Travel

“Beware of Flamingos”

January 8, 2024November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

Our final approach into Key West International Airport was one of my most memorable so far. Looking out the window, a little smile suspended my cheeks in a dreamy state of cheerfulness as the turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean met below us, guiding the way to the Conch Republic. We landed and took our phones off airplane mode and I let me family know we’d made it safely.

The airport grounds crew rolled up a ramp to the door of the plane, as though an impressive set piece in an extravagant production and we collected our bags, thanked the in-flight crew and bounced down the metal pathway, eager to get the day started after spending hours traveling. A warm breeze whipped through the air and the thunder of jet engines and nearby construction roared in our ears as we followed the fluid foot traffic from the plane, through the tiny terminal with car rental counters and an indoor bar aiming for island vibes, and to the ride-share pickup area. A hankering for cocktails by the water and a grumble in our bellies decided the itinerary for the afternoon, but first we wanted to drop our bags off at the hotel.

Mike summoned a Lyft and we were off. Our driver, a friendly man from Haiti, welcomed us to Key West and told us we would love it and, without prompt, assured us it was a safe place. “Nothing bad ever happened here,” he said, “You can walk around and just enjoy yourselves. You don’t have to worry.” We were not worried to begin with, but it was nice to hear his advice all the same and we were more than ready to walk around and enjoy ourselves.

Our driver dropped us off at our hotel, The Marker, and the staff at the front desk were friendly and accommodating when we asked to store our bags until our room was ready. Bag check tags safely stowed in my handbag, we made our way to Sunset Pier by the Ocean Key Resort & Spa to satiate my thirst for cocktails by the water. I ordered a Grapefruit Crush and Mike got a Florida Keys Brewing Co beer from the bar and we chose two colorful stools overlooking the water and the island of Sunset Key.

No view beats a water view, for me. Make that water turquoise and crystalline and I’m in love. Vacation had officially started and I grew pleasantly drowsy as the jetlag sat heavy upon on my eyelids, the fruity alcohol concoction going down easy, and the gentle sound of water lapped at the pier below and before us through the slats of the railing. We decided we were craving tacos and narrowed our preference down to Amigos Tortilla Bar on Greene Street as it was close and well reviewed and we were hungry.

We were seated immediately at an outdoor counter overlooking Greene Street, a prime people-watching station which I recommend as a top Key West activity. Across the street was Capt. Tony’s Saloon, a bar that boasted a claim of being the oldest bar in Florida, which we knew could in no way be true as we’d been to St. Augustine two years earlier. Still, as we waited for our food, we enjoyed watching the Capt. Tony’s patrons attempt to “feed” coins to the Atlantic goliath grouper suspended above the establishment’s sign, in hopes that good luck would follow them throughout their time on the island if their coin was successfully consumed.

*Capt. Tony’s Saloon from Amigo’s Tortilla Bar*

Lunch was both delicious and refreshing. I opted for tacos, one pork and one shredded chicken, both on corn tortillas and an Islamorada Ale. We were still waiting on the text from our hotel informing us that our room was ready and I wanted to explore Duval Street. We paid the bill and set out to explore.

Duval street is packed with shops, restaurants, and people – hoards and hoards of people. The days we were there, we saw a large cruise ship docked in the port at Mallory Square which definitely contributed to the congestion of the Historic Seaport and Old Town neighborhoods of the little island. Though crowded, we’re not talking Times Square crowded, so we were hardly phased.

We perused the shops and architecture along Duval Street from the sidewalk and navigated south until we’d had enough of the kitchy offerings peeking out at us from shop windows, and changed course in search of the Custom House building, home to the Key West Museum of Art & History, which I had read sometimes displayed large sculpture pieces in front of the building. With no large sculpture on display to marvel at on our visit to the building, however, and receiving the text that our room was ready, we made our way back to The Marker via less busy streets, ingesting the local architecture with each colorful bungalow and guest house we passed along the way, feeling the heat of the afternoon Florida sunshine.

Our room at the Marker was spacious and bright with a king-sized bed, balcony overlooking a palm tree-ensconced parking lot, and a full bathroom equipped with both a shower stall and large soaking tub with key lime scented bath amenities. Mike took a nap and I finished editing a YouTube video and settled in, setting my suitcase on the luggage rack and sliding into my new, pink, satin, travel slippers which replaced my now-recycled, overworn, gray slides with the decorative bows.

Feeling refreshed after getting off of our feet for a couple of hours, we ventured to the outskirts of the Mallory Square Sunset Celebration in search of what all the travel blogs, vlogs, and Tripadvisor promised to be an unforgettable experience. The Sunset Celebration is held nightly and begins approximately two hours before sunset. The celebration is home to lively entertainment including street performers, souvenier and food vendors, live music, and hoards of tourists preferring to see the sunset through their phones instead of with their eyeballs.

It is said that the playwright, Tennessee Williams, began the Sunset Celebration, choosing to applaud the sunset from Mallory Square each evening, with a gin and tonic in hand (what a multi-tasker). Today’s celebration is a far cry from the magic of that image and the dreamer in me felt the experience was muddied by the circus-like spectacle. The crowd was applauding and began to disperse even before the sun reached the horizon, concealed by a cloud for the final moments of its descent, before colorful brushstrokes painted the sky.

We relocated to Sunset Pier next door for pre-dinner cocktails, settling in for the real magic as the crowds thinned and dusk approached. I’m a sucker for a cotton candy sky and this one did not disappoint.

We chose to have dinner at First Flight Island Restaurant & Brewery, a restaurant housed in, and adjacent to, the original PanAm ticket office. I am sorry to say it, but I do not have positive things to say about our dining experience there, beyond that the atmosphere of the outdoor patio was indeed very pleasant. Let’s just say we got to enjoy that atmosphere, and that atmosphere alone for a while, as we waited over thirty minutes for our drink order to be taken by someone who was allegedly not supposed to be our server.

Our drinks arrived about twenty minutes after that, delivered by the same “back-up” server who took down our food order which arrived over an hour later, delivered by our “back-up” server who also told us she had to put our dishes on the tray herself in the kitchen. Despite the lackluster service, we still had high hopes that the loftily priced food would be as delicious as the online reviews has promised. We were disappointed in that as well, unfortunately. If you are going to be a brewery and a restaurant and charge lofty prices, please aim to do at least one of those exceedingly well, or reduce your prices.

We decided to seek out adventure for the next day and signed up for a snorkel and sail tour with Island Jane Charters. We started our second day in Key West with brunch at Moondog Cafe. Walking up to Moondog and seeing the huge crowd outside was a little stressful as we were strapped for time, needing to get to our snorkeling rally point in a little less than two hours. I checked in with the hostess, a laid back, Audrey Hepburn admirer who assured me it would be no more than a fifteen minute wait and introduced me to the system of “putting your name down” at Moondog. She withdrew a box of laminated cards from the hostess stand and instructed me to, “Pick a card, any card.” I read the card I withdrew from the box, “Walt Disney,” the name instantly drawing to mind sunny visions of my friends Chelsea and Paige who each frequent Disney vacation properties.

“Are you really?” said the hostess with airy fascination.

“Why not?” I said with a shrug and a smile.

Sixteen minutes later “my name” was called and the hostess widened her eyes with a smile and said, “Shortest fifteen minutes of your life, am I right?”

We followed her inside, past the counter of freshly baked pastries on display and over to our little table beside a colorful floor to ceiling mural depicting Hemingway and the famous cats that now resided at his former property across the corner. Breakfast was delicious and any stress I felt melted away with the first sips of coffee and a few bites of my “Moondog Classic”. It was a relief to taste delicious food after my epic fail of dinner the night before.

We hurried back to The Marker to change for our snorkeling tour and got to the rally point in a less than direct way, but on time, only to be informed that snorkeling the reef was not possible that day due to the recent windy weather making the water too murky to see anything. The sail was still on offer though, and boasted unlimited drinks. We’d get a partial refund if we chose to go on the sail or a full refund if we preferred not to. We decided that already being there and in search of an adventure, that we’d join for the sail and it turned out to be a fun and informative way to pass a couple of hours. Being out on the water alone was worth the price.

One thing first time visitors should be mindful of when visiting Key West is that there are not sandy beaches where you can wade into the water barefoot and bask in the gentle tide. Beaches in Key West, other than Smathers Beach, outside the historic, walkable downtown, are manmade and rocky (and crowded!). It is better to go in search of the plethora of watersports, cruises, and activities offered to satisfy your splashy goals and search for those breathtaking views.

We sat poolside at the Marker for a while after our sail, enjoying live music up until the point where an attention-hungry, over-tanned, grown man decided it would be fun for everyone to experience the interactive journey of him canon-balling into the pool. Next was our old haunt, Sunset Pier, then dinner at what I was hoping would be an excellent Cuban restaurant. (First Flight really pummeled my restaurant confidence, can you tell?) We changed for dinner and walked to El Siboney in the Old Town neighborhood. The place was crowded with tourists when we sat down so I had high hopes it would live up to the hype, and live up to the hype it did.

I ordered the ropa vieja (shredded beef with onions, peppers, tomato, and spices with a side of white rice and black beans) and Mike got the lechon (slow roasted pork marinated in sour orange mojo with onions and a side of white rice and black beans). We both decided it might be the best ropa vieja we have ever tasted and we have tasted some excellent ropa vieja, let me tell you.

We walked back to The Marker, our bellies full, breathing in the humid evening and dodging palm fronds as we passed the colorful bungalows that hugged the sidewalk, warning us to Beware of Flamingos and informing us that Life’s a Beach. We made our way along the streets, many with names of members of British royalty and returned to the Marker, satisfied with our adventures for the day.

We drifted off to sleep, sheltered by the palm trees, enveloped in the welcoming conch spirit, our rental car and Florida Keys road trip lying in wait. We went to Moondog again for one last meal before heading to the airport to collect our rental car and drove east with the thought that one more day in paradise would have been just right.

Shopping My Closet

January 4, 2024November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

I’ve been shedding bits of myself lately-

Discarding layers

Like pilled sweaters and torn jeans in a heap on the floor,

Too careless to aim for the hamper

And call them as they are-

Pieces in need of care and mending.

Sometimes I’ll pick part of me back up and wear it again,

Beyond acceptable condition of wearability.

A muddy thought.

A wrinkled smile.

A stained mindset.

And it just doesn’t look right somehow.

And then I realize that I packed away the appropriate wearables months ago,

Vacuum sealed in a Small Space Bag

In a plastic bin from Target.

I open the bin

And see the love, friends, hobbies, memories, and plans shriveled up like raisins packed for space rations.

I open the bag and they puff up into grapes again,

Turned with the chemical perfume of storage.

I wash my wearables

And extra spin so they look their best.

I slide into a brightly colored memory,

A cotton blend of calm and nostalgia that allows room to breathe.

I am me once again,

Happy thoughts folded in the drawers

where I can reach them,

The hamper and floor – empty,

Ready to collect me

When I am over worn.

Cozy Posts · Travel

December on the Banks of the Delaware

December 3, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries3 Comments

I overpacked for a journey to the past this weekend, but I have no regrets. Our adventure (and our little car) took us across the state to Stockton, NJ, where we decided to treat ourselves to a weekend of luxurious relaxation at The Woolverton Inn. The inn, housed in a pretty, stonework, manor house originally built as a two-story farmhouse in 1792, drew us in with its online photos that captured its elegant pastoral charm, hearty breakfasts, and cozy rooms with lavish soaking baths and in-room fireplaces.

I packed for the weekend, abandoning my typical restraint with the aim of being as cozy as possible while away from home. My suitcase graciously accommodated my uncharacteristically maximal decisions as I stuffed it full with cozy sweaters and flannels, warm loungewear, and my plush bathrobe. The zipper of my toiletry bag was tested with the addition of a large bottle of rosemary and mint bubble bath, and we even prepared an additional bag of sweet indulgences to make our retreat all the more enjoyable.

After loading up the car, we began our journey west in a gray drizzle, with a stop planned at Readington Brewery. The brewery did not disappoint and was replete with cozy warmth and rustic charm. We shared a flight of four beer samples, seated at a picnic table beside a Christmas tree, inside the brewery’s bright, spacious tasting room, sheltered from the chill and damp outside beneath its high, warm-toned wooden ceiling.

After closing out our tab, we continued on toward Stockton, the daylight fading from gray to muted periwinkle. We pulled into the cobbled and gravel driveway of the Woolverton at twilight and hurried across the stone entry path to the front door. We were greeted by a friendly staff member, Janet, who checked us in and led us on an informative tour of the inn and our room. Janet was very knowledgeable about the inn and its history and I was fascinated to learn that Julia Child and her husband, Paul, were married on the property’s stone patio back in 1946 when the manor house was still a private residence. Janet also explained that fresh baked cookies were put out in the dining room by three p.m. each afternoon and that a supply of coffee, tea, and cocoa were always available before directing our attention to a glass decanter of Dubliner Whiskey with Honey, available for guests to help themselves to a tipple or a nightcap if they were so inclined, which of course, we were.

Janet led us to our room, Amelia’s Suite, the original master suite from the time of the house’s earliest construction in 1792 and I immediately felt like a lucky house guest of the Honourable Phryne Fisher as my gaze wandered around, scanning the comfortable environs, thoughtfully decorated and enclosed with ornate Chinoiserie wallpaper in red and beige hues.

Janet left us and we settled into our room. I allowed my suitcase to breathe and explored our accommodations, taking a few photographs for this post. We went back downstairs to sample the mouthwatering homemade chocolate chip cookies, to choose our breakfast time for the next morning, and to pour ourselves each a taste of the whiskey. After relaxing in the room for a bit, we braved the rain and made the slightly harrowing drive across Center Bridge to the Pennsylvania side of the river, following the slightly flooded, dark, winding road to New Hope in search of dinner.

After spending unanticipated time figuring out parking for the municipal lot vs. the street (street is the way to go, if you can find a spot), we escaped the rain and opted to sit at the bar in a snug tavern called The Salt House where the bartender was very attentive and accommodating. We each ordered a whiskey cocktail, Mike opting for an Old Fashioned, and I for something called All The Buzz.

We sipped our drinks and ordered some hearty fare, taking our time, talking, eating, and drinking, elbow to elbow with the bar counter’s other patrons. After dinner, we explored the shining streets of New Hope in the rain, passing by the sleeping small businesses and shops. I pointed out to Mike Bucks County Playhouse where I used to participate in high school theater competitions and we chatted about how I was finding the town much more enjoyable this time around without the lurking stress of competition and sometimes a scarcity of friends to share the day with.

We returned to Stockton via the New Jersey side of the river and passed through the quaint village that was home to our weekend lodgings. The confines of Stockton were pretty and festive, some buildings and streets decorated with Christmas lights and decorations.

We headed back up to our suite at The Woolverton, looking forward to a luxurious soak in the bath after our adventures in the rain. I made sure to add a plentiful amount of bubbles to water as the tub filled and enjoyed the soothing fragrance of rosemary and mint and warm sips of Maker’s Mark while lounging in the hot bath, once again reminiscent of Kerry Greenwood’s 1920s Melbourne upper society lady detective, Miss Fisher.

The only item I forgot to bring that would have ensured a night of proper sleep during our stay was my pillow. I am, shall we say, a very particular sleeper. At home, I have a memory foam pillow and at The Woolverton, I did not. I think most normal people would be able to adjust to the change quite easily, but I had some difficulty. I am not sure if I could have requested a firmer pillow from the inn’s staff the next day, as I did not do so, but if you do plan to visit and are as particular a sleeper as I am, perhaps arrange with the inn’s staff ahead of time to accommodate such a preference or bring your own.

The next morning, we headed down to the enclosed, heated porch for our breakfast of piña colada scones, fresh fruit, eggs, potatoes, and salad. I helped myself to coffee in the dining room and we each enjoyed a glass of orange juice. We planned our day a bit better over our meal and decided to take a twenty-minute drive down the New Jersey bank of the Delaware to visit Washington Crossing State Park, making sure to say a quick hello to The Woolverton’s resident sheep in their paddock on the property on the way to our car.

We were one of three cars in the Visitor’s Center lot at the park and enjoyed perusing the museum’s collection of Revolutionary War artifacts and artwork depicting historical scenes from the era. We then took advantage of the dry weather and embarked on a short hike around the park’s muddy trails, starting out on the Continental Lane trail, following in the footsteps of the Continental Army as they began their historic 9-mile march to Trenton, NJ on December 26, 1776, after crossing the half frozen Delaware on Christmas Night, in pursuit of carrying out General Washington’s plan of a surprise attack on the Hessian mercenaries stationed in what would later become New Jersey’s capital.

Our hike took us down to the Ferry Site on the New Jersey side where a replica of of a wooden ferry was on display in the grass beside the whitewashed, stone Nelson House, which was not constructed yet at the time of Washington and the Continental Army’s historic crossing.

We hiked back to the car and continued our outdoor adventures, heading back up 29 to Lambertville. We wound our way up to the parking lot for Goat Hill Overlook, heeding the posted, yellow, warning signs advising that copperhead snakes had been sighted in the area and that they only attack if disturbed. I was a little bit afraid as we made our way up the path that was laden with copper-colored leaves, but we made our way unscathed to the viewpoint and were rewarded with a pretty, albeit foggy, view of the Delaware River and New Hope below.

We noticed our growing hunger as we headed back to the parking lot, careful not to trod on any leaf-sheathed copperheads, of which we saw none, and made our heading The Dubliner on the Delaware in New Hope for lunch and a couple of pints. I opted for a Half and Half – a combination of Harp and Guinness, which Mike reminded me to photograph for this post as well as a delicious lamb stew, which he did not.

Our day continued with a much needed nap at the Woolverton and then a festive trip to Peddler’s Village in Lahaska, PA to view the their attraction of one million holiday lights. I have never seen Peddler’s Village so crowded, and think perhaps it was due to Saturday night being the only night to escape the weekend’s rainy forecast. We perused a few of the shops and bought a couple of puzzles, forgoing a couple others that captured our attention, due to their staggering piece-count

We escaped the crowds of Peddler’s Village in search of dinner in Lambertville and opted to go to Under the Moon Cafe for some tapas. We ordered a couple of appetizers, a turkey vegetable soup special and some sliders with San Marzano tomato sauce as well as a Tapas Tower of skirt steak, shrimp, and Manchego with pears. We ended our delicious meal with a sweet tres leches cake before heading back to The Woolverton to repeat our rosemary mint soak and Maker’s Mark nightcap from the night before.

We ended our weekend at The Woolverton with breakfast in our suite. Mike opted for heuvos rancheros and I for coffee and French toast with berry compote and real maple syrup. We packed up our things and checked out of our suite, heading out into the rain to make our way home, taking with us the souvenir of the fond memories of our step back in time.

Books · Mental Health · Movies · Reviews & Reflections

The Boy and Girl Who Lived

November 14, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

I first finished reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone when I was ten years old. It was the summer of 2002 and I was in need of ways to escape the organized chaos that was The Work Family Connection day camp. I had seen the first Harry Potter movie in the theatre when it came out in the fall of 2001 and was mesmerized by the magical world of JK Rowling’s imagination, brought to life by the cast, crew, writers, and artists involved with the film. It was “movie magic” in its truest form and I absolutely loved it.

The Work Family Connection’s summer camp was located in the basement-level cafeteria of Southern Boulevard School. The cafeteria had waxed, linoleum, tiled floors, beige and blue cinderblock walls, and it was where WFC’s before-school program was held during the year. I had spent a lot of time there and made most of my friends, at the time, at WFC and have retained few of them, unfortunately, after we each grew up and went our separate ways.

Rather than gossip with my friends or ask (pester?) the counselors for their worldly advice about what it was like to be “adults”, for a few days I preferred to sit alone at one of the cafeteria tables with my book. I flipped open my paperback and allowed myself to be swallowed whole by Harry and his story. I disappeared into the fragrant pages of an enchanted world hidden amongst the very real-world places of London and the Scottish Highlands. With ease, the words blocked out the cacophony of Nok-Hockey sticks smacking against a particle board rink as well as the generally loud nature of pre-pubescents who each have something on the tip of their tongue that is absolutely the most important thing you will ever hear, no like seriously guys.

My parents had tried to read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to me and my sister when we were younger, but either I or Katie (or both) couldn’t make it past Fluffy, the three-headed dog, a Cerberusesque creature, who guards a dangerous place full of enchanted obstacles and secrets much too dangerous for children.

If you have read the beloved series or watched the movies, you will realize that I was very close to Harry’s age at the time of the story and that I would soon turn eleven. Eleven is a pivotal age in JK Rowling’s fictional universe as it is the age at which young witches and wizards receive their Hogwarts letter. I, however, remember being petrified of turning eleven.

When I was nine, two of my best friends at WFC aftercare were reading from an anthology of scary stories and stopped abruptly after reading one line in particular. When I asked why they stopped, they looked at me with grim expressions and showed me a sentence in the book. The sentence prophesied that people born on my birthday would die in eleven years. It seems silly now, of course, but when you are nine and your best friends believe something as serious as this, even if only for a moment, you entertain the possibility that it could be true. In fact, you believe it to be. I- being nine and gullible, wondered with dread if I’d bite the big one at eleven or at twenty. I imagine neither of these friends remembered this traumatizing “prophecy” past that day, when they read the words in the book, but in many ways, this experience shaped me.

Harry Potter distracted me from my looming eleventh birthday and was there for me with the wave of relief brought on by my twelfth, having lived to tell the tale. Harry, who had already lived ten years longer than he was supposed to, at the time of the first book, was an exception to the rule, and so too, would I be, (and probably most people born on my birthday, for that matter). Sometimes, I wish I could travel back to that moment and give that nine year old girl a huge hug and let her know she’s got so much more time than she thinks she has. Thirty-two would have been an absolute dream for her, but let’s hope for even more borrowed time than that.

In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, I visited the Weasley family’s bustling home, The Burrow, for the first time. Though book two is my least favorite of the series, due to the heavy lean on spiders in the storytelling, I fell in love with the Burrow and the Weasley family instantly. The Burrow is the epitome of lived-in cozy. It started as a small house and over the years, as Molly and Arthur Weasley’s brood grew to seven children, new levels, rooms, and towers were magically added here and there. It is a house filled with personality, color, hand-me-downs, squashy furniture, and imperfect perfection. There is a quote from the second movie that is not in my edition of the book, where Ron says, “It’s not much, but it’s home,” and yet, it is so much more than he thinks, something that Harry recognizes the instant he lays eyes on Ron’s unique family home.

I continued on my journey with Harry and his friends, tagging along like Neville Longbottom, wanting to fit in and be part of the crew. Once I was twelve, and out of the proverbial forbidden forest of my looming death prophecy, I could just be a kid again. I continued reading, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban then Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I got happily lost in these stories and met creatures I could never have dreamed up myself, a spectator to Harry and his friends’ exciting lives and challenges.

I went to a book release party for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix at our local Borders (RIP!) with two friends and we went back to my friend Meagan’s house for a sleepover afterwards. I couldn’t put that massive blue hardcover down. Neither could my friends. It was the quietest sleepover in the history of sleepovers and we were all having the best time.

I bought my copy of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince in the summer of 2005, the day after saying goodbye to a boy I had met who I really liked and who I would not see again for five years, when the door was firmly closed and deadbolted. I delved into my new book that hot summer, in need of my friends in JK Rowling’s world. I found a haven in Harry’s world, despite the darkening tone of the story and the trials lying in wait for Harry and his friends as the books progressed. I am grateful for that green book at that time in my early teen years when I really needed something to disappear into.

I then had two years to wait for book seven, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, to be released. My cousin and I speculated what would happen to Harry in the final book and who would survive what was to come in his magical universe. When I got that book, I think I finished it in two or three days, holed up in a squashy blue armchair with mugs of microwaved French Vanilla tea, wedged in the little reading nook between my parents’ dressers whenever their room in our apartment was available. I learned about horcruxes and rooted for Harry and the Order’s victory over darkness. I bore witness to Severus Snape’s most heartfelt motivations and saw Harry become a little more human in recognizing them too. It was thrilling and heartbreaking and everything I had hoped it would be and more. And when I reached the final page, I wanted to start the whole thing all over again, as I had done after finishing each book.

Throughout his years at Hogwarts and beyond, Harry faces many harrowing experiences and has a responsibility to be brave. Always in tow are his truest friends, Ron and Hermione, to help him through the toughest bits. The Harry Potter stories teach the importance of creating a support system for children, both through friendships and mentorships. They encourage children to be imaginative, brave, and adventurous. They succeeded in teaching me these lessons, for which I will always be grateful. I truly grew up with this series and it has been there for me through the trickier years in my life. As Albus Dumbledore says in Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban, “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light.” When you are feeling lost or sad, try opening a portal to another world in the pages of a book and take a look around for a while to see if you find treasure there, as I did.

Thank you for reading this long post. If a particular book has had a big impact on you, I’d love to hear about it. Leave me a comment, if you’d like to share and happy reading! 🙂

Travel

The Ghosts of Castello di Vezio

October 30, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries1 Comment

This past May, Mike and I joined my family for a trip to Italy, however, for the first leg of this trip, we chose to visit Lake Como on our own instead of joining the rest of the group in Venice. For the first leg of our journey, we spent a few days in a peninsular town called Bellagio on the shore of Lake Como and used our time there to venture to some of the nearby villages on the shores of the lake. Bellagio is known as “The Pearl of Lake Como” and it owns up to its nickname, in my opinion. The weather forecast for our trip was incorrectly dismal with the exception of our first day there and when Mike asked me what I definitely wanted to do in Lake Como in case we only had one nice day to do it, I didn’t need to think twice when it came to my response.

“I want to see the ghosts,” I said.

He knew exactly what I was talking about because we had looked up many activities in the region and during our time researching for our trip, he had stumbled upon the ruins of Castello di Vezio that tower above the village of Varenna. We flew from JFK to Milan and took an hour and a half car ride with our friendly driver, Mauro, in what we were pleasantly surprised to find out was a Tesla. The drive was hot, but picturesque. Italian natives do not rely as heavily on air conditioning as we do in America and Mauro seemed comfortable sitting in his dress clothes upon a towel in the driver’s seat while we quietly melted into the back seat upholstery, two American puddles invisibly staining the black pleather.

We arrived in Bellagio after a couple of harrowing experiences on the narrow roads, passing trucks and hoards of people, all of which Mauro navigated expertly and half-jokingly exclaimed, “I love my Italy!” in a heavy Italian accent. We love Mauro’s Italy too and appreciated his skilled approach to the region’s winding roads. Mauro delivered us safely to Piazza Giuseppi Mazzini, where we paid him and he pointed up a steep flight of stairs in the direction of our hotel. We climbed with our suitcases and backpacks and checked into our room at Hotel Bellagio, greeted by the friendly staff at the reception desk. We were happy to learn that our room was well air conditioned. Soon after setting down our bags, we headed off to the ferry, jet lagged, but going strong. We took the ferry to the beautiful, romantic village of Varenna with a half-baked plan to see the ghosts.

When we arrived in Varenna, we got a little lost to start out, but eventually found the trail that led up to the little village of Perledo, toward the top of the mountain, from which we could connect to the trail to the castle. We climbed and climbed and climbed. The trail was steep and rocky with sections that were difficult to pass due to us wearing inappropriate footwear. We did not do enough research to know we should have planned to wear hiking boots for this journey. I was wearing jelly sandals and Mike wore regular sneakers. Despite our inadequate footwear, we made it to the top, drenched in sweat, our lungs working overtime, and our hearts pumping effortfully.

*Start of the trail to Castello di Vezio from Varenna*

At the top of the mountain, we were greeted by a small cafe at the base of the castle. We stopped to purchase our tickets from the counter and ordered some well-earned 400-ml glasses of Nastro Azzuro. The beer was cold and the cafe seating was inviting despite the presence of cigarette smoke permeating the air. After a while, we got used to the smoke, something you must do when in Italy where a quarter of the population are smokers. We rested our aching legs and discussed the journey up and how ill-prepared we were for it. After finishing our beers, it was time to explore the castle and meet the ghosts.

Upon seeing the view, I nearly forgot about the ghosts. The panoramic scenery was more breathtaking than the climb had been and the sight of the sparkling water below us and the mountains that cradled it was absolute magic. Even Mike, who prefers not to take pictures had whipped out his phone and was snapping away. We asked another couple to take our picture and they graciously accommodated.

After marveling at the view for a while, I spotted the ghosts. The ghosts of Castello di Vezio are life-sized plaster cast sculptures that sit lonely and ominous on the castle ruins’ cliffside bannisters and stone walls, like protective gargoyles overlooking the lake and the village below. The sun was shining and the sky, blue, the day we went, but I imagine the ghosts would be much eerier on a cloudy day.

After meeting a few of the ghosts, we wandered to the top of the castle turret for what promised to be a 360 degree view. We were not disappointed, though enjoyed the unobstructed view from the first observation area toward the base of the castle more.

When we were finished exploring, we headed back down the mountain trail slowly, gripping the moss covered stone walls of Perledo, careful not to stumble on loose rocks underfoot. Once at the bottom of the trail, our stomachs grumbled and we wandered the picturesque streets of Varenna in search of something to eat. We ended up at a tourist trap on the water, but didn’t mind as the view was worth the less than stellar food. We should have eaten in Piazza San Giorgio where we read the food was much better, though we’d have had to settle for the view of the Chiesa di San Giorgio and the beautiful Hotel Royal Victoria in favor of the sparkling lake views. I think we could have dealt with that just fine.

Once the jetlag hit, it was time to head back to Bellagio on the ferry for some much needed rest, followed by an aperitivo of red wine in a lakefront cafe and dinner of pasta and fish at B-Lake Bellagio. We went to sleep for the night with full bellies and the pleasant tipsiness that a day of adventure and Italian wine can bring and woke to a surprisingly beautiful morning. Though the rest of the trip promised no ghosts, I found that thoughts of the plaster casts haunting Castello di Vezio stuck with me for the rest of the journey, apparitions in search of aperitivi, just like we were. To these happy haunts, I say, “Salute, buon appetito, e arrivederci!”

Poetry

Watered Down Whiskey

October 18, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

I take a sip of watered down whiskey.

Honey sweetness coats my tongue

And climbs my palate walls,

like a spell of rain on rewind.

Ginger heat slides down my throat

And spreads across my chest,

A fermented shield beneath my skin.

Spiced warmth seeps into my armor

And I am fortified with soothing calm.

The sensation of the aftertaste follows,

A pleasant burn that lingers.

Thoughts relax and the world warps,

Viewed through a curved lens.

Apprehensions subside, the words easy to find,

And the impossible is a matter of effort.

Synapses twinkle,

Transmissions fire,

And there are too many ideas to write down.

I hardly know this me,

This artist whose craft comes easy

Temporarily.

And I think perhaps I owe this burst

To the sips of watered down whiskey.

Health & Lifestyle

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.

Cozy Posts · Travel

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!