Category Archives: Hearth & Home

Getting Personal & Key West Dreaming

On the Homefront

Hi my friends,

I admit, I’ve been living a bit of a roller coaster these past two weeks. Not that anything is really wrong or desperate, like illness or death, but emotionally I’ve struggled. In times like this, music and writing nourish my soul and make me whole again. I write romance, and to write romance, a person needs to truly believe in a happily-ever-after. My relationship with my husband is a huge inspiration in this way. Lately, I haven’t always appreciated him or the sacrifices he makes on a daily basis for our family. He works long hours far from home, and yet I still expect him to pull his weight (and more) at home. He always has, but that doesn’t mean he always will. I wonder if someday he’ll say, “Enough.”

I thought a lot about that this week. I considered many ways to show him how much I love him. I thought about sending him love texts (no, not sexts, that’s not my style, and with my luck, I’d accidentally sext the sitter or one of my colleagues). I’ve never done that, so I didn’t want him to be suspicious. I considered writing a love note. I also thought about surprising him with his favorite meal–but I’m not such a great cook.

None of those ideas seemed right.

Then I was on my way to work a few days ago, and I accidently hit CD instead of FM radio. I only have one CD in my car, and it’s David Archuleta. (Yes, I adore the beautiful purity of his voice.) His song, “You Can” played, my love anthem. Not because of him (Sorry, David!), but because the lyrics bring me back to 1984 when my husband was my best friend on the verge of becoming my boyfriend, when I first realized he could be the one to “save me from myself.” I wasn’t a lost soul by any means, but I lacked belief in myself, and I didn’t grasp my true potential until he came into my life.

So this is for my husband, the one who always believed in me and helped me believe in myself:

What song reminds you of a special person in your life?

Key West Dreaming…

For my fellow Key West lovers, here are some recent photos I took just for you:

Ocean Key Resort Sunset Pier Restaurant
Mr. Rooster on Duval
Pier at Westin Casa Marina, Key West
Duval Street — After the Storm

Until next time, I hope you spend your days doing what you love best.

xoxo

Jolyse

PS  Any Key West topics you’d like me to blog about? Let me know. I love to chat Conch Republic.


Where Are You From?

A few days ago, I came across a beautifully written article by blogger extraordinaire, Jenny Hansen, and I had to give it a try myself. Turns out, she discovered this nostalgic writing exercise after reading “Where I’m From” by Sharla Lovelace, which includes a template. Apparently, that template has been bouncing around the internet for a decade or more. Perhaps it’s so popular because you don’t have to be a professional writer to try it, not even close. The next time you’re trying to figure out what to give a parent (or your child) who already has everything, or doesn’t need another whatchamacallit, perhaps consider writing your story and gifting it to them. Just a thought.

With that said, here’s a little bit of me.

Where I’m From

I’m from wollastonite, Big Wheels, Tinker Toys, and a backyard sandbox. From a sunny kitchen where my mom lined up Velveeta and mustard sandwiches and Kool-Aid for us kids to grab before running outside to play some more.

I’m from a white clapboard house perched at the edge of a hay field, a second-story Holly Hobbie-themed bedroom with white, flowing curtains, and a paneled den large enough for a family of seven. From a kitchen with daily homemade meals, a fridge with a pitcher of unsweetened iced tea, and the occasional rhubarb pie.

I am from evergreens, Lady Slippers, pussy willows, and hummingbirds, oak trees, pink clover, and dairy cows. From a mining town with a K-12 central school and graduating class of forty, one grocery store, one blinking light, and a river that we’d skate come winter.

I’m from Sunday summer picnics with grandma’s potato salad and grandpa’s sons–large, tobacco-chewing men grilling hot dogs and burgers. From a backyard where we played horseshoes, croquet, and H-O-R-S-E until it was too dark to do more than roast marshmellows around a cinder block fireplace.

Adirondack Evergreens

I’m from a no-nonsense, hardworking father and graceful, classy mother and too many aunts, uncles, and cousins to count. I am from the frugal and independent, the pinocle players, the shift workers, and the practical jokers. From “If you make a mess, clean it up” and “You can be anything you want to be if you work hard enough.”

I’m from a Catholic home, from where we love others as God has loved us, turn the other cheek, and believe the meek shall inherit the earth.

I’m from where the Adirondack foothills meet the crystal blue waters of Lake Champlain, a home with veggies grown in the backyard and canned in the kitchen, laundry drying in the breeze, and Sunday breakfasts of fried eggs and bacon.

I am from shelves of photo albums next to the stairs, to be pulled out and pored over whenever we visit my childhood home. From boxes of art and school work in the attic, to skis and boots in the cellar. Never touched, but there just the same.

A Few More Thoughts

This exercise stirs up a myriad of memories as you write. I’ve worked on this piece for a few days, but I continue to remember more–and I want to include it all. Next weekend my family will travel upstate to my childhood home, and I imagine that will inspire me further. Writing, like life, is very often a work in progress.

My mind is on my mother this week, even more than usual. She would have been seventy-five this year. I love and miss you, Mom, but here’s a little gift to you, to let you know I meant it when I said I’d love you for always.

And to my readers, here’s your gift. My husband made up this little summer concoction early in the season and I adore it. As Nicole Basaraba  pointed out to me recently, every cocktail needs a good name. Let me know if you like it! Here it is…

Pink Flamingo Cocktail

Fill a 15 oz. cocktail glass with ice, pour in a shot-and-a-half of your favorite Scotch (I prefer single malt), add pink lemonade, stir, and top with a lemon. Enjoy!

Where are you from? Did this exercise stir any memories for you? What summer drink did you savor?


Happy Independence Day

In America, we celebrate our many freedoms on Independence Day, the Fourth of July. Writers are especially grateful for the freedom of speech. Here are a few of my favorite quotes (courtesy of quotegarden.com) about the significance of this holiday:

You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness.  You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.  ~Erma Bombeck

For what avail the plough or sail, or land or life, if freedom fail?  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Liberty is the breath of life to nations.  ~George Bernard Shaw

Do you notice the older we get, the more sentimental we can become? Perhaps I showed my age last year with this nostalgic Fourth of July post about my childhood in the Adirondacks.

On the music front, Billy Ray Cyrus may be better known as the Achy Breaky Heart singer, but he also performs this beautiful tribute to American soldiers–past and present.

 

Still here? I’ve gotta go. Time to make the margaritas and set up the appetizers. Enjoy your picnic, swim, and fireworks!

What stirs your patriotism?


Dancing in Your Flip Flops

Welcome! Kick off your shoes and slip into a comfy pair of flip flops.

Surprise!

Back in late April, the weather here on Long Island was unseasonably warm. On one of those beautiful afternoons, my husband and I hit the jackpot–home without the kids.

Our pool wasn’t open yet, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the loungers out of the backyard shed while I poured wine and plated chips and salsa. All that was missing was a palm tree swaying in the breeze.

And some laidback, tropical tunes.

That got me to thinking. Margarita Moments aficionados need a playlist. Here’s the compilation to date (Titles to be added with reader suggestions!):

  1. Margaritaville – Jimmy Buffett
  2. Key West Address – James T. Slater
  3. Toes – Zac Brown Band
  4. Living on Key West Time – Howard Livingston & Mile Marker 24
  5. No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problems – Kenny Chesney
  6. Pour Me a Vacation – Pete Harris
  7. Hot Sand, Pina Coladas, and Caribbean Beer – Seth Turner
  8. Changes in Latitude – Jimmy Buffett
  9. I Don’t Have to Be Me Until Monday – Steve Azur
  10. Here in the Conch Republic – Howard Livingston & Mile Marker 24
  11. Key West Intermezzo (I Saw You First) – John Mellencamp
  12. Looe Key Tiki Bar – Howard Livingston & Mile Marker 24
  13. When the Sun Goes Down – Kenny Chesney
  14. Two Pina Coladas – Garth Brooks
  15. Blame it on the Margaritas – Howard Livingston & Mile Marker 24
  16. Meet Me in the Keys – Howard Livingston & Mile Marker 24
  17. I’m Living on an Island – Howard Livingston & Mile Marker 24
  18. Red Wine – UB40
  19. All Summer Long – Kid Rock
  20. Baby I Love Your Way – Big Mountain

Have you ever heard of #2? If this song’s lighthearted lyrics and video  doesn’t get those flip flops dancing, I don’t know what will. Enjoy!

I love this YouTube slideshow of one of my favorite tunes.

Do you have any songs to add to our playlist? Where do you buy your comfy flip flops?

Blogging this past month was really fun! Thanks for helping celebrate Jolyse Barnett’s Margarita Moments & Other Escapes first blogiversary. All May commenters’ names were placed in a hat (one slip per comment) and my obliging daughter randomly picked out the winner. Congratulations to Catie Rhodes!!! Email me at jolysebarnett@gmail.com with your address and your handpainted, crystal Lolita Margarita glass will soon be on its way. I look forward to future giveaways that include a copy of my latest release. It’s only a matter of hard work, luck, and timing, right? 🙂


In Remembrance

May 31st is Jolyse Barnett’s Margarita Moments blogiversary. In appreciation of YOU, my readers, I’m giving away prizes to random commenters** each week this month. (To learn if you won for commenting last week, scroll to the bottom of this post.) So, if you haven’t yet left a comment, now’s the time to dip your toes into the blog waters. Your email isn’t made public and you can use a nickname for privacy. Winners from today’s post will be announced Thursday, May 31st. Check back then for an extra-special Margarita Moment and final blogiversary giveaway. Enjoy, and good luck!

Simple and Delicious

This weekend has been a respite from the daily grind, relaxing by the pool with friends and family. Aside from an elusive sun, the weather’s been agreeable. Our big hit on the grill so far was the delectable bacon-wrapped scallops my sister brought to the party. I can’t wait to compare them to the shrimp recipe we’re trying out today!

All Gave Some, Some Gave All.

As much as we enjoy our Memorial Day weekend barbeques and pool parties, the meaning behind this holiday is bittersweet. Our hearts and minds remember those who have fought and died for us to have the many freedoms we savor as Americans.

Raised in a rural community during the seventies, I heard about the boys in our town, barely eighteen, drafted into service. A number of those young men never returned, their names etched into the war memorial in the center of our small town and celebrated three times a year. Those who did come home often had lasting scars, the worst of which were invisible. As a Girl Scout, I honored our veterans by placing a flag next to their graves each May and November. Little did I know we’d adopted a tradition begun by southern women after the Civil War to remember their dead.

The Cold War taught us to always be wary, and it was with great relief and optimism in 1981 when the Berlin Wall tumbled down. We no longer had to fear nuclear war with the Soviet Union. College years for me were the Big 80’s. Not only was our hair big, but our dreams too. Generation X expected the world. Like the song said, the future was so bright we had to wear sunglasses.

I was pregnant with our first child in 1990 when our country came to the brink of war again, with a “line drawn in the sand” between our president and Saddam Hussein in Iraq. I feared bringing a baby into a world of unease and heartache, and again was thankful when the brave men and women of our armed services brought the conflict to a speedy end.

Years of peace lulled many of us Americans into a false sense of security. That all changed one fateful September morning.

Never forget.

9-11 hit very close to home. We knew people who died on those planes, people who died in the towers, people who missed death by inches or seconds or last-minute change of plans. My home of Long Island fell silent. There was no air traffic and the Long Island Expressway was shut down.

I scurried out of my work building that day, anxious to be safely home with my loved ones, when a deafening roar stopped me in my tracks. Fearing the worst, I squinted into the midday sun to see silver fighter jets screaming overhead. I spied the red, white, and blue emblazoned on each, and I breathed again. I’d grown up hearing the occasional thunder of jets from the local Air Force base. They’d frightened me, but my father always reassured me they were there to protect us. Now I understood.

Have a safe, relaxing holiday with your loved ones. Celebrate on behalf of those who can’t because they’re too busy keeping us safe. I leave you with this song by Five for Fighting, one I think is perfect for Memorial Day:

What does Memorial Day mean to you?

And now for blogiversary news…Last week’s Margarita Moments prize winner is LynneRose!!!! Thanks for participating and congratulations! Email me at jolysebarnett@gmail.com with your address. An insulated personal cooler tote bag and $20 Amazon card will soon be on their way.

This week’s prize is a $25 Amazon card and a pair of Margarita glasses. Be sure to comment if you want to be entered into this drawing. 🙂

**Commenters must provide a continental USA address if selected as prize winner. I apologize to my out-of-country readers. I love you too, and will have to figure out a cost-effective way to include you in future giveaways. Thanks for reading!


Scrap Your Memories & Blogiversary Giveaways

A sampling of my scrapbook collection

Long before I began writing seriously, I kept journals–reams of pages filled with daily entries, jots, sketches, and reflections. Then, I began scrapbooking in the mid nineties to record my family life and move my photos from boxes to books. This hobby gave my creativity an outlet my day job previously had but no longer did.

 

I love this book! Great ideas for the novice scrapper.

As with most things in life, there were negatives to my new obsession. Every material and specialty tool cost money, which added up. Between the price of the photos, books, filler pages, and specialty materials such as stickers, pens, scissors and other tools–not to mention my labor–one project could easily top fifty bucks.

Homemade Scrapbook Page

Then, there was the mess. I didn’t have a designated space for my hobby and ended up filling my closet and kitchen cabinets with the supplies.

Scrapping is painstaking, yet rewarding.

 

Durability was my greatest concern. Others were eager to look at the photo albums, but I was forever worrying about torn and soiled pages. That bothered me, because the reason I’d started scrapping was to make our family photos accessible. These albums help develop my son’s language and social connections, too, areas of concern for a child with autism.

Disney books are magical to create.

The solution to my dilemma was the advent of digital scrapbooks. Not only is this form of scrapbooking quicker and more professional-looking than my best handmade efforts, but all the work is online instead of all over my house. It’s also easy to make duplicate books. The price of both kinds of scrapbooks is comparable, unless you splurge by creating an album like the Disney one I made two years ago.

My photo albums are more like picture books.

Photo sites such as Shutterfly and Snapfish are user-friendly and provide many options to create the book you imagine. They take up a fraction of the space at 1/2″ thick whereas the handmade scrapbooks are 2″-3″ thick. You can share digital albums online, so there’s no need to purchase every album you create.

With each successive album, I used fewer photos and more journaling until the photos supported the text rather than the other way around. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised I took that next step in creativity–painting pictures with words as a novelist. 

What’s your creative outlet? Do you scrapbook, journal, or research geneology online?

 


A Love Story

Wedding Day

Twenty-four years ago today, I married my true love and best friend. But our love story began long before April 9, 1988.

At fifteen, I was tall, lanky, studious, and shy compared to most girls my age, yet eager to fit in despite lacking social graces. I survived adolescent crushes and ventured into dating. None of those boys, however, made me swoon like the heroes in my favorite novels. Night after night, I’d gaze into the starry darkness from my bedroom window, dreaming of the perfect romance.

The Michael Buble song, I Just Haven’t Met You Yet, reminds me of that yearning optimism I had as a teen.

I met my future husband autumn of ’83. He was a very confident, handsome guy with a great sense of humor, a potent combination as far as I was concerned. We hung in the same circles and kept bumping into each other, although I focused on my studies and dating guys I felt were more in my league. My future husband and I had a playful, friendly relationship, but it didn’t go any further than that.

Until months later, he stole a kiss. I began to suspect he was the one, but I didn’t want to believe it. At that point I had a love interest back home and figured he did too.

Sophomore year of college, he’d walk me home Saturday nights whenever my roommate wasn’t available. I began to share my accomplishments and sorrows with him. He offered emotional support after my breakup with a boy back home. We talked about our childhoods, our aspirations, our religious beliefs, just about everything. We’d become best friends.

Then he ruined everything by asking me out on a date. I had to refuse. What if things didn’t work out? Luckily for our love story, he wasn’t easily dissuaded. He brought me flowers. He asked me to a movie. He courted me.

And we lived happily ever after.

Well, not so fast. Our road to marriage was a bumpy one at times, both of us having grown into strong-minded, focused young adults, intent on making our way in the world while trying to figure out how to fit our lives together.  The 2005 movie A Lot Like Love, starring Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet, reminds me a bit of our real-life romance:

As we’ve wound our ways through the years,

we’ve lived our marriage vows,

loving each other

for better for worse,

in good times and in bad,

through sickness and health.

Twenty seven years after our first date, we’re still best friends, and we’re still crazy in love with each other. Happy anniversary, sweetheart.

That’s our love story. What’s yours? 


Can You Go Home Again?

Expressways and bridges lead to the Northway, followed by narrow winding roads. A lone blinking street light in the country hamlet just south of our destination signals memories of my grandparents, town Fourth of July celebrations, and trick-or-treating.

Fields Leading to Lake Champlain

Every mile between town and my home is as comfortable as a favorite pair of slippers–having walked and biked that path countless times. I take in the Lake Champlain waters, stone walls lining open fields, and my family’s church.

Home again.

Mom’s Plants

I step into the house where my parents raised five children, where they lived, loved, and laughed together until she was taken from us far too soon. Although it’s been over a decade since she’s graced this house in human form, it’s filled with her spirit. Every room in the house reminds me of her, and I’m enveloped in warmth. I miss her so much, but when I’m in this house, it’s almost as if she never left.

Hide and Seek, anyone?

Of course, my childhood home holds a myriad of other memories. My little brother and I used to play inside the living room closet and Mom would warn us about pinched fingers. We’d peek around the stairway corner to spy on adults on Christmas Eve. And how I loved to sit on those stairs, my skinny legs over the edge as I read book after book.

An unlikely reading spot

I’m glad we traveled north this weekend. Sometimes I need to go back in order to move forward again. I love my Long Island home, with its ocean waters, vineyards, and NYC all within a short distance, but I will forever have a soft spot for the Adirondack Mountains, with its evergreens, birch trees, and rugged hillsides. Like my wise brother-in-law has been known to say, “You can take the girl out of the country, but not the country out of the girl.”