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By Maryline, on September 24th, 2010%
 Not feeling so hot  Turning AWAY from the cookie?? Venga had surgery on her paw earlier this week due to breaking her thumb’s toenail too close to the flesh. Ouch!
She woke up slowly from the anesthesia. Cookies were the last thing on her mind. (That is NOT like her!)
Good news though: she is totally back to her normal self, nearly ripping the mailman to pieces from behind our front door every day, stalking T during meal time, and French-kissing my husband.
All back to normal like I said!
It's so good to have you back! Share your thoughts, I LOVE comments!
By Maryline, on September 21st, 2010%
I just finished reading a can’t-put-it-down book in 24 hours. I cut into blogging and sleep time because I could not stop. That’s how much I was into it!
This happens to be one of the best feelings in the world. For me.
I love to get lost in a totally different world. A different era, new friends, breathtaking plots, intricate relationships, cautious moves, impossible romance, crime solving, and more…
The book in question? Twilight.
I know, it’s probably not the best novel of all times, but I finally wanted to know what the buzz was all about and I borrowed this book from a friend — that one and the next in the series. Highly entertaining, so it was perfect for me!
Which means? I have a lot more reading to do, though I’m already half-way through the second one. And I’m told there are two more books to the series, so this will be a busy week!
I’m thinking about starting a dedicated page on this blog about what I’m reading to keep tab and get some insight too.
What books shall I read next? (Remember it has to be compelling enough to compete with what’s left of my sleep after blogging!)
By Maryline, on September 18th, 2010%
We were out early, Poisson and I, to head out to the fair this morning.
The main attraction? Farm animals. Yay! So exciting.
Let me stop here for a second; I was born and raised in a farm, taking my son to a fair and pay $5 to give him the privilege of petting some goats and cows was not something I ever envisioned doing back in the days — when helping move the cattle at 6 in the morning was such a chore!
We met up with friends and their son of the same age, and the first thing we did was to head over to the pigs race scheduled for 10am.
Culture shock hit me again. To put things in context, this is election season. Therefore before you get to the animals and the rides, you must pass a multitude of booths with a political agenda — each trying so hard to win you over with a balloon or a sticker.
But because my die-hard Republican husband does not read my blog (I have proved this before) and was sleeping in this morning, he will never know we had a red Democratic balloon tied to our stroller the whole time we were there.
And so we watched the piglets race around a very short track surrounded by over-excited children of all ages, rooting for their favorite. It was fun. Not sure PETA would have agreed.
Then it was all over. We walked over to the nearby pens with a few intriguing lamas. Hang out there for a while.
Most of the crowd had moved on to see the rest of the animals.
I heard people walk back down from a hill behind us and say in a loud voice: “He’s not in the woods”. That’s when I knew something was wrong. Those words were directed at a mother behind a stroller carrying two little ones.
She is calling people out, telling them a little boy has gone missing.
Not her son, her friend’s son. He was just behind them, and then they turned around, he was gone. The mother is over there, talking to the rangers, alerting as many people as possible, while scanning the surroundings.
The friend continues to recruit everyone who can help. Brown track pants, a white T-shirt. He’s two, his name is L.
Many parents including my friends and I switch gears, the fair can wait. We all scatter and look for the missing boy. Call his name.
I am not letting go of T. I’m holding him a little closer in my arms as I continue to look around.
We all agree the little boy just took off and got lost; he will be found soon. But we can’t help to think of the other scenario. All it takes is a crazy person.
I loop back around the small race track to look in the parking lot. On my way back to where the boy was last seen, I see the mother, shaking, and crying. I offer her some pointless words of comfort. He is here, we are going to find him, he cannot be very far. There is no way he is leaving the fair without her.
She brings a hand to her belly, and I realize she is pregnant, probably just 4 or 5 months.
As her friend nears, she asks the devastated mother if she’s called her husband. As they walk away from me, the mother’s tears drown her voice “No! How could I tell him that!”
For a second I felt her pain as though it was mine.
And it was the worst feeling of loss, guilt, fear and love.
Another few excruciating minutes passed as the tension continued to rise.
Eventually… we heard the boy was found at the entrance of the park. He had walked all the way back and was holding on to a fence, not wanting to let go until his mom would come to get him.
Sighs of relief. We all started breathing again, and released slightly the tight grip on our children.
And just like that, life went on. We checked out the cows, the goats, the chickens…
Not your typical day at the fair.
By Maryline, on September 16th, 2010%
 Chesapeake Home I took this photo many years ago, shortly after I found myself living by the Chesapeake Bay. I had no idea, then, that it would be my Home for a long time…
(And because I am not a photographer or well-rounded editor, this shot shows exactly the sunset as I saw it that night. No editing, no tweaking. Pure beauty.)
By Maryline, on September 15th, 2010%
Very excited to announce… my very first guest post was published today at my friend Jackie’s blog, With Just a Bit of Magic. It deals with cookies & frustration… I will leave it at that! Please check it out and post your comments there!
In bonus, I posted a picture of my son giving me the devil look. But you have to click on the above link to go see that post, and read until the end!
Every time people tell me “your son looks so cute”, all I tell them is that “I did the best I could”. And it’s true! Not bad for a first try! 
Guest posts are a fantastic way to reach out to another audience, but also introduce you, my loyal friends, to another blog worth reading. And to a new friend!
Can’t wait to read your thoughts!
And guess what? Tomorrow, I’m doing it again! Stay tuned…
By Maryline, on September 12th, 2010%
I should have called this “the post that proves my husband does not ready my blog”.
We often walk our dog off her leash just outside our house because: 1-Venga is very well-behaved so it’s very convenient, and 2-our neighborhood ‘allows’ it since there is little to no traffic and plenty of grass across the street from us.
Plus? I am usually busy chasing my little guy down the pavement, so tracking a dog on top of it all? No way.
As is often the case now, I got tricked into walking Poisson to the nearby playground; the front door was unlocked, Poisson found his way to the front porch and was very determined to keep going. So I helped him down the steps, and off we went!
Just enough time for Venga to follow along and get a little potty break out of it.
I was already far from the house when I realized I didn’t have any plastic bags with me. To pick up the dog poop. (Yes, people do that in America and it makes total sense. It’s the nice result of civil responsibility and good manners.)
Inevitably the dog took a little dump on the path between the house and the playground, and though I took mental note of the spot, I did not actually go back to clean up afterward. (You see, my mind was already busy with what my little boy was going to have for lunch, and mealtimes are quite rough, so as soon as we get home and the drama starts, there is no room for second thoughts — especially not regarding dog poop pick-up!)
But…
The next day, we walked back down to the playground again, the same gang plus my husband.
And guess who stepped in dog poop? You called it! My grumpy husband who mumbled: “Oh no!! Jeez, I’ll tell you some people are just pigs!!!”, as he wiped his soles on the grass and fumed a bit longer.
I was dying inside, I’d already turned around so he could not see the smile that spread across my face, and I continued running after our little boy. I vaguely debated whether or not I should admit it was our dog’s poop under his shoe, and that the pig? Was me!
But I decided to keep this to myself. Until today that is!
That’s not all.
My husband, being a responsible citizen, actually cleaned up the mess he had just stepped in!
And as we returned home, and the dog took a second dump, we ran out of plastic bags. Story of our life. I seriously cannot make this up!
And who volunteers to run home to get another bag? Well, me, of course!
The way I look at it, I totally picked up that first dog poop. By proxy!
I’m sure this happened to you too. Nearly busted, then too busy laughing to admit the fault.
This may be your chance to open up…
P.S.: If you are in a position to alert my husband, don’t do it. Or I may revoke your access to my blog (only if I still have a blog after he finds out I’m a pig and a coward!).
By Maryline, on September 10th, 2010%
This, ladies and gentlemen, is a sneak peak at my early morning thoughts as I was walking my dog around the block. In 100 words.
You may very well have the most sexy, expensive and delicate looking panties; no matter how good they look at first, it’s the wearability that matters.
As you go about your day, you need comfort, support, and the right fit of course. And did I mention breathability?
Same goes about marriage, if you pick your partner based upon looks, fame, or attitude, well you may be in for a hell of a ride. Or a wedgie.
By Maryline, on September 9th, 2010%
Chocapic by Nestle, are my favorite cereal. Always have been, ever since I had teeth I believe.
Until recently, I thought they could not be found in the US or even bought online for US delivery. I used to ask family from France to bring them in their checked luggage whenever they came to visit.
And then in 2008 (I remember it was just around the time we got married), a Google search took me to a discussion board where someone reported seeing them in a store. I investigated further and found out that there are a few hidden spots in New Jersey where Chocapic can be found, imported from South America.
When my husband travels to NJ, he stocks up for me. Here is the result of the latest (20 boxes).
 Chocapic Stash Note: Chocapic are definitely not part of the Declutter Tuesday challenge… They will be gone in no time, trust me
What is YOUR addiction? Your secret is safe with me (and the rest of the world).
By Maryline, on September 8th, 2010%
A friend of mine, Andrea, just tagged me to answer 8 questions…
So here we go:
1. Why did you start blogging?
To offer my little bit of wisdom to this world, share my life experiences, and in the process become a better writer. Learning about social media and the blogosphere is a bonus I did not expect!
2. If you could travel anywhere in the world with no restriction of costs, where would it be and why?
I would like to make that a world tour, starting with Ireland, then Greece, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Tanzania, hop over to Madagascar then Bali, Tibet, Hawaii and come home through Chile. Nothing less.
If I could blog well enough, I might actually be able to do that one day. Spread the word and help me make my dream come true.
Realistically, my husband will want to make this a sailing trip so I may have to tweak a few of my destinations!
3. Did you have a teacher in school that had a great influence on your life? If so, what?
I can remember two teachers whom I adored, they taught be the purpose of life is to enjoy it! And they taught me respect & honesty.
4. If you could spend the day with a famous person, who would it be, and what would you do?
Just can’t pick one, I hesitate between Louis XIV and Christopher Columbus! I’d tell them how life is in 2010 and they would get a kick out of it.
5. Toilet paper — over or under?
Most the time? Out. I cannot keep toilet paper in stock in this house! When I replace the roll, it’s over, when hubby does, it’s under.
6. Name one thing in your life that you would do over if possible.
College. I went in the wrong career. If I could start my education all over, I’d learn literature, languages, graphic design and beaux arts. Instead of math, computer science and business.
7. Tell about your pets — if any.
Our dog Venga (means “come here/let’s go” in Spanish) is an import of France like me. She can bark on demand, she sleeps in bed with us, she is very protective of our little boy.
She’s actually a daughter to us. So, no, we don’t have any pets, just 2 kids, make that 3 with my husband.
8. Do you live in a small town or a large town. (You don’t have to name the town.)
Medium town, not big enough to get lost, not too small that you can’t enjoy a great run of at least 5 miles through it.
Who else is next? Answer the same eight questions on your blog, and come back to post your link in the comments section!
By Maryline, on September 5th, 2010%
The French know how to cook a thing or two. Apple tart is a staple for many French families, because dessert does not come any easier than this!
While I may not be very domesticated, I master can manage a few easy recipes from my French heritage (i.e. lessons learned from mom or grandma!) that I’ve been asked to share before, so today is the perfect opportunity to show you in pictures how I made dessert earlier this evening…
It takes 15 minutes to make, and about 30 minutes to bake.
Let’s get you started:
 Tart Prep Ingredients shown above include:
- pie dough (or you can make your own, when I have time I do! Flour, water, butter. Really hard to mess up!)
- 3-4 apples (any kind will do)
- 2 eggs
- cinnamon
- powder sugar
- lemon juice
- a tiny bit of butter
- some flour
Utensils & kitchen ware require nothing more than a tart or pie dish, a knife, a vegetable peeler, and a fork. Are you still there? Good.
- Butter up the dish slightly
- Unroll the dough into the dish and set in place, then poke with a fork (to avoid bubbles from forming and breaking the pie while baking) and get rid of the moisture with a bit of flour
 Dough in pie dish
- Wash, peel, cut and slice the apples (usually each 1/8 of apple will yield 3-4 slices — so not too thick, not paper thin), then arrange in concentric circles starting from the outside
 The apples enter the show
- Mix the eggs with the sugar & cinnamon to your taste, add a dash of milk to improve consistency as needed and pour over the apples.
- Add the lemon juice to the top before putting in the oven for 30 to 40 minutes at 400-425 F degrees.
 Voila! Enjoy with some ice cream, morning latte or mid-day espresso… or by itself.
For variety, you may add or substitute with pears, apricots, or peaches.
Does it really get any easier than this?
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