Many mornings, I watch the news. Sometimes it is Télémartin on France2 where I can watch the backdrop of the scene and Parisian traffic and catch up on music, movies, books, French culture and prepare myself for the mix of languages for the day.
Other times it is Anglo news from several countries, but today I can't face the raving lunatic number 45 or other politicians who push violence, racism and ignorance. Instead of war and earthquakes, I have Beethoven's 9th in the background.
My breakfast is a peach, apple juice, a bowl of cinnamon-flavored tea and brioche rolls.
From time to time I look up from my book, set in Boston so it is like a visit to my roots, at the mural Marco painted capturing the essence of the village: the mountains, sea, church, marché, street dances...
Marco's signature is in the corner, along with the sketch of our dog, memorializing how the artist and dog shared a croissant each morning before Marco started painting.
The sky is as blue as the sky in Marco's painting. There are rumors of thunderstorms later.
Rick is playing golf. Wonderful. I hope his back allows him to enjoy every swing of the sport he's so passionate about.
It will be a writing day for me.
I've two major projects.
One is an analogy of my short stories and poems. I'm checking Rick's edits and making a few more of my own.
The other is 1000 Remarkable Women who have been ignored or forgotten despite their extraordinary accomplishments. After more than a year of research, I'm writing up each one. I've about 300 with 700 to go.
It is difficult to reduce 1000-5000 words, give or take into 150 words without losing the essence of these incredible people. I alternate being angry at how many were treated and inspired at their abilities.
Monday isn't sad for me. It is the chance to embrace another week of life and love.
It will be a busy week. Writing, normal household stuff, errands, enjoying the many friends in the village over tea or sangria.
(I'm writing this a half hour later than when I finished breakfast. The thunder came and the rain beat a melody on my skylight.)
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1 comment:
And that made you smile.
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