Paris Parfait

An extraordinary glimpse of ordinary objects

From Donald Macintyre's story in today's Independent, London:

"In themselves, they are worth nothing. But everyday objects take on a new meaning when something terrible happens to their owner, as a poignant exhibition in Tel Aviv shows.

"Whenever Nadette de Visser travels with her exhibition Objects in Conflict - and it has been shown in Amsterdam and Jerusalem already - she takes as much of it as possible in her hand baggage for a simple, if paradoxical, reason.

"On the one hand, these pieces are monetarily valueless and therefore uninsurable: a pair of spectacles; a cardboard, heart-shaped chocolate box; a woollen kippa; a rusty old key; a bottle of home-made wine; some half-decayed bars from a soap-factory; an embroidered cushion and a metal dog-tag of the sort worn by every Israeli soldier.

"Yet to their owners they are precious beyond price. What would his East Jerusalem Palestinian family say if Ms de Visser lost the running shoes owned by George Khoury, who was shot dead while out jogging by militants who thought he was an Israeli Jew? Or the Israeli reporter Erik Schecter, who was badly wounded in a suicide bombing while working for the Jerusalem Post, if the ripped leather jacket he keeps as a symbol of his survival, because he believes it saved his life, disappeared? Or the Palestinian lawyer Amram Bakr if he could never look again at the junior delegate's security pass which he wore at the 1991 Madrid peace conference and describes as his "most precious non-familiar object" because it "encompasses my hopes and my people's dreams."

"So Ms de Visser, a Dutch journalist and art historian who visited each of the owners to hear their stories, is even more careful with the objects that make up the exhibition, which opened yesterday at the Masa Aher-Geo Photo College in Tel Aviv, than if they were expensive paintings or sculptures. "I found that after people had let me have the objects for the exhibition, they kept phoning and e-mailing me to check they were all right," she says. "But then when they saw the exhibition they felt OK and stopped contacting me."

"By using the human and the particular to focus on the pain and the complexities of the conflict, the exhibition is an unashamed attempt to make those on each side empathise with the other. And it seems to work. "I thought both people on the Palestinian and Israeli sides would say you have shown too much of the other side," Ms de Visser says. "But that didn't happen."

EFF seeks to protect e-mail privacy

The United States government must have a search warrant before it can search and seize emails stored by email service providers, according to a brief filed last week by the San Francisco-based Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) and a coalition of civil liberty groups. The brief was filed to support a landmark district court decision that the federal Stored Communications Act (SCA) violates the Fourth Amendment by allowing secret, warrantless searches and seizures of email stored with a third party.

EFF's brief was filed in Warshak vs. United States, a federal court case in the Southern District of Ohio brought by Steven Warshak to stop the government's repeated secret searches and seizures of his stored email. The district court ruled that the government cannot use the SCA to obtain stored email without a warrant or prior notice to the email account holder. The government, which has routinely used the SCA over the past 20 years to secretly obtain stored email without a warrant, appealed the decision to the 6th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. That court is now primed to be the first circuit court ever to decide whether email users have a "reasonable expectation of privacy" in their stored email.

"Email users clearly expect that their inboxes are private, but the government argues the Fourth Amendment doesn't protect emails at all when they are stored with an ISP or a webmail provider like Hotmail or Gmail," said EFF Staff Attorney Kevin Bankston. "EFF disagrees. We think that the Fourth Amendment applies online just as strongly as it does offline, and that your email should be as safe against government intrusion as your phone calls, postal mail, or the private papers you keep in your home."

Fall in the Bois du Boulogne

We are lucky to live directly across the street from the largest park in Paris, the Bois du Boulogne. My husband took photos of fall's changing colours during a recent walk.

Horse-racing at Auteuil

In an event at Hippodrome Auteuil in Paris last weekend, one horse retained the lead throughout the race. In the photo below, a tired racehorse is hosed down.

Flea market finds

A table at the Puce des Vanves is laden with miscellaneous porcelain and curiosities. Note the gold brocade shoes with curled toe pieces, straight out of The Arabian Nights! Susan of Soozphotoz took this photo Sunday morning with her zoom lens, as taking pictures is taboo. Apparently, the stall holders are concerned about Japanese tourists taking pictures of items, then having reproductions made cheaply in Japan.

Old printers' letters purchased at the Antiquities Brocante at Place de Bastille and the flea market at Puces des Vanves. Fifteen "Bs" currently reside atop an old French mercantile cabinet with 18 drawers, mounted above my desk. I also found some letter "Ts" and old rubber stamps featuring initials in script. The letters purchased at Bastille were nearly ten times the price of those at the open-air Puces des Vanves - at the latter, there's no overhead for dealers.

This slim journal from the 1880s contains handwritten poetry and sonnets.

A modern bandbox covered with a reproduction of old paper, three metres of ribbon, a plaster angel, the aforementioned journal and two prayer missals were purchased at Puce des Vanves. The Messe de Mariage (marriage mass) pictured is brown leather, adorned with a silver ornament and lined in green silk moire. The Missel Romain from 1897 also is covered with brown leather and lined in Florentine paper. What do you look for at flea markets?

If these walls could talk...

"Brainstorm" oil and mixed media on wood panel by Randall LaGro, photo courtesy of the Blue Rain Gallery, Taos, New Mexico.

The Poetry Thursday prompt is "if these walls could talk." This poem is dedicated to the American and British soldiers who have lost their lives in Iraq, as well as the innocent Iraqis killed.

If these walls could talk, they'd tell
about the lies and despair
and unanswered prayers:

Impotent fury
when the Twin Towers fell
and so many died

Inertia and incompetence
as Hurricane Katrina devastated
a major port city

Delusion and denial
targeting Saddam Hussein
while bin Laden roams free

Delusion and denial
planning Rumsfeld's "shock and awe" war
despite no real evidence

Delusion and denial
when old friends and allies turn away
in disappointment and disgust

Delusion and denial
ignoring the Arab-Israeli conflict
while the region smoulders with rage

Delusion and denial
calling for Palestinian elections
but resisting voters' choice

Delusion and denial
when Israel and Hezbollah
sacrifice Lebanon as a battleground

Delusion and denial
while civil war divides Iraq
innocents slaughtered daily

Delusion and denial
as temperatures rise and icebergs melt
SOS signals of global warming

Delusion and denial
when supporters with feet of clay
fall by the wayside, charlatans exposed

Surprise, yet stubborn resolve
when the American people
protest and vote for change

If the Oval Office walls could talk...*

*(A few people might lose their jobs!)

Winter's Bone for December 3rd

Logo for Third Day Book Club and book covers, both US and European versions, for Winter's Bone.

Post amended Nov. 29 and 30 to include names of more participants

Now that everyone's enjoyed a Thanksgiving turkey - or at least a nice weekend - time to turn our attention to The Third Day Book Club's selection Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell. Twenty-one of us have agreed - at least in principle - to read and blog about the book. As it's less than 200 pages, even if you haven't had a chance to dive in, there's still time! Once you start reading, chances are you'll race through, the book is so compelling:

If you had a fleeting chance to escape a life of drudgery and poverty, of living hand-to-mouth in a closeknit rural community, would you take it? Or would you suppress your personal desires to stay and help secure a better life for your family?

These are some of the tough questions raised in Winter's Bone after 16-year-old Ree's father disappears, leaving her to care for her younger brothers, as well as an unbalanced mother. Worst of all, they're in danger of losing their house!

Besides the 21 participants listed below, any one else who wants to read the book and blog about it on December 3 is welcome! Simply post a review on your blog on Sunday, Dec. 3 and leave a comment for me with your link. It's easy! Or if you prefer, email the link to your piece and I'll post it here.

1. Patry Francis - Simply Wait (it's her bookclub, after all)
2. Sarala - Blogaway
3. Becca - Becca's Byline
4. Kristen - Sticking to the Point
5. Terri - Tinker Art
6. Awareness - Mayfair Place
7. Deborah - Jane Poe, Nevermore
8. Naturegirl - Nature Trail
9. Catherine - Still Standing on Her Head
10. Ally Bean - Crazy Dust in My Coffee
11. Maureen - Land of Little Rain
12. AnnieElf - Scenes from a Slow Moving Train
13. Lisa - Ocean Dreamer - Hand of Enchantment
14. Tara - Paris Parfait (uh, that would be me, your host)
15. Amishlaw - A Crockhead Abroad
16. Sophie - Courage my Love
17. Colleen - Loose Leaf Notes
18. Tarakuanyin - Tarakuanyin
19. Mai-wen - Mai-wen
20. M.G. Tarquini - M.G. Tarquini
21. Karen - Beyond Understanding

Hope you enjoy reading the book. Can't wait to hear what you think!

Grandmother's legacy

Photo of my late grandmother's sewing needles and wooden cases, one marked with a bit of silk moire fabric. The embroidered baby handkerchiefs were a French flea market find.

For One Deep Breath's legacy prompt, I want to tell you about my late grandmother, Lucille. She could sew like nobody's business. She could take one look at a photograph and make an almost identical garment. Considering that she had few resources for fabrics, notions, etc. in our small Southern town this was a remarkable achievement. Once she made a dress for me exactly like one on the cover of Seventeen magazine. When I was living in New York, she created an elegant dress like one in a photo torn from the designer pages of Vogue.

Grandmother made numerous other dresses and outfits for me, but the magical confections I treasured most were made not for me, but for my doll. One Christmas Grandmother made a beautiful wedding trousseau for my Barbie, complete with the finest, tiniest stitches and buttons and bows and ribbon details. She even made a satin and brocade wedding gown out of my aunt's wedding dress!

Grandmother was always resourceful, managing to devise amazing designs from whatever materials were on hand. After my little brothers had done their damage with my toys and dolls, I remember Grandmother taking the head from a favourite doll - named after my Aunt Sue - and fashioning a beautiful evening gown "pillow" so that it looked as if the doll were once again whole.

Grandmother took great pride in her appearance and sewed most of her own clothes, which were beautiful and elegant. She taught me the basics of sewing and she kept sewing until her eyesight faltered. By the time Jordana was born, Grandmother had suffered a series of strokes caused by diabetes. When I took Jordana to see her and said, "Grandmother, this is my baby," she exclaimed, "My, doesn't she have such pretty eyelashes!" Unfortunately, Grandmother died less than a year later. I miss her still.

While I can sew, my attempts would never do Grandmother's legacy justice. So I am thrilled that Jordana has inherited her exceptional sewing skills. Grandmother would have been proud.

These haiku are meant as one continuous poem:

Such beautiful things
my grandmother made with love,
a needle and thread.

If she had been French,
Chanel would have come calling;
great skill in her work.

No pattern needed
for that dress in the window
exacting eye knew

how to sew a dream
like the magazine's pages
for her granddaughter.

No fancy fabrics,
patterns or notions, just sheer
natural talent

Brilliant seamstress
creating the best garments
with few resources

other than her eyes,
skill with the sewing machine;
desire for beauty

to make a young girl
happy with a pretty dress
her friends would admire.

Legacy of love,
mantle of talent assured:
a great-granddaughter

using sewing skills
physics and flair for design
to carve a career.

Sunday in Paris

Bright fall mums spill from a circular row of large urns at the Luxembourg Gardens, Paris.

These men are regulars for Sunday afternoon boule games at the Luxembourg Gardens. They told me I should take photos of the next team, as they were "better players" - but not nearly as photogenic.

I spent most of the day with Susan of Soozphotoz and her belle mere Kate. We started off at the Puces de Vanves, where we found several curiosities and bargains, naturallement (more about that in another post). Susan and I discovered we were great shopping companions, taking our time to comb through boxes and baskets looking for elusive treasure. Then on to lunch at a lovely bistro near Montparnesse, before our afternoon sojourn in the Luxembourg Gardens, including Susan's annual pilgrimage to the Medici Fountain. Sadly, she's in Paris only a little longer - but we've already made plans for her next visit!

The master manipulator

Before the Storm painting by Linda Harper, photo courtesy of Gallery A, Taos, New Mexico

For the "arch-nemesis" prompt for Sunday Scribblings, I didn't want to write a piece, as I don't like to dwell on negativity. But in the spirit of continuous participation in Sunday Scribblings, I've decided to write an abbreviated version of this tale.

This is a true story about a woman whose jealousy and deep-rooted feelings of rejection caused her to deliberately manipulate the lives of three people - with dire consequences.

Margaret, the master manipulator, looked innocent enough. She was a tall, slightly overweight redhead with a loud and lively personality. She was married to an affable Israeli, with whom she had three children. To all outward appearances, they lived happily in their nondescript condo near San Francisco.

Margaret earned a good salary selling long-distance phone services to businesses in the San Francisco Bay area. And she drove a red BMW, courtesy of her wealthy Jewish father in Seattle. When we met through work, she was very friendly and talkative. Almost immediately, she suggested I should meet a long-time friend of hers. She said his family was originally Greek, but he was born in South Africa. He was handsome, charming and smart - and a single father to a then 14-year-old daughter. When she said she had dated him several years earlier and they remained friends, a warning bell sounded in my brain. As I had no intention of meeting her friend, I ignored it.

Margaret phoned several times, wanting to meet for lunch and asking if she could give my phone number to her friend. I said no, but finally took his number and told her I'd think about phoning him. Meanwhile, she'd had her boss at work telephone me, ostensibly to discuss business. I was abrupt with him, as I'd been called out of a meeting to take his call. But he kept phoning - seems he was intrigued by my voice. Early one morning he showed up unannounced at my office, saying he had to meet me.

"Antonio" was originally from Guatemala, drop-dead gorgeous and relentlessly charming, the kind of man that constantly has women swooning at his feet. While I was flattered by his elaborate attentions, I'd already been around the block (around the world) a few times and knew better than to succumb to his obvious charms. We flirted a bit, laughed a lot, had lunch, a few more phone conversations, had dinner, a few delicious kisses, but that was it.

Margaret was eager to learn all about my relationship with Antonio, as she was attracted to him (but knew she didn't have a chance). I told her Antonio wasn't the kind of man I wanted to be involved with, other than as friends. Further, I wasn't the kind of woman to kiss and tell. She said Antonio wouldn't give up so easily. "He'll have to, because we're going nowhere," I assured her. So she switched tactics, again insisting I phone her friend.

One Monday evening in early February I was feeling discouraged by the lack of suitable men in my life. On the spur of the moment, I phoned Margaret's friend "Gavin." I was struck by his charming accent and his sense of humour. We talked for 45 minutes, then made plans to meet four days later for lunch in San Francisco.

I decided to look at the whole thing as a lark. Imagine my surprise and delight when Gavin turned out to be not only handsome, charming, smart and funny, he was single, sexy and available! And he was seriously interested in me. We went out several times, fell madly (mad being the operative word) in love, took a romantic trip to Gualala and Mendocino and (rashly) decided to move in together. We were delirious with happiness.

Margaret expressed much enthusiasm for our union, seemingly on a relentless campaign to cement our relationship. Once Gavin and I moved in together, she would meet each of us separately for lunch, ask personal questions and slant these conversations when recounting them to the other party. For instance she would phone Gavin - who knew about Antonio's attraction to me - and suggest Antonio had asked her "When is she going to leave Gavin? She should be with me; she's too good for that guy." Gavin would never tell me any of this, but started acting suspicious of my every move. The seeds of doubt had begun to take root.

One Saturday morning Antonio showed up at our front door, driving Margaret's car. When I answered the door, Antonio threw his arms around me and wouldn't let go. When he saw Gavin standing in the hallway, he said he was babysitting Margaret's children while she was out of town (!) and they wanted to see me. They all trooped in and Antonio made small talk with Gavin, who glowered with barely-concealed fury while I made tea. Once Antonio and the children departed, Gavin exploded with rage and accused me of having an affair. "It's obvious that he's smitten; he keeps phoning you (how did he know that - I never mentioned the calls) and hanging around your office. And now he's even come to our home and thrown his arms around you! You must be having an affair!"

Radiation kills dissident spy

Shades of the Cold War! For all you John Le Carre fans, a fascinating tale of espionage, international intrigue and murder has been playing out in London. Unfortunately, it's all true: a dissident Soviet spy who sought political asylum in Great Britain has been murdered. And his cause of death has provoked serious cause for alarm: radiation poisoning.

Medical and police reports indicate Alexander Litvinenko, 43, was killed by a massive dose of alpha radiation from Polonium 210. A large quantity of the deadly radioactive element was detected in Litvinenko's urine, just hours prior to his death Thursday night in University College Hospital, London. For weeks doctors had tried to determine the type of poison that made Litvinenko ill, sending him to intensive care.

Press reports said traces of radiation were found at the hotel and sushi bar Litvinenko visited on November 1, the day he fell ill. The Health Protection Agency attempted to calm public anxiety, saying the risk of contamination was low. But the agency admitted that the apparent poisoning was "unprecedented."

The disclosure that radiation was to blame for Litvinenko's death came after his family released his deathbed statement, in which the Kremlin critic and former security agent accused Russian president Vladimir Putin.

"You have shown yourself to be as barbaric and ruthless as your most hostile critics have claimed," he said. "You may succeed in silencing one man, but the howl of protest from around the world will reverberate, Mr Putin, in your ears for the rest of your life. May God forgive you for what you have done, not only to me, but to beloved Russia and its people."

Litvinenko's father Walter blamed Russian security services for the death of his "courageous" son.

The ex-spy's statement prompted Putin to speak out for the first time about the situation. He insisted there was no proof that Litvinenko's death was "violent."

Scotland Yard's counter-terrorism unit, led by Deputy Assistant Commissioner Peter Clarke, is heading an investigation into Litvinenko's poisoning. Further, on Friday senior government ministers and security officials held a meeting of Cobra, the government's emergency planning committee.

Update Nov. 25 - Cahal Milmo's article in London's The Independent discusses the fallout from Litvinenko's death.

Post-Thanksgiving

This was meant to be a post as suggested by Jeffrey Yamuguchi's 52 Projects: pictures of Thanksgiving dinner before, during and after. But Thanksgiving didn't work out exactly according to plan. Susan of Soozphotoz explains it best in a lovely post for One Deep Breath. See her photo of the chocolate tart (below).

As for the chocolate tart, she was kind enough not to mention in her post how cutting the hard crust with a knife actually upended the confection, breaking the scalloped rim of the cakestand. And a large piece of glass nestled unnoticed among the chocolate - until I bit down on it! A couple of finger cuts, but no real harm done.

The picture above is of workers cleaning the building opposite us in the courtyard. While hosing the concrete walls, one worker was balanced rather precariously, one foot on the ladder, another atop a hedge. Their noisy machinery provided a lively pre-dinner concert for our guests, Susan and her belle mere Kate.

The photo below is of the French turkey, after its arrival from Monsieur Catois, our favourite butcher. My husband the chef made this bird the centrepiece of a delicious feast - even without cranberries! My daughter also enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner, with her grandparents in the United States.

It was wonderful finally seeing the lovely Susan in person, after months of exchanging e-mail and phone calls. And Kate was such a delight! David and I were entertained by hilarious tales of their adventures thus far in Paris. I get to see them again on Sunday, when they return from a quick jaunt to London. How lucky am I!

So on Thanksgiving, as every day, much for which to be thankful - including friends like you!

The mystics: painting and poetry

This oil on canvas painting is in the Ecole de Francaise style, circa 1900. (Click photo to view detail). It was on display at the twice-annual Antiquities Brocante last week at Place de Bastille. Seeing it, I was immediately struck by how much the painting resembled the mystical style of the poet William Blake. So for Poetry Thursday, here's Blake's poem The Voice Of The Ancient:

Youth of delight! come hither
And see the opening morn,
Image of Truth new-born.
Doubt is fled and clouds of reason,
Dark disputes and artful teasing.
Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways;
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead;
And feel--they know not what but care;
And wish to lead others, when they should be led.

Heart art

The talented artist Colette Copeland at A Bird in the Hand has honoured me by creating this wonderful art she calls "Tara's heart." She was inspired by my photo and haiku Heartfelt Monday for One Deep Breath. Aren't collaborative efforts like this fun??!! Merci bien, Colette!

Gratitude

Photo of my daughter Jordana skateboarding at a Maine beach in September

Okay, I didn't find cranberries, but in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. We'll have that particular stuffing another time (when I remember to bring back cranberries from London). As Thanksgiving nears, I have many blessings for which to be thankful: a healthy family; good friends; work that matters; a comfortable place to live and good food. And tomorrow, Susan of Soozphotoz and her belle mere Kate will be joining us for Thankgiving dinner.

I realise how incredibly lucky we are to be living in a society where all these things are possible. So many people in the world never have the opportunities we Westerners do. And I believe we have a responsibility to help those less fortunate than ourselves. Awareness has written an excellent piece about how poverty is just unacceptable. She quotes Nobel Prize Winner Muhammad Yunus:

"We create institutions and policies on the basis of the way we make assumptions about us and others. We accept the fact that we will always have poor people around us. So we have had poor people around us. If we had believed that poverty is unacceptable to us, and that it should not belong to a civilized society, we would have created appropriate institutions and policies to create a poverty-free world."

On Thanksgiving in America and every other day, let's spare a thought for those who struggle to make ends meet. And let's try to help them - small steps can make a big difference. You may be reading this and thinking, "Well I'm struggling to make ends meet." Believe me, I know. I've been there, as a single mom for 15 years. If you haven't already, please take a minute to read my post about some of my experiences: Changing Fortunes. You can help others without spending money - sometimes the smallest acts of kindness can change someone's day for the better.

Happy Thanksgiving to all you Americans out there, wherever you may be!

Changing fortunes

This post is about how things aren't always what they seem. I am reminded of a certain California television personality, whose niece is my friend. The celebrity is making a lot of money, but most of it goes to his three ex-wives and his children. Then there was a woman I knew living at a prestigious address on New York's Madison Avenue. She had hardly a stick of furniture - every dime she made was diverted into her rent. For her, it was all about appearances. She figured if she looked and acted rich, people would start to believe she was and unique business opportunities would flow her way. I don't know what happened to that woman. My guess is that sooner or later she was forced to face reality and re-evaluate her choices. Outward appearances are one thing; reality quite another!

Today I found a ten-euro note carelessly tossed amongst some papers in my handbag. And my mind flashed back to 1999 in Santa Fe, finding a hundred-dollar bill folded in a suitcase pocket and breathing a huge sign of relief. My daughter and I lived in Santa Fe, but I wrote for an international company in San Francisco. We were totally dependent on my income, so if a paycheck was late arriving, sometimes money was tight.

When I found that $100, I had been at my wits' end - a long holiday weekend loomed, my only credit card was near its limit and while there were groceries in our little adobe house, I had very little cash to treat my daughter to a fun activity.

Seeing the ten-euro note today and remembering how I struggled financially as a single mom reminded me of how my fortunes have changed - at least for the moment. While I was paid a good salary, for years in San Francisco and for a year in Santa Fe, most of my money went for rent, utilities, food, health insurance and my daughter's school expenses, clothing, etc. No matter how much I earned, it was never enough.

After I'd convinced my forward-thinking boss that I could telecommute, we moved to Santa Fe, where the price of real estate was half that of San Francisco. I flew back to San Francisco for about a week once a month, during which time I hired our landlord's college-age daughter to babysit.

The arrangement worked well, as I was finally able to start saving money with the goal of buying a house. Then I met my future husband and a few months later, my daughter and I joined him in London. Again, my company allowed me to telecommute. While London was even more expensive than San Francisco, we were able to live fairly comfortably on two incomes - with two big disclaimers: I had to pay private tuition for my daughter at the American School of London, taking a huge bite out of my salary. And my husband was still trying to secure a complicated financial settlement following his divorce from his first wife, leaving him with shockingly high legal bills.

A life spent changing planes as a reporter has meant I have had lots of exciting experiences and adventures and acquired many beautiful and unique things. But property? That's something I have yet to experience. I've lived most of my life in cities, renting apartments.

When we moved to Paris, I found myself as a non-European Union citizen legally unable to work. Yet strangely enough, with foreign living allowances and my husband's employer paying part of the tuition for my daughter to attend the American School of Paris, we had a bit of a financial breather. After my husband and I married, for the first time in my life - other than when a rich former fiance would ask me to "choose anything you want in the store" when shopping in New York - I could buy something without anguishing over the price tag. For so many years, money or its lack had been a worrying constant companion, dishing out daily doses of grief.

So when people write me about some of the hotels I've stayed or places I've lived, implying that only the wealthy would be able to afford such pleasures, I have to laugh. Because you didn't know me when I was fighting my daughter's extremely wealthy father in court in Jordan, spending my last $5,000 on legal bills. You didn't know me when I went back to New York, leaving behind a high-profile job as a television reporter - taking my daughter and my pride but no money - because the financial settlement establishing a trust fund for my daughter's education was never paid. To enforce the court order would have required money that I didn't have to pay the lawyers to return to court.

You didn't know me when I was forced to sell my jewelry for a pittance to buy food for my baby daughter. You didn't know me when I had to sell books and CDs to scrape together money for diapers and a special anti-allergen powdered baby formula that cost $25 a can, lasting just three days.

Searching for cranberries

Yes, I'm going back to Bon Marche this morning, still looking for fresh cranberries. On Monday they assured me they expected to have these rare delights (for France) by Tuesday morning - of course I was too busy rearranging furniture to accommodate a Spanish chest (more about that later) yesterday to return.

It is hoped today's trip will bring more luck, as I have scoured the town for cranberries. Bon Marche does have canned Ocean Spray cranberries, but the stuffing recipe requires fresh ones. Meanwhile, more surreal photos of Bon Marche's jewel-and-perfume-filled windows, with nearby buildings and traffic reflected in the glass.

More Bon Marche windows

Although I wouldn't want the large pearl and diamond brooches that resemble spiders, I like the surreal look of these photos. The buildings across the street, as well as automobile and pedestrian traffic are reflected in Bon Marche's windows. Click photos to view detail.

Cranberries and Jimmy Choos

In my quest for cranberries to make Nigella Lawson's cranberry-orange stuffing for the Thanksgiving turkey, on Monday I went to Le Bon Marche. My husband will be picking up the turkey from the butcher Thursday morning. The frozen turkeys so popular in the U.S. are virtually non-existent here, as fresh turkey is widely available.

Le Bon Marche's windows are filled with giant faux mushroom caps that shrink and expand in size, spices, perfumes, jewelry and clothes. The buildings shown in the photo are actually across the street, reflected in store windows. Click photos for detail.

Jewelry "snowflakes" are draped along these silvery branches, while diamonds languish in the "snow."

I went for cranberries, but found Jimmy Choo evening sandals instead. Although I wouldn't be walking in the snow wearing these beauties.

Jars of spices and pickled fruits are stuffed inside this faux pumpkin.

Pots of jam, gourmet foods and jewels are hidden among these flowers and vines (above and below).

Heartfelt

Photo of a heart on the metro steps on a rainy Monday afternoon in Paris

Don't step on my heart
as you can see it's damaged
but still beats with hope

"Come to your senses" at One Deep Breath.

Teachers offer hope for immigrant children

Exquisite detail of a wooden door at a private residence, Sevilla, Spain. In keeping with the Sunday Scribblings theme, I think the horseman looks as though he's galloping off to rescue someone.

For the Sunday Scribblings prompt "hero" I could write about many people, famous and not-so-famous. The common traits all these amazing men and women share is selflessness and compassion. In their desire to improve the lot of others, these heroes risk persecution, jail sentences and in some cases, even death.

Today I want to focus on a select group of heroes in France: teachers. Being a teacher in itself can be pretty heroic - witness this heart-tugging piece from Wendy at Quiet about a Lot of Things.

Some French teachers go above and beyond the call of duty: not only do they teach their usual classes and help expand children's minds to learning, they shelter immigrant children at their homes. They feed, clothe and provide shelter, medical care and education for these children forced by an unrealistic immigration policy to be separated from their parents.

In France, the law stipulates that immigrant children cannot be deported without their parents, while parents cannot be deported without their children. In an effort to halt families from being deported at the end of the school term- most of them to countries in Africa beset with war, drought and food shortages - some French teachers are caring for the immigrant children, hiding them at their homes or safe houses.

Of course the French have a history of sheltering children in times of war and difficult circumstance. Many of these immigrant children were born in France and have lived all their lives on French soil. To be forcibly uprooted to an unfamiliar environment, often with civil unrest, political instability and harsh living conditions is just wrong - no matter how you look at it.

For wrenching firsthand accounts of the daily struggles involved for an illegal immigrant in Paris, read Le Clandestine a Paris:

"...But I tell myself that for goodness' sake, I have been through worse. I survived a genocide, witnessed my entire family hacked to death with machettes, but have managed to live with the incommensurable grief."

Currently an estimated 400,000 illegal immigrants reside in France, of whom 50,000 are thought to be children currently attending school. Many parents have requested political asylum, but their pleas have been rejected. Meanwhile, the children suffer - separated from their families, in a desperate bid for safe havens. And the teachers - following their conscience, rather than the law - risk their jobs and jail to help these children.

And the government? Still debating the problems associated with immigration, illegal or otherwise. It is hoped elections next spring will result in a government up to the challenge.

A brocante, a rugby game and a weeping willow

I have spent the afternoon at the brocante at Bastille - yes, I went back for seconds and to see Blandine Bavoux, a favourite antiques dealer who was out of town until today - so will post more later.

Tonight is the big rematch of the France-New Zealand rugby game at the Stade Francais Stadium in Paris. You may have heard that France was severely trounced last Saturday by the superb All-Blacks team. This afternoon the Paris metro was filled with New Zealand fans in black-and-white rugby shirts, no doubt hoping for a second victory.

But of course, I'll be cheering for France. After all, one of the French players lives in our neighbourhood and plays for our favourite team, Stade Francais. Naturally, Di at Woman Wandering in Belgium will be cheering for her home team, the All-Blacks! Meanwhile, here's a photo of the weeping willow in our courtyard, dripping with autumn gold.

Update: New Zealand defeated France 23-11 in a thrilling match.

Bastille brocante finds

My friend Gabrielle and I spent much of the day at the Antiquities Brocante at Place de la Bastille. The treasures I brought home include this framed certificate awarded to Monsieur Naudel for his service to the 13e regiment de infanterie.

Alas, the photograph doesn't do the paper justice. Dated 1783, the document's heading - beautifully handwritten in faded brown ink - is the French motto "Liberte, Egalite et Fraternite." The red wax seal features the Republique de Francaise symbol. And the document's authenticity has been verified by French authorities.

This huge 12 x 24-inch woodblock print for fabric is from the late 19th-century. Any ideas with what to do with it, other than lean it against a wall?

This iron and bronze armillary sphere dates from the late 19th-century. I photographed it on the balcony, but don't know if that's where it will remain.

In my bid to create more space in our small apartment by selling some large pieces, this week an antiquaire took my 19th-century iron and wood child's sleigh - which I had piled high with books - to display in her holiday sale. I saw it in her shop Thursday, filled with antique toys. It looked so adorable, I wished I had never agreed to sell it. Perhaps it won't sell and I'll get it back. But then I'll be faced with the same dilemma - not enough room!

French politics just got more interesting

Update: Later Friday morning, it was confirmed that Segolene Royal was elected the Socialist candidate to run for the French presidency.

As of early Friday, French Television exit polls suggest that Segolene Royal will be the Socialist party's candidate for President. Royal, 53, has apparently swept past her two main rivals, former Finance Minister Dominique Strauss-Kahn and ex-Prime Minister Laurent Fabius.

If Royal is confirmed as the Socialist nomination in Thursday's ballot, she could become France's first female president. Of course she'll have to fend off expected challengers Nikolas Sarkozy and possibly Dominique deVillepin in the election next spring. A Socialist party official told Agence France Presse that voters had made "a clear choice."

AFP photo

Rainy afternoon in Paris

No takers for the neighbourhood Caroussel de Jules Verne on a rainy afternoon...

...but a variety of colourful roses at a local florist remind us of sunny days.

Le beaujolais nouveau est arrive

Photo of Beaujolais Nouveau wines at Inno, a Paris supermarket. While the taste may leave something to be desired - after all, ten weeks ago, the grapes were still on the vine - it's the tradition that counts.

The Beaujolais Nouveau released every year on the third Thursday in November is what the Brits would call "cheap and cheerful." The hoopla surrounding the release of the new vintage isn't what it once was - no balloon races or car races to get the first bottles to Paris, Britain, Belgium and Germany. But people still gather to taste the new offering - even if they never again drink another bottle of the vintage.

I'm waiting for my husband to get home to uncork this bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau. Last summer the Georges Duboeuf trading house was convicted for illegally mixing wine from various Beaujolais labels. According to the BBC, this appears to have been "an unfortunate one-off lapse." As you can see, the Georges Duboeuf label is still popular, selling more Beaujolais Nouveau than any other French company.

Fox TV sinks to new low

Update Nov. 21 - After public outcry, Rupert Murdoch announced the television interviews with OJ Simpson will not air and the book will not be released.

As a strong advocate of a free press, reluctantly I must defend Judith Regan's right to produce an inane television show featuring O.J. Simpson's "hypothetical" take on committing murder. But the lack of scruples involved in such a tasteless exercise, blatantly pandering to sensationalism, rather than news? That is indefensible.

Unfortunately that's the kind of crass behaviour I have come to expect from Rupert Murdoch's low-brow Fox channel and Fox "news." They'll make money on advertising - although it will be interesting to note what companies are stupid enough to have their names associated with this desperate bid for ratings in American television's "sweeps" period.

As for Simpson, whether or not he is guilty of the murders in 1994 - and a civil court said he was guilty, ordering him to pay restitution to families of the victims - what kind of father would expose his children to more painful memories of their mother's murder? And to "hypothetically" discuss how he would have done it? Shameful. Here's the sordid story via Media Bistro:

"O.J. Simpson: If I Did It, Here's How It Happened," will be released on November 30, accompanied by a two-part TV special where Judith Regan interviews Simpson on Fox TV, airing on November 27 and 29 - in other words, just in time for the end of sweeps week. The hook? Both book and special will depict Simpson describing "how he would have carried out the murders he has vehemently denied committing for over a decade." Which means there's now a two-week window to debate the tastelessness of such a move and wonder who would actually ante up the cash to advertise products while O.J. blathers on about how he would, ah, "hypothetically murder" his victims even though the "real killers" are still out on the golf course, or whatever the going excuse is of the moment.

The Washington Post's Lisa de Moraes has more on the story, including a statement from Nicole Brown's sister, Denise Brown: "We hope Ms. Regan takes full accountability for promoting the wrong doing of criminals and leveraging this forum and the actions of 'Simpson' to commercialize abuse." But Hollywood cynics aren't exactly holding their breath. "No, not in Hollywood at all, because we're all whores, but in the rest of the country where they have morals -- sure," guessed one such exec, who conceded that the moral, non-Hollywood segment of the country probably would nonetheless tune in by the millions.

Meanwhile the New York Times reports that it is unclear how much, if any, of the royalties from the book will go to the victims’ families. A Regan representative and a spokeswoman for Fox declined to comment beyond the news release.

Update on class action against AT&T

On Friday, Nov. 17 a federal judge in San Francisco will consider the next steps in the Electronic Frontier Foundation's (EFF) class-action lawsuit against telecommunications giant AT&T. On January 31, 2006 the EFF filed suit against the company, accusing AT&T of violating the law, as well as customer privacy in collaborating with the National Security Agency (NSA) in its program to wire tap and data-mine Americans' communications.

Other cases recently transferred to U.S. District Court Judge Vaughn Walker's courtroom include similar allegations against AT&T.

The U.S. government has intervened in EFF's case, contending that even if the NSA program is illegal, the lawsuit should be dismissed because it might expose "state secrets." Last week the government asked the judge to halt all proceedings until the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals rules on motions to dismiss the case.

Friday's case management conference will address how EFF's suit and other class-action cases might go forward, without implicating the state secrets privilege. It will also consider what discovery should proceed during the appeals process.

For some previous posts about the class-action lawsuit, see AT&T maintains secret room for NSA, documents allege and Don't Let AT&T off the hook.

Fab find in London

You don't have to travel to London to find this gem - it's probably at your local department store in the Origins skincare section. It's not often that I find a beauty product that is so amazing, I feel guilty if I don't share it with others. But I am very enthusiastic about Dr. Andrew Weil's moisturisers Plantidote Mega-Mushroom Face Serum and the real mega-star: Plantidote Mega-Mushroom Face Cream.

Not only do these moisturisers work, they feel like soothing, comforting balm for your skin - and the feeling lasts for hours after application! According to Origins' product notes the face cream contains Hypsizygus ulmarius and Chaga mushrooms, which help quiet and calm skin. The patented technology "is further supported by Menyanthus and Heather extracts to keep skin firm; Fucoidan from Okinawan seaweed to discourage moisture loss and Vitamins C and E to defend against destructive oxidation."

For months I'd been seeing magazine ads for these moisturisers, but couldn't find them in Paris. Walking into Boots on Kensington High Street last week, I discovered they'd started stocking Origins cosmetics and skin care - including Dr. Weil's products!

Now I did not need another moisturiser. I have a few favourites that I alternate: Sisley, Prescriptives, Creme de Mer, Origins and Ren and they all work well. But I admire Dr. Weil's philosophy about health and well-being and have read most of his books - including his latest Healthy Aging, A Lifelong Guide to Your Physical and Spiritual Well-being. So I figured any product with Dr. Weil's seal of approval - as well as the Origins imprimateur - must be good.

And I'm pleased to report the Plantidote Mega-Mushroom Face Cream is the finest moisturiser I've ever come across, hands down! The next time you're shopping for moisturiser, I urge you to sample the Dr. Weil products. These creams and lotions feel like you're pampering your skin, with each application. That alone makes them well worth the price (which I understand is considerably less in the US than in Europe). And the great look and feel of your skin is a bonus!

Ye olde curiosity shoppe

A beaded crystal chandelier with ceramic roses is the focal point of this window at Liberty & Co., London. The eclectic table setting features seashells and coral scattered amongst a silver tea service and porcelain dishes. A bisque doll's head fills a lotus bowl, while an original handblocked Japanese print circa 1895 tops a framed sketch.

An ornate Murano glass candlelabra is at the center of this design, along with various glass and crystal showpieces, including decanters and a large crystal pineapple.

This window at Liberty & Co. is decorated in 1940s style, with a Veronica Lake look-alike mannequin wearing a chiffon evening gown. A feathered headdress, beaded gowns, shoes, evening bags and crystal perfume bottles add to the glamourous ambience. Much of the goodies are tucked away in an antique vitrine lined with silk moire.

Some Liberty windows resemble an old cabinet d'curiositie, or cabinet of curiosities, which were popular in Victorian times.

I don't know many men with the confidence to pull off a silver sequined scarf wrapped around their neck - or give a gift tied with a man's silk cravat, satin ribbon, a tassle and antlers sprayed gold. Do you?

Liberty's winter windows

In London, Liberty & Co.'s window has the winter blues...

...and holiday reds. Note the leather handbags and hand luggage featuring the famous Liberty Art Nouveau design.

Leather journals are stacked high on a three-legged stool, along with a sleek wooden Art Deco-era panther.

A 19th-century concave mirror and Japanese art decorates the wall above a burled wood demi-lune table. Arts and Crafts vessels and vases, a Liberty scarf and 1930s Art Deco cocktail shaker and glasses, as well as modern art glass pieces complete the vignette.

An old etched-mirror clock and 19th-century Japanese art flank a winter display window at Liberty of London.

Behind this frosted glass and gilt hanging lantern, large broken pieces of a mercury glass mirror - probably circa 1830s - lean against the wall, while a red leather handbag dangles from a tree branch.

Third Day Book Club selection

The logo for the Third Day Book Club

If you're in the United States, this is the book jacket for Winter's Bone.

If you're in Europe, Australia or New Zealand, this is the Winter's Bone cover.

Patry Francis and I have agreed that I will host the December 3rd "meeting" of her Third Day Book Club. We will be discussing Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell. It's less than 200 pages, so it is hoped you can set aside some reading time from your busy schedules. Later this month, I will post some questions to consider for discussion. Then on or before Sunday, Dec. 3, please e-mail me your link so that I can post your review on my blog, or link to your review on your own blog.

I bought this book in July in London, because not only did it look interesting, its covers featured recommendations of respected writers, including Roddy Doyle, Annie Proulx and Charles Frazier. Most of all I was enthralled with Woodrell's descriptive language:

"The world seemed huddled and hushed and her crunching steps cracked loud as ax whacks. As she crunched past houses built on yon slopes yard dogs barked faintly from under porches but none came into the cold to make a run at her and flash teeth. Smoke poured from every chimney and was promptly flattened east by the wind."

And from the book jacket:

"The last time Ree saw her father he didn't bring food or money but promised he'd be back soon with a paper sack of cash and a truckload of delights. Since he left, she's had to look after her mother - dependent on pills and losing her looks - and her two younger brothers. Ree hopes the boys won't turn out like the others in the Ozark Hills - hard and mean before they've learnt to shave.

"One cold winter's day, Ree discovers that her father has put up their house as bail and that it will be sold from under them if he doesn't show up at court. Ree knows she needs to find her father to save her family but in an isolated culture riven with long-running feuds her questions aren't welcome."

Please join Patry and me in reading Winter's Bone and discussing it on our blogs on December 3rd.

Aine Livia's cat is missing

Mister Mao, the black cat, friend and companion of Aine Livia.

It's unlikely that Mister Mao has found his way to Paris. But perhaps he's visiting your neighbourhood? If you see him, please contact Aine Livia, who writes:

Mister Mao went for his afternoon wander last Wednesday and has not returned. He is the sort you can set your watch by. Sat in the kitchen next to his bowl looking devestatingly handsome and appealing, it's either 8am or 6pm and it's time for a meal.

The most difficult thing for me is the not knowing. If I thought he'd found a new home and was safe, comfy and well, I could feel well that's ok. But the thoughts and anxieties that arise from not knowing are, well just awful and hard to bear.

I wonder if you would join me in sending out good thoughts to Mister Mao, hoping that he will be safe and well and find his way home. And if that's not possible, then that he has found a good home somewhere. Thank you.

Art for the Underground

"City Glow, Mountain Whisper" by Chiho Aoshima is part of the Platform for Art programme for the London Underground. Sponsored by the City of London, the art is on display at the Gloucester Road tube station until January 25, 2007. Click photo to enlarge.

Reckless policies doomed to fail

An excerpt from Peter Beaumont's chilling article in today's Observer:

Israeli military commanders drastically reduced the 'safety' margins that separate artillery targets from the built-up civilian areas of Gaza earlier this year, despite being warned that the new policy risked increasing Palestinian civilian deaths and injuries, The Observer can reveal. The warning, delivered in Israel's high court by six human rights groups, came after the Israeli Defence Force reduced the so-called 'safety range' in Gaza from a 300-metre separation from built-up areas to just 100 metres - within the kill radius of its 155mm high-explosive shells, generally regarded as being between 50 and 150 metres.

Disclosure of the new shelling policy, which went largely unnoted at the time, has emerged in international outcry over the latest artillery incident by Israeli gunners shelling Gaza - the killing of 19 members of an extended family in the Gaza town of Beit Hanoun. It was the highest Palestinian civilian toll in a single incident since the current conflict erupted in September 2000. The deaths were caused when what witnesses described as a volley of tank shells hit a built-up civilian area.

The revelation follows reports that the shelling of Gaza has continued despite the recent recognition by senior Israeli military officers, including the head of the IDF's Southern Command, that indirect artillery fire (ie, firing without seeing the target) was largely pointless in countering Palestinian rocket fire.

Meanwhile, an editorial Thursday in The Independent, London pointed out that Wednesday "was one of the most tragic days in Gaza for many years." "At least 18 Palestinian civilians, 10 of them children, were killed when Israel tanks shelled blocks of flats in the town of Beit Hanoun. A further 60 people were wounded. The Israeli army says the shelling was accidental and has launched an inquiry. But the damage has been done. In the eyes of most Palestinians, this was a war crime. The response of the Syrian-based Hamas leader, Khaled Mashaal was to declare the official ceasefire with Israel over."

"...Great damage has been inflicted on the Palestinian people since the Israeli army returned to Gaza in June. A United Nations report Wednesday outlined how homes and farms have been destroyed arbitrarily by the Israeli military. The bombing of the strip's power generator has prevented hospitals from functioning properly. The already-ailing economy has collapsed entirely under a fierce blockade."

"Israel claims its objective is to put an end to the volleys of crude Qassam rockets being fired from Gaza into Israel by Palestinian militants. Yet these rockets - though deplorable - have killed a very small number of Israelis in the past six years. So wildly disproportionate has been the Israeli response that it seems hard to believe this is not a collective punishment for the Gaza population for electing a Hamas government in January."

Bonne anniversaire, David!

My camera-shy British husband David is pictured in October at the Plaza de Espana, Sevilla, Spain. Today we celebrate his birthday in Paris. But he'll be cooking his own birthday dinner, as he's the better chef (I'm the better baker and bottle-washer). And if you've ever been to our apartment, you know how he loves to cook. Happy birthday, dear David!

Design icon at Liberty & Co.

This magnificent upright piano designed by Gilbert Ogilvey and the Guild of Handicraft is for sale at Liberty & Co. in London. And the price for this gem made by John Broadwood & Sons of London in 1900? A trifling £16,000 (about $30,000).

The piano has a burled oak case with linenfold panel sides and is inlaid with ebony and mother-of-pearl in a chequered and floral design. Originally purchased by the Rev. Bertram of Cockermouth, the piano was exhibited at the Limars Hotel Exhibition of 1905. It was featured in an article on piano design in the Magazine of Art, 1901. And more than a hundred years later, it still has a beautiful sound!

Now the real work begins

The Evening Standard headline was typical of London newspapers Wednesday trumpeting the Democrats' election victory. Headlines like "Bushwhacked" and "It's the War, Stupid," were the order of the day.

The Sunday Scribblings prompt is to write something based on a Diane Ackerman quote: "I do not want to be a passenger in my own life."

This week American voters decided the same thing, overwhelmingly voting for change and a new direction for the country. Voting is a responsibility for citizens in a country whose founding fathers envisioned "government by and for the people."

But too many Americans simply don't bother to register their voice at the polls. All kinds of excuses are offered, such as "couldn't get to the polls," - that's why absentee ballots are available - while some people won't vote because they fear being called for jury duty and worry they can't miss time off from work during a sustained trial.

Voting irregularities including computer glitches, power outages, problems with voting machines and long lines waiting to vote may deter many voters, as evidenced in Tuesday's election. Voter reform is an issue that must be tackled by our leaders. But voter apathy is an issue for individuals to address.

Voting remains an elusive privilege in some parts of the world. I'll never forget seeing the South African singer Miriam Makeba in concert in San Francisco in 1994. Well into her '60s, she talked about her excitement as a black woman being able to vote for the first time.

In Kuwait, women couldn't vote until 2005, when an amendment to Kuwait's electoral law allowed women to cast their ballots and stand in parliamentary and local elections. After Iraq's invasion of Kuwait in 1990, the Kuwaiti government promised its Western rescuers it would initiate voting reform and political rights for women. Fifteen years later, that promise was finally realised.

In the United Arab Emirates, where the Parliament is officially appointed, neither men nor women have the right to vote or to stand for election. In Saudi Arabia, in 2005 men took part in the first local elections ever held in the country. But women were not allowed to vote or to stand for election.

So we are lucky to have the right and responsibility to choose our leaders and take them to task if they're not doing their jobs. In Australia, it's the law that every citizen must register their vote.

And now that the Democrats have control of the House and the Senate and the Speaker-of-the-House is a woman? We must find ways to cross partisan lines and work together for the common good.

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing is a field. I'll meet you there." - Rumi

Genesis of genius

A page from the exhibition program of Leonardo da Vinci: Experience, Experiment and Design, on through January 7 at the Victoria & Albert Museum, London.

For this week's Poetry Thursday, the prompt is "a poetry snapshot." Leonardo da Vinci wrote his notes and ideas in a backward script, which others could read only by holding the pages to a mirror. Leonardo was a mathematician, scientist and inventor, as well as a prolific artist. The last three years of his life were spent at Clos Luce, a beautiful chateau in Amboise, France. His studio and much of the original furnishings remain, along with models of his inventions.

The genesis of genius
evident in this strange backward script
holding a concave mirror to the soul
of this forward-thinking man
with myriad ideas for change

Keen observations and drawings in brown ink
on parchment in small notebooks
once bound with leather
curious truths spilling into the margins
crammed with excitement of discovery

Others have tried and failed to emulate
his practices and way of thinking
Seven Steps to Genius Everyday*
is one book's focus but complex theory
rarely translates to mere mortals

Only one Leonardo
the brilliant artist, thinker, inventor
far ahead of his time
who enriched the world's landscape
and captured Mona Lisa's smile

*How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci: Seven Steps to Genius Everyday by Michael Gelb

Remembrance Day

This afternoon at Waterloo Station in London, members of the Royal British Legion (RBL) were selling artificial poppies in recognition of Remembrance Day on November 11, also known as Poppy Day and Armistice Day. Wearing poppies in the month of November is a British and British Commonwealth tradition in memory of those who sacrificed their lives during World War I and other wars.

Earlier today I saw numerous memorials covered with poppies outside Westminster Abbey. The RBL is a charity dedicated to helping war veterans.