Recliner Wars

I am the proud owner of a hand-held immersible mixer. After the Butternut squash fiasco, I determined that this is a kitchen gadget that I simply must have. Now I can make all the soup I want, without the threat of blender destruction, which I will make sure is replaced by Pina colada/Mud slide season. Add to list. We are experiencing incredibly beautiful weather, which belies the change of blog background. I removed the leaf background because we had a few gray days that seemed to indicate fall was over. My bad. We are in the throes of crisp and cold nights with sunny and warm(ish) days. I am preparing to head into the room that we have called the Studio, ever since we decided to make it the headquarters for Blue Line Farm and all the knitting accoutrements that go with it. In addition, we have also stored boxes and boxes of family photos that I simply couldn't unpack. In addition to the renovation issues (hanging pictures, removing pictures, etc.) it is boxes of family photos that are hard to see since my folks passed. It is five years, and it is time to unpack the boxes and put them away. And so, the studio will most like have many pictures on the wall, in addition to all the yarn and needles and farm implements that make us Blue Line Farm. I have the contractor garbage bags ready, and the weeding out in the studio will begin today, temperature permitting. My spinning wheel is down there, and I intend to make the space comfortable enough to allow me to go down and spend a good amount of time creating. I realize I am incredibly blessed to have this kind of space, and I hope to make it warm and inviting. Speaking of warm and inviting, we have been putting the finishing touches in our living room, and as of Monday, all the changes will be put in place. We have been chair shopping and I am totally amazed at the number of uncomfortable chairs out there for sale. Am I so totally picky in this, or is it a national dilemma in that people don't know what comfortable is? I KNOW! I am truly a chair/couch connisseur. I spend ALOT of time in the living room, and I want to sit in a truly comfortable chair. Not easy to find, you would be surprised to know. Some of them are so bad it is as if they had stacked cardboard and covered it with fabric. That bad. Now I realize that if you don't want people "loitering" in your waiting room, picking out furniture is strictly a visual activity. But if you intend to loiter in your living room, which I do, then comfort is the issue. First and formost, it must sink in as if you are being enveloped in softness. No hard corners, no stiff back. But enough support to make it a chair that you can sit in, as opposed to reclining, which I am trying to move out. I purchased the chair while Jerry is at work, and after speaking with him on the phone and being told "if you like it, I'll like it", I signed on the dotted line. I loved this chair and the ottoman I had selected with it. It was a great match and would be a perfect and comfortable replacement for our recliner, which is nearing the end of its visually acceptable life. In my eyes that is. Our recliner resembles a 747 parked in the living room. It was originally purchased for Jerry as a Father's Day gift, and its spot was in our office on Long Island, which held our desk and television. A perfect man-cave that demanded a huge recliner with heat and massage settings. The cadillac of recliners. Never did I intend to have to sit and look at this thing that dwarfs all other reasonable furniture and takes up a considerable amount of room when it is open to full extension. A bit like having a twin bed open in the corner for TV viewing. Design wise-no good. Gotta go. It is comfortable, but so is my bed. If you need to be THAT comfortable, you need to go to bed. Moving here in 2008, it was one of the few pieces of furniture that Jerry was concerned about. He wanted no damage. The thing is indestructable. We lay on it, we lay on it with dogs, food has been spilled and coffee dripped. Essentially, it is the pink elephant in the room. It is Jerry's chair, but he is charming and gracious in that he will invite you to sit and enjoy his recliner. I do. I will admit that the thing is fabulous. A blanket and the remote and I am set for the day. This is the problem. Even I can recognize that it is a fabulous sit. But visually? Never has Home and Garden featured a living room that housed a recliner. If you're looking for a certain "look", a recliner only fits in certain design moments - man caves and football games. I guess I would like that home and garden look, without having to look at this eyesore. The day after my solo furniture expedition, Jerry and I went back to the store for a chair/ottoman viewing prior to its delivery. Now I don't know if you can cancel furniture orders, but that was my first thought when Jerry sat down and said "I'm not giving up my recliner for THIS!" And so, the recliner wars have begun. My thoughts of a full living room redesign have gone out the window. I now have to re-think the furniture placement for a chair and ottoman that are probably larger than I would have chosen had I known the recliner was staying. And yet, I want this chair. I am confident that we can work this out. But I will say this, if Bailey is looking for a piece of furniture to jump up on, I'm sending him to the recliner. Maybe with all the extra "usage" it will eventually break down. One can only hope.

Whew!

We are recovering from our whirlwind weekend on Long Island, and as I've been saying for two days, "Thank God for that extra hour, or I don't think we could have pulled it off otherwise". I'm exhausted. And Jerry did all the driving. We were traveling to see our Grandson Michael Gerard Collins III be baptised, and it was great to have us all together and celebrating for such a wonderful occasion. Michael and Nicole threw a beautiful luncheon afterwards and we had a great time. Here are some random shots. What we noticed especially was the volume of traffic. I know I keep harping on this fact all the time, but we have become country bumpkins. Very rarely here in upstate New York do we find our selves as anything other than the first or second car at a traffic light. On Long Island, it is a prayer that you make it through the light before the timing changes and you find yourself sitting at the same intersection and waiting, again, hoping you will be making it through. It boggles my mind. I wonder sometimes how I coped, but then I remember I was stressed out when we moved, so there it is. I am living where I was meant to live. Unfortunately, the bulk of our family lives somewhere else, and sometimes that is a harsh reality. So, we are happy to visit and see everyone. We are blessed all over the map. And I can say without hesitation that no where in the world will you get a better manicure/pedicure than on Long Island. Hands down (and feet!) Bagels? No contest. Long Island. And French Vanilla from 7-11? We weren't on the island more than ten minutes that I made Jerry pull into 7-11 so I could get my fix. There is nothing like it. It makes me happy. And so, we spend a good portion of our time comparing notes. Upstate vs. downstate. Sometimes we win, sometimes we don't. I guess if it ever weighs heavily on one side, I'll worry about that then. In the meantime, I will compare.

Boo Humbug

I was not feeling the Halloween thing yesterday, at all. I had decorated and made plans, and was in the process of preparing a delicious butternut squash soup, when the whole day fell apart and destroyed my Halloween happiness. It started out as a lovely day. Jerry and I made church, which always makes me happy. We're not always "at em" by 10:00. We're "up", but "at em" is another story. We came home and had a bite to eat (because we had just visited the gluton-free store in Johnstown (http://www.checkitlocal.com/justhealth/index.htm)and I was having a lovely time. After that, we stepped outside and began to hang our folk art stars on the siding - the last touch we had been waiting for. It began to snow. That's right, the real thing. It actually carried on like this for quite a while - at least an hour. Nothing stuck to the ground, but our deck was holding on to what looked like hail. It was pretty, and the fact that it wasn't sticking was just an added bonus - I'm not quite ready for that. We stood outside and just enjoyed the cold snappy weather. Jerry was working harder than I was (as usual) but I was cheering him on and giving directions with my "eye". I have a perfect eye when it comes to balance and level. Just one of my many talents. If you asked me to look at something and level it, I will be quite dead on without too much of a challenge. But, again I digress. At that point, the thought of nice hot fresh butternut squash soup was exactly what we needed for dinner. With the prep for gluton-free cornbread ready, I went into the house to prepare our delicious dinner. All the chopping and peeling and preparation went on for about 45 minutes (butternut squash rank up there with rutabaga in the pain in the neck chopping department - but totally worth it). I added the other ingredients and simmered for 45 minutes. The house smelled delicious. Now, for years I have looked at the immersible blenders (the kind you hold in your hand and immerse into your soup or mashed potatoes or whatever) and thought "that's ridiculous - we have a blender". And so, to the blender I went for the last step in this fabulous soup. At this poin my mouth is watering, the house smells like heaven and I'm hungry. The triple threat of culinary success. I poured the entire contents of the dutch oven into the blender,(hot-wow was it hot), secured the rubber top carefully, checked all the various buttons for puree and let her rip. Fantastic! After a few seconds, I turned it off, lifted the top and tasted this wonderful soup - it was perfect! didn't need any further seasoning - maybe a few more seconds in the blender and we were ready! I again secured the rubber top, and hit Puree. This time, the top was not as secure as the first time, and turning it on made some soup spit out the side. I pushed down on the little plastic top that is in the center of the cover, (removable so you can add ingredients while blending). Well, as wel all know, heat expands. you didn't know? Well, it does. And the heat of the soup had expanded the rubber opening so the little plastic top went PLOP into the soup. As I turned off the blender I could hear the grinding sound of the little plastic top. And when I poured it back into the dutch oven so I could pull out the plastic top, I could see that it was in shards, and that many pieces were missing, and now were the last ingredient in my perfect soup. I thought of straining it, but shards are kind of a problem. You never eally know how small they are. And so, in one culinary moment my perfect soup, which still smelled pretty darn good, was in the sink and down the drain. Never have I been so disgusted or disappointed in the process of cooking. All that work wasted! I was not a happy camper. Jerry (in his infinite wisdom of leaving when I get this way) went to price chopper and picked up a new dinner. Cooked chicken, broccoli raab (sp?) and barbqued sweet potatoes. It was a feast. When it comes to the kitchen, Jerry is a miracle worker. Clearly, I am not. For now, I am using only convenience foods. When shards happen there you have a lawsuit to consider-a win-win situation. When shards happen when I AM THE COOK, all we have is a bad attitude. Sorry folks, dinner is ruined. Once again, I am thrilled to see that Cheerios give you 100% of your daily requirements. Dinner is served. By the way-these are the only trick-or treaters we had. When you live in the woods, there's not alot of kid traffic Happy Halloween everyone! Anyway!

Planning ahead

It's an orange kind of world out there. We're been snapping pictures here and there because the foliage is just beautiful. In my travels I managed to get a quick shot of the turkeys running from the woods on the right, across the road in front of my car, and into the woods on the left. The next logical picture was the cars on the right, belonging to the hunters in the woods. Now, it isn't turkey season, but the turkeys weren't taking any chances. It was kind of funny to see them hightailing it outta there. Never let it be said that turkeys aren't smart. Now hunters? That's another story. . . We spent the last weekend wallpapering, medicating and wallpaper. Not in that order. The up and down of the ladder action is what does me in. Crouching and bending and pasting and brushing, it's all outside of my comfort zone of forward recliner, reverse recliner. I am hurting. Jerry bounces back like nothing. He was my assistant and that required alot of here and there. I am not an easy taskmaster. Now that this room is done, my eyes are wandering around thinking. . . where else? I happen to be a big fan of wallpaper. Thankfully, I hear it is coming back into vogue-not that it ever went out in my world. My world is also showing lots of "holiday lights" going up on houses. This is, as you know, not acceptable to Allison. However, now that we've been here for a few winters, we are beginning to understand the rationale behind this early decorating trend. Cold. The desire to get the christmas lights up prior to the first snow is what necessitates putting the lights up by October 15th, because hereafter, it's a crapshoot. They called for light snow last Friday night. I don't know if that happened because Friday night for me was a wash. I retired on the early side. But Saturday morning was quite brisk and the frost was clear to the naked eye. When Daphne runs out on to the porch and turns around and runs back in, you know it is cold. She and I are more like soul mates than I care to admit. So, the big chore is done, and now we look forward to feathering the nest in the guest room. Hopefully, it will see alot of activity this winter. Skiing anyone? http://royalmountain.com/snowroyalhome.html

A Cold Tubby

It started out hot, but in my determination to at least vacuum today, because with three dogs, if you don't vacuum at least every other day (and that is slacking, believe me) I was doing this BEFORE the tubby so that I could do it right, which meant I was sweaty and dirty. Note to self: One cannot be a diva and a cleaning lady all at the same time. As a result, my tubby was tepid. I was determined not to waste the gallons of hot water that would be gone without use, as well as the lovely and fragrant bath salts I had liberally poured. The fact that we waste 80 gallons per minute, 24/7,out into the back nine was not factoring into the decision to climb into the tepid tubby. I was in there for a good 45 minutes, reading a wonderful book and soaking my tired and sore bones. Midway through the tub became cold. It was clearly cold, and my decision to stay was a result of the totality of the situation. I had a soda to sip and a book to read and I wasn't climbing out like some kind of wuss. It wasn't THAT cold (although it was cold enough-trust me) and I wasn't shivering, which I would have been had I climbed into the tub at the point I decided to stay. It was a gradual uncomfortable, which makes all the difference. I was (and am) reading the book Embracing Persephone, by Virginia Beane Rutter, which if you are familiar with your Greek myths, names the teenager who leaves her Mother Demeter and her Father Zeus, to marry Hades. Not a good scenario under any circumstance, but one I can certainly identify with. Having survived what we delicately call a "difficult teenager", (check out Webster's dictionary-delicate includes "No Picnic" in its definition - he must have had a teenager) I am happy and proud to say that we are now wonderfully and happily and thankfully, a close and healthy Mother and Daughter. We have survived each other's angst and anger and all that, and emerged as two individuals who enjoy each others company, champion each other every step of the way, and love each other unconditionally. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It wasn't always that way, and our journey included a lot of family therapy and a lot of mistakes on both ends. Our journey was loud and colorful, as fireworks always are. And if truth be told, our journey would probably sound very different depending on the teller. That is why this book is so profound for me. I am reading both sides, and understanding more fully the adolescent perspective. Good stuff. Which brings me back to the cold tubby situation. If you are not a fan of a tubby, you have not given it enough attention. Some people say that a tubby is like soaking in dirty water. Not so, it is soaking in water that reaches every nook and cranny, and fragrantly soaks the living daylights out of it. A quick shower rinse is all that is needed, and the bath salts and oils will have conditioned your skin from head to toe. It is a glorious luxury that I violently defend. It is also part of the tubby ritual to make sure that the world you emerge INTO is also lovely and fragrant, hence the vacuum situation. I don't like to step from the tub into a home that has not been vacuumed, straightened up, and aromatherapied. I guess I like to feel a bit like Cleopatra, emerging from the baths while the servant holds the towel and delivers a hot cup of tea. I was missing the servant today (he had to go to work), but the hot cup of tea was delicious. A cruel reality that I had to prepare it myself, but whatever. . . And so my morning is complete. I shall finish the book and be better prepared for female adolescent #2. I have had a nice long tubby to read and think and prepare. And I think I've learned a thing or two in the years between, but my trump card is this: We live far from town in the woods, and I own the car.

Thanks Teach.

Yesterday was a wonderful day where after months of saying "why don't we?" and weeks of planning and coordinating I finally met up with my former Jr. High school English teacher and Dance Club faculty advisor. We met halfway from her house to mine, in Sharon Springs New York. Catching up on our families and our lives, it was a wonderful and enjoyable visit with a good friend. We have kept in touch intermittently over the years and through mutual friends and acquaintenances have never been far from each other's hearts. This is a teacher who was an inspiration and a motivator. The kind of teacher who really challenged her students and also rewarded them with her respect. She really like her kids (or seemed to!) and that made the difference. So many teachers seem to have chosen the wrong field, not because they don't know their subject, but because they don't seem to really like kids. Interesting. . . But, here we are, many years later, and enjoying each others company and our shared memories of another time. We've both ended up serendipitously in the central part of New York, just a few miles from a lovely lunch and shopping trip through some pretty darn fantastic little shops. We got to catch up on the details of our lives, those that we were so proud of, and some that we ruefully could laugh at. It is so interesting to me that we all meet up eventually as "adults" and the years between us(which seem so great when we're young) melt away when we reach this point. If only you could know when you're suffering through Middle School (or Jr. High as we called it then) that maybe someday you and this teacher of yours may meet for a cup of coffee somewhere between here and there, and become friends and contemporaries. How many would believe it? Sometimes life hands you such a teacher, and it is a gift that keeps on giving. This lifeline of mine, who was so pivotol in my education and my love of poetry, dance, theatre and the arts, is still participating in all those things and proving to me that life really is the exciting journey that she told us about then. She is living it still, with all the same enthusiasm and inspiration. Thank you Susan. It was, all in all, a totally wonderful and special day for me. It's not often we get to thank those who were pivotal in our development, and continue to be that person for us. If you have the chance, you should take it. It's worth the trip.

Kane Mountain

Unlike today, Sunday was a glorious and sunny, crisp fall day. We decided to hike to the top of Kane Mountain and view the firetower. It is an elevation of 2200 feet-not a terribly difficult hike in the Adirondacks - others are much higher. But for me, this was Mt. Everest. I have not taken on this kind of physical activity in a long time. I have been trying to challenge myself each day, and this opportunity presented itself because a group from church had decided to go, and so, we joined them. Going in a group takes care of all the planning. Essentially, you just have to show up. We did, and off we went. The climb was on a well worn path, with bits of rocks and sloppy sections still wet with leaves from last week's rain. Easy enough. As we progressed it got a little bit choppy for me because I'm just not used to this. Jerry was right with me all the way, and with the help of him and my climbing rod I was steady. At one point I thought I could hear indians in the distance, but that turned out to be my heart beating-which I guess is a good thing. I just don't usually hear it beating so vividly. After taking a brief rest on a rock, we moved on. All it all, I would say it took us 1/2 hour to 45 min. to reach the top of the mountain. Maybe an hour? Anyway, when Jerry produced a candy apple from the backpack he had prepared, I was told that I could sell it for upwards of $25. There were enough buyers. But he had packed it for me, and it was probably the most delicious candy apple I've ever had. After taking a breather for a few moments and getting familiar with the surroundings, we decided to forge on to the top of the fire tower. We climbed to the top, me first, Jerry behind me. Normally, I am not a big fan of heights, but this tower was there for me as a challenge, and having come this far I was not leaving with that undone. With each level we'd stop on the landing and look out. It had wire on all open areas, so I felt safe there. The view got more and more beautiful as we progressed to the top. This was an amazing day. Looking out at the top of the fire tower I was so inspired at the landscape before and below me. I was grateful that we had made the hike, and so proud of myself. We spent a good amount of time at the top, just taking pictures, wishing we could share the view at that moment, and taking it all in. We took pictures of each other, and of all the views in all directions. Jerry's picture has mysteriously disappeared from our album. Nice Jerry. We saw them barbequeing at the bottom of the tower and headed down. We explored the Ranger's quarters which is an old wooden house with just essentials, a bedroom, a private area and a living room. At one time they had Rangers who stayed at the top of these mountains and scanned for fires. Lonely and beautiful. We had our lunch (delicious barbequed hot dogs and chips) and after spending a beautiful afternoon exploring the top of Kane Mountain, we headed home. At the bottom, we all split up and went our separate ways, even getting some beautiful scenery right next to the car. What a wonderful day. We are incredibly lucky and blessed to be living in this natural playground, and I'm so glad we got to get out there and play. Today, I'm still a little stiff, but it was well worth it. This is my pal who doesn't like to have his picture taken. Thanks Jerry, you were great.

wallpaper

I am only one person. The brilliant plan to redecorate the guest bedroom began when I spotted a beautiful wallpaper on decoratetoday.com. This is my favorite site to go to because you can peruse wallpaper books for hours without leaving your home. And you CAN do it for hours because although you may have something in your mind when you begin searching, the thousands of choices present themselves over and over with just a click of the mouse. Dangerous stuff. Since I have heard that wallpaper is coming back into vogue (and although I never quite gave up on it myself-I just love wallpaper) I made the choice to purchase the paper when I saw that it had gone on sale AFTER I picked it out. The good karma surrounding this circumstance was enough to propel my credit card information onto the order form. Now that the paper has arrived, and I have determined that I love it even more in person, I am ready to take on the wallpapering job. Here is where this brilliant plan has reached a glitch point. I look into the room that has an open futon, two end tables and a lateral file which holds our fax/copier,and I realize that I cannot do this alone. Me, the wallpaper queen, who spent a good part of the 80s and 90s wallpapering one bad apartment after another, transforming ugly and boring kitchens and bedrooms, leaving my mark behind me all over Long Island, is unable to tackle this 9.5 x 12 room. Eeeek! Things are bad. It's not that I cannot accomplish the wallpaper task-that is the easy part. But where do I put all of the room's contents while this is happening, and if I had a space to put it all, how would I move it all? I am overwhelmed and out of steam. Just thinking about it makes me tired. This is way more activity than I have participated in a long time. The wallpaper rolls stare at me woefully across the living room as I contemplate the possibilities. Jerry and I? Nah, he works all week and it's nice to enjoy our weekend together. This is a Monday through Friday project. Allison? Nope-she's swimming and barely fitting in her homework at night. Wallpapering a bedroom is not in her day. Any day. And so, here I sit. I walk down the hall sometimes and peek in to see if anything has changed. Bailey comes with me and slides under the bed while I'm thinking. He likes those sheltered places where he can get comfortable. Exploring this new underbed situation is right up his alley. When I turn back to the Living room, he follows me again. It is thundering again outside, so Bailey and I will be close all day. What a perfect day to wallpaper. Rainy and boring. If that room was clear I could have it done in a couple of hours. But alas, I am only one person.

Yes Sir

We had a lovely weekend visiting the area antique shops and craft fairs. The weather was in our favor and it was a glorious afternoon. Jerry had dropped his truck off at the dealership early Saturday, because he needed some work done on the engine. On our way home I dropped Jerry at the dealership and our plan was to meet at home immediately. Normally, I would stop here or there, but I was tired from the full day and anxious to get back. I chose a different route than Jerry took, because that is how we are. Just different. As I was tooling along and enjoying the scenery on Maple Avenue, I noticed one of Johnstown's finest tucked into the landscape about halfway up this two mile stretch of road. I didn't adjust anything cause I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, but as I passed by him I just peeked into my rearview mirror. When I saw him pull onto the roadway with full lights and tweets I knew it was for me. "Damn". I immediately pulled over on the nearest stretch of safe shoulder, and sat in my seat as I have been told is the best course of action under these circumstances. As the officer approached my vehicle I reached into my pocketbook and took out my wallet. "Can I see your license and registration please?" I was able to put my hands on my registration immediately because Jerry has placed it in a clearly marked envelope inside my console (thank you again Jerry). My license took a little more effort because I couldn't get it out of the window of my wallet (why do they make them this way? they KNOW we're all going to have to produce our license at some point in the wallet's life. MAKE THE WINDOW LARGER). The officer made a joke about that particular problem, I guess he sees it alot. Anyway, I produced the license finally and he asked me, nicely, if I knew why I had been stopped, and truthfully, I hadn't a clue. I was driving pretty slowly and had my seatbelt on, as I always do. Was a brake light out? That was the only thing I could think of. "No sir" I said, in totally clueless honesty. "Do you know what the speed limit is here?" he said. "No sir" I said, because well, No Sir. "I had you doing 42 in a 35 mile zone" he said. In total honesty I replied "truthfully I'm surprised I wasn't going faster because I usually pass through here at a pretty nice clip". Those were my exact words. When I told this to Jerry (after arriving home later than him and explaining my delay) he was pretty horrified. But the truth is having worked with alot of police officers, I was viewing this conversation as almost a social visit on the side of the road. I was completely comfortable with the officer, he seemed like a pretty nice guy, and I wasn't completely clear that I had done anything terrible. 7 miles over the limit? Okay. I concede. I actually considered myself pretty lucky because on a normal day, I wouldn't have been doing 42, I would have been doing 52, or more. It's a unpopulated road that is a shortcut between Main Street and Meco. The Plandome Road of Johnstown. A little winding, a little twisty, but pretty much safe at a 55 mph clip. I lucked out. With this in mind my conversation was a bit chipper and optimistic. After asking me about the stickers on my window (Port Washington PD, Nassau County Chief's association, etc.) I told him it was from Long Island, never mentioning my previous employment situation, again Jerry was horrified). He walked back to his car (still holding my license and registration)and my assumption was that I was going to get a ticket. When he came back to the car, he gave me back my stuff and said "I'm going to make this a warning. I have noted this stop in the computer, and you need to slow down OK?" "Yes sir" I said, thrilled at this windfall. I have never gotten a ticket, although I have on occasion had other similar social visits. I have been lucky. Usually for speeding (not alot, but definitely over the limit-I think the limits should be re-defined with reality in mind). I always stop at Stop Signs and never make really illegal moves intentionally. I have made some really stupid moves (i.e. the early morning social stop after driving down a closed road while bringing the boys to their boatyard job-that was bad). But I have always gotten just a warning, and have never mentioned my affiliation, former or otherwise. It just feels not right. So I tell the truth and hope for the best. So far, so good. But I'm staying off Maple Avenue for awhile. Just in case.

1St Full Day of Fall In Caroga Lake

Some Images of Fall, The pasture has really filled in, border trees changing fast The Road infront of our home, so far the Maple has really taken off.

The pond and a couple of Maples

This is the View that we have every day out our window at the computer desk

As you can see house is coming along and siding is very close to being finished

Fall is creeping up on us and the leaves turning way too fast for me. Everyday as I travel up and down our road I notice how things are changing fast. Every turn is a Picture that needs to be taken and framed.

Deer & Bear season have or will be starting here soon, hunters already in the woods, scouting or hunting the early bear season.. Reports are that a bear was sighted just down the road, no reports if he has been taken yet. I have seen many Does in the last few weeks ....Not a Buck yet.

Jen's Been Home taking care of the house , family . She is working on a new layout for the soon new living room furniture. Guest Bedroom Wallpaper has been ordered and soon she will be on that. Most weekend mornings we take it a little slower here and have our coffee out on the front porch. Just a great view but it's getting a little cool for that, I suspect that we have only a few weekends left before our Weekend coffees are not on the porch but around the pellet stove.

Pellet stove has been on, set at about 68 and it does turn it's self on over night.

Three tons of pellets delivered the other day and just waiting to be carried into the basement.

Any Young Family bucks looking to take a day or weekend trip up to help???? We will Feed Ya!

Ali Is in school, looking or thinking about colleges, we did visit one here in the Albany area and it seemed very nice.... More to look at. She is on the Johnstown H.S. Swim team and appears by reports from Jen that Ali is doing good. I have not been able to attend the meets as I am at work when they start and don't return until after they are over...Go Ali!

As I suspect you all know We are Grand Parents and already we miss seeing Payton and New born little Michael. Nicole , Mike Come be leaf Peepers and Bring those Grandchildren.

Walter, Brian & Jackie we miss you guys too.. Bring those mates along and lets go on a Hayride .

Apples are being picked, Pumpkins are flying out the door down at Rogers.

Til Next time Gang..........Jerry

Dear Anonymous. Where have you gone?

Go Fo-Jo!

Yesterday was a fantastic day. I was at Allison's first swim meet (Fonda-Johnstown against Glens Falls) and was so proud to see her tremendous improvement since last year and also her drive and commitment. My child swam the 500 freestyle. Understand that the pool is 25 yards. the 500 is 20 laps. 20 LAPS! I could do 20 laps if we spread it out over a few days. To see her swimming that kind of endurance challenge, under competitive circumstances, just blew me away. Immediately following the 500, she was leg four of a 200 relay, meaning each girl had to swim two laps. Two laps is OK, but doing it after swimming 20 laps is mind boggling to me. As you can see, I am quite proud. The reason I do not have photos is because I was acting in the capacity of an official timer. That's right, yours truly was pulled from the stands to help out because each lane needs a dedicated timer. They put the new volunteers (me) on the outside lanes, where the novice competitors generally land. This way no mistakes should be made in the center lanes where the faster girls are swimming, possibly with a close outcome. This turned out to be a really good plan, because I, as an official timekeeper, failed. At some point during the meet, I started to have a little bit of a low blood sugar. Not terribly low, just enough of a low to make me realize (after zoning out for a few moments) that I probably should grab some kind of snack and suspend my pump for a bit. Not a really big deal under nomal circumstances, just diabetes management as it happens every day. Except the zoning out I did occurred during a competition event. And when the official approached me and asked for the time for the girl in lane 6, my response was "There was no one in lane 6. Oh. Yes there was. Shit." In the process of enjoying my daughter's swimming finesse and the whole pool scene/excitement of competition, I completely zoned out and forgot that Lane 6 was my responsibility. I was just watching the event and taking it all in. Having a great time. Go Jen. My embarassment was palpable. But apparently, this happens all the time (according to the official who assured me it was OK, he had done it a number of times over the course of his 20 year career as a ref. I chose to believe him and not assume he was just being incredibly gracious.) I took a quick break (during an event in which I really didn't have anyone in Lane 6) and grabbed my glucose tabs, popped a few and headed back to the starting position for the next event. For the rest of the meet, I was the epitomy of efficiency and accuracy. I was the Michael Phelps of timekeeping. Focused, energized and dead-on. Too late for the girl in Lane 6, but I tried. Counting the laps, hitting start, stop and reset, recording the times and being "in the moment" is very difficult for me during a low blood sugar episode, but I managed to pull it off without further incident. I also think I may have secured my status as someone who won't be asked again to help officiate. This may work in my favor. Congratulations Allison. I am so proud of you! If anyone asks why the girl in Lane 6 had no recorded time, you can pretend you don't know me. I get it. :)

Who Am I?

Very often the simple act of swapping your lipstick color (or moving the furniture)is enough to satisfy that need for some kind of change. There are other times when nothing less than a complete "Makeover" will do. We are experiencing that time right now. We is a broad term, meaning me. I say we because apparently, according to my closet, I am a number of different people. Let me explain. I went to the mall yesterday. I say Mall meaning really just a group of stores. Mall means you need to get to Albany. The stores in Amsterdam were enough for my needs yesterday, because the plumber was scheduled to be here for a lengthy period of time. Rather than subject myself to the dangers of being told the water has been shut off (hence, no bathroom facilities), I just removed myself from the scene of construction and went browsing. Shopping by yourself is very different than shopping with anyone else. It allows you the time to be sidetracked without explanation, and to really put in the necessary time to decide what it is you want, change your mind, change your department and actually try things on, which is something I am guilty of. Eyeballing a garment and deciding that it will work. Most of the time it WILL fit when I bring it home, but flatter? That is another story. Anyway, with all this free time on my hands, (and never needing to use the facilities by the way-how ironic!), I shopped. And it was in the store that I finally asked myself the question "who am I?" According to my closet,I am a number of people. "Professional" has already been weeded out, I did that in 2008 when we officially "retired". Those power suits and uncomfortable shoes were on their way to Goodwill faster than you can say "Outta here". But the rest of it? I have accumulated a few items that do not define any particular style, and that is my confusion. Who (or what?) does my wardrobe reflect, and is it accurate? The truth is, I don't know. I don't know which pieces I should be adding because I'm not sure which pieces I want to hang on to. I have Artist Executive, Showtime Presenter, Committee member, Farmer, Aging Hippy (actually, just hippy; do hippies ever age? I don't think so, It's just a look that gains a wider waistband as the years progress) Although I recognize that all looks have worked for me at one time or another, I must recognize that I am at a crossroads. The real commitment in life comes not when you leave a job or take a hiatus, but when you actually release the wardrobe that went along with your previous position. It's a scary thing to decide that you no longer need an excess of "Showtime presenter" (reflecting my most recent position as Executive Director). How many evenings will I spend announcing the upcoming program and pointing out the emergency exits to a captive audience? Not too many I'm thinking. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I'm not sure. That is the dilemma: you're in a store trying to purchase some items that will move you into the upcoming season (which apparently is barreling down faster I expected - 48 degrees - WTF?)and you can't decide if what you're buying is actually what is needed by who you are, and who you are is becoming more and more difficult to define. For the first time in my life (and we're going back a ways here) the true answer is "nobody." And while that is a frightening thought, it is also very freeing. The meaning is this: I am responsible to myself, for myself, without commitment or responsibility. No one is expecting me at the job this morning, no one is looking for any type of fulfillment from me. Obviously, the family resides outside definition. I am forever a Mother and a Wife (God willing and if the creek don't rise). But for right now, my employment/unemployment is not defined by need, but by desire. That has never happened to me, in my entire life. Wow. What a heady feeling. If I want to do absolutely nothing today, tomorrow, and for more than the usual two-week vacation from regular employment I am free to do so. Damn! Although I haven't a clue what I would LIKE to do at this moment, and certainly not a clue about what I would wear doing that unknown thing; it is a moment of truth for me. What do I really WANT to do? ???????? I gotta get back to you on that one. I am a writer, by choice and by need. That doesn't require a wardrobe. In the spirit of change I have chopped all my hair off (not all really, I left a couple of inches). This is working for me. The real color will reveal itself in another haircut. It is an easy enough fix if I don't like it. Fortunately for me, it grows back fast. Always the diplomat, I purchased a pair of skinny jeans (the legs are skinny, the size is not) and a big oversized "boyfriend" shirt. A chiffon blouse with a bow in front in a multi-colored water-bleed type of print, with gray slacks. A big bulky full-size sweater to wear with leggings and boots. And flannel pajamas. I think I have covered all possible needs in the next few months. I can be whoever I want to be, and have the right outfit to go with it. Because really, what is the first question every woman asks when invited to a function. "What should I wear?" I am at that age where you do give thought to what your final "outfit" will be. When Jerry bought his last suit, his comment that "you can bury me in this one, unless you go with the uniform", horrified me. And yet, I find myself pondering that thought every now and again. I'm not so defeatist as to answer it, or leave any type of directives. That makes it too close. But I will say this, my tap shoes are still where I leave them all the time, in the back of my car. Just in case you're looking for them. :)

Furniture Wars

I am the proud owner of seven pairs of reading glasses, all of slightly different strengths. I collected them all this morning for a good cleaning and scratch assessment, and was surprised when I kept finding more here and there. Pocketbook, next to the computer, next to the tester/calendar area, coffee table, kitchen table, counter, bedside, dresser and yes, in the bathroom (that is quite possibly the most IMPORTANT place to leave glasses because once you've gotten "comfortable" nothing is more frustrating than taking out the book (we have John's 4-ply bathroom reader-a trivia selection of 1000 or so pages-fabulous for short stays) and finding you've forgotten your glasses. If you're like me, you can't see a darn thing without them. I can read signs on the thruway (good thing) without optical aids, but put it 18 inches or closer to me and I am blind as a bat. I cannot even eat my dinner comfortably without my glasses, because it is frightening to me to not be able to recognize detail on my food. I all appears to be a blurry palette of colors-no detail at all. Not appetizing when you think that possibly those sesame seeds are not what they appear to be? I am neurotic about food to begin with-adding sight restrictions is just more than I can work with. Today I woke up with renewed energy and inspiration. We spent our rainy and blustery Sunday window shopping for new living room furniture. As our current furniture is a mish mosh of what we liked, what we had and what we settled for, and keeping in mind that most of it is coming to the end of its shelf-life (either by choice or by design), we stepped into the world of living room furniture at Huck Finn's Warehouse and Old Brick Warehouse. In the process of finding these two meccas of furniture (according to their effective television marketing campaigns) we also stumbled upon an odd assortment of Architectural castoffs that are quite interesting (this is how I get into trouble-seeing a single piece that catches my eye and then decorating an entire room around that). Anyway, we browsed through there and then moved on to our original mission of living room window shopping. We are going to do this right. We are not actually BUYING any of this furniture until we finish the floor and all the construction projects in the living room. Only then will I bring in the new stuff. I think this is how most people do this sort of thing, although it is quite new to me. I generally do it backwards which is how I end up with damaged and destroyed stuff that I really liked when we started the project, but not so much when the project is finished. I think if we try it this way we will see how that works out for the long term of things. I may possibly be simply a fickle furniture person, whose tastes changed too often for real commitment in design. We'll see. I'm already worried about what I'll do with the furniture if I get "sick of it" and it isn't even picked out yet! You see what I mean? Anyway, what we ended up with in both our minds when we finished scoping out two full warehouses full of lovely furniture is a U-Shaped sectional-in red. Now I know this sounds incredibly daring to those who know me because modern style furniture has never been my trend. I lean more towards mismatched (what design experts call eclectic-really just unmatched and weird) pieces that are interesting in and of themselves, but make our living room sometimes feel a little TOO warm and inviting-more like a comfortable dorm room than a designed living room for adults. I may be too hard on myself, because sometimes I truly love what our house looks like, and this makes me worry about bringing in a large and modern designed couch that will not allow for much change. Not allow for change? How will I handle this? It's kind of scary. Any time in my life when things were not going well (no need to detail here-just a point I'm trying to make) I always worked it out by changing around furniture. It is a family secret that we all share. We've Rowlands have been known to swap furniture inter-state. We can't help ourselves. It is the worlds best way to get rid of that feeling of bored or trapped-simply move around the furniture. The place gets a thorough cleaning (who KNEW what could live under the sofa?) and also takes on a feeling of newness, just by switching out pieces and rearranging their location. It should be prescribed by physicians for January depression because nothing gets you out of your doldrums more than tearing apart a room and having a new room at the end of the day. It also can challenge your children into really staying on their toes. I'm reminded of Walter's story of coming home late at night after a night out with his buddies, trying to pass quietly through what he thought was the old furniture arrangement, and flipping over the back of the sofa in its new position-therefore eliminating his quiet entrance and busting him in his late night activities. Sorry Walter, but this story had to be shared simply because of its merits. Had I not changed around the furniture, I would not have known my son was doing things he shouldn't be doing late at night. Anyway, my point here (in case you've lost it) is that purchasing a large sectional with essentially one way of arrangement is very scary to me. And yet, I am intrigued. If I didn't have to constantly re-arrange furniture in an attempt to fix maybe what was wrong in the first place-too much furniture, not the right furniture, maybe I would have constructive time for other activities? It's a thought. I will have to ponder this a while longer, and also make sure we get that floor in soon. I may end up with another eclectic piece just tring to fix THAT problem. In the meantime, I will try our current sofa in a different place. Watch out kids.

Happy 16th Birthday Baby Girl

It is 12:30 PM and so far today I have gotten dressed and had breakfast. Lunch is still a ways off because breakfast was kind of late. These are my activities so far today. This does not bode well for a productive or inventive lifestyle. When I pick up Allison from swim practice at 5:30 PM, I will grab a few husks of corn and make corn chowder for dinner. This is my big plan for today. I have a few projects on the sticks, but not feeling inspired to pick them up today. There are quite a few books on the shelves that are begging for a reader, but even that requires some semblence of concentration and I'm not feeling that either. My baby girl is turning 16 tomorrow. Could this be the reason for my malaise? It very well could be. As far back as I can remember, the only thing that was most important to me was that I wanted to be a Mother and raise a family. This was first; in my life, in my dreams and in my reality. Now that all my children have been basically "raised" and do not necessarily need my undivided and constant attention and concern, and if we strive for raising healthy and self-sufficient members of the human race, I should be happy that they are all self-sufficient and healthy and productive and creative. Allison still has a few years before she is completely ready to fly the coop, and I hope that it is later rather than sooner, but essentially she needs my gentle guidance, not the strong hands and discipline that was needed when she was young. And really, strong hands for Allison meant "please don't do that". She usually heard me the first time and understood the request. Actually, pretty darn easy as far as youngsters go. But I shall not jinx her next few years under our guidance and leave it at that. She is a good kid. They all are, which makes me miss them all the more when they go out on their own, or even just goes from 7 AM to 5:30 Pm without calling me. It's what we want for them, and what makes it so bittersweet when it happens. And if I do not want to become a "helicopter Mom", which is the new term for a hovering constant presence in your child's life, than it is important for me to back off and let her do some things without necessarily examining every detail to distraction. We have raised a smart cookie and need to let her be smart and make those good choices. In my perfect world that will be the outcome. I said I wouldn't hover, I didn't say I wouldn't worry. That I can do full time and with a vengeance. I still worry about all of them, and I will until the day I take my last breath, which will probably be while giving some kind of instruction or blessing. Let them go. Easier said then done. Happy 16th Birthday sweetie pie. I am in awe every time I look into your beautiful eyes and see into your magic and kind soul. You are my sunshine. Love Mom. P.S. Wear a jacket. I'm sharing a few photos from our weekend, Charlie Daniels concert, and Allison on her first day of school. So shoot me, I still take first day of school pictures. :)

And then there were two

We have seen the departure of Dan and Jennie on Monday night, Walter and Jackie on tuesday, Jerry left for work at 4 AM this morning and Allison is heading off to her first day of school shortly. That leaves only Carrie and I until midmorning sometime. It was a happy full house this weekend and I truthfully hate to see everyone go. It was a beautiful summer that we enjoyed, and I'm sorry its over. There was a rogue moquito in our room last night, and he had a festival on my left ankle. I guess he wanted to get his ya ya's out as well. We all try to fit as much summer into that last weekend as we can, and it is never enough time. but I do know that around here fall lands pretty early. Lucky for me I like fall. This year should be a little bit different in that I truly have NOTHING TO DO. The past years I was either working part time at the costume shop or full time at the theatre. This year, I am doing all time at home. I think physically it is the best choice, but emotionally it will be a real trial for me. What to do? That is the question? Carrie suggested making a list of things I want to get done. as I said to her, "that doesn't sound like a whole lotta fun". Making lists is not going to work for me. I have tried it, and it just becomes another chore. I want to add "fun" to that list, but I'm not sure which way to go about that. I'm thinking on it. Allison and I went to Rotterdam Mall yesterday to finish up her back to school purchses. I was pleasantly surprised in that it was not terribly crowded. We got our goodies and had quite a lovely time together. It is bittersweet as this is only the second to last time we'll do this back to school ritual that has been going on for all time. I remember starting with Jackie and it has not let up since. These last trips with Allison are the wind down of my back to school rituals. Anyway, so here we are. September back to school holds more of a clean slate for me than new Years. It always was a fresh start with whatever was going on. This year I'd like to see me get organized. Somewhat. For the most part I have become to enjoy my laid back attitude about organization Until I can't find something. then it becomes the worst trait humanly possible. Well here's the ride. Good Luck Allison, off we go. . . . . . .

HONEY

Honey is being harvest this week. If you are interested in honey, please place your order online by leaving a comment, or call us at 518.835.6674. We are happy to deliver honey up and down the eastern seaboard because hey, that's what we do. :)

As I look out our living room window I am watching my son torch the campfire and I wonder to myself "why do they have to do everything to the point of being unsafe?" I guess that is boys. I'm happy to say we are all having a wonderful time and I am hoping that we don't have to test the skills of the Caroga Lake Fire Department. Prayers are welcome. We had quite a drama this morning at breakfast. Having decided at 10:30 to eat breakfast out so that we would not have to clean up or deal with the mess, we landed at Caroga lake's newest diner "1 Chef and a Waitress". We placed our order a few minutes after 11 AM. By 11:55 we still had not been served our breakfast, and were on our third round of coffee. We had already asked our waitress "did you forget us?" and were assured, no no, it's coming. Jerry went up to the counter and asked them "where is our breakfast?" and I was feeling a little uncomfortable about that because I was raised to believe that making waves was rude, and so I would have sat there until Wednesday waiting for breakfast, but Jerry has a much better view of the world and expects at the very least decent and timely service. I have learned that he is right, but I am still always a little uncomfortable when we question anyone. Why is this you ask? I think it has to do with Irish guilt, which is very often the reason for alot of things that make no sense, but yet again I digress. I was shocked when the Owner (who wasn't cooking by the way-which meant who WAS cooking?) said "this isn't MacDonald's-1 Chef and a waitress-that's the name of the business!" Essentially she was saying "take it or leave it." I was shocked because I knew that this was not going to sit well with Jerry, who was now starving and also expected the better answer from an owner to a customer such as "we're very sorry. please have another cup of coffee on the house" or something like that. But her attitude is what sunk her ship. And so, after tipping the waitress (because he is a stand-up guy) we all (Walter and Jackie (walter's Jackie-not Our jackie) and I) followed Jerry out to the cars and down the road a piece to the Coffee Shop where we ordered and were served a very delicious breakfast in 20 minutes time. We should have gone there first. So, note to self: If I am hungry and wish to be served in a timely and professional manner, stay far the hell away from 1 Chef and a Waitress (which should have been named 1 Chef, a Bitch and a Waitress-Truth in Advertising.) They need a new Chef. Splitting up after breakfast, W&J went on to a hike up to Nine Corner Lake, which is a hike-in access only lake outside of Caroga, about 9 tenths of a mile hike. We knew we were not up to that task and worked our way home. We're not waiting for the arrival of my cousin Carrie and planning a nice dinner around the campfire. Allison is feeling a little "under the weather" today and trying to sleep off a nasty cold before school starts on Wednesday. We were all at the Fonda Fair last night and enjoyed The Charlie Daniels Band from the third row. It is turning out to be a great send-off to a lovely summer. If I wasn't such a fan of season changes, I'd say I was sorry to see summer go. But I am looking forward to fall and the changes that brings. S'mores anyone? Happy Labor Day.

Go Directly to Jail

I feel sort of like a criminal must feel just before committing the crime, which explains why my life of crime was limited to lifting costume earrings from Newberry's on the miracle mile when I was in second grade. I'm assuming the statute of limitations is up, although I actually did return them to the manager (with a little prodding from Mom and Dad) and that scared me enough to never again consider any type of pilfering. But I digress. I decided this morning after a week of not really eating a substantial breakfast that I was hungry enough to disregard the warnigns of "not really gluton-free" and go ahead with the Frosted Flakes program. Because the flakes are corn, I initially assumed that they were safe, and if you can have Frosted Flakes in your world, you can face anything. However, I was told in dire terms by the guy at the gluton-free store, and truthfully after disregarding Katie's pronouncement, that Frosted Flakes do in fact contain trace amounts of gluton and therefore do not qualify as gluton-free, and therefore should not be eaten. Screw that. I have been a good soldier going on two weeks now, and I have a doctors appointment in approximately 45 minutes, and I am going in with the largest chip on my shoulder that may need surgery to remove. I want food. I want good food. I want to wake up in the morning and have an english muffin with blueberry preserves drizzled on top. I want to look forward to a meal and not dread the though of going to eat somewhere because I am never sure if the only option for me will be salad. I was never a big fan of salad. I ate it because it was doing the right thing, and I do try to do the right thing most of the time. However, when doing the right thing means that you will never have another good drive-by meal (OK, Lobster notwithstanding-but how often can we pull THAT treat together?) you start to get a little radical and criminal behavior does begin to become an option. In true denial fashion and somewhat like Butterfly McQueen in Gone with the Wind, I did all the chores I was supposed to get done before committing this nutritional crime. Putting off the act itself gave me a little time to really think through the ramifications of what I was about to do. I Cleared up the kitchen from last night's stalkers (not me! I never know who it is, but they don't throw away the wrappers), emptied the dishwasher, loaded the diswasher, watered and fed all the dogs, got dressed, made up and hair done, and of course made the bed. Only then did I truly contemplate the radical action I was about to partake, and throwing caution to the wind I poured myself a moderate size bowl of sugar frosted flakes. A double whammy in the world of nutrition based upon an approved diabetic diet and a gluton free program of eating. Just to make this a diamond in the world of breakfast, I added a sliced peach fresh from Rogers Orchard around the corner. If you know anything about peaches, you know the last week of August peaches from Rogers are incomparable. And so, the breakfast decadence behind me, I will now march into my doctors office and see what HE has to say about my moments of indiscretion. And then I guess in addition to the co-pay, I'll find out exactly how much that breakfast choice will cost me in discomfort. Whatever happens know this-it was delicious!