of amelie and fabrics

Dear Reader,

So the Reporter decided to leave the Left Bank and transfer to the Right. She had her passport and all was fine.

As a matter of fact, she subwayed to Amelie Poulain's territory, Montmartre. But not so much in search of the lovely ingenue but to get some fabric from the venerable Marche St Pierre where you find all sorts of rolls of fabric discarded by any fabric companies.

It's a very random place where you find all sorts of chic Parisians who could afford expensive yards of fabric but pride themselves on getting there a bargain. The Reporter was looking for a Pique de Coton, color : navy. It's practically impossible to find today Pique de Coton, and navy being a most unusual color to find in that range of fabric, of course the Reporter was all the more piqued to find it. So she arrived at the foot of Montmartre, and there were some Japanese tourists, as it should be,









then the Reporter spotted her dear store,







Once inside she ascended the stairs and dutifully observed she would have to pay at each floor, for her finds before moving to another one,









And there, looking for her Pique de Coton, she could spot madras fabric,








some discreet damas,









some sunset colored silk,









some unusual embossed fabric,








fake ostrich,








little purple things, not un-reminiscent of the anthrax virus through the microscope,









a pretty charming toile de jouy,









and no Pique de Coton.
Useless to describe the horrible feeling of let down from the Reporter who had so courageously crossed over from her Left Bank. So she started to stroll over the foot of Montmartre with her poor little broken heart.
And there she met successively some little stores which soothed the broken pieces.
First a book store for her kind, called " L'Etourdi ", or in plain english, " The Scatterbrain ",









then a little store named, " Sur La Terre Comme Au Ciel ", which means " On Earth As In Heaven", and it was a place where wedding dresses are made, though how many weddings are made in heaven, we don't know, but we can hope,












Then she stumbled on the tiniest restaurant, named... " MIlk " ! and under the title was painted : " Mum in her little kitchen "
do click on the second pic, as you will see how the K of Milk ends,
























As you can see, she was pretty taken by Milk, though she has no taste for the potion.

And then she stumbled last on her favorite of favorite of favorite little theaters, l' Atelier,










That's when she realized that her broken little heart was in one large piece again, and she breathed.
With all unbroken wishes,
the Frog

of paper

Dear Reader,

the weather in Paris was its usual romantic grey. So the Reporter was happy to visit a cafe,








in the company of her tall but elusive brother,







then a visit to the Medicis Fountain in the delightful Luxembourg gardens,







then the Reporter was transported by the paperwork offered by the Bon Marche into its windows,










































































that was when the Reporter felt that her creative skills needed some recycling,

with depressing hugs,
the Frog

wild animals and grey weather

So Dear Reader,

it was like a mourning grey weather again, but that didn't deter from visiting wild animals one more time, like a slender giraffe









or some slender ones behind glasses,










and as it was sort of cold, the teapot in the window was pretty appealing,










after the thought of warm tea, it was easy to challenge the wind and so walked on the Reporter through the Seine


















then through the Tuileries,





















After all that rustication , a little fishy food was nice,










and a nice cafe lunch was just right with scarfed men around,










and even more elegant waiters,











then, for like a minute, it was nice to back into the XVIII th century in a very simple children's store,








Just to top it off, we needed a ceiling









And then the Reporter just went back to her unheated rooftop where the rain leaks, thinking that a Parisian rain leak is better than anything anywhere else...
With love,
the Frog

about cycles

Dear All,

this being the second day, with mixed weather, the Reporter who had to canvas 3 arrondissements, started to think about transportations.
Parisians in the know, think cycles.

So it can be of course the Velib that you find in the street, and just punch in your credit card, and off you go,
but it looks better if you have pink hair :













But most people now, and we are not talking about messengers, here, we are talking about entrepreneurs, small bankers, big CEOs, medium photographers, large city hall employees, visiting doctors, use the three wheels motorcycle. It looks like a gigantic toy tricycle, and it is one too.
Doesn't it look great ? Like is it not every grown-up man dream ?
It looks like below, parked illegally of course on the sidewalk,












And then it has that huge windshield with that huge space behind it,
see how it can be used as a trash place for used tissues ?










Then of course, you have the die-hard traditionalist, so distinguished, who will drive only his forty year old vespa :










So the Reporter, amidst this large choice, decided for a taxi.

Off she went to meet her brother at their favorite fish haunt :











Then checked on her favorite flower shop,









Then she had to stop by the Bon Marche, where it was the twice a year seasonal three day sale,
that most unfortunately fell on her Parisian stay :









and she was not the only one to check those,








Then she was waiting to cross the street, when she saw The Distinguished Mature Parisian In Sportive Mood :










and then mightily exhausted, she walked another half hour away to go have dinner at the Esplanade des Invalides, and on her way, the Tower twinkled in her old friendly way,









And off she was to fall into Morpheus' arms, not the one in the Matrix.
The Reporter knows only the Greek one, the God of Dreams, with whom she is on first name basis.
With Love,
the Frog

rip steve and thank you

Dear All,

so the Reporter just arrived in Paris and it rains, sad day and tears for the departing of steve jobs.

Otherwise, Paris was a lovely tinge of grey starting at the airport as an oracle..





Sky was indeed grey,






but it is good that sky is in mourning too.
The Reporter, ever the non superficial one couldn't put her on her darling sandals,









so she chose instead a more rustic approach














In waiting for more adventures, lots of love for everyone,
the Frog

where the writer is stupid

Dear Reader,

We have to say that the Courageous Reporter despite her magnificent courage, shows an immense amount of lameness, as she has taken lots of pics since she arrived in the delightful city of paris, but then... She realized, that having taken only on, her brand new I pad, since she is a geek, she cannot, cannot upload pics on her blog from just an i Pad, so she is totally, absurdly frustrated so, dear Reader, do take life patiently till the courageous reporter finds a mac which will deliver the goods.

She is a geek, but like all geeks, with limitations.

Frustratingly,

The Frog

about clouds and other things

December 19th, 2010


Well, Boys and Girls,

even though the Frog is not in france, this will be one more post so we end up the year on a happy and friendly note.
Let it be said that this Frog's heart is really warmed up by the huge amount of comments that this delicious blog is receiving each time there is a new message.

But since there is no disparaging comment either, her heart is doubly warmed.

Now to end this year in a majestic way, we shall have one look at what the beach looks like these days in the neighborhood of LA,




then to stay in that equally distinguished shade of grey, here is what the Frog's home looks like, or rather what she
would like it to look like,





but alas, this is not to be, so the Frog decided to furiously continue splashing paint and else on her blank canvasses
in the hope to transform the meager walls of her simple abode, and this is what it came to :



















and then in the last one, she tried to get some likeness to her newly found hero, Mr. Julian A.,
but alas, again, the resemblance was a little too hard to catch, and she didn't want to make him a prisoner of her canvas too,










So there my dear Readers,
this is to wish you the loveliest, happiest and most nagical end of the year, bathed in peace and love.
And ultimately the hope and certitude that this new year will be transparent and loving !!!



With all winter wishes,
the Frog