It seems like minutes ago that I dropped my 3-year-old off for her first day of French immersion school, but the year is already half over. During the holiday break I was able to take stock of what my daughter Éva was learning. In between baking batches of cookies and coloring reindeer I’d sneak in little questions to test her.

Read the rest at Nola Française–>

Louisiane "Chez Nous Autres". Special license plate for supporters of Cajun and French culture in Louisiana.

If you’re a supporter of French and Cajun culture and language in Louisiana you might want to consider getting a French Louisiana, or Louisiane license plate for your car. The special plates debuted in May of 2009, but many Louisianians have never seen one before since most of them are found around Cajun country…

Read the rest at Nola Française–>

This is a very random holiday post to end the blogging year. I’ll see you again in January – Happy Holidays!

Downshift Like You Mean It

George Bailey having his holiday nervous breakdown.

I’m shutting down all my work for half of December. Last year I tried to work and it was too stressful. Preschool is closed for two weeks and trying to type with two little spawn climbing on your back is a nervous breakdown waiting to happen. I can pull off articles or ad copy with distractions, but writing opinion or fiction is impossible with toddlers. Luckily I got everything done early and pushed the rest to January so I can spend this time with them. The plans are pretty modest. We’re going to make gingerbread cookies, dance to retro Christmas music, decorate our stockings for the fireplace and vege on the sofa with chocolate and Christmas movies. I’m relishing this while I can. I hear these days they don’t believe in Santa and ask their parents for iPads – at five years-old. How depressing.

Just as I was looking at my big work stack and wondering if two whole weeks might be a little too indulgent I stumbled across this article. It’s pretty morbid reading for the holidays, but to me it has an uplifting message. The Top 5 Regrets In Life By Those About to Die is written by a palliative care worker (care for the terminally ill) who asked her patients if they had any regrets or would do anything differently.

“’I wish I didn’t work so hard’ – This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence. By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.”

Q calls this “Killing Fields Therapy”. Before we had kids, whenever I’d get all depressed about lame first world problems (Oh, my master’s degree program sucks. Wahhh!), Q would put The Killing Fields movie on (Beta tape or CED disc, I can never remember). At the end he didn’t even need to say it. After that, you feel pretty stupid for being depressed about anything short of genocide. You look at your life, feel pretty ashamed and decide to (wo)man-up. My instincts had made the right decision about this holiday break, but I was over-thinking and over-complicating it. So I cleared my desk and hid all evidence of work, then I made a list of things we’d do and not do over the holiday break. Q is also off of work for a week so we’re going to make damn good use of this at-home family (and couple ;-) ) time.

Stuff and the Best Recycled Gift Ever

Stuff is the topic of much debate in our household since I’m a minimalist and Q is a “collector”. I don’t throw away everything, in spite of what Q says. I keep things that are well made and multipurpose. For instance, the only major thing I kept from my childhood is my dollhouse and my Barbie doll collection. The reason I kept it was because my grandfather handmade it when I was four years old in 1979. He also designed it to be convertible so you could take the dollhouse roof off and it would simply look like a bookshelf or entertainment center. I’ve used it my entire life. In my teens and twenties I used it for my books, TV, linen storage, an aquarium and a hamster cage. When I met Q it got moved into his lab where it archived everything Q-ish from circuit boards to 60s keyboard service manuals and other hellish looking bits I can’t identify. Thankfully, it was safely tucked in our Uptown attic when Katrina hit.

This month I started renovating the dollhouse so I can give it to my three year old daughter Évariste for Christmas. She asked Santa to bring her one, but I’m not giving that creepy jerk the credit. I’m telling her the truth – her great-grandpa made it. Santa doesn’t make shit. He can give her the crappy 99 cent bin presents.

So I removed all of Q’s spare parts from it and started cleaning it up. It was covered in dust and had a few nicks in the wood from being moved so many times over the last thirty years, but it was fine otherwise. Q is installing lights in it and I’ll decorate it with all the wee furniture before Christmas morning.

I keep feeling like something is missing, but I realize now that it’s the feeling I should be buying something. Americans are definitely trained to buy and my brain is desperately trying to grasp that, yes, you’re giving her a hand-made hand-me-down present. Oh crap, I’m a cheap hippie! But when I talk to myself (it happens) I decide that I really wish ALL toys could be like this – well made and passed on to each generation. Parents wouldn’t have to stress about how to pay for tons of toys every year, they could just keep theirs and clean them up every 25 years. Fewer things, but higher quality. We just don’t do things like this in America much anymore. But the resurgence of the DIY and simplicity movements do give me hope that someday it won’t be completely odd to not have tons of mass-produced plastic strewn about your home.

Speaking of cheap plastic crap toys… After the dollhouse I started to go through my Barbie doll collection and see if there was anything left after 25 years in storage. I sneezed wildly then laughed pretty hard at my 1980s Barbie and The Rockers band and Barbies of the World collections. Ken’s hair made me snort my hot chocolate. He did not look like this to me at age ten. Anyway, what made it even more amusing was that I had MY mother’s Barbies too, complete with 60s bubble cut hair, thick upper eyelid liner and Jackie Kennedy looking suits. I erupted into a full-on giggle fit at the idea of my kid having to play with this junk. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

After sorting I realized this was way too much stuff to give for one occasion (I’d kept nearly everything Barbie I received over a 10 year span) so I boxed most of it up again and decided to just give her one doll of her grandmother’s, one of mine, and one of her own. I’ll give her the rest for other holidays or birthdays. But now I actually did have to buy something – Éva’s first Barbie. Thankfully it’s much easier now to find a Barbie with coloring like your kid’s. When I was little I didn’t relate to blonde/blue-eyed Barbie at all so I played with Asian and Latina Barbies instead because they had brown eyes and dark hair like me. Nowadays it’s easy. One or two clicks on Amazon and I found my daughter her first Barbie (photo below) – a light brown-eyed brunette wearing purple (her fave color) with cat eye glasses!

I have a weak spot for cat eye glasses. They remind me of my late grandmother who was a brilliant, beautiful goth-before-it-existed type. I remember her sitting at the kitchen table playing Scrabble with those pointy glasses on, cigarette smoke glamorously swirling around her face, black hair, black eyes, pale skin, her head tilted up slightly, the light catching her very high cheekbones… Those glasses are the only thing I kept of hers. They are black with silver designs and made of some kind of metal. I could try and recreate the image but I can’t. Ok, here, I tried… but I don’t even know how to smoke so I just look like a nerd blowing a Bic…

It’s A Wonderful Life

My favorite holiday movie by far is It’s A Wonderful Life, and I’ve watched it every Christmas Eve since I was a young kid. Made in the mid 1940s it’s still eerily meaningful today. George Bailey embodies the modern American condition – people with everything who still can’t be happy, he was “first world problems” before it had a hashtag. He feels trapped by duty, his job and family, and gave up his dreams to “settle”. He can’t see past materialism and ambition and thinks his life is a meaningless failure. He’s frustrated, angry and depressed, and the holidays are making him snap. He faces financial ruin right before Christmas and has to swallow his pride and actually beg the man he hates most in the world to save him. There are so few movies that make me cry, but this is one that manages it consistently. You can really feel this man losing his mind, and you get so wrapped up in his perspective that you understand why he wants to kill himself. I pretty much cry through the entire sequence when the crazy-ass angel shows him how dark and miserable the world would have been without him. It takes so much, but when he finally gets it, and then you know he’ll never forget it… This is the best feeling in the world to me…

In today’s La Mère Aventurière article at Nola Française I cover French Week’s Education Fair.

A bilingual Louisiana native keeps the panel laughing with his stories of traveling in France.

As an immersion school parent I was interested in seeing what French Week had to offer at its Education Fair. Organized by the French Consulate, this first annual event reached out to prospective students and considered the future of the French language in Louisiana. Most of New Orleans’ French immersion schools were present to speak with parents, as well as universities offering French language programs and local organizations holding adult language classes. A discussion panel led by Joseph Dunn, executive director of CODOFIL (Center for the Development of French in Louisiana) featured many of the biggest supporters and organizers for the Francophone community in Louisiana including state senator Eric Lafleur, Dr. William Arceneaux, president of CODOFIL, Jean Claude Brunet, Consul General (French Consulate in New Orleans) and Brooke Smith, an international advisor to Mayor Mitch Landrieu, among others.

The event was more academic than I was expecting, and I felt like a geek for being at Tulane University on a Saturday morning to talk about “Qui va là?: What Is New For French Speakers in Louisiana.” But I was interested, and the panel was interesting. For those of us who hope to see Louisiana bilingual once again, these are exciting times. Since the unintended shake-up of the education system in 2005 due to hurricanes Katrina and Rita, several new immersion schools have opened in the state and thousands of parents like myself consider bilingualism a requirement for a quality education. Also, many adults that weren’t interested in learning before are considering it now, especially the parents of immersion students.

Read the rest at Nola Française –>

Everybody around here has a Red Beans and Rice recipe, but I still get some blank stares when I ask how people make “White Beans”. That’s what we called it when I was a kid. It didn’t have a fancy cookbook name. I’m not sure if any restaurants serve it because I rarely go out to eat, but I’m sure someone in southeast Louisiana has it on a menu.

The recipe follows a similar process to the red version, and takes about as long (a half day simmer job). I make it with ham instead of andouille so it will taste less like Red Beans, but every home cook has their own way. It has great flavor, is cheap to make, and doesn’t take much time to prep. Since I work from home, slow cooking one-pot meals are my favorite for weekdays.

Ingredients

1 lb great northern dried white beans
3 lbs ham hocks, uncured (or 2 lbs cubed ham if you want less fat)
2 tbsp bacon fat (optional, but recommended if you have some around)
2 celery stalks, diced
1 yellow onion, diced
1 bunch green onions, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 carrot, diced
3 bay leaves
4” sprig fresh rosemary, (remove stem) chopped
Few sprigs fresh thyme, (remove stems) chopped
2 tsp Herbes de Provence seasoning
1 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp cracked black pepper
1 tbsp salt
Tabasco (to taste, add at the end)

Serve with: White long grain rice and baguette or pistolettes

I don’t soak the beans overnight. That would take too much commitment. Think half-assed coon-ass.

Chop the yellow onion, celery, and carrot. I put them in the food processor then slice the green onions and mince the garlic separately.

Keep them an identifiable size. We’re not making baby food.

Go gather some bay leaf, rosemary and thyme from the garden and give them a quick rinse. Remove the stems from the rosemary and thyme and give them a rough chop.

Throw everything on the ingredients list (except a few of the green onions – and not the rice either dummy) into a big pot and fill with water until everything is covered up.

Bring to a raging boil and then lower to a simmer (a very low one). Now let it go like that uncovered for 3-4 hours, stirring occasionally, and adding water if it goes below the ham.

You’ll know it’s about done when the ham starts to fall off the bone.

Remove the bones and simmer until desired consistency (or smash some of the beans against the side of the pot with the spoon to make it thicker). I make it pretty thick so my preschoolers can eat it more easily. Also, give it a taste to see if it needs salt, more pepper, or a dash or so of Tabasco.

Plate it up over cooked white rice with a baguette or pistolettes on the side. Sprinkle some fresh green onions on top. Bon appétit.

How to avoid football games. Know when they are.

I don’t care about football. There. I said it.

In the south it’s considered odd to be unenthusiastic about football. But in Louisiana, it’s downright heresy. It’s easier to get away with saying you hate Mardi Gras here than to say you don’t like the Saints. Since the Superbowl it’s only gotten more hysterical. The “Who Dat Nation” couldn’t possibly peak any higher. I don’t wish to deny them their happiness. Quite the contrary, I like to see my people happy. I just wish they wouldn’t look at me like I have a bomb strapped to my chest when I show lackluster patriotism.

I’ve never understood football rivalries or people who get excessively excited about any game, much less football. It’s not like the outcome will change your life, unless you sell football jerseys or something. If this game were played by real congressmen, and perhaps to the death, where the final score determined our laws – I might be interested.

I don’t harbor hate or disrespect for those who love football, I just don’t relate. I’m always bored or mildly irritated at games. The only exception to this was when the Saints won the Superbowl. Everyone in the city from goths, grannies to trannies got sucked into the euphoric vortex. Even then I didn’t feign fan status. I just kind of enjoyed the off-the-chart energy of it all. I don’t mean to single out my city. We’re certainly not the only place obsessed with a game. I should be grateful I wasn’t born in Rio de Janeiro.

When I was a kid we’d have Sunday family dinners. All the men would amass near the television for football while the women would sit around the kitchen table and catch up on gossip. While I find football unpleasant my ears outright bleed in protest at girlie gabfests. Back then women were safe from the obligations of football fandom, but now it’s even strange when the ladies aren’t watching, cheering, and yelling obscenities at the TV. Progress?

The game just doesn’t sync with my personality I guess. It starts off with a bang and then just as things get interesting they all stop and wander around chatting for 15 minutes (okay, it feels that long to me). I also find it stressful to watch. I think it’s because the control freak in me can’t sit by and do nothing while drama is unfolding. I want to DO something! When forced to watch I rock in place like an asylum escapee off her meds. Then there’s the overlapping stadium noises and the insipid national sports commentary (there’s always some sappy stretched Katrina reference). In New Orleans the tradition is to watch the game on mute while the local radio station plays over it, but I don’t see how this is much better. Some guy with a Tow Mater accent chatters non-stop while some Cajun guy yells a lot. Taking my preschoolers to a fine dining restaurant is less stressful than that.

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. My younger brother played high school football (another big deal in the south), and I was genuinely proud of him. But for what exactly I’m still not sure because I had no clue what was going on. While he played ball I was the bore in the bleachers who showed up in non-festive clothing and read depressing gothic novels during the games. When I heard excessive cheering (or my brother’s jersey number) I’d look up, yell and stuff, then ask my mom what happened.

Like a normal person, my husband Q likes to watch the games. He’s not an obsessive paint-your-face carry-a-sign season ticketer type, but he likes to watch at home or go to a house party for one. I just pretend to have Ebola virus if I get invites. Just jokin’, I go. Then I try to do the host’s laundry, paint their kitchen, or wash their car or something. This is why I still keep getting invites. My anxiety has benefits. One false move and I’ll be performing my “good luck ritual” for life.

So what the hell do I do during these games? They last only three hours but seem to take up an entire Sunday. Smack in the middle of the day, it interrupts anything lasting longer than three hours in the morning or three hours in the evening. My calendar’s nightmare – nearly every Sunday shaded in as “busy” for over four months. And they call this a free country. Anyway, I have several strategies for escaping game day:

1. Grocery shopping. The stores are not as empty as you’d think because all the rebels have the same idea, but it’s still as sparse as it is on a weekday morning. Also, pick your store carefully. My local favorite blasts the football game loudly for the employees and shoppers. Don’t they know I’m coming there to get away from the damn game?!

2. ANY shopping. The malls and other shopping meccas are reasonably navigable on game day. I’m not a browser and only shop when I have a goal, but on this day I invent reasons. I’ll go stock up on house supplies at Sam’s or check out the plant nursery. At the beginning of football season I’m usually buying autumn/winter wear for the whole family so game day is perfect for this.

3. Workout. Sunday is not my exercise ‘rest day’. I go running or do crossfit in the park with my iPod blasting anything that isn’t played as football bumper music.

4. Playground. This is prime playground time because every one of them is abandoned. It’s best to go when the game starts too because no one is pissed off that we’re losing by 5 touchdowns or cocky because we’re winning by as many. If it’s a close game that’s going into overtime then you’re golden. The kids have the contraptions all to themselves and are perfectly tuckered out before dinner time.

5. Home projects or hobbies. Work in the garden, clean out a closet, practice French, cook a few days worth of food, do a writing brainstorm session, etc. Anything that can rescue those three hours.

6. Shooting range. Not a soul there. Go practice shooting your guns. If the lone rangemaster is watching the game you sure as hell won’t hear it.

7. Relax. I’m terrible at this. If I wanted to relax I’d just go to frickin’ bed. But IF the mood strikes, coffeehouses, restaurants and bars (not playing the game) are empty. Or grab a blanket and a book and head to the empty park.

8. (potential add-on). Start a game day babysitting service. Charge a premium. Sleep all day Monday. Win win.

So I know I’m not the only one who does it. Come on out. What do YOU do to avoid game day?

Finding French themed activities in the New Orleans area is fairly easy. Between the French immersion schools (about ten now), local French organizations, and numerous French artists and French-owned businesses, it’s not hard to get in touch with your Francophile side here. There is always some event featuring French food, wine, art, film or other attraction, often run by French expatriates or enthusiasts. But what is harder to find is the French language itself.

Francophile we’re good at, but our Francophone needs some work.

Read the rest at Nola Française –>

“Mangent, mangent, mangent…” the soft little singing drifted from the room next to me.

“Is there a little French zombie in my house?”

My giggling daughter enters the room. “Nooooon, Mommy! I’m not a zom-vee!”

“ZomBEE,” I clarify. “It’s the same word in French too.”

“I’m a poisson.”

“You’re a zombie FISH?”

More laughing. “No, just a fish,” she starts singing again. “Nagent, nagent, nagent.”

“Ohhhhh. Nagent,” I acknowledge. From one room over the verb for “to swim” sounded like “to eat.”

Read the rest at Nola Française –>

What do YOUR beanie boos do while you're away?

My French challenge has been going on for two weeks now and things are still going steady. I only manage about four days a week of home immersion instead of the seven I’d hoped for, but some schedule changes might improve that. My weekly conversation class is fun and I’m noticing results already, but I have to work on my cursing problem (that story in my next column). This week I re-read The Stranger (L’étranger), but it’s the first time I attempted it in French.

Read the rest at Nola Française→

Ms Sig Sauer and I enjoying some zen time together.

This is my first contribution to New Orleans Adventure, a blog dedicated to chronicling activities such as hiking, cycling, triathlons, geocaching, exploring ruins, weekend getaway spots, fishing, scuba diving, skydiving, and lots of other adventures in Nola.

There are more people who shoot guns legally in New Orleans than illegally. You just can’t tell from the news headlines. If you’re not a gun enthusiast then “Shooting in New Orleans” probably makes you think of darting to your car when you leave a restaurant, avoiding empty streets, setting the security alarm, or making sure you have enough cash on you to get mugged. You don’t likely think of practicing a hobby, hunting for dinner, or simply learning a valuable life skill. And if not, then you certainly won’t associate it with reflective alone time or competitive camaraderie with friends.

This is unfortunate because some of the most ‘zen’ time I’ve ever had has been with a gun. Read the rest at New Orleans Adventure–>