“The idleness I like is not that of the lounger, who sits there, arms crossed, wholly inert, and who no more thinks than he acts. …
“How do you do, Doctor Franklin,” said Israel. “Ah! I smell Indian corn,” said the doctor… A countryman, sit down, my good Sir. Well? What…
I’ve just returned from Bruges and my ten-day stay at the medieval beguinage, now a Benedictine monastery. I am still floating a bit from having…
In a more genteel version of our rather fraught Parisian lives, my husband and I would dine out once a week at one of Alexander…
In France the month of May starts off sweetly enough, or so it seems. May 1st, the feast day of Saint Joseph the Worker, is…
Are your kid gloves blighted with ring-around-the-wrist from a night of dancing at the Junior League Ball? When you last snuffed a sniffle with a…
We’re about to head out and vote today for France’s next president, and by the time you, my dear subscribers, receive this posting the results…
J’ai voté Marine… April 29th, 2012 Comments(0) “J’ai voté Marine, mais, bon… maintenant je vais voter Sarko.” The cashier at Huguet Primeur was just about…
A writer’s path is rarely straightforward, particularly if she is living outside her country, creating a life for herself between two cultures and languages. My…
Brother Wilfred must have been in his eighties when he coached the tennis team at San Joaquin Memorial High School – this was back in…