Au Cochonnet Marin

Parking has become one of the greatest nuisances of the 21^st century. Today, you cannot go anywhere without a car, and when you arrive at your destination, your misery begins.

Regardless of your mode of transportation (bicycle, motorcycle, automobile, or even horseback), after your ride, you need to securely park it. And unfortunately, there always seem to be more cars than available parking spots.

In the olden days, there was one car per family. Today everybody drives, and you can easily have 3 cars per household, hence the problem! Most everybody enjoys driving but (unless you are a certified masochist) everybody hates searching for a parking spot.

Now, before you curse me and start legal proceedings against me, I want to reiterate that I love women… except when they loiter in a parking lot. When you drive into a parking area and see a man walking toward his car, you are almost certain that this upstanding fellow will vacate his spot within minutes.

But when a woman enters her car, her liftoff time can vary between 5 minutes to 2 days. I don’t know why it takes so long for her to depart, but while fretting in my own car, I have come up with some hypotheses.

First, a woman cannot drive away without first glancing at the rearview mirror, checking hair, eyeliner, lipstick, and foraging in her handbag. Then, she probably must call somebody (boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, shrink) to give them the latest dope about her expedition. If she is gabby or annoyed, this could take a good 10 to 15 minutes. Messages also have to be deciphered and answered. This also adds significantly to the waiting time.

She might have to change shoes. These stiletto heels are good to impress a customer or a lover, but there are very unpractical for operating a vehicle. Tennis shoes are much easier on the foot, and let you clearly feel the gas pedal and the brake pedal.

I am not exactly the image of patience and waiting 20 minutes for somebody to vacate his/her spot while a cretin is honking behind me, makes my blood boil. And knowing that the minute I lose patience and leave the area, the parked nuisance will finally depart and the moron behind me will get the spot that was rightly mine.

But generally speaking, I think that women are more sensible drivers than men. They drive slower (not all) and don’t take as many chances as men on the freeway.
Outside a parking lot, I am susceptible to their charm and always enjoy any tête-à-tête with them.
But only outside the hellish area called a parking lot!

“He who thinks too much about every step he takes will always stay on one leg.” Chinese Proverb

Alain

Yesterday’s tournament hosted by La Pétanque Marinière felt like a winter anomaly. The weather was unusually sunny and warm for mid-February and it felt like Spring came ahead of itself. But who is complaining?

Thirty-two people came from all the Bay Area counties and registered to compete. Among the newcomers, I particularly noticed the Checkered Stranger, a mysterious young man never seen on our field before. I just discovered that his name is Ben Pierce and that he just joined our club. Welcome to the Promised land young man.

Despite a lingering backache I decided to play and temporally desist from my semi-official position as the club photographer. I requested to compete as a wingman since my spine does allow me any strenuous effort, and inherited Caitlin Woodbury as my partner in crime.

It was a very fortunate occurrence. Caitlin proved to be an excellent shooter who saved our butts many times during that day. Thanks to her skills, we managed to win 3 games out of 4. Not too bad, considering my rather restrained participation. As a bonus, I rediscovered that Caitlin speaks very decent French and was able to understand some of my questionable jokes.

But “Once photography enters your bloodstream, it is like a disease.” You cannot stop cold turkey and totally cease shooting regardless of the circumstances. I am fortunate to own a small, unobtrusive Canon camera that I carry in my pocket almost everywhere. This camera has a decent focusing range and between “mènes” I managed to shoot some targets of opportunity. Yesterday I shot at least 20 people…  and they will love me for it!”

 I forgot to mention that the format of this tournament was mêlée, and 2 games were played before lunch and 2 games after lunch. A convenient setup that did not put too much undue strain on my back.

By 4:00 o’clock, all the numbers had been tabulated, and the names of the winners emerged.

1^st place:        Bernard Passemar and Kota-Gutheti Shama
2^nd place:      Christine Morier and Eddy Pay
3^rd place:       Paulo Crustred and John-Philip Wyek

And that’s the way it was.

Alain

PS: Click on “My photos” to watch the pictures

 

You might or might not be aware of it, but French is a tricky language, ready to trip you the first chance it gets. So, on you next vacation to the land of Molière, handle the talking part carefully or you might end in the slammer for seditious talk.

“Prendre son pied” (taking your foot) has two distinct meanings.

It can mean “Taking great pleasure in doing something that is judged to be very pleasant” or “Taking great pleasure in a sexual activity.”

 But let’s backtrack a little…
Today, prodded by my wife, I took a rather long walk. It was pleasant (and politically correct) but I ended up with sore feet. I sat down for a few minutes, and suddenly like St. Bernadette of Lourdes, I saw the light… and heard a voice saying, “get a pedicure, you knucklehead!”

Wasting no time, like in a trance, I drove immediately to a nearby nail salon for assistance. In my hurry to get relief, I forgot to wear a mask and was rebuffed by a small Asian lady. Mask, mask she said.

I apologized and ran back to my car to get my anti-virus shield. I was then authorized to come into the crypt to “take my foot feet.”
Let me now interject a small footnote to my story.

Men are stupid brutes, only dreaming of fights and conquests. Women on the other hand, left the fights to their significant other, and told them they would pray for them… (in a spa or nail salon- detail not clearly mentioned in the conversation).

The men only heard “I will pray for you” and left for war eager and happy. This state of affairs lasted for a long time. The women quietly “took their feet “regularly while never mentioning where they prayed.

But they could not keep this secret indefinitely. Some transgender discovered “le pot aux roses” and alerted his mates. Our women secretly go to a pleasure place and never told us about it. Let’s form a convoy to protest against this practice and put an end to this.

But after some men discovered the pleasure of been pampered regularly, by some very attentive geishas, they refused to join the revolt and started to visit these infamous pleasure palaces.

Today I did it and feel much better for it. Men, wake up, and like your women, enjoy these (not so guilty) pleasures. Go to a spa or nail salon, and “take your foot”… regularly. You will feel better instantly… trust me.

Alain