With the equinox less than two weeks away, spring is in the air, quite literally. It smells of change, a watery freshness that has beckoned the migrating birds, the slumbering bears, the silent buds. The ground was speckled with an ethereal frosting of something this morning—teensy hail? powdery snow?—that's already dissipating as I write this. The first sign of the new season, fragile yet hardy snowdrops, have popped up beneath the river birch. I leave for Hawaii on Sunday. With a couple of posts in the hopper, the blog won't be completely silent this week, but travelogues won't post until my return. This is a vacation, and vacation I will.
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I started working when I was 16 as a hostess at Gilda's, a seafood restaurant on the wharf in Santa Cruz. It was one of a few restaurants owned by a large family of Neapolitan immigrants—the Stagnaros—who were born fishermen and restaurateurs. I met my first real boyfriend there, a line cook who surfed and drove a turquoise '59 Chevy. He made a mean Denver omelette and taught me to roll a joint. At Gilda's (pronounced with a soft "G") we served excellent Boston clam chowder and a divine crab Louie, the West Coast salad made with crisp lettuce, hard-boiled eggs and Thousand Island dressing. So when I saw a recipe in the Times last month for a slightly updated version (courtesy of David Tanis of Chez Panisse), I began craving it in the way you do the familiar tastes of home. I made it with fresh East Coast lump crab meat, not the classic Dungeness, and dressed it with a creamy boiled dressing instead of the pink stuff, and it still satisfied immensely.
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Hello, my name is Laura and I'm an addict. Hello, Laura. It's been 30 seconds since I last Googled. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to get off the stuff, but I just keep going back. It gives me everything I need and I can't live without it. I don't even remember a time before it—what was that like?! How did we know anything? Go anywhere? Where did our answers come from? I'm safe with Google. It's the past and the future. It's knowledge. It's the modern oracle. It's everything to me. And it's good news for you, too. Just take a look at what I've found for you this week.
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Yes, yes, the hair is mostly grey now. People congratulate me on having a "good" color of grey. But what if it weren't "good"? What if I had a weird, ashy, muddy color? Would I be forced to keep coloring it in order to look "good"? There is often some level of discomfort when I get into these conversations, because inevitably people (read: women) start to question their own commitment to artificial color. I do not judge. I religiously colored my hair for 15 years and, if the inconvenience of spending precious city time in the salon chair were not a factor, I might still be doing it. But the move upstate and all it has engendered do seem to have connected me to a more authentic expression of myself I find gratifying. That said, this post is about a different sort of grey altogether. Read on to find out more, and to check out my latest list of inspiring links.
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What a week. I'm not one of those people who's constantly posting on Facebook about how much they hate Monday or how excited they are that it's Friday. I don't live for the weekend. But I kind of want this Friday the 13th to be over so I can leave the week behind. Let's just say the highlight was emphatically not spilling tea on my laptop and melting down into what can officially be called an adult tantrum. In the end, thanks to the quick thinking and soothing ministrations of my husband, it all turned out OK. What did I learn? That my laptop IS MY LIFE. (Also, not to have teetering cups of liquid near it...but I've "learned" that before.)What, then, was the week's highlight? I'd have to say it was another great day in the city. Truly, New York City at its best. I've been finding it rather energizing these days. From Howard, above, who sells his collection of foraged driftwood from a tarp near Union Square; to the lovely people at Marni in SoHo, who helped me find the perfect shearling jacket on sale; to the über-talented Lior Lev Sercarz, mixing up radical spice blends in his gallery/atelier on the West Side, the whole place seems to be pulsing with good creative energy.
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Fast away the old year passes. The excitement with which we welcome the new is resoundingly optimistic. What is it about stepping into the future that fills us with such hope? Meanwhile, the older I get the quicker the time goes. It's like it has a new momentum, a special determination to slip away from me. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. I will not be daunted. I will grab each moment and ride it, bucking and swaying, into the golden sunset. I can scarcely believe that it's been two years since I launched this blog, a true labor of love. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support. As I humbly say, without you, I'm nothing. For 2012, I am resolving to remain curious. To keep learning and evolving. To welcome new people, places and things. To eat, drink and be merry. To stay fit. To cultivate strength, resilience and endurance. To cherish what I have. To be patient and kind (with myself and others). And, to echo one of Woody Guthrie's 1942 resolutions, to "dream good."I hope this weekend brings you further opportunity to chill, space out, hang and unwind. Here are some links to help you while away a few idle hours. I wish you a celebratory New Year's Eve and a very delicious 2012.
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You've earned it. The right to put your feet up. To zone out. To nap. To sit in front of the fire reading that book that's been tempting you for months. To try a new recipe, listen to music, have a long, meandering chat with a loved one. To trawl the interwebs for loot. To watch silly YouTube videos, favorite movies and fabulous TV shows. To stuff your face. To get drunk or high, or both. To go for a run, a ride, a hike. To pray, to celebrate, to review the past year and meditate on the future. To be grateful for what and whom you have. Remember, even though the kids are melting down and your mother-in-law is irritating and your sister is crying and your husband is gone: This is your time. Carve out some space for yourself and do exactly as you please.Here are some links I've been compiling for you. May they bring you pleasure, inspiration, knowledge and fun, as you sip some delicious wine (or sparkling cider) and dream of what's to come.
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