Chatelaine????

Among other things, a chatelaine is a mistress of a castle.  I'm sure there were stumble-y, bumble-y disorganized chatelaines.  There must have been, right???  But my image is of a competent, graceful woman bringing order and calm in an almost invisible way; the castle ran smoothly because she was there.  Leaving aside the notion that this was the only possible role for a woman of privilege in the middle ages and probably many women felt trapped (because they were trapped), I further imagine a woman who loved the role.

Her.  I want to be her.

And yet, I want more than that.  I have the opportunity and the responsibility of restoring a 130-ish year old house to be the haven I envision.  I also have the parallel opportunities of crafting the life I want: the professional life, the scholarly life, the social life, the exercise, the family life, the domestic life, the fun.....  You get the idea.  I want to use "chatelaine" as a metaphor for all the other pieces of my life.  Quiet, graceful fabulous-ness.

We are so far from that ideal.  So very, very far.

Unlikely circumstances -or certainly, unforeseen ones- brought me here.  And to be fair, I have moved through wrenching phases of grief and terror and paralysis as I adjusted to this new life situation.  I survived, when I thought I couldn't. And I can see thriving, off in the distance, beckoning.  Yet, to get from here to there, I have to dig out of some really big holes.  Surely there can be grace, even in that.

That project.... becoming the chatelaine of my whole life.... that's what I'm trying to figure out here.  Do come in.  And welcome.  Just, please, pardon the dust.