Done with Mother’s Day

Yet another benefit of drinking – flower boxes!

Screw Hallmark – as far as I’m concerned, May 5th was my ideal Mother’s Day. No matter what happens next Sunday, I will cherish the day I had, from the scandalously late start to the fortified-with-an-afternoon-nap late ending – perfect! Let me be a little more specific…

Saturday night, I shot a SEEN gallery down at Prime 677.  The occasion was a fundraiser for the Huntington’s Disease Society of America and it was a lovely event.  The food was spectacular and the folks at Empire Wines rallied the troops to put on an extraordinary wine tasting.  It’s been noted by some astute Times Union readers that whenever an event involves wine, I’m usually there.  Guilty as charged.

I got home from the party working at about 10:30 only to find my little guy desperately upset that he had been denied a ‘s’more from the neighbor’s party, a situation I was able to correct with a soothing shower and some ice cream.  Tucking him in at such a late hour gave me the first gift of Sunday – he slept until 10:00, which gave me an incredibly quiet morning.  Soft music, strong coffee and the paper comprise my personal morning bliss trifecta.  So far, so good.

After the boys departed at noon for their Dad’s, I got busy in the front yard with mulch and some annuals.  The sun was glorious, birds were chirping and the simple joy of getting a little dirty made my heart sing.  I had a mid afternoon visit from the person I most love spending time with and the day moved along at a pace that was completely enjoyable.  I accomplished some other chores, including eating a fantastic lunch salad, and punctuated the afternoon with an indulgent nap on clean sheets. But, wait – there’s more.

Caesar salad with shaved Romano and grilled asparagus

As the day cooled down a bit, I tied on my running shoes and hit the streets for a 5-mile lap through the neighborhood.  I had intended to go a bit further, but contented myself with not pushing myself too hard and tried to just enjoy myself.  Done.  A shower, a quick visit with the neighbors for a glass of wine and then home again for finale of the only reality show I would ever want to be on, The Amazing Race, and I was in bed by 10:15, thoroughly relaxed and satisfied with my day.

There weren’t any tulips or handmade crafts, but nonetheless it was a lovely day with a wonderful mix of boys, friends, productivity, relaxation and good food and wine.  Mother’s Day 2013 is a done deal, as far as I am concerned.  Any additional gifts are truly unnecessary, although I do have a fondness for the imperfectly made card along with a hankering for a French lilac bush.  Just saying.

A love letter to Belleayre Mountain

This is my happy face.

Maybe it is because this was the first place I ever truly skied.  Perhaps it is a result of the stunning panoramic views in every direction.  It may be because of the friendliness of every staff member I’ve ever encountered.  Or, it might be because of the all-things-considered reasonableness of the price of a lift ticket and rentals.  This past Sunday, the spectacular weather was definitely a factor.

Whatever it is, I absolutely love Belleayre Mountain.  If you know me, you are aware that my general expectation is not “perfection.” I actually find it to be a bit overrated as a measurement.  Yet, Sunday, I heard myself saying “perfect” an uncountable number of times.  It truly was a day of skiing that I will have a hard time ever matching, much less surpassing, regardless of how many seasons I revisit those slopes.

Why was it so special?  Well, the drive south was beautiful, as winter and spring continued to switch places for a few days.  Getting my equipment and lift ticket was a breeze, and I was on the chairlift within 20 minutes of parking my car.  The snow was soft, the sun was blazing and the sky was blue.  I was traveling light (sans boys), hanging with Aloysius and his next generation, and feeling absolutely giddy on sunshine and life.  To all of you who weren’t there – I’m sincerely sorry you missed the opportunity to feel the joy of gliding down a mountain with the warmth of the sun on your back.  Or the simple happiness of a tasty beer sipped al fresco midway down the slopes.  Bliss.

Upon my return to Albany, the only way I could possibly punctuate a day that glorious was with a terrific dinner at the Capital City Gastropub and my first TasteeFreez visit of the year.  It may not get any better than this, but, no worries, I’ll continue to keep trying.  Kisses – Silvia

That would be a sundae – with nuts.

What makes a perfect snow day?

Yesterday was the first snow day my district has had this academic year – and it was well worth the wait.  I understand that we don’t all have the luxury of a delayed start or the cancellation of our work day due to the weather and think you should know I am very appreciative of this career perk.  I was so very thankful for yesterday’s surprise (2″-4″ was the forecast, I’d say 6″ or 7″ was the reality) snow day that I just might send my superintendent a thank you note.  You know how I like to do that.  Or, as my snow day, cross-country skiing partner in crime suggested, perhaps I should send that note of gratitude to the superintendent of my children’s district for not giving them the day off.  I certainly have enough appreciation to spread it out, trust me.

As I spent my found day doing fun things, I realized that I had experienced a perfect snow day.  Here are the factors which led me to that ultimate conclusion:

• The day off was completely unexpected.  I would have been more than contented with a mere delay.
• Speaking of delays, the fact that the boys were delayed and I was off was an incredible gift.  We had an easy morning and then there was quiet.
• Coffee with my favorite fellow was another unexpected treat.
• Skiing with one of my best hardcore exercise girls at Capital Hills on a day with incredible light and eventual warm temperatures.  Spring skiing rocks!
• A terrific lunch at the golf course’s Club House.  Seriously, the food was really good!
• Getting my Saturday chores done a day early.  It almost feels like I was given 2 days!
• Afternoon coffee with my favorite fellow
• Making pizza with my boys
• A hot bath
• A reasonable bed time
  

  The secret to homemade pizza? A HOT oven.

I hope you were able to enjoy the recent (bonus) snowfall but, if you didn’t, I think I had enough fun for both of us.  You’re welcome!

Hope you made it to NY in Bloom!

Can’t you practically smell them?

Here’s what you missed if you didn’t get to the NYS Museum this past weekend.  My photos are preceded by some taken by Times Union staff photographer, Michael P Farrell.  I’m in good company!

Cross country love

Trails beckon…

Despite the fact that the conditions were dangerously icy yesterday and I fell multiple times, jamming my thumb really hard once and landing on my ass hard enough to create a bruise that I almost felt compelled to name, I absolutely LOVE cross-country skiing.  If you haven’t given it a try because you mistakenly believe it to be for old, slow people, you, my friend, are sadly mistaken.  We’re at the point where we need a new snowfall to get the conditions back to where they had been for the past couple of weeks, but my own skis are in my car for the duration.  There is no better time to be had than tooling around Albany Muni Capital Hills with a couple of friends and a flask filled with homemade limoncello.  That is upstate winter living at its finest!

View from a lower trail

Snow goddesses abound!

Spectacular sunsets, too!

Holidaze 2012…

A dozen images, 12 words, one great Christmas season.

steamy

hot

radiating

candlelit

majestic

lexi

apples

joy

silvery

velvety

glittering

shiny

Snow job

Today, without a doubt, was the best cross-country skiing I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy in the past 2 winters.  The company, the conditions, the lighting, it was all perfect.  The only thing that ever so slightly marred the afternoon was an exchange we observed between a couple as we headed up a hill following our loop through the back nine. We decided to climb one of the steeper hills rather than remain on the slightly groomed path that skirted around the golf course.  As we duck walked up the hill, we watched a mom climbing up the hill with two sleds in tow, one of which had a cute passenger of about 3 years-old. As she steadily made her way up the hill, a man, comfortably ensconced at the top of the hill, yelled down to her.  Words of encouragement, you might assume. Or, perhaps, an offer of assistance, right?  No, it wasn’t either of those things he was conveying.  What he said, repeatedly, was “You can’t do that” followed by “You know you can’t do that, don’t you?” I honestly don’t know if it is a function of my age or my personality, but I was immediately pissed.  How dare he tell her what she was and was not capable of doing?  Was she somehow internalizing his lack of confidence in her?  How were those boys she was shepherding up the hill processing the man’s skepticism in her ability to help them to reach the top?  I stared daggers at the guy as my friend and I not-so-quietly talked about what an ass he was.  Screw him.