I visited a church with a friend today and it was a lovely visit indeed. Dorothy and her friend took me out to lunch afterwards, to a little place called Kimberly's Cafe in Carlisle after the service. Breakfast all day. Lovely.
Once home, I ran a few errands with Joyful and Munchkin and Traci. I needed to get a cafetiere. Trust me, this was a need. I've missed making my coffee this way. So, thanks to Ross, I'm now set with a 8 cup cafetiere for $9.99. Can't beat that. We stopped by a little drive-through for some Italian Ice to celebrate the beautiful spring day. Joyful and I are creatures of habit. Mango Italian Ice. It doesn't get better.
Once I got home, in a fit of post illness energy, I cleaned both the kitchen and bathroom. If it strikes again, the carpet will be my next target. Something about spring demands clean floors dried by the crisp breeze.
But it was too pretty to stay inside. Now, I'm settled out on the balcony. I should get a lounge chair for out here sometime. Today, I've piled three blankets on the floor, propped a pillow against the wall, and nudged the screen up enough to allow my computer cable to stretch from the bedroom out to me.
No one sees me as they pass by. I like that about balconies. I have always loved watching people and I've never felt the need to be involved in what is going on. It's fascinating enough just to watch. Perhaps that is what drew me to anthropology, my passion for observing. As people pass by, they are either in cars or running. I can't help but think about Laura's passionate view on running: The only time to run is when someone is chasing you!
Instead, I'm perched, hidden away on my balcony, enjoying a big glass of Diet Pepsi and chopped up cantaloupe in one of my oversized Whittard's of Chelsea mugs. I am savoring the fruit as well as the fact that I can eat and drink without feeling ill.
The author and his wife and twin boys moved to Rome for a year while he worked on a book. Four Seasons in Rome is about that year in Rome. Perhaps some of why I loved it was being able to picture many of the places he visited. He shares much of their adjustment to life in Rome as well. The book alternates between larger world encounters and the simple day to day of his family. I have to share on little except, just to encourage you all to read this too! He writes about his wife giving their son his first taste of chocolate:
"On Easter Sunday we melt the shell of an infant-sized chocolate egg and dip strawberries in it and set them on foil to dry. Only in Italy would the chocolate from an egg containing two red plastic robots taste good enough to make you want to cry. Shauna dips a finger in the warm chocolate and slips it into Henry's mouth, and his face seems to crack open with wonder. He looks at his mother as if to say, You've been putting green beans on my tray and the world includes this?" (Kindle location 1499).
Three sentences have stayed with me more than most. Doerr wrote, "Not knowing is always more thrilling than knowing. Not-knowing is where hope and art and possibility and invention come from. It is not-knowing, that old, old thing, that allows everything to be renewed" (Kindle location 1911). I love that.
In this time of not-knowing, I think I need that reminder. Today I was tempted to hop on a plane and decide I'll spend my days working on a beach resort in Bali, or somewhere exotic. (Don't worry, family, I'm not.) This not-knowing can be a bit overwhelming if I let it. I struggle with my own love of the thrill of not-knowing and also sometimes wanting the stability of a completely known life. But I'd rather let "hope and possibility and invention" come into the next step I take.
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