Magical time

I think I've got a pretty solid relationship with time.  I respect it, try not to waste it and appreciate the power it can wield over situations which may initially appear unchangeable.  Although it may sometimes deservedly own its spot on a list of four-letter words, generally speaking, me and time are good.  There are occasions when it moves at a rate of speed that may seem too fast or too slow, but, like many other uncontrollable elements of our proscribed lives, I find it best to accept it and do my best to work within its parameters. (Despite my being pissed off twice a year when we manipulate the clocks as we did this morning.)

If you're under the impression that time moves too slowly as the greyness of March creeps along like a melting glacier, let me give you a photographic example of what a difference a mere week makes.  

last week, trees encased in ice

today, my little patch of earth coming alive

It's been a long autumn/winter with lots of snow, both literal and figurative, swirling around in my life.  I entered the season most typically related to hibernation and, instead of slowing down and becoming dormant, I opted to renew my commitment to having a life well lived.  I realized yesterday that I've made it to the city at least once each month since October - a real feat for me, one that I swear soothes my soul while stimulating my brain, every single time.  Not to be a bummer, but I need to have another little piece of something removed from my neck later this month.  I am convinced that this will be the last time this will be necessary because after months of turmoil, and years of repressing the struggle between my heart and my head, I feel like my internal compass is in accord with the direction I am facing - forward.  The procedure is scheduled for the last day of March, which makes me happy.  I can turn the page on the calendar, confident that time has worked its magic, and am incredibly excited about what the future offers.  Don't go anywhere - there are definitely more tricks up my sleeve!

I could almost be a vegetarian...



The boys in my life had a craving for waffles last night, a craving I was more than happy to indulge with my trusty waffle iron and a $50 jug of maple syrup.  Now, I love me some waffles, but I'm not really interested in eating a plate of carbs and sugar for dinner, except for special occasions - like discovering a 1/2 pint of heavy cream that demands to be whipped into cream.  Since that was not the case last night, I decided to indulge myself with some gorgeous greens instead.

You know I'm a huge fan of beets, and the love affair between me and broccoli rabe is well documented.  Naturally, the joining of these two beautiful veggies was nothing less than inspired - and fast.  As usual, I began with some olive oil and garlic in a deep saute pan.  I got the garlic all golden and fragrant, then turned the heat to low and tossed in a chopped sweet onion to soften.  I washed the beet greens and rabe gave them a quick coarse chop and tossed them into the pan.  I don't dry the greens because I prefer to add a small amount of moisture to the pan to give the vegetables a little help in creating steam.  Also, there's the added complication that  I accidentally melted my salad spinner in the oven a couple of months ago - oops!  Now, cover the pan and walk away for a few minutes at this point, it's actually the perfect time to wipe the sticky syrupy remains from the dining table.  Grab a bowl (isn't there something sooo comforting about eating from a bowl?), drizzle with some balsamic vinegar and dig in.  If there are  leftovers, I think they would be excellent in an omelet or tossed with some pasta, but with a dish this is easy and tasty, there's no reason you can't work these healthy veggies into your rotation on a regular basis.  Delicious!

A $9 Billion Problem

image from: turbo.inquisitr.com

We're living in some crazy times, my friends.  Driving to work the other morning I was listening to the radio and heard about challenging union negotiations taking place in our country.  I'm sure you're aware of the chaotic circumstances in Wisconsin, Rhode Island and NYC, right?  The irony here, however, is that the emergency 24 hours extension in contract talks was not related to teachers, police officers or firefighters; instead the dilemma centered around the NFL and their players' union.  Take a minute to grab a box of tissues - you're going to need them.  You see, the National Football League is so incredibly profitable that last year they made $9 billion more than anticipated.  I would have written that figure out in numerals, but was concerned I wouldn't know how to express it with the correct number of  zeros.  Am I the only person who thinks it is absolutely absurd that a professional sports association  should make 9 BILLION dollars more than the greedy bastards had initially expected?  In a single year?

All over the country there is a growing anti-union fever.  Benefits such as salary, medical insurance, retirement, and job security relating to seniority, are being attacked and eliminated when possible.  Legislation is being written to facilitate the deterioration of employee agreements that had been achieved after decades of public employees accepting verbal appreciation for their contributions to society, rather than monetary rewards for their efforts.    Professional public servants (Servants!  Now I understand where this phrase comes from) are being asked to forgo agreed upon salary increases for the sake of these difficult economic times - a reasonable request as our country tries to regain a sense of productivity and stability in a world gone mad for consumption.  I certainly am not an economist, and I would never claim to be an expert in anything that pertains to finances, but I am puzzled by this situation.  Can someone please explain to me how stripping benefits from educators came to be perceived as the solution to a crisis created by those with much more lucrative professions?  Do football players and the billionaire franchise owners really contribute more to American society than educators and public safety employees?  Did bankers from the top 5 U.S. banks really deserve to be awarded bonuses totalling more than $119 billion dollars in 2010?  Why aren't they being asked to sacrifice benefits or to justify their  contributions to the community?  I wish I had more answers than questions - as well as the problem of how to divide $9 billion.  God bless America.

Flowers in the Museum - not in the attic.

How about that Steven Tyler? I have to admit, he has made watching American Idol fun all over again with his crazy exclamations and genuine respect for the contestants. But, this posting isn't about AI - it is about the annual NYS Museum Flower I attended last weekend, like I attend this event every single year. The organizers really know what they're doing by planning this display of gorgeousness at a time of the year not known for much local natural beauty. My favorite part of this show, aside from the recipient of the proceeds (the after school program hosted by the museum), is the clever way the flower designers take cues from the installations, both permanent and temporary. My favorite year for this show was when it coincided with a quilt show - amazing combinations of riotous colors and patterns were present that particular year, believe me. Overall, I enjoyed the show, as always, although I did miss seeing pieces by Renaissance, a florist which generally has a pretty large presence at this event. Anyone else go this year? Maybe I just missed David Schmidt's work somehow? A gloomy day like today is the perfect time to feast your eyes on the slideshow of pictures I took. At least that's how I'm trying to justify the delay in posting the pictures - see I wasn't unmotivated, I was saving them for you!

NYS Museum Flower Show

Fenway Park - (Forgive me, Thurman)

Although there isn't an appropriate box to check off on a census form, I have been in a mixed marriage.  You see, Tom is a Red Sox fan and I am a lifelong Yankee fan.  It really wasn't a problem for us since the two older boys had been equally divided. As is the case in most things, Quinn will be our ultimate wildcard once he pledges allegiance to a team.  I'll try to not lobby too hard and just hope that he has a natural affinity to go with the team that has a presence in my  hometown - Derek Jeter's mother is part of a large family which summered in GWL and he purchased and completely renovated their family compound a number of years ago, making him a Laker, just like me!  If you ever get to Greenwood Lake, N.Y. take the west shore road (Jersey Avenue for you non locals) and drive almost to the New Jersey border.  Make a left and you'll see his place on your right - and keep your distance please.  Celebrity stalking is so last year.

Rivalries aside, last week Griffin and I travelled to Boston for a quick getaway.  Ok, nothing is quick when it begins with an Amtrak ride (6 hours to get to Boston with the hour delay  factored in.  Really? 6 hours?), but it was a rather condensed visit.  We arrived late Thursday, dropped our bags off at our hotel and grabbed a quick, late dinner at the Capital Grille.  Friday morning, while Albany was getting hammered with snow, Boston was pounded by torrential rain.  Or, as I came to think of it, the tears of Thurman Munson were falling furiously upon us as I ventured into the enemy zone. 

We arrived at the ballpark in the late morning and bought tickets for the 11:00 a.m. tour.  We met our rather colorful tour guide in the gigantic gift shop and allowed him to share his extensive knowledge of the team, the ballpark as well as some pretty bad jokes.  When I asked him if there was a bathroom nearby, (thinking there might be an electric handdryer which I could use to dry my soaking wet hair), he informed me that there might be a restroom mid-way through the tour.  We found a  common ground of humor when I told him I wouldn't be opposed to pissing on the field in a true emergency.  He assured me it wouldn't be the first time that happened and we were on our way. The tour took approximately an hour and included a walk around a good bit of the park and the chance to sit in some pricy seats on the Green Monster.  I have to tell you, it is a fabulous ballpark.  I've only been to a couple of major league ballparks over the years (neither of which still exist), so it isn't as if I have a lot of ballpark experience, but this place did feel special.    Our guide did a great job of being entertaining, informative and borderline inappropriate and I learned some cool things.  For instance, the numbers on the side of the exterior wall were not, as I teased Griffin, the string of numbers from Lost, but instead were the handful of numbers permanantly retired by the team.  These same numbers appear inside the stadium behind right field and if you were to enlarge the photo above you would see that the number on the far right, #42, is a different color than all the other numbers.  That would be Jackie Robinson's number - and it will be his number forever because in 1997 MLB decided to completely retire that number.  Pretty cool, right? 

Despite the drenching rain and the uneasy feelings of disloyalty I experienced, I must tell you, I thoroughly enjoyed the tour and have nothing but respect for the ball field.  What happens on the ball field, however, is a completely different story.  Only 27 more days until opening day - go Yankees!

David Gray ~ Beacon Theater

                                         

About 20 years ago, when I was still in a position to make rules for "Living Silvia Style," I decided that I would never decline an opportunity to experience something new.  Other than ecstasy or other recreational drugs, that is.  As for those substances, thanks, but I'm not interested, even when it is a famous actor offering, however, that's another story.  To return to the story at hand, last week one of my best friends provided me the chance to:

• hang out with she and another dear friend of many, many years.
• visit NYC for a night, 
• check out a performer whom I've never seen before at one of my favorite venues, the Beacon Theater.

In general, the night was an educational experience for me.  For instance, I had no idea that "reluctant driver friend" doesn't have a clue about parallel parking - even when it means paying $55 to park in a convenient garage.  Guess I know what to get her for Christmas next  year - parking lessons!  Amazingly enough we scored a parking spot just west of Broadway at a cost of $2.50, which left a nice surplus for our eating and drinking budget.  Which, was a good thing as we walked a block north on Amsterdam and found our way into a pub that had terrific food matched perfectly with a nice beer selection.  The Amsterdam Ale House is one of those joints that to the uninitiated can cause a bit of angst.  You know, a place that has a promising menu and a cool ambiance but just may not be able to execute.  As we perused the food menu and ordered beers (yum, Ommegang Rare Vos on tap!), we witnessed a nearby table receive their meals and quickly decided to copy them and it was burgers all around.  We did not regret our decision - including our eclectic choice of mixing up our sides so could experience all that was offered: fries, onion rings and sweet potato fries.  Why choose when you can have everything?  We also shared an excellent salad of field greens with walnuts and crunchy rounds of fried goat cheese - a perfect starter course for three.  No disappointment at all.  Our night was going well...

After dinner we walked around the corner and got settled into our seats for David Gray's opening act, Lisa O'Neill.  I'm going to be honest here (as if I'm ever less than that!) and say that I just didn't love her.  As a matter of fact, after a couple of songs we decided that the bottle of Maker's Mark at the bar held more appeal than her performance.  Go ahead - shoot me.  Sorry.  I'd be willing to give her another listen but it just wasn't working for me that night.

David Gray, however, was a joy to listen to.  For me, his songs when played lived didn't demand undivided attention but instead provided an easy background harmony to enjoy the company of my dearest friends.  You're probably familiar with his biggest hit, Babylon, but do yourself a favor and give his latest release, Foundling, a listen.  The lyrics are poignant and his voice beautifully melodic and haunting.  I really love the words he sings in A Moment Changes Everything:

The stolen glances, broken threads

The visions looming in our heads

The years spent running parallel

To everything that might of been

                                                         

I'm not spending a lot of time these days looking backwards, but will take those words with me into the future wherever it may lead. Hopefully, additional opportunities to see David Gray are part of that future.

Time Travel

image from colemanzone.com

If you had a choice between stepping into a Time Machine and travelling to either the past or the future - what would you decide?  I'm not talking about jetting to a particular time period or era - what I mean is, would you jump into your own personal past or future?  I've been thinking about this fantastical journey in time as I absorb the sadness of a valiant attempt fallen short.  Myself, I'm undecided.  Would it be more valuable to revisit the past and make decisions that would prove to be less damaging or, would I prefer to jump ahead 6 months to a time when  emotions have hopefully been smoothed to a less raw state?

 I'm attempting to own my actions, both laudable and despicable.  I don't think I've ever claimed innocence with regards to my "personal" life but. in case you have the false impression that I've never shared a kiss with someone other than my husband, allow me to be clear here: I am an imperfect human being and I've done things that were clearly beyond the boundaries of traditional marriage.  Am I proud of this?  Of course, not.  I try not to spend a lot of time with self-loathing (and I have an ability to justify and rationalize my actions), but I must consider why I felt less than satisfied.  Is it an unrealistic expectation for marriage?  A desire for something new and exciting?  An unmet need that simply won't go away?  I don't really know - perhaps it is all of the above.  Maybe it is an unavoidable awareness that numbness should not be confused with contentment.  That creating a family with a person you love deeply does not necessarily translate into happily ever after and that sometimes, just sometimes, staying together holds the promise of more hurt rather than a cessation of pain. 

Ripping a bandage off and exposing a wound to light and air is not for everyone.  I understand that and find myself frequently apologizing for revealing more than is comfortable for others.  I don't do it to malign or rally support or to create a platform for my position.  Instead, I bare my thoughts and feelings as an exercise in expression, as well as an attempt to explore the thread of humanity that I truly believe connects all of us.  To write is no longer an option for me, but a compulsion.  To read, however, is your choice.