Sorry, Sorry, Sorry!

I almost asked our waiter to take a snapshot of us at lunch, but decided it would be too cruel to post. Patio dining, under the palm trees, bathed in sunlight. This is not a vacation, just a beautiful warm day to order lobster tacos, crab and mango salad and imbibe a margarita. Admittedly, at the side of a busy road and we did have to return to work afterwards, but a nice moment to take a breather.
I had to apologize yesterday, also, to the man whose car I slightly scraped. It was my fault. I didn't see him. It's a bummer for both of us and annoying to have tarnished my spotless record. I'm insured. His car will get fixed. No one was even slightly hurt, at all of three miles per hour. My "victim" had a hard time being gracious. He really wanted to whine more but I wasn't arguing back. He's obviously an accident virgin and a beginner at the school of hard knocks. May his life continue to be so protected.
I went to a construction site meeting this morning at a home in the hills. Many of my clients have main house and pool house, or guest house. More and more have compounds that include a building in which to entertain large parties. Only a few also build a guard house at the gate. Fingers crossed that this job will lead to future referrals to other sporty connections. Sorry that I can't tell you more. 

Speedos, or Nothing...

One last post before we go. I can't believe I ordered a bathing suit online, and it fits. I had to cut out the underwire cup supports. Whose idea were they? It's bad enough trying to wriggle into a bright turquoise patterned, ruched sausage skin, without rigid bands of metal defying the very intent of streeeetch fabric and clouding the forecast of oceanside relaxation.
Last night, in between nursing poor Honor, who was quite miserable, recovering from spay surgery, I got out the Nair. In defiance of those nasty ladies with the hot wax, a pretty successful attempt was made to clean up my act. Pedicure at 9am tomorrow, and I will be beach ready.
(Any potential robbers out there, "forget it, we gave already" and we have house/cat-sitters so double darn to you).
St Martins, Isle Saint Martins, St Maartens is home to a friend of The Artistic One, and he's been inviting us for years. I fully expect to spend time listening to war stories of youthful escapades, from two Septuagenarians in Speedos, who haven't met face to face for three decades. Lovely daughter is accompanying us. We'll have a real generational sampling. I hope, for her sake, she'll find some other age-compatible islanders. I suspect they'll be buzzing around like bees in no time. Why wouldn't they?
I've researched the equestrian facilities and I'm taking my riding kit. Although all the photos are of tourists in short shorts, riding their horses in the surf, I have hopes of some real riding too.
We are making this the extent of our family present exchange, although there will, of course, be gifts for our Host and Hostess.
The Artistic One has packed his watercolor paints and brushes. His memories are tangible. I can't wait to see them unfold.

Sharing My Sunshine

I live in California for a reason; I have paid my dues in colder climes and choose now to live in a place where it doesn't hurt to breathe outdoors in Winter. For those of you who are somewhere chilly, let me share a little of my sunshine with you today.

My morning started with a slow stroll around the block with my trusty canine. Diva has reached a mature age where slow and stop are her two speeds. She was never an athlete; although, in the past, a skate-board or UPS truck could provoke a moment or two when she more resembled a guided missile than a dog.

Where yesterday I noticed one small dark-pink blossom on a young tree there are now a flurry of them. White almond-blossoms and the fat, waxy buds of tulip trees are shouting "Look at me, I was first!" I have a couple of yellow crocus in the pots around my patio and the stiffly erect promise of daffodils protruding the soil.

I spent a hour with my book out on our deck; exposing pale, hairy legs, which luckily no one can see as our garden is not overlooked.

My French Artist and I decided that it would be a good day to eat lunch outside in the sun. I cooked artichokes that we ate with a home-made mayonnaise; the yellow color like sunshine in a bowl. The ingredients include lemon-juice from lemons I picked this morning in my garden and olive-oil which we import for ourselves from a family-member's olive orchard in the South of France. Egg-yolk, mustard, salt and pepper and voila!

We had fresh bread and cold roast lamb with some Provençale rosé wine, in moderation. The shiny fat blue of blueberries kept us smiling all the way to the end.