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I have a surprise for you.

This week, there will be no snow….no kids….no lake….no booze….no feast. I know, I know, why muck with tradition. But sometimes you need to shake things up. Show some diversity. Act like you have a life beyond your four walls and backyard.

New York is an interesting place. Yes, it’s the big, bustling city that we all know. But in many respects it’s like a village. You bump into your neighbors, know your mailman on a first name basis, say hello to the Super who works a few buildings down the street.

Often, particularly if you have no reason (work, school, etc) to get outside of your neighborhood, you become complacent and live within a 1-mile radius. Everything you need – good restaurants, dentists, doctors, movie theaters, food shopping, toy stores – is right there. Quite literally, there is no reason to leave. Except for the guilt that reminds you that you chose to live in this city for everything that exists beyond that 1-mile radius.

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I took these photos a few weeks ago when I visited the Union Square farmer’s market. Union Square is right next to Chelsea, a 10-15 minute walk depending on my energy level; but sometimes, particularly in the winter, it feels like a trek. It’s just so darn cold, and ordering my groceries on Fresh Direct with the click of a button is too darn easy.

But I miss it. I miss the market and its earnest farmers. I miss the conversations about weather and yield. Most of all, I miss the heirloom varieties of radish, squash, turnip and carrot, in colors that range from vibrant purple and forest green to maize and garnet and goldenrod.

So here, without further ado, are a few photos from my latest visit to the Union Square farmer’s market. Which had me buying so much produce that I was forced to hail a taxi for the return trip to my apartment. Always a good sign.

If you’re in New York, or any city for that matter, pay a visit to your local farmer’s market. Prime season is coming up soon, but it’ll be a few more cold weeks before we get there. I’m sure that your local farmers would appreciate the love.

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Winter_storm_juno_nyc_new_jersey_FeedMeDearly (19)
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“Why are there handcuffs on my kitchen counter?”

[silence]

“Guys, this room is a mess, can you help me clean up?”

[silence]

“Does anyone want some hot chocolate before I pour my booze into it?”

Just a few of the conversations that happened over a very long 36 hours that was, according to Twitter, Instagram and all of the hashtag-using entities: #snowmageddon #winterstormjuno and the #blizzardof2015

Also known as….just your average Tuesday….or most hopefully, Chad Myers’ swan song.

Although it would be sad to see meteorologist Chad Myers go. I eagerly turn on CNN whenever we’re in the face of an impending storm. Simply to see him wild-eyed and foaming gently at the corners of his mouth, talking about Arctic highs and barometric drops. And, I might add, sourcing every other word from World Wrestling Entertainment. With all of the slamming, rocking, and pummeling, we could alternatively be talking about a Guns ‘n Roses concert or a fracking expedition in North Dakota.

So who hangs out with me couch-side when I’m watching these Emmy-worthy performances? That’s where it gets complicated.

Every television show needs its own tactfully-chosen viewing partner. It’s best to watch the tube with someone who’s properly attuned the show’s comedic vision. For ABC’s “The Bachelor”, that viewing partner is my husband. Some of our finest moments as husband and wife have been on the couch, glass of red in hand, voicing suspicions about who’d illegally snuck into our bachelor’s tent after hours. If I were to prioritize, watching these television moments together rank lower than the birth of our children, but might top our trip to South America.

For CNN – and yes, CNN does have a comedic vision…it just doesn’t know it yet – that viewing partner is my Mum.

Rodney, despite his strengths as a Bachelor accomplice, doesn’t think that CNN is funny. A wind-whipped newscaster plunging a yardstick into 3 inches of snow isn’t funny. Don Lemon riding around in the “Blizzardmobile” through the night, investigating a most unstory of stories, isn’t funny. Chad Myers yelling at his fellow newscasters and spiking his script on the ground, isn’t funny.

My Mum, bless her heart, thinks it’s hysterical. Which is why when a storm bears down on the East Coast, we swap phone calls and exchange notes – “did you see the woman with the giant thermometer?”

We’re lucky when we get to watch CNN together in person, which doesn’t happen as often as we’d like these days. So we’re forced to chat virtually; the silver lining of our phone conversations is that she doesn’t have to wonder whose handcuffs are lying on the kitchen counter (let the record state that they belonged to Sam) …or witness the mess that our living room becomes after 36 hours indoors. Or, heaven forbid, see with her bare eyes how much booze gets poured into my hot chocolate.

Some things are better left private. Others…well I’m happy to share a few moments from our experience with Winter Storm Juno last week:

The actual storm before the storm…
(Really, if there was a storm, it happened two days before Winter Storm Juno. Don’t ask me why this storm didn’t get a name…. Weathercasting is confusing even before you even start talking about divergent models and barotropic systems)

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It’s December 29, just a few short days before New Year’s Eve. I’m spent from this holiday. In a good way…but suffering from that specific type of exhaustion that comes from raising young kids.

Today was more of the usual: we made breakfast, we cleaned. I cleaned. We got dressed for skiing. We drove to the ski resort where the green Magic Carpet still isn’t open. I walked their skis up the bunny hill. I chased them down. I yelled “pizza not French fries! Don’t forget the pizza!” They prefer French fries. Skis railroaded, out of control, heading towards netting, SLOW signs and other beginners. Nobody was injured, at least not today.

I drove back home. They took naps while I dreamt that one day, I might be able to take one of those again.

I went grocery shopping. We made sandwiches for dinner. Sam no longer likes avocado. Emma no longer likes crusts. Fortunately she doesn’t ask me to cut them. She just rips them off her sandwich and scatters them onto the floor. Crusts no longer interest Jackson either. He sits and waits for the high-ticket items: the dropped turkey slice; the leftover cheese.

And me? I’m biding my time until 8:30PM when I can give the kids a nuzzle, tuck them in, fix myself a warm milk & Bailey’s and relax in bed with a good read. I have so many photos to share from the holidays, but I’m saving them until next week. Next week, life gets back on track, work resumes, the kids are back at school, and I can ease myself back into the business of blogging. With some exciting new directions for this space, so stay tuned.

Until then, I wanted to share with you some images that I took a few weeks ago at the launch party for the new Cooper Hewitt Museum in New York. I was covering social media that evening for Tarallucci e Vino, the museum’s new restaurant, so the images are iphone only, but still give a sense for the space. The new Cooper Hewitt Museum is housed in the old Carnegie mansion, built in 1899. The juxtaposition of old and new design is omnipresent, and highlighted by the modern Tarallucci e Vino café, which sits on the ground floor of the Museum.

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It was the Mister’s birthday last week. 5 golden years, how quickly they’ve gone. I can still remember the day he was born. I’d snuggled him close to my chest and that evening asked the nurse if all seemed OK. He hadn’t made a peep. Just slept and ate, slept and ate. In hindsight I should have recognized a little personality in the making: easygoing, not one to make a fuss.

It was with this no-nonsense attitude that he tagged along to Lauren’s doctor’s visit the day before his birthday. The older kids were off school that day, and it was a perfect opportunity to spend a few hours in Central Park…

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Eating Oreos. While wearing a Mustache sweater. It is Movember after all.

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Maybe one day his grill will look like that. For now we’ll chalk it up to a good case of Oreo teeth.

Central Park is so pretty at this time of year…..

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Did you know that wild cats live in the Park? Sam found a leopard and stalked it…

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We spent a weekend at home. No Saturday morning scramble to New Jersey, which I admit was a nice change.

But keeping kids entertained in New York City for the weekend is no small feat. That nice little sliding glass door to the backyard doesn’t exist, making it essential to plan activities with military precision. Comfortable footwear? Snacks packed? Game plan sketched?

With the grandparents in town for a visit, we hit the park at 0500 hours.

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It actually wasn’t that early, but it sounds cool.

Speaking of the military…

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