“French food served with bikinis?” Not in Newburyport, I can tell you.

Where has this wayward blogger been?

In Vegas? No.

In New York, New Yawk, NYC, the very blogger’s home town? But of course.

My father, who goes to work everyday, an 89th birthday (or 59th, depending on who you are talking to). Am I proud? You bet.

And a son with a small role opening off-Broadway. Am I proud? Oh, my, my, my… yes, yes, yes.

And a little art. Always, a little art.

And I swear, walking down a swanky part of town I see this banner on a restaurant window, “French food served with bikinis.” Middle of the day, restaurant is closed, lots of windows.

If I ever go back, I’m going to go in and ask, “French food served with bikinis??” Who wouldn’t go in and ask such a question with a sign like that? Which I suppose would be the point. Good marketing.

I tell the frogs this on my return. (They are glad to see me.) They proceed to hormonally hop up and down, roll on their little backs, with their ridiculous little legs wiggling in the air, blurping with hysterical laughter.

No, no, it’s “Blinis” not “Bikinis,” they say. “Blinis” are some sort of pancake. Or a fancy, smancy drink made with Vodka. “French food served with “Blinis,” the blurpy little green things insist. (Pretty smart for frogs.)

So, here I am in Newburyport, I can’t go back and find the stupid banner and see if it’s “Blinis,” “Bikinis,” whatever. And ask all those questions I had in mind.

And the frogs are bringing me up to date on all the goings on in Newburyport, MA. Waterfront, schools, landfill, garage, proposed demolition of yet another historic building.

A lot to digest as I try to figure out, just because I’m really curious, what the heck is a “blini?” And the age old question, “would you really eat a it with French food?”

Mary Eaton
Newburyport