I'd rather be in France 7/7/17

Ah, splendid view

from a distance

up close

and

from the upper tiers

Wish

I was picnicking 

on the grass

Day break in Mississippi: 20 lb Madchen purrs atop my closed computer. Gave her the "fish-eye." Computer still won't forward, reply or compose. Cuss cat and computer.

Let Schatzie in. Refuses dry food. "Eat it. It cleans your teeth, so they don't fall out." Rebuttal meows. Give him tuna.

JB on the couch with a cigarette. Morning news: large company refuses to hire anyone who smokes. Yeah! That doesn't work here. Make him coffee.

Commercial: Lula says donuts and a bucket of Church's Chicken are one remedy for stress. I need a donut. Maybe several. Chicken later.

Clean up body and attitude. Smear face with Origins Active Charcoal Mask to clear pores. Lie down. Compose self. Go deep. Find my center. Ahhh

A comfortable 73 degrees. Dewy in and out: typical semi-tropical Southern morning. No mosquitoes . . . yet. No need to move fast. Swerve to miss street lump: lost pillow. Muster gratitude we aren't flooded and it isn't snowing.

Donut Shop on #61: Raspberry filled for JB, chocolate filled for me, and a short Cappuccino.

Retrace route. Donut scent tickles nose and taste buds. Tempted to pull over and eat both. Spot tall, shaded garden tomatoes on the vine. Market hopefuls. Temperature rose three degrees, headed to high nineties with Ozone warning.

Give Johnny his donut. Nibble and sip at my French table by the kitchen window. Open plantation blinds a sliver. Filtered sunlight decorates and dances on my table. Parisian sidewalk cafe, sans swooping-in purse snatchers. Ah, accordion music, and a Citron, "Get out of my way!" horn. French girl giving the waiter "Merci!" for a bottle of water. Aaahhh.

Stroll along the Seine. Sidestep doggy-do. Artists out early for the light. Appreciate their work. Tell them so. Love French Berets. Ride the subway to the Louvre. Underground wall art, not graffiti. Spending the day at the Louvre. I miss you Ms. Mona Lisa.

Along The Champs-Elysee: Catch a hint of an exotic fragrance. Stick my wrist out for a sample. Clerk, "Chanel No. 5, of course." To die for.

8 am CST. Begin work sans jet lag. Try to write complete sentences. First take a stroll through "Monet's Garden," my happiest place on earth.

Feeling inspired. Write a few.

Mid-morning break. Read a little of Janet Evanovich's "Smokin' Seventeen." Stephanie Plum, I can't make up my mind whether it should be you and Morelli, or you and Ranger.

Get serious. Write!

Microsoft ClipArt Photo
©Copy 2017  Red Convertible Travel Series

Traveling Furniture

Ours has logged more miles than we have. Occasional furniture it's called. Occasionally we need it for a project or an illness. We move tables, chairs, benches, anything we can mange, from attic to main floor, to basement, garage, back into the house, up to the attic. Portables would be a better name.

Then there are those pieces that won't go away. A 3 x 4 oak library table has been in the office, garage, basement, for sale and is currently in the basement holding my Eiffel Tower clock.

Covered wagon travelers carried their most prized possessions as far as they could. Some made it all the way to Oregon. However, the trail was littered with what didn't: furniture, dishes, linens, musical instrument, tools, and books books books to name a few. An empty wagon would have been the way to travel.

I can tell Krysia is feeling better; her furniture is on the move.

2008 Red Convertible Travel Series