Olive You, Cours Saleya!
No, come on, that was a great title, right? You got it, right? Olive…ilove…
I HAVE NEVER BEEN GOOD AT TITLES. My title search process for books is usually this humiliating endless brainstorming period in which I make a list of 5 million titles and every single one provokes this incredulous recoil on the part of my title-tryee-outers. Or, when they’re French, sometimes that Infamous Raised Eyebrow.
Then, if they are my French in-laws, they suggest I go do something useful with my time while I’m throwing out these lame titles, like maybe Iron My Clothes (also my husband’s and my baby’s). This whole clothes-ironing thing is an ISSUE with my in-laws. My mother-in-law irons SOCKS and the STRAPS of bikini underwear and WASHCLOTHS.
My uncle-in-law, after hosting our wedding with its 150 guests sleeping in the attic, said, “Well, washing the sheets after wasn’t the problem. But it took me six months to get them all ironed.“
And I felt deeply guilty, but NOT guilty enough to iron sheets. My sheets get stuffed into a ball in my linen closet, and it works very well for me, thank you. No raised eyebrows allowed.
Shirts pretty much get once chance to be pretty and unwrinkled in my house–it’s that first wear after they come from the store. After that, their best hope is that I remember to get them out of the dryer right away. It’s a slim hope, which they gradually lose the longer they spend in my house. Then despair sets in.
Meanwhile, back to the excuse for my post’s lame title:
Look at it. THOSE ARE ALL OLIVES. Different types of olives in bins from beginning to end. I think there are more that the photo doesn’t catch, too. (Also, I BET you are thinking: that baby girl’s mom may not be much for ironing, but she sure does pick cute hats. Aren’t you?)
Meanwhile, it’s about time I told you: Blogging for you all is hard on me.
I have to keep going through these photos and torturing myself. Do you know how many kinds of olives I have never tried before?
Yes, neither did I before I started visiting places like the Cours Saleya market. And then studying the photos afterward to select FOR YOU.
I’m not even a particularly huge fan of olives, but I am culinarily greedy and even what some people might call voracious. So now I feel deprived again.
Our test question now for Corine (a Frenchwoman married to an American, living in LA): What is your stance on ironing?