Every Morning in Paris

Today’s painting is inspired by an Instagram feed featuring coffee with papers or books on cute tables in Paris. And I’m thinking, every morning in Paris I will do this too.

Meanwhile in Houston it was dreadfully cold today. But I still managed to make myself go to yoga and I’m glad that I did. I’m starting to feel overall lighter and more toned. I also made chili this afternoon as it really seemed to be the only thing that would warm up the house, which, even with the heat full blast felt a bit cold downstairs. So I made chili, and I also wrote. I had to look back through my older notes and even text messages with my friend in Galveston about Hurricane Ike, but I managed to get the timeline right and the story is slowly coming together.

In the evening I went to a bar with John and the dogs. His sister and niece joined us, and we sat outside under a big heater and ate gumbo. It’s a good thing that English Pointers are such sizable creatures and also very affectionate. With a canine heating device in my lap I was quite comfortable. And the gumbo was good. It made me miss Beaumont a little, which is a weird thing to say, but such is life. As places and experiences fade into the past, we tend to remember the good things and sugarcoat our memories to the point where they’re no longer accurate. Perhaps I just need to go to New Orleans. Or Lafayette. After all, the best gumbo is in Lafayette.

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