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Welcome to the
Cozy Cottage Chronicles!

If I knew you were comin' I'd've baked a cake, hired a band, goodness sake! If I knew you were comin' I'd've baked a cake Howdya do, howdya do, howdya do?

"If I Knew You Were Coming I'd've Baked a Cake," Eileen Barton

My right foot is in a boot this week. Turns out, when I tripped and fell while taking a photo of the high school marching band, I fractured my fifth metatarsal. I say that as if I knew what that even was a few weeks ago. It basically means that I broke the bone that lines up with the little piggy that goes ‘wee wee wee’ all the way home.


The boot is big and bulky, and has many complicated velcro straps that make abrasive ripping noises when I adjust them. I have to take it off when I drive. Making short trips is a lesson in patience: Get in the car to head to the grocery store: boot off, right shoe goes on. Park the car: boot goes back on again. Hobble through the aisles. Take boot off; drive home, then put the boot immediately back on again. But even with all that fuss, I actually like the boot. It makes my foot feel like it is being cradled like a baby. It’s held in place, in a warm, protective hug. Things could be worse.
 

Still, my Gentleman Friend knew I felt grumpy. When you’ve been married as long as we have, sometimes words aren’t really necessary. I’m tired and in pain, and feeling anxious. My gentleman friend is intuitive. He just knows.

 

He disappeared for about an hour in the afternoon. He came back with our groceries for the week: all the necessities we usually get from our favorite store, Aldi. He brought them packed in leftover boxes he salvaged from the store shelves. Each one was packed Tetris-like, the way I’ve seen him do a hundred times before: Build up the sides with cereal boxes, heavy items on the bottom, produce and crushable items on the top. Most likely he traded small-talk with Virginia, one of the cashiers at the Aldi register, who he’s befriended because he talks to virtually everybody and learns their name.

 

I had been dreading the whole boot on-boot off-hobble-hobble routine for our grocery run, and here he had already done it. I looked at the overflowing boxes and nearly wept with relief. He’s my boot. He makes me feel supported. Cradled in a warm hug.
 

As we put the groceries away, my Gentleman Friend nudged me, and nodded his head coyly in the direction of the kitchen counter, where he had conspicuously placed a brick of cream cheese beside some strawberries.
 

Again, no words needed. I recognized these as the main ingredients of a dessert he likes, a strawberry cobbler.
 

Sometimes, no words are needed in order to say ‘I love you.’ The words are as good as yelled from a mountaintop when a partner or friend does something as banal as a trip to the grocery store.
 

Also, ‘I love you’ can be baked into a strawberry cobbler, warm from the oven. No words needed.


I’ll see you again in your inbox in 2 weeks: Oct. 2.


xoxo,


Carol

What I'm reading: 
More Than You'll Ever Know by Katie Gutierrez

Families, secrets, and murder … a perfect read for this true-crime podcast lover.
Visit my website
Thank you for subscribing to my newsletter, "The Cozy Cottage Chronicles." I hope that over time I can send you love letters that reflect the incredible journey our family has experienced by downsizing to a much smaller house, the Cozy Cottage. Every day, I'm still looking to simplify our lives, reduce stress, eliminate debt, and leave space in our lives to enjoy the little things. I'd love to hear from you! Just hit "reply" and send me a note!

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