The Changes of Fall

Well, it's been a while since I've had time to write, but I've got a good excuse, I promise! A and I have spent the last month and a half traveling and hosting family at our house. Such fun!!!

I've decided to make some changes to gear up for fall, though this is still an experimental blog for me so far. Haven't quite decided where my focus should be (hmm, this phrase could apply to many areas of my life, at the moment). I'm ready for something new, something more, but what?

As a side note, someone very close to me is in much the same position - ready for a change, but not sure where to start. I'm thinking of her today as I try to muddle through my own work/life.

That's all for now!

Red, White, and Blue Rooms

For your morning pleasure, via Apartment Therapy: Red, White, and Blue Rooms. Happy 4th! Obviously, the reds are my favorite, but I enjoy a good strong blue every once in a while. The fifth image, red with dark picture frames, a palm, and multiple colorful pillows, suits me best. It feels very English and would be a warm, cozy room for winter, with a roaring fire. Mmmm! I can't believe I'm dreaming of cold, but with temperatures at a steamy 100 degrees here, chill and sweaters sounds quite appealing. A red room to curl up in sounds even better.

Thoughts of Santorini

One perfect week, outside of time, we experienced Santorini. It was early spring, before the tourists were even beginning to trickle in, so everything was fresh and sunny and new and the people were rested and friendly. We spent six nights in the coziest, most pristine cave house owned by Mr. Triantaphyllos and his family. He has worked very hard with his own two hands to restore and convert his family's ancestral homes, and the week we were there, he kindly converted our stand-up hose-style shower into a proper shower while we were out. Just when we had gotten used to roughing it, too!

Each morning I would creep out into the front room, fling open the shutters, and admire the view of the caldera from our own private patio. Just as the local cats began sniffing for attention, I snuck across the little town square to the only bakery, owned by a Greek man and his mama. After a day or two, I got the drill down, murmuring "Kalimera" as I walked in the door, and pointing and asking politely for "ena" or "dyo" of each pastry.

We wandered across the empty flatlands, passing little white traditional houses and fields of wild daisies. We hiked along the narrow, rocky cliffs, happily accompanied by the resident "tourist dogs" who would run hell-for-leather down the nearly vertical cliffs chasing after a bird or rabbit, only to zoom back up to our side minutes later, barely winded. We meandered down to the red and black volcanic beaches, which were utterly deserted, much to our delight. We dipped our toes in the water and watched for sea creatures and generally did nothing at all.

It was a beautiful week.

Today, on this hot June afternoon, I am dreaming again of Santorini as I enjoy a frappe, the national drink of Greece, on my back patio. I hope you can experience the island for yourself some day.

Greek Frappe
2 tsp. instant coffee
2 tsp. sugar
crushed ice
cold water

Combine all ingredients in a martini shaker. Shake vigorously, then pour into a tall, cold glass with a straw. Enjoy!

Cleaning House

I can have one, right?

Finally, for the first time in six years, for the first time since we moved into this house, I have time to sort out the pieces. Finally relinquishing those last high school notebooks. Finally hanging pictures on the wall. Finally supergluing the shards from the potted plant that one of the night school students knocked off my desk, taped back together, and replaced without a word.

I have so much time on my hands. So why is it still so hard?

I thought I'd had enough time this year to process all the events of the past decade. Evidently not. Instead of glibly chucking items into my hatchback, eagerly handing them off to a very good cause, I am still wallowing on the concrete floor of my garage, surrounded by inconsequential objects that I just.   can.   not.    let.    go.

I know that in the nature vs. nurture schema, I got a double dose. My family have been "savers" for generations. I, like them, seem to possess that same mental quirk that allows me to imbue this bad photo from 1995 or that little fish paperweight with metaphysical significance. I regularly attempt to shake this tendency from my life, decluttering and organizing and minimizing. For the most part, I have been successful, and (I say objectively, without gloating) my home is now more orderly than those of most people I know. But the packrat urge keeps clinging onto my sleeve like a whiny child begging for attention, which is why I currently have oh, fifty candleholders sitting on my garage floor in confusion.

I've read the books and articles. I've watched "How Clean Is Your House"and "Hoarders" to freak myself out and spur myself on to ever-higher levels of decluttering. I guess they are my grown-up version of the Boogeyman, useful for prodding me out of my inertia and back to the process of letting go. I know how to visualize a clean room, and better still, how to visualize all the happy events that will be possible once I finish getting rid of XYZ. Flylady has been an immense support in teaching me how to clean and declutter, with a positive attitude to boot! But sometimes, this is simply not enough.

I suppose, in a sense, I'm like the dieter who has only ten more pounds to lose. I've done the initial steps, the hardest work, shed the majority of the pounds, and tried to thoughtfully consider any new items I bring into my house. But, oh! Those last ten pounds! The voices creep into my head, saying, "You've done so well. You've been so disciplined. Surely you can have just this one?"

And so I persevere. Surely, I do not need fifty candleholders. Surely, I can give at least half to that good cause. Besides, I still have a couple of hundred left over from my wedding, in case I need to pull out more, right?

June: The Month of the Lily

I am inordinately fond of these,
though I can claim no credit!

Thanks to my sweet parents, my backyard is full of fiery-orange lilies this year. I get to watch each flower open its eyes and unfurl its petals at dawn, then slowly fold up to sleep in the evening light. Simple pleasures.