La Jolla, California Cottage

In all the years I have lived in California, I had never made my way down to San Diego. When a work opportunity popped up there last fall, my initial reaction was to disregard it. I hadn’t had any desire to go to San Diego let alone move there.

The company was persuasive and offered me a trip to come down and visit. After meeting with them for a full day, I drove at sunset along the coast, through La Jolla and snapped this:

La Jolla, California. Image by Alex Beauchamp at HyggeHouse.com

Two weeks later, I moved.

Initially, I thought finding a home would be hard. My cottage in Santa Barbara was so peaceful, so lovely, and so, well, me, that I thought with all the vacation-rental, 80′s condo’s filled with blue carpet that seemed to be everywhere in San Diego, I wouldn’t be able to find the right place.

But I did.

A 1928 cottage by the sea, aptly called, “Dream Cottage.” It’s one block from the beach, with two large and private yards, a fireplace and white, white walls. The cottage had been in the same family for over 40 years and you felt that vibe inside. I bought my first grown-up table here (the West Elm Emerson table I had coveted for years!) and had lots of morning coffee (a new thing for me), had my mum visit with me and one of my sweetest friends and her husband stay for a few days. There were lots of long conversations on the couch, nights spent in the backyard watching stars and many, many trips down to the cove.

In two weeks, I’ll be leaving my cottage as work takes me back to my adopted hometown, Santa Monica. I’ll be going between there and Santa Barbara all summer long for work, friends, and play. It’s going to be a great one.

But before I leave, I wanted to share a few captures of the cottage:

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The Getaway(s)

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Part I

Sometimes one just needs to run away. From normalacy, media, cell phone bars, people, routine and all the parts about being a grown-up that make you wish you weren’t one.

Needing such a trip, the truck was packed with camping gear and the map pulled out with X marked on Joshua Tree National Park. Camping spots were waiting – all of them. There was no one else in sight. The only noise was a few rock climbers during the day and at night the wind through the trees. Perfect for a wannabe Amish girl stuck in a digital world.

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Part II
The first time I went to Palm Springs I stayed at the Parker Palm. The Saturday night stay made me feel really unhip but by Sunday afternoon when the LA crowds had left, I found my own quiet, groove in the resort-like atmosphere and had the best nap ever in one of the hammocks. After the most hectic six months, it was clearly time to go back and repeat.

So much time was spent in the salt-water pool that seemed to belong just to me (there was almost no one else there). My room had a patio with a private hammock, and I swayed back and forth watching hummingbirds float by and palms also sway in the wind. My new favourite drink was discovered (champagne + Limoncello soaked sugar cubes) and bikes were ridden to the Ace just for Stumptown coffee.

It was the perfect compliment to camping (although the camp dinners were far, far superior. Honestly disappointed in Norma’s dinner) and I admit that air conditioning and showers were a welcomed thing.

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But whether in a tent or a villa, I felt a million miles away from whatever it is I needed distance from. I thought of some new ventures, I relaxed a little, I even slept more than four hours in a row. And that is what really makes the perfect getaway(s).

Sunday Rest

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When I had my own company, I took Thursdays off religiously; it’s unexplainably my favourite day of the week. So working on a Sunday was never really an issue; first because I loved what I did and it was part of my lifestyle but also because I always had a true day off with Thursday.

But as I began to work more and more with larger brands and companies, the mid-week day off eventually stopped and I was supposed to replace it with rest on Sunday. I say that very tongue in cheek because my brain wouldn’t stop working or the work from the week would be so much that it’d carry over. Eventually I ended up working with a company where I was in 42hours of meetings each week, work was done at night and my boss actually requested I work Sunday mornings. Sadly, for a short while, I got into that habit.

When I realized the mental and physical cost to that, I added ‘take Sunday’s off for a year’ to my bucket list. I made valiant attempts – up to eight months at one point – but then I slipped off the wagon when I moved last November to a new place, out of my habits, Sunday night suppers, beach days and new work schedule. And Sunday’s have been anything but restful.

This Sunday is my birthday and I knew I wanted to do something that was on my bucket list. The scariest thing! #75, try the trapeze! And so, this Sunday, I’ll be flying through the air, hoping my fear of heights doesn’t stop me from trying something new. But most of all, I realized, I was hoping that I would have the full day off. From my brain, from work, from email and texts.

Perhaps I’m especially sensitive right now because I’ve been working around the clock until the flu took me out. Going on day 4, like most people who have been sick in bed, I have ants in my pants to get out. Get back to work. Get productive. The doctor keeps telling me to rest, rest, and rest. And I can’t. I literally cannot rest. And friends, insomnia and not resting is not cute at this age. Trust me on this one.

Thinking of this it dawned on me that this Sunday, I can cross one thing off my bucket list with a commitment to cross off a second. It’s time and it’s needed.

So here’s my goal: not open email. period. not friend, not work (opening the first makes it too easy to do it with the second). No working on work files or presentations unless it really does just feel like rest/play (and sometimes it does. I get to do really cool things!). Limit the computer or at least surfing (I don’t have a TV so I consume movies, which I love, on my computer. So 100% no go isn’t realistic). This is not a hard when I’m out and about as I often am but when I’m home at night, sometimes it’s easier to surf than read. A bad habit I need to break because it’ll connect me to someone who works in the field I do which makes me think of something I need to do or email and…!

It’s not super strict, there are no penalties or points instead I’ll try to remind myself when I wake up to ‘take today off’ and go from there. If you’re in need of a Sunday off from whatever you need off from, maybe tag your tweets, instagrams or pins #SundayRest and let others (like me!) know what you’re doing. Maybe we can start encouraging each other to do this – or at least feel ok when we do.

Merry, little.

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Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Make the Yule-tide gay.
From now on our troubles
Will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,
Happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Will be near to us once more.

Someday soon we all will be together
If the Fates allow.
Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

I finally understand the cosy, magic and stress of going home for the holidays as I retreated back to Santa Barbara to spend Christmas with friends, family and those I love. I also understand that 2013 can’t come quick enough! Hoping that wherever you are, however you celebrate, that you have a little magic today, too. Looking forward to sharing more in the new year, and being part of things that time somehow wasn’t available for in 2012.