Snow Days at Norwyk Manor

Friday afternoon I reluctantly made my way to the market for extra milk and marshmallows, thinking all the time that the predicted blizzard would amount to nothing but a few disappointing flurries. 

I was beyond delighted to find myself proven wrong Saturday morning.  While the Sun was still mostly in hiding, I hopped out of bed and rubbed the condensation off of our bedroom window, revealing a heavenly white world. 

The snow was still falling, and we lingered in bed, watching the flakes kiss the windows while enjoying a sumptuous breakfast tray Mr. Pedantic had assembled.

When we had finished our tea and layered on the fleece pants, I popped some corn and baked up several dozen of Mr. Pedantic's favorite cookies.  After all, a snow day is something to celebrate. 

My hallowed father bravely fetched us in his truck, and we spent the afternoon pacing up the great hill and sliding back down again.

There is such a classic romanticism about snow days.  The charm and coziness they bring will never grow old in my mind.  

We both woke up sore the following morning.  Apparently our "young and invincible" bodies were left behind in London by mistake.  Tumbling down hills takes a much greater toll than it once did, thank goodness for restorative cocoa. 

I baked SOOO many cookies over the past few days.  It seems that nothing cures the chill of 15 degree weather better than a warm, butterscotch-studded cookie...or four. 

I packed away our Christmas ornaments this weekend but, while the tree was supposed to go along with them, the mister convinced me to keep it up a few days longer.  It's golden glow complemented the white world around us so perfectly. 

I have been tackling organization projects all week and it has felt so good.  The spice, tea, and mug cabinets have been thoroughly inspected and rearranged, and now I can open them without cringing.   

While I kept moving and did small projects throughout the days, I tried to move a bit slower over the weekend, and even found time to curl up with a blanket and just...read.  It has felt so good. 

I hope your weekend was cozy, restful, and full of memories! 

Sincerely,

Pedantic Foodie

the most lovely day...

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep

because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

- Dr. Seuss

That quote has come to mind so many times over the past year, but it was never more true than the night before my wedding.  When giddiness took over exhaustion and I realized that my life was on the verge of changing forever. 

Today marks one month.  How that is possible I could not tell you.  My mind cannot even really process that statement.  I am not sure what has happened over the past four weeks, only that they have been truly splendid and I would live them all over again in a heartbeat...if only I could.

 It's all very emotional.  

That is the only answer I can really give at this point.  That is not to say that I am crying all the time.  I am actually continuing with life much like it has always been this way, but if I stop and think, the only sensation is one of being entirely overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with joy, thankfulness, excitement, gratitude, and a dull ache for what has been lost.  As I said, it's emotional.  For now, as I still try to process all that has happened, photographs can communicate far more than words.  

I cannot stop staring at our pictures.  They just arrived Monday and I have never loved images more than I love these.  I never want to stop remembering the incredible feelings of that incredible day.  Not ever.  This Thanksgiving, I will have many blessings to give thanks for, but right now, as I gaze with blissful contentment at this computer screen, I am most thankful for the privilege of having moments in time forever frozen through images.  

So, here they are.  Our wedding day, or at least a glimpse of it. 

Pumpkin Chai for the bride, please and thank you. 

These are princess shoes.  Princess shoes that were bought one size too large, but I was determined to wear them regardless because they were just about the most beautiful slippers I have ever seen. 

I believe this was the moment where she finally realized who I was marrying.  Up until that moment she had thought Mr. Pedantic was simply my assistant.  I'm not saying she was wrong... 

If you are feeling down, look into the mind of a three-year-old.  Things are far simpler there. 

We would like to give you a sneak peak of our latest album, "Ashlyn & The Glitterets."

#ILoveMySister 

Glitter skirts.  Dear friends.  Precious memories. 

Something old.  My great grandmother's mink stole. 

Something new.  The dress that I never wanted to take off.

Something borrowed.  My mother's necklace from her own wedding day.

Something blue.  My garter, made by my very talented aunt. 

All the heart eyes. 

One last hug for our smallest of friends. 

We did. 

Happily ever after. 

Sincerely, 

Pedantic Foodie

All photographs were captured by the very talented Matthew Dejesus.  He has frozen so many moments of our lives in time through his incredible work and we will be forever grateful. 

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New York Through My Lens

Everyone sees a city a bit differently.  When I see a stranger's captured interpretation of my own city, I am often struck by how a fresh lens can transform the way I look at the world around me.  The streets I see every day, the bits of beauty I take for granted, and the quaint shops I forget to visit. 

Exactly one week ago I was returning from a weekend in the beautiful, iconic city of New York.  I had given substantial thought to how I would write about my visit.  How I would share it with you, my readers, and what my perspective could offer that thousands of perfectly curated Instagram feeds do not already deliver every day.  

I could tell you about every thing I ate and put on my food critic for a bit, or I could talk about the way the streets buzzed with ambition, hope, and wonderment.  But, you already know these things, or you could know them if you looked at a thousand other sites.  

I am certainly not knocking restaurant reviews or wanderlust-provoking travel writing.  In fact, I took advantage of my fair share of such resources pre-trip and I would be delighted to do both on this space one day.  However, when I thought about New York, I realized that what I really wanted to give you was my New York.  The way I saw it, breathed it, and lived it.  

I spent a Sunday afternoon in Washington Square Park, admiring these winsome daisies as they peaked their heads through the shade of the trees to soak in the beaming rays of warmth of which I was far less appreciative. 

I sat on a bench.  A bench that had hosted thousands of bodies before me, and I listened to a group of men, each one unique from the other, playing old school jazz in perfect synchronicity. 

I saw a piano sitting in the middle of the park.  At first, my logical, inquisitive brain tried to speculate at the amount of labor required to bring a piano into a public park, but after a few idle minutes I decided that beauty deserves no such questioning.  I buried my questions, and perked up my ears to hear the music flowing from the instrument. 

These moments were all so precious and I knew that in a week or less I would be longing to savor each one and relive them all again. 

My father though, was already a bit tired of being photographed by 9am.  

These two people are my parents and they joined me on my trek through the bustling city.  I happen to think they are pretty great travel companions, and my father is a far better navigator than I will ever be.  I'm still trying to get East and West straight.  

My mother, well she is a lovely person who will happily help you sneak pictures of the Italian waiter with the awesome mustache, if you are so inclined. 

There are so many things I could have said and so many things I have left to say, but for now, this was my New York.  Thank you for letting me share it with you. 

Sincerely,

  Pedantic Foodie

P.S.  The very best pizza in the whole entire world can be found at Luzzo's - 213 1st Avenue, New York, NY 10003.  You know I had to mention food at least once.  That's it, I'm out.