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Posts Tagged ‘cozy’

One says Pride & Prejudice; the zip-up hoodie says Darwin’s. They’re cozy, worn in, remind me of things and people I love. I wear them around the house like a hug.

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Creamy lemon-scented lotion, velvety geranium leaves. Crisp clean sheets, a warm mug of tea. Fleecy tights, smooth lip balm. After days alone at the computer, reconnecting with textures helps ground me.

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As the late-afternoon light shifts, I switch on the lamps, light a candle, start thinking about dinner. Transitions are hard when your whole life is in one space, but this helps. 

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We cook and laugh, and I steal a kiss while he does the dishes. Then we snuggle or go for an evening walk. We fall asleep, content in each other’s presence. 

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My sister bought it for me a while back. I hadn’t worn it much until this winter. But it’s keeping me warm and stylish on these endless chilly days at home. 

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We are (only?) two weeks into 2021, and it has been a ride. I’ve been doing some serious escapist reading, and it – along with paperwhites, good music and hugs from my guy – is keeping me (mostly) sane. Here’s my first reading roundup of the year:

Once a Midwife, Patricia Harman
I loved this warm, honest novel set in West Virginia during World War II. Midwife Patience Hester is mothering four children, helping her veterinarian husband with the farm work, and delivering babies. Then the U.S. enters World War II and her husband is persecuted for his stance as a conscientious objector. Lovely and thought-provoking. Part of a series (see below).

Mimi Lee Reads Between the Lines, Jennifer J. Chow
Mimi Lee, pet groomer and occasional sleuth, goes to meet her sister Alice for a girls’ night out and finds one of Alice’s colleagues dead in her car. Determined to clear Alice’s name (since she’s a prime suspect), Mimi noses around (with the help of her talking cat, Marshmallow). Super fluffy and really fun.

Cozy: The Art of Arranging Yourself in the World, Isabel Gillies
I picked this one up on remainder at the Booksmith – seems apt for the winter we’re in. Gillies explores the concept of coziness in both familiar ways (cups of tea, blankets, soup) and unexpected ones (an ode to blue mailboxes, a section on “When it Feels Hard”). A bit uneven: some lovely moments and also times when she’s a bit out of touch. (I felt the same about Gillies’ YA novel, Starry Night.)

The Enigma Game, Elizabeth Wein
Orphaned in the London Blitz, 15-year-old Louisa Adair (who is half Jamaican) accepts a position as companion to an old woman in a Scottish village. The catch? The old woman, Jane, is German–but she doesn’t want anyone to know (whereas Louisa can’t hide her heritage). Their adventures with a flying squadron, a German pilot, an Enigma coding machine and a volunteer driver with secrets of her own were just fantastic. I love Wein’s thrilling wartime YA novels and this one is so good.

Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares, Rachel Cohn & David Levithan
All alone for Christmas, 16-year-old Lily leaves a red Moleskine journal full of “dares” on a favorite shelf at the Strand. Dash, also alone for Christmas, picks it up and the two begin a sweet, funny whirlwind romance via correspondence. An entertaining, festive, witty YA novel with some great side characters; I especially enjoyed Lily’s Great-aunt Ida.

The Light in the Dark: A Winter Journal, Horatio Clare
Winter is hard (in case you hadn’t heard) and Clare, a British writer, struggles with it particularly. This is a gorgeous, honest, lyrical book about winter in Yorkshire and seasonal depression and noticing the beauty. I loved it so much. Recommended by my friend Roxani.

The Midwife of Hope River, Patricia Harman
I went back to the beginning of Patience’s story (see above): this traces her adventures delivering babies as a single woman during the Depression. The reader gets to know Patience via her present work as a midwife and flashbacks to her past as a union organizer. A little clunky at times, but comforting and absorbing.

Links are to Brookline Booksmith, a perennial local fave. Shop indie!

What are you reading?

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final form: Queensland Beach

Many of my knitting friends will tell you: sometimes a skein of yarn takes a while to figure out what it’s going to be.

Some years ago now, Sonia came to Boston for a conference, and we met up in the South End and walked around, eating pastries from Flour and talking about our lives. She lives in the Pacific Northwest and we became friends via Ravelry, but had never met in person before. She brought me a gorgeous crimson skein of Cassiopeia yarn from Pigeonroof Studios, and I immediately started browsing potential patterns.

The yarn has a bit of cashmere and silk in it – so it stretched waaaay out with the first pattern I used, Regina. I frogged that attempt and made a gorgeous Cocoon Cowl next, but I rarely wore it. (I like my cowls big and cozy in the wintertime, and this one was more on the small and dainty side.)

A few years later, I used some of the skein to make a Gin & Tonic hat for my friend Laura, but I’d had the rest of it kicking around all this time. But it has now found its final form: a cozy, cabled Queensland Beach headband.

I tried it out on our first proper snow day, yesterday, and I’m so thrilled with it. And it reminded me: sometimes you have to try a few paths/possibilities before you find the right one.

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Penelope NYC interior restaurant

I spent my Labor Day weekend in NYC, staying in a little apartment near Park Slope and wandering in both Brooklyn and Manhattan. The trip, like most of my New York weekends these days, was a mix of familiar and new: a long browse at the Strand, a fantastic musical I hadn’t seen (Come From Away, which made me laugh and cry), a lovely Friday evening in my favorite tangle of streets in the West Village. (The bookseller gossip at Three Lives continues to be the best.)

I went back to the Chocolate Room, which I visited on my first-ever trip to NYC for a retreat led by Jen Lee, years ago. I finally went to Books Are Magic and then tried out Jolie, a French-Mexican cantina in Cobble Hill. I had brunch with dear Abilene friends (both of whom I’ve known since I was a college student and they were just kids) at Maman in TriBeCa, which was new to all of us.

And on Sunday night, I went back to Penelope.

Like so many of my NYC loves, Penelope was a gift from Allison, my dear friend who used to live in Queens and periodically take me to all her favorite NYC spots. Penelope is the kind of place we both love: cozy and inviting, with simple, homey comfort food and yummy desserts. We first ate there on a frigid January weekend, and it lived in my memory as twinkly and delicious.

There are literally hundreds (thousands?) of restaurants in NYC, and I love trying multiple new ones every time I go. Part of the adventure is simply walking into a new place that looks interesting, on whatever street I happen to be on. But I am also both a creature of habit and a person who and delights in repeating joys. When I find something I love, I generally want to enjoy it again and again.

A couple of years ago, during a work conference in midtown, I trudged over to Penelope for dinner one night, dry-eyed from staring at PowerPoint screens and nearly voiceless from a lingering cold. I sat at the bar, which was festooned with twinkle lights, and ate a bowl of spicy, orange carrot-ginger soup. The waitress, after hearing my scratchy voice, brought me a mug of hot water with honey and lemon, a vibrant yellow slice floating on top. Her kindness choked me up (even more than my sore throat). It was such a gesture of care.

I’ve spent enough time in New York now that parts of it feel like mine: there are places I can throw off the tourist mantle for a few minutes, neighborhoods I know well enough not to second-guess my every step. Much of it, of course, is either unfamiliar or constantly changing; the city is huge and dynamic, and even if I lived there, it wouldn’t stay the same. But I’ve drawn immense pleasure from coming back to my favorite places, including Penelope.

This time, it was late on a Sunday night and the place was nearly empty. But the waitress still had a smile for me, and I sat and read my book, savored my sandwich and glass of rosé, and relaxed into the quiet familiarity (and the nineties jams on the stereo). I walked back to the train through Murray Hill, with my leftovers in a brown paper bag, sleepy and footsore (I’d been walking for three days) and entirely satisfied.

Do you like going back to favorite places in cities you’ve visited? Or would you rather try something new every time?

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Erie hat pom pom knit table

I used to be quite a prolific knitter.

Especially the first few years I lived in Boston, I was always making something – fingerless gloves for my girlfriends, sweaters for my then-baby nephews and niece, so many hats and cozy cowls for myself. These were also the years of Downton Abbey and Castle, Lark Rise to Candleford and Sherlock and Grantchester. I’ve never been a big TV watcher, but an hour here and there added up to lots of knitting over the years.

And then a couple of years ago, I just…stopped.

We’d moved again, and several of my favorite shows had gone off the air, and I couldn’t really justify knitting myself yet another hat or scarf. I spend more of my evenings running than sitting at home these days, and so the knitting fell by the wayside. But around Thanksgiving, as the hubs and I were watching Modern Family or doing the NYT crossword (possibly both), I realized I had itchy fingers. So I picked up a skein of Madelinetosh sock yarn I’d had sitting around for ages, and I started knitting – just a round or two here and there.

Two months later, I have an Erie hat – cozy and soft. And I decided it was high time I owned something with a pom-pom. (Red, of course.)

It’s been a comfort to have something back on the needles, and to watch the progress, stitch by stitch, round by round. The merino wool feels good in my hands. And when the weather in New England does its schizophrenic thing, I have another way to keep out those biting winds.

I’m not sure I’ll dive back into knitting the way I once did. But I am eyeing the Queensland Beach headband pattern, with some yummy red yarn I have in my stash…

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January sunrise pink clouds gold blue

Every year as the calendar turns over to January, I think: here we go.

My friends and family in Texas always ask, at Christmastime: Is it snowing up there in Boston? My verbal answer is usually Not yet, and my silent one, which comes right after it, is something like: Real winter starts in January. 

winter berries trail January bare branches

December was cold and bright this year, but now we are into the season of snow, wintry mix, biting winds and cold rain, not to mention record-breaking cold over the long weekend and (still) much less daylight than I’d like. We are – hallelujah – past the solstice, so the days are getting longer, but winter in the Northeast can feel long no matter how much sunshine there is.

So, as I often do, I thought I’d make a list of the good stuff: those small pleasures that are (mostly) limited to this less-than-favorite season of mine. Here they are:

  • Slicing open a fresh pomegranate and scooping out the seeds – like handfuls of little tart jewels.
  • Clementines, peeled and eaten out of hand, juicy slices bursting with tart sweetness. (Bonus: the scent lingers on my hands.)
  • Chai, for me, is a three-season pleasure, but it’s especially comforting on bitter mornings.
  • Winter sunrises out my kitchen window (see above): blue and gold, sometimes streaked with pink clouds.

paperwhites window flowers

  • Growing paperwhites near those same kitchen windows. Watching their long stems grow feels like magic to me.
  • Hearty, spicy soups and stews – nothing better on a bitter night.
  • Those diamond-bright, blue-sky mornings – if I’m properly bundled up, I love them.
  • Sitting in the right spot on a morning subway train to catch the sunshine flooding into my face.
  • Morning light on the deep-blue waves of the Charles River, and watching the ice patches spread (it’s fascinating).

Ivey book slippers twinkle lights

  • Snuggling up under the faux-fur blanket I’ve had for years. (Related: plaid slippers and fleece-lined tights.)
  • Dreaming of spring travel.
  • Twinkle lights that linger after the holidays.
  • Cozy handknits, especially my workhorse Evangeline gloves and my pink Gin Fizz.
  • Long walks in the clean cold air, with hot tea – preferably Earl Grey – at the end of them.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be a true winter lover, but I am trying to develop a mind for winter, as Adam Gopnik says (to counterbalance the grumbling). It helps to notice and celebrate these daily pleasures.

What are the small delights of winter where you are?

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