Monday night, walking home from work, Sarah texts and invites me to an art/fashion party, Kris Van Assche’s “Picaflor”. I drop my bag in my treehouse and meet her.
As a special bonus, Mel is there—it’s turning into a very small, special world here. After several glasses of champagne (and just a little bit of stalking the event photographer), Sarah and I finish the night with pizza at La Briciola. Dee-lish.
Tuesday, I had a much anticipated, lovely date with Mel at my neighborhood staple: Experimental. They finally came out with a new menu for 2010, but I reverted by to the old standby, The Experimental. (How lucky that I live near this gem. How lucky I am to have dates with Mel).
Wednesday was the Avatar work outing. Though I wasn’t really psyched to see the movie, it was fun: explosive, 3D entertainment, free popcorn, and gummies for dinner. Oh to be eight-years-old again.
Thursday I had to take a breather. Essential to regroup, decompress, spend time at home, with Milo, in front of the fire. Ah, yes, the fire.
And last night, Michael and I threw a party at his lovely little apartment in the Marais. It was a fun and successful mélange of Frenchies and Americans, whiskey and red wine, chic- and crassness. Exactly as a house party should be.
I got to the gym, I’m chipping away at Stephen King, I had a nice chat with my landlord, I made soup and stocked up on lentils and couscous. We had one of our petit dej’s at work, so yesterday I grazed on pastries, cake and fruit for nine hours straight.
Tonight, I’m going to some kooky cabaret thing with friends from work, and I have a brunch date with Jo tomorrow.
I often feel tired, I never do everything that I want and plan to do, and it’s easy to complain. But life sure is good.