One Snow Battle After Another

This snow and its aftereffects have been exhausting, ever since our world became a frozen tundra starting Sunday, January 25. I know I should be grateful for creature comforts. But this is no innocent storybook blanket of white. 

1. Our neighbors are maneuvering beloved New York City with mountains of snow, garbage and uncollected recycling. The ice-crusted snow is not going anywhere. Many homeless people have died in NY and NJ.

2. It takes forever to get out of this 1924 Dutch Colonial house. I like easy flip flops, not lace-up L.L. Bean boots--though in a reluctant nod to nature, I bought a pair up in Vermont when visiting Meg. Lacing the boots adds a lot of extra time.

3. If I'm thickly bundled up, I can't drive. I can't budge at the steering wheel. So I have to take my coat off.

4. Our car died at least three times, and we spent a lot of money to fix it. I noticed a number of other car hoods up/vehicles stalled in my travels.

5. Too much carb loading, too little cooking. What is a green vegetable? Please remind me. I did manage a batch of Grace's Mushroom Soup, a big pot of chili and a vegan banana bread from the Babycakes cookbook for Figgy, who has been hunkering down and busily writing her PhD application. But otherwise, crackers, deli ham, melted cheese, chilled prebiotic sodas poured over lots of ice and coffee, coffee, coffee call my name.

6. Dogs are out of their element. They can't find a spot to do their business. I know, because I watched my Sis's sweet Galena for nine days (in Connecticut and here) while Sis traveled. I walked that dust-mop darling three times a day, she in a plum-colored parka, and often, we both dreaded going outside. Tail down, shoulders up, let's go.

7. Some families have little or no food, so I should not complain about a privileged $55 Saturday night pizza delivery from a place in Wayne that we used to love. I ordered the special, a plain pizza, salad and Italian hero package; the chicken parmigiana hero with vodka sauce that Punch always loved; and garlic knots. What a disappointment. The $55 included all the taxes and fees and the $7 tip for the driver. None of it was stellar, and the pizza was practically cold. I figured we would have ample leftovers in this snow situation, but am about to throw them out. 

Yet I have never been more grateful for a heated home. When I walk in the door, I thank God that our oil tank is not on "E" (it has sometimes been) and that the old radiators are still cranking out heat. 

Leaving the Cape Behind Again

The view from the path behind Coast Guard Beach at sunset Friday.

Old Coast Guard Station.

Dan on the bridge we love, which spans the marsh and meadow.

    

Don't look too close at these almost oldies.

Three nights/four days with Dan—in a motel near our (former) family house. We filled our hearts and souls with all the Cape we could fit. We rode the bike trail two days. Lapped up soft-serve vanilla with the best chocolate dip once (Hot Chocolate Sparrow). Early Bird Walk at Wellfleet Audubon. Sweet, tender lobster. Great Pond. Reading books. Naps.

Breathing deep. Feeling our age but also feeling the breeze. I see those two new parents biking over this bridge (pictured above) near sunset with a little red-haired girl on the tandem behind her Dad. Our knees weren’t stiff, and I was much slimmer, wearing a Gap khaki skort. Gray hair? No way. Later, I glimpse those same parents, tired but determined, with a younger, brunette girl who refuses to pose on the bridge for a photo except when making a face and wearing a red devil hairband. But her hair is streaked gold, proof of playful moments in the sun.

Oldness was not yet creeping in, or forgetfulness. And now we leave, but we shall return.

I’m posting this from the Amtrak waiting area in South Station, Boston. Beautiful train station. 

Beach Notes

Grateful for a short getaway with Dan, which he planned. Timeless messages in a bottle I was able to discern through the sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear, weathered lens of my life view:

• Hurricanes cut a fearless, take-no-prisoners path. Erin closed the beaches yesterday (no sandy part to sit on, and the tides were menacing) and flooded the main roads pretty bad. Dan's cap was about to blow off. And today at Island Beach State Park, we were told we could only wade up to our ankles. But the weather was beautiful.
• Lifeguards are golden. Saviors in red trunks or one-pieces ran along the surf, toting weights. Then two went in and rode the giant swells, one on a yellow board that said RESCUE and one in a little boat. The waves were so big, it looked like the vessels would capsize. But they did not, with skillful guards in charge.
• Beach sleep is the best sleep. I fell into a deep one in a chair down by the water but then Erin waves washed up over my bag, my books etc. Dan appeared at that instant and I woke up with a jolt. 
• New Jersey's barrier island is (kind of) like Cape Cod. Some of the same flora, from beach roses to marsh grass. Dunes, though not as towering. But little flies bit big here in the swaying grass. The old visitor center has Cape-like treasures, including finds from shipwrecks, such as heavy canvas diver's shoes and haunting deadeyes, stuffed gulls and a spry fox. I will return.
• Surfside menus are predictable and unhealthy. You'll find sushi (good), subs, seafood, some nice iced coffee if you search, ice cream, sweet cocktails with colorful sunset names, chicken fingers, burgers, deep-fried appetizers. I had a fresh Garden State house salad with crisp cucumbers and peppers by the sea. But fries abound. I didn't finish the salad but did swipe some of Dan's French fries.
• Ocean air smells good.
• Saltwater taffy is still a seaside thing.
• Sunset over the bay is a painting. Pinks, purples, oranges. You feel fortunate to see it.
• Some beach house signs have great messages. IF YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE AT THE BEACH, YOU'RE LUCKY ENOUGH, one said. Another had a silhouette of a mermaid and said MERMAID X-ING, which made me think of our daughters.

Good night.

16 Sweet Gratitudes, Catching Up

1. New Prada lipstick in the house. I bought my first tube in mid-May at the Nordstrom flagship in NYC and used it down to the nub. The colors are so stylish. Prada is so stylish. A lot of lettuce, $50 plus tax, but very worth it. The counter guru helped me find two great hues in person now. But the matte is a bit drying, so best to put the Prada lip balm under or on top, or even dab on Vaseline.
2. Lunch with young MTM*, my colleague and friend, a couple of Sundays ago in Princeton. We ate on Witherspoon Street. MTM had a salad and I had the chicken pot pie. It was a beautiful day, and we had been talking about reconnecting for years. :)
3. Chef Lidia Bastianich at the Ferguson Library in Stamford on a weeknight with Sis and Diane. We soaked up Lidia's hints, such as how to tell if you're buying real Italian San Marzano tomatoes. If a food is made in Italy, the packaging will say PRODUCT OF ITALY, Lidia said. I used that rule when selecting prosciutto last weekend.
4. "A Wonderful World, The Louis Armstrong Musical" on Broadway. I went to the matinee yesterday with Sis and Edie. It was.very.very.good. I've played Satchmo's music today. 
5. Post-theater dinner two blocks away at Patsy's, a landmark Italian restaurant and celeb magnet on West 56th Street since 1944. Best shrimp scampi with spaghetti that I have ever eaten. In my life. The simple pan sauce was intuitively done, "broiled with butter, garlic and lemon," per the menu. Tender butterflied shrimp. And if I were still indulging in desserts, I'm quite sure the ones I eyed on the old-fashioned rolling cart, pushed by a waiter, would have been winning. Especially that fancy ruffled chocolate cake or tiramisu.
6. "Conclave" film about electing/selecting a Pope. Dan and I saw it on opening night of the  Montclair Film Festival. Very well done. The acting (Ralph Fiennes, Isabella Rossellini, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow) is superb as are the settings and secret rituals of selecting a Pope. Director Edward Berger was there at the Wellmont Theater and took questions afterward.
7. The New Yorker Festival. Drove into NYC with my friend Anne to see New Yorker Magazine editor David Remnick interview Rachel Maddow.
8. The cold opening of SNL last night, Saturday, November 2, with Maya Rudolph and the real Kamala Harris. (Thank you, Nan, for texting link.)
9. A hike in the Stamford arboretum woods with Sis and Galena.
10. Walks around our block and in Anderson Park and Edgemont Park.
11. Tea nightcap at Figgy's apartment the other night.
12. Dinner in a Dumont tavern with Moey and Tish.
13. "Godzilla" movie. Newest version, made by Japanese writer and director Takashi Yamazaki. 
14. Ina Garten's memoir.
15. Seeing my friend Rachy for late breakfast, another thing that's been put off for months.
16. Work clients, including two new ones. I'm grateful.

I just realized many of these are Italian--numbers 1, 3, 5 and 6. And 12 is famous for its pizza.

*Dan gave my friend Eileen the "young MTM" nickname decades ago, before she was married, when we went to a party she hosted in Weehawken in her pretty little Mary Tyler Moore-style apartment with a view of NYC's sparkling skyline across the river.

Setting Intentions

This beautiful photo is from the Mario Cuomo Bridge website. I can't find the photographer's name, but wish I could. What a keen eye. 

When I turned 60 in January 2021, as another pandemic year unfolded, the Tappan Zee/Mario Cuomo Bridge walking path was open. Even in the chills of winter, I wanted to walk it, but also wanted someone in my family to join, and nobody was convinced. So while I was in Connecticut in September, about 35 minutes drive from the Westchester start of the bridge, I set a Sunday to walk it. Dan drove and met me. It was all I hoped it would be, that Hudson River view, the nature, the wide expanse, the big feeling. The connecting with Dan. The guide says it takes 80 minutes each way to walk (3.6 mile span, then back again), so we did maybe 2/3 of the length and turned around. I told myself I would do it weekly. 

I think I'm going today, and hope Dan joins after trimming the hedges and also that my friend Anne comes. Otherwise, I'm good on my own, starting on the Nyack side this time.

Intentions for this week:

• Every weekday, I get up about 7:30 a.m. I would like to shower first before doing Wordle, Spelling Bee, reading some news articles and seeing Punch out the door to the school van. Problem is, I like getting a cup of coffee with cream right away, and lingering over it. So do I do that briefly and then go back up to shower? I get sucked into the comfort of it all, the swirl of the internet and social media sometimes, too. (I would like to know what you do, friend.)
• Apply makeup (not much, but enough to look alive and bring my eyes out), earrings, necklace, skirt and shoes. Put socks and sneakers by the door so I'm ready to walk later.
• Get to my desk and get busy on writing assignments, don't work from the living room furniture.
• Take a walk every day. I have been pretty good about this, but not at a set time, and that seems risky.
• Make dinner. But our dishwasher is not working (for weeks), so we have to hand-wash every last tumbler, skillet and spoon. Even pink grapefruit dish soap only goes so far to lighten the task. But it does contain essential oils.
• Go to restorative yoga one night a week.
• Keep up with the 2 support groups I attend. That can be a lot, but also a relief.

Let me stop there for now. That list is plenty ambitious. xo Thanks.

"Standing By Peaceful Waters"

This pretty little book was published in 1973. I picked it up and put it back a few times over the years in the Cape Cod gift shop--I can't remember if it was at the National Seashore Visitor Center or the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary. I've known their book inventories pretty well, with all that compounded vacation time to browse by peaceful waters. The colorful illustrated cover and the title called out to me, even if I never in my life make Beach Plum Jelly. I finally bought the soft cover one year and just rediscovered it on the bookshelves in my home office. 

With quiet time alone this week, I've been reading it. Wonderful work by Elizabeth Post Mirel (who had three young children at the time, including a baby) with graceful illustrations by Betty Fraser. I do want the kind of calm where I make a pocket of time to read Plum Crazy, because it evokes a place and a passion. Our long-time Cape Cod friends Rite and Bob picked beach plums. I don't know if I ever learned to recognize the fruit until now, but there may be some nearby here in Connecticut.

Sis flew to the Southwest (New Mexico) to travel with her Peace Corps friend and family and called on me to dog-sit her enchanting pup, Galena, for more than a week. I walk that girly at least three times a day, and never sleep past 8, because she doesn't.

I'm loving it. Sis still gets The New York Times paper edition delivered daily. I sat on the sofa drinking in the Sunday Styles section. I met my friend/magazine colleague Mary Kate, who lives nearby, for a lovely catch-up breakfast in Cos Cob (part of Greenwich). I went to Mass in Stamford, and then asked Google to find the nearest Whole Foods, so ended up in high-end Darien midday Sunday, where I felt like a fish out of moneyed water. Two striking blonde women (not together) wore little immaculate white pleated tennis skirts, in perfect contrast to their golden tans. They were coming from or going to the courts. Eyewear was on trend, as were baby carriers and the handsome young dads wearing them for weekend duty. Some branded local products (cacao pudding and whipped bath scrub) were tempting but both went the way of beautiful Ice Cream Tulip bulbs, named for their double ice-cream-cone like blooms, but over my budget. The children, for the most part, seemed well-mannered. The place was packed. Though the store was mostly stocked with the same products our Montclair Whole Foods carries, I felt an imbalance, shall we say, which I never feel in my diverse hometown.

Behold luscious Ice Cream Tulips. I want to add some to our spring garden. 

You can also find Strawberry Ice Cream Tulips (red) 

and Banana Ice Cream Tulips (yellow). 

If I revisit Darien Whole Foods, I will buy a bag of bulbs.

Galena and I have been marina-gazing here in Shippan Point, turning our faces to the birds flying over the harbor and crossing paths with baby deer and other dogs (Pluto, Milo, Bo, etc.). We went to a small beach and walked out on the fishing pier, which has evenly spaced holes in the railings to rest poles while prepping bait or waiting for a bite.

When we go out back on the short boardwalk path by tall feathery grass and a snow egret, Galena and I stop by the plaque that commemorates the trade between two chiefs of Onax Tribe No. 41, International Order of Red Men, and a white British captain in 1640 and memorialized for the city of Stamford in 1916. The original owners swapped this beauty for some coats, glasses, knives, kettles, wampum and a few other things. Read more about that here (excellent report by Chase Wright).

Harbors are calm, harbors are good, whether our paths are charted or uncharted. Which brings me to these beautiful lyrics from "Lake Marie," by John Prine, released in 1995:

We were standing

Standing by peaceful waters

Standing by peaceful waters.....

SPOKEN: Many years ago along the Illinois-Wisconsin Border

There was this Indian tribe

They found two babies in the woods

White babies

One of them was named Elizabeth

She was the fairer of the two

While the smaller and more fragile one was named Marie

Having never seen white girls before

And living on the two lakes known as the Twin Lakes

They named the larger and more beautiful Lake, Lake Elizabeth

And thus the smaller lake that was hidden from the highway

Became known forever as Lake Marie...

Onward now...

Correction: When I wrote this post on the fourth floor of the Shops at Hudson Yards in NYC yesterday, I put the wrong date for the tribal trade. It was 1640, not 1612. The plaque commemorates the original July 1, 1640 sale by American Indian Chiefs Ponus and Wascussue to British Capt. Nathaniel Turner, an agent for the New Haven Colony.

Bees Sting, Owls Watch

Moey has three younger brothers, and this photo is by Ryan Cassidy, the son of her baby bro, Jimmy, born when we were in fourth grade. I hadn't seen Ryan in a while but last night, he showed us some photos on Moey and Ted's deck. He is gifted. It takes a close, patient and quiet eye to capture nature like this. LMK if you need a wildlife image. I will send you Ryan's contact info. Photo copyright Ryan Cassidy.

Summer stung like a bumblebee this year in many ways. But the details are too personal to publish. 

Still, pollinators are good, so maybe this sting can turn out to help our family somehow grow and reseed. IDK. Take the stinger out, follow a winding path to eventual flowers or dripping golden honey?

It takes great effort to step back and accept. Risky behaviors, unsafe choices. I hope and pray, but that only goes so far for me. It doesn't give me endless serenity and trust. I can't change the past--not my own flawed behaviors and certainly not the teenager's early god-given road.

So what can I do? I can apply salve (I took a bath with a luscious Dolly Moo bamboo & blue tansy bath bomb today, smells so good and clean and the color is so pretty). Even combed on a little black mascara, swiped on Prada lipstick, dipped into Bobbi Brown beachy nude cream eye shadow. I can take a peaceful nap. I can continue to love even when I do not want to, or think I possibly can. I can follow a code of tolerance and love. 

I can judge and criticize less.

Yesterday was Moey's bday. Dan and I went over to the deck for thin crust pizza, vegs and dip, chilled shrimp and to sing happy birthday. Her parents are 87 and 86 (ck); I can't believe it. When they had Moey 63 years ago, Mr. C. was 24 and Mrs. C. was 23. Ted was there (Moey's husband), their fun, smart son, Kevin, and Ryan Cassidy, their nephew. He is into wildlife photography. Look at that amazing photo above!

Well, I might watch another episode of "Emily in Paris" on my laptop now.

Good night.

I enjoyed Friday night with Figgy. I wish I had a good Spice photo 

but she won't take pictures with us too often lately. I sunk pretty Papyrus unicorn bday candles into this vegan Jeni's Lemon Bar ice cream for Figgy. I wish they had sugar-free, for me. (The website says $12 but I found it at Wegmans on sale for $6.99.)

"Toyota Universe" and #Onceinabluemoon

Image from and info at https://starwalk.space/fr/news/full-blue-moon*.

Hi from the Toyota service center on Route 46 East in Little Falls, New Jersey.

I'm happy to be here for a noon appointment on a summer Wednesday because

A. It's our first free maintenance check and oil change (under warranty) on the preowned (formerly leased only) RAV4 we bought this spring. It feels good to take care of yourself and of your car. This is fun, especially when the service, with 21-point check, is already paid for, though of course you get ripped off with inflated interest rates and bloated warranty protection charges, etc. when you sign the contract. Next time, if and when there is a next time, I will be far more present and careful. Dan and I did our best. I am grateful for our car.

B. I'm in a workspace away from home, hooray, sitting at a cubicle with a big desktop computer. Not seeing dustballs on carpet, dishes to wash, faded orange echinacea to deadhead in the garden, never mind my laptop and notepads of interview notes, stories I want to pitch. It's just the service area holding room, but it takes me back to all the offices I worked in--at clean desks with other people committed to a common, branded purpose. In this case, it's Toyota technicians and service advisors (shoutout to my man Luis) and of course, the cashier, but I might as well be back at the Twin-Boro News, The Daily Targum at Rutgers, The Nation summer internship. Woman's Day, Seventeen, Good Housekeeping, Cigar Aficionado or Strategic Communications, my last NYC staff job. Or the Hot Chocolate Sparrow on Cape Cod or Joyist, the fabulous smoothie place that thrived in Montclair before the pandemic shuttered it. I loved working on my Rose Gold laptop there, while the Joyist pros buzzed up healthy "Natalie" pink drinks and peanut-butter fueled "Lukes," salads and bowls in that sleek, modern space. All of us--we were industrious and working for a greater cause, witnesses to one another's efficiency and effort. That's what you lose when you work alone at home.

Nissan has free Danishes, a fellow Toyota owner said to several of us near the free coffee machine. (No pastries or bagels there at noon, just vending machines.) We all like to convene and kibitz with other people.

I've been organizing my sunroom office for over a month now. I've filled seven grocery totes or more with books I needed, wanted, loved and in many cases never even cracked open. Pricey cookbooks, including one all about making jam, a double I bought of a Giada fresh Italian bible, an extra Michael Pollan copy. I removed a small bookcase from my sunroom office to make space. That's how many books I have released. I've been unearthing beautiful wood shelves and polishing them with my little bottle of luxury Diptyque leather and wood lotion, featured in my assignment for Good Housekeeping, 10 Best Furniture Polishes of 2024, Tested by Cleaning Experts. Anything French and chic is a win in my book.

SURPRISE NEW ENGLAND LOBSTER ROLL AND SUMMER BLUE MOON!!!!!

Sis told me Sunday about the blue moon coming Monday. It doesn't look blue, just perfectly full, bright, textured and seen. Memorable. Craters, storybook dimensions. So clear and close, you wish to pluck it from the sky.

So Monday at 5 p.m., I drove to Connecticut (usually one-hour drive but took 1 hr. 20 minutes due to rush hour and downpours) to see the #onceinabluemoon Supermoon with her. It was stupendous. 

I can see little blue men up there, Sis joked, pausing to look through her binoculars while we walked her dog, Galena. 

Add to that a lobster roll that rivals the best I ever had, maybe 30 years ago in Kennebunkport, Maine with Dan pre-kids or the one we loved at McLoon's Lobster Shack with Spice/Spike more recently. This roll was a special at Tomato Tomato, a pizza/Italian restaurant right down the street from Sis in Stamford. Big, succulent "local" lobster pieces. Melted butter for dipping. Toasted, charred, buttered bun with perfect grill marks. It was an appetizer, and cost $25, but it was ample. Sis treated. I only paid a little. 

And the dazzling Democratic National Convention in Chicago!!!!!!! Michelle and Barack Obama. JFK's grandson, Jack Schlossberg (newly minted contributer to Vogue). Oprah. Nancy Pelosi. President Bill Clinton. Young poet Amanda Gorman. So much. So much hope.

Good night.

*

*In French from that site: 

Qu'est-ce qu'une Lune bleue ?

L'origine du nom est encore incertaine. Il est utilisé depuis longtemps ; certains le font remonter à 400 ans, lorsque cela signifiait quelque chose qui ne pouvait jamais se produire (d'où l'expression anglaise "once in a Blue Moon").

Une Lune bleue peut être saisonnière et calendaire. Examinons de plus près chaque définition.

translated from French: 

What is a Blue Moon?

The origin of the name is still uncertain. It has been used for a long time; some date it back 400 years, when it meant something that could never happen (hence the English expression "once in a Blue Moon").

A Blue Moon can be seasonal and calendar. Let's take a closer look at each definition.

Calming Breezes in the Carolina Hills

Janet, Chris, me, Mary, Barb, Jill, Denise and Nancy in Asheville after dinner at The Noodle Shop.

One of my friends took this beautiful photo.

We took a 1.5 mile round trip hike on one of the trails off the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway. Really lovely and fresh. So different from life at home. Freeing, nurturing, supportive and fun to be with these ladies. We have known each other for most of our lives. We work as: accountant, scientists, math teacher, schoolteacher to little ones, hard-working mother, recent college provost. Four of us are grandmothers now.

Today is the last of 4 nights in the Airbnb. We are sad to part but toying with plans for next June.

I still have until Saturday with Nancy (exploring Asheville and then heading back to Maine with her, then meeting my family there for niece Leah and Greg's wedding and six more nights). Janet and Jill will be with us a few hours tomorrow too but Barb, Denise, Mary and Chris depart early early in the morning to make their flights. 

Chris, left, and Mary, right. Adding this photo because the second group shot captures Mary in an awkward position and I want to make up for that!

Other things:

1. We played Scattergories in teams. Fun. Personalities and pleading came out. Barb was the judge if we squabbled. 
2. We made tacos, black beans and salad last night. Jill brought farm eggs and freshly grown summer squash, cucumbers and zucchini from her daughter.
3. I looked very heavy in a sitting photo and I felt sad.
4. I have been sad about recent Romeo and Juliet break. I pray for them both to be held safely in God's hands.
5. I have been worried about how Juliet will manage. Dan told me to stop getting lost in it. I am trying. It is not my relationship, not my young life path. 
6. I've been in touch with dear Figgy.
7. We went to the Biltmore Estate today. Such opulence, and history. Gilded Age. Jill bought tickets ahead for $90 each (Tuesday rate). 
8. The "boozy milkshakes" whipped up with ice cream made at the Biltmore looked good but we didn't get any--or cones or sundaes. It was okay. I'm not 14 or 24 anymore.
9. I had a North Carolina BBQ sandwich.
10. We lit local beeswax tea lights at the table.
11. We visited the Biltmore Winery and shops.
12. I saw some pretty Carolina style on tourists at the Biltmore. Nice pedis and hair, a lacy white tunic over mid-length pants.
13. I made a friend while sitting enjoying the mountain view: Linda, a mom from Ohio who was there with her three grown daughters. My friends were walking the gardens in the hot sun and so were Linda's three daughters. I talked to her about the Punchy situation and she was supportive and wise about faith and life.
14. I'm thinking of my kindergarten/lifelong friends Moey and Fritch.

Going to rest. Good night.

Cleaning House 🧽 🧽 🚿 🚿 & False Alarm

Last day, rub, scrub, dust, sweep up any sand at the family house, built in 1979. Shake the throw rug outdoors. (Sis did).

But not until after the two-hour Early Bird Walk 8 a.m. at the Sanctuary. So great. Purple Martins, Baltimore Orioles, Snowy Egrets, osprey nest, terns, ducks, willets, turkey vultures, painted turtles, frogs, fiddler crabs, beautiful marshland and sea grass. A wonderful naturalist leading us, young, enthusiastic and deeply smart David. As if on cue, there were moments I saw as Oh look, binoculars up, everyone in unison! David set up his scope on a tripod so we could take a close peek. So cool. And we had a couple all the way from Austria in our group of 12. The fellow had flown to the U.S. with his scope and tripod.

Meg did so much cleaning! Vacuuming, doing the whole bathroom. She was like a white tornado whipping through. Her husband, Greg, put the white lace Victorian curtains from Cape May back in place. (Fun-loving doggy, Galena, pulled at them when we left her in the house for dinner Monday.) Meg and Greg parted by noon for Vermont. 

Sis and I are still at it, Windexing, unloading last dishwasher load, taking off our bedsheets, vacuuming more, packing up fridge, hauling out garbage and recycling to dispose of in Connecticut vs. going to the dump here and paying, overstuffing the car, packing up doggy bed, mini crate, her food and other necessities. One of us (I) may have childishly overpacked. I should probably change that.

Great news, we talked to Will and still time to come up to house at least once again this summer, he said.

Hooray!

Drinking in Cape Cod Beauty & Joy

We left at 9 a.m. for the Sharks & Seals walk and talk at Coast Guard Beach, led by park ranger Valerie. It was everything we hoped it would be, and free of charge, of course, part of the Cape Cod National Seashore event schedule.

It started raining, we saw seals bobbing in the waves, Valerie passed around a shark's tooth and showed us a seal's skull (its sharp teeth can hurt when it bites). 

We met a lovely couple from England in the group, Patience and Simon, and discussed the merits of good English teatime. (Piping hot boiling water to brew the tea.) They live near the coast, the place you see in "Wicked Little Letters," that great English dark mystery comedy film Figgy and I took in last month at the Clairidge. It stars Olivia Colman, Jessie Buckley, Anjana Vasan and others, a stellar cast.

Greg, Sis, me and Meggy on Coast Guard Beach after the Sharks & Seals walk.

We went out to breakfast and lattes at The Whisk in Orleans, a first for us, and good. Then stopped by Nauset (as opposed to Nauset Light) Beach, to look for more seals but didn't find them in the misty rain. Back home to rest and read, play Wordle. 

For dinner, we drove to Chatham and Sis treated us all to a splurge dinner at The Impudent Oyster, a popular, longstanding restaurant that my brother Will and Kelly love. It's the kind of place with excellent whipped potatoes, good wine, ample helpings of steak au poivre and halibut. I had bouillabaisse (BOO-yə-BESS, -⁠BAYSS), a traditional fish soup, with steamed Wellfleet oysters, mussels, scallops, clams, shrimp and lobster, and a slice of garlic toast on top to dunk in the rich fish broth. The dish came with a lobster bib and metal cracker. I had to open the big claw to coax the meat from the bright orange shell. The bread and butter for the table was not as divine (or warmed?) as I remember from rare visits 20+ years ago, but.....

The restaurant is right near my beloved Lilly Pulitzer store, a shrine to pretty fashion and accessories, where I bought beautiful summer shift dresses for both of our little girls back when. And around the corner from the adorable Candy Manor, a fixture with its signature pink awning and hand-dipped chocolates, but both shops were closed for the night. We stopped by the little white lighthouse, which never closes, its beam spinning in the fog.

Then 30 minutes to drive back home on winding Route 28, past water views, charming houses with white picket fences and hydrangeas, two historic windmills.

It is never boring here. There is always something to see, hear, do, read or eat. Breezes. Birds calling. The Cape Cod Times (now $3 at the Superette in Eastham!). Fudge in square metal pans. Donuts people line up for. Shellfish. Cocktails. Souvenir sweatshirts, some quite soft and pretty. And people who live and work here, workers, teachers, contractors and women who stand behind counters in candy shops and banks. Summer help, college kids serving swirled frozen custard cones, rolling them in chocolate or rainbow sprinkles. The handsome, helpful young man at the bike shop who has been there 10 years.

Well, tomorrow we clean and lock up the house, but before that we rise at 7 a.m. to get ready for the Early Bird Walk at the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary, 8 to 10 a.m. Seems like things are going okay at home, and that is great progress compared to other years. I am much more relaxed being away with Dan at home. Fingers crossed, prayers in my heart.

I would like to write more but I want to rest.

More photos here. Good night.

Chatham Light, overlooking Chatham Bars Beach.

Sis at Nauset Beach.

See Jane Walk

 I took this photo last spring--a thoughtfully crafted home in our boxwood shrub. 

The babies did rise up and fly away.

Happy to report a 20-minute walk at 7 p.m. This may sound like a kindergartner's recap, but here is what I saw:

1. A robin redbreast (at least I think so). My birder (Figgy) is in her own apartment, not here to verify.
2. A cracked light blue robin's eggshell. It was in the green grass, a positive sign that a proud, can-do baby emerged, leapt to its feet and took flight. I carried it home carefully, in my palm. "Oh, no," said Punch when I showed her. I told her it meant the baby flew away. "Oh, good," she said. We connected on nature. Common ground.
3. Two adult bunnies scavenging in gardens.
4. A mama deer and two offspring. She was very protective. Stopped in her tracks and stared me down to be sure I wouldn't advance or make trouble. Good maternal instincts.
5. Birds alighting in a shrub to build a nest.

Good night.

Back from Eclipse Chasing

Punch + Romeo on the museum terrace, near Central Park.

The teens made fast friends with New Yorkers around them, 

from a retired teacher to a museum guard. 

I used odd "lasso" effect to encircle photo. I'd like to redo/perfect/play 

with it more, but I have to do my work.

Michael + Dan near Canada. Full totality.

Our threesome in New York, New York.

I was on the terrace behind the Museum of Natural History in New York, New York to watch the solar eclipse with family (and strangers, who became fast friends). We three, even our hard-to-impress teen girl, are glad we went. Romeo, Punch and I are tired now. Walked to cute old train station in Montclair, boarded 10:56 a.m. double decker to NY Penn Station, explored Moynihan Train Hall, bustling and fun, and took C subway to 81st Street/museum stop ($2.90 per person each way when I used my debit card at the turnstile, still a pretty good deal).

Dan and his close pal drove all the way up in Vermont near Canada to see the full effect and are stuck in crawling traffic back tonight. They couldn't find coffee or a bathroom on those narrow highways. Figgy and friend drove to Lake George and then another viewing destination in New York State. (Both parties left a day ahead and found lodging.) Punchy's school closed at 1 p.m. today for the eclipse (so everyone "could stay safe") and Romeo has spring break this week. So we let Punch miss the short school day. It was history. It was good. So cool to see that flat, perfectly round shadowy black skillet bottom glide slowly, slowly over the fiery cooking flame of the sun. We didn't see totality but all cardboard eclipse glasses on, necks craned, faces to the sky at 3:25 p.m. Eastern Time. No flash in the pan. Totally worth it.

Cape Cod CliffsNotes

Sis on my bridge behind Coast Guard Beach.

Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary--I have been the proud holder of a family membership for years.

The four of us--Sis, Meg, Greg and I--have covered a lot of ground since arriving Monday afternoon. Vermonters Meg and Greg don't know the Cape like we do. It's been fun showing them around, and revisiting these soothing sites ourselves.

• Coast Guard Beach (always and forever, though the entry path is new).
• The bridge over the marsh on the path behind Coast Guard--my favorite spot (scents of honeysuckle and beach roses along the way).
• Marconi Beach (tail end of sunset and then night sky).
• Nauset Light Beach (seals dipping in blue sea).
• Race Point Beach, Provincetown (edge of earth).
• Highland Lighthouse, Truro (Dad and I drove there with young Figgy when the light was carefully moved back to prevent eventual toppling into the sea).
• Provincetown proper (Black Dog shop, T-shirts, French bakery, street artist).
• Stop & Shop (the toaster vanished in our brother Will's last household sweep, so we bought a new one).
• Hot Chocolate Sparrow (just a quick look).
• Uncle Tim's Bridge, Wellfleet.
• Mac's on the Pier, Wellfleet (Greg's fried clam plate looked and smelled so good, but my grilled local sea scallops with rice and steamed vegs was also delicious).
• Cable Road, long walk to Nauset Light and back (stop at The Three Sisters Lighthouses along the way).
• Audubon, Audubon, Audubon, tying for favorite spot with bridge over marsh, above (Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary--whale bones, sandy paths, sea lavender, bird blind, fiddler crabs and their sandy hideaways).
• Village Green General Store, Brackett Road, North Eastham (milk, water, Ritz Fresh Stacks, Cabot cheese cuts).
• Shell gas station on Route 6 West.

I know that's a listicle, but...I am very grateful to be away on break, to breathe deep, laugh, get perspective. To distance myself from some drama and fear. To hear and see the ocean waves, to take off my shoes and walk on the uneven sand, uneven as life's path can be...to chat and laugh over breakfast and dinner, catch up, remember. To put on sandals and sunscreen. To realize, with a nod and a prayer, that Sis, my older sister, has some different memories than mine, even of family lighthouse and beach visits, stores and restaurants from girlhood. 

Everywhere we go up here, I remember being there with Dan, Figgy, Skippy, Sis, Don, Sugar, Buttercup, and our dear friends from Montclair. I hear their voices, I see their smiles. I remember our kids as babies, middle schoolers, older teens. I remember Dad and Mom and Aunt Edith, Rite and Bob and former neighbors Dot, Peggy and Joe.

I see graces on this sandy peninsula. Dan is managing home base with Skippy and didn't mind me going away for five days/four nights. 

I'm eager to do a little work now and then crack a book and read. Reading is mandatory to round out a Cape vacation.

Then, Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.

Sad + Scared

These fragile, pale pink roses return every year, 

on branches that weather the grip of winter frost.

The rosebush, a gift from my Girl Scout troop in 2007, 

has thorns but produces delicate buds that seek the sun and unfurl. 

(Dan puts fencing around our 

flower and veggie gardens because deer ravage them.)

Do I need fencing around my garden of life? Yes. 

I try every day to keep healthy boundaries in the face of mental health issues in my home. Many mornings, I wake up feeling scared and sad. I'm working on that with my DBT-trained therapist. Day by day, I try to remember I can protect and distance myself in a calm and mindful way. I am separate from the person with the mental health trauma and from the trauma itself. I do not own it, cannot fix it, though we keep hoping we can, trying many supports and interventions.

I try to practice "radical acceptance," a DBT term.

I prayed today, and sobbed at the kitchen table. (Awkwardly, my cell phone pocket-dialed a Montclair friend, and IDK if my sobbing and praying aloud was recorded.) I felt alone. Fearful. I saw signs today of seriously unhealthy and unsafe interpersonal behaviors, and I am shaken. They are ways NOT to cope with life, with fear, anger, abandonment or love. I did lift myself up off the couch and walk around the block, though my heart was in my sneakers. I picked up a plastic water bottle and glass Starbucks bottle along the way, to recycle. 

How to face the wrath of these dangerous thorns on someone's branches? These things can jab and stab, stopping us from reaching and enjoying the gift of flowers, the blooms that other parents may take for granted. Maybe they see roses, a flush of youth in their daughters' cheeks instead of too much drugstore blush and the rise of fury.

Diseases and fungus can prevent the rosebush itself from blooming. The leaves might get spotted and lacy, from mites or another illness, things that consume its beauty. The rosebush might die. We plant it in the sun, water when needed, fertilize sometimes and try our best to protect it from pests, but in the end, a rosebush is a present on loan from the lords of nature and life and we may not be able to save it. Radical acceptance.

***

Dan is supposed to drive me in two hours, at 7 p.m., to Sis's in Connecticut so she and I can leave in the morning for a long-planned trip to the Cape with friends Meg and Greg from Vermont. 

But I am worried. All the worry in the world won't change a thing, my mother used to say. I guess I was a worrier as a young woman, since she left us for the heavens when I was 20.

I need to take a shower and shampoo my hair. I have to gather up the bath towels and sheets for the Cape house. I look upset, and I am.

To the one who watches from above, to God, or the goddess of the stars, or the power and beauty of the sea, or the fairies who fly over flowers, please, show me the next right thing to do. This pain is raw and deep. I am one person, and I try very hard.

I have to get in the shower now. I pray I won't get overwhelmed with worry. I will pray and I will trust.

Thank you for listening.

I wanted to write a post about my four-day solo visit to Florida to see our Figgy last Saturday through Tuesday, but I didn't get around to it. Here is a photo of us from Monday 

at a beach on Amelia Island. It was a lovely time 

to bond and immerse ourselves in birdwatching and nature.

Dysfunctional Families--and Fantasy Tablescapes

Photo courtesy of Joshua Reddekopp via Unsplash.

“A dysfunctional family is any family with more than one person in it.” 

― Mary Karr, The Liars' Club 

Gosh, I love that quote. And whenever things get rough, and I remember to remember that quote, it brings comfort and perspective.

Because despite the 

*quiet beauty (glowing candles, a Parisian one from Sis and pure beeswax pinecones from Meggy in Vermont)

*lasting faith (Christmas Mass in the little country church, the tiny nativity scenes I’ve had since girlhood, which I squirreled up to Maine in my Christmas stocking) 

*joy (playing “Reindeer Games” and Yankee Swap with so much laughter and love)

*family (sharing meals, walks, memories)

and 

*light (Figgy doing my makeup on Christmas Day, a red lip, a shadowed eye)

the ugly head of dysfunction still rises. 

I won’t go into specifics in this public space, just....between a teenager in love and on FaceTime many hours of the day, even if the boy is very nice, many hours in the car and small Airbnb apartment, finally asking her to please maybe go in the bathroom with her phone for a while and close the door? and a beautiful young woman returns home from the Florida coast to a complicated past and present, then drives in a car with us 450 miles to our family in Maine...

It’s not just youth, laughter, vulnerability, humor, talent, brains, rap songs, love for us (spilling over, or reluctant), sarcasm and wrapped gifts these young women bring.....it’s some troubles, too. For both. So if for a moment I got lulled by Yuletide hymns at church and little girls in velvet dresses, bringing back memories of my Figgy in that same country church, it’s these realities that bring me back, in a jarring way. 

Life is beautiful, and life is hard.

On the soft side, two links to tablescape stories I enjoyed writing. Have a good day. May we all tread lightly and keep our eyes open.

1. Forest-Themed Tablescapes

2. Holiday Tablescapes.

Wakeup Call: You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

Above: Picture these beautiful orange cups and saucers--echoing brilliant leaf colors in Lenox, Massachusetts--in generous latte sizes. I sat outside and nursed my cupful at Lenox Coffee, on Main Street.

I stole away to the Berkshire Mountains, a glorious range in Massachusetts, for two nights by myself.

It wasn’t really stealing or sneaking, because I let my family know. But it was a determined plan to get away alone  and nurture myself. 

I overpacked, as usual, with high hopes for doing my nails (nope) and reading from a stack of five books. Oh, the glory of road trips, no TSA inspections, just pile on the scarves and books and CPAP machine, no hassles.

I came looking for inner peace and perspective, and I found some. 

Was it in the meditation class at 5:30 p.m.? The facial, with steam on my face and a rich lip dip at the end? (I wanted to buy that lip salve, but I think the tiny jar was about $70 before tax. Still, I’m not dismissing it entirely. It felt so plump and pillowy,  and in the light of the boutique, the magical balm seemed to glisten with a hint of gold.) 

I planned not to talk about my consuming worries about Punch on this getaway. To stop getting lost in them. To stay in the present, in the moment. I did pretty well, though did talk to my longtime friend Candy, who lives not far from here, and this morning, to Jay and Anthony, two young men running the hotel’s front desk. It was quiet, and they were kind.

Sometimes it’s good to talk to strangers, who don’t know you and your story at home, Jay said.

Yes.

But I’ve found that in general, I overshare too much in life and I can’t afford to do that anymore because I lose myself and swim in worry. It is never too late to learn to be a better listener and less of a talker.

It's time to pack up, shower, lug the bags back to the car. I think I will try to visit "The Mount," Edith Wharton’s estate nearby, before heading home. The foliage is so pretty everywhere I turn.

Praying for peace and acceptance and the continued ability to shower every day, meditate, walk in nature, do my writing assignments and allot a few minutes for my makeup (concealer and mascara, a bit of foundation).

Practicing self-care helps soften our footprint in the world, so we are not so scared, reactionary, off-course. Steady as she goes.

Magic Carpet

Last night, I fell asleep on a carpet of leaves. On the comforting thought of yellow, gold, red and brown-sugar-colored shapes blanketing our small backyard. How can things at the end of their lifespan be so vibrant snd beautiful?

Sunrise in Sandwich

Above: My college roommate Meggy brought her husband, Greg, and her tripod from Vermont. I’m so glad she thought of rising to see the sunrise. 

Other things we/I did today:

• Snowy Owl Coffee Roasters with Meggy. I had world’s best latte. Yum, so good. I had been to the Snowy Owl in Brewster, but the one here in Sandwich is bigger and better.
• Breakfast in Dan’l Webster Inn with Meg, Greg, Skipper. The latter had hash, which she learned to order up here on the Cape from her friend Nikki, who learned it from our friend Elly. This hash was made with prime rib!
• Beautiful walk with M, G and S on the boardwalk over the water and around the historic homes. Loved it. Over one hour. Unplugged, fresh. Deep breaths, fill soul.
• After I dropped Skippy off in Yarmouth to see her year-round Cape friend, and Meg and Greg broke away to see their friends who moved up here, I drove to the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary. I stopped on the way at Mac’s Seafood Shack in Eastham and got kale salad and 1/4 pound of delicious steamed lobster with a little cup of melted butter. I asked where it was caught. It’s from Provincetown, the young man behind the counter said, in between shucking clams. Can’t get more local than that. It was indeed tender and sweet.
• Short walk at Wellfleet Bay. Quiet, calming, beautiful vista.
• Drove to Chatham to see “Spencer,” about Princess Diana. Heavy issues, no pun intended, but excellent. The food and fashion views and the thread of mystery, fascinating. The music, too. A real period piece.
• Came back and sat by fire in the inn lobby. Talked a long time to Ralph and Nancy, who were groundbreaking physicists and world travelers but now older and more limited. They had just eaten dinner in the tavern (prime rib for him, fresh tuna for her).
• Had long chat with Sis on phone.
• Tried to get on daily Zoom support group but couldn’t get into West Coast 9:30 p.m. meetings so figured that was a sign to take night off. Morning group tomorrow.
• Ready to rest!

Appalachian Trail & Have I Really Not Posted Since Wednesday?

Wow, that’s a stretch. I’ve tried to post daily since I started this blog (thanks to my friend Kim’s influence, since she blogged) in March 2010.

This was a trying week. 

But yesterday, we took a turn for the better.

Dan, Skipper and I drove to Lake Tiorati and hiked part of the Appalachian Trail.

Yes, we did. About an hour each way or maybe more to this little stone shelter we have been to before.

Dan and his brothers--separately, with their friends--all know that path. I believe John, Mike, Dave and Pat all walked it.

Skipper, above. She noticed a frog---just like her sister, Figgy, would.

I have to get to work on a writing deadline. But it was so cool to cross paths with:

• People sitting around a campfire, their three tents pitched nearby.
• A large family--Mom, Dad, boys, girls, dog--who had started the trail on Feb. 14 in Georgia and were still going. Wow.
• Two fellows who had walked from Harpers Ferry, West Virginia.
• One man who was setting up his tent after 6, when we were heading back to the car. He was on a four-day walk, and drove to the Trail from Great Barrington, Massachusetts.

Rocky underfoot. Keep your eyes on the road. Watch your step. Follow the trail markers (unless you are prepared to carve a new path). Stop, look up and enjoy the mountain view. Notice the frogs. Take a break. Eat a snack. Know your own strength.

All apply to life as we know it.

I’m thankful for Dan taking us on this hardscrabble path, and showing us the beauty. I think this is what he imagines Heaven will look like (though not entirely sure he believes in Heaven).

Note to self. Next time, use fanny pack, not cross-body handbag.