Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

 

It first started with all the advertisements from Starbucks and McDonalds. Then came the trip to Home Goods where when I entered the store, the moment I walked through the doors, I was hit with the scent of pumpkin candles and those cinnamon brooms they stock this time of year.

Suddenly I was craving softness: sweaters with sleeves that graze my knuckles and that don’t apologize for being beige and great hardy dishes right out of the crockpot.  My obsession with all things made with pumpkin has been rekindled for Autumn.  So not only is it sweater weather it is comfort food season. 

Pumpkin spice isn’t just a flavor. It’s a mood. It’s a little nostalgic, a little indulgent. It’s the scent of a season that forgives you for skipping the gym and cooking with lots of butter. It is sugar and spice and everything nice. It’s the friends who show up in mismatched socks, the chili that stains your favorite sweater, and hot a hot toddy on a cold evening sipped in front of the fireplace. (And yes, mismatched socks are now sold in pairs—because even comfort has a marketing team.)

This year, I’m skipping the pie. I’m hosting a gal pal evening, and I am thinking of serving pumpkin chili, apple pie and a cocktail called The Cozy Drop. Comfort doesn’t have to be sweet—it just has to be shared. I went looking for a chili recipe and one for a cocktail and here is what I came up with:

Pumpkin Chili (Savory, Not Sweet)

Ingredients

• 1 tbsp olive oil

• 1 small onion, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 bell pepper, chopped (any color)

• 1 lb ground turkey or beef (or skip for a vegetarian version)

• 1 can (15 oz) pumpkin purée (not pie filling)

• 1 can (15 oz) diced tomatoes

• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed

• 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed

• 1½ cups vegetable or chicken broth

• 2 tsp chili powder

• 1 tsp cumin

•  ½ tsp smoked paprika

•  ¼ tsp cinnamon (trust me—it deepens the flavor)

•  Salt and pepper, to taste

     

Instructions

1.  Sauté aromatics: Heat olive oil in a large pot. Add onion, garlic, and bell pepper. Cook until softened.

2.  Brown the meat: Add ground turkey or beef, breaking it up as it cooks. Season lightly with salt and pepper.

3.  Add the flavor base: Stir in pumpkin purée, tomatoes, beans, broth, and spices. Mix well.

4. Simmer: Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 30–40 minutes, stirring occasionally. The chili will thicken and deepen in flavor.

5. Taste and tweak: Adjust seasoning. Add a splash of vinegar or lime juice if it needs brightness.

6. Serve: Top with sour cream, shredded cheese, toasted pepitas, or crushed tortilla chips. Pair with cornbread or a crusty baguette.

 The Cozy Drop Cocktail

Ingredients

• 2 oz vodka (a smooth base—try one with vanilla or citrus notes)

• ¾ oz fresh lemon juice

• ¾ oz apple cider (unfiltered for depth)

• ½ oz simple syrup (or maple syrup for extra autumnal flair)

• Cinnamon sugar, for rimming the glass

• Optional: dash of ginger liqueur or bitters for warmth

Enjoy

Another Great, Gone

 

Diane Keaton has passed away, and I didn’t realize how much she meant to cinema or to me until I read about her death.

I loved Diane Keaton. I truly identified with her. She was different—unique, quirky, unapologetically herself. She never tried to blend in with the pack. She spoke her mind and chose roles that resonated with her. Some, like Annie Hall and The First Wives Club, became cultural touchstones. Others were quiet sleepers, just as powerful in their own way.

She was admired by her peers and collaborators, and to my knowledge there’s no public record of her having serious problems working with other actors. So rare in Hollywood. In fact, many of her most iconic roles came from close creative partnerships with her co-stars—some of whom she also dated. 

Although I do not enjoy Woody Allen and have been known to walk out of his movies, I did see Annie Hall.  Diane Keaton was the reason for its success. She starred in eight films with Woody Allen, but I only went to see Annie Hall.

Although I’ve never been a fan of Woody Allen and have even walked out of his movies, I did see Annie Hall. Diane Keaton was the reason I stayed. She brought something singular to that film: wit, vulnerability, and a style all her own. Though she starred in eight films with Allen, Annie Hall was the only one I chose to see. And it was enough to show me how great she was.

There are very few like her.  She will be missed.

My Continuing Coffee Journey

One thing Charlotte doesn’t lack is coffee shops. They’re everywhere, and many are genuinely great. Since I only work parttime one of my favorite ritual is to seek out a new cafe. I do have a short check list that I use to make a decision whether the cafe is worthy of a visit. I have outlined my criteria below:

Criteria for Repeat Visits:

   • Coffee Quality – Bold, balanced, and worth savoring

   • Bakery Selection – Tempting treats that go beyond the basics or if they are basic, they            are high quality

   • Seating Vibe – Cozy, and conversation-friendly

   • Bonus Comforts – outdoor seating, or unexpected charm

My friends and I love catching up over a good cup of coffee, and one of our favorite spots is Rocky River Coffee in Harrisburg, NC. With both indoor and outdoor seating, it’s the kind of place where you can settle in, sip slowly, and chat in a relaxed setting. The bonus for me is that every day they have a flavored coffee, not the kind that you add a sugary syrup.  It is flavored ground beans, my favorite treat.  

Recently, when my daughter had the morning off, I took her to Rocky River Coffee, hoping she’d enjoy it as much as we do. They didn’t disappoint. The café is in the midst of a renovation, and even now, it’s already looking cozier and more inviting.

The Verdict: Meets all of my criteria for being a repeat favorite. Great for catching up with friends or introducing someone new to my coffee rituals. 

 

Sincerely Sancerre: A Sips and Apps Reflection

 

My Sips and Apps group met recently, and the wine of choice was Sancerre. I wasn’t familiar with this varietal, so in case you’re in the same boat, here’s a quick rundown: Sancerre hails from the rolling hills of France’s Loire Valley and is made from 100% Sauvignon Blanc grapes. But unlike the bold, tropical Sauvignon Blancs of New Zealand or California, Sancerre is all about restraint, elegance, and minerality. It is the type of wine that when you are entertaining and want to make an understated statement you serve Sancerre.

Its flavor profile is crisp citrus, green apple and a subtle herbal taste. It is light-bodied but structured, with a clean, high-acid finish. The region’s limestone and clay soils give Sancerre its signature minerality.

We started our wine tasting with the Sancerre. For kicks—and maybe a little mischief—we poured a California Sauvignon Blanc alongside it. The contrast was striking. The best word to describe the California wine is very bold and unapologizing loud, with an overwhelming taste of citrus. The poor California Cousin never had a chance.

Of course, none of our gatherings are complete without food. We gave serious thought to the heavy apps for the pairing. Asparagus wrapped in pastry, baked brie, shrimp scampi, and crostini made their way to the table. A lemon cake brought the evening to a bright, sweet close.

If you have tasted Sancerre please leave your comments.

The Way We Were

 

The Way We Were hit theaters in 1973. I was 17—completely and blissfully naïve about nearly everything. I’d grown up in what felt like a much simpler time, at least through my eyes. I had already seen Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl, and when she sang “Don’t Rain on My Parade,” something shifted. It was an epiphany. That moment changed everything for me. Aside from Rosie O’Donnell, I’m convinced I’m her biggest fan.

 But it was The Way We Were that introduced me to Robert Redford—and with it, my very first celebrity crush.

Watching the film through my seventeen-year-old eyes, I believed their love would last forever. But rewatching it now, with the benefit (and burden) of experience, I see the truth: Katie and Hubbell were never meant to make it. 

They couldn’t stay together because their core values, their view of the world, and what they needed from love were simply too far apart. Their relationship was built on admiration and intense attraction, but it couldn’t bridge the deeper ideological and emotional divides.  In many ways, the world now echoes their relationship—beautiful on the outside, but with deep ideologic divisions. But unlike Katie and Hubbell, I remain hopeful. Though they couldn’t sustain their world together, I believe ours—our democracy—still can.

 Robert Redford is gone and while my seventeen-year-old self, believed in forever, today I understand that some things are meant to be remembered, not sustained. Maybe that’s why The Way We Were still lingers, it captures the ache of what almost was, and the beauty of what couldn’t be.

The seventeen-year-old girl still lives in my heart, and every now and then, she longs to return to The Way We Were—even if only for a brief moment.

Days I loved You Most

This book explores the complexities of a long marriage. I found it totally relatable since I have been married for forty-two years.

Set in New England in the summer of 1941, Evelyn and Joseph first fall in love.  More than sixty years later they gather their three adult children together to tell them staggering news.  Evelyn has received a heartbreaking diagnosis, and Joseph does not want to live without her.  Together they decide to live their lives as fully as possible for one final year and then end their lives on their terms.

Their decision sends shockwaves through their children's lives, each dealing with the situation differently. Neff captures the emotions the children share like heartache, disbelief and anger.

She also does an outstanding job of portraying the ebb and flow of the couple's long marriage.   She clearly writes about the ups and downs of a long-standing marriage. In addition, I love how she takes us through what is to be their last year and how they make every effort to reconnect with their children.

Even after reading the book, I struggle to reconcile with Joseph's decision to end his own life. He deserves to live and have a presence in his family's life. Yes, losing a loved one is devastating, and yes grief can last a lifetime. 

I understand that Joseph’s identity is deeply entwined with Evelyn’s. He’s spent his entire adult life by her side, and the thought of continuing without her feels unbearable. But he’s a strong character. I want him to give himself a chance—to try to build a life beyond her. If he would consider that possibility, I think I could understand his choice more fully.

One thing this book made me ask is: How can I live more fully? How can I engage more deeply with my own life? For me, it’s not about checking items off a bucket list. In fact, I don’t have a bucket list—and I don’t want one.

Instead, I want to live as authentically as possible and be truly present. Now that I’m no longer working five days a week, I’ve added so many new things to my life—activities that bring joy, connection, and creativity. I’m learning to find a better balance between the time I work and the time I don’t. That balance was missing before, and I’m grateful to be discovering it now.

 

Alexa, Stop Listening to My Life

 

I’m a boomer. I remember when phones had cords, and privacy meant closing the door—not toggling a setting buried six menus deep. These days, even silence feels surveilled.   Smart assistants like Alexa, Google Assistant, and Siri are designed to respond to voice commands, but this means they are constantly listening. 

Although they claim to activate only with specific wake words, accidental activations are possible. Many of my friends love using the voice command function.  They can just say "Alexa play music similar to Celion Dion or Cher" and the music plays.  Or perhaps they want to make chicken Cacciatore for dinner, all they need to do is ask Alexa. What they don't understand is that Alexa or any of the other smart assistances for that matter never leaves the room.

How many times have you been muttering something to yourself about wishing you had something or another and Alexa or Siri answer you with something they found to help you.  Or have you ever noticed you were talking about a product with someone and the next time you were online you are inundated with ads about this product? Apparently, Alexa was listening.

Voice recordings, accidental activations, microphone settings. a smart assistant can be saving snippets of your life, your questions, your tone, even your background noise. It feels like someone has been reading your diary and knows all your deep dark secrets.

And it’s not just Alexa. Gaming apps, too. I downloaded a game that asked for microphone access. Why? Was it going to listen to me groan when I couldn’t solve level 12? I revoked the permission, but the damage was done. I’d invited something into my phone that didn’t know how to mind its own business.

Privacy used to be a default. Now it’s a choice. And like any good boomer I am more vigilant. I’m choosing it with intention, a little suspicion, and a whole lot of sass. I disable microphones when I’m not using them. I check app permissions like I check expiration dates on yogurt. I still use tech—I am not a person opposed to new technology or ways of working for goodness' sake, but I want it to serve me, not study me.

Consider reviewing your device settings and history. Disabling microphone access when not in use. Instructions on managing these settings can be found by going to the internet and google. 

I would love your opinion on the use of smart assistance.