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| Flying by |
Home, sweet turn-around. We've just got back from Portland, Oregon. It was the last leg of a four month journey and the Big Event, the birth of Baby Chance, Supermoon Boy. Now we're back in Nevada. It's home but feels more like a traffic circle. Nevertheless, we have long-time friends here, our "stuff" is here, the Bird Park is here. Things are where and the way they are supposed to be. Maggie, aka the 7 o'clock magpie, showed up for peanuts the first morning we were back and, at the moment, sparrows fill the bushes and trees and several are enjoying a raucous dust bath party on the ground.
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| Squirrel underpants |
And then there's my office. In case you've ever wondered where the center of the Universe is, cluttered though it be, it's my office. And, for the moment, I am there ... here. But not for long. We are leaving again at the beginning of October and won't be back until mid-January. Of course I'll still be here, the Language Barrier that is. It's home everywhere. And home is where the heart is..... which is family.
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| Cousins Thea, Leo and Frank |
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| Baby Chance and Dad |
Our ultimate destination is Thailand for three months. I guess it's fair to say we're in a rut. We were also there last year for three months. Yes. There is a whole big world out there, and time is running out, but we really like Thailand. But before Thailand, we're going to New York with Lee's mom for a brief visit and after that we'll all go to LA for a few days. Then she returns home and we return to Thailand. At this point, we're there more than anywhere else.
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| My pot |
Life is strange. I never thought I'd be traveling like this. Several years ago, starting over and dirt poor, I bought a small copper-bottomed sauce pan at a secondhand store. I was delighted. It was a good omen. Revere Ware. My mother always said it was the best. I was still with my then-husband but, in fact, was more like a single mom raising three kids. A lot of meals came out of that pot, all though their childhood. And, being the absent-minded type, I burned a lot of food in it. However, I pride myself on always restoring it to some semblance of it's original secondhand glory. Now, 30 years later, a little worn though it be, all things being equal, it's still got a ways to go. I cooked my oatmeal in it this morning.
5 comments:
I already feel like you splitting your time between Florida and Oregon makes you an expatriate while we here in the "Contiguous Forty-six," from Idaho to shining Alabama deal with tornados and Nascar (anything that goes round and round, I guess) and such. But, I see the attraction.
My mother always bought "the good stuff," whatever that was. I remember those copper-bottom pots and pans
It's effected me too. I don't feel like I "live" anywhere anymore. Nothing is mine. Nothing has any personal history. Wherever I go, I'm a stranger, a ghost. It's not bad, freeing actually, but very odd.
As if once you are able to eliminate the imaginary and extraneous, this is what's left. It seems freeing, but a little sad to me.
Yes. And it does, at times, feel a bit sad or nostalgic but that doesn't last long. Traveling, like we are at the moment, really emphasizes the temporary nature of all things and, after a lifetime of fussing over "stuff", that's actually a relief. I do feel like a ghost sometimes. A less dramatic word is observer but, you know me, I go for the draaaama. OTOH, I don't feel like a vampire, which is a good thing. :-)
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