Love Story: Suzanne Hall and Joe Willis

It was December and my old Volvo needed some work. As I left it at with my mechanic, his wife introduced me to a dreamy man with a handsome old BMW. As I was leaving, I overheard her say to him, "She's nice, you should ask her out."

But nothing happened.

In January I was an usher at my church, St. James's Episcopal Church, and assigned each week to the same aisle. Every Sunday, this new dreamy visitor would come in and sit alone in the same place at the back of the church. Every Sunday, I would think of some casual thing to say after church, but he always left during the last hymn. I didn’t realize that he was in real estate and had open houses to coordinate.

Toward the end of the month he needed a date for a Saturday night ball game and couldn’t remember my name. He called the mechanic’s wife and she gave him my number. When I answered he said,” Hi, this is Joe Willis. I don’t know if you remember me.” I replied, “I’ve been taking your money every Sunday for three weeks!”

I already had plans that Saturday, but the next Sunday, I got a twenty in the collection plate!

After that, we had coffee. Next, we had lunch. And then he called to see if I wanted to “play” on Saturday. He picked me up and asked me where I’d like to go. “Let’s go find snow,” I replied. So we drove on Virginia back roads, along the Blue Ridge Park Parkway and ended up at the Peaks of Otter for a pot of tea in front a roaring fire with snow flurries outside! That lovely BMW served us well that day, although it had no heat. Fortunately, Joe had a lap robe and we forgave the mechanic. We came back through Charlottesville, had a romantic dinner and continued what our friends called the date that never ended!

Stuff

Sometimes, I feel like my stuff is a ball and chain. We have a beautiful home and lots of wonderful things from our families, as well as art, made and collected. The kitchen is full of esoteric equipment for the preparation of exotic food. Orchids, specimen plants and pots of herbs, boxwoods, hostas, elephant ears and heirloom graining fill the garden. Ours is a city house with a small front yard and a lovely oasis of a back garden, with a pond and carriage house porch. The carriage house porch has a swing and chairs and a table full of games and reading material for summer evenings.

Talk about stuff. The second floor of the carriage house stores my husband's growing habit of exterior Christmas lights and decorations (we've been tasteful long enough!) and detrius from each of our four children's childhoods and more. Blended now 12 years, we still each have boxes of stuff from former lives, and I have several looms, a spinning wheel and lots of weaving equipment that I might need, should Joe go on an odyssey, or if there's ever a grandbaby that needs a very special blankie.

My son McKendree is living at home after graduating from college. Yesterday, he began cleaning out a closet that has for years been a repository for everyone's castoffs. As a result, he lacked sufficient space for his career clothes. Scuba gear, trashbags of shoes, boxes of who knows what, all those suitcases that need to be stored somewhere. Shoe racks, down comforters, a spare dresser. Things you might need someday. Two of our daughters have been in retail, and that exponentially increases the volume of clothing that we have.

At this point, McKendree is ahead of me. My summer and winter clothes are all mixed together, since the few closets in this 105 year old house are crammed with bridesmaid's dresses, out of season clothes belonging to people not even living here, and quite a few extraordinary creations that will come in handy for Halloween, Mardi Gras, a Beaux Arts Ball or some other go to hell event.

Mama says that throwing things out is an act of faith, that more will come your way if you need it. I like her spiritual philosophy on cleaning. And she really lives it. Her closet has room between each garment, and I don't' think I've ever heard her mourn the loss of anything she's pitched. I keep thinking it might come back into fashion, but could I find it? Surely this posting will give me the extra push to dive into the chaos. Just don't let me put it all neatly in Rubbermaid containers. That's not the point.

This is Sad

My new blog. I just wrote a lovely piece about my garden, but can't seem to find it. It didn't make it to the blog and is somehow lost in the drafts folder. I'm posting this so I have something up. But it's too pretty to stay inside any longer.