I saw the most remarkable thing after coffee the other day:  a thick rope with knots every foot or so, hanging from a rooftop.  A man was setting up a second rope, as a barrier, while another man scaled the knotted rope.  They were installing a new drain pipe from the gutter of the six-story building.

Certain this was a "French thing", we headed over to tell Michel.  "Ah," gasped Michel, "travaux en corde a noeuds (work on the knotted rope)".  He went on to say the men who work this trade are increasingly rare.

I came home and tried to find information about these knotted rope workers on the Internet.  In fact, there is a syndicate, or union, for these modern day Tarzans.  There are training courses, and safety precautions (once up there, the man was tied to the building), as well as a code of working hours, particularly for the young.

On our trip to the US, We sold about 60 paintings.  This pays for about one quarter of our yearly living expenses.  I only painted five small pictures (outside the Ardley Hall showroom) while I was there, so I need to replenish our supply for our next Paris show in June.

I stood outside the Solferino yesterday, painting a picture for their new menu and their calling cards.  It was a brilliantly sunny day, and people from all corners came by to see what I was doing.

One man praised the colors, and thought the style I painted in was perfect for the building.  He watched for a good ten minutes (which passes quite slowly when someone is over your shoulder). I tried not to make a mistake.  Kids and tourists looked on.  The guard, toting a machine gun, strolled over from the ministry of defense.  "Do I need to move?" I immediately inquired.  "Oh, no," he said, "this is wonderful.  Keep on painting."

At dinner last night, a friend told us her children were at their grandmother's house -- where they (children) are not allowed to speak at the dinner table.  It turned out three of the seven people at the table had grown up not talking at the dinner table.  Every once in a while an adult would ask a child a question, just to check his attention.   

When we visit the US, we are tourists.  We remark over the big cars, big houses and big furniture ("on steroids" our friend in the business, calls it).  Everyone seems to have a "blackberry", and it is legal to use cell phones while driving (not so, here).  I bought a "new" vintage hat and Blair got a briefcase.  Prices are not so different from Paris these days.  Blair and I buy a half-rack of barbecue ribs at a horse race in Virginia, and picnic at the side of the road.  Marvelous.

When we got home, there was an email from an American friend writing a food "blog" while on her trip to Ethiopia.  She "writes her passion".  "Technology Review" touts the blog as a great new innovation.  Maybe I should have one, too, and I take to the Internet to find a platform.  I am slow on the uptake, as I reach for my new knot on the rope.  Just as I get there, I think that maybe I forgot something down below.



Laurie (painting and text) and Blair PESSEMIER
"Le Solferino"; acrylic on canvas; 16 x 20 inches (in process)