The Conflict With Bees, An Old House And An Identity
I was stung on my foot by a bee last Friday. In truth, it was a wasp, which I am emphatically grateful for- not because it caused a reaction so heinous, I’m still recovering/hobbling about- but because, two of the symbols that I choose to cling to this year were stars and honey bees and it would have been supremely disappointing to have to choose another one, with only 3 months remaining in 2022.
It only took 18 months before the enormity of owning an old house hit me full force. Oh my God. There are mice. There are janky radiators. There are thin walls and old cabinets and things are falling apart and where do you begin to fix things when your budget is on a budget? What were we even thinking????? It takes an entire day to spot clean the first floor. Is there an old homeowners checklist somewhere that everyone had access to but me? Where do you even know where to begin?
Starting in September, there will be exactly 6 months remaining before I turn 40. I had hoped it wouldn’t feel like such a milestone, but it does. But not in the way I am dreading it. I’ve lived through enough to know and understand that aging is a gift and that we should take advantage of every opportunity big and small to celebrate our lives with people we love. But I am an achiever, by nature. And there are things that I haven’t “done” that I certainly thought I would have squared away by now. You know, adult things. Like, having a clear career path. Or investments. How to drain the furnace in the creepy basement. That sort of thing.
I don’t feel, “behind”. But there is a certain sense of urgency at this stage of the game. A recognition that a good chunk of my life is now behind me, and that I’m really going to have to make some decisions and changes if I want to be healthy and satisfied with the rest of it.
What were the 40s like for you?
Did you have goals in mind to accomplish, or just let the chips fall as they may?
Did you have a party or mark it in some other way?
I want to know.
And now,
The Things Giving Me Life Right Now
Honestly, it was a rough week laid up on the couch and while I have a bit more mobility today, I’m still not at 100 percent. Sarah Addison Allen’s serendipitous fiction has been life-saving to me. It’s a little whimsy, a little magical realism, a little strong character development, a little necessary for a big escape. I’m thankful for, “Lost Lake” this week.
Ummmmmmm do not even talk to me about what you’re watching unless it’s the British Junior Bake Off, ok? I want to watch ten year olds make too much buttercream with smears of food coloring on their cheeks forever and ever amen.
The end of August means ALL the fresh flowers (sunflowers in particular) get to come inside to store up our senses and memories for the long winter ahead.
The end of August also means the start of my favorite season to both cook and bake in. Our favorite family recipes ( squash ravioli with browned butter and sage sauce, roasted chicken with grapes and olives, kale and chickpea stew with coconut milk) all get to come out and play. I’m on the hunt for the perfect carrot cake recipe- got any?
I’ve found myself at the piano more often than not this week, and it always surprises me how it affects me in all the ways. Singing is a sport, I will go to my death defending. It takes your entire body and breath and focus. Retraining myself has never been easy, but always worth it. I have always said that I need to write words or I’ll explode, I need to cook in the kitchen to create but I need to sing like I need air. Sometimes, I even share it with you here.
I wrote a memoir. It’s been exactly a year now. I had a few bites with some agents and some publishers last fall, and I think, the experience was such a combination of vulnerability hangover and imposter syndrome, I put it on the backburner until I had a clearer head. I have one now. Carry on.
Love to you all, wherever you might find yourself today- and if you must eat your words, make them delicious. Start with these. Seriously.