Woke up to a gorgeous winter wonderland, skies turned blue while I enjoyed my morning flat white.
Heading to Manhattan to celebrate turning 55 this weekend with a dear friend. Off to an excellent start, so much gratitude for my mediation and yoga practice.
Birthday weekend was exciting, love the energy of Soho, Tribeca.
While I was away our hens generously laid a record 8 eggs per day on AB’s birthday and mine. Good job little flock!
The high priced luxury goods on view in the city were epic, obsessed with the gorgeous shearlings at Totem ( did not want to take it off! )learned more about the meaningful custom jewelry at Foundrae, admired craftsmanship at the kitchen showroom of DeVol. Plain English was closed, so next time.
The Greenwich hotel did not disappoint, an oasis of calm in the midst of the urban congestion.
Fun to visit, great escape for a girls getaway to shop and see things we’ll never have in retail shops in RI.
Resolved to:
grow in my capacity for expansion ( emotional, somatic, spiritual ) to more fully and more clearly embrace reality
transform how I see the world, how I see others, become aware of habitual cognitive distortions that are not helpful
To feel continuously that I am, and to always be looking for proof that I am indeed :
nurtured
guided
protected
Support for this resolution- daily TM practice and on the waking up app Seth Gillihan.
We have a beautiful cooper’s hawk interested in our bluebirds and hens.
Enjoyed a lovely brunch with great company at Press in Wickford with hellebore on the table, a late birthday micro party graciously hosted by Becky.
Been mostly down with Flu A for two weeks, on a positive note I learned about the Skylark birds in the UK watching a hiking show through Dorset, one of my favorite places. Their song is otherworldly so much so that a flock is called an Exultation : This term captures the feeling evoked by the skylark's continuous, complex song, which can last for minutes or even an hour as the bird hovers high in the sky.
Have not had the pleasure of hearing them in real life but a return trip to Dorset is in order during spring.
Heading into week 3 with Flu A leaving me fatigued and winter worn. Note for next year, no parties, no travel in flu season New Year’s eve.
Portrait of a Norrie in magic hour light.
Snowbird flew into our garage, rescue mission.
Coop care in the blizzard.
The brave little flock of our backyard bluebirds having survived 16 inches of snow in one day.
Dug out the truck, kicked on the 4 wheel drive, got her moved so Evan could drop the blade and clear the parking court. Now enjoying a most delicious double espresso in my favorite demitasse made by American ceramics in Westerly, surrounded by spouting greens. Barley for the hens and little spring bulbs on the dining table.
January has been the most brutal month in some ways ( flu for 3 weeks, frozen icy gravel walkways and driveway, layers of protection needed, crampons needed to take TC out, constant requirement of wood hauling to feed the fire) will endeavor to stay present and make the best of it, looking forward to chapter February.
Watched Ralph Fiennes in The Menu, haunting commentary. Asked AI to breakdown all the nuances in the message of this movie. I see it everywhere and so the movie landed with me.
The film terrifies because it asks an uncomfortable question:
What if the worst sin is not ignorance, but indifference—especially when paired with power?
And what if the real divide is not rich vs. poor, but those who can still feel vs. those who only consume?
That is the film’s quiet, ruthless brilliance.
The diners are not merely rich; they are extractive. They consume not to be nourished or moved, but to possess, document, rank, and signal status. Their wealth insulates them from consequence, and the film’s cruelty lies in stripping that insulation away.
The tech bros treat the meal as content and conquest—something to be optimized, disrupted, or dominated.
The food critic wields cultural capital as a weapon, shaping reputations without bearing the cost of creation.
The investor commodifies the chef himself, seeing him as an asset rather than a human being.
What unites them is not taste but access. They mistake proximity to excellence for understanding it. The film argues that privilege without reverence becomes a form of violence.
Silver white winters that melt into spring.
Time to start a substack on refusing motherhood after inheriting the results of generations before me that were un mothered. As well as the total lack of being mothered in my life, motherless since age 2.5 when my mother never recovered from postpartum psychosis and died tragically when I was 8. Separated from her when I was 7, flown to Steamboat Srings.
The expectation that I should be Ok and welcome the responsibility of motherhood is to not only not see me at all on any level.
That expectation shows a deeper divide that I bear no burden to bridge.
The lack of depth in my family members and their lack of curiosity is not mine to fix.
I feel it and like the movie Persona will sink into silence.
Is silence a higher truth—or a refined form of violence?
