Monday

The things we learn about ourselves when we move! The things we find buried in our souls or buried in stacks of papers! 

I found this in my move-out: it was painted by my father's friend, in the year I moved away from Warsaw to New York, to work as an au pair and to finish college. 1972, so I was 19. I dont know what to do with it! There is no way I want to hang a painting of myself anywhere within eyesight. Yet, tossing it seems so wrong. It stays in the last banker's box in the hallway, there with about a half dozen items like this one. Things that have no obvious home. I showed it to the kids later in the day and had them guess who it was. It took them a while to suggest that it might be me!

Once again I wake up too early. I'm still buzzing. The apartment may be settled, but my head isn't yet. I heard the other day on NPR that the verb "to ruminate" isn't really a word, but we use it because, well, it's so useful! To think deeply about something. I woke up feeling deeply about my move, the uncertainty going forward. (Will I stay here beyond the year's lease? Will I move again? Where to and why?) And so I did what I usually do when I "think with deep concern." I wrote down my thoughts and sent them to the person who could, if he wanted to, offer some insights on the matter.

And then I got up and tested the new shower and it was so grand! (Water pressure at the farmhouse is very poor upstairs and, too, dont even get me started on the mineral levels in the water. Think: calcium encrusted everything, only I don't know if it's even just calcium. We should retest the well water ever couple of years. We did it only once in the 14 years I lived there.) Next, a breakfast, not outside. Ed and I speculated if perhaps eating breakfast together would be easier going forward than eating dinners together, given the animals and the distance. But not today. He has his machining project and, too, the house cleaning to do, so that the farmhouse leans toward a man cave. Or something. 

My own breakfast at the Edge is more challenging to photograph. You're not lulled (and neither am I) by a morning walk to the barn. Outside, I hear the distant noise of traffic. I can see myself sitting on the porch alone to read on a warm spring day, but I cant see myself taking breakfast out there regularly. What for? The view is meh, the sounds are uninteresting. I'm trying out the island. As you can see, it's huge, and it needs flowers!

(with a view toward my marching band, all lined up neatly!)

And speaking of found objects, does anyone remember the key chane with a piece of woven fabric I got at the Venetian weavers' workshop? I bought it because it was the cheapest item there and then I put it aside. I found a use for it! House keys.

 

 

Then I work on technology. There is always something, isn't it? My phone was losing its charge faster than a wild turkey on the run, so I finally decided to replace it. Doing data transfers, etc etc took up the better part of the morning. As did canceling cable service. I knew I would lead a more interesting life going forward!

Next, I scrubbed the fabric on the chair in the bedroom, and thought about groceries. Ed will do his own delivery of course. I am still thinking: should I shop? Should I test delivery here? Door delivery at the farmhouse was easy -- you got your bags at the door. In the apartment, you get your bags at the door as well. The building front door, which for me is a hefty walk away from my unit. I see some people have little wagons for grocery movement whether from car to unit or door to unit. I am not spending money on a little cart! So I ruminate. 

 

And in the afternoon, I pick up the kids. One, then the other.

 

 

 

And then home. My beautiful home. (Today I asked the management if I was actually the first inhabitant of the unit, given that the whole complex is just two years old. They said no. I was shocked. It is absolutely spotless! I want the name of their cleaning service for when I am old and incapacitated!)

The kids are in good spirits. We are establishing old routines within a new setting. They have gone from suspicious, to skeptical, to enthusiastic about my new place. Eventually they will land on "indifferent." 

(Sparrow has been charmingly curious about everything in the new space. He opened every door, every cabinet, every drawer  to see how I had organized things.)

Toward evening I take them home and then drive down to the grocery store. I need something for dinner that is other than a salad and cheese and crackers! 

I pull in late.  

(drama in the skies, as seen from my windows...)

 

I knew I would miss the farmhouse endings to a day and I do. But, on the upside, I do not mind the serenity here. The "everything is in its place" feeling. The gentle jazz as I fix my supper of... well, salad and cheese once again! With hummus thrown in for good measure. And a non-alcoholic beer. And another. Hey, it's a large salad!  

with lots of love...