What Is Bulky Ovaries?

Chonchon Thanks!

Chonchon The OH! At work, she had brought some delicious cakes stuffed with white chocolate chips dark chocolate ... She sent the recipe: He had only to repeat the whole family!

For this, we must move into the kitchen with kids motivated ( here, you will not find Juju lulu Berlu ) and you ask one of your brothers to join you.

You follow the recipe, and you get this:

Delicious! and What do they say? "Thank Chonchon !".

Uh, yes, well ... it's not she who has them!

But to do him homage behold her recipe:

Baking Chocolate 1 plate (black or white)

150 g butter

200g flour

125 g sugar

Shards of noistte (if dark chocolate) or nuggets of dark chocolate (If white chocolate)

3 eggs.

Preheat oven thermostat 7. Mix flour , sugar and eggs. Melt butter and chocolate. add the chocolate and melted butter preparation. Mix. Add the hazelnuts or nuggets. have in the molds. Cooking time: 20 minutes (based on heart) or 25-30 minutes (well done).

3.5 Mm Female Jack Color Diagram

Letter from Catherine Cusset

Dear students, dear school girls,

Thanks. A great big thank you. I can not tell you what an honor you do me in electing a bright future as the winner of the Goncourt XXI High Schoolers. I was not expecting it at all.

We just live together and separately for two months, a fantastic adventure. In mid-September, because your French teacher had volunteered, you ended up with five pounds of the new literary chosen by your elders, the jury of the Prix Goncourt. You should, of these fifteen books, read four, five, six or more, then to discuss with your classmates. Some of you have never read novels. Many were unaware of contemporary literature, the literary season, issues of race awards, which give a publisher a chance of survival and a writer the freedom to live by his pen. At first, maybe some of you were they deterred by the magnitude of the task, the size or on some books to read. But gradually you're caught in the game you realize that you had the power to act on reality, and you discovered the workings of democracy, the voting power of rhetoric and majority rule.

From my side, living in America for eighteen years, I knew almost all of the Goncourt High Schoolers. When I learned that there would be meetings with students in several regions of France, I agreed to lend me the game I must admit that at first I was taken aback. Placed on a dais alongside other writers, some of which were received by you as the stars, I sometimes felt to find myself in a kind of market where we had to sell his book as a commodity. When a hand rose in the room and that the issue was inevitably another writer, went back in me old complex buried since the high school years: those of the girl who yearns to be "nice" "cool" and popular, but remains in his corner and his comrades believe that haughty and contemptuous because she is shy and unsure of herself. I'm forty-five, you have between fourteen and eighteen. The body ages, but you will see we always fifteen years in her heart. Facing you, I was aware of that, the aging of the body, for your youth mirror us back our age.

And yet, during those two months, I too am I enjoyed taking the game to regain your youthful faces, to hear your questions became more precise and subtle as you read the books, and share with my classmates solidarity rarely given to the novelist, because writing is a solitary profession. Even without any chance of winning this award, I was happy to have lived with you on an adventure that seemed to symbolize the French cultural exception. I felt that something important had happened.

You can imagine my surprise and my delight when I received the call from Rennes on November 12. Though you have chosen a novel telling a half-century history of a Romanian who emigrated to the United States, and telling parallels the relationship of conflict, complicated, between the stepmother and her step-Romanian French girl, I still seems unbelievable and touched me deeply. Some of you have asked about the structure of this book. As I said at the meetings, I have long hesitated. I was afraid of spoiling the beautiful story of Elena and Jacob by mixing with another story, less epic and more psychological. Finally I realized that I had no choice because the book's subject was the relationship between past and present. between the dream of the future, and what had become of that dream. My novel might be too difficult to read and thus will not be successful, but too bad: there was this form that it was consistent with his project.

You, the younger, telling me today: it is precisely this form that we loved. You have not been deterred by the apparent difficulty. Reach your audience, I could not expect greater success. If I write, is above all because I love to read, because I can not imagine the day where I found the evening before bed, a novel that will be my companion falling asleep. I need a true companion: a novel that makes me feel good, which "exist"-the characters through an uncompromising writing where every word is necessary. I want to write books that my readers have wanted to get back in the evening. When you tell me that my characters have stayed with you once the book is closed, you gives me hope. This means that we are the same, there is no generation gap between us. I am afraid that as being a dinosaur in a world where no one reads and where image prevails over the word, so I can see you in small dinosaurs that will grow and populate the world of other baby dinosaurs?

I hope that this adventure has given you a taste of finding a mate in the evening of words, and your curiosity needle toward the immense spaces of the literature, where you guide your instincts. It is difficult to give advice, because two people do not like the books, what you understand by discussing in your classes for two months. But one can not help but suggest you go see the side of the Russians, Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, Edith Wharton and Salinger across the Atlantic, Balzac and Flaubert by us. Among other things, among many others. Just a beginning ...

With much love, Catherine

catherinecusset@yahoo.com


us grasp this letter was published on the blog here Fnac

Monica Roccaforte, Free

Thursday, November 13 (the last day, but not least)

As agreed yesterday, today, it will be the museum of the history of Paris: the Musee Carnavalet. Sunrise energetic, nutritious breakfast, bright eyes, student card and Paris map in hand, we expect this day to successfully conclude our stay in the French capital.

After a pleasant walk in the streets and crossings perky Island St. Louis, the Carnavalet museum greets us and opens its doors for free. Let us open a parenthesis in what says the Concise Oxford Dictionary: "the Carnavalet Museum, the historical city of Paris, the Marais. It occupies the former Hotel Carnavalet sixteenth and seventeenth century and other buildings that were assistants. The collections include reconstructions of Parisian interiors, paintings, graphics and objects. Important fund the Revolutionary period; memories of Madame de Sevigne, who lived there. "

After such a description, it goes without saying that we had underestimated the museum there planning to spend two hours ... In fact, it is not running (the mane in the wind for some) that we went through almost 1000 years of history. However, our incredible memory sponge, developed by more than a week to survey the museum, we were able to retain fragments.

We are now able to distinguish high-relief, bas-relief, round-the-bump for example. We as well as head the city of Paris as it was in the Middle Ages and we now understand why the French have had a thousand times right to revolt against the disproportionate wealth of monarchs and aristocrats in the eighteenth century. I would add that it is in this museum that I learned to properly read the signs with objects (and the paintings!) Exposed.

After exciting visit, the street direction Bourg-Tibourg to calm our hungry stomachs. In fact, many felt "faiblots" and vote for an onion soup. After a few grunts, a consensus is to eat at Ferioli, English restaurant (!) having a menu for all tastes and appetites.

few croutons and melted cheese later, we left for the afternoon. Most stores are heading for their last minute shopping, others wander in search of chocolate or pancakes, others did not do enough with the Carnavalet: they need another museum . I do, because I was very disappointed to leave Paris without seeing the museum displaying the works of Pablo Picasso. So I spend a part of the afternoon with my mother is also in Paris for a short period of time.

15:30: it's time to return to the hotel and then head back to the FNAC. We need to personally meet Catherine Cusset. Mr. and Mrs. Gariepy Hottote do not come, but we hope to see you at a subway which, according to Michel-Andre, is easily recognizable. Either we separate then. Arrived at the FNAC, we realize that Catherine Cusset we will not be formally presented, contrary to what was expected (slight disappointment for some). We still await eagerly the press conference that we will disclose it. Catherine Cusset

seems like someone playful, funny and quite nice. Qualifying itself narcissistic, she surprises us all by admitting that she had originally written the story of Mary (the stepdaughter of the main character of a bright future ), but that he had strongly advised to focus its energies on Elena. "In the novel, I'm Mary Catherine Cusset exclaims, and it was extremely difficult to cut as much in my own history! "Trend

verbo-motor of the author and book signing oblige, we leave FNAC very late in the program. So it's not a military that we run to the rendezvous point. Unfortunately, St. Hottote not ensuring on us tonight, the gods are against us. After many spins and somersaults-cons ("Are you sure? That is where?), We root out the underground and somehow find our way towards the famous" door Shepherd "knows no Parisien by her first name.

Obviously, the delay of an hour was more than enough that we lacked the appointment with Michael Andrew and Chantal. Call the hotel tower in the horizon coffee corner ... They finally appear (slightly blue) and bring us to the steak restaurant. Nobody dares to go back to the light incident delay, and so much better this way: who would be responsible for tensions on our last night?

Upon entering the restaurant, the waiter suggested we go to the basement, to enjoy more space. I still hear Meggie: "Another basement? Never two without three, me, I do not trust! . Immediately seated, each controlling his meal. It is because of the entry of Anne-Sophie and that Mom Joanne (Who accompanied us so far from the Picasso Museum) that doubts begin to soar. Indeed, they react oddly to the tough salad dressing that floods their faded: tingling and swelling of the lips ... The fish soup is disappointing, but no more, we look forward to the dishes. Finally, the main dishes. How sad to see happen salmon bearnaise sauce with a frozen, gelatinous type Knorr, and half-baked fries! What frustration of having to return four plates because their content is cool! No, really, the steak restaurant will not Michelin star not the slightest fork in the smallest guide ...

Finishing our meals, discussing the poor quality of the restaurant, I innocently turned my gaze to my mother's plate and saw, lo and behold, the pretty head of a beautiful caterpillar (?) Green ends bravely climbing the remaining salmon. The cries of panic and anger in Florence Ms. Garet enough to attract attention to our group. The friendly manager, after all our complaints, agreed to come and see us at our table, but never admit the relevance of our comments. It will still be a gift from his meal at my mother and the group pays eleven meal of the year.

Still, what fun! We laughed until we explode the spleen that night! Returning to the hotel is quick, tomorrow we get up early. We'll dream of giant slugs storming the walls of Paris?

The Friday, November 14, 2008: Departure for Montreal

Rise at dawn for all: check-out will take place at 6:30 sharp. Small eyes like raisins (!), We nibble for the last time the pastries and breads from the hotel Clement.

With a touch of nostalgia, we load the luggage on the bus on time and depart from the airport Charles de Gaulle. Goodbye Paris! or rather you again! Saint-Germain, Montmartre, Saint-Louis Island and many others! Even the "ring road" seems, at this point of the trip, a special beauty.

At the airport, the weighing of luggage, everyone is waiting anxiously for the verdict: my bag is she or is not it too heavy? Everybody goes his speculations and Gregory is declared winner: his background is definitely the lesser.

The aircraft taking off with an hour behind schedule, we care as we can, that the duty free shop, which by plunging into his schooling, which in his sleep. The appeal of travelers finally be heard and embrace the look one last time the ground has hosted the last ten days.

So we left France with his head full of culture, her heart full of memories (and bags of chocolate attic!) With the hope to return soon.

Anabel Cossette-Civitella