Ben & Jen Shepard

Saturday night we went over to our friends Brigitte and Kevin’s house for dinner.  Our menu consisted entirely of middle eastern fare and involved some cooking techniques that certain cultures have been using for a thousand years.  It was an interesting experience in food history.  But looking back, I realize that it was also a celebration of friends history, which always pairs well with a great meal and good wine.

I have known Brigitte since my sophomore year in college.  I can remember my first impressions of her as we introduced ourselves as new roommates.  I distinctly recall noticing her laugh, easy and contagious.  The more I got to know her the more I discovered her tendencies toward chaos rather than order and the unconventional rather than the socially acceptable.  They showed themselves in her messy dorm room and in essays she wrote for her Creative Writing class.  But there was always an artful, whimsical curiosity when these things manifested themselves.  She seemed to always be exploring the world.  And instead of clashing with my more reserved, cautious nature, her friendship complemented and broadened me.  I think we have rubbed off on each other some in the years we’ve changed into adults.  She has helped me become more open minded and laugh more easily at myself and at the world.  I think maybe I have helped her be more purposeful, or at least see the value in a tidy house.

For dinner, Ben and I brought over a few ingredients but Brigitte and Kevin did most of the cooking.  Our table was set with tabbouleh, couscous and laban, which is essentially a thick sweet yogurt, a staple in Lebanese cooking.  There was also falafel, which I first had in Amsterdam, Holland while I was there with my youth group in 2000.  We stuffed pita bread with the laban, which holds everything together (like the sour cream in a taco), tabbouleh and falafel, then dipped it in the couscous.  Delicious!  To top it off, Brigitte made Turkish Coffee, a process which I, a devout coffee lover, found fascinating.  It tasted much more bitter than regular coffee, but with a little sugar it took on a rich depth that went perfectly with dessert.  The cake was Semolian…get this…Sfoof cake.  Sfoof.  You know you want to say it again.  Sfoof cake can be sweet or less so depending on how much sugar you add.  It’s bright yellow due to the turmeric and the texture is something like cornbread.  A lovely ending to a lovely meal.

We have always enjoyed cooking together, Brigitte and I, especially for our friends.  We’re both Italian, so it comes naturally.  Saturday night’s dinner seemed to me like pulling some old portion of our college life out of the shadowy cupboard and into the present to be enjoyed.  To celebrate not just how things used to be, but the familiar comfort that they have always been this way.

Only two more days left in Florida before we face the Fargo that we call home.  What better way to ward off the anticipation of snow and cold than with a day at Siesta Key beach?  The sand at this beach is very unique – it feels like sifted flour under your feet and it always stays cool.  I kept thinking to myself as I walked barefoot next to the tide, “It’s January.  It’s really JANUARY.”

I think if I lived nearby a beach like this I would go running or walking every day.  It’s so welcoming.  The water tantalizes you, coming close and then dashing back into the Gulf.  It just begs you to come out and play.  I am sure that a lot of it has to do with the vacation nature of this visit, but there is something about the ability to be outside in great weather all year round that is absolutely invigorating!

And I apologize for throwing so many photographs at you, but they really do a much better job than my words ever could of conveying how beautiful the beach is…and how funny Ben’s special photograph face is…

Let’s get this right out of the way…

I’m the procrastinator, that’s always been true.  And Jen is the snow bunny, to her utter surprise this is a new title she can wear with pride.

We had one weekend in Buffalo between our return from the Holiday season and our trip to Florida.  I’ve been itching to get back to Kissing Bridge for some snowboarding.  Jen and I are always looking for activities that we both enjoy that can get us out of the house and give us some exercise.

If you’ve spent 5 minutes talking to Jen about life in Buffalo you know that cold weather is not her bag.  None-the-less I asked whether or not she would be willing to come up to the mountain with me to give snowboarding a chance.  To my surprise, she said yes! It was reluctant yes, but it was a yes!

Beautiful Winter Day in WNY

We planned to spend the day with our friends Jay and Kerrie.  When we arrived the weather was great, not too cold and big beautiful snowflakes were falling steadily.  While renting our rides Jen’s nerves started to become visible.

We started on the bunny hill, the right place for any green boarder, but in order to get up the hill you have to tackle the J-bar.  This little invention is harder to manage than the hill itself.  But, after an hour or two practicing various techniques at the bottom of the hill, she gathered enough courage to face the J-bar and the rest of the hill.  Aside from the strain and struggle of getting dragged along sideways by a tow cable, she had no problem traversing the entire hill without incident.

It only took one more trip up the J-bar before I was able to convince her that it would be easier to get on the chair lift and have a nice long enjoyable ride down a green circle than it would be to keep going up and down the beginner slope.  So up we went.

There was a little bit of comedy coming off the chair lift when Jen tried to exit with her board perpendicular to the little hill at the top.  And even though we asked, the lift operator did not slow the chair down for this first timer. Never the less she refused to fall down then, saving that sort of fun for the next 30 minutes.  I’m proud to say that with only a few hours of training she bravely made it to the bottom of the mountain, exhausted and a little bruised from the trip.

By this time it had grown dark and Jen decided once was enough and that the lodge was more enticing than the chairlift. So Jay and I made our way up the mountain for our first real run of the day.

At the top, while I waited for him to strap into his board I noticed a small path cutting through the woods from the start of the trail, which met back up with the main path after a small bend.  I took it eagerly, thinking I’ll just wait for Jay on the other side.

Just before the little path intersected the main trail, a small brook ran slushy down the mountain.  Having come this far and with no other way to go I was forced to surf through, after which I dropped to my knees to wait for Jay to catch up.  Little did I know I was about to learn a valuable lesson about snowboarding.  Don’t ever let your board get wet…

When Jay came riding around the bend I jumped up to get moving, but my board was glued to the snow.  Not sure what was wrong at first, I stepped out of my bindings to find an inch of snow stuck to the bottom. Needless to say, my excitement quickly dissipated and I spent the next 20 minutes melting the ice off the bottom of my board with my breath and bare hands, while Jay went on down the mountain.  After that, it was pleasant…

While walking back to the car we passed a large trail map and took a look at the hill Jen had come down.  Turns out it was a blue square…  Whoops.  But now that’s even more reason for her to be proud of herself and her first time out doing something she thought she’d hate.  Just for me.  And even after all that she promised she’d go out again!

Irony.  It’s when a Buffalonian escaping the sub-zero temperatures at home flees to Florida where the people are all bundled up in gloves and hats and jackets against the unbearably cold 60-degree weather.  56 with the windchill.  It’s tough not to laugh a little.

This happened about a dozen times yesterday.  Most people who actually commented to us on the chill didn’t really have much to say when we told them it was minus-5 in Buffalo and that 60 degrees was actually a dramatic improvement.   They just sort of stared at us.  I guess I can’t blame them.  Why someone would choose to live anywhere that sees minus-5 must seem to them like its own brand of crazy.

Despite the “cold” here, Ben and I are having a lot of fun visiting my parents in their new condo.  The place is still mostly unfurnished but they are fervently working on decorating it.  Their bedroom already looks awesome.  It’s the first matching brand new bedroom set they have ever owned in 38 years of marriage.

We still have almost a whole week here to look forward to.  Today was sunny and warmer and the temperature looks like it’s only going to improve.  Here are some pictures of us and of the condo.  Vacations are so awesome!  That’s pretty much all this Buffalonian is thinking about right now!

Since I didn’t post anything about our Christmas and New Year’s vacation yet, I wanted to at least put up some pictures.  It was a really nice vacation and we enjoyed the time with our families.  It’s amazing how a few days with the right people can make you feel so refreshed and revived.

There is a thing I want more than anything in the world, that makes my heart literally feel as if it is melting inside me.  My ideal life is full of them, running, grazing, lying under a warm summer sun.  My heart feels full when I am close to horses.

Helen Thompson said that “In riding a horse we borrow freedom.”  I have found this to be profoundly true.  Horses are not what most people think.  Even most “equestrian” people usually don’t fully understand what their horse truly is.  My experience with horses and people who thought they understood them started when I was four.  Over twelve years of practically living at the barn I saw and learned a lot about how to ride, how to groom, how to look good in a show ring.  Years later, I have come to understand that success in competition is not an indication of good horseman (or -woman) -ship.  But more on that in another post.  I think that the most essential part of it I learned from the horse himself.

Somehow horses are uniquely suited to be excellent teachers to us humans about the most important parts of our humanity.  You cannot fool a horse with the facades that succeed in convincing other people that you are something you’re actually not.  Horses are far too honest to let you lie to yourself about such things, let alone lie to them.  If you are not up front with a horse, and therefore with yourself, about who you are he will most likely do you the favor of showing you.

There was one horse in particular who taught me more than I could ever repay him for.  His name was Harmony and we were inseparable.  I can remember during one riding lesson, the instructor asked us to jump a fence that to me looked impossible.  I had never jumped that high and I was so terrified that I pulled up in the middle of the course, shaking and on the verge of tears.  Harmony felt it, I’m sure.  He knew I was petrified.  But I think he also knew that I needed to overcome this obstacle, and that deep down, I really wanted to.  The instructor pushed me to keep going.  With all the other kids watching, the battle between my fear and surrounding pressure to perform up to par felt like it could swallow me and my pony whole.  But in that moment I had forgotten about the courage of my friend.  When he sensed I was ready, Harmony cantered steadily toward the fence, gathered himself, and carried me soaring over the jump.  He made sure he was balanced directly underneath me so I knew we were doing this together, meeting the challenge, defeating the fear monster.  Somewhere over the space of that fence all my fear evaporated.  His courage became mine.  All I felt was freedom.

I never owned Harmony in the sense that we paid money for him and had a piece of paper to say he was mine.  But it was obvious to everyone that we belonged.  Ultimately, money was the obstical that took him away from me when the owner of the barn sold him to another stable.  The day we pulled up and I saw the trailer parked near the barn, I could not even bring myself to get out of the car.  “Do you just want to go?” my mom asked quietly.  I nodded, tears already streaming.  Although I rode several more years at that barn, for me there was never another horse to equal him.

When I was young and asked what I wanted for Christmas, I really did say “a pony.”  (Usually I still do).  One day soon I will have horses of my own.  My greatest desire is to rescue as many as I can from abuse, neglect and worse.  They have given so much to humans, especially this one.  I have indeed borrowed freedom from them.  In my heart I am compelled to return it a hundredfold.

“There are unknown worlds of knowledge in brutes; and whenever you mark a horse, or a dog, with a peculiarly mild, calm, deep-seated eye, be sure he is an Aristotle or a Kant, tranquilly speculating upon the mysteries in man. No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses. They see through us at a glance…But there is a touch of divinity even in brutes, and a special halo about a horse, that should forever exempt him from indignities.”

~ Herman Melville