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Crumbusters

photo, group, peter, tomoko, josef

The 'Group of 3 of the Week,' Peter, Tomoko and Josef.

Snowman of the Week

Paris:– Thursday, 3. March 2005:– Slush in the air, slush on the ground, slush in between. Little snowflakes blowing around like wisps of wet feathers, from light's feeble dawn to its sad collapse. The wind was sucking from the north, batting the flakes around, pushing white rain up noses.

For a few days now the TV–weather news has been excusing itself by saying that none of the above is normal, that none of it has happened for ten years, and we should just get used to it and quit whining. Well, it's horrible. Rare or not I am going to whine. Everybody else is whining. People, looking frozen, soggy, who aren't whining have been outside too long. They are in shock.

All the same last night's official orange alert didn't translate into deep snow this morning. Just the everlasting wispiness, falling falling, and the wind crawling around to keep it random.

Except for the continuing orange alert for the Ile–de–France tonight, with a low of minus 2 degrees, Friday's confused weather map defies analysis. While watching the TV–weather news horror show, I wrote 'semi' on tomorrow's map.

A semi–wind of 60 kph from the west, a semi–top temperature of 4 degrees, a lot of thick semi–clouds, and more of the horrible same semi–coming from Normandy.

By sometime Saturday some it should be semi–gone east, followed by more semi–coming from Normandy. Then for a change–up on Sunday the wind will switch to thephoto, linda thalman, snowman northeast and blow across here between two formations of more semi up along the Channel and a gloop of it to the southeast. And, oh yes, a high for the day of 2 degrees.

If you were thinking of a walk in a park, forget it. In weather like this many parks are closed. Wool hats are sold out too. Cinemas are open though. Cinemas are heated too.

For those of you who are into winter arts, the server–lady Linda Thalman sent along this wonderful photo of the snowman she sculpted this morning out at the Cadillac Ranch, providing the club's sole 'Snowman of the Week.'

The 'Breadcrumb' Report of the Week

What I couldn't see before I went out to go to the club was the collection of slush on my sidewalk. The sidewalk on the other side was pretty clear but on my side – I almost turned back. But along by the cemetery the sidewalks were pretty clear and only a kilo of snow was stuck to my coat by the time I reached the Métro at Raspail.

Seldom has a Métro's pit looked so welcome. My next–door neighbor blew in behind me, bought aphoto, josef, cafe ticket and caught up again just as the train arrived to take us to the Quartier Latin. Then at Odéon, like Parisians, we each took a different exit, to end up going the same way.

Café café café needs to be hot hot hot today.

Extensive sightseeing was hardly on my mind while I was hustling along Dauphine to the Pont Neuf. Going across the exposed bridge I didn't bother taking more than two photos. Photos of winter being winter aren't gems of light and shadow.

I didn't expect the Quai du Louvre to be busy so its being deserted wasn't a surprise. The café La Corona, when I arrived, was about as lively as an ice cream shop in Greenland. Patrick, often the club's 'Waiter of the Week,' was washing glasses.

In the café's 'grande salle,' a Spanish family was occupying the entire club area, from the window to the back wall. They had too many kids to count, and they had just arrived because they began to order.

I select the best substitute booth and settle in to bring the club's books up to date, finishing about a minute later. When I look up the first new member of the meeting is before me, so I stand and offer the best chair there is. All of the café's chairs are the best the café has, so they are good enough for the club

Peter Ferenczi says he has lived in Paris for two years. He says he came here from Britain where he was studying for his masters. He came here for romance, because romance is here. He came originally from Pasadena, California. I shudder. Roses. California!

It must be the day for nothing because I find that Pasadena has already been the 'City of the Week.' Alan Pavlik claimed it, but has since moved to just above Sunset in Hollywood. South Pasadena was also a 'City of the Week' not so many years ago. Peter tells me that Pasadena has two parts, and one has a lot of liquor stores, he thinks.

Peter says he expected 'to be morephoto, teapot of the week integrated' in Paris than he thinks he is, but I think he is but doesn't know it yet. After all, he found the club on the Web and then found it in Paris. Not that the club is a huge hulking landmark – hardly in the club's lowball style.

And hot hot hot tea will do fine too.

Member Josef Schomburg finds the club meeting in session, pulls up a chair, orders a café and parks his hat on the table. Pretty soon Peter is telling us about how handy Dustbusters are in France.

France, as most people know well, is the breadcrumb capital of the world. Every time you turn around everything is covered is pesky breadcrumbs. Nobody sane eats sliced bread. Wonder bread is called wonder bread because it has no breadcrumbs. It's a wonder anybody eats it. Slice a baguette if you don't believe it about the crumbs.


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