Three Years On

Window of women's spa in Kingwood, TX

         As I mentioned in the last post, we just got back from a 3 week stay in the States and right before we left Marianne gave us the okay for another year in France. It’s over three years now so I thought a bit of reflection was in order, especially since my first trip home in two years gave me the perfect opportunity to compare and contrast.

After gaining an astonishing amount of weight during my last trip stateside I was determined to limit the damage this time, but it wasn’t easy. In fact I swear I could feel my belt tightening as soon as we entered American airspace. Compounding the problem is the undeniable reality that an aging body doesn’t shed the excess like it once did. However my adoption of an increasingly sedentary home life at least mitigated things somewhat as I came in at a higher weight anyway. So all in all it had to be considered a minor triumph that I only picked up 5 extras pounds.

Incident At Milepost 49

The HoJo at Oakmont looked just like this

             Lately, I haven't been posting much for reasons that really don't matter but have resulted in my going through some of the essays and other writing that I've had laying around for a long time. Over the years, I've accumulated a trove of mediocrity that I once thought was pretty good. At some point, everyone even semi-serious about writing imagines their masterpieces being featured in the New Yorker or some other lofty publication and I was no different. But most of my stuff was written with no idea where it could possibly find the light of day. I paid no attention to any of the advice every aspiring writer gets on researching markets and how to appeal to editors or anything else that might have at least gotten me some encouraging rejection slips. So now I've decided that if none of this stuff is ever going to make me a member of the next Algonquin Round Table, I'm foisting it off from time to time on whoever runs across this blog accidentally in the course of surfing for pornography.
       
           The first of these I've rewritten so many times I can't stand it anymore. It was intended originally for some now defunct online magazine in Pittsburgh and I think I was encouraged by most of the previously published pieces being worse. I'm not sure Thurber would have gotten very far, either, if his mantra had been, "Shit, I'm not that bad."

How To Gain 15 Pounds In A Month (Guaranteed)

            We just came home to Bordeaux after spending a month in the States. This was my first trip back since moving last September. I hadn't thought I'd been missing much in the way of food except a good steak. The beef in France leaves something to be desired, and a couple of steaks was the only thing I planned to eat. But being constantly confronted by things we couldn't find here, well, something came over me. By the time we left I was having a hard time putting my pants on and when I worked up the nerve to stand on a scale on Friday, I'd gained 15 pounds. I haven't weighed this much in a long time and what surprised me was not how much I'd gained but how easy it was. So if you've ever wanted to gain a lot of weight in a hurry, with little effort, here's how I did it (your results might vary).

Phantom of the Apero - Pastis

  

          My last post dealt with the results of drunkenness, so it seemed appropriate to segue into a good way to get blotto in France. I probably should have done this one a couple of months ago since it's about pastis, a drink traditionally served cold and popular in summer. Come to think of it, though, the first time I ever saw anyone drinking it was in the fall ten years ago when Cynthia and I spent a week near St. Tropez. She had a subscription to a magazine called "Fluent French" and every couple of months she got a CD of conversations with native French speakers along with a booklet with the  translation. Coincidentally, the one she got right before our trip had conversations with some kahuna from Ricard, one of the most well known brands, along with some pastis enthusiasts who provided ringing endorsements. So the whole time she bugged me to try this stuff, which I resisted because I knew there was some kind of process involved and didn't want to look any more like a foreign rube than I already did.  

O Llama, Where Art Thou.

            Well, things are finally getting back to normal here in Bordeaux.  You might be aware that last week 5 fêtards ivre (drunk party animals), as Le Parisien called them, made off with a llama from a travelling circus and took it for a ride on the tram. English language accounts passed on just the basic story, plus a few of the photos and videos. They generally maintained the French media's lighthearted attitude with only the CBC using the word "hooligans" and mentioning calls for punishment. So Canadians have little tolerance for drunken debauchery and boorish behavior, unless, of course, you're the mayor of Toronto. The past week here it's been all Serge, all the time and yesterday was the first day he was missing from the local newspaper, Sud-Ouest, website. He will, however, be making a personal appearance at Le Girondins soccer match on Sunday so Sergermania might not have abated.

      

Phantom of the Apero

            A couple of days after posting about beer, we made a trip to one of our favorite supermarchés and I found myself standing in the spirits aisles contemplating the many hip and sophisticated ways a guy in France could get plastered, or bourré. I suppose most of this stuff is available in the States but an early brush with Southern Comfort coupled with a 21st birthday celebration gone awry made me steer clear of anything stronger than wine ever since. While living in San Diego I discovered my inner Casanova through tequila but my skills went mostly unappreciated so I ditched margaritas for the economy of beer.