Going to our friends Denise (W.R., Panty Lady...) and Vlad's house, I have come to find out means that I must not eat for twenty four hours before I arrive, so when Denise serves lunch I have plenty of room to indulge in the feast she sets before me. This afternoon Denise treated us with freshly picked homemade confit figs with chocolate balsamic vinegar on goat cheese with fresh thyme and Kir royal.
That was lunch enough, but not for Denise who does lunch like most people do a wedding. I am the luckiest girl to have a friend who LOVES to cook, and does so like any starred chef.
It is a good thing I wear baggy dresses and elastic pants.
A Healing Bowl is what Denise called lunch:
Brown rice, turmeric sweet potatoes, lightly dressed arugula, a poached egg, roasted pistachios, and lemon herb dressing.
I called it a flashback to vegetarianism the 70's in California... There I was long brown hair, braless, unshaven legs, wearing cotton shoes that worn out in a week, no make up, praising Jesus and eating tofu, brown rice and Jerusalem artichokes.
But here I am in France with dyed blonde hair, a bra, no hair on my legs (a long time gift from chemo), wearing make-up, leather shoes, praising love in all religions dining on a healing bowl with a glass of rose.
Life is one helluva good ride.
Two hunks and a bestie.
Please take not that French Husband has a cork screw in his hand ...
Under my breath I am saying, "What are you doing?" as I feel him pinching me or something...
And tickle he did...
They look nice those guys, but one of them is poking my ribs and it tickled in an ouch sort of way.
A glorious twilight sky lead us back home.
Do you see the rays? It was incredible...
The entire day.