We’re back and I’m glad. To an overgrown garden, just-blooming rhododendrons, bleeding hearts and ferns along the grass out front, and jet lag to beat the band, of course. I seem to get four or five caffeine-fueled waking hours with some clarity of mind before the spaced-out sense of not really being here yet in my body returns and I feel like I have to lie down. It’s hard to motivate to pack up three bins of stuff to take to Rerun tomorrow to see if they will take them on consignment. Actually, it’s hard to motivate to do much of anything at all re: moving. I just want all that to be done and over with already. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate books? I did manage to vacuum up all the catnip strewn about the basement thanks to a little plastic bag chewing action on the part of one or possibly both cats on Monday before we got home. Must have been fun. The bag had only a small amount of herb in one corner and was nearly full when we left April 16th.
It’s gray and chilly, which is a bit of a shock after the glorious sun and spring warm we had nearly every day we were in Italy. I have to remember I don’t live in a place that is warm much of the time. Very tall trees and flowers nearly year round. But warmth? shorts? sleeveless tops? Forget about those. I’m trying to motivate to boil up a batch of borlotti beans to use in the wonderfully tasty Pasta e Fagioli recipe we found in booklet in our apartment in Venice. Today’s the day the mailman brings all the mail that’s been on hold since we left so I suppose I ought to hang around, too, for that. I have this idea that I have the pep to walk to New Seasons or the pet store on Alberta or even the co-op. Driving a car anywhere remains a high risk activity. It’s time to boil those borlotti beans.
When I couldn’t sleep at fours, just as the birds started their morning routine, I reminded myself I don’t have to get much done these next few days, even weeks. Rather, to be moderate and grateful for even the tiniest of accomplishments instead of my usual all-or-nothing maniacal thinking. So already this morning, I’ve had to remind myself of just that and to forgive myself for not being peppier, more energetic, able to crank all day and write a bestselling book in twenty-four hours, that sort of thing. Super girl, I ain’t, especially with a nine-hour time change difference to adjust to…
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
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