If the Shoe Fits

I just cleaned out my shoe closet. That may not sound like a big deal, but my 2010 living simply goals will not include living without many pairs of shoes. Cleaning out my shoe closet means moving all of my sandals and flip-flops to an under-the-bed plastic container and putting all of my sturdy boots and close-toed shoes in the cubbies in my closet. These are the cubbies that my husband delightedly calls my Imelda rack.

By this admission, it's pretty easy to figure out that I live in a seasonal climate. Although we sometimes say that Chicago has two seasons, winter and construction, we do actually have four seasons. I try to keep my toenails in view well into November and pull out the sandals as soon as I can bear it in April -- my southern Ohio roots just cannot be modified by the change in where I live. I can truthfully say that I wear all of my shoes at sometime or another during the year, and I do replace shoes when they wear out and get rid of the old ones. I fully believe that I deserve a medal for cleaning out my shoe closet, considering how much I love shoes.

A friend of mine said that once you give up on high heels, you have given up on life. I can remember the day as if it was yesterday that I gave up high heels for good, it's so vividly imprinted in my brain. I had to go to a shoe store and buy a new pair of lower-heeled shoes because my feet hurt so badly I could not walk another step in my very cute spectator pumps. Sigh. I've been wearing sensible shoes for a long time now, and it is sometimes hard to believe that I no longer wear shoes like these to-die-for booties. They meet all of my requirements -- open-toed, hot pink, glittery. The feet and knees that were destroyed by too many years of marching band and being overweight just can't handle it anymore. So sad.

The thing is, each shoe has a story, and sometimes it's hard to throw those stories away. As I put away this year's sandals, I remember the first time I wore those gold Finn Comforts in San Francisco during spring break, never thinking that I might get a blister. By the time I got to London in July, they were so well worn in that they never gave me a whisper of trouble. Then there are the two pairs of flip-flops that my daughter gave me for pedicures; I can never give them up. I wore two pairs of black leather European shoes all over Vienna and Salzburg when we traveled to Austria; they worked to keep us anonymous in the post 9/11 European climate that hated American tourists and I still have both pairs of those finely crafted shoes. My new Toe Warmers boots are the best boots that I have ever owned; they have taken me all over Chicago this Christmas vacation with warm and dry tootsies, as well as supporting my arches and ankles and protecting me from hard pavements with their thick soles. These boots allowed me to spend quality time with my family and enjoy life without my feet hurting. Pretty high praise for a simple winter boot, I think.

As I plan my trip to France this summer, I will once again be deciding which shoes will "fit" my needs. Since I have to pick just a couple of pairs in which to tour, I must be very careful, and I love the anticipation of shopping for France. Best of all, the shoes that come home will tell more stories.

What shoes "fit" you? Are you going to walk in some different shoes this year? I'd love to hear your stories. Bonne année!

Famille/Amis

I can't remember a holiday season in which I have had more fun than I have had this year. Starting with Thanksmas in Ohio with my mother and brothers and their families, through a lovely long weekend with my husband and our grown children, and all the way through a full staycation week of Chicago activities, every day is full of delights to be savored. I feel very blessed to be a part of such an amazing circle of friends and family.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone beyond the people I force to read this blog actually read it, but based on the thoughtful presents I received this year -- from the bouche de Noel to the copy of Up to the Villa (a travel memoir) -- I guess there are friends and family who are enjoying my craziness. I appreciate every single one of your kind comments and gifts.

Having recently finished reading My Year in France by Julia Child and viewing Julie and Julia, I can't help recalling the scenes in both the book and the movie where Child gathers in a group of people and creates a family wherever she lives. She lost her mother early, her relationship with her own father and stepmother was strained and it appears that she was disappointed to remain childless, but she made up for this sadness in her life by being a catalyst who drew disparate people together.

Not surprisingly, her lasting friendships appear to have revolved around food and travel. The Valentine's Day scene in Julie and Julia in Paul and Julia's French dining room is poignant and felt very meaningful to me as it triggered memories of the wonderful meals I have shared with family and friends in 2009. Even when I went to the movie web site and watched the trailer, I was reminded of incredible meals from the movie and from my own life.

After reading both books and bookending the books with viewings of the movie, I heartily recommend that you do all three. The movie is good enough to stand on its own, but your enjoyment and understanding of the characters involved will be deepened by reading the books.

I came away from this holiday season with a sense of wonderment about the blessings in my life. Somehow, this very flawed individual has managed to be a part of a magical circle of people who make my life worth living. My devoted husband, my amazing children, my sweet mother, my loving brothers, sisters-in-law, brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews (including darling Libbie) all bring me joy every day. And then there's my other family -- the incredible group of friends who are there for me no matter what -- and are always bearing the necessary food and wine. Like Julia, I am a brash, overly-large American who has a purpose and contentment in her life. C'est magnifique!

The lines are blurred -- my friends are my family and my family members are my friends. What more could a girl want for Christmas?

Star Stalking and Other Guilty Pleasures

Here I am again, wondering how ten days could have passed since I last wrote a post. I recently had a conversation with a group of my students about how quickly time passes; it was interesting to hear them apply mathematics to life's passage. They told me, albeit politely, that the reason I felt that time passes so quickly had to do with the percentage of my life that I experienced every year (read: you're old). They, on the other hand, are only thirteen and fourteen years old and their two weeks of winter vacation represents a significant part of their young lives. For me, these two weeks will fly by and it will barely feel as if I got any vacation.

Luckily, in the last two weeks I have finished one book and two movies that I want to share with you. I previously discussed A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle; I had some trouble finishing the book, but loved the movie. The chronological organization of the book translated well to the screen and the addition of a fully developed wife in Lindsay Duncan was a welcome addition to Mayle's vignettes.

It was with some trepidation that I pulled out the second book in the Provence series, Toujours, Provence. Although Mayle brings back characters from the first book and treats his vignettes with the same light humor that he used in A Year in Provence, this book has a feel of being recycled. I also became uncomfortable with the fact that he never refers to his wife by name; she is always "my wife" and rarely plays an important role in the stories. Perhaps that is their agreement, but I know that if I were writing a book such as this, it would be hard to keep my spouse out of the stories. We are a team and our stories star both of us! Still, Mayle is a good writer who knows how to tell a story; my students could learn from his voice. Maybe I should choose a safe story to use to teach narrative structure.

While researching Mayle I stumbled across a blog that includes several Mayle sightings and a photo. I chucked about this, because it could easily have been me taking the photo with Peter Mayle. Once my son and husband had to forcefully drag me away from a possible star-sighting in New York; I was willing to wait to see if the enormous limousine carried someone important. I actually took a photo of Barry Manilow at O'Hare airport; he was delightful and willing to pose. It was too bad that his botoxed face didn't really move when he smiled for the photo. I also just heard that my daughter's friend actually waited on Puck from Glee and engaged in conversation with him. I would have definitely been right there, but I guess I would have had to ask for an autograph for my "granddaughter." And right here, I'll put in a shout out to my a cappella chat room friends. I love that you love star-stalking, too.

I also found that my husband was right when he reminded me that Mayle wrote A Good Year, which was made into a movie starring Russell Crowe. I'm a sucker for these types of movies and thoroughly enjoyed it at least twice. That would be fun to watch this week while I'm on vacation. It got reasonably good reviews and Crowe is worth looking at for an hour and a half. For those of you who are snowed in, try A Good Year for a glimpse of a warmer climate.

I'm hopeful that there will be time for me to dig into My Life in France in the next few days. I need me some Julia before I cook up a storm this weekend. Bon Noel!

No Cocoa for Coco Lovers

Since the only people who read this blog are my friends and family, I don't need to spend much time telling you why I haven't posted since November 18. This little thing called my job got in my way most of the time. Sixty-two research papers, 186 tests, and 124 reader responses later, I need to be back in my own writing groove, rather than jiving (and sometimes writhing) to middle school rhetoric!

I have to admit that most nights I have fallen asleep with the book on my face, but I've slogged my way through Savoir Flair! by Polly Platt. Written in 2000, it's subtitled "211 Tips for Enjoying France and the French" and that's exactly what it is about. I have learned from Platt that the French are going to hate me; I'm friendly, laugh and talk loudly, I don't speak French, and as Jessie and my dad would say, I'm a very sturdy German girl and I will never be able to fit into a real Chanel suit.

I had a fake Chanel suit once, which I practically wore out because I loved it so much. I still have my fake Chanel quilted handbag with the chain strap, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't carry a plastic "Chanel" handbag in Paris. It came as quite a blow to me to learn that I will never actually own a real Chanel suit, even if someday I get rich.

I learned from Savoir Flair! that Chanel was not designing for my body type. Apparently the required French body should have very small shoulders and a petite waistline, and there isn't petite bone in my body, despite my short stature.

Several of my students wrote their research papers on French culture and I learned a lot about Coco Chanel from these sources as well as from Platt's book. It's interesting how life always seems to have its parallels. Despite my disappointment, I still enjoyed learning about Chanel. Her story is very interesting and you might want to see the recent movie about her, Coco before Chanel.

Since life's parallels show up in the most unexpected places, this morning we had French breakfast -- cheese and baguettes and chocolate mousse accompanied by a French chanteuse on a DVD player. We had several student teachers leaving today to return to universities and homes, and one of them declared it a French spirit day. We were to dress up in French attire. Following the lead of Evelyn in A Year in Provence, I wore a smashing silk scarf around my neck, attached with a brooch. I felt it was appropriate spirit day attire for a "woman of a certain age."

I also learned from Savoir Flair! that muggers grab Chanel glasses and sunglasses right off tourists' faces. Apparently there's a black market for recycled Chanel frames. See how powerful books are? Who would have known that? Do you think they will grab my Ed Hardy glasses or will they be too tacky even for muggers? I guess time will tell. Au revoir for now.