The End

This is the final post I’m going to write for Temple Times.

After six-plus years, more than 350 posts, and thousands upon thousands of words, at long last we have come to the end.

All blogs eventually come to an end, after all, and the words just don’t flow any more for me here. I have aged more than six very significant years. When I started this blog I was a 33-year-old newlywed, still living in San Francisco with my husband of a few months in our first apartment together, with a troublesome rescue pup. Now I’m 40, with two homes, annual world travels, several job changes, two homes, and countless home renovation projects – all documented in detail right here – under my belt.

There are many weddings, births, and deaths chronicled here. They bring me joy and pain to revisit. And I know I’ll come here often – just not to write.

This was a document for a different time. It was a place to tell stories of new things happening in an exciting phase of firsts. But the phase of firsts is over, and I’m looking for a new format now to document different kinds of adventures, in a new phase I’ve already grown comfortable with…

Let’s call it… mid-life?

So far, I characterize this phase as one of comfort. Confidence. Quiet. I simply no longer feel the need to chronicle my life. To curate it. I think I’ll always be a person who takes photos and tells stories, but those stories are becoming more personal, more visual, more abstract – and more private.

But before I go, I’ll leave you all with a few of my favorites from these six beautiful years on Temple Times. Not-ironically, most of them are from the beginning…

••••••••••

This home ownership horror story (well, at least, the very first home ownership horror story)…

This mullet-filled homage to pre-teen friendship

This epic re-telling of our wedding day

This sad realization of my changing hometown

The day Car died. And then the day she came back from the dead

The realization I will never be over UM losing to North Carolina in the 1993 NCAA men’s basketball final…

That one time Trent thought Boston was in the Midwest

The first time I told the story of my father’s death. And probably the last time, too…

Munga’s 60th birthday trip to Sicily

My obituary for my grandmother, Lucia

When we first got intimate with the bark beetles

The trippiness of my 20-year high school reunion

That time we elected a fascist president

How I figured out I was ready to get old

My obituary for my grandfather, Sam. In two parts

My 40th birthday trip to Sicily.

••••••••••

Look for me elsewhere out on the innerwebs, friends; I’m not dead, just searching for my mid-life voice.

[[ Fin ]]

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The Great Family Vacation

I was in love with the movie “The Great Outdoors” growing up.

“How about the gourmet here?!”

It was right up there with “Vacation” in terms of how it spoke to my family’s epic DIY vacations in the 80s. While Chevy Chase’s “Clark Griswold” nailed my father so much so that we’re still calling him that, 35 years after Vacation debuted (they even looked alike, for crying out loud)… Continue reading

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Big 4-0

View on 40…

I’m 40!!!

And I love it.

I love my new age. My new “credentials”. I slipped over the hill and I just breathed a big sigh of relief…

I made it. And I have fully embraced my new identity. It feels great.  Continue reading

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1 + 1 = 7

Since I no longer have time to blog very frequently (yep, it happened, but it’s not dead yet!), it’s kind of amusing to see the large shifts in topic and mood between my posts now.

The last blog I wrote was about my long and violent saga exterminating rat(s) in our basement (attic?). Since then, I just haven’t felt moved enough to start typing again. I mean, what in my life these days can compete with the drama of outsmarting vermin on my own turf?

Until today…

Because earlier this week it was my seven year wedding anniversaryOur seven year wedding anniversary:

❤ !!!

Yes, my darling – I feel at least as passionately about you as I feel about RATS.

JUST KIDDING!

Anyone who’s been around me for a hot second lately knows that I’m more in love with my husband than ever. Bordering on co-dependent (I admit it). This “childfree” decision thing seems to have mind-melded us; cemented us even closer than I thought possible…

While it’s true that some of my passion for past loves (like writing) has waned, I’ve leaned harder into my marriage. And I’m not sorry about that at all.

And interestingly enough, also this week I met an inspiring woman in person whom I’ve been corresponding with for a while now; I’ve begun to look up to her and the work she does and have even started to reimagine my own future as a result. She suggested I take a “thinking talents” assessment to hone in on where my natural abilities and passions lie. So I did:

My thinking talents.

Enchanted by how spot on this felt, I asked my dear husband to do the same…

Trent’s thinking talents.

And I just had to smile at what a perfect yin and yang emerged in these two skillsets; so much harmony, but also so much difference. A beautiful balance.

Our love definitely lies in things like our humor and our ability to feel deeply for others. But we are so different as well, in how we drive each other forward (me for Trent) and buoy each other up (Trent for me) when we’ve taken too much on and need to be reminded of the here and now. I see so clearly how my analytical mind supports Trent’s enlessly innovative mind (the source of his creativity, I suppose).

The science of love. 1 + 1 = 7 years.

Plus 50 more = lovers at 90!

Maybe?

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(D)Rats

It pains me to record this story, but…

We had a rat at 3675.

Being the clean freak that I am, “rats” aren’t something I ever imagined I’d personally ever encounter, in MY home. Even as it sits on the precipice of its centennial birthday, with its dirt-floor crawlspace and steamy attic, right in the middle of the crowded Bay Area, overrun with urban wildlife feasting on the local and sustainable bounty of year-round backyard gardens…

My home is (or was, in my mind) an air-tight rodent fortress.

I’m only mildly comforted, still, by the fact that rats can be found in one-third of all homes in America. Like, barely comforted. 3675 had to be a 2 or a 3 – so clean you can eat off the floor in every room, inspected top to bottom inside and out on the first each month for signs of so much as a hairline crack

But alas, I saw the rat. It ran RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE – I kid you not, I felt a breeze – while I examined what I thought had to be a harmless little mouse dropping in the basement behind the washing machine.

I’ll never feel the same about what lies beyond this door…

Mice, by the way, are NOT THE SAME AS RATS. Mice are tiny – cute, even. I’ve encountered plenty of mice before: in my office while working late, in our woodpile at our mountain home…

Rats: they are not cute. Continue reading

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