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October 2012
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December 2012

The First Weekend of December

Yes, I am working long hours, coming home after work to spend a few hours working on my next art proposal, and Christmas shopping.

 

But that doesn't mean I don't have time to create a little magic:

 


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Oooooooh - it's like a Harry Potter photograph. 

 

Going to Brooklyn tomorrow for this with The Bride and Mr. Pom and without Micalangela (who is home to work on a big final project - don't feel badly for her - we bought her a good dinner and gave her a large cappuccino to finish it off) :

 

 

 

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This is an event organized by the local NY Etsy peeps!

 

In the evening, I am going to a concert that was postponed from the end of October due to Hurricane Sandy:

 

IngridMichaelson2012WEB

Yes - Ingrid Michaelson!!!!

A MUSIC HALL/MUSIC WITHOUT BORDERS CO-PRESENTATION, SUPPORTED BY 107.1 THE PEAK
Special Guest: Greg Laswell
With her piano-fueled songwriting, witty wordplay, and ethereal voice, Ingrid Michaelson carries the tradition of the female singer/songwriter into the 21st century. Befitting a musician of the digital age, Michaelson first gained wide exposure through spots on TV soundtracks, including Grey's Anatomy and One Tree Hill. In 2012, Michaelson returned with her fifth studio album, Human Again, featuring the single, "Ghost."

I can't wait to see this concert and adding to my excitement, I am going with one of my oldest friends from college, who before a few months ago, I hadn't seen in probably 30 years.  So wonderful to "find" her - living 10 minutes from me - and to have her want to see the same artists that I do.  Love you, Carolyn!

And then on Sunday, a special day to spend with a friend who is moving far, far away..... bittersweet, but so happy for her to be going home. 

I am also working on a longer blog post about some great ART and DESIGN books that you MUST have for Christmas. Check back soon.

 

What a weekend!


Thanksgiving Weekend

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We saw our first snow today. I was upstairs in my art room when I heard Micalangela yell up, "Look out the window!" A band of flurries was passing through,  light enough that I had to look for a few seconds to spot a flake, but heavy enough to confirm that it was indeed the change of season.  If the snow was  not enough notice, the fading light at 4:30 p.m. sends us scurrying to switch on lamps and the dogs begin to pace reproachfully because they do not understand why the food bowls are not being filled if it is getting dark. 

The Saturday after Thanksgiving and I've barely left the house since I came home from work midday Wednesday, laden with last minute groceries and pumpkin-colored tapers. Micalangela was right behind, fresh off the train, and Sister #2 appeared to be the sous chef. Sister #4's family was coming for Thanksgiving and since she was preparing most of the pies, the mashed potatoes and the sweet, the most  labor intensive dish I had to prepare is the cornbread chestnut stuffing. I usually finish my grocery shopping the weekend before and make the cornbread and slice the baguettes two days in advance to have them sufficiently dried out for the stuffing. This year, since we went to Cape Cod last weekend, everything was being done the night before.

 

Stuffing

 

 

The most important part of the stuffing is the chestnuts. Let's just say that in my family, the reason for the cornbread, the fresh herbs, and the sauteed carrots is just to provide a bed for the chestnuts. In years past,  Mr, Pom and I have have spent Thanksgiving Eve in a chestnut roasting and peeling assembly line. He scores them; I throw a batch in the oven and some in the  microwaves; we both peel  while they are still warm so they don't stick to the papery lining; and repeat for several hours. One year, my hands were so numb that Mr. Pom had to take over the chopping for fear I'd slice my hands off.

A few years ago,  Micalangela was working at a gourmet cafe and her boss introduced me to vacuum-packed, roasted, peeled chestnuts. It was like the gift of the Magi in its convenience, but I was wary of the flavor. I used them with trepidation the first year, and no one had a clue. A quick dicing on the cutting board, a fast glazing with butter, and I can throw them into the stuffing mixture without working up a sweat.  Horribly behind in my prep this year, I ran through the grocery store on a mission: get vacuum packed chestnuts, but they were nowhere to be found. The store manager sadly informed me that they hadn't gotten them in this year and with a cart full of groceries, feet hurting in office high heels, stomach grumbling for dinner, I ran back to the produce counter, threw about 4 pounds of enormous chestnuts that cost a king's ransom into a bag and checked out.  

 

Menu

 

 

What can I do?  Without the chestnuts, I might as well make a loaf of cornbread with herbs with a dish of sauteed carrots on the side.  So even though the chestnuts cost almost as much as the turkey,  tradition, especially this year, is tradition.

By the time I got home, Sister #5 had stopped by. She was making a chestnut stuffing, too. And oh yes, Stop & Shop had racks and racks of vacuum packed chestnuts - and they were on sale for $1.50 a bag! I went into the kitchen, threw half of the chestnuts into a ziplock bag and gave them to her for her fruit and nut course, and headed to Stop & Shop for 6 bags of prepared chestnuts. Those big glossy ones that I put in a decorative, glass pedestal dish to save for eating? They molded over by Thursday morning and I threw them all in the garbage.

 

 

Table

 

It was that kind of holiday: we rolled with the punches.  There was the usual pressure of getting the shrimp cleaned, the artichokes trimmed,  the silver polished, but there was no franticness, no raised voices, no exhaustion that resulted in a holiday migraine. I think those days finally are past me. I needed my mom to be gone to realize that the worst thing that could happen to a holiday  had already happened and there was absolutely nothing I could do to reverse it.  I couldn't rush out and get a vacuum packed anything that would save the day. We had to not just make do, but do it right. Despite everything that argued against having Thanksgiving occur for the first time in my 57 years without my mother seated at the table, it was going to happen and the family was looking at the sisters to pull it together and do it right.

 

Pie

 

Tonight,  the last of the leftovers were had for lunch by the kids and the dishwasher that has run twice a day is taking care of the last of the dirty Tupperware.  I've only left the house for a haircut and to buy a roast beef to suppplement the leftovers for dinner last night when we celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary at home with the family. We've  totally ignored Black Friday in real time or cyber. We've eaten every meal together, sometimes on paper plates in front of the TV watching old sitcoms on Hulu.   The table is ready to have the dirty cloth stripped off, Micalangela is working on a paper, and Mystery Man is getting antsy to go home.

It looks like a normal post-holiday weekend.

We did it right, Mom.

And you haven't left our minds for a minute.

 

 

 

 


Queen of the Window Garden

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After 12 days of darkness and cold, we spent the weekend in our warm, bright house, vacuuming two weeks of dog hair, scrubbing the kitchen, running the washing machine, and lying for  more than a few hours on the sofa with a quilt and the remote control. As harrowing as it was to be without light and heat for that long, we were so lucky that there was no physical damage to any person or house on our street and that we had family to go to when we couldn’t take one more night with our breath visible in the house.
 
The unintended side effect is that I am more than ready to begin making my Thanksgiving menu, to refill my freezer and refrigerator, to make a grocery list that includes walnuts, chestnuts, pomegranates, and cranberries, and to buy paper plates that say “Gobble” and silly little placecards to bring a festive, frivolous air to a day that may hang heavy in our hearts.
 
I potted up my first Amaryllis of the season on Friday. It is only a little nub,with  not more than a 1/8 of an inch of sprout peeking out from the bulb, but with the forcing of blooms, the anticipation is half again as much fun as the reality. These ugly bulbs produce such extravagant blooms and they have become  my harbinger of the season. By the time it is in full bloom, we should have reached the Winter Solstice and I will need to move the pot a quarter turn each day to keep it straight and true.  The stalk is thick but hollow and I usually stake it up when it begins to bloom so that the heavy head of trumpet-like blossoms do not cause it  to fall over, or worse, break in half.
 
The variety of Amaryllis  that are bred to be forced at Christmas belongs to the genus Hippeastrum, and originated in South America. They require little care other than moist but not wet soil and a good orientation to light and cool air. The bulbs are inexpensive and give quite a big bang for the $7.99 that the supermarket sells them for, along with the potting medium and a small plastic pot. Recently, a big  supermarket opened next to the office and I am hopeful that they may have some simple clay pots that I can use as jardinières.
 
I like marking the beginning of the season of darkness with this simple ritual. I try to pot up one a week for three weeks, starting around mid-November.  They will bloom in succession, so for at least one week after the first of the year, arguably the most depressing time, I should have 3 in bloom at once. This year I was able to find a white, a scarlet, and a peppermint, which satisfies my need for logical order (that which I have a hard time shaking when creating artwork). I keep them on the windowsill in front of the large windows in my office. 
 
After first potting, the bulbs sit dormant for a week or so, then suddenly there is an inch or more of slender green that pops out of the top of the bulb. The real magic begins the first time I walk into the office in the morning and find the stem has shot up a good six inches overnight and the flower buds have begun to form. Once the huge, brightly colored flowers begin to open, they attract everyone into the office with an exclamation of awe and I  feel like quite the Gertrude Jekyll while all if did was add warm water to a potting mixture and plop a large, ugly bulb down into it and remember to water sparingly.  

  I can’t help but smile when I walk in and see them in all their extravagance lushness, so bold, so bright, so showy, so full of themselves.   As much as I enjoy looking in magazines at homes decorated in restrained, sophisticated shades of silver and white or the palest turquoise and muted gold, I can never bring myself to be so subdued because a pop  of Cadmium red, Chromium Oxide green, and a Titanium white just fills me with joy.
 
I am concentrating only on these simple rituals this year: forcing blooms, making traditional dishes, decorating the tree with our 30-years’ worth of ornaments, and leaving the rest of the decorating for next year. In a way, it is a relief to have no expectations or ambitions for this holiday season other than for my sisters and our families to be together as much as possible and talk and share the dishes that we remember from our childhood.   I would be foolhardy to think we will continue in our traditions as we did before or that we can escape experiencing the season through anything but a scrim of sadness. However, while we  acknowledge our mourning, we must also acknowledge the beauty and joy of our family, that small knot of precious people who walked behind  my mother down the aisle for her last journey into the church.  Whenever I find myself raging inside, I make myself think of the long line of family that both my parents came from and the losses that they endured as they continued to make our holidays festive and memorable.
 
For Thanksgiving, the Bride has volunteered to take over the role of The Empress’s corn pudding and she is going to make Aunt Anita’s apple pie. I will make the lemon/lime/sour cream gelatin mold and my sister A and I will eat most of it ourselves. I will make sure that the Thanksgiving meal ends with a course of chestnuts and fruit, including a pomegranate and a prickly pear, just like the old days, but the shrimp course will still be served in the living room and not as a first course in the glass compotes that The Empress used, because we just are too lazy to hand wash them all, not to mention the lack of space to store them in.
 
I know that there will be moments when we each will be crying inside our heads, and moments when we will have to shore each otherup, but my hope is that if we keep our heads down, stay very quiet, and don’t draw attention to ourselves, that we will arrive in January unscathed, saddened but intact, and more grateful for the family that is left to sit at table and share the years as we turn ourselves to face the light.


Mrs. Miniver I'm Not

A hurricane hardly arrives at a convenient time, whatever the season or circumstances.  This one, though, had timing that seemed to add insult to injury. October was one of the hardest months our family has experienced and we thought we were almost clear...

 There's not much I can add to the story that you haven't read, seen, or listened to. Hundreds of thousands are affected; families lost; babies swept away; fires turn whole neighborhoods into ashes; and lower Manhattan is being reclaimed by the rivers that carved it out in the first place. So we can manage no power for a week or more since we know we have a roof over our head and the worst physical effect on us is gooseflesh.

We are still without power.  The tree that fell across the street was the sister to several others of the same vintage, one of which that fell about 5 years ago and left us without power for a week. When that one fell, other  neighbors hurried to take down their remaining ones but the  neighbor is 89 years old and I am sure she thought she would be gone before this tree was. She is from sturdy stock and even now, 7 days into no power, she refuses to leave her house.  Thankfully, her children are in and out and staying with her while her sons and friends and neighbors have rallied to dispose of as much as the tree as they safely can.

We hear about power restoration in areas when we venture out. Sounds like the areas with minimal damage are getting it back first.   What I don't miss: TV. What I do miss: light. What I don't mind: sitting in the living room with sheets over the doorways, dogs in front of the fire, and Mr. Pom reading by candlelight. What I do mind: Feeling stupid when I reach for a light switch so I can find the flashlight....

My sister, Maria, has had us for dinner every night, and spent almost all of Saturday there. It was a lovely day; I even painted and we had tea out of my mother's big ironstone teapot. An unexpected consequence of the hurricane is that our family has had time to be together more as work and school are suspended for some. It is clear to me that the next 7 weeks until the end of the year (how can it only be seven weeks???) will be rough for us and the only way to get through it is together. Lots of sitting around doing nothing and just being, talking, reminiscing. 

Hope to post more this week and even get some pics up. Takes too long to upload over the Starbucks internet.  Oh - just thought of another unintended hurricane side effect: I am taking the TV out of my bedroom when the lights go back on. I haven't missed TV ONE MINUTE. I'm finally reading some of those books I have piled up. Now I just have to work on the internet crack addiction......

 

Tell me: what is THE part of the Thanksgiving meal that you cannot live without? What is THE dish, entree, appetizier, dessert, etc., that without would mean it wasn't Thanksgiving for YOU?

For our family, it is definitely my mother's corn pudding. We all know how to make it, so I have this feeling that more than half the calories this year will be from Mom's Corn Pudding. I expect we will be making tons of it along with her lemon/lime/sour cream/ walnuts/mandarin oranges gelatin mold.