Kick lines and Christmas: The Rockettes in Rhythm

 

In my post published on 11/12, I wrote about the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade—the music, the marching bands, the balloons, and the floats. But I realize I didn’t give a proper shout‑out to the Rockettes, who have always been my favorite part of the parade.

The Rockettes aren’t just a dance troupe to me; they’re part of the rhythm of my holidays. Their high kicks and perfect precision have been dazzling audiences for a century, but for me, they’re woven into my own memories. I can still picture myself as a child, curled up on the couch, waiting for their moment on the screen. Year after year, they brought a sparkle that felt like the official start of the season. Even now, I never grow tired of them—their glamour, their energy, and the sense of tradition they carry. Watching them feels like reconnecting with every Thanksgiving morning I’ve ever known.

I can’t wait to see them this year. I’ll be curled up on my couch, just as I have been for decades, waiting for that familiar burst of energy when the Rockettes take the stage. And even though I am not that child any longer the smell of turkey and stuffing will be drifting from my kitchen. Even now, the anticipation feels the same. The couch is my perch, the coffee mug my companion, and the Rockettes my signal that the holidays have officially arrived. Watching them is like opening a time capsule, connecting me to every Thanksgiving morning I’ve ever known.

Trump Dished out a Pardon, Gobble and Waddle have been freed

 

I mentioned earlier that it has become a tradition in the U.S. to pardon a pair of turkeys at Thanksgiving. As skilled as Trump is at pardoning people for crimes they did commit, I worried the turkeys might not be so lucky. I half-expected him to decide they were too democratic for his taste.

But he did pardon them—and for that, I was genuinely delighted.

What surprised me most, though, was learning that Gobble and Waddle got to spend their post-pardon stay at The Willard. Gobble and Waddle, the turkeys pardoned by Donald Trump in 2025, stayed at The Willard InterContinental Hotel in Washington, D.C. on Monday, November 24, 2025, the night before the official Thanksgiving pardon ceremony held on Tuesday, November 25, 2025. They spent that night at The Willard InterContinental, a tradition that gives the birds a bit of luxury before their big moment.

Thankfully The cost of the turkeys’ stay at The Willard InterContinental is covered by the hotel itself, not by taxpayers. After the pardon, they returned to North Carolina to live at NC State University’s Prestage Department of Poultry Science. Such Lucky birds!

The Bird and the Bottle: A Thanksgiving Pairing Tale

 

Previously, I mentioned that Thanksgiving has always been my very favorite holiday of the year. Growing up, the dinner would rotate between our house and my two aunts’ homes. No one in my family really drank, though occasionally a single bottle of wine might appear on the table.

These days, we do enjoy wine with our Thanksgiving meal. I’ve done a bit of research—both online and through personal tasting—and here are a few pairings I’ve come to appreciate:

• Chardonnay (especially lightly oaked or unoaked): Complements roasted turkey and buttery sides like mashed potatoes.
• Riesling (dry to off-dry): Balances savory turkey with sweet-tart cranberry sauce and spice-laden stuffing.
• Pinot Noir: A classic pairing—its bright acidity and red fruit notes enhance turkey’s flavor without overpowering it.
• Zinfandel: Bold and spicy, great with smoked or barbecued turkey and rich sides.

This past year, I’ve become more open to possibilities, so I think I’ll serve both a Chardonnay and a Pinot Noir. That way, everyone can enjoy a glass that suits their taste, and the table will feel just a little more festive.

Football, Family, and the Battle of the Dinner Bell

Martha Stewart recently appeared on the Today Show. When asked the exact time to serve Thanksgiving dinner, her answer was 2 p.m. Sorry, no can do, Pooh! Way too early.

In my family, the timing of the Thanksgiving meal was always a lively topic of discussion—and ultimately determined by whoever was hosting. If the holiday was at my Uncle David and Aunt Em’s house, the schedule revolved around football. They were die-hard New York Jets fans and season ticket holders. So when the Jets played the Lions on Thanksgiving Day in 1972, and they happened to be hosting, football took priority. Nobody sat down to eat until 4 or 5 o’clock. If we caught the tail end of the second game, great; if not, no one really cared. The fun was in watching their household go wild over the game.

When we hosted, my mom had a very different philosophy. To her, Thanksgiving was dinner, and dinner meant 5:30 sharp. She didn’t care who was playing or when. Nibbles were available beforehand, but she wasn’t about to serve a full meal in the afternoon, clean up, and then watch people raid the fridge again by six. Once dessert and coffee were finished, the kitchen was officially closed for the night. Our family was fine with that—it meant we could enjoy the first football game in its entirety before sitting down together.

My Aunt Lila, on the other hand, took a democratic approach. She simply polled the family, tallied the votes, and served the meal at the agreed-upon time.

Whoever hosted, the meal was all about family, fun and food making Thanksgiving my favorite holiday of the year.

It would be interesting to hear what time you eat the Thanksgiving meal.  Do you agree with Martha or does your family have a more fluid approach?

No Fowl Play: Will Trump Spare the Bird

 

The story goes that in 1865, a live turkey arrived at the White House to be cooked for Christmas dinner. Lincoln's son Tad took such a liking to the bird that he named him Jack and requested that his dad spare his life. As such, the president pardoned the turkey, and from then on, it became a tradition for each subsequent president to pardon a turkey at Thanksgiving time. Lincoln, moved by his son’s compassion, spared Jack. No grand proclamation. Just a quiet act of mercy.

While Lincoln was the earliest example of pardoning the white house turkey, the official “pardon” began in 1989 under President George H. W. Bush, and every president since has continued it. 

This lighthearted ritual, known as the National Thanksgiving Turkey Presentation, has become a staple of the holiday season. Each year, the President of the United States ceremonially spares a turkey (and often a backup companion) from becoming dinner. The event typically unfolds in the Rose Garden or on the South Lawn, complete with speeches, schoolchildren, and plenty of poultry puns.

The turkeys are usually given names and in 2024, the honored birds were Peach and Blossom.  The Pardoning of the turkey usually takes place on the Monday or Tuesday before Thanksgiving.  Trump has a knack at granting pardons that I certainly hope he pardons these two turkeys.

The End of the Trilogy, But Not the Magic

The Book of Life is the third and final installment in Deborah Harkness’s All Souls Trilogy, following A Discovery of Witches and Shadow of Night. It brings the sweeping saga of witch historian Diana Bishop and vampire scientist Matthew Clairmont to a dramatic and emotionally satisfying close

This last book of the trilogy took the author two years to write. Dhe did mention that the writing process was shaped by artistic challenges and the complexity of wrapping up a trilogy that spans centuries, continents, and supernatural lore. 

 Deborah Harkness’s academic expertise in the 15th to 17th centuries is the secret ingredient that gives the All-Souls Trilogy its distinctive richness. Her deep knowledge of Renaissance history, alchemy, and early scientific thought doesn’t just inform the setting—it shapes the soul of the story.

This last book ties together the trilogy’s many threads with a mix of suspense, romance, and intellectual intrigue. It’s a satisfying conclusion for readers who’ve followed Diana and Matthew’s journey across centuries and continents.

Since this book was published, it has been developed as a series and was streaming on AMC+.  It also was found on netflix but was retired from that platform in 2025. 

The days are getting longer and chillier.  If you are up for a trilogy series that is fairly long, read the books.  If you can find it on a streaming platform, by all means, binge watch.

Slices in the City: Charlotte’s Cake Picnic

 

Who doesn’t like cake? Honestly, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t. That’s why the concept of a Cake Picnic instantly caught my attention, it’s whimsical, welcoming, and deliciously simple.

So, what exactly is a Cake Picnic? The idea was dreamed up by Elisa Sunga, a Google UX expert and passionate home baker. She envisioned a low-pressure outdoor gathering where friends could meet, share slices, and celebrate the sweetness of life—no contests, no judging, just cake.

All you need is a designated spot, a cake (homemade or store-bought), and a willingness to share. That’s it. You show up, slice into something sweet, and connect.

It began modestly, with 15 guests sharing cakes in Golden Gate Park. The first public event drew 200 people, and recent gatherings have attracted as many as 2,000. The movement has gone viral in cities like San Francisco and is spreading to Los Angeles, Minneapolis, New York—and recently, the Greater Charlotte area.

Elisa’s upcoming cookbook, Cake Picnic: Recipes for the Love of Cake & Friends, is set to release in 2026. It will feature 50 baking recipes and a guide to hosting your own confectionery gathering. Her mission is simple and sweet: to encourage play, connection, and creativity—one slice at a time.

My daughter recently discovered and attended a Cake Picnic right here in Charlotte. The turnout was fantastic and the table was overflowing with an abundance of sweet confections of every kind.

Shadow of Night: A Journey Through Time and Frustration

This book is the second in a trilogy. The first, A Discovery of Witches, which I wrote about in a previous blog, introduces Diana Bishop—a witch and scholar researching alchemy—who stumbles upon a long-lost manuscript. This magical text is said to reveal the genetic connections between humans, witches, demons, and vampires, and possibly even the secret to immortality.

Trilogies can be hit or miss. Writing a series—whether it’s three books or ten—gives an author room to develop characters and introduce new ones. Many authors structure each book to stand alone, with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Deborah Harkness, however, chose a different path. A Discovery of Witches ends abruptly, with no resolution—just a cliffhanger. There’s nothing worse than that kind of literary tease. Luckily, this second book was already out, so I eagerly picked up Shadow of Night

When I started this blog, my goal was to recommend books I’ve read and loved, ones I’d suggest to anyone asking, “What should I read next?” But I’m reconsidering. After all, changing direction is a writer’s prerogative, right? So let’s start here.

I picked up Shadow of Night expecting it to build on the ideas introduced in the first book. Instead, Harkness whisks us off to 16th-century Europe and leaves most of the original questions unresolved. That said, the concept of time travel—with the promise of returning to the present—is undeniably intriguing. Imagine seeing history firsthand rather than reading about it. If only I could borrow Dorothy’s ruby slippers and take a spin through time myself. Ha!

To add insult to injury, this book is long. I mean really long. Still, Harkness has succeeded in keeping me curious about Diana Bishop and Matthew Clairmont (not Riordan—my mistake!). 

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Floats, Family, and the First Sip of Coffee

 

The Macy's Day Parade is turning 99 this year and it has been a part of my family's Thanksgiving tradition for as long as I can remember. It first aired on television in 1952, and for me, waking up to watch it was more thrilling than Christmas morning. I know that sounds crazy, but I’m not alone—nearly 50 million people tune in each year. It’s a big deal.

For years, one of the top items on my bucket list was to see the parade live, seated right in front of Macy’s. But there was a small complication: my dad was a buyer for Gimbels. If you grew up in New York, you’ll understand—there was a fierce rivalry between the two department stores. I wasn’t allowed to shop at Macy’s. 😔

Even after my dad left Gimbels, after what felt like eons, and Gimbel's closed its doors, I couldn’t bring myself to cross that threshold. Old loyalties die hard. Funny twist, though: my next-door neighbor’s dad worked for Macy’s. She was one of the lucky ones who got to sit in the grandstand and watch the parade in person. Who knows how many times I caught a glimpse of her on TV as the camera panned the crowd?

The parade started in 1924 and was conceived by the employees of Macy's to celebrate the opening of the Macy's flagship store on 34th street. the inspiration for the parade was drawn from European carnival with floats and marchers in costume.  It also featured live animals from the Central Park Zoo.  (Those poor animals!) Inspired by European carnivals, the first parade featured floats, costumed marchers, and—believe it or not—live animals borrowed from the Central Park Zoo. (Those poor animals!)

Thankfully, in 1927, the parade traded lions and tigers for giant helium balloons. These whimsical giants brought joy to generations of children—but they weren’t without their mishaps. One of the most infamous? Barney the Dinosaur.

Barney debuted in the 1994 parade and floated along happily for a few years. But in 1997, high winds turned the parade into a balloon battleground. Several characters were damaged, and poor Barney was among them. To prevent further danger, NYPD officers had to forcibly deflate him—live on television.

By then, my daughter was five, and watching the parade had become our shared tradition. So when Barney went down, she was heartbroken. Watching her beloved purple dinosaur get ripped apart on live TV? Traumatizing.

While balloons are fun, my favorite parts of the parade are the Broadway performances, the high school marching bands, and—of course—the amazing Radio City Rockettes. They bring the sparkle, the rhythm, and the heart of New York right into our living rooms.

For my family, the Macy’s Parade has always been a cozy ritual—watched in pajamas with coffee and cinnamon rolls, it’s a moment of stillness before the bustle, a visual feast that anchors memory and tradition. 

This year will be no exception.  The Keurig is primed and ready to go and of course there will be cinnamon buns.

 

Wanderlust on Pause: A December Deferred, Suitcases Waiting by the Door

 

For the past five years, my daughter and I have planned an annual trip together—a tradition I cherish deeply. It’s precious time with my only child, and each journey has carved its own set of memories. We’ve wandered through Savannah and Charleston, explored Charlottesville and Boston, and ventured overseas to Brussels and Paris.

This year, our plan was to visit Germany for the Christmas markets and the rich history that surrounds them. But with her starting a new job, vacation time wasn’t an option. We’re hopeful for next December.

I lived in Europe for a time and had the chance to experience the Christmas markets firsthand. Back then, they were simpler—charming stalls with handmade gifts and plenty of wursts sizzling away. The elaborate culinary offerings you see today weren’t part of the scene. It was quieter, more rustic, and no less magical.

Today, German grocery stores like Aldi and Lidl offer an array of festive treats that were once only found in the Christmas markets or back in Germany itself. As a small consolation prize, I picked up a bottle of Glühwein, some sugar-and-cinnamon roasted nuts, and a box of lebkuchen.

Glühwein, if you’ve never tried it, is a sweet, full-bodied wine infused with spices and served warm. What made it so scrumptious—or at least that’s what my older brain insists, was the setting: cold air, fingers stiff from browsing stalls, and then that steaming cup of mulled wine. It warmed me from the inside out, and it simply tasted good. Back then they served it in a glass mug that you returned when you finished.  Today each market has its own beautiful mug that serves as a reminder of the places you have been.

Lebkuchen if you have never tried it, is sort of a cross between a cake and a cookie.  It is Germany's answer to gingerbread.

So, for now, I’ll sip my Glühwein on the porch, let the cinnamon linger, and dream of next December, when the markets will be waiting, and our suitcases will finally get to go. Oh yes and we will be joining them.

Stacks and Serendipity: A Love Letter to the Library

 

Some people when they chose to retire, they start to paint.  When my dad retired, he became a thespian. He started to perform in local shows and had a blast doing it. He also became a DJ for his community radio station.

My mom and dad were also great advocates of literacy and reading.  My mom was a volunteer in the NYC Library who worked with children on their reading skills.  Both of them volunteered at a NJ elementary school to help children to read.  They made it fun and and from all accounts, were popular with the young children.

Not only did they help with reading skills they were themselves avid readers and that carried over to my entire immediate family.  After sharing dinner together, all of us would disappear to our favorite corner of the house.  My Mom and Dad could be found in the family room, Dad on his favorite chair, my Mom on the couch.  My Grandmother would read at the kitchen table.  My brother and I would be up in our respective rooms.

There were no eBooks back then. We had physical books that we generally picked up every other week from the library.  The library was one of my favorite destinations. There’s a particular hush in a library that feels sacred—not silent, but expectant. It’s the sound of possibility of stories waiting to be found. Of minds lingering in quiet communication with words.

I’ve always loved old things, and the library is full of them, books with softened spines, faded checkout cards, and the scent of paper that’s lived a life.  You go in looking for one thing and leave with three others you didn’t know you needed.

To this day the library is one of my favorite places to go. Sometimes I wander the stacks without a plan, letting titles call to me like old friends. A novel with a cover that reminds me of a book I once loved. Cookbooks where I find ideas for meal planning or Do Dad Dinners.

The Monroe Township Library meant so much to my parents—they were regulars, familiar faces in every corner. At one point, the library even asked them to make a PSA. I hadn’t watched it in years but revisiting it now felt like opening a time capsule. I wanted to share it with you—not because it’s polished or profound, but because it’s joyful. Here is the link Monroe township library. I thought I would share it with you. Another example of my Dad expressing his thespian side.

I also want to recommend a book that I enjoyed, The Library, by Susan Orleans a captivating blend of true crime, history, and personal reflection that centers around the devastating 1986 fire at the Los Angeles Central Library. I found it to be a love letter to libraries and to the people who keep them alive.

Holiday Hosting Hack: The Pull-Apart Pie

 

As the holiday season approaches, so does the art (and occasional chaos) of entertaining. Of course, we all want to please our guests—but dessert? That’s where things get tricky.

Why dessert? Because Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners tend to follow tradition: turkey, ham, maybe a roast. Mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, sweet potatoes—the usual suspects. But dessert? That’s a whole different story. Especially when it comes to pie.

Let’s set aside sweet potato and pumpkin for a moment. I’m talking fruit pie. I love apple. But half my relatives swear by blueberry. So, I find myself in a pie-based moral dilemma: I’m making dinner, so shouldn’t I choose apple? But then I think, all the Smiths and Youngs love blueberry, and I want to be a good host.

Enter a brilliant idea I discovered thanks to Delish: the Pull-Apart Pie. It’s genius. You make (or buy) multiple pie fillings, create open pockets with pie crust, bake, and you’ve got a pie sampler. Everyone gets the flavor they love, and I don’t end up with three half-eaten pies lingering in the fridge.

It’s festive, flexible, and solves the great pie debate with style. Honestly, it might become my new tradition.

Here is the link for pull-apart pie

In Pursuit of the Perfect Croque

Croque Monsieur served at Land & Monkey Turenne in the Marais arr.

There’s a well-known line: “Man shall not live by bread alone.” It’s a partial quote from the Bible, appearing in both the Old and New Testaments. Bread, in this context, symbolizes the essentials—food, shelter, money, the things that keep us alive. While the statement carries deep spiritual meaning, I’m taking it quite literally here. And I’d like to amend it slightly: Women shall not live by bread alone, either.

That said, I’m perfectly happy to eat bread alone. There’s nothing quite like a fresh, crusty piece—warm from the oven, golden at the edges, and fragrant enough to stop conversation mid-sentence. But what elevates this already delicious staple to something truly sublime? Cheese.

Recently, I traveled to Paris. Yes, I wandered the charming streets, admired the architecture, and soaked in the beauty of the city—but I also had a mission: to find the perfect croque monsieur, France’s answer to grilled cheese. It’s a glorious union of bread, cheese, and ham, often topped with béchamel and broiled to a bubbling finish. A sandwich, yes—but also a statement. Proof that bread alone may sustain, but bread with cheese? That’s living.

I know I have previously spoken about favorite sandwiches, one being the reuben.  But I think the grilled cheese will always hold the number 1 place in my heart.

The Perfect Croque Monsieur

This French bistro favorite is elegant comfort food, with layers of richness and a crisp, golden finish:

• Bread: Sturdy white bread—soft but strong enough to hold the fillings.
• Ham: High-quality, thinly sliced cooked ham—Jambon de Paris is the gold standard.
• Gruyère Cheese: Nutty, melty, and deeply flavorful. Often used both inside and on top but feel free to change it to something else.   Just make sure the cheese melts well so the sandwich is ooey gooey.
• Béchamel Sauce: The creamy crown jewel. Made with butter, flour, milk, and a touch of nutmeg and white pepper. Some recipes melt Gruyère into the sauce for extra decadence.
• Dijon Mustard (optional but magical): A whisper of sharpness inside the sandwich to cut through the richness. I personally omit the mustard.  I am not fond of the taste of it.
• Butter: For toasting the bread to a golden crisp, like a French grilled cheese with a PhD.

Just a small tip: Spread béchamel on top of the sandwich before broiling—it creates a bubbly; golden crust that’s pure joy.

I am still on my quest for a good croque monsieur.  I will keep you posted!

And by the way, tell me if you have ever eaten a croque monsieur and your opinion of it.