We’re making more room for celebrating. There’s enough going on in the world that needs little reminding of how cruel it can be. So we’re having moments to toast to good times, blow out candles, dance here and there, and laugh. Laugh so hard that …
During a recent visit to New York City, we stayed at the 122-year old Algonquin Hotel. We’ve stayed at the hotel once before, however, this time, the hotel revealed its historical past through the Blue Bar menu and a chance meeting with Hamlet, the cat.
As we sat at one of the tables in the Blue Bar, I imagined how this place must have been in years gone by. It apparently was the spot where artists , writers, musicians and other creative people hung out. I felt comfortable writing, thinking and sipping on a drink which had been conjured-up over a century ago.
As I walked out of the elevator, I bumped into the current Hamlet as he walked around his splendid residence. He was accompanied by his caretaker who introduced us and shared his interesting history. What a delight!
Cheers to The Algonquin! Cheers to your lively and colorful past. And cheers to Hamlet the Cat who is the 12th generation of the Expert-in-residence!
I am not an optimist. When I tell folks that, they rarely believe me. Surely, you jest. But, but, but you’re so happy… I’ve always armored myself with a fair amount of pragmatism and pessimism, steeling myself as much as one can for the other …
“Nature, time, and patience are three great physicians.” – Henry George Bohn On a recent evening, I had the pleasure of going to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. I always forget what makes me come back, time and time again. I have been a member for …
When I was a kid, there was no shortage of new Easter dresses, patent leather Mary Janes with short white socks, and frilly bonnets to mark the holiday. Think pastel pink, yellow, and green linen with delicately embroidered details.
Oh, and there were Easter speeches, the products of hours of memorizing and practicing, that we recited nervously in front of the entire congregation. Improbably, it always seemed like there were a million pairs of eyes on us as we recited the special words slowly as we got our bearings, then quickly to avoid forgetting, and finally a mishmash until that moment of relief when we finished. Thank goodness I hadn’t forgotten!
Invariably, some kids did. As you sat sweating in the pews until it was your turn, you wondered why we did it. In retrospect, I’m convinced that in addition to celebrating the holiday, we were being elevated: a bunch of Black children in their finery standing both sheepishly and proudly in the spotlight reciting poetry and prose. If we could do that, what couldn’t we do?
There were giant baskets laden with solid (great) or hollow (disappointing) chocolate bunnies, marshmallowy peeps, art supplies, stuffed animals, and piles of candy. Over the years, these treats went from resting on a bed of plastic to paper grass. The Easter Bunny went green like the rest of us.
As the Reverend’s first grandchild, Easter meant dyeing hundreds of eggs with my Grandmama. Even though there were mounds, that didn’t stop me from slapping on those tiny stickers or drawing squiggles with waxy crayons.
Searching for those eggs was never my thing. Eating them, however, was.
Happy Easter!
Extra, eggstra!
It turns out that this year’s color is peach fuzz. We at ODB have always liked this range of colors- peach, salmon, rose, blush… You can see it throughout our website. Unlike oranges, peaches come in a rainbow of flavors. What’s your favorite? Everything’s been …
I’ve come to realize that it’s almost impossible for me the let holidays go by and not celebrate in some form or fashion. My heart beats a little faster when considering what to do for fun. Although I don’t know my family connections with Ireland, …
I went to the Emerald Isle fifteen years ago and had the time of my life. From tasty Irish salmon, lamb, and every kind of potato dish to stone circles, castles, and peat.
We started in Dublin and spent a couple of weeks exploring seaside towns, green mountains, and beautiful estates where we slept soundly as sheep bleated here and there. Miles and miles of Erica (or pink and purple heather) everywhere we looked.
Each visit to New York has always included popping into a sweet shop for a little bit of chocolate, pastry or cookie. So much so that I’ve contemplated writing a little black book on sweets alone in NYC. Some desserts trend so much that there …
