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XOXO

-ANDREA VICTORY-LACASSE

Is it Spring Yet?

I am ready for spring. So ready. I was convinced it was here until I realised it's still a few weeks away. I don't want to wear my winter coat, I want to open the windows and doors and let the breeze flow through my apartment.
I'm so over winter. I can't wait to lose the layers, leave my scarf at home, touch things without my mittens.
And I don't know why I'm so disappointed that it's still snowing and blowing and raining and cold. I know the weather is out of my control, but I'm ready - why can't it just be the way I want it to be?!
I think this is a symbol of a bigger problem in my life right now. I'm ready for success, I'm ready for the life I'm working towards, but it isn't here yet. I have my summer dress on and my shades perched on my head ready for the bright future ahead, but it's down-pouring and I don't want to drag the umbrella out of the closet, or zip up my down jacket anymore. I'm absolutely impatient.
I know I'm missing out on the beauty of each cold and windy day by pining for tomorrow. Maybe, I don't need the sun as much as an attitude adjustment.
Hmm...
Nope, I want sunshine and rainbows and I want it now.

Adventure

I never considered myself adventurous. I've actually given myself a pretty hard time about my lack of it in the past.
I'll give it my best shot. I like the idea of doing outdoorsy and dangerous things. I'm just uncoordinated and sensitive. My translucent skin burns within minutes so I need constant sunscreen and shade, I'm severely allergic to bug bites. I tend to stay away from water sports, mostly because I am one of those people that gets water up my nose and ends up coughing and sputtering and nearly drowning. I prefer splashing to swimming and any attempts at diving end up in epic belly flops.
I like to run outside - on paths. I have no desire to jump out of an airplane, bungee jump or go planking.
If all the other kids jumped off a bridge, I'd carefully climb down the embankment to join them.
I used to think of these activities as the sole source of adventure. Only activities that had a close proximity to danger could consider you an adventurer. African safaris, crossing the desert on a camel, alligator wrestling.
But to each her own. I've realised I'm adventurous too. Launching a business is no small feat and has it's own ability to thrill (and induce the same stress hormones). I moved away from home in my early twenties to a place I'd never been, with no money to study beauty. I've danced on a TV series, quit jobs without a backup plan because of a difference in principle, hung on to my idealistic way of thinking and done a lot of things that would scare me more than cliff jumping.
Adventure isn't so much the activity, it's doing something that scares you half to death and thrills you even more. It's reward is not just survival but a brand new look at life altogether.

Snail Mail!

So, because I love getting things in the mail so much, I thought I would try something fun here. I've created a sign up sheet for any readers that would like to receive real mail from La Victoire.

Here is the link ----> Click on me!

I will not sell your address or send you anything that isn't cool. I just think it might be fun to get in touch the olde school way.

Yay - snail mail!

(also you may notice I've been tweaking the site a little, changes are a-happenin'!)

Image from angieadventure.tumblr.com check her out!

Hey Cool!

Now you can Follow my blog with Bloglovin!

To eat!

It wasn't until I met my husband that I really started to enjoy food. Before, supper for me would consist of a meger bowl of plain pasta or a few chips. I drank a lot of coffee and smoked a lot, so I wasn't really hungry much, just really anxious all the time.

Stephan's approach to food was "eat!" which he would say in an a faux Italian voice while holding his hand in mock exasperation. He cooked. Really well. Not one to use much of a cookbook, he would go to the stores - all of them - the little grocer on the corner, the other grocer further down, the butcher, the big chain, the LCBO. He would get fish and fresh cilantro, avocados, mangoes, tomatoes, wine; tossing everything into a pan here, a pot there, often cooking into the later part of the evening. We'd sit down at the table in his apartment on Roncesvalles, after sunset, with a bottle of wine, to a plate piled high with vibrant colour and loaded with nutrition. At first I was apprehensive about what this was, what that was, and I really disliked going to the grocery store. Over time though, the flavours grew on me and I really enjoyed the time we spent together chatting while he cooked and then sitting down together late into the night.

After 5 years, I'm even getting into the kitchen sometimes. I realize just how lucky I am to have been taught the joy of eating, and I've learned the luxury of food. My palette has changed; I can pick out specific flavours and ingredients, and oh - I quit smoking too.

Sitting down to enjoy a meal with friends and family is a beautiful thing and I have a suspicion, it might really be what life is all about.

Here's a delicious video I found that really shows the delights of appetites.

EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo. Images: all moi.

A Memory of Makeup

When I was a little girl, my best friend lived across the street. She had a trunk of dress-up clothes given to her by her grandmother and aunt in Europe. There was a white pair of beaten up pumps, a crochet vest, a few polyester dresses covered in paisleys. There were also a few items I quickly became obsessed with: An old-school Bourjois blusher in a cardboard round box, with the blush raised like a moon in a rusty pink colour, and a lipstick in a small faded gold metal case with just a nub of brick red left. We never used it, it was too old and my friend's mom had let us have it on the condition we didn't let it touch our faces. But we could pretend. I can still remember the way the blusher felt in my palm, the excitement of twisting the lipstick, how real and mine it felt. We'd pucker up in front of her mirrored closet doors, pretending to swipe on our 'rouge', while decked out in rows of plastic pearls, gaudy rings sliding off our tiny fingers. I just couldn't wait to own my own little pot of magic powder. Someday. The glamorous packaging would be mine, I would be grown up and lady-like. I built a little shrine to the objects it in my head, and my heart.

Soon though, around suppertime the pretend would end and I'd drudgingly cross the street home to potatoes and homework. Visions of glamour dancing in my head. I think I knew then that potatoes and homework were the temporary reality. My real world truely belonged to beauty.

Image: here.