The demise of the slow cooker and other stories -part 2

Since the demise of the slow cooker, our family has teetered precariously on the edge. Carl and I tried, but failed, to defuse the simmering anger between us. On Sunday, during an interminably rainy day, Big Daughter, little one and I returned to my East Village apartment, where Big Daughter grew up. Now, there are three of us. As the family member who yells, I'd learned, in recent years, to contain this bad habit. Three weeks ago, early on a Monday morning, I found myself yelling again. Not a good thing for the family, nor for me. Despite the gift of several gentle conversations over lunch, dinner and afternoon tea, the family crisis continued unabated. One memorable conversation was with my friend, and former co-worker, Lady C. Over the summer, she'd introduced me to Lovely Lady, a quirky cafe on Elizabeth Street, between Prince and Spring Streets in Nolita. A few Saturdays ago, I found Lovely Lady shuttered and closed, after a recent fire. I wasn't surprised. When I'm in crisis, my little universe usually goes into flux. I see this as a signal of impending change. We found our way to Room 118, a comfortable little bar/restaurant, just around the corner. As we sat at the bar and reviewed my career transition and the family crisis, Lady C. listened quietly. Being a pragmatic person, she was reflective about the many transitions. Exactly one year ago, she and I negotiated an intensely stressful period at my program, prior to her departure. My resignation validated our hard work, and her earlier and difficult departure. Endings can have that effect. Their meanings often emerge much later. As we talked, Lady C. had two beers, and I finished half of a strawberry capirinha prepared with muddled strawberries. Eventually we decided to share crispy deep fried potato croquettes, pork shumai and a very fresh, bracing ceviche. The bar food at Room 118 is excellent, and the bartender was low-key but attentive. The following Monday, Lady M. and I met for lunch at Inoteca, at the corner of Rivington and Stanton Streets on the Lower Eastside. I arrived a few minutes early, and was told by the staff, that the restaurant would open in 15 minutes. It was a stilted welcome. Lady M. confirmed hearing the same thing, when she arrived 5 minutes after me. It was cold that day, and there was no room at the inn. Given the recent economic downturn, we expected to be ushered in enthusiastically. Due to my scrambled state, we opted to have lunch there anyway. I ordered the cheese plate with condiments. Despite my stated dislike of blue cheese, a blue gorgonzala was included. The waitress graciously offered to change it, but it was too late in the meal. Lady M. had a panini and we each drank an Aranciata. I brought home an order of polenta. Lady M. was very balanced as she acknowledged the many negotiations of couples, within the context of family and work. Later that week, I met Lady S., one of my oldest friends, at Podunk, on E. 5th Street, between Second Avenue and Bowery, for tea and conversation. It's easy to talk to Lady S., because she never takes sides. She also has a great sense of humor -even when it seems like Humpty Dumpty is soon to fall off the wall. This can be very helpful, when someone like me is upset. In the middle of our conversation, Big Daughter called. She's been struggling with our family crisis, and had a brief, but necessary meltdown on the phone. Being a mother, partner and an individual can be a bit difficult. Sometimes, I simply hope for a little piece of me. I found that for an hour on Thursday afternoon at Cha An, the East Village Japanese tea room on E. 9th, between Second and Third Avenues. Instead of my usual choice of six appetizers, I opted for the sweets and tea. There were two miniature scones, one tiny green tea macaroon, and a sliver of pound cake -all accompanied by very fresh whipped cream and a little container of berries. Prior to that, I was served two sandwiches on miniature, bagel-like rolls -one with salmon and the other with melted butter and raspberries. I ate the salmon, and a tiny corner of the bread and raspberry. As I bit into it, it was warm and yeasty -but best in the smallest doses. I brought home one scone and the pound cake. Sometimes sweet things make me itch, and that's what happened later on that afternoon. We are no longer a family who eats together. Big Daughter has returned to her favorite E. Village haunts for dinner; 7A and Odessa. Carl met little one and I for breakfast at Chatham Square, our breakfast haunt for dim sum, the other morning. When little one complained of a stomach ache, I was sympathetic. I agreed that it's difficult to eat, when everything changes. After hearing that, little one found her appetite and began eating her sticky rice and shrimp dumplings. I drank my iced tea and Carl said he wasn't hungry.