Teacher Appreciation Week has come to its end. Thanks to the efforts of the high school’s parents and students, I was treated to yummy goodies for the past days. (The Greek-inspired, catered lunch was a stand-out.) It never hurts to make a positive fuss over teachers and staff members.
I have been doing some reflecting this week.
I stand in awe of all those who were my teachers so many years ago. I stand in awe of all those who contributed to the education of my three children. And I stand in awe–and fervent admiration– of all my co-workers over the past ten years, because the profession of teaching has undoubtedly become more challenging than ever. (And is “profession” even the right word here? Perhaps “passion” or “calling” is better, based on the people I know. No one’s in it for the money, or the glory.)
I am weary, this Friday afternoon, but I am grateful for my colleagues over the past decade. I am going to miss working with them. I hope each and every one felt a little bit more appreciated this week.
Wet the rim of a margarita glass with a lemon wedge and then dip into smoked salt. In a shaker half-filled with ice, combine 1 ounce mezcal, 1/2 ounce simple syrup, and 1/2 ounce lemon juice. Shake and strain into the glass. Add about 3-4 ounces of chilled hard apple cider, until the glass is full. (I used Schilling’s Local Legend, a semi-sweet cider made by Daughter’s former employer in Washington State.)
Listed on the menu: Yes, as “Cuvee Single Cask Old Fashion”
Ingredients: Courage and Conviction Cuvee Single Cask Whisky, Raspberry Syrup, Chocolate Bitters
The occasion: After waiting patiently for warm weather, spring vegetation, and a date that we were all free, our little group of friends headed out to Virginia Distillery Company, just a short drive south of town. We had all tried the distillery’s products before, yet here was an opportunity for flights and cocktails and side-by-side comparisons, all while basking in the sun and admiring the scenery.
My rating: ***** out of 5. The cuvee cask whisky (yes, the distillery spells it the Scottish way with no “e”) is aged in European red wine barrels that have been shaved, re-toasted, and re-charred, so imparting just enough of a sweet fruity flavor. I wondered if the addition of the raspberry syrup would make the drink cloyingly sweet, but this was not the case. The fruitiness was subtle; whisky was definitely the main flavor. This cocktail had a luscious mouth-feel and a pleasing color, and was easy to sip.
Final thoughts: I wish this distillery were a little closer to home. Then again, a forty minute drive with good company does go by quickly.
Listed on the menu: No, only the two preferred cocktails of the newly-married couple were listed on a sign.
Ingredients: Makers Mark bourbon, simple syrup, angostura bitters, orange peel.
The occasion: The wedding reception of M & A. The ceremony was held in the nearby Italian Garden, and Maymont Park was in full glory on this warm and sunny afternoon. The bride was gorgeous and glamorous, and the groom was ever-so-dashing. (I will never forget how the groom lifted and then dipped the bride during their first dance. So romantic.) Such a joy-filled day!
My rating: **** out of 5. I asked the senior bartender to make me his best Old Fashioned, and he replied, “I am not putting a maraschino cherry in. I don’t have Luxardo cherries, either, so I hope that’s OK.” It was fine, I assured him, since I don’t care for maraschinos. He was generous with the bourbon. He twisted an orange peel to get a few drops of oil and then rubbed the peel along the rim of the glass. This guy knew what he was doing. And kudos to the caterers for using real glassware, versus plastic.
Final thoughts: What a memorable wedding! Happy guests, incredible food, quality drinks, decadent desserts, enchanting flowers, fun music, all on a lovely terrace overlooking the park. (At one point, we guests spotted a bison down below. I’ve never been to a wedding with a bison…) Best wishes to the bride and groom!
Backpacks on the front of the body. The backpack, by definition, is worn on the back of the body. Is wearing it in the front more comfortable? More stylish? More secure? Surely this cannot be good for anyone’s posture or health.
Belly-button bling. Alas, still a thing.
Socks and flip-flops worn together. Socks keep feet warm and dry, but flip-flops keep the feet cool and can even be worn in water, ostensibly. So we are at cross-purposes here, right?
Knit caps, hoodies, and shorts, all worn concurrently. So, these kids are preventing heat from escaping from the tops of their bodies, but not from the bottom halves. This is not logical. And before you, dear reader, think, “Oh, maybe these students are layering their clothes for those cool spring mornings,” let me stop you. They are not. Those caps and hoodies stay on all day.
Long-sleeved, high neck, midriff-exposing tops. Yes, Ladies, show off those flat stomachs while you have them, but why aren’t you also showing off your toned arms, or your lovely, non-crepey necks?
Tube tops. I don’t want to be accused of shaming anyone’s body, but let’s think about comfort and support. Some of the better-endowed girls are sagging and then yanking at the edges of the tube tops. This is annoying to the rest of us.
Micro-shorts. These will undoubtedly ride up butt-cheeks and yanking may also occur. It’s not a pretty sight when you are walking behind the students in the long hallways.
Fleece-blankets worn as capes. Is this for warmth or for attention? Are they going for a superhero vibe here, or simply being a Linus?
Starbucks iced coffees, clutched in hand as an accessory. I would mind this less if the students weren’t tardy to class since the line at the drive-thru was so long.
Sequined tops and/or shiny metallic dress shoes. Granted, the lanyard I wear daily is glittery, but I am almost four times older than these kiddos, so I have the poise and confidence to carry off this look. I do, I really think I do.
Flesh-colored leggings with short tank tops. No, please, no.
Listed on the menu: Yes, as “1881 Old Fashion” (sic).
Ingredients: Four Roses Bourbon, Aromatic Bitters, House-Made Porter Syrup, with an orange peel and a maraschino cherry.
The occasion: When I learned that my son and his fiancée were traveling to my sister-in-law’s home for the solar eclipse, I promptly decided that we needed to join in the fun. Happily, my sister-in-law and her husband were sweet enough to accommodate all of us, so I started planning our trip to Indianapolis, which was in the path of totality. How fortunate for us all! I wanted to break up the nine-plus hour drive with an overnight stop along the way, and perhaps a bit of sightseeing. Chillicothe, Ohio, seemed like a perfect location, since we wanted to see the Leo Petroglyphs and to tour the Westcott House (designed by Frank Lloyd Wright) in Springfield, Ohio. Chillicothe’s charming historic district had several interesting options for supper and a drink.
My rating: **** out of 5. I picked this restaurant since it advertised thirty beers on draft. I was not surprised, therefore, that this cocktail used beer in its signature house-made simple syrup. The deep porter flavor plus the always-lovely Four Roses bourbon made the drink taste rich and almost creamy. I would have awarded an extra star, however, if the bartender had rubbed the orange peel around the rim and if the cherry had not been a maraschino.
Final thoughts: We really do need to visit more small Midwestern cities. Downtown Chillicothe, for example, contains lovely architecture and fun places to eat and drink at very reasonable prices. (Full disclosure: our first stop of the evening was a bar called “Steiner’s Speakeasy” and I paved the way for this Old Fashioned with an award-winning margarita made with Mexican-street-corn-flavored simple syrup. So good. Seems like Chillicothe’s bartenders are creative with simple syrup!) Oh, and the total eclipse of the sun? We had clear skies and a clear view. Worth the trip for this once-in-a-lifetime, breathtaking event.
We have a new roof! It’s been almost a month of waiting for estimates, for insurance authorization, for a slot on the preferred roofers’ calendar, and for a non-rainy day. At 7 am this morning, the weather forecast looked promising, so the crew arrived. I chose to stay in the house, but maybe I shouldn’t have–those men worked for hours as they stripped the old roof, repaired the numerous holes left by the fallen tree, and added brand-new shingles. A cloudburst at about 2 pm did not slow them down, thankfully, although I fretted about their safety up there. (The gutter crew comes tomorrow, weather permitting.) Needless to say, there was consistent hammering, heavy footfalls of the six guys up there, and the occasional THWUMP as a crew member moved a stack of shingles to another location. Noise, there was so much noise! I didn’t like it! And there were so many vibrations, which even caused pictures on the wall to tilt and glasses in the cabinet to clink together. It was a long, long day, but now, as I write, I hear a thunderstorm approaching, so I am grateful the roofers worked so quickly! I promised myself a drink at the end of it all to soothe my nerves.
Of course, Dear Husband had to go out of town on business, so I am drinking alone. He hopes this is his very last overnight business trip before his retirement, and I don’t blame him. I don’t blame him one bit! He was scheduled to arrive at his final destination at 1:30 pm yesterday, but Mother Nature had other plans which resulted in major flight delays and re-routings, so he arrived at his hotel room at 1:30 am. Yup, a twelve hour delay. It was a long, long day, indeed.
Last week I made candied grapefruit slices, since I had purchased too many grapefruits that I stopped eating when I realized they did not sit well with my allergy medications. I was left with a small jar of grapefruit simple syrup, so I put it to use today.
Husband is not home, as I said, so this drink (loaded with fruit, right?) serves as my “salad” for today. I think my supper is going to be Easter leftovers. Truly, the only good part about being home alone is that I don’t cook at all.
In a lowball glass, stir together 2 ounces of vodka with 2 ounces of grapefruit simple syrup. Add fruit, ice, and maybe a Luxardo cherry. Stir and enjoy.
OK, I will admit it. I am green with envy this St. Patrick’s Day, because Dear Husband is in London and I am not. Granted, he is there on business–the last international trip before he retires. The conference doesn’t start until tomorrow, so today he wandered over to Trafalgar Square, where he discovered that many people in England were wearing green and celebrating. Then he found a floating pub on the Thames and snapped photos of the London Eye and Big Ben while he sipped on a Guinness.
OK, and I am also feeling sorry for myself, because I could have been there with him. He has been to England on numerous occasions, and even took me along in August 2010. (I loved it.) I wanted to go with him again, and I even started making reservations for afternoon tea and for excursions to Stonehenge and to Cambridge. I even booked an airbnb in Wales for us for next week.
Then I cancelled everything, absolutely everything, since the trip status became tentative and stayed that way until last week. I didn’t want to risk losing the money spent on deposits and airfare. And then we decided that someone needed to stay home to babysit the tarp on the roof (see previous blog entry).
This St. Patrick’s Day is even more special to me, since now I have fond memories of last year’s vacation in Ireland. In fact, the last time I had an Irish coffee (prior to today) was at the airport right before we left Dublin.
So I needed a drink today. Stonehenge, Cambridge, and Wales are now on the retirement bucket list. I have high hopes of getting there in the next few years. And since Dear Husband won’t be working, we can take the time, even, for a nice train ride to Scotland, since I hear they know a little something about distilling…
To 1 cup freshly brewed hot coffee, add 1 tablespoon brown sugar and 1 1/2 ounces Irish whiskey (I chose Jameson’s since we toured their facility in Dublin, and because the Red Breast bottle isn’t yet open). Stir well. Add whipped cream on top, if you prefer, but if you are avoiding lactose and calories (like me), you may froth some almond milk in a separate glass and gently place several tablespoons of foam on top of the coffee.
Slainte! Special thanks to my son for the gift of the “potato fairy” doll.
Late last Sunday morning, as we were sitting at the kitchen table in our pajamas, and chewing on homemade waffles and slurping down caffeinated hot beverages (curse you, daylight savings time!), we heard a crack and then a “kaboom!”, which made the entire house shake. I think we both jumped up and shouted “Tree! F***!” at the same time. We ran toward the back bedrooms, because we were convinced there was now a gaping hole where a wall used to be. Amazingly, everything looked fine, so we ran outside and saw a 60, maybe 70 foot tall white pine, which had toppled from the edge of the property, sprawled across the entire roof of our ranch house.
Fast forward to Monday morning. A tree company we had used years ago put us at top priority, and by 8:15 am, a crane (!!!) and an industrial-sized chipper/shredder were parked at the end of our driveway and the crew got to work. Once the tree was lifted, the damage was revealed. Yes, the roof was punctured in ten places, but no other structural damage was found. Our savior was the maple tree in front of the house, which broke the fall, so to speak, of the pine. The maple sacrificed a few major limbs, true, but it’s proven to be resilient. In fact, back in May 2000 when a microburst hit the property, the very same maple was “decapitated” and its limbs blew out windows in our mini-van, yet the tree lived on. Its shape isn’t pretty, but this maple is now my favorite tree on the entire property.
And now for some advice. Always have a rainy day (or in this case, rainy day followed by gusts-of-high-winds day) fund, if you can. Keep the money in a checking account that also works with PayPal or Venmo or the like. So when an emergency happens on a weekend, and/or if the company helping you prefers a check, and/or if the insurance company is swamped with claims and can’t get to you for a day and a half, at least you can proceed with the first steps to take care of the situation. Once we retire and the paycheck income gets replaced by pension income and/or Social Security funds, I think having a generous rainy day fund will be absolutely necessary for my own peace of mind.
Meanwhile, the blue tarp is keeping the water out of the attic, the insurance company has been very cooperative, and we’ve signed a contract for installation of new gutters and an entire new roof with a 25-year warranty, which will definitely outlast our stay in this house. Silver lining, I suppose. And this is still less–even adjusted for inflation!–damage than we sustained during the previously-mentioned microburst, but that’s an even longer story. Most importantly, we are physically unharmed, thank goodness, but maybe still a little shaky.
This drink is also called “Maple Leaf Cocktail”. In a shaker with ice, combine 2 ounces bourbon, 1/2 ounce pure maple syrup, and 1/2 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice. Shake well and strain into a glass with a cinnamon stick. Stir well, to get more cinnamon flavor.
He was a middle child. He had two older brothers, then two (maybe three) siblings who died in infancy (probably of scarlet fever, he once told me), two younger brothers, and then a baby sister.
His mother never knew who her parents were, since she was handed over to be raised by a foster family who were paid–initially–for her upkeep. Some of his siblings believed their mother was an illegitimate “love child” from a wealthy family, but he preferred to believe that his mother was given away in order to save her from persecutions being inflicted on Polish nobility by the occupying Russian Empire.
His peers, during his early teenage years, called him “Philosopher” because he enjoyed reading, learning, and sharing information.
He saved his younger brother’s life by swimming into middle of the Vistula River near Warsaw and then pulling his brother to shore. However, the only reason the brother was in the river was because he and his buddies dared the little brother to go into the water.
He started smoking at the age of 16, and quit cold-turkey on the eve of his youngest daughter’s birthday. (She was 6? 8? I forgot.) Definitely the best gift ever. Then he became addicted to Wrigley’s Doublemint gum.
He was 16 when the Nazis invaded his beloved Warsaw. He witnessed so much destruction and pain. Toward the end of the war, he was being held in a Nazi prison camp in an old castle in Lublin, in what is now eastern Poland. He experienced profound hunger, body lice, and getting teeth knocked out by a Nazi guard’s rifle. He heard random prisoners being executed, and prayed he would be spared. In the 1970s, he returned to Lublin to see the castle, even though he was trembling and in a cold sweat, because he wanted to face the demons still giving him nightmares. (I think it helped!)
While in prison, he was savvy enough to pick up key phrases in both Russian and German, and was often called on to translate the orders the Nazis would bark at their prisoners. He believed his language skills earned him a slightly better level of treatment, since the guards needed him. Also, he could ask the German kitchen workers to ladle his daily ration of soup “from the bottom” where the heavier chunks of food were, versus “from the top” which meant only broth.
His German skills improved even more from 1945-1950, while he worked as a military policeman at a US Army base in West Germany. He also started learning English and started wishing to emigrate to the USA. Eventually, a Catholic priest in Cedar Lake, Indiana, sponsored him and helped him settle in Hammond, Indiana.
His loyalty and patriotism to the USA was just as great as his Polish pride. He hung an American flag by the front door for every legal holiday. He had amazing vocal skill and a lovely baritone voice, and frequently was asked to sing both the American and Polish national anthems at community events.
He also wrote skits and poems for Polish community events. He loved to perform on the stage, and sometimes even involved his daughters. (I can still recite some of those poems.) For years, he kept a Santa Claus costume in a trunk in the basement.
He was not given a middle name by his parents, so he eventually added “Adalbert” which is the English-language name of Saint Wojciech, which was also his father’s name.
While still a bachelor in the 1950s, he visited France and Italy. He met a French girl or two (had some photos to prove it) but I only heard about how breathtaking Rome was, especially St. Peter’s Basilica.
And while a bachelor, he managed and sometimes played in a community soccer league. He was a fan of all the Chicago sports teams, and his favorite players had Polish surnames. In 1976, he travelled to Montreal, Canada, so he could see some of the events of the Summer Olympics. He managed to score a ticket to a track and field day, and witnessed both Polish and American athletes winning gold medals.
A buddy from his time in Germany, Frank, invited him to come to Hartford, Connecticut, for Easter 1958. Frank was hosting a dinner for some single Polish girls. One of these girls was your grandmother, who told me she was attracted to the guy who was singing in the kitchen. She also thought Frank was attracted to her, so becoming a competition of sorts between the two men. Well, you know who your grandmother picked. They were married in late January 1959.
When your grandmother arrived in Hammond shortly before the wedding, tongues wagged. Surely this was a shot-gun wedding, since it was so rushed. Well, the oldest child (me!) was born two and a half years later, so do the math.
Even though he was gregarious and enjoyed being the center of attention, he also valued the peace and calm of days spent fishing. He even bought a special travel case for his poles, which he took to Poland for a reunion/guy vacation with his brothers in the mid-1970s.
Besides fishing, he also enjoyed singing in choirs, riding his bike around town, playing his electric chord organ (by ear, since he never learned to read music), growing vegetables in his garden, and doing crossword puzzles. And he never “cheated” and looked at the answer key, but instead looked for answers in dictionaries, encyclopedias, and atlases.
When he learned that I was pregnant with the first grandchild, he told my husband, “You better make sure it’s a boy.” After living with a wife, two daughters, and even a female dog, he wanted another male in the family. Happily, the first of two cherished grandsons was soon born, but looking back, his abundant love for his three granddaughters was evident.
Husband and I both need to submit retirement applications in April, so we decided that this dreary, rainy Saturday afternoon would be the perfect time to sit down and look at matters. We each brought out our respective manila folders (yes, some of us still write things down on paper!), pulled up some websites and spreadsheets, and started taking more notes. There are so many decisions to make, especially for Husband, who has been the (by-far) primary breadwinner. What is the optimal day of the month to retire? Do we want full survivor benefits for me? (Duh, yes.) Should we both start drawing on Social Security at age 67, or do a 62/70 split? How much life insurance should we keep? Whose IRA will we touch first? Is the portfolio balanced well enough to account for inflation? And so on.
Needless to say, about three hours later, I needed a drink. My head was swimming, and I needed to relax. Our discussion will continue until final decisions are made, and I know we will re-visit our manila folders time and again.
Tonight’s cocktail is also called the Lillet 50-50. Combine 1 1/2 ounces of gin with 1 1/2 ounces Lillet Blanc in a shaker with a few cubes of ice. Shake well, strain into a Nick & Nora-style glass, and garnish with citrus peel.
Monica Lists 