This year is my anniversary of a lot of things. Twenty years with my husband, fourty years on planet earth and ten years in France. That makes me be half a life with my man and a quarter of it living in La Douce France.
Does that make me half my husband and 25% French? I don't know. I just know that I am more "me" now than I was twenty years ago.
Moving to France was a step of Epic Proportions. Not only was there the "quitting a solid, very well earning job", a huge language barrier, to say the least, and the construction work on a 500 year old house that had been abandoned for almost fourty years.
To paint the pixels: the house had walls (very solid, 60 centimeter thick ones) and a roof. That was it. And when I say that was it, I mean that in the broadest possible meaning of the sentence.
No bedroom. No kitchen. No bathroom.
Ha! Eat this, Thoreau!
The one thing that I did have, was my husband. A whole lot of husband. As in "24-7-365" husband. And no possible way to avoid each other when doing construction work.
Oh well. We survived. As did the house. All of us came out quite a bit stronger.
While writing this, I'm soaking in my bathtub. One of the earthly pleasures I found that I could not possibly live without. Like Thoreau asked himself "what do I really need and what am I willing to pay for it?", I did too. And somehow, just somehow, enjoying a nice hot bath with fresh herbs and sea salt, doesn't feel like paying. At all.
Sacha, simply living.
Does that make me half my husband and 25% French? I don't know. I just know that I am more "me" now than I was twenty years ago.
Moving to France was a step of Epic Proportions. Not only was there the "quitting a solid, very well earning job", a huge language barrier, to say the least, and the construction work on a 500 year old house that had been abandoned for almost fourty years.
To paint the pixels: the house had walls (very solid, 60 centimeter thick ones) and a roof. That was it. And when I say that was it, I mean that in the broadest possible meaning of the sentence.
No bedroom. No kitchen. No bathroom.
Ha! Eat this, Thoreau!
The one thing that I did have, was my husband. A whole lot of husband. As in "24-7-365" husband. And no possible way to avoid each other when doing construction work.
Oh well. We survived. As did the house. All of us came out quite a bit stronger.
While writing this, I'm soaking in my bathtub. One of the earthly pleasures I found that I could not possibly live without. Like Thoreau asked himself "what do I really need and what am I willing to pay for it?", I did too. And somehow, just somehow, enjoying a nice hot bath with fresh herbs and sea salt, doesn't feel like paying. At all.
Sacha, simply living.
(this blog is cross-posted from SachaKay.com)
Love the house! Even happier that you survived it all. :)
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