Halloween, American-Style

I haven't been in the US for a long time during the lead-up to Halloween. Perhaps it's been eight or nine years. This year, I noticed quite a few scary things going up before October 1.

We are/were in the US in October. What a surprise. Everyone's front yard looks like a graveyard. Porches, lawns and trees in my neighborhood are filled with pirates, zombies, ghosts and pumpkins. I haven't seen many witches for some reason, but I've spotted Frankenstein, the Headless Horseman and many scary things that I don't have a name for.



All these authentic looking decorations put my silly flashing jack-o-lantern to shame.

When the wind blows at night, the ghosts on one street blow with their sheets flapping. It is pretty realistic. That is, if you believe in ghosts.

The nursery is alive with decorations. They have a pumpkin patch for children (of any age) to select their pumpkins. They also have a giant (maybe 15 foot high) inflatable Frankenstein, an icky witch display and many other large, scary things.

A Dad was there with his two small girls for a Dad-daughter Saturday afternoon activity to pick pumpkins. He happily got a cart to put the pumpkins on as they went through the patch. But, the little girls would have nothing to do with this. Tears and shrieks erupted when they saw all the scary stuff. He had to immediately distract them and tell them that it's all for fun. They weren't buying any of it.

I haven't seen one decoration in France so far. I've seen a couple of pumpkins in the local health food store, but I think they're meant to be food. I have a few things left over from previous years and have added the flameless LED candles. I'm doing my best to celebrate in my own small way.

Haircut

The woman who's done my hair for years went "south" on me recently. She didn't return phone calls and texts for days, then when she did, she told me to give her more "lead" time when requesting an appointment. After two separate go-arounds of this nature, I decided it was time to move on.

This all happened several months ago. At first, even though my hair was getting longer and longer, I was OK. It was summer, long is OK. But, in the last couple of weeks it started to get downright "witchy" looking, just in time for Halloween.

I asked around and settled on a new hair stylist. I called and made the appointment with plenty of lead time just so I wouldn't start off on the wrong foot. It only hit me this morning that today is the day for the new salon, a place I've never seen before.

Be brave, be calm, I repeated over and over to myself.

I tend to get in a rut, going to the same people, who know what to do, so I don't have to work very hard to define what I need.

I arrived and met a nice woman, about my age. Good start. She's been at the same place for 33 years she told me. Another good piece of news. I started to relax a bit.

We discussed my hair type, what I need. It has to be able to fit into a pony tail for two reasons. One, I work out and need it off my face and two (I didn't tell her this one) is that if the cut is really awful I'll wear it in a pony tail until I can find someone to fix it.

The cutting started and it seemed that a lot more hair was being chopped off than I had expected. Pieces of hair were flying everywhere. I felt my lip start to quiver. We talked a bit but she was intently cutting away. As I saw it completed but wet I was very unsure about the finished product. It didn't look at all right, not like me at all. Lip continues to quiver and now my left eye is twitching. Be brave, be calm....

She dried my hair, while I tried not to look too much. When finished, she handed me a mirror and spun me around. I looked and was astonished. It looks great, better than the old place. I paid, gave her a compliment and made another appointment (with plenty of lead time).

Black Bra in the Suitcase

I have duplicates of many items of clothing -- one in the US and one in France. It makes sense. I never have to figure out where "it" is, and I always have "it" when I need "it".

One duplicate is my favorite black bra. I wear it all the time.

I recently noticed twin black bras, side-by-side in my drawer. This means that I didn't leave it. Maybe I wore it on the plane. In any case, it will have to go back with me.

In the interim, I've been wearing it.

I just took a short trip and threw one in the suitcase. It's not a suitcase that I use very often. When I returned, I put the suitcase away and forgot about it. Then, I went looking for the black bra. I only found one. The twin was missing. Where could it be? After a few days, I realized that it must be in the suitcase. Why do they make the lining in most suitcases black? I leave things in my suitcases all the time, I just don't see them when I'm unpacking, blind and half-dead after a long flight.

A quick search of the suitcase revealed black bra #2. Soon it will be returned to its home and hopefully it will stay there for awhile.

What's a French Franc Worth?

I just found this in my desk drawer. I don't have a clue how it got there. I wasn't searching the bottom of the unruly stack of Post-Its, pens, erasers and paperclips, it just popped up. A little gift.

I guess I'm stuck with it, as I can't exchange it for Euros. But, if I could, it would be worth approximately 7.6 euro cents. Since euro coins in France come in 1,2 and 5 cent denominations, it's worth a little something.

I have a plastic cup in my kitchen drawer filled to the brim with 1, 2 and 5 centime coins. They are like US pennies, a bother. Once in awhile, I will pull out a bunch of these coins and use them to buy a baguette. There's one boulangerie in our neighborhood that always gives me the 1's and 2's as change and I'm sure it's because of my accent. So, back they go! I put them in a baggie and pour them into the little wooden container that they have on the counter so that the clerk doesn't touch the customer when they pass the change. The clerk has to count them before handing over the bread. After five plus years of visiting this shop, you'd think they'd trust me.

Not all European countries have the small euro coins. I noticed in Holland, that the smallest denomination coin is the 5 centime. If the purchase is 83 centimes, they round up, and give you 15 centimes change for a Euro. I guess if it is 82 centimes, they give you 20 centimes? I don't remember, maybe they always round up, in favor of the store.

Just for the record, the French franc was valued before the Euro was introduced at 6.55957 francs per Euro. For many years, a popular gadget was a thing that looked like a calculator that translated Euros to Francs and vice-versa so people could figure out how much things cost. Price inflation when the Euro took effect is another blog post.

Kinda Disappointed -- IPHONE 4S?

I've been limping along with my original iPHONE 3, waiting for the fabulous new iPHONE 5 to roll out. I can only upgrade my phone every two years and get a good deal. I'm at least a year, maybe more overdue.

I guess, like everyone else that was waiting, I'll dutifully go out and get the iPHONE 4S when it is available and then wait for two more years. By then it will be the iPHONE 6 probably.

With two phones, one for each country, my "other" iPHONE contract will come due in April. Any hopes of a better phone by then, I wonder?

Carte Sesame +, 2011-2012

Many/most French museums have a "carte" that you can buy. These cards give you access to the museum without waiting in line. This is a huge benefit if you've ever tried to enter the Louvre or the Musee d'Orsday.

Other benefits that are less attractive but still important are things like a discount on food in the museum cafes, discount on purchases in the bookstore and usually docent-lead tours.

If we're in Paris for a long time, it's nice to "pop over" to the Grand Palais or the Louvre for an hour or two without thinking about it. One time, on a really hot day, we went to the Louvre mainly for the air conditioning. It was a Sunday in early Summer and very crowded, but we found a nice, vacant section of the museum and spent the day in absolute calm and cool.

You can go as often as you like, without waiting in line, without making a reservation.

At one time, I worked out the break-even on each card (individual price vs. number of times we went) and found that we saved a little bit of money and a lot of time by buying the card.

This year, I found that the card for the Grand Palais (called Sesame) has a new twist, they've added the Musee du Luxembourg to the card and called it Sesame +. For a mere Euro 22 more than the normal card, we can both go to this museum as often as we like. This is a great addition because this museum is close to home but normally very crowded. If we are holding the card, we can simply "pop" in when we see that there's no line.

Another exciting first for this year -- to buy the card on-line, you have to provide a photo. This year, my new computer has something called Photo Booth, so I just snapped my photo and downloaded it for my card. It isn't too bad, much better than the booths in the metro.

We Pay Our Taxes

We pay our taxes, in both the US and France. We don't ask much of either country, we just blindly pay whatever they say we owe.

When we need something done, I don't expect to have to fight for it. Today I did. I fought and I won, but it shouldn't be this way.

Right after lunch I looked outside toward the ocean, I must do it hundreds of times per day. This time the view was different. Yuck. A dead, oozing, pigeon was on my deck. Oozing yellow stuff, the puddle at least the same size as the bird.

I didn't want to touch it, wild birds have germs that I don't want. I called Animal Control. It's Sunday and they're only open Monday through Friday. Just like in France, nothing bad ever happens Monday through Friday, it always happens on a weekend or holiday.

I called the police dispatch. I was so freaked out that I almost dialed 9-1-1, but I know that's a no-no. The dispatch person who answered the phone told me to pick the bird up and throw it in the trash.

This is where the taxpayer in me starts to get a bit ruffled. I never call the police, the city, the county or the state to do anything for me. I called today. Obviously, if I felt I could pick up the dead bird and throw it in the trash, I would have already done it, I needed help.

The dispatcher finally agreed to send Animal Control out to our house, after a lot of questions -- is the bird in the back yard (if it was, I bet they wouldn't have come), is it in the front yard (well, not exactly, it's on a 3rd-floor deck), can Animal Control access it from outside (only with a tall ladder). She agreed to send someone out but couldn't tell me the ETA.

I settled down with some reading material, knowing that it might be awhile.

It must be a light day at Animal Control, a truck pulled up within the hour. I met the woman officer outside, explained the problem. She was nice and told me that she does this all the time, it's not a problem. Maybe the dispatcher was just in a bad mood.

The officer came in picked up the bird and unfortunately examined it, like an animal coroner. She thought that the bird had probably hit the window and broken it's neck. I'll accept this story because it sounds less germy than dying of salmonella or e-coli or some other pigeon disease. (I had enough time between the call and the visit to look up "pigeon germs" on the internet).

She also shared that they cremate all the dead animals and then make the remains into mulch to feed the city's plants. Maybe this will save a bit of taxpayer money.

Labor Day

It feels like Sunday, except the newspaper is soooooo skinny.

Robots or Food Processors?

The word for food processor in French is "le robot". It's so easy to remember, as in, "my little robot" that chops up food.

I went on an exhaustive search for a "robot" a few years ago after trying to make a fig sauce (from fresh figs) without one. I had to strain the figs through a collander and it was messy and time-consuming.

I looked on the internet then went to a store and bought one that I thought would be OK. I brought home an enormous box, took out millions of pieces and tried to put it together and test it. One key piece was missing and it wouldn't work, so I had to re-pack it (of course it didn't fit back the way it came) and trudge back to the store with the huge box. I asked for a refund and went to another store, this time, BHV.

The second robot was a success. It is smaller, with less parts. It wasn't expensive, less than Euro 100 and it is a workhorse. It has the capability to shred, slice, chop, grind, puree and make juice.

After searching for a "robot", I realized that they are much less expensive than in the US, a pleasant surprise, since this usually isn't the case.

In the US, I have one of the original Cuisinart food processors. Perhaps it is 25 years old, I have no idea. It has all the features and blades that I need. But, it doesn't work as well as I'd like anymore, food gets stuck between the blade and the bowl. I think it's time for a new one.

This should be easy, right? At least it should be easier and maybe cheaper than in France? I thought so. Off I went to the store. Nothing. There are two choices, very big, very expensive food processors or a new, small version that doesn't do many of the things a real food processor should do. This small version is really a dressed-up blender. All the nice ones are at least $200.

I'm sticking with the old one that makes noise and isn't perfect anymore. At least for now.

This Is What I Like About France

The simple pleasure of ice cream on a warm day.


What I like about this picture is that it sums up the simplicity of pleasure that I see in France. This sign, in the Luxembourg Gardens, says that they have been selling ice cream since 1850. I see many people, all of them thin and healthy looking (not young necessarily) that eat ice cream on a warm day. It's such a simple pleasure. The ice cream is hand-made from recipes handed down, generation to generation. It's made from natural ingredients -- because it tastes better.

Museum Girls

This isn't us

This is a scan of a card that my sister sent me awhile ago. I kept it because it could be us. Yes, a long, long time ago.

We both love museums. I don't think we went to art museums as kids. We went to the Page Museum near the La Brea Tar Pits, we went to the Museum of Science and Industry, we went to a place that had old trains that kids could look at, get inside, etc.

Somewhere along the way, we both found a love for museums. The last time we were together and didn't have back-to-back obligations, we went to a museum and an art installation (Rothko Chapel) in one day. I think we even squeezed in some shopping after all the art. We had a great day.

I was looking for something in my scans today and ran across this. It has to be shared. It makes me happy just to see these two cute little girls, all dressed up, enjoying a day at the museum.

Spinach In My Teeth

I am always grateful when someone has the courage to tell me that something is amiss.

Strangers face an unknown response when they decide to speak to someone. It's even more difficult to tell a stranger about a problem.

I was walking back to my car today along a narrow path from the gym. I passed another woman who was walking slower. I was still revved up from the workout. As I passed her, the woman said, "have a nice day". I turned back, smiled, thanked her and wished her a nice weekend.

This must have given her the courage to continue. "Can I fix your sweater, your tag is up in the back," she said. "Oh, thank you" I said after she tucked it in. The last thing I want is to be walking around confidently, feeling well-dressed, even cute, when everyone can see my tag sticking up at my neckline.

I am reminded of a dinner a few weeks ago with my husband and friends. When I got home and was washing my face and brushing my teeth I found a decent-sized piece of lettuce (roquette to be exact) on the gum line of one of my front teeth. I asked my husband if he had seen it during dinner and he admitted he had and didn't know how or what to say in a situation with others. So, I wore the greenery all night, smiling and happy, unaware of the ugly thing hanging from my teeth.

But, I'm chicken too. Several times I've been in situations where a man's fly was down. Usually it's in France, which makes it even harder. What is the word for zipper? Is sign language (point at the person's crotch) weird? Yes, of course it is. So, unless it's someone I know really well, I say nothing. The poor soul walks around all day with his fly open.

The moment of realization, whether it's spinach or the open zipper is always awful. How long have I been like this? Who's seen me? Why didn't anyone say anything?

I think the woman's approach today was perfect. She made social contact and waited to see the result. Positive result, next step is tell the person about the problem, negative result, let the person burn in embarassment.

Tagine

I know that I can make a tagine without the special cookware, any pot with a cover will do. But, part of the fun, mystery and excitement is having the right dish.

I've been looking everywhere for just the right tagine. Many that I've seen are beautiful but they can't be used for cooking, only for serving the dish. This kind of defeats the purpose. Then, the ones for cooking are either ugly or very expensive or not authentic enough. I found a Le Creuset one with a cast-iron bottom pan. I'm sure it would be great, but it's not what I had in mind.

Then, I ran across this yesterday at William Sonoma. I asked the guy that worked there if I could cook in it and he answered yes, but I didn't get a strong feeling that he really knew. Thanks to the internet, I looked it up when I got home with it and, yes, you can cook and microwave in it.

There is a down-side. I must soak it in water for 24 hours and then give it an olive oil bath and put it in the oven at a low temperature for 1-2 hours. A lot of work.

I've looked up tagine recipes and they seen to require a spice that I've never seen before -- ras el hanout. It's probably a combination of other spices, easily obtainable. After the tagine is fully seasoned, I'll have to find the spice.

Then, I also must find a willing audience to taste-test my new creations.

Help with my vinaigarette

For tonight's vinaigrette I need this ingredient.


I'm not going to the store again today.

Carmageddon

I think it's a great name. A little exaggeration, but who knows?

LA's main north-south route, the 405, will be closed this weekend in both directions so that the Mulholland Bridge, which crosses the freeway, can be rebuilt. They can't work on it with traffic whizzing by under it -- too dangerous.

But, the result could be chaos. Those LA residents living north of the closure who want to cool down at the beach, must take surface streets. Ditto for the other direction.

There are actually two traffic worries. I heard last night that authorities fear a 50 mile long traffic jam on the freeway, backing up to the last exit before the road closes. Yikes.

The other problem could be that the quiet, residential side streets meandering though some of LA's most pricey communities (Bel Air, Brentwood, Beverly Hills) will be clogged with people trying to get to their destinations via these alternate routes.

People, for some reason, are stocking up (hoarding) food, as if a natural disaster is on the way.

Even though it's the height of Summer, many people plan to stay home.

We stay home anyway, so it's not a big worry for us. We can watch it all on TV. They will have helicopters overhead, monitoring and reporting on it all.

For awhile, LA planners were worried that this project would catch people by surprise. A massive communications campaign, using every kind of media has been underway for weeks. I think it's worked.

Carmageddon was reported on both the national news channels last night and also on the french news. We're famous, again.

Movies

The original concept for this post was to detail the difference between movie offerings in the US vs. France during the Summer. My idea was that the movies offered in the US are for children and adolescents while in France, the films shown are predominantly for adults.

My research has proven me wrong though.

I compared three different cinemas in the UGC chain with the ARClight theaters in California. They have about the same total number of rooms and movies available.

Several of the movies are the same, including Transformers and Midnight in Paris. They don't have the same rating system in France but Transformers is rated PG-13 in the US, so it's not for small children. Evidently Harry Potter has either passed through the system in the US or hasn't been released yet, I'm not sure since I'm not a follower.

Of interest, the french cinema has a special Opera series. They show Opera that has been filmed, therefore reaching a larger audience and possibly an audience that can't afford to attend a live performance. I think there are places in the US where Opera is shown, unfortunately, Southern California isn't one of them.

Movie theaters are normally air conditioned. Much of the US is having a heat wave right now. I would rather spend the money on a movie on a hot afternoon than on the electricity it takes to cool a house. For most people in Paris, air conditioning is not allowed, so I'm sure the movie theaters are packed when it is hot.

The only movie that I'd like to see is Le Moine which is playing in Paris. I bet it will come to the US, perhaps dubbed into English.

Hopefully more films will come out that interest me this summer, but it's not the child-centric offering that I imagined.

Lack of Posts

The lack of posts on this blog is a consequence of my French class. I took the class during the Spring semester (mid-February to mid-June). I've taken many classes before, working diligently to improve my french, but never a full semester with the same teacher, same students for the whole time.

I decided to take the class because there are too many distractions. Studying by myself is difficult. I need structure and the fear factor.

Well, I got it and I'm going back for more.

I signed up for a university-level, semester-long class. I took an entrance exam, had to provide loads of paperwork to assure the school that I was up to the task, paid a lot of money (school isn't cheap).

I realized the first day of class that I would be the oldest student by 30+ years. This turned out to be the only down-side of this experience. While I love being around young people, university students, 18-22, are a bit too young to have a real-world conversation.

But, I went for the language, not to make friends.

Class started promptly at 9. On the first day of class, we had to discuss the "rules" for the class and agree to them as a group. No cell phones, no food during class, you must text the teacher if you are going to be late or absent.

A syllabus was passed out. We covered it all. The class was a mixture of grammar lessons (least popular), oral (comprehension and speaking), written (reading comprehension and production). Every grammar point was covered across the field.

We had tests! Even though I was there to learn, not for credit or a grade, I was not exempt. Of course I was stressed out. The tests were graded on the normal french system of X (your score) over 20, so X/20. I have no idea how this works. Every test had at least 40-50 possible points.

In the US, we're used to success and we normally work on a scale of 100%. A grade of 95 is good, 70 is awful, maybe failing. France is completely different. I learned along the way that the scores are also judged as: assez bien (OK), bien (good), tres bien (very good). There is no such thing as excellent. A score of 16/20 would be tres bien, no one ever got higher than 17/20. A score of 13/20 or 14/20 is considered bien (good). This is the category that I ended up in most of the time. One time I got 14.5 and smiled all day. If I tried to figure this out on the US system of 100, I could multiply by 5. So, 14/20 equals 70/100, certainly not "bien" in my book, but this is the way it worked.

Did I learn? I learned a lot. I studied hours per day after school. Tests don't ask for regular verb conjugations, they ask for the most esoteric, changeable, never-used verb tense. I learned/re-learned (knew this when in school but forgot it) to study for the test during the week prior to the test.

I made flash cards and carried them around with me, even when jogging. You never know when a question will need an answer. Instead of people-watching or listening to music, I studied my flash cards on public transportation. Somehow I never missed my stop.

School ended several weeks ago. I know I'll continue with my studies in the fall. But, I haven't lifted a book, a flash card, haven't conjugated an irregular verb unless I needed it, and haven't thought much about the passe simple.

I understand what Summer's all about.

Watching 60 Minutes

I know that it is possible to download US TV shows over the internet and watch them anywhere in the world. Our technology set up won't allow this and we're scared to upgrade (touch) anything.

Our French TV is nine years old. Our computers are 5-6 years old. Burglars, beware, there is nothing here for you, no flat panels, no iPADS, no wifi printers.

We're scared to upgrade because any little change could blow up the fragile system. As it is, we get internet, TV, and phone via phone lines (VOIP and regular) from France Telecom. With this set up, we can't even use some of the phone jacks, they must be "terminated" with a special plug. We don't have a phone (or a TV) in the master bedroom. It's not possible.

We don't get wifi in the back of the apartment because the stone walls (murs porteurs) stop it.

French television programming leaves a lot to be desired. We watch the news in English and then in French. Once in awhile, we get a good movie or I watch Cuisine TV (usually dubbed from English). We watch tennis when there's a major tournament.

We read a lot. In the summer, it is light until 11 PM, so we stay out later.

In the US, we have the normal technology. Nothing fancy but it all works. Phones where we need them, several TV's (even though we only use one). We can record our favorite programs for months at a time, as long as the hard disk in our DVR has space. So, we record some of our favorite things. 60 Minutes is one of them. We've been watching the last 5 months of programs. We watch them in reverse chronological order -- the newest ones first. We just got to the program that they interrupted to tell the world that "public enemy #1" was dead. I found out on the internet the next morning, but I can't imagine how much fun it would have been to see it live on TV.

Perhaps we'll re-visit our technology needs.

Looking For Navy

Black is my go-to color. Is black a color? I don't remember the rule.

I've been reading up on fashion trends lately and I see everywhere that navy blue is "in". It's also very close to black, easy to match things, easy to accessorize.

So, out I went today, hoping for some summer navy. One store even had a window display saying, "Blue Summer". No luck. I didn't find any navy, and very little blue. I found a lot of lavender, one of the most horrible colors against my skin.

I came home empty-handed but not discouraged. I'll be out in the next few weeks, searching for the perfect navy outfits.

Is This Globalization?

My friend Susan and I were visiting the Jardin des Plantes recently. It was a lovely day, but a bit hot and sticky.

She pulled some hand cream out of her purse and used it, then offered it to me. I refused, my hands weren't dry. But, it's anti-bacterial, she said. Yeah! Anti-bacterial hand lotion that smells good. Where did you find this?

The US, of course. The anti-bac hand lotion had traveled from Boston to the Jardin des Plantes, there's nothing like it in France.

I just went to buy some today. It wasn't on the shelf in the store. So I asked. Evidently, this is such special stuff, it doesn't last on the shelf you have to ask for it.

So, my French tip for hand lotion has made a round trip, US-France-US again. I'm going to stock up.

Is This Art?

I guess everyone has his/her own opinion, but for me, this isn't art. What do you think?

Today's Crisis

Was a lost package. UPS has been very faithful in their bi-weekly deliveries to us. Since yesterday was a holiday here, I'm sure UPS was swamped. When we didn't get the package by the promised hour, I checked the tracking number which said that the package had been delivered and that we'd signed for it.

A quick check with Maria, our guardienne, our mailbox and the other apartments in the building yielded zero.

So we called UPS. Of course, as soon as we got on the phone, our other phones started ringing and we had to answer all of them, all of this was just coincidental.

The woman we got on the phone at UPS told us that she couldn't/wouldn't do anything for us that we had to contact the "expediteur". Of course, it's the middle of the night in the US and if we don't find the package immediately, we never will. No help, we hung up.

As we were on our second pass through the building, a breathless UPS guy came running in. Evidently, he delivered the package to the wrong building and someone signed for it and took it. Luckily, the man was honest and called UPS.

Crisis solved, but not without an hour of sheer confusion.

The scary part is that UPS is the best delivery service, we've already used Fed Ex, DHL and the post office, all with more problems than this.

Signs Can Be Deceiving

Translation: Madame (or A Woman) and her Bulldog.
I've gone by this shop many times, usually on the 83 bus. I can only guess that either the owner has a bulldog or the demographic of this store includes women with dogs.

Chloe, I thought I might be able to find you something in this shop, even if you're not a bulldog. But, it's for humans only.

The Beautiful Canals of Amsterdam

After an easy metro and train ride including about three hours on the Thalys, we arrived in Amsterdam. Everything about this city is different and new. There are beautiful, peaceful canals with lovely homes and small restaurants at the water's edge.



It is Spring here too. Everything is green, there was lots of pollen in the air, just like in Paris.


Everyone speaks English, so I relaxed, realizing that for a few days, I could communicate without a struggle. Cars, busses, trams and bicycles stop for you when you look like you're going to cross the street. Everyone is friendly.



The french think they have cheese -- this cheese display was in a grocery store. We bought a small piece and had it for our lunch on our last day, it was delicious. But, we did have one disappointment. We never got to see the Anne Frank house. We went by it about four or five times, at different hours of the day (one time at 7:15 PM) and the line always looked like this.




I know we'll be back and they'll make room for us in the line.

It Happens Like Clockwork

I just saw them lurking near my window box. The pigeons are back. I take pride in my window boxes, they are the only garden that I have here. I just finished re-doing them for Spring. It makes me happy to look out the window and see the flowers, see the bees busily working on my flowers.



But the pigeons are the "spoilers". They want to make a nest in my beautiful boxes. One year we were gone for a few days and came back to this!



The pigeon was very protective of her work, too. It took me several days to persuade her that this is my home, not hers. Today I heard little footsteps outside the window. When I looked out, not one but two pigeons were marching proudly around my window box, examining it from all angles. When I tried to shoo them away, they were defiant, they didn't move!

I'm going to have to get out the CD's again, an ugly way to keep the pigeons away but better than losing all my plants.

A Sighting

I've lived in LA all my life and rarely see a "movie star". Once I saw Dustin Hoffman in a health food store. I think that many of the people we see in movies and on TV look less impressive in real life.

Not so with Deneuve.

I was walking home from the Luxembourg Gardens a couple of days ago on rue de Fleurus. It was a beautiful sunny day and there was a crowd at the small tabac/cafe, Le Fleurus. I passed by, looking more closely at what people were eating and drinking (it was lunch time) than who was there.

A woman caught my eye. I went through the mental gymnastics. Do I know her? If so, what is her name? Where do I know her from?

I was wearing a visor and sunglasses, so I was somewhat incognito, but I was close enough that if this woman knew me, she would have said something.

I couldn't think of her name, and she certainly didn't recognize me, so I went home. About five seconds after I passed, I realized who it was -- silly me. It was Catherine Deneuve.

I'm very glad I didn't try to say "hi" now, of course. The most interesting thing, though, is that, in broad, unflattering daylight, she was absolutely gorgeous. The hair was just like in the movies. She was wearing glasses with red frames, they looked great on her. I was truly impressed.

Now I'll have to be on the lookout for more stars.

Scaffolding Is Gone!

We've had scaffolding all over our building since mid-November. Workers climbing on it Monday through Friday, banging, clanging and looking in our windows. It felt dark and closed in.








On Thursday, it all started to come down. It took two full days but by Friday night, it was all gone and the courtyard was swept, ready for the weekend.

There's only one problem -- a huge construction project in an apartment with tons of debris being put in the courtyard every day. Will it ever end?

A Power Outage Fixes The TV

Only in France!

Ever since we changed to daylight savings time, almost two weeks ago, I noticed that the clock on our TV was still registering the old time. Plus we couldn't get all the other channels that we used to get.

This bothered me a little, but since we were getting the channels we always watched, it was better not to mess with France Telecom, the Livebox, the decoder. It's too frustrating and can take many days to get to the bottom of a problem.

I was in my french class this morning when there was a long power outage. When we had a break, I got a call from Terry, saying there was a rolling blackout caused by a strike at EDF. OK, the power was back on at school and at home.

I asked Terry to check the TV and he said it was still rebooting.

When I got home, the TV decoder was showing the right time. I turned it on and, to my surprise, all our TV service and all our channels had been restored.
It only took a power outage to fix our TV.

I'm Considering Vegetarianism

I love to cook things that "cook themselves". You just put them in the oven with some spices, a little wine, or something easy like that and then take it out and dinner's ready. That's why I like small birds, like cornish hens in the US and quail anywhere I can find it.

Last night's dinner took on a new dimension when I looked closely at the quail I'd bought. Yikes. Their heads are still on! I don't like to look into the eyes of my dinner. This includes fish. I also don't want to see feet, tails, or fur of any kind.



Of course Terry wasn't around to do the "dirty work". So, out came my knife. I tried not to look too closely (even when I took the pictures). I wonder why they left the heads on? No one would want to eat them, I hope! They are tiny.

I felt pretty brave after cutting off their heads. It wasn't very hard, since they're small. But, this doesn't mean I'm considering a job at the butcher shop in my neighborhood. Cutting the heads off almost took the fun away from cooking these lovely little things. But, I managed to cook them and eat one!




Without the heads, of course.

Dupuis, the French "Smith"

We are having dinner tonight at a woman's apartment. She gave us all the directions that we need. We hope.

In Paris, you need the person's street address, the person's phone number (for emergencies), the front door code and the person's last name to get into the inner door of the building. There are normally two locked doors, one on the street (where you punch in a code) and one inside the building that leads to a staircase or elevator. The second door usually has a buzzer that buzzes the person's apartment, you talk to them and if you're invited, they buzz you in.

For large buildings, you also need to know which building they live in which is usually designated A, B, C, etc.

Tonight we're thinking there might be a problem. We're going to visit a person named Dupuis who lives in a large building. Dupuis in France is the equivalent of Smith or Brown in the US. The woman told us that there are three Dupuis families in her building. And she lives in Building B. Imagine how many are spread over A-D combined.

Other common names seem to all start with D -- Dupont, Dugas.

We're leaving a little bit early just to sort through the Dupuis buttons on the inner courtyard door. Maybe they should have names like Dupuis-1 (the first Dupuis to live there) through Dupuis-3. That would work nicely.

Wish us luck. It's cold outside and we'll be buzzing every Dupuis in the building until we find the place that's got dinner cooking. Or until one of the other Dupuis families calls the police on the crazy couple carrying flowers that's buzzing every door.

Things Disappear

While we're in one place, things disappear from the other place. They are things that I like, that I rely on. I get on a plane and "poof" it's gone!

Restaurants and shops are the businesses that do the disappearing act the most often. But there's also the beloved hair stylist or esthéticien that moves away.

This time, I've lost two things important to my pleasure, although not my daily well-being.

L'etudiant, a dive restaurant and bar with great, inexpensive food has changed hands. We went by the other night and they were painting the inside white. White is the only color that wasn't present in the old, beloved L'etudiant. Cracked brown plastic booths, mosaic tiled floor, a wooden rustic old bar created the atmosphere of the place. I'm sure the prices will go up and the quality will go down.

But, the thing that has caused the most grief so far is the loss of my tennis racquet stringer. First match in Paris and I broke a string. I didn't think much about it at the time because we had a good stringer at a shop in Montparnasse called Roissy Sports. The next day, we went to the store and it was closed, "Fermeture Travail".

I went home and called their number and a man answered and informed me that the store will be closed until June (read November) and that the stringer was at his house and not working. Yikes. This lead to a flurry of internet searches and a few failed trips around Paris. The worst was at Decathalon at Madeline where the woman stringer suggested the "bas de gamme" stings (low quality) at a price of Euro 42.95. We dashed out of the store since a good string should cost less than 20.

Another search yielded something quite surprising, a tennis shop in our neighborhood on a street that we go down all the time. I called and yes, he was there! We went, dropped off the racquet and found out he could string it in one hour for Euro 15.

Now if I can find a restaurant to replace L'etudiant, I'll be even. There's even a cute boutique that took the place of a beloved card shop in the neighborhood.

Imperfect

Not me, what a silly thought!

The verb tense -- "imparfait". It's driving me crazy this week.

I'm in school these days to try to improve my french. Yes, I can communicate, understand, read and write, but it's not pretty, not elegant, in a word, imperfect.

The first few classes were a breeze. Even though I'm at least twice the age of the next oldest pupil, I seem to be keeping up, even achieving at a high level.

Until yesterday. A worksheet was introduced. We had to read a long paragraph with a description of a person's choice of education and career, based on experiences as a child. Easy enough. I understand it all. We were asked to place the activities and occurrences in the order in which they happened. Since some happened at the same or almost the same time, this was a little bit challenging but I whipped through that exercise with flying colors.

Then, the XXXX started to happen. Below this activity, on the same page it asked us to put other events on a timeline, with the verb and verb tense below. I froze. All at once, I was reading Chinese. My mind was spinning, out of control. When this happens, nothing enters or exits, it's a free-fall. The teacher came to the rescue, patiently explained it, I pretended to understand but was still in free-fall.

She gave us homework, also incomprehensible. I've re-done it at least 10 times, I've gone through an entire eraser on the end of my pencil.

Out come the books. I've applied myself to the theory, the rules of this verb tense. Terry thinks it's easy. I hear others use it with ease. Of course, I don't know if they're using it correctly or not, since I don't understand it at all. I'll be studying this today, trying to make sense out of the imperfect.

Another Line

I'm still not completely "over" my day at the DMV last week.

I am very impatient when I have to wait for something. Standing in a line is even worse than waiting while sitting down. They are both bad, a waste of time.

It's a weekend. We should know better than to go to a temporary exposition, especially one that is about to close. I've wanted to see the Henry Moore at the Rodin since last December. It will close soon, so off we went on a rainy Saturday.

We always get a bit lost when going to the Rodin. It is always my fault, according to Terry. We even question whether the signs are pointing in the wrong direction, it is a possibility...

Finally we find it. We can see the line before we can see the museum itself. It's the after lunch crowd, fully fortified and ready for the afternoon. Our spartan lunch (alcohol-free) will not keep us warm, I fear.

We hike to the end of the line. It's raining lightly. We wait. Didn't I just do this in California a few days ago. Is it worth it? Obviously it is for the 30+ people happily chattering in front of us.

More people arrive and the line gets longer. But, it moves fairly quickly. Perhaps it is just security? When we get to the door, we realize there is no security, only crowd control. They have one cashier at the desk. Kind of like the DMV.

Department of Motor Vehicles

It seems that some types of circumstances are universal worldwide, unfortunately.

One of them is dealing with civil servants. The State of California has been in financial trouble for several years. To help offset this crisis, state offices are closed for "furlough" days several times a month.

The already overburdened, overcrowded offices are now teeming with indignant, stressed-out customers trying to deal with the unhappy, underpaid, typically lazy civil servants.

I try to never deal with any of these offices. With the internet, until today, I've been successful.

Saturday (doesn't it always happen on a weekend) I got a notice from the DMV that I have to appear in person to renew my driver's license. Evidently, they are issuing new licenses with fingerprints and they wanted an up-to-date photo. I also needed to take a vision exam.

I didn't realize that if I am out of the country, I could have gotten an extension for up to one year. I guess you have to read the small print on page 14 of the 94 page document, "California Driver Handbook".

I cleared my calendar this morning, got up early and arrived at the DMV (a 40 minute drive) at 8 AM, opening time. I was about 200th in a long line (people without appointments) that snaked around the building. There were so many people that I couldn't find a spot to park in the lot and had to drive around on side streets until I found a place to park.

I got in line. Luckily it was warm, unlike France, where we are always standing outside the Prefecture de Police in sub-zero temperatures. But, it was early in the morning and the sun was low and right in our eyes.

The line was moving, slowly, but we made progress. I was inside the building by 10 AM, fifth in line to "take a number". At this point, a worker made an announcement that the computer systems, state-wide, were "down" and it would be at least 15-20 minutes before they could process anyone.

I thought that there would be a rush for the door, but no, no one budged and no one complained. We waited. Spanish was the predominant language, so I couldn't talk to my line-mates. There was even a homeless man with all his stuff in wheeled carts in line. I have no idea why he was there, since he obviously didn't have a car or all his worldly possessions would have been safely locked up.

We wait. My feet hurt, my back is in spasms. I'm missing my workout, I'm in hell.

Just when I think I can't take it any more, the system is restored. But, they don't start issuing numbers to our line. They clear the appointment line first, so we have to wait another 10 minutes for that.

Finally I get a number. I enter and sit down with about 100 people. We're sitting on little plastic chairs. Numbers are called but not quickly. I wait and wait. I pace around. No one else is pacing, they are all sitting quietly.

After another 20 minutes or so, my number is called. Everything goes smoothly, I pass the vision test, pay my $31. My last stop is the photo station.

I arrive at the photo station which is at the other side of the office. No one is there taking pictures. I wait awhile, no one comes, no one notices the line that is forming behind me of people that need their pictures taken. I call out to the people in the office, I can see them. Just like a French waiter, they see me but don't acknowledge me. I am now seething. I call and call. There are five people standing around, about five feet from me, laughing, talking, drinking coffee, telling about their weekend. Finally I get someone's attention and ask where is the photo person. He tells me that he'll go find them, but he goes back to talking. I scream some more. Finally, he comes over (it's obviously his post that was vacant) and takes my picture.

I'm outta there.

A Day of Frustrations

Air France is now Delta in the US. I hate to use the word "transparent", especially since the transition has been anything but. Today I got an email, in French, from Air France. It said that I needed to "click here" and enter my passport info and other sensitive data.

Afraid of "phishing", I knew I had to call the airline. First I tried Air France. All lines were busy and, as usual, after a 20 minute wait they hung up on me. I tried Delta and got a recording saying that their systems were overloaded with calls, try back later. I tried Flying Blue, the frequent flyer program for Air France, long wait. So, I gave up.

But, the letter said that I had to provide this info 72 hours in advance or we couldn't fly. But, I can't call you and I'm not entering all this stuff into an unknown site.

I went to the gym, did a few things and tried back later. After another 10+ minute wait, I got a woman on the phone who said, indeed, I needed to enter this info on line, they can't do it on the phone. Ick. So, I got out the documents, went on line (not by clicking "here"), but by trying to find it on the web site. Of course, it was buried and I had to go through about seven screens to get to the right place. I entered the info, and printed it, just in case.

The afternoon wasn't much better. My iPHONE wouldn't sync with my computer and I need to keep it all up to date. A call to an Apple "genius" required another 10+ minutes on hold while they figured it out and another 10+ minutes downloading new software.

It's starting to get dark now and I am happy to report that order has been restored and all these things have been fixed. What's in store tomorrow? I'm afraid to ask.

Speaking French Non-Stop

It is rare to hear French in Southern California but in the last two days, I've had two encounters with francophones.

In both cases, it was a surprise. Just now I was walking down the street and a woman was in the middle of taking a photo. I paused for a second but when she didn't move, I said, "Excuse Me" to the woman so that she wouldn't get my profile in her sunset shot. She replied, "Allez-y" to my surprise.

My head swiveled around, I smiled and replied with no hesitation, "Bienvenue a ma belle ville". This caused a flurry of conversation and laughing with her group but no other reply to me, so I continued on my way.

The day before I was at the gym and I passed by two women speaking french to each other. Automatically, I blerted out, "Par-don". They both laughed and remarked in English to me and we all thought it was funny that I automatically went into French with them. They turned out to be American and were much friendlier than the French group, surprise, surprise!

The best part of these exchanges is that I'm now responding, almost automatically in French, even when I'm in the US. Hurray!

Everyone Knows About French Strikes

France is famous. For many things, the food, the wine, the art.

I've run into several people recently who remark quickly about the strikes in France. Every visitor to France seems to have a story. Or many.

We've started to take them for granted. A little annoying but normally they don't cause us too many problems.

Visitors have problems getting to and from the airport during a strike. Their favorite museum could be closed due to a strike. Planes might not run. Walking down the street becomes a bit hazardous if you run into a demonstration. It even seems that there is less food in the grocery stores.

We all realize it's part of the culture of France. But it's not among the most charming attributes of a wonderful country.

It's Been 30 Years

Our city started a project to put the utilities underground many years ago. We knew it wouldn't happen quickly but we've been waiting almost 30 years for this day.

It looks like the pole is coming down right now!

Also, check out what a beautiful day it is, 80 and sunny. It's not normal for January but we'll take it.

The Northern Lights

For a beautiful slide show, go here:

http://www.vacationstogo.com/slideshow.cfm?set=Northern_Lights

Enjoy the show.

Pot Holders

My pot holders (oven mitts to some, gant isolant to others) were "over the hill" at Christmas time. Stained, burned, generally not fit for everyday use, let alone a party.

It's not that I don't want new ones, it's just that I forget I need them immediately after I put them away. Aghast the next time I take them out, I vow to replace them. I've done this again and again.

Until today. I guess it pays to shop sometimes. I mean "SHOP". Walk around a store from one end to the other, looking at everything. Needs get remembered. Like pot holders. I scored some this afternoon, brought them home and put the old ones out of their misery. What a relief. I'm having guests for dinner this weekend and I won't have to hide them between uses.

The French Have A Way of Complicating Things

Our apartment was broken into last month.

They broke the door and the lock but didn't get in. Of course, the door was left partially open for days because our neighbors and the concierge either didn't notice it or didn't do anything if they saw it. We'll never know for sure. It couldn't have been quiet.

Now, the hard part -- fixing it and getting our insurance to pay for it.

Fixing it should be easy. The first guy who came out to fix the lock and the door didn't align the door properly. The door would only open a little bit and even that put big scratches in the hardwood floor.

He came back to fix it. In fixing his first work, he burned two patches in the hardwood floor with a blow torch.

The door is fixed. The floor is a wreck.

Insurance should pay for the door and the lock, but it's the locksmith's insurance that has to pay for the floor damage, I think. Hard to say for sure.

First we'll have to prove that we didn't burn the holes in the floor using a blow torch. Kinda hard to imagine since we don't own a blow torch. Next we have to prove that the scratches weren't there before the door was fixed. Harder to prove but still shouldn't be a problem.

Also, we'll have to get the floor fixed. How many steps should this take? Not many. But, I'm sure it will take multiple visits and steps. Since it's right at the front door, we won't be able to go in or out and we probably won't be able to close the door.

I'm sure this is the tip of the "complication" iceberg. We're just happy the damage was as small as it was.

We'll be waiting for the check from the insurance company since we had to pay for the work "up front".

Band Aids and Other Household Supplies

Last month, I sliced a big chuck of skin off my index finger knuckle. It bled like crazy. Of course, I was in the middle of cooking a big dinner for Terry's birthday. Not wanting to put a damper on the festivities, I tried to bandage it up and press on. Don't they use duct tape in professional kitchens?

The show must go on. I went to the bathroom cupboard, which was almost bare. We had about five band-aids, all of them tiny; totally insufficient for this job. Isn't that always the case? It's almost impossible to supply the house with every possible product for every possible eventuality and need. Band aids seem like an easy thing to keep on hand, but only if the person who uses the last one remembers to add it to the shopping list. And, in the heat of bandaging something up, the last thing you think about is the grocery list.

I put a big piece of gauze over the cut and then taped my finger up.

Within five minutes blood was coming out both sides. A lot of blood. So, I put an even bigger piece of gauze over the original one and re-taped it up. It held.

The next day, the whole thing came off and the bleeding started up where it left off. So, I replaced my improvised band aid and pressed on with family fun. Still no band aids in the house.

Days went by like this. I never thought to buy band aids because I was using my improvised band aid. Finally the cut healed.

I never bought band aids. Today, Terry sliced his finger on a tape dispenser. Almost as bad as mine but not quite. He used the same basic method of tape and gauze. Seems to be catching around here.

But, this afternoon, I decided to go to the store and stock up. Now, we've got every possible size, shape and color of band aid, all in bathroom cabinet, ready for the next mishap.

What else is missing for the medicine cabinet? We'll never know until we need it, I fear.

Heating

It's cold everywhere right now.

Inside it's warm. It's great to have a warm home, warm water for a shower. I take these things for granted.

Living in Southern California most of my life, I thought that everyone used the same system(s) to heat the house, heat water, wash dishes and laundry. We have a balloon water heater that holds a large capacity of water. It keeps the water constantly warm so that when you need it you get it. Hot water is not instantaneous since it has to travel from the tank through the pipes to the needed spigot. But, eventually it is nice and warm. Since most of the time there are only two of us at home, we don't run out of hot water. But if we have visitors, we have to remember that the amount of water is limited by the size of the tank and not immediately replaced. So, if four or five people take a long hot shower while the dishwasher and the clothes washer are going, we will be out of hot water. Don't take the last shower or you'll be out of luck.

The dishwasher and the clothes washer rely on water heated by the hot water heater so they use up their share.

In France, there are many systems for heating and hot water. On rue de Seine, we had electric heaters on walls that you turned on individually. We had a balloon for hot water in the closet. The place was so small that we never ran out of hot water and we rarely turned on a heater. If it was cold, by the time I'd finished cooking dinner, the place was nice and warm. Even candles helped.

Now we have a "chaudiere". It is one of these instant hot water things. It is used for both hot water and heating the apartment. It works really well. It is economical since it doesn't heat the water until you need it. Water is instantly hot. Warmth starts coming out of the radiators the minute you turn them on. We never have to worry about who will get the last shower since the water will be hot whenever it is needed.

The most unusual thing about french appliances is that both the dishwasher and the clothes washer use only cold water. The machines heat the water during use. You can tell the machine how hot you want the water to be. So, these machines don't compete with showers either.

I think the French have been much more conscious of their usage of gas and electricity. Lights are not on in the hallways of buildings. You have to turn them on. Then they are on timers. You're left with enough time to go up about three flights of stairs and then the hallway goes dark again and you have to turn the lights back on again. People don't leave lights on when they leave a room. Lights switches (no idea why) are often on the outside of the bathroom.

I wonder how long it would take for the US to change to these systems. It seems that it would save a lot of energy consumption with an added benefit that everyone would always have a warm shower.

The Christmas Decorations Are Down A Little Bit Early

I had some time yesterday and decided to take the Christmas decorations down. It's a bit earlier than usual.

Every year, I love the tradition of getting them out and putting them up. It's festive. I've collected these decorations over many years. Each item is special.

With the fireplace crackling (it's been cold) and the decorations up, it really seems like Christmas.

This year, ever since the day after Christmas, the decorations started to seem bothersome. Too much stuff. I prefer less clutter. So, down they came and back into their boxes.

I'm quite organized. I label the boxes and try to put "like" things together. It's never perfect but it's much easier to decorate next year if I know what's in each box.

I stopped at the market and bought some tulips which now are my only decorations. They haven't opened yet, but they will last for at least a week. It still looks a bit empty but we'll get used to it, we have 11 months until the next round of decorations.

"That's As Close As I'm Getting"

Chloe won't admit it, but she's afraid of Christmas decorations that are at eye-level. Every elf, candy cane and pointsettia got a round of barking, hackles up or running away.

Rough time of year!

Rosé Champagne

I've experimented with rosé champagne in France on several occasions and never been disappointed.

When faced with the difficult task of selecting a glass of champagne for my Christmas meal yesterday, I took a chance on Etoile sparkling rosé wine. Yum! It was incredible.

Happy Holidays

It's never hit me quite like it has this year.

Yesterday was Christmas Day. Why not just say, "Merry Christmas"? There wasn't another holiday yesterday. So, why say "Happy Holidays"? Is this phrase supposed to include New Year's Day, which is next week? Although it is politically correct to say Happy New Year it is generally considered more "correct" to say Happy Holidays for Christmas.

I disagree. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to acknowledge a Christian holiday. And, on the other side of this, if it's Hanukkah, I might say, "Happy Hanukkah" although I guess I'd be saying it for 8 days. I wouldn't say, Happy Holidays.

While I was out walking yesterday morning, everyone I encountered said "Merry Christmas" to me and I replied in kind.

I don't think it's insensitive or incorrect to acknowledge a holiday for what it is.

Exercise In the Snow

Normally I prefer to exercise by going around the inside of the fence. Due to snow and probably ice, the Luxembourg Gardens was closed.

That's never stopped me before. Nor did it stop the "regulars" that I see every day when I'm out. We were all out, circling the outside of the fence, trying to stay inside the sandy areas to avoid ending up on the ground. It's not even that cold, it's just snow.




And, it's beautiful. I try to imagine being a princess inside the chateau looking out at this Winter scene. Of course, my imagination doesn't take me to the part of 15th century with no running water, electricity or toilets. That's not the dream.

Instead, I'm in a red velvet dress, low cut. My hair is up in the newest french style. Red velvet shoes, almost Pope-like adorn my feet. Jewels are everywhere including pearls, diamonds, rubies in gold. I'm warmed by the enormous fire in every room.

Quite different from the bundled up girl in ASICs shoes slowly making her way around the outside of the fence on a snowy December day.

Nespresso Came Through For Me

The day after our 11 hour flight, we needed coffee badly.

We turned on the Nespresso, put in a pod, pushed the button and nothing happened.

In our brain-dead, jet-lagged state, we repeated the same action a second time without really investigating. Suddenly brown liquid started pouring out the bottom of the machine, not into the cup. A coffee flood in the kitchen is not what I needed at this moment.

It took all my emotional strength to not throw myself on the floor and have a tantrum. Is it too much to ask to have a cup of nice, freshly brewed coffee? Evidently.

Necessity required a phone call. I went to the internet found the number for Nespresso and called. I was connected instantly with a nice man who said he could help. I was not optimistic, but he was my only hope.

We went into the kitchen, he was on the phone with me and he put me through a number of steps. Finally, it worked. He reported that it was just an air bubble, call anytime. And, he told me that if it ever really breaks, they have a program to send a new one. Customer service exists, at least at Nespresso.

Cambriolage

We got a call on Sunday morning. Our apartment had been broken into.

This is a shocking phone call to get at any time, but we felt that our place was pretty secure. We have a reinforced, armored door, double glazed or "effraction" (non-breaking) windows. Evidently it's not enough if someone targets the place for whatever reason.

Our door looked like this:



And, it couldn't be opened, it was jammed shut so we had no idea for more than 24 hours if our apartment had been ransacked or not. Unfortunately, this all happened on Sunday (does anything ever happen Monday through Friday from 9 to 5?) during a huge snowstorm so not much could be done until Monday morning. We agreed to leave the door as it was, hoping that no one else would see it in this state, since it was partially open.

We spent Sunday morning calling our insurance company (not there) our syndic (ditto), a trusted worker (he answered), and emailed everyone. Barbara, who watches our apartment, was wonderful, running from the police station, getting bids for the work and keeping us in the loop. Then we had to wait.

With nine hours time difference, we knew that our night's sleep would be interrupted as Paris came to life and it was. But, it was worth it.

By noon our time, the locksmith was working on the door, the insurance had agreed to pay and the police station would release the report for insurance purposes.

Is there a lesson in all of this?

While we try to be vigilant, we don't want it to run/ruin our lives. The door held the bad guys off long enough that the only casualty was the door, they didn't get in. Even if they had, we have very little of value inside -- an eight year old TV and stereo, the cables for our computers that aren't in the apartment, some winter clothes. Not worth the hard work of taking a crow-bar to our door, guys! Next time, try our rich neighbors with the antiques and the paintings, the jewelry and maybe even some cash!

We feel lucky that it wasn't worse. And upon our return, we will install more security features for sure.

La Neige

This photo was taken out of our window on Wednesday. It snowed all day.

Snow is beautiful. I love it.

Having grown up in Southern California, snow is unique.

Before coming to Paris, I didn't even have a true winter coat. Now I have about five of them, long ones, short ones, dressy ones, casual ones, even the huge full-length down coat (with a hood) that's gotten a lot of action in the past week.

A Birthday at 37,000 feet

We missed our flight due to the snow. We've heard that this was the worst snowstorm in Il de France since 1987.

The cab company called to tell us that the cab wasn't coming.

We momentarily toyed with the idea of consolidating enough stuff to hold us over into one suitcase and making a dash for the RER. But the fear (we watched the news all morning) that we'd be stuck at the airport, sleeping on the ground with one of those ugly blue blankets made the decision easy.

After being put on hold by Air France for 30 minutes, they announced that we'd been on hold for too long and terminated the call. Great! So, we called back and finally got someone. I don't know how it will all turn out because they charge for the call and we were on hold, in total, for over an hour.

Travel plans in the winter are notoriously fragile. We're now spending the morning re-grouping, canceling and re-scheduling.

One date that can't be changed is Terry's birthday. Instead of a sushi dinner and a movie, he'll be crammed into an Air France seat at 37,000 feet. The only thing that will make this bearable is that they still serve French champagne, even in coach.

What is the translation for "Aller Retour?"

Yesterday, Pierre asked me (not knowing about this blog) what is the translation for "aller retour". When I told him, "round trip" he didn't believe me. It's too boring sounding, not at all magical. Round trip? Yes, Pierre, I'm afraid it's true.

Then he asked for the translation of "retour". I told him, "return". So, why can't you translate "aller retour" literally, to go, to return, hence a round trip.

It's another one of those things that just doesn't translate very well.

Looking Back

It's cold and dark outside. It's only 4 PM but I'm not motivated to go outside at all. So, I'm doing indoor stuff this afternoon. Did a little bit of organizing and cleaning (collectively known as "nesting") and now I'm on the computer, backing up, organizing, cleaning out. I feel so much better after I've done this.

I've downloaded all the photos from my camera and my phone(s) (don't ask...) this afternoon. Looking at them is like a review of the last few months of my life. I can see the weather change from summer to winter, the activities I'd already forgotten about, the things I do every day.

I have pictures of summer artichokes, horses at the Republican Guard headquarters, a trip to La Defense, a long line to buy honey at the beehives of the Luxembourg Gardens. I have plenty of photos of the strikes in Paris, lines of gendarmes, the frenzy of demonstrators with their noise music and huge balloons. I have some photos of the WICE Open House and more recently our Noël Sing-Along last week. The street light that illuminated our bedroom when it was removed (a good thing), Cecile's cooking class.

Digitial photos are great. I tend to take a lot more photos. Any that aren't good, I delete immediately. I store them on my computer although I keep a lot on my phone and camera too. Friends show each other photos from their phones. The only thing I don't do any more is print them. I really should. But that's another project.

The Last Concert of The Season

The Organ At St Sulpice

Conferences, art exhibits, concerts, they're everywhere in Paris. It's exhausting. I choose carefully. If I try something new and it's a hit, I go again and again.

The organ concerts at St Sulpice are on this list and today is the last one until February. They don't follow the normal concert schedule during Lent and Advent.

This organ is in the back of the church. People turn the chairs around to "see" the organ, even if there's nothing to see. There is a smaller organ at the other end. I think they use this with the choir.

The large organ was inaugurated in 1862 and is classified as a "Monument Historique".

Today we will hear Pierre Arditi and Sophie-Veronique Caucher - Chopin.

Dressing in Layers

The weather here is really cold. It's dry, a little bit windy. It snowed on Friday afternoon but it was a wet snow and it didn't stay on the ground.

Like a little kid, I went out and jumped around, then took the long way home from Odile's apartment just so I could enjoy the snow.

To go out in this weather, I need to plan. Layers are required. I forget this every year until the first time I go out and the cold comes right through the cashmere sweater and lined wool coat. Dressing in layers is an art. Trying not to look like a snowman, it's best to have multiple thin but warm layers.

I start with a silk camisole. If it gets much colder, I'll have to switch to a long-sleeved silk undershirt. Then I add a sweater with some kind of high neckline. Then I add a cardigan, buttoned. Next a coat. Right now it's a full-length down coat. On top of this, a cashmere scarf and lined gloves.

All of this doesn't keep me completely warm, it just prevents hypothermia.

I guess if we were going from a heated apartment to a heated car to a heated restaurant, theatre or another apartment this wouldn't be necessary, but last night we walked to and from the metro and a long way to the restaurant.

Counting Down

This is last year's haul. I'm already starting to stress out. I have to go to about five stores, all in different parts of town to find my Thanksgiving necessities. I also have to get a few new things -- serving dishes, some napkins, maybe some new water glasses. I also saw some great china at a second hand shop and probably would have bought the lot right then except the shop had an "fermeture exceptionelle" at 2 in the afternoon on Friday. I haven't gone back because they are only open from 2 PM to 7 PM Tuesday through Friday. Philosophical question of the day: If they're closed during the few hours that they're supposed to be open, are they ever really open? I'm not taking any chances when I'm so busy.

Cranberries are unheard of in France. They have these tiny little bitter things that they think are cranberries but they're not. So, when I find them in the "Ocean Spray" familiar plastic package, I buy two packages, just to be sure I've got enough. Stuffing is for tomatoes. What's a sweet potato? Last year I served corn muffins and the french had such a hard time with them (they broke them into tiny pieces, tried to put the meat or gravy on it, etc) that this menu item has been replaced with a baguette this year.

The most interesting part of the traditional Thanksgiving meal is that it is basically served on one plate. In France, meals are comprised of many small courses, served on small plates. Last year, I had to go out and buy American sized plates for this meal. I had to measure my dishwasher because it is smaller and I wanted to make sure the plates fit. I have to warn the guests that this is the meal except for dessert so they can judge their portions properly.

I also had to measure my oven and the pan intended for the turkey. The turkey has to be able to fit in the pan and the pan has to fit in the oven. In the US, we never worry about this kind of thing.

Making pumpkin pie requires research. Last year, I wrote down my ingredients so that I didn't have to recreate the wheel this year. The flour, sugar and butter are different. I can find the pumpkin and the milk. The whipping cream is another story. I bought something called "fleurette" and when I whipped it, it grew exponentially. I had so much fleurette (whipped) that I had to put it in a plastic bag and throw it away. (We don't have garbage disposals in France either).

Wish me luck. The best part of the meal is that we can sip real French champagne, which, by the way, tastes great with turkey.

American Healthcare

The French don't understand why a rich country like the US isn't able or willing to provide affordable health care for it's citizens. I agree.

I was angry when the Obama health care proposal became so watered down before it was voted in. Now it seems that one of the first things that the newly elected Republicans will do is try to stop funding for this bill or repeal it all together.

What are the 40+ MILLION Americans without health care going to do? What are senior citizens who can't afford their medications going to do? What am I going to do?

My insurance costs have skyrocketed in recent years. I think the insurance companies were trying to get in "under the wire". But now with changes coming again, I'm afraid to change my plan. They could cancel me completely and I would be among those 40 million.

Now that I've seen how it works in France (called a "European Nanny State" in the newspaper a few days ago) I can't believe that the US isn't anxious to adopt something similar. It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing. Everyone can afford to go to the doctor if they're sick, they can afford the medicines they need. They can see a physical therapist for more than 10 visits for something as serious as a joint replacement.

It would require a change of attitude, that's all.