Nathalie's Notes

Writing in the margins

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My Post

Roots to Roofs Special Section of The News-Register

 

 

After a lifetime of trying to hide an unflattering truth about myself, I came out with it in the paint supply aisle at my local hardware store.

I was in the midst of an internal meltdown over the way too many selections for types of caulking sealants and caulking guns when the friendly associate asked if he could help. He suggested perhaps I didn't need the extra tool I was holding.

"But it says here that it's for making a tidier project and I am a very messy person," it came out of my mouth before I could filter myself. And just like that, I'd admitted what I've long been ashamed of and nothing bad happened.

Well, to be fair, the friendly associate stood there for a moment before laughing out loud and saying: "Okay, well yeah, maybe you need that tool and some extra towels then. Really? You're that messy?"

"Yes, I am," I said, owning it now.

Some time ago, a friend asked if I'd heard about hygge. Pronouned "hoo-gah."

In essence, hygge is creating a sense of cosiness, comfort and enjoying simple pleasures at home. Think candles, twinkle lights, warm socks and nourishing food, which of course includes good chocolate.

As she started describing the Danish concept to me I realized that while I had not heard of it by name, I knew it when I felt it. And it was always at someone else's houses.

I wanted some hygge in my life. So I set about researching which hygge habits I could realistically adopt into my home.

And just for a frame of reference, while blankets are considered hygge, a pile of them heaped at the foot of the couch leftover from a massive fort building session is not. Presentation matters.

Listen, I'm no stranger to trends like these. I mean I fenged the shui out of my marriage. Seriously, my inability to feng shui our home was a point of contention right up to the end of our relationship. I even remember trying to explain the precepts of Feng Shui to my mom who kept insisting it was just a fancy way of describing "picking up and putting things away."

And then there was "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying-Up." Of course I jumped on the Marie Kondo bandwagon making piles of things and then holding each one individually to determine what did and did not "spark joy." But there could not be a worse method for my brain and than this one requiring the focus to sort through huge piles while communing with inanimate objects. To each their own, but this one was not for me.

While there are general conventions defining what hygge is, I think as with anything, which habits you adopt is more personal.

Speaking of my mom, one way she showed me some hygge love is by turning down the covers of my freshly made bed whenever I came home to visit. Sometimes, when she knew I'd had a particularly terrible day she did this even in high school. Even when the cause of the bad day was our tumultuous relationship at the time. This small act of love was a sign that despite our harsh words and inability to see eye to eye on just about anything, she still cared about me. And to this day I remember how warm that made me feel. Now, I do that for my boys when they've been gone overnight or had a rough day. Just a small thing, right before bed to create a little extra cosiness. Another way I do this is by throwing their stuffed animals and favorite blankets in the dryer just before bed. It's a special treat that costs me nothing and creates a feeling of specialness.

While I'm pretty good at creating special moments here and there, I've been pretty terrible about creating a calm, inviting home in general, despite how much I want that very thing.

Maybe my focus has been on the wrong things all this time. Here I've been trying to make myself something I am not instead of figuring out which habits I'd like to cultivate in my home, what climate I'd like to create and then intentionally cultivating that. Doesn't this "I'm creating a comfortable home for myself and the people I love" sound way better than words like "housework" and "cleaning?"

What resonates with me most is that embracing a concept like hygge celebrates the notion that the care and feeding of people we love is a noble and important act. We can call it making dinner, we can call it vacuuming and doing laundry but really, any task done with the purpose of creating a comfortable home for ourselves, our family and our guests is contributing to this hygge concept of intentionally living well.

That noble goal might just make my messy self a little more cheerful about going about my mundane chores with a little hope in my heart that even though most of what I do just has to get done again (think dishes, laundry and cooking) the feeling instilled in people I love by doing those daily tasks might just be something that sticks with them forever.

If having clean laundry in dresser drawers and tasty foods to inhale in less time than it took me to preheat the oven makes my boys feel cherished, it's worth it. If cleaning baseboards and keeping couch cushions in the vicinity of the actual couch makes guests feel welcome, it's worth it.

All acts done with purpose toward the end goal of living on purpose are worth it.

I don't want to go overboard and promise any guest-to-be a clean house every time they visit, but making sure the counter is cleared off enough to prepare a favorite beverage or mug of tea? That I can commit to cheerfully.

With that in mind, cheers to having a little hygge in the house. 

 
 

Starting, and starting some more

By Nathalie Hardy

Summer, 2018 | Behind the Picket Fence 

Roots to Roofs Special Section of The News-Register

I love it when friends stop by my house. Even when they ask aggressive questions like: “So, what’s with the chair on your front porch? The broken one?”

“I’m going to make something with it,” I replied. Of course, people who know me well enough to stop by without calling also know the odds of this actually happening are quite low.

“Oh, cool — what are you going to make with it?” My friend asked, humoring me.

“A planter! First, I’m going to paint it, though. Well, OK, first I’m going to finish painting the bed,” I replied, avoiding eye contact.

“The bed that’s been in your dining room for a month?” she asked, laughing, because best friends can call you out on your own nonsense.

“Whatever! It’s on my dining room table now. Because I am painting it!” I asserted. I didn’t add that we’d been eating on the couch for the last week because the painting part of the painting project has stalled.

Then, my friend eyed the plants in their hospice stage of life — all lined up on my porch next to the unused watering can — and she nodded slowly, opting to tread gently as if some kind of illness was at play.

To change the subject, I suggested we drink some wine. Of course, we’d have to drink it outside. Also, we had to walk around the driveway because the porch is covered in the horticultural hopefuls.

However, opening the bottle of wine created a new project, with a more immediate deadline. My trusty pocketknife corkscrew broke off at the base. Despite the fact there are two stores and my friend’s house is in walking distance, I was determined to open that bottle with tools I already had. Stubborn and stupid? Persistent and creative? You decide.

Either way, here is a complete list of what did not work to open it: my shoe hammering the base of the bottle, my son’s soccer cleats, a screwdriver, a hammer and pliers. We did, however, successfully decimate the cork to the point where I could push a metal straw through it and then we used my herbal tea strainer to keep the cork bits out of the wine. Turns out, I just needed some kitchen tools.

As I’ve been learning the ropes of being the solo homeowner of an awesome old house, I’ve discovered the complete game changer that is having the right tools for the job at hand.

A little willingness to be weird, and look stupid, helps, too.

Until recently, I could count on my fingers how many times I’d been in a hardware store. Now I have my own rewards card and know the employees by name at my awesome local Ace Hardware.

It started with a fence project I volunteered to help with. I brought to the table zero skills or knowledge about how to replace fence boards, along with determination and a hammer. I watched some YouTube videos, I asked friends via video on social media and I was good to go. Kind of.

After measuring the boards needing to be replaced, I called the lumber store and ordered the materials I needed. It was sort of like calling in a to-go order for dinner. I thought that’s how everyone does it. Apparently, I’m a project princess.

And then I panicked.

I called the guy at the lumber store back and asked: “What happens if I did this wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what if I ordered the wrong boards or the wrong screws, or got the measurements wrong?” This was quite likely, since I said things like, “and the third little mark after the longer half mark, you know?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens,” he said.

“Oh.”

And guess what? I pulled off and replaced 30 fence boards by myself that afternoon without a hitch and didn’t even break a nail. A fingernail, for clarity.

Of course, every project seems to open some sort of Pandora’s box. When I surveyed the fence after finishing it, I saw that the boards weren’t even. So, naturally, I needed to buy a saw.

I did a little research and went to see my new friends at the hardware store.

“I’d like to buy a reciprocating saw,” I said, sounding like I knew what I was talking about.

I was handed a Sawzall.

“Oh, no I need a reciprocating saw,” I repeated. My friend at Ace explained that’s what I was holding.

This was not the last time I sounded like a fool at the hardware store.

Last weekend, I decided it was time to fix the hole in my wall I’d ignored for the last seven years. It was a round hole. So I paced the aisles searching for circular drywall.

Someone asked if I needed help finding something.

“Yes, I can’t find the circular drywall?”

“The what?”

“I have a round hole in my wall and all I see here are square pieces of drywall….” I trailed off as I processed her facial expression. So, that’s not a thing. Now I know.

I purchased the proper materials and they are, even at the time of this writing a week later, still perched at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me to finish the job.

As I paint and start my recent projects, I’ve been listening to a book on tape called “Finish” by John Acuff.

Yes, I too, appreciate the irony. Which is why I’m reading it. Maybe this will be “The Thing” that turns me into a finisher. We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted, Friend.

You might be thinking this tendency is why I’m doing all this solo, and I get that, because I drive even my own self crazy. But, on the upside, it’s more time to start … I mean finish, new projects.

My Post (7)

Fridays are my favorite. Well, that's not all the way true; Thursdays are my favorite weekday.  Yes, because of my beloved Friends. 

Recently some kids at work were talking about binge-watching Friends and I said, "Oh, yeah I used to have to wait until the following Thursday at 8 p.m. to see how Chandler and Monica worked things out …" 

So anyhow, I'm bringing back my Friday Favorites feature from a blogtime ago. 

Disclosure: I am an Amazon Affiliate – which basically means I've spent a bunch of time trying to figure out how it works exactly and have, to date, not earned a dime. However, you need to know –on account of being on the up and up with The Law– when you click on any of these images that link you to buy them on Amazon I conceivably could get a few coins – and the idea is for that to add up over time. We are taking the "over time" part very literally apparently. 

That's enough words about that — here are five things I'm loving right now. 

  1.  This year I'm working on adding some new "F" words into my vocabulary: Focus & Finish. This was an excellent book to listen to as I worked on actually finishing projects. So many more to go, but as with any habit, it takes time to become aware of what you're doing and then change it. Baby steps, people. I will say, having a blogging calendar was one of the projects I put on my things to actually finish list (of course I made a list) and LOOK. Three posts in a row. I know. P.S. For the love of all that is holy buy books at your local book store whenever possible. 

2. I love bullet journaling. I've been doing some version of it since years before that first episode of Friends even aired. Now it's a Thing. And I am always happy to geek out on this topic with anyone and everyone. This is the current one I'm using. I'm planning a flip -through video to post later this month. 

 

3. And this Faber Castell pen set is my fave for basic journaling. And letters. And sticky notes. And last minute school permission slips … 

 

4. This is my current beverage obsession. This Cold Brew Coffee+ Unsweetened almond milk + Ice = My post Whole30 favorite coffee drink. I really expected to go back to my old stand by but this has grown on me and when I couldn't find some at my favorite local store, Naps Thriftway, I had no choice but to turn to Amazon. 

 

5. These stainless steel drinking straws. Love. Them. That is all. 

 

 

 

 

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This top picture came across my Facebook Feed the other day and, as is often the way – it stunned me. How so much can change in so relatively little time. 

At the time, I didn't know it but it was an Ebenezer stone. Of course, that's all easier to see in the rearview mirror.                  

This picture, that smile projects so much confidence and if you just look at that moment in time you see it seems I was just so lucky! After all, I was able to be home with my babies and then land a job in the newsroom where I got to intern years before that. 

However, not pictured … is the courage it took to come out of the situation I was walking through and present a confident seeming self after feeling so beat down it would take many years (and counting) to right the wrongs. 

I didn't talk about it then at all and still don't much today.

All I really need to say is this: nothing is as it first seems. You already know that, though. 

But that doesn't stop us from getting Facebook Envy when we see a picture and make assumptions about what that person's life is like. 

You know what else? 

It also doesn't mean the picture is a lie. 

Right? 

Moments captured on camera are exactly that – moments, captured. 

In that still frame the absolute truth was that I was so happy in that moment to hold my boys and know that despite how I felt on the inside, I was able to get a job in a field I love.  

This moment is the moment capturing I knew things were changing. I knew the foundation below me was shaky and I knew things were not going as planned. 

But, getting that job gave me a new plan. It gave me hope. It meant I had to make a hard choice and many more after it, but I was capable of making them and as I continued to pray this one specific prayer "God please make the way clear…" it became more and more so. 

The steps I was asked to take where not according to (my) plan. 

would be able to do something that would bring money into our home and Wells Fargo could take my number off speed dial. 

This also meant I was two weeks from getting a paycheck and Wells Fargo could stop trying to take my house back. 

And here we are, living in this house I love, still unable to keep the water tray from overflowing apparently, with some major and minor changes – but here we are. 

Silly, stable and safe. 

 

*A note about the top  picture: this was a snapshot following the longest I'd ever been apart from the boys – not counting when I was in labor with Jake. It was seven hours! And I was about to go from that life to working full-time as a reporter. It was incredibly hard. And awesome. And awful. And amazing. Balancing work you're passionate about and being a mama is no easy thing, but it was an incredible experience to work with my newsroom friends and to make new ones along the way.  

The bottom picture: Well, that's just us goofing off trying to recreate a moment :) 

 

 

Image may contain: 3 people, people smiling, text

Image may contain: 3 people, people smiling, people standing and indoor

Behind the Picket Fence: Create a life you fancy. 

 

 For the News-Register

Roots Cover Be it so Fancy

While chatting with a group of friends, decorating styles came up. As in, what’s your decorating style? Terms like “shabby chic,” “farmhouse style,” “minimalist” and “bohemian” bounced around the conversation.

At some point, it was clear I was the only one not to contribute. “Um. Well. I’d say I roll with kind of a work-in-progress, ‘cluttered chic’ style. Can that be a thing?” 

The discussion then turned to a more philosophical one about what really makes a home feel like “home.” That was a little trickier to answer, because mine really has felt like a work-in-progress for about eight years. So that’s basically from the moment we got the keys to a home I was so in love with the moment I saw it, I knew it was where I wanted us to raise our babies. 

The previous owner had impeccable style. I don’t know what you’d call it exactly, but it was worthy of some Better Homes & Gardens coverage. Unfortunately, when moving day came, her stuff was all gone, and with it, the style that made the home seem so much like what I wanted but didn’t know how to create myself. 

So, there’s one answer. Home, I think, is something we create with our intentions and actions. Since my divorce, though, there’s been a lot of non-action. Or rather, there’s been plenty of action in juggling all the responsibilities of managing a home, working full time and raising two boys who are no longer babies. But it feels more like barely keeping up on things, instead of actually making progress on any of my decorating dreams. 

So, there’s that: Home is where you live your real life. And for me right now, that means no sooner have you pulled the bacon out of the oven than there’s spilled, hot bacon grease all over the floor, which turns into a fun ice rink for a little bit.

And then when you’re done cleaning up that mess, the bacon has mysteriously disappeared but somehow, despite eating an entire pound of bacon between the two of them, there are two boys wondering what’s for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. 

At that moment, and frankly, for a few days to follow, my kitchen is “decorated” with the remains of that mess and the evidence of quickly trying to cobble something else together before everyone is heading out to where we needed to be.

Because no matter what our mothers taught us, most of us don’t put everything away immediately. It is, however, a highly recommended practice. And for good reason. 

There is little more discouraging than waking up to a fresh day with remnants of yesterday’s disaster on the counters. This is where cultivating cleaning habits you stick to no matter what comes in really handy. You know, stuff like soaking pots right away so you’re not working out your biceps scrubbing them quickly in time to make soup for the next meal — that kind of thing. 

Speaking of soup, I’m teaching my boys how to cook. My youngest made Avgolemeno soup last week, and if you haven’t had that, you should try it because it’s delicious. When it came time to put dinner on the table, he wanted to serve it out of a fancy bowl. I tried to convince him to just ladle it from the soup pot. 

“Mom, you don’t spend this much time on something and then just serve it like that!” And, yes, he did help me with the dishes. Because it mattered to him how the table looked, he carefully set it while declaring: “I love fancy.” 

He put out cloth napkins, a full place setting for each of us and carefully arranged the bread bowl and plates. He refuses to touch butter, so his brother contributed that to the arrangement. Instead of using the butter dish, his brother tossed the whole stick, still in its wrapper, in the middle of the table. 

“There. I hate fancy,” he said, shrugging. 

I surveyed the scene, Jake drinking out of his crystal goblet, Sam sipping water out of the container closest to him and me with my water poured into my beloved, ubiquitous mason jar. 

Ideally, home is a place you can really be yourself and drink out of whatever you please. Home is where you can be fancy, or not. I suppose I’m a pretty good balance between my boys’ degrees of fancy. 

As we’re eating the soup, which two-thirds of us loved, Jake said: “Wherever we are together, that is home.”

“Oh, Jake. I love that!” I was touched, and told him so.

“Mom,” his brown eyes flashed as he nodded toward the wall behind me, “It literally says that on the wall.”

Ah. Right. One of my first acts of decorating my home in a way I loved was finding that sign in an antique store, buying it, leaning it against the wall for a year and, finally, hanging it up where it could remind me what matters more to me than decorating. 

Perhaps the whole point of home is figuring out how to be ourselves throughout life’s changing circumstances. Because physical homes change, who lives with us in our homes changes and all along the way, so do we. 

Home, I’ve decided, is where we figure ourselves out as we continue to be, well, a work-in-progress.  

Home is blog

If this resonates with you, I’d love it if you’d share it.

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