Perhaps the best gift Katerli received for her birthday was to have glorious springtime-like weather for her early February birthday party. So the smores-making that she promised occurred with jubilation and good spirits. Much whiskeyed cider, malted beer, and charred marshmallows were consumed. And all rejoiced in her anniversary, in the smoky company, in the simple gelatinous treats.
When my friend Ben gifted me with my first road bike (a 12-speed 1980s Velo Sport), I didn't really know how far I would dip into the cycling world. Before I knew it, I found I had outfitted myself with a Chrome bag and a $100 New York-ready chain lock. I was changing my own busted tubes (and patching those that were repairable). But then the weather turned, and I found myself climbing the stairs to the subway more and more. Suddenly, after a month of commuting by train, I decided that the New York winter was mild enough that it was possible to ride to work. It was time to get back on the saddle again.
It's no secret that I love snow. As I've told many an American: Give me 0°F and snow over 35°F and rain any day. Yeah, I'm talking about that same stuff that cancelled my flight and stranded me for an extra 24 hours in New York when I wanted to be visiting with friends in Ottawa. The same stuff that shut down airports and ruined Christmas for hundreds of people continent wide. That stuff fell heavy and thick the Sunday I was in Ottawa. And while I had a whole day that I could have used to go see my country's capital, I chose instead to don my boots and go tromping. It was absolutely glorious.
Due to the insanity that was the last day of work before the holidays combined with the sudden inclement weather-induced cancellation of my New York exit plan, I completely forgot about posting yesterday. Which is to say that this is the perfect time to announce a holiday break from this whole blogging thing. I have not yet resolved whether I will keep this up in the New Year. But perhaps a brief pause will re-energise my spirits. Happy Holidays everyone.
In a fit of brilliance, a friend of a Dory's hosted a night of Hanukkah, Christmas and winter music (performed by a 12-person band), accompanied by frantic food making. Dory was one of the chefs, cooking up sweet potato latkes for our seasonal enjoyment. And after having a little trouble at first getting them to stick together, they ended up turning out perfectly.
There's nothing like popping the Muppets Christmas Carol into the VCR (two childhood memories at once), hands cupping a mug of spiked mulled cider, the air alight with flavours of butter cookies, and being surrounded by good friends to put you in the spirit of the season. I think my friend Emily put it best (in metered verse, no less): "And slowly but surely, Christmas love, it arrived!"
You know it's Christmas time in New York when the street vendors start selling trees. I actually don't mind that these tree stalls take up the majority of the sidewalk; it helps get me in the spirit of the season, especially when I refuse to go anywhere near retail shopping areas of the city. What I don't understand is who are the people that buy the large trees? No one I know (except for those lucky kids in the loft apartments) has the space for such enormous conifers. And surely not in Manhattan.
