I am in Paris visiting my Mom. It’s freezing out but dry. My mother, who is 95 and frail and -save for dessert- eats less than a sparrow, wants me to take her to a crêperie tomorrow for lunch.
I suspect she wants to go because in the little restaurant next to her retirement home, she’d feel bad having “mousse au chocolat” as an entree and “tarte aux pommes” for dessert (she has taken to eating only the apples, not the crust). In a crêperie, no one cares what you order.
The nearest one is a long walk away (she’ll be in her wheelchair and all bundled up, so she’ll be fine) and I enjoy pushing her around. She is interested in everything she sees and keeps asking whether I am still okay or not. Sometimes I say “I am getting tired, let’s switch”. She laughs.
The Paris sidewalks actually give you a good workout , especially when illegally parked cars block the wheelchair/stroller ramp at pedestrian crossings. One of the great mysteries in life is how come traffic cops are never around when you need them but appear magically when you fervently wish them to be somewhere else…