The Little Words Mean the Most

What I meant 1st time

I'm on my second tweet already

It's going to be one of those nights

The Toy Museum in Pézenas

We stayed away for years. Wrong. Started by a lifelong passionate collector. And he sells from his personal collection, thousands of pieces a year. Every visitor leaves smiling.

A day roaming Roman remains

In Nîmes (the crocodile is the city's symbol) and across the Pont du Gard

Dear Jean-Claude, what I'm drinking and where

miss you both; there's a two-star 5 minutes away and the dinners at Mas de l'Espérance are just as good. With breakfast, homemade jams from their own orchards including tomato flavored with cinnamon.

Aigues-Mortes

As guide authors, John and Pat Underwood, invite: "...imagine the pageantry in 1248, when St-Louis embarked [from this fortified Mediterranean port city] on his crusades with 35,000 men in 1500 chartered ships!"

The inflatable cheese knife

We're doing our "Greatest Hits." Today: the Faugéres AOC, hiking and gawking. This is one of the most well-defined wine regions near us: winding roads, climbing into a different terroir notable for schist (as in, "How can anything grow in pure stone?"). L-r: a local vintner in town; the look of the vineyards hereabouts; us feeling the softness of the moss on the trail; and an "orientation table" pointing to the neighboring town of Herepian, known for its bells.

The inflatable corkscrew

The half-afternoon: Hiking through this hamlet to this favorite obscure castle outside Montpeyroux and back to Pézenas, past the carousel, for a drink with Nikki at her café, Blablablah

There are these wild fruits of southern France

we encounter on our autumn hikes. Arbousier. They are @ their tasty best bright red, soft, fallen from the tree.

Solving "the piece of shame" paradox

Everyone's had firsts. Everyone's had seconds. And there is still one piece of food on the plate. That no one will touch.

Paulette, Fab's mother, called that "Le morceau de la vergogne" -- the piece of shame. You shame yourself by taking it. Your essentially anti-social and selfish nature is on display if you eat the last piece. And therein crouches today's paradox. After all, it's food. It's meant to be eaten. Yet no one dares touch it.

The solution? Announcing that the piece will be discarded, hence "wasted." Then someone will say, "Oh, well, it shouldn't go to waste. I'll take it." Shame converts to public service.