Home...

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.

Tradition!

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

Winter Wonder Lark

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?

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.

The Art of Running in the Rain

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.

Tradition(less)

For too many years to count, Christmas Eve has meant an elaborate meal, conceived and prepared by yours truly, usually for a crowd of 12-16. However, like many other things this year, the celebration of Christmas Eve demanded something different, something a little more simple.  The obvious solution: Chinese Food and Champagne.  

At 4:00 in the afternoon, I calmly called CCK and placed our order for a 6:30 delivery time.  People - this is how you do it on a holiday.  Call early and get your order in, trust me, it makes things so much nicer for all involved.  The size of our order bordered on obscene: a whole Peking Duck (served with buns, crackers, scallions and plum sauce), a hot pot of seafood, bean curd and vegetables, steamed pork dumplings, har kow, fried squid with hot peppers and salt, hot and sour soup, Chinese broccoli, sesame chicken (for Q, it's his favorite) and an amazing beef satay chow fun, all washed down with bottles of Nicolas Feuillatte Champagne.  You do know that Champagne and Chinese are a natural pairing, right?  

Did I miss my usual houseful of friends?  Yes, without a doubt their absence was duly felt and noticed.  Did I embrace the food, friends and family in attendance, with sincerity and grace?  Absolutely.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

I've always been a Christmas card person, even more so since having my children.  Each November I hope for inspiration and begin planning the annual missive.  I've got things down to an art - the addresses of the recipients are saved and printed onto labels, the boys generally cooperate on photo day and sometimes even help with preparing the envelopes, and I try to get everything in the mail by early December.  Just in case you haven't been on the Christmas List - here's some of what you've been missing.  All the best to you and yours for a peaceful and most Merry Christmas.  Silvia

cutting, glue and glitter - something parents of 1 child (sometimes) have time to do

Thatcher Park ~ 2000

what a somber Christmas that was...

the results of a mixed marriage: Red Sux Sox vs. Yankees

2006

2007

2008

2010

Christmas Tree Hunting

choices...

After the reprieve created by that little ice thing a week ago Sunday, this past Saturday, by default, became the day of our annual tree hunting expedition.  We've been going to the same farm for about 5 years or so and couldn't be happier with the tree selection or the $20 price. I prefer to keep the name of the place a secret - bet you didn't think I even knew how to do that, but I'll give you a hint...it's on the other side of the river, sort of by Burden Lake.  Burden Lake - what does that even mean?  Does anyone have some information regarding how Burden Lake got its name?  If so, perhaps we can make a trade. 

beautiful vista

The ideal length of time, in my opinion, to be a slave to pine needles everywhere is about 2 weeks, which puts us right in the sweet spot of tolerance.  That ice event was actually a gift from the heavens which made delaying the acquisition of another semi-alive thing in my house an act of God instead of Goddess (aka me).  We were definitely a little late to the game and encountered a fair number of stumps in the field, but, after trudging through the surprisingly deeper than expected snow for about 20 minutes,  we located the perfect tree.  Again.  You see, I say that every single year.  It is one of my standard holiday Christmas phrases along with "I'm never doing Christmas cards again," "This is the last year I'm leaving my house on Christmas Day," and "I'm done shopping.  The boys aren't getting another thing."  I am consistent - sometimes. 

do they look like tree killers?

This wonderful little tree farm provides saws and rope and in no time, that tree was tied to the roof of my car heading to its final new home in the DelSo.  This year's tree is a little skinny, but beautifully shaped and, once again, I think we picked the perfect tree.  Actually, it is so beautiful that I can't wait to see it  spread its beauty far and wide in the form of mulch.  But, until that day (1/1/11) when we offer it up to the curb, I will insist that it be plugged in from morning til night, as a beacon to the ho-ho-holidays.

before

after

Scone call - for you.

yeah - i made these.

I got myself into a bit of a baking frenzy this weekend.  It started Saturday morning at about 5 a.m. with 2 loaves of bread, a mushroom and spinach quiche and a mess of scones. See what happens when I stay in on a Friday night?  Productivity!  This was my first time using this recipe for scones and I was very pleased with the results.  Of course, I didn't exactly stick to the recipe, but I did get inspired by it, which seems close enough.  I made 2 variations - to one batch I added sliced almonds, dried cherries, dried blueberries and almond extract instead of vanilla, the other batch contained craisins, chopped dried apricots and dried blueberries and vanilla extract.  I sprinkled regular granulated white sugar on the tops of the scones instead of oats and raw sugar.  They were straight-up delicious - not too sweet, surprisingly light and not dry at all.  They would be perfect for Christmas morning - hint, hint.

Blueberry Oat Scones

3 cups all purpose flour

1/3 cup (packed) golden brown sugar

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

3/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

11 tablespoons (1 stick plus 3T)  chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

1 cup plus 3 T old-fashioned oats

1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries (about 5 1/2 ounces)

1 3/4 cups chilled half and half

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

5 teaspoons raw sugar
Preparation

• Position 1 rack in top third and 1 rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 350°F. Line 2 rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper.
• Combine flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and coarse salt in processor; blend 5 seconds. Add butter. Using on/off turns, blend until mixture resembles coarse meal. Transfer mixture to large bowl. Add 1 cup oats and blueberries; stir to blend evenly.
• Stir half and half and vanilla in small bowl. Gradually add to flour mixture, tossing until dough just comes together (dough will be very moist).
• Using 1/2-cup measuring cup for each scone, drop dough in mounds onto prepared baking sheets, spacing 3 inches apart. Sprinkle tops with remaining 3 tablespoons oats, then raw sugar.
• Bake 15 minutes. Reverse sheets and continue baking until scones are golden and tester inserted into center from side comes out clean, about 12 minutes longer. Transfer scones to rack and cool slightly. Serve warm or at room temperature.

My favorite Lark Street event - The Santa Speedo sprint.

I've loved Lark Street ever since I moved to Albany 20+ years ago.  When I was first visited the area and found myself having brunch at the Beverwyck, I knew that Center Square was where I wanted to be and concentrated my housing search in that neighborhood.  I like the architecture, the shops and restaurants, the wide sidewalks which are often filled with characters and personalities, the cool city feel when residential and business meld together...  It just all adds up for me.  The only time I don't like Lark Street is during Lark Fest - I just can't abide the public drunkenness and sloppiness.  I'm all about having a good time, you know that, but is it really necessary to get falling down, publicly urinating drunk?  I find it more than a bit repulsive (like old guys and young girls, icky), and generally avoid attending Lark Fest, Lark Street's biggest event of the year.  Fortunately, however, I've found a new Lark Street party which I am more than willing to attend; the Santa Speedo Sprint.  Although this year's run was the 5th annual, it was the first that I've witnessed and I had a blast.  The crowd was fun, spirits were high and the sun was shining.  People were definitely in a partying mood, but there weren't any of those rednecks who seem to populate other Lark street events.  You know, the folks who apparently only have access to alcohol one day a year and are therefore committed to consuming enough booze to hold them over for 365 days, those people.  Anyway - none of those people were there and, in their place, were really fun Albanians celebrating an event that manages to combine festivity with charity.  And, isn't that what the holidays are all about?



Santa Speedo Run 2010

Cue Etta James...At last...

Where to begin? That I needed a vacation (or detox) after my recent school break? That we had some excellent food in the month of December? That, for the first time ever, I was sad to see the holidays end? That I failed (sort of) to live up to my lofty goal of baking for 12 neighbors?

I'll begin at the beginning - a very fine place to start, btw. When I reflected upon why I was so exhausted after not having been to school in more than 10 days, I realized that I had only been home 2 nights during that entire time. No mystery there, Nancy Drew! Of course one of those 2 nights was Christmas Eve when we (you owe me, Tom, for even considering that you assisted in the food prep/serving) hosted a dinner party, not exactly "downtime."

I will explicate on the good food in more detail later, but suffice it to say that McGuire's and Cafe Capriccio laid it down - we thoroughly enjoyed our meals at both of these establishments.

I believe that my fond feelings for the Christmas season were created by my insistence that we not travel on the actual day of Christmas. It changed everything for me, and what has previously been a dreaded day of too little sleep and too much driving, became instead a lovely relaxed day, followed 2 days later with a happily anticipated visit with family. *sigh* It was really nice. Next year's calendar, of course, will have the holidays falling on different days of the week, but we will make our best effort to remain at home on the years that we must work December 26th.

About my baking extravaganza...I completely underestimated how many other things would be going on (or simply overestimated my abilities :)), things that would prevent me from continuing to bake. I definitely provided more than 12 families with home-baked goods, however, they weren't all in the DelSo. I will revisit this goal next year - actually, I will resolve to meet this goal in 2010. There - a New Year's Resolution!

Christmas Eve & Christmas Day in the DelSo

Christmas Eve was a food-filled extravaganza! From the delicious antipasti items from Cardona's (stuffed olives, prosciutto, spicy sopressata) to the 5 year aged gouda from the Honest Weight, we started the evening on a high note. I must admit, I was on my game and the herb-encrusted rack of lamb I roasted was AMAZING! We bought the lamb from Falvo's in Slingerlands and it was absolutely delicious - tender, flavor-filled, perfect. Before we tucked into the tiramisu we enjoyed a walk around the neighborhood and snapped some photos of the beautifully decorated homes in the 'hood.

Christmas Day we were up by 7 a.m. dealing with 3 excited boys, who had a very satisfying Christmas haul. I got a great gift - the opportunity to go back to bed and read and doze for a couple of hours. It was the promise of bagels from The Uncommon Grounds complete with smoked salmon and Porto Rico Importers coffee that finally got me moving. We walked to the Spectrum for a matinee of Sherlock Holmes (lots of fun - looking forward to the sequel already!) and finished our neighborhood trek with cocktails at New World. I seriously don't know another area of Albany that is blessed with so many fine options for entertainment and eating/drinking. It has been a good year for the DelSo!