I have a reoccurring theme in my morning pages: Paris.
Whenever I don't know what to write, I imagine myself in Paris. Today wrote about how, if I were in Paris today, I would have woke up early went to visit my very french friends at the café and parlez-ed français. Then I would have traipsed to the open air market to buy beautiful cheeses, fruits and veggies. Later, I would have rode my bicycle around the city to take in the architecture. I would have wound up writing and people watching at a bistro in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.
Back to reality. With morning pages complete, I went to have a coffee with my friends at the local coffee shop, I zipped up to the farmer's market to get produce for the week. Then I headed down the beach on my bike to take in the beauty of the ocean on this winter-ish day. I met my chef friend (who has a gourmet french flair is his cooking) back at my house. Now he's making us dinner. I started writing this blog post in my chaise lounge chair and he brought me a slice of parmesan cheese to go with my glass of red wine. Ooh la la!
Only as I ate this slice of cheese did I realize that I had paralleled my fantasy Parisian day in my real Santa Monican day. Café to coffee shop. Open air market to farmers market. Architecture to ocean. Bistro to personal chef.
No Eiffel Tower but I do have a view of the California sunset. And that suits me just fine.