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 …
Prior to our leisurely walk to le Musée du Luxembourg for the Fantin-Latour exhibit, we hit the market street with two purposes: normal weekend shopping and pre-holiday shopping. After procuring part of the wine, but before hitting the épicerie, we wandered into the boucherie with hopes that it was possible to procure something resembling a …
Two data points do not a trend make (nor even indicate), but we seem to be turning into people who show up for book signings. Last Thursday’s signing was for Craig Carlson’s Pancakes in Paris. Under normal circumstances, I am not one to give much of a shit about pancakes, at least from a literary perspective (though …
Seriously, Fezzik?
There exists an alternate universe (a large number of them, if we’re fully invoking many-worlds, though at the moment it’s far too early in the morning to dance with the sanity-threatening bear that is the concept of the infinite) in which this particular post was written a few days from now. It involves an abbey …
More than two years ago, the first museum that the Purrito and I visited, our first encounter with Parisian cultural activities, the first time that we decided to seize a weekend and do something new, we went to Le musée du quai Branly because it was close and because the Purrito had read that it …
One of the windows on the back side of our building was open. To this point, we had ignored their existence (largely because they are rarely open).
While I finally took a look through the pictures that I took while we were in Poland last weekend, I have made essentially no progress on writing either the associated post or the captions. So here’s a picture of a screaming octopus kite, taken last night as we sat on the esplanade in front of …
Fezzik In Paris 