My Girl

My daughter is not allowed to have a Facebook account, even though she turned 13.  Say what you will, but that is a big, barely controlled universe I don't want my sweet little girl wandering around in.

She is allowed, however, to have her own locked-down little blog.  I think it will suit her better anyway.  She likes to write and take pictures and it will be a nice place for her to share her creativity with her friends and family.

The name of her blog is Adagio.  It's a musical term, pretty much explained by her subtitle: taking life slowly, one note at a time.

Yeah, my kid is totally smart and cool.

Having a child who is closer to adulthood than babyhood can be scary.  But it has been real joy for me, as she surprises me everyday with amazing new revelations about the person she is becoming.  Sometimes I look at her in wonder: is that my kid?!

She recently tried out for her school musical.  As an eighth grader who has perfect pitch and a pretty singing voice, I suspect she felt she could get a lead role.  She even turned down running cross country so she could participate.  But my dear girl falls apart when performing solo in front of a crowd.  She is more suited to orchestras and choirs, as she does not have a ham bone in her body.  So she came home in tears because she botched her audition.

She didn't get a lead part.  But 2 of her good friends did.  And she's been nothing but genuinely happy for them.  And she decided to be a team player and stick with the musical, even though she's "just in the chorus."  The only negative sentiment she has expressed is disappointment in herself for not doing as well as she could have.

What character in a thirteen year old.  Yes, I'm biased.  Who cares.  I'm still celebrating my girl, who's growing up nicely.

Gratuitous

Here she is. Miss Jovie Rae Traylor, my sister Kristy's new baby.  My new niece.

Your line is "Awwwww - isn't she adorable!" :)

The benefit of having a blog is that you can put whatever propaganda you want on it.  And I am shamelessly flaunting the cuteness of our new family member.  Because that's what aunts do.

And we are a group that celebrates baby girls, are we not?! And you should meet the newest member of the Ourselves, Reinvented community.  Although, technically, Jovie was just invented.  I don't think she needs reinventing yet. 

This is really kind of a Friday post.  Celebrating girlyness.  But I felt like celebrating on Tuesday.  

I've got more excuses where those came from;)

Sisters and Friends

Oh, oops - that other article dated today was supposed to run on "discuss articles" Monday.  But it's there now. So I'm gonna go ahead and do a celebration post today and skip Monday:) Because my sis and her family will be here, and because you already got Monday's article.

Speaking of sisters, I love sisters.  I love that I can not talk to my sisters for weeks and they don't get mad.  And things are fine, and the same.  I love that we are a ready-made posse.  I love that we can fight but I never worry that they will stop loving me and I never think of stopping loving them. I love that they are SO LOYAL. (Loyalty is a theme with me).  I love their honesty when I'm wrong and their encouragement when I'm actually getting it right.  I love their sense of humor. I love their permanency in my life.  I love that they get me.  I love them.  Tons.

I also love my friends who are like sisters.  I have a few in a few different states, including NY:) A sister friend doesn't always have to be someone we've known for forever. But her friendship is comfortable. Let's be honest - female friendship can be a mine field sometimes.  You wonder if that friend is offended, if this one feels left out, if they think you are neglecting them.  Ugh! I don't think I am particularly good at being a friend.  I can tend to forget birthdays and other important dates.  I can be offensive.  I can crawl into a hole and disappear for awhile.  I can get in moods where I over-analyze everything. So I tend not to keep acquaintance friends very well. 

But the girls who are friends like sisters - who still talk to me like it hasn't been 3 weeks, who forgive my trespasses against them, who love me for who I am, who help me be brave, who totally have my back - I love you.  Thank you.  Several of these girls read (and contribute) to this blog, and I just want you to know that even though this summer has been a blur and we have been slogging through our separate little piles of crap I still appreciate you and couldn't live without you.  I think you are amazing, inspiring, and anyone who thinks otherwise, send them my way and I'll set them straight.

Even if we don't have sisters, or sisters who are friends, we probably all have someone who is a sister friend.  And our world is inhabitable because of them.

Pools and Book Talk

Today, most of the girls from my book group met for lunch and swimming with our kids.  And to discuss our book.  The friend's house we met at is indescribably beautiful and simply should be featured in some sort of magazine.  SO great to spend a hot afternoon with girlfriends and their kids around a pool. I love it. No guys around, just girl talk and swimming without self-consciousness and laughing at the kids' antics.

The book we discussed? The Help. We decided we are all going to make it a girls' night out and see the movie as well. And guess what? Amanda will be posting our book discussion the first Friday in September on ... The Help.   You can read it, listen to it, and  *gasp* watch the movie?! I don't know if that counts....I'll leave that to Amanda to decide;)

Hope you are keeping cool and enjoying your summer.

I Feel Pretty

Whose room is this anyway? There are dress-up clothes strewn all over the bed.  My dress up clothes.  Of course, they pale in comparison to my kindergartners fluffy bejeweled gowns.  Or most other people's dress-up clothes.  I'm a stay-at-home mom/student/volunteer refugee worker.  My everyday wardrobe is not even remotely fancy.

But I get to go out with grown-ups tonight, to my favorite little Italian restaurant in town.  When discussing what to wear, one of my friends said she was just going to wear a nice pair of black pants and a shirt.  (Which is technically dressing up in my book, especially if you throw in heels).

I survey the choices on my bed.  I really wanted to wear that black pencil skirt with a cute summer blouse.  But alas, that skirt only fits me when I am in top half-marathon condition.  I can wear that skirt when my weekend runs pass the 10 mile mark.  Not quite there yet.  So it pulls just a bit too much across the butt.  There's my black denim skirt.  Aw, denim is so not dressy enough and that slit goes up a little higher than I'm comfortable with.  I'll spend half the night tugging at it.  There's the adorable Madmen-esque black and white striped skirt.  So cute.  But I'd need to run out and buy a summer shirt to match.  Hmmm. Do I have time for an impromptu shopping trip? The kindergarten program is today.

And then there's the fabulous little black dress.  It's a no-fuss sheath that tries not to be dressy.  But it just can't help it.  Even with flats.  The neckline is lower than I usually wear.  But it is the rare dress - you know - you have had one at some point in your life - when you put it on you say, "Wow! This dress is perfect for me!" Pretty good for a free hand-me-down.

That is not an every day kind of feeling for most women.  I think.  At least for me.  It's fun to once in awhile feel like singing "I Feel Pretty."  So maybe I will try to get that deodorant stain off of the hemline (how and when did that get there?) and wear it anyway.  With a scarf and ballet flats and a not dressy purse. Or at least flats. A girl has to cash in and celebrate her girlyness every once in awhile.

Or maybe I'll take the excuse to go shopping and wear the black and white skirt.  Either way, I'm going all girly tonight.

Utterly Girlish

My internet was down almost all day yesterday....

And this weekend? 

My girls have shared a room since my youngest was a baby.  When we moved, they insisted they wanted to stay together, even though we had space to split them. 

And then the oldest changed her mind.

This weekend, the split begins.  My six-year-old's room will be completed first, since she is moving into the currently non-bedroom.  The girls are getting to pick their decor. 

Little Miss has chosen pink, brown, and white.  Ruffles and poodles. Berets and the Eiffle tower. Girly sophistication. The paint names are "Chocolate Truffle,", "Utterly Pink" (WOW - I was hoping for something more muted but she was insistent) and "Du Jour."  The sheets - nothing could replicate Pottery Barn's "Paris Toile" that she fell in love with months ago.  I was NOT shelling out what PB was asking for the bedspread, however, and found a pink ruffled bedspread and tulle skirt at Target instead.  And a frilly pink lamp.  I'm re-painting (again) Molly's old dresser and toybox. I get to indulge my inner six year old too. 

Ahh, the joys of being a girl. 

My daughter said in line at the store last night, "I know this stuff is all really girly, but when it comes to adventure, I'm still all tomboy."

Pink ruffles and tulle at night, sweaty and dirty and running around by day. 

Sometimes, it's sooo good to be a girl.

If He Has to Leave Me for Someone...

Reminder: Book club discussion next Friday, one week from today on Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Speaking of eyes and God ...  I am about to reluctantly share something with you. Why reluctant? First, because it comes from the one woman on earth I am certain my husband would leave me for: Tina Fey.  Not that I've heard she's after science ed profs.  Secondly, it's probably a little inappropriate.  Third, other bloggers have posted it ad nauseum. But it made me laugh, and also hit upon some truths. It somehow seemed to fit the "celebration of girlyness" thing. It's her prayer for her daughter from her new book Bossypants. So don't read on if you don't like slightly inappropriate humor, you don't want to read this thing that's taken the web by storm again, or you don't like Tina Fey.  Because my husband would leave me for her because she's smarter and funnier than me. 

"First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.
“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen."

Good Job!

First, a reminder that a week from today we'll have our first book club discussion on Snow Flower and the Secret Fan.

Today has already been, and will continue to be, one of those that tax me like New York state does.  Nothing major, you know, just a thousand little things that require the attention and coordination and sacrifice of a, well -

woman.

We are so strong, ladies.  Think of things you made it through in your life that you never thought you could.  The big stuff.  A break up.  A death.  An illness of a loved one.  A financial catastrophe.  Then there's the smaller stuff.  That awful semester in college.  Months of a colicky baby. Weeks when it seemed like your house was going to fall apart with all the repairs that kept coming up.  Then there are the  things we do on a daily basis.  If we sat down and chronicled the details of our days we would probably be amazed at all we accomplish.

Women juggle a lot of responsibility.  We work hard.  We endure pain.  We keep going.

Congratulations on getting through this week.  Maybe you had sick kids.  Maybe your kids had you shuttling around town like a taxi cab driver.  Maybe your boss was mean and hard to please at work.  Maybe you discovered you ran out of money for the month, and darn it if March isn't the longest month of the year.  As women, we acknowledge the volume of unseen burdens we all shoulder.  No one may praise you for getting all of your laundry done this week or thank you for that little nice thing you went out of your way to do, so I will say: You did a good job this week.  The world is a better place because you are here.

Cheers!

TWO feminist articles in one week - whew! How about a glass of wine right about now? ;)

Wine is not exclusively girly by any means.  There are many men in the world who can appreciate wine.  But I am thinking of those great occasions where I was sitting in the company of dear friends, sharing a bottle of wine.  Girl talk and wine belong together. Plus, wine is just pretty. Wine bottles, the way it looks in the glass. The beauty of where the grapes grow. Wine and coffee and tea - I love them for their connection to the soil they grow in.  You can't just chemically produce those beverages.  They have history and substance and connections and tradition.

I'm not a wine expert: I like what I like.  I like New York wine. I live less than half an hour from one of the Fingerlakes of central New York.  Wine heaven.  The land is half of the charm.

*This is Lamoreaux Landings Vineyard, my favorite ever vineyard. They practice organic, sustainable farming and are pretty local to me.  And they make the best Riesling on earth.  If you've never had a Fingerlakes Riesling, you are missing out.  There's something about this region that is Riesling magic.  Actually, the magic probably happens when you are sitting on a porch sipping a glass, overlooking the sun setting over one of these gorgeous lakes and surrounding hills. 

Lamoreaux has a decent Cab Franc, but the reds of the region aren't as praiseworthy as the whites.  I've had some nice Argentinian Malbecs and a killer Spanish Rioja. My new favorite red, however, is Layer Cake Shiraz.  I'm not exclusively a red or white leaning gal.  They each have their occasions. Reds are kind of pasta/winter dinners around the table for hours wines.  Whites are grilled food/sitting on the deck until the sun sets wines. I haven't opened a white for awhile.  But I saw a few slats of my deck today, a few patches of grass in my yard, a robin, and the sun! Wine on the deck times are coming soon...

There are times when I sit and drink a glass of wine alone with a book in the evening. Or evenings when I'm cooking a big elaborate dinner when I pour a glass and turn up my music. Those aren't my favorite ways to drink wine, though.  My favorite is a bottle shared amongst friends with laughter and conversation.

What is your favorite wine or favorite wine memory?  Cheers - it's Friday!

*photos taken by my daughter Molly

The Work of Our Hands

In feminist writing, there is a lot of talk about women being creators.  Post-structuralists sort of throw this and the idea of inherent gender qualities, away from themselves.  Other feminists urge us to embrace our feminine urge to bring things to life.  I have to write a paper about all that today, but you probably don't, so I'll abandon that for a lighter discussion.

All humans, I venture to say, have been proud of something they have made with their own hands.  There is something thrilling about altering matter completely.  Women, in our culture and many others, do have the reputation for being crafty. I don't mean to connote snake-like conniving, though we're perfectly capable of that too.  I mean, we make nice stuff.  Meals, baskets, clothing, blankets, gardens, photographs, sculpture, memoirs, novels, furniture, pottery, songs, etc. Some of us are more artistic than others. Nothing I've made can ever be as high quality as mediocre fruit of my sister Kelly's hands.  Kelly says "I'm going to make an elaborate birthday cake for my son" and creates something that looks like she's gone to chef's school.  She remodeled her kitchen with her own hands.  Some of us might think "I have never made a thing I would let see the light of day!"

There must be something.  It's not about how perfect the rest of us would deem it; what does it mean to you?  Or is there a certain category of things you like to make?  Why? What is special about your creations? What about you is reflected? If it was a gift, what were you trying to convey? Do you feel joy or peace or anticipation when working on it?

I play at artistry. My cakes usually don't look exactly like the picture in the cookbook, and I think painting my kitchen and cabinets was as close to remodeling as I should come. But I still like to make things.  I like having beautiful things around me.  I like expending creative energy.

I have my friends duped into thinking I'm good at knitting.  I'm not.  I'm a one-trick pony.  But it's a nice trick. I like giving hand-knit baby gifts, if I can find the time. A baby's arrival in the world is worth the finest of celebrations, and I want my loved ones to know how precious I think their babies are. There have been exceptions - if I know your mom will present you with 50 baby items she crocheted, I'll probably buy you something else. Or if you've explicitly said "I hate homemade baby gifts," you will not receive one from me.  Otherwise, I love imagining, picking out yarn and buttons, a style that fits what Mama might like and who this baby might be.  I pray and try to knit love and good thoughts for the new little person into it.  And they usually are super cute when they turn out.  Once I entered a bunch of sweaters in a fundraising event and found I didn't like impersonally (and furiously) knitting a bunch of sweaters. Maybe I don't do as good a job unless I can personalize.

Maybe you have a project you are working on this weekend. It seems like it might be one of those March weekends better spent indoors, here.  Whatever you end up doing, I hope your creative spirit will get a little exercise.

Tea and Sympathy

Coffee is the heavy lifter in my life.  On most days, it's the beverage that starts my day with cup 1, re-fills mid morning at cup 2 and maybe 3.  Sometimes it keeps me awake for my afternoons of papers and required reading.

But tea doesn't get enough credit.  I don't even notice its pervasiveness in my life.  I have at least one cup of tea a day.  Tea sticks around when you're sick, when coffee is just too much.  Tea is the comfy warm beverage you can have in the evening.  Plus, there's something kinda...girly... about tea, to me. (DON'T tell my husband that - I just started getting him to drink tea a few years ago.  Don't tell men all over the world that either, especially the British.  Oxford guys drinking tea just might have been the catalyst to get my husband to accept tea-drinking). British teatime - how great is that?  The girls and I do after school teatime often, and I love it.  You can kind of gussy-up teatime - use fancy cups, fun little treats, and my latest obsession - honey sticks!  Or you can settle down with your favorite mug in front of the fire. I often browse teapots and admire them, wanting to splurge.

Tea has fun, inviting names too, and takes on so many forms.  Healthy green tea, traditional Earl Grey, rich and exotic chai, fun fruity herbal infusions, refreshing mint, soothing chamomile and lemon.  In the summer, you can widen the possibilities with iced tea.  Which is so more fun to drink out of lovely, real glass glasses.

Tea also lends a certain intimacy and girlyness to gatherings.  My friend Cathy sets out her teapot of tea for Monday nights and we all lean in to pour; immediately the conversation transforms from small talk to the soulful.  Many women's heart-to-hearts throughout time and across the globe occurred over a cup of tea.

Do you have favorite tea trappings - cups, pots? Do you have a favorite tea moment to share? A favorite tea? It's not easy to choose one, is it? I like Stash's mint tea and their elusive lemon blossom, which I can only find at Goodrich's in East Lansing.  The Republic of Tea's blackberry sage is a new love.  My husband and daughter have to have Celestial Seasoning's honey vanilla chamomile in the house at all times. I'm a big fan of Bigelow's Constant Comment as well.

Well, Anna and I were inspired to have a tea for breakfast.  Wish I could share a cup of tea with you too.

These Boots Are Made for ... Me!

 Today's discussion, before we get into any of the upcoming  fashion & feminism discussion:

the one wardrobe item that makes you feel like a million bucks.

  Those of you who know me well are like "Oh, brother, that girl and her stupid boots!" There is, however, one rule to this entry: you can't like it because it's the latest fashion.  You have to like it because you have a connection to it, you think it makes you look good, it makes you feel confident, you are super proud of the good deal you got, etc. 

   

I have long contended that every girl needs a pair of kick-ass boots.These are mine.  Franco Sarto, bought on consignment for 30 bucks, in great shape. They are amazingly versatile.  They make me feel like a million bucks. I think they are perfection.

When my husband broke up with me when we were dating, I promptly blew some savings on a pair of boots I loved.  I got a bunch of dates; he did not.  We ended up back together. Boots are powerful, people.  And just to make sure I'm being equal, I have offended both Christians and Feminists at this point, right? Not yet? When my kindergartner started crying about going to school, I surmised that a pair of black suede slouch boots would cure all.  They did not, but she sure looks cute in them and knows it.

No, these are not very sensible footwear for February in Central New York when it is 10 degrees and there is lots of snow and salt and ice.  But I'm Skaneateles-window-shopping-ready!

Please share with us what your favorite wardrobe item is. We are not the girls on your junior high bus, (who probably acted neither very Christian or Feminist) we will celebrate with you.  Feel fabulous this Friday!

Springy, Happy, Girly

I swear I can smell spring.  The snow is starting to melt, and if I were where you probably are my kids would be playing outside.  But, we still have a foot or so of snow to melt.  Dirty, gray, snow.  And then we'll probably get more.  BUT my thoughts are drifting toward spring and I am craving

Pretty things to look at and smell

How very girly.  We would really have to do some fast talking to get this feature past some feminists. But I will ditch the feminist word before I ditch our celebrations of girlyness.  What pretty sights and smells make you think of spring and make your heart soar? To momentarily escape endless gray?

Tulips, hands down, are the undeniable sign of spring.  They might be my favorite flower.  They only bloom for maybe two weeks and then leave an unsightly mess of rotting leaves in the garden for another two months, but they are so worth it.  I always plant them.  When they bloom, winter gets a final kick in the pants.  They are exquisitely beautiful and unlike any other flower.  I have been known, in the doldrums of winter, to sit with a bulb catalog and feast my eyes on all the different varieties.  And nothing looks more gorgeous on my dining room table than a tall vase full of gently drooping, almost open tulip buds.

Except maybe a mass of daisies in the same vase in the summer.  Daisies are abundant bloomers, easy growers, and I always plant them too.  I am a vestige of an old soul who still believes in handwritten letters on good stationary, and also planting cutting gardens.  Daisies are so happy and sunshiney with their yellow and white faces. They go with other flowers in bouquets or are pretty all by themselves. A packet of seeds is a buck and you get all that happiness all summer long.  But because I'm SUCH a sucker, if I don't have enough for a bouquet in my own patch (or can't bring myself to cut them because they look so pretty by the picket fence), I can fall to the bouquets in the farmer's market as well. I think I have passed this on to my children, because do you know what they always want me to buy in the grocery store? Flowers.  If it snows a foot again, I may indulge us.

I am also a sucker for dreamy smelling bath gel.  In one of my daughter's books, the main character, a pig named Poppleton, takes lavender and lemon silky milk baths.  The first time we read that book, we promptly went out and bought the ingredients. (http://www.thebodyshop-usa.com/aromatherapy/prod778851, and lemon essential oil).  My daughter was really little, of the age when she still had heavenly baby-smelling skin.  I used to love to wrap that silky little lavender-lemon-baby-heaven child up in a towel and inhale deeply.

I can be tempted by lesser products.  Wegman's has the best marketers.  IF by chance I must wait in line, their "since you're waiting in line..." displays are the only ones in any store where I buy things.  But they put things there like hand-dipped chocolate covered cherries and the like.  Come on.  Recently, they put bottles of Softsoap bath gel in a bin with a really low price tag. I idly picked up the different scents as I waited, and suddenly I was hooked and reeled in.  Sweet orange peel honeysuckle blossom or something like that.  I had been using bars of Ivory bought on sale, in a value pack, with a coupon, for too long.  And somehow this shower gel smelled like heaven or at least like spring or at the VERY least not like Ivory soap.  Wait - did I have a coupon?!  So now every day I relish the small joy of orange peel honeysuckle blossom in the shower.

What provides your springy, happy, pretty, girly little moments of escape? Please share them.  Everyone needs new ideas for getting through the rest of winter.

Comfy

Friday! Who wants to work on Friday? Our heads are half in the weekend.  On that note, Fridays are going to be "celebration of girlyness" days.  This may not fly as a feminist idea, but I'm going from the standpoint of the Audre Lorde article featured earlier this week, which also talks about how women need to embrace their nurturing side and nurture and celebrate one another.  I love to run faster than the boys, trust me.  But I, along with other females I know, also delight in little things most boys (not all) that I know don't even notice, let alone relish.  We can call it our icebreaker, though that's not fitting since it's at the end of the week. It's a way for us to get to know each other on a different level.  Less cerebral, but maybe not less spiritual.

I live in a frozen tundra.  Ok, no I don't.  I do live in a place that has already recorded 125 inches of snowfall this year.  We know how to do winter.  But this is a week in U.S. weather history where most of us experienced real winter, with even my friend in Arkansas experiencing ice and snow.   I thought this to be a fitting week to discuss

comfort food.

Maybe I need a lot of comfort, but I love comfort food.  Food doesn't just nourish the body; at times, it feeds the soul.  I believe this with all of my heart and so never put anything but cream in my coffee and real butter on my toast.  There's something about snowfall, dark nights, and chilly weather that make me want to put cozy soups on the table for my family. Is it some deep feminine instinct to want to provide sustenance for those we love? Or a little girl return to feeling safe and loved that we want to replicate? I drink vats of hot chocolate in the winter with mountains of whipped cream, not the fat free kind.  Usually with a homemade goodie of some kind.  I do lots of baking.  There's something about a pan of real mac and cheese being pulled out of the oven that makes me feel safe and warm and makes me feel as though I am taking good care of my family.

There are lots of good reasons not to turn to food for comfort.  Such as our hips and our hearts (as machines, not the seat of emotions).  We all like to take a little pleasure in our grandmother's secret recipe sometimes.  We connect some of our best memories to food shared with those we love (or ourselves, our comfy couch, and a good book).

What are some of your favorite comfort foods? (This is not the time for touting your vegetable consumption!)  Or better yet, what are some of your favorite comfort food memories?

Mine? Whenever we have another family over for a Saturday supper out on our deck.  My husband is a master griller, New York has the best summer wines, produce is in season and tastes good, with some berry or other perfectly ripe for picking and tucked neatly into pastry and served with ice cream.  Adults sit for hours in the breezy, warm sunlight that hangs on for hours and kids chase fireflies and each other.

Saturday morning big breakfasts, especially when I have overnight company.  Waffles or pancakes, bacon, lots of coffee, and no hurry to get anywhere.

One time, my friend Courtney and I skipped lunch and had a 10 dollar sundae, the height of decadence.  But also the height of comfort.

These are just a few.  But I don't want to bore you all day.  I want to hear yours.  Happy Friday - and eat a little comfort food on this cold and snowy night:)