Wednesday, November 21, 2012


The pecan pies are made. Two of them. My dad's special recipe.
There's a big turkey in our oven. Twenty pounds of Thanksgiving glory cooking away in our Manhattan kitchen.
I made a burlap bunting and found the perfect spice-colored tapers for my candlesticks.
Today is our Thanksgiving.
Justin is the keeper of the turkey and since all the bird needs now is just a bit of time, J slipped away to the gym, undoubtedly anticipating the feast that is to come.
Tonight, friends old and new will gather.
It's going to be a grand time with a fullness to it that is hard to mark with words.
Rather, it will be sidelong glances and familiar laughter and warm embraces.
But for now these walls are quiet and almost hallowed and I am grateful for a window to steal away to this old stomping ground of mine if but for a moment.
Justin and I have more than what we need and so much of what we want.
Moreover, our lives are rich with people, some near and some far, whom we love.
Real people with real dreams and real hurts and real fears and real hopes.
People who mean more than anything new and shiny ever could.

J just returned from the gym which means I'll stop here for now and join him in the kitchen.
It also means my walls are not so silent anymore. Oh that man of mine! How especially glad he makes my heart.

This is my thanks giving.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Hello Aunt E, I am not dead.

I received an email recently from one of my very favorite people, my Aunt Elsie. 
She lovingly reminded me that she and her friend Carolyn (Hey y'all!) read my blog and that I had not posted since September 25th.
So just to clarify...
I am not dead in a New York alleyway, nor did I mean to take a blogging hiatus. 
One day turned into another and life managed to keep happening whether I made time to document it or not. 
But I do so enjoy the documenting. 
The coming here and seeing words and photos and memories meld into one another. 
A lot of memories have been made since September 25. I'll get to them soon, promise. 

But now, a list...

1My entry table is home to pumpkins and spiced cider candles. Happy welcome. 
2I can't decide if I'm going to carve the orange pumpkin or let it be. 
3My friend Leah met Donald Trump last week. That has nothing to do with pumpkins.

4I went apple picking not once, but twice this year. 
5Today is for apple pie and apple butter making. We've got apples for days over here. 
6Is it too early to start dreaming up Christmas cards? Because I totally am. Ours might be apple-themed. 
7On repeat

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

 Happy Tuesday, friends.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Finding Fall


 baby Charlie and Justin, twins

 Charlie and his mama at bedtime
 scenes around the UWS
 a contemplative J / swinging in Central Park

 dusk, our favorite time of day
 days' end

first sign of the season

It's 6am when the motor cranks wide open, ear-piercing loud.
The construction on our building's exterior was scheduled to be finished August 1st. Right.
The past few weeks have seemed louder than the rest. Or maybe our tolerance has reached a low point.
Either way, we are choosing to look past scaffolding, past deafening drills to find Fall wherever we can.
So far we have found Fall...
Pet-sitting the most golden goldendoodle, Lucy, for our friends.
This was our first time walking a dog in our grand city. Let's just say it's not as easy as it looks.
Visiting a babyfriend born over the summer.
He found a fast friend and plaid twin in J.
Swinging in Central Park.
I wore one of my favorite Fall shirts in honor of the less oppressive temps.
And finally...
A cute little pumpkin made it's way into my basket at the store.
We are finding Fall.

Monday, September 10, 2012

measure your life in love


I don't have a bucket list or a life list or a 30 by 30 list.
But if I did, this night would have totally been on it.
The evening began with Leah and me and margaritas in Greenwich Village.
Off to a good start.
By 7:25pm we were in a cab, rain falling, a light drizzle.
I applied my favorite red lips by the light on my iphone, bouncing this way and that. Priorities.
I had not spent all these years anticipating this very moment to show up with a dull pout.
7:50 and we were out of the cab and running to New World Stages.
A happy, excited run, the end was in sight. We needed our umbrellas at this point.
10th row from the front and we were in our seats.
We caught our breath.
I couldn't tell if it was the short run or the simple fact that the show was about to begin that had my heart in paces.
Probably a bit of both, but mostly the latter.
The production was perfect. Better than I had imagined or hoped.
The moment I'd waited for came.
The company lined the stage for Seasons of Love.
I have sung this song driving down the road, in my living room, with my pal Lindsay.
Often times, at the top of my lungs much to Justin's chagrin.
I'm not going to lie... I cried. It was absolutely beautiful and moving and electric.
We made our mark on the Create wall in the foyer.
Appropriate since that show made a mark on me.
Our nightcap was a slice of cheesecake from Juniors with remarks like,
You know we live here.
We actually live here.
We were walking back to the subway high on every emotion from our drizzly night.
What if we see someone famous?! Leah jokingly asked,
as we passed droves of people waiting outside theatres for that one glimpse of so-and-so.
We were almost to our station when we saw him.
And heaven help us, we couldn't contain our laughter.
Admist young and old alike, iPhones flashed and cameras snapped.
Snoop Dogg.
We measured our night and laughed all the way home.
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In five-hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
a year in the life?
Measure your life in love.

Monday, September 3, 2012

celebrating a big day

Leah had always wanted to go to Upright Citizens.
Her big day, a pretty significant birthday, arrived.
We'd narrowed our dinner options to Mexican. The final decision was upscale or hole-in-the-wall.
We went upscale and it was a delicious decision.
Some of the best quesadillas and margaritas you ever did taste.
We talked best birthday memories and most lame gifts... Justin is a master question asker.
She thought the evening was over and thanked us for her celebration.
But we had other plans.
A short cab ride later, we arrived for an hour of hilarious comedy.
Leah's jaw dropped when she heard Justin tell the cabbie where we were going.
I won't ever forget the look on her face... pure shock and awe.
I love a good celebration.
It doesn't have to be a grand affair to say, You are valued and worthwhile and celebrated.
I think the point is just to say it.
To make sure the people in your life know that you are made better by them, and that without them, life would be a little less full.
Lucky for Leah, her cake had three candles.


You know you're getting old when you get that one candle on the cake.
It's like, 'See if you can blow this out.'
Jerry Seinfeld

Friday, August 24, 2012

A recipe for your weekend

My granny has a recipe called Koolie Cookies.
I have no idea how they got their name, but let me tell you, they are better than good.
My granny would send me back to college with a making of the salty sweet treat & they would last about 15 minutes between my pal Amy and me.
It's quick and it's easy. Probably too quick and easy.
You need 1 cup of each
light (not dark) corn syrup
peanut butter (crunchy or creamy)
a bag of fritos (scoops or regular)
Spread fritos closely together onto parchment paper, tin foil or a baking sheet.
sugar, then syrup, then peanut butter

 Mix sugar and syrup in a boiler over medium heat.
Add peanut butter and stir until blended together.
Pour evenly over fritos.
Cool for at least an hour. Cut into squares.
Congratulate yourself on self-control and enjoy.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Down South │Visiting family & friends


Going to Alabama means visiting the place where roots run deep, hugs are more common than handshakes, and everyone is eager to hear if our Southern accents have taken a Northern brogue.
It means flowers in bloom and lamplight and lace curtains.
It's boiled peanuts and fried everything and Dad's homemade biscuits in a cast iron skillet older than me.
It's pear salad and deviled eggs and fresh cream corn.
It's wide open spaces and driving cars and sunsets that make me pause.
It's humidity that fogs my lens and Mama hemming my pants.
It's reunions at my collegiate stomping grounds and feeling like an official grown-up.
It's little girls watching with wide-eyed wonder the college girls they will all too quickly become.
It's playing iPad games with a favorite 3-year-old and melting when he tells the lady at the ice cream counter,
This is JUSTIN! as if J were Santa Claus himself.
It's late night decorating projects and laughing 'til I hurt.
It's early morning coffee dates and well-worn pajamas.
It's meeting the dearest of friends for margaritas and wishing the night would never end.
It's welcoming brand new life and hugging tightly the old.
It's grace and love and some of the most restful sleep.
The place where roots run deep.