Tag: The General

Decluttering: The Mini-Series

 

I am aghast to see that it is now October and that I have been retired for six months!

Yes time flies when one is working (and particularly always working with dates, as I used to) but now the hours scream by and literally, it is always 4 o’clock and by then there’s not enough of the day left to really be starting a new task when you could be tucked into the last bit of weak sunshine on the stairs with a book (and wine) or sitting outside (now in a cardigan) surprising an entirely different avian crowd than there is in the morning!

(In my previous life, I would be sorting laundry, washing the floor as I talked on the phone to someone and maybe doing some prep towards the next day’s dinner).

And this was after I got home from work!

Anyway, The General and I did decide to embark upon a decluttering of the basement this week and have already done a few runs to the thrift shop which feels amazingly freeing, just as Marie Kondo promised. We have been watching her show on Netflix as a kind of warm-up inspiration before we go downstairs although I have had to explain to The General that this does not count as “working on the basement” especially as a snack break was included.

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Nine to Five No More

It’s been almost two months to the day since I cleared out my desk and began my (super early) retirement. I have purposefully not shared this information here because it is has been such a churning and peculiar adjustment, full of highs and lows, more than a few bracing 3 am walks around the hardwood floors but mostly, because I fear being judged as old and irrelevant, there I said it.

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The Garden of Weedin’

 

I was never The Master Gardener in my previous life. I always loved the garden and had distinct ideas about what was swoon-worthy (tangled drifts of blue and white flowers; nothing too contrived; no tight dots of military arranged begonias). However, the reality was, I placed no real value on my own contributions and it was simpler to pass the reigns to my husband as he strutted through the garden with Napoleonic control, instinctively knowing what should go where and why certain colours were superior to others. My role (which we joked about frequently and the word “navvy” was often playfully supplied) was to clear out the weeds, bag and bundle the branches he tossed aside and make sure there was a pitcher of martinis and an elegant meal ready at the end of the day. 

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Crimson and Clover

Before and after the Easter holidays, I traditionally take a few days off to complete projects I have been meaning to return to (I’m looking at you, streamlined recipe binders) no longer flinging ragged sheets everywhere as I try to squeeze your gaping three rings closed with an arthritic crocodilian snap. But in-between bursts of energy like this, The General and I have shut the doors against the snow and wind and taken to wandering around with cups of scented tea and wedges of sticky Baklava, talking for hours about topics as diverse as Sidney Bechet, British trade unionists  (to be fair, we were considering The Perfect Dog Name for a dog we do not have – yet) and soon to be perused Roberto Bolaño, the poet that Patty Smith mentions so often in M Train. 

In short, it’s my idea of bliss.

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February Blahs


There’s a meme depicting a vintage woman with her head in her hands and the caption reads something like, “being a woman is like having a browser with 3,000 tabs open all.the.time.”

This is so, so true. At any one time, I can be thinking about a new recipe I want to try, whether or not I have time to go to the market, that spot under the door where an ambitious wind is literally sucking the heat out of the house, a subsequent trip to the hardware store for draft edging (maybe on the way to the market?) why I haven’t called my brother(s) lately, which kind of seeds I should start for the spring, if it’s worth pursuing a skin regimen that would include coconut oil, debating whether tomorrow is the time to begin afresh with a stretching routine and some actual meditation and then throw The General off completely by asking him randomly if he also thinks (as I do) that Coco Chanel’s famous boyfriend Boy Capel as seen here, looks exactly like Harry Connick Jr. right in the middle of a post-breakfast discussion about the British Raj in subcontinent India …

I think it can be quite alarming for him.

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