Back in the Ile de France, as Johnny Halliday might paraphrase Lennon–McCartney.
Nothing like an 8-hour layover at Chicago’s O’Hare to stimulate the journalistic juices. Airports in general are no fun, although Denver is an exception and some of the smaller, Bozeman & Colorado Springs come to mind, are quite tolerable.
But not O'Hare. There used to be NO place to recharge a laptop or phone, and now there are plenty, but most don't work. Like the menus in Moscow restaurants that offer untold gastronomic delights, but in reality there is only chicken available.
I was almost tempted to drop into downtown until I checked the wind chill.
Had enough of that in Paradise, with minus
35F and a wind chill of minus 46 (that’s minus 200 Celsius for my European
followers and near absolute zero on the Kelvin scale). My truck started much to
my amazement, albeit amidst bizarre shrieks of protest not previously
encountered.
It doesn’t take a heap of airport
observation to recognize that personality is a zero sum game. For those few
that suffer from multiple personality disorder, there a bunch that have none.
Chicago, Chicago, that toddlin' town that Frank
Sinatra called is “kinda town.” Fairly certain he never spent much time in
concourse C at O’Hare.
##########
The Paris apartment may or may not be
available in April, depending on whether reconstruction of the 17th century
wall proceeds smoothly. It’s always something. But I have decided to pop over to
recon the landscape and offer advice to the workers.
##########
I
wonder if anyone has ever expired from an overdose of cheese. I could be in trouble
here. I have always distained the “shop til you drop” mentality, but trudging
through the marché ouvert today with enough dairy to cause a cholesterol
riot, I twigged that when it comes to nourriture I am as vulnerable as any fashion
diva. Bon appétit.
And
gluten. Don’t get me started! Gluten et
fromage, a marriage made in gastronomic heaven.
##########
I departed on Valentine’s Day, the day
of the year when much love is expressed, often to the exclusion of the other
364. As, perhaps, the throngs who descend on Christian churches each Easter to
pay their annual respects to the deity.
And I wonder how many of the X
chromosomes give a Valentine gift to the Y’s? Who wrote that rule? But I did
get a card from some very special 4-legged friends.
##########
Revisiting my decades-old haunts for
favorites pizza (best on the planet), confit
de canard, cous-cous, sole meuniére, etc.
Bientot
No comments:
Post a Comment