Books · Cozy Posts · Health & Lifestyle · Travel

May Postcard

Well, hello, hello there, friends. I’m sipping decaf Lady Grey tea on the blue couch this afternoon, craving some cozy on a bit of a blustery day. Decaf- because too much caffeine makes me crazy and tea because I’ve nixed coffee once again, hopefully for good this time around, but more on that later.

There is writing and travel planning to get to. My unfinished library books were keeping me from both the past couple days, so I returned them. I figuratively hit pause on the last book of Stephen King’s Dark Tower Series as getting through this last one is proving to be a bit of a slog, not to mention a nightmare inducer. It’s a good story and well-written, of course- just very, very, very long, and very, very, very vivid and I am learning that my overactive imagination doesn’t pair well with reading horror. I figure I’ll get back to it eventually and finish up strong. I just can’t say when. So that’s a we’ll see.

I need something less horrifying, but equally good- some Maeve Binchy or some Tana French, perhaps. A re-read, most likely. My re-reads are the coziest books in my collection, the ones that bring me back to memories of reading them other times before, some of them multiple times before. They are old friends on the shelf, the slowly decaying glue of their spines, one of the most reassuring smells in the whole world. If joy was a smell, it would smell like used books.

There is a map of Montreal in my head that I need to sharpen. The lodging is booked, a pretty apartment near Chinatown and Old Montreal that I imagine I’ll write about in a few months time. The next things to plan are the sights, activities, and eats. Will I try one of Montreal’s bagels, I wonder? They are boasted to be better than New York’s, which is pretty hard to believe. Another we’ll see (but probably- I mean; who says no to bagels?)

On the subject of bread, I’m thinking back to our last trip to the Québec province, a core memory of which was the picnic basket delivered to our hotel room each morning filled with fresh fruit, orange juice, croissants, pain au chocolat, jam, and coffee. Yum. I think this is what I am craving most from a trip to Montreal, coffee aside, because the little things make me disproportionately happy and croissants happen to be a big, little thing for me.

Since learning how to eat “normally” last summer, there have been far fewer croissants, but that just makes the times I do have them even more enjoyable. Being down almost fifty pounds and still being able to eat croissants, guilt-free, is a pretty amazing feeling. There is power in control and understanding just as there is enjoyment in reasonable indulgence. You have to live well in more ways than one in order to be happy and it helps to have a handle on how to do that in regards to food and nourishment for almost a year now.

That brings me to coffee. Coffee, which I quit for five months from last May to October. Coffee, which I reintroduced, thinking there’s no harm in one cup every now and then. Then, there’s no harm in one cup a day- two even. For me, I think there might be.

I’ve wondered for years if I have anxiety. Now, I’m wondering if it was just the coffee. I don’t have a diagnosis and I am not a doctor, so really, don’t listen to a word I say on this. I only know me and how I react to the stuff. I’ve noticed, though, that since quitting coffee over a month ago and cutting way back on caffeine in general, my emotions feel much more regulated and my focus and productivity- much sharper.

Even last time when I gave up coffee, I was still drinking multiple cups of caffeinated tea per day. When my caffeine intake reduced even more, the feelings of anxiousness quieted down. My thoughts aren’t constantly racing. I have enough energy to get through the day without having to battle fatigue with a stimulant. I’ve got to say, that feels like a pretty big win.

There is one thing that seems to have gone with the caffeine, though, and that is the poetry. Hopefully that’ll come back when its ready. Another we’ll see, I guess.

Anyways, time to get back to other things now. I know it’s been a while since the last post; I just didn’t know what to write. This probably wasn’t for everyone, but it’s what I could manage and I hope that’s fine with you all. Thanks for reading, as always. All’s well here and hope it’s just so wherever you are.

-Beth

Cozy Posts · Movies

Rule Number 32

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.

Poetry

Dream on the Cusp

Woke up today feeling small-

Not weak or defeated,

Just not much at all,

A speck on a marble that spins round and round,

In a bed, in a house, on the ground.

You couldn’t see me from space,

Head up in the clouds

Of fog fallen from grace,

Looking up towards the gray to peel and reveal,

And wonder why Earth’s a big deal.

Dreams circle black holes

Drawn to depths un-suspect,

Stretched like melted shoe soles,

Till I can’t recognize, translate, or surmise,

Stars extinguished from sparkling skies.

Wake to reason sipped on the porch-

Ground elixir of addicts

That can’t hold a torch

To the infinite warps of spacetime, sublime

That inspired this wandering rhyme.

Cozy Posts · Nostalgic Posts

Good Bones

The heart of the shore house beats with the influx of familiar faces after the renting geese who flocked here for a change of scenery migrate home. The stairs creak in welcome at the sound of our identifiable steps and the walls sigh with relief as we walk through the front door and exchange warm greetings amongst family. The smiles, raised glasses, wagging tails, and toddler hugs refuel our tired spirits and remind us that although we share this place with so many, it is ultimately ours and together, we are home.

The shore house, though never my primary residence, is the home that I remember best from my childhood. It is where I spent my summers with my Nana and my Aunt Arlene. It is where I learned to cook with way too much butter and salt which I’ve since learned to remediate. It is where I learned the manners of a lady and sometimes defied that lesson by channeling a hereditary instinct to be wild thanks to the generation before me (though it is now impossible to mislay the cup, napkin, knife, and fork in a table setting).

The shore house has seen me shattered, coming back to a gloom within its walls that seemed they’d never feel full again the day my Aunt Arlene lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. The shore house helped me to start the healing process in the days that followed. It is where I learned the benefits of solitude, self-reflection, and the great company and support that you can find on the pages of a book.

The shore house, along with my Nana and Aunt Arlene, is why I know my family so well, why my cousins are more like sisters to me and my sister, and why I feel a need to spend so much effort nurturing a building, these days, despite the fact that doing so can push me to my stress limits better than anything else can.

With the shore house, my Nana and her sister created a home for all of the family to feel is ours. Nurturing the space reciprocates a respect for the value that it adds and has added to our family’s shared experience. In our shared home, we strive for functionality and something that is easier to care for, for the benefit of our migrating guests, but we also make sure that there is an abundance of coziness for ourselves as well.

Coziness, to me, is a combination of functionality, minimalism, and personal identity. Sometimes coziness seems like something else entirely to other members of my family. We make it work, though I can’t fully say I understand how.

Conch shells, Bananagrams tiles, paintings of ships in storms, lighthouse figurines, and donation bags coexist.

Sisters, cousins, grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, husbands, fiancées, Daisy (and Dixie), and friends coexist.

Someone always has to sleep in Room 6 and wake up with a head bruise or two, courtesy of the steeply sloped ceiling.

There are often more than twenty-five pairs of shoes by the front door. The TV volume always fuels debate for what is to be considered a reasonable volume, as my Nana used to say. It takes hours to settle on a movie to watch and then someone inevitably leaves the room just after we hit play.

At the shore house, we drink way too much whiskey, too much wine, and just enough beer. Cheese and See’s Candies are considered reasonable meals. We stay up too late talking and laughing on the porch. We wake up to Daisy sniffing at the bedroom door and come downstairs to the perfume of coffee, the sound of cartoons, and a chorus of good mornings in the living room with each new entrant.

There are porch people and couch people and beach people.

The showers are usually taken.

The showers are cold when it’s finally your turn.

The kitchen is stifling in the evening no matter what setting the ceiling fan is on.

Eggs, oatmeal, bacon, and Del Ponte’s treats nourish us in the mornings – and coffee, of course. “I could do another cup,” sings the chorus of porch people.

We smell like sunscreen and the ocean. We are fiercely competitive at Five Crowns and The Fishbowl Game. Our shoulders sparkle with dried, Atlantic salt. We find sand in unexpected places. We could write an encyclopedia of inside jokes at the end of each summer, but sometimes forget how they originated.

We welcome, we nurture, we work hard and together. We keep the dream going for another year and another year and another year, thinking it’s getting easier until something hard happens. And then we remind ourselves that despite occasional stress fractures, it’s possible to heal, and our house has good bones.

Cozy Posts

Morning Pumpkins!

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 · Nostalgic Posts

The Gathering Place

I sit on the porch of our family shore house listening to the morning symphony of foam flip flops shuffling along slate sidewalks to the boardwalk, the gentle rumbling of car engines in slow pursuit of good parking spaces, and the sweet-tuned gossip amongst the birds singing the breaking news of summer from the trees lining the street.

The breeze is cool and a cocktail of salty humidity clings to the furniture as the sun spotlights the modernized facelifts of our street’s once Victorian-style dollhouse homes.

I can usually see the ocean from this spot on the cozy wicker sofa, but the hedges around the porch have grown a little too accustomed to a casually untidy appearance which we can all pretty much relate to from living through a worldwide pandemic. I could use a trim as well but that can wait a while longer. These are those lazy, hazy, crazy days of… well you know, after all.

(The birds’ news reel plays on a loop).

I was too lazy to prepare the coffee this morning and didn’t want to wake anyone sleeping on the first floor with the bubbling gasps of the coffee pot. So instead, I gathered my laptop and headed out to the porch to sit in the breeze and be inspired by summer. Not too long after, I am joined by my cousin and her young son and demands for bubble time take priority. Wobbly iridescence floats heavily on the air and splash lands on the floorboards while the writing takes a rest.

Welcome distractions abound in this family-filled old house. These walls tell stories of use and love – of our own contained family history in this little shore town. The rooms are filled with laughter and conflicting TV volume preferences – with movie decision fatigue and lazy mornings sipping coffee. The scent memory of freshly baked Italian rolls and cinnamon sugar crumb cake permeate the dining room and waft up the stairs like a buttery apparition encouraging everyone to wake up in slow procession.

The memories of past experiences and loved ones long gone remain alive in this magical place, preserved like old time postcards in a frame. This house tells us stories and helps us write new ones. It makes us laugh till our bellies and our cheeks ache or even sometimes, till we pee “our” pants (IYKYK). It is where we have gathered for my whole life- where I got to know my family as a whole and I am so grateful for all that it gives us. We try our best to do right by it and keep the experiences going, even when it gets hard or we don’t have a clue what we are doing.

But now it is time to put away the laptop and enjoy the first day of summer – to bask in the salty breeze of the shore, with the only current task at hand of pondering when to head to the beach.