Monday, December 20, 2010

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

Monday, November 15, 2010

where it is about gold and water

November 15th, 2010

Well dear Reader, this is a quite exceptional post since this blog is usually devoted to the soft and lovely France only.
But there are exceptions to the rule, if only to make rules more exciting.

So it is in fact about America a little. Not as the title might induce, about American politics at all, but about an Autumn trip to Utah, where there was gold, and trip to Napa, where there was water.

So the trip to Utah was in the hope of creating some sort of masterpiece paintings during the swift days of leaves turning, and as the little pic may show, they were turning definitely,

definitely gold,

and the Reporter, invited by the most delightful friend managed to turn out one of her usual masterpieces,
in her usual very low key, neutral, sort of porridge colors

This is a lake about 20 minutes from Sundance.
The Reporter was a little miffed as she thought this looked a little like the " Red and Yellow Cliff " by Georgia O'Keefe, that was painted in 1931, and when you think of it, it's kind of strange that Georgia decided to sort of copy so many years in advance one of the little masterpieces of the Reporter.

Nonetheless, the Reporter managed to proceed later on to Napa Valley where there was a family celebration of some sort,
and there the Reporter was really tremendously happy to observe several things.

First there were still some grapes to be harvested from one of her favorite grapes:

Then there were more grapes to be harvested from another kind called Petit Verdot:

and here, dear Readers, we have to include some important information that probably most of our sophisticated Readers are aware of. Petit Verdot in french, though somewhat misspelt, but then who can spell french correctly anyway, means in french " small glass of water" which when you come to think of it, is a pretty sadistic way to have named a grape.

Anyway a great consolation to the sadness of sadistic name calling, appeared at the curve of a Napa bend.
The Reporter was walking with Dear Hubby and lo and behold, they disccovered excatly the tool that Dear Hubby needed for the Decrepit House,

One can easily see now why it was pretty essential to post something about the Great West of America.
With all Autumnal best wishes,
the Frog

Monday, September 27, 2010

of invalides and boulangerie

September 27th, 2010

Well Boys and Girls, everything has to come to an end, and the Reporter was pretty sad she had to close her little bag
to be ready to fly away on September 28th back to sunny California, and leave behind that lovely grey-green parisian sky.

So decided to enjoy to the most her last hours in the city of lights, she took the 82 bus, as she had in fact to drop a little gift for a new mum at the office of her friend, the Great Catherine. And on the way, she clicked her little camera on a little Smart at the Eiffel Tower

Then she looked pensively down on her lap and admired her velvety bag, as she is a very superficial and materialistic girl,

then, on the way back, she took a peek at the Ecole Militaire. Literally translated the Military School, it is a sort of brooding building, a few blocks away from the magnificent one of The Invalides. The Ecole Militaire used to be really a training military school in the 1900's. There is one wing named Artillerie, loosely translated as Artillery, and another wing called Cavalerie, which you may have guessed is loosely Cavalry. As a matter of fact, the Reporter's dad did his military time in the Cavalerie in like around 1922, and that took place in a forest near Paris called Fontainebleau. There, he was like a lieutenant and was given the task to take 20 men and go shoot in the forest near a small wooden tower which was used as a " point de repere" or a benchmark. So they galloped " ventre a terre " which is "belly on the floor " which only means ' pretty fast' really.

Except her dad had the 20 men, after galloping ventre a terre, aiming at the "point de repere" and the wooden tower went down. So that was it for the benchmark. They came back trotting, all happy with themselves. That curiously didn't go so well with the Captain, and her dad was never asked again to take men to take aim at anything.

So anyway, neither here nor there, this is the Ecole Militaire where her dad shined,

and next to it is Le Cafe des Officiers, or The Cafe of the Officers,

But if you ask me, there's not a lot of officers there.
Then the 82 bus passed the magnificent building of the Invalides which was created for the war invalides.
That was the favorite building of the Reporter's dad, so every time she passes there, she cries. Which is an embarrassment for
the poor travelers of the 82 bus.

And then, Boys and Girls we arrive to the crux of this last post on Paris.
For the 12 days that the Reporter spent in Paris, she looked in her posh 7th arrondissement for a wonderful baguette, as she, as a good former french little girl, loves a good piece of bread. And she had really tried like every bakery around Rue Vaneau in a circle of about 5 km. But it seemed all baguettes, even the traditional ones, didn't amount to much. So she was pretty depressed.
And then, like only THREE days ago, she spotted the Boulangerie des Invalides,

which she had earlier dismissed as it looked a little too refined from the outside. And she had thought, stupidly, such a pretty boulangerie has to make an awful bread. But, pushed by hunger, THREE days ago, she pushed the door, ordered " une ficelle ", which you cannot translate literally as " a piece of string " so you have to know " une ficelle" is a very thin baguette but not as thin as piece of string. As ALWAYS, the french tend to " exagerer " or " exaggerate."

And Lo and Behold, the ficelle from the Boulangerie des Invalides was more than delicious, it was Heaven !!

And the Reporter swooned next to la Boulangerie.

So, just to show you, what the best Boulangerie in Paris looks like, you are lucky enough that she was allowed to take some pics, so you can see that effectively, the prettiest Boulangerie in Paris, does the BEST bread in Paris.
And she is not mentioning the little cakes and pastries, as there is a tarte aux framboises, a raspbery tart,

which didn't look bad at all, or even a crumble aux abricots et pistaches, an apricot and pistachio crumble, that she would have swooned about again, and there was already enough swooning as it was.

And here is the bar, where you can order a " cafe allongé" which doesn't mean that the coffee is laying down but that it is in a bigger cup so a little weaker, and the cafe allongé at La Boulangerie des Invalides is sinfully good, seriously.

and sadly, last pic from this exquisite place,

So there, dear Reader, with much love and scents of wonderful coffee, from the exquisite Boulangerie,
the Frog

of hospital and gardens

September 26th, 2010

Well the Parisian, and french, stay getting towards its rueful end, the Reporter had a few things to bring together.

First, she had to visit the little square, near l'Institut, where she used to go as a child, so she visited that one,
eating a pain au chocolat under the shade of the trees.

Once that was done, she went to visit a place to choose samples of paint for the Decrepit House,
in that very hip paint store called " Mise en Teinte " or literally " Put into Shade " which doesn't put into
shade any other more pedestrian paint store as that one is faintingly expensive.

Fact is, the price for three samples, was so high that the poor Reporter swooned, and smelling salts were brought.

After that interesting event,
to get better, she went to see her doctor, at the American Hospital in Neuilly, and Lo and Behold, dear Reader, this is where her glorious first child was born !!! YES, Tall was born here, at the American Hospital and the courageous Reporter took a pic, and if you look at it closely, you may even click on it to have a better view, there on the right wing, fourth level, second window, that was the Reporter's bedroom, except it was on the other
side of the hallway.
But still, if you look at the second window, french third floor, American fourth level, you can imagine that ACROSS, on the OTHER FACADE, that is where the courageous mother and glorious first child spent their first days, outside womb, together. If that is not the most moving thing that Paris ever went through. Well, Neuilly for that matter.

On Sunday, to celebrate the lovely tempestuous grey day, the Reporter took one of her best friends, Ariane to see the Marly Gardens.
The Marly Gardens are located not that far from Versailles.

Unbelievingly, Ariane, whom the Reporter and other friends call the Queen, as Ariane believes that every country should be overlooked by a King, and elections serve no purpose, [ a kind King, that is, and not allowing poverty to reign ]
well, so, the Reporter took the Queen to visit the Marly Gardens which the Queen had never seen before.
An omission that had to be remedied.
So the Gardens in that Glorious Grey Day looked like this,

Yes, I thought you would like that too.

So with love from the wonderful Gardens and the exquisite tempestuous day of Marly,
the Frog

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

non rustic

September 22, 2010

All right, I have to say, I have to update a bit on the activities of the Reporter.

To be truthful, during the lapse of time since the rustic post, she did nothing.

Mostly, she had a cold, she drunk wine with friends, she had lunches and dinner, she looked for
a toaster-oven, an arduous thing in Paris central I can tell you, and mostly she gleefully and egotistically
enjoyed a glorious indian summer in Paris in a most complacent way.

But, the artistic side called, and there she went, first to the Pierre and Alexandra Boulat photo show at Le Petit Palais,

She would have liked to go also opposite the street, at Le Grand Palais,

but there was like a line defying all enthusiasm.

So instead, the Reporter invited her Provencal brother to come and visit her, which he did,
as you can see below as he is on his cell in front of Les Invalides,

And here is a closer look to the purple socks,

And then they went to l'Institut,

From there, they wanted to see the Monet show, but it was not yet opened,

So then they went to la Biennale and that time there was no line,

and there...... they saw this little marvel, a 1921 Picasso, a pastel about 30 x 30, of two hands,
and there they fainted right away in front of so much beauty.

And then they went to sleep and on the next day, it was sunrise, and they saw this from the bathroom window,

And that is the end,
with all love from pink sunrise, and Picasso Pink Period,
the Frog

Saturday, September 11, 2010


september 11, 2010

Well the rustication has to end, so the Reporter went one more time to Sarlat as she was missing a palette knife,
and so she took a few more shots of the little town,

Then it was the last morning and there was fog on the valley nearby early in the morning,

and so they had breakfast on the terrace and it was a little difficult,

Then she went back to Paris and there she checked what was going on, and she saw that in NY on the friday of fashion week, the Reporter was so surprised to see a pic of the wonderful Grace Coddington and ... Karlie Kloss whom her daugther likes a lot,
and guess what Boys and Girls, Karlie was wearing on her feet,

So the Reporter dashed back to her closet to make sure her pair of white socks was still there and not on Karlie's feet, but pfew, it was stilll there.

So in this September 11,
tons of love to Rhoda, and Moby, who have a birthday,
and to New York with all our heart,
the Reporter

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

About wind

september 8th, 2010

Well the courageous Reporter, dear Boys and Girls, made it last night to the heart of the country where the Decrepit House is.
And it has to be said that Dear Friend was very courageous in fetching his Frog to this dark, lost in the middle of nowhere brand new airport of Brive la Gailliarde.

It's an airport not unreminiscent of the South West China airports that spring all marble clothed in the middle of nowhere. This one is marble clad and aluminium and green glass, it looks awesome and it has a heavy traffic of three airplanes per day coming from Paris.

It has a sumptuous flight tower, real high and you look at it thinking of these controllers up there who have to deal with three planes a day and sometimes there are delays and the night flight comes really late [ like the Reporter's ] and the whole airport is plunged in darkness except for a tiny light above one of the carrousels, and one tiny light you can see up there in the control tower.

We were about a dozen in the turboprop, and it felt a bit like flying with Saint Exupery frankly except there was no Sahara desert around.

Anyway, the Reporter plunged into country life. She went the next day to Sarlat,

and ambled around,

while it was market day

then, she drove back home, where the grass had been burnt by the scorching August,

and then she checked on further demolition, which in fact is the LAST facade of the Decrepit House to be scraped from the ugly grey stucco in place since 1830.
So now we can see the beautiful stones,

And if you look closely at the ugly lower part, still grey and unscrapped, from the pic above,

this is what it will look like in the end:

Just pure beauty if you ask me. In the meantime, she cut mercilessly all the dead hydrangea and clipped the piracantha which is a nasty thorny bush which should really be called piranha. It's an equivalent of the red burning bush and believe me it really burns you when you prick your finger.
So here what it looked like after the Reporter with her Attila the Hun clippers passed by,

She also re-painted an old painting, and when Dear Old Friend had hung a huge mirror with an ugly wood painted frame the color of urine, and asked her if she wanted to clean up the mirror [ she offered to do so as she had an ulterior motive ] so, as soon as he had disappeared into the library to his computer, she rushed back to the kitchen from the entrance hall which was conveniently next door. There, where she was painting the back ground of her canvas a sort of pale blue grey lilac, she dived for the windex [ to clean up the mirror ] and her brush of pale blue grey lilac [ to paint the urine frame ] and lo and behold, in less than 45 minutes she had repainted the urine frame hoping that Dear Old Friend from his library, which door was opened, wouldn't hear the muffled sound of her black boots to the Hall,from the kitchen, where she was collecting more paint.

And there she made it just in time !!!

He came out of the library, complimented on the glistening mirror and did not even see that his frame had changed colors !!!!!

She was a little miffed that one of grander master piece was not even recognized.

With love from the country and with tons of blue grey lilac paint,
the Frog