Dear Santa, please send me bigger pants.

While many of you are no doubt making shopping lists and dutifully scratching off items purchased, baking Christmas goodies, and decorating with a vengeance, I am far, far away from all that holiday craziness.  This first impending Christmas as an ex-pat has found me in a strange time warp, of sorts.  I know that Christmas is coming in a few short weeks, but because my television is not telling me to go buy all the best gifts before they are gone, and because no horrible music is being piped into my head, and because I do not feel compelled to put even one piece of greenery in this apartment we are vacating in ten days, I am able to live happily in denial and carry on as if I don’t even celebrate this crazy holiday.  Landing in Houston on Dec. 17th will be a rude awakening, and I will probably panic and throw myself into mall mania, but as for today…..sweetness and light prevail.

Instead of heading to a mall, I walked up to the Grand Palais and finally saw the amazing exhibit of art collected by the Stein family in the early-mid 1900’s.  Even without a Santa photo center or strains of Little Drummer Boy, it was a fabulous outing.

The New York Times has written several articles on this exhibit, which was in San Francisco and will also be in New York.  Here is a link if you are interested in knowing more about it.

The Grand Palais is one of my favorite photo subjects, in part because it is a stone’s throw from my apartment.  One would not want to throw a stone at it, however, as the Grand Palais wears a gorgeous glass roof.  Isn’t it amazing?  You’ll see it a lot on this blog, in different kinds of light, because I never get tired of it.

This is what the entrance looked like this morning. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait in that line, because I have a pass to the GP. I felt like I was sooo much better than all those people.

But you might.    I loved the exhibit and was so happy I didn’t let it get away  in January without seeing it.  It’s pretty impressive that one family was able to amass such a collection of art, and even more impressive that they were able to have such an impact on the recognition and appreciation of modern art.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, French Christmas trees are definitely not American Christmas trees.  The real ones are quite diminutive and apparently don’t require water.  The fake ones are not ashamed of being fake- they embrace it and dare you not to notice.

This pink number could be in your living room for a mere $250.

And finally, our pastry up-date.  Friday brought us brioche and raisin buns.

I think I forgot to share this beautiful little Pear Charlotte- so, so good.

Last night’s offering was eaten too quickly for me to photograph it.  Puff pastry (and we’re not talking Pepperidge Farm, people) and almond paste/cream.   As we were all swooning over our first few bites, Mlle Cordon Bleu had the nerve to ask if we wanted to know how much butter was in it.  I sent her  to her room.

Happy shopping,baking,decorating, mes amies!