On the 23rd of the coming month I’ll be 35. I’ve been saying I’m in my early thirties for the past few years, but from next month onwards, I can’t say it any more… I plan to take as many pictures (of myself) as possible in the next few weeks which I’ll still be able to label “early 30′s”
YSL’s House in Marrakech
I’m trying to come up with a plan for the gardens. Since we’re on the edge of a forest, surrounded by hundred year old trees we never felt the need to have anything but lawn and a couple of details here or there- but I think we can do better. Create something very special and interesting. The obvious choice, since we have a Moresque style house would be to go down the Majorelle/Saint Laurent path. But our place isn’t Majorelle blue and I’m too freakishly controlling to be surrounded by that laid back style. Plus, I bought those white chairs for the pergola and I have to find a way to make them fit in.
So, I’ve decided to take the white thing further. I’ve bought a ton of huge white planters which I’ll dot around the landscape. They’ll be filled with Iris Reticulata and Peacock Orchids (acidanthera bicolor). I think it’ll give the place a slightly more contemporary feel without being annoyingly minimalistic. That plant on the pergola will hopefully, one day, eventually, cover the whole thing. Its flowers are white with a burgundy centre- same colours as the acidanthera, but a very different shape. I don’t want to ruin the ‘clean’ view we get from the terraces- hopefully this will add some interest without looking fiddly.
Sometimes I see dead people (in photographs of dead people)- I also see Grape Hyacinth (when I buy Grape Hyacinth and it eventually flowers).
Today it rained all day. Tomorrow we’re invited out to lunch. I worked a bit, but only did about 60% of what I should have done. I have an almost headache. More so a head-discomfort. Mysteries of Lisbon is on Sky Arts, but I’m not really paying full attention. I’m finding it rather tiring. There are a ton of things I must do this week. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
“With The Heretics he has returned to similar ground and, as if taking on Russell’s mantle, sets out to question individuals who persist in beliefs about the world that are, in his view, demonstrably false. “I like to write about these people,” Storr confesses, “it is like being a tourist in another universe.” At first glance the chapters of this book seem like a straightforward series of magazine pieces, with Storr in the role of objective journalist driven to uncover the truth, then persuade others of his arguments. We expect him to poke fun at some of the wackier believers – the UFO-spotters, yoga fundamentalists and past life regression fanatics have some rollicking arguments with the belligerents among them, and emerge crowned in the conclusion, a champion for science. But as you read on, something darker, more complex, and potentially more interesting begins to unfold. The other universes he tours are brought rather closer to home: the heretics “are magic makers”, he tells us, and he feels “kinship” with them. This is not what we expect of the sceptical journalist. He confounds other expectations by being naturally shy, and by refusing to champion anything.”
The Heretics: Adventures with the Enemies of Science by Will Storr – review | Books | The Guardian.
This is what happens behind closed doors when a gay man and three women from Suburbatoria have drinks:
Did you hear David Beckham is in Marbella?
Let me guess. He bought a house in Sierra Blanca, across the street from Simon Cowell.
No, I heard he’s doing an Adidas commercial.
A while back one of those real housewives people was here too.
The one that’s related to Jackie Kennedy’s sister? _____’s uncle is her second husband’s nephew.
No, one from the OC. Of the blonde variety
Here? Impossible.
Not here, here. In Marbella.
Marbella’s gone to the dogs.
That’s why we all left and came here.
Did you hear _____ is in Germany to have a prostate operation?
I heard you can get incontinent after that.
Worse, you can become impotent too.
Have you seen his wife lately? Impotence is probably a huge relief.
Those teeth and the blue eye-liner. Her face looks like some sort of hunting trap.
How about the hair? It looks like a bad wig.
I don’t know why they came to live here. They should have gone somewhere more like them.
You used to socialize with them.
I wanted to be nice.
You? Nice? Hardly.
Fine, I didn’t want to be cruel.
Laughs
I love your new outdoor chairs.
Do you? I loved them in my head, now I’m thinking they’re a bit too white and modern.
They look like the Philippe Starck chairs
Except mine were dirt cheap
How cheap?
40 euros each.
Where?
Leroy Merlin
Unbelievable, they look expensive
They’re comfortable
I’m tired of that woven plastic faux-rattan thing
Everyone’s got it now
That’s the problem living in a place like this. You do something and 5 minutes later everyone within a 5 mile radius copied it
That’s why I’m leaving
Are you really going to France?
Absolutely. Somewhere that’s not serviced by Easy-Jet, Ryan Air or any other discount airline
Laughs
I went to _____ yesterday. You can’t take a step inside without spending 50 euros. A bit of paté, some charcuterie. 50 euros. I usually go to _____ which is half the price, but I was in a hurry yesterday.
Remember when _____ first opened. You used to joke we’d need mace to go there and not get mugged.
I still feel that way sometimes. I always tell Mike to stay nearby. I used to walk really fast when people came near me.
You’re all a bunch of snobs
So, are you really moving here?
Of course she’s moving here. The situation now is ridiculous. She lives in a huge property alone, we live in a huge property alone. If she moves here at least we put the rest of the house to use and help each other a bit.
Yes, now I keep thinking that if I fall in the shower on a Friday, no one will know until the maid comes Monday morning.
That’ll probably be true if you live here too. The guest wing is way at the other end of the house.
At least I can scream for help.
We won’t hear you. Plus, when you’re dead I’ll tell your children you gave me the ______ tapestry.
Bastard
It’s ____’s big birthday this year. She wants to take everyone on a trip.
I don’t do group trips. Being stuck with people for a week. Insane.
She’s probably going to invite the _____’s and the _____’s
So annoying.
She feels sorry for them. Nobody invites them to anything.
There’s a reason for that. They’re unbearable.
Well, I’m not going anywhere with those people.
She’s going to be terribly disappointed if you say no.
I know, but I just can’t. I’d end up being unpleasant and that would ruin things for everyone. I’ll get her a nice gift to compensate.
You always do that. You get something amazing and make everyone else’s gifts look cheap.
I know. I love doing that.
I think we need more wine.
So the little jack-ass is stepping down. I just wish Hitchens were still around to slap him around a bit. At least TDB brought back a very good 2010 article he wrote, you can see it here. Yonks ago I wrote about the Pope for a Spanish paper. I focused mainly on the ‘everyone had to be part of the Hitler Youth‘ line- primordially because a number of Jehovah’s witnesses (some from Ratzinger’s own town), refused to join any Nazi organization. Some paid with their lives. I’m also amused at how Catholic commentators are trying to rewrite history and propose the Pope was the great anti-pedophilia guy of the institution, when in fact, he spear-headed the massive cover-up.
In case you didn’t know: On May 18, 2001, Cardinal Ratzinger, then Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, wrote a letter to the Catholic Bishops on how to handle abuses that were occurring in the Church. It ordered that “cases of this kind are subjected to the pontifical secret” (Houston Voice online, August 29, 2005). That means keep quiet, it also asserted the Church’s right to hold inquiries behind closed doors and keep the evidence confidential. Breaching pontifical secret carries serious penalties.
Anyway… My first flowers of the season are starting to bloom. Someone gave me some stunning azaleas. A friend is separating after a seven year marriage- terribly sad, but I think it’s the right choice in the long-run. We invited him to spend some time here at the house and he can also bring the children for vacation in summer. Things to do ease the transition. I bought myself a box set of Maria Dolores Pradera. A whiskey sour, a little cigar and Pradera sounding through the garden as the weather gets a bit warmer- excellent combination. Sometimes it looks as if the leaves and branches are swaying to the music. I also bought lots of flower seeds- I want flowers year-round. Business isn’t bad. I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but I was offered a partnership in a big interior design firm. A fifty percent partnership, which is scary. If I had a ton of money stashed away (…aah, those were the days), I wouldn’t dream of taking on this sort of responsibility- but as things are, I just have to do it.
I leave you with a funny (real) video of the Pope watching topless acrobats:
And my azaleas
A.C. Flory sent me a note yesterday about genes and understanding who we are. I’ve been thinking about that since my cousin is visiting. He’s twice my age. We never really had any contact for most of our lives- yet- we like the same types of wine. We smoke the exact same type of mini-cigars. When we took him to the grocery store, I watched him selecting products which happened to be the same ones I buy myself. He has a passion for horses (and an obsessional passion for history), and lives right outside Paris in a property that I could easily have chosen to live in myself. None of that applies to my other family members, which makes me wonder if it’s coincidence or if we happened to inherit a similar set of genes that mould us in this particular way. Once we reach a rather significant amount of similarities, I don’t think we can still put it down to coincidence. Can we? Or, can we?
They’re off to Seville tomorrow for a day. Then back here on Monday. Last night we took them to Pura Tapa and when they get back we’ll take them to Venta Garcia. This evening Mrs. cousin made a really wonderful dinner for us. She made it seem effortless too. Then we looked at family pictures…
The ‘holiday season’ is catching up with me. I feel like I’ve been drinking non-stop since Christmas- perhaps, because I’ve been drinking non-stop since Christmas. It’s just been one thing after another. A dinner here, a lunch there. People visiting from Germany, then England, now France- and it’s really quite impossible to do all of that ‘properly’ without alcohol. Next week I should do a couple of alcohol free days. Or, at least alcohol-light days. No hang-overs, though. I think my body gave up on hang-overs and just decided it wasn’t worth fighting me on this one because I’ll win in the end anyway.
Cousin is out doing horsey things. Mike has a friend that has a country property and twenty horses, so he organized some riding. Last night he told me that the chateau of Champs-sur-Marne is going to be re-opened this year. You may have seen it in a movie called Dangerous Liaisons. They’re going to do an exhibition which will highlight the families of the owners of the place through time. That includes our family who owned it for much of the 19th century. The descendants of previous owners are invited, and as much as I hate travelling, I’m tempted to go. Apparently the gardens are quite impressive.
Cousins arrived last night. We ate, we drank- ’til late. I got a stunning pair of 19th century plates with our family crest on them. I also got a hardback copy of Les Ligneaux. Our mutual cousin, the baroness’, fictionalized account of the family’s last summer at Migneaux before the death of her grand-mother (my great-great grandmother). The house once belonged to Marie Louise O’Murphy (mistress of Louis XV)- it was later bought by our family. Now it’s been turned into apartments. I’m going to hang the plates in the dining room.
I had to get up at 8am today. For someone who has insomnia (regularly), that’s a horrible thing. Especially horrible since it was to go to the dentist. I hate the morning light. I hate mornings in general, actually. They remind me of childhood. Having to get up for school. The horrible powerlessness of having no control over one’s life. Sometimes I’d sleep with half of my school uniform on just to get an extra 5 minutes of sleep. The dentist had no other time at such short notice, so I had to take it. He removed my one and only crown and wants to remove my two remaining lower wisdom teeth. He also wants to do something with a laser that’s going to cost a thousand euros. My next appointment is on the 4th (in the afternoon). I’ll let him do what he wants and then probably spend another four years without going. I’m on antibiotics and supposedly not supposed to have tea, coffee or alcohol today. I’m also not supposed to smoke, but I’ve already broken that rule and had a cigarillo after a very light lunch of pipérade. I’ve been able to keep to my 3 to 5 cigarillos a day rule without much trouble. When someone offers me a cigarette I still take it, but that’s not a big deal since I don’t leave the house much. Moderation seems a much more pleasant way to live than total abstinence. If I can’t do things I enjoy, what’s the point of being alive anyway?
…”Like many Enlightenment writers, Diderot preached the right of the individual to determine the course of his or her life. But the type of liberty that underpins Diderot’s body of work differs markedly from today’s hackneyed understanding of freedom. His message was of intellectual emancipation from received authorities — be they religious, political or societal — and always in the interest of the common good. More so than the deists Voltaire and Rousseau, Diderot embodied the most progressive wing of Enlightenment thought, a position that stemmed from his belief that skepticism in all matters was “the first step toward truth.” He was, in fact, the precise type of secular Enlightenment thinker that some members of the Texas State Board of Education have attempted to write out of their high school curriculum.”
Full text:
We tested everything in the guest wing for my cousin’s arrival on Wednesday. Wouldn’t you know… the water heater wasn’t working and something was wrong with the central heating. Now we’re scrambling to get everything fixed in time. I also have an appointment with the dentist on Monday, something I avoid like the plague- but I have a crown that’s loose.
I’m a bit exhausted by work. Mentally and physically. It’s very hard to keep everything in order in my head and still drink the amount I drink. I found someone who makes some rather beautiful tapestries from antique saris. We’re going to have one mounted on wood to hang over the sofa in the house I’m working on.
Glorious beading
I’m also working on a Yixing tea-pot. It belongs to the same person who brought me the Böttger coffee pot that I mentioned a little while back. Both will probably be going to auction in London. It’s also worth quite a bit for such a little thing.
Yesterday we put the big mirror up in the larger living room. If you look at it from one sofa it reflects the big painting. From the other it reflects the pool- quite nice. I think we might keep it after all. I know when I say ‘I just want to see how it looks in the house’, Mike thinks I do it as a ploy to bring more stuff into the house (which he thinks is already over-furnished)- but it genuinely wasn’t- at least not consciously. I’ll put some pictures up later. We’re going out to lunch at a friend’s place. An apartment in the marina. Yesterday we were discussing communal living again. Our friend who was going to come live here for a while last year, but then didn’t because their place didn’t get rented, might be coming if they get renters this year. I’m feeling positive about it. There are parts of the house we never use. Some I honestly only see once or twice a year and even then it’s just to clean. What’s the point of all this empty space when it could be helpful to someone?
It arrived. When I bought it I’d just seen pictures and hadn’t looked closely at the design. As I sat in front of it yesterday (looking at the carving rather than at myself), the penny dropped. It’s a French ‘marriage mirror’. Something given to a bride on the day of her wedding. There’s a symbolic message in the pediment. Can you guess what it is? It’s quite romantic- I’m tempted to keep it!
The quality of the gilding is outstanding. It has a few points of missing decoration. Fortunately, very easy to repair (circled in red below) and I can do it myself. Having things this size and this delicate transported makes my stomach turn. Literally. I sometimes get so anxious I throw-up during the process (sorry for the visual). So taking it to a restorer would be unnecessary turmoil and I’m pretty good at moulding plaster on wire. Yesterday I did the wire and first layers of plaster. Today I’ll continue building up the plaster and when it’s dry I’ll sand it, apply clay and gild it. It ends up being much more stable (and secure) than carving and attaching wood. We’ll hang it once I’m finished with the restoration, meanwhile, here we are in the entrance hall.
Okay, millionaire is understating it. There’s talk of a job, perhaps a huge job at a giant house for someone who really doesn’t have to worry about their bills. My bones are saying, no, no, no. Absolutely not. Not my style. Not my thing. My head is saying it might be all we need to get back there. To have a bit more security. No offer has materialized as of yet, so I may be panicking entirely unnecessarily- but I tend to do that. If push comes to shove, and something comes of it, I think I’m doing it. We’d be a team of people and I’d only have to work with the only person in the team who I can stand (like?). I need to practice staying very quiet and controlling my patronizing/condescending tone. Sunglasses tend to be sufficient in hiding the eye-rolls. I’m a bit wary of team-work. I’m of a nervous disposition so I end up taking control and ‘appropriating’ everyone else’s job. Que será, será.
This week I bought a mid 19th century mirror from Cristina, one of my favourite dealers in Madrid. It’s nearly 2 metres tall. It’s going to be delivered tomorrow and I’ll hang it somewhere just to see what it looks like in the house. Then I’ll take some pictures and you can see what it looks like in the house. It’s really not a time to be buying things for myself, so I will sell it on, but for a little while it’s mine. MINE! MINE, I say!
I’ve been actively avoiding wordpress and non-business emails this whole year! WordPress because I still hate the blue and white ‘simplified’ thing- but now I’ve found a way to get to the regular add new post by going to the dashboard. I also hate the new reader. It’s confusing. Hard to see who wrote what. I don’t like change. I’ve just gotten comfortable with the old format, I don’t want to waste my time learning a whole new thing.
I’ve been working a lot lately. Much more than usual. I still have mirrors and side tables and an outdoor table and a number of other things to find for that project that began in December. Someone brought me a coffee-pot they want to sell. It’s tiny, under 6 inches. Probably modelled by Johann Jakob Irminger circa 1712.
It’s got some issues. The lid doesn’t appear original (although of the same period). It’s also got three tiny chips. The gold mounts are quite beautiful. There’s an almost identical piece with darker glaze at the British Museum. In perfect condition it would be worth around 50,000 euros (US$ 66,845). Alas, it is not in perfect condition. It’s going to have to go to London to be inspected by someone who knows more about this than me- then my job is to select the best venue/method of sale and wait for a commission. I hate commissions. It seems so undignified to take them.
A cousin contacted me a couple of days ago. Not a close cousin (those, I avoid). He’s French. His name is Jean and he’s always been exceedingly kind to me. His wife had a stroke a few months ago and they need a break, a few days in the sun. So they’re arriving on the 1st of February for a week. He’s from a rather grand and interesting part of the family (I won’t deny I’m a bit envious of his history). In the portrait below you can see his great-grandfather, N. Thiebaut (furthest to the right, standing up), at the signing of the peace treaty that ended the Spanish-American war (circa 1898?). The painting is hanging in the White House.
Exhibition of Northern European painting of the 19th and 20th centuries.
From 9 December 2012 to 5 May 2013, the Groninger Museum will present the exhibition entitled Nordic Art 1880 – 1920. This exhibition is a tribute to the peoples and cultures of the Nordic countries, and provides an overview of 19th and 20th-century North European painting. The splendid landscapes, portraits and scenes from everyday rural life display both the similarities and the differences between the Nordic countries. The exhibition focuses on the time when movements such as Realism, Naturalism and more divergent styles such as Symbolism and upcoming Modernism existed side by side.
Nordic Art 1880 – 1920 – Groninger Museum.
A couple of nights ago we were sitting by the fire. I was flanked by Morgan and Bessie and Rudy was nesting under Mike’s arm. Mike had his kindle in hand and I had my sketch book and was working on ‘my project‘. We looked like this:
As we sat there Mike was talking about Rudy’s enthusiasm for life. He wakes up and you can see from his expression he thinks getting up is his favourite thing in the world. Then having breakfast is his favourite thing in the world. Then taking a walk is his favourite thing in the world. Then sitting on the sofa is his favourite thing- and as the day goes on he just keeps going with the most wonderful attitude imaginable (until he collapses in exhaustion). As I’m particularly prone to getting obsessed with the minutiae of life and anxieties- I’m hoping to take a page from Rudy’s book this year. I digress- I looked around the room in detail (as I do every room I enter) and thought: ‘This is nice‘. Then, I thought: ‘One day I want to have a life just like this’. Then the coin dropped. I need to breathe and enjoy. Breathe. Enjoy. Breathe. Enjoy. There’s nowhere else I need to be, nowhere I have to go. No one else I need to become. Breathe. Enjoy. Breathe. Et pui je fume.
In any event- Happy New Year to all. I’ve met some great people around here (mentioned below in no particular order!) -so to them: do accept my best wishes and thanks for your kindness.
Ricky, Colin, FreePennyPress, Clare Flourish, Carolina Courtland, Vickie Lester, Metan, Madd Suspicions, FoolsMusings, ACflory, JohntheAussie, Makagutu, Lucianus, Cassie being Cassie, MyFrenchHeaven, Joe, Dr. Karen Rayne, Melanie, Dawn Landau etc… (and those are just the ones I can remember without having to go through a list, if you weren’t mentioned that doesn’t mean I’m rejecting you, just that my head is currently spinning a bit and I have a ton of work to do even though it’s the last day of the year!)
NEW YORK (AP) — At age 83, Edith Windsor gets plenty of compliments for her courage to take on the federal government in a landmark case that has put attitudes about gay America squarely before the Supreme Court.
But the Philadelphia-born former IBM executive scoffs at how much gumption was necessary to go to court at a time when society seems to be getting more conscious that a closed-minded approach to differences in sexuality appears to do more harm than good.
“The world has progressed,” Windsor says. “At the beginning of World War II, they really did think we had horns.”
Read it here:
NY plaintiff: Gay benefits ‘bigger than marriage’ | WashingtonExaminer.com.
We were back at VG (near Casares) today. The owner, Jesus (no relation to the one from Nazareth), sat with us on the terrace after lunch. The food was GLORIOUS. He asked me to stop calling it ‘lovely’. Something or another about it sounding condescending. I can assure the world no condescension is/was intended- at all. On the contrary. In this case the place is beautiful, unpretentious and the food is very carefully selected and prepared. I’ve been around (and I don’t mean just the block), so I have a bit of an idea of what’s good and what isn’t. They offer a three course menu for 12 euros. The house red is excellent. I had a sea-food soup, duck confit and instead of a dessert I had a café americano (because thin, pretty people, like me, don’t eat dessert).
The owner is what some people call A Gay. Which is rather disconcerting, since I’m pretty much the official gay of this entire area. I excuse him because he’s about 30 minutes outside of my designated territory. He’s considering re-doing the place and he’s just come back from NY where he stayed at the Soho Grand. He loved the style. I think it could easily be re-interpreted and adapted to this part of the world.
Afterwards we were invited to coffee at _____’s old country estate. Rather glorious. I’m 99.9% sure the wallpaper was de Gournay. I took pictures discreetly (I did have permission!). The gardens are particularly wonderful (see below).
I was given two bottles of champagne today for the new year. Over Christmas someone gave me a Nespresso machine- surely what I need is more alcohol and caffeine???? Really???? I drink PG Tips tea mostly. I only smoked three cigarettes- all of which were offered by other people and I accepted. Tomorrow I shall smoke 01 Dannemann cigarillos. First 3 pictures are of VG, the other six are of the estate…
Christmas went off with what could be called military precision. There was a small eight minute delay- at which point Mike and I were in the kitchen and I said through gritted teeth: ‘You have caused an eight minute delay and you’re throwing all of my timing out.’- He knew I was serious and he caught up. The idea to do it all in the little living room was actually very good. Everyone seemed relaxed and in a good mood.
We moved some furniture around and let people go where they wanted, without any sort of pre-organized order. It flowed well. The two big successes were the salmon tartare (to which I added salmon roe) and the baked gammon with Cumberland sauce. No boiling or soaking, just baking.
The project for which I got that set of chairs a week or so ago has turned into something quite huge. They liked the chairs so they asked me for a table, then a desk, then some rugs- and now maybe more. I seem to be turning into the main supplier. I feel tired. Emotionally and physically, but I think I just have to keep going.
This evening I got a call saying Mr. Ortiz-Patiño is in the hospital and this may be the end. If you’ve never heard of the family, read this. Or look through the amazing things they’ve sold through Sotheby’s and Christies, or their former home in Paris, the Palais de Montmorency. He’s kind of a pillar of Sotogrande as the creator of the best club here and it’s almost shocking to think of the place without him in the background.
I have furniture to find so if I don’t make my way back here by the New Year, my wish is that ‘almost’ all of you get everything you want from life in the 365 days to come! 
The rest? well, sorry, my wishing-well has limited space.
and all through the house, is a mess.
The dining table has stacks of plates and serving platters that have just been cleaned
The silver was polished yesterday
Napkins are in their designated cloisonné rings
Champagne will be served on arrival, by the fireplace
Self-service from the seafood-buffet
-then we sit at the table
The centerpiece has just been delivered. I can’t take credit for it, it was done by Sabine (my amazing interior designer friend) and sent over as a gift. It’s about 2 feet in diameter, just huge and low and wonderful.
One of our guests called yesterday to announce they had a rather spectacular gift for us. I found the sound of that a bit frightening, ominous? They’re all going to Morocco for the New Year and Tuscany next summer- it better not be tickets or stays for any of that because I’ve already said I don’t want to go. And I hope it doesn’t make my gifts look bad. I’ve gone for an entirely unconsidered selection of pashminas, scarves and some amusingly bright jewelry (some in coral and some in turquoise) from a Greek jeweller. I didn’t know what to get for the film director guy that’s coming, so I have to ashamedly admit he’s getting a box of chocolate. I’m rather impressed he’s coming even though I’ve been unkind/snarky to him a couple of times-
My hair has been cut and tonight we’re off to dinner at a glorious penthouse in the marina. Small group and I believe we’re having lamb. I mustn’t go overboard drinking because I need all my faculties for tomorrow.
The house was photographed again last week, which is good because it forced us to clean up a bit before the x-mas party. I get to keep the photos they won’t use, so here they are. They went for corners and details instead of long shots of whole rooms. It’s the first time a magazine has done that here- it’s cute.
Mike and Sabine convinced me we should use the smaller living room instead of the big one on x-mas. I was hesitant, but I’ve agreed. It’ll involve moving furniture and putting more three seaters in the room, but that’s easy to do. Everything that could be pre-bought is already here. Now all I’m missing is fresh salmon for the tartare and prawns for the seafood table.
10 days ago I was smoking approx. 45 cigarettes per day (as I had for the past many years). 8 days ago I reduced to 15 per day, and as of yesterday I no longer smoke cigarettes- instead I smoke 2 Dannemann cigarillos per day. Occasionally I intend to cheat and have a 3rd. I was smoking mostly out of habit and not sitting down to enjoy the experience. With the cigarillos and a drink, it becomes a pleasant ‘moment’ in my day. Something to look forward to.
Here’s the house… the weather is glorious, btw.
Morgan, the most elegant dog in the world.
