Town and Country Mom

Imbalanced

2012-02-27T23:48:00.001-05:00

I wish I had something great to write, dear Readers.

I write so many posts in my head, mostly while I'm driving. (At least, I'm not texting, right?)

Somehow, real life and a real job writing (even if it is kind of a writers' sweatshop) seems to edge out this place where writing is free and tamed only by my own self copy editing and your (mostly) kind comments.

Real life--lacrosse games for one, drama practice for another, and "could you put some money in my account?" for the other one--seems to take up a good bit of non-working time. And, I decided to read more.

And, I cleaned out our closet--organized it, actually.

The Mister built some really fine shelves, and I had a ball styling those. I'm terrible about remembering to take "before and after" pictures, but you would be impressed. Oh, there's other stuff, too--a little cooking, Downton Abbey, a new eyelining technique for women over 50--but, mostly there's the writing for work and the not writing for fun.

And, the not writing is not working.

2012-02-13T14:17:00.000-05:00

Is it just me? Do people decorate for Valentine’s Day? Well, I do. Not in the my-house-looks-like-a-retail-store kind of way, but more with a heart here and a dash of red there—and as the day draws closer with a little sprinkling of chocolate. Love—romantic and other kinds, too—seems worthy of celebration, especially in the bleak mid-winter.

Some will craft clever cards with paper and stamps, while others will make elaborate cookies and candies. Still others will don something sparkly and sip something bubbly. Most likely, I’ll dabble in all of the aforementioned, but mostly I’ll decorate.
A little red heart on the chest in the living room adds a touch of love.Rosebuds and ribbon serve the same purpose in the family room.And a little needlepoint hanger on the clock reminds one that it’s never too late to love.Handmade hearts from my littlest Valentines brighten up the kitchen, where nothin’ says lovin’ like well, you know. And 16-year-old wax paper and crayon hearts spread the love to the sitting area nearby.When we honeymooned at The Balsams, we found a stone fireplace in a lakeside cabin. Engraved in the granite mantel were the words, I CANNOT WARM YOU IF YOUR HEART BE COLD, which the Mister continues to quote to this day. So, to remember The Balsams and our wonderful time there, a red construction paper chain and a berry wreath.Finally, keeping all three children’s preschool and grade school artwork wasn’t realistic, but tossing out handmade Valentines was impossible. I love them.
For sentimental reasons.

How do you celebrate Valentine’s Day?

2012-01-19T22:28:00.000-05:00

You might remember that I wrote about a new editorial job here. Yes, I like it. I like it a lot. The first few weeks my brain hurt at the end of every day. I told the Mister it was like waking up and going to an office and doing the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle every day. Challenging. Enriching. But, difficult. The option to quit puzzling or set it aside was not forthcoming. New day, new puzzle.

My writing background is mostly print. I remember walking with what were then called "bluelines" to a department called typesetting. And this was when I worked for a very young, hip company. I don't think I owned a computer until I was 38, maybe. Today I work with people who have never not owned a computer; people who think in html. People who think email is archaic. You don't even want to know what they think about newspapers. I mean, and as Dave Barry would say I am not making this up, the woman across the hall from me has a poster of Justin Bieber on her door. And, I think Justin Bieber himself may have the office next to her, or maybe it's just someone who looks like him. That's probably it. I digress. Listening to State of Trance radio will do that to you; it will also make you stay on task, apparently.

I started November 1. Just before Thanksgiving I was asked if I'd be interested in taking on an additional project. Honestly, how could I say no? I mean, for one thing, I was new. New employees don't turn down projects. Secondly, it meant more money. Again, not really something people turn down. Finally, it was promised to be "quick turnaround." Silly, silly me. You see, I had forgotten that "quick turnaround," which sounds like it means "short and sweet" actually translates to "crushing deadline." It means late nights, early mornings, staying in when you want to go out. It means my family says things like "Spaghetti again?" and I say things like "Look in the dryer!"

But, kids, I'm here to tell you. I. made. it. I made it! With 18 hours to spare! And tomorrow the Mister and I are meeting some friends in the mountains.

And there will be this,

and this,

and this.

And even this.

And there will be no internet, and I will not succumb to the 3G sirens.

Then, when I return, I plan to focus some attention on this little blogging outlet of mine, and I would love to know what you'd like to hear more about. Would you do that favor for me?

Paper or plastic?

2012-01-11T23:57:00.000-05:00

I guess I'm what is known as a "late adapter."

I got this for Christmas. And I love it.

I really do. Epicurious. Urban Spoon. Gratitude. Pinterest. All at my fingertips. Not to mention news, weather, grades, music. I re-watched the last episode of Downton Abbey while Little had her piano lesson. How could you not love that?

But, a couple of years ago I got this for Christmas.

And I love it, too. In fact, I just like saying Filofax, although I don't really say it out loud ever. Today I finally got around to buying my 2012 calendar re-fill. I can't wait to take a black Uniball micro pen to that creamy, thick paper.

I've been known to sketch a floorplan or an outfit or a desktop arrangement on that lined paper.

But, of course, I'll never watch Downton Abbey on it.

Paper or plastic? I say it's not either-or. For me, it's both-and. What about you?

On the tenth day of Christmas . . .

2012-01-03T21:54:00.001-05:00

Oh, I know what some of you are thinking! Christmas? Please! That’s so 2011. Yes, I know it’s a new year, and the blogging world has in large part moved onto goals and resolutions and organizational tips. After all, most everyone is back to work or back to school. Me, I’m just coming up for air after working hard to meet several work deadlines that relentlessly came just before and after Christmas Day. Still, we managed to have a wonderful holiday, and although the decorations are packed and the thank-you notes are in the mail, we’re still celebrating and looking forward to a fabulous Twelfth Night party on January 6th. I’m sure I’ll post about that, but in the meantime, here’s a look at our holiday.

We spent the weekend before Christmas in sunny Florida, where the Mister, Middle, and Niece 3 enjoyed a nip of nog in the Mister’s parents’ log house. (Yes, the Mister’s wearing mouse ears. No, the eggnog wasn’t spiked.)

The Mister’s handsome dad enjoyed a nip of something else as we waited to see the beautiful Candlelight Processional at Epcot in Walt Disney World. The night we attended Broadway legend Chita Rivera read the story of the birth of Christ, and she was wonderful. The cast member and guest choirs joined with the Voices of Liberty to present the story in hymns and sacred carols with superb orchestral accompaniment. Attending “Candlelight” was an annual tradition when we lived in central Florida, and we were so happy to be able to return, taking the Mister’s folks for a couple of days in the park.

Little was pleased to see that she had the same size handprint as one of her favorite actresses.Middle was relieved to see that at least one other being on the planet has a larger foot than he does! Seems like old times—Big, Middle, and Little together at Disney. This was as close as I got to antiquing on this trip, which—let me tell you—was not very close! Still, I was grateful not to be stuck in our hotel room at Riverside, writing and editing like a fiend. Once home, we made cookies for Santa.

We went to church on Christmas Eve. And these three little cherubs read the Gospel story of the birth of Jesus. The church was packed—maybe about 1,200 worshippers—but no one seemed nervous reading.We wrapped presents, although some of them may not have been tagged. Personally, I think it adds to the excitement as everyone waits on me to remember whose gift is whose.

Our tradition has always been that the children wait at the top of the stairs until they hear the sleigh bells ring. Then they can come downstairs and open their stockings. This gives the Mister and me a chance to make the coffee, light the tree and the fire, put the breakfast treats in the oven, and make sure we have a camera handy. This year my dad joined them in their stair top waiting.

Stockings hold Clementines, chocolate, and generally some pretty good stuff. (Middle is not mad; he’s just determined to intentionally ruin every picture I take. He’s pretty good at it, too)

In fact, this may be the best shot I got of him this year!We don’t dress on Christmas morning, although this picture makes me want to ask Santa for a little turkey neck tuck. And all that plaid—yikes!

Clearly, we had a little clean-up to do, but for once, I did not immediately turn into sergeant-martyr mom, and just let things be. For a bit.Sausage egg casserole, biscuits, and sectioned citrus were pretty tasty. We always do crackers at Christmas breakfast. (See how beautifully Middle is ruining this picture?)

We had a fabulous Christmas dinner, if I do say so myself—rib roast, creamed spinach, roasted grape tomatoes, and garlic mashed potatoes. I didn’t take any pictures until I served dessert, red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.

A few hours after dinner, we somehow managed to roll ourselves to our dear friends the R’s home for another dessert! It’s our Christmas tradition to visit their beautiful home on Christmas night, and it is always great fun. This year their lovely daughter remembered when she was taller than both her pals—but not any more. And for dessert?

She just whipped up some Grand Marnier creme brulee.

And that’s how we celebrated Christmas Day.

Reduce, Reuse, Re-wreath

2011-12-14T01:12:00.001-05:00

Thanks for all the birthday wishes! I have decided I am kicking off the Year of Jubilee as I begin to celebrate the big 50. Crow's feet shall henceforth be known as laugh lines; and aches and pains attributed to a well-spent youth. I will continue to color and highlight my hair, whiten my teeth, pass on the simple carbs, and walk as much as I can, but I've come to terms with the fact that no one is going to mistake me for a young woman. And that's okay, I had my time to sparkle; now it's my time to glow.

I still like a little sparkle around the house, however. (And on my ears, occasionally, of course.) And, surely, everyone who's 50 has learned that there is no sense in wasting time re-inventing the wheel, or wreath, in this case. The wreaths at the T and C House were looking a little care worn.

It was time for an update, but I wasn't sure what I wanted. For years, I've been a stickler--green wreaths, red bows, white candles. Maybe, just maybe, you could still be a respectable person if you used plaid bows. Gold? Clearly, a person that would decorate outside with gold bows, well, I don't think I have to tell you what's going on inside that house! Why, it's probably just full of things like boxed cake mixes and People magazines and paper napkins! (Clearly, I cannot have coffee after four in the afternoon. None of this will be funny in the morning.) Live greens are great, but in our weather, they tend to look a little worse for wear after a week or two. A wide range of good-looking faux greens are available, but I wasn't sure what I wanted--white pine, mixed evergreens, boxwood? (Well, actually, I wanted boxwood, but the preserved boxwood doesn't last more than one season, and the plastic boxwood doesn't hold up that well either. And I don't have enough real boxwood to make a single fresh wreath, and I need nine!) And then, I happened to click on one of my favorite blogs Abnormally Normal, where the hilarious Mom on the Run had decided to be a little crafty. She took her inspiration from the ubiquitous Pottery Barn, and I took mine from her.

So, after a quick stop at Target, I was in business transforming my scraggly greens into shiny red and silver-enhanced wreaths. They still need to be replaced, but for about $20 spent on shatterproof ornaments and three hours of my time, I was able to keep them looking good for at least one more season.

I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere, but I'm not going to think about that right now.

It's time to apply my wrinkle cream.

I Pine for You

2011-12-07T23:36:00.001-05:00

I pine for you and balsam, too! Have you seen that corny saying before? I remember when as a child the light bulb came on, and I finally understood the sentiment I had seen stitched on the tiny sachets of fir needles sold in tourist traps from North Carolina to Maine. Although I can’t say I’ve “bawled” about it, I have pined for the scent of fresh-cut greens each Christmas season.Every year, the Mister and I and the children have had at least one Frasier fir in our house for the holidays. The past several years, we’ve made a quick day trip to Cedar Mountain, North Carolina, to cut our tree ourselves. It’s hard to get fresher than that, right? Once home, the Mister always slices an inch or two off the bottom of the trunk before plunging the tree in water. He trims it a bit here and there, and I bring the trimmings inside to put in bowls and various containers throughout the house. Of course, I love how the fresh greens look, but it is that crisp evergreen fragrance that I hope to capture. Never happens. Until now, that is. Yes, this year, our house finally has the clean scent of pine thanks to Thymes Frasier Fir diffuser. Last year, someone gave me a small Frasier Fir candle, and I enjoyed it so much, burning it dangerously low. This year I decided to try the Thymes diffuser, and I could not be more pleased. I’m pretty particular about scents; I really can’t bear anything cloying or harsh. The Thymes products are not inexpensive, but I definitely think they are worth the cost. You can see all the options here.

I chose the pinecone style diffuser pictured above, which is perfectly unobtrusive tucked behind a lamp on a living room side table. I love coming downstairs in the morning or walking into the house after a long day to be greeted by such a fresh, Christmas-y fragrance!

I have received no compensation for this post, just the pleasure of sharing my find.

Be sure to read all about Reggie Darling’s favorite potpourri here. I can’t wait to try it! Do you have a favorite Christmas scent?

A Thing or Two

2011-12-05T00:17:00.000-05:00

There's no denying it now. In one week--one week!--I will turn 50. No matter what kind of care I have or haven't taken of myself, no matter how strong or weak the gene pool from which I sprang, I think it's safe to say I've reached midlife. Really. I just don't see myself going on past 100.

And yet, I still have some dreams and goals to accomplish, which means the next 20 or 30 years are chock full of potential. The bad news, of course, is that as we age (oh, yes, it pains me to say it), certain things decline or diminish. Memory, for instance.

In 50 years, I've learned a thing or two. And my intent is to write some of those tidbits down this week. I want to be able to re-read them in case I can't remember them later. If any of them are of help to you, dear readers, then so much the better. For those of you in the "ohmygosh I can't even imagine turning (shudder) 50" camp, let me just say neither could I. For those of you who have blazed the trail already, I offer a million thanks for your generosity in sharing a slice of your journey. And now, a thing or two.

An hour of sleep before midnight is worth two afterward. The corollary of this is that a productive hour before 7 am is worth two later in the day.

Drugstore make-up really is just as good as department store make-up. Almost always.

Expensive hair products, on the other hand, are usually really better.

Don't skimp on towels, sheets, or toilet paper.

Most people, including your spouse most of the time, usually just want to hear the bullet points. Only one or two dear friends want the whole narrative.

Expecting someone, especially a man, to read your mind is an unrealistic expectation. To pout or punish him when he is unable to do the impossible sets up a most unsatisfying cycle of disappointment. Communicating clearly and kindly will enhance your relationship far more.

No one can remember everyone's name. Avoid the awkwardness. Apologize for forgetting a name, and re-introduce yourself right away.

That's all for tonight. More to come.

The longest post ever!

2011-12-03T12:28:00.001-05:00

So, here we are, another December. Hard to believe. My posts here have been far fewer than I would like, but, of course, real life takes precedence.

Part of my motivation for blogging has been to create some sort of journal or diary, really just for my own benefit, so with that in mind, please bear with me in this long, long post as I recount a few highlights of this fall.

Everyone at the T&C house enjoyed another smashing Spirit Week. (You can read our community’s history of this terrific tradition here.) We painted to raise money. Of course, I got to drink wine and talk with other moms while creating this, um, masterpiece, which now proudly hangs in our garage! We met friends and ate barbecue to raise money.One of us even dressed up every day to raise money. (Really, you haven’t lived until you’ve stood in the women’s section of the local Good Will and had to convince your 6’2” son that he couldn’t fit a size 4 skirt, that he was a solid 14. Thankfully the so-called “Gender Bender” day occurs only once a year!)And, when this crazy week was over, and the totals were announced at half-time of the Big Game, our high school students had raised more than $140,000 in a week’s time! That’s a lot of car washes, silent auctions, and class calls, my friends! The money was donated to the local Ronald McDonald House and to St. Anthony’s school for inner city kids.

School spirit continued to soar as we celebrated Clemson’s Homecoming. (Yes, this was back when our season looked so promising. Happily, we did pull out the ACC championship!) I guess you could say we were looking through Tiger-colored glasses!One of Clemson’s homecoming traditions is gigantic displays of school spirit on Bowman Field. Most of the displays are made by the fraternities. One of my favorites this year was this pair of Wayfarer’s, depicting historic Tillman Hall on the inside and the notoriously loud Death Valley on the outside.Big, Middle, and Little enjoyed a little sibling rough-housing outside Big’s apartment building while we readied the food for our tailgate. All the usual Southern tailgate staples were there—deviled eggs, baked beans, slaw, pumpkin cookies, Tiger cupcakes . . . But the piece de resistance was the pulled pork barbecue made by Mr. D. on the smoker he built himself! I probably don’t have to tell you that he’s a Clemson engineer. Plenty of co-eds and former co-eds stopped by to partake! Even a rogue Auburn Tiger was welcomed into the huddle!Good food and cute girls brought the guys around, too, although they seemed to sleep in later than the girls!

Somehow in this hectic fall, the Mister and I slipped away to Asheville to celebrate our wedding anniversary. Seventeen years. We had a delightful long lunch in Biltmore Village and spent the afternoon antiquing and talking without interruption!Not intending to buy a single thing, we ended up finding this black leather chair, which needed a minor repair. Happily, we know the owner of a crackerjack leather shop, so we texted a photo and asked, “Should we?” Get it was the emphatic reply; the price was unbelievably good! Imagine my delight upon returning home to learn that furniture is the traditional gift for the 17th anniversary.

Are you bored, yet? I told you this was a lonnnnng post!

Apple-picking is a fall tradition for us. Sky Top Orchard in Flat Rock, North Carolina, used to be our “secret.” Turns out that a little publicity over 16 years can make a place famous, bordering on becoming a victim of its own success. Of course, now they have doughnuts, both apple and pumpkin. “Wait, Mom. Seriously, you thought we’d take some home with us? That’s funny.”The doughnut eaters compare a South Carolina driver’s license to a recently issued permit.The Mister and me and enough for a pie.

Lastly, I’ll leave you with a few shots from the Big Apple and my early birthday celebration. C, E, and B, ready to board.Lilies in the lobby of the Hotel Elysee, which we would all highly recommend as a great choice for a place to stay. The sitting room of our suite on the 8th floor.Our first stop was the MoMA, where E checks out a Georges Braque painting. E and I turned out to be the museum rats this trip.One of my favorite NYC views, looking into the MoMA Sculpture Garden. We were a bit surprised to see so many leaves still on the trees in mid-November. The Elysee offers a delightful wine and cheese hour every weekday afternoon. Birthday girls drink champagne when offered.Our view of 54th Street.One of my great aunts lived in this building from about 1950 until about 1990, when my dad brought her home to Tennessee for her last days. Another great aunt lived for years at East 57th Street, but regrettably I didn’t get a photo of her building.

We had a leeetle shopping success at the Carlisle outlet. One of us, who for her own protection cannot be identified, is now a member of the Executive Club.To restore our strength, we succumbed to a fine pasta lunch at Serafina’s. And, it’s a good thing we did. Shopping the Veteran’s Day shoe sales can be exhausting! Fresh air and sunshine were the order of the next day, so we strolled through Central Park. We were blessed by an unexpected Gospel concert with fabulous acoustics. I showed off my DaniBP-inspired color story. Once at the JKO reservoir, we popped back out to Fifth Avenue and headed for the Guggenheim. Of course, I had to pay homage to Mr. and Mrs. Pimm and Lyle the Crocodile as we passed by East 88th Street.

We spent several hours in the Guggenheim and the Met, and then set off on a leisurely stroll (or death march, depending on your perspective) that evening back toward Midtown and a delicious dinner at Montebello’s. Of course, en route, we had to stop in the Lily store, where frocks were purchased for the Lily-lovin’ daughters left at home. Maybe next time, girls!The next morning found us enjoying breakfast in the library at the Elysee, before heading out to Redeemer Presbyterian’s morning service, where we were delighted by the music, the fellowship, and the message of the inimitable Tim Keller. When the service opened inviting the congregation to meditate on this C. S. Lewis quote, I knew we were meant to be there.

“In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity; I want other lights than my own to show all his facets. Now that Charles is dead, I shall never again see Ronald’s [Tolkien’s] reaction to a specifically Charles joke. Far from having more of Ronald, having him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald…In this, Friendship exhibits a glorious “nearness by resemblance” to heaven itself where the very multitude of the blessed (which no man can number) increases the fruition which each of us has of God. For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest.

Cheers to my friends, each of whom makes me richer and more blessed in countless ways!

And, so, (yes, I’m still going), the T&C Household had much to be thankful for on Thanksgiving. Now, as I said words and words ago, the above events were the highlights of our fall. Rest assured there were misunderstandings and cross words, a few frozen pizzas, the learning curve (steep) of my new job, leaking garbage bags, papers turned in late, vapid conversations, stopped-up toilets, misplaced jackets, and all the rest of it. That’s just life.

I say learn from the worst, and choose to remember the best. How about you?

Happy Thanksgiving!

2011-11-24T00:00:00.001-05:00

Doris Lee
Thanksgiving Dinner
c. 1935
Art Institute of Chicago

Jack Pot!

2011-11-07T17:38:00.001-05:00

The Mister and I have a couple of causes that we believe in deeply and have made a commitment to support financially. We’re not “heavy hitters,” by any means, but we try to be generous with what we have. It’s hard these days, so many needs, so many worthwhile charities—no one—or very few can support them all. Still, when I have a few extra dollars, I pitch it in the bucket or buy a box of cookies. Fund-raising is tough, whether it’s done at galas in grand museums or in citrus sales for the high school band. American Museum of Natural History gala, NYC

Earlier this fall, I made a five dollar donation to a local charity and was automatically entered in a drawing for some cookware.

Turns out, I won a beautiful Le Creuset 5.5 quart French oven! I hope you all have a wonderful surprise this week!

If you cook with Le Creuset, please share some tips and recipes with me! This is my first piece!

Yes to November

2011-11-01T23:08:00.001-04:00

How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days. ~John Burroughs Well, kids, the leaves aren’t the only things growing older ‘round here. Yes, T&C Mom soon will be heralding a milestone birthday—41 days and counting. Oh, I hardly think I’m entering my “last days,” but I am still aiming for every day left—no matter how many there are—to be full of light and color. To that end, I started a new job today. If you are a regular reader, then you might be thinking, didn’t she start a new job this summer? Well, yes, I did, and although I enjoyed it, when an opportunity to take an editorial position presented itself, I jumped! I’ve been freelancing off and on for almost 20 years, and I honestly thought that I was too old and the economy was too tough for me to be offered a serious position. Happily, I was wrong! God provided a wonderful opportunity for me with a growing company, and I am so grateful. I’ll be doing something I love, and, unbelievably, I will work from home three days a week and in the office two. Everyone in the T&C house is pretty happy about that! November, slandered as drear and gloomy by far too many poets, also marks a 23-pound weight loss for me. I’m rather tall, so it’s not a shocking transformation, but I feel great and optimistic as I enter my new decade.

And to start the celebration a wee bit early, three friends and I are heading to New York for a fabulous long weekend! We are all excited as a girls’ weekend is long overdue! And to make sure that I’m looking my best, the winsome Dani BP has created one of her famous color stories just for me! You can read about it here! If you don’t know Dani’s blog, you must become acquainted. She writes beautifully and without pretension about style, travel, cooking, and housekeeping. She inspires me with every post!

What inspires you? How do you bring light and color into your life?

From the Archives: Will You Walk Into My Parlor?

2011-10-31T00:00:00.001-04:00

So begins the charming and slightly spooky poem “The Spider and the Fly,” published by British author Mary Howitt (1799-1888) in 1829. After offering such an innocent-sounding invitation, the crafty spider goes on to tell the fly that hers is the “prettiest little parlor that you ever did spy.” Although I’m certain that my parlor is not the prettiest, I do, like Miss Spider, “have many curious things to show when you are there."
Collecting Halloween ephemera is not something I set out to do. Because of my Christian faith, I’m far more inspired and interested in celebrating Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. Beyond carving a Jack O’Lantern, decorating for Halloween is kind of new to me. It all started years ago when I was sorting through some family Christmas ornaments, and I came across these tin noisemakers that had been my mother’s when she was a girl in the 1940s. Called clickers or crickets, these party favors actually make a loud, hollow pop! I instantly loved them because of the great graphics and because they had been my mother’s.

After a little research, I found that they most likely were manufactured by the Kirchhof Company of New Jersey. The firm also produced Braille printers and ticker-tape machines. Kirchhof entered the holiday market initially by making Christmas tree candle holders, then noisemakers. Kirchhof is thought to have supplied American soldiers with the crickets (clickers) used at the World War II Invasion of Normandy. Clickers were used by Allied paratroopers as a way of identifying friend from foe. A soldier would click once, and if two clicks were received in return from an unidentifiable soldier then his identification was confirmed. But, I digress.

Of course, my clickers had to be displayed, but since they were small, I needed to provide a setting for them. Naturally, papier mache Jack O’Lanterns provided the perfect background. In an earlier post about fall decorating, Falling Into Place, I mentioned a few of my self-imposed decorating rules. Let me just say, I realize I’m on mighty thin ice with Rule Number Three!
Nevertheless, here’s the drop-leaf table in the family room. It’s really the focal point of all our Halloween decorating.Other than the clickers, none of this is old or even vintage, but I think it has the right look. The eyeball pails add the perfect twist, in my opinion.I tried something new in the dining room this year, adding a few homemade bats the children made years ago. The paper bat garland is a Martha Stewart whimsy. One end is trailing down to the pumpkins in this photo, but, don’t fear, it’s been re-affixed. Back in the family room, a totem pole of Jacks and a wooden cat cozy up to an old framed postcard that reads

Sing a song of Halloween

Pumpkins everywhere,

Cats and bats and witches

are flying through the air!

And, there you have it—a quick tour through my parlor. I hope you enjoyed it!

Jeepers!

2011-10-29T23:54:00.001-04:00

Two of our three children have facebook accounts, and from time to time, I like to do what I consider “checking in”—scrolling through their wall posts, clicking on photos, looking at a few of their close friends’ pages. You know, normal mom stuff. I would never do something so mortifying to them as actually post a comment on their wall. (I have, however, sent a text directing one of them to remove a comment he made.) It’s part of the deal at the T&C House. As long as the Mister and I are paying the bills, then we determine where your so-called privacy begins and ends. The Mister and I are careful not to abuse our authority, but I have occasionally been accused of “creepin.’”

Really, they have no idea of the “wall creeping” of which I’m capable.

Do you check up on your kids’ online activity? Do you hang giant spiders on your house?

A Friendly Ghost

2011-10-28T18:03:00.001-04:00

I suspect by now you’ve seen these cuties on Pinterest. The news is that not only did I “pin” this idea, but I also actually made these treats. One for the piano teacher and one for her husband. One each for the tutor, her husband, and toddler. And a few for sweet friends.

Assemble a couple of Graham crackers, a fun-sized Hershey bar, and a Peeps ghost in a cellophane sack, and you have a frighteningly simple treat! After the s’more is re-assembled, microwave for about ten seconds, and enjoy!

What’s your favorite Halloween treat?

From the Archives: A Ghost Story

2011-10-18T20:30:00.000-04:00

I received so many sweet comments when I posted this last year that I decided to post it again for anyone who might have missed it.

When I was a little girl, watching television was only a small part of my big day of playing and pretending. In fact, the only show I remember seeing regularly wasCaptain Kangaroo. Bob Keeshan and his team put together arguably the finest children’s programming ever. Parked in a child-sized wooden rocker with a glass of milk and a graham cracker, I sat mesmerized for an hour while my mother enjoyed a bit of peace. I am sure I laughed at the antics of Bunny Rabbit, Mr. Moose, Dancing Bear, and Mister Greenjeans, but my favorite part of the show was when Captain Kangaroo would read a story. Mike Mulligan and His Steamshovel, Mary Ann; Caps for Sale; Make Way for Ducklings; and A Snowy Daywere a few of my favorites, and they are books that I read to my own children years later. One book that the Captain read that I absolutely loved was Georgie, a tale of a sweet and curious ghost.I loved Georgie’s shyness. The line drawings of a quaint New England house and its owners, the Whittakers captivated me, and I loved the simple prose that author Robert Bright used to tell his ghostly tales.When we were in New York this past fall, we spent a delightful rainy Sunday morning browsing through the Corner Bookstore, where I found another favorite ghost story, Ghosts in the House! This charming picture book tells the story of a little girl who buys a house only to discover it is full of ghosts. She makes quick work of catching them, promptly tosses them in the washer, and then stitches them up as curtains and bed linens. It is a delightful book, and I highly recommend you get it for your children or your grandchildren or nieces or nephews or just for yourself, as I did!

So, these were the books I was thinking of when I devised this extremely inexpensive and easy and non-scary way to add some subtle Halloween charm to the T&C house.

Start with white tissue paper, the same kind with which you would line a gift box. You’ll need at least one sheet for each of your front or street side windows. Butcher paper would work well for this project, too.

Next, simply draw out some ghostly shapes, with loose, gentle curves. I tried to leave one corner of each tissue paper intact, to serve as my guide for placement and to prevent the ghosts from looking like blobs! Cut out the shapes with scissors.Here’s our dining room table, covered with a variety of ghost bodies.Next, using a wide-tipped black Sharpie draw simple round eyes and smiles or O-shaped mouths. I made some of each. Be sure to use some newspaper or scrap paper underneath your tissue paper because the Sharpie bleeds through!Finally, place your ghosts in your windows using Magic Scotch tape. It was hard to get a good picture because of the glare, but as you can see there’s a ghost in each window, a few are placed upside down in hopes of giving the appearance of fun-loving spooks whooshing through the house! I found it easiest to put a tiny piece of tape at the top of the ghost’s head to get it into position, and then to tape the body into place. Above is one of the ghosts during the day.

And, here’s the twilight shot.

Happy Haunting!

One Holiday at a Time!

2011-10-17T17:53:00.000-04:00

This makes me want to buy something there, how about you?

Really Great Pumpkin

2011-10-15T23:14:00.001-04:00

Here at the T&C house, we always manage to watch “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,” at least once during October. When the children were little, watching “The Great Pumpkin” meant lights out, pajamas on, and a big bowl of homemade caramel corn. Happily, our brood still enjoys the tradition, the difficulty is getting everyone together. We’re hoping for an evening during Big’s fall break. One of my favorite quotes from the Peanuts gang is when Linus says, “There are three things I have learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics, and The Great Pumpkin.” I love Linus; he’s so earnest.

I also am crazy about this Krusteaz mix that I found recently at Costco. Typically, I’m not too keen on using baking mixes as it’s not really much trouble to bake from scratch, but I decided to give this a try. I already have a terrific pumpkin bread recipe, but the recipes for pancakes and cookies definitely caught my eye. I made the cookies, adding semi-sweet chocolate chips, for our picnic cruise and for tailgating at Clemson. They were a big hit at both events.The pumpkin spice flavor is surprisingly good!

The baking time is only about 12 minutes, which is about twice as long as it takes Middle to polish a dozen off, along with a gallon of milk, of course! I did manage to bake a batch on the sly, so that the Mister and I could have something in hand when we went to meet the new neighbors.

Welcome to the neighborhood, Erin and Phil!

What is your favorite pumpkin-flavored treat? Sweet or savory?

Maybe you can help . . .

2011-10-11T21:33:00.001-04:00

Have you ever worked in an office where one of your co-workers was constantly hitting you up to buy chocolate or wrapping paper or oranges to help their child's school or troop or band? Or maybe your location was more low-key, and when you stopped to re-fill your coffee cup you noticed a sign-up sheet to order a box of Girl Scout cookies. Well, today, I am that obnoxious person, and it's not really something I'm comfortable doing. In fact--and Little, Middle, and Big will all verify this--whenever they had to sell something for some organization, I would bite my tongue, buy the minimum, and send in my check. I am the PTA mother who says, "if every parent would just write a check for $20, we could be done with Boxtops and carnivals and all the rest."

But Big asked me to post this for his friend and pastor of the church he attends while at school. After watching it, how could I not? So, if you are led, then please help a beginning artist share a story of redemption by making a small contribution in the next 24 hours.

Click here to make a contribution as small as $10, payable through your secure Amazon account. If KT doesn't raise the money, then you won't be charged, but I hope to see you at the movies!

A Wing and a Prayer

2011-10-11T00:05:00.001-04:00

A few years ago, I routinely found myself in one of those odd little time windows peculiar to mothers of young children. I don’t remember all the details, only that on Friday mornings I had a little over an hour to spend before I had to pick up Little from nursery school. There wasn’t enough time to run back home and get anything accomplished, and I couldn’t do the grocery shopping because I wasn’t going directly home afterward. I think. As I said, the details escape me now.

One morning I decided to cross the parking lot from the nursery school and pop in the parish office of the small Episcopal church where we were members. I was probably looking for coffee or hoping to buy a stamp. Instead I encountered two women, in their early 80s I’d guess, companionably folding the weekly bulletins. Vivian and Anna. Vivian, who was dressed in a track suit, instructed me to pull up a chair and make myself useful. I did. The time passed quickly. They asked me questions about our young family, one of only a handful in the small parish, and Vivian filled me in on her grown children, who were scattered but making plans to come home for Thanksgiving. Anna, a tiny lady who wore a caramel-colored cardigan and brown tweed skirt told me she was spending the rest of her afternoon looking for lampshades for her apartment. Her sister was coming to visit. Each morning, we would say, “Good morning, Saint Edward!”

I fell into the easy habit of joining Vivian and Anna in the paneled conference room each Friday. As we grew more familiar with one another, we began to share tidbits of parish news and opinions about changes in our small town of Mount Dora. Spry Vivian was the outspoken one, but she was goodhearted and funny. Anna was content to fold and smile and occasionally ask a question. One Friday, when I arrived Anna was alone; Vivian had gone to visit one of her children. At last, I would get to hear some of Anna’s story! I began asking the questions I’d unknowingly saved for Anna—how long have you lived in Mount Dora? Where did you live before? Details began to surface . Interesting details. I pressed on, gently, How did you meet your husband? Anna’s black eyes sparkled beneath her snow white cropped cut, “ Well, I was a Pan Am stewardess, and we met on a flight to Cairo.” Bingo! It all fit—Anna’s classic and stylish good looks at 80; her demure yet confident manner. Where did she fly? “All over the world, of course!” Although, she didn’t get to South America as often as she would’ve liked.

Was it as glamorous as I imagined? “We were treated very, very well and met lots of interesting people.” Dignitaries? Movie stars? “Oh, yes, even royalty flew Pan Am.”Anna and her husband, who had passed away some years earlier, didn’t have any children, and so the Mister and I adopted Anna. She began to join us for Christmas Day and for our annual Easter Brunch and Egg Hunt. She had such great stories and always kept our guests mesmerized. We moved away a little more than five years ago, and sadly, we have not kept in touch, but when ABC’s new series Pan Am debuted a few Sundays ago, you can bet that I was watching and thinking of Anna. And I am determined to check in on her next time we’re in the Sunshine State. As for the show, I am completely hooked.

How ‘bout you? Have you watched Pan Am? Are you a fan?

The Supper of the Boating Party

2011-10-05T23:24:00.001-04:00

Probably like most of you, dear readers, I have a few memories of nursery school and kindergarten days that have informed me, that offer clues as to who I really am and what, perhaps, I really seek. One of these early memories is of the art museum docent who regularly visited our nursery school, bringing with her a poster-sized print of a famous work of art.

Once, she brought Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party, and I have never forgotten it. Oh, of course, I don’t remember anything she had to say, I just recall being drawn into the painting, loving the colors, the exuberance of the outing depicted. At the time, I loved—still do, actually—Richard Scarry’s Busy Busy Town book, and I think this painting opened a similar door for my young mind—it was visually engaging, full of stories I could tell myself. So, dear docent wherever you are, thank you. I have loved art ever since, and my life has been richer for it.

As much as I am enriched by visual art, it is the art of friendship that really feeds my soul. And the Mister and I are blessed to have great friends, both near and far. Somewhere in the middle distance is my dear friend, D, who found a deal (Groupon, perhaps) and planned a Sunday evening outing for friends.

The Mister and I packed a few goodies and drove to Charlotte to meet our pals.

We toted our picnic to the end of the dock, where an electric boat awaited us. Longtime and dear friends, the Ws, guaranteed safe passage for the flowers.D’s husband, S, piloted us out of the marina and around the coves of Lake Norman. The day was overcast and cool, perfect for a fall cruise.D and B have our snack supper buffet ready to serve. Spinach rolls, parmesan chicken fingers, Palmetto Cheese and crackers, and pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.It’s possible that adult beverages were proffered. The Mister and I had a great time, being on the water with old friends, great (and uninterrupted!) conversation, and delicious nibbles.

Cheers to the Supper of the Boating Party!

So, what’s the most fun deal you’ve ever purchased through Groupon, Living Social, or a similar daily deal site?

Fall de Rol

2011-10-03T22:05:00.001-04:00

It seems as if autumn has at last settled on the beautiful upcountry of South Carolina. The dogwood trees, always the earliest to change, have begun to turn their velvety garnet; the skies are cloudless blue; and pumpkins and chrysanthemums are appearing on neighboring porches. Of course, I was eager to add some touches of fall around the T&C house, and I decided to start with the front door. Typically, I buy some pumpkins and gourds from the farmers’ market and do my best to artfully arrange them on the brick steps, but this year I determined to add a wreath. This is because I am secretly rather rebellious.You see, earlier this summer I read a column by one of my favorite essayists, Julia Reed, in one of my favorite publications, Garden & Gun. Miss Reed proposed that one should have only Christmas wreaths, implying that all others were tacky. Well! I’ve never had a fall wreath before, but after reading Miss Reed’s tongue-in-cheek column, I wanted to give it a go. (Admittedly, finding a corn husk wreath for half price didn’t hurt either.) The monogram was kind of an afterthought and perhaps a little more overtly cutesy-preppy than I would usually go, but as I told myself, lighten up, it’s not Winterthur you’re decorating! Once inside, I have a wonderful, subtle potpourri mix on an old chest in the front hall. Middle and Little found the unusual pinecone when we were visiting the Mister’s parents this past summer.In the family room and living room, I like to use some of the blue and white porcelain and Imari bowls I’ve collected as well as wooden ware to bring a bit of fall indoors. A tiny black lacquer tray holds a few gourds and leaves on the desk in the kitchen. In the summer, these containers sometimes hold lemons or seashells. In the family room, an old wooden tray rests on the walnut drop leaf sofa table. In front of the fireplace, an old basket holds a mix of gourds and berries. A few fresh flowers in an old earthenware crock add an appealing scent.On the dining room table, barley twist candlesticks and pedestals are the perfect place to add a few more touches of fall, including Indian corn, dried pomegranates and artichokes, and preserved leaves and acorns. On the sideboard, I added a few white and metallic pumpkins, in hopes of bringing out the colors in my grandmother’s vases and the tole tray. I’m not sure which one of my darling children stuck the feather, which was subtly tucked in the arrangement, up stick straight, but that’s kind of the way things go around here. I’m worried this display looks a little “retail,” but it’s awfully nice by candlelight.

I’m still working out the details of our mantel. I have some oversize glass urns that I’ve filled with river stones, and I have clipped some small branches of colored leaves to fill them out. Little is keen to decorate for Halloween, but I’ve told her we have to wait a bit and enjoy autumn for itself.

What about you? Do you have any favorite fall traditions?

The Second Part of the Story

2011-09-15T23:41:00.001-04:00

First, I want to thank you all for your comments and emails on the post “An Anniversary.” Even after 20 years past, kind words are welcome. For those who said they had been encouraged, what a gift your words are to me. If you weren’t able to read the first part of the story, then click here. And now, to continue.

* * *

Oh yes, a dream. A dream about a boy I had known in college. Honestly to say I had a dream is a bit of an overstatement. There was no setting, no plot, no classic dream symbolism. I simply woke up thinking about someone I hadn’t thought of in almost ten years. This happened the next morning, and the next. I was puzzled. For one thing, I had no interest in dating and had made it plain to friends that I wanted no part in any “set ups.” I really could not imagine ever marrying again, so, in my mind, there was no point in dating.

I wish I had time (and the memory) to recall all the coincidences and confirmations, God was sent my way, but about two months later, I finally wrote that “dream boy” a letter on behalf of our college’s alumni council, on which I sat for a three-year term. The letter was almost a business letter, simply inquiring if he would be interested, or if he knew of anyone who might be interested in serving on our board as we were looking for more young alumni as well as a broader geographical representation. Almost as an afterthought, I added that after going through a difficult time, I had come to value friendship more than ever, and I told him how much I appreciated his friendship to me during those “golden, carefree college years,” and that I hoped he was doing well. And that was it. Consciously, I thought I had lost my mind for writing such a letter, and, yet, inexplicably, I felt it was the exact right thing to do.

A couple of weeks later he called me, and we talked for more than an hour. He worked for the Walt Disney Company in Florida and did a good bit of traveling. Keep in mind that this was 1993; email and cell phones were not yet commonplace. A postcard followed our phone call. I sent another letter, and a courtship that pre-dated email had begun. We wrote long hand-written letters to each other all summer, and by the fall we had begun talking on the phone regularly. He invited me to visit, and so the weekend before Thanksgiving I flew to Orlando. Friends convinced me that leaving Big to spend the weekend with his grandparents was the thing to do. I remember one treasured pal, saying, “You cannot walk up that Jet way with a flight-worn toddler on one hip and a diaper bag on the other!” Friends also convinced me to form a contingency plan—in other words, we had a rescue plan in case this fellow turned out to be an axe murderer. He wasn’t. The weekend was perfect; my new beau was handsome, charming, funny, and a complete gentleman, who attempted no more than one chaste kiss. By the time I boarded my return flight on Sunday, we were figuring out how the relationship could work. On Thursday of that very week, Continental Airlines announced nonstop service between Greenville and Orlando for $79 round-trip. It is obvious to me now that God had begun to woo me back, to romance me with a romance of my own.

The Mister proposed to me and to Big a few weeks before Big’s second birthday. We were married the following September, a little more than three years after my first husband’s death. To all of us, it seemed to have been a fairy tale, and for that I am thankful. Our great God, however, is not a writer of fairy tales; He is the author of love stories.

Big and I moved to a tiny town outside Orlando (way outside) to be with the Mister, and our “happily ever after” began, but not in the way you might think. The Mister headed off to work each morning, while I tried to adjust to life in the swampy woods with a two-year-old. The heat, the bugs, the isolation of a small town, where I was the only woman who wasn’t collecting a pension check, was depressing. I was homesick and miserable, yet determined to make it work on my own terms. Our marriage and family still looked like a fairy tale on the outside, but on the inside resentment and betrayal stained many pages. And, through each disappointment, God was working. You see, after my first husband died, I concluded that God—regardless of His sovereignty, love, grace, and mercy—could not be trusted, at least not by me. My disappointment that our marriage was not the fairy tale of our courtship had less to do with the Mister and more to do with my own failings—my lack of trust in God, my pride or stubborn self-reliance, and my smug self-righteousness.

It was only God’s persistent conviction that brought about my sorrowful repentance. I started to pray to trust God more. And, then, things began to happen. I joined with other women, and we began to pray for our husbands. We prayed for more faith. We prayed to love God more, and God answered and is still answering those prayers. The answers are seldom in ways we expect and often in ways that are harder than we’d planned, and yet, how we have seen Him provide.

A little more than five years ago, the Mister and I began feeling rather restless. We had recently finished building our dream house, and were ready to add a pool. Our children were happy and healthy. We thought something was wrong with us. We began to pray for contentment. We felt increasingly content, but paradoxically we felt increasingly restless. On a weekend beach trip to Amelia Island, we walked into a shop called Go Fish Clothing & Jewelry.

It was a cool place, and from that afternoon God has led us on an amazing adventure from corporate security and a lifestyle we loved to having our own store here in downtown Greenville. The mission of Go Fish is to provide opportunity to artisans and craftspeople from around the world. Ours is a fair trade store, seeking to treat both those we buy from and those we sell to with the dignity and integrity of Christ. Once again this January, the Mister and I will travel to Peru, having the great privilege of serving some of the world's poorest people.

Please pray for us. Only God could take us—two fractured fairy tale characters—and give us vital roles in the love story of His son Jesus, who is the author and perfector of our faith. The Mister and I have been blessed far more than we deserve, but our greatest blessing is knowing that our “happily ever after” is yet to come.

An Anniversary

2011-09-10T23:35:00.001-04:00

I guess I have some ‘splaining to do.

First, I must say that I am in awe of any bloggers who work full-time away from home and write posts regularly. Really. I thought I could do it; I want to do it, but, well, the posts I’ve written in my mind never seem to make it to the blog.

I’m not giving up, though. In fact, quite the opposite. I have, with the Mister’s encouragement, carved out a little time to write regularly. We’ll see if it actually happens. I’m not exactly sure why I’m so determined to continue this writing experiment; most days I don’t even think I’ve found this blog’s direction or my voice yet. And maybe that’s why I want to keep going. Either that, or I’m just crazy stubborn.

Nevertheless, I’ve been planning this particular post for a while. Kind of. It’s personal, more personal than I have been before. It took a while for me to decide I wanted to share this, but I believe it’s time. Earlier this summer, when I began thinking about writing this, it didn’t occur to me that tomorrow would be the tenth anniversary of September 11. To anyone who’s reading this who lost someone that day, I pray that you have found hope and comfort.

And, if you have not, I pray that you will.

* * *

I love lists. I loved the sense of organization I get when I make a list, and love the sense of accomplishment I get when I check things off my list. Grocery lists, packing lists, gift lists, book I’ve read, books I want to read, and, of course, to-do lists. I love lists. And calendars! I love calendars, too. I guess you could say I’m a planner.

All this list-making and calendar-keeping began for me in earnest in college. Classes, clubs, and dates demanded organization, and I loved that sense of order—and yes, of control. I met my husband at the end of my freshman year. We dated throughout college and for a couple of years while he finished a second degree. Planning a wedding, moving, a new job, buying and decorating a house—all afforded me countless opportunities to plan and to further delude myself that I had control over our lives. We were married in 1987. We both had great jobs and a terrific group of friends that we spent time with almost every weekend. We attended church, Bible studies, and even did a few service projects here and there. Our calendars were full, and our plans were big. And, then, it happened—Donna was expecting. Then Beth, then Anna, then Debbie. Then me—all according to plan.

Late one September afternoon, my husband called me at work to say he’d be home later than usual—he’d forgotten to tell me about an after work get-together. He was a chemical engineer for a large manufacturer in the electronics industry, and he played on the company softball team. The team had won the championship a few days earlier, so the guys were getting together to celebrate. I assured him that I didn’t mind as I had a late meeting myself. As I left that evening of September 11, 1991, I drove home, planning our baby’s nursery. In all honesty, I was hoping to get home first so I could have the quiet house to myself. Although I was only six weeks along, pregnancy was making me tired. I felt as though I couldn’t get enough sleep. As I pulled into the garage, I could hear the phone ringing. I decided to bring the empty trash bin up from the street, in hopes that when I returned to the house, it would, indeed, be quiet. Oddly, the phone was still ringing. Reluctantly, I answered.

The woman calling told me that my husband had been in an accident. He was on his way to the hospital. Two of his co-workers would be by to pick me up. I hung up, stunned. I knew almost no details, and yet, I knew that we weren’t going to be talking about stitches or casts when I got to the hospital. Looking back, I believe this “knowing” was one of God’s first assurances to me that He was with me in this.

As we rode to the hospital, details unfolded. After the cook-out, some of the guys started throwing around a football. The neighborhood yards were small, so they began tossing it in the street. My husband went back for a pass—and wearing his slick-soled Weejuns—slipped and fell, hitting the back of his head on the curb. He sat up for an instant, waved the guys off, and fell back into unconsciousness.

When we arrived at the hospital, I was taken to a private room to wait in the ER, where my in-laws met me a few minutes later. My own parents joined me as quickly as they could, making a four-hour drive across the dark mountains. Sometime after midnight, my husband was admitted to ICU, where he survived in a coma on a respirator for three days. I watched each monitor, and with each beep, I prayed and willed each reading to either go up or down, depending on what the doctors had told me.

For three days, brain scans showed no activity—there was no physical response to pain or to light. I’m told that, at times, there were literally hundreds of people in the hospital halls and chapel and parking lot praying for us. And I hoped as long as the neurologists would allow. Then I signed the organ donation papers and was given a few minutes alone with my darling husband of four years. I sang to him because I didn’t know what else to do.

No doubt many of you have heard, or read, or even memorized Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declared the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” At 29 years old and six weeks pregnant, I did not find this verse especially comforting. I had already made my plans, and widowhood was not on my list. Surrounded by family and friends, insulated by shock, I planned a funeral in one city and a burial in his boyhood home of Tennessee.

To say I was angry at God is an incredible understatement. In my not-yet-30-year-old ignorance, I believed that I had been good and faithful, and for that matter, so had my husband. With God, I was done.

In His great faithfulness, however, He was not done with me.

Mark 2 tells the story of four friends who carried their paralyzed friend to a house where Jesus was teaching. Unable to get through the crowd, the friends carry their friend up to the rooftop, where they proceed to break through the roof to put their friend in front of Jesus. Clay-caked palm leaves, dead bugs, dust, and broken tiles must have crashed down. I am sure that the friends’ perseverance made a mess. Those are the kind of friends and family I had. Daily they carried me to Jesus when I could not go and would not go myself. Stubbornly and persistently they prayed for me, for our baby, for our future. They were hurting over the loss of their friend, too, and I imagine that at times it was very, very messy.

Seven months later on Easter Eve, I gave birth to a beautiful brown-eyed boy, named for his father. On this blog, he goes by Big, and he is studying to be an engineer at Clemson University, as his father did.

Grief is hard work. Grief with an infant is indescribable. Of course, there were moments of delight and joy—followed always by pain and sadness. Bittersweet was as good as it got that first year, but as Big’s first birthday approached I knew we needed to celebrate. First, there were a lot of people who needed to be thanked—meals and yard work had been miraculously provided for months. Second, Big and I had survived our first year. I decided to throw an April birthday brunch. The day was a lovely spring day, and Big’s first year was truly celebrated.

That night as I cried myself to sleep as I had every night for a year and a half, I vowed that it would be the last time. I couldn’t provide Big with a father, but he deserved to have a happy mother.

Two weeks later I had a dream. to be continued.

[All of the images used in this post were selected from Google Images and are not my own photographs.]

Have Your Cake

2011-08-18T00:21:00.004-04:00

One of my dearest friends has a funny story about cake. When she shared this story with me, she did not offer many details. I have added some from my own imagination, and I hope she will forgive me that. I love this story because it is a tale of expectation, of love language, of newlyweds, and, of course, of cake.

My friend and her husband have now been married almost 25 years, comfortable with each other in a way you can’t really appreciate in your hormone-addled 20s. When they arrived home from their honeymoon in mid-September, I suspect they were both giddy and exhausted. Waking on a crisp Saturday morning to an apartment full of wedding gifts to be unwrapped, acknowledged, and put away, I can only guess that the groom began to brew a pot of coffee, while his bride began to stack like-sized boxes of china and crystal. Surely they must have sat down together on their sofa or perhaps at their small table to sip their coffee and open some thick and promising envelopes.

It was in this moment, that the groom, a young man but not an innocent, asked brightly, “What kind of cake are you going to make today?”

My friend, somewhat bewildered by this question, no doubt gestured at the chaos around them, and answered, “I’m not baking a cake today.”

To which her husband, now equally puzzled, replied, “Well, it’s Saturday.”

“Yessss—?”

“My mom bakes a cake every Saturday. She always has.”

“Ohh." I think it might have taken a moment for this to sink in, sharing this memory with her beloved of twenty-five years’ of Saturday cakes. Butter and eggs coming to room temperature on the kitchen counter. The fragrance of vanilla wafting. Beaters and spoons to lick. She said simply, “I’m not baking a cake today.” And that was that.

The Mister and I shared a birthday dinner with this couple a few weeks ago when they were in town visiting the groom’s parents, now close to 80. I couldn’t resist. “So, does your mom still bake a cake every Saturday?” And the reply was, “Absolutely. Today it was lemon.”

“Really. Even though it’s just the two of them?”

“Yes, indeed. She makes the cake, and then they give most of it away to neighbors. They save enough so that my dad can have a small slice for breakfast each morning until the next Saturday.”

I’m not sure why I love this story so much. I suppose it reminds me of my paternal grandmother, who also baked every Saturday, although she was more of a pie-making gal. I also love that my friend knew that although she would make many delicious cakes, she would not make one every Saturday. And, I love that she didn’t question either the veracity of his story or the sanity of her mother-in-law. And, finally, the groom, who must have surely loved those Saturday made from scratch treats, just let. it. go. —and that kind of freedom and release is truly sweet. You might say that it's the icing on the cake.

A bowl of vegetables with someone you love
      is better than steak with someone you hate.
                                                                --Proverbs 15:17
What’s your favorite cake?

From the Deep Freeze: You Say Tomato

2011-08-02T00:00:00.002-04:00

Within the past year or so, one of my favorite publications, Southern Living, began a new feature in its hallowed foods section. I believe it’s called “Mama’s Way/Your Way,” and the general idea is to take an iconic Southern dish and share the old-school recipe and then offer an updated version. Usually, the modern adaptation offers considerable savings in either prep time or in artery-clogging ingredients.

Here’s my version of “Mama’s Way/Your Way” featuring the beloved tomato sandwich.

The traditional tomato sandwich is both simple and perfect, relying on key ingredients that must not be changed.A locally grown vine-ripened tomato is, of course, the most important ingredient. Please, no substitutions. If the tomato grew in your garden, so much the better; if not, the farmer’s market or a roadside stand tomato will work fine. A grocery store tomato will not suffice. Next up, Duke’s mayonnaise. This brand is not available everywhere, so you may have to make do on this one. Hellman’s will work. I like Jane’s Krazy Mixed-up Salt, but regular salt and pepper will be just as good. Now for the bread, personally, I use whole wheat bread these days, but, remember this is “Mama’s Way,” so white bread is the authentic choice.So slice the tomato, and let the slices drain for a minute or two on paper towels. Then, salt and pepper them well. Slather the bread with mayonnaise, add the tomato slices, and give the whole thing a gentle press. If possible, eat this on a back porch while drinking sweet tea. For dessert, have a fresh peach.

I say tomahto . . .

The updated tomato sandwich offers a lot of great flavor, too. And the ingredients are no less important, although there is more room for creativity.

A vine-ripened tomato is key. Again, no grocery store ‘maters will do. Fresh basil is a must; as is fresh mozzarella. I like ciabatta bread as the base for this sandwich, but any hearty country bread will do. If you like, drizzle the bread with a flavorful olive oil, and then add the tomatoes, basil and cheese. Top with Jane’s Krazy Salt or another favorite seasoning. These are great sandwiches to take to an outdoor concert or to enjoy for a light supper with a glass of wine. Again, a fresh peach makes the perfect dessert.

Coming soon, a recipe for the best tomato pie ever! Do you have a favorite tomato recipe?

From the Deep Freeze: Ode to the Onion

2011-07-29T00:00:00.000-04:00

It’s hot as blue blazes just about everywhere it seems, and the Mister and I (especially I!) are big believers in the adage of “if you can’t take the heat, then stay out of the kitchen.” So, since we are childless for a few days, we decided to get out of town for the evening. When we left at six-thirty, the temperature was 95 degrees; 33 steep and winding miles later, the thermometer was reading a cool 70. Ahhhhh. Flowers outside a Saluda antiques shop. I loved the yellows of the pot and the chair, perfect for the deep greens and pinks of the geraniums and vinca.The Mister considers mountain cabins on the market. Someday, maybe.I loved these arched windows. Most of the town’s buildings are designated historic sites.

We were eager to re-visit a restaurant we had enjoyed a few weeks ago, with friends and two of our children, for an early Father’s Day dinner. It’s called The Purple Onion, located in Saluda, North Carolina. Specializing in organic, locally sourced, and sustainably harvested produce, seafood, and beef, The Purple Onion offers a casual atmosphere with lots of outdoor tables. Near the covered patio area is a natural mountain spring, surrounded by fern and cress and other native plants.Everything served is fresh and made-to-order on site. Choices offered the night we were there included: corn husk roasted mountain trout, duck breast with balsamic fig and red grape chutney, and an Appalachian green plate special, featuring heirloom tomatoes, sweet corn, okra, greens, and beets. Blackberry cobbler for dessert.

Saluda itself is a sweet little place that started as a railroad town. Originally known as Pace’s Gap, the community was primarily a stopover for traders and herders.

As railroads began crossing the country, Captain Charles Pearson, chief engineer of the railway, was sent to determine the best way to traverse the Carolina mountains. After assessing the topography, with its sheer cliffs and multiple underground streams, Pearson made the decision to have the tracks built across Saluda Mountain rather than through the gap. The cost to the railroad and to the community was high. Many lost their lives building the line that became known—and is still known—as the steepest mainline standard gauge grade in North America.

The Carolina Special painted by Howard Fogg. The Special ran from Charleston, SC, to Cincinnati, OH, crossing the 5.3 /100 Saluda grade.

The first passenger train to climb Saluda arrived on July 4, 1879. Soon, some eight passenger trains a day steamed into the tiny depot, occasionally bringing such notable writers and artists as Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald and Dorothy Dix, who found Saluda a restful haven.

Today the glitterati are long gone; a few art galleries and antiques shops cater to the day trippers. The summer residents enjoy cool mountain hikes and Appalachian sunsets. And, I suspect, frequent dinners at The Purple Onion.

Do you have a favorite quick get-away?

From the Deep Freeze: Thumpin' Good!

2011-07-28T00:00:00.001-04:00

Part of the Deep Freeze series, this post was originally published on June 27, 2010.

Watermelon is without question one of my favorite foods. I have loved it since I was a child, and I used to eat it, quite literally, down to the white rind. In addition to its low-calorie/high flavor appeal, watermelon reminds me of girlhood visits on my grandparents’ shady back porch, where my cousins and I would spit seeds into the dusky night while lightning bugs flickered around the white hydrangea blossoms. A game of freeze tag almost always followed.

In my 1960s childhood, a local grocery store chain advertised to a catchy tune that its watermelons were “thumpin’ good . . . red, ripe, and ready to eat; Cas Walker melons just can’t be beat!” And, although, the best watermelons always came from my dad’s garden, Cas Walker was right about one thing: the best way to choose a watermelon is by the sound. Oh sure, you can look at the stem, you can sniff for sweetness, but if you want a really good watermelon, put your ear close by and give it a thump! If it sounds hollow, it’s a sweet ripe melon. Trust me on this, and whenever possible buy a local watermelon; you’ll have no regrets.

So, once you have your perfect melon home, it’s time to slice it up. During peak season, we eat at least one watermelon a week, and we seldom ever eat it from the rind. I like to cut it into chunks and keep it cold to use in salads or to serve for dessert with blueberries.

Slicing the melon on an old rimmed cookie sheet keeps the sticky juice from running all over the countertop. Clean-up, as they say, is a snap!

And, now you’re all set with several days’ worth of watermelon in storage containers in the fridge, and a delicious fruit salad to accompany supper. My favorite watermelon recipe these days is a bit of a twist on the watermelon arugula salad that had my mouth watering a couple of years ago. It’s simply a little more family friendly—in other words, I’m the only arugula lover in this house!

Watermelon salad

baby spinach, rinsed and dried

fresh basil or cilantro, if you have either on hand, makes a nice addition

2 cups watermelon chunks

half a cup chopped peeled cucumber, optional

half a small red onion, coarsely chopped

4 ounces low-fat feta cheese, crumbled

to make the vinaigrette, whisk three parts olive oil to one part vinegar with a teaspoon of honey and a squeeze of lime juice, and a bit of kosher salt and black pepper to taste

If you want to make a statement presentation with this, serve it in triangles cut from the watermelon rind. Image from Slash Food

And, now, it’s time for my nightime bowl of watermelon. I hope the lightning bugs are out!

From the Deep Freeze: Summer House

2011-07-27T00:00:00.003-04:00

Part of the Deep Freeze series, this post was originally published on June 19, 2010.

With July quickly drawing to a close, I thought it was high time to bring a touch of summer to the T&C house, other than wet bathing suits, damp towels, and discarded flip flops, that is.

Scallop shells gathered on Anna Maria Island, Florida take their place on the side table in the kitchen.Treasures found all along the Maine coast fill a bowl in the front hall, reminding us of one of our favorite family vacations.

Fragments of giant scallop shells and starfish (purchased) collected on Saint George Island, a most beautiful and remote spot on the Gulf.Olive shells, the state shell of Florida, are a sweet summer reminder of great family beach visits all over that beautiful state.

Add in a few bowls or vases of these beauties, and the house definitely feels like summertime.

This year we’re returning to one of Charleston’s beaches, much closer to home than our usual choice of St. George Island in Florida's Big Bend. Middle, and Little are looking forward to the Atlantic surf instead of the tame waters of the Gulf. The Mister and I are thinking that we are going to enjoy spending some afternoons in Charleston, despite the no-doubt torrid temperatures we will face.

What's your favorite beach?

Tales From the Pool: The Deep End

2011-07-25T00:00:00.001-04:00

From the deep freeze summer re-run series. originally posted TUESDAY, JUNE 15, 2010

I have a baby book in which I carefully detailed each “first,” including all the typical ones like first tooth, first step, and so on. It’s harder to keep track of the “lasts”; one day you just sort of realize,hey, I haven’t had to drive him anywhere in months, and then it kind of starts to sink in that somewhere in the busyness of life I must’ve spoon fed him, helped him dress, checked his homework, washed his jersey, dropped him off, watched his team play for the last time.
I was thinking about this yesterday while sitting by our pool, watching young mothers with toddlers bobbing around in water, trying to have a conversation with one another.
Meanwhile, Little was practicing her diving from the blocks and coolly assessing some older middle school girls. And I wondered when the last time was that I hadto get in the pool. It’s been a few years, but for a while now I’ve been able to lounge and sun and read, getting in only when I wanted to cool off. Admittedly, I have enjoyed sitting poolside leafing through magazines and glancing up only to count heads or to acknowledge a Momwatchthis moment. Sure, occasionally I had to referee a disagreement over goggles or some such, but for the most part it was a blissful respite from the demands of the day.The Mister and I took Little to the pool late Sunday afternoon. He, of course, jumped right in and swam and played and admired all her handstands, dives, and splashes. I read. When he came over to dry off and stretch out for a bit, he said, “She’s going to want you to come in.” And I said, “Oh, I don’t think so, she hasn’t said anything,” and I began to think of reasons that I didn’t want to get all wet, namely that I needed to stop at the grocery on the way home. And then, she didn’t swim over to ask me to get in with her. For a long time. She was just fine. Without me. Finally, she glided over and said teasingly, “Why don’t you come in, Mommy? Are you afraid to get your hair wet?” I know, sadly, from experience, that I could have begged off and she would’ve shrugged and swam away, but I think I knew that if I didn’t go in this time, it might be the last time she invited me.

So, I walked to the edge of the deep end and jumped.
I’ve had enough lasts for a while.

Eating out of the freezer

2011-07-22T18:49:00.001-04:00

Writing a blog is a lot like making supper.

It’s easier, healthier, and tastier when I have a meal plan and a grocery list, when the pantry is full and the fridge is stocked. Sure, every once in a while I can pull a rabbit out of my hat and make something delicious with an onion, an egg, some pasta, and a frozen vegetable, but generally speaking, I like a plan. And, lately, although I’ve been feeding my family, I haven’t been feeding my blog. It’s possible that working full-time, helping out at the store, and, last but not least, wife-ing and mothering, are using most of my creative resources.

Truth is, I’m not willing to give up this little blogging endeavor just yet, but I’ve got to re-stock the inspiration pantry, so to speak. So in the meantime, while I get my blogging meal plan together, I’ve thawed out some dinners from the deep freeze. That’s right, for the next week or so, I’m serving leftovers. I’ll understand if you’d rather go out, but I will be back with some real home-cookin’!

And now, straight from the deep freeze . . .

Simple Summer Pleasures

It seems there are a few foods that are made for summertime. I’m not talking about juicy watermelon or ripe tomatoes or even fresh corn, although my family enjoys those throughout the season. I’m thinking more of foods that--although available year round--we set aside for summer—sort of like eggnog is only served from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. After all, the ingredients in eggnog are always available. It’s the same with one of the T&C household’s favorite treats— homemade frozen bananas. We started making these a few years ago after Little picked up a recipe for them in the grocery store. I like to think they’re a bit healthier than ice cream bars, and they taste amazing even if you’re not crazy for banana-flavored treats.

Start with a bunch of not-too-ripe bananas. They shouldn’t be green, but they should not be fully yellow either. And definitely no speckles!

Find a cookie sheet or baking pan that will fit easily in your freezer and line it with waxed paper.

Cut the bananas in half and insert food-grade wooden popsicle sticks. (If you are only going to be serving these to adults, you can use wooden skewers if you have them on hand.) Place on the wax paper-lined baking pan and pop them into the freezer for half an hour or so. (Leaving them in longer is fine, too, but you might want to cover them.)

While the bananas are chilling, melt one cup of semi-sweet chocolate chips in a microwave oven or in a double boiler. Microwave temperatures vary, so start with 30 seconds. Chocolate that has been melted in a microwave holds its shape, so be careful not to burn it. I microwave my chocolate for one minute, then add a teaspoon of cooking oil (even a light olive oil will work in a pinch) and stir until the chocolate is smooth and the oil is incorporated.

Remove the bananas from the freezer and quickly dunk them in the warm chocolate, which will harden immediately. Store covered in the freezer. A paper muffin liner slipped over the stick makes the perfect drip catcher. For young children, be sure to add sprinkles!

What’s your favorite summer treat?

9:30 in Greenville, or Midnight in Paris

2011-07-09T12:53:00.001-04:00

The Mister and I finally got around to seeing Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris last night. Although it was supposed to be a date night, we took Middle along, too, as he has been an only child all week. Middle has already seen The Green Lantern and Transformers this summer, and he made a few noises about seeing Zookeeper, the new Kevin James vehicle, but thankfully the Mister held firm with “this is what your mother and I want to see, and you are invited to join us.”

I knew I would like it—Paris, the 1920s, writers, artists, Owen Wilson, playing a writer. I knew the Mister would like it—the 1920s, Rachel McAdams, and sweetly, the fact that I would like it. Surprisingly, Middle liked it, too. I doubt he will tell anyone he liked it , but he did. I liked it so much, I might take Little to see it. I would definitely see it again!

Have you seen Midnight in Paris? What did you think?

Old Dog, No Tricks

2011-07-07T23:38:00.001-04:00

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I’ve gone back to work. Full-time. In a real office. Doing something I like. There are many pluses—obviously a paycheck is nice. I have my own office, and apart from the usefulness of having a place to do work, it also affords a place to decorate and make welcoming for volunteers. And, of course, I’ve been able to add to my wardrobe a bit, too.

So far, the negatives are traveling in a rental car for four days of training in a rather unattractive location led by a rather uninspired presenter. And, as one might expect, there’s been a little bit of office drama for the new “girl.” I think I mentioned that I hadn’t worked full-time for 17 years, and to be honest, I’d forgotten how women sometimes treat other women in the workplace. It pains me to say that—it really does. But being almost (gulp) 50 makes it all a bit easier to swallow.

You see, this little anecdote sums up well the perils of messing with “an old dog.” Regrettably, I could not find any attribution for this tale, although it has been published multiple times.

One day an old Collie starts chasing rabbits and before long, discovers that she’s far from home. Wandering about, she notices a panther heading rapidly in her direction.

The old Collie notices some bones on the ground close by, and she immediately settles down to chew on the bones with her back to the approaching cat. Just as the panther is about to leap, the old Collie exclaims loudly, ‘Wow, that was one delicious panther! I wonder, if there are any more around here?’

Hearing this, the young panther halts his attack and slinks away into the trees.

‘Whew!’ says the panther, ‘That was close! That old dog nearly had me!’

Meanwhile, a squirrel who had been watching the whole scene from a nearby tree, figures he can put this knowledge to good use and trade it for protection from the panther. So, off he goes.

The squirrel soon catches up with the panther, spills the beans and strikes a deal for himself with the panther.

The young panther is furious at being made a fool of and says, ‘Here, squirrel, hop on my back and see what’s going to happen to that canine!

Now, the old Collie sees the panther coming with the squirrel on his back and thinks, ‘What am I going to do now?’, but instead of running, the dog sits down with her back to her attackers, pretending she hasn’t seen them yet, and just when they get close enough to hear, the old Collie says…

‘Where’s that squirrel? I sent him off an hour ago to bring me another panther!

Let’s just say I’ve identified the panther and the squirrel, and wisdom, skill, and kindness will prevail.

Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding? Job 12:12

Have you ever encountered workplace drama?

Happy Birthday, America!

2011-07-04T09:29:00.001-04:00

Reflections on the Declaration of Independence

In its main features the Declaration of Independence is a great spiritual document. It is a declaration not of material but of spiritual conceptions.

Equality, liberty, popular sovereignty, the rights of man—these are not elements which we can see and touch. They are ideals. They have their source and their roots in the religious convictions of our forefathers. They belong to the unseen world. Unless the faith of the American people in these religious convictions is to endure, the principles of our Declaration will perish.

We cannot continue to enjoy the result if we neglect and abandon the cause. If all men are created equal, that is final. If they are endowed with inalienable rights, that is final. If governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed, that is final.

No advance, no progress can be made beyond these propositions. If anyone wishes to deny their truth or their soundness, the only direction in which he can proceed historically is not forward, but backward toward the time when there was no equality, no rights of the individual, no rule of the people.

Those who wish to proceed in that direction cannot lay claim to progress.

--Calvin Coolidge, July 1926

video by Steelehead Productions

Calling all Patriotic Prep Bloggers and Readers!

2011-07-03T17:22:00.000-04:00

Okay, friends and prepsters, I need a favor.

Middle, by far my preppiest progeny, is hoping to win a patriotic photo contest sponsored by Southern Tide, makers of the classic Skipjack polo shirt. If you have a minute, please be kind enough to click here first and "like" Southern Tide. Then click here to vote for Middle, also known as Joe, standing in a blue shirt in front of a long row of American flags! Thanks, and I owe you one!

Izza Pizza!

2011-06-18T23:46:00.001-04:00

Sometimes only pizza will do, right?

I have very few memories of my father in the kitchen. I recall his making pancakes once or twice, but the main cooking memory I have of him is the occasional Sunday night when he would make pizza. From the Chef Boyardee box mix. Still, when my brother and I were kids, it seemed like a big deal—Dad cooking, making pizza! Growing up in the South in the 1960s, pizza was still kind of exotic. The only pizza restaurants were “on the Strip” near the university campus. Today, the franchised pizza kings offer deals on every corner–carry-out, delivery, or eat-in. The pizza dons will throw in breadsticks, soft drinks, and even cookies as part of the bargain. And if the franchise pizza makers leave you cold (and greasy), then perhaps you have a local pizzeria that creates more authentic (and tastier) pies. We have a couple of terrific pizza options in our neighborhood, but when we’re feeding Big, Middle, and Little, a few pies add up to a lot of dough! The thrifty solution, of course, is the T&C Mom’s Kitchen Sink Pizza.

Crust is key. If you have the time, a true homemade crust is easy enough to make. Ready-made crusts are also available at the grocery store, and these are not bad if you are really in a time crunch. To my mind, though, convenience and taste combine to make a great crust when you purchase dough from your local grocery’s bakery.

Once the dough is rolled out and lightly coated with olive oil and cornmeal, it’s time to add the toppings. Emptying the cheese drawer yielded this delicious four cheese pizza, topped with mozzarella, cheddar, feta, and parmesan. We then sprinkled the pizza with salt and pepper and a very light drizzling of olive oil. Other herbs, either dried or fresh, would make a wonderful addition, too.

The true Kitchen Sink pizza was rubbed with chopped garlic and then topped with fresh spinach, leftover grilled chicken, sundried tomatoes, sliced artichoke hearts, feta cheese, parmesan cheese, and onion. (Olives and peppers, bacon, really almost anything can be added to this pizza.) Again a light drizzle of olive oil and a shake of salt and pepper finished the pie.

Bake in a preheated 400 degree oven for about 15 minutes or until the crust is lightly browned and the cheese is melted. Serve with a salad of spring greens and toss those pizza coupons in the recycle bin.

What’s your favorite pizza?

Grand Old Flag

2011-06-13T22:29:00.001-04:00

Well, I’m back. First, of all, please know how grateful I am for your kind comments, notes, and calls about our sweet Marian. I do believe she will live in my heart forever. And I have to smile as I think that she is probably not that disappointed about missing such a hot summer. It’s hard to say which she disliked most the heat or the indignity of her annual short haircut!

Summer is upon us with record high temperatures in the Carolinas as well as much of the rest of the country. It’s not all bad, though. I stopped at my first lemonade stand this week, and we have been feasting on watermelon and blueberries, too.

Tomorrow, of course, is Flag Day, here in the United States, and I hope you’ll display the colors in your neighborhood. Patriotism and symbolism notwithstanding, the American flag is a terrific example of graphic design, so I thought it might be fun to take a look at how some folks decorate with the flag in their interiors year round.Here a flag painting on board serves as the inspiration for a Pottery Barn layout.I really like the tartan chair juxtaposed with all the red, white, and blue. I’m curious, though, as to what the homemade arrow sign is all about. Thoughts?Here Old Glory seems to be showing her age a bit in tea-washed pillows. I really like this room, but that wrinkled dhurrie rug would drive me nuts. The 36-star flag was only in use from 1865-1867, so if this flag is authentic it is quite old, rare, and valuable. It looks to be in terrific shape.

The thirteen-star flag was in use from 1777 until 1795. Almost certainly the flag in this photograph is a reproduction. What a great cabin room! And, of course, the American flag is oft associated with crisp nautical design. Here the striped quilt and large gingham valance echo the flag’s graphic elements perfectly.

Middle has a 48-star flag hanging over his headboard. I would have loved to have posted a picture of it, but my photo stylist (that would be me) simply lacked the energy to make his room photo ready. I also have some needlepoint flag pillows that I scatter around the family room this time of year.

And I always pull out Deborah Harding’s book and put it on the blanket chest, which serves as our coffee table. The book adds both color and inspiration. It’s also a wonderful resource if you’re antiquing or looking for a piece of patriotic folk art for your house.

Do you decorate with the Stars and Stripes?

Good Dog

2011-06-04T22:01:00.001-04:00

A little more than five years ago, the Mister came home beaming. “We found a dog today!”

I’m ashamed to admit that I was reluctant to be a dog owner again. Dogs break my heart. But four sets of eyes looked at me pleadingly, and the next thing I knew I was standing in the careworn lobby of Animal Control. We walked through the rows of kennels, and with each step I willed myself not to fall in love, to be kind but firm. This was a dog for the children. Finally, we stopped at the kennel of a staggeringly thin collie, and the attendant opened the door. The dog slowly walked out to the tiny yard, so that we could get acquainted. She seemed reserved. And kind of old. And, of course, she had all the usual problems of a dog that’s been living on the street. Again four sets of pleading eyes bore into me, and I agreed. We put our name on the list and went home to wait the required 10 days. She appeared to be a purebred collie, and I thought perhaps she might be claimed.Ten days later, we got the call. In a couple of days we could pick her up after the required vet visit. She was in sad shape and clearly would need a lot of attention and love. I--of the steely resolve to merely care for the dog but not fully love her--met briefly with the doctor who told me he wasn’t able to spay her as she was still producing milk. “Poor thing’s lost a litter of pups somewhere.” And, then, of course, all bets were off.

She was fed good food and gained 20 pounds in about a month. I brushed her daily. She was walked regularly. She learned to play Frisbee, and what a sight to see her bounding across the green lawn. Her manners were impeccable. And wherever we went, which was a lot of places, people said, “Oh, what a beautiful dog.”

I don’t know why, but she loved me best right from the start. One of her most endearing traits to me was that no matter where she was sitting or who was petting her, when I came into the room, she would watch to see where I sat, then come to be at my feet.

She began to decline last summer. Increasingly, she struggled to get up and down. Collies are a stoic breed, but the medicine no longer seemed to be enough. She lost her appetite. Several weeks ago, we noticed that her tail wasn’t wagging, and she barely took notice of our comings and goings, although she still made her way to my side each night.

She was terrified of thunderstorms, and in years past the Mister and I spent many summer nights calming her. Only a few days ago, thunder shook the house, and she didn’t even wake. A day or two later, the Mister made the call.

The Mister and Middle took Marian to the park this morning while it was still cool. She was able to walk a little way before flopping down beneath a tree. Our kind vet met them there and administered the injection. The Mister said she didn’t even flinch.

We buried her body on her favorite dog bed near the creek behind our house, which is where she loved to explore when she was still spry. I loved looking down from the deck and seeing her white ruff amid all the green of the leaves and brush. This fall, we’ll plant a dogwood tree there to remember her.

[She] possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.

--John Cam Hobhouse

My dear old dog, most constant of all friends.

--William Croswell Doane

For the soul of every living thing is in the hand of God.

--Job 12:10

Good dog, Marian. Stay.

Mental Health Day

2011-06-02T23:32:00.001-04:00

The month of May seems to have overtaken December as the busiest month of the year! School projects, recitals, awards ceremonies, field days, and more filled the calendar. The Mister and I felt a bit like we were playing that old Whack-a-Mole game—we’d attend, say, a Boy Scout Court of Honor and by the time we were home and pulling off our shoes another event had popped up. This T&C Mom needed some time to herself before school was out for the summer, so I took a day off to do a little exploring.

First stop was Roots, a garden store that opened just around the corner from us.

I strolled through their new courtyard, sipping coffee and admiring their bedding plants. I was really inspired by their welcoming container plantings for sun.And, I thought this was pretty for shade, although I wouldn’t do quite as many different kinds of plants. Some friends and I are planning to attend one of Roots “Wine & Design” workshops. If we can ever get together on a date, I will definitely post about it.

Next on my list of places to explore was an interesting-looking shop called Shinola. If you are imaginative—as I am, then you are sure that there are great antiques hidden in this sprawling, dark, and chaotic storehouse. If you are optimistic—as I am, then you are sure that the Queen Anne armchair you saw precariously perched atop two desks and a folded Persian carpet is probably 19th century.

And, if you are practical—as I am, then you will return wearing closed-toed shoes and old jeans—not sandals and capris—because this place is really, seriously dirty, and you’ve got to be dressed for the hunt.

I can’t wait.

Do you like to “dig through,” or are you a showroom shopper? Perhaps a little of both?

Remember.

2011-05-29T23:33:00.001-04:00

I am well aware of the toll, blood, and treasure that it will cost to maintain this Declaration and support and defend these States. Yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory. I can see that the end is worth more than all the means. --John Adams

Eternal God, we remember before you with grateful hearts the men and women of our country who in the day of decision ventured much for the liberties we now enjoy.

Lift the hearts of those for whom this holiday is not just diversion, but painful memory of their loved ones who have died performing selfless acts in service to their country.

Lord, help us to remember with compassion those heroes who are no longer with us, in our thoughts, our hearts, and our prayers.

Grant that we may not rest until all the people of this land share the benefits of true freedom and gladly accept its disciplines. This we ask in the Name of Jesus Christ, our Lord.

True Colors

2011-05-28T14:21:00.001-04:00

Here in the U. S. Monday, of course, is Memorial Day—a day set aside to remember those who gave their lives in service to our country. Celebratory parades and somber wreath-laying services can be found in almost every community, and both can be a wonderful way to express our gratitude and honor the sacrifices made.

Another way to honor those who have served is by displaying our flag. Not only is the flag a symbol of our country, it’s a festive way to brighten up your house for summertime.

Despite needing larger bunting beneath the windows and bigger flags (and more greenery!) in our urns, the Mister and I do like displaying the red, white, and blue for Memorial Day. And, we pull it all back out for the Fourth of July and Veteran’s Day, too!

Do you decorate in patriotic fashion?

GR33K to M3

2011-05-21T11:48:00.001-04:00

I doubt that I have a single drop of Greek blood coursing through my veins. For better or worse, I suppose I have more in common with Mrs. Miller, Toula’s future mother-in-law in the surprise hit film My Big Fat Greek Wedding than I do with Toula’s own mother and aunts. Greek women live life large—not just in the movies! I had a few friends with Greek heritage in high school, and I remember admiring their strong family ties, their vibrant community and church. Not to mention, their sleek dark hair, gorgeous skin and eyes. Big’s first best friend in nursery school was Constantine, and shortly after his younger brother was born, the family flew to Greece for George’s baptism. When I saw the amazing pictures, I admit I was a little jealous.

Happily, this weekend, even I can be Greek at Saint George’s annual Greek Festival. Tours of the beautiful downtown church are offered throughout the weekend.Greek music and dancing entertain the crowds late into the evening, but really, we all know the reason everyone wants to be Greek—the food! The gyros, the kabobs, the spanikopita, the dolmades, even the salad are so tasty!And, if you are stuffed when you leave—too much dining and not enough dancing perhaps—then you can always pick up a box of pastries to enjoy the next morning with piping hot coffee! It’s grand to be Greek for a day!

Next week is Greenville’s annual Scottish Games and Highland Festival at Furman University, but somehow the thoughts of haggis are not as appealing as baklava. Although, there will be shortbread . . .

What national heritages are celebrated in your community?

Garden Tour

2011-05-16T23:38:00.001-04:00

Dear friend D and I are in the preliminary stages of planning a trip to Charleston to visit the renowned Home and Garden Tour hosted by the city’s Preservation Society this fall. If you’ve been reading this blog very long, then you know T&C Mom loves planning and anticipating, and a girlfriends’ trip to Charleston that includes peeks into private homes and gardens—well, it’s just the perfect diversion amid all the end-of-the-school-year madness! In the meantime, I’ve cobbled together some garden pics that I’ve made the past couple of weeks. The older I get the more I appreciate a garden, of any type, really. I believe the human race was born of God in a garden, and I believe the beauty of the garden here on Earth foretells God’s glory to come.

Perhaps because my own yard gets only about 15 minutes of sun a day, I’m especially partial to shade-loving plants. These hostas are growing in the botanical gardens at Clemson University. Sharing a garden brings joy. How delightful it was to have some new friends (a couple at least 30 years older than the Mister and me) say, “Please, stop by and see our garden one afternoon.” We replied that we’d love to and asked when would be a good time. “Oh, come any time,” they said. “If we’re not there, then just look around and wander through.” And, that’s what we did! We jotted off a little note, thanking them for letting us see the fruits of their labors. And now, we’re invited back for iced tea in the garden. People who have gardens are generous. I think this is blue salvia. Lovely. Every garden needs a place to sit and be thankful.Indigenous oakleaf hydrangea was just opening its majestic spires when we visited.

Across Main Street from our little shop is a most lovely city park, Falls Park, with a river and waterfalls and a stunning pedestrian cable bridge. In the springtime, though, it’s the flowers and fragrance that make the park a treasure. Benches are plentiful, and I am blessed to enjoy my coffee or lunch outside here several days a week.The pansies and Johnny-jump-ups are near the end of their season, as the heat is beginning to make them a bit leggy. The marvelous French blue of these hydrangea is starting to intensify as the days lengthen and warm.Purple coneflowers, or echinacea, will soon have their lavender petals. The hardy daylily sings of the coming summer. Although not fragrant, she has the staying power to last until September. And, finally, back to the shade, where the trusty impatiens are the perfect foil to the broad hosta leaves. The impatiens add brightness to even the darkest corner.

The LORD will guide you always;
   he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
   and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
   like a spring whose waters never fail.-- Isaiah 58:11

Do you garden?

Tennessee Waltz

2011-05-15T23:22:00.001-04:00

A little more than a month ago, the Mister and I took Little and Middle to the Great State of Tennessee to visit my parents. Although it was early April, the weather turned chilly and drear, but nevertheless we had a grand time.

While the children enjoyed a sound spoiling by their grandparents (sleeping in, biscuits and gravy for breakfast), the Mister and I met my longtime friend, M, for coffee. M and I met in high school, and we have been friends ever since.

She is my straight-talking friend who can tell me I’m being whiny or unreasonable, and I know she’s telling me the truth. She will also tell me when I’m being taken advantage of or when I’m not having enough fun. She will tell me if a skirt is too short or a lipstick is too bright—before I buy it! I tell her all the same stuff when necessary, and—best of all—we make each other laugh uproariously! We used to talk almost daily; now sometimes weeks go by, but we always pick right back up. After a long coffee break with M that turned into lunch (thanks to the Mister for being so understanding!), the Mister and I headed south on I-75 to visit some friends and explore Chattanooga.Pardon me, boys . . . Yes, it’s the Chattanooga Choo-Choo. This iconic sign glows high above Chattanooga’s lovely downtown. The Chattanooga train depot, or terminal, is today a part of the Historic Hotels of America. Guests may stay in a standard room in the historic terminal or in one of 48 refurbished Victorian train cars.

Not far from the Choo-Choo is the beautiful and winding Tennessee River. Although Chattanooga was once a rather dirty, industrial town, city leaders along with corporate partners and private citizens have created one of the most attractive downtowns in the South, with beautiful green spaces, a thriving retail and dining district, and a fun and funky arts district, referred to as the North Shore. A huge walking bridge spans the river, connecting the retail and dining district with the arts district, which is nearby the noted Hunter Museum of Art. Near the bridge, the Delta Queen docks between dinner and sightseeing cruises.The Mister and I strolled a bit and even visited a large “antique” mall, which sadly was a huge disappointment, but we did find Chattanooga’s downtown grocery GreenLife, which provided a good place for a cup of coffee and a cookie.Shortly after, we met our friends, who like us, own a fair trade Go Fish store. After checking out their store and comparing notes on merchandising ideas, staff incentives, and other more boring business stuff, we walked to the nearby Urban Spoon, where we enjoyed a delicious Southern supper with a modern twist. Not on the menu, but prepared just for us that evening, was the chef’s invention of a Moon Pie banana pudding. Turns out that Chattanooga is the home of the classic Southern cookie, known as the Moon Pie. Although, I’m not its biggest fan, it made a wonderful substitution for the traditional Nilla Wafer. The Mister and I waddled to the car to head back to my folks’.

The next day, we went with my dad to visit my aunt and uncle who have recently moved to an apartment at a lovely retirement community. Although, it is an adjustment to leave their home and neighborhood, they are enjoying the views of the Great Smoky Mountains as well as the numerous activities available at their home. We spent the afternoon walking in the woods behind my parents’ house. Although the dogwoods had already shed their blossoms, it was still beautiful to be amid all the brilliant spring green of the Tennessee woods.

The property we walked has been in my father’s family since the 1830s, and it is one of his great joys to share the history he knows and the memories he has of the area. He is both sentimental and practical about his woods, as seen from his woodshed.He’s been selectively cutting timber to heat their house for more than 20 years, mostly hickory with the occasional oak.

If you are very lucky, you may receive a bundle of cured hardwood kindling for a Christmas present. An organized man, which he attributes to his time at sea with the U.S. Navy, he marks the wood as to the date the tree was cut and follows the first-in, first-out method for burning.

Although we visited in April, I was truly glad that it was still chilly enough for crackling fire that evening. And biscuits and gravy for breakfast.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Do you visit family often?

Market Share

2011-05-10T07:08:00.001-04:00

The Mister and I woke early on Saturday, excited to visit our downtown’s first Saturday Market of the season. We have a traditional year-round farmer’s market a short drive away, but for organic local produce and people-watching we love the Saturday Market.I’ve been blessed with Starbucks gift cards, so we started our morning with Pike Place blend before we walked a few blocks to the market. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Greenville looked spit-shined and ready for the day. An early-rising family was starting out on the 22-mile Swamp Rabbit Trail, but other than those folks, we didn’t see too many other people.

Possibly, this is because everyone else was already at the Market!

Lots of families with small children were buying their produce. Long lines of amiable shoppers had already formed for the homemade breads and fresh ground coffee.

Local strawberries are in, and those gems were at the top of my shopping list.

Along with spring greens.

And a variety of heirloom radishes.

Wouldn’t these be fine sliced and served with a wedge of feta or butter, some mint, and pita bread?

And, the Mister had to have some English peas. We also bought a jar of local honey before we strolled back to the car, bounty in hand.

And I spent a most enjoyable afternoon, sitting in the sun.

Just shelling peas.

Do you shop at a farmer’s market?

No disclaimers

2011-05-08T09:04:00.001-04:00

We have a tradition in the T&C household. Homemade cards, for all occasions. This orange envelope holds all the Mother’s Day cards, or most of them anyway. I suspect a few have gotten away over the past 19 years of motherhood. I treasure them all. Equally. Cards from all three, Big, Middle, and Little are wonderful. I love each of them. Equally. Lavishly. Preschool scribbles evolved into colorful, cheerful wishes. And I love them all, each one. Equally. I could never choose a favorite!However, speaking strictly from a design standpoint, Middle seems to have a undeniable creative bent. Or maybe twist is the more appropriate word.Regrettably, I did not date these cards. When you are young, you think you will remember who made what when. You won’t—at least not always. Middle made this at about age 12, I believe. He doesn’t remember why it says poop at the bottom. Clearly, the sentiment was heartfelt.

This year’s card has made me smile all morning.If you have ever mothered a high school boy, then you might know why he would choose this for his cover image.

And if you have ever been the son of a middle-aged mother, then I’m sure you know why he would add a disclaimer.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

High Hopes, I had High Hopes . . .

2011-05-06T21:48:00.001-04:00

Have you ever noticed how real life sometimes creeps into the blogosphere? After a fairly productive April, I was full-steam ahead ready for May, or so I thought.

Initally, I planned a short post on May Day, a holiday I actually grew up celebrating because of my elementary school’s annual May Day event. Beginning in January, we spent every gym class for weeks learning intricate folk dances for May Day. Finding an opposite sex partner and dancing together daily was—at the time—the most unappreciated part of my early education. Year after year I was always the tallest girl in the class, and my partner was always Mike S, the tallest boy. (We danced together for six years and recently re-connected on Facebook. Quite a hoot.) May Day was a huge event. Each grade dressed alike in costumes the mothers made, as in sewed. The first graders usually did some sort of line dance, but as we grew older we learned more complicated square dances, quadrilles, and contra dances. It was, however, only as sixth graders that we danced around the Maypole while the rest of the school, parents, and community watched.

Four poles, each with a different color of streamers—pink, yellow, green, and blue—stood against the bright blue sky. The girls wore dresses that matched the streamers, and the boys wore navy pants, white shirts, and ties to match the girls’ dresses. The boys who had to wear pink ties were always a little bitter. Nevertheless, it was kind of thrilling to stand on the asphalt, ribbon in hand, waiting for the needle to touch the vinyl disc that would send us in motion, ducking and weaving to braid the Maypole. As our circle of dancers grew tighter, I glanced up to see if our pole was properly checkered, signifying that we had performed flawlessly. It was, and later as we celebrated our skill, some of us also recognized that elementary school—one of the first chapters of our young lives—was drawing to a close.

May Day 2011 slipped right by, without a Maypole or nosegay in sight. Kind of sad. Still I hoped to redeem myself by posting a funny little piece on Star Wars Day.

May the Fourth be with you!

Star Wars Day rolled right on by, but don’t worry because a Cinco de Mayo menu post would be just the thing to redeem my neglected blog.

After all, who wouldn’t like some Zesty Lime Chicken? Ole!

I missed that deadline, too. Something about moving a boy home from college . . . .

So, here it is May 6. Tomorrow is the Kentucky Derby, “the most exciting two minutes in sports” and a really fun fashion parade, too.

I will not be posting about it, but I will be reading about it here at A Place to Dwell.

And, that brings us to Sunday, May 8, Mother’s Day. And with all the almost-posting I’ve done this past week, I’ll probably take the day off.

So, tell me, if you blog, how far ahead do you plan your posts, or do you write as the mood or inspiration strikes?

Prince Charming

2011-04-29T09:56:00.001-04:00

Somewhat unbelievably, Little did indeed join me to watch the Royal Wedding this morning. She came downstairs and snuggled up with me on the sofa sometime between the arrival of Queen Elizabeth and that of Kate Middleton.

We agreed that Kate looked beautiful, and that her dress was “a princess dress.”

I told Little that I was looking forward to seeing Prince William’s face when he saw his bride. And that was when Little asked her first slightly surprising question, “Which one is Prince William?”

To which I replied, “Prince William is the one in the red.”

And then, “Mama, why did she pick the bald one? I would’ve taken the one with hair.”

All the best to Princess Catherine and the one she chose!

Continental Breakfast

2011-04-28T23:58:00.001-04:00

I worked at a camp in the North Carolina mountains the summer Lady Diana Spencer wed Prince Charles.

The entire camp staff shared one television, which had rather spotty reception. To add insult to injury, the television was not located in my dorm, but rather in a mice-ridden frame cottage, euphemistically named the Staff Lounge. The Lounge, which I seldom frequented, was up a steep hill that I opted not to climb at 4:30 in the mountain dark morning.

Okay, it wasn't quite this bad, but it wasn't much better, either!

Besides it was Prince Charles. (Really, hasn't he aged much better than we'd thought?!)

I do plan to wake up and tiptoe downstairs to watch Kate Middleton and Prince William tie the knot. I have tea to brew and scones to nibble. Best of all, I have a companion who wants to watch with me. The Mister and Middle have been rolling their eyes at Little and me all week, and they will not rise early. Honestly, I might not either, so I'm setting the dvr, just in case. But something in me wants to see this wedding. At first, I thought it was just that I needed a diversion from the news cycle of war and high gas prices and mocking Presidential candidates and devastating natural disasters. And I do need a diversion from all that, but, honestly, I think it's something more. It may seem corny and naive to some, but I'm delighted that Kate and William are getting married, that despite their own tragedies, they are still willingly to stand before God and ask for His blessing. Willing to make a commitment. Amid all the pomp and hype, it seems almost humble. And hopeful. I'm grateful for that.

The Mister has been nosing around the scones this evening, so I promised a rather British dessert to celebrate. This recipe, which allegedly was invented in that most revered of English boarding schools, is adapted from those of Ina Garten and Jamie Oliver.

Eton Mess

Ingredients
2 (6-ounce) packages fresh raspberries, divided
1/2 cups plus 1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 cup cold heavy cream
1 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
5 to 6 (2-inch) bakery meringue shells, broken in pieces
fresh strawberries, blueberries, blackberries chopped coarsely (optional)

Pour 1 package of the raspberries, 1/2 cup of the sugar, and the lemon juice into a 10-inch saute pan. Crush the berries lightly with a fork and bring the mixture to a full boil over medium-high heat. Lower the heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is syrupy. Fold the remaining package of raspberries (and other fresh berries, if desired) into the hot mixture and refrigerate until very cold.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the cream, the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar, and the vanilla together on medium-high speed until it forms firm peaks.

In decorative glasses, layer a spoonful of the whipped cream, a spoonful of the raspberry mixture, and then a few meringue pieces. Repeat once or twice, depending on the size of the glasses, until the glasses are full, ending with berries and a dollop of cream. Serve immediately or chill for an hour, until ready to serve.

May the marriage be as grand as the wedding!

First Flight

2011-04-25T10:49:00.001-04:00

We had a lovely Easter at the T&C House.

On Saturday, there was limited interest in coloring eggs, but Little helped me set up the dye. Middle joined in, and wowed us with his egg-dying skills.

In the T&C House, the Easter Bunny not only hides eggs, he also hides the baskets. In fact, this year that was all he hid! He is pretty clever in his hiding places as Middle discovered.

After attending church for a wonderful time of worship, we returned home and were joined by a few family and friends for a traditional Southern Easter meal of ham, sweet potato souffle, deviled eggs, roasted asparagus, sweet and sour green beans,scratch macaroni and cheese, and Sister Schubert’s rolls. We washed it down with sweet tea, and then we brewed some coffee and indulged in homemade butter cream eggs.

After such a meal, some of us napped, but at all times we had a sentinel posted on the side porch, keeping an eye on these guys. Orville, Wilbur, and Amelia—our feathered friends

They’ve kept us entertained all spring, and we eagerly await first flight!

Eggs, Scrambled

2011-04-22T23:59:00.001-04:00

When I began planning my Easter dinner table, I decided to deviate from our usual springtime setting. Most often for Easter, I pull out the Haviland (see it here) and set the table with pale pastels or all in whites and creams. This year, though, inspired by a 50th birthday brunch I attended a few weeks ago, I decided to scramble (sorry!) it up a bit. I’m using the trusty Blue Willow, which we eat from most often, and adding some cheerful blue-and-white accessories. (These photos aren’t the best as it was so gloomy outside this morning that there wasn’t much natural light.)

I started with "Bunzilla" and added a few other moss rabbits, some hydrangea blossoms, and several decoupage eggs. Then I remembered the giant blue goblets, which we haven’t used since summer. Next came the toile placemats and festive print napkins, and, of course, the old Blue Willow. The decoupage eggs came in handy for the place cards, which I scratched off quickly with a blue Sharpie. As a friend of mine is fond of saying, “These are the prototypes.” Still, you get the idea.

Finally, I placed a few blue chocolates in a sterling mint dish at each setting. My good friend Nancy gave me this idea years ago, and I have had such fun collecting these little treasures.

Tomorrow I’ll be cooking and entertaining and finishing the incredible butter cream eggs that Miss Summer Is a Verb was kind enough to share. Although the eggs are absolutely sinful, those little delights will bring even more joy to our Easter table.

Are you hosting family and friends this weekend?

What Language Shall I Borrow?

2011-04-22T13:12:00.002-04:00

     O sacred Head, now wounded, 
 with grief and shame weighed down, 
 now scornfully surrounded 
 with thorns, thine only crown: 
 how pale thou art with anguish, 
 with sore abuse and scorn! 
 How does that visage languish 
 which once was bright as morn! 

 What thou, my Lord, has suffered 
 was all for sinners' gain; 
 mine, mine was the transgression, 
 but thine the deadly pain. 
 Lo, here I fall, my Savior! 
 'Tis I deserve thy place; 
 look on me with thy favor, 
 vouchsafe to me thy grace. 

 What language shall I borrow 
 to thank thee, dearest friend, 
 for this thy dying sorrow, 
 thy pity without end? 
 O make me thine forever; 
 and should I fainting be, 
 Lord, let me never, never 
 outlive my love for thee.

Choral music and images, Kings College.  Video courtesy of Youtube.

Spring Green Supper

2011-04-20T22:06:00.000-04:00

The weather has been warm and breezy the past few days, and so I decided it was time to have our first spring supper on the deck. The menu was simple and healthy, and--almost unbelievably--everyone ate everything with no complaints, even though it was a decidedly "green" meal.

The inspiration for our supper came from a birthday brunch buffet I attended earlier in the month. The hostess served a number of rich and incredibly delicious dishes, but one of my favorites was a humble pasta salad. The salad was so tasty, full of earthy spring goodness. Of course, I came home and began searching both online and "on shelf" for a similar recipe. Not surprisingly, it was Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, who came to my rescue.

Although the recipe calls for two types of pasta, I decided that I'd use a full box, rather than leave two half boxes of noodles on the pantry shelf. I had whole grain penne on hand, and that worked fine. Basil pesto is a key ingredient in this dish, and the recipe suggests that commercially prepared pesto is suitable. Truly, the overall dish was extremely tasty, but I couldn't help thinking how much better it would have been if I'd had fresh, homemade pesto on hand. I will definitely make this again later in the summer with homemade pesto. The original recipe also calls for frozen spinach, but I used fresh and found that it worked very well.

Spinach and green peas combine with the pesto and--get this--a dollop of mayonnaise to make a really delicious main dish. Of course, it would be a great side dish for grilled chicken or fish, too.

I plan to add asparagus when I make this again. I served it with sliced cantaloupe and strawberries, which everyone loved.

Here's the recipe:

16 oz penne pasta, cooked and drained
1/4 cup olive oil
1 bag fresh spinach, washed and drained
1 1/2 cups pesto, homemade or prepared (I used Stonewall Kitchens brand.)
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 cup Duke's mayonnaise (the original recipe calls for a cup and a half!)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan
1 1/2 cups frozen peas, defrosted
salt and pepper to taste

Cook the pasta in a large pot of boiling water until done. Drain and toss into a large serving bowl with the olive oil. Add the spinach and stir gently until the spinach is slightly wilted. Add the pesto, lemon juice, and mayonnaise. Next add the peas and Parmesan. Mix well, season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve at room temperature.

What's your favorite meal to eat outside?

Eggs, Over Easy

2011-04-15T15:00:00.002-04:00

I don't particularly think of myself as the crafty type. I gave up using a hot glue gun more than 20 years ago. I needlepoint, but only on car trips or while at the beach. Still, every now and then--usually around a holiday, I find myself inspired to make something. This spring while noodling around at my ~~friend's~~, ~~acquaintance's~~, er, design guru Eddie Ross's blog, I found the directions for making some simple, yet elegant, Easter eggs.

The eggs featured on Eddie's blog are lovely green-and-white graphic orbs, reminiscent of a Jonathan Adler print. Of course, I didn't want to copy Eddie, so since I collect Blue Willow, Canton, and blue Staffordshire, I decided to make my eggs blue and white.

This project is easy peasy, however, if you are a perfectionist, it can get a bit tedious. After about the third egg, I decided I was not a perfectionist, and that made the whole project a lot more fun!

You will need some Mod Podge, which is almost as much fun as hot glue but without the pain and cursing, a small soft paintbrush, and some plastic eggs. I found some white ones at Hobby Lobby, a dozen on sale for 35 cents! If you can't find white eggs, then I think pale pastels would work fine.

You will also need some sharp scissors and some beautiful paper cocktail napkins. As I am rather a fiend about cocktail napkins, I found what I needed in my napkin drawer. (Please, it's not hurting anyone.)

Gather your supplies and cover your work space with some newspaper or other protective covering.

Begin by separating the napkins. Then cut the printed napkin into small (about one by one inch) diamond shapes. I found the easiest and quickest way to do this was to fold the napkin, cut a zig zag line, and then cut back again in the opposite direction. You will also want to cut a few triangles. I was able to complete three eggs from a single napkin this way.

Once your napkin is cut into diamonds, thinly apply the Mod Podge to the egg in sections.

Then, attach the diamond of paper to the egg and lightly coat the top of the paper with Mod Podge, smoothing out any wrinkles.

Tap down the edges, and apply the next diamond. I used the straight sides of triangles to edge the rims of the eggs. It would be easier to close the egg and do it as a solid form, but for some reason, I thought I wanted to be able to open my eggs. If you are using a toile or similar type design, I strongly recommend not trying to match up the design. Once the egg is covered in paper, lightly coat the entire egg (or the halves) in Mod Podge. This will provide a smoother finish. Set the egg aside to dry and begin the next egg or pour a glass of wine and watch Selling New York on HGTV.

Seriously, I finished a dozen eggs in about two hours. I love that they are a bit of a riff on transferware dishes, and I plan on using them in my Easter table setting, which I'll post about next week.

Happy weekend, everyone!

I'm linking up to Savvy Southern Style for Wow Us Wednesdays! and to At the Picket Fence Sister Saturday Easter Edition!

Hippity, hoppity, Easter’s on its way!

2011-04-12T21:50:00.001-04:00

The Mister and Middle took off this past weekend for beautiful Hunting Island, a barrier island off the South Carolina coast, where they camped and fished with Middle’s Boy Scout troop. Much to Little’s dismay, I took advantage of their absence to do some spring cleaning. My reward after cleaning was to pull out the spring decorations, in hopes of freshening up the indoors.

Spring is at its full, frothy peak in the Carolinas, with azaleas, pink and white dogwoods, tulips, and iris proclaiming the glory of God, and I am in awe of the renewal and promise of life this season brings. Of course, the indoors can’t begin to compete with the wonder outdoors, but perhaps, it can make us smile and even urge us out into the sunshine.

If you were a reader of Town and Country Mom this past fall (and thank you very much if you were), then you might have read my fall decorating “rules,” here. My spring rules are even simpler: No fake flowers. No plastic Easter grass. Our house should not look like a gift shop. I realize that last one is in the eye of the beholder. I try to be tasteful, but, some things my children have loved since they were young, and they expect to see those decorations every year. I happily comply. On the sideboard: paper grass on a silver tray with speckled eggs and fake candy bunnies.

On the dining table: glass hurricanes with speckled eggs in creams and blues and palest pinks

On the chest in the front hall: more speckled eggs in blue, pink, and lavender pastels

In the family room: moss bunnies, speckled eggs, paper grass, and papier mache carrots in an old wooden tray

In the kitchen: more moss bunnies and one concrete rabbit, affectionately nicknamed Bunzilla. (Don’t tell anyone, but that biscuit barrel is hiding Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs.)

More Easter decorations may be seen at Hoppin Down the Bunny Trail.

Do you decorate for spring or Easter? I’d love to hear your ideas!

One fish, two fish, red fish . . .

2011-04-08T11:30:00.012-04:00

Or white fish, actually, works perfectly in this healthy and simple dish. It's easy enough for a weeknight, but with a little effort in the presentation department, it can be an elegant company meal, as well. The recipe was given to me by the Mister's college roommate's wife years ago. She served it to us after we had spent a fun day boating on Tampa Bay.

Photo courtesy of Petit Chef

Kim's Fish on Spinach

Lightly coat a 9 x 13 inch baking dish with nonstick cooking spray. Layer the following ingredients in the order they are listed:

two tomatoes, sliced, or a cup of grape tomatoes, halved

one pound fresh spinach, washed and dried

one cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves

fish filets, one per person (red fish, sea bass, tilapia, or similar)

Drizzle with the juice of two lemons, then sprinkle filets with:

1/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs

1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

two garlic cloves, minced

salt and pepper to taste

Bake at 400 for 20 minutes or so, until fish is firm and flakes easily. Serve with rice or couscous.

And now, please tell me, if you made Kim's Fish on Spinach for company, what would you serve for dessert?

Reach out, reach out and touch someone

2011-04-08T00:20:00.000-04:00

If you're of a certain age, you may remember when the corporation now known simply as ATT, broadcast a commercial that urged us all to "reach out, reach out and touch someone" via American Telephone & Telegraph's long-distance service. As I recall, the commercials were kind of endearing. Now, of course, ATT is all about fiber optics and networks and data streaming and, well, now I'm in over my head . . . .

The point of this rambling post is to say that after much diagnostic testing of my laptop, it turns out the trouble was with my network. And tonight, a techie named "Leonard," who I suspect lives in India, was--after an hour and a half of asking me to "kindly click on restore" and "kindly click on re-set" on about 3,100 various dialog boxes--able to troubleshoot my problem. "Thank you for choosing AT&T."

Yes, indeed, not having internet service has been an inconvenience for me, but not being treated as inconvenience was quite refreshing.

More posts to come.

I've been saving up.

A Cake Walk

2011-03-31T18:00:00.000-04:00

Cake was served in my honor today. And it's not even my birthday. I'm leaving a part-time job, only I'm not completely leaving for a few more months. It's kind of confusing and an explanation would be boring, but, really a cupcake would've sufficed. Instead there was a big sheet cake with--and as Dave Barry would say, "I'm not making this up,"--We love you, Town and Country Mom! (only it was really my first name; no one there knows I blog). Seriously, the cake did not say Good Luck or Best Wishes, but We Love You! I have to say it was kind of touching for me, a part-timer. I just think everyone likes an excuse to eat a little cake.

My laptop is in the hospital, which I hope explains my lack of posts this past week. Honestly, I haven't had too much to write about; but I have managed to read a few books. One I enjoyed is Confections of a Closet Master Baker by Gesine Bullock-Prado. When I picked this up at the library, I had no idea that Mrs. Bullock-Prado was actress Sandra Bullock's sister. Mrs. Bullock-Prado recounts her story of leaving Hollywood and opening a small bakery in Vermont, where she and her husband endure many of the same business ups and downs common to all small service-oriented establishments. More interesting to me were her memories of her childhood in Europe and her German mother and their relationships with food, particularly sweets. And, yes, there are recipes.

I'm not exactly sure why (serious lack of telephone orders, perhaps?), but Mrs. Bullock-Prado's memoir will be published in paperback and sold under the title My Life From Scratch, which is, admittedly, a lot less embarrassing to say aloud.

In the meantime, my favorite quick, not too sweet cake:

1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar, divided
1 cup all-purpose flour
5 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
1 1/2 tablespoons instant espresso powder, divided
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup evaporated skimmed milk
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup boiling water

Combine 1/2 cup sugar, flour, 2 Tbsp cocoa, 1 Tbsp espresso powder, baking powder, and baking soda in a medium bowl; stir well. Combine milk, oil, and vanilla; add to flour mixture and stir well. Spoon batter into an 8-inch square baking pan.

Combine remaining 1/2 cup brown sugar, 3 Tbsp cocoa, and 1/2 Tbsp espresso powder; stir well. Sprinkle over batter.

Pour boiling water over batter (do not stir!). Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until cake springs back when touched lightly. Serve warm or at room temperature.

What is your favorite cake?

Images: Diana's Bakery, Amazon, Cooking Club of America

What, what is a weekend?

2011-03-25T18:19:00.000-04:00

Terribly sorry I haven't posted this past week.

You see, Lady Town and Country, er, I mean Town and Country Mom came rather late to the party at Downton Abbey, and she used all her usual writing time soaking up the brilliant Masterpiece Classic! Really, waiting until September for the next episodes seems impossible! Thank heaven for Netflix!

This wonderful clip features one of my favorite lines from the series. No one but Maggie Smith could play Lady Dowager Violet Crawley.

No one.

And, what will become of the beautiful and cunning sisters, Syblil, Mary, and Edith?

I think Elizabeth McGovern is delightful as Lady Cora Crawley, and Lady Cora handles her mother-in-law with true Yankee ingenuity.

Once I finished watching the seventh episode, I went straight to the PBS website where I found this interesting interview with the series creator Julian Fellowes.

So, tell me, are you a Downton Abbey fan?

And, if you are, please tell me how you are getting your Brit fix between now and September!

Virginia is for lovers

2011-03-19T11:12:00.001-04:00

Or so they say. We’ll see, as the Mister and I set out for a weekend away. Alone.

Sort of.

We’re heading to northern Virginia to cheer on Middle’s lacrosse team as they play one of the East Coast’s top teams. So, that will be fun—unless it’s cold and rainy, but I’m thinking positive.

We’re staying at a Starwood Resort, so that will be nice. We’re planning to stop in Charlottesville for a look around, and we might visit Monticello, although we’ve both been before.

So, dear readers, I’m looking for advice about what else to see in the Charlottesville area besides lacrosse.

Do you know of any great antiques shops?

And, of course, tell me your favorite place to get a bite!

Thank you in advance. I can’t wait to hear your recommendations!

images:

National Parks Traveler, Red Raider Lacrosse, Monticello, Circa, Feast

Hope springs eternal

2011-03-17T22:44:00.001-04:00

I’m kind of neutral about flying. I don’t really fly that often, only a few times a year, which is probably why I don’t mind it too much. On the downside, I’m slightly claustrophobic. And, of course, there’s the food and re-circulating air and general germy-ness of the whole endeavor. Here’s the thing, though, whenever I fly I am almost always seated next to someone incredibly interesting.

A couple of months ago, on the way to Peru I had the dreaded “middle middle” seat in coach. To my left, the Mister dozed companionably. To my right, a charming Japanese grandmother, recently widowed, shared her story of coming to California in her 20s, marrying an Irishman from Boston, and raising a family in the Northeast. We talked about food, about travel, about gardens, about our children, and our faith. Even after 40 some years in the U.S., her accent was thick, and, at times I wasn’t sure what she was saying. And yet, we understood each other.

As you might have guessed, in light of the tragic events of this past week, I can’t stop thinking of her, praying for her and her family, many of whom still live in Japan.

Organized by Samaritan’s Purse, a 747 cargo jet filled with 90 tons of emergency supplies, including heavy-duty plastic shelter materials departs for Japan tomorrow. To help, click here.

Many bloggers are joining tomorrow’s Day of Silence for Japan. I plan to do the same.

Top image, courtesy nih.gov Others from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Top O' the Morning Prayer

2011-03-17T10:10:00.002-04:00

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ in breadth, Christ in length, Christ in height,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, through belief in the Threeness, through confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation. Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of Christ. May Thy Salvation, O Lord, be ever with us.

--excerpt from the Lorica, traditional morning prayer commonly known as the Breastplate of St. Patrick, although not attributed to him.