1. I think one of the worst things about this time of year is discovering all the things I want to buy as I'm shopping for, ahem, everyone else. Coat from Fossil (free shipping!)! Coffee table from West Elm! Rug and holiday dishes from Crate and Barrel! I can't decide if I need to hurry up and get everything done or step slowly away from the computer. Oh, and I still want a white Christmas tree.

2. I think it's pretty funny that Callum suggested that I monetize my blog so I can buy a house on Nantucket. Ha! The pageviews that would take = comic/out of reach/un-fun/ridiculous. But don't think I haven't been looking for real estate.

3. I think it's also pretty funny/sad that Violet was so happy to see us that she actually had a wipe out on our floor and hurt one of her back legs. Don't worry, she's fine. It's only prevented her from jumping onto the sofa (not allowed), and she's already much better. But it's nice to be missed.

4. I think I am so glad it's Friday. We generally build in a rest day when we come home from a trip, and by the end of the week this week I'm definitely feeling the absence of that day. On Monday, Callum's backpack ripped, meaning that even the simplest act of carrying his books to school has been rendered more difficult. On Tuesday Neel had a 7 AM meeting, and before midday he called to tell me that this particular group was meeting again at 5 that night. We've had meetings and baseball and tests and deadlines, your typical re-entry. I'm not complaining (really!), because our trip was so completely worth it. I'm just ready to rest a little, that's all.

5. I think this boat, the Lauren, represents one of my favorite stories from our trip to Nantucket. Before we left, I told Neel and Callum a bit about the trip to New England I took as a kid. Yes, you may have heard, we toured the Breakers. But one day we wandered down to the harbor area of Newport, RI which, as it is still, was rimmed with shops. It was another stormy summer afternoon. When the skies darkened, my dad and I darted into a toy shop. Right as we did, the power went out! Yikes! It was a tiny wandery little shop with high, cluttered shelves. We lingered during the worst of the storm, and when the rain let up my dad bought me a boat, a small wooden sailboat with a green hull (Never mind that the power was out! No power needed to pay cash and hand write a receipt.). I loved it. That evening, when I played with the boat in my hotel room bath (it floated!), I decided to name it the SS Mary Jane (after my mom). People, I was seven. Give me a break.

Well. My husband and my son could not have enjoyed that tidbit more. Guffaw, guffaw. Make fun of Mama, naming the boat the SS Mary Jane. And I still don't see what exactly is so funny, but anyway.

Fast forward a year or two, and here were are at the harbor in Hyannis. Lookee what do we have here, hmmmm? A boat named after another wonderful mother: the Lauren. Complete with a faithful hound. How do you like that boys?

I whipped Big Daddy out as fast as I could! Also drawn toward the boat was a tall young man. He turned to me as I was snapping a few shots, and we commented on the sweet dog in the prow of the boat. The young man's voice as lightly accented, and he laughed when I told him that I liked the boat because it was named after me (he knew I was kidding). Turned out, he was from Norway, but had been studying in the US, in New York City, for the past four years. Was he planning to stay, I asked him. Ummmm...maybe. His parents, here visiting, were meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time that weekend. That's a lot of pressure for Thanksgiving, don't you think? It seemed (are Norwegians subtle?) that his decision to stay depended a bit on that meeting. Once the boat had left the dock and we were well on our way, he saw me on deck and asked me to take a picture of him and his mom (and yes, I had a moment of freak out when he called me by name...how did he know my name?!). So what do you think happened? Our weekend was wonderful, but how was his?

Thank you all so much for your kind comments on yesterday's post! I responded to each of you in the comment section.

I was first (and last) at the Breakers in August of 1977. I was seven. Yes, I'm that old. My mom and dad will have to chime in on the particulars of this vacation to New England that we took with my grandparents (apparently I have been to Mystic!) because let's face it, the memory dims. I do remember the specific month and year very clearly because it was during this vacation that Elvis died. I may not remember Mystic (sorry Mystic!), but I do remember lots. It was cold! We stayed in a hotel with an indoor pool, and my dad swam in it with me for hours, even after it was supposed to have closed. Memories get jumbled, especially when you're a kid, but it seems to me that it was the morning after we'd stayed up late swimming in that pool that we picked up a paper to learn that Elvis had died.

Another thing that stood out to child-Lauren was Newport, RI and the Breakers. The Breakers is one of several "summer cottages" built in the late 1800s and early 1900s by the American royalty of the era. During this time families such as the Vanderbilts and Rockefellers escaped New York City to their homes on the New England Coast. The Breakers, considered the grandest of these "cottages," was originally a wooden home when purchased by Cornelius Vanderbilt II, who extended the family fortune during his stint as president of the New York Central Railroad. Vanderbilt remodeled the original home into a 70 room Italian-inspired mansion. No detail was left unconsidered, including the steps on the staircase in the grand hallway with risers two inches shorter than usual so that ladies could glide down them in their ball gowns. Chandeliers were fitted with electricity (a new rage!), but had pulls that could convert them to gas should the fickle electricity prove tricky. Bathtubs all had four fixtures, two taps each for hot and cold, one of which ran with salt water which was considered curative.

We took an audio tour (which was different from when I was here before and the tours were led by actual humans), and sadly, no photography was allowed in the building. Gladys, the youngest daughter of Corneilus Vanderbilt inherited the Breakers in 1934. Gladys was a supporter of the Preservation Society of Newport County and to support the society she opened the home to tours. In 1972 the home was sold to the Preservation Society for the princely sum of $399,999. The house was named for the huge waves that crash upon the beach below. The day we traveled there when I was a child was quite stormy, and our tour guide, who had taken a liking to me, led me into the loggia first, (the loggia is the covered porch, see the 3rd photo from the top, there's a person peeking out of one of the windows!), with the rest of the group trailing behind and said, "On days like this you can hear it...listen," and we could hear the distant thunder of the waves on the shore. Running along the bottom of the lawn (see the 4th photo from the bottom) is Newport's famed Cliff Walk, a 3.5 mile trail that runs between the mansions and the sea. Part walking path and part rugged trail, the cliff walk is an absolute must-do for me when we next head to Nantucket (sorry Megs, we're coming back!). I'm thinking if we pushed the drive a bit we could overnight in Newport, maybe?

It's a funny thing to go back to something you remember so distinctly from your childhood. The Breakers was different, for sure, but still, I wasn't disappointed. Decorated for Christmas, with lilies everywhere, the place smelled heavenly, and the crisp day was perfect for touring both inside and out. I always worry that Neel will be disappointed and Callum too, but no. We're ready to do it again. But which one next? Marble House?Rosecliff? Breakers again? All of them?

five things, november 30 edition

the breakers {life}