Can I Keep It?

Apres et le Fin

I have been lying in bed, two dogs pressed like hot water bottles to my side for the past week.  Watching bad TV and sneezing until I thought my sore throat was completely etched.  Gah.  I'm sorry for the tardy end to this lengthy adventure. (Who knew you could pack so much into three days? And so little into seven?)

Hud needed to have the French national sandwich, the Croque Madame!  So we stopped off for a bite to eat at a little bistro.  As you do. 

I had a beautiful Caprese salad.  They peeled the tomatoes!  Fresh Mozerella! Giant fragrant basil!

Fortified, it was off to pay our respects to Napoleon Bonaparte at the Hotel des Invalides. 

Napoleon's Tomb rests at the base of a rotunda, under the glow of a golden altar.

You enter by way of stairs on the backside of the altar and between two giant statues.

That's my red head on the lower right.  His big toe was the length of my hand. 

Above the doorway is a quote by Napoleon, "I want my ashes to rest on the banks of the Seine, amid the French people that I loved so much."

He rests inside of series of caskets on the bottom floor past the entry to the war hero catacombs where his son lays.

On the walls surrounding him are scenes of him as a Grecian god, enumerating his many conquests.

At the rear of the tomb is a gold encrusted statue of the emperor.

We turned to go back upstairs.

Past the catacombs of war heroes.

We made our way back up the marble stairs.

Out by the altar.

To view the tombs of other notable war heroes of France. Lyautey, Marshall of France who passed in 1934.

And the tomb of Marshall Foch, from the First World War among others.

But the day was getting late and we made the long stroll up under the Eiffel Tower and back to the hotel for a brief nap before going to the Eiffel Tower for New Year's Eve!

BONNE ANNEE!

It was simply the best New Year's Eve of my life.  Thank you, my sweet husband for such a beautiful memory.  I'll treasure it always.

I hope each of you are as blessed as I am.

 

 

Dejeuner a Midi

New Year's Eve, we started the day by tossing a coin.  Go to the Opera? Too far away. Sacre Coeur?  Did a church already.  The Bastille?  Maybe.  But knowing Hud is a Civil War fan, I figured that maybe he would like to go to France's favorite war hero's final resting spot --Hotel des Invalides.  It's right next to the Musee de l'Armee so he could get two birds with one stone.  What I didn't know is the best way to procede.  Hud ran down to ask Zahir at the front desk.  He sent us left out of the hotel, left at the first street, go three blocks and head right between a museum and a gallery and voila!

Go under the Eiffel Tower! There was a Christmas village set up at the base and a small fair.  And 9,485,283 and a 1/2 of our closest friends and their dogs.  I really needed my dog.

We made a left at the carousel and headed for the Tour Eiffel!

Through the hoards of visitors. Closer...

Closer...

Under and out!

Another left.  A little to the right and follow the golden dome to this:

The Hotel des Invalides is a large church finished in 1706.  It served as a large complex of buildings, apartments, hospital and church to provide for soldiers who had served in various wars over the years.  Napoleon and his son were exhumed from Elba and Austria respectively and moved to the church in the 1800s.  Actually, Hitler (!) thought the son should be with his father and had the remains moved to the catacombs of the Invalides.  Who knew he ever did anything nice?  Well, I have read that he liked cats, so there must be some kernel of good in everyone.

First we visited the Musee de l'Armee to the left of the dome.  It's a vast complex housing the armory of France's great warring past.

I loved this Art Nouveau pitchfork gate.  But onto the show!

First, you pass though one man's vast collection of examlples of all the outfits soldiers wore throughout the ages.  I said, " Wow.  I've never seen such a big doll collection."  Hud said, "Good thing you didn't say that in French."  Hmmph.  It's a DOLL COLLECTION.  I don't care what he called it.

I had no idea the suits of armour worn by knights were so intricately and masterfully etched! 

This one belonged to Louis XIV.  As Hud and I wandered around, we started to notice that all the artifacts we were drawn to belonged to him.  Louis and I could have definitely shopped together.

Even the horses were suited up for defense.

And the children.

At first, I couldn't figure out what the hook was for on many of the suits.  Je parle comme un bebe, but I can read a good bit.  Finally, I read that it was a support on Jousting suits.  You know. For the jousting ram.  As you do.

I was amazed that they still had the pantaloons for this suit.  The fabrics were why the lighting was kept so low and flash was not allowed.

The variety of these powder flasks was so interesting.  They ranged from antlers to ivory to a small bejeweled turtle shell.  That's it, second in, from the bottom right.

This ancient shield was carved from wood, covered in leather and adorned with paint and guilding.

Little known fact, as a child, the Furry Godmother was pretty good with a crossbow.  This one inlaid with ivory could convince me to take up the sport again, I think.

But the most amusing piece of armory came in the form of a canon, celebrating the marriage of a duke and given by Cardinal Richelieu. 

It had a portrait of the bride.

Lovely.  The handles were a carving of the bride and groom in an embrace. Naked!

Isn't it romantic?  Nothing says love like your very own weapon of mass destruction!

Hud said, "This is wonderful!  I'll get the Metals Museum started on ours the minute we get back!"

Quelle romantique!

I'll leave it here,because Napoleon deserves a post to himself.

Adieu pour la nuit!

 

 

Deux

The Etoile Trocadero, on the Rue Ste. Didier, is perfectly situated for easy access to lots of Paris landmarks.  We needed some cash exchanged, so we headed off for the international banks on the Champs Elysee, just a few blocks from the hotel.  At the entrance to the Champs Elysee, Hud and I were greeted with this:

The Arc de Triomphe!

We procured some euro and were off to the next adventure.

The Louvre!

Trust me and get there VERY early if you want to get in before it closes.  The queue started at the I.M. Pei pyramid entrance and wound through a snakish line back up the east side, up the stairs, into the back courtyard where it edged its way around the perimiter.  That's the queue in the back of the photo.

You get lots of time to admire the architecture.  And the sculptures that grace the niches and facades.

Hours even.

But finally, after about three hours, you get to enter the I.M.Pei sculpture.

 

And view the treasures of the world.

Michelanglo's Slave. 

Pysche.

So many glorious works of art.

We braved the heaving, swarming mass of humanity to see La Jocande or the Mona Lisa. 

And the Winged Victory.  She's my favorite.  Her placement at the top of this staircase, famed by an archway is impeccable.  And the folds of marble practically move in the breeze, so expertly are they crafted.

 

And of, course, the Venus de Milo.

I could have stayed in the paintings for a lifetime.

This one commanded by Cardinal de Richelieu was Hud's pick of the litter.  Each face had its own character, even up in the smallest balcony.

The building itself is a wonder of architecture.

But all great things must end I suppose.

So we bid the Louvre, "Adieu!"

To tell the truth, I was hungry and over stimulated by the artwork and the crowds.  So we left by way of the church in the back.

And made our way to a nearby bistro for a snack.

The night before, on our way back to the hotel, was a locksmith.  Three doors down from the front door. What luck!  We popped in a bought a lock.  So after we finished our lunch, we crossed over the Pont Neuf and headed for Notre Dame.

Hud wrote our names on the front.  And the names of all our furry friends on the back. (See, Zali!  You did make it to Paris!)

And I put it on the fence, near the top, so you can easily read it.

And now we're still in Paris on a bridge overlooking Notre Dame.  If you go there, you can look for us.

As we wandered back to the Metro, we did a little window shopping.  And who would have guessed that I would have immediately stumbled onto the main drag of pet stores on the left bank?

Guess who found some contraband she wanted to smuggle into the states?  Could it be me?  The Furry G?

Look!  He's just like Zali!

Or a bagfull of these would have suited me just fine.

They were in a part of the Left Bank that had gardening shops, too.

Olive trees?  Want.

And clementine orange trees.

It was all so lovely, I had to get away quickly, lest I snap up a few pets and some primroses and make Hud purchase a little place for me to settle in.

* Brilliantly flocked live trees speckled the city.  Our hotel had a lavendar one in the lobby.

Hud got me out of there toute suite!

Breaking Tradition

Zali may never speak to me again.

Non, eye weel not!  You go to ze Paree witout ze Zali?  Quelle domage! Va tu fait cuire un oeuf! You do not luff your Zali!

We never really go anywhere that does not involve work.  But this year that all changed!

Hud wisked me away to Paris after Christmas to celebrate the New Year!  The first day we arrived late, so we went to a nearby deli recommended by Zahir, the manager at the Etoile Trocadero.  We had a split a tasty ham and cheese crepe and a salad, had a little walk and tumbeld into bed to sleep off the jet lag.  In the morning, we boarded the Metro and headed for Notre Dame on the Ile de la Cite. 

We made our way through the streets slowly.  Hud was taking pictures of everything.  And I do mean everything!

Each and every alley was documented on our journey.  We approached Notre Dame from the rear.  I thought he knew what it was already, but as we turned the corner, I was waiting for him to suck in his breath at its beauty.  I said, "There it is..." And he just stared across the park in front of the cathedral and said, "Where?"  So I turned him to face it. 

His face glowed with wonder. His eyes wide and child-like.  He whispered, "Oh, my..."  We winded our way throught he crowd and entered Notre Dame on the left hand of God as the pilgrims did in the 1100s when it was built in the honor of St. Denis.  St. Denis is the patron saint of Paris and the first bishop of Paris.  Sent to spread Christianity, he held mass in nearby caves and was later martyred.

Several other churches were built on the site , but removed for the emergence of Notre Dame in 1163.  It will be celebrating 850 years in 2013.  And I have to say the old lady is lovely.

They were saying mass as they do five times a day.  Seven on weekends.

 

There is beauty everywhere you turn and Hud was seduced by it.  This frieze surrounding the nave and choir details the days of Christ.

 

All the walls are painted with allegorical scenes, repaired after the revolution destroyed quite a bit of its original glory.

And exqisite sculptures of abound.

 

Not even the ceilings escaped decoration.

Hud asked if this really were Heaven.

And thinking that it might be, as we passed by Mary's alter, I lit a candle for Evelyn and her family.  I turn to the Virgin when I am struggling or in need of aid.  She answers most of my prayers with assistance and hope.

*for Evelyn, in loving memory*

The Christmas decorations are left until the Epiphany, so we got to enjoy those as well.

"But we still haven't seen the best part!" I told an astonished Hud. And we made our way outdoors.

The exterior is covered in scultures and bas relief, telling the woes of saints and the history of the bible.  On the right hand of God, as you exit, just above your head on the door jam is Adam and Eve and the Serpent.  Love the way the tree modestly covers their privates.

And how the half human snake gazes adoringly at Eve.

We made our way past gargoyles and spires.

To my favorite part of the cathedral.

FLYING BUTTRESSES!  I think that deserves a Ta Da! Don't you?

This place is so cool the public toilets in the back are faux bois.  Faux bois toilets, people!

Hungry, we crossed the bridge to get lunch to find it was covered in locks and bits of plastic on which were written the names of lovers who had been to the historic site.

And we vowed to return with a lock of our own.

The restaurant we chose was the A.O.C. They use local fresh ingredients.  The name is a nod to the French form of the FDA.

I'd rarely seen Hud happier.  We had blood sausage salad and warm goat cheese salad to start. 

For mains, the A.O.C. serves French comfort food.  I tried the rich fricassee de rosingnols and Hud had a succulent pork stew.

All of it was divine.  But my favorite was the blood sausage salad.  I think we surprised the waiter with our choices.  Having read Thomas Keller's The French Laundry, I believe in utilizing the entire animal.  If it gave it's life for your sustenance, then you have a responsibility to use all of it.

Lunch was at three, so by the time we got to Sainte Chappelle, the queue was too long to make it in by closing.

Sainte Chappelle is the home of the Crown of Thorns.  But we would have to see it another day.  We strolled on to the Pont Neuf.

And shared a kiss, as is tradition when visiting Paris.

The Seine roiled swiftly below us.  It was a great way to wrap up our day on the Ile de la Cite.

We said adieu to the Pont Neuf Parc and caught the Metro back to the Trocadero.

Okay.  Maybe I did browse for  a few antiques along the way.

I ahm Freench, Dammeet! Eye leek to rahde on planes.  Everyone has a doog.  You could ave taken moi. Je pout maintenant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

No One Was Stirring

This has been an exceptionally quiet Christmas.  A much needed respite from all of the drama last year.  Zali thinks he getting a car.  Simone wants some cheese. Zoe wants a bone.  Carmen wants a brain.  And Aida wants to sit in my lap for a month.

The two of us?  It looks like we will want for nothing!

That many presents for two people is an embarrassment, huh? 

Merry Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Sunday or whatever you celebrate!  We hope you get whatever your heart desires!

Gratuitous Shot of Zali

Zali, ever the camera shy, has made it to the cover of the WinterArts Christmas card.  Playing the baby Jesus to our middle-aged Madonna and Magi.

Ansley is offering one of her hand batiked ostrich eggs.  Dennis is gifting the dog in the manger one of his hand turned bowls.  And Dorothy is delivering some of her fine jewelry. My halo is by Brian Blankenship.

I know.  It's completely ridiculous.

I poop on eet, Muhzer.

We tried to use Simone, but she is as camera shy as he is a camera hog.  All he has to hear is the click of a shutter or the flash of a light and Zali is posing.  Head over the shoulder. *click* Pouting. *click* Licking his lips.  *click*.

He's better than most models on the cover of Vogue.

But don't fret.  I won't leave you without a gratuitous shot of Simone.

You are welcome.

 

*WinterArts is open every day right through Christmas Eve at four o'clock.  Come by and get some hand-made gifts for your loved ones by some of Memphis' best local artists!*

 

*First photograph by Hud Andrews.  The other two are you know who.

It's So Pretty

SNOW!  It's snowing!  Big gorgeous flakes.  The baby fish in the front fountain are are huddled around the heater, biting at the flakes as they hit the surface of the water.  Kids are so much fun.

The streets are clear, but everything else is covered in white. 

The neighbor's houses.

Our house.

The ornaments Hud hangs on the pink dogwood in front of the picture window.

All blanketed in winter and it's still technically fall. 

Zali says we should stay inside and watch it from the warmth of the house.  I agree.

Happy snow day.

WinterArts Wine-ing

Not to be cheesy, but...
 

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Join WinterArts for a Meet the Artists Reception Friday evening, Dec. 2nd from 5 to 8 pm            Saddle Creek South 2055 West Street at Poplar Germantown, TN 38138         (and bring a friend!)

Doubly Thankful

This year, we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving by having a few drinks with the ducks.

The mallard was being particularly randy, putting up a rooster tail of water as he chased the hens about the basin of the fountain.

The spread that the Peabody puts forth is not to be equaled.  We had fried green tomatoes with creme fraiche, cheese, and scallions.

Our favorite is always the seafood course.  Plump shrimp, caviar, smoked salmon, scallops, sushi, and smokey grilled vegetables spilled over the edges of our plates.

We talked about all the things that make our life so very special.  I am thankful for such a loving, talented, wonderful person to share my life.  And put up with my pet obsession.

And dessert.  I was thankful that it was a splurge day and the Peabody never scrimps on the dessert table!

There were tiny creme brulees, dark chocolate cupcakes, fruit tarts, ice cream with a thousand choices of toppings, and rich gooey brownies.

And all the while we were serenaded by the lovely sounds of Francis and her harp.  Hud knows her from his wedding photography days. 

The Peabody chefs had prepared all the holiday decorations. There is a sleigh and fondant covered elves.

And a tiny gingerbread town with a real train running through it.

Friday, we celebrated at home.  I made a spicy turkey, bourbon sweet potato souffle, turnip greens, fluffy biscuits, cranberry/raspberry sauce, and my Grandmother Elois' sausage/cornbread dressing.  I have to make it for every major holiday.  There is no recipe.  Just the memory of helping her make it.  I feel it helps me to keep her alive.

The kids were all in attendance.  That's a snippet of Simone's tail in the lower right.  Aida was on the table.  I know.  Stop it.  Even sweet Carmen came down and made a rare appearance for the meal.

And I was very thankful for that.

I hope everyone is having a joyful and happy holiday!

Till Death Us Do Part

A couple of weeks ago we spent a glorius morning at my favorite cemetary witnessing two dear friends say their vows.

 

It was a gorgeous fall day.  The leaves sprinkled down on them like confetti during the ceremony.  Keith and Donna made a handsome couple.

My favorite part of the reception was when Colin, the ring bearer, burst into big alligator tears.  He asked his father, "Is Donna weally marwied?"  His heart broke at the reply.  He was inconsolable.  He just wanted to go home.

Turns out, he had given her a ring the night before. 

After a few Bloody Marys, we roamed the grounds in the sparkling sunshine.  Elmwood Cemetary is filled with interesting monuments from the Victorian Era. Great concrete towers of faux bois tower over somebody's family.

That's me beside it.  I am six feet tall and wearing heels.  The delicacy of the vine work is amazing.

Most of the prominent Memphis who built the city are buried there.  This one is a famous stain glass maker.

Everywhere you turn, there is something wonderous to see.

It really gave new meaning to "Till death us do part".