Tag: christmas

Cozy Posts · Movies

Rule Number 32

Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

A couple of weeks ago, we watched a favorite we hadn’t seen in a while, the 2009 Horror/Comedy, Zombieland. Throughout the movie, Columbus (Jessie Eisenberg) introduces his set of rules for surviving a world overrun by zombies while trying to find his way from Texas to Ohio. The movie takes a sharp westward turn soon after Columbus unites with the Twinkie-craving, trigger-happy Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson), followed by the cunning duo, Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin). The movie has become somewhat of a cult classic and leans heavily on the comedy, with the obligatory side of brains- of course.

But back to the rules.

There is one of Columbus’ rules in particular that Mike likes to quote all of the time and always in reference to yours truly. It’s Rule Number 32, Enjoy the little things. I find immense joy in little things. Couldn’t really tell you why; it just happens that way. Color me lucky, I guess.

Sometimes “the little things” are physically small objects, like the tiny rubber elephant that I bought in Seattle in 2016 and still carry in my handbag or the Christmas bird with the busted wing that I bought from Michael’s on Halloween back in 2020. These sorts of little things were very intentional additions to my happiness. I learned of their existence in the world and knew they were meant for me and so, I made them mine.

There are also the little sensory experiences that bring me a lot of joy such as feeling the heat from the stove while boiling the kettle, breathing in the earthy scent of crispy book pages, or peeling apart the golden crust of a flaky croissant, to name just a few. Think Amélie and her petits plaisirs, like cracking the caramelized topping of crème brulée with the back of a spoon. She gets it.

I collect these little moments, these “little things”.

Today, one of my little things is the combination of the cello vamp and string line in Bleacher’s “91” which I have playing on repeat as I write this post. Yesterday, it was getting a Christmas card from my cousin, Jen, the scent of warm, coconut curry that lingered long after Mike made dinner, and enjoying a scoop of Graeter’s Black Raspberry Ice Cream from a little ramekin with a little spoon. 😊

Each day has lots of these little things, lots of little opportunities to experience joy.

Today was a coffee sort of morning, thanks to the complimentary Starbucks Holiday Blend that came with our latest Hello Fresh delivery and I just couldn’t resist brewing a cup in my favorite mug (see, there’s another one right there). Sitting by the window in one of our outdoor chairs, that was recently cleaned off and pulled inside for the winter, is one of my favorite things in the colder months. I sipped and watched the waves roll in on the beach while toasting my toes beneath the electric baseboard. I wish I could share that feeling with everyone; the world would be a much calmer place.

My caffeine-induced heartbeat’s trying to match the cello vamp now, but lacks the necessary arrythmia to do so. Christmas Eve is next week, a day that feels more all-encompassing of the celebration of the holiday than Christmas Day, at least in my personal experience. The gathering, the revelry, the heraldry. And lots of little joys all around. A roaring fire in my parents’ woodstove, Celtic Christmas music playing, warm mugs of tea and their swirling clouds of steam, and lots of smiles and laughs.

Writing this post is giving me joy too. Writing most of them has, for that matter. I checked and this is number 97. Soon it will be number 100, but that won’t be a little thing at all, will it? No, that one will feel pretty big, I think.

Thank you for reading and Happy Holidays, friends. I hope you practice Rule Number 32 this season, however you celebrate. Zombies aside, it’s not a bad one to live by.

Cozy Posts

December Postcard

Beth DeFries2 Comments

Dear friends,

It’s a chilly, damp evening here in New Jersey. Outside, the night is black taffeta, embroidered with the glowing orbs of street lamps in the fog. I’m sitting on the big, blue couch enjoying the tree which is up and twinkling while Joni sings through the speakers, “Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on.”

I forgot about my tea- as I often do- so it’s lukewarm beside me, but still steeped with warm spices that combat the weather. There is laundry to be folded and dishes to be done, but for right now, chores come second to a quiet moment. I’d just rather write to you than put the house in order.

My head is full of sparkly thoughts and familiar faces as I was lucky to see a lot of friends and some family over the course of the past few days- with more on the horizon. Everyone is the same, I find- beautiful, mismatched combinations of happy, confused, successful, busy, lost, and right-on-track souls. We all vary and that’s the part I find most beautiful. No person I know is perfect and I prefer it that way.

This night has me craving some serious “hygge” (hoo-gah), a word that encompasses the Danish spirit and habit of curating coziness in everyday spaces and moments. In pursuit of hygge, I’m all cozied up in warm socks, a big chunky cardigan, and a reindeer sweater. The table lamps are on and the ornaments on the tree project little film reels of memories in my head, mementos and tokens of past trips, handmade creations, and lasting friendships. We went with a fake tree this year, but it looks pretty real, so I don’t mind, though I do miss the smell of fresh cut pine permeating the room.

I find myself reflecting tonight. It’s been a good year, overall- imperfect, but interesting, as any year worth its salt ought to be. I learned a little and grew a lot, taking refuge in books and music like my life depended on it. My reading list has twenty books checked off, which reminds me, I need to choose a new selection, or perhaps I’ll reopen one I’ve already read. I think I could use a little handmade love from Molly Weasley or the homely hospitality of Elrond this time of year.

Or maybe it’s Maeve Binchy again. “This Year it Will Be Different”– an apt title to end a year that’s sparked some changes for me, that’s made me feel whole at times and absolutely drained in others, a year that’s led me to physical health, mental clarity, and self-acceptance more so than others have. This year was well-lived. I’ll take that and be grateful for it and wish you one just as thought provoking and inspiring in the year to come.

It’s time now, though, to reheat the kettle and hunt down some words. A world is waiting in a book on the shelf, after all, and I believe I’m overdue for a visit.

Poetry

George Bailey

Beth DeFries1 Comment

Fate is a dance on a retractable floor

revealing a swimming pool.

The threat is exciting,

the water- inviting.

Sometimes you can’t help but fall in.

A cat in a box

In Schrödinger’s thoughts

Would tell you you’ve little to say

In the matters of fate and lasers and beams,

Trapped as we are in sadistic dreams

Where false seems real and reality fake.

Mary leaned over and whispered,

Yet also, Mary did not.

It depends on the channels to which you subscribe.

It depends on George Bailey’s ever being alive,

But her words echo now while constructing these lines.

“George Bailey, I’ll love you till the day I die.”

New paths sprout up all around.

Some are searing and bright.

Some lack shadow or sound.

Stumble or wander wherever you may

For you’ve little to say in the matter of fate.

Just ask that cat in the box.

Too late.

Buffalo gals won’t come out tonight,

Say the moon’s an impractical gift,

Yet George Bailey’s dream soar.

Practicality’s a bore.

It’s a wonderful life, so long as it’s lived.