Non-philosophical musings

Despite being married to a philosopher, I rarely quote philosophers. But today I will because I think Jean-Paul Sartre's translated quote "Hell is other people" is missing the mark. I would have to say that hell is other people's stuff.

In 2007/08, Mark was a visiting professor at UNC-Chapel Hill. We found a furnished house to rent in a family/dog-friendly neighborhood. Yes, it was furnished so I did expect furniture and kitchenware. But there was also an abundance of left-behind books, CDs, and outgrown toys. I did have closet space and was able to unpack our things, but was aware that I was living with other people's stuff and that it was stuff they didn't want. When we went back to Athens that summer, I cleaned out our unwanted stuff and donated it.

Forward to this year. Mark is on sabbatical with The Freedom Institute (or something like that) at the University of Arizona. Once again we're renting a furnished house. But this house isn't merely furnished; it's stuffed to overflowing with things. Things like expired medication, five opened containers of Italian bread crumbs, countless opened boxes/packages of pasta and rice, 60+ pairs of shoes; I could go on and on. There isn't a drawer, corner, or closet that isn't packed completely. Where do I put the things we brought for this year? How can I unpack when there is barely room to get my boxes in the house? I also have to remember to keep a path clear so Mark can get through. And, naturally, the garage isn't any better.

So here's what I can say about the house: I like the location. I like the view of the Catalina Mountains from the front room. I like living with my husband and son. And, although I miss Gwen mightily, I'm glad she's not here to be packed into a place that in my mind is user-unfriendly.

Oh, and for my two followers who know me: I had to throw out many, many opened packages of Trader Joe's chocolate because I had no idea how old it was! Tragic!

Goodbye to Athens

A week ago I was tired, overloaded with tasks to accomplish before leaving town and didn't want to see friends. After watching a marathon session of "America's Top Model" on Saturday and a great church service on Sunday, I was ready to rejoin the world.

This week I have had breakfast, lunch, and dinner with wonderful friends and know what I am leaving behind. Friends who have known me since Matthew was a toddler and Gwen was just a little girl, friends who helped in ways they might not even know when Mark had his accident, friends who have made my life so much richer. So tonight I feel the sadness of leaving these friends behind, but I also know that my friends will be here upon my return.

Tomorrow Gwen and I drive to Pennsylvania and on Sunday I will say goodbye. I am grateful to my friends in Athens who have helped nurture and care for Gwen.

The past few days/weeks have been chock full of goodbyes. I said goodbye to Mark and Matthew when they left for Tucson and then again when I left them in Tucson. I said goodbye to my extended family after vacation knowing that I won't see most of them for another year. I am sad to say goodbye to friends who I won't see for the next ten months and am trying to prepare myself for the goodbyes to come when I leave Gwen at college.

But tonight I was reminded that not all goodbyes are sad. After leaving Gwen's dance performance, I headed out to my car and saw a familiar vehicle. Someone drove by in the 1997 Honda Odyssey we sold in June. I easily recognized each dent and scrape and when I drove past it I saw the cracked windshield. That's when I remembered that not all goodbyes are sad.

Kauai Kitchen Kousins

Blue Hawaii

It turns out that often my absence or lack of mothering is a good thing. I have spent almost no time with my children for the past week because they would rather be spending time with their cousins. I can shake off the guilt of the spring/summer and enjoy the beautiful scenery of Hawaii. And on the subject of scenic scenes, I adore watching my children happily hanging out with their cousins. I will be sorry to leave Hanalei, but I think they will be even sorrier. Aloha!