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.

New York Is Our Playground for Movies & Meals

Photo from NY Times review of the Irish documentary"Housewife of the Year," playing in the Village.

Illustration by Conor Merriman/Juno Films, Inc. 2025.

That glittery city, that gritty city. Its frissons of energy give our batteries a jolt. Its hard-boiled love runs deep. New Yorkers may seem to keep to themselves, but lose your pearl necklace walking around at lunch as a young woman or have your handbag stolen as the subway doors close, and watch people step up and step in.

Dan and I were young writers on those sidewalks, winding up and down streets and across avenues, chasing our dreams, wearing down the heels of our shoes. We were young believers, newlyweds, parents. We looked up to people--our editors, our writing and reporting peers and our idols (Tom Wolfe, Mary Cantwell, Helen Thomas), our parents, our friends, our siblings. (We still do.) We marveled at the city's gifts, free for the taking. The skyline. The Empire State Building. The Flatiron Building. The Village. The arch at Washington Square Park. Hot bagels, F train rides, Central Park, the day the circus came to town.

We are not young now, but if we somehow live until 95, then we are only about 2/3 through life. Time enough to chase more dreams. 

Lately, we did a couple of NYC firsts.

Saturday-night movie and late supper in the Village. Nothing on our many local NJ movie screens interested me this weekend. Dan, my entertainment concierge, discovered "Housewife of the Year" playing at Quad Cinema on West 13th Street. It's a documentary about a televised competition that aired in Ireland from 1969 to 1995. Check this NY Times review Dan found. I loved the film. The hairdos, dresses, skirts, shoes, stockings and jewelry the contestants wore; the glimpse at the husbands, how each couple met; the roles women were expected to play; the back stories; the talents; the toothy grins; the charming, wry TV host, Gay Byrne; the number of children each lady had (one with 13!!!!); and the dinners they made to woo the judges (roast lamb, fancy potatoes, custards, etc.). The way women's roles slowly changed with reproductive rights. The Catholic Church's strong clench, and slow release, on family choices. 

Surprise, the young, award-winning Irish director, Ciaran Cassidy, was there afterward, to field questions. So cool. I felt like a student again--and we were right near The New School, where we had gotten reacquainted in an evening writing class and started dating. 

Then we walked across the street to Da Andrea, a bustling Italian restaurant, for 9:30 dinner. We sat at the curved end of the small bar and Nelson took us in, between manning the cocktail shaker and pouring the wines. Warm, tender bread with olive oil, spinach ravioli stuffed with truffle mushroom and fluffy ricotta, then the perfect period at the end of the sentence, my latte and Dan's baby-size espresso with two tiny biscotti, a parting gift we ate with relish. Nelson poured us a glass of the restaurant's homemade limoncello, delicious, before we slipped out into the night. We plan to return to Andrea.

Dinner at The Waverly Inn! I'd been curious for years about this exclusive West Village hideaway co-owned by Graydon Carter of Vanity Fair editor fame. We wanted a nice place for Monday dinner on President's Day Weekend, to celebrate our February 17 wedding anniversary (34 years). The Waverly had a table at 5 or 9 p.m., so we went early. The truffled macaroni and cheese was well over $100, but other entrees were in reach. 

Looming larger than life: Legendary magazine editor Graydon Carter. 

Photo by Sasha Maslov for The New York Times.

The dinner opener delivered without question to your table, simple circle biscuits served warm with a ramekin of butter. Perfection. Recipe wanted. The Iceberg Wedge Salad was very nice with the crispy bacon on the side, since Dan is a vegetarian. I wouldn't rave about the rest of the food we had, but the ambiance--that provided the golden nourishment. This menu item caught my eye, for perspective: Aged Beef Tomahawk Rib Chop for Two, Black Truffle Butter, Choice of Two Sides 265. Yes, $265.

Roaring fireplaces, prominent mantels, a famous mural, cocktails, good people-watching. We were in close quarters with the in crowd. We had all ducked in from the cold, descending the stairs to an historic space. I won't lie, I did feel a little "less than," and that's not a great feeling. Even at the Plaza, Gramercy Tavern, the Four Seasons (only there once for Saturday night coffee and dessert, wandered in with Dan), Le Cirque, I didn't feel that way. Was that a gift of youth, that blending in and looking good? Does smooth skin and a svelte shape mean acceptance?

Anyway, next time, I will wear better shoes to a place run by the king of vanity publishing and Oscar fêtes. But one of my black suede Italian pumps went missing in my closet. (As a new college grad, I heard that Condé Nast interviewers look right at your footwear to evaluate style and substance. And the pretty raven-haired HR person did just that.) Mr. Carter lives a stone's throw away, so walking that neighborhood felt important. Two of his beloved vintage cars were (carefully) parked along Bank Street.

It was fun to get out of the suburbs. Holding a key to the city means we can always get a welcome jolt. 

Good night.

Mrs. List

I hope I have time to make the Bliss Balls using Ground Up nut butter from Portland. I got finely chopped walnuts and pecans for the recipe at Stop & Shop last night. 

Years ago, I nicknamed Dan "Mr. List" because he would often jot down daily plans (for life and work) in the morning, putting pen to paper. He still does.

For today, I would like to be Mrs. List, not my strong suit lately. But today Dan is driving back from almost a week in Maine. His mother, Mary, 94, has been failing. When I'm away, he tries to make it his business to have the house looking tidy when I return. Sometimes that means "a lick and promise," a phrase my mother used for doing something quickly but not thoroughly. As in, Dan might sling a sinkful of dishes into the dishwasher but since they sat too long, they emerge still dirty.

Here is my list for today, starting at 9:40 a.m. this foggy Wednesday morning. Well, it is already 9:58 a.m.. I just watched an 11 min 24 sec video of President Biden on the Seth Meyers show. It was good. But that kind of thing, the time stealing, can happen 24/7 if you let it when based at home.

• Write and publish this blog post.
• Text N, angel friend.
• Eat healthy breakfast. Oatmeal with "clean" nut butter and baked apple, milk and a little light cream. 
• Take meds.
• Write Florida postcard to Sis and put in mail basket for pickup.
• NY Times word games on laptop. Another time eater, but I love them.
• Do dishes.
• Shower/shampoo.
• Put on lemon print dress, pantyhose, makeup and earrings. Power dressing at home vs. sleepwear all day.
• Walk around the block once.
• Fold loads of clean wash.
• Make bed. (Can't yet, because clean wash piled on it.)
• Put in one load of wash.
• Write up aspire website Q & A with Inca, the young architect of a beautiful dwelling in Mexico City.
• Contemplate essay writing; where to try and sell one. 
• Have healthy lunch. Rotisserie chicken, yam, 2 t butter, S & P, roasted red peppers with a little of Figgy's delicious cilantro/tahini dressing. (Figgy moving into a NJ apt with her friend at the end of March. Will miss many good things about her, will not miss the rough things.)
• Make cocoa Bliss Balls (energy balls) from the new Nut Butter cookbook I love. The Ground Up company in Portland, Oregon provides job training for women overcoming adversity. They make wonderful nut butters (hazelnut, espresso, snickerdoodle etc) with no added sugar.
• Have Punch help me bring three Christmas bins from Dan's office up to attic?
• Make simple dinner since Dan should be home by about 6 p.m. Hmmm.....prepared mac and cheese, breaded flounder, tartar sauce, steamed broccoli, rolls and butter.

That's it for now. IDK if I can do it all. Yesterday evening, I Swiffered the bathroom floor and ceiling (yes), cleaned litter box, emptied garbage, put kitchen compost out. 

4:24 p.m. update: Another sluggish day. Did I tell you I almost broke my nose last Thursday when I face-planted on the wood floor, tripping over my open, unpacked Florida suitcase in the living room? Big pain, blood, hot tears and bruising, could barely get up....so I have been healing from that trauma, too. Napping etc. Yesterday I wore sunglasses at supermarket with Figgy (7 p.m.) You look weird, Mom, Figgy said, making me laugh.

I should start writing a story or a book, an ongoing project. Sad to say, I ate in a scattered way between breakfast and lunch and became tired, lulled to sleep, and took a long nap. Didn't have the planned lunch. I still haven't showered, but I will, or taken a walk, which I probably won't. Or put on my dress. Or done my writing work. Still cleaning in my sleepwear. Will change! Dan changed ETA to 7 p.m. so that gave me the cushion of extra time. I would like to switch up my daily routine. On my second mug of coffee with oat milk and light cream. Tall ice waters should help energize me; filling one now.

Saturday Night Fashion Dash Down Madison Avenue

             Window shopping afforded a glimpse of cuddly blush mittens at Max Mara.

On Saturday night, Dan and I drove into NYC to see a short drone show over the treetops near Bethesda Fountain in Central Park--magical waves of birdlike flickers in pretty color patterns. (I hope the real migrating birds were not too disturbed. Birders were worried.) Free, totally free, but for the cost of a Lincoln Tunnel toll and a couple dollars to park by meter on Madison Avenue.

The park was packed--parents, children (“Hold onto Daddy’s hand, Tyler”), dogs, lovers, college kids, people with foreign accents, girl groups, a man with his motorcycle. It was fun, though I felt claustrophobic.

We then tried to get into Bemelmans Bar, a legendary spot in The Carlyle Hotel on Madison at 75th Street. What were we thinking? Drinks and bites at the bar. But we found a ticketed jazz show, and beautiful young women lined up to get in. A doorman in a hat. Upper East Side socialites. Without looking, I detected wafts of signature, expensive perfume in the air and heard youthful voices. Looking, I saw high heels; born-with, dewy skin; designer clothing. Dan in blue jeans, me wearing sneakers with my skirt? Um, no. Absolutely no. Sometimes we fit in, sometimes we don’t. Oh well. We are hopeful and daring. Anyway, we can dress up and make a dinner reservation one day.

We ended up getting drinks at The Mark nearby. And then we walked back to our car on 65th and Madison. I loved the window shopping under the moonlight. The stores were closed, it was near 10 p.m. 

Vera Wang. Max Mara. Christian Louboutin. (I couldn't get Dan to even stop and appreciate a peek at the shoes.) Valentino. Precious children’s clothing shops, with tiny smocked dresses. Grandmothers with deep purses must buy those to ship to L.A. Colors through the looking glasses, colors for adults: blush, embellished navy for evening wear and at V, classic black with white in an alluring take on the little black dress.

Valentino short Crepe Couture Black Dress with white shoulder bows. Made in Italy from virgin wool and silk, with concealed back zipper. In my dreams, if I were size 0 to 10, at least 30 years younger and had $5,500 in fashion lettuce and the life to match. (Size 0 already out of stock.) Let's see, that lettuce covers our mortgage, heating oil, electric, groceries, phones and cable, IRS payment plan, doctor and RX co-pays, health insurance, gasoline, car repairs, some money we owe Sis and.....

The style and shopping energy of Madison Avenue sets a very high bar, and I like that.

Good night.

Capers: A Note from North Eastham

Good morning from Cape Cod.

It is 10:38 a.m. on Monday and Dan and I plan to leave the house by noon. Already ran the dishwasher, folded the red plaid blankets, put the insulated Lilly Pulitzer cooler bag in the freezer so it's ready for our fridge unpack and the journey back to NJ.

I want to do a chart HERE vs. THERE but don't have time to format it since we have a lot more scuttling around to do--spritzing and spraying, sweeping and vacuuming.

The chart would have illustrated HERE joys like renting bikes from Idle Times Bike Shop in Eastham and THERE worries like Skipper refusing to get up for school while Figgy is holding down the fort. Or other stresses. Skip didn't want to come with us, and her school summer program runs through tomorrow anyway, and Figgy is working.

Dan and I have been gone four nights. 

• We biked (about six miles one way) on the bike path to the Hot Chocolate Sparrow. We were superhot under those helmets when we arrived. We each had our one ice cream of the trip. I got sugar-free coffee flavor with the Sparrow's exceptional chocolate dip--that melty dark coating that hardens on contact--only available in the summer. Dan got a soft-serve vanilla cone with the dip darkening the swirls and swoops.
• I did the 8 a.m. to 10 a.m. Early Bird Walk program at the Audubon Friday morning. L.O.V.E.D. it. Ospreys, snowy egrets, purple martin, heron, turkeys, little shore birds. Also bullfrogs, green frogs ("like Kermit," a Boston walker said), and fiddler crabs. Great group of people and young leader.
• We had our bike rentals for 24 hours ($30 each). Yesterday we pedaled to Nauset Light Beach. Dan ran into the sea (61 degrees water temp).
• Dinner last night at Mac's on the Wellfleet Pier with our friends from NJ, who are here for the week. Yum. Bluefish, steamed local vegs, rice, (fried oyster plates for our friends and a jumbo lobster roll for Dan), then more talk back at our friends' cute rental house.

Today, we plan to go to the Audubon for another nature walk before joining the cars on Route 6 West for the 6- or 7-hour trek home. But first, we have to lock up the house.

Growing Older

Above: The Blue Spruce tree is sturdy and strong, yet when I pass her and her sisters in parks, they remind me of ladies in waiting, in ballgowns with full skirts. They have fit legs, sure footing, no flimsy satin evening slippers. They can withstand storms, wind, heavy snow and drought. Dad planted Blue Spruces. They are resilient. Marriage takes resilience, too. Image from here.

Yesterday was our 32nd wedding anniversary.

We are older, and it shows. Our lives do not involve plastic surgery or constant workouts. No miracle serums. Our hair is thinner. I have a deep furrow in my brow when I think hard, or care hard, and I do both a lot. 

We don’t have a Nutribullet juicer or a fancy sports car bought at a peak of our lives. This is not Beverly Hills and we are not on our third marriages. 

I recently became the owner of low-prescription glasses for driving at night; they are tucked in the glove compartment. Dan is having some lower back pain. We both seem to be stooping a bit.

But we do still have strong hearts and a commitment to gardening as best we can, putting bulbs in the ground and hoping for beauty, composting old lettuce and fruit peels, making good coffee every morning. And a commitment to being good parents, again, as best we can. We like music, new and old. Tonight, we stole away to dinner at Le Salbuen on Walnut Street in Montclair.

What is that music playing? we asked as we sipped our coffee in modern white cups. Our server, a handsome young man, checked the Chill Radio stream. It was “Sea of Blue,” with beautiful piano notes. We both wrote down the name in the notes sections of our phones. Then we stopped for rations on the way home: four pizza slices for teens, five cans of Fancy Feast for Nina, two low-sugar treats for me since I did not indulge in the chocolate mousse, warm brownie with peanut butter, flan or Nutella croissant. (Dan loved the flan.)

We still write, as we did when we met in our twenties. Then, we had typewriters and Wite-Out at our desks, and now we have slim laptops (though Dan still uses an old Remington for 60-Second Novels).

I looked around at the small tables in the restaurant. We are older now, Dan no longer the young dad, proud he snagged a table on a Saturday night, and I no longer the chic mom in Burberry scarf and strappy black heels. They are the ones who pay a sitter $15 an hour and swoosh out of the house. We feel a little tired walking back to our car.

I feel confident at 62, confident in my style, my colorful life, my laughter, my writing and my hard-won wisdom. Beautiful, even, as I age, in the right light and right pants and especially with a blowout, pedicure and Nars Velvet Matte Lipstick Pencil in Dragon Girl*, which brings out my blue eyes. I can carry myself with goodness and grace. I am happy tonight for my pink cashmere, V-neck tennis sweater, acquired thanks to a $200 gift card won in a shopping night raffle at Stitch years ago. I do not take for granted the riches in my life; the people.

And yet.

It’s too much to keep writing about. I am grateful for our blessings and sorry for our struggles. I pray for both of us to find the strength, wisdom and grace to see them through, clearly and calmly. 

I hope, and I pray. And I try to accept the things I cannot change.

*My dear Figgy introduced me to this product when she did my makeup on Christmas Day in Maine.

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.

When Wedding Bells Stop: A Tough Topic to Face

I once applied for a writer position at Bride’s Magazine at Condé Nast on Madison Avenue. In the copy test, fed on white paper through my IBM Selectric electric typewriter--after hours at my women’s magazine job--I used words like frothy lace, magical, fairy tale and princess.

I was young and bridal magazines sell dreams, after all.

It was fun to write like that. I came close, but ultimately didn’t get the offer. I cried. But my dream career continued.

For SoFi.com, assignments come my way, on topics from safe deposit boxes to pet care savings. This one was an awakening, and a little hard to dig into. We all have friends, family and acquaintances who are divorced. Life informs one’s writing, so that helped. I thought of the women and men I know, the ones I’m close to, the struggles they faced.

Enjoy your day. I’m at my dining room table writing. Nina, our cat, runs by to visit or crawls into an empty grocery tote to rest nearby.

Here is the divorce budget article link: 

Budgeting Tips for Life After Divorce

(Image from SoFi.com.)

Stuffed Mushrooms and Spaghettini: Sarah Palin Ate Here

Above: Romantic "Barbra Streisand" rose from 

https://cityfloralgreenhouse.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/rose-barbra-streisand.jpg.

Dan and I clinked glasses for our 31st wedding anniversary (February 17) on Saturday--two nights late--at a table for two in Elio’s Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. We had an 8:30 reservation.

We booked our sitter and friend, Elaine--who kept an eye on the washer, dryer, laundry baskets, dishwasher, kitten and, most important of all, young teen back home while we drove across the GWB. I don’t feel comfortable, certainly not in the city, at this fragile juncture without Elaine in place.

We could go out in Montclair or in the city, I had said. Dan loves to pick fun places for me or our family.

I’m booking a table at the place Sarah Palin ate after testing positive for COVID. It’s supposed to be really good Italian food, he said the next day.

---------------------------------------

Those 31 years ago, on that February Sunday, I was a newly minted 30. Dan was 33. He wore black (tux) and I wore white (gown). 

Saturday night, I noticed our age. We are a bit worse for the wear. We have weathered storms. We have seen the sun. We are still together.

So many things in our house are upstairs--our only bathroom, the two bedrooms, Dan’s office. It gets tiring. We didn’t notice that when we bought the house in 1994. We were young.

Saturday night, I forgot my hairspray upstairs. Kids do come in handy.

Skippy, can you please run up and get my hairspray?

She came down with two tall cans and started spraying.

You said you need a shower, right?

No, I don’t. I took a shower.

Too late. She was blasting dry shampoo in my hair and fussing with it, aiming for Jersey-girl height. I had that at my wedding, thanks to Dumont hairstylist Donna.

--------------------------

It was blustery cold. I had pulled on tights, stepped into black suede shoes with straps and kitten heels. A black dress, a pearl necklace. I hadn’t dressed up like that for years. 

We hadn’t gone out to many fancy places (except Joe Allen in September), not with the pandemic taking hold March 2020 in NYC. Before that, our dinner dance card on memorable nights had included Tavern on the Green. Windows on the World, until a kitchen fire set off the smoke alarm that weeknight evening. The Four Seasons, for after-dinner drinks on a certain Saturday night. Balthazar (Tom Brokaw and his stunning wife, Meredith, sat nearby.) The Water Club. Spaghetto. Minetta Tavern. Once, even Gramercy Tavern. 

I put on eye shadow, brow pencil, mascara. How old was I when my brows became invisible without pencil or a salon tint?

I wore my gold charm bracelet. It, too, is 31 years old, and jingles with memories, from a Hawaiian honeymoon pineapple to a miniature baby carriage and a typewriter. A little-girl charm embedded with Figgy’s peridot birthstone--a gift from Sis. A high-heeled shoe I got at Lord & Taylor with a gift card from Dad. 

It took three people to fasten the tiny clasp Saturday night--Dan couldn’t see it and was getting the driving directions on his phone, then Elaine couldn’t, not without her eyeglasses. Skip came through in the clutch. I was too tired to try, and anyway, I figured I had three helpers to ask.

---------------------

After Sarah Palin flap, guests are greeted by a fellow who carefully vets vaccination records against photo IDs.

--------------------------------------

I checked the menu online. Prosciutto di parma and melon--$25. I know prosciutto is pricy. We haven’t splurged on an expensive meal like this in a while. We enjoyed it, grateful we could go. We didn’t get back to a second honeymoon in Hawaii. We were changed; life had changed us, for better and for worse. But we could have this luxurious dinner.

----------------------------

I know a lot about Dan by now. I knew that since we were in an Italian restaurant, he would get a tiny cup of espresso after dinner, with a single piece of lemon peel to rub on the rim and Sambuca on the side. I knew the sweet licorice liqueur would arrive in a cordial glass with a few coffee beans afloat.

-----------------------------------

We took close note of the scene, the food and, especially, the bustling service, like a well-practiced game of musical chairs--diners sit, waiters step over with water, bread, butter, silverware. Cocktail order in. Don’t skip a beat. After jotting appetizer and entree orders on pad, place steak knife (if necessary) and cheese grater on table. When plates arrive, approach, inquire "Fresh pepper? Cheese?" After clearing entrees, recite names of delectable sweets, using Italian words like tiramisù and zabaglione and take dessert and coffee requests. Glide to table with hot coffees, silver spoons, sugar packets. Know all the while that all food served will be delicious.

But we were not rushed. We were there until 10, drinking in the glamorous city we love.

------------------------------------

It was, largely, a beautiful crowd. An Indian or Pakistani woman, expecting a baby, wore her long, dark hair loose against a pale cappuccino-colored sweater with fur-trimmed, elbow-length sleeves. Men had stylish eyeglass frames, collared shirts under crewneck sweaters, expensive shoes. I loved the faux white flowers pinned in a blonde woman’s hair. I had to keep sneaking looks. It was so stylish.

We ate stuffed mushrooms (me), burrata (Dan)....I had chicken parmigiana the likes of which I have never seen, pounded flat, thin and big as a saucer. No blanket of rubbery cheese. Dan had spaghettini broccoli di rape that he raved about.

We shared fresh berries and fluffy whipped cream.

------------------------------------------------

It was a treat to dine in a great place sans Skip for the first time in a while. (She was with us at Joe Allen in September.) Jerry (sp), the maitre’d, slipped my lavender wool coat over my shoulders at the end of the evening and bowed, saying he hopes we return.

And now I read in this NY Times link that Joan Didion (one of my favorite authors) and Tom Hanks have eaten there.

We were among the glitterati for dinner theatre, that’s how it felt. 

We love New York.

 

Spinning Wheel

 "Spinning Wheel” 1969 single by Blood, Sweat & Tears

What goes up, must come down
Spinning wheel got to go round
Talkin' 'bout your troubles, it's a cryin' sin
Ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel spin

You got no money and you, you got no home
Spinning wheel, all alone
Talkin' 'bout your troubles and you, you never learn
Ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel turn

Did you find a directing sign on the straight and narrow highway?
Would you mind a reflecting sign?
Just let it shine within your mind
And show you the colors that are real

Someone is waiting just for you
Spinning wheel spinning through
Drop all your troubles by the riverside
Catch a painted pony on the spinning wheel ride
Ha!

Someone's waiting just for you
Spinning wheel spinning through
Drop all your troubles by the riverside
Ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel fly

Wheels spinning here. We are doing our best by Skipper, by Figgy, by ourselves, by weary old Sugar and sprightly young Nina. A woman and a cameraman from Voice of America came to our home today to interview Dan and briefly, me, about his 60-Second Novel path started about 40 years ago.

Just handed in a story for ReadersDigest.com.

Good night.

Back Home, After Bird-Watching & Shell Collecting

On Tuesday, we drove over Cape May Two Mile Bridge (which splits and rises, so boats can pass through) and arrived at a wildlife refuge by the sea. We found many heavy horseshoe crab shells, like iron armor in the sand, and some pretty shells, both perfect and perfectly broken, that Dan put in the pocket of his fuzzy brown fleece jacket. Figgy lent us her bird guide (a gift from Sis)--we saw an American oystercatcher and sandpipers. 

Oystercatcher with babies photo from here. We loved walking the desolate (off-season) trails, especially the Dune Trail and the Marsh Trail at 

Cape May National Wildlife Refuge - Two Mile Beach Unit

1

The car ride was so much lighter on the legs and the spirit than those long treks to/from Maine, Vermont, Cape Cod, for all of their staggering beauty.

Cape May is just about 2.5 hours away. Nice and easy. But still at the edge of the earth.

We had a peaceful, restful time. Dan did have to work for a full day out of our four-day/three-night trip, writing an article for Neurology Today, a publication for neurologists. He does interviews and reports on complicated science/health news...it’s been our bread and butter for a while, certainly during the pandemic, when his 60-Second Novelist event/party gigs vanished, along with the now limping high-end entertaining circuit. He has accepted more Neurology assignments and it’s been good. So yesterday, when it poured rain all day, he worked in our hotel room and I did a little shopping (small gifts) and a little fashion wishing in the Congress Hall style boutique. I drove to the lighthouse in the night rain at 7 p.m. (it was evocative--I stayed in the car) before picking up our dinner from The Mad Batter.

When Dan and I were dating, we drove down to Cape May for a few days in the late 1980s and happened upon that restaurant. We were bowled over by an appetizer of baked Brie with raspberries--we had never tasted anything so divine, that rich, melty cheese baked in pastry with a layer of berries/berry jam under the crust. It’s not on the menu anymore; too bad, but better for our waistlines. The memory lives on.

Last night we got takeout....they have a signature Bloody Mary, and Dan loves those, so I got one to go with Tito’s Vodka. He had the crab cakes, which came with macaroni and cheese and plump green beans. I got the seafood risotto, and it was soooooo delicious, the rice a tender, buttery bed for a handful of freshly wilted spinach leaves, peas, huge fresh scallops plus lobster meat, crabmeat, shrimp. I enjoyed every morsel. Such a treat.

Here are some photos:

Fireplace from 1816 in Congress Hall, an elegant old hotel. We sat by it on Monday evening, where we met a new friend named Anne (sp), and Tuesday evening. Yesterday, I settled into a wicker chair with floral cushions, right by the fire, and felt the warmth as the rain fell outside. It is a beautiful place to sit. 

I love the name and the logo--Magic Brain Cafe. I bought a bag of coffee beans at the Perry Street coffeehouse.

Mini moss kingdom on the Cedar Swamp Trail today. Our scientist/artist/plant lover/biologist Figgy is moss-obsessed and now I’m catching on. We took a hike after checking out of our small hotel, grabbing a sandwich and stopping at the Stephen Smith House, an important summer home built (in 1846) and owned by a wealthy Black man from Philadelphia. (I didn’t take a photo, just breathed in the history.) Follow the link to read about it. The house was part of the Underground Railroad and was destined for the wrecking ball until the owner sent a telegram to President LBJ.

The swamp. It was mystical and beautiful but we couldn’t find a way around some swampy paths. Our socks and shoes were soaked. Thank goodness we had other shoes in the car. We got lost on the trail and were out there from about 2 to 3:40 p.m. But we both loved the adventure.

Dan clowning around on Cedar Swamp Trail--before we were up to our ankles in water.

Found this portrait of Stephen Smith from here.

Picture of Stephen Smith House from here. The house is on the road at the end of the town, far away from the Grand Dames--the finely painted ladies, the oceanfront mansions, the inns and restaurants with intricate white Victorian gingerbread architectural trim and fancy shutters. Smith did a lot for Black people. If we traveled back in time, we could see what it was like for a Black family like his to build and own a summer house in what is still very White-bread Cape May. (I love it there, but that seems like the truth, at least off-season in March.)

Good night. May the sound of ocean waves lull as all to sleep.

This Is 30 Years: Just the Two of Us for a Beach Day

In Maui on our 1991 honeymoon, I chose two souvenirs: Chic golden sandals from a fancy hotel boutique and a miniature glittery, golden pineapple from a plantation for the linked charm bracelet Dan gave me for Valentine’s Day, three days before our wedding. Today, at our 30th anniversary dinner in the time of Covid, we purchased the waterproof foldable guide above from the restaurant gift shop as our memory touchstone. That, and our delicious seafood meal (a splurge, counting appetizers and tip) will be enough. Nature is a big part of the joy and marveling Dan and I share.

Can’t believe it’s 30 years since we got married (Sunday, February 17, 1991).

We’ve been wanting to get away overnight, but it didn’t work out with the pandemic, frequent snow and high Airbnb prices....and life....so we drove to the beach today...to Sandy Hook. It’s just a one-hour car ride.

Want to get to sleep....THAT’S what #30 is like...trying to go to bed at the same time, with our books.

So a BULLET LIST of goodness today:

• Our sandwiches from home, wrapped in tin foil.
• No entry fee (off-season).
• The lighthouse at Sandy Hook, built in 1764, amazing. Longest running lighthouse in the United States. Soaring, sturdy tower, red and white. Lamp, originally fueled by whale oil, now electrified.
• A mom with her little girl (age 2 or 3) and the girl’s pink tricycle.
• The older kids with their moms....I plan to take Punch/Skippy and a friend back there one day soon. It’s a living classroom, water lapping to shore.
• Signs of World War I and World War II U.S. Army occupation and officers’ life, right in the cove of Sandy Hook. The “Officers’ Row” houses were built around 1798. So sturdy, still standing. How many storms have they withstood? We saw ammunition (torpedo shapes?), lookouts/fortresses over the water, the old Officers’ Club and the chapel, which was used by the whole base.
• Deer, hawks, sunshine, bird nests, old trees, bike trail, people out walking.
• Dinner at Bahrs in Highlands, New Jersey (“Famous for Seafood Since 1917”). We didn’t plan to eat inside; have not done so during the pandemic. But the manager let us sit in an area off by itself, still with a pretty water view.
• Dan’s Wellfleet Oysters, my crabmeat-stuffed flounder. Warm biscuits. Beet salad. Cloth napkins. Small, silver-tone coffeepot on table.
• Our second honeymoon souvenir: Tidepools of the North Atlantic folding pocket guide. I love this guide series and have Shells of the New England Coast on the kitchen counter, to remind me of Cape Cod, where I bought it, and help transport me there in my mind. This evening in the gift shop, it was tidepools, owls or common bees. I think I made the best choice.
• THE OCEAN. But too cold and windy to sit on the beach. I dragged my chair on with Dan, sat a couple minutes, quickly retreated to car with him.
• THE TRIGGERED BEACH MEMORY of little, walking Figgy (age 2?) in her aqua terrycloth Gap dress; she did not want to step on the sand. The beach must have seemed so foreign to her, like another land. Shaky underfoot, not dependable or known. Dan had to carry her over to our beach blanket. “She was so timid,” he said with a smile today. “I love her so much."
• BEACH MEMORY of Asbury Park with Fig and Punchy. The memory of that, about seven years ago, took on a new spin in my eyes now. Her context for past life melding with new life.
• NEW YORK CITY on the horizon. Striking, remarkable.
• TALKING ABOUT LIFE AND AFTERLIFE AND PHILOSOPHY on the car ride home.

Above, the guide I keep on the kitchen counter: https://www.foldingguides.com/product/shells-and-beach-life-of-the-new-england-coast/

Good night, sleep well.

The Sleuth in the Cloakroom

 https://alicegarbarinihurley.medium.com/the-sleuth-between-the-coats-in-the-hotel-cloakroom-715759fb55b5

Please check Medium link above.

I have loved writing lately, and think of it as a treat, a craft, a comfort. But it is 12:38 a.m. and I should probably rethink my writing time.

When I stay up late like this, I fuel myself with food--grabby, unhealthy foods.

I really would like to figure this out.

Good night.

Don’t Wear a Cashmere Sweater to Clean the Toilet

Above, Donna Reed does housework. I found the image on this intriguing blog: http://mid-centurypink.blogspot.com/p/mid-century-housewife-project.html. Mid-century housewife project!

My Medium post below:

https://alicegarbarinihurley.medium.com/dont-wear-a-cashmere-sweater-to-clean-the-toilet-f738da492275

Good night, sleep well.

Punchy at Mimi’s

P went for a few days and Dan and I enjoying our breather. So grateful. We are reveling in the peace and respite and we know P is delighted for her visit, too.

We bundled up and walked 1.7 mile loop around reservoir at turtle 🐢 back zoo. Dan caught up on all Christmas dishes, bowls, pots and pans from the making of chocolate cake, raspberry frosting, chicken potpies, latkes, roast cauliflower etc.

We ate leftover Thai food and we’re reading books and newspapers, candles lit on mantel, Sugar snoozing on couch. We talked to our sweet niece Anna, out in San Diego, and I called Meg and Greg in Vermont.

Good night.

Panning for Gold at the Supermarket

I am a sucker for milk, half and half or cream in glass bottles from a farm. I imagine it to be richer, more wholesome and a taste of old times. Photo from THIS LINK.

Yesterday, I masked up and went to Kings, the supermarket down the road, and bought a lot of luxury items. Since the pandemic began, Dan has done most of our in-person shopping at more affordable ShopRite. I Instacarted in between his excursions--from Kings and Stop & Shop. 

Anyway, this jaunt was a rare revisit for me. My choices are more foodie- and brand-based than Dan's. I think it's okay if it's not always, or we would likely go broke. My order also included staples we both buy, like sliced deli turkey, wet dog food, orange juice, clementines and baby spinach.

ALI VS. DAN (KINGS VS. SHOPRITE)

luxe vs. ordinary

Blue brand dog treats vs. Purina Beggin' Strips. Sugar is worth it.

Ronnybrook Farm whole milk from cows in Hudson Valley, New York--presented in retro glass bottle-- vs. Bowl & Basket ShopRite brand gallon (in plastic).

Organic Valley grass-fed half and half vs. ShopRite brand.

Viva paper towels vs. what's on sale. (Viva is best.)

Bouquet of big, rosy, crunchy radishes on stems vs. bag of machine-cut baby carrots.

Horizon organic vanilla and chocolate milk cartons for school lunches (on sale, buy one 12-pack/get one 12-pack free, save $19.99) vs. mini cans of Coke for home. (Soda should be just for parties.)

Fine organic Honeycrisp apples to celebrate the first day of school and deliver with Punch vs. no gifties to brighten day, unless I specify. (I brought a box of 5 reds to the house where Punch is so far "podding" for live schooldays with a brother and sister, her friends. She arrives before the bell at 7:50 am. Two of the apples were for the parents, who work from home. I've offered to do some days here, too.)

Upscale Smash Mallow individually wrapped flavored marshmallows for single Punch treat vs. oh, I don't know, Pop-Tarts, Oreos and garish orange Takis in equally garish purple bag.

American Flatbread vegan and regular frozen pizzas vs. Celeste individual cheese pizzas for 99 cents each. (I can't give Dan a bad rap, though. He does get vegan entrees for Figgy, and he is earnest.)

Prosciutto de Parma, thinly sliced at the deli before my eyes vs. prepackaged.

Frozen Van's Waffles (vegan) vs. Eggos.

Beauty watermelon wedge, ready to slice in neat triangles, vs. huge whole watermelon, which we have no room for, will never eat entirely and makes a mess when you cut it. 

Can of Amy's Thai Curry Sweet Potato Lentil Soup vs. Progresso Italian Wedding.

Juicy, ripe whole cantaloupe vs. early green bananas (sometimes).

Fancy coffee beans from a woman-owned company in Anaheim, CA vs. the biggest can he can get of Chock full o' Nuts. Giant.

Perfect roasted, salted cashews vs. peanuts.

Two sliced artisan loaves from Bread Alone, based in Upstate NY, vs. honest to God, the occasional loaf of soft white Bimbo brand squishy bread because he finds the name and white bear logo cute. It is,  but....sorry I'm being a food snob. I know Bimbo has its fans. He has also bought Wonder Bread.

Balthazar Bakery baguette for the bruschetta.

Kings brioche dinner rolls vs. um, most ordinary burger buns.

Anyway, here is my TCOY LIST:

1. 35-minute walk.
2. About to take pampering shower. 
3. Made colorful dinner: Roasted-tomato bruschetta on small toasted baguette slices, melon with prosciutto, watermelon, fresh mozzarella slices. But nevertheless, bad behavior at dinner table. Sigh. I tried. My family can be a handful. Figgy loves the bruschetta; it's vegan.
4. Other good foods eaten: kale, toasted peasant bread, Ronnybrook milk in coffee, turkey on whole-grain bread. Healthful choices have kept me calmer, fewer mood spikes.

Good night.

Bath, Bed & Beyond

Must pull the curtains on this day. Lock the door, zip the purse, close the kitchen, cover the pool, park the car, shut the book, hang up the dog leash, slam the fridge, turn off the sprinkler, shut down the computer, put the lid on the cookie jar, turn off the light, fasten the clasp, blow out the candle, close my eyes. (The only item I don’t really own on that list is a pool.)

Good nite.

Sofa-side Francophile

For Saturday night, Dan handpicked this gripping French suspense film. Some husbands might choose a special wine vintage--he is my personal movie curator, and I am grateful.

Image above from HERE.
Read Roger Ebert's review.

It's supposed to be the best Hitchcock film that Hitchcock didn't make, said Dan, and that was enough for me. He finds movies I really love. It's in French, so we couldn't get too far away from the TV or focus on the popcorn bowl [or, in this case, the container of wasabi peas]. I couldn't recline lazily on a sofa, because we had to sit up, stay alert and read the subtitles.

It was made in 1955, and one of the two strikingly beautiful leading actresses was the wife of the director. The story spins around a boys' boarding school, a missing headmaster, his wife and his mistress.

Then today, I rented "The Truth," the new release starring Catherine Deneuve, Juliette Binoche and Ethan Hawke. Again, in French, with subtitles. Again, I loved it. It's about a movie star who publishes her memoir, and her daughter, a scriptwriter from the States, is not too enthralled.

The leading lady is still stunning at age 76. Her hair, her eyebrows, her young-looking hands. Her skin. That leopard print coat with an open neck and long belt! The eyeliner. The starlet is aging gracefully. But also with strength, and it shows in her role.

I think this is an important message from the universe: I must go to France.

Good night.

TCOY

1. Co-hosted Zoom farewell party for a dear friend who is moving many states away. I cherish her.
2. Incorporated healthy foods into my day: salmon, baby potatoes with lemon, chives and EVOO; farm market raspberries; lettuce and tomatoes; asparagus.
3. It has been steamy and hot but I hope to set my alarm and get up and take a walk early.
4. Watching that Catherine Deneuve movie. No one wanted to watch with me, but it was good.
5. Dan and I had an important talk about how to improve things around here when Punch returns from Mimi's tomorrow or Tuesday. We've been lulled into a very pleasant vacation, which makes it easier to relax, be calm, get personal projects done and meet writing deadlines.

$ MONEY SPENT OUT OF POCKET FOR 6 DAYS,
FROM TUESDAY, JULY 7 THRU TODAY, SUNDAY, JULY 12

• Instacart, Kings, 1 lb. salmon; giant canister old-fashioned Quaker Oats; 1.25 lbs. organic apricots; 2 half-gallons organic 2 percent milk; loaf of bread; 2 Van's waffles; raspberry jam; EVOO; fresh chives; blue corn tortilla chips; and ingredients to make rice pudding from Ruth Reichl cookbook--cream, whole milk, eggs, long-grain rice, a lemon to zest. With tip, $119.81.
• 212 Salon, color, cut, blowout and tips, $150 plus $30 + $5, so $185.
• Barbara Eclectic, reading glasses, 20 percent off, $20.16.
• Starbucks, iced chai latte w coconut milk to bring Figgy at work during monsoon [I was in town, near her workplace], $6.66.
• CVS, 3 greeting cards, wasabi peas, nut mix, granola bars, sugar-free candy, 88 percent dark chocolate bar, more, maybe $35?.
• Falafel Hut, dinner for three, plus tip, $37.19.
• Post Office, sheet of stamps, $11.
• 5 Uber trips, with tips, to dr and back, salon and back, total $63.61.
• Chelsea Square, going out of business, amazing half off everything, including Rigaud Paris candles [Paris theme again, see?] More than half off--the Rigaud Paris candles that sell for $70 everywhere were $25 each. Total, $95.
• Chelsea Square again, for another trip to Paris, $79.97.
• Aerin.com, I love the lamp I bought there in the last couple years. The shades are on sale, $15 instead of $50. I got two other patterns so I can switch shades around, plus hairband on sale, with shipping, $83.16. 
• VESTA, $15.
• Rent French movie today, about $10?

Total spent out of pocket: $761.56.

Ongoing monthly spend as of July 12: $1,370.32.

Avg daily spend: $114.19.