Well, the last day of school was pretty hard for me. Every time someone came up and said, "Doing okay?" I could feel the fullness of tears shimmer behind my eyes. It was a half day, and at noon I sat outside Callum's building waiting for the kids to come out. Tissues and camera in hand.
One by one his classmates emerged, a gaggle of happy geese set free for flight. Talking, laughing, hugging. Summer reflected in their eyes.
And I waited. I could see through the window as Callum sat alone in the hallway, under the coat rack. He was slowly putting things away in his backpack and sorting through the bags of detritus that every student was bringing home.
That's when I really started to feel weepy. My boy, slowly saying goodbye for the last time. I pictured us sitting in that very spot, my arm around him, sticky from the heat. How could I comfort him if I was so sad myself? Moments later, Callum burst through the door. Without a glance at me, he dashed off toward the back playground.
That's what this photo is of. Not Callum feeling bereft at this leave-taking. But Callum serious and concentrating as he seeks out the enemy in a water gun battle. Sometimes good-byes need to be just like this.
Well, I had several sweet (little) posts written about how much I missed you and how I was writing, a lot actually, but that didn't take the place of writing here, and how I've been thinking about writing a lot too, and apparently I have a good bit to say these days but now we have a new computer and we're caught in that vague nether-world of transferring information from one to the other because the internet visits one but my photos are on the other and AAAACK what a pain. But what's also a pain is trying to post from my phone (which is where this picture is located). It was already hard to type all this out, but when Typepad didn't publish my post (the sweet little one), not once but TWICE. Then I got really fed up. And gave up.
Irritatedly,
me.
I hope to be back soon, but only when everyone is cooperating.
This weekend was the annual wine tasting at my friend Catherine's church. We look forward to this get-together every year, a glimmer of fun in deepest, darkest February. They always feature Virginia wineries, and this year's guest was Rosemont Vineyard. Of all the years we've been, this is my favorite vineyard. The owner told a wonderful story about how he was jogging along on the treadmill of life, not feeling inspired and with his health showing the effects of his hard work. He woke one day, knowing that he didn't want to live like this anymore, so he came home to his family's estate. He walked the land, and slept in late, and one day decided that he needed to come home permanently and open a vineyard. That was only three years ago. His son now works with them as the vintner and they're winning awards all over the place. Cool story, huh? Makes me think we need a 15 year plan. That's gonna be a tricky one for Neel, I think.
We were a table of twelve and everyone brought munchies and delectable treats to nibble on. In fact, I think we were nibbling on nibbles, right Catherine?
And then the wine! Pretty good stuff too. We had generous pourers, and by the time we got to tasting number 12, everyone was chatty and happy and much warmer than the cold air outside.
Oh, hearts beating with unadulterated joy. This is what we woke up to Saturday morning. What a dream! A dream snow fall. The excitement started on Friday as the predictions rolled in. Everywhere there was a sense of anticipation and giddiness. Neel and I went to dinner at our favorite, pre-storm restaurant, just to keep the momentum going. By the time we all tucked into bed, nothing.
I woke up around 1-2 a.m. and still nothing.
At four, when I looked out again, the rooftops were covered. We managed to stay in bed until seven, but after that I couldn't wait for Callum to finally see it. This poor Southern Californian boy yearns for snow and doesn't get enough of it here.
The view out the windows was stunning.
Even with the snow beating down, everyone came outside.
There were sleds to be pulled and snowballs to be thrown. (Although the real snowball fight came Sunday until someone -no names mentioned- threw a snowball at his dad and cut his eyelid. The dad had to be taken to the ER for five stitches, and even though it was a total accident and didn't happen to my family, all the moms were probably thinking, "It's all fun and games until someone gets an eye poked out.")
It snowed all day. A real event around these parts. Neel brought in so much firewood that we had to pile it on the floor.
I snuggled up in a cozy spot, while Callum was out, out, out. Only coming in to change out his three layers of socks. Weekend wonderland.
Well, this photography class is kicking my butt. Switching my camera to "M" has made my brain go fuzzy and panicky. And I don't even care how ridiculous we all look out there, taking pictures of the grass.
This was the very first picture I took after making the switch. Not reassuring, huh?
But, oh so slowly, I might be figuring things out... just a little. This photo was on our first day too. When we focused (ha! get it?!) on shutter speed and aperture.
I feel a little like I'm back in algebra, where I need to master one skill before moving on to the next...and I still haven't mastered multiplication! For the next class, we worked on Depth of Field...and she made us break out the telephoto! Yikes. So here's an example of a deep (?) Depth of Field. The object up front is blurry, while the branches in back come into focus. Not a successful picture, necessarily, but a successful experiment.
And the way it should be...sharp in front, blurry in back. Now, I'm getting somewhere. Maybe.
1. cook lamb (still)
2. write more
3. less tv
4. more music
5. read more with Callum
6. fit by 40
7. be less absolute in my judgments
8. spend less money
9. cook with Callum
10. do SOMETHING big
I can't remember an autumn or winter when my family didn't roast chestnuts. They're staples of our holiday meals. We can't have a turkey without chestnut stuffing, it seems. My dad developed a whole system of preparing them that's my favorite even now. For Christmas one year I got a chestnut roaster and cookbook, but it broke (the roaster, not the cookbook) during one of the phases of our recent kitchen/hallway renovation (almost done!). And honestly, I was almost relieved. I liked that roaster, really, I did, but it presented us with a whole new way of preparing the chestnuts, and while they were tasty, I'm just not sure I liked them as much as the old way.
Our old way is, admittedly, labor intensive for a snack. It's an all day proposition, so it's best to do it on a cold or rainy Sunday when you have a few football games stretching in front of you.
First you score your chestnuts. Most of the packaging will tell you to do it on the flat side, but I have best success at the tip. Then you put them in a pot, with water to cover and set them to boil for at least twenty minutes. The longer you boil them, the easier they are to peel. You may have to add water as it boils off. After the skins have softened, pour off the hot water, rinse and cover with cold and take off the heat.
Now the fun begins! Time to peel. It's best to do this with company. My dad and I always did it together, and at holidays my grandad would help. Neel doesn't generally eat chestnuts (what's wrong with him?!), so I can't really strong-arm him into the peeling, but Callum does. I think ten is high time to join the family tradition. It's hard on your hands, this part. Your fingers will get wrinkly from the water and your thumbs will get sore under the nail from peeling of the papery part of the skin. Chestnut peeler's thumb is an occupational hazard, I'm afraid.
After peeling, break the chestnuts into smaller pieces and place in a small, heavy pan for roasting. I use a glazed, ceramic dish with a lid, but you could even use a pie dish if pressed. Salt and dot the chestnuts (liberally) with butter and place in a 350 degree oven for... awhile. Hmmm. Twenty to thirty minutes, maybe? Until they're done, really. See photo above. They'll soften and absorb the butter. Finally it's time to eat. Dig into the deliciousness and enjoy the fruits of your labor.
We're planning on chestnuts for our Christmas dinner this year. Chestnut stuffed pork loin, based on a meal I had in Hungary. Hungarians use a lot of chestnuts in their cooking and even leave the nuts as small offerings on the grave markers of their saints. My dad and I have agreed that if you have multiple, additional steps in your recipe, it's permissible to use pre-peeled chestnuts. But only then. My cookbook gathers dust, generally. I'm a purist at heart.
We were off having fun, playing Nerf gun tag in the dark, while our neighbors had bigger concerns. Friday morning revealed more damage than we'd expected.
Neighbors across the street woke to find a divet in their driveway next to their eighty foot oak that hadn't been there before. We waited all day, sick feelings in the pits of our stomachs, for the busy tree guys to come as we watched that gorgeous old oak lean towards another neighbors house. Such a shame, but it had to come down.
A couple of doors down was this. When I asked that neighbor if he'd heard it happen, he said, "I saw it." It came right at him, missing the house and only glancing against his truck. He was mournfully pulling brush away from the trunk, and someone mentioned later that day that he seemed so sad.
These last few photos I took with my phone, so the quality is a bit murky. That's the river, at the end of the lane in the shot above. It's a tidal rive; we've even seen dolphins swimming in it in the summer. We live about three blocks away, and it's breaking not just about the bulkhead, but pouring into the street, over half a block up. As you can see, there are power lines down in the water, and again a tree in someone's yard.
This one, was perhaps the most impressive. It had the street shut down for several days. The root-ball alone had to be twenty feet high. It took out another tree and stretched across three yards, but missed houses and cars. Amazing. My friend Debbie hates the term "Nor'easter." As many times as we heard it, it's hard to blame her. I didn't miss the cable, really, although normally I'm glued to that sort of thing. I love Super Doppler Radar! We've heard the storm made the news everywhere, as far away as Australia. On my walk today even there was still debris everywhere, still some downed wires, and the gutters are still wet.
The forecast for tomorrow? Rain.
Well, it was nothing if not exciting. It reminded me of those days of my childhood when we were waiting for snowfalls. Watching the weather and the skies. We do that here too, only it never turns out to be as bad as they predict. Until now. This was pretty bad.
The lights started flickering (knocking out the cable), and it started raining on my drive into work on Wednesday. In some ways it was exciting. Huge flood gates along the river were closed, and already the air felt heavy with anticipation. It rains all the time around here, but my drive in was hard, and half way through the morning a limb fell on campus, knocking power out to three of our buildings. Callum had to halt in the middle of a spelling test. And that was before it got windy. But the skies felt squirrelly enough for me to tell his teacher that if things stayed the way they were, we wouldn't be heading to school the next day.
Driving home was even harder. My car is solid, but little, and it took all of my concentration to get us down the freeway and through town. Water was high everywhere we went. I had plans with some neighbors for dinner out at the beach that night, and while we weren't willing to give up our plans, we didn't want to make that drive. While we warmed ourselves with company and dinner (okay, and some wine too), the wind and the rain picked up. When we were getting out of the car, and the door slammed back on me, I pretty much called it then. No matter what happened for school, Callum and I were staying home Thursday.
The phone call saying school was closed came around 5:30 a.m. (thanks, guys!). Our local university closed, even the medical school where Neel works, which is simply unheard of. By the time we got up, the street already looked like this. We live in a tidal area, and this happens often. Neighborhoods flood, our neighborhood floods, even during your average, run-of-the-mill thunderstorms, and this combination of rain and wind, had everyone watching the tides. In this picture, our street was already full of water and high tide was ten hours away.
Neel and Callum had to pull the trash in. Trash pick-up was canceled.
Before long, water at the intersection down from our house was hip deep. See that blue car down there? Invariably some bozo will try to drive through and end up getting stuck. Watching this can afford us hours of entertainment.
And this is a few hours later, closer to high tide, but not there yet. I've never seen the water on the streets get this high.
And never this far north of our house has the street flooded. Neel used that tree, in the picture where he and Callum are dragging in the trash, as his barometer. That tree, on a little island, and next to it a little tuft of grass, to measure the rising water. If we kept that little island around the tree, we were doing okay.
And then high tide.
With things floating in cars.
For a bit, it seemed as if things were easing up, and in that brief lull between squalls, some folks got adventurous. But by late evening the winds kicked up even more fiercely. School was called off for the next day, for Neel again too. The lights flickered, and I hurried the soup. They flickered again, and we gathered all the candles. For awhile it looked like we'd be spared, but halfway through Harry Potter #2, out they went. That, for me was the scariest part. The wind howling and the lights of transformers flashing in the distance. We went to bed in the dark, with the wind howling around our heads.
Part two, the damage, will have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid. I have lots to show you.
The wind picked up overnight last night and so did the rain. It whipped around our heads, riling up the trees, now nearly denuded of their leaves, all night long. We're having sustained winds of 30-40 .m.p.h. with gusts over 55. By the time this is done, sometime tomorrow, we'll have over 8 inches of rain. All the schools are closed, even the medical school where Neel works. We couldn't have made it off our block anyway, much less through downtown. Many streets are underwater. High tide is still hours away.
I had a chat with my friend Debbie yesterday about the differences in our essential natures. She prefers clear skies and being out and about, while for me, well, I wish these unchained windy elements that send me homeward would last for days. I can picture her, restless at home, and I bet she's picturing me, happily settled in.
If I've told you this story before, feel free to stop reading.
When we were getting ready to move here, nearly seven years ago now, Neel's future employers flew us out for a visit to see how we liked the place. It was the first weekend of April in 2003. We'd been living in California for almost seven years by that point, and I was looking forward to seeing spring on the East Coast again. No such luck. A Nor'easter blew through that whole weekend, dropping the temps into the forties and whipping the wind and rain into a frenzy. Coming from San Diego, I didn't pack socks. The rental car they gave us was HUGE, and I remember struggling to maneuver it through the parking lot of the local mall to buy a three pack of socks at Eddie Bauer. Every second, I was wondering how in the world I was going to start managing to bundle my cranky almost-four year old into winter coats and boots. Every thing was cold and damp and hard. It's no wonder I sat in the window of our hotel room and cried literally all night long for what I was leaving behind.
We're getting lashed this week, and I love it. Forty-five to fifty mile an hour winds off the coast and four to eight inches of rain over the next three days. Despite the miserable drive into work, I've come to find this weather exhilarating. The trees are whipping outside my window, and already at home this morning our power flickered off and on. They are calling for extremely high tides and floods, and I find myself hoping that we just can't make the treck into school tomorrow. Exhilarating, yes. Best observed from home. It's Winds-day, Rabbit.
The sun is finally shining after a weekend of chill and misty weather. Oh the complaints at the cold! I didn't mind it, really. I must be ready to hunker down for the winter because the gray and damp days suited my mood.
We've been having football food for dinners on Sunday nights and eating in front of the late game. Wings, ribs, quesadillas. This weekend was a perfect weekend for chili. (Hat tip to my dad for the idea.). Add shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream and fritos (and beer), and we're good to go. Hunker down.
Q: Do hydrangea bush bloom twice in summer?
A: Maybe
B. Yes
My week has suddenly gotten very complicated (How is it that every single rental car agency in the area is SOLD OUT? Seriously.), so of course all I can think about are the pools at the Thermal Hotel Visegrad.
On our first day there, Neel had to work on his talk, but Callum and I
put on the fluffy robes that were left in our room and headed down to
the spas where the pools were located. There were five pools in all, if you count the giant indoor/outdoor pool as one.
The Danube is bordered by thermal springs, and one of these springs feed the pools at the Thermal Hotel. The air was chilly that first afternoon, and I told Callum that if it was too cold in the water, I wouldn't swim too long. Duh. Thermal spas.
The water temperature was a perfect 80-85 degrees (although the air was cool enough on that first day that I wanted to keep my shoulders submerged!), and one of the smaller indoor pools was warmed to 95 degrees. It was heaven.
The pools were made entirely of 1 X 1 mosaic tiles in graduating shades of blue and had carefully located benches and crafty alcoves throughout. At random times fountains or jacuzzis would bubble up, creating fun currents and soothing muscles.
After several times of thinking, "It smells so good," I realized that these fountains were lightly scented, and that whenever they went off they released both a torrent of cool water onto the shoulders and delicate scent into the air.
The outdoor pool connected to the indoors through a passageway with a flap. The blue tiles were darker here, but just as many benches, alcoves and fountains...both overhead and bubbling up from underwater.
Also indoors were two still pools (this one at 95 degrees) and the Aquamarine Bar!
This was clearly a place to come and take the waters. Callum and I were often the only English speakers which, I think, added to our relaxation, and there were several people on crutches and many, many elderly men and women. It was not unusual to see two elderly men sitting on one of the underwater benches and talking, as the water bubbled around them, for hours. Also not unusual were the European swimming costumes! Callum asked me at one point, "Momma, why do the men's swimsuits have so little cloth?" Good question, son.
We soon learned that the fountains went on and off in a specific pattern, and this area, which we called the current, was our favorite. The current blew water in that roundabout, creating a... you guessed it, current of water to swim in. All of the thrill of being swept away, with none of the danger. Speeds got quite impressive, if you stayed to the outside wall. Callum and I kept racing, and if you weren't careful, you'd either take over or get taken over by the people around you. As I said before, we were often the only English speakers, but regardless of the language, our experience was common in this roundabout. Giggles and shrieks of delight and sighs of bitter disappointment when it was over.
On our last morning, while Neel was still in talks, Callum and I went down to the pools quite early. The cycle of fountains hadn't been turned on yet, but when Callum and I got into the roundabout, someone must have noticed and turned the current on just for us! Just us two and it seemed to last forever!
This was by far the most exhilarating and luxurious swimming pool I have ever experienced. Some of us, myself included, didn't want it to end.
I haven't decided if European travel is exhausting or exhilarating, and I'm sure that's because it's both. What I do know is that the travel part makes a difference, and I'm totally crushing on Delta right now. Hello, free beer and wine? Three (3) movies? Two hot meals? So even though I'm dragging right now, the getting there and getting back felt totally manageable. And guess what! I'm not a miserable packer. I did a much better job this time. One bag and one carry-on for the three of us (Although I still had this bag, which was one of the best purchases I've made in awhile - it held my camera, a water bottle and Mr. Guidebook, no problem. Callum had his own carry on too. It held his DS, some planes and a few books.) There are still some things I'd change. Neel and I both felt underdressed, and while he took too much, I probably didn't take quite enough. So a little tweak to the ratios and we'll be good to go.
Moonset and sunrise on our first morning in Hungary.
Apparently, I can nap in Hungary but not in America.
Hungarians love swimming. They take advantage of the thermal waters all up and down the Danube, and also build indoor and outdoor pools any chance they get.
The Danube Bend is quite possibly one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. There was no train on our side of the river. but snaking along those hills was a train track, watching its path and the barges make their way downstream was like watching a piece of history.
I may have mentioned this, but Hungarians love their meat. Neel calls this trip the meat parade. Mr. Guidebook says that Hungarians look upon vegetarians "with suspicion," and I believe it! I'm not a vegetarian, but I jumped right in and ate things I never dreamed I'd eat. Heavenly, tender, well flavored hearty sauces. If you're gonna do it, do it well, and they do.
Someone, and it may have been Mr. Guidebook, told me to be sure to "look up." I'm glad I did. The architecture, from Visegrad (our first stop) to Budapest was simply spectacular. Hungary was never on my top ten of places to visit, and now I'm not sure why. We loved it.
The view from our room at the Thermal Hotel Visegrad.
The view from our room at the City Panzio (Hotel) Mathais in Budapest.
Apparently I love having a view. We got pretty lucky in both spots, didn't we? Although I did pay an extra 10 euros for that Budapest view. Totally worth it.
Hungarians still use thatched roofs. These were in a museum, but we saw many average homes along the roadside with their own thatched roof. Apparently they are popular enough that there are laws regulating them now. Like how often you must change the thatch. We saw storks nests in light poles too!
The Hungarian language is nearly incomprehensible to me. Well, to most anyone really. It's most closely related to Finnish of all things, but that's way down the linguistic family tree. They have 20 vowels, the keyboard was tricky to figure out, and their longest word is 24 letters long. When we came back from Greece, I had a smattering of words (Callum had far, far more, and he's retained them. Still, even he got out of Hungary with only "Thank you." Don't ask me to say it.), but I couldn't manage anything linguistic in this land. Most Hungarians speak English, which made getting around quite easy. What you have to wonder is how isolating this must be? And hope, despite the fact that we can't understand a thing, they keep this language of theirs. It's part of them.
Hungarians love soup. I confess, I took a meat break at lunch in Budapest, so we had a cheese plate (The cubes in that top picture are ewe's milk, and that big wedge in the center is butter...fortunately we figured it out before plopping a big chunk in our mouths!) The soup is chilled sour cherry with whipped cream. Nothing else needs to be said.
I didn't knit a stitch.
I read a lot though, finally digging my way through Anna Karenina. Seriously, what took me so long? And how did I go this far without learning what happens to her?
I learned some other things too. We tend to gear these trips around Callum (and therefore how much whining we can handle), so we quite willingly miss a lot: museums, famous sites, things a ten year old may not just lo, in order for everyone to have fun. But there were things I missed on this trip that I wished I hadn't. Hungarian folk art, for example. We stumbled across some at a bookstore on our last day, and I was blown away. I wish I'd had more time to explore it there, but I definitely will explore it more from home.
And I learned that I can always be more adventurous. I did better this time ("Who wants a meaty treat?!"), but Neel is such an easy, relaxed traveler that it's almost too easy to let him take over. I need to get better about that.
And I've decided that I want to move to Europe. Even if it's just for a year. I have Neel working on this, right honey? And Callum said to me on Friday, "Momma, you already have us moved to Europe in your head, don't you?" Ahh, how well he knows me. But what a great experience that would be. I'm aquiver with imagined possibilities.
Apparently if you touch this 200 year old tree on the Margaret Island at Budapest and make a wish, your wish will come true within a year. Of course, I tried to bend the rules and wondered if compound sentences counted. I'll let you know in a year if my wish(s) came true. Following in my Dad's footsteps, Neel tried to get Callum's wish out of him, but he wouldn't budge. But let's think about this. Hungarians love meat, swimming and soup. And so does Callum. I'm betting he wished to go back. I do too.
So we went to Hungary. Neel had a conference, and we felt that Callum just shouldn't miss this opportunity to travel to another country. He's a lucky kid, having now been to Europe three times in his first decade of life.
We decided that the refrain we use when it's time to give our dogs their treats should be Hungary's national anthem. Go meat.
I have so much more to share, and I learned so much (not least of which is that we should have stayed another day), but I'll get to all of that. Once I rest up, do some (!) laundry and slog through the 600 photos I took. Go Hungary, but good to be home.