Still "In Love With France, At Home In Italy" (even after 16 years!)

  It’s my second night as a guest in my own home, and not a creature is stirring unless you count the one in my brain. I find myself thinking about how in French, my other mother tongue, the word l’hôte translates as both host and guest. I think that the concept that these roles are interchangeable may derive from the Arabic tradition of hospitality—that everyone is expected to treat a guest as an honored self, the way she herself would wish to be treated.

 In my mindfulness group I mentioned my goal to learn to stop beating myself over the head for my shortcomings and to become a better friend to myself. Celtic poet John O’Donohue who is a recent discovery for me said it better: "Be excessively gentle with yourself."

So after yesterday’s Halloween trick-or-treat disguise as someone who is a guest in her own guest room, I am now going to inhabit the role of a lapsed blogger who is picking up the thread by returning to her favorite medium. She is referring to her neglected “In Love With France, At Home In Italy” which started out in 2011 as a birthday gift from her children. Its arrival was announced on a piece of styrofoam that once held macaroni: “This coupon entitles you to one free BLOG to be designed, constructed, and coached by your children.”  

 

Noah and Urška’s instincts were so right that this would be the perfect gift for me—a place to record our often hilarious misadventures in our new adopted country. During our first 15 years in the Umbrian countryside there was no dearth of misadventures. But now in our 16th, something new is afoot. There’s no disguising that I’m a baby boomer with a Christmas birthday who is on the cusp of her 79th year. And yet, without being sure why, I still think of myself as 16. That jibes nicely with my feeling that 16 years ago when we moved here I felt newly reborn in Italy because, for better or worse, my Proustian memory has a way of making my past totally present to me. How appropriate that today's “To Do” list includes guest-editing a piece about how Marcel ended up persuading me that he might be my cup of tea after all, and that he might do the same for skeptical readers. To write such an article could be a task that would make even Sisyphus blanch, showing up as it does so regularly on my path. We’ll see how that goes. 

 

And now to inaugurate the return to “In Love With France, At Home In Italy,” here comes—

 

 

 

WHO’S THAT STRANGER IN THE GUESTROOM?  

 

October 31. In some places, it’s a day when kids get to wear a disguise and transform themselves into somebody else who says “Trick or Treat.” So who’s that in the mirror on the pretty armoire in our camera degli ospiti—the  guest room that should have reflected the well-loved friends who were supposed to be here and for whom we had done our best to make everything ASSAP (as ship shape as possible). However, the lady in the bed looks familiar, but definitely not like J and A. 

 

Hey, wait a minute. It’s me! As October ends, I’m having the new experience of being a guest in my own guest room that’s been here for 16+ years without me ever sleeping in it. And where’s my husband? Recue dog Tiana must be sleeping on the living room couch thoroughly confused. 

 

Aha! Now it’s all coming back to me. Jim is upstairs doing his best to snore Covid away ASAP. And after testing positive yesterday, he was doing a pretty good job of it. 

 

I recently heard the peppy song, Always look on the bright side of life. Maybe you know it?

 

 https://youtu.be/X_-q9xeOgG4?si=xOXdCsjgVDO1R0q0

 

How about starting today? At first, the view from the bedroom window did not look promising. Fog enveloped the gorgeous rosebush blooming just inches away, but it seems to be burning off. 😊

 

As I consider the bright side of things, what comes to mind?

 

Firstly, I hear Dolly Parton gaily reassuring her fans, “I ain’t dead yet!” 

 

Next, I got a new experience that included a chance to inaugurate the new mattress topper we bought to make our guest bed more comfortable. 

 

Jim must be ambulatory since I just heard him and Tiana coming in from their morning walk. 

 

The bottom line? 

 

We can look forward to hosting J & A when everyone is healthy, and when they can be greeted by a less foggy view of that glorious rose bush covered in cherry popsicle-colored blooms. 

 

If I can post this without the computer playing its usual tricks on me I will take it as a sign that my blog will have forgiven me for falling off the wagon for two years and is welcoming me back.

 

Avanti!