The road less travelled

I took a walk through Rockefeller State Park Preserve Tuesday afternoon with my friend Penny. We wore sneakers or hiking shoes which made us short, but I felt very tall, like I was walking on the moon. It was a perfect fall day, I hate to say it but it was what is now referred to as a 9/11 day, the sky bluer than blue. But it was peaceful and we walked endlessly, looping around the small lake, and then in larger circuits and tangential paths, and we talked. We're old friends and the talk was easy, interrupted from time to time by our exclamations - a tiny chipmunk slowly, brazenly crosses our path, a crane spreads its wings on a rock in the pond. Occasionally we had to focus on our walking, picking our way over stretches of horse poop or very large acorns which too closely resembled horse poop. But mostly, the rhythms of our walking, our talking were effortless.

We did stop to examine a map of the park on a kiosk of sorts. Penny was making a serious effort to navigate. We joked about taking the road less travelled - both visible paths seemed devoid of all human life. I pretended to care which path we took, but in truth, I was heedless, I just wanted to walk and talk and never stop.

It was this carelessness that was in part so liberating. In real life I play the anxious, protective mom. That day I felt high with the deliciousness of not being in charge.

A recipe for happiness:

1. perfect weather


2. nature


3. walk in comfortable shoes on dirt paths by water


4. walk with your best friend, it's all about mirror neurons


5. talk while you walk and sometimes be quiet

I'm asking myself now - why do I almost never do this - why do I so rarely do something I find so pleasureable?

painting by Linda Sharpe

Raisin infused sherry

At the grave risk of too closely resembling a character in an Anita Brookner novel I've been drinking sherry in the late afternoons. I call it "raisin infused sherry" and it's quite irrestible. As an added benefit I get to snack on "sherry infused raisins" in between sips or get a headstart on dinner by tossing the enhanced raisins into a salad. This pre-dinner ritual just might be the new me. It's definitely un petit fig, a little island of happiness.

It was serendipity - all the best things are

Raisin infused sherry came into my life because of another obsession: making my grandma's noodle kugel recipe (updated, upscaled, she would approve) for every single Jewish holiday.

Recipe step #1:

Put raisins in a microsafe bowl or small saucepan and cover with sherry. Heat until liquid is steaming. Let cool while you prepare kugel mixture.

Now drain raisins and add them to kugel mixture OR, if it's not a Jewish holiday, skip the kugel part. Take reserved sherry to the sofa. If you have the energy put on music, merge with sofa and the paper or a magazine, but best is the Anthropologie catalog, and just be.

The complete kugel recipe: http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C01E4D9163FF931A2575AC0A9619C8B63

Reverie

I'm going to Paris in November to spend 10 days with my daughter who is living there this semester. The last time I was in Paris, I was 17, on a high school trip - let's just say it was a while ago.

A pensionne, narrow, gently winding stairs up several flights, my best friend and I share a room, big bed, massive armoire, breakfast delivered to us in bed each morning. He pours the hot milk, the coffee, from two pitchers simultaneously into bowls. We flirt with him. The croissants are always perfect, strawberry preserves in a silver dish, white cloth napkins. Then wandering through Montmartre I buy a painting and a record album, Francoise Hardy. We sewed all the clothes we took on this French club trip. Remarkably, we were taken for French girls. Later that day, an outdoor cafe with glasses of citron presse, basking in that compliment, the April sun, being 17.

Boulangerie potatoes

Tonight I made boulangerie potatoes with white beans and thyme, cream, leeks, butter. Salad with blue cheese and a shallot vinaigrette, warm french dinner rolls, wine, that's it. It rained all day.
Recipe courtesy of Mark Bittman via Tummy Treasure

blogging = happiness

I’m a website designer. Recently I received a call from a woman, well two women, friends, grandmothers as it turns out, who want to start a blog. They, of course, were inspired by the movie "Julie & Julia", googled, found me and we met (they were delightful, I didn't want to leave). Their idea - blogging about stuff to do with children on rainy and not rainy days. Projects, recipes, stories and so on.

So I came home and started reading everything I could about blogs, including blogs, and blogs about blogs and twittering about blogs and I couldn’t stop. I even read about why I couldn’t stop (my dopamine receptors wouldn’t let me), that too was in a blog somewhere, or at least a tweet, or maybe it was an RSS feed.

It all came to a glorious halt just a few minutes ago (and we’re talking about an orgy of sorts here, days of seeking and searching and scanning and bookmarking and signing up for everyone’s feed, everyone’s.) And then I came across this: 100 Ways to Live a Better Life.

Here’s the description:

You don’t like your life? Change it! Change your life for the better! Don’t have any clue on how to do it? Here’s a list of 100 ways ...

This blog, my blog (let’s say it’s for research purposes) is going to be about my attempt to try each of these 100 ways to live a better life. Yes, this is derivative. But I find it appealing, at least in my current dopamine infused euphoria.

I get to:

1. "self-improve”, while
2. blogging, and
3. all the while not being hard on myself for being unoriginal (way # 21: Be better, not perfect)

My plan:

Everyday for 100 days, wait, let’s make that many if not most days until I finish (Way # 10 is Travel far away from home – that will keep me away from my computer for at least a week, but more about that later) I will blog, working my way through this awe inspiring list, way by way.

A demain matin (harbinger of way #14: Learn a new language). See you in the matin.
Judith