I’m free. For two luscious weeks. My grading for this term is done. My students are no longer mine… and for the next two weeks, until it begins all over again, I do not have to think too much about school.

Now, I can think about you…

Just you… and a little school. (Teachers are always learning new ways to enhance the learning experience. Teaching, after all, is learning.)

I confess, I have not been keeping up with life at Psych Central. Please forgive me. Quite honestly, I haven’t been keeping up with anything or anyone.

Hi, there ~

I hope this post finds all of you coping reasonably well.

End of summer can be a little depressing sometimes.

Solidly, for the last week and until next Monday, August 23, I have been and will be consumed with my “other” life as a college teacher.

It’s end of term. Grading papers is weighing me down.

I taught all summer…

So, I’m overwhelmed not only with unpacking, which is endless, but readying myself for the next term. This has been a summer of stress, resilience, adjustment and positive thinking ~ I made gallons and gallons of lemonade.

And now, grading…

It was a grey, humid, rainy morning in my new neighbourhood and psychoanalysis was on my mind.

Among other things.

Why psychoanalysis? Simple. I spent 40 minutes reading Daphne Merkin‘s engaging lead New York Times magazine feature on her 40 years in psychoanalysis.

I’ve been in psychotherapy for 50 years.

We were both considered “difficult” children…

There is no comparison, though…

Daphne and I have some strong similarities. We’re both writers. Both Jewish. Though I was not raised in an Orthodox home. We both were considered “difficult” children. She was sent to her first psychiatrist at age 10. I was 12. But she went the psychoanalytic route. I did not.

Marty and I had quite a few surprises and challenges just before we moved, while some work was being done here.

A gas leak nearly did me in…

All work being done on the house that day had to abruptly stop.

Three people were here.

We all became nauseous…

Until the problem was fixed, they had to leave. I remained. Alone. The main electrical breaker of the house had to be turned off. It was 90 degrees that day.

Yet, wondrous, serendipitious things happened, too…

My trusted licensed natural gas/propane expert, Wayne Zwarych of Earth Energy Systems, came to the rescue.

He has taken care of me and my gas Sobies BBQ for 10 years. He’s never let me down. That day, were it not for Wayne, I don’t know what would have happened. He saved the day, called the gas company, found out where the problem lay when the Inspector could not and insisted (to this Inspector’s supervisor) that my faulty gas valve be replaced. Why am I so lucky?

When did I last post to you?

Do you remember? I don’t. It seems like a lifetime ago.

It was a lifetime ago and all along…

You were in my thoughts, buoying me on with your support…

Now, here I am. In our new house ~ built in 1971 and sadly neglected. A townhouse, in a tiny suburban condominium of only 58 units. Less than 1.2 miles from our “other” house. The house I thought was our “dream” house, but you know what? Dreams change. They’re complex, mentally and emotionally. They morph into new dreams and this little townhouse may well turn out be my real dream house. I can’t believe it. Every day, we’re working relentlessly to make this house ours.

Despite the chaos…

We moved in on July 26. Eleven days ago. We’re living amidst unopened boxes, dust, crates of art against the walls, knob-less doors (all were covered in paint and we removed them) and endless revelations we finding ~ imperfections, signs that previous owners did not respect the integrity of this darling little house ~ and all the work that cries to be done if only we could afford to do it. But, it will take time. I’m learning patience. And I’m so happy here ~ because it’s a community…