Two quick Southwest flights, a delayed Air France flight, an easy taxi ride on a drizzling Sunday morning, and we are here again in our tiny, perfect 5th arrondissement pied-a-terre. Two shopping trips for staples, a nap, and we are ready to have a light dinner at Brasserie Balzar, famous old watering-hole for Parisian academics, on rue des Ecoles. Tomorrow, when everything is closed in Paris, I shall cook paupiettes provencale, ready-made at the local boulanger. Then the market reopens on Tuesday, and I shall probably try something simple, like quail.
While I was en route, Herman Cain "suspended" his campaign. It is looking more and more like Newt. After a good night's sleep I shall resume blogging. The Newt-dissertation blip on this blog site is almost over, and I remain with all of you, faithful readers and interlocuters.
Perhaps I shall try a very brief micro-tutorial on Durkheim's Suicide. Most of the book is taken up with now outdated statistics, but the theoretical portions are classic.
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