Putting Yourself in Timeout & All Things Fall
Hi friend,
I just got back from a Shaye-time-out. It involved a mug in my hands and twenty minutes in a screeching hot bath — so hot, my skin turned red. If it sounds relaxing, it wasn’t. It was a desperate attempt to calm my mind and emotions, a plea with myself to settle down. In such moments, I feel so mortal — I am but flesh.
It’s rare that I need a time-out. 39 years into this life, I’ve become self-aware enough to know when I need to eat, to have a glass of water, to step away from a situation, or rest. But every so often…
… the dog decides to bust out and start roaming the neighborhood…
… the kitchen sink backs up and the pipe explodes in the root cellar…
… someone romps through freshly mopped floors with muddy boots…
… and it’s at those times, when they all combine together into a cornucopia of chaos, that it’s harder than normal to keep it cool. Though I’ve had plenty of days with cozy conversations and bouquets of fresh flowers, and plenty of times of organized beauty and blessing, today just felt hard.
If today’s letter finds you having such a day, I’ll assure you that a walk and/or a bath are both welcome friends in such a moment; they somehow physically put our body, and subsequently our mind, into order. After that, I suggest a ten-minute nap (or at least a closed-eye/quiet session) and a big glass of water.
It won’t get through that stack of bills on your desk, make dinner, or convince your kids to stop bickering, but it will at least keep the train from coming off the tracks — which I suppose is enough sometimes.
The Kitchen I Long For
This week’s new video highlights the kitchen I long for — a kitchen that has been pared back to its most honest, beautiful version. This year has brought our family many changes in the kitchen. Now that Georgia isn’t eating any dairy, Stuart and I aren’t eating any potatoes, and all refined sugar is a no-no, it means I have to be all the more aware when bringing ingredients into the kitchen.
While this may initially seem like a burden, I’m drawing on my Italian eating experiences and focusing instead on bringing the most honest, authentic version of foods into my kitchen. The kitchen I long for is overflowing with ingredients that my great-grandparents would recognize, ingredients that are grown well and beneficial to us nutritionally.
The kitchen I long for is one of focused simplicity and ease — and foods that taste like themselves.
A Favorite Soundtrack
I can’t remember how or when I was introduced to Marcus King, but I do know he’s been on repeat for many, many years around the homestead. When I’m homesick, even if I’m home, his music is where I turn.
I’ve already listened to this album over and over and over again. It somehow takes me home and somewhere else at the same time. (The first song on this new record has some language, fyi.)
An Autumn Moment
While some of you in southern states are dealing with heat waves and hurricanes, here in the northern latitudes Fall is FALLING. From where I’m writing this I can see my autumn wreath hanging on the door, I’ve got a batch roasted beans in the oven and I’m getting a chill and will soon need to get up to grab a blanket (or a cat) to warm me.
After the week I’ve had, I’m taking great comfort in the cozy indoor days of fall and the simple, hearty pleasures that go along with it. For our homes, my autumn collection in Limone is bringing me so much joy. For our bellies, some of my most comforting fall recipes are dropping tomorrow, November 1, in the Cooking community (in addition to the full recipe archive of 400+ recipes!)
I’d love to cozy up with you in any or all of these places I pour my work into this fall.
“Joy doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.
Peace doesn’t arrive when everything is calm.
Wonder doesn’t ask for tidy rooms or crossed-off lists.
It shows up in the middle of the mess.
It emerges when we practice presence.
It lingers when we make room for it to stay.
The conditions are rarely perfect for learning together — for shaping hearts, for nurturing wonder, for doing this sacred work of home education.
May we have eyes to see the beauty tucked into even the messiest parts of our days.
May we slow down enough to find a rhythm that brings peace instead of pressure.
And may we find life waiting — not in the perfect plans, but in the sacred ordinary.”
Home is the very best place to ground our hearts and grow souls that are strong and vibrant.”
That Home Feeling
How can a place that’s not my home feel so much like it should be?
On my list for the rest of the day is to make a big pot of chicken soup and some sun-dried tomato bread to take to my sisters for our Friday Night Dinner. I may iron a bit of laundry, perhaps I’ll vacuum a floor or two, but I know for certain I will give thanks for another week spent living this wildly human experience.
Even if we have giorni buoni and giorni cattivi (that is, good days and bad days), we still have days, and that’s enough to be grateful for.
