pomegranatesandpaper

This Time of Year and A Girl's Fancy

 

food stylist: Betti Zucker

 

From my bed I can see the snow flying sideways across my window. The wind is howling  in the eaves and our chimney cover is banging like a bass drum. We are warm and cozy, though, with the fire lit, the dogs at our side and that first sacramental cup of coffee in our hands. 

I took a few days off for my birthday. I usually don't do so since, in case you live in Shangri la and have missed this winter, a cold, overcast, grimy frozen tundra day is not my ideal personal day off. This year, however, I decided to take a long weekend, weather be damned. 

My family was adorable at making sure that they brought the sunshine to me. 

 

The Empress used to call this type of baby schmutziness "swibbee"

 

Mr. Pom took a day off from work (and those that know him understand the import), and we hopped into the city. He left it up to me to plan the day, which meant we went right to Dick Blick on the Lower East Side for their 20% off everything in the store. Considering, I only bought a new watercolor journal and some cute Valentine stuff for friends, along with a few pens. 

 

We walked to Gemma's on the Bowery, a brunch place you cannot get into on the weekends, and had a gorgeous brunch under a huge Tuscan chandelier.  

 

Since it was my birthday, we ordered a starter of toast with Nutella. I still do not understand how this is possible, but Mr. Pom declared that he had never eaten Nutella in his lifetime. Huh? I think our pantry has seen about a dozen bottles in just the left 5 years.  He declared it, "Okay". (Proof that there are still new discoveries and mysteries even after 34 years.  He is a cypher.

I , however, had to restrain myself not to lick clean the compote of hazelnut chocolate goodness. I could have sat there all day and just ordered more coffee, please, and read the paper. 

 

 

 

I contemplated taking that little log cabin syrup bottle, but discretion prevailed. 

 

 

However, even poached eggs with proscuitto on brioche  could not keep me at table long when John Derian's shops were around the corner.  In three small storefronts are some of the most beautiful goods in the city.  Derian became famous for his brilliant vintage ephemera decoupaged plates, huge glass cake stand covers, coasters,  serving pieces, and more.  He appears to scour Britain for antiques that range from lighting sconces that must have come from 200 years old highland manor houses, stick style frames, vintage prints, and thus, everything I am in love with.

 

 

 

The first shop is his decoupage and a smattering of prints, luscious imported journals with French made watercolor paper, and all sorts of ephemera. I did not buy the French journal as it was quite expensive and I had just ordered two handmade journals from my friend LK Ludwig. but I'll be back in the spring!

 

 

 

 

The middle shop is vintage furniture, most reupholstered with his amazing range of antique textile, and the last shop, be still my heart, is filled to the brim with textile from around the world.

 

At one point, as we waited for a lovely young woman to cut us 5 yards of ticking to reupholster Mr. Pom's Morris chair, I looked at my husband of 34 years and said that my birthday would be complete if they left me along in the store and I could wrap   my naked self for a nap in French antique linen with a Shibori-covered pillow under my head and a hand-painted silk scarf around my neck.

 

 

He took me by the elbow and led me out the door. 

 

Then we took a wild ride through Williamsburg to pick up a vegan birthday cake ordered by the nursing Mama. She was making me a birthday dinner of pan-roasted chicken and maple syrup glazed carrots, and she deservedly wanted a non-dairy cake that she could eat, too. After a few missed turns we ended up in front of a tiny, tiny bake shop, Clementines, and took home a vanilla raspberry cake that was covered in coconut icing that was the most delicious icing I have ever eaten. And I've eaten a lot of icing over the decades!

So it was a wonderful day.

And the party did not stop there! All of us are going to the The Water Club for brunch tomorrow. I  intend to feed Squishy mashed banana and some avocado and a tiny bit of something sweet cause its his grandma's birthday and she can do whatever she wants. 

 

Completely gratuitous baby picture. 

 

If you are anywhere but  Palm Springs, and thus, we are ignoring you with a VERY cold shoulder here in the Northeast land of Sunday into Monday blizzards and below zero temps, I hope you are cozy and have a bit of stitchery in your hands if not a pen and paper or a paintbrush. 

I leave tomorrow for a week in Chicago  for work. Only I could go to a place colder than here for February break.  I'm off to buy some new pants since I have managed to take off 35 pounds since this time last year and Mr. Pom said I look like I'm wearing clown pants and go buy some new ones. Why yes, dear, I will! 

Try to keep out of trouble, though I'm sure I'll pop in after hours during the week. 

Sitting with Winter

 

It's awful, I know. The cold temperatures, the hazardous driving, the dark evenings, and the mounds of hardened snow and icy patches everywhere. Going outside to go anywhere becomes an Extreme Sport rather than just daily living.

But it can't always be Summer (though I suppose it can in parts of the world, and I can tell you that I grew mighty sick of it when we lived in California). 

Extremes are exciting and terrifying and never monotonous. Even the limbo of cold and snow forcing me indoors is not the worst thing I have ever suffered. In fact, I am learning to sit with winter.

In the spring and autumn, we sometimes go to the Cape several weekends in a row. Last spring we were having work down inside the cottage and we had to check on progress, write checks, and order supplies. I can tell you that as much as I love it there, spending 8 to 10 hours of every weekend in a car and having about 12 hours of actual awake time to enjoy the weekend made us pretty cranky and exhausted. I do not recommend it. 

 

 

I have learned to appreciate and savor our weekend at home almost more than our Cape weekends. There is something so relaxing and quite delicious about knowing that I do not have to get in a car on and battle traffic in the dark on I95 on a Friday night. Instead, we can go out to dinner or, like this Friday night, order sushi and pick up a bottle of wine and watch a movie in front of the fireplace.

I like waking up in our own bed on a Saturday morning. It's nice to have time to gather the dry cleaning,  sort through the mail, and put in the closet all the shoes and boots I've discarded under tables, by the sofa, or in the middle of the room where Mr. Pom falls over them in the middle of the night.  Frankly, it is fun just to be in my own house in daylight for more than the hour before I shower, put on make up, try on 5 outfits, and then run out the door for the twelve-hour day.  Helps me notice that the plants need to be not only watered but dusted. 

 

 

Of course, there's plenty to occupy us if we wish. There's that cellar waiting to be cleaned out - save it for winter, I said last summer, when Mr. Pom was making noises about what is all this crap and boxes that haven't been opened in the fourteen years we've lived here. Oh, and there's that call to the paitner I promised to make as soon as the holidays were over as every bedroom needs to be painted and oy, that entails lots of furniture, clothes, and books with nowhere to go. 

Saturday mornings, we usually  talk about going out to dinner later, using the gift certificates the kids having given us for fancy restaurants, or perhaps to the movies that night. We rarely get there.  We shudder at the thought of gloves, boots, sweaters, and coats, and the afternoon turns to dusk and we just laze around.

Today, I actually took a nap in the middle of the afternoon under the covers in my bed with one lab across my middle and the other butted up against my legs.  It was impossible to sleep, however in that position, so I roused myself to go downstairs, made a a little platter of aged gouda, parmigiano reggiano, and some slices of oranges that J brought us from Florida, and  shared it with Mr. Pom who was watching the Ranger game. I got out a The Paris Wife, which I just started, lit the fire, put a shawl on my legs, and sat with him. 

I was asleep in ten minutes in the chair.  

Sitting with winter is a balm to the soul and body. 

The sweetest part of our at-home weekends have slowly evolved this winter.  I find myself in the art room more than ever. I've organized it more (tho still needs much work!), gathered all my newest art books and magazines onto the shelves stacked on the big desk, and sorted through all the watercolors and gouache and separated them into an old cheese box and a cigar box. I pulled all the unused journals I have in various places so they are right in front of me, and ripped down lots of watercolor paper and toned paper into strips that I've folded into accordion books.  

 

 

 

In other words, I actually have a room that is neat and orderly enough to attract me to sit there and watch the snow fall, listen to music, and paint. After supper on Saturday night, I go back in to finish up some painting. Mr. Pom sits in his man cave on the other side of the wall, and reads and listens to music. I listen to a book on Audible on my phone and we check in on each other as the evening progresses to see if the other wants anything from down stairs, or whether the other would like to be  serenade the other by belting out an Adele tune (me) that I hear him playing. It is a nice little cap on the mid weekend and definitely one of those times I imagined happening when I wondered what it would be like when all the kids were out of the house. 

 

 

Best of all, we had a quick playdate with Squishy in the late afternoon and the Graphic Designer was here  with her girlfriend and we all made Squishy chuckle out loud, which is really the best possible thing in the world. 

 

 

Tomorrow, I am making brunch for the kids.   Apparently, though, there are no groceries, so it will be a busy morning while I rush out to shop, then cook, and serve. I will be sure to have some mashed banana or applesauce for Squishy, who has discovered solid food and will not be pleased if we are all munching on waffles wilst he looks on.

May your Sunday start with a good cup of coffee, something crunchy and hot, a brisk walk with a two-legged friend, and a pile of newspapers waiting to be read.