August 8, 2010

Seven days and counting

It feels like a year. Okay, the expected re-entry process has been more difficult than anticipated. Picture a CD playing at full tilt that's ripped out of the player. That's me.  For one thing, let's discuss the bugs. Evidently there has been an infestation of mosquitoes from a horror movie since we left. Creature Features lives.  While walking around the backyard and surveying the weed situation, myself and my five year old were attacked by mosquitoes. They went down my shirt and up my pants legs. Who gets bit on their knees while wearing pants? I do. Then I noticed many small children in town looking like they had chicken pox on their faces. Upon further investigation it appeared that the evil mosquitoes had descended upon them as well. Ick.

I love farmer's markets. From the first sign of spring I am anticipating the energy rush of all the beautiful produce plucked so recently from the ground. Summer is my favorite time to cook and prepare meals, inspired by the gorgeous bounty. Obviously our local farmer's markets are not going to bear any similarity to the ones in France. We have different soil, light, weather conditions. So my expectations were not particularly high for the local market, and it was o.k. Smaller than last year, and a little anemic, though I did find some beautiful triple creme cheese with apricots and almonds that was amazingly delicious. We ripped it open, slathered it on water crackers and practically ate the entire chunk standing at the kitchen counter. 

Now for the boxes. Coming home to a house filled with packed boxes that need to be emptied overwhelms me with fatigue. This is the most difficult hurdle of all. Getting back into the swing of children's schedules and school necessities is "child's play"  compared to this. How do people cope with unpacking moving boxes? How would a French woman cope with the unpacking and organizing of hundreds of boxes. Those bastions of efficiency and energy would certainly not allow boxes to sit around for weeks collecting dust and above all, looking ugly.   One friend says attack it head on, get it over with, then on with your life. Another's advice is one box a day – it's not so miserable. I would love some advice on this.

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