Country Companion

A ride in a Jeep, a manicure, baking not once but three times and pajamas until noon. While this long weekend had many city dwellers jetting off to the sun or slope, I took a 45 minute train out to the country for a vacation away from the Subway where my toes could warm up by the fire. The best surprise of the whole weekend was my partner in crime who showed up - the perfect companion to make decisions with. We discovered a new candy store in town and went off-roading for an adventure. Who knew that an antique store could produce hysterics over a china doll and an ornate ladle?

Back on the Subway with numb feet I wish he were with me to argue over whether to order in or cook. My guess is he would suggest ordering in...

Next time Gator, we are going to the Ferrari dealership. Until then, I'm just a text away.

All kinds of Cupid

Cupid works in many ways. How appropriate that in NYC today there was a heat wave of 45 degrees to show the love? Back to the chill tomorrow but for now we dream of the daffodils that bloom along Park Avenue. Love to all of my Valentine's.

Sunday funday

Brunch with wonderful friends on Sunday is a tradition worth repeating. I hosted today and had fun with adding a touch of pink and red in anticipation of tomorrow. My dear mother even lent me the white table runner with red embroidered hearts on it that we used every year growing up at our annual tea. Of course, I have no pictures of that with the strawberries and whipped cream on top (a huge hit and oh so easy). But the girls felt right at home when they saw the vintage reminder. The menu was yummy but not fussy. I wanted to hear every last hilarious anecdote that was in the room. In a new york city kitchen, I opt for being organized, having everything ready ahead of time. I even use my kitchen floor as a potting room!

The menu included old fashioned crumb cake, bacon and brown sugar baked around a breadstick (your guests will beg you for the recipe - I worn you it is addicting!), fruit and cheese, strawberries and whipped cream, and of course heart-shaped cookies. Oh, and how could I have a brunch without offering a mimosa or two?

My favorite part about being hostess for brunch on Sunday in the city with the girls - I welcomed them in my bare feet. 

A few preliminary pics, though as I was taking them, the doorbell rang and well, the rest is history...Happy Sunday!

The "potting room"

The results of my indoor gardening

When cleanup time came, there was only rind and board left

Just a little chocolate to put in their pockets for the subway ride home

New name, new place, same feet

Change. Change is good. The story behind the change comes in a wave of additions to my life (more to come on those later). Superficially, the more friends' blogs I read, the more self-conscious I become about mine. Self-esteem meter: need no reminder Mum, to have a little faith in myself. But I have been trying to figure out what I have to say and how that has any business belonging on a blog (the verdict's still out). The new title reflects my adventures (or lack there of) and thoughts as my life continues in New York City. Fear not Father, I know how to spell barefoot. My version is purposely spelled as a play on words with my nickname, Bear (witty? why - thank you). The idea is to bare my fears, frustrations, fortunes and flirtations as time walks on. While I still promise to try something new on a regular basis and stretch beyond my comfort zone, I have a few new intentions for this here writer.

Most notably, to be honest: vulnerability is a good thing and part of the concept behind the title makeover. When barefoot, I am exposed to what lurks on the floor and to people's comments about my weird big-toe. At the same time, when barefoot, I feel most free. I can wiggle my toes. Wherever possible, you will find me sans soles (that is of course, unless I am in my red-soles).  I prefer to kick around anywhere that allows with my toes free from shoe, even in the office. The city can be overwhelmingly lonesome. Sometimes admitting feeling scared and vulnerable is harder for me than pretending to be strong. That will change I hope, here.

Being barefoot also requires taking risks. I am a creature of comfort and habit, of routine and control. I only like to be barefoot under my conditions and only when I am in a clean environment. While I hardly promise to go waltzing around the streets in bare feet ruining my pedicure, I vow to be a bit more footloose and fancy free. I will let you in on the best places to get pedi's (one of my favorite indulgences and key to keeping tootsies from getting sore). And I promise to be authentic to myself, without worry of what the polish trend is of the moment.

I will share all of this with you under one condition. I seek experiences not pity. I hope you laugh along when I stub my toe. If I make you tear, I hope you feel as good as I do after a long cry. This is about a bare bear, feet first. Happy reading.