I don’t know the exact reason for my current state of contentedness. Spending an hour giving myself a manicure. Getting the laundry done and waiting a day to fold it. Alan on the porch putting new tires on his bike. Meeting our new neighbor while I was downstairs watching him ride it. Saying hello to her while shielding my eyes from the 11am sun. The warm breeze. Her name is Pippa, can you even believe that? Tulips we got from the farmers market this morning that look like lilies upon blooming (on our way home mind you, in front of my very eyes!). The coffee we got from our friend Rachael’s butcher shop that I’m still drinking 3 hours later.
Take a deep breath, in through your nose, out through mouth. That feeling? I’ve had it all week. A steady state of exhale, it’s all okay. It’s been epically slow at the restaurant. Strange considering that usually by March we’ve picked up again after the January slump of post-holiday penny pinching. I habitually drafted in my head a text to everyone in my phone, “do you know of anyone in need of an assistant?” But something in me absolutely refuses to be bothered. I’ve been here. A hundred times. Worried about how it will ever work out. How can I change it? Fix it? Find something new? And still. Here I am. In the precious apartment I share with the love of my life writing to you for the 33rd week in a row. I am happy.
I’m looking at Larry, our dead mini Christmas tree. Usually he lays on his side out on the porch, empty sparkling water can adorning his top branch like a star. It takes only a gentle breeze to knock him over so he perpetually naps now. The carpenter bees are busy bobbing through the air looking like chubby little babies. And the hornets have returned rendering it impossible for me to check the mail during the day. They guard it like dogs, last summer I was dive bombed and stung on the wrist trying to retrieve a letter.
I’ve said several times over the past month that “presence is overrated” like I’ve really figured something out. Uncovered some new wisdom. My desires for the future and nostalgia for the past are what infuse my life with excitement and wrap me in cozy memories. But this week it’s been the smooshy warmth of just existing. Breathing and taking everything in. Watching the leaves of my Pothos, a plant I’ve propagated a thousand times since I first brought a clipping of it home to my mother from my second grade teacher, wobble with each letter I type. She keeps me company at my kitchen nook-dining room table-writing desk.
Here is a dramatic interpretation of the plant leaves wobbling:
I haven’t been journaling or meditating much this year. Often the thought crosses my mind, sounds amazing and then moves on before I get to it. Even napping hasn’t enticed me like it used to. I want to borrow my mom’s sewing machine and recreate the pair of pajama pants I’ve loved for ten years that finally disintegrated into assless trash last week while I was wearing them. I want to make bread. Mary Lou, my starter, lives permanently on the counter lately. I’ve been fermenting my loaves for longer, trying new recipes, becoming more and more obsessed with each floury creation. I want to be awake, using my hands and moving around in the world. Blooming. That damn Spring metaphor again.
Last week I got a wave of bashful shame about what I’ve been posting for my weekly essays. Because I’ve been spending so much time making podcasts and videos, I haven’t been giving myself enough space to calmly sit down and write. Today is Saturday, you’re reading this on Monday, it’s had time, like my breads, to rest and grow. A deep breath. I like it this way so much better. Starting something before it feels like I should. What a revelation.
When I made the decision to stay in Atlanta three years ago, I learned what ‘right’ feels like. After weeks of back and forth on whether or not to take a big job, I kept returning to the calm that enveloped my whole body when I thought about forgoing it for home. It didn’t feel forced or full of turmoil. It felt so warm and calm and easy that I kept trying to talk myself out of it. I didn’t believe that the ‘right’ decision could feel like such a relief, I thought it had to come with struggle and strife. Considering how relaxed and fulfilled I am now, I’m starting to see that trusting that warm feeling of ‘right’ is what made all the difference. And, after a beautiful week of wondering why I feel so settled, I’ll credit that trust in the smoosh as the reason.
READING
This week, only Substacks. I’m subscribed to so many, I’m kept busy.
WATCHING
Alan has jumped on the nostalgia bandwagon by streaming old episodes of Home Improvement and I watched the HBO doc, Quiet on Set, about the terrible traumas the child stars of Nickelodeon endured. Can’t say it’s made anything with child stars (see: Home Improvement) all that easy to enjoy…
LISTENING
May I suggest my latest podcast with Alan that premiered Friday?
Happy April! We have so many plans for this month but are most excited for our second Deejay’s dinner. Alan is busy finalizing the menu and I am planning my next cooking video as a practice round for the dessert I’ll be serving. Chocolate pudding. That video will be out the second week of this month.
I hope you had a lovely weekend and have an even lovelier week. I hope no one gets stung by any hornets, it’s the only terror Spring brings…besides the swollen sinuses.
xoxo.
Swoosh! Great way to start the week and that boy was a great podcast guest! :)