Book Love

Yesterday I did something truly decadent.

I sipped coffee and read a book in bed for two solid hours. It was heavenly.

Shocking, I know! Did you realize that this was the blog of a degenerate, caffeine addled, book-reader?!? (Now would be the time to clutch your pearls and search for the smelling salts.)

Okay, so maybe we have different definitions of the word ‘decadent.…’

Image and Design: Laura Messersmith

When I was in high school I used to spend a ton of time reading (the coffee drinking came later), but it’s been a long time since I’ve spent more than a few minutes with a book – long flights are the notable exception. But, as I’ve gotten a little older and the daily to-do list has gotten a little longer I don’t seem to have the time to sit still for an extended period of time anymore.

And, somewhere along the line I got into the mindset that once I had my ‘chores’ done, then I could relax. Mike teases me that I never drink hot coffee because I am forever pouring a cup and then immediately abandoning it to start an unrelated task. End result: it’s usually lukewarm by the time I get around to drinking it.

But how to put the breaks on without feeling guilty about leaving the to-do list undone (at least for a little while)? Flying more often just to read seems a bit impractical.

I think the more permanent answer is seeing reading not as a waste of time – the Huffington Post has more than a handful of reasons why it’s actually good for you – but as an activity that is valuable and worthwhile. We encourage children to read all the time, why can’t we do the same for ourselves as adults?

So, I’ll be rededicating my time to moving my bookmark a little further along in the pages of the books on my nightstand and rest comfortably in my decadent lifestyle.

A Walking City

Of the three major cities I’ve lived in – Boston, Dallas, and New York – two of the three have been what I’d call walking cities. Places with a distinct culture of traveling by public transportation or the old heel-toe express. Dallas was the exception – surprise! Mike and I used to joke that if you walked anywhere in Dallas without one of the following ‘excuses’ (a dog, a stroller, or running gear) that people would think something was wrong and you probably needed help.  

New York, New York; Image & Design: Laura Messersmith

It’s not that I’m opposed to driving - I love a good road trip - but one of my favorite parts of being back in an East Coast city is the freedom to explore on foot. There’s something about seeing a neighborhood from the sidewalk instead of the street. It’s up close and personal and gives me the chance to notice the details – a charming shop display, the elaborate stonework on a brownstone townhouse, a particularly lovely window box. I can take my time meandering and all the traffic jams can be untangled with just a nimble side-step.

Since we live on the Upper West Side it is naturally the neighborhood I’m most familiar with, but I’m excited about (slowly) getting to know other spots in New York. I’ll be sharing my adventures with you, but I’m always open to recommendations. Don’t be shy, let me know your favorite spots in the city!

Passport Panic

Andy Warhol; "Holly Solomon", 1963-1964; Image Source

One of my resolutions this year is to take an international trip and with spring and summer coming up quickly it’s time to get our act in gear! We’ve gotten over the first hurdles of when and where to go (leaning toward early May; probably Croatia via a brief stopover in Southern France – woot!) Now, for the more terrifying hurdle: my passport photo. This is one of those post-marriage, name change boondoggles that I’ve been avoiding for nearly four years, but now there’s an imminent need to have my passport updated. It’s time to bite the bullet, send in the paperwork, and brave the photobooth. Be strong!

In my first passport picture, circa April 2000, I made the cardinal sin of pulling my hair back in a ponytail and the end result was terrible. Add florescent lighting and I looked sort of bald and moon-faced, but it got me back and forth from U.K., Ireland, Australia, and Fiji. So, success I guess? It expired just in time to need renewing the month before we were married.

Mike and I were invited to a wedding in Bermuda literally 2 weeks after our own, so delaying until all the certificates and licenses were filed wasn’t an option. A hasty photo in CVS where I look unaccountably sweaty (eww.) represented me through customs and has been lurking in the ‘Travel Documents’ folder of our filing cabinet ever since. Yikes. That’s 14 years of international-incident level hideousness, people!

This time I’m determined not to look sickly green as if I’ve been on an all-night bender, so I’ve been searching out resources and advice. Here’s my plan of attack:

1. Enlist Mike to take a picture for me and use epassportphoto.com to size it

2. Follow the tips from these articles: Beautylish, Flare, Anywhere-Anywhere, which hit some similar points. In a nutshell: hair down, shoot in natural light, define features with make-up, smile with the eyes (aka: smize.)

3. Do-overs. Lots and lots of do overs.

I’m determined. This time I will slide that little blue book across the podium with confidence! Do you have any passport photo advice? Travel stories? Ideas for things to do in Croatia? I’d love to hear it!

Laura Ingalls Wilder-ness

This posted started with an unwieldy title: Things That Happen When You Go Home for a Week. Then I hit on this new one, which made me feel clever. You be the judge.

I’ve spent the last 7 days in Upstate New York with my parents, which I realize now I still consider "home" even though this is the longest span of time I’ve been here since college winter breaks. It’s the house where I spent ages 12 - 18 and the place I’ve come back to for all those red letter occasions – Thanksgiving, wedding showers, birthdays. I just feel different and comfortable in my hometown - where things change, but simultaneously remain unchanged - in a way that I don't feel other places. My lovely and talented friend, Kate Racculia, has written about how even on the radio it feels perpetually like 1994 here in the best possible way.

Being in my parents' house where the walls are hung with my grandmother’s paintings, the Internets are still found in cords instead of in the airwaves, and books published by Harper and Brothers in 1956 still wear their paper dust jackets with pride has reminded me of a few things.

One – I might be less citified than I realized. Since I’ve been here I’ve carried wood, built fires, dug multiple cars out of 12” of snow, shoveled steps, and made chicken stew with mashed potatoes. The surprising part is that I didn’t mind at all. It was actually kind of fun and gave me a sense of accomplishment. Perhaps I’m channeling my inner Laura Ingalls Wilder? Also, I know why gyms didn’t exist back in the day. Physical labor = no guilt over a chocolate chip cookie at the end of the night.

Two – walking a dog in the country is a whole different story than walking a dog in the city. My parents’ house sits on several acres of land, most of which slopes down a hill that seems gentle until it’s time to hike back up. Woof. My walks with Maddie-pup have taken a more adventurous turn as we shuffle through the drifts exploring the various animal tracks and enjoying the bright sunshine shimmering on the snow. So different from New York where an elevator and 12 floors stand between us and the outdoors.

Three – on a serious note: it is possible to detox from Pinterest. Not totally pleasant, but possible. Oh trust me, I plan to return to my Pinterest bingeing ways A.S.A.P., and I hope never to do this again, but it is still comforting to know the possibility exists.

Have you ever been back on your old stomping grounds and had a moment of clarity about your roots?

All Images: Laura Messersmith