Category: Uncategorized

Every week things are slowly opening up again. This spring feels like a complete renewal, especially after the year we have all had.

This morning I saw my mother in person at the care facility she lives at. In a year, I only saw her once during the summer at an outdoor visit. The activities department set up numerous FaceTime visits over the year, and all of her care plan meetings were done over speakerphone. Even after things are back to “normal,” I will continue with the telephone care plan meetings; it’s so much more efficient with no chit-chat. I can also continue to work in the production kitchen during the meeting. Win, win! 

I had my temperature taken and had to answer a few questions, then went through a side door. My mother was waiting for me along with a really nice girl from the activities department. Our visit was limited to only 20 minutes, which honestly was enough time for her and me. We had to stay 6 feet apart. She didn’t have on a mask which was good, so I could figure out what she was saying. She started getting sleepy before the visit was over. 

I went into the visit with zero expectations, a lesson I’ve made myself learn over the last year with everything. In the past, I’ve given a lot of myself to people, only to be disappointed and or hurt.

My mother was the same as a year ago. I stayed positive and cheery, avoiding any drama during the visit. I kept the conversation light and didn’t fall back into any of my past habit traps. It was a God-sent having the activities girl with us the whole time. When the time was up, I was permitted to hug her since she had both of her vaccines. I left her with two boxes of marshmallow peeps, her favorite Easter candy, and took off.

Walking back to my vehicle, I had no emotion one way or another, strangely enough. That was fine with me since I was on my way to belly dance with Kathleen. The gym that we rent our dance space at reopened for live classes today. How wonderful! Our classes will resume on April 28th, the two-week mark after my second vaccine; zoom will continue for students who cannot attend class. Yip!

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We have discussed class formats, drop-in pricing, class times, and how to move forward for the last couple of weeks. Our classes will resume with our core students for a while; then, we can figure out down the road when we will reopen our classes to the public—one step at a time. In the meantime, I am excited to go back to teaching & dancing without a mask. I’ve missed my students and dancing with them tremendously.

As things are opening, my once boring-ass long days and nights are becoming jam-packed. Business is busy, and I am back at my Saturday farmers market in Saratoga, NY. I am still trying to work out at least 5 times a week. My workouts feel rushed now because I am squeezing them in. Once I add in Wednesday night dance classes, things will be crazy busy. 

I’ve been super busy before the pandemic juggling my time; adding working out and writing will be new to the mix. I am laughing to myself, thinking about how many hours I was on my phone or watching tv, looking at stupid shit for hours, miserable…waiting and waiting for life to resume. Managing all of my activities plus working, cooking, and cleaning is such a wonderful and beautiful thing! Yay! 💐

This piece basically wrote itself while I was making spatzle batter all morning in the production kitchen. I haven’t told you something about me yet; I am blessed with spiritual and psychic gifts. It’s not something that comes up early on in a relationship, but today is the day for me to tell you a little bit about my gifts.

Twenty-one years ago, on the Wednesday before Easter Sunday, I had a very real, vivid dream, which turned out to be a visit from my grandmother, Nana. This visit is what opened up the veil to the other side for me.

My father, Russ, was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease or ALS in January that year, and they gave him 3-5 years to live. The decline of my father happened at a startling rate. When he called me on my birthday in February, I knew that it would be the last happy birthday I would ever hear from him again. When I hung up the phone, I laid on my stomach on our bed crying, and at that moment, I felt Sam kick for the first time; I was due at the end of August.

The last time I saw Nana in person was at my wedding. After she passed away, I regretted not spending more time with her that day. She visited me in a dream just before I woke up in the morning. She looked younger, had great color in her cheeks and lips from the pink Revlon lipstick and blush she used to wear.

Everything was done telepathically, I realized later on. I was so surprised to see her; the first thing I did was apologize for not spending more time with her at my wedding. She waved her hand like stop it. Then I told her I was so worried about my pregnancy since I had a miscarriage the year before and my father’s condition.

She told me not to worry about Sam; everything would be fine. The next thing she told me was like a riddle, “I’ll be back for your father when the sun returns to the father.” That is what I remembered her saying. I couldn’t figure it out, but it was such a crystal clear message. Then she leaned close to my face, and I could actually smell her Jean Nate perfume, and I woke up.

I was like, “OMG, what just happened?” I told Marty immediately what happened, and I shared the visit with a couple of friends. We were leaving for NJ the next morning to spend Easter with my parents.

When we arrived in NJ, my dad was relieved that we were there. I got to spend the afternoon with him sitting on their deck. From that point on, things started to tank fast. By Good Friday, he was having problems breathing if he tried to lay down or back.

Holy Saturday was stressful and scary for us. Finally, we called the rescue squad that evening, and they wheeled my father out in a stair chair because he couldn’t lay down. I didn’t know he would never be coming home again.

By the next day, Easter Sunday, we knew he wasn’t going to make it. It was a shock and surreal. After I went to the hospital to say good-bye to my father, I went home with Noah, who was only 4 years old. He was very close to my dad, and he didn’t know what was happening.

Easter night, I bathed Noah and put him to bed. I sat on the couch and jumped up and said, “OMG, it’s Easter! The day the Son returns to the Father!” The day Christ has risen. I immediately knew what Nana’s words meant. We didn’t have cell phones at the time, so I was on my own with this information. I cried and cried. I thanked Nana for the heads up and felt a little better that she would be there waiting for my father.

At 10:01 pm, I said an Our Father and knew my father took his last breath. When Marty and my mother got home about an hour later, I asked them his death time, and they said 10:01 pm. In the morning, I had to tell Noah what happened to Pop-pop; it was beyond heartbreaking, the hardest thing I ever had to tell someone.

My spiritual gifts exploded over the next few days. I could feel my father near. He would tell me things about the people at his wake that I never met before. I knew answers to questions that weren’t even asked yet. My father was telling me jokes, and I would share them with Marty and my mother to make all of us laugh, even though it didn’t seem appropriate.

On the morning of my dad’s funeral, I was standing in the back of the church behind his casket with my family. My knees were knocking and I felt sick to my stomach. I realized I felt the same way when he and I were standing in the back of the church at my wedding before I walked down the aisle. Next, I heard him whisper to me, “It’s showtime.” Those were the same words he said at my wedding. Holy shit!

When I realized all of the new psychic/spiritual gifts I had, I also knew needed to get a handle on them. I started getting messages all the time and not just from my father. I needed a radio control tower for all of them flying in. I started reading up on psychic abilities.

When Sam was two, I joined a meditation group. I also became a reiki master and practiced shamanism. I found out the messages I got were coming from people who recently crossed over or were stuck in the middle world; they didn’t know they were dead. My psychic abilities didn’t include information like lucky lottery numbers, darn it.

I used all of my abilities for good, helping many people move on from the middle world. I did reiki, chakra clearing, and aura balancing. I never charged anyone money for using my gifts, it didn’t feel right, but I did accept an occasional bottle of wine as a barter. It all came naturally to me. I was good at it; I didn’t realize how “powerful” I was until a psychic person came up to me and told me. Geez!

When we started our business four years ago, I had to close the veil to the other side. I was constantly being interrupted by people trying to get their messages through to someone who could hear them. I needed to focus on my business and family. I needed a break.

I still did reiki and other energy work, but nothing with the other side. Earlier this week, I got a message from Mema that I wrote about on Sunday. I’ve been hearing songs on Pandora for the last three days from my friend Eileen who passed away one year ago today. This morning, I dreamt about my father and a recently deceased cousin who passed in December. It was a dream, not a visit, but it made me remember Nana’s visit on the Wednesday before Easter, just like today.

I know that these gifts bless me; however, I am still not ready to get back into moving people from one world to another. I welcome the messages that I am receiving and know that my loved ones are not here in body form, but their energy never leaves us.

A funny thing happened on the way to the…kitchen. Well, not really funny, but funny in my mind. Right after I hit the publish button on my power outage post, I headed into the kitchen when I got a text from our friend Martin, the chef who lives across the street.

“Want to join us for those Chinese stuffed peppers Marty likes?” In a flash, I forgot all about the chicken a l’orange I would attempt to prep for the second time day. “Of course,” I texted back immediately. LOL

Martin has introduced us to so many new dishes over the last year and a half, dishes I’ve seen on restaurant menus for years. I wouldn’t consider myself a picky eater but cautious when I am not sure. Ok, that wrong; I am very frugal when it comes to spending money; I would hate to order something and not like it, or worse, not even eat it.

I wanted to share with you the dish he made last night. We both love Chinese food and miss being able to order anything we want since we went gluten-free 11 years ago. The dish Martin made is a dim sum classic Cantonese Stuffed Peppers.

I’ve gone out for dim sum and don’t recall these peppers. I only recall all the different types of dumplings and steamed pork buns. Dim sum is Cantonese, a way to offer customers many choices to eat on a wheeled cart around the restaurant. You pick what you want and however much you want.

Dim sum started in Asian tea houses offering the guests small bites to have during tea service. Tea is still important at dim sum restaurants flip-flopping the origin.

The Chinese stuffed peppers are peppers stuffed with two different fillings; pork or shrimp. Traditionally it is served with a brown fermented bean sauce or just a soy-based brown sauce.

Martin made pork stuffed peppers with a brown sauce that was so shiny it was like a glaze. The filling tasted like dumpling filling, which we love and miss. Chinese stuffed peppers can be made with various peppers such as a bell, long spicy, or cherry.

Both times we’ve had it, Martin used long banana peppers, which can have a bit of spiciness. Last nights weren’t as spicy as the last time he made them, maybe because the peppers were in season over the summer? 🤔

I looked up a bunch of recipes for the stuffed peppers and planned to make them myself. As usual, all the recipes are different. Usually, we get to watch him prepare dinner for us, but last night the peppers were already in the oven. Martin already prepared the brown sauce for the peppers as well. None of the recipes I found called for the use of an oven since they don’t use ovens in China, but I think that is how I will do mine. Frying in a pan is just an invitation for the filling to fall out.

I am grateful not only for my friendship with Martin, but I’ve learned so much from him. He loves how I watch him and try to figure out what’s coming next and our faces when we try something for the first time.

He prepared the best bite of food of 2019; it was a parsnip puree. Such a simple thing that I never had before; I just assumed it tasted like a carrot. Wow, was I wrong? Parsnip puree is now a staple on the menu of my favorite dishes to make and eat.

Oysters Rockafeller was another dish that I didn’t expect to love so much. Now I really want to learn to make them myself. What’s been holding me back is that I am intimated shucking the oysters. This summer, I will suck it up, get myself the right kind of knife to use, and practice opening them in the outdoor kitchen. I don’t know if I am brave enough to try one raw, but they sound delicious with a mignonette sauce. So maybe…

Now I am off to the kitchen to make my chicken a l’orange, the prepping stage flew by me again today, I guess I just wasn’t meant to prep this dish ahead. I’ll let you know how it turns out. 🤞🏽

I left earlier than usual for belly dance practice this morning. I needed to hit two grocery stores before dance. I’ve been going shopping after dance which doesn’t work because I come out of the gym as hungry as a grizzly bear. Shopping on an empty stomach is never a smart thing for your pocketbook. 

It was super windy driving home; I quickly put the groceries away to make my lunch. It was all I thought about on my ride home. I went to the bathroom before I started lunch, and the power went out. Dammit! 

My husband Marty is an EMT volunteer on our local rescue squad and has scanners and pagers everywhere. One minute after the power went out; a tone went out to the fire department. There was a tree on fire lying on a wire. 

Power goes out like this often, so I knew it wouldn’t be out too long. I still didn’t want to risk opening the refrigerator to get out things for lunch. I nibbled on a couple of things and decided to sit down and write. 

Being on the journey and not the destination, I accepted what the situation was. This is a big change for me. Last year I would have mise en placed my dinner ingredients in the dark. I sat on the couch instead, still hungry, though.

Marty was out, and both of the dogs’ Otto & Klaus, dashed outside through the doggy door as soon as the power went out. It must make them feel safer since they do the same thing during every power outage. I had the couch to myself, and the house was quiet except for the howling wind. 

Now, this is where Marty and I had a difference of options when he came home. I was ok and content with the situation; he said that I was crabby when he came in because I was hungry. 😂 🦀 

The power came back on about 20 minutes later, but it was too late in the day, and I didn’t feel like making what I planned; it would have to wait until tomorrow. Instead, we reheated some leftover pasta fagioli from dinner last night. 

Yes, I probably was a little crabby because I was hungry, but at least I didn’t do anything stupid like cutting my fingers off prepping in the dark. I consider that progress. Now I am off to prep; I am making a more modern version of an old-school food favorite using chicken instead of duck…Chicken a l’Orange.

We’ve been going full steam ahead for the last few weeks with our spätzle business. On Sundays, our scheduled day off, we’ve either had to make product or have tried to get projects done around the house.

Last night before bed, I looked at the forecast and knew how I wanted to spend my day. I figured since it was going to be raw and rainy, I would relax and have a quiet day. 

We made one of our favorite diner breakfasts this morning, corned beef hash, fried eggs, and buttered toast. The most important part of this meal was that it would be leisurely with a hot cup of coffee. 

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Our mornings always make me feel like I am on a hamster wheel, starting with an alarm clock yanking me out of sleep. I guzzle a glass of water, pour a cup of coffee that I don’t drink until it’s lukewarm. 

I’m like a pinball bouncing around the house, getting ready for everything needed to be done before we start production. I gobble down either yogurt or a banana with peanut butter while feeding the dogs, emptying the dishwasher, and folding laundry.

After breakfast today, I started to menu plan for the week and make my grocery list for tomorrow. I included Easter into the menu planning, which took up more time than usual. 

My dinner menus for the week: Shrimp with Cornbread Waffle Grits, Mongolian Beef with Rice Noodles, Chicken a l’orange with Wild Rice & Green Beans, and Cheese Pizza with salad on Good Friday. We have always eaten pizza on Good Friday’s since I was a kid. 

For Easter, I decided on Pork Saltimbocca, Spätzle or Fresh Pasta with Asparagus & Frizzled Proscuitto, Lemon Tiramisu for dessert. I would also be making two traditional items, deviled eggs, and pizzagaina. I’ll post about mini pizzagaina next week while I am making it. 

I looked up my recipes and jotted down ingredients I needed, then remembered I had to get out my mini tart pans for the pizzagaina, which by the way, is an Italian Easter savory pie. 

I knew exactly where they would be and discovered only one of them; the others were missing. I immediately slipped into WTF mode and started looking everywhere. I used them the last time on Thanksgiving a couple of years ago but always put them back in my baking drawer. 

I gave up looking in the kitchen and went downstairs to the basement. By now, I was swearing up a storm and getting so aggravated with myself. I looked in this old metal kitchen pantry, the only other place I thought they could be. I asked St. Anthony to help me find them when I looked in the copy cat red apple cookie jar that belonged to my Mema. 

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I have one cookie jar on the top shelf in my kitchen, but Mema’s sister, Aunt Bertha, gave me hers as well. I took it in case the other one ever broke. There was some random shit in the cookie jar, including an old case for my contact lenses. Why that was in there, I have no idea. 

At the bottom of the cookie jar was a dollar bill that looked old. It was weird that a dollar would be in there, I looked at it, and the year on the bill was 1935, the year Mema was married. I can assure you I’ve looked in the jar before, especially since I’ve moved with it twice and have carefully wrapped both jars up. 

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When I was trying to decide what to make for Easter dinner, I thought of all the Easter dinners we had a Mema’s house when I was little. She always made ham with pineapples and cherries pinned to the outside of the ham with cloves. I decided not to make ham since it would only be Marty, me, and maybe Noah, who isn’t the biggest fan of baked ham. 

Of course, I started to cry because I immediately knew it was her. While it was such a pleasant surprise, it had me balling like a baby; the child in me missed her so much. I spent some time talking to her and thanking her for the special Easter message. My father passed away on Easter Sunday; that holiday is the hardest one for me to celebrate. 

I never did find mini tart shells. I have other ones that I can use if need be. Being open and always acknowledging messages from Heaven is so important. It baffles me how they do it; it must be tough work and a huge payoff when we recognize the messages. Thank you Mema, I love and miss you so much. 

I had to deliver one of our wholesale customers at North Meadow Farm in Manchester, VT.  I needed to stop to pick up a few bananas, wine, and half & half afterward. I decided to stop at the shopping plaza where the new T.J. Maxx store opened; I need some athletic shorts for the gym. Side note…I don’t wear shorts except in the production kitchen.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Manchester, VT is a very charming town that had its hay day back in the late 80s when high-end outlet stores opened. Manchester was “the” place to go for tourists as well as famous people. I waited on many of them while I worked at the Polo Ralph Lauren Store.

Manchester, Vt, was one of the first high-end outlet towns in the country. When I worked at Polo, you couldn’t find a parking place if you worked in the afternoon. If you opened, there was a line at the door waiting for the store to open. The stores made millions of dollars, and the town was bustling. Events were planned around back-to-school and Black Friday shoppers. Everyone made money, stores, restaurants, inns, and hotels.

As more and more outlets opened outside of all major cities, people didn’t have to travel to small towns to shop anymore. The outlet stores weren’t a destination anymore, and the sales numbers dropped dramatically. Store after store closed their doors because they couldn’t afford the high rent prices. Of course, this hurts all the other businesses in town as well.

The stores that remain are designer stores with prices that are simply out of reach for people who live here full time. Tourists and second homeowners are what keeps them open. However, the town has reinvented itself and is now a popular wedding destination for many city people.

Shopping in our area is extremely limited. We moved here to get away from the New York and New Jersey area; the last thing we want to do is “Jersey up Vermont.” However, having a store that real working people can afford would be nice.

Choices for me to buy clothing are Good Will, Walmart, and Label Shopper in Bennington. I shop very occasionally at the Gap in Manchester if I am desperate. I feel bad for younger people; in Manchester, most stores’ clothing is…well frumpy or too dressy.

When I pulled into the Price Chopper Supermarket shopping plaza, I couldn’t believe how crowded the parking lot was. I had to go around, trolling for a spot. I snuck around to the side of the building where I used to park back in the busy days. My secret spot was open. Ha!

Now I know T.J. Maxx isn’t a big deal if you have one where you live, but this is a game-changer for the working class and teens. There was a line to get in; only 100 people are allowed in the stores at once; a friendly employee was keeping track, letting people in when others went out.

I only had to wait a few minutes because an army of people came out. It was really great to see a store thrive again. It was all local people shopping. Women smiling behind their masks from ear to ear with their shopping carts filled with candles, throw blankets, food items, and clothing. Young adults all had items in their hands to purchase. For them, they could afford to buy items or a few things for under $25.00.

I was looking for Adidas shorts for the gym. I am a fucking cheapskate and won’t spend a lot of money on something that I will only wear for working out. I found the $35 shorts I saw last week in the mall for $12.99. Yes! I also got a cute black tank top for 9 bucks.

I wondered what the line at the cash wrap was going to be like; I was hoping it wasn’t going to be bad. They had all the registers open, so I waiting in line for less than 5 minutes. I left with a smile on my face. There was a long ass line waiting as I went into the supermarket.

As I walked to my vehicle, I looked at all the parking lot license plates; most of them were all Vermont cars. I could tell the few practical, dirty cars with NY plates belonged to employees from across the border since NY is only a few miles away. As I drove out of town, I looked at the outlet stores’ parking lots; all the new, shiny clean cars were from NY, NJ, CT, and MA.

It seems like the shopping I experienced today was a win-win situation; visitors shop at places they don’t have in their area; while we can shop in a store that is not special to them. I can’t wait to try on my shorts and tank…both black, of course. What a shocker. LOL.

We had to head to the Albany, NY, area early this morning. We were meeting our Pennsylvania distributor, Alpine Wurst and Meat House at a large Shop-rite supermarket. They deliver their sausages to Shop-rite, and we hand off our spatzle to their delivery person. It works out conveniently for all of us.

After our delivery, we went shopping at Restaurant Depot, aka Foods R Us. This is the Toys R Us of the restaurant world. The first time we walked into Restaurant Depot 4 years ago, we were in shock. It is Sam’s Club or BJ’s size, but they only sell things that restaurants use.

We got our free membership for the business when we were doing an Octoberfest event. We were going to be hot food vendors. We’ve both cooked for crowds before and knew exactly what we needed. It was a little overwhelming; we were in there for close to 3 hours to get everything we needed.

When we visit Restaurant Depot, we purchase supplies for the business and some items for ourselves. When we arrived, the place was packed! I mean, we haven’t seen it this busy for a long time. We guessed that more and more food businesses are re-opening.

So we don’t get off track; we have a list that we try to stick to unless there are bargains that we just can’t live without. Today I took photos because I wanted to share our shopping trip with you guys today. I didn’t even take photos of half the aisles.

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I saw the store through different eyes, trying to show you all the things that blew our minds the first time we went. I tried to capture the sheer size of the place; it’s huge. The refrigerated section is gigantic with an entire row of different cheeses, another aisle with just deli meat, bacon, and fancy charcuterie. The dairy aisle has anything you would need, and the produce section…whole shit, it is gigantic! There are meats and seafood as well. They sell kosher and halal meats and other items.

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All of the quantities are commercial size and priced well. We also purchase our cleaning solutions and detergent for the business and rubber gloves, green scrubby pads, tablecloths, sanitizer tablets, and the list goes on and on.

So who shops at Restaurant Depot? Small businesses do. Larger restaurants and chain restaurants get their food delivered directly to them. Small businesses can’t meet the minimum amount every week, so they have to purchase things themselves.

Many ethnic restaurants shop at Restaurant Depot, so you will find things you would never see in regular supermarkets. Goat, salted, dried cod, and other animal parts from nose to tail.

Restaurants that don’t cook anything from scratch are in heaven. Anything that you have ever seen on the menu in a restaurant, bar, snack bar, bowling alley, ball-game is available. Large boxes of candy, drinks, chips, you name it, they have it.

Last year right before Covid hit, we took our chef friend Martin to Restaurant Depot. Martin was fascinated and confused. He’s been a chef for more than 40 years and couldn’t believe what he saw in the freezer section. “Why would they have this? It’s so easy to make. Why do they have that? You can make it for much less money? We were hysterical watching him in bewilderment.

We shopped quickly since we were both staving and breezed right through the check out with our U-boat. They don’t have shopping carts at Restaurant Depot. It’s impressive how people can whirl their U-boats around loaded to the gills.

It was great to see the place buzzing with action again. People from every walk of life and ethnicity were shopping. They were moving quickly, dodging the forklifts in the aisles with determined looks on their faces. They were there to get what they needed for their businesses and make some money again. Thank goodness!

I know in past lives I’ve must have been a cook. I can imagine myself working as a hired chuckwagon cook for the cowboys back in the 1800s. I can almost smell the coffee brewing, biscuits baking in a dutch over, onions and potatoes frying, and grilling up juicy sizzling steaks.

I can also see myself as a cook in a primitive time, working with other cooks preparing meals for my village. I am sweaty and can see children running around, kicking up dust from the dry dirt. We are anticipating what the men would bring back from the hunt.

I love cooking outside. We opened up our summer kitchen on Sunday, and I used it yesterday. I cook outside any day the weather is decent. Last summer, we extended our deck with a lower level creating an outdoor commercial kitchen.

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We have our dining table and bar cart on the upper deck, plus a ceramic smoker, a long prep table, and a sink we haven’t installed yet.

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Summer kitchens in our country date back to the revolutionary war. Typically they were attached to a large home as a smaller structure. The large family homes were timber-framed, but the summer kitchens were made of stone. The stone structure was to protect the main house in case of a fire.

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These summer kitchens were built and used for various reasons. The obvious reason is to keep the heat and smells from cooking out of the home, especially in the warmer months. Another reason was to keep the servants or slaves separated outside of the family’s home.

The kitchen had a large stove and a fireplace where prep work, cooking, baking, and canning were done. However, the food was stored inside of the house or root cellar.

Summer kitchens were still used until about 1930, making way for new stoves and ovens that could be used without building a fire. Outdoor kitchens became storage sheds; however, they remained popular in the mid-west during the summer for a long time. They are a fantastic feature to an older home on the real estate market today.

Backyard cookouts began in the 1950s, and America was cooking outside with their shiny brand new grills. Men were the ones that typically did the grilling and barbecuing while the women prepped everything for him, made all the side dishes, set the picnic table, cleaned up, and did the dishes. The guy stood around drinking a beer while the wife ran around like a fucking idiot.

I don’t understand why men were given and entrusted with the cookout’s food in the first place. They didn’t cook a damn thing indoors; how would they know when the food was done? Is that why they burned it? They didn’t want to kill their family from food poisoning?

I remember the cookouts I went to as a kid; the hotdogs and hamburgers were always pitch black, and the bbq chicken was burned beyond recognition. I usually chose a hotdog because I could peel the black skin off of it. The burgers were incinerated hockey pucks. I was always grateful for the delicious sides like potato salad, watermelon, macaroni salad, and beans.

Today you can find absolutely gorgeous outdoor kitchens with well-decorated entertaining space, outdoor fireplaces, flat-screen TVs, and fire pits. Cooking, grilling, and barbecuing have come a long way. People have taught themselves how to cook, bbq and grill from watching cooking shows and Youtube videos. That’s how I learned.

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I consider our outdoor kitchen a summer kitchen. It lets me do what I love to do, cook while enjoying the outdoors. I am a total summer girl through and through and don’t want to waste a moment of the warm weather here in Vermont.

Last night, I made my first salad outside with music playing while the sun shining on me, sipping a gin and tonic. I made a watermelon, tomato, and feta cheese salad with a lime dressing.

I will be writing this watermelon salad recipe soon. I am indecisive as to how I want to cut the red onions in the recipe. I’ve been using onion crescents but don’t like the mouth feel or the way they look in the salad. We made this salad in our cooking class last year, and everyone loved it.

Tonight I used the kitchen area on the lower deck. I made jalapeño popper stuffed cheeseburgers, and Marty made the fries. I’ve been using a recipe for the burger I found online last year; it’s ok, but I want to improve upon it. I’ll be sharing this recipe as well as soon as I write it. There is a slew of recipes for the watermelon salad and the burger online, but I want to create my own.

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The daytime highs next week will only be in the 40s, but living on the journey and not the destination, I am not paying attention to forecasts like this anymore; I live in the now and enjoy the nice weather while I have it.

When we moved into our home 16 years ago, we found some old glass apple cider jugs in the root cellar. Aside from being something cool to find, they make great piggy banks or, in my case, a vacation fund. 

We’ve been using this jug for our change for as long as I can remember. It helped out a lot when we needed to save money for things when our boys were younger…ski passes, class trip money, etc.

Since the guys are now grown and have jobs, the jug has become Marty and my vacation fund. Namely, a trip to Paris someday. 

I know, of course, some loose change won’t be enough to pay for the trip, but it can pay for our meals, wine, and possibly spending money.

We booked our first trip together in 25 years last February. We finally had the time and money that we saved for a long time. We were so exhausted from the business that we were going to an all-inclusive resort in Playa del Carmen with top-shelf booze and gluten-free friendly to relax. 

Then Covid-19 hit. I was sure last March things would be fine and our trip the last week of April would still happen. Well, we all know it didn’t. 

We booked through an Expedia-type booking agent, and there were no refunds. We didn’t book the just-in-case option; what could happen?

When the trip was canceled, I was sick to my stomach more than disappointed that all of our hard-earned money was gone. Maybe 2 or 3 grand isn’t a lot to some people, but it was a small fortune for us. 😭

Marty tried calling the booking agent every day to see if we could get a refund but kept getting a message that we couldn’t speak to someone until 48 hours before our scheduled trip. The whole world was canceling their trips. 

Finally, Marty got through to someone, and they refunded our resort money entirely, but we had to speak with United Airlines to find out about airfare money. 

United Airlines gave us full credit to be booked by February 2022. We honestly try to pay it forward, volunteer, donate as much as possible, and try to be good people; I felt like we got back a little from the universe with this good news.  

We won’t travel until the pandemic is under control. We have to book the flights by February 2022 but don’t have to use them by then…so we still have time.

Will we go to Paris? Not if Europe isn’t over Covid. A tropical resort? Probably not. We may use the $1,000 in airline credit to go somewhere right here in our country. 

So my loose change jug shattered a month ago when I was putting change in it. It made a mess, and I had to be careful not to get glass shards in my fingers when separating the coins. It sucked and took forever to separate the coins.

Since then I’ve been looking for a new piggy bank and looked on our bar, the huge glass bottle of Jim Beam would be perfect, and is almost empty. 

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Yeah, we have a serious bar complete with a real bar refrigerator and a below zero-degree tequila shot dispenser. We don’t fool around when it comes to cocktails. LOL, The bar fridge we purchased second hand for a song and a dance. It ended up coming into our house when we figured out it wouldn’t fit in our production kitchen. 

I still have to roll all the change; I won’t give Coinstar money, which would be lazy. I will not be cashing the coins in for paper money; it’s way too easy to spend that way. I’ll keep the rolls of coins in our safe until the right time comes. At the end of the day, the jug was almost full anyway. This mishap forced me to get rolling sooner than later and polish off that bottle of Jim Beam! 😜

Yesterday, at my farmers market, I was relieved to see my customer Richard after my three-month hiatus. He was doing so much better than the last time I saw him when I worried I would never see him again. I met Richard two summers ago. He suffered a stroke that disrupted his digestive tract, and his wife Kathy was having trouble finding things he could eat.

I was still able to cook up samples of our spätzle sautéed in butter at the market and gave one to Richard. While he was tasting his sample, I gave him and his wife our “spätzle spiel” and told them all about it.

He liked our spätzle, so his wife bought him a package to try at home. Richard became a regular customer since our spätzle was one of the only things his digestive system could tolerate. The first two ingredients in our spätzle are milk and eggs, which make up 50%, giving him some protein that filled him up, plus he loved it. This is the stuff that makes our business feel so worthwhile. 

I got to know Richard pretty well, but the funny thing was, I didn’t know his first name. There comes the point in a relationship with a customer when it’s too late to ask their name; this was one of those times. He shared with me new things he was able to do again while recovering from his stroke each week, and I didn’t know his name. Come on, Julz! Ugh.

Last summer, I finally got up the courage to ask him his name and admit I never asked before. He said, “a lot of people used to know my name.” Next, he told me that he wrote a book called Love letters from Mount Rushmore. He told me he was more proud of his book than his 50-year professional acting career.

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So there I was, sweating my ass off on this hot summer day, my sunglasses fogging up from my mask, amazed by what he just told me. His wife joined us; she told me he was in the middle of his second book when he had his stroke. You could tell right away that Richard was upset by this and said, “I’ll finish it when my brain heals.”

I went home and looked up his book; sure enough, there it was, right on Amazon. The book tells of his parent’s love story and the love letters he found in an old trunk in the attic. His father was one of the sculptors working on Mount Rushmore and missed his wife deeply, home in Rochester, NY.

Next, I looked up Richard’s biography and figured out what he meant when he said everyone used to know his name. He was a professional actor that appeared in hundreds of commercials and tv shows that I remembered as a kid. There was even a YouTube video with many clips of his work. He acted with all the big Hollywood stars, but his favorite role was playing a General Hospital villain. Guess what? I knew who his character was, Bill Watson, since I used to watch General Hospital. 

Whenever I visit my mother at the nursing home she lives at, I look at the other residents and wonder who they may have been when they were younger. Sadly, you can’t ever really find out since most have dementia. 

When you see Richard, he is a frail old gentleman struggling to recover from his stroke. Some people may only see him as just that, but behind that frail older man, he IS fascinating and talented, not was.

The next week when I saw him at the farmers market, I said to him, “ Ha, now I know who you are! You were Bill Watson, and I remember you! You are a Hollywood star!” Do you know what he said? “That’s nothing compared to you.” I didn’t know what he meant. “You are a superstar because you make the only thing I can eat .” Well shit…I started crying, and we hugged each other, even during a pandemic.