir, my lovely readers.

Knock Knock, Who's There?

The other day Mr. Minivan saw something that no man should ever see. He walked in on me putting on Spanx. If you're not familiar with this fabulous product let me just say that my grandmother would have called it a "girdle" but it is now known as a "body shaper." Somehow this teeny piece of cloth compresses parts of you in a mysterious and magical way. It removes all bumps and lumps--I'm not sure where they go--and transforms you into a smooth and sleek bombshell. Your dress suddenly fits better. You suddenly look better. But the process of putting one on is a little...shall we say....awkward. It involves a little jumping, a little tugging, some deep knee raises, and a little adjusting. I myself don't even like to witness it. I try not to look in the mirror as I'm putting on the Spanx. It's bad enough to look in the mirror when it's all the way on. I prefer to look after my dress is on. Sorry, Mr. M. Maybe next time the door is closed, you'll knock.

Jeans' Genius

Sometimes we bloggers have no idea what our next posting will be. A slight case of blogger's block, perhaps. Thankfully, once in a while you get an unexpected gift. That's what happened today.

Boy #1 was invited to a party about an hour away, so the whole family piled into the minivan to make the drive. We dropped Boy #1 off and Mr. Minivan, Boy #2, and I headed to the local mall to get some lunch and visit my favorite store, Nordstrom. Once we had eaten we went to shop a little. After a while Boy #2 got a little antsy so I took him to get a drink while Mr. Minivan went to the Men's Department by himself. He met us shortly with a shopping bag in hand. He proudly showed us the new pair of jeans he had bought himself. "Are they for you or for Mom?" asked Boy #2. Out of the mouths of babes. Here's a clue, honey--when your child asks you that question--whatever the item--return it. Immediately. They were jeans...with just a bit too much embellishment on the pockets. After I stopped laughing I told Mr. Minivan that the jeans had to go. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with embellished jeans for men. He's a great guy and very in touch with his feminine side--but I had to draw the line somewhere. So we went back to the Men's Department, he tried on the jeans, Boy #2 and I laughed even harder, and the jeans got returned. I guess it could have been worse. I'll let you know when I figure out how.

Happy Mother's Day

So tonight Mr. Minivan invited 3 business associates over for a little BBQ. I know, I know, what could be more special and more celebratory on Mother's Day than eating char-grilled meat with your husband's business cronies? I mean, anyone can go out and bring home roses. I am so lucky. When I mentioned that that was an unusual way of celebrating--let's face it--this Hallmark holiday--he said the three little words that strike fear into most women's hearts. Yes, he said, "I'll do everything." Yes it's true. AND--the thing is--he actually believes he will. This is a man who proudly tells me he's cleaned up the kitchen when what he really means to say is "I put the dishes in the sink." And then he said, "We'll get ready-made salads." Well, I have a reputation to uphold--business associates or not, and that was not going to fly.

He did go to the store and shop, and he did all the grilling. He also "cleaned up the kitchen". It was actually a very nice evening. Even without the ready-made salads.

You'd better sit down for this one.

I had to. Well, I don't know how to say this exactly, but I'm just going to go ahead and say it. We're moving. Yes, you heard that right. We're moving. I know--I still can't believe it myself. The possibility has been out there for the last couple of years, but you know how when you hear about something for a long time and it doesn't happen, you sort of don't believe it ever will? That's how this has been. Mr. Minivan has been telling me (and anyone who will listen to him) that this was in the future, and now the future seems to have arrived.

His business needs to relocate. We are headed west to the city of angels. La-La Land. Los Angeles. Which, I might add, is a fun place to visit--but to actually live there? Don't those people get bored by all that sun? Here in the Midwest we actually appreciate a nice day.

For the last few weeks I have been very busy getting rid of some of the crap in my house--I mean donating some of my gently used items to charity, and throwing out some less than gently used items. My garage is so clean you could eat off the floor. Well, not really. And my house is such a vision of cleanliness and organization that my children think they're in the wrong house. The "For Sale" sign is up on the front yard. I guess it's really happening. People I barely know are telling me they are going to miss me--my mailman and the dry cleaner. My cleaning lady of 13 years started crying the other day because she's upset I'm leaving. People I do know want to spend time with me--"let's go for coffee"--or in my case, a Diet Coke. I have now become a reason to throw a party. My parents are putting up a brave face and are trying to avoid the reality of all this by going on a Hawaiian cruise. It's very sad and very exciting all at the same time.

Never Marry a Baker

Mr. Minivan, Boys #1 and 2, and I went into the city to Mr. Minivan's office yesterday. He had to do a little business, and we tagged along. After we left his office we walked around the neighborhood in search of food. Mr. Minivan remembered a NY-style pizza place that one of his employees had discovered. The pizza at Santullo's was thin, NY-esque, and delicious. It was so NY I could almost see graffiti appearing on the buildings across the street. After pizza and a salad, we decided we needed just a little taste of something sweet to finish off the night properly. We walked into
Sweet Thang , a charming little French patisserie with the most delicious tarts and other goodies. Boy #2 said his lemon tart was "one of the best desserts I've ever had." He may have meant "that day", but a compliment is a compliment. I asked the young woman with the French accent who was serving us if she was the baker and she said she was his wife. I had to ask. "When you start dating a baker, how much weight do you gain?" "Probably double where you start," was the shocking answer, "and then you lose it." Sounds like fun on the upside, no?

Dinner Dinner Everywhere Yet Not a Bite to Eat!

When I was a kid my mom made dinner every night. A REAL dinner with a salad, main dish, vegetable, and starch. There were four of us kids, and we all took turns setting and clearing the table. It was like a well-oiled machine. Can you imagine making dinner for 6 people every night? Neither can I. We rarely went out for dinner because, well, people didn't then. Sometimes, when my parents went out we got to have Swanson TV dinners. Yes, sadly enough, that was a real treat. My personal favorite was the meatloaf dinner. Remember that one? Meat loaf in a tomato-ey sauce, little tater tots, green beans, and that brownie. That brownie that was never cooked properly. It was always a bit too mushy or after it was put back into the oven, a little overdone. And that was back in the day when the TV dinner came in a tin container with tin foil on top and had to be cooked in the oven. Yep, we had to wait about 30 minutes (not counting preheating time) for that "special treat". It's not like today where you can pop that paper container in the microwave and have your dinner cooked in the time it takes you to put the box in the recycling bin.

When I had my kids, I looked forward to the days when I could make lovely family dinners. In my imagination it went something like this: My sweet, freshly-bathed little darlings would gather 'round the dinner table, sitting perfectly with napkins on laps. My husband would be at the foot of the table and I would bring in dinner from the kitchen. I would walk in with Chicken Marsala, or Meat Loaf or perhaps Soy-Glazed Salmon. With all the trimmings, of course. Their little faces would light up as they saw what was for dinner and they would excitedly hand me their plates to be filled up.

In reality here is sort of what it's like at my house: Mr. Minivan travels and works late. Boy #1 likes red apples and green grapes and would be happy eating pizza every night for dinner. Boy #2 likes green apples and red grapes and everything from sashimi to cheeseburgers to tilapia. A very common comment (usually from Boy #1) at dinnertime is "This is a horrible dinner!" As you might imagine, my cookbooks are covered in a very thin layer of dust, which is so sad, as I love to cook.

That meatloaf dinner is sounding better and better. I have to go now and make a quick stop at the grocery store....

The end of everything

Mr. Minivan, who has many many wonderful qualities that I will discuss in depth at a later date, also has several that drive me crazy. The man refuses to use up the last bit of certain things. Shampoo is one of them. I realized this years ago when I went to empty the wastebasket in the bathroom he showers in. Imagine my horror when I noticed, in the trash, his bottle of shampoo, discarded with an inch and a half of shampoo still in it!! Well, I was raised right, so I knew what I had to do--I pulled the bottle out of the garbage, turned it upside down, and put it back in the shower. Of course he ignored it so over the years I've devised a little system to fool him--I pour the last bit of the shampoo into the new bottle he is using. You do what you have to do.

Now that the shampoo problem has been solved, I realize I must turn my attention to Grape-Nuts. He will not eat the last inch or two of the bag of Grape-Nuts, claiming it is all "dust". Last night I found the old bag of Grape-Nuts (with 2 inches of "dust" in it) on the counter with the new box, opened, next to it. He may be onto me about the shampoo, so I have to proceed carefully.

The thing is, if it were me with this "last bit" issue, I'd just do what I wanted and hide the evidence. But I'm much sneakier than Mr. Minivan (I actually prefer the word "clever")--and one of the things I love about him is that hiding the evidence would never occur to him!

Anyone have a good recipe for Grape-Nut muffins?

It's not their fault!!

During the twelve and a half years that I've been married, I've often wondered how it was possible that my husband, Mr. Minivan, a college grad (business school, too!) could forget/ignore the simplest of requests. How could it happen that, when repeatedly asked to take out the garbage or recycling, he would immediately walk past said bag of trash or newspapers? I know he's got a good memory for certain things because he remembers in great detail the intricacies of various business deals and complicated football plays from the 1985 Bears. Imagine my surprise when I read today that it is actually harder for men to hear women's voices than men's voices.

Now I realize it's not that he's playing a little passive-aggressive mind game with me or just ignoring me. He has an actual physiological impediment, as do all men. I feel so much better now.