Pete and Tom planned to leave on Monday but I insisted they wait until after lunch so I could take them to the Watersview Restaurant on Lake Gaston. The food is exceptionally good and waterfront dining is always special. I wanted P & T to carry away this mental picture of their last moment in NC, for this visit anyway.
Alas! Some things are not to be. We entered the open, welcoming front door to find workmen roaming around the place. Renovations are being made and the restaurant won’t be open again until March 2.
The gracious owner reminded us that the Lakeside is not open on Mondays but Pino’s in nearby Gasburg VA is. My disappointment led to a new experience.
The interior of Pino’s is much larger than it appears from the outside with a small “no smoking” room off to the left. Even though it wasn’t crowded we chose the small room. Al was hooked up to his mobile oxygen tank looking like he carries a six-gun with a long barrel in a modern-day holster. Our waitperson greeted us happily and with a distinctive accent.
The first words spoken, “where ya from?” revealing her Jersey City roots gave us an instant connection. (Al kept wanting to call her Penny Marshall) It continued to get better with our wine served. Our salad orders went like this: Jersey girl: “Oil & vinegar?” Pete: “What dressings do you have?” Jersey girl: “Oil & vinegar.” Tom: “Balsamic vinegar?” Jersey girl: “No.” Pete & Tom: “Oil & vinegar.”
We were all happy with our dinners. Eggplant Parm, (my measure of a good Italian restaurant,) Chicken Parm, Lasagna and a Combination Special for Pete were served with garlic bread, too. Our appetites were sated and their parting memory a good one.
On their next trip down, Pete & Tom promised to bring her some fresh mozzarella and NY bagels.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Pete & Tom
My dear friends, Pete & Tom left a snowy, bitter cold New Jersey behind to come down to sunny Macon NC for the weekend. This was a perfect ending to a very hectic-if-it-can-go-wrong-it will (and it did) week. A great reunion of eating, drinking and catching up on what’s happening in our lives filled Saturday to the brim.
On Sunday, roaming around the Art Museum of North Carolina, delighting in the varied styles of art, we came upon something different. Across the wide expanse I spotted a huge face of Mona Lisa, hanging upside down. Curious, we sauntered over to check it out at close range. Devorah Sperber created “After Mona Lisa 2” out of 5,000 (+ or – please don’t rely on my numbers) spools of brilliantly colored thread. Looking through the glass globe situated in front of the artwork, the creation looked upright. It’s worth the trip to Raleigh just to see this piece. Remarkable.
Also remarkable is the lunch we ravished while listening to the grand piano playing in the background at the Blue Ridge Restaurant in the lower level. My goat cheese & rosemary tart served with a divine salad was presented on a large, white plate shaped like an artist’s palette, complete with a hole for the thumb. Neat.
Tom did a lot of ummmms devouring his burger with Roquefort cheese ‘n fries and Pete didn’t talk at all until his special plate of mole chicken (?) salad embellished with spicy deviled eggs.
We were a happy, stuffed threesome when we left.
On Sunday, roaming around the Art Museum of North Carolina, delighting in the varied styles of art, we came upon something different. Across the wide expanse I spotted a huge face of Mona Lisa, hanging upside down. Curious, we sauntered over to check it out at close range. Devorah Sperber created “After Mona Lisa 2” out of 5,000 (+ or – please don’t rely on my numbers) spools of brilliantly colored thread. Looking through the glass globe situated in front of the artwork, the creation looked upright. It’s worth the trip to Raleigh just to see this piece. Remarkable.
Also remarkable is the lunch we ravished while listening to the grand piano playing in the background at the Blue Ridge Restaurant in the lower level. My goat cheese & rosemary tart served with a divine salad was presented on a large, white plate shaped like an artist’s palette, complete with a hole for the thumb. Neat.
Tom did a lot of ummmms devouring his burger with Roquefort cheese ‘n fries and Pete didn’t talk at all until his special plate of mole chicken (?) salad embellished with spicy deviled eggs.
We were a happy, stuffed threesome when we left.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Three Texas Women
Mimi Swartz wrote an item for the New York Times on February 3 of this year called “Lone Starlets” about three tall, in history, Texas women, Molly Ivins, Ann Richards and Nellie Connally. Since early February of this year all three have now passed over hopefully to an easier place for them to reside.
Reading Molly’s columns always gave me a “give ‘em hell” feeling toward our political leaders that came up with some asinine programs for us lesser folks to live by. She minced no words on her thoughts and feelings and had quite a readership following to prove that many people agreed with her.
Ann was another woman to fight back with straightforward but folksy words, whether it was her personal battle of smoking, drinking, divorcing or the penny-pinching politicos trying to keep the bluecollar workers from improving their lot with education.
Nellie had an entirely different battle station to wage her war. As the wife of John Connally and first lady of Texas, her place is assured in history. Moments before JFK was assassinated she assured him of the love Texas held for him.
I wonder where Maureen Dowd was born?
Reading Molly’s columns always gave me a “give ‘em hell” feeling toward our political leaders that came up with some asinine programs for us lesser folks to live by. She minced no words on her thoughts and feelings and had quite a readership following to prove that many people agreed with her.
Ann was another woman to fight back with straightforward but folksy words, whether it was her personal battle of smoking, drinking, divorcing or the penny-pinching politicos trying to keep the bluecollar workers from improving their lot with education.
Nellie had an entirely different battle station to wage her war. As the wife of John Connally and first lady of Texas, her place is assured in history. Moments before JFK was assassinated she assured him of the love Texas held for him.
I wonder where Maureen Dowd was born?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Tir Na NOg Restaurant
To celebrate the end of the week with the joy of now having DSL up and running, my two burned out surge protectors replaced with better ones (and understanding this electrical system here, thanks to wonderful, patient Halifax staff) and brother Al on the mend, we made the trip to Raleigh for shopping and lunch.
Since I’m not really a shopper, as soon as we arrived within breathing distance of Raleigh, I talked Al out of going into a busy mall. I picked up a few necessaries at Art’s Art-a-rama, the art supply store that can’t be considered a mall, and thanking the universe for the small things in life, we headed into the Market Place of Raleigh. It was lunchtime.
We cruised the area but found only two restaurants open for lunch on a Saturday. I opted for the Tir Na NOg on Blount Street, a favorite of mine. They have always delighted my out-of-state guests or me when I just dropped in to treat myself.
The menu is overflowing with tempting choices reminiscent of Ireland. It’s difficult to decide which to choose. Today was no exception. Al chose my favorite, Guinness Batter-dipped Atlantic Whitefish with fries, a fresh tartar sauce and a creamy, crunchy cole slaw. It wasn’t easy, but I opted for something different. Beef & Guinness Pie, topped with flaky, tender puff pastry, a slice of bread that brought my visit to Ireland-instantly-to-my-mind. Washing it down with Killian’s Red was another wise choice. We split a dessert of Fried Ice Cream.
The low stone walls on one side that separate the bar from the dining area, the authentic road signs and the murals all add to the charm expected from Irish hospitality. When you go be sure to look up in the foyer area.
If you can arrange it, go when the live music is featured. You can check on their schedules events and hours at: TNNIrishPub.com.
Since I’m not really a shopper, as soon as we arrived within breathing distance of Raleigh, I talked Al out of going into a busy mall. I picked up a few necessaries at Art’s Art-a-rama, the art supply store that can’t be considered a mall, and thanking the universe for the small things in life, we headed into the Market Place of Raleigh. It was lunchtime.
We cruised the area but found only two restaurants open for lunch on a Saturday. I opted for the Tir Na NOg on Blount Street, a favorite of mine. They have always delighted my out-of-state guests or me when I just dropped in to treat myself.
The menu is overflowing with tempting choices reminiscent of Ireland. It’s difficult to decide which to choose. Today was no exception. Al chose my favorite, Guinness Batter-dipped Atlantic Whitefish with fries, a fresh tartar sauce and a creamy, crunchy cole slaw. It wasn’t easy, but I opted for something different. Beef & Guinness Pie, topped with flaky, tender puff pastry, a slice of bread that brought my visit to Ireland-instantly-to-my-mind. Washing it down with Killian’s Red was another wise choice. We split a dessert of Fried Ice Cream.
The low stone walls on one side that separate the bar from the dining area, the authentic road signs and the murals all add to the charm expected from Irish hospitality. When you go be sure to look up in the foyer area.
If you can arrange it, go when the live music is featured. You can check on their schedules events and hours at: TNNIrishPub.com.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Classical Music
I’ve decided I want to learn about classical music. For the last couple of years, I’ve been slowly immersing myself into it. When I find a CD I like, I’ll listen and listen and listen to it until the musical sounds become familiar to me. Second nature. But I can’t identify one composer from another. That’s my present project. Learn one composer at a time.
This all rather evolved from reading about George Sand that included her long-term love affair with Chopin. Because I have read her writings, I wanted to know his music. It paints an entire picture that way. The person and their talent cannot be separated. To know one must be to know the other.
Franz Liszt was a friend to both Sand and Chopin. His father tried to warn him “Beware of women, stick to your music.” Alas he became the playboy of the day, night actually, flitting from one society belle to another. Whether they were married or not made no difference. Top society dame, excuse me, Countess Marie d’Agoult was a passionate affair that lasted a long time. They managed to have three children and a divorce, in disgrace, from her husband. Of course in time the passion between them turned to disgust.
Liszt begged Richard Wagner not to break up the marriage of Liszt’s daughter Cosima. Ah, in the heat of passion, who listens? Wagner was a prima dona to beat all prima donas. He refused to work for money demanding that his friends support him and his expensive habits. He managed to marry Cosima. She remained with him until his death. She never again spoke to her father until the day he also died. Fascinating
I think these were the rock stars of yesteryear. For years I thought classical music and all it entailed was boring. Boy was I a dummy.
This all rather evolved from reading about George Sand that included her long-term love affair with Chopin. Because I have read her writings, I wanted to know his music. It paints an entire picture that way. The person and their talent cannot be separated. To know one must be to know the other.
Franz Liszt was a friend to both Sand and Chopin. His father tried to warn him “Beware of women, stick to your music.” Alas he became the playboy of the day, night actually, flitting from one society belle to another. Whether they were married or not made no difference. Top society dame, excuse me, Countess Marie d’Agoult was a passionate affair that lasted a long time. They managed to have three children and a divorce, in disgrace, from her husband. Of course in time the passion between them turned to disgust.
Liszt begged Richard Wagner not to break up the marriage of Liszt’s daughter Cosima. Ah, in the heat of passion, who listens? Wagner was a prima dona to beat all prima donas. He refused to work for money demanding that his friends support him and his expensive habits. He managed to marry Cosima. She remained with him until his death. She never again spoke to her father until the day he also died. Fascinating
I think these were the rock stars of yesteryear. For years I thought classical music and all it entailed was boring. Boy was I a dummy.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Waiting for a Phone Call
One of the worst moments of time wasted is waiting for someone to call. It doesn’t make any difference whether the expected call will be with good news or bad news. It’s the waiting that is awful. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate on something else, or be productive while I’m waiting. That thought just keeps hanging in the back of my mind ‘don’t use the telephone in case the call is trying to come through.’ Of course, that’s the time when I need to use the phone. And I don’t make calls often, only when necessary. I chat with my friends in person or by email, rarely by telephone.
I can wait easily three hours or more to use the bathroom, but when I’m waiting for a phone call……..I gotta go, now. Five minutes later, I gotta go, again. What about a shower? The best way to have the telephone ring is to get into the shower, even better if I am shampooing, too. Another good way to get the telephone to ring is to sit down to a meal. A hot meal works best that way it can get cold while I’m answering the phone.
Even worse is when I’m waiting for that important call, the phone rings, I gulp the mouthful of food or wrap a towel around my soapy body, rush to answer it and it’s a local charity looking for a donation. Egads! No wonder I hate telephones!
I can wait easily three hours or more to use the bathroom, but when I’m waiting for a phone call……..I gotta go, now. Five minutes later, I gotta go, again. What about a shower? The best way to have the telephone ring is to get into the shower, even better if I am shampooing, too. Another good way to get the telephone to ring is to sit down to a meal. A hot meal works best that way it can get cold while I’m answering the phone.
Even worse is when I’m waiting for that important call, the phone rings, I gulp the mouthful of food or wrap a towel around my soapy body, rush to answer it and it’s a local charity looking for a donation. Egads! No wonder I hate telephones!
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Dentist
Does anyone else still have the dread of going to the dentist? I do. I’m fine once I get there. But just the thought that I have to go there, today, unnerves me. There is no fear since the modern tools of dentistry are so refined that pain is obsolete. Maybe it’s having someone’s hand in my mouth. I don’t even like someone putting words in my mouth, let alone their hand. That’s just about the time he’ll ask you a question. I always wonder if the question is sincere, since it’s impossible to answer it. By the time you can answer, he is onto something else.
Waiters do the same thing. They seem to wait until you have a mouthful of food then ask, “Is everything alright? Can I get you anything else?”
Maybe it’s the way a dentist makes me feel like a child, insinuating my gums and teeth aren’t perfect because I haven’t been brushing properly, or only brushing six times a day instead of ten times.
Anyway, the only way to get over it, is to go to it. Get it over with, then wonder why I fussed so much about it.
Waiters do the same thing. They seem to wait until you have a mouthful of food then ask, “Is everything alright? Can I get you anything else?”
Maybe it’s the way a dentist makes me feel like a child, insinuating my gums and teeth aren’t perfect because I haven’t been brushing properly, or only brushing six times a day instead of ten times.
Anyway, the only way to get over it, is to go to it. Get it over with, then wonder why I fussed so much about it.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Coco Chanel
Yesterday I finished reading the 337-page biography “Chanel, A Woman of Her Own” by Axel Madsen (which is a family name in another book I finished reading last night. How weird is that?) Usually I like a book to ‘settle’ on me after I finish reading it and before I write about it. This book bothers me.
Coco, her father’s affectionate name for her, spent her youth in an orphanage in France but never admitting it in her recollections. Her given name was Gabrielle. That was about all of her early years she would admit to, making up various stories to suit her fancy. Her one sister died young. The other as a young, unhappily married woman who Coco refused to send money to Canada to bring her back to France as she so desperately wanted. The two brothers received money from her, at her initiation, to stay in the background and not have it publicly known they were family. After World War II her nieces came to Paris to meet her, curious about this famous aunt of theirs, but she would not admit them to her home.
She married only her business “The House of Chanel” but consented her two great loves, the ones that truly touched her heart, were Boy Capel, killed in an auto accident and Bendor, the Duke of Westminster. Her numerous lovers included other royalty and the wealthy of the day.
She died a multi-millionaire, alone, without leaving a sou to any of her family. She left everything to her butler in a will. Mysteriously the will disappeared. The core of her fortune began and grew in France but she chose to be buried in Lausanne, Switzerland.
Her designs are still worn in good taste today.
Coco, her father’s affectionate name for her, spent her youth in an orphanage in France but never admitting it in her recollections. Her given name was Gabrielle. That was about all of her early years she would admit to, making up various stories to suit her fancy. Her one sister died young. The other as a young, unhappily married woman who Coco refused to send money to Canada to bring her back to France as she so desperately wanted. The two brothers received money from her, at her initiation, to stay in the background and not have it publicly known they were family. After World War II her nieces came to Paris to meet her, curious about this famous aunt of theirs, but she would not admit them to her home.
She married only her business “The House of Chanel” but consented her two great loves, the ones that truly touched her heart, were Boy Capel, killed in an auto accident and Bendor, the Duke of Westminster. Her numerous lovers included other royalty and the wealthy of the day.
She died a multi-millionaire, alone, without leaving a sou to any of her family. She left everything to her butler in a will. Mysteriously the will disappeared. The core of her fortune began and grew in France but she chose to be buried in Lausanne, Switzerland.
Her designs are still worn in good taste today.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Painting with Gal-Pals
Having friends of one’s own sex is important. Guys may bond in different ways but a lot of women gather for coffee conversations, quilting, book groups, and/or lunches. I find myself delightfully rich in the fact that I have gal-pals to paint with.
We’re not doing walls and ceilings (though who knows what the future may bring) we’re doing canvasses. And while we lay our paints out to create something beautiful to see, we solve the problems of the world. Wonderful expressions are released, verbally and visually. If only the world would listen, or a neighbor or an associate, or ……………. What a lovely place it would be. No antagonisms, no violence, no attacking others in trying to make ourselves look good.
Can you possibly view a Monet and feel anger? Maybe CEO Boardrooms should install easels.
We’re not doing walls and ceilings (though who knows what the future may bring) we’re doing canvasses. And while we lay our paints out to create something beautiful to see, we solve the problems of the world. Wonderful expressions are released, verbally and visually. If only the world would listen, or a neighbor or an associate, or ……………. What a lovely place it would be. No antagonisms, no violence, no attacking others in trying to make ourselves look good.
Can you possibly view a Monet and feel anger? Maybe CEO Boardrooms should install easels.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
August Albo
In thinking about the Strauss Waltz painting, I had to find the artist, which as I noted was August Albo. It surprised me how easily I found that information by just describing the painting. Then I had to go further and find out who this guy is, or was. Now that was a bit more difficult.
He was Estonian, lived from 1880s to 1960s, (unofficial) studied in the Russian Royal Academy, a recognized artist in Moscow, Switzerland, Spain and St. Petersburg with exhibitions in Paris and Berlin. He wound up in New York City. Never did he learn any English but people who commissioned him for portraits, etc. brought their own interpreters. All the background on Albo I found was from internet sites on forums, etc. I didn’t find his name listed on any formal lists of artists. He also painted under other names including Rod Palmer.
What surprised me further was that he did another well-known painting “Free as the Wind” that portrays a herd of wild stallions running before a brewing storm. Their tails and manes are flowing in the wind. Looking into the painting I could feel the wind on my face and the feeling of their freedom, galloping over the plain.
That painting hung in my living room at the same time the Waltz was in my dining room. I never realized the two paintings were by the same artist. Only that both appealed to me in a strong sense.
He was Estonian, lived from 1880s to 1960s, (unofficial) studied in the Russian Royal Academy, a recognized artist in Moscow, Switzerland, Spain and St. Petersburg with exhibitions in Paris and Berlin. He wound up in New York City. Never did he learn any English but people who commissioned him for portraits, etc. brought their own interpreters. All the background on Albo I found was from internet sites on forums, etc. I didn’t find his name listed on any formal lists of artists. He also painted under other names including Rod Palmer.
What surprised me further was that he did another well-known painting “Free as the Wind” that portrays a herd of wild stallions running before a brewing storm. Their tails and manes are flowing in the wind. Looking into the painting I could feel the wind on my face and the feeling of their freedom, galloping over the plain.
That painting hung in my living room at the same time the Waltz was in my dining room. I never realized the two paintings were by the same artist. Only that both appealed to me in a strong sense.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Strauss Waltz Painting
It just wasn’t a night for sleeping. After lying in bed with “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme” running through my head, the “Strauss Waltz” painting by August Albo popped into my head and the Strauss Waltz music replaced Simon & Garfunkle. I guess someone in the great beyond wanted me to remember him. I felt like getting out of bed and dancing around the room. Instead, I slipped out of bed, (not to disturb the girls curled up on either side of my legs,) plucked two chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen cake dish and turned the computer on.
“P S R & T” connected me to the days of when it was played on the radio everyday. That connected me to my dining room where my five-foot long, beautiful walnut classic Italian cabinet held the stereo and radio. Above it the “Strauss Waltz” print set the pace for the many dinner parties I gave in that room.
Remembering that painting makes my heart dance. Gaiety, the beauty of the crystal chandeliers reflecting in the huge mirrors, the pastel ball gowns of the women and formal tails of the men in the romantic period of the late 1800s, send their joy out to anyone who will peer into it. Just look at the painting, see the dancers floating; their images shining on the marble floor. You need little imagination to hear the resultant sounds of Johann Strauss Jr. conducting his orchestra. A lovely sound to carry me to sleep, perhaps to dream pleasant dreams of days long gone.
“P S R & T” connected me to the days of when it was played on the radio everyday. That connected me to my dining room where my five-foot long, beautiful walnut classic Italian cabinet held the stereo and radio. Above it the “Strauss Waltz” print set the pace for the many dinner parties I gave in that room.
Remembering that painting makes my heart dance. Gaiety, the beauty of the crystal chandeliers reflecting in the huge mirrors, the pastel ball gowns of the women and formal tails of the men in the romantic period of the late 1800s, send their joy out to anyone who will peer into it. Just look at the painting, see the dancers floating; their images shining on the marble floor. You need little imagination to hear the resultant sounds of Johann Strauss Jr. conducting his orchestra. A lovely sound to carry me to sleep, perhaps to dream pleasant dreams of days long gone.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Songs & Memories
A song keeps going through my head as I try to go to sleep, normally an easy thing to do. But tonight for some reason “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” is running through my mind. I have no clue where it came from, I didn’t hear it at all today and I don’t remember seeing anything that would make me think of it. I can’t remember the last time I did hear it.
With the song, memories come of another time and other people that I haven’t seen in many years. Some I will never see again, it’s been that long ago that the song was popular and on everyone’s lips. But songs have a way, almost like photographs, that kick up a memory like an old movie running in the background. Haunting.
For those of an age, what was going on in your life, when Simon & Garfunkle were still partners, creating those wonderful songs, memories that just never leave you. Do you also remember the thoughtful and interesting cover art on the LP jackets? I can see it now, in subdued colors, a leather jacket, faces expressing their feelings. Songs and memories.
With the song, memories come of another time and other people that I haven’t seen in many years. Some I will never see again, it’s been that long ago that the song was popular and on everyone’s lips. But songs have a way, almost like photographs, that kick up a memory like an old movie running in the background. Haunting.
For those of an age, what was going on in your life, when Simon & Garfunkle were still partners, creating those wonderful songs, memories that just never leave you. Do you also remember the thoughtful and interesting cover art on the LP jackets? I can see it now, in subdued colors, a leather jacket, faces expressing their feelings. Songs and memories.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Raleigh First Friday
Last night Peggy and I met Lynn and Steve in Raleigh and went to the First Friday Art Space artist’s reception. Marvelous! Peggy introduced us to Warren County born-and-bred Dianne Rodwell. Her art space is full of results of her multi-talents in the art field.
I have been to the “Monet in Normandy” showing at the NC Art Museum. Dianne has been to Monet’s home and gardens in Giverny where he painted these wonderful works of art and on to Provence to Van Gogh’s home. While I didn’t have a stash of cash to spend on art works, I did invest in a couple of her post cards. I know just who is going to receive them.
I was impressed with the appearance of this City Market area at night. Balls of tiny white lights the size of soccer balls hung from the trees, molded designs in tiny white lights filled walkways so even if I were alone, I wouldn’t be afraid to walk through them. They also had some delightful ‘window murals,’ that is murals painted to look like windows.
We eventually made our way to the Tir Na Nog for a hearty dinner reminiscent of Ireland, live Irish music and even an Irish dancer or two. That’s a great restaurant if you’re Irish at heart or lineage. All the restaurants seemed to sport live music of one kind or another. An ample number of people came out for this spring-like night on Raleigh’s First Friday. I highly recommend it.
I have been to the “Monet in Normandy” showing at the NC Art Museum. Dianne has been to Monet’s home and gardens in Giverny where he painted these wonderful works of art and on to Provence to Van Gogh’s home. While I didn’t have a stash of cash to spend on art works, I did invest in a couple of her post cards. I know just who is going to receive them.
I was impressed with the appearance of this City Market area at night. Balls of tiny white lights the size of soccer balls hung from the trees, molded designs in tiny white lights filled walkways so even if I were alone, I wouldn’t be afraid to walk through them. They also had some delightful ‘window murals,’ that is murals painted to look like windows.
We eventually made our way to the Tir Na Nog for a hearty dinner reminiscent of Ireland, live Irish music and even an Irish dancer or two. That’s a great restaurant if you’re Irish at heart or lineage. All the restaurants seemed to sport live music of one kind or another. An ample number of people came out for this spring-like night on Raleigh’s First Friday. I highly recommend it.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
The Girls
The term “The Girls” as I refer to them, came easily after birthing four sons, having two brothers, raised in a neighborhood full of boys and marrying three guys. One at a time, that is, with a little leeway in between.
So when these two adorable rescued kittens were first placed in front of me like gift boxes to choose from, I took both. Sisters, even with different fathers, shouldn’t be separated. Plus I travel often so they are company for each other when I’m gone. They don’t appreciate that I planned that consideration for them. They sense my plans days before I even take my travel bag out of the closet. Their upturned faces show me the saddest of eyes tugging at my inner softness. It makes me not want to go anywhere and I have always loved to go, anywhere.
That’s also when they begin adhering to my ankles, in front of, rubbing the sides of and tangling in between. Sometimes I’m nearly tripping just trying to stand up. It seems as though invisible glue keeps them in place. I step, they step, I sit, they sit, I breathe, they breathe.
They are Lady Jane and Mz Lizzie. The Bennet sisters from Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice.” Jane was upgraded to a titled ‘Lady’ because she is; just like Jane in the story. Her personality and being born minutes earlier gives her the older sister air. She’s also shy and reserved, but can romp (like a rabbit) beside Lizzie when encouraged. She’s a Manx. Black and white, no tail.
Lizzie follows Elizabeth’s personality. She’s daring, impish, funny and cuddly. I can sometimes see an idea forming by a light popping up in her eyes. She’s full of life and energy. She can talk the ears off an elephant. She’s a calico born with a bent two-inch tail.
They are blessings in my life.
So when these two adorable rescued kittens were first placed in front of me like gift boxes to choose from, I took both. Sisters, even with different fathers, shouldn’t be separated. Plus I travel often so they are company for each other when I’m gone. They don’t appreciate that I planned that consideration for them. They sense my plans days before I even take my travel bag out of the closet. Their upturned faces show me the saddest of eyes tugging at my inner softness. It makes me not want to go anywhere and I have always loved to go, anywhere.
That’s also when they begin adhering to my ankles, in front of, rubbing the sides of and tangling in between. Sometimes I’m nearly tripping just trying to stand up. It seems as though invisible glue keeps them in place. I step, they step, I sit, they sit, I breathe, they breathe.
They are Lady Jane and Mz Lizzie. The Bennet sisters from Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice.” Jane was upgraded to a titled ‘Lady’ because she is; just like Jane in the story. Her personality and being born minutes earlier gives her the older sister air. She’s also shy and reserved, but can romp (like a rabbit) beside Lizzie when encouraged. She’s a Manx. Black and white, no tail.
Lizzie follows Elizabeth’s personality. She’s daring, impish, funny and cuddly. I can sometimes see an idea forming by a light popping up in her eyes. She’s full of life and energy. She can talk the ears off an elephant. She’s a calico born with a bent two-inch tail.
They are blessings in my life.
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Year Tradition
Traditions of cooking on New Year’s Day have changed quite a bit in some households since the fever of football has taken over. Nibbles and snacks hold appetites at bay until the real dinner is served. Foods that go a long way to feed a house full of people, or not, are a great idea.
Following in my mother’s teachings, I cook Pork and Sauerkraut with Potatoes for good luck in the coming year. It’s an old German custom handed down from her mother and grandmother. Of course they made their own sauerkraut from cabbage harvested in the fall.
Mom told me, “Sauerkraut in huge barrels lined the cellar. Grandmother would send me down with a pot to bring some up. I hated going downstairs but would eat handfuls of the kraut before I filled the pot. That was my reward for facing the fears of a dark, scary basement.”
I buy mine is a plastic bag.
Following in my mother’s teachings, I cook Pork and Sauerkraut with Potatoes for good luck in the coming year. It’s an old German custom handed down from her mother and grandmother. Of course they made their own sauerkraut from cabbage harvested in the fall.
Mom told me, “Sauerkraut in huge barrels lined the cellar. Grandmother would send me down with a pot to bring some up. I hated going downstairs but would eat handfuls of the kraut before I filled the pot. That was my reward for facing the fears of a dark, scary basement.”
I buy mine is a plastic bag.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Year's End 2006
A custom for many at the end of the year is to pause, think back over the last year and what best and worst has come from it. A few items I thought about are: books, not newly published but new to me. “Jane Austen, A Life” by Claire Tomalin published in 1997 and “Her Own Woman, The Life of Mary Wollstonecraft” by Diane Jacobs published in 2001 are two of the best books I read out of many excellent ones. Curiously they are about two women writers living in the same time period, the late 1700s and early 1800s but living very different lives. Both their lives were severely affected by the lack of fortunes left to care for them. Yet both have left an imprint, both are still being read about and their works republished two hundred years later.
Another book that thrilled me (that I could read and learn about them) was “Stealing Heaven, The Love Story of Heloise and Abelard” by Marion Meade published in 1979. Nine hundred years after the fact, the love this couple shared until they died, separated by the walls of convents and monasteries is still exciting in the printed form. How can I choose a ‘best’ book? Impossible.
Looking over the videos I acquired this year in the absence of having television channels I choose The Merchant of Venice starring Al Pacino, Jeremy Irons, Joseph Fiennes and Lynn Collins. This movie has it all, a great acting cast, great background music, great quality, colorful period clothing and scenes of a favorite city, Venice. Love, mystery, humor, history and the dialog of a poet. What more can there be?
I choose BBC’s “The Duchess of Duke Street” for the best series. This story has been around for a while, but I just found it by chance. Based on the true story of Edwardian Rosa Lewis who began as a servant and emerged into the owner-manager of the London society’s sought after private hotel, the Bentinck.
For the music category I have taken classical music into my sphere of listening. This came about by watching-Impromtu, Children of the Century and Chopin, Desire for Love-all videos of George Sand and Frederic Chopin and their mutual friend, Franz Liszt. After watching the movies I just had to know more about their music and I’m following up with books on their lives and other composers of classical music.
It’s been a good that will hopefully lead on to more good things in 2007.
Another book that thrilled me (that I could read and learn about them) was “Stealing Heaven, The Love Story of Heloise and Abelard” by Marion Meade published in 1979. Nine hundred years after the fact, the love this couple shared until they died, separated by the walls of convents and monasteries is still exciting in the printed form. How can I choose a ‘best’ book? Impossible.
Looking over the videos I acquired this year in the absence of having television channels I choose The Merchant of Venice starring Al Pacino, Jeremy Irons, Joseph Fiennes and Lynn Collins. This movie has it all, a great acting cast, great background music, great quality, colorful period clothing and scenes of a favorite city, Venice. Love, mystery, humor, history and the dialog of a poet. What more can there be?
I choose BBC’s “The Duchess of Duke Street” for the best series. This story has been around for a while, but I just found it by chance. Based on the true story of Edwardian Rosa Lewis who began as a servant and emerged into the owner-manager of the London society’s sought after private hotel, the Bentinck.
For the music category I have taken classical music into my sphere of listening. This came about by watching-Impromtu, Children of the Century and Chopin, Desire for Love-all videos of George Sand and Frederic Chopin and their mutual friend, Franz Liszt. After watching the movies I just had to know more about their music and I’m following up with books on their lives and other composers of classical music.
It’s been a good that will hopefully lead on to more good things in 2007.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Bizarre Happening
For the end of the year I report a bizarre happening to me. This is an extreme event that is hard to believe but true. I’m not an athletic person but have played baseball, football and soccer as a youth. I ran and walked for daily exercise for the past 15 years and now ride a stationary bike nearly everyday to keep up bone density, strength, etc.
Yesterday while sitting in a wing-backed chair reading a smallish size book, “A Mapmaker’s Dream” Meditations of Fra Mauro, Cartographer of the Court of Venice, by James Cowan I sprained my wrist! I was holding the book in my left hand, thumb on the inside, next three fingers on the outside and pinkie on the inside opposite page. Try it. Since the book is new and 7” X 5” I applied quick pressure to open the pages wider to read along the crease easier. Yipes! I pulled some kind of muscle or delicate vein or something that now gives me great pain at the slightest wrong movement. Bizarro!
Of course I wrapped it. Can you imagine trying to explain to a doctor how I sprained my wrist?
Yesterday while sitting in a wing-backed chair reading a smallish size book, “A Mapmaker’s Dream” Meditations of Fra Mauro, Cartographer of the Court of Venice, by James Cowan I sprained my wrist! I was holding the book in my left hand, thumb on the inside, next three fingers on the outside and pinkie on the inside opposite page. Try it. Since the book is new and 7” X 5” I applied quick pressure to open the pages wider to read along the crease easier. Yipes! I pulled some kind of muscle or delicate vein or something that now gives me great pain at the slightest wrong movement. Bizarro!
Of course I wrapped it. Can you imagine trying to explain to a doctor how I sprained my wrist?
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Remembering Names
Everyone seems to have their own little ways of remembering names. Some with thought association as in what the person looks like i.e. John Bull-think of an English Bulldog, Mary Kay-think pink, Alice Bird-think bluejay. This can be embarrassing if you slip and use the association word instead of the name. Oh well.
Others use the repeat technique. Repeat the person’s name over and over again as you’re shaking hands, of course it’s hard to listen to what is being said while you’re concentrating on your repeats. Also it’s difficult to do this when you’re meeting several people at once.
Another way is to really look at a person while you’re hearing their name. I like to use this technique. This makes it especially embarrassing that I recently, in my last blog, took two fine individuals and formed them into one. My apologies to June Gibbs and Judy Baker. My mind was too full of bathing puppies, associating you both with the joyful event.
Others use the repeat technique. Repeat the person’s name over and over again as you’re shaking hands, of course it’s hard to listen to what is being said while you’re concentrating on your repeats. Also it’s difficult to do this when you’re meeting several people at once.
Another way is to really look at a person while you’re hearing their name. I like to use this technique. This makes it especially embarrassing that I recently, in my last blog, took two fine individuals and formed them into one. My apologies to June Gibbs and Judy Baker. My mind was too full of bathing puppies, associating you both with the joyful event.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
New Puppy Wash
When June Gibbs invited me to the puppy wash at the new Animal Shelter, I heartily agreed to be there on Friday. The event is no longer a social gathering of animal lovers sharing an evening of volunteering, but it’s just as satisfying.
While waiting for a working crew to check in I played with the kittens. This gives them a chance to be out of their cages with the reassuring comfort of human touch. It gives me comfort, too. Sometimes I just get so busy with life. Stopping to play with a kitten or a puppy brings me right back to basic human needs. A connection.
The new facilities at the shelter are great to work in, organized, efficient. The puppies are as much fun as always, showing their different personalities early in their life. Some sit docile, letting us rub and scrub them, others are so full of energy they can’t sit still. They all love being towel dried getting ready to meet their adopted parents.
While waiting for a working crew to check in I played with the kittens. This gives them a chance to be out of their cages with the reassuring comfort of human touch. It gives me comfort, too. Sometimes I just get so busy with life. Stopping to play with a kitten or a puppy brings me right back to basic human needs. A connection.
The new facilities at the shelter are great to work in, organized, efficient. The puppies are as much fun as always, showing their different personalities early in their life. Some sit docile, letting us rub and scrub them, others are so full of energy they can’t sit still. They all love being towel dried getting ready to meet their adopted parents.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Florence Poets Society
The Florence Poets Society gave me another reason to give thanks this Thanksgiving Holiday. On Friday when I plucked open my mailbox a thick envelope lay there with their Massachusetts return address on the envelope. A question mark appeared in my mind as I walked to the house.
After tearing the envelope open, I read the brief note sticking out from a soft-covered book from co-director Carl Russo suggesting I see page 44. Wow! They published my “words & paper &” poem in the Silkworm 2006 annual review of the Florence Poets Society under the Poets of Distinction section. A complete but delightful surprise.
After tearing the envelope open, I read the brief note sticking out from a soft-covered book from co-director Carl Russo suggesting I see page 44. Wow! They published my “words & paper &” poem in the Silkworm 2006 annual review of the Florence Poets Society under the Poets of Distinction section. A complete but delightful surprise.
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