November 30, 2011, Washington, DC: This morning marks a milestone: My 100th blog post. Not only have I made it this far, but the list of ideas for future posts is longer than ever. Funny what happens when you dip a toe in the water.
What have I learned through the course of 100 posts? Have there been many surprises? Unexpected challenges or observations? Several of you have asked. Read on for lessons and reflections 100 posts in. (Then come back for blog post 101.)
“It binds us and forms our lives in ways that we do not entirely understand, and yet we are unconciously dependent upon. The places you love will do that to you.”
November 27, 2011, Southport, CT: Today we biked up Harbor Road and down Sasco Hill, heading for sand and a glimpse of Southport from the far side of the harbor. Sailors were still on the water and a kayaker paddled off Sasco Beach. From the narrow point of land where the Mill River empties into Long Island Sound, the view was crystal clear, as was the understanding that this place is a vacation. It’s a vacation with a far more personal touch.
More photos from Sasco Beach and our free day in Southport after the jump…
November 26, 2011, Southport, CT: We expect Southport’s summer routines to be behind us now that it’s November. But today’s weather is just as conducive to croquet and bicycles as it was last time I was here — in May — for a girls’ weekend. Six months ago, we were mixing lemonade and beer, and blossoms were bursting. This week, the town Turkey Trot, a too early sunset and a lack of colorful blooms are the only real indicators the holidays are upon us.
November 26, 2011: There’s a charming red house in a town just outside Boston that I’ve just realized has become my newest home. I’ve married in. With a new family, I’ve inadvertently been graced with yet another place on the map that’s meaningful to those I now call family, with a hometown accompanied by years and years of stories.
“These places whose outlook matches and legitimates our own, we tend to honour with the term ‘home’. Our homes do not have to offer us permanent occupancy or store our clothes to merit the name. To speak of home in relation to a building is simply to recognise its harmony with our own prized internal song. Home can be an airport or a library, a garden or a motorway diner. Our love of home is in turn an acknowledgement of the degree to which our identity is not self-determined.”
-The Architecture of Happiness,” Alain De Botton
November 23, 2011, Washington, DC: You can see it in people’s expressions. I’m supposed to dread today at the airport. Of all travel days, this is the worst. But you know what? I love the airport on a day like this. Maybe I’ve watched the airport montage in ‘Love, Actually’ one too many times, but the scene at the airport on a busy day like today suits me. I feel like I’m right where I belong.
November 23, 2011, Washington, DC: About once a week, I stop into Peregrine Espresso by Eastern Market on my way out of the city. With each early visit, I grow more envious of my neighbors who spend the morning here, hunched over their laptops, strong coffee in hand, comfortably working in the bright shop surrounded by wide, lime green, horizontal stripes adorning its walls. Some coffee shops are afternoon joints — rainy day places that lure you in with big armchairs, dark furnishings and quiet strength. Peregrine is most certainly meant for mornings. Its floor-to-ceiling front window, its hardwood floors, its geometric artwork, and its limited, cut-to-the-chase drink menu welcome you to wake up. Here is an atmosphere that encourages you to caffeinate. To sit up straight. To stay sharp. I always hate to leave with coffee to go rather than dive in right here.
This morning, I am one of the lucky ones. Today I am working from home.
November 20, 2011, Washington, DC: Sara is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We met in the first grade in Baltimore, Md., stayed in close touch after my family moved away, and eventually became college roommates in two adjoining 80-square-foot dorm rooms in Manhattan. When Sara first emailed me this summer about her new place in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Park Slope, I couldn’t picture it. “I found a new apartment just a couple of blocks away from my current one,” she wrote. “Let’s just say I think my new apartment used to be the ballroom!”
Then she sent a photo. Wow. Then I saw for myself last weekend. Double wow.
Read on for an interview (and photos!) with Sara about her Brooklyn Ballroom.