It rained last night. The tiny puddles on the furniture of the screened-in patio tell that clearly enough, and there is still the smell of petrichor in the air beneath the smell of pine in the pre-dawn humidity. I’m back on the East Coast, visiting my in-laws in South Carolina, and the weather of the southeast is both oppressive and comforting- like an old friend who can’t help but keep mentioning how much both of you have changed.

As the previous two weeks of work came to a close- preparing for a massive event, the increasing tempo of business, and preparing my small team (and the kitchen itself) for my absence- I dragged myself into the first of two too-cheap-for-their-price plane seats and quoted the Magnus Archives again. “I have done my work well, and none may ask more of me.”

Ensconced in my in-laws house, the first full day after arriving was spent doing what I can only think of as detoxing. I detoxed from needing to have something to do. From going to a job on a schedule. From having to have somewhere to go, or even do anything necessarily productive. “Matt, this would be a great time to get some writing done. Or read one of the books you brought with you,” my well-meaning mind tried to tell me. A more needful voice said, “Yes, but what I want is to listen to podcasts and nap in the sun.”

This morning, after waking up before the rest of the household (even my former rancher father-in-law to feed the dogs) eating breakfast, meditating and exercising, I’m finally sitting down to write… a thing.

My workaholism has made vacations difficult before. Even spending a few days just out of town a few years ago would create a kind of anxiety feedback loop over “not relaxing productively enough” and wasting my relaxing time on that most unforgivable of modern sins- doing nothing.

Yesterday was a little different. I was too physically and mentally strung out from the previous weeks to do anything useful, and I knew it. I knew anything I tried to write would be mediocre for the frustration it would take to wring it out.

“No, Matt. Take a day to detox. Do nothing. Sleep in the sun with a sun shower and humidity for a blanket. Drink local beer, enjoy the smells and senses of the East Coast. When you have the bandwidth, then write.”

It feels easier to focus on good routines here. My mother-in-law keeps her house clean and comfortable with her own regimen of good routines, an example of environment influencing mentality influencing behavior. I can’t help but wonder if my wife feels the same way- a safe space in which to re-order her emotional landscape to where daily life is something to accept and embrace rather than escape.

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It’s good to know I can still bake to relax. My mother-in-laws friends peppered me with a few questions regarding pies and tarts, so I promised to make a simple fruit tart for them and to thank my mother-in-law for her hospitality. She doesn’t have an electric mixer, so making the pate sablé by hand was a pleasant departure, as was the slow methodical cooking of vanilla pastry cream.

I’m still pretty terrible when it comes to decorating, but I did manage to get some fruit on the fruit tart.

It felt good to just make for myself and for those I love again for a minute, even something as simple as a vanilla fruit tart.

We head home in a few days- I’ve been missing my cat and the trails I like running, and I need to start coming up with a new dessert menu for the fall.

For now though, it’s nice to just be.

Stay Classy,