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!

 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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.

Unexpected Treasures

The great 1st-time-ever SWAP fun continues.   I'd almost forgotten that I would be the recipient of a swap gift when it arrived yesterday and  I was thrilled. I'd seen sneak previews on the Flickr page and coveted the hell out of the beautiful journal  (done in a fav fabric line) but did not think I'd be the lucky recipient. Squeee! Tammy (from Texas) is another incredibly talented person with a blog and an ESTY shop.  How do these women do it????  I can't even find  my good camera, but the shots below are a peek at Tammy's lovely handiwork.

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BONUS - I also received an exquisite, hand-made ornament from my very talented craftsman-friend at Quiltboxes. (It's the center picture above.) I'm already the proud owner of one of his fantastic QuiltBoxes. It has a place of honor on my dresser (I wrote about it here) and this lovely ornament will probably hang from my pediment mirror because I'm sure as heck not hiding it in a box until next Christmas.

All of the above to say that the most wonderful gifts are those made by human hands.  I'm amazed and awed by the creative talent in the world.   We've lost so much of our humanity by paying for things with money we can't see, downloading books or records we can't actually touch or hold - it makes me feel we are slipping down a hole into a dark, solitary place. There is no finer present than one we can hold and feel and use and sense the good intentions and kindness  (and talent) of the person who made the gift. It adds an entirely new - and spiritually valuable - dimension to the gift.

Swap Performance Anxiety- Part 2: THE REVEAL

My first online swap - a fun thing people do, and quilters (apparently) do a LOT.  I've never had the nerve until this December when a Twitter peep suggested an online swap. (Please review Swap Performance Anxiety - Part I).

So who did I get?  Some nice quilter in the hinterlands who, like me, had never ventured into the swap arena?  Someone who would, like me, be under the radar?

NOPE.

I got a Zombie.  The Happy Zombie, Monica Solorio-Snow, designer of the fabric line Happy Mochi Yum Yum, "heroin" to many quilters.  I was dealt a published fabric designer, pattern designer - you get the drift.  Sweet merciful crap - you can understand what happened in my colon when I read that name and thought, "What the )#(*&)@(#  am I gonna do for her?"

I ended up chickening out and selecting a few Japanese fat quarters, adding some ribbon in her much-loved colors, and embroidering a little wool bird to satisfy my own need to include something "home-made" in the packet.  Then I tucked it into a cloth wine bottle gift bag I'd made ages ago and put it in the mail.  Then I had a drink.

A few days later, the Twitter feed heated up:

She was lovely.  She was warm and real and kind. I felt ridiculous for being so worked up about doing something for someone so accomplished.  One of the best things about people who do what they love is that they know and appreciate things that other people do for them because they know how much time and thought goes into creating things.  I have on more than one occasion  made dinner for a former chef of  Maison Robert in Boston.  When I confessed my anxiety she said, "You'll never know how much I love it when other people cook for me - it's just a joy to sit back, relax and enjoy the meal."

So there.  Let's all just relax.  Let's just, in the immortal words of Paul McCartney, "Let it be." It's so easy at this time of year to get all up in our heads about what we must do, produce, create and provide.  Let it go.  Let it be.  Rejoice in each other - the days we all have together are not as numerous as we'd like to think, the holidays are numbered and do not to be Martha Stewart TV perfect. (Seriously. Besides, she is loaded and she has paid staff. Who wouldn't be fabulous?)

Rule number one: don't sweat the small stuff. 

Rule number two:  it's all small stuff. 

~Robert Eliot

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.

Guaranteed-to-Scare-You Halloween

Want to know the scariest thing about this Halloween? Aging.  I was rummaging through my digital files looking for a good Halloween image to use in a project when I came across this x-ray of my back.  Yup, it's for reals. I had a spinal fusion for scoliosis at 16 and they threw in a Harrington rod for good (straightening) measure. It was state of the art in 1974 but today could easily be featured as a prop in a horror movie.

It's been a rough year.  I've been undergoing spinal injections to remedy pinched nerves and collapsed discs (see the red, non-smiley face) to determine if/when/which/where to approach with a surgical intervention.  This was complicated by a bad fall & a wrist sprain that keeps giving me grief.  (I had 3 separate people tell me, "You should have broken it, it would heal faster.") Roll that all up into a ball and nest it with feuding PMS & menopause and you have some idea of why my romantic 23rd wedding anniversary dinner left me a little weepy.  As we drove home we talked about all the people who filled our house the night before the wedding and how many of them were now missing, waiting for us on the "other side."  As we pulled in to the driveway and got out of the car, I felt that familiar catch of pain in my lower back. Joe immediately caught my arm and walked me up the front steps.  When we got inside I burst into tears and said, "I feel like I'm aging before my own eyes!"  to which Joe replied, "Yeah, with a bullet!"  Thankfully, it broke the tension and I had a good, long laugh. No one can call it like Joe - he's the "glass half full" anchor in my life.

So the treatments continue and we've made  progress to the point where I can actually sit comfortably. I am ready to get back to my sewing soon, even if it's just hand sewing and  making hexagons. I always feel better when I'm at the Bernina, or cutting up new fabric, or whipping a binding on to a quilt.   It feeds my soul, I like the creative process, and it makes me feel like I have accomplished something wonderful. Best of all -  I get to make another baby quilt! My wonderful niece and god-daughter, Katie, is due in the spring.  I like sewing for a new little life.  It puts the whole aging thing into perspective and motivates me to push through the bumps and dips because the  view from the heights is all that much better. Maybe that is the secret to growing old gracefully - as hard as it is to keep patching up the old body, it's worth it a thousand times over when you experience the world with so much wisdom and experience - and love - in your lenses.

August Wool

The dog days of summer are here with a vengeance.  Living so close to the icy Atlantic used to mean an afternoon sea breeze that cooled things off to the point where you had to close a window at night.  Not any more.  I am a climate-change believer.  I used to have at least five or six summer weight cardigans I needed to wear in the evenings out here.  Now I'm slicing the sleeves off old t-shirts to find something cool enough to wear around the house.

In July and August we crank up our trusty R2D2 air conditioner in the family room and I haul down my embroidery floss basket, a tub of wool felt and start  cutting up birds, stars, ornaments and mug rug pads so I can embroider my little projects that I sell locally.  I've set up a corner of the room that now looks like a wooly tornado hit it - complete with splattered bits of color from the bits  of wool and knots of embroidery floss that get snipped off as I work.  I could clean it up every night after a session of sewing, but what is the point?  A sample of works in progress:

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There is always that bit of a re-learning curve that comes with taking up embroidery after a long break.  I fumble around trying to remember old stitches and sometimes invent new ones in the process. I get very frustrated that the work isn't spacing evenly until I hit my rhythm and I'm back in the groove.  Then I wonder why I ever stopped - hand sewing is the most relaxing thing (well, next to a cigarette and a martini but I had to stop  smoking years ago and you really should not #gdas).

BTW, I  highly recommend the "R2D2" style of AC for a single room use.  I've put up heavy (upholstery remnant) curtains in the 2 open doorways to the room so it stays remarkably comfortable.  Joe rigged up a little template so we can tuck the exhaust hose out one of our windows. The only other work is to make sure there is a bucket next to it because it needs to "pee" every 5 hours or so.  (We don't leave it on overnight.)  The water gets taken outside to the porch to water the flowers.  It's a win-win.

I wait until I have a bunch of them finished before I bag and tag them - it's a very gratifying part of the process.  My tag reads "MSQ" as a tribute to my mom who used to make and sell small quilts and table runners at our shop here in Gloucester.  Since her last name was Major, she tagged her products, "Major Stuff Quilts" - hence,  the MSQ on my label.  I like sewing in the evenings while we watch a movie, surf around the DIY channels, or just discuss (and solve) the world's problems.   Joe is always there to bounce ideas off of and give me solid tips on getting the most bang for my embroidery buck.  Best part  -  he really gets it about my sewing, quilting, etc. and that is a remarkably redeeming quality in a partner.

EDIT:  If you were wondering, #gdas is a Twitter  hashmark for a Friday evening TweetChat where spirited, earthy sewing enthusiasts pop a cold one and discuss projects, tips, good food, and whatever else strikes our fancy.  (The name Get Drunk And Sew tells you all you need to know.)

Loving French Knots

Long, long ago (1984) in a state far, far away (Nebraska) I spent the summer embroidering French knots on squares of plain muslin.  I liked the process, I liked hand sewing, and I liked doing it while I looked at the map of Massachusetts tacked up on my wall.  I spent the summer making knots and thinking about my new life to come,  waiting for Labor Day weekend to arrive and my big move to Boston.

The finished muslin squares were put away and forgotten about for a long time.  When Mom and Dad flew out for our wedding in 1988, Mom found the squares in my sewing room and chastised me for letting them gather dust.  I never thought about it again until 1989, when this arrived on my doorstep:

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You could have knocked me over with a feather.   This was the quilt responsible for me getting in to quilting myself - I didn't think I was capable of creating something that could wind up (with a LOT OF HELP) this substantial.  The label is one of Mom's typical gems - done in left handed calligraphy:  " Candlewicking: by Joan Ciolino, Gloucester Mass. Quilt: by her  Mother, Mary Ann Major, Lexington, Nebraska. 1989."   How absolutely wonderful is that?

We use the quilt mostly in the fall but when we put it on our bed we have to put it face down - dragging your arm across those bumps in the middle of the night is not a pleasant experience.  It still serves a useful purpose, and the other months it hangs beautifully on our bedroom quilt rack. The colors are dated,  the whole thing is tired from many uses and washings, but it's the only thing my Mom and I made together.   In short, it's exactly what a quilt should be.

Check out this new site:  We Love French Knots.  It promises to be an interesting and informative place to learn how to create beautiful heirlooms.  As the weather gets hotter here in Gloucester, I find myself needing portable hand sewing projects I can take to our family room where trusty R2D2 (the mobile AC) makes my life bearable.  Happy 4th of July - I met my husband 24 years ago today.  He REALLY makes my life bearable....

Bridal Etiquette and the Lack Thereof

It has been a while since my earlier installment of wedding and guest advice/etiquette.  I am reminded of this because as I wound my way around Gloucester's beautiful back shore this morning  I saw some of the hotels setting up those tell-tale white wedding chairs on the front lawn.  I felt sorry for all the people who had to spend the money to schelp to Gloucester only to find out that much of their holiday weekend would be spent not sitting on a beautiful beach, but  sweltering through yet another insufferably long and self-absorbed couple's wedding.

We used to do a booming business in printing formal wedding invitations at my husband's gift shop.  Now people do them on their computers.... you know, the same way you  would for a 3rd grader's birthday party.  As a 22 year veteran of marriage and about 20 years in business working with bridal invitations, I will take up my magic wand, put on my etiquette tiara and bestow some wisdom on engaged couples.

"Why do I have to have printed invitations?  Why can't I do them on my computer - people just throw them away anyway.  Besides,  an e-invite is greener and we really believe in that."

If you are sending invitations to people who are immediately throwing them in the trash you should probably not have invited them to your wedding in the first place, just sayin'.  Also - can you use that same argument about what to feed them?  After all, they are just going to poop it away the next day, so why spend the money on something delicious? Email invitations are lovely - if your guests like helping out Nigerian millionaires or need to buy prescriptions drugs in Mexico, because an emailed wedding invitation should go right in to the spam file.

We have been together for a long time and we just want money for wedding gifts.  How do we put that on the invitation, or let people know?

Send them an invoice.

My mom and my future mother-in-law don't want to wear (insert color here) for the wedding.  I have tried to tell them how important this is, but they say  they look terrible in that color and want to choose their dresses themselves. It's MY wedding and they should wear what I want them to wear, right?

No.   Google the earthquake in Japan, look at some pictures of starving children, check out the situation in Darfur. Those are real problems. These are grown women who are perfectly capable of dressing themselves and have done it for years. Shut up already.

Some of my bridesmaids need to lose some weight - and one of them has a bad dye job.  What is the best way to tell them what I need them to do to get ready for my wedding?

Tell them whatever you like, but follow it up with, "And I promise to get my tubes tied and never reproduce."  Knowing that the BS will die with you will help them grit their teeth and push through the day.

Do I have to write thank you notes?  I am very busy and my boyfriend absolutely refuses to help!

No, you do not have to write thank-you notes. Seriously.  Just return all the gifts. Problem solved!

Okay, but I want the gifts.  How about those pre-printed notes that say something lovely like, "Thank you for sharing our special day - Love  X and X " ?

Nice. Really? Nothing says "screw you" like a form letter. 

We want to have a really lovely dinner for our reception and we're a little nervous that people won't know how much to give to make sure the cost is covered. 

Okay, once again - send them an invoice.  Better yet,  contemplate the proper definition of "guest" and realize the dinner is your gift to them.  While I have your attention, whatever they choose to give you is their gift to you.  You will receive some lovely things, some not-so-lovely things.  The mark of maturity and true love is to acknowledge them with equal enthusiasm and grace.

Okay, that's enough for today.  I am fatigued by answering questions that have no place in civilized society.  Let's all work together to return to the days when weddings were a joyful occasion for everyone involved, m'kay?  Next time we'll talk about leaving your guests waiting for 3 hours while you go take your stupid pictures and show up at the reception half in the tank.

I Need A Genie

When I was a kid I loved watching I Dream of Jeannie  because I thought it would be so COOL to be able to BLINK BLINK and the housework would be done, BLINK BLINK and the laundry, cooking, etc. would all be finished in a flash.  Even then I knew that Jeannie was a dumb broad if she thought the way to Major Nelson's heart was doing the vacuuming and cooking all by herself.  Everyone knows the  real way to a man's heart, and it is NOT by being an immaculate housekeeper, just sayin'.

Instead of enjoying my new fabrics and my Alabama Beauty  INKLINGO patterns  I have spent the last week-plus  cleaning my BUNS off.  I've thrown out, de-cluttered, smuggled bags out of the house for Goodwill (my husband still has his original diapers....) and spent today balancing on a chair cutting the trim in and around the bathroom cabinets, mirror, tub and closet.  There must be 9 miles of trim in that bathroom. Normally I love to paint, but my husband got a hold of my (yes, MY) cutting brushes and wrecked my favorite one, leaving me with a sub-standard brush to cut 9 miles of trim (French Linen Gray, BTW) in this bathroom. (Note: If anyone from Pittsburgh Paints is reading this, you guys have GOT to get your act together.  This stuff is not covering well and frankly, it's a little drippy.  I used to love you guys but I have 3 rooms that need paint and this is the last gallon of P.P. that is going up in my house for a long time.)

I guess this would all be okay if MY relatives  were coming to visit ( hell, I'd make them paint ) but it is HIS cousins.  We haven't seen these people since our wedding almost 23 years ago so I'm not sure what we will be talking about, but there you go. They are coming for a 4 day festival that I avoid like the plague.  St. Peter's Fiesta used to be a lovely novena-based celebration of faith that culminated in the blessing of the fishing fleet and some fiercely good Sicilian cooking.  It has degenerated into a 5 day drunk complete with a sleazy carnival and a baby boom 9 months from now when all the babies will be named "Peter".  It saddens me to see something that was once so beautiful become such a nightmare.  Note to Gloucester Italians:  "Fiesta" is not even a word not found in your language. Be authentic - your grandparents and great-grandparents had the right idea.

I need to get back to cleaning.  Sometimes you just need impending house guests  to light a fire underneath your slovenly self and git 'er done.  Joe will be handling the cleaning of all the floors, including the Chernobyl-like kitchen floor that is original to the 1975 house.  An uglier floor never lived.  These folks are arriving on Thursday and leaving on Monday morning.  I'm following them out the driveway and heading downtown to the flooring store where I will put a blindfold over my eyes, swing a cat and whatever it lands on is the new kitchen floor.   BLINK BLINK.  I'm on a roll.