Category: Uncategorized

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Hosts once again…

The cast of characters at our dinner party; Marty, David, Arthur, Buzz, Tabetha, Martin, Alexandra, and yours, wearing my cooking glasses and hair done in my food service and dancing teacher bun.

Last night we hosted our first official dinner party since covid. We had our almost full-time neighbors Arthur and David, Buzz and Tabetha, new neighbors and owners of The Arlington Inn we met this past summer when they purchased the Inn. Finally, our buddy across the street, Chef Martin, and his friend Alexandra. 

Usually, when I do extensive cooking as I did, I take food photos, but I didn’t this time. I only took an “usie,” the plural of a selfie. 

We decided at dinner, while everyone loved the meal, it wasn’t about the food; it was about friends around the table telling stories and making each other laugh. 

However, It was also about the crazy good homemade cannoli and Nutella gelatos I made to go with the other Italian dishes. It was my first time making gelato with our gelato machine, which had been in storage for ten years.

I made a bunch of favorite recipes I can do with my eyes closed. A big pot of soft and fluffy meatballs and sausage, homemade pasta, stuffed clams, caesar salad, and eggplant stackers. I’ve made each dish at least 100 times and can count on them. One of the celebrity chefs says never to use your friends as culinary guinea pigs.

The other great thing about this menu was that it was not only simple, but I could make all the dishes ahead and bake or reheat them before we ate.

It’s the most important thing to remember when planning a dinner party, don’t make fussy things like soufflé or dishes with multiple preparations and steps unless these dishes are comfortable for you or in your wheelhouse of recipes.

I wish I had taken a photo of the bar I set up. It was brilliant, if I do say myself. I know what my friends drink for the most part, so I set up the bar according to their preferences.

On one side of the bar, I placed an “Old Fashioned” cocktail ingredient tray with the proper glassware. I made an orange simple syrup along with orange wedges, bitters, and maraschino cherries, all in size-appropriate bowls. I also had other dark liquors and red wine with glasses on that side.

On the other side, I had a “Straight-up Martini” tray again with proper glasses, vermouth, and bleu cheese-stuffed olives on sticks. White wine, rum, tequila, vodka, and gin with small cans of tonic water, seltzer, and cola. A bowl of lime and lemon rounds was included to make mixed drinks. Martin was the bartender, which he could do as well as being a fantastic chef.

Even though we have a cozy home, ok, call it small, we all fit in the dining room without a problem. Everyone stood talking in the living room and bar area during cocktail hour. I enjoyed time with my guests, then headed into the kitchen to bake and reheat the food.

The night went off without a hitch. The two gelatos were the stars of the show! So was that simple orange syrup I made. While I had never made any of these items before, I was confident they would be good; actually, they were fucking awesome!

Our home was filled with friends, talking, and laughter. Our neighborhood had a similar thing but with a group of neighbors who either moved away, died, or were too old or sick to participate. We were the group’s youngsters in our 40s, while almost everyone else was in their 60s. We were so sad when our friends faded fast, and most of all, we missed our “Tavern Night” group, as we called it.

Things have come full circle. We are empty nesters and a few years older this time. Our home has been updated since covid, painting every room, purchasing new furniture, both new and used, and giving the once dark and worn living space a more light and modern feel.

Our hosting is over, for now, and it’s up to the next couple, sometime in March. I can’t wait! It’s so wonderful having our social lives back again right here in Arlington!

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A spontaneous moment…

Me and Kathleen.

My friend and belly dance student Maria, who also has a blog, sometimes wants to write about the same things I do about what happens on Wednesday nights at dance class. She was going to take a photo of the mysterious shoe, then saw I already wrote about it.

Last Wednesday, we had such an incredible, spontaneous moment just before our zilling drill practice that left everyone like, “wow, where did that come from?” Maria beat me to writing about that moment, so rather than rewrite the event; she tells the story brilliantly. 

You must read her post before you continue reading mine. The link to her blog post, “He had it coming.”

While discussing positive self-image, I thought about how much “hate talking” I do to myself about not having a size six body anymore. It’s still a hurdle to overcome and a big one for me, but I accept it more each day.

When Maria spoke up and told everyone about her father calling her mother every day and asking if she did her sit-ups, I stopped looking for a zilling song and said with lots of drama, “some guys just can’t hold their arsenic!”

That’s when Kathleen and I started singing the song “He had it coming” from the Broadway show Chicago. While driving home that night, I was smiling because it was such a great moment and interaction between Kathleen and me. 

Many years ago, before my mother had her stroke, my belly dance group was having our annual fundraiser, a belly dance show with not only all of us but many other dancers from VT and other nearby states. 

I asked my mother if she was coming to the show, I knew the answer would be no, but I always invited her anyway. 

The few times she did come to gigs in Bennington over the years, she came and slept through one set and left. She never came to watch me cheer at games and only came to the first night of our senior play, while almost everyone else’s parents came all three nights. It was as if she had lost all interest in me and the things I was good at.

When I was little, before she started treating me like Cinderella when I was nine, she would be excited to get me into my two costumes and do my hair and makeup for my dance recitals.

I took solo dance lessons and performed solo as well. She strutted around like a proud peacock after the recitals and always had a bouquet of flowers for me.

Back to that belly dance show, my mother walked in ten minutes before the show started. She walked up to the circle of dancers I was chatting with. 

I said, “Oh good, you changed your mind!” She replied, “No, I’m going to bingo next door and wanted to see what you looked like.” Disappointed, I said, “Oh, okay.”

Before she left, she told me, “By the way, you should wear that color lipstick more often; it doesn’t make your teeth look so yellow.” I thought,” lady, you are such a bitch! Are you even fucking kidding me right now?”

She said goodbye, turned on her heel and walked next door to bingo. I was furious and embarrassed she said this in front of my fellow dancers.

I said something like, “I can’t fucking believe she just said that! Oh, wait, yea, I can.” It was perfect timing for her to get a jab in since the show started in five minutes. 

I had five minutes to get my shit together before turning into a Sahidi Sister and dancing, the show’s opening. Then I had to turn into DJ Julz since I ran the music for the show and kept everything on schedule.

That’s my relationship in a nutshell with my mother. The moment was so awkward for everyone in the circle, and it affected my dance sisters about to perform with me. It is a painful memory for me and still makes me enraged.

When I thought about how angry my mother made me that night after reading Maria’s blog, I sang the Cell Block Tango song again but dedicated it to my mother.

“Some women just can’t hold their arsenic! She had it coming; she had it coming, she only had herself to blame. If you’d a been there, if you’d have seen it, I’m sure you would have done the same.”

When I read Maria’s blog post, when I got to the part about Kathleen and me standing next to a cauldron, I instantly had a soul memory from a past life with Kathleen; when we were, are you ready for it? Witches.

I mentioned in my series, “My gifts,” I was a witch in many lifetimes and promised I wouldn’t be in this lifetime. I also knew Kathleen and I had been together before in other lifetimes; I just didn’t know when, where, or what. Now I know one time, at least.

Because of Maria’s blog post, I immediately knew she was with Kathleen and me in that lifetime since what she saw was a soul memory watching us. Interestingly, all the people we have meaningful relationships with, good or bad, are part of our soul cluster.

We keep coming back with our soul cluster members lifetime after lifetime, helping each other learn our soul’s lessons. Some people are there to test us and try to make us fail, some hurt us because we deserve it from a lesson we didn’t learn, some push us along, and others help us succeed with our lesson.

A few weeks ago, during a journey, a beautiful female spirit guide told me I was here to help my mother succeed in a lesson, but we all know how that ended. I told her, “that’s too bad since I was hurt and abused for nothing then.” She immediately told me, “it was a business contract and not to take it personally.” Easier said than done, beautiful spirit guide.

I sent Maria’s blog post to Kathleen, and when we spoke on the phone, she thanked me for sending it. After I told her about being witches together a very long time ago, she laughed. We kidded that the next time someone asks us how long we know each other, we can legitimately say for centuries! Lol.

Thanks, Maria, for your blog post; it had a much more significant impact on me than I thought when I first started reading it. I told Maria a while back I want to dance with her around a bonfire, which she and Jon always have during the full moon; now I know we probably have before!

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Happy 2nd Anniversary to my blog…

I wanted to start a blog for a long time, and it’s hard to believe it’s been up and running for two years. I have to admit I don’t write every day like I used to because none of the pieces I did for the sake of writing were blog-worthy. 

My friend Jon Katz always says to himself in his reader’s shoes, “Why should I give a shit?” When I started asking myself that question, I deleted posts before publishing them.

I used to be hard on myself that I didn’t publish a story every day, but I had to be honest with myself that I am a spätzle maker, delivery person, market vendor, and business owner, not a full-time writer. It’s not a cop-out; it’s reality.

All that aside, I love writing posts for my blog. Some posts are funny, while others are informative, sad, or outright bonkers. Some were creepy and some inspired people to try new recipes, which I love!

Many people loved the series I did on “My gifts,” and some did not, and I lost them as readers. You can’t make everyone love what you write all the time. I also gained a few new readers. If you like my blog, tell a friend or send them my link. I do a happy dance every time I pick up a new reader.

Everyone likes that I am so honest and authentic. They think I am brave. When I think of some of the things I’ve worked through by writing about them, it is brave sharing my innermost thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I also lost readers when I wrote emotional and sad pieces, but that’s okay, I am a lot some days.

This is how I am, honest and authentic, so it’s no different in print. Friends who know me will always tell me they can hear my voice when reading my blog and how my writing sounds exactly like I speak. They say it’s like I am talking directly to them.

Thank you, John Katz and Maria Wulf, who are my friends, bloggers, writers, photographers, and artists who inspire me to become a better writer and storyteller.

Thank you to my family, who have permitted me to be family members and characters in my stories. Thanks, Marty, for supporting me and my writing. It means the world to me when you tell me it was a good piece I wrote.

Finally, thanks to you guys reading this, I wouldn’t have a blog if no one had read it, and I love when people comment on different subjects; it gives me the confidence to keep going. 

I’ve published 473 posts in two short years, with plenty more to come. I’ve written over a million words in that period as well.

Thanks again; it’s humbling that anyone “gives a shit” about what I have to say. ♥️

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The shoe is gone…

I walked into the Old Mill building on Wednesday afternoon and laughed while gasping, “shoe is gone!”

I wrote a piece a couple of weeks ago titled The Mysterious Black Shoe, which I heard from many people that they had never heard of hidden shoes before and how interesting it was. 

Before I started my dance class, we discussed the shoe; funny enough, everyone else noticed it was gone. 

That being said, it wasn’t the case of who lost the shoe; it was about what the lost shoe meant to the people who noticed it or “found” it. 

For me, it was that I found a  new idea and took a big step in my writing career. 

For a couple of my dance sisters, it also had different meanings, indicating new paths for them to follow. 

So is that in the lost shoe saga? Maybe or maybe not; only time will tell. 

I have a few food posts to write; hopefully, I can do it in the next few days. Time is going by faster and faster, and there aren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything I wish to.

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Waste not, want not…

Yesterday morning, my friend Martin, the private chef, was prepping for a dinner party he would be cooking and serving that evening. 

I got a phone call while I was cleaning in the production kitchen, “Hey Julz, I have some leftover lobster claws and knuckles if you want them; I won’t be using them.”

Of course, I told him yes and ran across the street to his house. Martin was doing mise en place for the dinner; he just took a cake out of the oven and started a sauce. 

It smelled heavenly in his kitchen! He got out the leftover lobster for me. I stayed and chatted for a few minutes but got on my way since I knew he was busy. 

Martin was making an old-school dish called Lobster Thermidor. He was cooking for an older crowd who would go crazy for it. I would go crazy for it! 

This morning, I started the kitchen task of cracking the claws and knuckles and pulling out the lobster meat. There were a lot of them! 

At first, I was out of practice and timid, but then I sprung into action and was done in no time.

I had a lot of that “unwanted” lobster meat and decided to make Connecticut-style lobster rolls for lunch. 

Easily 2 lbs of lobster meat came from the claws and knuckles!

Instead of using mayo like in Maine lobster rolls, Connecticut-style warms up the lobster in melted butter with chives and a crushed garlic clove. Just warmed up, not reheated entirely. 

Sam came home last night to work a shift in Bennington since he is still a per diem employee. It was perfect timing for the lobster since it’s Sam’s favorite. 

I toasted some GF baguette (even though we would all rather have had a potato hotdog bun but can’t), melted some butter, and added chives and one crushed garlic clove. 

I let the butter simmer for a few minutes, added the lobster meat, and heated it until warm. I filled the buns, and viola! A delicious lobster roll lunch for free! Yay! 

I thanked Martin and texted him photos. He was so happy I got so much meat “out of those things.” Lol

Another cook’s waste is another cook’s treasure. That’s how stocks and sauces are made. 

Saucier Chefs come into the kitchen early in the morning and use the waste of bones, unused ends of produce, and the stems of herbs from the prep cooks. Nothing is thrown away.

The saucier chef roasts the bones and creates stocks, reductions, sauces, soups, and demi glazes. Basically, they are building flavors using waste, time, and skill.

Saucier Chefs create the backbone of the finished dishes prepared by dinner service line cooks and chefs. 

My culinary dream has always been to be a saucier chef. I love making stocks, sauces and gravies. Some of my culinary students used to call me the “Gravy Master.” 😂

I would love to come in early while the kitchen is quiet, except for the baker, who has been there since the middle of the night, creating their own magic with flour, water, and yeast.

The job is to create magic out of waste, then get the heck out of there before all hell breaks loose during dinner service. 

Sounds like a perfect job for me. 👩‍🍳

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A bull in a china shop…

It’s been a challenging week. Klaus had surgery on Thursday to remove a large cyst on his back paw. Of course, it started to grow and get angry looking in November when Otto began to fail. 

After losing Otto on December 9th, it was excruciating being in the same examination room where my poor sweet boy died. Klaus was even sitting in the exact spot where it happened. 

We sucked it up and moved past it keeping our emotions to ourselves, not wanting to let Klaus feel like something was weird or bad happening. 

The surgery could have gone either way, difficult or smooth; luckily for us and our vet, Dr. Beau, it was easier than he thought. He was happy with how the cyst came out/off, and he could close the wound tightly. 

The wound didn’t have to be bandaged, which was terrific for us since Klaus doesn’t like anyone but Sam to tend to those issues. He growls at us when we try to manage him when necessary. 

We don’t think he would bite us, but like my father said, “Any animal with teeth can bite you.” It has happened to people, so it makes me leary.

When they brought Klaus out when we picked him up, he looked pathetic, out of it, and mad. He was wearing a soft cone to protect the wound from licking. A soft cone was the only kind that fit his huge neck. 

Bulldogs are notorious for getting many infections that are hard to get rid of, so he must wear the cone all the time for ten days. Ugh!

Thursday night was rough because he was drugged, uncomfortable, and confused by the cone. We felt horrible, to begin with, then he would turn his head away when we tried to talk to him and wouldn’t look at us.

Friday morning was a completely different thing. He woke up not groggy and didn’t act like he hated us or was mad. He even started wagging his nub again. Yay! 

He quickly figured out how to drink and eat wearing the cone and had no difficulty walking. The wound looks good and doesn’t seem to bother him. 

We have been taking turns sleeping downstairs since he has needed to go out more frequently since he is on prednisone. He usually comes upstairs and wakes Marty up to go out. 

As the day went on, Klaus had no regard for the cone. He is a bull in a china shop knocking into things, bulldozing his way through the house, and bouncing off things he can’t see without his peripheral vision.

He slept great last night, only getting up once, and is back to his old self, making it tricky to keep him quiet and not want to go out and play ball. No Ball for two weeks, Dr. Beau said. Oh boy. 

Klaus is the biggest whiner and crybaby as it is following Marty around constantly and stares at him to go out and play. The next ten days will be challenging in that respect. 

After talking to other bulldog owners, we found out that they are not only one of the most expensive dogs to have since they have a lot of medical issues, but they are crybabies and want to play all the time.

I had a sleepover with Klausie downstairs last night and stayed home from the market today to keep an eye on him and let him out. 

Thank goodness everything went well, and he is on the mend and feeling better. We are keeping our fingers crossed the wound heals without any infection. 

I didn’t realize until Otto became sick in November how hard it is to be a dog’s steward and how much we love them and have to make the right decisions for them, not us. ♥️♥️

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The mysterious black shoe…

We’ve all seen a single shoe on the side of a highway or maybe in a parking lot. Before I wrote this piece, I had no idea how big a phenomenon a single shoe left behind is.

People have been finding”concealed shoes” for centuries in Europe. People have very different thoughts regarding concealed shoes, depending on who you talk to. 

Different countries and religious beliefs come into play when discussing concealed shoes. Concealed shoes are found in the walls of castles, churches, chapels, homes, and other buildings. 

Homeowners here in the states renovating their homes are also finding a single shoe in their walls or hidden in basements. 

These shoes may not always be concealed but hidden. Some are found up on shelves or windowsills right there in the open. But why? Some people believe on a spiritual level that losing a shoe is good luck for several reasons.

The first reason is protection. Shoes protect the feet from harm, cold or hot, and bug bites. Shoes make walking easier in rough terrain. Some say that leaving a shoe in a building or home protects it or the people who live there.

Losing a shoe can represent freedom. Freedom to walk on a new path in life or away from something negative. Some people think losing a shoe is a sign to travel or a new opportunity is waiting. 

Others believe losing a shoe can be a bad omen or not being fully in control of one’s life or what path to take. It may also mean you cannot handle a problem you face.

A person who loses a shoe may have been in danger or been running away from a crime scene. There have been many lost shoes found at crime scenes. Missing shoes became clues that later lead to the capture of many criminals and murders.

Our belly dance space is in an old mill building in Bennington, VT, which now houses many businesses. I love people are rehabbing old buildings instead of leaving them empty and eventually becoming eye sores.

Businesses such as gyms, doctor’s offices, retail businesses, creative spaces, and business offices. The building is in rough shape and not necessarily nice in the hallways and stairwells. 

The hallways and stairs are dark and dingy; the public bathroom is literally a shit hole. The business owners renovate their rented spaces to fit their needs. We have two gorgeous new bathrooms in the space where we dance, called Time for Yourself.

In true Irish fashion, telling a long story before the story, the point of my post, in late November, Kathleen and I noticed a black high heel shoe at the entrance of the Mill building at the bottom of the staircase. 

“Kathleen said, “There must have been a wild party; someone lost their shoe.” I replied, “No if it were a wild party, there would be a pair of panties too.” “True,” Kathleen agreed. Lol.

We saw the shoe every week, then right before Christmas, it disappeared. I thought someone must have finally found their shoe. Kathleen did too, but we never discussed it.

Yesterday, we both gasped, “The shoe is back!” It was proudly displayed on a wooden box at the bottom of the staircase. 

Kathleen shared with me her theory of the black shoe.”It’s a signal for something or someone.” “You mean like, ‘come up and see me sometime,’ as May West said. “Could be,” Kathleen said. 

Then I started thinking of different scenarios of why the shoe was there in the first place. It could have fallen out of someone’s gym bag. That’s a good guess. 

Many people come straight from work to the gym, but after living in Vermont for 30+ years, I know that hardly anyone wears high heels to work. Even getting dressed up super fancy, requiring high heel shoes, is a rarity. Medium heels, yes, those are doable.

I found out quickly when we moved here that the sidewalks and parking lots are unlike in metropolitan areas; if you wear high heels, you are sure to break your neck. Seriously.

Another far fetched theory, it could be a one-legged woman or drag queen needed a shoe for a Christmas party. It was spotted by a friend who took it. The one-legged person wore it to a party; their friend returned it afterward. That’s probably unlikely, so back to Kathleen’s idea of the shoe being a signal. 

I picked up the shoe last night as we left after dance class. It was a Jessica Simpson brand shoe in size 7 and in worse condition than it looked from far away.  A size 7 meant a one-legged drag queen didn’t borrow it, that’s for sure.

I hope I am not offending anyone who has only one leg. Please forgive me, I don’t mean it to be hurtful, but it’s part of the investigation and included in the files.

The clues here are the shoe is from Jessica Simpson shoes. with something strange inside.
Jessica Simpson hawking her shoes on HSN>

After further inspecting the shoe in question, I saw a mysterious piece of painted paper inside the shoe which looked like a piece of bacon to me. It was cut out and not torn, and why was it in the shoe?

When I showed it to Kathleen and Emily, they agreed it definitely didn’t look like bacon. Is the bacon paper another signal for something? Is it a clue? The bacon was not in the shoe before it vanished.

Will we ever find out the meaning of the black shoe? Do we care? Hell yeah! It’s winter in Vermont, so playing Scooby Doo by solving a mystery passes the time and is entertaining.

My last theory is since I can feel the building is haunted, an old mill ghost is screwing around and having fun with the shoe, making a strange noise that sounds like a peg-legged pirate. Ghosts love pulling pranks like this! 

In closing, I don’t think it is a lost shoe anymore since it vanished and reappeared. What do you think? Scooby dooby doo! 🧐

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Oatmeal raisin cookie?

Plus ice cubes!

Take a look at the ingredients in the photo above. You may notice the ingredients are different from other oatmeal raisin cookie recipes. That’s because it’s not a cookie; it’s a smoothie!

I never make New Year’s resolutions, but back in December, I started craving salads and smoothies. Salads in the winter? Ok, there are plenty of winter salads out there. A smoothie? That’s the thing that gets me; I don’t like smoothies.

The closest thing that comes close to a smoothie that I do love is an Orange Julius that you find at the mall. I’ve been in love with these since my teens and still get one every once in a while when we are at Crossgate Mall in Albany. An Orange Julius is like a frothy creamsicle. Yum!

I started looking through smoothie recipes. I have no interest in powdered smoothies or fruit drinks; if I am going to drink one, it will be made with natural, wholesome ingredients. I want to control the flavor and texture.

Replacing my regular on-the-go, quick breakfasts with smoothies isn’t dieting by any stretch of the word. It’s hard to think of what to make for us for breakfast every day before production.

It has to be filling enough to hold us over for hours, something a carby breakfast doesn’t do. A yogurt isn’t satisfying, and a banana with peanut butter gets redundant. Most importantly, it has to taste good.

I picked up a few ingredients to start making smoothies. I bought bags of frozen blueberries and tropical fruit. I got a bunch of bananas and spent way too much time in the milk section deciding what type of milk I wanted to use in our smoothies.

I don’t want to use yogurt in our smoothies since I don’t like the tang they leave. I want the smoothies to be creamy, which means using some kind of milk. I drink Lactaid milk since I am lactose intolerant, but I thought that would be a waste since Marty isn’t.

Many recipes I looked at used oat or cashew milk which are all lactose-free. Then I noticed coconut milk which had fewer calories than regular milk. Coconut milk seemed like natural milk found everywhere worldwide; meaning, how the fuck do you make milk out of oats?

On Monday morning, I made a blueberry and banana smoothie adding protein powder, a drop of vanilla extract, honey, and coconut milk to the fruit. It was meh at best. Shit, it’s the first day, and already it’s not what I was expecting.

I returned to the drawing board, started looking for different smoothie recipes, and struck gold! I found a recipe for Oatmeal Raisin Cookie smoothies! I read the ingredients, knowing I had what was needed. Of course, I tweaked the recipe because that’s me and my palate.

Before and after adding the coconut milk.

If you click on the recipe link above, you will notice the recipe contains cashew butter for more protein. I didn’t add it to our smoothies but added a teaspoon of maple syrup and kosher salt. Before adding the salt, I tasted the drink and thought it was ok, but it didn’t taste like a cookie. After adding a pinch of salt, voila! A cookie in a glass! I loved it!

The other thing I loved was the texture. I blended it well with the blender, but it left small pieces of oats and raisins, which was fantastic in adding texture. I put bubble tea straws in our smoothies to make them easy to drink. It was so damn tasty! Lol.

While making spätzle batter, I started thinking about other smoothies I could make, like the oatmeal raisin one. I have a bunch in mind and will start putting together ideas. Blueberry “pie” is already on the list. 🫐 🥧

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Three strikes…

I charged all of my crystals and gemstone during the full moon last night. I still put them all on the windowsills even though the beautiful moon was covered up by thick clouds. This little crystal & gemstone tree was a Christmas present I received from Aja. I love it and can’t wait to feel its energy which will be magnified by the copper the stones are wrapped in.

I am feeling the doldrums of winter in every way possible. Even though I am on anti-depressants, seasonal depression has been gnawing at me and I know I am not alone.

I’ve been tired, sluggish and feeling lazy. All I want to do is lay on the couch with a blanket and do nothing, I don’t of course, but think about it all day. I hate feeling this way. 

I wrote three blog pieces this week, but before editing them I realized I wrote nothing more than the ramblings of a crazy person. So I deleted them. This went on for 3 straight days. 

I don’t write for the sake of writing and won’t publish shit just to publish something. I am glad after I write an article, I let it sit and simmer before I go back and reread it. 

So basically, I’ve got nothing this week. I need to get out of this lazy funk. I feel like a grizzly bear waiting for spring or at least a few days of sun.

Living in the Northeast isn’t a good place for people with seasonal depression. I can’t wait to be in a position to be a “snow bird” one day, getting the hell out of here for a couple of months and getting into some warmth and sunshine.

I am still working, cooking and keeping up with chores, but feel like I am doing it in a pot of molasses. 

Anyway, have a good weekend guys. We are on our way to the farmers market even though all I really want to do is go back to bed. I’ll put on my “julz”‘and make it through another cold, gray, and gloomy day. 😕

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Comfy on a raw & wet day…

We were on the road early this morning making deliveries to Greenwich, Saratoga, Clifton Park and Albany. Then, we went to our oil change appointment at 11 am in Latham.

After our oil change we planned to stay in the Albany area and pick up some supplies and eat lunch but decided to go home. The weather was dreadful.

Today, feels like a gray November day, in the mid 30s with rain, later mixed with sleet. It’s raw, and foggy. A perfect day to light the fireplace, grab a blanket and my kindle.

I rarely take the luxury of cuddling up with a blanket and book at 2:30 pm, but today I did and it feels nice and cozy.