2007-09-08 - 11:08 a.m.
Oh we did, we did go grocery shopping in France yesterday!!!! I was so excited. I think that going grocery shopping in France has been my favorite part about living in Spain. I think? No, I know. Where the hell am I am going to go special grocery shopping when I go back to Michigan? Indiana? Not so cool.
Anyway, we spent four hundred euros. Which is a whole lotta money. But, not so much when you figure that I am totally stocked up with butter, wine and coffee now and will not have to buy any of those things again while living in Spain. (well, maybe some wine, we didn't buy SO much wine that can be imbibed now, we bought wine to take back to Michigan with us, for special occasions.)
I have big plans for some of my French purchases today. Making cookies is one of those plans. Going to Sitges for vegetables with my new French pull cart thing is another.* But first...I have some brioche to eat. You see, when the French people were visiting us last month I fell in love with their habit of breakfast. They would wake up, wash their faces and teeth, get dressed and then they would go downstairs for breakfast. They were adorable. Sylvie would pull out the brioche, jam, butter, knives and plates and would set up the table while Seb would prepare their big, milky cups of chocolate and coffee. I assume that when they are in their home they use the bowls like all French people do for their big, milky coffees...but while they were here they just used our biggest mugs (and probably though it was charming and different to do so). Then they would sit together, talking quietly between bites of brioche, sips of coffee, spreads of jam. When they finished they would wash their dishes and hands and then look suddenly expectant. It was as though this routine was so ingrained in them that once they were through with the motions of it they had to go to the next movement and finding themselves in an old, crumbling Spanish villa with six cats and two sloppy Americans caught them totally by surprise. They were very cute. And their breakfast routine was entrancing.
So yesterday I bought good French milk, good French butter, good French brioche (I actually think brioche is kind of boring and don't know whether it makes a difference to buy good or just normal brioche, we will see.) and coffee. I plan to sit under the palm tree with a big, milky cup of coffee and a tray of brioche, butter and jam. That will be happy.
In other news.
My cat, Bubba, is scheduled for an intestinal biopsy on the eighteenth. Because his bowel problems persist. And my vets want to know what is going on with him before he leaves. Which I admire. I really, truly like the Clinica Veterinaria Sitges. They are some kind people. The other day we were given a 10% discount on all the vaccinations for the cats. Which was a substantial savings. They did this for us last year too. Last year I thought it was a nice gesture but I was dubious about it. I know how business works and you do little things like that for your customer and they keep coming back to you. But this year when they did it it was clear they were just giving us that discount to be nice. Because they know we are leaving next month. I appreciate that and am going to be very sad to leave them.
That is all.
Oh...except for the *
*The cart. When Eric lived in France and I spent a lot of time with him there I used to long to have a cart to pull behind me like all the French people had. They would do their shopping, wandering in and out of various shops, loaded down with meat and fish, cheese and vegetables and then they would stop at the bakery and into their cart would go several baguettes and they would poke out of the top of the cart. (a lot of times you saw flowers poking out too) Ever since I have lived in Spain I have been telling myself that I need to get a cart because hauling all those groceries back on the bus or up the hill from Ribes is just a pain in the ass, plus, my hands ache after lugging heavy grocery bags. But I never got around to getting a cart. It occurred to me that I better get one before we leave and that it was best to buy one in France. So I can return to the US with my French cart. Because I love all things French (except for the cheese) and because it was purchased in France I will always adore my bright purple pull cart. The end.
I am off for brioche now.|
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