Cozy Mystery
When the noise of the last few years became overwhelming, and it was difficult to find peace and solace, I turned to my Audible account, and fell headlong into love with the genre of “British Cozy Mysteries”.
From solving mysteries of death by knitting needle, to poisoning from Hemlock or Wolfsbane – to dying of fright when seeing a witch in the forest, to solving a dastardly crime over hot, sweet tea, I’m smitten. I listen to them all the time, and have made good friends with many of the characters and even with a few of the authors.
It’s like my love affair with the Great British Baking Show. How is it that I find such profound comfort watching the bakers in “The Tent” strive for perfection, and graciously fail, all the while being kind and supporting of their competitors. Is the gentility of the British fact or fiction? Or is it like claiming all Americans are something or other. As I’m settling into my New Jersey home, my new personality and my future self, my stories are a constant reassurance that all is right in the world – even if it is just fiction.
Would it be fun to live in a cottage in a village in the Cotswolds? To face every crisis with a hot cuppa sweet tea? To enjoy a rasher of bacon? To sit in front of the fireplace in my rocking chair with a blanket that I wove myself on my lap? Is it a fantasy of many people to live in a peaceful village where everyone knows everything about everyone? I don’t know – but it may be one of mine. Maybe. But maybe I would miss such things as hot and cold running water, and indoor plumbing. Maybe I wouldn’t appreciate mice and other critters nesting in the thatch of my roof, but maybe I would. Isn’t that the best? I’ll try it and find out and keep you posted.
I did live in a little community in the United States for several years – Lander, Wyoming. But it had zero village charm. Maybe negative on the village charm scale. It was more of an outpost. Or a truck stop. Or a survival experiment. A windy, winter escape room. The best thing that happened there is I emerged with 3 amazing babies, who have turned into 3 incredible adults. And that we all got out in time.
So far, I’ve debunked the desire to live in small-town USA, and a lighthouse. Now village in the Cotswolds will be next – house boats, pyramids, castles, palaces, yurts, treehouses and yachts still remain on the list – and a whole bunch more. Stay tuned.
In baby news, Arthur grew a lot this week. He’s back in perfect health. He’s sitting independently, and his method of getting to the crawling position is to be sitting, bend completely at the waist so he is like a sandwich, then he wriggles his legs out, in the most impossible directions, to get ready to crawl. Then he rocks back and forth on all fours, creeping a bit – he is moments away from mobility.
His laugh is absolutely addictive. He laughs when he sees me, when we play, when he eats. Yesterday, apparently he tried bread for the first time. Today, when I was eating my salad, he looked at me with such doleful eyes, I almost caved in and gave him a tomato – but I’m not in charge of his eating plan and won’t mess it up. They’re doing such a great job. But oh – the big, blue eyes watching me eat. I actually had to stop until I had him distracted with someone else. He’s so adorable.
And now – sitting in my glass apartment home looking out at the storm over the Hudson, I am perfectly content. It is fun to imagine exotic and fun and strange places to live, but for now – I’m exactly where I want to be.
