catskill weekend 2007

Thanks to Global Warming (oops, sorry, I mean "climate change") the weather in late October in the Catskill Mountains was beautiful. It was the peak of Flaming Foliage season and the ride up as well as the ride home was beautiful.
We danced at the Mountain Brauhaus, a Catskill re-creation of an authentic Bavarian Bierhalle complete with traditional dress, accordion polkas and all that is "uber-cheesy" about southern Germany. They also offer a wide selection of the corniest German Alpen music on CD (and cassette--remember those?).
I had a nice, long conversation with the mistress of the manor. She was a German living in Romania when the German Army came and told everyone to bug out before the Russians got there. What followed was a harrowing journey through Hungary, a year-long stint living with a farmer and his family in Ober Austria, then some time spent in Linz in southern Germany and then, finally, in 1955, the emigration to the U.S. Her husband got a job as a welder and after some time, they bought the Crystal Brook and moved to the Catskills. I was hoping for some gems of wisdom from her considering all the trials she had been through and her first hand experiences with the tragedy of war. But although a long conversation makes me feel good about my German ability, the "Gespraech" was tempered by her thinly-veiled anti-Semitism. It was a bit disappointing but, instead of confronting, I gently steered the conversation to a consensus that war is a bummer for everyone and we should really consider not slaughtering each other. She agreed and then added that what is going on in Iraq is pointless and criminal. I whole-heartedly agreed and we ended on a note of unity.
Britt and I left the kids with the grandparents and escaped to Woodstock for the day on Saturday. Woodstock is a cute, little touristy place with shops, beautiful scenery and loads of aging hippies. Sadly, there are no live music venues to speak of in Woodstock. According to Laura who runs a Bob Marley-themed gift shop, the only regular show happens on Sunday nights in Levon Helm's performance space next to his home studio. God Bless You, Levon and, come to think of it, God Bless the Band and Dylan! Their spirits are strong in those ancient hills.
We bought home-made jam and whiled away the afternoon before heading back to Round Top.
Back at the Crystal Brook, we waited patiently for the ringing of the bell (they ring the lunch and dinner bell before the meals to alert the guests--it is just like summer camp--except with a lot more beer).
On Sunday, Stella and I picked apples from the few trees on the property that were exploding with apples. I climbed and shook the branches and Stella gathered the apples and bagged them. Four days later Stella and I made two awesome pies with those apples.

catskill weekend 2007

Dinner time at the Crystal Brook

Mimi is ready to babysit ...

despite their technical difficulties,

aunt lars and uncle laurie made it in time for dinner!

"Us on that rock"---
AKA family portrait in the woods

Kicking up our heels at the Mountain Brauhaus

Sometimes child-raising can become a bit "frustrating". But, before I get too whiny, I need to stop and take a look at these kids. It is nuts--Living with a three-year old is like living with that psycho, college roommate. You know the type, there is ALWAYS drama. The manic times can be exhilarating and life-confirming, the depressed times can be like The Inferno. But, one thing you can bank on--All the emotions are out there, wide-open and unfiltered: "I love you--I hate you--go away--lie with me--sing a song--no, not THAT song" And daddy is still a second-hand citizen. But I am starting to see some chinks in the armor.
Meanwhile, 4 month olds are right up my alley--Its all about physical comforts. Wake up, eat, poop, laugh, fall asleep, repeat. If he is constipated or gassy--bad. If he can poop freely and he burps--good. I totally get it.

Dead Cats ... to tell or not to tell

Our kitty, Zorro, was hit by a car this weekend. Billy had the dubious honor of collecting him off the street and giving him a proper burial. He, Kyra and Angelo took him to the woods. He was a good cat. He was extremely affectionate, a good hunter and he would only eat dog food. Dry dog food. We often thought we got him too soon after Sambou kitty died (see Termite66 movies on Youtube for "Why Can't We Be Friends"). But he soon found his way. Nay, pushed his way, into our hearts. The big question we had was "Will Stella notice he's gone?"; the bigger question was "What should we tell her?". No, she didn't notice, but we told her anyway. Someday another kitty will find his way to us. For now, we're kitty-free. .

You do the wash, I'll make the dinner

So, with 2 children many friends are asking how we are doing, how are we adjusting, etc. I've realized that the biggest issues (for me, anyway. Billy?) are dinner and laundry. My friend Amy said it best: "Laundry will swallow you whole". She warned me and she's right. There are piles of clothes all over our house. Clean clothes, dirty clothes, clothes to hang up, clothes to get rid of. It's just nuts. Amy's a pro--three kids and she still manages to get to work looking lovely every day AND have dinner on the table each night. I, on the other hand, cannot figure out the dinner thing. I'm kind of obsessed with it. I have visions of hearty crock pot meals, frozen leftovers, big Sunday Pot Roast dinners turning into Monday sandwiches. It's like the promised land. Ever-elusive. Tonight we had hot dogs, left-over noodles (whole wheat!) and green beans. Man, I really phoned that one in. Oh yeah, and Oreo cookies for dessert. Nice.