Watch this space

Hi! Yes! I’m back from France and up to my ears in moving. My step-mom came back with me and is directing everything because I can’t think, but I will update the blog… at some point. When I can whittle the story down to something coherent because, um, it’s kind of a mess and you’ll want to know why it shook out this way. Or I, looking back from the future, will want to know what the hell I was thinking, because on the face of it, it looks like I’m complicating things unnecessarily. All I can say is that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Yeah. Let me think about how I’m going to explain this.

Song du jour of the day: River, by Joni Mitchell.



We needed a market (because fruit), and this one seemed like the best of the nearby options. It was actually a pretty disappointing market, so I suspect it wasn’t the main one, but it had fruit, so okay. But coincidentally, V-la-R was having some kind of Roman re-enactment thing, so I took a bunch of pictures! Which I cropped and spiffed and now can’t find. Hang on a sec…

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Some stuff we did

We went to the Camargue! And we got to ride a tiny ferry!

And then we were here:

… and we saw some flamingos, very far off, and I took some pictures but they just look like white blobs in the distance. So then we went here:

… and I got some slightly better pictures.

The flamingos did much more interesting things than just stand around, but never when I was pointing a camera at them. Oh well. Flamingos, am I right?

Also there may have been some mosquitoes.

Yes that is my knee and shin.

That was yesterday. Today we did literally nothing because Provence is roughly the temperature of the sun’s surface and our AirBnB has air conditioning. The fruit situation is desperate, but we have enough stinky cheese and delicious bread to hold out until the morning farmer’s market.

Provence is such a good place to ignore your problems.

I can too pick out a good AirBnB so neener

I loved traveling with Mr. Husband partly because he was so good at finding really great places to stay. But I found this one all by myself and it is spiffing, so that is also a thing I don’t need him for. I will continue to look for things to add to the list.




Lavender! Bees!

Olive trees!

View from the driveway

Big shady tree


Hello I am in France and lo, it sweltereth. On the bright side, the town I’m in is pronounced like “bone”, which amuses the hell out of my inner 12-year-old.

What do you suppose people do in here? Hur hur hur…

An interruption

So on top of everything else, my brother and his wife, my step-mom, and her brother and his family are all coming to Europe. Like, now. They are or will shortly be in various bits of France, and of course I want to see them. This has been in the planning for months and months, long before Mr. Husband decided to blow our immediate family to smithereens.

But then he did that, and so now, right in the middle of moving, I have to go to France for a week. I would have gone for longer, but you know. And I kind of find myself resenting my family for their terrible timing, but of course they gave me plenty of warning and the terrible timing was all Mr. Husband’s.

So that adds to the procrastination. Every day I mean to move to the new house, but that will just complicate the packing and prep for the week I have to be gone. And the week I have to be gone complicates the move, to the point of paralyzing me. Then too, I can’t take Hekate to the new place, so she will stay here at the house until Mr. Husband moves into his new place with Bitchface McWhoresy, and it’s not like I’ll be able to visit her there, so I’m trying to get as much time with her as I can.

Not that we get a lot of snuggles in, because oh yeah! We’re in the middle of a heat wave.

Song du jour of the day: Daniel Castro, I’ll Play the Blues for You.

this is not helping

I really thought I’d feel better once I could start doing something. Knowing I had to move out was awful, but once I actually got started on it I could keep busy and distract myself and it would maybe mitigate the grief somewhat. But then I found every excuse not to get started.

For awhile I was saying I need boxes so I can start packing, it’s making me crazy wandering around the house, picking things up, deciding whether to keep them or leave them behind, and then putting them back where they were because, whatever I had decided, I couldn’t do anything about it right then. Then I borrowed some boxes from a friend in Mannheim, and they sat in the front hallway forever.

Then I decided I need to know where I’m moving to, which was actually a legitimate thing: turns out, since I’m moving to a shared house, I don’t actually need any kitchen stuff at all, for instance. There are some things I’m fond of, though, which will have to go into storage: I’ve had that copper-bottomed pot since I moved out of my mom’s house, I’m not giving it up.

Once I’d signed the rental contract I needed mini-storage. I set that up on Wednesday, a very tearful day in which I needed to feel like I was doing something, and then yesterday was to be for packing and putting stuff in storage. I managed two boxes – everything I’m taking from the basement – yesterday, and the bathroom box today. And today I dragged Thing Two down to the storage locker to help me put up some shelves and hoick two of the boxes (my car is very small).

So yeah. Two shelves up, three boxes packed, and I do not feel better. I should. I’m keeping busy, I’m making lots of (probably very questionable) decisions, I’m staying active! But I think I have overestimated the value of moving forward and let that obscure the fact that this is still not a direction I want to be going in.

I’m just so tired of being sad.

Song du jour of the day: Together, by Ryan O’Shaughnessy.