French lessons

Our Parisian neighbor, Kevin, had never heard of a French Poodle. He's heard of French Fries and French Toast alright, . . but no French dog. So we prevailed upon Kevin, a keyboard musician who is in town meeting with music executives, to teach Birdie a few words in his native tongue. All Kevin got back was a French Kiss, but he didn't seem to mind too much.

Russian visitor, Luda, has studied here
for four years, but her English is
excellent, she says, "because I have an
American boyfriend."

Kevin, who has family and a girlfriend in Paris, loves LA and would live here in a heartbeat if he could. Says that Paris is too crowded, too stressful, too compact, too pressured, which is exactly what we say about LA. He's been to the Louvre many times as a youth on field trips, and hasn't been to the Getty or any museums here.
He loves the sun and it's cold right now in Europe. Very cold. Parisians are angry and stressed about that too, he says.
When Stan reminded Kevin that the Americans had saved the French from the Germans, Kevin reminded Stan that the French had saved the Americans from the British and if they hadn't, we'd be toasting the Queen tonight.
Kevin shares an adjacent apartment in Fawlty Towers with two of his business partners. He knew about the Black Dahlia murder, had no idea it occurred just around the corner on Franklin Avenue.
We sent them on a walk up to the Griffith Observatory and plan a buffet perhaps next week on the patio. We'll probably order some take-out; cooking for the French might be a bit intimidating.