Monica:
Michael cracked the whip this morning and I set my nose to the grindstone packing up the kitchen. I hate packing the kitchen—all those dishes and glasses that have to be wrapped in newspaper, all those pots and pans that don't nest into each other just so. The boxes have to be small so they don't get too heavy but then things don't fit easily into them. After wrestling with the kitchen for most of the day, we treated ourselves to what has become a Wednesday ritual: an hour in the hot tub at Sweetwater Spa.
Evelyn:
I have an appreciation for the warm light of sunset on the white picket fence that surrounds the Spring Hill campus. Never mind the shopping carts and flock of smokers, or the cranky leasing landlord who snarls at where we park, or the fact that I sometimes miss "THIS" light because of the office without windows that keeps me disoriented. When I get it just right, I am cradled by the warmth of this little picket fence reflecting the dimming yellow of dusk, and feel remarkable gratitude for the people I work with.
Evelyn:
A mess of keys gathered and awaiting a ride out to Ybor. They feel a bit like the connection made for both a celebration and a brief message of love and appreciation. I am really reveling in, and looking forward to, Tuesday nights. Eating, decompressing, conversating (yep - my word), then dancing away until yawns take over and we pull off the dancing shoes for a long ride home.
Monica:
I've been procrastinating on packing, mainly because I'm avoiding the horrendous task of packing up the kitchen. Instead, I've been "researching" what I want for Christmas (a.k.a., surfing the internet) which is ironic in so many ways. I'm trying to pare down and simplify my life but somehow my desire for simplicity has morphed into an obsession with seeking gadgets I imagine will make my life simpler. The desire quickly turns into suffering, as I become overwhelmed with indecision over which gadget is best and what if I get the wrong one? I watch my monkey mind and throw up my hands. Better take a picture apropos of all the navel-gazing I've been doing today.
Monica:
It feels like winter here with temperatures in the 40's during
the day and I can't get warm enough. There's no escaping the fact of
winter. Fortunately, the shortest day of the year is almost here and I
can look forward to longer days, albeit colder ones. I was thrilled to
discover a patch of blooming orange poppies downtown today—a much-needed
dose of visual sunshine in this muted world of winter.
Evelyn:
I got home late. Justin had his slider phone retrieved from the bucket of rice we threw it in a good 2 months ago. Even grownups accidentally drop their phones in liquid, but I am thinking this just isn't going to work. A good minute in the washing machine? We were hopeful, but it is time for a new phone... Justin did well, caring for his phone for almost 2 years. The price of a teenager.
Evelyn:
Papito and I discovered an industrial area near Lake Dora with a fort built by kids out of junk. My brother-in-law, Michael, would certainly appreciate the creativity with plastic bag flags, and little niches. Reminded me of a pirate ship blown to land from a storm. Of course, we had to take Jag pictures, but this one was really fun - piping jutting out from the pile, like a fish line, bouncing in the wind. (Pito, we need to take a Jag crawl on a Horizontal day so I get better pictures!)
Monica:
Every Sunday at noon, this group of men gathers with
their assortment of flags on the east side of Highway 1 in Caspar. Their
flags cover a broad political spectrum from the black & white
POW/MIA flag to the rainbow LGBT flag. I see their weekly gathering as a
demonstration of unity and peace. We usually pass them on our way back
from Sunday brunch in Little River and we always honk and flash them the
peace sign as we drive past.
Monica:
Another busy day of packing and no time to cook. Thank goodness for take-out pizza.
Evelyn:
Early morning Starbucks run - one of the first ones in what feels like weeks, if not a solid month. Outside two Mastiffs gaze at their owners, who sit under the warm morning sunshine consuming coffee and pastries, waiting for a potential treat. I am in love with the two faces watching me walk through the parking lot. Henry (left) and Sydney (right) are affectionate (and slobbery), but sweeter than the pumpkin bread I had set down so I could take photos.
Evelyn:
We don't have a Christmas tree up. I got rid of the fake one in the process of moving, determined to start some things anew. This year, we head to California and I hesitate to make Christmas visible on this side of the world... yet I enjoy the lights and reflections found on the trees of others... and grateful for the little things that are festive and illuminate the holiday season.
Monica:
After over a month of pleading with Michael to please, let's get
the wood stove going in our house...finally, he started the fire. We
came home to an icebox that couldn't be warmed well enough by our
radiant space heaters. Now it feels cozy and warm and smells of wood
smoke when I walk outside.
Monica:
We were walking around the nature preserve at Wilbur when I
spotted what looked like a hummingbird perched on the window screen of
an empty cabin. As we crept closer, the bird didn't move. I started taking photos as I continued to move
closer and finally the noise of my camera shutter startled the little
bird awake. He turned his head and I'd swear he glared at me for
disturbing his nap. I was surprised he would let me get so close and I
was concerned that maybe he was stuck but when I got within 6 inches of
him, he took off and flew into a tree.
Evelyn:
Spring Hill is a long drive for me, especially with a quickly fading sun at a time of day where just 3 months ago I could easily take an hour walk on the beach before the sun even hinted at retreating. I have discovered new passages to Spring Hill; roads that are less stressful, with fewer signals and more stretches of nature and farm land. At night, however, it is more of a lonely road.
Evelyn:
This is the view out back. What you can't see is the drizzle and chill in the air. Secluded in a space lit by just florescent lights, I forget what time it is... only to find that the weather has drastically changed in just a few long hours.
Monica:
On our way to Wilbur, we hit the Clearlake area just in time for sunset. It's California's largest freshwater lake and quite beautiful, too. Surprisingly, this isn't a high-end resort area in spite of the natural beauty of the area and its proximity to wine country.
Monica:
It happened this morning while I was in the shower. Michael
came in to tell me that he had sad news. "I broke it," he said. I knew
immediately what it was. I sighed. "It's okay, sweetheart. I knew this
day would come sooner or later. Today was the day." And so it goes. My favorite mug
that I've had for 19 years slipped out of Michael's hand as he was
placing it on a shelf and came crashing down onto the counter. The top
smashed into four perfect pieces. I felt no anger or disappointment or
sense of irreparable loss; I have always known that someday I would lose
this simple object that I've loved for years. Everything that comes
into my life will eventually be gone from it, a fact that I have come to
accept without attaching too much grief to it. The flip side of loss is
that it creates a space for something new to enter. And although the
object (or person, or place) may be physically gone, its essence lives
on in my memory of it. I told Michael we will save the mug for a future
building project, as we do with all broken bits of beauty.
Evelyn:
The light changes so quickly in the winter. I took a few moments to get some sunshine (not another "smoke break") and was enthralled with the little berries this tree was flashing. I caught a glimpse of a wren jumping between branches, eying us carefully while stealing a few berries for a late afternoon snack. I couldn't quite catch him, but the berries struck a nice pose.
Evelyn:
A little ripe smile amidst the labor. New space, new temporary desk, and lots of data to compress... my mind wishing for opportunities to stop as I take to "smoke breaks" with a few peers. My apple was about the happiest looking thing in a florescently lit, bare-walled, faculty office... something familiar amidst all the ways this job keeps me challenged.
Monica:
Slowly, things are getting done and checked off the to-do
list. There is so much to do, I get overwhelmed thinking about it. I
have to remind myself to breathe and savor the present moment, whatever
it is. Crawling into bed after a busy day, I remembered I still needed a
photo. I grabbed my camera and peered over Michael's shoulder as he lay
propped on his side, reading his book.
Monica:
This is what our life is like right now and what it's going to look like for the next 3 weeks. Then our life will be compressed down to a couple of suitcases and several miscellaneous bags. It's a wonder that I have done this so many times before and can maintain a certain level of calm in the face of a certain level of uncertainty. I know even this time I will look back on with nostalgia and sigh.
Evelyn:
Took a very gentle, very short, hike in Cassadega today. The park, with the founding father's home, a humble pile of ruins along a path, has a series of historical markers along the way. I love the seedpods I find, sharp and burly, large like ping-pong balls, yet each a frayed disorganized looking mess. I kick them along as we walk, sometimes picking one up to roll in my hand, and feel the texture. I wander in and out of the crevices through my mind, contemplating the ways in which our lives can be prickly and yet smooth like a shadow, a little frayed and yet all in one piece.
Evelyn:
A lot of driving today, and photo-op's along all kinds of country roads. Amidst the drive to Orlando from Clearwater to clients I found a field with cows lit by the sun. They got skittish when I approached, my camera in hand. Instead I got caught up by the dry warm grasses and rusted chain of the farm gate. Interesting the things you appreciate in your home town when it isn't your hometown anymore.
Monica:
Once you decide to leave a place, everything changes. This place called "home" now becomes the place you are leaving behind. It's a little heartbreaking, seeing the world through leaving eyes, saying goodbye to the little things you love: the walk down to the sea that you've made through all seasons, the way the winter light kisses the Farmhouse in the late afternoon, the wild turkeys pecking their way across the lower meadow, the black-eyed susan vine that greets you with her neon flowers when you come home from the grocery store, the caw of ravens in the orchard. You tell yourself that change is inevitable; you must let go of all that you loved here so you can step forward and embrace the unknown beauty that is to come.
Monica:
We've been home for only three days and I've been avoiding the inevitable upheaval that is about to take place in this house. Michael booked the moving truck and we have less than three weeks to sort all of our possessions and either pack them or get rid of them. I made the first move today, going through my papers and shredding a large garbage bag-full. It seems that only a few months ago we were moving in here and were living amidst a chaos of boxes and stacked furniture for nearly a month before my sister arrived to help us sort things out. It's transition time again. Not my favorite, but I know that this too, shall pass. In a few months, the chaos will have subsided and a new adventure will be beginning.
Evelyn:
It's Friday. The light is gone and my belly is full. Monica chatters on the phone while packing as I, camera in hand, wander looking for a photo opportunity between questions and commentary. "Are you taking your picture?" she reprimands... the gentle click of my camera a retort, "Of course!"
Evelyn:
I am discovering all kinds of friendly, small, homegrown places to eat around town. The kinds of places you pass, and never think twice, yet all the locals gather to drink, eat, and be friendly. There is a little Thai place near my once-a-month, two-room Lindy-East Coast & West Coast Swing Dance hall, where the owner roasts her own spices, and everything is fresh, crisp, and tasty. The place is decorated in a contentedly colorful way, and the booths a cozy mix of cheap vinyl and delicate dishes. On the ledges are dozens of Asian dolls, and before I run off to swing, I snap away at the bright dancing ladies.
Monica:
It was fortuitous that we got to drive through northern California at this time of year, when the trees were dressed in their most stunning fall colors. The cherry tree in the driveway is sporting a mop of bright yellow leaves. I had been eyeing it all day, telling myself I needed to capture some photos before the light disappeared. I made it barely in time as the the sun sank below the pine trees that line our driveway.
