The Second Home

When was it I first thought it would be a good idea to become a landlord? I remember, we were launching our youngest toward his 2nd year at the state university in Trenton, NJ (TCNJ), and I had become disenchanted with the stock market. So, when we sold the big house to downsize to the South, I convinced my husband it would be a great idea to "invest" in a property for our son while he was in college. Then later we could sell it and maybe make a profit. I read about people doing this all over the country in our newly acquired AARP magazine! My husband was trying to placate me since moving wasn't really big on my list of things to do; also, he knew that many musicians end up coming home to live in their parent's basement. So we bought a really cute bi-level home a few blocks from the college. I would kid around with my friends - "Never thought I'd own a vacation home in Trenton," I'd say with a smile. And then stardom reared its ugly head and my son, the full-time rock musician and part-time college student, succumbed to the pleas of his band and the big time label. He dropped out of school.

We sold that cute little house after only one year and did make a tidy profit. But I was on a roll, and started looking for a second home for our daughter and her medical school buddies. Real estate had become an obsession. Really, I should have gotten a license! So while we found and later fired an architect to build our "not so big house" with a view, I scooped up a hundred year old brick home, a foursquare sitting prettily on a dead end street in the middle of town. Within walking or biking distance from the medical school, and two blocks from the pedestrian mall. It's like a little bit of Europe in the Shenandoah valley; swanky restaurants, outdoor cafe's, trendy bars, and tiny boutique shops, gelato, theaters and music joints, and even an ice skating rink. Perfection! Except that this old house needed alot of love. We had to gut the basement and turn its unlivable studio apartment into a one bedroom and completely re-build the upstairs kitchen, it became a money pit from the word go, but I loved it. Because in the back of my mind, this high ceilinged little gem would be our retirement house. Someday, when we could no longer drive, we'd live here!

Why am I writing about second homes? Once my daughter and her friends graduated, we've managed to keep this 2 and a half bedroom house with a cute basement apartment full of graduate students. The rent is very reasonable and I am a non-profit type of landlord - I call it my social services experiment! Because in the middle of all this wedding planning the downstairs tenant is marrying her MD/PhD fiancee and moving upstairs, and a friend of theirs is moving into the basement apartment and there's a leak in the shower, the ice maker doesn't work, and a door won't shut, and....that's what I'm doing now. A friend once told me that owning a second home only means more house to clean. She never told me you'd be running out in the middle of the night to replace all the fire alarm batteries, only to find out that that annoying, repetitive buzz was coming from a beeper in somebody's short white doctor coat!

Just read a good movie review in the Times: "But being both a winner and a mensch is not such an easy task." I believe I'm overdue for a laugh, so Dinner for Schmucks will be on the menu this weekend! I so love Steve Carell. And PS, yes, it is LOL funny!

To Drink or Not to Drink

I now have three pages full of notes about champagne, wine and beer. One of the first things we decided to keep as a DIY project was the booze. This is a great place to save money on your wedding, according to all the periodicals. Alcohol can have quite a mark-up and even if your caterer charges a "corking fee," which is a small sum to uncork and pour, you will still save on the overall cost. Our caterer does not charge a corking fee - thank you L'etoile! We also decided early on, not to offer a bar, open or not. Really, there is no reason to encourage drunkenness, right? And there is no one I can think of in any family that will miss their gin and tonic. It's so Mad Men. In fact, most baby boomers have a few AA members among us! I always tell the joke that my son is half Irish and Jewish, which means he can both drink AND think!

Instead we will offer wine that is made from the grapes in the apple orchard; ancient vines that come from the original Monticello vineyard. My wine consultant tried to talk me into peach wine too, but my husband said, "When did you ever hear anyone ask for another glass of peach wine?" So we're sticking to the usual, Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon; oh and three cases of sparkling wine for the toast. Did you know that most wine drinkers will drink on average 3 glasses of wine per event? The groom and most 20 something males are beer drinkers; they will have the local Starr Hill wheat beer, "the Love," to imbibe. Here is what my wine consultant wanted us to order based on 120 people and 4 glasses per bottle of wine: 2 cases of red; 3 of white and 2 of peach. Because there are usually more white wine drinkers than red! Who knew? Here is what we are going to order: 4 cases of white; no peach; and 2 cases of red. We will still need the sparkling wine for a toast. Oh and a case or two for the rooftop terrace!

After much searching online I found a great site for beverage dispensers. http://www.infusionjars.com/is a site that sells fancy glass jars that will be perfect for holding iced tea and lemonade for all those non-drinkers among us. You don't want plastic or acrylic as it looks too cheap. Also I'd be afraid of all that plastic leeching into the drinks in the heat. And you want real metal spigots, not plastic; as they tend to leak nine times out of ten. This site is all about vodka infused drinks, but rest assured, it will work for non-alcoholic drinks too! You can have anything etched into the glass on the jug, eh jar, absolutely anything! Names, eagles, flags, anything! I decided to have the letter "R" and the letter "S" etched into each of the two dispensers I ordered, that way my daughter can keep one and I will keep one. I don't think she's taking his name - that's a whole other topic altogether - but I still think she'll like the symbolism. They will sit atop little wooden stands, looking altogether rustic and elegant!

Tomorrow night I am cooking for some JAG lawyers who just landed in my town for training. One is the son of a Big Chill couple! I love feeding the young, the hungry and restless; it takes me back to feeding the anatomy crew when my daughter started medical school. And the the next night I'll be taking a cooking course from our Chef Mark of L'etoile about making Hollandaise sauce for the brunch I'll be serving after the wedding...will the mayo break down? Stay tuned!

MOTB

The air is abuzz with Chelsea Clinton's upcoming wedding. Her mother Hillary, the woman I'm not ashamed to say I voted for in the last Presidential election, is our country's ideal Mother-of-the-Bride (MOTB). While traveling around the globe she has managed to keep half of a lid on their secret plans, which include: a Stanford White mansion in Rhinebeck, NY; flowers by the artistic director of the George V hotel in Paris; music by Jimmy Valli, a world class wedding planner from Boston; and a wedding dress by Oscar de la Renta. Nice. Oh, and I believe the guest list is a paltry 400. Maybe I should re-think this whole blog thing? I mean if the Secretary of State can plan her daughter's wedding while dealing with Pakistan, I should not complain about one itsy bitsy thing, right?

I'm only dealing with my daughter, her father, and his Mother and Step-Father (aka the Officiant). The Bride's Grandparents (my in-Laws) were here this weekend for a mini-tastings-redux. We ate a late, hurried dinner at the rehearsal party restaurant straight off the train. There were a few things on the agenda. My Father-in-Law happens to be a retired, some might say lapsed, Baptist Minister who was a widower when he saw my MIL, a feisty and fetching divorcee, across a room. One thing led to another and the minister married the Jewish marriage counselor. Pastoral counseling commenced and now he is a great carver of totem poles. But for six years he was a missionary in Ghana; building roads, wells for fresh water, and by the way, a hospital and church. His son's daughter is our red-headed Flower Girl. Over the years he's married close to a hundred couples and I asked him about their track records, but he laughed and said he doesn't know. I guess that marrying people is akin to being an ER doctor, no follow-up required. The Officiant wanted to see the orchard, the place for the ceremony.

While the Father and Grandfather (Gpa) of the bride toured the orchard and sampled their wine, I took my MIL shopping. We were on a mission to find dresses for the wedding. First we went to the fancy shop, and boy are those saleswomen good! I almost had the tailor pinning and cutting a multiple hundred dollar concoction, but luckily I came to my senses and said I'd have to think about it. The dress had a peplum. What woman with hips in her right mind would buy such a dress? My MIL, who we all call Gma, I found out is very opinionated. Gma would shake her head no with each new offering - "It's not elegant enough," "You have too much style," "We can do better." And then we were off to Chico's. This is her go-to spot for clothes. But she was not in luck and we were pooped. Day one, orchard tour = 1, wedding dresses = 0. But I did manage to put together a salmon dinner with my husband's freshly picked garden produce.

The next day we spent the morning weather-proofing the new deck furniture. Gma is a real trooper. Together, in ninety plus degree heat and clad only in our underwear and latex gloves, we treated that eco-friendly eucalyptus wood to a nice rub-down. After lunch, we ventured out again hunting for a dress, or two. Without a Nordstrom in sight, we found Belk to be less than exciting. Meanwhile, the men put the finishing touches on our totem pole. Gpa carved it especially for us twenty years ago. It has meaningful family symbols running down its trunk. But my favorite bird, the cardinal, which had proudly spread its wings atop the pole, had been absent for repairs. The final crowning, complete with new termite-less wings, was a joyful affair. I love to keep projects waiting around the house for them to tackle on their visits. They make quite an amazing pair in their 80's, not afraid to roll up their sleeves and get it done. Gma once told me she is a "pot stirrer." Of course she uses the Yiddish word to mean she's always busy. I'm always a little sorry to see them go on the Amtrak express back to NJ.

Her parting words to me? "Go to Nordstroms."

Blond Ambition

"This is a good time to stand back from your life a little and take stock of where you have been and where you intend to go in the future. And remember: no matter what some people might say ambition is not a dirty word." That is my horoscope from the New York Post. I've never looked online for my horoscope before, it's usually something I'd glance at while reading a magazine or a newspaper. Our family has fun translating horoscopes from the French while on vacation. Today there were many exact replicas of something like, "...it's a good day to visit an art museum." Of course, any day is a good day to visit a museum. But I like the Post's bold move to tell me it's OK to be ambitious. When I had to think about what attracted me to my husband, which happens alot lately, his ambition and drive were certainly right up there. That and his smell of clean, sun-dried laundry.

I'm taking stock of our Wedding Weekend of Tastings Galore. The Couple arrived very late Friday and we stayed up later still. My daughter looked radiant, and her groom I discovered, was going to be on my side. Oh Happy Day! I knew I liked this guy. How did it happen that at one point, while sitting out on the deck surrounded by yummy breakfast treats, I envisioned myself in a graphic novel (aka comic book)? The mountains loomed brilliantly in the distance, the dogs grazed happily for crumbs, cinnamon buns and biscuits melted sweetly in the sun. We were talking about photography, and the bride wasn't there at the moment. I inquired what his parents might want in the form of family pictures. He nodded his agreement, of course they would want some shots of the whole clan - some were traveling from Hawaii! Ah yes, this was a point on which we could agree. This incredibly fantastic journalistic photographer, just may have to ask for some group shots...

The sculptor Calder I believe once asked if you were only allowed to take one thing out of a burning house, would it be the cat, or artwork? I would take the pictures, and the dog. But really our dogs would probably be the first ones out on their own eight paws! Pictures are the landscape of my life, my heirlooms. They document the family that I lost, and the foster family I was given. I only have three pictures of my biological father, who died when I was seven months old. I have a picture of my mother lying on a couch, her broken legs straight out under her, but looking beautiful nonetheless. I am a toddler, with blond curls standing on her lap. I am a toddler in the only picture I have of me with all my siblings together, at my father's funeral. My older sister is towering above us, foreshadowing her place as the keeper of memories.

And this is when the discussion begins, when to take the group shots? Should we hold a cocktail hour, or not; to serve a signature cocktail, or not? What the Couple was trying to avoid on their day, was the obvious separation of the wheat from the chaff, the bridal "party" and significant others from the less significant. They had been to a number of weddings where that is the case - one person is significant, and the other sits alone. I understood. But I had to be ambitious, and indeed I let it be known that at some point on this day, my family, including the step-family we acquired when my mother remarried, should have a portrait done. I stood my ground. In trying to accommodate my bride, I was doing my best to make her wishes come true, and we were having a wonderful time: Anita Gupta's margarita cupcakes for breakfast; strolling through the rooftop terrace on the downtown mall; shrimp and grits at L'etoile with a Big Chill couple, who happened to be visiting that weekend. One little family portrait, was it too much to ask? We all decided to make the "cocktail hour" before the ceremony, rather than immediately after. It would be more ice tea and cider, and less signature cocktail.

And finally, Jack Looney settled the matter. He knew just how to approach the dilemma, what to say to get the right people together, and he has an assistant photographer, so there will be two shooters on the Big Day. All 's well that ends well, when you choose the right photographer.

As overheard on NPR - which is the real wedding news story?
1) Lawyers are now a part of more wedding parties because more couples are getting pre-nups,
2) Since it sometimes takes 20-30 minutes getting in and out of wedding gowns, they are now making fancy crystal encrusted diapers for brides.
3) There is a new service called "Lemon Events." Instead of waiting for something bad to happen at your wedding, you can hire these people to arrange it! One groom sat on a whoopee cushion and after a pause, the bride sang "You are the Wind Beneath my Wings."

It's Official

The couple updated their status on Facebook; they are now officially "Engaged" and not just "In a Relationship." This was one of the things they did on a rare day off together over the July Fourth weekend. They managed to move everything back into their newly re-built basement, and they also took their two dogs, and another dog they are pet-sitting, to a river to swim. Then they came home and made turkey barbecue for a gang of resident friends. That's after working the first three days of the weekend. That's what they did on their one day off together. It's exhausting being them.

We cleaned the house and cooked for an army which turned out to be only nine people for dinner on the Fourth. My husband manned the grill and of course for our cook-out we ate inside, since we are seeing triple digit temperatures now. Just after sunup that morning we hiked up the hill to Monticello to hear Tracy Ullman speak at the Naturalization Ceremony. She was engaging, funny and sentimental. She came from a small industrial town in the UK and thought we Americans had so much - so many cars, washing machines, food. But what she really loved was how much "confidence" we have. Her father was sick of paying for the Queen, and he knew that unlike any other European country, he had a real chance to better himself in America. We Americans could do or say anything we thought; whereas if your grandfather was a shoemaker in the UK, that was what was expected of you. And we, of course, have her to thank for the Simpsons! That got a big roar out of the crowd.

Our newest 71 citizens came from so many countries, including Afghanistan, Canada, Uzbekistan, China and Ghana. Most came from India. I thought about how my Grandmother was not allowed to vote even after women got the vote, because she was married to an alien (an Irishman). Times have changed. And as I thought about my own Mother, who would be 101 today if she still lived. A woman who would not willingly release her baby for adoption, but allowed her best friends to raise her. A woman who was a flapper and loved to dance; she insisted on paying for my ballet lessons. A woman who never gave up and fought with such strength to walk again after the car accident broke her legs beyond recognition. She was my first teacher in determination. It was my Mother who would point out the humor in life, always seeing the good side.

Chris Matthews said at The Miller Center last year that, "...only in America could a guy named Archibald Leach, who worked as a stilt walker on Coney Island for five dollars a day, ten on weekends, move to California and become Cary Grant." Patriotism is a noble thing, but it can be tricky. How much of our freedom are we willing to lose in order to maintain our security? It is unfortunate that the Supreme Court has become so political, because like marriage, a democracy needs balance. Obama has said that he'd like to have a country that unites people, that doesn't divide them. And that is my wish for the soon-to-be married Couple.

You don't need to have a lot in common to get married today; you don't need your parents blessing or a dowry of eight goats. In fact, in this state all you need is a driver's license! I think you need some maturity, and the capacity for happiness (thank you Mr Jefferson) and the willingness to unite as a family within a community. I've seen the groom so delighted and happy at my daughter's success, either in yet another mind-boggling residency test or tricky hospital situation, that she falls into his arms, smiling and grateful. He does not judge her, nor does he compete with her. He is a tall man with a delightful wit, supremely supportive and confident in his own strengths. I'm starting to think about what I will say at the Toast, because nowadays moms get to toast the Couple at their wedding too. Yes, confidence! It's a marriage builder.

Summertime

It's a glorious summer day. The heat and humidity are gone and it's crystal clear and 70 degrees this morning. The mountains look like hard grey/blue slate lines against a Tiffany/blue sky. It's a day full of possibilities. Perhaps the turtle will escape my old dog's snout and the beetles will stop eating my roses? We are T minus two months to a wedding.

Today she is a Third Year Resident. I cannot explain in words how much pride I'm feeling today! My Catholic school upbringing kicks in and it feels sinful, but I don't care. I'm so proud of her. My daughter is now at the pinnacle of all those years in school and training; you will find her largely in charge of the ER shifts and mostly instructing the new interns. When she was in nursery school, I gave her a Native American name - "Girl Who Stands With Hands on Hips." From the beginning, she liked to give direction. My beautiful girl is in her element; like a ballet, she will be choreographing much of the activity in her very busy ER. It's funny because I don't think she wears anything different, no outward sign to the patients and staff of her new status, her last year in training. No pin on her long white coat. My daughter, the bride-to-be will still dress in blue scrubs, with her "Love Child" tee shirt underneath, and her cordovan/blood colored clogs. She found that any other color would invariably show the usual red trauma stains. And she'll pull her hair back into a ponytail, pop in her new contact lenses, walk into the Nurse's station and give Magnolia a big hug hello. She's a "macher," the big Kahuna. It's like being in 8th grade finally.

The flooded basement has been rehabbed and is being painted. We joked about how much room she'll have once it's finished. The dogs will be able to use the doggie door, the exercise bike can be plugged back in and we'll see if it still runs. Did I tell you this Nashville flood was the second time the water rose to meet her? She was in 7th grade when the December 11th No Name storm hit; it happened so fast they didn't have time to name it. We were living on the Jersey Shore right off a tributary of the Shrewsbury River, three miles from the sea. The tide and the moon were aligned and no one saw it coming, waves of brackish sea water hitting our house and taking our cars. It was the 100 year storm our realtor had told us about, like it would never happen in our lifetime. And we just happened to be in Vegas baby, at a conference. The kids were home, with a babysitter who thought they should go to school that morning.

My daughter caught the whole thing on camera, she filmed the flood and you could tell, even at 12, she had more sense than a certain sitter. She helped her brother find Wiley Coyote and put the dogs in the laundry room with a week's worth of food. My handsome, tall son who was 7 years old at the time, never let Wiley out of his sight for a year after that. An ER nurse/friend rescued them with her firefighter husband. It took us three days to get home because Newark was shut down. And the funny thing is, her residency director is sending her to an American College of Emergency Physicians (ACEP) conference in Vegas right after her honeymoon. I think we should meet her there, and reclaim that trip we lost so long ago. Go to a rodeo, see a big show. Cirque du Soleil? I wonder if Bette Midler is still there? J'adore Ms "M" but I hate gambling, I usually make my $20 donation. I wish they didn't Disney-up Vegas but I'm fully prepared to let what happens there, happen.

Next week the Couple will arrive for a Tastings Weekend. They are flying in very late Friday night and here is the itinerary:
Sat - Early City Farmer's Market
9:30 am - Anita Gupta cupcake tasting
Lunch on mall and walk thru 2nd Street and rooftop terrace
4:30 pm - walk thru Carter mountain with Shawn Cosette / tent, music, ceremony
7:00 pm Dinner and tastings at L'etoile
Sun - Noon meeting with Jack Looney Photographer

I also adore all my vendors! Things are looking up and floods are behind us. It's all coming together. Oh, and if you'd like to support Nashville flood relief by buying a tee shirt, here's the link: www.nashvillefloodtees.com