Once Upon a Piper

Toti Nonna has been gone since January 28th and I have cried every morning just as a matter of course. She’s my first thought and my last thought every day, no exception.

Six weeks ago today I took myself over to Rbari, Ramapo Bergen Animal Refuge to see an available for adoption “in training” dog named Hilda.  First, who the hell names a dog Hilda and second, please define in training…  She looked like my Lina who, along with Toti Nonna, was put into training almost immediately upon arrival on Stowe Lane fourteen years ago. So I know my way around a crazy dog or two.  I could save another one as I promised Toti.  I could make her into another love of the neighborhood.  I could but maybe I couldn’t.  She was a pretty girl, I could see, even through the muzzle, she was tentative, she was cautious and so was I.  That is not a good combination for high intensity training.  Especially in a neighborhood with many many dogs at the end of extending leashes and no open outdoor space. I didn’t want to leave her but the circumstances would not have been to her benefit. Was it too soon?

But you know who would love your neighborhood?  Uh Oh…here comes the pitch.  Piper they said, she’s a Puggle.  Piper the Puggle…you know me, you know my eyes rolled involuntarily. What should I do Toti? Mom? Yes Toti? At least check her out. Yes Toti. And out came the cutest bundle of wiggle ass I’ve ever seen and she’s so soft and she’s got this face and and and twenty minutes later after just a moment’s pause she jumped into the back of the BMW. Ok Toti? Yes Mom.

Here’s the thing, she’s no Toti Nonna but she’s a funny little thing to have around and she’s wiggling her way further into my heart every day but for the first couple of weeks I couldn’t remember her name. People would ask and I was stumped, not good. What do you think Toti?  Rename her Mom, I know she rolled her eyes.  It’s a trait she got from me. But to what…

There are some people who you don’t see often and you don’t really follow along with their day to day but they still poke you once in a while and they still have a true sense of who you are and they seem to show up at exactly the right moments. They make you laugh, out loud, something I hadn’t realized I’d not done it months. You know the ones:

So bless you Michael you were just the respite from guilt and confusion I needed to rename the little chonk of a girl, who absolutely looks like a woman from the village that takes her walk everyday with her stockings rolled down to meet her shoes. Welcome Vecchietta.

In the last six weeks she has had exactly two accidents, (neither her fault as I missed the cues) had no preference nor need for the crate, ate beautifully, wacka wackas (loudest one ever from Lexi) her squeaky toys without trying to destroy them (thank you Aunt Fran and Aunt Maria for the abundance…of squeak toys) learns like an eager student and knows how to have a decent conversation.

She barks appropriately (Mom there’s someone at the door. You can’t come in til Mom says OK) and doesn’t suffer from separation anxiety, somehow Toti taught her to “take herself to bed” which she knows and understands, even when I say it.

Where we have differing opinions is on the walk.  I’m used to my dogs walking at my side, stop when I stop, no pulling on the leash.  This little girl is “enthusiastic” but come to find out they have harnesses for that, WHO KNEW? So the full extent of our training is in full swing and we walk miles a day.  My Fitbit is overjoyed to tell me I’m on a 41 day step streak!

Toti Nonna will never leave me, she will be with me my entire life, most likely I will continue to shed a tear for her each morning and when I close my eyes each night.  Except of course if I’m interrupted by the damn wacka wacka.

Mom? Yes Toti? I know, I sent a good one…yes you did Toti, yes you did.

Toti Nonna in the infinity of life

In the infinity of life, where I am, all is perfect whole and complete.   Louise Hay

Hello February, I didn’t think I’d give a damn whether your notorious reputation for love and the promise of warmer weather came through or not. But here I am ready to move forward.

Forward from what?  Just shy of fourteen years ago, two fearful, beautiful, lost, then found, dogs made their way from Little Rock, Arkansas to Mahwah, New Jersey via the universe is unfolding in your favor express.  They were a handful in the best of circumstances, these were really the worst of circumstances having left a marriage and moved to a condo that had very little furniture because unencumbered was big in those days.  I’ll leave that there. We worked hard, we three, we learned and set boundaries and learned more and began a life that would envy any fairy tale…minus the prince. We three were a pack. The pack lost a member when Lina died. The pack was still strong even in its heartbreak.

All credit for that goes to Toti Nonna, the glue, the care giver, the boss of us all. Or so I thought.  She took care of her sister until she breathed her last breath. Then she took care of her Gramma until she too breathed her last breath. I believed I would be next in the line of recipients.  What I began to realize was that Toti had been taking care of me by taking care of them.  Now we were it, she and me, mutual caring to the very end.

The very end came on January 28th, 2022. She had simply grown old beyond her capabilities.  She had left it all in my hands. She believed I was ready, I wasn’t. I had never had more than 6 days without her on Stowe Lane, I’m here almost 14 years. My only capability was sobbing, in my pajamas every day, sometimes showering sometimes who gave a shit.  It was just me, going nowhere.

People were kind.  The core was surrounding me at arm’s length because they knew like they knew to leave me the hell alone.  I don’t do well in consolation, I do my work in isolation. But I do my work. And I am eternally grateful for their tiny pokes.

Thankfully, there has always been a moment in time for me to know my work is done.  I had cried a river and the river had run dry or changed course or simply returned to within its banks.   Toti and I will always be joined at the heart, she and I are the same; we take care of people, things, and situations. We herd people, figuratively and literally, into what is best for them because naturally only we know what that is…

She’s everywhere in this home, in my phone, in my writing, God knows Instagram nearly killed me but now I smile.  I’m a little pissed that Gramma got her back but my guess is Gramma needed her for something and I’m not going to question what. I promised Toti I’d save another one, I’m keeping my promise in Miss Piper who arrived on Stowe Lane less than a week ago.  You’ll hear more about her in the near future, she’s a great story too.

Mom

Yes Toti?

Well done…

Thank you Toti, you can rest now.

Mirepoix

Welcome to December, I’m not entirely sure how that could be but welcome anyway. It’s always been my time to take inventory of my freezer in anticipation of those fabulous snow days…turns out I have no Mirepoix in there. None, zero, one good snow storm and I’ll starve to death without it. So today was the day.

Onion, carrot, celery the magical base of almost every winter recipe either full or speed scratch for one. You already know which way I’m leaning. In keeping with the speed scratch way, I long ago stopped chopping those fabulous veg in lew of pre chopped. Where is it written that you must chop your own mirepoix? No where.

I start with good olive oil, I love the oils from Italy, and unsalted butter. Classic saute and stir in the veg, does anyone else have a favorite spatula? I thought so.

Here it comes, that smell. The only way to get mirepoix scented air freshener is to cook it. Salt, pepper and any special / signature seasoning and let the water render out. Slowly, until the onions become translucent. You’ll know you’re there when the sizzle begins to get louder as the water lets off. Perfect for freezing and using later.

Pack it up in your choice and size freezer container and let it cool completely uncovered. I use a “for one” size, I can always pull out more  if necessary. Dedicate a section of your freezer to these fabulous containers so that you can grab and go with your favorite ingredients.

If you’d like one of my favorite winter storm recipes you can find it here.

Buon Appetito

Where the hell have you been?

Good question. Several places since April of 2018 when I discussed bread from the bakery and my thriving Red Bud. It was a moment in time for that Red Bud, about to enter its second decade on Stowe Lane; never once threatened by the roving maniacs otherwise known as landscapers.

How, was I to know there was another moment in time waiting just around the corner in July? That’s when the inimitable Rere went by Daddy.  She’d been threatening to go for several years but phoenix that she was she defied the odds until she didn’t. It was an exhausting year and no words would come. Most of that story was told through loving conversations with her beloved Toti Nonna on Instagram which allowed everyone an overwhelming level of comfort. There was so much to say about that moment and yet it’s all been said leaving everyone with no regrets and an exhale.

When I started the blog in 2009, let me say that again…2009, it was a moment in time for me. I was newly divorced and starting a fresh life on Stowe Lane.  I had much to say, mostly because previous to that year I hadn’t said much at all. And you better believe I took advantage of my voice here on the blog, from indignant rants to the little things to family to elder beauty and food and whatever stuck in my craw.

Then something shifted, I began writing more on Instagram following prompts and current trends and the ordinary.  #lifeonstowelane would later become a beloved hashtag on IG and I could write and post to my heart’s content, there was no need to blog.  Blogging had gone out of style, lost its relevance, or something like laziness set in and I had no patience to expand my thoughts.

Over the last two and a half years I’ve been busy transitioning into retirement. I’ll spare the gory details but it’s been an adventure complete with disappointments, meetings, meetings, more meetings, knock down drag outs, negotiations and a very happy ending. There was the trip of a lifetime to Italy’s Tuscan Women Cook and oh yeah a worldwide pandemic that isn’t quite through with us yet. So, again, there I was posting and writing on Instagram. But…as I read over some of it recently, it was pretty good. Sometimes thoughtful, sometimes irreverent, sometimes funny as hell #conversationswithtoti, sometimes helpful. And the food, the cooking, and all the ideas swirling around that wanted very much to become a book…

So here I am…again. With much to say in a place where it can be savored and cataloged and preserved because, yep, legacy albeit ordinary.  This time around it will probably be much ado about retirement, living blessedly alone, cooking, creating art, being Italianish and God knows what else in the hopes that the book will somehow come to fruition.  I’m thinking a monthly wrap up of IG posts and additional goodies. I’m thinking snarky rants and emotion and preventing people from eating cold cereal for dinner.  You know mindful living in the not so woo woo way we’ve all come to know…and love…yeah we still love it.

I hope you’ll stay tuned and tell your friends, see you in March. slc