2 Exhausted 2 Write Newsletter Archive
Eeyore from
" ? "
"This writing business. Pencils and whatnot. Overrated, if you ask me."
Sunday, 31 October 1999
I am tired. And not just because of daylight savings time change.
[The Bourse Brocante Market displayed signs advertising a 3,500-dealer Brocante Market on 31-10-99 at the Vincennes Hippodrome (horse racetrack)] We found the Hippodrome Vincennes. (The Italian couple at the bus stop was also bound for the Brocante Mart as was everybody else on the standing-room-only bus.) Had already walked miles before the 3,500 booths. I'm tired.
[It was First-Monday-Trading-Days in Canton, Texas except I didn't speak the language; traded in francs; there were cigarettes everywhere; one was bumped constantly; and when one was bumped one rarely heard "Pardon" or "Excusez moi." Before you label that rude, let me express the conclusion I came to (and the attitude I myself sometimes exhibited) after three weeks...Americans' "Sorry"s and "Pardon me"s are rarely sincere. It's a knee-jerk response we've been trained into like the "We'll be seeing you" good-bye Jack ---- said last night. Like that's gonna happen? American polite responses aren't given thought (One's response is expected to be "fine" when asked how one is doing, and despite injury, death in the family, heartbreak, it's usually one's answer). So if French people are rude, Americans are liars or insincere. An alternative theory is that French history has created the French people and how would a species survive French history without the attitude I call the FourGets: Get a grip; Get a life; Get over it; Get going. My attitude toward whiners and complainers has always been FourGet on With It. And I get that from my Grampa, although French lineage is from my biological grandmother, Violet LaPreal. However, my aptly-named Gramma Grace has the same grip on me as she kept on Grampa: She was gentle and smiling but if we weren't gracious to others she might just have to snatch us bald-headed. So despite my theories and attitudes I'm quite quick with the "Sorry"s and "Pardon me"s!]
Watching over "its table" at the Hippodrome was a Yorkie. I wish I'd taken its picture.
And an empty gallon size Shalimar perfume bottle. One empty vintage Shalimar bottle followed me to two other flea markets. I recognized it by its chip; the box it inhabited with other perfume bottles; and its lack of price tag. The dealer was always too busy to ask to answer my "C'est combien s'il vous plâit?" questionnaire notepad, and I was put off by the prices of other goods there. However whenever I walked away from that vintage Shalimar bottle I would say to Alan "Somewhere Suzy is suffering excruciating pain. She doesn't know why, but she's in pain at this very moment!"
Out in the Hippodrome parking lot, I – as one of four living LaPreals in the family – bought a cursive "L" imprint block. As it was with monogrammed linens, it may be used for monogram embroidery as it doesn't look like any printing block I've seen.
![Old camera, middle-aged photographer [in mirror] at the Hippodrome Vincennes Brocante Market.](http://www.disaster-area.org/weis/fhcamera.jpg)
There was a $100 rocking horse tricycle that cried to go home with me. I cried, too.
Bought a small wind-up clock for $5, a brass hands belt for less than that, and a green glass vase for Mom.
Next to the horse stalls we did buy four knives with six spoons for 70F [=$11.50. We didn't need the spoons, but I couldn't bear to break up the matching design found amongst the mish-mash of flatware. I discarded six close-but-not-quite spoons there because there was no heartbreak in breaking up the "set." If only I'd taken our Grenelle spoon out of the pack...those spoons didn't quite match the knives we bought, but they were an exact match for the dozen spoons and forks and ladle we were buying the knives for. Aiiiiiiiiiigghh!!!!]
Inside the betting building we bought 10 absolutely fabulous knives for 300F
[I balked at the $49 price, but Alan had gotten into the spirit of things and was driven to supply our children/grandchildren with a serviceable, if not identically matched, flatware set from Paris; or he really got into my idea of feeding his dad from this humongous-soupspoon-set from now on.
I bought two French books just to show ole Kramér a thing or two:
Enjoyed the tops of the Château de Vincennes. Enjoyed pretty yellow and orange leaves in the Bois de Vincennes -- the Vincennes Wood.
Have no idea regarding the brawl in the RER D station at Gare de Lyon. Nor do I know why it would shut down the line. Sure hope four girls don't attack an Emil Cross-ish dude when we're on our way to Charles de Gaulle Aéroport on Tuesday. Sure am glad it didn't happen on our way from Charles de Gaulle Aéroport. With no food, no sleep, and "no reservations" it would've taken me a week to recover.
We stopped by the St-Denis Basilique to buy postcards of the place; dropped off our new old flatware and other treasures; then lit off to take the métro to the Duroc station to see Tea and Tattered Pages.
One expects a book shoppe with doilies, Victorian birdcages and genteel ladies who smell of lavender; one gets a quaint hole in the wall with lots of truly tattered English paperbacks, vinyl tablecloths, a guy's guy English-speaking owner – and a rusting birdcage.
Alan says a guy sitting across from us on the métro was rolling heroin-laced cigarettes. He doesn't recognize a prostitute, but he knows heroin when he sees it?
Métroed to the Greek Quarter to visit 
Shakespeare & Co. What a library upstairs! What a Vertigan staircase! Aiiiigghh! They do have a computer on the premises of this completely mossgrown, disorganized, adorable English bookstore across from Notre-Dame de Paris. This computer is in an appropriate dark, tiny, cramped cell/cave 4X4X4' cubicle. 
The elderly owner – straight from a PBS Mystery Theatre production – said he'd offer us a bed to sleep in except he was full for the night. He did have a lot of beds around the upstairs library and many lit up windows in the upper stories and a detailed head count of who'd come in that day and where they were from. He was sweet. He talked a tad tottery and his clothing was from the Eccentric Arterial Flow line. If he hadn't been the owner (for 50 years) you'd think he was a dapper hobo. [At the Shakespeare & Co. link you can hear a RealPlayer interview with George Whitman, owner of Shakespeare & Co. as he takes you through the tour of the shop and apartments."]
We bought a children's book about barnyard animals and a wolf just to get the Shakespeare & Co stamp in it. We asked the assistant if he'd stamp our passports, too [Customs? Borders? Stamps? Where? Where? You have to beg to get your passport stamped.]. He said he'd never stamped a passport before and it made him feel important. He also stamped two note cards and sent them with us to "tell a friend." [I'm telling you. The note card says in part: "Largest stock of antiquarian English books on the continent...We wish our guests to enter with the feeling they have inherited a booklined apartment on the Seine which is all the more delightful because they share it with others."]
We ate a 25F Grec extra at a shop that had tables on the sidewalk. We sat next to two "Star Wars" fans who had apparently been to some sort of convention or auction. They were quite pleased comparing souvenirs.
Stopped at a used CD/bookstore where I found the perfect tattered Racine novel ["Andromaque." OK OK OK "Phèdre" would have been most perfect.] for my Sarah collage; a 1935 edition of Alphonse Daudet's "Lettres de Mon Moulin" – 3F/$.50; and, Molière's "Le Malade Imaginaire" -- ironically, the one he died performing. Hey Kramér! Pbbbbbbbllllltttt!!!!!!!!!!
Alan says a guy sitting across from us on the métro was rolling heroin-laced cigarettes. He doesn't recognize a prostitute, but he knows heroin when he sees it?
["Gigi" is one of my favorite musicals –
somewhere right now my "Film: Art, Form, and Criticism" professors, Drs. Andrew Woolley and Bob Mendenhall are suffering excruciating pain --
and the instrumental interlude shot at night in front of Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux's 1873 Fontaine de l'Observatoire is one of my favorite cinematic moments...
somebody ask Drs. Woolley and Mendenhall if they want a double funeral.]
Was very disappointed to find the "Gigi" fountain [Fontaine de l'Observatoire] dark, dry, and the park around it closed for the night. I had my black tube dress on underneath my angora duster. Unable to pose in front of the fountain I took off my duster, put on my black opera gloves and posed in front of the nearby Charles Garnier monument. ‘Twas not the same, but still fun. Especially on Halloween Night.
Our RER train home raced another train at 60 mph +- with perhaps 18 inches between them. Then our train dumped us at Stade de France and reversed direction. Had to wait in the cold for quite a while. "RER" sounds like the French word for buttocks but sans "D" – erriere.
[I want to co-author with Véronique a pocket guidebook to the Paris métro/RER system: "Why'd They Name the Station That and How the Blazes Do You Pronounce it?" I mean, yes, I finally saw an homage to Guy Moquet at the Guy Moquet station – but it was en français!! Why was Guy Moquet important and – Véronique – how do you pronounce his name? Alan didn't even blink when I mentioned the idea. If there was such a book I'd buy it. It'd would be a lot easier!
For example: The Musee d'Orsay had an exhibition on Theo Van Gogh: I told Alan I'd wanted to write a historical novel/homage to Johanna Van Gogh, because I believe Theo was as responsible for Vincent's work as Vincent was; and Johanna Van Gogh is more responsible for our exposure to Vincent's work than anyone. Really, if not for Johanna, Vincent's sister-in-law, no one would know who Vincent Van Gogh was. Well...somebody already wrote the book...and I bought it. Takes a lot less time!]
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Alpha's Quadrant
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Daddydom
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The Wild
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CLCW
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Sarah Bernhardt
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Motherhood and Housewifery
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Scribble scribble
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Thought Spot
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Nikki & Kilory
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Ballerinas
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I think I can I think I can
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Hundred Acre Wood
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Barney and Freud Tour Vienna
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Celebrating the Seasons
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BB Guns and Frozen Tongues
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Films vs. Movies
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The Nutcracker and the Mouse King
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2 Exhausted 2 Write Newsletter Archive
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Xeriscopic Butterfly Gardening
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Butterfly Gardening for Dimmies
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The Neglectful Gardener
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Antique Roses
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Garden Xeriscaping & Gramma
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Gloomy Grumpy Pawpaw
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Teddy Bear Wars
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Pawpaw vs. The Squirrels
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Pinching Pennies 'til Lincoln Screams
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Dandelion Appreciation
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Virtual Tea Party
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Whoville
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Green Eggs & Hams
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The Zoo
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Chocolate
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101 Reasons to Hate Young Skinny Women
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The Biscuit of Ally McBeal
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Green Gables in My Garden
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Antiques/Brocante/ Junque
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I love Paris in the Springtime
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Like Cats & Dogs
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Hedgehogs
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The Belfry
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Helen's Yellow Brick Road
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Friend Links
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Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
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The Galaxy Song
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Looney Camelot
* Cathedral Guardians
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Gorey Q
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Donald and The...
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The Doubtful Guest
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Book of Practical Cats
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Greatpa
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Photos
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Family History & Photos
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Civil War Diary of G. T. Granger
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Wes Stoops Memorial
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Love Letter to Gramma
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Diana's Life Lessons
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Jesus Wants Me for a Sunflower
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