“You silly little girl, you think you’ve survived so long that survival shouldn’t hurt anymore.
You keep trying to turn your body bullet proof.
You keep trying to turn your heart a bomb shelter.
You silly thing. You are soft and alive.
You bruise and heal.
Cherish it. It is what you were born to do.”
There’s been a common theme amongst my friends lately, and it’s one I can also relate to: feeling depleted. As women, friends, wives and especially mothers we give and we give. What I’ve been hearing from my friends is that they’re having to be very intentional about caring for themselves, or they’re finding themselves feeling more like a shell than a full person. These conversations have got me thinking about how I replenish myself during times of stress, conflict, confrontation, over-working (very present issues in my life as of late).
One friend who just returned from a long family vacation with her in-laws said that before she left for her trip she thought hard about what would really provide “vacation” on her trip. She decided she wanted to walk every day and eat fruit. Her family around her ate junk food and lazed around (which very well could have been filling their tanks for them – we’re all different), but my friend stuck to her plan. Not only did she come home tan, she came home clear-headed. I so admire the conscientiousness with which she approached her trip and how she truly made it into a vacation for herself. Traveling with two kids and many extended family members can be stressful, but with your focus on the the things that make you feel rejuvenated (focus on yourself), everyone is taken care of. Fruit and walks. Easy peasy.
Another friend remarked to me that she was feeling like an emotional and physical wreck. I could relate. Summer has a way of putting you through the wringer and I could tell my friend was feeling as though the current was a tad too strong. But I know my friend well. I know she loves to write and that when she’s writing, she’s more connected to herself. I know she loves naps and that when she gets them, she feels taken care of.
I think we all need reminders of the small acts that balance the scales when they’re tipped too far toward “everyone else”. My friend said to me “Sometimes I don’t exercise because there’s too much laundry to do, or because I feel guilty and want to spend time with my kids. And it might sound selfish but you’re really all you’ve got. You’ve got yourself and your health, and those things need to be priorities”. I think she was gently hinting about the amount of times I’ve bailed on going to yoga with her lately, but she’s just so very right. We need to be as high a priority as our families and our kids.
If I were to make a short list of the things that make me feel whole I would include the following:
* Alone time
* Waking up early to meditate
* Walking, especially with friends
* Yoga
Simple, easy, (mostly) free. Should be a no-brainer to weave them into life, but I have been doing exactly zero of those things lately. Well, aside from alone time. I am alone right now and it’s pretty glorious.
I am grateful to my friends for being a mirror, for reminding me to take care of them and to take care of myself. We’re in this together and if we remember that and remind each other to do the things that nourish us, it makes this whole life thing a whole lot easier.
Yesterday I looked at the calendar and yeeped at how close our trip to NYC is! Ben and I love Manhattan and try to make a trip out there as often as possible. We’ve missed the last two years in order to do family vacations, so I’m especially excited about our trip in October.
Our infatuation with NYC started with MY infatuation right after highschool. What highschooler doesn’t want to go to NYC? Well, when I met Ben at the tender age of 19 (I KNOW) I had it in my head that I wanted to take a trip to the big city. It didn’t happen right away, of course, but we did manage to scrape together enough pennies to go for my 21st birthday. We stayed in a youth hostel and learned very quickly that NYC is one expensive place, and probably not the best for two broke 21 year olds. One had just started her stint in AmeriCorps (me) and one was getting ready to graduate from college (him).
Three memories that stand out from that trip:
* Climbing the stairs from the subway for the first time and repeating “Oh my God” over and over as I was floored by the sheer size of the city. The buildings! So tall! The people! So many! The energy! So much!
* Dinner at 21 Club. I thought I was clever, getting us a reservation at 21 Club for my 21st birthday. Sadly, the whole experience was somewhat of a disappointment. They sat us side-by-side, which was weird, and at 21 I simply could not handle the fact that they dressed my steak’s plate with a bone marrow reduction. It was rough.
* Going to a bar after dinner and realizing that we couldn’t afford to get a buzz, let alone drunk (as you hope to get when you’re 21!). Drinks were $18/ea.! Unheard of!
The city really took us by surprise, but we were hooked.
On my 21st birthday
We waited a few years before going back.
Here’s a shot from our 2010 trip, the trip where we fell in love with Greenwich Village, we bought Henry’s rhino button-up shirt that I still have on a hanger (he was 2) and walked across the Williamsburg bridge:
Here we are in 2011, the trip we ate at some of the best restaurants of our lives, rode bikes in Central Park and realized after the fact that I had walked nearly 8 miles a day during that trip with a broken toe:
On that trip we also went to Sleep No More, which was so amazing. I keep trying to convince Ben we should do it again this trip, but he’s not budging.
If you find yourself in NYC ever, you MUST go to Sleep No More. Promise me.
Our upcoming trip has some fun elements planned:
First thing, we’re not staying in a hotel (or a hostel – ha!). We decided to go the Airbnb route this time and secured a sweet flat in the heart of Greenwich Village. How sweet is this place?
We were also lucky enough to score Book of Mormon tickets. It pays to book things far in advance! I’ve been wanting to see this show for a while now and we’ve tried to get tickets on our past two trips, so it should be great.
The last thing we have planned so far is attending the 5th annual Identia Golose dinner on the rooftop of Mario Batali’s Birreria at Eataly. Admittedly I’m not the most adventurous eater, but this opportunity was too exciting to pass up. A 7 course dinner hosted by Batali himself with 8 celebrity chefs. Should be a blast, even if I do leave hungry. 😉
And of course no trip to NYC would be complete without a visit to “our spot” – The Little Owl. We’re thrilled that our flat is walking distance from our very favorite restaurant in the city. Who knows? We might go twice!
Fun fact: The building that houses the restaurant is also the building from the show Friends. Look familiar? There are always people in the street taking pictures of the building while you eat.
So, any seasoned NYC travelers/residents out there with good tips for us? We’re always looking for new things to do and places to find amazing food, so give me a shout in the comments!
Henry has been away from us more this summer than any summer in the past. He spent a week in Vancouver with Ben’s side of the family and is now getting ready to leave again with my mom and Dave to head to the beach. I cherish the time alone, the quiet, the stillness. Breaks are okay, especially during stressful times, but it’s really hard to say goodbye.
To this boy, the one who owned my heart the second I laid eyes on his 5lb 11oz little body a whopping six years ago, I say:
Enjoy the beach, the kites, the love of your grandparents who adore you so. Come back to me with salt in your hair, sand in your shoes, a twinkle in your eye and endless stories to tell. I will be ready for you with renewed energy and patience and I will be more than ready to hop into your teeny little bed to ready Harry Potter.
I love you so, my boy. I’ve made a lot of art in my life and I can truly say that you are my favorite.
When we first toured our New Old House (someday I’ll tell the story of how we came to buy the New Old House – it was insane) I was enchanted by this small linoleum floored space in the basement near the back door. A mud room! How charming! I envisioned a padded bench with a place for shoes, could see in my mind’s eye wet umbrellas laying on the floor next to a pile of discarded rain boots. Hooks on the wall, maybe, for raincoats and backpacks. That room would be AMAZING, and useful and very Martha Stewart.
Here is that room at this very moment:
Glamorous, right? This is sort of the way it goes with me (and maybe you, too). I have a vision for a room (or a house) and I want it that way NOW. Not later, not in a month, not two weeks. Just now. Not too much to ask, right? Except it is. Where else would we keep the endlessly growing pile of cardboard if we didn’t have this space? See those raspberry colored carpet tiles on the left? Those are the disassembled Flor carpet we had in the Old Old House that was supposed to fit perfectly in the basement but didn’t. And the kitty litter box. Where was that supposed to go? Certainly not in the entry like it had to be at our Old Old House.
This room makes me crazy but I am simultaneously digging for gratitude. I have a place to keep kitty litter, cardboard, paint cans and a disassembled rug. Those things don’t have to live in my living room. I can find gratitude for that.
I think the big lesson here, and close friends/family will not be surprised to read this, is that I have very little patience for “settling in”. One of my closets friends had a mantra for me as we prepared to move: It doesn’t have to be perfect right away. I listened to her and was sure I’d be able to follow her advice (not really – I know myself better than that), but what I’m learning is that not only does it not have to be perfect right away, it simply CAN’T be. And maybe it never will be.
Maybe the cardboard room is a place I should look at more, to embrace the mess and the real utility of that room. Soon the cardboard will be out on the curb with the recycling, the carpet tiles will be sold or given to someone who will love them, the kitty litter replaced with a cat door. Maybe I will make that a mud room. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe the best plan is to just let that be a linoleum floored room. Plain, and simple, and there to temporarily house the things on their way out, with maybe a wet umbrella or pair of rain boots thrown in for good measure.
If I had to create a list of my favorite things in life, wine would be up at the very tip top. I love wine as a hobby, something to learn about and discover and something to sip with Ben and friends. It’s social, delicious, changes with the seasons and offers so much interest and complexity.
I get the majority of our wine from Garagiste, an amazing source I learned about from my friend Brooke. If you love wine and aren’t on the Garagiste email list, you should join. Right now. The rest of our wine comes from wine clubs with quarterly shipments. My dear friend Haley and I traveled to Napa last year and I may have indulged a bit too much and then joined a few too many wine clubs. Not necessarily a bad problem to have, although embarrassing when the UPS person shows up with 3 cases and a raised eyebrow. But now that our new house has wine storage in the basement (a mini cellar!) it’s less of an issue and we’re able to buy wines that need cellaring.
Tonight we’re sipping 2012 LE FEU Belluard, a Garagiste find.
After one sip I was hooked. Bright acidity, tons of minerality and a fair amount of fruit. 100 % Gringet (a grape I’d never heard of before – but admittedly I know very little about French wine). It’s delicious.
I purchased from Garagiste for $29.80 and am kicking myself for not buying at least a half case, especially when retailers are selling for around $45/bottle. This is a wine to take you all through summer, and this is how I’ll be drinking it tonight:
Ice, ice cold, baby.
More info on 2012 LE FEU Belluard here, and you can order here. Please do it. You’ll thank me later.
One of the first things that attracted me to our New Old House was the light. This should come as a surprise to no one, as light is kind of the obsession of my life. In my professional life I am always chasing the softest, most flattering light. In my everyday life I have a few set rules: no overhead lighting unless completely necessary (hello kitchen and bathroom). Also, lamps. Lots of them. Creating ambiance with light is essential for me. When I toured the New Old House there were no lights on, yet the space was filled with light. I was hooked. Now I’m realizing the light in here is really kind of magic as evidenced by these photos taken this morning.
Henry and cousin lounging on a couch with a cover removed because of a stain and in a living room with a floor littered with Legos. This is real life, people. Real. Life.
Light dancing across an unmade bed.
No caption necessary, is there?
No other placed I’d rather sleep.
For me, it really is all about the light. I’m so glad we found a place full of the good stuff.
“…And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer, a night so hot you can’t even wear a tee-shirt. And you try to sleep on top of the sheets instead of under them, although try to sleep is probably more accurate. And then at some point, late, late, late at night, say a bit just before dawn, the heat finally breaks and the night turns cool. And when you briefly wake up you notice you’re almost chilly, and in your groggy, half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you. And just that flimsy sheet makes it warm enough and you drift back off into a deep sleep.
And it’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex we have to pull up what’s warm – whether it’s something or someone – that feeling we get when we do that, that feeling of being safe in the world and ready for sleep: that’s happiness.”
-Unknown
We’ve been in our New Old Home for a whopping fifteen days, and to my surprise, I still feel like I’m house-sitting. I sit on the couch and my eyes wander from the kitchen, to the dining area, to the stairs (STAIRS!), to the bedroom. It’s all so new. And foreign. We lived in our Old Old Home for four years and it definitely took on that “worn in comfort” feel that I find myself pining for now. Henry went from being 2 ½ to 6 ½ in that house. He potty trained there. His personality blossomed there. Our new home doesn’t have any of “us” in it yet. Just pristinely painted walls, pretty finishes and lots of space. But no “us”.
Our Old Old Home was small, and not only because of the limited square footage. 1000 sq. ft isn’t much, but when you’ve got someone living above, below and beside you it can really feel like the walls are closing in. In spite of that, we loved that the windows boasted amazing views and the tight space created a lot of unintentional togetherness. We focused on the turquoise kitchen and how cozy the living room felt. We tuned out the neighbor noise as much as possible, lit candles in the Glassybabies and waited for the day that we’d have our own four walls.
I had a feeling, when we were buying our New Old Home, that I would miss the spacial intimacy between the three of us. Now that there’s room to roam, we, well… roam. Someone is upstairs. Someone is downstairs. Someone is somewhere else. There’s room to stretch, which we craved, but now I’m understanding that stretching is also uncomfortable. Ben comes home from work and if Henry and I are in certain places in the house, we can’t hear him. I can call for someone from the office and not be heard.
During our first few days in the New Old Home Henry was like my shadow. I went to the laundry room (LAUNDRY ROOM!) and he was right on my heels. He needed something from his bedroom? I was definitely going with him. Understandable, of course, as he’s a wee one and the house is more than he’s known before. But now he, like the cats, is venturing out and slowly experiencing the space on his own. Expansiveness. Something he’s never had in a home before.
My focus stays on the walls. What to hang there? How to make this room feel more like us or make that space feel less sparse. Buying a house is a very different adventure than creating a home, and the latter appears to be a long-term task.
Fifteen days in and I’m craving comfort. Craving familiarity. Craving home. Maybe I’ll bake, or hang a picture, or make the bed, or plan a housewarming party (would it work?). Maybe I’ll wander the neighborhood and soak in the reality that “this is ours now”. Or maybe I will just stay on the couch and feel this feeling of “hmm…”.
life in urban light 