books and their nooks.

i slept last night. long and hard. 

and when i finally awoke this morning it was to the sound of pounding rain. pouring rain. pitter-patter-tap-tap-tapping rain.

glorious, glorious rain.

so i literally rolled out of bed taking my white duvet with me, cracked the window, and moved the reading chair just in front. 

and there i sat. with my book. listening and watching and feeling the cool, damp breeze.

and i gave thanks that i asked for both rain boots and an umbrella for christmas. because there's nothing quite like trying navigate the eccentricities of a new york rainstorm if you're ill prepared. 

and then i opened my book and disappeared. into another world. into another life.

i haven't read a book since late last may. i wasn't able to this summer. picked up many, but just couldn't do it. and so it continued through until now, december. a six month reading block. and knowing this period must come to a close i picked up a book that i'd read before. and decided to begin there.

and suddenly, with book in hand, the train ride seems bearable. and waking up on sunday mornings to a world of white seems poignant: a blank canvas to fill with a story between my hands.

don't ever let me go this long again without falling into a book. i'm a far better person when i'm living in two worlds--this one and the one gifted to me by an author with imagination and empathy. 

fed: product placement

i woke up exhausted this morning. so exhausted that after i poured my first cup of coffee, i left the coffee maker on, knowing i might go back for a second.

today will be hard. the hardest day of the week. from job number one to job number two. all day. and i will be wiped. and when i reach this level of exhaustion i tend to overeat. i know this now. i didn't know this before. i'd be eating and eating and eating and think, why am i eating? and after a lot of work and the help of some very smart people i was able to identify that i sometimes mix the signals (read: very often mix the signals). in fact, i would say, eighty percent of the time when i'm overeating and i'm not sure why (meaning it's not anxiety or fear or trying to push away some uncomfortable emotion--or the inevitable i'll-eat-more-because-i've-already-eaten-so-much guilt) it is exhaustion or thirst. crossed-wires if you will.

so today i just know that i need to be aware. and a little careful.

i've already promised myself a cab ride home tonight (ah, the luxury) and a saturday morning of sleeping in for however long i'd like--the promise of these things will help me avoid any kind of a meltdown (i hope).

but until then i'd thought i'd share some products i really like--products that taste good, make me feel good, and keep me on a healthy track.

i'm a snacker. this much you should know. if given the chance, i'd nosh on snacks always. so, many of these fall into that snack category...




when i get that urge for chocolate, instead of reaching for the bag of m&ms' i head to whole foods for these bad boys. because then i satisfy the chocolate craving and sneak a little fruit in a long the way: goji berries! (i also enjoy the chocolate covered mulberries). be forewarned: they are very expensive (like 4 dollars for a bag) but i don't get them everyday.

i love these chik'n patties. they make for such an easy lunch or dinner. put on a bun, bagel, or bread of any kind with a little ketchup, they satisfy the burger queen within. i despise (despise!!) any kind of faux meat products made from soy, which these are not. on a side note: if in new york city and in need of a good veggie burger i suggest 5 napkin burger or hillstone {known as houston's almost anywhere else in the country}.

i love the texture of barbara's oatmeal snackimals. animal crackers with a twist, i say!

remember when i made my infamous ice cream pie? i used four ice cream pints--three of which were stonyfield nonfat frozen yogurt. they taste quite good and the plain and vanilla and chocolate variety have only 100 calories per serving (meaning the whole pint is only 400 calories). now, let me be clear, i don't believe in counting calories--in fact, i loathe it and find it damaging. but when i bring a pint of ice cream home--there is always the chance i might eat the whole thing in one sitting (i know, i know, i'm working on it). but with these bad boys, when i eat the whole thing at least i know i haven't done some huge disservice to my body. 

have you had pop chips yet? i love them (most especially the sea salt and vinegar variety!). unlike most low calorie foods these bad boys pack a punch and don't leave that odd and elusive empty taste in your mouth.



alrighty, that's all for now. happy snacking! (ignore the strange layout--i struggle when working with small images).

the "to be continued" part of yesterday's post.

i got the tree today. from my canadian tree farmer. just over the hill.

i walked home hugging the bundle close against my chest--my stomach. the wind whipping off the hudson burning my exposed hands. i nestled into the green and felt safe, warm.

as i looked around my room yesterday, it struck me that the only thing missing was a christmas tree. for 'tis the season and there's nothing i enjoy so much as the scent of pine and the twinkle of lights.


the thing about this summer is that there was a point when i felt stripped of all freedoms. it was no one's fault. not my own. not that of those around me--in fact i will never forget the goodwill and kindness of many--just a strange, unfortunate congruence of events.

i had no way to get from here to there. no room of my own. no space to stake a claim to and declare as private. i was constantly exposed, without the needed escape. so i started taking showers. often. because those few minutes with the water running down and washing me clean were mine and mine alone. i would then take the time to dry my hair (not something i usually enjoy) because it allowed me to stretch the minutes in that tiny, enclosed space where no one could follow.

it was a lesson in returning to the basics. in finding the great pleasure in the simplest of things. many an afternoon found me holding a warm coffee mug. i don't think i ever got past two sips into the thing--i simply wanted it for the warmth between my hands: a universe unto itself, an opening of space in which to seek solace.

perhaps this is why my room, more than ever before, has new meaning--new importance. why i was so struck in the second reading of eat, pray, love by liz gilbert's transformation of her apartment into something of a hospice. why i now take frequent baths--remaining in the water just long enough to soak myself warm. or indulge in hot cocoa late in the evening. perhaps this is why i finally bought a humidifier after years of putting it off due to expense. or why i now can justify fresh flowers every two weeks. why when the friends and family anthropologie sale happened this last go-round i bought pillows and candles as opposed to blouses and bowls. why for christmas i'm asking for a bed skirt (and maybe a new window treatment?).


sometimes it all seems so silly and frivolous--the import i place on such things--how vital they are to my existence.

but on this morning i'm not gonna worry too much about that.

because on this morning i'll sit in my corner, read my book, and allow scent of candles and fresh pine to fill me.

for christmas is coming and i have found a home.

making a home from a room.

this morning i woke early.

knowing the wee hours were the only ones i could claim as my own today i was determined to enjoy them.  so i slipped out of bed despite exhaustion, brewed the customary cup of coffee, and retreated to my room where i ever so slightly cracked the window--oh for a light breeze to combat that unruly, but always powerful radiator!

i made the bed, lit the warm gingerbread candle i got just before thanksgiving when i feared i was going to need extra help getting into the christmas spirit, and then returned to the kitchen to pour the freshly-brewed coffee. back in my room, i set the mug on the window ledge and plopped into my reading chair.

peace. silence. stillness.

i looked around.

from this little corner my bookshelf looms tall. i see the many books and pictures and think to myself that if my life came down to two things these might just be it--books and pictures. which really means that my life--as of yet--comes down to one thing: stories.

directly diagonal is my worn, black desk. the mirror sits on it, leaning against the wall--it fell the day before i left for colorado and i've yet to put it back. in fact, i might just leave it there. i like it. perched atop is a strung, exposed time-capsule: my coffee filter pom-poms, childhood photos, birthday cards and the like.

next to my bed is the humidifier i finally broke down and got when i was sick for the fourth time this year. it is lovely. its cool breeze lulls me to sleep at night, nourishes my skin and throat--compensates for what that aforementioned radiator takes away.

i look next to me: my mug sits on the windowsill. the steam and winter wind mingle in dance. it is beautiful, lovely to watch, and i have the though that this can't be good for the coffee--making it cold--but it's such a miraculous little sight to behold that i can't bring myself to move it. beauty trumps taste today.

to be continued...

clarification.

i want the house. with the white picket fence. not because it's perfect. but because it's simple.