Holiday Letter 2017

Happy Christmas and Merry New Year!!!

Iceland, March 2017

What a 2017, friends. It has been a very mixed bag of jellybeans, some tasting of blueberry and some of sour milk.

The world we live in feels a little more every year like a smoldering compost heap about to burn down the barn while everyone’s in the front yard pruning the roses. I am overwhelmed when I think of all that is bad and broken on the Earth. It feels socially irresponsible to consciously stop paying attention to the daily details but I have had to for my own peace of mind.

The key lesson for me this year was to focus on being a force for good in my immediate surroundings FIRST.  Really that’s the best we can hope to do, isn’t it? And if enough of us do it, the positive energy we radiate outwards will overlap and reach into the barren places.

Listen, I don’t know what that means either, the tag on the teabag this morning said Perfect Energy, so I’m feeling in touch with the universe.

Anyway, we’re here to talk about ME. Here is the story of my 2017:

It’s been a year full of exciting TRAVEL. In March I explored the fairytale/Viking nation of Iceland with my brother Sam and two dear friends.  In August, I rented a cabin in the woods of Brown County, Indiana with friends, and we camped like queens. In September, I took a work trip to the gorgeous province of British Columbia. In a few weeks, my whole family will be celebrating Christmas in Boston.

It’s been a year exploding with BABIES. My sis continues to win the family house cup by announcing she’s expecting a second child. She’s not alone, I did a study^* and there’s been a 63% increase in babies among friends, family members, and random people I follow on Instagram.  2017 was a banner year for propagating the human race, my friends.^**

Let’s keep the trend going-- the world needs more purity and innocence.

Don’t look at me though, I killed two houseplants and a gifted rosemary bush is slowly wilting from inattention.

It’s been a year of MOSTLY POSITIVE CHANGE.  I switched travel agencies, making for the first time a job change within the same industry. (What? Building a career?) It’s been just over a month and I’m wondering why I waited so long to make the leap. I am so much happier! I have health insurance! No one wastes an afternoon arguing with the entire office trying to figure out who broke the toilet seat in the employee bathroom!^***

I briefly went paleo. How brief? 4 days.  One night I demolished half a head of roasted cauliflower and had such a terrible stomach ache afterwards, I ate a grilled cheese the next day out of spite. I haven’t looked back.

(I said mostly positive change, remember.)

I think I’ve finally taught Grampie how to stop burning microwave popcorn, so you’re all invited back to the house on Sunday nights again.

I went zip lining not once, but TWICE, which is a huge deal because I am terrified of heights/my feet leaving Earth. YOU GUYS, the second time was between two mountain peaks.  I mean, I cried at the end, but I still did it. I CAN DO ANYTHING!! The trick is to start screaming before you leap.

British Columbia, September 2017

What will 2018 hold? For the world, I’m not even tempted to guess. I think it won’t matter, as long as I greet each day as an opportunity, rather than an obligation.

Sorry, I had another cup of Peace Tea.

I’m so so thankful for my family, my friends, clean water, air, and sunshine. I’m thankful I can digest gluten. I’m thankful for replacement hormones that appear to be stopping my distressing hair loss.

I’m thankful for all of the things I have that I do not deserve.

I’m thankful for plants and dogs and babies.

I’m thankful for deep, abiding fellowship.

I’m thankful for mercy and grace.

I hope I can keep all of these things in 2018. I hope that if I can’t, I have courage in the face of adversity, and patience and faith in the face of the unknown. And you too, my friends.

I love you all so very much.

Please enjoy the enclosed page of photos from my travels. I have no babies or dogs for you to hang on your fridge, but you will note the shot of me standing pompously in front of a float plane, overcompensating for all the other areas in which I lack.

Have a sparkling day,^****

Ellie

  

*No I didn’t.

**Listen, I just got up from my desk to stretch, accidentally elbowed a lady and a baby fell out. Just now, I mean it. His name is Isaiah Succotash and his parents are over the moon.

***It was Patricia (fake name) and everyone knows it. 

****The best email I got in 2017 was from a Parisian hotel concierge who finished a very business-like exchange with this delightful phrase. I’ve included it and this footnote to drive home the fact that I am so cool, hahaha ok I’ll stop.

Welcome

Illustration by Ina Hattenhauer

Hello, and welcome to the new and improved Hither & Yon

*hands you an ice cold bottle of Smartwater™*

As you came in, I’m sure you noticed the new title graphic. Isn’t it divine? The ampersand is in the latest shade of yellow from France.

To our right, you’ll see an updated sidebar, with a photo of the author that was taken sometime in the last three years. Fabulous!

If you click on her face, it will take you to her ‘About Me’ page, but that hasn’t been updated in the last three years, so don’t. I mean you can, but I have it on good authority that she is no longer a fan of vintage suitcases OR Polaroids, so it’s wildly inaccurate.

The navigation is mostly the same, with the addition of a slideshow of her Instagram photos, so you can see she’s still alive when it’s been weeks between posts.

Hopefully it won’t be weeks between posts anymore, but let’s be real, you can put a fresh coat of paint on a leopard, but it’s still a leopard. Now it’s just super angry because it’s covered in paint. Don’t do that to animals, you guys. I can’t believe I even have to mention it.

So what do you think?

I love it, I all-caps LOVE. IT.

All the props to Kelly of Kiki & Co. Creative. She knows what she’s about. Check out more of her work here.

Anyway, that’s all really.

I’m sorry for speaking in the third person earlier; that was weird. Also, I don’t have any Smartwater™ for you. Go get a drink from the faucet, don’t be wasteful.

I’ll be back later with a post on my trip to Iceland (finally).

Ok bye! ;)

Happy Weekend

Source

Because of the Independence Day holiday, the work week was short, but somehow I arrived at Friday evening just as worn out.  I'm particularly thankful for friends who meet me for lunch in the middle of a crazy day and let me hold their adorable baby. I'm looking at you, Janet and Charlie.  Other things that brightened my week include long July evenings, 2 Corinthians 3, and unsweetened iced tea.

Also, here is some stuff I clicked on this week and liked:

+ I scream, you scream, we all scream, "I'M CHARLENE!"

+ There is a store in New York that only sells pencils and pencil-related things, and between that and bagels, I think the universe is telling me to move to NYC.

+ I might be turning into one of those people who uses natural deodorant but I'm not willing to try them all and subject people to that process, so thank goodness for this girl who already did.

+ In defense of small towns as a long weekend vacation destination

+ As much as I'd love to be one of those people who subscribes to minimalism, this design trend way more accurately encapsulates my personality.

+ A song for your weekend:  "To Build a Home" - The Cinematic Orchestra


Just like Charlene, if you need me this weekend, I'll most likely be looking at pictures of baby goats. Or in this case, reading about ducks up to no good. Oh animals, you hilarious things.

Take care of yourselves, friends.
xx

If by Rudyard Kipling

(Flore Gardner, Rain, 2014)

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, 

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, 

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, 

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: 

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster 

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken 

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, 

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, 

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, 

And lose, and start again at your beginnings 

    And never breathe a word about your loss; 

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you 

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’ 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, 

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, 

    If all men count with you, but none too much; 

If you can fill the unforgiving minute 

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Source: A Choice of Kipling's Verse (1943)

To Rowan, Two Days into Life

It’s called acute renal failure, as if we have been particularly blessed.

“This is fatal, but isn’t it darling? It was chosen especially for you.”

As if the Alzheimer’s was merely a dressing gown, worn for twelve years,
exchanged at the last minute for a painful, shimmering evening dress.

Oh Rowan, I'm sorry you've come in the midst of all this.

You’ve just arrived as Nana is leaving.

You, a little dinghy, fresh in the water,

bobbing by a battered frigate

Limping into harbor.

The soldiers have long deserted,

Leaving only the current to push her home.

What are we to do? What am I to do?

I’ve excused myself to cry in private three times today.

Why do tears feel like they can show up without an invitation?

Does it look like I have time to cry, now, in the middle of a conversation about airline tickets?

I want to stare at your sweet face for the rest of my days.

I want the newness of life to erase the pain of loss.

But I am at work and you are in Texas.

Squeaking and grunting and seeing only grey shapes, inches away.

I am glad you are brand new.

I am glad you are too smooth and round and soft for grief

or love

or loss

or joy.

You don’t even know words, only sounds.

The sound of your father’s voice and your mother’s heartbeat,

Sounds to grow on.

“Acute renal failure” means nothing to you.

And now I have to go home and pick up the house

Scrub the bathroom

Place clean sheets on the beds

and take stock of the pantry.

There are faces and voices arriving,

To hover, whisper, reminisce and smile.

And wait.

And I have to pretend to care about their comfort,

their sleep,

their appetite.

When all I care about is Nana.

And you

And the quiver of your bottom lip,

As you sigh in a dream.

Written June 16, 2016, 2 days after the birth of my nephew Rowan, and 2 days before my dear sweet Nana finished her earthly journey