(from www.theoaksvictorianinn.com)Though groggy, I think I still glowed. I still smiled. I reeked of contentment as I walked past the kitchen, waving Hello to my hosts who were standing around waiting for me in the kitchen. As the lady Innkeeper poured my coffee, she reminded me that the coffee had been out the past few mornings in the hall outside my room every morning at 7:30. I told her, while the coffee was out there, I certainly was not, and the husband laughed. She glared at him (or me) for a split second. I guess she was trying to say it had been there to help me wake up, but, I tend to like to brush my teeth before I ingest anything... it would have slowed me down anyway. I'm always in a rush in the mornings, sleeping to the last second at which I absolutely have to get up.
We talked more about the Innkeepers themselves that morning. The husband (we'll call him Trapper Joe, modified from the wife's nickname for him) would walk in and out of the room to look out the glass doors. He had set out squirrel traps in the backyard in attempt to capture the ones that had been chewing at the wiring in their attic. At first, I was afraid he meant to kill them. After all, he had smiled deviously the morning before and said, "Today's moving day! Those squirrels are moving to the cemetery today- they just don't know it!" However, I found out he meant that literally. He would catch two at a time and then load them in his truck to drive them a little more than a mile down the road where there are plenty of trees and a source of food for the little tree rats.
I thanked both of them for a great time, a lovely place to stay. The Innkeeper handed me a Select Registry book and explained the rules... I was anxious to get on the road, so, I was distracted during her explanation. I'm not sure what the deal is, but, I think that in two more trips to one of the B&Bs in this catalog, I'm entitled to a discount or a free upgrade or something. I took the book back to my room to savor the space of my solitude for just a little while longer...
(from www.theoaksvictorianinn.com)I left behind a note for my housekeeper (who was above and beyond attentive and bothered to be friendly) as well as postcard for the Innkeepers. On my outing to the antique shop, I had found a postcard from Williamsburg, so, I wrote a little message and left it on my pillow. I scanned the room to make sure I hadn't left anything and walked out. Of course, my scan was not terribly efficient, since a minute before I hopped into the car, the lady Innkeeper came rushing out with my black lounge pants. She teased me a bit, I played along, and got in my car while tossing the pants to the backseat.
The drive back was foggy, but the clouds parted as the sun continued to rise. I was on my way to see Beth before I made the trek home. I realized that I had done the same thing at the end of my first sabbatical... seeing Beth on the way home. We met at her place and we drove into this quaint center of UVA world where there is a pod of unique restaurants and shops. We chose a little Mediterranean place with bright yellow and blue paint on the walls and a decent menu.
I so cherish my time with Beth... there's never enough of it. Even after we had finished our meals, we continued to chat, so we ordered a glass of wine to sip. We must have sat together just chatting for four or five hours. We talked about my trip, our plans for summer, the Alice movie (coming in March), the end of our book club, our writing projects, etc. The light from the windows followed a trail slightly up the walls and started to disappear before we decided we should get back to our lives.
Part of what makes Beth impossible to leave is her gift for remaining different, allowing you to be different, and making that a good thing rather than judging you. She and I have different beliefs (or, rather, she has some and I'm just me), different favorites, different philosophies, different convictions. And yet, Beth makes it a space for fascination and celebration rather than a reason to strike things off the list of what we may discuss together. Of course, we do have plenty in common, too (a love for writing, an interest in ethics, love in our friendships, close ties to our families, enthusiasm for the arts, medievalism, etc.), which just cements us together. I hated leaving her behind...
...but, boy was I wiped by the time I arrived home.
A low pressure system had set in while I was in Charlottesville and followed me all the way home, so, I was a tad uncomfortable when I walked into the apartment. Nonetheless, I kissed my cat and sat down for a quiet evening at home. I let my people know I was home (I have a short list of those who like to know I'm alive after traveling) and settled into the couch, cat on my lap, David in his recliner, and order was restored...
...though, not entirely. After the decision I made the day before, something was definitely altered from "the norm." Something about the apartment, about "home," felt more like my own. Yes, I've been living here for nearly two years now, but the "mine-ness" of things seemed enhanced... my desk, my books, my window seat... my ficus, my tea cup, my bread-maker... these were components of my life. I had just taken control of something that made all my other decisions a little more significant.
So, now what? How's the feeling been since then? I suppose I'm no longer walking on soap-bubble giddiness, and I'm still learning how to smile and laugh for no reason, but I feel better about food, surely. Though I had eaten largely vegetarian for some time before this trip, limiting my meat intake to products I could trace to ethical sources, I felt liberated from systems I'm not as yet in a position to influence.
Still, if you want to know my general stance on how most of us eat, I'd say that if we're going to be on top of the food chain due to our big brains (since few of us could hunt like a wild animal), I guess it should be incumbent upon us to use those brains and not be assholes about how we outsmart the "lesser" species. I think people (Americans with their cheeseburgers in particular) could stand to eat less meat. This would have some influence on our mass production method of treating livestock like a commodity rather than sentient beings. Some chickens spend their entire lives on a conveyor belt, never seeing the light of day. Those conveyor belt factory chickens live only 28 days, from hatch to slaughter. That, to me, is wrong, but it meets the American demand for how much meat we ingest. (My sources include Food, Inc., available on Netflix Instant Viewing, but other intriguing sources on the topic of food production include DIET FOR A SMALL PLANET by Frances Moore Lappe, and EATING ANIMALS by Jonathan Safran Foer.)
So, rather than contribute to a still flawed system, I now have hopes to work towards change in any small ways I can (signing worthy petitions, continuing to support local farmers, etc). In the meantime, I can start with how I, myself, eat food.
I will always look back on this whole trip with tremendous fondness. I miss my trainer, I long for the streets of Blacksburg and their fantastic little eateries, I am grateful to my therapist for offering me an appropriate alternative to what is painful massage for me, and I miss the mountains, the quiet, the chilled air, the serenity of the experience. I'm hoping to visit again next month... I can't go every month, naturally, but, while it's still in the realm of possibility, I'm not ruling out trips in the near future to rekindle the magic.
(PS: For you, Anya: Happy Birthday, Norman Rockwell!)
1 comment:
Norman and I love the fact that you honored his birthday! Hahahaha!
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