We are at the end of our rope in Paris.  We have about 45 days worth of funds remaining.  We are applying for jobs in exotic realms, like China and Oman.  I'm advertising architectural and design services on "craigslist" Paris.  I've arranged my wardrobe for "marketing position" interviews.  We have a small drawing project.

The trouble with moving to a great place like Paris is that you can never return to where you came from and be happy.   So we're in pursuit of a new nirvana. 

We went to our favorite lunch spot with M this week -- the best Italian food north of Milan.  The noodles and sauces are exactly like in Italy -- the owners, a fiery couple, are authentic, as well.   M has a little house for sale for us in Crete -- we could live there for a fraction of what we spend in Paris.  Paris is the fourth most expensive city in the world, after Oslo, and two Japanese cities.

Another friend is planting pepper trees in Madagascar.  I picture a hotel and restaurant (featuring red peppercorns) on the plantation, but it may be premature.  I bone up on recipes, just in case.

A french busybody admonishes us for having traveled under these circumstances. "We like to live while we're living," Blair tells her. She sucks her teeth and crams another five centimes in her pocket.  She's saving for her grandkids who will spend it all before her grave is cold -- it is her choice.

A giant package came this week from a friend in Alaska.  She's making chipotle chili jelly.  I've had it for breakfast and lunch, and it's terrific.  Long ago, our concierge and I at 72, rue de Lille had a plan to bake cookies to sell them in all the little Arab grocery stores.  She lost her job after a fistfight with the notaire in the building.

An associate sent us some samples of carpet to peddle to the right customers.  We're thinking of taking them south, where people build villas and grand homes.  We both love the region around Collioure and Port-Vendres on the French/Spanish border.  We can make a sweep of the cote d'azur before the big season.

It is a test of faith to believe in oneself and the ability to go on.  And we are too old to join the circus.


Laurie (text) and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
"Circus Gottani"  oil on linen   15.5 x 18 inches