A Chocolate Blast From the Past

My husbands' birthday is on February 29^th so of course he gets teased on the years his birthday is not technically on the calendar.  Nonetheless, I asked him what kind of cake he wanted for his celebration this year.  He thought maybe a German chocolate cake.  For some strange reason, my mind swirled back to a memory of a chocolate cake I used to make when I was younger.  Although not a German chocolate cake, I was already set on the plan for his birthday confection. 

When I say younger, I mean much younger.  Before kids…before marriage…before college…before high school.  At the ripe old age of 10, I used to enjoy playing with my friend LuAnne, who was two years older than me.  We used to take turns going to each other’s house.  One of the activities we enjoyed was baking.  We started this tradition at her house using Betty Crocker’s New Boys and Girls Cookbook.  We had so much fun picking out what we wanted to make, and under her mother’s supervision, we learned to bake from scratch.

We learned to measure and pour, beat and stir, blend and frost.  We would double the recipe so we each got to bring home whatever we made.  My mother told me that when I came home from my first ‘baking play date’, she asked me what mix I used.  I responded by asking her what a mix was.  She said, ‘You know, what box did you pour the ingredients from?’  When I told her we didn’t use a box but used flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and some other stuff, she was shocked.  She said her 10-year old shamed her into starting to bake from scratch again.  And might I add that in hindsight I am so glad that happened because my mother is one of the best bakers I know.

When I pulled out my old cookbook a few weeks ago, the cover was held together with scotch tape and the pages were falling out.  I hadn’t used it or even thought about it for years.  I really don’t know what made me think of resurrecting it now, but it was one of my favorites back in the day.  

As I carefully turned the pages, little brown splatters dotted page 97, while a few greasy smudges stated their presence at the top of the page.  These were signs of a well-liked recipe.  I had fun reminiscing through the book of other favorites we used to make.  By the sign of the pages, I would have to say that we liked the chocolate chip cookies, sugar cookies, and brownies quite a bit. 

Cocoa Fudge Cake recipe (on the right)

I followed the recipe to a tee.  As it was cooking in the oven, I suddenly had a horrible thought.  Although I liked this cake when I was 10 years old, I hadn’t made it in decades.  What if what I remembered as delicious at the age of 10 was not so delicious now?  A kid’s taste buds and an adult’s are very different.  To make matters worse, I invited a few couples over after we went out to dinner to celebrate Chris’ birthday with the cake.

I announced my disclaimer before slicing up the cake that night.  Everyone enjoyed looking at the tattered book as I explained the story.  Thankfully the cake was a hit.  I guess Betty Crocker withstood the ages. 

Some fun cakes we used to dream about replicating.

A Stimulating Day

Yesterday I spent the day in NYC visiting two renowned art shows with a stop at the historic Chelsea Market.  With a multitude of stimuli throughout the day, I marveled at the creativity of the artists but also questioned whether freedom of art gives you permission to be politically incorrect. 

This wonderful day trip was sponsored by The Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum in Ridgefield and was attended by RMAC students as well as students from Ridgefield and Danbury High Schools.  The trip was offered for free thanks to a grant from The Aldrich.

We started the morning at The Armory Show, which is a leading international contemporary and modern art fair.  Celebrating its 100^th anniversary, the show takes place in three locations:  Manhattan, Chicago, and Boston. The Armory Show can be credited for the introduction of Van Gough, Gaugin, Cezanne, Picasso, Matisse, and Duchamp to the USA.  

In New York, the exhibition is located on Piers 92 and 94 on the West Side. Many of the world's leading galleries are there to present their artists.  

Student docents who accompanied us facilitated deeper discussions of select pieces as we ambled through the aisles trying to see as much as we could.  We came across a plethora of cardboard Brillo boxes, Andy Warhol style. The plaque invited us to take a box for free.  People started taking them from the stack, only to find their awkwardness walking around a gallery of art to be a conundrum.  Before long, one by one, keys and pens were taken out as people started flattening the boxes in order to carry them under their arms.  

An interesting thought.  I did not favor the idea of bothering with it throughout my day so I did not take one.  I also had no idea what I would do with it at home and my husband might likely mistake it as recyclable cardboard and put it at the curb the following Thursday anyway.  So on we went.

Andy Warhol original

Original Picasso drawing

 There were so many mediums used in the pieces that really brought to mind how creative artists could be.  One artist created two tower-like sculptures using cameras.  One included a material that looked like ice dripping from it while the other sported a hat and purse.  One member of our group joked that they could have gotten their materials from cameras left behind at the show. 

Another interesting piece was a sculpture on a wall, in and of itself was nothing exceptional.  It was when you realized that the shadow created from this sculpture reflected that of a person that you really appreciated the complexity of the piece.  I have no idea how one would figure that out.  Trial and error?  Math?

After a few hours on the two piers, the bus brought us down to Chelsea Market for lunch. What I loved most about this old factory was the atmosphere.  The National Biscuit Company originally purchased it in the 1890s.  They baked many items, including Saltines and Oreos.  

A National Biscuit Company painting is still on the brick wall, along with an Oreo one (below).

Today the site is a plethora of newer ovens offering many items for visitors. In all, there are about three dozen eateries and specialty shops.  As you wind your way down the central hall, you pass old elevators, original signage on brick walls, and a jumble of nooks and crannies. 

One of many specialty eateries included this  bakery.

Although mostly eateries, there were a few places to do some funky shopping.

Our last stop was the Volta Fair in SoHo, which is another platform for emerging, mid-career, and established contemporary artists.  Much smaller than the Armory Show, an hour was enough time to see most of this exhibit.  One of the sculptures that impressed me most was a bust.  I carefully examined it to try to determine if the artist used marble.  After walking around the back of it, I was shocked to see a row of magazines.  Pressed together and carefully carved magazines resulted in a fabulous bust.  That was impressive. 

The back shows the rows of magazines pressed together, the material for the sculpture.

There were of course modern art pieces that we all should admit to saying to ourselves, ‘I could have done that if I had thought of it first.’  For example, nails in a coconut on the floor...  I know I could have done that, but it never would have dawned on me.  Other pieces just made me smile.

Pipes on a floor....

...so why not colorful hoses on a wall?      

I don't know what this piece was titled, but I call it Donut Head.

We were careful not to step on the cat, playing on the floor.  

One artist there made me question freedom in art.  He had many pieces in the show all with the same theme.  Two examples were ‘207 niggas on linen’ and ‘A bunch of niggas in the dark', which you can see below.  Is it okay to use the ‘n’ word if you call it art? 

Then there were pieces that made you think about environmental awareness, like this map of the USA with all our trash, aptly titled Beautiful Disaster.

We thought this was an interactive piece, until we realized the girl was a sculpture.  It was a little creepy, as was the caveman with his arms sawed on the floor.

I think the good tired feeling I had at the end of the day was a combination of hours of walking and also the on-going stimulus on my eyes and brain.  Art is supposed to get you thinking and it certainly did for me.  It always wakes up my artistic juices and makes me pledge to myself to set aside more time to do the creative things I enjoy doing.  The thought and question I will leave you with is this.  Should artists be politically incorrect under the guise of freedom of art?  If yes, does it benefit anyone other than themselves?

Have You Seen My Brain?

Have you seen my brain?  I used to know where it was at all times, tucked neatly between my hair and my chin.  It was reliable and always there for me.  So what, may I ask, have I done to scare it away?

I used to be the most reliable person I knew.  I was punctual and even a few minutes early to any appointment.  I always wrote things down and never missed meeting or appointments.  I was so reliable that sometimes I drove myself nuts.  However, I can’t say this has been the case in the last 12 months.

Lest you think middle age has set in and is what has affected my brain lately, I would like to discuss three possible theories for the missing brain.  First of all, I had surgery one year ago.  Major surgery.  Total knee replacement surgery.  While I don’t think my wonderful surgeon took a detour to my brain while sawing into my knee, I do believe that the anesthesia could have long lasting effects.  This long?  I don’t know, but it is part of my first theory.  Even though I have been off the pain meds associated with the surgery for a long long time; who knows what the effects of that is too? 

The next part of Theory Number One is that I was home recovering for three months, backed up to a two month summer vacation.  Never in my life have I not worked for five months.  Although it was not a ‘vacation’, I did settle into a sort of semi-retirement mode.  Some days my main goal was to shower and do my exercises.  Other more ambitious days may have included a trip to the food store.  All of a sudden, time wasn’t important.  I didn’t even really need to wear my watch.  (Gasp!)  When I did have an appointment to go to, it was stressful to get there on time.  I came to resent the clock.

But the main part of Theory Number One was that I only had one responsibility, not 21.  My accountability was to my knee and myself.  That became my top priority.  The responsibilities of my job, running a non-profit organization, and keeping up with household chores were delegated to others.  I think that once you slow down, it is hard to gear back up. That is why many times when I am on a roll cleaning, grading papers, or running around town doing errands, I do not stop until I am finished, because if I slow down, I go into relaxation mode and then it is all downhill from there.

If you are not buying into Theory Number One as the demise of my lost brain, let me offer Theory Number Two.  My Smartphone.  You may remember a past blog while I wrestled with whether to get one or not; I know my friend Jack remembers the blog well.  Shortly after my surgery, well within the year that my brain has been missing, I decided to retire my flip phone and join the rest of the world with my use of a Smartphone.  With so much time on my hands, I even went to not one, but two classes on how to use it at the local Verizon store in the mall. 

One of the cool features of the Smartphone was its calendar.  How awesome was it to book my next physical therapy appointment before I left the current session, without having to go home and look at a calendar?  I had all the information at my fingertips.  I quickly became addicted and checked my Smartphone calendar each morning to see what was in store for me that day.  The problem arose when my husband insisted I also write things on the paper calendar.  This was always our treated as our Family Bible for events.  If it wasn’t written down, then it wasn’t happening...

The problem was when I returned to real life after five months, I floundered between trying to keep up with using both methods.  Some things got recorded on one place and not the other.  Depending which I consulted in the morning, that could be a problem..

There is one other theory, which is my addiction to Spider Solitaire.  It is a mindless, relaxing game.  I now believe its addiction could possibly eat away at your brain cells.  Hence, Theory Number Three.   Just one more game…just one more game that I win…ok this really will be my last game…  How many of you will admit to being addicted to this or another similar game?  My brain could be spending hours a week doing more productive things, but there may be some validity to Theory Number Three.

I miss having my brain with me in full force 24/7.  I am not sure what has contributed to its AWOL status.  But when you are out and about this week, if you see it in Starbucks, the mall, or hiking in the woods, can you give me a call on my Smartphone?

Delicate Arch

One of the most spectacular natural arches I have experienced is Delicate Arch.  Located in Arches National Park in Utah, it is one of the most photographed natural wonders of the world.  Utah even sports it on its license plate.  To get up close and personal to it, you have to hike a three-mile loop over a rocky surface.  I hiked it alone … here’s why.

The year was 1989, the month September.  We were about one week into our cross-country journey, moving from Los Angeles to New York.  We had our first son with us, at the ripe old age of 17 months.  As we planned the 24-day journey, we tried to find a nice location where we would be on the day of our 4^th wedding anniversary.  Arches National Park ended up being that place. 

We entered the park and were greeted by the impressive Three Sisters formation. Further in we arrived just in time to secure the last open camping site.  After setting up the tent, the three of us took a two-mile hike to Landscape Arch.  We stopped along the way at Tunnel Arch to enjoy a picnic lunch.  

The majestic Three Sisters formation greets visitors at the entrance of Arches National Park.

All we needed for our picnic was a spot of shade.

Our campsite was private, serene, and spectacular!

Later that afternoon, we wanted to hike to the famous Delicate Arch, but knew the little guy wouldn’t be able to do another long hike, especially a longer one with slick rock surfaces.  So we opted for shifts.

My husband hiked first.  When he returned, I turned child duty over to him and set off on the three-mile journey.  Although it started on a wide dirt path, a slick rock surface came next with a 500-foot gain in elevation. This part of the trail was adequately marked with cairns, which are small piles of stone formations used as markers.  All I had to do was keep looking for the next pile to be sure I was following the right path.  Since it was now later in the day, my estimated time of return would be right around dinnertime.  I would hate to go astray and be lost in a desert abyss of rocks and arches, beautiful as they were.

No one else seemed to be hiking towards the arch at the same time I was, so I seemed to be on my own.  There were a few cairns that were confusing, but before long I seemed to be nearing the top.  This is where the rock path surface narrowed to a width of about three feet, complete with a sheer, steep drop off.  I had to stay focused on the trail and not the golden sunlight amplifying the desert and canyon views. 

All the waiting and walking paid off as I turned a corner and finally embarked upon the most magnificent sight, which remained hidden until the end.  It is hard to explain just how majestic the arch really was.  It loomed about 60 feet up toward the clouds.  I just stood and stared, taking it all in for the first few minutes. 

To my comfort, there were other people at the arch, mingling around its base or sitting and reveling in the peacefulness of the moment.  Some, like me, were also trying to capture a photographic memory.  The sun was fairly low in the sky, bringing the vivid red rock color to life.  Unfortunately, scanning our slides to digital images lost a lot of the fiery red color.

Other visitors relaxing under the arch, being careful not to roll off one side or the other.

I was careful as I walked around the base of the arch, from end to end, because next to the arch was a natural bowl-shaped rock amphitheater formation, delving perhaps a few hundred feet down. Picture a sculptor creating a deep, round clay bowl.  Now widen the top, keep the rim lines, and paint it red.  If I fell or rolled in, I am not sure how I would manage my way of the slippery rock surface.  This made for delicate walking around the top rim area, no pun intended. 

Looking into the 'bowl'.

This was such a peaceful and beautiful experience that I wanted to stay there for a much longer time than I did.  However, since I didn’t want to hike back alone in the dark merely hoping to spot the cairns, I set back after about an hour.  I arrived to our campsite happy and in time to enjoy our macaroni anniversary dinner around the campfire.  This was a very special anniversary indeed.  

Although Chris had the earlier shift while the sun was higher in the sky,
he stopped the aperture down to F22 to create this starburst effect.

Our tent at night taken with a long exposure, making the stars look like shooting stars.

Finding Yogi

Back in 2004 when our school district had a mid-March winter break, our family did something unusual, at least for us.  We split up.  My husband went north to ski with our older son while I went south to Spring Training in Florida with our younger, baseball-loving 13-year old son.  It was a success from everyone’s point of view.  

We stayed at the Radisson Bay Harbor Hotel in Tampa, which is where many of the Yankee players who don’t have their own homes down there stay.  Plus, many of the old-timers who come to spring training stay there.  We had a row of bright white baseballs in boxes waiting to be signed.  Like everyone else, we were hoping for some big names too.

In addition to a day at Busch Gardens and a day trip to Sanibel Island, we went to a total of four baseball games during the week. Two of them were at Legends Field in Tampa, and the away games were in Clearwater and St. Petersburg.  Yankee autographs were difficult to come by, but the other teams were more generous with the ink.

Legends Field, Tampa, Florida

Yankee John Flaherty, one of the more generous players, signing for Kevin

Back at our hotel was really the time to be scouting around for autographs though.  Whether we were at the pool, the restaurant, or in the hotel lobby, there were many people coming and going.   We were always on the lookout with new balls and a felt tip in hand.  We knew that many of the old-timers, including Yogi Berra, were staying at the hotel.  Although we hoped for good luck and good timing, the week went by without running into Yogi.  

On our last day, we were in the hotel gift shop killing time after breakfast.  I decided to go up to our room to do the last bit of packing.  Our son said he would be up in a few minutes.   Five minutes later he was frantically beating at our door.  “Mom, I think Yogi is in the gift shop!”  he struggled to get out.

I grabbed a new ball and a felt tip pen and I think I locked our door behind us.  By the time we got back to the gift shop, as you might guess, no one was there.  We walked out to the lobby and must have had that ‘I just missed Yogi’ look on our face.  A nice man asked us if we were looking for Yogi Berra.  He told us he just went down the hall into the restaurant.  Ah! There was still hope.

Lest you think we would stalk him while he was eating his scrambled eggs, my quickly formed plan was to go upstairs and get the luggage, while our son remained vigilant in the lobby waiting for Yogi to finish his breakfast. 

After 45 minutes, it was clear that we were going to miss the chance.  We had to leave for the airport to make our flight.  I went out to the parking lot and pulled the rental car up front.  When I came back in the lobby, I saw our son talking to Yogi and signing a ball!  I could barely act quickly enough.  I pulled out my Nikon and asked if I could take a photo of the two of them together.  He said yes and posed.  After I took the photo, his wife Carmen, went up to him, brushed his arm, and told him to take another one and to smile this time.  Needless to say, in the second shot, he was smiling.  The question is whether he was smiling because she reminded him to smile, or whether he was smiling because she was ‘bossing’ him around.  Either way, we got the shot of a lifetime.

Shot #2

We couldn’t believe our luck.  We spent a whole week in the hotel, going to games, and scouting the perimeter.  Then in the last 60 seconds of our stay at the hotel, we get the autograph and a photo.  As Yogi says, ‘The game isn’t over until it’s over.’

Sunset near Tampa, Florida

Pick your battles

I am sure that all of you would like to make the world a better place.  If it were up to you, everyone would listen to your opinions, beliefs, and wishes.  After all, even though your opinion is your opinion, you obviously feel it is the right one or you would change it.  However, unless you want to be in a state of conflict your entire life, you have to learn to pick and choose your battles.

Let’s run through a fictitious but possible day.  You start off with a pit stop to your favorite coffee watering hole on the way to work.  Someone ‘steals’ the parking spot you were waiting for.  You want to get out of your car and yell at them that you were waiting for that spot.  You want to secretly key their car after they enter the coffee store.  But you do neither.  You enter the café, in line after them, and let it go.  Of course your mind races through what you want to do, but you take the high road.  This is not the battle you choose to start your day.

Back in your car, you proceed to work.  You are stopped at a traffic light and the guy in the car behind you keeps honking his horn.  You check the light but see it is still red.  You are in a straight OR right turn lane.  You happen to be going straight, so you can’t proceed.  It’s obvious Mr. Impatient is turning right.  You want to get out of your car, walk back, and educate him, but it is not worth the effort because the light will turn green while you are arguing with him.  So you move on.

Yes, these are little scenarios, but ones that you consciously or unconsciously choose to let go.  What about some slightly bigger ones?  Let’s say you don’t agree with something your boss says or does.  Okay, let me rephrase that; you don’t agree with many things your boss says or does.  But if you value your job, you can’t choose all of them to call him on, even though you know you are right.  You need to pick the one that most impacts your life at work, act on that one, and let the rest go.  After all, that’s what co-workers and lunch breaks are for, to release your frustrations to others who understand.

What about family life?  As partners in a relationship, roommates, children, or parents, you could probably spend the better part of your day battling or correcting others.  You want justice to prevail in situations where someone has been wronged. In my opinion, our need to battle others is the strongest when we are protecting our children or loved ones.

I was fortunate enough to learn this lesson early in my parenting life.  I refer to this as the Yo-Yo Story.  Our younger son had a fancy new yo-yo he brought to school when he was in 3^rd grade.  He was in early for school for some reason or another; I really don’t remember that part.  But the kids had to wait in the front hallway before school began.  When he got home from school that day he was upset that an older boy took his yo-yo to try out, and when the bell rang for school to start, the yo-yo was not returned to him. 

 Clearly upset, I reacted.  The next morning, I went in to talk to the principal.  I relayed the yo-yo injustice play-by-play.  New yo-yo, his indoor recess toy gone, older boy, no right to steal it…  She listened politely, and then quietly told me I needed to start to pick and choose my battles.  Those were not her exact words, but she basically told me I needed to back off even though I thought it was unfair that my son lost his new yo-yo by an older boy.  I couldn’t keep up with every injustice an 8 year-old experiences.  Life was not fair and I needed to let the smaller things go.

I knew I was a protective Mama Bear, but I guess I didn’t realize how much so until a professional fellow educator whom I respected, had the guts to give it to me straight.  I am sure it was not easy for her, given that I am a teacher as well as a parent.  But she said what needed to be said, and it was a break through for me.  

(Just an aside…today that would be labeled as ‘bullying’ and the boy would be found and reprimanded…ok, now I will let it go!)

I used her advice as life went on.  Raising two sons provided such joy but it also had its teachable moments.  I referred back to the principal’s advice and made conscious decisions which battles to choose.  Length of hair?  No.  Time of day they did their homework?  No.  Snide remarks made in a heated state?  Hard one, but usually no.  When it came to the important stuff, the boys knew it was important and they would be held to task, even with their ifs, ands, and buts.

During parent teacher conferences, I often share the suggestion for parents to pick and choose their battles.  Perhaps it doesn’t really matter if they don’t read 30 minutes at night anymore if they are getting an A in English.  Maybe it is ok that they do their homework with music playing if they always have it done completely, correctly, and on time.  I agree that their handwriting is atrocious, but if I can read it, then let me be the bad guy who tells them to re-write it.  Parents can battle all day long, but that is not a formula for a good relationship with their child.

So as you go about your day today, why not make a mental note of the battles that you pick and the ones you let go.  Are you picking too many?  Not enough?  The right ones?  Only you can say.  But conflict brings stress and anxiety and we can all use less of that.  Report back if you have any revelations.

Customer Service

We all have our share of horrific stories about awful customer service.  Hours on hold, incompetent employees on the other end of the conversation, and getting disconnected only to have to start all over again are just a few of what we have all probably experienced at some point or another.  Allow me to offer a recent experience with a large food chain that ended up being anything but horrific.

While shopping in Stop and Shop over a month ago, I noticed the store was out of the brand of coffee k-cups I generally buy.  The following week they were also out and I also noticed the shelf space that generally housed them was no longer there. I went on to the Stop and Shop website to investigate.   For those who are wondering… yes, I did have extra time on my hands.

First I tried to search for the coffee by name.  ‘Sorry, no matches were found’ came up.  I realized that meant they were no longer carrying the item, but sent in a question anyway.  Stop and Shop has 355 stores in the Northeast.  I knew I would not get a response back, but because I was annoyed they discontinued my coffee, I felt they should know.  After all, isn’t customer satisfaction what stores are supposed to care about? 

Imagine my surprise when I received a response.  Not only was it a response; it was a response from the manager at the local store where I shop.  (It did ask me to identify which store I shop at during my email to them.)  Here was his response:

           

            Hello Linda, my name is (I deleted the name) and I am the store mgr at the Lake Ave Stop and Shop. I received your email regarding the Grove Square coffee. I'm sorry to tell you that the item has been discontinued from the warehouse. I did locate six packages for you if you would like to have them. If you would like to pick them up please let me know. Thanks for being a Stop and Shop customer.

            (First name)

Well blow me down!  Not only did I get a personal response from a person with a name, but he also somehow dug up six more boxes for me!  I responded back how pleased I was and that I would definitely like the coffee but would not likely be back there until next week.

            No problem Linda.. When you come in ask for the manager at the service desk. The coffee is in a bag in my office with your name on it.

Thanks.  (First name)

Awesome.  Now I didn’t have to make a special trip to pick them up.  When I did my weekly shopping the following week, I went to the service desk and tried to explain to the employee on duty what I needed her to retrieve for me in the manager’s office.  I saw this might take a few minutes, so I told her I would shop for my produce and return in a few minutes.

A different employee was now behind the service desk with a brown paper bag, about the size of what would contain six boxes of coffee.  He was on the phone, so I waited patiently even though I just wanted to take the bag, put it in my cart, and continue on to the checkout line.  But being the proper person I am, of course I just waited and smiled. 

After the phone was returned to its cradle, the employee began to scan the first box of coffee.  I asked if I had to pay separately here or if I could just take the coffee and pay for it with the rest of my order.  When he told me there was no charge for the coffee, I naturally assumed he thought I pre-paid for it.  When I told him I had not, he said that the coffee was to be given to me for free which was why he had to do the transaction there.  I was truly speechless.  If you know me, that doesn’t happen often.  I must have thanked him three times, but of course I was going to follow up with another email to my new manager friend at Stop and Shop.

I have been a Stop and Shop customer for 23 years.  Although I am reminded from time to time that Shop Rite is cheaper, albeit further from my house, the convenience of Stop and Shop wins out.  It is nice to know that when you are a loyal customer, that sometimes you are rewarded in little ways.  It is those little gestures that go a long way.