Sunday, July 25, 2010

Magic Numbers

The number I am looking forward to discussing with you is 119.

Unfortunately, I have other numbers in my head.  Like 500.  As in mg.  And a new word, "paracétamo."  Life isn't always romantic in Paris.

Not sure if this what son the elder had in mind when he wanted us to behave more "naturally."  I know it isn't what son the younger wanted--he is the one who first caught the bug.  And was pretty misérable about having done so in Paris.  (I'm pretty sure he got it from the older dude one row ahead of them on the plane, who was snorfling and coughing and honking...with honking being the only thing he bothered to capture.)

So, I spent a day reading, among other things, about LSD as psychiatric treatment in 1950's Hollywood.  Which of course resulted with the necessary reference to "Go Ask Alice" getting all tangled up in my head with my translation of dosages in French: une pill renre vous what?  Then, relying on said son to figure out dosage for his weight...made me have odd thoughts like "why can't I be sick in Barcelona?"

Je suis désolé.  Oops, no, wait, can't use that; that is what son the younger thought to say when for some reason the card reader at the Monoprix wouldn't comprehend our credit card.  What, karmic payback?  It doesn't speak my bank's language?  Ha! Universal comedy in a magnetic strip!!  Anyway, son the younger and I emptied our pockets, and managed to find the full amount in cash.  Lots of smiles and such exchanged, but when I heard him say "désolé" to the clerk, I knew it was just...comical.

Anyway, lest I leave the impression that I have been completely bumbling my way through this lovely city, I share with you once again that magic number.  119.  Which I will speak fully once I have safely returned.

Must to respect la voudou, you know.  Who do?  I do.  Even in Paris.

Maybe doing so will help with the cold.

Or perhaps the older dude from 36B is feeling a prickle of désolé, whether he knows why or not.


La Bonne Vivante said...

you remind me of the babe. What babe? The babe with the power. What power? the power of Paris? Parents? Paris.Oh, Je suis desole...

sorry you're sick. Was the LSD article in Vanity Fair perchance? I read that yesterday as well.. What a trip!

Josephine said...

I am once again up to speed on your posts, for which I must have a cup of coffee and time to absorb your thoughtful and artistic writing.

Your sickness will fade as a blip on the radar of your Paris stay. I am quite green with envy.


flittersniffer said...

I think you may have a fever...

: - )

Bonne récupération!

ScentScelf said...

Ah, BV, you too have seen movies whose first prints were crumbling before you were even born. :)

Yes indeed, that is the article I was reading. VF=must have for vacation, in my periodical stash. It's like People for folks with time. And more vocabulary. But equal, if not more pronounced, prurient tendencies.

Which is to say, I read it for the articles. The exposés, especially. The JOURNALISTIC exposés. Sheesh.

Thanks for making me smile, even in my compromised state. :)

ScentScelf said...


Nice to see you here again! Thank you so much for the kind words.

Green with envy? Perhaps I will need to try absinthe when next I venture out... ;)

ScentScelf said...


Ha. :)

It is hard to tell sometimes; as you well know, I can work into a fevered pitch without the aid of an elevated white blood cell count.