ALECIA STEVENS

Loving the Present Moment

2012-01-16T21:27:00.001-06:00

A few months ago, I was with my mom. She is 81 years old. In 2011, in April, she lost her mother who was 100 years old and two months later, in June, she lost her husband of 60 years, my father. It was a year of loss for her and for us. The most difficult thing about my father's death was knowing how much my mom would miss him. She does.

We were looking at old videos a few months ago (after his death) of Mom and Dad on their travels during their 50's and 60's. They had an RV and LOVED to "camp" with it. They tended to go either north or laterally across the country. This is, of course, a puzzle to me. Why you go north when you live in Minnesota, I do not understand. But they did and they cherished their time on the road. They went to Alaska, to New Bruswick, to DC, to Boston, to the North Shore and Ely. They went to nearby little parks and the Mississippi River to watch the eagles. They LOVED their RV camping.

Seeing Mom and Dad in Maine on the ocean, emotionally overcome by the strength of the waves, I was silent in the their experience. I have lived on the ocean. I love the ocean. I never, ever knew my parents to go to the edge of the earth and play in waves and welcome the tides. But I saw it on the DVD. They were in their mid-60's - just retired. It made me weep to see them so happy and carefree - like children, really.

Later, Mom and I were talking about our life (mine and Lee's) and, really, how good it is, how full of adventure. Yet, not without its own challenges.

Mom said, "Yes, you are so lucky - in the prime of life."

I have not forgotten it. We tend, as we age, to long for the past. To wish for the body and face we had when we were 25, the mental agility we had at 30, the confidence at 40. Later, we wish we had the body and face we had at 40.

I once heard Oprah say something like this, "When you look in the mirror, love yourself. In 20 years, you will wish you looked just like this again!"

How true!

Lee and I are in the prime of life. And, when I am 80, I will remember what 58 felt and looked like and wish I felt and looked like that. So, why not now? Why not just WISH, EMBRACE, LOVE that I am 58 and love how I feel and look? And for all my dear friends who are hovering at 40, considering botox, wishing for the body they had at 25, trust me! You can't imagine how great you look, how smart you are at this age. Love yourself.

Sometimes, I can do this. But, not always. I'm workin' on it.

Music (Magic) on Four

2012-01-12T21:53:00.000-06:00

The setting - you can't beat it.

Abbie Gardner of Red Molly plays her steel guitar with bassist Craig Akin at Music on Four,
a house concert on the Upper West Side. Lucky us.

It was one of those evenings - touching. Made so by a talent that is exclusively human - the ability to make music with an instrument. Then, add the human voice - pliant and lilting, blusey and melancholy.

We went to one of our favorite little (emphasis there) venues - Music on Four. Friends Ihor and Marisha sponsor these knock your socks off house concerts - ALL ACOUSTIC - with up and coming (usually) younger musicians. Ihor is like evangelical about supporting these artists - and it is quite wonderful to be there with 40 other aging hippies and assorted 30-somethings in an apartment on the Upper West Side that is a flashback from 1972: the Peace light, the macrame plant hangers, posters, art - I think there are beads going to the bedroom.

But it couldn't be more fabulous. Food, drink and live music for ..... DRUM ROLL .....$20! And all of it goes to the musicians. Then he gets you to buy the latest CD, which of course you want to do; I'm playing mine now. You can't get a glass of wine at Bemelmen's for $20, let alone music and food. You can't even get a conversation there because you can't hear.

Tonight we heard a "trio" that Ihor advertised as the the Super Session - songwriter / singer Abbie Gardner of Red Molly, Pete Kennedy on guitar (ok, wow) of The Kennedys and bassist Craig Akin (wow, again) They all seemed to have the night off so got together to play here. Lucky us.

For Red Molly, think Dixie Chicks if they lived in New York in the Village. Her music has that lovely American roots sound - folk / country / blues mix that makes you either tap your foot and hoot or cry. Check out the song "Hope" on her new solo album, "HOPE."

I don't know much about the Kennedys or Craig Akin, but I'm off to learn. Sweet dreams.

Pete Kennedy

Red Molly - Abbie Gardner on right

360 Gallery - This Saturday

2012-01-12T17:33:00.001-06:00

Over the past two weeks I've been working with Lee and his / our web designer to launch his website and happily spreading the word about his first workshop / retreat at the end of January. So many people / friends / clients have responded and will be there. I am going to feel like it is MY party - not his.

He just keeps saying, "Jeez, Alecia, you have cool friends."

He's right.

That is the prelude to this post. I've been honking his program, and as a nice German-Norwegian-English girl, it isn't nice to toot your own horn, so I have shirked my responsibility to spread the word about an opening at Gallery 360 this Saturday 7 - 10. (If you have Tevo and can tape the Tebow-Brady matchup at the same time on Saturday night or if you can even stand to WAIT to see it!)

Merry, the owner of the inspirational 360 Gallery at 3011 West 50th (50th just east of Xerxes) is having a reception to open a new show of artists. Well, I am one of them. MOI! There are 5 artists in all, I think.

I can't quite believe it, but she really liked my photos from Italy and wanted to show them, so who is to refuse that? She helped me select two especially for the show - and this woman has a really amazing eye. She saw things I never saw in my own photos. And she passed on photos I thought were good. I LOVE what I learned from her.

So, just tell me what to do, what to print, what to frame and hand me a stack of postcards to mail out (which I haven't done), write up an artist's statement (which I haven't done) and show up on Saturday night looking artsy. I can do it.

SO - I guess this is another be there or be square. Show up for some wine, food, art and some really good jewelry if you are in a buying mood! I SWEAR by her jewelry. Then go home and watch the taped version of the Tebow magic.

Hope to see you!

Chillin - but I'm not very good at it.

2012-01-08T18:35:00.000-06:00

Photo I took in Venice Beach, CA, Sept 2011

I've been talking about this for a month. Chillin'out. It was the subject of my holiday card. But, I wasn't feelin it. I was the opposite of chill. I was anxious, annoying, high maintenance, stressed. I pretended to be chill over Christmas, but I see photos of myself and feel like I look like I just got out of plastic surgery, my face is so distorted and tight. Lee was ready to put me in a straightjacket on Friday because I'd had a week of technological meltdowns (dead computer, new computer, dead printer, new printer, new printer that didn't work, another new printer, newer printer that still doesn't work) and I was ready for a drink at 1:00 p.m. on Friday. I had a meeting at 1:30.

Yesterday, we came to NY. I had to miss last month's trip because I was too busy. Too stressed out! I seem to LOVE identifying with being stressed. Like, being uber busy is a measure of my value. I have to admit, when Dad said, "You are such a hard worker," that is the HIGHEST compliment we could get from him. So, I / my sibs have this thing: you just can't work hard enough.

But, what we didn't learn in my family is how to re-fuel. If there was work to be done, it always came first. What I've learned when you run your own business is that there is ALWAYS work to be done. Now...do hear this: I LOVE my work. But, I've also learned that can make it harder to stop for the re-fueling! Oh, I just love creating those quotes. Oh, I just love pulling fabrics for a new project. Oh, I just LOVE looking at my books for ideas for that kitchen project! At 2 in the morning, I sometimes wake up and look at my books.

Here's the point: It may be that loving your work makes it even harder to take time to re-charge. It may be that having the father I had makes it harder too. I only remember two (2) vacations in my entire childhood! (And one of them was related to my dad's work.)

So...we get to the airport and Lee and I start to make jokes and laugh. I am laughing so hard I am crying kind of laughing. I began to let go.

Then we get to our apartment in NYC and it is 60 degrees so after the schlep to the 4th floor, we dump the bags and get out to walk Central Park without so much as a sweater! I am in awe of the beauty of the city in mid-winter in this "heat-wave" - people everywhere, running in tank tops and shorts, bikers, baby strollers, walkers. I let go of even more.

Today, we had Alexander and Jessie (my son and his girlfriend) over for football and food. I love this apartment so much because it is so concise. I have what I need and nothing more. It is 450 square feet with 11 foot ceilings and beautiful light.

We went to the market for the perfect vegetables for lunch, came home, and I got to work as Lee settled in for Wild Card Sunday. Zan and Jessie showed up, planted themselves on the sofa and in the leather chair and we spent the next 6 hours talking, grazing on appetizers, drinking cappuccini, eating lunch of spinach, leek and feta quiche, then popping the wine at 5:00. It was like the perfect salve for my wounds - to spend the day with my family in a place where I couldn't go tuck off into the corner of my office, a web that both entices and ensnares.

We laughed.

When they left at 6:30, I passed them a $20 to help cover the cost of a cab. "No, you don't need to do that, Mom," Zan said.

"Let me put it this way. Here's $20 to get the snowboard that has been under our bed for 3 1/2 years back to Brooklyn. Take it in a cab." They took the $20 and the snowboard with hugs, more laughing, and good wishes.

Now, Lee and I are settled in to watch Denver play the Steelers. That Tebow magic! Wowser. Well, for now, I am finally chillin' like I was preachin' in my Christmas card. Finally. Hallelujah, Tim (Tebow.)

Lee's New Deal: A Call to Inner Fitness

2012-01-05T21:11:00.000-06:00

Dear Friends,

This first week of January 2012, my husband, Lee, launched his new consulting practice, The Center for Imaginative Action.

This idea has been gestating for years in him, eight of them actively, while he was in graduate school at Pacifica Graduate Institute, one of only 2-3 schools in the country that acknowledges the role of the unconscious in the academic study of psychology. Isn't that nuts!!!!! Most psychology programs have become scientistic. We are no more than random atoms and biology. Ugh!

As a man who, in his 20s, worked with a celebrated Jungian analyst, Helen Luke, a psychology with "depth" is the one that captured Lee's imagination years ago. In September, many of you know he received his Ph.D. in Depth Psychology. His Center for Imaginative Action will be a place of retreat for those who find themselves on the cusp of change, for those who know it is time for re-invention, for those who seek meaning, for those looking for what Lee calls "inner fitness."

He will work with groups, business, couples, and individuals. He is especially capable of working with those facing unwelcome change and suffering. He is also an amazing friend to parents (with his many years as a Waldorf teacher , grades 1-6) who may need support in a world that often seems too grown up for the magic of childhood.

Long story short....at 60, he's jumping off the cliff (again) without a net.

This leaping skill is one we've honed together, by hook or by crook, over almost 19 years and, although, not without risk, we've learned to trust the invisible world that carries us along these winds of change ( most of them welcome, some of them more challenging.) At least monthly we hear, "We want your life." Or, "We want to be like you two when we grow up." We work for ourselves, love our work, live in both Minneapolis and New York and spend one month a year in Italy. It is a good life. We are so happy to be role models, but we never forget that "this charmed life" required choices, a certain attitude about life-long learning (including time living apart) a belief in the magic of the human spirit and one's calling, vision, and hard work. It is not the safe approach to life. But it is incredibly satisfying. This is what Lee will teach people how to do.

To start, he is presenting his unique approach to creating the life that you want in the Introductory Retreat on 1/28/12 in South Minneapolis. It is called (Re)Imagine Your Life.

Of course, I adore him and think his work is worthwhile. But, I include this on my blog because many of you have given me the privilege of getting to know you in a personal way and think you might appreciate and benefit from his work, or know someone close to you that would. Couples are especially welcome as lifelong learning (especially together) is one of our highest values.

If, in this New Year, you feel the winds (or hurricanes) of change rustling about, Lee may be a guide for you or for someone you love. It will be a fun day with cool people! I'm not missin' it.

Here is a flyer for his first event. His website is www.imageact.org.

Cheers - to a bright, courageous new year for all of you!

Alecia

New Year's Purging

2012-01-02T20:49:00.000-06:00

Weare in that annual purging mood. It is painfully annoying to those who preferto spend the holiday chillin’ and drinking vino and watchin’ old Seinfeldepisodes or even worse, old Star Trek! (You know who you are!) But, US, we areall about purging and getting it together. So we tore apart every drawer andshelf and nook and cranny in our main living area. Lee even went to the storagein the basement and dug around for artifacts from the past. Then, we had aRITUAL BURNING.

We were just goingto throw out the 12 bags of garbage we created, but realized that it would bepretty easy to steal our identities (which could be either not that interesting or rather profitable, depending on how you ran with it.) We don’t have a shredder, which we suddenlyrealized might be a good idea. I said, “I wish we could just burn it.”

Then, we realized that we could! We have a fireplace. So we spent an eveningdoing a ritual purging. We tossed lots of old, unwanted, unwelcome paper intothe raging fire and toasted more than once to the future - and a big fatgood-bye to the stupid past.

Whew.It felt so great.

Highlyrecommended!

510 Bar: Asleep.

2012-01-01T21:21:00.001-06:00

La Belle Vie Lounge at 510 Groveland. Asleep. 10:00 a.m.

I was at 510 Groveland the other morning and tucked into the empty bar. I love it at night - seems Lauren Bacall might just show up in flowing palazzo pants. Now, I see it is quite magical in the morning light, too. Couldn't resist this - the paper cones over the bottles amid the classical mouldings.

Merry Christmas, Everyone

2011-12-25T11:45:00.001-06:00

From our sunny apartment filled with the smells of the fir tree, warm pepper cheese biscuits, the sounds of 4-year old Miles scooting along the floor boards with his new wooden train from Santa and the counter top bursting with ingredients for two bountiful pans of lasagne, we wish you all a Merry Christmas.

May I keep my eyes on the light that shines even in the darkest days.

alecia

Monochrome

2011-12-04T19:35:00.001-06:00

Lake Harriet in living color.

Along the pathway.

This weekend, I walked Lake Harriet twice. Yesterday, I was with my sister, Holly, and as we began our walk around the grayed December lake, ice forming like glass along the shoreline, trees barren, like iron weapons threatening the sky, a bald eagle swept before us and took perch on a branch. We were star-struck.

He was smaller than some I've seen, but elegant as always. He poked around, looking for food in the water below, then launched into the sky, swooping and diving, a potent brown and white and gray. Just the colors of the surroundings.

Today I walked with Lee and took these photos.

I love the color of these days. It is difficult to be INSIDE a home on a day like this, but exquisite to be OUTSIDE living within it.

This is the color palette that just makes my heart soar. I can imagine walls painted the white of the snow, wooden floors the color of the trees, a little worn, silk velvets or mohairs for a sofa the color of the water and silk pillows the color of the brush along the shoreline. I would paint the ceiling the color of the sky - milky blue gray. So, so divinely inspired.

What to look for in a guy....

2011-12-02T21:06:00.001-06:00

I have a new theory that debunks some of the old ones....you know...marry rich, marry "up", marry a man who will take care of you...

Having lived through the last 18 years with a man who had less money than the man I was previously married to, who was socially and educationally an equal - not my superior (okay, now he's more highly educated....Dr. Stevens), who only "took care of me" for about 3 of the 18 years we've been together....the rest of it we've shared the responsibility...I would HIGHLY recommend that you look for this in a guy:

Find someone who believes in you. Find a man who sees your talent. Find a man who knows who you are when even you don't know. Find a man who is never threatened by your success. Find a man who insists you support yourself. Find a man who only wants you to love how you spend your days. Find a man who doesn't let you make excuses and live for long with doubt - because he doesn't doubt you. Find that man.
Then, return the favor.
You will have more than you need, more magic, and more happiness than you can imagine if you live the life you were meant to live with the support of someone you love and who loves you back.

That's what to look for in a guy...

you know you are in trouble when...

2011-12-01T20:28:00.001-06:00

...someone says, "I can tell you must be busy. You haven't been blogging."

Yikes. It's true. Good news. Bad news. Life is full.

so... I am going to run something old. I've been helping Lee with some copy for his website and promo material and very much in touch with Depth Psychology (which is a HOT topic with the opening of several artistic pieces - the broadway play "Relatively Speaking" by Woody Allen, Ethan Coen and Elaine May = which we saw and is hysterical!, the new movie about Freud and Jung called "A Dangerous Method" - god knows when it opens in MSP - it opened in NY and LA last week, and the death of James Hillman which brings his work to bear on the gestalt of it all.) Okay back to the point. So I am thinking Depth Psychology and yet am too busy to write because my days are filled with furniture plans and fabric samples.

But, here is a piece I wrote a five years ago and it is still meaningful to me. I continue to believe we must "go down" to find ourselves - go "inside" not out. So... here you go: hope you enjoy. This is as good as it gets when I have to go quote a living room for a meeting tomorrow.....

Zan, standing, center with lifelong friend Oliver sitting at left.
Top of Highland Bowl in Colorado a few years ago.

The context: I am in the middle of reading a book by aJungian analyst, Robert L. Moore, which is knocking my socks off. It is called The Archetype of Initiation (subtitled Sacred Space, Ritual Process and PersonalTransformation). Sounds suspiciously esoteric, I know, but I have beeninterested in Jung’s work for some time and especially the roles of myth andritual in our lives. Moore’s position is that the need for ritual is hard-wiredin humans. We will seek it, for better or for worse, in an attempt to manageour inborn grandiosity, which is overwhelming to us, and to find our place inthe cosmos.

My twenty-year old son, Zan, sentme this photo by email from a trip he had just taken to Colorado with a groupof friends. Story has it they went to the top of the run and then walkedanother hour up the mountain, often careening narrow paths to reach thispeak. Zan stands in the center here. Theyoung man sitting on the left, Oliver, has been his best friend since they werein first grade. They all seem to be looking around, as individuals, not as agroup in this moment.

I don’t see just a bunch of guystaking a break on the mountain, preparing for the next run down the mountain. Isee sacred space and young men creating a ritual, a tiny little hero’s journey,proof to themselves and each other that they are worthy…with the mountain peaksencompassing them, nowhere to go, but down.

Our infantile grandiosity carriesus toward the heavens. It’s called “the Icarus complex.” But a maturing soulknows the real journey for a human - not a god - is down, deep and internal.And so, we create rituals that test us and carry us to our depths. Some take physical form. All activate ourpsyche and soul. Even though this ritual may be unconscious in this moment, itis rehearsal for a later test, a greater one.

I love this image. How innocent andunwitting our youth…yet, how divinely inspired it can be. For me, even inmid-life, there are still mountains to descend.

Little Changes make a Difference

2011-11-21T18:53:00.001-06:00

I had to take some photos of my apartment in MSP today for someone who might want to rent it for a week or two. Once they landed in my iphoto, I noticed how simply things have changed, but that little changes make a difference. Here are the images with notes.


Here, I added the chinese garden stool - really just bought it thinking a client would like it - it is so practical and affordable! It only worked once I re-hung the photos with the white matting. Before that, the stool was too white for the room, but now I think it adds a modern touch. they come in multiple colors. Also am happy with the dried hydrangeas in something that resembles Christmas colors! Maintenance free, too!

There is nothing I like better than books as accessory. I also like a 20" square pillow with a smaller kidney pillow (13 x 20) on top of it - not standing at attention like soldiers!

What a simple thing - a spray of orchid.

....or branches. These have lasted over a month!

The good bones of our apartment filled with lots of vintage and yes, some Room & Board.

Colorful New York

2011-11-20T18:30:00.001-06:00

ABC -- these wonderful overdyed old rugs made into furniture.

The hot chili peppers at the Greenmarket at Union Square

Brussels Sprouts - aren't they amazing little creatures?


Yarns available from a sheep farmer! Greenmarket Union Square

Lee on the elevator to the High Line

This past Saturday, we acted like New Yorkers, heading out earlyonto the city streets with dear friends Tami and Frank McCann visitingfrom Charleston. (St. Tami and St. Francis are the two who have hostedIsabelle in their Charleston guest house for the last few months untilshe moved ito her own apartment this week.) Frank is a New Yorker bybirth and, although he grew up in Ohio, he returned to NY for college,was a NY cabbie and generally loves New York City- its grit AND itsgroove.

We headed first to ABC - Tami and I have along-shared passion for fashion and design and she had never been toABC. We agreed to meet Lee and Frank near the door in a bit over anhour to check in. Well, we never made it off the first floor! (She isstaying the week and will go back.) Gary Graham's incrediblysophisticated clothing, their cut, the fabrics kept us transfixed forat least 20 minutes. We didn't buy a thing but marveled at his ideasand happy to know his things were mostly made in NY - his work is alily in a field of schlock made in China.

We onlyimagined how and where we might find spots for a chic line of furniturethat ABC creates from vintage rugs that have been over-dyed - but allin modern forms.

Tami's taste for vintage jewelry wassated when she found a pair of old silver earrings with carnelian fromAfghanistan, circa 1920.

I mostly catalogued ideas forclients, from the beautiful hand-painted bird pillows on wool felt forjust about anyone to an ottoman for Meg in just the right teal.

Thenwe walked to the Farmer's Market (or Greenmarket) at Union Square and,here, on a mid-November day with rusty leaves dangling from near-nakedtrees, with golden Ginkos shimmering like crepe paper, the mostbeautiful display of vegetables, breads, pies, cheeses and meats arestill available. This is the lovely advantage of the latitudedifference between Minneapolis and New York. Fall lasts a month longerand Spring comes a month earlier!

We then went to Eataly for lunch on the 15th floor - open air - at the birreria. On the way out we saw this (okay....cute) cheesemaker pulling mozzarella!

Finally, off to the High Line, which I am ashamed to say I have never visited. Great little architectural tour of old Chelsea and Meatpacking Districts.

Then, we went home to nap.

Random Images and Feeling Zippy in NY

2011-11-15T19:43:00.001-06:00

Back in NY and feeling for the first time in the full 3+ years we've lived here that I belong here. I got to the apartment, dropped my bag, had the laundry delivered and then hit the streets to get to Holly Hunt before it closed to pick up some things from the lovely Anna Hillegass for a client. I just felt zippy. Zippy getting on the train. Zippy getting into a cab with Anna on the way home. The cabby dropped me at 81st and 3rd while Anna headed farther uptown for an appt. Just zip-zip.

Back to the design district AGAIN today to pull a few more things for my meeting at 5 today. In the groove.

Of course, that probably means tomorrow I will definitely NOT be in the groove. That's life, isn't it?

But, for now so appreciating the resources at my fingertips. Life is good. And here are some things I saw this past week that I liked.

Aren't clouds cool? From my airplane window this week.

The hand rolled cocoa dipped truffles from Broder's for our flower party.

Mary Hickey's talent for display - at our flower party. Isn't this just right?

Embroidered linen napkin. The good life.

Monogamy

2011-11-07T20:46:00.002-06:00

I had a late meeting - got home around 6:30. We had planned to go out since I knew in advance my schedule. We decided on Pizzaria Lola - a once a week kind of place for us. Their "Ma-Sharoni" homemade fennel sausage and Iowa pepperoni is just divine. (I'm not even much of a meat eater.) We each get a salad; I get the beet / goat cheese / arugula and Lee gets the Hook's Blue Cheese and mixed greens. Then we share the Ma Sharoni. And tonight they had Surly Darkness on tap! Yikes is it good!

Well, on the way there, I brought up that I might want to try something new. I said, "Ya know, all that pork fat - it's probably not even that good for us. And, besides, I just kind of want to try something else."

He said, and I am not kidding...."Honey, that's what monogamy is. You stick with the program."

I guess ya gotta love a guy who makes you laugh. He has a thing about certain foods. When he loves them, he loves them. And I love him. So we had the Ma Sharoni!

Here are the teeniest tiniest pictures of the salad and pizza, from the website. Check it out at Xerxes and 56th. Family city! Go early or late to avoid the crowds.

Beyond Middle Age

2011-11-05T21:55:00.001-05:00

I bought a St. John knit jacket today at Nordstrom's.

jeez.

I feel like I should have a a Dallas zip code, and a marble entry with columns and a very large diamond on my finger with a husband who is 80, balding and who wears bow ties. And I would probably have really puffy lips because I've had them "enhanced."

I am only able to live with myself after this threshold event because at the same time I bought a super cool ankle length Theory dress which I will wear with Fiorentini and Baker biker boots (once I get back to NY to buy them.) Now I really have to buy them to prove I am so not over the hill.

.......but I desperately needed a 3-button black jacket that fit properly. I like to wear my jackets without a blouse / shirt beneath - just buttoned up. And the only one that fit that bill was the St. John. OMG - and it stretches! It is sooooo comfy!

Here, below is the Theory dress I bought. It will be even cooler with boots. (Like Angela Missoni in the last Veranda. Long skirts and biker boots - her look - and she's in her mid-50s!)

Whew. Just a little too close to that Dallas deal, though.

Theory Dress I bought - NOT to go with St. John jacket!

My favorite bootmaker - Fiorentini + Baker.

A Writer's Challenge

2011-11-03T23:56:00.000-05:00

Dr. James Hillman
founder of Archetypal Psychology
Director of Jung Institute in Zurich in the mid-20th C,
but asked to leave because of his "radical" ideas

James Hillman, the founder of Archetypal Psychology and one of the depth psychologists from the lineage of Freud and Jung (and way back before that......to Plato and Hericlitus) died today - of bone cancer, like my father. He was 85. Hillman believed that the soul needed a voice and that it speaks to us through images - in dreams, in architecture, in culture, in our madness. He was a maverick in the world of psychology and loved it that way. He wrote a book whose title I just love, We've Had 100 Years of Psychotherapy and the World's Getting Worse. He also wrote the beautiful The Soul's Code and Revisioning Psychology.

So, as Lee's work follows in this lineage, we toasted Dr. Hillman tonight. He taught a few of Lee's classes, during which Lee was always enlightened and he donated his library to Pacifica. Tonight, I dug into some of his books for "light bedtime reading." Yikes. He is not an easy read. But Revisioning Psychology started with this great quote from the Spaniard Ortega y Gasset; Hillman had it in front of him as he wrote Revisioning Psychology. I present it as a challenge to all of you friendly writers out there; it was so powerful, it catapulted me out of bed to my computer to write this post.

"Why write, if this too easy activity of pushing a pen across a paper is not given a certain bull-fighting risk and we do not approach dangerous, agile, and two-horned topics?"

-Ortega y Gasset

Indeed. I've been playing it safe.

What needs to be written?

Rest in peace, James Hillman.

New York Moments: Week of 10/24/11

2011-10-30T11:28:00.005-05:00

Ralph Pucci with guest - artists against back wall after a photo op.

Lee and Andrew Flesher - tucked behind the mobiles.

Carpeting in a Park Avenue apartment I visited this week. Channeling Diana Vreeland - so awesome!

The single piece I covet from this trip. Daybed from the fabulous antique shop DEMIURGE, the lastest incarnation of Amy Perlin's work. After Amy's sudden death last year, her niece took over the 4th floor space in the Interior Design Building and EDITED Amy's collection beautifully - and surely added her own touch.

Cabinet seen at DEMIURGE

Table and vase of greens - always inspiring for me

Well, it's hard to top running smack into Paul McCartney whistling on Madison Avenue. But, life must go on and we did have yet another great week in NYC, though it went too fast. I didn't get either to Central Park or the Metropolitan - which seems shameful. I did work and saw wonderful things and new ideas for clients. We ate out several times on this trip, attacked the problem of mice in the apartment, found the missing linen pillowcases which had me ranting for a day and saw friends and children.

A highlight was joining Andrew Flesher and Anna Hillegass at the opening of a new art exhibit at Ralph Pucci. I didn't even know what we were going to, but just tell me Ralph Pucci is throwing a little shindig and I'm there. He's such a chic, smart "older man". Not a 30-something mover and shaker, which I am getting sort of tired of these days. He's just the king of taste in New York. He does art and he represents furniture lines and his furniture collections are just phenomenal - Ecart, Paul Mathieu, Andree Putnam, Vladimir Kagan, Jens Risom.....on and on. And, then he makes the mannequins that are so amazing. He's got his hands in a lot of pots and has the most beautiful light-filled warehouse on West 18th filled with all these disparate, but somehow connected collections.

Lee pointed out that he thought his suit was gorgeous (navy and white pinstripe with white shirt and strong solid red tie - very custom Italian looking. But, why was he wearing brown suede shoes? Seemed too casual for the suit. My response.....I don't know, but if Ralph is doing it, it's worth considering the idea.

So, here are some scenes from the week in New York. It was beautiful, autumnal, golden and sun-shiney. New York in the fall is sublime.

Star Siting in NY

2011-10-23T19:39:00.001-05:00

Sir Paul McCartney and his new bride. Getty Images

I was out this afternoon around 4:30, lounging at my favorite and maybe the most expensive book shop in the country on Madison between 81 and 82 (Doyle Books - this is another post.) I got a text from Lee, "Honey, if you can get some tonic, that would be great." I purchase 2 books and the new 2012 Zagat for New York. I hike north up Madison to the nearest grocery, stop at Jonathan Adler on the way for a client. Buy the tonic, milk for cappucino. Heading south home, my bags are heavy - filled with hardback books, milk and bottles of tonic.

It is a perfect late October afternoon. The sun is low. The temperature is just right for a sweater or a light jacket, boots, a scarf. I love looking at New Yorkers. I love to see how they dress, how they speak (and then realize the best dressed are often European AFTER I hear them speak!) Somewhere near 82nd, I saw and knew immediately - Paul McCartney and his new wife. Well, I wanted to text someone the news, but thought I'd turn around first and check them out after we passed each other.

Well, he was whistling! That was cute. He is still darling. But, I have to say, their jeans were not good! They were both wearing jeans. He wore a navy blazer with his (with gold buttons, maybe?)

From the back, it was not a winner! I'm just saying...not judging really. BOTH of them had jeans that were WAAAAAY too washed out! She was bird-leg thin! Tall and thin. Not in a good way, necessarily. But she is quite pretty! He had too baggy, white=washed jeans! Ladies, this is a warning! Don't let your husbands go out in jeans that are too bleached and toooooo loose in the tush!

I came home and told Lee all about it. I said, "Honey, I would take your tush any day over Paul McCartney's. But, I would happily take his bank account." He couldn't disagree!

BTW- she was holding his arm and they looked quite happy with some shopping bag in hand. Can you imagine being Paul McCartney????

How does this work?

2011-10-23T14:05:00.001-05:00

Jessie and Zan in our apartment this past summer. Just arrived from two years in
Houston TX with Teach for America.
This is Jessie's first winter EVER north of the Mason Dixon line.

Lee and I took a later than usual flight to NY on Friday afternoon to spend a week here tidying up the apartment, doing some shopping for clients, seeing friends, seeing art and hoping for an evening with my son, Zan, and his girlfriend, Jessie. We caught a 3:15 flight out of MSP to La Guardia. I texted Zan and Izzy - as I always do - fearing that it may be my last communication with them forever....nutty as I have been about flying in the past and not wanting to challenge the travel gods.

I knew that Zan and Jessie were going to Florida for a friend's wedding for the weekend, so we were planning to check in about getting together one night this week. Both new teachers in a tough public school in Brooklyn, they have unbelievably long days (rising at 5 a.m. every day and prepping every school night for the next one), it is hard to find time to get together during the week. But, we are happy to head to Brooklyn to make it easy on them - and fun for us!

I thought about them as we were just coming in over the water at LaGuardia - that sweetness you feel for even your grown children, knowing how hard it is to make it in the world, but so touched that they are giving it their best shot. I actually thought about seeing them at the airport. But, they live closer to JFK, so of course that is where they would fly out of - my logic told me.

We land right on time, get off the plane and are noticing the new "bar" near the gates where we arrive from Minneapolis - kind of cool - snacks, drinks. "This reminds me of something you'd see in Amsterdam," Lee says.

"I get it," I agreed and turned around to see it again.

Just at that moment, Lee started back toward the gate. He'd heard his name. I suddenly heard a kind of happy roar from him. There he was giving Alexander a big hug with Jessie standing by sort of on her toes in glee. I could hardly get words out without tripping over them. There I was on my toes, too. (Which I need to be to hug my 6'1" son.) Jessie and I did that stupid squealing thing, but who cares? I was so happy to see them.

In a city of 9 million - how does this work that you run into your kid? Just the one you wanted to see at that moment? How is it that their gate is the one next to our? How are they boarding as we are arriving? Without talking about any of it in advance?

Such a happy example of Dr. Jung's synchronicity and intuition. The rest of the weekend has kind of followed suit.

I'd Like to Introduce You to.....www.brownink.co

2011-10-20T21:12:00.001-05:00

My friends Nick and Wendy Brown have,with impressive thoughtfulness, now published their new blog "BrownInk" www.brownink.co (that is CO - not COM.) It is a blog that celebratesthe hand-written word. I know from personal experience that Wendy practices what she preaches: always writing a thankyou, sending hand-written invitations and sending a birthday card bypost!

Ijust read the first two posts on her blog and got that lovely slightly wateryfeeling in my eyes and warm fullness in my heart. (I see that Nick has posted overnight now.) It just seemed so right toread something longer than a TWEET! It is a brave thing to celebrate thepatience it takes to put your thoughts in writing, to have a thought longerthan 140 characters. It is courageous to admit that the short form online "journal"is not the same thing as the diary at your bedside, and, as such, it is not herthing. It's not mine, either. Not wanting to create a regret, bothof us strive to those Virgo values of caution and authenticity, creating home,warmth and a sense of place and relationship for those we love. (Our birthdaysare one day apart.)

Itis sometimes terrifying to write without a place in an agent's queue, without a publisher for the novel or the manuscript. It is just you and your heart on display. Iadore you, Wendy Brown, and cheers to your new adventure!

www.brownink.co

A Love Affair with Elfa

2011-10-16T21:55:00.001-05:00

Elfa Shelving added to my falling apart wall makes it suddenly transformed!
I've had it sitting in a box for 4 years. I have commitment issues.

The cleaning supplies sat on 5" shelves circa 1924, ready to slide off the tilting shelves at any minute. Now they are organized on the back of the door to the basement! I was channeling my father as I installed it myself.

This is a little weird. I've been kind of sick, but something - or some spiritual energy overtook me - and I am possessed to get organized. On Wednesday this past week, a friend installed the Elfa shelves over my stainless table in the kitchen. They have been sitting in boxes nearby since 2008, after I saw how great and functional they are at my friend, Carrie's. But I had some fantasy about actually fixing up my kitchen - like the walls - so I kept waiting. Well, I just got it that I will fix my walls when I fix my walls (like when and if we decide to buy this duplex or at least our apartment) and not before. Still, I need the shelves! There is NO STORAGE IN THIS KITCHEN! It is a 1924 apartment and there is only ONE drawer and ONE door of undercounter storage. The overhead stuff is mostly useless as it requires a ladder.

So, after being completely overcome with joy at the function of the new shelving, I decided I needed it in every aspect of my life. So I spent today going to Container Store to find a solution to the disaster that was my cleaning supply storage - it was a feng shui nightmare to open the door to the stairs, head through the hallway to take out garbage and have a can of Comet hit you in the head as you walked passed. So I purchased all the supplies and the tools and went about installing the shelving on the back of my door. This included taking the door off its hinge because one hinge got completely messed up. I replaced the hinge and re-hung the door - I swear I was channeling my dad who could all this and much more. I felt like Super Woman.

In the mean time, either Lee or I have been sick for the past 2 weeks so we haven't been very cuddly. Well, it finally seemed time, but he fell asleep and I kept thinking about the bathroom closet, so while he slept I snuck off AGAIN to the Container Store to find a solution to the absolute disaster that it was. It was so bad, that I discovered we EACH had 4 different deoderants - 8 total! They had been lost in the closet for so long. we just kept buying new ones.

This is very very sad, of course. When you finally get a moment for love, and you sneak off, instead, to the Container Store, hoping for some divine interlude with an Elfa salesperson.

I came home, organized the closet and then quickly made a pot of chicken stew and apple crisp to make up for running off to the suburbs to shop. It was the least I could do. But I am so happy to have this all organized. I feel so Virgo. Besides....Lee had a full day, too. Here is what our TV screen looked like at 1:00. And he's still watching.

Our TV screen at 1:00. Not one game, but 8.

Pot of chicken stew / soup.

Haralson Apple Crisp with Cream. Jeesh! My favorite dessert.

Really good architecture

2011-10-15T17:23:00.001-05:00

Drayton Hall, Charleston, SC
1738

I am biased. I admit. Give me a good Palladian home anyday. Isabelle was at Drayton Hall today - outside of Charleston and sent me this shot from her phone. I have toured Drayton Hall; in fact I did a photo shoot there when I was designing clothing in Charleston waaaaay back when....1980????

This is my favorite piece of architecture in this country. (Okay....that I have seen.)

Period.

It was in the Drayton family from the day they started building it in 1738. In 1974, the family sold the property to the National Trust for Historic Preservation. There's the KEY WORD: PRESERVATION. Not restoration. It is being preserved in this exquisite state of decay so that we may see original finishes dating to the early18th Century.

It is the oldest surviving example of Georgian Palladian architecture in the US and one of the few PRE-REVOLUTIONARY homes that remain close to original condition. It makes me weep. In a good way.

I really, really like the Guggenheim.

But I feel love, feel amour, or the Italian amore about Drayton Hall. I feel love in all languages about Drayton Hall. If I could live in one home in the US, this would be it. Filled with modern furniture. :-)

Here's more for you architecture wackos like me - this is a LOVELY video of the interiors. Check out the paneling, mouldings and colors!

http://www.draytonhall.org/overview/introduction.html

Run, Don't Walk for Broder's Gnocchi with Sage Butter

2011-10-14T19:44:00.002-05:00

I caught the bug that Lee had this past week so just planted here on the sofa surrounded by magazines and books and kleenex. I told Lee I couldn't possibly cook, so what to do? Well, when you live at 51st and Russell in Minneapolis, there is really only one answer to that question. Broder's Deli. So, we checked out the special and ordered some favorites. I have never had their gnocchi. But....I want to say it is some of the very best I've ever had. As good as the gnocchi at Union Square Cafe in NYC, which I personally think is the best food I've had in NY. And, this is definitely better than the gnocchi in Florence at Quattro Leoni.

Bravo, Thomas - or whoever is at the helm on this one!

I almost feel like I could drink another glass of vino - this savory, buttery dish just cheered me right up.

Living Vicariously through Isabelle

2011-10-11T20:57:00.002-05:00

Door to Kitchen house where Izzy is staying until she finds her own apartment.

Outside her door.

A garden path.

I think this wall is part of the original carriage house.

The 19th Century palm that marks the center of the formal garden.

Neighbors.

As most of you know, Isabelle took a job in Charleston, South Carolina and I helped move her there in August. She has been staying courtesy of my dear, dear friends Frank and Tami McCann, two of the most generous and elegant people I know, in their uber-charming kitchen house which happens to have been dropped in a yummy 19th Century Charleston garden. (In the 18th and 19th Centuries, the kitchen house was separated from the main house because of the heat. When there were no stoves, cooking was done in the fireplace. As well, it was a fire hazard and could not be part of the main house.) So this is where Izzy is staying - an unimaginably delightful kitchen house. (There are remnants of the "carriage house" on the property, but it was earlier destroyed, apparently.) Tami's sumptuous garden is on tour this weekend - for the Charleston Fall House and Garden Tours. This is how GOOD the garden is!

Anyway, Izzy's job is going well and she is now looking for her own apartment. So in the last 24 hours, we've talked 4 times while she describes in detail what she is seeing. I am on pins and needles re-living those delicious early days in Charleston when I first moved there in 1978. She is MUCH smarter and more savvy than I was at that time! But, I am having flashbacks - these crazy romantic memories of the smell of the sea, the moisture in the air, the simple pleasure and practicality of "y'all", the uncontested beauty of so much exquisite architecture in such a condensed space, the taste of shrimp just off the boats, the dripping Spanish moss, the gigantic white magnolia flower opening like a lotus. I miss it. I have missed it. Listening to Izzy with the addition of "y'all" to her vocabulary - I am butter - just melting to spend more time there again.

Got to figure this out. I do miss her, but she's doing great - it's really more about my own longing and memories. So wonderful to have a link to that past. I think I need a little spot of my own in Charleston. Got to tell Lee.

MILFS, DILFS and WOLVES

2011-10-08T21:59:00.001-05:00

Tonight we had dinner at our apartment with two of our dearest friends who shall remain nameless.
At some point, after I had denounced the label of "mother" as my primary identity (since my children are now grown) Lee looked at me and said, You are a crone.

Well I had a hunch that wasn't very flattering. But he had hoped it was! Fortunately, I was in a laughing mood so I said something light-hearted. In Jungian psychology, there is the Crone Archetype - sort of the wise woman. Well, after I sputtered about being called a crone, Lee asked, Well, what would you like to be? And, btw, I'll go look up the etymology of the word crone.

Well, crone is really bad! Ugly, witchy, nail like teeth in a round mouth, hag!
I am not a crone!

In the meantime, we are now on a role. Our male friend says, Well you want to be a hottie thing, not a crone. Or maybe you want to be a MILF.

What is a MILF ? I ask?

It's a "mother I'd like to f.." a la Jon Stewart.

Okay. Well, I DO NOT want to be a MILF. What a creepy thing for your kids! No, no MILF for me!

So then one of them said, well who are some MILFs?
Well, of course Sarah Palin is a MILF for some men.

And I said, I don't want to know who you think are MILFs ! Unless I get to name a few FILFs! Or DILFs!

That sent off a chain of laughter. My girlfriend and I high-fived.

But the funniest thing is that Lee kept calling them "WOLFS" - not MILFS. (Not "wolves" but WOLFS)

So then we got into this crazy thing about what a WOLF means- and there is plenty of Freudian and Jungian stuff about that - and maybe it even wiggles its way into the gay scene, but, really I don't want to go there.

I don't even want to think about MILFS! I don't want to be a MILF. YUCK!

I want to be sensibly attractive but I don't want to be an ACRONYM!

I'm going to bed now with my my DILF OR WOLF OR WHATEVER HE IS.

xo
a

Men That Mattered

2011-10-07T22:19:00.000-05:00

This is a little risky, but I've had an idea recently - while listening to melancholic songs from my past (really, Jimmy Buffet and Emmylou Harris) raising memories that look like smoke rings of sweetness, reveries to the past with a profound appreciation for the present. The good news is that my marriage is secure enough to withstand these blasts from the past. (In fact, last night at Pizzeria Lola Lee serenaded me when Billy Joel came on the sound system singing "I Love You Just the Way You Are." If you had seen me last night, you would understand this has a literal interpretation. Standing next to the big pizza oven on our way out, he stopped mid-step until the song was done with mini kissing sessions during the song. I told him, "Honey, people are going to think we are really wack-o." His response...."Who cares? What did Steve Jobs have to say about embarrassment?")

Who could argue with that kind of romance?

I am so aware of how much my marriage and love has meant to me. Other than my children, nothing matters more than my relationship to the man I love. (Work is a very, very close second, which is a whole Freudian matter, and an important one and worthy of its own post - or book!) They have been the yang to my yin - or sometimes the yin to my yang. Men have consoled, worshipped, challenged, loved, adored and befriended me. They have also resisted and been weary of me. I can only imagine the muddy waters I have stirred. But I also can say how much I appreciate the kindness I have received in love.

So....I have this idea that we - women - okay, fine, men too - should compose some essays / paragraphs / just a few words (some people are terrified to imagine that they would have to write an essay or a paragraph!) about the men that made a difference and what the qualities were that mattered. They are probably the men that we married, the men that changed what we needed, that led to the men we married, the men who believed in us, who adored us, who pampered us. I just want to know what the qualities are that matter and how they live in the world.

I want to hear your stories!!!! I will get up the courage to write mine soon. In the meantime, please be noodling on this. I'm thinking this is a book!

THE MEN WHO MATTERED.....they mattered because they.....fill in the blank! I can do this anonymously if you need it... :-)

Cheers!

alecia

Perspective

2011-10-06T21:11:00.004-05:00

It's almost embarrassing to admit this. You know how once is awhile you hit a new ceiling on something. Maybe it is your income, your debt, the number of drinks you have in a week, the miles you can run, the hours of sleep you can get by with, the number of shoes you can own and not feel guilty....Well, I hit a new ceiling last week: the price of a light fixture. No client names. No vendor names.

I needed a light fixture for a large dining room in a gorgeous traditional home in New York - hoping to go a little more modern, even a little rock n' roll. So I found a beautiful fixture that I knew would be expensive, but as that was all they needed for the room, it seemed reasonable to spend a little more on something memorable. I saw a gorgeous fixture in a showroom, took an iphoto, sent it to my client and they asked for the price.

Later that week, I swear, I was walking home from a restaurant and walked by what is reported to be Madonna's townhouse on East 81st and looked in at night though a lovely sheer Conrad-like shade and there was the light fixture! Well, I told my client, surely "if it works for Madonna....."

I got the dimensions of the table and of the room and then asked for a quote for a custom fixture that would fit the bill - I asked for two options. The quotes I got back were for these amounts: $24,600 and $43,000. If I add my margin to the lights, I think we are looking at the price of a car, and not a Ford Focus! A 3- series BMW and possibly a 5-series BMW.

This is what I told the client. "You could just buy a BMW, hang it on the ceiling and turn the lights on." This BMW would cost him the same, be very Joseph Bueys a la 2011 and a commentary on the high cost of decorating.

I don't like to presume anything about my clients. How they spend their money is their business - at least until they ask my opinion. I'm all about beautiful rooms. But...I'm not feelin' a $50,000 light fixture.

Got my card workin'

2011-10-04T19:40:00.000-05:00

Took awhile, but with Becky's help (my new star assistant) and persistence, I got it right!

The "anti-business card." I just tear and stamp.

Kisses - I saw this at an airport

2011-09-26T20:32:00.004-05:00

It's so true. I'm a little fried with technology.

Five things I love about NY

2011-09-25T15:35:00.000-05:00

The Temple at Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Speechless.

The vegetables at Butterfield Market.

House concerts at Ihor and Marisha's
Music on Four
Here, last Thursday, the Honey Dewdrops.
Just awesome, awesome, awesome.
Makes me happy and want to cry at the same time.

Zan, Jessie and Anna.

The warm morning croissants at Eat on Madison.

Shopping D&D yesterday

2011-09-24T09:55:00.001-05:00

From Cervanza - very old world grasscloths. Beautiful colors.

"Pheasant" wallpaper by Twigs - shown here in two colorways.
Think client Josie will love these!

Found these gorgeous wallpapers yesterday at John Roselli in the D&D Building in NYC.

Business Card Inspiration

2011-09-22T21:42:00.001-05:00

When I was in Rome in April, I was doing a bit of antiquing and found a couple of interesting things in a shop near our apartment. I took photos with permission, then asked for a business card - thinking I would want to (perhaps) contact the shopkeeper later. He was ruffled, turned around and found a piece of paper. Then he picked up a stamp, hand stamped the paper and handed it to me. This is what he gave me. I have kept it since on my idea board. I love it. So, it is the inspiration for my own next generation of business cards. While I am here in NYC, I'll go shop for paper.

Back in NY

2011-09-22T15:12:00.002-05:00

I love my return to NY. Since we rent the apartment while we are away from it, I never know exactly how I will find it. Usually, it has been cared for with astonishing grace and we arrive to find love letters on the dining table from our guests. I love filling the refrigerator and getting fresh flowers.This trip we sent a new chest of drawers, our beloved photo of the Guggenheim, which seemed like it was sorely out of place in Minneapolis, and a beautiful 19th Century Italian mirror I got from Claire Steyaert, my favorite antique dealer, and the woman who has the greatest shoes ever - she buys them when she is in Europe.

I've always had a little fantasy about being a hotel keeper - a little bed and breakfast. Although I no longer have THAT fantasy, I love making our apartment nice for guests - down to the linen hand towels, Kiehl's soaps and body washes, linen bedding, goose down comforters, even linen kitchen towels, blah, blah, blah. But, I show up and the housekeeper has mixed up the bedding in some crazy way - like, not sure how you put dark gray cotton sheets on a bed with white linen pillow cases, when there are dark gray pillowcases right there. OR white linen sheets right there. Then, mixing up the towels - instead of four nice matching towels. Why am I so anal about making a place really nice for other people?

I guess that is my job. Duh. Okay, now I get it. Who would pay me to design a room if I didn't care, really care about the details? I know it doesn't involve blood - and in a pinch, I know what is really important. But given the choice....I prefer my four towels to match. I'm so shallow. :-)

Straight on shot of the main living room. It feels bigger than it is because of the luxurious 10-5 ceiling height!

Lee's writing nook with the Guggenheim back where it belongs - in NYC!

This is the amazing chest of drawers I found at the antique shop on Xerxes and 50th.
Vintage - probably 19th Century cherry (not the new stuff!)
It takes a bit of room, which we are getting used to. Practically, it is just right.
Claire's Italian mirror is above.

So, here are a few updated pics of the apartment. Btw....while I am here writing, there are workman in our bedroom removing a pipe that was original the 1880 building. I went in to grab some laundry and it smelled suspiciously bad - like burning bad. Then I saw smoke. The Polish workman looked rather sheepish and asked for water. Really? You just ask for water? You don't want the fire extinguisher or the fire department? Yikes. I kept bringing him containers of water and, apparently, all's well that ends well. The bedroom is too small for me to get over to see what they are really up to, but I know that a big chunk of wall is missing. Glad it's their job and not mine.

Meno (monthly)-pause (to cease)

2011-09-12T21:30:00.002-05:00

I haven't written much from the heart lately. I think when my dad died in June it was easier to just be more superficial in my writing. I didn't know where my heart would take me and that scared me because I wasn't feeling myself. So, after 3 months, I saw that I needed to talk to someone about my "symptoms" - insomnia, anger, irritability, night sweats, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. (A positive symptom is a huge surge of creative energy.) I thought it was grief - unprocessed grief. But, it didn't make a lot of sense because I sat with my father for 8 beautiful months while he died. I cried with him, I thanked him, I told him I would miss him, I just hung out with him. I felt pretty complete about that. The "symptoms" didn't fit the self-diagnosis. And the diagnosis the world seemed to be giving me.

So, I called my trusty therapist and told her what was going on, that I was at risk of doing major damage to my marriage and business relationships if I didn't sweeten up. We wiggled around and through a lot of the symptoms. And then she asked, "How old are you? This sounds like menopause. If it is, we don't this lightly. It is a powerfully demanding time of life. You will never be the same."

A woman in her late 50's (I am guessing) which is my age - she was like a harness for the hurricane I had been feeling. She is the first to acknowledge that the anger I have been feeling is healthy and real. And after 1 hour with her, after 3 months of having trouble breathing, of sleeping, of feeling guilty about my dis-ease, I finally feel liberated and heard. And this is what I got:

We are told something that goes like this: Menopause is a perfectly natural state for women. If you are eating right, exercising, not abusing your body and spirit, there is no reason that you should suffer the "symptoms of menopause". If you do, it is a sign that you are not taking care of yourself. And, have you ever noticed that almost everything you do / want / eat is related to the problems of menopause???

Okay, fine. I'll cut back to one cup of coffee a day. I'll cut back on my red wine. I'll exercise almost every day. I'll eat kale until it is coming out of my ears. I'll meditate. I'll go to yoga 3 x a week. I've done all these things and OF COURSE I mostly feel better. Who wouldn't?? I spend half my income on organic, locally grown foods! But my menopausal symptoms have not diminished one iota!

I still have hot flashes. I still have insomnia. And now I will tell you about the other symptoms....anger and feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.

When I told Carol about this - she lit up like a light bulb. "This is because menopause is a time to take your body back. You have been giving for years - for 30 years? It is time for yourself. This is a profound change of life. Do not take it lightly."

I noted several things of late:

1. I turned Isabelle's bedroom into my own office - WITH A DOOR! immediately after her move to Charleston. I have "a room of own's own." For the last year, Lee and I sat 8 feet apart in our main living area, each working on our own projects - it was wonderful after living apart for so long. But, when Isabelle left as a young adult for her own life, I began to purge the room and take it over. I can hardly tell you how profound it is to have a quiet place to myself with a door. And, equally important, Lee has his own space now that he begins life anew.

2. I HATE feeling responsible for feeding people! I LOVE to cook - but not when I have to work around my work. My work is important. And I don't want my primary role to be taking care of people any more. It would be neurotic to WANT to continue to take care of people as my primary identity since my children are grown. I LOVE to cook for friends and for Lee and myself when I have the time, but as a daily duty, I am so over it.

I love love love my husband and children, but so happy they are doing their thing. Also....a note that I am so happy my husband isn't in the "retirement" mood! The surge of creative energy needs a partner who can meet that - at least that is true for me. I need Lee to have as active a creative life as I want.

3. I want to say "No" more than "Yes". I find myself not willing to do the "favors" I used to feel like I had to do. It isn't that I wanted to do them then; I just thought to be a good person you had to do it. Now, I feel like I need to be clean and clear and say yes to the things that matter and no to the things that don't. The writer of the 4-hour work week makes a practice of this.

4. Finally, the major life transitions can be painful. Birth, death, puberty. All of these are spiritual passages. More primitive (or not?) cultures created rituals to inflict pain on its youth at puberty to emphasize the threshold that must be crossed. This is how I am now thinking about menopause. I don't want my guy friends telling me I need to clean up my liver. I want to just be a woman experiencing menopause. I may do it well. I may not. I wasn't that great at giving birth - I had 2 C-sections, but I still love my kids. I am still a mom. I am a woman with hot flashes. So what? It is a physical reminder of the skin I need to shed to create this new life. Change is painful sometimes. I don't want to feel guilty about the pain anymore. I don't want drugs. I just want my authentic life back. Guilt free. Ready to figure out what is next. Pain and discomfort don't scare me. Denial does.

Back to Charleston for the Moment

2011-09-09T22:02:00.001-05:00

Ikea? Go figure! Sweet pendant.

Love the color palette of these linen pieces.

Sweet, (slightly spooky?) angel dolls of driftwood with handmade vintage linen dresses.

I came across these photos from a shop in Mount Pleasant - in the "village"- a wonderful early 20th C development across the Cooper River from Charleston. I can't for the life of me recall the name of the shop, but Izzy, Tami and I had a great time digging around - it was something between LaRue's in Minneapolis, a country gift shop, Victory in Minneapolis, then a mini Barney's shoe salon. It was kind of crazy - but that good crazy :-). I got a great pair of shoes and a gift for a friend. Will photo the shoes soon.

A Doctor's Wife

2011-09-09T00:14:00.005-05:00

Lee D. Stevens, husband and love of my life, is now officially Lee D. Stevens, Ph.D. in Depth Psychology as of Tuesday. His Ph.D. was conferred upon him by two colleagues at Pacifica Graduate Institute and a third outside reader of his dissertation, a PhD graduate from Stanford. Lee did a wonderful job presenting his defense - 30 minutes (and no more!) to distill the 250 pages of his dissertation into something that made sense. Each of the readers then asked a question to which Lee had to respond. One of them was challenging. An interesting thing that was pointed out is this:

Degrees have been around since the Middle Ages - beginning with the guilds. After a period of apprenticeship, one became a "master". Eventually the doctorates were created, a sign that the student has moved beyond just mastery but has now reached the pinnacle. Only doctors can confer the degree of doctor on another. So, it is an honor to be invited into the fold as your work is judged by those who have already attained this degree of knowledge.

After almost 8 years, lots of work, sacrifice and expense, it's done! Several people congratulated me, too - and I really do get it. We lived apart for 3 of the years when he started this journey in California. He took this past year off to complete the writing while I worked and supported us. I was moved when he began his presentation thanking me for allowing him to do that and for caring for us. I was just happy to have him home again. But, I know now it is a great privilege to not work, to do what you love, especially when someone else is paying the bills!

So...it was my pleasure, Lee D. Can't wait to see what's next for you.

We really celebrated - whoo hoo! Went for a walk on the beach, then to the Worker Bee cafe for breakfast the next morning - that was his only request - in Carpinterea - near Montecito, CA. It was a ritual many of his school buddies repeated each month when they met during the 3 years of classes. Here are some photos of the day, starting with a walk on the beach.

A little National Geographic on our walk.

Carpinteria Beach.

View from the beach toward land. Really.

California sun required that I wear a hat - jeesh - it is so intense.

I never wear a hat like this otherwise!

The Worker Bee Cafe - since 1965. :-)

Love those bisquits and honey!

Best Ever Mexican Food

2011-09-05T22:18:00.004-05:00

They sell t-shirts. Before I leave, I'm havin' one!

The kind of salsa you can't stop eating.

My "new" Margarita - only Cuervo Gold and Triple Sec.

Bring 3 - 4 slices lime on the side. Salt on top.

Squeeze limes yourself. Never too sugary that way.

AMAZING!

Lee's Chicken Burrito with the freshest black beans and only a bit of rice.

(I think bad Mexican restaurants load up on rice because it is cheap.)

This was mostly chicken and the most delicious lime / jalapeno sauce.

Lee and I drove to Carpinteria today - a short reach from Santa Barbara. We stay here at a Best Western which sounds mostly dull, but is actually really nice - a gorgeous courtyard filled with bougainvilla, banana palm and I don't know what else, but lovely all the same.

It is a place we know. When Lee was a student at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Montecito, this is where they housed many of the companions of the students - we stayed here together on many occasions. Wanting to stay close for dinner (no car!) we got word of a great Mexican place called Delgado's and walked the two blocks. Carpenteria may be 85% Hispanic. It is made up of the working classes - all those hard-working people who work for the wealthier classes of Santa Barbara. So, we figured a Mexican restaurant in Carpenteria is probably the real deal!

Well, it was as good as we could have imagined. Best ever for me (girl from Iowa and Minnesota.) Even New York doesn't have very good Mexican (authentic) restaurants. Lots of over-priced upscale Mexican, but not much that is just great quality, fresh, fair priced food. This bill including 3 drinks, 2 dinners and guacamole - $45.00.

Delgados in Carpinteria - if you are in the 'hood, don't miss it.

The LA Thing

2011-09-05T18:35:00.002-05:00

Well, now it's tested. I really don't like LA much. I thought for a long time, it was just my neuroses that didn't like LA. Now I know. It's me. I really don't vibe with LA.

It's fine if you don't need history and moss-covered buildings and cobbly streets and architectural surprizes tucked away in corners. It's fine. The food is good. The ocean is dramatic where the mountains dip down to lift it up. It's always nice to have palm trees wherever you are if you ask me. So that's nice. The weather is good - really, really good. In fact, it probably doesn't get better. Except for me, I would be bored out of my gourd to have that every day of the year. Even 2/3 of the year. But, don't get me wrong, I can see why some people wouldn't ever get bored with it. My husband is one of those people.

The other thing about LA that made me laugh is this: we arrived on Saturday mid-day, rented a car, parked it in the garage of the hotel and never, ever got back in the car until we left today for Santa Barbara. Dinner at Chaya in Venice Beach? We called a cab. Took a cab home. For both of us the thought of being on vacation and spending it on San Vicente Blvd or the 405 or Wilshire over in Hollywood made us itch. So we just did nothing that couldn't be done on foot (after one night in the cab.) I now know this is what we love so much about New York. I just LOVE LOVE LOVE not being a slave to my car. So, we didn't do much in LA. Really nothing except walk along the bluff overlooking the ocean in Santa Monica, walked to have lunch with a lovely couple (will tell you more about that in the next post!), walked to dinner, wrote, walked to breakfast. That is it! No Chateau Marmont, or Viceroy for drinks. Just boring, boring, boring. But, as I was really needing to chill, it was quitea nice kind of boring. I just don't want to ever live there. Or have to return very often.

Today, we headed north for Santa Barbara because Lee's oral defense is tomorrow. (No, this does not involve a dentist or orthodontist - this is all about getting his PhD...:-) When we return to Minneapolis, he will now have to go to work, which seems to make him a little nervous. You know, figuring out how to make a living isn't the easiest thing in the world. And then, once you do figure it out - you still have to do it - to make it happen. That can be even harder. Then, again, sometimes, it all just falls in your lap. That calling stuff is funny business. (I'd love to hear some stories about how you all have found your callings!)

But, back to LA. When Lee lived there from fall 2004 to fall 2007, I had to visit. Well, I was insecure enough that my husband and I were living apart. And I didn't feel at all at home in LA - in fact, I felt like a freak - an Iowa farm girl in my men's Gap jeans and black J crew t-shirts (that's all I could afford at the time.) At least I had a cool pair of Frye boots in 2004. No one else did then, so I probably looked a little like a lesbian in that outfit, come to think of it. I just know I didn't look anything like the LA women with their thongs peeking out of the top of their coral Juicy velour pants tucked into their Uggs. So I hated the place because it felt like a threat to me, to my marriage and to everything I understood. I kept saying that I thought it was kind of shallow and not very interesting or intellectually energetic. Too casual for me. Blah, blah, blah.

Well, who would have known that I still think these things after spending the weekend there? I no longer feel insecure about LA and its women. (NY has cured me of that.) It just really isn't my thing. At least I know that I wasn't crazy then. My distaste for the culture and geography still stands.

I like green. I like lush. I like history. I like (old) architecture. I like density. I despise cars. I like diversity. I like seasons. I like elegant men and women - not overtly sexy men and women. I like to be covered, not exposed. I don't like too much sun (I hate getting my skin burned.)

C'e la vie. We all have our preferences. And one of the great things about getting older is that, if things work out, you get to live your preferences. What are yours?????

La Garçonne Moderne - my FAVORITE look!

2011-09-04T10:41:00.002-05:00

Especially here in LA, where women bare as much as they can legally get by with in public,

this is the epitome of beauty to me. Channeling Katherine Hepburn. Covered and leaving it all to the imagination.

This coat is on my wish list by Kris Kim.
*From the NY Times, T The Moment, 9/4/11

Reporting from Santa Monica

2011-09-03T23:34:00.012-05:00

The unmistakable Pacific ocean.

Shutters on the Beach. Lovely.

I'm feeling like a travel writer these past few weeks. I realized tonight at dinner in Venice Beach, California (with Lee) that I have been in my 3-4 favorite places in the US in the last 2 1/2 weeks! New York, Charleston, Minneapolis, Santa Monica / Santa Barbara (where we are headed on Monday). The only place I can think of that I also love, but didn't make in the past 2 1/2 weeks is New Orleans. It seems insincere to complain about being tired when I am so lucky to spend time in these amazing places.

And, it is all for good reason. I had to move Isabelle to Charleston - a right of passage and great pleasure for me. Then, of course returned to MSP for work and family and general life. And, today, we flew to LA for Lee. His turn. On Tuesday, he presents an oral defense of his PhD dissertation at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara. (I guess he could have attended a school in Nebraska and I would not be nearly as happy to attend this ceremony.) I'm so proud of him - that he got this darn dissertation done! 250 pages - it's a book. He's written a book and we get to celebrate it on Tuesday.

So we had this great day - after a long, hard week. It started out on this perfect note when I asked for an upgrade at the check in desk at our gate and got it! Loved sitting in 1A and 1B - I got lots of writing done, had a glass of wine and a perfectly nice goat cheese pizza. And LA is just far enough that first class is especially nice! Then, we went to FOX rent-a-car. They were out of cars with about 40 people waiting for one! We didn't really know what to do. After almost an hour, we thought we'd just go to our hotel and forget a car. We'd get one on Monday to drive to Santa Barbara. But, we hung around, joking about how things had gone well for us today so let's just trust the big Michelle Bachman universe (wink, wink). Before you know it, a big old Nissan Altima pulls into the lot and they call our name. Another upgrade and we didn't have to pay for it. (We booked the super compact size!)

Off we go to the hotel. I am not a fan of hotels. In fact, I hate hotels. I like to stay in apartments or homes or just a hole in the wall as long as it has a refrigerator and coffee machine. Lee booked this and it was a crap shoot that I would not complain. We are so "vibing" with this ask and you shall receive thing, I ask for some money to fall out of the sky - joking. Now this is true. I get to the room, clean out my messy wallet to tuck away the reciept from the cab this morning and FIND $220! in a pocket I had forgotten! So this is a really good day!

And....ya know...the room has a perfectly fine scale. The TV isn't the size of Mt. Everest. There are two full beds so you don't have to deal with that mammoth king size thing. There is free wifi, a nice desk, a nice lounge chair and great air circulation if you open both your door and window. It is across the street from the beach and the breeze is just exquisite. It is like early fall in Minneapolis. So cool and beautiful. BUT SUNNNY! BLUE SUNNY SKIES.

It is only 8:30 and we are headed to bed - way past our normal bedtime in MSP. But I wanted to post some photos from Day 1 in LA. I just can't get my head around this place, but we've had a lot of fun, it is really relaxing and we had a great dinner at Chaya Venice. Here are some scenes. (Dinner pics from Chaya tomorrow after I upload.) For now...sweet dreams.

Yoga on the beach.

Back therapy?

Lee at Shutters on the Beach.

The Dude?

Okay, this was kind of scary. This is under the Santa Monica Pier with high tide coming in.

This needs no sub-title.

Lots of stories after a few days in Charleston

2011-08-21T21:39:00.003-05:00

Images from Charleston and then lots of rambling below....

Tami's Garden. Really.

Izzy purchasing a sampling of local ice cream at the Charleston Farmer's Market.

Sweet corn and cinnamon was the favorite!

Shrimp is one of my all time favorite foods.

Fresh off the boats here.

We don't know what this vegetable is, but I LOVE the color!

We thought beets, but they had a bunch of beets nearby....what are these???? Turnips?

A super fun lunch spot! Jeesh, South Minneapolis needs this.

Taco Boy!

Inside Taco Boy.

The Guac!

A very religious Mary pillow on a rugged bench at Taco Boy.

Folly Beach. White sand.

I'm missing something and I can't put my finger on it. Do you ever have that slightly tender melancholy - like something dear to you is just missing?

I have a long list of possibilities and here are a few:

Lee is in the hills south of LA on a retreat with his mentor, Robert Sardello (and 29 other people.) We have been together almost constantly for the past year (except for some time he spent in Boulder with his family.) I might be missing him. And, after living apart for 4 years, I feel like I have a right to that.

But, I"m not sure that is it.

When I arrived in Minneapolis today, a Sunday, alone for the first time in weeks (!) I kept thinking about my dad (who passed from this world in June - for anyone who doesn't know.) I just felt his presence - even on my flight from Charleston / Atlanta. (He loved airplanes, so maybe that was it.) It was also that I can't forget it was a Sunday in June that it became very clear he didn't have long to live and we all agreed it was time to go to the Hospice Center in Northfield. I won't forget him leaving on a stretcher - leaving his home for the last time. I wonder what he thought about that. I miss him. Lee said it in a rather charming way recently. He said, "I'm so mad at dead people." Thinking that was a really weird thing to say, I asked, "What the .... does that mean?" He said, "I miss'em. I just miss'em. I miss my dad and your dad." Bingo.

But, I"m not sure that is it entirely, either.

I spent the last 4 days in Charleston. Izzy and I drove from NYC - leaving Wednesday morning and arriving Thursday around 6:00. I won't dwell on the hell it was to make that drive on Day 1 between NYC and Richmond, Virginia. Suffice it to say we did 336 miles in 10 HOURS! 33.6 miles per hour average. You would have to shoot me if I was a commuter between Baltimore and DC or Newark and Trenton, NJ. Driving out of Manhattan was like driving in Northfield compared to the hell of being on the interstate. It was so intense for the entire 10 hours. We consumed a bottle of wine and a horrible pizza on arrival in Richmond (which is another story entirely - and I will save it for another time.)

Day 2 was good. Lots of good Southern bluegrass and a little Carole King and we were cruising at 70 - 75 on perfect roads and only 2 lanes. I am not equipped to handle 3-4 lanes of traffic. My depth perception is just screwy. I can't manage all those cars moving around me. 2 lanes and I'm good.

Anyway, we land in Charleston at the home of my dearest friends there - Frank and Tami McCann. Well, Tami and I go waaaaaay back to 1979 when we both worked at the same fancy little clothing store in Charleston. We both love clothing. She and her husband have amazing taste, love antiques and vintage furniture, photos, cars - and clothing. (She gave me a pair of '80s Frye cowboy boots this trip which she had outgrown!) Over the years, we have grown closer, even though we moved across the country. Lee and Frank really enjoy each other - two Pisces having been born 2 weeks apart. We laugh our heads off when we are together and you can't say that about a lot of people.

So....Izzy gets this internship in Charleston (mostly because of Frank's connections, honestly) and they are kind enough to offer her their GORGEOUS carriage house (although it was technically the kitchen house) of their 1840 Charleston home - located in one of the most beautiful gardens in Charleston - for an un-determined period of time! Like many weeks! Free! A carriage house in Charleston. This is a big deal.

But the bigger deal is just that they are so generous and fun and will take Izzy on like a project! OR, rather, she will be the daughter Tami never had and they will have a wonderful time together.

The last 3 days, Tami, Izzy and I have been running all over that city, its suburbs and its beaches working to get Isabelle oriented, unpacked, loaded up with personal accoutrements like shaving cream and shampoo, shoes for work, nails and toes done for the new job so you don't look like you work pulling tassles off corn all day, practicing her drive to work so she knows how to get there, shopping the farmer's market (which only mildly passes for a farmer's market - it is more a craft fair!) for vegetables for the week, cooking for Tami and Frank as the most modest forms of gratitude for their generosity, shopping for shoes, scouting the Earthfare Market as the place to shop for organic beef, planning her social calendar with Tami, which includes a "MERMAID PARTY" at the neighbors on Monday (tomorrow) for a bunch of cool women (no men!) of all ages.

Tami has already spread the word that Izzy cooks so she's on for bringing something to the above-referenced MERMAID PARTY. Izzy is currently baking rosemary shortbreads to compliment the drinks at the party. I'll fill you in on the details and hopefully Izzy will send photos, but basically some cool around 60-year old woman has this party every year for cool women around Charleston. She lives in a 19th C. Charleston single house with a garden that looks like something out of Key West - so exotic and overgrown. As you tuck under the palms along the old brick pathway, suddenly a gorgeous pool of blue water appears surrounded by Belgian pavers. She puts out a collection of MERMAID figurines throughout the garden and the women drink, swim and do what women do everywhere - talk.

I am so JEALOUS! I wish I was there.

We shopped until we dropped (and I hate shopping) but Tami is a force. She knows the best places for cool, mostly affordable things - I bought 2 pairs of shoes - god knows what I bought Isabelle. I am going unconscious about that. Izzy bought me some crazy "stole" for my birthday at the farmer's market. See, I told you it was a craft fair.

In all, I laughed so hard and I was so relaxed and I walked on the beach and just played like a kid with a best friend - 2 of them. SO when I had to say good bye to Isabelle and Tami and Charleston today, it just felt like too much. I actually had one of those thoughts that I wouldn't come back. I would just call Lee and tell him to move to Charleston because I was going to stay.

It still might happen. I love it so much. But I also love the people in Minneapolis. ANd I love New york and i love Florence. SO what do you do about all that? The good news is this: Wherever I am in one of these places, I am happy. And in the end, you have to be happy inside and strong and fulfilled within - then, I believe you can have a preference for a place or two - but a place will never truly make us happy. It can be an impetus - an environment that aligns things - like the stars - in our favor. But, the real work is still within, it seems.

All that said...jeesh, I love Charleston and I am so happy for Isabelle. It is so ironic that I moved there in my 20's and had the time of my life. I can only wish the same for her and I am so proud of her that she has moved there on her own - she hasn't even seen Frank and Tami since she was 9! She just wanted a new environment and she went for it. I feel like I am living vicariously through her - I can't wait to hear each day's story.

But, also, I miss her - we are salt and pepper, oil and vinegar. We compliment but are very, very different. Other than Lee, no one knows me like Izzy does. She lived with me when I became this person I am today in the last 8 years. Zan was off to school. Izzy had to live with me through the drama of my growing into who I am today - when Lee lived in LA and all in a 1200 sf apt.

I also think I just miss the carefree quality of the time I spent there - I haven't laughed this much in years. Tami and I are like sisters. I rarely looked at email or my computer. I was truly on a playdate with best friends. Walking away from that this morning was not easy.

Friendship and family is so precious. That is the bottom line - whether I miss Lee, my dad, my daughter or my dear friend....what does it matter? That we know and feel it is such a tender place. I am one lucky girl. I have amazing friends, happy, engaged children, work and clients I love, I get to travel, and, well...the husband....yeah - that's really good too. Thank you to whoever is in charge.

Is this from the Onion?

2011-08-13T21:17:00.009-05:00

"Michele Bachmann is worried about the Renaissance"

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/culturemonster/2011/08/michele-bachmann-is-worried-about-the-renaissance.html

(and DON'T miss the UTUBE! Stay for the end!)

New York, New York

2011-08-13T17:36:00.009-05:00

The following photos are of the interiors of the philanthropist and fashionista, Dodie Roscranz of San Francisco, Venice, and Paris.

Dodie Roscranz

All photos here are from a blogpost by Diane Dorrens Saeks. She gives credits to photographers at the end of her post. http://www.thestylesaloniste.com/2010/05/private-realm-glamorous-philanthropic.html

I don't know what it is, but I come to New York and just let down - in a good way. I've had this wonderfully full work life this summer in Minneapolis which coincided with the death of my dad - but, all in all, I've been running near empty. My Chinese Medicine doctor (as in Chinese medicine, not that he is Chinese,) Dr. Chris Hafner says it is like when we were in our 20's and had no extra money to spare so we put only a dollar or two in the gas tank. As long as there was a little gas, the car ran, but it didn't take much and you were out of gas again. He says that is what my body is like now - running NEAR empty.

He always tells me stories so I can visualize the state of my health. I love his stories. As a visual person, it has impact. So, I'm working on keeping more gas in the tank. Yoga, meditation (Lee has helped me with what he calls "western meditation" a method using the imagination, which is strong in me. I had a hard time just following my breath. It was too boring. I like a meditation that uses an image instead of a mantra or the breath.) I'm also eating more healthfully. That really does make a world of difference. Less food, more powerful nutrients. That sounds like a marketing campaign for something.

Back to New York. Lee and I arrived on Wednesday. I needed to be here for a meeting with Sotheby's for an article I am writing for Artful Living (MSP mag). It was actually very cool to meet the marketing / press team for Sotheby's International at their NY headquarters. All 4 of the team were very friendly, low-key and happy that the magazine promotes the brand, of course. After the meeting we took a tour of the 10th floor where they display the items coming up for auction. Well, it is just amazing. There are two collections of the decorative arts of some very fancy people.

One of them is Dodie Roscranz's collection from San Francisco. (http://www.thestylesaloniste.com/2010/05/private-realm-glamorous-philanthropic.html) The photos here on my post are from a web post by a fellow design writer, Diane Dorran Saeks. (She used to also work with Met Home and the Meredith magazines I still work with. Diane, without your permission, but with credit - thank you for your post on Dodie - really great! Diane's many interior design books are beautiful, too! )

It was incredible. Apparently Tony Duquette (of Hollywood fame) and Micheal Taylor, also of California fame, designed her homes - San Francisco, Paris, Venice. Good, no? She had the most beautifully grand Venetian style gilt chairs and then there was the small Andy Warhol OIL PAINTING of Mao Tse-Tung. Very interesting after seeing the uber-sized print at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You just get it that you are not in Kansas anymore when you see this stuff.

The art of mixing is so delicate and courageous. I have started to think that TRANSITIONAL furniture and TRANSITIONAL style should just be delegated to the masses. It is SOOOOOOO neither here nor there. It is so much more interesting to mix SUPER traditional like an Italian gilt chair with a Warhol (or any modern piece of art! including affordable art.) I also like SUPER modern lighting in very traditional rooms.

So I am banning Transitional - it is so sadly non-committal! I am all about commitment and a bit of courage in design. You don't have to be able to afford a Warhol to do this. It is a point of view. Embrace it!

Speaking of "points", the point of this whole post is how being in New York fills my gas tank. I sleep better and longer. I eat really well. I go to yoga (amazing YOGAWORKS studio on the Eastside committed to a practice that honors the tradition of yoga - not a "gym".) And I restore a deep respect for the civilized world of art and beauty and the diversity of humankind I see on the streets and on the subway. You see it all here. And I feel beyond lucky to be a part of it with a full tank of gas.

Sex or something more subtle?

2011-08-07T21:15:00.009-05:00

Crazy, Stupid Love - Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone. Modern love.

Roman Holiday - 1953, Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn

Roman Holiday - 1953, Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn

Oy. This is complicated. Would love some feedback! Last Sunday night, Lee took me to "Crazy, Stupid Love." Now, we go to about 2 movies a year, rent a few. That's it. We are pretty out of it with movies now. But after being locked inside our air-conditioned apartment for a week of 100-degree temps, we had to get out. We even skipped dinner and ate the stupid salty popcorn which didn't settle with me.

So, Steve Carrell - funny, right. Julianne Moore - love! Ryan Gosling - a whisper of an awareness that he exists, but now I know he has the body of a god. Like the David. Incredible. Too perfect, really. Emma Stone. Darling. Those eyes. So it seems a recipe for success.

Okay, but the movie is kind of dumb. I just kept looking at Gosling's perfect (really) body and thinking....well, duh, he hired a trainer and worked for 6 mos to a year to get it. He's 30. If you can't look perfect then, and you have the money for a trainer, when will you look any better? Seemed a little contrived. BUT, I was grateful that, for a change, the sex object was male instead of female.

I thought I was enjoying it, but it was only momentarily pleasing, not satisfying in the long run. In fact, it was kind of annoying. Too long, too cliche, too many hot women at the bars that Gosling was constantly hitting on for indiscriminate sex. His line was simply, "Let's get out of here."

Then, on Wed and Thurs this week we watched Roman Holiday (split it up to maintain our 10:00 pm bedtime) Well, it was fabulous. Give me Gregory Peck in a loose, beautifully cut suit (clear that it inspired Armani) any day over the perfectly-purchased body of a masher. (Perfect male body seems not so different than a woman buying breasts.) Gosling's hot, of course. But he's a predictable ass until he has an epiphany of love in the end, which is also predictable.

Gregory Peck is neither boring nor an ass. He's classy, he's covered, he's charming. He's smart. He's respectful. Respectful when he tucks the inebriated Ann into his bed while he sleeps on a chaise nearby (in pajamas of course.) When did we last see the story of a couple who meets, feels attraction, but holds it - like tantra? So much more interesting and sexy.

People fall in love. Of course, people also have indiscriminate, uncommitted, sometimes hot, sometimes not, sex. Love seems vastly more interesting to me. That was the charm of Roman Holiday - love that couldn't be lived, but was deeply felt. With Rome as the setting.

One reviewer criticized Crazy, Stupid Love for not enough sex, for being prudish. (It was a man. :-) Any thoughts on the whole topic of sex and love in the movies? Would love to hear - what are your favorites? What movies bug you?

My husband LOVES yellow mustard

2011-07-29T18:21:00.001-05:00

Not spicy brown, not gray poupon - only plain yellow mustard. It is a problem on the east coast where, even in New York, you cannot find Yellow mustard - only spicy brown mustard. I have considered buying him a holster and belt so that he can carry his own bottle of yellow mustard around with him. This has been a lifelong love. His brother Gary says this: "That mustard jar is the size that Lee used to go thru everyday after school!!"

Today Isabelle, making wise use of her time, went to the National Mustard Museum in Madison. This is what she found. Hey, she's a foodie. I guess you could consider this research?

Progress Report: SE Loft in vintage commercial building

2011-07-23T15:46:00.004-05:00

The owner of this property has won kudos from the city for restoring and reusing an old commercial building in SE Minneapolis. The project is such a great example of re-purposing vintage architecture. Bravo to him.

Although the ground level is zoned for commercial space, the owner has his own living quarters above - so "new urban" from (what?) centuries ago.

Just finishing this summer. He's got amazing, quiet taste and it's really fun for me to do a man's home for a change. Inspiration? His closet. Here's a sneak peek.

Aubry Angelo Mineapolis mohair rug is just delicious. Navy blue Silk / wool mohair A. Rudin sofa piped in brown French grosgrain (from Scherping Westphal at IMS Minneapolis), vintage French 1940's leather club chairs from NYC, Hmmmm...is that a BDDW credenza in bronze and leather? Christian Liaigre pair of tables in teak and custom brass and marble side tables - by Bo Jacobssen, metalworker extraordinaire. Lamps are Baker and McGuire. (They always have the greatest lamps.) Add the wonderful CW Smith 19th Century British Colonial mahogany bookcase and...it's almost a wrap.

A little guest retreat in the attic

2011-07-21T18:55:00.004-05:00

Just finished today - love fest with the client! She just trusted me. Is there anything better? We used most of her furniture - which can make for the most interesting project - (okay depending on the client and their collections!) but I added wallpaper and the great jute carpeting and then had the good luck to find a great chaise at Hunt & Gather from the 1940's (?) with all down cushions. Just yummy and so vintage and interesting. Perfect scale, which is difficult to find now.

Add a little Restoration Hardware Belgian linen bedding and they are good to go.

Sorry this is dark. Gives you the feeling...

Moroccan rug at end of bed from Aubry Angelo. Can you stand this crazy chaise? Satin!

Photos from Villa Borghese gardens in Rome

2011-07-20T09:27:00.000-05:00

I had such a great time with my camera in Italy - and, upon my return, found this group of photos I had taken at the wonderful "Central Park" of Rome. So, I blew them up and had them framed - gallery style - with a nice 4-ply mat and museum glass (not so much reflection) and voila! I like the size as it seems more modern.

Here they are. Now we can live with a little bit of Rome every day.

22 years ago today - Isabelle Donovan was born.

2011-07-19T21:08:00.000-05:00

I swear...the world has never been the same. She is a force of nature. God love her.

Here is a photo of Izzy (age 2) and me, at Camp Lawton (our church camp.)

Happy Birthday, Iz. Though I know you'd never read your mom's blog. I love you, anyway. :-)

Moroccan on Minnetonka

2011-07-17T21:04:00.007-05:00

Hosts David and Lucy Thatcher Penfield.

Lucy and Rob

The Table.

Brenda and an apparition.

The melon and mint "starter".

Andrew. Happy as usual.

Lee.

Okay....well....a little love, a little talk, a little cry, a little wine and I want to write!

Hosts Lucy and David Penfield could not have been more generous - in spirit and in the kitchen - on Thursday night. Lee and I were invited to a dinner party at their home in Deephaven which included Andrew Flesher and his partner, Rob and Brenda Scherping and Fritz Westphal (Sherping-Westphal at IMS.) It was soooooo unbelievably romantic and elegant that I will have to undergo thousands of hours of therapy to ever give a party again - I will feel so inadequate!

We are talking rose petals on the table cloth, a surprise appearance by Lucy's charming, entertaining, and well-traveled father, R. Paul Thatcher and an interactive closing (hostess gift!) that involved the making of "preserved lemons."

Oh, yes... we each received the recipe for the Moroccan chicken and couscous that we had for dinner. Here's the back story: Lucy and David went to Morocco on a Culinary Adventure last year to celebrate Lucy's birthday. How good is that! People who travel and learn are my heroes because it is just so darn thrilling to be at this stage of life, still learning new things and traveling with your beloved. It just rocks!

Here are photos. It really should have been featured in Elle Decor or W. It was exquisite. Unfortunately, I was way too busy drinking wine, eating olives and apricots, partaking of the mint tea and talking to the interesting guests - these are the best photos I got. Sorry! A little fuzzy - too much vino!

I feel really bad about this but I can't write right now.

2011-07-17T15:47:00.002-05:00

I'm doing something like burnout - fried - overwhelmed and since I think that is one of my M.O.s I'm working on changing that pattern. Dr. Hafner is a big help with his needles and his wise counsel.

A little meditation - or probably better called "muddletation" for me. It is not so easy to quiet a mind, is it?

Exercise - which now sounds like just one more thing on my to do list.

Putting one foot in front of the other instead of tripping all over my self and sometimes others. (Ask Isabelle - :-)

And laughing again. I'm not laughing so much.

Lee thinks its grief. Okay.

But I miss feeling like writing.

I'll be back. I promise.

Too tired to write but here is some inspiration from NYC!

2011-07-11T22:35:00.004-05:00

NEW YORK JUST ROCKS. All from ABC except the guy...can't remember where I saw him, but love his look. More later. I saw the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Met and I am mostly speechless about it. Shook my world. Will tell you more soon!

I think this is made of cardboard...a la Frank Gehry.

Love this guy's look.

Hand thrown pottery dishes. So sensual.

On the shelves.

Saw lots of this instead of flowers on tables. Sort of retro '70s to me.

Crazy shelves that remind me of something Italian, but I don't know what!

Lovely 18th C. French bench in muslin. You can feel the horsehair under it!

Italian chair (not sure how old ... did not seem to be gold leaf to me) but the blue worn silk velvet was gorgeous!

Izzy

2011-07-03T10:20:00.002-05:00

It's hard to find the words to say much right now. So, the best I can do is talk about food.

Izzy at work at Kelly and Tom's - placing avocado on the gazpacho.

The panzanella - without question one of my summery favorites! Top it with a grilled tenderloin!

Izzy's gazpacho.

My plate with the proscuitto-wrapped shrimp. Bliss.

First, Isabelle Donovan can cook. My almost 22-year old daughter wowed us with her capacity to just take charge of the kitchen, the food, the presentation - and even the clean up.

After Dad's funeral on Thursday, she orchestrated his famous macaroni and cheese, Clancey's brats (which are the most delicious things you can imagine - made fresh each week at Clancey's in Linden Hills), a kitchen sink salad (about which I've posted before), roasted asparagus with olive oil, lemon and garlic. For 16 people. She did it like she was rolling over in bed.

Last night, we had dinner with my dear "brothers" Kelly and Tom at their place. We are all fried from the last few weeks, so we offered to bring food if they offered their home. Deal. Izzy made gazpacho, proscuitto wrapped shrimp on the grill and a Panzanella salad with fresh bufalo mozzarella from Broders. Jeesh! It was 95 degrees when we arrived and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect summer meal. All without a recipe...just her own sense of how to put the ingredients together.

Lee was still talking about it today. I'm just so stunned to get food at home that is so much better than almost anything I can buy out. It is such a treat.

So...all you readers...if you know of a cool job for an amazing caterer / cook, party planner AND an amazing blogger, tweeter and facebooker ABOUT FOOD (social media for a restaurant, food company, etc.) I've got your gal!

Plus, she can arrange flowers!

California Dreamin'

2011-06-21T00:21:00.001-05:00

I can't believe I am even writing this. I don't even like California that much. But, these gray days of summer in the city are seeping into my mood. The endless Pacific, a blue sky, dry air....sound good to me right now.

Dad's Passing

2011-06-18T18:16:00.002-05:00

Dad passed from this earthly life last evening. It was simply the most profound, beautiful, mysterious experience I have had since giving birth. We were all there. In the room, there was nothing to breathe but love.

My brother and I were reading Joseph Campbell this week - the whole process of dying seems so mythological. We found a quote - this one from the tale of Parzival - one of Campbell's favorite stories of the hero's journey. It describes my father as I could not.

He was gifted with the paired virtues of courage and compassion, to which was added loyalty. And it was through his steadfastness in these--not supernatural grace--that he won , at last, the Grail.

Thank you all for your care, your words, your prayers for me and my family during this time. I am so grateful for the friends and clients in my life. We all just know when life matters so deeply, that everything else drops away.

Peace.

My Father's Smile

2011-06-12T20:40:00.002-05:00

Dad a few weeks ago.

Dad, at Thanksgiving last year.

Dad 5 years ago.

Today we put Dad in a hospice care home. It was too much for Mom to have him at their own home any longer. At 80, she has been heroic in her care for him since he was diagnosed last fall with Lymphoma of the bone marrow - all the time, taking care of the home, the laundry, the shopping, and more recently, the cooking. We knew when Dad stopped cooking and baking bread, his days were numbered. Today, for the first time in his life, he did not want to get dressed. He always has dressed thoughtfully, thinking about how his shirt will look with his pants. His own mother taught him to do that. When Dad didn't want to get dressed today, Mom knew something had changed.

It is so hard to write this. I don't even know if I should. But, then I think that everyone either has or will go through this. It isn't a secret that we die. It isn't something to be ashamed of. I have learned that it is a profound experience to witness and move through the death of someone so eternally close to you. I couldn't have imagined. Birth and Death are so yin and yang - so painfully and preciously complementary.

The last few days at home, his pain was so deep and unrelenting at times, that we would hear him breathing with a kind of moan on the outbreath. It was private. He was not grandstanding. It is the real deal. The only thing I could compare it to is the labor of childbirth - how the breath is used to take the attention off the pain and somehow move through it, to accept it. Dad said today, when I asked him how he was at one point, he smiled at me and said, "You just accept it."

What is most remarkable to me is this. In this unimaginable pain - of a raging cancer in the bone, with tumors jutting out of his fragile chest, with numbness and pain so deep into his body cavities, I cannot talk about it, he is still able to smile and say "Thank you."

When I was there this weekend, I asked, "Dad, would you like to join us on the patio for wine?"(What a stupid question, I soon realized. He can no longer move about safely.)

He smiled at me fully. "No, honey."

I began to walk out the door.

"But...thank you," he said.

Later, when I went to tuck him for the night, laying there so broken and fragile, I held his hand. "I hope you have a peaceful night," I said.

"I'm sorry to put you through this," was his reply.

I told him how honored I am to go through this with him. He is not bitter, or niggling, or angry. He has been courageous, patient, and grateful through the entire process. He has shown me not only how to live, but how to die. I am one lucky girl.

Baxter: Made in Italy

2011-06-09T07:19:00.001-05:00

Killer good furniture. Running out to a photo shoot, so don't have time to write much. But as I am looking for some new things in furniture for clients, I went to the Baxter site this morning. I have only seen it advertised in my shelter mags. wow. Makes you just want to move to Italy.

Oh, yeah, I already wanted to do that. Still...take a look!

Here is the website: http://www.baxter.it/2008/eng/baxter.php

As if Hot Flashes aren't bad enough, it has to be 102 degrees?

2011-06-07T20:50:00.002-05:00

It is almost 9. I am sooo ready for bed. Not sleeping. Too hot. Awake every 2 hours soaking my sheets with night sweats. Menopause is stupid. As if aging isn't bad enough, losing your waist and gobbly looking necks, the gods have to throw this at us too? Is this the older woman's version of pimples? Give me pimples anyday. I'm not happy. I have always loved hot weather and humidity - until now! It is like I am in a constant hot flash - a constant Charleston, SC August.

Lee came to hug me tonight and told me I was so hot.

Really? That's so nice of you, honey. But because I am so tired, I don't really feel that "hot."

Then, of course, I realized he meant the temperature of my body was insane. Like dripping. Like boiling. Not the other kind of "hot."

Our apartment is 80 degrees with 3 air conditioners running. I read that the body of a woman having a hot flash rises 6 degrees on the skin! Isn't that like 104 degrees! if our body temp is normally 98.6!!! Jeesh. Too much hot.

Right now, I am sweating on my sofa. Ringing wet. Please advise if you have any tips.
Of course, if I wait a few days, it could be snowing again here in Minnesota.

Missing Italy

2011-06-05T21:32:00.000-05:00

"Production shoes exhibit" at the Ferragamo Museum.

style. like, how do you even do this? why am I drawn to this?

2011-06-02T19:11:00.001-05:00

Giovanna Battaglia's bag. What is it? An image of the Madonna on see-through lace? She is currently the fashion editor at L’Uomo Vogue and also works as a freelance stylist. She was a former model for Dolce e Gabbana. Whether in a home or an outfit, I love love love these little personal moments of self-expression.

Photo from Garance Dore. (www.garancedore.com) Fabulous site.

Images from a Recent Project - with Jean Rehkamp Larson, Architect Extraordinaire

2011-05-28T07:09:00.005-05:00

The kitchen. Ann Sacks tile, La Cornue range, cabinets by Jon Frost (love his work!)

Lovely CW Smith chest in the entry with Laura Kirar mirror from Baker.

Wowser! The powder room with Osborne and Little wallpaper.

An amazing piece we found in NYC at Flair - 40's French, vellum front doors.

Overall of the beautiful living room - French doors and tracery on ceiling.

Florence Knoll chair in Rubelli brocade! A personal favorite.

We will be photographing this project in the next couple of weeks with Susan Gilmore.
But I had to get a few of my own shots for my portfolio - some details. Lots more to see, but here's a sneak peek.

Hippie Salad Recipe - Otherwise Known as Kitchen Sink Salad

2011-05-28T06:20:00.007-05:00

The salad - this is what the carrots look like.

Sprouted beans from Linden Hills Coop - in a small bag near the other sprouts. They add the "crunch" to the salad and are just delicious! The restaurant used black-eyed peas, but I don't want to cook the dried version. Too lazy.

I over-promised and under-delivered. I told you I'd have this up 2 days ago....hope your lettuce hasn't wilted in the wait.

So, since I made this up based on what I saw and tasted, I don't have a real recipe. Just use my hands for measuring. This makes enough salad for both Lee and me to have a big plateful for lunch.

A handful + some of mixed greens.
A handful + some of Micro greens (these take it to the next level
if you can find them! I get mine at the coop or from a local farmer /
farmer's market. You could try a good arugula instead.)
A small handful of alfalfa sprouts
A small handful of sprouted beans (also from the coop in the produce
section.)
A small handful of sunflower seeds
A large carrot - grated with a potato peeler into strips

Dressing:
About 1/2 of a juicy lemon - may need more if it isn't juicy (maybe 2 T.)
Best quality olive oil - REALLY, it makes a difference. About 3 T - 1/4 c
Touch of salt and pepper
The salad at the restaurant had about a Tablespoon of pesto added. I have
done it with and without and both ways are fine.

That's it. You could add thin slices of purple onion if you really love onion.

Add a bran muffin with raisins and you are set to go. (That may have been the wrong thing to say. :-) Well, lets just say, this is lots of good fiber and your body will be really happy.

The whole thing makes me feel like I should be wearing faded bell-bottoms, a pucker top, and my Kork-ease, listening to Maria Muldaur while making stuffed green peppers from Diet for a Small Planet (for those of you who are too young, this is about 1975 - 76.) I really did all those things.

Happy weekend! Buon Apetito.

Back to Mad-town: Fromag Nation and Underground Kitchen

2011-05-25T21:22:00.017-05:00

The Brussels-esque exterior of Fromag Nation.

The enticing sandwiches.

Notice the dried magnolia decorating the perimeter.

A display of the unimaginable assortment of cheeses.

Well, life got in the way and I never finished my posts about Madison.

It must be said that Madison is an incredibly sophisticated food town. It is just crazy how hip it is given the size and, frankly, location in the middle of the Midwest.
I did not have a bad meal the entire weekend. I can actually say I had only great food all weekend. And I am a very picky critic.

The most impressive place was a shop called Fromage Nation. I just love the name. It is so grandiose in a funny way. It is honestly better than any cheese shop I have seen in NYC or Italy or anywhere, for that matter. Many of the cheeses are made in Wisconsin. Daily, there are samples. Voluptuous sandwiches are served. Swags of magnolia border the shop. The exterior looks like something you might see in Brussels. The whole thing is just ridiculously charming, all the more that no one is dressed in black with a cacophany of Prada and Hermes labels hanging around.
Instead there are sweaters and jeans and stocking caps and darling babies. It makes you want to part with your inheritance and load your refrigerator with cheese!

The other place we went that was impressive is a super hip place called Underground Kitchen. Well, even the name makes a slightly counter-culture person like me happy. Started by a group of 20 and 30-something foodies, the place makes its own TONIC, for god's sake!, charcuterie, bread, (natch) and the best hippie salad since the ones I made out of Diet for a Small Planet in 1973. I can eat the thing every single day. It is the new diet dish. I paid attention as best I could after the lovely ginger - gin drink and made the salad at home. Will post the recipe tomorrow. Salute! (as they say in Italian, meaning "to your health!")

Photos from Underground Kitchen:

One of the owners working the bar.

The hippie salad.

I love how these glasses look - filled with lemon zest, lime zest, olives, accoutrements for drinks!

Lee's goat stew. Yes, goat.

The gin and ginger drink. Refesh-alista!

The flannel shirt crowd. Hats allowed indoors.

Flower Basics

2011-05-18T14:48:00.002-05:00

One of my clients asked for a guide for how to do flowers. Since I follow the KISS formula (keeping it simple, stupid) I just sent her what I know. Realized it might be helpful for others, too....The photos are some of the arrangements I've done to give you an idea of how simple this really is.

First,I buy my flowers 3 places in Minneapolis: Kohler and Dramm for branches, Lunds for orchids, roses, lilies and whatever else inspires me, Bachmans have lovely larger roses and occasionally something else interesting.

For a dramatic, branchy arrangement (my favorite!), I love flowering cherry in the Spring. You just have to go into the cooler areas and see what they have - it will change seasonally. I use cherry, forsythia, curly willow and whatever else I can find that is a branch in a vase like that one. The vase should be about 18" high and about 8" around. I like clear glass best. But good with other options, too.

A secondary vase - at about 14 - 16" with a top that kind of opens at the top is good for bushier flowers like lilies, tall tulips, lilac - anything that gets bigger at the top or spills over the edge.It can be used for slightly shorter flowers that still have a big dramatic effect. White lilies are great - and then you just have to see what is available that is around 24" tall. Buy more than you think. You can always use the extra somewhere else.

For the smaller container - my standby is a bunch of roses. (Containers at about 6" high and 3-6" opening. I love orange, white and yellow roses, especially - small to large - all okay. It will take one full bunch for a smallish vase.Start by cutting one - put it in the vase and the head should just come over the rim. The stem should be at the bottom.Pull off some of the leaves or it gets too messy.Then you can cut the rest the same length - maybe a couple just a bit taller for the center of the vase.Most roses should be bought 1-2 days before a party so they will be opened properly.

I also like tulips - get lots! Cut them a touch longer than you might imagine. They shouldn't be bunched like roses.

Other great flowers for shorter bunches are dahlias (from Two Pony Gardens in Orono! www.twoponygarden.com) and always, peonies.

To make any flower open, put hot water in the vase.

Mad-town: Part 3

2011-05-16T14:47:00.002-05:00

Flowers - even though 45, windy and rainy.

A baby carrot top!

The beautiful spring asparagus.

Isabelle shopping the market.

OMG. I hope I make it out of here alive. I have never, ever seen people able to drink so much - and still stand up. After Day 1, I took a vow of moderation. So, while others started at 11:00 a.m. with a Bloody and a Beer chaser (the ONLY way a Bloody is served here), I primly drank another glass of water. While Izzy and her 7 roommates and their mildly small families polished off a keg of some kind of very fancy Wisconsin brew, I sipped red wine because I know what that does to me. I just can't keep up. But....people are having a good time!

To this point, here is a CRAZY YouTube about the drinking in Wisconsin. Warning: "F-Bombs" heavily dropped.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=7WlwumGkSec#at=181

Yesterday morning in the most ridiculously awful weather (45-degrees, wind, and mist) we went to the farmer's market, which wraps itself around the block of the beautiful icy white capital building. Isabelle says it is the largest purveyer's farmer's market in the US - the owners have to be on site at the market. It was fantastic - and busy - even in this heinous weather. The masses of darling babies, young couples, and a handful of older people were really charming. There were more than a few "HOT DADS DOING COOL SHIT" as Izzy calls darling fathers doing cool things. (She thinks this should be a blog and I totally think she is right!) One dad, about 35 - 40, had on a cute stocking hat, Elvis Costello glasses, his 6-month old baby girl in a front pack and he was carrying a bunch of tulips. He moved by me too quickly to get a shot. But the point was taken.

Mad-town: Part 2

2011-05-14T09:11:00.007-05:00

The non-descript building where we went for dinner.

The sign points to the basement - home of "The Greenbush Bar" (really a bar and Italian restaurant.)

Signs of protest on the wall. I love how it isn't "framed" just tacked to the wall. This is very good design. Pay attention, restaurant designers!

The sausage pizza - heavy with anise. Look at all the cornmeal left on the plate.

Kelly and Tom at the bar.

To these points: We went to a bar / restaurant around 3 to have a drink. The owners started the Slow Food movement in Madison and word on the street is that the fried cheese curds are amazing The place had 50 WISCONSIN beers on TAP! They had another 75 bottled beers. This is where people, including the waitress and 4 of Izzy's friends started speaking in "beer" . I am not fluent in beer and had no idea what they were saying. I said "dark, please" and Izzy's friend, Gino, told us what kind of beer we should order, based on my crude and un-nuanced description.

For dinner, at 9:00, we went to a true hole in the wall - The Greenbush Bar. This is the kind of place that someone on the Lower East Side of Manhattan would KILL to own - or recreate. There is NO sign outside. It is in some funked up building called the Italian Workmen's Club. You will see photos here. Inside, you walk down into a basement and the place is packed - but not so loud you want to run screaming into the night. The service was really friendly and the pizza and salad were divine. Isabelle claims it is her favorite pizza crust ever - coated in corn meal on the bottom. The homemade sausage was flavored with anise and the salad was simple and fresh with lemon and oil. Izzy's comment on the place? "One great thing about Wisconsin...everything is genuine." I couldn't argue in this case.

The beef dishes were made with local grass fed beef. This didn't look like that kind of place. "Farming is Wisconsin. They support the local farmers," she said.

As I looked at the appetizers she'd purchased for earlier in the evening, sure enough - all the amazing cheeses were local including a lovely fresh goat cheese made yesterday - even the crackers - Potter's Crackers were made in Wisconsin. This pride reminded me of Italy...so much commitment to sustainable local food.

The weather sucks, the view out my window isn't great, people have funny accents, but you gotta love a place that knows how to make great cheese and celebrate.

Mad-town: Part 1

2011-05-14T09:03:00.003-05:00

The refrigerator of the condo where we are staying the weekend.

My daughter's closet.

The "promenade" - the name given to the back deck by Izzy and her roomies. It looks like an al fresco version of an AA meeting to me.

The Living Room.

Ay-yi-yi. A Jim Morrison flag decorates the wall. Beer cans decorate the front railing. Izzy's shoes sleep huddle in a pile like a new batch of puppies, the back deck looks like it is set up for a therapy group - the talking stick is probably a bong. Where am I?

If you guessed my daughter's college house in Madison, Wisconsin - where she lives with 7 other women, you are right. We arrived yesterday after a harrowing drive on 94 West - the trucking hell of a highway. 5 hours - 3 of them white-knuckling our way along the asphalt ribbon with semis swaying across the center line with the gusts of wind.

I remember why I never visited my daughter once in college. I dropped her here in August of 2007 during a time of my life when I was having some kind of breakdown - insomnia, anxiety, generally falling apart - like a tsunami of hormones had kidnapped Alecia. The experience was so grim (including a storm - with tornado - that prevented me from seeing even the front of my own car, let alone the semis that had me blocked in on all sides, some of them tumbling into the ditch.) I vowed never, ever to return until the day she graduated and I have kept my word. The whole experience left a very sour taste like post traumatic stress and I simply wasn't mature enough to overcome it. To be fair...Lee lived and worked in NY during this time and she was in Madrid for a year.(We DID visit her in Madrid!)

I adore Isabelle, so I would send her a ticket to come to NY to visit, or a ticket to come home, but I couldn't find either the time or the courage to return to I-94 heading east. Now, I have returned and it is 50 and cloudy and windy and it is May 14. (Of course, it is 45 in Minneapolis today. God help us.)

We are here to celebrate Izzy's graduation from UW Madison - here with uncles extraordinaire Kelly and Tom. I bought Alexander a ticket to fly in from Houston and his flights have been cancelled - twice now. He is not coming. Lee is here with me. In the 18 hours that I have been here I have learned FOUR things about Madison:

1. They drink a lot here. I really mean A LOT.

2. They speak a strange language. "Beer-ese" - saying things like "hoppy" and IPA or APA. I have no idea what these terms mean.

3 Madison is into food.

4. People here have an accent that is even funnier than in Minnesota.

Thank you overdue

2011-05-10T09:05:00.002-05:00

I just want to say thank you for reading my blog - and for all you brave souls who comment! That makes my day.

love, happiness, peace.

a

News Flash - Hot Flash

2011-05-09T20:41:00.001-05:00

ugh-o! The hot flashes have hit. I'm 57. My mother never had them. I thought I'd escaped the strange somatic phenomena. But, no. They started about 6 - 8 weeks ago. Night after night, I fall asleep under my down and within hours, am kicking it off like I'm suffocating. I need a plastic wrap around my mattress like an old person to protect the new mattress from my sweat. During the day, I turn beet red, sweat like LeBron James in the playoffs and lose all capacity for concentration.

I am seeing my acupuncturist. He swears he has saved women going through menopause from the wrath of their children, husbands, and sometimes entire towns by calming the overwhelmingly icky symptoms which makes you just crabby.

It seems to have taken over my life. My eyes are puffy. I was actually caught putting frozen spoons on them this morning to shrink the puffiness. Unfortunately, I almost peeled the skin off my lids because the frozen metal was so cold, it practically stuck to the skin! Lee saw me and threatened to call a mental institution. I am not sleeping of course because I awaken every 2 hours drenched in sweat, with my blood pressure rising. (Yes, I can feel it!) It makes me sad or something - that my dear husband will think less of me as a lover. He says I'm being silly. But, still, you kind of wonder. Crazed, sweaty woman without periods. Does that sound attractive? I know it is dumb. Men go through their own "menopause" too. I call it "mAnopause."

Whatever. It bugs me. Usually acupuncture does the trick - I'm still working with it. If you have any great tips, let me know.

Weekend Update and Mother's Day

2011-05-08T20:24:00.014-05:00

DInner - took 20 minutes! Grass fed tenderloin from Linden Hills coop, organic everything else....so good! (Beats Heidi's steak at 4 times the price.) Mixed greens with olive oil, gorgonzola and walnuts. Roasted asparagus.

Mixed berries for dessert. Strawberries, raspberries, blueberries. 1 T. sugar brings out the juice. Top with cream.

I follow Alice Waters' recipe for tenderloin. Let meat sit out to come to room temp for 45 - 60 min. with olive oil, salt and pepper. I cook mine on a griddle at medium heat - 4 min per side for med rare. 5 min per side for medium. At some point, I poured a touch of my red wine (right out of my glass!) over the meat. Just a touch.

Roasted asparagus - cut tips back to about 4". Spread out in baking dish. drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper. Roast in 325 degree oven for about 15 min. Check them with fork. If too hard, leave in a couple more min. Don't overcook!

So, I had the weekend of all weekends. I had NOTHING on my calendar. Not a social engagement! (Don't get me wrong - I love to see my friends, but I was still weirdly jetlagged. Acting like I was on vacation and unable to concentrate. Balance my checkbook? Oh, who needs it!) A free calendar is like someone gave me the Hope-fricking diamond. NOTHING I had to do. So, I did whatever I wanted when I wanted it and that is the greatest luxury in the world to me.

Saturday...omg. There was sun, the temperature approached 70 and there was no wind. Lake Harriet was placid, like a mirror. The first turtles were out sunning themselves. Lee thinks the female ducks are on their nests while the dads seem to be a bit nervous. Pressure. I'm not sure. We saw a giant raccoon on a branch in the daytime. Maybe he thought he was hiding, but the thin leaves gave him away. No matter - the walk was bliss.

Yesterday, I met a client, organized my new "closet" which is really Izzy's old bedroom. Our 1920's apartment is short on closets, so I keep my clothes on a rolling rack. In our bedroom, it was certainly convenient, but it was a mess - the lighting is bad, and it had to be horrible feng shui to sleep in the beehive of clothes that were strewn at the end of the bed. At night, on my way to the bathroom, I inevitably tripped over a pair of Frye boots.

So, with no one coming home this summer (we both pray for ourselves and for our daughter's sake) I can take on the empty room. There is a double bed for the rare times we have guests, of course, but right now it is a horizontal organizational tool - keeping my shoes, out of season clothing and those items that are dancing between "Keep it - you never know when you will lose five pounds" and "Please. Pass is on. You will never lose five pounds, you menopausal matron!"

Then, napping, a little blogging, shrimp dinner on Saturday, reading about the Medici family (fascinating!) On Sunday, the New York Times hour with cappuccino, yoga at 11, plenty of time at my desk in my pj's, talking with Lee about Jung and James Hillman, talking to my kids and my mom and the most delicious steak dinner! (Tenderloin from the coop - 100% grass fed beef, but how do they feed beef grass in January????)

The Mother's Day part? My kids did the phone call on Mother's Day thing (one is in Houston, TX and the other in Madison, WI) and sent a sweet email card Izzy whipped up. Zan told me I have been the "perfect mom". Schmoozer. (Highly unlikely, but I'll take it.) I realized that not being with them is somehow just right- that they are so engaged in their own lives is all I could ask for them.

My kids just rock right now in my eyes. Zan and his girlfriend, Jessie, just got jobs teaching in Brooklyn at The Uncommon Schools (charter schools for low-income students of color). I'm so excited to know that I'll have them for Sunday dinners in NY. Izzy graduates from Madison (UW) next Sunday - so we are going to party, party, party all weekend with Kelly and Tom (my brother and brother-in-law - the uncles extraordinaire.) Zan coming from Houston to join us. She's interviewing for jobs in the real world.

In many ways, when your kids are good, life is good. When our children are troubled, it is worse than being troubled ourselves. Motherhood is such a lovely state of being. From the minute you see their first breath to their adulthood. The responsibilities may recede slightly, but the soul quality of motherhood is never, ever is diminished by time. Tell me about your Mother's Day!

Run, Don't Walk to See "Bill Cunningham NEW YORK" - zeitgeist films - Edina Theatre

2011-05-07T17:21:00.004-05:00

Last night Lee and I went to see the movie, "Bill Cunningham NEW YORK". As a dedicated fashionista, I could hardly wait to see it. Bill Cunningham is the 81-year old New Yorker who rides around the city chronicling the fashion on the street for the New York Times. He's worked for the Times for decades, had an unhappy stint at WWD (Women's Wear Daily) in the '70's and an extraordinarily creative position with the original Details magazine, where he was given free reign to do whatever pleased him - much to the benefit of the reader.

Every Sunday, I sit with my coffee, turn to page 4 of the Styles Section before looking at anything else, to see what fashion trends Bill has seen on the streets this past week. He shoots in New York traversing the chaos of that city by bike. On and off all day long and well into the evening to shoot the charity events, he snaps photos of shoes, hats, full outfits, legs, decollete - generally looking for people with great, great style. (He's on his 29th bike now as the other 28 have been stolen.) He goes to Paris twice a year "to fashion school" - referencing the fashion shows.

But his real love is not the model and he actually seems to disdain the celebrities "in their free dresses!" He passionately loves the everyday woman (and man) on the street, with their budgets (some of them large! others not so...) their creativity, their courage to express themselves. He passionately loves people of all ages. He followed Lady Astor to her 100th birthday. He follows Annette de la Renta, Diane Keaton, the Laurens, and two of his personal favorites, Anna Wintour, of American Vogue and Anna Piaggi of Italian Vogue.

Anna Piaggi wearing Chanel with Karl Lagerfeld

Anna Piaggi...well, being Anna Piaggi

Anna Wintour

(None of these photos were taken by Bill, but give you an idea of why he might want to photograph these women - and they aren't 20!)

I really don't want to say more - to give anything away. IF you love fashion, this movie is a must for that reason alone. Bill Cunningham may be one of the most important people in the fashion world. If you just want to see something lovely, something uplifting, something that isn't about nuclear radiation poisoning or Bin Laden or something that Donald Trump, Sarah Palin, or Michelle Bachman said that sends us all running for the bottle - then you will love this movie too.

I have to add one thing. It really made me miss New York. I liked Rome. I HEART NEW YORK.

The story of a cancer patient

2011-05-01T13:26:00.006-05:00

I spent this past Thursday with my parents at Mayo Clinic. I may have mentioned in previous posts that my dad is very ill with lymphoma of the bone marrow. He is 82. My dear mother is 80 with the physical energy of a 50-year old (most days.) She needs it because there is much to do when one's beloved is in pain, is wobbly on his feet, and needs help with many of life's simplest tasks. She is a saint and has been for most of my life.

She emailed on Wednesday:

I am wondering if you would be free tomorrow,Thursday, to go with us to Mayo? Dad is a bit weak and wobbly this week, and an extra person might be nice. I know this is very short notice; and it is perfectly okay to say no if you cannot go. His first appointment is not until 9:30, for blood, so we do not have to leave at the crack of dawn----if we leave shortly after 8:00, it would be fine. His last chemo may not be over until nearly 6:00, however, so this might mean you would want to stay over here Thursday night, or even tonight.

sorry to spring this on you, luv, Mom

"Sorry to spring this on you." From the parents who diapered me, fed me, clothed me, educated me, loved me, nurtured me, taught me to garden and cook and sew and told me to act and design and love.

"I can go," I said after clearing my schedule.

I went. I left at 6:45 a.m. (I am sooo not an early morning person.) Their Camry was warming up when I arrived. Dad drove. He can't stand the thought of losing his independence. We drove west out of Northfield on Highway 9 toward Hwy 52 which takes us into Rochester. More than once, I commented on how beautiful it was. The black dirt, newly turned for the seeds, the wispy brown trees feathered with lime green buds, a white clapboard church with its proud steeple, the barns red, the color of dried blood, fields of green patch-worked among the dirt. The road curved, it climbed soft hills and descended into quiet misty valleys. At one point, I said, "This reminds me of parts of Tuscany, the beautiful hilly farmland. The cypress trees are missing. Okay, and the Medieval fortresses on the hills. But otherwise, the colors and the feeling are similar."

After parking, gathering our gear for the day, which included backpacks and water, we made our way to the entrance where dad found a wheelchair and I became the driver. My mother was grateful alone for this blessing! Having to push my father all over the clinic has become too much for her.

Like good soldiers following orders, we moved from one appt to the next - from having his blood drawn to meeting with my father's doctor of thirty years, Dr. Louis LeTendre, a hematologist and oncologist. A direct, proper man - perhaps only a few years older than me - Dr. LeTendre treated my father for lymphoma thirty years ago when it first appeared in a lymph node, then for a secondary cancer ten years later. He has "cured" my father of cancer two times. When he saw Dad walk into his office last October, he knew he was dying - without so much as a test. In fact, the tests revealed that some form of lymphoma had awakened from its long sleep and rapidly spread through his bones - in a matter of months. At his May 2010 check up, there were no signs. By October, he was weeks away from death. Dear Dr. LeTendre said, "Mr. Krebs, I've given you bad news before. This is different. I cannot cure you this time." Then he went on to ask my father, "Have you had a good life?" Every time I think of this level of care, I weep. It means so much to my parents.

He said there are only two options: hospice or chemo, which may or may not help. He said, "The right choice is one you choose." Dad chose chemo. Apparently, he wasn't quite ready to die. He told me he wanted to make it to the 60th anniversary of my parent's wedding, which was in Mar this year. Dr. LeTendre backed the decision and suggested 6 rounds of chemo, once a month for 6 months. Each "round" is 3 different types of chemo for a total of 5 hours of poison / medicine dripping into his veins, causing chills, nausea, vomiting, exhaustion. Hell in a bag I call it. But, the poison that wracks his living body, also kills the cancer.

It has been 5 months since the chemo treatments began. I sat in the office with the doctor, my mother and my father. He, in his examining gown, on the edge of the examining table, thin, hairless legs dangling, shoulder blades like the remnants of angel wings on his shriveling back. The hair on his head is not even gray, but just pale and sparse - this from the head of thick black hair he had most of his life. His face is gaunt, sometimes ghost-like to me, his sharp, elegant nose more prominent now.

Watching the doctor examine my father, it seemed old=fashioned somehow. Instead of technology, he used the old tools of the trade, testing reflexes, listening to his lungs, pounding on his chest, using his hands to feel his neck and around the orbits of his eyes. He watched him walk, asked him to stand on his toes, raise a leg - when he couldn't do this, he began a new line of questioning and testing with a feather. "Can you feel this? This? This?" as he moved the feather from his thigh to his hips to his feet. After spending 45 minutes in his office, I agree that Dr. LeTendre deserves the reputation he has in our family. In fact, they think Dr. LeTendre walks on water. 45 minutes. When was the last time you spent 45 minutes with a doctor? His care for my father was palatable, caring, and kind.

He went to the first chemo treatment, sitting in a chair in a room with 5 others receiving chemo at the same time. My mother thinks its "neat" how it's set up, how the nurses bring snacks around. I don't quite share her view. It seems remarkable how they care for the body at Mayo - but I don't think I would describe it as "neat" - or, in the vernacular of my own generation, "cool." After one hour, during which mom and I found something to eat in the cafeteria, we wheeled dad to his next session - a fairly new German chemo drug developed by a man with the last name of my father (Krebs). Seems a coincidence, no? For this one, he is in a single room, in bed for the whole 3-4 hour drip. He would rest - so would we. Mom and I went to the Mayo quiet room - a heavenly dark room with a circle of recliners and soft, clean flannel blankets in a pile in the corner. Mom and I both napped for an hour or more. What a good idea this is. I realize how exhausting the emotional work can be.

We returned to Dad's room with fresh coffee to keep us going. It was now 4:30 and he had another 2 hours to go. (Remember we left Northfield at 8:00 a.m.!) He had the chills and could barely speak. This was so upsetting to me - to see him shivering, unable to say what he needed. I asked the nurse for more blankets and she brought two warm ones. It helped. He was in a great deal of pain - there is cancer in his back and ribs and it can be incredibly painful. I felt he needed to be alone - so I left the room and left mom there with him.

After an hour or so, I went back in; he was almost done, the clear bag flattened and soon the beeping began. Chemo over for today. The nurse came in, prepared him for leaving. It was 6:30 in the evening. We would have to leave at 5:30 the next morning to make the 7:00 a.m. chemo treatment the next day. He began to vomit, although with almost nothing to eat all day, it was mostly dry heaves. I don't recall seeing my father sick like this in my whole life. At least not in a way that made me feel so helpless - there was nothing I could do but be there for them, to help him get to the car, wobbly and weak from the chemo, exhausted, in pain and probably tired of it all.

On the drive home, we again, took Highway 9 west toward the sunset. I drove. My mother couldn't have done it - emotionally ripped apart by this process each and every month. My father sat next to me in the front seat, eyes shut, trying to hold back the nausea, but miraculously able to tell me where to turn, what speed to drive, that I had a green light and when to get over from one lane to the other. Some things never change.

The beauty of the landscape - the iconic images of the farmland in the spring - and the matter of driving my father through it all brought tears to my eyes. I thought of how this would be the
last spring he would see, this man who grew up on a farm, who farmed until I was ten, and then continued to work with farmers in the insurance industry. A man who knew exactly what he was seeing in the soil, knew what was green in the pastures, knew what would likely be planted where. Without a miracle, this is the last spring he will see and the last spring I will say to him, "Isn't this farmland beautiful?"

My uber chic client - in Faribault, MN - population 3000?

2011-04-26T18:24:00.012-05:00

I just finished this wonderful home in Faribault, MN. Although their primary home is in Sweden, their sons attend Shattuck-St. Mary's, she serves on the board and, naturally, they enjoy spending time with their sons. Voila! A secondary home in Faribault. I went to take some snapshots today. This was a really wonderful project - there wasn't one piece of furniture or an accessory in the home when we started last fall. We completed it in 6-7 months. She was on a mission, has fabulous taste and a quick mind - all of which made the project fun, fast, and seem to fall in place like magic. It is a wonderful concoction of Baker, Knapp & Tubbs, Holly Hunt, Jon Frost cabinets, vintage, Aubry Angelo rugs including one by Jan Kath and Rose Tarlow hemp for draperies.

To prove her sartorial taste, Bill Cunningham recently stopped her on Madison Avenue in NY (where she spends quite a bit of time) with her little dog, Ted. She was looking incredibly chic and landed in the NY Times a couple of weeks ago in "On the Street". She's on the far right - with Ted.

Diana Kellogg's Apartment in Manhattan

2011-04-25T19:09:00.000-05:00

My dear friend / client Sabena sent me this link today - so much goodness to digest! I had forgotten how inspiring this website can be - so thank you, Sabena, for reminding me. Here is a link to Diana's apartment / loft. So easy, relaxed, natural. Lots to learn here!

Here is a link to her own website - worth taking the time to noodle around! I'm sorry I can't get the photos to transfer.

http://www.dkarchitects.com/res8.html

Back to the Design World

2011-04-25T07:43:00.002-05:00

Can you tell I'm back at work? Haven't had time to post for a week. I woke up to this image in one of my emails from Hickory Chair. I don't think of Hickory Chair as a high end company - nice middle of the road company and really useful for that! But, I thought this was a great way to put it all together. Love the one piece of wood. Happy Monday!

There are no chickens. There is snow.

2011-04-20T20:12:00.005-05:00

The local rooster - our Italian alarm clock.

My Equipment shirt drying in the Italian sun.

Our final days in Italy...

Lilac - Lee's favorite flowering bush

On the terrace.

We are home from Italy. I should be wrapped in a straightjacket. The sky is not blue. (Please notice the color of the sky in the 2nd photo.) The temperature hovers at freezing and there is snow this morning. I had to scrape it from my car so that I could safely see to drive.

We are lame at planning. The deal was this: we go to Italy Mar 14 to April 14 and, when we return, winter will be a shadowy memory.

Wrong.

Oh, well. The Italian lilac sweetly swirls in my memory. As does the rooster's crow and the ringing of the bells and the breeze that dried the clothing and the beer on the terrace and the morning cappuccino and the sleepy mornings.

Spring will come to Minnesota too.

Right?

The News from San Cassione

2011-04-12T13:04:00.004-05:00

The chicken that hangs out in our road.

Sugo Gabriella - the tomato sauce our landlord brought to us yesterday. Made and canned in her own kitchen.

How we spent the day in Italy. Doing laundry.

Gabriella's crocheted potholders.

There is no news that we know of.

Last night, we had a dining experience like none we've ever had. We were a little tire of cooking so went to the local "bar" (in Italy a "bar" is a place where you go get coffee or a drink - usually standing at a bar - and small foods that you might also eat standing. This bar also has a restaurant attached, a terrace overlooking a vast expanse of mountains awakening to spring - pale green powder puffs of leaves coming to life on the hills.

We arrived at the restaurant about 7:30 - and, surprise, you silly Americans! - were the first ones there. They kindly led us to a table on the terrace when we said we would like to eat al aperto. A woman asked us what we wanted to drink - she did not speak English - so I told her vino rosso and Lee asked for a vodka. She didn't know what that was so we went into the bar area with her - and pointed to what he wanted "with tonic". She was puzzled, then realized it was aqua tonica. Within moments, I had my wine and Lee had something resembling a vodka tonic without ice.

She returned to bring us plates, flatware, napkins, olive oil and parmesan cheese in a bowl with a spoon. No menu. I thought we were just very early and they weren't even set up to serve yet. But they were very kind and did not kick us out!

About 10 minutes later, they brought us warm focaccia. It was delicious dipped in the oil. Still no menu. Another 15 minutes and someone brought out a plate of maccheroni. It was covered in Bolognese sauce. It was really more like a ravioli without anything in the middle, a flat pasta about 1 - 2" square. Now we knew we weren't going to get a menu.

Because we had no idea what was to follow we heartily ate of the fresh that day pasta and sauce (we smelled it cooking when we were there earlier that day for cafe.) By the time we finished our share of the pasta (and we didn't finish it!) they brought the Secondi (second course.) Lovely little roasted potatoes and a plate of oh-so-amazing-i-don't-really-know-what-all-it-was roast beef - sliced as thin as paper, perfectly medium rare, drizzled in olive oil and served room temperature. OMG. Well, Lee and I inhaled that, but laughed that really this was quite a lot of food! As we sat back with full bellies to catch a breath, the waitress arrived with the next course! Delicately fried fresh from the garden zucchini and a bird of some kind, which we never touched.

We had to tell the waitress (who was also the cook) that the meal was buonissimo! But, it was a bit too much. We couldn't eat everything! I hope we didn't make an enemy for life. I think she was surprised! I ate as many of the zucchini as possible and have sworn to figure out how to make it! Lee was by now leaning back in his chair to make room for everything he had just inhaled.

When, without warning, two bowls of ice cream pie land in front of us. Well, we have to eat it. Who can turn down a nice Italian dessert when the cook is serving it to you. After 2 hours, we asked for the check, she met us at the bar at the register and told us the bill was 40 euro! That includes 2 vodka tonics and a 1/2 liter of wine.

We paid, with great enthusiasm, walked out into the planetarium sky, made our way home stealthily on the tiny paths back to our home in the dark.

I woke this morning - on our last full day here = and feel a deep gratitude for this place. The woman who owns the home came by yesterday with freshly canned homemade tomato sauce and pasta. I know this isn't some Disneyland version of a medieval Italian mountain village (for awhile I thought it might be) because there is not one single souvenir for sale anywhere! Not a t-shirt saying "I was high in San Cassione" (I can't believe I just thought of that.) No
bobble-head Italian grandmother with a broom, an apron and a flowered dress. Nope. It's all for real. And there seems to be no other news than that.

Retreat

2011-04-10T08:30:00.003-05:00

The view off our terrace - toward another little medieval village with bell tower.

The cobbled street to our little home. Used by chickens, people, dogs and very small cars.

Our "neigborhood". Houses built very closely together here - even though the whole village's population is probably about 350 people.

There was a church on this spot as early as 722! Motifs over the doorway are primitive, almost totem-like. So different than images from a Renaissance church.

Last Thursday, we left Florence by train (kissing the door as I said good-bye to our lovely Il Terrazzino apartment) and went to Pisa. There, we picked up a car and began a harrowing trip to a mountain village outside Bagni di Lucca, where Gabriella waited to take us to her childhood home, built in the 16th C. We are here because last summer we made a home exchange with Ron (Gabriella's son) who lives in London. He wanted to go to NY with his girlfriend and would we, in exchange, like to use his ancestor's home in San Cassiano, Italy? Well, it looked cute enough. Sure. Why not? It will force us to go to Italy in the Spring.

We couldn't have imagined what we were getting into. 4 hours after leaving the Pisa train station, and loaded with groceries because we had no idea what would be available in the village; with Lee at the wheel and me on the email trying to decipher directions which, if printed, are 5 pages long and include detailed photos of milestones; after missing many of said milestones and having to drive miles beyond to find a place to turn around on the narrow country roads; upon reaching the turn off to San Cassiano - a road about one car wide and with instructions to honk at the "corners" = which I think of as a point where two roads intersect, but which, in this case means when the curve is so sharp you cannot see around it and therefore must honk so that you don't run into someone coming around the corner, thus careening one of you over the side of the mountain; after all this, for what should have been a 90 minute drive, we arrived to meet Gabriella.

She couldn't have been more lovely, her hair gray, almost a bob, in a loose flowered dress, a patterned bib apron and spectacles, she showed us her family home and spoke in some dialect that merged English and italian - Engalian? She now lives down the hill and this home is for rent and for extended family during the summers.

I was still in some kind of trauma after the treacherous drive up the mountain - I had no idea this is where the home would be! I imagined the quiet rolling hills of Tuscany set off alone on a winding road surrounded by olive trees. Instead we find ourselves in a Medieval village on the side of a mountain - houses perched one above the other as they move up the hill. The road to our home is cobbled, wide enough for a car if the chickens, dogs and people are out of the way. Most people back down the little hill because there is no place to turn around once down it.

Life here seems frozen in about the 1940's but in the form of an ancient village. There are electric lines everywhere and we have perfect wifi. There are only tiny, mostly older cars - Fiats, Volkswagons. It is silent most of the day except for the chickens. The roosters crow in the morning and again in the evening. Clucking can be heard throughout the day. Territorial dogs bark occasionally. And, there are voices, but rarely. We have seen maybe 10 -15 people in the three days we have been here. The largest groups are gathered, talking at the macelleria (meat market) or the little (and I do mean little!) market next door where we buy water, bira, chocolate and potato chips.

It is also exquisitely Spring here. The sun is burning the winter out of us. The sky is brilliantly blue. The house is deliciously cool. THe flowering trees are awake - magnolia, camellia, apple. Happy tulips fill the clay boxes on our terrace.
We have fires at night; once the sun has descended, the mountain air cools quickly. The rooster awakens me. We make bad coffee and drink it on the terrace in plastic cups.

Yesterday I made fresh Bolognese. We eat rucula salads, lots of eggs, and tonight will go to the only restaurant in the village. Mostly, we read, think, talk, write, walk, cook and eat. It is so clear how important this retreat is after the stimulation of Rome, especially. I feel pregnant with ideas. (Much too old to be pregnant with anything else!)

As early as the 13th C, the word "retreat" meant "to draw back", to "withdraw" - especially from a dangerous situation. By the 15th C it referred to a place of seclusion. As I think of the modern world and the toll it takes on us, I can see that retreat is necessary. I have mine here and I wasn't even looking for it.

A Lesson for Frank Lloyd Wright from the Florentines

2011-04-08T03:46:00.005-05:00

Many years ago I visited Frank Lloyd Wright's own home in Evanston, Ill designed and built in the very late 19th Century.It was fantastic with glorious dark metallic walls plastered the color of bronze. On the tour, the guide mentioned the use of differing ceiling heights - something Wright became known for - to lend the sense of contraction and release as you move through the space (is this a rebirth experience????)

Yesterday, as we prepared to leave our sacred apartment in Florence, Il Terrazzino, I returned from lunch and took a long look at the beautiful Renaissance palazzo for a final time (this trip!) I saw the expression of contraction and release in this home - started in 1495 and completed around 1520. It's an old idea. but a beautiful one.

Here are some of the exquisite details of the palazzo. Bravo to the Di Ginori Lischis for keeping this building so very pure. (You can hardly imagine how bad - as in 70's-80's renovations - many of the ancient buildings are!)

The Entry of Palazzo di Ginori - Lee walking to the lift.

A Hallway to our apartment. Just freshly restored with the most beautiful chalky white plaster! Contraction....

Release!

Little passageway to our apartment.

Great light fixture on crisp white stucco. I love the bulbs!

Inside our apartment - the incredible old terracotta floor and armadio from who knows when???? (The armadio, which we know as an armoire - was used originally to store the suits of armor. A fun fact to know and tell!)

Florence as Feeling in pictures

2011-04-06T10:57:00.004-05:00

As a visual person, nothing tells me more about Florence than the images. Here are few. I've had very little time to write here. Heading to Bagni di Lucca tomorrow for a "retreat" the last week of this trip. It is an exchange we made for our apartment in New York - we've never been but sounded good! A country farmhouse in the mountains. Will keep you posted.

The oranges at Mercato Centrale - stacked in crates. It is one of our favorite places in Florence and a daily stop.

This guy gets the "Best Butcher" award in Mercato Centrale. He has the most beautiful meats and plays Dire Straight when he's at work.

Bottles of vino everywhere. In Il Magazzino - one of our favorite small osterias.

Insalata di Fagiole e Sopprasata (Salad of Beans and Salami - more like bacon.)

A pair of men talking on a bench near Il Duomo. Such style!

Tourists at the Doors of Paradise at the Baptistry - by Ghiberti - one of the events that started the Renaissance.

Boboli Garden at the Pitti Palace

2011-04-05T08:55:00.006-05:00

The Pitti Palace from the garden - Florence is ahead of the home and to the right.

Florence, the city, is not green. The streets are gray stones, the stucco piazzas and commercial buildings are, well, those beautiful shades of stucco. But there is little green. An occasional palm in an entrance. Today we went to see green at the Pitti Palace - just south of the Arno, the grand, very grand palace purchased by Medicis in 1549 (100 years after it was built by Luca Pitti, a Florentine banker.) You would think one palazzo in the city would be enough. i guess this was their suburban palace. Then, of course there is the Medici Villa in Fiesole and some 12th Century fortress of a villa - a working farm with olives and grapes farther out in the country. Oh, to be a Medici.

Into the formal garden

The Limonaia - just LOVED these finishes!!!

The formal garden - too early for flowers, but peonies are here - I'm sure there will be lemon trees later in the Spring.

View from the garden to the surrounding hillside

Part of the original fortress at Pitti Palace.

In Milan - from the Sartorialist Blog

2011-04-04T10:01:00.001-05:00

Love this. Someone who is covered instead revealing it all - and still so chic. (Though the sheer skirt does reveal, no???)

Dear, dear Florence

2011-04-03T09:44:00.007-05:00

The perfect weather, the quiet nights, the scale of the city, the Michelangelo sculptures tucked inside churches like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped, and the friendlier nature of the people have us mesmerized. Falling in love again - with Firenze, with humanity,with each other, with life, with sorrow, with potential - in potentia. It is a place that taps a hidden well. Suddenly, spring is in us - not just in the environment. We feel at home. What is that in a place? More to say once I figure it out. For now...some images:

Yes, this is Lee with a cigarette in his hand.

The cafe at the Palazzo Strozzi where we saw the Picasso / Miro / Dali show today.

The Arno - it is said that Dante and Beatrice fell in love on the bridge - Ponte Santa Trinita that we stand on here. It is our kissing bridge - so seems it may have a history of love!

The Baptistry, il Duomo, the Bell Tower by Giotto.

Looking out the window of our apartment - the Cappelle di Medici. Michelangelo designed it.

In the Palazzo di Ginori - just steps from our own interior apartment door. They have just restored this - I am in awe of their commitment to preserve this beautiful 15th Century building. Available for rent soon!

Where to start? The Anthroposophical Conference in Bologna

2011-04-02T13:21:00.009-05:00

The conference - a rather boring picture, but shows you what my life was like for 24 hours at the International Antroposophical Conference in Bologna, Italy. It really was very interesting and quite the bonding experience for Lee and me. I suddenly know a little bit more about which he is talking. It has mostly been gibberish until now. I do wish you could see all the purple.

A quick snippet of Bologna archtitecture.

A Bolognese lunch! So perfectly Atkins and delicious.

So, the last couple of days have been funny, entertaining, hectic, moving, insightful, sad, poignant - I'm running out of words.

On Thursday, we left Roma for a conference in Bologna. I think I can safely say that we were both ready. Rome is very grand, but full of very crabby people. That's all I'm going to say about it. We were leaving to go to the Anthroposophical Conference at the University of Bologna.

It was really a trip. (So how do I even explain Anthroposophy? I'll try.) The event was an international conference on the philosophy of Rudolf Steiner, celebrating the 100 year anniversary of what is now called the "Bologna lectures." The amazing thing about the University of Bologna is this: it is the oldest university in the Western World - circa 1088. It is FANTASTIC to think of this.

Many of you know that Steiner (please do say "Shti-nur") created the Waldorf School movement, biodynamic agriculture where the organic standards were more strict in the 1920's than they are today (do you use Hauschka skin care???), Anthroposophical medicine, a new form of movement called Eurythmy, and communities for adults with special needs. He also created a system of Contemplation, which my husband has been practicing for years. Many of you know he is also a veteran Waldorf teacher (20 years and so many great kids!)

So, his "guru" (which is not acceptable in Anthroposophy, actually) was speaking at this event (Sergei Prokovieff) so we figured out how to get there - and we did with a lot of emails written in Italian with my Italian dictionary at my side.

The setting was fabulous. Bologna is way cool! Seems intellectual, slightly leftist (there was a communist rally in the square), very good food (it is called the Breadbasket of Italy), and great architecture. It is much more relaxed than Rome and the vendors / waitstaff are English friendly. (We saw signs posted for English speaking waiters.) This is very unlike Rome. I always start with Italian. In Bologna, they sometimes respond in English and they have this lovely attitude that they get to practice their English with us. Of course, that is what I think when they show patience with my cryptic Italian.

The conference was filled with about 800 people mostly from Europe. I was nervous. This is a quirky group. All white. (Literally.) More women than men - and the average age was probably 50. Most looked and and sounded intelligent. They were largely NOT sensates in the Jungian sense of that term (Meyers-Briggs). My proof is that they couldn't get 800 people to exit the building without my being certain I was going to die in a stampede. There were 3 doors and they only had one of them open. This is the problem of a non-sensate. If I was betting, I'd say it was a room FULL of INFPs. (Introverted, intuitive, feeling, perceivers. This is my husband.) There was a lot of purple I noticed. I'm a designer. I notice color and texture. I'm sitting there in my navy suit with black shell and look out on the crowd and suddenly, purple and something like raspberry jumps out at me. Both women AND MEN are wearing this color.

I suddenly feel like I am on the outside of an inside joke. "Hmmmm," I say to Lee. "What's with all the purple? And don't act like you don't know, buster."

"What do you mean?" he says, like he's been caught.

"Lee, there are purple scarves, jeans, leather, sweaters, ties and whole entire outfits here. What's up?"

"I think it's considered a spiritual color," he said and he knew what was coming next would not be easy. He started laughing.

"Grown men should not wear purple. I'm not even sure grown women should wear purple. I feel like I'm at a Barney convention." (Remember Barney from the '80's - the loveable, annoying purple dinosaur on PBS who sings "I love you. You love me.")

He started laughing pretty hard and tried to choke out, "You really need to keep your voice down. This is blasphemy." We now both laughed = mostly uncontrollably and believe me, laughter seems to be a rare commodity at an Anthroposophical conference.

We were fed well - biodynamic food - it was AMAZING! And at only 12 euro for dinner, it was a treat. We also so enjoyed the presentation by an American physics professor at Amherst. He was such an elegant speaker, elegant human being! He knocked our socks off. His speech was on Meditation and The Self. (Part of Lee's dissertation topic.)

His name: Arthur Zajonc - with an uber impressive curriculum vitae. Physics Ph.D., Fullbright, and all round very mellow good guy. We introduced ourselves because we were finally so elated to hear a speech in English (the rest were translated and we had to wear headphones, which seemed very United Nations or something.) He was a gem - looking very smart, happy, peaceful and compassionate. He had some brilliant things to say about the new physics relative to contemplation and spirituality and it was all music to our ears.

Not many interesting photos from this trip, but a bit of a watershed event for Lee - so that made me very happy.

Still more to tell - will write after the pasta fresca with fresh Bolognese, rucula insalata with walnuts and Reggiano. Dinner in the apartment looking at the sunset.

The countryside of Tuscany - Bologna to Firenze from the train.

2011-04-02T07:37:00.003-05:00

Arrived in Florence yesterday and we both wanted to dance; we are so happy here. Will write more later. For now....hitting the streets of Firenze. Ciao!

Rome's Version of Central Park in Black and White

2011-03-29T10:21:00.008-05:00

Gaudi Pizzeria

Lee and I have been walking for the better part of four hours - to Piazza del Popolo, the Pincio which offers the most spectacular view of the city yet - from the Monument of Emmanuelle Vittorio to the entire Vatican to the Colosseum. Then, we snailed our way through the park, the first spring green leaves, the first purple blossoms on the apple, the first raisin-colored buds of the chestnut trees. It was very quiet. Sometimes we felt we had the park to ourselves. We followed the allee of magnolia to Villa Borghese, where we parked ourselves in the sun. Well, Lee did. I scouted around for a bathroom. Without any luck, we left the park to find a toillette di donne. And, running out of time, we decided to take the nearest restaurant. It looked dim from the outside - perhaps a brothel disguised as a pizzaria. Inside, it was lively with local businessmen and a couple of lovely women. The men were all in their business suits - looking a bit like "little boxes" - all alike. It was the banking district, we noticed. The meal was divine. Birra rosso and wood-fired pizza with macchiato after. Then, a brave decision to walk home. It seemed we were miles away. But our inner compass took us back to Piazza del Popolo, where we took the straight path home down Via Di Ripetta to our neck of the woods - all in about an hour.

This was now our second day of just lovely meandering and what Lee calls "present time magic" - coming upon just the right thing at the right time. These are some photos from the day. This is our favorite way to travel and get to know a city. We aren't so good at standing in crowded lines to get into a museum or on a tour.

We are falling in love with Rome. Not the gilded dripping beauty - but the quality of space and light, the sounds of heels clipping along the pavers, how you move in the city, the schedule, the grand scale and magnificent accident of it all. How could anything this good actually be planned by mortal men?

Women, maybe....:-)

Ciao.

Ask and You Shall Receive - a FIAT for America!

2011-03-29T09:39:00.002-05:00

Last week I posted a photo of an old Fiat Cinquecento (500) that reminded me of one I had in about 1976. (See right. I said I want one of these again!)

This week Fiat announced that it is coming back to America!!!

Yippee! A new Cinquecento. I'm kind of tired of our Asian car. Its just not fun like an Italian car.

Here's the article:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/27/automobiles/27ANCESTORS.html?_r=1&hp

Detour - not about Assisi. Today it's all about Rome - Without a Map

2011-03-27T10:39:00.011-05:00

At the exhibit of Karl Lagerfeld's photos at Chiostro del Bramante today. From the series "Portraits." Lee next to his alter-ego.

Photo by Karl Lagerfeld. I must have a chair like this! (or is it the room?)

I will write about Assisi later. Today...it's all about Rome. And we did it without a map. We did it with our senses and it was the greatest feeling!

Last night, we were invited to the apartment of some people we met last week - a lovely Australian couple who have lived and worked here for 8 years - both artists. She is a furniture designer and journalist and he is an animator - and creative director. They are darling and I can't tell you how excited I was to get into a Roman apartment. It was fabulous - a palazzo circa 1600 - owned by a principesse -who has restored the building beautifully and lives on one of the floors. It was a one=bedroom - but certainly larger than our apartment in NY. All white stucco walls, parquet floors from the 18th C, old tile floors from the 17th C and filled with a wonderful mix of antique casepieces, the ghost chair, modern slipcovered sofa and chair, refurbished Louis XV chairs and her uber modern lounge chairs in lacquered bent ply wood. All lit by candlelight, with casement windows the size of a door, it FELT Roman.

We had dinner at 9;30 at Osteria del Pegno just west of Piazza Navano. The feeling reminds us of Lucia's, very local, it feels as if you are going into someone's private home for dinner. Huge bouquets of fresh flowers in pitchers. We arrived home at our apartment at 1:00 a.m. The city was still throbbing with people. (We, however, were not throbbing. We'd had too much food and were dragging!)On the way home, we passed through a very lively neighborhood on Via Della Pace that reminded us of the Lower East Side at 3:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning - the leftovers of a Sat night. Wall to wall 20 - 30-somethings, mingling on the cobblestones - you couldn't tell where one bar ended and the next began. We also passed, by accident, a museum that is exhibiting a show of Karl Lagerfeld's photographs. I had to return. (Karl Lagerfeld is now 83 years old, continues to be the designer for Chanel, re-created himself as a photographer in the last 15 years or so and is a creative muse for me. He also may have the best taste of any one in the whole world!) They pointed out their favorite bar - one that serves gin and tonic!

Today, we awoke at 11:00 (we talked last night about the rhythm of life in Rome being so lovely!) read the Times online, had our coffee and went to find the museum with the Lagerfeld exhibit - Chiostro del Bramante. Well...we walked to it like we had GPS! The building was magnificent. Probably 16th Century, but I am not certain. It was that wonderful simple architecture (NOT Baroque, where suddenly everything is dripping with putti (cupids) and gilt. At least that is my impression of Baroque decoration.) This is just so purely about form and material and seems so modern to me. The steps were old gray, pitted flagstones, the railing iron no larger than 1" in diameter, the walls pure stucco - one in a deep raisin color. It made me swoon.

We were the only ones in this beautiful museum! It was such a treat. His photos reflected his work in fashion, often using his models to set up the scene. It was also clearly informed by a romantic sense of the past, of old cinema, of French film noir, of a Monte Carlo from another era.

Then, there are the architectural photos - reminiscent for me of some of Alec Soth's earlier work. Seen above of the chairs and here and then the more muscular architectural pieces like Paris below.

Photos of Paris

And then..the portraits. Wow. A wall of portraits all displayed together without identification of the subject. And, of course, that gets to be the game...who are these people? Well, one jumped right out at us! You see it above!

After the exhibit, we found the bar that served gin and tonic. I had a bira. Lee broke his streak and had a real live Bombay Sapphire gin and tonic while sitting in the sun on the cobblestones, blissing out over the day, over the fact that we are in Rome, over the people in this part of the city who exhibited some style, and over the effect of the exhibit, an experience of potentia, that which is still possible. We were "vibin' with the city. Our favorite day yet.

And all without a map!

The scene up the street - Via Della Pace - the church is Santa Maria della Pace with a Raphael inside.

This great old Porsche wiggled its way through the pedestrian traffic while we were having drinks.

As Lee said, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Apparently the gin and tonic was very good.

Tomorrow: I will write about Assisi.

2011-03-26T10:47:00.002-05:00

First I have to absorb it.

Nuns from the lineage of St. Clare (Santa Chiara) of Assisi standing on the steps of the Basilica di San Francesco.

Buon Appetito!

2011-03-25T10:34:00.004-05:00

Now that we’ve found our way around a bit (and I do mean a bit. Rome is mind-numbingly convoluted!) we are buying produce at Campo Di Fiori. I have heard from Romans – "it is good / it is not so good." But, we find it much preferable to the mostly unpleasant supermercato with grumpy employees. Besides, eating out is expensive with the exchange rate - 70 euro for most of our dinners – over $100 with the exchange. I get sick of spending that every night – especially when the food is just okay, but not great. I am still looking for anything as good as Lucia’s petite tenderloin or Broder’s pasta, meatballs and sugo – honestly! The bread is mostly horrible and dry so we don’t even eat it. We’ve had one good serving of bread the whole trip. But that is it. UNO!

So, we have taken to these lovely simple meals at the apartment – whatever looks good at the market we pick up, then stop at the salumeria for a nice salami and some divine gorgonzola dolce and it is a meal! Well, with wine, of course.

BTW – my husband is drinking wine with me! He’s a tried and true gin and tonic guy and hasn’t had one since we arrived – preferring to do as the Romans do (though this is very unusual for him – flexibility around his drink of choice and access to plain yellow mustard is generally non-negotiable.) It is great to buy our bottle of wine daily for the evening. We have not had one bad bottle of wine! It is all delicious!

So here is one of our lunches – the freshest asparagus with oil from our host’s olive groves in Tuscany, unusually fresh eggs (notice how yellow the yoke is, and a salad of crisp rucula with pear, pine nuts and parmeggiano.

Here is what we’ve learned about Italy so far (and a couple more images from meals in the apartment)

Last time we were in Italy, we decided to adopt the Italian stovetop espresso pot. We’ve never gone back. Don’t even own an electric coffee pot.

This trip? I am switching to only the best olive oils for salads. (Cooking – not to worry – I buy Broder’s, which is very good for that.) But for salads – I’m spoiled rotten now! I am ordering some oils from here and having them shipped. Let me know if you’d like some! The prices are very cheap compared to the states.

Buon appetito!

The seat of western civilization - and genius

2011-03-22T15:28:00.004-05:00

Genius: late 14c., tutelary god (classical or pagan), from L. genius "guardian deity or spirit which watches over each person from birth; spirit, incarnation, wit, talent; also "prophetic skill, originally "generative power, from root of gignere "beget, produce" (see kin.)

This gets really complicated for me - the dance between Western Civilization and Christianity. And today, after years of mostly uneducated opinion about it all - I am even more confused.

I went to the Vatican - that tiniest country in the world - the only true monarchy left in the world - with the largest private art collection in the world.

FYI - the Vatican museum used to house the popes, but now is simply the collection of art amassed over centuries. The pope now lives in a 1,000 room building next door. The museum is separate (but only steps from) St. Peter's church / basilica - or whatever that magnificent piece of architecture is! It has to be the largest church in the world? It is definitely (by law) the tallest building in Rome at 40 stories high - and the dome was designed by....who else? Michelangelo. The genius himself.

It was a spectacular tour - from the Borgia apartment left untended since the 15th Century - the original Renaissance porcelain tiles are still on the floors - some cracked away to reveal the terracotta beneath to the Cistine Chapel (the painting of "the Creation" is smaller than I expected) to the Raphael rooms to the hall of maps.

As beautiful as the museum itself is the one solitary piece that took our breath away and literally sent tears to my eyes - is the Pieta in St. Peter's. Michelangelo, at 23 years old.

A mother holding her dead son.

No one believed it could have been done by a 23-year old, so he sneaked into the Vatican one night and carved his signature on the ribbon across Mary's body. "Michelangelo Buonaroti, Florentine, made this." He never signed another piece of his art. He didn't need to.

I am in awe of genius. At 23, he had studied less than 10 years the art of sculpture and drawing. If I had studied for 100 years, I could not have done this. This is genius. Who are our geniuses now???

St. Peter's Cathedral. The Egyptian obelisk is pagan and 4,000 years old.

The dome designed by Michelangelo

Inside the cathedral - the alter.

Detail of the alter.

A marble head of Ceasar from the pagan times - this "head" inspired the David.

Marble floor inside the museum was pillaged from around Rome

Day for Domestics

2011-03-21T13:02:00.001-05:00

My biorhythms were really off today. I am sleeping on my Minnesota schedule. This is kind of embarrassing. I've been here for almost a week and I can't fall asleep until - like - 4 a.m.! (10:00 Central time.) Either that or I am really embracing the European way - staying up until 4 a.m. - sleeping late. But, Lee reminded me that the people who do that are out at clubs, partying, drinking and probably having wild sex. We are home by midnight at the latest after dinner.

So, we both just took the day off. Domestics - laundry, marketing, cleaning the apartment and writing. I felt a little bad to waste a day in Rome locked in our apartment, but it is cold and gray outside and I am feeling off my game.

Yesterday, we did take a fantastic walk to the river - crossed over Ponte di Sant'Angelo, an amazing bridge with Bernini angels on each of the ten piers. It was originally the only way to St. Peter's. The heavy traffic of pilgrims literally caused it to collapse in the middle ages, so it was rebuilt to carry more traffic and other bridges were added. The angels are mesmerizing. They make a landing spot for the seagulls, too.

Castel di Sant'Angelo and the bridge bearing its name - lined with Bernini's angels.

Spanish Steps and Via Condotti - as good as I imagined.

2011-03-20T17:05:00.007-05:00

Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck on the Spanish Steps in "Roman Holiday"

It really is as chic and romantic as you might expect. Our first walk to the Spanish Steps, then onto Via Condorti didn't disappoint. (Although no Audrey or Gregory!)It was Saturday and, just like in NY, families were out en masse - babies in strollers, fathers and daughters together, old people, young people. This really did remind me of New York. The only difference is that the streets were mostly free of cars- people were just meandering in the street - fare una passegiata - into and out of the beautiful Italian shops lining Via Condorti. It was a celebration of the best of Italian design. Valentino, Armani, Prada, Loro Piano, Alberta Ferretti, Gucci, Ferragamo. Rather sweet, really - it seemed that there was something proud about it.

In Prada, I saw the best men's ties. I want to get one for Lee before we leave -skinny - the Italian men wear them and they look great! But we will go back to shop. This was what we call a scouting day. Here are some scenes:

Last Night's Stroll after Dinner

2011-03-19T09:34:00.004-05:00

19 marzo 2011

Dear Mayors of the US,

Please build more fountains where people can gather.

Sincerely,
Lee and Alecia Stevens

At the Trevi Fountain

Developing a complex here

2011-03-18T13:44:00.012-05:00

The Metrodome shouldn't feel so bad about losing it's lid. This colosseum isn't looking so good either. It's got a few years on us, though.

We went to the ruins today. Took 2 -3 hours of leisurely walking (fare una passegiata) We didn't do any tours or use guides, just walked - mostly with our mouths dropping somewhere near our knees.

After, we had our Pizza ZaZa, per usual. (I am not a fan of trying to out-do a place that is perfect, so I will probably have it everyday that I am in Rome.)

We napped. We woke up from our nap and began to talk about the day - the history of Rome (and of the Greek influence on it - all which Lee teaches to 6th graders in a Waldorf school.) We talked about the Roman Gods, all the temples to these gods long before Christianity. I tried to get my head around the timeline. We are in an apartment in a 17th Century palazzo. It was built 1600 - 2000 years AFTER most of the things we saw today!

Last night, we had a glass of wine with our charming hosts, Alessandro and Jace, before they left this morning for Cuba and sailing in the Carribean (good life!) Alessandro's family is from Rome going way back. We met them because they used our apartment in NYC in exchange for our using their apartment now. I began to think....

When they were in NY and went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (which I personally think is the grandest of buildings in all of the US) what does a Roman think???? Do they think....oh, those Americans and all their money - plundering our art and sticking it in a new building like this.

I'm suddenly paranoid that the Met is just a suburban mall in Roseville to a Roman. (No offense to Roseville. I could have said Southdale, Ridgedale, or any of the dales - perhaps it could be called Metdale!)

I just can't get my head around a place where people LIVE in 15th - 17th buildings and that is the new architecture! The real stuff is 2000 years old! The Roman sculptures were done here! And, yet, I see them in the Met in NYC - and lucky that I do! The Greek and Roman Hall is one of my favorites.

It is kind of messing with my mind, though. I still think I am just on a movie set and the people walking around are the extras. I'm certain even the seagulls are being paid to be so good at what they do. And the moon! It's paper, right? I'm like Alice down the Rabbit Hole - spinning and spinning.