You know, every time you think you’ve reached the absolute pinnacle of management dysfunction, you find you’ve only made it to the base camp & you have another 8000 feet to go.
In this case that translates to my corporate group changing “strategy”, again (it happens on average every nine months), with all hands to the enterprise clinical systems pump. Meaning they’ve turned their backs on consumer applications. Understand: they’ve blown hot & cold about them for as long as I’ve been here, but still.
&since there are three product management groups—one already in the enterprise space & one with applications that lie on clinical systems—that leaves the consumer-only one out in the cold. Especially since my own manager has managed to get up the noses of engineering, program management & the group VP.
At the hastily-called all-hands meeting last Thursday, they cheerily announced that a new loosely defined product management & marketing department would be under the direction of two people.
Yeah, because co-emperors are always so successful.
But there wasn’t any information about who sits in which organization. & our previous GM (now one of the co-GMs) assured us that they’d work out the details “over the next two weeks”.
Anyway, truth be told, this hasn’t turned out the be the best match for my skills. I’m not comfortable with committing to building products based on someone shooting from the hip (or blowing through their butt) about what the market needs. I like to do some actual, you know, research to scope out the real need, the competition, etc. My mantra is: is it real; can we make it; can we make a profit with it?
That is not the group way here.
I don’t know how much time we’ve got, so I’ve been scoping out the job boards, pinging my network (such as it is in these parts). Found an opportunity that practically shrieked, “Bas Bleu, come on down!”—product manager for a telecoms-facing CRM service. Seven minutes after I sent the recruiter my CV he replied asking to talk that afternoon. & that went well. He sent me the full JD & a link to the client company so I could customize a new version.
& then the next morning (before I sent the new one) he emailed me to say the client really wanted someone with carrier experience & “handset manufacturing isn’t relevant to their business.”
Excuse me? Handsets? Alcatel built the switches, routers, pipes & network management software for carrier-grade networks. Our customers were all the big boys—BT, SW Bell, Telus, Deutsche Telekom, etc. & it was my job to know what carriers needed & how to pitch to them. (Okay, they did make some handsets for the mobile market; they looked cool but had lousy UX.)
I did push back on the recruiter, & sent my new CV. I also plan to call him & ask him to schedule a meet with the client; because if I have to get out the sock puppets, I’m going to need face time.
& I’m trying not to let fear drive me, although it’s a challenge. I was laid off once before, also in a crap economy, & it’s not pleasant.
So perhaps now’s the time for me to think about a complete career change. Like becoming a torch singer. Now that most indoor spaces are non-smoking, I could really get into drinking more whisky than is entirely good for me & crooning about the pain of loving bad men & wearing high heels.
As far as stability goes, it would certainly be three steps up from where I am now.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Movie truth
I’m feeling in need of some amusement these days, and this came via the marketing star at Soapbox Marketing.
I have to say, these are pretty much spot on. But I could add a couple:
Valkyrie: “Yet Another Vanity Vehicle for a Vertically-Challenged Legend-in-his-own-Mind to Perform Histrionics”
(Okay, probably too long to fit on a poster. How about “Gott strafe Cruise”?
Sherlock Holmes (2009): “Mindlessness over Matter”
Avatar: “Not for the Color-Blind”
What are your nominations?
I have to say, these are pretty much spot on. But I could add a couple:
Valkyrie: “Yet Another Vanity Vehicle for a Vertically-Challenged Legend-in-his-own-Mind to Perform Histrionics”
(Okay, probably too long to fit on a poster. How about “Gott strafe Cruise”?
Sherlock Holmes (2009): “Mindlessness over Matter”
Avatar: “Not for the Color-Blind”
What are your nominations?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Leaving a bad taste
The WSJ reported this story about how much harder it is for big-headed chefs to smuggle contraband meat into the country in the wake of the Christmas Day Underwear Bomber.
Oh, boo-hoo.
As with most travelers who think US Customs & Agriculture restrictions are 1) quaint; 2) not applicable to them; or 3) an intellectual challenge to be overcome on principle, these clowns don’t even bother to show any sort of chagrin about their activities. This isn’t smuggling, they say; smuggling = drugs. We’re engaged in, in…educational endeavors. Yes, this is educational, not criminal!
(Educational in the sense that they’re trying to pirate proprietary product information from European artisans so as to improve their own revenue stream.)
The reporter seems to admire their escapades, giving them a Peck’s-Bad-Boy-meets-Robin-Hood patina. He buries the little fact that the bans on importing this stuff is for the protection of, you know, the American people & our own agriculture business. The sausages & salamis they slip down their socks can contain all sorts of nasties like bacteria that can spread disease much wider than their restaurant patronage.
Naturally, the chefs don’t comment on that little fact, nor does the writer ask them about it. “So, you’re saying that knowing which spices go into coppa di Testa so you can have a new menu item three months out of the year outweighs the spread of disease throughout the domestic pig population?” No, that might be awkward--they might not comp him a meal if he did that.
Way to focus, egotistical morons; way to show your civic values.
Oh, boo-hoo.
As with most travelers who think US Customs & Agriculture restrictions are 1) quaint; 2) not applicable to them; or 3) an intellectual challenge to be overcome on principle, these clowns don’t even bother to show any sort of chagrin about their activities. This isn’t smuggling, they say; smuggling = drugs. We’re engaged in, in…educational endeavors. Yes, this is educational, not criminal!
(Educational in the sense that they’re trying to pirate proprietary product information from European artisans so as to improve their own revenue stream.)
The reporter seems to admire their escapades, giving them a Peck’s-Bad-Boy-meets-Robin-Hood patina. He buries the little fact that the bans on importing this stuff is for the protection of, you know, the American people & our own agriculture business. The sausages & salamis they slip down their socks can contain all sorts of nasties like bacteria that can spread disease much wider than their restaurant patronage.
Naturally, the chefs don’t comment on that little fact, nor does the writer ask them about it. “So, you’re saying that knowing which spices go into coppa di Testa so you can have a new menu item three months out of the year outweighs the spread of disease throughout the domestic pig population?” No, that might be awkward--they might not comp him a meal if he did that.
Way to focus, egotistical morons; way to show your civic values.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Order in the court!
Well, welcome to 2010, the year of reason, intelligent systems & justice for all.
A grey-&-white tabby cat has been called to jury duty in Boston. I am not making this up.
Seems Sal Esposito’s humans included him on their last census form, in the pet category. The Suffolk Superior Court spied him & issued the summons.
Although Guy & Anna Esposito have tried to ’splain to officials that Sal’s a cat, & even requested disqualification by checking the “does not speak English well” box (evidently you have to check a box, no free-form excuses), the court is unimpressed, & Sal is to show up for service on 23 March.
I don’t know about the origin of the jury duty call—most places I live cull their rolls from voter records & the DMV, not the census, which takes place only once a decade. (In Virginia, when you get a driver’s license, you’re in the jury duty pool.)
Also—it’s been a while since I filled out a census form (I was out of the country in 2000), but aren’t ages associated with any names recorded? You’d think Sal would be disqualified as being too young if for nothing else.
But this being America, Sal may be forced to serve. I’m waiting to see what kind of human-feline language interpreter they bring in so Sal can follow the court proceedings. & if licking his butt in the jury box causes an uproar & calls for a mistrial by the defense.
I’m not worried about jury tampering—opposing counsel could bribe him with cans of tuna & catnip mice all day long. Any self-respecting cat would accept the tribute & do whatever he damn well pleased anyhow.
So maybe this is an improvement over biped juries?
A grey-&-white tabby cat has been called to jury duty in Boston. I am not making this up.
Seems Sal Esposito’s humans included him on their last census form, in the pet category. The Suffolk Superior Court spied him & issued the summons.
Although Guy & Anna Esposito have tried to ’splain to officials that Sal’s a cat, & even requested disqualification by checking the “does not speak English well” box (evidently you have to check a box, no free-form excuses), the court is unimpressed, & Sal is to show up for service on 23 March.
I don’t know about the origin of the jury duty call—most places I live cull their rolls from voter records & the DMV, not the census, which takes place only once a decade. (In Virginia, when you get a driver’s license, you’re in the jury duty pool.)
Also—it’s been a while since I filled out a census form (I was out of the country in 2000), but aren’t ages associated with any names recorded? You’d think Sal would be disqualified as being too young if for nothing else.
But this being America, Sal may be forced to serve. I’m waiting to see what kind of human-feline language interpreter they bring in so Sal can follow the court proceedings. & if licking his butt in the jury box causes an uproar & calls for a mistrial by the defense.
I’m not worried about jury tampering—opposing counsel could bribe him with cans of tuna & catnip mice all day long. Any self-respecting cat would accept the tribute & do whatever he damn well pleased anyhow.
So maybe this is an improvement over biped juries?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Driven to distraction
We’re experiencing a long spell of wet weather; not much of a surprise. What is odd is the fact that Seattleites don’t seem to be able to drive in the rain.
I mean, they’re mean, selfish & idiotic drivers in fair weather; the worst I’ve run across in three continents & all the lower 48 states. Their specialty is waiting until the last possible minute to get into the exit/merge lane. (To the point that, on highways where traffic is moving at 50-60 mph, they come to a complete STOP while trying to squeeze into the 15 mph traffic exiting onto another highway. Even buses do this. In fact, I was run off the road once by a semi whose driver had waited until the last minute to get onto the exit ramp, where I happened to be, & he just pulled over with complete disregard for that whole physics law about two objects not being able to occupy the same space at the same time.)
They do the same thing conversely, too: when entering the highway they stay in the merge lane until they run out of room & then swoop into traffic. Because that way, of course, they can get two or three cars ahead of where they’d be if they drove reasonably.
In fact, sometimes they swerve into the merge lane from main traffic that’s obviously moving too slowly for them, speed a couple of car lengths ahead & then barge back in.
& don’t even get me started about driving & talking on mobile phones.
None of that changes when it’s pissing down rain—they’re still as irresponsible as ever. It’s as though they think they’re immortal.
What I’ve also noticed—and this boggles the mind—is that no one feels obliged to turn their headlights on in the rain, making their shenanigans all the more dangerous. Evidently it’s not an actual law in this benighted state—in Virginia, if your wipers are on your lights have to be, too. Because, you know, it’s harder to see things the rain.
I checked the Washington state driving laws. They suggest that you turn on your lights in the rain, but don’t require it. (They also suggest that you turn on your lights when it starts getting dark & keep them on until it’s turned light, even though the actual law is turn them on 30 minutes after sunset & off 30 minutes before sunrise.)
I’d like to know what accident statistics are in this hole; but I know that I drive in a constant stream of adrenaline trying to anticipate what boneheaded thing the morons around me are going to pull next. Fair weather or no, their driving’s foul.
I mean, they’re mean, selfish & idiotic drivers in fair weather; the worst I’ve run across in three continents & all the lower 48 states. Their specialty is waiting until the last possible minute to get into the exit/merge lane. (To the point that, on highways where traffic is moving at 50-60 mph, they come to a complete STOP while trying to squeeze into the 15 mph traffic exiting onto another highway. Even buses do this. In fact, I was run off the road once by a semi whose driver had waited until the last minute to get onto the exit ramp, where I happened to be, & he just pulled over with complete disregard for that whole physics law about two objects not being able to occupy the same space at the same time.)
They do the same thing conversely, too: when entering the highway they stay in the merge lane until they run out of room & then swoop into traffic. Because that way, of course, they can get two or three cars ahead of where they’d be if they drove reasonably.
In fact, sometimes they swerve into the merge lane from main traffic that’s obviously moving too slowly for them, speed a couple of car lengths ahead & then barge back in.
& don’t even get me started about driving & talking on mobile phones.
None of that changes when it’s pissing down rain—they’re still as irresponsible as ever. It’s as though they think they’re immortal.
What I’ve also noticed—and this boggles the mind—is that no one feels obliged to turn their headlights on in the rain, making their shenanigans all the more dangerous. Evidently it’s not an actual law in this benighted state—in Virginia, if your wipers are on your lights have to be, too. Because, you know, it’s harder to see things the rain.
I checked the Washington state driving laws. They suggest that you turn on your lights in the rain, but don’t require it. (They also suggest that you turn on your lights when it starts getting dark & keep them on until it’s turned light, even though the actual law is turn them on 30 minutes after sunset & off 30 minutes before sunrise.)
I’d like to know what accident statistics are in this hole; but I know that I drive in a constant stream of adrenaline trying to anticipate what boneheaded thing the morons around me are going to pull next. Fair weather or no, their driving’s foul.
2009 redux
I’m a bit behind times with this, but considering the way 2010 is starting out, it’s a good thing to look back at last year through Dave Barry’s microscope.
I’ve always admired Barry’s perspective & his writing. It just about broke my heart when he left his syndicated column to start writing children’s books. So any scraps of his zaniness is balm to the soul.
I’ve always admired Barry’s perspective & his writing. It just about broke my heart when he left his syndicated column to start writing children’s books. So any scraps of his zaniness is balm to the soul.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
The unreadables
In keeping with my previous post about which books I cleared out for the new year, here’s a post hoc rationale from ABE Books, where I alternate my book-buying dollars when not direct-depositing to Amazon. The reasons are interesting to me.
Number 1 is tied to number 5; “classics” are pretty much automatic “shoulds”. And frequently with number 4. Enormous isn’t automatically a show-stopper for me, although combining “enormous” with “novel” turns me off. I have no problem whatsoever with ponderous tomes of history or biography—although the current trend of having end notes instead of footnotes drives me nuts.
I've been told I'm the only person in the history of the world to take a thick history hardback to read on the beach in Saint Martin. Not sure about that, but my idea of an airplane read is more Dante than Dan Brown.
Number 3 isn’t too much of an influencer for me. I do get interested in a book after reading a review in the WSJ, Washington Post or LA Times, but lately I’ve taken to seeing if the library has them and going that route. I will admit that I have returned several I pursued in the past year without finishing them, so that was definitely beneficial to my budget and shelf space.
Number 6—okay, so my stack has kind of imitated Topsy. I’ve got about nine waiting now, including Joe Queenan’s memoir about life with his abusive father. I know it’ll be well written; I just have to steel myself to get into it. Right now I’m delving into La Bella Lingua, with The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society—both Christmas gifts. The former is, as you would deduce, about Italian; the latter an epistolary novel. Then there’s Leslie Caron’s memoir and The Blackout Book…well, you get the drift
I just have to keep away from the book review pages and work assiduously on my stack.
Numbers 7 and 10 aren’t applicable; I don’t spend a whole lot of time in actual shops any more (except on Charing Cross Road in London), nor do I know anyone who works in one.
Also, since I’m not in class or a reading club, I don’t have to worry about number 9.
As for number 8, well—while knowing someone’s a good writer helps filter the purchase, it’s the subject matter that usually entices.
And since most of these reasons are clearly geared to fiction, they’re all a big N/A, since I find a lot of the stuff annoying and the ones I do like (detective stories) I usually get from the library.
I will say that when I was clearing out last week the biggest pile of discards were novels. probably 80% were “never going to read again”; the rest were “oh, pooh—life’s to short to even think about this one.”
It’s quite liberating, actually.
Number 1 is tied to number 5; “classics” are pretty much automatic “shoulds”. And frequently with number 4. Enormous isn’t automatically a show-stopper for me, although combining “enormous” with “novel” turns me off. I have no problem whatsoever with ponderous tomes of history or biography—although the current trend of having end notes instead of footnotes drives me nuts.
I've been told I'm the only person in the history of the world to take a thick history hardback to read on the beach in Saint Martin. Not sure about that, but my idea of an airplane read is more Dante than Dan Brown.
Number 3 isn’t too much of an influencer for me. I do get interested in a book after reading a review in the WSJ, Washington Post or LA Times, but lately I’ve taken to seeing if the library has them and going that route. I will admit that I have returned several I pursued in the past year without finishing them, so that was definitely beneficial to my budget and shelf space.
Number 6—okay, so my stack has kind of imitated Topsy. I’ve got about nine waiting now, including Joe Queenan’s memoir about life with his abusive father. I know it’ll be well written; I just have to steel myself to get into it. Right now I’m delving into La Bella Lingua, with The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society—both Christmas gifts. The former is, as you would deduce, about Italian; the latter an epistolary novel. Then there’s Leslie Caron’s memoir and The Blackout Book…well, you get the drift
I just have to keep away from the book review pages and work assiduously on my stack.
Numbers 7 and 10 aren’t applicable; I don’t spend a whole lot of time in actual shops any more (except on Charing Cross Road in London), nor do I know anyone who works in one.
Also, since I’m not in class or a reading club, I don’t have to worry about number 9.
As for number 8, well—while knowing someone’s a good writer helps filter the purchase, it’s the subject matter that usually entices.
And since most of these reasons are clearly geared to fiction, they’re all a big N/A, since I find a lot of the stuff annoying and the ones I do like (detective stories) I usually get from the library.
I will say that when I was clearing out last week the biggest pile of discards were novels. probably 80% were “never going to read again”; the rest were “oh, pooh—life’s to short to even think about this one.”
It’s quite liberating, actually.
Monday, January 4, 2010
God help us
Ah, Jesus, Mary and Joseph—a new blasphemy law has gone into effect this week in Ireland. If reports of its provisions are accurate it’s hard to find anything more open to challenges, litigation and outrage than this crack-brained thing.
It seems “anything abusive” to any religion can put you in line for hefty fines. That covers a lot of territory. Just think: the usual Muslims affronted by pretty much everything, fundamentalist Christians waxing wrath over anything that doesn’t conform to the sections of the Bible they endorse, Druids rising up over anti-tree remarks, Haredim pissed off at anyone working on the Sabbath, and me—I think anyone who even mentions the concept of animal sacrifice should be removed from the gene pool immediately; forget any poxy fine.
How on earth is anyone not going to be fined $35K for something with a law like that? Libraries have got to be in for torching—even in that most Catholic of countries. (Sean O’Casey and Brendan Behan alone are on the hit list. And forget James Joyce.) For certain sure, no stand-up comic is going to survive the first five minutes of a gig.
Thank God for the atheists—specifically, the Atheist Ireland group. They’ve published a New Year’s starter list of blasphemous quotations to get everyone’s bile flowing. The vast preponderance of their quotes are Christian focused; probably had to draw the line at some number people would actually, you know, read.
We’ll have to see how this plays out. I’d like to keep track of how many people are charged under the law, but I don’t think anyone has that much time available to waste.
Except apparently the Irish government.
Can I call them putzes without risking a year’s worth of mortgage payments? What if I call them religiously-stunted putzes?
It seems “anything abusive” to any religion can put you in line for hefty fines. That covers a lot of territory. Just think: the usual Muslims affronted by pretty much everything, fundamentalist Christians waxing wrath over anything that doesn’t conform to the sections of the Bible they endorse, Druids rising up over anti-tree remarks, Haredim pissed off at anyone working on the Sabbath, and me—I think anyone who even mentions the concept of animal sacrifice should be removed from the gene pool immediately; forget any poxy fine.
How on earth is anyone not going to be fined $35K for something with a law like that? Libraries have got to be in for torching—even in that most Catholic of countries. (Sean O’Casey and Brendan Behan alone are on the hit list. And forget James Joyce.) For certain sure, no stand-up comic is going to survive the first five minutes of a gig.
Thank God for the atheists—specifically, the Atheist Ireland group. They’ve published a New Year’s starter list of blasphemous quotations to get everyone’s bile flowing. The vast preponderance of their quotes are Christian focused; probably had to draw the line at some number people would actually, you know, read.
We’ll have to see how this plays out. I’d like to keep track of how many people are charged under the law, but I don’t think anyone has that much time available to waste.
Except apparently the Irish government.
Can I call them putzes without risking a year’s worth of mortgage payments? What if I call them religiously-stunted putzes?
Sunday, January 3, 2010
New year clear-out
It being the new year and all (new decade, as the media would have us believe), I decided it was time to do a bit of a clean-out.
I’ve been culling clothes I haven’t worn for years, as well as ones that I can’t hold up without suspenders. We’re talking several mid-sized moving cartons of those.
There’s also a lot of linens and kitchenware. Again—stuff I haven’t used since long before I moved West.
But also books. Went through the collection & culled about 200-250. While 250 is about 5% of the whole, it did open space for any volumes I find I can't live without in 2010.
The fiction was the easiest; a lot of stuff I’m not going to either read or reread—The Raj Quartet, Conrad, Tolstoy, Miller’s Tropics, Twain, even Joe Wambaugh. To tell you the truth, it doesn't really hurt to let go of fiction; it represents less than 25% of my collection anyhow.
Also, I took a machete to my detective fiction, which is a bit of a first. Cleared out PD James, Reginald Hill, Elizabeth George and some others. Kept Allingham, Christie, Marsh, Crispin, Sayers, Tey and Hillerman. Those I can read again.
A bunch of business and technology went too, including my C programming texts. Does anyone even use C anymore?
I culled all the museum art books I got for being a member of the Smithsonian; but kept all the photography, fashion, architecture and arts books.
Several cookery books went, although I couldn’t part with Julia Child, the Great Meals in Minutes series (even the “minutes” is a gross underestimate of the actual time required) or the books from World War II.
In fact, the one category I couldn’t touch was history—four bookcases of those, and every one absolutely necessary. A girl’s gotta know her limitations.
If you’re thinking about thinning your collection, here are some suggestions from those with strong connections to books. I read them after I was done updating my inventory, but they may prove helpful to you.
Now my problem is finding a charity here that will actually come out to collect donations instead of expecting you to deliver to them.
I’ve been culling clothes I haven’t worn for years, as well as ones that I can’t hold up without suspenders. We’re talking several mid-sized moving cartons of those.
There’s also a lot of linens and kitchenware. Again—stuff I haven’t used since long before I moved West.
But also books. Went through the collection & culled about 200-250. While 250 is about 5% of the whole, it did open space for any volumes I find I can't live without in 2010.
The fiction was the easiest; a lot of stuff I’m not going to either read or reread—The Raj Quartet, Conrad, Tolstoy, Miller’s Tropics, Twain, even Joe Wambaugh. To tell you the truth, it doesn't really hurt to let go of fiction; it represents less than 25% of my collection anyhow.
Also, I took a machete to my detective fiction, which is a bit of a first. Cleared out PD James, Reginald Hill, Elizabeth George and some others. Kept Allingham, Christie, Marsh, Crispin, Sayers, Tey and Hillerman. Those I can read again.
A bunch of business and technology went too, including my C programming texts. Does anyone even use C anymore?
I culled all the museum art books I got for being a member of the Smithsonian; but kept all the photography, fashion, architecture and arts books.
Several cookery books went, although I couldn’t part with Julia Child, the Great Meals in Minutes series (even the “minutes” is a gross underestimate of the actual time required) or the books from World War II.
In fact, the one category I couldn’t touch was history—four bookcases of those, and every one absolutely necessary. A girl’s gotta know her limitations.
If you’re thinking about thinning your collection, here are some suggestions from those with strong connections to books. I read them after I was done updating my inventory, but they may prove helpful to you.
Now my problem is finding a charity here that will actually come out to collect donations instead of expecting you to deliver to them.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Staff of life
It’s with great sadness that I report the WSJ’s wine columnists, Dorothy J. Gaiter Brecher and John Brecher, are hanging up their little tasting cups.
They don’t say why, but they do go out on a high: their list of delicious finds in 2009.
They also leave us with some wine resolutions for 2010. I especially like #3, take a wine trip. After spending two weeks in France—with wine not the focus, yet still playing a great part—I heartily recommend spending at least a day in pursuit of a wine adventure.
On the above-mentioned trip, I had lunch at a café across from the Tour Saint Jacques, what’s left of the church that was the official starting point for medieval pilgrims bound for Santiago de Compostela. On my original trip 30 years ago, I’d stumbled onto the tower accidentally, then made sure to tag it on my way out to Santiago on my bicycle.
On two subsequent trips I found it again without intending to, & each time had a coffee in this café, so I wanted to reconnect this time.
It was a grey, rainy, cold Sunday afternoon, a good day to be inside watching the world. A good day for onion soup. An excellent day for Champagne.
They don’t say why, but they do go out on a high: their list of delicious finds in 2009.
They also leave us with some wine resolutions for 2010. I especially like #3, take a wine trip. After spending two weeks in France—with wine not the focus, yet still playing a great part—I heartily recommend spending at least a day in pursuit of a wine adventure.
On the above-mentioned trip, I had lunch at a café across from the Tour Saint Jacques, what’s left of the church that was the official starting point for medieval pilgrims bound for Santiago de Compostela. On my original trip 30 years ago, I’d stumbled onto the tower accidentally, then made sure to tag it on my way out to Santiago on my bicycle.
On two subsequent trips I found it again without intending to, & each time had a coffee in this café, so I wanted to reconnect this time.
It was a grey, rainy, cold Sunday afternoon, a good day to be inside watching the world. A good day for onion soup. An excellent day for Champagne.
So that's what I had for lunch.
That’s one of the things I love about France. It’s always time for Champagne.
(I did have the soup, too, in case anyone’s concerned.)
So my idea of heaven would be a week in Champagne, trying all types of Champagne; possibly with some food to accompany it, too.
It'll help me weather the loss of Dorothy and John.
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