A Love Story, In 15 Cookies

New York Magazine Cookie

Sometimes the most memorable gifts are the most ephemeral gifts. Like flowers. Cookies made with a certain someone in mind. Sweet sentiments uttered in the presence of loved ones. This past weekend, David (aka our own Fatty Daddy) lavished all three of these on The One to fête his beloved’s 55th birthday. Though the presents themselves may be transitory, the thinking behind them began last year, when David made a rare appearance at a reception in Manhattan. Perched atop the requisite cake were cookies in the likeness of various New York City icons, each exquisitely fashioned by Gail Dosik. It was at that moment that David started scheming. Months later, David presented these 15 cookies, each of which symbolizes something near and dear to The One’s heart, to the birthday boy before his bash this past Saturday night. Actually, though, these tokens of love actually began long, long ago. As David explained to The One, in his words, “Once upon a time, when two princes fell in love the old-fashioned way….” Here, we present their love story, as told in those cute-as-can-be cookies. As for ephemeral? The One refused to share the cookies with his guests. Nor would he take even a single nibble. Instead, he intends to hold them near and dear forever. Can’t say as we blame him.–Renee Schettler Rossi

ONCE UPON A TIME there were two princes (well, one was really more of a princess when it came to temperament) who were searching for love in all the wrong places. This was the early ’90s and they were in their early 30s–can you blame them? But all they found were broken promises shouted over thumping house music. Tired and exhausted from years of looking for Mr. Goodbar, each of them at last decided to consult the ancient romance oracle known as the personal pages of New York magazine. (Yes, children, there was a time when people actually met and fell in love via the printed word–before eHarmony and Match.com.) Fatty Daddy, who wasn’t yet fat but rather gorgeously slim and sporting a thick shock of brown hair, placed a royal decree for a companion prince. Of all the princes in all the lands, not to mention a few nude creeps who had no sense of modesty, only one—The One—fit the bill. He was slender, with blue eyes flecked with gold, and just enough blond hair left to qualify as a receding hairline. He was perfect. Read more »

Jack Frost Nipping

Frost

This morning, long before the sun peeked over the gargantuan pines lining the front yard, I went outside with my camera. (I’m trying to be a good blogger and take pictures as often as I can. So far, I’d give myself a D minus.) What the hell can I shoot today? I wondered. The yard is the yard is the yard. Trees, grass, shrubs. The broken-down Adirondack chair that neither The One nor I have the heart to bring to the dump. The lichen-covered hammock. As I was about to turn on my very cold heels, I heard it. The grass crunching. Kind of the way Momma Leite’s heavily shellacked beehive crunches right after Noreen does her hair on Thursdays.

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Not a Creature Was Stirring

Hibernating Mouse

Yesterday I walked around the backyard, taking in the remainder of the damage from Hurricane Sandy. Our biggest loss was a 70-foot pine tree that crashed down within feet of the house, taking with it two other majestically mature trees. Although we cleaned up that mess a week after the storm, The One is still dragging downed branches and smashed bushes to our Christmas-tree graveyard beyond the back stone wall.

As I sat on the wall, thinking about how exposed we suddenly were to the neighbors—whom we’re thrilled rarely to see, either accidentally or socially–I spied our old grill. I was surprised that it was still standing. After all, it’s a cheap roller version, no bigger than those rickety carts that flight attendants wheel past row after row of passive-aggressive passengers.

Then I remembered a certain family that lived nearby and wondered how they’d weathered the storm. The Peromyscus leucopus family. Field mice, to be exact. Unlike the neighbors who live on either side of us and creep through the thicket of trees (which are now gone, thanks to Sandy) and scare the hell out of us while we have dinner on the patio, this family had never, ever accosted us. Read more »

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