(Donna Henes, "Telling Time: Birthdays," Celestially Auspicious Occasions: Seasons, Cycles & Celebrations, 1996)
Hello, my lovely friends!
Birthdays naturally invite a pause for reflection, serving as a personal milestone to calibrate our gratitude and rediscover the small joys that define our daily lives. To mark another year of growth, I have curated a collection of my ten favorite things—the essential rituals, objects, and experiences that provide a consistent sense of wonder and grounding in an ever-shifting world. These aren't merely preferences; they are the anchors of my identity and the quiet catalysts for my creativity.
Sharing these favorites is more than a celebratory gesture; it is an invitation to examine what brings you genuine fulfillment. Our choices reveal the architecture of our values, turning simple interests into a roadmap for a well-lived life. As I lean into the possibilities of this new year, I would love to hear about the ten pillars of joy that sustain you.
My Ten Favorite Things
1. Old Hollywood Movies from the 1930s and 1940s
2. All things French, especially Paris
3. All things the Moulin Rouge; movie, music, and play
4. Books, books, and more books
5. Cooking, pretty much anything
6. All things tasting and smelling of lemons
7. Coffee
8. Gardening in containers
9. Obsessed with my dog, Scooter
10. F1 racing
My soul has always felt a quiet pull toward the Golden Age of cinema, specifically the flickering black-and-white dreams of the 1930s and 1940s. There is an unparalleled sophistication in the rapid-fire banter of a screwball comedy and a haunting depth in the shadows of film noir that modern digital clarity can’t quite replicate. This era represents a masterclass in escapism, where glamour was a requirement and every frame was composed like a Renaissance painting. That same appreciation for timeless aesthetics bleeds into my profound Francophilia. To me, France—and Paris in particular—is not just a destination but a philosophy of living. It is the art of the flâneur, the intentionality of a perfectly crusty baguette, and the ability to find romance in the limestone walls of the Marais. This fascination finds its most vibrant expression in the spectacle of the Moulin Rouge. Whether through the lens of Baz Luhrmann’s frenetic masterpiece, the pulse of the stage production, or the bohemian history of the Montmartre cabaret itself, I am captivated by that "spectacular spectacular" fusion of tragedy, neon, and high-kicking rebellion.
When I am not wandering through the streets of Paris in my mind, I am likely lost in the tangible weight of a book. My relationship with literature is one of joyous excess; my shelves are less of a library and more of a sanctuary. Books are the vessel through which I experience a thousand different lives, providing a depth of introspection that keeps me grounded. This love for sensory richness naturally migrates from the library to the kitchen, where I view cooking as a daily ritual of alchemy. There is a meditative quality to the chop of a knife and the simmer of a sauce, a process that allows me to transform raw ingredients into comfort. Within this culinary world, I have a specific, almost reverent obsession with lemons. The bright, acidic zap of citrus is my North Star; whether it’s the zest in a lemon curd or the fragrant oil of a squeezed rind, the scent alone is enough to reset my entire mood.
The morning, however, truly begins with the dark, aromatic complexity of coffee. It is more than a caffeine delivery system; it is the quietest, most consistent companion of my creative life, marking the transition from sleep to wakefulness with its bitter warmth. As the day unfolds, I find a different kind of peace tending to my container garden. There is something uniquely rewarding about cultivating life in limited spaces, turning a balcony or a porch into a lush, curated ecosystem. It requires a specific kind of patience and an eye for detail, much like the attention I shower upon my dog, Scooter. My bond with him is the heartbeat of my home; he is a constant reminder of unconditional loyalty and the simple, profound joy of a wagging tail or a head resting on my knee.
While much of my life is defined by these gentle, tactile pleasures, I harbor a fierce, adrenaline-fueled passion for the high-octane world of Formula 1 racing. There is a fascinating paradox in the sport—the cold, clinical precision of engineering clashing with the raw, visceral bravery of the drivers pushing physics to its absolute limit. Every Grand Prix is a narrative of strategy and split-second decisions played out at 200 miles per hour, offering a thrilling contrast to the quiet moments spent reading or gardening. From the silver screen of the 1940s to the roar of a turbocharged engine, these interests are the threads that weave together my personal tapestry, balancing the elegance of the past with the exhilarating pulse of the present.
I’m so grateful you spent a bit of your day here with me. I hope the rest of your morning, afternoon, or evening is filled with little moments of joy and a whole lot of cozy. Take good care of yourself, and I’ll be looking forward to our next chat!
