All I can do

I am embarrassed by the comforts of my life. There is so much horror and violence in our world, and I watch it all from the comfort of my home, my family intact. It struck me this morning that many of us share this blessing - we might be concerned about the terror in our world, but we revert to our everyday lives and pray it won't happen to us, directly. The whole thing is so frustrating to me, that I decided to write a poem about it....because that's about all I can do.

A White Robe

December 4, 2015

In the mornings

I don a robe;

White, soft, thick,

a cloud on my shoulders.

Down the stairs

Click on the news

Stopped by images-

Enthralled by violence-

Feed the cat.

An infant saved from icy waters

On the run before she can walk-

Brew the coffee.

People’s screams, fleeing

From a movie theater-

Open the shades.

Troops in our streets – our streets-

Keeping the peace-

Make the oatmeal.

Weapons of mass destruction

Mass destruction by weapons -

Tighten the belt on my robe.

Instinctively

Sheltered by ignorance.

Comforted by apathy.

Protected by white

By the softness of a cloud.

On the road with SueBob, day 5: food and glass.

If you know me and Mitch even a little, you know we are foodies. Mitch has a photographic memory of every meal he has ever eaten. He can tell you where we ate and what he ordered in St Marten back in 1987 when we were on our honeymoon. 

On Wednesday, we had to say goodbye to our hosts at The Inn on the Main, Jaynee and Guy. As a farewell tribute to them, let me spend some time here telling you about the breakfasts we enjoyed. Day one started with a grilled peach with marscapone cheese. Clearly this couple was setting the stage for an impressive show. The main course (yep, this breakfast has courses) was a summer vegetable frittata. When served a savory main course, a guest should finish with a sweet treat, according to Jaynee, so we had pear cake with an apple cider reduction. 

The next day began with a fruit plate, dusted with powdered sugar and garnished with fresh mint. The main course was blueberry French toast stuffed with lemon creme fraiche. Yea, it was good. By day three, you would think it would be getting difficult for these chefs to jump over the bar they had set. But they opened with a parfait of yogurt, granola, and fruit, and followed it up with a spinach and cheese strata. Ah, yes, that's a savory main course, so let's finish you off with a fruits of the forest strudel. 

Like all good things, this visit must come to an end. On our last morning, we jinxed ourselves by siting at a different table, and you will never in a thousand years guess what was served. A gorgeous presentation of fresh pineapple. Now, everyone else was pleased with this appearance from the tropics....except Mitch. Pineapple is one of literally two foods he will not eat (the other being coconut - apparently he had a traumatic experience in a tropical locale in his previous life). His spirits were lifted minutes later when they presented our main course of macadamia French toast.

I truly cannot say enough about the outstanding food at Inn on the Main. In addition to the breakfasts, there was always a homemade baked good waiting for us when we returned in the evening: peanut butter balls, cranberry bars, chocolate walnut cookies, fudge brownies, Oreo truffles. 

Overall, the Inn on the Main gets five gold stars from all of us. Meticulously neat, beautiful bedding, all the thoughtful details - chocolates in the room, coffee right outside our bedrooms, local menus and maps. Guy and Jaynee are truly gracious hosts and made us feel right at home in Canandaigua.

How does anyone transition to another hotel after this experience? At the Corning Glass Museum of course. I will readily admit I thought it was some strange that everyone kept telling us this museum of glass was a not to miss item on this tour of the Finger Lakes, but they were all spot on. Glass as art in one section, where Sue and I kept nearly walking into walls because the enormous all-white space was  one big optical illusion. This was followed by a demonstration of a gaffer sculpting and blowing glass, taking a ball of lava and turning it into a gorgeous blue vase. Glass as science. Engineering. Physics. Chemistry. The complete history of glass, through time and cultures. It's all here, in the Corning Museum of Glass. 

Totally cultural and educational, but don't worry, we didn't stray too far from our roots. We made it to a winery before five, just in time for its last tasting of the day.

On the Road with SueBob, Day 4: You can indeed drink too much beer.

There is no typo in today's headline. I have heard people say over in over in life, "you can never drink TOO much beer." Apparently, those people have never been to the Finger Lakes.

In honor of Bob's birthday, we went on a brewery tasting tour with Crush Wine and Beer Tours. Our driver, Gary, picked us up in a minibus wrapped in images of nature. Little did we know that he was Bacchus wearing shorts and a polo shirt.

Our first stop was the Naked Dove brewery, which in restropect should have indicated we were starting on a twisted religious journey. Here's how a beer tasting works: there's a wide range of brews to choose from, you choose one which is served to you in a mini glass, and the Brewer talks at you about  IBUs and ABVs while you nod and smile. I remember that the Brewer at Naked Dove was impressed by Bob's beer knowledge, although she trumped him with the background on the growler and the grumbler (these are jugs, I still don't understand why we have to call them anything special).

Enroute to this first stop, I predicted that our quiet ride would build to a crescendo later in the day, and the short ride to the second stop already indicated a higher level of NBC (nonsense bus chatter, measured in units of language per minute). 

Our second stop was at Three Huskies Brewery, which is located in the back of a pub called Dubbers. No, I'm not making this up. It turns out that Dubbers serves a great lunch, at least that was our impression after having another flight of beer tastings. Kudos to this brewery for cleverness - everything is dog themed. I'm pretty sure my favorite here was Barktoberfest, for obvious reasons besides the medium Amber color with a spicy nose and a hint of vanilla to finish. Again, I'm not making this up. Brewers take their beer this seriously. Just smile and nod.

Prior to boarding the bus, Gary informs us we have a 45 minute ride to our next stop in Honeoye (again no typo here). Mitch makes no apologies for immediately closing his eyes and falling asleep. It's a fairly quiet ride, low NBC, which I attribute to the fermentation process of the equivalent of four beers in a short period of time.

Sound the trumpets, our carriage has arrived at CB Brewery, a grand operation that primarily brews for restaurants and private label operations. This is home to the king of brewers who has a lot to teach us about our beer. It turns out we are oversimplifying IBUs and ABVs, not taking into account the malt factor. Luckily, we get six tastings here, so we have plenty of time to experiment. I'm intrigued by something called barley wine, mostly because I'm pretty sure it's the liquor of choice of Tess Durbeyfield's irascible father. (Please excuse the obscure literary reference, but I know Dawn Theriault and Marty Bressler have been reading these blogs, so shout out to my triad!)

Bob has decided to buy some of this microbrew, which gives Mitch the idea that they need roadies. In his world, BGE circa 1965, a roadie is defined as a beer to drink while in a vehicle. Much to the King Brewer's delight, he is able to conjure up a couple of cold ones for these two to imbibe. Sue and I wisely decide to move to the back seat together, allowing Bob and Mitch to have immediate proximity to their new best buddy, Gary the driver. The NBC (needless bus chatter) is at an all-time high on the next leg of our journey.

Our last stop is at VB Brewery in Victor. The Brewer here is apparently a scientist, as he tries to explain how all the IBUs, ABVs, and SMRs (color measurement....I think) are actually determined. About the time he said alpha-red beam, I assumed the position of nodding and smiling and thinking about dinner. Mitch absolutely adored the first beer he tasted, which was on a nitro tap, and just kept tasting that one over and over. Bob also loved this beer. We developed our own quality label of CTG (closest to Guinness), and deemed this one the winner. I cannot guarantee our judgement, as it came on our last stop of the day.

Gary finally pulled up to The Inn on the Main and poured us out onto the front lawn. None of us dared to sit down, afraid we would fall asleep. So, like any good, red-blooded American who knows how to live in excess, we went out for dinner. To a German restaurant. Was there really any other choice? We had enough beer in our veins at that point to make us pass a naturalization test in Germany.

And so, we ate schnitzel, and the guys had another beer, which was probably a mistake. And we returned to the Inn and ate the homemade peanut butter balls that our innkeeper left out for us. Probably another mistake. We all admit today to having to sleep sitting up, but hey, it's vacation. A little midweek overindulgence should teach us to reign it in for the second half of the week. We'll see how that theory develops.

On the Road with SueBob, Day 3: Indulgences

Monday brought a beautiful sunny day that definitely felt like Fall. We began our day by walking through a tree-lined street of breathtaking homes, older homes that have been coddled into this century. The road ends at Sonnennberg Gardens and Mansion State Park, where you can meander through 52 acres of property once owned by William Ferris and Mary Clark Thompson. We had no idea who this New York-famous couple was, but one of the many doycens explained that Mary was the daughter of a Governor, and grew up in Canandaigua. William Ferris founded First Bank....aka Citibank. The couple's primary residence is the 1100 block on Park Avenue in Manhattan. Sonnennberg was their summer farmhouse....I'm sure you're getting the picture here. The home and the gardens illuminate a life of grandeur, in a place where this famous couple indulged their love of family, travel, and flowers.

Looking at other people's lives is exhausting, so we returned to the cocoon of our bed and breakfast. We set up camp on the front porch with cheese, crackers, olives, apples, cashews, and most importantly wine. And cards, of course, cards. As the official recorder of our trip, I feel my responsibility to the rest of my relatives to report that I won our first round of 99; Bob won the second. 

Despite the fact that the Inn has an enticing hammock on the back lawn, we decided to head into downtown Canandaigua and find a place with a lakeside view to have a drink. Why did we need to have drinks at 2:30 in the afternoon? Because we can. And so we did....drink, walk a bit, drink, window shop, drink, concert in the park, drink, dinner. You get the general idea. (Note: I stopped drinking about the time my husband handed me his car keys.)

It was, at its most basic, an indulgent day. We had the time to just do whatever, go wherever, just be. While we certainly can't understand what life was like for Mary Clark Thompson in the heighday of Sonnenberg Mansion, we can take a vacation that allows us to indulge ourselves. She used her time at her summer farmhouse to host local children; she did not have children of her own, and was a great patron of two orphanages. By taking the time to indulge her own interests, she found the room in her life to improve her corner of the  world. In today's society, we take vacations as a way to escape the small worlds we get caught up in, for a few moments off the treadmill of our regular days. By indulging ourselves for a few days, we hope we can return to our real lives as better people. 

But right now, I have to get ready to leave for today's brewery tour.

On the Road with SueBob, Day 2: People First

Have you ever been to a wine tasting? That's pretty much the reason we, and everyone else, are in the Finger Lakes. Sounds easy enough, but please understand the reality of the situation. There are hundreds of wineries within an hour of here. Each of the lakes has its own winery trail. Add to that brewery trails, grape trails, state parks with not-to-be-missed gorges (I had better not miss the gorges, because I'm not even sure what they are), and the surprise and all-enticing addition of the cheese trail, and you have yourself a conundrum. After an executive meeting involving three versions of the same map, a dozen brochures, two iPads, and four indecisive adults, we finally deferred to our host, Guy, from The 1840 Inn on Main.
Let me digress for a moment to tell you that this bed and breakfast is one of the best we have ever stayed in. Beautiful home renovated to its original grandeur with exquisite detail, with the personally required in-room private bathrooms. A porch with plenty of space to relax on white wicker furniture leads into the dining room, decorated in sophisticated golds and reds. There's a common living room complete with period furniture and classic board games. Our rooms are perfect, and being who we are, we've investigated the other three rooms by now (the guests were gone and the doors were open, I promise) and they are actually palatial. Breakfast? I have to save that discussion for another day. Here's my point: we have stayed in a lot of beautiful bed and breakfast properties, but this one has the key factor that takes it over the top. The innkeepers are pleasant, gracious, helpful, give me another good adjective and I would list it here.
Guy heard us (if you know my family at all, of course he heard us) spiraling into complete befuddlement trying to plan our day. He dared to enter the maze of our confusion and offered to lead us through. My hero. The magic he wields is in his simple, unassuming demeanor. Ten minutes after speaking with him, we had a plan. Armed with sweatshirts, bags, one new and improved map, an iPad, and Bob's serious camera equipment, we loaded ourselves into the Enclave and headed out for our first day of adventure.
We saw lots of things, explored various places, olly-hop-noodling to Geneva, down the west side of Seneca Lake, around Keuka (pronounced QKA) Lake, and back up Canandaigua Lake. Believe it or not, we only did two wine tastings, but they were both unique experiences. The one I will remember years from now, however, is the one at Bully Hill. I actually preferred the wine at Fox Run, but our vintner at Bully Hill chatted openly with us about her own life. She's a teacher who drinks a lot of wine (tell me about it, sister). How could I leave there without purchasing wine after sharing a personal conversation about life's challenges with this young woman?

As any traveler knows, we had to have a small world experience in our day. It happened at our dinner spot, recommended by the heroic Guy, Beers and Brats. I had a brat made with wine marinated pork and apricot, with sauerkraut made from locally grown cabbage, bacon, and pineapple. Yes, your mouth should be watering. But again, what I will remember the longest about this stop is the conversation we had with our waiter. Here comes the small world connection: he has cousins in Harpswell, Maine, who are lobstermen and in the elver market.

There were lots of other stops yesterday, but it's the people who are vivid in my recollection. The woman in the shoppe (yes, deserving of the pe) who talked insistently about her Airedale terriers, Daisy and Gatsby. The guys working the lunch counter and the bartender on the back deck of the Olney Market who couldn't wait to talk about the Patriots-Bills game. The bartender who was on a first name basis with Mitch and Bob after an hour long stop in Hammondsport. The places we visit can be beautiful, interesting, unusual, inspiring, but it's the connection with people that leaves the real impression.

On the Road With SueBob

When our girls were little, they always referred to my older sister and her husband as SueBob, as if they were one entity. I was reminded of this recently when my two and a half year old niece (great-niece, actually....yikes!) showed up in video form on my Facebook feed asking to see SueUncleBob: her modernized take on the one entity title. 

Mitch and I (who, to the best of my knowledge have not become PeggyMitch to any small children yet) are traveling this week with SueBob. Although she hates to hear it as much as I love to say it, Sue is my oldest sister, having kicked off the tribe of five baby-boom generation Lafreniere children. She and I are separated by 18 years; I'm pretty sure we represent the two spectrums of the baby boom, 1945 to 1964. Obviously, we didn't grow up in the same house, neither literally nor figuratively. Our life experiences occurred in vastly different times, yet, as adult siblings we have become good friends. Interesting how people can live in completely different decades, places, cultures, and yet discover shared life experiences.

And so, being good friends as well as relatives to SueBob, we have packed Mitch's new Buick Enclave with suitcases, tote bags, and an electric cooler and hit the road to the Finger Lakes region of New York. We were in the car for eleven and a half hours yesterday. I'm just going to let that statement sit for a moment.

Granted, we made several stops from Central Maine before arriving at our final destination. I am a firm believer that to call a vacation a road trip, you must stop at a Cracker Barrel. Luckily for my obsession, there is one about two hours from home in Tewksbury, Massachusetts, allowing me to baptize this trip with French toast and maple syrup. Here's what I love about Cracker Barrel: it's obvious purpose is to cater to people who travel via RVs. Haven't you always wondered who is in those oblong houses on wheels on the highway? Go to a Cracker Barrel and you'll get a glimpse of this rare breed outside of their cages. There's an analogy here about feeding time at the zoo, one of those things they sell as an add-on to your ticket as part of a behind the scenes experience, but I hesitate to use it. I don't want the reader to think I consider people in RVs animals. It's just that I am completely intrigued by the lifestyle.

Somewhere about two hours later there was another stop at an indescript gas station-food mart-coffee house-sandwich shop (definitely not the kind spelled shoppe). Let's be honest. It's a public restroom. I believe the owners of these places offer a variety of services in an attempt to be able to have polite conversation about their business. "Yes, we own a variety store and sell muffins made by Louise in her own kitchen." Once you've taken a road trip you understand that sort of statement translates to, "we own a place where people literally run in asking where the bathroom is." Again, I am not judging these business owners. They hold a heroic spot in my heart, and I want you to recognize the place of honor they should hold in our overall society. Without them, there would be cars pulled alongside the road everywhere in this country, people relieving themselves barely beyond the edge of the trees. It's like a scene out of a post-apocalyptic movie. No public restrooms. Chaos ensues.

Once we have made it to the edge of the promised land, aka about three-quarters of the way to our final destination, we stop for lunch. With the magic of Google maps, we uncover a town that offers a lunch spot called The Waterfront Grille, seating with views of the Erie Canal. Good food, certainly unobstructed views. The Erie Canal, however, is not exactly a pretty waterway. We realize we can now avoid the highway and follow a scenic byway, Route 20, the rest of the way. Apparently scenic byway is defined as a roller coaster affect of roads climbing to great heights before sliding through cornfields, twisting around curves with cows on one side, sheep on the other.

I'm starting to think the reader must be wondering how much longer I can drag out the details of this road trip. It's all part of my technique; I want you to feel the length of the journey. Now, imagine this. We are back in the Enclave, the men believing we are on our final stretch. But no, gentle reader, it cannot be that simple. Sue wants an apple. She doesn't want to buy one at a roadside stand, she wants to pick one at an orchard.

Since we are traveling way over the speed limit (do I need to specify that my husband is driving?),we blow by one, then a second, orchard. He offers to turn around, but in her well-practiced matyr voice, Sue insists that it's fine, we can stop at the next one. She has barely acquiesced when on the horizon, like an effervescent mirage, rises the Disneyland of apple orchards, Beak & Skiff Apple Orchard. Warm cider donuts, encrusted with the perfect amount of sugar. Hot apple fritters, dusted with powdered sugar. A shoppe (this one deserves the shoppe spelling) with kitchen gadgets one buys and never uses. An apple barn where you can taste the different varieties of apples....clearly for rookie apple people. We know we want macs, and there is not a bad apple in the bin. But the visit is not over. Holding the highest peak on the hillside apple extravaganza is the tasting room and pub. New Yorkers don't mess with plain old apple cider, they turn the volume up and process it as alcohol here. Hard cider, which we sampled in every of the five varieties, was begging to be purchased as a set of three bottles. Vodka and gin, processed from apples - genius. Overall, this unplanned stop turns out to be the highlight of our day. And that, my reader companion, is really what a road trip is all about.