What's that Song?

photo, group photo of the week In today's Group Photo of the Week five Texans, one Doug and one Yoko.

LucyLaCam – When Will You Join?

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Thursday, 22. March:–  Folks who were out basking in the sun yesterday were getting pelted with pieces of frozen rain. In some countries these iceballs are called hail. In France they are called grêle, and I guess they are what you get when winter wants to give a last snort before turning into spring. Of course I could have been mistaken and it was only grésil, or sleet.

We are getting wonderfully complicated weather maps on the TV–news. But tonight I had to turn up my ears a bit because my TV decided to be in black and white instead of color, so if there was any blue shown on the maps I didn't see it. First, she said, there's big depression in Germany. This is pushing something of other against another big depression sitting on top of Ireland, making what passes for pleasant weather squeeze between the two, becoming hardly improved.

photo, soleil a parisToday's sky of the week in Paris.

Don't try to figure it out. Tomorrow we are going to have grey, rainy, chaos, and the high will be no more than 7 degrees. Light winds will blow water in your face no matter which way you turn. On Saturday France will be divided in three, vertically. Our part might be the best and the high temperature might be 9 degrees.

On Sunday's map I drew one line, from Saint–Malo to Perpignan. West of the line there will be something that does not concern us because it's not near here. East of the line, from the Côte d'Azur to southeast England it will be – warmer! It might be semi–sunny too. I didn't actually see this on the weather news. But warmer I got. They said 11 degrees. Compared to recent winter temperatures it is not brilliant, but it's better than Tuesday, which was very crummy and probably no more than 5. Don't sneeze at it.

The What's That Song Report

While the whole world got up early this morning to dig for money I stayed warm in bed contentedly listening to my kitchen tap not dripping. It's a wonderful sound. Just when I began to think I should record it some joker upstairs in the building commenced to remove some tiles with one of those drills that dentists used along about 1948. I decided to get up and dig for money.

photo, wine pot of the week The best wine pot of the week.

But first, being Thursday, there was a club meeting to be at. I got out my winter scarf, that served so well during New York's Christmas heatwave, and put on my winter coat, glad to have an excuse to wear it again. I put the métro tickets in my pocket, and so on, blah blah. I was just about to pass the cemetery when I ran into my next door neighbor who displayed a great deal of distress about my water problems. It's a bit late, but I didn't say so.

The sun was struggling to emerge from the clouds but I didn't notice much while riding the métro. It came to light as I was crossing the Pont Neuf which is almost all new again. It's such a big job that the new parts at the south end are starting to look a bit old already. Looking too new isn't good either. This isn't Disneyland.

At the club's café the Waiter of the Week, Patrick, apologized for putting le monde in the club's location. There were eight or a dozen people there, sounding like two dozen Americans. I settled into the table nearest the window and admired its outlook. Then I took out today's Le Parisien and read its headline, "Chirac vote Sarkozy" The photo showed the two of them in the rain yesterday, looking glum.

Long–time member Doug Fuss sat down. Doug comes from Savannah, Georgia but as an ex–IBMer he goes on missions to emerging places like the Stans and most recently, to Lebanon. Last summer there he had to leave in a hurry because things got hot hot hot, but he went back later, and recently went with his Joes to Dubai.

The sun was licking at the windows near our elbows so I didn't bother taking notes. I learned a bit more, firsthand rather than from TV, about that part of the world. From what I gathered, the chance of me ever visiting Dubai must be less than zero. I have to be careful though because all these places one is never going to have a annoying habit of becoming destinations. But wait, hands in the air, everybody who is planning to spend a long weekend in Dubai.

photo, beers of the weekBeers of the week.

Well, Doug's stories were more interesting than that. The Americans at the club's tables finally became quieter by leaving the café but they sure took their time getting out the door. There was a big jumble of folks milling around and when the dust cleared, it revealed a team of ladies from Texas who were battling though the departing hordes.

The five ladies introduced themselves as we moved to the roomier club area, and of course nobody sat down in their name–order. They were club members Musette Richey and Barbara Fee, plus Mary Ella Martinez and Minnie Elmore, all from Austin, and Gretchen Kramen from Dallas. All work for the Lone Star State and they were in Paris because they are having two birthdays, one a 75th.

I was already in the bad habit of not keeping notes, like half asleep. The following quotes may be remembered by their authors, without me being able to join names to them.

"Only one more day," for the length of their stay. About the weather news in Metropole – "Wa not crapola!" They managed a side–trip to Normandy where the air was fresh. "Blew up my nose and hit my brain." Somebody's husband got a bad cold trying to see everything out there.

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