Cozy tips: when home becomes the office

There is hope for that pair of woolen socks. The freelance community is no longer just blossoming; it’s in full bloom, and more in more people are working from the coziness of their home address.  Mothers and fathers and young adults and writers and photographers all across the spectrum are ditching their car keys and pouring a second cup of coffee from the sanctity of their own kitchen.

It’s not hard to see why working from home is favorable. Some people like the freedom of making their own hours, and others feel a stronger sense of security by being able to independently contract themselves. When I’m not nannying or in the Salted office, I research the chefs from home or take on extra freelance projects to supplement the costs of rent, granola, and my frequent kindle purchases.  This means entire days, weeks even, where my little Palms apartment is my only office.

There are pros and cons to working from home.  I’ve learned that pillows can help back support and that a good candle can transform a stressed mind. Let me share.

1. Dress for work. Yes, one of the benefits of working from home is to wear your pajamas all day, but I do like to change into my “work pajamas.” It’s nice to transition from sleep clothes to work clothes, even when the new work clothes consist of a tank top and stretchy cotton shorts. I also have an affinity for white cotton socks. Something about this, paired with my morning cup of coffee, places me in a slightly more productive mood, even if it’s as simple as a change of t-shirt.

2. Create sacred spaces. The bed is for sleeping, snuggling, lovemaking, and Netflix. While it’s tempting to sit propped on pillows and kick out some articles, I don’t feel it wise to turn my bed into a place where I ponder deadlines and search engine optimization. Instead, assemble a cozy place with a good chair, either at your desk or kitchen table. Add some fresh flowers, or a mason jar full of colored pencils. These things will inspire creativity and productivity, while still keeping your bed a safe spot.

3. Take breaks when you need them.  It’s easy to get caught up in your work, especially when you like it. Breaks are good for us, and good for our work. They allow us to breathe, and press the reset button. A small walk, a cup of tea, or a yoga session are all wonderful ways to escape from work and keep a sound mind.

4. Partake in work week rituals.  There are benefits to working in the office. Socialization, for one, is a wonderful thing, and I do occasionally long for a water cooler conversation. That being said, when five o’clock hits, and a respectable amount of work has been done, it’s perfectly fine to ask, “What Would Jimmy Buffet Do?” Happy Hours are called Happy Hours for a reason. Enjoy a drink, some cheap appetizers, and the company of your friends. Unwind. Take the time to appreciate a good friend.

5.  Check In with the Co-Workers. If you’re part of a larger company, or any form of team, reach out to your fellows. Yes, one of the benefits to working from home is being able to rock into a little antisocial nest, but from communication comes collaboration! Take the time to reach out to your boss or co-workers, especially if you have some ideas.  It builds a stronger professional relationship, and makes sure you still have a say in the advancements.

6. Nourish Your Artist. When I was living at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, my roommate, Kate introduced me to a life-changing book, entitled The Artist’s Way. It frequently discussed the nourishment of one’s “artist child,” that delightful part of our soul that takes pleasure in brightly colored candies and flannel sheets. Regardless of your work, creativity is a powerful to tool to express ideas effectively and use innovative problem solving.  By nourishing this fearless part of our soul, we are strengthening our ability to communicate, to collaborate, and to create.

to health and handholding

Today I am internally celebrating. The heat wave is (almost) over, Friday night is rearing it’s head, and  four-year-old Weston survived a set of chin stitches.

Wes is four, and has now been to hospital more times than he is old. His mom, a Phish-lover and former East-Coaster, gave me the run-down of his previous injuries, and it only took me a few minutes to that this spunky guy had a LOT of energy, and needed to exercise it. I started nannying for Wes and his 8-year-old brother, Dylan, about two months ago, my second week in Los Angeles.  Since then, we’ve strolled the promenade, modge-podged, played hockey using brooms and marshmallows, decorate cookies, eaten sushi, and made several lego hottubs. I served them their first mocktail, and was severely scolded for over soy-saucing white rice.  We’ve even had a slumber party, staying up until 9pm and participating in Dylan’s favorite pasttime: sharing embarrassing secrets. And now, we’ve gotten stitches.

Short version of the story: The three of us were hanging out in the classic childhood fort setup. Four chairs, one sheet, and battery operated candles. We set up fans, I put out a bowl of popcorn, and the boys were cozy in their pajamas. Life was good. Until the parents came home, and in his excitement, Wes took a step off the couch and went chin-first into the coffee table.   Mom was calm, Dad checked out the wound and decided stitches were in order, and Dylan and I held down the literal fort as Wes went off to get his repairs.

 

a few days late

On this beautiful Thursday morning, people all over the world are likely polishing off the remains of their Easter candy or sneaking breakfast bites of a slowly staling carrot cake. From what I remember of my childhood easter, there was a plethora of peanut butter eggs, solid milk bunnies, and hardboiled eggs sitting pretty in the grass of our backyard.  

My Easter sunday consisted off much less chocolate and a great deal more champagne than those of my youth. While I will never complain about bubbly in excess, I simply cannot allow a holiday dedicated to candy pass under my nose without even the slightest bit of celebration. Even if I need to do it alone in my room on a Wednesday morning.

 

Over a month ago, as I was making my way from Houston to Northern Texas, I stumbled upon the Russell Stover factory. I wrote a pretty intense post about it, and upon rereading I still don’t think it accurately depicts the wave of emotion I felt upon entering that Wonka-rivaling warehouse.   When I was there, I bought five little sugar-dosed treats, and told myself I would save them for Easter.  The day came and went, and while I did enjoy some homemade lemon bars and olive oil popcorn, the Russell Stover eggs stayed on the highest shelf in Sydney and I’s pantry, (the one where we hide the Doritos and Trader Joe’s Dunkables.) 

But yesterday morning, I ate them. I took a bite out of each one, and two out of the real good ones. Like a novelty donut from Dunkin, or a commercial Oatmeal Cream Pie, they tasted like sugar and artificial euphoria.  They looked like toys, and actually smelled pretty damn good. Yes, I was a little delayed in my consumption of Easter treats. In my defense, yesterday afternoon the youngest of the little men I nanny for found an undiscovered plastic egg hiding under his bed, still filled with chewy Jolly Ranchers and a mini Snickers.  He was thrilled.

Wes and I agree; it’s never too late for celebration. It’s also never too early, and Cinco de Mayo is right around the corner….(!) 

 

 

dear virginia, there is a hungry girl in love with you.

I’ve just finished two spoonfuls of peanut butter, the Oscars are on, and eight inches of snow are predicted for tomorrow morning.  My hands smell like the ocean from a late lunch of a Chesapeake crab feast, and Mish built a fire. We are happy. 

This post is about a farmer’s market. 

My parents go to the Leesburg Farmer’s Market every Saturday morning, bringing home all sorts of various treats that vary from “good-for-you” to “good-for-your-soul” to “just really really really good.”  Two weeks ago, immediately upon my return from the West, I walked into my parents’ room to hug and say hello. My heartbeat was high (due to a fairly enormous amount of sugar-free Red Bull) and I was hungry for something chocolatey. We sat on their bed to watch the Olympics and my father brought us *drumroll*…….chocolate-covered-chocolate marshmallows.  (Have you ever had a homemade marshmallow, dear reader? If you haven’t, please please please, go out on the prowl for one. They’re really marvelous. Eat one on it’s own, or let the little sugar nugget float in a mug of hot chocolate.  The chocolate covered one was more akin to fudge than a marshmallow, and there was not a single complaint.)  Among other things, these marshmallows were tokens from said Farmer’s Market!

My mother and her best friend, Kim, had plans to head to the market early Saturday morning.  Originally, I was looking at my regular HIIT workout at Gold’s, but I figured, YOLO, and ditched the gym for Virginia Blend coffee, a Greek Yogurt tasting, and gluten-free ginger lace cookies.  Miss Kim (or affectionately, Aunt Kim) drove us out to Leesburg in her pretty new car. It’s red. (!!!) And has a heated steering wheel.  (!!!) And crystal clear windows that allow a tag-along traveler to sit comfortably in the backseat, and let her gaze drift out onto the Virginia landscape. (!!!!!!) It’s kinda beautiful.

The Leesburg Farmer’s Market is located modestly in a shopping center parking lot.  There were refrigerated lamb cuts, wicker baskets filled with greens, multi-colored apples lounging in the chilly sun, apple fritters and croissants wrapped in wax paper, and speckled eggs sitting like gems in their cardboard bungalows.  Not too much to be overwhelming, and just enough to add some exploration to an otherwise average Saturday morning.

I’ll give you the highlights, beautiful friends. Our first stop was the Layered Cake Patisserie. (This is where the chocolate covered marshmallows are made!!!) Barbara, the baker, also makes a mean batch of French Macaroons, which stole the hearts and mouths of Mish and Aunt Kim.  They each bought several. 

With my poor circulation, my first stop was Catoctin Coffee. I went for the Virginia Blend, poured a cup with a splash of half and half, and ignored the cardboard sleeve in order to feel the warm paper on my bare hands.  Oh oh oh! This coffee was so so tasty. Complex and slightly buttery (thanks to the cream), it deserved to be savored, but alas, I was so determined for warmth that I glugged the whole thing in a few fast sips.

After some browsing, I stopped at Deborah Joy’s booth for Gluten-Free baked goods. A quick note on gluten-free options: they often get a bad rep. Along with healthy foods, sometimes they get thrown into the unnecessary fire of BEING GOOD FOR YOU SO THEY TASTE AWFUL (really they don’t!!!!!!!!) Swapping honey for white sugar can add depth and flavor, and almond flour adds a sweet nuttiness that I don’t find in bleached white.  I bought several of Deborah’s cookies, including chocolate chip and almond butter, ginger lace cookies, rosemary and lemon shortbreads, and almond sandies. She delicately wrapped them in a brown paper bag, and I mentally squealed as their weight slipped into my hands.

 

Post shopping trip, we sampled the various cookies around the kitchen table, finishing up our cooled coffee. My favorite was the chocolate chip, though the pecan sandie was a close close second.

My mother refers to farmer’s market options as food less traveled. I like that.  As much as I love a good oreo, it’s fun to know your baker by name.  Virginia flavor is quite unique, and I am quite grateful to have grown up in place that grants exposure to a wide array of taste while providing a sense of community.  Virginia tastes like delicate white wine, miniature Milky Ways from childhood Halloween, biscuits and sausage gravy, a spicy radish, midnight Chanello’s pizza post college shenanigans, and plump peaches that covered one’s hands in summer nectar. 

Excuse the above mushiness. If I sound sappy and nostalgic, it’s because I am.  This Thursday, friends, I am moving to Los Angeles to begin a new life chapter (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). My good friend, Sydney and I, will be dwelling together in the coziest apartment two poor post-grads can afford, our legs folded over one another as we wonder what our lives will look like.

Cheers to Virginia, cheers to home, and cheers to new places and new oceans!