her biggest challenge

Marsha at Splenderosa has invited us this month to write about our biggest challenge ... well you know me ... not so happy talking about myself, so I have dreamt up a little tale.   As always I beg your indulgence!

Happiness and success had come easily to Simone.   She had sailed through school, popular and with good grades.  At College she emerged with flying colours; in her first job she quickly moved up the career ladder and was poised to take on important responsibilities.

Then of course Jack came along.  He had swept her off her feet with his dashing looks, his caring nature and his strong broad shoulders.  They had dreamt together and achieved those dreams.  The house, the friends, the children.  Jack's career was as  steady as it was brilliant, and he provided generously for his family.

So what was she doing now?

Why had she come to this point in her life when she needed a challenge?

She could feel the pressure that she was creating for herself.  At night she sometimes woke with a start and turned things over in her mind.  Surely it would be easier to just continue in her role as mother to their three  teenagers; wife to Jack and accomplished hostess to their friends.

Why was she rocking her boat?

She first talked about the project to her Mom.  Fully expecting her to dismiss the idea of creating an art gallery as foolish.  But no, her dear  mother had simply poured them both a coffee and sat down to listen to the whole project - from one end to the other in the tiniest detail, without interruption.

And when, once everything was explained, Simone had asked "Mom, am I crazy?", she just smiled and said "Honey, I think this is the wisest thing you could do.  In a few years time your children will have left home and you will feel at a loose end.  Remember the position you were in when you still worked?  All those decisions you took single-handedly!  I've always been amazed at the way you slipped into the role of stay-at-home mother and wife.  With drive and personality like yours, anything is possible.  You just get out there and do it.... and you know what?..."

Simone turned around, wondering what Nancy was going to add " ... you know honey, if you don't seize this opportunity, if you don't run with this idea, I believe you'll regret it for years to come".

The initial steps were relatively easy.  Finding  a space for the gallery; checking out the different sites in town; working out the website .. all that was fun.

The first surprise came at a fancy dinner.    Simone found herself seated next to a sharp looking man called Ted, they enjoyed a few minutes of casual chit-chat, then the conversation moved on to art, and it would have been the perfect moment for Simone to mention her ideas for her gallery.  But instead of simply stating the facts, she found herself fluffing her lines.  It was so difficult to find the self- confidence to talk about her project.

Ted was a gentleman, and was patient as she tried to explain what she hoped to achieve.  He watched her, silent for a while, then said quite seriously  "You know, you've got a great idea here, but if you want to pull this off, you have to believe you can do it".

"You have to believe you can do it", those words stuck in her mind and kept her awake that night.  Where had her self confidence gone to? 

What was it about the fact that she had been at home for the past fifteen years, that suddenly meant she didn't dare stick up for herself?  Why would a working situation be more difficult or more challenging than raising her children and managing her home?

The following week she had planned to reach out to an artist whose work she loved, Luke Siro.   She rewrote the email to him twenty times, and when his answer came quite simply "yes, sure, when can we meet?!" she nearly fell off her chair.





They arranged to have a coffee in town, and for him to bring pictures of his work. 

It took her an hour to dress:  not too smart, not too young; not too old; not too serious Aaargh!  In the end she pulled on a pair of white stretch jeans, a belt from her daughter's wardrobe, with a blue shirt and a pair of tan flats.  Sunglasses holding her hair back, nails freshly painted ... she looked cute, and yet mature .....

Luke turned up on time.  Slightly older than she had expected, he carried a portfolio, and was wearing a sexy pair of jeans splattered with paint.  The meeting didn't get off to the best start when she knocked over her cup of coffee and dropped her phone.  Luke looked at her smiling "What are you so worried about?    You have a great spot for a gallery, you know where you want to take it, and you have any number of artists like me who are glad of the attention!  Let's just relax..."

Their meeting was the first of a series to start off nervously and end so positively.  But as the weeks went by, Simone's confidence grew and she  was able to tick down her list :

 

bank - on board; 

lease - signed; 

artists - sourced;

publicity - designed;

renovations - completed;

and finally .....

opening cocktail party - invites sent!

The great day arrived.  Her name was up on the façade of the gallery in bold blue letters.  She had thirty canvases hung on the walls, and a dozen sculptures carefully positioned.  She had sent out invites to everyone she knew, she was wearing a new LBD and high heels, and she hardly saw the evening go by as she floated around the show, having her photo taken, answering questions, smiling ... happy.

And that evening as Jack drove her home, and her children rode behind, he reached over and squeezed her knee "We're all so proud of you Simone.  We could see it wasn't easy, although we didn't know why.  And I think that even though you have achieved so much in your life, and shined  in every way, .. well, I think this was your greatest challenge ... and that you rose to it!"

That night, she fell asleep happy.  Sure of herself, secure in the idea that she had indeed risen to her challenge, and that in the months ahead she'd come across many other hurdles and challenges ... but now she knew  she'd be able to handle them too.

If you would like to read about some of the amazing challenges faced by other bloggers then pop over to Splenderosa, .... and if you would like to tell me about your biggest challenge, then leave a comment below, you know how much I'd love to hear!

Mistress of the chateau - a fantasy Christmas

Dear Marsha at Splenderosa, has invited us to write about  christmas for this months By Invitation Only blog party.  We had an option for a fantasy Christmas, so with your permission,  I have imagined a short tale of a christmas party in a big chateau, that doesn't go quite as planned ....

Julie so wanted her first Christmas dinner as mistress of the château to be a great success.  She had ordered the finest food, the best champagne, supervised the laying of the table with the family silver, picked out the christmas decorations and pondered long and hard over the seating plan for her eclectic mix of guests.

....what could possible go wrong?  

Of course it hadn't helped that Bertha,  the cook, had reported sick that morning.  There was no dinner without a cook; Julie  called her friend Sophie in the morning, desperate for a solution "Don't worry my sweet", came the reassuring reply, " I'll send you over Grace, you'll see she is an angel.  Just keep her away from the bottle and she'll do you proud"  "Away from the what?!"  Julie had called down the phone, but it was too late, Sophie was gone, and anyway Grace was the only solution

 ...  it would be fine .....

Early afternoon she summoned the  housekeeper.  "Jeanette, I want you to check that the fires are laid in the green salon and the dining room, everyone will love to see roaring fires when they arrive"

"But madame",  " No, no Jeanette, no 'but madames' thank you very much!  I want my first big party here to be a great success, I know that I may not be doing things the way they have always been done, but you'll see it will be lovely"

Jeanette was ready to reply, but before she had time to express her misgiving the phone rang and Julie dismissed her with an authoritative smile.

Her husband Charles-Henri didn't return home until early evening "I'm so sorry darling to have left you with all the preparations for our little christmas dinner, but I'm sure that Jeanette and the cook have told you what we usually do"

Julie smiled "Don't worry darling, I wanted to surprise you with a very special Christmas dinner". Charles-Henri stopped in his tracks, he was about to say something, but thought the better of it.  He knew that his young wife had been doing her best to fit in.  And even if she had already managed to annoy his mother and the cook,   he was proud to have a young, dynamic and most pretty wife to drag his ancestors' home into modern times.

"All that you need to do, dear Charles-Henri, is change into your evening suit, and fasten this clasp  for me"  she smiled sweetly as she passed the necklace to her husband and turned her back, leaving him to gaze thoughtfully at the wisps of hair on her neck.

By the time Charles-Henri came downstairs, Julie was no where to be seen.  He noticed  the large number of champagne glasses prepared and ready for the evening,   nodded his greeting to the housekeeper and moved through to the kitchen.

Julie was talking in an animated manner to a woman dressed as a cook, who Charles-Henri  had never seen before.  "What do you mean, you don't know how to make a saffron sauce for the coquilles st jaques, how do you normally prepare scallops?!  For heaven's sake, Sophie told me you were an experienced cook",  Grace did not reply.  "Very well then, just a white wine sauce will do, but please don't make any other changes to my menu".

Julie turned tail and stormed out of the kitchen, Charles-Henri following to greet his first guests. But as he left the kitchen he had the most unnerving impression that the  new cook was swaying slightly from side to side.

Charles-Henri surprises had only just begun.  He found  an unusual bunch of guests.  Among them le Comte Joseph, a prominent member of parliament, and known to an elite circle as the greatest womaniser in Paris.  Behind him was a  small crowd, eager to come into the warmth and soft light and shed their elegant shoulders of perfumed cachemire and fur coats.

Gradually everyone moved into the green salon where a fire was blazing, music playing and champagne frothing into tall elegant glasses.  "Yes" smiled Julie to herself, "this is going to be wonderful."

And the first part of the evening was indeed wonderful.  Loud and happy conversation filled the château, as champagne chased down the finest amuse-bouches.   At nearly ten, Charles-Henri approached his dazzling young wife.  "Ma chérie, is it not time to start dinner?", 
"Oh my! yes, you are right",  she turned around looking for Jeanette and was surprised to find the housekeeper standing right behind her.  "Ah Jeanette, there you are. Please tell cook we are ready to dine".

Jeanette looked grave,  "May I have a word Madame", and without waiting for Madame to reply, Jeanette turned tail and left the room.  Julie looked at her husband perplexed.  He smiled reassuringly,   "Don't worry my dear, I shall handle this, you stay with our guests".

Charles-Henri followed Jeanette into the next room "Really Jeanette, I know that Madame is doing things differently, but I don't think she merits this rudeness".

"Monsieur, I am afraid there is a problem in the cuisine" 
 "A problem?!  well why are you telling me, let the cook sort it out"

"Monsieur, the cook cannot do anything about the problem:.... the cook is  the problem. I am sorry to tell you that she is drunk.  The meal is only half prepared, and the cook is asleep in your wine cellar!"

"Oh my word!  We have all these guests to feed!    Do your best Jeanette.  Find some other members of the staff to serve the meal with you as best you can.  I shall return to our guests."

He left Jeanette and strode back towards the dining room, where he found his darling wife trying to persuade the Count to take his allotted seat and to release her arm.  All around the table guests were searching for their places, "Ah mon dieu!'  he heard an elderly duchess gasp " she's placed me next to that dreadful man - so vulgar", Charles-Henri looked over her shoulder at the handwritten place names and understood that the elderly duchess was seated beside an actor of uncertain reputation "please excuse me, dear Duchess, I think there was a mistake, come over here, you will be more comfortable"

After fifteen minutes of shuffling guests from one seat to another until each and everyone seemed happy, Julie finally reached for the little brass bell beside her plate.  It tinkled gently, and she smiled confidently.

Into the dining room came Jeanette and two young maids, carrying trays heavy with white and gold plates.  They progressed slowly around the table, leaving a plate in front of each guest, while a waiter followed pouring wine.

When everyone was served, Charles-Henri raised his glass "Welcome my friends, bon appetit and a very happy Christmas to you all!"

There was a murmur of satisfaction as glasses were raised, then quiet conversation struck up as guests tasted the delicious looking scallops in a creamy sauce.  As the first morsels were raised to pouted lips, there was an audible gasp, then silence.

The meal was lukewarm and the scallops practically raw.  Julie leapt to the rescue,  "I'm so sorry, we had a problem with our cook today.  Please leave your plate to one side, we'll move straight on to the main course"

"What a shame my dear not to have lit the fire", pronounced the duchess loudly, " at least that could have made up for the cold meal!" 

"Of course, Madame la Duchesse, you are right, I wanted this fire lit."  Julie signalled to a maid to light the fire, already laid.  The maid hesitated, but Julie insisted, visibly stressed,  "straight away please",  a match was lifted to the paper and kindling wood;  the  flames took instantly, and there was an audible sigh of pleasure at the warm light from the fireplace ..... followed immediately by startled cries as smoke started billowing into the room.

Jeanette came running into the dining room "Madame, I tried to tell you, this fireplace cannot be used, there is a big birds nest .....", By now all the guests were coughing and spluttering, and moving out of the dining room while Jeanette stifled the flames and managed to extinguish the fire.

The doors were pulled shut on the dining room, Julie looked close to tears and Charles-Henri could not help but smile.  He picked up a bottle of champagne from a nearby table, and collected a handful of glasses then turned to smile to his guests.

"My dear friends, My darling Julie wanted to give you a memorable evening and that is what you will have; this evening you will experience a Christmas dinner like no other.   The dining room is out of bounds, the dinner is not yet completely ready and  the cook lies snoring in my wine cellar!"  There were murmurs of delight and disapproval to be heard around the room.  

"I invite you all to follow me into the kitchen.  We have all we could possibly want to eat and drink, there is a warm fire burning and a long table for us to sit at. We shall prepare and eat and enjoy the meal together,  we shall simply move our party from one end of this old château to the other!"

A split second of stunned silence was broken by the booming voice of Le Comte Joseph "Madame la Duchesse, let us lead the way"   The duchess peered down her nose at the Count, and everyone waited for her to answer.  Her face broke into a broad smile as she  took the arm of the Count, and lent over to whisper in his ear "I am very good at blending sauces; what dear Sir is your speciality?"

From that moment on the evening was a wild success: one fine course followed another.  With different wines for each dish, a magnificent venison stew, a positively royal cheese board and desserts to die for.  

The last guests left in the small hours of the morning, swearing this was the only way to celebrate Christmas.  Indeed I have heard that at the Château, the christmas 'diner dans la cuisine' became a house speciality that  friends would beg to be invited to.  I know I would!

the young french bride

A couple of weeks I ago I shared the imaginary correspondence between a very traditional mother and her soon-to-be-bride daughter.  Today the daughter is setting up home and maman would like to lend a helping hand...

Ma très chère Charlotte,  how I miss you ma chérie ... I think of you during the day, wondering how you are getting on in your new home; wondering if I should come across to see you and lend a hand  ...

Of course, if you needed any help with cleaning or tidying then I would bring Marie-Jeanne with me, I'm sure I don't know how I would have managed in this big chateau if I hadn't had her help over the years.

Why, only yesterday, once she had finished cleaning all the silver, and I suggested she did the copper saucepans too,  I said to her "I can't believe how much has to be done to keep a big place like this spick and span".  Not that I ever get much conversation out of dear Marie-Jeanne , she's forever rushing around, I'm sure she should take more time to relax ....

But back to you and your home my dear, I wondered if you'd like my second set of silver.  I'm sure that Philippe would like you to host some dinners and entertain your friends, and that silver does make quite a show you know.

Let me know what you think, and when I can visit

your loving Mama.

  ~~ oOo ~~

Chère Charlotte

Yes, of course I have heard of IKEA, but I didn't think I'd know anyone who actually shops there!  
 How sad darling, that you and Philippe are on such a tight budget.  Why ever won't you let me give you some porcelain and the silver I mentioned.  Or rather why ever won't Philippe come to work in Papa's firm, I'm sure that your papa would be perfectly happy to give him a good job with a fine salary, and then you could live .... well, you know ... as you should.

Darling, if Philippe worked for Papa, then you could stay at home and maybe ... start planning a nursery .....

your mama who wishes to help

 ~~ oOo ~~

All right Charlotte, please don't go on at me like one of those raving feminists  on some horrible television show.  Even if I don't understand why you want to work, I will accept it.  In my time no young wife was expected to busy herself outside of the home, and of course we needed time to visit our dress makers and to  take care of our appearance, and to have luncheons with other ladies too, and that  was always most time consuming.

Things have changed I know ....  it's just that I get a little bored at home; I had always imagined that once you were married, we'd spend so much time together while your husband was at work.

your morose mama

  ~~ oOo ~~

My darling,

what a lovely surprise it was to see you both this weekend, and how well you both look.  If only the days hadn't gone by so fast.  Even Papa said how much he enjoyed talking with Philippe after dinner, and he hopes you may come back more often.

I am most amused by this computer that you brought for me darling.  Do you think I'll be able to make it work?  And you told me I had to look at your page, or brog, or something similar.

I showed the computer to my friend, la Comtesse d'Isigny, and she agrees with me that you must be doing very well to have threew's before your name!

your mama.com

  ~~ oOo ~~

Ma petite Charlotte

I am getting very good with The Computer, and I have to say how I admire all you have achieved.  Looking at your pictures I can see that you and Philippe are building a wonderful life together, I shall no longer try to tell you how to run things darling.

Just one little thing ...

You showed the picture of your new chairs, and said they were distressed ....  they certainly didn't look at all happy .... darling, isn't there something we could do to make them feel better?!  

Otherwise I have a perfectly good pair of Louis XV, they have been in the family forever, and they don't feel - or look - the slightest bit distressed,  please let me know if you would like them ... 

your mama who wants to spoil you 

 ~~ oOo ~~

Thank you for indulging me with this little bit of fun, to be read out aloud, preferably in quite a posh accent!