Last in the trilogy of bold and daring moves

After the tattooing and waxing – what is left? Cutting off the hair of course. My hair guy Jason and I reached an agreement. To taunt and play havoc with this rather awful last day of May I let him have a field day with the scissors.

The buck stops here. I’m NOT into body piercing.

…life was such an easy game to play

Yesterday, my breakfast was at this favorite spot. The blackboard sign says that full meals are served there as well. I remember having eaten a yummy salad of French green beans there not too long ago. But the morning croissants are equally exquisite. Sitting, sipping, watching people (it’s mostly men in the early morning hours) come in and exchange a few words – the world seemed a hospitable place.

the best moment of the entire day 

a good beginning to a day 

Today, my breakfast looked like this, and it was on a counter littered with unpaid bills and misc. papers. There were no cool men or women to watch or listen to.

healthy and terribly boring 

If returns are always unpleasant, let me tell you that mine ranks up there in the unpleasant domain. It may get a prize. At least third place finish in terms of yukyness. Not to complain, but:

1. I missed the bus from Chicago to Madison by minutes and was therefore forced to wait for hours until the next one.
2. I nursed my sorrows at the Hilton bar.
3. My suitcases and bags were heavy, but they had to be lugged (in Madison) over to the parking lot at the Business School, where my car was parked.
4. The Business School was locked up for the holiday and so I had to walk, suitcases and all, down the serpentine driveway, all the way down down down to the car.
5. The car would not start. Dead. Completely.
6. The wonderful custodial staff offered to jump start it for me.
7. It did not work. The car is more than dead. It is negative dead.
8. The wonderful custodial staff offered to give me a ride home.
9. I wanted to log on last night, but I had lost my link card in one of those frantic searches for computer hook up in Europe.
10. So instead I used the phone to conduct unpleasant business.
11. There was no pleasant offset.
12. I fell asleep sometime when I think in Europe people were already on their lunch hour.

As a post script, I have to say the following:
1. The day is sunny. Things look saner under a bright blue sky.
2. I found an extra link card at home for my computer and so I am back on line.
3. Being on line allowed me to discover some pretty special notes from people who had been tracking my travels. Given the above twelve points, I’d say they could not have come at a better time. So thank you. I promise to make this needy stretch as short as possible.
4. The irises are blooming in the back yard. I may hereafter forever hate irises, but they are blooming, and they are pretty.

this morning 

(From Paris): A tale of a meal

When you need to wrap it all up and stuff it inside, when you cannot walk another mile or look into the window of another shop, when the rain starts its Parisian thing again – I say head for a good meal.

I don’t think about where to eat in Paris. If I am here only for a day or two, I check the menu of an old standby and if it looks good (as it always does) then I go there. This isn’t the time to step outside the box – it’s a time to snuggle into a familiar setting and enjoy the parade of pleasurable sights and tastes.

So, I’m ending my Europe posts with a parade of pleasurable sights and tastes of my last evening on this side of the ocean.

Early in the evening, I considered grabbing a snack. Street food tempts.

baguette avec jambon 

Instead, I settled for a Victor Hugo aperitif, if only for the funky color, along with some serious people watching.

Victor Hugo: champagne, pear and creme de curacao 

Much later, when the skies turned dark from both the evening light and the puffed up rain clouds, I go over to the place where Madame was holding a table for me. I’d been there just two weeks ago, but today the menu offered a three week special: a love affair with the lobster. Irresistible.

Next to me, two women were doing a perfect rendition of multi-tasking: savoring the food, the wine, speaking in animated tones and puffing away at their cigarettes. I do not want to exalt smoking of course, but I so completely associate restaurants with smoking in France that I will feel a layer of sensations will be erased the day the last stub is crushed into an ash tray and France becomes smoke free.

at the table next to me... 

My first course: a lobster custard, with a frothy broth.

royale extreme de homard 

Second on the fixed lineup is a beautiful arrangement of lobster, pickled mushrooms and a parsley salad. Along with it come a cedar jelly and scoops of a moussey, buttery lobster spread for the bread that I use generously with every dish.

pinces de homard aux beurres de chitine, gelee de cedar 

The women have left, and now I get to listen to the conversation of this man. He has the most gorgeous blue silk jacket – I cannot take my eyes off of it. He is there with a younger man – someone who is so good looking that I cannot take a photo without appearing like somewhat of a crazed woman. It was hard enough accomplishing this one photo, but the jacket and its owner just had to be recorded here. Ocean does not avoid the tougher challenges.

one of the harder photos to pull off is of your dining neighbor