Cats, Sticks and Books

THIS is a Day Worth Noting.

2009-11-10T07:53:00.003-06:00

OK, PEOPLE -- pay attention!

Today is the 40th birthday of Sesame Street. Programs come and go (don't we just know it, and if they ever bring "Firefly" back I'll watch) but Television is like that little girl: "There was a little girl, who had a tiny curl, right in the middle of her forehead." (If you're Of An Age, say the rest with me now...)

"When she was good, she was very VERY good,

And when she was bad, she was...HORRID!"

(Love writing that, for the nostalgia - my mother said it a lot - and for the chance to use the much-underused word "horrid".)

Now, I agree with Mr Dearling to a great degree when he says that television has wrought more woe than good in all these years. Mark you, I have HAD television in my home most of my adult life. There was a time there when I got rid of ours in a fit of Hippie-ness, and we all managed very well. Then we got a card in the mail saying we should go to Sears to collect a present from my generous sister,which proved to be a brand-new color television. I had to agree, it was pretty nice. Made the Shakespeare plays on public teevee fabulous.

But back to Sesame Street: I allowed my children to watch it. I encouraged my children to watch it, and in fact often watched it with them. I'll say it right here in public: I propped my Youngest up in his babyseat in front of it.

I think it was a brilliant and wonderful show, and I'd forgotten about it pretty much for the last few years, other than knowing it was still with us. There was also "Electric Company", which took my youngsters a little forward in their learning. I just remembered that I have a DVD somewhere with some Electric Company episodes on it - I want to get it out for my grandsons.

I'm going to tape me some Sesame Street this week to see how it's aged, but I still APPROVE. And call me an old curmudgeon (I won't argue) but I do NOT like that stoopid square sponge thing, which I find poorly-drawn, unattractive and abrasive, and unfortunately my youngest grandson has toted up many hours of his infancy planted in front of it. I would NEVER describe one of my own darlings as "slack-jawed" but I don't care for his demeanor when he's watching that. I do not fear permanent damaage, his parents are bright and clever and besides Mr Dearling and I are his grandkin. But that sponge is no Big Bird.

So - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Sesame Street! Long may you wave........oh, and thanks for a lot of hours of laughter and fun and learning you brought my children (and the quiet time for ME, o bless yer little red hearts).

Home Again!

2009-11-08T23:33:00.004-06:00

Had a truly WONDERFUL time at NAVC. There's much to be said for seeing friends, especially ones you only see once...maybe twice a year. Much to be said for friends who have disturbed imaginations and live considerable blocks of time in the 18th or early 19th centuries.

After some 2-3 hours of TRULY panicked attempts to organize my notes, fill in some blanks and improve my talk, it was delivered at 3:00 pm on Saturday. Pretty good-sized crowd, actually (OY VEY IZ MEER!). I felt inadequate; thought it was choppy, not sequential, lame and feeble. Stood amazed, watching myself from "outta the body" and thinking "Who is this moron, and why does she know nothing?"

HOWEVER. Several people came up and said they'd enjoyed it, and there was one lady who said my theory of human beings requiring aesthetics was GENIUS! That did much for my feelings, I am here to tell you.

Briefly (in case anyone's interested) here's that theory, inspired by stuff I thought about during some 4th-grader tours at the Museum. Goes like this:

Everyone needs food, clothing, shelter, air and water, to sustain our bodies and maintain our very lives. No arguments there.

But I postulate (am I using that right?) that there is a sixth Human Need; while a lack of it might not actually cause the life to flow out of us, leaving us a little pile of empty clay like no food or water will, it must be a very basic thing indeed: this is "the need for lovely (or ornamental, decorative, aesthetically-pleasing) things. I base this on an inspiration that came to me looking at a many-hundreds-of-years-old clay pot made by the paleo-Indians who lived here in Wisconsin.

It's decorated. Very SIMPLY-decorated, but decorated nonetheless. SO I says to myself, "Self? I postulate that the decorated pot proves up my theory." To the kids I says, says I: "Does the food cooked in this pot taste better than it would if the pot were plain? (Insert chorus of young voices saying "Noooooo" here.) "Would the water in the clay pot be more refreshing if it were plain?" (See above.) "BUT!" says I, "wouldn't the woman who made it and all her family and friends take more pleasure in looking at it than if it were plain?"

And then they get it, and I'm usually satisfied to note that the adults along are looking like they get it too, all smiling and nodding and stuff.

Furthermore, in a true "mouths-of-babes" moment, one of the little tykes observed, "Couldn't it also show WHOSE pot it was?" I would've gladly taken the kid out for pizza then and there. "YES!" says I, overcome with the Sharp Degree of Getting-It-ness the kid showed.

That theory was what wowed my Mrs.-Non-Reenactor-at-the-Program. That, coupled with the statement (true) that the whole long extensive fascinating, earth-and-life-changing Fur Trade was initiated because of FASHION really tripped her trigger.

Going into Tour Guide Teacher mode: the beaver hats that were SO desired in France and England....the hats that inspired explorers and traders and hunters to come to the New World to find them in abundance -- those hats were NOT wanted because of any of their virtues other than STYLE. Add to that the fact that 60% of the trade items were of like aesthetic value primarily (cloth, silk ribbon, trade silver brooches, glass beads) and you have the universality of human beings, red AND white, to look cool. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So my lecture was poorly-delivered and scatty all over the place, but inspirational to one attendee and apparently (to my great relief) at least interesting to the others, and it seems to have been successful in some regard.

And it's DONE! Delivered, presented, lecturized and PAST TENSE! Therefore, I will now resume regular programming, and I am about to hunker down and WRITE. I have a few thousand NaNoWriMo words to get under my belt........and a few pages of my "real novel", as my Writing Group meets tomorrow. So no new word count to post tonight, but watch this space!

See that Wire?

2009-11-06T10:52:00.004-06:00

Well, I do. I'm down to it. It's nearly 11:00 am and I'm off to my conference. It will only take me about 45 minutes to get there. I can settle my things in our room (Mr Dearling tells me it's quite comfy...albeit "dormitory style" and he told me where the extra earplugs are; seems we're sharing quarters with a herd of buffalo.)

Then I will have some time to finish up and polish my lecture-presentation which is scheduled for 3:00 pm tomorrow. OH -- for those of you who may not be familiar with my peculiar North Dakota accent, a translation:

"finish up" = start looking through the material I have and making notes which must then be arranged into a cohesive order;

"polish" = START WORKING ON IT!!

Now...srsly, it's not quite that bad. I have an outline and some stuff to plug into it. But it suddenly appears to me that I may a great DEAL of very neat stuff that I may not have time to plug in. You know, the material that could've been really useful if I had been working on this all along, as I should have.

It's not that bad though, really. I am ~~stupidly~~ -- uhm... ~~denying the fact that~~ .... confident that I will have an interesting presentation, and that my friends will be entertained and pleased.

And now I have to go feed the unicorn and make sure there are new leaf slippers for the faeries.......

On the OTHER hand: Word Count to date: 11085 .

PLENTY to do!

2009-11-04T18:33:00.004-06:00

The minutes are ticking by -- on account of, that's what they do. And I have finished everything I need to do this evening EXCEPT packing for NAVC (easy, actually...quick) and finishing polishing up the den for our overnight guest. That's going to be quick too (it's called "shove it in the rubbermaid bin and take it down the basement"). VERY efficient. Run the vacuum around, pull down the futon and fit it with bedding -- done. (Insert big grin here.)

I'm looking forward to spending a LITTLE time with our guest, anyway - we're leaving tomorrow for the camp, but I imagine we'll have a nice conversation and cup of tea tonight. He's coming from Alaska (!) and I think that's two hours earlier so although his body arrives at 8:00 pm, his MIND will be arriving at 6:00 pm.

My presentation is going to be good. I still have a lot I want to do to polish it up but I think I have at least a little handle on it, and I'm fairly confident that it'll be interesting and entertaining, at least. Now - being as there ARE going to be people using PowerPoints I don't feel bad about taking Hermione with me ("Hermione" = eeepc netbook) so that when the 18th century folks have gone to bed I can whup her out and write on my novel.

Lest ye think that all this activity has led me to ignore my NaNo novel.......get this: at the funerary ceremony to bury the person who died before? My main character has just discovered that it may be....that it will be necessary to bury her baby (remember the birth?) WITH HER!! {{time allowed for great intake of gasping breath}} I KNOW!! I had no idea either!

I'm confident in my main character, though, he strikes me as the type to Do the Right Thing (after all, did he not take all his clothes off already?). We'll just have to see what happens next......and remember, I have no better idea than you do.

So - final count this evening: 8,020 words.

It's all in the PICTURES!

2009-11-03T20:41:00.003-06:00

I just figured out the biggest stumbling block preventing me from being a better Blogger (say THAT three times fast!). It's pictures......it's that I feel like I should have a few pictures in here to make it visually interesting, more attractive, &c. The problem is, it really does take me a while to get the pictures downloaded to Daisy and then resized and renamed and cropped and automatic-brightened-ified, and then put into the blog and repositioned and..........

Get the picture? (No pun intended...no wait, yes it was. Nevermind.) SO! For the next while, anyway, I'm going to write more and put in pictures less or not at all. I'm a little pressed for time for the next week on the one hand, and month on the other hand, so the pictures are going to be eschewed. BOY have I looked for an excuse to use that word.

Now then -- in the last month I have experienced the births of TWO babies to museum colleagues. Both were boys, both were first babies - and both are, if their pictures are indicative, just powerful handsome lads. The first was apparently born purple and then promptly turned red; he was born just before the Packer-Vikings game, and was determined to be an equal-opportunity fan. I have knitted him three caps: one was Badger red-and-white; one was Packer green-and-gold; the third was Viking purple-and-white. (I consulted with his Da, who approved the plan.)

TONIGHT, as a matter o' fact, I mean to knit a Badger cap and Packer cap for the other new boy. My friend Donna is coming over for our weekly "knit" (she crochets) and I 1) need a respite from my current project (see below); and 2) can finish both while we watch my few taped episodes of "Real Housewives of Wherever it Was". (I know, "I'm not the proper demographic for those shows." Nevermind.) The pattern, found by googling (I can't write or say that without chuckling) is called something like "Shower's in an Hour". Takes a tiny bit longer than that, but not much.

Also, in the last month, I lost a particularly dear friend, one whose extended family I consider my OWN extended family. He was a reenactor (medieval, fur trade, Civil War) and a renaissance man in the best way. He was artistic (he made laser-cut portraits in wood among MANY other things in many other ways). He had been a fireman and policeman (I learned this at the memorial; Joe was a lot of things but NEVER braggart). He had a radio show and was a proud, skillful and dedicated HAM radio operator, too. He did some writing, made MIGHTY-FINE barbecue and it seems to me I had some exceptional chili out by his place one time.

Joe had cancer; it's not like we didn't know this was coming -- of course, we ALL know it's coming, but that didn't make the loss any easier. I was struck by the symmetry, though - one of the babies mentioned above was born either the same day or the next day of his death.

So goes the Sacred Hoop, and I know that. Interesting when sorrow and joy pile up on each other like that.

OTHERWISE, here's what I'm doing right this very minute: preparing for a program to be delivered at NAVC this coming weekend. "NAVC" is the North American Voyageurs' Council - it's a weekend-long gathering of Fur Trade reenactors, some local and some from far away, and rather than a reenactment it's actually a series of programs and lectures, workshops and socializing. Some years it's been held at Fort William in Ontario, and it's been at Mr Sayer's Post (Pine City, MN) and this year it's down a bit south of home, so it's a short commute.

We're staying over, of course, because like many of our reenactments, they are true rendezvous in that we see friends who come together only once.........or perhaps twice.... a year. We don't want to go home at night and miss the opportunity for a good chinwag.

Now, the participants and presenters are "armchair historians" -- and let me tell you, they're MUCH better informed than anyone who comes by their knowledge under the aegis of Academia (another fine expression, wouldn't you say?). These folks are EXPERTS, and far better informed than most folks with their diplomas and certificates.

OK, so last year I volunteered to present a program on "Marriage in the Fur Trade" -- one aspect of the business was that cultures were exchanged along with the furs and axes and beads; the French and French-Canadians married native girls and had Metis children. "Metis" is defined as "mixed blood, of combined French or French-Canadian and Native American ancestry." Fascinating topic, one I think about a lot (portraying as I do the native wife of a voyageur) and one about which I have some very fine books in my library.

Remember I said I volunteered to prepare this program, at NAVC last year? Yeah well, all year while at weddings and so on, I've been blithely telling myself "No worries, darn thing isn't until November." Ladies and gennulmens, I draw your attention to that calendar on your wall, the one hanging right there above your computer. See what it says? If you haven't looked at it in a couple of days it might say "OCTOBER". (Operative words: couple of days). If you HAVE, why then it says -- all together now:

NOVEMBER

So the time to complete the presentation is -- last April. But....seems I didn't do it. So I'm doing it NOW. THIS MINUTE. (Ooops....wait...right now I'm blogging. But you know what I mean.) So I have a matter of HOURS (interspersed with stuff like going to the Museum, sleeping, going to the bif....) to lay out, study, practice and polish this presentation. And might I add, when I'm NOT actually working on it, these minutes, I assure it's foremost in my mind, standing hand-in-hand with blind panic.

There is a Saving Grace: I realized, in the throes of sweaty terror last night, while I was trying to sort out some facts, that: a) my audience are people whom I know, friends, fellow reenactors; b) they're not there to be educated, to get the PhD-level information; they're there to be informed, entertained, and to share thoughts and ideas; c) I'll get a lot further in these last hours of preparation by pulling out the bits I find fascinating, interesting -- and by ENJOYING the process. I had an epiphany: if I don't have fun preparing this, I won't have fun presenting it....and my friends sure as HECK won't have any fun listening to it. That went a LONG way toward my having a good talk ready when the time comes.

And the other thing I'm doing now is: the aforementioned NaNoWriMo. In case you missed it (I can wait while you go follow the link, if you like....) it's an annual Challenge to write a 50,000-word novel between 120:01 AM on November 1 through midnight on November 30. In order to achieve this, one must write 1,667 words a day; of course, if you write more than that one day you can write fewer the next -- that's the average . Mind you, it's QUANTITY you're after, NOT QUALITY.

You might think that ANYone who would sign on for such a thing is ~~totally screwed~~ .... ~~severely demented~~ .....a tad unusual. But it's huge fun, and a great exercise, and is actually a thrilling and fascinating thing to do.

Unless one is preparing an hour-long program on a topic with which one has only the thinnest information at the start. What I have in my head: the French and French-Canadian traders and trappers married native girls, which resulted in the rich exchange of culture amid the furs and kettles, the axes and silk ribbons.

That won't take an hour to say. Hence, the above-mentioned labor.

Having said that, I am now going to return to my studies...but with the intention (and boy oh BOY am I going to have an easy slide to Hell) of blogging here now and again, albeit devoid of any photos , for which I beg your indulgence.

Now then, hand me my copy of Many Tender Ties , which is a pleasurable read as well as being a rich source of the very information I need.

Oh -- and I'll post my word counts at the end of each post, even if not daily.

Current word count: 5,426

And still it turns....

2009-10-26T13:01:00.013-05:00

...the Wheel of Life. If I put in everything I've been up to, doing, seeing, hearing and eating since I last posted you would a) be here until NEXT Monday; and b) give up and go make a sandwich. So what you're going to have here is oddments, bits, reflections and observations. And my intention to settle in and keep up better than I have been. I attribute it to Summer with all its vagaries of activity, travel and so on. Now it is, surely as I sit here, AUTUMN. My favorite season, it's the time when I gather my stuff around me and prepare to hunker down for the winter.

"Hunkering down" involves vast amounts of hot tea, piles of delicious books, hours of knitting - often accompanied by movie-watching, and generally being inside because of snow, for which I am most earnestly wishing. Don't get me wrong, I don't like driving in winter much, but if we really have to go somewhere Mr. Dearling ("Fearless Driver") takes care of it. For my part (and I've said this before) I drive through town in the winter rather than on our Beltline, as I adhere to the thought that, if I slide off the road, I mean for it to land me in someone's yard who will make me a cup of hot tea and say "Tsk Tsk" a lot after calling Mr. Dearling and AAA. If I'm lucky they'll have cats and a big afghan too. Just sayin'.

Now then - first things first.

This stunning portrait is Le Papa, typifying the elegance that is Steam Punk. As it turns out, he's fine-looking in any historical period, but this is "what it is."

Here we see L'Oncle (on the left), La Maman in the center, and on the right, Le Papa again. They were in one of the myriad little out-of-the-way nooks and crannies in the mysterious site of the wedding, and all was lantern-lit and dim, adding to the wonderful ambience. The googles on L'Oncle are almost du rigeur for Steam Punk, and my friend J. was resplendent in her turn-of-the-century stylish frock and hat. As for M. - well, some men can wear hats and some cannot. Of those who CAN, some are restricted to only one type. (Mr. Dearling looks fabulous in his toque!) But M.? The top hat speaks for itself and he sports a tricorn with every bit as much fashion.

And here you see....

...my darling girls. On the right, L., who played American Girls with me (she'll ever be remembered fondly for that, probably to her frustration); on the left her "flip side", her mirror image, her counterpart from over the sea. They look "of a type", and just as their taste in style and hair color match, so too do their notions and ideas, their interests and skills, and they look to me quite an ideal match, and their actions seemed to bear it out.

One more:

Some traditions remain in spite of all other factors. The girls cut their cake(s) - three of them! They were DELICIOUS (remember I said I tasted both?) and we were lucky enough to be given some to take away with us. Dare I say, it didn't make it home to Madison. NOTE: see the beautiful roses? Well! They looked very realistic indeed...and they were made out of marzipan! Yes, you heard me, ALMOND PASTE. Some people view that as purely decorative and keep the little marzipan fruits that appear around Christmas on display. I might have said this before, but I. EAT. MARZIPAN.

Whether or not I said it before I'll say it again (and hopefully ne'er repeat it in public nevermore). Oh - and if you're of a delicate constitution you might wish to skip these lines. I've been known to buy a cellophane tube of Odense brand marzipan...and peel off the cellophane and eat it like a banana.

OK - the rest of you can look again. By the way, do NOT try this at home; there are 40 calories in one almond. Forget the sugar and all the rest of those almonds.

And so you've finally seen just a glimpse of the wonderful delight that was our celebration with dear friends AND our introduction to something fun that we hadn't heard of before.

I will now resume your regular programming.

In which we attend the Second Wedding....

2009-09-18T10:57:00.003-05:00

The dictionary definition of "Wedding" is: "the marriage ceremony with its attendant festivities." Pretty broad. (Or - I suppose one could say that's sometimes a feature of a wedding, a "pretty broad"; sorry, there's no excuse for that. I'm going to sit in time-out now, one minute for every year of my age. See you tomorrow.)

But the second wedding has turned into more than a lovely collection of memories, more than thinking back on a nice event and time spent with good friends. The second wedding has opened a window, allowed a glimpse, and then opened a previously-unknown door behind which I've found a new delight. Let me explain:

First - it was in Columbus, Ohio, home of a beautiful replica of Columbus' Santa Maria and the home of our longt-time good friends, J and M. They're reenactors too - for the most part, their era is a good century before ours: the 17th century. Think Plimoth Plantation. M works very much in the 21st century and is probably the most computer-literate person I know. J works for a company that publishes darling and very popular little cookbooks.

Furthermore, M looks as perfect in his 17th century garb as one can. He has long hair, a neat little pointed beard, and is the very image of one of Columbus' men as I can picture. J is one of those merry little women whose skill with a needle would vie with any of her sisters of the earlier century, and when "decked out" they present a most admirable picture. I met them years ago (perhaps 18?) on line, in a realtime chat room on Compuserve, and to this day I "meet" J once a week for an hour's gab. (We're joined by at least one of the other original members too, and even though it's only one hour out of my busy life I look forward to it eagerly and miss it when I have to miss.)

OK - these people have a daughter, L. Years ago when we occasionally got together "F2F" L and I would play together with our American Girl dollies. She was a child then, and I was.....well, me. Anyway let me say that the child of these creative, historical, talented and artistic people (did I mention that M plays with a Celtic band and is a self-taught brilliant fiddler?) is herself a unique girl and always has been. In her young adult life her personal style has been what might be called "artistic punk" -- she's an individual and I love her style.

Well! She attended college and emerged with credentials in things like "Computer-Generated Images" and that sort of thing (all beyond my 66-year-old comprehension but VERY 21st century artistic). She loves anime, manga - that sort of thing.

During the last couple of years, it seems she met a girl living in London (online) and they became fast friends - and then more. C came from London to spend some time in Columbus....I think over Christmas, perhaps...and they discovered that their connection was real and true - and they became engaged. My reaction? Couldn't deny the truth: L wasn't a little girl any more and I'd have to find another girlie to play dolls with. Also I was delighted because I love this girl, and knowing that she had truly found a soulmate was very satisfying. The whole online thing? It's the 21st century and MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE has been that everyone I've ever met has been "exactly as advertised" and I've enjoyed meeting people and becoming friends with no preconceived ideas about them based on prejudices of appearance. I believe - I know - that you can come to know someone really well without ever laying actual eyes on them.......and I'd have to say I don't think I know anyone whose feelings of friendship would be changed at the sight of the person "F2F".

OK, I'll set aside my soapbox - but as I do, I'll comment that I really think eventually these innerwebs will allow for friendships across geographic and time lines and prejudices about physical attributes will diminish and there will be peace. Not in my lifetime, but you know - I think it's out there.

Back to the second wedding. As it turns out, it really WAS a "second wedding"; not only the second we attended this summer, but the second for the Darling Girls. You see, they were married in Britain (if memory serves, they had a lovely site in Ireland) with C's family present - and because we're still behind the Motherland in some ways here in the Colonies, their union is recognized there. But they - and WE (L's family and friends) were delighted when plans were made for them to have a wedding here so that WE could witness and share their joy.

The wedding was held at the Center for Science and Industry (COSI) in Columbus; we didn't get to explore the whole place, but the portion reserved for the wedding is a large hands-on area sort of like a set for Indiana Jones -- all rocky mazes and a stone castle tower and so on.

Now ... there was another element to this wedding, which was absolutely NEW to Mr Dearling and me. We were told to wear our 19th century apparel, because the theme, the flavor, the soul of this wedding was to be -- STEAM PUNK! We had no idea what that meant; we had never heard those two words together in a context. We dressed, we went to the COSI, we found the site -- and discovered that almost everyone (elder relatives excused) were in costume, and we were introduced to this "Steam Punk". We saw Victorian clothing, we saw leather helmets (think aviator). We saw corsets and frills and lace.

The wedding itself was brief and lovely - the officiant was well-spoken, the vows clear and the mood merry and reverent and FUN! When the ceremony was over there were pictures and we were allowed to examine the fabulous environs. We then repaired to the nearby Spaghetti Warehouse (apparently a chain; wonder how we could lobby for one here?) where we all sat down to an absolutely DELICIOUS dinner! There was cake (two kinds, and yes I tried both - in spite of being VERY full I couldn't resist and didn't regret it).

To summarize the Wedding portion of our trip, it was as different from the Montana wedding as it could be in pretty much every way. And yet - it was every bit as wonderful, romantic, delightful and endearing in every way. I LOVED meeting C, who strikes me as the other part of the puzzle piece that is L; seeing the girls together was such fun. Born on opposite sides of the ocean, but of an age, they complement each other. They're MODERN, they're now, they're the 21st century where technology and romance are blended. It was a revelation.

Mr Dearling was absolutely INTRIGUED with the whole concept of Steam Punk and could hardly wait to get home and talk about it to the Lovely Daughter - I think her only surprise was that we'd never encountered it before. She's really a 20th century girl, but entered the 21st young enough to "get with it".

And me? Well let me tell YOU, ladies and gennulmens. If I had were 20 years old now I would SO be there. Everything about Steam Punk appeals - I've been listening to the music on Pandora since we got home. I would LOVE to dress that way -- although I have no delusions and will continue the Happy Hippie that I am (I can hear the Lovely Daughter's sigh of relief from here). But from my perspective, the introduction to this Steam Punk thing has been like a little gift -- and of course, once you discover something you recognize that it's been there all along. "Wild, Wild West" can be nothing else (what a great movie) and I'd have to say, so is "Stardust", one of my favorites. I think one reason I like the whole ... what does Wiki call it? Subculture ... is because it's PRETTY. The clothing styles are colorful and interesting and fun. The whole punk-torn-jeans-dirty-shirts deal didn't do it for me.

The rest of the visit, by the way, included meeting for the first time another longtime online friend, a fellow reenactor too but of the Civil War persuasion -- she picked me up at our motel at 11:00 pm the night before the wedding and we found an all-night eatery and stayed up knitting and gabbing and enjoying until she brought me back about 4:30 am! (Lucky I have no Circadian rhythm; had no ill effects at all.)

And the day after the wedding M and J took us to the (really truly) world-famous Columbus Zoo, where we saw for ourselves the darling wee baby elephant from Zooborns playing with his blue beachball and a LOT of other things; the enclosures for the animals are absolutely grand. Every animal we saw looked relaxed and content - and the huge bears told me (I can communicate with bears, you know) that the food's great, the accommodations perfection - and they have a great health care plan.

You've no doubt noticed the absence of pictures -- well, there ARE some, and I WILL post them, with minimal text (having said it all here). But right now I'm going to put on "Abney Park" on You Tube.

In which we attend the First Wedding....

2009-09-02T19:46:00.015-05:00

Now that I've decided to just reminisce about "My Summer Vacation" and not be bound by chronology, &c, I want to describe two entirely happy events I enjoyed, the first in July, the second in August.

I'm a fan of weddings; Mr Dearling is fond of saying we both really appreciate them; after all, between us we've had five of 'em. (Arf arf, it is to larf.) The adventure with Willie wasn't your typical failed marriage, of course - and had the Fates rearranged their strands I expect we'd be together yet. But they did rearrange the strands. Hmm...entrelac, perhaps? No - clearly Fair Isle. Oh bosh.

My second marriage was a hippie experience, and I did learn from it. And had that not occurred I wouldn't have my Youngest, my #2 Son, my Descendant of Vikings, and he's reward beyond any unpleasantness.

And regarding Mr Dearling? Well, I'm a believer in Karma, and all's I can say is, I must have plucked the toddler Jesus out of the path of a Roman chariot and returned Him to His mother absolutely unharmed - and my reward is that Mr Dearling happened along in the perfect place at the perfect time. (I know how she must've felt; we Jewish Mothers are all alike.)

SO! Two weddings. Both were, as described, the joining of two loving souls, in exceptional surroundings, amidst groups of very diverse people who shared but one thing in common: a sincere love for the youngsters and an appreciation of the privilege of being called upon to act as witness.

The first was in Montana, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains. This was taken between our hotel and the site of the ceremony. (OK, so there were sheep there too; enhanced the whole scene for me.) It was in the afternoon, in a little area next to a small restaurant. There was a stage area and a barbecue area....chairs had been set up and behind them tables were set beneath canopies. Following the ceremony a dinner was served from the barbecue, and one of the choices was a grilled salmon. It was heavenly. Heavenly.

The bride is the daughter of dear friends. She's a college graduate and has been happily employed working in the parks doing things like clearing and improving the paths, maintaining the trails, &c. Her parents and "our side" tend toward the academic and Madisonian - and her sister is a professor in Nebraska. The groom is her fellow worker and his people come from Missouri, as I gather it. I'm not sure what their daily lives are like, as Mr Dearling and I had never before seen any of them at all. In fact, we had only met the young husband on one other occasion.
NOTE: we'd been invited to an alleged engagement party to meet him - which was actually a surprise 40th Wedding Anniversary party for our friends, engineered by their daughters.

As I took my seat, I realized that the two groups of people would likely never have crossed paths, conversed or met -- but the Darling Children of each family had met and fallen love, thus drawing together this gathering of diverse people.

As you can see, the dress was casual and the company congenial. A friend of the couple played beautiful music, and the officiant was also their friend - there had been a question about whether he would be able to perform the ceremony, as he was awaiting a call to go join his fellow firefighters at a site in the mountains.

The youngsters had sent out a request by email, in advance: following a lovely tradition, they had selected seven people to write a prayer for their wedding, to be read aloud during the ceremony.

WE had been honored with the privilege of writing a prayer. I've had a variety of honors through my life, but I have to say, I was deeply moved by the request.

As the wedding began, the prayers were read. The first was from the bride's grandmother, Charlotte. Charlotte is a fantastic and beautiful "New York Jew" - she lived all her life in the city but now, in her 90s (you'd never believe it to see her) she lives in Madison. She wasn't able to travel to the wedding, but recorded her message, and it was loving and strong and thoughtful. I love Charlotte - we see her when we celebrate Chanukah and Passover with her family. Hearing her voice was NEXT-BEST to having her there. The other prayers were delivered by members of his family and her family (her sister's was particularly endearing) - and last, Mr Dearling read our prayer. It was a joint effort - I wrote it, he read it (in his superb storyteller's voice).

This is The Moment.

They are now married, and live in Livingston among the mountains, working in the beauty of the mountains. At this moment one could feel the affection and delight flowing toward them from every person there. Many of their dear and close friends and colleagues who live there make up their circle, and will provide the security and network on behalf of all who love them.

The weather was lovely - it was a bit overcast but warm, and there were a bunch of dogs dancing and chasing around the crowd, adding to the general air of festivity.

The meal was delicious and the company terrific! We enjoyed with a lot of the lad's family and enjoyed watching the little children running and playing, and listening to the extraordinary music - and admiring the newlyweds.

We've learned something in our own 23 years of a blissful, companionable and close marriage: couples who are married , truly joined, lean together to speak, and touch one another from time to time - just a pat on the arm or a brushing of hands. We've observed this in many couples we know to be "well-married" (and had the same between us pointed out by friends). And we saw these youngsters doing the same. This is not the hand-holding and hugging and embracing of courting couples or NEW newlyweds; these are the tender connections...almost unconscious...of the truly-married.

The next morning there was a lovely breakfast at the hotel we stayed at, and we got another opportunity to share in the fine company of all of these people and the young couple one more time before we all - and they - resumed the gentle flow of their daily lives with all of its components.

For our part -- our adventure continued with a few days of car repair (enjoyed in Livingston), my first-ever visit to Yellowstone (including knitting at Old Faithful and a very close viewing of a handsome young grizzly...details will follow) and then our journey back through Dakota (including a visit to Wall Drug; oh come ON, you can't drive through South Dakota and not get your free drink of cold water at Wall Drug!!). That's a story for another time, as it deserves a few lines.

Here are a few more pictures of the lovely, friendly and totally wonderful mountain wedding; I will then describe the SECOND wedding in ITS separate post, in order to do it equal justice:

The First Dance

The son dances with his mother....

The daughter dances with her father.

A wonderful time was had by all - and a new household is born. And they are creative, clever, good-humored stewards of the lands around them, for the benefit of us all.

Good News, Bad News - Oddments

2009-08-26T11:18:00.006-05:00

Yes, yes, it's been a (long) while. You know how, when you're doing something suspect, you look around, and if other people are doing it too you don't feel so bad? Well, some of my favorite bloggers haven't been keeping up very well either. I've decided it's a summer thing, when those of us, especially in this Midwestern climate, make the most of being able to go outdoors without which we're wearing an entire 19th century immigrant's wardrobe. (That's what I wear to BED in the winter, but nevermind.)

So I'm going piecemeal here, bear with me.

Bad news: common wisdom says that people with false teeth can't eat corn on the cob.

This would be an ear of very fresh Wisconsin sweet corn. It is sitting on my favorite fresh-ear-of-sweet-corn-eating plate. It has been buttered with a proper butterknife (seen behind it to the right). It has JUST been buttered, because if you enlarge the picture you can see the butter JUST beginning to seep in between those fragrant, sweet kernels in there.

Good news: Neener neener, people with false teeth (that would be MOI) not only can eat corn-on-the-cob, they (or in this case, MOI) can eat about four ears, clean as a whistle {note to self: look that expression up} in an embarrassingly SHORT period of time. Those ads you see for denture adhesive? TRUE!!

Bad news: It's not possible to take pictures of hummingbirds unless you're a famous fancy photog with a bazillion dollars' worth of fancy-schmancy cameras and a lot of luck.

Good news: Neener neener, yes you CAN, even if you're an aging hippie with a (admittedly very nice) digital camera with anti-tremor feature....and a lot of luck. See him there, on the left? Not a great picture, perhaps, but this was only my second viewing of actual hummingbirds EVAR!

NOTE: We'd gone for a bit of a jaunt and stopped at a place in Nelson, Wisconsin to eat (one of those terrific places that locals frequent, with someone's granny in the kitchen - if they knew about her she would SO be on America's Top Chef or wossname).

Bad news: I've been a pretty rotten blogger, but one with The Very Best Intentions; Good news: I've sorted things out, and realize that the adventures of the past month or so would've been detailed in amazing detail, if you know what I mean, had I written as I intended, at the time. And ladies and gennulmens, I think a good deal of it would qualify as "T. M. I!"

Now that everything's been filtered out, I can cheerfully write about what remains in my mind: the high points, the cool things, the good stuff. So that's what I'm going to do.

Stories to come: Our trip to Livingston, Montana (with stops en route, including a visit to Minot, North Dakota, where I got pictures of the house my parents lived in when my sister was born - AND the house they lived, having come up in the world a bit, I think, where I was born. )

That trip included a Grand Enlightening of Yours Truly - involving my surprise at a certain hotel room...followed by the realization that I was being petty and petulant and really DREADFUL - followed by the realization that I'd learned a valuable lesson.

That same trip included the nicest, sweetest wedding I believe I've had the pleasure to attend (there will be pictures) and it was our privilege to have been included.

There was a silver-lined mishap which I enjoyed more than Mr Dearling, but he didn't mind, and enjoyed my enjoyment. There was also my first ever experience in Yellowstone (there IS a picture of me knitting at Old Faithful - I ain't no slacker) and a truly (I mean truly) deeply-spiritual experience with a grizzly. There are pictures of that too - Mr Dearling's show the bear grazing along nice as you please; my pictures show a brown smear against a green backdrop. The camera's anti-tremor feature can only do so much.

As we got home just two days before having to leave for our favorite historical reenactment at Grand Portage -- I didn't go. Mr Dearling did, carrying my affectionate hugs for everyone. I need more nesting time between far trips, I can't be away from my little house, little stash, (!) little kitties for such a short time before leaving again.

But! We're off again (I'm re-oriented and ready to go) to a wonderful wedding this coming weekend which will involve merriment, a ceremony, a reception in a fabulous museum-y-type place, and the chance to hang with a very favorite re-enacting (and otherwise) couple whose company we relish but usually only share online. I'll bring back pictures of that too, and I expect it'll be as wonderful as the Montana wedding, though very, very different. We've been asked to wear our 1857 togs, and I always have a bit of extra fun flouncing about in me hoops and furbelows!

It'll be the first time my friend will see me actually wearing that gown - and she made it for me. I'm ALWAYS proud to wear it (which is why I work at lining up programs for the museum requiring it) so it'll be fun to show her how grand it is.

Otherwise all's generally well. There HAS been knitting. I did NOT get the afghan for this wedding couple finished (well....or you know, started ) but I whomped out a few warshrags of simple design, three bowls to felt (results shown later), finished the day-glo toque and started a pair of socks. Oh - and I made a couple Calorimetries. And I've made two little knit amulet bags to tuck in with the wedding present this weekend. AND there are two ladies in my circle (my boss and the wife of a colleague) who are either expecting or have been hitting the pizza WAAAAY too much. No...they're really preggers, I'm sure. Anyway, as SOON as the little tykes are born I'm going to brave widdle sweaters, I think -- and/OR widdle blankies. But I've seen one (a sweater) which was made by Crazy Aunt Purl that she insists is easy (in spite of her protestations to the contrary the woman is a KNITTER!!) and I may give it a shot. I think it's called something like "Five-Hour Sweater", which translates to "Five-Week" for me, but that's OK, and I have managed to make the "Shower-in-an-Hour" preemie cap in an afternoon. NOTE: I have a Baby Surprise sweater on the needles somewhere; I don't believe it'll ever again see the light of day.

For those who may not remember: my Yiddish upbringing prevents my even casting ON a baby garment until the little copy of Winston Churchill is present and pooping. Superstition - or, in the words of Tevye, who was clearly patterned after my great-grandfather (whom I never knew but nevermind) "TRADITION!!" And yes, I hope songs from "Fiddler on the Roof" are stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

So -- watch this space for Recollections and Photographs. I've seen the geeese.

So Far, So TERRIFIC!

2009-07-28T21:25:00.008-05:00

OK, so all my thinking I was going to have a lot of time in these motels and could write every night and all like that? Hmph! Like THAT could happen. Now, there ARE pictures, lots - I'm emptying the camera every day to keep up, but as I said, I can't figure out how to get the software that I have at home, and so can't seem to edit them (as in, make them the right size, crop, &c - I have a good program on Daisy but nothing here....)

THEREFORE! No pictures here, I'll do some kind o' album affair when I get home. For now - just the synopsis-slash-story.

Any idea how FRUSTRATI NG it is to not be able to post the pictures with this??? I am SO chewing on my knuckes!

Had a nice enough time in Minot. A trip to the library scoredmy parents' address in 1938, probably their first home there - and the home they lived in in 1945, which meant MY first home too. (I just thought of that!) We also went to the newspaper. Although none of the old-timers who knew my father or had worked with him was still there, when we said I was DaleHarriet GOLDISH, the WHOLE STAFF came running out to meet the daughter of SIDNEY S. GOLDISH!!

OK. I made that up. It was more like pleasant smiles and nods - but Mr Dearling thought to ask if they had anything like maybe a coffee cup reading "Minot Daily News" and the Pleasant Young Lady found the publicity guy who showered us with pens, keychains, two datebooks with "Minot Daily News" in gold on the covers (ok, so they were for 2009; they're MEMENTOS, people, they're FINE). He also gave us one of those neat small fleece blankets, with "Minot Daily News" embroidered on the corner! No one else in Madison has one of those! (Or....hmmm - if you do, drop me a line, eh?)

After all that excitement, we decided to head out toward Glendive, MT, where we had reservations for the night. Mr Dearling realized he'd forgotten his eyeshade, so we stopped at a Walmart to find one. And came out with:

A peach; a pear; a tube of my favorite dental adhesive (see, it has this mint....nevermind); a pair of Susan Bates #8 long single-points (OK, so I started the Calorimetry on too-short needles, you wanna make something of it?); THREE balls of "Peaches & Cream" (figured I might knit up a couple dishrags if I got tired of the other stuff); half-a-dozen chicken tenders; half-a-pound of potato wedges (Mr Dearling LOVES him some Walmart wedges); --- oh, and a SLEEP MASK! HAH, you thought I was gonna say we forgot that, didn't you? Well we DID-unt.

We found our Super-8 in Glendive. It didn't look too promising, there was a video rental in the lobby....but the good-natured clerk assured me that the wifi was really good - the router was in the ceiling of the first floor, just under the floor of OUR ROOM (which was the best one in the whole place)and besides that, "the bunch of seismologists just down the hall have all KIND o' computer stuff, and they haven't complained even ONCE!" We found our digs, very adequate, I turned on ol'Hermione and.....YES! FABULOUS innerwebs connection. Faith restored. -- and last blog entry achieved.

Unremarkable breakfast ("continental breakfast" can mean anything from storebought dry doughnuts to make-your-own waffles - this was the former)and we continued on toward Livingston, about six hours.

We ARE in cow country - beautiful rolling hills a-crawl (a-graze?) with beefycows, many with calvies at their sides. Next stop, Billings, and we decide to stop at the Visitors' Center to get the lay of the land (as in, "any yarn shops around here?")

There was a lovely big statue, a cowboy on horseback and two longhorns...nothing for it but a photo opportunity (watch this space). We had the good luck to visit the Visitors'Center on Doughnut Day! The very nice fellow at the desk gave us all sorts of information -- INCLUDING the address of a yarn shop!

AS I don't want any single post to be too long, (and I'm feeling rather cliff-hangerish) I'm closing here and will pick up the adventure after knittin' a few rows. After all, this IS at least theoretically a knittin' blog, and I feel obligated to pick up the needles now and then.

On the needles: a Calorimetry, a sock, the day-glo toque {{blink blink}}and a dishcloth.

The Journey Begins -- and continues!

2009-07-24T02:21:00.007-05:00

NOTE: Remember I said I'd be bloggin' from the road? Well - I did. Tuesday night we stayed at a Super 8, which as we all know ALL have "free high-speed internet". And it did, but the signal was "low" and "very low" and dicey. Still, I carried on. I wrote a wonderful, clever, humorous, insightful and entertaining blog. Easily the best blog I've ever written; perhaps the best that ANYone has ever written.

And it disappeared. Gone. PPFFFTTT!! I didn't believe it - I rebooted, checked, rebooted again, checked again, and OH YES, ladeeeeez and gennulmens, there was the title (lawsy it was clever...can't bring it to mind just here, but do take my word for it) and the first line. Only. Sooooo....this is the first of my travelblogs. Again. (I don't delude myself, I'll never again attain that original brilliance - just {{sniff}} carry on.

Although this has NEVER happened before, we got out of our Outreach program Tuesday a little later than we'd intended. {koff koff} We hurried home to feed the cats before leaving town - ignore the verklempt lady behind the curtain - and headed out. First stop: REI to return some shoes (Mr Dearling) and then a quick run into Target for the monthly Rx refill (me). THEN we were actually On Our Way. EN ROUTE. Travellin'.

We drove to the Twin Cities where we stayed overnight with my darlin' sister-in-law, and Wednesday morning, we turned our noses west and headed out. Oh....I discovered that I had apparently forgotten my cordless mouse which I much enjoy, so before leaving St Paul we stopped at Target (there're lots of them there) and I got a wonderful new small mouse for Hermione with my gift card from the last birthday.

NOTE: I actually DID manage to sort, pack, find patterns, find needles, pack, remember clean underwear, find yarns and highlighters and so on -- although I did seem to pass over the mouse. Nevermind.

There was scenery-admiring, dozing and knitting happening on my side of the car and driving happening on Mr Dearling's side of the car. We got to Moorehead, MN and stopped for lunch at a Burger King. Mr Dearling hoped they had the same "Double Whopper for $1.39" special we had to home, but they did not. So he appeased himself with two "Whopper-Junior-for-a-Dollarses" and for MY part, I had a pair of "burger shots". These would be teetiny hamburgers of the approximate dimensions of the White Castles in days of yore. We used to say "they hide the patty under the pickle". Doesn't matter, the teetiny burgers were tasty, and with the rather superior fries, were a fine meal.

NOTE: This is NOT a food critic blog; however it may appear to be on acccount of I sometimes ~~obsess~~ think about food and eateries and so on, and I have been known to comment that an event can succeed or fail, depending entirely on the nosh.

Our first Planned Destination was the Red River Zoo in Fargo, NorthDakota. That was my fault: I showed Mr Dearling pictures on line of newborn triplet RED PANDAS at that zoo. Those are his favorite cutest-ever animals; nothing for it, being as we were going to be in the area ("area" in this case being "North Dakota") we went there.

Well - there WERE triplet Red Pandas...but they're not going to be on exhibit until the end of August. HOWEVER! The trip was way worth it anyway because they have all kind o' unusual and rare and endangered animals there and they are a link in this worldwide chain of zoos who have breeding programs to try to prevent the entirely-disapearingness of some of these animals. Also, they had a married pair of peafowl strutting around on the paths amongst the people....and they had a tiny peewee peachick with them.

NOTE: there ARE pictures; however, I can't figure out how come I can't "edit" them to fix their size, brightness &c on Hermione so will have to do something of an albumoid deal when I get home.

We then continued toward Minot, and saw a sign indicating two towns coming up: WHEATland and CHAFFee. How cool is that?

By the way.....Interesting Observation: the speed limit in North Dakota on the highway is 75 mph !! This means that one can actually - and legally - drive about 80-85 mph. We did notice, though, that at speeds higher than THAT, we began hearing this really weird noise......coming from the passenger seat.

NOTE: it is difficult driving west in the late afternoon, especially when there is a haze of tiny bugs beset by bad karma, and some pollen-oid matter. Mr Dearling, who Prepares for Contingencies, stopped and cleaned off the windscreen with Windex.

Upon arriving in Minot we had the good fortune of finding ourselves right next to the railroad tracks at the depot just as the Empire Builder was pulling out for its journey west. It was really exciting seeing the train, and because there were a few lights on in the people cars (as opposed to cattle cars) I could see in, where folks both upstairs and down were settling in for their trip. I would LOVE to take a train trip across country, even half-way, and be able to sleep in a pullman car and eat in the dining car, &c. I hear, however, that it is FRIGHTFULLY spendy, but a girl can dream.

Also...car travel with one's Best Beloved (who does all the driving while one knits, reads, writes, &c, see above) is a very fine way to travel indeed.

As the hour is now late (although not as late as it used to be, being as we're now in Mountain Time) I will leave the Minot Experience to relate tomorrow evening (allowing as how the place we're staying THERE....for the three days around the wedding....says it has GOOD WiFi in the attractive lobby, which will suit me (and Hermione) just fine.

So ends this day's travel. (NOTE: the free WiFi at this Super 8 is.....SUPER! And it's in Glendive, MT, if you happen to be passing this way.)

Preparing for Panic Mode...

2009-07-20T16:01:00.009-05:00

It is Time. Officially. Monday-before-we-leave-on-Tuesday-evening. Which means that I should be efficiently starting to pack the things I'll need for about twelve days' journey away from home. I believe I may have commented before, how I feel about travelling. My sister was in the womb before me (she's six years older) and she took ALL the Wanderlust Genes. She and her husband have lived in Paris and Florence, have visited Africa and India and in South America. It's been perfect as they've been able to afford it - and my brother-in-law is an accomplished photographer, so he's taken advantage of their perambulations.

I, on the other hand, have a Taproot. I like my little nest. My Home. I like being able to get up in the middle of the night, go into the kitchen and grab a nosh out of the fridge, meander to the bathroom petting cats on the way and then going back to bed -- all without opening my eyes.

This is not to say that I dislike travel. We've been some wonderful places, Mr Dearling and I and I relish each and every day and experience. But it's finite. I think the longest time I can be from home is probably three weeks. As we turned onto our street after our amazing three-week trip to Nova Scotia (and I wouldn't have missed an instant of it) I said, "Isn't it grand, coming back to our own digs?" and HE said "I could've gone right past Seminole and kept going."

That was a Learning Moment - one which has not affected our relationship one jot. Sometimes he goes off on a walkabout (or more accurately "motorcycle-about" or "drive-about") for a few days or a couple of weeks. While he's gone, he throws his sleeping bag down where he is, sometimes not even bothering with a tent. He lives on peanut butter or cheese sandwiches and he hikes and walks -- sometimes skis -- and has delicious and halcyon days.

For my part, while he's gone, I keep odd hours, spend most of the time on the couch watching endless teevee and eating things he's not fond of: shrimp, frozen dinners, stuff like that. And I read, and knit, and doze with the cats....in short, I have delicious and halcyon days.

But when things like this come up, I'm excited. The purpose of this jaunt is because we've been honored with an invitation to the wedding of the darling daughter of dear friends. She's a very outdoorsy girl, marrying an equally-outdoorsy guy, amidst the beauty of the mountains which they both adore. They live there, too, for quite some time, so it's also THEIR mountains. The bride asked if I'd write a Wedding Prayer - they're having pretty much a secular ceremony, but asked seven friends to write prayers for them. (Where there is love, the ceremony is spiritual anyway -- intimately spiritual.)

So we're leaving tomorrow after a museum program. And I'm packing. Now, as a largely non-travelling type, I'm inexperienced here. But I'm taking a pair of sweatpants in case I NEED something of a pant-y type. And I'm taking four dresses (plus the one I'll wear) and three aprons, as that's my Daily Dress (a couple of my dresses will serve nicely for the mountain wedding, too). I've made lists: pills, dental stuff, earrings, brush/comb and so forth. I'm pretty confident about all that.

BUT!! See, this is a GRAND knitterly opportunity. Mr Dearling loves to drive, and he had a very fine GPS unit. It's between his ears. He reads maps like some people read novels. Which means, all the windshield time is KNITTING TIME!!

So the TRICKY PACKING will be determining 1) what yarns, needles and projects to take; which (photocopied) patterns to tuck in; being sure all necessary tools are present. 2) All current books being read, some for study and some for pleasure -- and which magazines as well....and of course the Guidebook of Yarn Shops all over the country. (Mr Dearling is not averse to my shouting "OVER THERE!! IT SAYS 'YARN'!!") 3) Writing tools. I have stories in the hopper, I have the beginnings of a novel which my Writers' Group said MUST BE DONE. SO that means notebooks, sticky notes, highlighters, pencils....and hard copies of some WIPs.

I've gotten a slightly-bigger notebook for writing things down outside of my blogosphere book, too. And of course.....of COURSE!!...I'm taking Hermione. I thought about taking Daisy, too, but Hermione's the man for the job,and Lovely Daughter can take Daisy while we're gone.

NOTE: In case you missed earlier posts: Daisy is my beloved Dell laptop, large of screen and wondrous. I love her. She is my cherished one. Aaah, but then there's Hermione. She's a teetiny netbook, notebook -- itty bitty laptop. Mr Dearling tells me that she's as gutsy as Daisy, though. She has USB ports but no disk drives or anything, so of course I'll be bringing Ygraine. Ygraine's the flashdrive. In fact, I have a new flashdrive JUST for my fiction, my stories, my ideas....she'll be coming along too.

Which means, when I find myself in the presence of the Almighty WiFi, I'll be able to blog from the road, keep up with e-mail, look in on Facebook and Twitter, and I won't miss my daily dose of Cute Overload (my first online check) and the LOLCats. And....these (and you MAUST DOINGK EET!): the Itty Bitty Kitties followed by Pitter-patting Baby Cats. You won't regret it - I start every day with these.

Why Dale-Harriet, whenever do you have time to BLOG??? (Ooops)

So what I'm saying is, in this the 21st century, I'll still have access to the electronic comforts of home. Admittedly, I may have to seek out a library or MacDonalds to get them, but there you are. We'll be staying in motels occasionally - certainly while we're at the wedding and festivities. But otherwise, we're going CAMPING ! Like, you know, MODERN normal ordinary human being camping!

In place of my canvas wedge with no floor and my deerskins and feather tick and candle lanterns (NOTE: I dearly love those, and enjoy our days spent in the 18th century) it's going to be LUXURIOUS to have a poptent with a floor and, you know, windows! With SCREENS! Sleeping bags. Battery lanterns. WEINIES!!

So let me reiterate. I need to pack for: Clothing and personal hygiene and stuff. Underwear. Socks. Petticoats. Brush and comb. That's one big suitcase.

And I need to pack for Knitting. One basket to keep up front with me with current projects, and one bag for yarn, extra patterns, extra needles, extra tools - and the Yarn Store guidebook (see above).

And Writing: blogosphere book, small travel journal, flashdrives, ideas notebook, pens, pencils, erasers, highlighters...those can be in the tote bag with the books for reading. It's time I begin browsing books about the Metis women in the Fur Trade, being as I'm slated to give a program about them in November. Now, that seems like months and MONTHS away, but I know how this sh** works; before I know it, it'll be day-after-next.

Then there's the music - a few tapes, a few CDs (I have an adapter for playing the portable CD player in the car which is Pre-CD-Players-in-Cars-Thenk-Yew.)

OK. The. Time. Has. Come.

WATCH THIS SPACE!

Art, Pastry, Fruit and Knitting.

2009-07-12T09:29:00.007-05:00

I am in the Half-Hour. It's Sunday, you see....around here, we call that "Fosamax Sunday". Now, that's not a plug or product placement or anything, because the truth is that it's "Alendronate Sodium" Sunday. Admit it, doesn't have the same ring. But what that means is this: 1) I apparently have...or am teetering on the brink of...osteoporosis; 2) I therefore take a pill once a week to shore up me creaky bones; 3) When you take one of these, you must "remain in an upright position" for a half-hour.

Which makes me, unrepentant hippie passive-aggressive that I am, want to: 1) lie down; 2) stand on my head; 3) ask "WHY??" However, I am also an Old-and-Therefore-WISE old lady, so I will: 1) stay upright; 2) throw over the headstand anyway, as it would be: 2a) uncomfortable; 2b) undignified; {and I hear that cackling over there, NEVERMIND! } and 2c) whaddya, think I'm outta my mind? (Which question is RHETORICAL, Peanut Gallery.)

But wait, there's more. ALSO during the half-hour post-pill period, I cannot drink anything but water, nor eat ANYTHING. That includes the rest of my morning regimen of pills (think: I'm tempted to just toss the lot in a bowl with milk and sugar....) AND it includes....

DIPLES!

These are delicate scrolls of pastry, Greek in origin, which are made by some arcane method - and then drizzled in a thin syrup of honey. The honey permeates the layers without making them soggy. When they're finished, the bakers (in this case, some nuns at a convent, I'm told) lean over and whisper "Cinnamon" over them. It's not so much a flavoring as a scent in the throat.

I learned about Diples as part of my college education. There was a place called The St. Clair Broiler (over on St. Clair Avenue, as it coincidentally happens) which served, along with decent burgers and the usual college chazerai - very large, perfect Diples. They were also open late, for the benefit of we Macalester scholars who were unencumbered by stuff like dating and so wandered over there from the "Libe" in an intellectually-superior knot for something to eat.

"So, Dale-Harriet, where then have you obtained another example of this ambrosia, all these ~~long, vast, centuries~~ months later?"

At the Art Fair on the Square! This is an annual event, huge as you can see. The weather was fine and we met another couple and strolled around together.

NOTE: Since I began writing, the half-hour has expired, I have taken my cereal-bowl of pills and.........eaten two of the diples. I will now return to the scheduled blogpost.

There were many fine things to see at the Art Fair: some beautiful, ethereal paintings (waaaaaaay to spendy for me) and some wonderful wooden bowls, artsy baskets -- one might say "the usual". We also trailed throught the Art Fair OFF the Square, sort of an adjunct show but only Wisconsin artists. The things are no less showy but are somewhat less spendy -- but I saw nothing to complement my Early Salvation Army - Mid-Student Housing decor, so we didn't buy anything. (I must say, though, the High School Pottery Group, displaying delicious bowls and cups and things made by students from all the schools in town - I'd have come away from that with something, had anything truly caught my fancy.)

As we wound up our stroll and were JUST about to walk down to The King of Falafel for a fine repast, I saw it: GREEK PASTRIES!! Trays and trays of all manner of diples, baklava, those things that look like shredded wheat but are filled with chopped walnuts and are positively DRENCHED in honey.....'scuse me, I have to go get a napkin.....OK, I'm back. ANYway, I bought some. Nine. Six diples, three of the shreddy-wheaty things. For the record, since ending my Half-Hour I have eaten two of each. Nevermind.

After you've spent a couple hours walking up and down and back and forth and examining Fine Art, it can sort of alter your perception of things. For example, I noticed this reflection of our beautiful capitol dome:

Or maybe it's just that all the artsy-fartsy vibes got to me -- but you know, I bet if I print this as an 8x10 on glossy paper and make up some clever caption in German, I can sell it NEXT year at the Fair! From what I saw, it should bring me about Eleventy-thirty hundred dollars. Hmmmmmm.

Some other things that have occupied me these last few days: BERRYING! Yes, since identifying my lovely berries as really-truly Black Raspberries I've been going out every day or so and plucking them as they ripen. Like regular rasps, you can tell they're ripe when you touch them and they fall into your hand. I didn't drop any, and I'm glad, because I'd have been down there amongst the thorns trying to find it. However, we have a few mosquitoes around here, and I was delighted when Mr Dearling provided me with a relic from his Outdoorsy Past:

OK, OK!! I'm not looking to win any aesthetic awards here! You may laugh and jest (in fact, if you're NOT laughing and jesting you're a more serious soul than I) but I have to tell you, the dorky thing works! I managed, this last time, to get my berries with both of my eyes OPEN the whole time. However.........I have to tell you, the sound of thousands of mosquitoes buzzing and buzzing around trying to get to you to suck out your blood and eye juice and spit and soul -- that's pretty unpleasant too. I've just e-mailed and rescinded my application for Chief Entymologist in the Rain Forests of Borneo. But at least I did emerge victorious, with THIS:

Now, to be truthful, this is ALL the berries I've gathered; I've been putting them in this bowl each day and keeping them in the fridge. But ladies and gentlemen, these berries' hours are numbered. SOME time today, Mr Dearling and I are going to have small bowls of rich French Vanilla ice cream, spangled with our very own organic Black Raspberries. I will write a proper Food Critic commentary on the experience in the next few days. I am frightful tickled with these, and with the canes, and I'm VERY grateful to whichever birds out there ate someone else's black raspberries and managed to hold it together until they got into MY back yard to.....eeeeeew. Nevermind. Suffice it to say, I'm glad Mother Nature gave'em to me, and I'll think about something other than Her methods. Thenk yew.

OK - I've managed to write a whole LONG post (that's what happens when I leave off for a few days) without once mentioning cats, sticks or books!! The books are going to have to wait for another day (but believe me, it's not for a dearth of material on either one) but I. HAVE. BEEN. KNITTING! I finished two Calorimetry head bands, a fine toque (replacing the goofy one I made before), and I have begun another requested toque:

Yes, ladies and gentlemens. You ARE seeng right. If your computer has "tru-tone" or some kinda thing that gives you the full and authentic color on your screen, I must apologize for failing to warn you. That IS a toque on the needles, it WILL be a perfectly-authentic (in design) French-Canadian toque of the voyageurs-wore-them variety. But NO! This is NOT a color which would probably have appeared in ANY 18th century palate. No....this toque is for a gentleman (a fellow-reenactor, true enough) who, recognizing a very decent style of cap useful in our Wisconsin winters, has asked for one, NOT for his reenacting, but for his time-honored Wisconsin tradition, The Autumn Deer Hunt.

I think the law states that if you're out there you must wear blaze orange ALL OVER; that's so that you can't be mistaken for a deer by even the drunkest, most inexperienced bleary-eyed hunter in the forest. (They're NOT from Wisconsin, by the way...hunters come here from far and wide because we have ~~a veritable scourge of woods rats~~ ....errrhm....a vigorous deer population. The females are so CUTE (rumor has it that the original drawing of Bambi's mother was taken from a Wisconsin doe) but there are NO (I repeat NO) blaze orange deer here or anywhere else. So the decision to have such a safety-conscious and warm head covering is not only wise but sensible and forward-thinking, and although I find I have an after-image for about three hours after knitting on this, it: 1) IS "knitting"; 2) is a laudable request; 3) is kinda fun in a perverse way; 4) may provide some comments when I take it to Late-Night Knit next week.

And in closing (you're on your own about the "books") I present to you Mistress Evangeline, Priestess of Bast, Grand Dame of the Household, Precious Feline Fuzzydaughter, looking her most ~~snooty~~ -- mildly-disapproving. Her mood improves in direct proportion to the number of Green Crunchies I am dropping into her bowl.

You're going to post this, aren't you?

MEH.

The Road to Hell, and fruit!

2009-07-08T09:58:00.009-05:00

Yes, we all know about "the road". But guess what, I figured it out! I've been trying to sort through my notes going back to my last post, so as to catch up with all good bits intact. As some of my favorite webbers say, "REDONKULOUS!" So rather than trying to catch up by writing about Things Past, I'm going to PICK UP instead, and pepper the conversation with recollections where applicable. Deal?

Identify the Mystic Berries. These appeared in my back yard, growing on thick stems which curve over and are armed with Very Serious Thornage. I took a few pictures, because these are not something I planted; I know they're NOT ordinary raspberries because I know what those leaves look like.

And it's NOT this. I'm figuring these berries were carried about in the craw (sounds better than the alternative) of some birds who were enjoying the chaotic jungle that I think of as "my natural garden", and were ultimately deposited, where they began to grow. I think I've seen them before, but I've pulled them out or broken them down. This year, however, my ~~indolence~~ ...erhhm...Busy Schedule has prevented my doing much in the back yard, and you can imagine my surprise when I found these berries!

This is what they looked like a few days later, "redding up" as they say. They look very much like ordinary raspberries, which happen to be a great favorite of mine -- but which I cannot bring myself to pay eleventyfour dollars an ounce for. HOWEVER! Owing to my ~~indolence~~ extreme busyness at the Museum (see above), I wasn't able to get out to look at them very often.

NOTE: In order to get the previous photographs, I had to move VERY fast, and only the fact that my clothing caught on the thorns prevented my being carried off in the clutches of an Oscenity of Mosquitos; laughingly called "The State Bird of Wisconsin" I am here to state that there is NOTHING humorous about them, and only the fact that our neighbors are vampires and had a few quarts of Type O (I think it's a Pepsi product) in their fridge... and the knowledge of transfusing ... prevented that last from being my Final Blog post.

UNDAUNTED, however, as I am never, ever daunted at my age, I went out last night to examine them again, and found this:

NOTE: I went out wearing sweatpants (it was in my own backyard, not a soul around to see me) and a hooded sweatshirt with the hood tied tightly around my neck. Did they attack my hands? NO they did not. Fortunately I managed to protect my face....mostly.....

Now, I found this entirely beautiful, and there were several clusters identical to this on the other curving, thorny arms of the plants. Mr Dearling had thought they might be thimbleberries; someone else suggested blackberries. I had no idea - oh, and did it occur to me to (duuuuuuhh) look them up ON LINE? It did not. Lay it at the feet of above-mentioned Busyness.

So what I did instead was go back inside for a bowl, and at great expense to life and blood, I gathered up the ones that were actually like this and therefore, I thought, probably ripe:

I found it interesting that the berries AROUND the central one were still red, but I'm guessing that they're just unripe and will darken. I brought in the eleven ripe berries that I found, and brought them in, where they look like this:
They DO look so edible, and there's some rhyme about white berries being dangerous but red or black being fine....with the exception of Deadly Nightshade, which has bright cherry red berries and are also known as Bella Donna, the poison of choice in Renaissance Italy.....nevermind.

I put them in a pretty ceramic bowl,and showed them to Mr Dearling to see if he might be able to recognize what they were.

NOTE: Mr Dearling was born in da Bronx. Grew up on Longk Islandt. And I'm asking him to identify a wild berry found growing in the wilds of the back yard. Plus - he's a boy. So of course, being a New York boy with all those man genes and a healthy sense of scientific curiosity.......

He ate one.

And of COURSE (you saw this coming) immediately clutched his throat, made hairball hacking noises and slumped against the counter. Unconvincing -- but what could I do? I read "Romeo and Juliet". I immediately popped one into my mouth too.

And thus arrived at the following verdict, since corroborated by examination of information on line, might I add :

BLACK RASPBERRIES!

They're in the fridge, waiting for some of their fellows to ripen, and then they have an appointment with a splash of cream. There won't be many of them, I think, but we'll each have a small bowl...and then I'll read up to see what I can do to guarantee their future health and welfare, and I'll mark them out for Protection and Further Care.

Unless we were wrong, in which case we might be dead before you finish reading this. Lovely Daughter gets the stash.

"Ouvert"

2009-06-14T09:30:00.001-05:00

"Ouvert" is the French word for "open". Windows open, doors open - opportunities open. It's been a very long time since I've been here, time in which I was enclosed, snug, protected. I took the full proscribed period of mourning for my friend....because (as often seems to heppen to me) what began as my keenly feeling the loss of my friend became my feelings of loss for everyone I've lost in my life up to this point: my parents, beloved in-laws, some friends, Willie....and cats, who are little furry people. (Yes, so are doggies; all you pupfans have my agreement with you too!)

But the seasons change, and change again, and a New Season is beginning. The school year is over (no more tours of 4th graders at the Museum for a few months); the winter is over (said in a whisper...Wisconsin weather can be fickle); my period of high mourning is over.

What is ahead? Summer. Some exciting Outreach programs at senior centers. Travel - next week to a long weekend in the 18th century - an invitational event with especially good friends, the wedding of a darling girl who is the daughter of especially good friends (a *modern* trip, to Montana), our annual journey to Grand Portage....perhaps a few other jaunts.

Study! When I was a kid, I always felt a huge rush of Intellectual Freedom as the last bell of the school year rang. I could hardly wait to get to the library to delve deeply into what I wanted to study. And this summer is no exception. Without the daily tours, I can really dig into my study of Mary Hayes Chynoweth (it's a good thing - my first presentation is coming up this week!)

I am going to rework my Hattie Fairchild program. That's one I do in my hoopskirts about a lady's lot in life during the mid-19th century. I call it "Manners, Mending and Morals" - it has a Power Point show with it, but I'm going to prepare a version without the visual aid of slides, so that I can do it even if there's no projector equipment available. (I KNOW, a computer slide show about the 19th century, in costume, no less -- is ODD.)

I'm also scheduled to do a program in November on the Metis women in the Fur Trade, and I haven't yet cracked a book about that one yet. The Metis were the children born of native women and French or French-Canadian traders and trappers and voyageurs, and they had a rich culture as a group; I've long been interested in those folks with "a foot in each world", as it were.

And KNITTING!! Well, believe it or not I have a couple of commissions for toques, but it's been a while and I'm looking forward to them. I've also decided I'm going to knit me some socks and I have TWO (count 'em, 2) afghans planned. Each is for a bridal couple, one the end of July (yeahright like THAT's possible) and the other is for the end of August (see above). But I AM going to knit them, and they're going to have cables and bobbles and noobles and dingdongs and so forth. They may not be delivered at the weddings, but they WILL be given. You saw it here first.

There will also be some babyknitting in the future, but as you may recall, I won't be selecting a pattern, buying yarn or casting on until the little tyke is already happily cooing in its cradle. (That's not to say I may not idly flip through the occasional pattern book or grope and stroke the errant skein here and there. Just sayin'.)

Now then - I intend to write an actual blogpost, catching up at least in overview format, in the next day or so, but I had to flex the old catssticksandbooks fingers here.

I'm back, I'm fine, all's well (erhm....except the Serious Lack of Moneys is making life difficult to the left of me and the right of me, but seasons turn, right?)

A Passing....

2009-05-09T14:33:00.003-05:00

I've lost a friend. It was yesterday (ten seconds ago? a hundred years ago?). Because it is her wish, her partner (and I) are arranging a Jewish burial. She was a Believer; her understanding was that her mother (long dead) was discovered to have had a Jewish birth mother.....and so, in recent years, she felt herself to be Jewish, all of her spiritual leanings were much in alignment with Judaic thought, and she loved studying about Judaism.

As a result, we're proceeding accordingly. Although she did not live with me, her home (and her partner's) is not a place where visitors could come.....two dogs and four cats are much of the explanation. Therefore, such "shiva" as will be observed, will be observed in my home. Especially the last few years people who saw us together, or who met me while I was with her, assumed without exception that we were sisters. By birth? No. Otherwise? As much as loving sisters leading separate lives can be, so we always chuckled and "Yes, good as."

Note: Shiva (from sheva, "seven") is the second stage of mourning; the first is the period immediately following the loss when the mourners maintain solitude for the deep outpouring of grief that naturally occurs. The third stage, Shloshim ("30") is the next 23 days, when one begins....slowly....to restore daily routine; the degree of these depends on the closeness of the relationship.)

Hers was a life of experiences. We met in the occult shop I worked in. It was the spring of 1971, and I was very pregnant. She "made eyes" at me, and we laughed, and I said that I figured, as it seemed I was probably straight, that ours would be a relative love: the love of a relative for another relative. Sisters.

We were very different in many ways. Her life had been difficult, before we met. And about seven years later, we discovered that my husband and her partner were cut from the same cloth - FEH! In time, she found her partner, L., and I found Mr. Dearling. We've all been together around 23 years, and we agreed we finally "got it right".

She never went to college....and never quit studying. She loved music - generally different from my taste. We hung out, occasionally; we talked often, even when we didn't see much of each other. She lived not far from me. She and L. and I are devout and devoted catpeople. She and L. have had a series of funny ol' cats (one was rescued as a kitten--from the warm engine block of their car!). They've generally also usually had a dog, from the Shelter, and it's been a series of gangly, mutt-y, rambunctious dogs.

In the early days, she was much a part of my children's lives. My Lovely Daughter called her Mom. She saved my older boy from a life of crime by coming up behind him in a grocery one day and whispering "Planning to pay for that, are you?" as she saw him pocket a candy bar. He put it back and never repeated anything like that. (She told me about it later......much later. Years later.)

She had children too, in a different life a thousand years earlier, and when her circumstances changed she recognized that she wasn't in a position to care for children as they should be, and found a foster home where they could remain together. For many years they were out of touch; in the last few years she's heard from them and her grandchildren, and her eldest - a dear girl about Lovely Daughter's age, has been a happy part of her life these last years. (On her part - that was an act of clear-thinking, unrestricted love for her children, and was an act of strength.)

She and L. were at my Thanksgiving table every year. And she worked for years for the Madison Metro bus company, on the phones providing information, &c. She just retired last year, and her time was her own.....although her health was somewhat fragile.

Recently, she was on dialysis, three times a week. I went often to sit and knit and chat with her; sometimes I'd collect her after and we'd "go play", which involved things like a meander to the bookstore often - and a nice lunch somewhere always. In recent weeks she'd taken to volunteering at the Senior Center, and even before that on a couple of occasions I met her there and we'd enjoy the free lunch and following movie. She really liked being there.

She heard of a program yesterday at the Senior Center that interested her a great deal: there was a Holocaust Survivor going to speak, and then sign copies of his book. She was looking forward to it a LOT, and hoped I'd be able to go with her to it...and I was fascinated too and would have loved to, but had to work at the Museum. She called Thursday and left me a message saying that she'd been able to rearrange her dialysis for Friday morning and would be going to hear the speaker - and hoped I'd somehow be able to negotiate around and join her.

I really couldn't, but I called her in the evening and said she should remember what was said so she could tell me all about it. Instead, yesterday afternoon, I got a message on my cellphone from L. saying to call right away. I did. And L. said she was at the hospital emergency room - and that our dear one had collapsed and died. I think I shouted "You're not telling me the truth!"

But she was, of course.

She did go to hear the speaker, and she was in line with her book, waiting to get it signed, when she collapsed. I hope I go that way, when the time comes -- but I just really wasn't quite ready to lose her. I wanted to hear about the program. And so much more......

The next days I mean to observe "shiva", the formal mourning period. It begins after the service (Monday afternoon is the present plan, although it needs to be finalized). I don't know if I'll be writing here during that time. If so -- you'll see it. If not --watch this space.

I'm very, very sad.

A Day of May to Celebrate!

2009-05-03T15:52:00.013-05:00

We are all affected by people, from the instant of our births. Some people inspire us, some entertain. Some nurture and love us; some live only to torment us. Hundreds of thousands of people walk past us in our lives, people with whom we share this day, this town, this state - country - continent.

There are people we encounter "in the ether" only: on the teevee, over the phone, walking around on the innerwebs. There are people who might be in our lives only briefly - and yet whose connection changes us in some profound way for all of our lives. Teachers, neighbors, friends, sweethearts. Clerks, salespeople, medical staff. We remember kindnesses, and we remember slights. The former may make US better, and we may "pay it forward"; the latter may make us angry or bitter - and hopefully we then encounter another kindness and carry on.

One of those people who has touched my life in a deep way is havin' hisself a birthday today. May 3, mark the date. May 3. I mean to honor him every year on May 3 for the rest of my life. He has given me courage when I needed it; he has delighted me every SINGLE time I've encountered him....either his image or his voice, since I first encountered him. I admired him from my initial awareness, and that admiration has deepened ever since and is now a true and abiding love. He's made me laugh, he's made me cry (with sadness, with tenderness, with joy), he's done something very few others have done in the whole of my life -- he's made me sing. Loud. In public.

Did I mention that he and I share space on this planet...on this continent...but I have never been in the same room or auditorium or open field with him?

This precious, darling, strong, brave, inspiring, poetic, gawky, homely lovely man whom I cherish so?

PETE SEEGER!

And thank you for every single moment I've had the pleasure and privilege of hearing you sing, or speak -- for your courage during the "blacklisting" period, for the strength you gave me and all the others during the Civil Rights movement. Thank you for saving the Hudson, for speaking out when needed, for standing tall when those of us around you needed someone to look up to. Thank you for your songs and your heart, your words and your philosophy. Thank you for writing on your banjo: "This machine surrounds hate -- and forces it to surrender"

Will I have you forever? No, not in life - I hope you sing at your 100th birthday, provided your health is good, but you will be with me until the end of MY life, in tapes and DVDs and CDs and songbooks - and in my heart. And Pete? When my time comes, the first thing I'm going to do when I stroll through that great woodland archway to the Other Side -- is find out where you're playing and singing, and I'm going to join the throngs and I'll sing along with you at the top of my lungs. (And probably - over there - I'll sound pretty good! )

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PETE!

HAPPY 90th BIRTHDAY, PETE SEEGER!

"What a Piece of Work is Man....

2009-04-23T07:34:00.004-05:00

...........how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how likea god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals..."

This is one of my favorite quotes by Will Shakespeare. Did you know he sometimes spelled his name "SHAXPER"? Spelling wasn't standardized so much in the 16th century.

Today, 23 April, marks the day accepted as William Shakespeare's birthday; therefore, I say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, BARD!

However.......today, 23 April, marks also the day known to be the one on which Our Noble Bard "shuffled off this mortal coil". Therefore, I say Woe betide us, for have we not lost the fairest flower e'er to sculpt the humble symbols we know as words?

Coming on the heels of my heightened awareness of literacy (and the lack thereof) I'd have to say that I'm guessing the number of people who revere, relish and enjoy Shakespeare's works - compared to the number of people in the world who DO read - is probably relatively small. There are many educated, cultured, literate people who either haven't ever read Shakespeare (except, perhaps, a wee mite under severe duress in a classroom). But there are some of us who DO read Shakespeare for pleasure, the plays, the sonnets....and some of us occasionally curl up with annotated works or discussions of Shakespeare's work or life or biographies.

When my first two babies were little....Lovely Daughter was two years old and Son #1 was just a couple of months old....I sat between their cribs for a while every afternoon to read them to sleep for their naps. And I read Shakespeare. One day my sister was coming over to visit; I told her when I buzzed her in that she should just come up and come in, I'd be with her shortly. (Had to finish the act - I think I was reading "Midsummer Night's Dream".)

When I closed the door and tiptoed out of the nursery, she said "What were you doing?" I said I was reading to the kidlets before their naps. Her eyes widened and she said "WHAT were you reading????" all aghast-like.

I told her, and she whuffed (you know, the sniff-with-shoulder-wiggle) and said "That's ridiculous, they don't understand that." I pointed out to her that they wouldn't understand "Hop on Pop" either, at that point, and I wanted them to hear the richest phrases their language possessed.

Now - before any Seuss-o-philes get up in arms, fear not. I ADORE Seuss and all of my children and any who come within reading distance are Seussed within an inch of their lives. Just sayin'.

Part of my adoration of Shakespeare may have come from my 11th grade English teacher (I'm blanking on his name, of course). He made us memorize long passages, he read aloud to us every day, and I can't speak for my classmates but he imbued my heart with a real passion for Shakespeare and his works.

Oh! Just remembered this. One day we got into class and he pulled the movie shades down, rendering the room almost totally dark. He then lit a big fat candle on his desk (no doubt against the rules) and told us to put our heads on our desks or cover our eyes. "NO PEEKING!" he said. He then read the Witches' Scene from Macbeth: "Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. "

He read the entire scene. I cannot lie: I peeked. Because he read it in three distinct voices, and I had to be SURE two other people hadn't slipped into the room to join him. One voice was dry, cracking and high; one was very throaty and evil-sounding; and the other dreamy and querelous. There were long pauses.....I would've sworn I heard some thick fluid bubbling.

Well, let's just say, he had me at: "Thrice the cat hath mew'd." I have a very special copy of Shakespeare's complete works, a gift from a former neighbor, and to this day it is NOT uncommon for me to pick it up and read a whole play, part of a sonnet.....

Now, for all of it, neither of my sons are big readers. Son #1 has a very analytical mind and is more likely to study a language on his own than read a novel; Son #2 really doesn't have much time to read anything.

But my daughter, my Lovely Daughter -- also reads Shakespeare for pleasure now and then, and enjoys the plays as much as I do.

Will Shaxper, you have my forever gratitude and deep affection. On this day I mourn your loss, I also celebrate - CELEBRATE!! your birth and every day of your life. For your gift, thank you.

What if You Couldn't Read?

2009-04-19T13:39:00.015-05:00

Illiteracy . Definition: "The condition of being unable to read and write . When I was a little kid, after supper was reading time. Dad sat down with his newspaper or a book; Mom had her Ladies' Home Journal, and my big sister always had a book going. At one point I decided that if I just stared really HARD at a book, the words in it would begin to make sense. (I may have told you this before....I'm old, cut me some slack.) I remember taking a book out the bookcase next to the fireplace, lying on the floor and staring at it. It didn't work. In later years I discovered that the book I had taken down was on Public Opinion and American Marketing...bleecch.

Of course I did learn to read - I think it was second grade, and they didn't have all those rewards, &c in those days but I learned FAST and always read "ahead of level."

My father sometimes reviewed books for the paper and often brought me review copies of kid books, and we always had lots and lots of fabulous books to read. "Illiteracy"? I thought it meant reading without pleasure, reading slowly.

I know I've told this before (but I'm not going back to look - if you've heard it skip on). When Willie and I were preparing to marry he had to get permission from his mother, and when it came it had a big black X on it surrounded by the words "Ella Mae Carter, her mark." She WAS illiterate (and that was, recall, 1965.)

Yesterday was an annual event at Border's, the Reading Marathon fundraiser for the local Literacy Network. In past years it was a 24-hour period; you could sign up for a stint and collect pledges. During the day they have Celebrity Readers on the hour, reading either from their own books or something else. I always liked taking something like 11:00 pm - 5:00 am. But this year it was just 9:00 am to 9:00 pm. I didn't get the email announcing it until Thursday, either. So I determined to just go, make a donation, and tuck into a corner to read for a few hours.

When I got there at 5:00 (having decided to read until 9) the Celebrity Reader was a veterinarian, Dr. Patricia McConnell. She's written DOZENS of books on dog training and understanding and grooming....and she has a program on NPR called "Calling All Pets" in which discusses qustions pertaining to ANY pets, it's a phone-in show. She's CHARMING!

She has voices....one for "dog talk" -- "Ooh, I'm so glad to see you, I'm going to wag my tail right off"....and another "dog-training voice"..."GUH-BOY, GUH-BOY!!" So I sat and listened to her until about 6:00. She's delightful. The whole audience sat and stayed during the entire reading.

I also noticed that they had a rather nice spread of munchies, so I staked out my little corner in the Children's Department and got a plateful.

By the way, I didn't read my dream book by Robert Moss; I actually decided to finally give myself a long interrupted read of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which I've been reading in wee hunks for some time. It's an "I CAN put it down to do something else but I'd rather not" sort of book. I made a little table for myself out of one of the stools for reaching books high up...there are a lot of those in the Children's Department for some reason...and settled in. The nosh? There was pita bread with a very smooth hummus, some of those (terrific) cup-shaped chips and some lovely rather sweet salsa and some tiny squares on crackers from a fancy restaurant. They seemed to have sundried tomatoes on a cracker with some mild sauce and teensy blobs of really good roquefort (which is, see earlier post, endangered).

These were beyond delicious! It was all I could do to not fill up my little plate from the silver tray of 'em. I even practiced saying "These should be fine for us all" before loading up and dodging back into my little corner -- but in the end I was good and only went back ~~once~~ -- uhm...~~twice~~...OK! I went THREE TIMES, but they were out-o'-sight. Oh. Well, when Mr Dearling stopped in for a visit I had him go get some for me too. Twice. So I could keep reading and shaddup about it.

I was there to read after all, not eat. Mostly. The upshot was that I made real progress on my book, enjoyed some very yummy treats - and I got a VERY NICE travel cup, gleaming metallic green with the Literacy Network logo on one side and all the corporate sponsors on the back. That was for my donation. It was a very nice evening - think of the luxury of tucking into a little corner with your only obligation being to READ - while enjoying some free munchies. My idea of a Great Evening, if I do say so myself.

And then, after all was said and done, books were packed away, paper plates discarded and I trundled happily home, feeling well-content and rather satisfied. And when I got home...

To sleep. We're good at that, too, in our house.

Too (two) Good Not to Share

2009-04-16T19:42:00.009-05:00

Can you believe THIS? Two posts in as many days? I guess it comes from not being able to talk. But there really ARE two things I have to share. Neither is probably new to you, but on the outside chance you've missed either one, here you go.

"You can't judge a book by its cover." We all know that. And of course, it's not ever wise to judge people based on their appearance. On the other hand, we all do that to a greater or lesser degree. I would never be taken for last season's winner on "America's Top Model." (OK, in the name of Full Disclosure, I wasn't actually last season's winner. I think I might have been but it's the height thing again.) Ballet, modeling, basketball....not good goals for 4'11" women even before they become 66 years old.

So let me show you my my new Inspiration . I'll wait here - if you haven't seen this yet (hard to imagine) then I'll wait while you a) watch it; b) go get a tissue; c) watch it again (twice); d) mop your eyes. I am SO loving this dear, sweet girl. I consider it a privilege to live in a time where technology affords me the opportunity to see her.

You know - here's sweet Susan, and before her was Paul Potts, the cell-phone salesman, remember? Singing opera? And you know, that pleasant-looking welfare mom. The one with the tablet and pen in the coffee shop? Wrote a little book - or seven...let's see, "Harry" something?

Yep, I consider it a privilege to be alive and have access to these plain, simple, dear folks who have clearly been touched by the Creator. It's a global village, and BOY am I proud of my neighbors living across the lake.

OK - the second bit I MUST share was something I wrote about here , having heard about it on NPR. This is a book that appears on every writers' bookshelves (or should) and it's been around roughly forever. And a day. But there was something about it I missed, which was generously linked for me by my friend kittymommy (whose darling children I adore, but that's beside the point). And this something about which you have to go read. Only don't wait because it would be a shame to miss it's humor, and, anyway, everyone can use, you know, a chuckle. Before long. So if you no how to use this computer thingie, then, right away, go here: at this place , and readify it!!!! You will wonder how on earth up with it you did not put up untill this time right now!!!! It has, among other things, which I consider important, some things, of a kind of, you know, importance to know if your going to be a writer, and its always a good life. Unless your nogood at it and like that!!! And then you'll thank me, in case, thought its hard to imagine, somehow you maybe didn't know all that. Or have your own copy. Like I do, I have my own. Go get one. And a cupcake to celebrate, now that Passover is over. Happy Birthday, Book. (Yesterday.)

Silence of the.....

2009-04-16T09:48:00.009-05:00

...blogger. I have no voice. Laryngitis. If I tried forming words on Sunday - I could barely whisper. Much better today - I'm croaking. Mostly. DARN, I was supposed to sing the solo in Handel's "Messiah" Friday night! (Oh, I am SO making that up - I may have mentioned that I'm on the Federal No-Sing list.) I haven't even had the luxury of feeling really sick - just low on energy, sleeping a lot, listless. The medical term is bleeccchh. I've missed work all week {sigh}.

HOWEVER! Over the last few days, I've noticed some wonderful GOOD, some wretched BAD - and nothing ugly, actually unless you count my voice. Which you can't hear anyway. Therefore, here are a few observations in no particular order.

BAD: there's a flap going on in a small town nearby; they had a referendum about whether or not to withdraw adding fluoride to the water. the Village Board was against it (I don't know how many ist on the board.) Well...it was on the ballot, and passed (to add the fluoride) by a vote of two-to-one . Last night on the news they talked to one of the Board Members. He said, in essence, that he felt not enough of the population had voted; the fact that those who DID were strongly in favor of replacing the fluoride was irrelevant. Therefore the Board struck it down. SAY WHAT?? (May I add - he was an older gentleman clearly missing most of his bottom teeth. Probably should've had...say it all together now: FLUORIDE! Twilight Zone moment. Oh yeah.)

GOOD: Same news show: in Logan, North Dakota, many of the fields are flooding (that's not the "good") -- there was a lovely community effort, and 100 pregnant ewes were successfully put into big flat-bottom boats and successfully moved to some fine fields on high ground! They're due to lamb in about a month. HOORAY FOR ALL THAT LOVELY YARN SAVED! (Not to mention, saving sheepy mommies, that's a big mitzvah.) A round of applause for Loganites. I'll wait. In fact...stand up. Standing ovation. Yeah.

BAD: A big memo went around to all the businesses, &C around the Capital Square. I'll paraphrase: "To whomsoever has been carpeting the Capitol grounds with peanuts (that's close to literal), please cease and desist. The squirrels are, of course, loving it - but lots of schoolchildren visit the Capitol every day in the spring, and (are you ready for this?) a lot of children have serious peanut allergies and might be affected."

I am NOT downplaying allergies, and I know that there is a sensitivity that's literally life-threatening. But.....hasn't there always been? And most of the children touring the Capitol tour our Museum too...they're 4th graders. I just am of the mind that children in elementary school recognize peanuts and KNOW if they're allergic, and children too small to recognize them are in charge of mommies who DO know.

Now - apparently whoever was feeding the fat little rodents (and we all know at least ONE knitter and maybe two who have a serious problem with individual squirrels), were only trying to be nice. I also agree that CARPETING the lawn with peanuts is overdoing it. I mean, those things are good protein but they're also loaded with salt and can't be good for the squirrels. The memo should have said "Use only a FEW raw boiled peanuts in the shell". OK, 'nuff said.

GOOD: I'm writing now at noon, and it's 61 degrees out.

This is Lucy, my Mother's Day lilac. She stood naked all winter and I was VERY tempted to wrap little knit stemwarmers around her, but didn't have any on hand. She is, after all, a Wisconsin child.

These, ladies and gentlemen, are clearly LEAVES! I believe, therefore, that Lucy has given me permission to tempt the Fates, risk the sneaky foul old Frost Giants, and boldly declare:

It is SPRING!! HAPPY SPRING!

A Warm Sunny Day...

2009-04-12T09:35:00.011-05:00

To the celebrants of Easter: Happy Easter! The concept "He is Risen!" is one of hope, of a belief in an aferlife. Friends have explained to me that it's the basis of their faith, that when they die they'll abide and be reunited with beloved family and bask in Heavenly Glory. The idea of getting to meet those who have Passed Beyond is very appealing to me. I'd love to see my dad again, and mom too, I suppose. I've lost friends through the years and I'd very much like to hang out and have a beer with them (assuming a) there's beer Over There; and b) that my allergy to carbonation will disappear Over There)

And laugh if you will, but I have a List of folks I mean to look up when I get there (assuming a) that I do get there, which seems questionable; and b) that they're there too, which may depend on whether or not there IS an Over There, which begins getting into a theological discussion and we're not going there. Right now.)

So who's on your list, Dale-Harriet? Well - Shakespeare. Harriet Tubman. Queen Elizabeth I. Edgar Allen Poe. Jean Nicolet. Anna Pavlova. Truth is? The list changes, but I like thinking about it. And it might be interesting finding out what my ancestors think of me. Or not.

When I was little I had a best friend (BFF, you know) who was Catholic; she always gave up candy for Lent and sought out ways to collect it. Then, after Easter, she'd lay out this huge spread and all the kids in the neighborhood would get to share it. Now I think on it, what a neat thing to do! But I remember lying on the grass in our front yard and asking her what bunnies and chocolate eggs (and bunnies who LAY chocolate eggs, apparently) had to do with Jesus. She didn't know. We agreed that it didn't matter, and it made for lovely Easter baskets from Nana.

Since then I've read up on Oestre, the Celtic dawn goddess, who was accompanied by symbols of birth, rebirth, springtime, burgeoning nature...... I also learned that the very smart early priests figured that if they nudged Christian ideas and ideals in WITH the popular pagan celebrations, the lovely country folk would be more accepting. So many good o' mainstream Christian holidays maintain charming bits of earlier beliefs, which I think enhance them in a pleasing way. (Think mistletoe, and holly and ivy, for example.)

And of course it's Passover. Pesach. Coincidence that it always falls around Easter? Nope; Passover is on the lunar calendar. In fact, Jesus (who was, after all, a Jew) celebrated Passover himself. Of course, if you continue thinking along these lines, there is instant realization that human beings have celebrated the earliest signs of spring from the beginnings of time. At the end of winter, particularly in the early agrarian communities, not only is there the optimism of a new food supply, but the whole return of mild weather, the musical birds, the delightful foliage...being able to go out without eighteen layers of clothing and heavy boots - is very welcome. Of course, we may not be able to wear our heaviest hand-knits for a while, but it's still worth it. There are always fancy-schmancy scarves and lace shawls.

When I was kid we always celebrated Passover with relatives (my upbringing was a very traditional Conservative Judaism). My father presided over the seder; generally my uncles and male cousins sat down at dad's end of the table and read the service, and my sister and I, Mom, and the aunts and girl cousins sat at the other end. Dad read the whole Haggadah, stopping now and then to frown over his glasses at our end of the table, where there was an active conversation about styles or gossip. I was the youngest, so I got to open the door for Elijah and I will defy ANYONE, to this day, who questions that I felt a breeze pass me when he entered or saw the level of wine in his glass go down. (One of the cool parts of the seder is when the door is opened for the Prophet Elijah, who allegedly comes in and sips from a special glass of wine reserved for him. ) Judaism is nothing if not bound by tradition; every year there were comments about the state Elijah must be in when he gets home, after visiting ever single Jewish home in the world and having a sip of wine.

Since my own children were born, we've pretty much just celebrated Chanukah and Passover. Chanukah's blended in with Christmas (birthday of a Jewish kid with a Mexican name, after all) and there were no seders when the kids were little. But they always talked about their holidays at school and brought menorahs to show and that sort of thing. I never complained about their singing carols with their schoolmates or anything - I think one can sing carols with a love of music, of the beautiful melodies, without casting off thousands of years of religious heritage. (I LOVE me some Christmas carols.)

Nowadays - and since the kids were a little older - I clean out and get rid of all tref (foods not allowed during Passover) and I separate meat and milk with each meal. There are "Meat" shelves and "Milk" shelves in the fridge. (My mother had two very separate sets of dishes and silverware; Orthodox Jews sometimes have separate stoves and refrigerators, &c.) I don't buy kosher meat or replace all my tea or buy kosher dish soap, but there's only matzoh and I make noodle kugels and chicken soup (with very superior matzoh balls, you don't mind my saying).

Might I add - every year I have to get out my Jewish Housekeeping book to see what IS tref; I can never keep it straight.

Mr Dearling, raised in a much more Jewish area than I (LonG IslanDt) is very patient with it. He's missed a fine Easter dinner with delicious ham and trimmings every year -- one year Easter actually fell AFTER Passover, but we didn't have an Easter dinner that year either, as I recall. Also - he LOVES matzoh! But it's like turkey at Thanksgiving; we never think of having it during the year, although it's available.

Lilliane loves matzoh too. REALLY loves it!

Loves it enough to help herself....

So......to one and all, Happy Easter! Happy Passover! Springtime is nigh and there's an abundance of delicious foods around.......are we not blessed?

A Nod to the Big Time....

2009-04-07T00:58:00.014-05:00

This won't be a surprise to any of US, of course, but there was a piece on the morning news the other day about the advantages of knitting! It was a pretty cute piece, actually, and the reporter lady went to a LYS there in New York to learn how. The visit was apparently some weeks before the spot aired, because she presented her colleagues with very neatly done garter-stitch scarves!

NOTE: these pictures are off of the teevee; hence, not great quality - and embarrassingly, I can't remember the reporter's name. But she is very elegant...and she sat right down and asked to learn to knit while asking the reporter-y questions. The thrust of the spot was that knitting is in and hip, "not your grandmother's skill anymore", and is very relaxing.

NOTE: there is nothing wrong with grandmas' knitting. Nor 4'11" bubbehs either. Deal.

'Nother note: the caption reads "Can you crochet your cares away?" but the images were all of knitters. Still, that's correct too - my friend Donna crochets (masterfully, might I add) and is clearly reaping the same benefits that I find in knitting. I did think it was interesting that they said that, though, and then mentioned crochet only once and perhaps not even that!

She seems to have caught on pretty well, and there were shots that I thought brought out the atmosphere of the LYS, too. NOTE again: you can see, from the time block, that these aren't in order, but you know, that's fine.

There were a couple of fellows in the shop, and they let that speak for itself,none of this "Oh gee, looky there, even boys knit!" I'm guessing that this fellow had been at it a while, judging from the really fine scarf he's wearing. It's some nice variegated yarn too - I'm tempted to say "Clearly it's a Noro Kureyon in the purple-and-teal colourway"........but I couldn't tell from the quick shot on the teevee, I'm not that good at idenifying yarns.

As this is a segment in the "how to improve your life in these stressful times" series on the show, there were Dramatic Statistics interspersed with the yarn shop scenes....and might I add - I intended to post these the same day they aired, but the truth is I forgot . I must be the Rule-Proving Exception. *Heh*

Is this a boy studying the Torah for his Bar Mitzvah? NO! He is a devout Knitter examining the pattern with the trusty Second Opinion - a scene familiar to us all. "So....it says repeat the pattern three times - do I have to frog ALL the way back?"

Of course, it read "strengthens IMMUNE SYSTEMS".....I took the picture before it had loaded. For some reason, I found myself moved to holler "YER PREACHIN' TO THE CHOIR HERE, FOLKS!" It was spontaneous, just burst right out of me. I sometimes forget that there are people who are NOT watching the morning news show while they finish up a preemie cap or weave in some ends or are casting on for something. (I KNOW, can you even BELIEVE it???)

As you can see, Harry Smith put on his new muffler immediately; I wish I'd recorded this instead of just photographed it. For all of it, the comments were positive, the narration and dialogue at the yarn shop sincere and interesting, and I felt proud to be a member of The Community. There was not one snide reference to Grandmaw, and all in all it was a very nice bit.

Of course, while watching I was knitting. I was working on a cotton preemie cap (Debbie Bliss "Pure Cotton", deliciously soft, from The Sow's Ear ). I've been using a "cat safe", an idea I saw at the Knit-In (believe it or not, SOME of what I saw walking around with the Yarn Harlot DID register). The wonderful ceramicist had little bowls, upside down, with a hole in the center of the bottom. You thread your yarn through the hole and knit away, and the skein is under the bowl and safe! The ones there were darling, with happy sheeps dancing on them....but helas! a bit out of my budget. So I went to the nearby garden shop and bought a flower pot with a hole in the bottom to use instead. NOTE: it works brilliantly - but you DO have to find one glazed inside AND out, because otherwise the hole has rough edges that will shred the yarn. I thought to get a plain terra cotta pot and decorate it myself, but the holes in those are downright SHARP.

Hard to tell in the picture - but the little cap MATCHES the flower pot cat-safe! Absolute coincidence...well, unless you realize that I'm drawn to sage greens and french blues and that sort of thing. Here's a little brighter shot:

This idea is fanTAStic...and if I see that ceramicist again, I WILL buy one of her pots, because I've wished I had ever since. Something about dancing sheepies, I must say.

OH - and better yet: I find that I can wind off a ball of yarn onto my winder on the kitchen table with this easily; otherwise Lilliane goes NUTSO trying to chase the dancing ball all over the table. By and large, my kitties DO remember the Household Law: "You are a KNITTER'S CAT and you do NOT play with, chase or chew on yarn." But a dancing, skittering yarn ball attached to the spinning winder is more than Lilli can keep her claws off of. Hooray for Cat-Safes!

Now I'm off to clean out my cupboards in preparation for Passover - I'll do my shopping later this evening. Have I mentioned that I tape the freezer shut and write "TREF" in big letters on the masking tape? I can hear de Lawd chuckling as he peers down on me....

So where's the PRUFREEDER?

2009-04-03T10:04:00.008-05:00

Those who know me, know I have am very particular about The English. I seem to have a gift when it comes to spotting typographical errors, misspellings, &c. I think I came by it honestly, and attribute it to the Journalism Gene inherited from my Newspaperman Father. I can glance at a page and spot errors instantly. Once, on a car trip, we drove past a historical marker in Arizona, on the highway. Dad said, "There was an error on that sign." Mom said, "Oh, come ON, Sid, you couldn't have seen it driving by this fast. Turn around." He laughed...but did, and you guessed it: there WAS an error on it. I inherited that.

Now, let me say that I'm not stuffy about it; I know that some people have as much trouble with The English as I do with Wicked Maths. But I do feel that standards should be upheld in print . Books, newspapers, SIGNS -- they should be examined and tidied up and should be guaranteed to be 100% free of typos, spelling errors and so on.

Yesterday we went to vote, and on the way back to the Museum to get our stuff, passed a fabulous shop, Fromagination,which sells all manner of wonderful cheese from all over the world. Right outside there was a chalkboard:

Mr Dearling said, "No more ROQUERFORT??" I said "Wait a minute -- roqueRfort??" He said, "Gee, I wonder why no more?" and I said, "I don't think that second "r" should be there." As you see, though, it's spelled that way three times...and the sign's handwritten. My first inclination was to hurry in and report it so they could fix it. I must admit, though, I had a moment of uncertainty - until we looked up and saw this, the front of the shop:

See the banner? "ROQUEFORT". So we did go in, and mentioned it -- the proprietor thanked us and said he was going to go get it when finished with his customer (there were, as usual, quite a few). So we headed out.....(by the way, it has something to do with some tariffs or wossname - if you want good roquefort cheese, get it now!)

Next we stopped at Hilldale Shopping Center on our way home. I really like it there, it's a very nice small mall. I was looking for a pair of black dress gloves to wear with Mary Hayes Chynoweth's walking suit. I looked at Macy's and a couple of boutiques - without luck. (Seems that ladies don't wear gloves any more.) (Small silent sigh of regret.)

So we stopped at the Directory to see if there might be a shop I hadn't thought of as a possibility. This is a good director, because it's clear, the diagram is straightforward and the shops are listed by type. I had stood there ONE MILLESECOND...and then I saw it:

TWICE!! I could hear my little in-brain teacher chanting "If it's not moving, it's stationAry; if it's going in an Envelope, it's stationEry...."E" for "ENVELOPE".

I shuddered. I almost gagged. This was a professional sign, probably made on a computer. Of course, this wouldn't be caught by Spell-Check, because "stationary" IS spelled right, but only -- it's the wrong word. (I've said it more than once: I'm very glad I was born speaking English because it must be a son-of-a-gun to learn.)

Well....that's pretty bad. I'm guessing that Sarah B. never looked at this, because surely she would have caught it. I enjoyed my moment of Righteous Indignation. (I'm old, allow me a foible.)

Then -- I SAW IT! Are you ready? I mean...really ready? OK ---

Chinese food, anyone?

OY. VEY.

So How Old ARE You.....

2009-04-01T18:45:00.011-05:00

We have a 1948 Nash in the Museum. (It was made in Wisconsin.) The driver's door is off (in storage) to reveal the interior of the front seat, and it's right inside the door on third floor, where I start my tours. As the kids come through the door, invariably at least one kid shouts "Suuuuu-WEEET!" I show off the car, asking the youngsters what they would expect to see if the car were new...they guess "seatbelts", and I tell them that "We learn from history". Then I tell them about bringing my baby daughter home in a laundry basket on the back seat of the car. (It was a Volkswagon and she was snuggled into a lot of cozy blankets.) Of course they're horrified.....

Well, today a girl asked, "How old are you? What was it like when you were a little kid?" I started thinking back, and when I got home I was hit by a real bout of Nostalgic Reminiscence. And I remembered one day in particular especially vividly for some reason. Now - if you're training for theatre you learn about something called "Sensory recollection" - seeing something can bring back a stark memory including all the senses...it might be the memory of standing in the kitchen, JUST tall enough to see over the edge of the table, and looking at and smelling those cinnamon cookies as Grandma took them out of the oven.

Well - I remember one time getting to go along when my family started preparing for a really big family dinner over at my aunt's house --I think it was a Passover Seder, or perhaps Thanksgiving. I apologize for the quality of the pictures....I think my big sister took the pictures because she had to stay by me. I wasn't allowed to be too close; I was only about three and would have gotten in the way:

Looking at this, I remember how excited Mom was when the guy from the meat market delivered the roasts. Of course, in those days she had to do a lot more work - I even remember her cutting the legs off chickens and putting them in the soup. Anyway, everyone used to get together to cook for the big holidays. You can see my Bubbeh here, she always said the meat around the ankles was the tenderest of all.

Uncle Izzy used to always get the job of peeling the food...bananas, oranges, mammoths. The bigger pieces he could get off the better because Mom could make clothes out of it and stuff. You can see my cousin Billy over on the left with Aunt Lucille and Uncle Bertram. He was a real brat back then but they were the rich branch of the family and Aunt Lucille always had to make a special meal for him because he always said he didn't like whatever everyone else was having. Even when Grandma saved him the bobbles to play with. He was spoiled.

See now, my sister took this picture because you can see Mom hurrying away with the tenderloin there. That was her speciality. Yeah, I think this must have been for Passover because we usually ate that part by the front leg instead of that beautiful tenderloin.

Well....I have to say, I was glad I found these pictures -- although you know how I said "sensory recollection"? I sort of wish I hadn't thought of this because I have to tell you.....I think I've spent the last 3,412 years trying to forget that smell. What was it like?

Don't ask. You don't want to know.

Anyone got any mints?