A quiet Monday and a goodbye to jet lag (I hope)

A dark forest path in the neighborhood of named, non-numbered houses
(c) Christy Thomas; a dark forest path near us

Jet lag has been worse than ever. I essentially stopped sleeping until last night. My husband, on the other hand, falls asleep the moment he sits down. Anywhere. The youngest grandchild asked, “Why does JaJa fall asleep every time he sits in a chair?”

I intended to get up early and do some laundry this morning. Imagine my surprise when I looked at the clock when I finally arose: 9:30 am. I am beginning to feel human again. Thank goodness.

I know these time changes don’t bother many, but they have always bothered me despite doing all the right things: hours outside, not sleeping during the day, careful eating, minimal alcohol, etc. But perhaps, as the photo suggests, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Anyway, a domestic day here. We’re waiting on some deliveries to the house, so one of us has to be here all the time. Gene and I headed out for a walk and are now home so my d-i-l can get out to get the boys from school and pick up her parents from her sister’s house without worry of missing the delivery.

Her parents are here for about two months. They split their time between the two sisters. This type of extended stays is typical of Colombian families.

None understand why we are here only for such a few days. Having scores of family around, sharing rooms, people everywhere, extensive and ongoing cooking is far more the norm.

This fits my extroverted husband’s personality perfectly as he grew up in the midst of a large Polish/Catholic family on the East Coast. This repressed WASP has a harder time. Think, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” scenario.

My son showed the plans to enlarge the house they bought last year. At least two more bedrooms and another couple of bathrooms. It makes perfect sense for this kind of extraordinary hospitality that is entirely typical of them.

As is the case in so many English mysteries, the houses in this neighborhood have names, not numbers. And all the streets wander and curve. There is no possibility of ever walking around a block.

There are no even somewhat square blocks, much less the more normal street grids one finds in the US. And the streets change names at every intersection. It really helps to leave a trail of breadcrumbs to keep from getting lost.

Wildflower on one of the walking paths near us.
(c) Christy Thomas, Wildflower on one of the walking paths near us.

But off nearly every street, we find a public footpath into a dark forested area or into beautifully planted open fields. So very lovely. So very different. So very British.

So, after yet another beautifully cooked and overwhelmingly healthy lunch, we have a quiet house for a bit. We leave in the morning for London where we will spend tomorrow night in a lovely hotel and then . . .a coach will take us to the Southampton Port (about 90 miles south) and it is off to a Baltic Sea cruise!

Later, my friends.

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