Dear Diary,

Well, well, well. Nice to see you again. I’m sitting here on the porch, the air is basically a warm hug that smells like salt and hibiscus, and honestly? My brain is approximately 40% sand at this point. Georgie is down for a nap after a two hour swim. But we made it! We touched down on Friday afternoon after a weird rocket launch delay so we had to fly an extra hour and a half and some out of the way route with 4 small (but well-behaved) children. I think I’ve spent about 85% of my time since then in a swimsuit that may or may not be stretched to its absolute limit because, let’s be real, the vacation snacks have been mostly dairy.

The weekend was... well, it was a literal dream. I’ve been hanging with my sister-in-law and the kids, We swam, we sunned, we ate our weight in fresh fruit, cheese and bread. I am currently sporting a tan line that says "I forgot to reapply SPF every 20 minutes like a responsible adult" but also "I am living my best life."

But today! Today was the best because my brother just finally flew in. I am so happy to see him. There is just something about family vacations where everyone finally arrives and you feel like the squad is complete, you know? Well, just missing mom. Dad’s here in spirit I guess. Hey Andrew, get Jackie and Jer down here pronto!

The Dockyard Dilemma (and my Pottery Obsession)

So, my brother really wants to go to the Royal Naval Dockyard. And look, I love the guy, I really do. But the Dockyard when the cruise ships are in? It is pure, unadulterated chaos. It’s like a human beehive but everyone is wearing a "Bermuda is for Lovers" t-shirt and wandering around looking for the nearest Wi-Fi signal. The ferry ride over can be absolutely nuts, think "packed like sardines but with more sunscreen smell", and I’m just over here like, hi can we just float in the pool and pretend the rest of the island doesn't exist?

However. (There is always a however).

The only reason, maybe one of two of the only reasons, I am willing to brave the ferry madness is the Jon Faulkner Gallery. Diary, I am not joking when I say I have a legitimate problem. I collect these teeny mismatched cups from there. They’re these gorgeous, salt-glazed, wheel-thrown little nuggets of joy. Are they technically for tea? Who knows, but in my world, they are the perfect vessel for a "little sip" of espresso, or more likely, a very generous "sip" of chilled white wine while I pretend I’m a sophisticated ceramicist instead of a girl who spends her days cutting cheese.

My goal for this trip is to get keep growing my collection of pieces that are mismatched but *similar*. You know the vibe, like they all went to the same party but wore different outfits? I want my kitchen cabinets back in Chelmsford to look like a curated art exhibit of "Abby's Bermuda Obsession." If I have to elbow a few cruise ship tourists out of the way to get the perfect seafoam green cup, so be it. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Flashback: That One Night on the Pirate Ship

Being back here makes me think about last month when I was on the island for the SailGP races. Honestly, it feels like a fever dream now. The races had just wrapped up, the energy was through the roof, and we ended up at this place called Calico Jack’s. It’s basically a docked ferry that they turned into a floating pirate bar.

It was wild. We were partying, meeting people from all over the world, and there was this moment where the water was sparkly-glowing and someone had a thought... is this the night we skinny dip?

Spoiler alert: We did not skinny dip.

I know, I know. Lame. But in my defense, the water was a little chilly and I didn't want to explain to the Bermuda police why I was trying to recreate a scene from a low-budget movie. It was a great last night on the island, though. Normally when I’m here, I’m with George, which means we are tucked into bed by like 7:30PM because I am basically an 80-year-old in a millennial body. But staying out late, feeling the ocean breeze, and actually seeing the island at night? It was a complete and total pleasure. Plus I got the spend it with my little sister! (Sorry, George, I love our early nights but the pirate ship was a vibe).

The "Mission: Tan" Agenda

This trip is going to be a lot more low-key than last time. Last month it literally rained the *entire time*. I felt like a soggy piece of bread. This week, I am on a mission. I want pool days. I want beach days. I want to return to Massachusetts with a tan that makes people ask if I’ve been replaced by a bronze goddess (or at least someone who hasn't been staring under fluorescent lights since 2022).

We’ve got the next week ahead of us, and while I say "zero itinerary," I’m secretly planning our Wednesday night already. It’s Harbour Nights in Hamilton! If you haven't been, it’s this huge street festival on Front Street. They close the whole road down, and there are local vendors everywhere (which usually means I buy more stuff I don't need), Gombey dancers, and this whole air park for the kids. It’s the perfect mix of adult-friendly (cocktails!) and kid-friendly (dancing!). Plus, it’s just so Bermuda. You can feel the heartbeat of the island there.

Wait, Back Up, Let’s Talk About These Kids for a Second

I know I mentioned the 4 kiddos thing, but Diary, you have no idea. My sister-in-law is a literal saint. How she manages to keep three tiny humans alive, fed, and relatively sun-safe while also looking like a vacation catalog is beyond my current level of comprehension. I spent twenty minutes today trying to apply sunscreen to a moving target (my 3 year old), and I’m pretty sure I ended up with more SPF on my own shins than on his actual body.

It’s chaos, but it’s the good kind of chaos. The kind that makes you forget that back in Chelmsford, I have a mountain of nightmares waiting for me in my inbox. I’ll admit, even though I’m 700 miles away, I keep checking my phone to see how things are going at the shop. Work never truly turns off. The executive function of my brain is offline which makes daily tasks unbelievably hard no matter how mundane they are. And honestly, I feel like I’m living in the in-between lately, caught somewhere between survival mode and peace, between vacation and reality, between holding it all together and quietly falling apart. I promise I’ll bring back all the inspiration (and maybe an extra espresso cup or three) when I return.

The "Mismatched But Similar" Philosophy

Okay, back to the espresso cups because I feel like I didn’t emphasize the importance of this enough. You’re probably asking yourself, "Why, why doesn’t Abby just just buy a matching set like a normal person?"

And to that, I say: Where is the drama? Where is the intrigue?

When you have a matching set, you know exactly what you're getting. Boring. But when you have a collection of mismatched cups from the Jon Faulkner Gallery, every morning is an adventure. Which cup will I choose today? Will it be the one with the slightly wobbly bottom that makes me feel like I’m living on the edge? Or the one with the deep cobalt drip glaze that looks like a stormy night in the Atlantic?

It’s the same philosophy I use when I’m designing a grazing table. You don’t want everything to be perfectly symmetrical and sterile. You want texture! You want varied heights! You want a little bit of unexpected "pop" that makes people stop and look twice. That’s what these cups do for my soul. They’re artisanal, they’re imperfect, and they’re completely unique. Kind of like me? 😆

Why the Dockyard is Worth the Sweat

So, back to the brother’s request. We are definitely going to the Dockyard. I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve accepted that I will be part of the "cruise ship migration" for at least four hours. And fine, memories have been made here and I will go visit and reminisce.

The plan is to catch the ferry from Hamilton: which, if you’ve never done it, is actually one of the most beautiful rides in the world. The water is an impossibly gorgeous hue of blue—striking enough that it catches your attention like a pair of piercing eyes staring back at you. Ever seen those before? Magical. You pass through the island with pastel-colored houses, and for a second, you forget that you’re about to be surrounded by three thousand people looking for the Frog and Onion Pub. Also a great place to eat at by the way.

Once we land at Dockyard, I’m heading straight for the studio. I’ll probably leave my brother to wander around the National Museum of Bermuda (which is actually super cool, if you’re into shipwrecks and giant cannons: and he definitely is). I, on the other hand, will be deep in the ceramic shelves, hunting for the "Chosen One": the espresso cup that will complete my 2026 collection.

But for now? I’m going to go see if my brother wants to grab a Rum Swizzle and watch the sunset tonight. It’s been a long year (or 7), and this reset is exactly what I needed. I might even attempt to not check my email for a full three hours. Wish me luck.

Happy Summer!

XX,

Abby

Song of the day: Noah Kahan-Deny Deny Deny

It’s the kind of song that allows me to be a "bronze goddess" on the outside while acknowledging the "soggy piece of bread" feeling I’m trying to outrun on the inside. Plus that album HITS. Mixed reviews but I do love it because I love him. Don’t fight me.