The Thanksgiving Weekend - Part 1

S and I have decided, just screw Florida or Phoenix we’re retiring to Paris. We'll buy a tiny one or two room flat in an ancient building that’s precariously perched on the side of Montmartre. We’ll have the ‘Basilique du Sacre Cœur’ to our backs and all off Paris at our feet. We’ll have a tiny and slightly unstable little balcony just big enough for two chairs and a café table where we’ll eat our meals or just sit and goggle at the view. In the mornings we'll raise our breakfast cups of strong coffee in a good morning salute to the 'Tour Eiffel' in the far off distance to the west, at noon we'll raise our luncheon glass of wine to the glittering gold dome of Napoleon’s tomb and the Hôtel des Invalides and at dinner we'll toast all of Paris with a fine Bordeaux as it lies glittering and twinkling below us. I’ll learn to sketch and join the throng of would be artists out front of the basilica, where I too will accost foreign strangers and barter to sketch their portraits in front of the church. S can give guided tours of the 'Butte de Montmartre' and show foreigners the beauty of the hills’ cobbled streets, its windmills and vineyard…

Ah, but I’m starting in the middle of our story; Denis would have hated that…

Well, Thanksgiving dinner was a noisy and messy affair; and all of our guests arrived bearing gifts. Two beautiful bouquets of flowers were brought, and let me say that no one does flowers like the French, I have never in my life seen flower arranging raised to this sort of an art. Flowers in France are terribly important, there’s at least one flower shop in every village. Castanet alone has 5. Elian (French coach) and her man Daniel brought a case of wine (eight bottles) from his family’s vineyard and Elian made the pumpkin pie. Olivier (one of S’s colleagues) and his wife Nadine brought flowers and two bottles of wine of an older vintage that we are saving for a special occasion. Sandrine (the other of S’s colleagues) and Matthew brought flowers and a bottle white wine. Anne and Gilles (parents of the famous Carla) brought chocolates and a bottle of wine. Maggie (French coach) and Vincent brought Paula (Cute and single Irish friend - ::nudges Rich::) and as a group they brought chocolates and Oreo cookies. We probably went through 5 bottles of wine as a group and the rest is now a part of our expanding wine collection. The evening began with aperitifs, because the French must start every meal with before dinner drinks, it loosens them up for conversation. Then we had to explain what thanksgiving was about, why we celebrate it and, that since it’s not a Catholic holy day they don’t get to celebrate it. The children were adorable and incredibly well behaved. There was Maureen 10 ½, Charlotte 8 ½, Orian 2 ½, and of course Carla 3 ½. Now I’ve decided that our Michael Christopher is the perfect match for Orian. Michael see photo below.

The funniest thing about the evening was the complete inability of our french guests to grasp the concept of 'passing'. We sat at dinner where I first forced our guests to participate in the age old ritual of having each person tell one thing they were grateful for in the previous year. As you can imagine I got some pretty odd looks, but they did it. Then I explained that everyone should grab a dish of food, serve themselves and then pass it to the person on their right. Simple instructions, I thought, but a short time into the meal I still hadn't seen the mashed potatoes. I called down to Matthew at the far end of the table to pass the mashed potatoes and he grabs the bowl and walks it over to me. No, no, no, let me explain the concept again. The problem is, I think, that they are too polite to interrupt their neighbors conversations with so much as a nudge to ask them to pass anything. At one point I look over to Elian who is sitting next to me and see that she's just holding the bowl of cranberry sauce because there's no place to set it down. "Elian what you have to do is pass it in an aimless 'pass this down' fashion to the person next to you, then they'll pass it along until it's being passed around the table with no real goal and eventually someone else will find a place to set it down." So taking my advice she hands the red stuff to Daniel and says "Pass this down". He's so absorbed in conversation that he serves himself some and hands the bowl back to her. Doh! This is how it went all evening. If someone wanted something they'd get up and walk to where it was and serve themselves. I guess the bright side is that they have the concept of 'buffet' down.

The 'before' shot of the dinner table. We had to push all of the living room furniture to the walls and bring in a table from outside. The dinning room was just no where near big enough for this large of a table. We also had to buy 6 plastic Ikea folding chairs to accomodate everyone.

Mags and Vincent, or as he is affectionately referred to by his friends, ' booby'. Trust me the man plays a mean rugby game, nobody makes fun of that name, I mean, just look at him.

From right to left we have Elian, Daniel, Gilles, Nadine (holding the very tired Orian), Charlotte sitting in Olivier's lap (her dad) and Matthew. You can see the top of S's head and all the way to the left is the side of Sandrine's head.

Talk amongst yourselves. To be continued...