#my second trip to the Harvard art museum was just as lovely as the first

[coronam]

[insertsickusername13]

as a prompt: a richjake roadtrip after senior year

this took me so long.who knew road trips were so hard to write? wtf. like it's such a classic it should've been easy, but i started this weeks ago and only managed to finish it now bc i just refused to close the tab until i finished. and on that note i've been writing for the past hour and my brain has lost all ability to process the english language so i didn't edit it. if there's grammar mistakes or certain sentences are total nonsense then i'm very very sorry

uh, warnings? mentions of sex. mentions of drugs and alcohol.

word count: 5,437 (yes, it's longer than I wanted. its a roadtrip. how am i supposed to write that in a thousand words?)

On the second day, Rich told Jake he liked him. They were up in Maine, planning on getting all of New England before heading west. Jake had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it could go, eyes closed and legs almost straightened. It was early—7? Maybe 8?

When Jake had insisted they go on a road trip together, Rich had imagined late mornings in hotel rooms and late nights in clubs. (He also imagined Jake realizing just how terrible this would be for his legs within the first three hours, but it was hour eight and he still seemed determined.) Instead, he got a rigid schedule and a pre-made playlist. No bars or underground concerts—just Mount Rushmore and Chicago and art museums. Aquariums where there were ones, beaches when they could. 

They’d only been through Massachusetts and Connecticut by the time Rich gave in. They were alone for the first time in ages—and not in their house, not with the promise of going to school and seeing their friends the next day. They were practically in the middle-of-no-where-New-Hampshire and Rich could pull over, stand on the roof of the car, and scream, “I love Jake Dillinger!!” and the only person who would hear would be the object of his affections. The urge to confess flurried within and around the car like an unshakable snowstorm. 

 He didn’t mean to say it. In all honesty, it was a misinterpreted phrase, a result of Rich’s excessive talking as Jake hummed from the passenger seat, half-asleep.

 “But Interstellar just had more,” he said, only half paying attention to the empty highway, “Like yeah, okay, Tenet was weird as fuck and probably had a cooler concept if I was smart enough to figure it the fuck out, but the main character’s name was fucking protagonist. Who becomes emotionally attached to a dude named protagonist? It lacked the depth Interstellar had. Plus, Interstellar felt attainable. Like fuck yeah, I wanna go to space.”

 “Mhm.”

 “I’d take you with me. Maybe Michael, but I’m not sure how ventilation works on a spacecraft and his weed might stink up the whole thing.”

 “Probably.”

 “You’d be a menace, you can barely handle gas station food, let alone space food. You’d have a heart attack at not being able to have your weekly caviar.”

 “You’d just throw me out in space,” Jake mumbled, not even bothering to deny the caviar jab. 

 “Nah, I like you too much,” Rich teased, poking at Jake’s exposed stomach. He expected a squawk, at least for Jake to shove him away, but there was only silence. Rich took his eyes off the road for just a split second, interest piqued, only to be met with Jake’s wide, terrified expression. 

He’d said it a million times before and never overthought it, but maybe there was something different about this time. Maybe it was because they were alone rather than surrounded by friends, maybe it was because now they’d planned a life together—college, in Boston, Jake at Harvard and Rich at Emerson, still roommates. Maybe it was accursed Maine and all its forests, or the way Rich emphasized like. Love was a common word between them, said every sleepless night since the fire, but like meant so much more. Like implied a hesitance only present where romance was seeping into every word. 

 “No, you don’t," Jake seethed.

 Rich scoffed. A restless apprehension crept its way up his spine and settled in his fingertips, which tapped against the steering wheel. 

 “Pretty sure I do, buddy. You’re—”

 “I’m your best friend and you don’t like me.”

 Oh. Oh fuck. Jake meant like that. He knew, he—fuck. Rich had to consciously stop himself from accidentally sending the car tumbling into the forest. 

 “Okay,” Rich forced out, “Okay. I don’t like you.”

 Jake’s sigh of relief was similar to a comet colliding with Rich’s home. He squeezed the steering wheel and kept his mouth clamped shut, terrified that one wrong move would send them spiraling off the edge of the Earth. 

 As it turned out, though, Jake didn’t mind Rich’s confession. He didn’t directly acknowledge It afterward, glad to pretend he was still blissfully unaware of every icy undercurrent running under their feet. 

 Rich thought an explicit rejection would hurt. He’d imagined how it would go a million times over, a passive version of self-destruction. He lay awake next to Jake’s sleeping body and thought of every word he’d say, how he’d say it, the way he’d look away with guilt. Rich had all his responses planned, all his apologies already written. He was prepared for an, ‘I’m so sorry, I just don’t think of you that way—’

 He was not prepared for Jake’s arm slung over his shoulder, lips close to his ear, and that quiet, breathy laugh Jake only let slip out around Rich. 

 They were in some local museum meant to educate passing tourists about some half-abandoned small town Stephen King would write about. It was reasonably entertaining, mostly a distraction from the storm of heartbreak he was trying to disassemble in his chest. Just one night—he needed one night alone in a hotel room to sob out every sorrow, then he’d bounce back. Just one night.

 If only Jake would stop trying to kill him. Rich was satisfied reading about boats or whales or something (he’d forgotten, too busy thinking about Jake’s fingers clutching Rich’s t-shirt to keep his balance) with Jake a good two feet away, examining a painting. But Rich’s beautiful demolitionist decided his next target was Rich. He appeared to the right of him and practically draped himself over him, impossibly energetic for being in a place that reeked of desolation and dust.

 “Fuckin’ Maine and their lobsters,” Jake grumbled into Rich’s ear, resting his chin in the crook of his shoulder.

 Every possible witty response died before Rich even had the chance to think them up. His brain was too muddled with Jake and Jake knowing and Jake being so close. Where there would usually be a confession on the tip of Rich’s tongue, unspoken but overwhelming, there was only the bitter aftertaste of hope.

 “Yeah,” Rich stated, simple and short. Jake’s cane knocked against Rich’s knee. It wasn’t even on the ground anymore, having been replaced by Rich. 

 Jake made a small sound of confusion before nuzzling a bit closer and said, “Do we wanna drive to Vermont for lunch? Or are we staying here?”

 “It’s like a four-hour drive.”

 “So we’re staying here?”

 “If you want.”

 Jake shifted away slightly, just far enough that Rich began reteaching himself how to breathe. 

 “You’re all red,” Jake stated, soft and oblivious. 

 Okay, so no breathing. Rich writhed in Jake’s hold until he was free and standing three feet away, face even redder than before, an instinctive reaction to Jake’s intense, unwavering gaze. Picking through the flood of panic in his mind, Rich only barely managed to get out, “Sorry.”

 “Why would you be s—oh. No, that’s—I didn’t mean to—like, we’re—”

 Rich was going to cry. In front of the boy he was in love with, he was going to cry. Jake sounded so panicked and apologetic that Rich could almost feel it gathering like snowflakes in his hair, coating the floor in pure white dust.

 “Jake, stop. It’s fine.”

 “Are you su—”

 “Let’s just go to lunch. I saw a diner on the way here.”

 Jake nodded rapidly, almost desperately, as he stormed from the room—almost as if he could escape Rich’s feelings merely by leaving this goddamn museum behind.

 He almost succeeded. It took an awkward lunch and two hours of driving on an empty highway, but eventually, Rich’s one-word answers slipped back into enthusiastic ramblings and Jake learned not to flinch away whenever Rich’s hand got too close.

 Rich still cried when they got to the hotel. It was his turn to pay and, despite repeatedly telling Jake that he was going to save as much money as possible, he bought two separate rooms for them. Jake didn’t so much as blink. Still, the next night they were in a shared room with separate beds, far enough that if Rich reached out he’d be met with only empty air, but close enough he could still hear Jake’s breathing.

 It wasn’t until Illinois that Rich was once again faced with the consequences of his stupid, unintentional confession. Once again in different hotel rooms, Jake had to knock on Rich’s door at 2 am to get his attention.

 Rich was half asleep, his phone in his hand still open to Michael’s text messages. At first, he was convinced Jake was a figment of the SQUIP—the knocks would get louder until Rich was on the floor, rocking back and forth with his hands over his ears waiting for the noises to stop. 

 But then he heard, “Richie?” and his panic evaporated as if it was never there. 

 “What the fuck?” he said, answering the door with a fabricated scowl. At Jake’s nighttime smile, it melted into reluctant contentment.

 Jake held up a towel and a pair of swim trunks. “Hot tub? I saw they had one.”

 “Well, it’s most definitely closed by now.”

 Jake ducked his head with a bashful grin on his face and shrugged. Rich knew by now that Jake only followed the rules when adults were there to praise him for his obedience, and Jake knew Rich knew, but he always acted like a scolded child when he suggested something even vaguely rebellious. 

 “Could be fun,” he whispered, blushing at the floor. 

 “Oh my god, gimme those and stop acting like a five-year-old.”

 Jake positively beamed, sunshine incarnated. Rich almost had a heart attack as he ripped the swim trunks from Jake’s grasp as quickly as he could, doing everything in his power to avoid brushing Jake’s hands against his own as he slammed the door shut to get changed.

 By the time they got to the hot tub, Rich was sure he was going to die. He didn’t know he had a thing for boys picking locks, but seeing Jake on his knees in front of the glass door, his credit card in the slit between the door and the wall had done something to Rich.

 And Jake, skin red from the hot water, eyes glazed over from the third beer he’d had (that someone Rich hadn’t noticed was in his hand)? Yeah. That was something else entirely. He was frozen despite the heat, paralyzed by Jake’s hands on his hips, tracing stars with his thumb. 

 “You’re so pretty like this,” Jake whispered, voice almost lost in the foggy steam filling the room. He wasn’t making eye contact, instead staring at the point of contact between them like he could see the pearly gates of heaven reflected in the water.

 “Yep,” Rich squeaked. He didn’t want to say no, he would do anything to be able to enjoy it for what it was, but… but fuck. This was survival for him. He couldn’t wake up tomorrow in Jake’s hotel room and continue as if nothing had happened—it wasn’t a wouldn’t. There was no choice in this. Rich could not have sex with Jake and be forced to be friends with him afterward. He couldn’t have his feelings manipulated and abused, no matter how much he loved Jake. 

 Oblivious to Rich’s internal musings, Jake leaned down until he was so close Rich was almost convinced they were kissing. 

 “You want this?” he said. Just those three words, not the ones Rich was aching, breaking, longing to hear, were enough for their lips to brush together. Less than a second, barely a moment, and Rich thought he felt the moon shatter. 

 Rich would’ve responded if he could get air in his lungs, but Jake was so close he inhaled all the oxygen that would’ve been Rich’s. All he could do in the haze, the fire, the fear, was shake his head ‘no.’ Not when Jake was drunk. Not when he was looking at Rich like he used to look at Chloe.

 Jake jerked back an inch, then two, brows furrowed with confusion. 

 “I thought—”

 “I don’t like you, remember?” 

 Jake blinked. Rich could tell he was being too slow, his intelligence impacted by the alcohol. It shouldn't take this long for him to figure out what Rich was trying to say—usually, he’d be able to predict Rich’s next words before he even thought them up. 

 This time, though, Jake just whispered, so small his words could fit in the space between every molecule of air between them, “What?”

 “I don’t like you. You told me I don’t like you.”

 Another second passed, stretched far beyond what should have been physically possible. Only then did Jake’s eyes flash with recognition. 

 “Right,” he said, then smiled, “Right, but that was just—I was freaked out, but I’ve thought about it, so much Rich, it’s all I can fucking think about, and you’re—”

 “You’re drunk.”

 “I’m buzzed at best, Rich, listen to me—” he got closer again, eyes alight, and for a split second, the same amount of time it took for someone to realize they were about to die, Rich felt a flicker of hope. Innocent, buttercup hope. Jake in his arms. Waking up to Jake’s face pressed into his hair. Jake kissing him lovingly. 

 Rich’s face contorted to hide the blissful fantasy from Jake’s prying eyes. 

 Jake jerked back again, this time so far that he fell back into the water (gracefully, because everything Jake did was graceful), expression a crater of ash and fire. 

 “Do you… I don’t…”

 “You’re hurting me, Jake.”

 Jake scrambled farther away, fumbling through the water to the edge of the hot tub as if it was made of glass shards. His mouth was open, words spilling out in a desperate, violent waterfall. 

 “No, no, you’re not listening to me, Rich, I want you—”

 “Yeah, when you’ve got me half naked.”

 “What?! No, stop, I’m telling you I want you, all of you, not sex, or—”

 “Jacob I can see your boner from here. Don’t try this. It hurts. You can’t—”

 “I’m not trying to!”

 Jake’s voice was getting loud, his face redder than before. His wet hair went from sexy to frazzled and threatening. His hands were pulling at the roots, tangling in the knots. Rich recognized the mosaic his fear created and could almost see Jake tumbling off cliffs of insanity and desperation. He knew Jake through the months he spent alone in that empty mansion after his parents left, either drunk on expensive liquor or high on the pills his mother left behind, he knew just how dangerous a desperate Jake could be. Not violent, but so goddamn broken it was impossible not to cut himself on the pieces as he gathered him up and reconstructed him back into a man.

 “Then stop it!” Rich screamed, “You don’t fucking know, Jake. You’re fucking—the only relationships you’ve been in have been about sex and, and popularity, and you don’t understand this feeling.”

 It was as easy as that. Rich knew he’d twisted the knife, knew that maybe he’d taken it a step too far, but he didn’t deserve this. After years of pining, Jake didn’t get to reject him and then try to bed him. That wasn’t allowed. 

 When Jake spoke again, it was emotionless. Monotonous. Devoid of all humanity. Words on a page, scripted and controlled. Rich had lost all access to Jake. 

 “What happened with Chloe doesn’t define me. You know that, I know you know that, so don’t even fucking try me. I don’t know what it’s like to hide and lie about my feelings for years, but you don’t know what it’s like to watch the only person you’ve ever loved—”

 “Don’t say that.”

 “To watch the only person you’ve ever loved,” Jake repeated, more determined this time, “flinch away whenever you so much as look his way because he’s so insecure he can’t accept that maybe you want to spend the rest of your life with him.”

 Rich’s fists clenched. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up out of the hot tub, but he was standing by the door, dripping and scowling and on the verge of tears. 

 “Fuck you.”

 “Really? That’s it? Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me and it’s that simple. Tell me you know I want you.”

 “You’re my best friend.”

 Jake flinched at his own words thrown back at him. He kept his mouth clamped shut as Rich kept talking. 

 “You’re my best friend and I don’t know what the fuck is up with you tonight, but you told me yourself that we’re friends. I’m not going to let you ruin that with sex.”

 “That’s not what—”

 “I’m not going to let some half-hearted relationship ruin us, Jacob"

 Jake stayed silent, seemingly waiting for more. Rich watched him realize there was nothing left to say, that this was the end of the conversation. His lips were trembling. Rich wished they weren’t.

 “Fine,” Jake breathed. He sagged to the floor, knees pressed against the tile, hands clasped politely in front of him. “Fine. Friends. Best friends. If—if you really think being together would ruin us, then we’re just friends.” 

 “Good,” Rich said as if he couldn’t feel each cell within him bursting and bubbling with acidic heartbreak. “Friends.”

 They stayed there for a moment, waiting for some finale to hit—some final blow to tattoo this night in black on their skin—but there was only burning silence.

 “I’m going to bed,” Rich said finally. 

 Jake only nodded, still staring at the floor. Rich slipped from the room and screamed out sobs into his pillow until the sun forced light back into his life. 

 He stumbled through his morning routine, struggling to close his suitcase and stuff it into the trunk of their car. It wasn’t until he saw Jake, his smile bright but eyes tired, sitting alone in the dining room that the haze lifted just enough for him to realize friends ate breakfast together. 

 He sat down across from Jake without a word, and only once Jake looked up from his half-eaten breakfast did Rich force the skeleton of a smile onto his face. Jake mimicked it with much more success. 

 “Top of the morning to ya, buddy,” he said, the word buddy spat out like it hurt, “So, I was thinking, St. Louis is like an hour and a half away, maybe we stop there around noon, see the arch thingy, the move on. There’s a zoo like thirty minutes from there that we can stop at for a while. We can end the night in Wisconsin, see I don’t know, some small town, then tomorrow we can go to Minnesota?”

 Rich nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could speak yet. 

 “Great! I’ve still gotta pack up, so just let me do that, then we can hit the road.”

 Rich nodded again. Jake’s gaze lingered too long, flitting across his face, from his bloodshot eyes to his lips, before he finally looked away, his smile faltering. He cleared his throat. 

 “I’ll see ya in a bit, then.”

 “Yeah! Can’t wait.”

 Rich wished he could think of more to say, but the day seemed to be coated in an unbreakable silence. The car ride was awkward—Jake kept the radio off, choosing instead to prompt Rich with question after question as if they were kids meeting for the first time. Rich offered up every answer he had. He didn’t have many. 

 They stopped for ice cream sometime in the late afternoon, after a tense trip to the St. Louis arch during which Jake elbowed Rich after making a joke and Rich almost hyperventilated. 

 “What should I get?” Jake asked, surveying the menu. 

 “Whatever you want.”

 “I want you.”

 Rich whipped around to face him, every muscle in his body clenched and ready to fight. 

 “What?”

 “Raspberry looks good.”

 Rich didn’t push it., but the words echoed in his ribs until his lungs were bruised. 

 It happened again a week later. An art museum in Washington. 

 “It’s beautiful,” Rich said, staring in wonder at a painting of the ocean during a storm. 

 “So are you.”

 Rich didn’t turn to look at him. He scrutinized the painting, looking at every color and brushstroke until three minutes later, Jake had to go to the bathroom. 

 In California: An aquarium gift shop. 

 “Do you like it?” Jake asked, watching Rich hold a penguin stuffed animal against his chest.

 “I love it,” Rich said, his voice muffled by the fabric. He was hiding his face behind the wings so Jake wouldn’t see his eyes watering at the fact the cashier had called Jake such a good boyfriend for buying him the penguin.

 “I love y—”

 He had the decency to cut himself off. 

 “I’m glad you like it,” he amended, and it was left at that.

 Until Texas. A hotel twenty minutes from the Space Center Houston only had one room. Of course. 

 It had two beds. Rich sat upright in one, phone in hand, Michael on the other end. Michael didn’t know what had happened between Rich and Jake, but he did know Jake was on the other side of the room, headphones on as he stared at his computer doing one thing or another. Rich watched him, still helplessly in love despite the repeated heartbreak he experienced every time they did so much as make eye contact.

 “Las Vegas was so overhyped,” Rich complained, “Probably because Jake and I can’t legally gamble, but the hotel was so fucking cool. There was this giant fountain and so many lights. Almost had a panic attack because of the noise, but once I got over that it was sick.”

 “Las Vegas or San Fransisco?”

 “San Fransisco 100% buddy, not even a question. Food was great. I was a little scared we were gonna get devoured by a wildfire, but we ended up fine. East Coast is so much better, though. I can’t wait to get back. Jake said we can stop in the Everglades.”

 “You want to got to the Everglades?!”

 “Yes!! Snakes, Michael! I need to see a Burmese python and alligator fight to the death!”

 “You’re crazy.”

 “I’m well aware, but this is a childhood dream of mine that must be fulfilled before death takes me.”

 Michael laughed. Jake made a strangled sound from across the room. 

 Rich froze up and instinctively forced an awkward smile on his face, tense and unsure of what exactly had prompted Jake’s reaction. He glanced at his pretty sunflower out of the corner of his eye—his hunched shoulders, a posture that was so unlike him, his face illuminated by the computer screen. Rich cleared his throat to rip himself from admiring him. 

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m hilarious,” he choked out, “Okay, it’s—it’s late, I better get going now.”

 “It’s like 9—”

 “Night!”

 Rich hung up but stayed staring at his phone for far too long, terrified to do anything but. 

 “Are you okay?” Jake whispered. His computer was closed now and he was facing Rich, crisscrossed on his bed. Rich straightened and nodded. 

 “Yeah, yeah, just tired. Sorry.”

 “Have you been tired for the last three weeks?“ 

 Rich blinked at him, too focused on the blue of his eyes to comprehend his words. 

 “What?” he finally said. Jake just shook his head and turned off the lamp, deciding darkness was the best course of action. 

 Rich thought it would be him who’d be unable to sleep, haunted by blues and I love yous, but it was Jake who tossed and turned and writhed in his sheets, wrestling with some invisible enemy long after Rich fell asleep. 

 When Rich awoke the next morning, it was to Jake packing his suitcase. He stayed still for a moment, admiring Jake as he carefully folded each shirt, hands gentle and sure of themselves. Since Illinois, every look he’d given Rich was coated in a layer of lies Rich hadn’t been on the receiving end of since sophomore year. 

He didn’t know Rich was watching him now. He looked sad, irrevocably so. The tip of his nose was red, the first sign of sadness. Then it was the parted lips—he was a snotty crier. Rich learned that after watching Bambi with him. He’d been crying, and now he couldn’t breathe through his nose. His chest was moving up and down in stuttery, unsure movements, and after every piece of folded laundry, he had to pause to press the heel of his hand against his mouth to stifle a sob. 

 “What’s wrong?” Rich rushed out, the usual sluggishness of his mornings completely eradicated by Jake—Jake crying. 

 Jake jumped at the sound of Rich’s voice and regained his composure within a split second. There was suddenly a smile, open body language, and eyes that remained just as dead as before. 

 “You’re awake! I have something for you.”

 “I don’t care, what’s—”

 “No, no, trust me, you’ll care, hold on.”

 Still smiling beautifully, he turned to the desk and grabbed two pieces of paper. Then, movements peppy and face alight, he sat down in front of Rich and handed them to him. 

 “Okay…?” Rich said, looking down at the pieces of paper with little interest—Jake. Crying. Jake. Crying. That was all he was worried about. 

 Until he realized the papers were printed out plane tickets. One to Florida, the flight set to leave eight hours from then. Another three days later, from Florida to New Jersey. He reread the words. Then reread them. And again. And again. 

 All he could get out was, “What the fuck?”

 “You can see the Everglades!” Jake said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

 “Well—well yeah, but… we’re driving there? Together?”

 Jake shook his head. “No, yeah, we were, but—I mean, after Illinois…”

 He paused to clear his throat and look away. Rich was on the verge of screaming, but that could wait until Jake had finished whatever shitty explanation he was about to offer. The longer the silence lasted, the more Jake’s sunny demeanor faded out.

 “After Illinois, I mean you don’t—you aren’t happy, Rich. Not around me. Last night, like, with Michael—” Rich had never heard Jake struggle with words this much. He was stuttering, tripping over his words, raising his volume too high then lowering it to the point Rich could barely hear him. “—you were talking to him, and you won’t do that with me anymore, and I want you to talk like that because it’s—fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and if you can’t do that around me anymore—because I fucked up and apparently ruined the best thing to ever happen to me—then maybe some time apart would be good for us?”

 Jake looked up at Rich hopefully. Rich wasn’t sure what he was hoping for and he didn’t have the energy to figure it out through the anger crawling inside his skin. 

 “You’re kicking me out?”

 “No! No. I just think you should have the chance to be—no, I need the chance to—I want you to be happy—”

 “I’m happy.”

 “You won’t even look at me. You won’t talk to me. I’m hurting you.”

 Rich suddenly understood why Jake had looked so heartbroken after hearing the phrase you’re my best friend. Having his words manipulated and turned against him hurt more than the flames ever had.

 “That’s—no—”

 “And I thought I could fix it by just being your friend, but we’re not even that anymore. I want us to be. So badly. I can’t lose you. I can’t go to Harvard without coming home to you every night. And I’ll do anything to save us, and right now that means you have to get away from me.”

 “Stop—”

 “So I got you tickets to go see the Everglades. I even booked you a boat tour. I’m not sure about seeing a Burmese python, but you can try. Then you can have the rest of summer in New Jersey with Michael and everyone else, and we can meet up in Boston, and everything will be okay.”

 “Jake—”

 “I can’t ruin another relationship. I know I have a bad track record, I know I can’t commit or be romantic, and you’re probably right to realize I’d destroy whatever beautiful thing we managed to create, but honestly, you’re more beautiful than anything I could ever make, and I can’t destroy that, I have to protect that, even if I’m not around to see it for a while.” 

 “No—”

 “But I can move on while we’re apart, and hopefully you can too, then we can be best friends in Boston and roommates forever and you can get married and I can pretend I’m happy for y—”

 Rich kissed him. Quick and sloppy and frantic. It was hypocritical, to say the least, self-destructive if Rich was being completely honest with himself. But the feeling of Jake falling into it, pressing closer and moving so his trembling hands could press against Rich’s waist and back, was intoxicating.

 Rich kept it short, though the feeling of just Jake’s gentleness was enough for him to want more. 

 He pulled back, Jake trailing after him until he collapsed against Rich, forehead pressed to Rich’s shoulder and lips pressed to his neck and collarbone. 

 “I don’t understand,” he said between kisses. Rich promised himself he’d memorize the feeling before it was taken from him. 

 “I’d rather be heartbroken with you than happy with anyone else,” Rich explained softly, tangling his fingers in Jake’s hair and pulling his head back to look him in the eye. Jake breathed out a sound Rich chose not to identify and tried to lean up and kiss Rich again.  

 “You’re not ruinous,” Rich got out just before Jake gifted him kiss after kiss like offerings to a god, “You’re not destructive and Chloe doesn’t define you and I’m sorry I implied she did, I shouldn’t have, and I’m terrified I’m gonna lose you and terrified this is all a prank and terrified you’re going to leave—”

 “Never,” Jake confessed, eyes closed and expression melted into pure bliss. “Never, ever, ever. It took me too long to realize how bad I want you. I can’t lose more time.”

 “I want you too.”

 “I want you to be happy.”

 “I can be once I get my head out of my ass and realize you’re even more perfect than I thought.”

 Jake laughed soundlessly and pulled Rich onto his lap. “Perfect?”

 “You’re gorgeous. You’re kind. You’d never purposefully hurt me, and I was stupid to think you would. I just—it hurt. The car. You telling me—Jake, I was still in survival mode. I didn’t mean anything I said. I swear it. Please don’t make me leave.”

 Jake shook his head. 

 “No, I won’t. I can’t. I’m sorry for what I said in the car. That wasn’t cool or okay, I just… panicked? Because I always knew—I didn’t want to say it, or think it, or acknowledge it, but I knew, and you saying it made it so real I couldn’t even pretend I could ever want anyone else and that was—I wasn’t ready for that to hit so suddenly.”

 Rich felt so warm inside he was convinced he was going to overheat and collapse in on himself like a dying star. He kissed Jake like he was made of roses until he was convinced he’d erased every terrible thought he’d placed in Jake’s mind in Illinois. 

 “So we’re going to stop being cowards now,” Rich said, clear and determined, “And I’m going to be happy because the most beautiful boy in the world decided I’m worth his time and he’s going to be happy because now I’m here to tell him he’s the most beautiful boy in the world every single morning, and that he can’t kick me to the curb even if he tries.”

 Jake laughs and nods and kisses him again. 

 “God,” he whispered, tracing stars on Rich’s hips, “I’ve never been so glad I wasted two thousand dollars in my life.”

 “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

 There was a short, weighted pause. Then, “Wait, did you say two thousand? Jake, flights to Florida should not be two thousand dollars.”

 “Well, not for economy.”

 “Econ—you were planning on giving me first-class tickets to Florida to soften the blow of practically breaking up with me?”

 Jake was too giddy to be offended. He wrapped himself around Rich and kissed him again. 

 “It seemed like a good idea at the time, shut up.”

 “No, I am not shutting up, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. We’re going to seriously work on your spending habits in Boston, buddy—baby—you’ve got the rest of the summer to be an idiot with your money, then we’re starting a retirement fund. For fuck's sake, you’re going to be broke by the time you’re thirty.”

[thefloatingbed]

Travel Ramble: 2017

WARNING: It’s extremely long, unedited and self indulgent. 

My first actual backpack trip was in 2012 when I traveled to Paris, Madrid and Barcelona in between two jobs. It was a big deal for me for various reasons. Also, while I was meeting my friend Sowm (short for Sowmyatta) for the Spain leg, I was going to be on my own in Paris for the first and last three days of my trip. I was unbelievably nervous. At that time, I didn’t know that while I am so talented at consuming alcohol on earth, my body cannot handle alcohol when I am suspended in the air. So to ease my nerves and to summon the courage to be rude to the old uncle sitting next to me who was fucking chewing my brains out (I have a crazy amount of old uncle stories), I drank a small bottle of red wine. Just an hour later, everything in my stomach was somersaulting. I controlled my urge to vomit on the uncle, which would have been my ultimate revenge, and somehow found my way to the washroom.

In five years, I have become a better-prepared and perhaps a more evolved “traveler” (even though I have now developed a crazy and irrational fear of flying itself since the last couple of years, but that’s another story). Traveling is intricately bound with the way I live. I keep shedding my stuff to keep it to a bare minimum to be able to run away at a moment’s notice. I have also always been very romantic about the idea of uprooting and beginning over and over again. But I must confess that as I am growing older, I am unfortunately getting attached to my base (Bombay). I still like spending a LOT of time outside Bombay but I now look forward to coming back. Anyways, back to my travel notes for now.

My most recent trip was to Portugal and Spain (Lisbon – Madrid – Seville – Lisbon – Sintra (one day trip) – Lisbon – Lagos – Sagres (one day trip to a stranger’s washroom and to a bus stop of Sagres with a view of a supermarket) – Lagos – Lisbon). The first three days in the cobblestoned Lisbon passed like sand through my hands. With a crazy hangover on the third day, I took an overnight bus to Madrid. My nine days in Madrid were more like being at home, mostly because of my friend who hosted me in his beautiful home and of this being my second time in Madrid. My days mostly involved communicating with ducks and tortoises in my eternally favorite Retiro park, finding shortcuts to walk to Retiro, getting lost in Retiro, doing some journal writing in Retiro and sometimes having my lunch, well, in Retiro. Apart from the park, I just visited two local galleries, Reina Sofia museum, and one more new area in Madrid called Lavapies to see some street art. My friend and I went to pretty much the same local watering hole every night for cheap beers and then just walked aimlessly around till midnight.

Till Madrid I was still connected to the shreds of my life back home but the moment I got to Seville after another long bus ride, and fell head over heels in love with it instantly, I decided to pretty much cut off except for my occasional Instagram posts. I was anyways only connected to my phone when I had a WiFi connection which was usually for like 10% of my entire day. Seville is where I started collecting myself thoroughly. I had a rough year for multiple reasons, and unlike during one of my earlier travel experiences where I brutally suppressed whatever I was going through before leaving and ended up with a severe depression all throughout the holiday, this time I let all kinds of thoughts play out in my head in whatever way they pleased. There was something inherently honest about Seville’s beauty and character (especially one district I visited called Triana which is now my soulmate district) which really helped. It was the best place to be completely on my own. I ate 80% of my meals at the same restaurant and the waiter asked me after my few times there if I was thinking of moving to Seville. Every stormy thought in my head slowly settled down with every gorgeous building/house I passed, with every person I ended up meeting there especially during the free communal dinners at my hostel, and with every experience I had with a stranger including an extremely random old aunty who convinced me that I am a “great catch”. I just laughed and didn’t have the heart to tell her that being a “catch” is the last thing on my mind right now.

Talking about being a catch though, remember the old uncle stuff I mentioned in the beginning - so that spiralled out of control during this trip. Old uncles (and only old uncles) love to chat or flirt with me. Specifically during this trip, I met old uncles at the metro stations, in the metro, at the park, at the supermarket (where my friend/host in Madrid left me for like five minutes and an old Spanish uncle painstakingly used his broken English to tell me that he really liked my shoes), and at benches (at a bench in my favorite plaza in Seville, one continued talking to me in Spanish despite of me continually telling him that I don’t speak Spanish. After a while, I gave up and just nodded to whatever he was saying) – you name the location and I’ll find you a chatty or flirty old uncle.

Apart from the uncles and a few sweet boys me and my friend Sowm met in our hostel in Lisbon, I also had long conversations with a lot of interesting women during this trip – a nurse from Boston, USA; a Greek woman from the USA now working in London in a company’s HR department; a woman in the wine business in Amsterdam; a Latina woman from the USA who used to work in Peace Corps and was now travelling for more than six months, doing small jobs on the go to pay for her travels; and an American nanny now based in Barcelona for a few months.

I got onto my third long bus ride from Seville to Lisbon where Sowm was joining me for the last ten days of the trip. A bit about Sowm – a story that we must have told to at least 20 people during our entire trip because as soon as she would say she is from Texas and I am from Mumbai, people just wanted to know how we ended up traveling together – we spent four years in school together (completely irrelevant piece of fact but our school was called Harvard Academy and Harvard University actually sued our school and now it’s called Hillwoods Academy. True fucking story) where we weren’t really thick pals. She then moved to the US and I came to Mumbai. Somehow though, through crazy technological divine intervention, we got back in touch and started swapping stories about our non existent love and average work lives. Our random conversations shape-shifted into a traveling plan in 2012 which is when we met in Madrid after 10 years and realized we were just talented at travelling together. We obviously became even better friends over the last five years during which Sowm also got married to an amazing guy, before meeting again in Lisbon last month. We also realized, especially during this trip, that we are extremely and eerily similar to each other in so many ways. We share our demons as easily as we share a bottle of delicious wine and fits of laughter over the most inane things. 

So well, Lisbon with Sowm was a rollercoaster ride as we walked the hell out in different parts of the city and crunched a lot of experiences in a short duration. We also ended up meeting all our hostel roommates at a hill in (the highly overrated) Sintra completely accidentally and got a picture together. 

From Lisbon, we took a six-hour bus ride and headed to what turned out to be a very shady hostel in the absolutely stunning all-white Lagos in the Algarve region of Portugal. We hated the washroom of our hostel so much that we didn’t shower for four days and just took dips in the ocean (I am half-kidding). Among many other places in Lagos, we ended up going to a terrific bar owned by a terrific woman called MJ where Sowm became the queen of pub quiz and earned herself free shots. I was so fucking proud when she screamed “Litmus Test” as an answer to one of the questions and the entire room turned to look at us. MJ was so impressed that she eventually told us about her life and how she ended up starting MJ’s bar.  Another highlight of Lagos was that I almost drowned in the ocean when Sowm suggested that I sit down to take it all in as a really strong wave was about to grace us with its arrival. I was pretty much swallowed by that wave but Sowm managed to drag me out. Did I mention that both of us don’t know how to swim? Anyways, Sowm convinced me that many old uncles stepped up to save me. Since she specifically said old uncles, I was convinced that they really would have saved me. We came out giggling. We were also a bit high on wine of course.

I already covered the one day trip to Sagres from Lagos in my itinerary description earlier so I will skip that. 

At the bus stop at Lagos to catch our bus to Lisbon where we had one final day of our holiday together, my heart had started sinking - mainly with the anticipation of the mangled up stuff I would have to practically deal with and sort out once I head back. One part of me was ready to deal with everything, but another wanted to hide in one of the smaller towns in Algarve, working at a bar and learning how to swim in my free time. Anyhow, the last day in Lisbon just involved walking some more, picking up wine and trinkets to carry back home, waiting outside a restaurant for an hour while drinking wine sitting on the pavement, etc, and I had no other anxiety except about being on two different planes for about ten hours .

[nehslebasi]

2016, in pictures and text

This is going to be a very long post. A very very long post. A very very very long post. 

I’m thankful this year happened. All the tears, laughs, travels, anxiety, everything. Hoping 2016 will shape me (positively) into who I’m meant to become in the future - 2017 and beyond.

January 2016

I honestly don’t remember anything I did this month lol. I was still consistently running. Outings with Crew. Outings with my (then) 8th grade girls. Visited Lighthouse in Torrance. All I have are good, if not neutral, feelings of this month.

February 2016

Let’s just say it turned out to be the worst month of this year, and I’ll never stop missing her and wondering how different this year would have been if she were still here. So what do you do? Drink it away with your friends on Valentine’s. Go to the beach. Play board games. Go to Zinc cafe and drink Blue Bottle. Pretend you’re fine until you’re fine.

March 2016

Clara’s birthday at Bestia, where we ran into one of our Sunday school kids, asked if we wanted to take shots through lamb bone marrow lol. The setting sun and deepening pink sky behind the LA skyline as we coasted by on the freeway. Driving down to Playa Del Rey and squeezing through their narrow lanes to an ADX alumni reunion by the beach. Jack Garratt concert with Jacky, losing myself in sound. A day of exhilaration and pressuring my friends to ride roller coasters at Knott’s, and pretty much failing at that haha. 

April 2016

Coffee dates/study parties at Arts District. OC sushi and sake, where our waiter gave us complimentary sake and ice cream! Weekly Sunday lunches in Pasadena, always wearing a summery dress, always getting acai bowls. Multiple beach trips. Brunch at Perch with APR. Noah Gundersen at Hotel Cafe, where he answered a question I asked! Visited my sister’s work at Scripps even though I was dead-ass sick. And probably the #1 favorite concert I’ve ever been to, FOREVER, so much that I’m going to find them again every time they’re near me. Hullo Shadowboxers, hullo Hotel Cafe.

May 2016

Ran a half-marathon! (And couldn’t walk for days afterward) Turned 23. Treated to brunch at Republique and gifted a beautiful stick-figure drawing of us. Took a million jumping pictures by a fabric warehouse. Caught strep throat and a disgusting case of conjunctivitis. Election anxiety kicking in. Started taking this “applying to PA school” thing seriously. 

June 2016

Took a break from running (read: got lazy). Upset that the Cavaliers won. In the library or coffee shop every weekend to work on PA school apps and write my personal statement. (Shout out to Bean Town, Nest Teahouse). A Koreatown night market, lots of smoke, lots of food, lots of red lipstick. Drove to San Diego for a large-scale sleepover/reunion (and screenshotted the pictures lol)! Oscar’s fish tacos, a rooftop bar, a Werewolf bar, more ramen and pork belly than we could stomach... 

July 2017

One of my favorite, if not most stressful, months of 2016. Submitted my completed grad school application. Sushi and drinks with Angie in Pasadena. Sparklers and pyro activities at Jacky’s on the fourth. Roller-bladed by the sea with Bri from Santa Monica down to Venice, drank our way into a happy sunset buzz at a rooftop bar by the Pier, and rode the warm smooth buzz all the way back to USC on the Expo Line. Watched HP 1 with a live orchestra playing the score at the Hollywood Bowl. Ice cream and boy-stories in South Pas. Viv’s birthday right in our home turf. Started volunteering at my city’s hospital ER. Relient K released a new album. Started going to community group with Reality LA. Discussing political issues every Sunday with my friends, because I’m surrounding by men and women who care about them. Such a wonderful month :)

August 2016

Pizza and catch-ups at Old Town Pas, spilling about relationships with old friends. Exploring Santa Monica and walking for miles with the Crew in a looooong scavenger hunt that we have yet to complete! Frank Ocean drops his albums and changes my life, again. Oliver Sacks dies and I’m heartbroken. Drove through the winding Palos Verdes for a friend’s birthday. Crush on every young Murse. A wedding in San Diego, feeling regal in a borrowed navy dress and tall heels, a little too much to drink, as per usual haha.

September 2016

Crashed summer retreat at UCSD, ate too many tacos, more Tacos El Gordo, ate too much pho, just too much of everything in general lol. Crossed that rickety bridge. Binge watch Atlanta and Stranger Things. Start prepping for PA school interviews. Fly to New York for an interview at Cornell. Drag my little blue suitcase everywhere with me. It’s pouring rain the first day. Meet with Yenmin to eat Halal Guys, and Jaimie for udon and gelato. Navigating the city at night and running to catch the trains and buses. A couple nights in Jaimie’s beautiful apartment in Manhattan five stories up from the sidewalk, a brisk morning in my mom’s borrowed heels, a vegetable cream cheese bagel and coffee, a stressful interview at an ivy league, bleeding raw feet the whole day till I just had to give up and take them off. Walk through Central Park, the Met, coffee shops wearing Walgreens roll-up flats and business formal for 15+ miles till I can feel my feet bruising and my hair frizzing. Pizza and drinks with Jackie and Joyce in Soho. Little Italy’s night market. Frank Ocean, and a NY Times to and fro from NY--a beautiful city I won’t forget. JR JR/Saint Motel concert with Jess the night I land back in LA. Watched an ER patient get lungs drained, car dies in the hospital parking lot at midnight. Oh Wonder, Kevin Garrett concert with Feebs. Another memorable month :)

October 2016

Lightbulb/Third wheel dates with Clara and Justin begin (ok, unofficially in September, but officially in October)! Get a hit list of things to do in Chicago from ER guy. Fly to Chicago for an interview at Northwestern. Get picked up by Angie and drive toward her apartment in the city, become captivated by the skyline and sky. Eat my first Chicago dog. Absolutely enthralled by her cat Wrigley (and am now a cat person as a result). Venture out to Navy Pier and get caught in the pouring, storming rain. Deep dish at Giordano’s. Coffee and croissant before the interview, become attached to the program, would do ANYTHING to be accepted. Tacos at Del Seoul, some rain, Big Hero Six in pajamas as the wind blows and sun sets. Traverse through The Loop, see the Bean, the river, eat brunch/pancakes/everything, inspired by the running people preparing for the Chicago Marathon, in awe at the peace and clean grandeur of this place. It was difficult to leave. Cried after the second presidential debate because I couldn’t believe what my family was saying. Chop off my hair. Fly to Boston for an interview at MCPHS, immediately struck by the cold and beauty of this old city (and how much I suck at navigating its public transport system). Wrapped up with happiness and love while staying with my big. Walking by the Charles to the trains in the rain, a huge Bartleby’s burger and milkshake, a bookstore by Harvard U. A cloudy morning at a coffee shop with a bomb playlist and apple turnover and chai. Most amiable interview. Museum of Fine Arts, fresh seafood, another bookstore with a cafe in the middle, a long walk back home :). Coffee, the Library, Boston Commons and Boston public Gardens, a cemetery where many founders were buried, Flour bakery (nerded out about Joanne Chang), Quincy Market, Warren Anatomical Museum, JFK Library. I am in love with this city, it was also difficult to leave (plus Logan Airport had the nicest staff). And on the 31st, Hallelujah Night in a onesie.

November 2016

My friend Lynette gets engaged! We’re there to surprise her in the parking lot of the Huntington Gardens, and plan her engagement party. 11/8, the most wonderful and horrible day. I get the call that I was accepted to the school of my dreams. America elects a fool. Fly to New Jersey while listening to The Shins and watching the changing leaves through the airplane window. Stay with a gracious family during the interview at Rutgers and catch up with an old friend over Halal Guys. Kill time by reading Profiles in Courage. Realize that at this point, I’m a little burnt out with interviewing and flying back and forth across the country. Watch USC win the USC-UCLA game! Make my friends watch Stranger Things. Thanksgiving at Vincent’s. Relient K and Switchfoot concert of my DREAMS with drinks and fries before and during. Binge watch Gilmore Girls reboot and argue about who’s better: Jess or what’s-his-name, and how awful Rory and Lorelai are and how awful this reboot was!!

December 2016

Second Shadowboxer’s concert, which becomes my 2nd favorite concert ever, after my 1st favorite, which was also a Shadowboxers concert (I’m obsessed with them can you tell). Coworker shows me how to put on falsies. Dinner and stomachaches and being babysat in Old Town. The Paper Kites with Viv, and way too much food from friendly restaurant staff, and hand-banging fans who scream and clearly love The Paper Kites lol. Once more the Duke of Mediterranean Cafe. Last day volunteering. Jon’s Bday in Pas. A day in Little Tokyo and Arts District with Hannah. Vivian’s first sleepover. La La Land on Christmas Eve, dumplings on Christmas, no day off. Catch up drinks with gov kids. Administer my first Rocephin injection via dorsogluteal IM. Lots of visitors, including Yenmin and Jacky. Spend New Years Eve at Urgent Care, popping meds, and rereading A Swiftly Tilting Planet. :)

And that’s a wrap! This was supposed to be reflective and not a catalog of stuff... but welp that’s what it turned out to be. I’m grateful for surviving another year with inspiring and supportive people and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. Thank you thank you thank you, because you guys make life more interesting and beautiful. :)

Favorite Books: The Wind-up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro, Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, Profiles in Courage by JFK

Here’s to a brighter 2017.

[fourseasonslodgenh]

When You Have Extra Cash - Choose a Vacation, Not Toys

​The other day, a friend asked me what my earliest memory was.

Hmmm... I had to give it some thought. Was it a toy I got for Christmas? The time we had a picnic at the beach? When Mom and I made an angel food cake with colored sprinkles? Or the day I got to row a rowboat all by myself?

It was most certainly the day my Dad let me row the rowboat all by myself.  I was about 5 years old and I was so happy and proud.

I started reminiscing about my childhood and all the fun, funny, happy, and memorable times I could remember were all "events" and not "things".

My work gig is that I own Four Seasons Lodge in North Conway, NH and realizing that my fondest memories growing up were almost exclusively time spent with family or friends playing, vacationing, and celebrating was an epiphany for me.

I started to wonder if I was onto something - turns out I was.1. What Makes Kids Happier? Vacations With Loved Ones or Toys?

Have you ever watched a house-full of kids opening presents on Christmas morning? In most households, it's bedlam.

Thousands of dollars of sought after toys and games are carefully wrapped and placed under the tree by "Santa".

It took many hours of shopping, buying, wrapping, working for the money to buy the presents, and about 45 minutes to find yourself engulfed in a sea of wrapping paper with several kids playing with their one favorite toy. You know what happens to the other multitude of toys that are NOT their favorites. It boggles my mind.

Every year at Four Seasons Lodge, I get a worried phone call from a grandmother somewhere in New England. They fret and stammer to me on the phone that they have NO idea what to buy their kids for birthdays and holidays - never-mind their grandkids.

Grandma drones on for a while longer about the cost of toys and that she wants to get them the perfect toy but know their parents will get them what's #1 on their list.

Finally, she gets down to business. She wants to book my lodge for a vacation but she frets that the grandkids won't be excited about a vacation.

Fast-forward to the first day of the family vacation. The younger set is very excited about going away, the tweens are pouting about leaving their friends, and the teenagers are miserable and tweeting/texting/Facebooking their friends about this God-forsaken place called North Conway.

Day Two of Vacation: Kids of all ages meet me at the door to tell how their Dad tried a rope swing when they were Saco River tubing or they all caught frogs when they went on a hike, or they went on the Ferris wheel alone for the first time!

Although my sample size is tiny, I have been welcoming guests for almost 28 years and I have yet to see kids that are not enjoying their vacation time with their family!

I'm in good company with my thinking that vacations are better than toys.  

Britain's bestselling psychological author, Oliver James, writes about the relationships between children and their parents. He has noted that around

one in five gifts we give our children are not actually wanted or valued

.

Parents, friends, and relatives still continue the cycle of buying too much which results in bins, shelves, and closets getting filled with unused and unloved toys.

2. Will Vacations Really Make My Kid Smarter?

Family Time at Story Land

​The

US Department of Education

says YES!

They did a study of the effects of vacation on the academic achievement of children from Kindergarten to 5th grade. They paid specific attention to the areas of reading, math, and general knowledge.

​The results of that study showed that children that vacationed scored higher on academic achievement tests and they get a bonus boost in achievement if the trips were educational in nature.

At a glance:

Children who traveled with their families scored higher on academic achievement assessment tests than those who did not travel.

The number of days spent on family trips positively affected academic achievement.

Children who spent time at museums, historical sites, state parks, and even the zoo and beach had significantly higher academic achievement scores than those who did not.

​

According to Dr William Norman, Associate Professor in Parks, Recreation, and Tourism Management at Clemson University in South Carolina, family travel is a valuable part of a child's education that "contributes to cognitive growth and stimulates a child's sense of wonderment. Providing kids with the experience of travel broadens their horizons and opens up their minds to learning."

I love the way this expert thinks! James Oliver goes on to say, "On the other hand, family holidays are definitely valued by children, both in the moment and for long afterward in their memory. So if you're going to spend money on something, it's pretty clear which option makes more sense." He also states that most adults and children would prefer experiences over material things. -- I agree.​​Have you ever heard, "Can you play with me?" I know I have!

Even though kids have every toy and game they ask for, they insist they are bored. Parents plan multiple playdates, activities, and lessons to keep kids active and quiet but ultimately, it's one on one face time they are craving.

Give in. Plan some together time, make memories, share experiences, and you'll have a happier and more intelligent kid to boot!3. Toys Are Disposable - Memories Last Forever

​Have you ever gone to a yard sale?

Going to yard sales is a summertime sport for me. I love vintage odds and ends and usually can find a few keepers every summer.

What is very noticeable at most yard sales is the overwhelming amount of toys compared to other items. Many times games, books, and stuffed animals have not even been opened or have the tags still on them.

It's sad that most families fall into the trap that kids need a popular toy that is on every second commercial. The reality is that toys, even if your children love certain ones, are only a part of their lives for a short time.

Family vacations and the memories that will definitely be made, will be a part of their lives forever. It would be awesome if families made vacations their priority instead of today's version of the Cabbage Patch Doll.4. Family Vacations Get Kids Off Technology

Most kids left to their own devices these days, will choose technology over being outdoors.

Technology certainly has its' place in their lives but time spent outdoors is very important for children.

According to

Harvard Medical School

, children need to be out in the sunshine to make Vitamin D, they'll get more exercise outside, it boosts executive function, it enhances social skills, and will give them an appreciation of nature and the environment.

5. Experiences, Not Toys Will Make Them More Well Rounded!

OK, now it's time to plan a vacation. After reading that vacations can make your kids smarter, it will be tempting to cram education down their throats. Remember that everything does not need to have a purpose.

Kids live very structured lives with most parents working full-time plus. Imagine how awesome it would be to go on vacation and sleep in late snuggling with a loved one with no schedule for the day.

You're getting a break from work, let you kids have a break from a hard and fast schedule. Ask them what they'd like to do for the day. Just realize that even if you go for a walk or have a pillow fight, they will be learning more than you realize.

They might be learning from you, about you, and maybe even with you.

I remember one trip I took with my 8-year-old son and his Dad plus, my parents. We were sitting around in the RV one night and my son started asking my parents all sorts of questions.

Before I knew it, we had discussed WWII, the Great Depression, my Dad picking weeks from rows of carrots when he was 8 years old on a huge farm, my Mom growing up sleeping in a 3/4 (that's SMALL!) size bed with her Mom and sister, and how my folks remembered signs in windows in town saying, "No Irish Allowed".

Yep, my vote goes to experiences, not toys.

If you're a facts and figures person, it's said that the average household spends $700 per child on toys a year.

I don't know about you, but I could plan a few awesome camping experiences for way less than that!  Every state has State Parks, National Parks are all over the place and out west there are Grasslands and BLM lands with very low fees for camping.

Whatever kind of vacation would make you smile, the most important thing is to take everyone into consideration. Just because you get giddy over an art museum doesn't mean that your 8 year old will agree.

I mention

camping

because it's typically the most cost-effective vacation you can take. The #1 reason folks say they don't take many vacations is cost. Most kids would be just as happy toasting marshmallows over a campfire as taking a Caribbean cruise - what they will pay attention to and remember is all the laughing, smiling, and memories they made with you.

Happy trails wherever your travel takes you.

Teena

www.FourSeaosonsLodge.com

Four Seasons Lodge

31 Whiskiers Lane

North Conway, NH 03860

​(603) 662-5391

​

[taniasinel]

The Most Beautiful Ball

  Did you happen to see the photographs on Instagram of the Swan Ball?  If you are a fan of Mark Sikes and Sarah Bartholomew – this year’s Swan Ball was made for you!   I know it was for me.

   Each year in Nashville, the Swan Ball is held to raise funds for Cheekwood, the mansion and botanical garden located on 55 acres in the Nashville Hills.

Mark and Sarah served as this year’s esteemed Event Designers of The Swan Ball – and as you can imagine Cheekwood was bathed in their favorite color.  The tables were pure Mark and Sarah.  These two are a perfect match and probably should be working together – they would set the design world on fire, even though they already have, separately!!!

Mark lives and works in L.A., but Sarah lives in Nashville – so their pairing for the Swan Ball makes perfect sense with Sarah holding down the fort, locally.  I was drooling over the table settings when they started popping up on Instagram this weekend.  They were gorgeous.

But first, what IS the Swan Ball?

This year is the 55th Annual Swan Ball and it is Nashville’s social highlight of the year.  Held each June, it benefits Cheekwood Estate and Gardens.   The dress is very elegant – white tie.  This partial list of who’s who from past years Swan Balls gives you a clue of how first class this event truly is.

PAST SWAN AWARD RECIPIENTS:

The Honorable Walter H. Annenberg Dr. Armand Hammer Mr. Kip Forbes Mr. Albert Hadley!!! Mrs. Anne Hendricks Bass Mrs. Lynne S. Wyatt Mario Buatta!!! Bunny Williams!!!

PAST ENTERTAINERS:

Johnny Cash Tony Bennett Jay Leno Diana Ross Aretha Franklin Reba McEntire

PAST DESIGNER EXHIBITIONS:

Oscar de la Renta!!! Bill Blass!!! Carolina Herrera!!! Carolyne Roehm!!! Jacqueline de Ribes Halston

PAST JEWELRY EXHIBITORS:

Tiffany!!! Cartier!!! Bulgari!!! Harry Winston Van Cleef and Arpels Mish

This year the entertainer was the singer Sheryl Crow, the jeweler was Mish, and the honoree was Carolina Herrera.  Not bad!

The event is so special the actual Swan Auction is held three weeks before the Ball.  On the night of the ball, the elders eat at Cheekwood, while the younger set have their own party and dinner at Massey Hall at the Botanical Center. After dinner, they come to see the “late night” entertainment over at the Late Party at Cheekwood.

To read the auction items go HERE.

And before all the festivities even start, in February there is an Unveiling Party to announce the details of the ball and to see a preview of the décor.

In other words, it is quite an event, to say the least!!!

The Swan Ball Event Designers Mark Sikes and Sarah Bartholomew at the Unveiling Party this past February.

Hmmm.  I wonder what their Décor Scheme for this year’s Swan Ball will be?!?!

Meanwhile, I’m busy staring at that Cy Twombly!! 

 Mark Sikes is known for his casual style and his love of the color blue.  Here is a living room he designed – a vision in blue and white.

But, Mark uses other colors, sometimes, as long as they blend with blue!  I love this room!!!  And that’s his own rug!  Love, love, love that rug.

Mark’s design partner for the Swan Ball, Sarah Bartholomew, is a rising star in Nashville.

Be sure to visit Sarah and Mark’s blogs for their photos from the Swan Ball!!

Sarah’s design for an entry hall is bathed in blue.  One of my favorite foyers ever!!  LOVE!!

While Sarah loves blue and white like Mark, she also does a lot of green.  She especially loves to mix green with blue.

So…what design scheme do you think Mark and Sarah came up with for the Swan Ball?  Blue and white?  Blue with red?  Green and white?  Green with blue???

Patience, patience.

First, let’s take a look at the Cheekwood mansion:

Cheekwood Art and Gardens is located 10 miles southeast of downtown Nashville on the once private estate known simply as Cheekwood.  The 55 acres contain 12 distinct gardens, including a Japanese Garden, numerous ponds, fountains, walkways, and paths.   There is the Pineapple Room restaurant on the property, the large Massey Hall, the Museum of Art, the Frist Learning Center and the Wills Perennial Garden.

The Museum of Art, is the centerpiece of Cheekwood:  it is located in the 1920s Georgian mansion once owned by the Cheek Family.  The Frist Learning Center is located in the original carriage house and stables.

  The story goes that in the 1920s young Mabel Cheek bought a floor to ceiling gilt mirror at an antique shop.  It was too tall for the home she and her husband Leslie lived in, so he said either sell the mirror or they would have to move.  Apparently Mabel chose to move and that is how Cheekwood came to be built.

The couple met when the single Mabel Wood stopped in Kentucky while on a train trip.  Leslie Cheek noticed Mabel and asked her name and where she was going.  A few days later a mutual friend brought Leslie to Mabel’s house to properly meet her.  He wooed her with weekly gifts of candy and flowers and in 1896, they married in Clarksville.  After the wedding, Leslie worked for CT Cheek & Sons, the family’s wholesale grocery distributor.

The wedding of Mabel and Leslie Cheek.

In 1929, after Mabel had bought her oversized mirror, they hired Bryant Fleming to design a 36 room, 30,000 sq ft house.

Cheekwood, as it was being built.

Originally the property covered 100 acres, and today, it is on 50 acres.   But,  since Cheekwood is right next to The Warner Parks, together, the two properties are over 2,684 acres of woodland, all designed by Bryant Fleming.   Bryant was not only the architect of Cheekwood,  he also acted as the interior and landscape designer.   When built, the Limestone house had 9 bedrooms, 12 bathrooms, an elevator, a hidden staircase, and a library to hold the 1000s of books in the Cheeks’ collection.   For their two children, son Leslie Jr. and daughter Huldah, separate suites were built.  The house was furnished with English antiques from the 17th and 18th centuries.

Cheekwood, named after Leslie Cheek and Mabel Wood. 

A early aerial view from the rear.  You can see how the loggia on the back side of the house was originally open aired, with no doors.  Today it is closed off with extra tall French doors.  At the left of the main house are the carriage houses and stables.  Today, there is an additional new building there that is the site of the Frist Learning Center.  And notice the reflecting pool at the right of the house.  The drawing room overlooks this area.

1958.  The original fountain at the back of the house.  At one time the open air loggia was closed off by shutters as seen here.  Today, it is completely enclosed behind French doors.

Today:  A winter view of the back of Cheekwood shows the loggia with the installed French doors.  The same fountain remains.  At the left of the house you can see a rather ugly gray addition – this building was added in the 60s in order to provide necessary utilitarian rooms and fire escapes, etc.  for the art museum, as the house now is.

1958.  The original stables.   When the house was completed, the Cheek children were both in college, at Harvard and Bryn Mawr.  They kept their horses at home in the Cheekwood stables. 

Today.   The original stables on the right and the carriage house on the left.  A new contemporary building was added to connect these two vintage structures.  This is now the Frist Learning Center.

The stables and carriage house decorated for a wedding.  Cheekwood is one of Nashville’s most popular spots for a wedding and many brides choose this area for their outdoor reception.

The family were world travelers – newspaper clippings reveal they went to such faraway places as India.  One trip to England in 1929 lasted three months and was actually a buying trip for Cheekwood.  Bryant Fleming accompanied the family on this trip to supervise the purchases.

 There are invoices and receipts from that trip that survive today.  The family visited Chatsworth and it said the staircase there inspired the one at Cheekwood.   Another source says the staircase was inspired by Queen Charlotte’s palace at Kew.  Hmmm.  The fireplace in the foyer was said to be a Robert Adam but to me there are others in the house that look more like Adam.   The mahogany doors came from Grosvenor House in London.  The receipt above showed they did buy 4 bronze grilles from Grosvenor House, but no mention of doors.   It took seven railway cars to deliver all their London purchases to Cheekwood.

But it all came to an early end for Leslie Sr. who died suddenly in 1935, just a few years after moving into his dream home.  Mabel continued to live in the house, entertaining, gardening and spending much of her time in the library.

Mrs. Cheek passed away in 1945 at 72, leaving the estate to her children and grandchildren.  Her daughter then moved into Cheekwood with her husband and her daughter Leslie.

The family gifted Cheekwood to the public in 1957.  Funds were raised to create the botanical gardens and museum.  The former Nashville Museum of Art offered their permanent collection to Cheekwood and finally in 1960, Nashville’s new attraction opened its doors.

For the past two years and at a cost of many millions of dollars, the house has been renovated and for the first time in years the original mirror is now on display, again.  Before the renovation, the house was used as a museum and for office space.  The renovation will give visitors a look into how the Cheeks actually lived in the house.

Much of the information needed for the restoration was taken from this magazine, published in 1934.  I would LOVE to read this!!!

Alright – I found this on EBay and ordered it!!!  Yeah!!!  I wish it still cost just 50 cents.

Past the front gates, the house, on a rise, comes into view.

In all, the restoration included several of the rooms:   the drawing room, library, dining room, loggia, morning room, recreation room and bedroom suite – all on the first and ground floors.  One the second floor, the Museum will keep its galleries for exhibition space.  The restoration was just completed and the new rooms were revealed at this years Swan Ball.

At one point, the ivy was allowed to grow all over the limestone.  This looks awful!!

Today:  An aerial view shows the front of the house and to the right, the stables and carriage house.

A plan of each 3 floors, thanks to The Devoted Classicist who wrote a long, and wonderful story about Cheekwood HERE.

Because of the hilly property, the house is a fancy kind of split level!  The living room/library wing on the left side of the house is a 1/2 floor below the main floor.  Guests entry the foyer on the ground level and take stairs to the first floor where the decorated grand hallway is.  The loggia runs parallel to the hallway.  To the left is the drawing room which looks out to the side of the house where the Wisteria Arbor and Reflecting Pool are.  

Guests at the Swan Ball entering the ground floor front door.  You can see the drawing room wing at the left – which is a half-floor below the main level.  Notice how the drawing room windows are below the first floor windows.   Look at the beautiful limestone façade.   The gray is so on trend for today!

1934.  An early photo of the foyer with its grand stone and iron staircase that leads to the main floor.   A similar tapestry is on the wall today.  It’s a shame the original tapestry is no longer there.  There are two magnificent staircases in the house and they are really the focal points of the mansion.  They are so very elegant and beautiful.

Before the restoration, these two paintings hung in the stairway.

Not the original tapestry, but this one now hangs in the entry hall.

A view from the stairs to the foyer with the Robert Adam? fireplace, which is so gorgeous.  Whether it is an Adam or not, it is an antique mantel from England.

The Foyer.    Here you can see the fireplace more clearly.  Notice the clock above the mantel.  Isn’t it beautiful?

From a Christmas party – the view from the landing down to the foyer.  Flanking the double wood doors are twin gilded mirrors.  These double doors open onto the grand hallway.

1934.   The grand hall off the staircase which is through the double wood doors.  Past the hall are the second set of stairs that lead up to the second floor and the rotunda.  This space is gorgeous.

1958.  A close up of the murals.

A newer view of the grand hallway.  Here you can see the murals.  That looks like the same console that was here in the 50s.

A later view of the grand hallway – you can see the doors that open to the loggia.   The loggia runs parallel to the grand hallway.  It was once open to the elements but today, the loggia is closed in with French doors.   The molding is painted dark here which is more dramatic.   But today the wood is white again – after the restoration.  What a stunning hallway!  Notice the chandeliers.  Past the doorway is the second stairway and the rotunda.

Looking the opposite direction towards the drawing room, which is half a floor down.  Through the double wood doors are the stairs that lead down to the foyer.

Close up of the original chandeliers in the grand hallway.  It looks like there are Oriental figures on the top of the chandelier.

A close of the mural in the hallway.  Amazing!  It looks so real!

Today.  The grand hallway, after restoration.  New curtains.  Newly restored/covered chairs.  The molding is now painted white.

From the Swan Ball, the guests in the grand hallway.  Also, notice the curtains and cornice around the French doors.

Let’s go inside the loggia that runs alongside the grand hallway.

The loggia today.  Through the doors off the grand hallway is the loggia, here set for a garden party.  Notice the medallions embedded in the stucco walls.  And notice the lanterns. 

On this end of the loggia, the doors lead into the dining room.  Love the putti!

This view of the loggia, set for another garden party. 

Set up for a dinner party.  The doors lead into the dining room.  So pretty!

The  view of the loggia at the back of the house. 

For the Swan Ball, a large tent is set up on the lawn and guests enter it through the grand hallway and loggia. 

1934.  Back inside, at the end of the grand hallway – are the half set of stairs that led down to the vestibule before the drawing room and library.  More medallions embedded in the stucco.

1958.  In the drawing room with the double wood doors, the view shows the vestibule and the half stairs that lead up to the grand hallway.

  At a winter wedding, with the house decorated for Christmas, a bagpiper entertains the guests as he enters the drawing room vestibule.  The molding was painted black back then.

Today:  Looking towards the drawing room – the half stairs lead down to the vestibule.  Through the wood door at the right is a small anteroom that leads to the library.  Notice how pretty the surround around the drawing room’s door is. 

And, is that Mabel’s original too-tall mirror?  A wonderful photo of the vestibule.  Notice the medallion embedded in the wall – so pretty!  I love all the medallions that are placed throughout the first floor.

The drawing room – an early view, filled with all the English antiques purchased in London.  For the renovation, the curators tried to recreate this room as closely as possible.

These original photos of the interiors were the ones published in the Country Life Magazine in 1934.

1958.  Later, the room was partially cleared out, probably when Huldah’s family moved out the last time.   Huldah Cheek held her wedding reception in this drawing room.

The one thing I really don’t care for is the red curtains and of course, they reproduced these for the renovation!

Later, a new rug was placed down.  Display cases hold the large Ewers-Tyne collection of Worchester Porcelain.  What is so nice about the drawing room being half a floor below the rest of the house is that the ceiling is taller.

Still, a later view with the rug removed.

The drawing room set for a garden party.  This is the view facing towards the library and the grand hallway, on the right.   The French doors on the left side lead to the Wisteria Arbor and the stairs down to the Reflecting Pool.

 Today.   And the newly renovated drawing room, as near to the original décor as possible.

No longer a museum, it is meant to recreate how the Cheeks actually lived in the house.  Notice the mantel.

Notice the pretty ceiling and beautiful molding.

The paint colors were recreated as were the curtains, which do look exactly like the original ones. 

And guests admire the fireplace and the newly restored living room.   In the corner is the Steinway piano, a wedding gift from Mabel to her son Leslie Cheek, Jr.  It was signed by Theodore Steinway himself, who wished the couple well.     I would love to see this room decorated for today without having to recreate how it once was.  I would love to see it with whiter walls and neutral curtains, not red, and with a more neutral rug – it is such a beautiful room.

The main view from the room is through the large window at the end of the room and the other view out the side French door, that leads to the wisteria arbor and reflecting pond.

Here you can see the living room’s main window with its Juliet balcony. 

The large living room window from the outside, taken at a wedding.  Look how pretty the balcony is.

Another view of the front façade with the left wing where the living room is.  Its large window overlooks the front lawn.

These French doors lead out from the drawing room to the large wisteria arbor. 

The Wisteria Arbor overlooks the hills and is a favorite spot where brides pose for a portrait.  Below this is the reflecting pond.

At the side of the wisteria arbor, double stone steps winding around the fountain lead down to the reflecting pond.

Another view of the urn/fountain that shows the French door that leads into the drawing room.

The view of the wisteria arbor from below. 

The stairs that lead up from the reflecting pond to the arbor to the drawing room.  At summer the wisteria is so thick!!

In the winter the arbor is exposed.  I wonder why they didn’t use evergreen wisteria.  Maybe it doesn’t grow in Nashville?

The view from the drawing room, down to the wisteria arbor and to the reflecting pond and beyond.

The pond.  You can see the stone stairs that lead up to the wisteria arbor and the drawing room.

1934:  Across from the drawing room is the paneled library.  Here is an early view of the room filled with the Cheek’s English antiques.  Notice the clock above the mantel.  Also, the door to the left of the mantel leads to the vestibule and up to the grand hallway.

Later, the room was cleared out.  The house/museum’s silver collection was displayed in this library.

After the recent renovation, the library looks as it once did, filled with the books the family owned.  Also the furniture is similar to what was once there.  The same original chandelier hangs above.   The door to the right leads to the drawing room.

A closer view of the marble mantel.

Mabel was said to spend almost all her time while inside, in the library.

The vestibule leads to this anteroom that leads to the library.  Notice the antique porcelain portraits on display.

1958:  Going back down the grand hallway – at the end of it is the stairway to the second floor with its rotunda ceiling.  

An early view of the rotunda.  Through the arched door is one of the bedroom suites.

Along the wall of the staircase is an arch that opens up to the hall beyond.

Each year there are different artists who do installations for the Swan Ball.  Here it was the great Chihuly who was invited.  One of his light fixtures was installed in the second stair hall.  It is fabulous!!!!!   You can see the rotunda here.

The second stairhall – looking back toward the grand hallway and further, into the drawing room and the French Doors that lead out to the wisteria arbor!  To the right of the mirror and console, out of sight, are the doors that lead to the dining room.

And another art installation – chandelier.  Under this stair, you can barely see an arched door that leads to a bedroom suite.  More about that bedroom, later.

The contemporary light fixture – it looks like rain here!   It hangs down from the rotunda.

1934:  The dining room with dark walls.  The double wood doors open to the stairhall.  Through the doors by the fireplace is the morning room/breakfast room.

1958.  Light painted walls.  The museum’s large snuff collection is through the right door, in what was probably once a butler’s pantry.  The floors are black and white marble.

Another early view of the dining room.  Later, the ironwork on the console will be removed.

Before the restoration, the curtains were red and gold. 

                                                                                                                             Today:  The new dining room under the restoration.  Double doors with the gilded molding open to the dining room.

Furnished in blue to coordinate with the original mantel.  The chandelier appears original too, as does some of the furniture.

This restoration is really pretty.

From the Swan Ball.  The furniture was removed to make room for the jewelry cases to display Mish’s jewels.

The fireplace.

Close up. I wonder if this is lapis or blue marble?

The morning room is going to be restored.  It has marble floors, a bay window and it opens to a terrace.  This room is a stop on the Christmas tour.

The 1934 photo of the recreation room.  What an incredible room!  Look at the furniture.  It looks like a English house in the 18th century.  Most exciting is behind the stove and terracotta brick fireplace is the hidden staircase!   On the far left, notice the suzani fabric on the table!!  Wow!!

1934:  Mabel’s mother slept in this room – through the short door under the stairs.  The two room suite is separated by the black and white marble bathroom.   This room has been turned into an office, but it was restored back to the bedroom.

And here is the office that was once the two bedroom suite.  I wish we could see the fireplace at the left!

1934.  In this room is the original mirror that Mabel bought which was too tall for her house, causing her husband Leslie to build Cheekwood.  Today, the mirror is back at Cheekwood, in the drawing room vestibule, after the restoration.

1934:  The reading room on the second floor.  This amazing room is quite different from the Georgian style. 

This girl poses in the Reading Room, an atmospheric, small room on the second floor that will be restored.  With its dark wood beams and stucco mantel, the room is very Spanish in feel!  Wonder what happened to the medallion on the mantel?

Today.  The Reading Room cleared out. 

It’s a shame that there is no photograph of the master bedroom suites or bathrooms.

To see more of the Cheekwood, go HERE. 

The auction catalogue gives a hint of the decorative scheme for the 2017 Swan Ball designed by Mark Sikes and Sarah Bartholomew.

There were 475 floral arrangements created for the dining tables, along with numerous other arrangements created by The Tulip Tree.

Mark Sikes brought along his biggest fans!  Sarah is in white.  These dresses are all gorgeous!  I love the gingham and the red/pink combination which was custom designed by Mark.

The foyer is decorated for the ball.  Notice the skirted table in striped fabric with trim!!!  OMG!!!  To die for!!!  Those flowers!!!

Too pretty for words.

Gorgeous.  The foyer mantel is decorated with masses of flowers and trellis.

The skirted table with blue and white porcelain.

The guests go up the stairs.

Another view.

A beautiful arrangement in the niche at the top of the foyer stairs.

Guests spilled out onto the Wisteria Arbor off the Drawing Room.  More arrangements decorated the arbor which doubled as a bar.

This young couple posed in front of the second staircase decorated with the trellis motif and flowers in a blue and white bowl.

Appetizers and drinks are served in the grand hallway while guests visit the jewelry display in the dining room.

Off the main hall the guests enter the loggia.   The bar/dinner tent is set up on the lawn right past the loggia.

The loggia decorated by Mark and Sarah.  A skirted table in Mark’s signature blue and white fabric.  A grass wall divides part of the loggia off from the guests.  Topiary balls on the skirted table.  Just beautiful!

Close up of the bench and skirted table.

And another view of the loggia.

Past the loggia the doors open to the tent with the gazebo designed by Mark and Sarah.  This is the area where drinks were served.  Beyond is the dining tent.  Notice how they tented the tent (lol!) with Mark’s signature blue and white fabric – and really Sarah’s too!   The gazebo is covered in wisteria – a nod to the famous Wisteria Arbor outside the Cheekwood drawing room!

The view from the tent looking back towards the loggia.

The party is in full swing.  I wonder how many yards of fabric Mark used?  AND I wonder if they are reusing the fabric???

A view from the loggia into the bar tent and further back to the dining tent.

Hand painted wallpaper was used to decorate the back of the bar area.

At the bar – with another handpainted mural.

Curtains! 

The dining tent is a mix of round and rectangular tables.  Chintz fabric skirted the round tables!!!  Round drum chandeliers decorated with greenery.

Another view of the rectangular dining tables skirted in the striped fabric.

Notice how pretty the calligraphy table numbers are.  Rattan votives.  Linen napkins.  Silver mint julep cups.   Very very nice!!!

A mix of flowers at each table.  Just beautiful!!!

A round table, piled with flowers.

A view to the stage at the rear of the tent. 

The stage has a blue and white! checkerboard dance floor – and notice the backdrop:  a huge handpainted chinoiserie mural.  Of course!!  This is Mark after all!

Beside this band, Sheryl Crow entertained.

Dinner. 

Sarah and Mark with this year’s honoree Carolina Herrera.  Her dress!!!

As guests leave – notice the turquoise blue boxes holding topiary!

The décor?

Genius.   Mark and Sarah outdid themselves!!!

Be sure to visit Sarah and Mark’s blogs for more photos.  Mark has already moved on from the ball.  He is now busy decorating the Newport Coastal Living house all in the blue and white and it is, of course, to die for!

A bit of news:

My favorite local decorative store Olivine is having a Summer Sale!!

Helen just got in these darling Mexican dresses for little girls.  So on trend.  Direct from San Miguel de Allende!!!

She has the entire Kai line – which I love!!!

Glasses, kitchen ware, and Turkish towels.

Those white dresses are the cutest!

Summer scarves – tassel wraps!!

Custom made jewelry.

Les Indiennes.  My fave!!

Le Cadeaux Melamine.

Alixx candles from a French family in Miami!  Fabulous scents.

OK.  I LOVE this scarf!!!

Summer Sale – 20% off STOREWIDE (except Jewelry and Mexican dresses!)

PomPom Bedding – 30 percent off!

THROUGH JUNE 17TH!!!!

Don’t live in Houston?  Call Helen!!!!

713-622-7776

2405 Rice Boulevard, Houston, TX 77005

from COTE DE TEXAS http://cotedetexas.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-most-beautiful-ball.html