Home Comforts

Geo And I are nearly recovered from a week-long illness, but we’re still only operating at about 75% of full power. We’re emotionally tender, and that calls for a bit of home comfort. 

Today that looks like knitting and filling the house with home-baked goodness.

I’m casting on a new blanket in a deep, rich brown—Purl SoHo’s Knitting Wool in Peat Bog—while a fresh batch of whole-grain mustard matures on the counter and the dough for butter rolls rises. 

We rarely eat the rolls before they go stale, since they only last a day or two, and I might take half the batch to a friend, or I might divide the dough for fresh cinnamon sugar donut twists. 

Merry & Bright

Holiday Happenings: The Tree

We listened to corny music and assembled the Christmas Tree. Georgia did all the placement of the ornaments, and I think it’s just gorgeous.

Good food, good company, good times.

Next up: a movie, more good food, storytelling, and general goofiness.

It begins

I've been in the new place for about a week now, and I set the white bookcases up behind the sofa, wanting to brighten the space. I had aligned them against the wall in a straight line (as one does), and it was decidedly blah. The light seemed to all get sucked into the corner under the stairs and just kind of die. I was too tired to solution the problem, and simply went to bed, thinking that maybe the whole arrangement needed to be shifted and rethought, which would involve moving all the bookcases, a prospect I wasn't in the mood to entertain.

Then this morning I took one of the narrow bookcases and set it at an angle, making a corner. I stepped back into the kitchen to make tea and looked back into the living room, and the effect was just what I was after. The white bookcase picked up the ambient light and reflected it back into the space in a way that is welcoming and lovely. Hurray for small successes in the adventures of moving. 

Of course this means I need a couple more bookcases, because when would it ever not mean that?

Hearth & Home

Think I might have finally found the right bread recipe-baking combination for this place.

Afterglow

 The last presentation is over and we mill out the doors into the twilight. The cement stairs reflect heat up through the soles of our shoes as we descend toward the street. The Uber back to the hotel is silent, our briefcases askew on our laps, conference program sticking out at an edge and I don't care.

Back at the hotel I wave as I get out of the elevator. You nod, a weary lift-and-release as you lean against the glass back of the elevator car, the plants of the lobby visible behind you like supporters on a coat of arms. The doors seem tired as the close you in.

I fumble with the key card three times before I realize I'm putting it into the door backwards, right it and lay the briefcase on the luggage stand, kick my Keds off leaving one, then the other before the door swings home behind me. The cargo pants and socks come off in one motion and the blouse follows, dropped to the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs heading to the bathroom where I start the tap for a hot bath.

I check my phone for the first time since breakfast: well wishes from Back Home friends, a question about a housesitting gig that happens next week, a random text from a forgotten flame; messages from a foreign land in a language I used to know but don't remember. I'm so full of ideas and conversations that words have lost their meaning. The phone battery light glows red and I drop it on the charging stand as I pick up epsom salt and test the water temperature, then climb in, letting the water coax the muscles of my back to uncringe. 

 

Only music makes sense now.

What an excellent day.

Echo Chamber

I'm not a big fan of my current apartment. It's a rambling layout, a dis-integrated use of space, and it seems to make little sense for the functions of living (please don't ask about the kitchen; talking about it makes me cry). 

But a special, unintended feature of this space is the echo in the long hallway that serves as a spine between the living room and the dining room. It makes the perfect sound chamber for singing, which I do often while I wait for the kettle to boil. I like to sing chants and other traditionals, and of course this intersected with SeaShantyJanuary beautifully. 

My downstairs neighbors are probably sick of my version of "My Mother Told Me" each morning, but Little Dog continues to love it. Confession: It's very hard not to stomp my foot for the main percussion and use a tap on the wall for lighter beats. 

They should be grateful that my tambourine is in storage.

Sit With That

The answer to everything is more meditation.

Meditation Zone

You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes every day -- unless you're too busy; 

then you should sit for an hour.

Thinking of turning the second bedroom into a meditation room instead of a library. Not that they are mutually exclusive, of course, but one feeds and energizes the mind, while the other still and holds it in repose.

Editing life continues to be exciting. I have three special series in development as of this week, and five seven new books for the spotlight series I'm taking on. I've caught my breath with the classwork, I think; I'm about one full rotation behind in response papers to The Republic, but small steps matter. I should be on track to finish it by the end of the term.

Writing workshop is amazing, and my next installment is due in three weeks. Wow. I'm so glad I have this in my world again. 

The Universe loves me and wants me to be happy.

Coming Up for Air

This morning I'm grateful for the friend in my life who listens to me each morning. We talk about how to remain and continue to be truth-seeking spiritual beings while in this human existence. He has been self-employed most of his life, and in the past several days, he has been a rock for me as I navigate honoring the responsibilities of my craft while remaining true to my time and the other parts of my world which require their own nurturing and care. It's true what they say about writing: you can't edit your own work. When he and I were first discussing this, he asked why not, bringing the simple truth into the light for examination. I'd never put it into words before, and I was grateful for the opportunity to understand this core piece more thoroughly: Because in the same way that you can't know what the back of your hair looks like or what color your eyes are until someone tells you,  you can't edit your own work. Instantly this made sense to him, but -- more importantly -- it helped me know the concept, not just repeat the axiom. 

I'm almost done digging out. The tsunami which threatened to drown me has receded to high- wader stage. Academically as well as editing work, I'm making my way through.

The next two weeks is a whirlwind of medical and legal appointments, culminating in court next Friday. Everything is moving forward by baby steps, and that's some good news, friends.

I went on an electronics fast starting Thursday afternoon. I only meant to go for 24 hours, but it's been brilliant, and I have no idea when I'll go back. I visited a friend in person, socially distanced in her front yard among the flowers. I felt like a person.

I'm reading a book for class that's so good I'm taking a gajillion notes, and it's slowing me down for now, but man it's worth it. Becoming Dad, by Pitts. Also, I'm supposed to be reading Book 3 of The Republic. Yep, might get to that sometime this week.

I finished one Knitting project (a lace scarf for a friend) and began another ( a blanket for Vivian). The roof leaks in three places and I called the management company, who sent someone today to look at it. 

Home sweet home

I'm wrecked with the biggest push of the move today. Frankly, I'm glad I had already scheduled some blackout time from work, and had a lot of physical activity; RBG has sent me into active mourning.

Frak. I'm so tired. I ache everywhere.

The final drive from NC to VA (about 3 hours) was lovely this morning. It's officially heading towards autumn. I listened to Lenny Kravitz and Eastmountainsouth as I drove. Little Dog spent far more time in his crate than he thought was warranted, as friends and I picked through the storage unit and hauled a bedframe, desk, several tables and a few chairs in, piled unceremoniously in the living room. They all scattered once the heavy lifting was done, and I finally got the bedframe together -- this is not a one person job, and I couldn't find my toolbox, and and and. Somehow I have no pillows, sheets, or comforter. Whatever.

Last week was a crush of work items and meetings. It seems the universe decided to give me all that I asked for, in abundance. The editing position just expanded dramatically and I've been made editor of a new series in Philosophy. It has no name yet, and won't run its first article for a couple months as we firm up the details. The SOPHIA group is taking on a lot of new chapter development initiatives, and I'm the office in charge of nurturing it. Very cool, and very exciting. The Honesty Book looks like it will become a curated series that will see the light of day initially as a special series at Civil American (think Scientific American for Philosophy). Writing workshop went very very well this week -- there was a prompt that was just fun to write. There might be a year-long podcast to go with it. And of course there are still classes. In theory, I'm reading a book tomorrow and writing a paper on it on Monday.

The biggest news, though, is that I got to see Vivian, in person, at the therapist's office. I think there was some really good communication, and we had a lot of fun at the sand table -- she kept burying a jewel and making me uncover it. We meet again on Saturday in the park, weather permitting. I hadn't seen her in person since March.

I haven't begun to unpack boxes or arrange anything; my clothes are still in the footlocker; empty hangers are in the closet and I don't have a clue what it is I've missed out on in the rest of the world today. Which is fine.

I'm too tired to sleep, so I'm knitting a bit, working on a scarf for the wife of a friend. Everything aches (did I already say that?)

All is well, or as well as it can be just now.

It may now be autumn

Picked up the key today.

Welcome home.

Gifts of the Universe

Look what someone left on the side of the road.

I stopped, put on my hazard lights and loaded it up.

Wonder Woman has a plane and a lasso; I have a Jeep and some rope.

Holiday retrospective

Reading the book from John Kern. Again.

French Toast with Hearts

Ponies

Gingerbread family, all ready for decorating

We made noodles

Working together

We made noodles, again. We couldn't decide between regular spaghetti or basic macaroni, so we made both. It was as fun as it always is, and the bonus is that it is really quick and yummy too. Tonight, Harvey whipped up a super-savory beef stroganoff to top the noodles, and it was just right.

Making the spaghetti

Spaghetti rosettes

Macaroni      

Cutting the macaroni

  

The Final Product

Adopt an olive tree

It's that time of year again when I sign up for the produce for the year. This year I'm adding in an olive oil subscription, adopting an olive tree from a grove on the the Carolina Villani Estate:

The Carolina Villani Estate is situated in San Paolo Civitate, by the area called Alto Tavoliere in the northern region of Puglia. The hilly location 182 meters above sea level combined with the mild climate makes this area ideal for olive growing. In particular, it’s known for producing Peranzana olives.

Frankly, I can't wait to receive our first shipment, and it couldn't be timed better. Wednesday night we poured the last of our three liter tin into the glass bottle of olive oil we keep next to the stove, and I told Harvey it was time to up our game when it comes to the olive oil, given that we now have such great bread and vegetables to go with it, and he agreed.

Today we are going on a date to Oliveto here in town, and I'm totally looking forward to it. But that certificate of adoption is getting framed and hung in the kitchen for certain.

Now if I could just find a source for durum wheat, I'd be golden.

It begins

The mill came today. I'm completely excited about this.

Trim a tree night

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Warm and happy thoughts from our house to yours.

The Intentional Promotion of the Things We Value

Minimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it. It requires a conscious decision because it is a countercultural lifestyle that stands against the culture of overconsumption that surrounds us.

The world we live in is not friendly to the pursuit of minimalism. Its tendencies and relentless advertising campaigns call us to acquire more, better, faster, and newer. The journey of finding simplicity requires consistent inspiration.

For that reason, I hope you will make an effort this weekend to find a quiet moment with a cup of coffee or tea and enjoy some of these hand-picked articles to encourage more simplicity in your life.

The White Envelope by Nancy W. Gavin. This inspirational story needs to be read and shared a million times.

7 Simple Strategies to Avoid Overspending this Holiday Season | Forbes. Americans spend 9X the amount of money retail shopping during the Christmas season than any other season of the year.

My Year of No Spending is Over—Here’s How I Got Through It | The Guardian by Michelle McGagh. A new way of living - wealthier and wiser.

Minimalism, Marriage, and Parenting | YouTube (42:57) by Mina Irfan.

http://www.becomingminimalist.com/inspiring-simplicity-1216-2/

Thanksgiving Break

Trimming the crust

Filling the pies

Making a fire

At home workout, because the gym was closed.

Playtime

Playtime

The Bird (note the pie)

Dinner

The face of defeat

At the Co-op

Library Day

The explosion of personal effects happened over the course of two days.

Making plans, writing letters, and being art

Making poundcake

Family Movie: A Bug's Life

(Do not tell anyone that I was barefoot in the kitchen) making frosting.

Morning After: French Toast

Planning with the first seed catalog of the year

French Toast

In the village

Measuring her dress-in-progress (beginning of skein 3)