Let Them Eat Cake! The Tale of Thirty

Twenty-nine years ago, I sank my entire face into the corner of an epic cake at my first birthday party. Let's describe this cake...it was most likely some flavor of delicious, but its standout feature was the frosting design. You might want to be sitting for this one. It was layered high in sugary smooth buttercream and covered from corner to sweet corner in, literally, every color of the rainbow. Most parents pick some type of theme for their child's birthday party, like jungle animals or Sesame Street Muppets. I'm guessing my parents' theme had something to do with RAINBOWS! And CLOUDS! And VISUAL OVERSTIMULATION! A huge rainbow splashed its hues across the cake. Plump pastel rosettes were piped around the border. A cotton-ball cloud advertised "Happy 1st Birthday Aliza". It must have been pure joy for the senses as I dove in, sans utensils, for the time honored tradition of slobbering on and grabbing fistfuls of the cake that my parents then lovingly served to our guests.

Now, you realize that a Hall of Fame cake this incredible cannot be retired forever. We agreed, it was time to bring back the champion. The record-setter. The standard by which all insanely decorated cakes are compared. And for no other event than *sigh*.........*sigh again*.....my 30th birthday!

Despite what squinty-eyed disbelieving bartenders who glare at me regularly might insist, I have not, in fact, lied by a decade and a half over on my driver's license. It's simply true. I have hit the big THREE-OH. Instead of celebrating with champagne and caviar (which I eat every night anyway, if not for lunch, as well), we decided to keep humor and color and fun on the table in the form of a to-die-for replica of my first birthday cake, right down to the candle on the cake. Moist chocolate cake, vanilla mousse, and about three feet of buttercream on top. Not just any buttercream, but melt-in-your-mouth primary colors. And pastel, too. As the design was a funhouse of "loud", I closed my eyes, and surrounded by cake-savoring family and friends, took a mouth-watering bite. I couldn't help but smile, thinking how the past thirty years have been a busy and wild ride. And like my cake, life has been a colorful mish-mash of deliciousness. I'm looking forward to discovering even more in life that is colorful and delicious over the next decade with the kind of reckless abandon that makes one dive face first into frosting-topped pastries.

The dive into the first birthday cake...

The thirtieth birthday cake...

Aliza

Bennett Eric | Ten Months

"I would like to get one good photo of him for his first birthday invitations," my sister-in-law, Katie, says to me of her son, Bennett. "Can you bring your camera to Sunday dinner for a couple shots?" My husband's family tries to get together every few Sundays for a nice quiet family dinner. Okay, I can't even keep a straight face on that one! By the time we leave, we are always full with mama's home cooking and thoroughly convinced that nieces and nephews and their boisterous ways silence even the most faint ticking sounds of any biological clocks that dare to be audible to my hubby or me. But for all their noise and energy and excitability, we love all three of them to pieces. The youngest is Bennett, who will be one year old this month. Katie and I decided a mini-shoot of Bennett would be sure to capture a moment worthy of his first birthday party invitations. In Grammie and Grampie's backyard we set him down in the grass for what I assumed would be a relatively easy ten minute session.

Twenty minutes later, I walked back into the house sweating like I had just outrun a pack of hungry wolves. Collapsing onto the couch ready for a nap and some of mama's spaghetti, Bennett was just warming up. The previous twenty minutes consisted of him making it as difficult as possible for his Auntie Leez to do her job. He would sit, I would get set, he'd crawl away. He would smile, I would focus, he would look elsewhere. He would kneel in the grass, I would kneel in the grass, and he would roll over. Always two steps behind him, I ran around to shoot in whichever direction he decided to go. Several times I tucked my camera under my arm, scooped up the baby in the other, waddled over to a plush patch of grass, plopped him down, begged him to stay put, finally got set, and off he went. And, of course, his biggest smiles naturally came when I was in the middle of changing lenses. In the end, I had a lot of "action" shots, but also many that caught the essence of the little man. Bennett is ALL boy...as witnessed below in his tough-guy black eye, the blades of grass he mistook for the salad course before his strained carrots hanging out of his mouth, and the "I dare you to get a sharply-focused photo of me" sassypants look in photo #2. But honestly, the photo shoot-slash-aerobic workout was all worth it to have memories of those striking blue eyes, crinkly nose, and tongue wagging out. He'll be walking and running soon, learning to play baseball with his Uncle Nick and helping to grill burgers with his Uncle Andy, and good luck to me to try to keep up! Yup, it was worth it...black eye, sweat-soaked clothes, and all.

Bennett Eric | Ten Months

Aliza

Mushroom in the Rain

I had an entirely different post in mind to share today after my hiatus from the blog. But sometimes things don’t always go as planned…in business, in art, in life.

When I was very young, my aunt, uncle, and cousins from Colorado came for a visit.

I was at an age where memories of it now play more like random snapshots of moments, rather than a true overview of what really occurred. The funny thing about childhood memories is that while we regard the details we remember as quirky and by chance, we grow to realize that they contain the most honest essence of whatever it is we are recollecting.

The snapshot in my mind from my Colorado family’s visit has always been this: My older cousin Colette hunkered down next to me on the floor of our living room. Sitting on the green shag carpeting, we huddled in close as she read one of my favorite books to me, “Mushroom in the Rain”; a story about various animals who squeeze underneath a mushroom to take shelter from the pouring rain. The animals continue to wonder how any more of them will be able to fit under the mushroom’s cover, until they discover the mushroom’s magical secret about the rain. I especially coveted this book because it was a library book, which meant it had to be returned, and I’d have to hunt it down again to read it in the near future. The image of sitting close to my cousin, admiring her natural warmth and beauty, sensing the bustle and buzz from the other family members, hearing the crack of the book’s spine, and smelling that library book smell as the book fell open hits me every time I think of Colette.

Last summer, Colette decided to make a trip back to see her family in Wisconsin for our wedding. We were thrilled to hear of her plans and especially more so since she had learned the previous year that she would have to battle breast cancer. News like that makes for longer and tighter hugs, and after not seeing her for years, our rehearsal dinner naturally turned into an all out hug fest! Months of highs and lows had us wondering how she would be feeling around dozens of relatives and a high-energy weekend. Looking beautiful in a black dress she boogied down on the dance floor with us, beating the cancer that night, not physically, but with her spirit, vibrant smile, and positive attitude.

That weekend, she pulled my three sisters and me aside to give us each a gift she had made for us. They were necklaces on which hung charms etched with the messages: “Love life. Live life.”, “Follow your heart.”, “Trust in your dreams.”, and “Be Free.” (see photos below). Despite a cancer that would only continue to grow and challenge her body, these were the messages she wanted to ensure remained with us.

This morning I received the news. Colette passed away yesterday morning. 38 years old. Surrounded by her husband and family, she was finally allowed to…be free.

Even though Colette was the one facing this aggressive disease, she was always one to see the glass half full, to give of her heart, and to demonstrate resilience. In a crazy irrational way, her battle with cancer caused our family to be inspired by her unwavering determination to live life fully, to appreciate every random mental snapshot, and to remember to cling tightly together and to shelter each other to weather the worst storms.

Do you know what happens to mushrooms in the rain? They grow.

They also cause whoever is gathered beneath them to stay close, be thankful, humble, and reflective until the sun shines again.

All photos from our wedding rehearsal dinner July 10, 2009. Pictured are my sisters, me (green dress), and cousin Colette (blue shirt & scarf).
Many thanks to A&A Photography for capturing these images...it goes to the heart of why we take pictures at all.

Love and peace finally...xox

Aliza

Friday Thoughts: Up Nort' Wisconsin

Every year my husband's family travels "up nort' Wisconsin" with fifty of our closest family and friends. We rent out the same resort (I use this term verrrry loosely) and bum around for a week. I only took along my little Sony Cybershot point-&-shoot, because, believe it or not, I like to actually just stretch out face down on my pink South Beach Miami towel (talk about a cheap & useful souvenir!) and get my tan on. There's nothing like arriving at this resort (which could be marketed as a "diamond in the rough" or "an antique") after our four-hour drive with full bladders and finding our cottage's toilet sitting in the shower while the owner was crawling around trying to fix the plumbing. Welcome to vacation! At some point in between watching my nine-month old nephew eat half of the beach, mixing up enough bloody marys to quench the thirst of the entire population of a small African country, whacking my 10,000th skeeter, recording an acapella version of "Single Ladies" with my three year old niece on my hubby's iPhone (hours, literally hours of entertainment), building campfires that would make Smokey the Bear quit his job in frustration, having a "tea and crumpets" (read: "cran-apple juice and Cheez-Its") party on the beach with enough children to compose a decent-sized pre-school classroom, making my mother-in-law a salami sandwich so good that when it accidentally dropped in the sand, she shook it off and still ate it, and marveling that the "quaint" and "cozy" cottages have defeated all laws of physics and are still standing...I managed to grab this shot of friends both young, and, um, younger...ahhhh, vacation...nothing like it...

Rhinelander, Wisconsin | August 2010

Aliza

Back Home & Happy Belated Father's Day!

After some time traveling away from home, unplugged, the hubby and I are back home, and plugged back in. In the meantime, we missed your status updates, the DVR filled up with guilty pleasure reality shows, and some really spiky weeds grew in our lawn. We were busy eating the freshest homemade pastas and gelato, strolling through gardens, laughing with improv comedians, cracking lobster claws, and singing "Sweet Caroline" while taking in a game of baseball in the most beloved park, among a zillion other things, in Boston. Can you imagine giving up the pulls of email, blogging, and Facebook for a few days for that? We try to be vacation purists, staying away from most technology, exceptions only for making dinner and/or spa reservations. Going out to Beantown is like going home for me, after living there for four years in college, and I get homesick when I've been away too long. Boston is also the spot for a very special moment in our lives...and I leave you hanging there, unless you already know, but that's a story for another day.

Besides missing the emergence of way too many ginormous weeds in our yard, we were 1,000 miles away on Father's Day...don't worry, we celebrated early! But I wanted to make sure I wished my dad a belated Happy Father's Day with a photo of us on a pretty good day.

Dad and Me

Lots of babies, families, vacation photos, and other fun summery stuff to catch up on...Baby Wesley coming your way next!

Aliza

Happy Mother's Day!

Who would have ever thought that my own mother would be able to receive Mother's Day wishes via a blog post?! Up until recently, she and technology were not well acquainted. Did she have email?, friends would ask. We're still working on convincing her to find the "on" button on the computer, we'd reply. My youngest sisters started training her on computer basics, as the "baby" was off to college last fall, and wouldn't be around to print itineraries and seventeen-times forwarded email jokes from the AARP crowd relatives. "Move the mouse," they'd say. "AAARRRGGHH!!" she'd scream as she jumped on a chair. "Where's a mouse!?" I know she'll read this post and roll her eyes, because she subscribes to my blog (!) and eye rolling is an endearing family trait. But she'll also be proud of me in all my endeavors. So, this post, this space, this time, this technology is dedicated to you, mom! Thank you for all you do, and I'm glad you figured out the techie stuff in order to follow my blog. Happy Mother's Day!

By the way, if you wanted to call and wish my mom a Happy Mother's Day, you might have to try a few times until she picks up. She doesn't have an answering machine.

Mom and Me

Aliza

Through The Door...A Breath of Fresh Air

Ahhhhhhh....the hubby and I just arrived back to reality after a much needed getaway to one of our favorite little niches of the world, Door County. A visit to this area is literally a breath of fresh air. As a little girl, my dad, sisters, and I would venture up to the northern end of the great Wisconsin peninsula for a long weekend of attempting to accomplish all of our traditions: camping, mini golfing, shopping, fish boils, eating Swedish pancakes with lingonberries...and now this slim slice of land continues to provide a rejuvenating retreat as I have grown older. My patient husband waited for me to capture all of the shots I wanted this weekend, and I will share some of my other favorites with you soon. For now, a shot straight out of the camera...a view of Horseshoe Island from Eagle Tower in Peninsula State Park. Inhale. Exhaaaaaaaale.



Aliza

Behold, The Power of The French Fry

Something you should know about me: I am a foodie. I am, according to dictionary.com, a person keenly interested in food, especially in eating or cooking. It is a distinct possibility I will allude to this theme in future posts, because many of my favorite experiences have occurred with wine glasses clanking, marshmallows melting, corn kernels stuck in my teeth, and sumptuous sauces trickling through my fingers and down my arm. It's the simple and delicious things in life that make the best memories...and the best temptations (see those expertly crafted fries below that make all my will-power vanish!).

I was raised in a Jewish family, and anyone who is a careful study of religious history knows that even Noah didn't board the ark until his mother sent him off with a brisket sandwich, some noodle kugel, a bowl of matzah ball soup, and a loaf of challah. There might be a touch of revisionist history in that statement, but, truthfully, we joked in my family that with our mouths full of our lunch, we would fervently discuss what we would eat next for dinner. Every yin has its yang. Every day has its night. My family has its warm, filling, soul-satisfying "nosh". It was ingrained in me to associate feasting with my family...

...but then, I married an Italian.

It was inevitable that my hubby and I would find ourselves on our own savory journey, throughout our own city, and far and abroad when traveling, learning to appreciate delicate and bold flavors, and tasting culture, language, and culinary folklore with every bite.

Tonight's foodie stop: Cafe Hollander
The Deliciousness: Bitterballen, "Westsider" Bloody Mary, Grilled Pesto Chicken Sandwich, Pomme Frites with Indonesian Peanut Sauce and Curry Ketchup...mmm, leftovers!

What deliciousness satisfies the foodie in you?


Aliza

The Games are Over, Eh?

As I sit here watching the Closing Ceremonies for the 2010 Olympic Winter Games, I realize three things:

1. I am really going to miss watching every random winter sport that exists packed into two weeks.

2. I will finally get back to my neglected DVR and all that it has preserved for me, including who's been "auf'd" on Project Runway and all the hoopla surrounding the disastrous male singing on American Idol.

3. There are more Olympians than Lindsey Vonn, Apolo Ohno, and Shaun White?! Who knew?! Thanks NBC for your EXTREMELY in-depth coverage of 3 out of 216 American athletes and 2,629 total.

While I haven't seen this many maple leaves, since...well...October, I haven't tired of every quirky aspect of these red-mittened games, even those P&G commercials thanking moms that made me tear up every time.

At one point in my life, I wanted to be an Olympian myself. A figure skater. Kristi Yamaguchi to be exact. Although my dreams of gold ended with the single toe loop perfected at the peak of my "career", being a Wisconsin girl, other winter sports were always near. My dad and grandparents loved to take us sledding down snowy slopes, and while we were no Jamaican bobsled team, we enjoyed soaring through the wintry powder. Here I am 20-some years ago with my Grandpa Riley, getting ready for our flight, which was always heart-pounding fun....

...until one winter I gracefully soared into a tree and broke my elbow at age 8. Here with broken bone twin Grandma Riley and her sledding-unrelated injury:


*Sigh* No, Olympic gold was never in my future. We'll leave that to the pros...Lindsey Vonn, Apolo Ohno, Shaun White...and oh yeah...those 2,626 other incredible athletes, whatever their names are.

Aliza

It's Always Best to Start at the Beginning

"Once upon a time" begins so many cherished stories. Stories that have a familiar and comfortable predictability about them. A balanced plot line and a tidy resolution. And because of that, "once upon a time" is exactly how I will not start the blog on my photography experience, which has tread its own unique course, far from any art school, dark room, or heavily acronymed convention. I could wait for the elusive right words to kick off this first entry, but just like my decision to dive deeper into my photography without waiting for the perfect moment, it's simply my time to begin sharing my adventure with you!

In the words of one of my childhood heroes, Glinda the Good Witch, “It’s always best to start at the beginning…”. And you can’t argue with a woman waving a glittery wand, and wearing 6,000 yards of pink tulle, so, here goes…welcome to my blog!

To kick off the grand opening ribbon cutting ceremony for my shiny brand new blog, complete with an over-sized pair of imaginary scissors, I thought I would share with you the very beginning of my photography career. It all began at age 8 when my parents bought me a red Kodak point-and-shoot 35 mm camera, complete with a sliding lens cover and a wrist strap. Safety first. My dad, a photo hobbyist, took me out for my first photo shoot around town to try it out. I loaded up one roll of film in that red bad boy and headed out the door!

This is the first photo I ever took, in all of its underexposed un-retouched glory…

…and so began my love affair with freezing moments in time on film. In my photo album, I captioned this one “Dad and the Minivan”. I worked on the wording for days. Between then and now, my dad got a few gray hairs, ditched the beard for a goatee, and upgraded to a Honda Odyssey, and I retired the red Kodak memory maker, moving up eventually to my current Canon digital SLR.

I’m looking forward to sharing my more-accurately-exposed-work, thoughts, moments of brilliance, and progress with you. Even though I literally began my blog with the words “once upon a time”, I hardly expect my story to take that predictable path. It hasn’t yet.

So, here’s to new and unexpected surprises along the journey! Thanks for taking a peek at where it all began.

Aliza