Did you know I went to Cornell?

Read all about my history in the Ivy League!

Don't be afraid to care

You might be noticing my recent posts are lyrics.  Did I mention I really wish I had seen last month's Roger Water's show?!?

Here's the newest post over at my place in WordPress. 

Beach Bonfire - UPDATED with photos!

When I was polling the boys, prior to our annual Cape Cod trip, about what they might be interested in doing Griffin requested a bonfire on the beach.  Yep, the same boy who took surfing lessons and wanted to visit L.A.  He's a dude in the making, fer sure.  

The process for legally having a fire at one of a select few of Wellfleet's beaches (3 ocean beach options) is fairly straight forward: you must have a permit and permits are issued on a first come, first served basis, day of only. By the time I hit the beach office at 10:00 in the morning, two of the three beaches were "full" already, leaving White Crest, a beach I don't recall visiting in the past, as our default option.  Because a full moon was expected, I happily took my free permit and mentally made a to-do list...

The little guys were in charge of gathering kindling wood and they did a super job making a pile of sticks and twigs.  Actually, they made two piles, one of which was firewood.  The other stack of branches was their arsenal of stick weapons.  Mostly rifles, I believe.  Both stacks were tossed into the car, and ultimately on to the fire, a situation which required profuse apologies and promises of weapon gathering come daylight.  Additional items acquired included graham crackers (we already had Hershey bars and marshmallows), more significant wood to burn (we had to choose from "hardwood" or "softwood." Have at it, jokesters!) and a lighter.  With all materials in hand, we headed to the beach just in time to see the moon seemingly rise from the majestic Atlantic.  Stunning.

You may have noticed I neglected to mention paper to assist in starting the fire.  

We neglected to think of, much less, bring paper.  No worries.  We cleaned our cars out of expired insurance id cards, printed out directions and other miscellaneous bits of paper from our glove boxes.  And the graham cracker box was pretty handy, too.  I have to say, we built a stupendous fire.  It was perfectly constructed in that pyramid/tepee shape and it burned beautifully. 

 

There was a breeze blowing from the south (east?) and the flames danced in the darkness as the moon played hide and seek with some errant clouds.  Marshmallows were toasted and our wild things frolicked on the beach, amped on sugar and salt air. Memories were made which will remain vivid far beyond the glow of our fire's embers. 

Great idea, Griffin.

Troy's Botanic Studio

I used to really have a way with plants.  And I don't mean that in a good way.  Other than a single plant that somehow survived the days when I had to choose between nurturing the children or some potted greenery, I pretty much killed plants. 

Something shifted, though, about 10 years ago.  I inherited a rubber plant (tree?) from a friend departing town, and unlike our friendship, this plant has thrived.  Two re-pottings later this plant towers over me and is beautifully lush all year long. My confidence grew and I took on a spider plant, which became multiple plants as it happily threw off shoots.  I began forcing flowers during the winter and more seriously puttering around my tiny front garden.  But the day I knew I had arrived as a competent plant tender was when Lisa gave me a mostly dead fern, a type of plant that I have killed on a routine basis, and told me I could make it live.  And I did.

Last year I added an asparagus fern, also nearly dead, to my indoor garden and its beautiful  feathery fronds make me happy every time I see them.  I also dug up my parking strip (the grass between the curb and the sidewalk) and added some herbs and iris to my landscape. Yeah, I got this.  

Whether you struggle with gardening or have a natural green thumb, Botanic Studio on River Street in Troy is bound to inspire.  The space is gorgeous and tranquil and each eyeful of the shop is pleasing.  Get yourself to Troy and bring some of that peace to your home.

Light(en) up

image: edia.treehugger.com

After a day booked so full of errands and chores that the only thing I didn't schedule was time to breath, I took a long run tonight.  There were moments when I knew I needed to take a break and walk, but I didn't.  The route I took was  a new one to me and I mentally dubbed it the "big girl route."

The run was the perfect, late spring evening run - absolutely sublime.  There were only good smells, and the moisture in the air which felt like dampness this morning, now only added to my glisten.  My mind let go and provided a good example to my muscles which released as the miles ticked off.  I began considering all the meanings of the word "light" and realized that I had been using it pretty exclusively as a measurement of illumination.  But, didn't it describe so many other actions?

I ran past gatherings of people on porches and decks and stoops.  One group of second floor porch dwellers taunted their buddy in his convertible to "Light 'em up!!" I hadn't heard that particular phrase in so long that it caused me to remember another phrase of the same era - "Light up." I smiled a bit broader. 

I approached a corner and continued straight instead of making my usual left turn.  I was unfamiliar with the traffic light I now faced - new territory, more exhilarating than scary.  I saw a beautiful grassy lawn behind a romantic brick wall and the most meticulously maintained home I had never noticed.  

I continued and thought about how important it is to lighten up sometimes.  Stop carrying that which weighs us down.  Or maybe share the burden with someone.  Consciously release to something new.  

You remember the steps - Stomp hard on the gas.   
                                          Inhale deeply.        
                                          Let go.                                                    

Pink Party 2012

You'd think that after attending the last three of these events I'd know precisely what to expect - attractive men and women clad in various shades of pink having a good time for a good cause.  I always see someone I haven't seen in years, the beverages usually lean more to vodka than cava and the night would be incomplete without a smooch from Tom Moore.  Yet, despite the predictability of this annual event, there's always room for a surprise - like last night's, and I hope this term isn't offensive, drag queens.  How fun!  And I have never seen as many swingers in one room as I did last night.  I mean, that's what you would call the folks taking liberties with the rope swing at Matt Baumgartner's house, right?  

A great host, a beautiful crowd and good cause = a fun night.  Thanks for always being a gracious host, Matt.  You really know how to throw a party!  More pics here.

Let's see about the go see

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....

Paper White Project - Week 4

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?

Getting all Natty Bumppo

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?

Pattern of the week

I do believe Ken has had some spare time this week.  Must be because he isn't pitching by helping to take care of my plants/flowers now that I'm home again.  This week's pattern is one that requires great self-control.  I mean, it must be hard to leave those alternating rows of grass long in a world that measures yard work prowess by even handed preciseness.  Here in the DelSo, though, we do things are own way and are not afraid to be a little different.  And on that note...

Do you see the pattern?  In the spots where Ken made the turns it kind of looks like the letter "L" to me, but perhaps I am projecting.  Regardless, come home soon, Lori. I think Ken is getting bored without you.

The Sun Also Rises - Vineyard Haven, August 2011

Sunsets

Lieutenant's Island, Wellfleet

Lieutenant's Island, Wellfleet

 

Lieutenant's Island, Wellfleet - G and me

Vineyard Haven, Martha's Vineyard

My boys and me

Vineyard Haven, Martha's Vineyard

Vineyard Haven, Martha's Vineyard

When you live next door to artists...

My original Ragsdale

About 2 years ago, our next door neighbors put their house on the market.  During the brief time the house was for sale, I sometimes imagined who the new perfect neighbors might be.   The sellers were a nice enough couple with three children, but we certainly didn't have much in common with them.  I decided the ideal new neighbors would be a gay couple - kind of artsy, perhaps more accustomed to traveling and eating and drinking than the current owners.  A bit more fun, for lack of a better word.

When I learned the house had been sold to a couple, I was a tad disappointed, picturing more of the same traditional and conservative behaviors I had witnessed for the preceding dozen years or so.  But, then I heard the new neighbors were artists.  Now, you're talking my language!  Welcome to the neighborhood, new friends.

Having Ken and Lori next door has been awesome.  They are social and friendly and thoughtful and completely eclipse the previous folks in terms of neighborliness.  We share a milk box and bottles of wine, and Ken has been generously mowing my lawn this season.  Of, course, he can't simply mow in an up and down fashion because, like I said, he's an artist.  He has taken it upon himself to mow in an artistic fashion.  This week's design was a challenge from me which Ken executed beautifully.  Check it out - herringbone!

Don't you wish you lived in the DelSo, too?  Stay tuned for more images in this summer series...

First Friday

I have a confession - I almost always forget to attend First Friday.  It isn't that I'm uninterested or lacking in a calendar, it's just that by Friday evening I usually feel a little brain dead and, if I go directly home after work, often, I don't leave again.  I had, however, received an email last week from The Albany Art Room promoting the opening of a show called "Hackett Blooms" and I was intrigued.  60 works, created by Hackett students under the instruction of two art teachers, Sandy Smith and Dan O'Brien, would be on display and I was determined to get there.  And just look at the beauty below...

 

I wish there had been more time (always, more time!) to explore more of the offerings, but I am so happy that I got to see the gorgeous work produced by Albany's very own middle schoolers.  The show is up until 6/12, so get there. 

I'd love to think that this First Friday is a mere precursor to many more First Fridays in my future.  If I could  replicate the sunny weather and the company I enjoyed last Friday, each month, I would be a very happy girl. 

DeWitt Lake





I spent a very enjoyable afternoon at a friend's house outside of New Paltz this weekend.  Now you know I love my house (more and more each day), but I have to say I think I could be very happy living at Gregory's place. It may have been the combination of old friends, terrific food, amazing lighting and the internal joy I have had busting out of me recently, but it was most certainly a magical day.   The property, 45 acres, includes a beautiful small lake with a main house that is a perfect example of how to live efficiently in a small, well conceived space. There were no unnecessary items, yet the  overall feeling was luxuriously indulgent.  Nothing extraneous, yet nothing missing.  Perfect.



One of the highlights of the day was the guided walk on the pathway surrounding the lake.  The trail meandered in a completely innocent fashion all the while leading the visitor from vista to vista in a supremely calculated fashion.  It was almost like a visit to a movie set - totally designed for effect while at the same time giving the appearance of absolute happenstance.  Like that pagoda to the right.  It seemed as if it fell from the sky only to land in the perfect picturesque location effortlessly.  For those of you who have spent years perfecting the "no make-up make-up look," you know what I'm talking about here.  It ain't always easy to look natural.

Thoughtfully placed artifacts, both inanimate and organic,  were scattered around the walking path creating a sense of delight to the discoverer.  The pervasive feeling was absolute peacefulness and I sincerely hope Gregory opens the gates to his property for me on additional occasion because it is obviously the type of place where the quiet, attuned observer could contentedly watch the earth evolve for days and days.  The lighting on this particular Sunday, changing from sunlit, blue skies, to an amber yellow, to dove gray, alone made the afternoon feel as if the sky was in competion with the new foliage for its fair share of attention.  The last picture below, I believe, was the sky's attempt to trump the earth's offering of lilacs and dogwood blossoms.  Fortunately, there was sufficient time to absorb the rainbow's beauty while cutting armloads of lilacs to fill my house - looks like I was the winner in nature's face-off.  Spring is most certainly here - get out there, somewhere, and enjoy it.



Buddha watch

 

View from across the lake



Stunning rainbow - naturally



Mohonk Mountain House

I don't know what you know about this place, but allow me to share some of what I've heard and experienced about this amazing place. I first saw the Mohonk Mountain House (MMH) on a perfect October afternoon. I was taking a little hike walk through the woods one gorgeous Columbus Day weekend with some girlfriends and I think, a Lilly boy on my back. We had parked in a lower lot and followed a lovely path through the woods pausing to observe the rock climbers and to surreptitiously  catch our breath. We were all a bit out of shape as we ignored our own physical selves to devote our attention to the little beings we had produced and whose demands exceeded our own supply of hours in a day. The trail took us past fields and under evergreen trees as we continued to gaze up at the tower made of rocks, the tower which didn't seem to get any closer despite our continued efforts. As we rounded a curve in the path all of a sudden it was there - the Mountain House. And we were no longer in the Hudson Valley but had somehow been transported to Europe, perhaps Austria or maybe the Schwarzwald. Or, maybe it was Camelot. Built on, or perhaps birthed by, the grey rocks was an edifice that defied symmetry yet still appeared perfectly balanced. The building was a conglomeration of materials and colors and architectural styles, yet was perfect in it's disharmony. Unforgettable.

I've been back to the locale over the years and seem to always walk away with a new piece of information or legend about the MMH. Although none of this has been confirmed (maybe I should check wikipedia?), I recall hearing that Stephen King was inspired to write The Shining after a stay here, and that he also wrote some of the Mystery Weekends that have been hosted here over the years. Apparently the actual movie was filmed at an Inn in Estes Park, Colorado Oregon, but the inspiration came from Mohonk. My oldest son, the one I hauled on my back, tells me he has seen an episode of some program about haunted buildings which featured Mohonk. I'd like to think the spirit was benevolent and just couldn't bear to leave such a beautiful spot.

Just this weekend I finally got myself inside the Mountain House via an organized x-country ski trip with the Out of Control ski club. Who says I'm not a joiner? The timing of the trip worked out perfectly since I needed to be in New Paltz for an event anyway and I was able to stretch my day of skiing into a 2 night kitchen pass, an ideal beginning to my winter break. I met my ski buddies (bunnies?) a little after 9:00 a.m. at the gate and followed their bus up the winding road.  We quickly got ourselves organized and hit the trail to Skytop. The conditions were less than ideal with lots of ice and even more wind, but I always say a bad day skiing is better than not skiing at all. The views were panoramic and even more breathtaking than the 50 mph wind gusts. The ski up required removing our skis a few times to traverse the worst of the ice patches, not a problem just something of which to remain careful. At the top of the trail we took our skis off and tucked them into a corner of the tower for safekeeping - concerned far more about the wind than theft. The view was magnificent and had the wind not threatened to blow us away, we might have enjoyed relaxing a bit longer, but lunch was calling and I couldn't wait to enjoy the inside of the property.

cheesecake

The buffet began at noon and we were changed and at our table by about 12:30. Although we're not buffet regulars, we didn't make any amateurish mistakes. First we polled our table mates for their favorite items and then we did a reconnaissance lap around the entire display area prior to picking up plates and getting started. I began with a salad of Arugula (surprise, surprise!) with pickled beets, feta, garbanzos, some crunchy seeds and a balsamic vinaigrette. On the side I had a piece of pita with some yummy yogurt-cucumber sauce, pickled red onions and chunks of chicken turned yellow with turmeric. Delicious. My next lap brought sliced duck, Israeli couscous, red curry chicken and grilled vegetables. I wrapped things up with a taste of Oreo mousse pie, a slice of excellent traditional cheesecake and a small pile of fresh pineapple with toasted coconut. All of this, washed down with a half bottle of Alsatian Pinot Blanc. Bliss.  You should go - really.

Bittersweet Exposed

image from picassawebalbums

While skiing through Capital Hills golf course, I was impressed by the aesthetic of the shrubs, bare trees and (everywhere) bittersweet.  As I glided along completely smitten by the exposed, winter panorama, I started thinking about how so often there is more present than what initially meets and greets the eye. How beauty can be subtly layered, frequently becoming more striking as the artifice is stripped away. Yes, of course, verdant greens and brightly hued flowers are obviously stunning, but is what remains after the blowsiness of youth has been exhausted of equal beauty?  And, can the same rationale transfer to relationships?  When the vibrancy and excitement of new love have weathered into a landscape of subtle shades of brown with bursts of unexpected vibrancy, is what remains more than bittersweet?

Forced

Have you ever forced Paper White bulbs?  It is one of the easiest, most satisfying, indoor gardening projects imaginable. 

Like each of us, they sometimes require a little support.

1. Purchase a few bulbs - I think I bought a dozen for about $20 at Hewitt's.  
2. Stick them in a pot of soil or even on a pile of gravel suspended over water in a jar. 
3. Water when you remember keeping the soil somewhere between not wet and not dry.
4. Watch them grow.
5. Enjoy their beauty and fragrance.

The flowers should last at least 2 weeks.

These took about 3 or 4 weeks from purchase to bloom.  Buy some today and you could be sniffing them for the New Year.

See the similarities to daffodils?

Albany Muni aka Capital Hills*

We've (that would be myself, Yas, Cassidy and Iris) made the transition from the Normanskill to the public golf course for dog walking purposes.  I love the golf course, but I enjoy it most when it is blanketed by a foot of snow and I've got my cross-country skis on.  That's right - not a golfer.  It is a lovely place, however,  to take a walk, snow or no snow.  Here's a few snapshots to prove it:

Cool trees on the first hill

The remains of summer

Riot of color

Berry sky

Milkweed

Nest available for sublet

Oak leaf beauty

* I prefer Albany Muni to Capital Hills and will probably always call it that.  Kind of like the Knickerbocker Arena.