"switching roles" OR "freaky friday"

sometimes you think they look delicious

other times, they think you look delicious

goat..... look delicious? yes. of course.
i would never have thought it could be so delicious
until i ate at APPLEWOOD
for our anniversary last year
then again, i was pregnant

i haven't had goat since that night
maybe it was P who really liked the goat

well, i guess i will just have to go back a see
one cannot leave something of this nature unresolved
it would be quite irresponsible
anyone care to join me? who's up for some goat?

P.S. The pictures of P with the goat were taken in the county on an outing with some friends. P looks happy here, but not but a few hours later, once full of freshly picked apples, bobolink dairy cheese, ice cream, and rustic bread, he proceeded to "lose his lunch" so to say, over and over and over again. We were in the middle of nowhere; far from home; no extra clothes; no extra "binky" (which matters because Andy threw it out with the handful of vomit he was holding, having no desire to dig through it to retrieve it). I was on the verge of tears the whole time as Andy and I tried to help him through this sudden 24 hour stomach bug that decided to pummel him on our Halloween day trip. It still makes me nauseous to think about.

new discoveries

Someone in this picture just discovered the slide at the park.

Someone in this picture has no fear at the playground.

Someone in this picture has not yet grasped the concept of gravity.

Somone in this picture missed a nap that day (don't let any smiles fool you).

Someone in this picture wishes it was still warm enough for that yellow dress and that we could have a slide in the apartment.

A Kingly Gift

Gal pal Val gave me an heirloom Brandywine tomato at book club the other day.

its delicious fate: BST (bacon, spinach, and tomato sandwich)

shared with the one I love

it was heavenly

they say an apple a day.....

P-umpkin and I went apple picking with the ladies a couple weeks ago.

It was fantastic fall weather and the fall colors were brilliant.

We picked apples, explored a hay bale maze, picked out a pumpkin, and had a horse eat P's arm.

A really wonderful day I must say.

Deere John,

Why yes, Kenny, I DO think his tractor is sexy.

Don't you think acres of land and a tractor suit Andy just right?

Well, I do. What is a chore to some, is a holiday to others.

Evening Ramble

Behind Alanna's home is a little lake/pond and hiking trails. So we took a late afternoon stroll. I wish my backyard could boast so much space and beauty..... more than that, I wish I had a backyard.

P.S. look a sweet P's brown eyes in the second to last photo.....at that moment, I would have given him anything he wanted. Who could resist that? Who, I ask?

"latter-day prophets are number one: Joseph Smith, then Brigham Young"

(come on, you knows the words, think back to your primary days)

We visited Sharon, VT. It is the birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith. It was a beautiful, powerful, and memorable experience for me. The monument stands 38 1/2 feet tall, one foot for every year of the Prophet's life.

boiling ball of glass

We went to Simon Pearce while in Vermont. It carries blown glass and handmade pottery. They had a workshop that was open to the public to view the actual glass blowing process. Two things I know for sure: 1) I want to learn how to blow glass 2) I am fairly certain that purple tie-dye t-shirt that has been deprived of its sleeves is part of the standard issue uniform at Simon Pearce

Something of note: the craftsman must always be spinning the pole that the glass is attached to. If he stops, even for a second, the glass will deform, and even break off. It was such an intersting process to watch. I was mesmerized. I couldn't take my eyes of him. I think he might have got the wrong idea.....

I was sooooo close to convincing Andy to buy me a vase or bowl or something from simon pearce. (I use the term "sooooo" loosely here.) The pieces are magnificient. They make a mark on the bottom of each piece where it was attatched to the pole to indicate that it was handmade. The glass is so clear and thick. Check it out, then try to convince your husband to get you that cake stand you have been dreaming about, or maybe a cupcake stand....why not right?

(only a mere $65)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Completed the 3rd book. I may retract this later, but so far, after having read all the books, I think this one is still my favorite. I like it most I think because for so long, Harry had no real family to call his own. In this book, he meets his godfather, escaped-convict, though wrongfully accused, Sirus Black. And for a moment (though brief) Harry has a home with his dad's best friend. Of course, it never actually happens for Harry, but in the briefest of moments, Harry and Sirus are supremely happy with their plans to have Harry leave the Dursleys and move in with Sirus.

I also quite enjoyed the Time-Turner. I never saw it coming. I love when I don't see it coming. I had no idea what Hermione was doing all semester, allowing her to attend so many classes.

Lastly, I love that Harry's patronus is a stag, what his father transfigured into. Little moments like these tie Harry to his parents. The parents that seemed unreachable and unknowable while living with the Dursleys, slowly layer by layer become known to Harry while at Hogwarts: knowing that he looks just like his dad, but has his mother's eyes, and possessing many qualities of both parents. Harry finds out more and more about his parents, and though he doesn't remember them, those familial ties start to grow and strengthen. And while he doesn't physically have his family, his parents are ever present in small ways it seems.

"Vermont, Vermont" OR "Sweet Nectar of Life"

Alanna is quite friendly.

She makes friends with complete strangers.

One stranger-turned-friend happens to own tons of land with maple trees

and from those maple trees, he makes syrup.

His name is Les.

Les gave us a quick tour of his place and a crash course on how maple syrup is made.

I was speechless.......................

And this is my solemn vow:

I WILL NEVER BUY IMITATION SYRUP AGAIN. NEVER.

(Les humored me and took a picture with us, good sport)

First of all, Les and his wife were some of the nicest people I have met in a very long time (not counting Brent and Alanna). When we met Les, he was chopping wood to fuel the fires he would need in the spring to boil his sap into syrup (NOTE: it takes 40-60 gallons of maple sap to make 1 gallon of pure maple syrup). I was so impressed (and insanely jealous) of their set up on Sugarland Farm. Les said when he and his wife were young, they were hippies, and there was this big movement to get back to the land. He and his wife bought all this land in Vermont, and eventually realized there were maple trees and wondered if they could make their own syrup, and some 30 or more years later, here they are making 2000+ gallons of maple syrup a year. I was in awe of his knowlege concerning the syrup method, and improvements he had made with his machinery to be more efficient (like running the pipes carrying cold sap over the steam of the heated sap to "preheat it" and use less fuel in the long run, and using reverse osmosis to remove a large portion of the water that would need to me boiled off otherwise).

Even more so than his one man production (plus a few seasonal hire-ons to help out), I was extremely impressed by how self sufficient the process was. The trees provide more than enough sap every spring. Trees that fall natually every year supply the fuel he needs to run his operation. And every year, more maples start to grow. What an intimate relationship with nature. I love it, and living in a concrete jungle, I envy it (I tried hard not to be envious, but in this situation, you can see how it would be easy for one to slip up!).

My mom, axious to get her hands on large quanties of the "real stuff", asked if he had maple syrup there we could buy from him. Luckily he still had a few jugs left. Yes, I said jugs. My mom bought a GALLON, and we bought a HALF-GALLON, and all for the wholesale price, which means we probably paid 1/3 what most would pay for real Vermont Maple Syrup. I guess you can say that "I know a guy".

summit or launch

While in Vermont, we went to Mt. Ascutney. We drove most of the way to the top and had intentions of hiking the remaining mile to the summit, but then we saw a fork in the trail with 2 signs: <------Launch 0.4 miles, -----> Summit 0.6 miles, (right behind me in this picture)

And while Andy and I are always aiming for mountain summits, curiousity won over, and off we went to the "launch site". Launch site for what you might ask???? For people naturally.....

There were no hang gliders, though I wish there had been. That is were the curiosity got us. I was hoping to see someone launch. Does that make me sick to want to see someone jump off a cliff? Surely not. They have man-made wings after all, and I myself could likely be convinced to do jump as well with a little training on the glider.

Instead, we took pictures and breathed deeply the gusts of crisp

autumn air coming up from the valley to our lofty location.

Pete loved the hike, we let him down for a bit to try his hand at the uneven terrain, though never letting go of my hand, he fell in love. This boy is just like his parents, made for the outdoors, especially with that puffy vest (thank you Grandma!).

He picked up a leaf, and break my heart, refused to let go of it

for at least an hour. It was disgustingly adorable, no other word for it.

He also loved sitting on my dad's shoulders as well, and who wouldn't;

I would like to go hiking and do none of the work,

but Andy wouldn't carry me on his shoulders.

I can't fathom why.............

(our gracious host, Brent and Alanna)

We never did make it to the summit. We were running out of daylight and besides a promised game of golf (not me of couse, ha, can you even imagine), we had a treat in store for us.....More on that later.

my very own 'harry'

like all women, i had an absurd mental check list of things my husband would have or be

first and foremost on my list of appearance was:

dark hair

blue eyes

but who knew green could be so dreamy.....

(picture taken in Vermont, in a forest somewhere)

Completed

My favorite part about this book is similar to the previous book in that it deals with Harry's connection to Voldemort. Harry finds out that when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby, he transfered some of his powers to Harry (parsel tongue for example). Harry has for the past two years always doubted himself a little as a member of the Gryffindor house because the sorting Hat from his first year at school seriously considered putting him in Slytherin (the house to which Voldemort belonged). At the close of book 2, Dumbledore assures Harry that even though there are striking resemblences between him and Voldemort, he is different in very key ways (and it is those ways that ultimately help Harry defeat Voldemort).

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck.
"It certainly seems so."
"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and
it-"
"Put you in Gryffindor, "said Dumbledore calmly. "listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his
hand-picked student. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue - resourcefulness - dertermination - a certain disregard for rules," he added, his
mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."
"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I
asked not to go in Slytherin...."
"Exactly," said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very
different from Tom Riddle (Voldemort). It is our choices, Harry, that show
what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Dumbledore goes on to tell him that the sword he pulls from the Sorting Hat to defeat the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was none other than Godric Gryffindor's sword and only a true Gryffindor could have done that. At this point, Harry seems to doubt himself less and find confidence as a memeber of that noble house. Its a defining moment for Harry.

where have you been all my life, cape cod, where?

“The Sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

--Jacques Cousteau

Road Trip with the 'rents

What should have been a very short drive to Cape Cod turned out to be a day full of.............

road side picnics

roadside stands with pumpkins, gourds,

and lots of 2009 crop apples,

and discovering what rural life is like

(which apparently includes lots of hay).

Pete liked testing the pumpkins to see if he could get a good sound out of them. It was really cute.

Happy Birthday Sweet P

At this exact moment last year, P-nut was born, and I became a mother. I'm not sure whether

Andy and I were ready to be parents at that moment, but P was ready to be our son. I can't

believe its been a year, yet I can't remember what it was like to not have P around. I like the

changes that his life has brought to ours. They have been hard, but more than worth it. I was

apprehensive about becoming a mother, I won't lie. I didn't think I would like it. But I do. So

thank you Pete, for making me a mother, the most rad thing I have every done and Happy

Birthday Sweet Pete, Happy Birthday.

New England

Goodbye Brooklyn. Hello Cape Cod and Vermont. This is a much anticipated and much needed trip for my workhorse of a husband (and that workhorse makes is so I can stay home with Sweet P so thank you workhorse!!!!). More to come......

One Year Ago Today......

I was huge. I was sleepy. And at 1:30 in the morning, my water broke.....all over Andy, the bed, my chocolate brown velor pants, and the black car we called to take us to the hospital. (normally I would feel bad about that but he wanted to drop us off a city avenue block away from the hospital so he wouldn't have to hassle with one way streets to turn around......."uh, I'm having a baby, and paying you $40 bones, so you can drop me off at the door to the ER, thank you very much!")

Harry Potter and the Socerer's Stone

Book Completed. Favorite part:

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.
Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes,
indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well...how curious...how very curious..."
He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown
paper, still muttering, "Curious...curious..."
"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar."

The reason I like this particular part so much is that it is the beginning of a relationship between the hero and the villain. One who is seen and known by the reader and the other whose presence is felt and the affects of his existence always apparent. Harry is tied to Voldermort, and Voldermort to Harry, and this is the first instance where that it made "curiously" apparent. I remember the first time I read this section, it gave me chills. Does that make me a nerd??? If so, I will gladly accept the title.

......finally

Each year as soon as the autumn season passes, I anxiously await its return. And return it has. The heat has broken, a chill has set in, the geese are honking as they make their way south, and I couldn't be more pleased. Now Brooklyn does not yet look like these pictures, but she is on her way (yes, I do believe Brooklyn, if assigned a gender, would be female, a totally cool, earthy, yoga doing, organic food consuming, handemade devotee who may or may not wash her hair only once a week). I remember my first fall here, only one year ago. It was full of big changes for our family with the addition of Sweet-P. I am looking forward to sharing this fall with Andy (whose tax season ended 1 month early! THANK YOU IRS) and P (who, by the way, is walking like he was born to do it, video to come shortly for those grandparents who are dying to see it). It is sure to be the best yet.

(top: apple picking in the county with gal pal val and uncle seamus,

right middle: james at Greenwood Cemetery,

left middle: Prospect Park, right bottom: brownstone block in park slope brooklyn,

left bottom: leaf from Greenwood Cemetery)

In the fall, in addition to wanting to buy school supplies (whether I am in school or not), sending bouquets of newly sharpened pencils, and watching You've Got Mail over and over again, I have the strong desire to read Harry Potter. So, I am giving in, I am starting from the beginning and going through to the final book. More on that later.......

Happy Native American Day

This is for you Valerie....and for you too Allen (stop watching me out of the corner of your eye).

Image found here http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_first_rays/3897658774/sizes/o/

Tot Lot in Prospect Park

*There is a little playground in Prospect Park, and when I say little,

I mean it quite literally. The equipment is all about 1/3 the size of

a normal playground, just the right size for little guys like Pete.

It's a Tot Lot.

for me, not so easily forgotten

(Overly patriotic 16 year old Shiloh....I don't think

its possible to be overly patriotic, do you?)

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was my senior year of high school. I was at school early for a student council meeting. My first class of the day was a free period (I would normally be at home sleeping but I had that meeting) so I stayed in the student council room to watch TV. Maybe I would catch a little Martha Stewart before my government/economics class.

But Martha wasn't on. Only the news. It was horrible. I watched live as the second plane hit the twin towers. I kept hoping it was a sick coincidence. My stomach dropped as I and the rest of the nation realized that to our horror, this wasn't an accident. I was completely overwhelmed, as if I was standing on the very streets where it was happening. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, all I could do was cry. Tears just streamed down my face.

My country, the country that I love, had been attacked. I obviously wasn't alive during the bombing of Peal Harbor, but I think I have a glimpse of what people then must have felt. And for that matter, what many people face everyday in other countries. How could this happen? Here?!? I wanted to be there to help the people. I loved New Yorkers then. I was so proud of how they responded, how America responded. We were one. We worked together for the good of our people. For a little while at least, we did not bicker about who was to blame, who could have prevented this, who will pay for this? We just saw the need and worked together. Its sad that such tragedy was the only way to bring us together, if only for a short amount of time.

I live in New York City now, as you likely already know. I remember my first visit to where the Twin Towers once stood. It was 4 1/2 years after 9/11. The city is full of hustle and bustle and all times of the day and night. No time to stop, keep walking, keep walking. And endless noise, the people, the cars, the construction. But when we walked up to the fence surrounding the site, a quiet fell. People stood still, looked upon the hole with solemnity, and spoke only in whispers. A man stood near the fence and played on his flute "Amazing Grace". For some that might have ruined the experience. But it was so quiet, and so beautifully played. It brought back all those feelings that I can't describe. I cried silently. I was honored to be here , in NYC, to take note of what happened, to personally pay my respects to those who had fallen, to the innocent and the brave.

I have been back since then. Its not the same. It has only been 8 years and life goes on as normal. The heavy quiet that once resided there is filled with construction, chatty tourists, and street vendors trying to make a buck off of the unfortunate event. How quickly people forget. How quickly we go back to our politics, our opinions, our lives. But I like to remember how we were then. How we were when it happened. How we came together and we acted as one.

(Trinity Root, bronze casting)

A sycamore tree sheltered St. Paul's Chapel from the blast created by the falling towers. The tree itself was ripped out of the ground. St. Paul's Chapel was not harmed in the least, which is amazing since it sits directly across the street from the twin towers, and you know what happened to the surrounding buildings when the towers fell. They did not fare so well. The artist made a mold of the stump from the tree and with other tree segments made a large sculpture called Trinity Root to stand as a testament to life, humanity and the positive response to the catastrophe.

would you rather......

would you rather be at home inexplicably throwing up.......

or drink a 1/4 of subway water?????

If you said neither, you are smart.

I bet you wish you were at the dessert truck on a warm summer night

as opposed to at home throwing up.

Get better soon, and then lets go on a cool fall night

and get dessert.

Sudden and Unexpected OR Ticking Time Bomb

Appendixes, who needs them right?!?!

Get better soon lady. I am sad you will miss the campout.

Good thing you went last weekend right.

An Affair to Remember

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it, when I sorrow most;

'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

~Alfred Lord Tennyson

Its hard to lose someone you love. Sometimes its harder when it was never meant to be. Our love was a forbidden love. Our torrid romance was fraught with lies and deceit. You were so unfaithful, but oh how we loved. They will write books about us that can be picked up as you checkout at the grocery store. Thoughts of you will always pull at my heartstrings. I will never forget you........

1997 Jeep Cherokee Sport

green with tan interior

less than 97,000 miles

4x4

4.0 liter 6 cylinder engine

automatic transmission

full size spare

tow package

luggage rack

grill guard

runs great!

Price Negotiable

We bought a car. Did I ever mention that? Probably not. We bought it a mere month and a half ago and "yada yada yada" I sold the car tonight to our neighbor. I will spare you the details of the purchasing, the owning, and the selling. We (Andy and I) are just trying to forget it ever happened.

Mr. Tennyson, I hate to say it, but I do not agree with you on this one. I would rather not have loved and lost. It didn't work for Poe and his lost Lenore, and it isn't going to work for me and my Jeep who now drives for another.

Andy, you can relax now. Lets get through busy season and then go to Vermont. What do you say??? Maybe a fall festival on Long Island? And how about a bike ride to the pier? Can I buy a bike with a basket and a baby seat for sweet-P? What time do you get home tonight? Sooner than later I hope.

my last real day of summer

Jacob Riis Park (beach)

Sun, sand, friends, babes, beach umbrellas, carrot sticks, and a big box of Trader Joes Oreos. A good way to end it all.

for grandma D and grandma A

I think congratulations are in order

Depression

My level of happiness is in direct relation to how many times a week I get to run.

I love to run. I haven't run in almost 3 weeks.

I have a stress fracture in my left leg just below my knee.

I have been running on it since right before the Brooklyn Half Marathon.

It came from overuse.

I just ignored it, like I usually do with pain. Its how I was raised. I was a gymnast.

Pain is ignored and pushed through.

This can't be pushed through. It will be noticed and time will be paid.

How much time?

Well, if I am lucky (which I likely will not be considering how long I ran on it)

1 MONTH.

But more likely, 2 MONTHS, and maybe more.

There is nothing to be done for it but to give it time to heal. Time off the pavement.

Consequently, I feel that sadness that comes, quite unexplainable, when I miss a run.

I have a shorter fuse.

I have anxieties.

I have no motivation for anything.

Its funny what a run does for me. And now that I can't do it, I don't know what to do.

My running shoes look lonely, and I am lonely for them.

I miss that time to myself. Early in the morning. Just me and Brooklyn.

Before the noise. Before the people. Just me, Prospect Park, and a few other running devotees.