The Countess of Nassau County

Genius in the Blogosphere - Michael Buble, I WILL Have Your Baby.

2011-12-09T21:12:00.000-05:00

This time of year there are gift lists and recipes and crafts a plenty on the blogosphere that are all worthy of sharing. But this week it was the potty mouthed, utterly delightful Michael Buble, a devoted heckler, and her talented son Sam that won the Kingdoms heart.

Michael Buble Heckled By Mom - Watch MoreFunny Videos

Christmas is a Comin', So Start Planting.

2011-11-30T00:12:00.000-05:00

The Kingdom is back from a wild, wild eight days on the west coast with the Counts' family. After a late Sunday return home the Count surprised the Kingdom by staying home Monday, and he and the Countess shared a lovely day of unpacking, grocery shopping and laundry. Really, it was kinda lovely.

The west coast Thanksgiving trip is always a highlight of the Kingdoms year. But it's a bit of a shock when we return to our otherwise calm, suburban street to find it swathed with twinkling lights, snowmen, reindeer, wreaths, inflatables, and any other x-mas lawn ornaments one could imagine. It's like the universe is telling the Kingdom to get their butts in gear...Christmas is a comin'.

Appropriate teacher gifts can easily become the thorn in your holiday side. Fear not my subjects, the Countess has nailed this one and is happy to share. Surprisingly it begins with something as hideous as this........

Photo via Doug Green's flower-garden-bulbs.com

Put it in pot like this......

Photo via Cleveland.com

Write up a cute, little care instruction card (care BTW is minimal), and within a month or two said teacher will be rewarded with this.....

Photo via Buzzle.com

Word has gotten out about the Countess' annual gift of an amaryllis bulb. Last year the Counts' teacher had obviously been given the heads up by past recipients and when the Countess approached, teacher smiled, looked inside the bag, and shrieked with glee. That my subjects is the universal sign for YOUR GIFT IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN A COFFEE MUG. It's also kinda great when in the middle of winter teacher gushes over how beautifully her plant is blooming. Ours is an amaryllis loving Kingdom and we've grown them for years, so the real fun is giving one to someone who has no experience with them, they are really tickled when this ugly whatever-it-is starts blooming around February.

The Kingdoms trusted source for amaryllis bulbs is Brent and Becky's Bulbs. The Kingdom orders about 20 bulbs. For pots, we visit the Dee's 4th of July Sale every year (or dispatch a friend if the Kingdom is travelling) and get them dirt cheap. You also need a bag of potting soil and a bag of moss to cover the dirt.

My subjects, go forth and plant!

Eat This!! Minimalist Chili

2011-11-21T10:47:00.001-05:00

This is Anna's chili. When Anna takes a picture of her chili it looks like tasty chili. When the Kingdom takes a picture of their chili it looks like road kill. Therefore, photo via Door Sixteen.

In the blink of an eye, fall snuck out the back door and now holiday season is in full swing. In the Kingdom the holidays involves a lot of commitments after school, lots of indulgence of the food and drink variety, lots of projects to finish by the time 25 people descend on the Kingdom for Christmas dinner, and a close eye on the Royal Budget.

To procure a meal that is quick, easy, tasty, cheap and healthy one needs travel no further than Door Sixteen. The talented and oh so handy Anna is the mastermind behind this minimalist, Michael Jackson and Morrissey loving mecca. A few Anna facts; she likes to take pictures of herself in the bathroom, she is the first humanoid the Kingdom has ever encountered who appears to be completely clutter-free (3 years as a regular reader and not even a sign of a Monica closet), and she actually married a clutter-free male! Plus Anna makes chili. Damn good chili.

Follow the link for her killer recipe. FYI - for the sake of the wee ones the Countess cuts the amount of jalapenos and chili powder in half, and she uses a whole 14oz. can of corn kernels, drained.

The Techno Failings of a Traveling Kingdom

2011-11-19T18:15:00.001-05:00

Photo via SPO Reflections

The Royal Family is at this moment happily ensconced in the Kingdoms west coast enclave, aka., Nana and Papas house in Palm Springs. The wee ones are out riding in Papas' golf cart, Nana is napping, and the Countess posts while watching the palm trees sway in the breeze. Not too shabby.

The Kingdom intended to post as usual using the automated posting function. File that under EPIC FAIL. But now that we have a firm home base we'll be posting all week with an occasional west coast twist in the format.

Photo via United Airlines

The Countess awards the trips first gold star to United Airlines. It's been a long time since the Kingdom has traveled with United and after this flight we have to wonder why. Reasons why United may very well become the official airline of the Kingdom.

1) Guess who boards first. Not kids. Not Quintuple Platinum Executive Club Members. Current and retired US military with valid ID board first on all flights. Classy.

2) A 757 is the way to travel coast to coast. Frankly we'd rather travel with 110 people than 250 any day.

3) MUCH more room in economy class. Anyone who flies American Airlines coach will feel like they're in business class.

4) The Royal Baggage was in hand 20 after the plane landed AND we shared a baggage carousel with three other flights.

5) Despite a 6pm departure there was no meal in economy class, but there were olives, hummus, and salami to snack on. We'll live.

Photo via Three65to30

This is the first place the Count goes after landing in CA, always. The Countess once watched the Count strike up a conversation with a complete stranger at a backyard barbecue because the guy was sporting an In-N-Out Burger t-shirt. Within minutes they were chatting and smiling like reunited fraternity brothers. That's just how it is with In-N-Out Burger. Without question the best fast food burger in the US.

A cocktail awaits my subjects. 'Till Monday then.

The Royal Family - A Shiny, New Kingdom

2011-11-15T22:52:00.001-05:00

The Contessa is now at tail end of ten, and changes are coming fast and furious. Two of the most ominous are her oily skin and oily hair. A shower every other night is mandatory, but that alone cannot vanquish the oilies. Reinforcements for both the hair and the skin are needed.

For the hair.

Via Folica.com

This was initially purchased as part of our Hurricane Irene preparedness kit. It turns out to do a pretty good job banishing the oily look if it gets bad in between washings. You can get it at most drug stores for between $5.00 and $7.00.

For the skin.

The bumps started some time last spring. This was worrisome to the Kingdom, as we knew that whilst puberty is a wondrous time indeed, pre-pubescent pimples, not so much. They couldn't even be called pimples, they were really just bumps, but the Kingdom could see where things were headed and wanted to make efforts to nip the bumps in the bud.

Most skincare products made for oily skin are totally inappropriate for young skin. The Kingdom turned to the Royal Pharmacist, who recommended Stridex pads. Go. Buy. Some. They are alcohol free and have done wonders for the Contessa's complexion. The Countess has even been known to use them on occasion.

So while her room is still a mess, and she needs to practice her piano more, for now she is keeping the oilies at bay.

The Sunday Stunner - A Dunce, a Demon, and the Boy Who Lived.

2011-11-13T16:04:00.000-05:00

This weeks Sunday stunner certainly left us with a lot to choose from.

First the dunce,

Photo via theguardian.co.uk

Okay Ricky it's time to head back to the children's table, the grown ups are going to have grown up talk now.

Then the Demon(s).

Photo via TMZ.com

During today's church service our Pastor talked about people who wrap themselves in the traditions and rituals of the church but do not really carry Christ in their hearts. "Christ doesn't put much value on looking busy", he said.

Penn State immediately sprung to mind. With one phone call, Mike McQueary had the ability to get a monstrous predator off the streets, But instead Coach McQueary ran to his Dad for advice and together they hatched a plan that would ease Mike's conscience, cover his ass, and protect his job. Obviously completely ignoring the needs of the victim is an occupational hazard of the "look busy" moral code that is clearly SOP at Penn State.

But ever the optimist, let's also have a stunner of a happy sort. Knowing that the Kingdom is awash with Potter fanatics, a friend sent me a link to this video. In a real world that so often disappoints, a story that celebrates friendship, bravery, loyalty, intelligence, compassion, and imagination never fades, it only finds new ways to inspire us.

Via Youtube.com

Genius in the Blogosphere - Genius Wears a Frown

2011-11-11T16:38:00.003-05:00

Funny is hard, and writing funny is excruciatingly hard.

I mean look at this bloke, does he look happy? Happy or not, this tortured, bespectacled, contemplative, repressed, self conscious, self righteous, highly educated, painfully hip fellow is the face of Unhappy Hipsters, one of the funniest sites in the blogosphere.

We know them, we hate them, the painfully hip. The people who added the word griege to our lexicon. As pretentious as any one of the Housewives of New Jersey, these preachy, melancholy souls have been begging for smack down and Unhappy Hipsters delivers brilliantly. The premise of Unhappy Hipsters is simple. Devilishly witty writer (Molly Jane Quinn) and her equally witty graphic designer pal (Janna Talbott) combine the allegedly cool yet head-scratchingly odd interiors of that hipster bible Dwell with captions that are a deadpan send up of this often scoff worthy aesthetic.

I present one of my all time favorites as an example;

The violence that had played out on the chalkboard had so shaken him that he meekly resorted to Worcestershire sauce in place of white truffle oil in that night’s marinade.

As a rule any shot featuring hipster spawn is money.

Pink Cat sighed a smug little sigh, content in the knowledge that he’d made a sizable dent in their commitment to gender-neutral parenting.

And then there's this.

Her cloak of invisibility worked far better than she ever imagined.

Everyday readers are treated to a single photo, and an original one sentence caption. It's like the perfect comic-blog hors d'oeuvre. Not to be outdone by the deadpan hilarity of the writers, reader comments are often as funny as posts themselves.

Give yourself a good laugh and go have a look.

All photos via Unhappy Hipsters.

The Royal Family - House Rules.

2011-11-09T09:54:00.000-05:00

Via coolwallart.com

From UrbanWalls via Etsy.

Openly and artfully displaying the rules of ones Kingdom is quickly becoming the "Keep Calm and Carry On" of 2011-2012. The Countess rarely misses an opportunity to communicate the household SOP (Standard Operating Procedures) to the wee ones, so this trend is right up the Kingdoms' alley. A few weeks ago the Countess recieved an email from the kind folks at Groopdealz featuring this adorable sign made by My Treehouse Treasures.

The Countess ordered one for the Kingdom and could not have been more please with the quality of her personalized sign, especially at a price of $38.00 including shipping. It hangs right near the Royal Dinner Table/Homework Chamber and is a gentle, stylish reminder of what is important to the Kingdom. As much of the company's website is currently under construction, ordering can be done via her Etsy store. However, check Groopdealz this weekend for the sale there and save a few bucks.

BTW - the Countess is in no way affiliated with Groopdealz or My Treehouse Treasures. She is simply a happy customer who wanted to pass along a great product.

******************

So we're three days into the new format and the Countess already has skipped a day. Not to worry, no death, dismemberment, or natural disaster was involved. It was a simple matter of the Countess having a Kingdom full of children all day, then a night full of activities, and then promptly passing out whilst the planned Tuesday post languished on her computer. Alas one of the risks of night posting.

Eat This!! Baked Pasta With Pancetta and Spinach

2011-11-07T23:16:00.000-05:00

Ballerina in waiting. All those car rides yield magical moments like this.

Every house has the day. The day does not end until 10pm. The day leaves no room whatsoever for error. The day you watched other mothers endure and swore you would run your household so you never had a day like this. In the Kingdom we call this day Tuesday.

The kids are picked up a 3pm from school. Get home, have a snack, and begin homework. At 3:30 the piano teacher arrives and the Contessa begins her lesson. Count Jr. finishes his homework and reads or plays outside. Contessa finishes her lesson at about 4:15, and the Count Jr. begins his piano lesson. The Contessa heads upstairs and changes for dance. For no apparent reason it takes forever for her to change, but when she emerges her hair is put in the mandatory bun, she checks her dance bag to make sure she has everything she needs, and once that's done it's back to the homework. By about 5pm the piano teacher has taken her leave and if homework is done there is a little down time. At 5:20 we all pile into the car to take the Contessa to her 5:30 jazz class. Now things really get interesting. After returning from the dance drop off Count Jr.s homework continues if necessary and we finish making dinner. At 6:30pm the Contessa is picked up from dance, where she has already changed into the street clothes that were in her dance bag along with the ID card and music she needs for her weekly rehearsal with the Metropolitan Youth Orchestra Children's Treble Choir. With pedal to the medal we drive 7.50 miles to make the 6:45 rehearsal. At 8:45pm she emerges from rehearsal and we drive home. So what's missing from this picture? That's right, DINNER.

If the Contessa had her wish we'd stop at Wendy's or Taco Bell on the way to rehearsal and pick up dinner, but the Countess is having none of it. So the Kingdom is part of a growing number of folks who have to serve dinner to all or part of their family in the car, en route to an activity. We don't love things like wraps and burritos in the car because while they are portable there is the obvious risk factor that much of it will end up in your car rather than in your child's stomach. Something satisfying and easy to eat en route is in order, and the Contessa finds the recipe below fits the bill.

Baked Pasta with Pancetta and Spinach
From the Kitchen Sink Recipes

1 pound of ziti, rigatoni or other tubular pasta1 thick-cut slice of pancetta, diced (about one cup, many stores carry this already diced)

1 onion, diced

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 28-ounce can of crushed tomatoes

1 8-ounce container of mascarpone (if unavailable, use the equivalent of cream cheese)
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1 box/bag of fresh baby spinach (if unavailable, use one box of well drained, frozen, leaf spinach)

1 ball of fresh mozzarella (approximately 8 to 10 ounces), thinly sliced or torn into shredded-like pieces

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Grease a baking dish (a 9 x 13-inch pan, 2 quart baking dish or similarly-sized dish will work).

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add a couple big pinches of salt to the water, add the ziti and boil until the pasta is still shy of al dente . Drain the pasta, return it to the pot and set aside.

Meanwhile, heat a large, deep skillet (or sauce pan) over medium heat. Add the diced pancetta and cook until the pancetta is browned and has let off some grease, about five minutes. If the pancetta sticks to the pan, add a little olive oil. Add the diced onions and minced garlic; cook for a few minutes, stirring. Add the tomatoes to the onion/pancetta mixture and cook over low heat for about 10 minutes. Add the mascarpone and vinegar to the tomato sauce, stirring until the cheese has completely melted. Add the spinach to the pan (you may need to do this a little at a time, depending on the size of your skillet), stirring until the spinach has wilted. Salt the sauce to taste, if necessary.

Pour the tomato-spinach sauce over the reserved/cooked pasta. Stir to coat all the pasta with tomato sauce. Transfer the pasta to the prepared lasagna pan, spreading the pasta evenly in the pan. Top with the mozzarella, scattering the mozzarella evenly over the pasta.

Bake the pasta, uncovered, for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the sauce is bubbling a bit at the edges and the cheese is golden brown. Let cool in the pan for 5 minutes or so before serving.

The Sunday Stunner - A Weekend Full of Stunning

2011-11-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

Great, great weekend.

Saturday the Count and I were in New York City attending the Bat Mitzvah of the daughter of our good friends. Some dread these sorts of events, but I love them and freely admit to being a great, big softy and regularly tear up for First Communions, Confirmations, just about anything that involves multi-generations and the passing on of traditions. I am so going to be that Grandma that cries at everything.

Now onto stunning.

NYC women - Jesus I forgot what an uber stylish, smokin' hot group we are.

Agelessly Stunning - For my money the most stunning woman at the party was the maternal Grandmother of the young lady of honor. That's right, a roomful of fashionistas and Grandma smokes 'em. And hell no she didn't have fake boobs, hair extensions, or puffy lips. What she did have; close cropped silver hair, black diamond earrings, a strapless dress done in charcoal grey pinstripes with a tailored matching jacket, stunning silver and opal necklace, and red high heeled Mary Janes on her feet. I die. Utterly bananas. Trust me ladies, this is what we want to be looking like. Considering that most women treat getting ready for a big event with as much joy as a Marine preparing for a beach invasion, it's great to come across a woman whose reaction to looking amazeballs is, "I know right?!"

Stunning Defeat - New England Patriots QB Tom Brady is stunning, but he is also a dog and I suspect a head case. That's right Tom marry your super model in the church your Baby Mommy and her whole family has worshipped all their lives. Wacko. Bill Belichick is such a wacko I suspect there will soon be some form of mental illness named after him. I tend toward despising professional sports teams located north of CT and Tom and his cheater Coach Bill Belichick make honoring this tradition quite easy. So there was great joy in the Kingdom when the Giants of New York beat the Patriots of New England with just a few seconds left in the game.

Poor New England, another stunning defeat at the hands of the Giants.

Genius in the Blogosphere - Holiday Preparedness.

2011-11-04T00:48:00.000-04:00

What guest would leave a view like that?

One can probably count on one hand the number of people who live in New York City, read or write blogs, and aren't regular followers of the blogging empire known as Apartment Therapy.

Started in 2007 by Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan, it struck a chord as a lone decor blog for the under 1500 sq. ft. crowd. Maxwell provided exhaustive details on everything an apartment dweller could possibly want or need to know about small space living. For a while he was posting three and four times DAILY until he realized no one else was and figured he'd spin off a few specialized sites from Apartment Therapy, find some talented folks to run those, and manage to get a few hours of sleep.

One of those spin offs is called Re-Nest. The emphasis is on green living. This week they posted, actually re-posted, a genius four-part series entitled How to Prepare Your Home for the Holidays. It's so easy to get sidetracked during the holidays and then panic, so this is a great resource for keeping on top of things that should be done in preparation for the holidays and stay that much saner this year.

Image via All Womens Talk

When the Going Gets Tough, The Countess Gets Postin'!

2011-11-03T10:33:00.000-04:00

"Why don't you write more?"

I get asked this question from time to time in response to my random, unexplained periods of exile from the Kingdom. Trust me, I ask myself this question too. There is always a relatively lame excuse; sick, tough week, kids, work (I WRITE for a living), or simply nothing to say.

Others with followings far bigger and more loyal than mine (BTW - I LOVE all 21 of you), have thrown in the towel and never looked back. I don't, though at times I've asked myself if I should.

Then I came across this...

..and it kinda perfectly sums up where I am right now with respect to this blog and my life. I experienced some extremely tough losses last month, people that meant a lot to me, and meant a lot to my family. Going forward without these folks won't be fun, but it's something that has to be. It places me at a crossroads of sorts, where I can either shut down or reboot. Being the eternal optimist, reboot we shall.

So starting this week (I know it’s Thursday, weird, but I'm the Countess after all so the week shall starts whenever I like!) The Countess of Nassau County will launch the following format.

· Sunday - The Sunday Stunner - A favorite image or event of the last week.

· Monday - Eat this! - What the Kingdom is eating and loving.

· Tuesday - The Royal Family. - General thoughts and opinions on the events, activities, and products shaping the lives of the Kingdom.

· Wednesday - Whatever strikes my Royal fancy.

· Thursday - Decor Porn.

· Friday - Genius in the Blogosphere. A favorite post I came across this week.

That’s five, count ‘em, FIVE posts a week.

I hope you all like the changes. Love it or hate it, please comment and let me know what you think.

'Till tomorrow my subjects.

Image via Jess LC

The Countess Says, "Don't Play Dumb for Jesus!"

2011-11-02T18:27:00.001-04:00

The Tri-Captains of Team Science Sucks

My subjects, I think I’ve got some ‘splaining to do in regard to the previous post. Despite suspicions to the contrary, I was not on painkillers when I wrote it.

The post was a reaction to that increasingly frequent and maddening political trend of disavowing science as part of your selection onto Team Jesus. Anyone watching the Republican debates knows of what I speak. Anyone not watching the debates, shame on you, one of these clowns (yes, some of them are CLOWNS) could very well be our next President. Unfortunately, several of them have taken the concept of “proudly ignorant” to a whole new level.

Proud ignorance is nothing knew, a fringe of the Christian Conservative movement has been playing this game for years. Remember AIDS being a punishment from God? But this year there is a level of pride that I, as a Christian who racked up a hefty number of science credits in college, finds truly embarrassing. I run the Sunday School at our church. My kids take Communion every Sunday. The Count is on the Board of our Church. The Contessa was Mary in the Christmas pageant for Pete's sake!! So I feel confident in stating the following DON'T PLAY DUMB FOR JESUS.

Michele Bachmann, Rick Santorum PLEASE stop pretending that your proud ignorance is somehow of service to our Lord and Savior. Herman Cain, you can’t “catch” cancer. And Mitt Romney your stance on birth control simply defies logic!!!

Ignorance helps no one, it simply welcomes greater, and more dangerous levels of ignorance down the road.

The Sunday Stunner - Science Makes Nature More Beautiful.

2011-10-09T20:54:00.000-04:00

Science.
So lovely.
So true.
So imaginative.
So curious.
So enthralling.
So beguiling.
So mysterious.
So interesting.
So brave.

The film above is part of the Feynman Series, created by Nobel Prize Winner Richard Feynman. The series is a companion project of The Sagan Series working in the hopes of promoting scientific education and scientific literacy in the general population. He's a genius, and worth listening to.

The Kingdom Tips Their Hats to Steve Jobs.

2011-10-06T21:47:00.000-04:00

(image - Newsweek via Abstract-thoughts.com)

My office was filled with PCs, my husbands office is filled with PCs, so it won’t shock you all when I tell you that our home computer is …. a PC. Yet Steve Jobs still managed to transform my life in a way I could never have imagined, and for which I am forever grateful.

I was going to be an opera singer. I dedicated my young life to that single goal. But when I was 19 I scarred my vocal chords and any chance of realizing that dream was lost. I didn’t cry, I didn’t have a nervous breakdown. I simply left for college to study nursing, not music as I’d planned, and completely severed any and all connections I’d had to all that wonderful music I’d spent much of my life singing.

Years later my husband got me an iPod, the white 4GB. He thought it would be great for my commute, and how right he was. There sitting on iTunes was all the amazing music I’d so loved singing but had avoided for almost 20 years. So thank you Mr. Jobs, thank you for reuniting me with a long lost and much loved part of myself, one song at a time.

Eat This!! Sauce Fit for a Scotch-Irish, German, Swedish Kingdom

2011-10-05T08:11:00.000-04:00

This is what a Lutheran envisions when told to "make sauce".

(image: sordo.com)

"I don't know how to make sauce!"

This was the only defense the Countess could offer when confronted by her friend Angela, who regarded the jar of Newman's Own on the Countess' counter with a look of exasperation and pity. She was having none of it.

"Whadda ya mean? Sauce is easy."

"I'M NOT ITALIAN!!"

It's true, the Royal Family has not a speck of Italian blood. The Count is a Swede through and through. The Countess is a heady mixture of Scotch-Irish, English, and German. They are why God gave us sunscreen.

The very idea of making ones own sauce conjured images of dark eyed Italian women tending over a secret concoctions passed down through generations, blessed by Father Michael, and prepared under the watchful eye of a housecoat clad, heavily accented Grandma.

"How do you make sauce?" The Countess asked.

"You know, couple of cloves of garlic, some tomatoes.....it's nothing....this is just stupid", Angela said as she waved her arms in the general direction of the offending sauce. And then she shrugged.

With little to go on, the hunt began for the Royal Sauce. There were contenders aplenty, but these stood out.

Ina Garten - tomato, onion, garlic, and a healthy bit of red wine.

Giada De Laurentis - Celery, carrots, onions, garlic, bay leaves.

Mark Bittman - Olive oil, onions, parsley or basil.

Marcella Hazan - Butter, Onion.

The Kingdom sampled all, and all are worth trying. But ultimately it was Marcella Hazan's bright, intense, insanely easy, three ingredient sauce that won the hearts of the Kingdom and became the Royal Sauce.

Three ingredients. An honest 2-5 minutes of prep with 45 minutes of cooking.

While it seems ridiculous to actually write this out as a recipe Ms. Hazan's bit of culinary genius has surely earned the proper treatment.

Tomato Sauce with Butter and Onions
Adapted from Marcela Hazan’s Essentials of Italian Cooking

1 28-ounce can of whole peeled tomatoes, or crushed tomatoes. (San Marzano, if you can find them)
5 tablespoons of unsalted butter
1 medium-sized yellow onion, peeled and halved
Salt to taste

Put the tomatoes, onion and butter in a heavy saucepan (3 quart size is ideal) on medium heat. Bring the sauce to a simmer then lower the heat to keep the sauce at a slow, steady simmer for about 45 minutes, or until droplets of fat float free of the tomatoes. Stir occasionally, crushing the tomatoes against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Remove from heat, discard the onion, add salt to taste.

Jarred Sauce is Just Stupid.

2011-10-02T23:32:00.000-04:00

Despite living in Nassau County for nearly a decade, there is a lot about the Countess that is decidedly un-Nassau County. These include the following;

She's a Lutheran.
The only person in her house who owns a pair of Uggs is the Count, and those are slippers.
She's never had French tips.
No one in her house wears a chain made of gold, same goes with ankle bracelets.
She does not, and will never, consider "yous" a pronoun.

But today the Countess tapped into her inner-South Shore more than she ever imagined possible. Today while braving the traffic and the throngs to go pumpkin picking out east, she purchased, wait for it, a bushel of tomatoes.

Why? What could one possibly do with four to five dozen tomatoes?

Like her South Shore Sisters have done for generations, she will blanch them. She will peel them. She will freeze them with a single leaf of basil. And then my ladies she will make sauce upon sauce with them the likes of which the Gods will do battle over.

Because here in the South Shore, as one of Countess' posse put it, "jarred sauce is just stupid".

An Open Letter to Christina Hendricks

2011-09-16T18:39:00.000-04:00

Dear Christina,

On behalf of rubenesque women around the globe, we congratulate you on mastering the I-just-stumbled-out-of-Charlie-Sheen's-hotel-suite look. Now please move on.

Sincerely,

The Countess

My 9/11 Story

2011-09-11T15:06:00.000-04:00

This is a re-post from September 11, 2009.

On September 11th 2001 my husband and I were living in NYC. Our daughter was just six months old. At the request of some college friends, I put my experiences on and around Sept. 11th on paper to share with others who lived far away. Below is what I wrote a week or so following September 11th. Reading this evokes such strong memories and emotions for me. I ask that if you read this you give a moment of silence to Stephen Frazer, a guy I never met but who for me still embodies the random, mindless, pointless loss that was September 11th.

If you've seen every bit of TV footage, or read 'till you cried, you'll have to indulge one more New Yorker reflecting on the Tuesday, Sept. 11th attack on the WorldTrade Center.

My daughter and I were headed to our pediatrician Tuesday morning when sirens rang out from everywhere. A decade in Manhattan has reduced sirens to background noise, like music in a restaurant. But this was an explosion of noise that made me get up, go to my window, look down on the streets and the frenzy of emergency vehicles heading south and wonder, "what the hell just happened?"

I didn't turn on the TV until my best friend called. I stared at the screen in disbelief, both Towers already burning. The voice on the phone works just four blocks from the World TradeCenter. She was a little frantic, but thankfully she was in her apartment, worried about her colleagues.

When my friend raised the possibility of collapse I said, "the Towers won't collapse". I said it with absolute certainty, never imagining that 30 minutes later I'd be proven so wrong. When the first tower collapsed, I saw it on TV via an aerial shot from due south. The Channel 2 anchors and I thought it was another huge explosion. Then I saw something through the smoke that I'll never ever forget, the sunlight reflecting off the slanted roof of the Citicorp building on 50th Street. Next I made out the silhouette of the Chrysler Building and realized that the Tower, which in a sane world would be blocking that view, was no longer there.

"It's gone, it's gone, it's gone".That's all the came out of the television.

My husband arrived home just after the first Tower collapsed. He had his first follow-up visit with his doctor since knee surgerywork and was headed back to work when thousands of people started pouring out of the subways and buses. A stranger told him what happened. Grasping for something normal and planned, we headed to our pediatricians' office next door. On the corner of Second Avenue people were already gathering to look south.

"You can't see it?",I asked.

"Oh yes you can", my husband answered.

Sure enough, an enormous cloud of smoke loomed downtown and was winding its way up Second Avenue.I turned and went to the doctors.The second Tower collapsed while daughter got her shots.Within an hour fighter planes were circling the city.I was never more aware of living between the Empire StateBuilding and the United Nations.The former now once again reigning as the tallest building in NYC.

Meanwhile, at my office on 4th Street and Broadway, co-workers had grabbed binoculars and ran to the roof garden.From a birds' eye view enhanced with state-of-the-art optics, they witnessed a scene of helplessness and horror that I can't even begin to imagine.Two nearly fainted after looking through their lens for only a few moments.Another watched the first tower collapse and wondered if her father made it out, another wondered if her father, brother, and boyfriend did the same. They did.

Now that the frenzy has ended, New York City is just a city in mourning.There will be no miracle rescues on the six-o'clock news.We've all hunkered down for a fall filled with memorials and grim discoveries.All the tip toeing and solemnity has brought a silence to this city so eerie and unnatural I almost yearn for a few more honking horns.Instead I get sirens coming from Ground Zero.The typical New Yorker prides his/herself on being tough, insular and self-sufficient, characteristics that make September 11^th and its aftermath of that much harder to bear.Perhaps that's what God intended.Perhaps our sudden, enormous need for help from any and all who offer make us seem a little more human and a little less "New Yorker" than before.

In the end it's all about a guy named Stephen Frazer and the thousands of others like him. He's young, handsome, in his thirties.Stephen has a wife named Suzan with a 'z' and a child. He worked at AON in World TradeCenter. I was introduced to Stephen via many flyers posted in my neighborhood. Scarcely a day goes by that I don't run into Stephen, at the bus stop, pasted to a phone booth or on the hospital wall alongside hundreds of others flyers. Suzan with a 'z' leaves her number and begs you to call if you have any information on her beloved Stephen. The flyer has two color pictures on it; in one Stephan is sitting on a couch in a T-shirt and wire rims, in the other he's feeding his baby. He hasn't bothered to change out of his office clothes, something my husband often forgets too. Looking straight at the camera and wearing no glasses, he's holding a baby spoon and smiling the purest, happiest, goofiest new-dad smile you'll ever see. The baby covered with strained carrots (or perhaps sweet potato) will grow up without a single memory of him, and it will take Suzan a lifetime to explain to that baby just how wonderful his/her father was. One day I'm going to take one of his flyers down and put it in my purse, before someone else takes him down and he's lost again.

Years ago I worked a few weeks at the World TradeCenter. I don't know exactly which floor I worked on, but I know I was high enough up that I could lean my head against the glass and look down at the helicopters flying beneath me. I loved that.

My Date with Irene

2011-08-28T08:40:00.000-04:00

Without a thought of Irene, the Kingdom high tailed it out of Nassau County on Wednesday morning for a few days of R and R in the Adirondacks with my parents. The King and Queen are both in their 80's, so we were grateful to be up here to help them prepare for the storm (moving lots of outdoor furniture, boats, and docks was the order of the day), and to help them out if Irene does any damage. The pounding rain and wind has arrived, and our usually calm lake is a sea of white caps. Boats are still on their moorings, for now.

As I've written before, I have no cell service up here, and Internet is temperamental at best. At 8:39am the eye of storm has yet to arrive in Nassau County, and Al Rocher just reported that the ocean met the bay in Long Beach, NY. That's about two miles from my beloved cabana in Atlantic Beach.

Be careful my subjects, I'll be in touch soon.

Beware the Summer Slump.

2011-08-18T12:12:00.000-04:00

The Kingdom - Pre-Slump

Apologies for the absence. Despite the best efforts of many of her subjects, the Kingdom was recently stricken by a severe Summer Slump.

Summer Slump is a common ailment among families with young children.  Due to prolonged exposure to children from sun up to sun down mothers at greatest risk are home makers, mothers who work part time, or moms who work out of the home.

Summer Slump in Mom's comes on suddenly, often induced by relentless repetition of short phrases such as, "go outside", "clean your room", "no more TV", "breakfast was done three hours ago", "read a book", "did you practice your piano?", "brush your hair", "you wore that yesterday", "set the table", and "No, you can't have $20.00". This can lead to incoherent yelling, flailing of arms, and banging ones head against the wall.

Children are at greatest risk of Slump during late summer, when most organized camps have ceased. The sudden lack of structure and absence of round the clock activity leads not to the sense of free wheeling abandon Mom would expect, rather a trance like state complete with rambling and drooling, and frequent announcements of "I'm bored".

The risk for Summer Slump was particularly high in the Kingdom this summer due to a drop off in camp participation.  While both children attended a summer recreation program from 9-12 every week day, there has been little else in the way of camps. The Contessa elected to skip dance camp this year, and at $600 for six days, forcing an unwilling participant seemed silly. The Count Jr. meanwhile was excited for a week-long camp on robotics, which was unceremoniously cancelled a few days prior to starting. Which such short notice, no replacement could be found. As mentioned here, the Count Jr. is allergic to sports (unless playing them on the Wii), so the baseball camps, football camps, and lacrosse camps frequented by many of his buddies were rejected.

Don't get out your violins just yet. They've had it pretty good; amusement parks, glow sticks, mini golf, the pool, fireworks, visits with the cousins, the Adirondacks, the beach, hockey games, the Smurfs, baseball games, visits with Nana, Harry Potter, Cape Cod, the library, visits with Grandma and Grandpa, fishing, manhunt, boat rides, and staring at stars - it's been a fun summer.

But the summer recreation program ended last week, and the little darlings have become Americas youngest shut-ins. Seriously, given their druthers they would never leave the house.  Never. Leave. The. House. Unless the Countess conjures up some sort of amazing outdoor activity, they would sit inside all day long.

After the past weekends freakish rains and flooding the Slump took hold and transformed the Kingdom into inert zombies.  Finally the Countess banished the children from the house and the doors were locked, for three hours. This was no easy feat. Upon re-entry, the Royal Family had a major pow wow about how the rest of Summer was going to go down, and together the Kingdom hatched a bold plan.

For the remainder of summer vacation (just under three weeks), there will be no TV and no computer...and for the Countess, no cussing. Yes my subject, the Countess has a potty mouth. Not the "wassup my bitches!!!!" kind of cussing, more like when something large and heavy lands on her foot, or when the Countess has to listen to Michele Bachmann for more than 30 seconds. Most of the cussing takes place in the car, where frankly it borders on vehicular Tourette's Syndrome.

So the deal is such, every cuss earns 15 minutes of computer of TV for the little people, otherwise it's off limits unless special exceptions are made such as a trip to the movies or a video chat with Nana.

We know it's a bold move, but alas my subjects these are desperate times.

Pray for us.

No Wireless in Paradise.

2011-08-05T09:40:00.001-04:00

Behold the horror that unfolds whenever I attempted a layout that is even remotely creative.

In the words of Katy Perry, "that was such an epic fail".

The kids and I just returned from a trip to my parents home on the shores of beautiful Lake Sacandaga. Meanwhile husband was in Oak Harbor, WA attending his 30th HS reunion. He had our camera, I had a cell phone with a camera and as you can see I've mastered the grainy phone pic effect.

There is no cell service where my parents live, and Internet and is moody to say the least. So I found myself without wireless, and it was pretty darn great.

Highlights included;

*Eating breakfast, reading a book, doing just about everything overlooking the lake
*Outdoor showers
*Teaching the kids how to find clay in the lake and seeing what they make with it
*Seeing my kids do all the things I did up there as a kid, and enjoying it just as much
*Watching my Dad give his grandson his first golf cart ride at the lake
*Discovering my daughter has a knack for frog hunting
*Watching the news with my parents, and getting a kick out of how fired up they still get about politics.
*Kreme Freeze (the world best hot fudge)
*Dad's stellar bar tending skills
*Cocktail cruise on the lake, complete with my son driving the boat
*The camp ritual of washing dishes
*Trees lining the opposite shore, climbing virtually unspoiled to the peaks of the mountains

Now I've got to scoot off to my kids camp talent show. Talk to y'all next week.

...Whoops, almost forgot the Friday-five-things-I'm-happy-about-at-this-moment.

*My awesome parents.

*That I've actually already purchased most of my kids back to school supplies, thanks to the insanely clean Walmart in Amsterdam, NY.

*That Derek Jeter plays for my team.

*That my frig is full.

*Saturday at the beer garden.

Alan Rickman You Rock My World.

2011-07-27T19:54:00.001-04:00

Alan Rickman is currently the it man of the moment for his brillant turn as Professor Severus Snape, the uber anti-hero of the Harry Potter series. He's brillant in the movie and I'm thrilled to see Snape emerge as such a fan favorite.

Last week I posted a clip from a brief interview Mr. Rickman gave at NY premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. An old and dear friend commented and left a link. I followed the link and what I discovered there was more than worthy of a post of its own.

Ladies, there is sexy, and there is sexy. Feast your ears on this.

http://hennnypotter.tumblr.com/post/7808996289

Alan Rickman reads Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Saved By a Peach and Strawberry Crumble.

2011-07-26T13:41:00.000-04:00

Writing is hard. Coming up with fresh ideas, weaving random tidbits to into a cohesive whole, while injecting a healthy dose meaningful insight and wit. Hard.

When I was in high school I had three dreams, singing, acting, and writing. Scarred vocal chords killed my voice, convincing myself that acting was for beauty queens killed off acting, but the writing and I endured. It doesn't matter what I'm writing about; my kids, last nights dinner, tropical deforestation, or the poor girl in FL who didn't wear underwear on picture day, I love it all.

I openly admit that my biggest shortcoming as a writer is that I often bite off more than I can chew. A Big Idea pops into my head and the smashing peach and strawberry crumble I made over the weekend and should most definitely be blogging about waits nervously as I chase The Big Idea. For a day and half I have wrestled with The Big Idea, but we remain at stalemate. So today consistency wins and for now I will walk away from The Big Idea because frankly that Peach Strawberry Crumble was too damn good not to share.

Peach and Strawberry Crumble

(No, I don't have a picture, so just imagine something really flippin' yummy.)

This recipe was inspired by the Peach and Raspberry Crumble created by that Doyenne of all things yummy, Joy the Baker.

This recipe fills a 9x13 inch baking pan.

10-12 medium ripe peaches, sliced with skin on
1 lb. fresh strawberries, hulled
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup of brown sugar
1 1/2 cups of old fashioned oats
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Generous pinch of salt
1 cup of unsalted butter, chilled and cut into small cubes

1 gallon of vanilla ice cream

Preheat the over to 350 degrees F and place the rack in the center of the oven.

Place sliced peaches and strawberries in the 9×13-inch baking dish and set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, oats, spices, and salt. Add the butter and toss the mixture together with your hands. Break the butter up into the flour mixture until the butter is the size of small pebbles and oat flakes. This should take 4-5 minutes.

Toss about 2 cups of the crumble topping into the peach and strawberry mixture. Mix lightly with your hands. Spread fruit evenly in the pan and top with the remaining crumble mixture. Bake until fruit is juicy and bubbling, and the top of the crumble is slightly browned and crisp, about 40-45 minutes.

Remove from the oven, let cool slightly, and serve with vanilla ice cream (don't even think about omitting the ice cream). Note that you can serve this immediately or make ahead and reheat in the microwave.

Eat This!! Heatwave Cooking, Part 1

2011-07-22T13:02:00.001-04:00

It's about a billion degrees outside, and you've got to fix dinner. Your wee ones will not warm to the idea of sandwiches for dinner or a main course salad, and in this weather grilling seems like the culinary equivalent of waterboarding. So what does one cook for dinner in 100 degree heat?

You will need one of these.

and one of these...

to whip up a batch of these...

Slow-Cooked Hoisin Pork Wraps with Peanut Slaw

From the Freaking Geniuses at The Kitchn

You will need;

1 batch of Slow-Cooked Hoisin Pork (recipe below)

1 batch of Peanut Slaw (recipe below)

10-12 tortillas

Note that this will serve at least 8 hungry people.

Slow Cooked Hoisin Pork

6 pounds pork butt, trimmed of thick fat

Salt and pepper
6 cloves garlic, smashed
1 large piece fresh ginger, about five inches long
1 bottle hoisin sauce (12-15 ounces)*

Rub the trimmed pork shoulder all over with salt and fresh cracked black pepper. Put in the slow cooker (cut in pieces first, if necessary). Add the smashed garlic cloves, tucking them around the pork. Peel and grate the ginger and put it in too. Pour the hoisin sauce over everything. Cover and cook on low for about 10 hours or overnight.

When meat is cooked use two large forks to shred the meat and mix it with the sauce. Also note, that washing dishes in the heat sucks almost as much as cooking in it so this little bugger uses ONE pot from start to finish.

Peanut Slaw

1 medium head green cabbage, outer leaves removed
1 1/2 cups roasted, unsalted peanuts
1 bunch green onions
1 cup chopped cilantro
Salt and pepper

Dressing:
1/2 cup light oil, like canola
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar (or more, to taste)
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon soy sauce (or more, to taste)

Shred the cabbage very finely. Take care here and cut to create fine threads. Trust me, it really makes a difference. Then chop the threads into bite-size lengths. Toss with the peanuts in a large bowl. Chop the scallions, including the green and white parts. Toss the scallions and chopped cilantro with the cabbage, seasoning very lightly with salt and pepper.

Whisk the dressing until emulsified, then taste and adjust to your own preferences of sweetness and saltiness.

Toss with the cabbage. Garnish with a few more peanuts and serve.

Now throw a little meat and a little slaw on your tortilla and wrap away.

You're Welcome.

I Love You Snape....or is it Colonel Brandon?

2011-07-20T13:26:00.001-04:00

So last night the Kingdom donned their 3D glasses and had their collective worlds rocked by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. As posted here, the characters, books, and films of the Potter franchise hold a place in the Kingdom's hearts like no other. Expectations were high...and they were met.

As if Alan Rickman's brilliant turn as Severus Snape wasn't enough reason to love him, yesterday I caught this little interview. Leave it to the mature adult to deliver such an earnest and on point message about what it really takes to succeed in entertainment, or anything else for that matter...jump to the 1 min. 55 sec. mark, then show to your kids every time they want to blow off homework, piano practice, chores, etc.

P.S. - Rickman played the totally swoon-worthy Colonel Brandon in the 1995 film, Sense and Sensibility. Watch it and see how many Harry Potter cast members appear with him in this film as well.

All I Ever Needed to Know About Motherhood I Learned at Hogwarts.

2011-07-16T11:05:00.000-04:00

With the final installment of the Harry Potter film series opening this weekend I felt it only fitting to devote a post to this literary, cinematic, and pop culture phenomena. My kids grew up with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and in a lot of ways, so did the Countess.

On my daughters second birthday my son entered our lives. The ensuing years were a blur of house hunting, relocating, working, not working, starting a business, and getting a home in order. For the first time the Count and I were in separate camps, I as Mom and homemaker on Long Island, he as Dad and provider. I was completely out of my comfort zone and often I longed to return to the career I loved.  I could generate millions in revenue but I couldn't keep the bathroom tidy, pick out a window treatment, or get my six year-old daughter to crack a smile. The doubt creeped in.

One of the few places I found sure footing was in stories and story telling.  Much of my anxieties about the enormous responsibility of raising two children temporarily vanished in the voices and rhythms of the countless stories the three of us read together. Every night as I cleaned up dinner I'd hear them splashing around in the tub, then Dad's voice ordering them to dry off and brush their teeth. I'd wrap up whatever I was doing, knowing that two little voices chanting, "stories, stories, stories" was moments away.  Each night I would open a new book and read, eliciting gasps, laughter, and the magical questions that children always ask, and to which I magically seemed to have the answers.

In August of 2009 the we began reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone, and shortly after the Kingdom was rocked by the discovery of a tumor in my son's spinal column. I suddenly found myself reading aloud in hospital beds, or while seated next to an MRI machine. As terrifying as real life had become, we could all still take refuge in the simple pleasure of story time and melt into the magical world of Ms. Rowlings creation.  One by one, we read through every book in the series. For long car rides we discovered the brilliantly done Harry Potter audiobook series, magnificently read by Jim Dale. Trips to Cape Cod or the annual ski trip were now memorable not just for what we did when we got there, but which book we listened to en route.

The joy that this series brought to my children and I impacted my parenting tremendously.  In Ms. Rowling's boundless imagination I discovered something that I could give my kids that was cooler than anything I could buy them in a store - myself.  I sing, dance, tell jokes, bake cookies, play board games, whip up favorite meals, play catch, bandage wounds and help with homework. I don't need batteries, a warranty, and I rarely need an upgrade. Even if a piece of me is broken, I still work. I run on hugs and smiles and can be recharged with a "please", "thank you" or "I love you".

I'm not a perfect Mom by any means, but I feel like I'm on the right track. A sure sign of this can be found in my daughters plans for opening night of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. She didn't even bother asking if we would attend since Dad and Son are away and it was a given that we would all go together.  She didn't ask to go to the mall, out to dinner, or beg to invite four girlfriends to sleep over.

"Mom can we just hang out and play board games?"

Her wish was granted, no magic wands necessary.

Genius in the Blogosphere - How to Travel Like a Royal.

2011-07-11T08:01:00.000-04:00

Waiting for the July 4th Fireworks to start, I shot this with my cell phone at Menauhant Rd, Falmouth, MA.

The Kingdom just returned from a wonderful vacation on Cape Cod, MA.
As stated previously, travel in the Kingdom is no fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants operation. We are a traveling people, by car and by plane, and there are a host of details to address before the journey is underway.

Apartment Therapy recently posted a pre-departure list that is pretty darn close to perfect. Tailor as needed (this list has a decidedly citified, apartment dweller perspective) and this list will take most of the nitty, gritty details out of your crowded brain so you can focus on having a great trip with family/friends/yourself. Hopefully once there you'll experience a sunset as lovely as the one above.

7-10 DAYS BEFORE YOUR DEPARTURE:

• Launder favorite clothing and/or take it to the dry cleaner.
• Put in stop mail and newspaper delivery requests.
• Plan meals that will finish up the food in your refrigerator.
• Confirm pet sitting plans.
• Check your data and calling and roaming plans for your cell phone service and make sure you understand any potential additional charges and add international discount calling and message plans as needed.

THE WEEKEND BEFORE:

• Get out the suitcases.• Tell a trusted neighbor that you'll be away, when you'll be back and how you can be reached in case of emergency.• Make two copies of your passport/ID. One to keep separately when traveling and one to give to a friend - this info makes it easier to have it replaced at a consulate if necessary.• Return any books and videos to the library.• Make sure the fridge/freezer is stocked with basics that will not spoil so immediate shopping is not required when you return• Prepay bills that will come due while you are away.

THE DAY BEFORE:

• Copy all of your travel itinerary/hotel/car/sightseeing information and links into one email, with a clear subject line and send it to yourself - then, when traveling, you only need to search for one email on your phone/laptop to see all the pertinent info.
• Put timers on lights/radio.
• Empty the kitchen compost container.
• Move any wet laundry from the washer to the dryer.
• Move your car to the non-street sweeping side of the street or leave a key with a neighbor if that isn't possible.
• Pass along any food that might go bad while you are away.

THE MORNING OF YOUR TRIP:

• Water plants
• Close and lock windows, lower shades.
• Unplug the tv, computer and any kitchen electronics that won't be in use while you are away.
• Adjust the temperature control to the most efficient level.
• Remove all bedding to allow mattress to air out while you are away.
• Take out the trash.
• Turn OFF your alarm clock - your neighbors will thank you!

Here's to happy, restorative travels.

The Best Bookstore in Cape Cod - Perhaps the World

2011-07-05T19:04:00.000-04:00

Day four on the Cape. This place can really grow on a person. Tonight I will visit the BEST children's bookstore on the Cape, perhaps in the universe, the Eight Cousins bookstore. Fantastic selection, great staff, and steps away from the Black Dog, and the best ice cream in Falmouth at Ben and Bill's.

Tomorrow, the beach.

Hittin' the Road. Yes, Men are TOTALLY Different.

2011-07-01T18:48:00.000-04:00

Bright and early tomorrow morning the Kingdom hits the road on our first vacation of summer. We are headed off to Cape Cod for a few days of fun and relaxation with our extended family.

While I'm away I'm going to read this.......

I am also going to force my husband to relax a little because he flippin' needs it.

I freely admit that I love vacationing but HATE packing. Packing up my family is an all day affair. In part because my kids do some of their own packing which extends the process exponentially, and because my husband waits 'till the last possible second to pack because he uses the time I've designated for packing to get his haircut, change the oil in the car, paint the back steps, etc. This leads to a pre-vacation dust up that happens with such predictability that it has been dubbed, "the pre-vacation throw down".

Today my husband worked for a 1/2 day. He's been working long hours lately and decided to start his vacation a half day early. As I fully expected (see above) he maddeningly used the other half a day to purchase sneakers, which he has needed for weeks, get a haircut, and take the car to the car wash, which I have asked him to clean for weeks.

He's a hard worker, I know this, as does every boss he's ever had. But I must ask the question, what do men do during their lunch hours? When I worked full time I did every imaginable errand during my lunch hour, and NYC (where I worked and my husband still does) is an errand runners paradise. Gift shop, toy store, post office, tailor, nail salon, hardware store, library, and drug store, all within walking distance. I must stifle the urge to scream when he looks at me like I'm crazy for even suggesting that he/we might more time for fun stuff on the weekend if he tackles some of his errands during the week. It must be a girl thing.

Anyone with suggestions for stuff to see/visit/eat on Cape Cod, give a holla!

Royal Random Thoughts.

2011-06-29T10:13:00.000-04:00

As posted earlier, school got out on Friday. We are now three days into summer vacation and in that short period of time the Countess has some random thoughts to share....

1) The official language of summer appears to have just four phrases; "Mom can I have five dollars?", "When can I get my ears pierced?", "Can I get a Wii game?", and of course "When can I have a phone?"

2) While my girlfriend writes here about having $$ in her pocket because her kids are away at camp, the Royal Family will likely be auctioning items on Ebay by August to keep up with demand (see above).

3) Due to the car air conditioning being broken, the Countess has discovered that the music she listens to in the car with the windows up is too embarrassing to have on with the windows down, where others can hear it. My apologies to Kesha and Usher.

4) If you need comic relief, put three or more boys in the back seat and crack up AC/DC Back in Black. Then pray for a few red lights so you can safely watch the head bangin', air guitarin' mayhem that will surely ensue.

5) TopShop purports to be a fashionable online clothing source, while in fact it is a reliable source of laugh out loud hideousness. Behold.

Really? If there is an actual human being wearing this stuff the Countess commands her to move nearby and procreate so she and the other Moms can gaze upon her at morning drop-off, with children Walnut and Kiwi in tow, sporting one of these stunning gypsy/Edith Beale/me-love-you-long-time looks.

Schools Out!!!!!

2011-06-24T07:40:00.000-04:00

Today is the last day of school....and thanks to the infinite wisdom of our school district the last day of school is 30 min. long. Everyone complains about this. What's strange is that this isn't an oddity caused by excessive snow days this year, it's always been this way. So basically you drop off your kids with their gifts for the teachers, which this year is this....

Then you stand around for 30 minutes, chat with the ladies, pick up your kids, and go home.

I think the PTA needs to send some sort of notice in the backpacks with last day instructions for parents. Every year there is one amped up mom who is standing there with the teacher having a real conversation about summer enrichment goals for their budding genius; which books to read, which math work books to buy, innovative puppet theater, etc., etc. Better yet is the Dad who appears out of nowhere and stands there talking with the teacher like they have a clue what's been going on the last 10 months. Let's not over think this people.

With smiling face, approach teacher.
Thank them for a great year.
Optional - Snap a quick photo of child and teacher.
Wish them a happy summer.
Walk away.

If you despised your kids teacher (yes, it happens) simply omit steps 2 and 3. If you despised the teacher but your child loved them, suck it up and follow all five steps.

Two new Friday rules, I'm reserving the right to give the Countess Friday's off and writing in the first person, and I'm sharing five good things going on in the (my) universe right now.....

Finally got our tax return back.
Discovered that a shattered car window can be fixed in only three hours.
Spent a lot of time writing this week (not for y'all, for work).
Made a client happy.
Son got into the gifted program at school and will start next year. I got a kick out of how excited he was at being selected.

Happy Weekend!!

A Special Weekend Gift to the Kingdom.

2011-06-18T09:42:00.000-04:00

Please, please, please in the name of all that is holy watch this.....

The Daily Show - Jon Stewart Press Conference
Tags: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

then watch this....

The Daily Show - Jon Stewart Press Conference - John Oliver Takes Over
Tags: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Then consider your obligation to watch, listen to, or read about Anthony's Weiner in your lifetime met in full.

Thursday Decor Porn - Read to Me.

2011-06-16T07:33:00.000-04:00

Two things can be said about the Kingdom, they beach, and they read. At any moment someone in the Royal Family has their nose buried in a book. So one can imagine the Countess's heartbeat quickening when she opened the June issue of House Beautiful and laid eyes on this.......

Photo via The Inspired Room

A slideshow of the whole home, oddly without this brilliant reading nook, can be viewed online on the House Beautiful website.

Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it - Beach Lessons Part 1

2011-06-14T07:43:00.000-04:00

Between in July and August, the Kingdom spends anywhere from four to six days a week at the beach, courtesy of this little slice of paradise. The annual stock up on beach essentials; flip flops, sun hats, sunglasses, bathing suits, and cover-ups is a summer tradition in the Kingdom. This season new flip flops, and cover-ups are in order. Let us discuss.

Flip Flops - People let's not make this more difficult or costly than it needs to be. Just go here.

$5.00 - every imaginable color. Heck go wild and spend $7.50 on a pair with rhinestones.

Cover-ups - Significantly more complicated than flip flops, and there are some baffling options abounding this season.

First let's define cover-up. The function of a beach cover-up is to protect one from the sun and provide enough coverage of the Royal Assets that if the Countess were to run into her neighbor/Pastor/son's teacher/mailman/colleague she would not feel compelled to bury herself in the sand. Hence a piece of chiffon color coordinated to your suit which you then tie around your tush is not a cover-up, it's a piece of chiffon that matches your suit which you tie around your tush.

It bears mentioning once again that the Countess is not pretending she's in St. Barts with the beautiful people, nor is she at OBI (Nassau County natives will now nod knowing) to pick up boys with last names that end in vowels, have sick pecs and tattoos. She does not EVER want to be referred to as a cougar. She is at the beach with her children.

This is adorable. Cute pattern, appropriately modest, $198.00. No.

This Tina Turk number is Bananas. It's also $137.00 and dry clean only. Bananas, and this time not in a good way.

Anthropologie threw their hat into ring with a few winners that confirm the Kingdom's suspicion that their designers consume large quantities of weed to get in the proper mindset to design all that boho sh*t.

Just wrong. This is the cover-up Lady Gaga would select if she went on a Kentucky Fried Chicken binge and tipped the scales at 225.

Mystified. It's like a Project Runway challenge using toilet paper.

Now head back to the place you got the cheap flip flops

and buy this.......

This bit of Ikat cuteness costs a whopping $9.99. Done. It also comes in solid colors including a beyond divine lilac that will look faboo with a tan.

That concludes today's beach lesson.

You Don't Need a Sports Drink to Play the Wii and Other Deep Thoughts on Parenting.

2011-06-06T11:09:00.011-04:00

The fat Contessa.

It's been awhile since the Countess had an opinionated rant. Strap in my subjects; opinionated rant #4 is about to begin.

"I'm fat." pronounced the Contessa.

We women of Nassau County are a vain lot. We tan, we mani, we pedi, we wax, we botox, we highlight. We perpetually diet and/or work out like demons so we can still fit in the latest fashions and wear them to the annual PTA fundraiser. We take our Louis Vitton bags to Pathmark and little league games.

So when the Contessa proclaimed that she's fat, the Countess was not surprised. Combine the vain, hyper competitive atmosphere of Nassau County with hormones, and the knowledge that the Countess is making steady trips to Goodwill with clothes the Contessa can no longer fit in and there you have it. As the Contessa enters the tween years many changes are afoot in the Kingdom, including the requisite oily skin, bralettes, curves where there were none last week, and the pronouncement of I'm fat.

So what is the Countess to do at this critical junction in the young Contessa's life......NOTHING.

"You're not fat."

"Yes I am!"

"So move more and stop eating junk."

Until further need that's it my subjects; put down the remote and go outside, ideally with an apple in hand.

This is in stark contrast to a widely employed parenting technique the Countess likes to call Parental Outsourcing. It is believed that this technique originated with the Yuppies of New York City and quickly spread throughout Long Island, Westchester, Northern NJ, and Southern CT.

Parental Outsourcing is a favorite among the upwardly mobile and well educated, as it requires deep pockets to engage a cadre of specialists, employed for everything from making sure that your child's skin is clear, that they have the right wardrobe for summer camp "honey Soffee shorts are so last Tuesday!", that their grades are better than your neighbors/best frienemy/sisters kids, and that they are not fat. The parents simply don't have time to deal with such issues as they are busy shopping/working out/getting their nails done/working to pay for it all/drinking wine and bitching about their husbands with their girlfriends.

At least two of the Countess's subjects have recently outsourced their children's "food issues" to a Nutritionist. It's the Nutritionists problem now. The children are 10 and 11. Neither child takes any role in menu planning, cooks any of the meals, or does the food shopping. Yet it is they who now must sit with the Nutritionist to identify the "problem" that is making them fat and formulate a solution to fix it.

So here's thought Mom, instead of wasting money on a nutritionist so you have yet another thing to moan about whilst plying yourself with pinot grigio at your next ladies night/bitchfest, why don't you throw out the pudding cups and Gatorade (BTW, playing the Wii for hours on end does not merit consumption of sport drinks), and tell your child to go outside and play/ride a bike/jump on a jump rope/spin in circles/whatever!

Ahhh the Countess feels better now.

Carry on my subjects!

The Kingdom Gets Crafty.

2011-05-25T10:13:00.081-04:00

It may shock some to discover that among the Countess's many duties is the role of Girl Scout Troop Leader. No, she does not have a leaders uniform, and anyone spreading rumors of the Countess teaching young girls to start a campfire, serve in local government, cook, tie-dye, sew, and support community service projects whilst donning some hideous green pantsuit will be beheaded with all due haste.

The Contessa's troop decided that in order to meet the requirement of learning a new skill, they would learn how to sew on a sewing machine. An interesting choice, since sewing is something of a lost art in Nassau County. The truth is it is easier to find Kosher Chinese food in Nassau County than it is to find a fabric store. The Countess needed both Google and the Royal GPS to find the latter. The Countess's co-leader reacted to the idea of sewing as if hearing a dead language, and the Countess herself had to think for a moment to recall whether the Royal Machine was lying in wait in the attic, or lying in wait in the basement.

Once armed with an array of cute fabric and an even cuter apron pattern, the Countess and her troop set to work. Sewing on a sewing machine is actually easier than people imagine, but teaching a group of nine and ten year-olds how to use a sewing machine is quite another matter indeed. Suffice it to say after this experience the Countess can thread her machine and replace the needle in record time, and without uttering a single expletive.

For the girls part, there were nerves, doubt, bewilderment. For one thing, most didn't believe the Countess herself actually knew how to sew, and were won over only after witnessing the aforementioned high speed re threading demonstration.

"But that's not right!", exclaimed one little scout when told she must sew her apron ties right sides together. There was even an accompanying foot stomp.

"You'll turn them right side out later." replied the Countess.

"How?"

"You'll see."

In the end, we created this......

A happy little Contessa models her apron.

The Countess has to give a shout out to Jona Giammalva, seamstress extraordinaire and author of the terrific blog, Stop Staring and Start Sewing, and the creator of the Apron in an Hour pattern which the girls made. The genius of this pattern is that instead of cutting the fabric as needed, which calls for lots of scissors and a good deal of dexterity, you rip it in order to achieve the different size pieces required. The Countess can attest that ripping pretty fabric elicits shrieks of laughter and enthusiastic applause from 10 year-olds and gasping from co-leaders.

In addition to being a great troop project, the Countess also thinks this would make a mighty nice teacher gift, or a good distraction when the inevitable rainy week of summer strikes.

The Sunday Stunner - The Kingdom Survives!!!!!!

2011-05-22T18:08:00.010-04:00

Two happy apocalypse survivors.

Rejoice subjects!!! The Apocalypse is delayed until further notice.

After a string of unfortunate events including the Octomom, O.J., the Kardashians, and now the utterly ridiculous non-apocalypse, the following law is in effect.

California is grounded until further notice.

Furthermore, all states with names ending in the letter 'a' are on probation. Florida, don't even try to act surprised.

Since the world appears prepared to go on indefinitely, let's all use this opportunity to set a few goals. The thus-far-pretty-friggin-trying 2011 rolls on, despite predictions to the contrary, so the Kingdom is getting it's royal arse in gear with the following.

1. Eight weeks between visits to the colorist, not 12, definitely not 16.....eight.

2. Breakfast is not an option.

3. Insist that the Count Jr. or the Contessa treat me to some piano music every day.

4. Drink some water.

5. Read more.

6. Call the Queen Mother and the King at least twice a week.

7. Treat soda as a banned substance.

8. Bring back the bedtime story.

9. Rid the palace of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or brings joy to the Royal Family.

10. Spend more time doing what you love.

Earth lives!!! Party on, my subjects!!!!

Happy Easter My Subjects!

2011-04-24T07:04:00.002-04:00

Greetings my subjects. The Kingdom is on a road trip in the Adirondacks to spend Easter with members of the Royal Family.

Happy Easter to one and all.

The Sunday Stunner - Oh Yes, I Will Have Alec Baldwin's Baby.

2011-04-10T17:40:00.006-04:00

As if I didn't already have enough reasons to lurve Alec Baldwin, he gives me this.

J'dore. Merci Alec, you are the laugh out loud moment in my otherwise headache inducing Sunday.

The Sunday Stunner - Spring Sucks

2011-04-03T14:44:00.012-04:00

So it's finally Spring. The snow is gone, the skidding cars are gone, the snow shoveling is gone. Rejoice!!!! Except for one thing, Spring sucks.

See where I live Spring means sports. Nassau County is a constant, relentless drone of sports, sports, sports. Baseball, lacrosse, softball, soccer, flag football, roller hockey, and on, and on, and on. All the little children scurry about in a blissful frenzy trying to find their sport. All except for the Count Jr.

This is the Count Jr.'s first year away from baseball since he was five. He now plays no team sports. After last season, in which his inability to hit, catch, or throw became somewhat of a problem, I put my foot down.

"He hates it and he's terrible at it, so why do we do it?" I asked behind closed doors. We both knew the brace and the back made things difficult, but not this difficult. Plus his inability to master the basics was not lost on him, meaning most games ended in tears.

The Count and I made a deal that if Jr. learned some fundamentals in the off season, we would give it another try. Most every weekend the Count would lovingly entice Jr. to a catch, only to be rebuffed.

Finally it came time to sign up for Spring season.

"I don't think it's a good idea." And with a that single, common sense response, the Count Jr. promptly ended his baseball career. I was relived, the Count (also a coach) was horrified.

So now it's Spring, and all the little boys walk past our house on their way to practice a few blocks away in their cleats, with their smiling Dads carrying their equipment bags. Count Jr. is oblivious, but the Count seems weighed down by the realization that our little boy, in so many ways, just isn't like the other boys. He won't march in the parade, won't go to the picnics, and he chooses not to be a part of that smiling group of boys in their caps. The Count won't have the joy and validation that comes when a fellow Dad is praising our child for his great hit, or his great catch.

For my part, I want to poo-poo the Count and tell him it all means nothing, that the Count Jr. made the mature decision, mindful of his own limitations. Yet my heart breaks for him. He's a great Dad. He doesn't ask for much, just a game of catch with his son.

So the Kingdom's official policy on Spring is ...... Spring sucks.

The Wednesday Stunner - Adieu Elizabeth

2011-03-23T17:13:00.004-04:00

Teacher conferences, in-laws visiting, Board of Education meetings, doctors appointments, a upcoming 10th Birthday celebration for the Contessa, a car needing repairs.

Then I discovered She had left us. Peacefully, surrounded by loved ones, but gone none the less.

The moment I heard she'd gone I went searching for this photo. As a young girl I discovered it in a Life Magazine coffee table book in my parents house, and my ideal of feminine beauty was fully formed. Elizabeth Taylor, fresh from the shower, no makeup, photographed by Roddy McDowell. The dark, perfect eyebrows, the perfect nose, the magical way I see a young version of my Mom every time a look at this picture.

My love for Elizabeth has been unwavering and unconditional. I forgave every flaw and cheered every comeback. I was experiencing my first true heartbreak when Elizabeth Takes Off hit bookstores, and I devoured it. It was as if she wrote it to cheer me up. As my life was being impacted by AIDS there she was again; the most famous, glamorous woman in the universe throwing every bit of star power behind the role of a lifetime, Hollywood's first AIDS activist. To those being scorned, reviled, and simply left to die, she was their champion. To those content to silently pity, her strength and compassion challenged society to join the cause, and millions did.

Adieu sweet lady, Adieu.

The Sunday Stunner - the Academy Awards

2011-02-27T21:41:00.006-05:00

How bad could they actually get? Tonight the Kingdom got the answer.

It's not yet 10pm, and aside from this moment, which was equal parts endearing and terrifying, the Academy Awards are turning into one giant, embarrassing, awkward moment.

Sadly some Hollywood schmo will be forever known as..."the guy/gal who hired James Franco and Anne Hathaway to host". I want to hug them both and tell them life will get better. Billy Crystal, Alec Baldwin, Steve Martin, where are you? Sweet Jesus Hathaway is now sporting a Frau-do inspired by Cloris Leachman in Young Frankenstein.

Alice in Wonderland just won another award, but they have a picture from Lord of the Rings as the backdrop. Off with their heads!!!!!

The Kingdom's in a Funk

2011-01-31T23:08:00.022-05:00

The best thing we can say about 2011 is that the Kingdom has so far survived it.

The curving spine, the consultancy that ended the moment I fell in love with it, the kids school that is quickly turning into a full time job, the way too many days indoors, and the latest - the emergency organ transplant. But toughest of all for the Kingdom, the friends who split up. Not just any friends, the friends who made me believe that I could thrive in the strange and wonderful place known as Nassau County without getting a micro chip implanted in my head. The friends who effortlessly turned Friday nights with no plans into Friday nights full of wine and belly laughs. We will support them, encourage them, console them , give them pep talks, and selfishly mourn our foursome.

This nasty brew has fermented and left me in a funk. The Urban Dictionary defines a funk as a depressed mood. Luckily moods can come and go. So to find my way out of funkytown I thought I'd go searching in the blogosphere for a map of sorts, or at least some inspiration. This task was some comfort in itself because I quickly discovered a funkademic of sorts is spreading through the land.

A while back I stumbled upon Jess LC, a perky mix of shopping and blogging. Jess was in a funk too, and apparently not even her ridiculously cute jewelry or sassy new haircut could snap her out of it. She embarked on what she called a life realignment. Inspired by her simple but purposeful steps I came up with my own 5-day exit strategy from da Funk.

1. Stay faithful to my diet. C'mon, nothing makes you happy like getting on the scale and being a few pounds lighter. I've been following Weight Watchers for about a month and I love the new Points Plus plan. I use Weight Watchers E-tools which makes it much easier to stay on plan.

2. Arrange a charity pick up and get at least one bag ready for donation.

3. Focus on my business. Call three prospects/clients a day.

4. Go to a bikram class.

5. Clean out the pantry and the frig.

Five things, nothing huge like attempting to decorate the house over the weekend, reshape my body in 90 days, or de-clutter the house in a week. Just five nagging things that have been sitting on my to-do list for too long. Five things that will provide some sense of accomplishment while otherwise being surrounded by events I am powerless to change - something particularly difficult for the Countess to swallow. Five things to put me on the path outta da Funk.

Anyone else feelin' funky these days?

Aftershocks in the Kingdom

2011-01-22T22:17:00.007-05:00

Last year the Kingdom was rocked by the discovery of a benign tumor in Son's T7 vertebrae. The extremely rare eosinophilic granuloma magically receeded as abuptly as it came, leaving damaged bone and a curved spine in its wake.

Son attended only one day of the first grade before being forced to bedrest for nearly a month. He returned to school in a back brace, one which he would wear for 22 hours a day from October to June. When his Orthopedist told us the brace could be retired, there was joy in the Kingdom.

It's been 15 months since his diagnosis, seven months out of the brace. While we are quick to remind ourselves how lucky we were, there are persistent reminders that the damage will have lasting impacts. A Father watches a child who can't throw a ball to his Little League teammates. A Mother watches a boy who drew nearly every day now rarely pick up a crayon, and despite hours of practice, the quality of his handwriting is frozen in pre-school. Who knows if these things are related to his back and his LCH diagnosis, but every little thing makes you wonder.

Last week we had a routine visit to the Orthopedist that was anything but routine. A kyphosis of the spine is present, and physical therapy twice a week for the next six months is in order. Son's response to news that he was to be immediately pulled from PeeWee Wrestling and into physical therapy was simply, "will there be a shot?"

He may not want one, but God knows I could use one.

The Sunday Stunner - Monday Edition

2011-01-17T11:47:00.003-05:00

No words necessary.

The Sunday Stunner - A Room for Deep Thoughts

2011-01-02T21:21:00.005-05:00

Let's face it folks, while Saturday was the first day of 2011, Monday is the day we roll up our sleeves, say a prayer, cross our fingers, and dive into the new year.

Resolutions heard 'round the Kingdom include;

Go organic

Lose weight

Conquer demons

Live on a budget

Go back to school

Get a job

Quit

Fall in love

End a bad relationship

Forgive

Stop cursing

De-clutter

Learn to knit

Travel

Finish a project

Start a project

Yell less

Tomorrow I'll put a few resolutions to the test myself. I will also begin painting two bookcases in the den, hence this weeks Sunday Stunner. Who wouldn't want to be inspired in a room like this?

Image courtesy of my favorite source of potty-mouthed inspiration MFAMB.

The Sunday Stunner - Remain Calm

2010-12-05T23:03:00.005-05:00

It's about this time every year when friends and family begin to go batty over the impending birth of our Lord and Savior and the subsequent celebratory one upsmanship that ensues.

This week's Sunday Stunner is a reminder that while it's all too easy to go overboard this time of year, it's just as easy to take it slow.

Check back this week, I'll be posting some easy and meaningful gift ideas for young and old.

Now remain calm and enjoy.

The Sunday Stunner - Pug Obsessed

2010-11-14T06:35:00.004-05:00

Stunningly adorable, they're like Keith Richards and Mick Jager in dog form.

Yep, the Kingdom is on the hunt for a dog. Between a small yard, two kids who are less than disiplined when it comes to chores, and a Kingdom that likes travel and long days at the beach, this is quickly turning into a hunt for the Holy Grail.

Everything tells me this will be a Royal Disaster, but then I watch the kids play with the neighbors dogs, or I come across an amazing picture like this, and I'm thinking of dog names.

Give me stength.

Image from Flickr. Wish I could tell you by whom but internet crashed before I could bookmark it.

Eat This!! Cocoa Banana Loaf

2010-11-02T17:51:00.004-04:00

Cocoa Banana Loaf
Originally uploaded by kristin :: thekitchensink

Shocking but true, two blog entries in the same month.

During my extended absence from the Blogosphere I've managed to do some pretty blog worthy stuff, like bake this particularly tasty item from a wonderful blog called the Kitchen Sink Recipes.

At the helm of this beautifully photographed blog is Kristin, a young Chicago lawyer who knows that behind every great meal is a great story, which she tells with sentiment and warmth. I often think that if my Mom ever started a cooking blog, it would read a lot like the Kitchen Sink Recipes. The quintessential excellent home cook; Kristin does not have unlimited hours to shop for ingredients, and has a career that does not appear to be food related. She cooks often and well for the pure joy of it (not to mention her husband’s), and it shows. Reading her urban exploits also brings me back to the days when the Count and I would haunt NYC’s famous farmers markets, ethnic markets, and various purveyors, then encamp in our tiny NYC kitchen and transform our haul into something delectable.

Since I abhor the vast majority of store brought baked goods, the Kingdom is always on the hunt for new sources of tastiness to throw into the backpacks of the Count Jr. and the Contessa. This recipe is a keeper for several reasons; simple to make, tasty, travels well, and is a fine way to use old bananas, which if you have little ones you seem to always have in abundance.

Enjoy, but be sure to test the loaf with a toothpick before you decide it’s done. I ended up puting it back in the oven for an extra 10 minutes to finish it off.

Cocoa Banana Loaf

Adapted Slightly from Nick Malgieri’s The Modern Baker

Yield: 1 9- or 10-inch loaf*

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (spoon flour into dry-measure cup and level off)
2/3 cup alkalized (Dutch process) cocoa powder, sifted after measuring
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 medium, very ripe bananas, peeled and mashed with a fork to make 1 1/2 cups
1/2 cup sour cream
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
3 large eggs

Set a rack in the middle level of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Grease a 9- or 10-inch loaf pan.

Combine the flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt in a mixing bowl and stir well to mix. In a separate bowl, stir together the mashed bananas and sour cream; set aside.

Combine the butter, sugar, and brown sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer and place on mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Beat on medium speed for about a minute, or until well mixed and a little lightened in color. Beat in the eggs one at a time, beating smooth after each addition.

Decrease the mixer speed to low and beat in half the flour mixture. Stop the mixer and use a large rubber spatula to scrape down the bowl and beater. On low speed, beat in the banana mixture. After the batter has absorbed the banana mixture, beat in the remaining flour mixture. Stop and scrape down the bowl and beater again. Remove the bowl from the mixer and use a large rubber spatula to give a final mixing to the batter.

Spoon the batter into the prepared loaf pan. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, until the loaf is well-risen and firm to the touch. Test the loaf with a toothpick or the point if a thin-bladed knife – it should emerge with just a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Cool the loaf in the pan on a rack.

Once the loaf is cool, turn it out onto a board or serving plate. Dust with powdered sugar, if desired.

I'm BAAAAACK With a Sunday Stunner

2010-10-31T22:43:00.001-04:00

Happy Halloween!
Originally uploaded by Rex Maximilian

I know it's been quiet on the blog front for a long, long time. Much has happened in the Kingdom since I last blogged in JULY. Travel; home improvement projects; a sudden, glorious resurrection of my freelance work; a 4th grade teacher who takes academics VERY seriously; and a loss that rocked the Kingdom pretty much sums up the last three months.

I return to blogland with my usual Sunday fare, the Sunday Stunner.

Enjoy, and I'll keep in touch.

The Dee's 4th of July Sale

2010-07-04T00:42:00.021-04:00

Not too many folks associate a trip to the nursey with July 4th, but those are folks who have never been to the Dee's Garden sale.

The Dee's 4th of July sale is one of those rare retail events that leaves any and all who partake in it utterly and completely satified with the universe. I started going about four years ago with a favorite gardening buddy. She literally started planning for it weeks in advance, leaving blank spots in already glorious beds or creating holding beds to coddle her booty until permanent homes were found. I entered with $200 in my pocket, I left with enough plants to fill a bed roughly 18 feet wide by six feet deep. I also still had about $50 in left in my pocket. Undaunted by the sweltering July heat, we waited until nightfall and planted it all with aid of flashlights. I have never missed a sale since.

The rules are simple, doors open at 4am on July 3rd. 50% off all cash purchases, 40% off all charge purchases. No bags, pocketbooks, knapsacks, nothin'. A few years back my buddy and I arrived with a well worn copy of a book on native plants of Long Island and were allowed to enter with it only after the guards got on their walkie talkies and cleared it with the front office. Once clearing security, we cackled like two teenagers who'd sneaked some wine coolers into a Def Leppard concert.

The Dee's Nursery & Florist is among a handful of nurseries in Nassau County that offer top quality plants and everything you need to grow them, along with a healthy selection of garden furniture, bird baths, and general prettiness. There are others in Nassau county, such as the sprawling Martin Viette and the tres chic Dodds and Edder, but these are rarified gold coast affairs, best for those who dress up for trips to the nursery. Don't misunderstand, Dee's is no sloopy affair, and one certainly does not go there for the cheapest plants they can find, they go there for the best plants they can afford. I liken the 4th of July sale to Saks Fifth Avenue merchandise at Old Navy prices.

After making the mistake of watching the current episode of True Blood just before going to bed on Friday I stared at the cieling 'till close to 2am, effectively ruling out a 4am arrival. At shortly after 7am the place was hopping, but Dee's has mastered controlling the crowds, providing numerous parking lot attendants to guide you to a specific spot and in doing so keeping the affair from dissolving into a nasty free for all. Once inside you'll find the store immaculate, the crowds giddy, the staff abundant, informative, and cheerful.

I had a list; soaker hose, sprinkler, lupines, trellis, and pots for my X-mas amaryllis. With $160 dollars in my pocket, I expected to have enough left over for whatever suited my fancy.

Here's the haul.

1 large coreopsis (not on list)

1 large lupine

2 small ornamental grasses (not on list)

1 50ft. soaker hose

1 sprinkler

10 terra cotta pots with saucers

1 6ft. cedar trellis

1 wicker drum (not on list)

My total bill was $139.97. This year differed from past years in that I didn't purchase many plants, and at these prices $140 would fill a modest sized bed with perenials. The wicker drum was an off list purchase that will actually be used as an end table in my den, not bad for $35.00.

Something I didn't buy that deserves mentioning are Dee's spectacular hanging baskets. They come in both wrought iron baskets with coir liners or plastic baskets. I would be purchasing plastic baskets and transplanting it into my own wrought iron planters. Two hanging plants, $40.00. Breathtaking and cheap, can't beat that.

Now if anyone is out there thinking, "I could find a trellis for $10, and a sprinkler for $3.50!!!", by all means comment and let me know where.

The sale will run until July 11th. I suggest you get yourself there soon and get your gardening freak on.

Fashion Crimes Against the State

2010-05-21T20:16:00.007-04:00

One thing I'll say about the current administration, it trots out a great looking First Lady.

After eight years of Laura Bush's Talbots catalog fashion sense, finally a First Lady who dresses in a way that is simultaneously appropriate, fashionable, creative, and joyful. Hence it pains me to no end to see fall her victim to a fashion crime of Presidential proportions.

I love the gown, I luuuuuuuv the hair, I love her, but clearly whoever oversaw the fittings of this gown is a right wing Conservative. I mean what in name of Christ's tailor is going on underneath her right arm? Strapless gowns should NOT be fitted so tightly through the torso that your cup, or in this case armpit, runneth over. It's just wrong, and as a Nation we should strive to do better and wear clothes that actually fit us properly.

Like this,

To steal a famous political quote, "it's the tailoring stupid".

The Kingdom is Sweating, in a Good Way.

2010-05-04T08:47:00.009-04:00

"Gee, I wonder what the Kingdom is up to?"

If you asked this question last week, here is your answer.

Some of you may be wondering, why Countess? WHY? Why yoga, WHY Bikram?

A few reasons. First off the Countess has officially banished running from the Kingdom. It's been a long, bumpy, bouncy relationship that's floundered along for decades. But a month or so ago the Countess took a good, long stare at this.......

.....it's the $60 royal running corset, aptly named by retailer Title Nine "the last resort bra". By the way, bite me Title Nine. The Countess regarded it with her usual mix of contempt and dread when voice from the heavens said, "maybe a rack that needs to be encased in several layers of "wicking" fabric and held down with 25 hook and eye closures SHOULDN'T REALLY BE RUNNING AT ALL!!!! It was a liberating moment indeed. The Kingdom rejoiced.

But we missed the challenge of running, and we missed the sweat. We love a good sweat, always have. The Royal Complexion in particular, missed the benefits of a good sweat and it rebelled by reuniting the Countess with the train wreck that was her teenage complexion. Nothing pisses off the Countess more than investing in anti-wrinkle cream AND Proactiv. GRRRRRRRR. The Countess was also alarmed by the ominous series of snap, crackle, and pops that greeted her every morning as she rose from bed. Bikram's promise of abundant sweat and juicy joints was irresistible.

Bikram Yoga of RVC in Rockville Centre offers first timers 10 days of unlimited classes for only $20. The Countess knows a good deal when she sees one so last week she plunked down twenty bucks and went to FOUR 90-minute classes. Shocking on several levels; the heat, the LACK of soreness, the increased energy, the quality of sleep the whole week, and the sheer ability to do it without dropping 20 F-bombs and screwing up everyone's chakra. BTW, not included is the irritating yoga music and incense.

No more stiches in her side, no more hurting left knee, no more jumping jacks and knee lifts to the beat of Lady Gaga, no more Bra of Last Resort. The Kingdom is a happy, sweaty place indeed.

The Sunday Stunner - Adieu Decorno

2010-04-25T16:19:00.006-04:00

This week's Sunday Stunner comes courtesy of Decorno, and in more ways than one.

Like most people who have a blog, I started as a blog reader, blog lover, blog commenter. Decorno was one of my favorites from early on. A decor blog yes, but so much more. So many decor blogs are simply cut and pastes from Elle Decor, Domino, and British House and Garden accompanied by deliriously insightful commentary such as, "Fab", and "Oooooh". Decorno's flawless eye for images made you not just admire them, but imagine your entire life around them. It's great style combined with greater candor and an uncanny knack for knowing just what hook to drop in the water has generated some of the most entertaining comment slugfests in the blogosphere. I'm proud to say I've been bloodied in a few.

So it was with surprise and sadness that I read Decorno's final post today. She will be missed.

Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it - Ina Garten's Chocolate Frosting

2010-03-22T17:21:00.004-04:00

The Scene: My daughter's 9th birthday party.

Child #1 is presented with a vanilla cupcake slathered with chocolate frosting.

Child #1: "No thank you."

Child #2: (a neighborhood buddy who makes regular appearances in the Royal Kitchen): What?!!
Child #1: I don't like cupcakes.

Child #2: (visibly shaken) But you have to! Countess' frosting is AMAZING!!

Child #1 relents, tries the cupcake, and proceeds to devour it in blissful silence. This is why.

Ina Garten's Chocolate Frosting
.
24 ounces of semisweet chocolate chips
1 1/2 cups of heavy cream
2 tbsp. of light corn syrup
1/2 tsp. of vanilla extract
4 tbsp. of softened, unsalted butter

Place the chocolate chips and heavy cream in a bowl set over a pot of simmering water, stirring occasionally, until the chips are completely melted. Off the heat, add the corn syrup and vanilla and allow the chocolate mixture to cool to room temperature. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whisk the chocolate mixture and softened butter on medium speed for a few minutes, until it's thickened.

Of late I have been seeing the word "amazeballs" popping up here and there, and it describes this stuff spot on. Ina is the bomb. Trust me, heaven on a cupcake. Teachers at my children's school have responded with smiles and joyful noises when informed that I am arriving with cupcakes to a class function or birthday. Word of "the frosting" has gotten around.

That's my Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it for the week - Ina Garten's Chocolate Frosting.

The Sunday Stunner - What Can We Say, The Countess Loves Winter

2010-03-07T20:05:00.005-05:00

After weeks of relentless snow and cold, the good folks of Nassau County were treated to weekend of spectacular, warm, sunny weather.

The Countess is somewhat surprised to find herself still dreaming of a few more days of hot chocolate, snowball fights, warm fires, and skiing.

An Olympic Tear Jerker - Brought to You By Our Friends at Procter & Gamble

2010-02-26T10:56:00.009-05:00

Every two years it comes like clockwork, that Olympic commercial. As surely as figure skating, skiing, and hockey will come, so too will that one commercial that transforms you from passive viewer to blubbering heap in a mere 90 seconds.

Last night during the Women's Figure Skating event, P&G pushed all the right buttons. It took a few tries, but the Mom campaign finally got me. Judy Garland singing in the background was a masterful stroke indeed.

Townhouse Lady if you are reading I suggest you have the hankies ready well before you watch. Your hormonally enhanced, fertile self is no match for this.

I am the Countess and I am Not to be Messed With.

2010-02-23T16:11:00.005-05:00

Today the Kingdom traveled to Sloan Kettering Memorial Cancer Center for the Count Jr. to receive some scheduled monitoring.

After being sent to the 4th floor, a place that makes Newark Airport look atmospheric, we gave our sons age and waited 90 minutes before being told that we would be waiting another 45 minutes. The Countess promptly lost her sh*t, (please note that the Count is horrified at the thought of cussing on the Internet, perhaps he mulling a run for office) and informed the recently of legal age administrative staff that their complete inability to be proactive or show the slightest concern for the concept of time and space was un-flippin-acceptable. It is important to note that the Kingdom is well aware that this is not the personal shopper service at Saks and a certain amount of waiting comes with the territory. But in this case, the Kingdom could have easily gone to the 9th floor Pediatrics Wing, got their freak on with the Wii and be none the worse for wear. But no, let's have the six-year-old wait on uncomfortable furniture and stare at beige walls for two hours and fifteen minutes.

I am certain the young squires I slayed will all head out after work, pound down some sea breezes and relive the full on, hiss mode, ass whipping they got at the hands of the Countess. Let this be a lesson to them, smiling through incompetence does not excuse incompetence.

The Sunday Stunner - Go Bode Go!

2010-02-21T22:14:00.005-05:00

The Kingdom spent the school break skiing, loafing, visiting with the Countess of Suffolk County, and winnowing down the extensive Royal Toy Collection. All in all it was a great week off.

This weeks Sunday Stunner is a first in that it is not a place or an object, but a person.

While the Countess of Suffolk County cheers long and loud over team USA's thrashing of team Canada, Bode Miller is this Kingdom's olympic hero. Four years ago he was written off as an arrogant boob who didn't deliver. Today he embodies any number of lessons on humility, hard work, patience and redemption.

Go Bode Go!!

Oh Mr. McQueen Why Did You Have to Leave so Soon?

2010-02-11T18:52:00.010-05:00

Being insanely talented, visionary, and charismatic did not prove strong enough reasons to keep the feet of one Alexander McQueen rooted on earth. For that I am truly sad.

This recent design (above) is quintessential McQueen. With an artists eye and a mathematicians skill, few were capable of manipulating a pattern like McQueen. His clothes were expertly constructed, ladylike but with a twist of the macabre. A woman in McQueen is a woman with a bit of the devil in her.

His background as a costume designer made him adept at creating designs that could be worn by both First Lady's and punk rockers with equal ease. Architecturally flawless and theatrically daring, McQueen was never dull. Look at the dress above. It's a simple, sleeveless sheath dress. But tailor it just right, add a little detail at the shoulder, and work a little magic with the print, and you've got a dress fit for, well, Posh Spice.

And look at this bit of magnificence. It's ladylike materials used on a silhouette that is razor sharp and modern. A sixty year old woman could wear this and look as perfect as the Olsen below.

But sadly, creating beauty and making women feel beautiful was not enough to slay Mr. McQueen's demons.

To the friends and fans who saw the sadness and tried in vain to be a lifeline, my heart goes out to you.

The Countess and Her Car

2010-02-09T22:21:00.010-05:00

These days nothing sends the Northeast into a panic faster than a see of white looming on the weatherman's Dopler radar. This one promises to be a doozy, the hype was big enough to force a rare NYC snow day along with most of Long Island's schools closing before a single flake of snow had fallen.

Along with most of Nassau County, the Countess spent the day in her car. The list of stops was as follows;

Cross Island Fruit

Malverne Deli

Green Acres Mall

Target

Matty's Toy Shop

Entemann's Bakery

Kinkos

Tom's Shoe Repair

School

Dentist with Count Jr.

Friends house to pick up the Contessa

Snow Haus

The Countess is not a car person. Perhaps it was her many years happily using mass transit and her feet to get around her beloved NYC, but the driving thing has never really set her heart racing. But the payoff is a stocked house and everyone fully outfitted for a weekend of skiing.

How did you prepare for the big storm (if at all), and how will you handle the dreaded snow day?

Photo via PurpleMattFish's photostream on Flickr.

The Tuesday Stunner, and So Not in a Good Way.

2010-02-01T17:26:00.007-05:00

Ever since Lady Gaga and her crotch performed at the Grammy's on Sunday, the entire Kingdom is seeing this who-hah in our nightmares.

If y0u ask me, this is a prime example of loopy, American sensibilities. Adam Lambert kisses a guy at the American Music Awards and the country promptly goes bat shit. Lady Gaga's coochie, no problem. And what in the name of Peter, Paul, and Mary is going on in the back? Dear God.

It's obvious looking at this shot that Lady Gaga's bikini waxer should have walked away from the event with some kind of an award. Perhaps the Golden Va Jay Jay or The Academy of Folicular Sciences Lifetime Achievement Award. Damn!!

So very, deeply wrong.

The Sunday Stunner - Monday Edition

2010-02-01T12:33:00.004-05:00

All I can say is THANK GOD Pink is much better at spinning in mid air while delivering a crushing rendition of her new single, while looking FIERCE in her unitard, while bathing - than I am at posting videos.

By far the most unexpectedly cool performance at last night's Grammy's. Lady Gaga's entire production team was no doubt fired moments after she watched this jaw dropper.

The Countess Awards Her 2nd Gold Star

2010-01-26T22:40:00.006-05:00

The Kingdom has been struck down by a plague that is steadily weaving it's way through the South Shore of Long Island.

Exhausted and sickly, of course I spent most of today catching up with my Google reader. It was there that I found an incredible bit of comic genius at Go Fug Yourself. Proceed with due haste and read their hilarious fashion critique of this past weekends' U.S. Figure Skating Championships.

Feel the drama!!

Any theories on what in blazes the bizarro applique is supposed to symbolize?

The Golden Globes - The Countess Must Dish

2010-01-18T16:54:00.043-05:00

I know, I know. This is my first post of 2010 and I'm going to post about something completely superficial that has no real impact on our lives. I should be posting about Haiti, or my hopes for the year, or how I'm going to lose the 40 pounds that make me mutter F*(&! every time I get on the scale, or how I'm going to be the best Mom I can be. Screw it.

Let the fun begin bitches!!

one of my favorite blogs referred to this years Golden Globes as "the worst Red Carpet Ever". I say nay. As red carpets go, this years Golden Globes had everything a heart could desire in a red carpet, a healthy dose of gorgeous-ness, the delighted shock one feels when a regular Hollywood fashion train wreck nails it, and the smug satisfaction of knowing that despite personal trainers, stylists, airbrushed makeup, and surgical enhancements these bimbos still can't get it right.

We might as well begin with fellow Long Island native Mariah Carey. Jesus. Ridiculous implants and ridiculous overload on the self tanner (more about this later). Ironically from the neck up she looks fantastic.

Drew Barrymore. Hmmmm. Too washed out, ill fitting. I mean really people, what-the-hell is going on under her arm? If the Countess ever ventured out in public looking that way, heads would roll. But I've got a theory on what those what-the-hell's on her dress might be..

A boot scraper a la this
(which in use would provide some truly memorable photo ops at the after party.)

Courtney Cox. The bod is fab. The dress is meh. But the fact that she is turning into snake right before our very eyes earns a mention. Soon her ears will twitch every time she blinks.

Jennifer Garner. Much was made of her massive weight loss. A skinny actress in LA, no! You wanna see skinny? Go take a gander at Calista Flockhart on Brothers and Sisters. Now that's skinny.

...and she should have borrowed some self tanner from Mariah.

Sandra Bullock. Love the color. Definitely stolen from the set of Avatar.

In the nailed it category.

Maggie Gyllenhaal. She looked like the Goddess of Origami. Look at the poor turd behind her, he looks all of 4'7".

Reese Witherspoon. Beyond nailed it. Who wouldn't want to look like this?

Toni Colette. Looking fan-flippin-tastic while not trying to look 23.

Meanwhile, back on the fashion crazy train.

Kate Hudson. I didn't know the prostitutes from Cat House were renting out their costumes.

Fergie. Put down the self tanner. Repeat. PUT DOWN THE SELF TANNER.

Chloe Sevigny. The High Priestess of fashion crazy. I mean look at this expertly constructed bit-o-crazy. Love it. Shrieked with delight.

Christina Hendricks. I cannot be the only one who thought she got busy in the limo on the way to the show. The body, the bedroom hair, the pale-on-pale skin and dress. She's a modern day Varga girl and SHE MUST DIE!!

But sadly ladies, despite all your best efforts to look fantastic, which some of you surely did, you didn't know this was going to show up.....

and wipe the floor with all of you. Sweet Mother of Spectacular.

Ahhh, now I can return to my life.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to Everyone!!!

2009-12-24T13:46:00.005-05:00

Best wishes for a happy, healthy 2010.....and no, this was not taken in front of my house, though the little ones begged for similar decor at the castle next year.

And I hereby command you to go over to A Townhouselady's Life and listen to David Sedaris' hilarious tale of yuletide in the Netherlands.

The Sunday Stunner - It's Time to Get in the Spirit

2009-12-13T23:02:00.004-05:00

My loyal subjects, I know it's been a while. Please forgive me.

I finally started Christmas shopping on Friday and am amazed to find I am just about finished and already wrapping (this is a first).

This week's Sunday Stunner comes from the always lovely A Life More Fabulous. If this doesn't get you in the holiday mood, nothing will.

photo via i. Anton's photostream on Flickr.

Three Cheers for Anticlimactic Endings

2009-11-30T18:27:00.007-05:00

Phone rings. "SK Memorial" flashes on the caller ID. Expecting the call, I immediately answer while grabbing a pen and the notebook specifically designed to record any and all data on Son and sit on couch. I am ready.

Me: Hello

Nurse Practitioner at Sloan Kettering (Nurse): Hello, this is Nurse Ratched from Sloan Kettering. I have Son's results. (okay her name is not really Nurse Ratched, she is a terrific Nurse Practitioner who has been on Son's treatment team since day one).

Me: Okay. Bring it. (I swear to God I said this.)

Nurse: Okay then. Well the pet scan saw nothing and the MRI saw nothing.

Me: On the leg?

Nurse: Yes, on the leg.

Me: What?

Nurse: (whose smile can be heard over the phone) Yep, both were clean.

Me: (I scribble the results down quickly and then my hand freezes) I don't......wow. So....what do we do now?

Nurse: Well you're scheduled for a normal follow up in......

Me & Nurse in unison: January. (the idea of going 'till January without a trip to the Hospital is as easy for me to comprehend as Thanksgiving dinner on the Moon)

Me: Oh my God.

Nurse: I know. Oh, and the granuloma in his back is has receded significantly since the first MRI in September. (She sounds like she might actually burst out laughing at this point).

Me: Wow. (long pause) I have to call my husband and blubber. Have a really happy Thanksgiving.

Nurse: You too.

And as suddenly as chapter two of Son's Hystiocitosis drama began, it ended. What will happen in January God only knows, but for now I'll be happy with "whoops, nothing there after all".

The Kingdom is Bruised and Battered

2009-11-12T10:09:00.007-05:00

A little over a week ago the Royal Family walked out of Sloan Kettering in an exhausted state of euphoria. Fast on the heels of a benign biospy came the doctors recommendation that given there is no treatment for the eosinophilic granuloma in Son's back and that the granuloma will simply wither on its own, there would essentially be no treatment, just observation. No chemo, no radiation, no surgery. We had won.

I sat on the Long Island Railroad that evening and read Harry Potter and Sorcerers Stone to my two tired and grateful children. On occasion I would look up and catch others wistfully taking in the scene. Riding on that train I felt like one of the luckiest people on earth. I had won.

At 9:09pm that evening the kids were already in bed and I was watching TV when the phone rang. The words "Sloan Kettering" flashed on my TV.

The lead doctor on my sons "team" at Sloan is holding for me. This is the same man with the office that literally overflows with patients. But he's calling me, and it's 9:00 at night.

"Radiology thinks they see something on his leg." he says smoothly.

Instantly, our victory is over.

"What do we do about that?" I ask.

"Well we're all going to have another look at it and then my office will call you and we'll take it from there."

More. More tests. More shots. More screaming. More waiting. More calls to the insurance company. More concerned looks. More reassuring of siblings and parents. More distractions. More tension that leads to inane, hurtful arguments.

I couldn't even walk upstairs to tell Husband. When he came down I told him and he unleashed an expletive laden tirade the likes of which I have rarely seen in our 15 years together.

Thursday comes, the phone rings and yes, they all see something on his tibia. Our presence is requested so that once again Son can be poked and prodded in an effort to give whatever "it" is on his leg a proper name.

With the exception of his brace, Son shows no outward signs of any illness. But inside the Kingdom there are signs. The state of the house for one thing, my ability to essentially limit my wardrobe to four outfits and not really have a problem with that is another. The look of total exhaustation and fear that has become almost a constant on Husbands face.

The other day I caught myself taking a Hershey bar from the kids Halloween candy, dipping it into a jar of peanut butter and eating it right there standing at the kitchen counter. Mind you there wasn't even marijuana involved in this episode. Just me and my stress.

So tomorrow we head back to Sloan. I will look around at all those sick kids and their terrified parents and I know that 99% of them would still change places with me in a heartbeat. We are beaten up and exhausted, but ultimately we are still winning.

The Royal Family Visits the Cancer Center - Part III, The Land of OZ

2009-11-11T23:00:00.000-05:00

....Okay folks I admit it, I left you hanging on this one. If you've been following our unfolding saga you know that Son's biopsy came back clean, but even that bit of wonderful news has proven to be far from the end of the story.

Something about writing this in the moment is frankly very discombobulating. I found myself so exhausted after posting Part II that I really couldn't fathom plunging headlong into Part III. But I felt obligated to write it, if for no other reason than as a tribute to the 9th Floor Pediatrics Unit at Sloan Kettering.

*****

When we last left off I was blubbering, flailing about in my purse, and visiting the Sloan Kettering cafeteria.

All told it was a two and half hour wait before we finally met the doctor. He came with glowing credentials, but all I saw was a man overwhelmed by a stampede of patients. There were people in the waiting area who were literally fighting to live another year, so who were we on the pecking order? And the Doctors scoffed at his brace, and that ticked me off. Well maybe if you hadn't waited a month to tune into our program already in progress you would know that the only reason he can get up and down stairs, play with his buddies, and STAND UP is that brace! This was supposedly one of the great cancer centers of the world and Husband and I left utterly drained and confused, with Son babbling gibberish to a smiley faced balloon man made out of a surgical glove.

It would be another 15 days of waiting before we would return, and then another five before the actually biopsy. No sense of urgency whatsoever.

Fast forward fifteen days to the Pediatric Work-up. Son is to submit to a battery of tests and meets with his Team. Whatever.

Son, Husband, and Cynical Mother arrive for the Pediatric Work-up promptly at 10. A pre-admission phone call stated we'd be heading to the 9th floor, no registration necessary. Expectations were low. Husband carried a knapsack filled with books, toys, and snacks to keep Son entertained during the long wait.

I had envisioned a hospital ward with some bright colors, maybe balloons painted on the walls, I was wrong on all counts. Be warned earthlings, walking onto the 9th floor Pediatrics Dept. at Sloan for the first time is like rounding a corner at the local Stop n' Shop and entering OZ.

The first thing you notice is no white. Walls of apple green and orange. To the left is the check-in desk, manned by the kind of adorable 20-somethings you'd like your daughter to grow up to be. I head to the desk, Son beelines to the spectacular fish tank just opposite the desk.

"Hi I'm here to check in my Son". Son has now joined me at the desk. Immediately the young women behind the desk enthusiastically greet him by name.

"Hi" says one.

"Hey there." says another.

"Hi, there. I'm Lindsey." A smiling Lindsey comes out from behind the desk and approaches Son, bending down so they are close to eye level and stretches out her hand. Not taking his eyes off her face, he reaches up with his hand to shake hers and greets her. Husband and I watch this scene, noting with no small amount of amusement that Son is dazzled.

"Is this your Mom and Dad?" she asks. While we are clearly cramping his style, he claims us his his.

Heading deeper into the Peds. Unit we see a large glass pavilion on our left. Again there are still no obvious signs that you are in a hospital. The pavilion is nearly two stories high with all manner of books, craft stations, toys, and video stations housed within. A huge glass ceiling encloses the whole area, no greenish hospital lighting for this crew. On the right are couches, lounge chairs and coffee tables. This area is filled for the most part with adults, many of whom look more at home here than I ever want to be.

We are given the grand tour, and we are floored. But I know eventually we will get down to business, and that will likely begin with a needle.

There is a specific area on the Peds. Unit dedicated to collection of fluids. As we settle in I notice a young girl, about 13 and her Mom. She is the typical NYC kid, confident, chic, completely unflappable, she walks around like she owns the place. I imagine that had we stayed in the city this is exactly what the Daughter would grow up to be.

Son's name is called. We are lead into a room filled with about ten small stalls. We are placed in a stall and immediately to our right a young boy is emitting blood curdling screams. His mother speaks to him calmly, but he continues to wail. I notice Husbands eyes continually darting in that direction. The nurses offer us the option to move to the other side of the room. Honestly we would have needed to move to Brooklyn to not hear the screaming, so onward we press.

"Am I getting a shot?" Son asks.

"Just a little one."

Son attempts to back out of the stall but Mom and Dad are there to block his way. Then he tries to cut a deal, pleading with the nurses to let him do it later or pee in the cup. I've heard it all before so the fear and sadness in his voice doesn't phase me all that much, but Husband is shaken. And that's just the beginning.

"This is going to suck." I say quietly. This is directed at Husband, but I'm not up for a discussion on the subject so I keep my eyes dead ahead.

Within less than a minute, we've pinned our screaming son to my husbands lap. I am holding Son's arm outstretched and sing-songing comforting words into his ear. I notice Husband is sweating at the temple. Son is screaming frantically. Then it is over, he wails a bit but is quickly entertained by the spectacle of his own blood filling up various colored test tubes.

Husband looks shaken and miserable as we walk out of the stall. I'm not doing great myself but I can fake it.

"That's the worst part of the day." I say, praying I won't be proven wrong by lunch.

We are then informed that Son will have to leave some pee in a cup as well. Husband is all over it. As the two of them head off the bathroom to take care of business I wander a bit before heading back to the desk and fill Lindsey in on our progress.

"We're finished with the shots." I am now prepared for a wait of Sloan Kettering magnitude, which means hours.

"Your team will be ready to meet to with you soon." She quickly comes out from behind the desk when she sees the man of the hour approaching. Note that while I don't mention Son's name here, Lindsey has committed it to memory and addresses him by name whenever she speaks to him.

"Hey there. Would you like to play the Wii until your team is ready to see you?" Son clasped his hands together as if in prayer and nods in the affirmative. Lindsey leads us into the pavilion and sets up Husband and Son to play Wii bowling. As the two thoroughly enjoy themselves, once again my gaze settles on a youngster nearby. She is about six years old, and a tiny six at that, dressed in pink jammies, no visible hair, an ambulatory IV unit stands next to her. Yep, I'm in hospital alright.

Husband's Blackberry is buzzing a blue steak. He has missed an enormous amount of work as a result of Son's recent medical drama and he is ever mindful of not falling behind. I offer to take his place and he gratefully hands me the Wii controller so he can attending to his buzzing friend.

Just as Son and I are about to settle in, a young boy tentatively approaches. I recognize him immediately as the boy who was screaming in the stall next to us. Getting a good look at him, I am heartbroken knowing that such painful screams could come out of such a shy and tiny creature.

"Would you like to play?" I ask. He nods in the affirmative.

Son immediately brings him up to speed on the game in progress and the two are happily swinging their "bowling balls" around in no time. There are several empty seats around me, and a slender, dark haired woman that is clearly the boys mother takes one. We introduce ourselves. At some point we must acknowledge that we are not on a park bench but in a hospital, but I don't know the protocol.

"Who are you seeing?" she asks.

"I'm not really sure, we are meeting our team for the first time." I answer. There is an immediate spark in her eye that comes with the realization that she has a new pupil. She imparts an incredible amount of information in a few short minutes on subjects ranging from wait times and biopsies, to a special cream that will deaden the skin where the needles enter. I am taking notes. I discover that she herself is a doctor and that her six year-old son has recently finished a course of chemo and radiation for a tumor in one of his muscles. Her name is Reva.

"Your team is ready." Lindsey announces as if we've won a prize. I tear Son away from the Wii, Husband away from his Blackberry, and bid my new friend goodbye, she wishes me luck. We are lead down a hallway off the main waiting area where sure enough there is a team waiting for us. This office is nothing like the barren, rental-office we saw on our first visit, it is a place bursting with color and personality, a man-cave that houses all that is near and dear to the Doctor who makes his professional home there. Met paraphernalia abounds, as do various signs and certificates in Hebrew. We are greeted by the smiling doctor who inhabits this crazy space, another doctor, and a nurse practitioner. For almost 45 minutes these doctors and nurses SPEAK to us, asking Husband and I about our health and family histories, asking Son about his pain, his brace, his teachers, his favorite food, you name it. I am floored by the attention to detail, and by the luxury of time, something so few doctors seem willing or able to lavish on their patients these days.

It is decided that the MRI scheduled for today will not be performed in order to minimize Son's exposure to radiation. That leaves only some X-rays and and EKG. It is a long day, but it seems so much shorter compared to that endless first day.

The day left us exhausted, and completely dazzled by the level of care, creativity, confidence, technology and intellectual gravitas we encountered on the 9th floor. If I wasn't wowed by Sloan Kettering after my first visit, I surely am now. It is now clear to me why people will cross oceans to come here.

We've been drifting at sea for a long time now, but after this I can finally see the shore.

If Only Hideki Had Talked to Me First

2009-11-05T11:46:00.008-05:00

With the economy beginning to improve, the Countess would like to humbly suggest that the Yankees set a little money aside to purchase a Berlitz course for Hideki Matsui. Is it too much to ask that after six years in New York the man be able to say "thank you, most happy, feeling very good" without a translator? REALLY. If nothing else, just whip off a few lyrics from Empire State of Mind. Imagine if you can Matsui standing in front of the screaming throngs at Yankee Stadium holding the trophy over his head with that sheepish smile.

"...these streets will make you feel brand new. Big lights will inspire you, let's hear it for New York".

Or lead the crowd in a chorus of,

"LET'S GO YANKEES!!!!"

One can only imagine the pandemonium that would have ensued.

The Countess gives much thanks to the Yankees of New York who with their win have once again restored order to the universe.

The Sunday Stunner - Quiet Time

2009-11-01T23:27:00.006-05:00

This was an epic week in the Kingdom.

The Count Jr.'s biopsy came back clean. While he has been diagnosed with a strange and rare disease called Histiocytosis, the Kingdom will take strange and rare over cancer any day of the week.

This weeks Sunday Stunner takes me back to a wonderful day with the family in Muir Woods. If you are ever in San Francisco I strongly urge to take the short drive out of town to visit this magical place.

After weeks of mayhem, fear, and uncertainty I think back to that amazing day, four intrepid explorers who kept on walking, grateful that we were standing in the midst of one of God's greatest experiments.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-10-25T22:33:00.008-04:00

This week's Sunday Stunner had me at hello. These days I feel a lot like this sunflower, looking around thinking, "Hey, what happened to the Summer?" All the drama of September still has me feeling like some kind of time traveler, with days whizzing by one minute and time standing still the next.

Bewildered, crumpled, but still a pretty damn good lookin' sunflower.

Photo via that wonderful country girl Megan and her terrific blog Whatever.

The Sunday Stunner - Durango

2009-10-18T19:52:00.003-04:00

This beyond amazing shot comes courtesy of Wide Open Spaces. It's getting embarrassing how many Sunday Stunners have come from this terrific and truly stunning blog.

Question for y'all. What's your favorite eye candy blog?

Reason 9,824,733 Why the Count is the Shiz

2009-10-17T08:32:00.002-04:00

Things have been hairy this week. Lots of typical kid activities to keep you on your toes combined with long, complicated trips to the hospital with the Count Jr., to REALLY keep you on your toes. Amidst the chaos came this memorable gem.

It's Wednesday, and in a rare move I've decided to make breakfast for dinner, banana and blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon. The kids are overjoyed. The Count arrives home to a kitchen smelling like bacon and a wife in an apron flipping pancakes and he too is amused. After the standard welcome home smooch and some small talk the Count opens a bottle of champagne.

"What are we celebrating?" I ask.

"I'm making mimosas....what else do you drink with breakfast?"

I repeat, the Shiz.

The Sunday Stunner - No Joy in Beantown

2009-10-11T21:54:00.003-04:00

It's no secret that the Countess, and most of the Kingdom, hates the Red Sox. When she married the Count, he came with several branches of his family tree covered with Boston Red Sox lovers, born and bred season ticket holders.

At Thanksgiving, she will see them all and make them gag on yet another large helping of defeat and disappointment.

LET'S GO YANKEES!!!!!!!

The Royal Family Visits the Cancer Factory - Part II

2009-10-09T16:41:00.003-04:00

Picking up where we left off yesterday.

.....Son and I find our seats in the waiting area and he whips out his DS, a trusted friend during the many long waits in many doctors offices we've visited over the last few months. The waiting area holds about 45 people and from the moment we enter, it fills up steadily. I quickly notice that Son is unique among the group, it's youngest member, youngest by a mile. While he is well behaved, the Count Jr. is not a comforting presence in the room. No one talks to him, looks at him, makes eye contact with him. Scratch that, I do catch one or two folks looking at him. I recognize their expression and instantly it is burned into psyche, their expressions of pity. Pity for me. Pity for my child. My child sitting and waiting his turn at the cancer factory. At that moment I feel a sharp pain in my chest, like a hand has closed around my heart for a few seconds. I actually feel my organs spasm before finally relaxing, leaving me lightheaded and terrified.

Husband returns and settles in. He hands me a clip board with a half dozen or so double-sided pages for me to fill out. This little exercise takes me close to a half hour, with me and my lucky pen and my Palm organizer searching for dates and phone numbers and referring physicians.

I need something else to do. I know, I'll rearrange my purse. I had changed handbags that morning, opting for a lovely black leather tote that Husband gave me as a gift years ago. I adore the bag, it is chic, simple, practical, timeless. This was the bag I carried to important meetings with important clients back in the day, it seems only fitting. Inside there are pockets and compartments abounding, and I will neatly tuck everything into its proper place and all will be right with the world. This utterly stupid exercise goes on for over 30 minutes, until I catch sight of her. She's about six feet away from me, her seat at a right angle to mine. She is looking straight ahead, but her eyes are sharply focused on something to her right, me. I notice that her arm pressing up against her husband, she is silently trying to get his attention. Trying to get his attention so together they can gawk at the pathetic, frenzied, powerless creature that is me.

In response to this I sob. It's a small one, but there are more coming and my eyes are now stinging and I realize I need to put as much space as possible between me and Son, who cannot see his Mom lose it. I bolt into the hallway and sob for about two minutes, one of those lovely fits filled with snot and spit that produces sounds of anguish I'm thankful to say I don't make often, so the whole thing comes as somewhat of a surprise.

"What's wrong?" Husband is beside me, I don't look at him, but I can hear the concern and surprise in his voice. I haven't cried since September 9th, the day we first heard the words eosinophilic granuloma and the day Husband suggested we put our son on the prayer list at Church.

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

I clean myself up and sit back down. More waiting. I look to Husband.

"What time is it? I ask.

"Ten after eleven." He responds.

An hour and ten minutes seems like enough waiting for me. I now have a new task. I approach the nest and smile warmly.

"How we doing?" I ask, using the same voice I use when I'm trying convince a flight attendant to let me board the plane early.

"Fine." chirps a fledgling, barely looking up from his computer.

"It's been about on hour. How much longer do we think this is going to be?" I inquire. Husband, concerned I may cold cock someone at any moment is now standing by my side.

"Well there are several people in front of you."

"I understand. But I have a six-year-old boy and there's only so long he can wait." I remain calm.

The fledgling looks up. I am giving him my best "help me help you" look. His expression changes, and somewhere in his brain a light bulb goes on.

"We can do the x-rays now, before the consult." The nest begins buzzing with activity, fledglings converse, phone calls are made.

"Go get him." I tell the husband. Moments later Husband appears with Son.

"Mom, I'm hungry." Of course he is. I had envisioned lunch at Serendipity, with the little man joyously devouring a sundae, but the Sloan schedule has squashed any chance of that.

"Okay go back to the elevators and go down to six, they will be waiting for you."

"Thank you very much." I resist the urge to kiss the little fledgling on the face.

Where 20 minutes ago I was a blubbering mass of fluids, now I am a woman with a purpose. Despite have little to no idea where I’m going, I stride with complete confidence down various hallways, and finally to the elevator.

“Mom, hungry.” Son will not be denied.

We arrive at X-ray and sure enough they are waiting for us.

“HUNGRY!!”

“Where is the cafeteria?” I ask.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.” I tell husband, and then I'm off. So much to accomplish!

In the commissary I purchase the kind of tasty, nutritious lunch that Super Nanny would be proud of. Then off to the gift shop to see if there isn’t a little toy, or puzzle, or game for Son as I fear his brain may melt after prolonged exposure to the DS. No luck.

Sons tasty lunch and I head back to the elevators. Despite my purposeful strides, I cannot avoid the reality that everywhere I turn, everywhere I look there is someone in a wheelchair, on a cot, walking with their IV, fighting for their lives.

Tune in Monday for Part III, where we finally see a doctor!!!

The Royal Family Visits the Cancer Factory - Part I

2009-10-08T15:28:00.001-04:00

Sloan Kettering. Perhaps no two words in the English language provoke fear quite like they do.

"Where do you go from here?"

"So what's with the growth in his back? How do you treat it?"

"Where were you guys?"

"So what's this I'm hearing about Son?"

All these questions were asked of me this week. Buried within the answers were the words "Sloan Kettering", and each time I spoke them the responses ranged from furrowed brows, to gasps, to "oh no".

And now it's done, Husband, Son and I spent most of last Thursday there and survived to tell about it, and tell I will.

Yes, Sloan is the best of the best, the New York Yankees of cancer hospitals. But like a fortress is designed to protect those within, the doctors at Sloan are encased in a bureaucracy so complex and so unfeeling that at times I imagined somewhere within its hallowed halls someone, or something has decided that cancer alone, or the mere prospect of it, simply does not merit one worthy of admittance.

It is October 1st, more than twenty days after we first heard the words eosinophilic granuloma. We ride the LIRR into Hunters Point and from there get on the subway to Sloan. With Sons hand in mine, we watch as the workforce leaves us in the dust. Such a sense of purpose and detachment, but along the way people watch my son with a smile as he calmly takes a seat on the subway, or yelps with joy after vanquishing an opponent on his DS, or asks me for a drink as if the number 6 subway line has a bar car.

Once inside Sloan Kettering we are directed to the elevators. Riding the elevator with us is an immaculate, white haired gentleman in his sixties. Simultaneously my husband and I look at the name neatly embroidered onto his lab coat and realize he is who we are here to see. My husband introduces himself, then me, and finally his newest patient. The doctor is gracious but thrown. He has lost control of the situation and is now exposed and unguarded in an elevator with his patient and his parents.

The elevator doors open, and he strides purposefully down the hall. Like the commuters, we are quickly left in the dust. I make a mental note of the exchange. More walking, more turning down halls, more walking. We reach the correct suite and check in at the desk. It's really not a desk, it is more of an administrative nest. Sitting within the nest are no less than six employees, answering phones, typing, staring at screens, talking with patients, processing paperwork. We introduce ourselves to the fledglings within the nest and they promptly begin chirping.

"Did you register?"

"Yes I pre-registered via phone."

"No you need to register here."

"That wasn't what I did with the finance office?"

"No that's just for insurance."

"How do we register?"

"You have to go back downstairs." Translated that means half a city block across the building with several turns thrown in for good measure, back to the elevator bank, down eight floors, and back to guy who smiled at us, directed us to our doctor, and said nothing whatsoever about registration when we entered.

This is the first moment where I consider hurling myself into the nest and slaughtering those within as a viable option. My eyes narrow, brows furrow, and breathing slows in an ominous fashion Husband knows all too well, he moves quickly.

"That's fine. You guys go sit down, I'll take care of it."

There we sit, for two and a half hours. Waiting.

Check in tomorrow for Part Two.

Eat This! Moroccan Chicken

2009-10-06T19:05:00.003-04:00

As part of the Online Cooking Club currently hosted by Raising Foodies, here's our entry for week three.

If you've followed the Countess for any period of time you know she's somewhat obsessed with The Blushing Hostess. Her energy is boundless, her posts meticulously researched, her taste is impeccable and her tongue (or in this case, keyboard) is razor sharp when necessary. This blog single-handedly converted the castle from paper to cloth napkins.

The goal of the Online Cooking Club is to cook a new dish each week for your family and share it with the group. It seems only fitting that we would turn to the Blushing Hostess sister site, The Blushing Hostess Cooks for this weeks dinner, Moroccan Chicken. It was served with rice, string beans, and a green salad and the wee ones LOVED it, just like she promised.

Moroccan Chicken with Green Olives and Lemon
Adapted from this Bon Appetit recipe
4 servings

2 lemons
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large onion, halved, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 tablespoon paprika
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
2 cups low-salt chicken broth
1 4 1/2-pound chicken, cut into 8 pieces
1/2 cup green olives

Salt and pepper the chicken breasts, drumsticks, things, and drumlets (tip: freeze the back and wings and use later for stock). Film the bottom of a large fry pan with olive oil and brown the chicken, about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, cut 1 lemon into 8 wedges. Squeeze enough juice from second lemon to measure 2 tablespoons; set wedges and juice aside. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and sprinkle with salt and pepper; saute until golden brown, about 8 minutes. Add the next 5 ingredients; stir 1 minute. Add broth and bring to a boil.

Add the chicken to the skillet with the the onions. Add lemon wedges. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until chicken is cooked through, turning halfway through, 25 to 30 minutes. Transfer chicken to a cutting board and debone, place on your platter in some pretty fashion.

Add olives and 2 tablespoons lemon juice to skillet. Increase heat to high and boil uncovered to thicken slightly, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Pour over chicken.

Photo and recipe via The Blushing Hostess Cooks

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs - hmmmm, er, yeah.

2009-09-27T13:50:00.018-04:00

We're gonna need to talk about this one people.

Since I'm a glass half full kinda gal we'll start with what I liked, even loved about this movie.

Wonderful voice-overs. There's not a dud in the bunch, but among this stellar group that includes Neil Patrick Harris, Anna Ferris, and James Cahn, two stand out;

Flint Lockwood - This unapologetic nerd is done proud by Bill Hader. Flint is a fearless risk-taker (who else would invent a rat bird), but also yearns to be prom king, or at least feel what it's like to be prom king. Hader nails it, challenging the same I-just-wanna-be-cool vibe he played so brilliantly in Superbad.

Earl Devereaux - Every time this character back flipped (literally) into the frame I smiled. Casting Mr. T to play the loving-yet-pathological town policeman could give Don Rickles' Mr. Potato Head a run for it's money as one of the great voice overs EVER.

This is a story with a host of great messages. Be original. Failure is just part of the road to success. Loving yourself is more important than being loved for the wrong reasons by others. Too much of anything is never a good thing.

But there were some problems.

Rat birds. Perhaps the most disturbing bad idea to come along in quite a while. "Why would you do that? That's just weird dude". Direct quote from my daughter.

Overly caffeinated animators. The amount of movement on screen is off the charts, combined with a brighter than bright color palette and I found myself wishing for an aroma therapy candle and a Tylenol. I can't imagine what the 3D version is like.

Hmmmmmm. Errrr. How do I put this. Uhhhh. ANAL IMAGERY!!!!! Jesus Christ I felt like I was trapped in a Robert Mapplethorpe cartoon. Way too much anal imagery for me to really handle with my eight and six year-olds present. Scratch that. Way too much anal imagery, period.

Yes, it's better than many other children's films out there now; but does the world really need hyper leading men, binge eating villains, and a sphincter out to destroy the world?

Eat This! Online Cooking Club - Week One.

2009-09-23T12:28:00.011-04:00

Yesterday was momentous day for our family. After an endless month of pain, the Count Jr. finally received his back brace. As I posted earlier, the little man has a benign growth on his T7 vertebrae. We discovered the vertebrae had also cracked as a result of the pressure caused by the growth. It has been an agonizing few weeks for the Count and me. Seeing your child in prolonged pain is fresh Hell indeed.

Coming home from the doctors office I informed Count Jr. that he could have anything he wanted for dinner.

"Corn dogs!" he chirped.

"No."

"Pizza!" he cheered.

"It has to be something I can cook at home." I'm such a buzz kill.

He thought for a moment before replying, "meatloaf."

"Okay."

"Yeah Mom, you make the best meatloaf." Mom's heart melts.

And if I do say so myself it is some pretty damn good meatloaf. For those of you also participating in the Raising Foodies Online Cooking Club, this is my submission for Week One. Yes, I know I am supposed to cook something new but on this day what the Count Jr. wanted, the Count Jr. got.

My recipe is a slightly tweaked version of Bill Blass' Meatloaf recipe featured in a wonderful cookbook written by Molly O'Neill titled New York Cookbook. This is one of my favorite cookbooks as it shares fascinating and funny stories about the infinite variety cuisines and cultures that really sets New York apart from anywhere else in the world.

Enjoy.

The Countess' Slightly Tweaked Version of Bill Blass' Meatloaf

1 cup chopped celery
1 chopped onion
3 tablespoons butter
2 pound ground beef
1/2 pound ground veal
1/2 ground pork
1/2 chopped fresh parsley
1/3 cup of sour cream
1/2 cup breadcrumbs
Pinch of dried thyme
Pinch of dried marjoram
3/4 tablespoon of kosher salt (or o taste)
1/2 teaspoon of black pepper
1 egg
1 tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce
3/4 cup of Heinz chili sauce

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Oil a 8X4 inch loaf pan.

2. Melt the butter in a heavy skillet over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and celery and saute until soft. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.

3. In a small bowl, lightly beat the egg and Worcestershire sauce. Set aside.

4. In a large bowl add the meats, parsley, sour cream, bread crumbs, thyme, marjoram, salt and pepper, sauteed onion and celery, and egg mixture. Work with your hands until combined.

5. Transfer the mixture into the loaf pan and again using your hands form into a loaf shape.

6. Pour the chili sauce over the top.

7. Place the loaf pan on a jelly roll pan or rimmed cookie sheet and bake for 1 hour.

Served with mashes potatoes and a nice green vegetable, this is the quintessential family dinner.

In Case You're Wondering What I Would Have Worn to the Emmys.

2009-09-21T15:39:00.009-04:00

Let's imagine that one of the dozen or so folks who looks at this insanely witty blog-o-mine is actually a front for Oprah's Harpo Productions. Unable to contain themselves any longer, they storm into Oprah's dressing room just as Reggie is doing her make-up.

"Good God Oprah please give this woman a show!"

Oprah reads the famous missing panties post and does just that. Frankly, the show is brilliant. During season one Eddie Ross redecorates my house using only a hot glue gun, a Sharpie pen, and items purchased at Dairy Barn; I am "styled" by Rachel (I DIE) Zoe who after looking at my closet decides that Land's End polo shirts are INSANE; I bitch slap Glenn Beck on-air, who later donates all his wealth to Planned Parenthood, the Boys and Girls Club, the Innocence Project, and the University of Maine (go Black Bears!) in my honor; and spend an entire episode making out with Don Draper (sorry honey!!). I am of course nominated for the Emmy.

On the red carpet I am a vision in J. Mendel.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-09-20T21:34:00.007-04:00

The absolute genius of Alessandra Branca once again knocks my socks off. No one does red like Ms. Branca.

When the Going Gets Tough, Make the Beds

2009-09-17T07:20:00.013-04:00

The past week has been crisis time here at the castle. Phone calls and visits with doctors, meetings with teachers, and fielding questions from curious and concerned parents and friends has dominated nearly every waking hour of the past nine days. Add to that the sad news that my best friends Dad past away early yesterday morning.

"How are you doing?" is a question I've been asked over and over again.

The answer is, "Pretty good actually".

I thought about that the other night, why I'm okay and why others faced with these issues would "be hitting the breakfast wine" as my friend Mary so perfectly puts it. Yes part of it is my personality, part of it is that my role as a Mom forces me to Keep Calm and Carry On, and part of it is that I am blessed with an amazing group of friends ready to help, a terrific husband, and family that is always at the ready. My husband's family lives on the west coast, and they have been wonderful in sending gifts for the kids and calling regularly. Each of them plays a huge role in keeping us all afloat during this challenging time. But I will share with you a few tips that make getting through tough times a little easier.

1. Have a mechanism to collect random thoughts with you at all times. It does not matter if it's a Blackberry or a notepad that fits in your pocket. When your mind is racing you need a reliable place to catch random details like - milk - pickup dry cleaning - call Sue - Q-tips - permission slip- bone scan.

2. If you can't stick to any kind of a housework routine, just make the beds.

3. Use a delivery service for your groceries.

4. Set aside a specific time to deal with updates to friends and loved ones via phone and email. Outside of that time, be ruthless about screening your calls.

5. If you need time alone, find it by getting up earlier rather than staying up later. You need all the energy you can, so if possible, go to bed earlier than usual.

6. Eat as healthy as you can.

7. Keep meal times and routines as normal as possible. Even if you are eating take out, serve it on plates and try to stick to as many mealtime rituals as possible. This is a great comfort to the little people.

8. Have a news blackout. Watching another segment about how screwed up our government is or the drug deal that went bad leaving 3 dead including a 3 year-old boy is not going to help much.

9. Indulge in a guilty pleasure - and I don't mean the aforementioned breakfast wine. From 2:00 - 2:35 today I will be folding laundry while watching the Young and the Restless on DVR (no time for commercials).

10. Avoid alcohol. In a crisis you need to be sharp, not buzzed. While in crisis mode many of us forget to eat or just snack and that can really ramp up the affects of alcohol. Tuesday night I had a glass of red wine before dinner, my husband topped it off for dinner, and I fell sound asleep while reading stories to the kids. Not good.

I won't kid you, making the bed won't solve a single problem, but that single bit of order and calm might make you sleep better to face the whatever tomorrow holds.

Like the sign says, "Keep Calm and Carry On".

The Sunday Stunner

2009-09-13T23:02:00.010-04:00

So stunning were they that I still look south and see them clearly.

Image by Seth Holladay via Flickr.

Here's What I Wrote About That Day

2009-09-11T11:13:00.005-04:00

On September 11th 2001 my husband and I were living in NYC. Our daughter was just six months old. At the request of some college friends, I put my experiences on and around Sept. 11th on paper to share with others who lived far away. Below is what I wrote a week or so following September 11th. It's been a long, long time since I read this, but it evokes such strong memories and emotions for me. I ask that if you read this you give a moment of silence to Stephen Frazer, a guy I never met but who for me still embodies the sheer magnitude of random, thoughtless, pointless loss that was September 11th.

If you've seen every bit of TV footage, or read 'till you cried, you'll have to indulge one more New Yorker reflecting on the Tuesday, Sept. 11th attack on the World Trade Center.

I didn't turn on the TV until my best friend called. I stared at the screen in disbelief, both Towers already burning. The voice on the phone works just four blocks from the World Trade Center. She was a little frantic, but thankfully she was in her apartment, worried about her colleagues.

"It's gone, it's gone, it's gone". That's all the came out of the television.

My husband arrived home just after the first Tower collapsed. He had left work to go to our daughters' six-month checkup when thousands of people started pouring out of the subways and buses. A stranger told him what happened. Grasping for something normal and planned, we headed to our pediatricians' office next door. On the corner of Second Avenue people were already gathering to look south.

"You can't see it?", I asked.

"Oh yes you can", my husband answered.

Sure enough, an enormous cloud of smoke loomed downtown and was winding its way up Second Avenue. I turned and went to the doctors. The second Tower collapsed while daughter got her shots. Within an hour fighter planes were circling the city. I was never more aware of living between the Empire State Building and the United Nations. The former now once again reigning as the tallest building in NYC.

Meanwhile, at my office on 4th Street and Broadway, co-workers had grabbed binoculars and ran to the roof garden. From a birds' eye view enhanced with state-of-the-art optics, they witnessed a scene of helplessness and horror that I can't even begin to imagine. Two nearly fainted after looking through their lens for only a few moments. Another watched the first tower collapse and wondered if her father made it out, another wondered if her father, brother, and boyfriend did the same. They did.

Now that the frenzy has ended, New York City is just a city in mourning. There will be no miracle rescues on the six-o'clock news. We've all hunkered down for a fall filled with memorials and grim discoveries. All the tip toeing and solemnity has brought a silence to this city so eerie and unnatural I almost yearn for a few more honking horns. Instead I get sirens coming from Ground Zero. The typical New Yorker prides his/herself on being tough, insular and self-sufficient, characteristics that make September 11^th and its aftermath of that much harder to bear. Perhaps that's what God intended. Perhaps our sudden, enormous need for help from any and all who offer make us seem a little more human and a little less "New Yorker" than before.

In the end it's all about a guy named Stephen Frazer and the thousands of others like him. He's young, handsome, in his thirties. Stephen has a wife named Suzan with a 'z' and a child. He worked at AON in World Trade Center. I was introduced to Stephen via many flyers posted in my neighborhood. Scarcely a day goes by that I don't run into Stephen, at the bus stop, pasted to a phone booth or on the hospital wall alongside hundreds of others flyers. Suzan with a 'z' leaves her number and begs you to call if you have any information on her beloved Stephen. The flyer has two color pictures on it; in one Stephan is sitting on a couch in a T-shirt and wire rims, in the other he's feeding his baby. He hasn't bothered to change out of his office clothes, something my husband often forgets too. Looking straight at the camera and wearing no glasses, he's holding a baby spoon and smiling the purest, happiest, goofiest new-dad smile you'll ever see. The baby covered with strained carrots (or perhaps sweet potato) will grow up without a single memory of him, and it will take Suzan a lifetime to explain to that baby just how wonderful his/her father was. One day I'm going to take one of his flyers down and put it in my purse, before someone else takes him down and he's lost again.

Five years ago I worked a few weeks at the World Trade Center. I don't know exactly which floor I worked on, but I know I was high enough up that I could lean my head against the glass and look down at the helicopters flying beneath me. I loved that.

Beware Words that End in "oma"

2009-09-09T16:35:00.005-04:00

I learned a new word yesterday - Eosinophilic Granuloma.

I learned that my six year-old sons back doesn't have an injury like his Dad and I thought, it has a growth. The doctors believe that the name of this growth is Eosinophilic Granuloma.

I learned this growth is benign, and will eventually disappear and the bones impacted by it will heal themselves.

I learned that while New York certainly has its problems, we New Yorkers are pretty damn good at treating the sick. Kevin will be treated by a top Pediatric Orthopedist at the renowned Hospital for Special Surgery. I don't even have to venture into Manhattan with him, there is a satellite office about 20 minutes from my house. To nail down the pathology of this growth, we will head to Sloan Kettering - also world renowned. So while this a big hurdle for us for sure, we are blessed to have the best of the best in their fields working to get my little man through this in tip top shape.

But in the meantime, there will be pain. To relieve this pain, there will be a brace on his back. The brace will be worn for upwards of two years. Picturing my son body surfing on the waves of Atlantic Beach, I still can't get a picture in my head of what exactly this will look like.

In the meantime he is off his feet, no school, no gym, no running, no twisting, no jumping, no
lifting, no going to the Welcome Back Picnic tonight at his elementary school. None of the things that children do with great joy and abandon.

So it turns out that Mom and Dad learned a whole hell of a lot of new stuff this week too.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-08-30T22:41:00.004-04:00

First off, sorry for going dark on y'all. Some end of Summer drama, and some R&R in the Adirondacks had me out of blog land for a week.

The fantastically lovely Wide Open Spaces was once again the launch pad for this week's Sunday Stunner. A week or so ago WOS featured the work of artist Eric Zener. His masterful, nostalgic paintings have me hoping this last week of Summer vacation will bring everyone in my family moments of peace, joy, and zany-ness that will carry us through the cold and rainy stuff to come.

Image - Air, Eric Zenzer

Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it.

2009-08-19T11:28:00.001-04:00

My apologies for being late on my Monday routine of Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it. It's sweltering here in Nassau County, and the Count Jr. suffered a sudden and pretty severe bout of dehydration. Fear not, lots of gatorade, a few cool showers, and time in the AC with his favorite Star Wars DVDs has him back to his old self.

So onto other business!

I love to cook, and am blessed with children who have actually uttered the sentence, "Mussels, yeah!". Their adventurous palates, along with their Father's, makes cooking a joy, since my brood is always game to try something new. Once my search for recipes went beyond mass market internet sites like Martha, Epicurious, and the Food Network, I felt like a house hunter who stumbled onto a cheap, adorable neighborhood. Each blog is a different house; some fancy, some run down, some tacky, some lovely. And in this neighborhood there is one house where all the children gather to play, and that is the house of Lottie & Doof.

My love affair with Lottie & Doof began with an intriguing, adventurous, ridiculously tasty dish called Arroz Verde al Horno. I would urge newcomers to Lottie & Doof to start with this recipe, as it is Lottie & Doof at their best. The ingredient list started a near riot here in Nassau County as Lutheran housewives combed the land in search of the mystical herb Epazote, and there was none to be had.

Tim Mazurek and his partner Bryan are the blood, sweat, and tears behind the Chicago-based blog, and they have done the windy city proud. The blog celebrates the ingredients, vendors, and restaurants that make Chicago such a wonderful place to visit, to live in, and to eat in.

Lottie & Doof does not focus on a particular cuisine or style of cooking, though I will say the man loves him some baked fruit; in a pie, in a muffin, in a crumble, in a cake, in your Uncle Al's shoe, any form will do. I strongly urge you to make the Raspberry Breakfast Bars, which have been used to bribe my daughter into performing tasks ranging from emptying the dishwasher, to practicing her piano, to not assaulting her younger brother.

As looks go, Lottie & Doof is the Herman Miller of food blogs, boasting a spare, clean design totally devoid of extraneous flourishes and advertisements. The photography is bright, clean, and mouth watering.

For a recent beach party, I made all the recipes featured in the May 17th post entitled, "Party Food". The recipes were easy to make, appealing to varying tastes, and great at any temperature. All were a hit, and every drop was eaten.

That's my Buy it, Eat it, Wear it, Love it for the week, the culinary genius of Lottie & Doof.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-08-16T09:22:00.012-04:00

This week's Sunday Stunner comes courtesy of one of the my favorite bloggers, Eddie Ross. Eddie leads a pretty fan-tabulous life. Weekend at Martha's house (yes, The Martha), CHECK. Season on Top Design, CHECK. Styling for all the best magazines; CHECK. And lest we not forget, trip to the flea market with the Countess; CHECK. What's so charming about the full post that accompanies this shot is Eddie's sense of gratitude. I can almost see him flapping his hands with glee during his impromptu flight over San Francisco.

Since the Gold Gate is one of the most photographed sights in SF, I thought I'd get my Flickr on and see how others have captured her. It didn't take me long to find this jaw-dropper courtesy of Patrick Smith Photography.

Enjoy.

Images from Eddie Ross and Patrick Smith's photostream on Flickr.

Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it

2009-08-10T23:30:00.016-04:00

From Memorial Day to Labor Day the Countess puts her hair on a steady diet of sun, sand, salt water, and chlorine. That her hair hasn't fallen out altogether is a testament to her faith in the idea that God believes we all deserve a good hair day now and again, and total devotion to a few reliable products.

While salt water surely takes a toll on the hair, it's actually one hell of a styling tool. Perfectly tousled, wavy "beach hair" is so effortlessly chic it makes you almost fore go rinsing the salt water out, but alas the smattering of sand and seaweed spoils the look. A couple of years ago a stylist handed the Countess a bottle of Surf by Bumble and Bumble. We don't know what's in it, but this bottle is what stands between the hair and a hair dryer. A couple of spritzes of this on clean, wet hair and some strategic scrunching and you're good to go.

The Countess is not a big one for designer shampoos, but conditioners are another story, particularly in the summer. On the bargain side, she slathers on Neutrogena Triple Moisture Daily Deep Conditioner just after coming out of the ocean or pool. Good and cheap.

On the splurge side, there is Tec Italy Metamorfosi Leave-in Cream. Put on clean, wet hair and it leaves it nice and soft without the greasiness of other leave-in products.

Most important also is to wear a hat. The sun beats the jeepers out of your hair just as much as it does on your skin, so cover it. The Countess is old school, so she sports one of these..

The cabanas boys think it's very retro and cool. The Countess is ecstatic she's developed a following with the 17-21 year-olds.

But honestly the biggest way to avoid destroying your hair in the summer is to avoid these..

No, not the bony shoulder, the ponytail. We know, it's so tempting to get your hair off your face with a ponytail. Unless the hair is bone dry and the ponytail is quite loose, there will be significant breakage in your already stressed out hair. None the less, if you still want to get your hair off your face, use a head band or a jaw clip to make a loose twist.

That's the Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it for the week, a few trusty products to get the tresses through the long, hot summers of Nassau County.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-08-09T00:32:00.011-04:00

This is my Sunday Stunner, because for me Heaven will surely have a high tide and a low tide.

Image from Angela's photostream on Flickr.

The Grace of Things Falling Into Place

2009-08-07T07:59:00.022-04:00

Today one of my favorite blogs in the universe, the Blushing Hostess, kicks off a series on grace in everyday living. Since BL was one of my first blogging obsessions, and is single-handedly responsible for my conversion from paper to cloth napkins, I happily signed on when asked to give an example of grace in our lives.

The most graceful gesture of the summer came from my friend Kathleen. In a previous post I had expressed my desire to ramp up our typical book club meeting, usually held at Starbucks. Inspired by Julia Child's book My Life in France, I hatched a plan to ditch Starbucks in favor of a dinner filled with items from Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. But there was problem, every single time I envisioned this lively event, filled with enlightened chatter, laughter, and raised glasses, it was never in my home. My minds eye deemed it worthy of Kathleen's home.

Kathleen and her husband have a home that does not reflex the latest trends or house the status symbols of the moment. The house reflects the lifetime they have spent together traveling and creating. Photos from his years as professional dancer, her paintings, her thrift shop finds, the boldly colored walls meticulously painted by his own hands, and the stunning gardens.

Kathleen is a natural hostess and of course jumped at the book club idea, and planning soon began. Tablescapes, menus, it was all discussed, and all executed with stunning, laid back style. The book club ladies arrived with the promised food and wine. Of course it rained the night of the event, so the gardens went largely unseen, a pity to be sure.

As courses were cleared, wine glasses filled, and topics discussed ranging from France to Julia to summer plans, to the parenting drama of the moment, Kathleen and I found ourselves in the kitchen surveying the happy, candlelit scene.

"Thanks for doing such a great job at bringing my vision to life". I whispered with a wink. Sometimes in your quest to transform the ordinary into the sublime, you need a fearless friend with equal enthusiasm and lots of china, to make it happen.

Book Review - My Life in France

2009-08-06T17:56:00.000-04:00

Summer 2009 could easily be called, "The Summer of Julia". Julia Child is back with a vengeance in theaters, in magazines, and perhaps most importantly in kitchens.

After the heart palpitations subsided upon hearing the news that Meryl Streep would play Julia Child in the upcoming and tres' hyped Julie and Julia, I knew I wanted my book club to read her posthumously published autobiography, My Life in France. It did not disappoint, this was a great book club choice, inspiring lively discussion on many topics ranging from the obvious like cooking and France, to the unexpected "she couldn't pour her soul into a child, so she poured her soul into cooking".

That said, a few personal observations. If you don't care about food, don't read this book. If you can't stand France and the French, don't read this book. If you want a "couldn't put it down" summer read, don't read this book. My Life in France is not a fast read. In fact, I was astonished at just how long it took me to get through this book. Ms. Child has much to say about specific meals she ate in 1968, which serve as amusing little time capsules to be sure, but the density and scope of detail took its toll in terms of pacing. Two pages are spent on a dinner party, while 2 paragraphs are spent on a pivotal scene with her parents.

What is so refreshing about My Life in France is that Julia does not gloss over the sheer amount of labor and time it took to transform herself from an eager American in Paris into a cultural, culinary tour de force that inspired a generation and changed forever the way Americans looked at food and cooking. Ms. Child brings magnificently to life the years of painstaking research and experimentation needed to give her the legendary command of French cuisine. Days and days are spent mastering buerre blanc, weeks spent figuring out how to teach Americans to cook French bread. Those who can't understand her obsession, like some of her American friends and most of her family, are simply left by the side of the road while she continues with her journey. Those who appreciate the joy and seriousness of it, such as her beloved husband Paul and her long time collaborator Simca Beck are lovingly portrayed, flaws and all.

Despite the obvious themes like food and cooking, there is barely a page of this 300+ memoir without her ever loving, ever supportive husband Paul. Julia was a lucky woman to have spent her life with a mate so adoring and supportive, never once does he mock the seriousness with which Julia pursues knowledge, then competency, then mastery of French cooking. For Julia, these were lofty goals indeed considering that she didn't really start cooking until her late thirties.

Many thanks to Julia's nephew Alex Prud'homme, who convinced Julia this was a story worth telling and co-wrote this book. Together they bring readers a vivid portrait of an intelligent, incredibly hard working, eager, obsessed, and ultimately delightful genius.

Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it

2009-08-03T08:10:00.000-04:00

Between the beach, the garden, and a daily walk the Countess spends a good amount of time in the sun. She is well known for her wide brimmed hats and large shades. The Count is of the redish hair and freckled variety. Between his love of surfing and his twice-yearly visits to the dermatologist he has become fanatical about sunscreen, and he too wears a wide brimmed hat on occasion. The Countess sees to it that their universe does not have a purse, beach bag, or glove compartment without sunscreen in it.

But sunscreens are a tricky business for the Countess, particularly when it comes to her face. Many a product has caused itching, others have caused break-outs, still others have given her skin an odd, reflective quality that hearkens to the mirror app. you can download onto your IPhone. After spanning the globe and raiding many a beach bag, the Countess discovered Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturizer SPF 20, Oil Free. Subtle, yet surprisingly effective coverage in an oil-free SPF 20 formula. No more streaky white stuff, no more itching, no more breakouts, no more shiny, no more sunburn.

That's my Buy it, Wear it, Eat it, Love it for the week, Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturizer SPF 20, Oil Free.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-08-02T14:39:00.005-04:00

While the weather in Nassau County was a perfect 10 yesterday, today the rain is back again. Hopefully this week's Sunday Stunner courtesy of the always stunning Wide Open Spaces will remind y'all that tomorrow holds the promise of blue skies and sunshine.

Heaven meets earth via ladyLara.

I'm Mad.

2009-07-31T10:44:00.006-04:00

Today I really want to write about something happy and great, but I'm just too ticked off. I'm sick of dealing with close quarters, sick of dealing with other people's children, sick of enabling parents, sick of humidity.

Both my kids are intelligent, articulate, strong willed little people, which means I occasionally wonder, "how many more days 'till school starts?" I wish she'd smile more, I wish he'd use a fork more, I wish she'd whine less, I wish he'd be calmer. But then they fly cross country without incident, and sail through an eleven day vacation and I think "nailed it!". It never ceases to amaze me how easy some days are and how hard others are.

I think I'll just stare at this picture until I smile, which shouldn't take long.

Storms of All Kinds

2009-07-27T11:27:00.024-04:00

Sunday night, as thunder and lightning roared off the Atlantic Ocean, several cabanas on Atlantic Beach made some thunder and lightning of their own. A group consisting of Conservatives, Liberals, Irish, Italian, and German discussed THE ISSUE. Unless you've been living under a rock all week you know that THE ISSUE is the arrest of Henry Louis Gates Jr., and the subsequent statements by President Obama. Did I mention that included in our discussion were two retired NYC Police Officers and several of their children? Like I said, the storms of the Atlantic had nothing on us.

The policemen of our group felt that quite simply the Cambridge Police and Sgt. Crowley were not out of bounds. One of these men is a dear fellow who has been off the force since the 70's. As a 60-70's era NYC Housing Officer (Police Officers specifically assigned to NYC housing projects) he walked his beat ALONE, with NO portable radio. "You scared the shit outta people or you'd be dead" was his take on personal safety while walking a beat. With the stakes that high, I knew there would be little nuance in his assessment of the situation.

"Why? Because I'm a black man?!!", was Professor Gates first words to Sgt. Crowley and his response to a request for ID. Later he offered to talk to Sgt. Crowley's "mama" outside. Gates berated, threatened, and insulted Sgt. Crowley for doing nothing more than responding to a 911 call. Gates did everything in his power to be a jackass of the highest magnitude. Yet throughout our passionate debate, I found myself unable to place the blame on Prof. Gates. Even as we drove home that night, I couldn't get my mind around the incident or about the varied and passionately held opinions of those with whom I discussed it.

I realized that my problem with Sgt. Crowley is that he took the bait. Maybe it was being accused of racism for simply being present, or maybe it was the "your Mama!" comment, either way at some point this became personal for Sgt. Crowley. Gates was an ass, but Crowley ultimately used his power as a policeman to punish Gates rather than protect and serve. As Randy Cohen of the New York Times put it, "There is no law against Contempt of Cop." Any police officer in this country will tell you that confrontational citizens are no picnic, but they are not criminals. I doubt that Sgt. Crowley would argue that Prof. Gates was a danger to himself, his neighbors, or the officers. The arrest of Prof. Gates was not made to diffuse a tense situation, it was to give a man his comeuppance. Sgt. Crowley and most Americans know that his job is to enforce the law of the land, not the laws of decency and etiquette, which in this case, Professor Gates was sorely lacking.

The Sunday Stunner

2009-07-26T22:15:00.004-04:00

It sort of goes without saying that bloggers read a lot of blogs. I'm always coming across stunning images online, and since Sunday is a day to rest and recharge for the week ahead I am henceforth using Sunday's to post a favorite image from the internet. I hope you'll find these images as inspiring as I do.

I couldn't think of the better way to kick off the Sunday Stunner than this amazing shot by Trey Ratcliff. You can check out more of his work on Flickr.