The Purple Velvet Armchair

An early morning flight last week necessitated a trip to Starbucks at LAX.  I'm not a big consumer of Starbucks. I probably only drink one or two cups per year. 

I was planning to buy the cup of coffee and return to the gate and wait for my flight.  I bought the coffee, looked around.  An oasis of purple velvet flooded my peripheral vision.  Three purple velvet chairs were in the corner.  One was vacant and called my name.  Yum.  To sit in/on velvet is a luxury. 

The chair was big; wide and tall.  Almost a loveseat.  As I wheeled my carry on suitcase over and sat down with an "ahhhh",  I noticed that the other two chairs were occupied by women about my age.  The purple velvet must appeal to our socio-economic group.  Or, maybe no one else is dumb enough to be at the airport that early.

I spent an hour in that chair, luxuriating in the comfort, security and calm that it provided.

Shopping At Goodwill

I had seven huge, heavy bags in my trunk.  A delivery to the Goodwill.

The closet clean out was a success and Goodwill received the proceeds. 

I packed the bags into my trunk this morning.  Packed is the right word, my trunk was overflowing.

There is a new Goodwill near our house.  I dropped by after the gym.  I didn't realize that the drop off point was around in the back so I walked into a Goodwill store.  There were no employees (is this the right word or are they volunteers?) available so I walked from the front to the back of the store.

The store was very tidy, well-lit, quite inviting.

I finally found a man who informed me that I had to drive to the back to drop off my bags.

On the way out the door, the racks of clothes called my name.  The clothes are organized by type (jackets, shirts, pants) and then sub-categorized by color.  So, all black jeans are together.  This is different from a normal store where you search the racks for your size.  Here you have to search by type, then color then hope to find your size. I guess it makes sense, but it's not as easy as a normal store.

I browsed several racks before the thought rocketed through my brain, "What are you doing?  You just cleaned out all your closets and drawers.  There are seven bags in the trunk of your car.  You don't need more stuff..."

The voice won.  I got in my car, delivered the bags and was on my way, empty-handed.

Hoarder or Purger?

I just launched a major clean-out effort.  Two closets were the source of my attention yesterday afternoon.

I feel much better.  I now have three large bags of clothes to take to the Goodwill.  I was nice enough to fold everything and put "like" items together.  I even put outfits together in the bag so that it would be easier to merchandise these items.  Suits, jeans, sweaters and dresses from a bygone era, mostly my life when I worked in an office.  I really had a lot of clothes back then.  Someone will get some nice things, which is great.

Next comes the dresser and closet drawers.  It will feel good to make room for new things.

I think that most people have a tendency to hoard or purge.  I am more of a hoarder, Terry is definitely a purger.  Some of the things in the bags that are earmarked for the Goodwill are probably 10 years old.  I have no use for them but I kept them in a remote closet, "just in case".  There are some old things in this closet that I take out once a year, these items are staying.  They include a red t-shirt with a discreet white heart that I wear on Valentine's Day and two fun Christmas sweaters.

Shamefully, I've found and discarded several things with the price tags still hanging from them.

As I went through the closet, I reminisced.  In addition to the "just in case" scenario, the memories evoked by certain things are too great.  I fear I'll lose that memory if I give the item away.  But, out they go!  Even a hoarder has to clean out and I see the necessity of it as well as the catharsis.

As you can imagine, I don't really understand purgers.  My husband has been known to throw things away prematurely.  Then, we have an all-out APB for the item and never find it.  He purges things one at a time, throwing them in the trash can.  It's not worth a trip to the Goodwill.  Luckily, our cleaning lady usually finds these things and I'm sure either her husband or son are enjoying them and giving them a second life.

Hoarder or purger?  While I want to reform, I doubt that it's possible.

Paparazzi

I'm from Los Angeles; I have lived here all my life (except the French interludes). 

Until today, I've never seen paparazzi in action.  I've seen them on the news, chasing someone famous.  I know that Princess Diana's car was being hounded by some very persistent paparazzi when her driver hit the wall in the tunnel in Paris. 

To be chased by paparazzi you have to be famous, new, hip.  I doubt that the paparazzi chase Regis Philbin around town, but you never know.

I was walking up the street this afternoon in Beverly Hills.  A bit early for an appointment, I was strolling, window-shopping, enjoying the warm, sunny day.  I first noticed that there were several guys standing on the sidewalk in front of me with very large lenses on cameras.  I shrugged it off at first, thinking they were over-equipped tourists.

In a whoosh, about five cars pulled up on the street, double-parked, people jumped out.  All of them had large, expensive-looking cameras with long lenses.  Then it dawned on me -- paparazzi!  Someone famous must be in the neighborhood.

Even though I was dressed and coiffed nicely, there was no mistake.  I was not the target.  I easily walked by all of them, the cameras remained at their owners' sides.  I kept walking even though I wanted to ask them who they were tracking.

I never found out who it was.  I went about my business and perhaps even passed the person without recognizing him or her.  I'm not very current on these things and often movie stars and personalities don't look quite as good as on the screen.

I did notice a couple of interesting things.  The paparazzi have spotters.  These are people in the street with nothing more than a phone.  They look innocent (no camera) so the star won't notice them as they walk by.  There were two of these spotters on the street.  They had obviously called their partners.  I also found out that if the star is in a building, they cover every entrance and exit, just to be sure they don't miss their target.  They don't seem to get parking tickets for double-parking on a busy street in the middle of the day in Beverly Hills.  Maybe they get a ticket once in awhile, but not today.   I guess the fine is just part of the cost of doing business.

I wonder how much money a paparazzi makes for a good photo?  It must be enough to keep them all running. 

An Earthquake Inspires New Vigilance

A 3.8 earthquake hit this morning about 3 AM.  It sounded like someone hit the house with a truck, it shook for a second and it was over.  I braced for another, bigger one, but that was the extent of our seismic activity for now. 

This is a small reminder to tie everything down.  My china and crystal have been used recently so I need to package it all back up securely because the next quake might not be so benign.

It's kind of a chore to have to keep everything packaged up in bubble wrap but it's good protection.  One small earthquake shook every one of our champagne glasses to the front of the cupboard and the next time we opened it, we had a rain of glass from above.  Hopefully we've learned our lesson. 

I also use this stuff called "Quake Hold" that is like museum putty, it keeps objects like vases and even pictures from moving during an earthquake.  The main danger during an earthquake is not that the item falls over it's that it goes to the edge of something (shelf, table, etc) and then falls to the ground and breaking.

Don't Share Your Music With Me...

Our nearest neighbor, Sean, has a keyboard and maybe a drum set in a room that is quite close to our house.  When all the windows are open in the Summer, we can hear him break into song at whim.  This happens day and night.  Luckily for us it doesn't last long.  Today, it's the blues.  Usually it's more rock 'n roll.  In either case, he sings off tune, turns up the base on the speakers and generally annoys me.

The equivalent to this in Paris is the child who is taking up the violin and practices those scratchy notes over and over again.  Or the opera lover who opens the windows early on Sunday morning to share the aria with the entire neighborhood. 

I don't like clutter and in my mind noise pollution is clutter that I can't recycle.  I want to be able to hear what I want to hear, when I want to hear it.  Aren't there headphones for this?

We've tried calling and emailing him and the noise stops for awhile and then, after a week or so, it comes back.  Does he think we forgot that we hate to hear him singing off key, "Love you in the morning, babe, love you every day, love you on the weekend..."  Not a compelling lyric or a true note in our enforced daily concerts.

Aller Simple, A Foreign Concept

Aller simple means a one-way ticket.

Quite a frightening concept for me.  It can mean many things, most literally travel.

It can also mean selling a house, quitting a job, giving something up.  It means you don't plan to go back.

Most things can be reversed or changed, most places can be revisited even if it's not the same the second time. 

Normally we buy our airline tickets aller retour, a round trip.  We're considering booking a one-way ticket for future travel.   It's gotten a bit complicated. 

The airlines haven't made it easy for us to travel in style.  We hoard our frequent flyer miles, trying every possible way to use them to our advantage.  The frequent flyer programs, like the health insurance companies change the ground rules all the time, always to our disadvantage.

The alternative is grim; a coach or premium coach seat for 11+ hours, sharing a bathroom with 50+ people who all want to use it at the same time, terrible food with small portions, tiny seats with enormous next-seat neighbors.

We thought we finally had enough miles to buy Business Class seats round trip.  Yeah!  Champagne and movies for 11 hours.   We'd maximized our miles using a credit card that added miles to our program in addition to the miles earned for travel.  We have one credit card in Euros and one in US Dollars.  We've worked it as hard as we can, we organize, negotiate, research, save.  

We negotiated between each other for weeks, juggling our obligations and interests to select the best travel dates.  We researched the internet to find the best flights so that when we called we wouldn't be pushed into an itinerary with stops in cities we don't want to ever visit.

I might add that even though Air France and Delta Airlines now share planes and code-share, they don't share frequent flyer programs and even though Delta uses Air France planes to go to Paris, they won't book flights as far in advance as Air France will for the same flight.   Unless you specify otherwise, if you fly to France on either Delta or Air France, they will try to award the miles on Delta.   If you call from France, you get Air France not Delta. If you call from the US, you can't speak with someone from Air France, only Delta.  How did they ever figure out this complicated and silly system?  I'm sure a lot of highly paid people spent a lot of time on this. 

We called Air France Flying Blue program.  A nice man informed us that we can't share our miles or gift them to each other so we only have enough miles for two one-way tickets, which he'd be happy to book.  We booked them but haven't bought them yet.  Our idea was that we could call Delta and use our Sky Miles for the other half of the ticket.  Au Contraire.  On Air France using Flying Blue miles, the cost of a one-way ticket is 50% of a round trip ticket.  Makes sense.

Delta's rules are completely different for the same flight, same seats, same plane. On Delta, a one-way ticket using miles is the same price as a round trip ticket.  If we had enough miles to fly round trip, we would have called them first. 

So, now we have a lot of miles that we can't use and a one-way ticket to France.  We'll get back to the US somehow.

On Line Shopping

I prefer to roam the stores, looking, feeling, touching, comparing.  

But my plantar fascitis has roared back, this time on my left foot, making it almost impossible to walk, let alone roam the stores.   I've been shopping on line this Summer, with great success.  My fingers have done the walking for me.

I just "hit" the Nordstrom sale.  I got a pair of boots and a pair of jeans.  Can't wait until it's cool enough to wear them.  I've also ordered from Talbot's and J. Jill recently.  I've been so successful that I had to go out and buy more hangers.  As soon as I can stand up for an extended period of time, I'll have to "weed" the closet and make room for all my loot.

I'm also looking at a great North Face down jacket which comes in black, navy and white.  The white isn't practical but it is beautiful. 

No Hablo Espagnol

My sister and I decided, independently of one another, to study Spanish this Summer.  She bought some  tapes, I bought some books, we've shared.

It's already gotten a bit competitive and she's in the lead.  She started speaking Spanish to me on the phone and I didn't understand and was frozen, zombie-like, unable to answer in Spanish.  Deja vu, franciais.   No comprendo Espagnol!

Today, I decided to apply myself to this long-term task.  Earphones and iPHONE in hand, I listened and repeated Spanish phrases for 45 minutes and some of it stuck.

The pronunciation is really hard for me.  I've had to compare the pronunciation with French in order to remember.  For example, in French, "pardon" is the same as Spanish, "pardon" (not sure of the Spanish spelling since it was on a tape).  In French, it's pronounced, "pahr-don".  In Spanish, it's "perrr-dohn".  I can't roll the r's either.  In order to remember the pronunciation, I have to compare it to the French.

There's a problem with this method.  Speed.  We're now learning and putting together short sentences.  Because I've been comparing the words to French, I have to translate the English into French (remembering the pronunciation) and then translate the French into Spanish.  I don't know why I'm doing it this way, I'll have to try to stop.

In a real-life situation, people don't ask me a question and count to 100 while I do a double-translation, check the pronunciation, smile and blather out some semi-coherent response. 

I thought learning another language would be fairly easy for me.  Au contraire!

I'm Glad I Did This In The U.S.

The Apple Store Genius Bar.

I made my appointment, I showed up on time.  The place was teeming.  I knew I had to check in, but where?  I found a guy and asked, he told me to go to the Genius Bar.  I went there, had to wait, a guy told me I had to check in with another guy who was in the center of the store.  I did.  He checked me in. 

There were about 15 people ahead of me.  Isn't that what an appointment is for?  Obviously not in Apple Land.  I waited and waited. People jostled me, there was nowhere to stand.  People kept crowding in at the Genius Bar, hoping they could get helped right away.

After waiting for about 15 minutes I checked back with the original check in guy who told me that I was late for my appointment, I'd have to wait! I wasn't late, even after circling the store to try to find the check in guy.

At the 20 minute mark, I was about to cry in frustration.  Finally my name came up.  The guy was nice, he helped me, he fixed my problem. 

I had considered buying an AppleCare insurance plan but after this, I think I'd rather take my chances.

As I was waiting, I wondered what it would be like to try to do this in France with the language barrier and cultural differences.  Would I have even understood that I got bounced from person to person without getting helped.  Certainly I would be jostled more, French people tend to crowd more.  They also cut in line if they can, but at this store, all the people were trying to cut in. 

It was a gorgeous, sunny afternoon.  Why are all these people in the Apple Store instead of 1. work 2.  the beach.  Even the dentist is better/easier than this. 

Health Food Stores

I just got back from Whole Foods.  "My" WF is gigantic, maybe 200,000 square feet.  It has an olive bar, a mozzarella bar (fresh), lots of regional, vegan and ethnic choices.  It has fresh soup, two different kinds of pre-cooked chicken, bins of grain, nuts, cereal.

Every time I go to this store, I end up buying less than I expected, I get a bit stalled by the sheer size and quantity of goods.  I just needed a few things.  They also have lots of vitamins, a machine that makes butter out of a variety of nuts, fresh meat and fish, lots of gluten-free selections.

I don't really like this store, but it's the only place around to get some of the things I eat.

Naturalia in Paris resembles health food stores in the US circa 1980.  The first thing you notice is the health food store smell.  What is that?  A combination of spilled health foods, I guess. 

Naturalia is so small (maybe 1500 square feet) that two people can barely pass in an aisle.  Lots of the really good stuff is on the bottom shelf so people are hunkered on their knees or crouching, looking for their products.   It has the basics, even some health food wine (maybe made with organic grapes?). 

Consistent with Whole Foods, I never buy as much as I expect.  Either they don't have it (even if they had it last week), or I can't find it and no one is available to help me. 

They have a few bulk products, like WF but no convenience, pre-cooked stuff.  You buy it, you take it home, you cook it. 

They are both more expensive than regular stores, which is to be expected. 

Computer Problems, Genius Bar, Here I Come...

I have a computer that is less than one year old.  It started having problems about a month ago.  The fan started running and it started to heat up (a lot).  I realized it was the battery, it's under warranty, I didn't worry about it, I just plugged it in.

Today, I tried to plug something into the USB drive and it was dead, too. I have two and I think I use the same one, probably never tried the second one before today.

I called Apple and spent 50 minutes on the phone with a guy who finally determined that I need to take it to the Apple Store.  I think this could have been determined in about 5 seconds, since it needs a new battery and it's under warranty.  Oh well.  He said that they can't look at the USB port until they fix the battery.

Tomorrow you know where I'll be -- at the Genius Bar.  Ready or not.  Genius Bar is  the (adjective omitted) name for the Apple repair at the Apple Store.  In the past when I've gone to the Apple Store, I've noticed that the employees really think they are geniuses and let you know that you're inferior. I detest this attitude, especially since they are basically working in a store.  But, they hold the power in this situation. I can't get my computer fixed without getting an appointment (they won't see you without an appointment), showing up at the designated time, computer in hand, self-esteem in check.  

I will try to put up with their attitude, but as you can probably tell, I have an attitude, too.  My attitude doesn't respect the Geniuses standing around in the store in their "hip", computer-person looking clothes, glasses and hair styles.  Hopefully they can help because the next step is to mail (yes) the computer to Apple, which could take a long time.

I've had many Macs.  I bought one of the first ones, in 1984.  It was terrific.  Besides an occasional battery problem, I've never had a problem with a computer like this before.  I dropped my previous laptop while going through security at LAX.  After that, the case was bent and it wouldn't close properly but it still works.  It is not modern, but it works.   I don't know if this new one is a lemon or if they aren't making them like they used to.  We'll see.  The Apple rep on the phone tried to sell me a $249 Apple Care extended warranty in case it breaks again.  Hmmm.  That means I'd have to go back to the Genius Bar again. 

Normandy

 

The weather was glorious in Normandy.

 I only took my iPHONE, thinking that any photos I would take would be of us doing an activity.   Silly mistake, although I prefer to experience the environment without looking through a lens, it is also nice to have a few memories.  

These were all taken in Honfleur, a beautiful setting. 

The Bulles Come Down

All the tennis courts are covered with big (building size) bubbles from October 15 to April 15th, allowing everyone to play tennis all year.

We didn't have much rain until, you guessed it, April 15.  So, the uncovering of the courts progressed slowly this year.

In the foreground are courts 4, 5 and 6.  They are covered by one big bulle (balloon).  That came down first.  Then a single court, court 3 was opened to the sky.

In the background, behind all the players are courts 7 and 8, the last to come down.  On a very, very windy day last week, here is how it went.  The bulle deflated, it inflated, it moved, as if organically.  Man vs. nature vs a very big piece of plastic.  The men finally won, but I'm sure it wasn't a fun day for them.

Spring Cleaning

Every ten years, all buildings in Paris have to be cleaned on the outside.   That's why, even if the buildings aren't perfectly clean, they're much cleaner than buildings in Italy that are often almost black on the surface.  You see all kinds of cleaning, but most often the scaffolding goes up, the shutters come down and in a few months the building looks great again.

Until recently, I'd never seen statues being cleaned, but there's a rash of them right now.  Often they are done in place.  One is being done under a cover, I think they have been sandblasting it on the inside of this tent.  Someone that's involved with these projects puts a sign out explaining what's going on. 

Some statues really need to be cleaned.  This one is so mossy it almost blends in to the scenery.

 All in all, the statues are well-maintained, and grace the gardens of Paris with beautiful artwork and reminders of famous people and mythological creatures.  The Statue of Liberty is gone.  Don't know if it will be returned. 

When I Was Young

We were in the middle of the "Cold War".  We had drills in school in case the Russians pressed the "red button" and sent a nuclear bomb into our playground. In the drill, there was a loud, whining siren which was our cue to get under our desks and put our hands behind our necks to protect our heads.  I closed my eyes, just to be sure.  I was scared of the threat, even though I didn't really understand it.

As kids, we were told that the Communists were going to get us, nuke us, take over the world one country at a time.  I believed it. 

When I was a little bit older and looking at various universities, my parents were firmly against my sister and I going to UCLA because Angela Davis was a professor there and she was a "Communist".  By this time, I knew what a Communist was.  I wasn't really sure why that was so bad, but I didn't go to UCLA. 

The Berlin wall has been torn down, but we have new threats to our safety and security.  They now fly airplanes into tall buildings.   They don't need a "red button".

Even though the threat has changed, somehow the idea of a Socialist as the President of France still doesn't make me feel good.  At all.

He's only a Socialist, not a Communist!

The French see it differently.  They are used to the government playing a big, helpful role in their lives.  Even with a more conservative government for the last 20 years, French people have had a generous set of benefits including health care, 35 hour work week with 5+ weeks of paid vacation, a monthly allowance for each child, free education through university, it goes on and on.  I'm at the stage in my life where I could use a little bit of help from the government, from time to time, but of course we aren't qualified to get it in France and it doesn't exist in the US.

So, we'll wait and see how it goes.  Often the situation is dictated by reality.  Can the French pay for the benefits without increasing taxes?   Can they balance their budget without austerity measures.  Do we all need to get under our desks and put our hands behind our necks?  That is, after we send our money to Switzerland for safekeeping. 

Désinsectiser

Every year, a sign is posted outside our elevator telling us that our building, and all the apartments in it will be "debugged" today, April 30 in the afternoon.

The first year this happened, we didn't know what to expect.  We didn't have any bugs (that we knew of).  But, we didn't really know how to refuse when the man with the canister and the guardienne came to our door.

We let them in and the man sprayed a small amount of stuff under the sink in the kitchen and the sink in the WC.  We told them we didn't have any more sinks, a lie, of course.  The little marks are still on the wall from this event and it happened five years ago.

In principal, I am against insecticides.  They kill the bugs but poison us at the same time.  We die from something other than having a bug in our cereal, we die from the result of the poison, just like the bugs.

To avoid the bug guy, we use a number of schemes.  The easiest is to not answer the door.  Our guardienne doesn't have a key to our place, so they eventually tire of trying and leave.

But today, we were coming home just as the guy was coming down the stairs in our building.  He didn't recognize me, so he knew he hadn't "hit" our place yet.  He asked me where I lived.  Ah ha!  For once, English is quite handy.  I just looked him right in the eye and told him that I'm American and I don't know what he was saying to me.  He pulled out about five English words, not in a sentence, so I didn't answer.  Then, he asked, in French if I lived on the fourth floor!  I won't be fooled, I just looked at him and told him (English) that I didn't understand.  So, I jumped in the elevator, pushed our floor, but to cover up our floor (he seemed pretty persistent), I hit floor #6 so that after I got off, the elevator continued on up to the top floor.

So far he hasn't knocked but we're keeping a low profile.  I guess just like everything, if the rest of the apartments are debugged, the bugs will be dead and won't come our way either.  Or, perhaps all the bugs will parade into our place because the rest of the apartments have been poisoned.  We'll take our chances.

With A Holiday Coming...

April and May have a lot of holidays in France.  How much a holiday messes with my life depends on the holiday itself and the day of the week that it falls on.

We've just suffered through two weeks of "vacances scolaires" in the Paris region.  These are school holidays which happen for two weeks, three times a year, not including the Summer.  The result of these holidays is that there aren't a bunch of teenagers smoking and talking, hanging out in the street in front of all the schools.  Many French people, even if they don't have school-age children, leave Paris during this time.

Now for the real holidays.  We also just had Easter (Sunday so that's easy, most things are closed anyway) and Easter Monday (less and less people get this holiday).

Next Tuesday is May 1 -- a biggie.  It's Labor Day.  I notice that most museums in Paris are closed, I bet the grocery stores and restaurants are closed, so I better prepare for this day.  I can use the day to do some clean out.   We have now marked 10 years of life in Paris.  At the beginning of our life here, I was terrified to be without American products.  So, I imported almost everything -- even things I "might" need.  So, these things are now 10 years old and have to go.  I have a box of medicines in this category; never-used Pepto-Bismol, Ny-Quill, Tylenol.  Vitamins that are past their prime.  It's not that we don't get sick, it's that we can find what we need here without a problem.  The one thing we can't replicate is Excedrin.  It doesn't exist here so we buy and bring a huge jar for Terry every time we come. 

The following Tuesday is May 8 -- don't remember what it is, but I think that there will be less disruption.  Then the following Thursday is also a holiday, again no real idea what it is.

Since all these holidays are on weekdays, French people try to extend the weekend by taking the "pont" or bridge.  For the Tuesday and Thursday holidays a four-day weekend can be realized by taking only one day off.  I'd do it too.

I'm always glad when this holiday period is over.  June is pretty calm and then everyone leaves again for the Summer.

A Day In The Country

We are city folk.

I freak out if a pigeon tries to make a nest in my window box.

While we love everything that a big city like Paris has to offer -- a fabulous public transportation system,  a huge choice of museums, stores, movies, concerts  and restaurants to visit, we crave green space.  I walk/jog in the Luxembourg Gardens most days.  It is pleasurable to see the trees, the flowers and to watch them change every day.   On "off" days, I'm at the tennis club.  Even though it's right next to the "Peripherique" there are trees, flowers and plants around the courts; even a grapevine that produces grapes every Fall.

When we were invited to our friend's house outside of Paris  for lunch, we jumped at the chance.  What could be better?  We hopped on the metro which took us to the Gare de Lyon and off we headed, south of Paris.  The countryside that whizzed by was green, it's Spring.

We arrived at our destination station and easily walked to our hostess'  house through a charming little village.   It was noon and it looked like nothing had opened yet.  Of course, if I lived there all the time, it would be hard to get things done, but it's also charming and harkens back to another, earlier epoch when things were all got done but not at light speed.

The town is on the Loing river, which crosses the Seine at some point.  It has been raining so the river was beautiful. There were swans and lots of ducks in the water, all oblivious to us.  There is a chateau and a church that date from the 12th century in the town.

It seems that no one notices.  There was a wedding going on in the church.  The chateau was open.  There were no tourists, only us.  All these things will be around for another 1000 years, there's no rush.

On Va Gagner

On the metro this morning, we encountered a large group of young people (20's), heading toward the Sarkosy event (demonstration) that is planned for today at 2 PM.  They were all nicely dressed, no obvious piercings, no dreadlocks, no BO (of course, it's really cold outside).  They were having a good time, getting ready to support their candidate. They were chanting, "On va gagner"  (We are going to win...). 

I got the feeling that I was in a young Republicans club meeting.   Some of them were wearing a t-shirt that read, "Jeune Français AVEC Sarkosy".  OK, we get it.  They also had plastic panchos in red, blue and white in case it rains.

Not to be cynical, but I wonder if they're all going to this thing today to meet other young people with similar conservative interests or to support their candidate. 

Evidently and predictably, the demonstration for Francois Hollande, scheduled for the same time at the Chateau de Vincennes, will draw 2-3 times as many supporters, many of them young.  He is scheduled to have a picnic area, bands, etc., kind of a small, French, political Woodstock.  Weird, but in action and appearance, Hollande seems more conservative than Sarkosy. 

Just like in the US, the party to the left of center tends to attract the most young people.  They're idealistic, full of ideas, poor.  Will they vote next Sunday?  To be determined.

The French are at a crossroad.  Things aren't good.  Who will win?  Who knows, but it's interesting that some of the young people are in favor of the conservative candidate, of keeping things the same. 

On va voir.  We'll see.

Shopping for Dogs

No, I don't have the go-ahead to get a dog. I wish...

But, I believe in being prepared.  If Terry ever says "yes", I want to be ready to get a little brown-eyed companion very quickly.

So, to this goal, I spend my time when walking and jogging in the Luxembourg Gardens checking out all the dogs.  Dog shopping.  They are all cute and I'd take any of them.  The short list is:

Pug
Bulldog (the french don't say French Bulldog, that's redundant)
Cairn Terrier
Westie
Schnauser (grey, small)
Wire fox terrier
Wire hair daschund

I'm adding to the list of names everyday too.

Timothy To The Rescue

We are hopeless when it comes to household stuff.  Anything more than a spider that needs shooing out and we consider calling the fire department (in France, Pompiers).  A handyman is essential.  A discreet handyman is even more essential because they see some silly and embarrassing things in our household.

Yesterday was no exception.  Terry bought a new office chair.  It is beautiful; black leather with beige leather piping.  It swivels, rolls, tips and turns.  It has lumbar support and a head rest.  He was very excited when he bought it.

The chair was delivered yesterday when I was at a meeting.  When I got home, I noticed that the new office chair was in the middle of our bedroom rather than in his office.  I moved it into the living room as a hint that I don't want an office chair in the bedroom.

"Why is the office chair in the bedroom",  I asked.  "It's a long story".    "Well, can we put it in the office soon", I asked.  "No".

The problem with the office chair is that it is too big to fit through the doorway.  While I was still gone, Terry tried to take the arms off but failed.  He was waiting for me to see if we could lift it sideways and get it into the room.  It was late so we decided to wait until the next day.

In the AM, the office chair greeted me as I went out to get the newspaper.  As soon as we'd had some coffee, we decided it was time.  We pushed and pulled and finally got the seat and back of the chair through the doorway but the legs would not make it.  The chair was now stuck in the doorway, half in, half out.  The wall was scraped, my knuckles were scraped, my shin was bruised.  Unhappy, we figured out how to get it out and back into the living room it went.

A million things went through our minds. How to solve this?  Call Timothy, of course.

Timothy is our Sri Lankan handyman.  He's helped us with everything -- hung drapes, fixed windows, put together shelves, you name it.  Terry called him and he came at 3 today.

He came in, spoke to his associate in whatever language is spoken in Sri Lanka and they took the legs off, put the chair in the office, put the legs back on and were gone.  Cash only, no problem.  Timothy always comes to the rescue for us.

In Search of Caille

Something I learned quickly when buying quail, the term, "sans tete".  These pictures are from our  first quail dinner in Paris. I bought these beautiful birds, brought them home to find that they still had their heads attached.  As I prefer not to look my dinner in the eyes (guilt), I cut their heads off easily with a serrated bread knife. 


We will be having quail for Easter dinner this year.  We don't eat much red meat these days and quail is easy, nutritious, Spring-like. 

  Today, I started out early to do my grocery shopping and to find the perfect quail for tomorrow's meal.  I wanted to get finished with all my shopping before it got too crowded.  I went to Monoprix, where I've found nice quail before.  None at the butcher, none in the already packaged section. I finished my shopping, remembering that Picard, the frozen food heaven is right around the corner.  In I went and found quail stuffed with foie gras.  Not exactly what I had in mind, even though it sounds fabulous.  I finished my shopping, went home with the load from Monoprix, continued on to my local G20 for the basics. 

By this time, it's already 1:15 PM.  Monoprix is a good 20 minute walk each way and I spend a lot of time there, looking and enjoying the big store.  I still need quail.

My butcher is closed at noon time, I know for sure.  So, I do some other chores around the house and head out again at 2 PM to get the quail at the butcher.  The butcher is in the exact opposite direction of the other stores, and it is a 10 + minute walk.  I arrive and find a sign that says they re-open at 2:30.  The sign is a clock and I can't tell if it says 2:30 or 3:30, I hope it's 2:30.  So, I decide to walk around the lovely streets of this neighborhood.  Most of the stores are closed and I don't feel like sitting with a cup of coffee or tea, I'm still running the morning errands.  Window shopping, I spy a great pair of shoes at a reasonable price.  But, the sign on this shop says it doesn't re-open until 3.  I'm possessed!  I need quail and now I need/want the shoes. 

At 2:30, I go back to the butcher. All the shades are still drawn, the place is dark inside. I peer through a crack between the window and the shade, I can see the quail.  No one comes, the place stays dark and after about 10 minutes, I realize they won't open until 3:30. 

My aching legs walk back home and Terry and I go on yet another errand.  We successfully buy movie tickets and check out a new area of town.  Then back on the bus, stopping at the wine shop that doesn't have the champagne we want.  By this time (4 PM), the butcher is open.  We buy the quail, happily walk down the street.  I try on the shoes, they're great, they're mine.

The quail are waiting for tomorrow.  The shoes will have to wait until it stops raining, they're suede. 

Sophie, The Giraffe

This is Sophie The Giraffe.  It seems that every French baby has one of these.  I'll be heading out to buy two very soon, for our two new American babies.  Hope they like them as much as the French babies do.

My sister wrote to me that the company makes 800,000 of these a year.  There are about 785,000 French babies per year, so the rest go to lucky "foreign" babies. 

A few people have asked me if the paint is safe for a baby to chew and suck on.  I have no idea, but this toy has been around for 50 years. I see a few "Sophies" around with no spots left, oh well. 

You can get this at Amazon, in case you were wondering.

Can't Speak English, Can't Speak French

My sister called me the other day on my cell phone.

We live near a very steep hill and cell phone reception is spotty. So, I told her I'd call her right back using my home phone because my cell phone is "fragile".

I called her back immediately and she was still laughing. "Fragile", isn't that a french usage? Hmmm, I thought, I guess she's right. I should have used a term like "unreliable". I'm not sure "fragile" would have been right in French, either. Maybe a better term would have been "faible", meaning weak.

Weak, now there's a term that defines my language skills. "Fragile" in English, "Faible" in French.

People that are truly bi-lingual don't have these problems. The word just comes out in the correct language, right verb tense, using the proper adverbs and adjectives. They don't even have to think about it.

Now, I feel like I'm losing "it" in English. I have a Kindle and I have to use the dictionary all the time to look up words in English. Here's one that neither Terry no I knew the spelling of this morning. It was in an article in the LA Times. We both thought that they'd made a spelling mistake, but we were wrong and the paper (big surprise) was correct.

archetypal |ˌärk(i)ˈtīpəl|
adjective
very typical of a certain kind of person or thing : the archetypal country doctor.
• recurrent as a symbol or motif in literature, art, or mythology : an archetypal journey representing the quest for identity.
• of, relating to, or denoting an original that has been imitated : the archetypal believer, Abraham.
• relating to or denoting Jungian archetypes.

At least we knew the meaning of the word and could use it in a sentence.

Order is Restored

I love technical things and I embrace/buy/use as many of them as I can justify.

I waited and waited for the iPHONE 5 to come out, nursing my 3+ year-old original iPHONE 3. It was on the way out for months but held on. Of course, I had to get the iPHONE 4S. I got it, I love it, I rely on it.

So, today as I was racing out the door for an appointment, I looked down at my new phone and the screen was dark except for a weird half circle in the center of the screen.

No biggie. I threw the phone in my purse, figuring that by the time the appointment was over the phone would have recovered from whatever trauma it had sustained.

Later in the afternoon, I took the phone out and the same screen was on. But, the phone was very hot. Maybe it was working overtime to try to restore harmony.

Trying not to panic, I worried that I would be phone-less, maybe for days! After a bad experience with two Amazon Kindle Fire devices, I could see the same hellish round of phone customer service tag that I'd just unsuccessfully gone through.

I found the Apple Support page on the computer but my iTUNES password was not working. So, I had to stop everything and re-set it (and try to remember it). I got through and the next screen told me that I could book a time for a phone call with an Apple tech. OK, time choices arrived. I could have an immediate phone call, which is not fast enough but I accepted it. A guy called. He cracked a couple of dumb jokes, I tapped my foot (he couldn't see it). But, in about four steps, he got the phone going again.

Order is restored.

Modern Art Hidden in Ancient Places

France's archaeological past can be seen everywhere you look. It's almost impossible to miss the crypts, Roman ruins, thousand year-old stone walls.



These treasures are stored outside St. Chapelle in Paris. No idea why they have X's on them.

Modern art is around too, but not all of it is attractive. The best part is that the modern is juxtaposed with the ancient, making our brains work a little harder to understand and appreciate it all.


My friend, Christine, found this chapel in a beautiful hidden church on rue de Sevres. The church was renovated in 2007. Everything but this chapel is ancient.



We found this modern chapel in Rouen, it is the church dedicated to Joan of Arc. It was build in 1979. It is light, angular, modern.



The iron branch holds the traditional church candles. It is beautiful.

Chloe's Birthday

"Playing with new toys is just exhausting...", says the birthday girl.

Smog

That layer of brown between the blue sky and the blue water is smog.

When the wind blows from east to west the smog from LA blows out to sea. Normally it sits at the base of the mountains, far away from us.

Awfully Quiet Around Here...

The holiday doesn't start until tomorrow, according to my calendar.

I think the "official" day off for people is the 26th, Monday this year since Christmas falls on a Sunday.

Out and about this morning, I was impressed by an unusual sound -- nothing. It's quiet outside. Not many cars, not many kids playing on the playground. A couple of dogs barking. I could get used to this -- quickly.

It won't last. Maybe we'll have some peace until January 3rd. I think January 2nd is the "day off".

I went about my usual business today. The holiday starts tomorrow.

A New Coffee Activity

Coffee is one of my first thoughts every morning. If I'm an addict, at least it's legal and available everywhere in the world.

I have (had) a great coffee maker. It ground the beans and then brewed the coffee so it is (was) always fresh. In the middle of the night last night, Terry heard a weird noise and when he investigated it turned out to be the coffee pot. He unplugged it and forgot about it.

When I got up and tried the grind cycle, nothing happened. It made a weak noise, attempting to grind the beans but nothing happened. I cleaned it out, tried again. Re-set the machine's functions, tried again, the same. So, we had Nespresso.

I thought I had a spare coffee maker in the garage. I dusted it off, washed it, set it up, set it's clock and tried to make a test pot. The "on" button wouldn't work. The "off" button wouldn't work. It's gone, too.

Shopping was on the agenda anyway, it's a week before Christmas. So, this afternoon, I entered the world of the french press. I've wanted one forever but had a hard time justifying one with a coffee maker and a Nespresso machine (in both places). I bought a 12-cup model (shown above). Twelve cups of french press coffee equal about 36 oz total, or maybe two Starbuck's medium cups (I think it's called Venti but I'm not well-versed in Starbucks lingo). But, it's the biggest model they make.

I saved the brushed stainless thermos carafe from the old coffee pot, perfect to keep french press coffee nice and warm. I'm set.

I dashed home, tore open the packaging to my new french press. I'm not one to read and follow directions. Even when I get something complicated like a computer, I unwrap it, plug it in and play with it until I get stuck before reading anything. Reading is for the details, not macro usage instructions.

But, looking at this thing, I was a bit stumped. How does it work? How do you keep coffee grinds from getting (ick) in the coffee? I had to read the directions. Twice. They still didn't make complete sense, so I decided a late-afternoon pick-me-up was in order. I followed the directions to the letter. Tested, tasted the result. Fabulous.

I'll never go back. It's all set up for tomorrow's first real test.

Updating The Address Book

Sending and receiving Christmas cards is a wonderful way to keep in touch with friends and family. The mailman brings pictures, cards, letters every day now. He's almost like Santa.

The Christmas card process has taken on a new dimension this year.

I went and bought cards a week ago. That was the easy part. I made the list of people, OK. I started writing the envelopes. I always do the envelopes, put the stamps on and then get down to the business of writing notes. OK.

For years I've used Palm application on my computer. I have hundreds of names, addresses and phone numbers.

Since I've had an iPHONE, I've slipped up a little bit, now I use the phone to keep the phone numbers, addresses, door codes, etc. So, I have addresses in two places; two different lists. Additionally, I have many friends that I don't even have their address.

Embarrassingly, I've had to call and email quite a few people to get their correct address. Now, that I've finished writing out the cards, I can settle into the new job of editing both lists to make them complete. This job should be done to my satisfaction by the time next year's cards need to be addressed (I hope).

I Picked This For the Label

And the price (under 5 Euro). I wasn't disappointed, but my methods are suspicious.

My Address Book

I am trying to write and mail Christmas cards this week. It used to be pretty easy, I just opened my Palm address book and everyone was in there.

I switched to an iPHONE a few (maybe 3) years ago. My contacts are usually a phone number and an email address. If the people live in Paris, there might be a door code in there somewhere.

So, I've had to email a bunch of people to get their addresses. Sorry, everyone, I'll put them in my Contacts for sure. If I don't hear back from you, you'll be getting an e-card, so I do have options.

Two Sunsets In One Day

Flying from east to west awhile ago, we took off in the light, the sky turned orange and red, sunset. Many hours spent in the dark. Probably over Greenland. Long day and night.

We left the window shades open, it was dark. Eventually it started to get light again. Brilliant daylight for awhile, now my internal clock is really messed up.

We land in the light and grab a cab. As we head due west on Imperial Highway, the sky was, once again, red/orange/yellow. Second sunset in a very long day.

Overwhelmed by the Antiquities at the Louvre

I pointed my iPHONE out the window.

She's Just The Messenger...

With a washer/dryer combo (one machine) that holds a maximum of 2.5 kg, I allow myself the small luxury of having my sheets done at a real french laundry. They come back starchy, stiff and really white. They are a pleasure to slip into.

The closest laundry that is reliable (this is a relative term) is about a ten minute walk. It's a very pleasant walk in a shopping area. I have to bring a bag to carry them back in, they come covered but they are heavy.

The sheets that I took in on Monday were supposed to be done by Friday morning. The woman promised. I didn't have time to get them on Friday, so I went this afternoon (Saturday). I made a special trip and it is quite cold outside. It was getting dark as I got there. There were three people ahead of me and each one had special instructions, questions, comments. I waited about 10-15 minutes before I presented the woman with my ticket.

She disappeared into the back of the store, behind shelves filled with other peoples' sheets, blankets and bedspreads. She was gone a long time, which never bodes well.

Back she came, empty-handed. I should add that this is pretty common, it happens about half the time. While I'm not in a panic to get them, I made a special trip on a dark and cold Saturday afternoon.

She opened a dog-eared spiral-bound notebook and told me that they will be back on Monday. OK. But, they were supposed to be back on Friday morning and it's Saturday afternoon, I said.

Her reply (with a smile on her face and no malice) was that she doesn't do the sheets, she only works in the store. She's only the messenger of the bad news about the sheets.

Photo Opp

What does it take to get a photo for the french "carte de sejour"?

Normally it is very easy, much easier than in the US. There are Photomation booths in many metro stops that take photos that can be used for passports, school photos, ID cards (museums, etc). You enter the booth, sit on the stool and smile. In 30 seconds the sheet of photos pops out.

Today, we needed photos and we found a booth at the metro stop at Hotel de Ville.

I sat on the little stool, pushed my Euro 5 note into the machine and smiled. Out rolled the euro note, rejected. I took it, smoothed it out and tried again. Out. I smoothed some more and tried putting it in the other way. Out.

I asked Terry if he could try to get change for a 20 Euro note at the kiosk where they sell metro tickets. No dice. He then tried all the little stores that are underground near the photo booth, negative. We resorted to buying a metro ticket to get the change but the woman wouldn't give us the necessary change and yelled at us, basically for being pests.

We need the photos. So, off we went on the metro; Line 1 to Concorde, change to the 12 to rue de Bac where our bank is located. We had to stand in line, inside the bank, but we got Euro 20 worth of one and two euro coins. Photos, here we come!

Except, there is no Photomation kiosk at rue de Bac. I wracked my brain, where had I seen one? Pasteur! Back on the metro Line 12. Off at Pasteur where we found the booth.

In go the coins, out comes the pictures. It only took 1-1/2 hours from start to finish.

Addendum to this post: When I went to get the Carte de Sejour, the "fonctionnaire" rejected my photos. In one set (yes, I tried it twice), I was smiling too much and in the other set, the top of my head was slightly chopped off. So she made me go (3rd time, now) to the Photomation booth outside the office. A man was working on it and it was out of service. I dash around inside the prefecture de police and finally find another booth. I fix the stool, don't smile, check that I can see the top of my head and get the photos. The foncitonnaire exclaimed that I looked too serious, but she accepted them. Euro 15 for photos.

Dangerously Close

The mystery is solved but the problem still exists.

I kept finding my plants broken and I couldn't figure out what happened. We're up high enough that no one climbed up and tried to break in the window. Birds don't normally break plants this way.

One morning, I heard a big bang at this window and looked outside. Hanging by a rope, there was a large bucket filled with stuff -- plaster, pipes, junk. I watched for awhile and down came this door. There are workmen on a floor above us and their ingenious way of easily moving things in and out of the apartment is with a pulley system and a rope.

They don't have to go up and down stairs all day, but my plants are getting smashed all the time.

The Knife Man

He's hard to see, I took this picture from the window. But, this is the "knife man".

To me, he represents what I like about being in France, that some things never seem to change.

I can hear him before I see him. He always comes early in the morning. with a very loud bell attached to his cart, he makes his way down the street, ringing about 10 times and then stopping, looking up, to see if anyone needs his services. If no one motions from a window, he picks the string for the bell up again, and gives it a few more rings as he makes his way down the street.

He takes his time, probably most of his customers are elderly and it's hard to get downstairs carrying a bunch of knives to be sharpened.

I could hear him on our block for more than an hour, I'm sure he did well.

Andy Rooney In Paris

I just found out that Andy Rooney died.

My fondest memory of him is from Paris. We were sitting in a cafe on rue de Seine when he passed right by our table. No one recognized him.

The funniest part was that he was walking with his wife. They weren't walking side-by-side, he was about five strikes in front of her.

Is It A Leaf, Or...

We've had some rain in the last few days. And, it's fall so there are a lot of beautiful brown, red, and yellow leaves on the ground.

This is a recipe for disaster in Paris.

When it rains, people are less likely to pick up after their dog. I don't know why but the evidence is everywhere since it rained all day yesterday.

Unfortunately, it is hard to tell the difference between a "crotte" (dog poop) and leaves on the ground. Sometimes the leaves are covering or partially covering the little surprises on the sidewalk.

I danced my way down the street this morning, barely missing several spots. Mother Nature's perfect disguise -- leaves.

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.