I’m still here! I haven’t written in days; it’s not that I haven’t wanted to, I haven’t had anything noteworthy to write about.
VT Spätzle has been busy, in fact we are already behind for next week! This is a great thing but a little overwhelming at times. Our small business consists of Marty and me and that is how we want to keep it for the time being.
All week I’ve been completely stressed out until Marty pointed out two things yesterday that made me start to think of things a little differently or try to anyway.
We would be more stressed out if we didn’t have orders coming in. ✔️
I can’t worry about the things I have no control over such as the current state of affairs and high prices. ✔️
While I try to give all my worries over one by one to God at night, these worries are deep in my subconscious. They are so deep I have been woken from a deep sleep twice this week with terrible anxiety attacks. What the fuck?
On the outside I don’t appear to be stressed out, but this is how depression and anxiety usually works. It’s true that some of the most happy and funny people are the ones suffering from depression and anxiety. Take Robin Williams for example.
Last night at dance class, I had fun without any worries or stress. I really needed to dance; when I do all of my thoughts outside of the dance studio fade away. Dance really is my therapy.
This was from last June when we had a photo shoot.
When I am dancing or teaching I am in the moment. I am not thinking about what I need to do, or things I’ve already done. I am in that one moment of time with music and the women I love to dance with.
Any of our dancers will tell you just how therapeutic dance is. We have all had a bad, rough, tiring, or just a bla day and didn’t feel like going to class. Since we are dedicated we show up anyway and always leave with a smile on our face.
Today, we are out of the production kitchen making deliveries in Saratoga & Albany. We really don’t have a production day to waste, but the orders need to be delivered.
While we are in Albany, we also have errands to run, scheduled an oil change, and supplies to pick up. Every trip counts just like every penny.
So as you can see, there is nothing exciting to mention or no fabulous food to share. I wanted to check in anyway and say hello so you don’t forget about me. 🙂
*** I used my phone when I wrote this on the road coming back from Albany so forgive the mistakes; its hard to post this way, but it’s the only time I will have tonight.
History was my favorite subject in school, and I still love it today. We live in historical Arlington, VT, a small town with some famous residents such as Ethan Allen one of the Green Mountain Boys.
Some others include Seth Warner, Samuel Adams, Remember Baker, Thomas Chittenden, Dorothy Canfield Fisher, Norman Rockwell, and the newest famous resident Alec Baldwin.
I wrote about the history of Arlington, VT last year in a blog post titled “Puddle jumping through history.” You can read the blog post by clicking on the title if you are interested.
Last May the city of Troy, NY, where we are vendors at the Troy Farmers Market, HBO turned Troy into New York City in the 1880s. HBO was filming a new series called The Gilded Age. The transformation was incredible down to the most minor details.
I wrote about the transformation in a blog post titled “Hollywood on the Hudson.” The day I walked around the streets turned movie sets I was utterly alone except for one other person snapping photos and taking it all in like I was. It was very cool. You can read the blog post by clicking on the title.
Our vendor spot at the Troy Farmers Market is located on lower River Street. I knew there was a plaque on the building directly behind us; today I went over and read it.
It was where the poem ‘Twas the night before Christmas was first published. I love shit like this and grabbed my phone to take a picture.
I did some research on Dr. Clement C. Moore the author. The writer’s cousin sent the famous poem to The Troy Sentinel Newspaper anonymously. Dr. Moore wrote the poem in 1822, but it was published on December 23,1823.
The inspiration he got for the poem was while he was walking through the streets of NYC looking for gifts and a Christmas goose for charity. He saw a chubby round gentleman with both white hair and a beard. This is who prompted the poem.
This poem led to the story of the modern-day Santa Claus we know today. Rudolph came along later. LOL. Geez, that’s two Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer references this week from me!
Dr. Moore wrote the poem at Christmas time for his six children and had no idea it would be published, let alone become iconic. I am sure he didn’t imagine when writing the poem that would create the legend of Santa Claus.
After the poem was published, at first, Dr. Moore was embarrassed by the childish poem and felt it wasn’t something to be proud of since he was known as a highly educated man. He didn’t want people to know it was he who penned it.
However, after the publication, Dr. Clement Moore took credit for the famous poem when he saw people’s reactions and a new love for old St. Nick. The rest is history.
Troy, NY is a city rich in history, it is known as the home of Uncle Sam. A welcome sign tells you so as you drive along route 7 headed towards Vermont. It’s been there for the 33 years I’ve lived in VT.
Samuel Wilson was always cleanly shaven even though his well-known image as Uncle Sam has a beard.
I did some more research and looked up the history of Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam was a real person named Samuel Wilson who is buried at the Oakwood Cemetery in Troy. Here is a link about Uncle Sam if you want to know more about him. He was a remarkable man who eventually became the face of America.
So, on this severely windy and cold day at the farmers market which is located along the Hudson River, I became curious about the history of the building standing 20 feet behind us. It was an unexpected history lesson that I loved learning about.
I found out from the Poetry Foundation the poem was originally titled “A visit from St. Nicholas.” I never gave the poem a thought about where it came from, and now I know. “Hey, and if you don’t know now, you know.” A quote from Hamilton.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her’ kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!” As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the housetop the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too— And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
My skirt and hip shawl I wore to practice in after teaching last night.
I love teaching *ATS® belly dance every week, but last night’s class was even more fun and inspiring. Nothing springs everyone back into performance mode as a real gig on the calendar for late August. We haven’t performed in public since October 2019.
Our dance troupe could keep dancing during the pandemic with the help of videos I made and Kathleen and Emily holding zoom classes.
We all came back to dancing in person last April. It was interesting that everyone improved over the pandemic despite not having classes the traditional way. I took 6 months off from dancing and didn’t even listen to belly dance music. I came back fresh and stronger than ever like everyone else.
Since the beginning of this year, classes have been energized with the addition of our three new students. Classes went back to beginners fundamentals and basics. We were all amazed at how fast the three picked it up. I love watching them get better and better each week and having fun, something vital to me.
After we received our invitation via email for a performance opportunity last week, it got me in full-on drill sergeant mode. While everyone was has been at classes and dancing every week there was a lot to do to get ready for a real public gig.
Maria and Trish have minimal performance experience but are super excited and were the first to say they were in. Callie, who has performance experience, and I will round out our quad for the gig. As soon as everything is finalized I will post more about the gig if anyone local would like to attend. It’s always nice having familiar faces and encouragement in the audience.
Last night, we reviewed what we needed to work on and my expectations. Everyone in the class, not just the ones doing the gig, got as excited as I did and were happy to drill their asses off.
They want to correct their technique and go over what moves they aren’t comfortable with. They also want to practice leading starting and stopping songs. I encouraged Trish and Maria to practice zilling at home, so it’s one less thing to worry about at class and the gig.
Right now, I am concentrating on everyone’s arms and posture. No more sloppy or limp arms; I am preaching about how proper posture is even more essential to help all the moves look better.
This was a great place to start. Over the next few weeks, we will also be working on stage presence and group dynamics. We are an ATS® group improv belly dance group that is only as good as the energy the dancers put out to the audience.
So what exactly is stage presence? It is not being dressed up in costuming and makeup looking good. It’s the way you hold your head, have a smile, or at least a pleasant look on your face.
Dancers should act professionally at a gig since you are “on” at an event, even if you aren’t on stage. Showing up on time and ready to go is a must and reduces stress before the gig. It sucks when it doesn’t happen and is hard to let go of before going on stage. This may be my biggest pet peeve of all when performing.
The most significant part of stage presence is being confident. Walking on stage or at a gig with a confident air about you automatically makes people think you know what you are doing. It’s “fake it til you make it” in the beginning, and that’s ok. Hell, I did it for the first year. It’s doing everything with a purpose, even if you fuck up. “I meant to do that”kind of attitude goes a long way.
Group dynamics is when a group of dancers is having fun dancing together. It’s getting into each other’s energy zone and feeling what they will do next. It’s encouraging each other with smiles, little “yips” and zaghareets when they do something extraordinary. Ramping up the energy gets the audience excited that something fun is happening.
A favorite meme of mine sorry it’s blurry.
So what in the hell is a zaghareet anyway? Here is an excellent description I found on the website Kesavah Bellydance.
“A Zaghareet (also known as an ululation) is a loud trilling that sounds something like “loo loo loo loo loo….” and often ends with an “eeeeeeeee” sound. It’s a combination of a high pitched, quite loud, “shriek” for want of a better word, as well as the “loo loo loo loo” trilling of the tongue layered on top.
The sound is made in celebration at weddings, births, and other auspicious events. Women usually cover their mouths while zaghareeting – some say this prevents evil spirits from entering; others say it’s to be polite and hide your open mouth.
It isan expression of joy, excitement, encouragement in the arab culture. It’s totally welcome to do when another dancer is on stage, also in a Zaffa (wedding parade in front of the bride and groom). It lends an air of excitement and charges the room/dance with a lively electric current.“
This is why we cover our mouths when zaghareeting, no one wants to see your tongue flapping around. 😂
So last night was like someone lit a match under everyone’s ass. The class had fun and is genuinely excited to work hard on their technique and get better by “dancing” together, not just stringing together a series of dance moves and calling it dancing. There is a vast difference.
One of the most complex parts of ATS® group improv dancing is there isn’t any choreography to follow, so everyone is dancing in the moment. We can dance to the same song ten times in a row, and it will never be the same. It’s truly organic and beautiful. People can’t believe it isn’t choreographed; we have heard that by hundreds of people over the last 18 years.
How ATS® group improv dance works, each dancer takes turns leading the group with small cues or gestures. Everyone hears and feels music differently, making it fun and ever-changing. Since things are changing all the time you have to pay attention.
One of the hardest parts about learning to lead is getting out of your head and letting the dance moves come from within and not overthink them. This is when things go wrong and look forced. That smile or pleasant look on their faces goes away, and they look like they are concentrating too hard.
Dancing from within takes a long time; it took me a couple of years not dreading taking the lead at gigs and enjoying it, plus feeling confident about it.
Selfie in the parking lot of the dance space. I just did a cut and color to my hair and was raring to go!
Kathleen and I laughed yesterday during our practice time about how whenever we step into the lead, neither of us knows what we will do ourselves until it happens. We are as surprised by what moves come out as much as the other dancers.
A blurry meme, but it’s my favorite!
To get people to feel comfortable and not afraid of taking the lead, we start our new students right away by learning how to step in and out of the lead position. Once they feel comfortable with that, they can lead a move or two.
The new dancers are always amazed that everyone knows what they are trying to do and can follow along. I don’t push anyone past their comfort zone because, after all, dance is supposed to be fun and not stressful. Everyone moves at their own pace.
I haven’t been this excited about dance in a very long time. I have an upbeat and enthusiastic teaching style, but now it’s on complete overdrive.
Driving home at 8 pm on Wednesday nights after three hours of teaching classes and practicing with Kathleen, I am exhausted but always have a massive smile on my face because I am so proud of how my students danced, how far they have come, and how much fun we had.
I haven’t written about belly dance for some time, but I think I will be much more in the future! Yip! 😉
Is there a difference between summer and outdoor kitchens? The answer is yes.
Summer kitchens originated in our country back in the early 1800s. Wealthy plantation owners built summer kitchens away from the main house on their property. The structures were usually made of timber, rocks, and bricks.
Its purpose was to keep slaves and servants away from the main house while having a place to cook and prepare large meals for everyone on the plantation.
Another practical reason for the owners to have summer kitchens was to keep smoke, and strong cooking smells out of their homes and keep the homes cooler in the hot months.
For the similar practical reasons, summer kitchens became popular in New England and New York. Outdoor kitchens weren’t just for wealthy plantation owners anymore; regular working-class people built summer kitchens on their properties.
Settlers that headed west brought the idea of summer kitchens along with them. They became prevalent in the midwest.
Summer kitchens were practical, especially when it came to harvest time. They were cooler and roomier to fit more people than the small kitchens in their homes.
The proverbial phrase many hands make light work made it possible for groups of women to work together processing and to can food for the winter months ahead.
With the introduction of modern ovens and air conditioning, summer kitchens were no longer desired and petered out; however, many people in the mid-west still have and use theirs.
A modern summer kitchen.
As far as real estate is concerned, the remains of old and historic rock or brick summer kitchens are a valuable asset to properties. They are sometimes made into sheds, workshops, or yoga studios.
After summer kitchens became a thing of the past and after World War 2 ended, the company Weber introduced their first home grill in the early 1950s. The grill was promoted as “Backyard fun” for the family. Beer, drink, food and snack manufacturers jumped on the bandwagon with this promotional idea to be part of the backyard fun.
Images courtesy of Weber.
Most families had grilling and picnic areas in their backyards but not nothing compared to an outdoor or summer kitchen. We know the “man of the house” did the grilling while the woman did everything else for a cookout. Why did they think someone who had no experience or knowledge of cooking regularly like the woman of the house did was in charge of grilling the main part of the meal?
See how the woman is doing everything else? 😜
To back this up, most of the cookouts I went to as a kid had black hotdogs, burgers as dry as hockey pucks, and chicken either burned beyond recognition or raw in the middle. I rest my case!
For the same reason, I will never understand why the man of the house carved the Thanksgiving turkey? Was it done out of honor? Was it too dangerous for a woman to use a carving knife? Was she too intimated or ladylike? 🤔
Back to the topic on hand, I believe in giving credit where credit is due. The Food Network is what sparked America’s love of home cooking and grilling in the mid 1980s. It all started with Emeril Lagasse’s show How to Boil Water. Viewers were mesmerized by watching celebrity chefs cooking and grilling outdoors; of course, they wanted to do the same thing.
This type of cooking was making real food for real people and educating them simultaneously. Viewers didn’t feel intimated like they did by French cooking programs on television and could prepare the dishes they learned any night of the week. I believe it was the birth of the modern outdoor kitchen craze. The rest is history.
Ok, so what is an outdoor kitchen? A place to serve drinks & cocktails, make pizzas, grill, and entertain friends and family when the weather is nice.
Modern outdoor kitchens have sinks and sometimes dishwashers. Most of them have high-end grills and small appliances such as refrigerators, kegerators, and wine fridges. Many have authentic pizza ovens brought over from Italy.
These gorgeous, fully covered outdoor kitchens can also have fireplaces, large flat-screen TVs, and various sectional seating areas. It is truly a living and entertaining extension of someone’s home.
We had a lot to consider when we were in the planning and designing stages of our outdoor kitchen back in 2020 at the beginning of the pandemic.
While I love those incredible outdoor kitchens, we knew that wasn’t us or suitable for our property. The cost was another issue.
We knew we wanted an outdoor kitchen for cooking, grilling, frying, smoking meats, and making pizzas with a large prep area.
It turns out our once referred to as our “outdoor kitchen” is more of a summer kitchen. It is set up for functionality and cookery, not for entertainment or show. This was not a priority for us since we rarely entertain or have company.
We use our summer kitchen as often as possible. We have pretty shitty weather here in VT a lot of the time, so we love spending as much time outdoors as possible.
Our summer kitchen is an uncovered, open-air kitchen with all commercial equipment. It is practical for me to cook, fry, and grill outdoors to keep the heat, smoke, and strong smells out of the house, just like back in the old days.
Marty was able to find all of our outdoor commercial equipment and work tables on Facebook Marketplace for ridiculously low prices.
There is a two-burner stove, a flat top grill, and an infrared grill. We have a small commercial fryer and a small, portable pizza oven we use often. We made sure to have lots of prep space so more than one person could be working in the kitchen at the same time.
We still use the summer kitchen for grilling in the winter months even though the other equipment is covered up. I have grilled in torrential downpours and snow storms wearing snow boots since the snow was up to my knees.
Chorizo and Portuguese Garlic Shrimp.
Last night, I used the summer kitchen to make a meal I usually cook indoors in cast iron pans. It made total sense to use the grill as a stove and cook dinner outside on a beautiful evening.
Our summer kitchen isn’t fancy-schmancy like outdoor kitchens, but it’s a well-designed, hip, and functional space to make some kick-ass food in the great outdoors.
Friday nights are our favorite night of the week to sit on our front porch and watch all the campers, tourists, and the weekend hustle and bustle go by.
I hurried today to be done with work and my chores by 5 pm or also known as happy hour.
I went straight from the production kitchen to making deliveries to three of our local wholesale customers. I had to stop to get a few groceries for the weekend.
As soon as I walked into the crowded store I thought, ”Kill me now and put me out of misery!” Ugh! I got what I needed, minus a few items the store was out of and got the hell out of there asap.
Not that I am complaining one bit, but the forecasted rainy day turned out to be glorious! I got sidetracked from my chores to take a swim then got cracking.
I wanted to make something easy to eat on the porch. So instead of leaving the chicken breasts whole, I cut them into strips for chicken marsala. No knives necessary. Boom!
Some rice pilaf and fresh green beans made for a fine Friday night porch supper.
It’s going to be an early night; we are up before the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow at 4:30 am to get ready for our farmers market in Troy, NY.
I just looked at the time and it is 8:45 pm and is still daylight! I wait all year for this.
I would consider myself a francophile. I love French cooking. I also love French decor items, cookware, china, and furniture. My favorite place in the world and on my short bucket list of places to visit is Paris.
One of my good friends is moving back to France after living there on and off again for 40 years. She packed up some things to be shipped over and got rid of the rest of her stuff. She was starting over. Many of the pieces of furniture came from France and were shipped over to the US many years ago.
By a twist of fate, I was lucky enough to have two pieces of French antique bedroom furniture from her childhood. The pieces are petit but so is our bedroom.
A couple of years ago, when we painted and redecorated our bedroom, we sold our enormous furniture and picked up two small dressers secondhand. I have found that I missed all that storage in our bedroom and could never find anything in my dark closet.
Now, I have a “new” French armoire and a make-up vanity. I’ve wanted a vanity like this for decades! The two pieces fit our bedroom perfectly and look like they belong there, as if they’ve been there all along.
I love the stool to the vanity and it’s so comfy!
I also adopted my friend’s large rosemary plant she’s had for years, taking it in during the winter and putting it outside in the summer. She was going to leave it behind but asked if I wanted it. Of course, I would take it!
Fingers crossed I don’t kill her plant.
The plant is so aromatic you can smell it as you walk by it, and I cook a lot with rosemary. I hope to keep it alive and happy; I will try my best after asking her how to care for it.
Our bedroom is my little piece of France right here in Vermont. It feels like a small apartment bedroom in Paris. I love it! I am glad Marty likes it, too, even though it is on the feminine side. Nothing else in our house is girlie or frilly, but our bedroom is the one exception.
My friend purchased a new home in France with plenty of room for guests. We have a standing invitation anytime we can get to France. Plus, I could have a tour guide show me the ropes in Paris and not be disappointed by tourist traps.
Even though I didn’t see my friend often, catching up when we picked up my new Parisian furniture was a sweet goodbye. I’ll miss her, but I know France is where her heart is.
It’s another gorgeous day here in Vermont on Memorial Day. We have been sitting on the front porch having coffee, enjoying the sunshine and watching the world go by. I should say flying by because people drive 20 mph over the speed limit all the time.
It just doesn’t feel right posting about food or any other stupid shit about my life today.
I am not ”that guy” that posts on my Facebook wall a ”Happy whatever the fuck” to all my Facebook friends, although I have to say its good to see the people who only post on holidays are still alive and well.
Today isn’t about food, drinks, bbq, parties, the kick-off to summer, or the official “it’s ok to wear white pants now” its about honoring and remembering the brave men and women who gave their lives for us.
These are the men and women who give us the freedom to celebrate anyway we wish today or any day including wearing white pants and linen all year.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved orange-flavored things to eat and smell. Last year, I wrote about an Italian Ice stand in Elizabeth, NJ my father used to take me. An older Italian woman made and sold both lemon and orange Italian Ice. Here is the link to that blog post about Catherine and a photo of her Italian Ice shack.
The Italian ice stand was located in the Italian section of Elizabeth called Peterstown, where both my parents grew up. People stood in line for blocks to get some Italian ice on a hot summer night. I always picked orange, and my dad always picked lemon.
I loved that there were pits in the ice which collected at the bottom of the white paper cup, which I spit one by one seeing how far they would go. My mother would have never allowed this kind of behavior; hell, I got slapped and yelled at for blowing bubbles in my chocolate milk whenever we ate at a diner, the only place I drank chocolate milk with a straw.
I still like to blow bubbles in my chocolate milk, and it has never bubbled over. As an adult I can’t understand the big deal; neither of my boys even wanted to blow bubbles in their milk so I never got to “let” them do it.
Last week, at our farmers market in Troy, NY, I sampled a tiny bit of orangecello from a new vendor two spots down from us. I am a big fan of limoncello and used to make it often; in fact, I have a bottle in the bar fridge right now. But the orangecello? Holy moly, it was like having that Italian ice again, but even better because it has booze in it!
I didn’t even ask how much it was and bought a bottle. I, the frugal cook and shopper, was ready to pay whatever the cost. It was a little high, but this is strictly for sipping straight up and respecting the liquor.
Here is the weird part, to me anyway, the Italian ice stand in Elizabeth was owned and operated by the DiCosmo family. The orangecello is made by a chef from Villa di Como in Italy along with a variety of sauces and oils.
Yesterday, we were on the road making deliveries, our first stop was in Clifton Park, NY. We went to 518 Donuts, a shop that sells gluten-free fried chicken and gluten-free donuts. The business owners have so much passion and are super friendly.
They have committed to the seriousness and safety making sure there is no cross-contamination occurring between their regular high-end donuts and the gluten-free ones. High-end, meaning store made with kick-ass toppings and flavors. If I could have had a regular donut I would have had a hard time choosing between the maple bacon, chocolate-covered strawberry, campfire, Samoas, or french toast.
For gluten-free local readers, all the fried chicken is boneless and gluten-free so there isn’t any confusion about what goes into the fryer. The chicken is prepared Korean style meaning they fry it twice. It’s crunchy af and not greasy.
They also have chicken fried dough with this amazing dipping sauce which is off the fucking hook. Their potato crisps and hashbrowns are also gluten-free. It’s worth the trip over to Clifton Park, just be prepared it’s a little pricey but worth every penny! They are in the midst of opening a second location in Troy, NY, how psyched are we?
Marty had a gluten-free breakfast sandwich, and he said it was the best one he has had for years since we have been gluten-free. I chose a creamsicle donut; more orange! It tasted exactly like a creamsicle and as good as any regular donut. It was pure decadence. Yum! Whenever I went to an ice cream truck as a kid, I always chose creamsicle popsicles.
The last tale of the orange happened just a little later on. We stopped at Crossgates mall looking for some sandals for me. We were both thirsty so Marty suggested getting an Orange Julius. Orange Julius is one of our favorite drinks dating way back to the 80s at a mall in NJ.
If you aren’t familiar with Orange Julius it’s a juice and smoothie shop. I didn’t remember them having so many different smoothies, but then again I never look at the menu because I know exactly what I am ordering.
With my Jersey accent, I say “are-ange” not “or-ange” which I argue about with Sam often when he corrects me. Shut up kid, I say it correctly because of this joke I learned when I was around 6 years old. This is how it goes:
Knock knock. Who’s there? Apple. Apple who? Knock knock. Who’s there? Apple. Apple who? Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who? “Are-ange” you glad I didn’t say apple? 😜
Happy Friday! Enjoy your holiday weekend! We are off to the farmer’s market tomorrow. We are making different kinds of grilled pizzas with drinks and a campfire with our neighbors on Sunday night. Hopefully, we can take off on Monday. We have the shortest but cutest Memorial Day parade here in Arlington that we look forward to every year.
I just pulled some Cheddar, Chive, and Maple Bacon Scones out of the oven for breakfast tomorrow morning. I may have to try one of the little ones just to make sure they are tasty. BTW…they are! Here is the recipe link I used. As a side note, I add maple syrup to the heavy cream that is painted on the scones before they go into the oven.
These last two production days have been long and its only Tuesday. We are taking a short break in between production and deliveries so I am sneaking in a quick post while I have the chance.
On Sunday I took the day off. Boy am glad I did. The dinner I prepped ahead came out super tasty and cooked in minutes.
I used my flat sword types of skewers for the grilled marinated pork. I made a traditional Spanish marinade which was a flavor bomb!
Since the pork were on large flat metal skewers, the meat cooked quickly. Faster than I imagined, its a good thing I had my trusty temperature probe with me.
The chunks of pork cooked on the grill took about 8 minutes. Thank goodness I decided to brine the pork first or it would have dried out.
Yum!
I will definitely be making these pork kebabs again. Last night for dinner I made pork sub sandwiches topped with quick pickled onions and cole slaw. It was fast, easy and delicious. I love leftovers!
Gotta go! Deliveries are waiting and I didn’t have time to edit; my apologies.
Yesterday, I stood at the end of the deck in the beautiful sunshine. It was in the 80s with no humidity. I yelled, “Geronimo!” Then I jumped into our new pool. I am not a gloater, but our pool is open, and we have been swimming since May 10th. If I were a gloater, I would say, “Waz up bitches! Check it out; I’m swimming already!”
Heat pump and filter system.
Swimming on May 10th may sound crazy, especially since we live in the Northeast, but the water temperature was 84 degrees. Marty and I waited our whole adult life to have a pool and decided we would invest in a heat pump to swim comfortably for six months out of the year.
If we didn’t have a heated pool, we would only be swimming in July and August. We both grew up with above-the-ground pools and used them a lot. We didn’t give two shits when we were kids if the water was warm or cold.
I remember my parents forcing me to come out of the pool when my lips were blue. My dad tried to keep me out of the pool if the water was colder than 70 degrees. The ridiculous thing to me as a kid and still kind of now is the waiting 30 minutes after you eat to swim again. Why?
How many people got stomach cramps from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch or a piece of chicken or hot dog for dinner. It wasn’t like we ever ate big belly sinker meals in the dog days of summer.
Yesterday, after production, we quickly put on our bathing suits so we could get into the pool to install our “wedding cake” stairs. I knew these pool stairs existed but didn’t know they were called wedding cake steps. Guess what? They look like a wedding cake!
A small set of wedding cake stairs.
We have learned from watching other people’s mistakes that since we are in our mid to late 50s, everything we buy we do with 15 years later in mind. Older people who buy a 3rd-floor walk-up apartment or build a brand new home and don’t put their master bedroom on the ground floor aren’t thinking ahead.
We both knew that going up and down a ladder wouldn’t work for us. It was shaky and dangerous using the ladder only a few times, so we knew it would be impossible down the road.
Marty found a set of used steps in Facebook Marketplace, where we find almost everything we buy. He picked up the steps for $150, which cost as high as $800 new. Marty is a master at finding the things we need at the right time and price.
The wedding cake steps make entering and exiting the pool safe and easy. As a bonus, the steps are a perfect place for us to sit and enjoy a cocktail in the pool.
Me and Sam relaxing today. This was absolute heaven!
We had to build a small deck for the steps to attach to; for the record dollar for dollar, that was the most expensive part of the whole pool project due to the unbelievably high cost of building materials.
Now we won’t have to go to a hotel that has a pool because we want to sit our asses on lounge chairs and take a dip. We can go somewhere to sightsee or to a particular destination when we go away.
Marty texted me this photo last night when I was at dance class. It’s the only one I have of him in the pool and it was great to see he was relaxing. The solar cover goes on at night to keep the heat in.
The best part of the whole heat pump thing is that instead of waiting to swim, we can do it already. We will be able to swim through October as well if we wish.
Today, I remembered everything I did in the pool when I was a kid, like handstands and crab walks. I jumped in a bunch of times. I transplanted some herbs this afternoon, and it was hot on our back deck. After I got done planting, the most incredible thing was I jumped back into the pool to cool off.
“Cannonball!” 😂
Klaus wanted to cool off in his own pool, but he destroyed it. Marty couldn’t get it away from him. 😜
