Nothing much happens: bedtime stories to help you sleep - Recipe Testing

Episode Date: November 10, 2025

Our story tonight is called Recipe Testing and it’s a story about a quiet afternoon at home, preparing for the holidays. It’s also about leaves raked into piles in the backyard, cranberries and pastry flour, the incredible softness of a dog’s ears, soup pots and sage, and the comfortable feeling of your loved ones resting nearby as you cook. Join Kathryn Nicolai and friends for a one-night-only live virtual event on Wednesday, November 19th filled with calming bedtime stories, live music, guided journaling, and a few thoughtful surprises. You can tune in from anywhere! Tickets available now at https://www.pave.live/nothingmuchhappens 🎟️ Subscribe to our ⁠Premium channel.⁠ The first month is on us. 💙 Give the gift of glow this holiday with our listener discount on OSEA’s clean, clinically tested skincare. Just use code nothingmuch for 10% off your first order sitewide at OSEAMalibu.com We give to a different charity each week and this week we are giving to The Native American Rights Fund. They work to hold governments accountable. They fight to protect Native American rights, resources, and lifeways through litigation, legal advocacy, and legal expertise. NMH merch, autographed books and more! Pay it forward subscription  Listen to our daytime show Stories from the Village of Nothing Much.  First This, Kathryn’s guided mediation podcast.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Get more Nothing Much happens with bonus episodes, extra long stories, and ad-free listening, all while supporting the show you love. Subscribe now. Have you ever wished you could visit the Village of Nothing Much? Well, this is your invitation. Join me, Catherine Nicolai, for a live virtual event on Wednesday, November 19th, at 6 p.m. Pacific, 9 p.m. Eastern. It will be a cozy night of storytelling, music, and calm. I'll share three handpicked bedtime stories, including one you've never heard on the podcast, brought to life with healing music from Aya Ayal, and sound designed by Bob. We'll pause between stories for guided journaling and creative moments to help you slow down, reconnect, and rest. And you'll receive exclusive extras created just for this event, including a brand new illustration from the village.

thoughtful journaling prompts, and a few playful surprises to enjoy at home. If you join The Dreamers' Inner Circle, you can stay for a cozy after-party, where I'll answer your questions, share character updates, and reveal some behind-the-scenes stories that never made it into the podcast. You can tune in from anywhere, but it's one night only, so don't miss it. Go to pave.live. Live to get your ticket. That's pave.e.l-I-V-E. So you might know I'm a little, let's go with dedicated when it comes to skin care.

I have tried so many products, body oils, butter, balms, you name it, and only a few actually stay in my routine. Osea's Ocean Body Glow Set, it has earned a permanent place. The body wash is my everything shower staple. The body oil makes my skin. skin feel like satin. And the body butter, it's like your skin finally has had enough water, sleep, and therapy. I use both the oil and butter together. It really locks in the moisture so that my skin stays soft for a long time. That's my pro tip for free. Three full-size products

in a gift-ready box, so there's one for them and one for you. Give the gift of glow this holiday with our listener discount on Ocea's clean, clinically tested skin care. Just use code Nothing Much for 10% off your first order site wide at Ocea, malibu.com. That's 10% off your first order with code nothing much at OCEA Malibu.com. Welcome to Bedtime Stories for Everyone. in which nothing much happens. You feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolai.

I write and read all the stories you hear on nothing much happens. Audio engineering is by Bob Wittersheim. We give to a different charity each week, and this week we are giving to the Native American, American Rights Fund. They work to hold governments accountable. They fight to protect Native American rights, resources, and lifeways through litigation, legal advocacy, and expertise. Learn more about them in our show notes. We have something very special coming up. Our first live online, nothing much happens show. It's just a few days before Thanksgiving. It'll be an hour plus

of stories, sound, seasonal magic, beautiful songs. Don't miss the music. And a few surprises from the village to help you slow down and savor this cozy time of year. I hope you'll join us. Follow the link in our show notes to get your ticket now. And as always, for ad-free, and bonus apps. Click subscribe in Spotify or Apple or go to Nothing Much Happens.com. All you need to do in order for this to work

is to listen and listen regularly. This is a form of brain training, so give it some time to take effect. Don't try to force sleep. Just listen to the sound of my voice. I'll tell the story twice, and I'll go a little bit slower the second time through. If you wake later in the night, don't debate with yourself.

Just press play again, and you'll drift right back off. Our story tonight is called recipe testing, and it's a story of, about a quiet afternoon at home, preparing for the holidays. It's also about leaves raked into piles in the backyard, cranberries and pastry flour, the incredible softness of a dog's ears, soup pots and sage, and the comfortable feeling of your loved ones resting nearby as you cook. Now, it's time for one of the sweetest moments of the day. Get as comfortable as you can and let your whole body sink into your sheets. You are about to fall asleep, and you will sleep deeply all night.

breathe in through the nose sigh from your mouth do one more like that breathe in and out good recipe testing The kitchen counters were full of paper grocery sacks

A row of wobbly squashes leaned against a mixing bowl And some rogue cranberries that had slipped their net Were scattered among recipe books And bunches of sage and rosemary. Surveying all of it and me as I unpacked the groceries was a regal but frowning orange cat. Marmalade came into my life a few years ago.

After I spotted paw prints she'd left in the snow, on my driveway, and persuaded her to come in and stay a while. Though she came from humble beginnings, she carried herself with a definite air of royalty, of genteel dignity. And I could see that all. all of this clutter in her favorite room of the house just would not do. If she could speak, I imagine she'd clear her throat and using the royal we pronounce we are not amused. I sat down the bag of pastry flour.

I'd been lugging to the pantry and stepped over to her. We are a family of five. Two humans, two dogs, and one cat. But Marmalade and I belong to each other. in a special way. Each of us was alone before we found the other. And we made a family even when it was just the two of us. We were the original members of this band.

So as I reached for her, and she pressed her soft cheese. into my hand. I figured if anyone could soothe her, nudge her out of a crabby mood. It was me. I came closer, offering my shoulder,

and she climbed from the perch onto me. I had a way of holding her. snuggled in my arm with her cheek pressed against mine and her paw braced on my back that we'd been replicating since she was a kitten. Instantly, she began to purr, and I carried her through the living room to look out into the backyard. The trees were nearly bare, and leaves were being raked into piles by the other human in our family. Well, he was trying to rake them, but Crum, our little brown dog, named for his resemblance to what gets shaken out of the bottom of a toaster, was jumping into the pile. as soon as they were made. Where Marmee was reserved,

and maybe even a bit haughty, crumb was gloriously goofy, excited by just about everything he encountered, a cyclone of scrabbling paws. Crum watched, as leaves were tumbled together in a heap near the bird bath. This pile was three or four feet tall and as big around as his kitty pool. He hopped up onto the porch, and for a moment I thought he was done playing and wanted to come in.

But he was just giving himself a longer runway. He backed up to the sliding doors, dipping his head and scratching at the deckboards, like a runner, setting up in the starting blocks of race. Then, as if a flag had dropped, he raced forward leaping off the edge of the deck his body stretched out longer than I'd ever seen before all four paws pointing and reaching as he flew into the pile of leaves A cloud of them erupted into the air

as he dropped into the depths Marmalade watched the whole show with wide eyes and leaned closer to the window waiting to see that he wasn't hurt to marmee he might have been a bit of a brat but he was still her little brother

I whispered to her that he was fine having the time of his life in fact and pointed to some movement at the back of the flattened heap A brown nose emerged And behind it A healthy and hail crumb

Maple and elm leaves Stuck into his fur Marmalade relaxed in my arms And I carried her over to the sofa where the last member of our family lay, splayed out and snoring softly. Birdy, short for Bluebird, was a rescued greyhound,

a giant compared to the other two, but calmer and more content than them both. He took up two-thirds of the couch cushions, and Marm and I squeezed in beside him. He lifted his head to see what had woken him, then let out a little huff, and settled it down onto my leg. Can you understand what it feels?

like if you've never had a dog when one lays their head on you? First, it is a humbling level of trust that they are showing you. Second, it's simply very adorable. And third, it means you better not plan on getting up any time soon. I had recipes to test for Thanksgiving. We were hosting this year. And I wanted to make sure my green bean casserole and sweet potatoes were top tier. But nothing was in the oven right now.

I could stay for a bit. Marmalade settled onto my lap and began to clean bird's face. Cats' tongues are different than dogs. Theirs are built-in combs. They help them clear away fur with their sand-papery texture. And I giggled as she groomed around bird's eyes.

His lids lifted and stuck to her tongue for a moment. And there was no movement from his irises. He kept right on snoring. Once she was satisfied that he was, his face was properly tidied. She climbed across his body and stretched out on his side. I knew what was coming next. This was part of their regular routine.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, she began to massage him with her front paws. kneading him with her toes. Time to make the biscuits, Marmee, I cooed at her. I always wondered what exactly Birdie made of this. Did it feel good? Did he even notice? I knew he was too good nature to ever complain if it didn't.

I reached for a throw pillow and like Indiana Jones reaching for treasure perched atop a booby trap carefully swapped it for my leg tucking it under the greyhound's head his ear was flipped inside out and I returned it to its factory setting then draped it over his eyes like a sleep mask.

I've never felt anything is soft as Bertie's ears. They're like velvet, if velvet were also a feather. I stood and left them happy on the couch. Marmalade wasn't the only one who needed to make some biscuits. I washed my hands at the sink and tied on my apron. The house was quiet

as I put the groceries away. Every now and then I'd hear a bark from crumb or a car passing on the street. One of my first of my favorite things to do, one that fills my cup to the brim with contentment, is to cook something delicious while my family moves about nearby, like planets orbiting the same sun. I took a pot from the shelf, onions, celery, carrot from the fridge.

I had other things to test and make, but first, soup. Recipe testing. The kitchen counters were full of paper grocery sacks. A row of wobbly squashes leaned against a mixing bowl. And some rogue cranberries that had slipped their net were scattered among recipe books and bunches of sage. and rosemary.

Surveying all of it and me, as I unpacked the groceries, was a regal but frowning orange cat. Marmalade came into my life a few years ago. after I spotted paw prints she'd left in the snow on my driveway and persuaded her to come in and stay a while. Though she came from humble beginnings, she carried herself with a definite air, of royalty, of

genteel dignity. And I could see that all of this clutter in her favorite room of the house just would not do. If she could speak I imagine she'd

clear her throat, and using the royal we pronounce, we are not amused. I sat down the bag of pastry flour. I'd been lugging to the pantry, and stepped over to her. we are a family of five two humans two dogs and one cat but Marmalade and I belong to each other in a special way

each of us was alone before we found the other and we made a family even when it was just the two of us we were the original members of this band so as I reached for her

and she pressed her soft cheek into my hand I figured if anyone could soothe her, nudge her out of a crabby mood. It was me. I came closer, offering my shoulder, and she climbed from the perch onto me. I had a way of holding her, snuggled into my arm with her cheek pressed against mine

and her paw braced on my back that we'd been replicating since she was a kitten. instantly she began to purr and I carried her through the living room to look out into the backyard the trees were nearly bare and leaves were being raked into piles by the other human in our family. Well, he was trying to rake them. But crumb, our little brown dog,

named for his resemblance to what gets shaken out of the bottom of a toaster, was jumping into the piles, as soon as they were made. Where Marmee was reserved, maybe even a bit haughty, crumb was gloriously goofy, excited by just about everything he encountered. A cyclone of that.

scrabbling paws. Crum watched as leaves were tumbled together into a heap near the bird bath. This pile was three or four feet tall, and as big around as his kitty pool. He hopped onto the porch. And for a moment, I thought he was done playing and wanted to come in. But he was just giving himself a longer runway. He backed up to the sliding doors.

dipping his head and scratching at the deck boards like a runner setting up in the starting blocks of a race. Then, as if a flag had dropped, he raced forward, leaping off the edge of the deck. His body stretched out longer than I'd ever seen before. All four paws pointing and reaching as he flew into the pile of leaves. A cloud of them erupted into the pile of leaves. the air as he dropped into the depths. Marmalade watched the whole show with wide eyes and leaned closer to the window, waiting to see that he wasn't hurt.

to marmy he might have been a bit of a brat but he was still her little brother I whispered to her that he was fine having the time of his life in fact and pointed to some movement in the back of the flattened heap. A brown nose emerged, and behind it a healthy and hail crumb. Maple and elm leaves stuck in his fur.

Marmalade relaxed in my arms and I carried her over to the sofa where the last member of our family lay, which played out and snoring softly. Birdy, short for Bluebird, was a rescued Greyhound. A giant compared to the other two, but calmer and more content than them both.

He took up two-thirds of the couch cushions, and Marm and I squeezed in beside him. He lifted his head. to see what had woken him, then let out a little huff and lay it down onto my leg. Can you understand what it feels like? If you've never had a dog

when one lays their head on you? First, it is a humbling level of trust they are showing you. Second, it's simply very adorable. And third, it means you better not. plan on getting up anytime soon. I had recipes to test for Thanksgiving. We were hosting this year, and I wanted to make sure my green bean casserole

and sweet potatoes were top tier. But nothing was in the oven right now. I could stay for a bit. Marmalade settled onto my lap and began to clean bird's face. Cat's tongues are different than dogs. They have built-in combs. They helped them clear away fur with their sandpapery texture.

And I giggled as she groomed around bird's eyes. His lids lifted and stuck to her tongue for a moment. And there was no movement from his irises. He kept right on snoring. Once she was satisfied that his face was properly tidied. She climbed across his body and stretched out on his side. I knew what was coming next. This was part of their regular routine.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, she began to massage him with her front paws, needing him with her toes. Time to make the biscuits, Marmee, I cooed at her. I always wondered what exactly Birdie made of this. Did it feel good? Did he even notice?

I knew he was too good-natured to ever complain if it didn't. I reached for a throw. pillow. And like Indiana Jones, plucking a treasure perched atop a booby trap, carefully swapped it for my leg, tucking it under the greyhound's head. His ear was flipped inside out. and I returned it to its factory setting, then draped it over his eyes like a sleep mask.

I've never felt anything as soft as Bertie's ears. They are like velvet. If velvet were also a feather, I stood and left them happy on the couch. Marmalade wasn't the only one who needed to make some biscuits. I washed my hands at the sink and put on my apron. The house was quiet as I put the grocery. away. Every now and then, I'd hear a bark from crumb or a car passing on the street.

One of my favorite things to do, one that fills my cup to the brim with contentment, is to cook something delicious while my family moves about nearby, like planets orbiting the same sun. I took a pot from the shelf, onions, celery, carrot from the fridge. I had other things to test and make. But first, soup. Sweet dreams.