Arles, Charles?

This would of course be Vincent van Gogh's answer to his brother's query about where he thought he might go for a sunnier clime to sooth his darkened spirits (providing van Gogh's brother been named Chuck instead Ted). The total conversation, one might surmise, went something like this:

"Vincent--any thoughts on someplace you might go that's a bit warmer than here?"
"What do you think about Arles, Charles?"

I, too, have moved to a sunnier place to paint: Leesburg, Virginia. I hasten to say the move is a temporary one and done more for the purposes of soothing a sick parent's brow, but I have dismantled my father's kitchen, created a studio of sorts where the breakfast table used to be and have begun painting Jim Cramer. I'd offer a photo, but I'm still a bit handicapped electronically.

There are several positives to be gleaned from this:

1. Leesburg, while not the south of France, is, nonetheless, significantly warmer than New York. You need only walk around in a fleece vest; maybe a long-sleeved shirt (note--disregard recent warm spate in the New York area while reflecting on this).
2. The space where the breakfast table used to be is really quite small. Should I ever end up in prison, I am pleased to realize that I will still be able to generate my trademark products.
3. One of my daughters goes to college in the area, so I can see more of her than I might otherwise.

All this said, there are some odd parts too. For one, the local Giant supermarket has an aisle labeled "Hispanic Foods." This I thought was strange. Good, but strange. Before you know it, everyone in Leesburg will be eating tacos and refrying their beans.

My father, by the way, is riding the crest of the Hispanic-Food-Comes- to-Northwestern-Virgina wave. I opened his cupboard the other day and found tobasco sauce with chipotle. Tastes pretty good.

Me? I await Gaugin.