MOTHER'S DAY CONFINEMENT

 I awoke on Mother’s day 2011 at 7:30 and ready to face the day.  My husband and  younger  son were in NYC,  scheduled to meet up with us later and my older son was asleep next to me in my husband’s  and my bed.  We had gotten in late last night after a long day at a chorale competition in Massachusetts and I wanted my son to get some sleep.  Normally on Mother’s Day, I am greeted around 8am in my room by my two sons, my husband and a tray full of breakfast.  But today, with the main orchestrators out of town and a teenager in charge I had decided to stay flexible .

                After reading until  8:15, I quietly got up, got dressed, stuffed a few dollars in my pocket and headed out into my Saratoga mother’s day sunshine to walk and enjoy the views.  Maybe I’ll run into some friends as I stroll around the neighborhood.  As luck would have it, after a  mere half mile into my walk, my friend Monica is sitting on her porch with her sister –in –law.  I join them for a ten minute chat and then head on my way.  My walk turns into a bit of a jog and I stop off at the Five Points corner store for some decaf.  I try to buy the Times to accompany my decaf, but hadn’t counted on it costing $6 and don’t have enough.  I half expect the guy next to me to pick up the difference – (After all it is Mother’s Day) but that doesn’t happen.  No matter.  It’s Mother’s Day and my mood shall not be compromised.

                As I head down Clark st. towards home, another neighbor, Jeff, addresses me from his porch and I stroll over and take a seat with my decaf.  Soon his wife Margo joins me and I find myself involved in another ten minute chat.  At 9:10, I excuse myself and head home to White Street.

 I enter the back door cautiously not wanting to appear to anxious or to disturb my older son in the kitchen preparing my breakfast in bed.  No sign of him cooking, just Sponge Bob on the tele.  I walk into the living room casually and address  him using my most relaxed tone

“Good morning Joey.”

“Hey mom,”  Long pause.

“Well, I’ll be upstairs,”

“Huh?”

I’ll be upstairs” I say with an underlying tone meaning- “I’m now available for whatever you have planned.”

“Okay.” No eye contact.  Boy he’s good.

On my way back through the kitchen to the stairs I spot a half of grapefruit on the counter.  Aha. I have caught him.  I know that I didn’t leave it there and there is no way that he cut a grapefruit for himself.  I head upstairs at 9:20 with a knowing smirk on my face.

By 9:55, I am desperately bored; I’ve picked up my clothes, I’ve filed away some papers, I lifted my five pound weights, I snuck downstairs twice – once for a gluten free muffin and once for a sharpie to aid my filing tasks.  I’m tempted to call my husband but don’t want to appear like I care whether there are plans or not.  I sneak down one set of stairs one more time and peak into the kitchen to see if there is any action.  I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve trying to catch Santa.  I commit to waiting until  10 am when there is a break in the Sponge Bob action. 

I decide to water the plants and as I am watering a plant near the front stairs, I hear my son go out for the paper.   What!!  Now he is reading the comics.  My lack of need for a plan has turned into me questioning my motherhood.  I quickly review the last few days that Joey and I have spent alone together while Johnny and younger son whoop it up in NYC. 

Let’s see – Friday night we had dinner at an Italian restaurant and we played Spit and Go Fish at the table.  He seemed to be enjoying a high level of contentment.  Upon arriving home, I let him pick the movies and we watched “Taken” with Liam Neeson  in bed.  Good – Good.

The next day I chaperoned a trip to a competition and Six Flags from 7am until 10:15 pm.  As a chaperone, I asked only for one ride – the bumper cars- and let the four boys I was in charge of choose the rest of the day. I was not a pushover, as I instituted a few checks and balances to make sure each boy’s choices were acknowledged.  There was that time I jumped over the stanchion by the picture taking booth with Scooby Doo and some other animal  and the employee said “Ma’am – could you please not jump over the ropes”  Okay that was mildly embarrassing.  Let’s see – we all had ice cream, I purchased some fries for us to share while they waited in line for the ride Pandemonium.  Thoughtful!!  I let them all get air brush tattoos (nothing unseemly) and I got one too on my lower back and bent over to show everyone – Hmmm- May be that was the defining moment and the reason there was no breakfast  before me.

The phone rings and brings me out of my review session.  My husband and younger son in unison shout –“Happy Mother’s Day.”  We talk for a moment before I urgently whisper to my husband.

“What’s the plan?  It’s 10:10 and breakfast is nowhere in sight.  I’m fine without it but we need to leave about 11:30 and I need to know what is going on.”  My nonchalant tone is now gone.

My husband says that there is a plan and he will call my older son on his cell.  At 10:20, I have exhausted myself and decide to take a nap and see what happens.  I dose briefly and wake up at 11:40 noting that my situation has not improved.  I call my husband who says that my son is not answering his phone.  We decide that I should just move on and start the day.  Still on the phone, I head down the stairs to the unchanged kitchen and as my gaze shifts left, I see a plate in the dining table containing a half a grapefruit, a handful of gluten free cereal and  glass of water.  Surrounding the food are three family photos.  Wow – not the repast I had imagined but I was thought of, I was considered, I am someone’s mother.

I say a quick goodbye to Johnny, and go into the living room and say casually but directly.

“So Joey, is that food for me in the dining room.”

“Yeah mom, I’ve been waiting for you to notice.”  Deep breath on my part.

“I was waiting upstairs, so let’s eat.”

Joey follows me into the dining room and waits as I scarf down my breakfast.  He hands me a bag with three great gifts; two books on King Arthur and Sir Lancelot ( I love all that is Avalon and Arthur) and the DVD of “Romancing the Stone.”  I am pleased, my blood sugar is stabilizing and Joey seems happy but incredulous that I had not appeared sooner.

My bedroom level confinement ended, Joey and I prepare for the rest of Mother’s day.  I manage to get twelve minutes of gardening out of him and he succeeds  in hiding my gifts from me as we travel south in the car to meet my husband, younger son and in-laws for Mother’s Day.  A cool customer, he gets the job done and I had a great Mother’s Day.

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez 

KIDS AT CHIANTIS - A NATURAL FIT

Upon finding ourselves on our own one Friday evening last May, my seven year old son Lucas and I decided to go out for dinner.  I posed two different restaurants to him and after a brief consideration Lucas announced Chianti as his choice.  As he is an occasional fan of the cooking channel and a fine cook with a discerning palate, I did not question his decision. ;; It was a fine spring evening and we headed off on foot from our White Street home;  an easy 15 minute walk with a few minutes budgeted in for a young man’s wanderings.

                When we arrived at Chianti we were treated as always with smiles of warmth and recognition.  I said it would be dinner for two and presented my young companion.  Debora Zecchini, the general manager/ hostess, warned that it would be forty-five minutes to an hour for a table, but upon seeing my young dinner guest, suggested that we could be seated immediately at the Chef’s Counter in front of us.  Lucas and I nodded in agreement and Debora showed us to our seats.  The counter has three seats adjacent to the kitchen that affords its diners a perfect view of the busy kitchen.

                Presently, our server Michele appeared with smiles and words of welcome.  As we have been there on a number of occasions, being remembered by the staff is always fun for my kids.  Lucas made his drink selection of cranberry and orange juice combined and I ordered water and a glass of 2008 Salviano Turlo.  It is a Super Tuscan and is all at once complex and deeply satisfying after a mom’s long week.   After looking over the menu, my son was inspired by the cooks before us and announced that he was going to start cooking.  Upon his bread plate he combined olive oil with balsamic vinegar and added a dash of salt.  After which he dipped his bread, with great satisfaction into his creation and relished his good life: dipped bread, alone time with mom and pasta on the horizon. 

                Being seated near the kitchen prompted another inspiration for my son, and he spotted the dish that he would order.  Upon Michele’s return with our drinks, Lucas was ready and ordered pasta with prosciutto in a pink sauce, Mezzanine all Vodka.  Michele treated him with respect and took his order seriously.  He felt validated as a real diner.  I ordered a Insalate Semplice and Pollo Al Limone Candito.

                Normally while waiting for our food in a restaurant, we engage in a napkin folding contest, but tonight with the kitchen before us we had plenty of activities to fill our time.  From our handy position, we identified the salad station, the pasta area and determined who the head chef was.  In the deeper recesses of the kitchen we witnessed the burst of flames as a steak entered the grill.  Waiters and waitresses  dodged incoming customers and hurried to pick up food from the counter.  We were at the epicenter of Chiantis and loving it.

                My salad arrives and Lucas and I share the delicious plate of  greens. The Insalate Semplice is an organic field of greens with grape tomatoes, grana padano and Chianti’s special dressing.   Normally a ranch dressing fan, Lucas clearly enjoys the balsamic and olive oil based dressing.  While eating our salads, we were treated to the birthday song, sung loudly and with gusto at a nearby table by the wait staff and most notably the owner  David Zecchini.   The song is being  sung in Italian and we join in singing.  My son has taken to singing it at home loudly,  passionately and with operatic styling. 

                After the song, David spots us and comes over to say hello.  He converses with both of us asking Lucas how school is going and how our dance company is doing.   Our food arrives and David excuses himself to visit with other customers.  He appears to speak to everyone  whether they are first timers or regulars like us.

                Lucas digs into his plate of pink sauced creamy pasta with a touch of fresh tarragon, I into my Pollo Al Limone Candito.  My delicious  dish is a chicken breast pan roasted with lemon juice, shallots and candied lemon zest.   It’s light savory flavor compliments the spring weather and Lucas sneaks a bite.   For a full ten minutes my son is completely committed to the plate in front of him and does not speak or move.  Most meals at home are spent reminding him to stay seated and continue to eat.   But here and now, he maintains his seated position and is a well mannered and appreciative customer.  We enjoy our meal together.

                After awhile, Lucas slows his pace and Michele comes over to check on us.  We assure her that everything is great but we might need to take some home.  He says he can eat a little more and she comes back for our plates in a few minutes.  And now, the requisite trip to the rest room.  As we pass tables on our way people regard us with a mix of surprise and smiles.  Children are not common here but certainly welcome.

                When we return, Michele greets us with a complimentary dish of ice cream.  In the past, waiters have brought desserts  to the kids saying that it was a reward for their good behavior.  We took it at face value, but also felt that it meant “Come back again with the kids.”  Lucas who moments before, had told us he was full, looks at me with a shrug and well - goes at his ice cream with the same attention he gave his pasta.  As he is truly enjoying his dessert, I manage to only negotiate a taste or two from his bowl.  I sit back, finish my wine and wonder at my terrific evening with my young date.

                Finally, he looks at me and announces he can eat no more as he has consumed beverage, bread, salad, pasta and dessert.  I think we’re done here and we ask Michele for the check.  Lucas helps me look over and pay the check  and we head out with a final farewell from Michele and Debora.  Back out on Division St., we start our stroll home sated, happy and relaxed.

                Epilogue:  The secret to  our successful evening at a nice restaurant  with children is a combination of the restaurant and  family practices.  Our children are not the shy retiring sort and give us a run for our money at home but manage to put on their public face when we are out.  In addition they  have gone out to restaurants since they were very young and know what’s expected. Couple that with a fun welcoming atmosphere at Chiantis and the kids are happy to rise to the occasion.  They feel  a warm welcome at Chiantis and are treated with respect as valued customers and not just as appendages of us.  The message comes across  as “This is a nice restaurant and we know you will behave , but go ahead  be yourself, make a little noise, enjoy.”    Although it is certainly fun to dine out only with  adults, we are also grateful that we can enjoy an elegant evening out with the kids.

                Don’t know where to start in transitioning your children out of a “Friendly’s” evening?  Try Chiantis – believe me your children will know the difference and the boisterous atmosphere will  make them feel at home.  No kids menu but plenty of delicious kid friendly food that will prepare them to not always expect a kids menu but that everything on the menu is for them.

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez

               

               

ON SNORKELING - ON BONDING - ON BEAUTY



Spotted eagle ray viewed by author and family

       Parrot fish, tile fish, spotted eagle rays, southern sting rays, fan coral and brain coral are just a few of the wondrous splendors that we witnessed this past week when snorkeling off the coast of Culebra.  Culebra is a small remote island off the coast of Puerto Rico with pristine beaches and a protected coral reef. What makes the snorkeling here even more precious is that no hiring of a boat was necessary; we simply walked to the beach by our rustic villa, donned our masks and flippers and entered the water.  With the warm water only at our knees, we were able to crouch down, enter the water and immediately we were privy to an exquisite underwater scene.

       I have snorkeled before, but had never seen such a fully developed reef system that was home to so many different types of marine animal and plant life.  We snorkeled three times; the first was right off the beach where we lounged around having lunch and playing card games.  The water was very shallow in this area and hosted an array of small colorful fish, brilliant yellows, transparent fish and my favorite the cobalt blue and canary yellow angel fish.  Not sure which type of angel but the fin structure fit the picture in our snorkeling guide.

       Our next adventure involved a five minute walk along the rocky beach to reach a section that was deeper into the reef.  Well worth the effort.  Love the idea of putting my belongings on a shore with no other sole in sight and entering this underwater universe.  This adventure was beyond my hopes as we swam through, around and over the complex reef system teeming with animal and plant life. 

       With the help of our fins and the buoying effect of the salt, we hardly had to swim but instead can move along at a relaxing pace, that is non-threatening to the sea life and allows us to observe the wonders before us.  Johnny and I swim side by side, shoulder to shoulder, frequently pointing out a plant or fish we find remarkable. In fact, everything seems remarkable.  It is private, it is only us and it is bonding.

       Bonding because of the wonders we are seeing alone together but I suspect the potential danger plays a role as well.  Despite being overwhelmed visually, we are always aware of our surroundings.  We check Johnny’s watch before entering the water to monitor our progress in relation to the current.  Although we are not near any boats, we do pop our heads up when we hear a motor running to check its proximity.  Everything kept its distance but we stay aware.  We have checked with local people ahead of time to see if there are any marine life that could be dangerous to us and told there are no dangerous fish but beware of stepping on one of the abundant sea urchins.  Other snorkelers have told us of rays they have seen and we hope to see one despite our nervousness at encountering on.  Soon,  Johnny points out a ray floating above us to the right and later another one resting on the sea bottom.  Either a ballyhoo or hound fish swims near us and gives us a start as it strongly resembles a barracuda, but we have heard rumors of the barracuda look- alikes that swim there and we relax. 

       It is later in the day than we expected to go, the current is kicking up and we have to exit the water over rocks, so we head back in after a half hour.  We are not disappointed by the shortness of our trip as it is so jam-packed with more marine life than we could have hoped for.  Upon exiting, we vow to bring the children and grandmothers back tomorrow.

       Despite our passionate descriptions of what we have just experienced, we are only able to persuade one out of two children and one out of two grandmothers to join us on another snorkeling expedition the next day .  Around 3:30pm on Friday, we leave our villa to head down to the beach and then walk along the shore to our spot.  After securing everyone’s equipment, we awkwardly enter the water over the rocks with our fins on, but happily we are soon graceful, again as we immerse ourselves in the warm water.  Again, I am in awe of how quickly life changes.  We are not viewing an empty sandy ocean bottom but one that is filled with purple fan coral and schools of brilliant fish as soon as we submerge our heads.  Close to shore we catch sight of a twenty inch pastel parrot fish with yellow lips.



Parrot fish spotted near shore



       The day before, Johnny and I had more or less headed into new territory soon after entering the water, but we see that our eight year old and Johnny’s mom are quite satisfied to explore the immediate area.  We follow suit and enjoy my son’s frequent pointing and excitement.  Already we have experienced the same water in a new way – through their eyes.  Johnny’s mom is not as relaxed or enamored as our son and decides to exit the water but says it was great.  We ask our son, if he would like to go out further and he agrees.  The three of us move side by side, connected like mer people. More joy surges through my body. 

       Like yesterday, we are cognizant of our surroundings and have to frequently go above to adjust masks, blow out water and check for motor boats.  It is a little overcast, less clear and it looks like a ray may not appear until I suddenly see one fifteen feet below us partially buried in the sand.  We give it some space and decide to head back.  As I am debating which two reefs to go between to exit the water, Johnny suddenly taps me on the shoulder and points to a glorious spotted eagle ray to our right.  It is a periwinkle blue with white spots features a six foot wing span and has a five foot tail.  We give it a wide berth and observe its underwater flight.  It makes me a little nervous and I start heading for the exit.  This sighting made my week.  Not that coffee on the ocean view deck, or naps with a Caribbean breeze, or fresh fish for dinner, or pristine white beaches have been a cross to bear but this,   this …… creature was a privilege to behold.  I am humbled.

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez

PS - Although all pictures I have seen of spotted eagle rays show them as dark brown, the one we saw had a bluish/purplish cast.

Spotted Eagle Ray and Parrot Fish photos from this web site

www.flmnh.ufl.edu/fish/gallery/descript/seray/seray.html

DINING OUT WITH YOUR FOOD ALLERGIES IN TOW

      

      

       You’ve just been diagnosed with food allergies.  Whether it is gluten, dairy, soy or all three like me, you are convinced that you are now chained to your kitchen and shall never venture forth again.  In your kitchen, you can control what you purchase and how you prepare it and there is no embarrassment over having a long and detailed conversation with the wait staff, manager or god forbid  "le chef."

       I was cautious at first as to how to approach the restaurants I frequented or those in my furure but decided to just go for it.  Being a foodie, a solid cook and one who enjoys dining out, I have tried not to let my culinary dining habits alter.  I have been going through this for 4 1/2 years, so please benefit from my successful and failed experiences.              

        When I was first diagnosed in 2006, I had by chance recently heard that Wheatfields  Restaurant (downtown Saratoga Springs in upstate New York) had gluten-free pasta and headed on over to partake and support their offerings.   All I had to do was ask about their gluten free pasta, they told me what type of pasta was available and I was able to choose my topping from the menu.  Naturally, due to my dairy allergy, I was limited to certain toppings, but I found them accommodating to substitute a garlic sauce for a cream sauce.   Due to the fact that restaurants need to have a separate pot of boiling water for the gluten-free pasta, they usually offer only one type of pasta per day.  That was easy – a little too easy leading me to think that dining out with my allergies would be worry free.

           Feeling emboldened, I visited other restaurants in downtown Saratoga and at that time (2006), no one else had gluten-free pasta, but with a little ingenuity and a few questions, I could pick other menu items that worked for me.  Generally, I could eat any meats, poultry, fish or pork but had to find one without  breading or a cream sauce.  I can eat all vegetables, fruits, potatoes, rice and all herbs.  So - it is frequently possible to find something and work it out.

           Here's how I order at a sit down restaurant.  When the server first greets us, I ask politely if they have gluten-free pasta.  If they do, great, now I know my options have opened up.  I peruse the menu, find a couple of things that are either perfect for me or could be with a little tweaking.  When the server returns and it is my turn to order I ask the server to come a little closer to discuss my food allergies.  For some reason, some people are uncomfortable to overhear the discussion and don't really believe I have them, so I keep it discreet but not a secret.  I tell them my allergies to gluten, dairy and soy and if I am not ordering a pasta, I will ask for a certain dish and ask if there is any of those ingredients.  If not- good - our order is finished.  If the dish includes dairy, I either move onto a second choice or ask if they can alter the dish a bit and still keep the essence of the dish.  Many times they will say, let me check with the kitchen and then they come back with an answer.  Sometimes there is a little back and forth before we settle on a meal.

           Do I order something, I am not in the mood for just because it is allergy free for me?  For the most part NO!  If I am polite and gently assertive, I can usually get a great meal.  You have to get a sense of the restaurants knowledge of food allergies and their level of accommodation.   Some of them just want to give you a chicken breast over salad and call it a day but I persevere unless.......I am up against overwhelming odds and lack of knowledge. 

            Generally, a more expensive restaurant really has a grip on their ingredients, may have less additives and filler in ingredients they purchase and show more flexibility.   However, a year ago we were having dinner at a wonderful Italian restaurant deep in the heart of Brooklyn and I met some challenges.  I truly enjoy going to really authentic restaurants and this special place had been in the same elegant building for seventy years.  Upon entering, you could feel the history.

              When I asked the waiter if they had gluten-free pasta, he looked at me blankly and then repeated the word incorrectly back to me.  I tried again with no success.  Gluten free was not in his vocabulary, not on the restaurants radar and frankly he didn't seem to care.  I mean wasn't I there to eat his fabulous food as it was. 

               It soon became clear that this was a no go; no one knew what I was talking about and no one wanted to find out.  I have to say that I was at first miffed and put out and looked across the table at my normally supportive husband who was now smirking.  So -  we all had to laugh at the man's apparent lack of interest in anything remotely gluten.  I buckled and ordered chicken cacciatore which worked out just fine, but wasn't what I really wanted.

                Recently though at another restaurant, I did push them closer to the edge because I sensed an in.  Again we were at a very established Italian restaurant in my hometown of Saratoga and at first glance, the menu offered me very little choice.  They did not have gluten-free pasta, so I moved on to the meat, poultry, pork and fish dishes.  Most of them were breaded or had a cream sauce and then of course there is my mood.  What do I feel like having?  I found a broiled halibut with a fun sauce that suited my mood and diet and came with vegetables and potatoes.  The waiter and I settled on the fish but they only choice for starch that evening was mashed potatoes with milk.  There was no rice, fries or baked potato.  I asked the waiter what my options are and he disappeared into the kitchen.  He emerges with a double vegetable offering instead of a starch and asked if that would be okay.  I respond as charmingly as I can,  "That's nice but I'll be unhappy with no potato.  You see, I can't eat the bread either."  A look of realization appeared on his face.  I suggest, "Couldn't they boil a potato with herbs and olive oil."  He said sincerely, that he would check and disappeared again into the kitchen.  He returned with an exciting solution, yes they could do the potatoes.  I thanked him profusely and there is a palpable sense of relief over the entire table.

            What do I do on the way out;  after all, I am a food allergy ambassador.  I thank the waiter again and as I head out the door ask to see the manager.  I am directed to the man behind the bar who also manages and I thank him for accommodating my food allergies.  I mention that it was a little difficult to arrive at a solution, but that I really appreciated their efforts.   He smiled, said it was his pleasure and I felt I had made somewhat of an impression. 

             Did they boil that potato just to shut me up or were they delighted to please me.  I believe that it was a combination of achieving silence on table 9 and a willingness to learn more about customers with food allergies.  That was initially a tough one, but in the end a gratifying meal and experience.  I shall press on.

             In a couple of entries, I shall address eating out at more casual establishments.  Gluten Gal does McDonalds.

A LIST OF RESTAURANTS THAT OFFER GLUTEN-FREE CHOICES

(please note, this is not meant as a definitive list; simply the establishments that I frequent in Saratoga Springs)

Wheatfields Restaurant -440 Broadway, Saratoga Springs,NY http://www.wheatfields.com/

Ironically with a name like Wheatfield’s, this restaurant  has been on the cutting edge of offering gluten-free pastas for at least 5 years.  6 months ago they added gluten-free pizzas.

Fifty South –2128 Doubleday Avenue, Route 50, Ballston Spa – www.fiftysouth.com

Featuring  gluten-free pasta, bread, hamburger rolls, pancakes and desserts.  They live and breathe organic food for all tastes and can make a gluten gal feel normal.

Mamma Mia’s Pizza/Cafe -185 Ballston Avenue, Saratoga, NY– www.mamamiaspizzaandcafe.com

In addition to great Italian food, this restaurant offers gluten-free pastas and gluten-free pizzas.

Sperry’s -30 ½ Caroline St., Saratoga Springs, NY – www.sperrysrestaurant.com

Normally, I cannot partake of the pre-dinner  bread, but Sperry’s offers gluten-free popovers.  A fun surprise. 

Enjoy and let me know your favorite local places that offer gluten-free menus.

Gluten Gal (Diane Lachtrupp Martinez)        

MY HUSBAND WAS RIGHT; THE CROTCH CONCESSION

It’s rare, but it happens on occasion, when you can sincerely say, “Honey, you were right.”  These words were spoken in March of 20011 but our story commences in October 2010.

My husband and I are the co-directors of Tango Fusion Dance Company in Saratoga Springs, New York; a company that was once stationed in New York City, invited to perform in Argentina and now that we live in Saratoga and are parents, it’s recent incarnation has performed around the Northeast.  Tango is the backbone of the company, but we also dance and choreograph a fair amount of salsa and swing as well as incorporating ballet and jazz.  The majority of the time, the 4 to 5 couples dance with the same person, but we also enjoy shaking it up and having different company members dance with each other.

Such was the case last Fall(2010) when we were preparing a new Salsa number for our Fall show at the Charles Wood Theatre in Glens Falls and my husband and company member Deb Otto- Jones were slated to partner in the new four person piece: Shaky –Shaky.  Deb is a well trained ballet dancer; my husband is also strongly trained in ballet so I expected the piece to contain some fun lifts.  Johnny is happy to lift and Deb is delighted to be airborne.  I was not prepared.

Whenever Johnny works a piece with a company member, I generally come in after the majority of the choreography is finished to watch and perhaps offer some suggestions.  The piece did indeed offer up some exciting lifts including the one that starts with the woman jumping and being simultaneously lifted on the man’s shoulders with her legs apart; not in back of his head but right in front.  The crotch in the face moment gives one pause.  After a quick re-gripping of the hands and wrists, the lift continues with the woman flipping down to the floor and the fun didn’t stop there.  Deb then proceeded to do progressive splits forward with my husband’s help.  I believe I stayed fairly cool and said something like, “that’s   some prep.” And left it at that.

A week later, they were rehearsing the lift in front of Deb’s husband and myself and I said to Richard, “Have you seen the crotch lift yet?”

To which he naively and nonchalantly responded, “No.”

“Just wait.” I said.

He turned to me after the crotch lift with raised eyebrows and said, “I see.”

I said to Richard, “It gives one pause doesn’t it?” He agreed and we immaturely decided that we needed to work a crotch lift equivalent into any time that we danced together in our show.

Well, a crotch lift equivalent never came to pass and after gently teasing Johnny and Deb about the lift, they both said that it took much concentration to get the correct hand grip in that position.  I believe that my husband’s exact words were,”Honey – the position is not titillating.  At the time I am concentrating on keeping Deb safe as she flips to the floor.”  Deb concurred.

Nonetheless, even though both couples have been in the dance business a long time, danced with others and many Tango Fusion Dance Company steps and positions would not fly in the non-dance world, that  face to crotch position caught my eye until…

Last Saturday, I was rehearsing some of the cast of RENT (I am choreographing the show to be performed at the EGG in April) for the number “Contact.”  Overall, the show does not hold back on sexual content and the musical number “Contact” takes the cake.  One of the main characters, Angel, has died and the piece depicts his release from this world through sexual movement.  So-----I had the cast rolling around on the floor attached to each other, thrusting each other against the wall, mounting each other in various facings and pulling hair. 

We were rehearsing at our studio in our home and I invited my husband upstairs to help us with some lifts.  To give him an idea of what we were doing, we did a run –through and since one cast member was missing, I stepped in to fill her shoes.  Naturally, I’m thinking that this will be my husband‘s comeuppance  and he now can witness me thrusting, straddling, and performing intimate acts not meant for public consumption. 

However, that’s not what happened.  Instead I had an epiphany when I realized how much I had to concentrate counting the music to make my next move on time and make sure that it looked good and keeping my partner safe.  The athleticism it required to maintain our positions, hold our partners and pick up our partners overpowered any sexual experience.  Actually, we ended up laughing a great deal of the time and getting a terrific work-out.

So – I guess the crotch lift is not just a crotch lift.  Although my husband waited a full 5 months for my realization to come to pass, he took my concession well and did not hold it over my head.  Now, how about that butt lift?


(Check out the video and pay special attention at 2:50 to witness the crotch lift)

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez

I WAS WAY OFF



New Yorker dressed for warm weather in March

      I am currently in New York City for a quick 4 and ½ hour turn around.  Arriving at 10:15, I could not help notice the stark contrast between my apparel and the resident  New Yorkers.  New Yorkers  were wearing light jackets, no jackets, Capri pants, no hats and high heels with no stockings revealing bare skin between the bottom of their pants and the tops of their shoes.  Crossing Madison Park (between Madison and 5^th and 26^th and 23^rd) I saw grass and the first crocuses pushing their way up.  And now for the final slap in the face – a line that lead to Mr. Softie.  Not possible.

      Upon driving out of my snow and ice filled driveway in Saratoga Springs that morning (with not an inch to spare between snow piles) in a down pour at 6am, I chose to don hiking boots, a long faux –fur lined vintage army storm coat, gloves and a winter knit hat. My upper half of my body featured five layers: my bra, my unnecessary camisole, my thankfully light blouse, wool blazer and ridiculous winter coat.  I was prepared and  I was way off.

      Normally, I do not pay much attention to weather forecasts.  If tornados, hurricanes or earthquakes are promised my ears prick up, but other than that I take the weather as it comes.  What can I do.  If it’s raining or snowing then I deal with it at the time.

      However, I think now I will consider the weather when travelling even if it is a mere three hours away.  I don’t need to be subjected to Capri pants, spring jackets and the annoyance of sweaty boot feet and carrying around my weighty jacket with no warning.  I think that if I had witnessed alfresco dining and daffodils, that would have put me over the edge.

      Next time, a  preemptive phone call to my mother –in- law in Brooklyn, would have done the trick.



Diane Lachtrupp Martinez as
Gluten Gal and Tango Mom

ENTREPENEURS AND ENABLERS

 

       The winter of 2009 saw our front parlour filled with my younger son’s snowflake store.  Make no mistake, it dominated the entire room; snowflakes displayed across the entire red velvet couch and today’s special coddled in the red velvet chair.  Signs informed the customers of the prices and deals; 15 cents each or two for 25 cents.  My son eyed every guest to our home as a potential customer and contributor to his stash of cash.  The store opened in January and lasted through May after much urging to close up shop earlier.

       I held my breath in the winter of 2010 to see if the store would re-open.  It did not.  So you can see how I was blind- sided last Wednesday when my younger son announced  in the car that tomorrow was the grand re-opening of his snowflake store.  What?  I thought I was in the clear. I did not see that coming.

       First, we negotiated the real estate.  I knew in my mind, that the front parlour was not going to be inhabited by the snow flake store again; especially when the store had reached its height of inventory in 2009 and featured 379 unique snowflakes.  He assumed the parlour was still available.  It was not and I suggested the play room.  He countered with the reading room landing (located between the first floor kitchen and 2^nd floor bedrooms) and I said, “Deal.”    It is an intimate room and would hopefully prevent spreadage.  Although, every time I climb the stairs(about 20 times a day) I am reminded that our dance students also pass this way en route to their lessons and wonder at the wisdom of my counter offer.

       Thursday morning arrived and the little salesman arrived home after spending the night at his grandma’s.  As I welcomed him at the door, he gives me a cursory hug and rushed by me saying, “There is no time to spare.  My store opens in an hour.” 

       I thought he had plenty of inventory, but he informed me that he has next to none and so I set him up in the living room with paper and scissors to get to work.  I had already decided to embrace his idea and dedicated the next two hours to his grand opening.  Seeing his dearth of product, I rushed into the cellar to find the snowflakes that I had saved two winters ago.  Success, I find them and bring them up.  He seemed pleased with my find and felt less stress on producing mass amounts of snowflakes.

        While my son created, I hung chili pepper lights around the entrance to his store and found a bulletin board to hang and display his items for sale.   After 45 minutes of arduous work, he rushed up to his new store to set up shop.  He categorized his snowflakes as small, medium and large and amazing.  I helped him price them accordingly.  His prizes were at first a little high, and I warned him that his prices need to fit the pockets of his shoppers.

And who are his shoppers?  Well, they are his grandmothers, brother (reluctant), playmates, dance students and any guest who enters our home.

How do the playmates know to bring money?  They don’t.  I am both the land lord and the bank supplying nickels, dimes and quarters to his friends.  The money circulates back to us; I give the playmates a budget of a dollar, they spend it in my son’s store, he generally banks it.  A fun savings plan.

Do his parents shop in the store?  Yes they do, but not always appearing as his parents.  When there were slow days in his shop in 2009 and he longed for business, I would dress up as different characters and ring the front door bell to visit his shop.  He answered the door as a composed proprietor welcoming a new customer but with a knowing twinkle in the eye that acknowledged the secret that we shared as to my true identity.  I am no stranger to our dress-up box and Nanny McPhee has made several guest appearances at the store.  I can only wonder what the neighbors thought as I walked out my back door in full late 19^th century attire, walked the 125 feet along the sidewalk and then re-entered my home by way of the front door and rang my own bell.  Whatever.

       My husband ( no slouch in the dress-up department), grabbed a  sombrero-esque hat from the dress-up box area and pulled a south western looking blanket off the couch, slung it over his shoulder and made his entrance to the snowflake store doing the Mexican Hat Dance.  My son was delighted but managed to keep a straight face nonetheless.  It’s no wonder that my son wants to re-open the store – his parents apparently want to dress-up all the time.  We are enablers.



(young proprieter displays his wares)



BACK TO THE OPENING -10:30am arrives and the store is open; the open sign is displayed, merchandise is arranged, the change box is ready and the chili peppers lights are plugged in.  My younger son had a play date with a neighbor and I had prearranged for the father and daughter to come to the opening before the play date.  My mother was coming back to the house for the opening and I would be there.  Customers were expected.

       The opening went off without a hitch.  Customers purchased at least 25 snowflakes as well as some art work and I provided a toast to his success.  (He nixed the graham cracker hors d’oeuvres that I had suggested.)  All in all a fun two hours of play time.

How is the snowflake store faring?  Since the grand re-opening the store has had sporadic hours and lowered inventory.  BUT- my son did add a new a game feature of throwing a ball into a purple and green top hat that sits on top of the dress-up box in his store.  The customer receives three tries and you win a piece of art work if it goes in.  I love creative marketing.

EPILOGUE: This morning my son put his entrepreneurial skills to work and held a fund raiser in the living room.  Children in his school, were asked to bring loose change from home to support a charity called “Pennies for Patients.”   He did send in loose change as well, but isn’t it more fun to have a fund raiser in the living room that features games to raise the loose change.  My entry fee was four quarters and then I was invited to play a variety of games such as rubber horse shoes, foosball and toss the ball in the purple and green hat. He proudly headed off to school carrying the money from his fund raiser for the charity. Perhaps my son is the future organizer of a Saratoga High Dance Marathon that will raise over $200,000.00 like those great kids at South Glens Falls High School.

Diane Lachtrupp Martinez

P.S.  For reasons unknown to me, I am back in the dog house.  If you don't know what I am talking about, go back about three blogs.