“The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. ”
Less is more
I know what you must be thinking. She is talking about decorating or makeup. Maybe accessorizing. What can this girl possibly know about those topics? She only ever talks about eating, or spending time with others while eating... While I love (trying) to decorate and I do wear makeup, I am going to opt out of adding to the ongoing dialogue around these hot topics. Let's leave it to the professionals.
In this case, "less" is made up of the simple and ordinary joys that drive a considerable part of contentment. Nearly every week, I will share five simple pleasures in an effort to live gratefully in the moment. While our culture may emphasize the need to have more, be more and accomplish more, there should also be a faction of us that mocks this unending pursuit by remembering that less is more.
Riding a Razor scooter
Easter's warm weather afforded the younger generation in my family the opportunity to play outside together. We range from 8 years old up to 27, but playtime is our equalizer. I raced my twin cousins on their Razor scooters and despite my longer, stronger legs came in last place. Gosh it was fun though, and I felt a youthful calm that afternoon. We feasted on my Aunt Cathy's Easter cookies and cupcakes by the twins' mother Angela after our field day outside. For a moment, I was eight years old and carefree again.
This summer Angela is opening a 2Sweet retail location and you too can feast on her confections. More details to come.
Singing alone in the car with the windows down
When behind the wheel, I slip into the belief that I will not see anyone I know on the open road. Reckless abandon outweighs my otherwise typical prudent behavior and I sing loudly to my heart's content, with the windows down. The wind and strangers rushing by me, I strive to remain in tune in the event someone might venture close enough to hear me.
Cooking hot dogs on an open fire
My grandparents gave us their chiminea to keep on our patio as we spend most warm evenings cooking and eating outside together. We grabbed some Sabrett hotdogs and metal skewers and roasted our dinner over the open fire. No utensils required and easy clean up. Tasty too!
Homemade Icing
My sister loves chocolate cake with cream cheese icing. I am a carrot cake lover, which also pairs beautifully with cream cheese icing. While Betty and Duncan are consistent crowd pleasers, there is something extra rewarding about whipping the icing from scratch.
Fuzzy socks on freshly creamed feet
I worked as a high school student in a small boutique called Jake's Montclair. It was a genuine neighborhood shoppe selling Life is Good apparel and merchandise. It has since closed but thankfully I acquired numerous pairs of these socks. All different colors and patterns, I adorn them after a long bath. Feet deserve respite as well; they take us where we are going.
Scenes from Sunday (2)
It has been over a year since we moved back home from Washington and Sundays have become mini celebrations on repeat. I won't protest the opportunity to indulge in togetherness when the world becomes increasingly complicated and often just sad. Have you watched the news lately?
This weekend marked my first trip safely taken to and from Atlantic City, all by myself. My sense of direction is less than impressive, much less. And I much prefer to be in the passenger seat when going anywhere really. It leaves more time to daydream and nap if the ride is long enough.
The drive down was warm and oddly pleasant. The music played on with just me behind the wheel. And the gal from Google maps as an extra precaution. Besides the cupcakes I made for the Bachelorette party flying off the seat when I made a turn too quickly, the trip was seamless. I arrived earlier than the other girls traveling up from Maryland so there was time to wander. I made friends with a few seagulls who desperately wanted a bite of my pizza.
We ate, danced, drank, and then ate more of course. My hips did not move anywhere as easily as the lovely Latinas in the bridal party, but I made the most of it. Awoken by the sun peering through the hotel window, we snacked on cupcakes and cake pops for breakfast before hitting the boardwalk for some shopping and priceless people watching. While I will attempt to withhold any judgement, it is well worth your while to stop and peer at the characters on the Atlantic City boardwalk. What an experience.
Sunday arrived and I made the journey back home. The angel of the road helped me navigate on four hours of sleep and a coffee. James had risen early to get Palms at mass and to pick up picnic tables for the patio from Home Depot. He had been wanting them since we saw them a week prior. With all the time we spend outside grilling, they are the perfect additions. He began smoking the brisket hours before any guests were to arrive. I pulled up the driveway to smiling, sun burned faces and the smell of charcoal. Everyone comes with full hands and empty bellies on Sunday. Just follow the smell of smoked meat.
James made five courses or so; I lost count eventually. For starters there were barbecued chicken thighs on the Weber charcoal grill, a favorite of mine and a staple at our barbecues. Assorted pasta salads, stringed Syrian cheese, crunchy Italian bread, chips and salsa and lots of olives. We love our olives from Fairway. Next came hot dogs, followed by pork ribs, and then beef ribs as if there was not enough food had already. Dad made his spicy grilled potatoes and some toned down potatoes for rest of us who prefer not to ignite our palates in flames. We finished the mains off with a smoked Brisket a few hours after the initial course. No other way to ring in spring.
To celebrate birthdays in April, Nana brought along a cake laden with freshly whipped cream and strawberries. The men played darts while the women chatted over coffee. After cake, oysters were shucked. You heard correctly. After the cake, the men made room for oysters with horseradish. While I am not a huge fan of them myself, I admire the laborious effort that goes in to preparing oysters. Dad toted some battle scars on his hands but not so much to deter him from holding our youngest attendee.
She fit in the palm of his hand.
Ebb and Flow
I like organizing my thoughts into little folders, a sort of mental filing cabinet. Rational versus irrational. Thoughts that are constructive versus ok to toss away. I value order and strive to make sense out of feelings and happenings. Sometimes these habits drive me to feel vulnerable about finding answers. A clear cut mandate to dictate what choices to make, what path to choose and what makes me tick. I am, as of this point in time, unable to find any concrete response to this line of questioning. I don't align my entire being with any one thing. I live for moments instead.
Rain. Preferable warm rain, and some sunshine. The gallop of an excited pet. The dog pummeling down the steps and through the kitchen, slipping and sliding into the door or cabinet. Reagan greeting me at the door. Sleeping near me when I don't feel well.
The smell of coffee brewing in the morning. Better yet, bacon frying. And biscuits. Or if you are from Northern New Jersey, some doughy bagels and Taylor ham.
Joyful accomplishment over a completed task, no matter how trivial. Freshly folded laundry. Long talks on the phone. Pajamas. Chocolate chip pancakes for dinner (while wearing those pajamas).
Fatigue after a long workout. Aching muscles that scream progress. Grocery shopping on Sunday mornings. Preparing a meal and sharing it with someone whose company you crave. Or eating alone with a good book as your companion.
Weekend naps. That pang of indulgence when you shut your eyes as the sun continues to shine through your window. Being understood. Listened to. Appreciated.
"We cannot be happy if we expect to live all the time at the highest peak of intensity. Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony." ~Thomas Merton, 1955
The only thing I can imagine doing all day every day, is navigating the ebbs and flows. A step forward, and a step backward. Learning. Communicating. Overcoming. I don't know what I am doing or where I am going. But I will embrace it and endeavor every step of the way to make sense of this life. To make it meaningful. Love others and cherish their love in return.
And eat cake. I will eat lots of cake.
Breathe it in
I caught myself looking in the mirror. I try not to make it a habit of peering too deeply or I end up noticing blemishes and other trivial things. While I studied my face, time felt like it was standing still. I was grateful for each blemish, my eyebrows, my nose. I realized that exact moment would never exist again. Gone into thin air it will go. I will age, my hair will grow, and my face will change. If I am fortunate, I will develop laugh lines.
All too often I forget to take a step back and breathe it in. My mind too busy evaluating the bigger picture. Nonetheless, I remain cognizant that until I am unabashedly grateful for something, anything, there will never be enough. I want to strive and succeed, but I more desperately want to feel whole in the moment.
As an exercise in being present, I take a personal inventory.
Today I didn't solve world hunger. I didn't single handedly build a brand, save a life, or give a talk at a TED Conference. I wasn't able to run five miles. I'm not necessarily my ideal weight. There are still many unknowns.
But I did smile at a stranger while walking down Bloomfield Avenue. She was nearing eighty or so and looked sullen until I acknowledged her. Then she flashed the toothiest grin I've ever seen. I saw a child's spirit in her eyes.
I fixed my bed. There is abundant research in psychology supporting the notion that a fixed bed will enhance overall happiness. I even left the rest of the house somewhat clean when I departed this morning. If the house was a mess though, at least that bed was pristine, every pillow in its place.
There was a luscious latte at Raymond's. Its foam reminded me of a Disney movie. Finding hidden meanings in my food is a simple pleasure I enjoy twofold. 1. Meaning is uncovered. 2. Food and drink is had.
I learned something new at work. Actually four or five completely new things. It is both humbling and infuriating all at once to see how much is left to discover. Without even scratching the surface, I am tickled by the possibilities.
My Nana surprised me. I find it remarkable that you can know a person your entire life, and they still manage to do something you hadn't anticipated. Out of the blue she used sexy in a sentence, via text I might add. She texts, yes. She is just the coolest woman. Cooler then I'll likely ever be.
My cousins and I hiked to an overlook in the Pocono Mountains. My fingers were numb and eyes teared, but my mind was clear. The air was crisp. James will argue Pennsylvania air is the cleanest air you will find.
At that moment, there was truth to his hometown prejudice.
I called a friend, made chocolate chip cookies, and said my prayers.
...
A recurring theme in my thoughts is how we as people endeavor to find our place. For me that "place" is yet to be identified, unless I've already found it. That is not so far fetched to consider. Wherever I am is the only place I have. I might as well breathe it in and make it count.