Coloring Inside the Lines with a Black Crayon
“ Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for.” Maya Angelou
”Or a whole freaking year.” JuJu Harris
“Thank you for contacting the abyss. Your scream is very important to us.” Meme
This is a picture of me from 2023 in Italy. See how relaxed I am? When I was there I thought “what do I need to do so that I feel like this nearly all the time?” I went home and mulled it over, and decided “If I want to feel like I did in Italy, I need to MOVE to Italy.”
As you know, I quit my job to travel in Europe this year. I said Hasta Enero 2025 (See ya in January 2025) to my family and sashayed out the door. I love that word, sashayed. It’s like “I’m walking outta here knowing I’m the shit and the world is about to be LIT!” England, Scotland, Budapest, Italy, Crete! I was having a ball and then got The Call. Family emergency. Despite being urged to stay on my trip “because Popi could take care of things”. Nuh uh, Popi can’t even take care of my animals decently. You think I was gonna let him deal with a SITUATION? I canceled my next two WorkAways (housesitting on one Greek island, gardening on another) and caught a flight home. Of course, I was bummed that my longed for Greek holiday was a bust. Year ago I saw that (terribly cheesy) movie starring Daryl Hannah called Summer Lovers and have been jonesing to spend some time on a Greek island. Well, it just wasn’t supposed to happen this year. But yes, I bought a round trip ticket, thinking that 6 weeks should be enough time to deal with the kafuffle.
Years ago, my therapist asked me if I thought of myself as an optimist or a pessimist. I told her that I’m a cynical optimist. She replied that no such thing exists. I corrected her by saying “Yes, there is. I think you were absent the day that it was discussed.” Every time there’s some glitch on my journey— a delayed train, a freezing night spent at one of my WorkAway sites—I say “oh well, it’s part of the adventure.” This time I told myself “how many families wish their dear one could come home and either she’s unable to make the trip or she’s dead?” I had the financial means and freedom to hop a plane and head for Maryland. A few weeks later, the cynic in me was muttering about how, despite 21-26 years of my excellent tutelage, these people had proved untrainable. It’s better if I live alone and take care of everything by myself. I don’t have the patience to give them anymore mental space and the visual havoc they cause nearly outweighs he warm fuzzies I have for them.” Granted, the house wasn’t in the state of BLECH like when I left last time. However, my cat Lyra who lived in the greenhouse due to the “Wobblies” was flea bitten, her stomach was one hug mat of hair, and I found turds and hairballs in various stages of mummification when I excavated the depths of the room. The dogs fared better in terms of grooming, but their area was covered with dehydrated crap. I know my older dogs have problems with constipation, but they don’t poop out CINDERS. I asked my child to clean and arrange the carport in an inviting manner. He said “I don’t understand your aesthetic.” I replied “it’s not swanky but it’s definitely not ‘Shit Hole’”. Sigh.
Back home, managing the fallout from the emergency, I busied myself with gardening and painting projects, the two things that simultaneously drive me nuts and soothe me. I attended a couple of events to network for work and even got a few offers! In the back of my mind, though, and as noted on MANY of my Instagram posts, I couldn’t shake the thought of leaving and resuming my journey. I kept reminding myself to cancel my July WorkAway and change my ticket to an October departure because I AM determined to spend my 60th birthday in ITALY, no matter what. However, even though I had my Big Girl Panties pulled all the way up to my armpits and heading for my earlobes, I couldn’t be at peace with being home. I wanted to LEAVE. One week I was a fusion of Pissed Off and Miserable Cow, alternating between being that my plans had been thwarted and crying because I was feeling trapped, as this IG post shows: “Currently shit is shit and I’m mentally, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted so Imma tap out, take an edible and paint my greenhouse today.” 3 days later, I penned this little gem: “seriously considered selling the house this week and disappearing into the ether. Trying hard to replace stankitude with gratitude. Succeeding a little, but “This Fucking Sucks” is my current theme song. This is the kind of shit that kills people’s spirits. These days I am coloring inside the lines and using the black crayon.”
Two days before my ticket would have expired, I got an email from the hostess of the WorkAway in Albania that I’d signed on for. She said she was excited about me coming. Two years ago, I’d had to cancel my gig at her place because of another family emergency. I started writing an email explaining that I couldn’t come and then thought, “Wait a minute. I owe myself this trip and THIS is what I want to do!” I’d been spending money buying plants and stuff for the house to fill the empty hole that was traveling. I replied “see you in a couple of days.” When Vale got home, I told him “I need to go to Albania. I HAVE to go to Albania. I leave day after tomorrow.” Vale said ok. I wrapped up the most pressing of my projects, contacted people to withdraw from work commitments, planted a few last things, spent time with my animals and packed my bags.
I’ve been in Albania for7 days. I’m working in the kitchen, and already I’ve decided that I’ll only be here a month instead of the two as I’d originally planned. There are lots of frogs here and I won’t have the opportunity to learn anything about this country from Albanians. I’m not sure where I’m going yet. When I do, I’ll let you know.
