Meet Me In Paris

I’m very sad right now, because last night I was surfing Facebook Marketplace in bed and I saw a Paris painting for sale for only $35. My heart leapt and I showed it to Ken. “Look!” I said. “It’s so beautiful!” and then under my breath I whispered, “I really just love it”, hoping beyond all hope that Ken would spring into action and offer to take me there in the morning to buy it. That didn’t happen mostly because Ken looked at it, kind of confused, and then went back to sleep. Which is probably a good thing, because I currently have very many many paintings of Paris. You may or may not know that for a long time, I’ve been obsessed with vintage paintings of Paris. You also may or may not have seen the type I’m referring to, the impressionistic ones that look really drippy and weird from up close, but from far away begin to resemble a street full of shops and cafes, with people strolling along, and the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe in the background. I adore them—they’re not expensive and whenever I’m feeling down, I look at one and imagine myself wandering down a rainy Paris rue, and it makes me feel better. The problem is, Ken hates them:

Me: Ooh, look! A Paris painting!
Ken: You already have 16 of the damn things. No more!
Me: But this one would be perfect for my bathroom…

So now, if I see one, I have to promise I’m only buying it to resell it. Which I’ve done a couple of times, but apparently there aren’t many other people as obsessed with Paris paintings as I am, because they tend to sit in my antiques booth for a while. But last weekend, I was in the midst of rearranging furniture in the hope of turning the alcove in our bedroom into a “reading nook”, when it suddenly occurred to me that a Paris painting was exactly what the nook needed, and I knew exactly where to find one. In fact, a painting of the perfect size had been languishing in my booth for several months and I was planning on going there last Sunday afternoon to put some fresh stock in. “This is perfect,” I thought to myself. “I’ll bring it home with me.”

When I arrived, my boss greeted me enthusiastically at the door. “Guess what!” he exclaimed jovially. “You just sold those two Paris paintings, you know, the ones that have been here for months. Literally half an hour ago—you just missed it!”

“No!” I gasped. He looked confused, both of us being in the “selling of things” business, so I had to explain my lack of excitement.

“Never mind,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll find another one.”

The very next day, I did. And it broke my heart.

I was at Goodwill, a charity shop, after work on Monday to drop off some odds and ends from the alcove mentioned above. I was helping the girl unload my car, when suddenly a man sauntered past us through the parking lot. He was CARRYING A PARIS PAINTING. And it was a beautiful one, in an antique frame. I could see the Arc de Triomphe from where I stood, stunned and speechless, box of knick knacks in hand. I cannot accurately convey the sense of horror I felt as I watched him get in his car and drive away, knowing that if I’d been there half an hour earlier AGAIN, the painting would have been mine.

And because I’m a grown-ass woman, I didn’t cry, although I badly wanted to. No, I did what any normal person would do—I called Ken:

Me: The universe hates me! I just missed out on a gorgeous Paris painting by like half an hour!
Ken: Hahahahaha!
Me: Why are you laughing?!

I tell you all of this not to elicit sympathy—in fact, you’re probably thinking Ken was right to laugh, and I really don’t need another painting of a city I’ve never been to—but that’s not the point. The point is, in fact, that the universe is taunting me, and I don’t know why.

Here are some thoughts:

1. The universe hates me.
2. The universe hates Paris.
3. The universe agrees with Ken that I have enough paintings of Paris.
4. The universe doesn’t care about me at all, and things are just random.

But then, the next day, I happened to glance up and realized that in an obscure corner of my office, there was a small Paris painting hanging there, and wouldn’t it be better placed in the new reading nook than tucked away in a spot where Ken can’t see it? See, I’m nothing if not thoughtful, and maybe the universe loves me after all. And if Ken really loved me too, he’d take me to Paris–or at least take me to the city where that $35 Paris painting is waiting…

In other news, things have been incredibly busy around here, what with the Writer-In-Residence role and the launch of the new press. I’ve already signed six authors–3 for the fall and 3 for the spring–and I’ll be making an announcement about that on August 16 so stay tuned!

(Update: Ken read this and because he’s awesome, he immediately said, “If you want the painting so much, we can get it tomorrow.” So later today, it will be mine…mwah hah hah!)

45 thoughts on “Meet Me In Paris”

  1. I’m so excited for you to get that painting! I don’t need more glass starfish, but when I see one in a gift shop, I know I have to buy one–if the price is right–I think they bring me good writing/creative luck. So, hey–cheers to what inspires us!

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  2. It’s would be awesomer if Ken would buy you the painting AND take you to Paris!! I’m so happy he got you that painting, your are a collector of said art work, not a hoarder, there is a difference, so tell that to Ken, lol.

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  4. Suzanne, The heart wants what it wants. And when it doesn’t get it, it breaks. Temporarily. Until it finds another great deal that it wants.

    My husband likes to tell me that just because it’s a good deal doesn’t mean I need it. “There’s always going to be a good deal somewhere,” he’s said to me more than once. David doesn’t understand, and that’s why I missed out on that Mackenzie-Child’s Courtly Owl cookie jar for that really great price that I didn’t get. I’m trying to be mature about the whole thing, but I really NEEDED that cookie jar at that great price and now they’re sold out and I’m full of regret! 😦

    I’m glad Ken’s taking you to get your painting. Now you can breathe easy and enjoy! 🙂 Mona

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  5. You know, even after all this time of reading your blog, I’d forgotten until just now that, as a kid, I liked impressionistic paintings, and there was one of a street in Paris that I adored. I was reading this (memory is a funny thing, isn’t it?) and the image of the painting just popped in my head. I was like “Oh yeah…”. You know the one: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boulevard_des_Capucines_(Monet)#/media/File:Claude_Monet,_1873-74,_Boulevard_des_Capucines,_oil_on_canvas,_80.3_x_60.3_cm,_Nelson-Atkins_Museum_of_Art,_Kansas_City.jpg

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  6. Yay for getting the painting and for Ken being awesome!!!!! If I could, I would have paintings of owls all over my house! Also super excited for your announcement on the 16th. Any writer that gets to work with you is so incredibly lucky! xoxoxo

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  8. Along with all your other incredible skills, why not learn to paint melty-drip-dry Paris paintings yourself? Or ask an Midjourney to paint you an entire museum worth…

    Playing in “Canva” which has a “text to image” AI app.

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  10. I’ve been to Paris. It’s where I met Milan Kundera’s wife. I hope someday you get to go too so you can see how well those Impressionistic paintings capture what a weird, wonderful city it is: drippy up close but amazing once you step back. Or if you’re a tourist. Pictures of Paris are also perfect for a reading nook. I just read two articles: one was about a French author and it emphasized the literary culture of Paris. The other was about the decision to cover up the historic book stands for the Olympics which is causing so much outrage there will probably be more riots.
    Anyway I’m glad Ken is being so nice. If nothing else you can say “We’ll always have paintings.”

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  17. My wife and I have a painting in our bedroom of a Paris boulevard in October that we bought from a street vendor along the Seine on vacation 12 years ago. It’s not the kind of art we usually keep, but there’s something undeniably romantic about it!

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