True or False with the Birthday Girl

Today is the big day - I knew I'd get a royal baby for my birthday, but damn - I wanted a GIRL.  Even knowing I wouldn't live to see her take the throne, I would have been content with knowing a female was finally in the line of succession.  (This is the kind of stuff English major's obsess over.)

I am now 55,  which seems very strange because mentally I feel about 42 or 43.... but enough about that, let's get to the list.  Since "with age comes wisdom," I am going to take another opportunity to clarify some of the OTHER conventional wisdom that is out there, and some of it about weddings because I so loathe what they have become and wish to straighten out as many people as I might.  

1. You are as young as you feel. 
False.  I think I'm 42, and I FEEL like I'm 93 and have spent the past 4 years in a cement mixer filled with broken glass and blunt instruments.

2. Outdoor summer weddings are wonderful. 
False.  I have a distinguished history of giving solid wedding advice and I bat a thousand when I say that outdoor summer weddings are anathema. Witness the vast number of white plastic chairs blistering in the summer heat at the shore hotels near my home.  Who in their right mind would make their guests go out and fry their asses in a humid, miserable sweat while the self-involved couple declares eternal love in badly written vows that drone on forever? Dear Bride and Groom:  I hope your presents suck.

3. Never go to bed angry.
False.  If you know and trust yourself, do whatever you like. Me? I know and trust myself, and I know that if we hadn't gone to bed good and angry a few times there would have been body bags at the curb the next morning.  Sometimes you need to retreat to neutral corners to calm down, cool off, and think about the problem. Harsh words said in anger are highly unlikely to be forgotten.

4.  Keep it simple. 
True. Simple is cleaner, clearer, less expensive and all around better.  St. Elizabeth Ann Seton once said, "Dress simply. It makes a pretty woman prettier and an ugly woman less noticeable."  Guest lists should ALWAYS be simplified. One bride complained (on the internet in front of God and everybody) that a full one-third of her wedding guests didn't send gifts. Earth to clueless bride: this indicates you invited a boatload of people who are 1) not friends, and 2) would have gladly stayed home.

5. You get what you pay for. 
Pretty much true. If I had a time machine I'd go back and buy really good shoes instead of the $9.95 Kmart sandals with high heels. It is probably the reason why I have a shoe wardrobe about about 5 pairs of shoes, all flats. I ruined my feet.
Same for clothes, furniture, the whole drill.  Quality and durability are never found bargain basement prices.

6. Measure twice, cut once. 
True. In construction and in quilting, truer words were never spoken. Ask anyone who has ever made a quilt to tell you about how they learned that lesson. Have some alcohol on hand because it gets pretty grim.

7. Slow and steady wins the race.
Pretty much always true.  I actually have a setting on my Bernina that caps me at 1/2 speed. I use it from time to time and it has always proven to be a wise move. It keeps me from screaming along when sewing long seams that need a consistent seam allowance of 1/4 inch.  That was not a typo - 1/4 inch.

8.  No pain, no gain. 
Pants on fire false. God made salty, buttered popcorn so we could gain and gain painlessly.

9. You look better with a tan.
True. Most people do.  However, there will come a point in time when your skin will sag and wrinkle and dehydrate and you will look a full 30 years older than you are. Case in point - I moved out here when I was 26 and took one look at the tan-every-summer matriarchs and bought a damn hat.  Never regretted it.  Spray-on tans if you must,  but the real thing will kill you with cancer and/or ugly.

10. A true friend will be with you for the good and bad times and love you through both. 
True beyond belief.  I think about that every year on my birthday and again on New Year's Eve.  I am ridiculously blessed with a great group of friends, and a smaller, inner circle made up of those who I know would run to help me in a crisis, keep any secret, call me on my BS, and constantly surprise me with their generosity.

So while the list of things I want for my birthday is long and boring (kitchen floor, storm doors on the front and back door, carpet torn out of the bedroom, paint for about 4 rooms) I really already have the gifts of a kick ass family,  priceless friends and a husband I adore. Bonus - my Mom once told me, "He looks at you like he made you from clay." Every time I tell him I love him, he shakes his head and says, "I love you more."
How can you ask for more than that?  Happy birthday to me.

Dueling Saints

Today is the Feast of St. Joseph so my husband Joe  is celebrating his feast day. Since he had Sicilian parents and their heritage included a tremendous devotion to St. Joseph,  the observance involved emptying the furniture out of a main room,  constructing a huge altar with 3 tiers, draping it with the colors for that year (kind of like a prom theme) and then loading it up with all kinds of lamps, candles, flowers, statuary, etc. Once the novena began the house would fill up nightly with Italian ladies who would sit in the rented folding chairs before the altar, pray the rosary and singing feast day songs at the top of their lungs, all in a  pre-WWII Sicilian dialect. At the end of the hour they moved to the kitchen and had coffee and pastries and chatted. It was a thing of beauty.

[caption id="attachment_2908" align="alignleft" width="225"] Small but Sincere![/caption]

The feast itself was a consummate tribute to Sicilian culture and cuisine.  Maria's version of Pasta di San Giuseppe was a marvel of cauliflower, fava  beans, chick peas, and other ingredients that made a chunky, creamy white sauce served over  homemade pasta.  It was not for the faint of heart - you either loved it or hated it. (I loved it.) The rest of the dishes were largely seafood based (it being Lent and living in a fishing community) and side dishes included battered artichoke hearts and stuffed, sun-dried tomatoes - long before those became "popular" here in the U.S.  It was no wonder my Irish heritage was largely ignored as St. Patrick's Day got lost in the shuffle.  As the years passed, and Maria did likewise, the festivities moved to other houses.  St. Patrick's got back on the map, but not in ways I ever anticipated.

I love my Irish heritage and I'm a bit of a purist.  My grandma, Margaret Carroll McGill,  was born and raised in County Kerry and she told me I never had to wear green on St. Patrick's day because I had true Irish blood. (Somehow I got it in my head that my blood turned green on St. Patrick's Day and I always wanted to prick my finger to see it bleed - and see if it was green.)  My mother never made corned beef and cabbage because 1) she probably didn't like it and 2) it really isn't an Irish dish.  Irish bacon and colcannon are more proper, and I"m not a big fan of any variation of colcannon I've ever made.   My observance of St. Patrick's Day centers around using my Belleek china or having a pint of Guinness (no proper Irishman would be caught dead drinking green beer).  My husband? The Sicilian prince?  Loves corned beef and cabbage. When I say "loves" corned beef & cabbage, I mean "would marry it". He has a serious problem.  This really happened:

Joe:  I went to the store and picked up some groceries.

Me: Good, we were getting low.  What did you get?

Joe: Well, I bought a nice slab of corned beef!

Me: Really?  (Jokingly) Just one?

Joe:  Well, actually I bought two and thought I would freeze one....

Me:  Seriously?  Two?

Joe: Well (pointing to the refrigerator) .... there might be three in there.

Me: THREE?  There MIGHT be three?  Are you serious?

Joe: Well, we never have leftovers to make corned beef hash and I know you like that.

Oh yes, I'm sure he bought it for me.  He does that a lot. He will come home with a ham and say, "Look what I got you!" (Ham = oxygen to him.) In Sicilian culture, food is love. He shows his love for me by bringing home food he loves. Whatever. He cooks it (I refuse to) and enjoys it with as much relish as he does his feast day pasta.  March is his favorite month.

These days our altar is small but very sincere. We used to have a little silver tray to hold the mass cards of people we had lost, but as years passed we graduated to a lovely crystal bowl. After this round, I think we need to find a bigger bowl.  In twenty-five years we have collected a lot of those little cards. It is with great love and many tears we go through and review  them, but we always try to remember how lucky we were - and still are - to have loved so many wonderful souls. We pray for them, for families and friends, and this year for the new Pope Francis on whom the future of the church hangs in precarious balance. He will need all the help he can get.  I have set aside many of the beliefs taught to me in my youth, but I have hope in him. Besides, who better than the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi to guide us going forward?

Ninety for 90

My Aunt Addie is turning 90 in April. To celebrate this milestone, her kids arranged for each of the 90 days preceding her birthday to be marked with a unique gesture of love from one of her kin. I am one of the privileged members of my extended family to be invited to do so - and I say privileged because 1) I adore her and 2) there are waaayyy more than 90 people in my family to choose from. We are a proper and prolific Irish clan.

Aunt Addie has always been on short my list of people who I want to be when I grow up. My earliest memories of her involve big family gatherings in Madison, Nebraska, and how she and my Aunt Helen were in the center of it all, coordinating the feeding, caring and oversight and sleeping arrangements of a ton of hungry cousins.

In addition to raising large families, they were both nurses. I remember how competently and efficiently they managed the day when their mother (my Grandma McGill) had a stroke. I was in my early teens and pretty honked about not being able to play the cool organ Aunt Addie had in her house because they were trying to keep things quiet for Grandma. (Sorry, Grandma.) Once, my younger brother Steve was with her in a restaurant and they ordered coffee. When the waitress poured and Aunt Addie took a sip, the war-horse nurse in her came out when she said, "Oh, I could VOID coffee warmer than this." I think Steve spit his out when she said that, but it was such typical stuff from her. Aunt Addie kicks ass. A few years ago she went to see my Dad in the hospital. He was whining about wanting to go home. Once approved, she put him in her car and took him back to his assisted living facility, got out her walker and made the long trip to his room with him, got him settled and adjusted his catheter, grabbed her walker and made the long trek back to her car. (She later told one of my siblings that she wished his room was closer to the entrance.)

Aunt Addie was widowed early, but she pushed right on and maintained. She was the first one in the car for a trip to the casino, and still is - she loves to gamble. She makes it to family events, keeps track of who was who and does it all with astonishing humor and good grace. One of the best parts of going home to see my family is a trip to Madison to see her. I could sit at her kitchen table and listen to her for hours. She radiates wisdom, humor and good times.

My most precious memory of her is when Mom was in the hospital /hospice with pancreatic cancer. They cousins brought her out to Lexington so she could see her sister one more time and I was sitting in Mom's room when Addie arrived. Mom was pretty narc'd up at that point, but when Addie came in she raised her arms and thickly murmured, "Oh AAahhhdiiiee." Addie sat on the bed and held her little sister and talked to her, touched her face and the love was so unabashed and naked I had to look away. I've never witnessed such strength in my life. I weep now as I am writing this, remembering her grace, how she didn't lose it, she didn't cry, she just poured out such love and kindness and goodness. I'm sure she cried a river of tears later, but those last moments they had together were spectacularly beautiful. We should all be so lucky.

Back to the matter at hand - what am I going to do for my "Ninety for 90"? I thought about doing several different things, but many have already been done. She's had cakes, pies, flowers, phone calls. Chicago White Sox memorabilia, gift cards, lunches and dinner out - all kinds of great stuff. Since the economy is sour, one person minted her a trillion-dollar bill . She took it to the Senior Citizens lunch and presented it to pay for her meal. (They didn't have enough change.) Oh, and did I mention she is hand writing proper thank you notes to each of us for her gifts? She is grace personified. Wish her a happy birthday!

 

The Internet Wins

Part of having officially arrived at "Old Fart" status is coping with my hyper awareness of the lack of research, accuracy and useful information disseminated by the media. The demands of a 24 hour news cycle have made it impossible to give a story it's due and move on.  It has to be whipped into a frenzy and subject to all kinds of speculation by "experts" who clamor for attention and air time. Most troubling is how hard it has become to watch the news without frequently hearing, "according to unconfirmed reports" and "X Network News reports" when you are on a different network than X News and they don't have a clue if it is accurate but the teleprompter rolls with it anyway.   I understand how the Internet has conditioned us to expect instant access to events, but without any practiced eye reviewing them for content, factual accuracy or relevance? In doing that it has also made many of the people who bring us that news incredibly lazy.

This morning was a case in point.  For the second time in as many days, my husband (who serves in elected office) was misquoted regarding a city issue.  The really sad part?  I listened to him patiently  explain -  point by point - to the reporter how he was misquoted the day before, yet after all that the reporter went ahead and published the same damn misinformation for the second time.  Joe even attempted to help the kid out by recommending he call someone else connected with the story, to the extent he gave him the name, place of work and street the guy lives on to help him out.  The reporter's response?  "Oh.... I'll just Google it."  In the process of "just Googling it" the reporter came across some clearly outdated interviews and presented that information as current. Additionally, he didn't bother to "Google up" the one person who could clarify the information and make this article oh, I don't know, ACCURATE?

[caption id="attachment_2861" align="alignright" width="300"] Bass Rocks, Gloucester[/caption]

One of the things I love and admire most about Joe is his thick skin, his security in his own ego and his incredible ability to roll his eyes and shrug off the number of inaccuracies in newspaper ink.  My Irish soul rails up and demands action - he just shrugs it off as young-reporter-inevitable and goes peacefully on with his life. I admire that ability more than I can express. He is eleven years older and a diabetic, but he will surely outlive me because I will expire of repressed rage and angst. He is so "glass half full" that sometimes I want to strangle him. In fairness, he has wisely (and accurately) stated that if we were both of the same ilk, "We would have thrown ourselves off the rocks a long time ago."  Thank heavens for balance in the universe.

I bet a lot of "reporters" rely on Wikipedia "The Free Encyclopedia that ANYONE Can Edit!" and Google to do 95% of their job for them. Equally lazy college students are picking up material for term papers off the internet and then getting busted for plagiarism because there are software programs specially developed for colleges to combat such rampant abuse. Fast and easy trumps accurate and intelligently researched every time.

Let's end on a high note. One of the best commercials EVER made is this one by State Farm Insurance:



Yup, the internet wins.

To Tree or Not to Tree - Update

This past January I reflected on not having put up a Christmas tree for the past 10 years,  ( To Tree or Not to Tree ) so I thought I should begin the holiday season with a happy update.

We have a tree!

It's a small one, but it's lovely and full and vintage and smells sooooo good!  It takes up gallons of water and sheds needles and tinsel every time I come near it so it's perfect. Wait - TINSEL?  Oh yes, I did the tinsel thing. I bought it as a joke - the packages were $1 - but when I finished trimming the tree in those lovely vintage 40's and 50's ornaments I thought, "What the hell - try a little!"  Well, a little became a little more and while it does not look like the tinsel fairy threw up on the tree, it is tinseled and it looks wonderful.   Normally I loathe the stuff but for some unknown reason this year it just seemed... right.

When I come downstairs in the morning and saunter into the family room with my coffee and my iPad,  I smell the tree's fragrance and I smile. I sip coffee and unlock the Angry Birds Seasons episode of the day and look at my tree and feel peaceful. Evenings are good, too, with the teeny blue tree lights that make the silver tinsel look blueish. It soothes me to see that icy blue in winter because it brings back a favorite childhood memory.

While driving home from a visit to Grandpa and Grandma Major, the sub-zero cold of a Nebraska night made for a spectacular, star filled sky. The clear, dark sky made the white snowy fields turn a kind of blueish tint.  It was like a fairyland, and to a young girl at Christmas it was magical. Everyone else would fall asleep, Dad would be driving at breakneck speed (it was legal then) and I would ask him to keep making the headlights change from dim to bright - and he could do it with no hands!  I though he was a genius - little did I know the button to toggle  the bright headlights was on the floor by the brake. I thought he was magic. The night landscape was enchanting. Such a simple thing, but I have remembered it - vividly - my entire life.

Many, many years later I was driving around Gloucester looking at Christmas lights, feeling homesick and miserable. Then I saw it - a big house with a massive front lawn lit entirely by....blue lights.  The snowy front lawn had that same blueish tint. I pulled over, got out of my car and snuck around the hedge and just stared at the whole scene. (It was very late, no one was up.)  I got a little weepy.  Happy weepy. I felt better.  I got back in my car and went home. *

I'm one of the fortunate few who aren't driven to distraction by the holiday shopping  and the stress of holiday cooking.  I love to cook - so does my husband - and we really have limited resources so gift buying is at a bare minimum.  It's very liberating to take such control over the holiday madness. It is a gift unto itself. Light those Advent candles and enjoy every ritual of the season.  I truly am, for the first time in many years.

*Happy Update #2 - I later met the owner of that house and he has since become one of my dearest friends. He still puts up the blue lights but now I enjoy them with a cocktail in my hand beside a roaring fire - he is also a kindred, pyromaniac soul.  Every year, every time - it's magical.

The Advent of Advent

Even thought I still have to cope with idiots who do not know the meaning of Advent - I like Advent.  It begins on Sunday and is a familiar ritual involving  lit candles and a winter cleaning of the soul. I find myself taking inventory of the past year, what went down (vs. what did not -  like my weight) and thinking about what I want to do with the time I have left. Face it, at my age I know I have less time ahead of me than I do behind me and I'm good with that.  I'm tired, for Pete's sake, but I still want to make sure I use that time wisely and well.

I'm also busy making Christmas gifts because 1) I like to, and 2) all funds are delegated to paying bills and utilities.  I have a place  in the family room all cleared out for a Christmas tree - we can pick up a small one for very little and I have a need to get back to trimming a real tree that smells good, sheds needles - the works.  I like the long observance of Advent and slower Christmas.   I've never been one for the  Black Friday or Cyber Monday sales frenzy even when I did have money to shop.  I just don't particularly like shopping.  It seems a waste of time to me and is often very frustrating.  I like simple things, good lines, fine fabric and appreciate a nice seam finish. Try finding that these days.

Maybe that is why I can spend hours embroidering wool felt and watching Christmas movies.  Every ornament is unique, every movie gets better with another viewing.  Right now I'm watching ELF on an endless loop.  There are more good one-liners in that movie than in almost any other Christmas movie.  This past Sunday was the Downtown Santa Parade and while Santa looked pretty authentic sitting on top of the fire department's ladder truck, I knew it wasn't the REAL Santa and it was all I could do to not yell out, "YOU SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES!"

Slow down and enjoy the season. Life outside of the usual frantic holiday circus is pretty sweet and makes for better memories.

 

Timely Seasonal Decking

This morning I was in the basement scouring through cobwebs and boxes for some Christmas tree lights for use at the store. We're setting up a little half-tree and planning the Christmas merchandising of ornaments. Now before you start whining about "Christmas aaaaallllreaaaadddyy?" I have one thing to say: shut up.  It's eight weeks away and frankly it's about time you all learned how retail works.

There is a certain amount of square footage in stores designated as "seasonal". There is nothing else to go in that spot (otherwise it would be already somewhere else in the store.) Consequently, some stores put out their seasonal merchandise pre-seasonally because otherwise it would be a big empty space where dust, dead bugs and live spiders collect.  Want to see that when you are shopping? Probably not. (It also makes the store look like it is going out of business when it is not.) Many stores have no space to store freight so as it comes in it goes right out on the shelves.  It doesn't make sense to wait and put out the winter coats on December first when the snow flies early in November - they go out in September when people are thinking and planning ahead.  Please note:  You are not at any point in your life forced to look at or purchase anything in the seasonal section so walk on by and get to whatever it is you need. ( BTW, if you shop to kill time, you need a life. )

Back to the tree lights.

While rummaging around in the basement I saw lots of lovely things I used to put up for Christmas.  I remembered my "To Tree or Not to Tree" dilemma and made a decision:  I'm going to start decking.  Not immediately - I have a home-grown pumpkin and gourds on my mantle and I like that.  We haven't had a hard frost or a warm fire yet, so I'm not completely off the reservation.  However, I am planning on spending some time in the basement this week, sorting it all out and planning what will go where.  I'm going to put it up and ENJOY looking at it all through November and December. I'm going to decorate the dining room, the family room, our bedroom and the kitchen.  I have all of these beautiful things that make me happy to look at - what purpose do they serve in boxes downstairs? Some of them have been down there in the dark so long I have forgotten about them. (Hey, new stuff!) Thanksgiving,  my favorite holiday, falls in the middle of it all and gives me a perfect opportunity to stop and inventory the past year and count the many blessings, people and gifts in my life.

Today is our 24th wedding anniversary but Joe is at a City Council meeting tonight so there won't be moonlight and roses and that is ok.  Tomorrow night we're planning to get Chinese food & crack open a very good bottle of champagne  and watch our wedding video.  We haven't watched it in about 20 years - at first it was old hat, but eventually we stopped watching because as we lost family members and other loved ones we just couldn't bear to look at them without weeping.

Too often I plod through the days and weeks and seasons and think about "next year, next time."  It feels like it's time now.  I may be dissolved in tears through much of the wedding video but we both want to look back and remember the day - and laugh at the bad 80's hair and shoulder pads.  I will probably get weepy unfolding the Christmas table runner Mom made but I want it out and on display - it is gorgeous.

It is time.

Getting "IT"

It's never a good sign when I'm playing around with the look of my blog. It is an indicator of  one of two things: brain freeze ( I got nuthin')  or time-out (when I'm stressed, heat stressed, anxiety stressed, etc. and anything I put on the internet would be of the shock and awe variety, and not the "good" shock and awe, either. ) So there you go.  I'm playing with the look of my blog.  (Okay, I'm in time-out.)

In the meantime I have an amazing labor of love to occupy my hands.  A very good friend has one of the wall hangings made by my mother. We used to sell them in our store here in Gloucester and then mail a check back to her where she would cash it in and buy more quilting fabric.  (Mom kicked ass that way.)     Linn  has had this beauty hanging in her home for many years and recently asked me to take it home and give it a wash - she was nervous about doing it herself.  Okey dokey.  Washed. Line dried in the approaching scorching heat.  When I took it down I noticed that the sleeve on the back of the hanging had some places where the threads had just let go.  Age happens.  I found a spool of black thread and a sharp needle and I'm redoing the entire sleeve.  It is a miracle that I'm able to do it without clutching it to my chest, crying, and refusing to let it go.  (Eleven years later I think I'm finally making progress with my  grief.)  I'm actually enjoying the process, loving the chance to work on something my mom made, and grateful for the fact that Linn GETS IT.

There are not a lot of people out there who "get it" when it comes to quilts or, for that matter, anything hand crafted.  Paintings in galleries are found "worthy" but quilts, knit socks, hats or scarves are just KRAFTY with a K and not "worthy" of being looked at as serious creative expressions that require time and talent.  It has been an uphill battle for years.  To show my serious intent I was going to start a quilt guild here in Gloucester and call it "Quilt Bitches" and we'd all get Harley-Davidson tattoos (but the motorcycle would have a quilted seat.)  Cool, right? 'Cept I'd never get a tattoo.

A quilter's quest for street cred is apparently a life-long venture.  This is made more difficult by The Learning Channel's newest program, Craft Wars, hosted by..... TORI SPELLING.  Seriously, TLC?  I personally believe the only time she's had a hot glue gun in her hand was when she was replacing some hair extensions that had fallen out. A Twitter peep of mine remarked that  while she did watch the debut show,  she found "Tori's  clown-like makeup distracting."  TLC needs to learn (oohh, how ironic...) that credibility is an important part of attracting an intelligent and respectful audience who - when given intelligent content from creditable sources - have a way of going out and spending money with the show's sponsors to recreate those ideas in their own home.  It's a concept.

Time to get back to sewing the sleeve on this wall hanging.  Linn was skittish about  washing it herself because she wanted to make sure it was done carefully and properly because she loves this thing as much as I do.  She respects the time, effort, labor and creativity that went in to producing it. She gets it.

The Quest for Unscented Anything

A few weeks ago we celebrated Joe's milestone birthday with an outdoor party.  I really enjoy using my nice linens and vintage pitchers and containers for vases and candles.  I think it makes the party more personal when you celebrate it with things that are special to you. The problem came when I went in search of candles for the centerpieces. I love me some fire on the table and usually have a formidable stash of candles but alas, I had apparently (and literally)  burned through my supply. No probs, I thought, I'll just pick up some more.

NOT.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find unscented candles?  I'm talking about pillar candles here, not a wimpy tea light or formal tapers (I always have those) - I wanted a nice, sturdy candle that would burn for hours. (Hey, my friends are 1) thirsty and 2) big talkers.) We have long, luxurious "dinner in Italy" style meals.  It's the BEST.  Anyway, I burned a lot of time and gasoline in my quest and came up with butkus.  I was more than annoyed - I was ticked off.  Really folks, do you want to smell "woodsy pine" or "cinnamon apple" when you are eating dinner?  No.  Why is everything SCENTED?  Why do people buy home deodorizers that run continuously and make their houses smell like a powder room?  Why not save the money and spend a little time finding the source of what is making your house smell so bad that you need to install a 24/7 deodorizer?  Jimmy Hoffa's body has to be somewhere, right?

Admittedly, my pale Irish skin is oversensitive to scented lotions and products. So is my pale Irish nose. I am on a quest to locate a lifetime supply of Dove unscented deodorant. I loved it and can no longer find it among the 24 varieties they now offer.  Really, Dove?  I used to love your unscented body wash and you had to mess with that, too.  You used to be the industry standard for not-crapping-up-products-with-cloying-fragrance.  If I try a new a shampoo or hairspray and I love the results  it still goes right into the trash if the scent is cloying and overpowering.  I smell it ALL DAY LONG. 

Back to the candles.  I solved my dilemma at the grocery store.  No, they did not carry unscented candles.  They did carry Yahrzeit candles and I could not believe I didn't think of it sooner. ( I spent 4 years as a nanny for a Jewish family where I learned about the tradition of burning that candle on the anniversary of the death of a loved one.  Always loved the idea.) I bought six of them and took them home to put in the arrangements.

The finished product was lovely - I grouped them on the smaller table the next morning and we had a lovely, private brunch. (We were house sitting.) Of course we honored the intent of the Yahrzeit candle.  We lit six candles - three for Joe's mother, father, and his only brother who have gone before us.  We lit two for my parents, also gone before us. We lit the final one for the pregnancy we had that didn't make it all the way to the finish line.  While we wanted all of those souls to be present it was simply not possible. We  took comfort in the fact that we were able to remember them with such deep love and light - and so privately,  just between the two of us.

It was a wonderful evening and the candles burned blissfully unscented long into the night. We shared memories, gave speeches, talked about the people we love and gave thanks for the people in our lives, living or not-so-living.  Joe had me in tears when he talked about the "luckiest day in his life, July 4, 1987."  (The day we met.)  How wonderful is that? I love happy endings.

Life in First Class

We have already established how I feel about weddings on holiday weekends so you can imagine my chagrin when I was invited to one such event held this past Memorial Day weekend. When the invitation arrived I felt confidently "off the hook" as the wedding was in Nashville. Case closed, right?

Wrong.  The bride's doting uncles wanted me along for the ride - and the fun - and proposed an all expense paid trip to "Nash-Vegas" for the wedding.  First-class airfare, hotel and EVERYTHING.  How can you say no to THAT?  I sure as hell could not  so I decadently packed a whole suitcase (not having to share space with Joe!) and learned the ways of First Class air travel.  It was like a dream.

The first stop was priority check in where I checked my big honkin' suitcase.... with no fee.  Walked down to the boarding area carrying my only my ticket and a big purse. Boarded first.  Sat in the first row (all 4 segments).  Was treated with courtesy and offered my choice of beverages and nibbles. (Sidebar - I don't drink on airplanes. Bummer.) (Sidebar II - I can't pee on airplanes. Seriously. TMI, I know. )

As a  25 year veteran of flying steerage I found the entire experience A-MAY-ZING. The worst, most hated part of taking a trip became positively pleasant. It made me think back to the long ago days when EVERYONE could check a bag - nay, 2 - without a charge.  When seats and spacing between rows was reasonable. When you could climb in and out of your coach seat without the use of WD-40, a crowbar and a colon compactor.

[caption id="attachment_2601" align="alignleft" width="300"] First Class Hat - Purchased in Nashville![/caption]

I am sure  my next trip will be absolutely miserable by comparison. I resent that. I don't expect the First Class experience with what I can afford but there were  aspects of this trip that were once commonplace to those of us who routinely do the walk-of-shame past the First Class passengers on our way back to the goat pens.

I don't fly much anymore because flying has become such an ORDEAL.  I never fly to New York anymore, I take the train. I'll take a train anywhere, even if it costs more and takes longer.  It's worth it. It is worth it in civility, personal space and fees.  It is especially worth it since you don't have to deal with nimrod TSA agents with a power complex.

The wedding?  The service was lovely and the bride stunningly beautiful. (She spent 2 summers here and I was the pseudo-Aunt).  The soloist sang Schubert's "Ave Maria" which usually reduces me to tears but since she totally American Idol'd it I was left more annoyed than moved. ( Luckily I managed to restrain myself and not stand up and beat a tempo on my leg and yell, "knock off the Mariah Carey shit, girl.")  When Laura came up the aisle on the arm of her Dad I flashed back to my own dear Dad taking that walk with me......and I burst into tears.  Bark-like-a-seal tears. Whatever.   Oh yes, do let me report that  Nashville had RECORD HIGH TEMPS the entire weekend and the reception was not air-conditioned.  Jeebus.  We survived, it was wonderful fun and we all had a fabulous time.  Nashville is a blast - I highly recommend a visit but do it in October or November.....

Mother's Day 101 Redux

It's that time again.

I said it once and it bears repeating.   As a reminder, "Mothers Day 101" - check it out.

1-800-RATIONALIZE

With the multi-whammy of additional, unexpected income taxes due, an expensive major appliance "shitting the bed" (Joe's favorite saying and I've just picked it up because....it's so.... accurate), finding out the source of my knee problems is a torn meniscus and the upcoming one year anniversary of the loss of my Dad all rolling up on me.........well, I kind of had a meltdown. "Kind of" in the sense that I didn't actually throw anything (hey, I've grown. Besides, I don't wear high heels anymore and I'm out of spackle) but everything else cut loose in a peri-menopausal-chronic-pain-grieving-hormonal rage of tears, angst and depression.  My dark Irish side can throw down with the best of 'em.

So what to do?  I needed to drive.  Serious "get out of Dodge" driving. That isn't possible here because it's too congested and populated. No wide open spaces and long reaches of road and open sky.  This therapy always worked for me when I lived in Nebraska but in Massachusetts - well, it's not happening.  I still wanted to make a road trip and maybe do a little retail therapy ( a logical response to a cash-strapped crisis, right?) and pick up some Kaffe Fassett fabric I've been coveting for, oh, years.  Seriously coveting.

[caption id="attachment_2521" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="I did not buy ALL of these....just some...."][/caption]

Normally I would call my sister Pat before embarkation. Pat is the queen of rationalization.  You can call her and ask her about anything  and she will give you really good reasons to 1) do it or 2) buy it.  What I came up with would pale in comparison but I think it was pretty respectable in a dark, depressive kind of way.

Mother's Day is approaching.  I was not blessed with motherhood and my mother has been gone many years but I'm still pissed off.  She was 69. Pancreatic cancer.  (Insert "f" word here....)  Those of us with infertility and failed adoption issues have always found MD to be a trauma-inducing "holiday" that personally guts me like a fish.  When life gives you lemons, make lemonade - right?  I started thinking about all the MD presents I've never received, all the cards and flowers and - well, that adds up to some serious cash, right? So, feeling sorry for myself, I felt free to go ahead and spend a little of what my husband and/or kids would have spent.  Bingo - rationalized.

I had a lovely time at Portsmouth Fabric getting overwhelmed by bolts and bolts of amazingly beautiful fabric.  That alone made me feel better. Quilters will understand how that works.  I even had some laughs with the staff as a siren kept sounding in the distance and we couldn't figure out what it was until some guy stuck his head inside the door and said, "I think that is the siren from Seabrook!"  (Local nuclear power plant. I am not kidding.)  I stood there and thought about where I was and if there was indeed a core meltdown I'd be dead pretty fast.  Then I kept shopping.  What better place to be?  My husband and family all know I love them - we never separate without saying so - and I'm pretty much right with my Lord.... so I kept shopping and discussing (with the shop ladies) where the nearest bar with the best food was just in case it really was the "end of time" or something. I figured I'd fare pretty well at my judgement if my Mom saw me with a vodka tonic in my hand - she'd claim me in a minute just to have a sip or two. Or three.

Then I drove back home and listened to another podcast from Pray As You Go.  You have got to love the Jebbies, they come up with some really good stuff.  Anyway, I did a lot of thinking, a lot of sorting out and a whole lot of mental housecleaning. When I got home I made a new sign for my sewing room and put a copy of it in my bathroom.



It's out there.  It's all around me.  I have a feeling it would save me a lot of the time I spend worrying - AKA threading beads on a string with no knot at the end. I'm going to find joy every day.  Wish me luck. I need some joy.

PS - here is a great start.  I never watch these things but for some reason I did this one. WOW.

Caine's Arcade

Do-Over

We leave Sunday for a trip to Florida to stay with our friend John. This is a "do-over" trip.   Last year Joe and I made our first ever trip to Florida (we live on the ocean here.....why bother, right?) and about 3 days in to our inaugural experience we got a phone call letting us know my Dad had passed away. John felt terrible and as a special act-of-love-I'm-so-sorry gift he promised us a "do over"  trip this year.

I'm not sure how I feel about going. The specter of last year's trip is kind of lurking out there... but the actual anniversary (thankfully) is a few weeks off.  Don't get me wrong -  I'm thrilled to get out of Dodge, pleased for Joe (who REEEALLLYY needs a break) and I'm even OK with ironing a pile of linen shirts to pack.  I've always found ironing to be very relaxing and therapeutic. What's the problem, then?   I just feel kind of sideways inside.

Physically, I'm ready to go. I splurged on a haircut and matching (we don't call it "coloring") and even managed to get my esthetician  to melt a metric ton of wax and do my eyebrows.  I look positively GIRLY.  Luckily, John is an expert at relaxing and entertaining.  I'll have a really good bloody Mary in my hand within moments of our arrival.  That should help with the mental part, right?

I'm sure it will all come together and be a great week.  Right? Right.

The Lent Thing - Baltimore Style

I was reading back through an old post about Lent when it dawned on me I needed to pull the trigger on this year's Lenten resolutions.  As I explained here  there are 3 things that need to happen: I need to 1) stop doing something, 2) start doing something and 3) something that is kept private. (i.e. I can't give up potato chips and make that the "private" thing because it would become apparent very quickly as I'd be in the police notes pretty fast.)

So why after all these years do I still cling to making Lenten resolutions? For those not familiar with the  Baltimore Catechism, I invite you to look over the following:

[caption id="attachment_2424" align="alignleft" width="193" caption="My Youth Started Here"][/caption]

This is the "beginner" version of the Baltimore Catechism.  Anyone who went through similar formation can still do the rapid-fire answers to questions like, "WHO MADE YOU?" and "WHY DID GOD MAKE YOU?"

After that you graduated to an expanded version, the St. Joseph's Baltimore Catechism.  That contained  more of the same on an expanded basis.  More to memorize.  More to stand up and parrot back to Here-Comes-Sister-Celestine-Riding-On-A-Jellybean.  (Our idea of really giving the nuns a hard time.)

There is something to be said for using rote memorization to train the memory but when I look back at these images I don't feel so much proud of having a well-trained mind as horror at what kind of ideas we were trained with.

[caption id="attachment_2442" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="FYI  Gay People Want to Marry The Person of Their Choice, Too"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2450" align="aligncenter" width="499" caption="GIRLS: REMEMBER YOUR PLACE!"][/caption]

I have a dear friend who is my sherpa guide to hedonistic consumption.  I like to tell him he is "an occasion of sin" because he tempts me towards all kinds of impurities like expensive linens and splurging on gourmet cheeses and wines. My knee-jerk reaction toward what I perceive as excess was based on the following:

[caption id="attachment_2432" align="aligncenter" width="584" caption="Priorities, Beeuches!"][/caption]

Yeah, television is definitely an occasion of sin. "Bonanza" was pretty scandalous. Ed Sullivan?  Don't get me started.  Pure filth.

John would be considered a "BAD COMPANION!"



He's actually a pretty good companion. (We rarely sneak a cigarette.) He's taught me a lot about myself, including that we all deserve to have and enjoy nice things without beating ourselves up about it.

I'm all for a spring housecleaning of the soul but this year feels different. I've been sorting receipts for taxes and am appalled at the number of office visits, doctor visits, etc. that have piled up over the past year, and continue into this year.  My health has really sucked for the past 18 months (BTW, I'd be happy to give up lumbar steroid spinals for Lent) and I never did buy in to that "all pain and suffering can be offered up...will strengthen your faith" BS. So what to do for Lent when I already feel quite full-up with the existing penances in my life? I think I'll flip things and make this Lent a time for feeding my soul instead purging all my "impurities" (like my lust for potato chips).  I'm going to find things that nourish my heart, help me cope with my aches and strengthen my beliefs and values. I'm going to replenish my tool chest of life and faith skills.  While that approach is not in sync with the Baltimore Catechism I believe if I can do that for 40 days I'll come out on the other end as a stronger, better, faith-filled person - and that is what I believe to be the purpose of Lent.

Robot Vomit on Wedding Invitations

You heard me.

"Enlightening" young engaged couples is apparently my lot in life. This happens because 1) my husband owns a stationery and gift shop and 2) I am hyper-vigilant about  the incredible lapse in civility, judgement, maturity, taste, and corresponding oceans of BS made manifest in twenty-first century weddings.

Today's case in point:  QR codes on wedding invitations.  For the uninitiated, QR (Quick Response) codes are a digitally generated, barf-like patches that look like this:

When viewed on a smart phone or android device (with the proper software installed) the device will "beep" and go to a website with more information about the product, project or whatever is being advertised.   Appropriate for some applications involving commerce, but weddings (as commerce related as they have become) are not an appropriate application.

Seriously, people are putting QR codes on their wedding invitations to "help" their guests learn ever so much more about THEIR SPECIAL DAY (TSD). While the average wedding guest already has to endure continuous updates on TSD, it seems to me that the first step is  a review of the invited guests and the whole procedure in general.

Having finished that, let's look at the reality of QR codes.  Any digital innovation is "state of the art" for approximately 15 minutes. Do you really want your wedding invitation to bear the visual equivalent of a leisure suit or Members Only jacket? Aside from looking just plain fugly, the entire concept is in keeping with the dumbing-down of civilized society.  "What do you mean, I have to actually READ something?" Why do I foresee a future when people will receive a wedding e-vite with a QR code or link to 1)RSVP, 2)select a gift from the bridal registry, 3) attend via SKYPE and 4) fart, scratch and go back to watching their movie without breaking a sweat or giving any actual thought to people involved?  Good heavens people, get your heads out of your digital asses already.

Labors of Love - Quilts from the Heart

The Why Quilts Matter post went live today - here is the link!    

February is the month for giving and receiving expressions of love.  Mothers, fathers, friends and dear ones all given love tokens in a variety of shapes, sizes, colors, mediums, and all-important flavors of chocolate.I have always considered quilts to be among the greatest expression of love but only recently have I fully appreciated the depth and scope of their significance. Quilts I made over the past 20 years have been displayed in homes, been unfolded, used, refolded, comforted babies, warmed bodies and family pets, all the time witnessing and absorbing the history of their lives, the growth of their children, the pack-up-and-moves to new cities.
Baby quilts are always a satisfying labor of love. I have a nephew who was so desperately attached to the shredded remnants of his baby quilt and a receiving blanket that he loved to bits (literally) and squeezed them into a ball of shreds. He tucked it up inside his pillowcase (so no one would know) and held on to it well in to his early teens. Mom was insistent the baby quilts she made for her  grandchildren be used and washed, and was keenly pleased to see how long her grandson held on to the quilt she made just for him.
My favorite baby quilt was one made by my mother when Joe and I were newly married and confidently planning a family.  Fate intervened and no babies ever came. The quilt was always in our bedroom, draped over a quilt holder for about 20 years.  When my god-daughter had her first child I decided it was time to let go of that quilt and find it a home with Mom's new great-grandson.  The emotions surrounding the giving and receiving of that quilt cannot be expressed in words.  For me it defined a four-generation gift of love in so many ways, with both a melancholy ache and tears of joy.

Quilts are visual and tactile manifestations of love.  Who hasn't been sick and wrapped up in a quilt and felt just a little bit better, or at least comforted? When missing my Mom overwhelms me I grab a quilt she made and roll myself up, inhale the fabric and trace my finger over her carefully hand quilted stitches, taking to her and feeling a bit of her presence in my needy soul. So many pioneer brides crossed the frontier with a signature quilt packed among her belongings, a physical reminder of home and loved ones she might never see again.  How cherished those quilts must have been even as they were pressed into service warming bodies or blocking sod house drafts and windows with non existent-glass.

[caption id="attachment_2354" align="aligncenter" width="467" caption="A heart Mom made for me, on my design wall."][/caption]

In the late 70’s, when my Grandma Major (Dad’s mother) was in the nursing home, my mother made her a lap quilt out of scraps of our old dresses and pantsuits. We still have the precious keepsake and it was covering Dad the night he left us. While Mom was waiting for him on the other side, a quilt she originally made for his mother was keeping him warm.

The Family Quilt

At both of their funerals the double wedding ring anniversary quilt made by their three daughters covered their caskets with beauty and love.

I invite you to look back over the years and inventory the quilts you have seen, given, been given or were just privileged to see in a show or exhibit. Every one of those quilts matter - every one that you or I or anyone has ever made, regardless of shape, size, color or intricacy.  No such labor of love should be judged anything but the most wonderful gift from the heart. It blesses both the giver and the recipient with the greatest gift of all -- a colorful, tactile and enduring expression of love.  When the flowers have faded and the chocolate a memory, the quilt endures as a lasting and constant assurance of true love. Happy Valentines Day – to you and to all you love.

NOTE:
I was asked to write a guest blog for Why Quilts Matter and the above entry  was the result.  Why Quilts Matter is a scholarly, entertaining and visually stunning DVD. A copy should be in the home of anyone who loves art, color, and beautiful quilts. I do not in any way benefit monetarily from this - I just believe in it, and as one who loves art, color and beautiful quilts I bought two copies and donated one to my local library. Do the same. RESPECT and support for quilting begins with each of us.

To Tree or Not to Tree

Along with the  Feast of the Epiphany comes the time to take down the Christmas decorations, dispose of the tree, and ....wait.

We didn't have a tree.

To be honest we haven't decorated a tree in 10 years. I can remember exactly how long because Mom died mid-November, 2001 and that Christmas kind of came....and went.  I've always loved having a Christmas tree - a REAL tree - as the centerpiece of the house during the season. I have lots of vintage ornaments from the 40's and 50's that are either from Joe's childhood or those I've collected and found.  LOVE them. So why the 10 year drought on Christmas trees?

I have thought about it at great length and cannot come up with a reasonable answer.  We are both tied up at the store most nights through December so  it seems silly to come home exhausted at 9PM, plug in the tree, be awake for another half hour and then unplug the tree, crawl upstairs and fall into bed. This year I wasn't working 2 jobs and was actually home to enjoy the tree in broad daylight....but I still didn't do it.

I'm a little honked about that because thee best time of the year is the week between Christmas and New Year's.  There is a stillness that settles over everything. Joe is home by 5:15PM (heavens!) and we can have meals that are 1) hot and 2) at a normal hour. We settle in with whatever we are reading, watch a movie - just like the normal people do.  It's the best. It's also the time we used to just soak up the tree and the lights and gently mellow in to the whole holiday atmosphere.

That's it.  I think the reason I'm feeling such post-holiday "meh" is because I didn't have that week of peace and simplicity and have not had it in 10 years.  I'm ready to have it back. Earlier today I even thought about buying a tree and setting it up and dragging the ornament box upstairs from the basement. Hell, I'd do it if there was a tree left to be bought. (I even eyeballed the ones out in back  to see if one of those could be surreptitiously cut down and dragged in to the house. What the hell, the election is over and the police won't go out there to stop the mobs of underage teenage drinkers with bonfires, are they gonna mess with a menopausal woman on a quest?) Hmmm. It's a thought.

PS - Don't tell me about fake trees, how "good" they look and how you can't tell the difference.  They don't and I can.  I want the real thing, the fragrance, the dropping needles, the whole ball of wax. This year, this December - I'm going to have it.

UFO to CG

Like any respectable quilter I have a collection of UFO's (unfinished objects) that have cried out for my attention but never quite captured it - but then, if I knew how to finish them they would not be UFO's, right?
On Christmas night we get our little group together for dinner at our friend Tom & Joe's house. (Nothing like an impending Christmas party to light a fire under the UFO cauldron.)  I needed gifts for three ladies who (lucky for me) appreciate hand-made items.   I learned a few things that I thought I would share with you:

1.  Anything - and I mean anything - can be made into a tote bag.

2.  I need to invest in a good walking foot for my Bernina.

Solange, a bona fide French Parisian, was born and raised just outside Paris in a village where her father was mayor. When WW II broke out this graduate of La Sorbonne went to work for the US Intelligence Service and can tell stories that would curl your hair - all in the name of freedom.  I adore this woman. I want to be Solange when I grow up.  She is always incredibly and immaculately dressed, most often in haute couture Chanel she wore (and still fits into) from back in her college years in Paris. (It still looks fabulous.)  For Solange I made a tote bag out of some Michael Miller fabric that was a gift from a friend who went to Paris.  I was going to make a bag for myself but got sidetracked and never got it done.  The fabrics, the colors and the subject matter were a perfect match for Solange, who loved the bag.  This is how it came out:

[caption id="attachment_2281" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Interior bag"][/caption]

Irma was next.  Irma is a pistol, she's an 80-something firecracker who loves being (as she calls herself) our "Jewish Friend" in attendance at our annual Christmas party.  This year Irma brought her mother's Hanukkah menorah and we had a little ceremony where she lit candles and did the blessing. It was sweet.  Irma is also a world-class knitter so I knew she didn't need a tote bag as much as a knitting bag.  I had a few pieces of Sashiko that I finished ages ago and had hanging in my sewing room gathering dust.  I combined them with some bits of a failed Japanese quilt that went south with a bullet (thankfully before I got too far) and made Irma a new knitting bag:

[caption id="attachment_2287" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Ignore the brassy yellow, it's all a deep gold"][/caption]

Last but not least was Kay, Tom's mother.  She is the only "mother" left in our little group, all of the rest of us having lost ours, so she is our group surrogate.  She is a warm and wonderful woman who taught English Literature (what's not to love!) and adores travel.  I had a wall hanging I was making for the kitchen that stalled out and sat in a box for 8 months when I took it out and decided it, too, could become a tote bag.  (See #1 above.)  I am delighted with how it turned out and I think Kay was equally delighted to receive it.  I have, however,  resolved that as much as I adore Japanese fabrics I have a looong way to go before I learn enough about sewing with them to try anything else very soon. (See #2 above.)  Here is Kay's bag:

[caption id="attachment_2290" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Haven't added the black handles yet...."][/caption]

So there you have it - a bunch of UFO's turned in to Christmas gifts.  No patterns, just did it on the fly. I always hesitate to give things I have made myself because I don't think they are quite "gift giving"  caliber but I love all three of these women and I wanted to give them something from my heart, something useful, practical, but with a little whimsy. They were very well received and I feel pretty good about that.  It's nice when giving a gift makes both the giver and the recipient happy, no?

PS - Sorry for the weirdly stacked images, Wordpress is trying to shove them all into the same gallery and I wanted to separate them into their own categories.  Anyone know how to change that?

[caption id="attachment_2291" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Detail - love those YoYo embellishments!"][/caption]

Christmas in the Garment District

We were given the most wonderful Christmas gift from a dear friend - 3 days in Manhattan (last week) to do the Christmas "thing" in the Big Apple.  I have not been to New York in ages and I must say things were different, but mostly in a good way.  It was much cleaner, much more polite (I know!) and had a much heavier police presence.  We had unseasonably warm weather, the kind that continues today and reaaaally harshes my Christmas buzz.  I like snow and at this time of year I want a little frosty.  We won't be able to use the fireplace on Christmas because it will be too warm. How messed up is that?

As for the trip we did the usual touristy things (and a few OMG things) and had a ball.  Joe had never been to the Empire State Building so we timed a late-afternoon visit to avoid the lines. SCORE.  We went right up and had a good look at the most amazing city on earth.  The lobby of the ESB was just restored to it's breathtaking art deco magnificence; it  was like being in a movie.  Rockefeller Center was decked to the 9's and full of skaters, shoppers and tourists. All good things led to lunches and we went full throttle on a few places, including the Stage Deli.  There is nothing like a great NY deli. Bonus - you aren't hungry for a full week afterward. Oy.

[gallery link="file" columns="2"]

The highlight of my trip was breaking my Garment District cherry.  I've wanted to go forever and decided this was the trip. (Note to self - leave the guys at a deli & Lionel Train store while I do my thing.)  I was only able to get to 2 places, B&J Fabrics and Mood Fabrics, but both were fantastic.  I found the most beautiful selection of Liberty of London tana lawns and I treated myself to two of them to be used in a future project that must be found UTTERLY worthy.  The big score came when my good buddy (whose name I can't remember) dove through piles of rolled bolts and helped me secure just the thing for my long-unfulfilled fantasy.  I've always wanted a dressing gown - a circa 1920's fabu thing that you see in movies. (Ashley Judd wore one in DeLovely and it was stunning.)   I have looked for one for years in every brick and mortar and online store I could find.  Even the fabric was impossible to obtain. The closest I came was a place that had a good embroidered faux silk Shantung done in a very passable... polyester. (I'm a champagne girl on a beer budget.)  I'd pretty much given up hope when I found a silk Shantung that was swweeeeet. It is light as air and has the most beautiful (tho impossible to accurately photograph) Nile green color, and since I needed a lot I  managed to negotiate a price I could live with. (I knew being married to a Sicilian would pay off someday. ) Likewise for the satin, which will be used to trim sleeves, pockets and a wide, lovely collar.  Oh sigh.  It really is Christmas! It will probably be next Christmas before I'm swishing around the house wearing it, but by then Joe will have found a proper chaise lounge for Madame to recline upon while she plays upon her iPad.  It could happen.

Black Friday Fail

About three weeks ago I "hit the slide" at work and gave my notice.  I've been juggling 4 different jobs for some time now and the mental and physical toll it has taken has proven to be WAY. TOO. MUCH.  When you find yourself standing at the front door of your house trying to get in using the remote door opener for your car - it's time to step back. When you collapse in tears because it isn't working and you can't figure out how you will get inside your house....well, desperate times call for desperate measures. (PS I've still got a part-time bookkeeping job and I work at my husband's store, so it's not like I'm really free......)

I'm cashing in the 10 hours a week I spent on the road for some sleep and rest. I've had a few days at home to begin the process of uncoiling my tightly wrapped head and body and I have the following observations to make:

1. I can still sleep for hours like a champ.


2. There is an unbelievable amount of CRAP on TV.


3. What the hell is going on with "Black Friday"?

I'll say right up front:  I think stores should be closed on Sundays. Period. With the extended hours and 24 hour openings of most drugstores, there really isn't any urgent reason for stores to be open on Sundays. Seriously. With that in mind, you won't be surprised to hear me bitch about store openings on Thanksgiving. When did it become a matter of life and death for stores to be open ON Thanksgiving Day?  Or at 4am?  or 6AM on Black Friday? Target I think you should be horsewhipped.  Do you hate your employees that much? I'm boycotting you for the foreseeable future.  WalMart? Oh hell,  I stopped shopping at your stores years ago so I'm not wasting my breath acknowledging your existence and continued scorched-earth policies. I really don't get the whole "thing" about getting up early to go shopping but then I'm not a recreational shopper.  For me it's a chore. Besides, I can't think of a single thing that would move my tail out of bed at 4 AM on a cold, dark November morning. Not. A. Single. Thing.

Ever hear that expression, "Money is like manure - you've got to spread it around"? I choose to spread my fertilizer around where I live. Area shops have the most wonderful (and unique) gifts. There is a new toy store that has the coolest things I've ever seen. They also have an art supply store! I'd go nuts in there, but I'd be buying for myself. There are a couple of great locally owned, non-chain coffee shops for when you need to rest and refuel. I'm betting your town has the same kind of deal going but too often people overlook the local shops or take the time to go and see what is there to choose from.   (Most of them haven't set foot in downtown for years and have no accurate clue about what is or isn't available.)  To these people I say, "STUPID. STUPID."  You must have time and money to burn.  Good for you.  I don't.

There is the argument that you'll save money if you go to malls, but I'm concerned with more than that -  I'm looking at the time and effort and the cost of gas it takes to get there.  Spend $10 more for a sweater in town or save $10 and go to the mall.... let's see,  it is a 46 mile round trip, about 3 hours (including driving and shopping), working my way through the crows, waiting in line or ..... for $10 more I'm home in 5 minutes?  Bonus - a local small business owner gets a little help?  For me - that's a no brainer. Win win.

There is a wonderful campaign called Small Business Saturday that encourages people to shop locally once a month.  The impact would be absolutely life changing for your town, your community and your friends.  Support local artists - buy handmade.  Do it often, not just once a month.  Change the world. Tell the big banks to suck it.  OCCUPY MAIN STREET.  Do the right thing, do it as often as you can. Everyone wins and for that we can all give thanks - hopefully from the  peace and quiet of our own snug homes.