The idea of having it all never meant doing it all. Men are parents, too, and actually women will never be equal outside the home until women are equal inside the home.
— Gloria Steinem
Happy Independence Day to the country that is not quite free.
Clearly, I am not one to touch up photos before posting them, much less the subject of the photos themselves — in this case, our still unpacked and scattered new home. But I feel like these photos will be encouraging to me in a year or two, when I look back at them and think, “Wow, what lazy bums we once were.” At least, I hope that’s my reaction.
We couldn’t have done any of this without our totally amazing family, who sacrificed their weekends to come help us move, refinish furniture, clean, and paint many rooms (banishing traces of the ubiquitous yellowy cream!). They are all rockstars, and I want to cry just thinking about all they did for us. Bowing down with gratitude for Mom, Dad, Mike, Windy, Kelsey, Alex, Win, and Tracy! And to the Blue House Boys who helped us move and paint: Phil, Sam, Ethan, and Brooks — you rock. We are the luckiest.
That said, here are some photos of the main floor of our new house — exactly as it looks right now.
There is lots of potential here, and I am currently feeling very overwhelmed by it all. To calm myself, I am internally repeating the truth that it is OK to have mostly empty rooms. It is OK to have mostly empty (scattered) rooms. It is OK…
Our weekend away was a happy, full one. The family women accomplished lots for Kelsey and Alex’s wedding; Pyrrha acted like a normal, stable dog and became fast friends with Dublin; we missed Sam; Dad found a new method of receiving basic channels; we spent most of our free time walking the dogs; I nagged Grace to give me some of her clothes; she said she’d sell me her camera instead. At dinner on Saturday, I announced that I would stay for a month. If only I could.
I don’t particularly enjoy driving and nearly five hours in the car by myself (with a sleeping wolf in the back) was plenty. However, after you pass Lynchburg, the landscape suddenly becomes beautiful. The sky clears. The light is purer, the hills are greener and higher. I feel close to God when I’m driving back home in the mountains. “Virginia is God’s country,” my grandmother, raised on a farm near Amherst, has always said. I wholeheartedly agree.
My hair has reached that long, unmanageable point, but I’m too lazy to make an appointment at the salon. “I think I’m just going to keep it at this length for a while, and then I’ll cut it short,” I told Guion the other night, while I was looking at it in the mirror. “I don’t think that’s how hair works,” he replied.
Jesus, if you are in all thirty-seven churches,
are you not also here with me
making it alone in my back rooms like a flagpole sitter
slipping my peanut shells and prune pits into the Kelvinator?
Are you not here at nightfall
ticking in the box of the electric blanket?
Lamb, lamb, let me give you honey on your grapefruit
and toast for the birds to eat
out of your damaged hands.
From “Living Alone with Jesus,” by Maxine Kumin.
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SIDE NOTE: NEW CITY ARTS FORUM
You know that I care about art. I am lucky to live in a town that also really, really cares about art. Little Charlottesville has more arts organizations than you can count and one of the very best is New City Arts Initiative, headed by Maureen Lovett. Maureen and her team are organizing a wonderful event April 20-22, 2012: New City Arts Forum. This conference pools together artists, presenters, musicians, and even brewers (like my husband) to discuss the big questions: What is good art? Why does art matter? How do artists get money to live? If you’re in town–or even if you’re not!–come check it out.
And happy Friday.
Little Stories 