FRENCH FRIES -- FRENCH CHEESE, WINE, BREAD AND RAY WINGS FOR LUNCH

I have just spent 13 full days in France.  When you're poor,                                  

that's all you can spend.  When you are spending nothing but time, like everything else, you have to devise ways to make it interesting.  I don't have to tell you that spending for stuff that you already have or for stuff that you NEED is no pleasure whatsoever.  So, what I do to alleviate my penurious status is to enjoy the creation about me.  We all have some of that.  No matter where we are.  The easy part about creation watching is that you don't have to travel to get there.  Of course if you have traveled already to get where you are to begin your random spending, then a slice of the interesting part  has already been spent.  Nevertheless, not really too much has been lost.  In fact, if you traveled in any direction at all, you are bound to find something to spend your time on.  

It used to be that spending your time on an airplane was rather satisfying.  The working crew was all female of a certain age, minus a few years.  So the spending spree started quite early in those days.  Now, with the degradation of our national values regarding the inherent beauty of the lithe, young female, spending time on an airplane is best invested in a good book (paper or electronic will do) and or sleep.  Either way, you come out ahead.  It also makes you ready to start spending wisely and with more enjoyment once you remove your now nearly pretzel shaped body from the tight interior of the sleek titanium tube.

Before we got to France we landed in Detroit and in Amsterdam.  I'll spare you the details of the first two since I didn't spend much of anything there.  What I did spend in Amsterdam was interesting from the point of view that all the "Dutch Uncles" I saw were not yet old enough to grow a beard, let alone smoke a fancy S shaped Meerschaum pipe.  I wonder what it takes to reach 30 in Holland?  So, I saved myself for a little more spending in France.  This is the land of my forebears, if not my teddy bears.  So I happily boarded the plane headed for France, despite the stewardesses of a "certain age" being in the majority.  I planned on investing in some sleep rather than spending foolishly.  Good move actually.  When I left the tightly circumscribed interior of the shiny tube, I started spending right away.  It was so different.  Good looking people all around.  Men and women. Hey, this was neat.  Different hair styles.  Different manner of dress.  Men, young and old actually had their trousers tied around their waist.  Women had dresses or skirts on.  Now I was spending big time.  Every chance I had I would stop to ask for directions.  I didn't really have to, but hey, when your spending and you're in the mood, you fall into a state of profligacy and the inebriation that it brings is what makes this kind of spending worth it.  It keeps you awake and it keeps you flying high.  

I did some of my most intense spending on the observation that there were so few obese French people around.  I was really drawn into the spending whirlpool then.  I walked all around, looking for the rare fat French person.  I didn't know what I was going to do if I found one.  But at least, if "getting there is half the fun" I was in to it, having fun.  The problem with spending time is that you don't get a discount and you don't get a lower price for "seeking time."  It's all the same price.  That's a bad feeling, but only when it comes upon you.  Usually it hits you when you started out going to the iced yogurt counter to make your sweetheart happy while she decides to hoard her spending time and spend money instead to keep her innards (you know, those things) happy.  It's not too cool to make her spend time waiting for the "Yahourt Glace" while you're spending time "people watching."  Like this time.  Man, I got the old dressing down for spending too much time in non-sweetheart ways and not enough time spending those dastardly expensive EUROS.  Time is a lot cheaper, and the exchange rate is 1 to 1.  "Merci, Monsieur. 2.00 Euros s'il-vous-plait?" Sounds cool, right? Not when you come to your senses and realize that you just spend $2.75 instead of just 2.00

Maybe that's what keeps the French skinny.  They don't spend 2.00 Euros for frozen yogurt.  By the way, I looked it up.  it is visible and observable that the French are skinnier than we are.  In fact here is a statistic that you can look up.

Percentage of obese people in the USA >>>>> 30.6      ranked   1 in the world

Percentage of obese people in France >>>>>>   9.4      ranked 23 in the world

Here's where I got this information :  http://www.nationmaster.com/graph/hea_obe-health-obesity

Well, we're number 1 at something, anyway.

BONJOUR, MONSIEUR -- UH, UHM, BONJour!

I have been having fun with cultural things ever since I got to France.  I have always prided myself as being comfortable in France and Italy because I speak the language.  So this is France.  Am I comfortable?  Oh, yes.  Also making a lot of funny observations, no, I take that back, they aren't funny observations.  They are factual observations of perfectly correct behavior that triggers a reflex in my funny bone.  The hands-down winner in the category is the little guy who is in the urinal stall next to the one that I chose.  I pull up, get in position, unzip,and before I get 1/8 of an inch down on the zipper, the little guy looks over the partition and says, "Bonjour, Monsieur."  [Hello,Sir.]  So I respond to his smiling face with a chirpy "Bonjour."  Then I turn to business and file it away as being caused by an excess in politeness and respect.  As I stood there I remembered the fact that when we were traveling from Corps to La Salette, everyone who boarded the bus greeted the driver and the driver dutifully greeted them back.  Come on, passengers and bus drivers exchanging greetings?
Then there was the couple of times that I had to stand in line for bus tickets.  I had forgotten how adept the french are in insinuating themselves between you and the shared target destination.  It's really quite humorous.  They know that is is considered rude to cut a line.  They also know that if they do that they will be called out by the person who was cut and be publicly humiliated.  So they slip and slide and every so gently carve out their space right before your unsuspecting eyes.  But not your body.  Your body can feel every single move.  Slightly daring sometimes, smooth and comforting at all times.  They are absolutely ingenious at this kind of behavior.  If they don't succeed in outmaneuvering you, [this is, remember, a "contact" sport] they will, from their frustrated three quarters angle shot sweetly look at you and say something really brilliant, like, "Please permit me to ask a question that will require only 5 seconds."  How are you going to say "No?"
Oh, yeah?  I dare you.
So, not you're going to hear the whole 300 word question, including footnotes and watch the ensuing ticket purchase transaction take place right by your side.  You'll be so flim-flam-bamboozled that some one else from the opposite side will have taken advantage of your hapless situation and proceeded to enter into a transaction ahead of you.  I guarantee that you will be so impressed by the whole sensuous tango of the whole thing that you will not even be angry.  You'll buy your ticket and move on, full of wonder at what had just happened to you.
Therefore, beware of strange things that can happen to you if you ever get to France.  I suggest you come.  The people are more fun to watch than the scenery.

MONEY, MONEY, MONEY

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This is about as taboo as it gets.  In fact it is so taboo that we're going to have to go to the Bible to try to exorcise it.  I rather like going to the Bible to talk about secular stuff.  Surprisingly there is a lot to be learned there.  Yes even about ------------->>>>

Sometimes it makes me think about the movies though.  You know, like James Bond, for instance.  How does he do it?  Never runs out of mo... resources.  Of course he is a government employee.  But, then there is the guy, the doctor who is running away to escape from the police so that he can catch the real killer.  I forget who that is.  I'll try to look it up.  
Kimble, that's who, Dr. Richard Kimble.  He was portrayed by Harrison Ford.  I could never figure out how he could do all that escaping and never do a lick of work.  Where did he get the mon...uh, wherewithall?
That never happens in real life.  In fact it is the other way around.  The Bible, oh yeah, I almost forgot.  I've noticed that Abraham never runs short.  I don't know how many stories you can read about him and he's always flush with the green.  My favorite is the story where he buys his burial ground from Ephron.  Amazing!  He doesn't bargain or anything, he just tells the guy, take the money. The guy says, in front of all his people, "OK, four hundred shekels of silver is not too much between friends."  Done.  They count it out and they're happy.  Sheeeesh!  That Abraham, first he gives seven of his best heads of livestock to Abimelech and then the silver to Ephron.  No wonder I never met this guy.  He's too far out of my league. 
But it does give you an idea of how much of a rat-fink weasel Judas was.  30 pieces of silver.  I wonder what that was worth on the open market back then.  Heck, it was only 9 centuries after Abraham.  [It was worth 1 day's wages.  Or you could buy a slave for that.  About 30 shekels.]  Sounds like serious devaluation to me.  Maybe the shekel had taken a nose-dive because of the competition with the Roman "denarius."  But wow, what a cheap *&^%))__#@!
Back to the green.  The thought I had the other day was not green or any other color.  I was thinking about electronic money.  For a long time now I have never had more than $5.00 in my pocket at any given time.  That is simply because I sit at my computer, type some numbers on the keyboard, hit "enter" and know that suddenly my gross worth has declined.  It is rather depressing to work hard, sweat until "payday" only to find that the only way to ascertain what happened is to go home and check your computer to see if it really happened.  I was wondering if there really is any real money out there or whether it is all just a hoax.  I am going to be out of town for some four weeks or so shortly.  In fact I will be in Europe for nigh on to three weeks.  My mortgage payment is going to come due, as well as other electronic obligations.  No sweat.  I will just sit there and do what I usually do.  Type in the numbers and hit "enter."  Done.  Better yet. Just like James Bond, all I will have to do is go to the nearest Banque Nationale de France, put my piece of plastic between miss ATM's lips and catch the bills that she spits out in return.  That's only if I have to deal with some retrograde traditionalist cobble stone street merchant somewhere.  I have made confirmed hotel reservations in the space of five minutes from ten thousand miles away.  Are they crazy?  No?  Then maybe I'm the crazy one.  10,000 miles away in an unincorporated mountain village 4,000 feet in the air and they trust a message saying that they are going to  get money after I sleep there.  I think that we are both nuts.  it sure gives a new meaning to the expression, "Got no money, got no time, ain't got nuthin', not a dime."
I have no idea who invented money.  If it was the Romans, they were smart not to have a "zero" in their life.  That way, they always had something.  If it was the Mayan, they were lucky too because they could keep adding zeros after the "1" and really sock to it the poor unsuspecting Roman.  Can you just imagine that?  Some Roman noble comes to the West, buys three panther tooth necklaces and gets socked for about 10,000 Mayan-a-macallums.  HHeeee... Such a deal.  See, that's what you get for not having a "zero", tin-shirt, square pants boob!  Hey, is that an Arab Horse you got there?  It is!  Whoa!  Hey, how about 000000000005 for that sweetheart?  Really?  You're good to go for that.  Yeah, just a minute.  Hey ya know what?  How about I give you a deal and give you 075 for your sturdy steed?   Yeah, good, I feel better for you too.  Besides I don't have anything smaller than that on me.
Now, try that on your trusty megabyte grinder, Sir Brin.


I never believed I could have such an inane, inconsequential thought.  My gray matter must be loosing its wrinkles.