Saturday, December 11, 2010

Snow on Boulevard Raspail    Laurie Fox PESSEMIER   Acrylic on canvas   8 x 24h inches

Artnotes:  The good life

I am back to writing for fifteen minutes every day, in the morning.  “Bonheur du Jour” is the French term for this writing foray.  I enjoy writing these missives although this week has had no “event” to write about.  I guess the snow is something.  It is so beautiful, so unusual at this time of year in the city of Paris.  Today the sun is shining, melting a lot of what ails us – although the sun is not even high enough in the sky to come in my sixth floor window.  It is blocked by a building the same height as ours, across the very broad street. 
That building has the funniest sign at the door:  “centre des troubles anxieux et de l’humeur”.  This doctor treats anxiety and humor.  I think he must have a library of joke books, and after assessing the patient, decides on just the right joke to read him.  Would the doctor laugh alongside?  I think more people laughing makes laughing and good humor easier.
The snow made me laugh yesterday.  And two glasses of scotch to keep warm.   Blair and I danced in the living room, to Gloria Gaynor, Barry White, Al Green and Abba.  We love to dance in the house, but  this is one of the first times we’ve danced here.   Years ago, when we lived in the Seaview apartments in Seattle, Carol, our neighbor, used to invite us over and we’d dance in the daytime.  She even had “dance parties” for the people in the building.  I think the guy downstairs from her was less keen on that.
Friends Flo and Andy had dance parties here in Paris.  Andre would pull out wine from his cellar, and we’d have a meal and dance afterward.  It was big fun. 
Harika isn’t much of a dancer :  two left feet.  I don’t need the humor doctor, thankfully.
The sun makes me feel like a new person.  We walked around the outside of the park today, because it wasn’t open.  Harika tried to squeeze through the grate, but wasn’t able – too many delicious dog cookies.  (I am making organic dog treats to sell in the market here, hopefully).   I was exhausted, because I was wearing the fur coat Blair bought me in Italy.  It’s beautiful but it weighs at least 8 pounds – I hesitate to say “10” but it might be.  I feel like I am carrying  the world on my shoulders.  The good times are killing me.

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