Heart-Shaped Pizza and Just Being There

One day out of the year, chocolate, flowers, and jewelry are our nationally recognized symbols of romance and love. But my hubby and I have been different since the beginning. Neither of us were ever huge fans of reserving romance for one particularly dictated day, nor were we big fans of the usual spoils of February 14th. Instead, we decided to celebrate in our own way. The steakhouse dinner? Nah. A dozen red roses? Nah. My husband's staged living room performance of "Truly Madly Deeply"? Nah. Recreating some of our favorite dishes from our Indonesian honeymoon for dinner? YES, PLEASE! But that's just us. Seeing images friends have posted throughout the day...heart-shaped pizzas, pink pancakes, dancing to favorite songs with sweet babies, great seats at a basketball game, pink tutus, naked babies covered in cake, and scanned photos from decades ago...make me smile...everyone does V Day their own way. One friend mentioned that just returning home to see her very-busy-always-on-call-doctor husband there unexpectedly for the evening was a gift all in itself. Just like her, I hope you and your valentines (spouses, boyfriends/girlfriends, children, best friends) spend time appreciating every little moment that adds up to this crazy good life. Although, I could go for an impromptu living room a capella rendition of Hall and Oates' "You Make My Dreams"...or "Maneater"...hmmm...something to think about for next year.

My valentine and me on our honeymoon!
Bali, Indonesia

Aliza

It's An Anniversary Today!

Get a cake! Light some candles! Sing a song!

It's my one year anniversary today!

With my blog.

Photo courtesy of Getty Images

One year ago, exactly, I shared my first post, which actually took weeks to compose. I wanted no less than total satisfaction with every aspect of the post; the beginning of a journaling experience just as much for my readers, as it is a record for me. Thank you to all of you who follow along and check back regularly! Without you, I'd pretty much just be talking to myself, and I do a fair amount of that anyway without blogging, so I appreciate you taking the time to stop by, and for sharing my words and photos with others.

One year in the books, and I'm only getting started.

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: Happy Birthday to My French Fry

Have you ever been out to eat when your grilled chicken sandwich basket arrives at your table, you squirt ketchup in the corner of the wax paper and begin dipping your hot-outta-the-grease french fries into the vinegary red goodness, when all of a sudden you grab the end of one fry and keep pulling only to realize that you have most definitely snagged the world's longest french fry? You stop to admire it. Point it out to all of your fellow diners. Observe it from all angles. Hold it up a little too high in the air so that if your waitress passes by and sees it you can mentally high-five her for slipping you this record setting potato stick. You definitely don't eat it right away, because this fry is unique. This fry made your day. This fry put a smile on your face. I suppose it's only fitting that this quirky anecdote comes to mind when I think about my husband. He's the most unique, day-making, smile-inducing "french fry" I've ever met. I like that in a person I love, so, naturally, I married him. And Friday is his birthday! Join me in making a special wish for him today. Happy birthday, hubby! You're the cheese to my macaroni, the frosting on the cake, the cherry on top, and the incredible french fry with my grilled chicken basket!



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

Wings on Their Feet and Victory in Their Hearts

Today's photos are shared with you not because of their stunning quality, their sharpness, their composition, or prize-winning potential. Clearly, they lack all of that, but I put these types of photos in a category all their own. These are the kinds of photos your great-grandma or five year old niece took...the kind that are over-and-underexposed, blurry, and unintentionally show more of the sky than the people mugging for the shot. These are the kinds of photos that endure and are cherished because of the story behind them. We all have them. And because the stories and the memories themselves transcend the amateur images that illustrate them, we share them.

During my college years, I lived in the great city of Boston. I admired it for all it had to offer: the arts, history, diversity of people and foods, world-class everything. Although I live far from Boston today, I look back on those years and sift through the memories, and a favorite always stands out...Patriots Day and the running of the Boston Marathon. Today was that day for the 114th time in Beantown!


The route of the Boston Marathon snaked it's way through my Back Bay neighborhood. I stood on the sidelines cheering the weary runners on, as they toiled through the last leg of their journey. My house stood alongside one of the very last miles of the race, and so I watched the raw determination of blistered, bleeding, sweating, delirious athletes making their way to the finish line. Above is the men's 2003 winner, Robert Cheruiyot of Kenya, as he flew past me on his way to victory.


Above is Svetlana Zakharova of Russia, the women's 2003 winner. At the moment I captured her, she was literally flying. Both feet off the ground. Her shadow racing to catch up. Honing in on the win.


And with more guts, talent, athleticism, and determination than I'll ever have, Ernst Van Dyk of South Africa lowers his head, grasps the spinning tires of his wheelchair and zooms toward triumph.


The sun sank lower in the sky, its rays bouncing off the Hancock building and the Prudential. Fenway Park sat calmly and stoically in the near distance as hundreds of feet pounded over the bridge into Kenmore Square. I am so thankful to have these photos, blurriness and all, because they remind me that a moment in history was captured and displayed in my dusty college photo album, and that, in a city brimming with legacy, I was there to experience history in the making.


Aliza

Burgers, Brats, Beer...and BASEBALL!

For some,
Spring
means
tulips and daffodils reaching toward the sky
orange-bellied robins pecking for juicy worms
rumbles of thunder and fat drops of rain
new leaves peeking out of the tips of tree branches
early glasses of lemonade and ales in the backyard
pumping up bicycle tires
children chasing soccer balls and toy trucks down the sidewalk
neighbors waving across fence lines
palmfuls of delicate seeds spread across plots of dirt
and
pushing up long-sleeves and long-shut windows,
but for us,
Spring
means
igniting the grill
singed brats bubbling and bursting in their casings
melted cheddar dripping over burgers' curled sides
bean bag toss and comfy lawn chairs
early glasses of lemonade and ales in the parking lot
peanut shells and baseball bats cracking sharply
racing sausages kicking up backstop dust
polka, pitches, and Prince
9 innings, 54 outs
and
sunshine streaming through the open rooftop.

Spring hasn't truly arrived
until we hear the official Opening Day words,

"Plaaaaay baaaaaaaall!"

Happy return of Spring and Baseball!
I hope your Opening Day was as filled with sunshine, good food, and good friends as ours was. The boys of summer are back!

Aliza

Friday Thoughts: Epic Beards and Fish Meatballs

The weekend starts early this week, not only because it reached 80 degrees today in our city, which could still very easily be buried under ten feet of snow at this time of year, but because it's finally time for the hubby and me to spend time in one of our favorite places. Photos from this haven will appear in a post next week...we'll keep you guessing until then.

This week also brought our families together for one of my favorite holidays, Passover. It's a holiday during which you can recline at the table, drink four full glasses of wine, and watch the tanned and muscled greatness that is Charleton Heston's portrayal of Moses in "The Ten Commandments". His beard is seriously epic at the end of that movie. Santa and ZZ Top ain't got nothin' on desert-wandering Moses. After celebrating a holiday for decades, many quirky traditions emerge. My dad and I compete to see who can eat more horseradish slathered on matzah without crying, we all dare each other to eat the gefilte fish (essentially a cold fish meatball...ugh), and...it always goes back to Mr. Heston...we marvel at the special effects of the Red Sea parting, the Nile turning to blood, and how they got Yul Brynner's bald head so shiny and smooth! Seriously. Is it turtle wax? Olive oil? Questions for the ages.

While I head off to breathe in some fresh spring air with the hubs, I'm sure many more holiday memories will come to mind. In the meantime, a quick *happydance* for my friends MJ & J on the birth of their new baby boy this week, who will most likely to be found at the other end of my camera within a couple weeks and shared here! Ooooh, how I love brand new bundles! Happy weekend!

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