Just off the Taconic

For the Love of Skiing

2012-02-11T15:39:00.009-05:00

Catamount, Christmas Day 2011

I first fell in love with skiing sitting on the couch watching Wide World of Sports on Saturday afternoons with my father. He was starting a business and worked Saturdays, coming home in time to take in whatever Howard Cosell had in store for us (this is why I also have a vast appreciation for sports like bob-sledding, boxing, F1 and Indy car racing, not to mention figure skating and women’s gymnastics). We’d watch Franz Klammer, Billy Kidd and Jean-Claude Killy bomb down the mountain and all I could think was, “I want to do that.”

But growing up on Long Island, I was a ‘Flatlander.’ Before high-school, the closest I got to a ski mountain was via a children’s magazine that had a maze puzzle in a ski theme (complete with a glossary of ski terms). I ran my fingers along the various trails, envisioning what it might be like to actually ski down 'cat tracks,' and later thought I had bought my way into the ski culture with the purchase of a tube of ChapStick hawked by Suzy Chaffee.

By high-school, I took advantage of a few school trips to Vernon Valley Great Gorge. I recall Vernon Valley was really nothing much more than a steep parking lot -- in the middle of New Jersey – with snow. Most of the kids who went on the ski trip just stood around smoking and hanging out, just like they did back in the parking lot at school. But being a jock, I hit the slope, quickly realized that skiing was much harder than Franz and his friends made it look.

Fast forward a year or two, and I found myself attending college in the Green Mountains of Vermont where a close friend sold ski passes to Mad River, a ski mountain that dared me to “ski it if you can.” I dared, and headed up to the mountain with six friends who all insisted they’d give me lessons and before we arrived had me nearly convinced that skiing was easy.

Lesson one started in the bar and included more than a few shots of tequila. “It’ll loosen you up.” “Liquid courage,” I remember them saying. By the time we got to lift, I was barely coherent. On the first run, I swear I saw double. Getting down the mountain in one piece was a miracle, so naturally, I thought I’d push my luck.

The second time down, I misplaced my friends (read: they skied off without me), then took a spill that left all my gear strewn across the mountain. A real yardsale. In fact, if I hadn't rented or borrowed it, it would most certainly have been for sale right then and there. Gathering myself up up, I began walking down the mountain, skis over my shoulder when a little boy skied up to me and asked if I was alright. I replied, “Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just terrified,” deciding to keep the part about being drunk and about to puke to myself. Even still, he shook his head and bombed off, his form reminiscent of a miniature Billy Kidd.Hrmph.

Following college, my then boyfriend (who was one step below a Flatlander -- having been born and raised in Brooklyn) and I decided to take a week-long ski trip to Whistler/Blackcomb through the health club where we met. I didn’t dare tell him that I wasn’t a skier, this being our first vacation together and all. Nor did he fill me in on the fact he’d never been on ski mountain either. I guess we both thought we'd wing it.

Going up the mountain on the high speed 20-person gondola I nearly passed out. Not the altitude, but nerves. This was no Vernon Valley, but there we were… what people will do for love.

“I can do this,” I attempted to convince myself.

“God knows I’ve got a good snow plow technique.”

What more could one need?

Terrified that I’d never measure up to the beau's natural athletic abilities, I locked in to my bindings and hoped for the best.

That’s when he came zooming from behind me… in full body crouch, knees in deep bend, heading straight down the mountain, as if a ski jump were about to appear. Eddie the freaking Eagle about to take flight. Thank god he fell over. But then he got up… and tried the same technique again. When I asked him about the possibility of incorporating some slaloming into his ski style, he looked at me as if I was taking the piss.

“That’s not how it’s done.”

After an animated discussion about “how it’s done,” a few more of his attempts at careening straight down the mountain, accented by my attempts to muffle my laughter -- and a near break-up (all the space of about a half-hour) -- I took off my skis and began walking down the mountain...again. Thankfully, he followed, and as if through divine intervention, we passed a sign for a five day ski camp program and signed up. There we took lessons in the morning with other hopeless campers who paid far too much to be skiing in Canada and had far too little business being on such a big mountain. In the afternoon, we did 'free ski' with our fellow campers and instructor, and then hit up Apres Ski. With crisp Canadian beer, a great exchange rate, and even a Picabo Street sighting, I was in ski heaven.

While it rained most of the time at Whistler and we ended up skiing in large plastic garbage bags, we both became fairly decent intermediate level skiers. The following year we traded in the garbage bags for Sun Valley, where I suffered my first ski injury -- torn thumb ligaments and a deep cut to the lip when I jammed my pole into my face. Looking back, I remember I couldn’t open a bottle of beer with my hand for about a year (this was a serious hardship at the time), and eating hot spicy chicken wings was also a challenge (I have a photo to prove it somewhere), I can’t say I wasn’t having a good time. It was just the price I had to pay.

After the beau and I broke I up, I headed back up to Vermont with my friend Jennifer. We joined up with the Swiss Ski Club of New York to endure the strict, regimented fun that only the Swiss seem to be able to force on folks. There were rules for everything. From how to park your car to how to participate in Apres Ski. When Jennifer opted to sleep-in rather than partake in a two hour breakfast debacle, we felt the cold Swiss brush of social disfavor. Still, Jennifer and I put up with the rules for a bit of outdoor activity… and the potential for meeting men. It was a during a weekend with Jennifer at Stowe where I got this little nugget of advice from a woman (with her husband and child) I met on the ski lift.

Woman: “Why are you here alone? You’re so cute, you should have a boyfriend.”

Me: "I just had a bad break-up."

Woman: "Oh why, did you want to get married?"

When I couldn’t respond, she went on:

“Listen, honey. Men? They’re all assholes. This is my third husband (she pointed to man next to her, who slouched silently trying to disappear into his Northface jacket). He’s not much different than the other two. Save your time and your money and when you get married and things get tough, save yourself from a divorce and just work with what you got.”

Horrified, I drove back to NYC that very afternoon and haven’t really skied again… until now.

Settled in with one husband (My first! No trade-ins!) and two cats, John and I decided we’d give skiing a go. We’d done it before (not together), but weekends in the country can get a little dull for me without an outdoor activity, and with Catamount Ski Area just a few miles away, it seemed like a good thing to take up again.

Now for the past two winters, it’s been snow central in the Hudson Valley. Last winter at this time we had two feet of snow on our roof and we were worried about ice dams and the roof caving in from what seemed like a weekly wallop of weather. The two times we went to Catamount, the mountain was heaving with activity… and snow… and vast ski trails... and happy skiers.

In preparation, this May I bought ski passes at a deep discount and this fall we rented and bought gear and other accoutrements – to the tune of an investment of about $1500. We were in the sport. All we needed now was snow.

And so we waited.

And waited.

Yeah, this hasn't exactly been a stellar ski season, which makes me wonder if maybe I should have joined the country club and played a few rounds of golf this winter instead. Each time we go (three times now!) I amortize the cost of our outings. Today we’re down to just $200 per person per ski outing. I figure if we ski twice more, we’ll have “gotten our money’s worth.”

But maybe there’s a better way to look at it. I love being outdoors. I love being active. And I love being active outdoors with the person I love more than anyone in the world. I’m no Suzy Chapstick and I’d love to have prettier form, but it’s fun to be able to coast down the mountain for a few hours and then head back home to the kittens for a bowl of chili and a nap.

Not to mention that I’m living out my Wide World of Sports dream.

I’m skiing!

This ‘Flatlander’ is… skiiiiing!

Yet always someone who dreams bigger… today I spotted my next goal. A pair of tight, bright, wildly patterned ski wear that can only be described as Spideypants!

Spideypants!

I hardly have the ski chops and I barely have the buttocks to pull them off, but one can dream, right?

Yes, Flatlander. One can always dream.

Sunday Afternoon Cat Nap

2010-07-11T16:28:00.001-04:00

Baking Bread

2010-07-10T12:02:00.010-04:00

Last fall, John mentioned that he'd like to try baking bread.

"From scratch?" I asked, befuddled, since John's cooking repertoire consists little more than Chili con Carne and Cottage Pie.

'Yes,' he nodded.

"Not in one of those big bread-making machines..," I wondered out loud, terrified at the thought of losing more counter space.

"No. I'd be the bread-maker. By hand..." he retorted.

So thinking there really couldn't be any downside, for Christmas I got him a book on bread-making, all the while figuring the book would be eagerly perused for a day or so, then placed on a shelf with my cookbooks, never to be considered again.

But within a few weeks, John had accumulated all the necessary tools, a bread stone, a bowl, BREAD FLOUR (I had no idea there was such a thing) and corn meal. We even had to hunt through the supermarket to figure out where they hide the yeast (not to mention how to activate it!)

This guy...was serious.

But would it be any good?

My husband made this bread with his own two hands!

Well, above is a photo of his second loaf of bread. Impressive, right? And even more impressive is that it looks as good as it tastes. And sometimes, when the bread comes out in a funny shape (usually crescent, we're not really sure why yet), it takes even better than it looks.

Okay. But would it last?

Well, here it is July and we've been enjoying John's bread every weekend since the beginning of the year. From basic white bread (with a slight sourdough taste) to whole wheat, his bread has become one of our great weekend rituals when we're Upstate.

And by rituals, I mean that John wakes up at 4 a.m., puts on his bread-baking outfit....

No, no. It's not like that at all...

But he does get up earlier than me. So he bakes bread while I sleep in, waking up later to the smell of freshly baking bread (which is almost as good as the smell of bacon...almost). And later we have the bread as a late morning snack, use it for sandwiches for lunch and eat with dinner.

Yeah...I could get used to this!

Here Comes The Sun...

2010-04-23T15:09:00.007-04:00

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter...

Little darling, it feels like years since its been here...
Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun.
And I say, it's alright.

I think I took this photo just a week (or two?) before Easter, when we had the great thaw here in the Valley. Anyway, it's been a hell of a winter -- more stormy downstate than upstate -- and tumultuous times for John and me no matter where the location.

But we're back in action. John is consulting, my public relations work has rebounded (enough to give up the retail gig - though on many levels, I miss it), I'm shopping my two spec screenplays around and in general, getting to a good place.

The best part is that we're back to spending the weekends together Upstate and we've got our focus on a few house projects, as well as exploring the area a little more. In fact, since we bought the place nearly four years ago, this may be the first summer we're able to fully embrace "Valley life" (is that what they call it?). And without my head stuck in some gigantic writing project (aka up my a**) we're going to attempt to redo the porch (perhaps our first true DIY project;) finish off the interior painting (that "the paint guy" never came back to do);) attack the goddamn milk thistle (before it attacks us); strike back at the over-growth of brambles (I've already gotten started on that) and maybe...maybe do some bike riding, (if I can convince myself that hills are my friend), more running, more hiking and buying/eating local (and I don't mean frequenting the local Taco Bell).

Stay tuned. It's good to be present. It's great to be back. :)

Pennywise at the Price Chopper

2010-01-09T13:38:00.007-05:00

So, we noted a few months back that we were minding our pennies as of late. And for the most part, it's never really fun watching every dime you spend. But for some reason, when it came to our Price Chopper outings...well, we actually had fun (or at least a "not so terrible time.")

While not really into the coupon thing, I may challenge myself to a round of shopping using as many coupons as possible after reading about a PC-shopper who bought $96 worth of goodies for just $25. But I digress.

What I found pretty fascinating was testing out the various Price Chopper brand products (and their signature Central Market goodies) against other name brands. Overall, I'd say Price Chopper products pretty much rock. Here's a list of the items we bought from the Price Chopper brand that we liked, and the others that we'd suggest avoiding.

Recommended:

Macaroni & Cheese: I actually think this is better than the Kraft version and comes is a guilt-laden 12-pack.
Thick Cut Bacon: Compared to our Bacon of the Month stuff, we preferred PC's bacon goodness
Potato Chips: The wavy kind. It holds up well to the Heluva Good onion dip (which is a throw back/indulgence from my UVM days).
Stock/Broths: Same soup, different label.
Central Market Cereals: namely the Low Fat Granola and Museli mix
PC-Brand Off the Bone Ham: Not exactly a cost savings, but good quality deli meat (this from the grand-daughter of a NY-German deli man!)
Cheddar slices: From the dairy section
Central Market Pasta Sauces: Vodka, in particular. But stay away from anything that mentions Garlic in the type of sauce, it's totally sub par.
Central Market Skillet Meals: Wow. Had the Asian Style Pork Lo-Mein thing. Quality pork and veggies. Great if you don't feel like cooking and cheaper than take-out.
Dishwasher Powder: Cheap and it works.

The Not-So-Good:

Tomato Paste. Tasteless and damn near ruined a meal for me.
Paper towels. Let's face it, you gotta stick with Bounty.
Dishwashing liquid.Watery.
Price Chopper's version of food storage items are junk. It's sort of tupperware, it's sort of Glad stuff. Either way, warps in the dishwasher and doesn't seal well.

Yeah, so not a lot of clunkers.

And speaking of clunkers, the best part of the whole Price Chopper experience is their Advantage Fuel Program. We load up at the supermarket, then drive our "clunker" down to the Sunoco and fill up with our loyalty points. It's a big day when we cash in for 50 cents of EACH GALLON of gas. Seriously. What a score.

Mido inspects the goods.

2009. The List.

2010-01-09T12:36:00.005-05:00

Nine days into the New Year, and I've been thinking about a year-end retrospective about Just Off the Taconic - the highlights, the lowlights, the in-between lights.

But in the interest in time, and the fact that the general consensus about 2009 was that it was basically crap, I've decided to just do a list of the good, the bad and the downright ugly that we experienced in no particular order, and with no explanation. I'll leave it to you, good readers, to figure out what lies in which category.

Hummingbirds
Bacon of the Month
Taghkanic Tomorrow
Farting deer
Wildflowers
Rain
Ore Pit Pond
Smokefest
Tree removal
Carpenter bees
Hummer-drivers
Musk thistle
Miller's Tavern
Nancy's Spicy Coleslaw
TSL
ZBA
The Kanagas
Moosehead Tavern
Snowshoeing
Groundhog
Price Chopper Fuel Advantage
Columbia County Democratic Caucus
Gun Clubs
Chatham Brewery
Golf
Cluster flies
Local corn
Beebe Hill

And here's to just getting on with things in 2010.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-25T18:35:00.006-05:00

Dear Friends,

It’s been a hectic holiday season and as usual, we were remiss when it came to getting stuff on the blog. Luckily (call it a Christmas miracle!), we managed to get our Christmas meal on the table…

We’re spending the holiday at our “cottage” in Upstate New York and woke to a mixture of winter freeze and flurries. Here are photos from our Christmas morning (okay, Noonish) run.

Here’s wishing our warmest tidings to you and yours -- and nothing but the very best for us all in 2010.

With love,

John and Christine

Oh hi.

2009-11-04T17:54:00.005-05:00

I know, it's been awhile...

Basically we've been scrambling as of late. Scrambling eggs (with salmon and capers)? Nope. Scrambling up hills (to check out the jaw-dropping views of the Berkshires)? Nope.

Just. Plain. Scrambling.

At first I wasn't going to tell you (all two of you loyal readers). I mean, why break the veneer of a "perfect country life," right? But then people begin to wonder. And even worry. And then you realize that even though you've been through one of the biggest personal maelstroms of your life (9/11 notwithstanding), you still have to be grateful about what you do have...and take a deep breath, relax and know it's gonna be okay. If not tomorrow, then the next day. Or even just ...eventually.

As a bit of catching up, August went down something like this: Mom goes into hospital while Dad is out sailing. Mom has flu and maybe something else seriously, seriously wrong, but we don't know for sure. Oh, but Dad is still out to sea...oh, wait, no LOST at sea (well, just for a few days), then ends up at the hospital in the Outer Banks (thanks for saving him AGAIN Coast Guard people!).

Then my biggest/only freelance client cut me back by 50 percent. I have only myself to blame on that - it's been cushy - and I've been selfish, what, writing a screenplay or two instead of hunting down new clients when I knew that the travel biz was down the toilet. But so help me, I wouldn't give back that gift of writing time for anything.

But then you mix that in with the unforeseen over expenditures on renovating the house, (mouse nibbled electric wiring, potentially life-threatening heating systems, ice storms) and the cash tightens up and the job market dries up with the Wall Street nay, Global Market Meltdown... Well, before you know it we're not just feeling empathy for the guy we read about on CNN.com about going from a six-figure job to delivering pizzas - WE ARE THAT GUY!!!

And yet, we are doing fine. (Sort of.)

In August I took a retail job at a sporting goods store in NYC where I sell running shoes to avid running New Yorkers, International visitors and regular neighborhood folks. Though not exactly what I expected to be doing with my college education at this stage of the game, it's been one of the best work experiences I've had in the last decade.

Why?

For starters, now I know I can sell and have always wanted to get into sales, but didn't think I had the aggressive quality to do it well. Now I know I can. Hell, I even "won" Sales MVP in August at the store!

I've also been forced out of the isolating cocoon of my holed-up home office back into the streets and energy of NYC. Wow...all that I've been missing! Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, the Union Square Green Market!

Oh, and I get to hang out with today's young people. They are also struggling - what with their newly minted college degrees and steep college loans. Unable to find work, they still tough it out. Resilient, really. They even make me proud, so different than those Internet bubble babies with their "Gimme Gimme Gimme" rantings.

And I lost 15 pounds! (It's amazing the mileage you log standing for six hour stretches and working in retail).

And I have one of the best work managers/supervisors I've ever had in all of my working life. So, I feel appreciated. Even if it is only for my sneaker-selling abilities, and for showing up on time.

Best of all, John is learning to cook! Hell, he's like a Gordon Ramsey in the making, what with his kick-ass Shepherd's Pie and such.

Also, John's got some good job leads when a few months ago there wasn't a thing going on "out there." I mean, we're talking tumbleweeds, folks...but for now, it's his job to find that big job, and mine to keep us keeping on. And as noted above, that works out just fine for me.

So , we're hopeful. And we're hanging as a team like never before.

So what's not to like about this "new normal"? Well, yes, we've had to find a new rhythm to our life. We've had to take stock. We've had to adjust. We even had to (GASP) clip coupons! And sell stuff on eBay!

And maybe we can't be Just Off The Taconic as much as we'd like...but we're holding onto the house with everything we've got. Because this has shown us just how much we love our lives Upstate, as well as our lives and friends Downstate.

John has a few interviews lined up. And I have just a few more script pages to write. And after that we'll figure it out all over again.

But we're not going anywhere.

And yes, we are still here. (Mido, too.) :)

Climbing Up Beebe Hill

2009-07-31T16:44:00.005-04:00

Ahhhh....

Last weekend, for some miracle reason, it didn't rain. Well, it didn't rain on Saturday. Actually, wait. It rained on Saturday night...and Friday night...and again on Sunday.

Well, between rain drops, Tim and Allison visited and we went for a hike over at nearby(ish) Beebe Hill in Austerlitz. I found the trail on www.localhikes.com, a cool web site that lists out great hikes all over the country, complete with hiker reviews, that you can source through a zip code or other search criteria.

What drew me to this particular hike was that it was close to the house, a short trail (no need to mix up a five pound bag of gorp) and there is a fire tower on top of the hill that promised great views.

Finding the trialhead was probably the toughest part of the hike. As a warm up, we checked out a few headstones from a former family burial ground (we'd later learn that the land was owned by the Barrett family (Barrett's and Harmon's occupied the plots for the most part).

Using the buddy system, we sign our group into (and out of) the forest.

Then we tramped on up the hill. More like hitting Harlem hill in Central Park, only stretched out and not paved, it really wasn't all that "challenging," though I admit I was in the back of the pack. A nice lean-to, a pond (buggy!), an outhouse, a sea of ferns and a mess of shelf mushrooms living on the trees rounded out the scenery on the way to the top.

Accommodations are simple, surroundings are sublime.

At the top, John was sitting on a rock, casually pointing to the fire volunteer Bill Starr (he's really like a ranger) and his car. Hmmm. Bill (who's not an actual ranger, I think due to economic cutbacks) invited us into the ranger house, which once served as a cabin for the former fire watchers who would post themselves atop the fire tower...I guess, looking for fires. (except for that one time when they didn't and the area burned down).

We surmised there may have been a few great parties atop that hill at some point in the past. But I digress...and some great info on the fire tower, including pictures of the cabin, etc. are here.

Your happy bloggers.

After sending Bill down the mountain in his car, we climbed the fire tower and were rewarded even further with these stunning 360 views.

View from the Fire Tower: Berkshires?

We can't wait to get back there, bring a few friends and check out a few more trails in the hood soon!

Like Freakin' Wild Kingdom Here...

2009-07-31T14:29:00.001-04:00

Chickadee, right after its first flight!

So you all know that I've become a bit of a birder. Two chickadees, I may have mentioned, decided to make their home in a nesting perch built into our porch and laid a few eggs. Just about three weeks ago, I noticed that the eggs hatched and there were real, live, baby birds in the nest.

Not one to get my hopes up about their survival, the next week, I was thrilled to see not two or three, but FOUR baby chicadees in the nest! Since then, I've watched over these little guys, buying my first round of bird seed and checking in on them like a doting mom. But about a week or so ago, when I waved good-bye to them for the week just before we headed back to the city, they had taken flight (a little wobbly, but they were flying!). But when we returned, they moved to a new hood. We didn't see them at all last weekend, but today, in the midst of the rainstorms, one of the chickadees came back...probably to say hello.

Speaking of saying hello... a few weeks back, I sent John back to the city while I stayed Upstate for another day (digging into the heart of the next spec screenplay). Late in the afternoon, I heard some rustling in the bushes. Then a good deal of grunting. I though it was the groundhog, but when I started to hear the FARTING (yes, farting!), I had wait to see what kind of beast of nature would make such noises.

After a few moments, this beautiful thing appeared from the woods:

When a deer farts in the woods?

I'm not sure if it was embarrassed, or just checking on me, but we had a good old stare down for a few minutes before it moved on, farting and grunting its way back into the woods. Just thought I'd share.

In Honor Of Cheese-Eating Surrender Monkeys Everywhere

2009-07-13T19:19:00.002-04:00

Too late for Flag Day...

...and Fourth of July...

...and too early for Labor Day (dieu merci!)

But here's some red, white and blue from our garden
to wish everyone a Happy Bastille Day!

Bird Talk

2009-07-12T11:19:00.004-04:00

So, I'm becoming quite the birder. Above is a photo of a hummingbird I took that feeds off of our bee balm plants just outside of our screened porch. According to our newly acquired Smithsonian Field Guide to Birds of North America (thanks Jean!) this is a ruby-throated hummingbird.

Below is a black-capped chicadee. We have two adults and a nest of babies -- about 2-3 that I can see without getting in their space.

We also have goldfinch(es?), woodpeckers, cardinals, robins and wild turkeys. Will try to get a photo of a goldfinch at some point to post. But in the meantime, I'm looking to purchase a hummingbird feeder to keep these babies around into September.

Six Things...

2009-06-26T18:24:00.018-04:00

While Beach House covers a lot of interesting things that make me happy - including great modern design, great beef stew and great Long Island sunsets, the wonderfully dry-witted, smart and sassy modernemama recently tagged me to share six uninteresting things that make me happy.

It's taken me awhile to fulfill the assignment, but better late than never. Here are my six:

The Roberts' Farm. Those who opt for the East End of Long Island as their weekend getaway may look to Stargazer as a sign that they're entering the Hamptons, but for me, it's the Roberts' barn and accompanying silo that serve as that innocuous indication that "we're almost there!" To our happy place just down the road, that is.

I've always been fascinated by Stonehenge and most recently, the dolmens and stone circles of Ireland. So much so that I plan to build my own stone circle in our garden at some point with this otherwise uninteresting backyard boulder to serve as the keystone.

As a kid at summer camp, fresh corn was a once a week treat, but with 500 ears that needed shucking, we needed a little bribing to get the job done. I was always that ready volunteer who helped peel back husks in exchange for an ice-pop, and the satisfaction in knowing that to-die-for sweet corn would soon follow from a nearby Vermont farm. Since then, shucking corn always brings me back to that wonderful time and place.

To be honest, it's a bit embarrassing to admit that I've recently gotten into a bit of bird-watching. But with chickadees, woodpeckers, hummingbirds and wild turkeys floating through our yard day in and out, it's kind of fun for a Citiot like me to match up the birds in the yard with the birds in the book. Next up, trainspotting?

After a round of bird-watching, there's nothing like a little country cat nap (but I'll spare you those images). ;-)

Even after a summer of renovation work on the house, we have nothing to show for it when it comes to our 18' x 18' concrete slab porch. That is, except when it comes to these white trash lights. Not only do they provide ambient light for dining, but afterwards we can push back the table and chairs and turn the entire space into an outdoor dance floor...And those who know me, know that I'm NOT kidding.

Now I'm supposed to tag other victims to share their six uninteresting things that make you happy. After which choose another six people to tag and link your post on back here.

At War With My Musk Thistle

2009-06-21T16:09:00.010-04:00

Above: A six-foot stalk of musk thistle,
surrounded by baby thistles.

It's been two weeks since our friend Dave stopped by for dinner, and following a walk around our "garden," he pointed out to me that the front "lawn" area had been taken over by the noxious weed called Musk Thistle. Apparently this tough, prickly stalk-like plant could take over the lawn, crowd out real flowers and other plant growth and generally make it impossible to walk barefoot in one's own grass (and that's really what any Citiot really wants to do at their country place).

Looking around and thinking he might be over-stating any real cause for concern, I realized that we were actually surrounded by hundreds (hundreds!!) of these plants. They were everywhere, hiding in plain sight. Suddenly I felt like my lawn had been invaded by alien beings and needed to be stopped....immediately.

But how?

Nothing like a round of Googling to make make me seriously hysterical about whatever situation I'm facing (whether it's an invasion of musk thistle or a papercut that might lead to lockjaw, I'm always convinced I'm gonna die) and put getting rid of my musk thistle problem at the top of my list of things to get obsessive-compulsive about.

Within hours, I learned that musk thistle weevils would be the easiest and most biologically-correct way to control my musk thistle problem. Then thinking that I could spend 25 bucks for a box of weevils to be delivered to my door via Fed Ex, I made a few weevil jokes, then logged onto to e-bay, amazon.com and a couple of gardening web sites to take care of business.

But it wasn't as simple as just throwing money at the problem and releasing a few bugs into the yard. Poking around and not seeing any weevils for sale, I finally read the fine print on various State thistle-control web sites (Kansas, Missouri, Idaho and Colorado are active users of weevils for thistle control) and learned that weevils could only be obtained through the Federal government to State agencies. Hmmmm...

Musk Thistle Close Up.

So the next option was to mow down the thistle. But mowing thistle would require mowing down all the other, less invasive weeds, that make our garden actually look like a garden, so I took out my pruning shears and set to work -- snipping each musk thistle stalk that I could find, one by one. I snipped stalks both large and small at their base and gathered them together to clear the land. In the end, I gathered about 4 large wheelbarrows full of musk thistle stalks (in about a 1/8 acre section of land).

Above: Winner of this Years' Miss Musk Thistle Pageant.

According to the folks on the Internet, I'm now supposed to either set my pile of musk thistle on fire (which I'm scared to do) or cover it with black plastic so that it suffocates and dies without blooming -- though I still run the risk of the seeds getting planted and turning our gravel driveway into a hazard area for tire punctures next spring. Step two, apparently, will come this fall, when I'll have to use pesticide to kill off any re-growth before the winter. I'm not sure I want to go this route (see 'It's Not Easy Going Green), I'm just going to see how strong they come back over the summer.

Anyway, I'm taking the rest of the day off after the thistle attack. I read that what makes musk thistle "noxious" is that it can cause severe hayfever symptoms for people -- which is definitely what John has been dealing with here for awhile (though again, this could be a Google-effect -- the grass and tree pollen counts are off the charts right now, too). But to be honest, I feel a bit wheezy and itchy and I now completely understand why the Vikings put up such a fuss when faced with this menace as they invaded Scotland.

Above: My musk thistle pile, ready for weevils.

Oh My, Omi

2009-06-18T18:20:00.004-04:00

Over Memorial Day weekend, my good friends Jean, Lesley and Peter came up for a visit. While Peter was summoned to take John to Catskill to pick up a new chainsaw, I suggested to the ladies that we go get ourselves a little "cultcha," and take a visit to The Fields Sculpture Park in nearby Omi.

All was going well when we arrived. I parked the big, honking SUV just next to the space reserved for "eco-efficient vehicles" and Jean managed to go to the loo without dousing herself by accidently turning on the random knob coming out of the wall that she didn't realize led to a showerhead (she thought it was an art installation). Then we grabbed a map from the LEED visitor center and looking out upon the vast greens, decided to lube up with some insect repellent to keep the ticks away.

Thinking we had taken all precautions, out we went, across the field, feeling all arty and stuff. But it wasn't long before Jean began swatting the air, as if having an epileptic fit.

"Are you having the same problem," she asked.

But since I wasn't flailing about, I wasn't quite sure what she meant.

"The bugs."

What bugs?

Are you sure the bugs aren't getting you?

Stop laughing, these bugs are annoying.

Okay, I've really had it now...

But bugs there were, and when the breeze stopped, there were tons of them. Well, tons if you're a Citiot, like us. So we tried to hang in there, with Jean swatting in misery, and me taking pictures of her, doubled-over laughing, and then decided to hell with it, who needs culture when there's a Dairy Queen nearby.

Which goes to show ya, bad things happen when you leave Manhattan, but there's always room for ice cream.

It's Not Easy Going Green

2009-06-18T16:52:00.011-04:00

Nothing says "I love you" more than when a guy buys his wife a composter for her birthday. So when hubby presented me with my very own Thermoquick Express 410 to celebrate another year of living, as I'm sure you all could imagine, I was rendered...speechless.

Seriously though, this is our first full summer in the house, and aside from all the floods, clean-up of fallen trees and infestation of carpenter bees, we're eager to embrace the full country living experience. Trying to be more "green" is a big part of that (nevermind our recent use of pesticides and florocarbons to kill said bees as well as the newly found noxious weeds -- but I''m getting ahead of myself).

As I stood in stunned birthday silence, John quickly assembled the composter and I read the directions, which were a treat:

With compost bins from Remapla, you will get very quickly an effort, if you place the composter at an half-shady place, where the air can ventilate easily. (Okay, I think I got that.) The compost bin must have direct contact to the soil to let invade micro-organisms, insects, larvae and worms. (The area seems to be suddenly popular with squirrels and chipmunks as well.) Do not place the composter to close to the property of your neighbour; a distance of 20 inch might be enough (then again, it might not).

It's been about six weeks since my hopes for a diamond tennis bracelet were dashed, er, I mean since the composter has been in place, and things do appear to be happening. Weeds are wilting and onion skins seem to be decomposing...

But beyond helping me determine what the difference is between diamonds and decomposition, the composter has really given John and me a reason to take a look at our diet. In the daily peering down the compost shoot so to speak, the items we seem to be most composting are coffee grinds, onions and egg shells (we can't compost the accompanying bacon).

Also, we can't compost our cocktail garnishes such as lemon and lime (the rinds are dyed so not good for the "humus") and it turns out we're taking chances in trying to compost potato skins (apparently the skins often have pesticides lingering on them) so there's little to feel good about there. (And for the record, we eat a lot of potatoes. A lot.) But our worst offense seems to be the organic salad greens we never seem to get around to eating. Seriously, it's kind of embarrassing to take an unopened (un-recycleable) box of mesclun and walk it directly to the compost -- but at least nobody's watching. Nobody except that damn squirrel.

Suddenly I'm having serious thoughts about going macro-biotic, or at least buying a copy of "In Defense of Food," so one of my new goals this summer is to look for ways to add more compost-ables to our menu. Fresh corn, local tomatoes and even kale are just several items I'm on the lookout for at the farmer's market.

I'll keep you (com)posted on the outcome.

Above: A peek into our composter...and our diet.

Weed, Not a Weed.

2009-05-17T14:47:00.009-04:00

I did a bit of "gardening" this weekend. I'm putting the whole "gardening" thing in quotes because I'm not really sure if you can really call what I was doing "gardening" or not.

Sure, the pouring of the potting soil into a wood-framed flower bed and then planting the purple-ish plants that I picked up at Walmart counts for gardening. And the blowing off of the planting of the rosemary, mint and basil until it warms up next weekend (we have frost warnings this week -- FROST warnings!) can also, sort of still be considered gardening (of the non-gardening variety).

The rest of the time, I walked around the property, pulling up dead bits to let room for the growing bits to, um...grow. The problem is the only bits we really have growing are weeds.

Last weekend, a friend commented that our blue weeds kind of looked like blue bells. We decided to call them "Wild Blue Bells." The rest of the flowering weeds I've turned into a game called, "Weed, Not a Weed."

Come and play along...

Bluebell or 'Wild Bluebells'?

Forsythia or "Wild Forsythia"

Verbena or "Wild Verbena"?

And what the hell is all of this???

JUST KIDDING!

Beer is Good

2009-05-08T17:12:00.007-04:00

A few weeks back we took a drive up to Chatham Brewing to see what's what.

Located down the end of an alley just off of Main Street (near Ralph's Pretty Good Cafe), Chatham Brewing is what a PR-chick might describe as a "boutique operation." With three small vats brewing 100 gallons each of IPA, Amber Ale and Porter -- it looks more like a home brew kit gone mad than a fledgling operation.

Yet despite its modest looks, the line of Chatham beers packs a powerful punch. We took home a growler of IPA (Retail $10 + two bucks for deposit on the jug). The IPA is the lowest in ABV (alcohol content), tasted light but had a full body taste (yeah, like I know what I'm talking about).

Since I don't really know what I'm talking about (I drink Bud Light when Sam Summer is out of season), I'll let you know that Chatham Brewing recently got "the nod" from NYC's Dive Bar owner Lee, a guy who does know a lot about good beer (and wine!), and who regularly showcases new brewers and craft ales. Lee now carries Chatham's goods under a Dive Bar label, as well as Chatham's own.

Chatham Brewing is open every Saturday from 11 a.m. - 2 p.m. to meet all of your growler needs. Though be warned, we tried to visit Chatham Brewing about a year ago in the winter and they were closed due to a "Growler Shortage" (personally I think the brewer was probably skiing). But you gotta love a beer brewer who understands the depths of despair that come with a "beer emergency."

As an added bonus, John spotted this authentic UK Mini-Cooper parked on Main Street in Chatham, where we took some snaps (Yes, I am that tall, and yes, the Mini is that small).

Chatham or Portobello Road?

We look forward to imbibing CB's beer and ales both here (on tap at Radio Mexico in Hudson and at home) and when we're in the city (where I enjoyed the Amber Ale at Dive 75).

Cheers!

All That and a Bag of Chips

2009-04-14T13:48:00.001-04:00

Some people hoard paper towels, others hoard chicken breast that they get on sale and freeze for years. Me? Potato chips. I don't what it is, but any time I walk into the supermarket, I can't seem to get it through my head that we have PLENTY of potato chips (of many varieties!) at the ready to accompany most any type of sandwich.

Here's my stash....

I'll be entering potato chip rehab shortly, but let me just check up on my cheese collection first.

Gone Fishing!

2009-04-10T16:58:00.020-04:00

It's been a year of waiting for today. Last Spring, our friend Farmer Dave told John and me that he volunteers with the state to help replenish the local streams with trout from the New York State Fish Hatchery. Curiosity got the better of me, and a few weeks ago I called Dave to let him know I'd like to help out.

So this morning he picked me up in his truck and we went down to Livingston, where we met up with about 30 or so other volunteers waiting for the fish truck to show. Standing around in the KwikMart parking lot, I was introduced to Austin, our youngest volunteer of just shy of three years of age; John, a WW II Veteran and Pearl Harbor survivor and Barb, a local transvestite who used to go by the name of Burt (talk about local color!).

Soon enough, Greg from the fish hatchery arrived with about 8,600 fish (all one year old) from Rome and Van Hornsville, NY that would be dispersed into various sections of the Roeliff-Jansen Kill River (better known as the Roe-Jan).

It was Swiss precision in terms of the work (minus the few fish that jumped out of the buckets here and there - not to worry, all were saved). We did about 15 stops in all, with Dave and John escorting a small caravan of trucks and cars. In some spots, Greg was able to just dump the fish from the truck, and in others we hauled the fish from the truck to the river in 30 gallon pails.

Above: Eager trout fishers

Surprisingly, at almost each stop we made, we were welcomed by eager trout-fishers, which didn't seem all that fair to me. I mean, I would say the trout should get anywhere from a five-minute to 24 hour head start before being allowed to be lured onto a line. But maybe that's what the local game warden was trying to help out with, as he tailed along checking on fishing licenses, etc. Trout season starts on April 1 in New York and more information about trout stocking can be found here.

Below, some more photos from the day. The next drop is next Thursday, with probably about 4-5 more to follow (dates TBD).

Left: Greg with a netful of trout.

Left: Greg freeing the fishies!

Left: Flying fish!

Above: Volunteers wait for a pailful of fish.

Above: Me, novice trout releaser in action. Below: FISHIES in the wild!

# # #

Well said.

Spring Cleaning

2009-03-29T12:10:00.007-04:00

While I was recently entertaining journalists in Puerto Rico one weekend, John was at the house doing a bit of Spring Cleaning. Not the kind that includes opening the windows wide and letting fresh air in while vacuuming, dusting and windexing. This Spring Cleaning included chainsaws.

As great as it is to have a cleared yard (I did a bit of raking yesterday, my big contribution to the effort), John is actually in the doghouse on this one. Reason? He didn't have anyone at the house around who could help him in case he chainsawed his fingers or leg off by accident.

That's my rule: you use chainsaws or climb on the roof (to direct the antenna for better local television/internet reception) and you have a buddy nearby who can either hold the ladder, drive you to the hospital in case of an accident, or call 911.

As you can see John just can't live by my rules...(as if *this* is news). ;-)

Above/Before: Gnarly tree limbs in front yard. Below/After: Gone.

I'll have to forgive him just this one time. Afterall, he did kick-ass job. Now if I can just get him to do some of that other Spring Cleaning next weekend (the kind with the Windex) while I'm toughing it out in San Juan again for a food festival...

xoxo

Spring?

2009-03-29T11:30:00.000-04:00

Yea, we got that.

Trainspotting, Hudson Style

2009-03-24T18:17:00.002-04:00

I just booked my train ticket for the weekend, which reminded me that I need to share a bit of my husband's trainspotting tendencies... I mean brilliance, when it comes to taking the train from the Hudson Valley.

Most of the time when I take the train it's from NYC to the big HV. There are two options: MetroNorth, which will get me to Wassiac for about 13 bucks (and cost John about 1 1/4 hours in round-trip drive time...blah), or Amtrak, which will get me to Hudson (and cost John 30 minutes in total drive time, AND get us closer to the Red Dot) for $39 and change. Of course, that's if I go at a slightly "off peak" hour and use my AAA discount (booking three days in advance). Peak hours can be upwards of $60.

But despite the cost (which is exorbitant), it's the return trip from Upstate to NYC that seems to get the weekenders' panties all tied up in a knot.

And not even in terms of $$, but in train delays.

Besides "overhearing" tales of train delay horror by long time weekenders who have grown bored of the spectacular river views from the train car and prefer to bitch and moan about their last train slog back to The City, I've seen ranting status updates on Facebook of friends "stuck" waiting for a train (that was supposed to, eventually, get them to a plane). In the end, with hours of delay, they were just plain out of luck....vacation and other travel plans completely ruined.

I've only taken the train from North to South once, but John has the INSIDE SKINNY on how to avoid extensive delays with the infamously tardy track record of our national rail line, and here it is:

As one might imagine, trains which originate in Albany have a lot less train line to screw up on than say, the trains that originate in Montreal (Adirondack), Toronto (Maple Leaf) or even Rutland, Vt. (Ethan Allen "Express").

With a little more digging, John came up with this gem: Trains with a 200 sequence starting with 23-, 24-, 25- or 26- (i.e. 234, 242, etc.) originate in Albany. Therefore, if you take one of these trains, you're less likely to get the ol' Bronx salute in terms of travel delays courtesy of Amtrak.

In doing a quick check on the Amtrak website, these seem to be the trains that are listed as Empire Service. But beware, as some of those trains originate in Niagara Falls...

All aboard, Anorak!

On Beavers, Mud & Sh*tkickers

2009-03-08T21:50:00.014-04:00

Today's springtime adventure consisted of a visit to Downey Farm over Millerton-way, where our friend Dave informed us of a beaver "situation" at his property.

As he described it, a den of beavers had blocked up his creek and had begun building a dam, resulting in a lake forming on his property.

Ever eager for beaver (inside joke), we hoofed it on over there to trespass and tramp around Dave's property to have a general, all-around, look-see.

Even though Dave wasn't around, we figured the beavers were probably doing their dirty work right in the creek that runs right behind Dave's house. But upon further inspection (and no beaver sightings,) we were reminded that Dave's backyard actually consists of roughly 60 acres of farmland and set out "tramping" across Dave's farmland, trying to avoid stepping in cow pies, as well as goat and sheep pies. After that, we faced the perils of several lines of barbed wire fences (flashback to my cow-tipping days) to get to the back part of the property where we spotted something that looked sort of like a new lake.

Low and behold, we spotted a beaver swimming along and up into a little creek. But even though we had a camera in tow, we were unable to get a shot of the little bugger because I was too busy screaming with excitement, which sent the darn thing swimming upstream even quicker (I know, typical Citiot maneuver). We tramped around a bit more, spotting a pile of sticks and twigs and wondered whether it was a dam or the remnants of Dave undoing of the beavers' busy-work during the week.

On the way back to civilization, I realized that with this being the height of Mud Season and my tramping through mud, marsh, and cow poop and *still* having dry, happy feet, I really needed to give props to my pair of Keens (aka Sh*tkickers).

Above: You call them Keens, we call them Sh*tkickers

I bought these (admittedly ginormous) babies at the beginning of the Fall, and even though I thought they were overpriced ($100 and never on sale! Except here), these have been the BEST personal gear purchase thus far in my life as a Citiot in the Hudson Valley (and I'm not the only one who thinks these rock). Not only are they sooooo comfortable, they've kept my feet warm and dry all winter long, have a rubberized toe for tramping (and tripping/stumbling) purposes, and look good enough for follow-up chillin' over a cup of Joe at Millerton's Irving Farm Coffee House.

What can I say, more mud please!

Mud Season

2009-03-04T21:51:00.001-05:00

As a flatlander, I learned early on during my college years in Vermont about"Mud Season, " the time of year when the snow finally starts to melt and the ground thaws. The good thing about mud season is that you're likely past the worst of the season's snowfalls. The bad thing about mud season? M-U-D.

Up in Northern Vermont, Mud Season starts in March and ends some time near the Fourth of July. ;-) But in 12521-land, I'm hoping that mud season ends by the time the NCAA basketball champions are decided.

So far we're not off to a good start, what with getting slammed with 7-plus inches of snow on March 1st. Here are a few photos of the mud on our road prior to the latest snowfall.

Random Acts of Catness...

2009-02-17T16:50:00.003-05:00

This weekend, Mido made himself comfy in the sink. He also ate my V-day flowers and managed to use my cellphone to call John. I think he takes himself way too seriously.

ISO: A New "Local"

2009-02-15T12:09:00.003-05:00

With the closing of the Moosehead Tavern (aka Fatso's) late last year, John and I have been on the lookout for a new local watering hole. A place that may or may not serve food, but which serves up beer and atmosphere the likes of which are not readily available to your average "Citiot."

Over Thanksgiving we stopped by the Iron Horse Bar in Hudson (with all of our weekend guests, safety in numbers and all that). Since then we've been back once, last weekend, when we had the opportunity to visit with a friend who grew up in Hudson and who now lives in NYC-environs.

The Iron Horse is a quintessential old-man's bar, with knotty pine wood paneling decorated with old saws and other farm remnants, framed and yellowed autographed photos of big-haired wonders like Melanie Griffith (a la Working Girl) and a smallish bar area. In the back is a pool table and juke box which they'll plug it in for you, along with the disco lights, if you ask. The Iron Horse's signature item, however, are the "pony" beers they sell (smaller sized bud and corona bottles) for just a buck a pop.

Once the initial stares of not being a local wore off, we had a great experience, with friendly staff and conversation that extended down the bar and back up on the topics of Hudson's history of whaling, cement plants, detention centers and the recent fame of local Kirsten Gillibrand, most of whom thought she would do a good job as a NYS Senator, but didn't like her buckling on the whole firearms issue (a good article which matched the thoughts of the patrons at the Iron Horse can be seen here.)

Other topics covered were what it means to be 'Upstate.' If you live in NYC, for instance, Hudson is 'Upstate.' But for people in Hudson, 'Upstate' is north of Albany - perhaps from Troy on up. Poughkeepsie, it turns out, is "Downstate," at least according to the majority of folks hoisting a few at the bar. Being out-numbered, I wasn't about to argue.

What attracted us to the Iron Horse Bar in the first place was the great neon sign that hangs outside. It gleams a rosy red color in the night that is just so....inviting. That's got a story, too. Apparently the bar's name is actually the State Grill, but at some point, Paul Newman pulled into town to film "Nobody's Fool," and several key bar scenes (including the bar's pool table) were included. The film crew brought the sign for the movie and the locals liked it so much they never bothered to take it down.

Well done, Iron Horse. See you soon.

Bacon of the Month Review: January

2009-02-14T11:13:00.008-05:00

For Christmas, I joined John up for the Bacon of the Month Club.

In addition to an official club t-shirt, membership card and various plastic pig keepsakes, each month they send us a pound of "artisan" quality bacon carefully packaged in layers of foil insulation and freezer packs.

We thought it would be fun to provide a monthly review of our artisan bacon experiences but keep in mind that John and I aren't "foodies." We enjoy the offerings of a decent burger joint just as much (or perhaps even more) than a fancy restaurant if the burgers are tasty (not to mention topped with bacon) and the beer is cold, on tap and flowing as well as the conversation. We really don't spend a lot of time trying to get into the latest hot NYC restaurants (is there such a thing these days anyway?) or following the latest dining trends (unless, of course, you're talking about bacon explosion). That said, we don't eat Hot Pockets, either.

In terms of "reviewing" our Bacon of the Month (BOTM), we've decided we need to use something from which to measure, and that measurement, we decided, would be Price Chopper's Thick Cut Bacon. Retailing at just $2.99 a pound (a bargain, I know!), we give the PC Bacon about an 8 on a scale of 1-10. Not only is it a great value, but it cooks up nicely, doesn't have a lot fat, and has a "good" bacon taste.

Our first month's bacon hails from Iowa, a place near and dear to my heart, having participated in RAGBRAI for four years and having enjoyed an Iowa pork chop or two along the way. The Iowa Duroc Artisan Dry Cured Bacon comes from Vande Rose Farms, and is "hand rubbed with a dry cure mix of brown sugar, salt and pepper. Then the bellies are smoked in an authentic artisan style apple wood smoke house." The bacon can be bought on their web site for $12.95 a pound.

Overall, we liked the Vande Rose Farms bacon. The aroma when cooking is outstanding, you can definitely smell the brown sugar and the smokehouse, and the peppery taste combined with the sugar was excellent. That said, I thought the bacon was a bit fatty compared to the PC bacon. (and 13g of fat per slice). And while I liked the taste, for breakfast at least, I'd probably be just as happy with the PC bacon, leading me to believe that the Iowa bacon would be outstanding for say, BLT sandwiches, or just as a stand alone snack to be enjoyed with a big red wine, maybe a GSM.

Aroma
VRF: 9
PC: 7

Fat Content
VRF: 4
PC: 8

Taste
VRF: 8
PC: 8

Price
VRF: $12.95 (+tax, shipping)
PC: $2.99 (+ tax, schlepping)

So, the PC bacon has held its own this first month, and for me is a better choice than the Iowa bacon. I would, however, encourage anyone who enjoys bacon on the fattier side and peppery tastes to give it a shot. That said, John gave it the big thumbs up since any bacon is better than none.

BOTM: 0 PC Bacon: 1

Posted - Part I

2009-02-12T14:28:00.000-05:00

Just ON the Taconic

2009-01-21T11:14:00.007-05:00

So, John and I were driving back to the city yesterday after watching the inauguration and, as usual, we took the Taconic.

There was nothing much to report from the parkway. The roads were quiet and it's always gorgeous when there's snow and it was a clear day, so, you know, the usual SPECTACULAR drive... but just north of the Poughkeepsie exit, I spotted what I thought was a cat on the side of the road. But as we got closer I realized it was a BOBCAT (Alive and well, not roadkill, mind you.)

Anyway, this brush with nature was pretty amazing (even if it was at, er, 55 miles an hour). And since I wasn't totally sure if it was a bobcat or catamount (I recently mistook a deer for a sheep), I searched the Internet and can confirm, yes...definitely bobcat.

As a by the way, it's bobcat hunting season (October 25 - February 15), but be careful, lest you be the one hunted (Forgive me, I'm reading Twilight at the moment).

OT: This is Just the Coolest Thing

2009-01-19T15:49:00.006-05:00

In preparation for the Inauguration...Everyone must get Obamicon-ed!

Snowshoeing with Allison

2009-01-19T14:39:00.006-05:00

Ahhh, nothing like kicking off the New Year, getting all revved up with resolutions and a long to-do list filled with items that are sure to make 2009 my breakout year...only to be blind-sided by the luxury of a three-day holiday weekend. :)

Being a long weekend, several folks were Upstate at our place and Downey Farm for a Murder Mystery (more on that later) and during the weekend we enjoyed snow flurries that eventually amassed about five inches of snow. Allison and Tim stayed at our place and on Sunday afternoon just as we finished watching Retro-TV, Tim started heating up a loaf of Brooklyn's own lard bread (yes, from Mazolla's, bringing me back to my days of Italian food discovery in Carroll Gardens). That's when Allison and I decided we'd break out the snow-shoes to ward off the guilt of eating bread with such a name (it's also known as prosciutto bread) upon our return.

I had gotten John and myself a set of snow-shoes last Christmas, but we got frozen out for the season before we had a chance to use them. Since then, I had learned that the plot of land across the street was used by neighbors for things like cross-country skiing, hiking and hunting (in season). There is also a secret lake that I'm trying to get a handle on in terms of swim-ability (with a buddy of course!), so our goal was to get a closer look at the lake, without falling in.

This being our maiden snow-shoe voyage, we stumbled a bit, okay I fell in the snow, twice, getting the gear on...as Allison laughed, wishing she had a camera. (Luckily I was carrying it.)

So, off we stomped...

Above: Allison, clearly having the hang of it.

Really, snow-shoeing is about the easiest thing you can do (aside, I guess, from walking). It does keep you on top of the snow, so much so that I don't think we actually realized how deep the snow was and how much trudging we'd be doing if we were walking in it.

Above: Me, with my new hat - thanks (to the other) Alison!

Anyhoo, we tramped about the some 100 acres, wearing day-glo colors to avoid hunters, spotting one neighbor in the distance on skis and others on an adjacent piece of land snow-mobiling. We also saw a few duck and deer hunting blinds, as well as a shallow, but wide creek bed. That's when we got to this scary tree....

And just as we approached the tree the snow-mobilers began eyeing us (we think, with binoculars). So rather than trudge forward to the lake, we retreated, lard bread being the excuse for us wimping out.

After checking the area on Microsoft Live, I know that the next time I venture back there, I need to take a hard left at that spooky tree to get to the lake. But I'm nervous about "getting caught" and I'm scared of spooky trees (too much of that HR Puffinstuff-show as a kid) and the like so I'll stick to the nearby state park and do one of the 4-6 mile trails there.

Another Year: A 2008 Retrospective

2009-01-13T21:48:00.013-05:00

Above: Our backyard Xmas tree 2008.
The pine tree that missed the house. Free delivery.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." -- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Before we get too far ahead of ourselves into 2009, the above pretty much sums up how things went down in 2008 for us Just Off the Taconic.

Some of the highlights (Best of times) included hosting our friends, finally, after the renovation work was done. And the work itself, definitely a "Best of times" kind of thing -- at least now that it's done. During the process, though, it was "the Worst of times." If not for me, then certainly for the folks who had to endure John's wrath from April - August. ;-)

'Foolishness,' you ask? Sure, just thinking we could manage in "The Country" at all without a corner bodega was foolish...

That said, our "Season of Darkness" hands down was in January 2008, when the wet weather brought water barreling down the hill that got into our electric line and corroded the main line into the house. Yep, you betcha, the damn thing disintegrated, leaving the house a frozen ice-box for weeks until we (nay, John), was able to put all the working pieces together (electrician, plumber, wits and sanity) to get things operational enough to at least get the reno work underway. But summer, as always, was our "Season of Light," even if it meant only getting back into the house on Labor Day.

Below, our hit list of Best of Times and Worst of Times, 2008:

Best: Kenneth Young, Mark Thalasinos, Devan Singh, Bob Keller, Bob DiRuzzio, Team Leggett, Rudy (our hip Italian tiler), Art & Pat from Functional Sculpture (Catskill, NY) and everyone who at some point or another put their hard work into getting our home in order (a more complete list will be forthcoming).
Worst: Watching wood climatize, tied with the 12 weeks to get our god-damn curtains sorted out with Pottery Barn. (Apparently, you can't order more than 2 panels of one color without going on back-order for 8 weeks...and don't get us started on the PB curtain rods...)

Worst: My meltdown at the L.L. Bean store in Colonie, when we were trying to figure out how to exchange a pair of snowshoes that turned into a scene from dumb and dumber when it came to customer service. (That said, they did send us a $50 gc for our troubles.)
Best: All those deals at Walmart, Lowe's and Price Chopper that you just can't get in The City.

Best: Seeing a praying mantis, as well as humming birds, deer, chipmunks, wild turkeys and woodchucks (and knowing what one actually is) right in our backyard.
Worst: The passing of Dave's llama at Downey Farm.

Best: Hitting up Le Gamin and celebrity-spotting with Jean (who had to tell me who I saw, how to pronounce her name, and who she's slept with...okay, kissed on TV. Hint: She kissed George Clooney).
Worst: The closing of the Moosehead Tavern on Rt. 27. Where will I be able to express my inner biker chick now??

Worst of times: peeling back some sheet rock only to discover that not only had mice been chewing our electric wires (so that the house needed to be completely re-wired), but that our crappy (and expensive) electric heating system was banned in Canada and the whole house could go up in flames at any moment.
Best: Fixing all of the above...having peace of mind and a kick-ass gas fireplace (with remote control!) to snuggle up with.

Worst: Getting Mido in the (Sherpa) carrying bag.
Best: Getting Mido in the Sleepypod.

Best: Enjoying the T-Giving holiday at our home with Jean, Peter and Lesley (and Katkin!).
Worst: Having the uber-cool new Bosch dishwasher crap out on us just as our T-giving guests arrive; then decide to begin working again just as soon as the T-giving dishes were all done.

Worst: Arriving to the house on a snowy January evening (2008) only to find that water had gotten into the electric line, corroded the line to bits and frozen our house into a giant ice cube.
Best: Being able to call a guy like Kenneth Young, who knows people...and knowing that "Help was on the way!"

Worst of the Worst: Ice Storm, December 2008
Best: Knowing you've been through the worst of the worst.

Left: A Praying Mantis in our backyard, late summer 2008. Below right: Me, during ice storm, praying for electricity - and the trees to stop falling (wine and blackberry aiding the cause).

And a few things we are looking forward to in 2009:

More of the outdoors. Snowshoeing anyone? Downhill skiing at Catamount?
A full summer spent at the house.
Swimming holes.
Dave Roberts' corn. And the Hudson Greenmarket.
Smoked brisket at Stephen and Nancy's.
Removing all those trees from around the house.
Lower gas prices and amortizing the mileage on our leased vehicle (we're over our yearly limit by about 3K, but have some time to make up for it)
Listening to more of John's (yes) "record collection."
Figuring out the secret to Good Earth's "Bombay Soup."
The opening of Miller's Tavern in E. Taghkanic.
Finishing the porch.
Finally scoring a table at Baba Louie's (in Hudson or Great Barrington, we're not fussy)
Planning to do, and then blowing off, the five-mile Turkey Trot next Thanksgiving.
Planting more wildflowers...and sunflowers, now that the shade is gone.
Meeting a few more of our neighbors and hanging in Hudson.

An Important New Years’ Reminder on Home Safety

2008-12-30T14:53:00.002-05:00

As you prepare for the New Year, whether it be with a champagne toast or new list of resolutions, I’m asking you to take one more step to help keep you and your family safe in the coming year.

Recently, I lost a very dear college friend to carbon monoxide poisoning. My friend, her husband and two children passed in their sleep when a snow melt system for the vacation home they were staying in malfunctioned. It was a terrible and needless accident and a tragedy that could have been avoided if a carbon monoxide detector had been installed and working in the home.

What You Need to Know:

Whether you live in apartment or a house, carbon monoxide can cause real and serious danger – it is considered a silent killer. Gas, oil, kerosene, coal, charcoal, and wood are all sources for carbon monoxide. Gas heating and cooking systems, propane space heaters, fireplaces, generators and car engine exhaust can all be sources of carbon monoxide build-up that can lead to poisoning and/or death.

Symptoms of poisoning can include headaches, nausea and fatigue, and can often be mistaken for the flu. It is impossible to detect carbon monoxide - you can’t see it, smell it or taste it. It is completely odorless.

This New Year, Please Take These Steps to Protect Yourself and Your Family:

According to the Centers for Disease Control, carbon monoxide poisoning claims nearly 500 lives, and causes more than 15,000 visits to hospital emergency departments annually. To protect yourself, please take care to do the following:

· Inspect your home heating system, chimney, and flue each year. Ensure that chimneys are clear of any debris (nests, fallen bricks, leaves) to ensure proper ventilation.

· Be sure your furnace and other appliances, such as gas ovens, ranges, and cook tops, have adequate ventilation.

· Do not operate gasoline-powered engines in confined areas such as garages or basements. Do not leave your car, mower, or other vehicle running in an attached garage.

· Do not block or seal shut exhaust flues or ducts for appliances such as water heaters, ranges, and clothes dryers.

But of course, the best thing to do, is to MAKE SURE YOU HAVE A CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTOR – and use it.

There are two types of carbon monoxide detectors: stand alone detectors as well as a type of detector which interconnects (wirelessly) with others installed in a home. If you have multiple levels in your home and one goes off, the other alarms will be triggered.

According to reviews from Consumer Reports, Kidde is an excellent brand, as is First Alert. The important thing is to have it and ensure that the battery is checked (along with your smoke detector) twice a year. New Years and Fourth of July are good dates to keep in mind.

Following are links to two detectors that were highly rated by Consumer Reports. They are both available through Amazon (along with many other types and models). Places like Home Depot and Lowes also carry them.

http://www.amazon.com/Kidde-KN-COPP-B-Battery-Operated-Monoxide-Digital/dp/B0007ZYU7C/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=hi&qid=1230664202&sr=8-2

http://www.amazon.com/Kidde-KN-COSM-IB-Hardwire-Combination-Interconnectable/dp/B00032NDSG/ref=pd_bbs_12?ie=UTF8&s=hi&qid=1230664202&sr=8-12

This year, please take some time to check to see if you have a carbon monoxide detector. If you don’t, please make sure to have one installed in your home. If you already do, please take time in the coming days to install fresh batteries.

Thank you and a safe and peaceful New Year.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

2008-12-22T18:56:00.010-05:00

I'm Still Standing: One of two fir trees standing
tall on our property.

I know we're still kind of "all about the storm," but, well, we're still all about the storm. Not to mention the foot of snow that came a week later, this past Friday.

As it turns out, the weekend of the ice storm, John and I had originally planned to get our first real Christmas tree together (and he had convinced me that it would be okay to go to a tree farm and buy a tree vs. purchasing an artificial tree at the store -- it was further confirmed that a real tree from a local tree farm is far better on the environment than a plastic tree made from oil products and shipped from China, but that's another story...).

So, our best laid plans to choose a tree, cut it down and drive around town with it on our roof of the LR3 were sidelined when we lost power, and the power to get out of our driveway.

But when John pointed out that while other people had a tree strapped to the roof of their car -- perhaps we had the next cool thing, a Christmas tree strapped to the roof of our house. Ever the optimist, he put a plan in place and, well, you'll see what happened next...

Left: John stringing the lights.

Left: John preparing the garland.

Left: John posing in front of our "Christmas tree."

Above: Mido gets in the act.

Above: Our First "Real" Tree in a Winter Wonderland!

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Mido in the Snow...

2008-12-22T18:19:00.002-05:00

I know, I know...more cats.

Watch out, this could be next year's Christmas card...

Cats in the Hood: Tiger

2008-12-18T18:13:00.003-05:00

Okay, I know, we're cat fanatics. But here's a photo of Tiger, a barn cat that lives down the road a bit and who we had the pleasure and honor of feeding while her normal feeder-person couldn't get to her because of the blocked roads after the ice storm.

Tiger is a mouser, and extremely affectionate. She's very independent and has six toes on each paw - "pawesome!"

We love seeing Tiger around the neighborhood and her humans, whom she chose about 2-1/2 years ago, enjoy spending time with her as well. When they get together, they stroll down the lane with Tiger walking in stride with them, more like a corgie than a cat...and without a leash!

Here's to Tiger, she's true blue...

P.S. If you're interested in your own cat, or have a feral cat that has adopted you, Animal Kind in Hudson, NY is a great resource. Not only are the (non-feral) kittens on the ground floor adorable (and adoptable!), but the upstairs Cat Lounge is cool...and trippy. Don't miss it!

They are also very active in helping the feral cat community with information about how to build a shelter for a feral cat and much more about the feral cat culture.
http://www.all-creatures.org/ak/feral.html

The Lights Are On...

2008-12-18T08:15:00.004-05:00

Word came last night that our power is back on. (Of course I don't want to be too optimistic as National Grid seems to think we are still out...). But then again, if we *do* have power, well then, let's just say I've got a few ideas for lighting up the Valley...

Yeah, baby!

Ice Storm 2008 – Part 3/Recovery & Angels Named Dave

2008-12-17T20:28:00.009-05:00

On Saturday, with the roads now cleared and the sky a crystal blue - everything seemed just a bit brighter. We were moving from a storm situation to recovery.

The first step of that included Dave Roberts and his team arriving at 10 a.m. with chain saws and plows in tow to free us from our driveway. They had that done in no time and were starting work on bringing down the tree from the roof when our tree guy, Bob DiRuzzio arrived with his team of four to finish the work and patch the roof. Within in a short time, they were on to the next job -- superheros -- all of them.

Dave Roberts to the Rescue!

John and I then went down to our other friend Dave's in Millerton. As we drove toward Rt. 11 (The Beauty Highway), we saw that this road, not even two miles from our house, had gotten by relatively unscathed. A bit further up on Rt. 11, there were more wires down, but less tree damage and the surroundings didn't look so...frozen. The deer seemed to congregate in the area as well - a place to get food, I guess. Up in the hills, we could see the ice line but the further we got to Hillsdale, the more and more things looked, well....normal.

Our friend Dave once again provided us with refuge. Seems like when the going gets tough we go to Dave's. Just like last winter, we went to his place when our electric line into the house that was underground got water in it and coroded away and froze our pipes. Having Dave nearby makes me feel like camping in the back yard. If things get scary, we're sure to find safety with him.

Anyway, Dave provided warmth, hot showers and electricity to recharge our flashlights, etc. , while we pondered his ongoing water (and mouse) issue. He ooohed and aahhed at our photos while we ooohed and aaahed at the water seeping into his sub-basement.

Then we drove back up through Pine Plains, which looked like it got hit worst of all -- I mean really battered, before stopping by the Taghkanic Fire House to see what they had to offer in terms of warmth, shelter, food, supplies. The volunteers were awesome and we met a few of our neighbors, which was nice, as they set up cots for people who were without any type of heat. On Sunday, we went back for dry ice, which worked wonders and noticed many more cots, and people showing up for assistance. (It's actually a pretty humbling experience showing up at a Red Cross Shelter and being in need of help).

But, alas, by Monday, I was "done." My super-trooper mentality had waned and with the temperatures expected to hit 60 degrees, I wanted out. I had work to do, went into Hudson where dozens of entreprenurial types like myself holed up at the Muddy Cup looking for a working outlet, getting lost in emails, warming up with hot chocolate. When I got back to the ranch, John gave in to my disheartened-ness, and we headed home.

On Monday, there was barely a word spoken between us. We weren't angry with each other, just totally drained and worn out. And now we sit by, hoping for the best, having taken all the proper precautions to protect the house (draining the pump and other stuff too technical for me to note).

I'll post more photos from the recovery when I get the camera back in my hands. But for now, fingers crossed.

Icicle Trees

Ice Storm 2008 – Part 2/The Morning After

2008-12-16T20:25:00.016-05:00

The view from our road in E. Taghkanic

It’s the morning after the ice-storm and John, myself and our wonder kitten Mido are shell shocked. And cold. We look out the window to see the carnage. We can’t believe this is for real and we can’t believe that the trees fell the way they did, managing to avoid the house for the most part (one tiny section of the roof was struck). The angels were looking out for us, we remind ourselves, we could’ve been flattened.

With two trees and a lot of debris across the driveway, John took a walk to the end of the drive to see what else he might ascertain – finding that we wouldn’t be able to get to the main road (Rt. 27) until at least one (that we could see, three in total) trees were removed from blocking the road.(See picture above).

So we took a walk in the other direction.

Me, trying to smile. Having a tough time with it.

Note the fallen trees in our drive and the tree leaning against the house.

Alone in the middle of the street, to the left and right of us, the limbs continued to fall, with the sound of ice crashing around us. It’s an eerie and sad sound. It's truly the sound of live trees wailing and sobbing to their death.

Reaching another tree across the road, we knew we were lodged in – realizing that we better make ourselves comfortable in our home. Somehow, we had to get the gas fireplace going. But continuing to walk to see what other obstacles we might find, we saw a figure up ahead walking our way. If ever there is an image in my mind of what a post-apocalyptic world might look like, this was it.

‘Bob’ met us halfway and let us know that there were probably another five or six trees blocking the road that would take us to the Taconic State Parkway. We walked back with him as he headed over to the farm where he needed to feed his horses. “They’ll be in a mood,” he said. Indeed.

John worked with the folks at the fireplace company to get the heat going, and then we waited. For help. For information. For light. For heat. For something.

About 10 p.m. a State Trooper and folks with National Grid came by to cut open the road. Someone nearby had a medical emergency – they needed out.

As we settled in, we decided to draft a list (our complete) version here, of Things You Want to Have on Hand When "The Storm" Hits:

The List:

Flashlights, lanterns, extra batteries.

Warm blankets and thermal gear (base layers and socks especially). A warm hat.

A radio for updates on the situation.

Chain saw - not the electric kind.

Canned goods (and a hand cranked can opener) and an eating strategy to get through your food items as they thaw.

Matches to light flames if you’re lucky enough to have a gas stove or grill.

Purell or anti-bacterial wipes (to use on hands after using the bathroom).

Baby wipes – if a shower seems like an unlikely luxury, these will make you feel at least half human.

A back-up battery-charged power strip to charge cell phones, play radios, etc.

A Petzel head-lamp to make reading, cooking...everything easier by dark.

If you’re dependent on landline phone service, make sure you have a cheap, non-cordless phone on hand. Cordless lines don’t work when the power is out.

Also, remember, if you think things might get bad, fill up the bathtub with water so that you can flush your toilet when the power goes out.

We’ll devote a whole post to generators. We realize now we need one if we want to be able to protect our home should something similar happen in the future.

Above: The icy Valley. Below: Same Valley this Fall.

Ice Storm 2008 – Part 1/The Night From Hell

2008-12-16T20:09:00.007-05:00

Thursday night was like most nights for our Upstate getaways. I took my screenwriting class in the morning, and then hopped on a train from Penn Station to Hudson, NY. The weather was bad, seemingly getting worse, so I was worried about train delays, but pleasantly surprised when John met me at the station, the train arriving a few minutes early.

We hit up Price Chopper to lay in supplies given the weather, then headed home. I asked John, who was driving, if it felt like the roads were getting icy. Nope. Not yet anyway… Fast forward to a chicken roaster, a half a bottle of wine and at about 8:45 p.m. the lights when out.

Ever the Eagle Scout, John went into action, getting the flashlights together along with an assortment of plug-in hall lamps that illuminate when the power fails, as well as this huge back-up power strip that stays charged (and helped us continually recharge our cell phones and provided juice for our radio).

John checked in with National Grid via his Crackberry and they indicated that we’d be back up by 11:45 p.m. that night. Fair enough. Oops, make that 8:15 a.m. the site alerted us a bit later. Okay, we’re tough. We bundled up under the covers and cuddled up on the couch until around 11 p.m. and that’s when things started getting hairy…

It started with a cracking of a branch. Then another. And yet then another. All of a sudden, our secluded wooded setting that we always thought protected us seemed to be turning on us. A large crash and a rush to the bathroom window revealed a fallen pine tree that just missed the house…

At about 1 a.m. after we decided to go to sleep upstairs, another pine tree hit the roof of the house, startling us out of our sleep. We then realized we needed to take cover, too cold in the basement, so we took up refuge back on the living room couch as a cacophony of trees and limbs crumbling to the ground around us went on, and on, and on…until sometime around 4 a.m. as I can best recall.

John wonders how I managed to sleep through some of it. Survival tactic, I responded. In fact, sitting there in the dark, hearing the trees fall around us, thinking it was too dangerous to stay – and just as dangerous to leave, I just prayed that we got through the night with our lives. Thankfully, we did.

In the end, I’ve counted that on our small “just under an acre” slice of heaven, we lost about 30 trees. Twenty-five yards away on our neighbor’s property, the trees piled up as if loggers had moved in overnight and wiped the area clean, I’m guessing 75 or more that I can see with my bare eyes. On the other side, poplars fell over while the tops of the maples and hickory trees make is appear doubtful that they’ll make it 'til Spring.

Below, a few photos from the night. More on the aftermath in the next post.

Above: A view out our top floor window into the backyard.

Above: A large pine in our backyard.
Below: More of the same from the side of our house.

Below: The porch view.

Introducing Mido, the Coolest Orange Kitten in the Whole Wide World

2008-11-13T13:00:00.002-05:00

This is Mido (Mee-doh), the coolest cat in the world. I know, I know, just like any parent, I think Mido is not only gorgeous (seriously - look at him), he's brilliant. Like if they had a Mensa club for cats, he'd belong. He'd go to the kitty version of Cornell. Oh, and did I mention that he's crazy affectionate too?

Anyway, he really loves hanging out on the porch at the house and even though he's squeamish about getting into his little Sherpa bag to go Upstate, once he's in the car, he's great, totally naps the whole way.

Mido "owns" the porch. At first I thought the porch was mine, but no, it's really his. He sits there watching wildlife (more on that later): bees, squirrels, chipmunks do their thing without having to engage -- kind of like watching a movie.

Anyway, part of the reno work on the house included installing a cat flap for the little guy so that he could romp around out there all day and night without us freezing to death (it was a bit tough going last winter with that). Here's a video of him going through the cat flap (in case you're at all curious). He's getting much better at it now -- and hell, he's got a nice cat butt as well -- if I do say so myself.

Enjoy!

Good Luck Marathoners!

2008-11-01T18:12:00.002-04:00

Tim, Allison, Mary and Andrew

In September, we hosted our first group of friends up at the house since its post-reno phase. The majority of them being marathoners training for the NYC Marathon (Allison opts for endurance races, which are even LONGER than marathons...), they had to get in a "long run" during their weekend -- we're talking 18 miles long.

John, myself and Andrew toiled during the week prior to come up with a good running route for their training run. We came up with a route that we thought would be good - a loop and a half around Copake Lake, that took in the scenic views of "The Beauty Highway," and on back the country roads to our place.

I never had the chance to get out and see the route we set, but lately as John and I explore the back roads around our house (in a four-wheel drive, mind you), I've quite frankly been aghast at the route we mapped out for them -- these weren't rolling hills as I had originally thought, they were rolling MOUNTAINS. No wonder they were so wiped out when they finished their run.

So while I haven't apologized for the gaff of making them run up and down the hills that surround us, I know now that if it didn't kill them (nor did that bobcat they spotted on their run), hopefully it made them stronger for their 26.2 tomorrow in NYC.

Good luck guys!

My Prayer for Obama, My Prayer for Our Nation

2008-10-31T19:06:00.000-04:00

I love this. This 'Obama' in the field is located on Rt. 23 just west of Hillsdale. Far better than a crop circle, I hope it can help send a message to the man above as we finally reach Election Day 2008.

Now, I am not a religious person. Spiritual, sure. But as we close in on November 4th, I feel the need to say a prayer of my. Please bear with me…I rarely do this.

Dear G*d,

Please take away the anxiety I’m feeling, it’s almost as bad as the post- 9/11 stress that went on for months and months as we waited for “the other shoe to drop.” Looking at where we are now, dozens of pairs of dropped shoes later, I pray for help…and yes, Hope That We Can Believe In.

I pray for the election win of Barack Obama. Let his integrity, intelligence and intuition guide Our Nation into a more peaceful co-existence with each other and with the rest of the world.

I pray for the safe-keeping of Barack Obama. A man with such vision needs to be protected, but there is still too much hate in this world and I fear what the worst-case scenario would bring to this country. Please, keep him and all of us safe from harm’s way.

I pray for the well-being of our country. Let’s separate Church (and Mosque, Synagogue and 12-Step Programs while we’re at it) and State. The lines have gotten far too blurred lately and fundamentalism seems to be everywhere. There’s no difference in committing a terrorist act in the name of Allah or going into an unjustified war in the name of G*d.

This Election Day, I pray that the people of this nation are able to vote freely and without fear of their vote not being counted. No hanging chads or rigged electronic booths. I further pray that Obama wins substantially, to provide him with the mandate he needs to make this country great again.

In July 2008, Obama visited the Western Wall in Jerusalem. He wrote: "Lord — Protect my family and me. Forgive me my sins, and help me guard against pride and despair. Give me the wisdom to do what is right and just. And make me an instrument of your will."

Please hear his prayer...

Also, a friend of mine sent this along from earlier this week in The New Republic (Oct. 26 - Photo of the Day).

Terrorist?? Yeah, sure.

A Riot of Colors

2008-10-19T19:16:00.007-04:00

We've been up at the house last two weekends -- pretty much the peak of the leaf-peeping season.

Whenever John and I drive down 27 towards Hudson he says, "I'm telling you, it's just a riot of colors! A riot of colors, Christina!"

I guess this expression is English (since he is a Brit), but it pretty much makes me break out in giggles every time...which makes it all somewhat a literal translation.

Anyway, these photos were taken on a walk I did in the hood.

UPDATE: John has informed me that, as a Brit, he actually said 'a riot of colours, not colors.'

I wish I could come up with a smart-ass rebuttal, but he's pretty much got me stumped on this point.

The House That Love Built

2008-10-19T18:33:00.003-04:00

I had a bit of time to myself last weekend up at the house and spent most of it writing on the porch.

I always keep the camera at the ready in case a deer, chipmunk, wood chuck or some wild turkeys come by, but at one point I looked up from the computer and saw the sun hitting the screen of the porch and thought it looked like a heart...

Okay, a bit hokey, I know, but I took it as a sign...and I think we can all thank g*d that I didn't see the Virgin Mary. ;-)

Peeps in the Hood: Tim & Nina Zagat

2008-10-14T15:42:00.004-04:00

So our friend Dave, who's place is down Millerton way, sent us a recent article that appeared in The New York Times about Tim and Nina Zagat (of restaurant guide fame), who have a gorgeous historic farmhouse on an 160-acre spread just outside of Millerton, NY.

The second best part of the article is this little dandy, regarding renovations on historic homes. Tim starts:

“We gutted the whole house to the outer walls, and then we had to jack it up to dig a basement,” he recalled. “I said to the architect, ‘This is more expensive than building a new house.’ And he said, ‘Of course it is.’ He had never brought up the fact that it would have been cheaper to knock down the old house and build a new one!”

Har, har, har, har, har. Our design consultant that helped us with our place told us of a similar story (not with our place, our's is newish made to look old = SMART). In the end, it is cheaper to put up new rather than re-do the old (that's how you get these fabulous cities like Hong Kong), but I totally respect the Zagats for preserving their lovely farm house. It IS beautiful.

That said, the best (or maybe it's the worst) part of the article has to do with the photo of Tim Zagat that accompanies the piece. I mean, what the *&$#&?! Why anyone would agree to be photographed looking as if he's all too comfortable doing work in his business shirt and three-ring binder while hip deep in his (saltwater) pool is beyond me.

C'mon Tim, you know more about marketing yourself than most...what were you thinking?! Even Nina looks like she wants to pull you out for your own good.

Oh and if you've ever wondered what it would be like to work for the Zagats, check this out.

Goodbye, Llama

2008-09-13T20:50:00.004-04:00

So, we learned that the Guard Llama at Dave's farm died just before Labor Day weekend. We were all very sad. As much as we liked to feed the goats, check on the pigs and try to determine the difference between a chicken and rooster (hey, we're city folk), we really LOVED the llama.

That's probably because of the way he protected the sheep and the goats. We'd be feeding the little beasts a bit of grass, and the llama would quietly approach (he was probably eight feet tall) and just stand there keeping an eye on us, making sure our grass feeding didn't get out of hand.

Anyway, so the llama seemed to have just taken ill -- and then died. The farmer found him in the grass laying down one day, and the next next day...llama heaven. (Or at least we hope.)

Llamas do seem to be growing in popularity in the Hudson Valley. But they're not cheap. A "cheap" llama is probably about $700, but they range up to about $10K. If you're in the market, they are a great way to protect your sheep and goats from coyotes, which have become more and more prevalent in the area (not to mention the catamounts). For a web site on purchasing llamas, click here.

When Life Gives You Limes...Make Caipirinhas!

2008-08-11T19:15:00.000-04:00

Okay, so in the "You are so obnoxious because you think you're cool just because you not only know how to pronounce (and spell) caipirinha, but you also know how to make (and drink) one" category...

We've had a lot of problems getting the floors in (they really know how to limbo up in the big HV), so I haven't been much for posting lately. That, combined with a wedding in North Dakota, a white-water rafting trip to Maine, etc., etc., and well, we've just been busy.

But now that the floors are in, John is doing the careful balancing act of keeping the renos on track while trying to manage my sanity as our first summer in the country quickly dwindles down to perhaps, a nice long Labor Day weekend (Pray for sunshine people!!).

In light of all this, quite frankly, we need a drink.

For instructions on how to make a caipirnha, click here. Below John shows his masterful expertise at muddling the sugar and lime...sans muddler.

As far as how to drink one...I might recommend "Very carefully." Saude!

Sultry, Summertime Blues...With the Rain Man

2008-07-21T13:03:00.008-04:00

So, John and I went up to the house on Saturday to see how the painting was going. We really had the pressure on the paint guy Bob and his team, because we were working against the clock (and potential dust) of the flooring guy. But late-breaking news on Friday afternoon (4 p.m., mind you), was that our floor guy wasn't going to make it the following week as scheduled. He threw his back out (I can only hope that it was during the finals of a limbo contest) and was gonna be laid up for a while.

In the meantime, paint is progressing but probably not as much color as we'd have liked to have seen. As Bob explained, there's a ton of other little things like patching and skim-coating and priming and all that other fun stuff that had to take place first. Fine, fine, sounds good enough. But while at the house, it was so hot that I could only muster the energy to water the half-dead flowers while John set to work on his usual punch list of items that I have no idea how to help with (like electronic, temperature gauge kind of things). Then I stewed on the porch, in the heat, waiting for the opportunity to hit the nearby lake for an afternoon dip, as promised. (I swear, I'm like an 8 year-old sometimes).

Alas, when the time finally came to get the swimsuits on, we heard a crack of thunder. Pulling out my Crackberry, I quickly checked in with the Accuweather forecast and saw that a storm was coming our way. See below:

Grrr....this would all be rather funny, if this wasn't the second or third time this summer that my planned swim had been marred by foul weather, and was therefore probably the result of the "Curse of the Rainman," aka my husband John.

Now, I know you're all probably thinking that I'm being mean (and you're right, I am) when referring to John as The Rain Man, but as a bit of background, on our first vacation together, John took me -- not to a beach in the Caribbean, or to Europe to cycle under a Tuscan Sun, but to a rainforest. And a cold one at that -- in Washington State. Olympic National Park to be exact.

I should have known what I was getting into then, when I saw John in his element in the pouring rain, while I had the naivety to stop at some roadside gift shop to ask directions, in the downpour, to the rainforest.

Since then, John has taken me on several adventures of a lifetime. The beaches of Rio de Janerio, for instance, where it rained. The dry earth of Ayer's Rock (Uluru) in Australia, again, where it rained so hard that we were trudging knee deep through water with lightning all around. And since we were with German tourists I swore I would end up meeting my maker that day -- it always happens to the Germans, you know. And now, Lake Taghkanic State Park, all to be faced with a deluge of precipitation and thunderstorms.

Just look at him smiling behind the Crackberry here --
it's a good thing he's so damn sexy and fun to be around, even in the rain:

Eventually, the rain passed (in fact, I don't even think it affected the lake, I'm just being a drama queen), and we went down for a dip. Downright sultry was the weather report, and it delivered as I did my 15 minutes of frolicking, dried off and we went back to Jo-Jo's for a bit of ice-cream before heading back to the city.

Swim-crisis avoided. Whew.

In the meantime, we're waiting for a floor person to come in and work their magic, and also looking into how to take care of feral cats, as there have been several black cat sightings in the hood, and on our property, but no owner when we've asked around. I'm referring to Animal Kind's info on building a cat shelter and hope to have it up by next week pending another sighting. Will keep you posted on that!

Floorgasm!

2008-07-17T14:19:00.020-04:00

So we've had major progress on the whole floor situation. Once climatized, our main man Mark (who wasn't sojourning in the South of France as I had suspected) got his crew of five guys together to put in the pine flooring in the house -- all to the uber-geeky tunes of The Monkees.

First bit of excitement was having a driveway full of cars and trucks (six in all!), it means that progress is afoot...as seen here:

The second bit of excitement (aside from "Last Train to Clarksville") was seeing all of these guys pull together to get the flooring in on one and half-floors of house (I guess about 1,200 sq. ft.) in 1.5 days, start to finish. Here they are sawing the pine that will be lifted up through the window.

And best of all, when they left us (work-site immaculate, BTW), we got to take in the near finished product...FLOORGASM!

View above: The living area looking towards the new French doors, to be stained.

Watch the above space for when the kitchen is installed.
And below will be the view that our cooking goddess Jean will have as she prepares a meal for her peeps, Julia Child-style.

All I can say is..."Yeah, I'm a Believer!" (Thanks Mark and crew!)

Housekeeping Notes: John has mentioned to me that in a prior posting I said that "pine was cheap." He begs to differ as the bills from Herrington's came to a bit over $3K (YIKES!). But that includes pine for the entire main floor, plus new bedroom downstairs, as well as materials for window trim, nails, adhesive, etc. That said, Mark mentioned to us about some past client who spent $20K on wood flooring material (mahogany?) and another $20K on installation. (Gulp.)

Flack Alert (Here's the PR chick in me coming out, god I hate myself in these moments, but still...): A shameless shout-out needs to go to Herrington's; the contractors love them, they apparently discount, deliver and John loves the back-office folks who are quick to respond to any questions concerning billing, etc. www.edherrington.com

Next up is the guy who will strip, sand and refinish the floors. He enters the scene next Monday. We're going to let him work in seclusion so that no kitten paws get stained and the new floors don't get my Saskwatch-like foot prints in the polyurethane.

What the...Flowers from Outer Space?

2008-07-10T18:43:00.000-04:00

I'm not even sure where to begin with these latest spawn...er, I mean flowering wonders that cropped up this week at the house. Looking at them makes me think "Men in Black" meets "The Victory Garden," and as much as I like wild flowers, these are like the Jimi Hendrix of psychedelic flora.

I'll just sit back and let you enjoy...

Excuse me, while I hit the sky...

The Pizza Principles

2008-07-07T21:14:00.005-04:00

When John and I first started looking for a place to call our second home, one of the most important things on my list of "Must Haves" wasn't that the house had to have a wood-burning fireplace or a designer kitchen or central air. It was that the house had to be within a ten minute drive of a decent pizza place.

My need for a pizza place goes back to when I used to spend my weekends in the Hamptons (I know, gag me). Arriving on Friday night, I would forgo the dance clubs and chill-lounges for pizza (and beer) or a big plate of pasta (and wine). Following an early night's sleep, I'd wake up at 7 a.m. to bike my guts out all over the East End, generally riding 60+ miles each morning (I know, double-gag me).

While I don't carry on with that silliness anymore, I still think there's great value in having a pizza joint nearby. For instance, when it's your first week in your new home and you buy a Weber BBQ and spend a good hour putting it together, only to realize that, while you have plenty of charcoal, you don't have a match to light the flame. And having used up all your boy/girl scout skills, (namely patience), to get the damn grill set up, you give up and opt for a pepperoni-mushroom pie instead. Along with a very cold beer.

After spending about 1.5 years in search of our perfect home and feeling like what we were looking for quite possibly just didn't exist, we decided to list our "criteria" for what features and amenities we would want in a country home, and rated them on a 1-10 scale going from "not at all important" to "very important." Using what I learned when I went through my first mid-life crisis and got my real estate license, I developed a list based on the following, which I will heretofore call The Pizza Principles :

Location: Here we listed things like travel time to/from NYC, distance to train services, proximity to a major town, not to mention proximity to pizza, etc. We also listed things like the house's setting, farmland vs. woodland; privacy vs. seclusion (there is a difference!), rural or neighborhood, and so on. We nailed it with our place, being just 10 minutes to Hudson, just over 2 hours from Manhattan and enjoying woodlands, privacy and just enough seclusion to feel away from it all, but not have me freak-out if I'm at our place alone.

Building: This was basically whether we preferred a contemporary or historic home. As well as whether we wanted move-in condition or a place that "needed work." John preferred the idea of an older home that was in good shape, but we ended up with a contemporary home with an older feel as the house was based on colonial saltbox design, modified for modern living. The older feel also came in with the previous owner doing smart things like buying old wooden doors throughout the interior to give the place that older feel.

Light: What was the predominant view? Woodland vs. farmland vs. town vs. water. Woodland won. Oh, light also has to do with light...we wanted sunny, but the rooms can be rather dark at times (oops). Still the place feels airy. Which leads us to:

Air: Air really has to do with layout. Open plan vs. formal rooms. We are going with an open plan main floor, knocking a wall down to create an L-shaped living space. We love open plan. Open plan rocks. Plus our bedroom and our guest's bedrooms are both on separate floor (us upstairs, guests down a level from the main floor). This gives every body the necessary "breathing space."

Space: Plot size, acreage, number of bedrooms, etc., etc. In the end this is really probably more about what you can afford. Our place had two finished bedrooms, and we're finishing out the basement to add another (for a total of three bedrooms - ideally we would have liked four even though that's a lot of guests!), but we feel we really lucked out with a small plot with the benefit of lots of surrounding wooded areas (that we don't have to pay taxes on).

Anyway, back to the pizza. I'm not great at food-writing, but Jo-Jo's does a good pie, in the traditional New York style. It does a bustling trade both with the locals and people passing through on their way to the Berks in the summer or skiing at Hunter/Windham in the winter. Just off the Hudson/Rt 82 exit of the Taconic State Parkway, their pastas aren't bad either. Recently I spotted a table of diners enjoying a calzone, which looked fantastic.

Aside from the pizza, John and I like going to Jo-Jo's for a bit of ice-cream before heading back to the city or when we're on our way back to our place from a swim at the Taconic State Park. And when I eat my soft-serve chocolate wafer cone with chocolate sprinkles and John opts for the hard ice-cream in black raspberry on a sugar cone, we love to do what all Citidiots do: feed Jo-Jo's resident goats. :)

Get Me to the Church on Time

2008-07-07T20:36:00.013-04:00

On Saturday we needed another excuse to go up to the house (other than to watch the wood climatize), and so we ended up taking a little visit to a church on Rt. 27 that's going up for auction. We've often driven by this little church and it's a real charmer from the outside, just a lovely and peaceful setting under some great big, beautiful Maple trees.

In typical real-estate speak, the listing boasts an Historic 1850's church "ready to be converted to a retreat or studio" (Read: This baby needs a lot of work!)..."The possibilities are endless!" (Read: We're talking gut-wrenching, gut renovation here, folks!!) Indeed. Sadly, while the church really is lovely on the outside, the latter-day Lutherans who last used the place in the 1950s had terrible taste in interior decor (linoleum floors, drop ceilings - oh the horror!) which must have surely put the end to the congregation -- I mean, who would show up for a pot-luck dinner in a place like that!?

Anyway, we made polite by taking the little info packet and checking out the outhouse and we truly hope someone with big vision and an even BIGGER pocketbook is able to restore this otherwise lovely country structure. For more details on the property and the auction, (including images of linoleum flooring over perfectly lovely painted wood floor boards) visit Copake Real Estate Auctions.

Climatizing Wood...and Other Excuses for Taking a Summer Holiday

2008-07-07T19:42:00.005-04:00

Somewhere between the philosophical riddle of "If a tree falls in the forest, and there's no one around to hear it," and the idiom that "A watched pot never boils," lies our latest home renovation dilemma, climatizing wood.

Yes, in our latest installment of how the home renovation turns, we recently had our timeline derailed not due to mice gnawing at the electrical wiring or dangerous combinations of hot wires embedded in plastic sheets charring the home insulation, but by the failure of "one of the cooks in the kitchen" to get the wood into the house to begin the "climatizing" process.

"Climatizing wood," you ask? "What's that?" Well, that was precisely my question, and being new to this whole home ownership/reno thing, as well as being a jaded if not cynical New Yorker, when I heard about the climatizing thing, I damn near fell off the chair...we'd be losing two weeks while our cheap planks of pine settled their little two by five and two by seven butts into our home -- and got used to its level of humidity. Surely there had to be something more devious at play here. A contractor's vacation perhaps. Or even worse, perhaps a hint of contractor ennui.

But armed with my Google tool bar, answers came quickly. Within minutes I learned that wood, indeed, needs to be climatized. And while I've never seen wood climatize in any of those home reno shows I've been watching for the past four years (Flip This House, Flip That House, Property Ladder and my favorite, the BBC's Location, Location, Location) according to woodworkingshows.com: "The relative humidity where the lumber is purchased may be different than the humidity in your workshop area. You should climatize the lumber in the environment in which it is being worked to obtain the equilibrium moisture content of the wood. While 72 hours of climatizing is generally recommended, two weeks or longer tends to achieve better results."

@*#$%!!!

And so, "the floor guy" is off galavanting about with other, less boring floor projects, or hanging with his kids at the Copake quarry, or perhaps even sipping wine in the South of France, all while we wait for the wood to work its magic.

In the meantime, our painter Bob and his crew who also did all the dry wall and sheetrocking is moving along with the painting at a furious pace. When we went up last Saturday, the first coat of paint had already been put on throughout the main floor along with the new bedrooms downstairs. Once its complete, I'll share the photos with the deets on the paint colors.

###

Late-Breaking News: The wood, apparently, has climatized. Our floor guy will be working away on Thursday and Friday this week to "get 'er done."

Whew.

Photo captions above and right: Wood, climatizing.

Cat-n-Around Catskill

2008-06-24T18:01:00.009-04:00

Finding ourselves in Catskill last Friday, we were introduced to the town's annual Cat-n-Around Catskill cats on display.

More than enjoying the free parking (well, our spot anyway), we had a lot of fun just running around and looking at all the fun cats.

In particular was Pat Feinman's Cat House Kitty (below), which we loved, because Pat designed our "fabulous" kitchen that we will love forever and she was smart and easy to work with. And even if Kenneth did nix the back splash tile, we did find some great replacements as well as other really cool tiles for the fireplace hearth. For more info about what Pat and Art do, visit Functional Sculpture.

While we were there, Pat's husband Art started talking about her jewelry line, which pretty much left my two male partners (a Scotsman and a Brit) at a complete loss for words. Truth be told, I was speechless too, in a "Wow, this isn't your normal small-town shop-talk banter" kind of way, rather than a "shocking, I'm just shocked" and shaking my head in a prudish recoiling kind of way.

The topic at hand (or wrist) had to do with Pat's newly-designed bracelets that look like a certain female body part ("Rhymes with Delores"). Made for the "woman who celebrates her femininity" (okay, I'm down with that), I'm sure there's a market for it and I'll be sure to check out the wrists on the gals in Park Slope the next time I'm back in the 'hood. Delores bracelets aside, she's got other gorgeous silver items like the less racy dragonflys.

Still, the cats in Catskill are supercool and we're hoping to make it to the big cat auction in September!

Happy Goats

2008-06-20T17:45:00.001-04:00

So, we drove past a friend's place down off Rt. 22 the other week, and while I asked (and did not receive) permission to publish a little post about his idyllic farmhouse (he's a lawyer, so I won't push it) ;-), I couldn't resist putting up this awesome photo of one of the goats at his place (so sue me).

Seriously, have you ever seen such a happy goat?

Reminds me of a song my mom used to sing to me:

"Oh, Mares eat oats,
and Does eat oats,
and little Lambs eat ivy,
a Kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?"

Hmm...do goats eat oats?

Flowers, Flowers Everywhere...We Hope!

2008-06-19T15:21:00.017-04:00

We're heading back Upstate tomorrow to swing by the house and check on the progress of renovations and to meet with Kenneth Young, our design maven/taste master (he basically makes sure any reno work we do is in "good taste." This week it includes looking at tiles for the fireplace hearth and getting approval on the kitchen and tiles that we have already purchased.

Mostly, I'm just excited to see how the flowers are doing, as things keep springing to life up there.

Below, you'll see my new bed of impatiens that I planted (after ripping out some rather sad pachysandra that got gobbled up by some rooty mess of somethingorother.) The impatiens are just left-overs from our city garden...next year I'll plant lavender and heather, maybe some rosemary, as well as plenty of mint for my mojitos!

In addition, here are some some of the incredible poppys that were planted by the previous owner (along with those purple irises and a ton of wildflowers). They are so gorgeous that we bought more seeds earlier this year (one of John's birthday gift for me :)) and we put them down in a few bald patches (result of digging to put in a propane tank and extra soil from said tank) around the property.

The Land Rover Event

2008-06-13T17:46:00.001-04:00

As current lessees of an LR3 and former Range Rover owner, yesterday, John and I played hooky and went up to Rhinebeck, N.Y. to attend the Land Rover "Choice of Experts" event at the Astor Courts, aka Astor Casino.

The building is obviously impressive (and a perfect spot for a Land Rover event). Designed by Stanford White, the place is home to the first residential indoor swimming pool in the U.S., as well as a gorgeous indoor clay tennis court. Apparently the place had fallen into total disrepair when, four years ago, a family bought it and brought it back to its "original splendor," all the while adding a few modernities such as a Sub-Zero fridge in the designer kitchen and modern plumbing.

At the event, we both had a chance to drive a car of choice (we had pre-selected the LR3 to learn more about its handling). Travis took us out and I jumped at the chance to drive first (sorry John!). We drove through mud and ruts and weaved (slowly) around tree trunks, over logs and rocks, etc.

Then it was time for "The Cliff." At the top of this 30+ ft. drop where I couldn't see the bottom over the hood, Travis had us put the car in some kind of special self-drive, downhill mode (the yellow button), and after a bit of prompting by Travis and white-knuckling by me, I "drove" down this drop. Here's the photo that John took looking down the hill:

After that, we went around and drove through a "river," where the water came up near the window and I half anticipated alligators at the door.

Then John took the wheel...

Following the drive, we were welcome to explore the house, sit-in on a cooking demonstration and enjoy some crab cakes and shrimp salad.

It was Cutter, the household's Golden Retriever, however, who stole the show for us. Not sure if it was John's usual wonderful ways with animals, or the potential for food scraps, but Cutter was the perfect ending to what this public relations person would consider a flawless event.

Thanks Land Rover! Bye-bye Cutter!

The House

2008-06-13T16:14:00.004-04:00

Welcome to Just Off The Taconic, the blog about our little slice of heaven in the Hudson Valley (E. Taghkanic), Our House, and some of the things we do out and about in the area.

John (my wonderful husband and best friend in the whole wide world...) and I first saw The House last June. After a two-and-a-half year search for the perfect property in the region (that was within our budget, etc.), we closed last August. Soon after, we spent a week settling in -- and trying to survive without the comforts of a nearby bodega and automatic dishwasher. While we did OK without the bodega, we realized that we really couldn't survive without a dishwasher and decided to have "a little work" done on the place.

"A little work" originally included a new kitchen to make room for that badly-needed dishwasher, knocking down a wall to make the "main floor" an open plan, adding French doors to access the porch (not to mention a cat flap for Mido, our little orange wonder kitten), and possibly finishing out a basement area to make an extra guest bedroom (to turn it into a proper 3 BDRM home).

In January, we drove up the Taconic State Parkway in an eerie snow squall to find that the power line that led into the house had been compromised. Water had gotten into the electric line, corroded it and finally just disintegrated it, leaving us with a house that was more ice box than anything habitable. The good news was that we later found that the pipes didn't burst (nor the toilets, or anything really).

The bad news was that this delayed the reno work that we would later learn would also have to include a new heating system (due to do a dangerous electric heating system that had been put in when the house was built), new electrical wiring throughout (due to a hungry mouse nibbling on the wires) and some other stuff that, quite frankly, I've just blocked out, but which I hope John will detail in later posts.

In the meantime...to get us started...here are the "Before" photos for your viewing pleasure:

Above: The House. I believe this is from the realtor's page as it looks like early spring, when the house was listed in 2007.

Above: the massive 18' x 18' porch.

Above: Our kitchen, sans diswasher.

Above: Our living area...but we really couldn't manage living with that wallpaper.

Above: Massive porch, interior.