Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime stories for grown ups in which nothing
Speaker 1: much happens, you feel good, and then you fall asleep.
Speaker 1: All stories are written and read by me, Catherine Nikolay,
Speaker 1: with audio engineering by Bob Wittersheim. Nothing Much Happens is
Speaker 1: a proud member of the Curious cast podcast network. If
Speaker 1: you enjoy our stories, please share them any way you
Speaker 1: can with any one who likes relaxation and good sleep,
Speaker 1: and follow us on Facebook and Instagram for some extra cosiness.
Speaker 1: Now let me say a little about how to use
Speaker 1: this podcast. I have a story to tell you. The
Speaker 1: story is simple and nothing much happens in it, and
Speaker 1: that is the idea. Instead of letting your overworked brain
Speaker 1: run rough shod over you, you guide it some place
Speaker 1: calm and relaxed, and its natural response is to shut
Speaker 1: off and allow you to sleep. I'll tell our story twice,
Speaker 1: and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through.
Speaker 1: If you find you are still awake at the end
Speaker 1: of the second telling, not to worry. That's just fine.
Speaker 1: Just walk yourself back through any of the details that
Speaker 1: you can remember, and before you know it, you'll be
Speaker 1: waking up tomorrow feeling relaxed and refreshed. Each time you
Speaker 1: do this, you're training your brain to shut off faster,
Speaker 1: and finding deep, RESTful sleep will soon become the norm
Speaker 1: for you. Now it's time to turn off the light,
Speaker 1: set down anything you've been looking at, and settle your
Speaker 1: body into your bed as deeply and cozily as you can.
Speaker 1: Let's take a deep, slow breath, in through the nose
Speaker 1: and out through your mouth. Good, do that one more time.
Speaker 1: Breathe in and out. Our story this week is called
Speaker 1: get Away, and it's a story about taking a break
Speaker 1: from the cold and the ice. It's also about the
Speaker 1: feeling of falling asleep in the sun with a paperback
Speaker 1: book in your hand, the sound of waves at night,
Speaker 1: and the pleasant longing for your own bed at the
Speaker 1: end of time. Away. Get Away. We'd had it in
Speaker 1: the books since the end of summer, knowing that by
Speaker 1: the time midwinter came we would need it. I get
Speaker 1: away and escape from the bitter cold and gray curtained
Speaker 1: sky to someplace sunny and hot, someplace with ocean breezes
Speaker 1: and wild calling birds and hammocks strung from the leaning
Speaker 1: trunks of palm trees. And the days before we left,
Speaker 1: I found myself like a child in the last few
Speaker 1: days of school before summer vacation, coaxing the days forward,
Speaker 1: crossing them off the calendar at night, and giddily moving
Speaker 1: through my chores, making light work of packing bags and
Speaker 1: emptying the fridge. We'd had a few strange meals of
Speaker 1: odds and ends, getting through the last of the groceries
Speaker 1: and not wanting to waste any a cup each of
Speaker 1: the last bit of soup, plaits of French toast to
Speaker 1: use up, a loaf of bread, a salad made almost
Speaker 1: entirely of tiny tomatoes that I'd thought for sure we'd
Speaker 1: have eaten by now, and for dessert, as many bananas
Speaker 1: as we could swallow. We didn't mind. We laughed over
Speaker 1: the silly menu and clinked our glasses half full each
Speaker 1: of the last bit of wine from the bottle. When
Speaker 1: the day came, we were up early, blinking and yawning, quietly,
Speaker 1: pulling on clothes and loading our bags into the car.
Speaker 1: A long day of travel and a blur came next,
Speaker 1: broken up with winks from one to the other, a
Speaker 1: secret signal that meant, hey, we're on vacation, and we'd smile,
Speaker 1: and before we knew it. We were touching down and
Speaker 1: taking that first step out into the hot, humid air
Speaker 1: of a totally new place. It is a wonder of
Speaker 1: the modern world. Wake up in one place, in one season,
Speaker 1: in one fixed position of the earth, and then just
Speaker 1: a few hours later, be someplace that's quite the I said,
Speaker 1: someplace that doesn't resemble a bit the place you started.
Speaker 1: Soon we were settling in a room with the view
Speaker 1: of the ocean, a vast bed with thick pillows and
Speaker 1: crisp white linens, a balcony whose doors we slid open
Speaker 1: to fill the room with the sound of rolling waves.
Speaker 1: We stood, leaning out, arms around each other's shoulders and
Speaker 1: looked up and down the length of the beach, Still
Speaker 1: in our jeans and sweaters from the cold world. We'd
Speaker 1: woken up in what a feeling to be right at
Speaker 1: the very beginning of a getaway. The days stretched out
Speaker 1: in front of us, and we had only to fill
Speaker 1: them as we went, with rest and play and books
Speaker 1: and dips in the ocean and walks on the beach.
Speaker 1: I clapped my hands in excitement. Last one in the
Speaker 1: water is a rotten egg. We scampered, tossing off our
Speaker 1: cold weather gear rooting through our bags for sunscreen and
Speaker 1: swimsuits and flip flops. Soon we had our routine down,
Speaker 1: sleep as late as we could manage, order a pot
Speaker 1: of coffee and plates of fruit and toast, and eat
Speaker 1: them on the balcony with our heels propped on the railing.
Speaker 1: Then dress and go for a long walk up and
Speaker 1: down the length of the beach, hand in hand with
Speaker 1: bare feet, stepping along the very edge of the water,
Speaker 1: talking or not, sometimes just standing and looking out at
Speaker 1: the breaking waves, watching birds swoop and dive, fish jump
Speaker 1: when families walk and swim. Then we'd find a shady spot,
Speaker 1: something to sip on and work our way through paperback
Speaker 1: after paperback. When the heat was built up in our bodies,
Speaker 1: we'd wade back into the waves to wash it away,
Speaker 1: splash and play and float till we were hungry or thirsty,
Speaker 1: or ready to go back to basking in the sun.
Speaker 1: In the afternoon, as the sun was starting to slide
Speaker 1: toward the horizon, we'd drag our salty, sandy selves back
Speaker 1: to our room for cool showers on our sun kissed skin,
Speaker 1: and then stretch out across the cool clean sheets and
Speaker 1: somehow fall into the third or fourth nap of the day.
Speaker 1: Sometimes we'd make a bit of effort dress up for
Speaker 1: a dinner out on an open air patio, plates of
Speaker 1: local foods, glasses of wine, or a slow swaying dance
Speaker 1: cheek to cheek under strings of light and warm night air.
Speaker 1: And sometimes we'd gladly order some room service and watch
Speaker 1: TV through our toes and lay abed, listening to the
Speaker 1: waves crash on the beach as the weak waned. I
Speaker 1: felt myself restored. My skin and hair felt healthy and
Speaker 1: nourished by the sun and the salt, and I felt
Speaker 1: as though I could welcome a few more weeks of cold,
Speaker 1: snowy days back at home, now that I'd restocked my
Speaker 1: shelves with the bone deep memories of how it felt
Speaker 1: to be thoroughly warm and pleasantly worn out by the sun.
Speaker 1: At home, we'd soon see birds returning to nests, rivers
Speaker 1: swelling with spring melt, and in a month or so,
Speaker 1: the bare dark earth would break with the first shoots
Speaker 1: of daffodils and crocus. Soon after that, the rhubarb would
Speaker 1: be showing up in the farmer's market stalls, and we'd
Speaker 1: be thumbing through seed catalogs and planting out the garden.
Speaker 1: I thought I'd like to be back in our own
Speaker 1: bed again, and that it might feel good to have
Speaker 1: the clothes washed and put tidily away, How good to
Speaker 1: have some place to get away, to, to step out
Speaker 1: of the day to day for a bit and break
Speaker 1: all the rules of work, and then to have some
Speaker 1: place just as lovely, though in a very different way,
Speaker 1: to return to, to look forward to going and to
Speaker 1: coming back. Get Away. We'd had it in the books
Speaker 1: since the end of summer, knowing that by the time
Speaker 1: midwinter came we would need it. I get away, an
Speaker 1: escape from the bitter cold and gray curtained sky, to
Speaker 1: someplace sunny and hot, someplace with ocean breezes and wild
Speaker 1: calling birds and hammocks strung from the leaning trunks of
Speaker 1: palm trees. In the days before we left, I found
Speaker 1: myself like a child in the last few days of
Speaker 1: school before summer vacation, coaxing the days forward, crossing them
Speaker 1: off the calendar at night, and giddily moving through my chores,
Speaker 1: making light work of packing bags and emptying the fridge.
Speaker 1: We'd had a few strange meals of odds and ends,
Speaker 1: getting through the last of the groceries and not wanting
Speaker 1: to waste any a cup each of the last bit
Speaker 1: of soup, plates of French toast to use up, a
Speaker 1: loaf of bread, a salad made almost entirely of tiny tomatoes.
Speaker 1: I'd thought for sure we'd have eaten by now, and
Speaker 1: for dessert, as many bananas as we could swallow. We
Speaker 1: didn't mind, laughed over the silly menu, and clinked our
Speaker 1: glasses half full each of the last bit of wine
Speaker 1: from the bottle. When the day came, we were up early,
Speaker 1: blinking and yawning, quietly, pulling on clothes and loading our
Speaker 1: bags into the car. A long day of travel in
Speaker 1: a blur came next, broken up with winks from one
Speaker 1: to the other, a secret signal that meant, hey, we're
Speaker 1: on vacation, and we'd smile, and before we knew it,
Speaker 1: we were touching down and taking that first step out
Speaker 1: into the hot, humid air of a totally new place.
Speaker 1: It is a wonder of the modern world. Wake up
Speaker 1: in one place, in one season, in one fixed position
Speaker 1: of the earth, and then just a few hours later
Speaker 1: be someplace that's quite the opposite, someplace that doesn't resemble
Speaker 1: a bit the place you started. Soon we were settling
Speaker 1: in a room with the view of the ocean, a
Speaker 1: vast bed with thick pillows and crisp white linens, a
Speaker 1: balcony whose door we slid open to fill the room
Speaker 1: with the sound of rolling waves. We stood, leaning out,
Speaker 1: arms around each other's shoulders and looked up and down
Speaker 1: the length of the beach, still in our jeans and
Speaker 1: sweaters from the cold world. We'd woken up in what
Speaker 1: a feeling to be right at the very beginning of
Speaker 1: a getaway. The days stretched out in front of us,
Speaker 1: and we had only to fill them as we went,
Speaker 1: with rest and play and books and dips in the
Speaker 1: ocean and walks on the beach. I clapped my hands
Speaker 1: in excitement. Last one in the water is a rotten egg.
Speaker 1: We scampered, tossing off our cold weather gear, rooting through
Speaker 1: our bags for sunscreen and swimsuits and flip flops. Soon
Speaker 1: we had our routine down, sleep as late as we
Speaker 1: could manage, Order a pot of coffee and plates of
Speaker 1: fruit and toast, and eat them on the balcony with
Speaker 1: our heels propped up on the railing. Then dress and
Speaker 1: go for a long walk up and down the length
Speaker 1: of the beach, hand in hand with bare feet, stepping
Speaker 1: along the very edge of the water, talking or not,
Speaker 1: sometimes just standing on looking out at the breaking waves.
Speaker 1: We watched birds swoop and dive, fish jump, and families
Speaker 1: walk and swim. Then we'd find a shady spot something
Speaker 1: to sip on and work our way through paperback after paperback.
Speaker 1: When the heat was built up in our bodies, we
Speaker 1: wade back into the waves to wash it away, splash
Speaker 1: and play and float till we were hungry or thirsty
Speaker 1: or ready to go back to basking in the sun.
Speaker 1: In the afternoon, as the sun was starting to slide
Speaker 1: toward the horizon, we'd drag our salty sandy cells back
Speaker 1: to our room for cool showers on our sun kissed skin,
Speaker 1: and then stretch out cross the cool clean sheets and
Speaker 1: somehow fall into the third or fourth nap of the day.
Speaker 1: Sometimes we'd make a bit of an effort dress up
Speaker 1: for a dinner out on an open air patio, plates
Speaker 1: of local foods, glasses of wine, or a slow swaying
Speaker 1: dance cheek to cheek under strings of light in warm
Speaker 1: night air. And sometimes we'd gladly order some room service
Speaker 1: and watch TV through our toes and lay a bed,
Speaker 1: listening to the waves crash on the beach as the
Speaker 1: weak waned. I felt myself he restored my skin and hair,
Speaker 1: felt healthy and nourished by the sun and the salt,
Speaker 1: and I felt as though I could welcome a few
Speaker 1: more weeks of cold, snowy days back at home, now
Speaker 1: that I had restocked my shelves with the bone deep
Speaker 1: memories of how it felt to be thoroughly warm and
Speaker 1: pleasantly worn out by the sun. At home, we'd soon
Speaker 1: see birds returning to nest rivers swelling with spring melt,
Speaker 1: and in a month or so, the bare dark earth
Speaker 1: would break with the first shoots of daffodils and crocus.
Speaker 1: Soon after that, the rhubarb would be showing up in
Speaker 1: the farmer's market stalls, and we'd be thumbing through seed
Speaker 1: catalogs and planning out the garden. I thought I'd like
Speaker 1: to be back in our own bed again, and that
Speaker 1: it might feel good to have the clothes washed and
Speaker 1: put tidily away. How good to have someplace to get away,
Speaker 1: to to step out of the day to day for
Speaker 1: a bit and break all the rules of work, And
Speaker 1: then to have someplace just as lovely, though in a
Speaker 1: very different way. To return to, to look forward to going,
Speaker 1: and to coming back, Sweet dreams,