Inn of the Governors

The Inn of the Governors on West Alameda is where my maternal grandparents used to stay in the '60s and '70s when they'd visit Santa Fe, which was often. There is a cozy, homey ambiance here. You feel it as soon as you enter the lobby, where they have a lovely sherry and tea hour every afternoon from 4 to 5.

Three kinds of sherry, dry, medium and sweet. I tried them all.

Sunlight floods the lobby at sherry time.

My "superior king" room (with balcony) is ultra-spacious and airy, and the rustic decor features wrought iron fixtures and handsome black and tan carpet.

There are thoughtful little touches throughout....

5-stars: Magnifying makeup mirror

Large dispensers of Gilchrist and Soames shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the shower.
(No little bars to unwrap or bottles to drop.)

Nightlights. It's the little things, people.

The Inn enjoys high Trip Advisor ratings because of its ideal location and relatively affordable rates (which include a hot breakfast) and Del Charro, their lively (and cheap) bar and restaurant that's a favorite among the locals.

The house margarita, with shaker, equals about 2-1/2 margaritas. Proceed with caution.

The real silver of Santa Fe

When someone says "silver" in Santa Fe, you immediately think of the beautiful Indian jewelry sold all over this town. What I've noticed, however, are the number of women with gorgeous silver hair walking around, far more than I've seen at home or anywhere I've traveled. Here are just three examples of women I met who are rocking the gray. Here's to the natural look, Santa Fe style!

Spa receptionist

Art gallery associate

Artist and curator

Santa Fe School of Cooking

Before leaving Santa Fe for Taos, I was fortunate enough to get schooled in the art of making chile rellenos at the Santa Fe School of Cooking.

The fabulous, high-tech classroom at the Santa Fe School of Cooking

Relleno is Spanish for "filled" or "stuffed" and our teacher/chef, Michelle, showed us four ways to make this Mexican classic.

Making a beer batter which was almost as light as tempura. The secret: Lots of warm egg whites.

 The class was hands-on and a lot of fun, and I learned basic cooking tips I never knew including never hit the edge of the bowl with your spatula when folding in egg whites, always refrigerate garlic, and Monterey Jack was a real guy from Monterey, California, who invented the cheese.

The class was divided into three groups so each team could make two recipes and easily observe the other two recipes being prepared.

Filling the ancho chiles with chorizo, refried beans and Monterey Jack cheese.

Cream cheese stuffed jalapenos, ancho chile rellenos with chipotle tomato sauce, chile rellenos and chiles en nogada.

At the end of the three-hour class, we got to sample the fruits of our labor (the chile pepper IS a fruit, not a vegetable) with complimentary beer, wine or delicious iced tea. Highly recommended.

Eat, play, spa - Yes, Santa Fe, there is a Virginia.

From 7th to 12th grade, I attended Loretto Academy in Kansas City, run by the spunky Sisters of Loretto. It was a progressive and innovative, all-girls school and I loved the nuns who taught there. (Most of them, anyway.) So, when I learned that my beautifully appointed treatment room at the Spa at Loretto used to be a classroom in the old Loretto School in Santa Fe, I felt right at home.

The room looked just like this. Clawfoot tub, private bathroom with shower, gorgeous old pine floors.

The spa director set me up for a Mindful Massage. "Oh, you have Virginia," the spa receptionist said. "You're going to love her."  I wondered if there really could be too much of a good thing. Four spa treatments in four days? How impressed could I be? An hour later, I was telling Virginia that she was put on the planet to rub people and that it was the best massage I ever had. Some people are simply gifted and Virginia is one of them. Highly recommended.

Last day in Santa Fe...no agenda

With no itinerary except a dinner date with a new friend, I'm making it a resort day with a brief shopping session thrown in this afternoon. La Posada de Santa Fe is known as the art hotel which ensures that, everywhere I roam, I will be surrounded by fabulous works of local and regional art selected by the resort's own curator.

And the food at Fuego Restaurant is a work of art, too.

Benedict del Mar Verde

Southwest Omelet (dig the little jam and butter plate!)

After eating a hearty breakfast, one can walk off the calories on the expansive grounds or in the well-equipped workout room.

That doesn't necessarily mean that I will...but it is nice to know it's available. I'm leaving my options open today.

Boomer Girl Review: Ultimate Oriole Feeder

I've still got a way to go before I'm feeding pigeons on the steps of St. Paul's (which I never thought was a bad thing to do in your old age, especially if Mary Poppins was your friend.) Nevertheless, my life is slowly but surely going to the birds. This year, I've decided to become one with the orioles which is a different game than the cardinals and hummingbirds. Orioles like oranges and grape jelly and nectar that's not as sweet as hummingbird nectar. (I assume, because they need to wash down the sugar in that sticky grape jelly.)  They also like the color orange, which makes sense since they themselves are orange in color. And, you know what they say about birds of a feather. Or, something like that. I was assured by the old man at the feed and seed store that the "orioles are going crazy" this year so I invested 20 bucks in a bright orange feeder, guaranteed to bring 'em in from all over.

Now, when you put "Ultimate" in your brand name, you create high exceptions. But, this baby delivered on the morning of Day 2 in my backyard!

My first visitor!!

Hey. When you're a work-at-home freelancer, you get pretty excited when anyone drops by: human, canine or avian.

Brooklyn. baby.

This is the first of three trips I will make to Brooklyn/NYC this year. My first grandchild is pending delivery in May and what better reason to visit the Big Apple?  I couldn't miss my once-in-a-lifetime chance to attend a baby shower on a New York City rooftop. So, I arrived prematurely, which is permissible for grandmothers-to-be if they're invited, which I was.

Tye-dyeing burp cloths on a roof in the Flatiron District.

My daughter and I flew non-stop on Southwest into LaGuardia uneventfully UNTIL we hit the taxi queue which looks a lot like Disneyland on any given Saturday due to construction at LGA's Terminal B. Note to self: Try Delta next time.

Happy to finally arrive at our hotel, The Henry Norman.

We stayed at our go-to hotel in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Greenpoint, The Henry Norman - on the intersection of, you guessed it, Henry and Norman.

We love, love, love this place, as do an eclectic collection of guests including the stars of TV shows shooting on sound stages in the neighborhood. In the lobby the next morning, my daughter and I chatted up an actor from a certain Netflix series that shall remain nameless because he swore us to secrecy. 

Then, it was off to Eataly in the Flatiron District, Mario Batali's Italian superstore and multi-level food court. This is Birreria on the roof, kind of a casual apres-ski cafe in the Italian Alps concept. Phenomenal polenta bar.

Unwrapping gifts inside the recording studio. 

The shower was in a cool recording studio in the Gramercy Park Media Arts Building, an indoor/outdoor setting that took full advantage of the perfect "Springtime in New York" day.  Afterward, it was back to Greenpoint for the aunt to-be's first tattoo...

Because, when in Brooklyn....

Boomer Girl Review: The Original Sleep Sound Machine

The unassuming little device, in black, in its bedroom nook. 

While the college kids in town were away on spring break last week, the wildlife in our yard was getting down with a raucous ritual of their own. That's right, gentle readers. It's mating season in BoomerGirl's wild kingdom, a noisy affair that goes on night after night, week after week until - voila! - adorable babies arrive in May.

In March, it's the owls. Barred owls, to be specific, which sound something like this when they're, as the kids in Cancun say, hooking up:

Kind of charming and natural, in a way, right? In the daylight, yes. But, not if you have sleep issues. Because these owls go at it all. Night. Looooong!

I'm beginning to understand how important sleep is to one's longevity, not to mention sanity. So, I took the advice of a formerly sleep-deprived friend and purchased myself a device that wouldn't keep me up at night (unlike my iPhone and iPad, but that's another issue. One problem at a time.)  It's called the Original Sleep Sound machine and it is truly a game changer.

Elegantly simple, the machine has just two speeds, low and high, and allows you to adjust the sound at each level slightly by a dial on the top. The white noise it emits is soothing and full, yet somehow subtle even at the higher volume. Those owls can party all night long and I'm blissfully unaware.
Ahhhhhh.

Boomer Girl Review: Lea & Perrins Marinade for Chicken

My secret's not so secret anymore.

If you're looking for a terrific way to give your turkey gravy some zip, this is the condiment for you, my friends. My secret weapon, which is always on hand in the fridge to jazz up fish and chicken dishes, was formerly sold as White Wine Worcestershire Sauce. (I'm guessing the Lea & Perrins people couldn't pronounce 'Worcestershire' just like the rest of us.) With its delectable blend of herbs, spices and white wine, you can even deglaze a roaster pan with it, although I recommend adding more white wine to do the job.

And, yes, I am making my gravy a full day early this year. Nobody wants to relive my panic attack from last year when the gravy refused to thicken while I whisked frantically - sweat pouring from my brow - as my extended family looked on in horror.

Boomer Girl Review: Simply Christmas by Leslie Odom, Jr.

I have a hard and fast rule about not playing holiday music until we start decorating the tree on Thanksgiving weekend. This year, I made an exception. For Leslie. Because I love him. There. Now you know.

Leslie Odom, Jr., one of the stars of Broadway's "Hamilton" (which I was fortunate enough to see in New York on my 60th birthday last year) has a voice that could melt the coldest heart.  Just as melted-buttery-good as Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett, Johnny Mathis and all the greats. This delightfully under-produced album (as Christmas albums go) has only 9 songs, but each one is a gem. Oh, but don't take my word for it. Listen for yourself and, then, just for grins, watch Leslie himself singing "Autumn Leaves" as a special Thanksgiving treat....



Now, do you see why I love him? Why I'm so thankful he's in my life?

Happy Thanksgiving, Leslie! And happy Thanksgiving to you, friends!

Post-election Productivity Syndrome (PPS)

Well, here it is almost a month since I last posted. Where does the time go? Into pre- and post-election obsession, that's where. I had been so preoccupied with the presidential race, it was all I could do to perform my part-time job and the most basic personal hygiene thanks to the non-stop storylines and spin. I'm a self-confessed news junkie, but it felt less heaven and more hell. Still, I couldn't cut it off.

Then, something happened on Election Night that was nothing short of an ah-ha moment. As I sat there Tuesday evening, clutching a Bota Box of Redvolution (highly recommended) between my legs, I said to myself, "BoomerGirl, you need to go to bed before they call this thing. Your eyes are puffy enough without the ugly cry. Then, get up in the morning, make yourself a pot of coffee and redecorate the freaking family room."

And that's what I did, dammit.

While they marched the streets in New York....

And in my hometown...

I painted...and painted... and painted. I don't have pictures because I was too busy painting. (And, ok, stress-eating. I did a lot of stress-eating.) I love to paint. I don't know why. It's a mystery. Then, I persuaded the hubs to put down a hardwood floor. You know, because he needed to stay busy, too. I felt it.

Nine days later, all we need to do is hang some stuff back on the walls....

Including a mirror I'm staining as we speak....

Not sure if you can stain over red paint but I'm giving it a shot.

and load the rug and furniture back in. Meanwhile, I'm already stressing over what my next project will be... and the one after that....and the one after that.... for the next four years.  My dog is concerned, too.

 

We fear there's not enough paint in the world.  But, at least, while waiting for the revolution, we've got the next best thing.

Do you swear to tell the truth...?

I survived my annual physical last week which, in itself, is no small victory. This was the first year I didn't "cram for the test," as my son would say. The 35-year-old man-of-sudden-wisdom recently challenged me, saying: "Mom. How will you know what's really going on with you if you act like someone else for a month before your exam?"

Hard to argue with logic like that. And, okay, it's probably not the best idea to curtail all of one's bad habits (drinking booze, eating carbs and couch-surfing) weeks before the "well person visit" in hopes of ace-ing the lab work and avoiding bad news.

But it was working for me so well, dammit!

This year, I changed nothing about my lifestyle (which is, admittedly, a lot healthier than it used to be, Shiraz and carbs notwithstanding,) bit the bullet and had my blood drawn. I answered all of my doctor's questions truthfully and took my lumps when applicable. ("You know wine has calories, right?" "Yes, doc, I'm aware.")

And, you know what? I still aced the test! Sure, my weight's not where it should be and I have a long way to go at the gym, but my numbers are all within normal ranges! And, at 60, that's reason to celebrate.

And celebrate I did....  over a big order of shrimp risotto and a huge glass of wine.

Here's to your health, friends! And, remember to always tell the truth.

Going GF OR Thank God for TJ's Oatmeal

     I've officially - and finally - declared myself 100% gluten free. I've been in d'Nile for months (it's a long river, doncha know) but reality literally gut-punched me for the last time this past weekend when I ate a negligible amount of breading on fish and felt like a miserable, gassy presidential candidate for two days. I'm 60. Life's too short for avoidable pain. Which is why I really should stop obsessing about the miserable gassy groper. Besides, I'm determined to keep my blog apolitical. (How am I doing?)
     Now, I'm coming to terms with my new life "without." Without pasta, whiskey, hot-out-of-the-oven popovers on Christmas Eve, cake, fried chicken....the list is depressingly long. But, hey, I'm a creative and resourceful person. A former reporter, for crying out loud. I can find the restaurants that accommodate the gluten-less and research the best GF recipes ever created. (They'll be the BEST, believe me! My recipe file is YUGE!)
  So, from time to time, I will be sharing a gluten-free recipe that meets my Trump-like criteria (oops) starting with the wonderful thing that has replaced my toast and saved my mornings: Magical Blender Muffins made with oatmeal. 

from Cooking Light

    Caution: Not all oatmeal is gluten free. Nor Greek yogurt, for that matter. I buy GF rolled oats from Trader Joe's and Fage Greek yogurt. Here's a list of other gluten-free Greek yogurts, fyi. 
     I've made the blueberry and coconut varieties, so far, adding my own tweaks to the batter including a scoop of vanilla protein powder, shredded coconut and coconut nectar. It's important to store them in a ziplock bag in the fridge, not out on the counter. So simple to make with easy clean up! Delicious with coffee and dense enough to hold you until lunch.
   Enjoy!

YouTube and the curse of beginner's luck

    Long before I heard George W. Bush discuss how painting had changed his life, I bought several stretched canvases at Michael's for 70% off.  I already had a basic starting kit of acrylic paints and decent brushes, sponges and stuff. So, I set everything up in my son's old room last week and decided to give the visual arts a try. (I had taken an all-day watercolor class last year and had learned many tips, including watercolor is probably not the best medium for a beginner.)

    This time, I decided to attend the YouTube School of Painting, dialed up this instructional video on how to paint birch trees with a palette knife and basically did the old monkey-see-monkey-do routine.  Five hours later, give or take, I had a painting good enough to hang anywhere....in my daughter's apartment, that is. 

My first painting.

   Motivated by her willingness to accept it and my husband's raves at my obvious God-given talent, I eagerly choose the next piece to, well, copy. This one, found on Pinterest....

  I don't need no stinking video, I thought. So, last Thursday, I went to my makeshift studio, turned on some soothing tunes, brought up the photo on my iPad and fearlessly applied paint to canvas. An hour later, I ran screaming to the kitchen for a heaping helping of comfort carbs, leaving this behind upstairs.... 

I couldn't even get the sky right!

I shall return to it some day this week, hopefully, with a huge jar of gesso and a new YouTube video. 

Did I mention George W. Bush had a private teacher? 

Friday in the Hall with George

The hubs and I took the day off last Friday to attend a convention put on by our wealth management firm.

Let me just say here that "wealth" is a relative term and of the approximate 2000 people in attendance, we were obviously in a lower tier of clientele - wealth-wise, wardrobe-wise and age-wise.  But, we thought we could learn something from the big players, maybe score some free food. And while we've never been fans, we didn't want to miss hearing what former president and keynote speaker, George W. Bush, had to say about the upcoming election.

Helicopters hovered overhead as we walked back to the convention hall after lunch. A formidable police presence surrounded the building.  It was easy to spot the Secret Service agents in the crowd because they skewed so much younger than the civilians.

And, then there was George. It was a laid-back Q & A session with the expected questions. No, he does not regret the decision to go to war in Iraq. Yes, he regrets the way he handled Katrina. And while he refused to say who he was voting for in November, it was crystal clear it wouldn't be Donald Trump.

Then, he started talking about painting, the retirement hobby that changed his life. His latest project is a series of portraits, men and women soldiers who were wounded in battle in Iraq "because of my order." They can be seen here and in a new book called "Portraits of Courage."

It was obviously an emotional endeavor for a war-time president who is still wrestling with some demons. He said he got to know each one of his subjects personally, "their stories of recovery or lack of recovery" and their families. I gotta say I was impressed.

We were told they'll invite a Democrat to next year's event.