Tuesday, October 21, 2014


We're lucky peeps, lucky to have old friends far and wide, lucky to have a crucial friend, who hosts said far-and-wide peeps every year.

He calls it Octoberfest, but I like to extrapolate and call it "Bruce's Party". To be contrary. And belligerent.

The next morning . . .

What? We weren't hanging around taking photos during the party . . .

Oh, wait. Yes we were . . . .

photo credit: buzzie

Well, Buzzie was.

credit: buzzie

These peeps all graduated from Norwalk High School -- Home of Pride Intensified -- about 175 years ago. *Way* before Denise and I did. Three years after they did.

At least we had the youthfulness of the daughter of our illustrious hosts, to keep us from toppling off the edge of the earth.

Anyway. The next morning.

It's nice up there, in the northwest part of Connecticut.

Connecticut is a wee state, but the northwest part of Connecticut is about as far away as you can get from the southeast part of Connecticut, and still be in the same wee state.

We leaf-looked . . .

. . . we're leaf-lookahs.

. ..  and we had a spectacular ride home in the Westy but we were too busy driving to take photos then. Safety first, my friends.

But in the meantime, we got a good dose of Fall . . .

Mistah bonded with Doggie . . .

Aw, Doggie.

And most importantly of all,

Class of '81 rocks.

Monday, October 20, 2014

see C cook

This morning on the way to school when I said "Oh crap, I think I was supposed to blog this morning," my daughter immediately replied: "write about ME!"

She immediately recanted the offer, citing numerous examples of embarrassing behavior on my part when it came to my internet hijinx.

Sorry babe. This one's for you:


cooking with cdog

When life gives you rotting bananas, there's really only one thing to do...
Pull out the tried and true and tasty recipe that first came from Beth

Then find yourself a weirdo helper chef and suit her up 

She remembers that her grandfather always sported a towel on his shoulder when cooking

First, measure the butter carefully, and make a precise cut

eh, close enough. Something was distracting her....

Hmmmm. Look what's being erected in the next room....

Nevermind that. It's time to measure the sugar! With a gravy ladle.

Again with the precision!

Busted in the act of "cleaning up" the sugar.

Ooooh, this is getting really tall.
And look, there are prisoners! And intruders!

But never mind that, it's time for the best part!

Details, details.

Now the second best part!
Hmmm, this reminds me of another recipe....

Meanwhile, this thing is almost to the ceiling!

And this bad boy is almost to the oven!

Missions accomplished. Now for a grand finale:


Friday, October 17, 2014

The big 7-o

So yesterday was the day. The day my mother became a septuagenarian. (Omg, was that spelling hard to get right! Maybe I'll be smart enough not to have to look it up when I become one.)

Like all birthdays after the age of 42, apprently (a blog post for another time), they are bittersweet. A combination of, yay! I've made it another year, and oh no, another year has come and gone, and they all seem to be going faster and faster and faster. And, well, they aren't unlimited like are returns to the all-you-can-eat buffet in Las Vegas, nor are they without their sometimes unwanted physical changes.

But this is not that kind-of post. No! This is all about properly celebrating my mom at an intimate little family gathering.

After a quick stop at the cupcake bakery and grocery store for, well, cupcakes and Shirly Temple makings on the way home from the busstop, we were ready.

The Champage was chilled, the minimal apps prepped, the ballons tied up, and presents wrapped.

And all the most important people were there. My mom (duh!), and her bestie, Ariel, who is in visiting from Florida to help celebrate properly all week long, as well as me (duh!) and my girls.

Happy 70th, mom!

Let's do it again for your 80th! xoxo