Le Printemps....

Ah spring... I would say its my favorite season, but I do believe my favorite season is always the beginning of each one.....and my least favorite always being the end of winter. That one is a no brainer. But there is something so special about the spring and for the first time.... in quite a long time... I'm in California (northern, bah ouais) for the gloriousness of this event. So what have I been doing with myself you may ask? Well, first of all, my inner 3rd grader says "M.Y.O.B." (the b standing for beeswax of course), although my other, slightly duller, journaling self will reply...

Garden Fresh. My mom and I finally got motivated to plant our garden. Well... by insinuating "we plant" I mean she buys the stuff and I do the work. Totally cool with me. And I think with her too? Huh. Ill ask . But I planted tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, a shit ton of herbs, cucumbers, and arugula. I think my fav is the arugula because I have very little patience and it grows pretty fast. And tasty to boot. But the garden is so fun. Its like having your own little kid... except not, because its not a pain in my ASS.

Ze Yoga. I had such a great class today. Its just that thing for me that makes most of my sucky days better and allows the good ones to keep on keepin on. Find your yoga. Maybe its cooking, or reading, or hell even some illegal substance. But, when you find whatever it is... its so goood.

Art. Since Ive been back from artsy fartsy Paris, Ive been a little more inspired to pick up my own camera and to check out what other people are doing too. Result? My dad asking me why the keyboard is slightly wet from what appears to be drool after I have been checking out the approximate 5,456 blogs I belong to. Its so fun! Ive been finding new music, inspiration, recipes, and occasionally drift to check out what the Real Housewives are fighting about behind the scenes. Whattt? fuck you ok? Don't judge me. You're KFC Double Down is my enjoyment watching a good old rift between Bethenny and Jill.
Anywho here are some of the artsy-ish blogs that have been making me smile as of late:

Blue Hour
Mocking Bird
3191

SF. I explored a few areas of the Bay's city with Xtina last week and I'm more excited that ever to move in the fall. Noe Valley and Mission are toping my list; the Mission because they have a cute park and really awesome ice cream.... Noe Valley because they have french inspired cafes. But, really... Ill move anywhere as long as I can get to and from the Rainbow Co-op in less than an hour. My cocaine. Anywho, it was the best day.

Cooking. I made homemade graham crackers last night. My intention was to make them for the little kiddies next door, but then they actually turned out really good.

Et plus....Ive spent some time with my cuzzles, although not as much as I would like, discovered I have a strange affinity for parchment paper and steel cuts oats (but preferably not together), and spent more time at the bookstore than my dad does sleeping. Oh yes, and counting down the seconds until my wondrous wife arrives for her annual visit....

Now, what I should be doing:
making catch up phone calls
having fancy hat brunches

cleaning my room so I can make it to my bed without 3 hops, 2 steps, and a jump.

Enjoy your springy day and try some asparagus.

Home...Finalement!

So, en fait, I'm home. During the past week I've been experiencing a bit of culture shock, adjusting from 2 hours spent over an espresso back to watching my dad eat a bagel in under 2 minutes flat... in a car. Quel horror! After watching mildly depressing television shows (Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution reinforces everything I wish food, or food-like substances, were not), anxious and pushy drivers tailgating my every move to and from, and mostly to, the slow lane, and the constant blaring of bass-ed out music around every street corner... I remember that I am, after all home. After realizing how much I loathe some things about the states, I remember how much I love some things about being home. Some of mon petits triumphs:

I visited the Fruit Bowl, our answer to local bakery slash veggie/fruit center, and returned home with fresh backyard eggs and ciabatta. The eggs were even better than the ones I love so in Paris.... the bread on the other hand my friends... is a different story...


An amazing dinner with my couzzles at their house, cooking and laughing together, and making fun of... in the best of ways... the frenchies and our fellow statesmen. They always give me hope for Americans.

Asparagus Season!

I can order something at a restaurant, voice concerns, problems, or stupid ramblings without practicing to myself beforehand looking like some kind of psychopath on the street. French is beautiful, but god its nice to be back.

Sun. Espresso. Back Patio. Enough. Said.

Morning Routine. Plus Yoga. Heaven.

After lunching, my mom and I stopped in at the post office to grab some stamps. Momentarily preoccupied by a 6 year old-ish child crawling all over the extremely well kept floor, our attention was re-directed to the cock-a-doodle-doos coming from the backroom. The lady in front of us dismissed it as a ringtone. Well, I know better. Welcome back.

Sacramento Co-op. Id like the frenchies show me a place they have teff, quinoa, buckwheat, amaranth, and four types of wheat flour in one store... in bulk. Now thats what I call my oh la la.

Et plus.... mon famille et mes amies. The best dans le monde... with no bias whatsoever.


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Driving home the other night, upon returning to the driveway that has welcomed me back home for the past 20-ish years of my life, I thought about how many different stages of Stephanie Stein that driveway has seen. Its been there there, time and time again, not judging, not laughing, not crying, just being there to welcome me back. I thought about the different ways I had entered this driveway in the past and how telling it has been of my different selves over the years. As a passenger for most of my life, taking in my surroundings, actually listening and absorbing each word my parents told me.... As a teenager whipping ferociously into the driveway when my parents told me to slow down... As a college student, not even realizing where I was, and now just being grateful that its been there, and stayed put through all these years. I know... I just moved from Paris back to Stockton, but theres something about that driveway. that means to my home that no place on Earth could ever replicate.... even if their are gunshots as a backdrop.


My home, just another one of the many journeys I find on the road.





Prochainement:


-San Fran with the lovely Xtina
-Farmers Market
-Lunch with my old Frenchie teach. Can't wait for that great look of disappointment when my first "Bonjour", avec un accent tres americain, slips out.
-Biking
-Pool. Sun. Burning. Shade.
-People apparently want to join me in the above activities.... awaiting visits... wifey, KK the Great, et Michy... A tres bientot...