songbird's crazy world

We hadn't been here in awhile, but with the recent demise of Ayhan's Westbury location, it was time to return to Baldwin.  Overall it was a pleasant dining experience, the food was what we expected, and we left full and happy.  Soft Turkish bread with yogurt sauce always delights. We really like the saganaki fondue -- melted mozzarella and bits of tomato served with pita bread.  Greek salad -- chopped vegetables and feta in a tangy vinaigrette -- was excellent. The five kebab feast -- served with rice pilaf and vegetables -- was well prepared.  I was disappointed with the moussaka -- layers of eggplant, potatoes and ground meat topped by a béchamel sauce.  It lacked the characteristic taste of nutmeg and cinnamon.   Now for the not-so-good moments. I was expecting to be served bread, then the saganaki, then the salads, and then the entrees.  Our salads arrived first, and then our waitress asked us if we wanted the bread.  We were...

So you may recall that I signed up for a yoga class at the high school, part of our community's continuing education service. Class met once a week, on Thursday nights. The teacher was wonderful, he realized that some class members were novices, others quite accomplished. He made it clear that yoga is non-competitive, that we should do what we can and not worry about what others are doing. I loved the class and was sad to see it end. He'll be teaching another session in the spring. But what to do in the meantime? I found out that the public library offers fitness classes. Including yoga. My first class was this week. Most of the people in the class have been taking yoga with this teacher for awhile, but there were a few of us who were new students. The teacher watched me during the class, and afterwards she told me that she knew from how I handled the poses that I was not new to yoga. I think I'm going to like this class. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

It's been awhile since I've done one of these.... I recently joined a new group on Facebook, a group of people who grew up in the1970's.  And now my Facebook feed is flooded with cultural icons of the decade -- music, TV, toys, magazine covers, posters.... And then there was the conversation I had with a fellow blogger/real-life friend.  He blogged about his favorite music, devoted two days to his all-time favorite singles. All of his choices came from his childhood in the 60's, except for two songs from his college years.  Nothing from high school...he explained that he was miserable in high school, and even the music didn't help.  That's interesting, because my top  choices would all come from my teen years.  I mean, I like the music of the 60's, but the music I chose for myself in my teens is a huge part of what defines me as a person even now.  So here are my top songs: 5.  Barry Manilow, "I Write The Songs"  I had Barry...

I visited L in the hospital again last night.  She was a wreck, was having a hard time making a difficult decision.    Her emotions were chaotic, she was very needy, very scared. It's so hard to watch her go through this.  I feel useless.  And I feel very drained.

So I was looking at old blog posts, and came across this one . A funny story about R.  Yes, the lady whose funeral was earlier this week. Here's the story: Santa, is that you? Oh no! I don't usually tell other people's stories, but this one was too funny to pass up. Two weeks after hearing it, I am still laughing. The story involves a friend of a friend. Let's call her R. She is an older woman, never married, socially conservative. You might say straight-laced. Very old school. R lives alone. Her brother J and his family live in the house next door. J is retired from a position in law enforcement. Over the years R has come to depend on her brother J for many things. So when it came time to decorate for Christmas, of course J did R's front yard as well as his own. R notices that one of the inflatables, a Santa figure, is facing the house. She doesn't know why Santa is facing the wrong direction, but she figures J will fix it eventually, an...

So yesterday was R's funeral.  I wasn't a close friend, I didn't go to the funeral -- showing up at the wake and buying a Mass card will suffice.  But I can't help thinking that R was far too young to die.  She was just two weeks shy of her 66th birthday. She had a massive heart attack.  Everyone was sad, but no one was shocked.  They said she hadn't looked healthy for months.  She was a diabetic who didn't follow the regimen, didn't eat right, didn't take her medications as directed.  On the heels of R's wake comes the news that L is back in the hospital. L is the friend I've  mentioned before, she has  serious health issues and has spent the better part of the last 9 months in treatment for diabetes-related conditions.  L is also 66 years old. 66.  A mere 10 years older than I am.  And so I find myself feeling sorry for R's family on their loss, and feeling terrible about the situation L fi...

So...Thanksgiving with my family Thursday, and with Drew's family Friday.    Food, family, friendship.  Love, laughter, memories. And yet, looking around the table, and seeing who is no longer among us...a profound sense of sadness at the passing of time. And then, more sadness.  Saturday afternoon at the wake.  I didn't know R well, but I thought she was a warm and caring friend.  I've since learned how active she was in her church, how well loved she was in her parish.   Normally I'd make a donation to a secular charity, but for R, it has to be a Mass card.  Good thing  our friend K was able to show the Jewish contingent how to fill those out, we were all a bit lost...We sat very respectfully when they recited the Rosary -- at least that is said in English, I can't imagine what gentiles think when we recite Kaddish.  And then, out of the darkness, light. Drew and his sister Shelley have reconciled. R was S...