It’s True

This evening finds me feeling nearly back to normal. My right eye is fully open even though it is still puffy. My face remains swollen, forehead to collarbone, but nothing like it was yesterday or Thursday. The various colors of bruising emerged last night, but 24 hours later they remain blessedly muted. Because I now have only minor discomfort, I am no longer taking acetaminophen for pain. By the way, I never needed anything stronger than that plus ice packs for the swelling. Best of all, the wound reconstruction remains in excellent condition. The stitches will come out next week.

My surgery was Tuesday morning.
Today is Saturday.
This is being quite a swift and remarkable journey.

I thought hard before deciding to share the photo in the previous post. My only fear was that I might discourage someone from pursuing treatment. But I trusted my Mohs surgeon and all my research which told me that any postoperative consequences would be brief. I’ll have a bandage for a couple of weeks and a scar which will eventually quiet and fade. The basal cell carcinoma is gone and I will be screened regularly. Should another bcc appear I will schedule treatment immediately and know for sure that any discomfort really is temporary.

Sláinte!

Sláinte

Happy Birthday Chuck!

”Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear Chuck
Happy Birthday to you -
and many more!
Wheeeeeee!!!”

Thank you for riding the roller coaster with me for nearly a quarter of a century and most especially over this past year.
May I someday be as good a wife to you, as you are a wonderful husband to me!
L’Chaim!

Bye Bye BCC!

About a month ago I was diagnosed with a small basal cell carcinoma, just above my right eyebrow. It looked as if someone had dipped the top of a #2 pencil eraser in pink ink and daubed it on.

Today I underwent Mohs Micrographic Surgery to remove it. As of this moment I am very happily free of the bcc!

I first noticed the pink spot sometime in the autumn. (But, thanks to the arrival of Isabella, I have been able to look back in photos and see a very tiny spot at the end of August.) It looked to me like a similar reddish spot I’ve had unchanged on my face for years, so I thought nothing of it. Sometimes this new spot was dry; sometimes raw. I kept Noxzema on it (For me Noxzema is the equivalent of what Windex was to the father in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”!) and it seemed to calm down.

But in January, not even the Noxzema was soothing it so I headed to WebMD and viewed a skin problem slide show. After viewing the slides I was convinced it was an actinic keratosis. Being fair haired, fair skinned, blue eyed with a history of sunburns in childhood I knew that put me at risk. Because many doctors consider all actinic keratoses to be pre-cancerous, I called my primary care physician the very next day and saw him later in the week. He also thought it was an actinic keratosis but referred me to a dermatologist.

My dermatologist turned out to be great. He is smart, relaxed, kind and has a sense of humor. As soon as he took a close look at the spot he said he didn’t think it was an actinic keratosis, but a basal cell carcinoma. I said: “Well that’s not good.” to which he replied “Well, it’s not bad!”. A biopsy confirmed his eagle eyed diagnosis and I was scheduled for the Mohs surgery.

The Mohs doc who treated me today is exceptional. (Lately I have been on a roll in finding very good doctors!) Mohs surgery, named for Frederic E. Mohs, MD, was first performed back in the 1930s. A Mohs surgeon, usually a dermatologist, has an additional year of training before becoming a Mohs Fellow. If you think of the cancer as an iceberg, the specially trained doctor removes a thin slice of tissue off the top. It is marked precisely, frozen and examined under the microscope. Let’s say the left edge of the sample has a margin of healthy tissue. When the second slice is removed, more is taken from the right side. It too is marked and examined. These steps continue until all of the cancer is removed. Because of the thin layers and the level of precision, no roots of the cancer are left behind and the least possible amount of healthy tissue is taken.

To my amazement, all of my bcc was removed with the first slice! The challenge then for the doctor was how to close the wound. If he had simply pulled all the edges of the thumbnail size wound together I would have been left with a large pucker, plus it would have pulled my eyebrow up into a permanent state of skepticism and Dorothy Parker snarkiness. Happily I did not require a graft. Instead he decided on a teardrop shaped reconstructive flap which was “slid” into place and echoed the shape of my brow - quite brilliant actually.

Chuck was able to be with me for every step of the procedure, which was an enormous gift. And my doc was perfectly comfortable with Chuck snapping a couple of pics with his cell phone to document the occasion! When we were scheduling the Mohs surgery, the first proposed date was tomorrow, March 16th, but that’s Chuck’s birthday. So we chose the day before. I told Chuck that still didn’t seem fair, but he said that having a cancer free wife was an excellent birthday gift! I tell ya, the man’s a keeper!

I will return next week to have the stitches removed. Because once you have a skin cancer your odds increase for another developing, I will also be seeing my dermatologist on a regular basis for ongoing screenings.

Compared to the far more complicated and troubling skin cancers I could have been diagnosed with, I feel incredibly fortunate. I also am counting my lucky stars that fine doctors and excellent treatment are both affordable and readily available to me.

Rose32

This isn’t a review.
It’s more of a whispered recommendation.

If you find yourself in Hardwick, Masschusetts, in the village of Gilbertville, right on the main drag you will find “Rose32 Bread”. We’ve only been once, but we intend to go back. Lovely things are happening in the converted gas station. We’ve tried two kinds of cookies and one loaf of bread. As we used to say when I was growing up: “Mmmm, tastes like more!”

In addition to the baked goods, Rose32 also does breakfast, soup, quiche, salads and sandwiches. The place smells good, looks spotless and the staff is chipper and cheerful.

And let’s all remember that Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream started out in a converted gas station in Burlington, Vermont back in 1978. I know this because I ate there many times!

The End of 30 Year Mortgages?

Here in the United States, 30 year fixed rate mortgages have been the only realistic means to home ownership for the middle class. They first began in the 1930s when the government stepped in to help stabilize the housing market during The Great Depression. B-flat, garden variety, 30 year fixed rate mortgages, taken out by responsible home buyers and written by honorable lenders, were not the cause of the contemporary mortgage crisis. Those responsible homeowners were, however, part of the collateral damage in as much as the values of their homes declined sharply. Now it seems as if all the responsible home buyers who wish to sell and buy a new home or get into the market for the first time, are about to get screwed out of the option of a 30 year fixed rate mortgage.

In a housing utopia we could all save for a few years and buy a home for cash - I said utopia! In an ideal world we could all afford a 15 year fixed rate mortgage. But with income stagnant and the buying power of the dollar diminished, the significantly lower monthly payment of the 30 year fixed rate mortgage is key to the equation. (For a $250,000 house, with 10% down, at a 5% interest rate, the monthly payment for a 30 year fixed is $1,208; for a 15 year fixed it’s $1,779 - a $571 difference.) But with the impending demise of the elder Fannie Mae and the younger Freddie Mac, 30 year mortgages could disappear and so too the dreams of home ownership for the middle class.

Paul McMorrow explains the problem in the Boston Globe and Binyamin Appelbaum explores it further in the New York Times.

Without a 30 year fixed from the Bailey Building and Loan Association, Mr. Martini and his family would not have been moving into their own home in Bailey Park. And George and Mary Bailey wouldn’t have been toasting them with “Bread: that this house may never know hunger; Salt: that life may always have flavor; Wine: that joy and prosperity may reign forever”. That was all from “It’s A Wonderful Life ”, but isn’t that exactly what we all want?

Jam Jar Still Wins

Back in August, I posted about the wine from South Africa called Jam Jar. A few weeks ago we went back to Wine Nation to stock back up, only to find they were sold out. After Chuck revived me from where I had collapsed on the floor in despair, one of the managers took us on a tour of other sweet reds. We bought a few and drove home, still pining for Jam Jar.

Tonight we opened a “Sweet Walter Red” from Bully Hill. The nose, as they say, was profoundly Concord Grape. It was super, super sweet (the label had been abundantly clear on that point) but it didn’t taste much like wine. It reminded us both of the classic Manischewitz Concord Grape Wine. Now, Manischewitz has its place of pride, but not as an accompaniment to this evening’s whole wheat penne pasta with red sauce and meatballs!

So Jam Jar remains at the top of our delicious, versatile, complex, yet sweet red wines list.

Mom

It’s been twelve years since Chuck’s Mom passed away. It was Alzheimer’s which took Betty, just like it was for my Dad. Mom was warm, gentle, strong and loving. Besides being a devoted wife and mom, after she died, we learned that she had lettered in sports in high school. She had excelled in basketball, baseball, dancing and archery! She loved to laugh and would have enjoyed how that discovery caught us all by surprise.

Zichrona liveracha
Her memory is a blessing...

Adventures With A Very Old Barn

We have an ancient barn, which our miracle worker Roger and his late partner John explained was really one, maybe two, very old barns reincarnated into our current barn. But the current barn was reborn at least a century ago and then completely rehabbed about a dozen years ago by John and Roger. That work reclaimed the usefulness of the barn and the attached three-holer outhouse. The center bay has an enormous sliding wooden door, which rolls on metal wheels up in the rafters. That’s the bay where we park our car.

Monday, we had freezing rain blowing in from the south. But we had already rescheduled our appointment with our attorney and were determined to keep this one. I headed out to the barn without tossing on a jacket or pulling on boots. It’s a quick scoot across the dooryard and I had already “sanded” the walkway with (non-clumping!) kitty litter so the traction was fine. I hip-checked the sliding door a few times and felt it free itself from the icy buildup at the sill. Several determined pulls and shoves allowed me to slide it all the way open. I hopped in the car, started it up and pulled it out into the driveway. I decided to leave the engine running so that the defrosters and heater could warm up.

I popped out of the car, dodging sleety rain to close the barn door. I got it about halfway when it ground to a halt. I did my best imitation of the actions of a “Pushmi-Pullyu” trying to restart and close the darn door. As I got it underway again it began to slow. So I stepped inside the barn to give my feet better traction. Giving one more generous pull it slammed shut.

But I was on the wrong side of the door!

I tried to pull it back open. No dice. I immediately turned to the double doors on the adjacent bay on my left. They were latched from the outside. I turned to head into the house via the woodshed, but quickly remembered that since I hadn’t used that door, it would be locked from the inside. That left the back door to the barn which is on the north side. We never use it. The snow drifts up into the little corner between the barn and the outhouse and stays there until spring is in full force. I was wearing Birkenstock clogs and didn’t really want to go thigh deep into the snow.

I turned back to the sliding barn door. I told myself not to panic - which when you have to tell yourself not to panic is really not a good sign! I tried pulling on it and then thought to go get a crowbar out of Chuck’s workshop in the bay to my right. I returned and did my darnedest but could only oonch the door a couple of inches. Now I was panicking. If I hadn’t left the keys in the ignition I could have used the remote to trigger the car alarm. That would have easily gotten Chuck’s attention. Chuck, by the way was inside the house in the main part of the building, upstairs in the bathroom. I wasn’t sure if he was still in the shower. Which if he was, he would have the radio playing loud enough to be heard over the sound of the water.

So I did what any level headed 52 year old woman would do. I began to yell “CHUCK” at the top of my lungs! My voice echoed around me and I realized I needed to add a bass line. So I began rhythmically kicking the barn door and hollering. It was a cross between the dots and dashes of an SOS and the chest compressions and breathing of hysterical CPR. Sooner than I imagined possible, Chuck appeared at the kitchen door. He caught sight of my desperate face through the barn door window and came to my rescue. Lord love a duck, I felt like such an idiot! But Chuck was once again my hero!

The End.

Fair Imagination

I attended the 1964 - 1965 World’s Fair in New York City. I don’t remember exactly when we piled into the car and drove down from Rhode Island, but I know I very much enjoyed it. Based on the dates it was open, I would have been between five and seven years old. It was exciting and interesting, yet I can recall very few specifics: the enormous globe, the dazzling pavilions, “It’s A Small World”, the Pieta.

Chuck attended the same World’s Fair. All these years later, the most tantalizing thing about that fair is the slim possibility that my future husband and I were both in the same place at the same time. Maybe we walked by one another near the entrance in Queens, New York. We might have stood next to each other looking up at the gleaming Unisphere. Perhaps we gazed into the imagined future at the same time in one of the pavilions, never realizing that our true future was right beside us.

Not Looking For Alligators, But...

After a few postponements - one to illness, the rest to storms - we finally met with our attorney to sign our wills and attendant documents. It took longer than we had hoped. (Life has a way of intruding when one is planning for death!) But it’s finally all done. Well, almost all done. There are a couple of details left, but they really are minor compared to the big picture. As we drove away from today’s meeting with our wonderful attorney, I realized that if we were to be eaten by alligators on the way home, the new wills were officially in force. While it’s true that alligators are not common in this area and they don’t like snow and ice, they do have a way of sneaking up on you.

I know that wills are an aversive topic and task for many people. Cuz, you know, it deals with death and all that. Trust me, it pushes all of my buttons and does so doubly hard for Chuck. But it really does bring peace of mind. Not about death. I mean death still sucks. But knowing that you’ve made your wishes clear; knowing you’ve taken steps to make life a little easier on your loved ones after your death, well, that’s a very good thing.

Dad

My father’s yahrzeit began at sundown this evening. Dad passed away twenty-three years ago tomorrow, at the age of 68. This photograph was taken in 1942. Dad survived the army, World War II and raising three daughters only to be felled by Alzheimer’s Disease. He was funny and proud and complicated and handsome. He was an excellent storyteller and a terrific singer. He loved the heck out of his family. We, not he, were the center of his universe. He would have adored Isabella Rose.

Zichrono liveracha
His memory is a blessing...

Different Weather Reference

I am officially under the weather - and this time I am not referring to the snow. I have a cold. On the up side, the symptoms - of which I have them ALL - are progressing rapidly. But in the throes of an overwhelming coughing jag this morning, when Chuck commented on said speed, I quipped/hacked back “Yeah, at this rate I’ll be dead by Thursday.” It’s not that bad, not really. But it does suck pond water. Before I tip over into whining (Oh? I already went there?) I will say that WebMD has some nifty cold vs. flu vs. bronchitis vs. pneumonia pages which you might enjoy perusing. I know I did.

In other news...

: : A month ago, I asked if anyone had suggestions for a good personal health record or medical record template for Apple’s Numbers. I’ve come up empty on that front. But I did find an interesting resource on the web called MyPHR. I haven’t found exactly what I was looking for, but there is a wealth of useful information on the website.

: : After a protracted period of frustration over a challenging situation with an ER (elderly relative), things seem to have taken a turn for the better. It involves independence, choices, and safety. We hope that this recent trend continues. But even if it all evaporates, we have learned another batch of lessons which we can make every effort to apply to our own futures.

: : Turner Classic Movies is good almost all of the time. But during its annual “31 Days Of Oscar” it is especially great. Add in my cold and TCM serves as a perfect distraction.

: : Isabella’s parents got the green light to give the 10 pound, 11 ounce / 4.85 kilogram baby her first taste of cereal. Oh my! According to her Mom, Izzy mooshed the teaspoon of rice cereal about in her mouth and then dribbled it down her chin. But the little spoon was a big hit!

The Folks Who Brought You The Weekend

My mother reaped the benefits of a union without being a member. How? The company she worked for had employees who were unionized. Those employees worked hard, paid dues to their union and went out on strike as a last resort when management refused to negotiate with them or bargained in bad faith. Much of what my mother enjoyed in good working conditions and generous benefits were as a direct result of the corporation wishing to maintain parity and labor peace throughout the organization. They also wanted to keep the other branches of the company from unionizing.

When I was around eleven or twelve, one of the unions in my mother’s company had to go out on strike. Mom and her officemates had permission not to cross the picket line. But they were encouraged to come in after hours and work, after the union members had left their picket line. Because the work was backing up, Mom had me come with her. I was happy to participate in these Take Your Daughter To Work evenings. I sorted papers and filed things. It wasn’t until I was older and asked my mother a lot of questions that I understood I had unwittingly been a scab.

I made up for my childhood transgression when I joined the union at my workplace. As soon as I was eligible, I happily signed up and began paying my dues. I also contributed to a separate political fund. In short order I stood for election and became a steward. I never regretted it. To the contrary I was proud of my role in my union. I always understood that unions didn’t just benefit me and my fellow brothers and sisters in my union, but all other workers.

Until this week I had not known the vital role Wisconsin played in the history of unions and workers’ rights in this country. Rachel Maddow did a thorough, excellent and entertaining summary on her show the other evening. (You can watch the video below.) And if you work Monday through Friday and have today and tomorrow off, please tip your hat to the unions and all the members of unions who came before you. Don’t forget to think about the union members in Wisconsin - and across this nation - who are being targeted by the right wingers and the devilishly deep pocketed corporations. Remember, if the right manages to break the backs of the unions and eliminate the right to bargain collectively, we will all lose; we will all suffer. And if unions are diminished or destroyed it will only further erode the middle class, leading to a deepening of the chasm between the very rich and the working poor.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Please click on “comments” to read the contributions from Andrew and Jim.

It Only Took Eight And A Half Years

The last movie we saw in an actual movie theater was “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”. Yes, it was way back in 2002. We used to go to the movies every weekend. We had the theater’s movie times phone number memorized. Part of our weekly ritual - before the age of easy internet access and cell phone apps - was to get our pen and big lined pad ready. Then we would dial the number and write down titles and times as fast as we could. We rarely got it all on the first try. So we would quickly eliminate the irrelevant films and call back to listen again; this time focusing on what we were interested in seeing.

Once we settled on a movie we would drive to the theater, park the car and wait in line to buy tickets. We would try to get there early enough to get a good seat - not too close to the screen, not too far away. But as the years went by, the crowds became less polite. We were used the occasional “senior citizen” leaning over and stage whispering “What did he say?” for the whole theater to hear. No problem, all part of the experience.
Nor do I mean the crackling of cellophane candy wrappers or the slurping of sodas. I mean full fledged and amazingly full throated conversations, cell phones ringing followed by one sided dialogues and arguments erupting between patrons.

At the risk of sounding like the cranky old neighbor who yells “You kids get off my lawn!”, I will admit that even though we were then only in our 40s and 50s we did find ourselves muttering “Kids these days!”. When we had to leave a theater because it was completely out of control and negotiate with management for our money back, we knew we were at a tipping point. Gradually our movie theater days dwindled and “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” became our last in-theater cinema experience.

That is, until this afternoon. We went to a matinee showing of “The King’s Speech”. Nothing else in the last eight plus years has pulled us as powerfully to darken the door of a movie theater. We Googled, found Fandango, entered a zip code and poof we had theaters and times. (Kids these days have it easy!) We arrived to find no lines and the $5.75 ticket price had us feeling like we were in a very fiscally pleasant time warp.

Resisting the popcorn, we headed into the designated theater and found that they had improved the seating during our long absence. They reminded me of bucket seats and they could sort of rock and be repositioned. The floors weren’t sticky and littered with popcorn and wrappers. It wasn’t elegant but it was really very nice. There was only one other patron, a woman, seated in the theater. We greeted each other and she admitted as how she was glad we had arrived. She found the idea of sitting all alone in the theater a bit daunting.

“The King’s Speech” was absolutely marvelous! We loved every single minute of it. We applauded at the end! Our theater companion chose not to join in our applause. To each her own. We’re late to this party so you’ve likely seen the trailers, the reviews, the accolades - most recently its tremendous success at the 2011 BAFTAs - and, if you were smart and lucky, the film itself. Wasn’t it fabulous?

I will confess that at first I wanted my DVR or DVD player so I could rewind, pause and, heaven help me, pop on subtitles! But I settled in, as did Chuck and for two hours we were transported back to the first half of the last century. That doesn’t happen in the same intensely immersive way in one’s living room - no matter how nifty the surround sound.

Will we go back? Maybe. If another film as exceptional as “The King’s Speech” is released, we will be there in a heartbeat.

Two Years

My father-in-law’s yahrzeit began at sundown this evening. Dad passed away two years ago tomorrow, at the age of 94. This photograph was taken in the 1950s, on a trip from Missouri to Colorado. He looks like the king of the mountain in it. What I love is that even through the grainy, haziness of the image, Dad’s smile shines through. Milton could be tough, serious and sometimes more than a little intimidating. But he and I found our way via humor. I took great pride in making Dad laugh. He would first give me a look which said : “O.K., that was pretty good.” If I could keep going, being both smart and funny, my reward would come as he lost it and gave into the laughter. It was a lot like watching Harvey Korman lose his composure on the Carol Burnett show.

Zichrono liveracha
His memory is a blessing...

V

V is for virtual vacation.
I look at this photo and it calms me.

V is for victory.
I wish the people of Egypt democracy, prosperity and peace.

The view from Schoodic looking across Frenchman Bay toward Cadillac Mountain in Maine.

4 or 5

Just four or five inches of medium weight, wettish snow arrived this morning. Pretty good snowball snow - if I had ever been into that sort of thing. I hated snowball fights. The feeling of snow stinging your face or landing on your neck and sliding down icily under your layers of winter clothes. No thank you.

But this was pretty. And it was warm enough to be able to quickly scrape the walk clear and little enough to just drive the car out over it - no snowblower required.

Too Much

Monday, just past sunset, Chuck and I were driving on West Boylston Street in Worcester. As we drove south from Mountain Street toward Quinsigamond Community College, we saw a woman on the northbound side with a babe in arms and another young child, little more than a toddler, clinging to the woman’s leg. They were standing in the road, pressed up against the enormous pile of snow lining the street, filling the sidewalk. A bus stop sign was hanging on a nearby post. Cars and trucks were driving by, headlights glaring; slush and spray flying up from their tires. The scene was frightening. A bus was driving up West Boylston toward them. I hope it was the bus they were waiting for.

This winter, this snow, has been too much.

Five Items

Egypt:
I’m an enormous fan of and believer in Democracy. I want the people of Egypt to participate in their government and to thrive economically. I want that for them now.

Maria Schneider:
Actress Maria Schneider passed away this week at the age of 58. Upon hearing the news, director Bernardo Bertolucci said he regrets that "he never got the chance" to apologize to Ms. Schneider who, at the age of 19, starred in his “Last Tango In Paris”. Yeah, when you only have 39 years it's hard to find the time. May Ms. Schneider rest in peace.

Super Bowl:
My Dad was a football fan. One of the teams he liked was the Green Bay Packers. I rooted for them tonight during what turned out to be a surprisingly good and exciting Super Bowl XLV. Oh, the Packers won!

Super Bowl Halftime Show:
Wow. But not in a good way. I like the Black Eyed Peas just fine. But the sound engineers or technicians at Fox dropped the ball - pun intended. The light show aspects were pretty cool, especially the red heart. But I kept waiting for the wowee-zowee big moment. Perhaps I am jaded. I will say I am delighted that there were no wardrobe malfunctions. Heaven knows I couldn’t suffer through another kerfuffle like the Jackson-Timberlake incident of 2004.

Mouse:
We live with three cats. Yet it was Chuck who spotted the mouse strolling along the edge of the room and pausing to watch the Super Bowl on TV. Chuck had to capture the mouse in a jar and externalize it. The cats seemed wildly disinterested. Not that I like what happens when the cats are interested in or are successful in catching a mouse. But they could have at least twitched an ear or lolled their heads in the general direction of the dang mouse!


P.S. I didn’t mention snow! Not even once! Well, except for just now... ;o)

Deja Vu, Baby

It’s hard not to let the weather dominate our lives right now. We’re in a relentless pattern of a couple of storms a week, each with shovelable snowfall. We’ve had to cancel and reschedule appointments and get togethers; rethink plans, activities and errands. We believe it has been about ten years since we had a winter as intense as this one.

We drove down to Rhode Island yesterday to visit with my Mom, Carrie and Isabella. Knowing some school districts had delayed openings we wanted to get an early start. That was impeded by a dead battery in our only car. Luckily Chuck has a battery charger-booster gizmo which plugs into an electrical outlet and acts like a good samaritan with jumper cables. So much for the early start but we were soon out and rolling. State highways were good. Town and city roads were mixed to miserable. Worcester was a major challenge and a big delay. The two lane roads we drove on were down to one lane. Some of the side roads were nearly impassable due to snow which had fallen the day before.

In terms of impact, this last storm feels as if it is the final straw. There is just nowhere for urban dwellers to put the new snow. Heck, it is becoming a serious challenge and concern for those of us living in the country. And whenever the DPWs do what they must do and push back the snow to the curbs, residents’ arduous shoveling is undone and the cycle begins again - only with much, much taller piles of snow.

Had we not been running so late, I would have been a better blogger on several occasions. The first was on Goddard Memorial Drive. One of the flat roofed industrial companies had cranes in place next to the building. A swarm of workers was up on the roof shoveling snow into what appeared to be large tarpaulin bags. Then the bags were lifted by crane down to the ground. Similarly, down on Route 146, the new WalMart also had cranes lifting sacks of snow off their expansive roof. These efforts may seem extreme, but one look at this video would send any business owner in search of relief from the snow load on their own roof. It certainly had us out with the roof rake again today.

Our visit with family in Rhode Island started late but was great. Isabella now weighs 9 pounds, 15 ounces / 4.5 kilograms! She is strong and lovely and a pleasure to be with. Carrie has started back to work half-time and is adjusting quite well to that transition. From Sutton, Massachusetts to Johnston, Rhode Island we could see the evidence of the band of weather which brought more ice than snow. Every twig was glistening with a coating of ice. Thankfully, it did not appear to be anywhere near as thick as the ice storm of 2008. Even much farther south at Al and Carrie’s home, the ice had locked Carrie’s car in place in their driveway. With a bit of shoveling, some rocking back and forth of the car and a judicious placement of a metal AAA mesh strip, Uncle Chuck and Auntie Lee soon had her car free.

See what I mean about how hard it is to not let the weather be the dominate topic? One minute I’m talking about Izzy’s awesome progress and the next I’m shoveling snow again!

Our Slip Is Showing

Icicles are nothing to be proud of. Yes, they look pretty; all winter meets gingerbread storybook. But they are the housing equivalent of going out in public with your slip showing. They demonstrate something is awry. They mean we don’t have enough insulation. Some of our heat is escaping from the main living areas of our home into the attic spaces. That heat is rising up and warming the roof so that the snow melts, drips, refreezes and slowly but surely forms icicles. That melted snow can also build up at the edge of the roof and form ice dams which can damage said roof.

The winter home equivalent of a gal who looks as if she just stepped out of a band box would be a house with a thick, even blanket of snow across the whole roof - no lumpy ice dams, no stalactite-like icicles, no strips or patches of melted snow revealing the slip, er, the shingles beneath.

That said, here are two photos of the icicles on our home. I shall miss them when our insulation is complete, but not their cause.

Not Yet

At what point is a native New Englander, who likes winter and strongly dislikes summer, allowed to wave the white flag over too many snowstorms?

Oh, not yet?

O.K. then, apparently I have nothing more to say here!

But, hypothetically speaking of course, if today we had to shovel 8 more inches (20 centimeters) of medium weight snow, rake the kitchen roof and reshovel where the snow from said roof landed with a thud on the back walk and bulkhead, we might, just might be getting weary of this winter - hypothetically.

And if, hypothetically speaking, we had to crawl out the bedroom window onto the porch roof to shovel 18 inches (46 centimeters) of accumulated varietal snow, from multiple storms, it is remotely possible that we could be growing tired of this pattern of one storm after another after another - hypothetically.

But as a native New Englander, who likes winter and strongly dislikes summer, I think I need to keep my mouth shut for a little while longer. Because you know as well as I do that once summer comes, the heat rises, the humidity closes in and the bugs emerge, I will be thinking fondly of winter. Especially of an afternoon in late January when the physical exertion of coaxing and heaving heavy snow off the porch roof left me achey, satisfied and yes, even exhilarated, as the setting sun glinted off the icicles gilding the eaves.

Chuck working to clear the porch roof

Lights & Dominoes

We’ve been taking advantage of the cold and snowy weather to work on some projects around the house. After all these years I know that folks seem to either love or hate IKEA. I’m in the love column. Our experience this past week with the Sanda track lighting system has done nothing to diminish my feelings. Sanda (which seems to be available around the world) allows you to secure flat tracks to the ceiling and easily add light fixtures. In our old home, the biggest challenge, as always, is that there isn’t a straight or plumb line in the whole house. That didn’t phase Sanda.

As with most of our home improvement adventures this was a matter of dominoes. We finally replaced our nearly two decade old washer and slightly younger dryer with an energy efficient front loader washer and a companion dryer. My friends on Twitter were kind enough to suffer through my venting as I tried to adjust to a totally new way of doing laundry. (Thank you Morgan and Wendy!) One of the biggest frustrations was I couldn’t lift the lid and check as my clothes sloshed happily about in a tub full of sudsy water. There is a large round window on the washer, but there is no sudsing, no sloshing, no micro-managing of the load.

My inability to be hands-on coupled with a dramatically longer washing cycle repeatedly found me standing in front of the washer, with a very bright flashlight, fretting over whether or not the clothes were really, truly getting well and truly clean! That’s how the lighting in the laundry room came up for discussion. The old fluorescent shop-light fixture Chuck had improvised ages ago was no longer cutting the mustard. So on our last trip to IKEA, measurements in hand, we purchased all the Sanda bits and pieces we thought we would need.

After more than a month with the new washer and dryer, I have to admit, I’m beginning to get used to them and this new fangled way of doing laundry. And now that we have the Sanda lights, the room is a much more pleasant space to work in. Now if I could just learn to fully trust my washing machine...

Catching Up & Two Questions

: : First off, a belated blog birthday greeting to my sister Gail in Georgia. She is “GG”, Isabella’s grandmother, and she celebrated an unnamed/unnumbered birthday on Thursday. May this coming year hold only joy for you Gail!

: : Speaking of Isabella, she now weighs 8 pounds, 14 ounces or 4.03 kilograms and she remains bright as a new penny, endlessly entertaining and adorable.

: : Do any Apple computer aficionados know of a good personal health record or medical record template for Numbers? It could even be a Microsoft Excel template, which can be opened in Numbers and then saved as a Numbers file. I found a couple on-line, but none of them seem to be as sophisticated as the sort of templates which come with Numbers.

: : Are any of my readers using HD Radio? We just began learning about it and, despite its nascency, it seems pretty nifty. If we could reliably get the Boston Red Sox ballgames via HD Radio we would be all over it like white on rice!

: : Keith Olbermann has left MSNBC. I am unhappy about this. I like Keith. I liked his show Countdown. Even though there were times when he tipped over from determined to strident; from angry to wrathful; from funny to obsessively mocking, I always admired his courage, his convictions and his willingness to speak truth to power. I shall miss him.

: : So far, Downton Abbey is fabulous! The series is airing in four parts here in the States as part of Masterpiece on PBS. There is a lovely warmth, humor and humanity about the characters and the storylines. We have been captivated by it and are keeping our fingers crossed that it finishes well. And that the next round of episodes, filming this spring, will be equally wonderful.

: : I thought of the late Jeff Barnard many times this week. Each time we drove through Worcester we found folks walking in the street because sidewalks were unshoveled and we played dodge-cars with other vehicles because lanes of traffic suddenly disappeared under unplowed or poorly plowed snow. As we inched along, I couldn’t help but think that Jeff would have held those responsible up to his high standards and kept their feet to the fire.

: : It is now -9F / -23C! I’ll let that sink in. Yes, it is incredibly frosty. The sky is crystal clear as it usually is on such bitterly cold nights. The moon is just past full and the snow is glittering under its gentle light.

Welcome To The Weather Blog

Ladies and gentleman, we have a pattern - and it ain’t pretty! O.K. I’ll admit, it is January in New England, but we have another storm coming tomorrow - and another one Friday. Wendy asked me last week what I considered a bad storm. Tomorrow will very likely be a crappy, lousy, messy, bad storm. We could get six inches plus of snow, followed by sleet, then ice, then rain. Blech! One of the decision points for tomorrow will be do we clear the snow right before it turns to sleet or do we just hide inside until the misery has ended? If we let the snow stand, then all the subsequent precipitation will soak into it and it will weigh a ton - a ton likely encrusted in ice. But if we manage to time it right and move the snow, then all the varietal frozen water which appears later will likely turn the driveway and walkways into a freakin’ winter Slip 'n Slide.

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

It’s weather like tomorrow’s festival of fun that makes some people want to jet off to Caribbean climes. Not me. I can’t lie and say I love this sort of winter slop, but I will always choose it over hazy, hot and humid.

Remind me that I typed that about 4:00 p.m. tomorrow!

Our back walk, post ice storm, post jarring work with an ice spade, in February 2008

Progress

When I had my surgery back in July, Chuck and I were prepared for a long haul. I was incredibly fortunate that I was out of the hospital in days, not weeks and that my recovery proceeded without incident. (Yes, that’s wood you hear me knocking!) My surgeon instructed me to follow all of her rules through the first eight weeks. After that, I was to be careful, sensible. But the first of September came and went and I was still being super cautious. I felt better each week, but I did not trust my body. Intellectually, I knew I was stronger, but I was scared. I didn’t want to take any chances.

In the last two weeks I felt something shift. No, I don’t mean stitches! I was feeling more confident; more trusting of my body. After a modest snowfall I shoveled, cautiously, but I shoveled. We went to IKEA and I was able to help Chuck lift and stow the flat pack boxes in and onto our car. I was very, very careful and I was fine. I was achey and tired the next day, but that was as much from happily schlepping around the enormous store for hours as it was from toting and heaving. Then the latest storm brought 15 inches / 38 centimeters of snow. It was fluffy and I was mindful of my form and motion as I shoveled and I was fine.

So six months after my surgery I feel as if I have arrived at a new milestone. I won’t start swinging from the chandelier, but whatever I do, I will remain aware and I really will be fine.

Sun & Shadow

Today the sun came out and the world was filled with brilliant white and midnight blue shadows.

More Snow

The snow fell hard and steadily overnight and throughout the day. Several times, the snow lightened and we wondered if it was finally passing through. Just as many times, the winds howled, squalls intensified and we were enveloped in white-out conditions. Late this afternoon, radar and our own observations led us to begin the clearing in earnest. I grabbed shovel, yardstick and camera. Chuck headed for the barn and the snowblower. Together we moved the blessedly light snow off the driveway and walkways. I also shoveled off the bulkhead and dug out the dryer vent. Chuck cleared the area around the mailbox for postal delivery tomorrow, as well as a swath down to the compost pile. With drifts up to the windowsills, it was difficult to get an accurate reading, but I believe we got about 15 inches / 38 centimeters. For us, not a bad storm; not a bad storm at all.

Snow

It looked a lot like this:

NSFW

Many months ago our niece Kate told us about a YouTube video by Cee Lo Green. We had been talking about break up songs - I can’t remember why - and she said Cee Lo Green had a “classic”. Ever thoughtful, she did warn us about its content. Then she told us the name of the song was "F*ck You". We looked it up and found the following (absolutely NSFW!) video - which I thoroughly enjoyed:



Then today I followed a link from Ten Pounds Of Awesome to the ASL (American Sign Language) version of the song. It too is totally NSFW, but I loved it. In fact I sent the links to my sister-in-law because our nephew, her son, is studying ASL in high school. Enjoy!

Jon Stewart On Tucson

Jon Stewart did an excellent job during his opening monologue on The Daily Show; thoughtful, gentle, sincere yet passionate.

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Dead End

It’s a domino thing. I need to make space in one part of the house in order to bring order and beauty to another. So I tackled one of the two closets our old house has. That’s two closets for what was originally a four bedroom home. One of the bedrooms was converted about nine decades ago into our only bathroom. Did I mention it’s an old house? One closet is in the upstairs hall. That’s the “big” one - big being a relative term. The little one is not only little, it is awkward as the dickens. We have two rods in it, on the right hand side. So you have to shimmy in on the left and rummage until you find what you want, then shimmy back out again.

Chuck and I enjoy watching House Hunters on HGTV. Our jaws drop when we see folks touring homes, wandering into capacious walk-in closets (what a concept!) and declaring them too small. Too small? Some of those closets are far bigger than our largest bedroom!

Now you understand our passion for IKEA Pax units don’t you? (When you click the link, be careful not to drool on your keyboard!)

Anyhoo, I tackled one half of the truly little closet. I tried to be just as ruthless as Morgan and Roo. I did very well. But the first cut yielded an embarrassing number of outdated and rarely worn clothes. They'll be donated tomorrow. And while I generally buy very simple, classic clothes, apparently I went through a "cute & trendy" tops phase a few years ago. What the heck was I thinking? As I pulled an odd assortment of foreign items out from the far reaches of the closet, I decided I must have lost my mind - however briefly!

The second half of the closet is tomorrow. Isn’t there something else I could volunteer for? You know, jury duty, endodontic procedures? Never mind, I believe I just heard my closet coaches order me back in; something about being brave, steadfast and ruthless!

Scoundrel

The normally irreverent Rosie West of Ten Pounds of Awesome has written a cogent summary of the discrediting of any causal link between vaccines and Autism Spectrum Disorders. Ms. West usually writes breezy, flippant, scathing, expletive-peppered rants aimed at popular culture icons. Yes, Ms. West rocks. But this time she has set her sights on the scoundrel formerly known as ”Doctor” Andrew Wakefield. In this instance she has toned down her language but not her passion. Wakefield deserves everything Ms. West gives him and so much more.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough

I just heard about a fabulous FlashMob Wedding which took place back in mid-December at The Pru in Boston. It’s sweet and uplifting. And, being a proud liberal from Massachusetts, I loved what the woman who officiated had to say. The quality of the video is very good, so do click to watch it at full screen.

Who? Me?

Yesterday we made the trek down to IKEA in Stoughton. They were still having their big January sale, but we were most interested in finishing up our final PAX unit. After we had placed our order in the PAX department we decided to get a bite to eat in the cafeteria. When I visited the nearby ladies’ room, I was surprised to find a pink note stuck to the inside of the stall door. It had a glittery red heart on the bottom of it and written above in black magic marker was: “You look sexy today!”

“Why, thank you!” I thought.

Then I quickly looked for the crew from Candid Camera!

Since the enormous restroom was mostly empty, I decided to snap a photo of the message using my cell phone. Yes, that was probably almost as odd as finding the Post It Note stuck on the door! Heres the proof:




I left it there for the next lucky lady to find...

“Framed”

Unfortunately, this is belated, but I did want to heartily recommend the PBS Masterpiece Contemporary show “Framed”. It aired in this region the night of our “Rolling Christmas” and blizzard. We had set the DVR for it. Once we had a chance to watch the show, we were completely charmed by it.

I haven’t been all that excited about the Masterpiece Contemporary series. I did enjoy “Place of Execution” and also “Collision”. So with three in the “like” column, I guess I need to keep an open mind about whatever comes out in the future under the banner of “Masterpiece Contemporary”!

Sea Change

There was a wonderful article about Alzheimer’s in the New York Times yesterday. The focus was not on accurate diagnosis nor on possible cures. It was about providing excellent, appropriate care to patients with Alzheimer’s. My Dad died of Alzheimer’s in 1988, at the age of 68. Chuck’s Mom died of the same disease in 1999, at the age of 82. While we contribute to the Alzheimer’s Association, truthfully, I can hardly stand to read any articles about the disease. Over the years there have been precious few breakthroughs, which has left me dispirited. It ravaged our parents and robbed them, and all of us, of the extraordinary people they were. To revisit the topic is exceptionally painful.

But the title of the article in the Times by Pam Belluck captured my attention: “Giving Alzheimer’s Patients Their Way, Even Chocolate”. I clicked over to it with some apprehension, but I read it all the way through. In the end, I felt encouraged, almost optimistic. Should Alzheimer’s strike our family again, I now know that the care of patients has advanced dramatically. Humane, compassionate, responsive, intuitive. creative, high quality and individualized care is possible. Such care is not a fluke nor practiced on a hunch. There is a great deal of research to back it up. Compared to what my Dad experienced, it is a sea change; compared to Chuck’s Mom, it is a significant improvement.

Whether or not Alzheimer’s has touched your life, I urge you to read the article. It can only serve to make us better informed and able to advocate for those we love - no matter what illness is being wrestled with.

2010 In Review

Wendy, of A Wee Bit of Cooking, made a cool photo collage of the year. She used a free online program called Mosaic Maker. I tried to use the program, but about one third of my photos were incompatible with its system. So I headed to Photoshop and made my own. Looking at the 25 photographs gathered together this way, left me feeling amazed at how swiftly the 12 months flew by and how much happened over the 365 days.

Thank you for sharing in what has been a truly eventful year!

Goodbye & Hello

Happy New Year!

Wishing you good health, peace, joy and love
in 2011 and beyond!

This & That Round-Up

: : She’s back and she’s still very funny - “earthy” this time, but very funny.

: : She flew practically from one pole to the other to meet Father Christmas in Rovaniemi, Lapland in Finland.

: : He has spent the last quarter century as a non-smoker. Coincidentally, so have I.

: : I wish I could turn back the clock so you all could go see what was, hands down, the best Revels ever.

: : Isabella weighs 7 lbs, 10.5 oz / 3.47 kgs and is just dandy!

: : This is the same way our relative met & married his new wife - minus the coverage in People Magazine and the chateau in Switzerland.

Blizzard

The wind was and continues to be fierce; the cold bitter and biting. But the snow, well, around here, not too much. Actually, I can’t provide accurate figures for snowfall accumulation because the snow here in the hills of Worcester County was generally light and fluffy. Add in the high winds and that meant both drifting and scouring. The drifts in the dooryard near the barn measured around 18-20 inches / 45-50 centimeters. Yet there were a couple of small, nearly bare spots on the driveway. When Chuck ventured out earlier this evening he found the roads around town in generally good shape. The exceptions were dramatic and all involved rural roads, like ours, where the high winds had swept snow off open fields, onto the road.

Tomorrow promises sunshine, more below freezing temperatures, but lighter winds. Trust me, that will most definitely be an improvement!

Let It Snow!

Oh the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow


It doesn't show signs of stopping,

And I've bought some corn for popping,
The lights are turned way down low,

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

When we finally kiss goodnight,

How I'll hate going out in the storm.

But if you'll really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm.

The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we're still good-bying,

But as long as you love me so,
Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

- Written by Sammy Cahn & Jule Styne, 1945

Ah, but we did have someplace to go!

Today was our day for Isabella’s “Rolling Christmas”. That meant we needed to drive from Central Massachusetts to Kent County, Rhode Island. Not a problem - except for the blizzard. Yes, this wasn’t just Isabella’s first Christmas, it was her first blizzard as well! As the week progressed and the meteorologists’ forecasts became more specific, we decided to base our travel plans on the timing of the storm. They were all predicting the snow to begin in Rhode Island about noon, but the heaviest bands weren’t expected until late afternoon and early evening. So after a flurry of phone calls (yes, flurry!) we settled on an earlier arrival time of 11:00 a.m.

As we loaded our sleigh car and drove down our driveway at 8:20 a.m. the first flakes were beginning to fall. We arrived at my mothers home a little after 10:00 and packed up the dinner she had prepared (and her!) and headed over to Carrie and Al’s. We had a lovely time. Al had gotten what, in the lot, looked like a modest tree, but turned out to be room-fillingly plump and quite fragrant. Carrie had decorated it with Izzy’s “assistance” over a few days. Add in the opened holiday gifts from the earlier iterations of the Rolling Christmas and their home was very festive!

After much holding of Isabella, a good dinner, plus conversation and laughter, we left Carrie and Al’s about 20 past 2 and drove my Mom back to her home on the other side of town. The roads had been treated and some had been plowed, but the driving on secondary roads was tense. Once we got up onto Route 295 headed home, it was steady going in light snow on well plowed surfaces. But Route 146 was a challenge. The snow had intensified and the road had a thick accumulation of snow on it. Chuck was driving that difficult leg of the journey. But once we made it to Worcester, we seemed to be ahead of the heavier bands and the traveling was much better. We switched drivers in the Price Chopper lot at Park and Highland - taking the opportunity to re-clear windows and lights on the car. I then began driving up into the hills of Western Worcester County. By 6:00 p.m. we were back in our driveway (which had very little snow on it), safe and sound.

Since then, the wind has picked up and the snow is falling heavily and steadily. By the time the blizzard is over, they say we might get between 12 and 18 inches (30 - 45 centimeters) of snow.

We’re grateful to have been able to share the holiday with family. Very grateful we were able to navigate the roads safely to and fro. And ever so happy to be home again.

Chuck cleaning off the car in Rhode Island, 2:18 p.m.

It’s A Wonderful Life

It’s my favorite movie of all time. It always will be. All the great directors, writers and cinematographers that have ever lived could collaborate to create a film together and it wouldn’t hold a candle to “It’s A Wonderful Life”. I watch it every year, at least once (I own a copy). Every year I discover something new or understand some aspect of it in a new way. It’s perfect. I laugh; I cry; my blood boils at Mr. Potter; my heart melts when George and Mary embrace over the telephone and again when they are reunited on the stairs with their children. The final scene is the best happy ending ever. Ever. Some members of my family don’t understand its magic. They need to watch it, start to finish, without commercials and give themselves over to it - no distractions, save perhaps popcorn or eggnog. I’m certain that’s all it will take. ;o)

Wishing you a very
Merry Christmas!


Image courtesy of Karen’s Whimsy

Then and Now

One month ago today, Isabella Rose left the NICU to go home for the very first time. When she was discharged she weighed 5 lbs, 13 oz / 2.64 kgs. Now she weighs 7 lbs, 3 oz / 3.26 kgs! She is a wonderful child. I’ve written before that when we first met her back in August, at just four hours old, weighing 1 lb, 6 oz / 620 grams, she struck us as sweet and strong. That is still absolutely true. Her mom and dad, Carrie and Al, are great parents - attentive, loving and increasingly relaxed. Even a call to 911 last Friday, while intense and scary, was taken in stride, and they pronounced Isabella “pink and perfect” by the time the Rescue Squad arrived.

We are all so very grateful; so very happy.
Thank you for your support, encouragement and celebration over the last five months!

Then...


Now!

My Solstice Wishes For You

May all these be yours...

Thanks to Roo for reminding me about Wordle and to Morgan for introducing me to it in the first place!

Thank You USPS!

Today was expected to be the busiest day of the year for the United States Postal Service. May I say simply that Letter Carriers Rock! In the interest of full disclosure a member of our extended family is employed with the USPS. But I remain amazed that we have such an incredibly efficient postal service and we pay lower prices for those services than many other countries. So remember to thank your letter carriers this holiday season. And don’t forget, you can tip them too! *

* There are a lot of references all over the internet that there is a USPS regulation that letter carriers cannot accept gifts over $20.00. I can’t find that authoritatively on the USPS website. If you can find it, please leave a link in the comments. Otherwise, giving a gift in appreciation for great service from one human being to another, well, that strikes me as an entirely private matter... ;o)

Blue Ribbon!

Without a doubt, the best blue cheese I have ever eaten is Cashel Blue Irish Farmhouse Cheese made in County Tipperary, Ireland. I remember tasting close to a dozen artisanal blue cheeses out in Seattle a couple of years ago. Many of them were very, very good. But this past October I had some Cashel Blue as part of a salad at McKay’s in Bar Harbor. It was intense but not overpowering; creamy without being mushy. It had an ancient, earthy, yet wonderfully fresh taste. We made a note of the name. Saturday night we found some at Whole Foods near Alewife. Last night I added it to our salads. At this stage of ripeness it can’t really be cut and cubed. So you need to use your fingers to break and roll bits of it off. It was as good as we remembered! The Cashel site has a lot of useful information about the cheese along with some recipes. Although I have trouble imagining incorporating this blue into anything, simply because it is so enjoyable on its own - think very plain crackers, apples, pears or a lightly dressed salad. I look forward to having it with a prosecco or with a moscato. Basically, I look forward to having it again!

il Casale

We had a great evening last night. Part of what made it so much fun was we went out to dinner with our niece Kate and her husband Phil. (You may remember Kate from this post.) My Dad was an excellent storyteller. Chuck tells a pretty darn good story, as do I. But Kate is the best storyteller in the family. So there was a lot of catching up and a whole lot of laughter. What prompted the get together was actually Isabella Rose. Because our (now 7 pound!) grandniece can’t be around crowds, we’re having a “rolling Christmas” this year. Small groups of family will be visiting Carrie, Al and Isabella on different days. Most of us are bringing a meal so as to keep the impact minimal and maximize the celebration. It’s a good solution, but it means we won’t be seeing the whole fan-damily at one big gathering. Hence, a holiday dinner in Belmont with Phil and Kate.

il Casale is located on Leonard Street in the heart of “downtown” Belmont. It’s housed in a converted firehouse: high ceilings, brick walls, deep toned wood tables. Our waitress was Soledad. She could teach a master class in how to be a great server. Throughout the evening she struck the balance we love of being attentive, without being intrusive. Because none of us had ever been there before, she walked us through the evening specials and the printed menu. After extensive discussion we settled on three Sfizi - little tastes - as appetizers: maiale (pork meatballs), burrata (buttery mozzarella), fegatini (pate). They arrived on individual dishes and Kate divided and served them to us. Each was a delightful burst of flavor; very much like an amuse-bouche. While we enjoyed the Sfizi, we continued to study the menu. Which, when you are talking, laughing and already waxing rhapsodic about the food, can be a challenge!

We finally placed our main order off the Secondi menu: Chuck, the osso-buco lamb shank; Kate, the veal saltimbocca; Phil, the bistecca, which last night was a grilled rib-eye; I chose the brodetto (seafood stew). We also ordered two items from the Contorni menu: the spinach with marscapone and lemon; plus the polenta with gorgonzola. A “small serving” (not really) of the radiatore pasta with the wild boar ragu off the Primi menu rounded out what became almost a family style meal. Soledad also made solid recommendations from the wine list. Chuck’s choice was the most noteworthy: a glass of the Grifalco Aglianico del Vulture.

When our dishes arrived, it was with an efficient, but festive flurry of activity. Multiple servers appeared with all of the items at once. Soledad checked to make sure we had everything and checked back with us shortly thereafter. Every selection was excellent. (O.K. One tiny quibble: the spinaci could have been a little creamier, but no spinach returned to the kitchen uneaten!) We were all very happy with our individual entrees, as well as the tastes we shared with one another.

Then came dessert. Could il Casale keep hitting it out of the park? Oh yes indeedy! Kate and Phil decided to share a tiramisu. Chuck chose the crostata di mele (apple tart) and I ordered the frittelle (Venetian style fried dough with a chocolate fonduta). Once again, tastes were shared liberally and we all agreed they were delicious. Personally, I thought the frittelle were out of this world. Crispy on the outside; tender, almost creamy on the inside; each little beignet-cum-munchkin was scrumptious dipped in the dark chocolate sauce. They should be ordered automatically to share after every meal.

My only problem? il Casale has ruined me for all other restaurants, because all others will pale in comparison!

Note: Reservations are recommended. And it’s important to speak with il Casale directly to request either a low or a high (bar height) table.


: : Update: After I posted this, I checked out the reviews for il Casale over on Open Table, Trip Advisor and Yelp. Wow! Apparently there is a wormhole near the entrance to the restaurant. Most of us are lucky enough to step into the real restaurant and have the spectacular experience we did. Others pass through the time space anomaly and emerge in the cruel impersonator where service is poor and the food is mediocre! All I can tell you is that the four of us ordered thirteen different dishes and enjoyed every single one.

Lights

The world turns; the darkness falls; we’re sliding into winter.
The welcome chill of autumn becomes raw and biting.
Winds of summer brought comfort; winter’s wind causes us to steel ourselves.
The lights keep us steady and sane.
Creamy yellow glow of lamps through frosted windowpanes; twinkle lights dangling from porches; these cheer us.
Evergreens strung round and round with bulbs of green, red, blue, orange; these gladden our hearts.
Crazy, inflatable snowmen, Santas, penguins; tethered to the ground, bob and weave as their light spills onto lawns, dusted with first snow.
Wicker reindeer, draped in white lights, graze in an imaginary forest, adjacent to sidewalks and parking meters.
We squint, the way my Dad taught me to check our Christmas tree decades ago, we squint and the lights steady us; warm our hearts and something deep within us calms, then soars.

DADT - The Song

We were at The Bull Run in Shirley, Massachusetts last night for a particularly fine concert by David Buskin, Robin Batteau and Marshal Rosenberg. (Here’s my post from last year about Buskin & Batteau.) The Kennedys opened for them, or as the Bull Run’s impresario said “we have two headliners tonight”. Despite The Kennedys having been on the folk music circuit for 15 years or so, we had never heard them live before. They were terrific. Maura’s voice is lovely and Pete worked some sort of musical miracle on his ukelele and produced George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” - amazing!

About three quarters of the way through Buskin & Batteau’s excellent performance, David went to the piano and Robin picked up his violin. David introduced the next song by saying he had written it just a few months ago, assuming it would be well out of date by now. It was called “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”. Sadly, it is still all too timely. Here’s the video they shot at Fox Run:




You can find all things Buskin & Batteau here.

An explanation of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

Join the Human Rights Campaign’s efforts to repeal DADT.

Thank You!

Have you ever looked at your calendar and not seen any blank spaces? That’s what my week has been like. It actually began at the beginning of November when our washer and dryer began their inexorable journey to the recycling facility. Heck, it probably began back in July when I had my surgery. Regardless of the starting point, things got so busy that I missed the anniversary of Pink Granite. It was November 25th, Thanksgiving Day. But there were far more important things happening at the time - like the long awaited homecoming of Isabella Rose!

While this acknowledgement is belated, it is heartfelt: thank you for reading and joining in Pink Granite for the last four years!

I Said No, No, No

Back in September, I posted about fewer, less and pled. Yesterday, I Tweeted and had a word display as misspelled. Under “natheless” appeared the dotted red line symbolizing an error. Nunh unh I thought articulately. So I headed to Dictionary.com and typed it into the search box. There it was, properly spelled, a legitimate adverb - - - but wait. In italics was the word “Archaic”. Archaic?! I’m using it. I’ve always used it. It’s a perfectly lovely synonym for nevertheless or nonetheless or notwithstanding. Archaic?! It’s Old English or Middle English and has been in use since before 900 AD/CE. Note that’s in use; not dig it out, dust it off and pronounce it quaint.

Sheesh!

I understand that language is fluid. It adapts and responds as a culture changes and evolves. Fine. But we need natheless. It flows smoothly off the tongue and has an aural lightness which allows it to be employed in less formal sentences. Won’t you join me in keeping it contemporary? Or, as fussbudget lexicographers might insist it be termed, bringing it back?