I think he's from Venezuela, but to me he will always be Sergio from Paris.

My husband was back and forth to Paris quite a bit this last year or so. It's a long story, but one that included shepherding a dear friend through some life and business changes. "Sergio" lived in the office near the Arc de Triomphe, and kept Pat company on long days navigating the very scenic route of the way the French DO things. When I visited, I would always say "Bonjour Sergio," and curtsy. He is a large and serious presence.

On Friday, unexpectedly, Sergio arrived in a massive, and deadly-heavy plywood crate.

It looked like the cute beagle at Immigration had done his job sniffing for illicit cargo...

I unwrapped him slowly, he looked so angry. I'm sure it was a long and lonely journey. His shadow self looked even more pissed.

Sculpture Savasana pose.

We put him in the front hall at first. But we worried people might freak out when we closed the door and they were face to face with... him. It is still New York City after all.

So, this morning, we gave him his own corner. You don't see him until you round the nook outside the kitchen. And he's got company in "sad clown." I think they balance each other out.

It is a lovely and very generous gift. Sergio now presides over the dining room table. We will never be lonely, and will always raise a toast to our beautiful French friends.

Sante.