revised version
That last post… wasn’t what I intended it to be. All I meant to say was that I prefer to let my neighbors do the gardening. Here’s the view from the back (two points if you can spot the cat):
And from the front:
This very impressive garden is what my father calls a “truck garden” -- so profuse the goods have to be trucked out, and the water to nourish it trucked in.
It’s all so lovely, but lately, I’ve been going through a recurrent and very familiar “I can’t live in this country” phase. My work situation is a big disappointment, one I can’t fix til September. The buka’s fine (three teeth and counting) but her food is a lot of work. And she’s older now, and wigglier, and can’t sit still very long -- which means I can’t sit still very long either. But the hardest thing about having a baby, for me anyway, isn’t the food or the constant activity or even the crying or the diapers or the interrupted sleep. It’s always having to be “on,” to be funny and happy, to be at your best, and in the mood.
It can be hard to sustain.
And for all the times I complained about being alone, now I wish I had time alone. The only time I have to “rest” from the baby is, ironically, when I work. Teaching is also performing. It’s such a cliché to say I don’t know who I am anymore, but I don't. I just perform, and I get by.
I’m as good as I can be with the buka, and all the rest, I take out on other people. I say “excuse me” louder than necessary to the tourists poking along. I lost it in the supermarket yesterday when the clerk told the man behind me to get in front of me and the woman in front of me in the line. He only had three items, whereas I and the woman had already unloaded our full baskets on the conveyor belt. When it was my turn, I asked the clerk how that helped the situation, to make two people wait, in order for one person to get through faster. I don’t understand what you’re saying, she said, pushing all my buttons that hadn’t already been pushed.
The fact that I’m foreign isn’t the problem. I’m sensitive. It’s spring. Love is in the air.
And from the front:
This very impressive garden is what my father calls a “truck garden” -- so profuse the goods have to be trucked out, and the water to nourish it trucked in.
It’s all so lovely, but lately, I’ve been going through a recurrent and very familiar “I can’t live in this country” phase. My work situation is a big disappointment, one I can’t fix til September. The buka’s fine (three teeth and counting) but her food is a lot of work. And she’s older now, and wigglier, and can’t sit still very long -- which means I can’t sit still very long either. But the hardest thing about having a baby, for me anyway, isn’t the food or the constant activity or even the crying or the diapers or the interrupted sleep. It’s always having to be “on,” to be funny and happy, to be at your best, and in the mood.
It can be hard to sustain.
And for all the times I complained about being alone, now I wish I had time alone. The only time I have to “rest” from the baby is, ironically, when I work. Teaching is also performing. It’s such a cliché to say I don’t know who I am anymore, but I don't. I just perform, and I get by.
I’m as good as I can be with the buka, and all the rest, I take out on other people. I say “excuse me” louder than necessary to the tourists poking along. I lost it in the supermarket yesterday when the clerk told the man behind me to get in front of me and the woman in front of me in the line. He only had three items, whereas I and the woman had already unloaded our full baskets on the conveyor belt. When it was my turn, I asked the clerk how that helped the situation, to make two people wait, in order for one person to get through faster. I don’t understand what you’re saying, she said, pushing all my buttons that hadn’t already been pushed.
The fact that I’m foreign isn’t the problem. I’m sensitive. It’s spring. Love is in the air.
posted by soap at
10:58 AM
4 Comments:
I saw many lemons, but no cat (unless it's that little thing sitting on the balcony railing way in the back). How many points for that?
All I see in the air are little particles of sand that the south winds blew here from Africa (they probably flew over your head too a couple of days ago).
I wonder if mr. Bensah had anything to do with it...
No points. You didn't spot the cat. Or the love. It's in the air, I swear. Ask Bensah if you don't believe me.
Hi Sissoula, I feel for you having to be "up" all the time. I know how much of a strain that can be.
And dont those supermarket moments just make you want to grab the cashier's microphone and say "could I have some manners to checkout three, checkout three....manners.."
Spring is in the air in Greece, but Autumn here. The trees along main street are are losing their leaves. I wish for you an hour or two of enjoying your leaves on the ground before you have to be spring again. (if you know what I mean)...
Thanks Lu (for the metaphor, and the moral support). Spring lasted for about five minutes. I'm not sure what bearing it'll have on the cat-spotting or the air quality, but... it's summer already.
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