In Love with France, At Home In Italy

(THIS IS ANOTHER IN THE "CHRONOLOGY IS OVER-RATED SERIES." IN FACT, THAT RUBRIC COULD APPLY TO NEARLY EVERYTHING THAT GETS POSTED HERE. But I've decided not to worry about it. Ditto for all the strange things that keep happening to my fonts and their sizing, and to the fuzzy photos I post (honestly, they looked just fine before they went up!), which are even keeping my techno-savvy husband perplexed. Please know that although I would love to have everything look as elegant and be as timely as the blogs I admire (Susan Morgan's HALF-YEAR ITALIAN  and Australian Celia's ever-gorgeous FIG JAM AND LIME CORDIAL), I am a certifiable Technodunce, and this is the best I can do. Among the many things Italy is teaching me is to try to leave perfectionism to those who are perfect. As long as what I post is legible, I'm going to stop fiddling and beating myself over the head about it. Roger Rosenblatt, whose writing I adore (See his "Rules For Aging," but if...

I'm looking at where I left off at the end of the past summer here in Umbria. A year of teaching French and helping others write has intervened. I had a large number of pieces pretty much ready to go, but they have been hibernating in my "Notes" Box awaiting the time I could actually finalize and post them. I think this is what can happen to anyone who writes but who also tries to deal with the business of everyday life. Further, maybe others are able to look on transitions as opportunities for excitement, whereas I tend to view them with anxiety and dread. Now who could complain about having the luxury of getting to live in an Italian-style paradise for a good chunk of the year? Non è logico in any language! Yet to write in fits and starts like this makes it hard to decide where to pick up the thread. One thing that's for sure: it's time to stop hoarding these pieces and stop obsessing about the order in which they will go. As an aside, I have to admire my friend...