In Love with France, At Home In Italy

  Who has 36,550 photos in her iPhone? I do! Not to mention the 1914 videos. Could this be the very same dinosaur who was dragged kicking and screaming into the computer generation? The one who wouldn’t go near a technological device unless her husband and son were within screaming distance?     Actually, these numbers will not come as a surprise to those who know me as the hoarder that I am. And once I found out, thanks to Reedsy, that I wouldn’t have to choose just one photo for this Author Page but that—wow!—I could have 8–naturally,I had to look through my entire collection to obsess about which ones to choose. Of course there were way too many candidates, but then I realized that my Italian alter-ego, Donatella de Poitiers, the one who writes this blog probably wouldn’t mind if I used the outtakes here. But only if she forgives me for neglecting her during the years it took to publish  Letters to Men of Letters , which had a long gestation period. At some point ...

What does it mean that I am still wearing my young son's first bathing suit shirt with the fishies on it? It says "Oversized Fit," but the manufacturer would probably be surprised to see it being worn three decades after purchase by a kid's 68-year-old mother.  BTW, she's still wearing his adult cast-offs for gardening, not to mention her own deceased father's socks. But fortunately I married a non-harder and I am proud to have raised a non-hoarder, so maybe there's hope for me.  On the other hand, it's pretty clear that my precious relics will go down with me. As I write this, I'm wearing a favorite (hand-dyed by me) flapper-style nightie from a tie-dye party we had circa 1969. That supremely comfortable nightgown, once a pallid yellow, is now a much more spritely mauve embellished with fuchsia and purple snowflake-like patterns that will never go out of style. Never mind that I keep having to re-sew a tear in the sea...

I may live on two continents, but that doesn't mean that I travel well. Maybe a photo or two of the toilettries I brought on a recent 5-day trip will suffice to explain.  True confession: I am a reforming hoarder who has really tried to cut back on what I need to bring when leaving home, but you probably couldn't tell from these pictures. And this isn't even all of it. In an effort at self-help, I'm going to list some of these objects, and think out loud about how necessary they are.  
 ON SECOND THOUGHT, NEVER MIND! I see that I started this post over a month ago, and it just sat here waiting for me to deal with it. ARGH! More hoarding? 
But maybe there's another way to look at it: I knew I had another trip coming up, and my intention was to study all this stuff and see what I could do to travel lighter. As an extra incentive, there would be no checked bags, and the weight limit for carry-on was 8 kilo...

No matter how hard you try, I doubt you will be able to figure out what's going on here. Never mind the dead fruit tree at the left. Mystery photo #1 Mystery photo *2 Mystery photo #3 Under that pile of ???, beneath the limited winter sun of the next few months is a rest home for plants that have no business being outside at this time of year. The shadow is of the wacky woman who should be packing right now instead of conducting nutty plant experiments. In just three days, she's set to head back into the serious winter weather of the US Northeast where no gardenia, hibiscus, or geranium cuttings would stand a chance. A sensible, non-hoarder would say, as do the clergy at funerals, something to the effect of: "So-and-so has enjoyed a good life, but her work on earth is done. Now it's time for a well-earned rest."  Instead, I am pushing the envelope, trying to see if a little more life can be squeezed out of these pla...