Renoir's Birthday

I have been in love with my new painting journal. It's a great way to organize random tidbits about Paris. I might just have to do a page for every day of the year. Or maybe I'll have to do a Paris Sketch series in addition to the Paris Letters series. All the art sans les mot. Hmmm. The possibilities.

Speaking of...

We've had, I kid you not, beaver issues. One big hungry beaver took down three trees. This was the subject of the latest Painted Letter (formally the Café Letter series, but that took too much explaining. This one is just a painted letter about life these days. No Trumps included.)Oh Canada's national rodent is having quite a par-tay in my backyard. BTW, have you heard the song Silver Beaver? All the Canadian readers are giggling right now. And imagine me having to explain to Christophe in English why Silver Beaver is a funny song. Oh my stars. The first time I heard this song was a drive from Toronto to Tillsonburg, Ontario. It was the first time I decided to adult and rent a car to drive home rather than arrange a ride. And just when I decide to grow up, a trio of seniors sing me a song about their private parts. How deliciously juvenile.