Three weeks now in Paris and we haven’t been to a bistro or a restaurant . It’s been too cold for me to sit out on the sidewalk and I’m not up to going inside , either , to sit at a tight little table to sip a beer or to nurse a coffee or to eat a meal .
We’ve been preparing meals in the apartment , mostly stews , always with a fresh baguette . I walk down to the little bakery two or three minutes away . They know me by now , that English-speaking guy who gets a baguette and once in awhile a couple of croissants. Ada usually cooks for us , but today I made meatballs and fondant potatoes . It’s supposed to be finished in the oven but I couldn’t figure out the controls on this French oven so I had to improvise and do the whole thing on the stovetop burner .
My laptop decided to give me a problem yesterday . The cursor didn’t show up for work . I tried a few combinations of buttons , Fn and F this or F that , but nothing worked . Re-booting usually works to solve problems , but not this time .
I had decided to hunt for a mouse today and see if I could use that instead of the old disappeared cursor . I was all ready . Determined . I decided to start the laptop up for one more try , though . Kind of magical thinking , since I had messed around with it so much last night , turning it off and on again and pushing combinations of buttons with absolutely no results . They say miracles do happen , but none last night .
When I restarted the thing today that old cursor had again shown up . I may have hit another combination of buttons , and if I did I stumbled upon the magic formula . Anyway , it did surprise me . I think it knew that I was determined to replace it , maybe permanently , with a mouse . On the other hand , maybe it just needed a day off . Okay . Everyone needs time off now and again .
We walked the dog up to Sacre Coeur today because there is a dog park there . The other dogs were not very active , however . None of them wanted to run or to play tag , and the wind was cold , so fairly soon we decided to leave . We wandered through Montmartre and looked for an artist friend who used to go up there and sketch tourists ; but he wasn’t there .
We got lost on the way back . That’s easy to do in Paris , because the roads head off at angles and we are unfamiliar with the city . The locals are happy to offer us help , often looking places up on the GPS on their phones . Many of them speak English but even if they don’t they try to help . Their friendliness defies the old stereotypical reputation of the French toward Americans . Maybe they all decided to change their attitudes or maybe our stereotype was wrong all the time . I’ll let the historians , as they say , make that judgement.