New England Living

A Moody Day in Boston

2011-10-03T15:04:00.000-04:00

Our internet has been out for about two weeks. Long story (let's just say we're not big fans of comcast customer service), but we finally got it back today. I've been wanting to post, as I've been backlogged with photos and thoughts, but for today I'm just posting quickly about our weekend.

Generally, I love rainy days, especially in October. Moody weather in October is perfect for sparking the Halloween spirit. However, on the weekends, I prefer sunny weather to get out with the family and enjoy the autumn atmosphere. Our weekend plans were to go apple picking and to visit Castle in the Clouds in Moultonborough, NH, but with continual rain, I did not feel like going mucking around in mud to pick apples. I love the outdoors, but am not a dirty outdoors kind of girl. Change of plans and it was to Boston we went instead! This is exactly why I wanted to move near Boston - so that during inclement weather, particuarly in the winter, we would have a big city near us and would have easy access to museums.

We have a membership to the Museum of Science, which I recommend if you ever find yourself in Boston, so we spent some time there. The museum itself straddles the cities of Boston and Cambridge and its got an amazing view of the Charles River.

Another thing I love about moody weather - taking photos of moody skies!

We also went traipsing around the city.

Part of my family walking the streets of Boston.

And we hit Quincy Market for some Italian ice and ice cream.

Thank you, Boston, for saving our rainy weekend! I am in love with this city.

(All photos taken by iphone 4 and edited with iphone apps)

Life At The Farmhouse

2011-09-15T12:42:00.000-04:00

Life has changed at the old farmhouse in the last few weeks. My children started school, and for the first time in 14 years, I do not have a child home with me most of the day. My fourth baby started 1st grade this year, and my first baby started high school. It feels like a new stage in life for me. It's a new era and I'm excited to explore what my life is going to be from now on.

My youngest guy walking home through a puddle on a rainy day after getting off the school bus. (taken with iphone)

I've spent many days, since the start of school, pondering my next steps. Life has changed so much, not only this milestone of all of the kids in school, but a new house, a new state, and a new career for my husband - a career which takes him on the road much of the time. I am left with this odd sense of freedom and time and trying to figure out what exactly I should be doing with it.

I've explored pursuing photography - going back to school, studying it, and make a career of it, but the only way to make money being a photographer is to take portraits and I don't like taking portraits. I prefer landscapes, architecture, and taking pictures of people as life is happening in candid moments. I don't like setting up shots and telling people how to pose. It's just not something I enjoy. So, photography will just remain a really fun hobby. Besides photography, I have explored getting a degree in early American history. I've explored pursuing many, many of my interests. However, it came down to this, on my death bed, what would I regret not doing? There was only one thing, and it sprang immediately to mind. The one thing I would regret not doing is pursuing my writing. I've said that I've wanted to be a writer since I was 5. It is part of my soul and I must go after it. Even if I am never published, I must try. That's all that matters.

I've thought about writing a memoir, which is something that has been on my mind for a couple of years now. I've always wanted to reach out and help fellow survivors of childhood abuse. I've also thought about writing straight fiction, or a combination of both - my true story interwoven into a fictional story. I haven't come to a conclusion quite yet, but something strange happened as I was pondering all of this last week. I suddenly had the thought that I needed to find out the history of my house, the history of the people who lived here. I had the sense that the answer to my writing may lie in discovering the mysteries of this house.

No one could quite tell me the history of this house or exactly when it was built. However, the owners of this home from 1976-2009 left a big, fat folder of paperwork pertaining to this house. To make a long story short, after contacting my town's historical society and going through paperwork and information on the web, I discovered that the man who built our house was Deacon John Craig (deacon in the presbyterian church for 30 years) who lived from 1762 to 1837. I also discovered that our house once sat 2 miles from here in a neighboring town and was moved to its current location in 1976. His wife was named Janet or Jenet, spelling varies from record to record. Her maiden name was Gilmore, which means that this house originally belonged to a Gilmore girl! He was 9 years her senior and they married in 1794, and at least 4 of their babies were born in my home. Not only was he a deacon in the church, but he also served on the board of selectmen of his town and in records he was called a yeoman. Doesn't that sound positively medieval? In 18th and 19th century America, a yeoman was a small family farmer. He was a dairy farmer and most likely farmed fruit, as well. So, my house is an honest-to-goodness farmhouse! Something I've always wanted. Everyone that lived in this house was listed as a farmer at least through the early 20th century.

I still do not know the date of construction, but through a lot of research I believe it was built in the early 1790's, though I still plan on researching until I find out for sure. The odd thing about all of this is that I discovered a plethora of information about John last Saturday, the 10th. All of this information just came pouring out on that day. Then, at the end of the day, I found out the date of his birth. It was September 10th, the exact same day! It was John's 249th birthday when I found out all about him. Gave me the chills. I also found out where he was buried. So, on Sunday we visited him in a quaint old graveyard, surrounded by lush green farmland, and wished him a happy birthday.

(taken with iphone)

I am now addicted and plan to dig deeper into the history of my home and the people who spent their lives in it. I feel that it will lead to something, and if nothing else I feel a deeper bond to those people who loved my home; who lived here, who were born here, and who died here.

After: The Great Room

2011-08-17T19:48:00.007-04:00

I'm finally back! Whew, it's been an intense couple of months. Any free moment was spent painting, painting, oh and more painting. And let's not forget the striping of hardware. That is some intense, detailed work. With all this work, I have totally neglected blogging, both writing and reading. Let's just say blogging isn't the only thing I've neglected...I try to avoid making eye contact with the beast that has become my looming pile of dirty laundry.

So, in my last post, I mentioned that I turned what is normally used as a dining room in old cape homes into a great room. I really liked the idea of having the tv room be a part of the kitchen. It brings the family closer together and the person cooking doesn't feel so cut off from everyone else. Besides, there is another dining room and I didn't see the sense of having two dining spaces. I mean, how much of your day do you actually spend dining, anyway? Here's the first shot:

This first photo was taken from the kitchen looking all the way through to the mudroom (the mudroom is still a work-in-progress, as you can see from the blue tape still on the window panes). Where the wood stove once was, now our tv and entertainment center reside. I was originally thinking of painting the walls a light olive, but felt it needed a warm color, like this gold, to balance out the cool tones of the painted black and white floor. I love it! If you look at my last post, you'll see that the walls were an odd sort of clay color and the windows and baseboards were teal. Very strange and ugly combination.

Painting the walls was a totally different experience. There is only one short wall made of drywall, but the rest is 200 year old horizontal, floor-to-ceiling wood paneling. So different than anything we had worked with before, but I found it fascinating.

We painted these old built-ins an ivory color. Before they were the same clay color as the walls. I also kind of dig having the tv hanging on the brick. I adore the contrasting textures.

This is the view from the mudroom. We will ultimately gut the kitchen and make it amazing, but with my husband just starting his own business, it's best to wait until next year to be sure all remains financially stable. In the meantime, we will paint the cabinets a deep, country red.

Ollie managed to get his cute, little hiney into this shot. Maybe he just wanted to model with his new digs. But the point of this shot is the door. This is one of the doors I worked on, endlessly, to strip the antique hardware of paint. It was all painted white before I scrubbed and scrubbed and steamed and chipped and picked all that white paint away from the beautiful ironwork. Here's a close-up of the door latch:

This is a closer shot of the horizontal wood paneling. I love the big slabs of uneven wood. Oh, and I bought these wall hangings from etsy back in December. They are printed on old dictionary pages. Two represent my husband and two represent me. Any guesses as to which goes with whom?

I found this amazing Boston subway sign last month. I'm completely in love with it. This shot also gives you a sneak peak into the living room, which I finished painting and decorating very recently. Can't wait to show you that room!

Life has been extremely hectic since making the move to southern New Hampshire, but we have managed to take some really fun day trips too. We've been up to Lake Winnipesaukee and also up to Maine. We've gone into Boston and Salem. Being so close to places like these is the reason we moved up here in the first place and we wouldn't dare let this summer come to a close without taking full advantage. Now I'm looking forward to another stunning New England fall and to dolling my home up in its autumn glory.

Checkerboard Floors

2011-07-27T17:55:00.004-04:00

When we first walked through what is now our home, I was completely unimpressed with the colors, the decor, the outdated kitchen and bathrooms, the worn out floor in the kitchen/great room, and the painted over antique hardware. However, I'm one of those people who easily sees potential and I have no problem looking past the cosmetic fixes. I saw the 200 year old wainscoting, wood planked walls, exposed beams, gunstock corners, and wide plank pine floors. And the first thing I thought when I saw the worn out kitchen/great floors was, "YES! I finally get to do the wood checkerboard floors I've been dreaming about for years!"

I first fell in love with wood checkerboard floors when I saw them in a New England magazine, done beautifully in a historic home in Connecticut. I totally coveted them, but in my 1970's house, with it's ugly ceramic tile floors, I didn't see it happening. Then this sweet old cape came into my life and here we are! I did research on wood checkerboard floors after first seeing them, and that's when I found out American colonists were painting their floors as early as the 1700's. They didn't stain and and varnish their wood floors like we do. They either left them raw or they painted them and they often painted patterns. One pattern they favored was the checkerboard, to mimic the marble floors in grand estates in their native Europe.

We didn't paint our entire house in checkerboard. We only painted the long room in back, which is our kitchen, family room, and mudroom. Here's a before shot of the kitchen/great room:

The floors were rough and worn and the floors in the kitchen were just raw, dirty wood. The first thing we did was to remove the wood stove because it came so far out into the room that it would have been impossible to set up our family room in this space if we had left it.

Since this photo was taken, we also painted the walls a lovely gold color, the windows and baseboards have been painted ivory. We plan to do a complete remodel of the kitchen, but until then we will be painting the cabinets a deep red color. We also plan to knock out the popcorn ceilings and expose more beams in the family room.

See what I mean? Rough shape! I can see why it took so long for the owners to sell this house. A lot of people can't look past a lot of cosmetic work, but if you can, you can get a pretty sweet deal!

After removing the wood-burning stove, we painted the entire floor ivory. We used an oil-based floor paint, which was recommended because the oil-based is more durable. Thank goodness we painted the floors before we moved in, however, because the fumes were very strong.

So here it is all white. Then my husband went to work measuring out the squares and penciling them in. That's the one part he did by himself since my mathematical skills leave much to be desired. After the penciling in, we blue taped the entire floor.

The taping was quite a job! Actually, the entire process was quite a job. After we were done my husband said he'll never do that again, and I don't blame him. Not only was it labor intensive, it took several weeks to cure. But it was worth it! These floors truly make the room.

And after we pulled up the tape, this is what we got:

And look, my apron was made to to go with these floors! :)

As I said, we've since painted walls and trim and have the furniture moved in. I will post pictures after we finish the touch up work this weekend.

This Old Cape

2011-07-01T21:23:00.010-04:00

I can't believe that it's been nearly 3 weeks since moving day. I naively thought I'd be back to blogging within a week, but instead I still sit amongst stacked boxes and cans of paint. This has been one of the more difficult settling-in phases for us as we are not only attempting to unpack our things, but also restoring old hardware and painting every surface. We haven't even gotten into the major remodeling stuff yet, but if you add up all the small things we must do it is moumental. However, most importantly, we did manage to paint the wood floors in the kitchen, family room, and mudroom in a black and ivory checkerboard. It turned out beyond expectation, and I will share it on my blog next week. Is it possible to be completely head-over-heels, in love with a floor? Because I do believe that I am!

For now, I'm posting this photo I took of our front door light with my iphone. This is a prime example of what I love about this house. All of the antique detailing makes my heart go all aflutter! This is the sweet, antique cape cottage I've been dreaming of, set in the sweet New England village I've been dreaming of, and I still feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure this is real.

I wish you all a wonderful July 4th holiday! As for us, we will try to balance between working on the house, but also indulging in our town's celebrations and grilling up some Fenway Franks.

A front/side shot of my house taken with my iphone. I love that day lilies are all over my land!

Moving Day

2011-06-10T03:30:00.000-04:00

Well, this last week has been exciting, stressful, lacking in sleep, and overwhelming. I feel very blessed, but until we are moved, my anxiety is set to intense mode. In about 6 hours, movers will be showing up to our house and we're not what you'd call completely ready. There is still stuff strewn about, things that have managed to avoid being boxed yet. This week I've been rushing, dealing with all the stuff by trying to box it, bag it, or throw it out as quickly as possible, all during record-breaking heat and humidity no less. Oh, and did I mention we live in an un-air conditioned house?

On top of finishing up what feels like endless packing, we have also spent a lot of time up at the New Hampshire house painting our kitchen/great room wood floor in a black and ivory checkered pattern (so excited). This was in hopes that it would be done before move-in day. It won't be done. Apparently, floor paint takes a lot longer than normal latex paint to dry. Though it won't be complete before movers and our 4 kids tromp through the house, at least we are a bit ahead than if we had started after move-in.

I haven't taken many pictures of the new place yet. Each trip up there has been harried and rushed, but I did manage snapping a quick shot, with my blackberry, of the very wide, pine plank floors in our dining room.

I poked my foot in the photo for visual comparsion. Don't those nearly 2-foot wide planks make my feet look like they belong to a toddler? I have falled in love with these floors. They are uneven and creaky and have seen over 200 years of history. The nails used to hammer these big boys down are hand forged and not one looks like another. Have I mentioned I'm in love with this place?! And don't worry, these aren't the floors we are painting. The ones we are painting are not wide planks and were in rough shape, with peeling paint, before we took our roller brush to them.

I haven't been visiting blogland for over a week now, with all the moving prep, and won't be back out in the virtual world until the end of next week when our internet will finally be hooked up at the new place. Looking forward to reconnecting with all of you and please wish us luck!

Mystic

2011-06-02T21:00:00.003-04:00

Nearly 6 years ago, our entirely native west coast family, moved across the country, to a place we've never been, all because my husband was offered a job and we were ready for an adventure. I am an adventurous type, who has been known to be somewhat impulsive, but even I was a bit unsure and scared. However, I am so glad we took that leap. We love New England and the thought of ever again becoming a west coast family is very unappealing and something we actively avoid. Our hearts have been planted here, and here we will stay. We are truly converted New England yankees.

But we are not staying in Connecticut. We are moving into the heart of New England, into New Hampshire, in only a week. As a way of saying goodbye to our years in Connecticut, we took an impromptu trip to Mystic over Memorial Day weekend. Ahhh, Mystic...it was the very first day trip we ever took after moving here all those years ago. Our eldest was only 8 years old and our youngest was a baby in a stroller the first time we went. Now, we are parents of an incoming high school freshman and our baby is heading into 1st grade. It's been a couple of years since we'd been back, and it felt like a full circle moment - the first day trip is now our last day trip before moving on.

Adam and I at Mystic Pizza - my FAVORITE pizza in all of Connecticut! Here, Adam tries to give me bunny ears, but his arm just isn't long enough. And yes, "Mystic Pizza" the movie, is based on this place.

After pizza, we ate at Mystic Drawbridge Ice Cream.

Mystic is a quaint, historic seaport town. The picturesque downtown is filled with one-of-a-kind shops, mostly filled with with beautiful ocean and shore themed decor and souvenirs. We will miss our trips to the shops, the aquarium, and the seaport, not to mention the pizza.

The drawbridge

Two of my kids walking around the seaport stores.

A tugboat and ivy.

Goodbye, Mystic! Goodbye, Connecticut! Our time here has been life-changing and precious. Now, onto our New Hampshire adventure and onto discovering new places and towns that we will make new memories in.

3 Weeks and Counting

2011-05-20T15:44:00.006-04:00

Only 3 weeks until moving day! Closing day is June 1st, but the big moving day is in 3 weeks. The movers have been called and scheduled (much cheaper in New Hampshire than in Connecticut, by the way), boxes are packed to the ceiling in nearly every room, full of our earthly goods, walls and mantles have been un-decorated, and kids' medical records have been picked up, ready for our new hometown and state. We're doing pretty good at this preparation thing, which is quite surprising due to my disorganized and procrastinating nature.

I've even ordered these in preparation:

Aren't these Sperry wellies cute? Why did I feel the need to buy these so far in advance for our new house, you ask? Well, rain has been on the mind of most New Englanders lately. I believe this has been nearly record-breaking for wettest spring ever. As the rain, rain, rain has come down, down, down, I realized that we are moving to a house on 6 (most likely soggy, at this point) acres on a large pond. We have a detached garage, which I will have to walk through nature to get to, and, to top it off, our driveways are gravel, not paved! That will be remedied eventually, but for now I'm imaging our driveways full of giant shoe-ruining puddles. These boots will come in handy trudging to my car and back, not to mention taking the dog out to do his business. But, you know, any excuse to shoe shop, even if only for rainboots, will not be overlooked by me.

If only all moving preparation were this fun. However, even the most annoying of moving chores is ok by me because I'm so excited to start our lives in our sweet, historic house in New Hampshire.

It's Official!

2011-05-10T12:58:00.010-04:00

We bought a home! We ended up buying a house in the first little village we looked at in New Hampshire in February. The moment we drove into that little town, we both felt at home. It just felt right. We did check out other towns, just to be sure, but nothing else felt the same. It was simply perfect for us - a close 45 minutes to Boston, but far enough out to be in a country setting. Even though the main reason to move up there was to be much closer to Boston, I've never desired to live in one of the more urban-like or suburban-like towns that surround the city. I feel like where we chose is the best of both worlds - quick and easy access to my favorite city, but in a quiet, quintessential New England village.

It was an extremely anxiety-filled few months for me, as we tried to figure out the best route to take in moving to a new state - to rent or to buy. Every month we took trips up there to meet with realtors and to see our options. We finally found my dream home. It was a 200 year home on nearly 6 acres on waterfront. Pure heaven! It has been my fantasy for several years to buy an antique home and to restore it, and this house was absolutely perfect for that. It ended up taking well over a month of negotiating and going through times where we had to step back and try to figure out if we were even comfortable buying a home since my husband is just starting up his own business. But, FINALLY, in the end, it worked out and we bought the place! I cannot even explain the relief that it's all just over with and done.

The house is an antique cape. Even though it is a cape, with its beam and post construction and center chimney and back keeping room, it is quite large than is typical, at nearly 3700 square feet. There is an addition on the house that used to be the first school house in a neighboring town, built in the 1700's, but will now act as our master bedroom. Also, a previous owner, lifted the house off its foundation and built a walk-out basement underneath the home, which adds a lot of space. There is also an additional bedroom and bathroom attached to our detached garage, which is exactly what we needed for my husband to run his new company in a room away from the main living space.

And, oh, all the renovating and decorating ideas I have dancing through my head right now! I'm already having fun with it and we haven't even moved in! One of my first plans I've decided on is to paint the wood floors in the kitchen and the great room in a checkerboard pattern (which is actually historically accurate), similar to this:

Only I will use more of an ivory or cream than a bright white. Here's another example:

I would stay with the more traditonal black, but I do love how they made these floors look rustic and worn.

And then, of course, I have so many other plans for kitchen renovation and painting, etc. I can't wait until we get in there and I can get my mitts on the place. I won't have to wait long either since our closing date is June 1st! We probably won't be fully moved in until mid-June, but I'm very pleased that the time is fast approaching.

Just A Drop in the Bucket

2011-04-06T13:00:00.007-04:00

But at least it's a start!

1 house + 6 people + nearly 5 years = a whole lot of junk crammed into every nook and cranny! It's going to take about a million more of these boxes to get this house packed, but each box I've been able to fill, tape, and mark up with a permanent marker gives me a small sense of triumph and lessens my anxiety by giving me back a tiny bit of control over this whole process. A process that includes not only moving, but also taking on the life-altering change of self-employment.

I know it may seem crazy that I've begun to pack boxes, seeing as how we have no idea exactly when we're moving or where exactly we're moving to, but moving is beastly and overwhelming and I'm trying to make this as painless as possible. But let's face it, no matter how much prep you do moving is always a frantic, harried affair that will drive you mad. Oh well, at least it's making me feel better to be doing something rather than nothing.

This weekend may answer a lot of questions for us, as we make yet another trip up to New Hampshire. If all goes as I hope, by this time next week a moving date and place will be set. If not, we will keep looking. Funny thing - only two months ago I could never imagine leaving this place...now I can never imagine staying. My heart and soul are divorced from this house and town now and it's time to move on! Strange how things can so quickly change.

New Hampshire Search

2011-03-29T11:02:00.014-04:00

Where do I begin? Our whole lives are changing and every day brings new developments and surprises. I feel like I'm constantly in a state of high alert and deep thought. For the last several weeks I have been overwhelmed with anxiety about a myraid of things in my life, not the least of which is our move. At the same time that we are throwing ourselves into deciding what to do with our house here in Connecticut and where would be a good place to settle with our kids, my husband is also starting his own business! Man, that is stressful. He's going to have to give up his company car, so we have to worry about purchasing another car and dealing with setting up our own health insurance and all the crazy details that go into being self-employed. But my husband has some great contacts and has felt inspired constantly on how to go forward with this brave, new venture. Over the past several days I have also felt much more calm. I feel very strongly that this is what we are supposed to do and that the decisions we have made are right. Now to just deal with all the million, little details!

A couple of weeks ago, we took a real estate shopping trip up to New Hampshire. I forgot to bring my camera, but I pulled a couple of photos from the realtors' websites (excuse the photo quality). The first one we saw I had the greatest hope for because it was built in 1774. It has been a dream of mine to own and fix up an antique property.

This was a beautiful home on 3 acres set on a pristine, picturesque road. However, the way it was set up would not work for our family. The bedrooms were a bit of a problem, and no basement to expand in to. Though this house wouldn't work for us, we did learn that we really do want a historical house. We love the quirkiness of them, the creaks of the old wood, and the quality of craftsmanship. My poor 6'3" husband did have to duck through a few doorways, but that doesn't seem to be enough to steer him away from purchasing an antique home. Then we saw another home in a different town, a little further out of the way. It was built in 1930 and it was stunning!

The problem with this home was location. It would have fit our family of 6 perfectly and it was beautifully updated, but it was just a little too far out, a little too far from Boston. I learned my lesson. When we went to New Hampshire back in February, we both felt very peaceful and happy about that one little town with its village green mentioned in my last post. It felt like home, and we don't need to look anywhere else.

After these two homes, we saw several others built in the 1970's. They were very nice homes, but we've decided that we will only consider purchasing an historic house, even if that means that we have to rent a house while searching out our little piece of history. This weekend or next, we are going back to look at a home built in the early 1800's set on 6 acres. It does need some work, but we enjoy that. It sits on that same quaint road as the first historical house we saw, so we already know we love the neighborhood. Wish us luck!

Boston Bound

2011-03-02T11:55:00.003-05:00

I've neglected this little blog for far too long. I'm a little more than sick of heading to my blog and being greeted by my Christmas stockings and decor. Nothing strikes up anxiety and stress in me more than seeing those kinds of images when it isn't December. So, it is time for me to start filling this blog again with my current thoughts and images.

A couple of things kept me away from here. For one, I was waiting for my birthday (which was 2 days ago) because I knew I'd be getting my handy, little netbook as one of my gifts. I really could not bear using my other laptop anymore. I haven't surfed the web or read blogs in months because I hated carrying around that beast (which had no battery power left to speak of) to use as my main computer. Well, now I have my cute little, pearl white computer, small enough to stick in my purse, and I am once again connected.

Aside from my computer issues, I've also had a big change that has consumed me. For several weeks, we've been dealing with a big decision and its been a little gut-wrentching. Well, it looks like we're moving! And it's a good thing. It's scary and stressful, but also exciting and thrilling. It is also a bit unexpected. So, I've been trying to process it for awhile now, and helping my children process it as well. And, no, I won't need to change the name of this blog. I'm a thoroughly converted Yankee! But we will be leaving southern New England for northern New England. It's been a dream of mine for awhile to live nearer to Boston. But I am not an urban girl. I crave the New England countryside, with easy access to my beloved city as well. We've done some research, gotten some recommendations, and taken trips to scout out towns as well. As it turns out, southern New Hampshire is seeming to fit the bill for our needs and lifestyle.

On this blog, I won't mention the name of potential towns that we are moving to for safety's sake, but I'm sure a few locals will recognize familiar landmarks. During our recent scouting trip, we fell in love with a quaint, little town and when I saw the village green, Gilmore Girls immediately sprang to mind. It was gorgeous. Even with the village green being more white than green at the moment, it was stunning. I can only imagine it in its summer or autumn glory. Every building and home that surrounded the center of town was antique and well-maintained. An old, uniquely New England graveyard dotted the hill behind town hall. Simply New England. Though we haven't decided for sure where we'll end up up there, this town is definitely our favorite so far. Above is a photo of the Congregational church that stands prominently, facing the green.

My family walking past the nearly 200 year old town hall.

One of the beautiful homes on the town green.

The kids "ice-skating" around a tree in the green.

Side of town hall and the gate to the old graveyard, dressed in its seasonal finery.

A rustic, quaint wood street sign set against an 18th century house.

With this most recent development, we realized that there is a definite pattern in our 15 year marriage. Every 4-5 years we take on a major, life-altering change (besides having the 4 babies, of course) and it has been 4 years since we bought this house and 5 years since we moved across the country to Connecticut. So, I guess we are due. It's a good thing that I have an adventurous spirit and thrive in an environment of change. Now to get the kids on board and to get this packed-to-the-brim house boxed up by this summer!

Decking the Halls, Part II

2010-12-22T13:20:00.001-05:00

This post comes a bit late, but Christmas time is overwhelming! I've never been so busy. With out-of-town guests, holiday concerts, Christmas decorating, shopping for 4 children and a husband (and myself, if I'm going to be completely honest), shopping for other family members, making gifts for teachers and friends, baking and candy making, and taking time to celebrate our particular traditions at this time of year has been a little more than exhausting. Every year I so appreciate the calm and laziness of Christmas day after the marathon of insanity. Christmas afternoon will usually find me in a 2 hour coma in my bed. I know many of you can relate and will also be joining me in a Christmas coma!

And so, now we move on to the living room, where the kids' stockings are hung by the chimney with care...

This year I bought the kids new stockings, bigger stockings, and I love them because of their country, homemade look. They look like something a talented grandma would knit, a grandma with a surplus of yarn that went a little nuts.

Not only have I finally figured out (duh!) that your holiday decor should match the feel and style of your normal decor, but I also think it's important to keep the same theme throughout the house. So, I used oranges and cloves, also called orange pomanders, throughout my house and I used the same ribbon in every room. I think it adds to the flow and consistency of the home.

Hope is not the normal motto you see on Christmas, but I thought it fit the spirit of the season perfectly, at least for me.

I love the use of natural elements, so I added bundles of cinnamon sticks around my house and made liberal use of pinecones. While I used pinecones in their natural state in my casual family room, for my slightly more formal living room I spray painted the pinecones a matte gold and used them on the mantle and in the Christmas tree.

I recently just acquired this beautiful piece of art from Julie over at The Ruby Nest. I have a few of her pieces and I love them all. I was excited to add this to my holiday mantle, especially with its splash of red.

A view from the other side of the living room, in which a reflection of our tree sparkles in the mirror. I also placed pinecones and ribbon wrapped cinnamon sticks on top of the piano.

More gilded pinecones and because I ran out of cloves, I simply wrapped this orange with a ribbon like a present.

And, finally, my Christmas living room at night.

I used the same ribbon on my tree as I did in every other room.

Merry Christmas, everyone, and if you are as lucky as I, may you enjoy your Christmas day coma as well!

Decking The Halls, Part I

2010-12-07T15:33:00.008-05:00

I love decorating for the holidays, at least for the fall and winter holidays, but oddly enough, I have always hated my Christmas decorations. Strange, since I am the one that has bought them over the years. The problem has been that I've always bought the shiny, glitzy ribbon and decor that seems to scream It's Christmas Time in the City because that stuff seems to demand your attention in the store. The problem is that the everyday decor I lean more toward is the country, the rustic, the cottage look, so my house looked ill-at-ease in its glitzy, glittery winter finery. I needed more of a It's Christmas Time in the Country look. So, before I went out and bought all new stuff, I reevaluated what my tastes are, what I'm drawn to, and I realized that the Christmas look I adore the most is what you see in the historical homes around here, like how the Mark Twain House in Hartford is adorned. I love how more natural elements are used and things look more homemade and from nature. I wanted a more rustic Christmas!

So, that's just what I did. I went to Michael's and TJ Maxx for most of my decor, but I also hit the grocery store. I bought two bags of oranges and two canisters of whole cloves. For hours, I made designs in my oranges with my cloves and it was so much fun. Now every room on my main level is filled with a spicy, warm orange and clove scent. Heavenly!

For today, I'll share pictures of my decked out family place mantle. I would show pictures of my tree, my living room mantle, and more, but we have out-of-town guests coming tomorrow and I don't have the time just now, but I will next week.

Our living room fireplace is where you'll find the kids' stockings, but our family room fireplace is where you'll find mom's and dad's. That is why there are only 2 here. By the way, you'll have to excuse the ugly wood putty you see in any of these pics on the crown moulding. We are finishing up our family room remodel tonight and all touch up paint will be done shortly. Thank goodness! We've been working on this remodel for a few months and we are ready to be done, but it's been so worth it. I will share before and after pictures of that after our guests leave.

It was fun getting creative with the clove designs, even spelling out Christmas messages on the oranges.

Here you see another cloved orange and some faux-fruit I bought at Michael's that is made to look as if it is sugared. Also, here is the more countryified ribbon than the glitzy ones that used to adorn my holiday mantle. I also added cinnamon-scented pinecones to the garland.

I love my new Santa, with his chenille beard, and here is also where I put my apple cider scented candle in its punched metal cup.

I've had so much fun putting this year's Christmas look together. It is definitely more me and I'm happy that I now won't be anxiously looking forward to New Year's so I can take down the holiday decorations that were clearly misfits in my home. Onto part 2 next week! Hope everyone is enjoying this holiday season, and if it has snowed where you are, then I'm jealous! I'm anxiously awaiting our first snow, but there is none in the forecast.

My Favorite Christmas Tradition of All

2010-12-02T12:30:00.004-05:00

Yes, it's true, autumn is my favorite season, but I am a lover of all seasons. I get as giddy as a child at the signs of a every coming season. Maybe it's because I grew up in northern California where aside of the extreme heat of the summer and a lot of rainfall in January, there wasn't much change between the seasons. I don't ever recall noticing changing fall foliage because there weren't many trees, and as much as I wished for a winter with snow, my world never became covered in a blanket of the white, sparkling stuff. I am a person who loves change, I thrive off of it in fact, and now I get to live in a place where, every 3 months, the world changes clothes.

And while I am still awaiting the first snowfall of the season, which around these parts usually happens mid-December, I am indulging in some of my favorite Christmas traditions. Afterall, the first signs of winter come at the same time we take our first sip of egg nog, wrap our homes in festive strings of light, unwrap our first peppermint sticks, and cut down our yearly Christmas trees. Like many of you, that is just what we did over Thanksgiving weekend; we picked out our Christmas tree, and since we are strictly all about having a real tree, we went to a Christmas tree farm just across the border in Massachusetts. Won't you join us?

We start out on our search. All in a row...

We search through row after row...

Not quite ready to commit, we continue on...

So many to choose from...

We tested out each contender...

And then we find the one that will take home and adopt as our own...

So Russ must get to work...

TIMBER...

Now to cut off the superfluous branches...

And now we are off, to the farm's barn for each of us to claim our much-earned cup of hot cocoa...

Whatever holiday you celebrate this season, I hope you all get to participate in your own much-loved traditions and spend time with the ones you love!

Pumpkins Scream In The Dead of Night

2010-10-20T12:23:00.003-04:00

For pottage and puddings and custards and pies, Our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies, We have pumpkins at morning and pumpkins at noon, If it were not for pumpkins we should be undoon." -
Pilgrim verse, circa 1633

Oh, how I adore pumpkins; not only for the fact that, apparently, pumpkins helped my pilgrim and native American ancestors survive through some harsh winters, but also because they are the supreme symbol of the season I adore most. A fall without pumpkins would be depressing, indeed, nearly as disheartening as a fall without glorious foliage.

Do you remember how I bemoaned the absence of pumpkins when we celebrated Halloween in April? That is when I realized that nothing can take its place. What is there not to love about this gorgeous gourd? First of all, color! When it comes to my favorite color, I'm pretty split between red and orange. Orange is fiery and festive and happy. It is like a bright orb that screams, "fall is here! Let's party!" Then there is that lovely texture and feel of the pumpkin. It adds that organic element to fall decor that you can't get from lights and metal or paper witches. Then there are the jack o'lanterns! I love the planning and choosing what I'll carve. The candlelight illuminating spooky images on bright pumpkins is mesmerizing. And, of course, after the carving is over, seeds are gathered and I soak them, dry them, salt them, and roast them in the oven. I'm salivating just thinking about those precious, once-yearly treats.

Last Saturday we went to our local pumpkin patch. Part of the farm sits within my town limits and the other half sits in our neighboring town. This farm has been in operation since 1666 (oh, how I adore living in the countryside, especially historical countryside) and it's gorgeous, with lovely views of the early 20th century tower our town is known for, as you can see from my above photo. Martha Stewart has also been known to go to this farm to pick her yearly strawberries, as she has mentioned on her show. (I wonder if she really picks strawberries. I have a hard time imaging that. Overseeing someone else picking strawberries for her sounds a bit more believable).

So, in the spirit of my love of pumpkins, I thought I'd share a few pumpkin facts.

My honey and two younger ones on the hayride to pick their pumpkins.

Fact #1 - The original pumpkin pie is nothing like we know today. Centuries ago, early settlers to North America (pumpkins orginated in North America, in case you didn't know) made the pie by hollowing out the pumpkin to use as the crust. Then they filled it with cream, various spices, eggs, and honey. They would then place the pumpkin top back on and bury it in the hot ash of a cooking fire.

Fact #2 - Bumpkin is derived from the word pumpkin. New Englanders were sometimes called pumpkins or pumpkinheads because pumpkins were a large staple of their diets and also because hollowed out pumpkins were often used as templates for haircuts. Eventually, the word evolved to bumpkin.

Me in the foreground and my 4 kids scattered throughout.

Fact #3 - Though Boston is now known as Beantown, long ago its nickname was once Pumpkinshire.

Fact #4 - In home remedies of the past, pumpkins were recommended for removing freckles and curing snake bites.

3 of my kids search for the perfect orb for jack o'lanterns.

David had his eye on a very specific pumpkin.

Fact #5 - The Connecticut field variety pumpkin is one of the oldest in existence and is the traditional pumpkin we all use for making jack o'lanterns. (Go Connecticut!)

Fact #6 - Pumpkins are fruit!

Russ pointing out some more pumpkin possibilities to the kids.

Others at the patch picking their pumpkins.

Fact #7 - Long before any Europeans made their way to this continent, Native Americans roasted strips of pumpkins over a fire and used them as a sustaining food source. They also dried strips of pumpkins and wove them into mats.

Fact #8 - Pilgrims and early colonists were known to make pumpkin beer.

A closer view of the tower in our town. You can hike up to it and look out the top inside of the building and are able see into a few different states on a clear day.

Fact #9 - Using a pumpkin to make a jack o'lantern is an American tradition.

Fact #10 - Pumpkin ridges are called ribs.

Adam with his choice.

Fact #11 - The tradition of setting jack o'lanterns in windows and outside the home came from the old Celtic belief that the dead can walk the earth on All Hallow's Eve. Bonfires were often used to scare away wandering spirits. Now we use jack o'lanterns for that purpose. So, don't blow out the jack o'lantern candle until after midnight! Otherwise, you may be welcoming an malevolent spirit into your home.

Fact #12 - My favorite ghost story of all time features a pumpkin prominently in the tale. Any guesses as to what story that is?

(P.S. Title of this post is taken from Nightmare Before Christmas. Best Halloween/Christmas movie ever!)

A Fall Day Around My Town

2010-10-15T14:00:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I spent the afternoon at a friend's house. The day started out bright and sunny, but by the time I got in my car to drive home, the sky had darkened, the clouds heavy with the storm that was shortly to come. I love the look of the world in stormy weather. As the sky becomes a mixture of dark storm and sun, all colors become more vibrant and alive. Grass appears even more green, almost fluorescent and otherworldly, and autumn trees shine an even brighter glow. It is stunning. So, I took the oppurtunity to stop several times on the short drive home to photograph my beautiful town in its most luscious season.

The vibrant colors were out of this world under the darkening sky.

Adam taking a walk through the meadow.

A beautiful row of nearly identical orangey-yellow trees.

What child can resist a fresh pile of leaves?

This is a side-view of the big hill that sits right behind our house. I photographed this on our neighborhood farm that has been run by the same family since 1768.

Every time I approach the long driveway that leads to my house, all the weight of the day's cares wash away from my shoulders. My home and the nature that surrounds it are truly my haven. I am blessed.

Approaching the driveway, leading to my home. Those two green trees nearest my house are maples that will turn a brilliant, striking red around the end of the month.

And the further up the driveway I ascend, the more calm takes hold of my heart and mind.

I adore autumn in my town.

Outside My Front Door This Morning

2010-10-12T10:31:00.006-04:00

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz

The morning sun shining down through the trees.

This morning, after I got the kids on the bus, I stood on my front porch, took a deep breath, and realized that I was experiencing one of those perfect autumn mornings. The sun was shining down through the trees, like a giant spotlight highlighting fall's fire. It was in the high 50's and a slight breeze brought a few richly colored leaves tumbling down like little drops of sun touching the earth. The ground was littered with red, orange, and golden jewels. The air was filled with the aroma of woodsy nature.

My grey stone wall colored by autumn's hue.

The oak trees are just beginning to turn to gold.

Looking up into the giant oaks, I can see the tops are still colored summer's green, but soon all will be gold.

The red of a few maple leaves light the stones and earth on fire.

We are not yet at peak in the hills of Connecticut. Most of the maples, the fiery reds, do not change until Halloween, and as seen in these photos, the oaks still have a way to go before they reach their color all the way to their tops, but we are on our way and it is already breathtaking. And so, I look forward to more of these perfect fall mornings, where I can stand in silence and breathe in the rich air, and sip on a mug of hot apple cider, while I watch my kids run off to catch their bus.

Delicious Autumn

2010-10-06T12:21:00.009-04:00

"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." - George Eliot

I could not have said it better myself! I doubt that Eliot ever saw a New England autumn, which I think is a bit sad because I believe everyone should see at least one New England autumn before they die because, truly, nothing compares.

For several days I've been meaning to get out and photograph this most perfect season in my most favorite land, but we've had non-stop rain. With our strangely very dry summer, I welcome the rain, and rain has always made me happy, unlike how down it made Karen Carpenter (although I do kind of agree with her about Mondays). Plus, the rain has added a spooky, Halloween-esque atmosphere that has made watching lots of spooky, Halloween-esque movies and shows particularly enjoyable (Vincent Price is the man!). So, I'll stay inside instead and keep watching my Vincent and reading my Poe, while I share with you these (yet mostly unpublished on this blog) photographs I took of fall two years ago.

These photos were taken on a drive through Litchfield county in Connecticut, mostly at a graveyard. I go to Litchfield county on a weekly basis since we live only a few minutes away and it's where I do my Target and Home Depot shopping. I feel like the luckiest girl alive that I get such a gorgeous drive to do something as mundane and routine as a Target trip to pick up toilet paper and shampoo. I live in a beautiful town and then Litchfield is about as picturesque as you can get. It is that perfect New England countryside that you see in movies, with stone fences snaking the landscape, covered bridges spanning lovely rivers, green fields, rolling hills, quaint historic homes, and trees as far as the eye can see.

And now for an image not in Litchfield county, but in my own town. A beautiful turn-of-the-century tower on a colorful hill...

Have a delicious autumn, everyone! Hope to be back with some more recent fall photograph delights soon. This weekend I'm going to a scarecrow festival and I imagine that will provide plenty of oppurtunity to get out and photograph this most perfect season of the year!

Spookify

2010-09-16T13:45:00.005-04:00

"Ok, kids, it's time to spookify," you'll hear me say in the dying, waning days of August. You see, spookifying my house takes several days and so I must begin at the end of August, if I want to be done by Labor Day. And I do want to be done by Labor Day.

My fall decorations used to all be about pumpkins and decorations in brown, orange, and gold. I still love those things and I still use some of that decor during Halloween, but most of that autumn-hued stuff is saved for my Thanksgiving decorating. My kids want spooky for Halloween. They delight it in, which delights me in return. So, we spookify. And it is fun!

I always start with my living room mantle. My living room is the first room you see when you step into my house and so it, logically, must be done first. I use a lot of spider webs for the mantle, and I don't know if you've ever worked with that stuff, but it takes a long time to get it right. That stuff seriously vexes me! (Get it? Vexes? Hexes? I'm a sucker for witch humor) So, without further ado, here is my living room mantle:

I got my beautiful spooky banner last year from my friend, Emily (I have 3 of her banners and I love them all.) I purchased the haunted house at the Yankee Candle destination location in Deerfield, Massachusetts last year. Now I know the Salem sign (that I purchased in, of all places, Salem, MA) looks deceptively like a Halloween decoration, but truth be told, that stays up all year long, since I'm weird like that.

The glittery bat on a wooden pedestal was purchased this year at TJ Maxx. By the way, TJ Maxx has the best Halloween decorations! You must go raid your local Maxx. The bat silouette cut-outs on the wall are from the Martha Stewart collection, which I picked up at Michael's this year. The little skeleton face and the corresponding pumpkin face on the other side were purchased at Michael's about 4 years ago.

In years past, I have seen those large wall hangings of old-timey people where, when you walk past them, they turn into something scary, but I always thought they looked cheesy. They were always so over-the-top, but then I found this one of 19th century looking gent at Michael's this year. I like that it is smaller than most I've seen and looks much more subtle, in its simple black frame (by the way I bought his mate of a scary lady, but that one is on my family room mantle). Oh, and don't you just love my perplexed crow keeping an eye on this ghoul?

And here is our 19th century gent as some sort of skeleton guy. This reminds me so much of waiting in line, as a kid, at The Haunted Mansion in Disneyland. Those pictures always delighted me.

Here, on a side table in my living room, I set up these blocks. I picked up these little sweet blocks that spell out boo! at TJ Maxx (See! I told you they have great things!) I'm a sucker for Halloween decorations that look vintage, like they came from the 40's or earlier.

In the coming weeks I'll be posting more photos of my Halloween decor. We're on the tail-end of a major family room remodel, so that room is not totally spookified yet. So, more spookifiying to look forward to!

Happy spookifying, everyone!

The Grave Is But A Covered Bridge

2010-09-09T15:00:00.011-04:00

"Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that lead to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime; but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the favorite haunts of the Headless Horseman, and the place where he was most frequently encountered."
- The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, by Washington Irving

I actively seek out covered bridges wherever I travel in New England. One of my favorites is actually not far from my home. It's a beautiful red, civil war era bridge that spans the Housatonic River in Cornwall, Connecticut. I don't know all the reasons why I am drawn to these covered bridges, even as my kids roll their eyes when I tell them we're going to see yet another. Part of the reason, I'm sure, is that I'm from very modern and new California, a part of the state where the whole world is a sea of housing developments and strip malls. Covered bridges are historical, a link to a simpler time and so not from the world I came from. I adore charming New England and their desire and efforts to perserve the past. In the west it is all about moving forward, being progressive, being efficient, and building wider and wider highways. Here, they treasure their past and make sure it is remembered and fits in to all the modern-day development. To me, that is perfection.

On Labor Day weekend we went up to the flagship Yankee Candle store in western Massachusetts. We do this every Labor Day weekend to stock up on Halloween and fall decor and scents. Their Halloween display is always to die for. While we were in the area, I decided we'd go visit a covered bridge up in Brattleboro, Vermont since it was only about 25 miles north of Yankee Candle.

We've had a bit of a draught this summer so the river is not as high as normal, but still a lovely scene.

To my surprise, the bridge had a boulder on either side to make sure no car traffic crosses it anymore. Though I hadn't expected it, this made the bridge the perfect playground for kids. My husband and kids ran many races across the wood planks.

They also raced across the bridge walkway that was added in the 1920's.

Caroline and her panache for lots of accessories.

Such a dirty face after all that play.

Though we have gone back in time on this bridge, it does not stop a teenage girl from texting.

But I know my love of covered bridges stems from more than its symbolism of a simplier time. Covered bridges are just plain spooky! Most of them have some sort of legend or folklore attached to them. Many locals say their bridges are haunted, usually by some poor soul who was hung by their throats from the rafters, either by an act of suicide or foul play. Or by a sad spirit who has drowned themselves or was stabbed to death.

Imagine yourself alone on a dark, autumn night. Owls are hooting, wolves are howling, and leaves are rustling. There is the sound of a rushing stream and you must cross the bridge to get home. The bridge is a dark tunnel where any spook or living devil could be hiding to harm you. You cannot see what is there since the small structure is filled with shadows, but you have heard stories of a ghost who claws at those who dare cross her bridge at the midnight hour. You think you see something moving in the darkness, but that could be your mind playing tricks and interpreting danger in the shadows. You decide you must hurry across, but as you step in, the old wood creaks loudly beneath your feet and your heart begins to pound.

See what I mean? Spooky!

Father and daughter conversation at the end of the bridge.

My first exposure to a covered bridge was when I was a little girl and I watched Icabod Crane, Disney's animated version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I watched the creepy, skeleton-like trees as Icabod fearfully rides the decrepit horse, Gunpowder. He has heard the legend and he knows he must cross the bridge, otherwise the Headless Horseman will chop off his head. Even now I can hear Bing Crosby narrating the scene and the image of the dark bridge comes to my mind.

Then still, as a child, I saw Beetlejuice, where a young country couple from Connecticut meet their death by crashing through a covered bridge. A bridge that literally takes you from one side to another was where they crossed over to the other side, in a manner of speaking. As Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, "The grave is but a covered bridge Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!”

The covered bridge's symbolism, history, and darkness make it the perfect site for legends, ghosts, and myths.

Totally exhausted from all the covered bridge play.

All I know is that if I ever write a ghost story, which I hope to do someday, there will be a covered bridge involved.

Nostalgia and Bloody Apples

2010-09-02T12:05:00.007-04:00

As September begins, I turn giddy. Fall in New England! Ahhh, it is the best time of the year. Apple picking, ghost stories, hay rides, corn mazes, pumpkins picked from the vine, masses of colorful foliage glowing in the autumn sun.

We live in the countryside of Connecticut, where the world hasn't changed much from colonial times. I know when most people think of Connecticut, they think of the stereotype. They think of the panhandle where everyone commutes to New York City and everyone wears Ralph Lauren and has names like Buffy or Chad and where everyone owns a sailboat or a yacht. But that is not the Connecticut where I live (well, we're a little preppy up here too). I live in the northwestern hills and countryside of the state. I live in the forests and amongst farms that have been family run since the 1700's. I live on the outskirts of the stunning Berkshires and I'm only 6 miles from Massachusetts, an hour from Vermont. We are truly in rural New England and it is stunning.

Like I said, we are surrounded by small, family run farms, and last year I went with my youngest son's preschool class to pick apples at a lovely little farm right at the Connecticut/Mass border.

Rows of apple trees

I don't believe there is an American people more steeped in tradition than the New Englanders. They have a way of doing things. They have always been done that way and they always will. Picking your own fall fruit is one of their favorite traditions, something that is always done.

A beautiful fall scene at the apple farm

Americana and pumpkins

The owner of the farm (and her gippy dog) telling the kids about animal foot tracks before taking them on a hike.

Eating treats, baked fresh on the farm

Traditions are wholesome and child-friendly. They are something we hold onto, and as a newcomer to this land, I have embraced these traditions too. But there is another side to New England. Being the oldest region in our country's history, there has been tragedy, indian raids, witch hangings, wars, superstitions, and legends. There is always a dark undercurrent to the traditions of this land. And apple picking is no exception.

There was once a variety of apple that grew in this region called Micah Rood apples. The last of the trees that grew this variety was toppled over in a hurricane during the 1930's. Legend tells us that there was a farmer named Micah Rood who lived in Franklin, Connecticut. He was a lazy and suspicious man who dreamed of easy riches. One day in 1693, a jewelry peddler came to Franklin and stopped by Micah Rood's farm to peddle his wares. The next day, the peddler's body was found under an apple tree in Micah's orchards. His head was split open and all the jewelry he was selling was missing. Micah denied having anything to do with the man's murder and there was no evidence to convict him. The next autumn, the apples that grew from the tree where the peddler was found, all had a peculiar marking. They all bore a spot of red, like a drop of blood, at the heart of the white flesh inside the apple. All of the villagers believed that this was a tell-tale sign, from beyond the grave. This was the peddler's blood that bore witness that Micah Rood had murdered him. Micah Rood died shortly after of mysterious causes. From that day on, for hundreds of years, the Micah Rood apple, or Mike apple for short, always grew with a blood red center. Very Edgar Allan Poe, don't you think?

If you'd like to hear more of the sinister, dark superstitions of New England go to Peter's blog New England Folklore. I love reading his tales of the strange and unusual that have taken place in this ancient land.

My Little Slice of New England Heaven

2010-08-25T13:20:00.002-04:00

I only just realized that I have only posted photos of my home in the winter and late fall, never in the full bloom of foliage of the summer. When it is summer, you can scarcely see my hidden cottage on the hill. We have our own hidden world on our 2 acres and it is my haven.

I have gone back and forth on what to call my home. It's either Hidden Cottage or Hillside Cottage. You'll have to tell me which you like better, but either way, I like to think of my home as a cottage. When people speak of mansions in heaven, I cringe. I don't want a mansion. I want a little cottage in the woods. That is my idea of heaven.

McMansions and cathedral ceilings have never been my thing. Sweeping staircases, high ceilings, and an overly open amount of empty space have always left me cold and a little sad. I have a temperament that is greatly affected by environment and I can become depressed in that kind of a home. I need a place that is cozy and feels like a warm hug (figuratively speaking). A close friend of mine, who is also a cottage lover, and I always say that they are called cathedral ceilings for a reason...they belong in a cathedral. I know my opinion may be in the minority in the American idealogy of bigger is better, but this is what works for me, and I know from experience. We used to live in a home that was 4500 sqft. It was nice in some ways, but I found that I prefer my comfy cottage in the woods. (if you prefer high ceilings and think the more square feet the better, I mean no offense. To each his own and thank goodness for the plethora of home styles we all get to choose from.)

Summer view of my house from the street.

This is why, I believe, that I immediately felt that I had come home when I moved to New England. I come from the land of massive housing developments, where your neighbor's home is just feet from your own. Homes are often identical and lack character. In the woods, in my comfy, imperfect home, is where I belong.

closer up

My home really is far from perfect. There is a lot of work to be done. We have lots of plans for the land, which have yet come to fruition. Despite the fact that we haven't done much with the land yet, the kids spend countless hours losing themselves in the magic of the woods and climbing the giant hill behind our house. Their imaginations have expanded by living in nature.

One view of the yard.

Another view of the yard, which still needs a lot of work.

And we have lots of remodeling to do. We recently finished a bathroom remodel (photos forthcoming) and are currently remodeling the family room. It has been quite an undertaking and the house is a bit chaotic because of it, but it will be worth it in the end. I also have plans for the kitchen and new flooring and the basement. There are projects galore available in this house, which also gives us the oppurtunity to customize our environment to our taste. We enjoy it - the planning, the brainstorming, the picking of materials. It all feels so creative and gives us an outlet to express who we are.

No shortage of work to do, but I have never felt more at home than I have in my fixer-upper hillside cottage in the woods.

(you can visit my new post on my other blog here)

Unquenchable Thirst

2010-08-17T19:06:00.005-04:00

I know I am late in saying this, but wasn't July freaking hot?! Here in Connecticut it was a record-breaking month. In all of recorded history, it was the hottest July ever (and this after having the coolest July ever last year). The children and I spent the majority of the month in our town pool. I slathered myself in 90 spf and dragged along a book and beach chair. Though I had the best of intentions of meeting my imaginary book reading quota and relaxing in my comfy chair, it was so hot that even I spent the majority of the time in the cool water of the pool so I wouldn't pass out from the pulsating pain of a heat headache.

Then we went to Utah, where we were met with a nasty heat wave. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as it were. Not only was over 100 degrees most of the time we were there, but it was also extremely dry (did you know that Utah is the second driest state in the country, by the way?). I laughed when people in Utah would say, "yeah, but it's a dry heat". HA! I had never been so dehydrated in all my life. The dryness of the air, in its apparent jealously of my body fluid, sucked all the water out of me to claim as its own. My contacts stuck to my dried out raisin eyes and I had a water bottle permanently attached to my lips. I was in constant need of chapstick and lotion and I felt parched from trying to keep my water levels up. My body has acclimated and obviously become that of a northeastener, craving at least some water mixed with my air. It's nice to know that not only has my mind and spirit converted to the ways of New England, but my body has joined in as well.

As we got out to see the sites and be with family, the kids were drawn to any source of water that came along our travels like moths to the flame. They were little dried out raisins too.

A few of my kids and some of their cousins nearly diving into the water fountain at Salt Lake temple.

Soaking themselves beyond recognition at Thanksgiving Point.

Ahhh, sweet immersion!

Even my infant niece attacked an icy glass of water on a hot day.

Oh, and p.s. did I mention that the car we drove in Utah for the majority of the time did not have air conditioning?! Fun times!

And p.p.s. in case you are racking your brain trying to guess the number 1 driest state in the nation, I'll save you the headache and google search. It is Nevada. Shocked? No, me neither.

(check out my latest post from my other blog here)

...Leave A Trail

2010-08-15T02:47:00.002-04:00

I have now started my new blog that I mentioned in my previous post. This new blog is for the sole purpose of recording my thoughts, feelings, and actions that I'm now taking about the sexual abuse I endured as a child. I know it will be very therapeutic to have a place to write about such a big part of my past and present. I also hope it will be helpful to those who have experienced similar things, or help those who know and love a victim of such abuse. Please visit me there at:

...leave a trail

In case you're wondering, I am not abandoning this blog. I love having this blog to post pictures of my life and my beautiful New England. I will just have two homes now in which to write! And two is better than one! :)

Utah Makes Me Sick

2010-08-05T12:17:00.003-04:00

Literally. I got back from Utah two weeks ago and have been sick ever since. The day after we got home, I was hit with a bad head cold. Then came the bladder infection. And now I'm fighting a severe sinus infection on both sides and an ear infection. Hoping the heavy-duty antibiotics I started last night will kick in at any second. All this after months and months of great health. I had the best winter I've had in years, with only one very minor cold. I've been taking care of myself and my emotional health and it's been paying off.

Then I went to Utah. As much as I love my family, it was emotionally distressing to be there with everyone and to have to deal with old trauma head on. Whenever I go through major emotional stress, my immune system shuts down and my body suffers.

So, I've had a rough time of it since being home, but I have reached some important decisions. One of them being that I will be starting another blog, in addition to this one, that deals with my childhood abuse , the effects from it, and all that I've learned. I have also decided to take some action against my abuser, which I've been wanting to do for a long time.

Before I give the impression that the trip was fruitless for me (oh, and did I mention that my kids had a blast?), I did have some great moments and did see some special people. Mostly, I just loved watching my kids have so much fun.

My kids and I in our old hometown of Park City, where we lived for a few years when the kids were small. It was very nostalgic being there and was one of my favorite days spent in Utah.

My brother is one of my best friends in the world and I finally got to meet his beautiful baby (before he takes her even farther from me to California to earn his PhD). I loved seeing my little brother and his awesome wife in their new roles as parents and I loved staying up with them until the wee hours of the morning talking.

I was also excited to see my cousin again, who I hadn't seen in years. We spent a lot of time together, taking our kids on outings, when we were both new moms and living near each other years ago.

I haven't gone through and edited most of my photos from Utah yet, but I am looking forward to seeing what gems may be hidden in my memory cards. I also look forward to giving these infections, that have overtaken my body, their eviction notice and getting back out into my beloved New England (where I truly belong) and photograph it in all its summer glory.

Until next time, I hope you all are making the most of the final full month of summer!

Da-Dum...Da-Dum...Da-Dum Da-Dum Da-Dum

2010-07-28T11:42:00.004-04:00

Last August, as we explored the North Shore and Cape Ann, we ended up in Rockport, Massachusetts. We walked down to the end of Bearskin Neck and sat ourselves on the rocks overlooking the ocean. As always, my camera was flung over my shoulder, so I pulled it up and started taking photos of my family.

I snapped several shots as my family was setting themselves up so that I could meter the light and make adjustments before I took the real photos.

Notice anything unusual?

No? Well, here's another shot.

Still need some help figuring it out? Look near my husband's arm, in the ocean.

Here's a close up.

Looks a little like a shark fin, right?

The more shots I took, the closer the big beast got.

Looks like its tail has come out of the water.

Getting closer. This is when The Jaws theme starts running through my head.

So, what do you think?

Is it a shark or a whale? Jaws or Moby Dick? We think it's a shark since a whale's tail is more t-shaped, but we are no experts. Whatever it is, it was massive. And it sent a shiver down my spine when my husband noticed the creature as we reviewed the photos at home. I kept thinking, what if one of my kids took a tumble down the rocks at that moment. Creepy!

Oh, and right after we got home from our mini vacation on the North Shore last summer, there were reports up and down the Massachusetts coast of great white sightings.

This is why I stay on the sand when I go to the beach.

A New England Day At The Beach

2010-07-23T15:59:00.005-04:00

Greeted by Hitchcockian birds, eerily keeping watch over sunbathers and their food...

Letting the ocean cover us like a liquid blanket and rock us under the 4th of July sun...

Running through the waves...

And letting them hit us in the face...

Chasing toy sharks through the foaming surf...

Taking a break to build castles of sand...

And then another joins to run his fingers through the irresistible wet and warm earth...

Sharing clumps of good sand to build structures that will last, at least until a wave comes and claims the castle for the sea...

Laying in the sun, relaxing, and enjoying the moment of a summer's day...

All on an Indepedence Day on a beach in Rhode Island.

(Excuse my absence for the last couple of weeks, as we were on a summer holiday. Hope to catch up with all of you shortly!)

Meet Deliverance

2010-07-01T01:25:00.010-04:00

Meet dear Deliverance. I got her a few months ago during my lengthy blogging hiatus, so I've yet to introduce her to the world. The lovely Julie over at Ruby Nest Dolls was the artist who created Deliverance. As soon as I saw all the beautiful folk art dolls she's made in the past, I knew I had to have one!

All I had to do was tell her my favorite colors and give her a basic idea of what I liked. I wanted my doll to look aged and worn. I love what Julie did with the fraying and tea-staining of the fabric and the crackle finish over the paint to make it appear as if the doll been passed down through the generations. I also told Julie that I love ravens and black birds and she put a sweet little raven in the bird cage painted on Deliverance's body.

I only recently named my beautiful doll Delieverance. You see, it is a habit of mine to name things around my house like house plants and special pieces of decor that especially pull on my heart (by the way, the plant by my kitchen sink is named Coraline, in case you were wondering). About a month ago I finished reading the novel The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, which is a wonderfully spooky witch story set in Salem, MA. I loved, loved, loved the book and I love a good ol' puritanical name like Deliverance. Since my little beauty sits on a certain fireplace mantel that has developed a bit of a Salem theme over time, the name is especially fitting. (I purchased the wood Salem sign on the mantle below at the House of Seven Gables in Salem.)

Deliverance sits next to the painting of my Salem, accused witch ancestor, Sarah Pease (painted by my lovely friend and artist Heather). At least now, both Sarah and Deliverance have each other to commiserate over their time spent in a 17th century dungeon and the humility of being accused of witchcraft.

Just look at that face...

Absolutely perfect.

Like A Wave

2010-06-17T13:55:00.005-04:00

I have been overwhelmed with gratitude at the response my last post generated. The comments and emails I received were so encouraging and loving and I thank all of you for taking the time to just let me know you were there, you heard, and you wished the best for me. I also thank all of you who shared your own stories of abuse and betrayal with me. Those stories are sacred to me and I feel blessed that you trusted me with them.

I talked a lot about my pain in my last post. I must say that in the last couple of years, I don't feel it very often. Most of that is in the past. I endured it and have come out the other side. I've had enough days of being crumpled on the floor of my closet, eneveloped in tears, unable to function to last me a lifetime, and I do believe the worst is over. I deserve for the worst to be over.

I always had the notion that once I forgave my abuser and my family it would all be over. Something akin to an angel descending, bopping me on the head with a wand, and all the feelings of anger and pain are over. That's what I thought it was to forgive, when you no longer feel any anger or hurt, and it's just magically gone. And let me clarify, I want to forgive for me. It's not about saying that what they did was ok, that it was no big deal. No. It's about freeing myself of disabling pain. I once read a quote by Lewis B. Smedes that says, "To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."

When I was in therapy, I asked my therapist, "how do I know when I have forgiven? How do I know when I'm healed? When I forgive, does that mean I won't be angry at my abuser and my family ever again? Does it mean I won't feel that pain ever again?" I didn't understand the concept. How do you know you won't ever feel angry over the past again? What if you feel that you're past it and you've forgiven them and then, one day, OOPS, you have a tinge of anger when thinking about the past. Does that mean you didn't actually forgive when you thought you did? The whole thing was confusing to me. She assured me that forgiveness is a process and that throughout my whole life I would have moments of anger over the past. That is normal. The difference is how I handle that anger when it creeps up. Finally! That made sense. I understood.

I find symbols very powerful in my life, and over the last several years the New England coast has emerged as a striking and comforting symbol for me. I grew up in California, a coastal state, but there is something about the east coast that speaks much more to my heart. I love the rocky coasts and the extensive seafaring history here. I love the crooked and weather-beaten wood fences that wind, like a snake, up and down the east coast beaches, and I simply adore the wispy long grass that grows in the sand and sways lazily in the breeze. I love all the summer rainstorms we get here and how moody the ocean can be. When I go to the coast, I find peace and I find answers.

Last summer, we stayed in the north shore of Massachusetts for a few days. As we walked around Salem, the sky suddenly got dark and the world was bathed in a purplish hue as it does right before a thunderstorm. We hurried to the car and drove around as the rain fell, but it wasn't just a normal rainstorm; it was a tropical storm and the rain fell in thick layers. The windshield wipers swished at a frantically high speed, and still the rain formed a wavy curtain that distorted our view and refused to be parted. My heart raced as we drove along to coast to Marblehead. I could see giant waves as I looked out the car window. I had visions of flashfloods and images of our car being swept out to sea, that was only feet away from where we drove, flashing through my anxious mind. The anxiety of the moment almost overtook me. I squeezed the handle of my car door until my hand ached. I begged my husband to pull over so we could find cover. But just as I reached the climax of my frenzy, we pulled up to a parking area that we had never been to and a lighthouse suddenly shot up in front of our view. Then as quickly as the rain had come, it ceased. My anxiety dispersed at once and we climbed out of our car.

Marblehead Lighthouse after the storm August, 2009

We walked over to the blinking lighthouse and looked out over the coast. Several boats bobbed and swayed calmly in the harbor. I marvelled that only moments ago, the world was all chaos and furry, and now calm and peace reigned in the deep waters and dark sky.

Marblehead harbor August, 2009

Life was resuming. The storm had passed and the joys of life on the coast had been restored.

The storms do come. I still have moments of anger and pain. I still have moments where tears fill my eyes and the sense of true injustice squeezes my heart. I have forgiven to set myself free. To forgive and to heal means I'm back in control. No one else has control over me anymore, not physically or emotionally. I won't let them have that power. So when moments overcome me like a wave in a stormy sea, I look for my lighthouse. I've had to build my own lighthouse, because they do not magically appear without my effort.

Anger is a secondary emotion. It always stems from something else. When I feel that anger wash over me, when I feel the tears spill from my eyes, the lighthouse that I have created is the word "NO". Inside my head, I yell, with force, "NO!" Once I halt the continuing rainfall of angry and negative thoughts in mid-stream, I take several deep and cleansing breaths to stop the physical reaction of anger, because anger always triggers a physical flight or fight response. First that must be calmed so that I can deal with the feelings. I then ask myself what the primary emotion is. Most likely, for me, it is a feeling of helplessness, a loss of control. Once I recognize that emotion, the root of it all, I deal with it. I deal with it in terms that are manageable and not overwhelming. I acknowledge that I am helpless to change anyone else or to change the past, but I'm not helpless in taking control of my life. I am in control of not becoming a prisoner to the past.

The biggest lesson, for me, in all of this is that in everything we have a choice, even in our thoughts and feelings. I can take that once overpowering storm of emotion that took me without warning and I have the power to make it the size of a knat. And every time I go through this and manage to take control, I feel more and more powerful in my own life.

To forgive these people is to take control of my own future. It has nothing to do with them or if they've changed and will treat me right from now on. Forgiving them has nothing to do with their realization that they did something wrong because I'm sure, in fact, that most of them think they did absolutely nothing wrong. Forgiving my abuser and my family doesn't mean that things go back to normal. I will never forget what happened and continues to happen. My abuser will never be part of my life again and I will never feel the same about some of my family members. Those relationships have been damaged. Of course I wish things could be different, but I must live in the reality of what has occurred. I must take the circumstances that were given to me, take the tools I have learned to cope with my experiences, and turn the damage that was done to me into strengths. Like a fractured bone, once healed, is stronger than before.

All things in our lives are for our experience and work for our good*, if we give them the power to.

(* I am paraphrasing from "The Doctrine and Covenants".)

Forever Bound

2010-06-03T12:55:00.007-04:00

When you grow up Mormon, you are taught from a young age that family is everything. Family is above all else. By the time you are out of diapers, you have memorized the phrase Families are Forever. This is a wonderful concept. It is comforting to most people. And I envy those people.

The idea that I will be with my family of origin forever is sometimes a disturbing thought for me. My relationship with them is complex and often painful and I envy those that feel nothing but support and unconditional love from those people they were born to and grew up with. When I sit in church and hear lessons that are meant to inspire and comfort those listening, I wish the teacher realized that we didn't all come from an ideal beginning. I wish they realized that some of us have conflicting feelings about our families. I wish they knew that sometimes their words are like pinpricks of pain stabbing into my heart. But how do you say that? You don't. Because it would be socially unacceptable to admit that you sometimes have feelings of anger or antipathy for your family in my religion.

I love my family. I have fun with my family. We share the same sarcastic sense of humor. We often love the same music, the same movies, the same books, and tv shows. I feel comfortable with them. Most of the time.

But there is a part of me that feels crushed and mutilated by them. Not all of my family (I must clarify), but most, have betrayed me in ways they refuse to see. I can't understand them and they don't want to understand me.

I was only a child when it all began. I was a complete innocent. I needed protection, but no one realized at the time that the person I needed protection from the most wasn't some faceless boogie man lurking in the deep, dark night, but instead was in my own family. He had married into my family. From the beginning, he was an evil and destructive force. He brought nothing of value, nothing wholesome to us, but like the angel of death he killed the innocent child that I was. He murdered the person that I should have been. I will never know life without anxiety. I will never know life without dealing with the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. I will never know life without confusion about my purpose and my worth. The fearless, confident woman that I should have grown up to be, was strangled to unconsciousness in my youth.

Once I finally told my family of this secret when I was in college, I thought I would be encircled by love and protection. At first I was. At first I thought I would have my precious family back to myself. I just knew this person would be shunned and disowned by those who loved me. I can't begin to tell you what a relief I felt. My heart soared, weightless, for the first time. But that relief was short-lived. The decision was made by his wife to stay with him, and once everyone realized that he would remain in the family, all energy went into supporting them and their marriage. He is a part of my family both legally and within the records of my church.

I was pressured to accept him back into the family. I was supposed to open gifts with him around a glittery Christmas tree, sit next to him on the couch on Father's Day, share a Thanksgiving turkey with him. I was supposed to let him partake of my children's birthday cakes and trust him with my precious little ones as we celebrated the 4th of July in my parents' pool.

But I wouldn't.

I refused to let this man be a part of my life in any way. And I was often made to feel, especially by his wife (among others), that I was the one causing all the problems in my family because I wouldn't forget. I couldn't forget. What they have never realized is that when you are abused as a child, you are forever changed. Forever wounded in some deep and dark way that takes hold of your heart at the most random moments, and injects a sudden agony that overtakes your whole being.

I moved thousands of miles away. Though this was not the main reason we moved away, it certainly makes day-to-day living easier. I don't have to worry about their holiday celebrations. I don't have to constantly re-live the crippling pain that envelops my spirit when I see my family invite this man into their homes, trust him with their children, and laugh at his jokes.

And yet I love them. I want the best for them, but knowing they accept this man into our eternal family leaves me feeling worthless and unloved. (As far as I'm concerned, he will not be in my eternal family)

I have created a forever family with my husband, and that brings me comfort and peace. I have made it my mission to protect these precious spirits that I have brought into the world and to let them know that if anyone wounds them, like I was wounded, that I will always be on their side. I would never make them feel guilty for not accepting someone into their lives who has crushed their spirit and their innocence. I want this family to be a safe haven where, no matter how ugly their secrets, they can trust them with us. We will do the right thing.

For those who teach in church, please remember as you ready your lessons, that there may be someone like me listening to you. There may be someone who has to deal with gut-wrenching pain and conflict in their family. We didn't all have ideal childhoods (or even ideal adulthoods), with ideal circumstances. And please, if you teach children and youth in your church, remember that there may be a little girl or boy who, like me, is being hurt and shamefully used by someone they love and trust. Please don't add to their burden by teaching them that loyalty to their families is most important, above all else. Just let them know their Savior loves them and He may sometimes be the only one in their lives that gives them unconditional love. They should know that even if they are in pain and experiencing secret horrors, that they are never alone.

(above photo taken by me of the LDS Boston Temple)

I Miss My Mundane Life

2010-05-25T16:03:00.003-04:00

I just sneaked away, so I've only got a couple of minutes. We've had visitors for over a week now and there's no end in sight. Seriously, we don't know when my in-laws are leaving. Word of advice to all of you - don't let anyone step a foot across your threshold without knowing the exact date they are leaving. It messes with your head and your life, not knowing when things will be back to normal and not knowing when you are free to walk around your own home in your robe without awkward glances anymore. Never thought I'd miss the mundane of my everyday life like I do now that I don't know when I'll get it back!

So, I've been forced by circumstance to abandon my blog (and blog reading) and all other simple joys for the immediate time being, but just wanted to say I'm here and I'm alive (barely).

But it all started off good. The reason why we've had visitors is that everyone was here to celebrate my daughter's baptism. We went to Salem and Marblehead with my parents, which is always a good time. We had some fun times and ate yummy food, and my daughter felt so special that everyone came out especially for her. But now, I'm ready for my life to get back to the predictable and to once again feel totally at ease in my home. My parents are already gone, but like I said, my in-laws are still here until........I have no idea.

Here's a quick snapshot of all of us after my daughter's baptism, which was awesome, by the way. Our ward (a Mormon version of a parish) is the best and so many came out to show our sweet, little Caroline love and support.

(Don't know if you can tell, but I'm wearing fishnets in this shot. I always must have a bit of rebellion against the norm. It's not outrageous, but I highly recommend it to you ladies. Makes you feel a little naughty, even when you're being a good girl at church! ;)

One Person's Crazyness is Another Person's Reality

2010-05-10T15:32:00.003-04:00

Tim Burton! Yes, I am mentioning Tim Burton yet again on this blog. And the title of this post is straight from his mouth. It is one of my favorite quotes.

Burton has been a big part of my life since I was a kid. His weirdo characters spoke to me from Pee Wee and his big adventure, to Lydia from Beetlejuice, to Edward Scissorhands, and even Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. I was a kid who was battling frightening demons. On the outside, I looked like a normal girl and did all the normal things, but with the dark secrets and abuse that I suffered alone with in my childhood, I often felt weird, strange, and was certain I would be an outcast if anyone knew the real me. To watch fun movies with odd characters was soothing to me. These strange characters were celebrated in Burton's works and I felt less inherently evil or wrong, in some way. To hear a line like, "I, myself, am strange and unusual," uttered in a movie, made me feel a little less isolated in my feelings, and less isolated in my nightmare.

Burton said, in a recent interview for MoMA, "The word normal always scared me because that indicated something that was quite subversively terrifying in some way. Growing up on monster movies, that was the dynamic in each and every one of those, where the monster was the outcast, and the people were much more of the sort of villainous element to it." And, of course, Edward Scissorhands, is pretty much an exact translation of Burton's feelings on old-time monster movies. That movie, in particular, felt very personal to me. Internally, I felt as strange as Edward, but I hid those demons and all my pain, because I was afraid of what the "normal" people would think of me. Would I be rejected in the end? Sometimes, when I did let people in on my secrets, on the real me, my fears were realized. I mean, look what happened to Edward in the end. It happens! But I think the more exposure people have to strange things, or to people who haven't had the ideal circumstances in life, those norms shift and people are more compassionate. (the photo above is my son standing in front of a reproduction of one of Edward's creations from the movie)

As I grew out of childhood, I continued to follow Burton. Sleepy Hollow and Ed Wood still rank in my top ten favorite films. So, when my little brother (Hi, Ben!) let me know of Tim Burton's exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, I knew that nothing would stop me from seeing it. I also knew that I would not leave my children behind. I wanted them to see it. I wanted them to be exposed to this strange and different artwork, along with all the classics at the MoMA.

We were greeted, first, by a creation of Burton's, called Balloon Boy.

View of Balloon Boy from the courtyard.

The entry to the exhibit was creative and beautiful. You walk through a strange creature's mouth, which is the doorway, and down a hallway. In the hallway were several monitors playing the different adventures of Stainboy, which included many characters from Burton's book called The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy.

Of course my kids had to buy toys from those Stainboy films. Here, Adam holds his Tragic Toys for Girls and Boys.

After you leave the hallway, you enter a dark room with black lights and a stunning merry-go-round type of creation modeled from one of Burton's sketches and you also see the Oogie Boogie puppet used in Nightmare Before Christmas. After that room, you enter the main exhibit, and it goes in chronological order. It was so fun to see his artwork from childhood and high school. Tim Burton once said, "I drew from the very beginning, and then what seems to happen is you go through school and the teachers would say, 'Oh, you shouldn't draw like this. You should draw like that.' So, by the time kids got to be like 10 years old, they'd think they couldn't draw." Having been a very unconfident kid myself, I thought it was amazing that he had the confidence to ignore those comments as a child. He liked to draw, so he did.

If you get the chance, go this site and click on works. This is a sampling of his works through the years that we saw at his show. It was truly fascinating and I think that people have forgotten, because of his success as a director, that he started out as an artist, and still is.

There was also a room, in the exhibit, that held a lot of memorabilia from his films. My kids loved seeing the actual puppets from Nightmare Before Christmas and Corpse Bride and the pumpkin-headed scarecrow from Sleepy Hollow. I had flashbacks from childhood when I saw all the different sizes of Large Marge's eyes, as she transforms from regular trucker woman to mutilatated body, in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure. There were also things from Batman and Batman Returns, Mars Attacks, Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, Ed Wood, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and more.

Though the exhibit was packed, it was worth it. It really stirred something in me. It brought out all those feelings from childhood and inspired me to be creative and to share with others who may have also felt like outcasts or weirdos due to unfortunate circumstances. I saw my children's creativity being stirred too. As soon as we left the city, they were all sketching out strange and interesting characters on the drive home.

After the exhibit, we spent the rest of the day in Central Park. It was a beautiful day. So, we threw off our shoes and picnicked on the warm grass.

Russ and the kids climbing the rocks in Central Park.

Me and my two little ones by the beautiful flowers of Central Park.

Nothing like ice cream on a warm day in the park.

My kids and I in the Central Park Mall.

The lower level passageway of the Bethesda Terrace. Beautiful!

At the lake at Central Park.

Tim Burton has such a talent for touching on the dark side of things, without dipping into evil or scary terrority. He has a lighthearted sense of the world and of our universal fears, with a macabre twist. It is something that I have responded to all of my life because I think if you've seen really dark and disturbing things in your own life, there is a comfort in seeing those themes in film, especially when done in such a happy way. It leaves with you a sense of hope. And seeing Burton's plethora of work and creativity, brought up that hope for me again.

MoMA's Tim Burton: The Exhibition is currently headed to Melbourne, Australia this summer. Or I guess I should say winter, since June is technically winter down under. So, if you live there, or happen to be there around that time, I highly suggest picking up tickets. It will expand how you see the multi-talented director of Alice in Wonderland (another Burton film that I loved, by the way).

Children in New York

2010-05-03T10:57:00.004-04:00

I have been editing photos from the day we spent in New York City just over a week ago, and two photos quickly became my favorites. I kept pulling up these two photos over and over again, just to put a smile on my face. They both have a couple of things in common. Number 1 - They are both candid shots and Number 2 - they both involved my children experiencing New York. Oh, and Number 3 is a weird coincidence, I think. Both shots involve no faces. Don't know what that says about me.

Sort of reminscient of that scene in Ferris Bueller, don't you think?

The above photo was taken in the Muesum of Modern Art in Manhattan. We were at the MoMA for the Tim Burton exhibition and had some free time to kill before it was our turn to go in. We went to other floors and started exploring the amazing collection of art there. I was slower than the rest of my group since I was taking my time, and as I came around a corner I saw my whole family staring down the window at the same time. Of course, I had to pull out my camera immediately and hope that no one would make a sudden movements and run off. Nobody did. They just kept looking, totally engrossed with what they were viewing.

I love watching my kids in NYC. Having grown up in California, NYC is still exciting and exotic to me. After all these years of living in Connecticut, it still blows my mind that I live only a short driving distance from the city. So, to see my kids there, to see their wonderment, makes me feel happy and serene. It confirms to me that we made the right choice in moving here and opening up a whole new world to our children, and to ourselves.

Here my son, Adam, is eating a hot dog we picked up from an outside grill in Central Park. He's looking off in the distance to his dad and siblings. I love the city skyline in the distance set against the park setting. Adam was so happy in this moment. He couldn't stop smiling as we ate in Central Park, and when your kids are excited like that, it just makes you feel so content, like you've done something right.

This photo also represents, to me, a new phase for us. We have rarely taken the kids into the city. It was always so stressful. We had little ones, who we feared would run out into the street or wander off. And the idea of finding a place in the city to change a diaper wasn't very appealing. Taking little kids into New York, when you're not very familiar with everything, is a stress-laden day trip. But this was the first trip that we didn't have all those overwhelming worries. Our youngest is 5 now. It was actually a relaxing, fun day and now we are planning on going into the city a lot more. I'm estatic that we have now reached this phase with our family. This whole parenting thing is just getting better and better! (Note I didn't say it gets easier. I know the teenage years are no picnic. We are already there with our oldest. I still prefer it to toddlers, but that's just me.)

Next time - more on the Burton exhibition at the MoMA. Here's a hint - we loved it!

Everyone Hail To The Pumpkin King

2010-04-29T12:43:00.001-04:00

We've been celebrating our "Halloween in April" for the last week and a half. It was only supposed to last for the week of spring break, but the kids have loved it so much they insist it last until May 1st. We've been watching spooky movies, decorating Halloween sugar cookies, telling ghost stories, burning pumpkin spice candles, and I even draped the house in all its Halloween finery. It's very Halloweeny in here and it's been a blast. And guess what, I'm not so crazy. Much to my surprise, Disney channel just aired two weeks of what they called "Halloween in April"! So, you can stop looking at me like I'm the weird goth girl; I've got the world's largest media conglomerate on my side.

Despite my best efforts at making Halloween a bi-annual holiday, an important component is missing. And there's really nothing I can do to bring this wonderful feature of October into April, outside of developing a wicked green thumb and magical powers. My heart is saddened by the utter lack of pumpkins. I didn't realize how much they figured into our Halloween celebrations, but their rich orange color and beautiful texture add something that nothing else can. It's no wonder that Tim Burton made the ruler of Halloweentown a Pumpkin King.

So, to bring these special gourds into the present, photographs will have to suffice. Without furthur ado, here are some of my pumpkin pictures from last October.

Do you notice something odd? Eggs is spelled backwards on that big red barn. No, it's not done that way because we are a bunch of country hicks. In fact, our neighboring town often accuses us of being a town of preppies. The reason it's done that way is because our town has very strict codes and laws about the size of advertizing signs. They must be small. So, the owners of this farm decided to spell eggs backwards and call it art instead. Best use of a loophole I've seen in a long time!

Fall scene

Big pumpkin, little girl

Their picks for the season. Look how gorgeous those orange orbs are.

Oh, beautiful bright orange pumpkins, how I miss you! But what I really miss is after we gut you out, carve you up, and light you up!

The most fun we had during our Halloween in April was to attend the Tim Burton exhibition (because who is more Halloween than Burton?) at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. It was the perfect day. But more on that later.

Finding Me

2010-04-26T17:47:00.008-04:00

So, I've all but abandoned this blog for the last several months, posting every so often. And I have not been reading any other blogs, except on rare occassions. I totally lost my taste for blogging. The very idea of taking the time I knew it required just turned me off. That isn't to say that I didn't miss reading about all of you or posting a really cool photo that I was particularly proud of, because I did miss all of that, but my time has become precious lately. Let me explain...

I was a young mom. I got pregnant with my eldest at 20 and I was pregnant with my fourth, and last child, when I was 28. My 20's were literally a blur of pregnancies, nursing, babies, and toddlers. I gave my very young self over to my beautiful little offspring. I chose to do it, and I loved it. But I also often felt a little like a prisoner. I was isolated. As anyone who has a lot of babies quick knows, you often become housebound. It's just easier to deal with your babies and toddlers at home, rather than deal with the stress and hard work going out requires. I pretty much lived in my pj's. And while I am a homebody by nature, even that was more home than I could stand a lot of the time.

Having said all that, I'm so glad I chose to have my babies that young and that quick. My youngest started preschool this year and I'm still young and am starting to have my freedom again. Now, please don't misunderstand. I'm not saying that the way I did it was the only right way. I hate all debates over having babies young versus older, or stay-at-home mom versus working mom, or nursing mom versus bottle feeding mom. Those debates are stupid and pointless. I think it is all very individual. Some people should have babies older, but for me, having my child-bearing done and over with at a young age has been a blessing.

Once Adam started preschool this year, I felt such a freedom. I started exploring my own interests. I explored the beautiful place in which I live and took lots of photographs (as I am doing in the above picture). I started seriously thinking about my writing again, even buying myself a very expensive pen and beautiful notebook to take notes on what I want to write about. I started to have a real social life again, often meeting up with friends for lunch. I've even gone so far as to dress up for lunches and get-togethers with friends because I love to dress up and I can do it again! I feel like a real person again. This is truly the happiest I've ever been.

Of course preschool does not take up much of the day, but this has been my first taste of freedom in many, many years. When I was home a lot more with my toddlers, blogging was easier since I was already home and needed an outlet to be myself. With my new freedom, though, I haven't been around my house as much and blogging became more of chore, just another thing that needed to be done, and it didn't fit in with the excitement I was feeling over my new life.

As the school year winds to a close, however, and I've now grown more accustomed to my new freedom, I want to become more active in blogging again. It is something I miss and I am back!

This, That, and The Other

2010-02-10T16:09:00.005-05:00

I don't normally post without some sort of subject or theme to write about, but I just realized that I haven't posted anything in nearly a month! I have really been staying away from blogging lately. No real reason. I've actually had a great winter, albeit a little too devoid of snow for my liking, but I've filled that void with lots of hot cocoa, some great reading, bright fires sparkling in the fireplace, and shopping for colorful winter accessories. Nothing I like more than putting on a bright hat or shoes when the world is drapped all in white. Currently, my favorite acquisition is a brilliant purple wool coat I've added to my winter wardrobe.

Let's see...what else? Well, it is my birthday month and I know how I'll be celebrating. I'm going to the Tim Burton exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City! Tim Burton ranks at the top of my list of favorite film makers. I love his slightly twisted and dark way of looking at the world, but still, at the same time, retaining a child-like outlook and curosity. Sleepy Hollow and The Nightmare Before Christmas are in my top ten favorite movies and, lucky me, I live close enough to the city to go see it! I'm especially excited to take my 4 year old who is a budding Tim Burton in his own right. Adam's extensive art is filled with skeletons, headless horsemen, and Frankenstein. I'm not even joking. The kid's a freak for Halloween.

And speaking of Halloween...I am planning a Halloween in April. You always hear of Christmas in July and I thought, "Hey! What about Halloween?" Halloween is way more fun for me and my kids are in love with the holiday as well. So, during their spring break, at the end of April, we will be partying like it's October! There will be dressing up, decorating the house, ghost stories around the bonfire, and a family day trip up to Salem, MA. Anyone else want to join me in making Halloween a twice yearly event? I will be blogging about Halloweeny things that whole week and any of you who are as prone to the spooky as I are welcome to join.

One last thing...a couple of weeks ago, I did this:

Yeah, I cut my hair. It hasn't been this short in nearly a decade. I am loving the bangs, and though I love the cut, having 3 1/2 inches chopped off is feeling a bit drastic. I think I'll let it grow a couple of inches. Since my hair has the superhuman ability to grow much faster than the average gal, it shouldn't take long. It's been a fun change.

Well, that's all for now. Hope you are all having as fabulous a winter as I!

2nd Annual Torturing of the Children

2010-01-18T13:18:00.001-05:00

Last year I started a tradition of giving my parents and Russ' parents new photos of our kids as part of their Christmas gift. I take the photos because don't even get me started on how much I hate school pictures. To start the tradition I bought each set of parents a really nice frame with 4 openings. I decided each year I would send a new set of pictures for them to put in those openings. Perfect, right?

The problem is (and often is) that I'm a procrastinator. I wait until the day is upon me. We're always running presents to the post office for Christmas or birthdays and keeping our fingers crossed that it all makes it in time. And each time I do this, I tell myself I will change. I will be more prepared next time. But, really, if I did end up making myself Ms. Prepared, I wouldn't be Alyson. And do I really want to change? Probably not. So, rushing and anxiety will just have to be part of my life. C'est la vie.

However, I'm going to have to figure out some way to trick my brain into getting the photos done in the beautiful and temperate autumn, ready and waiting to send off for Christmas. Both years now, I've managed to get myself stuck with only one day left to take pictures and it always happens to be in a blizzard (last year) or the coldest day of the year (this year). So, I drag them out into our yard, snap away on my camera and my fingers go numb and my lips turn blue and my kids whine and complain because I won't let them wear a big, ugly coat in their portrait. Sigh.

Despite the moaning and complaing, the staticy hair, and the numbness of extremities, I think I managed some pretty good shots. Could have been better if I had been able to spend more than 5 minutes on each kid because of fear of frostbite and charges brought against me for torture, but this is something I must try to remember for next year. I have a feeling, however, that I will be back here next year talking about my 3rd annual torturing of the children because I'm a die-hard procrastinator and that's how I roll.

Brooke (she was a trooper, I must admit)

David (definitely NOT a trooper, complained non-stop)

Caroline (poor thing had to deal with me constantly rubbing her head with a dryer sheet, because that's what you do with dry, winter, staticy hair to keep it from flying away. Good tip, right?)

Adam (total goofball, made it hard for me to get a picture without him crossing his eyes and making comic faces and you gotta love his red nose that gives his near frostbite away!)

Getting Reconfigured

2010-01-05T09:55:00.004-05:00

I feel like I've been in an alternate reality for the last couple of weeks and I'm having a hard time emerging back to my normal universe this week. I even got all misty-eyed Monday morning as I sent my husband back to work and my kids back to school. My alternate reality is full of sleeping in, lots of eating of lots of good food, and just general laziness. Hard to say good-bye to that lifestyle.

My husband always takes time off of work the week between Christmas and New Year's. I did have plans for taking some day trips, but between coming down with a cold and the crazy windy weather going on outside, we mostly just became lazy lay-abouts hanging around our warm house watching Dexter on dvd and playing with the kids. I guess I should say that I became the more lazy of us two. Russ worked on remodeling our half-bath. I mostly just watched and gave orders. I picked out the paint color (tibetan orange, by the way, and it looks awesome) and okayed the the beadboard and moldings and Russ did the work, which included installing a new toilet. Eww, but necessary.

One thing I did not do in this other reality was get on the internet. I did not check my blog and I didn't read any blogs either. My google reader is currently numbering in the hundreds. I didn't shop online or look things up. I just totally unplugged. I kept up with facebook through my blackberry, but had no desire to flip open my laptop. I have no idea why, but the internet holds about as much appeal as a moldy sandwich whenever I am in break-from-normal-life mode.

But I'm back now. Or trying to get back. Still a little sad about leaving my gluttous, lazy world behind. The transition can be a little unsettling for a few days since it consists of getting my internal alarm clock reconfigured to get me up at 6:15 every morning and training my stomach to be satiated with normal portions again. But I'm looking forward to being reconnected. Hope you all got as much sleep and yummy food as I did!

A Taste of the Season

2009-12-18T13:17:00.004-05:00

Peppermint has got to be one of my favorite flavors of the Christmas season. Along with egg nog, we buy peppermint ice cream as soon as it hits the stores for its all-too-short season. Peppermint is just such a clean, fresh, and cold taste. It tastes like winter.

So when an old, hometown friend posted a recipe for something called Peppermint Meltaways on facebook, I immediately wrote down the recipe and made it that very night.

To me they taste like extra light, fluffy sugar cookies with a peppermint twist. They really do melt in your mouth and they taste like Christmas in a cookie. My family gobbled them up immediately. And they make your whole house smell of peppermint. It puts you in that warm and fuzzy Christmas spirit. I plan on making these again next week for my kids' teachers.

Preparation time: 45 min
Baking time: 12 min
Yield: 4 dozen cookies

Cookie Ingredients:
1 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cornstarch

Glaze Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 tablespoons butter, softened
1 to 2 tablespoons milk
1/4 teaspoon peppermint extract
2 drops red food color, if desired
Candy canes or hard peppermint candy, crushed

Combine butter, powdered sugar and 1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract in large bowl. Beat at medium speed, scraping bowl often, until creamy. Reduce speed to low; add flour and cornstarch. Beat until well mixed. Cover; refrigerate until firm (30 to 60 minutes). Or put in the freezer for 15 mins.

Heat oven to 350°F. Shape rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into 1-inch balls. Place 2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. Let stand 1 minute; remove from cookie sheets. Cool completely.

Meanwhile, combine 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, 2 tablespoons butter, 1/4 teaspoon peppermint extract and enough milk for desired glazing consistency in small bowl. Stir in food color, if desired. Drizzle or spread over cooled cookies. Immediately sprinkle with crushed candy.

Snow Day

2009-12-14T10:06:00.004-05:00

Last Wednesday we had our first snow day of the year. Our first plowable snow. And I was as giddy as a child about it. There is something very special about winter in New England. Life slows down a bit. As a busy mother of four, I love this aspect. I'm so used to going, going, going, running kids back and forth. So, whenever I see a snowstorm coming in the forecast, I pray for a snow day just as much as the kids. Snow days give me the excuse for sleeping in, staying in my pjs all day, reading a book by the fire, drinking hot cocoa, and playing out in the snow with the kids. Snow days mean I don't have to do my hair and makeup and my car can stay in the garage all day. Ahh...heavenly.

Our house draped in the first snow fall of the year.

A view down our street, from the end of our driveway.

Self-portrait, my reflection in our front window.

I grew up in California and never got to experience these magical days of snow and laziness. As an adult, we lived in Park City, Utah for several years and I thought I'd finally get to experience one of them. But no. In that beautiful little ski resort town, snowstorms are measured in feet, not inches. And yet, snow days virtually do not exist. They are just too prepared for the snow to let it ever slow them down or shut down schools or churches.

New England, however, will take a snow day whenever they can get them. Down here in southern New England our winters really aren't that bad. It's certainly nothing compared to the Rocky Mountains or to much of the Midwest. Yet, whenever a snowstorm is coming or if it gets anywhere near zero degrees, everything shuts down. We all slow down. It is magical.

Besides, all the laziness there is also play. Lots and lots of play.

See that smile!

As Caroline poses and smiles, David gets ready to hammer someone with a snowball in the background.

Adam mocks his big brother behind his back.

Wednesday was also our 14th wedding anniversary. This lovely snow day felt like a beautiful gift and I didn't want it to end.

If the Threat of Santa Doesn't Work...There's Always Capital Punishment

2009-12-04T13:29:00.011-05:00

I don't know about you, but I find myself using the good ol' Santa threat a lot lately. As in, "Hey, you'd better stop hitting your sister right now or Santa won't bring you presents this year!" or "Do you want a lump of coal in your stocking?" It tends to quiet things down pretty quick, especially with the youngest ones. But the older kids? Well, they kind of know what's up and since they've never heard of any friend, in actuality, getting coal rather than presents, the threat can get pretty hollow.

We need only look to our puritanical ancestors for an example on how to quiet down our kids and get the respect we deserve. I love reading non-ficition about the religiously rigid founders of our country. They took God's commandments very seriously, so much so that biblical commandments were written into law with temporal punishments clearly spelled out. I've heard enough about their strange, zealot laws that I am rarely surprised when I hear a new one. That was until I started reading a book I recently picked up called The Naked Quaker: True Crimes and Controversies from the Courts of Colonial New England.

In Massachusetts, they took rebellious children into serious consideration when drawing up their laws. This law states: If a man have a stubborn or REBELLIOUS SON, of sufficient years & understand (viz) sixteen years of age, which will not obey the voice of his Father, or the voice of his Mother, and that when they chastened him will not harken unto them: then shall his Father & Mother being his natural parents, lay hold on him & bring him to the Magistrates assembled in Court & testify unto them, that their Son is stubborn & rebellious & will not obey their voice and chastisement, but lives in sundry notorious crimes, such a son shall be put to death.

Yeah, DEATH. Those puritans were hardcore. Now that's a threat that just might get the kids' attention....of course, it would probably perk up the ears of social services too.

Ah well, guess we'll have to just stick to Santa and lumps of coal.

The Sincerest Form of Flattery

2009-11-24T12:22:00.007-05:00

David donned his Harry Potter costume and set out to cast spells around the yard. Alone. Because he often likes to do imaginary play alone. I understand. I was the same way. I had secret, little scenarios in my head that I didn't want anyone else to ruin. I would star in my own imaginings and it was magical.

But poor David, he has Adam around. Adam wants to do what his big brother does, watch what he watches, and play what David plays. Adam put together a makeshift Potter costume with his bathrobe, a magician's wand, and his father's tie.

He followed David all around the yard, imitating his brother's magical moves, and pulling David out from the secret little world in his head. David didn't express much annoyance, but I could see it on his face from time to time. Even so, he was still sweet to his little impersonator.

Somtimes it's tough being somebody's hero.

Fall's Grand Finale

2009-11-17T09:11:00.003-05:00

As I begin to sadden at the thought that fall is over, just as most trees shed their majestic cloaks of color, a stunning grand finale takes place. The maples are the last to turn, and when maples turn it is absolutely stunning. They are the most beautiful of all the trees.

The two maples in front of my house turned a brilliant red. Every time I drove up my long driveway, the sight of my lovely red maples took my breath away.

Those maples stood out like two gems amongst the dying autumn. I adored them. But all good things must come to an end.

One of my red maples shed its beauty virtually overnight and I was left with a red carpet where my pathway used to be.

My grass morphed from green to ruby.

The red intermixes with the green of the shubbery. The colors remind me of Christmas and it feels like a ushering in of a new season.

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.- William Blake

A Thanksgiving with Goodwife Pease

2009-11-09T10:06:00.004-05:00

I have never been a Thanksgiving girl. As a child, I didn't get it. It was just a big dinner, right? It didn't have the fun and spookiness and candy of Halloween, nor did it have all the presents and glitter and lights of Christmas.

Even as an adult I haven't been especially fond of Thanksgiving. Of course, a big part of that is the fact that I married a man who is allergic to turkey. And, really, I'm not a big fan of that particular fowl anyway. So, to me, Thanksgiving just became an excuse to have a big dinner on our rapid ride toward Christmas.

But something happened to me after I moved to New England several years ago. This is the land of Thanksgiving, afterall. I live within driving distance of Plymouth. And, oh how I adore early American history! I read up on the first Thanksgiving. I have roots on the Mayflower and I have roots in the New England Native American tribes. The whole holiday took on more meaning for me.

In reading about Thanksgiving, I realized it wasn't just a single event. It was a tradition of our ancestors to have a feast of Thanksgiving when they were grateful, not just once a year after harvest. What a wonderful concept. Taking time to express gratitude and thanks to God. I fell in love with the whole notion.

So, now that I'm a fan of Thanksgiving, I want to decorate for the holiday. I'm sure I'll never have as many Thanksgiving decorations as I do Halloween or Christmas, but it's a holiday I now feel deserves some festivity and acknowledgement. Last week I sadly took down my beloved Halloween decor, but happily put together a Thanksgiving mantle in my living room.

I wasn't sure how I was going to decorate at first, but it all came together when I pulled a lighted Christmas garland out of a box in my attic. I then inserted the garland with some fall folliage and fruit. I also added a little autumn owl on the side and intermingled pinecones here and there. A couple of months ago, I also ordered a lovely Thanksgiving banner from Emily over at Art-N-Sewl. It is so beautiful. The word thankful is written in gold glitter. I love it!

I also just put up my new painting on the mantle. I commissioned this piece from Heather of Audrey Eclectic. I was so happy with the family portrait she painted of us earlier in the year, that I asked her to paint this portrait of Sarah Pease, my Salem witch ancester.

Isn't Goodwife Pease simply gorgeous? Of course, we have no idea what Sarah looked like in reality, but Heather did a wonderful job in her imaginings. Over Sarah's left shoulder, you see the little village of Salem and on her right you see the ocean. Also, above her there are owls with glaring yellow eyes sitting in the leafless trees. I love that touch. Heather painted Sarah holding bittersweet. It's very symbolic of her experience during the witch trials. The bitter comes from having been left to rot in the dungeon for over a year, but the sweet is that she was ultimately released when the witch trials were mercifully shut down.

Sarah will stay up all year long, but I do think it's rather appropriate that she made her debut during Thanksgiving. I don't doubt that the Pease family had their own feast of Thanksgiving when their Sarah was released from prison.

I am looking forward to taking the time with my family to slow down and gather together and acknowledge the blessings, even amongst the sorrows, we've been given this year.

I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving too!

An October Stroll Through A Cemetery

2009-10-27T12:54:00.003-04:00

An old New England, country cemetery...

The crunch of fallen leaves under foot at the front gate...

Won't you come along...

Peaceful and haunting...

Stories etched in stone...

A row of monuments, both beautiful and sad...

Stones drapped in colorful lichen and the forest painted in the hues of fall...

A heartbreaking tale of Our Alice, a toddler taken too soon from loving parents in another era, but the pain still reaches across time...

A sudden mist rises across the way by the empty church and chills me to the bone...

All alone on this October stroll. I leave to let the stories rest in peace for a time.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

2009-10-19T10:55:00.004-04:00

My driveway is normally like a long, winding black snake of concrete. But in the fall, a carpet of autumn color covers the winding snake like a blanket. I love to drive my car through the leaves and feel the crunch under my tires and watch the weightless leaves swirl around in my rear view mirror.

Autumn is my favorite season, but it is also bittersweet. It is a fleeting season. The beauty of it lasts for but a moment and then nature rests and hiberates for a season. I look forward, with the eagerness of a child, to fall. Then, when it is upon me, I am sad as well. It is so quick. Too quick.

It is beautiful, lovely, and sad all at the same time. Nature, like life, is ever changing, ever cycling. And the beauty of leaves in full color can be gone in an instant with just one swift, strong wind.

I know that in Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost is mainly referring to the first buds of spring. In New England, the birches first buds are actually gold. However, the gold makes me think more of fall.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

The day I took these pictures of my driveway was a windy day and leaves floated down like soft snow. As the leaves rained down, I snapped several quick shots.

A golden shower

David played in the leaves with his nerf gun, jumping from rock to rock, shooting at imaginary foes, and the line "her early leaf's a flower. But only so an hour" came to mind. Like fall, childhood is fleeting.

(Quick side note - sorry I have not been around to read many of your blogs or answer email. We've had quite a few house guests over the past month and I haven't had much time. Things will slow down this week, however, and I look forward to getting caught up with all of your blogs.)

Ride With the Moon In the Dead of Night

2009-10-09T15:49:00.006-04:00

The title to this post is a line taken from the song This is Halloween from the film A Nightmare Before Christmas. I love the imagery of that line. It evokes images of the classic, cackling witch riding on a broom, passing by a full, autumn moon. Ahhh, Halloween. Love it. And love all the fun, spooky paraphernalia that goes along with it.

My house has been bedecked and bejeweled in all its Halloween finest since Labor Day. A bit early, I know, and we did get quite a few laughs and strange looks when we were asking for Halloween lights by the first of September, but I have a hard time resisting the Halloween itch for long. It's fun and it simply makes me happy.

So, I am posting a few of my Halloween decorations (not of them because that would be a very long post). I'll start in our living room. We have four fireplaces in our house, but our living room fireplace is my favorite to decorate during the holidays.

First of all, check out my fabulous new Halloween banner. I really adore it. My friend, Emily, over at Art-n-Sewl made it. (She also made me a Thanksgiving one, but I'll save that photo for after Halloween.)

In glitter letters, the banner spells "Spooky".

I also love this haunted house that I bought at Yankee Candle Village this year. The spider webs are an annual favorite for me. They are annoying and time-consuming to set up, but my kids always enjoy them, and so do I really.

In my dining room, I have another vinette set up.

Just have to brag about that family portrait again. Heather over at Audrey Eclectic made it for me earlier in the year.

I just picked up that Happy Halloween banner on my mirror this year. I bought it at Target and I love the bold, colorful statement. And do you see the witch riding past the moon? Like I said before, one of my favorite Halloween images. Hence, the title of this post.

My pumpkin tree man has been one of my favorites for a few years now. I call it my Halloween tree, not unlike a Christmas tree. I picked him up from Michael's. That store is always full of wonderful fall decorations.

Stepping away from Halloween for a moment, check out those monograms. The "A" is for Alyson and the "R" is for Russ, my husband. These creations were also made by the amazing Emily. I love the pages from an old book that make the background of the monograms. Creates such a vintage look. Here's a closer look.

Ok, back to Halloween.

This is also in my dining room. By the way, I bought that table from Ikea and then painted it with an orange milk paint called Autumn Haze and then coated it with a amber glaze and distressed it. I love it! But I digress, that's not what this post is about. On this table, is my candle topped with a ceramic candle topper.

There is a hole in the middle of the topper to allow in oxygen, of course. The flame coming through that opening gives it an eery glow. This is also one of my favorite Halloween decorations. It was yet another purchase from Yankee Candle Village a few years ago. Speaking of candles, for autumn I recommend Yankee Candle pumpkin spice scent and also fall festival. Those are my two favorites for this time of year.

I hope you all have a safe and happy Halloween season. This is one of the best times of the year, so enjoy it! I know I am. I still have some apple picking and a hay ride to look forward too. Not to mention our annual October trip out to Sleepy Hollow, NY. Fall really makes me happy. Can you tell?

And We Didn't Want It To End...

2009-09-25T16:14:00.004-04:00

Life moves so fast. Kids grow overnight. Day to day is hectic and often overwhelming. There are many days when the only chance I have to talk to my husband is over the fever pitch of activity over the homework table, sometimes not even that. Over 20 years ago, the very wise teen Ferris Bueller, the brain child of the even wiser late John Hughes, said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." Decades later, it's still true, perhaps even more true.

So, we did "stop and look around" and suddenly wished life wasn't so fast for just that day. Our vacation in Cape Ann ended in Rockport and the day was precious and we felt it.

We had never been to Rockport before and it was just a magical place. If Disneyland had a New-England-seaside-town-land, then Rockport would be it. It was charming and put us immediately at ease. All of our stress was washed away in the sea breeze and perma-smiles took the place of worry lines.

Flowers blooming outside of a little shop.

My family looking out at the fishing shack.

Rockport is bewitching and peaceful and has become a haven for artists. In fact, the red fishing shack my family is looking at in the above photo has become so famous amongst artists that is simply known, the world over, as motif number 1.

A better view of motif number 1.

Beauty, flowers, and the like abounded everywhere.

Colorful kayaks

and colorful boats

Cute shops and chocolatey treats, and we did take advantage.

Caroline is walking to shore in the very colorful jacket she bought in Rockport.

Then the sun set on our lovely day.

Sunset over the harbor in Bearskin Neck in Rockport.

But even night in Rockport holds a magic all its own.

Twinkly lights were lit and the air was smooth and cool. We wrapped ourselves in our hoodies, visited the quaint shops decorated in strings of light that looked like fireflies, ate handmade chocolate, and laughed and teased each other. And we didn't want it to end.

Getting Candid in Salem and Cape Ann

2009-09-14T15:43:00.002-04:00

This post is really meant to be an ode to a telephoto lens. Last year I bought a 70-300 mm telephoto lens. I've used it, but not much. I saw the value in it, but didn't know exactly what I'd use it for. Plus, it's bulky and didn't know if I wanted to haul it around much, but then we went on vacation last month, and that's when I realized how amazing this little tool is.

We all do the posed, cheesy photos on vacation. They really are a must, but we rarely get to capture those candid moments. I think one of the main reasons we don't is because of the kids themselves. I don't know about anyone else's kids, but as soon as my kids see me pull out the camera, they start hamming it up and I am bombarded by poses galore and shouts of "mommy, look at me!". However, with a telephoto lens, they can be very far away from me and they aren't even aware that I've got my camera to my eye and am snapping away. So many wonderful, candid shots are captured and they are just being themselves and not their crazy, phony, I'm-in-front-of-camera mode.

Two of my favorite shots from our entire holiday came after a day at the beach. The kids played hard at Half Moon Beach in Gloucester, Massachusetts. As we sat around in the grass, waiting for everyone to use the bathroom and wash up, I saw just how tired my kiddies were.

Caroline is spent and takes a moment to rest. The blue in the background is the ocean.

Sweet boys tuckered out by hardcore swimming.

A walk along Derby Wharf turns into play for the kids.

Here I capture the boys running around Derby lighthouse, even though I was very, very far away. I love my lens! And I love my boys.

Caroline running along the wharf. Kids always seem to run everywhere. So glad I can capture these playful moments.

Through some wildflowers, I find my youngest son and youngest daughter playing in the pebbles along the shore.

Adam in curious mode.

A little tired out after all that running. Look at all that lovely Salem background.

In Gloucester, Caroline just about gives me a heart attack playing along the railings. On the other side is a sharp drop to the ocean.

David is always on the move and hard to photograph. I love that I managed to capture his curious nature from afar.

In Cape Ann, my oldest and youngest play in the ocean.

Adam emerges from the ocean in a sheet of water.

Adam attempts to build a sandcastle. Due to his impatient nature, it didn't last long.

Another wonderful reason to take a telephoto lens on vacation is to get close ups of far away detail.

The Derby Custom House is one of my favorite structures in Salem. Of course, The Scarlett Letter always comes to mind when I see it. In the first chapter, Nathanial Hawthorne (a Salem native) describes the custom house in detail. And, with my telephoto lens, I am able to photograph my favorite detail of the building.

The golden eagle glittering in the sun.

Deep Roots and Dark Storms in Salem

2009-09-02T11:39:00.011-04:00

I was born with an artist's soul. My temperment is sensitive and emotional. I tend to feel things deeply and form connections quickly. I think being an artist at heart also provides one with a deep desire to analyze ourselves and others, to understand what lies just beneath the surface of every human being.

What does all this have to do with my holiday in Salem and Cape Ann, you may ask? Well, I have always had an abiding interest in my genealogy. Most of the family history seekers, it seems, are retirees or those entering into middle age, who are looking for a lasting place in this world. However, I took up the hobby when I was about 11 or 12. I was fascinated by it, entranced, really. I quickly gobbled up all the names and places that made up me. Being Mormon, I was blessed with much of my genealogy done long before I was born. Many of my lines stretch back into the middle ages and beyond and I found it all intoxicating. My hertiage is expansive. My roots are planted in many countries. My family tree looms over much of the earth, connected by all the varied roots and branches. I am a mutt, really. I loved that. I loved learning of all the different countries and imaging what my ancestors were like in these various cultures.

I now understand why genealogy became my drug of choice from such an early age. It is precisely because of my yearning to understand myself more. I am a believer that all of our experiences and memories imprint themselves onto our cells and are passed down from generation to generation. I really do believe that we are changed at a celluar level by experience. The stuff of which we are made is changed by life, and it is passed down. These are not my religious beliefs, but I feel it is true. Because of this belief, I feel my ancestors and their experiences, along with my own, literally make me who I am.

Not only was I blessed with charts and charts of my various lines, but we also had many life histories to read. I would devour these stories, imaging what it felt like to go through what they did, imaging myself there. One ancestral story, however, didn't make it down through the generations. I don't know if this story was some sort of shameful secret hushed through the years, but I never knew that I had a direct ancestor who was imprisoned as a witch in Salem in 1692. This seems like the sort of the story that would make the cut and become legend amongst the descendents, but it was lost to history. I was the one to discover this connection. After moving to New England, I wanted to search out my roots here. I saw Sarah Pease's name on my chart and I saw that she died in Salem in 1702. I knew that meant she had lived in Salem during the witch hysteria. On a whim, I looked up her name on the internet and, to my amazement, she had been accused of witchcraft and imprisoned in the dungeon for a year . She escaped death because the governor of Massachusetts had shut the trials down. She was a lucky one; though, that experience must have stayed with her forever. It must have altered her in ways unseen to the eye. I wondered if she had life-long nightmares after her life in chains in a dirty, drafty dungeon, fearing death may come any day. She lived only nine years after her imprisonment. Was her death hastened by her trauma?

Soon after discovering Sarah Pease, I took a day trip to search her out, to see where she lived, and I've been to Salem several more times. Luckily, I don't live too far. When we decided to take a quick, end-of-the-summer vacation, Salem made it to the top of my list. I always love it there. Besides, we are moving to the Boston area next year and this was a good excuse to explore north shore real estate.

We started at the Salem Witch Museum. I'd been to the museum before during the Halloween season last year, but I wanted my kids to go and hear the story of what happened to their grandmother. Thankfully, they enjoyed their time there and their ancestor's life became more real for them.

At the museum there is a large chart on the wall of all those who were accused of witchcraft in 1692. And there was Sarah. In the above photo, you see her about the eighth name down. It says she lived in Salem Town. Where she once lived is in modern-day Peabody, on a very busy street. A duplex stands where her home once stood and a tattoo parlor is across the street. I'm sure if she wandered down Central Street in Peabody today, it would be completely unrecognizable to her. In some ways, that makes me sad. Things change so quickly in our world.

The sight that greeted me as I stepped out of the museum. This is statue of the founder of Salem, Roger Conant. I've taken many photos of him, but not from this angle. I love the federal style building behind him, a sure sign of Salem's age.

After our journey back in time to see life as it was for Grandmother Pease, we wandered around Salem Commons. Clouds began to form and large drops slowly landed on our heads. Hurricane Bill had come upon us. Though along the New England coast, it was only a tropical storm.

The thing I find fascinating about storms, particulary in New England, is the beauty and color that are displayed both before and after the storm has passed. The sky morphs into all sorts of colors and the light that surrounds you is more like a glow. As the storm rolled in it was at first a dark blue. As we passed by Saint Peter's, the sky was deep, yet bright blue.

Then we took a few steps in another direction and as we walked by another church, the sky was black and grey though there was a bright, purplish glow that surrounded us. I found it breathtaking.

We drove as the storm began to rage. The rain pounded so hard on the car, that we had to yell above the din to hear each other. As we explored the coastal towns, I began to fear. What if we turn onto a road that leads to the ocean and we lose control of the car? What if a massive wave overtakes us out of nowhere and we are swallowed into the depths of the sea?

Mercifully, the storm passed quickly and we found ourselves in Marblehead. We came to the end of a road and suddenly there was a lighthouse just as it cleared and the rain ceased. We didn't know this lighthouse was there. It was a happy accident.

The sky in Marblehead harbor after the storm was dark and deep with spots of calming light peaking through. All that was there reflected the blue of the ocean and the sky. We were all bathed in a cool-toned hue.

There was a comforting film of humidity hugging us, like a blanket, in the cool ocean breeze. The kids played in the metal web structure surrounding the lighthouse. Russ and I sat on the benches that looked out over the harbor. I reflected on the beauty that comes only after a storm has passed and I thought of my life and I thought of Sarah Pease's life. I wondered what her life was like after her storm had passed. I thought of the current storm that has created a whirlwind in my world lately and I knew, as I pondered, that after it has passed, there will be a beauty that could have only been witnessed by enduring the storm.

All I have to do is find my lighthouse.

I wonder if Sarah ever found her's.

(more on our trip next time)

In An Empty Field

2009-08-27T13:19:00.000-04:00

I've come to realize that it is my lot in life to have to always convince myself that I am worth something. Sometimes I have to tell myself, like a mantra, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!" But most of the time I feel like I'm screaming it in an empty field and no one is listening, including myself.

From a very young age I thought I was crap. Ok, crap with potential, but crap nonetheless. Insecurity was part of my personality, part of the very fabric of my being. Then something very traumatizing happened to me as a child. It went on for the most formative years of my life, crushing my spirit and wounding my heart. It validated my natural feelings of worthlessness. If someone thinks so little of you to do something like that, then you really must be nothing.

Little did I know, I would be battling people all my life to prove my worth to myself, feeling like a lone warrior unsure of my cause, but fighting it all the same. I've had a sometimes painful relationship with family because I feel betrayed. A few have been big supporters, but most don't understand my point of view and think I should get over it. I don't understand how they can accept someone into the family that would hurt me so deeply and scar me so permanently. It's been a roller coaster of emotion dealing with all the conflicting feelings I have surrounding my family. And I mainly deal with this roller coaster by avoidance. I just don't step on the ride. It's easier and less painful than actually confronting the issue and take the risk of not being validated. There is nothing more gut-wretching than not being validated over something that is part of your soul.

Just recently, I was let down by my church, as well, because of this issue. At first they saw the injustice in my situation and were motivated to do something about it, but in the end they just decided to do nothing. I won't go into detail, but it felt like yet another instance of someone telling me that I'm not worth the effort, that what I went through wasn't worth the time and wasn't that important. It was a punch in the gut. Another betrayal.

The only constant, nearly the only person I have never felt betrayed by, is my husband. I thank my Heavenly Father for him every day. If I didn't have him, I'd probably be a patient in a psych ward by now. I'm not even kidding. I would be in a fetal position in a corner of a padded room sucking my thumb. I guess with betrayal being rampant in my life, God decided to bless me with the most loyal man who ever lived.

But how do I keep telling myself that I am worth something when my whole life experience gives me the opposite message?

This recent experience with my church has rocked my world and made me question everything. It feels like a tornado has swept through my soul and swirled around all that resided comfortably there until nothing is recognizable. My house has landed in Oz, and I know this land not.

I love the gospel I've been taught in my religion. I've studied it in detail. I'm not just a blind sheep, following what I was taught as I child. I will only have faith in something that I believe and feel is right. In order to know it's right for me, I studied. I've studied other religions as well and I still like what I hear best in the religion of my youth. I love how it makes me feel. I sense a truth to it, something that resonates in my soul. But how do I reconcile what they decided and what I feel is right? It's a struggle. I want my children raised in it because it gave me such a great moral compass when I was growing up. There were certain things I knew to be right and knew to be wrong and though I was often a pain in the butt for my parents and did stupid, immature things, I had a good center. I wasn't going to stray too far. I want that for my children. My husband was raised in it as well and he is a good and righteous man because of it. It was formative into making him an amazing husband and father.

I feel that if I stay, and not fight, then I am saying, "yeah, you're right. I'm not worth it. What happened wasn't important. Don't worry about little ol' piece of crap me." But leaving doesn't feel right either. I don't know the exact answer yet. So, I try and have patience. I try to take things one step at a time. All in the Lord's time. But patience was never a natural virtue for me.

Some things give me hope. I recently had an amazing conversation with a member of my family after months of emails full of disagreement and misunderstanding. He said his heart had been softened to my words. He said he finally understood me. It was a salve to my soul. It was a miracle to me. It was a blessing from God. And my heart was open to him and to hope again.

Hope is renewed, but anger and frustration is still there too. I sometimes feel like I'm on a teeter totter, one day seemingly sure of the direction I'll take and the next day feeling totally disgusted by what I thought I was so sure of. I know my internal struggle is not over. I will keep pushing. I will keep pursuing my cause with my church and, perhaps, the law as well. I will keep doing my best with the hand I've been dealt. It is the right thing to do. I know it. Giving up is not an option. Something inside, some small speck within me, knows my worth and won't let me give up on myself or what I believe.

Just wish I knew where this journey is taking me. But I have always been an optimist and I know wherever I am lead, I will be better for it.

A Summertime Recipe...of Sorts

2009-08-07T11:41:00.001-04:00

This post will probably interest curly/wavy/frizzy headed ladies more than it will foodies. It's not that kind of recipe. As all my fellow frizz-heads know, our hair requires the mindset of a chemist. We have to experiment. There's a lot of mixing of this and that. There's a lot of trial and error going on. It can be frustrating.

Sometimes I just wish I had the perfect curls, like my son. Adam has those lovely, fine curls that spring even more to life when it's humid and work just as well in the dry weather. They are just the perfect little corkscrews. Total perfection.

But I have the frizz variety. And my hair changes constantly. I didn't even have curly hair until I hit puberty. With each pregnancy my hair has gotten curlier or straighter. Sometimes its simply wavy and other times its very curly. In my family, it seems the women's hair is a slave to the hormone cycle. So, you can see why it is so elusive to come up with the perfect concoction for my tresses.

Most of the year, I round brush my hair straight. I prefer it that way, but in the summer there is no way. My hair would curl and spring in protest to the humidity in the air. So, I never even bother in the summer. It's au natural.

For years and years I've tried finding the exact right combination of products for my curly-haired look. I've found that there is no one product that does it. It takes at least 2 or 3 products to even begin to make it work. Well, last summer I found my trifecta! And it's worked for 2 straight summers, which is unheard of for my hair.

My recipe is...

(Bumble & Bumble Curl Conscious Creme)

(Bumble & Bumble Defrizz)

(Aussie Aussome Volume Spray Gel)

I'm not claiming my hair is the pinnacle of perfection, but this stuff is making my hair manageable and that's all I can ask for in the summer.

And, by the way, I have no idea why Aussie volume spray gel works for me. The last thing I ever look for in a product is the word volume. I've got volume coming out the wazoo. I've got so much hair that my hairdressers always feel the need to say, "wow, you have a lot of hair. I mean A LOT." So, as you can imagine, volume is not a key word for me. However, this stuff works for me.

I put in the creme and defrizz and comb it through with a wide tooth comb and then spray on the gel. Scruntch it a bit and viola! I'm done. Without this combo, I'm a total frizz-head. With it, it's manageable. And this stuff isn't just good in the summer. I use this all year-round, particulary on days when I'm running short on time.

Oh, and I also use the defrizz when I straighten my hair. It makes it all shiny and soft. Bumble and Bumble is not cheap. In fact, it's one of the more expensive brands, but it's worth it.

I hope this helps my frizzy sisters and I'd love to hear what you all use to tame your tresses (on all types of hair).

Red Sox, Tradition, and a Walk Through a Graveyard

2009-07-29T19:40:00.012-04:00

I grew up in California and, let me tell you, baseball is a whole other beast on the east coast. Yeah, we like baseball on the west coast. It's fun to catch a game. You know, like it's fun to catch a movie. Baseball here, however, is a religion. People fight. They get angry if you don't believe in their religion (i.e., baseball team). Growing up outside of the bay area, we had both the San Francisco Giants and Oakland A's to route for. Most people seemed to like both or if they prefered one, they didn't seem to care if you prefered the other. No big deal. Here, though, in the northeast, we have the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees, and people are passionate about their team. They will argue with you if you like the other. When we bought our son's Red Sox bedding, the checker at the cash register gave us a dirty look. We knew what that meant immediately. Uh oh, she's a Yankees fan. She mumbled a few derrogatory comments about the Sox. We laughed. She didn't.

Reminds me of a quote from David Sedaris' book Me Talk Pretty One Day. He grew up in North Carolina where college sports are big and so is the rivarly. He says, "the question of team preference was common in our part of North Carolina, and the answer supposedly spoke volumes about the kind of person you either were or hoped to become." So it is in Connecticut with the Red Sox and the Yankees.

If you live in northern California and you get a sudden urge to go catch an A's game the next day, no prob. You can show up at the ticket booth before the game, and you're in. Not only are you in, you can get great tickets to boot. Yeah, umm, not so easy out here. You can't just show up at Fenway Park and expect to get good seats to the Red Sox game that day. People actually inherit season tickets. This is a generations thing. However, we are lucky enough to have a friend, Donna, who is from the Boston area and her home church stake gets tickets every year. She and her husband scooped up a bunch and we were able to buy a couple off of her. (Thanks, Donna!)

My son and husband were the lucky ones to go (my son is pictured above). When my son woke up the day of the game, he said it was the best day EVER. He got to buy a jersey with Ortiz emblazoned on the back the day before and he was proud as a peacock to go Boston in his get-up. Taking the T to Fenway, packed with other fiesty Red Sox fans, added to his excitement.

And this is what they saw when they got to Fenway:

While I have never been to a game, I have been to Fenway and it's lovely and historical. I find the park utterly charming and I can't imagine the excitement of being there on game day.

While my men were away, I didn't want to sit around the house all day with three bored kids. It was a nice day outside, so we explored an old cemetery near our home. Believe it or not, my kids enjoy reading the stones and making up stories about the lives of these people as much as I do. It was a nice diversion since we all really wished we could be at the game too.

I lugged my big camera case along because old cemeteries are a great place to take portraits. No, seriously. They are. The texture of the old stones adds dimension to the subject.

Like this

Or this

For close-ups, portraits at a cemetery can be beautiful. I adore the lichen on the weathered stone. It adds color and rough texture, and the green of the grass gives the photo a great splash of color against the cold grey of the stone.

The cemetery sits right next to an equestrian community that is surrounded by a stone wall. Stone walls are one of the lovely treasures of the New England countryside. So, as we walked back to the car, I had Caroline hop up on the wall and took a couple of quick shots before leaving.

After we got back home, the girls and I (Adam slept) did a spa night with homemade facials and cucumbers on the eyes (no, I will not post those photos. They would kill me). We put hot olive oil in our hair and I painted all their pretty little fingernails and toes. While we were doing that, my men were doing this (and, yes, we were a little jealous):

While I am not a big sports fan myself, I love the idea of living in a city who is passionate about their team. It brings a city together in their adoration. It adds life and vibrancy to a city made of lifeless steel and stone. This is something Connecticut lacks. The love of a sports team plays right into my love of tradition. It is something to rely on and look forward to. New England is a land steeped in tradition and baseball is definitely a part of that. I can't wait to move up to my beloved Boston next year and I'll be routing for the Red Sox, along with the other 4.5 million others who call greater Boston home.

One of the great traditions of Fenway Park is the singing of Sweet Caroline during the middle of the 8th inning. (You may have seen this in the movie Fever Pitch.) The whole crowd sings along with the lyrics and it actually gives me chills. Yeah, I know I'm a big dork, but if I were there, I'd probably be in tears. Not because I have my own little, sweet Caroline (though that's pretty cool too), but because it is tradition and it's bringing nearly 40,000 people together in song and a mutual love of a team and city. I find that pretty amazing.

Video my husband took of "Sweet Caroline" at the game he attended with my son.

House Hunting in Beantown

2009-07-17T14:36:00.001-04:00

Yes, it's true! We're really looking into moving to Boston next year. Well, not in Boston, more like around Boston. I left my heart in Boston the moment I stepped onto the commons when I first moved to New England several years ago.

Connecticut is great. Connecticut is beautiful. It is stunning, but I don't like living so far from a big city. We're smack dab in the middle of New York City and Boston and we're not close enough to either to make a quick run into a city when we feel like it. It has to be planned, and I don't like that.

Boston is oozing with colonial history, which I adore. Plus, you've got Salem nearby and the ocean. Oh, and of course the cape is a stone's throw from the city. I dream of spending my summer and fall days exploring Cape Cod. So, to Boston we will go.

There are, however, many, many suburbs of Boston. And since I'm not a complete city gal (like living country, close to a city), suburbs is where we will be seeking. We took our first house hunting trip last weekend to scope out the south shore area. South shore has got to be my favorite Boston suburb. As the name suggests, it's on the shore. The shoreline runs along Cape Cod bay and Massachusetts bay. So, right off the bat it's gorgeous. The main town in south shore is Plymouth. You know....THE Plymouth...the Plymouth where pilgrims stepped ashore on a very small rock and had the first Thanksgiving.

So, our analysis of Plymouth was this - it's a great town to visit. There's a lot of good ol' American history to gander at there and there are some really beautiful spots, but the town wasn't quite quaint enough for our liking. There was a lot of shopping centers and a few housing developments; those are the things I left behind on the west coast and don't care for. So, even though Plymouth has the most affordable housing in the area, we decided to look at some of the smaller towns in south shore. I don't mind paying more for charming.

We then went 5 miles down the road to Duxbury. Oh, Duxbury. Sweet, sweet Duxbury. How I love thee! I would honestly live in a shack to live in Duxbury. I first went there on a very cold December day a few years ago. Even though it wasn't the most beautiful time of year to go there, I found it breathtaking. The houses are all so adorable with colorful clapboard siding on the front and natural wood shingles on the sides, very New England coastal looking. The town also has beautiful beaches and it is lousy with charm. It's full to brim with quaintness. Love it.

Plus, Duxbury was founded by my ancestors. The first settlers there were Mayflower passangers John Alden and Myles Standish, both of whom I directly descend. Whenever I go to Duxbury my first stop is at the Myles Standish burying ground. This is the oldest cemetery in the United States. If you understand my love of old cemeteries, you'd know why this would be such a draw for me. That would just be the coolest for me to live in the town of the oldest cemetery.

We always stop by and say hello to grandpa Standish.

The kids cannot help but play all over Standish's grave. Those cannons are just too tempting.

Adam checking out the old gravestones.

Of course we also visit grandpa John Alden when we're at the cemetery. My blogger friend, Heidi, is also his granddaughter. Hi cousin! :)

After the cemetery, we explored the real estate of the town and found a couple of great leads. Then we headed to the coast in Duxbury. The more beautiful, sandy beaches are designated for residents or to those who buy a pass.

My people, all in a line, walking to shore.

It was a bit chilling in the evening, so Caroline cuddled with her daddy on the beach.

We then left my beloved Duxbury and headed a little north to Scuitate. One of my friends used to live in south shore and she recommended this town and I'm so glad she did! It's a quaint fishing village and, apparently, has the highest concentration of Irish-Americans in the whole state.

The big surprise of Scuitate was the beautiful lighthouse. I had no idea and I adore lighthouses. I took the picture at the top of this post there.

We got to the lighthouse at sunset. It couldn't have been timed more perfectly. I felt such peace and joy at experiencing the beauty of this place with my family.

Me and my girls.

Caroline looking out to sea.

We will be looking at more Boston suburbs in the coming months, but south shore does have a hold of my heart.

Before we can move, however, we must sell our house. Not looking forward to that. We will be working on home improvements over the year (I'm sure I will be posting pictures) and that should take up most of our extra time and money, but if it gets us there, I don't mind.

Oliver Cromwell (a.k.a. Ollie)

2009-06-15T10:54:00.004-04:00

Meet Oliver Cromwell, more affectionately known as "Ollie".

He's the newest edition to the family. Since I've already given birth to four babies and know how expensive and time consuming human children are, I decided the only way I'd bring another being into the family is if he didn't require a nine month pregnancy or to be taught his abc's.

So, enter Oliver. Ollie is half maltese, half min pin (just look at that cute stubby, little min pin tail and beautiful maltese eyes). He's what they call a malti-pin. He's a sweet guy that is so loving, but he really needs to be socialized since he was basically a shut-in with his previous owner. He was left alone all day and never got out of the house except to his owner's apartment balcony. Sad, right?

We take him to our neighborhood bog nearly everyday. And he loves it. See here...

Ollie is adored by all the kids, even Adam.

But don't be fooled...

Even though it appears Adam is just loving on Ollie here, do you see how he's holding Ollie's face? Yeah, he's a little rough on the poor doggie, but Oliver just deals with it. Adam is the baby human of the family and we have seen some jealousy over the attention his furry little brother is receiving. I have to keep a close eye when Adam plays with Ollie, that's for sure. But I'm not too worried, I'm sure the love/hate relationship between them will eventually soften to love/love.

Oh, and the name? No, I didn't name him Oliver Cromwell because I have a particular affinity for 17th century British puritans who violently overturn their government. Nope. The name came courtesy of Monty Python. They wrote a song called Oliver Cromwell that I used to listen to in high school (and it actually helped me during my European history class, as did Monty Python's Galaxy Song help me in a science class. Their song Medical Love Song could probably help in sex ed too). Our dog did not start off with the surname of Cromwell, but every time I said his name, I sang the song in my mind. I'd hear John Cleese's posh voice singing of the Lord Protector of England. So, he has become our own little Ollie Cromwell.

My favorite line from the Monty Python tune is - "The most interesting thing about King Charles the First is that he was 5 foot 6 inches tall at the start of his reign, but only 4 foot 8 inches tall at the end of it. Because of.....Oliver Cromwell"

Though I'm sure our little Cromwell won't be so blood-thirsty as to desire anyone's beheading, I'm thinking that if Adam doesn't back off a bit, Ollie just may display some of his namesake's tendencies.

So far, though, so good.

Snapshots of a New England May

2009-06-09T10:02:00.005-04:00

Out to the neighborhood swimming hole in the warm May weather. Kids wish they had remembered their bathing suits...

Our town's little red covered bridge. It is New England, afterall....

Now cross the bridge to watch the fishers by the fishing pond...

Riding on daddy's shoulders is always a favorite warm weather activity...

As soon as the warmth hits, it's our tradition to head to our neighborhood dairy farm, run by the same family since 1768...

And there we eat their homemade ice cream...

And eat...

Until it melts and drips...

The mess is definitely worth it.

Connoisseur O' Scent

2009-05-08T15:33:00.009-04:00

I love smelly candles. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE them. When a new season is upon us, my first thought turns to picking out the perfect smell that will enhance our enjoyment of the change in season. I relish it and when a certain scent doesn't live up to expectations, I get very disappointed and a new hunt begins. Now that it is nearly summer, I've pulled out my favorites for the warm weather and this week I went and stocked up on some more.

Earlier this week, my friend, Donna, and I took our little boys up to Yankee Candle Village. It is a fabulous place to spend a day and my kids love it there. It's massive. Each new person I take up there ends up feeling lost in the gigantic store. It is filled with Yankee Candles, of course, but also home decor, Christmas and Halloween villages, a toy store, a year-round Santa, a candle making museum, a cafe, and a yummy restaurant. If ever you are in western Massachusetts, you must make a stop there. Since it isn't far from my home, I go several times a year.

The grounds around Yankee Candle Village are flawless. Flowers were blooming everywhere.

Our boys posed for some pictures on the stone lion on the Yankee Candle grounds.

My son couldn't resist acting out the part of the lion, being the little actor that he is. He even used his gum to recreate the lion's sharp, front teeth. He always makes me laugh.

This is the yummy restaurant where they serve traditional New England cuisine.

Ok, so unto my summer favorites. I found these two scents about two years ago and I haven't found any I like better. These just represent warm, lazy summer days, fireflies, and the beach to me.

First is Lime Vanilla:

Vanilla Lime has a really fresh, tropical smell without being obnoxious. Those clean, citrus scents just scream summer to me.

Second is Sun & Sand:

Sun & Sand is fabulous. It smells just like Coppertone sunscreen. It reminds me of my childhood days in California, soaking up the rays in Santa Cruz. I always light this one during a heat wave. For some reason, the beachy smell makes the heat more bearable.

Before I went to Yankee I was determinded to find a bowl that I could stack my yummy, summer fruit in and I found it. The home decor at Yankee Village tends to be rustic, country which also happens to be the style I prefer and I found this lovely, red colander. It wasn't a fire engine red, but rather that faded, country red with I adore.

And, really, nothing says summer more than a bowl overflowing with lovely, fresh fruit sitting on the kitchen table. Bring on the summer!

A Story To Tell

2009-04-29T15:26:00.004-04:00

Do you see anything a bit odd about this picture? At first, all you see are a couple of cute boys, just hanging out, but look closer. They're actually sitting on an old, 18th century lichen covered tomb. Sort of macabre? No, not really.

Donna and I took our boys to my town's cemetery that dates back to the 17th century. The boys ran and played and enjoyed their time there as if it were built just for their pleasure. There is something so life-affirming about seeing children playing in a cemetery. Very circle of life. It reminds of the stories I've heard of the Jewish children playing in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Prague during World War II because it was the only place that Jewish children were allowed to play under Nazi rule. Very haunting, and yet there is a beauty to a child's ability to overcome sadness and fear and just be carefree for awhile.

I love cemeteries not because I'm macabre, not because I am a dark person who dwells on death, but because cemeteries hold a thousand stories. They have endless tales to tell. As someone who considers herself a storyteller, it's simply irresistible.

Whenever I write a story, there is always sadness in them. I'm drawn to that emotion. I love to tell the story of a person deep in sorrow who is able to overcome. Perhaps I just understand that story all too well.

Here's a story I found at the Ancient Burying Grounds in Hartford, Connecticut.

"Drowned in the glory of his years and left his mate to drown herself in tears."

Dr. Thomas Langrell died at age 29 in 1757. So young and he left a young, sorrowful widow. This epitaph is full of emotion, true love, and sadness. I wonder what became of Mrs. Langrell. I hope she didn't drown in her tears. I hope she found happiness again. I hope love and laughter eventually made their way back into her life.

Every time I read a tombstone like this, I can feel their stories aching to be told. It is like a surge through my body of pure emotion. I feel an empathy and compassion. I only wish I had a thousand years left to tell them. So many stories to be told and I wish I could tell them all.

Recommended Listening - "Tombstone" by Suzanne Vega. Great song!

Queens and Crypts

2009-04-24T16:42:00.009-04:00

This is my dear friend, Andrea. She and I were friends in high school. I'll always have fond memories of driving to San Jose with her to take the ACT (even though she didn't need to take it) and to gorge ourselves on some Ben and Jerry's. Being the great student she was, she actually studied for it and I didn't. She was always great at studying and she obviously still is because she is currently a PhD candidate. She is also a teacher at an all-girls orthodox Jewish college in Manhattan. She lives in Queens, which is nice for me. When I need my city fix, I can just go visit her. Or when I need my super-long girl talk, I can go visit her as well.

During my birthday month celebrations, I took a day trip to see her while my husband took a day off work to watch the kiddos (what a great guy!). When I got to Andrea's cute row house, she had lunch waiting for me. She is such an awesome cook and she even sent me home with the yummy Greek cheeses that I raved over. They were seriously delicious. Anyway, as we dined on her homemade tomato soup and salad, we talked. And we talked. And talked some more. There is nothing I like more than a great, endless sort of conversation with a friend. Even with our endless chatting, we managed to get out and take a walk and eat at her neighborhood bakery.

A view from her neighborhood

Astoria is heavily populated by Greek people (Andrea being one of them). I find New York fascinating in that way. They say birds of a feather flock together and that really seems to be true there. There are lots of neighborhoods and communities made up of mostly one ethnic or religious group.

In this picture you can see the sign that says "Greek American News Photos"

This is the train that goes into Manhattan. It runs on a bridge over the street before going under water and then underground into the city. I love the blue of the sky in this shot, a contrast to the grey of the city.

The bakery where I had some yummy, creamy cheesecake. I love that it says "country" bakery in the middle of Queens.

I am a country girl. I love living in a quiet, rural setting. I love beautiful scenery surrounding my home and having wild turkey wandering through my yard. I feel inspired by nature. However, that doesn't mean I can't appreciate a city setting. I can see why Andrea and her husband love living among the excitement and energy of the city. You are a little more aware in the city and there is always something fascinating to see or do.

Andrea's row house. I love that she has a stoop!

One thing I learned from Andrea on this trip was that there is a big difference between west coast Greeks and east coast Greeks. Her husband is a Long Island native and in the east coast, the Greeks like to decorate their homes and yards with Greek statues and minitures of Greek structures. Being a west coast California Greek, this was foreign to Andrea and she had to thin out her husband's extensive statue collection. She did allow the concession of a statue of Aphrodite in the yard as you can see in the above picture and in the photo of Andrea at the top.

I got to meet Andrea's husband, Steve, for the first time and I was pleased to see my friend had married such a great guy. I thought it was funny that I was the first real-life Mormon that Steve had ever met and he asked lots of questions. I never felt so fascinating in all my life! On the west coast, I'm just a boring ol' Mormon, but here I'm a unique creature. I love that. I always enjoy answering all those interesting and, sometimes funny, questions.

With all the talking and eating and laughing we did, it got pretty late into the day so Steve and Andrea invited me to spend the night. I happily accepted.

On the way home the next morning, I realized that I was practically driving through Sleepy Hollow. I'd only have to go out of my way by a few miles. So, spontaneously, I drove to Sleepy Hollow and stopped at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery and the Old Dutch Church. The Old Dutch Church was built in the 1600's by the Dutch settlers. If you watch Disney's Icabod Crane they depict the Old Dutch Church as Icabod travels through the cemetery in fear of running into the Headless Horseman on Halloween night.

For those of you who have been reading me for more than six months, you may remember my last trip to the cemetery in Sleepy Hollow. We were there last October and we ended up in the ER because my 3 year old tripped and gashed his eye on an 18th century tombstone, or, as we like to say it, he was attacked by the headless horseman. Read more about it here.

One of these was the offending tombstone

As I walked around the cemetery, an older man approached me and said, "do you want to see where the headless horseman is buried?" I could have taken that as a cheesy pick-up line, but he was kind and it was clear that he knew a lot about this place. He introduced himself and gave me his card. Turned out that he was president of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. They give tours of the cemetery for a fee normally, but he wasn't going to charge me. He was obviously a person anxious to share his vast knowledge of the place.

He showed me where Katrina Van Tassel was buried, the namesake of the lady of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow". Washington Irving used to visit the cemetery to get names and inspiration for his tales. Dave also showed me where they believe the headless Hessian is buried. This is where Irving's idea came from. There was a legend during Irving's day that this Hessian, whose head had been taken off by a cannon ball, left his grave at night to ride the streets of Sleepy Hollow and look for his head.

After an extensive tour, including a stop at Washinton Irving's grave, Dave told me that he was about to show me something that I wouldn't soon forget. He took me up to the mausoleum. I thought, no hoped, he would take me in one, but didn't think he actually would. But he did!

He unlocked the door to the mausoleum and lead me in. It was built in the 19th century and it did indeed look that old. It had a lovely honeycomb tiled floor and beautiful stonework. At first I admired the tiles on the floor and thought how lovely they'd look in my bathroom, but then I noticed the drain in the middle of the floor. Ewww. I'm sure it was mainly there to drain rain water, but all I could think about was body fluids. Yeah, gross, but interesting. There were about 40 vaults in the small mauselum and most were sealed shut. Dave quickly pointed up at the ceiling and brought my attention to the hibernating bats hanging above our heads. The ceiling wasn't tall, so the bats were only a couple feet above us. Very atmospheric. I was expecting eery organ music at any moment. It was creepy and I found it fascinating.

Dave proudly posed for a picture for me in the the burial chamber next to an open, but empty, vault. However, when I got back to my car and looked through my photos, that photo was missing. It was the only one not there! Odd. Still haven't figured out what happened there, but here is a picture I took of the outside of a Sleepy Hollow mausoleum back in October.

Dave ended our visit by giving me a couple of books about the cemetery. He said they generally charged for them, but that I was such a nice lady he'd give them to me for free. Very kind, generous fellow. He mentioned that his son gives lantern tours of the cemetery and now I'm already planning on coming back for that. I think I will also email Dave and tell him what happened to my mausoleum shot and ask if he wouldn't mind doing it again for me.

After my tour of the cemetery, I decided to head home. There was a lot more I could have gone to look at in Sleepy Hollow, but I missed my family. It was good to get back home. It's always nice to have time away from your family so you can appreciate them all the more.

Quick side note: Some of you may have noticed that I haven't been posting lately, nor have I been commenting on many blogs. Just thought I should let you know that I have been going through a lot lately that has been emotionally taxing and blogging has sort of fallen on my list of priorities. My husband has been a great support through all of this. I've also received some wonderful love and support from some close family and friends and I hope to come back to the blogging world more regularly very soon. I've certainly missed reading all of your blogs!

A St. Paddy's Day Stroll

2009-03-19T22:31:00.010-04:00

Most of us have felt it lately, "it", of course, being cabin fever. I've felt like a creature slowly coming out of my cocoon of blankets that have swaddled me in my cuddly, fetal position on the couch. I now feel like stretching out my arms and legs and running free in the warm air and lush greenry like a creature of spring.

It started on Sunday. It was a lovely 60 degree day. We walked into the church, sat down in a pew, and the bishop stood up to the podium, quickly, to announce that there was a gas leak in the building and everyone was to leave immediately. There was an audible "yes!" from the crowd. I thought I'd hear a gasp and people mumbling their worries to one another, but instead everyone was smiling and happy and I knew why because I felt it too. We all just wanted to go outside and be in the warm sun and take walks. The thought of the building exploding seemed to be secondary to our spring fever.

This week has been parent/teacher conference week so the kids have come home early everyday. This has allowed them to take full advantage of the weather. So, on St. Patrick's Day, I took the kids on our first family walk of the season, sans Russ who, sadly, had to work (such is life when you want to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly).

I've gushed on this blog before about our beautiful property, perhaps to your annoyance, but my artist's temperment craves beauty and scenery and this places feeds my soul. Plus, I'm naturally a gusher (I mean verbally, not literally). Not only do we live on property that I love, but our street is a nature lover's paradise as well. On our street, we have a stream and waterfall. We also have a bog and swamps and trails that wind through forest. Just the kind of thing that fuels children's imaginations, and my own.

It had been since last fall that David had gone biking. He felt the need to watch Brooke's feet on the peddles to remind himself. We were all a little rusty, though "it's just like riding a bike" is a cliche for a reason, and David quickly peddled down the driveway ...

At the bottom of the driveway, they made their way to the street...

The three older kids ride their bikes, while Adam and I walked. Or in his case, marched...

The biking kids got way ahead of us, but would circle their way back to me every once in awhile to check in...

Then we entered the trailhead to the stream and there were random slabs of white ice that are seeing their dying days...

Brooke and Adam looked for creatures in the stream. Brooke has always been fascinated by such things...

We then climbed to the waterfall and I stopped to listen to the blissful sound of bubbling water and took the opportunity to appreciate the deep green of the moss that grows on the rocks. The rocks were seemingly dressed for the Irish holiday...

With the recent snow melt, there were some muddy bits which proved irresistable to David. I made him rinse off in the water and, for some reason, he choose to drip dry in a fashion reminscent of a scarescrow...

On the way home, I took note of the buds close to bursting forth on almost every tree...

I love winter and had many wonderful moments this year. I fondly remember the times of cozy peacefulness watching slow-falling snow and listening to a crackling fire giving us warmth and atmosphere. But, also, I had times that were difficult to bear. I had times that tried my soul.

As I walked home with my happy, exploring kids by my side, I felt the renewing of spirit that spring brings. I felt hope work it's way through my mind and spirit. I am invigorated and my mind just wants to think and create. I suddenly have an almost anxious desire to write, to photograph beautiful things, and express my gratitude for God's gift of the season of renewal.

Tomorrow I'm off to visit an old friend in Queens (that's right, I'm headed to New York) while Russ stays home with the kids for the day. I can't wait to have hours-long conversations with her that will, no doubt, nourish my soul as well. It'll be a lovely way to marshall in spring.

Happy spring, everyone!

We've Been Immortalized

2009-03-13T13:14:00.004-04:00

Month o' Alyson is still in full force. I keep buying random things, saying it's for a birthday even though it was a few weeks ago. I think I will be revisiting this notion of a month of birthday every year. It will be a nice respite to have during the closing days of winter. Something to look forward to.

One thing I knew I wanted way before my birthday was a family portrait painted by Heather from Audrey Eclectic. Ever since I found her blog, I've been a big fan of her art. It's very haunting and has a lovely primative, folk art feeling. It's so beautiful.

Several weeks before my birthday, I sent her lots of photos of us, including this one:

(Photo taken around Christmas time in our backyard)

I told her that I wanted a very New England feel to the background and she did an amazing job. Once she sent me the email with photos of the finished product, I was in love and was excited to have it in my grubby little hands immediately.

I was not disappointed when the lovely piece arrived. The kids couldn't stop staring at it. It's a lovely heirloom piece that they'll have to fight over when we're gone. ;)

I didn't know where I wanted to place it. I tried it over one of our fireplaces, but amongst the brick the painting didn't pop. It became lost in the all the brick. Well, I didn't want to put it on some random wall that didn't get much viewing. But, finally, I found the perfect place! It sits in our dining room, which is appropriate since we gather there most often as a family. It is also a high traffic room since we walk through it to go to so many other rooms.

Heather paints on wood. She does a collage on the wood and paints over it. It gives it such depth and interest.

I just adore the lighthouse! This scene is totally New England.

Look at the detail. She adds copies of old photos within the collage. So cool!
I also asked her to add an old church and graveyard since we (especially I) enjoy looking at old gravestones. I love the history of them.

Here's the church and graveyard, very tastefully done

I think that this was definitely the highlight of my birthday month. Something I will always treasure. Let's just say if my house were on fire and I knew everyone was safe, this would be one of the first things I would grab.

Go visit Heather on her blog. She has such beautiful things to look at.

For now, I'm onto my next birthday adventure...

Month o' Alyson

2009-03-03T16:31:00.003-05:00

It was my birthday last weekend and I so basked in a day all about me. Our orginial plan was to head up to Salem, MA for the day, but then I realized my rare oppurtunity of having a birthday on a Saturday. I decided I'd rather sleep in and have a relaxing day than to have a tiring (yet fun) day running around. So, I told my husband let's postpone it for the following weekend. We would still go to Salem in honor of my birthday. Do you see what I did there, my friends? I was inadvertently tricky. By moving our trip, I EXTENDED my birthday for another week. So, it ain't over. Then I made plans to go see my friend who lives in Queens at the end of this month. She said we'd do a belated birthday celebration down there. So, now it's been EXTENDED for a month. Month o' Alyson, I'm calling it.

To celebrate this month o' Alyson with you all, I will be picking something up on one of my birthday travels and will be doing a GIVEAWAY, here, on my blog. So, be on the look-out for that later in the month.

Back to my birthday...what I like to do on my birthday is look back on old photos and ponder on my life. It's always interesting to look back and see where you've been and what you've done and think about where you're going. For the purposes of my blog, I've narrowed down a few phases of my life.

Here's my "I'm super shy and won't smile for anyone and hate attention" phase

I refused to smile for the photographer. I didn't want him to laugh at me. I totally remember this, even though I was only 3.

I look really happy with all the attention, don't I?

Then I hit the "it's the 80's now and I'm finally comfortable in my own skin" phase

Finally, a smile!

Yeah, I was feeling pretty confident. Confident enough to go through a "I think I'll be a model when I grow up" phase

But then disaster struck. I got a bad perm. So, here's the "I got a bad perm from my aunt and now I look like a poodle" phase

Can't tell which one is me? Just look for the brown haired poodle. I was so skinny that I think I look a little like a q-tip.

Then I just went through a lot of awkward middle years where I had no idea who I was or what I wanted. I just went around making the same choices as my friends. But then, finally, I hit another stage.

Here I am at the "I dream of living in England and marrying royalty" phase

I did move to England for awhile, which I loved, but I discovered I loved America even more.

Then I hit "holy crap I'm a mom" phase. Of course, I'll probably be in this phase until the day I die.

After a lot of years and after 4 kids, I hit "I'm in love with the east coast (New England in particular) and never want to leave" phase. I'm still in that phase, in fact. I'm also in the "I'm on a home renovation ramage" phase at the moment too.

Who knows what the next phase will be. I have hopes it will be my "full time writer" phase or "buying and fixing up a historical home" phase. Hopefully, it won't be "mid-life crisis" phase or "living in the poor house" phase, but who knows in this economy!

So, come back as I share my adventures from month o' Alyson and for the giveaway, of course!

You'll Thank Me Later

2009-02-25T11:58:00.003-05:00

So, I've had a lot of health problems lately. It's been a year full of strange maladies and, lately, extreme exhaustion; and for the last 8 or 9 months I've had a continuous sinus headache. Sometimes it's worse than others. This fall it was unbearable. Reasonably, I thought it would be over once the leaves had fallen. And, seriously, with beauty like this...

or this...

or this...

a headache was a small price to pay. Who cares if ragweed was having its way with me, at least I am one of the fortunate ones who lives in New England in fall.

But once the leaves were dead and had been painstakingly raked and the snow had fallen, my sinus headache remained. I stayed on sudafed, which I hate. It makes my heart race, it makes me feel a little jittery, and another effect of the stimulant was that it affected my moods. Even with the sudafed, I still was on excedrin on a daily basis. And both those medicines combined did not totally get rid of my headaches. Plus, I had being on medications.

In my quest to "fix" myself, one of my stops was to the allergist a couple of weeks ago. This guy was a piece of work. He talked fast and non-stop, like someone hopped up on meth, but he assured me that his fast talk was all due to being sent to prep school at 13 and not the starbucks sitting on his desk. Then he cracked some joke about having been a jewish preppy. He was funny, a little crazy, and took some concentration to follow, but he is a genius.

First he prescribed me some antihistamine that I had never heard of. I'm weary of antihistamines as I always have awful side effects. He gave it to me in a liquid form and told me to take very small doses and, so far, no side effect to be seen, though there has been the side benefit that it sent my annoying eczema packing.

But the smart antihistamine choice was not the part that convinced me to be his life-long devotee. No, it was when he mentioned two little, unknown words to me "neti pot". Then he started his speed talk, telling me that he'd used his for 10 years and it changed his life. He told me it's from India and has been used for thousands of years. Still, I had no idea what he was talking about. So, he pulled out an 8 x 10 photograph that was slightly disturbing. There was a girl with a teapot-looking device stuck up her nose. She was leaning over a sink and her head was tilted. Apparently, she was pouring some kind of water into her nostril and it was coming out the other side. It gave me flashbacks of when I was a kid and one of my brother's friends stuck a spaghetti noodle up his nose and pulled it out his mouth. That's when I learned the fun fact that everything is all connected up there. What really made me laugh about the photo, though, is she was surrounded by people watching her, as if she were a freak in a circus sideshow.

My doctor went on to tell me how the neti pot is filled with salt water to mimic the body's own fluids and you run this salt water through both nostrils. It cleans out all the mucus and allergns. It's like giving your nose a shower. He said it would lessen the sinus pressure, therefore lessen the headaches.

I was excited, if not a tiny bit horrified, by this neti pot. I love holistic when it works. Modern medicine is a blessing, but if we can go natural in certain circumstances, I'm all for it. I prefer it, in fact.

So, I got my cute little blue neti pot that looks like this:

And brought it home. I filled it, stuck it up my nose, and got a nasty surprise. Remember how I mentioned the spaghetti and everything being connected? Well, once I stuck it up my nose and let the water flow, it started coming out my mouth. Totally grossed me out. Then I realized I shouldn't tilt my head so far back. Once I realized this, it started coming out my nose like it's supposed it and I looked a little like this:

Looks gross and I've heard some people reluctant to use it because of their fear that they'll feel like they're drowning. Not true. You are constantly breathing through your mouth the entire time. The feeling of the water sort of reminds me of when you jump into a swimming pool without your nose plugged. It's not unpleasant.

I use it every morning, before stepping into the shower, and I'm so utterly happy to report that it works. I've gone two weeks without having to take my headache meds. Totally headache free! That's miraculous. And better still, no side effects. So glad I didn't get stuck with allergist that just tried to dope me up on all kinds of meds.

So, go out and get yourself a neti pot. Trust me, you'll thank me later.

Coraline and My Strange Nature

2009-02-19T13:55:00.003-05:00

Despite the weakness and sickness that permeated my family, I made sure that we saw Coraline opening weekend. I'm not the kind to stand in line for just any kids movie that comes to theaters. I'm more than happy not to be forced to sit still in a dark theater and made to hear juvenile fart jokes and silly plotlines for two hours (i.e., Alvin and the Chipmunks - so glad we bypassed that one when it was in theaters and that I could walk out of my family room when I could not bear it anymore). Coraline, however, is different. I was attracted to the darkness of it. Though I don't think kids need to be exposed to grim tales ad nauseum, I do look fondly at the more gritty fairy tales of old. We've certainly cleaned them up in the last 150 years to be more child-friendly. To be honest, though, they've been prettied up to be more adult-friendly as well. Our society is in full-fledged denial of death. We're fortunate enough to live in a day when death isn't a constant visitor in our lives, so it is much easier for us to be in denial. Though I don't believe preoccupation with death is in any way healthy, pretending it doesn't exist or that our children should never learn of sadness isn't good either. To me, coming to terms with the fact that this life is finite is a motivator to live a better life. The need to be kinder, more loving, less materialistic, and to go after my dreams is more pressing because I know there is an end and I believe there is a reward for doing good at the end. Not that I don't fear it, because I do have fear, but I'd rather explore that fear and my beliefs rather than pretend it's not there.

Sorry, I got off on my "denial of death" tangent. Just something I think about from time to time and I love to explore our modern-day attitudes of making death neat and tidy and not coming to terms with it. One of these days I will write a post on it.

But I digress...

Coraline is not about death (though there are ghost children), but it is dark. And I like dark. Not dark-dark. I have never been attracted to the music of Marilyn Manson, for example. And you won't find me renting the newest in a long line of gratuitously violent and inane Saw movies. I don't like slasher films. I despise them. They make me sick to my stomach and, I believe, no good comes from them. I like the kind of dark that makes us think, that makes us a bit uncomfortable. I like a good ghost story and I love exploring themes of loss and sorrow and redemption.

Coraline is the same vein of the old, dark fairy tales. That kind of dark. It's beautiful and, at times, a bit uncomfortable. Coraline experiences absolute fear and finds the strength to stand up to it anyway. I find it interesting, too, that even though there isn't the classic wicked stepmother, there is a character called the Other Mother in an alternate reality who happens to be the villian. Coincidence?

The film is stunning. I found myself awed and amazed by the artistry of these animators. It's eerily beautiful. The spooky atmosphere was done to perfection.

The other part of the film that drew me in was the setting. The cute pink house is set in a remote, magical place surrounded by mountains and trees. This is also reminiscent of old fairy tales. The setting touched my heart because one of the reasons we bought our house was that it reminded me of fairy tales and I could imagine my children pretending to be fairies or adventurers on our 2 acres. Our house is up against a mountain (well, a southern New England version of a mountain, anyway) and is surrounded by trees. And though we aren't as remote as Coraline's home, our house is set up on a hill, away from the street and we feel secluded and in a world of our own.

photo taken of my house a couple of weeks ago at street level

Our place feels magical to me. I watch my kids climb the mountain in our backyard and I watch them have pretend sword fights on our forested land and I watch them use their imaginations and it's beautiful.

Back to Coraline - so, what do we expect of our fairy tales? A moral, of course! Or several morals, depending on how you see the world and your given set of circumstances. There are several you can take from Coraline too. My 11 year old felt the moral was to be happy with what you have and not always look for something better. A "grass is always greener" theme, if you will. Good message. Given my life experiences, however, the message I took from it was a bit different. The warning in this story, to me, was not to be fooled by appearances. There often is an ugly underbelly to things. Don't be taken in by an image and don't create an image for your life either. Be truthful. Be honest and who you are.

Also, another message from this story, important to us parents, is don't take your kids for granted. Don't let your life get in the way of loving your kids. Give freely of your time to them. I got that message loud and clear.

So, I'm off, now, to watch my kids use their beautiful imaginations in our magical yard...

A Bit Sick and A Tad Passive Aggressive

2009-02-06T16:53:00.004-05:00

I'm sick. Yeah, again. It happens when you have 4 kids. We all know that kids are like walking petrie dishes of disease and germs. They may look cute and pure and you may want to kiss all over their sweet little faces or hold their chubby little hands, but I recommend you take some soap and water to them first. Really, you know where their hands have been, don't you? You realize that kids wash their hands after going to the bathroom about as often as...well, not very often. Sorry, my head is feeling too murky and thick to come up with a good comparsion right now. My head feels like it's sitting in an depressurized airplane at 20,000 feet. Or something like that.

I've also had at least one kid home sick from school most days this week. So, my once happy home, my safe haven, has become my jail cell. I've been like a caged animal. All this time to think and nowhere to go. That can be dangerous.

I found myself thinking about passive aggression. Don't ask the reason; it's long and windy. I was thinking that I hate it when people are passive aggressive, but then we all are with certain people, right? Like with family. What else is there? You can't be aggressive aggressive. You have to throw in the passive, so you don't look like a raging meth head. Well, at least in my family or my husband's family. And just about any other highly religious, peace-at-all-costs family.

All this passive aggression reminded me of a video I saw on Ann Leary's blog a couple of months ago. Nothing funnier than a passive aggressive pitbull.

Love ya!

When Good Men Do Nothing

2009-02-02T18:04:00.002-05:00

Evil prevails when good men do nothing.

This quote has run through my brain on continuous loop for the past few days. I know this message is meant for me. I know I am to take action.

Yet action often leads to undesired consequences. Sometimes people will be unhappy with you, but this is often why good men do nothing. They fear anger and they fear accusations. But this is to deny our integrity. This is to become a coward.

Ultimately my actions will lead to good. It will uncover the truth and possibly protect others. I will give myself a voice. Finally.

Even so, there may be times that I will be forced to defend myself and I will be made to face up to my own doubts. This scares me.

But it must start with me and as I open the mailbox to drop the letter in, I make the first and most important step. I am taking a leap of faith and I hope God is with me.

"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself." - Robert Frost

Disconnected and It Feels So Good

2009-01-29T08:51:00.006-05:00

Some of you may have noticed that I've been MIA. Some of you may have worried. Some of you were even sweet enough to leave comments and emails and write on my facebook wall in concern. Some of you may have been confused. Some of you may have been annoyed that I haven't been commenting. And some of you probably couldn't have cared less.

But here I am! No major illness kept me away nor deep despair and depression. Not even your run-of-the-mill busyness was the cause. I just didn't get on the internet one day. Then I didn't get on the next. And then the next. And it felt so good not to be connected that I kept going for a whole week. I can be a little obsessive about checking things on the internet and it was freeing to not be checking things, you know? I vow not to be such a checky person ever again.

So, what have I been doing to keep busy?

I finally got back to reading. During the second half of last year I stopped reading. I don't know why since it's one of my favorite pastimes. It was strange to have stopped and it felt wrong, but now I'm back in the swing of things, literaryly speaking.

I finished An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England (from here on out, it shall be known as AAGWHNE). Immediately upon completing the book, I wasn't sure I liked it. The ending was a bit sad and hopeless. It made me recall how I felt after watching the HBO miniseries John Adams. It started out with so much hope and promise, but when one lives long enough, they become well aquainted with tragedy. Life was good for them when John was being a moral-high-ground kind of a lawyer and a patriot and Abigail was teaching the children and writing beautiful and intelligent letters to her husband. Then the kids grew up and sometimes kids turn out not to be such great adults or sometimes they get struck with a fatal disease, sometimes beloved spouses die, and eventually our bodies break down as we get old. It reminded me that old age is filled with heartbreaking loss after heartbreaking loss, which made me sad (though I firmly believe that all that loss is a final test before our great reward). Still, I loved the John Adams miniseries and I came to love AAGWHNE. I realized that the main character became the sacrifical lamb for the family and I can relate to that, though I would never be as willing a participant in that sacrifice as he was. The writing was also superb. There were so many times that I stopped reading and had to write down a phrase from the book. The author has a way with words, which I suppose is good since he is a writer and all.

Now I'm reading The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell, which Donna gave to me for Christmas (thanks for listening and remembering when I mentioned this book, Donna! You're the best!).

So, where do I begin? Well, it's the BEST BOOK ever! That may be an overexaggeration and since I'm only on page 50, I admit I do not have a complete overview. However, so far it is smart, funny, informative, and you feel like you are having a conversation with your best friend; that is, if your best friend likes develing into early American Puritan history. Since my ideal best friend would, it feels like a best friend chat to me. This is not a book about the Puritans who landed at Plymouth. Apparently, there were two different kinds of Puritans and the ones who landed at Plymouth were Seperatists. This non-fiction book is about the ones who founded the Massachusetts Bay Colony in Boston and they were not Seperatists. They were on speaking terms with the king and wanted to keep it that way.

At one point, Vowell writes about John Cotton's farewall speech to these Puritans as they were leaving England. He refers to America as God's plantation. Here's an excerpt: This is God's plantation, remember? Cotton says, "If God be the gardener, who shall pluck up what he sets down?" Hear that, Indians? No weeding of the white people allowed. Unless they're Catholic. Or one of those Satan-worshipping Virginians.

Vowell also explains why Puritans came to be. She starts with Henry VIII and his break from the Catholic church because of his infactuation with a woman who is not his wife. She writes: So an English subject of Henry VIII who already had a soft spot for the innovations of Luther rejoiced at the king's break with Rome (while trying not to picture Henry and Anne Boleyn doing it in every room of the castle).

Those exerpts had the history nerd in me cracking up, laughing out loud. Ok, so besides reading, what else?

Well, I've been catching up on some tv. I'm going to be honest here. I'm not above tv. I enjoy it, when I get a chance, and it needed to be caught up on. So many lonely Cold Cases, 30 Rocks, Gilmore Girls, 48 Hour Mysteries, and Seinfelds just waiting for me, patiently, on the DVR. Poor dears felt so abandoned. Jerry (or Jerome, if you happen to be Elaine) looked forlorn and Lorelai gave me the cold shoulder when I finally got back to them, but all is good now.

Also, during my abandonment of the internet, I took Adam to Yankee Candle Village up in Deerfield, Massachusetts. It's one of our favorite places and only 45 minutes away.

Of course we couldn't leave the village without first saying hi to Jeeves in the Halloween village. He gets so ugly when we forget.

Oh, and I was also busy winning contests.

I won that copy of What Would Emma Do? signed by Eileen Cook, the author. I won it from Barrie Summy's blog. Pretty cool, right? I'm going to admit, the picture above is a staged shot. Yes, it's true, I do not make it a habit of wearing my husband's glasses when I read books, especially not at the tip of my nose like Thomas Dolby (gosh, I hope some of you get that reference).

Let's see...what else? Oh, I have been putting a lot of thought into a writing project that I'm going to tackle this year. I've been planning on writing this book for decades. Yes, I know I'm only 32, but, yes, it has been decades since this little seed embedded itself into my brain. This project is very personal and could have major ramifications in my life, so it's been a lot to think about. I still need to come up with concepts and angles, but it's getting there.

I was also busy going on a spontaneous trip to Boston with my family. We ate yummy food, watched a water-fireworks show, and went to the New England Aquarium.

Here a mechanical Green Monster (the Red Sox mascot) repeadly eats a Yankee's player.

Boston harbor and aquarium

That large structure that looks like two wishbones with cables attached is the Bunker Hill, or Zakim, Bridge.

On a grey winter day, these bright windows by the aquarium were a welcome sight. Aren't they beautiful?

So, I think that's about it. Yep, that's what I did with my time off. Oh, I guess I also took care of the kids a little and cleaned the house a bit. But really, the house should be a lot cleaner after a week of no internet. I guess I can check the internet off my reasons for procrastinating housework now.

Coolness

2009-01-19T19:22:00.005-05:00

Am I the only one that used that word in high school all the time? I totally overkilled "coolness". It was a word I used for everything and an answer to most questions. Wanna go to Weinerschnitzel? Coolness. Hey, I got my driver's license! Coolness. I think I'm going to drop out of school. Coolness. It was my way of saying everything was good. It was a state of being. (oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, I still say coolness.)

For the purposes of this post, however, coolness is not used to describe a state of being, but rather a way to tell you that I have some cool things to share with you.

So, here's some coolness. I'm going to buy this for myself:

Are you now picturing me in a onesie? Ok, please don't because it's not pretty, and also unnecessary since you can buy this is an adult size tee. Which is what I'll be doing.

I found this cute, trendy website called The Trendy Tadpole. At first, I was disappointed that I didn't have any babies to put into the stylish wear. Then I realized that even though this site is geared toward little ones, you can buy their stuff for big kids and adults. Coolness. I'll be getting this (but in t-shirt form) for my 3 year old:

And since I'm not into boys wearing pink, I'll make his blue. Thought this was a cute one too:

Probably will get one for my daughter that says this:

I'm tempted to get this as well, but it hits a little too close to home:

I figured I didn't need to give them any ideas, just yet, but it is pretty funny. (Maybe I should have had that onesie when I was a wee one to give everyone a head's up.) The other thing about The Trendy Tadpole is the prices are really good, so go click www.thetrendytadpole.com and buy. Such a cute site.

Also, had to show you my favorite picture of the holiday season.

My daughter was celebrating the new year in style. She bought those glasses in NYC and is keeping them as a collector's item since we won't be having another year that has two zeros in them for a long, long time. So these will be the last glasses made out of a year for oh, about a thousand years or so.

Ok, this next thing is total coolness. I got this from my favorite yogi gal-pal Braja. You go to www.photofunia.com, stick in a photo of yourself or a loved one and have fun. Here's some cool ones I did with pictures of me:

Loved seeing myself in an antique book, since I collect them.

Finally get to see myself in Times Square!

Apparently, I'm driving this guy to drink.

And here's some coolness from one hot chick. Stesha at Hot Chocolate Caramel Mocha gave me this award:

I'm giving it to:
1. A New England Life because she take breathtaking photos of picturesque New England and you know I'm loving that! Plus, she's been super helpful when I've asked questions about blog layouts. Thanks, Sharon!
2. Little Princess Chronicles because she takes such sweet pictures of her kids and is working to learn the art of photography like I am. Oh, and she too is an New Englander (I'm starting to see a trend here).
3. Where I Talk About Art because I love learning how she creates. This is the same gal that does the Just A Plane Ride Away blog. I've been reading her for quite some time and she was very helpful when I was picking out my first digital SLR last summer.
4.BlokThoughts because she is a fellow photographer and she takes beautiful portraits and in some twisted, weird way she's become my adopted cyber-cousin. Don't ask, long story. Plus, she is fun and funny and a fellow Canon girl.
5. Heather because she is a childhood friend who I just adored and then we lost touch and then there was facebook. Praise be to facebook! Now she's started a blog and I love how she writes and she's funny.
6. Lost And Found In India because she writes beautifully (a book forthcoming) and she's a yogi. She's also always calling me Monica, as in from Friends. Gotta love when someone nicknames you after a beautiful celebrity.
7. Scenes From the Wild because she is my photography hero. She also induces camera envy in me. I drool over her super expensive, high end Canon. Besides photography, she seems like such a down-to-earth chick and I dig that.
8. The Domestic Fringe because I love how she writes and who wouldn't want to hear about the funny adventures of a pastor's wife living on Long Island?
9. Art-n-Sewl because she is a crafty artist. I even have her beautiful art hanging on my wall. You can see a picture of it on my sidebar, by the way. Love it! She is also a kindred spirit in many ways.
10. Dunhaven Place because Heidi is an actual cousin. Well, distant, distant cousin. We're both descended from John Alden of the Mayflower anyway. That's not the only reason, however. She is a published author (I know, I know, Heidi. I will read your book soon) and I love reading her posts. She's funny, but also touching.

Ok, so do what you want with your awards, my friends. Give them away or just keep it all for yourself. I'm not going to post any rules because, well, I just don't believe in rules. Free agency, people!

(I've have at least 2 other awards I'm giving away to several people, but didn't want to do it all in one post. Have to space them out for sanity's sake. I'll be giving one award away for the next few posts.)

"I'm done with Connecticut. I want to move to New York City," to quote a certain 6 year old.

2009-01-15T15:34:00.005-05:00

The first glimpse of the city you get from the Metro-North train is Harlem and from Harlem into Grand Central, my 6 year old begged and pleaded for us to sell our home and land in Connecticut and move to New York City. All my talk of giving up our 2 acres of land to play on and all my talk of living in a tiny apartment didn't deter her desire. I told her that if she gets into NYU or Columbia, she has my blessing. Until then, she stuck with us and she's stuck with country life.

Last I posted, we were on our way to Times Square and to the biggest toy store on earth. Times Square is glitzy and flashy and begs for your attention, and it almost always gets it. Even Brooke, who got her first cell phone for Christmas, and was obsessively texting, had to pull her eyes from her new device and look at the flashing lights and showy shrines to commerce. Of course I caught this moment on film (well, not film, but memory card) and I was glad I did because I love the look on her face.

We even got to see some prep for the New Year's eve celebration.

You can see all the cables and scaffolding for the ball to drop and other temporary structures.

Then we entered the hallowed halls of the biggest toy store on earth - Toys R Us of Times Square. It's so big, people, that they have a full-sized ferris wheel inside. We were going to go on it, in fact, until we discovered that the line was 2 hours long. Only parents who are of the masochistic variety were willing to do that. Since we don't fall under that catogory (most of the time), we hurried along.

The kids got over it when they saw this guy:

Yeah, there's nothing like a huge, animatronic dinosaur to divert a kid's attention. Then we got to see these famous structures made of Lego's:

So, that saved us the trouble of having to take the take the time and trouble and actually going to see the real Statue of Liberty. Thanks, Lego's! ;)

After that, we ran into every little girl's dream - a lifesize Barbie house:

From the look on his face, it is apparently a dream come true for my husband too. See that eager smile? (oh man, he's going to kill me) By the way, he's the tall guy with the beige sweater and goatee.

We managed to escape the store with minimal damage (to our credit cards). Actually, no damage to the credit cards. The kids had Christmas money, which saved us from the pain and agony of interest rates.

Get ready for one of my favorite shots:

We stopped at one of those little touristy shops and he had to have that Statue of Liberty crown. Once he had it on, he held out his arm like he was holding a torch.

He walked around like the king of Manhattan from then on. He got plenty of waves from passing firefighters and cabbies.

That tall building in the distance is the Chryslar building.

After roaming the streets and stores for hours, we were pooped. Here's proof:

But some of us managed to have enough energy, on the train, to play with our loot from Toys R Us:

He loves these little creatures. I have no idea what they are.

As we entered the underground tunnels that run under Grand Central, we once again heard the sad sighs of a 6 year old who has fallen in love with the city and doesn't want to go home.

Once we got into Stamford, I saw a magificent sunset:

View of the Stamford tracks and city from the parking garage.

I tried to show Caroline the lovely pinks, purples, and blues of the sunset that you don't get to see in the city. To a six year old, however, it simply doesn't compare to flashing lights, honking horns, and the energy of New York.

(Was going to collect my awards and give them away in this post, but have been dealing with a cold today and just don't have the energy. So, come back for that on Monday).

New York City? 65 Degrees? In December?! Oh yeah, I'm so there.

2009-01-12T12:00:00.003-05:00

You'd have to be irretrievably stupid to pass up the chance to see Christmas lights in the city when it's going to be in the 60's, right? Yeah, that's what we thought too. And that's why we ditched church. God forgives when there is a rare opportunity such as this, right? Right? I mean, this is akin to seeing Halley's comet or a storm that rains frogs. It was only going to be one glorious day of unseasonal warmth. It was like a big ol' invitation from the heavens to go into the city and explore.

So, we took the fate of our everlasting souls into our hands and headed to the train station. This time we went to the Stamford station. Any true-blue viewer of The Office would recognize the name of this town. Don't tell me you've forgotten the Stamford branch? Remember how all the members of the Stamford brach were taken down, one by one, like the kids from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when they joined Scranton? At least that's the analogy Andy used.

David waits for the train.

Caroline & Mommy on the train.

In Grand Central Station:

Me & the kids. This is what happens when you put kids into a shot where you use a slower shutter speed. They become creatures of the blur. Seriously, how did they take pictures of kids 150 years ago when cameras were really, really slow?

See that sassy jean jacket I'm wearing above? Didn't stay on long. It was so warm in the city that I quickly tied it around my waist and it stayed there until we got back home.

My husband is very weird about taking the kids into the city. He gets anxious because he's the overprotective type. So, we hadn't taken the kids back into the city since our last try two years ago. Since we only live 90 miles from NYC, and the kids are getting older, I pretty much demanded that we give it another shot.

A funny thing happens when you're a kid and haven't been into the city for a very long time. You become gob-smacked at the bigness and tallness of all that surrounds you. As you can see from this shot:

Took this just as we came out of Grand Central. Caroline was the only one to look toward the camera. The others couldn't help themselves. Love this shot!

Of course we headed to America's Christmas tree first. Rockefeller! Saks Fifth Avenue was on the way over. The crowds were still enjoying the Christmas windows:

My husband & my curly-headed, little one walking toward the Rockefeller Christmas tree.

The angels of Rockefeller Center.

The tree is spectacular. Every once in awhile white lights start flashing all over the tree and the star is made of Swarovski crystals. Quite brilliant.

We ate lunch at 30 Rock and watched the ice-skaters and then walked to Times Square. We walked by Radio City Music Hall on the way:

See that Elmo at the bottom of the photo? Does anyone know why on earth there are random, wandering Elmos walking around NYC at Christmas time, asking for tips to have their picture taken with you? Strangest thing. Didn't know Christmas + NYC = Elmo.

So, we went to Times Square and to the largest toy store in the world. But that's a story for another day...

For now, I have some linky love and thanks for give away to the blogosphere. First of all, thanks to Nevadanista! She's the one who nominated me for spotlight blog at mormon mommy blogs. Go visit her because she's fun and she takes great photos of wild horses that roam Reno. Who knew? I spent years visiting my uncle Brian Crane (fabulous creator of the comic strip Pickles) and his family in Reno as a kid and I had no idea there were free-roaming stallions - there's got to be a joke in there somewhere - galloping about the outskirts of the biggest little city on earth.

Then I must thank Stesha at Hot Chocolate Caramel Mocha because she actually wrote a post asking people to vote for me to win the spotlight blog of the month. How sweet is that?! She's not even mormon, so she didn't have to care about some mormon mommy blog contest, but she did, and I love her for it. You all should just go read her because she always makes me laugh, the out-loud variety of laughs too. And that's the rarest kind. She's also a sassy Southern belle getting ready to have twins! Plus, she gave me a super nice award, which I'll write about in my next post.

Also, a big thanks to the grandpa at The Word Mechanic for making my last post a spotlight post on his blog. He's got a way with the english language and knows how to write a wicked good poem, not to mention how to spin a yarn. He's become the grandpa to many of us bloggers and we all love reading his posts. So, go visit him now!

I have more thanks to go around, but this post is quickly threatening to become a novel. So, that will have to wait until next time. Please return later this week for the harrowing adventures of two parents, 4 kids, and the biggest toy store on earth at Christmas time! Can you say intense?

Oh, and not to spoil the end of the story, but no bolts of lightening were seen anywhere in our general vicinity while roaming the streets of Manhattan. So, I think we're all good with the big guy upstairs.