DelSo

Verb - that's what's happening

2012-02-12T11:13:00.003-05:00

I'm a person of action. If something needs to get done, I do it. If you say "can't," I'll say "can." When projecting into the future, I don't want to hear "would," because I'm already thinking "will." Are you with me? In case you're not, this is what I'm talking about:

I get my thing in action.
(Verb, that's what's happenin')
To work, (Verb!)
To play, (Verb!)
To live, (Verb!)
To love... (Verb!...)

Or perhaps you need the whole song and dance to get it...

Intentions are grand. Plans are wonderful. But, doing, making things happen, aligning words with actions, well, execution doesn't always mean death. Sometimes it actually means life.

Royal treatment at the Emperor's Palace

2012-02-10T17:10:00.000-05:00

Fried squid

Yesterday was the youngest Lilly princes' birthday, and as we usually do, we went to his favorite Chinese place, Emperor's Palace, to celebrate. Now I'd say there are probably 20 Chinese restaurants that are closer to our DelSo home, but Emperor's Palace is special. It's where the boys developed their obsession with Peking Duck and Fried Squid with sea salt and peppers. It's the place where I ate the night before Quinn was born, when my labor was finally beginning to become serious instead of just teasingly annoying. And it is where we go, apparently, when we have no money. Huh? Say what?

Roast duck wonton and noodle soup

Here's what happened... I was hungry. Really, really hungry. When I arrived home to pick up the boys following my class at the Y, I couldn't get on the road fast enough. We hauled up to Wolf Road, with an intended quick stop at Toys R Us for one last birthday gift. As Quinn and I got out of the car, I realized (with a barely restrained expletive) that I had forgotten to bring my handbag. After a fast mental inventory (how long could that take, right?), I accepted that I was going to have to go back home to get my new happy wallet, but then Liam said he had some cash. Stopping on a dime and reassessing the situation, I decided to buy the $10 gift with Liam's money and then hit another Chinese place for dinner. The Wine Bar guys had enjoyed a recent meal at Shining Rainbow and I figured we could give that a shot instead. Present purchased, we got back in the car to head home.

Peking duck

Then, I had a thought...we've been eating at Emperor's for so many years that maybe they would consider allowing us to eat and then call them with the necessary bank card info to pay for our meal. The boys and I consulted and agreed it was worth a shot. I pulled into the Emperor's parking lot and went inside where I was greeted by a big smile from the two male servers who have been there forever. I explained my dilemma, not even playing the birthday card. Without hesitation, they agreed and I went out to retrieve the elated boys. And we had a killer dinner. In a world of chain restaurants and mediocre customer service, it is such a treat to go to an authentic Chinese restaurant and feel so completely at home.

7 things you might not know about Quinn Lilly

2012-02-09T00:01:00.003-05:00

He was born on Chinese New Year (Year of the Rooster).
He has been described as "formidable." At the time, he was 2.
He is funny - really, really funny.
He possesses an uncanny ability to mimic voices and accents.
He has a fantastic memory.
He has a generous heart.
He is now 7!!

Apple-Oat Scones

2012-02-08T15:59:00.001-05:00

I've got a little thing for scones. Ever since the first time I experienced them on a British Airways flight, complete with clotted cream and strawberry preserves, I've had a particular fondness for them. They're also one of those baked items that look like they were more work than they actually were, which seems to impress people. Last weekend I gave this Martha Stewart recipe a try with okay results. I was originally attracted to the recipe because it used buttermilk, which means fried chicken in my house, and because they were promoted as fairly healthy.

I didn't follow the recipe exactly, opting to make the dough Saturday and baking the scones Sunday, which made the dough a little wet because the apples released some juice overnight. The scones definitely weren't dry. They also weren't particularly sweet, which I appreciated, but I still might add a little more sugar and cinnamon to them next time. And, there will be a next time.

How do you negotiate a mountain?

2012-02-05T17:36:00.002-05:00

image gatetrails.com

Here. You fill in the blank, as if you were me: Today while I was _________ , I got to thinking about __________. Seriously, I'm getting predictable. Anyway, this afternoon, I ran the back nine at ~~Albany Muni~~ Capital Hills, which has some monstrous hills, and I was mulling over how one gets to the top of the mountain - to the other side. As I was making my way up the absolute biggest hill on my route, gasping and forcing my ever-so-heavy feeling legs up the hill, I took one peek at the top. Or at least what I perceived to be the top. Sometimes our minds play tricks on us, don't you think? I locked in my goal mentally.

Once I knew where I was going, all I needed to do was focus on the next step. Again. Again. And again. My eyes carefully scanned the ground directly in front of me for obstacles, stumbling blocks. Sometimes it's like a regular steeple chase on the ungroomed trails, but it's never boring and my ultimate destination is motivation enough. My pace varied, the internal vision I have kept my drive strong. Up I went.

But, I know there are other ways to scale a mountain. Some are devoted to a constant stare at the peak of that mountain. Gaze never wavering, a steady and consistent pace. Not eyeballing the ground immediately ahead, but visually projecting to some future place. While I respect this other method of mountain climbing, it seems to me to lend itself to more frequent falters and falls. Because if you're not looking at what's next - if your focus is too distant, how do you leap the rocks in your path? The piles of decaying leaves and the mud that sucks at your shoes? How do you negotiate a mountain?

Dreadmill Blues

2012-02-05T13:08:00.002-05:00

image: benjamuna.files.wordpress.com

When I first began running after my shoulder surgery, it was winter and I made use of the treadmill at the gym. I really had no complaints about the experience. I could listen to music, watched muted Home and Garden television and people watch - all at the same time without tripping. I was motivated by the display screen and played around with the incline and speed, watching the calories count off. Actually, it was probably one of the few times I considered myself to be a numbers person. I never really understood the blanket dislike of running on a treadmill, I mean, what's so bad about running like a hamster in a cage? For outdoors time, I had the golf course for cross-country skiing. Remember when it used to snow here in the winter?

In the past couple of months, though, I've found myself beginning to understand the disdain for this type of exercise. Maybe it started at the Greenbush Area YMCA where they have televisions mounted from the ceiling rather than individual screens on each machine. It might have been the incessant FOX "news" assaulting my eyes that first turned me off to running as fast as I can without creating any distance between myself and something I find repulsive. And if it wasn't that, the episode of Paula Deen "cooking" with canned mushroom soup and multiple sticks of butter certainly was enough to make me uncomfortable. Gross. But, I believe my major issue with running on a treadmill comes from the basic fact that I simply enjoying being outside. In recent months, I've actually had a couple of moments when I've been running and I thought to myself, "If it all ended right now, I'd be happy." I've never replicated that emotion indoors on a treadmill, believe me.

Quinn and I are preparing for our epic train trip later in the month and I'm a bit stressed about getting my weekly miles in. I'm hoping to cob together some sort of babysitting when we're on the road and I'll bring a swimsuit also, just in case. Last week when I was in Boston, the hotel had a running concierge - have you ever heard of such a thing?!? Apparently it is a weather dependent service, but I thought it was a really cool amenity to offer guests. The timing of it didn't work for me, but check this out:

Now, granted, it was Boston and I always get lost in Boston, but it was an awesome little map nonetheless. As I try to push my weekly mileage closer to the 20 mile mark, my acceptance of a lack of snow, (and thus no cross-country skiing), feels far more natural than running indoors. Let's hope D.C., Baltimore and NYC offer opportunities similar to Boston or else the only thing more dreadful than the dreadmill will be my mood.

Super Bowl Madonna

2012-02-03T18:13:00.004-05:00

image popcrush.com

So, everyone around here is totally excited about the big event this weekend. Apparently some of the heroes are called BIG blue but are actually wearing road whites, while the others will actually be wearing blue. It's a huge day for sports fans in New York and New England - and it's going to be fun. Although, it could be even more fun if they would ditch this Superbowl Sunday nonsense and play on Saturday instead. Trust me, I think folks would indulge and spend even more if they didn't actually have to take a recovery sick day on Monday. But, I digress, what I really want to talk about is Madonna.

Last night, while I was watching American Idol (I've lost your respect, haven't I?) there was a preview of Madonna's new video and suddenly I remembered why I've always loved her...

She created herself - she is fabulously self-made. Madonna wasn't packaged or produced by a record label in the same way many of today's female artists are manufactured. And she most certainly isn't one of these Disney princesses. Every song she sings does not sound like the last song she sang and her style has changed a million times. She writes some of her own stuff and truly has a catalog of material. I'm not saying it compares to what great bands produced but, damn, Madonna's been doing her thing for a long time and I admire her hard work. She doesn't seem afraid to try anything and I respect her for living the life she wanted. I'm kind of excited for the half-time show for the first time in a long time.

Well, what part of the game are you most looking forward to?

(Un)Chain My Heart

2012-02-01T15:33:00.001-05:00

I'm all about independence. Looking in my pantry and seeing shelves filled with good food that I selected, purchased and carried home in my reusable bags gives me pleasure. Writing that check the other day for the property taxes on my home gave me a twinge of happiness that originated in the realization that I can make this thing called life work. This penchant for independence carries over into many areas of my life and influences my decisions on a regular basis. For instance, if there is a choice between two items, one made by an individual and the other mass produced, well, it's a no brainer. My optician is a real person in an office that bears his name. And no, his name isn't America's Best or Lens Crafters. I can't imagine ordering pizza from Papa John or Domino's or choosing cheesecake from a Factory when we are blessed with Cheesecake Machismo.

Once in a great while, however, an exception presents itself. As in Mr. Fussy's predilection for Chipotle or the love I have for a perfectly prepared Caramel Machiatto from Starbuck's. Rules are made to be broken, no? Which brings me to the fondness I have for a chain (gasp!) restaurant I was turned on to in Boston. It all began a couple of years ago on Labor Day weekend. I had arrived in Boston hungry - and clueless about where to go to rectify the situation. If you've traveled with me before you know I refuse to go to chain restaurants preferring to find something representative of my location. I'm also kind of particular about what I eat. I just don't feel good about eating poorly prepared or overly processed foods, so I avoid them. Walking down Newbury Street seemed my best route to find something good and my ~~obsessiveness~~ patience was rewarded when I encountered a couple exiting a place that looked promising - The Capital Grille. In my defense, I had no idea this place had multiple locations. The menu looked good, the departing diners were very enthusiastic about their experience and the bar was inviting. I was in.

Everything about my meal was enjoyable - the carpaccio, oysters and salad, the wine selection by the glass, the nice folks I talked to throughout my meal. Not a single bump in the road. Then dessert came along...

I was in Boston last weekend - eating this was my motivation for a run!

Holy coconut cream pie!! Have you ever seen such a gorgeous hunk of creamy, toasted coconut goodness in your life? The pie is served in an individual shortbread-ish and coconut shell that could easily serve three polite sharers. The filling is creamy with a hint of rum and the topping is miraculously light, even with that drizzle of caramel sauce. Unfrigging believable. I tracked down a recipe that looks promising and may attempt it this weekend. I make no promises other than if I do, I will visually share my results.

Sunday Mornings in the DelSo

2012-01-30T16:37:00.000-05:00

I've always loved Sundays - fat newspapers, leisurely breakfasts, a second cup of coffee... They're just relaxing. For the last couple of months, I've switched things up a bit, though, delaying my TU fix until a bit later in the morning to squeeze in a little yoga at the DelSo's own Yoga Loft. Although adding something to a day doesn't always equate with enhancing well being, yoga, perhaps exercise in general, scoffs at this notion. Making the time to stretch my body and calm down my brain is an addition to my schedule that starts the day off with balance and community - ommmmmmmmmmmm.

The Sunday morning Sadhana is more of a shared practice than a class designed to instruct. The mood is mellow with lots of constructive observations, countless adaptations, and a decidedly casual feel. If you're looking to be pushed, this is probably not going to be your thing. However, if you're interested in exploring and sharing your practice, as well as making a monetary donation to a local organization, you need to get yourself to 540 Delaware Avenue Sunday morning.

Here's the skinny: Sunday mornings from 9:30-11 (isn't that a nice civilized Sunday time?) the Yoga Loft offers a weekly class with a rotating schedule of teachers. The price? Pay what you will. Now, don't be cheap because the money is donated, on a monthly basis, to charity. January's recipient was the Humane Society. See? Feel good physically, spiritually, mentally and karmically. And, yes, karmically is a word. It's in the free dictionary.

Sunday morning bliss is only going to get more...ah, blissful, when All Good Bakers hits the space right next door to the Yoga Loft. Good thing I can walk there - that parking lot is going to be full!

Von Strasser Cabernet, Diamond Mountain, Napa, 2006

2012-01-30T07:44:00.000-05:00

Von Strasser Cabernet, Diamond Mountain, Napa, 2006

Let's see about the go see

2012-01-26T23:01:00.003-05:00

It has been a very odd week. And I'm not complaining. Did you know that in the not too distant past I thought every day of my life was going to be the same as yesterday? I had a sad, sad feeling that the next 30 years of my life were going to be coasting towards the ultimate end. Yep, that was it. The life I know today couldn't be more different than what I had tried to convince myself was an acceptable reality. The life I know today is, in fact, Better Than Ever. Which brings me to my recent adventure - an interview for an upcoming article at O magazine...

My former roommate, forever friend, longtime encourager of my writing, Rachel Aydt, sent me an intriguing (don't you love this word?!?) casting call from a former colleague of hers. O magazine was looking to cast a story about women who have experienced a shift, emotional, physical, mental, or spiritual, and who now feel they are indeed Better Than Ever. I don't know if I would have naturally seen myself in this light, but when you get an email from an old friend encouraging you to submit the requested photos and accompanying paragraph, you do it. So I did.

Which brings me to one of the most interesting points of this entire experience - how people, both those of longtime familiarity and of new acquaintance, perceive you. We've talked before about the fact that I am vain and self-satisfied. I won't deny it. I've worked really f'n hard for everything I have and I've kicked myself in the ass as frequently as I've patted myself on the back. Believe me. I know where I've come from and what I've achieved and am comfortable feeding my ego internally. What boggles me is when someone tells me that I inspire them or that I am Better Than Ever. That blows me away.

image from wikipedia

So, I went to NYC on a go see, just like in America's Next Top Model. Except, I'm not 6 feet tall with perfect teeth or even a fetching space between my top two teeth. And I can't imagine walking in heels higher than 3.5". And I honestly don't know how to reconcile the fact that I'm obviously a size small to people who don't know me, while in my own mind I am perennially a size medium. I had to draw an "x" through the line on the intake form where they wanted to know what modeling agency I was with, because I'm not a model. I'm just a woman with a story. And whether O magazine sees it or not, I know that I am Better Than Ever.

To be continued....

The Eternal Ones

2012-01-25T07:09:00.000-05:00

After what feels like a long time, I've fallen in love with reading books again and have relegated the iPad to a place not on my nightstand. Yes, yes, I know that some folks read books on iPads or other electronic readers, but that isn't really my way. I like to turn pages.

Anticipating a couple of personal days contending with a civil lawsuit (intriguing, yes?), I grabbed a novel to occupy my mind - Kirsten Miller's the eternal ones. From the jacket I was able to determine that it was a tale similar to Ann Brashare's My Name is Memory and The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I cracked the jacket with realistic enthusiasm and proceeded to be...mildly entertained? Here's the good news - there are a couple of likable characters and the descriptions of Italy and New York City provide interest and color. The book is also a really quick read, I read faster and faster because I was so amused by the ridiculousness of the story that I couldn't wait to see what inaneness came next. The only thing unpredictable about the plot was the consistently unimagined absurd plot twists.

This book had it all - romance, religion, adventure, drug abuse, a lovable gay stereotype, fashion, travel, mystery, suspense, humor, Satan... The only thing missing was plausibility. Hey, guess you can't have everything, right? Like those hours back that I spent reading this dreck.

Doing new math

2012-01-23T16:08:00.003-05:00

image from: www.valdosta.edu

I was working on homework with my youngest son the other night. He's in first grade and we were doing math. I encountered a problem that absolutely boggled me for at least 90 seconds. No, really. It was a simple addition question, but the method my son is being taught is very different from the way I originally learned addition. Students are being taught to make "tens" when they have problems in which the solution is more than ten. Like this question: 8+5 would be figured out by adding 8+2 (=10) + 3(5-2) = 13. Now, I believe I've mentally being doing math this way for years, but it caused me to wonder are children being served by taking this eventually intuitive method of math away from them before they can fully grasp it? And, like I asked when I was in geometry class, how do, we use this stuff when we grow up anyway?

Well, grown-up math is a bit different than algebra and geometry. (I can't speak of trigonometry or any other higher orders of math. I never got there.) My favorite math class was algebra, probably because it was word math. Replacing variables in a sentence or problem, with definite numbers, and solving for a specific answer often expressed with words, flexed my brain and satisfied me. As an adult, many of the word problems I encounter involve taking chances in life - accepting risk in the hopes of achieving an satisfying solution. Counting on people to do what they promise and intend. Weighing risks and odds and making the decision to try and solve for X. Will A + B - C = Happy? Who knows? Will it all add up?

In life, (as in math) there are positives and negatives, and just because I've always been more a word girl than a numbers girl, please don't ever assume I'm not capable of doing the math. I may not yet know the ultimate solution but I'm more than willing to show all my work.

Roast Beast

2012-01-22T20:18:00.002-05:00

While I wouldn't consider myself to be overly impressed by beefcake, I do enjoy a good piece of meat. Last night I treated the Lilly ~~boys/~~princes to a beautiful roast beef dinner. Or roast beast, as I said to Quinn.

I prepared the beef simply, with salt and pepper, and placed the roast on a meat rack in my magic roasting pan. Below the beef in the pan was a combination of red wine, beef stock and sliced onions adding some steamy richness to the oven. Confession: I don't know what I do wrong, but I struggle to slice roast beef as thinly as I would like. Yes, my knife is sharp. Any hints?

After spending the day in the crockpot

Dinner was tasty and there were unsliced leftovers of the 2.5 lb roast despite Griffin's best efforts. I only had to threaten Quinn with discipline twice, both times related to the mashed yellow and sweet orange potatoes. As if beef and mashed potatoes aren't the ultimate pairing!

This morning I placed the beef, the au jus/onion liquid and a couple of canned chipotles in adobo, into the crock pot and let things simmer all day. Tonight, I removed the meat and shredded/sliced it, adding my leftover mashed potatoes from the previous night to the juices in the pot. This step worked to both thicken things up a bit and to take the edge off my enthusiasm with the chilis. Delicious. Like a spicy beef stew that would only have been more wonderful with some sliced avocado and a cheese quesadilla. Maybe tomorrow.

A Tale of Two Pinots

2012-01-22T14:24:00.003-05:00

A Tale of Two Pinots

A cool follow-up to this post - I responded to a Tweet from Empire Wines inquiring about what their followers were drinking on a Wednesday. I mentioned the Talbott Logan - I was at work, sometimes I have to have a glass of wine when I'm working. Empire must have retweeted me because I got a tweet from Talbott thanking me for enjoying their wine. I responded to them and asked if the Logan Pinot was restaurant only because Empire didn't have it available. They responded saying "no," and offered to discount my s&h if I would like to purchase some directly from them.

And that, my friends, is Marketing 101 using social media.

Strawberry Field Forever

2012-01-20T07:44:00.002-05:00

In case you don't know, I love baked goods. Cookies are one of my favorite things to snack on, especially with a tall glass of cold milk, but I've pretty much been disappointed by the cupcakes I've tried around town. I don't really understand why they have to be filled with artificial ingredients and the ration of frosting to cake is usually way wrong for me. I've contented myself with baking for ~~myself and~~ the boys to satisfy a craving, and usually have cookies stashed somewhere in the pantry. I like cookies for the size and variety - and the fact that I can eat 3 or 4 and feel adequately indulged. But, I believe I've found another option...

At last week's Albany Wine and Dine for the Arts I had an opportunity to try a new kind of delciousness - cake pops. These beauties were prepared by Strawberry Field Confections
based in Clifton Park and they were fantastic! Their display table was eye-catching with artfully presented trays laden with colorful treats in a mind boggling array of flavors - German chocolate with walnuts, Salted caramel, lemon, pistachio and my favorite - carrot cake.

I should have had these, too! Silly Silvia.

The carrot cake pop was moist, perfectly spiced and three bites. I considered going back for a salted caramel one but got distracted by Yono's short ribs and the pork belly from the Wine Bar. Ah, sweet regret...I didn't get pricing information but if I had an event that demanded a dessert course, I would definitely look into these babies as an option.

Savory Bread Pudding

2012-01-17T16:04:00.000-05:00

I'm not a vegetarian, but every once in a while I have a dish that tells me I could be without missing meat at all. Like this fabulous mushroom dish prepared by Jason Baker, the chef at the Wine Bar and Bistro on Lark - where I am lucky enough to work a couple of nights a week. Damn, that was tasty!

King Oyster Mushroom small plate - by Jason Baker

Thanks to another guy, Jonathan, at the bistro, I experienced my first savory bread pudding recently. It isn't often that I request a recipe from someone, but this bread pudding was unlike anything I've ever eaten - earthy, cheesy, and a touch squashy sweet - delicious comfort food perfect for a potluck, brunch or Super Bowl party. I made mine with a molasses sweetened multi-grain bread, which I think added a nice dark richness to the finished product. Next time I make it (and there most certainly will be a next time), I will be a bit less enthusiastic about the amount of bread I use. It was a tad drier than I would have liked. Nonetheless, the kale released a bit of juice which prevented things from being too dry and the 5th period lunch crew really seemed to enjoy my Monday offering.

Bubbly, hot veggies, cheese and bread - oh, my!

There were some leftovers to contend with and, in my opinion, this dish screamed for a fried egg or two to take it to a whole 'nother time of the day - breakfast. I'm a big fan of getting some fruit and/or veggies servings in early in the day and this recipe does the trick. Don't be shy - add some ham or smoked salmon, maybe mix things up with spinach or a variety of squashes. Remember - it's your meal! Or meals, as the case may be.

The breakfast version. You know I like me a fried egg. Or two.

All is Good in the Neighborhood!

2012-01-15T10:59:00.000-05:00


The All Good Baker folks at The Wine and Dine for the Arts Festival

2012 had begun on a very high note in the DelSo...we're going to become the new home for Albany's only farm to baker, All Good Bakers. Local, sustainable and fresh pretty much sums up their creed and the photos below offer a glimpse of how good those adjectives look when in the Fosters' capable hands. I can't wait to finally have an opportunity to get really familiar with all the good things created by All Good Bakers. If that crazy delicious grilled cheese on their sourdough that I sampled at the Food and Wine Fest is any indication of what local, sustainable and fresh tastes like, well...I may want to hold on to some of my more generously cut jeans...

Beef Stir-fry

2012-01-15T10:10:00.001-05:00

Do you ever buy those really thin cuts of beef at the grocery store? They're done in minutes and the boys love them - and there are never any leftovers when I cook with these inexpensive pieces of beef. I think some folks may use them for steak sandwiches or something along those lines, but at my house they scream "stir-fry!" So that's what we did...

I sliced the "steaks" into thin strips and tossed them into a mixture of kecap menis, soy sauce and freshly squeezed orange juice. Into the wok they went with a little sesame oil and chopped scallions. This dish lends itself to your creativity - maybe add some matchstick carrots or sugar snap peas. How about some par-cooked sweet potato rounds or water chestnuts? A quick minute or 3 and they're done. On this particular evening, I served them with some sesame ginger rice, and sliced orange peppers and avocado - making an appealing, colorful meal in less than 30 minutes. Take that, Racheal Ray!

We All Fall Down

2012-01-11T05:58:00.005-05:00

image from: hachettebookgroup.com

I have a dark fascination with addiction. I don't understand it, but I know that it is real and accept that it is a part of our society. It's everywhere. Of course, for every drug addict there is an ever widening circle of the people impacted by the drug addict and their actions. I think it would be very difficult to find a person who has not been touched in some way by addiction. Despite my years in the restaurant business, I have had minimal exposure to hard drugs or the people who use them. Most of my knowledge comes from reading memoirs and the experiences I learn about when there is a drug related death in a friend's life. Unfortunately on this particular day in January, I've spent time reeling from both of those occurrences in a single day.

A couple of years ago I read two nonfiction works written individually by a father and son, David and Nic Sheff. The father's book, Beautiful Boy, shares the heartbreaking story of losing a beloved child to a life of drugs, prostitution and criminal activity. And that Beautiful Boy, of course, is Nic. His tale, Tweak, told matter-of-factly, with false bravado and a persistent tone of disbelief, taught me about a world where drugs repeatedly ruined, and sometimes ended, lives. Nic has a new book out, We All Fall Down, which I just read in record (for me these days) time. The repeated trips to rehab, the 12 Steps that never were taken, and the disappointment that constantly waged war with the hope for a happy ending, made this book a real page turner. Knowing that Nic had relapsed after the original success he experienced with Tweak was disheartening, but this was one of those books that can cause a reader to hold their breath. Powerful.

Which brings me to the other part of my day. Perfectly lovely parents are not guaranteed that their children will escape the allure of hard drugs. I've been to some wakes and funerals over the years and too often they have been for people younger than myself. To witness a parent bury a child is to witness one of the deepest sorrows imaginable, and as a parent, I think it is impossible to attend these funeral services without projecting how one survives such a tragedy. I don't want to ever know.

Addiction is an illness frequently accompanied by undiagnosed mental illness. Depression is common, as is a history of abuse, and self esteem issues. Closing the book on Nic Sheff's struggles only to learn about a friend's loss of their beloved child to addiction and depression, is nothing short of shockingly sobering. On Friday morning when I share books with students as part of their class' requested "booktalks," the Sheffs' books will be included. While I've never subscribed to Nancy Reagan's Just Say No policy, I will do my best to make sure that children Know the reality and perils of drug experimentation and addiction. And then, Friday night I will attend the wake of a friend's child and do my part to offer consolation from the ultimate loss. We all fall down. I suppose that being surrounded by family and friends willing to support us, through our struggles and sorrows, is what allows us to keep picking ourselves up.

The half life of neglect

2012-01-10T06:02:00.003-05:00

According to Wikipedia Half Life is defined as the period of time it takes for the amount of a substance undergoing decay to decrease by half. It's radioactive decay. I'm not really a science girl - I appreciate the nurturing it takes for something to grow and I know that my health has been directly improved because of medicine (including radiation) and science, but, for the most part, I don't really get it. And, honestly, I'm not even that curious.

When I run, I exercise my mind. During last night's trot around the neighborhood, my thoughts were bouncing around - pausing on relationships that have inspired me. Inspired me to see things in a different way, to learn about myself and what makes me happy, to make changes in myself and my life. From out of nowhere, the concept of half lives flew into my mind and landed with a thud and I realized that I could apply that concept to two of my longest duration relationships quite neatly.

If you know me or possess the ability to read between the lines with perception, you've probably gathered that my mother and I don't share an easy relationship. It took me 30 years, a good friend's sage observations and a boatload of therapy to realize that, on many levels, I lived a childhood of neglectful. Understand, she was never, ever abusive but she just didn't have the capacity to address my emotional needs. No blame here, no anger (used that up as a teen), no judgment, just reality.

I guess I should consider it progress that it only took me half as long, til the age of 45, to wake up to the fact that my fundamental complaint about my marriage was a lack of emotional care giving. This isn't a criticism of my former spouse. I don't think either of us realized how much I yearned for someone to take care of me from the inside and I'm at least equally guilty of neglecting that part of myself. My own inability to recognize and ask for what I needed was radioactive poison causing decay, no doubt.

I know I can't decontaminate either of those prior relationships and I'm more than okay with that. I'd like to think that the part of me that has been becoming progressively smaller is the part that tolerates being neglected, by me, and by those whom I allow into my life. In the big picture, even a half life is far too much time to waste.

Perspective

2012-01-08T09:14:00.000-05:00

Thought while loading the dishwasher...

How I see it:

image from diagrami.com

How my dog sees it:

image from takeeouteeno1.com

“Ridiculous” Lamb

2012-01-07T21:30:00.000-05:00

My most recent contribution to Vinoteca. Lamb food porn. Ridiculous.

“Ridiculous” Lamb

Giving up

2012-01-05T06:12:00.000-05:00

Trying to maintain relationships with people who don't communicate with me. Done.

Reading blogs that subsist on recycled ideas and mean spirited observations. Living life on the edge ain't for me. Finished.

Paying more than my share in life. In a world of nickel and dimers, I've erred on the side of generousity. No more.

Not dealing directly with people and situations that are unacceptable. I'm no longer willing to have the discussion solely in my head. Over and done.

Avoiding wearing my reading glasses from the mistaken belief that I can't possibly be at an age when I really need reading glasses. Surrendered.

Saying thank you

2012-01-03T22:03:00.002-05:00

image from thank-you-site.com

How and when do you express appreciation? In an age of electronic and digital communication (are these the same??) are you inclined to say thank you with a phone call or perhaps an email or text? Does a simple and sincere face-to-face "thanks" suffice?

I recently read something about this book and it got me thinking about how meaningful an unexpected written thank you note can be to a person. And I believe that unexpected is the key word in that sentence. We're not talking here about the forced thank you notes children must write prior to being allowed to enjoy a present, or that obligatory wedding or shower gift acknowledgment. What I'm referring to is inherently more meaningful - a thoughtfully written note which communicates appreciation for an act of kindness, a generosity or a professional service. You want examples? How about three...

In the fall of 2010 I had corrective surgery on my separated shoulder. This cycling injury had become progressively more uncomfortable and I had arrived at the last resort - surgery. My doctor, Max Alley, did a fantastic job with the procedure. From his willingness to operate with a local anesthesia to the ultimate positive outcome, the surgery was an absolute success and I regained my ability to enjoy physical activities, most especially cross-country skiing. So I sent him a little note of appreciation. And - guess what happened? He responded in kind sending me a thank you note for my note! As I said to him in my note, I hope to never see him again, but if I do our connection will be more personal, which I think, is pretty cool.

A few weeks ago I had an errand at the newly renovated Albany County Courthouse. I was cutting it close on time and became extremely frustrated due to the locked doors at the main entrance on Eagle Street coupled with the complete lack of signage indicating how to get the heck in the building. I literally had to go to another building and inquire where the entrance was (on the east side of the courthouse. You're welcome.) and, when I finally made my way to the office I needed, I was told that I was too late in the afternoon (Friday, naturally) to get done what I had practically maimed myself (extreme exaggeration) to accomplish. I was not pleasant to the woman at the desk and I ~~think~~ know I spoke to her in an unnecessarily brusque fashion. She very calmly and competently defused me with her tone of voice and reasonable demeanor. I ultimately left my documents with her because she offered to keep them on her desk and attend to my matter first thing Monday morning. After I left, I felt awful about the manner in which I had behaved, so I wrote a letter to her boss, Albany County clerk, Thomas Clingan to commend her for her professionalism. I was most pleasantly surprised to receive a response directly from him thanking me for my note and expressing the appreciation of his staff for my notice of their hard work. Nice, right?

And my third example? Let's just say it involved a winning 50/50 raffle ticket with a substantial prize - maybe $2000+. And maybe the winner of that prize independently elected to donate $1000 of that prize to the family who the lottery originally benefited, while keeping $1000 as a contribution to a fund for a special upcoming family event and making three smaller donations to other worthwhile charities. And, perhaps, the donor never received the slightest acknowledgment of her generosity. (At least not from the largest beneficiary - the other 3 donations were accepted with appreciation.) Nope - not a phone call nor a note were ever received. Granted, one shouldn't be motivated to give by the expectation of appreciation, but I honestly can't imagine ever cashing that check before expressing my gratitude. Can you?

Maybe I should send them one more gift? Perhaps a copy of this post would be appropriate? Nah, I'll just continue on my own path of appreciation because what you put out there does eventually come back. Thankfully.

Unbroken

2012-01-02T12:22:00.000-05:00

image from nytimesbestseller.net

I just finished an amazing book about a remarkable man. Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand relates the absolutely inspiring life story of Louie Zamperini, an Olympic athlete, a soldier in the Pacific during World War II and, ultimately, a man who did not allow the extreme challenges in his life to permanently break him. Or, perhaps Louie's story isn't so much about how to deny life the opportunity to break oneself, but is instead a story that proves that it is the way we put the pieces back together, after being broken, that truly define us.

This excerpt, from when Louie began to run seriously, moved me. Perhaps it was my own physical proximity to where he had been decades earlier, but I felt as if I knew exactly what he had experienced.

"...he went to stay at a cabin on the Cahuilla Indian reservation, in southern California's high desert...He ran up and down hills, over the desert, through gullies...He didn't run from something or to something, not for anyone or in spite of anyone; he ran because it was what his body wished to do."


I imagine it looked like this...

Get this book for athletes, veterans, WW II history buffs, and anyone struggling with personal challenges. It is unforgettable.

Blessed

2011-12-29T23:40:00.003-05:00

image from wikipedia

I'm calling this in. From paradise aka Palm Springs, CA. There may be more typos than usual. I may be almost sipping my second margarita. I am, without a doubt,

Blessed...

1. To be alive, the ultimate blessing, but so infrequently appreciated in a conscious fashion. Sometimes the lack of appropriate acknowledgment of what a gift life is comes from a place of ignorance, kitten eyes not yet opened. Other times it is a more conscious decision. Looking too closely can be traumatic for all involved. But, when you see that place inside of you come alive again after the drought that had been your daily life, you understand.

2. Love. Giving it, receiving it, feeling it, seeing it, tasting it. Yep, love

3. Strength - being able to propel one's way through life is a gift. Period.

4. The opportunity to travel and visit places both new and familiar.

5. An appreciation of beauty. In so many ways.

6. Optimism. I really do believe it is all going to be all right. And if it isn't, I've always got my strength.

7. Discipline. Not in a dominatrix sort of way. Sorry, fellas! I just know and accept that some things have to happen. Responsibilities and commitments have to be respected. Always.

8. Creativity. I can look into a refrigerator with 6 eggs, a hunk of cheese and some leftover ham and give you 3 courses. Easy. I can figure stuff out. I sometimes make attractive things - beyond those boys.

9. The knowledge that happiness is good. And possible.

10. The ability to hope. Imagine being hopeless? That is a sad state of being.

11. Friends who love me long and hard. No, really. In the purest of senses. Their position as last in my list is a testament to their position as a part of me.

11 Things I love about the Capital District (part 2)

2011-12-28T08:48:00.000-05:00

11 Things I love about the Capital District (part 2)

Long and low short ribs

2011-12-26T09:09:00.000-05:00

When I placed my order at Falvo's for my Christmas Eve ham, I decided to add another something special for the boys' dining pleasure - and my convenience, beef short ribs. I don't know much about these succulent hunks of tender beef other than I prefer them when they are on the bone and that, until recent years when they became kind of trendy, they were always a bargain cut of meat. I paid $5.19 a pound and bought "8 bones" to feed three boys and myself, with leftovers.

The natural method of cooking these beauties is braising or in the slow cooker. I began by dredging them in flour and browning on each side in a splash of olive oil.

I did this in small batches and placed them in the crockpot as they finished. When all of the meat was browned, I deglazed the pan with a combination of red wine and beef stock, allowing it to reduce slightly.

I added some baby carrots and onions to the crockpot along with fresh rosemary and some small whole garlic cloves. I turned the crockpot to low and cooked them all night, waking intermittently and thinking to myself "Oh my goodness! What is that delicious aroma?"

In the morning I removed the meat and vegetables with a slotted spoon and placed them in my Le Creuset in the fridge for the day. I wanted a chance to skim off the substantial fat the ribs had released, so the "gravy" went into the fridge as well. An hour before dinner, I poured the de-fatted gravy over the ribs, covered the Le Creuset and placed them in the oven at 325.

Dinner is served! Aren't they gorgeous? This is winter cooking at its finest - hearty, fragrant and reminiscent of simpler times. Try this and thank me later.

11 Things I love about the Capital District (part 1)

2011-12-26T08:27:00.000-05:00

11 Things I love about the Capital District (part 1)

Home...

2011-12-22T07:01:00.003-05:00

There's no place like ___________.

_________ for the holidays.

_________ is where the heart is.

Each of these phrases suggest that home is a place, something with a distinct location, probably with a zip code. At this time of the year our thoughts often turn to that place as we plan where we are going to spend our holidays, and reflect on years gone past. Home, yet another of those 4-letter words that can mean so many things to so many people.

But is home really a place? Isn't home more a state of being than an actual location? Personally, I know that the first image that enters my mind when I hear the word "home" is of my childhood home, Greenwood Lake, N.Y. We lived in a number of different houses, so I don't imagine a particular residence. Instead, I recall a time period in my life, friends, and experiences that shaped me into who I am today. Despite my having resided in Albany for more than 20 years, on some level Greenwood Lake will always be home - and I'm a member of the Facebook Group to prove it. The other evening, I was walking around my house, my home of the last 15 years, admiring the holiday lights and the tidy quiet that temporarily makes me notice the boys' absence a little bit less. I had such a sense of peace and belonging that the first word that came to my mind was...home. Happy sigh.

Do you remember how Glinda defined home for Dorothy?

"Home is a place we all must find, child. It's not just a place where you eat or sleep.
Home is knowing. Knowing your mind, knowing your heart, knowing your courage.
If we know ourselves, we're always home, anywhere."

With that timeless piece of wisdom in mind, I sincerely wish you each have the chance to be home for the holidays and, more importantly, each and every other day of the year as well. And, although I won't be in GWL or in my DelSo home, or even with many of the people I truly love when night falls on Christmas, I know I'll be home nonetheless.

The weekend that was...and what a weekend it was!

2011-12-18T21:23:00.002-05:00

Wow - upstate NY, what's good? Oh, you want to show me all weekend long? You're on!

Friday afternoon began post-work, when I picked up my race packet for Saturday's 15th annual Last Run 5k. The process was well organized and the volunteers were friendly and helpful. Swag in hand, I headed to the Shaker Meeting House, with a like-minded friend, on an earnest search for the perfect tree topper. Motivated by the belief that there is much to look forward to, a star was the goal. We left empty-handed, but confident in the knowledge that waiting for the perfect beacon of light isn't always a hopeless act.

Sonya Kitchell

I stopped at the grocery store on my way back to the DelSo and got the fixings for pizzas. Within 90 minutes, I was back in my car, boys fed and lipstick on, heading for Hudson and dinner at Swoon. I met two friends, one old, the older even older. We had a super dinner. The ambiance was cozy with a kind of blurred around the edges feel to it like a sepia tinted photograph. From there, it was to Club Helsinki for a show which was disappointingly abbreviated for us due to the leisureliness of our meal. And this was Friday.

Saturday was productive, yet remarkably unhurried. I even snuck in a visit to Marshall's! I must admit, I'm becoming more accepting of spontaneity and surprises, something more easily accomplished when they both bring positive wonder. Have I mentioned recently how fortunate I feel? Blessed, I tell you. Have you read this? If not, please do it now. I'll wait. When you're done, let me know who that sounds like.

Anyway, in the late afternoon my running ladies started gathering and we headed to the race course. Dang - it really was cold! The excitement warmed us a bit and we watched the fireworks, itching to run. It was a great night, just a little wind, or rather a lot of wind but only in a couple of concentrated areas. The lights were magical. We celebrated post-race at the Wine Bar and Bistro in Lark. My Prosecco was perfect and our beverage was the perfect time filler before we picked up our takeout at Jewel of India. We opted for this place over Shalimar because I spotted a 25% off take-out orders coupon in the TU. Price for our evening out in Albany? Maybe $50 each including race, drinks, and food.

All quality - other than the lamb, that is. That was the toughest thing about the entire weekend.

Sunday was recovery in the morning and indulgence in the afternoon. For the second consecutive Sunday, I did yoga at the Yoga Loft in the DelSo. Yes, I can walk there. Following yoga, there was a little mad dash to get to the Madison for the noon showing of Muppet Move, but we made it with far too much time to spare. I'd honestly prefer to miss some of the trailers. Post-movie, it was cookie baking and laundry and then a solid 4 mile run that felt great other than that pesky discomfort I've taken to think of as my IT band issue.

The cure for that running "injury" and the other demands of a true weekend? That would be the hot bubble bath I'm just about to slip into with some quiet music, dim lights and thoughts filled with appreciation. What a great weekend, what an incredibly blessed life.

Tradition!

2011-12-16T06:23:00.003-05:00

Considering Liam's love for Fiddler on the Roof, it should come as no surprise that he pulled out the "t" word last week when we were having a discussion about when to get our Christmas tree. Since we like to cut our own, and are believers that a tree should settle a bit prior to decorating, I offered (after consultation with the boys' dad), two options: Saturday afternoon with the four of us or Sunday with 5 Lillys in a 'vo*. He opted for the second choice stating that we should all go together because it was a "tradition." I agreed without hesitation, but did spend a little time later thinking about traditions and their importance.

When I recall my own childhood Christmas memories, I think about things like that wacky silver tree we had for a few years in the early 70's, and the special linens and dishes which only got pulled out once a year. I remember the hushed mystery of midnight mass and eggnog sprinkled with nutmeg and packages wrapped with more care than I can ever muster. Even after so many years, the images in my head remain vivid (perhaps that metallic tree burned itself into my corneas) and the season's festiveness holds a special magic I am happy to immerse myself in during the month of December.

The power of memories and traditions as an influence on our own actions and celebrations can't be minimized. As a child I loved the tradition of Christmas cards - the special stamps and glittery excitement of what each day's mail might bring. I myself have continued the practice of sending Christmas cards despite my annual threat to seriously cut back, if not eliminate the practice due to the ~~emotional~~ expense of getting the perfect photo and creating the perfect card and honing and continuing to perfect my list of recipients. But it isn't really about perfection, at all, is it?

When my son used the "t" word, it made me proud to know that, despite the upcoming dissolution of our marriage, his dad and I have been able to navigate our way to a place where our boys still believe in and respect family traditions. So, last weekend the 5 of us drove together to the tree farm we've been going to for years (our original place slid into the Normanskill some time ago) and we picked two trees for the first time. I picked a different type of tree than we've ever had - it is smallish and has beautiful long, soft needles that didn't shred my hands when I placed the lights on it in my slightly OCD fashion. The boys' Dad got a ridiculously huge tree which I would have most certainly done my best to veto in years gone by. I'm sure we both believe we have Christmas trees that are perfect but, more importantly, I know we have provided our children with imperfect holiday traditions they will continue to honor long after the trees have shed their needles and hit the curb.

*a fond abbreviation for Volvo

2 years of DelSo

2011-12-15T06:55:00.002-05:00

Just about 2 years ago I started ~~over~~sharing my life here. I had initially imagined a forum for multiple authors to contribute news, impressions and recommendations about our neighborhood, Delaware Avenue south. That's not quite how things went but, really, how often do we actually know the direction of our path from the very beginning?

So, 24 months later, what do you think? Complaints? Suggestions? Favorites? Your turn to share.

Winter Wonder Lark

2011-12-13T06:29:00.001-05:00

Just in case you haven't had your fill of half-naked folks running down Lark Street, a few of my shots are below. It was a great day of fun, charity and local shopping. Who says Lark Street isn't wholesome?

Pics from the TU's Seen Gallery (not mine)

All Over Albany's archive of photos

Do you believe?

2011-12-12T16:28:00.001-05:00

image from:everydayliturgy.com

The holidays are the time of the year when our beliefs are placed front and center. Our choice of words in greeting, be it Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa or a less committal Happy Holidays, suggest what we believe in. When we decorate our homes (and our cars these days) we express, on some level, our beliefs. The presence of an adorned tree, a menorah, a crèche, all of these objects convey a message about what we place our belief in.

If someone were to ask you "Do you believe?" what would your response be? Would it be, similar to the perpetual "Fine," reply to "How are you?" You know, the sort of question that garners an immediate and automatic assurance that of course you believe? Perhaps you'd assume their query was merely a whimsical holiday-ish greeting and not give it another thought. Or maybe you'd revisit that question a little later, when you had a quiet moment to think about it...

I was thinking recently about what I believe in. I don't really have a formal religion, (despite my having acquired the Catholic trifecta of baptism, communion and confirmation) but I firmly believe that there is a spiritual presence in the Universe that I can talk with to express appreciation, fear and hope. When I look at all the world's wonders, I am comforted by the thought that there is some sort of plan for each of us, which leads to my second belief... I believe that life's timing is something to be respected and accepted. When things come together in a fashion which can only be described as nearly effortless, it speaks to me. Accepting timing gracefully is not always easy - there are occasions when I want something to occur in a particular fashion, yet, am thwarted by situations and circumstances. Things happen, I believe, when they're supposed, good and bad.

And, at the risk of sounding like a Dixie Chick, I believe in love. Romantic, passionate, "I've got your back" love. I would never renounce the years of my marriage, but, other than to try to catch a glimpse of the place where things began to go awry, I wouldn't want to revisit that time because I believe in the possibilities the future holds. I believe in living a full life, not merely an existence. I believe in intentions and decisions made. I believe in me.

Shopping for the left-handed librarian in your life

2011-12-10T12:41:00.001-05:00

Shopping for the left-handed librarian in your life

The Art of Running in the Rain

2011-12-09T11:39:00.002-05:00

Fun as a kid ~ fun as an adult

There was a time when I only was able to run on flat roads. I sought out routes that consisted of level surfaces avoiding even the slightest incline. Then I ran in the hills of Palm Springs and realized that scrambling over rocks and gaining elevation added to my running joy. I began to incorporate hills into my runs and grew stronger.

I used to allow the heat to discourage me from running. As the temperature increased, my interest in adding my own sweat to the pervasive humidity that is upstate New York in July, diminished and I easily abandoned my intentions to get some exercise. But then I discovered that a steady pace, and the relative coolness of the evening, allowed me an opportunity to stretch my legs despite the heat and my opportunities for running grew broader. Running in cold weather and precipitation never held any appeal for me. I'd see those people out there and conclude that they must be crazy - plain and simple. And then the day came when I was committed to getting a run in and the weather did not cooperate. I considered my choices:

skip the run and feel crappy
drive back to Delmar for the third time of the day and jump on a dreadmill
suck it up and follow through on my original plan to run

We've known each other awhile now (2 years, but more on that in a future post). Guess which option I went with? As I parked my car on State Street on a rainy, dark early evening I was utterly convinced that I was in for a miserable time. It was cold. And wet. Really wet. I started walking down the block past the Capital and something happened. Maybe it was the song in my ears or the holiday lights in my face, but I suddenly felt good. Really good. I was struck by a thought - what's so damn bad about feeling the elements? I had the advantage of adequate attire and the promise of a hot shower to follow. I wore quality running shoes and was fairly familiar with my intended route. I knew that once I was completely soaked I couldn't get any wetter, so why not just yield to the experience?

image: http://www.timesunion.com

It was amazing! I ran up Washington Avenue in a mercifully quiet rush hour, due probably to the weather. I observed the shrinking Occupation and silently thanked them for their efforts. When I approached Washington Park, my body felt warm and the festive, and charmingly corny, light display invited me for a private tour. On foot, of course. It was perfect. The course I took, which was a modified version of the upcoming Last Run, finishes with nearly a mile downhill. By the time I hit Swan Street, I'm practically at a lope, and by Eagle it's a full out canter. Fully engaged and present - ~~just about~~ exactly where I want to be.

Pasta Prosciutto

2011-12-07T15:39:00.001-05:00

Why don't I eat pasta more often? I mean, it comes in about a million different shapes, is inexpensive, incredibly versatile and quick. What is the matter with me? Last night I was inspired ~~and freezing!~~ after a rainy run and came up with a delicious, easy dinner that (finally) used up the prosciutto left over from Thanksgiving weekend. Behold - Pasta with Prosciutto!

To begin, I sautéed a few chopped cloves of garlic and about half of a large, sweet onion in olive oil. I really took my time with this to allow the sweetness of the vegetables to come out and to give the water time to get to a rolling boil. To keep myself busy, I cut my prosciutto into small bites and rinsed my broccoli rabe. Once the water was ready to be introduced to the pasta (I went with Campanelle or "church bells" on a friend's recommendation. Good call, my Italian friend.), I added the prosciutto to the sauté pan along with some crushed red pepper flakes. I had some walnuts on hand so I gave them a light toasting (with me, it's either a light toasting or blackened) and coarse chopping.

About 2 minutes before the pasta was ready, I added the broccoli rabe to the pasta pot to soften it a bit. Then it was just a simple matter of draining the pasta/broccoli and tossing it around the pot with the yummy olive oil concoction. I finished things up with a little salt, the walnuts and some fantastic grated aged Parmesan.

Welcome home, pasta. I've missed you and promise to give you much more attention in the future.

Turkey Pot Pie, sort of

2011-12-05T16:32:00.000-05:00

While my appreciation for Thanksgiving is boundless, I was at the end of the line with bountiful leftovers. Inventorying my fridge, I came up with a few chunks of sweet potatoes, some mashed potatoes, a small amount of sautéed mushrooms from Saturday's strip steak meal and some gravy. I thought I had some turkey, but other than a lonely drumstick, that had all been consumed by my "good eater" friend, Peter. Since I was mentally committed to preparing some comfort food, and I am master of the creative use of leftovers, I decided to make use of a couple of chicken breasts instead. The end result of my ridiculously easy efforts may have been the best pot pie ever!

Here's my technique: Unroll a crust and place it into a deep pie dish - or be all overachieving and make your own dough for a two-crust pie. Combine an assortment of vegetables, meat and liquid (more about this in a minute) and place in pie crust. The amount of liquid varies and unfortunately, I didn't make any attempt at measuring. I generally try to balance the liquid (gravy or broth) with the mashed potatoes to create a balance between moist, yet able to retain its form when cut into. In addition to using my gravy for inside the pot pie, I made use of it as a kind of "poaching" liquid, cooking a couple of chicken breasts in it due to my lack of turkey. I can't say how long I let them simmer in the gravy...maybe 20 minutes or so? Once they cooled off a little, I cut them up into bite-sized pieces and added them to the vegetables already in the crust, along with some par cooked some baby carrots. I checked my ratio of solid to liquid, thinking that the gravy should reach about the halfway point in the pie dish to ensure a steamy deliciousness when cut into. Check.

At this point, I showed my oldest son what I was making and he immediately dubbed it "Thanksgiving Pie." Fine. If that's what you want to call it, go right ahead. I topped the gorgeousness with the second crust and rolled the edges together and did my best to make it look presentable. I've mentioned before that crust is not my thing, right? I cut a couple of slits in the top to allow some steam to release during baking, and placed my pie in the oven at 375 degrees. I again remembered to place a baking sheet on the rack below my pie to catch any errant drips - yeah, me! After about 30 minutes, I increased the temperature to 400 and gave the pie another 15 or 20 minutes to finish getting all brown and pretty. I then called my neighbors and asked if they were hungry...

While I took a quick shower, I let the pot pie cool a bit and settle. Freshly washed, I grabbed my pie, some arugula and a lemon, and headed next door for an impromptu Sunday DelSo dinner with Ken and Lori. Their wine, my pot pie and salad, and another satisfying weekend drew to a close. Life, my friends, is good. Get some!

Admit 2

2011-12-04T17:35:00.002-05:00

or perhaps I should say two admissions. This weekend, for the first time ever, I agreed to be described with two adjectives I generally wouldn't use to describe myself. At least not publicly. The first was at a party last night. The house was cozy with food and beverages and many familiar faces. It was a nice party and I'm glad I forced myself out of the house, despite my secret desire to cozy up in a cloud of cashmere and watch a Netflix which I'm suddenly paying $30 a month for..huh?

image from: www.unm.edu

Anyway, it was nice to spend some time with two of my fellow Vinoteca bloggers and I was frequently introduced by my co-writer (correct term?) and hostess, Claire, as a blogger. I was asked a question I had never fielded before - "Why do I blog?" With only a nanoseconds hesitation I responded: "because I'm a writer." I don't even think I blinked. And, I didn't even backpedal or attempt to qualify what I meant. Damn.

Today I ran a modified version of the route for the Last Run, something I'll try to do one more time pre-event. Even though I never aspired to have a running partner, I thoroughly enjoy running with Chrissy. It's awesome. I've relented a little on my no-talking-while-running-stance and today we were talking about another woman runner, and I described her as a "serious runner." Chrissy looked at me and said "Like you. You're a serious runner." Gulp. That one was harder to swallow than the writer tag. Maybe because running is newer, (I've been blogging here for almost 2 years!!) I'm not yet accustomed to belonging in this runner lifestyle. You know me, I've embraced being illegitimate - it's what I know. Smile.

In the car on the drive home, Chrissy and I talked about living in the moment as the ultimate expression of peace and balance. Recognizing different parts of one's self is an acknowledgement of who we are right now and, knowing who one is, is always worth the price of admission.

Fits and starts and finishes

2011-12-04T14:38:00.001-05:00

I was a little worried about December. The holiday stuff was firmly in hand - presents had been purchased, cards ordered, the boys had even selected the Christmas Eve menu (ham and a roasted chicken) and theme (festive party in the afternoon), but the first day was rough. Here's what happened after I went ahead and flipped the page on the calendar...

a 14 year old (not the one I birthed) asked me if it was my "time of the month."
there were discussions about personal bleaching and drugs in high school from which I could not look away despite the mental discomfort (ouch!) they caused. I had limited knowledge about one of those topics - care to guess which one?

Quinn's brand new $360 eyeglasses fell off of his face on the playground and were promptly picked up and thrown by a classmate, apparently into a black hole, never to be seen again. Sigh.

But, then...

Liam's appointment with his doctor proved that he has indeed grown by leaps and bounds. My skinny boy has gained 26 lbs in less than 10 months! Looks like he found my lost weight, huh? And it looks way better on him than it ever looked on me.
I picked up an extra shift at the Gastropub and saw an old friend I have been out of touch with for many years. And ate a terrific pizza - props to Dan McBain for his skills.

Saturday I went to the Crossings to run a 5k and had a couple of delightful surprises. The first was the presence of an unexpected fan at the start line whose pre-race hug provided warmth and inspiration for 3.12 miles. So far. I truly expect these feelings to last much longer. As I finished the race with my usual final kick, I overtook the woman I had been following for much of the last mile or so. When I checked out the printed results a short while later (personal best, 27:12, barely third in my age group!), I realized that my pacer was a childhood friend. Having two special friends, one from elementary school and one fairly new, present made the day, and the race, incredibly memorable for me.

Each day, each month, holds new promise and I find that the finish of one thing is just the beginning of something else. And despite fits, the starts and finishes often have a way of making me smile.

Thankful for November

2011-12-03T19:35:00.001-05:00

While the 11th month of the year contains merely a single day for us to officially express our thanks, I feel compelled to acknowledge my appreciation for the past 30 days. What an amazing month November was! The warmer than usual weather provided the perfect backdrop to 30 days of fun and productivity - one of my favorite couplings.

I don't know how I neglected to devote an entire post to the best (it beat out the Sausage Fest by a ~~link~~ nose) party of the year - my brother, Tommy's, Big Bourbon Birthday Bash celebrated 11/10-11/13 in Syracuse. Yes, it really took nearly 3 days to celebrate a non-milestone birthday! His actual birthday is 11/11 so you can think of it as 1 day of festivities per 11 in the date. Or simply think of it as a slightly selfish, valiant attempt at reliving our youth - with the benefit of disposable income.

There's the gang - ALL these years later...

The theme of indulgence was definitely present with the trail runs I took this past month - Saratoga State Park, Albany Muni, Colonie's Crossings - no hilly path was exempt from my plodding feet. You know I love running, but this trail running thing is kind of like running with the random cartwheel thrown in to keep things interesting. Challenging and endorphin -inducing.

And, then there was Thanksgiving...my dinner with the boys was scheduled for the Saturday after the actual holiday and I think we had an excellent dinner. The food was delish (don't you find this to be an easy meal to prepare?) and we shared our table with an appreciative friend - as the season demands. And those turkey-stuffing-cranberry-arugula-mayo sandwiches always make me wonder why I don't roast a turkey more often.

As the month drew to a close, I found it impossible to recall a better November. Ever. Friends, physical activity, food...all means to share love and honor life. This must be the reason Thanksgiving precedes the holidays that have come to represent a consumption of things, rather than a celebration of spirit.

Wrist Corsage

2011-12-01T06:55:00.001-05:00

I finally broke down and spent $30 on a strap thingy (obviously a technical term) to hold my iPhone when I run and, of course, I'm having a bit of buyer's remorse. So, in my inimitable style*, I'm asking some questions I probably should have asked sooner.

1. Can I turn off the phone function on an iPhone 4? I don't want to take calls, I'm just using an app (Runmeter) that I can't use on my antique iPod Shuffle or iPod Classic. It's about the app/music capability of the phone.

2. Where on your arm do you wear the strap? Bicep? I started with it there but it was totally awkward to look at when I wanted to skip a song or check my distance. I could definitely see myself stumbling or tripping while running on one of those trails I love. I eventually slid it down to my forearm area, but it wasn't ideal. Help!

3. Lastly, anyone else plan to run this Saturday in the Jingle Jog? How about the Santa Speedo Sprint? The Last Run?

* I have been acknowledged in the past for my sartorial style. ;)

Pinot Noir, Anyone?

2011-11-29T19:21:00.000-05:00

Block Nine – Caiden’s Vineyard Pinot Noir

Dynamic Duo

2011-11-28T06:00:00.000-05:00

No, I'm not talking about Batman and Robin. Nor am I referring to the deadly pairing of smart and pretty. What I'm talking about is the killer combination of stainless steel bowl and whisk, my ground zero for whipped cream, Hollandaise, roux and chocolate sauce.

How about you? What do you find yourself reaching for with an easy familiarity when you're working in your kitchen?

Paper White Project - Week 4

2011-11-27T10:15:00.000-05:00

We have fragrant blooms, people!! It was seriously crazy how quickly these bulbs provided gratification, but what would you expect in a November in which the temperature exceeded the average daily high for 21 of 27 days?

Bethlehem Turkey Trot

2011-11-27T08:00:00.001-05:00

We've already established that Thanksgiving can mean a lot of things to different people For some, the holiday tradition may include a physical activity to stimulate the appetite or to help eliminate some stress. There are a number of morning races in the region, but I opted for the Delmar version because it is fairly new and thus, not too crowded.

I got to bed pretty late Wednesday, after working more hours in a single day than I had cumulatively slept in the previous three nights. Surprisingly for me, I wasn't particularly nervous pre-race, no jitters at all other than the frequent peeing kind. Come on - that happens to you, too, right? I was in good spirits as the holiday dawned and was very comfortable as I started the run.

There wasn't official timing available but I borrowed a friend's watch and did some self-timing. The start was rough because of general bottle necking and the presence of many dogs and strollers. I'd estimate that the first 1/3 to 1/2 mile was mostly spent positioning myself at a comfortable pace. My first mile was a decent enough 9:17, my second was slightly quicker and then I forgot to time my third. I felt pretty in the zone, though. After running the golf course a couple of times a week recently, the flatness of this course was a real ~~lack of challenge~~ treat. My finish time was 27:30 which shaved 40 seconds off my last race time and previous personal best*.

The race was really fun and I completely enjoyed seeing former and current students, silly costumes, and turkey fryers at the ready in a number of front yards. There was typical enthusiastic Delmar support from spectators and I loved seeing the families and groups of friend running together. (Sorry, Donna! Next year we'll stick together or at least have a plan to meet, post-race.) Next up is the Jingle Jog at the Crossings in Colonie on Saturday, December 3rd. I'm looking for two more bib numbers before the end of the year which will make 2011, by far, my most productive year of running.

*sounds way less uptight than "personal record," don't you think?

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-24T13:27:00.005-05:00

Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday. I loved the smells that wafted through the house gently waking me with the promise of turkey, to be followed by pie. No two Thanksgivings were precisely the same, the faces around the table varied, but there was a familiar quality to the day - watching the parade while playing a board game, helping with dinner preparations by staying out of the way until it was time to set the table. There was always laughter and a sense of sharing that transcended a mere meal consumed simultaneously.

I feel sorry for Kristi Gustafson Barlette. Despite being one of the few people "who actually likes her family," she doesn't seem to get Thanksgiving. It isn't about the food being bland or the time of day it is being served. Or even what we're wearing. The significance of taking a day, (or a half day these days due to the commercialization of our national day of giving thanks), to pause and consider all of the gifts we receive, got lost somewhere on the way to her emotional in-box.

I don't mean to completely rag on KGB, but she does seem to court criticism and controversy in an apparent bid for attention and blog traffic. There were plenty of comments made on her post about this topic and many were in complete support of her younger, much taller Scrooge impersonation. As I ran a flat, suburban 5k this morning, I counted far more blessings than miles. I decided that what I really loved about Thanksgiving was that it reminded me of a second Sunday - a fat newspaper to leisurely read, more coffee, maybe something with bubbles scandalously early, cooking, football or music, people we love nearby...

I just finished having a late breakfast with my boys. This is the second year I've planned a Thanksgiving that did not include spending the entire day with the boys, or the extended family to which they will always belong. The fact that we ate bagels instead of a predictable mix of white and dark meat had no bearing on the value of our time spent together.

After a meal shared with my children, a meal when Liam sang, with tears welled up in his eyes, a beautiful version of a hymn he learned attending church with his grandmother, Griffin shared stories of himself - a 7th grader straddling the intersection of boy and young man, and Quinn shared his bagel and his last piece of pear, Thanksgiving remains my favorite holiday of the year.

As easy as...

2011-11-21T06:49:00.001-05:00

Apple pie! There was a pattern to my cooking in recent days, a sort of pre-Thanksgiving emptying of the refrigerator to make room for the groceries necessary to prepare a holiday meal. I had some buttermilk I needed to use up, so fried chicken and pancakes made the weekend menu. My cheese drawer was crammed with odd bits of Gorgonzola, ricotta salada and sharp cheddar, a situation which begged for mac n cheese. And there was a collection of miscellaneous apples becoming sadder looking by the moment - perfect apple pie fodder.

I've stocked up recently on chocolate chips and pie crusts, two items that allow me to easily put together a quick dessert be it cookies, brownies, a tart or pie. I know that making pie crust (like pizza dough) is more time consuming than difficult, but I find myself much more willing to take on the task of baking with a little head start.

For Saturday's pie, I laid the bottom crust into a deep pie dish and got busy peeling and slicing a variety of apples - Empires, Macintosh, and Delicious, primarily. I was feeling kind of cocky (that's how I get after a long run. Blame it on the endorphins.) and didn't measure anything, there were about 8 apples, perhaps a 1/3 cup of brown sugar, a 1/4 cup of white sugar, a 1/4 cup of unbleached flour, and a 1 teaspoon of cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg and a shake or two of ginger powder. I tossed all that together and then rather unceremoniously dumped it into the crust. The top crust was added and I did my best to seal the edges and crimp in a modestly decorative manner. I sliced a coupe of slits in the top to release steam and placed my rustic, beautiful pie in a 375 degree oven, placing a baking sheet on the rack below the pie's rack. I've finally learned my lesson about things bubbling over and making an awful mess (and smoke) when the drips hit the bottom of the oven. The pie took longer to bake than I expected, maybe 65-70 minutes. Maybe next time I'll use the super cool convection feature which I know nothing about.

The pie cooled a bit while we feasted on fried chicken and mac n cheese. Topped with French vanilla ice cream it was a tasty way to get both a fruit serving and a dairy serving into dessert. Wait - I'm not the only one who considers pie to be a fruit serving, am I? If that thought process is wrong...well, I simply don't care to be right.

Black Forest Bastards

2011-11-20T11:25:00.001-05:00

Decisions, decisions...

No, I'm not talking about my brother and myself - I'm referring to the cakes I made recently. Last weekend I spent some time with a group of very old friends celebrating my brother's birthday on the fantastic date of 11/11/11. The birthday boy has a large, comfortable home and a liquor cabinet which speaks of his fondness for bourbon and dark rums. He also has a hot tub, which came in handy both after the hilly runs I took with our friend James, and in the evening after one of our delicious group effort meals.

My one (semi)homemade contribution to the weekend's menu was my brother's birthday cake. When we were children, our mother would accept requests for special dinners and cakes on our birthdays and my brother always seemed to choose Black Forest Cherry Cake aka Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte. Although I must have seen her bake this cake a dozen times over the years, I had no interest in duplicating her steps precisely, a statement which can be used to summarize our entire relationship, incidentally. But, I digress...

Over at Vinoteca, I pretty much gave the directions to replicate this Meder family recipe. The most important things are the Kirschwasser and the cherries. And being with people you love.

Paper White Project - Week 3

2011-11-20T08:27:00.000-05:00

Holy growth spurt!

These paper whites are growing faster than Liam - and that's saying something! As the mom to a boy who has shot up from a size 12 to a size 20 in the last 15 months, I recognize crazy growth when I see it. and these bulbs are definitely giving that teenaged boy of mine a run for the money.

There's still time for you to get on board the paper white train in time for Christmas - or Hanukkah for that matter. Aren't they the same time this year?

Inspired by this post, I stopped at Hewitt's yesterday and sprang for a gigantic amaryllis bulb, which I promptly stuck in a pot of soil. It was a bit of a splurge (sale price $11.99) but I can't wait to see the gorgeous white flowers in my boudoir. I'll keep you posted on the progress of that project as soon as something starts happening. From what I've read, they're a little slower to get going but the payoff should be spectacular. What a treat - fresh flowers in winter!

Cherry Water

2011-11-19T08:30:00.000-05:00

Check out my latest post on Vinoteca!
Cherry Water

Cheesecake Machismo

2011-11-17T06:58:00.003-05:00

Are words even required?

A couple of months ago (where does the time go?!?), I attended a fundraiser at LaSerre for the Starlight Children's Foundation and succesfully bid on a couple of items in the silent auction. For some ridiculously inexpensive price, I scored a basket, donated by Cheesecake Machismo, which contained a pound of coffee ("Make your own damn coffee") and a gift certificate for a Frankencake, their name for a cake comprised of 12 individual slices selected from the daily offerings. I'd been waiting for the perfect occasion to cash in and last week's epic party in Syracuse proved to be the ideal opportunity.

I checked out their Facebook page, saw the day's options and called ahead to have my order ready. Although one of my personal favorite flavors, Chocolate-Chipotle was not available, I think everyone at the party would agree that what I ultimately selected was exactly what we needed to complete our night. The flavors I chose, in clockwise order beginning at 12 o'clock, were:

caramel pumpkin
wild blueberry
cookies and creme
caramel brownie
raspberry Lucille
tiger stripes (Kahlua and caramel)

It would be impossible to say which was the favorite, but I assure you, all were gleefully consumed. This place is a gem.

Drug of choice

2011-11-14T16:15:00.001-05:00

I can't remember a more beautiful early November than we're currently experiencing. It almost makes up for the muted foliage season and the need to crank on the furnace in October to offset the chill from our premature snow event. Something happened to me this month, just like I've always feared since high school health class when I learned that one could become addicted to heroin with just one use. I've found my heroin in cross country running.

Now, granted, once upon a time, I knew I was born to be a gymnast, however I started lessons way too late to ever be competitive, so I competed against myself. Maybe that's when I became a non-team player. I remember one summer in particular, I practiced for hours with my friend, Brenda, in her cement basement cushioned with old mattresses, as she worked to perfect her side aerial and me my back handspring. I kind of lost my passion after an unrelated injury forced me to take some time off. There was an extended period of time when my feats were more social and academic than traditionally physical endeavors, which means I was too busy having a different type of fun to exercise with any real commitment. And then the babies came, which was an entirely different and engrossing physical experience, of course, leaving no room (or energy) for recreational physical pursuits. It was about mere survival some of those days.

I stepped back into the exercise world when the boys were in primary school, beginning with yoga. When I left my first class I remember declaring "I've found my sport!" I immediately loved it, the combination of physical stretching and mental quieting was just what I needed. Ultimately I learned that it really was all about the instructor and just couldn't work a class I loved regularly into my schedule. And honestly, I need to exercise more than once or twice a week and would find myself easily bored with yoga. I needed something more demanding. Spinning class met the requirement for physically challenging, but again it was about the instructor and their music and I needed more flexibility in my schedule - plus I hated the competitiveness necessary to get a bike. And I got bored.

The only things that really held my attention, and that I could do on my own schedule, were cross country skiing and cycling. While totally dependent upon the weather and season, these two activities provided everything I seemingly wanted in a ~~drug~~ exercise - I could go solo or with friends, there were both local and more distant places to pursue these interests, I could literally do either on a moment's notice, modifying my route to accommodate time available and challenge desired. And I could ~~party~~ exercise outdoors - something I found increasingly more appealing as I began to acquire the clothing and gear that allowed me to play outside and remain comfortably warm.

But, now there's something new in my world - an activity I never expected to like, much less fall in love with. Running cross country has changed my world. Perhaps my passion is a natural progression on the path of health and well being I've been increasingly drawn to you as I age. Which is ironic in a way because when I'm trotting along a wooded path in a park or golf course, I feel very much as if I'm revisiting my childhood. The sensation of being outdoors, observing and absorbing the world around me while pushing my body to keep going, is amazingly invigorating and stimulating. Like speed with a slightly different, less erratic heart race.

I'm never going to run a marathon, unless running 26 miles is 6 times more fun than running 4.5 miles, and I'm perfectly okay with that. The pure joy (now I get it, Lucinda!!) I get from running solo, or in the company of a friend, allows me the opportunity to continue my lifelong quest to enjoy moderation in all things. Anybody want to come along and score some endorphins?

Crazy good cookies

2011-11-14T06:53:00.001-05:00

I realized recently that I have a glut in my quick oats. What is that, you ask? It means I really didn't need to buy those 2 canisters of oats seeing as how I already had a nearly full canister. Must be time to bake cookies!

There is a recipe under the lid of the Quaker quick oats called "~~Disappearing~~ Vanishing Oatmeal Cookies." It is a simple recipe and goes together quickly leaving plenty of time for creative embellishments. Yesterday I opted to toss in about a cup of butterscotch chips along with a mixture of craisins and yellow raisins, probably about a generous cup. I make big cookies (hey, if you're only having 2...) and I baked these about 12 or 13 minutes. The last batch I left in a little longer and they turned out more crunchy, not a compliment or a criticism, just an observation. Bottom line - easy, delicious and fairly low fat, I imagine. There's only a single stick of butter used, which seems reasonably healthy, to me, especially when you factor in the three cups of oats. You should make these.

Paper White Project - Week 2

2011-11-13T12:13:00.000-05:00

One week later

Buttermilk Fried Chicken

2011-11-11T11:05:00.000-05:00

I may not look like I've got soul, but believe me, I am an appreciative fan of both the music and the cuisine. I particularly love the side dishes - okra and greens and beans, all cooked in a fryer or with a generous hunk of pork fat, naturally. Of course, eating this kind of heart challenging diet isn't something I often do, but, my boys are young and healthy and I believe in indulging children in cleanly made treats on occasion. Things like home baked cookies, Meadowbrook Farms eggnog and bacon from my favorite butcher shop, Falvo's.

Making this boy favorite meal is so easy that the most effective way to maintain its status as "special" is to make it with great infrequency. 2 or 3 times a year - tops. I cluster the occasions so I can reuse the oil and I try to coincide the festivities with an event that gets me out of the house for a day after the extended frying frenzy. I have convinced myself that the smell of fried foods nauseates me.

I initially made fried chicken when I found myself with leftover buttermilk after some baking adventure. Maybe scones? When I googled to get some ideas as to how to use the remainder of the .5 quart of buttermilk, my results leaned heavily to fried chicken. What follows is not a recipe, just what I do. Adapt to your own tastes, or like me, be a slave to your children's palates and go simple. Place chicken pieces (I like bone-in thighs) in a bowl and cover with buttermilk. Allow to soak in fridge for 12 hours to two days. Remove chicken from milk and drain on a baking rack over a baking sheet for 10 minutes or so. Heat up vegetable oil in a deep pot. Put some flour, salt, pepper and a couple of sprinkles of corn meal to add some crunch, together on a plate. White pepper and some paprika would be nice here, but the boys are still in a muted stage flavor-wise. It's ok, they're a bit of a longterm project.

Dredge the drained chicken in the flour mixture, taking your time to make sure the chicken is evenly and thoroughly coated. Test temperature of oil. I usually drip a drop or two of water in. You don't want spatter, just sizzle. Scientific, right? I cook the chicken, a few pieces at a time. Don't crowd the chicken! TUrn the chicken after about 10 minutes and cook for an additional 10 or 15 minutes. Since I'm cooking in batches, I usually place the chicken, on a baking sheet layered with a brown paper bag topped by paper towels, in a 200 degree oven to keep warm. Once that chicken comes out of the oven, beautifully brown, crunchy and glistening lips inducing, believe me, keeping it warm isn't an issue.

Shower of filth

2011-11-10T06:56:00.001-05:00

I have been sick to my stomach since yesterday morning when I read Maureen Dowd's column about the Penn State child sexual abuse cases. She deftly wove a child's perspective throughout the paragraphs and, at one point, I literally threw the newspaper down because I was so distressed by the explicit description of one of the incidences of rape. Yes, rape. I'm sure you're aware that there was an eye witness to one of the crimes. After hearing and then investigating the source of a repeated "slapping" noise, a 28 year-old coaching assistant witnessed a ten year-old boy being subjected to anal intercourse in the shower. His response? He walked away.

Now, imagine that ten-year old boy is you (or one of your three sons). Put a face on that child and consider for a moment that maybe, even with the noises being emitted by the running water and the disgusting old man who is raping you, he managed to hear the witness to this crime as he approached the horror scene. Now, accept the fact that your could be hero, savior, walked away and left you to be brutalized by a pedophile.

There isn't enough water in all the world's showers to wash away the filth that was knowingly present in Penn State's football program. Perhaps those supporters of the program, and their rightfully shamed head coach, should consider who the innocent victims were in this situation and riot on behalf of the children whose only crime was being involved with an organization designed to provide them with "help and hope."

Getting all Natty Bumppo

2011-11-07T15:00:00.003-05:00

Although I was wearing Lycra instead of deer skin, and had no intention of hunting, that was one of the mental images I had yesterday while I was running through the woods on my maiden trail run. Another internal movie clip involved my being in a Black-Eyed Peas video, but I digress...

Have you ever gone trail running?! Or perhaps I should qualify that question by asking if you've run on a trail in the woods post-age 10 or 12, not including running away from the police while partying on the horse trails, Laker friends. I'm sure it is a natural progression to move from playing in the woods to hanging out with friends indoors, but I am firmly convinced it is time to take it back outside, people. The complete joy of running on pine needles in the dappled light of Saratoga State Park has made a believer out of me. Give me more, please!

When I got the invite to join a friend for one of these "trail runs," I was hesitant. I don't run with a partner or group - I'm more a lone wolf sort of runner. I don't want to be responsible for maintaining a conversation or pace, choosing instead to let my little iPod shuffle dictate my speed. I'm also kind of a freak about knowing how far I've run - 3 miles? 4? 4+? I very much allow distance markers and, in the city, counting traffic lights, to inspire me to continue running when my body is more inclined to slow down. But, the weather forecast and the enjoyment I always get when I hang out with Chrissy, prompted me to agree to give it a try, with the understanding that I didn't plan to run and talk simultaneously. Ground rules in place, we hit the ground...running

post run endorphin high

Despite our not always knowing where we were going and being completely ignorant of distance covered, I can say with absolute conviction that it was one of my favorite runs ever. Chrissy and I are well suited running buddies and we wordlessly pushed each other to run farther and faster and up and down some really fun hills. There was some conversation and plenty of blissful sighs, as well. It was an amazing way to spend a couple of hours and I'm already looking for other places where I can get off the pavement and into the grass. Any suggestions?

Built

2011-11-06T20:59:00.002-05:00


who doesn't love a luminaria?

For the second year in a row, I volunteered to pour wine last night at the Historic Albany Foundation's annual event, Built. This silent auction and art exhibit highlights the use of vacant buildings in Albany and is a wonderful fundraiser, as well as being a really fun night. Mark Brogna, from Capital Wine and Spirits who donates the evening's wine offerings, originally roped me in last year and I enjoyed myself so much that I asked him this year if I could participate again. The attendees are seriously the nicest group of people I've ever taken care of - "What, no more Pinot Noir? Ok, I'll have Merlot!" I'm talking mellow and happy and appreciative. And, did I mention artfully dressed?

This year's festivities were held at the Cathedral of All Saints. Despite my having spent my first 2 years living in Albany less than a block from this magnificent edifice (if I gush a little it's just to make up for neglecting to give this building its due respect previously), I am sheepishly confessing to never having been inside it prior to last night. The cathedral is absolutely stunning and I think it is the ideal location for this event - can't wait til next year! My awesome neighbors, Lori Hansen and Ken Ragsdale were honored (along with Mark Brogna and John McLennan) for their contributions to Built over the last 10 years, which made the night that much more special. Way to represent the DelSo! The food, rumored to have been catered by the Lily and the Rose (confirmation, anyone?) looked terrific and the brownie I indulged in met my criteria, which is - it must be able to be stuck back together in chocolate gooeyness.

A highlight for me, in addition to having some fun taking these pictures for the Times Union's SEEN gallery and the generous number of compliments I received on my vintage dress, was finding myself within a circle (natch) of women described by Lori Hansen as being "powerful women." A year ago, I felt very much like an awed witness to the contributions made by fantastic local women like Lori, Laura and Elissa, among countless others. I am kind of amazed that a year later, I have been included in the same sentence as these ladies. Built? Yeah, I'd say I'm very much enjoying this life under construction.

Watch this pot!

2011-11-05T14:52:00.001-04:00

6 bulbs, some soil, a cool pot

I can only imagine where some of you thought this was going...

It's that time of the year, folks - get your paper whites planted and look forward to the most satisfying, least expensive holiday decoration ever. Last week, on my way home from skiing, I picked up 6 bulbs at Hewitt's, total cost: $7.62. I popped the bulbs into a pot of soil this morning and expect to see beautiful flowers in about 6 weeks. Not to get all Martha Stewart-y on you all, but, this is a perfect hostess gift for holiday parties.

a specimen from last year

I will try to remember to give you weekly updates so you, too, can witness the miracle of life and all that. Trust me, a watched pot never provided so much beautiful entertainment.

The Sound of Silence

2011-11-04T18:09:00.000-04:00

My little corner of the DelSo is fairly quiet. The street I live on doesn't "feed" directly out to Delaware and the previously popular cut through to avoid the light on the corner of Whitehall and Delaware, was cut off prior to my moving into the neighborhood. Occasionally, there's some noise made when someone hosts a party (sorry!) but generally things are pretty tranquil in our little piece of heaven. Except, for in the summer, of course, when windows are thrown wide open. Then we hear the constant drone of traffic on the thruway.

My street is a couple of blocks from 87 and the sounds I generally hear are more a hum than a roar. I imagine living closer, though, might be a different story. I don't know if it is similar to living across the street from a firehouse, something my family did for a year when I was in elementary school. I recall becoming so used to the sounds of sirens and trucks that I no longer registered them as an interruption. Probably not ideal in case of emergency, right?

BIG crane!

Anyway, there's been some activity on the thruway for the past couple of months. I initially assumed an additional lane was being built (which may still be in the cards) but it looks like it's going to sound a little different here in the DelSo..

Another lane?

...because we're getting these cool sound muffling walls. I think they look pretty good and I hope, for the sake of my neighbors who live ever so close to that busy road, that they sound even better. It will be interesting to see what things sound like next summer. And, let's hope these walls remain untagged, or at least graffitied by someone other than a Lilly boy and with some artistic talent.

Burrito!

2011-11-02T06:21:00.000-04:00

I had my first taste of Mexican style cuisine at a sleep over birthday party in 6th grade. I can still remember how taken I was with those tacos - crunchy, meaty, cheesy tacos so delicious that the shredded iceberg lettuce and insipid tomatoes couldn't get in the way of my enjoyment. I swear I ate 4 tacos that night and my culinary world was never the same. Since that time, I've both expanded (Fish tacos! Nachos for dinner!) and honed (chiles in adobo make almost everything better) my palate and continue to be smitten by the flavors of Mexican food, authentic or not. The other day as I cut trail through 14+ inches of snow, I was inspired by thoughts of a quiet solo dinner at home - chicken burritos, specifically. Here's what I did:

I had two baked chicken thighs (bone in) hanging out in the fridge. I took the meat off the bone and basically ripped it into shreds and tossed it into a can of semi-drained black beans. I added some cumin, salt and two chopped chipotle chiles along with about a teaspoon of the adobo sauce the chipotles were packed in. As this heated through, I warmed two tortillas and gathered some vegetables in the form of a half avocado, sliced, and some baby spinach. I built a gorgeous mound of the green veggies, the beans and chicken and then finished with a dollop of salsa and a bit of shredded cheese. My plan was to eat two of these bad boys, but when I paused after wolfing one down, I realized I was quite full already. I was a little bummed that my capacity was so limited, but since I'm not a fan of that over-stuffed feeling, I was pleased that I knew when to stop and that there would be another yummy burrito meal to look forward to.

Mother Nature’s trick = my treat

2011-10-31T08:23:00.000-04:00

Mother Nature’s trick = my treat

Occupying a place in my heart

2011-10-30T20:30:00.001-04:00

I'm a bad Capitalist. I have no urge to accumulate possessions or wealth, I only aspire to pay my way fairly through life. I am always able to see that someone needs something more than I do - that $3 that rounds the tip up to a nice even number which doesn't require change, those extra few bucks in my checking account that the Regional Food Bank could use since my pantry is more than sufficiently stocked. It isn't as if I believe people shouldn't have to work or that it is unreasonable to expect adults to make a contribution to society, particularly when they are able-bodied and healthy, it's just that I can see that I have more (fortune, opportunity, smarts, survival skills - you pick) than many others and I'm good with sharing. And I will never understand why anyone feels the need to have a net worth of X billions of dollars.

Do you think that being a multimillionaire somehow provides a person with a more meaningful existence? Are their thoughts really worth more than mine (Warren Buffet aside)? Are they happier and more fulfilled? I don't think so.

Should the president of my union being making $345,987?? I don't think so. Does the fact that he is, make me sick to my stomach? Absolutely. Is his position comparable to that of President of the United States, who receives a salary of $400,000. Yes, yes, I know there are numerous factors beyond mere salary when it comes to compensation, but, really? I don't think the job descriptions or responsibilities are all that similar between those two positions.

This morning I made my second visit down to the tent city known as Occupy Albany. I arrived with 2 loaves of freshly baked bread and a sense of guilt that I was not doing more to support a movement that proves that residents of my country are not afraid of making people, including themselves, uncomfortable when it comes to examining the deterioration of our country's values and sense of priorities. I left with regret that I can't do more to support their activities other than bake bread, take some photos and publicly acknowledge their efforts. What can you do? And - what should we all do?

Pumpkin Pie ice cream

2011-10-29T15:19:00.000-04:00

On what may have been one of the last open sunroof afternoons of fall 2011, I decided to indulge in a new-to-me flavor of ice cream - Stewart's Pumpkin Pie. I've always been more a lemon meringue pie kind of lady, but, since I haven't stumbled across a similarly flavored ice cream, I decided to give the pumpkin pie a shot. And...it was pretty darn good! There were nice bits of graham cracker and a tasty nutmeg-gy spiciness to it. I won't hesitate to get this flavor again and would definitely consider it to be a treat as a milkshake. Hmmm...that sounds pretty good. Gotta go!

Love muscle

2011-10-28T05:58:00.000-04:00

image from dkimages

As an admitted exercise junkie, I've done some casual reading about physiology. From what I understand, to build muscle one has to first sort of tear it apart a bit by straining the tissue. Maybe that's the "burn" thing Jane Fonda talked about so many years ago. It seems that when the muscle fibers are ripped or torn they ultimately grow back together stronger than ever. Do you think the same can be said of romantic relationships?

Now, you know I love to push myself physically and I know that some of my friends think I may be a tad too stringent about my exercise schedule. I'll admit that there is a certain obsessive quality to my workout regimen, but ultimately I love the satisfaction of knowing that my body and my mind are working in concert to achieve something that may have once been unreachable. I honestly like that feeling of having exhausted my muscles, the tenderness that comes as a reminder of the previous day's exertions. It feels good.

The emotional stretch, though? The sensation of having been pulled apart and put back together? That really hurts. I won't ever say it isn't worth the efforts expended, and I certainly can accept the residual ache caused by a misunderstanding or disagreement, but I much prefer self inflicted physical discomfort to overwrought emotions. Ultimately, though, I believe that our muscles are remarkably capable of being woven back together, thread by thread, to create something stronger than what we originally possessed.

I don't plan for any of my muscles to atrophy from lack of use.

Sausage & Peppers

2011-10-26T06:34:00.000-04:00

sausage

Recently I saw a brand of Italian style chicken sausage at my local Price Chopper - Lupo's from Endicott, NY. What initially attracted my attention was the sticker on the package stating that they were msg, whey and gluten free. Now, I've never had an issue with any of those ingredients, but, I figured in most cases with sausage, less is more. I picked up both available varieties - hot and sweet.

Over the weekend I was looking for some easy comfort food and remembered the sausages in my freezer. A quick thaw and some time on the grill and I ended up with some lovely, pleasantly spicy links.

peppers

There were a couple of beautiful red peppers in my crisper so I sliced them. They went into some olive oil, along with a jumbo sweet onion and a couple of cloves of garlic, and cooked until they were tender and ever so sweet - the perfect counterpart for the hot sausage.

You know how sausage can sometimes be a little dry? These were not dry at all! They had a good snap to them, the casings were firm enough to hold the juicy goodness inside yet easily yielded to a knife - and my teeth. I placed the sausage and peppers on a soft poppy seed roll and had the perfect quick dinner. I like to think it was fairly nutritious, as far as these things go and it was unquestionably delicious.

sausage and peppers!

Table Hopping for 5 years

2011-10-24T08:41:00.000-04:00

Table Hopping for 5 years

Scariest things at Fright Fest

2011-10-23T13:19:00.000-04:00

Yesterday afternoon the boys and I headed up to the Great Escape's Fright Fest in an attempt to get into the spirit of Halloween. We had been persuaded to buy season's passes for 2012 by what seemed to be a pretty good deal - $49.95 per person with free parking for the year along with admission to Fright Fest. I figured if we made it there twice it would be worth the cost. I guess I still feel that way after our experience yesterday, but, I definitely have doubts about how many more times we'll visit this place beyond next season. Let me share with you the most frightening aspects of our time at the park. Regrettably, I did not snap a photo of the most horrific thing I saw: a milkshake at the Ben & Jerry's concession was $7.99!!! Yes, a single penny less than 8 dollars for a milkshake. Now, that is some frightening stuff. And I saw people who looked they could neither afford the expense nor the calories seemingly happily sucking them down. How scary is that?

Really, really long lines.

Are these deceased employees or park guests who waited too long for a ride?

Little Lillys on rollercoaster*

*The Comet wasn't running nor was the Bobsled ride. Not a lot of options.

Performances which were impossible to see due to lack of a stage or crowd management.

Boys not getting everything they wanted!

The thought of G driving in a mere 4 years.

The Ferris wheel rotating with only 4 of the 20 cars filled

Banana-chocolate chunk muffins

2011-10-22T12:11:00.001-04:00

In my continuing quest to avoid turning on the heat, I become a prolific baker. There's nothing, other than a fired up furnace, that warms up a home faster than the smell of baked goods or roasting meats or veggies. Since my children are dismal failures when it comes to eating the bananas I buy with such optimism, I generally end up tossing them into the freezer for later use in baked goods or indulging them with fruit smoothies. Drink that banana, suckers.

image from: eftekasat.net

This morning I was looking to cozy up the house and lift the gray cloud that has taken up residence over my head in recent days. Between the fragrant aroma wafting throughout my home and the happiness with which the boys greeted the fruits of my labors, I'd say mission accomplished.

image from: centsncentsibility.com

I have a couple of different recipes I depend upon to use up bananas seeing as how "I'm not your little monkey anymore," Quinn Lilly, is no longer a reliable source for banana consumption. Today's came from Epicurious and was easy as...muffins. I've been using Nestle's dark chocolate chunks recently and I love the larger, darker hunks of chocolate in pretty much everything I bake. I've not seen them at Price Chopper but Hannaford in Delmar has them. They taste pretty good right out of the bag.

Productivity

2011-10-20T06:05:00.001-04:00

photo from gearfire.net

What does it mean to you to be productive? It seems there are stages of productivity in life. My thirties were literally about producing babies and breast milk, in retrospect. I literally opened year 30 pregnant and was still nursing the little guy on my 40th birthday. I could show you the picture to prove it - holy D cup! The beginning of my 40s was transitional for me, but in a more private way than things now present themselves. I was beginning to produce some writing and photos that brought me pleasure, but there was nothing that I was prepared to share except on the smallest, most personal level. You know, like in a Christmas card or with immediate family. Certainly not out here in the virtual world of blogging.

And now? Now I feel myself being productive in an entirely new way, both public and intensely private. It's almost like what I'm producing is love, amor, agape, liebe and it is coming out of me in so many uncontainable ways. Always, words, words, words, but there's more than that. I have plants that are positively thriving under my attentions. It's like magic or kismet or the damnedest good karma. I can barely recall the day when I forced a decision with the boys' Dad: "The plants or the kids? I can't keep them all alive. Pick." But, somehow now I've got a good touch with my plants and I'm no longer afraid to accept the responsibility of taking care of them. A really, really good touch and that mostly dead fern my friend, Lisa, gave me last year is absolutely beautiful. I've never done anything but kill ferns in the past - in record time, as a matter of fact. My boys are doing great, physically, emotionally and academically, and I'm enjoying them immensely. There's been a marked expansion in my capacity to nurture, and no longer is there the question as to what has to give because I feel like I have so very much to give. And wouldn't you consider nurturing a type of productivity?

Over the weekend I thoroughly cleaned my house, prepared a delicious dinner of risotto and baked cookies. Despite opportunities to socialize and share a meal with friends in the DelSo, I opted to sit on my couch in my tidy home and enjoy the satisfaction of being alone and pleasantly tired. The efforts I invested over the course of my bonafide two day weekend paid off in aces for me, and I thoroughly appreciated the results of my work in the form of a bowl of greens and risotto with a glass of wine, followed by cookies and milk. Productivity looks and tastes pretty damn good.

Q(uinn's) V(ery) C(ute) Shopping

2011-10-17T15:49:00.001-04:00

What a delightful day! This was truly one of those days as a parent that you hold on to as evidence that it is all worthwhile. Those of you with children know what I mean. Yes, yes, children are wonderful and they allow you to see the world again with new eyes and it is amazing to truly understand that they are little sponges designed to absorb whatever we saturate them with, blah, blah, blah. We could discuss this ad nausea, but there will always be more to debate, I suppose. This posting, however, is about the joys of parenting, an occasion rare enough to demand appropriate recognition.

You know how I love to take one Lilly boy and disappear for a few hours or days? Saturday was Quinn's turn. Despite Liam's disbelief that Q could ever possibly need new clothing ("Doesn't he have hand-me-downs?"), it was time to get the little man some new duds. We headed to Crossgates, listening to the perfect pre-shopping Stones' song: "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Quinn was an awesome co-shopper, he carried bags, he worked within the parameters I had in place, he made me laugh. I have to say, he indulged me just such as I indulged him. He was patient with my wanderings and didn't balk when the line at Starbucks was ridiculously long. We left the mall happy campers, a refreshing change from past shopping expeditions.

After I got all the loot out of the car at our house, and got another load of laundry going, I surveyed the boys about dinner requests. I almost caved and did takeout, but G had a great idea - make your own pizzas. Perfect. I added pizza dough, pizza sauce, some mozzarella and pepperoni to the grocery list and headed out.

Griffin's pizza - with fresh basil! Pre-grilling.

Dinner was a joy. Parents - how often do you get to say that and mean it? I did the dough stretching and shaping, laying the irregularly shaped crusts on an oiled baking sheet. The guys did their thing with toppings and we cooked the 'zas on the gas grill over medium heat. Griffin was an integral part of the process, manning the grill and generally providing assistance. I opened a bottle of winter house red, sighed with parental happiness, and dug in with my boys. A perfect Saturday. How was your weekend?

Acorn squash

2011-10-16T13:00:00.001-04:00

Why, oh, why did I not eat beautiful orange vegetables (other than carrots) when I was a child? These days not much makes me happier than a pan of sweet potatoes, butternut squash and my favorite, acorn squash, roasting together in the oven and so I say, "Welcome back squash! I've missed you."

I'm sure there are a million ways to cook these hard shelled squashes but I usually do the a variation on the same theme: squash + something sweet + fat + spice. My something sweet is generally either brown sugar or maple syrup, but this batch ended up with something a little different. See that picture of the amber-colored rock candy-ish stuff? Well that's what you may find, if you're lucky, at the bottom of your maple syrup container. I knew there would be a use for it one day and this was its day to shine! If you aren't fortunate enough to have maple "glass," I'm positive that maple syrup would work just as well, it just wouldn't add moisture and flavor simultaneously.

Cut the squash through the middle and scoop out seeds and gook. (Compost!) Trim the top/bottom of your halves in necessary to allow them to "sit" without wobbling. Add some maple syrup or brown sugar, maybe 1.5 T per side, a dab of butter and some nutmeg, clove or cinnamon - or all of the above. Bake at 375 degrees until the squash is soft but not caving in on itself. Maybe 35-45 minutes depending on size - size can be a real factor sometimes. If you're in a rush, place squash, cut side down in a shallow glass plan with about an inch of water and place in the microwave on high for about 10 minutes. Finish in the oven for another 10 to 15 minutes. Cut into wedges and serve, or eat the whole thing yourself.

An aside: when Liam was a baby his nose was orange because of all of the yellow/orange vegetables he ate. Does Mayor Jennings perhaps eat a lot of squash?!?

Obviously, this shouldn't be considered a recipe so much as a reminder that the seasons are changing and so should your meals. Although the transition from bright red tomatoes to orange squash and darker greens comes with some regrets (I should have eaten more blts!), it is inevitable and should be embraced. And, bonus - oven roasting also serves as the perfect delaying tactic to turning on the furnace for the season! Delicious + money-saving = winner.

Schweddy balls v. Sweaty sheets

2011-10-12T15:43:00.000-04:00

image from: tv.popcrunch.com

Apparently this hip new flavor of Ben & Jerry's is a seasonal item, here today and perhaps gone tomorrow. I hope I can say the same is true for these crazy night sweats I've been getting. I suppose I've been having them for months, maybe even longer. They seem to be my most frequent night visitor, surpassing Quinn by a nose. Or maybe a fluid ounce. I have not, however, broached this topic in daylight before now. Prepare yourselves...

It seems that it is acceptable to talk about Schweddy balls publicly, but not sweaty sheets. I'm willing to take one for the team here, ladies, and admit to experiencing this delightful symptom of advancing age. I wish I could remember the first time it happened... At the time I probably I discounted it as the result of too much wine, or lack of fresh air flow, or maybe even the soft flannel sheets. So, last night there was nary a drop of wine in my blood stream, the window was generously cracked open and my sheets were crisp cotton and guess what? I awoke absolutely dripping wet. I'm talking drenched.

Since I'm all about dispelling fallacies and exposing truths, I thought I would share this little personal experience with you, DelSo readers. Who but me is going to tell you about the wonders of perimenopause? The joys of parenting three boys who have poor aim? The magic of pharmaceuticals and surgery? And let's not forget general heartbreak and relationship implosion. Merde - maybe night sweats and menopause aren't so bad. At least there will be ice cream.

Land ahead, Columbus!

2011-10-10T16:30:00.001-04:00

I forget sometimes that I run for clarity - to be able to see better. Despite thoroughly enjoying my genuine two complete days off in a row, I was feeling punky today. Yes, precisely punky, I'd say. I was able to rationalize my funk as being the result of too much wine and not enough exercise over the holiday weekend, but there was something else. Something that made me feel off.

I watched a sweet but sad excuse for a romantic comedy and then forced myself to put some running clothes on and get on out there. I was barely .25 mile in when I realized without a doubt what was niggling around in my head...

Exactly one year ago this weekend, my neighbor, Ken Ragsdale drew a picture (is this the right word? is there a more correct artsy word I should know?) of the view of Arcadia Avenue looking out from his front porch. That perfect piece of his work now hangs in my house. And, Columbus Day 2010 was when I, too, began to gaze intently at a similar view but somehow my eyes went beyond Arcadia Avenue, and I began to see all kinds of things I hadn't before noticed. Or perhaps, even wanted to notice, would be a more accurate assessment. Ah, yes, the hindsight view.

The path from thinking "nothing will ever change," to living a life that is more vital than ever before, is disconcerting sometimes. Thank goodness for DelSo - it certainly eliminates having to explain a lot of things individually to people since it's all here!

There were layers and layers of emotion that were stripped away, some with a slow erosion, others with something more akin to the proverbial band-aid rip, and, happily, what remains is a true concern for one another and a sincere hope for all future happiness. No longer casting for stability and safety with one another, but instead discovering a future that involves explorations to different places. Happy trails ahead.

Allegrini Palazzo della Torre 2007

2011-10-08T09:04:00.003-04:00

Allegrini Palazzo della Torre 2007

An Albany evening

2011-10-08T01:37:00.001-04:00

Last weekend I enjoyed what may have been the ideal early autumn Sunday afternoon in Albany. And it didn't even involve football or chicken wings. Instead, I got to wear something pretty and see people I originally met a couple of decades ago when I first worked for Donna and Yono Purnomo. I've celebrated quite a few milestones over the years with Albany's first family of restaurateurs - there have been graduations and birthdays and weddings and other anniversaries, but this event was to mark 25 years of Yono's, the restaurant. And the Purnomo family knows how to entertain, be it professionally or personally, believe me.

Naturally, there was food and wine in tasteful excess, along with faces I haven't encountered in many years. I felt a wonderful sense of family, and was struck by how many of the guests present had born witness to my life, as I have to theirs. It was a lovely party and I hope there will always be a place for me on the Purnomo guest list. If not, no worries - I'll just crash the party!

After spending a couple of hours chatting and having my appetite piqued with Bakmi Goreng and Babi Kecap, I headed over to Capriccio's cozy bar to enjoy a more substantial meal. I very much am an "eating at the bar" kind of girl because it is just so damn convivial. This occasion was no exception to this life tenet and our party ebbed and flowed as we ~~took over~~ shared the bar with old, as well as new, friends.

When I got in my car to drive home I was thrilled to listen to Hello, Pretty City on 97.7 WEXT. My drive seemed far too short but I arrived back in the DelSo smiling at Laura's voice, and feeling utterly at home and grounded in Albany, NY. The afternoon may have begun as an acknowledgement of a milestone in the hospitality business but it concluded, for me, as a celebration of my adopted city. My professional and personal experiences with Donna and Yono over the past 20+ years are completely responsible for my introduction to Albany's finest restaurants. The kindness and consistent support I received from them provided the perfect foundation for me to expand my love for food, hospitality and the people who make both of those happen each day. It may have been Donna and Yono's silver anniversary which we were celebrating, but to me, they truly are worth more than gold.

The gift of nothing

2011-10-06T09:02:00.002-04:00

It seems to me that there are many people who remain in relationships or situations because they are hesitant to lose the security of what is known. Change is scary. Period. When I look around my home, I know I am incredibly fortunate that I didn't have to pack myself up and leave the place where I have lived longest ever. But, I think I could have.

If it had been necessary, I'm confident I would have been able to leave the house behind as I stepped towards the future. I know this because I spent my childhood packing and unpacking, as we moved from house to house sometimes improving our standard of living, sometimes not. The frequent moves (I recall 10 addresses by the time I was 12) left me with a firm belief that the stuff in the boxes was where the comforts of home came from, but the stuff that made me at home with myself came from some other internal space.

I spent some time recently with a very dear friend, someone I have known for more than 30 years. We were talking about finding happiness and contentment in a world often placated by stability and complacency. She spoke of her hesitation to change her circumstances because she was uncertain if she could sacrifice her home and the comforts she has grown accustomed to for an unknown future. Despite the possibility of gaining a deeper sense of personal joy and emotional fulfillment, the appeal of creature comforts and social acceptance was proving too formidable a leash to easily escape. Our conversation caused a genuine "aha" moment for me...

Growing up as I did, moving from town to town and school to school and house to house, taught me a lot. I know I can make a home wherever I am - for myself and my children. I am able to achieve a degree of comfort that is independent of what possessions I am surrounded by. Being raised with limited resources has made me capable of living with little. The gift of nothing may in fact have been the greatest thing my mother ever gave me.

Donut Picking

2011-10-03T16:15:00.000-04:00

Q: Why are donuts round?
A: So you can slip them on around your waist!

My friend, Emily once described these delicious treats as fried fat and sugar. Yep, pretty much sums things up. This past Saturday I devoted my morning to exploring the nuances of cider donuts as I (and my mini me, Quinn) joined the 2nd annual Tour de Donut organized by Daniel Berman of Fussy Little Blog fame. It was quite a sacrifice of sleep and a commitment of time, once you factor in the 3+ hours for eating, driving and socializing, as well as the amount of time it took me to run 4 miles post-donut binge. All worth it.

I will allow Daniel to sums things up in his inimitable style - he promises the post will be up this week and he seems to be quite a reliable sort. I'll just offer some photos from the day and my opinion on what was best, leaving, of course, knowing "what's good" to Daniel.

Ready to eat donuts. And ride a Harley.

Stop #1, 9 and 20, East Greenbush

Our first sample - nutmeggy

On the road to Goold's

100 years! This was our first time there.

Cinnamon-ny

Where I stopped on the way home...that's a hint.

I love the little imperfection - see the evidence of the donuts once being connected?

They bonded over an imaginary nuclear bomb - and sugar.

Goold's

Ah, glistening fat...

Samascott - curiously brown and whole grain-ish

And crumbly

Cutest logo

Cakiest donuts

Think pink - and positive

2011-10-03T07:01:00.000-04:00

www.pinkribbonshop.com

You know that PET scan I had the other day? Well, as with many things in life, there is good news and potentially ~~bad~~ not so good news. The area of my neck where tiny malignant things seem to like to grow is clear. No signs of any additional issues, which means at this point I can avoid having my neck cut into for the fourth time in less than 10 years. However...

I've learned over the years, that when a physician's office calls with test results and they don't leave a message, there may be a problem. Seeing that missed call on Friday and not seeing a corresponding voicemail, caused me to pause. And pick up the phone and call the ENT's office. Looks like there was some uptake in my breast area and I need to get a mammogram, despite just having had 2 in May. So, today I will call my primary doctor's office and ask for a referral and schedule an appointment to have my breasts squished between those metal plates for the third time in less than 6 months.

As far as PET scans go, I'm 2 for 2. But, I know that if there's anything there it is early and I am confident that all will be fine. And - how perfect that it is October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. If you know me in real life (as if I'm an enigma virtually!) you know that I'm not one for trends, but this situation couldn't come at a better time of the year. For me and you ladies out there. Do your breast self exams and get that annual mammogram! Early detection is key.

As for me, I'm going to wear pink every frigging day. If I'm not outrunning cancer mentally by literally taking a run wearing my hot pink ear buds, I'll be wearing a pink scarf or sweater, or socks or perhaps a favorite piece of hot pink under-attire. Pink? Oh, it will be there. And we'll hope that's ALL that is there.

Check out this recent SEEN gallery from the TU. Survivors are everywhere.

Highlights and lowlights

2011-10-01T01:10:00.001-04:00

This is the time of the year when I generally tweak my hair color to a richer, more autumnal shade. You know, add some highlights and lowlights to add depth to my color for the long dark winter that lies ahead. But that isn't what this post is about. I've been reflecting on the month of the September and recognized that I've had some rather extreme emotional experiences in the past 30 days.

image from 4.bp.blogspot.com

I'm inclined to ~~over~~share events in my life, focusing most often on the positive. What can I say? It's my way. And my blog. This past week I've struggled a little bit with my generally sunny outlook on life and I thought it would be a good exercise for me to kind of itemize the good and the bad to help me gain perspective.

Without further ado - the highlights of September 2011:

Visiting the NYS Fair with the boys and hanging out with my brother at his house. This was the month when Q learned to swim and his time spent in my brother's pool was integral to the process. Bonus that my brother is a doctor in case of any near drowning incidents.
NYC with the girls. No further explanation necessary or offered.
Participating in the American Memorial Triathlon
Outstanding meals at Cafe Capriccio and the Capital City Gastropub
A memorable birthday breakfast
Celebrating birthdays and a marriage with friends

And now, the lowlights:

Seeing people I love struggle with loss and personal challenges
Losing the only other girl in my home, Cassidy Bono Lilly, for a night. She was picked up by animal control when an unnamed Lilly boy did a crap job taking care of her. She is no worse for her night spent at the Menand's animal shelter and perhaps appreciates home more now than ever.
Having a routine follow-up PET scan at Albany Med. It sucks to walk through the door marked "Oncology" and know that you're in the right place.

Expressing these high and low points of the month clearly illustrates that I have way more to be thankful for than I have to complain about. I also can appreciate that two of the difficult things aren't clearly about me - they're situations which affect me because I care. Which ultimately is a positive, isn't it?

I can't be alone in doing this, right? Don't you weigh good and bad events in your life to try to evaluate how you're doing? Do you check in, and if so, how?

Bouquet

2011-09-27T18:24:00.000-04:00

Bouquet

Confession: at 45 years + 3 days

2011-09-24T20:36:00.000-04:00

image from messiahmom.com

I am vain. Yep, there you have it. In print. Well, sort of in print.

I just went for my first run in my new year. It was really hard - it was humid and I have been indulgent this week, as I should be. Despite the challenges, I'm pleased I went because I always feel inspired when I run. My appetite for fresh food and mental exercise is stimulated and I come home tired but anticipating the next opportunity to stretch my muscles, wanting just a little more...

My thoughts during those 4 miles this afternoon began with something I wrote down before leaving the house:

It's not how far you go, it's how far you've come.

That statement sums up a big part of my life's philosophy. Am I conceited or egotistical? Yes, both, but I earned every thread of confidence I wear. There are so many ways a person's life can go and the fact that I am where I am at this exact moment in time is because of the choices I made and the work I've invested - in education, and building relationships, and living with the decisions I've made over the years.

There aren't many things I've wanted in my life that I haven't gotten. Consider yourself warned. The "things" I've wanted and haven't been able to hold on to, were never really "things," anyway. I mean, I'll never know my father or trust my mother or have a husband for my entire life, but that all is about yesterday and I think overall, I'm doing ok. Perhaps, even better than that.

Anticipating opportunities to stretch one's muscles and wanting a little more ain't just for running....

I got a restaurant for my birthday!!!

2011-09-21T16:36:00.001-04:00

Ok, so maybe I didn't actually get a restaurant for my birthday, but I (along with the rest of you lucky Capital District denizens) did get a great new dining option. The Capital City Gastropub opened for business last night and it truly felt like a gift. This place rocks! Yes, yes, I work for Kevin Everleth at his Lark Street restaurant, but, I assure you, there is no nepotism in my assessment. The CCG is the perfect spot for a date, a night out with friends or an evening meal with the family - it just has so much to offer.

Although Kevin took possession of the space less than a month ago there have been some positive improvements, with more still to come, of the interior. Were you here when it was Pasquale's? I always loved their pizza, but found it to be a bit pricey when feeding 3 hungry boys who can each pack away 3-4 slices each, especially when the pizza has a divine thin crust. Anyway, the configuration is similar to what it was in the past with an open kitchen and seating for 40+. Eventually there will be an actual bar with seating, which is a good thing - they're going to need all the chairs they can find. Last night at about 7:30 when we arrived, there were not many tables available, and that was without any real advertising. This place is going to be busy!

Kerry and Jason

I have to say, the most challenging part of the evening was deciding what to eat. And drink. There are so many directions that the menu can take you - vegetarian? Pizza? Daily meat, fish, vegetarian or sliders options? Oh my goodness - I haven't even mentioned the beer list or the wine selection...this place will require many visits to cover the tantalizing options offered.

I want to get this post up right now in case you don't have dinner plans. I will revisit it tomorrow with some more details...

Beautiful beer taps

Pork Belly Banh-mi

Fried Smelts

Angus hangar steak frites - marrow Bordelaise

Fish Tacos (!!!)

45 Things I've learned this year

2011-09-21T06:22:00.000-04:00

1. I prefer my surgery with local anaesthesia.
2. There is a huge difference between having one's heart broken and having your ego
     stomped on. The first situation requires time to heal, the later demands a realistic
     examination of what the relationship really ~~meant~~ means.
3. Part time parenting is the dirty little secret of divorce. That's all I'm saying and I'm quoting
      someone else.
4. After a couple of 5Ks, a Warrior Dash and a sprint triathlon or two, I know I'm up for more
      physical challenges at age 45 than I was at 35. Or 25.
5.   Being alone and lonely is an improvement on being with someone and lonely.
6. Writing is a path.
7. The lines on my face are not from sleeping on my stomach. I'd better get used to them.
8. There is a deep irony in losing one's ability to see close-up while simultaneously
   beginning to grow rogue hair in random places. Jury is still out on whether diminished
   vision is a curse or a blessing.
9. I'm happy to get away from home for adventures but content to be in my home - even
     alone.Where ever you go, there you are.
10. My brother and friends, both old and new, continue to be amazing sources of stability,
      support and nonjudgmental love.
11. Speaking of love, I feel blessed to have as much love in my life as I do. Opening one's
      heart and letting go of the negative creates space for the positive.
12. Relationships may change over time, but common interests like children, cycling and food
      can keep a friendship alive.
13. Never believe all the decisions in life have already been made. Choices always remain.
14. Exercise, particularly running these days, is a sanity saver.
15. It is wonderful to work for a restaurant owner who understands owning a restaurant is a
      professional endeavor not a vanity project.
16. Having good credit is an often minimized reward in life.
17. Ice cream and alcohol make summer fun. They also make me about 5 lbs heavier.
18. I am much more productive when I am busy.
19. I don't know why or how, but apparently I sometimes inspire people. I hope the
      inspiration I provide is to live a full life.
20. The challenges in life merely make the sweet spots more special.
21. I have a new found appreciation for exercising when the temperature is high.
22. I'm not that difficult, much less impossible, to take care of.
23. Milk, and other dairy products, from Meadowbrook Farms are a luxury I am willing to work
      into my budget as a necessary expense.
24. Children accept change with grace when it is accompanied by honesty.
25. Being healthy makes everything better.
26. Speaking my mind, with as much sensitivity as the circumstances demand, is best for
      everyone involved.
27. People are capable of things never imagined - both good and bad.
28. Endorphins are real. And addictive.
29. Grocery shopping can be fun!
30. Love comes from places not previously imagined.
31. Life has many chapters. Not every character makes the leap from one chapter to the
      next. This is okay.
32. Worrying is less productive than work.
33. Sleep becomes less necessary with age.
34. I have a latent competitive streak that surprises me.
35. Acceptance and surrender are very different emotions.
36. I will not tolerate feeling invisible.
37. I don't have many regrets in life but, those I do have, constantly remind me to avoid
      accumulating any more.
38. I love buying wine by the case!
39. There is nothing so heady as falling in love.
40. Words are very powerful to me, but without action they lose their mojo.
41. I've never been more optimistic about the future.
42. The Capital City Gastropub is going to rock this town.
43. It doesn't really matter where you are. It's all about who you're with.
44. Feeling excited about tomorrow is invigorating.
45. Being in love is the best drug in the world. Maybe even the universe.

Birthday Friends

2011-09-20T23:57:00.000-04:00

For about 30 years I've exchanged birthday wishes with my dear friend, Brian, who had the courtesy of being born a day before me, thus ensuring he will always be my elder. Through the years there have been cards exchanged, in person, via traditional mail, and online. Almost every year we have spoken on both his birthday and then my birthday to convey birthday greetings. I have come to mark Bri's September birthday as not merely a precursor to my birthday, but as an event in and of itself worthy of the heartiest celebration - and believe me, we've done that. Many, many times.

Last year, my newish neighbor, Ken, and I determined that we share a common birthday. And, while I am a firm believer that one's birthday is their very own special holiday, I'm sincerely ok sharing mine with Ken. As long as there is a bottle of wine involved, that is.

I started thinking recently about how friends flow in, and sometimes out, of our lives. It's almost as if we, as individuals, send out some sort of cosmic message which attracts people to us at different points in our lives. People who seemingly have very different interests or experiences suddenly are more similar to us than previously thought and connections are made. And, amazingly enough, these individuals bring with them, in addition to their own personalities, a group of people - partners and friends and families. Isn't it magnificent?

Birthdays and friends are two things I will never complain about having more of in my life - there will always be room for a few more of each of them.

Warning! Birthday week has officially begun...

2011-09-18T22:57:00.001-04:00

Yasmine and I slapped hands in the corner tonight and, as a tag team of birthday celebrants, officially transitioned (in my mind, at least) from her birthday to mine. Or, at a minimum, we agreed to share the next few days as mutual birthday space or something like that. Bottom line: this entire week will be spent acknowledging birthdays (mostly mine) and milestones and transitions, some things I've learned in my most recent year of living, and what the next year may bring.

Suffice it to say, this evening was lovely. Dinner at Capriccio, as always, was dynamite (such a Jim Rua word!) and I only wish for more hours in the day to spend with those I love. And, how has Franco's incredible pizza not garnered a nomination in AOA's Tournament of Pizza 2011? People, really? Get there!

Pizza with mission figs and house made prosciutto

Stay tuned for epic self-indulgence this week as I intend to celebrate my mid-40's marker with enthusiasm and good humor. And a smile.

Bad Bottle Blues

2011-09-17T13:30:00.000-04:00

Bad Bottle Blues

Inspired

2011-09-12T16:35:00.001-04:00

pappardelle cinghiale

If you had told me ten years ago, that I would successfully complete a sprint triathlon in my lifetime, it would have seemed as likely as the Twin Towers tumbling to the ground. Impossible. However, yesterday I swam 1/2 a mile, biked 17.9 miles and ran 4 miles when I participated in the American Memorial Triathlon, a combination of physical events I had never attempted before. Let me tell you how it went...

The carb-loading aspect of training was thoroughly enjoyable - especially after I was told that wine has carbohydrates! I added two glasses to my evening meal at Viviano's in Warwick where Griffin and I had a delicious and fun dinner.

My night's sleep on Saturday wasn't the best, but the Sunday morning sky, filled with peach colored clouds and hints of blue, was beautiful as I drove over the mountain to Greenwood Lake. I had checked in the previous afternoon so the morning went smoothly, other than the increasingly larger jitters wreaking havoc in my stomach. I had joked quite a bit about my fear of drowning, but my nerves were definitely more generalized than that. I don't know if you've participated in an event like this (and I know this was merely a sprint tri), but serious athletes show up at these things! I couldn't help but be intimidated by some of the really ripped bodies surrounding me and my $300 used road bike. At least I had a (borrowed) wetsuit to give the illusion that I was legit. An illusion which would immediately be dispelled once I hit the water, of course.

The swim segment was less frightening than I anticipated because of two things: 1. men and women were separated and sent out in 2 waves which prevented the kind of flailing and splashing and jostling that I had heard can occur in large group swims and 2. that wetsuit gave me confidence along with some added buoyancy. I definitely hung back to avoid slowing anyone down and, since I had only trained (for the past 2 weeks) indoors, the sensation of having the waves slap me in the face was a bit disconcerting. I did a lot of time on my back staring at the sky, which was not a bad thing. Once I made it to the first buoy (1/3 complete), I knew I was going to be fine, unlike the three or four people I witnessed swimming ,or being transported via jetski, back to shore. I was probably among the last 5 or 6 people back to land, but at least I wasn't last - an improvement already over my last tri outing. I slipped off the wetsuit, got my shoes, helmet and gloves on and headed out for a ride around the lake.

The bike ride was an area with which I felt fairly comfortable. I've done this ride recreationally before and I knew it wasn't particularly challenging, but the recent rains had the potential to create some problems with debris and gravel deposits, so I rode with caution. I definitely started to gain some confidence as I saw people walking their bikes up hills which didn't even threaten to take me out of my seat. I forced myself to ride at a decent pace, yet did my best to preserve my legs for the run, which I now knew incorporated a couple of hills that would definitely feel more significant as the exertion became increasingly cumulative. I passed a number of other riders, taking an unsportsmanlike glee in overtaking those younger than myself - a definite benefit of having one's age written on the back of one's calf. I was overtaken only once by a really tall guy as we were riding downhill. I noted the number (36) on his leg and promised myself I would catch him on the next climb - which I did. Other than that, I was never passed (in any segment), a fact I take some pride in. And, no, it wasn't because I was last either!

heading to the finish

Getting off the bike felt good, but the first 2 miles of the run were pretty slow for me. I swear my legs weighed about a 100 lbs. Each. But once I knew I was down to the last 2 miles and felt the endorphins kicking, I picked up my pace a bit and probably finished the second half of the run doing 8.5 minute miles, which, for me, is pretty good. The tears threatened when I ran past the volunteer firehouse and saw the folded up uniform and helmet on a chair in honor of the fallen from September 11, 2001, but I managed to keep it together. My support son, Griffin, met me and we ran the last 100 yards or so together, which was awesome. Having him there, along with one of my best Laker girlfriends, was just what I needed at the finish line.

There were moments along the way when I doubted my ability to finish and I thought of those lost a decade earlier and kept going. I told myself to be thankful for the opportunity to push my body and reminded myself that I never had to do this again. Kind of like when I had my last drug free childbirth. I am ridiculously proud of myself and am fully prepared to greet 45 next week with open arms. And I'm planning to keep the date open for 2012. Never say never. Never forget.

3 Events Inspired by 1

2011-09-09T06:09:00.003-04:00

image from: steeljawscribe.com

On the 10th anniversary of the most devastating terrorist act in my lifetime, I will be participating in a sprint triathlon. It's called the American Memorial Triathlon, a title which annoys me a bit with its commercial stink. In all honesty, the date of the event is a significant factor in why I am registered for an athletic activity which frankly, kind of scares me. How can I complain about being afraid to swim .5 miles in a lake I grew up swimming in, when ten years prior firefighters and police officers willingly entered an inferno in an attempt to save the lives of thousands of strangers? Fear? I'll be swimming to remember and honor their selfless bravery and a million miles in shark infested waters would never do them justice.

I have pictures in my head that I will always retain - images I don't ever want to forget because they remind me of how life can change in an instant. I never imagined that pain and fear and horror could visit our world on a glorious day with the sky a shade of blue that should only be experienced while lying on one's back in a field of late summer asters with your beloved at your side. No, for the sky to have been a reflection of the events of that day, there should have been howling winds and menacing clouds that compelled one to seek shelter and hide from what was to come. As my tires spin while I pedal the around the shore of Greenwood Lake, I'll remember that the world will continue to turn, no matter the weather or the color of the sky, and I will be inspired by those who know that a blue sky does not guarantee security.

It isn't always immediately clear in life whether one is running towards or away from something. On that September morning, both happened. I met a firefighter in 2002 at my favorite Irish Pub in New York City, the Dublin House. He told me, over a pint, that he had been off duty that Tuesday morning when our nation's innocence disappeared in multiple balls of flame. Despite not being obligated to respond to the situation in Manhattan, without hesitation, he jumped in his car pausing only to visit his daughter at school for a kiss, and drove as fast as he could towards the disaster from which thousands were fleeing. This Sunday, September 11, 2011, I'm going to run away from doubts and being afraid of how my body may not be prepared for a task I've never before encountered and keep my eyes and heart and mind instead upon the finish line. And when I finally complete this triathlon, I guarantee you, there will be tears and a pint raised. The tears will be shed in appreciation of the efforts of my body, yes, but more than that they will be in honor of who and what we have collectively lost since that morning a decade ago. As will that pint.

Sign of the Times - Who's your mayor?

2011-09-07T20:43:00.000-04:00

Are all politicians essentially narcisists? Is there some cachet which I simply don't understand in having one's name emblazoned upon recycling bins, trash cans, a fleet of city vehicles and various signs around our city? I don't believe the position of mayor is permanent despite the number of years Jerry has been on the job and I have to wonder what the eventual related expense of having his name removed from all of those publicly owned city assets will be. And why in God's name is Gerald diminutized to become Jerry?

Years ago, I remember there being a sign welcoming folks to the New York State side of my hometown Greenwood Lake, a nine-mile body of water which straddles N.Y. and N.J. I can't recall if it was Governor Carey or Governor Cuomo the first who decided that his name being on that particular sign was extraneous and more than a little self-indulgent. Since that time, decades ago the sign has simply stated "Welcome to New York, the Empire State." Doesn't that say all you need to know?

image from upstatenyroads.com

Wouldn't it make ~~cents~~ sense to stop wasting taxpayer money feeding the egos of elected officials? I know who my mayor is - I even pulled the lever for him a couple of times in the past. I might even miss him when he's gone, something which will eventually happen. I hope he takes his signs with him.

456 Shanghai

2011-09-06T13:06:00.002-04:00

I happened to catch Sam Sifton's review of 456 Shanghai last week and decided to give it a try for lunch over the weekend. Or, as I like to think of it when traveling with the girls, an afternoon food base for our evening's cocktails. We rolled in at about 1 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon and encountered a modest wait to be seated. We would have had our asses in our chairs a bit faster had the diners at "our" table not dawdled after they concluded their meal. Note: when you have finished eating at a busy restaurant where there is an ever growing line of diners waiting to be seated, do not visit the bathroom one-by-one or linger to attend to personal grooming at the table. It is just rude.

We scored a great table by the window and quickly made our decisions - scallion pancakes, soup dumplings, shrimp, pork and chicken lo mien, and sauteed green beans. Our server warned us that the dumplings would take 20 minutes, a reality which dragged our light meal out into a 3 course affair, but no worries. The scallion pancakes were fine - hot, kind of crispy, but not really special like the ones I enjoyed at Vanessa's. Things picked up with the lo mien - it was flavorful, hot and with the perfect amount of oil to keep things delicious without leaning towards greasy. I neglected to photograph the green beans which is unfortunate because they were a little different than what I have experienced in the past. Rather than a simple garlic and oil coating, they had almost a hot and sweet flavor. I do believe they even initiated my hiccup response to hot peppers, albeit briefly. The sauce was a bit reddish and clung to the beans beautifully and while they were different than what I am accustomed to, they were enjoyed by all three of us.

The real star of the show, though, was the order of soup dumplings. I've had some debate with Albany Jane about soup dumplings, and I readily admit my novice status as a soup dumpling connoisseur, but the first time I tried these lovely tidbits of yum was at Joe's Shanghai and my initial exposure is what has defined them for me. I've had them a couple of times locally at Ala Shanghai and I wasn't particularly impressed. I mean, it is nice to finally get a chance to have them locally, but I think the dough is too thick and the flavors weren't as concentrated as I expected. No worries - AJ and I remain good and we will certainly continue our mutual admiration of one another! The dumplings at 456 Shanghai were of the same ilk as those at Joe's, which means more for me 'cause AJ won't be scarfing them all down - and that girl can eat. My Sunday ~~drinking~~ dining companions had never experienced soup dumplings before and they were quite smitten by them as well. There will be more dumplings in their futures for sure.

I can see myself alternating between Joe's and 456 on future visits to Chinatown because they both provide a satisfying meal at an incredibly reasonable price. How reasonable? Our shared meal of lo mien, green beans, scallion pancakes and dumplings came to...$25.75, pre-tip. They don't place an automatic gratuity on the check at 456 as they do at Joe's, just so you're aware. I'd be willing to pay a little more for the quality of food we consumed, and would suggest they charge a couple of additional $$ and devote the extra money to restroom clean-up. They (yep, I checked them both out) were pretty groddy and I know I enjoyed my lunch more before seeing the state of the bathrooms. All in all, thanks, Sam Sifton, for a good find in Chinatown.

Boy man

2011-09-04T07:54:00.000-04:00

What can you say about a kid quickly becoming a man? I mean, I'm talking about a young teen on the express route physically, and perhaps even intellectually, to adulthood. He is taller by the second as his height wrestles with the size of his feet for ultimate dominance, and his hair and voice are growing darker and deeper each time I look at him. Something I now have to do, incidentally, by looking up rather than down.

His dvr recorded list is very interesting and offers a peek into his personality. It spans decades and seems to revisit some movies an uncountable number of times. Get Smart (2008 remake), Airplane (1980), Captain America (1992), Muppet Treasury (1996, with Tim Curry), The Parent Trap (1961), Great Performances (Vienna Philharmonic), Jurassic Park (1993). Wow, huh? I'd say that about sums it up - he is cultured and silly and sentimental and adventurous. He's my boy.

He's starting high school this month - a whole new world of opportunities and experiences are right around the corner. He is beginning to make more of his own choices beginning with the academy for his curriculum as Albany High tinkers with their academic structure to create more focused houses within a large school. His schedule arrived last week and he seems excited, for him. Teens have a tendency to be blasé so his eagerness manifested itself as a lack of disdain more than something most people would interpret as excitement, but I can see it. He's ready for the next thing. Glad one of us is.

On the Edge of 17 - Still

2011-08-31T12:34:00.001-04:00

circa '88 - note the shirt

Last night I revisited my all too brief girlhood when I took in Stevie Nicks at SPAC. I must admit, I wouldn't have even considered going to this show, but the opportunity arose for me to take some photos for the TU SEEN gallery and it was a beautiful late August night, so to Saratoga I went.

A little history here (as if that photo on the left doesn't tell you ~~more than~~ everything you might want to know), Fleetwood Mac's Rumours album was the first record that pierced my existence. I have such strong memories of those songs...definitely a desert island album for me. My first big rock show in 1981 was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers at the Brendan Byrne Arena. Imagine my excitement when Stevie came out to perform Stop Dragging My Heart Around with Tom and the band! Note to those who may have caught that same tour but weren't fortunate enough to see Stevie: Sorry, it was the only time NJ was cooler than NY. Ever.

During my teens when Stevie Nicks had a couple of big solo records, the girls and I were avid fans and, as the photo attests, I've ~~got~~ had the t-shirt to prove it. We wore out a couple of cassette copies of Bella Donna and The Wild Heart doing laps around town in Mary Lynn's Camaro, believe me. I'll never know if it was the husky voice, the cascading blond hair or the sensitive, yet strong lyrics, but I was hooked.

Last night's show was simply a blast! Walking around SPAC with a camera is really fun and the folks I asked to pose were totally into it - thank you all for being so gracious. And thank you, Sally, for being such an excellent beer holder, I mean assistant. The crowd was small with only amphitheater tickets available in an attempt to keep things intimate. The opening act, Michael Grimm, was good although we honestly didn't pay much attention because I was trying to catch some photos before the main event. And Stevie? Well, she talked a lot and she changed her clothes a few times, something I'm no longer accustomed to. Guess it's been awhile since I saw a female performer live. But, her voice? It was money! She sounded great - perhaps not hitting every high note as she may have in days gone past, but that beautiful husky quality is still there and she sang with a lot of heart. Landslide and Dreams were definite highlights for me, and the crowd in general, judging from the sing along I witnessed. Ok, the sing along I may have participated in. And, while I have no interest in being 17 again, it is nice to know that my senior high quote, courtesy of Stevie, remains timelessly accurate: "I have my own life and I am stronger than you know."

Tomato Pie

2011-08-29T14:18:00.000-04:00

Ah, late August, the season for earthquakes, hurricanes and tomatoes in upstate New York. For the record, of the three, I prefer a glut of tomatoes over an excess of seismic activity or a deluge of rain accompanied by ridiculous winds.

I took a bike ride Saturday to the Troy Farmer's Market to pick up a gallon (What? You don't buy your maple syrup by the gallon?!) of maple syrup. Naturally, when you're riding a bike with saddlebags, as is true with many of life's experiences, balance is important. So, I picked up some gorgeous tomatoes, beautiful peaches and peppery arugula, in my quest to keep on an even keel as I rode back to the DelSo. The maple syrup is for the impressive number of pancakes and/or waffles the Lilly boys can put away, as well as for adding a touch of sweetness to roasted squash and root vegetables as the season changes and I begin cooking autumnal style. But, let's not rush things because there are still plenty of tomatoes to be eaten and I'm suggesting you enjoy some of them in a tomato pie.

Before baking

After

The basis of the recipe came from the August 2011 issue of Bon Appetit. Of course, I didn't really measure closely and I ignored the dill called for in the recipe and substituted basil and flat leaf parsley instead, with great results. I also did not have Parmesan so I used some Asiago instead. I found the buttermilk dough to be a bit onerous to work with. Maybe I needed it to be colder to successfully roll it out? A wider plastic wrap would probably have been helpful as the circumference of the dough exceeded the width of the plastic wrap making things challenging. Or perhaps, I just suck at dealing with dough. Anyway - it may not have been beautiful, but, it sure was tasty. And, unlike ~~Hurricane~~ Tropical Storm Irene, this dish lived up to the hype.

PS - I sincerely hope you all made it through the storm safely with minimal damage.

Hurricane Prep ~ Lilly Boy Style

2011-08-27T17:50:00.000-04:00

Is there a better way to prepare for a major tropical storm than practicing getting tossed around by water and wind? I don't think so! Screw that filling up the tub with water nonsense and buying more toilet paper than a typical family of four uses in a month of eating tacos. Not here - we prepared for the elements. We built up our tolerance for being splashed in the face and getting our feet and bodies drenched. Bring it on, Irene!

We're at the point in the summer when we make a mad dash to attempt to squeeze in all the adventures and escapades possible to reflect upon during Albany's long(ish) winter. Zoom Flume has been on our to-do list ever since I cut that $5 from the Times Union months ago. The fact that I could put my hands on said coupon is a reflection of my mad organizational skills - and the fact that 20 bucks is 20 bucks and I wasn't tossing that away recklessly. Speaking of reckless...

See that shadow of a boy in the Mighty Anaconda? That's my Quinn, who decided yesterday to brave all the attractions I would permit, despite his newly acquired, rather crude, swimming skills. Damn him and his excessive height (48" at age 6!) because now he can basically partake in any of the attractions other than one which specifies swimming ability as a requirement. I must admit, his big brothers were awesome lifeguards for him, remaining in the water to shepard Quinn out as necessary. Good job, guys!

Zoom Flume is less than an hour south of Albany and a perfect place to give your kids a little length in their leash. It's small with maybe 10 or 12 water rides and/or play areas. I may get one more season of all three boys being entertained with what's offered here - beyond that, I think we'll be aging out. It's one of those old school, Irish Alps kind of places. They're really chill about allowing you to bring in picnic items and the folks who work there are pretty pleasant. Unlike last year when we visited Great Escape, at about the same point in the summer, ZF is fully staffed with all attractions open. The lines were really short, parking was convenient (and free) and we left there feeling as if we got good value for $20 per person.

Is it fancy? Nope. Is it well maintained and clean? Yep. New for 2011 was the Riptide Cove Wave Pool, a smallish wave pool that the boys found to be a little "lame" after days spent swimming off Chappaquiddick earlier this month. If you're lucky enough to have less blase' children than I do, I'm sure they'd find it to be enjoyable. The best part of that particular attraction for me, was the available chaise lounge where I was comfortable enough with the safety of the pool to grab a quick nap.

The ZF season runs until 9/5 so there's still time to get there, assuming we all survive Irene. Better go prepare for Mother Nature's next temper tantrum by filling up the bathtub with water. And bubbles!

Summer Steak Salad

2011-08-26T19:55:00.000-04:00

Arugula, lightly dressed with special Ligurian olive oil and fresh lemon juice, topped with sliced London broil, local beefsteak tomatoes, sliced fresh mozzarella, slivers of red onion and a chiffonade of my own basil. Who says salad isn't manly?

Mussels!

2011-08-24T11:07:00.000-04:00

Last week I picked up 2lbs of live mussels at Price Chopper for the incredible price of $2.99. Yep - not a typo, less than $1.50 per pound! This may be the ~~cheapest~~ least expensive meal I've ever cooked, macaroni with butter and onions and Parmesan aside.

Coincidentally, as I flipped around the television on the very same day, there was an episode of Secrets of a Restaurant Chef on and she, too, was cooking mussels. Weird, huh?

I missed the beginning of her demo, but saw enough to know that I was on the right track with my own sensibilities regarding how to prepare these babies. What follows is one of the easiest, low budget, delicious recipes eva! Sweat some chopped onion and minced garlic in a combination of olive oil and butter - just enough fat to coat the pot and the vegetables. Dump your mussels in the pot and pour in a couple of cups of white wine. Cover and cook over medium high heat for about 3 minutes. Toss in a coarsely chopped plum tomato or two and a handful of fresh herbs - parsley, basil, rosemary, whatever you've got in any combination which you find pleasing. Cover and cook 2 more minutes. Transfer to a bowl and serve with grilled crusty bread. Done. My 2 lbs provided me with a satisfying light dinner with enough leftovers to treat my neighbors, recently returned to the DelSo following some time spent with family, to a surprise appetizer. Mussels - yummy to eat and fun to share.