Daydreaming of a different life

Last weekend at our cottage, I immersed myself in the Julia Child biography, My Life in France. It is an amazing book, written collaboratively with her grand-nephew, but published posthumously.

Julia's life was something truly magical. Her husband worked for the government, so they traveled quite a bit, and were frequently relocated to different countries. They met while working in Ceylon, and then after they married, they relocated to Paris for three years. While there, Julia fell in love with French cooking, got a degree from the Cordon Bleu, and began work on her classic series, Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

Can you imagine? She took French cooking classes with world-class chefs. She wandered the markets, getting to know each purveyor. She and her cookbook partners gave classes in their kitchen, teaching expat socialites how to make classic French cuisine. It all sounds like a fairytale to me.

This past week has been a doozy. Between work and home demands, I had no time to do any of my own writing or cooking. I have a cold, so my nose is a stuffed up mess and I'm pretty damn cranky. All week, as I struggled to make it to the weekend, I kept thinking of Julia. I know her life had its own stresses in it, but from my side of the grass, it sure looks good.