Friday, August 24, 2012

anthropologist

I don't think I'm here yet.



Dad's truck is still packed with the last of what in the end could only be considered junk. During times like these you can start to shake your finger at your consumerist side. It had been a while since I had taken inventory and there's nothing quite like a move to make you look at what might be worth hauling. You were here. I had a rummage sale, took truckloads of purchases to a local charity. Even went to the dump in the hopes somebody would just bury it.




It feels like jet lag, culture shock, where do I sit, do I walk in there, front porch/back porch. I have yet to unpack my skillet.





I do carry shame unwrapped 'cause there's no wrapping paper left. How could one woman and one kid collect so much? And why. Past a good night's sleep, proper food, covering up our privates with at least a banana leaf and being kind to those we meet what else are we doing? Sometimes I think we like to watch shows like hoarders so we can feel better about ourselves but we're not any better. Just doing it differently maybe.





Here's the thing.
If I had to report to you my findings in this new place where I have yet to truly settle we'd call it the early discoveries and I'd tell you there is a kind people here, always a wave, some nice smiles, a night sky with more stars than you've ever seen and families settling into Sunday lunches all over town.




The way to do fieldwork is never to come up for air until it is all over.
Margaret Mead








Today I am grateful to have a place (time to get that truck unpacked).












7 comments:

Anonymous said...

WHEW, i almost jumped, glad ur back.

Chantel said...

lol @ Anonymous!

I so know what you mean about moving--convicting beyond belief! Especially as I must confess a slight addiction to flea markets and tag sales--this week I found the most lovely oyster shaped silver bowl with dipping cup for $3.99. I could NOT resist the rescue! For that, in a nutshell, is the foundation of the madness: how could someone NOT want that?? I must give it a home...lol

I give often; releasing old favorites as presents and donations as I find new ones.

Unpacking is hell. But if you can bunker down (with a bottle or two of wine) and get it done--you will feel supremely satisfied knowing exactly where everything is! Well....for a month or two. :)

Welcome to your new home...had I the address, I'd send you a card. xo

Anonymous said...

Happy to see you made it home -slater

Nan said...

Shea, I am so thankful you are back.I have missed you greatly.Good luck on the unpacking.I love you!

Shelby said...

Hi Ms. Shea!

Shea Goff said...

BOO, Anonymous! Thank you. It's good to be back.


Chantel, DUDE. I was cleaning out a cabinet and found what could be my Great Grandmother's gravy bowl. I shall now never part with that dish. Already adding things to tote. I swear. this move is more a big box of wine, I think. thank you for the welcome! your comment is just as good as any card.


Thank you, my sweet son. Just remember home is where the heart is so you're my home as well.


Oh, Nan. I'm just glad you came with me. I could't stand life without you in it. I love you too.



Hey, sweet Shelby! You know I'm holding you responsible for getting that boy down here every once in a while, right? I always ask about you and am happy to hear you are doing good.

Shelby said...

I'll see what I can do about that Ms.Shea. :)