The side effect of completing a big project (like my book and another 12 month collection of letters) is that my habit of being highly productive has come up against a wall of fatigue. Even though my mind has this energetic Do Do Do, my body feels like a lazy git.
So when I spotted Santa taking in the rare winter sun and sipping legal addictive stimulants, I knew I had to figure out a way to find harmony between my productive self and my lazy self. I mean, it’s December and Santa is in his peak period, yet he found time to sit at a café and soak in a few rare rays of Paris winter sunshine. I was at the café with my journal, rushing my way through the pages, scribbling lists and ideas, all the while missing the whole idea of café culture.
Soak it in. Oh yeah. That.
My frantic mind has a name: Nigel.
Nigel is thin, English, sports a tailored suit and scoffs at me constantly. He’s on my back whenever I’m not being super productive on activities that boost the bottom line. He’s very proper. He’s rather tiresome but it’s good that he’s around, because part of me is totally into accomplishing and crossing things off those lists and so is he. Together we get it DONE.
But hibernation and reflection want to get on the calendar.
Today I just couldn’t cope with fighting Nigel. Not after I spotted Santa at a nearby café looking absolutely blissed out over his coffee. So I says to Nigel, “Listen you freakish A-type, I’m so OVER not feeling Christmas with you up in my grill all the time. I need to replenish, dude. We’re talking Christmas friggin’ cheer.”
He pursed his lips, took a dramatic inhale, paused, exhaled and said, “Fine, but at least do a blog post today.”
So here I am at the end of the day about to hit Publish with him leaning over with a pen in hand waiting to cross it off the list. He never stops.
Earlier, I strolled down streets a-twinkle to meet a friend and oogle at the Christmas vittels at La Grande Epicerie on 38 rue de Sèvres in Paris.
It’s the packaging that turns me on.
This massive shop has everything you could ever want from a fancy grocery store: walls of jams, fancy multicolored salts from around the globe, shortbread galore, chocolates, teas and, well… I didn’t even BOTHER with the vegetable section. Who cares when there is a rainbow display of Christmas cookies!
There was a table eight feet high of raisin bread.
We lingered in the ethnic section and laughed at the Canada/USA shelf that offers taco seasoning, popcorn and Campbell’s soups. We loaded up on sauces and soups in the Thai section and collapsed in a booth at the café to indulge in a carrot cake (unheard of in Paris!) and tea.
Christmas bliss is here. *Points at belly.*
Nigel is unimpressed. He’ll get over it.