BLUE FISH

I've never wished to change my address, but occasionally I like changing the subject that I paint and less frequently which painting hangs where. Recently, I replaced "pass over" for "blue fish." to the great pleasure of my dinner guests. They liked its new spot also.

I read in last Sunday's Times a drooling story about Maryland Crab. Remembering my degustation of their, better, my delight, I said,

"Today, I will paint a crab."

I had one white canvas smaller than what I would have preferred, but I decided it would do.

Asked by a friend, why I wasn't going to church, I said "gone crabbing."

and headed for the shell fish stand at the café La Mascotte on the rue des Abbesses.

I was examining my prey when the oyster man approached me.

"It's for painting not eating."

That got me off the hook.

I went into the café and chatted with friends.

On my way out, I again studied my models.

The assistant approached me and his boss ran up to my defense.

She just wants to paint them. and smiled.

Only in Paris could one get away with this story.

The shrimp seemed a more tempting subject.

The jumbos were gorgeous and chères.

I selected four and headed home imagining the lay-out for my canvass.

"Do shrimp have a gender?" I thought.

Will I need parental protection?

I stashed the gambas in the freezer and inquired on Google.

Shrimp often have sex changes, I learned, to adjust to the population.

That would work for Montmartre.

I took the gems out and placed them on a very pretty royal blue plate.

Could I eat just one?

No.