Kiss the Sweets Goodbye and Point Me Toward Tomorrow*

Note the side part with prized Goody barrette in my

fourth (third?) grade Saint Mary's School photo, circa 1971. 

Coaxed by my mother, I set my hair on pink sponge rollers the night before. 

The light blue, sparkly barrette matched the shiny silk dress 

(now faded in the photo), 

a hand-me-down from relatives in Connecticut.

Okay, enough. I've spent my life spinning fairy tales about sugar, and believing them. Sweets were special. They were magic. Enchanting. Not just euphoric, they added notes of beauty and style to a plain life, like that sparkly blue Goody barrette. It was from the grocery store, but it was a big deal to me. (As a mother, I took great pleasure on lunch breaks from Hearst browsing hair accessories for me or Figgy on Bergdorf Goodman's Beauty Level--I got her a slender black satin hairband with rhinestone bow. I would have done the same for Punch, but she is not a hair accessory type of girl.)

Spun-sugar stars in my youth included the Entenmann's chocolate chip loaf cake my New York City-born grandmother, Alice, got us at the Grand Union supermarket in Dumont. A gift. A Sunday, church-day treat. And the  soft Torrone nougat candies in little boxes that our Italian immigrant grandmother, Rose, sometimes brought us from the Bronx.

The treats were part of a better life, a privileged life. They were that one Christmas Eve with a glass plate of homemade cookies at Aunt Gloria's and Uncle Jim's down the block in Dumont, where my three pretty cousins (Annie, Cathy and Maria) lived. The magic of my Sweet Sixteen, a pink box-mix cake and pink icing made by my mother and shared with my friends at our dining room table with Quaker lace tablecloth. They were Stanley's Bake Shop in Bergenfield, a special 50th anniversary sheet cake with rich yellow buttercream roses and swags of frosting.  

I could go on and on and on. My fairy-tale cake walk. But that might fill a book.  

I.am.here.now. It is Sunday, October 26, 2025 at 3:24 p.m. and last night, at another lovely party held by our friends in Montclair, I consumed one sweet treat after another. Like Halloween tricks, they rose up and then vanished from my hands.

The clock ticked and I grew tired, having had a sad Friday night and a packed Saturday that began at 7:30 a.m. with cleaning (book group was coming), table setting, grocery shopping, coffee hour hosting, a meeting, flower getting, beauty salon, book group, phone interview for writing assignment, dishes and ending with the Halloween party. When I'm tired, I do reach for food to stay awake.

I think I have figured it out, at least for the moment. I love the hosts of these generous, spirited parties (themes include Super Bowl, summer garden, table games), the friends who attend, the chance to be out with Dan and sometimes even Punchy there. But so many love to bake (I do, too) and great bakeries abound. So first there is excellent food, often catered (last night, mac and cheese and pulled pork; excellent charcuterie boards; farmer's market focaccia). Even a bar, sometimes with bartender. And live jazz music!!!!

Last night I had:

• A Magnolia Bakery chocolate Halloween cupcake, dense and moist, thick yellow frosting cap.
• A serving from a dream-girl size glass bowl of peanut butter cream/Reese's/cake trifle.
• A big, soft ginger cookie.
• An Italian bakery double-decker cookie with jam sandwiched in between, chocolate dip, rainbow sprinkles (you know the ones).
• A small wedge of hostess J's homemade, tender olive oil citrus cake.
• And at the book group lunch here, since it was our Jeannie's bday, two slices of the flourless chocolate cake Karen made, with freshly whipped cream.

Hello? Yes, it's me. 

Am I out to kill myself? I am a sugar addict, and I can't seem to eat sweets in moderation. Yet the zero-tolerance approach may be too punitive? On New Year's Eve 2025, I planned not to eat the party desserts, told my hostess and looked away but by the time the ball dropped, a piece of the Smitten Kitchen chocolate cake found its way onto a plate in my hands.

I think that going forward, I will have to leave before the desserts come out. Physically remove myself, drive back home across town. Either that or get a big cup of coffee with cream and go in the pretty backyard? For many years, I filled my best crystal bowl with fresh red berries and brought a bowl of unsweetened whipped cream to these parties and to book group. (TBT, everyone loved that dessert.) But then I stopped.

What do you think?

Not surprisingly, I was exhausted and sluggish today, sugar hangover.

Now it's 9:17 p.m. Since 3:24, I took a walk with Dan (nice leaves), cut down the dead cone flowers, made sure Punch's friends headed back to their apartment in the Bronx, did a work email, ate dinner, loaded the dishes, played and failed at Wordle, started Spelling Bee.

My plan as of now is to again sidestep sweets, one day at a time. Look at the roads I have taken when allowing them in.

Scenes from the Goody barrette legacy:

Our daughter Figgy in 9th grade at Montclair High. Bergdorf hair accessory.

Figgy's senior portrait. I also got that pretty "White Christmas" style hairband at BG.

I forgot! I put my pearl bracelet around our Punchy's bun for her First Holy Communion. Her friend Nikki did the bun.

*Adapted from "What I Did for Love," a song from the musical A Chorus Line with music by Marvin Hamlisch and lyrics by Edward Kleban.

Our Town: Familiar Faces in the Resistance Crowd

I went to the Hands Off rally in Brookdale Park at noon Saturday. We've lived in Montclair for 34 years, since we got the keys to a two-bedroom apartment on Bellevue Avenue--so I shouldn't have been surprised to see people I knew personally in the crowd of 5,000 (estimate). It was a comfort and a joy to be with:

1. Moey. Well, she was standing next to me for two hours plus. She and Ted lived in Montclair because Ted did his medical residency here. We followed them, moving to town. Moey drove up from Montvale to protest.

2. Karen. My baking, gardening gal, singing book group friend. (Book friends Kate and Jeanne and Kate's sister, Sal, were there, too, but I didn't see them.)

3, 4. Chip and Mary. Neighbors.

5. Anne. Neighbor and friend.

6. Caroline. The lovely, pretty woman who ran Cafè Giotto on Church Street for years. That little storybook hideaway with Italian food was perfectly perfect (still exists under different management).

7, 8, 9, 10. My forever neighbor across the street, Amy, with her husband, Chris, and their adult sons Luca and Fabio.

11, 12. Sianne and Yannika, from our kids' soccer days in the park.

13. Lisa, effervescent neighbor who lived four houses up the block.

14. Beth, known for her cute neighborhood dog, Carter, and her husband, Howard, who is in Dan's rock band.

15, 16. Holly and her husband. When Figgy was a baby and I walked along Valley Road to catch the bus to work in NYC, Holly was walking in the other direction on Valley with her two boys and puppy, Chanel, to wait for the school bus. One mom home-based and one mom working in the city, both friendly and supportive. Sleek black Chanel jumped up on my black stockings, and Holly would call her to get down, but I didn't care. (I think Holly is from Texas, and also think she called the stockings "nylons.") I treasured being part of a community with parents, kids and pets and I don't think the pup ever snagged my stockings anyway. I love that Holly and her family were witnesses to my weekday mornings, and vice versa.

I recognized other faces in the crowd but could not place them from exactly where and when our paths had crossed. 

May today bring moments of joy for us all.

In Stowe, Slow Comforts

Stowe Community Church in this historic village. Meg and Greg belong to

the congregation and I will join them for Sunday morning service.

I drove up to visit Meg and Greg for a Friday to Monday trip. Dan has to work at a party tomorrow night in Manhattan, writing 60-Second Novels, and Ice Spice has school, so it's just me. I didn't sleep enough last night and the night before. I was tired and fought to keep my eyes open on part of the 7-hour drive. I didn't get an iced coffee when I had the chance (Starbucks) and then the desperate coffee detour I took on an exit off Route 91 North led me to a small supermarket where the only coffee was in tiramisu or ice cream, no bottled cold brew or hot java, not even a coffee-flavored chocolate bar. I got an extreme dark bar and that caffeine seemed to kick in.

Meg treated us to dinner at the Green Mountain Inn, a fixture on Main Street in Stowe since 1833. It was a generous splurge. I had an ample slice of old-fashioned, fork-tender, perfectly seasoned prime rib au jus with baked potato and veg. Little basket of warm bread with foil-wrapped butter pats. Hot apple cider.

Slow comforts. Sitting here in the living room talking. Finally seeing, in real time, the beautiful new desk Meg showed me on FaceTime. Presenting the royal house cat, Sami, with a gift of little stuffed toy mice. Being grateful for old friends. Meg and I met at age 18, first night of college.

Good night from a nurturing place under beautiful skies and mountain peaks. #gratitude 

The Belles of Saint Mary's

Saint Mary's School friends, clockwise from left: 

Tish, Maureen (Moey), Debbie, Lorraine and me.

On Tuesday night, I met four close girlhood friends for a long dinner. We originally spotted each other at Saint Mary's School in Dumont in the late 1960s*/early 1970s. 

We met last week at an Applebee's in Clark, New Jersey, midway between us. We knew they wouldn't rush us out. The five of us had not been together in at least 20 years. Some of us had stayed close and some had drifted away from our core, for one reason or another. Some we saw irregularly, at our parents' funerals in Saint Mary's Church, if we even knew about them.

The five of us grew up in a small, safe Bergen County town. Our Dads, who loved us loyally, did various work, from New York City bus drivers (Dumont was a bedroom community, with many residents relocating from NYC but still working there) to suburban white-collar corporate to craftsman. Lorraine's Dad, a sweet man with a thick Italian accent, was a shoe cobbler in Englewood. He sometimes fixed my shoes, too. 

We were raised in a working class town but had no notion of that. Our Catholic parents stayed married, for better or worse, in good times and bad, had parties for our First Communions, got new kitchen tables, refrigerators and cars when possible and always put food on our tables. Color TVs first appeared in living rooms in our girlhood.

Our mothers, who shaped us as much or more than our Dads did--they stayed home some or all of the time. Wait, no. Moey's mother went to work in a law office and then had important positions in medical offices. Debbie's mother later took a job at the bus line company in Bergenfield. After a while, Tish's mom would go to work as a bookkeeper. My mother, a Manhattan girl who left her young career as a chemist when she had her first baby, volunteered (Girl Scouts for Sis), then eventually worked part-time in the Saint Mary's School library and occasionally "collating" at some paper company in Dumont. She joined squads of homemakers for sporadic consumer product testing at Lever Brothers in Englewood Cliffs (now merged into giant Unilever). Anne loved B. Altman & Company, the legendary Fifth Avenue store, and worked at our nearby Ridgewood branch (in the "Fashion Center") at least one holiday season.

Whether they worked outside the home or not, our mothers were present. Moey reminded us Tuesday about Debbie's mother hosting us for Friday night dance parties ("My Boyfriend's Back"). Lorraine's mom was devoted to her family. She made Sunday family dinners with aunts, uncles and cousins. She baked Italian cookies by the dozen for Christmas Eve, even homemade pizza (a magical treat I once had in their Richard Drive kitchen). Tish's mom was loving and dedicated and the first woman I saw exercising regularly, on evening walks with her husband. 

And Moey's mom, Muriel/Mrs. C. Well--I idolized and still love her. She was kind, on-trend, smart, stylish, perceptive, can-do, balancing work and family life. (Moey has three younger brothers.) Modern; she was modern. She sometimes bought Moey CoverGirl eye shadow palettes! I was lucky enough to consider her a second mother, especially after my Mom crossed the rose-trellised bridge (alas, roses have thorns, death is not pretty). Muriel noticed us. She saw us. She was closer in age to us. (She had Moey in her early 20s. My mother had me at 36.) She cared. So did Mr. C. I have written about Muriel in the past.

We all had siblings. Lor, Maur, Tish and I with three each. Lor and I were the youngest. Maur and Tish were the eldest. Debbie had a little brother. Lor's Italian mother never drove, walked briskly in and out of town, to the grocery store and back. Always in a skirt and stockings, no pants.

Three of us attended Saint Mary's from the get-go, first grade. Debbie and Tish transferred from other schools later.  

We were the eighth grade graduating class of 1975. The President was Gerald Ford, and I had to look that up. I was thinking maybe Jimmy Carter. Ford was a short blip. But how could I forget how excited our young teachers were, knocking on classroom doors to pull one another out and whisper, Agnew resigned! in October 1973, when we were in seventh grade.

We five hold so many collective memories, it's hard to know where to start. Our figurative, pearl-encrusted treasure chest, if pried open, would reveal the navy, crisscross snap neckties we wore with our white blouses, plaid skirts and navy vests; a stray, mandatory knee sock; a worn paperback copy of scandalous 1984 read in Mr. Vafier's sixth grade class; a dried yellow giant pompom mum from the May procession, that lesson in pageantry and beauty in our otherwise plain sphere. Plain if you didn't really search for flowers and frills--if you didn't count the crown most every Mary statue wore or her lovely pale blue robe, the principal's glamorous strawberry blonde hair or petite teacher Mrs. Murphy's chic pixie cut, makeup and clothing.

We lived for school picture day, because we could wear clothes that were not our uniforms (in fifth grade, I had a yellow polyester pantsuit and long wavy hair, feeling like Jan Brady). We loved the Christmas Fair, a whole weekend in the school gym with a revolving tabletop Timex watch display (I'm not sure how you won one), a bake sale table, a crafts table, the white elephant booth (which was like a big tag sale, and Dad found electric mixers and other things there). I scanned the preowned stuff for unopened bottles of perfume or castoff jewelry.

We were girls together. Girls. Girls who brought lunches from home (sometimes Lorraine had leftover eggplant parmigiana, Moey scored Cheez Doodles and little wrapped candies or treats). I didn't like my lunches much. Liverwurst or tuna salad on cocktail rye, a whole big orange, which did not go down easy with those tiny cartons of milk. 

We were girls who had crushes. Sometimes, a pimple or two (me, wishing my mother would buy Noxzema or Bonne Bell 10-0-6 lotion or even Lip Smackers). Girls who knew girls who were mean. Girls who could be mean ourselves, though rarely? I cringe when I remember my own mean incidents. Girls who tried our best to be loyal and true to each other, within our girl capabilities, in our co-ed school (boys named Billy, Ron, Tom, Robert, Raymond, Kevin) and out at recess in the parking lot, near the stone grotto that held a statue of the Blessed Virgin.

I could write forever about these years, so much to recall and reconsider from this sixty-something vantage point, but for now, I think I better stop. We were shoulder to shoulder in Saint Mary's, through strict rules imposed by nuns (they left by third grade, needed elsewhere), through our first periods, Girl Scouts, birthday parties. Deaths of two of our grandmothers. We reveled in and sometimes toughed out public high school together, went to the roller rink, babysat, had our first kisses, first jobs, played sports (cross-country, track and for Lorraine, varsity cheerleading). We learned to drive. Tish was a gifted Irish dancer all through the years. We were bridesmaids in each other's weddings, wearing the fanciest dresses we ever owned, in peach, emerald green, hot pink. 

We now hope to meet at least yearly. Moey and I also treasure Fritch (Susan), another Saint Mary's friend who was absent. She lives in Florida now.

It was buoying to be together, to laugh and remember. To trust one another over artichoke dip and beverages and dinner with stories, the stories of our lives.

Good night. To be continued. I think I may have repeated the word pretty too many times, also. ;)

*Debbie and I were Brownies together in second grade (1968/1969), and fondly remember the Father-Daughter Square Dance with our Dads in the basement at Saint Mary's.

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.

Weather Wrinkles Delay Girls’ Trip Flight

Eight of us are converging in Asheville, North Carolina for a four-night trip.   

Six of us are there but Nancy and I have been stranded in Newark Airport since 2:30 p.m. yesterday. Her connecting flight from Maine was tight anyway and then delayed. I waited with her for the next flight to Asheville Airport and our other two friends flew on down. We were booked onto a 7:15 p.m. that was changed to 9:45 p.m. and then cancelled due to stormy weather. Good thing we get along. :)

We are.at an airport area hotel now waiting a dog’s age to check in. The clock struck 12 two min ago.

We are on standby for afternoon seats tomorrow, 2:15 p.m. flight. This is crazy.

Hot, then drizzly, bright green knotted sundress strap slipping uncomfortably while we schlepped rollies and bags around the airport to find a customer service kiosk, an agent, anything. 

It’s a long story. But we crossed paths w travelers coming from or going to Portugal, Greece, Cincinnati and what we guessed was Bermuda, based on his tropical shirt.

It was early rise today at 6:45 to dry my delicate laundry and finish packing. I can’t wait to get some rest.

Good night.

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.

Caped Wonders

We did a lot today, but this is dinner at Mac's in Wellfleet with Meg and Greg, 6:17 p.m.

I used to pack up my laptop and sit in my car in the dark, alone, in front of Ben & Jerry's or Dunkin' Donuts in North Eastham, near the Post Office, to get an internet signal and write a blog post every night on the Cape. Now I know how to set up a personal hotspot in the low-tech house using my iPhone and my MacBook. I can stay home and write.  

But I'm older now, and a good night's sleep is not just a requirement, but a treasured luxury. So I won't do long blog posts late at night when I should be dozing and dreaming.

We have kept busy, four of us in the house, all adults. It's really fun. For example, today:

• Beach and lighthouse gazing. Up early, drive to Nauset Light Beach on the National Seashore about 8:30 (before it officially opens in the morning, at least now, and a ranger checks you in at the booth, and you pay or show your pass) so that we can bring in Sis's puppy, Galena. In beach season, dogs can only go before or after closing (to lifeguard-protected areas).
• Back for breakfast. Greg made eggs and whole-grain toast, I had high-protein Bob's Red Mill oatmeal with berries. And lots of good hot coffee was poured. Meggy brought some java from Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co. in Waterbury. We sat around the table and talked and laughed, and planned what we really want to do before we head home Friday morning. Our lists included outdoor showers (Sis and me), birdwatching (all of us nature nerds), Nauset Beach to see seals, bike path, etc.
• Showers. I love how quickly you dry off in that fresh air outside.
• North Eastham Post Office. My mother loved it and so do I. I mailed something to my brother Will and will mail a postcard from there, too, probably to Figgy in her apartment. If those P.O. walls could talk...think of the decades and decades, the homemade fudge and Girl Scout Cookies sent to Vietnam, maybe? IDK. To soldiers in World War II? The care packages in padded envelopes that my friend and I mailed to our girls at Frost Valley YMCA camp. When Punchy was a baby, I sent out invitations to Dan's surprise 50th bday party from the North Eastham P.O. 
• Idle Times Bike Shop. We checked the rental prices ($30 from 9 a.m. one day until 5 p.m. the next day). I hope weather and time cooperate tomorrow.
• Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary! Ah yes, back to my favorite spot on earth. I think we were padding along the soft sand trails from about 1:45 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. Green Heron, baby Baltimore Orioles in nest, giant green frogs in pond, birdsong, fiddler crabs, and memories of scrubby orange foxes, a muskrat, Snowy Egrets and tiny Fowler's Toads seen with my family when Dan and I and our girls (especially Figgy in tow), were much younger. The breeze, that beautiful breeze. Also, quick sweep of the gift shop to check the edit. No dogs allowed at the Audubon, because they would disturb the delicate sanctuary balance. So Sis didn't join us today but she will tomorrow (sans Galena) at Coast Guard Beach for Seals & Sharks walk and Friday for Early Bird Walk 8 to 10 a.m. at the Sanctuary.
• Mac's on the Pier in Wellfleet. Known for its fried whole belly clams and Wellfleet oysters and scallops, we beelined there because Greg likes to get fried clams once each Cape Cod trip. (So does Dan, generally, but he is home working and supervising Punchy who has school, God bless him.) Meggy had a lobster roll and I had famous Wellfleet oysters, lightly breaded and fried, not heavily battered. Plump, tender and sweet.
• Check in with Figgy and Punch. The former took the latter and her friend out for sushi in Montclair. That was nice. I asked Fig to check in tonight, because Dan was hired to write 60-Sec Novels at a party near Times Square, NYC. It's 11:27 p.m. and I hope he is back home by now.
• Hot Chocolate Sparrow. I planned my one ice cream/main treat of the trip--an ice cream cone dipped in the hot melted chocolate the Sparrow only offers in the summer months. I haven't gotten coffee there yet, but I def plan to by the car ride home, if Sis doesn't mind stopping. Peeked through the glass window to see a young woman tempering chocolate. Enjoyed seeing chocolate seashells, dogs, mice, cats, cell phones, most everything.
• Sunset at Great Pond with Sis and Galena. So beautiful. The sky looks almost bruised with colors but no, not bruised, just streaked with rainbow sherbet strokes over placid water. So pretty.

Thinking of Dad a lot up here, and Figgy, Dan and Punch, and our close friends and their three kids. Memories of coyotes, night fires on the beach, stars, ranger-led walks, my mother and the three weeks we spent here that first summer in 1980. (She died in May 1981.) I see my parents and their hopes and dreams all through the house. Their generosity, their gift. Will and Kelly say they are selling the house pronto. I can't yet fully face that and mourn. The Cape is in me, and I will be back, either off-season in hotels, when rates dip, or Airbnbs, etc. 

Good night. 

Must Go to Bed

I procrastinated so long that I had to write an article for a couple of hours this Friday night. 

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.

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.

Good night.

Memory Lane with Marilynn

Seeing those quilts in Amish Country yesterday brought back memories of my 10 years working at Good Housekeeping Magazine, on the fifth floor of the venerable Hearst Building. 

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).

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. :)

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. 

Marilynn donated platelets at the blood donor center, and inspired me to do that eventually, too.

She was the first person I knew who had Hermès scarves, which 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.

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.

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.

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 Woman's Day, 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.

Good night.

Amish Country, Another World

I bought this book (look at the cover photo!) at 

The Quilt Shop at Miller's, which my friends and I visited today. 

It is stocked with quilts big and small

hand-stitched by a total of about 30 women in the local Amish community.

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.) 

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. 

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. 

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.

I did not spy any groups of girls playing or jumping, letting out pent-up energy, bouncing.

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.

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.

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.

At the shops by Miller's Smorgasboard (since 1929), 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. 

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. 

I also drew her with young Fig on Nantucket or Martha's Vineyard when we were waiting for a restaurant order with Dan. Draw the lady, 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.

I want to watch the 1985 movie "Witness" again, starring Kelly McGinnis (as an Amish woman) and Harrison Ford.

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.

Good night.

*Per nytimes.com: 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 Young Center for Anabaptist and Pietist Studies at Elizabethtown College in Elizabethtown, Pa. 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, it said.....In 2019, three Amish children died in Michigan after a car plowed into the back of their horse-drawn buggy, underscoring an all-too-common danger faced by the Amish, who reject automobiles and other modern technology.

Good Night from Pennsylvania Amish Country

                                             Ohio Amish CountryPhotograph by Mary Timman  fineartamerica.com                           

 

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.

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.

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.

Good night from a place where electricity is often shunned (but not in this Airbnb).

Link to photo above here.

Postcard to Self

Cap't Cass Seafood, Rock Harbor, Orleans. It closed during the pandemic; a new owner is remodeling it. Can't wait to get another clam roll. Photo by Meggy. Check capecodchronicle.com for "New Owner Eyes Spring Reopening For Cap’t Cass Restaurant."

The view from Salt Pond Visitor Center terrace. A tonic.

With Meggy at the Audubon.

Ornithologist James at the 8:30 a.m. bird banding program.

Highland Light, Truro. Photo by Meg.

Dear Present and Future Alice,

You had a great time this week. You drove to the Cape with Sis in her Connecticut car. As the promised land came closer, you looked for cranberry bogs to the right, on Route 6 East. Each mile driven was another measure away from drama and fear over teen struggles. You filled your lungs, unclenched your heart and breathed. Dan was good to hold down the fort for five days; school was in session.

Meg and Greg came from Vermont. You all took so many walks. You had two dinners at home (Meg made jambalaya and Sis, chicken with lemon, shallots and kale) and ate two dinners out. You enjoyed calm companionship and conversation.

You put your feet in the sea, let the water swirl around. You stood tall. Your gaze held steady on the horizon. You picked up a rock tumbled by the waves and a broken clam shell, souvenirs. Broken shells are better because they are real, like imperfect life. Jagged maybe, but still beautiful.

The pink and white salt spray roses smelled sweet. How resilient they are, how plucky. Blooming by the rugged sea, thriving by saltwater, churning and rough. Honeysuckle perfumed the air on the paths. You saw old touchstones from childhood. Coast Guard Beach. Salt Pond Visitor Center, with that hidden, unchanged museum. Scrimshaw and a whaling captain's top hat, recordings of Wampanoag stories, an empty wooden cradle, a primitive bicycle. Memories of Cape Codders gone by.

Now, home. You can't pour from an empty cup, the young DBT therapist, E., said this morning before starting a telehealth appointment with Punch. You had mentioned your time away, and E. had approved.

The bathroom mirror. You looked in the bathroom mirror up there on the Cape, where you have sought the truth and judged your beauty since age 19, when the house was new. Then, no makeup. Now, mandatory concealer and brow pencil. Mascara. Then, longer hair. Now, shorter, and colored. Skin crinkles. It's okay. It's all okay. The secret to beauty is accepting yourself.

You saw yourself there as a young mother and wife, with Dan and Figgy. All the things you did with them. Your short white nightgown with thin straps and scattered flowers, you turning the faucet, adding the bubbles, filling the tub for Fig so she could drift to sleep clean and fresh. Then Punch as a restless baby, never tired. Dad, of course. Friends and their children.

Already, less than 24 hours back home, the stress meter is up. Problems don't vanish. You're not saying that out of self-pity, or for sympathy, only out of self-truth. But you do not have to amp up the stress.

Remember your cup. Remember to fill it. 

Love, Alice, age 62

Selfie.

Ranger-led lecture on lobsters.

Meggy, dear friend and roommate from Douglass College, with her camera.

Sis looks good in that hat!

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.

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!

Such Luxury of Time

I'm so happy my friend Anne and I took this girls' trip. I qualify this Anne as my friend because, well, IDK, but my Mom spelled her name Anne and Figgy's real name is Anne.

We spent about $125 each per night ($245 each, total), counting taxes and fees, for this Airbnb stay at the Rugosa Guest House in Eastham. I would highly recommend this place. In season, of course, the rates for this spacious suite would be higher. It includes two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a deep tub with water jets and a small deck with table and chairs. 

In early October, I received a press email from Gayle Conran of ConranPR regarding the "Annual Monumental Yard Sale" in Provincetown this weekend. Anne loves yard sales. I knew she would literally drive to the end of the earth to get to this one, and I was right. Ptown is where the land meets the sea.

Fun today:

• A morning shower with my Twilly d'Hermes Body Shower Cream.
• Coming across Sarah Kain Dresses on Commercial Street in Ptown! The designer upcycles fabrics...I bought a beautiful scarf (red velvet one side, mauve fabric the other, with fringe trim) and a dress she sewed from vintage denim.
• Good coffee.
• Pretty views.
• Nap.
• Walk along beach in Provincetown.
• Exploring the Jewelry Studio of Wellfleet. where two sisters polish their craft. Gorgeous silver and gold, sea glass, turquoise, miniature Wellfleet oyster charms. Browsing, just browsing.
• Checking out every T-shirt on God's green earth so Anne could get some for her husband and kids (and one for herself, which she loves, a Mac's Seafood one with a mask on the fish.) I didn't mind a bit. No rush, pure fun. Where Anne seeks out bargains and stylish tees, I seek out velvet scarves and vintage dresses.
• Chose cute gift for Figgy! at Utilities, a kitchen/home shop I will definitely revisit!!!!!!!!
• Steamed Chinese food for dinner. Lots of vegs.
• Continued chatfest with Anne.
• Lovely audio text from Punchy! Lovely calls and texts from Dan, Figgy, Sis. Even when we stray from home, it's nice to be grounded.

Good night. We head home tomorrow at noon. But Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary before that, and last stop at Hot Chocolate Sparrow!!!

Religious Strife

 Letter 3/Dear Skipper: I Say a Little Prayer for You

 TCOY

1. Walked around block with Sug.
2. Talked to Lorraine, my close friend since fifth or sixth grade. 
3. Hot bath with lots of frothy bubbles.
4. Working on essay, hope it gets accepted for published collection.
5. Healthy foods: Veg soup with chicken; cottage cheese with berries and wheat germ; Ezekiel English muffin; banana; Brussels sprouts.

Good night.

A Seed of Strength & Promise of Beauty

I am blessed with many good people in my life. Today, I realized how blessed I am to have a certain friend who exhibits strength, clarity and wisdom. I am so grateful.

Good night.

Lovely Book Group

Karen hosted our book group at 5 pm; five of us were there. Two couldn’t make it.

Karen is a gardener by trade and she and her husband, Keith, have a beautiful backyard. So tranquil and green, with flowers and candles. They set up lounge and regular chairs at a distance in a circle. Icy cold bottles of vino were served and Karen made mixed berry crisp with homemade peach ice cream (!) and freshly whipped cream.

Since I’m skirting sugar, I had icy seltzer, a little rich cheese, hummus, raw vegs and some tortilla chips.

We talked about how horrifying it was to think of the black women Toni Morrison wrote about in Song of Solomon. How (this was 1931) they were not able to give birth in the whites-only hospital, only on its steps. (I know this is a novel, but assume this ugliness is based in historical truth.) There are no words to effectively express how unjust and cruel that was. How humiliating. And unsafe. How exposed those women must have felt, and how frightened.

Then that led us to talking about the higher rate of birth complications and low birth weights among black women still, and then about having babies as older moms--two of us were 40 (not me, though I tried that).

And on and on, from vital issues to baking tips...how we hope our daughters will know not to wait too long for babies, the horror of what is happening in Kenosha, Wisconsin--and the berry blend Karen likes best for crisps (frozen mixed berries from Costco, delivered during this time of COVID-19).

Good night.