Car hasn't been set on fire yet . . .

Last night, the husband and I took Roger into our big town to see a New Orleans gospel singer perform.

When I called up Roger in the morning to make sure he was still going with us, he asked if I was worried about our car getting set on fire. I replied, "Why, are they now burning cars in ________?" And he said that they hadn't started yet and asked how we would get home if it was set on fire . . .I said we'd hire a taxi.

It's really uncomprehensible to me that there could be rioters in our little town.

In not so far away Toulouse, the rioters commandered a bus, told the people to get off, and then set it on fire.

I have this AWFUL habit of creating paintings that fortell the future. I'm not kidding. All my paintings of my two sheep Blanche and Olympia had them standing side by side. Then, I painted one where the two of them were separated, with a strange tree in between them. Within a week, Olympia was dead.

This January, I made a small painting of our house, looking quaint and idyllic, the sheep standing in the foreground, snails crossing the yard, with bomb blasts going off in the hills behind the house. I wanted to point out that no matter how cozy you make yourself, evil is always lurking in the background.

Just before the rioting started, I began painting a larger version of the painting . . .and was shocked to realize that what I had painted in January, our little heaven coming under assault, was the unbelievable scenario that was happening now.

Life is stranger than fiction . . .