Posted on 28 April 2008

This time in Montmiral – two weeks today – has been much to quick but I have done what I came to do and happy about that – if it weren’t for these damn butterflies in my stomach. Sometimes I think I am to much of a coward for this world. I take everything to heart. I found it difficult to complain to the builder about the small imperfections because he has done so much more than we expected and the house truly is magnificent. And he also did thoughtful things – like set up the beds so we would have a place to sleep when we arrived… And he is proud of his work. How can I squash him with complaints or so my reasoning goes?

And our house in Canada… why haven’t we had at least one offer? Oh there are a hundred reasonable answers but I don’t want reason, I want someone to love it and pay our price. Rob told me this weekend that he will bury a statue of Saint Joseph in the backyard. This will insure that our house sells. (What happened to my sensible man? It is strange that he is embracing superstition.)

And I’m feeling a little bad – oh I just stood and looked out on the terrace – two pigeons are kissing each other on the next roof – I’m feeling a little bad about love – not keeping up with my correspondence – because there are friends out there who I love and who I haven’t written. And I know that actions speak louder than words.

I know I worry too much… my thoughts are drifting here. I recall a coincidence – a news letter I received from “Carrie and Danielle” on Friday. (That’s another story.) And in it, they spoke of butterflies. I shall quote them:

“Embrace the jitters. Butterflies are a sign that you’re alive and expanding. If you’re not feeling the flutters it’s just not that important to you.

Every time you feel the adrenaline whirl, imagine that you have wings and breathe that rush into your spreading wingspan. Think of it this way: your nerves are reminding you that you have what it takes”

I like their positive spin. Oh if life could only be that easy.

Anyway, must pack and do the hundred little things that must be done before I leave.

Adieu Mon Amour

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