Look who I bumped into at the grocery store yesterday… Happy Chinese New Year! It’s the year of the dragon. Since I’m a dragon I’m expecting a roaring year though without too much fire breathing, I hope. Had a lot of that last year and didn’t like it so much.
Dragon chaps?
I would love to have one of these dragons: any idea where to get one?
Well that’s one thing, now on to another. We live in an era of distractions and interruptions so you should be used to this. Here now, let me change the channel.
The Overheard, The Overread
The ear accepts all invitations, even when it is not invited. It is impossible in a city of this density not to overhear conversations daily; it is equally impossible not to notice the writing on the walls: one is constantly incited to overhear and to overread.
Therefore I’d like to share with you today, an overheard and an overread recently culled from the streets and kiosks of Paris.
The Overheard:
Conversation between a vendor at Huguet Primeur on the rue de Meaux and a dreadlocked client whom I will refer to as “Dready.” Shall we listen in? (English translation follows.)
Vendor: Les fêtes se sont bien passées? Tu as été gâté ? Ca s’est bien passé ?
Dready : Elles se sont très bien passées, oui, oui, très bien ; elles se sont très bien passées. Impeccables.
Vendor : Mais tu as été gâté ? Oui ou non ? On t’a gâté ?
Dready : Non, non, je n’ai pas été gâté. Pas gâté du tout… non, non, parce que j’ai été un vilain garçon. Je ne l’ai pas mérite et on ne m’a pas gâté.
Vendor : Mais ta femme, alors, tu l’as gâtée ? T’as gâté ta femme ?
Dready : Oui, oui, je l’ai gâtée, bien sûr que je l’ai gâtée… quelque part. Oui quelque part je l’ai gâtée …oui, oui… Je l’ai gâtée quelque part. Quelque part…
English Version :
Vendor : Did you have a nice Holiday ? Were you spoiled ? Did it all go well ?
Dready : It went very well, yes, yes, very well. The holiday went well. Impeccable.
Vendor : But were you spoiled ? Yes or no? Did they spoil you ?
Dready : No, no, I wasn’t spoiled. Not at all spoiled. No no, because I was a bad boy. I didn’t deserve it and they didn’t spoil me.
Vendor : But what about your wife : Did you spoil her ? Did you spoil your wife ?
Dready : Yes, yes, I spoiled her, of course, I spoiled her… somewhere. Yes, somewhere I spoiled her…yes, yes…I spoiled her somewhere. Somewhere…
I don’t know about you but I find Dready’s « quelque part » or « somewhere » mighty suspicious. Too indefinite, too frequently repeated. All the same I’d like to believe Madame Dready’s « somewhere » was well taken care of – pampered, spoiled, delighted, pleasured — as it undoubtedly deserved.
I left Huguet Primeur giggling into my scarf and headed off to the cheesewife’s to pick up some parmesan. You must not let overhearing distract you from your shopping list.
And now: the Overread from Marie-Claire magazine
“La pénétration est incroyablement rapide : je pense retourner à mes activités sans perdre de temps.”
“The penetration is incredibly rapid: I can think about going back to whatever I was doing without wasting any time.”
Hmmm… Contrary to what one might think this is not an ode to the quickie, but an advertisement for a hand cream called “Vita citral.” It contains an extract of the Jericho rose otherwise knows as the Rose of the Resurrection. Maybe it’s worth trying?
Well, I will end on this floral note. Here are some pictures of some recent resurrections in my garden: mysterious hellebores.
And a confused azalea blooming in January.