Seasons Change

by | Sep 1, 2012 | Blog, Life Lessons | 0 comments

Today is the first day of September.  I love this month because I love the fall season.  We got married in September. The days are warm, the nights are cool and fall is change.  Change is good.

Today was the last week my daughter worked at Saratoga Racetrack.  We dropped her off and I watched he walk away and deep down I was scared.  Scared that so much time had passed and this beautiful young woman was once a baby who needed to be held and babied. Now she tells me my hair looks good and shares her pretzels with me while we chat about life.  Real life, no longer the life of Teletubbies and Barney.  When I leave her at the track, I am nervous and she promises me she will be smart and safe. (and yes Amelia, I know there was no security guard there with you, ha! but thanks for trying to make me not worry)

Chip and Jack and I drove up to Sacandaga this afternoon for lunch at the I Go Inn.  The leaves on the maple trees are changing and the breeze a bit cooler, even in the sun. They are ready to close up tomorrow until next Memorial Day.  Even the waitress seemed pleased with the warm late summer night ride she had last night on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle.  Jack entertained us with great stories as only Jack can and he mixes in some Russian and Korean from his self-taught lessons.  He is a wonderful, but very tall, son.  IT reminds me of the shrinking I have experienced these past two years.  Signs of the seasons of life change.

So now while the boys are doing their thing, I went to get my nails done.  I love the names they give the colors and sadly my menopausal mind cannot remember the name of the rich brown color that now dons my toes.  I still wear Bubble Bath on my fingers. A contrast of spring and fall.

I am off to pick Amelia up and take a last look at Saratoga in the summer.  Chip is ready to prepare a spectacular pizza on the grill tonight with pesto, goat cheese, pancetta and sun dried tomatoes. Yummy.

A night by the chiminea and the last signs of that beautiful full blue moon and I am ready for back to school. At least now they don’t see me cry when the bus pulls away on that first day.  They are too busy chatting with friends and listening to music. 

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About Me

KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
Pasta on the Floor is different for everyone. It is a recipe that tells a story and inspires them to try something new. For others, stories of family, joy, loss, and hope engage with them. This brings me a great deal of happiness. I do not take myself too seriously, so be forewarned the subject matter is open and truthful. In many ways, Pasta is a tale of life, and I think you will find familiarity and commonality as you scroll through these pages.

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