(Initial paragraphs of each post are quoted from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.)
Blueberries & Cream Recipe
I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream.
After a day of seeing Ted on Instagram stories with whomever he shacked up with in quarantine, I felt it was time for a digital detox and went back to my windowsill farming roots. My estranged husband may have the (younger) company, but I have the self-respect to not post selfies every few hours with a self-congratulatory stay at home sticker like I’m saving lives instead of stoned and sprawled out in Crown Heights.
Anyway, one must not dwell on the past, even if it’s all my mind can attend to in our constant, increasingly digital present. This simple yet luxurious snack of blueberries and cream always cheers me up, and not having to turn on the oven is always a plus in my book. And, it pairs well with a stiff glass of whiskey and Fiona Apple elegantly raging through my Sonos. (Check out the review post here!) I’ll fetch the bolt cutters, alright.
Blueberries and Cream Recipe
· 1 cup heavy cream
· 1 cup Greek or whole-milk yogurt
· ⅓ cup soft brown sugar, or as needed
· 2 cups blueberries
Day before serving
Combine the cream and yogurt in a mixing bowl and whisk until thick but not stiff, not unlike Ted after a few drinks. Scrape into a shallow serving bowl.
Sprinkle with enough brown sugar to cover the yogurt mixture. Cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours, lamenting the passage of time.
Day of
Remove yogurt mixture from the refrigerator and allow it to come to room temperature. Serve yogurt and berries in separate bowls, heaping the fruits of your labors with its just desserts. Keep the whiskey flowing.
My Shelfie Tour and Skin Care Routine!
Upstairs, in the bright, white, sterile cubicle of the bathroom, smelling of warm flesh and toothpaste, I bent over the washbowl in unthinking ritual…Hot and cold, cleanliness coming in smooth scented green bars; hairs in thin, penciled lines, curving on the white enamel; the colored prescriptions, the hard glassed-in jars, the bottles that can cure the symptoms of a cold or send you to sleep within the hour.
My shelfie is a reflection of who I am — thoughts, habits, dreams, and desires.
As the days and weeks pass, skincare routines remain one of the few welcome constants. I do not know what fresh horrors will announce themselves each day, but the very fires of hell will freeze over before I miss moisturizing. Am I vain? Yes, undoubtedly so. But at least I’m not literally recapturing my youth at NYU bars.
To help others attain my unblemished glow, I’ve detailed my morning and nighttime skincare routines.
Morning
Cleanse. Wash the nightmares and perils of dreaming away.
Exfoliate. Open up your pores to a new day with all its trials and joys.
Moisturize with SPF. Like most ironic sources of life, the sun will try to drain you of your vitality.
Evening
Double cleanse. Always remove your makeup first, then follow with a cleansing wash as if a virgin anew.
Exfoliate again. Mortality is not so frail that you can’t exfoliate twice a day.
Apply overnight moisturizer with retinol to deter the vicelike grip of age. It will still hold you in its clutches, but overpriced delusions are the best we can get.
My Color Coordinated Bookshelf!
Here I sit in the deep-cushioned armchair, the crickets rasping, buzzing, chirring outside. It’s the library, my favorite room, with the floor a medieval mosaic of flat square stones. The color of old bookbindings . . . . . rust, copper, tawny-orange, pepper-brown, maroon.
The joys of a color-coordinated library aren’t lost in utter solitude. It’s a vibrantly unnecessary puzzle that doesn’t commit itself to logic or reason, just aesthetics. Sure, it’s harder to find what I specifically want to read, but it forces me to glaze over previous books like past lives, asshole boyfriends, and shitty husbands.
With that said, here are some of my quarantine picks:
Gone Girlby Gillian Flynn
Justice at its finest.
The Girl on the Trainby Paula Hawkins
She’s a damn hero, that one.
Carrieby Stephen King
Good for her.
The Perfect Wife by JP Delaney
He knows what he did.