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.

They 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.

High-Low Carbs: Heavenly Biscuits, Quick Crescents & Apple Pie Secrets 🍎🍏

 

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High

Dan was away in Boston and Maine last weekend for work and a short family visit. Punchy was out. I had a yen for the Lo's Fried Chicken carryout dinner for two from Turtle + The Wolf, a beloved Montclair restaurant. I wanted the chicken, but what I really wanted was the featherlight buttermilk biscuits. I ordered this dinner package once during that lonely, dark pandemic to share with Punchy. It is not cheap but honestly, the salad was enough for two nights and the 10 pieces of cult-favorite chicken took me through a few lunches/dinners. (You have to order ahead.) The creamy mashed potatoes, yum. (I resisted the Chocolate Peanut-Butter Tart with toasted fluff but had it once with Dan at the real restaurant table.) The hot biscuits were perfection, four small, light, leavened-in-heaven beauties lined up and presented with a little cup of honey. Golden tops and tender, fluffy insides. Omigosh, butter from my fridge, and honey from the cup. Excellent. 

Low 

The Pillsbury rolls contain flour, shortening, water, baking powder--and possibly palm oil.

By contrast, I went to ShopRite with Punch last week when she was hungry. She wanted to make a Seafood Boil, and that was nice, with snow crab, fresh mussels, baby potatoes, corn on the cob, shrimp and plenty of Slap Ya Mama and Old Bay Seasoning. I also allowed her to chose some kid things like chocolate milk, fruit punch (one of each), waffles and Pillsbury Original Crescents rolls. She made them after school today. "I love snacks," I heard her say on the phone to a friend. I was surprised at how good the crescents were, again with butter and honey (her idea). Also, food science at work. Processed, I know, but took me back to my girlhood, round biscuits in a tube, arranging them in a metal pie pan in our 1950s green Dumont kitchen, setting the table for my mother. Today's crescent dough triangles are rolled up so neatly, the directions so clear ($3.49 for an 8-ounce tube).

Apple Pie Secrets

I just wrote a story about Apple Secrets for Food52. I'm proud, and have been sending along more ideas. I've wanted to work for/write for that site ever since one of my idols, NY Times food columnist Amanda Hesser (Cooking for Mr. Latte book), co-founded it. Here is the link:

https://food52.com/story/apple-secrets-baking-cooking-fall

Still chasing my dreams at age 64, and why not? (Bobbi Brown and Katie Couric shared at the 92nd Street Y talk Wednesday night that they are both 68, and nothing's stopping them.)

My apple story intro mentions a tube of biscuit dough. That came first, before we bought the crescents.

Have a good night. 🍎🍏🍎🍏

Blessings Today: Spiritual and Store-Bought

A quick list.

1. My new Peanuts notebook from the Moleskine store in Moynihan Train Hall, up the escalator on the second floor. I love it. I made a list this morning of tasks for Life and for Work and found it helpful. I was productive. Dan usually doesn't read my blog, so I will say that I got him one, too (he loves Peanuts!!!!) for Father's Day. His set (shown above) includes 4 iconic Blackwing for Moleskine pencils. The following legends loved their Blackwings: John Steinbeck, Truman Capote, E.B. White, Aaron Copeland, Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, Eugene O'Neill. You had me at Capote and White.
2. Restore & Release Yoga class tonight with Krystal at Yoga Mechanics in Montclair. "People say 'take up space,'" she said near the end. "You don't take up space, you fill the space you're given." I hope I got her wise words right. Also, lovely music and a drop of moon oil at the end, so beautiful.
3. Jones Road The Nail Polish Kit from Montclair resident Bobbi Brown. I brushed on Poppy tonight, her signature red. It feels modern and clean, went on smoothly, dried quickly. The kit includes a bottle that doubles as base and top coat. Yay. 
   
   
   
4. The New York Times cookbook, No-Recipe Recipes by Sam Sifton. I bought the crimson, cloth-covered book at Friends NYC shop in Bushwick, Brooklyn on Saturday on a fun weekend with Kim, Liz and Nan. Already made the savory French toast with torn basil and tomatoes and the pasta with puttanesca sauce. Empowering and stylish book. I take it with me to the supermarket.
5. Wednesday interactions with Figgy. My niece Leah, up in Maine. My sister. My garden.

Good night.

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.

Feathering My Nest at College

My campus nest is for workdays, not overnights. This morning, Figgy and Dan suggested a few places to work out of the home. I've had trouble focusing in my office, and I work more productively in a shared space. I had already considered these and ruled them out.

1. Upper Montclair Starbucks. I know too many people coming in and out. Not a private office. Plus, memories of completing a very stressful writer's test on deadline there, at night. Just under the wire.
2. Java Love on Bellevue Avenue. It has many fans, but the tabletops are small and I wouldn't feel comfortable staying too long. Can't spread out with my accoutrements: Kate Spade pink Filofax, Lilly Pulitzer laptop case, Stashers bag.
3. Cedar Bean's Coffee in Cedar Grove. Too far to drive and the menu is not really my cup of coffee.
4. Clifton Public Library, Allwood branch. Dan loves working there and is there right now, but IDK, it just doesn't grab me.
5. Montclair Public Libraries. The one on Bellevue has charm and history, but not too much workspace, and it feels like just me and middle schoolers in the afternoon. I should be working on a geography report. (Do they still even teach geography?) The main branch, like Clifton, just doesn't grab me as a workspace. But I am grateful to have two fine public libraries in town with a trove of books, and they co-host important festivals, speakers and events.
6. Mercado on Valley Road. Good food but laptop limit windows and also, most people are there to talk and socialize, not work.

Figgy reminded me about the Montclair State University Library, so here I am. It was a hell of a steep hill to walk on campus but I did it. So that's an added benefit, about 40 min. round-trip walk for slow walker me. I got a latte at the new college Starbucks next-door and then sat outside at the tables to make work calls/set up interviews and eat my packed lunch. I didn't want to offend coffee lovers with the smell of lox. Look at my bowls, I love them:

I shopped Food52.com for 20 percent off spring refresh items for our home using code SPRUCEDUP but I think the code expired now. I saved a lot but most of all, found great style in the shop (spring wreath fresh from a farm in California, half-moon-shaped woven doormat, streamlined dish rack designed in Japan and garden gloves). I loved the set of small nesting bowls on 52 but that aqua (Sea Glass Swirl) one pictured on their site was not included in the set, and is so pretty. So I went to the source, Golden Rabbit Enamelware, and ordered this set of nesting bowls in Modern Monet. Dishwasher-safe. It helps that I grilled zucchini on the stove last night, so it was ready to go, along with rice and the fish.

I also went on my Zoom support group meeting at 7 a.m.! to start my day right. So I am feeling better, inch by inch. More productive, more purpose.

Step by step, dream by dream, goal by goal, one day at a time.

Mothering: Turning Fears Upside-Down

Image from RUN MOTO RUN. 

I'm trying hard over here to practice acceptance and to stand tall, or at least calmly stand by, in the face of fear and worry. To stay grounded. 

There's so much I want to put down, blank page and kind reader, about the cold, hard fears in our family....but that would be a violation of privacy on the public page, no matter how much it would be a release for my heart, mind, body and soul. I know you would help carry it.

For now, I will lighten my load by giving alternate names to the fears. For instance, let's say I had a motorcycle fear, because one of my two daughters was riding one. Then I could change that name here to something positive that the fear could maybe morph into one day, with the grace of God and a basket of luck. No matter how long it may take......days, decades, a lifetime (mother's or daughter's).

The motorcycle fear could become road map. Maybe the girl would grow to explore beautiful paths and places, arriving on her beast*.

If tattoos worried me (they don't, they are the least of my fears, though one daughter is prone to infections and pain from amateur applications), maybe the word switch would be: tattoo to body love. God knows they both like ink.

Right off, I listed 40 fears and dreads I have as a mother at this moment in time. To be fair, they almost all apply to just one girl. Many are just that, fears, and have not materialized. Many have. (Notice they are not in the context of wife, sister or friend, though maybe that's an oversight.) Here are my code phrases, turning my fears upside-down at 7:08 p.m. in my home office. You won't see the cold, hard fears, just the soft, turnaround wishes.

1. Floppy red roses, and the sweet scent of baby powder.
2. Compassion.
3. Self-esteem.
4. Readiness and wisdom.
5. Resilience.
6. Faith.
7. Success.
8. Skills.
9. Ice water or tea.
10. Rose-colored glasses.
11. Friend circles.
12. Kindness.
13. Pause.
14. Self-soothing.
15. Peacemaking.
16. Her own uniform.
17. Calling home.
18. Yoga teacher.
19. Walks by the sea.
20. Self-care.
21. Inner compass.
22. No place like home.
23. Ownership.
24. Freedom.
25. Long-term beauty.
26. Hands off.
27. Little white plastic fudge knife. 
28. Dates.
29. Truths.
30. Romance.
31. Integrity.
32. Openness.
33. Understanding.
34. Tolerance.
35. Inclusivity.
36. Softball (not speeding hardball) conversations.
37. Respect, inward and outward.
38. Independence.
39. Confidence.
40. Trust.

Going to Restore & Release: Restorative Yoga classes on Monday and Wednesday nights this week gave me great perspective. I love the gift of calm, quiet strength and self-care. So grateful for teachers Annette and Krystal. And the rain pouring on the studio roof last night. Perfect, just perfect. Rhythmic and real. But we were safe, warm and nurtured inside those walls, with our props for support (bolsters, blocks, blankets, straps and, of course, mats). Even luscious peppermint oil from Krystal at the end. Heady and helpful.

Revision: I thought of more fears/dreads and code word switches this morning, Friday. The last is a bit superficial, but still. 

• Bank account.
• Generosity.
• God-given eyelashes, and a clear eye on the world.

Saturday: I think this list of 43 says more about me than the young woman. How heavy my worries. Neurotic. Enough, enough.

*Bike: An acceptable term for almost any motorcycle , which is also often called a ride, sled, beast, the old lady, sweetheart, my precious, That Broken Down Old Piece of … and so on. Usage: “Sweet ride. How long have you owned it?” Big twin: Any large displacement Harley-Davidson. Fromhttps://www.themanual.com/auto/motorcycle-slang-lingo-terms-terminology-dictionary/ Oct 16, 2023

Vintage White Lace, Icing On a Cake

The Butterfield Skirt and matching cake,

PerennialSpring.com. Cake not available to order.

Designer Caily Herbert grew up down the block from us here in Montclair. Young Figgy received one of her girlhood dresses, a fancy hand-me-down, new with tags. Caily's been a baker, worked on a farm and in the book publishing world, involved with the (near) release of a very big book. She attended Bard College, in its magical perch overlooking the Hudson River.

But now, behold: Her dreamy, handmade clothing line fashioned from finite amounts of fabrics and trims that she found on her treasure hunts. Every garment is made-to-order.

From the PerennialSpring website: The Butterfield Skirt in eucalyptus green cotton, ever so slightly sheer. Order skirt with lining for ensured opacity. Garments pictured are unlined. Available in sizes XXS to 4X. (That's Caily modeling.)

I love this feminine circle skirt, made with vintage Schiffli lace trim that Caily says "looks like frosting on a cake." A long row of covered buttons at the side adds to the confectionery appeal. In one Instagram photo, Caily models the skirt while holding a blue frosted cake with careful swoops of white icing. "Correct accessory for the Butterfield Skirt," the caption says. If I get the skirt, it will be a splurge to wear as a feminine basic, with a black top and black capri leggings, since I am no longer twentysomething. A kitten heel would help, too. I love the color (my favorite), the cut, the swing, the buttons--and the cake lace. 👗👗🎂

This beautiful young woman can sew and bake...for her mom's milestone birthday party, she made a "Wedgwood" Cake modeled after the famous English china pattern dating to May 1759 and named for potter Josiah Wedgwood. Here's that iconic color scheme (BTW, the designer's mother, Kate, said both blue cakes tasted as good as they looked):

The 7-inch Magnolia Blossom vase from 2Modern.

Caily has a whole line of circle skating skirts with vintage ribbon trims. She styles them all with fun winter sweaters. You have to take a look.

Skipper and Young Romeo Go to Prom

At our home. One thing Skipper and Romeo have in common, among other things, is nearly jet black hair. Also, they both love to season food with Latin adobo and get drinks/"bevs" from Panera, QuickChek and Starbucks. They seem to talk frankly and deeply. She is 17, he is 18. 

Here are the photos from Skippy's/Punchy's prom night Thursday, May 30 with her boyfriend, code name Romeo, a senior. Skipper is a sophomore (she started kindergarten late). It was at The Legacy Castle, which looks elegant. Romeo is from Wayne, about a 15-minute drive from here.

I started calling our girl Skipper in this blog a while ago, because she reminded me of Barbie's little sister, following Figgy. I do not mean that she is plastic, or shallow, or just a doll. It is an affectionate term. Skipper is real, very real, and brainy in her own way. And both she and Romeo have caring hearts.

The weather was beautiful. We were all happy to celebrate such a happy occasion. My next-door neighbor and friend, Julie, told me Montclair High School now does pre-prom photos at Van Vleck House & Gardens, so we went to that gated property. So lovely. 

Most of us here have busy lives and jobs, including Romeo's young mom, pretty blonde Y; Romeo, who works many hours at a restaurant and saved money to buy his car, shown; Skipper's young grandma, a school principal, who looks so much like Skip, who in turn looks so much like her late birth Dad, and her birth mother; Figgy; Dan; and me, though I work freelance from home. So it was great to all meet up pre-prom. Mimi brought sub sandwiches, cheese and crackers, watermelon chunks. I wanted to catch some family photos in the gardens.

Skipper and Romeo with his mom and two younger brothers. I love that purse, which Dan and Skip found at Bloomingdale's on prom day. It has a chain for a shoulder option. Y helped us with dress shopping at David's Bridal in Paramus. As an older mother, I am not fully on trend with prom styles and satin platform shoes.

Selfie by Dan. Skipper and Romeo and his family again, plus me, Skipper's Mimi, and dear Figgy on the end. 

Mimi and Skipper. So beautiful.

Romeo and his brothers.

Romeo and his chariot. He worked hard to save money.

And here is a link to photos from Figgy's senior prom, 11 years back. She was 17 at the time, as Skipper is today. We got a good shot of just Fig and Skipper on Thursday night, but no one has been able to find it on their phone yet. 

I'm going to the family house on Cape Cod Monday morning for four nights with Sis, Meg and Greg. Will report back. I look forward to bird watching walks, Great Pond, the bike path--and lobster.

xo

Going to the Groomer

Haha, grooming is what you call it for your doggy....our Sugar would emerge puffed-up and proud, smelling delicious, with a little top bow. But I am going to Boho Hair Salon & Cafe today for a haircut with blowout (and a coffee from the pink cafe part). The salon is famous for painted-on highlights and beautiful blowouts.....

I am looking forward to it.

Life is spinning, and some days I do better than others keeping my balance. We are going to DC tomorrow for a full weekend of wedding fun for a lovely young couple. Lots of activities planned. We have known Ben all his life, and it's an honor to celebrate him and Kaitlin. Thankfully, Sis is coming with her pup from Connecticut to stay here Friday to Sunday and hold down the fort with Punchy (teen) and Nina (pussycat).

Have a good one.

Restorative Yoga at Night, with Dream Oil

This oil smells so lovely and the makers say it helps us dream better.

I went to my restorative yoga class tonight, led by lovely Krystal at Yoga Mechanics on Forest Street. It was relaxing, the music was beautiful, my body was at rest, I put my stress down. I was restored.

One of my favorite parts is when Krystal goes around the room at the end when we are in Shavasana, the final resting pose on the floor ("corpse pose"), and dabs a little dream anointing oil on us. 

"If you want the oil, put your hands by your side. If you put your hands on your belly, I will know you don't want it," she says.

As she put a few precious drops of the intoxicating, fragrant oil in my right palm, she said, "Alice, the world is lucky to have you." So life-affirming and touching. She does that for everyone. "Bernadette, the world is lucky to have you," and so on.

The yoga studio sells some magical products from Dolly Moo, a brand run by two sisters whose retail home base is in an adorable little shop in town. Yoga Mechanics is getting the dream oil this week. But I already purchased a bottle* a few weeks ago. I love the fragrance, made from a blend of flowers.

What I have to learn, though, is how to be better organized about dinner when I take a late class like this. I got home about 8:50 p.m., and there was continued family drama, and I grabbed some foods I had not planned to eat. I'm grateful that I see that and that I intend to strategize. 

Good night.

*The bottle is small, and has a roll-on top. I want to see if I can remove that top, because I don't get enough of the oil with it.

Is 8:30 p.m. Too Early for Bed?

No. It is not too early. 

I rose at 7:45 a.m., brewed a big pot of Copper Cow Vietnamese vanilla coffee, cooked tortellini and sauce to put in Punchy's lunch tote, handled a visit from the plumber and his assistant about our broken garbage disposal, weathered high-octane stress and drama before Punch went to school, did my weekly DBT therapy on telehealth and worked on assignments and/or invoices for three clients. I didn't even take a nap. 

See Eloise at the top of the ladder? I love this illustration by Hilary Knight from the story of a little girl that I used to read to Figgy sometimes at bedtime. I will pretend I'm reading it to myself now. Image from here.  I forgot that Hilary was a man.

Bonus points because I ate three healthy meals that included fruits and/or vegs instead of skittering into junk food.

B: Whipped cottage cheese with fresh strawberries.

L: Tuna on whole-grain with roasted red peppers on the side.

D: Leftover One-Pot Pasta with Ricotta and Lemon from the NY Times that I made last night with elbow macaroni and handfuls of watercress and fresh spinach as Melissa Clark suggests in the intro. Pronounced notes of fresh lemon juice and peel, red pepper flakes, fine Parmigiano Reggiano sourced from Van Hook Cheese & Grocery, a fancy purveyor in Montclair. (I bought a small wedge at Dry Goods Refillery on this end of town. It's fun to shop there, farm milk and eggs, solid shampoo bars, local products, tablets and glass spray bottles to make your own cleaning products instead of heaping more plastic in landfills.) 

Sometimes, on Cape Cod, especially when Figgy was little and we had put her on the tandem bike behind Dan's bike and pedaled for miles on the bike path, we would be exhausted and all three hit the hay by 8:30, once we got back home.  

We are not on the Cape with a young girl but we are Monday-night tired. Time to lower the blinds and rest. And now it's closing in on 9:30.

Good night.

Our Town

I love perusing grocery stores. Chicken potpie photo from Griggstown Farm website. Actual potpie in my freezer.

Today I pushed through and walked into town at 4:45 p.m. It took about 25 minutes. I realized it's not just the can-do journey I miss, or the lacing up the sneakers, wrapping my mother's aquamarine mohair scarf around my neck and heading to a destination with a purpose (today was grocery shopping). 

It's also the familiarity of passing all those houses along Valley Road, the ones I have passed for 30 years. Lydia's. Mary's. Maiko's. The house where the woman worked hard planting flowers, like tiger lilies, in the heat and then her family moved. The ranch that took so long to sell. The idyllic white farmhouse with a porch and front garden. The house with the iron entrance gate, and the one with the hydrangea tree (not bush) that is so pretty in bloom. The small house that always has a shiny, colorful sports car in the driveway, turquoise or yellow. I figure the homeowner must be a car salesman, who can rotate cars from the inventory. I figure him to be a bachelor, though I've never seen him.

And it's a jolt of energy to be downtown in a cosmopolitan place that is not my living room, home office or immediate neighborhood. The commuter train nosing out of the Bellevue Avenue station. The people walking from the platform to their homes. The woman in a cute knit hat with fluffy pompom. The railway connection to my beloved New York City. And yet, yet, commuter time in our town is so much lighter since the pandemic, with hybrid/work-at-home schedules. I no longer see a rush or crush. It's different, and quiet.

I had two very heavy bags of groceries, so I couldn't walk back from Kings in the dark. Figgy picked me up and drove me home. But I laid in lots of nourishing family groceries, including fresh blueberries, mangos, organic milk, a big bag of Bell & Evans frozen chicken patties, Ezekiel cereal, Dave's Killer Bread, a large Griggstown Farm (Princeton, NJ) frozen chicken potpie to stash in the freezer, organic apples, fresh mushrooms, oatmeal, fresh salmon from Norway, vegan coffee creamer, a papaya and more. Groceries cost a lot, even with the many digital coupons I used. I better step away from Kings. It's just that I can walk there, and that's good. And healthy groceries are an investment in our collective well-being.

Good night.

Lucky 7 List: Tuesday’s Child Is Full of Grace

Showy pink lady’s slipper, or slipper orchid. 

Wow. Do we really exist in a world 

with wild, slipper-shaped flowers? 

That’s lucky. Image and info link here. 

I started writing here in February 2010, when Figgy was 14, a high school freshman, and Punchy was 3 and back living with her birth mom. (My smart, long-time friend Kim’s blog set me on this blogging path.) 

I have seen darkness and light, and charted it here. Click for a few examples of posts about sadness and sunshine of the spirit.

Today I see graces around me. But facing life on life’s terms also brings an awareness that we all meet up with challenges, and trying days. It won’t just be the gentle wind at our backs every day. Sometimes the road will be rocky and slippery. (Yesterday was hard. From 3 to 5 p.m., a certain young someone had great difficulty regulating her emotions and holding a boundary. It was ugly and scary, I won’t lie. But it must have been ugly and scary for the young one, too.)

Graces, midday on Tuesday, March 21, 2023:

1. Child. Punchy started at a new out-of-district high school last week. I am so very very very very very very grateful. So is Dan, and the extended family that supports our Punch. They know who they are.
2. Beauty. I got my hair cut last week--a trim and shape-up by talented Linda at 212 Salon and Day Spa in Montclair. I’m grateful to have moderate funds for pampering: regular pedicures, special-day blowouts and, when I can no longer ignore the gray, single-process hair color. Then, every few months, if the stars are in their courses and the pennies in the purse, the big kahuna, the ultimate glow-up: Highlights by Chrystina at Boho Hair Salon. (I put live links here not because I earn money if you click on them. I don’t. But I want you to know of these places, too.)
3. Notes. Writing notes (mostly thank you notes, or letters to Figgy in Florida) is very important to me. When I’m not in a good mental state, I do not mail notes. I cannot muster up the energy or find the space for the process: pen to paper, good thoughts, Love, Alice or Love, Mima, lick the envelope, address it, press on a Forever postage stamp, put in our mail basket for carrier, David T., to send on its way. “This should get to her in three days,” David says when I put a card there for Figgy. If something is more urgent, I go to the Post Office, and I love that, too.
4. Fat cat. I adore that Nina, who just turned two. She is a storybook kitty, pretty green eyes and a playful spirit. Like Sugar Maureen, our Bichon Frise, Nina is my baby.
5. Skin. Less acne. My darn CPAP machine mask irritates my skin. I need the mask and machine so I keep breathing at night, but I pay for it with breakouts and redness. CeraVe Acne Control Cleanser, bought on impulse at CVS, seems to help. My dermatologist could not. Don’t ask.
6. Young adult. Figgy is doing well as far as I can see, and my heart lifts for that. It’s a fact mothers share: If one of your kids is suffering psychologically, physically, heartwise or in any other way, you are far less lighthearted and hence, less likely to count your graces. But I think counting our graces anyway on any day is a skill worth acquiring. When we do that, we don’t fall apart with our kids in their tough times. I have been prone to falling apart and losing my footing with a daughter or two, as though one sad, scared young person is not enough at any given time in a household.
7. Health care. Coverage is paid up to date. Years back, I had to call many times because our monthly payment was very high and hard to keep up with, and our coverage had been terminated. Thank you, Obamacare*. 

Graces are not just big things but also small ones, like a tiny daffodil raising its head in a ruffled bonnet or two adorable little sisters in the neighborhood walking their cute dog, who just happens to be wearing a sweater. 

May all of our days be sprinkled with graces. 

*Per Wikipedia: HealthCare.gov is a health insurance exchange website operated by the United States federal government under the provisions of the Affordable Care Act or ACA, commonly referred to as “Obamacare”, which currently serves the residents of the U.S. states which have opted not to create their own state exchanges.^{[1][better source needed]} The exchange facilitates the sale of private health insurance plans to residents of the United States^[2] and offers subsidies to those who earn between one and four times the federal poverty line, but not to those earning less than the federal poverty line.^[3] The website also assists those persons who are eligible to sign up for Medicaid, and has a separate marketplace for small businesses.

The Gift of Restorative Yoga

Lily of the valley image from Longfield Gardens in Lakewood, New Jersey.

I asked Dan to get me five classes to the beautiful studio Yoga Mechanics for my birthday, January 21.

“You know, that’s a hundred and twenty-five dollars,” he said. “I could get you something that lasts, like a piece of jewelry or something, for that amount of money.”

I said something like “I know, and you have given me such pretty jewelry over the years. But these classes really help me."

It has taken me til now--February 22--to use the first one. Life, bad behavior/stress in the house, which threw me off course, or wintry weather kept intervening. Or low Uber funds, since Dan and Punch drive to a DBT adolescent group therapy program Wednesday evenings, and I have to Uber to the yoga studio, then Dan picks me up. (Tonight, the ride cost $9.94 plus $2 tip.) 

My favorite class is Wednesday night Restorative Yoga, taught by Krystal. It runs from 7:30 to 8:30 p.m., so I didn’t eat dinner until about 8:45. I don’t like doing yoga after a full meal.

I loved the music. Krystal told me it’s her “Restore” playlist on Spotify. I found it and am playing it, especially “Be Here Now.”

I am very grateful that I got to class tonight. It was indeed restorative. I used a bolster, two blocks, a strap and two blankets for extra support.

Good night.

P.S. One more reason I love this yoga studio: co-owners Hana and Annette. You know me, I like to style watch in life. Hana is not only smart and lovely but her hair looked SO GREAT that I asked her where she got it done. Boho Hair Salon, "Chrystina with a y,” she said. (Boho also has an attached cafe.) So now I try to go there every few months for investment highlights.

Monday in the Park with Teens

                                                    Above, Punch and K on path.

Yesterday was Presidents' Day, a school holiday. I took Punch and her friend K to Yantacaw Brook Park for a short walk before going for a small-plate empanada/plátanos with mango smoothie and cherry lemonade for the girls lunch at Noches de Colombia downtown. 

The pocket park looks like something out of a storybook, with ducks showboating in the pretty pond. We walked three of the short park loops. It always feels like a little bit of heaven in that spot, because it’s so tranquil.

Even though the girls walked ahead of me most of the time, I caught some snippets of talk about the piercing of navels, birthday parties, manicures and boys--Punchy’s boyfriend; some boy who has a girlfriend now; and one who moved to another town when his parents divorced but still lives part-time in Montclair. 

It was score one for me, though. I smiled to myself. Even though their phones were in hand (of course they were), I got the two teens out to breathe fresh air and walk in the sunshine, ever so briefly. 

Good night.

Words of the Day: Walking in the Rain

Song from 1948. Image from here.

I propped my flowered umbrella over my left shoulder and did a loop at Anderson Park this afternoon, passing the plaque on the rock, the plaque that honors two championship-winning Montclair lacrosse coaches from the 1970s.

As I passed it, I wondered how it must feel to parent superstar kids, high schoolers who are champions and part of a team. Must feel so good. Do those kids have troubles too? (I doubt it.) Yet now as I reflect here, I see...I ran on the cross-country and track teams all four years during that same seventies window at Dumont High School. Some of the swiftest, strongest girls did have teen challenges: anxiety, lack of friends, mocking, body image and eating disorder issues, peer pressure, “reputations,” and more.

I walked on. Over by Parkside Street, I noticed the boyhood home of astronaut Buzz Aldrin--a shake of magic on a dull afternoon. 

Things seemed mundane....after the walk, buying ground beef at the supermarket. Another lady and I went through the motions. Sighing in our minds, not audibly, as we figured out dinner again, and on a budget. She had long brown hair and was younger than me. The ground beef was on sale. With resignation, we picked up the packages and put them in our carts.

Comrades at the meat counter and in life, without exchanging a word.

So much in life feels hard today. Accepting other views of important situations, when I believe my view is the right one, the only one. Trusting other people. Co-existing with teens, teens who make choices, a young Romeo and Juliet-like pair, and overhearing snippets of their conversation while they make tacos in the kitchen. That could be considered a blessing, too.

Did Romeo and Juliet make tacos? Enjoy frozen waffles for dessert? Haha, no.

According to reference.com:

What Foods Did Romeo and Juliet Eat?

William Shakespeare’s play, “Romeo and Juliet,” mentions in Act 4, Scene 4, “They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.” This is the only specific mention of food in the play resembling the typical diet of upper-class Italians in the 16th century.

Coming to terms. I am responsible for my behavior in life and cannot control what others do.

But it occurred to me today that maybe blogging here helps me sort and sift through life, like sifting through sand on Cape Cod, keeping the pretty scallop shells and letting the rest of the sand fall back into place. But how many times have I picked up a rock near the surf, a stone that shines purple, only to take it home and see it as ordinary gray once it’s dry and on my desk?

Do we need the sun to help us see things in a better light? The sun and the glistening sea? Do we need words to help us see things in a better light? In a softer, brighter, or clearer light?

In between writing about a lovely weekend apartment in the Mediterranean, asking about the fabric on the slouchy white couch, and who did the painting, and then inquiring about a Brooklyn Heights pad with brightly colored walls, and writing about money matters for a fintech site, I think blogging here helps. Writing about life.

It feels good to be home again.