The right place at the right time

It has only been a little over a month since I returned from France. It was an amazing trip with my co-chaperone and 13 of my eighth grade students. While planning the trip, I discovered that there would be a guided tour in English at the Mémorial de la Shoah. My students and I discuss the Holocaust and La Rafle, the round-up of the Jews in Paris in July of 1942. I show them the movie Sarah’s Key, based on the novel by Tatiana de Rosnay. I have had the pleasure of meeting Mme de Rosnay twice, once by design, once purely by chance. Being in the right place at the right time. In front of the Paris Hôtel de Ville during a rally for women in 2013. She was the guest of honor. All of the women were on motorcycles, including Mme de Rosnay.

I’ve been to the Mémorial de la Shoah several times in the past few years. While in Paris in January of this year, I decided to visit Drancy, the site of one of the deportation camps used during the Holocaust. I have read stories of women who survived the camps or who were hidden children during the Holocaust. I have also read fictionalized accounts of the occupation of France by the Nazis such as All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr and The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. My high school French teacher, Mme Christiane Roze Buchanan, lived in occupied France.

On this particular March Sunday afternoon, I arrived with my crew in time for one young lady, who became a Bat Mitzvah in November of 2018, to make a presentation about the Mémorial. (I ask all of the students to sign up for one of the places we will visit and prepare a short presentation about it.) We also had time to take a look at the Wall of Names before our guided tour began (see first two photos). We found a place to sit inside the Mémorial to wait on our guide. There weren’t many places to sit and when another woman came over to join our group, I gave one young man a look that meant “Get up and give your seat to this woman. Now.” He read me well and got up. This woman struck up a conversation with the students she was sitting next to– Where are you from? Why are you in Paris? What have you seen so far? Then the tour began and we took a two-hour journey through the history of anti-semitism and anti-Judaism in France. The tour ended in a relatively small room, with just a few glass benches, and black and white photos of children on the walls. Photos of children taken from their families during the Holocaust. By this time, I was in tears. Just thinking of having my children or granddaughter taken from me is almost more than I can stand. As I sat there, I heard a voice behind me say in French to the guide “J’étais un enfant caché.” I was a hidden child. The voice came from the woman who had joined our tour. The guide asked her in French if she would be willing to share her story. The right place at the right time.

(I am taking this from Monique’s bio- she tells the story much better than I could.)

A “hidden child” of the Holocaust taken in France in 1942, Monique Saigal dedicates the new edition of her book to her grandmother Rivka Leiba pictured on the cover, gassed at Auschwitz September 30th, 1942. A month earlier, on August 24th fearing for Monique’s life she threw her on a train carrying non-Jewish children whose fathers like Monique’s had died. An organization called “the house of the prisoners” helped war widows by sending their children to spend a one month vacation with a host family in Southwest France. Scared and alone, Monique arrived at the train station but there was no one to pick her up. However, a young lady Jacqueline Baleste, waiting for a little boy who did not come off the train, saw the little girl with no name-tag crying in the corner. She embraced her and brought her home where Monique lived with the Baleste family for 8 years in a small village. She was baptized and raised Catholic for fear of surrounding Nazis in this occupied zone.

After she spoke with the group, Monique gave me a postcard-sized card with her bio. And her email address. I attempted to wipe away my tears and hugged her. Later that evening, I emailed Monique to thank her for sharing her story with us. She quickly emailed back and told me that she would be happy to meet us and share more of her story if we had the time. We settled on a time, she came to our hotel with her power point presentation on her computer, and told us more of her story. Several of my students bought a copy of her book. When she ran out of copies, she told me that she would send some more to me as soon as she got back to California. (She was in Paris to visit her uncle, her mother’s brother.)

Monique’s book, French Heroines, 1940-1945, available in both French and English, contains the stories of women “who are little known yet who stand out because of their extraordinary courage during the German occupation in World War II, when they risked their lives, engaging in clandestine activities to overcome the Nazis.” There are eighteen stories because in Hebrew “chai” or the number 18 stands for life. I read these eighteen stories and have even reread most of them because their acts of bravery seem unbelievable to someone who spends most of her time worrying about “first world problems.”  I want to believe that I would have been one of those brave women. But I hope that I never have to find out the limits of my bravery and courage.

Merci, Monique. I will never forget our chance encounter. Thank you for being so very brave. God bless your grandmother and the Baleste family.

The right place at the right time. How very fortunate I am.

As I read about the people who were starving during the war, I realized that although my family didn’t have very much money when I was growing up, Mama Mildred always managed to put food on the table for her four children. I made a very simple soup today and I will pass that recipe on. My recipes such as this one are always a guess-timate, as we say in English. Soups do not have to be exact. That’s probably one of the reasons I enjoy creating them. Someone left a bag of Wegman’s Salt Potatoes in the faculty lounge this week and I claimed them. A 5-pound bag of potatoes with a small bag of salt inside. Go figure!

Potato Sausage Soup

Andouille sausage, cut in bite-sized pieces

1 medium or large onion, diced

Minced garlic, optional

Olive oil

Thin-skinned potatoes, scrubbed (and peeled, if you wish), cut into bite-sized pieces

Chicken stock or broth (you could also use vegetable stock or even water)

Herbs (I used Weber’s Roasted Garlic and Herb Seasoning)

Salt and pepper, if desired

In a heavy bottomed pot, heat olive oil over medium high heat. Brown the sausage on both sides. Remove to a bowl and set aside.

Using the same pot and oil, sauté the onions until soft. If using minced garlic, add it at the end, for about 2 minutes, stirring with a wooden spoon.

Put the potatoes in the pot with the onions. Cover the potatoes with chicken stock, broth or water. Add back the sausage. Sprinkle in herbs. Stir. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender. Taste and adjust seasonings, if needed.

Bon appétit to heroes from all walks of life. Big and small. Rich and poor. Old and young. Jewish, Catholic, Protestant or non-believers. And all in-between. To all who perform intentional and/or random acts of kindness in this world. And remember, everyone has a story. We just need to open our hearts and ears and listen. Really listen.

Letting go

I've probably already used this title.  It's my theme for early June.  Another school year has come and gone.  My 36th.  And as excited as I am for summer, it is difficult to let go.  Oh, the 8th graders are ready for high school, whether they know it or not.  Some are nervous, some are excited, some are just plain oblivious because a two month break from homework, tests, quizzes, and projects is all they can see at the moment.  Exams have been studied for and taken.  They've been graded, recorded and the grades have gone home to mom and dad.  I've had Alice Cooper's School's Out for the Summer running through my head for a few days.  Do any of my students even know who Alice Cooper is??

I am especially close to this particular class.  I am not sure why.  Perhaps it is because they needed me in some way that others haven't?  Perhaps it's because they let me get close to them and I let them get to know a different side of me?  I taught them for two years and advised twelve of them in 7th grade.  I've watched them fall down, scrape their knees and elbows, literally and figuratively. I've cried with them over the loss of a grandparent or a pet or as they have tried to make sense of a divorce.  I've let them know if they have disappointed me, with thoughtless behavior or by not working up to their potential in class.  I've celebrated their successes, winning essay contests, having the nerve to get up in front of their peers and visitors to recite their spoken word poems, sing with the chorus, dance with their movement class or act out a Goth version of Shakespeare.   Some of them shared what they wrote in response to watching the movie Sarah's Key based on the novel by Tatiana de Rosnay.  They shared these thoughts in the school literary magazine but also with the author herself when we met her in Paris.  This is Mlle Mer.  Her grandmother left Europe as a young girl in wake of the Holocaust.

I will miss her accidentally calling me Mom.

We've gotten dirty in the school gardens, planting, weeding, and picking strawberries.  We've traveled to Foster's and Guglhupf cafés just down the street for baguettes, fromage, and macarons, to Washington, DC for the 7th grade class trip, and 23 of us jetted across the Atlantic Ocean so that I could show them "my" France.

The one pictured at the top of the post, Miss Issy, is heading to France this summer to spend two weeks with her pen friend.  Paris with her Mum first, then Senlis, Toulouse (or Toulon?), the Riviera and Corsica.  She is leaving DA for a nearby public school and I will miss her and her really cool English accent.  I can't wait to read the book she gave me.

Not sure what the bad habits are, but I look forward to finding out.  Probably won't share that information with next year's 8th graders, though.

What to say about these two?

Monsieur drove me nuts, but I will genuinely miss him.  He will grow up to do amazing things when he learns to focus and control his brain.  His pal, on the other arm, bought him a planner to help him get through the end of the year with all of his homework assignments completed (and probably so that she wouldn't have to listen to me nag him every single day, truth be told).  He should read or watch Le Petit Nicolas.  Mademoiselle has become my Pretend Daughter.  Unbeknownst to me, she and another girlie had a project this year whose code name was Apples.  They kept up with the dates of days when I wore a black dress to school.  The sheet of paper I have as evidence only dates from January 26 and there are 28 dates marked, including the one above, June 9.  What can I say?  I love black dresses.  I suppose I am more clueless than I care to believe.  And 8th graders can be pretty clever.

It was a very good year.  Quite a few tears and many waterproof mascara days. So many laughs and really good hugs.

I love you all.  I will miss you, but it is time to move on.  I hope that I have taught you a little about life, perseverance, hard work, and the importance of being your best self as well as how to conjugate and use the imparfait.  I hope that you have many days when you think "This is the best day of my life!"  And that you remember those days when a lousy one comes along.

This sums it up pretty well, n'est-ce pas?

Bonnes vacances!  Ne m'oubliez pas, s'il vous plaît.

Mme E

Today's recipe is one 8th graders would appreciate (well, except for the unfortunate ones who can't eat chocolate- I had four of those, les pauvres).  It's from Deb at Smitten Kitchen.  I am addicted to her blog.  And the mention of sea salt reminds me of our visit to Aigues Mortes and seeing the enormous piles of salt at La Baleine.

Salted Chocolate Chip Cookies
makes approximately 18-24

1/2 cup (4 ounces or 113 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 Tbsp. (25 g) granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. (25 g) Turbinado sugar (aka Sugar in the Raw- you can use more brown or white if you have this, but the subtle crunch it adds is delightful)
3/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp. (165 g) packed light or dark brown sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3/4 tsp. baking soda
Heaped 1/4 tsp. (technically 1/4 + 1/8 tsp.) fine sea salt or table salt
1-3/4 cups (220 g) all-purpose flour
1/2 pound (225 g) semi- or bittersweet chocolate, cut into roughly 1/2-inch chunks with a serrated knife
Flaky sea salt, to finish

Heat oven to 360˚F (180˚C) and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicon baking mat.

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugars together with an electric mixer until very light and fluffy, about 5 minutes.  Add egg and vanilla, beating until incorporated and scraping down the bowl as needed.  Beat in fine sea or table salt and baking soda until combined, then the flour on low speed until just mixed.  The dough will look crumbly at this point.  With a spatula, fold/stir in the chocolate chunks.

Scoop cookies into 1-1/2 Tbsp. (#40 scoop) mounds, spacing them apart on prepared baking sheet. Sprinkle each with a few flakes of sea salt.  Bake 11 to 12 minutes, until golden on the outside but still very gooey and soft on the inside.  Out of the oven, let rest on baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a cooling rack.

From Deb:
Extra dough- I know, what's that?!- can be formed into scoops and frozen on a sheet until solid, then transferred to a freezer bag.  I've baked these right from the freezer; they need, at most, 1 minute more baking time.  You could also from them into a 2-inch log, freeze it, and slice and bake the cookies off as desired.  The only difference I've note between cookies baked right away and those baked a day or more later is that the older cookie dough is less puffy when baked.

Bon appétit and happy summer to all, students and teachers alike!

Re-entry 2016

It just isn't easy.  It never is.  But this year... maybe the toughest re-entry yet.  Why?  Many emotions are tied up in knots.

• Relief. I have returned the kiddies home safe and sound.  No lost passports.  No picked pockets.  No broken bones.  Or broken hearts.  Actually, I am not at all sure about that last one...
• Sadness.  I miss them.  I miss eating breakfast and dinner with them.  One of the girls started calling our meals "family dinners."  I miss their random hugs.  I have never been photographed so many times with individual kiddies.  I miss their excitement and eagerness to try new foods and see new sights.  And their laughter.  I miss France.  In spite of air traffic controller strikes.
• Regret.  Did I take enough photos?  Did I show them everything I meant to?  Why did I lose my patience with one or two more than once? Did I send home emails to parents conveying how much I truly enjoyed spending 12 days with this group?
• Joy.  I was back in France-- with my students who have endured two years of my stories about this amazing country.  I spent time with almost all of my Favorite Frenchies.  I was surrounded by this beautiful language that I have spent most of my life trying to master.  I wandered the streets of Arles once again.
• Hunger #1.  The chance to eat my favorite foods once again... Foie gras.  Duck.  Bread. Cheese.  Pain aux raisins.  Gratin. Aïoli. Sandwich au jambon, fromage, et beurre. Pierre Hermé macarons.  
• Hunger #2. To see more and more and more.  To really see details.  To really look at people. To be mindful and live in the moment.
• Satisfaction. I think that the kiddies enjoyed the activities I planned.  It all fell into place almost  as if by magic.  Wreath-laying ceremony at the Normandy American Cemetery.  Macaron-making at Atelier des Gâteaux.  Paris Levallois vs Monaco basketball game.  Meeting Tatiana de Rosnay in the park outside of Bon Marché and sharing poems written about Sarah's Key with her.  The most perfect weather we could hope for during the month of March.  
• Exhaustion.  I fell into bed every night bone-tired.  We probably averaged 9 miles of walking a day.  I laugh just thinking about trying to keep my eyes open so that I could compose an email every night to parents and sound at least partially sane.
• Gratitude.  This is my on-going project, with the help of Pretend Daughter #2.  I do not have the words to thank this group of kiddies, my co-chaperone Mr. P, our families, and my school administration.  For trusting me in the face of daily worries about terrorism and all of the what-ifs that keep some people buttoned up and locked down in their homes.  I will never be one of those people.  

There is so much to say.  So much that I will leave unsaid for now, but save for later posts.  I will look at my 1500+ photos and relive this trip for a long time to come.

Merci à toutes et à tous!

One of the girlies pointed me in the direction of an Eiffel Tower cake mold while we were roaming around in La Grande Épicerie at Bon Marché department store.  I decided to make a chocolate cake in it this morning.

I cannot believe that I forgot to add sprinkles until the very last part of the first cake.  And I completely forgot to add them to the mold on the second one.  Oh well.  Next time, n'est-ce pas?

Gâteau au Chocolat à la Tour Eiffel

recipe adapted from Taste of Home

2/3 c. butter, softened

1-2/3 c. sugar

3 large eggs, room temperature

2 c. all-purpose flour

2/3 c. baking cocoa

1-1/4 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1-1/3 c. buttermilk

Confectioners' sugar or your favorite frosting

In bowl, cream butter and sugar until fluffy.  Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.

In a separate bowl, whisk flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt until combined.

Add flour mixture to butter mixture, alternating with milk, beating until smooth after each addition.

Pour batter into greased and floured pan. (The recipe calls for a 13x9-in pan.  I used my new mold, buttering and dusting with cocoa powder.  The recipe made two of these cakes. Cupcakes are always a good idea.)

Bake at 350˚F 35-40 minutes or until cake tests done (less for cupcakes).  Cool on wire rack.  When cake is cool, dust with confectioners' sugar or frost, if desired.

12-15 servings

Bon appétit to all my 8th graders!  Je vous aime!  May you always be so enthusiastic and may you travel to wonderful places during your lifetime.

Plans for Paris

Next week I am going to Paris as a guest of ACIS, the student travel company I use for my 8th grade trip. While there, we teachers will be wined and dined and generally treated as VSA, very special adults.  Believe it or not, that doesn't necessarily happen in our profession.  My school is allowing me to stay for two extra days, so I will be there for five nights.

With the ACIS group, I will have this for breakfast at our hotel-

We will take a walking tour of Montmartre (as beautiful as it is, not in the snow this year, I hope)--

We will visit the newly refurbished Rodin Museum so that I can see M. Le Penseur up close and personal.  And not in a plastic box at the airport.  I love M. Rodin's sculptures.

I plan to visit Shakespeare and Company, the famous English bookstore near Notre Dame.

Author Luc Sante will be there with his new book.  Oui, a real author's reading in Paris!   A first for moi.

I hope to see this character, my Favorite Parisien.

And perhaps eat foie gras with him again.

But first, a kir...

Then perhaps a slice of Galette des Rois for dessert.

I am coming to Paris, Pierre.  I would be happy to let you show me how you make macarons.  Just say the word.
I won't take a trip to the top of La Tour Eiffel this time, but I am sure that I will take a photo or two and watch her sparkle.

I love la soupe à l'oignon.  I imagine that I will duck into a café for a bowl somewhere along the way.

A visit to Monoprix?  Mais bien sûr!  Les soldes de janvier are on.  Government mandated sales started January 6 and will continue throughout the month.

I am not much of a shopper unless I am looking at cooking stuff and books.  See the alimentation sign and red arrow?  Food this way.
I want to look for Mme de Rosnay's latest book, Manderley Forever, a biography of Daphne de Maurier.

I will take a few scarves with me, but if a new one, on sale of course, catches my eye...

I always look for a market or two to roam around in or through.  Most are outside, a few are covered.

I plan to check into the possibility of a macaron-making class at La Cuisine Paris for some of the 8th graders in March.  A couple of the girlies asked about it.  I could always use more practice, too.

Lighting a candle in memory of my high school French teacher, Mme Buchanan, is always important to me.

What I look forward to the most is seeing firsthand how Paris is holding up after the horrible events of November 13.   It's like checking up on an old friend after she has had a terrible accident or life-threatening illness.  I want her to know that I am not afraid.  I will be there to support her.

La vie est belle.  Paris, je t'aime.

Bon appétit et bon voyage!

Beginnings and endings

Joie de Vivre

(photo credit: Anna C.)

My life has never been measured in calendar years.  Since the age of 5, I've been in school.  The year begins in August and ends in June.  Another year just ended.  My 35th year of teaching.  Wow. Summer now begins.  My 8th graders' middle school career just ended.  High school will begin for them in a couple of months.  The photo above was taken at Saintes Maries de la Mer in March towards the end of our trip to France.  It just makes me happy to look at it.  And it also brings tears to my eyes because it is the end of my daily contact with these girlies and with the other 27 eighth grade kids I taught every day this year and last (and the year before for some of them).  I always get attached to my students and the 8th graders hold a very special place in my heart.  They make me laugh and cry.  Somedays, they make me want to bang my head against the white board.  They keep me on my toes.  They make me want to be not only a better teacher but a better human.

I have spent the last couple of days cleaning up my classroom and I came across something one of the girlies wrote for my class this year.  We watched Sarah's Key, a movie based on the novel by the same name by Tatiana de Rosnay.  I stumbled across the novel in Barnes and Noble several years ago.  I had no idea that the events detailed in the book really happened.  I then saw the movie and now I show it to my 8th graders every year as we prepare for our trip to France and they study WWII in the history class.   I rarely get the chance to read what my students write in English.  So, this year, after watching the movie, I asked them to create something-- a poem, a letter, a drawing, anything of any length.  This was written by a very special young lady.  If you have read the book or seen the movie, then you know that Michel is Sarah's younger brother.  When the police come to round up her family during the Vel d'Hiv, she locks him in a closet, thinking that she would keep him safe and return quickly to get him.  That doesn't happen because her family is sent to a camp after three days. Sarah is separated from her parents and later escapes the camp and is able to return to Paris, but it is too late.  Her brother has died in the closet.  Sarah is adopted by a couple, later moves to the U.S., marries and has a child, but she never recovers from the guilt of locking her brother in the closet and commits suicide.


Small white clouds cloud the sky and my heart longs for you, michel.
My life is a bottomless well,
Overflowing with so many things but empty all the same.
I was a fool to believe them and their little lies.
Three days, they told us.
I will never forgive myself for believing them.
The smell of hay in the country reminds me of the camps
There without you, while we sat and ached
and you drifted away, silent and alone.
We should have escaped, tried harder to make ourselves bleed
or vomit or something enough for the french to dismiss us
but we did not try hard enough, michel.
please forgive me.  i will be seeing you soon enough.
the world has robbed me of everything i loved,
turned its back on me and thrown my body to the ground
countless times.
i know why they think i deserve it.
but none of that pain affects me.
the only pain i have has stayed with me since the day i left you
not temporary like the hoses, or electric fences,
but permanently in my soul.
no amount of love or hate will turn me away from my fate.
i have a young one, older than you were,
but he knows nothing of my childhood and neither does my husband.
everything around me now, I see at a distance.
all the people and places I have seen line the peripheries of my eyes
and fade as i get older
i am still young, michel
but i feel as if i have lived thousands of years
in different homes and eras
never fitting in, never content.
just aching, aching with guilt and grief and loss.
no one is here for me now, michel.
papa and mama have gone, too.
I think it is time i join you, i think it is high time.
i await our reunion and your blue eyes, seeing me unadulterated
when it is you i have been so troubled by.
i have had so many troubles, michel.
now i know how to best solve them. à bientôt, mon amour.

                                           --Eleanor, February 2, 2015


Adieu, 2014-2015.  It was a very good year.  Bon appétit et bonnes vacances!

Sunday Morning

Sunday is my favorite day of the week.  I was born on a Sunday.  According to the old English nursery rhyme--

Monday's child is fair of face. 
Tuesday's child is full of grace. 
Wednesday's child is full of woe. 
Thursday's child has far to go. 
Friday's child is loving and giving. 
Saturday's child works hard for a living, 
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day 
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

I especially love Sunday mornings.  The Ex-Ex finds it a bit insane that on the one day I could sleep in, I don't.  Of course, he reaps the benefits of my early rising because it is when I bake.  This morning, though, it is not my usual muffins or scones.  Today it's lasagna.  Son #2 and the Most Adorable Puppy in the World are home.  They are home for a quick visit so that Son #2 can get some warm clothes. Yesterday afternoon he asked me if I would mind making a pan of lasagna for him to take back to Tennessee with him.  Mind?  Are you kidding me?  A request like that makes me jump right up and run to the grocery store to get supplies.  So I did, but I waited until this morning to bake it.

I call my recipe Grant's Lasagna.  It is basically from the back of a Barilla lasagna noodle box, but I always make a few changes.  
I had some leftover meat (I combined pork sausage and ground beef).  I couldn't let that go to waste, so I made savory muffins.

Sausage Muffins
makes 12
Whisk together and set aside:
1/2 c. baking mix
2 eggs
1/2 c. milk

Mix cooked, crumbled sausage with shredded cheddar cheese (I used a mixture of parmesan, provolone and mozzarella.  Add sage or herbs, if you wish,  and salt and pepper.  You could throw in some hot sauce.  Spray 12 muffin cups with non-stick spray.  Put about a tablespoon of the batter in each cup.  Spoon the sausage mixture on top of the batter.  Then put another tablespoon of batter on top of the sausage mixture.  Bake for about 25 minutes at 375˚F.

On this Sunday morning, I am also reflecting on the things (and people) I am crushing on right now.

Let's see...

My camera.  I was going to save my tutoring money and invest in an SLR camera and learn to use it. But I came to my senses and realized that I am a point and shoot kind of photographer.  I take loads of pictures and just don't have the patience to mess with dials and all that.  (They are also heavy and more difficult to just throw in one's already heavy and overcrowded purse.)  Therefore, I am in love with my Powershot SX 700 HS.  It is supposed to have Wi-Fi capability, but I am not there yet.  Nor am I sure it works very well from what I've read.

Cook's Illustrated magazine.  A student gave me a subscription for Christmas a few years back and I am totally in love with it.  The recipes are tested and tested and tested, so the kinks are worked out for me.  Friday night, in anticipation of Son #2's arrival, I made sugar cookies from the All-Time Best Recipes edition.

Chewy Sugar Cookies
makes 24 cookies

2 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 c. sugar plus 1/3 c. for rolling
2 ounces cream cheese, cut into 8 pieces
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
1/3 c. vegetable oil (I used coconut oil- not liquid but the same measure- it worked well)
1 large egg
1 Tbsp. whole milk
2 Tbsp. vanilla extract

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350˚F.  Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.  Whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together in medium bowl.  Set aside.
Place 1 1/2 cups sugar and cream cheese in large bowl.  Place remaining sugar in shallow dish and set aside.  Pour melted butter over sugar and cream cheese and whisk to combine (some small lumps of cream cheese will remain but will smooth out later).  Whisk in oil until incorporated.  Add egg, milk, and vanilla; continue to whisk until smooth.  Add flour mixture and mix with rubber spatula until soft, homogeneous dough forms.
Working with 2 tablespoons of dough at time, roll into balls.  Working in batches, roll half of dough balls in sugar to coat and space evenly on prepared sheet; repeat with remaining dough balls.  Using bottom of greased measuring cup, flatten dough balls until 2-inches in diameter.  Sprinkle tops of cookies evenly with remaining sugar.
Bake cookies 1 sheet at a time, until edges are set and just beginning to brown, 11-13 minutes, rotating sheet halfway through baking.  Let cookies cool on sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to wire rack.  Let cookies cool completely before serving.  (The baker can try a warm one just to be sure that they taste okay!)

Next on the list.  Ron Rash.  I recently read Serena.  Mr. Rash teaches at Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, NC.  My niece-in-law is now a freshman there and Serena was her required reading book.  I couldn't put it down.  The movie version will be released soon.  The book is set in the Appalachian Mountains, but the movie was shot in Europe instead of NC.  I will go see it, though.  A short dialogue between Rachel and Widow Jenkins struck a chord with me--

"...But your father loved you.  I never doubted that and you shouldn't either.  I'll tell you something else I think.  It would have been wrong to take you away from these mountains, because if you're born here they're a part of you.  No other place will ever feel right."
Widow Jenkins put her glasses back on.  She turned to Rachel and smiled.
"Maybe that's just an old woman's silly notion-- about the mountains, I mean.  What do you think?"
"I don't know.  How can I if I've never been away from them?"
"Well, I never have either, but you're young and young folks these days get restless,"  Widow Jenkins said, slowly lifting herself from the steps, "so if you ever do find out you'll have to let me know."

I am now reading Rash's book The Cove, also set in the mountains.  I just discovered he will be in Chapel Hill at Flyleaf Books in early November.  Mark the calendar.

Tatiana de Rosnay.  I discovered Sarah's Key a few years ago while just hanging out in Barnes and Noble.  Another must read.  About the Vel d'Hiv round-up of Jewish families in Paris during WWII. I now show this movie to my 8th graders and we visit the site of the former vélodrome when we are in Paris during our spring break trip.  Two years ago, during the spring break trip, we were wandering the streets of Paris and came upon a motorcycle rally at the Hôtel de Ville.  My Favorite Parisien was paying more attention to the dignitaries and speeches than I was and all of a sudden, he grabbed my arm and said Mme de Rosnay is here!  We have to find her.  We chased her down so that I could meet her.  She was getting ready to get on her moto.  I quickly introduced myself and MFP snapped a photo and we let her go.

At the end of the school year, my 8th graders have to write a thank you letter in French as part of their final exam.  They can prepare it in advance and write to whomever they wish.  I hunt down the addresses and mail the letters.  Sometimes they/we get responses.  This past week, my phone pinged with a message.  I looked down and let out a yelp.  I had a message from Tatiana.  Oui, en français.  I sent three thank you letters and a note of explanation to her in care of her editor.  She had just received the letters.  She sent an email to one of the girls (who did as I suggested and included her email address) and just wanted me to know how much she enjoyed les lettres merveilleuses.  How cool is that?   I recently read A Secret Kept.  A movie version of that is in the works, too.  I plan to get her latest novels when I am in Paris in January.  She mostly writes in French but also in English. 

The Phantom of the Opera.  The play is at the DPAC and we are going to see it today.  The Ex-Ex's best friend from middle and high school (who is Brother-in-Law's brother... and they aren't even from the mountains!) and his wife invited us to go with them this evening.  

I am very excited.  I love this story.  The 1943 black and white film version explains why he wears the mask.  I showed part of it to the kiddies last week in class since some of them would be going to see the play.  I have been inside the Palais Garnier, the Paris Opera where the play is set, several times.  If only I could find the door that leads down to the lake...  I admit that I have tried.  No such luck.  This door leads to the Phantom's box.

And last but certainly not least, gay marriage is now legal in North Carolina as of Friday afternoon. Finally.  We will still have to listen to people rant and rave because they are against it, but whatever.
It's about time is all I have to say.

Time to get back to my baking.  Cook's Illustrated's carrot cake is next.  We have Monday off for fall break and the Ex-Ex and I are headed down to the In-Laws' house to visit with Aunt B who is visiting from Missouri.  I shouldn't go empty-handed!  I also need to check on the cats.  They refuse to make friends with Adorable Dog.  They are hiding.  Yesterday, I found them in the bathroom.

Cat 1 in the sink.

  
Cat 2 beside the toilet.

Bon appétit et bon dimanche à tous et à toutes!