Goldendaze-ginnie

NEW DRUGS for women only …

2012-01-26T15:51:00.000-08:00

DAMNITOLTake 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 full hours.

FLIPITOR Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.

MENICILLIN
Potent anti-boy-otic for older women. Increases resistance to such lethal lines as, 'You make me want to be a better person. '

BUYAGRA Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping. Increases potency, duration, and credit limit of spending spree.

ANTI-TALKSIDENT A spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers in elevators..

PEPTOBIMBO
Liquid silicone drink for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases libido, decreases intelligence, and prevents conception.

DUMBEROL
When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low IQ, resulting in enjoyment of country music and pickup trucks.

“GOOD to the LAST DROP”

2012-01-23T10:28:00.000-08:00

The “Good to the Last Drop” slogan to advertise Maxwell House Coffee started in 1917 and continues even to this day, although they recently unveiled a new campaign touting “Good Just Got Great”… but why would this be of sufficient interest that I’d write a blog entry about it? Well here’s why:

I never hear those words, “Good to the Last Drop” without thinking of my father. It was in the 40’s and our whole family would gather 'round the big wooden radio in the living room to listen to our favorite shows like “Maxwell House Coffee Time”, better known as the “Burns and Allen Show”. We never missed an episode which always began with Gracie Allen saying "Another cup of Maxwell House coffee, George?" and George Burns replying, "Sure. Pour me a cup, Gracie."

Maxwell House was also the sponsor of the radio version of “Father Knows Best“. Each episode began with the youngest daughter Kitten asking, "Mother, is Maxwell House really the best coffee in the whole world?" to which her mother would reply, "Well, your father says so, and Father Knows Best!"

And I always thought that MY father knew what was best too, so, to this day every time I hear the words “good to the last drop” I recall his chuckle and the way he’d say “WHAT’S WRONG WITH THE LAST DROP???”

A musical “MAN CAVE” …

2012-01-19T07:23:00.001-08:00

Isn’t this a great room? It’s my middle son’s music room and I’ve always thought that it was a big factor in why he chose to buy the house that he did. This is part of the very large garage and workshop that he’s converted into this dream space… complete with sound proof walls ! The picture shows him on the guitar and the fanciful painted drum set belongs to my oldest son.

One definition of a “man cave” is that it recreates some of the space and freedom of bachelor days … maybe like a college dorm room where people could come and go as if they owned the place. It’s also where a man doesn't have to be on his best behavior and usually is devoid of females.

Tuesday nights find the band … all “boys” in their 50’s … practicing and playing to their hearts delight. It also includes a fabulous female singer so, in actuality, it’s doesn’t match the definition for “man cave”.

The other big attraction in the music room is the Fooz table that
vies for their attention. There is a constant competition going on and my daughter is often the winner … once again proving that this specific “man cave” includes the ladies, too. Whatever it’s called it’s a wonderful haven and a great break from the stresses of everyday life.

A fond memory …

2012-01-14T19:35:00.000-08:00

I found this plaque hidden among my Christmas decorations and it took me back to the day that it was given to Dick, my husband. He had helped a friend out of a difficult situation and this was his friends way to express his thanks, knowing that it was one of his favorite sayings. Dick passed away in 1990 but every time I hear this quoted it jolts me back to that summer day in the ‘60s in upstate New York.

Robert Kennedy has been credited with saying this first but I felt sure that wasn’t correct so I did a little research and, sure enough, it is a quote from the Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw (July 1856 - November 1950).

The actual wording is… “I hear you say Why?, always Why? You see things, and say Why? but I dream things that never were and I say Why not?”

While I was researching I became enamored with some of the other quotes attributed to Shaw and thought I’d share my favorites with you. Here they are:

**The first prison I ever saw had inscribed on it CEASE TO DO EVIL: LEARN TO DO WELL; but as the inscription was on the outside, the prisoners could not read it.

**The secret of success is to offend the greatest number of people

**The sex relation is not a personal relation. It can be irresistibly desired and rapturously consummated between persons who could not endure one another for a day in any other relation.

**No public man in these islands ever believes that the Bible means what it says: he is always convinced that it says what he means.

**You must not suppose, because I am a man of letters, that I never tried to earn an honest living.

**Patriotism is, fundamentally, a conviction that a particular country is the best in the world because you were born in it…

From Wellington, New Zealand to Vass, North Carolina

2012-01-11T04:51:00.000-08:00

Some of you may remember this picture from my June 2nd, 2011 blog. I wrote then about my late and dear friend Jimmi G. and the store that she had in Manhattan in the 60’s that she named “Fur Flyers”.

Now fast forward to a few days ago and share with me the joy that I felt when I received the following email:

“Hello Ginnie:

This is John, Jimmi’s son, (writing from Wellington, New Zealand). My cousin found your post …about Fur Flyers and my mother. She forwarded it to me (as well as about 20 other family members) just a day or two before Thanksgiving.

It was such a wonderful treat and blessing to read your fond remembrances of my mother and her many endeavors. We all enjoyed it more than turkey with stuffing (especially her sister!). So, we all owe you an enormous debt of gratitude for that. The Internet is truly an amazing tool, if that is even adequate to describe such a special moment of serendipity and unexpected levity.

I can only hope someday I am able to reach across time and come back to life in the same way you brought my mom back to us.

Thanks again. With sincerest gratitude, John”

Isn’t that wonderful? It’s just another example of the wonders of blogging and why I love it so.

HOW DOES THIS MAKE SENSE ????

2012-01-06T15:16:00.000-08:00

Chapel Hill, NC … “UNC hires Larry Fedora as new football coach.
The school's trustees approved a seven-year contract worth more than $1.7 million annually for the coach to become the permanent replacement for Butch Davis.”

Chapel Hill, NC … “UNC approves $2,800 tuition increases. It took the Board of Trustees less than an hour … to approve tuition and fee increases for all UNC students. It took even less time for the Board … to completely ignore students’ concerns.”

So, once again, the 1% reigns supreme, even in our colleges where the students (WHO ARE THE FUTURE OF AMERICA) struggle to meet their financial obligations.

The standard answer to justify this disparity is that athletic funds are separate from academic funds.

Really????… and why is that ???? It beats me.

*************************************************************************************
On a happier note and concerning my last blog entry ... I thought you might be interested to know that Erin Morgenstern, the author of "The Night Circus" sent me this email after I wrote and told her how much I enjoyed her book.
Dear Virginia, I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed the book! It is indeed my first novel and it's amazing that the response has been so strong. I am working on another when I have time (which isn't as often as I'd like!) so eventually there will be a second novel, I'm just not sure how long it will take.
I hope all is well with you and happy new year!
Cheers, Erin

2012-01-02T12:46:00.001-08:00

There are few things that I enjoy more than reading a book that I can’t put down. Such was the case with “The Night Circus” and it was by sheer luck that I was reading it. It was on display at our little library and I chose it simply because I loved the illustration on the cover !

This is a debut novel for Erin Morgenstern and I was blown away by her imagination. It was a challenge to keep up with it at times but that just made it more interesting.

Basically the plot revolves around magicians Prospero the Enchanter and Mr. A H who have been competitors for years. They hatch a bizarre plan involving a duel between two young magicians who they plan to train. They call it a “game” and little do their students know that the only way their instructors will crown a winner is when one of the two has died.

At the center of the novel is Le Cirque de Reves, the night circus. It is a traveling circus that arrives without warning in fields around the world. The tents and interior sections are all in black and white and admittance is only between the hours of dusk and dawn. This becomes the unusual setting that serves as the dueling ground for Marco the orphan and Prospero’s beautiful daughter Celia.

This is just a brief synopsis of “The Night Circus” and it leaves out all the imaginative sub-plots; but I hope it’s enough to whet your appetite.

Here’s the author, Erin Morgenstern:

It looks like she’s taking off on her own magical journey and I can’t wait to see where her imagination will take us next !

SIMPLE PLEASURES for 2012 !

2011-12-29T14:15:00.000-08:00

( Some of you will note that I’ve already posted this once; but since it so aptly expresses my hopes for the New Year I’ve decided to repeat it here …)

"Knock, knock”…. “Who’s there?”… “Apple”…. “Apple Who?”

“Knock, knock”…. “Who’s there?”… “Apple”…. “Apple Who?”

“Knock, knock”…. “Who’s there?”… “Orange”…. “Orange Who?”

“Orange you glad I didn’t say Apple again?
*********************************************************

Now, that’s about as simple as it gets! But just look at the joy that it gives to this happy little girl. She revels in the fact that she’s been so clever and howls with delight.

The older I get the more I wish I could go back to that time of my life. I’ve just about had it with this crazy world of ours, where greed reigns supreme. I can’t imagine growing up in this atmosphere.

I know that I can’t change the world but I can certainly try to improve my small part in it so I’ve decided to cut out all the “stuff” that has been running my life...all those extras that I thought I couldn‘t live without. I find it very liberating. The more I cut back, the greater freedom I feel ... an exhilarating experience.

So, here’s the plan for me from now on ...to live simply and to take each day as it comes. To share what I have with others and, above all, to be thankful for what I have.

Oh, yes… and to keep on being silly… “Knock, knock” ... “Who’s there? ... “Repeat” ...“Repeat who?” ... “Who, who, who.”

Another amazing gift … and it goes full cycle !

2011-12-25T13:38:00.000-08:00

On my last trip North I visited with my sister Peg who is in a nice nursing center on Cape Cod. In the evenings her husband and I had time to do some reminiscing and he happened to mention the HUGE collection of shells that he had stored in the basement.

The shells were ones that my mother had collected over the years and most were labeled with the name of the shell and the place and date that it came from ! He said he hated to get rid of them but that his family had taken their favorites and they were just taking up room and would I be interested in them?

I have a dear friend here in North Carolina who does amazing things with shells and I decided to bring them home to her. I did just that but only after I took some for myself and my three children did the same.

Now, fast forward to the present … and a wonderful “present” it was when my friend gave me these adorable hanging ornaments that she made using two of the shells. She chose ones that had been labeled by my mother and it is so special to see her handwriting.

When I sent this picture to my brother-in-law (who gave me the shells) he emailed back that he’d love one to give to his wife in the nursing home. “She will love it”, he said and I know that she will. I can just see it hanging on the bulletin board in her room and it will be a wonderful remembrance of our mother and her love of collecting.

Just another example of the joys of recycling.

MY KIND OF GIFT …

2011-12-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

All of my friends know that I am a big supporter of KIVA, the organization that gives micro loans to budding entrepreneurs all over the world. So, I was thrilled, but not surprised, when I received this great gift.

It is (as you can read) a donation to World Vision and is a share in buying two oxen and a plow for a needy family. My friend, (whose husband is a career officer in the Special Forces and has recently returned from Afghanistan) knows the cumulative value of giving donations to those less fortunate.

I had not heard of World Vision but, knowing my friend as I do, I am sure that she checked out the legitimacy of the organization before making it her choice. I find that it is a Christian relief organization and is one of the largest in the world. They operate in more than 90 countries and have been active since 1977. “Right now, around the world, they are working in partnership with more than 100 million people in their struggle against poverty, hunger and injustice, irrespective of their religious beliefs.”

I may be naïve; but I think it would be a different world if we all gave in the same manner.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !

A gift of CHRISTMAS SEALS …

2011-12-18T01:35:00.000-08:00

When my father died in 1960 my sister Barbara inherited his large stamp collection. As I mentioned in an earlier post Dad had collected stamps since he was a boy and even sold off some valuable ones during the depression in the 30’s.

Among his collection was a box of Christmas stamps dating back to the early 20th century. About 10 years ago Barbara sorted through the box and found that there were many duplicates. She decided to make use of them and very creatively designed the plate that you see here. Barbara started with a clear glass plate, glued the stamps to the bottom of the plate and then covered it all with red felt. It was her Christmas gift to me that year.

Actually the idea of Christmas seals was not original to the United States. It started in Denmark but became a national program here in 1908. The seals were sold at post offices for a penny each and the proceeds went to the Red Cross and the Study and Prevention of Tuberculosis.

The Red Cross withdrew from the arrangement in 1920 and from then on it was conducted exclusively for TB. President Roosevelt, who suffered from Polio, endorsed the campaign in 1936 and it took off from there. Today, since TB has become curable, the Christmas seals benefit the American Lung Association and other lung related issues

MADE IN AMERICA !!

2011-12-13T16:32:00.000-08:00

My choice for nightly news is ABC and I love the fact that they’ve taken up the cause of “Buying in America”. I even had the perfect chance to do so recently. My son asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told him “a set of bath towels to match my newly painted bathroom”.

Right after I’d told him that it occurred to me that I hadn’t designated the “made in America” type. I rushed to the internet and googled what I wanted and it gave me quite a few choices. I chose the 1888 Mills brand that I picture above. The “yellow chiffon” color will be perfect and I emailed the info to my son post haste.

One of the many stories that ABC related was about a college student who decided (after watching their series) to decorate her new dorm room with only articles made in America. She turned first to the catalog that her college put out promoting everything from furniture to linens to books, and she found that none of them were made here. When the ABC team pointed this out to the powers that be at the college they were stunned, as were the curators at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington when it was proved that none of the items in their gift shop were made in America !

Our young student stuck to her guns and, with the help of her friends and her parents, she was able to decorate her entire room with “Made in America” items. So often you hear the excuse that it costs much more to do so; but they compared her bill to what she would have paid for comparable items and found a difference of just a few dollars and most of her things were of a better quality.

The other fact that thrilled me was that jobs are being created because so many people are jumping on the bandwagon and companies are expanding. So, now I’m a believer. How about you?

(PS: The Smithsonian now has a gift shop with ONLY made in America objects !)

HARRY MORGAN … 1915 - Dec. 7, 2011

2011-12-09T14:37:00.000-08:00

Somehow it seems fitting that Harry Morgan died on Dec. 7th. Although “Mash” was set in the Korean War (not Pearl Harbor) his portrayal of the beloved Colonel Sherman Potter was the epitome of the best that a serviceman can be in wartime.

I remember him too as the sidekick of Jack Webb in “Dragnet”. That was a favorite of my husbands and mine in the late 60’s.

When I heard the news that he’d died I was surprised at how much it affected me… I guess it seemed like he would be with us forever. As a good friend wrote to me, “I think we can both feel a sense of loss for a wonderful actor … someone who was a part of our life.”

But then I read that he’d had a full and varied life for 96 years and I realized, instead of grieving, that I should celebrate that. I think if I am honest what I was really feeling was an awareness that as I grow older the losses will become more frequent.

So, thank you, Harry, for all the countless hours of entertainment that you’ve given to me and to others and for making me aware that I need to treasure every hour of every day that is left !

HANDLE WITH CARE ...

2011-12-05T14:58:00.000-08:00

Some people will see nothing more than a battered old cookbook; but I see my mother sitting at the kitchen table, leafing through the pages to see what she’ll cook for us that day. She loved and relied on this book and I don’t think it ever let her down.

It is the Lily Wallace “New AMERICAN COOK BOOK” and the

original color was this bright blue. There’s a notation she made on pg 279 next to Deviled Salmon that reads: “good. July 20, ‘44”. That makes me think that she probably got the book brand new as a gift. I would have been 11 years old then and can actually remember how much my sister Peggy and I loved making cakes and other desserts. I’m sure the recipes came from this book.

I have no idea when Mother put a new cover on the book but it was probably sometime in the ‘50s. She was still living on her own in the early ‘80s and it was then that she passed the book on to me.

Here are a few of the recipes that I’m sure I’ll never try … and will probably never see in another cookbook: Shrimp Shriggle, Fried Tripe, Pigs’ Feet a la Russe, Fried sauerkraut and Beef & kidney pie with spaghetti. However, the recipe for Yorkshire Pudding is the best I’ve ever found and I use it often on holidays.

It’s so easy to run to the computer when I want to know how to cook something … but it can’t compare to the warm feeling that I get every time I open the pages of my very old “New American Cookbook”.

WHOSE AMERICAN DREAM ??

2011-12-01T16:55:00.000-08:00

I don’t watch much TV and carry just the basic cable in order to see the latest news and, of course, JEOPARDY ! So, when I was recently in a place that offered over 20 stations I decided to see what I’d been missing. Now I’m happier than ever that I don’t waste my time and money on the garbage that is clogging the airways.

I specifically recall an interview with a man named Simon Cowell. He was taking us on a camera tour of his $12 million-dollar home in Beverly Hills. I’d never heard of the man and gathered, from his attitude, that he would be shocked to know that there was one person alive who actually didn't know his name. When asked how it felt to live in that grandiose house he grinned and said, “I’m just living the American dream”. I wanted to reach into the screen and choke him.

To my way of thinking he epitomizes the ego and greed that is rampant world-wide nowadays… “give me more, more and more and to Hell with those left in my wake.”

On a happier note I heard Hugh Jackman interviewed too and was uplifted to hear that he’s created a charity coffee shop in New York which will raise money for good causes. He said he’d been greatly influenced by Paul Newman and wanted to emulate him. (The “Newman’s Own” brands have yielded almost a quarter of a billion dollars ($250,000,000) for a ton of worthwhile causes and those numbers continue to grow.)

I know that there are others like Jackman and Newman but they are the exception. Just imagine what our world would be like if that elite club of the world’s wealthiest could forego that 2nd yacht or a trip to Abu Dhabi and put the money where it would help someone besides themselves? Now that’s what I’d be happy to call “the American dream.”

“Grow old along with me …

2011-11-27T17:39:00.000-08:00

…the best is yet to be”. So says Robert Browning and maybe he’s right; but here are some other thoughts on the subject!

“Middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle.” … Bob Hope

“In a man's middle years there is scarcely a part of the body he would hesitate to turn over to the proper authorities.” … E.B. White

“Men do not quit playing because they grow old; they grow old because they quit playing.” … Oliver Wendell Holmes

“We've put more effort into helping folks reach old age than into helping them enjoy it.” … Frank A. Clark

“The best thing about getting old is that all those things you couldn't have when you were young you no longer want.” … L.S. McCandless

“I never dared be radical when young for fear it would make me conservative when old.’ … Robert Frost

“If I knew I was going to live this long, I'd have taken better care of myself.” … Mickey Mantle

"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." … Jack Benny

“What I look forward to is continued immaturity followed by death.” … Dave Berry

“True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high-school class is running the country.” … Kurt Vonnegut

“Old age is the most unexpected of all the things that happen to a man.” … Leon Trotsky

48 years ago …November 24, 1963

2011-11-24T07:41:00.000-08:00

It was a Sunday and my husband, myself and a close friend were in our NY City apartment. grieving over the assassination of President Kennedy. We were also glued to the TV set because the accused killer, Lee Harvey Oswald, was about to be transferred from the Dallas police station to a nearby county jail.

Nowadays we are used to 24 hour news broadcasting and instant replays. In 1963, however, it was a big deal to be watching this event “live” and we didn’t want to miss a bit of it. The TV screen showed the halls of the Dallas Police station, jammed with reporters and we had no inkling of the dramatic events that were about to unfold before our very eyes.

Suddenly the door opened and Oswald was escorted into the room. He was barely before our eyes when a man leaped forward and shot him at close range. None of us could believe what we’d seen.

The Pulitzer Prize-winning photo above was shot by Robert H. Jackson of the Dallas Times-Herald. It is amazing that he could react so quickly. That same picture had flashed before our eyes but was soon obscured as a roomful of men wrestled the shooter to the ground. It wasn't long before he was identified as Jack Ruby...a well known man about town

Ruby, a Dallas nightclub owner, had gained admittance to the Police station by impersonating a newspaper reporter. No one thought to check for weapons and it was easy for him to draw his gun and fatally wound the 24 year old Oswald. Ruby was tried and convicted of murder but he petitioned for a second trial and died in 1967 of cancer before he could be tried again. (He went to his death convinced that he’d been poisoned with “cancer cells”.)

Ruby never explained why he shot Oswald and speculations have been going on for years as to their connection with the crime syndicate and the assassination of President Kennedy. When I hear those arguments it never fails to take me back to that November day in 1963 and to the shock of watching an execution take place before our eyes and the eyes of a stunned nation

Gift giving …

2011-11-20T17:36:00.001-08:00

When my close friend, her significant-other and their two dogs returned recently from a 6 week road trip in their camper they came bearing gifts. This was not unusual since they are both “givers” and have generous spirits.

What really got me thinking, however, was the fact that the gifts were polar opposites in feeling but they were both bought with me in mind. Did this mean that they saw me in dissimilar ways? Did I perhaps treat them differently or was I just reading way too much into this simple act of giving.

The first gift came from my friend Bonnie who is like a sister to me. She brought me this gorgeous pottery vase from Taos, New Mexico, with a raised pueblo village etched on the front.

She told me she’d chosen this because it would remind me of my sister Mary who lived there years ago. I also felt that she’d bought this for me because she knew it was my taste…an elegant work of art suited to my love of beauty. Very nice, I thought, she’s pegged me perfectly.

But wait … here comes her significant-other, Bill, with a pixyish grin on his face… and look what he brought.

It’s a Whirligig Chicken and I love it too !! Nothing elegant about this little guy but obviously chosen because it depicts the silly, immature side of me and I have to admit that he pegged me correctly there too.

So what does this prove in the great scheme of things ? Nothing really, except that maybe it’s nice to have friends who can see all sides of you and still love you enough to bring gifts !!

1941 … my first encounter with death

2011-11-16T15:05:00.000-08:00

I was 8 years old when my beloved canary Bitsy keeled over dead and, of course, I was devastated.

Barely a year had passed since I’d held her little cage on my lap during our train ride from Plainfield, New Jersey to Wellesley Hills, Massachusetts. Our family was making a big change and she was my link to the past so I guarded her zealously.

I was actually amazed at how well she fared during the journey and she was a happy and chipper little bird for the first year in our new home.

Her sudden demise was a great shock to me and I will always be thankful for the understanding and comfort that my mother gave to me then. She took it very seriously and, after explaining that death was an integral part of life, she encouraged me to gather my friends for a special funeral the next day.

After a bit of searching we came up with the perfect coffin. I don’t know if any of you remember but back in the 40’s they sold a boxed brush and comb set that was somewhat similar to this:

It was lined in satin and had a transparent cover … the perfect resting place for my little Bitsy. She looked at peace and lovely as she lay there.

The next day six of us gathered round the hole that we’d dug in our garden. My mother held the box first and she spoke of the joy that Bitsy had brought to all the family. She then passed it on to the next person who continued the dialogue. It ended up with me and, amid tears but also smiles, I recalled all the special times that I’d shared with Bitsy.

I remember the feeling of peace that I felt when we laid her to rest and covered her with packed dirt and a sprinkling of rose petals.

During this whole time my mother never told me that Bitsy was going to heaven or that “time would heal all” … or any of the other time worn clichés. She simply allowed me the dignity to grieve and it’s a lesson that has served me well for the past 70 years. I will be forever grateful to her for that.

WORDS FAIL ME ..

2011-11-13T11:27:00.001-08:00

“If a relaxing moment turns into the right moment...will you be ready?” So goes the TV commercial for the ED drug Cialis ... but what’s up with the twin bathtubs ?

I’m sure you’ve all seen those commercials. The ones that start with the female performing some mundane task, such as painting a wall or doing dishes. Suddenly the male appears and the magic begins. As the couples gaze lovingly in each others eyes the walls recede, water cascades from nowhere and we’re suddenly trans-ported to the great outdoors.

But here’s the fun part. The couple continues their leisurely walk through Camelot, the music swells and they somehow end up, nude, in separate bathtubs! And, as if that weren’t enough, their walk is accompanied by a low and authoritative voice intoning:

“Always consult your doctor before taking this drug and contact him at once if you have any of these serious side effects: sudden vision loss; ringing in your ears, or sudden hearing loss; chest pain or heavy feeling, pain spreading to the arm or shoulder, nausea, sweating, general ill feeling; irregular heartbeat; swelling in your hands, ankles, or feet; shortness of breath; seizure (convulsions); vision changes; feeling light-headed, fainting; or penis erection that is painful or lasts 4hours or longer. This is not a complete list of side effects and others may occur”

Gets you all tingling inside, doesn’t it?

I guess the commercials are effective but, being a skeptic and a female I see it more like this:

My Recovery CONUNDRUM …

2011-11-09T16:51:00.000-08:00

Well, it’s been 5 weeks since I fractured my femur and my recovery is going splendidly. My surgeon says it will take 6 to 12 weeks for the bone to heal completely but I am walking with the aid of a cane and seem to be regaining strength every day and I have little or almost no pain in the leg. This is encouraging.

HOWEVER … here’s the conundrum. I have a chronic condition called Scoliosis … or curvature of the spine. I have had it forever but only in the last 10 years have I found it bothersome. My answer to keeping the pain at bay has been my daily regimen of 18 warm-up Tai Chi exercises that encompass the neck area clear down to my toes. If I do that faithfully I get through the day with little or no pain.

But, here’s the rub … according to my PT folks and my Dr. I need to do specific exercises from the waist down while I’m healing and they all rule out any type of rotation motion, even including crossing my legs. This is counter to the Tai Chi exercises … the ones that keep my back pain at bay!

So I’m kind of between a rock and a hard spot although I do have two things that ease the pain a bit … one is using a back support belt and the other is applying heat to the area.

Sooooo … if any of you have gone through similar circumstances I‘d love your input.

(and that’s the end of my whining for today !!)

1937 … the Lee girls with Grandpa and Grandma

2011-11-05T07:32:00.000-07:00

That’s me, the littlest of all the Lee girls, squeezed onto the running board of my Grandfather’s new car. My Grandmother, and sister of my great Aunt Emma, peers out of the back window.

This picture was taken in Brattleboro, Vt., where they lived and, although I certainly can’t remember that day, I can remember the sights and smells quite well.

Grandpa’s hobby was woodworking and I loved to watch him at work in his shop located just off the kitchen. Wondrous toys, furniture and bric-a-brac seemed to miraculously spring from his agile fingers as he turned the wood lathe. And the smell of new sawn shavings was delectable.

His main job, however, was as a salesperson for the Estey Organ Company and he traveled far and wide throughout New England in his beloved car promoting and selling their product. Here is a picture of the type of organ that he sold, an Estey Reed Organ, Circa 1927:

Although my Grandfather was fairly reserved in his home the stories abound about his travels on the road … his cap perched jauntily on his head and his windows open to catch the air. I would love to have been a silent partner on those trips!

I CAIN ’t believe it !!!

2011-11-01T18:12:00.000-07:00

Is it just me or is our entire country going whacko?? I have to tell you up front that I am not a student of politics, nor do I speak for anyone but myself.

However, that being said, I have to also tell you that I am completely flabbergasted by the Republican party’s roster of candidates for the 2012 Presidential election. Where do they find these people?

Having a black President was a shock and a disgrace to so many right wingers and now, all of a sudden, their own black choice is their darling !! I heard him interviewed a few days ago and he said he will bring a sense of humor back to the White House. Wow ... I’m sure that will be a comfort to the one in six Americans who get by on less than $11,139 a year !

I can’t help but wonder what the rest of the world thinks of us. I find it an embarrassment but I also respect and appreciate the fact that we, in our country, have the right to our own opinions and the freedom to express them.

So, with that in mind, I’m expressing my opinion.

I intend to cast my vote in 2012, just as I did in 2008, for the very fine statesman that we have now in office ... President Barack Obama.

Aunt Emma’s Halloween “Treat” …

2011-10-29T12:05:00.000-07:00

I introduced you to my great Aunt Emma in my last blog entry, and since Halloween is just around the corner, I thought you might enjoy this story about her too.

As I mentioned Aunt Emma was a very frugal New Englander and she lived a simple life; but she did have one passion that I was aware of. She loved gardening, in all it’s forms. Her vegetable garden took up most of the back lawn and she harvested enough from that to last her through the winter.

Her showpiece, however, was at the front of her house. That was where she planted her roses. They took up most of the small front lawn and were separated from the sidewalk by an evergreen hedge that she kept neatly trimmed.

The story goes that the morning after Halloween Aunt Emma walked out front to find that her rose bushes and the hedge border had been completely smothered in toilet paper. A lesser person might have been upset by this but she took it in stride.

She came outside with a wooden dowel and preceded to wind the paper around it. The boys had used at least three rolls to cover her foliage so she had a huge ball when she was done…enough to last a long time and it was FREE!

I’m sure this wasn’t the result that the little Halloween Hooligans were looking for but it must have made the day for Aunt Emma.

A surprise in Aunt Emma’s diary…

2011-10-25T16:46:00.000-07:00

My mother was born in 1896. She, her older sister and their parents lived in West Brattleboro, Vt. Also living there, just two houses down from theirs, was my Grandmother’s sister, my great Aunt Emma.

After Aunt Emma died my mother was given all her diaries and she divided them among the family. I received 12 of them and I couldn’t wait to read what she’d written. Was I ever disappointed! I knew that Aunt Emma was a spinster and a very frugal one at that; but I had no idea that her life was so devoid of enchantment or just plain fun.

Page after page recorded nothing but the weather conditions for the day and the exact price of everything she bought. Of course she would mention visiting her sister, etc., but not much else of interest until ...

Imagine my surprise when I read, in her diary of 1912: “I stood on my front porch and waved to President Taft as he rode by on the trolly.”

I couldn’t wait to research this and, sure enough, here is a picture of the trolly tracks and a caption that reads: “In the early years of the 20th century, the town built a trolly which traveled the length of Main Street and out Western Avenue to West Brattleboro.”

And here’s the big man himself speaking at a town just North of West Brattleboro. So I guess Aunt Emma had a special treat that day ... even if her New England stoicism made it hard for her to express it!

My daughter’s 50th UN-Birthday party !

2011-10-22T08:38:00.001-07:00

Well, that’s me…dancing at my daughter’s big bash just 3 days before I drove home, fell and fractured my femur. Now it’s 3 weeks later and I feel well enough to finally write all about it !

Late in Sept. I headed North to attend my daughter’s 50th UN birthday celebration. She had been greatly affected by the TV pictures of the poor Somalian children and wanted to do her part so, instead of receiving gifts, she decided to host a FUNdraiser for Doctor’s Without Borders and the children of Somalia.

Their antique shop (a three story converted cow barn) is located in Dutchess County, NY and open only on weekends, so they decided to utilize that and the party was held from 1 to 5 in their place of business on Saturday, Oct. 1st.

They had hired the musical group “Gypsy Jazz Caravan” from NY City and they proved to be an enormous success. Their music is based on the music of the 1930’s with a definite Parisian twist. We all enjoyed their music and it was fun to sing along as they played. I think the band enjoyed it almost as much as we did.

Here is an overview and you can see that the audience just settled in among the antiques. I laughed at one point when I saw my son-in-law come in and transfer a guest from one chair to another. It seems he’d just sold the chair that he was sitting on ! (Business must go on!)

It took months of preparation between the invitations, the food, the music and the rearrangement of their shop; but it was an outstanding success and one that will be remembered for a very long time. When all was said and done they raised over $4,000 for Doctor’s Without Border’s !

ON THE MEND …

2011-10-16T10:59:00.000-07:00

Well, you can see I wasn’t lacking for attention. These are the cards and flowers that I received during my Physical Rehab stay, not to mention the many, many wonderful visits.

Now I am home and I’ll try to get back in the blogging groove ! My energy level is very low but I will try to visit you one by one and leave my comments of “thanks”. Then, hopefully in a few days or a week, I should be able to get back to my regular blog.

‘til then … I wish the very best to you all.

Safe ... but not so sound !

2011-10-08T16:33:00.001-07:00

Well, I was hoping to have a wonderful blog entry for you with lots of pictures and a rundown of where I've been. However, that's not so easy from a hospital bed !

To make the story short...I arrived home Tuesday night and while emptying my car I tripped over a rock and fractured my femur. Not much fun, as you can imagine ... but at least the operation is over and I am in a lovely rehab here in the hospital. I start physical therapy on Monday and it should be all uphill from there.

Some of you may remember the blog that i wrote about "The I hate to exercise, exercises". I can tell you that I'm so happy now that I stayed on them because all the PT folks tell me I am a great candidate to be walking and almost back to normal in 4 to 6 weeks. So that's very encouraging and once I get home I will get my pictures going and try to get you up to date.

Hugs to all of you. Ginnie

The good ol’ daze …

2011-09-23T11:30:00.001-07:00

I won’t be blogging for a few weeks so I thought I’d post these great pictures to hold me over until I get back.

They are actual billboards posted in Detroit, Michigan by GM. If any of you out there are near my age these pictures will bring back fond memories !

I should have some interesting blog material when I get back and I will be anxious to share it with you.

‘til then … Keep on truckin'

President Obama at NC State University

2011-09-18T21:18:00.000-07:00

My granddaughter is a student at NC State and she was thrilled to see our President speak recently. Actually she was very lucky because 5,000 tickets were issued and they were down to the last 15 when she got hers.

I was so happy that she had this experience. It reminded me of the 2 times that I saw President Kennedy in person. Just being that close to the number one Head of State was awesome to me and I could tell, from her passionate response, that she felt the same way.

Here is the picture that she took of the event:

She is extremely concerned about the future of our great nation and is working hard at keeping an open mind and becoming a knowledgeable citizen. She is a grade A student and has not yet been beaten down by life as have so many of us “old-timers“.

It gives me great hope for the future of our country when I see her enthusiasm and I pray that she and others like her will be taken seriously. Our very lives could well depend upon it.

BROOKGREEN GARDENS … South Carolina

2011-09-14T18:20:00.000-07:00

I live just four hours from BROOKGREEN GARDENS but it was 20 years after I moved here that I made my first visit.

The gardens have been described as “a museum of sculpture” but it doesn’t do justice to the collection. It is many acres that combine the beauty of nature with the beauty of creative works by some of America’s most outstanding sculptors.

Hundreds of statues are placed to our viewing advantage among dogwoods, magnolias, floral settings and, my favorite, the enormous live-oaks dripping with gray/green Spanish Moss. Many statues are integrated with water...in pools or overlooking streams or small lakes.

This is a walker’s paradise. Stone plaques are strewn among the flower beds … most of them for identity but some had short poems or sayings. I got a big kick out of the one that read:

“I used to love my garden, but now my love is dead.
I found a Bachelor’s Button in Black-eyed Susan’s bed.”

I also got a chuckle out of one of the small statues in the indoor museum. It was entitled “The Dowager” and was of a nude woman, very obviously in her 80’s or older. She was portrayed in an aristocratic pose with a haughty look on her face. Her only bit of “attire” was a gold-tipped cane that she held in her hand and I had the distinct feeling that if I laughed out loud she would not have hesitated to use it on me !

BROOKGREEN GARDENS also provides tours, a boat excursion, an animal habitat and a visit to the Alston family plantation where Aaron Burr’s daughter lived.

If you ever get to Pawley’s Island, South Carolina, I would highly recommend a visit to BROOKGREEN GARDENS

Ray Bolger in Las Vegas…….1957

2011-09-10T17:05:00.000-07:00

In 1939 Ray Bolger became a household name for his rendition of the timid scarecrow in “The Wizard of Oz”; but, that wasn’t his only claim to fame. He was a song and dance man of star quality and his 1948 Broadway performance in the musical “Where’s Charley?” was proof of this. His soft-shoe rendition of “Once In Love With Amy” was the hit of that show and it became his theme song.

In 1957 I drove cross country with a friend from California to my home in Massachusetts. We made a brief stop in Las Vegas and when we saw that Ray Bolger was the featured performer at the Hotel Sahara we decided to attend.

The opening of the show was the typical girlie parade, but then the lights dimmed and Ray Bolger took the stage. We sat mesmerized as he performed ... he was so loose that you’d swear he didn’t have a bone in his entire body. Most of his routine was comical and fast-paced so we were completely unprepared for the finale.

Suddenly Ray stopped and stood as still as a statue in the spotlight. A hush came over the audience and when it was perfectly quiet the orchestra began to play “Once In Love With Amy.” Ray had not moved a muscle during this whole time but now he slipped into his soft-shoe routine while, very softly, singing the words to this lovely song.

Then he asked us, the audience, to join in and he continued to dance while tossing the lyrics to us one line at a time. We sang along as he danced and I doubt if there was a dry eye in the house…it was truly a magical moment.

I guess most people will remember Ray Bolger as traveling the Yellow Brick Road in search of a brain...but I will always cherish my memory of him in 1957, as the lovelorn Charley singing to his Amy on the stage at the Hotel Sahara in Las Vegas.

Photographers … my grandmother & my husband

2011-09-07T11:05:00.000-07:00

Around 1885 the gelatin dry plate glass negative was introduced and my Grandmother Prentiss was thrilled. She was an avid photographer and a very adept one. She not only took pictures but she also developed and printed them.

My family is lucky to have retained many of my grandmother’s glass negatives and we’ve been able to make prints from them. The little girl in the picture below is her daughter, my mother. She and her sister were favorite subjects, as were landscapes, structures and, of course, the formal family portraits.

Fast forward to the late 1950’s when my husband appeared on the scene. He had just left “Life” magazine when I met him and was embarking on a free-lance career in photography. How different this was from the days of the old glass plates; but, nevertheless, it was still a cumbersome process.

I remember all the equipment that he had and how we made over a small bathroom in our apartment to be his darkroom. He would spend hours in there … enhancing, enlarging and printing the photos and then I would pitch in and help to wash them in the bathtub. They were then clipped to a line to dry.

Here are just two of his photos. The portrait is of Margaret Bourke White, the famous “Life” photographer and the other is a prize winning photo that he took for “Time” magazine.

Unfortunately Dick’s career as a photographer was cut short due to illness but it was challenging and fun while it lasted. I often wonder what both he and my grandmother would think of the advancements in the photographic field if they were alive today.

I keep my little digital camera with me always and love to record what I see. However, I can’t help but feel a little guilty when I produce a half decent picture and realize I did it with the aid of my trusty HP photosmart … a far cry from their devotion and expertise !

1977 … Hitching to North Carolina

2011-09-03T15:44:00.000-07:00

In the summer of 1977 my 17 yr. old son and his friend were restless and looking for an adventure. They came to me with a plan and, after a lengthy discussion, I agreed.

They had decided to hitchhike from Dutchess County, New York to Pinehurst, North Carolina … a distance of approximately 750 miles. His Dad and younger brother were already there working on a small building project and this would be a complete surprise for them.

The boys were short on money but they insisted they’d be fine. I wondered if I was crazy to let them go as I watched them trek down the highway looking like Mutt and Jeff… my son being 6’3” and his friend barely 5’ 10”. With tears in my eyes and trepidation in my heart I drove home and waited for their call.

Of course I was a nervous wreck but that call did come 4 days later and they were fine. They’d completely surprised my husband and younger son and the plan was for them to stay for the next two weeks and then they’d all drive home together.

I remember being so happy that it was a tame adventure and that my fears were boundless … they were safe and sound. It would be years before they shared the actual facts of the trip !

No wonder they weren’t worried about money. They rarely had to spend any. They’d get a ride from one big city to another and always planned it so they'd get there late in the afternoon. Then they’d find the busiest hotel in the vicinity and pretend to be registered there. They’d swim in the pool, which cooled them off as well as acted as a shower and then they’d wander to the lobby and check out the billboards. There was always an eating event of one sort or another listed and they’d just wander in. I guess being young and nice looking didn’t hurt since they said they were never questioned. Isn’t that amazing?

Then, to add insult to injury, they’d take the elevator to the top floor and bed down on the roof !! One night it rained and they settled for the corridor. So the only expense they incurred was for food and I’ll bet they weren’t shy about “doggie bags” from those free dinners they attended either.

So, that’s the “rest of the story” and all I can say is thank goodness I wasn’t aware of it then. It still gives me chills when I think of the “what if’s”. That old adage Ignorance is bliss is surely true in my case.

A walk back in time …

2011-08-29T17:07:00.001-07:00

The last thing that Matt and I expected to see on our trip home from Beaufort, South Carolina was the ruins of a burned out church.

We were traveling along a lovely tree lined road where the trees were dripping with Spanish Moss and we almost missed it. At first glance it looked like the sort of Italian ruins that you would see in Rome.

When we stopped and walked inside it was like turning back the pages of history. This was the remains of the red-brick Sheldon Church, built in 1775.

It was burned by General Augustine Prevost's British troops in May 1779, less than 25 years after it was built. It was then rebuilt in 1826 and given the name of Sheldon Church of Prince William's Parish.

40 years later, in 1865, Sherman's 15th corps under General John Logan once more burned the church to the ground. This was considered as part of Sherman's march to the sea.

As I strolled the grounds I could hardly believe that this place had once been the scene of such devastation. Now it is a peaceful tourist spot but it‘s also a reminder of the futility of war and man’s pursuit of it. Will it never change?

Another mini-vacation…

2011-08-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

Here is my son Matt in front of the lovely columbarium in Beaufort, South Carolina that he completed four years ago. You can tell by his grin that he’s pretty happy with the results.

We were there because the church added an additional unit and his job was to put on the finishing touches. Happily he‘d asked me to come along for the ride. You may remember that we did the same thing last April … but it was to the mountains of North Carolina that time.

The pictures show how it’s done. The mason follows a specific plan and then Matt adds the decorative “doors“ … usually in granite or marble.

Each niche is a storage area for the cremated remains and the granite doors are engraved with the particulars just like a traditional gravestone.

Matt loves this type of work and I love the fact that he takes me with him. It’s a win-win situation for us both !

OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES ...

2011-08-22T17:39:00.000-07:00

A dear friend who has passed away told me how this incident changed his life. I always think of it when I remember him and thought you might enjoy it too.

He was in his twenties and his wife had left him in charge of their three year old daughter. It was close to Christmas so he thought it would be great fun to go shopping for presents with her. He could just imagine the joy that his little girl would experience when she saw the myriad of gifts that he planned to buy for her.

She was a typically active three year old and he was a bit of an absent minded professor so his wife insisted that he use a harness when they went shopping. This was a safety device that fit very much like a vest and had a strong cord attached so that she could wander only as far as he allowed. This proved to be very handy and he was able to let her meander along while he picked out presents.

But the venture wasn’t turning out like he’d imagined. She barely smiled and didn’t seem particularly interested in any of the toys that he showed her. He persevered, however, and his cart was almost overflowing with goodies when he checked out. With great care he maneuvered his little girl and the packages out to the car.

As he opened the trunk and was putting the gifts inside he felt a tug on the harness cord. He turned to see that his little child was squatting on the pavement. He forgot the packages and rushed to her side, afraid that she’d been injured in some way.

Much to his surprise she looked up at him with a radiant smile on her face and pointed to what was fascinating her. It was a single flower pushing it’s way up through a small crack in the pavement... a gift more precious to her than all the ones that he had bought !

The 1940’s, SPIKE JONES & his CITY SLICKERS !

2011-08-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

Now this is really going back in time but when I was a little girl I remember how much my family loved to listen to the radio and we especially loved to hear Spike Jones. He and his orchestra were loud, corny and irreverent but they were also hysterical and it was a relief to laugh in those war-torn years.

Spike’s orchestra, consisting of 12 to 16 talented musicians, played practically anything that made a loud noise, including cow bells, horns and whistles. A washboard was Spike’s musical choice.

I loved the way he murdered the classics and, particularly, his version of “The William Tell Overture”. He turned this serious classic into a frantic and corny horse race entitled “Girdle in the Stretch” and featuring the horse, “Feitlebaum”, who, against all odds runs the entire race as a distant last and suddenly surges ahead to win!

For those who have not heard it, here is a sample of the words being called out as “The William Tell Overture” plays softly in the background:

“It’s a beautiful day for the race. Stu Chan is the favorite today, Assault is in there, Dog Biscuit is three to one, Safety Pin has been scratched and at twenty-to-one: … Feitlebaum.

THERE THEY GOOOOOOOOO!...Cabbage is second by a head, Banana is coming up thru the bunch... aaaand Feitlebaum …(etc., etc)

Around the turn, heading for home, it’s Stu Chan and Dog Biscuit. Girdle’s in the stretch, Mother-In-Law nagging in the rear and, OH, OH, here comes Feitlebaum and it’ll either be a photo finish or an oil painting...And THERE GOES The WINNERRRRRRR.....
it’s FEITLEBAUM !!”

I know...it’s corny and slapstick and wouldn’t have a chance on today’s stage, but it was great fun in the 40’s and a wonderful memory.

The many colors of a RAINBOW …

2011-08-15T18:56:00.000-07:00

One of my old time blogger friends posted an entry a few years back entitled “A guy who never met a Jew before”. As the title suggests it described the breaking down of age old prejudices.

Whenever I think of that it brings to mind the day that I attended my first AA meeting. It was in 1989 and I was “The girl who’d never met an alcoholic”. I remember looking around the room and thinking that I had absolutely nothing in common with this strange group of humanity.

I was no longer a child and I, literally, couldn’t see where I could gain anything from these “misfits”. I had always thought of myself as a liberal, well educated and non-prejudicial person but this was taking things a bit far !

Thankfully, I had a wise Sponsor who suggested that I reach out and try to find the similarities in my fellow members, rather than the differences. She taught me to listen.

All of a sudden the world seemed to open up before me. I realized that I had been living in a vacuum…and a boring one at that. I became teachable and the more I listened and opened my heart and my ears the more I learned.

My friends today are a conglomeration of different races, and ethnicities. They range in age from 17 to 86 and not a day passes that I don’t learn something new from them. We share laughter and tears and the knowledge that we will be here for each other as we continue on our journey of sobriety.

Today I feel like I have a metaphorical rainbow that covers and protects me. It is made up of the melding of all these colorful characters ... and to think that I almost let them pass me by !

PAPA LEE’S Typewriter…1942

2011-08-12T16:30:00.000-07:00

Some of you will remember that I wrote recently about being contacted by the man who bought my grandparents house in 1968. He mentioned that the small upstairs room off the big bedroom had been made into a nursery for his newborn.

That little room was my grandfather’s office and I remember it well. When I was nine years old my sister Peggy and I spent a month with our grandparents in Plainfield, New Jersey. We had traveled by train from Boston and it was a grand adventure for both of us.

My Grandfather (Papa) was a writer and I often sat with him in the evenings and on the weekends when he wrote in his little office on the 2nd floor. It was crowded with papers and books and all sorts of fascinating office paraphernalia and smelled of his pipe tobacco. I loved it.

It was especially exciting when Papa would allow me to peck away on his old typewriter. I had visions of writing “the” book of the century, but if read my letter you will be able to see that I had a long way to go !

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY… ??????

2011-08-06T13:48:00.000-07:00

My friend Jan gave me the following list … sounds about right to me !

ARTERY … the study of painting
BACTERIA … the back door to the cafeteria
BARIUM … what doctors do when patients die
CAT SCAN ….searching for Kitty
CAUTERIZE … made eye contact with her
DILATE … to live long
ENEMA … not a friend
MORBID … a higher offer
OUTPATIENT … a patient who has fainted
PELVIS … second cousin to Elvis
SEIZURE … a Roman Emperor
TERMINAL ILLNESS … getting ill at the airport

And last but not least …

NITRATES … cheaper than day rates

“SMOKE ! SMOKE! SMOKE ! THAT CIGARETTE” …1947

2011-08-02T16:32:00.000-07:00

How many of you “old timers” remember that hit record by “Tex” Williams ? It was written in 1947 by Merle Travis and is a rambling song with many stanzas but the chorus is the part that most people my age remember. It goes like this:

“Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death.
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait,
But you just gotta have another cigarette.”

I was just 14 at the time but I loved that song. I also loved the movies and couldn’t wait to emulate the sophisticated ladies with their long cigarette holders. Ah, the elegance of it all !

By 1955 I was out of college and on my own. Smoking was a “rite of passage” and I joined the crowd. I never did get the long holder but I felt very stylish as I puffed away.

In 1957 I caught the flu bug & was terribly ill for about 5 days. I remember that the first thing I did when I felt better was to light a cigarette. It immediately sent me into paroxysms of coughing and set back my recovery for about 2 more days. As a result I decided to quit smoking and I did. Lucky me !!

It would be approximately 40 years before any real inroads were made regarding a ban on cigarettes. It is incredulous to me when I think that it was actually condoned in the ER where I started working in 1978. Now that same Hospital is 100% smoke-free

Now it is 2011 and I know there are still die-hard (pardon the pun) smokers out there who resent the bans on smoking, but, I, for one, can breathe easier … and I hope you can too !

SHHHHH ....it was a surprise !

2011-07-31T11:32:00.000-07:00

It was a surprise 70th birthday party for a good friend and she was, indeed, surprised ! About 50 people came and the food and fellowship were awesome but …

That’s not why I’m writing this entry. What I want to tell you is what we gave her and why. This lady is one of those persons who sincerely care for the welfare of others. She has always been a “giver” and the list of charities that have benefitted from her attention is long. She is not wealthy but has always given above and beyond her means.

As much as we all love to give gifts we decided that the last thing she would need or want would be more of them. So, we devised a plan to have the guests bring cards and, in lieu of gifts, to contribute whatever they could to a “treasure chest”. This would be her money to spend as she saw fit.

Well, the party is over, the guests have gone home but the memories linger on. She was thrilled with the chest and today told us that she’d received $326 dollars which she will donate to our county’s Food Bank!

It’s a WIN, WIN situation for us all and we couldn’t be more pleased.
********************************************************************
ADDENDUM: I just received an email from her and she said that some of the people who couldn't make it to the party contributed anyway and the total now is actually $406.

A POWERFUL LESSON LEARNED … the hard way !

2011-07-28T16:58:00.000-07:00

This is not my usual type of entry but bear with me … I am so fed up and frustrated that I just have to get this off my chest.

So many of us voted for change in 2008 and we were thrilled to have Obama elected. The first two years were a challenge but, little by little we could see progress. Maybe…just maybe… the powers that be would listen to the middle class … maybe we’d have a chance for survival.

And then came the mid-term elections and we, who had elected Obama, COMPLETELY LET HIM DOWN. We failed to come out in droves, like we did when he ran in 2008, and the result is what we have today … a completely divided Washington and a bunch of fanatical right wingers who tell us lies and are determined to undermine every single proposal put forth by the Democrats… or even their own more moderate party members.

Whatever happened to Statesmanship? When did compromise become a dirty word? We are now being held hostage by a completely self-absorbed bunch of Tea Party Republicans and we have NOONE TO BLAME BUT OURSELVES !

I have no idea how this fiasco will unfold but I hope that we’ve learned a powerful lesson...and I pray it's not too late.

An amazing event caught in “the WEB”

2011-07-24T14:33:00.000-07:00

Some of you faithful readers may remember the entries that I’ve made about my Grandfather, Harry Lee. He was the author of two books and a play about St. Francis. He lived with his wife Mary in Plainfield, New Jersey. (That’s Papa in the picture and copies of a booklet of poems that he wrote, illustrated and hand printed for his grandchildren.)

He died in the 50’s and my Grandma lived on in the house with her daughter Lillian until they were both put in a rest home late in the 60’s.

Now, fast forward to the present. I recently received an email from a man named Tom Mac who, while surfing the web, came across my blog entries about Harry Lee. As he said, he felt like he’d hit the Jackpot! In 1968 he and his family bought my grandparents house and lived there for quite a few years.

He was able to tell me all about the changes in the neighborhood and even recalled the brook beyond the back yard where I remember catching fire flies at night. When his 4th child was born in 1970 the small room off the upstairs bedroom, (where Papa wrote those books) was their nursery.

And now to the amazing part … One day, shortly after moving in, his 7 year old daughter asked, “Who is that person at the top of the stairs?” When noone was found they chalked it up to “kiddie imagination”. Then, while “noodling on the keys” of his piano Tom would often feel that someone was watching but he never caught sight of anyone. Their dog must have felt the same way because he would run to the stairs and start to bark as if someone were coming down or going up.

Tom says that he and his children, who witnessed it also, never felt threatened and even now they talk about it frequently. I find it fascinating and would love to know if it was a male or a female that his daughter saw.

My grandfather was a blithe spirit … a dreamer, a writer and a poet. I can well imagine that he‘d “stayed on“ after his death to see to the well being of his beloved Mary and how much he would have wanted to welcome the new family to his house. How frustrated he must have felt … not being able to make contact !

I feel like I’ve found a new friend in Tom … one with a connection to my past. He says he still misses the place and I can understand that. He also says that he has more stories to relate and I have a strong hunch that they’ll end up right here as blog entries !

The Staten Island Ferry … 1957

2011-07-21T17:11:00.000-07:00

There’s nothing much hotter than the city streets of Manhattan in summertime and I remember one August Saturday in 1957 in particular. Although I had procured a job I was new to the city and had few friends so on this particular day I was taking a long walk and feeling forlorn and sorry for myself

The streets seemed to be deserted and the usual hustle and bustle of the “Big Apple” had come to a standstill. Air conditioning was practically unheard of then, with the exception of the movie theaters, so it was near impossible to find a way to keep cool.

Suddenly I remembered what a long-time resident had told me about the Staten Island Ferry. “It’s the biggest bargain in town“, he’d said so I decided to give it a try and it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’d made since moving to NY City.

The Terminal was near Battery Park and the Subway that I took to get there actually cost more than the ferry ride… 10 cents for the subway and just 5 cents for the ferry. It was mid morning when I boarded the ship and I was thrilled to feel a breeze as we took to the open water.

I found my depression ebbing away as I immersed myself in this new adventure. The steam generated ferry seemed to be in no hurry and we had plenty of time to enjoy spectacular views of Ellis Island and The Statue of Liberty. Within half an hour we had reached Staten Island and I spent a few hours getting acquainted with the town and visiting the local zoo.

The return trip provided even better views. We passed very close to Governor’s Island and watched in awe as the lower Manhattan skyline materialized. It was the perfect ending to an enchanted day and I felt lucky to live in this wonderful city where a nickel could buy such a treat.

That nickel fee for the Staten Island Ferry lasted for many years but it increased slowly until it hit a high of 50 cents per ride in the ‘90‘s. Then, in 1997, the city of New York decided to suspend all charges. The same trip that I had enjoyed for 5 cents is now FREE … amazingly making it an even greater bargain than it was 40 years earlier !

HEY, DIDDLE, DIDDLE”

2011-07-16T16:24:00.000-07:00

“Hey, diddle, diddle…the cat and the fiddle…and the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport...and the dish ran away with the spoon.”

That’s one of the oldest Mother Goose rhymes and I used it as the basis for this wall mural that I painted a few years back. It was a fun project and the parents of the yet-to-be-born baby were happy with their new nursery.

I, however, couldn’t get that silly rhyme out of my head. I would be working on something entirely different and it would come back to haunt me. What did it mean? Where had it come from and who was the imaginative person who wrote it? I kept thinking that if I were a foreigner just learning to speak English I would be completely baffled by that jingle.

I decided to do a little research and, bless the internet, I came up with some interesting ideas as to the origin of that rhyme. The one that seemed to be most plausible was from Wikipedia and I quote: “It is likely that this poem is a satire of a scandal during the time of Queen Elizabeth I. The cat is Elizabeth and the dog is Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, whom she once referred to as her ‘lap dog’. It is also speculated that the ‘dish’ is a server at the royal court, whereas the ‘spoon’ referred to the taste-tester.”

Interesting stuff...except where does the cow come in and why is it jumping over a moon? I guess I’ll go to my grave pondering these earth-shaking questions. I did, however, find a version of this poem that my animal-loving friends will relate to, so I will close with that:

“Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat did a piddle...all over the kitchen floor. The little dog laughed to see such a mess...so the cat did a little bit more.”

My Summer with the HIPPIES … 1967

2011-07-12T15:05:00.000-07:00

In 1967 my husband, three children and I were living in New York, about 100 miles North of NY City. We had a small Real Estate business in our home and one day two young Vassar students showed up. They were dressed in the typical hippie attire of the ‘60’s and were looking for a place to rent for the summer. They needed a place that was cheap and that could accommodate 6 girls.

We liked the girls and I wasn’t surprised when I heard my husband make them an offer. He represented a group of investors that had just bought a 300 acre farm in the next County. The farmhouse on the property was very old and barely livable. But it did have 5 bedrooms, a rudimentary kitchen, electricity and running water.

He proposed a rental agreement that included paying $800 for the 8 weeks. Then, if, under my supervision and working 6 hours a day Monday through Friday for the 8 weeks, they would help with emptying, cleaning and painting the inside of the house, we would return the money at the end of the summer.

The girls were ecstatic and we signed papers that day. Little did I know that this was the first link in a chain of events that would provide me with one of the best summers that I would ever know!

A few weeks later the girls moved in. By Monday they had already planted a small garden in the back yard and had jugs of water sitting in the sun, filled with a variety of exotic tea leaves to make “sun tea”. They had also made “house rules” and one of these was that, during the 6 hour work day, each girl would have an hour to play the music of her choice.

For the rest of the summer whenever we were working we would have music. One girl’s dad was an opera singer and she would play the classics. Then it would be Heavy Metal or Rhythm & Blues or The Beatles, or the new sound of Pink Floyd.

We didn’t only listen to the music … we danced our way through the dullness of washing a floor or stripping wallpaper. We’d sing and mimic the artists and we’d talk, talk, talk. I had been out of college for 13 years and it was exhilarating to be back in that atmosphere. I felt younger than I had for ages.

A few of the stodgy neighbors complained about our “hippie” farm, but we paid little heed to that. The girls were reliable and fun to be with and they put life back into that old farmhouse. By the end of the summer we hated to see them go.

It’s interesting to note that one year later nearly half a million “real hippies” congregated 30 miles north of the property at the Woodstock Festival. It was touted as “a weekend of music, love and peace“...but I’d had my share of that already !

The sum & substance of my corn field !!

2011-07-08T15:13:00.000-07:00

Can you believe this? This measly, although cute, little 2 ¼ inch ear of corn is one of four that I finally reaped after 2 months of sunshine and daily watering. I even tried sweet talk but it made no impression, as is obvious.

I’ve just about given up on outdoor gardening. I also had a large tomato plant that seemed to be doing well but the yield there was a disappointment too.

I’m envious of you bloggers, from all corners of this amazing world, who post those wonderful photos of your crops...be it vegetables or flowers. There’s no denying the fact that y’all (as they say here in the South !) have a green thumb and mine is beige or downright colorless.

From now on I’m coming inside and sticking with the paintbrush !

My front porch comes alive …

2011-07-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

This is my little house and you can see that it sits near the road and has a small porch with a concrete floor. The floor was gray and dull and, although we lived with it like that for many years, I always felt it could be livened up.

As you regular readers know I love to decorate with paint. I actually have a small business called “Snowflakes”. I create custom designs for my clients and this can come in many forms such as in murals, painted furniture and faux painted rugs. The inside of my house reflects this and, about 5 years ago, I decided to bring the “fun” outside too.

After I took all the measurements I was able to map out my design. Since the concrete had never been treated I decided to use just plain exterior gloss house paint on it. I felt sure it would soak in and, with two coats of paint, it did and it’s held up very well. I touched it up about 3 years ago and then this past Spring I scrubbed it down and gave it a complete new coat. Here’s the result:

Now I’m set for another few years and I even got an additional
bonus that I didn’t expect. As I was painting it many passers-by stopped to chat and to ask me for ideas for their patio or garage or cellar floors. My refurbished floor has not only brightened up my porch … it’s also added a whole new batch of acquaintances !

1963...The DR’s ORDERS I should have ignored

2011-06-30T16:46:00.000-07:00

In 1963 our family moved to upstate New York. We needed a family doctor ... primarily for Dick, my husband, who was a Type 1, very brittle, diabetic. Endocrinologists were unknown then and we settled on a sweet and kindly country doctor.

Our “getting-to-know-each-other” visit went well and he gave us two recommendations that he felt would ease our lives;

#1 was addressed to me. He said that diabetics react adversely to stress and that I could make Dick’s life much easier if I were to always keep a calm house-hold and try not to argue or do anything that would upset him…i.e.: ‘keep the peace at any cost”.

#2 was in answer to his question about our lifestyle. Did we smoke or drink? “No” to the smoking and “yes” to the drinking, but only on weekends or when we were out socializing. His advice was to either quit drinking completely or to have just one drink a day but do it every day. He felt that keeping the same daily pattern would help Dick regulate his insulin intake.

“Not drinking” was never an option since we’d never had a problem with it. So … now we were daily drinkers, seldom adhering to the “one drink”, and our house-hold was as calm as I could possibly make it with three small children and a brand new Real Estate business that we were trying to make work.

I guess you can see where I’m heading with this. I convinced myself that I could never express my feelings for fear that it would “upset the apple cart” and, as the years passed I regressed further and further into myself. We were like many couples who find themselves not communicating...living side by side, sharing a household but little else.

The children were a great diversion and we kept our energies concentrated on them. We never lost our love for each other or for the family unit but I found myself relying more and more on our nightly “one drink” to keep everything under control .

The handwriting was on the wall. The slow and insidious trek toward addiction had begun and it would be 26 years before I could no longer deny it. In 1989 I went into rehab and, with the help of the amazing program of AA, I’ve had 22 years of sober living. It’s been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done but it’s also been the most rewarding.

If any of you who read this can identify PLEASE get help now. Don’t waste year after year like I did and, be assured …

If I can do it anyone can !

“To the conqueror …” 1964

2011-06-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

In 1964 my husband, myself and our three children made the big transition from an apartment in New York City to a lakeside home in "small town, USA". It was a culture shock, to say the least, but we loved the sounds and sights of the lake. In many ways it seemed to be noisier than the city, especially at night when the night critters kept up a constant din.

We thought we were attuned to these sounds until one Spring morning when we were awakened before dawn by a strange noise. It was difficult to place where it came from, but it sounded very much like the rustling of many newspapers.

As the dawn brightened we were able to discern three ducks in the water very close to shore. Two of the ducks were fighting...the thrashing of their wings producing the strange rustling sounds. The other duck was at a discreet distance...aloof to the whole sordid affair and we finally figured out what was happening.

Obviously these were two male ducks fighting for the attention of the fair, feathery maiden. We watched in amazement as the battle played out and finally one of the ducks gave up and skulked off. The duck-duel was over and the winner could claim his prize.

I don't know what we expected at this point...perhaps a tender touching of bills or a graceful encircling of two ducks in ecstasy. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

The male duck swam behind the female and proceeded to prod and nudge her on her feathered rump. He was anything but gentle as he pushed her along toward the middle of the lake for one and all to see.

"After all", he seemed to be saying, "I am the conqueror and to the conqueror go the spoils........"

NEVER UNDERESTIMATE … a senior’s thought process.

2011-06-22T20:39:00.000-07:00

My mother and the American flag ... why do I pair them here? Because they conjure up a fond memory and one that I’d like to share with you.

This picture of my mother is when she was in her early 80’s. I wish I had one when she was 92 (when my story takes place) but this will have to do.

She was really a wonderful mother and you can see that she had a sweet demeanor. She outlived my father by many years and was quite independent until inevitably she had to move to an assisted living area and finally, in her 90’s to a nursing home.

It was at this time that she completely lost her memory. Of course this saddened us but she was quite content so we’d hide our sense of loss when we visited and she was always happy to see us, although she had no idea that we were her daughters.

I remember so clearly the lovely Spring day that I took her for a short wheelchair ride outside. We stopped near a bench where I could sit and, although I tried to keep up a happy dialogue, I could tell that Mother was agitated about something. “It’s wrong...all wrong...” she kept muttering and I had no idea what she meant.

Finally she pointed to the flagpole and it became clear. There was our beloved American flag UPSIDE DOWN on the pole. The interesting part is that the flag was in full view for everyone coming and going from the rest home but it was my mother who caught the flaw. She may have lost her memories but she knew when something wasn’t right!

They never could figure out how the flag was hoisted up that way but they soon put it to right and thanked my mother mightily for her keen eyesight.

SMALL SPACE LIVING … and a solution.

2011-06-18T10:51:00.000-07:00

I live in a small house with no useable attic or cellar area so storage has always been a problem. I do have a pantry and an area where I have my washer and dryer and lots of shelves for things like paints, household items, etc, but, other than that I only have two medium sized closets. (Plenty of space for me now but a challenge when the whole family was here.)

The house didn’t have an indoor bathroom when it was built in 1902 and the one it had when we bought it in 1978 was very rudimentary. It was wedged at the end of the wide central hallway and actually had a door in it that opened to a small porch.

It was my husband who came up with the idea of enclosing the porch and using that area for storage. That was a great idea but after remodeling the existing bathroom I didn’t want an ugly old door on the INSIDE of that room. We tossed ideas around and I think it was my oldest son who came up with the idea of the “hidden door”... and here it is:

This is my shelf door and it’s held many different displays over the years…(especially nice at Christmas time). Right now the bathroom theme is Mexican. And here you see that it is, indeed, a door and opens right into the storage area.

This was a clever and easy way to solve our problem.

Almost no one realizes that it’s actually a door and I’ve had fun with that over the years. I even have a friend who brought her grandchildren over to see if they could find my “secret room” ...

... which they didn’t, by the way !

FIDDLIN’ at the MANESS POTTERY & MUSIC BARN

2011-06-14T17:09:00.000-07:00

If you’re ever in Moore County, North Carolina, on a Tuesday night you might want to check this out. Blue Grass, Country, Gospel and just plain pickin’ and singin’ are all jumbled up in this amazing venue.

It’s in the heart of Pottery Country ... just six miles West of Carthage. The first thing you’ll see when you approach the barn are the haphazardly parked cars lining the street and people of all ages streaming into the large barn. Many of them carry violins, banjos and other musical instruments and the click, click of some shoes indicates that there are cloggers among them.

There’s no admission charge and no formal program for the evening. The people arriving with instruments are the ones who will provide the entertainment. Each group gets approximately ½ hour. It all starts around 5 pm and goes on until all have had a chance to play.

The quality of the local talent is pretty impressive. The night we were there I heard a cello rendition of “The House of the Rising Sun” that was outstanding. It’s actually considered a great honor to play at the Clyde Maness’ barn and it‘s not unusual for a well known Country or Blue Grass star to show up unannounced.

The audience is made up of country folk who know their music and they’re not shy about it either. The aisles fill up with people of all ages dancing and clapping to their heart’s content. At some point a basket is passed for donations and people pay what they can afford.

It’s a far cry from Broadway ... but for good clean “down home” entertainment it can’t be beat.

HALCYON DAYS … before the fall

2011-06-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

This is a poignant poster advertising the 1962 award winning movie “Days of Wine and Roses”. All these many years later I still think that it’s one of the most powerful movies ever to address the problems of alcoholism and the family involvement.

Jack Lemmon plays a public relations man, Joe, whose work life revolves around wining and dining his clients. His ability to consume alcohol seems boundless and he‘s sure that it makes him a vibrant and top notch ad man. When he meets Kirsten (Lee Remick) she prefers chocolate to alcohol but he quickly convinces her that Brandy Alexanders (made up of brandy and creme de cocoa) are just as delicious and much more “fun”.

They eventually marry but their love is insufficient to prevent them from the downward spiral that alcohol brings to them. After a near-death escapade Joe is visited by a man from AA and he starts the long journey to put his life back on a sober path. Unfortunately Kirsten has sunk too far into addiction and is incapable of this. It is truly heartbreaking to watch her demise.

In 1994 Jack Lemmon was the guest star on the Bravo TV show “Inside the Actors Studio”. The host, James Lipton, asked him if he had a favorite role and he said it was the role of Joe in “Days of Wine and Roses” and especially the part where he stood up in the AA meeting and he said “my name is Joe and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Which I am, incidentally”, he went on to say and when Mr. Lipton asked “Are you talking as Joe or as Jack Lemmon?” he replied, “No, as Jack Lemmon. I’m an alcoholic.” James Lipton was taken completely unaware and says that Mr. Lemmon's quiet admission was one of the most powerful moments that he’s ever had on his show.

The movie and it’s stars were nominees for Oscars in 1963 and, though the stars didn’t win, the song “Days of Wine and Roses” (written by Henry Mancini and words by Johnny Mercer) was a winner. The film may be old but the message is timeless and the song will always be one of my very favorites.

Hilarious WORD DEFINITIONS …

2011-06-06T17:14:00.000-07:00

Here are some of the winners of this year’s Washington Post’s Mensa Invitational. The readers were asked to pick a word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing ONE letter and then supplying a new definition:

Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

The Washington Post also published the winning submissions to its yearly contest in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words. Here are some of them:

Coffee, n. …The person upon whom one coughs.

Flabbergasted, adj. … Appalled by discovering how much weight one has gained..

Abdicate, v. … To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

Esplanade, v. … To attempt an explanation while drunk..

Willy-nilly, adj. … Impotent.

Pokemon, n. … A Rastafarian proctologist

“FUR FLYERS” New York City, 1963

2011-06-02T16:05:00.000-07:00

This could be a sketch of my good friend Jimmi G. back in the 60’s. She passed away 3 years ago and my world is a little dimmer because of that.

Jimmi was an imposing character. We met in NY City shortly after I was married and as I went on to have three babies she went on to accrue a tidy nest egg in the antique business. The disparity in our lives mattered little to us and we remained close friends.

Jimmie was forever looking for new outlets for her creativity and in the early ’60’s she hit on an idea that took off like wildfire. She took her accumulated cash and traveled through New England and the East Coast buying up vintage fur hats and coats. Many of them were missing buttons and some had even come apart at the seams. None of this discouraged her. She had an idea and to watch it come to fruition was exciting.

She came back to New York driving her old wooden-sided station wagon packed to the brim with fur items. She was a savvy buyer and had paid little to nothing for her purchases. Most people were happy to get rid of their musty, old outer wear and were thrilled to have made a dollar or two on the exchange.

The next thing on Jimmi’s agenda was a store front and she found the perfect one on 8th St, near Greenwich Village. She named her store “Fur Flyers” and opened for business on a windy, Fall day. A good friend of ours was a writer for “The Village Voice” and he gave her a great send-off. Within days it was apparent that Jimmi’s store was the “talk of the town” and it became the “in” thing to be seen in a vintage item from “Fur Flyers”.

It is interesting to note that a store of this sort in New York City could never be successful in today’s climate. Anti-fur Societies would be in an uproar. But it is just as interesting to note that Jimmi (who loved animals) would have found this ludicrous. To her mind she was not advocating the killing of animals to make clothing...

...she was merely practicing the age old art of re-cycling.

OUT IN MY CORNFIELD …

2011-05-29T13:48:00.000-07:00

How do you like my cornfield? I decided on a whim to plant some corn since I was given the 4 seedlings that you see here. They were about 12 inches high. I planted them in a sunny spot about 3 weeks ago and look at them now ... strong and healthy and topping the 3 foot mark.

The funny part is that I have no idea what variety of corn this is. I also have no idea how high the stalks will grow and if I will actually be able to harvest an ear or two. I love fresh corn and would get a big kick out of eating from my own crop!

I just hope that the deer will not notice my 4 little stalks. Surely they wouldn’t deprive a nice old widow woman like me of her small crop ... or would they???

I’ll keep you posted.

NOT LOST ... just hidden

2011-05-25T14:44:00.000-07:00

This was my husband’s workshop and I have just recently repainted it and tried to spark it up a bit. The original structure burned to the ground in 1985 and this is the replacement.

While working on the building I remembered that Dick, my husband, had a concrete pad poured and while it was still wet he had scribbled the title of a poem ("Know Your Mess") that our oldest son had composed for him in 1983 … and the date of the pouring. I was sure of this but for the life of me I couldn’t find it on the pad.

Dick died in 1990 and the barn and the concrete have taken a lot of wear and tear since then. I was very disappointed but figured that his writing had worn away as well. Then I remembered the old technique of dry-brushing over the concrete to see if it would show up … AND IT DID

I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Here’s the poem:

“Know Your Mess”

“My father’s workshop…a busy space,
But so many tools out of place.

Tools smeared by oil, others by grease,
Some should be labeled ‘rest in peace’.

Hammers hang longing to drive the spikes.
He leaves us room for broken bikes.

Slew of tiny screws, stack of wood,
Things he might use, things he never would.

My mother, his love, can’t understand
All of these things without a plan.

She brings ‘it’ up and he says “yes”,
But never has time to plan the mess.

He asks for a wrench, I hear of cost,
He always knows when they are lost.

Then he asks me for the pliers,
I think I saw them by the tires.

But he knows just where they are,
He had to look some, none too far.

It takes a man years to know his mess,
Where all his tools lie, more or less.

My father’s work shop, lots of space,
And every tool, he knows it’s place.”

Wedding bells were ringing …

2011-05-21T15:53:00.000-07:00

… not only for the royal couple !

Two young friends of mine took the “big step” recently too, and (although their wedding held few similarities with the big event in London) I have to admit that the idea to paint a commemorative tray for them came from seeing the ones being sold in honor of Prince William and Kate.

Richard and Kelly’s wedding was held outdoors and over 200 well-wishers were there to celebrate. It was a glorious occasion and will be long remembered by all those who attended.

My little tray was nothing like the elaborate ones that were made for the royal couple … no gold edging for instance … but it was made to serve the same purpose … just a small remembrance of the glorious day when my two friends become as one.

Easy STRESS REDUCTION plan …

2011-05-17T17:37:00.000-07:00

Recently I decided to try out this easy plan for reducing stress. You simply settle back in the most comfortable position of your choice, close your eyes and start counting slowly ... the whole time visualizing your stresses taking wing.

I do as instructed and start counting ... ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR ... I barely make it to FIVE before I see my auto insurance payment sprouting wings and drifting away.

“Wow, this is really working” I think. SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT ... and suddenly I’m taking flight. I can’t see my own wings, of course, but I trust that they have sprouted. I feel myself lifting high and I float with ease and complete serenity. I wonder where I am but it doesn’t really matter. I am stress free and it’s an amazing feeling.

I continue to count ... THREE HUNDRED AND TWO, THREE HUNDRED AND THREE .. and I find that the fog seems to be lifting and I am gently settling back to earth. But, wait, this is not earth that I touch but a sort of heavy wood.

I'm on a ship and if I’m not mistaken I’m “walking the plank”! I try desperately to stop counting. I can see the water roiling below me but I can’t stop the count. I’m up to THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY and a great weight is pushing me off the edge.

As I plunge to my death I wonder what happened to my wings. I hit the water and realize that nothing can save me now. I can’t swim and I’m taking on water fast. I can’t remember a more stressful time but I keep on counting … FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHT…FOUR HUNDRED AND NINE …

Suddenly, with a jolt, I awake and find that I am back in my own room. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I’m alive and the stresses of my live seem mediocre at best.
“I can handle those”, I say to myself… ”THIS COUNTING THING REALLY WORKS !”

Una memoria squisita…(a sweet memory)

2011-05-14T13:48:00.000-07:00

I’ve been doing some Spring cleaning and while re-organizing a closet I came across this large carry-all bag. It was from the San Lorenzo street market in Florence, Italy and it brings back the memory of a very special day.

I remember it so clearly. I was spending a month in Italy with my good friend Douglas and we’d decided to take a break from each other and to go our own way for the day. I decided to wander the streets and I soon found myself at the famous San Lorenzo street market.

This is a seemingly endless conglomeration of souvenir carts and stalls, most of them under colorful tents, with sellers hawking their wares. They literally bombard the buyer and I was not in the mood for this so when I saw a group of shoppers enter
a large building I decided to follow them.

With surprise and delight I realized that I had found my way to the famous indoor Mercato Centrale food market. It is, basically, a huge, two floor, open expanse, with hundreds of individual stands displaying fresh foods as works of art.

The main floor is devoted to meat, cheeses and dry goods but it was the upstairs that took my breath away. This area consists solely of fresh fruits and vegetables…a cornucopia of colors, shapes and sizes for the shoppers consideration.

It was a delight to watch the local women bargain for their daily groceries. The good natured bantering was carried on with lots of laughter and many hand gestures and they included me in on the fun.

I’ve never before or since had such a delightful time in a market and I remember coming away from the market not only with a bog of dried apricots … (the most delicious ones I’ve ever eaten) but with a whole new outlook on grocery shopping.

My friend FILIPPO...the “mad” Scientist/Inventor

2011-05-10T16:33:00.000-07:00

“Rumors of my demise were grossly exaggerated”, the young man stated as he caught me in an effusive bear hug. This was my introduction to Filippo, my husband’s eccentric best friend and ex-roommate

The year was 1958 and we were all living in New York City but Filippo had been “missing in action”. He was a scientist/inventor and spent a lot of time out of town researching his projects. I was glad to finally meet him. Now I could put a face to the name that my husband spoke of so frequently.

Filippo was small in stature but his dramatic flair made him a daunting personage. He had been born and bred in NY City and was the prototype of the Italian male with sparkling eyes, a thin pencil mustache and a small, pointed goatee.

One of his passions was the stock market and, shortly after we were married, we received a frantic call from him. He was “out in the hinterlands” and couldn’t get his hands on a “NY Times”. He asked Dick if he could read off the NYSE results for the day.

I started to hand the paper to Dick but he shook his head at me and went on to give Filippo a list of the reasons why this would be extremely inconvenient...not the least being the fact that he would have to get dressed and go downtown to get the paper! After some further haggling Filippo agreed to buy us each a steak dinner upon his next trip home in return for Dick getting the paper and reading the results to him. He said he’d call back within the hour.

After he hung up the phone I reminded Dick that we had the paper but he just laughed and said, “Oh, I know that...it’s just something we do”. It was more like 3 hours by the time that Filippo rang back and when he did I was amazed to hear Dick say; “Well, Chappie, I have bad news. You know that our dog is paper trained and it took you so long to get back to us that I had no choice but to use that paper for Tiger. She’s sitting on it right now, as a matter of fact.”

Then he sat back with a big grin and held the phone away from his ear. I could hear Filippo fuming and fussing on the other end and every once in awhile Dick would throw in a sympathetic “Uh, huh” until I finally heard an exasperated sigh and Filippo caved in. “O.k., o.k….I give up“ he said, “ Get your d__n dog off the paper and I’ll buy her a steak dinner too !”

This was just the start of a lifetime filled with good-natured bantering between Dick and Filippo and, although Dick has been gone since 1990, Filippo and his wife Mary have remained good friends. They drove down from New York just a few weeks ago for a three day visit and it was wonderful to renew old times.

Being 82 hasn’t slowed him down a bit !!

Training Maneuvers … Pope Air force Base at Ft. Bragg

2011-05-06T12:34:00.000-07:00

It was July of 1978 that we heard, and FELT, the first blast ! We, my husband and I, could not imagine what was happening. Even the windows were shaking and the BOOMS seem to get louder as the minutes went by.

Little did we know, when we moved to North Carolina, that we would be so close to Ft. Bragg where the army conducts training operations and maneuvers. We were to learn that this is an on-going thing here and that the guerilla training is the final exercise before Special Forces students graduate and receive their assignments.

After almost 33 years here you would think I would get used to the sounds but it is still enough to jar me awake at night and is a constant reminder that war is never far away.

My most vivid memory having to do with these test maneuvers was also in 1978. In those days Ft. Bragg was much less restricted than it is now and you could actually drive from our house straight through the base as a short cut to the center of Fayetteville.

That is exactly what my husband and I had done one afternoon and we were returning home around 9:30 at night. We had just left the Ft. Bragg compound and were proceeding on a stretch of road that was part of the Pope Air Force base. It was very dark and deserted.

All of a sudden we heard popping sounds and we stopped the car to see what it was. We watched in amazement as thousands of flares lit up the sky and we could make out low flying troop planes with their hatch doors opening wide. Then, as if on cue, the paratroopers all jumped at once.

The sky was teeming with tiny floating figures held aloft by their parachutes and slowly making their way toward the ground. Our vantage point didn’t allow us to see them actually make a landing but we did see two of the fellows get caught in tree branches.

We never could figure out why they lit up the sky so the men could see what they were jumping into instead of just practicing during daylight? But I’m glad they did. It was a surreal scene and one I will never forget.

HUBCAP MANIA !!!

2011-05-02T16:44:00.000-07:00

For some reason I’ve become enthralled with hubcaps. It all began with my last car. This was a pre-owned Acura that had wintered in Massachusetts and the wear and tear really showed on the hubcaps. I figured this was no big deal and that I would just replace them ... but, little did I know how pricey that would be !

Even the little (less than 3”) center cap that I wanted was priced at $30 EACH.

As it turned out it’s a good thing I didn’t waste the money because that’s the car that was totaled. Now I’ve replaced the car and my current hubcaps are in much better shape ... and they even have the little emblem in the center.

So now I’m all set … right ??

Wrong ! I find that my obsession with hubcaps continues even though the need for them is gone.

It’s become a game that I play while I am on the road. I am fascinated with the fact that a round circle could have so many configurations. Just when I think I’ve seem them all, I spot a new design. It’s endless.

I really do need to get a life ...

It’s not ALCOHOL-WASM …

2011-04-29T16:36:00.000-07:00

The first time I heard that saying in a meeting of Alcoholic’s Anonymous I thought I’d heard it incorrectly. After the meeting I approached the speaker and he assured me that I’d heard it right. I was too new in the program to truly understand the full impact of those words.

Now, after almost 22 years sober, I’ve come to not only under-stand that saying but to firmly believe it. Time and again I’ve seen people hit rock bottom. They come into the rooms of AA sick, bedraggled and desperate. They “will do anything” to stay sober.

But, more often than not they are “well” in a matter of months. They‘ve regained their appetites, they‘re starting to look and feel good and recovery goes out the window. “Alcoholic?,” they say, “Not me. I can take it or leave it. I’ve proved that by not drinking for X amount of days.”

We feel bad as we watch them go. They’ve caught the dreaded “alcoholwasm” syndrome and all we can do is leave the doors open for them and hope that they will be lucky enough to find their way back in before it‘s too late … for them, or sadly too often, for others.

The first thing I had to have drummed into me when I started my AA journey was that stopping drinking is actually the easiest part of recovery. It’s facing the “ism” that’s hard. The “ism’s” are the psychological and personality issues that crop up and that we couldn’t get through before without drinking. We need to face them and put them behind us.

The process of changing how we deal with life and all of it’s problems is a critical part of recovery and I work on it daily. The results are well worth the effort … and it’s really not that hard once I set my mind to the fact that I have alcoholism, not “alcoholwasm.”

As a dear friend in AA puts it: “Getting and staying sober is a cinch. All you have to do is … don’t drink, go to meetings, and change your whole damn life”.

A 3 day respite to the mountains …

2011-04-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

This lovely church is located in the western hills of North Carolina. It is also where my middle son was contracted to work on two columbarium’s a few weeks back. (a columbarium is defined as “a vault of niches where cremated ashes are interred”.)

The contractor has a mason construct the basic structure according to plan and then my son puts on the finishing touches … usually in marble or fine granite. He has been doing this for quite a few years and his job has taken him even as far from home as Texas.

When this job materialized he surprised me by asking if I’d like to go along and of course I jumped at the chance. Here he is … before and after.

It turned into a lovely 3 day vacation for me … spending quality time with my son … watching him work, reading, relaxing and just generally “chilling out” together.

It’s such a comfort to have him living nearby but it’s also fun for the two of us to get away from the old home scene. This little trip is a memory that will be with me forever.

Guess who came to dinner … in little old Vass, no less !

2011-04-22T16:36:00.000-07:00

Yup…it’s none other than JIMMY CARTER.

Jimmy Carter, who served our country as President from 1977 to 1981, was in Pinehurst for the wedding of his great-nephew, Jason Stapleton.

I understand that he arrived Friday night in time to attend the rehearsal dinner. The actual wedding was the next day and it was after that when the party made it’s way to the reception held at the Woodlake Country Club, a golfing community in my little town of Vass.

You pass right by my house (circa 1902) to get there …

… and you arrive at the historic Oates House (circa 1792) in Woodlake for the reception.

Now which one would you choose???

Jimmy Carter may be many things to many people but he’s definitely not a snob … his advocacy for human rights and his myriad of projects aimed to make life easier for the underdog has proved that.

Soooo… I like to think that, if he’d been given his “druthers”, he would at least have stopped for tea ! But I guess those darn Special Agents of the Secret Service had other ideas.

Maybe next time !

Too close for comfort …

2011-04-20T04:48:00.000-07:00

I am always on the lookout for interesting bits of information that I think will make a good blog entry … but this time I would have gladly forgone the story if this had never happened.

It was the 16th of April and we knew that storms and possible tornados were on the way. The sky turned that ominous slate greenish/gray and the trees were nearly bent to the ground by the force of the wind. It was a frightening feeling but our State experiences it about every year at this time so it was not a new phenomenon.

My son-in-law advised me to get to one of the back rooms since we have a very large tree that bends over my house and he could just see it landing on the roof above where I was sitting. However the worst of it passed and we breathed a sigh of relief, until …

We turned on the TV ! Then we couldn’t believe what we were seeing. Barely 25 miles north of us the damage was unbelievable. The Lowe’s Home Improvement Store was flattened beyond recognition and reports of other tornado touch-downs were flooding in. Complete trailer parks were wiped out and wind damage alone caused havoc. It was reported that over 60 tornado touch-downs were sighted. They still, as of this writing, don’t have the total fatality count.

I was concerned for my blogger friend Kenju who lives in Raleigh and dropped her an email. She said, in her reply, “The tornado that tore up 401 going north narrowly missed my place of employment. I left there today at 3:10pm and got home about 3:45. The tornado went through that same area at about 3:35-3:40 and followed me on my route home…it gives me the willies to know that I drove ahead of that storm by only about 20-30 minutes.”

Amen to that …

and heartfelt condolences go out to the others who were not so fortunate.

Ron Howard & Francis Bavier… Pinehurst, NC 1988

2011-04-16T14:08:00.000-07:00

AKA: “Opie” and “Aunt Bea”

In the 1960’s “The Andy Griffith” show dominated the TV scene and re-runs are still popular today. “Aunt Bea” was portrayed as a sweet elderly lady who loved nothing more than providing her two men (“Andy” and “Opie”) with her home baked goodies.

It is interesting to note that, in 1972, Frances Bavier (“Aunt Bea“ from the show) retired and bought a home in Siler City, NC ... a rural area that closely resembled the fictitious town of Mayberry portrayed in the TV series.

In 1978 our family moved to North Carolina and I got a job as a secretary in the ER of the large hospital in Pinehurst, NC, fairly close to Siler City. About 10 years later “Aunt Bea” suffered some medical problems that were serious enough to have her hospitalized and she spent 6 days in our facility. I never saw her but the scuttlebutt had it that she was a difficult and demanding patient. This was no surprise since I’d often read that her co-workers thought of her in the same way.

The one member of the cast who seemed to be able to placate her was Ron Howard (“Opie”). Rumor had it that he was in the Pinehurst area to see her and, sure enough, he showed up at the front desk of the ER asking for her room number. (Of course we were thrilled to give him the info and didn’t tell him he’d come in the wrong entrance!)

One of the secretaries asked him for an autograph and he promised to bring in a stock photo with his signature the next day ... which he did. He was just there for those two days but the nurses on “Aunt Bea’s” floor reported that his visit was a great boon for them. He was able to calm her down and she became a much more pliant patient.

Looking back on this memory I can’t help but see the irony of it. Here was “little Opie” turning the table on his old “Aunt Bea”. It was his turn to dish out just what she needed ... common sense and a big helping of love.

An impressive doorman … 1974

2011-04-12T15:38:00.000-07:00

Some of you young people may not recognize this face but noone of my generation could forget it. It’s James Cagney, who, in 1999 was ranked 8th among the greatest male stars of all time by the American Film Institution.

In 1961 he bought an 800 acre farm in Dutchess County, NY, the same township where my husband, 3 children and I settled three years later. Although the property was just over the hill from our house we never saw him. He was a very private man and, when at the farm, he kept to himself.

When he was in his mid 70’s he retired to the property but was seldom seen, although he contributed to the well being of the County and was much revered. (He even agreed to let the Millbrook High School, class of 1976 dedicate their yearbook to him.)

One spring day in 1974 I was grocery shopping at our little local store. My arms were full and, as I approached the door, I saw a small, hefty man holding it open for me. He was slightly hunched over and had a plaid felt hat with brim covering his head. It was tilted to give it a rakish look and, as I turned to say “thank you”, he tipped it toward me and said, “the pleasure is mine, little missy.”

There was no mistaking that gravelly voice! James Cagney was my doorman and his twinkling eyes told me that he knew it was a thrill for me. Even in his 70’s he was a captivating presence and you could tell that, as much as he loved his anonymity, he was still the consummate showman !!

Those EVAN ESAR crossword quips …

2011-04-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

The main theme of many a crossword puzzle seems to be a quip by Evan Esar. I’ve seen the name often enough but it wasn’t until a few days ago that I decided to find out more about him. It turns out that he was an American humorist who wrote “Esar’s Comic Dictionary” in 1943 and many more books on humor until his death at the ripe old age of 96. I guess that proves, once again, that “laughter is the best medicine”.

The length and humor of his quips make them perfect fodder for inclusion in a crossword grid and here are some of my favorites:

Nothing ages your car as much as the sight of your neighbor's new one.

Conscience is what makes a boy tell his mother before his sister does.

Most new books are forgotten within a year, especially by those who borrow them.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy -- and Jill a rich widow.

Admiration -- Our feeling of delight that another person resembles us.

A husband is like a fire, he goes out when unattended.

Character is what you have left when you've lost everything you can lose.

Many a man who falls in love with a dimple make the mistake of marrying the whole girl

Zoo: An excellent place to study the habits of human beings

KIVA … update APRIL, 2011

2011-04-07T05:15:00.000-07:00

You may remember that I’ve been enamored with KIVA for a long time. This is a service that specializes in micro-financing to deserving entrepreneurs the world over. For the mere LOAN of $25 I can join with others and make it possible for a person, or a group of persons, to start a small business.

At Christmas time in 2008 I invested $50. That was the amount it cost me to loan to a couple in Cambodia and to a woman in Togo.
Then my children gave me $100 for my birthday in 2009 and I loaned to 4 others.

These three represent Bolivia, Peru and Sierre Leone.

Now I can hardly believe how this has “snow-balled”. At last count I have enriched the lives of 33 needy entrepreneurs without loaning another dime of my own money. I have merely reinvested when the loans have been repaid although I have the option to withdraw my money if that were my choice.

It’s a win-win situation and so different from the handouts that some people have come to expect. I have a blank map of the world and, as I write in the countries where my loans go I receive a history lesson as well. Now I can locate such exotic places as Azerbaijan and Tajikistan and visualize my $$ going to work there.

I find this a very fulfilling venture and I know that at least two of my blogger friends, AC and Philip, think so too.

I hope you will check out the KIVA website. I’ll bet you’ll get hooked just as I have.

THE CROCUS …

2011-04-02T17:27:00.001-07:00

Old April showers made me stay
inside the window half the day.

But I forgave them when I found
a crocus peeping from the ground.

(These sweet pen and ink sketches were drawn in 1935 by my grandfather Harry Lee to accompany his original poem.)

A promise to “Maffy” … 1967

2011-03-30T04:38:00.000-07:00

Here is my son Matt, 4 yrs old, and my mother. They were great friends and loved to spend time together “fixing the problems of the world”.

In 1967 Mother came to stay for a few weeks. We’d moved to the country from NY City and had fixed up a nice room in the basement for her. It was cozy and if she wanted to read or take a nap, or just get some alone time, she would go down there. It was also where she could smoke. She knew that neither Dick nor I were smokers and that we wouldn’t be pleased to have the smell of tobacco in the main house.

Matt (or Maffy as we affectionately called him) would have been about 7 then and he was excited about her visit. He’d discovered fishing and he couldn’t wait to have her share it with him.

Sure enough she did love it and almost every day of her visit mother and Matt would wander down to the small stream that bordered our property. They would often take a lunch with them as well as their fishing rods and his little creel box complete with hooks and worms and a special place for Grandma’s cigarettes. I would love to have been privy to their talks. I’m sure they solved many of the problems of his little world, but I had no idea that they were discussing mother’s world, too.

One morning I glanced in to Matt’s creel box just before they were to take off for the stream and I realized that mother’s cigarettes were missing. When I asked about it Matt just smiled and said “Oh, didn’t we tell you? Grandma doesn’t smoke any more.”

I was amazed and when I asked mother about it she told me that Matt had tactfully and persistently kept after her until she had no excuses left ! She was to live for 31 more years and near the end of her life I asked her if she’d ever smoked again. She seemed shocked by my question. “Of course not”, she said, “I made a promise to Maffy, didn’t I ?”

“SPRING IS …”

2011-03-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

Spring is when your little girl wears pinafores,

When hopes are reborn and the rent is paid on time.

* * *

Spring is feeling ten feet tall and brand new,

A fairyland of green on green, where all things are
possible.

When my little girl, (who will be 50 this October !) was five I was inspired to write those words …

EGGSTRA ! EGGSTRA ! Read all about it …

2011-03-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

“Walmart Egg Tossers Face Charges” is the headline in our local newspaper. I kid you not … I could not make this up and to top that the three young men involved are from my hometown !

Here’s what the newspaper reported:

“Three (local) men (in their 20’s) are facing multiple misdemeanor charges after a not-so-eggs-cellent adventure in Walmart. …. (and) have been charged with larceny/shoplifting and criminal damage to property after police say they threw raw eggs inside the store,

The incident, which was captured on store surveillance video, happened at about 2:30 this morning. “They went in the store, headed to the back where the eggs were and then they started,” said ___, Aberdeen deputy police chief.

When police arrived, they discovered the three men in the parking lot. After reviewing the surveillance video police took the men into custody. The men were not employees of the store.”

Now you can imagine what happened after that story ran. The reader’s comments poured in … 55 at last count … and here are just a few of them:

** They were not egg-sperts in getting away from the police

** I bet they scrambled when they saw the Police!!!

** EGGS! OMG ... I got in more trouble when I was a kid throwing eggs. But I was a kid (not in my twenties) and back in those days there weren't security cameras. Dumb, dumber and dumbest.

** Their brains must have been fried or scrambled when they decided to do this .....

** I hope the judge doesn't go over easy on them.

** I bet the Wal-Mart folks were eggstremely happy to see the Aberdeen PD. These kids were just practical yolkers, but Wal-Mart didn't seem to be in the mood for a good yolk

** It has all the makings of a classic hard-boiled crime novel.

( and my three favorites )

** Do they get the PULLETS-A-PRIZE for hatching this stupid idea?

** EGG-ISTENTIALISTS, no doubt.

** “Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.” ~William Cowper

Our “L’il Marco” at the Bocce Restaurant, 1959

2011-03-18T19:03:00.000-07:00

I was married in 1958 and living with my husband in New York City. Our favorite eating place was an authentic Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. You would pass through the bar to get to the eating area in the back where 8 or 10 small tables were set up. It was also home to an indoor bocce court and it was fun to watch the old men play while we ate.

I found this photo on the Web and it is reminiscent of those days but not the same place. This picture was taken in 1968 at the “il Vagabondo” restaurant on E. 62nd Street. It is still in existence today.

Sadly, “our” little restaurant is long gone but this memory will be with me forever: In July of 1959 our first child was born, a son we named Mark. When he was about a month old we decided that the three of us needed a night out on the town and we headed to the Village.

The bar was very crowded and we knew many of the locals by sight if not by name. Many of them were elderly Italian men from the neighborhood and their eyes lit up when they saw our baby.

“Whatsa ees name?” they asked and of course our Mark became “L’il Marco” to them and they insisted that we leave him with them. “Go…Go”, they said, “…you eat, we play!”

So that’s what we did. We felt very secure leaving Mark with these men since we’d often seen them lovingly care for other children ... and, even sitting a room away we could hear them “oohing” and “ahhing” over “L’il Marco” as they passed him gently around the bar.

When it was time to leave I remember that he started to cry. I was surprised and then I realized that in a very short time our "L'il Marco" had come to love those rough old men and he hated to leave. I felt the same way.

UNC School of Dentistry ……… GOES WILD !!

2011-03-14T14:38:00.000-07:00

About 6 months ago I finally qualified to be a patient at the University of North Carolina School of Dentistry. This means that I get my own student (2nd year) who will oversee my treatment. As you can tell by the picture the setting is very professional and serene. Each student has a cubicle and the Staff Dentist is ever present to teach and grade the students. It is a tedious process but the cost is about 1/3 of what it would cost for me to go to my regular dentist and, with no insurance, it is well worth the effort.

On March 11th I drove up to Chapel Hill for my 2 0’clock appointment and arrived about ½ hour early. The waiting room was full and the TV was tuned to the UNC-Miami basketball game. UNC was 19 points behind Miami and the mood of the watchers was glum, to say the least.

It was at this point that “my dentist”, student Rob, came and got me. We settled down in his cubicle and he proceeded to get me ready for the procedure. Classical music was playing and, although you could hear the murmur of the other students and their patients, it was all very low key and professional.

Then, minutes later, the calm was shattered. A fever-pitched roar broke loose in the room and, for a minute, I thought we were under siege from some unknown terror. “WHAT was that?” I said to Rob and, with a grin that nearly split his face, he said, “I think we won !”

Sure enough, in the ACC battle No 6 UNC had stormed back to beat Miami by one point at the buzzer, and …

…though the atmosphere in the room quickly reverted to it’s original calm the grins remained and I was reminded that these future dentists were, after all, still UNC students and it was fun to be part of their joy and triumph.

POPSY lights it up at BASIN STREET EAST, 1959

2011-03-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

They called him Popsy because it was near impossible to spell, remember or pronounce his long Greek name. He had been the long term band boy for Benny Goodman, the “King of Swing”.

In the early fifties the “Big Band Era” had come to an end and Benny broke up the band but he didn’t leave Popsy high and dry. He set him up in his own photography business in New York City.

Popsy would be the first to tell you that he was no artist when it came to taking pictures but he had the basics and his studio was conveniently located near the theater district. The actors and actresses flocked to his studio because of his proximity to famous musicians and because they could get promotion pictures for their portfolios quickly and at a low price.

My husband, Dick, was working as a “Life” photographer in 1956 and he and Popsy became fast friends. When Dick started to free lance he would use the studio and darkroom when needed and, as payment, he taught Popsy some of the finer points of photography.

When Dick and I married in 1958 he had left “Life” and was free lancing full time. We would often meet Popsy in his studio and enjoyed many a take-out meal with him.

Early in 1959 we received a call from Popsy. He was very agitated and asked us to hurry over. It seemed that Benny Goodman was on his way to New York with his 10-piece ensemble that had been touring Europe. He was booked at “Basin Street East” for a three night gig and was offering Popsy the chance to take all the publicity shots.

Popsy was fit to be tied. He didn’t want to let Benny down but he had no idea how to handle the lighting for candid shots of this sort. I knew why he had called Dick, because this was his expertise.

The two of them formulated a plan and on opening night we arrived early and Dick set up his big strobe lights. We were seated at a large table in front of the stage and Popsy met us there.

When Benny came on stage with his ensemble the crowd went wild, the strobe lights came on and Dick and Popsy rushed around the room taking pictures from all angles. When the night was over we couldn’t wait to get back to the studio and process the film.

The pictures were wonderful, Benny was very happy with the results, Popsy was vindicated … and me? … I was just thrilled to be part of it all … especially when Benny and his 10 musicians sat at our table between sets !

My bedroom continued …

2011-03-05T15:35:00.000-08:00

I’m sure that my love for painted furniture started years ago with this bureau. My mother designed and painted it back in the 1930’s or ‘40’s. I’m not sure of the exact date but I remember it always being in our house and I was born in 1933. It has been in my bedroom for years now and I treasure it.

A few years ago I was up visiting my daughter and her husband and I spied a sweet little child’s play bureau for sale in their antique shop. It was very similar to my “for real” one but just measured 12 inches in width and about a foot and a half high. It had three small drawers and the idea came to me that it would make a perfect spot for my jewelry.

When I arrived home with it I couldn’t wait to start my project and here it is finished …

It will take years for it to acquire the antiquity of my Mother’s bureau; but, it’s a fun addition to my bedroom, it serves a useful purpose and it is a daily reminder that my fascination and love for painted furniture started long before I was able to hold a paintbrush.

A mural for my bedroom…

2011-03-02T12:57:00.001-08:00

I have a small house … just 5 rooms and a big central hall. The rooms are large, however, with the exception of the smaller back room that was my office until a few weeks ago.

It was then that I decided to switch rooms and turn that office area in to my bedroom and I’m thrilled with my decision. It is cozy and warm and all it really needed was a bit of color to bring it alive. Not having a picture to fill the bill I decided to paint another mural.

Some of you may recall that I have a little business called “Snowflakes” (custom painted furniture) and, in the past I would also paint murals. I don’t do that commercially anymore since it is very hard on my back. BUT…I couldn’t resist one more challenge in my own house.

So now I can wake to a bright and cheerful “stained glass” window and, although I miss my Italian scene from my old bedroom I can go there whenever I want because that is my new office space !

CHICKLETS BIG DAY OUT !!

2011-02-26T16:31:00.000-08:00

“We’ve got plenty of room in our regular coop but it’s only fair that we get a day out once in awhile … we like to get a change of scene too, you know.

We’ve heard there’s a force in numbers, so here we are, bunching together to let them know we want to go along this time…AND IT WORKED ! They’re getting the traveling case ready for us. Whoopee.

We knew that on a beautiful day like this they’d take pity on us. After all, if the dogs get to go why shouldn’t we?

And here we are … not quite “free” but at least we’re in a different place and there’s a bit of green grass coming up for us to chew on. Ahhhh…life is good.

I guess they’ll be expecting some eggs in return; but, it’s a small price to pay for our big day out.

Now .. If we could just get Ginnie to stop calling us “Chicklets” we’d be really happy ladies !”

My Peanut Necklace … 1939 World’s Fair

2011-02-23T15:00:00.000-08:00

Every time I hear the resonant tones of “Finlandia” by Sibelius I am transported back to the 1939 World’s Fair in Flushing Meadows, NY. It was probably 1941 and I would have been 8 at the time. I don’t remember much but one memory is clear as a bell.

I recall standing in a long line in front of the Planter’s Peanut exhibition. They were giving away necklaces with a little “gold” peanut attached and I made the entire family (4 sisters and my parents) wait while I stood on line. I was determined to get one and I’m so glad that I did.

Here is a picture of the necklace and you can see that it is not a cheap little item like what you would find in a Cracker Jacks Box. It is gold-toned and very sturdy. I have never seen another one like it and wonder if this was the original Planter’s trademark before the little peanut guy of today with the cane and top hat.

Back in 2006 I wrote to Planter’s and they could not give me any information, nor had they seen anything like it. I came away with the feeling that they didn’t believe me but I can assure you that I was there and my necklace is proof of that.

My only other memory of that magical day was watching the famous musical fountains display. Each night, as the sun went down, the crowds would gather at the pool. The haunting strains of “Finlandia” would fill the air as enormous jets of rainbow colored water sprayed higher and higher into the sky.

Then the finale …a barrage of fireworks exploding into the darkening sky. A sight that was almost too spectacular for this little girl to absorb… but one that I remember still.

?? SIGNS OF SPRING

2011-02-19T16:30:00.000-08:00

Today a blogger friend asked if I’d seen any signs of Spring yet. He only lives 4 hours South-east of me so you would think we’d be on the same weather schedule but that’s often not the case. He is on the ocean and that makes a huge difference.

Anyway, I can report that it’s still a bit early in my neck of the woods to have any overt signs of spring, except, of course, for the robins. However, yesterday and today the temperature rose to over 70 degrees and they were the nicest days we’ve had for a long time.

My daughter and her husband, on the other hand, (who are staying with me until April), can report a far different story for their home in New York. Recently his brother made a ride-by to check out their house and he took the following picture. It’s a bit blurry but you can see the snow and the doe ogling the photographer. What is not clear is that the snow was actually over two feet deep and encrusted with a thick layer of ice. The deer’s weight is spread across the entire body so she didn’t sink down to her knees like his brother did !

Our United States has had a topsy-turvy weather year and none of us have been safe from Mother Nature’s wrath; but, here in North Carolina we’ve been very lucky on the whole and I’m truly grateful for that.

Thanks for asking, Syd.

A perfect blend … My BIRTHDAY GIFTS:

2011-02-17T15:20:00.000-08:00

As I grow in age I find that I need less and less. That is why it’s so hard for me to let my children know what I want for gifts. At Christmas and on my birthday they always ask and I never have a good answer.

The easiest thing, of course, is a gift card and I really love those … especially the ones for Panera Bread. I like their salads and soups and the Asiago breakfast bagel with egg, cheese and bacon is a favorite of mine, as are the little quiche‘s.

Soooo…I received the standard question this year as my date of birth approached and I (as always) asked for the gift card. My son groaned but he and his daughter honored my request … so I am set for some good eating for quite a while to come, thanks to them !

My daughter and her husband, on the other hand, refused to go along with that and I was shocked and thrilled to get something that I can really use but would NEVER have asked for. It’s a Black and Decker Leaf Hog blower and vacuum !

My little house is surrounded by trees and, no matter what the season, I am inundated with leaves and no amount of raking seems to make a dent in it. Not to mention that the raking kills my back !

I’ve already put it to the test and I find it easy to handle and very efficient. I will finally be able to stay ahead of the leaf deluge and what a difference it will make in keeping a neat and tidy yard. I’m sure my neighbors will approve.

Now I can blow or vacuum to my heart’s content and then reward myself with breakfast or lunch at Panera’s. A perfect blending of gifts from my almost-perfect kids !!

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??

2011-02-13T15:17:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time a little old lady in her 80’s decided that life in a nursing home was way too tame for her. She decided that streaking was the way to spark up the place and that’s exactly what she did. She stripped down to her “bare facts” and took off. Two old geezers watched in astonishment as she approached and passed them in the nude. “What in the world was that?” one of them said. “I don’t know”, replied his friend, “but it sure needed ironing !”

Isn’t that silly? But, it makes an excellent point. As we grow older we DO start to wrinkle and it‘s a total body take-over. Not a happy thought but one that I faced recently. I was looking at my hands and I saw the enlarged knuckles, the prominent veins and the sprinkle of brown spots and I found myself wondering, “when did this happen?”

It made me think of my Mother’s arthritically crippled hands and how I would watch as she massaged them under hot water to relieve the pain. Her knuckles were very swollen and she couldn’t have removed her wedding ring if she’d wanted to. I suddenly felt lucky that my hands are merely wrinkled and unattractive ... but not painful. It seemed to give me a proper sense of perspective and I could actually laugh at myself.

Of course the years have taken a toll and every wrinkle and spot attests to that; but what a wonderful journey it has been, and that‘s something I had forgotten until I took up blogging almost 5 years ago.

There’s something magical about blogging and I think it’s the support and affirmation that is freely given by strangers from all over the world. So many of you have relived the events of my past 78 years with me and your comments have made me see my life in a different light.

Truth be told I had completely forgotten about my early years and it wasn’t until I dug deep and recreated those events on my blog that I realized how exciting they actually had been.

And now I am in the quiet phase of my life and I realize how lucky I am. I have had ups and downs in my long life but I have basically been blessed. I have a loving family and a multitude of friends … which includes all of you who read these words, whether you comment or not.

Once again I take a look at my hands and I smile to think of how many years it has taken to sculpt them as they are. These are my hands. I have earned them fair and square and I marvel that every wrinkle and swollen knuckle is the culmination of those years that I had almost forgotten !

Mystical dates … 1/1/11 … 1/11/11 … 11/1/11 … 11/11/11

2011-02-10T10:54:00.000-08:00

I’ve always had a fascination with dates and interesting time combinations. If you keep an eye on your digital clock you come up with all sorts of them. For example twelve thirty four will give you the sequence 1234. Or, how about this ? … if you add twelve minutes to the numbers 1:11, 2:22, 3:33 or 4:44 you will get these runs … 1:23, 2:34, 3:45 and 4:56.

And, of course, there’s always the eleven minutes after eleven time slot that gives a digital reading of 1111. It also leads me into the main gist of this blog entry.

I recently received an email message that read:

“This year we will experience 4 unusual dates.... 1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11, 11/11/11 ......... NOW go figure this out.... take the last 2 digits of the year you were born plus the age you will be this year and it WILL EQUAL .... 111.”

Being a born skeptic I had to try it out. I was born in 1933 and will be 78 this February. So 33 and 78 do, indeed, add up to 111.
Then I applied it to all my children’s birth dates and, lo and behold, it equaled 111 every time.

Magic??? Of course not and there’s a fairly easy mathematical equation that explains how this works. But where’s the fun in that? I’d much prefer to chock it up to some sort of psychic phenomenon ! (Eerie music playing in the background as I write this…)

Numerology is the study of occult meanings of numbers and their supposed influence on human life. Those that study it believe that events linked to the time 11:11 appear more often than can be explained by chance or coincidence… and New Age philosophies believe that the repetition of the number one signals a spirit presence and that mystical powers are associated with it… (Eerie music continues …)

I can’t go quite that far but I can go with the idea that 11:11 is a reminder that life’s patterns do repeat themselves. Or, on the other hand, I could just accept the fact that it’s eleven minutes after eleven, and be done with it !

A tribute to Dick … 04/03/30 to 09/22/90

2011-02-06T04:57:00.000-08:00

This is my favorite picture of my husband, taken in 1971. I have others that are more in focus and technically superior...but they don’t capture Dick’s spirit as this does.

My childhood was practically idyllic compared to Dick’s. His reads like a Dickensian novel. His 34 year old Dad died of a brain aneurysm when he was a young boy. His mother came from Ireland on a “potato boat" in the early 20th century and it wasn’t until years later, after both she and Dick had died, that we found out that she was actually a serving girl in a fancy home in Nyack, NY and that Dick’s father was the youngest son of that family.

It seemed to be a happy marriage until the death of his dad. At that point the family turned their back on Dick’s mother. A very wealthy woman in town took pity on Dick and his older brother and she paid to have them go to private schools. This left his mother on her own and she went to NY City, where she worked for many years as a clerk in one of the large department stores.

Dick did not have the temperament for private schools and was constantly getting into trouble. He was actually thrown out of Exeter and returned to NY City where he attended Stuyvesant High while living with his mom. This proved to be a good move for him since it was one of the most innovative schools in the nation at that time and he graduated with honors.

He had some college (NYU) but decided to jump into the fray and in 1954 he became an intern at “Life” magazine. He worked and traveled with such greats as Eugene Smith, Eliot Elisofon, Alfred Eisenstadt and Margaret Bourke-White. This is the portrait that he took of her and she actually wrote to thank him, declaring it was her all-time favorite.

In 1958 (when we met) Dick had decided to leave “Life” and to try his luck as a free lancer. He had a special knack for photography and did well for the first few years that we were married but it was not to last. It was a sad day when he had to give it up due to poor health, (type 1 diabetes). He needed a more stable life style and we moved to the country where he opened a Real Estate office.

There had been many changes in his young life and there would be many more to come...but his indomitable spirit always triumphed. He wasn’t easy to live with. He had no tolerance for compromise and he expected us all to be as hard on ourselves as he was on himself, but his love for our little family was total and he dedicated his life to us, until his death in 1990 at the young age of 60.

TINY TIM Tiptoes thru our small town BIG TOP

2011-02-02T14:46:00.000-08:00

If you think that Tiny Tim the musician,(??), with his ukulele and his falsetto voice singing “Tiptoe Through the Tulips“, is a bit bizarre then I’m here to tell you; “you ain’t heard nothin’ yet”.

In 1985 my little town of Vass, NC, with barely 700 residents, played host to a small time circus to raise money for a local charity. People from near & far came for the one-night performance and Tiny Tim was the main attraction. He sang and joked around and the people seemed to love it. I couldn’t stay, however, because I had to be up very early the next day to get to my job in the ER of our local hospital.

Imagine my surprise upon arriving there the next morning to see a familiar looking figure dressed in a long, dark overcoat, at the front desk .It was Tiny Tim. He had a small paper bag with him and was pleading to have the ER Dr. see him “in private”.

He refused to be registered so we called the Supervisor. She finally determined that he was carrying a urine sample that he swore he had obtained from a girl in Vass (!) She, according to Tiny Tim, was accusing him of getting her pregnant and he wanted the Dr. to prove her wrong. Remember, this was back in 1985, long before you could get a pregnancy test kit from a drugstore.

This whole scene was getting more and more bizarre. Both the Dr. and the nursing supervisor tried to tell him that it was way too early to determine anything but Tiny Tim just became more agitated and obnoxious. He started yelling about “my rights as a citizen” and “people taking advantage of me because I’m a star”, and it was at this point that the news photographers arrived.

In retrospect we could clearly see that we’d been conned. He managed to get a front page spread in the local newspaper, as well as mentions in the Raleigh and Fayetteville ones too. The un-named girl from Vass “conveniently” disappeared and Tiny Tim, with a big “gotcha” smile on his face, tiptoed quietly out of our lives.

POOR BABY …

2011-01-29T06:20:00.000-08:00

It’s just SOOOO sad. An emergency run to the hospital for a “hiatal hernia problem” and then Rehab…surprise, surprise. I’m actually a bit astounded that his medical problem isn’t lodged a little closer to his anal canal … being the “A--hole” that he is !

His TV show “Two and a Half Men” has been a No. 1 hit for over two years and I find that incredibly sad. He denigrates women, he overindulges in everything and there is a constant undertone of off-color humor that we, the public, seem to lap up and make our own. Whatever happened to tenderness, understanding and just plain love and awe of life?

In case you’re wondering why I am so disgusted with Charlie Sheen it may have to do with the fact that I watch homes being destroyed every day by alcohol and drugs. His TV show stops just short of telling it like it really is and I’m sure it wouldn’t be a hit if it did. We find it so funny when he complains of a hangover or is found in the wrong place after a nighttime of “frivolity”.
How would we feel if we saw the real facts … a beaten wife, the children petrified to speak, the house a wreck and our beloved
“star” engrossed in porn?

The producers of “Two and a Half Men” have put the show on Hiatus and state: “We are profoundly concerned for his health and well-being, and support his decision”. That sounds an awful lot like enabling to me. I guess if you make enough money all else goes by the board.

(I have to admit that my emotions are very close to the surface and with good reason. Last Saturday I attended the funeral service of a dear friend who died of liver and kidney failure. He had tried AA in 1992 but didn’t last. When he died he had four years of sobriety. He was only 52!)

SAY WHAT ??

2011-01-25T14:51:00.000-08:00

Here’s a little mental exercise to get the juices flowing. Six well known quotations or phrases have been reworded here. The meaning remains the same, however. Can you identify them?

1. A period of preeminence is passed through by all canines.

2. Prodigality is manufactured by precipitancy.

3. The sum total is sufficient, as is the termination date.

4. Tenants of vitreous abodes ought not to chuck lithoidal
fragments.

5. Every article which coruscates in not compounded from
aureate material.

6. Domestic fowl ought not be enumerated before nascence.

A perfect score of six correct answers will get you nothing but the satisfaction of a job well done !

1. “Every dog has his day”

2. “Haste makes waste”

3. “All’s well that end’s well”

4. “People who live in glass houses should not throw stones”

5. “All that glitters in not gold”

6. “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

ALL’s WELL that ……

2011-01-22T08:07:00.000-08:00

END’s WELL …

Can you believe that I could do so much damage to my car in a 35 MPH zone? An old truck just stopped dead in front of me and I had no recourse but to hit it. It was three days before Christmas so you can imagine how thrilled I was with the whole scenario.

Of course I was the one who was ticketed since I was in the rear, and to add insult to injury I was not carrying Collision Insurance!! (Maybe not the smartest decision I’ve ever made but I’d gotten away with it for years so I guess I was ahead of the game.)

Anyway, the estimates to fix my car were about a thousand dollars more that I’d paid for it 8 months before so I called a salvage company and they bought it for $1,075 and hauled it away.

Now came the hard part…the search for an affordable car ! It seemed that every time we found something of interest it would be gone before we could get to it. There are many cars in the $6,000 and below range but one of my joys in life is driving and I just couldn’t get excited about anything I saw at that price.

I won’t bore you with the details but it was three weeks to the day before I found, and fell in love with, this 2001 Acura CL Coupe. It’s a year older than my other car and has 108,000 miles on it but those are small details in the overall picture. The wait is over and, “watch out world… I’m back on the road !!”

I refuse to be a CAPRICORN ! **

2011-01-18T12:06:00.000-08:00

Look at this stodgy old goat. He represents the Zodiac sign of Capricorn. He’s conservative and cautious and dedicated to his work and preserving balance in his daily life and in the lives of those around him. All fine traits you might suggest and you’d be right; but, to me he is also boring and unimaginative.

Now look at “my sign”, the playful and artistic AQUARIAN …

She is the Zodiac’s most mysterious person. A free spirit who
not only marches to a different drummer, but often makes up new music as she goes along. She is intellectually explorative, highly original and often blazes new trails. She is, in short, a delight and I’ve loved calling her mine !

Well, according to the astronomers from the Minnesota Planetarium Society that’s all about to change. They’ve declared the snake-bearing OPHIUCHUS to be a new sign of the Zodiac and he’s slithered in to upset the apple cart for all of us. The months will now be divided by 13 instead of 12 and that puts my
birth-date of Feb. 15th under the sign of CAPRICORN.

Well, I’ll have none of it … I’ve spent the last 77 years as a proud Aquarian and it’s too late to change now. I simply refuse!

You realize, of course, that this is written “tongue in cheek” but, that being said, it does take the fun out of reading my daily horoscope. What say you? Does it bother you to be relegated to a new sign or do you like it??

**********************************************************************************
** disclaimer … if you happen to be a CAPRICORN please forgive my (admittedly) biased opinion. I’m sure you possess many virtues that this blogger would be wise to adopt !

The Iceman Cometh …

2011-01-15T10:16:00.000-08:00

Many of you in "bloggerville" are expert photographers so you will probably laugh at my attempt here, but that being said…

I saw this delightful scene through my window three days ago and loved it. This is very unusual weather for our part of North Carolina and I wanted to share it with you. I tried to take the picture through the window and, of course, that was a disaster so I went outside and the result is the picture seen here.

The sun on the trees lit the ice that coated them and it felt like I had stumbled into a crystallized fairyland. It also made it very difficult to get a good shot since the picture I wanted faced directly into the sun. I was determined to get it however, since icicle trees and freezing temps are definitely not the norm around here and I wanted the charm of it documented.

I have tried very hard over the years to train myself to live in the moment so this was a perfect opportunity to practice that. I have to admit, however, that I was torn between enjoying the beauty of what Mother Nature had bestowed upon us and being annoyed because it was keeping me grounded.

The fact that it was all beyond my control finally dawned on me so I settled back and watched the ice melt away in it's own good time ... satisfied in knowing that the memory would stay with me forever.

A VISIT TO “CROSS CREEK” … FLORIDA, 1995

2011-01-11T16:35:00.000-08:00

In 1995 I had the pleasure of visiting the Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’s home, “Cross Creek”, in Florida. Entering there was a shock and a delight. The shock came from finding myself in this idyllic setting just minutes from the frenetic bustle of Gainesville, and the delight was in knowing that I could soak up the experience much as she did when she lived and wrote there.

She bought the 70 acres of “Cross Creek” in 1928 with her husband, Charles. She loved the remoteness, the wildness and the simplicity of life that she found there. She had been a city girl but the minute she saw the property she felt it was “home”. Her marriage was not to last but she had found her “place of enchantment” and she lived there until her death in 1953.

This was actually a working farm and Marjorie had high hopes for her orange grove. This never came to fruition but her writing did. She started writing short stories in 1930 and in 1938 she struck gold with her book “The Yearling” which won a Pulitzer for Best Novel that year. In 1942 she, once again, won acclaim with the publication of her book, “Cross Creek”.

The approach to “Cross Creek” is down a winding country road that took us past an orange grove and outbuildings. It then led to a picturesque farmhouse, made up of three separate buildings inter-connected with porches. We saw a daybed on the verandah where she would often sleep when she was working on a novel. It was just paces away from her open typewriter and I could readily envision her sitting there.

Her household is a jumble of contradictions, much like Marjorie herself, from the vintage cooking gear to the elaborate, antique Hitchcock dining room set. She loved to cook and the kitchen shelves are still lined with jams and jellies she made from her own fruit trees. The story goes that she enjoyed a nip or two also and it was interesting to note the empty wine bottles still randomly thrown into the closet !

The spirit of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings is very much alive in this place of enchantment and, as we left the house, I had the strange feeling that life has come to a standstill. I could almost catch the sweet, pungent smell of oranges and herbs and it wasn’t difficult to understand how this place could nourish the soul of a gifted writer.

PICKLED and BRINED to last forever !

2011-01-08T10:12:00.000-08:00

I guess you could call it “gallows humor” but my friend Karen and I got a big kick out of this sign we saw a few nights ago. It is a self-storage business that looks like all the others until you see it lit up at night ... then the AA jumps out at you ... or at least it does if you are an alcoholic and follow the AA program.

We had great fun imagining how this business could be used to our advantage. Self storage facilities lease space to individuals who store all sorts of items in them. What about old Uncle Joe who never seems to be able to stay sober? We could keep him off the street and out of his car if we stored him in one of these handy lockers along with his usual quart a day. He’d never know the difference and we’d be doing the town a favor.

We could also store our sordid past in an AA self-storage unit and label it “open when needed”. In AA we adhere to the notion that “we neither dwell on our past nor wish to forget it” but we want it to be available when needed. Often times it is the sharing of how we were then and how we are now that helps the newcomer relate and feel like they‘ve “come home“.

And, lastly, I think of the units that are accessed by opening a roll-up metal door, usually about the same size as a one-car garage. What a perfect spot to store that dented old car that reminds us of “the wreckage of our past”. We can visit it on occasion and be glad that those days are gone forever … that is, they will be if we just stay on the golden path known as SOBRIETY.

NORTH CAROLINA, believe it or not…

2011-01-03T22:47:00.000-08:00

December 26, 2010

December 31, 201

Isn’t this incredible? Just 5 days and the thermometer, in my little town in North Carolina went from 29 degrees on the 26th (with lots of snow) to 65 degrees on the 31st
I guess the pictures tell the whole story. That’s the front of my house and I have to admit that I much prefer it without the snow. I know you readers from “up North” will consider me a wimp but I’ve had my share of winter weather to last a lifetime.

So, now it’s 2011 and I wonder what Mother Nature has in store for this year. Let’s hope it’s less dramatic in scope but still worth blogging about !

The IVY takes off …

2010-12-30T14:35:00.000-08:00

About three years ago I took this picture to send to my daughter to demonstrate the new colors that I had chosen for my living room. It also shows the large ivy plant that I hoped would continue to grow without much direct light.

I was told that a once-a-week watering was all that was required and I‘ve pretty much stuck to that. However, there were a few times over the years when I wasn’t home to take care of the plant and I thought it would surely be dead by the time I got back.

Luckily for me this never happened. That ivy plant has proved to be a sturdy survivor as I can attest to by this recent photo.

I sometimes wonder who the ultimate survivor will be …me or the ivy !!