This is the story of a joke that went too far. And scope creep. But the root cause analysis would probably point towards that joke gone awry. In the beginning there was a lion. Orange, with a sparkly nose, and stout-though-satiny wings, we acquired Marco when we visited Venice in November. Subsequent to the lion, …
Two exhibits have been on The List since late last year; Fêtes et divertissements à la Cour, at the château de Versailles, and Amazones de la révolution at musée Lambinet in municipal Versailles. For various reasons relating to the weather, health, the vagaries of reality, or the universe simply hating us, we have yet to …
It is probable that, if asked, the Purrito would state that I have the palate of a child. Were I in said room, I would protest that I don’t have the palate of a child, and would proceed to flail in the argument until, in desperation, that I don’t know any kids that like wine, …
I like Malta quite a bit, but I couldn’t tell you why. It suffers from most of the problems that seem to come along with being an ex-British isle (traffic flows on the wrong side, roads are poorly laid out, large portions of the island bear a strong resemblance to a garbage dump, an obvious …
Ockham would ascribe my predicament to the glass on the table, but I should note that I don’t feel like the empty bottles of prosecco are sufficient to explain why I appeared to be drinking with one of the cats.
I had an uncomfortable moment a few days ago while looking through the “Please make a contribution” site that my university alumni association implores everyone to visit; flipping through the pictures of now-suspiciously-young-looking college kids working in this materials lab or playing with that flow device, all the while wondering how staged these were (fluid …
I was doing more or less the same thing last week.
Walking through the oppressive, heavy fog in La défense this morning (which, unsurprisingly, does not photograph particularly well), I found myself giving in to a creeping feeling of sadness; sadness that the very welcome period of rest was over, sadness that my stint of lazy days with the Purrito was now very much at an …
For reasons unknown to us beyond “well, why the hell not?”, we decided to go for a mostly-French-style Christmas eve feast, albeit with a few modifications (said modifications consisted of omitting two courses [oysters and St. Jacques] and moving the beginning of the festivities to 1700, as the whole eat-from-midnight-to-0600 thing is not at all compatible with …
This is why we can’t have nice things. As the miniature sapins that would actually fit in our flat are rapidly approaching their expiration date, we bought a small cypress tree; it’s apparently hardy and thus should survive in the planter on the balcony once we’re finished staring at it, it’s “green” per the Purrito, …
Fezzik In Paris 