Conjuring Dreams and Nightmares

October 9, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

I have not been sleeping well lately, you guys. Since mid-July, when I decided to leave my full-time job, I have been working on a novel. Before I started working on it, I felt a little lost and unfulfilled by my career and was questioning my self-worth too often, pulling up little to satisfy the cavity of what I had to show for my contributions to the world, thus far. I craved a sense of fulfillment that I could actualize and needed to pursue an activity at full-steam that would make me feel like myself again.

My stock on happiness and self-worth had dwindled below the recommended reserve and I felt disappointed in myself for not nurturing my creative strengths, for so long. Even if this novel doesn’t end up making a single penny and even if it is rejected by publishers, it will have been worth the time for what I have gained in self-discovery. I feel like me again, and it’s taken a long time, but for the first time since college, I feel like a writer again. Writing a book has been a dream of mine since I was a kid and now, it is one that I am determined to make a reality with this new project.

When I started working on this novel in July, I had no idea how long it would take to finish a first draft. To be honest, I had little confidence that I’d even be able to do it and worried that the initial excitement of the process would wear off. My mantra became Jodi Picoult’s wise quote, “You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page,” so I wrote some bad pages to start and then they morphed into a plottable base for a story and a set of characters whom I have grown to love.

As I got to writing, the confidence in my ability to accomplish the task at hand began to grow. I began reading about other successful writers’ routines and habits and was able to ballpark a timeline for when I could likely have a first draft finished. In September, I set a deadline of October 17th for my first draft. Now that that deadline is just around the corner, I am not as afraid of it as I thought I’d be. I have been diving deeper into the world that I have spent the past three months creating and that world is growing more developed each day. So far, it has been a passion project not without its difficulties – both creatively and psychologically.

I like to write mystery. If you’ve every read a mystery, you’ll know that the genre requires some shady characters. I have been putting off writing the details to the darker side of my story for a while, but last week, I finally plunged down the rabbit hole of researching and writing them and have yet to come out the other side.

I have learned that I have two designated writing spaces in our home. One is the chaise seat of our blue couch, where I am writing this now, and the other is at my desk that I also use as a nightstand. I think the concept of a designated writing space can come in handy when working on building a villain’s story arc, however, I think I used the wrong one when constructing mine.

Writing a villainous story arc at my desk right next to where I sleep was not a wise idea. It is hard to sleep easy where you have created a monster. When I close my eyes at night, the stories I have read for research come to mind and the stories that I have created join them, invading the counting sheep’s pasture with dark clouds and ominous sounds, causing them to flee because they too can sense that something bad is lurking there. I get through the battle of sleep, on edge from the start, wondering what evil awaits me in my REM cycle, and let me tell you, it has been pretty creative, you guys.

I’ve always had a talent for being easily frightened. Pair that with a fear of the dark and terrible vision and voila!; you’ve got yourself a bedroom stalker that is actually just a table with a fan on top of it. While I, without my glasses on, am the most likely thing to go bump in the night, my imagination plays tricks on me with evils that aren’t there, conjured from harmless shadows, shapes, and light.

Coffee probably doesn’t help either. Some days, I can’t seem to write a word without coffee so I have coffee and then I have some more to keep going. Something that used to be a slow, enjoyable part of my morning routine has become a crutch for putting words on the page, but I think I’d like for coffee to go back to being a moderated morning indulgence to simply enjoy as I wake up. Writing anxiety-inducing story arcs on two cups of coffee isn’t a blend that hits the spot. For my writing sessions, I think I’ll switch to herbal tea and see if a sense of calm comes easier when it’s time to sleep.

Either way, I think the sense of accomplishment of finishing a first draft will be worth the sleepless nights and that perhaps I could use some toughening up anyway for the rewrite road ahead. But now, it’s that time in the day to close my laptop and take in the ocean view and a few sips of chamomile and honey to help guide me back from the winding depths of Wonderland.

Saratoga in the Off-Season

October 2, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

Last weekend, our schedule (and our little car) swept us away to Saratoga Springs, NY for a getaway with Mike’s siblings. Saratoga in the off-season is one of my happy places. I enjoy strolling up and down Broadway and perusing the shop windows and the architecture of the beautiful buildings that line the main street in town. We treated ourselves to coffee and pastries at Sweet Mimi’s and Putnam Market in the mornings, feasted on hearty meals at a few local establishments that I will go into further detail on later, and ended our nights with ice cream and fudge at Kilwins.

Northshire Bookstore called my name the whole drive up and walking into the expansive shop felt like a warm hug from an old friend. I warned the group that I would be spending a while in there and that they should feel free to continue on without me if they wanted, but sure enough, the store had something to capture everyone’s interest. I lingered around the stationary section, knowing full-well that my stationary drawer at home was well-stocked already. I just can’t help myself. Maybe it’s a writer thing, but pretty paper that I can write on is so enticing to me. I practiced restraint and reminded myself that I can enjoy the idea of stationary without buying it and bringing it home. I eyed a few Lang Folk Art Calendars that I begrudgingly accepted I didn’t need and continued on to the puzzle section, where my sense of self-control abandoned me immediately at the sight of the selection before me.

Northshire Bookstore is well-stocked with puzzles from my favorite puzzle company, Ravensburger. Ravensburger puzzles are reliable in that the pieces are actually uniquely distinct, unlike some other puzzle company products where you can’t always be sure that you have a piece in the right spot, by fit alone. Ravensburger claims “softclick technology” and they claim correctly, in my opinion as a frequent puzzler. I purchased a 1000-piece Ravensburger puzzle entitled Welcome to Banff, proud that I was able to limit myself to only one and, my friends, I can’t wait to get my hands on those blue-backed pieces once I reach a big writing milestone that is fast approaching, but more on that later this month.

Saratoga in the off-season is the town at rest after a summer of crowds flocking to its boundaries to bathe in the famed spring water spas and attend the horse races at the historic Saratoga Race Course. When we were there, the race track and baths were closed for the season and a faint chill tinged the air, floating in on a breeze from somewhere up north.

Our Airbnb sat nestled on a side street off Congress Park, opposite the park from Broadway. The house was a cozy split-level with three comfortable bedrooms and a spacious living and kitchen area. We spent our downtime watching movies and playing games in the living room, which had an unlit fireplace and a wall of white-washed, built-in shelves and we put together a 1000-piece puzzle, depicting four National Parks, in the kitchen. We snacked on takeaway treats from Sweet Mimi’s, Putnam Market, and Kilwins and sipped on the pomegranate elixir that is Saratoga Red from the Saratoga Winery.

We cut through Congress Park multiple times to go between our cozy homebase and downtown, careful not to disturb the flock of sleepy ducks that had taken up residence at a pond there. We strolled along the paved path, enjoying the views of a couple of the famed springs that had been enshrined beneath ornate pavilions by their benefactors and encrusted with orange and white mineral deposits from the ever-flowing sulfuric trickling. I much preferred the park in the daytime, but the eerie glow from the street lamps along the path at night did usher me into the fall spirit quickly. Fall spirit aside, I was happy to be walking in a group on those nighttime strolls.

We spent our evenings seeking out hearty meals and drinks at Whitman Brewing Company, Boca Bistro, and The Olde Bryan Inn, the last of which gave me the sense of walking into an American version of the cozy Hogsmeade locale, The Three Broomsticks, from the Harry Potter series.

The Olde Bryan Inn, constructed in 1832, is a tavern located on the site of Alexander Bryan’s former log cabin establishment, est. 1773. Waiting outside the stone tavern for our table to be ready, we caught glimpses of the comfortable environs within. The light glowed warm from the burgundy beam-framed windows and illuminated a first glimpse of the wooden beams and overused colonial pots and pans displayed within on the wooden walls.

Walking through the narrow entrance of the tavern, we passed the pub area, a cozy snug with a dark, wood-beamed ceiling and pewter steins hanging from their handles over the broad wooden bar. The sight made me want to order a Butterbeer, but instead I made my selection from the available, muggle offerings and opted for an apple cider mule and a roasted turkey dinner. The evening was a delight filled with lively conversation and delicious food and drink. The Hermione Granger that lives in me was satisfied.

While in town, we were sure to visit Saratoga Spa State Park, where my sister in law was determined to sample some of the springs. For all but one, we anticipated and were met with the telltale pucker that resulted from the taste and texture of the mineral deposit-laden spring water, which is said to relieve gastrointestinal ailments, if ingested, and to soften the skin, if bathed in. Needless to say, she spat the water out, although she did find one spring with a genuinely delicious output, the State Seal Spring. The water at the State Seal Spring was good, but sampling it required interrupting the constant flow of people filling 5-gallon water cooler jugs with the good stuff. Some people just can’t get enough of it, I guess.

At the end of the weekend, we said our goodbyes and departed for home, going our separate ways and looking forward to our next adventure together, wherever it may take us. A year of time and some pleasant hours of planning are all that separate us from that next reunion and I know it will be a match for how lovely this one was.

Travel

Home is Where the Dish Towel is

September 23, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries3 Comments

Family gatherings have recently swept us up and away on some travels and we feel fortunate to follow where they lead. I am getting more used to sleeping away from home, but am always prepared to tote along a few comforts to bring some home with me wherever we go.

I have often been made fun of when I reveal that I pack one item in particular that others would definitely deem unnecessary, but which has become a necessity for me. Each night when I go to sleep, I lay my head down on a pillow that is blanketed by a Williams-Sonoma dish towel. This habit, born from a practical function of going to sleep right after showering has since become routine regardless of how damp my hair is. It has also garnered many laughs and possibly some judgement when I tell people that I do this. I know you are probably coming to terms with the possibility that I might be a little crazy now too. It’s ok. I’m used to it. I don’t really know why, but I sleep better when there is a dish towel on my pillow, so there is almost always one there.

My travel comforts also include a pair of washable slippers and 3oz bottles of my own body wash and shampoo/conditioner. I have found that hotel-provided toiletries sometimes leave a residue on my skin that I’m not particularly fond of, so I always bring my own. Using my own bath products makes me feel and smell more like myself and as a result, makes me feel more at home. As for the slippers, I prefer to have an extra layer between my feet and the mysteries that lay embedded in the dark, patterned, wall to wall carpeting found in many hotel rooms.

A habit that I have adopted from having friends and family who also travel frequently is to stick with a preferred group of hotels, when possible. My own preference is to stay at Hilton hotels and I even decided to join their loyalty program and apply for their Amex card back in 2019. Having a preferred hotel group takes a lot of the decision fatigue out of trip planning and can also save you money on future trips. I have earned many points since first getting the card in 2019 and have even been able to redeem them for at least a few nights of stays, all just by paying for hotel stays on our other trips or by using my card to purchase things such as groceries or gas. It feels pretty magical when I have enough points to have a free night’s stay.

Another benefit to staying in preferred hotels is the aspect of familiarity you can expect when you check in and enter your room. As a Hilton Honors member, I have become very familiar with the booking, cancellation, and check-in processes and take comfort in knowing what to expect when I book and when I arrive. I know that the hotel will give me two bottles of water at check-in and how to access the Wi-Fi every time. These are little things that go a long way and help me to feel settled and relaxed while away from home.

When away from home, I always set up my nightstand the same way as I do at home. I make sure to have my glasses, water, lip balm, lotion, phone, and phone charger right next to me because my eyesight is pretty poor and stumbling around in the night trying to find these items could be bruise-inducing.

When packing, I opt for packing cubes to help stay organized and these accessories have come to serve a similar function to my dresser drawers at home. The cubes are different sizes and I know what I have packed in each of them so it is easy to find each component of an outfit that I plan to wear. I find that packing light and having a plan or itinerary for what to do each day helps to dress appropriately and the packing cubes just speed up the process even more.

In keeping with this theme of organization, I pretty much have one warm weather and one cold weather packing list and pack mostly the same clothes no matter how many trips I take in each of these climates. For example, on a trip we took to Italy back in May, I packed many of the same items that I took on our recent trip to California. I don’t mind being an outfit repeater and am almost always an outfit repeater on longer trips because I prefer to pack carry-on only.

While I know some of my habits may seem weird to others, I am of the opinion that as long as you are not harming or offending anyone, do whatever you must to carry comfort with you as long as it packs small enough to fit in your carry-on or personal item. If you have habits that make you feel more at home while you are traveling, I would love to hear them in the comments. Thanks for reading and cozy travels everyone! 🙂

Cozy Posts

Morning Pumpkins!

September 9, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries1 Comment

Good morning friends! I am waking up slowly this morning with some breakfast and coffee. The plan is to just have a lazy weekend since the next few weekends are going to be busy. I am thinking we might do a puzzle and go for a walk, but any ambitions beyond those are yet to be named, or not be named.

While there is a little bit of summer left, I am starting to feel ready for fall and have been eyeing the weather each morning in hopes of some version of chilly at some point in the day, with no luck yet. My sweaters are still folded in my seasonal clothing bin in the closet but they have been looking at me through the clear plastic each time I go to pull a sleeveless top off a hanger. I see you sweaters and we will be together again soon, but right now, it’s just too hot.

Fall can be a tempting shopping season, especially if you are a person who loves to wear sweaters or are cozy-obsessed (like me!) and I find storing seasonal items away can help them feel almost new when it’s actually weather-appropriate to wear those items or seasonally appropriate to display them around your home. These days, fall advertising begins in July and bombards our attention through November, overlapping with Christmas starting in October and sometimes even earlier.

Seeing fall items on display in stores or in digital ads entices us to fill our homes with earthy tones and orange pillows and blankets and put pumpkin-inspired everything everywhere from inside to outside to in our coffee cups. From interior décor to exterior décor to Halloween costumes to specialty seasonal drinks, it’s hard not to lose some pretty pennies to the season in the process of cozifying.

When we lived in New York, I didn’t have specific fall décor. Our whole apartment was aesthetically warm and decorated with rich colors, cozy lighting, and a long red brick wall. It looked ready for fall more than it did any other season all year round, so there was just no need for additional décor.

When we moved to the shore and switched out our red brick wall for light tan ones, our railroad layout for a wide open space twice the size, and our view of the building across Union Avenue for a view of the Atlantic Ocean, summer took over the interior design scheme. When fall rolled around, I was tempted to put pumpkin things in my home. Our full collection of designated fall décor fits in a shoebox on the top shelf of the linen closet and consists of two small wooden pumpkins and one little fabric one that I thrifted, two hand-crocheted pumpkins – one my friend from work gave me and one my cousin made with my late Nana’s yarn, and a cozy fall candle that another cousin gifted to me for my birthday last year.

*All but the candle, which I think may be hiding in with the Christmas stuff*

Keeping seasonal and holiday décor manageable can be difficult and keeping it minimal can be even harder. Though we only have a small amount of fall items, they give our living space that seasonal oomph needed to get me in the cozy spirit. Our fall display, if you could even call it that, doesn’t extend beyond the living room, but for me, that’s enough, and the fact that it takes about five minutes to set up and put away is something I’m very happy with.

I prefer to bring fall into our house with baked goods, hearty meals, and October beers or to get outside wrapped up in a sweater to enjoy the crisp weather and abounding seasonal activities in the Northeast. Fall is also the season where my Harry Potter obsession shows in a big way and while Mike would prefer to not watch Harry Potter movies or do Harry Potter puzzles, he’s a good sport about it, but I’ll save that obsession for another post.

Now it’s time to choose a summery puzzle and let you all get on with your weekend. Thanks for reading and hope that wherever you are, you are able to add a little bit of cozy to your day!

Cozy Posts · Travel

Bonjour, hello!

August 28, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries2 Comments

During the early days of the pandemic, I missed travel intensely. I grew stir crazy in our home and craved to be transported to places outside our walls. The uncertainty about if that would ever happen again just made me crave adventure even more. Without a vaccine on the horizon and since traveling anywhere beyond the front door risked exposure to Covid-19, we stayed inside our home as much as possible, unless it was necessary to go outside.

The first virtual walking tour video that I watched on YouTube during the pandemic was of London’s West End in the rain. It was refreshing to see a landscape that was new to me and to hear the sounds of a city again, albeit subdued, and to hear the patter of the rain on the sidewalks and streets. Everything shone in the water and the light and I “walked” around London for a while.

My favorite walking tour video that I came across since then was of a snowy walk through Québec City at night. This is a video that I will still just put on in the background sometimes and Mike and I have nicknamed it “The Montreal Crunch Crunch” because I kept accidentally thinking it was Montreal and the “crunch crunch” comes from the sound of the videographer’s boots in the snow. The video takes you on a tour of Vieux Québec and slightly beyond the neighborhood’s borders around Christmastime. When I first watched it, I made a mug of hot cocoa and got cozy on the couch on a gray day and it was just exactly the right thing to do. I wandered the winding streets of the old stone city, climbing stairs and inclines in the snow, and my teeth didn’t even chatter once!

A year ago, Mike and I got to experience Québec City in person and though it was devoid of snow in August, it was no less magical. We stayed at the coziest hotel, Hôtel du Vieux-Québec. When researching this hotel, I was drawn to the sturdy, gray, stone walls and liked the idea of sleeping soundly in a fortress of coziness. Some rooms had fireplaces for that added layer of warmth, but we didn’t need that in the summertime so we opted for a more basic room. Each morning of our stay, we woke to a wicker picnic basket hooked on our door, filled with freshly baked croissants, fresh fruit, and freshly squeezed orange juice. We’d eat at the little table by the window that looked out over the side alley and then prepare to start our day of wandering the old city.

Vieux Québec, or Old Québec, is a multi-level city with an “upper” and “lower” town and quite a few steep inclines and staircases between them, but even if you are not comfortable with such terrain, there is a funicular cable car that goes between the terrace of the impressive Fairmont Le Château Frontenac down to lower Vieux Québec and vice versa for a small price. We did not end up riding the funicular, but let’s just say everyday of our trip was leg day.

Having watched the virtual walking tour of Québec so many times, I felt familiar with the geography of the upper and lower towns, but did get thrown off by a few twists and turns. We really enjoyed wandering around the city and to Mike’s annoyance, I found myself frequently stopping to photograph buildings and murals. We stopped into many of the cozy bars and restaurants and ate hearty meals and beaver tails and decided our favorite place was Resto-Pub Q-de-Sac. We enjoyed sitting at the bar, sipping on Boréale Rousse, a delicious Québec brewed amber ale, and snacking on cheese encrusted soupe a l’oignon (onion soup). Inside, the pub was reminiscent of a cozy chalet and I can only imagine what a respite it would be from icy cold evenings in the winter.

We are hoping to go back in the winter sometime to see the city under a blanket of sparkling snow, but before doing so, I learned that I really should brush up on my French which has been rusting over for fourteen years- sacré bleu! Mike and I made a rule that because my French was too rusty to be conversational and Mike does not speak more than a few words, we would walk into restaurants and say “Bonjour, hello” to the proprietor or the host to make them aware from the get go of how poor our handle of the language was. Having taken French for years in middle school and high school, it was definitely embarrassing to not have the confidence to carry out a two way conversation. I found I would ask a question or order in French, but I did not have a strong ear for a local’s fluent response and would get very flustered and turn into a Jersey tomato in the headlights immediately.

“Bonjour, hello” was necessary for us in making our way around the city, where the local language is French. The locals were very friendly and patient with us for which I am so thankful, but I am going to try to get a handle on French again, at least to the point where next time we go, I will have the confidence to have a basic conversation, check into a hotel, or order a meal.

If you enjoyed this post or are interested in reading more about travel, check out my friend Katherine’s new blog, Dear Jane Travel. And until my next post, au revoir, goodbye!

Health & Lifestyle · Movies · Nostalgic Posts · Reviews & Reflections

Empty Venues

August 21, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries5 Comments

When I was fifteen, I had the honor of being invited to attend my twin friends’ extravagant sixteenth birthday celebration in New York City. My friends had chosen to take a group of us out to a nice dinner and a Broadway show and afterwards, we all had a slumber party at the Waldorf Astoria. We snacked on decadent Godiva, chocolate-covered strawberries and Twizzlers from Walgreens and once we were all sugared up, we wandered the halls of the historic hotel in search of adventure, movie filming locations, and a ghost girl with a red balloon.

We never did find the ghost girl, but we rode the elevators like John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale in Serendipity (2001) and roamed the glamorous lobby in our hotel slippers and pajamas. I remember wandering into the empty Grand Ballroom, a cavernous hall with box seating all around the walls and a massive, glittering, chandelier overhead, illuminating the room in a dimmed glow.

We walked up onto the stage and looked out at the room, each with a feeling that it was exactly where we were all supposed to be at that exact moment in time. Aside from the Waldorf already having established itself for its serendipitous traits in Peter Chelsom and Marc Klein’s movie, it was something else to feel it for ourselves.

We looked out at the spotless ballroom, the banquet tables and chairs stored away in some closet or basement, the red patterned carpet – vacuumed, and the wooden dance floor – waxed and shining. We were the only things in the room to fill the space, a group of teenaged girls, our souls and energy so immense in the company of each other that the wallpapered walls and towering ceiling could hardly contain us.

I feel very alive in an empty venue. Perhaps it is the minimalist in me or perhaps the possibility that empty venues hold or once held. More likely, it is my love of Cameron Crowe’s movies and the impact they had on my adolescence, namely Almost Famous (2000) and Elizabethtown (2005).

Cameron Crowe has a talent for creating flawed, loveable, relatable characters and for developing relationships between them. He is also able to give empty venues as much life as full ones. His movies push me out to the stars and bring me safely back to the ground with each watch.

My favorite scene in Almost Famous depicts Kate Hudson’s character, Penny Lane, dancing around the floor of an empty concert venue after a Stillwater show has ended. The scene is set to Cat Stevens’ The Wind and captures the sense of clinging to something special extra hard when you don’t want it to end and the melancholy of accepting the fleeting nature of the experience once it’s over. The stage lights glow golden on the wooden floor as Penny slides around the venue alone, balancing on discarded cocktail napkins, while gracefully swinging a single rose around in her hand. It is beautiful, hopeful, and heartbreaking all at once and it reminds me that great experiences would not be so great if they were not so fleeting. Loss is a necessary evil of life. Without it, life’s experiences would hold no weight and coping with it is the first step back to joy.

Crowe’s Elizabethtown illustrates this cyclical concept well. There are two scenes in the movie that depict a hotel banquet hall. There is one in which the room is full of people for a very epic memorial service, courtesy of Susan Sarandon’s exceptional acting skills, Crowe’s incredible writing, and a rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Free Bird that is literally on fire. There is another in which the banquet hall is empty aside from the main characters, Drew (Orlando Bloom), Claire (Kirsten Dunst), and a cremated Mitch, Drew’s late father, in his urn. The scene with fewer characters has just as much energy and tension as the scene with a crowd and I feel Claire’s apprehension, brevity, and excitement as she marches up to the podium and announces to Drew, “IIIII LIIIKE YOU!” through the echoing microphone, with only a cremated Mitch for an audience. There is so much life in the scene despite the obvious presence of death in the movie and the slow build of the characters falling in love without recognizing it in real time, amid a period of loss, makes my heart swell every time.

I did theater in high school and college and it was always bittersweet to end a show. On one hand, I’d have free time again and on the other, it made me sad to help break down something that I had devoted so much energy to for months, from auditions to strike.

I think I love being in a theater more than I like being onstage. On stage, there is nowhere to hide and it is hot and harrowing under the bright lights. The darkness and secretiveness of the wings and the catwalks were always my favorite parts of participating in shows – the anticipation and the adventure, the whispers, the intense listening for cues through heavy curtain legs, and the intimacy, trust and speed of a quick change or stage transition. In theater, working together makes these changes so much smoother. Theater is art imitating life but it is also so much life behind the scenes. It transforms empty venues to alternate realities and puts them back to their original state afterwards almost as though nothing ever happened.

I have spent many moments in empty venues and have come to realize that in those moments, they are not really empty at all. One person can fill a space with their voice, a dance, silence, love, or even just with their imagination. There is possibility resting in the dimmed lights and the energy of past moments seeps into the floors, hangs on the walls and curtains, and tarnishes the fixtures. Like Stevens and his music, I let these moments take me where my heart wants to go. And even when the time comes to move on, I do not waste it on regret or disappointment, and instead prefer to anticipate what lies ahead.

Health & Lifestyle · Mental Health · Minimalism

The Bully in your Closet

August 12, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries1 Comment

Growing up, I often had negative perceptions about my body and it took me a really long time to love the way that I look. I hate to admit it, but I still have negative body image perceptions sometimes, though much less frequently. An unexpected side effect of creating a more minimalist wardrobe was learning how to identify some of the triggers for these negative thoughts.

One of my big triggers is aspirational clothing lurking in my dresser or closet – those jeans that fit perfectly everywhere but are so tight in the waist that they inhibit digestion, that blouse that gaps in the front no matter how I safety pin it, or the halter dress that highlights my armpit squishies. I find myself thinking, if I only lost some weight, I could fit into these items comfortably and if I can fit into these items comfortably, then I will be beautiful; I will be enough.

What I have found the truth to be is that when I have lost the weight to be able to fit into aspirational clothing, it has only lasted temporarily and that for that temporary duration, I have been in a state of perpetual hangriness. Starving your way to aspirational clothing also means that all of your other clothes that you wear often and that make you feel good and beautiful would then be too big. Why sacrifice feeling good in a majority of your wardrobe just to feel good in a couple of items that drained so much of your self-worth for so long? Get those items out of sight. The trade off makes no sense to me now and I only wish I had realized it sooner.

When I come across aspirational clothing in my closet, it takes guts to confront the bully hidden in the waistline, zipper, or buttons down the front. I find that I allow my aspirational clothing to put me down for a while before I even notice that it is draining positivity from my daily routine of getting dressed. Once I realize, I work past the guilt of the purchase or the time that it has spent in my dresser or closet, and recognize that I have learned a valuable lesson from it about what does not support my body and mindset well. Then, I confront the item and the emotions attached and oust it to the donation pile. Good riddance!

As a teenager, cultural representations of beauty really fucked with my self esteem. I used to collect Vogue magazine and thought that being beautiful meant being stick thin. My body doesn’t get stick thin. I’m not proud to say it, but I tried very hard to test and disprove this theory. I remember an influential quote of Kate Moss’ from when I was a teenager, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” and now, to that, I say, have you tried the Lindt 78% dark chocolate yet? It tastes better than skinny feels, to me.

I started learning to love my body in college when I was studying art. I took a life drawing class my senior year which involved drawing nude models. These models came in all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, and genders. At the end of class, we would walk around the studio to look at the interpretations of the model and it was fascinating to see the variance in the drawings from easel to easel.

Some students drew the models with ideal proportions and some drawings were more abstract, despite us all having learned how to establish proportions and perspective from life to paper. I learned to see the human body as marks on paper, as shapes, shadow, light, and negative space. Even more fascinating was how most of the models seemed completely comfortable wearing nothing, standing on a platform in the middle of a circle of easels and watchful eyes. There was no judgement in the art studio. There simply was no time for it when the professor quickly increased the time of the different poses from thirty-seconds to two-minutes to ten-minutes and on to twenty. The body became scratches of charcoal or pencil on paper and together, those scratches created something beautiful and unique.

My pared down wardrobe has taught me what I enjoy wearing and how my clothes can impact my mood and mental health. When I open my closet, I see color, texture, patterns, prints, and shine. I smile when I get dressed in the morning because I know that my closet it mostly full of clothes that support me in being the best version of myself for whatever that means today. And when I come across something that does not serve that basic function, I thank it for the lesson and say goodbye.

There is no perfect body type. Beauty comes in an endless variety of forms and your form is included in that spectrum; I am absolutely certain of this. If you are struggling with negative body image, you are not alone, and it can feel impossible to feel like you are beautiful and enough, but know that you are. It is difficult to accept others telling you that you are beautiful until you are able to embrace it yourself.

Aim to be healthy, not just measured by a number on a scale, but in a way that supports your mental health too. And for the love of all that is good in this world, do it for yourself and your loved ones and try not to let the bullies of social media, pop-culture, or your aspirational clothing dictate what is enough.

Travel

On Post-Travel Winding Down, Escaping from Rome, and Carrying On

July 31, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

We recently returned from vacation in Florida with Mike’s family, and while I am going to miss the beautiful, emerald waters and white sand of Miramar Beach, I’ve got to say that I am happy to be home.

Being able to get back into a routine and feel settled is always a reward after a long trip or travel day and this return was no different. We walked into the condo on Saturday night, left our carry-on suitcases and personal items by our entry area, and sat down on the blue couch to wind down from our journey.

Prior to leaving for a trip, we always try to leave our home somewhat neat so that it is pleasant to walk into upon returning. When dishes and laundry are done and put away and the clothes we left behind are tucked away where they belong, it makes the task of unpacking much more enjoyable. I usually unpack either right away or the morning after returning, putting clean clothes in the dresser and closet, laundry in the hamper, toiletries in the bathroom, and shoes on the shoe rack. I tuck my green, Away Carry-On suitcase, with the matching packing cubes inside, in the bedroom closet where it lives and hang my black, Marmot backpack up in the entryway closet.

I actually enjoy unpacking and as Mike could happily live out of an open suitcase on the living room floor for a week, I usually unpack for him as well because it makes me feel more calm and settled. Everything in our home has a place and that makes it easy to restore our home to its usual state after traveling and to rejuvenate for everyday life. And when those spaces become too full, it is our reminder to re-evaluate our stuff and declutter, if needed.

Growing up, my family did not travel a lot and the travel bug didn’t bite me until I was twenty-one, soon after I had moved to Brooklyn. For our first few trips, Mike and I traveled with a large, checked suitcase that we would borrow from Mike’s mom. It was bulky and difficult to lug to the airport on public transportation. When I first became interested in minimalism after watching Matt D’Avella’s documentary Minimalism: A Documentary About the Important Things, I wanted to approach the challenge of living light while traveling by packing carry-on only for a trip.

Our first experience traveling carry-on only for a long trip came in September 2017. We were headed to Rome, Florence, and the Amalfi Coast for ten days and after researching our destinations and the plentiful cobblestones and stairs there, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to test out our goal. I used what have become some of my staple travel bags for this trip: my ebags Mother Load Jr. Backpack and my Red House Vermont Waxed Canvas Book Bag Crossbody. I cannot tell you how many people I have recommended these bags to because I have lost track, and while they have jumped in price a bit, I still highly recommend both for functionality and durability in packing light. (Red House even offers discounts for new email subscribers if anyone is interested.)

For our 2017 Italy trip, carry-on only worked well for us and even came in more than handy, and potentially life saving, when we found ourselves trapped on the interior steps of our Airbnb in Rome, separated from the exit door by a tall, black, iron gate. We had a Frecce train to catch in about an hour to take us to Florence and it was torrentially downpouring outside.

After trying and failing to call our Airbnb host multiple times and banging on every door in what seemed to be a four-story, empty office building with an empty Airbnb, we panicked for a couple minutes and eyed the gate with more and more determination. “Fuck it; we’re gonna climb it,” I said with false confidence.

Neither of us really seemed to believe me.

I went first, placing my right, gray, Converse sneaker in the low foothold of the gate. I swung my left leg up and had to hop to push my thigh on the gate in order to propel myself over, adrenaline pumping too hard to feel the pain that would catch up with me later in the day. My left foot found the lower foothold and I could jump down to reach the floor. The accomplishment was too great to process and a surge of relief overcame the fear from moments ago. Mike, more determined and in semi-disbelief that I had climbed the gate, was able to toss our bags over and I caught them on the other side. He climbed and propelled himself over the gate and together, we ran to the Tabacchi around the corner to get our tickets for the bus to the train station. We were completely soaked within the thirty seconds it took to get to the Tabacchi and then waited at the bus stop, completely sopping, but out in the open air in Rome and nothing could be more wonderful than not being trapped anymore.

When we arrived at our Airbnb in Florence and unpacked, there were puddles in our backpacks and we hung our clothes up all around the room to let them dry, riding high on our escape from Rome until the shock and bruises set in. We spent our nights in Florence away from our humid room, our legs sore, drinking pints of beer instead of glasses of wine and reminisced about how we had climbed the gate.

On our recent trip to Rome this past spring, we revisited our Airbnb from 2017 and the experience gave us some closure that we needed. We posed in front of the doorway with frowny faces and our thumbs down, with the certainty that we would never stay there again and then we left to join my family for a delicious pasta dinner.

While packing carry-on only may not always come in quite as handy as it did for us on that first trip to Italy together, it makes it so much easier to get around while traveling, whether it be on public transportation, through the airport, or around a city. Having limited space in your travel bags encourages you to pack very intentionally and to use your creativity to create multiple outfits out of a small capsule wardrobe of items.

If you are planning an upcoming trip, I encourage you to try packing light and if you’re in for a real challenge, you could even test out the sense of freedom that comes with Carry-on only travel. Until next time, happy planning, happy packing, and happy travels. And if you ever face a tall iron gate of your own, I wish you luck, strength, perseverance and lots of cold ice packs.

Health & Lifestyle · Mental Health · Travel

Baby by the Ocean

July 23, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries1 Comment

Last summer, while visiting Portland, Maine over the Fourth of July holiday, we went with some friends to a beach in another coastal town nearby called Cape Elizabeth. It was a warm day, though not sweltering, but the shimmering water still looked inviting and we were determined to swim.

We abandoned our beach towels and coverups and approached the water with the knowledge that it would probably be cold. Reality hit with a frostbiting splash with the first steps into the waves. I thought of children by the beach in our shore town back home and of kids we’ve seen on vacation who, determined to jump into the pool first thing in the breezy mornings, would drag their less than excited parents to the poolside to participate and supervise and it made me wonder if discomfort is a learned behavior rather than an innate one.

How is it that a baby by the ocean can be so eager to continue splashing in the shallows even after that first icy touch? In that moment, I wanted a share of that sense of freedom and uninhibitedness, so I held my breath and dove into the crest of an oncoming wave. Submerged and compressed by the cold pressure under the surface, the water invigorated me, stunning my nerves, smoothing my skin, and spreading my hair out behind me.

Breaking through the surface, I gulped the July, Maine air, blood rushing back to my face, cheeks too hot despite the breeze on my chilled skin outside the water. A baby giggled and squealed in the shallows, eager to stay at the edge, daring and alive and oh so happy.

After that trip, I began to will myself to be like a baby by the ocean whenever I was faced with a difficult, but necessary situation. The words became a mantra that helped me through some challenging situations this year and I continue to find myself thinking of them.

The unknown can be frightening, but it was not always that way. The fear develops from the context of our experiences as we grow. Babies seem to approach the unknown with curiosity rather than fear and I envy that in them. I want to stand on the verge of an ocean of possibility, propelled by an insatiable curiosity for the future. I will abandon fear with my beach towel on the sand, excited to dive into foamy crests and come alive no matter how biting the water may be. I can follow the sun, break through the surface, and gulp in the air when I must.

And if you look closely from the shore, you will see me shine and the tide will change. The waves will pull, rise, and crest and I will follow. And for it all, I will be different when we meet again.

Health & Lifestyle · Reviews & Reflections

Little Desks and Little Women

July 15, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries2 Comments

Yesterday, after going for a run, tackling some errands for the shore house’s rental turnover, and doing some timed writing, I treated myself by watching Greta Gerwig’s adaption of Little Women. Movies about writers have always drawn me in and I don’t know how I let this one go unwatched for almost four years. I have never read Louisa May Alcott’s original story, nor have I seen any of the film adaptions, but yesterday, the March family opened their homemade curtain to a new world and had me hooked.

Jo March and her sisters, Meg, Beth, and Amy found unbridled passion in their interests: writing, love, music, art, and family. They faced financial struggles, loneliness, impulsiveness, heartbreak, anger, and loss, but always found their way back to goodness with the guidance and warmth of their mother, Marmee, the influence of their father-in wanting to make him proud as he served the Union Army, and in the good-natured characters they met along the way, giving and trading hearts and lessons throughout the story.

I read that the set of the March home in Gerwig’s adaption got the nickname of “the jewel box” as it was plain on the outside and held lots of color within. The film’s set designers curated a home that reflected the characters’ creativity, warmth, love, chaos, and closeness. The different time settings in the story and the opposing tones were communicated with light which made it easy to recognize when a transition was happening to reflect the characters’ current state or former.

Jo’s writing studio in the attic was absolutely wonderful and rich with color and possibility. The minimalist in me rebels against my desire for a cluttered writing space, but I won’t give in. Something about books, art, costumes, candles, and miscellany just jog ideas like an uncluttered space can’t. I think I will create a small cluttered writing space in my home to see if it helps brings more ideas to light.

I have read and heard from other writer friends that making a dedicated writing space can feed the frequency of your writing and that it is essential in getting you to get something down even when your brain is like an art gallery between installations without another artist lined up. Right now, I am sitting on the blue couch in the living room with the sunlight streaming through our triptych view of the ocean. It is certainly a comfortable space, and perhaps will serve as a dedicated writing space, though lately I am floating around trying to find just that.

I have a very little desk, currently tucked away against the wall, that I sometime use if I feel like writing on the floor beneath the window. Sitting on the floor is a quirk that I do when I need to feel more grounded. I often sit on the floor at large gatherings with family or with friends to feel less anxious and more in-control. I guess that’s strange, but I don’t know; it just feels right and I tend to follow my gut. I like writing under the window at my little desk and sitting on top of the empty gray and white braided oval throw rug that I placed there not long after we moved in. The round shape of the rug is calming and it looks very warm and inviting in the sunlight and warm and inviting inspires cozy writing for me.

The warmth of the day is beginning to seep through the drafty window and summer is in full swing outside. I feel pleasantly lazy and truly happy and don’t know where the day will take me, but will keep an open mind. Like for the March girls I met yesterday, I am fulfilled by simple pleasures and know that whatever may happen, there is a happy ending in sight.