A local caf

Change of plans. It's a study day. Heavyish snow fall. A day for the birds.

For the birds.
It was snowing heavyishly.

The croissant and coffee at a local caf will have to wait.

I do so want one. A local caf. 

My place to contribute to others accomplishing their dreams and revolutions.

A place to hold others only as capable. As performers. People of action.

But then my Pilates studio can do that too.

Because in the France that I see, a coffee is about how big you want it black. Ristretto. Espresso. Lungo. Americano.

I think I could get a machine to do that in my studio.

Forget milk. Soy. Almond. Skinny. Frothy. Not frothy. Half strength. In a glass. A paper cup.... 

Focus on people, Pilates, revolutions.

I love the clean lines of that. I think I've lost weight, simply from having my coffee black.

Boulangerie & caf ahead.

Unintentional payoff. 

Easy to do because the coffee is simply delicious in Gérardmer, France, no matter where I go.

Sounds like more research coming up.


Here's a story about the café culture in France, well I think Paris, but interesting anyway. And here's the link to the café that the story refers to.

Sylvie the mountain accompagnatrice
from Sens-a-Sons in the middle.
We were almost at the top of Le Hohneck.
The view from the top was magnificent.
It was too cloudy to clearly see to Switzerland,
but Germany could be spotted.
My phone battery got too cold so I could
not get photos. Drats. You've really
got to be there in real life, though.

Tip:
You've really got to be there in real life.