tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60953919226040356292024-03-19T08:49:34.465-04:00truth and beautyAn ongoing quest for the meaning of life. Does true happiness exist in a Tory Burch turquoise-trimmed sheath, a MarieBelle Dark Chocolate Croquette bar, a rose garden, a rocky Maine beach, a daughter's eyes, an inky star-sprinkled sky, hours of computer keystrokes that tell a story--or all of the above?Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.comBlogger4439125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-32266228774461914852024-03-18T21:17:00.006-04:002024-03-19T08:48:44.679-04:00Is 8:30 p.m. Too Early for Bed?<p><span style="font-family: inherit;">No. It is not too early. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I rose at 7:45 a.m., brewed a big pot of Copper Cow Vietnamese vanilla coffee, cooked tortellini and sauce to put in Punchy's lunch tote, handled a visit from the plumber and his assistant about our broken garbage disposal, weathered high-octane stress and drama before Punch went to school, did my weekly DBT therapy on telehealth and worked on assignments and/or invoices for three clients. I didn't even take a nap. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJJaCWVho7Um-DmdqczTXh-Z1gPRymV2QwEt43av0_DHuN65QLz-2LJNUfvLED_MDzMKtpVrJSO3piNUlKmVcFWuMUik3NDYpSwrW3bHTlO2XqJRZoJ7zw5957GpHvAIdky4bJxhbhgg_oqpT3ytumuaUKXVCA8xGAYOTxDB4JrTJ7y9RBi7s-pKL88I/s1021/8ed2cf400bffdc9af6440e00f04ae6b0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1021" data-original-width="975" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbJJaCWVho7Um-DmdqczTXh-Z1gPRymV2QwEt43av0_DHuN65QLz-2LJNUfvLED_MDzMKtpVrJSO3piNUlKmVcFWuMUik3NDYpSwrW3bHTlO2XqJRZoJ7zw5957GpHvAIdky4bJxhbhgg_oqpT3ytumuaUKXVCA8xGAYOTxDB4JrTJ7y9RBi7s-pKL88I/s320/8ed2cf400bffdc9af6440e00f04ae6b0.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>See Eloise at the top of the ladder? I love this illustration by Hilary Knight from the story of a little girl that I used to read to Figgy sometimes at bedtime. I will pretend I'm reading it to myself now. Image from <a href="https://www.pinterest.co.kr/pin/380132024768205970/" target="_blank">here.</a> </i></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bonus points because I</span> ate three healthy meals that included fruits and/or vegs instead of skittering into junk food.</p><p>B: Whipped cottage cheese with fresh strawberries.</p><p>L: Tuna on whole-grain with roasted red peppers on the side.</p><p>D: Leftover <a href="https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1020290-one-pot-pasta-with-ricotta-and-lemon" target="_blank">One-Pot Pasta with Ricotta and Lemon from the NY Times</a> that I made last night with elbow macaroni and handfuls of watercress and fresh spinach as Melissa Clark suggests in the intro. Pronounced notes of fresh lemon juice and peel, red pepper flakes, fine Parmigiano Reggiano sourced from <a href="https://www.vanhookcheese.com/" target="_blank">Van Hook Cheese & Grocery</a>, a fancy purveyor in Montclair. (I bought a small wedge at <a href="https://www.drygoodsrefillery.com/our-products-montclair" target="_blank">Dry Goods Refillery</a> on this end of town. It's fun to shop there, farm milk and eggs, solid shampoo bars, local products, tablets and glass spray bottles to make your own cleaning products instead of heaping more plastic in landfills.) </p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes, on Cape Cod, especially when Figgy was little and we had put her on the tandem bike behind Dan's bike and pedaled for miles on the bike path, we would be exhausted and all three hit the hay by 8:30, once we got back home. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">We are not on the Cape with a young girl but we are Monday-night tired. Time to lower the blinds and rest. And now it's closing in on 9:30.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Good night.</span></p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-56317957898393649892024-03-17T23:49:00.010-04:002024-03-17T23:54:36.065-04:00Tough Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi0bpeNiFUdoR9yD2aoi6CTdTTMKKcgx3gm9GxjWHArTRk6kn33V-KNh8WIlQAafOARxeFrnOApCG_0SCm0WBQpgRN8QzRfAQ5Zd4-v_8Ts1dHJEbhkEtATaOJ45LV4cZTVhMZkQAyCV5PI9DqgG93bEJja5W0CN4ZKjMnkXkHyZKPGaxCaXC50CTytU/s180/th-17.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="128" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi0bpeNiFUdoR9yD2aoi6CTdTTMKKcgx3gm9GxjWHArTRk6kn33V-KNh8WIlQAafOARxeFrnOApCG_0SCm0WBQpgRN8QzRfAQ5Zd4-v_8Ts1dHJEbhkEtATaOJ45LV4cZTVhMZkQAyCV5PI9DqgG93bEJja5W0CN4ZKjMnkXkHyZKPGaxCaXC50CTytU/s1600/th-17.jpg" width="128" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Image from <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/pin/826692075320356811/" target="_blank">here.</a></i></div></i><p>And the forecast calls for another tough one tomorrow. But winds and weather can change. And also, umbrellas and rain boots do exist.</p><p>And I am taking care of myself, so I don't slip and slide in the storm.</p><p>Good night.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-9068568275286975692024-03-16T16:46:00.022-04:002024-03-17T11:03:38.819-04:007 Dating & Sex Trends I Don't Understand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aMxcBXlMogyRN-TfFMnBBP9QNLcuWTtJouDnDfFyE5wLMFXlU_LdlmZLsJ42PCfUD2mUKcOEfpme7IIRTTMI3DyHREBrYl-Dy5f05UPEvFP5z8FoSLOuwM9j6Nm9dqtrDKFn_znfS4seGmUtOypLfO0yuUe7-YH4vsbfFkJ2q_dlCU9mwWzDrmLkwhk/s270/th-16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="270" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aMxcBXlMogyRN-TfFMnBBP9QNLcuWTtJouDnDfFyE5wLMFXlU_LdlmZLsJ42PCfUD2mUKcOEfpme7IIRTTMI3DyHREBrYl-Dy5f05UPEvFP5z8FoSLOuwM9j6Nm9dqtrDKFn_znfS4seGmUtOypLfO0yuUe7-YH4vsbfFkJ2q_dlCU9mwWzDrmLkwhk/s1600/th-16.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Ryan O'Neal and Ali MacGraw in "Love Story," the blockbuster 1970 film. Image from </i><i><a href="https://www.lololovesfilms.com/" target="_blank">Lolo Loves Films</a> blog. Thanks, Lolo. <span style="font-family: inherit;">(The <span style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; text-align: left;">movie review site is run by two married critics who write about new Hollywood releases and classic cinema.)</span></span></i></p><p>I know, times change, and the young among us help the older face new realities and codes. </p><p>When I was a teenager in 1975, and Title IX opened the door for girls like me to run on previously boys-only high school athletic teams, such as cross-country and spring track, my mother, born in New York City in 1924, expressed discomfort and disapproval. </p><p>"You're running around in your underwear," she said. And we did run around the school track, and around town for practice, in our 1970s shorts.</p><p>My mother also protested when I got my ears pierced ("I'm not helping you turn the posts," she said, and she didn't) and when I walked to a beauty salon in Bergenfield to get my thick eyebrows tweezed and my long hair shaped into a more modern angled cut. I guess she did not want me to grow up, or was uncomfortable with a perceived sexual awakening (but trust me, I was pretty repressed, though had a few boyfriends).</p><p>Without acknowledging that any of the things I'm about to list have anything to do with the young people in my immediate circle, or in my sight line, I don't fully comprehend these seven social mores of 2024:</p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Having sex with people with whom you are not in a committed relationship.</li><li>Having sex with someone the first time you meet them.</li><li>Having phone sex with someone you never met, except on the internet.</li><li>Having unprotected sex.</li><li>Having an open relationship in which both partners "can" have sex with other people. </li><li>Trying to get pregnant, or being open to the possibility, with the goal of trapping a man. Or vice versa, with the man wanting a pregnancy to trap a woman.</li><li>Not realizing that when you are under the influence of a substance, you might make dumb or dangerous mistakes and not think clearly--such as having sex with someone you didn't intend to have sex with.</li></ol><div>As I said, I was and regrettably still am repressed. If you've been my friend a while, you know that. And this list does not even address gender and sexual fluidity, which also confuses me sometimes. I support the rights of people to be that way and yet when it comes right down to it, if it is or were in my family, I am still confused. Please forgive me, I do not mean to be offensive.</div><div><br /></div><div>And #1--I know people do that. And I guess if I were not in a marriage/committed relationship, and one didn't seem to be waiting around the corner, then I might want to do that, too. With protection. Not sure. And #2--I happen to know at least two mostly happy couples (one long-married, one younger) who did that. It does mystify me. I think having sex is a big deal and too big a deal for the first time you meet. I think it leaves you vulnerable and that you gave away too much too soon. But maybe just for high school or college people? I don't know.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">And: I know it's sexist, but IDK if I would have the same worries about 1, 2 and 3 for a young man as I would for a young woman.....so is it about protecting a woman's virtue, or heart? Thinking she will lose too much and not recover? That she will pine after someone? Or is it a glaring double standard? </span></div><div><br /></div><div>Please LMK what you think. I know I can be judgy. Thank you.</div><p></p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-32062193126103983872024-03-15T21:19:00.021-04:002024-03-16T20:20:22.290-04:00Writing of Washing Machines<p>Today I wrote long and hard about the nuts and bolts of the best front-loading washing machines. By that I mean the superior models as judged by professional colleagues in thorough hands-on testing. The smartest front loaders, with intuitive sensors and features, apps to control cycles from the living room, etc. And just like wanting a new winter coat, wool sweater or dark chocolate brand when writing about those, I want one of these, too. Hell, all the ones the editors picked are excellent, but the four below stand out for me. I also love the color choices like Candy Apple Red, Champagne and Forest Green to elevate a drudge chore to glory. </p><p>Our old white Whirlpool top-loader keeps powering on, so I will not be getting one of these any time soon. But when I see my sister's neatly stacked washer and dryer off the kitchen; my sister-in-law Eileen's handy setup of two big, nice-looking front loaders right off the bathroom; and my sister-in-law Martha's side by side machines, also near the bathroom, I want that. We have to walk from the top floor to the basement--4 flights of stairs--to get to our very basic laundry setup. We have lived in our home since 1994, a full 30 years this coming November. We inherited/purchased the previous owners' washer and dryer and had to replace both at least once in these three decades.</p><p>Noting sexism: Why do I say "Martha's" machines when she lives with her husband/my brother-in-law Pat? Laundry is not only a woman's domain anymore, not even in my house. And I think it's the technological advances, the bells and whistles, that are drawing more and more men into the laundry room. That and the fact that they need clean clothing and towels and their partners are busy living life, whether they work hard (chore and family wise and/or professionally) at home or away. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs56vlLfwB2x_5WweFrVrNclm8PRfzx75-lqAYVI7Er8W1OSAd3UaUUvvcrxJw-Wzc8aemhxE3jkhB4mLg1xYjQMWuSMiAyeTNa1XD5IidGROJSEuomVOmNjgo2IMioLEWvnh7lmNDZUD6F-C3L7JJsoud6jxk933dfHI8sBQlLkHIUCIpDD5zFiUQNhk/s180/th-15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="145" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs56vlLfwB2x_5WweFrVrNclm8PRfzx75-lqAYVI7Er8W1OSAd3UaUUvvcrxJw-Wzc8aemhxE3jkhB4mLg1xYjQMWuSMiAyeTNa1XD5IidGROJSEuomVOmNjgo2IMioLEWvnh7lmNDZUD6F-C3L7JJsoud6jxk933dfHI8sBQlLkHIUCIpDD5zFiUQNhk/s1600/th-15.jpg" width="145" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>LG WashTower in Candy Apple Red, about $2,500 or more. </i><i>The washer and dryer are connected, with one control panel in the middle.</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91O9yDlXdsdwYNnWyTpa7VdIAljNDvKXpXnQL_Vo4ceRuVUdssSjDfkUIiGvcUi6jTJxKsy8ec4O0M0mDZtgaOu3hjOJDnCZIMcICz4OKCh1kY-gbO5w_E2lqYkjJQM46XvkzPGICnJHpqxk_DziFjcRJanf6VZQbWSzqpg1vxsHQxackCftJpMdtiow/s201/th-13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="201" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh91O9yDlXdsdwYNnWyTpa7VdIAljNDvKXpXnQL_Vo4ceRuVUdssSjDfkUIiGvcUi6jTJxKsy8ec4O0M0mDZtgaOu3hjOJDnCZIMcICz4OKCh1kY-gbO5w_E2lqYkjJQM46XvkzPGICnJHpqxk_DziFjcRJanf6VZQbWSzqpg1vxsHQxackCftJpMdtiow/s1600/th-13.jpg" width="201" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Beko RecycledTub front-load washer. The eco tub is made from 60 recycled plastic bottles. In white, it costs about $1,400 online.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUkESWwe0ETyFuRXq47txgHDX3RoZfOs98Q0cxUvEYGdkBUuK44PA53C2AAUldwcT1ZVtgiO7ts9cJhCst2G3g36oJl8IU6yJPmFD1m1Issg5sg0qivne7B9QKciMxOWnNGS8lpXIG2ZimhQh4c8V9dLbeZ5xYRParkQt4PAM5hWqEDP91hB7Kwba8wo/s350/1710373105-wxr860wcs-160dcca6678c6b7.53088682_f88cd.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="234" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUkESWwe0ETyFuRXq47txgHDX3RoZfOs98Q0cxUvEYGdkBUuK44PA53C2AAUldwcT1ZVtgiO7ts9cJhCst2G3g36oJl8IU6yJPmFD1m1Issg5sg0qivne7B9QKciMxOWnNGS8lpXIG2ZimhQh4c8V9dLbeZ5xYRParkQt4PAM5hWqEDP91hB7Kwba8wo/s320/1710373105-wxr860wcs-160dcca6678c6b7.53088682_f88cd.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Miele washer in Lotus White with QuickIntenseWash cycle, over $2,000. I also want a pretty Miele canister vacuum in Curry Yellow. I've gone into the vacuum store on Valley Road to fawn over one. But it costs over $800. Maybe one day, bc I believe it will work and work and last and last. It will add fashion and beauty to our home, and our home will be cleaner.</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbyli2tiX7YFiNpx40rafLhHk55KRPPKT3vMMkK6vrsnpEC7XB2Iie3SlQ06iPAb0YmlCAvSRvw8QOpsT4awUwCA2S1bMm_9QPbtDl2CcX-35eLnK0Zp3vCtGK6yFSKLwmYZoFVLMzn8p8CbeoT1LJ3lwXjbrnU1HKr6_4LVAkBUGDOednWQI2i6lPGA/s665/niwajguqfggijsno6bmm__48606.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="638" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbyli2tiX7YFiNpx40rafLhHk55KRPPKT3vMMkK6vrsnpEC7XB2Iie3SlQ06iPAb0YmlCAvSRvw8QOpsT4awUwCA2S1bMm_9QPbtDl2CcX-35eLnK0Zp3vCtGK6yFSKLwmYZoFVLMzn8p8CbeoT1LJ3lwXjbrnU1HKr6_4LVAkBUGDOednWQI2i6lPGA/s320/niwajguqfggijsno6bmm__48606.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>GE Profile 2-in-1 Washer/Dryer Combo on sale on Amazon </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>for under $2,000 but about $2,500 on GE.com. Take a look at <a href="https://www.geappliances.com/ge/connected-appliances/ultrafast-2-in-1-washer-dryer-combo" target="_blank">this great video,</a> featuring a model who is definitely not June Cleaver but very modern. Love it.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Speaking of wringers, wringing and wringing one's hands, I'm trying to keep my distance from teen drama. No amount of hand wringing and stress can stop it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>That's it, that's all. Good night, let's float off on bubbles to dreamland.</div><p></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-36307527429632883252024-03-14T22:52:00.008-04:002024-03-14T23:04:26.421-04:00New Yorker Film Screening in Tribeca<p>I drove our Toyota Camry through the Tunnel, past the Meatpacking District and over old cobblestone streets into hip Tribeca to see a movie called "Little Wing," released yesterday by the streaming service Paramount+. It is based on a <i>New Yorker</i> piece about a girl and her pigeons, a true story by the writer Susan Orlean (author of <i>The Orchid Thief). </i>I got to talk briefly to Ms. Orlean after. I plan to blog about this tomorrow. (Punch has no school for teacher conference. I aim to rise early and tackle my article, again, and then later, after other paid work, I can blog.)</p><p>I received the jolt of energy and intellectual and cultural sophistication I sought when I left New Jersey for New York City at 5 p.m. And I saw that glamorous skyline, the lights glittering in the dark like pocketfuls of jewels scattered across a kingdom.</p><p>Good night.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-19570392516729709912024-03-13T21:43:00.008-04:002024-03-14T09:12:09.460-04:00Time to Eat Dinner, 9:41 p.m.<p>Tonight I'm making old-fashioned oats for Dan and me. We will have our bowlfuls with walnuts and fresh raspberries and baked apples and a little light (or table) cream. I have been working hard on an assignment. Dan wasn't feeling so great but feels better now so will have oat dinner, too.</p><p>I did walk around the block today and it felt good.</p><p>Good night.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-73492368506615815742024-03-12T23:08:00.016-04:002024-03-13T13:25:02.107-04:00Self-Care<p>I've been working for a long time to reclaim self-care. I somehow lost it when I became a mother, first gradually and then swiftly. Actually, it started sneakily when Dan and I were first "locked in" (a term used now to signify being in a committed relationship). But that is a story for another post.</p><p>Nice self-care today:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Walked around the block once.</li><li>Took a long bath with coconut oil and lavender. My body told me she needed a long soak, and I paid attention.</li><li>Listened to a novel on Kindle on our Alexa speaker. <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Letters-Eleanor-Roosevelt-Mary-Swigonski/dp/1737577887" target="_blank">Letters from Eleanor Roosevelt </a> </i>is set in the 1960s. I love it. "Alexa" read to me while I took a bath.</li><li>Ate turkey chili I made with peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic, EVOO and of course beans. That was healthy but unfortunately, my other eating today was not. It was scattered and rangy. And the more out of gear, fearful, anxious or hurt I feel, the rangier it gets. Also, having party leftovers in our house is a trigger for me (cheese, crackers etc.) Tomorrow is another day.</li><li>Related to my rangy eating, got tired and took a nap.</li><li>Went to support group in town at 7 p.m. Helpful and inspiring. It was a long haul during the pandemic without in-person meetings.</li><li>Threw in some laundry.</li></ul><div>Yes, even with all that, I did fit in some work.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good night, sweethearts.</div><div><br /></div><p></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-79429952624935748202024-03-11T22:38:00.028-04:002024-03-12T15:23:16.256-04:00Too Many Moving Parts on a Monday Night<p>Punchy's birthday gathering with some close family and friends fell this Monday night. I know a birthday is a special gift, and 17 is a special number. We remember some birthdays all of our lives. But for tonight, too many moving pieces, and stress.</p><p>Instead of ordering pizzas, now pricy, still carb-heavy, fattening, nonvegan for Fig--and our teen and her friends have them too often for a balanced life--we made a simple dinner. But it missed the mark. </p><p>Dan did his garlic bread with EVOO instead of butter or a mix of both, to accommodate vegan Figgy. For some reason, not so great (it usually is). I tried a new brand of Italian sausage, Italian chicken sausage. It tasted weird, even browned and served in good Rao's marinara sauce. We almost ran out of tortellini. Since that has cheese, I made plain pasta for Fig and meatless sauce for her and Dan. Most of us took steamed broccoli on our plates, including me, and then didn't eat it. </p><p>Even the expensive Muenster and Gouda from Kings were just....nothing to write home about. How can Gouda miss the mark?! The kitchen drain was clogged and Dan got out the plunger. The small, vegan, dairy-free Daiya key lime "cheezecake" from Whole Foods freezer--that was good.</p><p>Dan made the classic Baked Alaska/Alexa for Punch's bday but...don't ask. For years, he has mastered the three-layer extravaganza, but it takes planning and meringue can be finicky, and sense the baker's stress and haste. His Mom is failing, the six-sibling care plan is hard, our car broke down again, he's waiting to hear back from his agents on his book proposal, etc. etc. He had to drive Punchy's friend all the way back to her family's apartment in Fort Lee, unexpectedly. He took Fig's car, but that will end when she moves out later this month.</p><p>So we pared back to tighten our purse strings but it didn't reduce our stress. We pared back on gifts, too, but Punchy still liked the ones we got, including two potted hyacinths, one deep Easter purple, one pure white, because she loves their fragrance. Her big sister Figgy came through with the coveted white gift, Apple AirPods. This is Punch's third pair since sixth grade, the first pair stolen in middle school, the second pair lost. Fig said if she really wanted them, she would not get her a Christmas gift but get these for her birthday and she kept her word. Generous and true.</p><p>For the most part, except for me and Dan, who are human, after all, and quite imperfect, family and friends did not miss the mark nor did the two cute pets. We're all human. And I am fully aware that though this night proceeded in fits and starts, we are all still lucky to have each other, and the bday girl still enjoyed it. She said thank you several times. </p><p>Good night.</p><p><br></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-32862802529341759032024-03-10T23:19:00.019-04:002024-03-11T08:59:56.227-04:00Good Night, Oscars <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdaoNeXbDSU_WNhihu00vio1FWh5QoNNgbu1Pw6gzhAmxYWkVIReQ4HGVTTS_GmwNLY8-rgpxqwNSNell3_Z6wSX00dwfsvftsrlwRi8xiH9uPJKoQTHJGQVGqhPDNgZwdNCrodhiRJYG3XZWlBSMlDWpmUf3rBnR04c2Z74P0IIkG14UL97sbSigdAZY/s750/america-ferrera-2024-oscars-031024-57973b0161184071b67e372a30e176d3.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="750" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdaoNeXbDSU_WNhihu00vio1FWh5QoNNgbu1Pw6gzhAmxYWkVIReQ4HGVTTS_GmwNLY8-rgpxqwNSNell3_Z6wSX00dwfsvftsrlwRi8xiH9uPJKoQTHJGQVGqhPDNgZwdNCrodhiRJYG3XZWlBSMlDWpmUf3rBnR04c2Z74P0IIkG14UL97sbSigdAZY/s320/america-ferrera-2024-oscars-031024-57973b0161184071b67e372a30e176d3.webp" width="320" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>America Ferrara, from <a href="https://people.com/oscars-2024-america-ferrera-wears-barbie-pink-dress-red-carpet-photos-8604017" target="_blank">People Magazine's prompt online report.</a> </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Long live the "Barbie" movie phenomena.</i></div></i><p>Fun watching from home with Dan and Figgy. Dan lit a crackling fire and made popcorn in the kitchen. (I added butter to mine.) Fig and I loved the hairstyles, the dresses, the music, the men and that one pinstriped women's suit with sparkle on the pinstripes, the sheer, jeweled long sleeves on another lady winner's dress. We exclaimed over America Ferrara, bringing back memories of <i>The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants </i>young adult books by <span class="author notFaded" data-width="" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0f1111;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a class="a-link-normal" href="https://www.amazon.com/Ann-Brashares/e/B001H6L8MA/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #007185; text-decoration-line: none;">Ann Brashares</a> that </span></span>we both read when Fig was younger and then the two movies based on the books, with America in a starring role. We fawned over Ryan Gosling and Margot Robbie (Ken, Barbie). All three of us liked the music, especially "Ken," and some of the audience shenanigans.</p><p>In spite of herself, I guess feeling too separate in her own way to join us in the living room and watch, though I invited her, I caught Punchy catching singer <span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Billie Eilish onscreen. And when I noted from my stuffed chair that Al Pacino is old but has a new baby, she looked away from her group FaceTime call and bowl of cornflakes to sneak a peek at him, too, as she walked back upstairs.</span></span></p><p>I enjoyed a text thread with my friends Kim, Nan and Liz, who watched with friends and family in Brooklyn and Silver Spring, Maryland, and that was fun, too. Fast and furiously commenting! And earlier, Sis drove over from Connecticut to join for best <i>Oscar Shorts 2024: Documentary </i>at the Clairidge on Church Street. They were very good, with a social consience. My favorite, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Repair_Shop" target="_blank">"The Last Repair Shop,"</a> was also the Academy's favorite. So good, such close observation and heart.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWoo0R4tCpzid301iRok15iQrlgdwNo3xU049xUFrR3xu6on7j7RRDqgIhRG4Wpumj-gAhWEmQLIMDzOhNLAVHIWCpkzlKfd7ntSr2AuuxYP1f5WcmV2ABvzKXZKeFaelKxYgdUVpw3FoNQPzb3pMPqxwMk70TTCJjFTA2kW2gsjD3mGKnBSarZqXn5cc/s768/393222361_18387922762056038_1076471342997769625_n-768x573.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="768" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWoo0R4tCpzid301iRok15iQrlgdwNo3xU049xUFrR3xu6on7j7RRDqgIhRG4Wpumj-gAhWEmQLIMDzOhNLAVHIWCpkzlKfd7ntSr2AuuxYP1f5WcmV2ABvzKXZKeFaelKxYgdUVpw3FoNQPzb3pMPqxwMk70TTCJjFTA2kW2gsjD3mGKnBSarZqXn5cc/s320/393222361_18387922762056038_1076471342997769625_n-768x573.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>Good night. Monday morning will be here soon.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-31924808742485164802024-03-09T21:24:00.035-05:002024-03-10T12:56:47.137-04:00"Bye Bye Birdie"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCKj19YbuY3sOy2uPjacx15uLB55RxdFp4fEcmvvxXSnCAirNxyPzaEHIMt6ZZG1cuqzrkSUcCiBEmp5CnuruMdh-kWEiuYGJ2LOCN4MdVw1TbuZm-LLaHGLoLi4mqf2_kPHDlyNhs6HW8zLbdvvxFkZ6IIIJPlS7yn8qmTIvvr9PWvTlzVGhQ-omW4Q/s414/md31547152347.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCKj19YbuY3sOy2uPjacx15uLB55RxdFp4fEcmvvxXSnCAirNxyPzaEHIMt6ZZG1cuqzrkSUcCiBEmp5CnuruMdh-kWEiuYGJ2LOCN4MdVw1TbuZm-LLaHGLoLi4mqf2_kPHDlyNhs6HW8zLbdvvxFkZ6IIIJPlS7yn8qmTIvvr9PWvTlzVGhQ-omW4Q/s320/md31547152347.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Good and kitchy. Image from <a href="https://www.abebooks.com/servlet/BookDetailsPL?bi=31547152347&dest=usa&ref_=ps_ms_370713412&cm_mmc=msn-_-comus_shopp_used_trade-_-naa-_-naa&msclkid=f91d5df925371237530a38143dd7dad3" target="_blank">here.</a></i></p><p>Dan is working at a gig in NYC tonight and I toyed with watching an Oscar-nom movie I've missed, such as "American Fiction" or "Poor Things." But instead, I dove into a classic I've heard about but never seen: "Bye Bye Birdie" from 1963, all sixties pop color and dancing and high school. Ann-Margret, Janet Leigh, Dick Van Dyke, Ed Sullivan and Paul Lynde star. I rented it on Amazon for under $4.</p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wikipedia says: <i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The story was inspired by </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elvis_Presley" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Elvis Presley">Elvis Presley</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elvis_Presley%27s_Army_career" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Elvis Presley's Army career">being drafted</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> into the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Army" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="United States Army">United States Army</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> in 1957. </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesse_Pearson_(actor)" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Jesse Pearson (actor)">Jesse Pearson</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> plays the role of teen idol Conrad Birdie, whose character name is a </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Word_play" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Word play">word play</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> on country singer </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conway_Twitty" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Conway Twitty">Conway Twitty</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">, who was, at that time, a teen idol pop artist. </span></i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Birdie is being drafted and appears on "Ed Sullivan" before he goes, </span></i></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">so Bye Bye Birdie. </span></i></span><i style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Many swooning girls and grown women under his spell throughout the film.</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">In this 2024, post-pandemic teen world laced with vapes, </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">weed, physical girl fights, vicious social media gossip </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">and </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">blackmail </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">photos that can kill</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">, I'm all in </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">on a quiet, rainy Saturday night for </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">over-the-top lore from 1963. Also, </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">I see still innocent, timeless teen charms, </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">like giggling,</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">talking on the phone, asking </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">which </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">foundation </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">color is right, </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">hearing "Should I wear my hair like this?" on a </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">video call upstairs, liking horse riding and new sneakers, having </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">teachers </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">and adults who </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">see </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">you and believe in you, even if you don't,</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">and wearing a boy's initial on a chain, while he wears a bracelet </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">you tied on his wrist. Birthday candles and friends, ice cream </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">wishes.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">Lip gloss. And music you love, even if your parents don't</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;">Time to go watch the movie. Good night.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;"><i><b>Update 11:45 p.m.:</b> I love old zany movies, but this was </i></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-wrap: nowrap;"><i>too zany. </i></span></span><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">Out of the park.</i><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">"Charming" and "joyous" are the descriptions on Amazon. But it is</i><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">a "musical romantic comedy film," so--madcap dancing, etc. </i><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">Maureen</i><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">Stapleton as Dick Van Dyke's mother is...entertaining. She wears the</i><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">same voluminous fur coat and sturdy black shoes in every scene.</i></p><p><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;"><b style="font-style: italic;">Update morning after 11:23 a.m.: </b><i>Car broke down on Dan's drive </i></span><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">from NYC last night but he is fine (car is not). So I watched last 5 min </span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">this morning. The climax (Birdie on "Ed Sullivan") </span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">was redeeming but otherwise, it was too much dancing and silliness.</span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">Ann-Margret is so beautiful. I didn't K she was Swedish </span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">(Swedes</span></i></p><p><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">are beautiful, like my friend Kim and her fam) </span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">or recall her Elvis fling. </span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">Also love 60s style: Ponytails, sneakers, shift tops, sherbet colors,</span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">wide belts cinching the waist, full skirts, low pumps, stockings. </span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">And "getting pinned." Wow, patriarchy, men branding women.</span></i><i><span style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;">It was a fraternity pin, but it's still a diamond ring. </span></i></p><p><br /></p><p><i style="color: #202122; font-family: inherit; text-wrap: nowrap;"><br /></i></p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-82801352093833928402024-03-09T00:18:00.000-05:002024-03-09T00:18:00.066-05:00Must Go to Bed<p>I procrastinated so long that I had to write an article for a couple of hours this Friday night. </p><p>Dan was in the city to listen to jazz with his sophisticated friend and the best man at our wedding, Dan F. I love that they met in Teaneck, New Jersey when Dan F. was 3 and my Dan was 4. The former had just moved into the suburban neighborhood and wandered off and gotten lost. My Dan helped him find his way home.</p><p>To soften the blow of working Friday night, I walked around the block once first under the night sky. Ran into Beth, a nice neighbor/friend out walking her richly dark dog and we walked together and caught up. I lit one of the pretty pink taper candles Dan brought back for me from The Belfast Co-op in Maine and I played podcasts and music on Spotify on my laptop. That way, I wasn't working alone.</p><p>Good night.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-4387723881635322502024-03-07T18:07:00.026-05:002024-03-17T11:14:48.384-04:00Graces<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgX9F7bVQZVYno0VVw6G321b1iI1tPWkoWA5Az3ojVngUV6BFlvQv0RaAI_UNsPkkEWdlusE-4MiRlCMLG4FxWpQeBLSLEJwkC4pTSGe4GNcKxGPjG_g-640XOGx9Osf3-9aca4NNouzSLqVbX6ACbv25CbMzg6L8PfA26sXxDqzrzdvl0oTE4Ct6Fb8/s240/th-9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="240" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGgX9F7bVQZVYno0VVw6G321b1iI1tPWkoWA5Az3ojVngUV6BFlvQv0RaAI_UNsPkkEWdlusE-4MiRlCMLG4FxWpQeBLSLEJwkC4pTSGe4GNcKxGPjG_g-640XOGx9Osf3-9aca4NNouzSLqVbX6ACbv25CbMzg6L8PfA26sXxDqzrzdvl0oTE4Ct6Fb8/s1600/th-9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I still believe in the power of a "Hail Mary" prayer, though did not say one today. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It begins with </i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"<span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: left;">Hail Mary, full of grace." </span></i></span><i>Do you pray? </i><i>Image from <a href="https://wallpapercave.com/wallpapers-of-mother-mary" target="_blank">here.</a></i></div><p></p><p>Grateful after school on this overcast March Thursday that:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I talked calmly and openly to two teenagers, almost 17 and already 18, in my living room. (And BTW, I'm changing Punchy's boyfriend's blog name from GREAT SMILE DEEP THINKER, which is too long, to YOUNG ROMEO, shorter and more fitting.)</li><li>I conveyed my observations and concerns about something involving Punchy that is possibly red-flag dangerous, but that both would be privy to, without my lip quivering, tears brimming in the back of my eyes or my voice wavering. In the past, I was less confident, would quake and shake when I addressed important issues of my heart and mind. My eyes still sprout tears when I make a toast to someone I love, because they mean so much to me, watch a graduation march or a funeral procession or walk back from Communion at a funeral Mass and pass the family in the front row of the church. When I asked for a raise at a magazine once, I fumbled, my heart raced, I said a prayer to my dead but dear grandmother Rosie--something along the lines of<i> I want to make you proud, look at my job, and you came on a boat from Italy with little education-</i>-and knocked over the wastebasket on my way into my editor's paneled office.</li><li>My heart didn't jump erratically due to sugar substances consumed in a frenzy of fear and anxiety. Of powerlessness. I didn't raise my voice, accuse or curse. For today, I did not need cookies, a brownie, donut, cake, candy, frosting or other sweets, the softer, the better--or salty, greasy Fritos--to fortify and arm myself against discomfort and worry. Or to soothe myself after the confrontation, which was much more this time like a rational discussion. A chance for all three of us to be seen and heard. To not hide. Although, I must say, teens can persist in their hiding. I am grateful for the exchange.</li><li>I did not delay or procrastinate. I was proactive.</li><li>I heard an observation from Figgy, her calm perspective when she returned from work on the campus. (The front door of our Dutch Colonial opens right into the living room.)</li><li>I had prepared (pre being the key part) oatmeal and turkey chili and was able to grab a healthy, filling breakfast and lunch.</li><li>I have a nice tall glass of ice water and am about to walk around the block. Two virtual appointments with Punch support team members today, plus this living room talk, required time, effort and energy. Water and walk should help replenish.</li></ul><div>Have a good evening.</div><div><br /></div><div>9:41 p.m. update: I once again did not walk, around the block or anywhere else. Tomorrow, tomorrow. But Dan and I went out for sushi, which was nice, and now we are watching The State of the Union on CNN.</div><p></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-52031656401458523102024-03-06T10:51:00.012-05:002024-03-10T13:05:44.723-04:00This Mother Wants Bubble Wrap<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdviJQppD07cYraNewDqFGNYCjZxaxMw5RFnaKmhbZ3_JExNuaQ5NDaAaA8BRCuhURuP0LIhet2nI0GDZdIqioq6gQAkax92IGvQVvk6IquyDbPb0U-bmQSzQpHVK0ugVMfDGb9mS8aHHVhsFoeRxNdfkkpagGze1lCFUQ7lqQuoVI7gn8sFvHd7PNaRw/s270/th-8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="270" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdviJQppD07cYraNewDqFGNYCjZxaxMw5RFnaKmhbZ3_JExNuaQ5NDaAaA8BRCuhURuP0LIhet2nI0GDZdIqioq6gQAkax92IGvQVvk6IquyDbPb0U-bmQSzQpHVK0ugVMfDGb9mS8aHHVhsFoeRxNdfkkpagGze1lCFUQ7lqQuoVI7gn8sFvHd7PNaRw/s1600/th-8.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>DBT (dialectical behavior therapy*) "wise mind" model from <a href="https://cbtprofessionals.com.au/services/dbt-program/" target="_blank">THIS SOURCE.</a></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></i>I want some cushioned wrap, maybe pink, to protect our teen girl, so she will not break when dropped or squeezed between hard places or bouncing on a horse on a rutted path. So she won't lose her way and enter an unsafe place, never to reverse her road again.<div><br /></div><div><i>We can't wrap them in bubble wrap,</i> our first DBT therapist said when I worried. She told me that in several conversations.<br /><p></p><p>I've had fears and scares with our older daughter, Figgy, and met them with determined efforts to fix and cure mental health issues. As if. We parents can maybe help hold the reins when kids are young (after all, we have traveled unpaved roads ourselves), but we cannot clear away the bumps and rocks on the trail. We might help burnish the saddle for safer, more comfortable rides and hope the road rises with our girls and their hopes and dreams as they trot out of our sight. I held onto my cowboy hat as Fig's path circled dangerous dramas, veering toward and away from them. She is doing quite well now, thanks to grace, luck, fate, timing, a keen brain, artistic eye, genetics, loving family, true friends, professional mentors and <i>hard work</i>. And gradually, she/we have learned to face down bandits on life's trail rather than retreat.</p><p>So this is not my first rodeo, as they say, on this journey with Punch, who will turn 17 this Monday. </p><p>And yet I am still surprised when I come upon a teen behavior that scares me. Many of her peers (I can't say "friends," because most truly are not) bring on and bring out the worst inclinations, unloved girls who are doing very unsafe things involving, for example, social media photography, running away from home, disrespect for themselves and adults and yes, even behavior that brings in the police at tender young ages. </p><p>But I know now how to apply DBT "accepts" (a noun), to use my wise mind and not gallop with abandon in my emotional one. DBT tenets do help and so do distress tolerance skills, a nurturing school environment, trained therapists for both mother and child, Dan being present and involved, extended family and friends, perspective and smart doctors. I am grateful for all of those supports this morning. And also for boyfriend GREAT SMILE DEEP THINKER, who shares a lot of wise insights with Punch. But I remind myself that he has flaws, too, like the rest of the world. Wise mind. Acceptance.</p><p>Hope you have a good day.</p><p><span style="background-color: #fcff01; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">*Defined on the internet as "evidence-based psychotherapy designed to help people with emotional dysregulation."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">EVENING NEWS, 7:06 p.m. I want the bubble wrap even more based on this afternoon's events. But I took a warm bath, made a healthy salmon/sauteed mushrooms/polenta family dinner (that the teen might not touch, but vegan Fig will eat the last two) and am going to 7:30 restorative yoga class now. Booked it last week. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-27394440345286993262024-03-05T09:57:00.002-05:002024-03-05T10:04:56.503-05:00Blogging Daily Is Addictive But Hard<p>I went to sleep after midnight. I usually go much earlier on weeknights. I did too much, which is better than doing too little, but my self-care then suffers. I didn't brush my teeth or floss. I was too tired. I had meant to change our sheets all day but hadn't.</p><p>My <i><a href="http://brainandlife.org" target="_blank">Brain & Life</a> </i>revise was due back to my eager and punctual editor. That involved reconnecting with two of my sources in California to flesh out anecdotes. The three-hour difference, in my favor this time, gave me a cushion. The workday in CA would go on longer than mine.</p><p>Since our car got a flat and the temperature gauge climbed dramatically high again, I had to Uber with Punch to her weekly therapy appointment in Paramus. We were 9 minutes late for the 5:30 appointment, with traffic. Thank goodness for Uber. It was a money stressor, but I was determined Punchy would do in-person, generally better for her than telehealth, the backup. And we just did telehealth last Monday due to logistics.</p><p>The Uber there was $34.08 plus $5.11 tip. But that was a work bonus, because instead of driving speedy Route 17 North at rush hour, Carlos calmly held the wheel. I brought my interview notepad to review conversations and quotes in the backseat. And I checked emails on my phone. In the waiting room, while Bobby Flay oversaw a bearded chef's cornbread and fried chicken on the TV, I caught a return call from California and got exactly the info I needed, to jot in my pad and weave into the article. I was grateful. The stars aligned.</p><p>To carry us home, the car cost $35.62 plus $6 tip, but we got to meet a man (our driver) from the country of Georgia, near Turkey, and laugh over American coffee being like "black water." Davit was used to the short, strong cups of his homeland, several times a day. I like that Punch and I got a mini geography and culture lesson as the wheels turned. It matters, and it bonds us, too.</p><p>But the point is, since I hadn't blogged yet for Monday, I wrote and posted last night by 11 p.m. I hadn't made dinner or touched base with Sis. Dan had eaten a veg burger and I had to send the revised article back. Also, under too much on plate, I really wanted to watch "Witness" again after the Amish visit Sunday. I need to manage time better. I loved the movie and Figgy made me the most delicious bowl, with kale, seared tofu, pepitas and homemade dressing. Stroke of luck, being in the right place at the right time. I didn't have to pan-fry the fresh salmon, a daunting task at night. But I have to today, or it will grow older and we will lose money. Same for the big pot of chili. The giant red pepper is aging and I have to use the ground turkey in the non-vegetarian batch.</p><p>So I blogged this morning instead. I hope you enjoy your day. And I will brush and floss this morning.</p><p>P.S. My personal reader (Dan) sent me this <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/04/fashion/juli-lynne-charlot-dead.html" target="_blank">obituary of the poodle skirt creator.</a> What a beautifully crafted story, every word so perfect, and what an enchanting invention. Personally, I want a poodle skirt.</p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-44605357339670297902024-03-04T23:00:00.008-05:002024-03-06T11:16:31.071-05:00Memory Lane with Marilynn <p>Seeing those quilts in Amish Country yesterday brought back memories of my 10 years working at <i>Good Housekeeping</i> Magazine, on the fifth floor of the venerable Hearst Building. </p><p>My friend Marilynn worked one floor up, and we became fast friends, along with a couple of other peers. Marilynn was number 2 in the Needlework & Crafts Department (yes, we had one of those).</p><p>She worked for refined Cecilia and the two produced pages for GH that featured sewing projects and patterns, too. I wrote at least one of their quilt stories, and Marilynn told me about the pretty wedding ring quilt pattern. The pair even went on a GH cruise, and I guess did events a-sea involving their skills. I bet the passengers loved it. The Food Department guru, Mildred, was also on board. :)</p><p>So many firsts with Marilynn....she and Margaret V. (tall, Geena Davis lookalike, with dimples) from the Beauty Department took me under their wings to have high tea at the Plaza one day after work!!! So elegant and not as pricey as it is now. Strawberries and cream, Devonshire cream for the buttery scones. </p><p>Marilynn donated platelets at the blood donor center, and inspired me to do that eventually, too.</p><p>She was the first person I knew who had<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156;">Hermès </span>scarves, whi</span>ch she wore to the office over a dress or top and skirt. I don't think she would mind me saying that they were passed down to her from her cousin, Cindy (sp), who had a successful career and, I guess, many of the iconic scarves from Paris.</p><p>In at least one personal emergency, probably after first calling Moey in New Jersey on speed dial, I punched my friend's four digits on my desk phone and she came down from the sixth floor to meet me in the stairwell for a private consult.</p><p>She liked to bake and talk about baking like I did/do. She gave me a recipe for an impossibly good, classic pecan pie, which she brought warm to our apartment. I still remember the delicious crust and rich filling. I shared a recipe she liked for a coconut sheet cake. You poke holes in the top when it's baked and pour in cream of coconut, then frost and cover with shredded coconut.</p><p>As you can tell, youth was a time of growth, often carefree and fun. Then there is my dear friend Kim from our first jobs at <i>Woman's Day</i>, but that's a story for another time. It was Kim who inspired me to blog in the first place, 14 years ago, because she was blogging. Tonight, I still haven't eaten my dinner.</p><p>Good night.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-22436954459855555382024-03-03T20:45:00.030-05:002024-03-06T21:57:14.905-05:00Amish Country, Another World<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5DHJZPwJ-SOTtQe3cb7MOC5UKh06ahZ7e5yyQLDLo_pZjdqJIzMmi8COc-3HdTKz0mdhWfz149GfBFig0uETWRGwk5hXPwnOP2rASx1qB1vqUsZ7GJLtWp8dwJULl_TpPHyI_8LamwMHyX0P9Z8C9JZG0H3pHdW4XmcizDQUmlGx27mSS7suvaRZPsU/s180/th-7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="135" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5DHJZPwJ-SOTtQe3cb7MOC5UKh06ahZ7e5yyQLDLo_pZjdqJIzMmi8COc-3HdTKz0mdhWfz149GfBFig0uETWRGwk5hXPwnOP2rASx1qB1vqUsZ7GJLtWp8dwJULl_TpPHyI_8LamwMHyX0P9Z8C9JZG0H3pHdW4XmcizDQUmlGx27mSS7suvaRZPsU/s1600/th-7.jpg" width="135" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I bought <a href="https://www.abebooks.com/servlet/BookDetailsPL?bi=31258300608&dest=usa&ref_=ps_ms_370713412&cm_mmc=msn-_-comus_shopp_used_trade-_-naa-_-naa&msclkid=5690b75564ca1488f060d2b07916a6cf" target="_blank">this book</a> (look at the cover photo!) at </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://www.quiltshopatmillers.com/" target="_blank">The Quilt Shop at Miller's</a>, which my friends and I visited today. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>It is stocked with quilts big and small</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>hand-stitched by a total of about 30 women in the local Amish community.</i></div><p style="text-align: left;">We drove around Lancaster County towns* with names like Bird-in-Hand, New Holland and Intercourse. (I got Dan a gray T-shirt with that last name on it--a popular souvenir, based on the number in stock. I knew he would laugh, and wear it.) </p><p style="text-align: left;">We saw families in horse-drawn black buggies heading to and from Sunday services. Somber and unadorned but for the prance of the workhorses, tails swishing, and the smile of a young blonde boy in one who helped hold the reins. </p><p style="text-align: left;">My friend, a close observer of everything from baby turtles on Cape Cod to tiny birds skittering on the ocean, pointed out a meeting house. Many buggies were lined up outside, the handsome, responsible horses waiting like protective parents. Boys in black garb joshing energetically outside. Down the road, more boys near a barn, jumping on a mountain of spare tires. Drive a little more, three boys playing baseball, one lifting a leather mitt for a catch. </p><p style="text-align: left;">A young woman (late teen?) on a bicycle. Women in head covers, dresses, sensible shoes. Absence of Clairol hair color. Coarse, steely gray at the temples can age a woman quickly and make the husband in black walking next to her look many years her junior. But more likely that was a mother and son, not husband and wife, walking home from Sunday services.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I did not spy any groups of girls playing or jumping, letting out pent-up energy, bouncing.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Many of the shops were closed on Sunday. But we peeked on a store porch and saw things we loved. A metal bucket painted sky-blue. Old shutters. Enchanting birdhouses with copper roofing. A stone bird statue to stand in a garden.</p><p style="text-align: left;">We found a coffee shop (a chain) that was open for lunch and many Amish/maybe Mennonite teens and families were there. A boy with blonde bowl haircut, he and his cohorts drinking bottles of chocolate milk in farm country, not Starbucks-style iced coffee drinks. Teen girls with white head covers and long dresses, chatting with peers, maybe checking their cell phones, just like teens in Montclair madness. Two parents and a child holding hands and bowing their heads to pray before eating their grilled sandwiches.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I saw a lot of beauty and peace in their lifestyle, a lot of thanking God for your blessings. I sensed grace, friendliness and a certain brand of positivity, independence. That's cool, and soothing. But of course, the restricted gender roles, the exhausting physical work, the narrow views and no Netflix or NY Times word games. No pretty or shapely fashions, sweetheart necklines or cute tights, right? No-nonsense, modest shoes. Simple bonnets. No salon blowouts or makeup, but if you're lucky, natural rosebuds in your cheeks from eating right, drinking milk and living a fit lifestyle. Woven baskets and net shopping totes (we overlap on that last one). No women as scientists or writers--no men either? IDK how the beat goes on when the modern world as we know it has changed so much. It seems like a secret cult and I'm sorry if that is insulting.</p><p style="text-align: left;">At the shops by <a href="https://www.millerssmorgasbord.com/" target="_blank">Miller's Smorgasboard (since 1929)</a>, we saw pickled veggies and jars of jam, sweet shoofly pies and big blocks of Amish farm butter. Raisin bread, potato rolls, whoopie pies and giant peanut butter cookies. The old-fashioned foods live on. At the quilt shop there, we had to don white cotton gloves if we wanted to touch the quilts, and turn them in when we left. I bought a cheerful quilted baby book about farm animals for a special baby girl (and TBH, just as much for her young mommy), a gift for Sis, a quilted potholder with a bird in the design for Figgy's new apartment, a blue and green Christmas potholder for our kitchen and something I could not resist--a small red and green themed "mug mat" in pretty holiday fabric. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I have long loved the images of candy canes and Christmas trees. Ever since grade school, they have been my favorite things to draw/doodle when I should be concentrating on something else. Candy canes, Christmas trees, packages with big bows and what Figgy calls "the lady" that I have drawn since sixth grade art class at Saint Mary's. </p><p style="text-align: left;">I also drew her with young Fig on Nantucket or Martha's Vineyard when we were waiting for a restaurant order with Dan. <i>Draw the lady,</i> she would say. My lady has a V-neck top, knee-length skirt, belt with stylish round buckle, necklace, heels, wide eyes with lashes and fishnet stockings (for fashion and because I like to fill blank spaces with orderly patterns, like the stripes on a candy cane or a ball-shaped ornament on the tip of each tree bough). I started drawing her when I wore the same school uniform every day for eight years: navy plaid pleated skirt, white shirt, navy vest, navy knee socks--and navy snap neck tie, I think? (How old am I that I waver on this memory?) I know Sis has the neck tie on in a school photo, but she is seven years older.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I want to watch the 1985 movie "Witness" again, starring Kelly McGinnis (as an Amish woman) and Harrison Ford.</p><p style="text-align: left;">We are back home now. Monday morning coming up next. It was good to catch up with my girlfriends, including five+ hours of car time.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Good night.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">*Per nytimes.com: <span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;">There were about 341,900 Amish people living in 31 states and four Canadian provinces as of June 2019, according to statistics compiled by the</span><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;"> </span><a class="css-yywogo" href="http://www.etown.edu/centers/young-center/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="border: 0px; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: var(--color-signal-editorial,#326891); text-decoration-style: solid; text-decoration-thickness: 1px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="">Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies</a><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;">at</span><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;"> </span><a class="css-yywogo" href="http://www.etown.edu/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="border: 0px; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: var(--color-signal-editorial,#326891); text-decoration-style: solid; text-decoration-thickness: 1px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="">Elizabethtown College</a><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;">in Elizabethtown, Pa. </span><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;">About 63 percent live in Ohio, Pennsylvania and Indiana, the center said. Lancaster County, Pa., has the largest Amish population in the United States, with about 39,255 people,</span><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;"> </span><a class="css-yywogo" href="http://groups.etown.edu/amishstudies/statistics/twelve-largest-settlements-2019/" rel="noopener noreferrer" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: var(--color-signal-editorial,#326891); text-decoration-style: solid; text-decoration-thickness: 1px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="">it said</a><span color="var(--color-content-secondary,#363636)" style="background-color: white;">.....In 2019, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #363636;">three Amish children died in Michigan after a car plowed into the back of their horse-drawn buggy, underscoring </span><a class="css-yywogo" href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/12/nyregion/quaint-buggies-with-a-deadly-side.html" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: var(--color-signal-editorial,#326891); text-decoration-style: solid; text-decoration-thickness: 1px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;" title="">an all-too-common danger</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #363636;"> faced by the Amish, who reject automobiles and other modern technology.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-5939987736167235252024-03-03T00:04:00.012-05:002024-03-03T19:41:32.811-05:00Good Night from Pennsylvania Amish Country<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhSc0LGJaSKAjaV_k0DrgLRuxGEvV-aUWxqfMFAQ8QFCKpYsgAutgHwja4wcCII9j3tAmvHvxW08CDj6PMvHbN3jFYb2xweJ5ezwn1KgsrNq4tgp1JXVlBhpRpVHyaAhvJuF5QX7c7zBzpVcHGwvflfIaija7qhKl-p543sfVjZzXJRTbELtHHYaI9yM/s271/th-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="271" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhSc0LGJaSKAjaV_k0DrgLRuxGEvV-aUWxqfMFAQ8QFCKpYsgAutgHwja4wcCII9j3tAmvHvxW08CDj6PMvHbN3jFYb2xweJ5ezwn1KgsrNq4tgp1JXVlBhpRpVHyaAhvJuF5QX7c7zBzpVcHGwvflfIaija7qhKl-p543sfVjZzXJRTbELtHHYaI9yM/s1600/th-4.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><div class="tit-wrap" id="yui_3_5_1_1_1709442418867_722" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); color: #666666; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding: 0px;"><span class="title" style="color: #3f3f3f; float: left; height: 21px; overflow: hidden; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; text-wrap: nowrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; margin-right: 10px; text-wrap: wrap;"><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span><i>Ohio Amish Country</i></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small; margin-right: 10px; text-wrap: wrap;">Photograph by Mary Timman <a href="https://images.fineartamerica.com/images/artworkimages/mediumlarge/1/ohio-amish-country-mary-timman.jpg" target="_blank">fineartamerica.com</a></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"><i> </i> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small; text-wrap: wrap;"> </span></span></div><div class="imginfo" id="yui_3_5_1_1_1709442418867_727" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.9); color: #666666; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><p class="dim" style="color: #949fa6; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 5px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></p></div><p>Mini girls' trip, two of us leaving Montclair 4:45 p.m. and arriving by 8 p.m. this Saturday night in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where our third formerly Montclair girlfriend just located to a great apartment. The three of us had an Indian dinner in the city and toured the great new apartment with the great (newly purchased) midcentury modern sofa and the cute cat and the organized cookbook shelf.</p><p>First friend found this Airbnb in Amish Country, a 30-minute drive from Lancaster proper, an old city that looks cool architecturally, historically, culturally and in kindness (it has a big mission to help the homeless and underprivileged, and our friend has already volunteered there). We two are sharing this very affordable and very well-appointed place for one night. Tomorrow the three of us meet up again at 10 a.m. and explore the pretty patchwork of Amish farms, horse and buggy wagons, a quilt shop, etc. Traveling back in time.</p><p>We plan to start the 2-hour drive back by 3:30 or 4 p.m. I hope to report back tomorrow with interesting findings.</p><p>Good night from a place where electricity is often shunned (but not in this Airbnb).</p><p><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Link to photo above <a href="https://fineartamerica.com/featured/ohio-amish-country-mary-timman.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-53791126243991105382024-03-01T21:31:00.016-05:002024-03-04T11:34:18.035-05:00Our Town<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCR9baoOqQiXcdOJgLoepZQgIQrPC4OgcIyoDmk97ZgmS92IaIQdTWScParAnNbTv51Nlm-t_uq5hfVn0YjjgmqGrmijaf93nRySWp4__oBvMsjUkqRc9C3UJ67luX_YEYFue46m_ALNGjzRZnx7QhZCctFh9ugReo31bisnXKYjvM_fInVQAFsoIIXA/s573/pf-ce71640e-ff15-4833-b67c-8a29c36ff9d1--potpie1430x573.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="430" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCR9baoOqQiXcdOJgLoepZQgIQrPC4OgcIyoDmk97ZgmS92IaIQdTWScParAnNbTv51Nlm-t_uq5hfVn0YjjgmqGrmijaf93nRySWp4__oBvMsjUkqRc9C3UJ67luX_YEYFue46m_ALNGjzRZnx7QhZCctFh9ugReo31bisnXKYjvM_fInVQAFsoIIXA/s320/pf-ce71640e-ff15-4833-b67c-8a29c36ff9d1--potpie1430x573.webp" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>I love perusing grocery stores. Chicken potpie photo from Griggstown Farm website. </i><i>Actual potpie in my freezer.</i></p><p>Today I pushed through and walked into town at 4:45 p.m. It took about 25 minutes. I realized it's not just the can-do journey I miss, or the lacing up the sneakers, wrapping my mother's aquamarine mohair scarf around my neck and heading to a destination with a purpose (today was grocery shopping). </p><p>It's also the familiarity of passing all those houses along Valley Road, the ones I have passed for 30 years. Lydia's. Mary's. Maiko's. The house where the woman worked hard planting flowers, like tiger lilies, in the heat and then her family moved. The ranch that took so long to sell. The idyllic white farmhouse with a porch and front garden. The house with the iron entrance gate, and the one with the hydrangea tree (not bush) that is so pretty in bloom. The small house that always has a shiny, colorful sports car in the driveway, turquoise or yellow. I figure the homeowner must be a car salesman, who can rotate cars from the inventory. I figure him to be a bachelor, though I've never seen him.</p><p>And it's a jolt of energy to be downtown in a cosmopolitan place that is not my living room, home office or immediate neighborhood. The commuter train nosing out of the Bellevue Avenue station. The people walking from the platform to their homes. The woman in a cute knit hat with fluffy pompom. The railway connection to my beloved New York City. And yet, yet, commuter time in our town is so much lighter since the pandemic, with hybrid/work-at-home schedules. I no longer see a rush or crush. It's different, and quiet.</p><p>I had two very heavy bags of groceries, so I couldn't walk back from Kings in the dark. Figgy picked me up and drove me home. But I laid in lots of nourishing family groceries, including fresh blueberries, mangos, organic milk, a big bag of Bell & Evans frozen chicken patties, Ezekiel cereal, Dave's Killer Bread, a large <a href="https://griggstownfarm.com/pages/the-store" target="_blank">Griggstown Farm</a> (Princeton, NJ) frozen chicken potpie to stash in the freezer, organic apples, fresh mushrooms, oatmeal, fresh salmon from Norway, vegan coffee creamer, a papaya and more. Groceries <i>cost a lot,</i> even with the many digital coupons I used. I better step away from Kings. It's just that I can walk there, and that's good. And healthy groceries are an investment in our collective well-being.</p><p>Good night.</p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-38321728597448871812024-02-28T10:25:00.014-05:002024-03-01T11:18:37.860-05:00Mrs. List<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bBVJDZcL0srE7zQEDi2w6nju4HiCtXCOLXEV4D6CtSLsJGc9-P3snAlmXUjjmD_bPPNPzg0Pry7N6D-5Oqq08WmhTJ3yVx_fj2aqwK-xDMAyPo7PyX3t4Y7v57oNpInAmNdX2dPFg8ZNrNmdbsOO8MGLw1O-xi73NHxzDhl8yb3KeOADUSyzlC7zU6w/s180/th-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="180" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bBVJDZcL0srE7zQEDi2w6nju4HiCtXCOLXEV4D6CtSLsJGc9-P3snAlmXUjjmD_bPPNPzg0Pry7N6D-5Oqq08WmhTJ3yVx_fj2aqwK-xDMAyPo7PyX3t4Y7v57oNpInAmNdX2dPFg8ZNrNmdbsOO8MGLw1O-xi73NHxzDhl8yb3KeOADUSyzlC7zU6w/s1600/th-3.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>I hope I have time to make the Bliss Balls using Ground Up nut butter from Portland. I got finely chopped walnuts and pecans for the recipe at Stop & Shop last night. </i></p><p>Years ago, I nicknamed Dan "Mr. List" because he would often jot down daily plans (for life and work) in the morning, putting pen to paper. He still does.</p><p>For today, I would like to be Mrs. List, not my strong suit lately. But today Dan is driving back from almost a week in Maine. His mother, Mary, 94, has been failing. When I'm away, he tries to make it his business to have the house looking tidy when I return. Sometimes that means "a lick and promise," a phrase my mother used for doing something quickly but not thoroughly. As in, Dan might sling a sinkful of dishes into the dishwasher but since they sat too long, they emerge still dirty.</p><p>Here is my list for today, starting at 9:40 a.m. this foggy Wednesday morning. Well, it is already 9:58 a.m.. I just watched an 11 min 24 sec video of President Biden on the Seth Meyers show. It was good. But that kind of thing, the time stealing, can happen 24/7 if you let it when based at home.</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Write and publish this blog post.</li><li>Text N, angel friend.</li><li>Eat healthy breakfast. Oatmeal with "clean" nut butter and baked apple, milk and a little light cream. </li><li>Take meds.</li><li>Write Florida postcard to Sis and put in mail basket for pickup.</li><li>NY Times word games on laptop. Another time eater, but I love them.</li><li>Do dishes.</li><li>Shower/shampoo.</li><li>Put on lemon print dress, pantyhose, makeup and earrings. Power dressing at home vs. sleepwear all day.</li><li>Walk around the block once.</li><li>Fold loads of clean wash.</li><li>Make bed. (Can't yet, because clean wash piled on it.)</li><li>Put in one load of wash.</li><li>Write up <i>aspire</i> website Q & A with Inca, the young architect of a beautiful dwelling in Mexico City.</li><li>Contemplate essay writing; where to try and sell one. </li><li>Have healthy lunch. Rotisserie chicken, yam, 2 t butter, S & P, roasted red peppers with a little of Figgy's delicious cilantro/tahini dressing. (Figgy moving into a NJ apt with her friend at the end of March. Will miss many good things about her, will not miss the rough things.)</li><li>Make cocoa Bliss Balls (energy balls) from the new <a href="https://grounduppdx.com/collections/products/products/nut-butter-cookbook" target="_blank"><i>Nut Butter </i>cookbook </a>I love. The Ground Up company in Portland, Oregon provides job training for women overcoming adversity. They make wonderful nut butters (hazelnut, espresso, snickerdoodle etc) with no added sugar.</li><li>Have Punch help me bring three Christmas bins from Dan's office up to attic?</li><li>Make simple dinner since Dan should be home by about 6 p.m. Hmmm.....prepared mac and cheese, breaded flounder, tartar sauce, steamed broccoli, rolls and butter.</li></ul><div>That's it for now. IDK if I can do it all. Yesterday evening, I Swiffered the bathroom floor and ceiling (yes), cleaned litter box, emptied garbage, put kitchen compost out. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>4:24 p.m. update:</i> Another sluggish day. Did I tell you I almost broke my nose last Thursday when I face-planted on the wood floor, tripping over my open, unpacked Florida suitcase in the living room? Big pain, blood, hot tears and bruising, could barely get up....so I have been healing from that trauma, too. Napping etc. Yesterday I wore sunglasses at supermarket with Figgy (7 p.m.) <i>You look weird, Mom,</i> Figgy said, making me laugh.</div><div><br /></div><div>I should start writing a story or a book, an ongoing project. Sad to say, I ate in a scattered way between breakfast and lunch and became tired, lulled to sleep, and took a long nap. Didn't have the planned lunch. I still haven't showered, but I will, or taken a walk, which I probably won't. Or put on my dress. Or done my writing work. Still cleaning in my sleepwear. Will change! Dan changed ETA to 7 p.m. so that gave me the cushion of extra time. I would like to switch up my daily routine. On my second mug of coffee with oat milk and light cream. Tall ice waters should help energize me; filling one now.</div><div><br /></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-10085042456391403612024-02-26T21:58:00.046-05:002024-02-28T11:18:33.415-05:00Postcard from My Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBGWbwkPp_vcqWz-eBriGnXPqFuNisFfqoCD8szII39JXioIIWSLQid3V8FfdFqPt9i6QagRcHwNkpN2L283jmPaZ6iT4XlucjjmmFo73Ju7dQgDnk3H5bkJpS9E6a8TQtVm_ly4MjurVPSfS4x6O0ntjVlKja_CUPgUvZkWgdd14yLZhezBMcuh4gg8/s1600/thumbnail-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBGWbwkPp_vcqWz-eBriGnXPqFuNisFfqoCD8szII39JXioIIWSLQid3V8FfdFqPt9i6QagRcHwNkpN2L283jmPaZ6iT4XlucjjmmFo73Ju7dQgDnk3H5bkJpS9E6a8TQtVm_ly4MjurVPSfS4x6O0ntjVlKja_CUPgUvZkWgdd14yLZhezBMcuh4gg8/s320/thumbnail-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i>Dan and me last Monday in The Sunshine State. We flew down for five nights to attend the wedding of Florida Orange, our goddaughter. We stayed in Homestead, where the wedding took place. The drive to Miami was about 40 minutes. Photo by Punch.</i><p>I can't believe I haven't blogged since November.</p><p>On the other side of our Florida trip, I wanted to jot a few notes. We returned last Wednesday.</p><p>We packed not just our suitcases, with swimsuits, sunscreen, and wedding clothes, but also our complicated and wrinkly-crinkly personalities, of course. Dan booked on Travelocity and instead of the two lovely, chilled, carefully decorated and kitchen- and laundry-equipped Airbnb homes we splurged on the last two years (the first was steps from the beach), <span style="font-family: inherit;">this </span>was the Travelodge by Wyndham Florida City <span style="background-color: white;">Homestead</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Everglades motel </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">with a free hot breakfast. (Even so, it was about $1,000 total for five nights and every room was full, many with foreign tourists.) We also had to get plane tickets for three of us, etc. and not overspend. (Fig flew JetBlue and has rewards.)</span></p><p>We did relax, even though we shared one room with two queen beds. I tried to prepare myself mentally ahead of time for that togetherness. (Figgy spent three out of five nights with the bride in Boynton Beach.) We were busy a lot. A rental car means everything. We explored Key Largo a little; drove to South Beach, Miami and enjoyed the gorgeous blue water and the beauty of the breeze; attended the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Three of Dan's four brothers and two of my sisters-in-law flew down from Maine, and it was fun catching up among palm trees, also with the parents and brothers of the bride!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNf_er67zlOcVIN51lKCAyM4hl-g0M4VYvmGP-Q0hUla0fBheOucdyAS_uu8U8s3OkJn9aPobTOqZuP50186tX7F6-1xR6rnvajClNJRMHUlKFj8fggX2qw-6gq-RHrB378ZKM2YxwzL_b2z9FEakIyCcgBxSZrERC3h3jJSlbag7XO-jeYeTSHW-N8U/s1024/thumbnail-10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNf_er67zlOcVIN51lKCAyM4hl-g0M4VYvmGP-Q0hUla0fBheOucdyAS_uu8U8s3OkJn9aPobTOqZuP50186tX7F6-1xR6rnvajClNJRMHUlKFj8fggX2qw-6gq-RHrB378ZKM2YxwzL_b2z9FEakIyCcgBxSZrERC3h3jJSlbag7XO-jeYeTSHW-N8U/s320/thumbnail-10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i>Figgy, 28, and Punch, on the cusp of 17, at the wedding. </i></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i>Torrential rain in the botanic garden outside, so Punch put on a sweatshirt.</i></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1RT2HTq-Rn173-Fri__n0Q2yOJCwOIAxDFn1g7TG3_NYSsVnvlqBvSOjkGAefB_9c7G0-ysjKZozGPjARBPHkE5Hs17MxsJ0AH5lpT5YFAepxOBix8nBBE5wXuqnQ-Nly-loX8LLxFJMTQP0yz9Sp7i28KM2MfNFa72lS_Dgr8K1Sob5JLCKL0ehnzlg/s1200/6a5098d6888bea21b9a2a3fe87639750.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1RT2HTq-Rn173-Fri__n0Q2yOJCwOIAxDFn1g7TG3_NYSsVnvlqBvSOjkGAefB_9c7G0-ysjKZozGPjARBPHkE5Hs17MxsJ0AH5lpT5YFAepxOBix8nBBE5wXuqnQ-Nly-loX8LLxFJMTQP0yz9Sp7i28KM2MfNFa72lS_Dgr8K1Sob5JLCKL0ehnzlg/s320/6a5098d6888bea21b9a2a3fe87639750.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>My sister-in-law Martha texted this, saying Figgy's look </div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">reminded her of the Portrait of Madame X painting </div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">by John Singer Sargent, 1884. </div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: left;">I checked out the </span><a href="https://www.robertishere.com/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Robert Is Here</a><span style="text-align: left;"> tropical fruit stand, colorful and fun. It was under "Things to Do" on the couple's Knot website. I got a fresh mango smoothie with Splenda and had them add raw kale. That was healthy but the green hue not nearly as nice as pure sunny mango would have been on a rainy Florida day. I drove 15 minutes to a Sprouts supermarket, which I hadn't been able to find at home. They carry the California brand Sweet Laurel's baking mixes (healthy, no refined sugar, also vegan for Fig). They only had </span><a href="https://sweetlaurel.com/products/vegan-scone-mix-1" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">the scone mix</a><span style="text-align: left;">, but I scooped it up and tucked the pretty pink box in my carry-on.</span></div><p>Punchy did some good things. Florida Orange and Figgy invited her to hang with them and sleep over one night, so she took the train from the Miami Airport to Boynton Beach, responsibly and safely. Dan got her on the train and FLO and Fig met her on the other end. She also went back and forth to the Travelodge pool, sporting her sunglasses and a nice black swimsuit I got her. </p><p>That afternoon in South Beach was pricey, as New York City would be for out-of-towners who don't know the place well. But we had the most enormous slices of pizza I have ever seen, just positively giant. We watched volleyball games with the sea as a backdrop. Driving back to Homestead, Punch and I drifted off into peaceful late afternoon naps after breathing in that beach air. That was a gift.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOGpMzBI5ylQT0Lk1qrVoydVGqNRxhtRYXPVVZvTRDrLNXZzydJoX1UIzPkOVouk0FzG0Jhbq99mHgEsS-npbO-hgpH_VnJww7_zgONhAQnJMSClEflgDfWbCgheU_h2m_RIy6HzQzAAKdTQztq9n3fH7qw-BtDvwVK5ZLfiX-q40l3WgJ5h34NnJ19k/s1520/thumbnail-6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1520" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOGpMzBI5ylQT0Lk1qrVoydVGqNRxhtRYXPVVZvTRDrLNXZzydJoX1UIzPkOVouk0FzG0Jhbq99mHgEsS-npbO-hgpH_VnJww7_zgONhAQnJMSClEflgDfWbCgheU_h2m_RIy6HzQzAAKdTQztq9n3fH7qw-BtDvwVK5ZLfiX-q40l3WgJ5h34NnJ19k/s320/thumbnail-6.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>FLO and Eric tie the knot. Sweet couple. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>They crushed on each other back when; Eric is a friend of FLO's older bro.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_47gpkmxOaVVCjHguJLFRl3ML0PTY8cJp4qT-vuYL9R6YsxadKI6rttv9tU-TN70hv8Lq2YQkFKc7W6B94mBCcw9s-o7iCH8Lzkfi2HjNBQp348RGVlscVvHdsLxc05YWJodk6j5sIvCN6linaQ4w1-jLdtrdIl8b9WNpBifSRaBi11rKW6GZZpftAkU/s769/thumbnail-7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="743" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_47gpkmxOaVVCjHguJLFRl3ML0PTY8cJp4qT-vuYL9R6YsxadKI6rttv9tU-TN70hv8Lq2YQkFKc7W6B94mBCcw9s-o7iCH8Lzkfi2HjNBQp348RGVlscVvHdsLxc05YWJodk6j5sIvCN6linaQ4w1-jLdtrdIl8b9WNpBifSRaBi11rKW6GZZpftAkU/s320/thumbnail-7.jpg" width="309" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Figgy and FLO before.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxO5e-NcGQjEHrv7MD5aUyXUrayCQ5fHXTWKK620b15BBCo6RF7O84nIssQpL49GXYG3cBFxNo5dDdRIeVLEbL6w9t-XzugAyZM3trDE7BbP8mwRq64zEuHDzCb1nwSoB3nxrGTC3_QnFJIk0eS0Ogxp72uC17SmPzzfi5Guc6CUnZAZCWeMhDKnxfyA/s1080/thumbnail-8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqxO5e-NcGQjEHrv7MD5aUyXUrayCQ5fHXTWKK620b15BBCo6RF7O84nIssQpL49GXYG3cBFxNo5dDdRIeVLEbL6w9t-XzugAyZM3trDE7BbP8mwRq64zEuHDzCb1nwSoB3nxrGTC3_QnFJIk0eS0Ogxp72uC17SmPzzfi5Guc6CUnZAZCWeMhDKnxfyA/s320/thumbnail-8.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Figgy and FLO day after wedding.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oR1X6sOnna0Ae42HHzfl8PqCFHoOsOclt8vl3VdURgCA0zETZlENSVhOIjesEckLB4bcMgxkv5mbnET8uHhvGNsPiJ2yp0cRAFelKOu7CxwzUibpOtjBV4fBEcUIEWwqDDxeIo7Vb3_Acg3P3tAPscAnCX7F5sagpQghX4-O2VTRkSffQ-PSijSbtuo/s1080/thumbnail-9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oR1X6sOnna0Ae42HHzfl8PqCFHoOsOclt8vl3VdURgCA0zETZlENSVhOIjesEckLB4bcMgxkv5mbnET8uHhvGNsPiJ2yp0cRAFelKOu7CxwzUibpOtjBV4fBEcUIEWwqDDxeIo7Vb3_Acg3P3tAPscAnCX7F5sagpQghX4-O2VTRkSffQ-PSijSbtuo/s320/thumbnail-9.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Dan and FLO.</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">************************************</p><p>I stopped blogging because I wanted to dig in more to writing for pay, and I have. I wanted to stop spending day after day focused on a teenager's life, fielding calls from the high school, swinging at a curve ball with a ping-pong paddle. My efforts seemed fruitless. I was and am a caring witness but no one is equipped to fully fix things, not the trained staffers at a huge public school, though they tried, and surely not Dan or me. Punchy's out-of-district school placement since last March has helped greatly. I have six hours without phone calls and worries, without requests to come get her. She is in a safer place. We also consider her over-one-year relationship with her supportive boyfriend (blog name Great Smile Deep Thinker) helpful.</p><p>Still, even with the uninterrupted time, it's a bit of a crawl to make meaningful money. Publications like <i>Brain & Life </i>(about living with neurological diagnoses, from Alzheimer's disease to Parkinson's) pay five times as much as my lifestyle writing--which is called content production now, for the website of the golden Seven Sisters* magazine I will always hold close to my heart. But after 100+ years, that magazine has cut back from 12 issues a year to six. It's sad. Advertisers want instant clicks and purchases. They can't wait around for glossy print ads to grab a reader's purse strings. Everything is #rightnow.</p><p>I'm happy to say I've enjoyed all of the assignments. New skills. Anyway, here are three of my most recent articles:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><a href="https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/preview/home-products/laundry-detergents/g375/best-laundry-detergent/" target="_blank">12 Best Laundry Detergents of 2024, According to Cleaning Pros </a><i>Good Housekeeping </i>website</li><li><a href="https://www.brainandlife.org/articles/theater-group-features-neurodiversity-on-stage" target="_blank">Young Romeo & Juliet, Neurodiverse Production</a><i> Brain & Life </i>website and print magazine (subscriptions are free, and bilingual)</li><li><a href="https://aspiremetro.com/sarah-sherman-samuel/" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Behind The Design: 5 Creative Questions With Sarah Sherman Samuel</a> <i>aspire design and home</i> website</li></ul><div>I'm broadening my horizons and it's great to be working closely again with one of my GH colleagues. </div><div><br /></div><div>But a funny thing happened.....just as writing about fashion eventually pumped up my style wanting and spending, even writing about CLEANING PRODUCTS has affected my buying of those. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's always been the case, the whole point of lifestyle writing featuring products is to make people want to get stuff. Turns out this can also work with the writer. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've now purchased <a href="https://www.diptyqueparis.com/en_us/p/leather-and-wood-care-lotion-with-beeswax-250ml.html" target="_blank">Diptyque (pronounced DIP-TEAK) made-in-Paris wood and leather polish</a>; Dreft baby laundry detergent in the pink bottle (I had a $3 coupon and after all, wrote "<span face="Charter, Charter-roboto, Charter-local, Georgia, Times, serif" style="font-size: 19px;">The rest of the family will also like the beloved 'Baby Fresh' scent that Dreft delivers," which I have found to be true when I could finally nab a bottle at my store)</span> and reconnected with <a href="https://www.caldrea.com/product/" target="_blank">Caldrea</a>, a brand I met on a Hudson Valley weekend 10 years back but hadn't encountered since. I also bought Safely detergent in a pretty colored jug at Whole Foods on Madison Avenue one Saturday when I had the car in NYC. </div><div><br /></div><div>These four purchases racked up a lot of spending but I think it's productive spending, as in cleaning our old wood and making the laundry smell lovely if I can. As Moey's mother, Muriel, wisely told me when I was a newlywed, getting a cleaning product that smells good helps you do the chore.</div><p>Good night to you.</p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">*Seven Sisters can refer to a climbing hybrid rose, a cluster of stars or the <span style="background-color: white; color: #101518;">group of women's (or formerly women's) colleges in the eastern U.S. having high academic and social prestige. It includes Barnard, Bryn Mawr, Mount Holyoke, Radcliffe, Smith, Vassar and Wellesley. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #101518;">For the magazine world, I like this Wikipedia definition:</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b style="color: #202122;">The Seven Sisters</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">is a group of magazines that has traditionally been aimed at married women who are</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homemakers" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Homemakers">homemakers</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">with husbands and children, rather than single and working women.</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Kuczynski_1-0" style="color: #202122; line-height: 1; text-wrap: nowrap; unicode-bidi: isolate;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Sisters_(magazines)#cite_note-Kuczynski-1" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;">[1]</a></sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">The name is derived from the Greek myth of the "seven sisters", also known as the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pleiades_(Greek_mythology)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Pleiades (Greek mythology)">Pleiades</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">. A major force in 20th century American publishing, only three of the magazines are still published as physical magazines:</span></span></p><ul style="background-color: white; color: #202122; list-style-image: url("/w/skins/Vector/resources/skins.vector.styles/images/bullet-icon.svg?d4515"); margin: 0.3em 0px 0px 1.6em; padding: 0px;"><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Better_Homes_and_Gardens_(magazine)" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Better Homes and Gardens (magazine)">Better Homes and Gardens</a></i> (1922–)</span></li><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Family_Circle" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Family Circle">Family Circle</a></i> (1932–2019)</span></li><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Good_Housekeeping" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Good Housekeeping">Good Housekeeping</a></i> (1885–)</span></li><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ladies%27_Home_Journal" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Ladies' Home Journal">Ladies' Home Journal</a></i> (1883–2016)</span></li><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McCall%27s" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="McCall's">McCall's</a></i> (1873–2002)</span></li><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Redbook" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Redbook">Redbook</a></i> (1903–2019)</span></li><li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woman%27s_Day" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Woman's Day">Woman's Day</a></i> (1937–)</span></li></ul><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #101518;">Check out </span></span><span style="color: #101518; font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Sisters_(magazines)">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Sisters_(magazines)</a> for more details.</span></span></p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-32991064138002742832023-11-26T08:28:00.022-05:002023-12-03T13:11:18.879-05:00Hand to Heart, Fingers to Keyboard in a Maine Kitchen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3VDQhP5kdZE7-ehB85jcqCXDn9JfLUjS8ah8Q3JMDcht2x8jel-NPeYx9wk80ff2URd23L6tbRCK52XQkoacRBZTO2Ddpn_C0veQ9ywyXxMp9aVolI0N77CJIxvF1SnwRJMqz7RScGMpok3wyAVZPZBmwdZ0PNchAUnWI42JyzeSVrnXq0c2Ovu-pks/s960/405274377_7390883860922066_2167213541832518440_n-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3VDQhP5kdZE7-ehB85jcqCXDn9JfLUjS8ah8Q3JMDcht2x8jel-NPeYx9wk80ff2URd23L6tbRCK52XQkoacRBZTO2Ddpn_C0veQ9ywyXxMp9aVolI0N77CJIxvF1SnwRJMqz7RScGMpok3wyAVZPZBmwdZ0PNchAUnWI42JyzeSVrnXq0c2Ovu-pks/w240-h320/405274377_7390883860922066_2167213541832518440_n-1.jpg" title="The tree lighting in Belfast on Saturday night. Photo from Eric Sanders." width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It's a wonderful life in Belfast. The tree lighting and visit from Santa Saturday at 5 p.m. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>at Post Office Square. Photo by Eric Sanders, a friend of Santa's.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6Z-HFnAYsxXfIDyfa5UrtFQ5uyKbhKhwBXXrlBjrAmijy2sHHI_cDSkFdROtwfjVWGZHC9r-vUMQnQXT16BBthrFW9ZbVCMF09xkkR3607lWcusTvDb06AK9ZmiBLmRtssybIqIn6B4A2R5CcPxdSaYgxTetPSzoB7yAhyo5k7WejJiztKUzig9VHx4/s960/405181451_7390762037600915_4500282473171576860_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6Z-HFnAYsxXfIDyfa5UrtFQ5uyKbhKhwBXXrlBjrAmijy2sHHI_cDSkFdROtwfjVWGZHC9r-vUMQnQXT16BBthrFW9ZbVCMF09xkkR3607lWcusTvDb06AK9ZmiBLmRtssybIqIn6B4A2R5CcPxdSaYgxTetPSzoB7yAhyo5k7WejJiztKUzig9VHx4/s320/405181451_7390762037600915_4500282473171576860_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><i>"Santa is very popular," Eric wrote when he posted this epic photo on Facebook. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Thank you, Eric, for this remarkable visual memory.</i></div><p>My friend Shirley and I try to text each other three gratitudes every morning. As life takes the wheel, and we allow that, we forget to stop and text. Today I will do it again.</p><p>But now, sitting at the kitchen island in the Mill House, a wonderful place built by my talented brother-in-law, I want to dash off a list before we clean up and scoot home, after seeing Dan's mother first.</p><p>Graces</p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="background-color: white;"><span><b><span style="color: #ff00fe;">Figgy. </span></b></span></span>I hugged Fig, encircling her closely in my arms, at the Belfast tree lighting yesterday. This is a rarity lately, that hug. Her belted wool coat against my worn Tory Burch camel sweater. She is so petite compared to my 5'9". Funny how it happens that way. <span style="background-color: white;"><span><b>(</b></span></span>Punchy stayed with Romeo and his family back in NJ and had a big Thanksgiving there.)</li><li><b style="color: #ffa400;">Abraham's Creamery.<span style="background-color: white;"> </span></b><span style="background-color: white;">Wow, the jug of small-batch pumpkin kefir from the Belfast Co-op. That's why I love shopping there, the <a href="https://abrahamsgfc.com/dairy/" target="_blank">farm finds</a>. Ingredients: Fresh goat milk, Maine organic maple syrup, pumpkin, pumpkin pie spice and cultures. It is so good. I see they make one with wild Maine blueberries when in season. Triple yum.</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white;">(I have to speed up now.) <b style="color: #3d85c6;">Bar Harbor. </b><span>The long and rolling road to get there. </span>Want to go back to Window Panes, where I bought a favorite tablecloth decades ago.</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #6aa84f;">Belfast. </b>Old-time charm, lampposts on the lane, strings of Christmas lights. Imagine all the important, loving, heart-warming and -wrenching letters and packages sent and received from that historic P.O. during wartime, peace time, Christmastime.</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Mrs. Claus. </span><span>Mingling at the tree lighting in her w</span>hite knit poncho, long dress, red cap (Diane). Mrs. C. is always a delightful standby, kind and sweet.</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Santa</span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-weight: bold;"> and </span><b style="color: #6aa84f;">Buddy the Elf. </b>Two Hurley brothers arriving on fire engine, possibly M (it's a secret) and my Dan.</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #ffa400;">Thanksgiving. </b>At Martha and Pat's, 24 people for dinner, though all could not fit at the table. (Overflow at kitchen island and in living room.) Ian's tender dinner rolls made from his mother's recipe, Sheila's turkey and gravy, Martha's and Erin's pumpkin pies, whipped cream by Leah, Pat's coffee.</span></li><li><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="color: #2b00fe;">This beautiful view. </b>A pond, trees, birds, farmland. Hard to leave, as usual.</span></li></ol><div>But we must.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-sbdubTUv2jkBpBRkX4brCp3RH9vbuzBvr5hPjuSOficiNE91lDhe8YnETp4UfP33MxRRc2kVGtmKUhEMrZeoiSIiX7zf_ZOW18uAB9w_QeZcey2ZvZYmvPgW7Mi-LxdQzthYUB3p1Fdym1HqkwzBSg1zli1kE0OSmebf6tyFbteuAfJb-K6Ig02zGo/s300/final-logo-01-transparent-1-1-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="300" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl-sbdubTUv2jkBpBRkX4brCp3RH9vbuzBvr5hPjuSOficiNE91lDhe8YnETp4UfP33MxRRc2kVGtmKUhEMrZeoiSIiX7zf_ZOW18uAB9w_QeZcey2ZvZYmvPgW7Mi-LxdQzthYUB3p1Fdym1HqkwzBSg1zli1kE0OSmebf6tyFbteuAfJb-K6Ig02zGo/s1600/final-logo-01-transparent-1-1-1.png" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><p></p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-36510390185859636002023-10-24T22:26:00.025-04:002024-03-04T14:34:02.407-05:00Saturday Night Fashion Dash Down Madison Avenue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAznYblEzvlWyK7M7x1nJxhsi6Bhray2m0BkCOHnvvVyKY4OMX3Jerm_9Wf_euCICFdJQ83JKy3T-FVFxIw9byDqD5GKuqQxupkEXiKlU4qTks3XC56axYUQKn4PXCMl1EST_jpPQKNOisloxCbUNCexsWWmcJbB08hSz5ucuV3QwMFfxgxl4X8ErRbuE/s1600/4566093306001-a-ombrato4_normal.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAznYblEzvlWyK7M7x1nJxhsi6Bhray2m0BkCOHnvvVyKY4OMX3Jerm_9Wf_euCICFdJQ83JKy3T-FVFxIw9byDqD5GKuqQxupkEXiKlU4qTks3XC56axYUQKn4PXCMl1EST_jpPQKNOisloxCbUNCexsWWmcJbB08hSz5ucuV3QwMFfxgxl4X8ErRbuE/s320/4566093306001-a-ombrato4_normal.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span> <span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span>Window shopping afforded a glimpse of </span><span>cuddly blush </span><a href="https://us.maxmara.com/p-4566093306001-ombrato4-honey" target="_blank">mittens at Max Mara</a><span>.</span></span></p><p>On Saturday night, Dan and I drove into NYC to see a short drone show over the treetops near Bethesda Fountain in Central Park--magical waves of birdlike flickers in pretty color patterns. (I hope the real migrating birds were not too disturbed. Birders were worried.) Free, totally free, but for the cost of a Lincoln Tunnel toll and a couple dollars to park by meter on Madison Avenue.</p><p>The park was packed--parents, children (“Hold onto Daddy’s hand, Tyler”), dogs, lovers, college kids, people with foreign accents, girl groups, a man with his motorcycle. It was fun, though I felt claustrophobic.</p><p>We then tried to get into Bemelmans Bar, a legendary spot in The Carlyle Hotel on Madison at 75th Street. What were we thinking? Drinks and bites at the bar. But we found a ticketed jazz show, and beautiful young women lined up to get in. A doorman in a hat. Upper East Side socialites. Without looking, I detected wafts of signature, expensive perfume in the air and heard youthful voices. Looking, I saw high heels; born-with, dewy skin; designer clothing. Dan in blue jeans, me wearing sneakers with my skirt? Um, no. Absolutely no. Sometimes we fit in, sometimes we don’t. Oh well. We are hopeful and daring. Anyway, we can dress up and make a dinner reservation one day.</p><p>We ended up getting drinks at The Mark nearby. And then we walked back to our car on 65th and Madison. I loved the window shopping under the moonlight. The stores were closed, it was near 10 p.m. </p><p>Vera Wang. Max Mara. Christian Louboutin. (I couldn't get Dan to even stop and appreciate a peek at the shoes.) Valentino. Precious children’s clothing shops, with tiny smocked dresses. Grandmothers with deep purses must buy those to ship to L.A. Colors through the looking glasses, colors for adults: blush, embellished navy for evening wear and at V, classic black with white in an alluring take on the little black dress.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrf1RvVs9wGQu1K-6uLmM7p1m2rIw2Ory4P7awiftjO-mUskFsT3_GnkUTTQ_Mdl5VjyVXlbzJD1LRGKu6i2duec9xrGgk5TAPspINrhP7w10cOSnhW-Uj4YM85dOZV2j-OALfyKKSYkttTpO0mVUBAJK5X8bZEeEFkH9y-OstkRjpCaV0Fld5hc1Fy3w/s798/CREPE-COUTURE-SHORT-DRESS--1.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="631" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrf1RvVs9wGQu1K-6uLmM7p1m2rIw2Ory4P7awiftjO-mUskFsT3_GnkUTTQ_Mdl5VjyVXlbzJD1LRGKu6i2duec9xrGgk5TAPspINrhP7w10cOSnhW-Uj4YM85dOZV2j-OALfyKKSYkttTpO0mVUBAJK5X8bZEeEFkH9y-OstkRjpCaV0Fld5hc1Fy3w/s320/CREPE-COUTURE-SHORT-DRESS--1.webp" width="253" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="https://www.valentino.com/en-us/product-crepe-couture-short-dress--BVA4J61CF_0NA" target="_blank">Valentino short Crepe Couture Black Dress</a> with white shoulder bows. Made in Italy from virgin wool and silk, with concealed back zipper. In my dreams, if I were size 0 to 10, at least 30 years younger and had $5,500 in fashion lettuce and the life to match. (Size 0 already out of stock.) Let's see, that lettuce covers our mortgage, heating oil, electric, groceries, phones and cable, IRS payment plan, doctor and RX co-pays, health insurance, gasoline, car repairs, some money we owe Sis and.....</span></p><p>The style and shopping energy of Madison Avenue sets a very high bar, and I like that.</p><p>Good night.</p><p><br /></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-39307538079924556532023-10-20T12:25:00.017-04:002023-10-21T18:20:14.762-04:00Glitterati, Literati--Rubbing Elbows with the Well-Read Crowd<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5NkRw4gKCUJoznDabDl2INK783UF5zKKfl39ZyW48lmu7sDRL1vB2L2tGfYfgLbJuWgWBArtxMYsIyWfcl694pDNowjr-PazuWt4dtDxy4xMNhQX5sK578Wjcmw0_5P07mZPdA0D8dTIyk5dXIQzo4X061BDPG5Cq3ERTy8kha1wsYwgf6E4HtZIudA/s1610/splash-social.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1610" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5NkRw4gKCUJoznDabDl2INK783UF5zKKfl39ZyW48lmu7sDRL1vB2L2tGfYfgLbJuWgWBArtxMYsIyWfcl694pDNowjr-PazuWt4dtDxy4xMNhQX5sK578Wjcmw0_5P07mZPdA0D8dTIyk5dXIQzo4X061BDPG5Cq3ERTy8kha1wsYwgf6E4HtZIudA/s320/splash-social.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Image from <a href="https://s38490.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/splash-social.png.">https://s38490.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/splash-social.png.</a></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">My New York City </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">born-and-bred</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">mother subscribed to </span><i style="color: #202122;">The New Yorker, </i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">which piqued my curiosity when it arrived weekly in our black metal mailbox in Dumont, New Jersey. But I didn't read it much back then. And though I'm proud that the Hearst Magazines dynasty has been my long-time employer (on staff and freelance), I never did fulfill my dream of also working at one of the glossy crown jewels at </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">Condé Nast Publishing.</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But now, the latter has <i>The New Yorker</i> in its deep duster coat pocket, so I figured a couple degrees of separation would have to do, getting me closer to </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">cream-of-the-crop </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">Condé</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"> at the 24th annual <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/new-yorker-festival/lineup-tickets-2023" target="_blank">New Yorker Festival.</a> I had never gone due to the high ticket cost, but this fall, I went to a free event on Sunday, October 8 at 12:30 p.m. I snagged a ticket for Dan, too, but we had just driven into Brooklyn to dear Kim's and F's for a cocktail party the night before, so he took a pass. Too bad.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">From Montclair, I hopped on Grove Street to Route 3 East and the Lincoln Tunnel to attend a <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/sponsored/story/on-national-geographics-jfk-one-day-in-america-and-preserving-the-past" target="_blank">screening of part one, "JFK: One Day in America,"</a> a documentary series that will stream in early November. The footage of that fateful day in Dallas transports you. You are there, with Mrs. Kennedy in her carefully curated fashions, her pink pillbox hat and navy and pink suit. (How did I never see the navy part before?) With her when she is late for the hotel breakfast and then met with loud applause. With Mrs. Kennedy when her husband is shot in the motorcade. When she has a fleeting breath of hope that he is still alive because they ask what his blood type is outside the emergency room entrance. You are with the two Secret Service agents (now aged, and on camera), who did their very best to protect and save in the midst of shock. With a reporter who was on the scene. You breathe deep, you turn away. You know what is coming.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">But there is also beautiful footage at the start, the family out boating with the children, and more. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">I'm a lifelong Kennedy family buff but this film has many details that had never been revealed. The very best documentary digging, tasteful and true.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">The 23rd Street theatre was packed. I looked around in the dark--a college student, artsy city dwellers who looked like filmmakers and a kind of grumpy big guy to my right who ducked out before the lights went on and the panel discussion began. </span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #202124;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">The panel was great, all four experts charming and smart. We had Amy Starecheski, the Co-Director of the Oral History MA Program at Columbia University; young, pretty, blonde, modest, British and quietly brilliant, not puffed-up* director Ella Wright; Peggy Simpson, who covered the JFK assassination firsthand as a young journalist; and David Glover, the co-CEO of 72 Films, which produced the series. </span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0QB9fmz8loc" width="320" youtube-src-id="0QB9fmz8loc"></iframe></div> </div><div>I was lucky to get free (Sunday) parking right across the street. I did rush back to get Punchy to her community service stint in the afternoon at Toni's, the soup kitchen in town, but let's not go there right now.</div><div><br /></div><div>I can't wait to watch the rest of the series next month. I love New York.<br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdkY1JUOZdvm762fedFQzLJ9xWCboBUULqc0bHUeMEHYpmkNykavPPYye0bWkELl3_TohoODDhojLqZEThul5eJW1S5YWE_vSUIvZ0FnZkfhpVM76hYG9M8DzhLD8kcVY2FfiDwJ3YhJ8iFLKllIVDcPQTdFnhyMqbgKphXJlzshCL6ZBfgWraY0q1zk/s1600/101_Assassination_JKF_OneDayInAmerica_23_R%20(1).webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdkY1JUOZdvm762fedFQzLJ9xWCboBUULqc0bHUeMEHYpmkNykavPPYye0bWkELl3_TohoODDhojLqZEThul5eJW1S5YWE_vSUIvZ0FnZkfhpVM76hYG9M8DzhLD8kcVY2FfiDwJ3YhJ8iFLKllIVDcPQTdFnhyMqbgKphXJlzshCL6ZBfgWraY0q1zk/s320/101_Assassination_JKF_OneDayInAmerica_23_R%20(1).webp" width="320" /></a></div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Image from <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/sponsored/story/on-national-geographics-jfk-one-day-in-america-and-preserving-the-past" target="_blank">here</a>.<div><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: #01ffff; color: #202122; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: #01ffff; color: #202122;">Per Wikipedia: </span><span><span style="background-color: #01ffff;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><b style="font-style: italic;">The New Yorker</b><b> Festival</b></span><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"> is an annual event organized by </span><i style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Yorker" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="The New Yorker">The New Yorker</a></i><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"> magazine.</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-1" style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 1; text-wrap: nowrap; unicode-bidi: isolate;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Yorker_Festival#cite_note-1" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;">[1]</a></sup><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"> It is held in venues in and around </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_City" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="New York City">New York City</a><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;">, typically in early October, bringing together "a who’s-who of the arts, politics and everything in between."</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-magnet_2-0" style="color: #202122; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 1; text-wrap: nowrap; unicode-bidi: isolate;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Yorker_Festival#cite_note-magnet-2" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;">[2]</a></sup><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"> The festival was first held in 1999 and has since become "one of the buzziest cultural events of t</span></span><span style="background-color: #01ffff;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;">he year" as well as "the biggest consumer-facing event for the magazine's parent company </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cond%C3%A9_Nast" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Condé Nast">Condé Nast</a><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;">.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span><span style="background-color: #01ffff;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01; color: #202124; font-family: inherit;">*Hell no, Ella was not puffed up--you cannot elicit cooperation and important historical insights like these if you are a puffed-up film director in requisite black turtleneck, right? Please forgive my stereotype.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-34949694618682801712023-09-16T22:09:00.035-04:002023-09-21T09:26:49.927-04:00The Lilly Pulitzer of Orchids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRofV6KGzHJKX2beIbUX-jlEJmn8L11RdaZXNKT7nm0In21XdYnpNpWmTAGv8LvFC9CYC4HDJglENOJAl1S7k3P35Fq0vl1jzIsXHKuUmD2tA6RPFCsejV0sse0rGEErAGU4IfAoT9M5t0ZfOAZ2-tGV_cjgJorkrP--MbHsrT3hFgaFxe2Cyo3lwmCNU/s4032/IMG_5758%20(1).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRofV6KGzHJKX2beIbUX-jlEJmn8L11RdaZXNKT7nm0In21XdYnpNpWmTAGv8LvFC9CYC4HDJglENOJAl1S7k3P35Fq0vl1jzIsXHKuUmD2tA6RPFCsejV0sse0rGEErAGU4IfAoT9M5t0ZfOAZ2-tGV_cjgJorkrP--MbHsrT3hFgaFxe2Cyo3lwmCNU/s320/IMG_5758%20(1).jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>We saw this fashionable stunner on Saturday at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_Farms" target="_blank">Duke Farms</a>, formerly the estate of tobacco heiress Doris Duke. Parking is free and there is no entrance fee at this New Jersey green space/nature habitat. (Compare to other wallet-tapping destinations like Six Flags.) There are walking/biking trails and bikes for rent.<div><br /></div><div>This orchid, one among many rare ones in a dedicated orchid greenhouse, is so ruffly and pretty. Privileged. Perfectly designed around the edges. And who wouldn't look good in that color?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQm_gsToCOazeSuJ38oefMVIHqC5iaXQmcF0RiLMTbi-RXXikaWSKGd00qzh7BRVFSARtXmqkx8gU_iCsU9_vAGhm4VA1-SXklPhdtelNCMlN1Cp_AfH7ImPU1UAL3cTxC9kTaT6nJSL1pUvu0IUSBPTOndaoqndUZW4vRmBpMEbJxSRscSIepPLjfdw8/s1024/03gordon1-jumbo-v2.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="1024" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQm_gsToCOazeSuJ38oefMVIHqC5iaXQmcF0RiLMTbi-RXXikaWSKGd00qzh7BRVFSARtXmqkx8gU_iCsU9_vAGhm4VA1-SXklPhdtelNCMlN1Cp_AfH7ImPU1UAL3cTxC9kTaT6nJSL1pUvu0IUSBPTOndaoqndUZW4vRmBpMEbJxSRscSIepPLjfdw8/s320/03gordon1-jumbo-v2.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span><div style="text-align: center;"><span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Image of Doris Duke from </i><a href="https://static01.nyt.com/images/2020/05/03/books/review/03gordon1/03gordon1-jumbo-v2.jpg?quality=90&auto=webp" style="font-family: inherit; font-style: italic;" target="_blank">here</a><i style="font-family: inherit;">. The New York Times obit said she stood tall--at 6</i><i>’</i><i style="font-family: inherit;">1"</i><i style="font-family: inherit;">. </i></span><i style="font-family: inherit;">I love the cigarette pants and slim, tapered flats. </i></div></span><div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">I could also imagine Doris Duke along the trails, on a horse. Duke Farms encompasses </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: inherit;">about 2,700 acres of farm and wood lands with 45 buildings, 9 lakes, 18 miles of roads, 810 acres of woodlands, 464 acres of grassland bird habitat and 1.5 miles of stone walls, per Wikipedia. It was not lost on me that all this was possible due to the selling of cigarettes and killing of lungs, but at least the fresh-air habitat exists now.</span></div></div>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6095391922604035629.post-76565330299224495362023-08-20T22:01:00.021-04:002023-08-25T11:13:29.007-04:00In Maine, Melancholy, Family, Blueberries & the Mountaintop <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCljtZsBP7pyCXQm3z6trZznPsX2oNmkxU7adeGi8qV8BoNkTWs-X0i2CH8fOJ3nha2dqJ5qlUdOBbKX59YWuPPvsfHqtWNJijuyMildsPq4vHIWbuDre_PyBQmh5jHlpFygUNPrAsZelnXE7S4kMIuJZdultIPC3wQImwUc-NK2PRMbEDRMwpzvDfe7s/s1280/QOoVlew_d.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCljtZsBP7pyCXQm3z6trZznPsX2oNmkxU7adeGi8qV8BoNkTWs-X0i2CH8fOJ3nha2dqJ5qlUdOBbKX59YWuPPvsfHqtWNJijuyMildsPq4vHIWbuDre_PyBQmh5jHlpFygUNPrAsZelnXE7S4kMIuJZdultIPC3wQImwUc-NK2PRMbEDRMwpzvDfe7s/s320/QOoVlew_d.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><i>The movie "Peyton Place" was filmed in and around Belfast and Camden. Image from <a href="https://imgur.com/QOoVlew" target="_blank">here</a>.</i><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dan and I arrived Wednesday at 5:30 p.m., in time for </span><a href="https://www.newsbreak.com/belfast-me/3110389748200-there-s-a-new-18-foot-long-sturgeon-in-belfast" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">an event</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> to celebrate his brother David Hurley's 34-foot "Sturgeon" mural, newly mounted near Penobscot Bay in Belfast. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Hurley family is large, and earned gold-star attendance, from Mary, the matriarch, almost 94, to her sons (missing Patrick only), daughter, two granddaughters. Of course, Dave's wife, Sheila, their three smart, handsome grown sons and one lovely daughter-in-law. (Mary has six other grandchildren who were not there.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>Dave is a gifted artist. This is important public art. The sturgeon is steeped in history and the long Native American name for the river here relates to the fish. Dave met with the historian from the Penobscot Nation, and brought in a father and son from </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #242424;">the </span><a href="https://burnurwurbskeksingers.com/" rel="nofollow" style="--tw-ring-color: rgba(59,130,246,0.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; background-color: white; border: 0px solid rgb(227, 227, 227); box-sizing: border-box; color: #2f80ed; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Burnurwurbskek Singers</a>, <span style="background-color: white; color: #242424;">an indigenous drumming and singing group. Mary and I, sitting arm to arm in the crowd, loved the drumbeat.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">The <span><span style="background-color: white; color: #242424;">refreshments were clever:</span><span> Homemade peanut butter, mini chocolate chip and other flavor cookies rolled and cut into large fish shapes, almost 6 inches long. Bowls of red Swedish Fish and Goldfish crackers. (The snacks reminded me of the Smarties candy I brought for Dan's <i>Smarter</i> book signing in Montclair. )</span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-weight: bold;">But soon after, the melancholy set in.</span><b> </b><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><b>The blues.</b></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><b>Tired, mopey, feeling sorry for myself. More coffee. Why bother? Look how I'm aging. Look how we are all aging. I don't like my hair color; it's too brown. My hair is not as full. My mother-in-law is in her nineties. Look, look how life gets in the end. So many days, she doesn't feel good. See how a woman ages. I never saw my own mother old like this. It's scary.</b></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><b>We won't be here forever. It's sad. I'm low-energy. I used to hike and walk much farther and faster. Now, I'm just too tired. I might as well take a morning nap and let Dan go alone to watch that cardboard boat race. Why should I go? I don't want to laugh.</b></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><b>I was 26 on my first visit to Maine. Reverse the numbers for my age now.</b></span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">And this is my first trip up in 28 years that did not include one or both girls. Figgy is working at her new job at the university and Skippy chose to be with her boyfriend and his Dad in Pennsylvania. I missed them both. I was glad for the liberty to focus on just Dan's and my plans but sad for the way it feels to be an empty nester on vacation. Seeing young Figgy in my mind's eye on a mountaintop, scrambling for blueberries like the bear cub in <i>Blueberries for Sal </i>and Skippy, age 7, walking in and around the Camden shops with me. I am also sad about growing older, having some health problems and worries.</span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow morning, after coffee with family, we are heading to Mary's to say goodbye and then drive back home. </span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I did hit some trusty Maine high notes here though, with and without Dan:</span></span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tiny wild <a href="https://www.bluebarrens.farm/" target="_blank">Blue Barrens Farm</a> blueberries at the Belfast Co-op, about $5.50 for a pint. So many, and so mini. </span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Quick pop into the Glendarragh Farm Lavender Store on Main Street in Camden. Beautiful hair clips, lavender honey, wool throws and more. I bought a glass bottle of lavender hand soap for my sister-in-law and a tube of hand cream to soothe myself at bedtime.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Two brothers (Dan and John) and I drove up the auto road to Mount Battie in Camden Hills State Park. I will never, ever tire of that view of the Camden cove, or of Edna St. Vincent Millay's lyric words on the plaque up there. She lived in Camden and I want to explore some of her papers one day in the Camden Public Library*.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Walk on the rail trail this evening. Pretty.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">View of the bay from our first two nights at Fireside Inn & Suites in Belfast. Rolling hill, atmospheric weather.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Family dinners with Pat and Martha, who hosted us for three more nights. :)</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mike took Dan and me out for a boat ride in an old motorboat Pat bought over 30 years ago. It was nice.</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Young's Lobster Pound.</span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">*Per Wikipedia: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camden_Public_Library" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Camden Public Library">Camden Public Library</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> also shares Mt. Battie's view. It has the first couplets of "Renascence" inscribed along the perimeter of a large skylight: "All I could see from where I stood / Was three long mountains and a wood; / I turned and looked another way, / And saw three islands in a bay."</span><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-71" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; line-height: 1; unicode-bidi: isolate; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edna_St._Vincent_Millay#cite_note-71" style="background: none; color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;">[71]</a></sup><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> The library's Walsh History Center collection contains the scrapbooks created by Millay's high-school friend, Corinne Sawyer, as well as photos, letters, newspaper clippings, and other ephemera.</span></span></div><p></p>Alice Garbarini Hurleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00200746626686412315noreply@blogger.com6