Tag: writing

Cozy Posts · Nostalgic Posts · Travel

Thank You, New York City

Beth DeFries2 Comments

New York City on a sweltering evening evokes a sense of truth and camaraderie that isn’t always evident in the city’s boroughs. In the heat, the city’s truest self emerges from its facade of splendor and grit, too warm to layer on the wanderlust a minute longer. It cranks up the AC, adopts a loose, languid appearance that is just enough to scrape by as presentable, and just tries to find the breathable oxygen amid the auto exhaust and amalgam of aromas and stenches permeating the air. Top notch cooking scents waft out of restaurant after restaurant on 9th Ave, quickly melding with baked trash at the curb, only to be sweetened by a hint of perfume speed walking past or a trail of wholesome sunscreen fumes.

As the city sweats, its residents pour outside and sweat with it. They plod the radiating sidewalks to and from work, home, and leisure activities. They dodge steam vents on street corners, waiting off the curb to cross before the walk sign illuminates. They’re wary of darting critters on garbage collection eve as the rooftops across the Hudson tug the sun lower and lower.

Last night, I went in to meet some friends for dinner and, having arrived early, took to winding my way through Hell’s Kitchen in the heat. It was ninety-four degrees and felt over a hundred on the long stretches between avenues where the cross-breezes were blocked by neat rows of buildings.

I popped into Deacon Brodie’s tavern on restaurant row to cool down in the dark and ordered a crispy, cold Modelo which I sipped as I tried not to puddle too much on the leather-upholstered bench where I sat. As my brain simmered, the understanding dawned on me that everyone seated in the bar had most certainly walked in drenched as well and after that, I melted freely and unnoticed.

My brain wandered through memories of past summer days and nights on auto-pilot as it used to when I lived in Brooklyn, navigating by the internal compass that every New York resident develops in order to get by. North, South, East, West. Uptown, Downtown, Brooklyn, Manhattan, etc. It’s the kind of auto-pilot that used to get me to the L platform after work in the heat of July and August without remembering the two-street-spanning underground walk from the 1. Most of my attention usually went into wondering what the real-feel temperature was in the station. 110F? 120F? In the words of my late nana, “Does anybody have a meat thermometer? I want to know when I’m done.”

The nostalgia was strong yesterday as I cooled down in what looked like a miniature version of our old local, Harefield Road, which we decided was still our local when we moved about a mile away from it back when we still lived in Brooklyn. We did that because, in a city as everchanging as New York, if you don’t treasure the things you love, they tend to disappear. In our experience, after too long, doors that once opened to a place that made the city feel more like home, were found chained or covered with paper, sometimes pasted with orange tax evasion signs, or sometimes with a note from the former owners thanking their loyal customers for a good run.

I shook the nostalgia from mind as my friend Katherine walked in, showing she’d gotten my text about being early and where I’d decided to wait out the time till dinner. Katherine is one of a few very good friends who stuck from my time working in New York in my twenties. When I moved to New York, I felt a strong need to make friends of my own, as grateful as I was for Mike and the people who I saw as “his friends” at the time, though they are mine too now. The most obvious place to make friends was through work.

My process was to throw my personality at the wall (the wall being co-workers and acquaintances) and see what stuck. As the years have gone on, I am sad to be on the other side of learning that some friendships don’t stick like others. Whether it’s a general lack of initiative to coordinate or attend that happy hour or draft that text or email, or fail to get a regular catch-up going, friendships end up slipping through the cracks. I often wonder how friends, who I haven’t seen in a while, are doing. I try not to wonder if they’d still classify me as a friend or if they have a metaphorical sign posted on a metaphorical locked door somewhere. Thank you. We had a good run. I’ve grown up a little every year and with growth comes understanding, be it bitter or sweet. I can walk away with memories of good times past, content enough.

I am especially grateful for the sticky friendships though, the people who willingly catch up with me regularly, who care to know what I’m up to, what I’m struggling with, and what’s going well. They bolster and share their own experiences and goals and I am happy to be part of that. From talking to people among my New York circle over the years, a sense of isolation and overwhelm seems to be a common experience for the city’s new arrivals. I am happy to have overcome that in my own experience and to be someone who helps fill out other people’s New York community.

Analisa filtered in next and we headed around the corner to dinner at Elephant Ear and were seated, acceptable enough in our stickiness, that all too familiar residue of New York City heat and pondered the spiciness of the Thai menu items as we waited for our cold drinks.

Ashley came last and the gang was back together again, giving the latest updates for the month, not needing to do the whole “So, what’s new with you?” opener because we’ve seen each other recently enough to have that bit covered. The thing that was new, however, was the temperature, the drastic transition from the east coast’s bitter winter to an abbreviated spring, only to be thrust into August in the middle of May. Oh goodness gracious me.

After dinner, we parted ways and I headed to Bryant Park to meet up with Mike. I entered on the corner of 42nd and 6th and suddenly felt like I was in my twenties again. The lawn was dotted with people sitting on picnic blankets, hoodies, and beach towels. The cafe tables lining the gravel path around the grass were occupied with friends chatting and lounging in the slightly cooled after-dark temperatures. Readers were immersed in their books which lay open on their laps or in the grass. And patrons of the outdoor bars sipped, snacked, and conversated.

Bryant Park Lawn

A hot evening in Bryant Park is a guaranteed time machine for me back to fond memories of my early days in the city. Meandering the paths with Mike. Listening to a live band playing. Strategists taking chess too seriously. The library, up-lit and impressive, sheathing its collection of knowledge, history, and adventure within. When the heat becomes more palatable after sunset, you can’t help but love such a place. At least, that’s how it is for me.

If you ever get to experience the magic yourself, I hope you won’t take it for granted. Just sweat and let your mind unwind. You can’t fight the grimy residue and really, it’s part of the experience anyway. Only when you are seasoned with salt and damp with sweat do you become part of the tableau for everyone else, worthy of such a unifying experience with the people around you, the New Yorkers who call the city home and the visitors who spend their time and money to make the trip there happen, perhaps only once in their lifetime.

So, this one’s for New York in the heat, for the loveable beast of a city that I once called home. For the place that pulls on my heartstrings in moments when I least expect it. For the place that reminds me how who I was and where I lived helped to make me the person that I’ve become. So, thank you, New York City. We had a good run.

Cozy Posts

Marvelous

Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

It’s a slow Saturday here in our corner of the world. Breakfast’s been had and tea after that. Our pajamas have turned into our actual outfits by this point and there is little planned for the rest of the day other than to prep for some visitors later on.

I am clicking through Paris on Google Maps, acquainting myself with the city for a trip that’s still a ways off, but will surely have come and gone before I am ready to be done with it.

The neighborhoods swirl clockwise from the city’s center like a snail’s shell in mint and white shapes, each one dotted with landmarks. Le Louvre with its pyramid and crowded galleries. La Conciergerie and Place de la Concorde with their revolutionary significance. La Tour Eiffel glittering in the blue night. Montmartre glowing at the feet of Le Sacre Coeur. C’est très merveilleux, n’est-ce pas?

We cannot see it all at once and so the planning ahead is necessary. We must pick and choose our favorites. It’s so difficult, but in that is the challenge, the fun, the stakes.

Outside, the ocean’s a murky sort of seafoam, dotted with a heaping serving of white sprinkles, under an overcast sky. It’s my perfect writing weather and so I thought I’d do just that.

Just outside, the naked rose of Sharon braces against the breeze, stewing in envy of the nearby trees with their branches clad in bunches of youthful green.

Mike’s playing Noah Kahan’s new album and I’m drinking in the melodies like lazy sips of cool lemonade on an August day.

The posts here have been few and far between these days. I’m sorry if you’ve noticed and had hoped for more. I’ve been getting happily lost in fiction writing instead, wandering into stories that don’t have endings yet until they do, meeting strangers that become important people in my life, creating my own simulated versions of reality from my little desk.

Since quitting coffee over a year ago, I’ve felt less of an impulse to share the personal stuff. I like the quiet in my head, the space to create and rationalize, to come to terms with the thoughts that have slowed from a race to a brisk walk. I am happy despite some chaos this year. I accept myself as I am and all that comes with that and there is more peace in that simple act than I would have ever imagined. I wish that acceptance for everyone.

I hope that once you finish reading this, you reflect on the miracle of your mere existence and make whatever you like of it in a positive way, whether it’s the most, good enough, or the bare minimum. Just know that you are marvelous, whatever you choose, and for you, I am grateful.

Cozy Posts

In Like a Lion

Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

Bonjour, mes amis! It’s March and today just seemed like a good day to write a blog post. I have no idea where this particular post is going yet, so just bear with me and we’ll meander on the screen together. How’s that sound?

Like crickets.

Ok. Good! Allons-y! What’re we waiting for?

Life’s been a little stressful lately, but nothing we can’t handle with little tiny baby steps, day by day. The temperatures here in our corner of the world dipped into low single digits a few weeks back and let’s just say the pipes at my family’s home and rental property down the shore didn’t fare so well. That’ll be a story for another day though, once I can draft a worthy intro, unlike that in today’s post, and once I can process the whole experience and all that’s been in the works since, amid a reconstructed setting.

Today’s a morning for decaf Earl Grey in my favorite mug, a big little thing that’s helping me keep sane amid the upheaval of the past few weeks. Writing has been another salvation, when I get the time for it, and reading, of course. I’m crawling through Maeve Binchy’s Circle of Friends and having a lovely time of it, with Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere on deck.

I’m wrapped up in a big fuzzy, brown sweater today and my most comfortable blue jeans, my cross between Hagrid energy and power outfit for the day, with a big splash of cozy. I feel tired already and there’s a good chance I’ll fall asleep on the couch at 9 pm yet again, in exactly what I’m wearing, too warm and cozy under the sherpa fleece pumpkin blanket that Danielle and Corey gave me for my birthday a few years back now, so there’s that to look forward to… What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, as the saying goes, and also makes you inexplicably sleepy, apparently.

We change the clocks this weekend and the days are getting lighter for longer. Spring is on the horizon and, with it, warmth and progress. I’m looking forward to some travel this month, to white sand and turquoise waters, to good music and a reunion with a goddess, but more on those adventures to come.

In the meantime, stay sane, stay warm, and find a little moment of happiness in today. 💖

Books · Cozy Posts · Health & Lifestyle · Mental Health · Reviews & Reflections

In Pursuit of Living Well

Beth DeFries5 Comments

It’s January once again, friends. The treadmills at the gym are more populated than usual, the temperatures outside are biting and sharp, and the potholes are expanding into craters with each new round of salt and snow.

The December electric bill revealed a number that I was shocked to see, so I’m choosing to live in fleece, chunky sweaters, thermal leggings, and wool socks regularly, to keep the cold at bay and the thermostat a little less high. I boil the kettle a few times a day and bundle up for brisk walks through the park or to the library.

In 2025, our resolution was to travel somewhere different every month and that was fun and a little bit intimidating at the onset, to be entirely honest. We actually managed it though, something I was skeptical would happen if you talked to me this time last year. These trips have enriched our lives and fueled our sense of adventure, though I’m not itching to go anywhere else just yet. The break from constant trip planning and booking and financing is a welcome one. I’m sure I’ll be desperate for some journey sometime soon, but for now, I’ll take the calm with gratitude.

2025 was a year of trying new things, of starting from square one, and of pursuing my creative goals with more focus and intention. The act of writing my January Postcard on this same day last year served as a major catalyst for this switch in my creative approach. Here’s hoping this post leads me to as much motivation as that one did.

I read a few books this year that helped me improve my productivity, nutrition comprehension, and relationships. I am grateful to have come across these books and to the library for having them. I’d recommend them all: Atomic Habits by James Clear, Eat, Drink, and Be Healthy, The Harvard Medical School Guide to Healthy Eating by Walter C. Willett, and The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman, particularly this last one which really had me reflecting on all of the relationships in my life as I read, from that with my husband to that with my family members, my friends, etc. I think that it is extremely important to be conscious of how the people that you love best receive love.

Coffee has not been a part of my diet since mid-April and I’m really proud of myself for this. This is the longest I’ve gone without coffee since before I started drinking it my sophomore year of college. I don’t miss the impulsiveness, the anxiety, and the aggression that accompanied the habit, for me. Whenever I hear a car honking at someone on the road these days, I think, “Somebody hasn’t had their coffee.” No, I don’t miss that agitation for myself one bit.

I haven’t set a resolution for this year yet. Perhaps I’ll aim to be more mindful, to be intentional with what I consume, and to be better at recognizing all the little things that are good rather than all the little things that are bad. I don’t know if a negative bias can be flipped, but I am going to actively try. In broad terms, my resolution is to live well, for myself and for those around me and to not take away from them living well. I will read plenty and write plenty because it gives me a sense of purpose and fulfillment which leads to more happy days. I will spend time in the company of the people who I love and I will be present and grateful.

I hope you are all reading this somewhere warm and pleasant, whether it is at home, in your office, or on your phone. Wherever you are, I challenge you to internalize three things that are good today, as you are, no matter how big or small. Two for me are writing this post and knowing that some of you are reading it. Thank you for being you and for being part of this cozy community. Cheers to all that 2026 has in store for us, the ups, the downs, the learning moments, the successes, and the failures to balance them out and make the good moments really shine. Wherever you are and whatever you do, I hope you are living well. Thanks for reading!

Cozy Posts

Stormy October Morning

Beth DeFries1 Comment

Hello, dear readers, dear friends. It’s been a little while since I’ve written here and I thought I’d draft a snippet of a picture for you all of a cozy, little morning on this stormy, October day. I invite you to bundle up in a big, comfy sweatshirt or a warm sweater and imagine yourselves drinking something rising with swirls of steam that warm your cheeks, the ceramic of your mug pleasantly hot against your palms and fingers as you join me on the big, blue couch. Help yourself to a squashy pillow for your back or a warm throw for your lap. Kick off those shoes, put your feet up, and get yourselves nice and comfy.

The wind howls outside and the waves of the Atlantic are churned, abundant with choppy white. The branches of the trees dance, the fragile leaves rustle, and the seagrass bows with the occasional strong gust. The bones of our home creak with each brace against the elements, sheltering us well from the storm as we look on from our perch, set high in the hill.

Inside, the lamps are glowing, casting little pools of gold in the corners of the room. The curtains are open to take in the view of the gray, blustery day outside- a Nor’Easter, in fact, a storm not bad enough to have a name, but a storm no less.

I taste the faint hint of orange peel in my tea and savor the lingering warmth from a hearty breakfast of steel cut oats with peanut butter and maple syrup. Soon it’ll be time to reheat the kettle. Would you care for a cup? Tea, hot cocoa, coffee perhaps? How do you take it? Milk? Sugar? Cinnamon?

Today calls for reading, don’t you think, something inviting and adventurous. I’ll pick a book or maybe two from the wooden shelf stocked with favorite reads, family photos, handmade pumpkins, and the little, wooden chess board that my dad made. Where shall we venture today, friends? I’m favoring a visit to the Burrow, myself, I think. I slide Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets off the shelf and flip to page 32 for a healthy little dose of cozy.

I’m a skip ahead-er when it comes to my favorites, finding the scenes that evoke a sense of comfort for me. Any other skip ahead-ers here with me on the big blue couch this morning? What are you reading today? Where are you off to in the imaginary world? Who are you off to see? To meet?

The rain drip, drip, drips from the door overhang outside and the neighbor’s coffee pot bubbles next door. I still miss the sound in my own kitchen some days.

I imagine the deer, who often visit, sheltered from the wind this morning, huddled and warm somewhere beneath a colorful arbor of branches, enjoying a breakfast feast of lingering greenery and late blooming flowers, undisturbed by people.

I’m headed to the Shire next to savor some peaceful nature, myself. It feels like a good time to pay another visit to a merry band of sweet, brave hobbits I’m acquainted with as they embark on an adventure that I’m absolutely certain will be bigger than four little hobbits could ever possibly anticipate, while somehow being just the right size, all the same.

You are welcome to linger as long as you like. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be nestled over here in the crook of the long, cozy seat of the big, blue couch with some squashy pillows for company, wandering another world for little whiles at a time.

Books · Cozy Posts · Travel

Monday Observations

Beth DeFries4 Comments

I’ve been waiting for a cool, gray day where the seagrass sways and the rose of Sharon bows in the damp and the breeze. The curtains billow at the open windows, faithful spectrals awaiting loves long lost at sea. Come back to me, they whisper, unanswered. I don’t have the heart to tell them.

The ocean’s an unraveled bolt of fabric, pre-hemmed with white and ready to cut, too unwieldy for the machine, too expansive for the hand, destined to sit on the shelf, admired and fading, to inspire projects too elaborate for fruition, aspirations never addressed, dreams destined to remain unrealized.

A freighter snails its way along the horizon line, containers catching the view from the highest stack. “Bon voyage, mes amis!” je dis, “Et merci pour votre service!” I’ve been practicing my French again. Montreal’s this week et je suis un peu rouillée, j’ai peur.

I write at the window, sipping Earl Grey without caffeine, feeling the lack of coffee today, but that’s ok. We cut our demons for a reason, right? We feel the lack of them sometimes, but we must carry on. The golden glow of the table lamps helps to fill the void left behind by coffee’s lack. I savor over-steeped bergamot instead, robust and resonant in flavor. I warm my cheeks, my hands in swirls of steam.

I’m feeling the doubt of sharing a long-form fiction project with a handful of friends a couple of weeks ago now, doubt being my greatest talent, or at least sometimes that’s how it feels. I bolster myself. Have courage; it’s there somewhere inside your head, in your heart, in your gut. Be proud of your words, that collage of letters, chapters, characters built in your mind. You love them and they deserve the chance to be read.

It’s Monday and I’m getting excited for the new adventures this week will bring, the sights and smells and tastes and sounds of a place I’ve never set foot in before. This week, I also anticipate finishing reading a series that I’ve been reading for over a year now.

I went to forty-sixth and second in New York. They sell roses at the market on the corner across from Dag Hammarskjöld Plaza. There is no turtle in the fountain, but the fountain is there and I wondered if anyone has reached the tower sitting there in that little urban oasis, tucked away from the fray, somehow in another world. In. Mid. End. Keystone. There’s just one thing left to do. Read. And then I’ll know what it was all for, this journey, this year. And when I’m done, I’ll buy a rose from the market and I’ll leave it on a bench for another adventurer to wonder at. For what is life without wonder? What is life without intrigue and imagination?

Nostalgic Posts · Poetry

The Adventurers

Beth DeFries1 Comment

We live for adventure, you and I.

We live for it here,

for each step, each breath, each song

sung along to in the kitchen, the shower, the hallway,

doing laundry and dishes that have to be done.

Life is a beautiful mess with you.

The mess just means we’re living.

We wear out our shoes and our jeans,

our socks and our old tee shirts.

There’s sand in the bath, hair on the sinks, and trash in the waste baskets.

We live and it shows.

It sounds and it looks and it smells like us here,

as it should,

as we’d live it.

We crave the smiles and expressions,

the weekend mornings spent lounging,

reading books and articles,

watching shows and “content” and DVDs,

playing games about planes,

even booking tickets on real ones, every so often.

We capture little moments throughout the day

and keep the ones that stick to make us smile later on.

We savor quiet nights, cooking aromas, and sampled tastes,

the smell of sunscreen and oatmeal in the mornings,

cold cream, soap, and toothpaste at the end of the day.

We capture visions from hilltops, from mountains, 

climbing up the little bumps on the world

to soothe our hunger to explore.

We store them in our heads and in pictures,

file them away for use in our dreams, our memories.

We make shadows in the sun,

heat at our backs, giants on pavement, 

their footsteps synchronized with our own,

tagging along on our meandering journey.

We set our sights on now and tomorrow and the next day, 

only looking far ahead when it’s practical to

which, let’s face it,

you do for the both of us, oftentimes.

We are an amateur cover band with no audience, 

singing bluegrass, indie, rock, and pop

to the tiles, the walls, the car windows.

We are background noise you only get on the hundredth listen,

wandering a broad and varying soundscape.

The music is often on, it seems,

but sometimes there’s silence and we like that too.

There’s sleep 

and days full of nothing

but sitting with you on the big blue couch

in this place where we live for the adventure that’s living,

in this place where we live,

you and I.

Mental Health · Poetry · Social Media · Travel

On Crickets and Fireflies

Beth DeFries3 Comments

I was reminded last week, by some truly lovely friends, that a handful of people actually read this. They brought up that I’ve been “pretty quiet over there” for a while. I was surprised that anybody noticed, to tell you the truth. I’ve been a little blocked with the personal stuff lately, see, or maybe just a little more reluctant to share for worry that people aren’t interested because that’s how it seems when you send personal writing out into the world and get crickets back. It’s pretty quiet from where I sit too sometimes. That’s just part of the process though, I tell myself. If people want to engage, they will. If they don’t, they won’t and that’s just fine. I need the outlet either way sometimes, the one way radio, so to speak.

The inspiration for the stuff that seems to do well with my readers on here, whom I don’t actually know- poetry (which still surprises me) dried up soon after I nixed coffee over two months back, which I don’t really understand, other than to know that I’ve never felt more emotionally stable than I do these days. Wouldn’t it be nice if the urge to write some rhymes or freeform comes back and I get to keep this nice, calm brain? Is life that good? I sure hope so.

It’s been hot here in NJ for the past few days after feeling like March for weeks beforehand. I was tired of the rain and the cold, but I wouldn’t mind if the cool, stormy weather came calling again, looking for a place to crash after a flight delay.

We took a trip to Miramar Beach, FL this month. I didn’t write about it and I probably won’t beyond this. It was restful and fun with a lot of family time that made me smile and a few dips in the turquoise Gulf that’ll have me missing that beautiful, warm water with each icy plunge into the Atlantic this summer.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I was lucky enough to see some really wonderful friends last week, then some more later in the week, one of whom I hadn’t caught up with in many years. I’m pretty terrible at keeping in touch, it turns out, other than writing here and even that’s not been so good lately. I don’t even use social media anymore. It felt too inauthentic, the line between “friends” and strangers too blurred.

When I’m with my people face to face, I try to make up for lost time. It’s always so refreshing to see a familiar face, to hear their laugh or tone of voice, or to catch the unique little mannerisms or humor that make my loved ones who they are. It’s like watching fireflies in the indigo night, little blips of brilliance that transform the dark to magic.

I hope you are all happy and staying cool and thank you, as always, for reading. And thank you, Jean, for calling me out. I needed it. 💖

Books · Cozy Posts · Health & Lifestyle · Travel

May Postcard

Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

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

Creative Process

Beth DeFries1 Comment

I’m listening to Vampire Weekend’s “Only God Was Above Us” studio album this morning in search of some spark that’ll illuminate a handful of half decent words to string together. I haven’t written in a few days and I think there might be a little rust underneath the snow of this particular page. Forgive me if it bleeds through.

April’s been wet and the drains are backlogged and working overtime. The car appears to be covered in one word in particular- a fuzzy, yellow, sneezy one called pollen and that means spring is actually here whether the weather’s gotten the memo or not. There’s some green machine projecting a droning hum somewhere outside. I set some “Prep School Gangsters” on it to scare it off.

Maybe today’s a good day to hunt down some magnolia blooms and cherry blossoms. Cloudy days make colors pop and the green will be speckling sparse branches, like pointillistic optimism. A little fresh air could be just what my brain’s looking for to get the juices flowing. I’ll take my music with me on a drive, inviting my Vampires into New Jersey, to aid me in sucking up a little of the inspiration that my surroundings never fail to provide.

Someone told me last week that they once heard New Jersey described as “the armpit of America”. I’m not a good person to say this sort of thing to. Besides, I like to think of it more as the sassy hip, but hey; I’ll let people think what they want and maybe it’ll keep the crowds down on the beaches this summer. I throw “Mary Boone” on, feeling love for my bullied state. You could do a lot worse, if you ask me.

I’m looking forward to the temperatures warming up, to the windsurfer’s kite sails floating like low, neon clouds above the shallow white caps of cresting waves. I’m looking forward to bursting green, to when the trees turn from windows to walls, and the little yellow warblers go flitting into tangled brambles, unscratched. I’m ready to unbundle and feel the breeze on my arms. Soon. Patience.

I’ve jumped to “Connect”. This one makes me think of people driving cars in old movies, you know, the ones where you see an open top convertible winding its way along some picturesque, coastal road on the side of a mountain and a graceful woman sits in the passenger seat wearing lipstick and a silk scarf around her hair that both come across gray in the absence of technicolor. I wonder what colors are preventing her fly-aways and staining her lips and getting her from A to B. It doesn’t really matter, I suppose, but it’s fun to think about. If my brain didn’t work this way, maybe I’d get more done, but then I wouldn’t really be me.

I’ll leave you with that image while I hitch a ride on this imagined adventure. I have a feeling it’ll lead somewhere interesting. I hop into the backseat of the convertible and see the leather upholstery is cream with tan stitching and the car’s gleaming cherry red hood sparkles in the sunlight and curves so smoothly you could slide right off it. There is a blue and periwinkle body of water on our right and the mountainside is freckled with grass, poppies, and miniature wildflowers in shades of orange, purple, and goldenrod. The air smells clean and sweet, a little like the Chanel No. 5 eau de parfum that my nana used to wear.

The woman turns back to greet me with a Hollywood smile and I see her lipstick is an orange shade of red. Her eyes are a warm brown, lighter than mine. Her scarf is optic white, edged with gold and blooming with ornate, silk-screened flowers in rich magenta and royal blue. Her hair is black where it is neatly swirled at the nape of her neck, and I see it is flecked with red when she turns back to look at the view. I don’t ask where we’re headed. I’ll see for myself soon enough. I feel excitement in my bones, a lightness in my chest and a smile on my cheeks. I hold down my hair in an effort to prevent a mess. Who am I kidding though? The mess is part of the adventure.