My New Chez Moi

Well, t'is a first for me. I'm living in a camping car. I'm using a toilette sèche (and quite the rudimentary one, amazing thing saw dust...). I hose myself off to shower (excepting the hours when my renters are away, then I can use my new outdoor shower at my house...). I've but my toaster oven, my rice cooker and a small gas burner I've yet to get working for food prep. I think there'll be lots of salad and rice cakes in my future.

But actually, it's rather marvelous. I've put my own futon and bedding in the camping car -- upon which I sleep really pretty well, even if my toes do tap on the facing wall (this is not a set-up for two people! unless they be munchkins). Mosquitoes will eventually be an issue. I've one mosquito net that I've put outside above my divan/canapé. As the spot I've put it in is shaded in the afternoon, it seems the best solution to the periodic necessary afternoon nap.


I brought my new hammock over to be with me for this month (it will go back to the house when I depart for Michigan, and thus be there for the August renters). I've a couple tables, chairs, cushions, a simple dish-washing set up (two containers, a hose, a sponge).


With my neighbor we set up his fridge and my freezer in his garage (closed with a key). And there I've my bread for the summer (baked last week and frozen), wines, jams, tomato sauce, cheeses, eggs, etc.,

What more could I ask for? Till I get the burner working I'm limited as to hot water, pasta, etc., But I don't miss them too much. I'm drinking sun tea at the moment. And last night I made quite a nice little batch of raisin scones in my toaster oven. Not too shabby.

Filou has taken it upon himself to be my primary protector and intruder-alert source. Unfortunately the latter apparently includes my most direct neighbor and host (oops!).

Filou is at my side, or under the caravan/camping car at all times. Even at night he has decided that this is his space. Akin to Jack in the Little House in the Prairie. Only in the morning, about 6:30AM do I hear a gentle scratching at my door to be let in. Thus he spends perhaps two hours on his bed in the car before heading back outside to live his summer life.

Not being far from my own home, I can sit in a corner of the property and have internet access (quite useful!). And soon, that fig tree that shades my table will bear fruit (yum!) and who knows, maybe I'll make a few tarts in my toaster oven? I think I could get used to living in 1.5 meters by 2.5 meters... Certainly the clean-up time is brief!

Getting ready for the renters

Yes, it's that time of year. A glorious time to enjoy good weather (should and if we be blessed with it). A time to be with friends, and...

Oh yes, a time to prepare the house for renters, badger the kids to go through their stuff, clean from top to toe, behind, beneath, between and beyond. A time to go mildly insane (not helped by the fierce and chilly gusts of the unseasonal Mistral winds). A time to work till I drop, break finger nails, turn my hands into sand paper, and drop weight without noticing.

The first step is to remove things - from the bed rooms, from the walls, from the kitchen shelves, from the bathroom, from all over the house -- to render the house both more neutral, but also more open for its summer occupants.

So, out go all the winter things, into boxes all the fragile and personal objects/dishes/etc., streamline the kids' toys, re-align the books, purge the old, the used, the not necessary, sift through the sheets leaving only the presentable ones (perfectly folded). And then, when the surfaces are clear, the spaces nearly bare, begin to clean and clean and clean. Cobwebs off the ceiling, dust off the shelves, grease and baked on things in the oven, crumbs and spills from the fridge. A once a year scrubbing with bleach in the shower (with a septic tank, t'is not recommended)...

As I rent my house from the day after the end of school, it is all particularly stressful as here I am trying to put order into a space fully lived in. Never a pleasant nor easy task.

The change from last year is that rather than heading off to the winery with simply my summer clothes, necessary papers, and a couple of favorite cooking utensils in my car, I'm moving into a tiny camping car on the grounds of my nearest neighbor. Thus, I'm not moving far away (this is a bonus), allowing me to take care of my garden and pool for the renters rather than pay another person to do so. But, nor am I moving into a furnished space. I'm camping. Thus, what do I need? What will I use? Spices? Pots and pans? Linens? My rice cooker? Italian coffee maker? dishes, salad bowl(s), wine glasses... and food, olive oil, wine? What will I eat? Will I serve anyone in my more restrained circumstances?

And what about my wardrobe? I've already pared it down, but... it certainly seems to visually take up about 4 times more space than the tiny closet in the camping car. Dear dear... what's a girl to do? Five weeks of summer, future tango balls, hiking, biking, outings and more ahead of me... A girl needs her things, no?

Each day I go through more, sift out more, remove and pack up more. And, thank goodness, my neighbor has space in his garage to store all my things. But as the pile grows higher and broader, he says to me rather nervously, "you will be removing these things after the summer, right?" And I reassure him that of course I will, as promptly as I can.

Did I mention that there isn't a garage or an attic or a spare room in my house? I rent it all, and thus I do what I can to stash things under the stairwell, in handsome antique suit cases (which double as side tables), in trunks (that decorate the walls), etc., even under beds. But...

I remember that huge hanger/garage at the winery where so many things could lie forgotten from various past lives, children, etc., Here, this is not possible. We are all obliged to do a full Feng Shui (Fu Sui in Japanese) yearly. Do you no longer play with these? out they go. Do you no longer wear this? out it goes. Is it broken? damaged? out it goes. Make room, clear a space, relinquish, and banish.

Though this week is brutal, I know I'll be peaceful and content slowly and selectively moving back in at the end of August. I just need to get through this week, and then... The adventure of camping begins. This should prove to be a very interesting summer.

June 12, 2010

Though I'm physically weary from a day of wine tasting in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, I'm still in a good space.

As I dance, cope, clean, explore, work, sort out, and more I'm amazed at the calm I feel. The French would say, 'apaisée.' How strange and good to be whole, solid, present. And how surreal to think of the time I spent these past two years being anything but! How could I have gotten so far from myself? How could earning a living have been so difficult? How could the stress and tension and urgency so overwhelm me? How could another's view and opinion of me have become so important?

Now, I've my weekends back, along with my general sanity and self. After those first when I wasn't certain what to do with myself, I'm now coming to revel in the quiet, the chance to weed the garden in my pjs, the chance to sleep in, to clean, to get things in order, to check on my bank accounts, to pay bills, to see friends, to go out dancing in my neighborhood (and thus to not have more than 10 minutes in the car either way). I'm pretty much getting it all done.

Oh part of me is worrying a bit about the sheer quantity of housecleaning and putting away I've got to do before the renters arrive in two weeks (countdown is beginning!). I'd like to go through all my old files and toss most of them into the recycling. Will I? I need to do my run through the house to remove all that's personal and fragile. There's the kids' things to sort through and pack up. And of course the top to toe cleaning as is done but once a year. Banish the cob webs, scrub down the shower, empty the septic (done by an outside company, not to worry, I'm not getting my own pumps or shovels out), clean the oven and the fridge and, well all those necessary things.

All the curtains come down and get cleaned and put back up. All the bedding gets re-folded and re-organized (you can imagine the state it is in after a year of pre-teens and boys to boot rummaging through it all!).

What is different this year is that I'll put my stuff at my neighbor's in his garage rather than at JP's. And, I'm moving into a small camping car on his property, which is directly across from my own. Thus, I need to bring with me the essentials for this summer -- all the food stuffs, some pots and pans, bedding, computer, printer, personal files, clothes, etc., Not all will fit into a camping van, that is sure. So??? A problem to be solved. And no doubt some cleaning of the camping van before I move into it. Just an additional element to add to the mix.

But, for the moment I'm simply contemplating and organizing in my head, not freaking out. In any case, I've three more days of touring before I can fully concentrate on all this. The key is to work methodically, steadily, and take sufficient breaks to not be a complete exhausted mess at the end of each day. I'm still learning. Work till you drop has more often been my rhythm...

However, another difference this year is that more than one friend has offered to help out -- rubber gloves in hand!

So now, rather than be a broken record over my frustrating relationship issues, I'm going to be one over the generosity of the universe... it's like a very persistent meme. When I feel something, I state it, I shout it to the world, and well, it's there.

In my own home, at last

I returned to France a week ago, but I only came home to my house today. I saw off the renters this weekend, and now, slowly but surely, I'm taking back possession of my home. All the little things that add up to a relationship between an individual and his/her place of rest. I look around, I take stock and I begin to take care of, fix, clean, and more.

I've got the pool back to perfection, in a calm and leisurely way. It is time consuming to vacuum the bottom of a pool, but it is also a very soothing activity on a beastly hot day. Having found and killed a nest of wasps (not before being stung quite painfully on a finger/knuckle however), I then turned my wet, bathing suit-adorned body to weeding the tremendously over-grown vegetable patch. Now last week and the week before, I lent my hand at some little weeds, in soft sandy soil, easily removed from around some lovely strawberries and tiny carrots. Amidst my crowded tomato and potato plants, the weeds were anything but dainty. I felt I was removing baby trees. The soil was soft though, and the roots came easily (excepting my hardy crop of dandelion greens, but as I eat these, I'm not too worried by their very determined root system).

The front garden is truly a mess, so I soaked it and will work on it tomorrow morning. I think I just need to cut everything back. The rose bushes are straggly and in numerous cases diseased, and grass a passing memory. The jasmine and a huge orange flowered plant in front of my door are happily growing and growing and growing -- dwarfing a small rose bush or two beneath them. I clearly need to put some lavender plants out front -- something that is not too thirsty, but that will look nice through the summer (or at least through early August). I can see that I'm lacking summer flowering plants, having a predominantly spring garden. Ah, projects for the future.

The cane is so overgrown I have to duck under it to get to the pool, and the bay laurel and thyme laurel are trees in the making. I'm not looking forward to cutting back that sturdy cane with my sorry clippers, but I'll nonetheless make a go of it tomorrow morning.

The lawn has not enjoyed this hot and dry summer, so I'm soaking it progressively, from spot to spot. Happily I've a well, and a functioning pump! What more? Mail to go through, clothing to put away, and a shower to scrub. What is it about renters that they don't clean the shower before their departure? What part of "put everything back into the state you found it" is incomprehensible? But I'm not complaining. All the renters enjoyed my home this summer and were lovely and complimentary at their departure. So, though yes, there are minor things broken, some water soaked wood around my kitchen sinks (to be replaced next summer...), etc., the house seems to have come through fine.

One more thing, there is a day-long battle to wage against some very happy and prolific spiders in this house before Jonas enters it next week. And then, this quiet space where I'm all alone will be filled with my two kids plus four. I'm enjoying this peaceful moment for what it is -- brief and nourishing.

The final cleaning and dunking

Before the kids' departure Friday with their father, we all enjoyed a final dunking, and I a final vacuuming and skimming of the pool. The house is surrounded by fields of sunflowers in full bloom. They couldn't be more fantastic. There, lying back enjoying the cool water, or simply walking slowly in the water skimmer in hand, I revel in a view of golden fields beyond.... Wow. I think I'll miss it all when I hand over the house. I do hope the renters enjoy it half as much as I do.

June 2009 is now officially passed

I'm not sure when I've lived a more intense month. Somehow, everything comes to a head during what should be a glorious, energizing month of beautiful weather, parties, happy kids, pool time... and great ripe fruit. And yet, it was a month of stress and worry, sickness and sleepless nights, and just way too much house-cleaning.

It's over now. I've cleaned my house to the best of my abilities. Martine helped me paint the floor. Carol came by with her maid to help me clean one day, and Mireille showed up that last Saturday to spend six hours with me scrubbing all that still needed doing, such as the hot water pot and the salad spinner and the oven and the door of the fridge. We pulled out the beds and vacuumed away armies of dust bunnies (beds with drawers are heavy and not easy to clean under on a regular basis!). We made every bed in the house, double-checked the dust on every shelf, made each room just so, counted the towels (I'm not sure there were enough, so I'm bringing more from the b&b). The front courtyard and back received their sweeping. What more to do?

There were last minute purchases -- laundry detergent, new cushions for the outside couch, towels. And forgotten ones -- sponges, dishwashing liquid.

The stress of putting a house that is very much lived in into perfect condition... As I well know, what will be noticed is what has been forgotten or what isn't perfect, not what is. Will they enjoy the fresh herbs in the garden? my super clean pool (which I've finally mastered after three years' of ownership), the farm around the corner? the books and cds I've left for them to peruse?

Ah well, this group is only there a week, and, this hottest of weeks in Provence. I forgot to tell them to keep the windows and shutters closed during the day time.... The natural cool of the stones may be lost by Saturday when I return to see them off.

Perhaps next week will bring cool weather? and the next renters will be able to return the house to some semblance of its refreshing essence?

I am now homeless. I cook a meal for two (or rather cut up vegetables for salad...), I sweep away only the burrs from Filou's rambles, I toss in a load of laundry a week rather than 5. I've errands, a couple of tours, but for the moment no children to care for, no house of my own to maintain. I feel remarkably light right now.

Onwards towards vacation.

Readying the House for the Summer Rentals

I've a lovely house in Avignon. Truly, as I sought a new home in the region, and gaped and gawked at the possibilities (and/or lack thereof) this house answered my prayers. Just the right size for the boys and me, plus a room or two to rent or to transform one day into an office. There's the garden out back where I could put a small pool, a first effort at a vegetable garden, my roses, and more. And we're surrounded by small country roads, fields filled with wheat, or this year sunflowers, and orchards of apples, pears and peaches. Each evening that I can eat my dinner with the children on the terrace I thank my lucky stars. I find it incredible that for twelve of my years in Provence I lived in a town house in town, with no terrace, no balcony, no courtyard, no garden. All meals were eaten inside the darkness of the house, and rarely did I see the clear or cloudy skies, nor the night stars. I feel blessed.

However, this house came at a price -- and one which I continue to pay in the form of a rather steep mortgage (let's say that if I got a normal job tomorrow in France, I wouldn't be able to cover the mortgage with ease). But, I chose the house with the idea of a summer rental (or two or three) in mind. My parents rented our house in New York most summers -- it is by Long Island Sound and a private sandy beach. They also rented our summer house for the weeks we weren't there, and a small apartment in the basement of the NY house. I think it was my father who was so smart about money and expenses. He immediately saw the virtues in renting our homes, and thus put into motion years of intense late spring cleanings to ready for said renters.

Hence I've followed in the tradition. Knowing that I like to spend the summer -- at least a portion of it -- with my family in Michigan, and that I've friends who might house me should I need such here in Provence, I rent my Avignon house for as much of this period as possible. My boys are either with my family in the States or with their father from the last day of school till the week before school starts. Thus another potential problem handled.

But, this remunerative act does not come without a hell of a lot of work. I begin the first day of June, and I'll be cleaning and organizing through to the afternoon arrival of my first renters on the 27th. I've removed all winter and cold weather clothes of the boys and myself, and gone through all of these, putting whatever is too small, etc., into a Red Cross bag. I've already sent most of these suitcases and cases to JP's very large garage. I'm fixing whatever needs fixing -- this year it is the kitchen and bathroom sinks and counters. They were really not in good shape, wobbling faucets, etc., So, I've bitten the bullet and put the changes into motion. The kitchen is nearly done, but now the bathroom is awaiting our attention. I've purchased an art deco hutch/buffet that I'll put a wide rectangular sink into (IKEA) with the plan that we keep the marble top of the hutch (sawing it in half/removing the middle). As the hutch is a bit tall, we'll saw off the feet... this is the plan in any case. My plumber is a bit wary, but I'm, as they say, rather determined?

Once these jobs are done, the house is pretty much in good shape -- though my roof still leaks when there are fierce rain storms, but that will need to wait till I've serious money, i.e. after the sale of the b&b in Arles. Ah yes, I need to tighten the legs of the barbecue as well.

I'll remove everything fragile or of sentimental value throughout the house -- dishes, cups, glasses, bowls, pictures of the boys, artwork, etc., I leave a stash of toys for the renters (should they have kids) and the children's books, my library, a collection of cds and the stereo, ditto my culinary library (though the majority be in English...), kitchen supplies, tools, equipment, spices, etc., And for each family of renters, I try to provide a welcome basket with some pasta, wine, olive oil, crackers, coffee, milk etc., for their first dinner and breakfast in the house.

I will repaint my kitchen floor -- something I now do yearly as the traffic that runs through the ground floor is pretty amazing: me, the 5 kids, Filou and his friend Saline, whatever friends come by, etc.,

Then, I'll attack all the machines -- scrubbing, disinfecting, etc., and I'll take out the vacuum, duster/wet clothes and sponges to clean behind and under the beds and shelves, atop every piece of furniture in those hard to reach places. I should really wear a dust mask for all this as I'll be sneezing and wheezing away.

I'll go through the sheets to be sure only the ones without holes are in the cupboard, organize them to be sure that singles/fitted/queen etc., are carefully divided up, label, and fold them to perfection.

My house has neither a garage nor an attic, nor a spare room that I close off. So, I try to get our things as compact as possible, and transfer them either to JP's or to Erick's house in Arles for the summer. I've a small space under the stairwell, and it will be full, that's certain. If I'm able, I'll hang an opaque curtain there this summer to prevent the otherwise decided eyesore.

Then, the garden -- to be freshly mown, the pool pristine, the directions on how to use said mower, maintain the pool etc., well typed out. And, if I'm all set, flowers on the table for their arrival.

It's a doozy of a job. Other years I had Hayley or Virginia (the au pair in 2007) to help out. But this year, I'm on my own. So, day by day, job by job, I'll work my way through it all.

The virtues of this act are many -- my house will be thoroughly feng shuied, cleaned, dust and cob web free, barren of personal effects. I will have had a chance to go through everything I own, clean out, remove, discard, give away. And next fall, when we move back in, I can contemplate different arrangements, or put everything back as it was, but cleaner, fresher.

But I can say now, on the 28th, I'll be a royal mess. Just let me sleep. ok?