Best Friends

Is there anything so fragile and so strong as friendship? I have seen people who are dear friends lose their bond, their connection, over a few ill-judged words. But I have also seen friendships survive great illness and tragedy.

Over the weekend, my daughter invited her best friend on a family trip to the beach. We drove the girls to the house, where we all shared a room and two tiny, hard beds. 

There was no access to TV all weekend. The girls had one single iPod they would have to share, as well as their dolls. Other than that, they had sand and stones as entertainment devices.

And - they were beautiful together. My husband gave them wheelbarrow rides (the hit of the weekeend) and dug them a hole at the beach. We watched as a wheelbarrow became a roller coaster and a hole in the sand turned into a castle with secret passages and huge throne rooms. 

The girls did kid stuff we adults simply couldn't understand - they insisted, for example, on draping all the available clothes over their blankets on the bed to sleep. I can't imagine having a ton of sweatshirts over me at night, but they seemed to enjoy it pretty well.

And why did they have to wear matching hats and glasses as they played that one iPod together? We may never know.

All of those experiences - swimming in ice-cold water in a rockpool, going to the local carnival and eating real cotton candy "on a stick!" and hot dogs, watching the tiny town's memorial Day parade - those shared experiences are the slim, glowing threads weaving together to form the basis of a lifelong friendship.

And whether it will be strong enough to last for years and years - no one can answer that question.

But the odds look good.

Mother's Day

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the US, and I was treated to a lovely spa day by my considerate family.  After a long morning of sleeping-in, I was whisked by limo to hours of massages, facials, pedicures...

Of course, that day actually occurred in some strange, alternate universe. 

Instead, my day began at 7, when I got up early to clean the house for the in-laws, who were coming over for brunch. I also had to cook that brunch; good thing I bought the ingredients the day before in between takes at the dance studio. 

(It was Dance Picture day on Saturday, complete with costume changes and make up on 8 year old's face; we're talking mascara here. All I can say is: SHUDDER)

I really don't mind about the cooking and the cleaning; would take that over standing in a two hour line to eat a meal at a crowded restaurant any day. Plus, when I serve the meal at home, we get to linger over our mimosas as long as we want without an annoyed waiter hovering and clearing his throat in a "We really need that table NOW" way.

No, the true fun began when I had to get 8 year old kid (who had to be changed into costumes and make up the day before, remember) into suitable church clothes. She was singing in the choir - in fact, she had a solo of six words long - so she had to look presentable.

Let me just share a quick secret with you all: she could go to church in cut-offs and a hole cut into a tablecloth as a poncho, and I wouldn't care. Heck, she could wear that dance costume from the pictures. My feeling is: I got my family to church relatively clean, what more do you want?

But no, "certain other people" (husband) don't agree. So I had to bully and chivvy kid into skirt - I know, the horror - and shirt that didn't have a T in front of it. 

After church, the day went well. The waffles turned out crispy and delicious. The mimosas flowed. the bacon disappeared in 30 seconds... all was right with the world. 

I even got to sneak upstairs for a ten minute nap at one point. Winning!

The true festivities, however, began at eight o'clock at night. That was when my daughter remembered she needed to bring in a book about the planets, with many planetty facts, to school on Monday. Yes, the classic "I just recalled my homework that I had all weekend to do" move which makes all parents want to curl up in a fetal position.

EXCELLENT gift!

There are no libraries or bookstores open at 8 PM on Sunday in our town.

Therefore, Mother's Day ended for me by writing a book on planets, complete with pictures, and printing it out. Did you know that Pluto was no longer a planet? You want to know why? Because its kids drove it to a gaseous death, that's why.

Finally got kid into bed and settled down to Mad Men with my husband. I admit I was eyeing up the Mimosa leftovers. Was just about to pour, when my daughter's bedroom door opened - she had a nightmare and I had to go and lie down with her and put her to sleep, again. I blame the waffles.

So, Mother's Day for me (and, I suspect for many others) was truly a MOTHER'S day. I was a mom in every sense of the word. 

All day long.

In A Perfect World...

courtesy imiorganizer.com

... I would be very efficient at filing things like receipts. I hate receipts.

... all my photos and news clippings* would be organized and popped into fancy albums with decorative borders. Scrapbooks, I guess they are called. Yes, I would be a scrapbooker.

... the gradual but merciless takeover of my kitchen cabinets by fast food toys, glitter, sidewalk chalk, and Barbie clothes would never have occurred.

... my hair would act more like hair and less like straggly seaweed.

... that one bite** of shrimp pasta that I just couldn't resist last night as I stowed the leftovers in Tupperware would not have gone straight to my waistline.

... my kid wouldn't beg to join the soccer team, only to have a meltdown when the soccer season actually is upon us.

... I would read more Dostoyevsky and less David Wang. Wait, no - that's not true. I'd keep the Wang.

... my freezer wouldn't be the kind you actually still have to defrost. With pans of boiling water and stuff. It's retro!

Good times, good times.
image courtesy alwaysorderdessert.com

... my husband and I would have the same sleeping temp preferences, not glacial (mine) versus tropical (his.) I'm menopausal, deal with it.

... my friends and I would hold our weekly coffee meetings each week, instead of once a year.

... I would actually SEND the Easter card to my nephew after signing, addressing, and stamping it, instead of filing it for next year, since it is May already.

... I would watch more MacNeil/Lehrer and less Fringe. Wait - that's not true either. I'd keep the Fringe.







*by "news clippings" I mean the one article published about me as a writer

**by "one bite" I mean several very large mouthfuls. Okay, maybe a small plate's worth.

A Birthday Party

Last year, around this date, I was having a good day. I wrote a few blog posts, got my chapter finished, cleaned the house, worked out - productive city. 

Image courtesy of Fresh Wallpapers

At that point my husband suggested that we all go out to dinner. Filled with the beaming pride of one who had accomplished everything on her list, I agreed.

We went to a pasta restaurant and ordered salads. The waiter poured the wine we had brought into glasses. He lifted his in a toast, and here is what he said:

"Happy Birthday - to ME"

I had forgotten. His Birthday. I had been so blindsided with errands and minutia that I let it all take over the real world or what should be really important. 

Yes, I am a thorough dork.

This year, I wasn't about to let that happen. The thing is, with the new football schedule, Superbowl now falls right on or around his birthday. So I have to get ready for the annual S' Bowl party and then prepare for the big man's big day. (That's what happened last year... yeah, that's the ticket....)

We bought the wireless speaker that he wanted for his phone and wrapped it up. I made his favorite dinner, and a lava brownie cake. The man likes his chocolate.

Our daughter got into it and created a birthday video for Daddy, featuring a Springsteen song and everyone, including her American girl dolls and stuffed animals, holding up Happy Birthday signs. It was her Where is Matt? moment.

Daddy got home and ate hugely. He blew out the candle on his cake and opened his gift. I am certain his favorite part was Baby Girl's video, though.

Guess what? None of the To-Do items on my list got done. And that was just as it should be.

Hello! I'm Allie!

I'm part of The Reintroduce Myself blogfest, so today I'm posting a short blog about me and my little corner of the world.

At Fresh Pot (of TEA, people) I like to feature online creativity. I've had jewelry-makers, photographers, and artists on, showcasing their work and inspirations. Of course, I also invite writers on  and review books, both traditionally published and Indie.

I intersperse all the creative deliciousness of my guests with blogs about being a mom (like the fact that my kid nearly missed the bus this morning because she couldn't decide which M&M Lipsmacker to use). 

I've been known to post a recipe or two, like this one for my uncles famous carrot soup. Plus, if you have been looking for how to make Fuller's Walnut Cake, search no further. I've got your back.

Today I'm also celebrating 100,000 hits, so grab a beverage and join the party! 

I'm delighted to be in the blogfest with some of my favorite bloggers, including Krista McLaughlin, Hart Johnson, and Stephen Swartz. There are loads of other cool-looking blogs at the Linky Links, found at the bottom of this page. Best believe I'll be checking them out. After all, how can I resist a blog called One Magic Bean Buyer?

Hello to the browsers and new readers!

Fruitify My Life

Each year, after the holidays, I reach a point where my body says: ENOUGH. Enough of the wine, the heavy desserts, the appetizers made with buttery pastry. Enough Christmas cookies. I even reach the point where (gasp) I'm a bit sick of chocolate.

I'm at that point now, and I'm fully ready to embrace fruit. Right now, a juicy orange really sounds delicious to me. Or a wonderful pear.

Or those frozen dark cherries that defrost so wonderfully in the microwave... At the risk of sounding really strange, when I found that Costco carried those things in megabags, maybe I cried. Or did Gangam Style, or something. In any case, they make me happy.

Bring on the melons, the Clementines, and apples! I just re-embraced Fuji apples after years of Galas; can't believe I forgot how flavorful they are.

I'm down for greens too, and I mean salads that are NOT laden down with dollops of dressing and a bag of cheese. Last night I had a simple salad made with crisp romaine drizzled with a tad of olive oil, and it was delicious.

In this mode, I always go overboard and buy something a bit too adventurous - kale, or parsnips. I love both, but am I really going to prepare and roast parsnips? No. As for the kale, supposedly it makes a great smoothie... Maybe I'll go back to that aisle and get some. and some beets while I'm at it.

At this point, my body is gasping for fresh air and exercise, after weeks of hunkering over wrapping paper and leg of lamb. I'm all about carrot juice, not eggnog. Bring on the green tea, not the champagne. Obviously, my system just wants a detox.

It all sounds a bit scary and dreadful, but honestly that fruit tastes delicious. The Clementines are like a fresh burst of orange on my tongue, and my husband and I have eaten most of the Fuji apples that I bought - oh - three days ago.

Carrots! How could I forget carrots? And I mean real ones, not the machine-lathed substitutes. They seem to take ages to peel, but the flavor in soups is unforgettable. And of course I'm not above buying the baby carrots; just maybe I ate a whole bag while I was editing the other night.

Yup, it's time for color and contrast in my diet. We'll just see how long this phase lasts.

Seasonal Stuff

A week ago I brought out my Big Sipper mug and started using it for my morning, lunchtime, afternoon, and evening cups of tea. I love this mug because it is one Big Ass Mug, meaning it holds lots of tea in it so I can keep slurping away. 

I also love it because it looks so seasonal, with it's candy cane handle and cheery red color. In fact, the mug has made me long for seasonal stuff. I want to smell cinnamon and spices. I want peppermint and roast turkey. I'd like snow on the windowsills and a fire in the hearth. I want skiing, long walks with hot chocolate at the end of them, shopping in New Hope, PA in those tiny little gifty boutiques, receiving fat letters in the post and sending huge packages to those who live overseas.

I know that in a few weeks I'll be tired of rolling out cookie dough for hours, so long that my back goes into strike mode. I'll be sick of the mall crowds and the search for that One Toy that everybody wants to get for their kid, including those Modern Scrooge Viruses: grownups who go and buy up the wanted toys and sell them on eBay for premium prices. Shame on them!

(I'm talking to you, Mr. Suit ahead of me in line with ten identical Monster High dolls in your shopping cart. I am So Onto You.)

OK, you guys are cool. Carry on.

I'll be beyond sick of the song "All I Want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth." I'll be tired of wrapping after my tenth paper cut. I'll be sick of cards after writing out my one hundredth Have a Wonderful Holiday. Seasonal Overload - it's coming. It always does.

At the end of it all, that Day will arrive. Kid is 8, so she's still into the whole Schmebang - the cookies, the milk, the stocking, the gifts. She'll wake up and come into our room (she always has to wake us up first, I don't know why) and we'll hear her feet pound down the stairs. There'll be a pause, a moment of "Oh! My! Goodness!" and the feet will pound back up the stairs. 

At that point, Seasonal Overload will somehow return to Seasonal Magic again. We'll eat Pizza Freets, our traditional breakfast, made by Poppy at the deep fryer. I'll have a humungo plate of cookies out, and of course the Big Sipper will be filled with tea. Kid's uncle will come over to watch her unwrap gifts. We'll have roast chicken and pasta (hey, we're Italian) for dinner.

Still in PJ's. Nothing beats that - NOTHING.

I'll enjoy every single second because as Kid hurtles inevitably towards the age of 9, 10, and teen years, the season will change. The gifts will become far smaller and much more expensive (phone, laptop, clothing store gift cards.) They'll be less fun to buy and wrap. I'm dreadfully afraid those pounding feet going up and down the stairs might just disappear. 

As Kid turns into Teen my husband and I might be the ones waking her skinny buns up.

And so I'll do my best to love every little moment, even the Mr. Suit guy with the ten Monster High dolls. Yup, even him.

Power and Revolution

Power is a very important thing, a concept that I only fully realized when we didn't have any. We live in the center of New Jersey, right in the path of Hurricane Sandy and the recent nor'easter storm, so we got hit twice.

The first time was kind of fun, as it always is, for the first day. My husband had to stay home from work, since they had no power there either. He did work during the day on his iPhone, which we recharged on our car. Outside, the rain fell and the wind whirled, giving us a secure feeling. As night fell, I lit a try filled with candles and we started a fire. We played Uno (our daughter won) and I read books out loud to her. There was a certain solidarity, a family feeling of togetherness that we hadn't had in a long time.

Perhaps the power stole it away.

The next day wasn't so fun. The well stopped working, and we had to flush the toilet with water from the tub. That makes you confront nature and survival - fast. There were no showers to be had, of course, nor could I wash dishes. I believe I became pretty cranky that day, born of fright as I saw the water supply dwindle. 

Still, we read more books and played more Uno (kid won again, which made her very happy.)

On the third day, we had had it. We loaded up the car with empty water bottles, dirty dishes, dirty clothes, and our own dirty selves. We drove to my brother-in-laws house where I had the longest, hottest shower of my life. I washed all the dishes. I did the laundry. We turned on the news. We charged up our electronics. 

Kid played iPod, and I checked in on my laptop. That family solidarity melted away. 

We went to a diner and had stuff that you can't eat without power - salad and baked potatoes and ice cream. I kept going to the bathroom just for the wonder of being able to watch a toilet flush, whenever you want it to. We stopped and got gas and more water and canned foods (I won't be able to eat soup or Spaghettios for a very, very long time.)

Arrived back home, and the fun returned, since we were all clean. We played more Uno. Read more books.

When the power came back on, the feeling was - indescribable. It was the middle of the night and I was adding wood to the fire to keep it burning. I was in a daze. What the hell is that? I remember thinking. Kid was ecstatic when she found out she could watch TV the next morning. I scrubbed the floors and toilets, and did about ten more loads of laundry.

And then the Nor'easter came - and it all happened again.

Now as I write this on my laptop, I can hear the power rushing through the house. The fridge is humming. So is the heat. And it is wonderful to have, and I feel desperately sorry for those folks who survived BOTH storms without power at all, but I wonder - with all the electricity and convenience, what have we traded for that? My kid won't want to sit and read books anymore. We won't play Uno together again, nor have carpet picnics. 

I'll be interested to watch the upcoming show, Revolution, about the permanent loss of power on Earth. I think there is a mental adjustment, a deep psychological change that occurs with a severe change in lifestyle, but whether it is good or bad, I have yet to decide for myself.

Community

I'm blogging with Parvati Tyler from Fighting Monkey Press over the weekend in honor of Community and Eid.

I'm one of those people who adores to be alone. When I have time to sit and write or read on my own, in silence, with a cup of tea by my side, I'm in heaven.

And yet, groups are important too. I have many important communities in my life. Most important in my life: my family. We straggle together and fight together, sometimes we weep and there are loads of laughs as well. My daughter, my husband, and my sister are first in my life, forever more.

I am supremely lucky to have a host of wonderful friends. I've known some of them since I was six. And with these friends, I must add some that I have never met. I correspond daily with writers and readers across the globe, and they are some of the most dear, caring people I know.

The funny thing is, communities can create themselves constantly. When I studied in Valencia, I ended up as part of a group of students. They were a lot of fun, and we hung out constantly. We helped each other out and explored that beautiful city.

It was the same when I stayed in Mexico. I immediately became part of a group of friends who traveled around Cuernavaca with me. We negotiated the Mexican bus system, museums, supermarkets, and it was spontaneous. It was community.

I think that there are groups yet to come into my life. Others will pass out of it. It's like I'm swimming through a series of bubbles, each filled with different communities of people. They greet me as I pass through, and for that one moment, although our names and skins are completely different, we are family.

PS - Don't forget to enter the huge giveaway run by Pavarti and Fighting Monkey Press. You can find the Rafflecopter code below on the right side of this blog. Just scroll to the bottom of the page.