Back from Paris, more tired than alive, for a couple of nights in Auvillar.  There's a composers' workshop in the main house now, so I have moved to the office apartment for a few days.  The composers are outside eating dinner, and I am not invited.  I went out to pull my clothes off the line, and we all pretended like I wasn't there.

I don't like it.  It's like being a ghost. 

Perspective: Paris was luscious. My friends are adorable.  The waiters are adorable. And the cats.  The Sancerre (white wine) is delectable in every cafe.  I ate duck breast and pate at least once a day, and sampled tarts made with fresh cherries, peaches, and strawberries.  Maybe more than once a day!

I met with my dear friend poet Chantal Bizzini, and interviewed the fierce and lively Marilyn Hacker.

I'll see my daughter on Thursday for Toulouse and then Barcelona.

And then my workshop writers will have the big house (sounds like a prison!) and all surrounding gites. And we will be the center of the writing universe in Deep France, for a week. Yes I know I sound like a three year old. I didn't get any sleep in Paris!

There's good chocolate in my office refrigerator.   This might be a good time to sample some. Tomorrow, run, diet, pack.  I've programmed the GPS for Toulouse and Barcelona.

Tonight I'll let myself put up a few Paris photos.  Send them with love, and hopes that you all will keep me company next summer in Auvillar!

P.S. I've been reading Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love.  It acts like a friend when you're lonely, it feeds your soul when you're feeling spiritually thin.  It's more than a good book.  It's a companion and a way of steadying oneself in the rocking world.  It encourages openness, risk, and friendship, and discourages whining.  That's why I'm going to go back and read a few chapters now!