AN INNOCENT ABROAD

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of Paris [my apologies to the Bard.] It was in the eighties today, sunny and lovely, and all Paris was in the streets and the cafes enjoying what may be the last such day before autumn. I decided to show the flag, and wore my Obama T-shirt, which drew approving nods and thumbs up from several passers-by. For those of you who are following this blog, I can report that the quail were a success, along with some delicious sauteed mushrooms. Julia Child was entirely correct in her profound observation that everything tastes better with butter.

And now for another of my Panglossian predictions. [I seem awash in literary allusions today -- a nod to culture.] The tide has turned. The Republican hysteria over Obama's anodyne talk to returning grade schoolers has made them laughing stocks. George Will has broken all precedent by writing the first true words of his entire career, about Afghanistan, no less. And with Congress returned to Washington from their long August encounters with the total crazies of the wingnut right, we are back to serious work on a large, history-making health care reform bill.

Herewith the prediction. A bill will pass. It will be imperfect. It will be a major step forward. And it will not be the last word on the subject.

Unlike the pundits of the mainstream media, I can actually remember what I say. Therefore, if I turn out to be wrong, I will eschew Dorade royale and quail and hazelnut encrusted rabbit and instead, in full view of my vast audience, consume a healthy portion of crow [without the blessings of butter.]

Meanwhile, we are off for dinner at La Rotisserie du Beaujolais -- across the street from Tour d'Argent, just en face the Seine, seated in our favorite window alcove, and -- if all works out well -- visited by the large, fat, lazy cat who graces the restaurant with his presence -- a cat appropriately named Beaujolais. Life truly does not get any better than this.