Maine, Pizza, Lobster Rolls, and Why I Work to Play

Dear Diary,

Hi, it’s me again! I skipped last Sunday’s blog because fxn life, man. Endless emails, inquiries, toddler, new house, boxes everywhere, probably a rogue screwdriver living under my bed now... big yikes.

I fully intended to write. I had the thought, “I’ll sit down and write something thoughtful and charming,” and then approximately fourteen things caught fire at once. Not literally, thank God, but emotionally? Spiritually? A little bit. Owning a small business while raising a toddler and attempting to make a new house feel like an actual home is basically like running a marathon while carrying a laundry basket, a knife, and a child who has suddenly decided socks are offensive. I also hate socks, Georgie.

So, naturally, I have been trying to shove as many little trips in here and there as possible. Because I need to keep my summer tan alive, obviously. And because it is lobster roll szn! Priorities.

Maine Was, In Fact, Magical

Last week, I went to Portland, Maine, and it was in fact the best weekend of my entire life.

I know. Dramatic. Very Pisces. Very “I have felt one ocean breeze and now I am spiritually reborn.” But honestly, I don’t even care. It was amazing.

I did an oyster and Prosecco cruise, which is basically my personal love language. Oysters? Yes. Bubbles? Obviously. Water? Sign me up immediately. That was exactly the kind of experience I needed, fresh oysters, a glass of something sparkly, beautiful views, lovely crew, and absolutely no one asking me about cheese.

It was only a little while on the water, but it felt like my brain finally unclenched. Then suddenly I was sitting there with Prosecco, looking at the coastline, meeting kind tourists from all over the place, and thinking, “Oh right. There is a whole entire world outside of my inbox.” A very important reminder, honestly.

The tourists were so kind, too. I was also a tourist, obviously. I love meeting people while traveling because everyone is a little more open. You always meet the best people on a trip. Maybe it’s the vacation energy. Maybe it’s the Prosecco. Maybe everyone is just happier when they’re not sitting in traffic on Route 3. Whatever it was, I loved it.

I also went on an Allagash brewery tour which was so much fun and exactly the right amount of educational without making me feel like I needed to take notes. The beer was great, the atmosphere was relaxed, and I got to wander around thinking about how much I love places where people clearly care about what they make. That probably sounds obvious, but it hit me differently this time.

When you run a small business, you notice the details. You notice the care behind things. The little choices. The way a space feels. The way someone explains what they do. You notice when people are proud of their work, because you know what it takes to keep showing up and making something when there are approximately 900 tiny things trying to derail you.

And then, because apparently one Maine town was not enough Maine for me, I made a last-minute decision to stay overnight in Kennebunkport. Was this planned? No. Thanks HotelTonight! Was there probably a more organized way to do it? Absolutely. Did I care? Not even a little bit. Have you met me?

Sometimes you just have to say, “Actually, I’m going to stay here,” and let Future Abby deal with the logistics. Future Abby is very resilient. She has handled worse. She has moved houses, answered catering inquiries from parking lots, and once survived an entire day on Red Bulls (still a bad habit) and Costco rotisserie chicken straight out of the bag. She’ll figure it out.

Kennebunkport was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that feels almost rude because you’re looking around thinking, “Excuse me, why does everything look like a movie set?” The water, the little shops, the boats, the buildings, the whole coastal thing, it was just so charming I wanted to put it in a jar and take it home.

And duh, it’s lobster roll season, and I refuse to behave as if it is not. If you’re planning your own trip up the coast, stop at Tripoli, grab a slice with provolone, take your shot of Fireball in the parking lot, grab a lobster roll at Markey’s, buy 5lbs of candy at Yummies, visit Fort McClary State park for some cool history. I promise these little New England stops make the #mems for making a whole day out of seafood, waterfront wandering, and pretending you live in a coastal Nancy Meyers movie. Don’t forgot your Instax camera and please practice how to take a selfie- or better yet, just ask a random stranger to take one of you. You’ll keep the bad ones for a good laugh when you need it.

Life Gets So Busy You Forget About the Good Stuff

It’s funny how life gets so busy that you forget about the good stuff.

The work. Running a small business. Keeping a toddler alive. Keeping sane. Keeping the house somewhat functional. Remembering to buy toilet paper before there is a crisis. Answering messages. Ordering supplies. Making lists of things and then losing the lists. Starting another list because apparently the first list has entered witness protection.

Sometimes my brain feels like the Amazon River. Just endless, winding, full of mystery, and probably carrying several things I needed three days ago.

And I love Graze. I really do. I love making beautiful food for people. I love being part of birthdays, showers, date nights, office gatherings, weddings, celebrations, and all the little moments where people gather around food and say, “Wait, who made this?”

But I am always cooking for other people.

I’m always building the boxes, arranging the fruit, slicing the cheese, packing the croissant sandwiches, thinking about the next grazing table, making sure everything looks beautiful and tastes even better. And meal prep. Good lord. That’s a different story. So it is really nice when someone else does it for me.

It is nice to sit down. It is nice to have someone bring the food. And the wine…

It is nice to not be the one checking whether there are enough napkins or if the grapes are washed or whether someone accidentally put the honey dipper directly on the table. (I have been that someone. We contain multitudes.)

I want to be happy. I want to see things. I want to enjoy good food. Meet new people. I want to take the little trips, even when they are last-minute and slightly chaotic and require me to reorganize my entire week like a deranged game of Tetris.

I am trying to take care of myself for my sanity, but also for my little one.

Because I want my child to see that life is not just work, chores, errands, bedtime, repeat. I want him to see that we can work hard and still go somewhere beautiful. We can be tired and still find something fun. We can have a messy house and a full calendar and still eat the lobster roll.

Especially the lobster roll.

I Work to Play.

I really do work to play. That’s the Pisces in me. I don’t know if this is technically astrology or just me trying to explain my personality with the stars because it sounds more poetic than “I get restless and book things,” but either way, it feels accurate.

Pisces energy is emotional, dreamy, slightly chaotic, deeply snack-motivated, and always looking for the next beautiful experience. I need something to look forward to. A trip. A dinner. A slice of pizza in bed. A boat ride. A little adventure that makes the week feel less like one long spreadsheet. If I have the means, I will go somewhere. I think I’m built different than other people.

Some people save their energy for the future. I understand that. I really do. But I also think the future is not guaranteed, and I don’t mean that in a dark or scary way. I just mean that I want to experience the good stuff before it’s too late. I want to be present for my own life while I’m building it.

I want the hard work to mean something beyond more hard work. That is the work-hard, play-hard energy. Not necessarily the old-school “party until 3 a.m. and show up to work at 7” version, because I am 38 and my body would file a formal complaint. I mean work hard enough to create a life you’re proud of, then remember to actually live inside it.

Take the weekend. Eat the oysters. Enjoy the company. Order the lobster roll. Go to the brewery. Stay the extra night. Wear the dress you were saving. Take the picture even though your hair is doing something weird in the humidity. Let someone else cook for you.

A Little Reminder From Your Tired Friend

I’m not saying it is always easy. Sometimes taking time for yourself feels impossible. Sometimes the emails are endless, the laundry is multiplying like it has a secret agenda, and your toddler needs a snack immediately even though they rejected the exact same snack twelve minutes ago. Sometimes you feel guilty for leaving. Sometimes you feel guilty for staying. Sometimes you just sit in the car in the driveway for five minutes because it is the only quiet place left in the entire universe. Honestly? That counts as self-care. I don’t make the rules.

But I am learning that the good stuff does not always appear magically. I mean sometimes it does. Manifest that, babe. Sometimes you have to make room for it. Sometimes you have to choose it on purpose. Sometimes you have to say, “I know I have 47 things to do, but I am going to go look at the ocean now.” Could really go for a nice homemade sammy in the back of the car watching a sunset right about now. That’s the good stuff.

And then you go. You take the trip. You let the kind tourists make you laugh. You make incredible connections with food, people and places. You eat something delicious. You walk around a pretty town. You remember that you are a person and not just a cheese-slinging productivity machine with a toddler attached to your hip.

I am so grateful that I get to work hard. I am grateful for Graze, for every order, every inquiry, every celebration you invite me into, and every person who has been patient with me while I figure things out in real time. You guys are part of this whole messy, beautiful journey, and I really do appreciate you sticking with me when I’m literally ALWAYS scattered, tired, late to the blog, or operating with the organizational skills of a raccoon in a dumpster.

I’ll keep working. I’ll keep playing. I’ll keep chasing the next good meal and trying to keep my summer tan alive for as long as humanly possible.

And if you need me, I’ll probably be somewhere in New England eating seafood and pretending I don’t have emails.

XX,

Abby

Song of the day: Lana Del Rey- Fishtail

Back in my Lana era, babe. It has that sultry, moody, slightly cinematic atmosphere that fits a coastal New England drive or a winding creative brain perfectly. Lyrically, it leans into that complex, self-aware romanticism and questioning dynamics, feeling a bit untethered, and craving emotional honesty while still sounding effortlessly cool. It matches the vibe of wanting a little drama and beauty in my day to day life without taking things too seriously. 10/10 execution, Lana.

You all know my boat obsession. Specifically ones with sails.

Yeah… 😆☀️