Notes on the end of
Christmas vacation and the return to reality.
I have reluctantly gotten back into the swing of
things. I should, I tell myself. After all, it is the end of January and
vacation ended two weeks ago. I like
blogging, it’s not that. I was just
hoping to have some mind blowing revelation to share; I don’t. Coming back to Southern France was hard; it
is every year. I’m generally grouchy for
the first week or two. I need to time
adjust: our rhythm, the weather, the house.
In the kitchen, I’m always bumping into Christophe; by American
standards, our kitchen is small. I quickly
adjusted to the large kitchens of my family and friends. Now, at home, I cannot warm up soup without getting
bumped and jostled and finding myself in some kind of tangle. The house needs time to warm up too. Taking the chill out of the three feet thick
stone walls doesn’t happen overnight. Starting
the wood heater; bringing in wood; hanging up the laundry – the daily chores of
life have returned with no promise of a candy cane or twinkling lights
afterwards. I’d love to be distracted by
winter sports, but alas, there is none here; there’s not enough snow and way too
much wind. So, I’m focusing on spring –
and maybe keeping the house clean. I don’t
make New Year’s resolutions, but I’m still try to better myself and my life by
doing what some people manage to do all the time. That said, I’ve got laundry to be folded, a
sink full of dishes waiting for my attention, a two week old copy of The New York Times I still haven’t
finished (but I won’t recycle it until I do), and presents that I have not found
space to organize yet. Yep, I’m off to a
great start.
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