Feeling Peeled


Now that we have only 8 more days to get it all together we’re starting to feel stressed, snappish, snarky and sometimes sullen.  Diffident, discouraged, dusty, and down in the basement more than we’d like to be.  Also peevish, petulant, and peeled raw like the bright dried favas you see before you.  There’s something about the process of turning over every single leaf in our lives, including some that should have been put in the compost heap long ago, that leaves me with a naked, picked-over feeling.

If looking at these beans gives you a yen to make homemade falafel, there’s a wonderful recipe here, but if you can find favas that are already peeled and split, do yourself a favor and get them.  Peeling away the skin isn’t difficult, but it is time consuming and tedious.

It’s a lot like what we’re going through now as we get ready to leave, opening up one thing at a time, stripping it bare, setting it down, doing it again, looking at the pile to see whether it’s getting any smaller, picking up another one and doing it all again.  In the end, I know something delicious will be the result, but right in the thick of it all sometimes it seems that all I’m getting out of the process is a lot of crud under my fingernails.

Every day we ask each other “do you still want to go?”  The answer’s always yes, but it frequently comes only after a pause and a deep breath.  Those pauses are dangerous, since during that brief moment something else might get added to the eternal list of things to do.  I’m a bean-counter from way back, and I love to cross things off the list as soon as possible.  But this last week, because there won’t be any second chances, I’m being careful to count no bean before it’s peeled.

Explore posts in the same categories: Posts Containing Recipes, The Road To France

5 Comments on “Feeling Peeled”

  1. Robin Glover Says:

    I am really loving your blog Abra…How exiting to get an insight to your experience of a lifetime…I am looking forward to following your blog for the next year. Your pictures are beautiful and your writing is captivating. As you head off to the Old World I am thankful that we have this wonderful New World Technology..

  2. Michel Says:

    Wow, only 8 days to go! You must be so excited/scared/nervous! I look forward to reading your thoughts and impressions of rural France soon.

  3. Lorna Says:

    I am thoroughly enjoying your writing, Abra.

  4. Nancy Says:

    Abra, I’ve only now learnt about this blog, and begun to read it. As with your other writing, this is luminous and a joy to read. It is also heart-wrenching, and it strikes oh, so close to home. How often have I thought that I need to weed through things NOW, to make more space in the house, before I must? Your blog – as you see I haven’t even gotten far into it – helps make that point, as did watching my parents downsize. And yet…it’ll probably take some stronger motivation than “someday I’ll have to” before I do it.

    Your leavetaking is so wrenching. I know, as someone who’s already farther into the story, that it will be well worth the pain. But it’s poignant, all the same.

    Thanks for the pointer to this blog, and thanks for your wonderful writing.


  5. […] was the agony of uprooting ourselves that I wrote about in Feeling Peeled, and the last letter from home, Sowing the Seeds of Success.  That picture, by the way, was still […]

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