Bonni Brodnick Blog

I found "the perfect" dress at Banana Republic for my daughter's graduation. When I showed her a photo of it, she said, "Mom, you can't wear white. I'm wearing white." I brought the dress back to Banana. When the salesperson asked what was the reason for the return, I told her that my daughter "didn't want to be in the same color dress as me when she graduates from college ." Just as the magnitude of the moment struck me, a young mommy walked in with a little girl on her hip. I quickly left the store teary-eyed, for that was once me and my sweet girl. (See above. It is one of my absolutely favorite photos.)

I know it's not just me. It took forever for spring to arrive in Pound Ridge this year. Fawwww-evahhh. The fields are finally alive with daffodils and forsythia. Put away the black and gray. Start feeling spring-ish! Or prom-ish: Or devilish, impish and gibberish.  Spring has sprung!

In  POUND RIDGE PAST: Remembrances of Our Townsfolk , Malcolm Fancher, one of the town's oldest residents, recalls,  "There was a beautiful view from our house. Since there were hardly any tree, you c ould see all across the valley, up to Stamford. Looking to the west you could see beautiful sunsets.  "Pound Ridge reminded me of the Hollywood hills." To read more about Pound Ridge from the 1920s - 70s, contact poundridgepast@gmail.com or PM me on the POUND RIDGE PAST Facebook page. Signed copies are $30 + $4 for shipping/handling. Credit: Fran Collin Photographer

Hail to David H. Kogen! My beloved father, born on April 23, 1927, would have been 86-years old today. I am so blessed for all that he gave me and my family. (And so sad that he never got to meet his namesake, David H., and Annie.) Sending love and kisses and love and kisses straight up to heaven with my birthday wishes.

I received the following from a friend from Paris who is studying at MIT.  His words, so beautifully written, describe the strength of Boston in the aftermath of the past week: " ... It's amazing how strong and united the people of this city are. I've rarely felt as much a part of a community than right now, in this city and under these circumstances. In the wake of all these dreadful events, this sense of belonging and the love and pride reigning in this town are a huge triumph of unity and freedom over horror and fear. Already, events to commemorate the victims are being organized. We will never forget them.       So rest assured, my sense is that Boston has never been stronger than right now."

To everyone in Boston, we send our thoughts and prayers. A week of horror, terror and sorrow is finally over.

Be safe, Boston. You are in our thoughts.

Our prayers are with Boston as we share the sorrow and horror of today's events.      "Bostonians are rightly proud of our Marathon. It is a uniquely American event which opens its arms to the world. Any and all are welcome: men and women, able-bodied and disabled, young and old across the races and religions of the planet. That anyone could target this celebration of global family is impossible to conceive.      "Our hearts ache for the injured innocents; and we are so grateful and proud of our first-responders, our President, our Governor and Mayor for their calm strength and leadership in this tragic time."                                                                              ~ James Taylor , April 15 2013

? ? "Tell me if you've heard this before ..." If someone asks this question before lamming in to a story, it's likely that you have, indeed, heard the story before. "But did I tell you the one about ...?" You might not have heard this one. Keep an open ear. We have a code in our family: if we've heard the story a handful of times before, we hold up the number of fingers for the number of times we've heard the tale. "What about this one? Have I told you this?" Blah, blah, blah, yadda-yadda, yeah-yeah. Yep. Yup. Heard that one. But don't let me stop you.

Dedicated to the midnight riders amongst us ...                           Click here ... "Confessions of a Hopeless Night Owl" PS: The story has been picked up in London and Heidelberg. I love the graphic that one of them put up with the story:

T here is a new trend for writing cursive. I know what you're thinking, "Who the heck has the time?" Isn't tapping a keyboard much faster? Well, yes. But if I had moaned about handwriting to Miss Louise Fitzgerald, my 3rd grade teacher (and, later, first writing mentor) at Jefferson School in Maplewood, New Jersey, she would have throttled me. It was in her class that I learned longhand penmanship. Bailing from sans serif to serif for this 9-year old was a thrill. I also had great envy for the inkwell and pen that she had on her desk. (I can still remember her blue-inked signature.) To write by hand, you have to have something to write about. Try writing a love letter in cursive. Crank up a chain letter. How about a personalized thank you note? All three are fun to receive in the mail and will certainly be more tangible in the future than your email in- and sent box. When we are long gone, who is going to tell the next generations, "Oh, look in my email b...

When "Mad Men" premiered in July 2007, I was immediately sold. In anticipation of the upcoming special 2-hour premier of Season 6 last night, I morphed into a retro-housewife and pulled out all the stops (including my old aprons). We had shrimp dip with Charlie Chips, popped in some Pigs In a Blanket, and for cocktails had Dewar's neat. To show the love for my husband, I cooked up a Boeuf Bourguignon ... just like Meg Draper does to show her affection for Don. If I had found the chafing dishes, I might have done a quick menu switch to Sweet-and-Sour Meatballs. Last night's episode reminded us that fondue pots are approved for entertaining. So bring 'em out! For cheese fondue, don't forget the magic ingredient:  Kirsch. I knew from Season I: First Episode that "Mad Men" was going to be a game changer in television. Here's a reprint of my "Guest Column"that appeared in September 2007 in my favorite local paper, The Bedford/Pound Ri...

With the 2nd of April (and all the foolishness and buffoonery of the 1st behind us), we turn to other games of spring. Who doesn't remember B'Loonies? (See above.) You squeeze out a ball of plastic, stick it on the end of the straw, and blow through the straw to create a bubble. The tricky part was pinching the bubble off the straw to seal it before the whole thing deflated.  I remember the sticky fingers and the smell of plastic.   I also remember -- and  do NOT show this part to anyone under 6   -- wanting to chew  the B'Loonies. (In full disclosure, I did. But only once.) The plastic tasted so toxic that I realized the instructions on the back of the package must be for good reason: "Not a food item. Do not eat or place in mouth." The following things remind me of spring. Each and every one of them was back-in-play once it was warm enough to wear ankle socks: Flubber (Notice a trend of silicone polymers? Is it any wonder we used to play...

On Easter Sunday, the temperature in Pound Ridge was a balmy 57-degrees. My garden is just starting to awaken. The crocuses (croci?) are starting to come up and there is a mum of buds on the lilac bush. Encouraged by the little things that make springtime magnificent in Pound Ridge, we even brought out the patio furniture. Gin and tonics here I come! So imagine my surprise when I awoke this morning to 4-feet of snow an d temperatures dipping into the 30s. Weather-wise, it's such a coo-coo day/year. Out come the boots and mittens and hats and gloves. Again. And just when we thought we were finished with the our trusted snow plow guy, there he was, going up and down the driveway making mountains of snow.  Last night the Corgi calendar in the kitchen was ceremoniously and gloriously flipped from March to April. Today we are in a complete throw-back to January. The furnace is on over-drive and we fear yet another black-out from the weight of the snow on the power lines. ...