When it comes to brocantes, fleas, garage sales, vide-greniers, you name it, I’m weak. As much as I want to scale down, downsize, and get rid of, I seem to keep adding to instead of editing. I’ll need (insert item here) for a photo shoot, I tell myself, and off I go, out of the car, and into another dusty, junky heaven.
Last weekend, after organizing my kitchen cabinets and drawers in a Martha Stewart-style mania, complete with P-touch labels on everything that I could stick them on, I decided that it was time to search for what I needed most for my little Frenchy kitchen: the TABLE OF MY DREAMS, namely, something wooden, something old, and with a shelf along the bottom for additional storage. I don’t really know what you call tables like these – they aren’t really tables, per se, but something that’s used either in a factory or a shop, usually. Over the years, I’ve seen one or two at brocantes, but they’ve been too big for my small space. Nevertheless, I knew that this was what I needed, something high enough to be an additional workspace for chopping and rolling out pastry doughs, and deep enough to do double-duty as a table for eating and for students to sit around for my cooking classes, and pretty enough to be used for my videos – a tall order for just one piece.
Last week, after a more than two year, ahem, hiatus, I started going to yoga classes again. My abs are nonexistent, my balance is off, and my strength, eh, well, it seems to have vanished along with my memory of the asanas in the first series. But I’ve already found a bright spot in what will be an uphill battle to my return to yogaworld: there’s a super-cheapo market near my metro stop (Couronnes) on Tuesdays and Fridays.