Skip to main content

A Cozy Day

Today the wind has been whipping around my little cottage. It's quite cold outside too. The beach calls me to come for a walk but even if I wear my Hot Chillies under my jeans, don cashmere socks and hiking boots, layer a silk tee with a cashmere turtleneck sweater under my leather jacket and put on a scarf, gloves and flap hat I think it will be brutal. No, today is a day for hunkering down.

I think that I'll make soup. That'll do it. I have kale, parsnips, carrots, shallots and a little touch of garlic to put in it... And I'll nap. I'm not a napper, and I say this as I force myself from dozing at this very computer in order to complete this sentence (My hungry mind just hates to turn off).  I should give myself permission to rest when my body is calling out for it, especially in a place like this.

It's completely quiet, comfortable, uncluttered. It's decorated for comfort in soothing tans, navy and white solids. There's abundant pillows, foot rests, comforters and fleece throws. Just the right lighting due to dimers and shades that adjust from top or bottom. And that living water at eye level right off my porch... today I watched the tide come in --choppy and whipped up across the basin out to sea -- and for the last hour have been delighted to see the beach reappear and grow longer every time I glance up from my work as it recedes.

I had the gym and the grocery store on my list today, but I look up and see it's already 7 PM and the sun is starting to set on the water. I think the nap wins (meaning a 10 minute doze). I'll let the wind gently rattling the window frames lull me.

It's whispering: Just shut your eyes. Give in.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Excerpts from Notes from Paris: A Work in Progress, Part One

When I turned 30, I went to Paris for the first time, under circumstances far from what I'd envisioned when, sprawled across my bed as a teenager, I dreamt up a romantic vision of my adult life that included going there. But... I went, and it felt like home from the moment the plane wheels met the tarmac at Orly.  Soon after, I made a decision to put all my spare hours into  writing, to see what was there. Though I had written almost every day since I was 10, I wanted to try my hand at all it's forms in a disciplined way, and set the stage to discover once and for all if it was my calling.    I was living in Hollywood then and so ripe to leave, but I had a few commitments there, keeping me from a wish to move to New York. To cope, I began to go to Paris on a regular basis, even rented an apartment for the span that a long-stay visa would allow (6 months), to see where it took me. By the time I arrived, unexpected developments caused me to cut that plan short. But ...
4 comments
Read more

Paris Was Burning

Yesterday was a BIG day.  I finally opened an air-tight box which contained my few, most prized journals, wrapped in acid free paper, stored for over a decade.  Ten years! I hadn't realized it had been that long. While there are many things of far greater monetary value, nothing compares to how precious these journals are to me. Their pages contain my raw experiences, captured in the moment, as I did the rare thing of living a long held dream -- a dream that ended up surpassing even my wildest hopes and imaginings: spending four weeks by myself in Paris, in an apartment I rented, just writing, reading, eating, observing, listening and walking at all hours, as I pleased.  Twenty five years later, I decided to finally turn those journals into something polished - for myself at least, to publish at best. It was a bucket list item for me as a writer - but in that highest category of things you must do to leave this world without regret. In 2013 took them with me when I rented...
Post a Comment
Read more

Little Things That Last

When I butter toast, I almost always think of John K, who once came to visit and put his buttered toast back in the machine for a little last heat. It came out sizzling and bubbly butter, chewy and delicious. While I don't always re-toast mine once buttered, I always think of him.  And I wonder if he realizes that such a tiny moment for all we've done together over the years would revisit me like that, so many a morning. My pal Colleen had me over for dinner when I lived in California. She was pregnant and making one of her super healthy dinners.... And while I'd made asparagus many times, she said, "Look, instead of cutting of the bottoms before steaming, you just run your thumb up the stalk until it snaps naturally."  In that moment I learned that the asparagus itself will let you know the point where the tough becomes tender.  Now I grow asparagus and as I snap them off from the ground, or take them from where I store them to cook, I think of Colleen -I can s...
Post a Comment
Read more