Done! And on its way.

By the time you read this, the pictured quilt will have been pressed and stuffed very tightly into a carry-on compression bag. The cat will have been dethroned, too, and I will be in an airplane.

I am feeling strangely trepidatious for this trip. For one, it's been quite awhile since I've flown (2006), and even longer since I've flown alone (2000). I keep having this weird feeling that I've forgotten how to fly. Of course, that's ridiculous. Flying isn't something you forget how to do, any more than you could forget how to hear or see or breathe.

Also, this is longest I'll be away from Patrick since the crazy nearly-month-long trip to Greece I took the first year we were together. That was with my friend Alexis, the same Alexis who's now earning her grad degree. Best friends since Freshman year, Greece was something we'd always talked about doing together. In the fall of 2006, we both found ourselves between jobs, and it was Alexis who was making the extra push for it to happen: "Before you're married, Kristina, we need to go to Greece."

So we went. It was a month of empty beaches and wind-whipped hair, bright sparkling white marble and octopi strung on wires along the grotto. Fresh fish at nearly every meal, spanakopita for breakfast, and a mad romance with Fanta orangeade. But in between, on planes or ferries or buses or cabs, I'd look out at that wide selfless ocean, and I would miss Patrick with a crushing, lovesick intensity.

Of course, it was our first year together. Things were like that: crushing, and lovesick, and intense. (Soaring, too, a lot of that.) We weren't living together, though that changed as soon as I came home. In the time since, I've made myself so completely his wife, I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do without him. Not in a hopeless sort of way, but in a, "My goodness, there's no one to cook dinner for!" sort of way. No one to turn to for a surefire laugh or tease or anecdote or hug, either, though Alexis is pretty good at all of those. I'm expecting it will give me something to think about: either I've changed a lot or I haven't. It can be so hard to tell.

Anyway, friends. Wish me happy hours of gazing out the airplane window, three days of celebrating and carrying on with my bestest, and lots of strappy sundress wearing. I'll be back here on Monday.

Wedding weekend, two

Oh, what a weekend! The wedding was Saturday, and I'm still sore, after two days and two hot showers with epsom salts. My ankles, from fancy shoes, my toes, from blisters, my legs from crouching so the groomsmen were visible in group photos, and my wrists, worst of all, for some reason I'm not sure of. 

Saturday morning was a red-purple-yellow-green whirlwind of staple guns, scotch tape, paper lanterns, and a lot of sweat. Alexis and Li don't have the benefit of big, nearby, handy families to execute the setup and decor, so the capable team of bridesmaids and groomsmen spread out to fill the void. For me, that was honestly the best part. I love being part of a team, but it was more than that. It was seeing the incredible support present in everyone who helped set up that day-- the guys hanging lanterns, setting up speakers and chairs, sprinkling dried flower petals on the aisle. The women wrapping ivy in the pavilion, shoving tables around, mixing sangria, hanging curtains. The guys handled some of the most delicate duties, and the girls handled some of the most burl-intensive, which I loved. We worked from nine AM right up until the ceremony at 2pm, and then we worked from 7:30 to 9:30 breaking everything down. 

Sweet Patrick showed up at a little after ten on Saturday, and worked the whole day. He even danced with me, to They Can't Take That Away from Me, and we twirled. He took a video of Li swinging at the pinata, and posted it on Facebook. He drove to get ice, and garbage bags, five minutes before the ceremony. Whaddaguy.

Alexis had this incredible picture of how everything would look, and it was a total joy realizing her vision. 

I promised to cry, and I cried. I stood up to give my maid of honor toast to this big room full of friends and family, and I was standing where I could see Alexis' face as I read (MISTAKE) and we both just... streamed. It was my favorite part of the day-- getting to stand up there and pay tribute to her, and what she means to me, and everything we've come through together. 

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Out with a bang

Chocolate ganache birthday cake, Moosewood Celebrates. Alexis' 26th birthday, Maxie's Supper Club, Ithaca, NY.

It was a convenient holiday get-together for the three of us. After spending long, merry days with family, it was refreshing to get out of the holiday rubble and have some spirited girl time.

I have to confess, I may not have been much of a conversation partner. I was too busy experimenting with my new camera. New camera! When I cruise my favorite blogs, I spend a lot of time drooling at the beautiful photography (you know who you are, Alicia and Amanda). I marvel at my blog heroes and their supernatural abilities to take decent photos in low-light settings, to overcome the nauseating effects of artificial light, to make exquisite photographs: still-lifes and action shots and close-ups. And now, I can be one of them. So excited!

I had an excellent holiday. There was lots of joy, and hugs. Patrick's Grandma's peanut-butter balls, and his mother's excellent roast cauliflower. There were Christmas eve Manhattans with my family, and tipsy conversation, and exclamations. Alexis loved the mobile, the Airedales were well-received. Watching my mom holding her new bag and smiling, I felt proud and loved. I hope your holidays had good food and laughter, shiny, pretty things, and candlelight.

Have a happy New Year!

Sugar cookies!

Ooooo, yes. This Christmas I've been sorely missing my mom. That wonderful feeling of being a woman in the kitchen with another woman, both of you going about your art energetically and capably... well, I've missed that this season. This is actually the first Christmas I haven't spent at least some time at my parents' house, baking or wrapping or decorating with my mom. Thankfully, this is an anomaly. I know that next year there will surely be Christmas times at her house again.

But. Do not let talk of my mom diminish my glee at Christmasing with the other favorite woman in my life-- my pal Alexis. My friend since Freshman year, travel buddy, maid of honor... yes, she's quite a pal. Today, we baked sugar cookies together, and spent tons of time with colored sugar and icing decorating them. Oh, joys.

Festive plaid stars:

My favorite, Alexis' Christmas tree with a beaded garland and striped candycanes...

Here's some other holiday scenes from around our house today:



I hope those who have snow don't have anyplace to go, and can sit with cups of tea and gingerbread and candycanes and watch it tumbling down...

Birthday weekend. Summertime. Ithaca.

Thanks to my weekend waitressing career, it had been two years since I'd traveled to Ithaca to properly celebrate Kat's birthday. And, naturally, I'd forgotten that it used to be one of my favorite holidays. Back when we all lived in town together, we'd converge on a gorge or a park pavilion or a state park campsite, always that first weekend in July, always toting plenty of libations, and celebrate.
December birthdays just aren't as much fun. Alexis and I can commiserate on that account. But at least we share a good friend whose birth date seems designed to make up for the mediocrity of ours. 

Friday's agenda: burritos, margaritas, string band, cocktails.
Saturday's agenda: waterfall, picnic, winery, winery, lake, party.
It was splendid.

I hope the birthday girl had the most fun, but honestly, I'm not sure. I'd forgotten how this is the time of year when it feels sooo indescribably good for me to get away from "the farm" for awhile. 

Kat knows a lot of farmers and gardeners, and even an orchard manager or two. So, naturally, the food at her party was... oh, sweet heaven. Everyone flooded that kitchen with towel-wrapped bundles of summer onions, and bowls of fresh cherries, and bags of ruby-speckled lettuce. 

And gin. Gin, too.

It was a fine time. Happy birthday, Kat!
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Thanksgiving 2009

What a happy, warm, and tasty day.

When it's all said and done, the best possible thing is to be able to sit and reflect over the food that was eaten, the wine that was drunk, and the sweetness of knowing so many terrific people. It's the ultimate vote of love and approval: your family and friends set aside whatever other plans they may have had the opportunity to make, and decide your house is worth spending the holiday at. They're confident in your abilities to provide comfort and warmth, laughter and a whole tableful of food. They trust you. They trust you to make it a good one.

(I'm pretty sure their trust has nothing to do with clean baseboards, but let me tell you, Saturday morning my baseboards were gleaming.)

On the menu this year:

Rosemary Walnut Rolls
Cranberry Mustard Relish
Golden Crusted Brussels Sprouts
Vanilla Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Platter Salad with Maple-Cider dressing
Roast Mixed Vegetables with mustard sauce (from The Vegetarian Hearth)
Old-Fashioned Bread Stuffing (from Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker)
Mushroom Coulibiac (from The Vegetarian Hearth)
Spiced Pumpkin Phyllo Pie
Cranberry Chocolate Tart (from Moosewood Celebrates)
Ginger Mousse (from Bon Appetit, October 2009)

Despite forgetting to put the water on the table, despite tripling the salt in the rolls, despite the mushroom coulibiac splitting open and spilling its creamy and delicious guts... well, everything was okay anyway. Thank goodness.

It was nice to spend time with this gal again. The first Thanksgiving we spent together was our sophomore year of college, when we sat around my aunt's table drinking Bully Hill or watered-down Mudslides or some other godawful thing, sashaying into bookshelves on our way to the bathroom. There have been minor interruptions in the tradition since then (Japan, grad school, menfolk) but happily she made her return this year. It just isn't a proper Thanksgiving without Alexis.

Pete, as usual, was the life of the party.

Finally, dinner was on the table.

(Good lord, are we really gonna eat all that?)

A happy sight.

The requisite Dad-Diesel picture.

The dessert buffet.

The happy (and tuckered) hosts.

I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was happy, warm, and tasty, too.

Friday thoughts

Salad time!
I always forget how fast they grow. It's been almost two weeks, and they've tripled. The barred rock Emmy is a bit crazy, but the other two are so docile and relaxed-- a big change from last year's brood, I must admit. And a welcome change. It's nice to have chicks who don't mind being held.
I am at 760 words on my article. In addition to the writing, I also spent several pleasant hours sewing gifts-- and I will reveal the fruits of that labor on Monday. I was so, so thankful for the rain that forced me inside this week-- and my peas and leeks were thankful, too. 
The shar pei mix--Dale-- got returned to the shelter, and I spent three sleepless hours last night excitedly hoping things would work out. Our application is next in line, the shelter person told me, but I need to find out why he got returned. Sigh. We've walked nearly a dozen dogs at this point, and are realizing that love at first sight is mighty hard to come by. I've got my fingers crossed.
This is shaping up to be a good, down-home, low-key sort of weekend. Patrick goes into the studio all day Saturday-- and I take a wee drive to visit Alexis and possibly Kat, too-- and Sunday we are opening a big 'ol can of whoop-ass on the old homestead. May is so hard to keep up with, but we're doing our best.

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It was Christmas

 

I had pretty amazing Christmases, growing up. We lived three hours north of our entire extended family, in the snowy wilds of rural upstate. On Christmas eve, cars would pull into the driveway. Dad would go pick grandma up at the bus stop. The house would fill with relatives I didn't see often enough, and presents, and enticing cooking smells. I became a sugared-up whirling dervish, spoiled and scooped up by aunts and grandparents. The huge back room of our house turned sweltering from the roaring fire my dad laid in the hearth; I ran around the dining table half-naked. My mother was a frazzled blur of efficiency and wonderful food, always with a turkey baster in one hand. She didn't just host Christmas, she ran a three-day, three-night bed-and-breakfast, complete with presents, Santa, and--oh right!-- my birthday thrown in for good measure.

It was always perfect. The food, the abundance, the presents, the house full of family appreciating a reprieve from city life. The bar was seriously high as I started thinking about hosting my first Christmas this year.

This time, the family would be coming to me. We're a little smaller now, even, than we were then. I invited my friend Alexis and her fiance to balance out the age dynamic, and because I love them, and because they are family. I planned Christmas eve dinner and Christmas morning brunch, and got the house together. I made beds and collected blankets.

Something about spending the night. It was an essential element. Sharing a meal is happy and fun and enjoyable, but somehow, sharing shelter is even more meaningful. It's kinship. It's feeling like-- being able to pretend-- that you're all part of the same village, the same tribe, even just for one night. The same people. Does that make sense? I don't know. That's how it felt, after we tottered home from caroling and meeting Santa at the park-- a Gilbertsville tradition-- and had wine and dessert and more wine, and basked by the fire. 

Everyone thanked me, in the end, for good food and warm beds. But I'm really the lucky one. Here's my family, delighted, eager and willing to make a tradition out of Christmas in Gilbertsville. The biggest, most meaningful gift of all.

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