I was absolutely heartbroken yesterday to learn that Sentinel Butchery had closed their doors after a valiant attempt to provide best quality, local meats to the Capital District. Maybe you never had a chance to get to Emily Peterson’s shop or consume the products she brought from farm to table, but I assure it was special and the loss is real. Although the store was open for far too short of a time, it was long enough to demonstrate that what we eat is better when it is personal.
Emily and I opened our businesses within days of one another. When I was putting the finishing touches on the guest list for my Ladies First event, I saw a post on Table Hopping about Sentinel Butchery and was impressed by the rack of lamb pictured (from Washington County!) and Steve Barnes’ positive words about the store. When he stopped in to my place a few days later, I asked him if he thought Emily might be interested in joining my gathering of women who impress, inspiration and influence. He shared her contact information with me and the rest is history – she
was the came to the party and knocked everyone’s socks off with her enthusiasm and personality. Steve was right – Emily and I got along famously, to the point that Steve and I “argued” over which of us had the larger crush on her.
Since that first event, Emily and I forged a friendship based upon mutual respect, passion for our work and laughter. Lark + Lily sourced all of our meats from her for our super successful New Year’s Day Open House and had looked forward to further collaboration in the future. The loss of Sentinel Butchery is, of course, a loss to Emily and her family, but it is also a loss to countless others, people who understand that knowing that the person who is selling you your roast or sausage or chops is the very same person who selected and butchered the animal from which those meats came from, is an entirely different level of sourcing ingredients.
Sentinel Butchery may no longer be open, but I’m confident that Emily will move forward and continue on a path which is true and real and genuine. She’s just that kind of woman and I’m looking forward to seeing what comes next. You should be, too.
You know how they say “Never say never?” Well, despite that old adage there are few things in life that I personally never want to do. Let me give you a couple of examples…
Despite this snow-less winter, Jeter and I have been spending a lot of time at the golf course. Instead of skiing, though, we run over trails and on paths which I’ve never explored before without my skis. It’s been a good consolation for a frustrated cross country skier and a dog who loves water, be it liquid or powder.
The route we’ve been taking to the golf course varies but a favorite path is the yellow brick road. There’s something about that road, whether I’m going up or down it, which inspires me to be optimistic and positive. I mean, that brick was covered by asphalt yet has still managed in places to break through and remind the observant of its presence. To me, it’s like the sun refusing to allow the clouds to prevent it from radiating. It never fails to lift my spirits and motivate me to invite the good stuff to come out, to allow my inner light to shine. To be love, shall we say?
It isn’t always easy to commit to freely sharing the good stuff. In all honesty, it’s kind of a new state of being for me and I have moments when I struggle with releasing the gifts of my soul without mentally measuring the anticipated return. I think it’s human nature to consider and weigh the risks involved with giving love to the universe without any expectation, don’t you? Allowing one’s self to be open and vulnerable is scary as hell, but you know what? There’s no punishment in this world for loving too much and, when I think about those crumbling yellow bricks peeking through the black top designed to cover them up, I feel brave. I’m going to let it shine.
Cheesecake Machismo’r Frankencake. Image:alloveralbany.com
Today’s run was brought to you by thoughts of love and dessert. Or maybe I should say, love of dessert. As Jeter and counted the miles, I considered my tendency to generally be a fairly generous person. I’m not a hoarder and I don’t feel the need to accumulate much in life, happily sharing things which come my way. With one exception.
I do not like to share my dessert. There’s something lost to me when I allow someone to get their fork or spoon all up in my cheesecake or creme brûlée. I know it sounds horrible, but it’s the honest to god truth. I just don’t get the same satisfaction in my indulgence when I’m not the exclusive consumer. I am unsatisfied, I guess. I want it all.
Being unsatisfied sucks, but I don’t think it’s nearly as bad as being dissatisfied. In my mind, dissatisfaction is worse. It’s like something occurred that actively inspired a negative feeling. Instead of satisfying you, it did something contrary. While being unsatisfied still leaves the possibility of satisfaction to occur, the state of dissatisfaction means that you’ve arrived at precisely the opposite destination.
What do you think? Which do you find to be more satisfying – dissatisfaction or unsatisfaction? And, most importantly, are you the kind of person who makes it a habit to share dessert?
On February 9th my youngest child turns 11. I seriously don’t know even know where the last decade went. We brought him home from the hospital one winter afternoon and here it is a lifetime later. In an ironic way, the baby who was supposed to be my baby has grown up faster than either of his brothers. Such is life – grab the moments while you can.
This February 9th, I’ll be accompanying my boy and his classmates on their field trip to the Albany Institute of History and Art. I figure there aren’t many field trips left and I’m excited to spend his birthday with him and the exhibit, The Capital Region in 50 Objects interests me. It’s embarrassing how infrequently I get to the institute and I’m very much looking forward to seeing 50 objects which define the city where I have lived for more than half of my life.
Looking through the list of objects included in the display, I noticed a few buildings represented. As you might imagine, the Empire State Plaza and State Capitol are on the list, along with the residence of Stephen and Harriet Myers. You see, buildings are important and can help to define a city.
My children and I have witnessed the construction of a number of significant buildings in our lives here in Albany. I recall the construction of the
Knickerbocker Arena Times Union Center and a number of other downtown buildings which have changed the landscape of our city. My children have benefited from the community investment made to improve libraries and both elementary and middle schools in our city and, as a parent, and taxpayer, I was pleased to support these initiatives. No longer do children in the city of Albany have to attend classes in buildings which are decrepit and lacking in modern amenities as was once the case.
This February 9th, we as a community again have the opportunity to demonstrate our commitment to the city and its children with A Vision for Tomorrow. While none of my children will directly benefit from this ambitious undertaking, I will gladly accept the small (approximately $25) addition to my annual tax bill. It’s the right thing to do and will help to provide the best opportunity for our teens to succeed. If we can justify building an entire plaza to impress the Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands can’t we provide our own residents with a building for which they can feel pride? Maybe you could think of it as a birthday gift to Quinn?
Need more information? Check out one of these community forums and get yourself up to speed. Let’s not allow a decision this big to be decided by a small group of voters. Our kids deserve better.
The Lilly boys have all been blessed with good hair. Thick, shiny, and curly hair are represented in our household, all without the addition of products or fussing. Isn’t that always the way with boys? Through the years, the guys have gradually gone from bald to blonde to light brown to dark hair. Their hairstyles have experienced a similar evolution from riotous curls to closely cropped and from moppy to groomed. Aside from one teary episode following a “too short” haircut, things have gone fairly smoothly. Until Quinn, that is.
image from Twitter: AlbanyMuskrat @albanymuskrat
In recent months my youngest son has resisted haircuts more steadfastly than the biblical Samson. When he finally acquiesced to a trim a couple of months ago, the appointment left all three of us (the stylist, Quinn and myself) frustrated as he literally selected individual hairs which he would allow to be touched by scissors. Seriously, he was lifting hairs and offering them to Nicole with firm directions regarding how much could be removed. When the “cut” was finished the amount of hair on the floor was smaller than a furball coughed up by a kitten – a true waste of money and time.
Now, don’t think for a second that I was demanding a dramatic shearing, all I was hoping for was a taming of the wild mane. Last weekend, with two sons in tow (appearance obsessed middle son had already gotten himself there a couple of weeks ago) we made our way downtown to Patsy’s for another go at a real haircut.
My pic from last week – same chairs, same tile…
Patsy’s is tucked around the corner on Howard Street between the Times Union Center and City Beer Hall and on a Saturday afternoon, parking was plentiful – a marked difference from the all chairs full scene inside Patsy’s. No worries, we found a couple of seats and waited less than 10 minutes to get the guys in chairs. Some observations from my vantage spot – super professional, meticulous barbers, most sporting full sleeve tattoos and/or groomed facial hair, taking their time with each individual client. It was a wonderful sight to behold and I wouldn’t have been opposed to spending the entire afternoon there, sipping self-serve cans of PBR and watching the men at work.
How did we fare? Quinn received a compromise haircut which left both of us satisfied – his mop was shaped and layered and now looks far more intentional than the mess he was sporting when we walked in the door. Liam, whom I think looks most handsome with short hair, got a fairly dramatic cut and neck shave, both of which he appreciated. Hair for hair, his cut was the more dramatic but Quinn’s trim and shape up definitely was an improvement. Two thumbs up for Patsy’s – our new go to place.
- I can’t believe (s)he’s late! Midnight is more than reasonable a curfew!
- I’m so annoyed. Give an inch, they take a mile.
- I hope there wasn’t an accident.
- Were there drugs at that party?!?
- You can’t even text?
- Why can’t you text? Are you injured?
- Did you forget your keys? Are you outside too hesitant to ring the doorbell and wake me?
- Should I go unlock the door for the night?
- There’s no way they (s)he tried to sneak in somehow but got hurt, right? Is my child lying outside on this frigid night?
- Wait – did (s)he even get to the party? What if there was an issue on the way there? Were they mugged or even killed for their coat or phone? It’s not unheard of, unfortunately.
- After not receiving a response to multiple texts and phone calls what do I do? I don’t have contact info for the party hosts. When do I call the police?
- What if something terrible happened? How would I ever survive my child’s funeral?
- Stop imagining the worst. I’m sure there’s a reasonable enough explanation. These thoughts are not productive.
- What makes me think for a second that my family is untouchable? Is there a single parent out there who ever expected tragedy to knock on their door?
- Something terrible could have occurred. No one ever expects it to happen to them, to their family, but it does to someone’s family every single day.
- I’m not angry anymore, just so scared.
- It doesn’t matter why they’re late as long as they come home.
- Thank God! (after finally hearing from your kid)
- We need to review some basic family courtesies.