and it’s odd that I almost feel guilty about it. I haven’t set up my wireless router here in the house, so if I want to use the internet, it has to be on my husband’s computer in the upstairs den, and getting there in the middle of the day, or really any time of day is just too much work, when I have about a hundred and eight million things to do. Like, change the locks, have the alarm installed and turned on, which alone has been a four-part process, beat back the overgrown greenery along the perimeter of the back veranda, which is something a landscaper/gardener should be doing, but just try to get one to call me back, I dare you. Then there was the car inspection. And the floor contractors, one for staining the floor with a nice oil-based walnut color, instead of the water-based yellowish oak color, and one for installing a hardwood floor on the upstairs halls. Right now the floors upstairs are wall-to-wall carpet, covering plywood. The carpet is nice and plushy, but it will be destroyed by my kids, and probably by me in about two weeks. What else, let’s see, hmmm…oh, yes, there was the leaky pipe under the kitchen sink, and the complete lack of garbage cans, which sadly, could not be remedied by a trip to Target, because Target did not have any street-side garbage cans with lids. Can you imagine? OK, let’s see, what else? OK, there’s the front gate, which opens via sensor, which is really annoying, or via remote, of which there is only one. So, there was the task of obtaining another, which is in process. And my myriad prescriptions, once carefully tended to by CVS, now, transitioning into the hands of the local Rexall. Did I mention unpacking? There is still a room full of boxes – Adam’s room, and although I unpacked Brian’s boxes, his closet has no shelves, which means that I now have another home-improvement project: figuring out a closet system for him, as well as for Adam because when I get around to unpacking him, he won’t have a closet with shelves either. Wow, this is boring. Sorry. This is why I haven’t bothered to blog. My days are as boring as this blog, and yet, they are strangely engaging to me.
Typical day: wake up at 5:30 a.m. to the sunlight streaming in, let Lewis out the front door, notice the day’s share of wildlife, which today was a rather large turtle that had made its way out of the pond and onto the front lawn – it was as big as my foot, and underneath its shell, it was red, yellow and green. Wish I had had a camera ready. After I know that Lewis is busy, I go back upstairs, bathe, put on yoga clothes, grab a Diet Snapple and head into the car. An hour and five minutes later, I am at Shala X, where Mark has convinced me to stop rolling my pants up to bind in Supta Kurmasana. Whatever. It’s not really newsworthy. Dropbacks are getting interesting because I am finally getting at least some sense of what I am supposed to be doing. And let me tell you, I have a loooong way to go before I can synchronize my breath and open my hip flexors enough to stand up from a backbend. But we shall see. I’m no longer the last one out of the shala, since I have to get there by eight in order to avoid city-bound traffic. The train was a nice idea, but it doesn’t work that well for me right now, what with so many errands to run on the way to and from the shala. For example, the past two days, I have stopped at Home Depot, and that is in lower Westchester, and so it wouldn’t be on the way if I had left the car at the train station up north.
Boring, objectively. Yet, not to me.
So, typical day continues with me stopping for some errands on the way home from yoga. The past few days the obsession has been potted flowers. Lots of annuals to fill up the pots the previous owner left. Impatiens, daffodils, aster, those are my favorites. A few marigolds and zinnias as well. I went through about eight bags of potting soil if that is any indication of how much I’ve done in two days. It looks very nice now. The next task is to spread some wildflower seeds around some shady trees. Maybe I’ll see some shoots before the end of the summer, and maybe some may even bloom. If not, that’s okay too.
Usually by the time I am done with all of that, I’ve forgotten to eat anything since, I don’t know, since ever. So, I’ll scarf down a sandwich, which if I had time, I could really enjoy: avocado, swiss cheese, sprouts, fresh beefsteak tomatoes, on multigrain bread. The produce here is outrageous. When I remember to eat, it’s all about the fruits and veggies. Which brings me to my next task – finding something for my husband to eat. Since he is not a big fan of the nearly vegetarian diet that I have been following (I say nearly because I will, on occasion, chew on a rib bone or take a scrap of chicken skin; I know, very healthy). I’ve had to cook him dinner because if I don’t, he will be very cranky, and he is already very cranky from having to commute 70 minutes each way every day.
I’ve also had to find time to put together packages for my kids, write them letters, put up a clothesline in my laundry room, take out all of the backyard furniture nearly single-handedly, attempt to water the extremely parched lawn.
My eyes are closing. Getting up early means being tired early, something I have never had to contend with until now. When I turn out all the lights at night, it is actually DARK here. No streetlights, no neighbors’ lights: nothing. Me likey. I’ve taken to this country life like a fish takes to water. Except for all the errands and stuff that I’ve had to do, which I am sure will dissipate over time. I just really want the house to be ready for the kids when they come home.
So, yeah, I haven’t been inside much at all, and when I am, I’m running around putting things away, or putting things together, or meeting with some service provider. I have not turned on the television since at least a week ago. I am trying to force myself to peruse the paper a little bit each day. But it’s a struggle. If I have free time, I want to bike around the country roads and see the huge horse farms and the estates in the “Back Country”, as the Greenwich locals call it. We’re not in Greenwich, but we’re less than five miles from the border, which is kind of neat.
I’ll try to be more interesting another time. Right now, I’m just living the bumpkin life and trying to keep up with all this householder stuff.
And because you’ve bothered to read any of this, I shall reward you with the following photos of Brian, who is proving to be very much the Renaissance Boy:
Brian entertaining the crowd with his renditions of Tequila and We Will Rock You.
Brian (on the far left), rehearsing for the camp’s production of High School Musical.
What can I say, I am a proud mum.