I wonder how you sing the Bounty jingle in French ...

This is what happens when I run errands. I take pictures of Mr. Clean (Mr. Propre, excuse me) living out his double life in France.

And then I forget to buy honey. Cuuuuuurses.

Benny Strikes Back, Return of the Benny, A New Benny?

Flashback ... The other day Julien and Maxime discovered Benny in my purse, where he has spent the last few months languishing (since Potter gave him back to me and told me to make it good).

Lucky, too, since the boys have better ideas than I do. For you, Potter (and everyone else, too).

Benny in his new digs.

His château.

Recreating that memorable scene from Titanic ... On a pirate ship?

Just chilling in his new wheels with his ... homies? I suppose homo sapiens isn't the term.

View from the Window.

With his new friends ...

Being eaten by a lion ... BEING EATEN BY A LION ?!

And threatened by a pirate.

Bringing about world peace, negotiating a truce (or finding a common enemy. I told them his name is Dave).

I'm sure there will be more here and there ...

Sydney is my hero. The end.

So roughly a month ago Sydney responded to my anguished cries for peanut butter, but accidentally wrote the wrong postal code. The French postal service needed roughly three weeks to figure out what she meant to say, and then wouldn't let me have my package until I gave them my passport. Jerks.

WORTH THE WAIT.

Yup, you saw correctly. I have an apple, a spoon, and a jar of peanut butter. That's a wrap.

I think I'll just eat this for the next week. Or until it's gone.

Amsterdam

After my Swiss Adventure, I spent a fun weekend in Amsterdam (Thank you, Europe, for helping to counteract my American sense of the distance between neighboring countries).

We stayed in a hotel in the Leidseplein. Saturday we passed this building, whose name made me laugh, on our way to the Rijksmuseum.

In front of the Rijksmuseum was the one, the only: A REAL AMERICAN HOTDOG stand. I did not indulge. I guess we could call this cultural imperialism.

In wandering at night, we discovered that this bar was right near the hotel (the pictures I took of the huge neon sign didn't come out, I was bummed). The neon sign said, in bright red, "Three Sisters Grand Pub." BAHAHAHAHAHA.

On Sunday we saw a concert at the major concert hall, the Concertgebouw. It's a beautiful concert hall, and in addition to a moderny thing (Manneke) they played Beethoven's Third. Love that one, especially the first movement. After that we went to the Van Gogh museum, and took a boat cruise through the canals (we passed the Anne Frank house, but I can't swear to having seen which one it really was).

Amsterdam Centraal on our way out of town. The weather was beautiful and sunny ... And FRIGID. Or maybe I've just forgotten what it feels like to actually be cold. Might be that.

I really liked Amersterdam, although it was nice to come back to Paris. Not that it has ever been anything but.

Skiing at Verbier

View from one of the peaks at Verbier ... I took the craziest lift of my life - A big box that can hold 150 people standing with their gear. Oh, and it like, SWINGS over the last crest. Mini-heart attack.

Partway down the slopes ...

View from the balcony of the 'chalet' we were staying in! Not nearly as snowy as you'd think, which is because they haven't had a real snow since December (apparently those snowstorms hit the US instead).

From the 'télécabine' (gondola) on my way down to the train station ...

Sometimes it was a bit steep ...

Like dropping off a cliff steep.

Regional trains, weaving through the Alps ... From Le Châble to Martigny to Lausanne to Geneva to Paris. Pheeeeeew.

Pretty pretty.

For you, Gennie. Vevey is its own station.

Swiss Miss ain't got NOTHING on me.

Welcome to the Swiss Alps. I'm way higher now, so I'll try to get better pictures! Here until Friday.

And please tell me this movie has a better title in English ...

Disneyland Paris ...

It happened. I confess.

Minnie and Mickey, in PARIS!

Muscles.

A certain someone knows what my violin case means, and apparently me practicing the ugly sections of Elgar hasn't put him off. He came over, and (gesticulating furiously) addressed me. When I made no move to get my violin, he decided it was time to be more clear.

He continued to plead, and when this little face is asking, it's hard to say no.

Can I just point out that my violin case is not only bigger than he is, but probably weighs almost as much? That requires a certain level of motivation. I'm teaching him pizzicato, he thinks it's great!

Fine, close the 4 train. See if I care.

The other day I was trying to meet a friend for lunch, but some sort of problem made RATP shut down the 4 train. Finding myself suddenly "stranded" at Réaumur-Sepastopol, I decided to use the hour and a half before work to walk to work. I wandered until I caught up to the 9 train, and then followed it.

Hilarity ensued.

When you think of three cities with linked real estate markets, what do you think of?

Paris, Cannes, and ... Miami? Unless there's a Miami, France I don't know about, this just seems weird.

Better yet- Not only do I content myself with finding grammatical errors in signage in English, I can now find them in FRENCH. It reads 'Deliges,' but it SHOULD say 'Delices.' Somebody didn't have their glasses on.

Passageway between two buildings ... Reminded me of Diagon Alley, or just Harry Potter-ness in general.

Ghetto Victoria's Secret? Seriously? WHERE AM I?!

Personally, I think I'd be willing to spend more in a store called Armageddon, if only to say where I bought my things as much as possible. Besides, if they're right, I won't be needing to save my money anyway ...

Spectacles ... Diplomatie. I agree, diplomacy is rather a spectacle, isn't it?

All in a row. Near the Opéra Garnier. I proceeded to do a very Parisian [read: illegal] street crossing across some sort of roundabout-traffic circle thing. Oh well.

SO.SICK.OF.MICHAEL.JACKSON.

Almost at work, finally read this sign plate ... Thought it said Mayo Clinic. Cracked myself up. Airplane, anyone?

Hi, Barbie called -- She wants her car back. Awesome though. When I'm famous I'll get one, too.

REAL pancakes, thankyouverymuch.

So one night I decided I simply couldn't go on any longer -- Must.Have.Real.Pancakes. Mission: Pancakes was almost thwarted when I realized I needed eggs and bananas, but I stopped being lazy and went to the store.

Action shot!

The first one is never as good. Don't think that stopped me from devouring it though ... Pfffft, who do you think this is, anyway? Martha Stewart? Please.

Still life : See that bottle of 'imported from Canada' MAPLE SYRUP? I pretty much drink it all by itself, but I'll make an exception for chocolate chip-banana pancakes. Never mind the empty wine bottle in the background, it was just the warm-up apéritif.

I AM QUEEN OF THE PANCAKE-ON-CRAPPY-BURNER-MAKING! HEAR ME ROAR. Or just silently destroy this stack. I did, however, call my friend Diego in for reinforcement. You can't see here, but I neglected to account for the fact that the recipe I followed was meant for a family of four. WHOOOPS.