Dropping the sparkly things. Keeping the sparkle. V.O. Non sous titré

 Hey there possums,

I’ve missed a couple of blog posts due to sparkly holidays in Paris, partially up inside the Eiffel Tower at midnight on my eldest daughter’s 13th birthday. But that’s another story...

Scintillating as she is, it’s a satisfying contrast to sit outside with a cool beer at home and write to you.

Here in the Toulouse countryside life has chilled down a bit even though on the calendar it’s not technically Autumn. I love the way that nature doesn’t give a fig (all puns intended) about the calendar. She just does her thing - flowing along like the ‘girl in the green skirt,’ as my friend Simone used to say - never regretting what she leaves behind and resolutely moving on into the future. Happy as the proverbial lark.

That got me pondering whether I couldn’t do with a little of Nature’s wisdom for myself.

Over the last few months I’ve taken the ‘Great Decluttering from Hell’ to new heights; randomly getting rid of STUFF with reckless abandon and revelling in a keen sense of achievement at each permanent removal from the general vicinity of the house. YEAH!

What hit me during the process is that I definitely don’t like to admit to being attached to things, even sentimentally. I especially don’t like admitting this to myself ;)  

Several house moves, including changes in country and hemisphere, a house fire, and a ‘philosophy’ of detachment have forced led me to let go of most things really easily.

Ahem. Or so I thought.

So WHY in heaven’s name have I been holding on to no less than EIGHT chandeliers and 10 pairs of sparkly sconces for so long ? They have been gradually working on their dust robes in my garage for three years. No. Four. Yoiks!

 Seriously, was I ever really going to need EIGHT chandeliers for any future cocoon? You couldn’t exactly call our spacious farm house a château now, even allowing for a little Marseillais exagération!

Then Bang! it hit me (again) just how comforting and irritating it was to have them perched in the rafters taking space.

Sacré bleu!! Do you realise how much ‘possibility’ EIGHT chandeliers and 10 pairs of sparkly wall lights can represent? How much safety ? A back up plan ! If my new venture doesn’t work out… then maybe I could go back to the old one… I wouldn’t have to be, gulp, a FAILURE  if it went kaput. I could sneakily move back to my past life…without anyone, least of all myself ;), noticing.

Do I want to ?

NO !

So last week I mercilessly sorted through my ‘past life’ and said firm tatas gentle farewells to my ‘stuff.’ I whispered tenderly to my chandeliers, old papers, antique glass bottles, sconces etc etc ad infinitum, that I couldn't use them any more but that someone else would. Someone who was looking for just that special object at a bargain price to sparkle up their home, or tickle their ‘inspiration’ bone. 

Dammit ! Ouch! I loved those sparkles and those old papers... Maybe... NO!

I explained to a slightly daunted, very grabby part of me that it’s ok to let go of ‘unfinished projects’ if the right time for that project has definitely past. Not easy to admit that one either.  I need whip away the symbolic safety net in order to jump both feet into my new venture. What ever I don’t let go of, holds me back.

Y’ know, sort of like if Nature decided that the trees should grow new leaves next year yet keep all the old, dead, brown ones from this Autumn. I mean, how much sense does THAT make ?

So last Sunday I bit the bullet. The sparkly things had to go. Beaker packed the car up chokker block with my stuff and I trundled off to join a friend at a huge vide-grenier (car boot sale/flea market) for the ‘Great Letting Go.’

Eureka ! It worked. Sold all of my chandeliers but one that I’m keeping for Lulu Labonne, my amazingly talented, artist cousin who has mastered the fine art of nailing Jelly to walls, cooked for the stars and helps film lions in the Mara when the fridge is empty. Maybe she’ll add some sparkle to a Masai tent with it.

Anne, my calligraphy mentor, and I made a fabulously festive day of it,  with wine and very non diet, exceptionally yummy munchies.  Damn great way to celebrate the new season and  all that incoming space I say :).

So now that I've cleared out, I'm wishing you a spacious and truly sparkly week too. 

Love,

Ange
PS. Have some scribbles to do for a wedding present this week. Will show the results in my next post. If the Mess Monsters get over all their ills that is...

Something thrilling every day...

"YOu're going skiing?" you say. 

"Up to the French Southern Alpes in a tiny village called Allos?
My my, that sounds WONDERFUL!"

And of course it will be fabuleux to catch up with my sweet messmonsters and watch them whizzing past me as I feebly cry out, 'Wait for Mummy! Don't go so fast! DON'T BREAK A LEG!'

... IF, I ever actually arrive!

You see, there are nation-wide petrol strikes happening in France. Now don't you worry there possums. I'm well used to it by now. In any given year there are at least 4 or 5 country-crippling transport strikes that take the French population and any one else vagabonding through the French countryside hostage. However, other than a lot of indignant hot air blowing and general grumbling at the inconvenience, plus a bit of finger wagging to emphasise the exasperation level, your average Frenchie would never forgo their constitutional right to strike - even if that means watching struggling small businesses go under while big multi nationals and or public sector companies complain about poor pay and health benefits etc, ad infinitum. Yes - Strikes are almost a national sport in France, bringing out the same fervour and animosity in the population that other countries save for Rugby matches and your average Olympic games events.

A good transport transport-halting strike happens (nearly always at holiday time, most often Christmas) at least once every year, when it will get the most media attention and of course, have the greatest effect by leaving families stranded in other countries or cities. Of course, this can have the secretly coveted side effect of providing extra days off work but leaves hotels perplexed as to how to cope with emergency double bookings, and hand waving, irate non-French speaking tourists like 'Strines,' Kiwis and ...Markins!!

 I believe some strike attempts were thwarted this year as snow and ice stopped nationwide, indeed international travel before resident strikers even had a chance to whip out and polish last year's slogans... This has obviously left them strike-deprived and I'm most surprised they aren't off on worker's compo because of it!! But ... as it turns out, conveniently in time for me to pop off skiing, they're back in force with a vengeance!

So, as you read this I will be somewhere in the middle of a 5h + adventure, amusing myself immensely with the petrol gauge on my trusty little car. But you all knew I LOVED adventure, didn't you!! This time, fate may throw me together with some other lovely people on the side of the road somewhere; or if I'm luckier, in the comfort of a petrol-depleted gas station. People who, like me, will not be able to fill their car up and move along to their desired destination. I meet people under the strangest circumstances so I am most curious to see how this is going to turn out. An adventure it will be none the less !! I know I will make it to Aix en Provence on the car's current level but after that ...Where? Mind you, there are worse places to be stuck in than Aix! Maybe I could hitch from there to Jeanne's deluxe Provence spa and health retreat!!

Of course there are many thrilling things to do in France other than wagering bets on how far your car can get on a tank full of petrol. The above image offers yet another example!
 Now get your specs out possums, or click on the image to make it bigger because one vintage American magazine has seriously confirmed my theory that something even more thrilling than wearing a haute couture Chanel gown into Ladurée happens in France Every. Single. Day. Strikes notwithstanding! Of course, I do not imagine that chiming out '11pm' at the top of the Eiffel Tower every evening would be quite as thrilling after a month or so (you know, a job's a job after a while ;-) as driving into the sunset with a clear destination in mind but never in fact knowing where you may end up... or who with... But that depends entirely on what constitutes your 'thrill' criteria then doesn't it?

I'll let you know my personal verdict on that when I get back ... if I ever get back!

So just in case ... I mean, you never know... I had better tell you about THIS!

For ephemera lovers and artists everywhere ... LaWendula at her blog Woven Letters hosts a wonderful theme-based paper swap every month in which I have taken part twice. This month I was lucky enough to be paired up with Jennifer Black a very talented mixed media artist from Texas who creates the most amusing and delightful cards from her original artworks. Amongst the HUGE envelope of 'stuff' that she sent me - the above pieces were just three of the pages she had added. There are other ones that just cracked me up just as much that, if I ever make it back to Toulouse, I promise to share with you.

Now, thanks to Jennifer, I know that wherever I am between Toulouse and Allos I will never really be alone. We will all be together.  Listening in awe to that lovely little man thrillingly chiming out 11pm for the whole world to hear from the top of the glittering Eiffel Tower...

Why, I may even chance upon some Markins!!