Great progress in February!
S did a stellar job building my garden beds (with my expert assistance picking out materials -- which is to say, I followed him around with the lumber cart while he picked stuff out)! I now have four. We figured out where they're going to go, measured the width of the tractor to make sure it can fit between them, and dug them into yard. Only things left to do are fill with dirt and plant!
I've done a bit more research about what I want to plant and where I want the particular plants to go, but nothing is in the ground yet. It's still early.
Pictures to follow!
I also made progress on my overdue January goal -- I bought paint! I went with red. I didn't get a chance to paint last weekend, but at least I have the supplies. It's a step in the right direction.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Telluride
S and I went to Colorado for the annual ski trip recently -- although for the first time in several years, not over Super Bowl weekend. (Not that that means we had a great SB party at home; we did not even watch it.)
Anywho, we had a wonderfully uneventful pair of flights, and even arrived early! It was shocking. There is a first time for everything, I suppose.
We arrived in Telluride on Saturday, rented skis, and got set up for the next day. Saturday was lovely and warm, but the slopes were pretty icy still, so we waited until Sunday to ski. It was supposed to snow overnight on Saturday night, but really nothing of note came down.
We got out to go skiing on Sunday, and we weren't out too long before the snow started coming down. It was heavy and soppy and wet, but nevertheless it added a nice layer of several inches of soft stuff, especially up high on the mountain.
It continued snowing all night and through most of Monday, though it lightened up considerably and there was only a little bit of new snow on Monday. Still, the skiing was good if somewhat disorienting due to the low-hanging fog. If you went up high you could get above it and actually get a view, but then you had to ski back down through it, and skiing in white-out conditions is certainly an interesting endeavor.
For dinner Monday night, we headed to one of Dad's favorite spots in Telluride, La Marmotte. It was a lovely, cozy little spot, French (as you might have guessed). Though they were not on top of their game that night, according to more regular diners than myself, I still had a quite satisfying meal of spinach- and blue cheese-stuffed chicken with roasted purple potatoes. S got the Colorado rabbit, which was pretty tasty, but the turnip puree that it was plated on was the winner.
Except for my cocktail, which I had as an appetizer and dessert: Esprit d'escalier. It consisted of bourbon, Aperol, amaro, bitters, and a lemon twist. And perhaps some other ingredients I am forgetting after two of them, plus a few sips of S's Flatliner, which is apparently the local town drink. Fun fact about my drink though: it's French for "staircase wit," and is used in English to describe the phenomenon of thinking of the perfect reply too late.
We skied one final day on Tuesday. There were some decent runs up high, but down low it was awfully icy. But, to bastardize a quote from S, "a bad day skiing is preferable to a good day at the office." Amen to that.
Dinner on Tuesday night was with A. She and S climbed Mt. Shuksan together a year and a half back. In the intervening time, she had quit her job as a high-paid lawyer in Manhattan and moved into her car. She met a guy who lived about a half hour from Telluride and "moved in" with him (a.k.a. parked her car in his driveway). The four of us had dinner at La Cocina, at which my big disappointment was the lack of any hard liquor besides tequila. Consider yourself warned!
The following day we drove back to Durango and basically chilled for the last 24 hours of the vacation. I did a little bit of work, we ate a lot of food, we drank some drinks, and then it was time to head home.
Anywho, we had a wonderfully uneventful pair of flights, and even arrived early! It was shocking. There is a first time for everything, I suppose.
We arrived in Telluride on Saturday, rented skis, and got set up for the next day. Saturday was lovely and warm, but the slopes were pretty icy still, so we waited until Sunday to ski. It was supposed to snow overnight on Saturday night, but really nothing of note came down.
We got out to go skiing on Sunday, and we weren't out too long before the snow started coming down. It was heavy and soppy and wet, but nevertheless it added a nice layer of several inches of soft stuff, especially up high on the mountain.
It continued snowing all night and through most of Monday, though it lightened up considerably and there was only a little bit of new snow on Monday. Still, the skiing was good if somewhat disorienting due to the low-hanging fog. If you went up high you could get above it and actually get a view, but then you had to ski back down through it, and skiing in white-out conditions is certainly an interesting endeavor.
For dinner Monday night, we headed to one of Dad's favorite spots in Telluride, La Marmotte. It was a lovely, cozy little spot, French (as you might have guessed). Though they were not on top of their game that night, according to more regular diners than myself, I still had a quite satisfying meal of spinach- and blue cheese-stuffed chicken with roasted purple potatoes. S got the Colorado rabbit, which was pretty tasty, but the turnip puree that it was plated on was the winner.
Except for my cocktail, which I had as an appetizer and dessert: Esprit d'escalier. It consisted of bourbon, Aperol, amaro, bitters, and a lemon twist. And perhaps some other ingredients I am forgetting after two of them, plus a few sips of S's Flatliner, which is apparently the local town drink. Fun fact about my drink though: it's French for "staircase wit," and is used in English to describe the phenomenon of thinking of the perfect reply too late.
We skied one final day on Tuesday. There were some decent runs up high, but down low it was awfully icy. But, to bastardize a quote from S, "a bad day skiing is preferable to a good day at the office." Amen to that.
Dinner on Tuesday night was with A. She and S climbed Mt. Shuksan together a year and a half back. In the intervening time, she had quit her job as a high-paid lawyer in Manhattan and moved into her car. She met a guy who lived about a half hour from Telluride and "moved in" with him (a.k.a. parked her car in his driveway). The four of us had dinner at La Cocina, at which my big disappointment was the lack of any hard liquor besides tequila. Consider yourself warned!
The following day we drove back to Durango and basically chilled for the last 24 hours of the vacation. I did a little bit of work, we ate a lot of food, we drank some drinks, and then it was time to head home.
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Cartier and the Plant House
I read a story recently in a magazine about Cartier's flagship store in NYC. It's located on 5th Avenue, in the heart of New York City's most expensive shopping district. That's to be expected.
What was interesting about the story was how that house came to be owned by the Cartier family.
According to both the magazine I was reading and Wikipedia (so it must be true), this is how it happened:
The Plant family was a railroad family. By the time of the mansion's completion in 1907, the family was fabulously wealthy. A few years later, Morton Plant found himself interested in a lovely young lady, who herself was interested in a lovely double strand of Cartier pearls, flawless in their natural beauty. They were valued at $1 million. Mr. Plant struck a deal with Mr. Cartier to give him $100 and the 10-year-old mansion in return for the pearls.
Mr. Plant also got the girl -- for a while.
However, the pearls declined in value significantly after the advent of cultured pearls just a few years later. The real estate, on the other hand, is worth more and more as time goes by.
What was interesting about the story was how that house came to be owned by the Cartier family.
According to both the magazine I was reading and Wikipedia (so it must be true), this is how it happened:
The Plant family was a railroad family. By the time of the mansion's completion in 1907, the family was fabulously wealthy. A few years later, Morton Plant found himself interested in a lovely young lady, who herself was interested in a lovely double strand of Cartier pearls, flawless in their natural beauty. They were valued at $1 million. Mr. Plant struck a deal with Mr. Cartier to give him $100 and the 10-year-old mansion in return for the pearls.
Mr. Plant also got the girl -- for a while.
However, the pearls declined in value significantly after the advent of cultured pearls just a few years later. The real estate, on the other hand, is worth more and more as time goes by.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Goals 2017 -- February Edition
For February, I have a carryover goal from January (the notions cabinet), plus a new one: I will build my additional garden beds.
I had just one garden bed this past year. I've decided I need at least two -- the cucumbers will get one of their own. There might be more -- perhaps one for cucumbers, one for herbs, and one for vegetables, one for something else. It's all a work in progress, but now is the time to build them so that they're ready to go in the spring.
S, I'm going to need some help!
I had just one garden bed this past year. I've decided I need at least two -- the cucumbers will get one of their own. There might be more -- perhaps one for cucumbers, one for herbs, and one for vegetables, one for something else. It's all a work in progress, but now is the time to build them so that they're ready to go in the spring.
S, I'm going to need some help!
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