Looking Back

December 31, 2016 – Looking Back

Looking back, this has been a year of profound sorrow and exuberant joy.  Of course, Elliott’s passing in February made for a difficult start to the year.  But I’ve kept his strength and his spirit close to my heart and it has allowed me to embrace the happier moments that followed.  Being grandmother to Sylvie is an incomparable experience and I am so grateful to my daughter and son-in-law, who are marvelous parents.  I’ve taken advantage of the opportunity to travel once again, with trips overseas and within the United States.  As much as I love to travel, I love coming back home again and being in the space that Elliott and I created and shared for so many years.  Life has been good to me.  As I look ahead to 2017, I think I’ll be fine, but I admit to being concerned about the future of our country and our world.

On a personal level, the year ended on a positive note.  My mother, Katie, celebrated her 91^st birthday in late December. 

Katie celebrated her 91st birthday with a glass of sparkling cider.

I spent a wonderful weekend with Elisa, Christian, and Sylvie at Christian’s parents’ home in Yorktown, where we celebrated Christmas and Hanukkah all together.  This past Friday, I got together with friends from Annandale High School for a visit to the National Gallery of Art to see the superb Stuart Davis exhibit. 

A 1928 painting done during the year Stuart Davis spent in Paris.

One of Davis' "egg beater" paintings

Swing Landscape, 1938, by Stuart Davis

And, I’m happy to report that I met one of my major goals for this past year:  I read an average of one book per week.  In fact, I completed reading the 53^rd book a couple of days ago.  Not all of the books I read are worthy of mention in this post.  However, since I know many of you welcome reading suggestions, I’ll go ahead and provide you with titles of the books I would recommend.

Fiction:

News of the World by Paulette Jiles – a gem of a book set in the West during the post-Civil War period.

Another Brooklyn by Jacqueline Woodson – a short novel of coming of age in Brooklyn, told in a unique voice.

Razor Girl by Carl Hiaasen – a wildly improbable and funny novel set in Florida.

March by Geraldine Brooks – based on the life of the father of Louisa May Alcott and his Civil War experience.

Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi – spans several centuries with a setting in West Africa and the U.S.

The Never Open Desert Diner by James Anderson – mystery set in the Utah desert.

Miss Emily by Nuala O’Connor – poet Emily Dickinson and her Irish servant girl.

My Name is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Strout – short novel, beautifully written.

Epitaph by Mary Doria Russell – historical novel set in the Wild West.

The Last Painting of Sarah de Vos by Dominic Smith – two narrative threads: a woman painter in 17^th century Holland and a contemporary art copyist.

The Improbability of Love by Hannah Rothschild – a fascinating look at the contemporary art world.

The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd – abolitionist Sarah Grimke and her slave companion in pre-Civil War period.

Still Time by Jean Hegland – a Shakespearean scholar’s descent into Alzheimer’s.

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lenox by Maggie O’Farrell – set in modern-day Scotland.

Memoirs:

American Born Chinese by Gene Yang – a graphic book for young adults.

Negroland by Margo Jefferson – growing up Negro middle-class in the 1950s and 60s. 

On My Own by Diane Rehm – the recently retired public radio talk show host chronicles the loss of her husband and the year following his death.

Funny in Farsi by Farioozeh Dumas – an Iranian girl growing up in America.

Other Non-fiction:

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari – fascinating and easy to read.

The Only Street in Paris by Elaine Sciolino – life on the rue des Martyrs.

Also, on the topic of books, I want to mention that Portrait of Elliott, the book I wrote about Elliott’s life, will be available in a couple of months as an e-book and a paperback.  I’ll keep you posted on the progress. 

Best wishes for a happy and healthy new year.

Discovering the California Desert

December 17, 2016 – Discovering the Desert in California

I’ve just returned from a road trip to the California desert, where I discovered national parks, museums, good food, and warm weather!  Getting out West always reminds me how huge and varied the country is.  My friend Gale and I met up at the airport in Las Vegas and immediately set out on the road to Death Valley.  Right away, I was struck by the expansive nature of the sky and the landscape.  I’m so used to being in a densely populated area that it seemed strange to be away from crowds of people.  Also, coming from the East coast with its abundant trees, I found the desert quite desolate at first.  However, I soon learned to appreciate its particular beauty.  

Our hotel in Death Valley Junction (population 281) was the quirky Amargosa Hotel, part of a rambling structure that also houses the Amargosa Opera House and a surprisingly excellent café where we enjoyed sumptuous breakfasts.  

Sunrise in Death Valley Junction

Our main activity was touring nearby Death Valley National Park, which is enormous.  We spent most of the day driving through the park, stopping periodically for photos and short hikes.  We took a walk on the salt flats (yes, I sampled the salt) at Badwater Basin, the lowest spot in North America at 282 feet below sea level. 

If you’re from my generation, you may remember the television commercials for a laundry detergent called 20 Mule Team Borax.  I learned that Death Valley was originally settled as a mining town, and we saw a deserted mining facility, the Harmony Borax Works, in the park.  Mule teams were used to haul the borax to the railroad lines.  The Death Valley mines were abandoned decades ago when borax was discovered much closer to existing railroad lines.  When we stopped at a roadside “museum” in a small nearby town, we learned about the many uses of borates, which include fiber glass, ceramics, agriculture, glass, flame retardants, flat screen televisions, and more.  So it’s not just a laundry detergent! 

Abandoned mine in Death Valley

Our next stop, four hours away, was Pasadena.  Much to my surprise, I was the designated driver on the California freeways, and I managed quite well.  (At home, I’ll go miles out of my way to avoid driving on DC Beltway.)  We made an unscheduled stop for lunch when we saw billboards near Yermo advertising Peggy Sue’s 50s Diner.  How could we pass up tuna melts and pie?  And the decor alone (think Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, etc.) made the stop worthwhile. 

Since dining options in the Death Valley area were limited, we were delighted to discover the variety of restaurants near our hotel in Pasadena’s Old Town.  At Shandong Dumplings, we chowed down on veggie dumplings and a tasty eggplant dish.   

Dumpling makers at Shandong Dumplings

The next night, we sampled Tibetan-Nepalese fare, which was similar to northern Indian cuisine.  We spent our last morning in Pasadena loading up on carbs at a Korean bakery.   

Breakfast goodies (the very dark roll is colored with squid ink)

And I mustn’t overlook the very proper and delicious high tea that we enjoyed at the Huntington Library, Museum, and Botanical Gardens.  Although their rose garden was past its peak bloom, it was still fragrant and colorful.  We made a stop at another museum, the Norton Simon, where Van Gogh’s painting of his bedroom was on loan from the Art Institute of Chicago.  

On the fifth day of our road trip, the skies, which had been overcast in Death Valley and Pasadena, brightened as we neared Palm Springs, our final destination.  Right away, we fell into the relaxed atmosphere of this small desert resort.   We strolled through residential areas admiring the mid-century modern architecture, wandered in and out of shops on Palm Canyon Drive, and watched the sun drop behind the mountains late in the afternoon.  Faced with Palm Springs’ abundance of restaurants, we had the difficult task of deciding where to eat.  Fortunately, we had time for three dinners:  Mexican food at Rio Azul, Italian at Sammy G’s Tuscan Bistro, and fresh fish at Lulu’s Bistro.  There was even a decent museum in Palm Springs, where a special exhibit on the art of the American frontier was the main attraction.   

Looking out from out hotel in Palm Springs

The highlight of this phase of our trip was the day we spent at nearby (an hour’s drive) Joshua Tree National Park.  The park covers an area where two different types of desert meet and overlap.  We spent most of our time in the western section of the park, which lies in the Mojave Desert.  With elevations above 3000 feet, the Mojave is considered a high desert.  In addition to the ubiquitous Joshua tree, you’ll find scrub oak, yucca and prickly pear cactus in this area.  Rattlesnakes, jack rabbits and big horn sheep live in the Mojave but we didn’t see any of these animals during our visit.  The eastern half of the park lies in the Colorado Desert, a low desert, with elevations below 3000 feet above sea level.  This is actually part of the much larger Sonoran Desert.  You won’t find any Joshua trees here.  However, you’ll find creosote, cholla, and ocotillo growing, as well as palo verde trees.  

I'm standing next to a Joshua tree.

In the Mojave section of the park, we hiked a rugged mile-long trail that was described as “easy” in the park brochure.  I hate to think what a challenging trail would be like!  We also took a short hike up to Keys View for a panoramic vista that included the Santa Rosa Mountains, Coachella Valley, the San Andreas Fault, and the Salton Sea. 

An "easy" hiking trail

The following morning, it was back to reality.  We were up early and out of the hotel at 5:30 a.m. to catch our flights back East.  I’m glad to be home but the bitterly cold weather was a shock! 

Hello, Blog. Remember Me?

December 2, 2016 – Hello, Blog.  Remember Me?

With Sylvie, on Thanksgiving Day

Yes, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve posted to my blog.  I’m not quite sure why.  I’ve thought a lot about writing these past few months.  I’ve even scribbled some notes.  From time to time, I’ve been on the verge of writing a blog post but something has kept me from committing myself.  Fear of exposure?  Being unwilling to confront the confusion I feel?  Some twisted sense of virtue through self-denial?  I honestly don’t know.  Sometimes I’ve felt like withdrawing, just hiding in a “safe” place so I don’t have to deal with things I don’t understand. 

Maybe it’s partially a reaction to the change of seasons.  I recall, in past years, feeling a sense of impending doom as the hours of daylight grew shorter.  Ever since September, I’ve had to fight off the desire to burrow away until spring returns.  I’m usually okay during the daytime, so I’ve kept up with my activities – class at GMU, fused glass at the Workhouse, lunches with friends. 

There have been a couple of unwelcome reminders that I’m aging.  Back in September, I was touring a historic plantation in Alexandria with my friend Kathy.  When I was exiting the mansion, the toe of my shoe got caught in an old-fashioned rubber tire tread doormat at the bottom of a flight of stone steps and I tumbled to the ground, landing first on my right hip and elbow.  Although I was in some pain, my first reaction, after disbelief, was annoyance – this wasn’t supposed to happen!  I am not an old person!  Then I mistakenly assumed that I’d feel fine in a few days.  Hah!  It was more like four weeks before I was pain-free.  I spent a good deal of time practicing patience and developing an appreciation for the fragility of my physical condition.   

And just two days before Thanksgiving, I wreaked more damage on my poor aging body.  Actually, I was hurrying to catch a train in New York City’s Grand Central Terminal.   As I ran down the ramp, I suddenly found myself airborne.  Of course, a few seconds later, I crashed onto the platform, striking my shoulder and knee pretty hard.  For several seconds, I was too stunned to move.  I must compliment the EMT team at Grand Central.  They showed up right away, checked me thoroughly, and didn’t make me feel like a complete idiot for thinking I could fly.  Aside from a few twinges in my shoulder, I’m already feeling back to normal.  But I no longer take my physical health for granted.  I could fall apart at any second, without any warning – which makes me realize how remarkable Elliott was.  I doubt if I’ll be climbing up ladders and traipsing around Europe when I’m in my 90s. 

And speaking of Elliott, the finality of loss is hitting me hard.  I miss him a lot.  There’s so much I’d like to share with him.  He wasn’t here to see the brilliant colors of the leaves this fall.  He wasn’t at our Thanksgiving table.  He hasn’t seen Sylvie running and singing and dancing.  I think he’d be pleased to know that I’ve acquired some new practical skills, such as learning how to put air in the tires (and to take air out when I’ve over-inflated them).  It’s hard to accept, on an emotional level, that he’s not coming back.  And there are brief moments when coping with all the details of life on my own seems overwhelming.  Eventually, however, I step back, take a deep breath, focus on one thing at a time, and realize that I’ll be fine.  

Settling into September

September 10, 2016 – Settling into September

After a busy summer, I’m ready for September.  It’s a month full of changes.  In Fairfax County, the teachers and students are back in school.  Although the temperatures are still in the 80s and 90s, the smell of cinnamon brooms pervades Wegman’s. Any day now, pumpkin stands are bound to appear in the parking lots.  But before I become too eager for the next season, here’s a quick look back at the last few weeks of summer. 

Much of my time was taken up with two trips to New York to visit friends and family, both old and new.  The ease and comfort of reconnecting with long-time friends is such a pleasure of getting older.  My friendship with Hilary (not the former Secretary of State) goes back to kindergarten.  Recently, we got together for lunch at the new Northern Food Hall at Grand Central Terminal and exchanged stories of travels, family, and retirement activities.  Over Labor Day weekend, I met up with Simon, a dear Atlanta-based cousin. He and his wife were in Brooklyn visiting their son and ten-month old twin granddaughters.  Our get-together was especially fun because Elisa and Christian brought Sylvie along to meet her new cousins.

Brooklyn continues to delight me with sights and attractions to discover. Through long walks, I’m getting to know a variety of neighborhoods, such as Park Slope, Boerum Hill, Cobble Hill, and Carroll Gardens. For the first time, I walked through the Brooklyn Heights neighborhood.  In addition to admiring the lovely homes, I came across an intriguing Lebanese Maronite Catholic church with stained glass windows unlike those I’ve seen in any other church in Europe or the U.S.  These had a very mosaic-like quality, probably reflecting the influence of Byzantine art.  And The Brooklyn Heights promenade offered a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline.  

On the Brooklyn Heights promenade

  

In downtown Brooklyn, I spent a couple of hours learning about the history of the New York City subway system in the Transit Museum.  The museum, which is located underground in an old subway station, presents a wealth of information through well-designed exhibits.  The large number of archival photos from the construction phase in the early 1900s helped me understood the dangerous conditions faced by the workers, who were mostly recent immigrants and African-Americans.  Reading about the underpinning work required to support existing structures made me think of my father.  He was a civil engineer who worked in the construction business in New York for many years.  I was amused by the advertising in a couple of old subway cars.  The ads, which dated back to the 1940s and 50s, featured products like Burma-Shave shaving cream and Chuckles candy, and but the most intriguing ad wasn’t for an actual consumer product.  It was a Cold War-era ad for Skywatch, a civil defense program that counseled citizens to watch the skies and report Russian planes.  Wow!

1950s subway ad

Sylvie made our visit to Brighton Beach on a sunny afternoon especially memorable.  She loves anything related to water.  Russian was the main language we heard spoken on the beach and in the parks where groups of deeply tanned older men, with shirts unbuttoned to the waist, sat playing chess. Russian specialties were featured on the menus of the restaurants that lined the boardwalk.  With the enormous high-rise apartment buildings strung from Coney Island to Brighton Beach, the area wasn’t as picturesque as I’d imagined.  However, in some ways, the area retains some of its former charm.  Steeplechase Park, the old amusement park with its famed roller coaster, the Cyclone, still stands near the Aquarium.  It brought back memories of my birthday celebration the summer I turned five years old.  My father even borrowed a convertible from one of his friends for that outing. 

I made time for a museum visit, too.  The Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) has long been a favorite of mine.  When I was in high school on Long Island, I’d often stop by when I went into the city.  I’d linger in front of certain paintings, such as van Gogh’s Starry Night, Robert Delaunay’s circular Sun, Moon, Simultaneous 2, and Henri Mattise’s Dance (see photos below).  Of course, I headed straight for these “old friends” on my recent visit.  I also sought out paintings that I thought would have attracted Elliott’s attention.  He greatly admired Cezanne’s work and was influenced by Cubists such as Braque, Gris and Picasso when he was studying painting in Paris in the mid-1950s.  Thanks to a couple of art history classes at GMU, I was better able to appreciate works by American painters Gerald Murphy, Florine Stettheimer and Jackson Pollack as well. 

van Gogh's Starry Night

Delaunay's Sun, Moon, Simultaneous 2

Matisse's Dance

As usual, food was a central part of my New York experience.  I can highly recommend the new Danish restaurant, Bornholm, on Smith Street, just a few short blocks from Elisa’s apartment.  Sylvie is now an official foodie.  She and I shared a bagel with lox and cream cheese, a fruit tart from Mia’s bakery, falafel from Zaytoon’s – and anything else she saw me eating or drinking. Actually, her willingness to share can go to an extreme, for example, a partially chewed strawberry that she took out of her mouth and offered to me.  That’s my sweet Sylvie! 

Afternoon snack on the patio at Mia's Bakery on Smith Street

Sharing a water bottle

Back at home in northern Virginia, I made a few more trips down to the Workhouse to do some firings in late August.  My summer glasswork didn’t turn out exactly as I’d hoped when I took my approach to cooking and applied it to firing fused glass.  The reason is simple.  I tend to undercook food.  I like my roasted vegetables crisp, my baked salmon a little rare, and my homemade cookies still soft and chewy.  I can always add extra cooking time, if necessary.  Therefore, when I programmed the kiln, I kept the temperature a little low and the hold time a little short.  As a result, my glass pieces sat on the molds but didn’t slump properly.  Fused glass should not be undercooked.  Now I’ll have to do a slump firing again, with a higher temperature and longer hold time.  Oh, well, it’s a learning process. 

And speaking of learning, I’ve started a new class at GMU.  This time, it’s a year-long class in Renaissance art, taught by the same fabulous professor I had for the 19^th century art class last spring. Since so much of the European art from this period is religious, I’ll have to do some extra reading to remedy my lack of exposure to Christianity.  And of course, I’ll have to schedule a field trip to Italy to see the art in person.  Is anyone interested in joining me?

My main challenge now is getting the various aspects of my life back into balance.  I’m finding that I’m already quite busy, and a little voice keeps whispering to me, “Slow down.  Less is more.”  “But everything I do is good for me,” I protest.  Mentally, I run through the list of activities and why they’re important – exercise classes for my physical health, writing the blog and doing fused glass work to satisfy my creative impulses, socializing with many friends, reading for intellectual stimulation, going up to Brooklyn, doing volunteer work, etc.   I must admit, however, that sometimes I just want to stop and do nothing for a little while. 

On the surface, everything seems okay.  Lots of good things are happening in my life.  Yet, when I step back from the busy-ness of everyday life, I notice a vague sense of unease.  Something is not quite right.  It may be that I’m missing Elliott.  I want to talk to him, to tell him about what I’m doing and to show him photos of Sylvie.  He was the person I confided in for so many years.  It’s hard to accept that he’s not coming back – ever.  Sometimes the sense of loss hits me suddenly, out of nowhere.  It’s not a teary feeling but a profound sadness along with a strong need to feel needed emotionally.

Is this feeling compounded by fear of aging?  Is it the recognition that I don’t have complete control of my life.  I keep wondering, what’s the new normal?  My life keeps changing and I’m constantly making adjustments.  If wisdom comes with age, I’d better hurry and catch up.  At this point, all I can say with 100% certainty is that I’ll never have it all figured out. 

Recovery Underway

August 15, 2016 – Recovery Underway

Grandma Robin is in recovery mode after last week’s visit by Elisa and Sylvie.  It was absolutely wonderful having them here at the house from Tuesday until Friday.  However, it was also exhausting beyond belief.  I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so tired over an extended period of time.  As all of you with children and grandchildren know, there is no down time.  Each morning, with naïve optimism, I’d pour myself a cup of coffee and open the newspaper.  And of course, each morning, the coffee remained undrunk, and newspaper remained unread.  How does Elisa do this everyday? I asked myself.  How did I ever do this?  Even more mind-boggling, how did Elliott take on the duties of full-time fatherhood in his mid-seventies???  On the other hand, nothing makes me happier than seeing Sylvie’s bright and smiling face first thing in the morning.  

Elisa and Sylvie riding the rails in a new metro car!

My brilliant granddaughter accomplished what no one else has been able to do in years:  she got me to put on a bathing suit.  We were just taking her to the Mantua baby pool, mind you, but I still had to squeeze into a suit, dust off my rubber flip flops, and then try to remember how to wrap the darn sarong.  Sylvie enjoyed making big splashes in the water.  She was equally happy walking around the pool deck picking up dried leaves and acorns to pop in her mouth.  Fearless like all one year olds, she even she tried again and again to climb up onto the diving board.  We’d been working on going up and down stairs at home, so I guess she just wanted to practice her new skills. 

It delights me that Miss Sylvie has turned into a real gourmet.  She accompanied us to Duck Donuts (custom-designed donuts served piping hot), the Indian lunch buffet at Jaipur, and dinner at Artie’s in Fairfax.  Matt joined us at Artie’s, and we did a lot of reminiscing since the restaurant was Elliott’s default choice whenever we went out for a family meal.  As we were being seated, Elisa pointed across the room and said, “That’s where we sat when Dad told the waiter I was his wife.”  We also laughed about the times Elliott embarrassed us all by asking the waiter or waitress to guess his age.  On this occasion, I took on Elliott’s role of embarrasser-in-chief by interrogating the waiter about the various rosé wines on the menu.  It was worth the embarrassment because we ended up with a nicely balanced Chateau Puech Haut rosé from the Languedoc region.  As usual, the food at Artie’s was great.  Sylvie gave her approval of the grouper, the thin-cut fries, and two desserts – the berry shortcake and the flourless chocolate waffle with vanilla ice cream (a favorite of Elliott’s).  Alas, she left plentiful evidence on the floor of her enthusiastic approach to eating.  That’s why we always leave a big tip. 

3 generations at Jaipur

Organizing the containers

Relative calm returned after Elisa and Sylvie went back to Brooklyn at the end of the week.  The weekend turned out to be blissfully relaxed.  I watched a movie at home, did some laundry, finished another book, made a trip to the farmers’ market, and had coffee with a friend.  I even managed to eat a bowl of yogurt and fresh peaches with someone’s little fingers making their way into the dish.  There was only one problem, and it was a major one.  Late Friday afternoon, I found a large puddle of water beside the furnace – for the second time in a little over a week.  This is getting to be routine, I thought as I flipped off the air conditioning and got out the old towels.

Like much of the country, this area was (and still is) in the midst of an “excessive” heat wave.  My first reaction was disbelief, then horror bordering on panic.  Without air conditioning, how long would I survive?  How long would it take before I melted? I called the HVAC company right away but was told that they would only send someone out over the weekend in cases of medical emergencies.  So, given that there was nothing I could do except make the best of a trying situation, that’s exactly what I did.  Sure enough, the temperature in the house gradually rose to the mid-80s, but I found ways to adapt.  I carried a box fan around with me from room to room.  By Sunday afternoon, I knew that the best approach was to stay calm and move as little as possible.  The experience brought back memories of my childhood.  When I was growing up on Long Island in the 1950s and 60s, we didn’t have central AC in our house.  We took it for granted that we could cope with the summer heat by scaling back outdoor activity, sucking on popsicles, and hunkering down in the darkened house with shades and blinds drawn.  Honestly, my weekend wasn’t bad at all.  However, I’m glad the HVAC person is supposed to arrive momentarily.

Quiet Time

August 9, 2016 – Quiet Time

I’ve put off writing for a while because it didn’t seem like anything very exciting was happening in my life.  But it turned out that extended quiet time was just what I needed after a somewhat hectic start to the summer.  I got a lot of reading done, including the following two books.  The first is On My Own, a memoir by Diane Rehm, the NPR talk show host.  Her story of life after the death of her husband contained much that I could relate to.  Another book of non-fiction, Elaine Sciolino’s The Only Street in Paris, transported me on a delightful visit to the rue des Martyrs.  I highly recommend both of these books.   

When I wasn’t reading, I was probably puzzling, i.e. working on a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle laid out on my dining room table.  It actually became an addictive activity.  Until I set the final piece in place, I was willing to forgo eating, sleeping, making phone calls, checking emails, etc.  It was actually scary to realize how strong and powerful an obsession it was.  When I finished, I vowed not to start another puzzle for a long, long time. 

Not all of my activities at home fell into the “fun” category.  I had to deal with a couple of home maintenance issues – problems with the dryer, the air conditioning system, and then problems with the dryer again.  The HVAC issue is resolved – can I impress you with my newly acquired knowledge of condensate blockages?  Elliott would have been proud of me.  Previously, these concerns fell into his domain.  Now, the responsibility is mine, and I’m feeling empowered by my success. 

Most days, the weather was so muggy that I was glad to stay inside.  However, I got out for short periods of time.  On a day when the heat and humidity weren’t too oppressive, I took my mother out for lunch. It had gotten to a point where I was starting to avoid seeing her because I found it so stressful to deal with her memory loss and dementia.  Maybe she actually realizes that she has memory problems.  On our way to the restaurant, every 10 or 15 seconds, she’d say, “Remind me again where we’re going?”  As soon as she finished a few bites of her lasagna, she switched to, “When are you taking me home?”  Instead of getting frustrated (which is pointless), I tried to retain a cheerful attitude and simply repeated the answer.  Physically, Katie is still in good shape so she’ll probably be around for quite a while.  I hope that my acceptance of her present condition will make the time I spend with her more pleasant.    

Katie at Osteria Marzano

I also went out one evening for a short educational program at the Smithsonian in DC.  The subject was rosé wines, and the program included tastings, of course.  I learned about methods of producing rosé, which grapes are used, the characteristics of rosés from different areas, and more.  There was no homework assigned, but I’m a conscientious student, so I’ll follow up on my own by trying more rosés this summer. 

Back at home, I made major headway with a clean-up of the office.  In the process, I encountered some hidden treasures.  On a crowded shelf, I came across a binder entitled Random Photographs and Elliott’s Words of Wisdom.  It seems to date back to 2008.  Since I don’t recollect helping him put this together, I can only assume that he did it entirely on his own.  And the timing of my discovery couldn’t be better because I’ve been devoting much of my time to working on the final section of Portrait of Elliott, a book about Elliott’s life. 

I wrote the original manuscript nearly ten years ago so I need to bring the story up to date before I self-publish it.  As you can imagine, reliving the events of the last year of his life is emotionally draining.  I made a big mistake this past Sunday evening by working on a particularly difficult phase portion of the story for a few hours right before bedtime.  When I got into bed, I couldn’t shut down my mind.  Although I tried all my meditation strategies, I couldn’t let go enough to fall asleep.  After a few hours, I surrendered to the compulsion to get up and put all of the thoughts swirling in my brain down on (virtual) paper.  I was so absorbed in my task that I had no sense of the hours passing.  It wasn’t until I pushed my chair back from the computer around 4:30 a.m. and saw the pile of crumpled tissues in the trash basket that I realized I’d been crying at the same time I’d been writing.  Even though I went back to bed, I didn’t manage to get any sleep.  As a result, I had a severe case of brain fog all day yesterday. 

Thank goodness I’m feeling more like myself this morning.  My quiet time is about to end:  Elisa and Sylvie are arriving later today for a short visit.  I know their presence will fill the house with activity and bring this recent period of self-absorption to an end.  In fact, they’ll be here in a few hours.  And Miss Sylvie is walking, so I must go and finish baby-proofing the house right away! 

First Birthdays

July 22, 2016 – First Birthdays

Without a doubt, the major event of the past couple of weeks (at least for me) was Miss Sylvie’s first birthday.  Of course, I made the trip to Brooklyn, along with Grandma Teri and Granddad Dave, to help her celebrate.  Elisa planned a casual afternoon party at Mia’s, a bakery/café in their neighborhood, and invited about a dozen other babies (plus parents). Since it was a summery, sunny day, she spread out a big blanket on the terrace in back of the bakery to accommodate the assorted crawlers and toddlers.  As you’d expect, there was some commotion, but everyone was very well behaved. 

When the birthday cake (sponge cake with whipped cream and strawberries) was placed in front of Sylvie, she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.  At first, she first plucked off a strawberry from the top and took a few nibbles.  Then she did the same with a second strawberry.  It took some adult urging before she finally reached her hand into the whipped cream.  Once she had a taste, however, she didn’t need any more encouragement to plunge both hands into the good stuff.  Soon, we all joined in.  

Miss Sylvie is one year old!

The occasion of Sylvie’s birthday was a time to reflect with Elisa and Christian on how quickly the past year has gone by.  Twelve months ago, Sylvie was a helpless newborn.  Now she’s a happy, inquisitive little girl who’s just starting to take a few steps unassisted.  Elisa and Christian have embraced their new roles as Mom and Dad, and I’m so proud of both of them.  When you see your own child becoming a wonderful parent, it’s very gratifying.  At such moments, I also think of Elliott and how I would love to share this experience with him.  

The previous day, July 14, I’d had my own first birthday of sorts, i.e. the first birthday to occur during this new phase of my life.  In the past, I wasn’t in the habit of making much of celebration.  Something along the lines of lunch or dinner out, maybe friends over for dessert, was the norm.  Even though it would be low-key, I’d always try to make a French connection since my birthday falls on Bastille Day.  This year, I was already up in Brooklyn when word came of the attacks in Nice.  I was horrified, remembering Bastille Day celebrations when we’d lived in France and the many occasions when we had walked along the Promenade des Anglais.  The news was a terrible reminder of how vulnerable we are at all times.  In that somber frame of mind, Elisa and I took Sylvie out for a quiet lunch at a French café on Smith Street.  I’m not a fan of birthday cake, so that evening, we shared a couple of generous-sized pieces of peach pie from Mia’s.  Judging by her appetite, I'd say that Miss Sylvie approved.  

It seems that I’ve been spending quite a bit of time up in the New York area.  With my frequent visits, Sylvie has become quite expert at unpacking my bag (and trying on my clothes). 

The Great Unpacker, aka Sylvie

On my last New York trip, I was also able to visit with my friend Lynda, who lives in Connecticut.  Our friendship goes back over 50 years.  

Always great to get together with Lynda!

When I returned home, I hosted a belated celebration with a small group neighbors.  I started working on a simple menu, but once I got to Trader Joe’s, I went a bit overboard.  Since I haven’t been entertaining much lately, this was a good excuse to indulge my love of cooking.  The “pique-nique” included several French cheeses, good bread and crackers, smoked trout salad in endive “boats,” white bean dip with crudités, grilled chicken sausages, cornichons, roasted peppers, sweet potato chips, carrot salad (olive oil, lemon juice, shallots, tarragon, parsley), zucchini and yellow squash salad (olive oil, grape tomatoes, pesto sauce, ribbons of basil, toasted pine nuts), and cauliflower salad (olive oil, red wine vinegar, capers, anchovies, garlic, red onion, parsley).  The main dessert was a raspberry tarte, and to keep up the French theme, I also served assorted macarons.  There was plenty of chilled rosé (and red and white) wine, and plenty of relaxed good company.  It was the best birthday I’ve had in a long, long time!  

And thanks to Matt for taking me out for a lovely pre-birthday dinner in Fairfax.  We finished off a delectable meal at Great American Bistro with chocolate Nutella cake. 

Getting an early start to my birthday with Matt

Life isn’t all parties, of course.  I’ve enjoyed working at the glass studio at least twice a week, and getting to the gym on a regular basis.  And there’s certainly no shortage of things to do in the DC area.  One recent weekend, I learned about Basque culture at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival on the National Mall, and another weekend I explored the newly developed waterfront area near the Navy Yard and the Washington Nationals Stadium.  With friends, I’ve seen exhibits at several museums:  a photography show by women from Iran and the Arab world at The National Museum of Women in the Arts; contemporary crafts at the Smithsonian’s Renwick Gallery; the triennial portrait competition at the National Portrait Gallery; and a superb exhibit on the Greeks at the National Geographic Museum. 

Waterfront Park

At the Renwick

At the NMWA with Joelle, Michelle and Kathy

Nothing special is on the calendar for the next month or so.  Just more of the same, which is fine with me.