The View from 256

Never Underestimate the Power of a Few

2012-01-26T12:32:00.004-05:00

They miss my friend Nancy on her home planet. I say that only affectionately, because I treasure her and value her intellect. But she is different. She calls God “the Matrix.” Nancy dyes her hair with black walnuts. Nicknamed Tink, for Tinkerbelle, she is an animated under five feet tall dynamo who looks at least 15 years younger than she is. If you have an ailment, Nancy has the natural remedy and it works.

When I first moved here, we had a blighted block of Section-8 housing at the entrance to the neighborhood that looked horrendous. Nancy vowed that a linear park could go there, after we took that block down through the civic league. People looked at her like she had two heads. Look at that block twelve years later. We call it Scotts Creek Park.

I don’t talk much about my civic involvement in Portsmouth here on the blog. I’m blessed to live in a neighborhood where a few can make a difference. So when Nancy called me and said that we had to do something about a proposal to build a sulfur processing plant with two 150 foot smokestacks on the Elizabeth River near my house, I listened.

Not to get into a big discussion, but sulfur goes on fire very easily, so companies dampen it when processing to reduce the risk. Mr. Paquette told me that some day I'd need the periodic table, so I should pay attention in chemistry class. He was right. I had to look up the process, but sulfur+water=sulfuric acid, right on a river. Not good. However, never underestimate the power of stealthy, middle-aged co-conspirators.

We even surprised even ourselves as other civic leaders from several communities came on board. In three weeks, the following headline appeared in the local paper:

Company Drops Portsmouth in Plans for Sulfur Plant

http://hamptonroads.com/2012/01/company-drops-portsmouth-plans-sulfur-plant

Do you ever feel like you are one person and you can’t do too much? It isn’t true. As Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever does.”

Weekly Menu Plan

2012-01-22T20:04:00.003-05:00

I cook almost everything we eat, whether it is consumed on the road to work, at work, or at home. I'm getting on the bandwagon and posting my menus along with Frugal Girl and a lot of others. Pic courtesy of Cooking in the country.

Menu Plan Monday

Monday

B – steel cut oatmeal, cranberries

L – eggs, turkey sausage, potatoes

D – chicken stir fry, brown rice, cucumber salad

Tuesday

B - steel cut oatmeal, apples

L – turkey soup, cucumber salad, fruit

D – chili, cabbage winter salad, cornbread

Wednesday

B - steel cut oatmeal, frozen fruit

L – chili, cabbage winter salad

D – Impossible broccoli pie http://www.food.com/recipe/impossible-broccoli-pie-37876, peas, baked yams

Thursday

B – egg sandwich, sliced oranges

L– impossible broccoli pie, peas

D – split pea soup, Texas toast, deviled eggs.

Friday

B - steel cut oatmeal, frozen fruit

L – deviled eggs, split pea soup

D – baked potatoes stuffed with turkey and gravy, spinach, cabbage salad

Saturday

B - egg sandwiches, sliced oranges

L – baked potatoes stuffed with turkey and gravy, sliced apples

D – chicken parmesan, spinach, pasta

Sunday

B - oatmeal, frozen fruit

L – chicken parmesan, peas

D – homemade pizza with caramelized onions and two cheeses, sautéed cabbage

http://orgjunkie.com/2012/01/menu-plan-monday-jan-2312-menu-planning-with-picky-eaters.html

How My Mammogram Turned into Flat Stanley

2012-01-21T11:44:00.003-05:00

Okay, you know who Flat Stanley is, yes? Flat Stanley is an idea to help children understand travel and to feel closer to those who are away. FS, as his hip close friends like me call him, started out as a children’s book in the 1960’s. In this charming book, a kid helps his father create a bulletin board full of pics and then dreams about the activity later. As FS, instead of the real child, he had all kind of adventures in his dreams.

Sometimes a kindergarten class creates an FS and sees how far he can travel with relatives of class members or with the kids themselves. My brother-in-law took FS to Kiev in the former Soviet Union when he was on a mission trip. FS can also travel with Mommy while she deploys to the Middle East.

Here’s FS with his good friend the former President of the United States:

What does this have to do with a breast cancer scare? When the Naval Hospital called me in December to advise that I had an abnormal mammogram, I was not scheduled for a follow up until after Christmas. Happy holidays to me.

What’s a girl to do? She calls her father. My father is the former Connecticut Commissioner of Public Health, an Ivy League graduate and physician who now works in Hartford Hospital’s clinic for lower-income people. Dad says that’s where God wants him. He could be golfing and sitting on the boat, but I digress. Dad said, “send the film up by Federal Express. I’ll have a radiologist look at it. It is probably nothing.” For long-term blog readers, the father who died back a year and a half ago, Papa, was my stepfather.

UPS was closer and I sent the CD off. I double-checked the address. Both the lady who provided me with the CD (they call it film, though) and the sweet UPS employee who wrapped and addressed it, prayed with me. And if you don’t think it is a miracle to have a Navy employee pray with you unbidden in a military facility, you don’t know much about God working incognito.

And that’s when the adventure of FS aka the mammogram CD began. My mammogram traveled all over the Greater Hartford area. They tried to deliver it to an office which my father had ten years ago in another town. They tried to deliver it to the State Health Department. They tried to deliver it to my uncle. He’s a dentist, so he was confused. I tried to have them deliver it to my father’s house, but they insisted that his address was the police department. It wasn’t. My father suggested that it might turn up at Shady Glen, where we used to go for mocha chip ice cream, or Sunset Ridge Elementary School where I enjoyed my grammar school days.

The problem? There is no suite number at the clinic where my father works. The facility takes up the entire second floor. Apparently UPS needs a suite number or maybe a busy driver didn’t want to walk up the stairs. Did you know that when you sign the UPS form to send a package, you also sign off on their policy that if they think that they can deliver your package to a better address to reach your addressee, they will! How do I know this? They told me at the legal department at UPS corporate headquarters in Atlanta.

I talked to everyone at UPS in late December. Seriously, I think I did. The crew over there in India who handle incoming calls. Namaste, guys! The group at the Hartford office. One woman there was especially delightful when she told me that it was the busiest day of the year for her and she needed to get off the phone.

It is nearly impossible for me to understand how we can have such a high unemployment rate in this country and have folks who have jobs act like this. Had another interesting call with Mike, her supervisor, who fixed the problem and told me what a pill she is.

Bottom line? Five days after I mailed it express, the CD arrived at the Hartford Hospital clinic. Diagnosis? It was nothing.

I enjoyed my holiday knowing that I was cancer free. I had a follow up at the Naval Hospital which confirmed my Flat Stanley diagnosis. The roses and lilies from UPS Corporate that lasted into the New Year were gorgeous. UPS is really sorry for my inconvenience.

Thank you, God.

More Than Enough

2011-12-18T18:36:00.000-05:00

I had a “routine” cancer screening last week. On Friday night, after 8 p.m. I had an incoming call with the Naval Hospital exchange listed. I felt my heart stop for a minute. They don’t call you at 8 p.m. from the Naval Hospital to say, “Hey, Annie, thanks for being such a great patient and have a Merry Christmas.” There’s a problem with that test which I have to wait to unravel until after the first of the year.

For a few hours, the ground under my feet gave way. I wasn’t up for more health challenges. Finally I dug into Psalm 46, you know, the one that says, “Be still and know that I am God.” That has been a much loved verse for many years. As I read through that Psalm and took in the study notes, I had a revelation.

“Be still and know that I am God,” sounds gentle. The original Hebrew words for “be still” are a bit different. The study notes told me that what God actually said was an imperative that would sound something like this. ENOUGH! Enough! I am God.

That Word from God dried up my tears and hiccupping pretty quickly. Those words were just the same as a parent would say to a child in the midst of a tantrum or to unruly children making entirely too much noise. ENOUGH! My mother and father have both said that to me many times.

Does He say “ENOUGH” to us because He can’t deal with us for one more minute? No. He says “ENOUGH” because He wants us to hear what comes next. “I am God.” Stop your panic. Stop your noise. Stop your tears. ENOUGH! I am God.

All of You is more than enough for all of me
For every thirst and every need
You satisfy me with Your love
And all I have in You is more than enough

(Chris Tomlim sings it a lot better than I do.)

Chris Tomlin More Than Enough

Papa's Jacket

2011-12-13T11:53:00.000-05:00

It was my Papa's birthday at the end of last week. I was out at my Mom's in Williamsburg on Wednesday taking some things to Goodwill. In preparation for this post, I took the pic you see above. The problem was, I just couldn't sit down to write about it.

This is Papa's jacket, where he left it that last time he left Williamsburg and went back to Atlanta for more treatment. We all kind of stroke it when we walk past, a visible talisman; a touchstone of the person who never has really left us in our thoughts.

When I wrote his eulogy, I put in a section about how much I would miss his coffee. He made the best coffee, infused with either cinnamon or allspice. I'd look forward to having it every time we were together. When I wrote his eulogy, I mentioned that it was a blessing that the last time he handed me a cup, I didn't know it really was going to be the last time.

I did pretty well during the eulogy, but when I looked down at my notes about the coffee, I knew that I couldn't get through that part. In order to maintain my compsure, I skipped it. That thing about the "last time" really gets to me. I know where he is, but I really miss him. Who knew that the last time he hung his Williamsburg jacket on the hook that it was really going to be the last time?

I mean, brethren, the appointed time has been winding down and it has grown very short.
1 Corinthians 7:29, Amplified version

Lessons About God from a Dog

2011-12-09T07:48:00.003-05:00

I have struggled for my entire life to understand the love of God. There, I said it. For various reasons, I have often been overwhelmed with my concept of myself, a flawed human being, loved despite all my mistakes by a perfect God.

I know all the theology involved, but there is a difference between comprehending something in your head and feeling something deep within your being. I understand objectively that Jesus has already paid the price for my sin, but my innate ability to be incredibly hard upon myself causes me to feel separated from God’s love a lot of the time. Mind you, I could tell any one of you reading this why you are always loved by God. I could cite the correct chapters and verses, but inside I’ve often felt that they applied to everyone but me.

God has presented me with lessons over the years which helped me better understand Him and his everlasting love for me, but I just couldn’t take it on board. And then God sent Lulu.

I’ve had some great dogs; Alex, Maxine, Lupa, Little Bit, Francis, and now Lulu, the best gift of them all. Lulu doesn’t do a lot of tricks. She sits and she walks well on the leash. Lulu looks adorable and everyone who sees her loves her. Like most of the best things in life, she was free. A neighbor called me and asked me to come look at the stray dogs in her yard. One of them was Lulu.

God has truly used Lulu in my life to help me understand His unconditional love. You see, sometimes Lulu does bad stuff. She doesn’t mean to, she just can’t help digging big holes in the yard. When she digs, she tracks in unbelievable amounts of dirt that I have to sweep up. Much like God has to sweep up after me.

Last week, she decided to dig the pillow top thingey on top of the mattress. There was “memory foam” everywhere and a guilty little dog licking her lips while I stood there saying, “Did you do THAT?”

But here’s the deal. I didn’t love her any less. I know her heart. I know she loves me and she wants to please me. She sometimes has a hard time controlling her impulses, but her heart is in the right place.

When Lulu loves on you, she just leans into your chest, rests her head on your shoulder, and puts her whole weight on you. This is what God wants me to do with Him. Then He says, “Good girl.” He knows my heart. It took a stray white dog to teach me that.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love.” Jeremiah 31:3

The Ick Factor

2011-12-07T10:24:00.002-05:00

It’s the story, of a crufty bathtub which was growing nasty mold upon the grout…(to the musicians, sing to the tune of “Brady Bunch”)

Okay, my bathtub has ISSUES. My house is almost one hundred years old and the tub is nearly that old. Not charming, claw footed, and Victorian old. Just old. I looked into replacing it, but the length is smaller than is standard today. There is a slender wall that separates it from the commode which cannot be removed without the ceiling coming down. I said commode because I think it sounds more genteel than toilet.

I had the tub refinished which worked well for ten years. Then the grout between the tub and the tile got icky. Icky is a professional plumbing term. I tried everything to clean it. Then I asked the handier member of the house to take over. The project just kind of sat because he’s kinda busy. Then he happened upon a product that is a sort of a tape which can replace traditional grout. Eureka.

Only it wasn’t applied right and kept peeling off. The grout underneath was ickier than ever. So I pulled the tape off. I shut my mouth about the public housing project appearance in my tub, cleaning it as best I could. Finally I asked that it be scheduled for repair. Three months later an expert job was done that looks like this.

Okay, are you kidding me?

What is up with that color?

So I went nuts over the two-year bathtub saga with my good friend, Terry. She gave me wise words of reason. Finally, I addressed the “plumber” saying “Hey awesome job that you did on the tub. I was so blessed by not seeing the nasty grout this morning. What was your thinking about the color?”

“That’s the only color it comes in.”

“No, I just went to Lowes, they sell it in white. They were just out of stock. You got the color they call “biscuit.”

“Biscuit was a color?”

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I thought biscuit referred to the round shape the roll of tape came in.”

Seriously?

This post brought to you by “Men Are From Mars, Women are From Venus” and the exclamation “arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

On The Fifth Day of December My Friend Nancy Gave To Me…

2011-12-06T14:56:00.003-05:00

The last vegetables from her garden…festively

Aren’t we lucky to have such a long growing season here in the Tidewater area of Virginia? My friends are such a blessing to me. Look at this basket of vegetables, looking very holly jolly and Christmas-y in red and green. I made potato leek soup from that basket and used the green peppers in baked ziti that I brought to the civic league meeting last night. And I still have some vegetables left over!

I always get creative when my mother or a friend blesses me with something from the store. They often give me things I don’t ordinarily buy, like leeks in Nancy’s case or citron in my mother’s. That citron looks like some crazy thing from another planet, but it smelled exotically wonderful and tasted even better used with a chicken recipe.

The unusual items get my creative juices flowing. This makes me think that I should be more adventurous at the grocery store and buy my own unusual items from time to time.

We all have ruts of thinking, ruts in cooking, and ruts in our routine. So shake it up. Buy something new to try like parsnips or garam masala or a different type of flavored coffee. Mix up your Bible reading and devotional time. I had my devotions outside today, because the temperature is in the 70’s. God makes all things new again, but we can cooperate, get with His program, and try something out of the usual routine.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

2011-12-05T09:27:00.006-05:00

I had an impromptu gathering of old friends and new neighbors yesterday...just some baked brie, apples and crackers http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/baked_brie/ with some Goldfish and chocolate milk for the kids. As I looked around the house, I just didn't think it looked Christmas-y enough for guests. I know I'm not called to be Martha Stewart with housing perfection, but I just felt a little burst of energy to do something...well, different,

Things being tight, I thought about what I had on hand. This is what I came up with in about twenty minutes. My "assistant" did the lights.

I have a large stairwell which can be seen from the foyer and the living room. I thought this would be a fun place for a tree.

This lovely doll with a bisque face was sent by a wonderful blog reader a while back. Her daughter works at my local Goodwill.

We used to celebrate Saint Nicholas Day on December 5 when I was a kid. My mother outdid herself on holidays. We would wake up to find candy and little toys in our shoes, which was the tradition. Yesterday was Saint Nicholas Day, which must have been how I came up with the stuff in the shoes. Please note the initials on the suitcase, which once belonged to a Mary Lou Kennedy. The inner-city children we mentored firmly believed that this was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s suitcase "back in the day."

My Nana's engagement picture. Annie, my great-grandmother, made her dress.

Enjoy the Christmas season!

My Beloved Waltons....How on earth could it be 40 years?

2011-12-03T18:50:00.005-05:00

Just in case you guys didn't see this on Friday, I want to share something wonderful with you. The Walton family reunited on the Today Show with Matt Lauer to talk about old times. How on earth can John Boy (Richard Thomas) look just the same?

When things were falling apart with my own mother and father, they were there. Maybe we need to find them again. In the despair of the Depression and of World War II, they triumphed...together. They made do...together. They prayed, they ate together as a family, and met every challenge...together. I loved them. Check out the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feqfsbnlKuQ

Good night John Boy. Good night Mary Ellen. Good night Ben. Good night Elizabeth. Ahhhhh, home. Did you know the narrator was Earl Hamner, Jr., the real John Boy? Cue the harmonica music. Good night, everyone. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cp7_u0kcQRo

Stuff It!

2011-12-03T10:11:00.001-05:00

Looking for a cheap fix for dinner? You can’t go wrong with a baked stuff potato or yam. Yams were on sale for me locally at 28 cents a pound, so I stocked up.

You can stuff a baked potato with almost anything and it turns out tasty. What goes into a stuffed baked potato? Leftover diced chicken, turkey, pork or beef. Leftover vegetables like peas, carrots, corn, broccoli or asparagus. Black beans are really yummy stuffed into a baked potato. Chili is equally so and needs nothing but a sprinkle of cheddar cheese on top. Baked potatoes and yams are very forgiving as to what you put on top. Those little drips and drabs of leftovers that are too small to use for another meal tend to be just perfect. Use either a simple white sauce, cheese sauce, or gravy to mix your other ingredients together. You can find recipes for any of these on the Internet.

The combination pictured is leftover diced turkey and a half a bag of mixed vegetables mixed together with a cheapo packet of sale gravy mix I added water to. I had a very small amount of leftover sour cream and mixed that in. I stuffed each yam with that mixture, two for our Friday dinner and two more for weekend lunches.

Like a Gingerbread House

2011-12-02T09:31:00.000-05:00

This charming Craftsman-style stone cottage is in a neighborhood not too far away. Something about this house just speaks to me. Perhaps the charm is that the home is constructed like some country cottages I grew up around in Connecticut, with the same stone fence. Farmers in Connecticut, ever frugal New Englanders, used the rocks removed from the fields while plowing to build walls for their hones and fences for their property. Like this one:

This time of year, I always think the house looks like a gingerbread cottage. Like this one from Country Living's website:

How adorable is that shredded wheat "thatched" roof?

It's December!

2011-12-01T09:52:00.002-05:00

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

Brenda at Cozy Little House did a terrific blog entry showing how she decorated with candy canes. This is how I copied uhhhhhh this is my homage to Brenda. http://www.cozylittlehouse.com/2011/11/thrifty-mantel-holiday-decor-tip.html

For those of us who have a lot of white in our decor, Brenda was correct that the humble candy cane can punch up our Christmas decor for next to nothing. I am so thankful for all the bloggy girls out there who are committed to blessing their homes in a frugal way. I learn so much from each one.

400

2011-11-30T08:08:00.001-05:00

Not too long ago, I got an odometer for my bike. It is the only electronic thing on my vintage cruiser. I was curious about how much mileage I was accumulating on the ole bike. I recently hit this milestone of 400 miles. I have ridden my bike the same mileage as from Virginia to New York City. I'm amazed by this, because it represents plenty of time not sitting on my rear end.

My red cruiser parked on the Great Dismal Swamp Canal Trail. Don't get nervous. No cars are allowed!

Thanksgiving After Action Report

2011-11-28T11:50:00.001-05:00

Many of us struggle with families and the holidays. Sometimes I imagine that others lead idyllic lives with no emotional baggage whatsoever. Upon reflection, though, I'm not sure that any of us live in "this present darkness" totally unscathed. We exist for the blink of an eye in a fallen world and sometimes our family relationships can demonstrate that.

The media and popular culture do not help us. Sometimes the pressure of expectations makes us feel that unless we have a Thanksgiving which looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, we are missing out.

Now I adore Norman Rockwell, especially a painting called Breaking Home Ties, which tells a story if you look at it closely.

Many of our families, however, don't resemble that picture. We are imperfect, we lose sight of priorities, and we make mistakes.
I started to fall victim to that pressure of expectation during this long weekend. Bruce set up a get together with the male relatives to go shooting and forgot to tell me. This part of my dear family has more money than I do. Let's put it right out there. I became nervous and (as a friend of mine delightfully refers to it) twisted. Maybe my house or my cooking wasn't good enough. It was good enough five minutes before I knew I had company coming, why wasn't it good enough five minutes later?

I had to mentally shake myself by the scruff of the neck. We are called as Christians to practice hospitality. That means making available what I have that God has blessed me with, not "putting on the dog" and showing off to others. I relaxed. I prayed. I served the turkey soup that I'd made from the leftovers to rave reviews, along with a sliced meat platter for sandwiches, and some fruit salad. They loved my house, particularly because it does look different from what you can buy in a furniture store. My dear cousin, who is so family oriented, just wanted to take pictures, so she could unite her kitchen and porch into one room, as we have.

How much do we miss with mistaken priorities and expectations over the holidays? We let the anxiety bubble up and say harsh things that we should not. How much do we bend over or even break under the weight of the baggage that we insist on carrying when Jesus stretches out His arms and says, "Here, honey, take a load off. Let me have it." Well that's what He whispers to me. What He officially said was, "Come unto Me all ye that travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you."

During the rest of this holiday season, I am going to relax in Him. He has only called me to be me, Annie, not someone else. Forgetting what lies behind, I will press on and consider my relatives as I consider my friends. They are not here to meet my needs. They are people like me with their own worries who love me. And I resolve to take them at that and leave the baggage in the arms of Jesus.

Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you. John 12:35

And yes, I do realize that there are two different times on the alarm clocks. As Chicago asked, "Does anybody really know what time it is?" I like them that way. Attribute that to my general sense of quirkiness. The King James version of the Bible says we are a "peculiar people" and, trust me, I fit right in.

Some Fashion-y Blogs I Love

2011-11-26T15:25:00.003-05:00

I follow some really varied blogs from a shy housewife in upstate NY who writes remarkable things to an irreverent single tattoo'd Brooklyn woman who lost about 80 pounds and rides around New York City on her Hello Kitty cruiser in high heels. She writes the Bitchcakes blog www.sherylyvette.com/ I also read a blog by cloistered monks in the desert and a couple of Amish blogs, heh. The first part about the monks is true.

Anyway, I really love some of the fashion-y blogs out there. Now I am more than sure that I wouldn't wear many of the ensembles that Kasmira or Vanessa wear. Kasmira mixed plaids and animal prints which would just make me cross eyed if I saw it on myself in the mirror. But on her...WOW WOW WOW!

What I get from these wonderful women are ideas on how I can make my own wardrobe go farther. Because of reading their work, I have paired grey and yellow wihth terrific results. I never would have done that on my own. I wear red sling back high heels with my dressy jeans. I combine necklaces. All because of them. Maybe you'll enjoy these ladies, too. They all thrift a significant portion of their clothing.

The outrageous Kasmira, human resources girl, from Cincy and her husband, Beefy Muchacho, do the What I Wore Today Blog:

http://whatiwore2day.blogspot.com/

Vanessa the brave, from Big Girl, Small Budget, Tiny Town. Think you have to dress in black and stand in the corner if you are a larger woman? Think again.

http://snappyandsavvy.blogspot.com

Patti's Not Dead Yet blog. I love the name she chose! She runs a Monday feature with input from many readers modeling over-50 fashion which makes them look visible, rather than the invisible feeling that many women over 50 experience.

http://notdeadyetstyle.blogspot.com/

Paula is a vibrant artist who loves color, color, and more color in her wardrobe. I love her style!

http://fashionoverfifty.blogspot.com

Check these bloggy girls out! They are inspirational AND make frugal recommendations using thrift store options. What could be better than that!

Shop til you Make The Other Guy Drop?

2011-11-25T09:41:00.000-05:00

Am I the only woman in North America who finds it insane that people are camping out overnight to buy big screen television sets? Sometimes I feel that way.

I have a confession. I hate, loathe, and despise shopping. I especially hate shopping at this time of the year. I can't stand that Christmas starts the day after Halloween either.

Today a woman in California pepper-sprayed other shoppers, including children, to get an X-Box for sale at half price in the raee for Black Friday items. Staff from the same Walmart store reported injuries from shoppers trampling each other. And the store stayed open afterwards. Insanity.

What the heck are we doing? We're in a recession. So many are out of work and looking to save money. I understand that. However, wouldn't it be better to just downsize Christmas, focusing on time together and a special meal rather than using weapons against each other to get to the bargains first?

We're celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ. You know, that Jesus that told us to turn the other cheek? The guy who said if someone asks for your cloak, to give him your tunic as well? The Lord that said that peace makers were blessed? The rabbi who suggested that you treat others as you would have them treat you? The leader who said to consider others better than yourself because ultimately the last shall be first? The one who said not to worry about what you will wear or eat? The one who said that personal possessions were all hay and stubble?

I refuse to support any more of this insanity. I don't care what bargains I get, they aren't worth being pepper sprayed or trampled to death as happened at Walmart last year. Are any of you like minded? I suggest you do, too.

This is the only kind of place that I want to shop in these days.

Thankful

2011-11-24T08:27:00.000-05:00

thank·ful [thangk-fuhl] Show IPA

adjective

feeling or expressing gratitude; appreciative.

The brussell sprouts are ready for roasting, infused with garlic and key lime spice mix. The green beans are marinating in a mustard vinaigrette. I made my Nana's lime jello mold with pineapple and cottage cheese. It makes my mother shudder, but I don't care.

The apple crisp is in the oven. The smell of cardomon and cinnamon wafts through to the living room. I am ready for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

The last six months have been incredibly difficult. But God is incredibly good. God IS love. He isn't just loving. He IS love.

Today I am thankful for so many things. I'm thankful for my husband. I'm thankful for my family, for medical coverage, for a roof over my head, and so thankful for sugar-free cinnamon dolce lattes. I'm thankful for my education, for my friends (especially my amazing friend and spiritual mentor, Terry), for improving health, and for God's boundless grace.

And, God, thanks a whole lot for her:

What a gift, each and every day, she is.

Give thanks with a grateful heart,

Give thanks to the Holy One.

And have a Happy Turkey Day

Dry Like Toast

2011-11-05T12:35:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I know that you didn't expect this kind of picture. You think I should have imported some picture of toast, perhaps slightly burned, for this post, right? Well, as my friend Varelly Margarita Blandon y Jarquin used to say, "hold on, boogaloo."

One of my favorite movies (along with To Have and Have Not, Moonstruck, and Hunt for Red October, among others) is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. If you're like the one person in North America who hasn't seen it, this is the story of a loving, enmeshed Greek family's reaction to their beloved daughter's marriage to a non-Greek vegetarian WASP. At one point the father, who is bewildered and frustrated by his daughter's love for this man emotes saying, "His whole family is dry...like toast....Toast People. No honeys (sic), no jam, no marmalade, just dry like toast."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-wMu4I_GaE

My friends, I have been dry like toast spiritually. No honeys, no jam, no marmalade...I have been one of the toast people. Well, as Kostas, the father says in the clip, "This no work!"

King David knew that this "no work," too. When he wandered in the desert of Judah he said:

Psalm 63

A Psalm of David; when he was in the Wilderness of Judah.

¹O GOD, You are my God, earnestly will I seek You; my inner self thirsts for You, my flesh longs and is faint for You, in a dry and weary land where no water is (Amplified version).

See, David knew that he was a toast person, too. This is encouraging for those of us who struggle with our feelings during the "dry times." David has hand-picked by God. The Bible says so. He was a "man after God's own heart" even in the midst of many terrible trials and mistakes and out-and-out deliberate disobedience.

But you know what? David goes on to say this later on in this psalm:

On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
⁷ Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
⁸ I cling to you;
your right hand upholds me.

I have thought a lot about God during the "watches of the night," but I haven't been singing too much in the shadow of His wings, if you know what I mean. Psalm 91, another favorite says:

Psalm 91

¹HE WHO ^[a]dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall remain stable and fixed under the shadow of the Almighty (Amplified version).

This weekend, I plan to stay under the shadow of His Almighty wings and eat some jam. Or Simply Fruit maybe, less impact on the blood sugar.

Autumn at Williamsburg

2011-11-04T21:52:00.001-04:00

I like to change up where I take my walks, so this week I drove to colonial Williamsburg. Lulu and I enjoyed the change of scenery. She had never seen these before!

She told me this was the biggest dog she'd ever seen before.

That first house sort of just says "fall" with its orange door and shutters.

The air was crisp and the sky was a bright, cloudless, blue.

I've always loved Autumn, the jewel tones in the trees...

I've ridden in a horse-drawn carriage in New York City, but I just feel silly sitting up there. But, oh my, how I love to see them clip clop by.

I feel so blessed that I can walk in such gorgeous and historical surroundings.

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T13:04:00.001-04:00

I used to think I had a love/hate relationship with Halloween.

I loved Halloween when I was a kid. I remember being a Dutch girl one year after my parents had visited Aruba (a Dutch colony). I had wooden shoes and a blue skirt with a white lace apron over it. There was a little starched white cap that went with the outfit. It reminded me of Sister Bertrille on The Flying Nun. I loved her.

My mother took gold yarn and plaited two braids that she pinned into the hat. Another year I was a Hawaiian girl. I had a witch costume my mother made, as well as a pumpkin costume that she stuffed so full of the Hartford Courant wadded up that I could barely fit out the door of the den.

We traveled up and down Knollwood, Birchwood, and Millwood Roads, as well as Holland Lane on Halloween. A lovely neighbor, Bethel Cacase, used to have very special Halloween baskets for us with candy from Munson's Candy Kitchen. Mrs. Cacase was not one of those cheapos who gave out Dots and disgusting orange circus peanuts. The Popps, the Kokums, the Tynes, and the Burns' also had great candy in case you find yourself out in East Hartford begging door to door tonight. Ssssh don't say I told you...

My love for Halloween has waned since I dislike giving candy to teenagers just because they dressed badly. I love the little fairies and princesses and firemen, but twenty year olds can buy their own peanut M&M's. It isn't a costume when you're attired like a girl when you're 20 on October 31. It is just cross dressing.

Don't you love this posh Halloween bear. He is stationed outside of the Williams School in Norfolk in one of their uniform ties.

So in honor of an innocent Halloween costume parade at Sunset Ridge Elementary School and stopping to show my grandparents, Helen and Bobby, our costumes, I wish you the kind of Halloween that took some imagination and the kind of magic that happens in Narnia.

The other Halloween? The one with older teenagers, Freddy Krueger, horror movies, and smashing pumpkins? Thats the one I can't stand.

Dogs

2011-10-18T09:04:00.001-04:00

This is the dog that lives here. My favorite part of her little dog face is just under her nose, where the DNA said put the black here and then a little bit of pink to spice things up. I love Lulu's face. She has such a kind gaze.

And this is the dog that THINKS he lives here:

This is Spunky, hollering for me give him a Milk Bone. He jumps the four foot fence that divides my back yard from his Dad, Roger's, back yard. Lulu is his best friend ever. He comes to the back door every morning and stands there hoodling until we let him inside.

By the way, lest you think you've seen something unsavory at the top of the pic, rest easy. Those are fallen pecans I haven't had a chance to pick up yet.

Red

2011-10-16T09:31:00.001-04:00

Now that the heat of summer is over, the geraniums in the yard and on the porch are going crazy with blooms. It is as if they are wriggling themselves into a comfortable chair and saying "ahhhhhh."

I made a few changes in the kitchen. Somewhere, I saw a kitchen which had open shelf displays. I'm not wild to show my cupboards in general, but this one skinny cabinet never held too much, anyway. In one of my magazines, I saw a bowl with large polka dots which I fell in love with several years ago. I've been looking for one for forever. I was so surprised to find it right here in Portsmouth a couple of weeks ago. The cool Cracker Jacks lunch box came from Goodwill.

I love this Hostess Cupcakes sign. It sits as a back splash behind my stove. It is metal and easily wiped off.

Wowsers, I used to love Hostess cupcakes which I took with me in my lunchbox to Sunset Ridge Elementary School in East Hartford, Connecticut.

New Camera on the Great Dismal Swamp Canal Trail

2011-10-16T09:23:00.001-04:00

The wildfire has finally calmed down enough for me and my old friend above to go back out biking on the trail.

Only a few trees have started turning their leaves, but the air smelled of Autumn somehow.

The road stretched out empty before me, but it will be filled with folks 24 hours from now, as there's a 5K race planned. Oh thank you, God, that I came today.

This old farmhouse looks abandoned these days.

But who left the Blue Willow China behind ?

The picture below looks almost abstract. What you see is fall leaves drifting on the water's surface and the sky reflected in the canal.

I love these stairs down to the canal.

After about 7 miles, I emerged from trees lining both sides of the trail to this Van Gogh view

Flat Iron Art

2011-10-15T09:55:00.001-04:00

This New York City landmark has always fascinated me I love how it sits there in its place looking like the prow of a ship.
I had a fabulous breakfast across the street with the kind of potatoes they only really do right in New York, Something caught my eye at the very bottom of the building. The images were tough to photograph, so please bear with me.

At first, I did not understad what I was looking at. Then I realized that the artist, perhaps in a bow to economic times, perhaps just because she wanted it this way, had created mobiles from only plain white "to go" cups, magic markers, and fishing line. Please note the cup "painted" below as an homage to Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night," You can also see the reflectios of the City Market across the street and a truck driving by. There are camera filters which can screen out such reflections, but I kinda like how this looks.

Here's another view, with an apartment building showing through from the other side. There look to be hundreds of cups. I thought the whole exhibit was so eye-catching, so creative, and so....well...different.

The artist is Gwyneth Leech. She is also a blogger and her blog can be found here

http://www.gwynethsfullbrew.com/

More Farm Stand Action - on Bleecker Street, Greenwich Village

2011-10-09T08:01:00.000-04:00

You all know how I love farm stands. And boy oh boy do I love a farm stand in New York City.

I'd like to live in the second-floor apartment on Bleecker Street, walk down a flight, and pick out my pumpkin. I'd carve a man-in-the-moon kind of face (instead of anything horrifying) and put my pumpkin in the center window with a candle inside, to shine Autumn down on Bleecker Street, Greenwich Village.

And every other week,those non-pumpkin weeks, I'd fill my apartment with something from the flower side of the farm stand like these:

So Van Gogh....

A sight like this provides me with the same sense of delight I feel when I see the rows and rows of varied color nail polish and lipstick in a discount store...only better!

On Bleecker Street
Simon and Garfunkel

A poet reads his crooked rhyme
Holy, holy is his sacrament
Thirty dollars pays your rent
On Bleeker Street

I head a church bell softly chime
In a melody sustainin'
It's a long road to Caanan
On Bleeker Street

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q98pbT-ok3s

Gardens in the Concrete Canyons

2011-10-08T13:26:00.001-04:00

I love gardens in the City....roof top gardens and gardens carved from unexpected places. One of my favorite gardens in the City is the Clinton Community Garden. Hell's Kitchen is pretty chic and pricey now, but as you can imagine from the name, the neighborhood wasn't always this way.

The space below was once a nasty vacant lot with old cars and construction debris strewn about. The sight of a self-seeded tomato plant on the site inspired community activists to reclaim this long-abandoned City of New York property into the gorgeous neighborhood green space it is today. Volunteers work in the community garden area or have plots of their own to plant. You can compost your kitchen waste here, right in the center of New York City.

I saw this little grotto area in a convent just down the street from the Clinton Community Garden.

I have found, through years of practice, that people garden
in order to make something grow; to interact with nature;
to share, to find sanctuary, to heal, to honor the earth,
to leave a mark. Through gardening, we feel whole as we
make our personal work of art upon our land.
--Julie Moir Messervy, The Inward Garden

Finding Meaning in the Midst of Horror

2011-10-08T07:26:00.003-04:00

I visited St. Paul's Chapel the other day. The chapel stands near the former World Trade Center site in New York City. You may remember coverage in the news back ten years ago of this historic church which miraculously remained standing after the Twin Towers collapsed. It stood while George Washington worshipped there and it continued to stand and minister to God's people when the foundations of our very way of life shook.

This was the church that ministered to the rescue workers who went to work in the recovery efforts, day after dusty, discouraging, horrifying day.

In liturgical churches (such as the Roman Catholic, Episcopal or Greek Orthodox traditions) pastors wear vestments. Or, as a priest I once knew said to a kid I took to church, "Hey, how do you like my dress?" One of these garments is called a chausible. At St. Paul's Church, the pastor wore a red chausible which his mother had made for him.

No one knows how it started, but one weary cop or firefighter or EMS worker or whomever, took the patch from his uniform and safety-pinned it to the red, hand-made by Mom, chausible. This cry to find meaning in the midst of unspeakable horror resonated with many of the rescue workers who slept in the venerable old chapel on cots. One after another they pinned their own patches to the chausible. And when it become too full to take another patch, they begin to pile them on the floor around it.

The pastor officiated at religious services in the red chausible, the fabric nearly hidden by so many patches from all over the world. I saw a patch from Tel Aviv, from a German Police Department, The German Red Cross, from Queensland Austrailia, and from every spot in the United States you could think of. Each represented one person who traveled from far away to stand in solidarity with all of us and found meaning in faith while they were here.

It was one of the most moving things I have ever seen in my life; breathtakingly beautiful in a homey, organic, and from-the-heart kind of way.

A Lime Tree Grows in Manhattan

2011-10-07T16:01:00.003-04:00

A lot of people see New York City as this big, impersonal metropolis. That's not how I see things at all. New York is simply a series of little neighborhoods, block by block, that end up being one of the biggest cities in the world.

As I passed by, I noticed this lime tree which is thriving on 51th Street. They must really have babied this tree during the winter of 2010, when there were several major snow storms.

I heard a clip-clop, a sound you wouldn't think you'd hear in New York City, with its typical city song of sirens and blaring horns.

And then another:

and then this comforting message

And God really was calling me.

And at the next corner, this restaurant

That means, "everything is going well."

And so it was...everything IS going well.

Penny Farthing

2011-09-26T10:59:00.003-04:00

Part of my adventure in Olde Towne was getting the tire fixed on my bike. This is the owner of the shop. He built this old-fashioned looking bike which is known as a "penny farthing." Here's why. Back in England,where these bikes first became popular in the late 1800's, the penny and the farthing were two common coins like this:

The term penny farthing referred to the very large front wheel and the tiny back wheel. The British Royal family loved to ride these bicycles. They frequently emptied out the ballrooms at Sandringham and Buckingham Palaces to ride around and around in the winter. Here's a pic of the family of King Edward VII when he was still Prince of Wales. HIs mother was Queen Victoria. The Edwardian Era, in which these bicycles figured prominently, is named after this future King.

Back to humble Portsmouth, the one in Virginia not in England, I got a demonstration of how to ride these bikes. Please note our historic, one screen movie theater, the Commodore. You can order dinner to eat while you see a movie here.

The penny farthing is way back, but this gives a nice view of High Street and our bricked sidewalks.

Here's another absolutely stunning restored vintage bike inside:

The Queen Bee's (An Amazing Vintage Shop in Portsmouth, VA)

2011-09-25T11:58:00.002-04:00

I had a slow leak in my bicycle tire, so I peddled to Olde Towne to the bike shop. I had a few moments before the "bike man" opened and stepped into the Queen Bee's. I'm so glad I was early!

Sharon Black has such a lovely little shop and such a great eye for unique treasures.

Sharon will look at this pic with dismay and say, "But I just took all the orange stuff out of the Hoosier cabinet and didn't have time to re-arrange it." I like it anyway,

I brought this sweet little teapot home with me! Here it is in my living room with the birds.

I wish I had room for this little blue flower pot chair in my living room, but this gorgeous shade of blue did settle in my mind which color to paint the two chairs that sit at the table where we usually eat.

The Queen Bee's

425 High Street

Portsmouth, VA

757-397-3939

And no, I don't get anything for talking about this lovely little shop. I just loved it so much I wanted to share it with my friends!

So many pumpkins, so little time

2011-09-24T12:11:00.002-04:00

Happy Fall, ya'all!

I think the top pumpkin is really exquisite. The folks at the Morris Farm Stand in North Carolina didn't know the name of this particular type. The delicate markings made me think of this month's country living cover:

The delicate toile tissue paper on the left large pumpkin made me think of that top pumpkin pic taken at the farm stand. Some men see pumpkins as they are and ask why, I dream pumpkins that never were and ask "Why not"? (from pumpkinnook.com. That quote cracked me up. JFK actually said that about something other than pumpkins.)

One caveat. I love the way those Country Living pumpkins look, but if you are covering up pumpkins with tissue paper you may have too much time on your hands. Maybe you should volunteer at a soup kitchen ministry.

Finally, a humble, ordinary pumpkin and its intellectual lightweight companion in my front yard:

Shine Little Glow Worm, Glimmer Glimmer

2011-09-20T11:26:00.006-04:00

When I went in to Starbucks yesterday, this Mills' Brothers hit was playing. Shine little glow worm, glimmer, glimmer transported me back to age 5, when my grandmother used to sing this as she accompanied herself on the piano. I would beg her to play it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8myK93FqbYc

As I think back to this time, when Ginger (a marmalade-colored cat) lolled in a patch of sun near the piano while Helen played, when the chief of the Fire Department lived across the street in a house with a red door and red shutters, I also loved these:

I used to call them "one two threes" because my grandmother taught me to count by enumerating them as she gave them to me. I don't think they said "fat free" on the label way back then.

My grandmother taught me many valuable life lessons, mostly by example, but the things I remember during the "glow worm days" were simple. She baked chicken in a paper bag. I always marveled that the bag didn't go on fire. She ironed on a board that folded into the wall, which I would give anything to have now. She had a red love seat that wasn't balanced well and if the person on the inside got up suddenly, the person on the outside would fall off. I found this hilarious. We watched Elvis movies or Miss America accompanied by the clicking of her kniting needles.

Think she was a typical old lady? Think again. She drove a T-bird convertible, wore jeans, and worked until she was 85. One of her favorite songs was Bill Joel's "My Life." A boyfriend of mine once asked her to go with him to Club Med. She was that cool.

She glows in heaven now, glimmer, glimmer...

If A Coffee Can Hits the Galley Floor At Test Depth Does it Make a Sound?

2011-09-17T18:03:00.002-04:00

I have a nasty habit of not fastening the lids on jars and things like shampoo or detergent. I guess it is because I'm afraid that I won't be able to get them open again. Someone else who lives here, a person I refer to as "ole wrench wrist" can fasten or secure something so tightly that I can never reopen it, such as a wide-mouthed jar of pickles or the faucet for the hose.   Makes me cuss sometimes.

Not only is this annoying habit of using one's wrist as a wrench frugal because liquid won't evaporate, but carefully securing all household items in their appointed spot has the added benefit avoiding said object falling and hitting the floor. At times, an object falling and hitting the the deck somewhere below the surface of the water and acknowledged unclassified test depth can be dangerous. Especially outside of international waters. As I've been told many times, an improperly stowed coffee that falls can be heard for miles underwater. Or feet.  Or fathoms. Or knots. Or whatever it is.
As madcap and devil-may-care as you know me to be, I continue to do things my own slapdash way and did I pay for it this week. I had the biggest, nearly full, container of liquid Tide on top of the washer. The lid was on fairly tightly, but not all the way hermetically sealed if you know what I mean. I was working on the computer and heard a thud. I attributed the sound only to the wash being a little unbalanced. Or maybe I'm the unbalanced one. One of those. The sound stopped after one thud, so I did nothing.
I wish I'd thought to take a pic, but I wanted to cry when I went into the laundry room. The Tide had flown off the washer, I guess from the vibration, and the top flew off when it hit wall. There was detergent down the wall, all over the floor, inside the radiator, down the front of the washer...you get the picture.
I had a good idea, though. Okay the really good idea would be to store the Tide in the sink area and put the top on tight. But I was in critical incident management mode. Anyway, I scooped up a lot of the mess in my bare hands and put it back in the container. This worked surprisingly well. Then I got the clean rags I use for household stuff and sopped up the remainder on about a dozen rags, enough on each for a wash. I put them in some zip locks (I reuse zip locks over and over), and have used them all week to wash clothes. Put a rag with the Tide in the wash, throw in the zip lock to clean it off, and turn the machine on.

So, kids, what have we learned? Close containers all the way, whether the shampoo bottle, or the pickle jar, or the Tide.   You never know how you might figure out to knock them over. And think creatively when you have a mini-disaster. There will be a test on this later.

FINEX, FINEX, FINEX....Mark FINEX (only submariners get this)

Before and After

2011-09-15T11:08:00.001-04:00

Sister Kerry handed this down to Mom who handed it down to me:

An hour later...

Farm Stand and Pumpkins in an Old Silver Ice Bucket

2011-09-13T21:26:00.005-04:00

Okay, okay I know I'm rushing it, but according to the farm stand it IS fall:

Although I think we have some spelling issues...

I love farm stands.

I found some really interesting pumpkins which were in the shape and size of an acorn squash. I put them in an old silver ice bucket I picked up at Goodwill last week. It wasn't until I got it home and polished it that I noticed it had my initial on it.

Edenton, North Carolina

2011-09-13T10:59:00.006-04:00

It is official. I am in love with this little town on the sound, 70 miles south of good ole Portsmouth. I headed off with bike in tow and found my new favorite spot in the whole, wide world.

I love the expression on King Frog's face. I love used bookstores in general. The wonderful thing about this one is that the books are displayed and organized just as though they were being sold in a retail bookstore. Tidy, non-dusty, and lovingly placed. I bought three.

Also wonderful was the availability of a sugar-free latte

I seriously want to own this store and fill if full of antique linens and the refurbished Victrola cabinet I found discarded on a trash heap. More on that when I finish it.

Here's an adorable clock. The clock has not been placed there to look retro. It was placed there to look modern and became retro and hip.

Lighthouse...stunning

I loved the colors and the scroll work on this commercial building:

This Victorian gingerbreading looked like lace to me.

And the lovely gardens

But wait, there's MORE! (in the post below)

Edenton, NC, Part 2

2011-09-13T10:46:00.002-04:00

Fortified with some good coffee, and okay I admit it, a few home baked chocolate chip cookies, I headed out of town where agriculture is still king. Imagine this if you can with the addition of peanuts processing in a little factory, all intensely "Mr. Peanut" wafting as I rode mile after mile. These horses and the donkey looked at me gravely.

This barn was around the next bend in the road.

And a cotton field

Cotton pretty much the same in the field as it looks inside your Vitamin-C bottle

Peddled all the way back to town then past this park

And headed here

for a cup of beef with vegetable soup and an entree of crab-stuffed mushrooms. Yum-o!

http://www.watermansgrill.com/

Bloom Where You Are Planted

2011-09-12T07:13:00.001-04:00

This post is for all of us who, whatever the circumtances, feel that we are not able to operate in our giftings because our present conditions aren't perfect. I can't write because I don't have an office. I can't practice hospitality because my house is small. I can't bless my home with a graceful appearance because I am on a limited budget. Good news...getting the dishes out of the sink is free! I can't give to God because my husband doesn't want to tithe.

Here is Staff Sgt. Angie Johson and the Sidewinders band in a Middle Eastern war zone operating in their giftings and blessing other service members with their stirring rendition of Adele's smash hit "Rolling in the Deep." Rock on in your fatigues, sister friend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=LcbI1BLAxkY

Here is construction worker Gary Russo, singing Sinatra at the job site. Douby douby doooo, dude.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/01/gary-russo-nyc-construction-worker-sings-sinatra_n_915583.html

This little light of mine? I'm gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Bloom where you're planted, people.

A Dreadful Anniversary

2011-09-10T21:52:00.001-04:00

I have no words for what this ten year anniversary means. Instead, I will link you to the blog of a police officer who was there. This is his first-hand acccount. God bless our country. And please remember to pray for first responders throughout our country and for the families of the first responders who died that day.

http://officerstanding.blogspot.com/

On Peace

2011-09-10T12:06:00.002-04:00

I've been pondering the meaning of peace lately. I've felt the lack of peace keenly over the last year or so, probaby longer. I have a restive spirit. I long to develop that inner core of calmness and stability, but find my feathers all too ruffled, all too disturbed by people, events, and circumstances which I cannot control.

A monk went to his abbot complaining of his dificulties. "My feet get burned on the hot sand, " he complained. "My feet are bruised by the pebbles on the pathways. I cut the sole of my foot on broken glass in the kitchen." The abbot responded, "My brother, you can put leather over the whole world or you can put sandals on your own feet." I'm seeking to put sandals on my feet, so to speak.

The world looks at peace like this (from Dictionary.com):

noun

the normal, nonwarring condition of a nation, group of nations, or the world.

( often initial capital letter ) an agreement or treaty between warring or antagonistic nations, groups, etc., to end hostilities and abstain from further fighting or antagonism: the Peace of Ryswick.

a state of mutual harmony between people or groups, especially in personal relations: Try to live in peace with your neighbors.

the normal freedom from civil commotion and violence of a community; public order and security: He was arrested for being drunk and disturbing the peace.

cessation of or freedom from any strife or dissension

Jesus said,"I leave you peace, my peace I give you" in John 14. Here's what it says in the Amplied Version about peace: Peace I leave with you; My [own] peace I now give and bequeath to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. [Stop allowing yourselves to be agitated and disturbed; and do not permit yourselves to be fearful and intimidated and cowardly and unsettled.]

Isn't that great? Isn't that so much better than an "absence of hostilities." Please note that Jesus didn't say, "I give this to you if you're perfect." He didn't say, "You can have this if you cross off all the items on your To Do List." He didn't suggest, "Hey, as long as everyone else is doing what YOU think they should, then you'll be peaceful." He said, "I bequeath you my peace." Think about that, not the peace of the world...he gave us HIS peace.

My grandmother bequeathed a Georgian tea service to me. It is precious both in monetary value, but even more so in its personal value to me in the memories we shared. So precious, in fact, that you can see it in the top picture on this blog.

I was in California when my beloved Helen died. Once I settled down here in Virginia, I drove to my father's home where he had carefully stored this treasure for me. I had to accept what Helen left to me.

So, also, I have to accept Jesus' peace. I have to recognize when I have no peace, such as this morning after I sent a snarky email today in response to an even snarkier email I received. I felt no peace afterwards. Thankfully, I was able to "unsend" it befor the recipient opened it. I'm learning to recognize when my peace is stolen and to take immediate action to get it back. Soon, I hope not even to leave that sense of peace so I don't have to return to it.

Remember, the Bible says, "stop letting yourself be agitated or disturbed or unsettled." Check that out. You let yourself be unsettled. You let yourself.

Be the peace you seek.

The Autumn Leaves Drift Past My Window...

2011-09-09T08:59:00.001-04:00

Well, not quite yet, but the pumpkin lattes are back at Starbucks, so it must be time to get the autumn-y vignettes going.

My challenge this time was not to spend any money. And I didn't. Autumn is a time of gathering and harvest. So I harvested pinecones on an evening walk and placed them in this Goodwill tureen that is usually in the dining room. And then I hunted other items I already had from closets and other hidey holes.

The shoes were thrifted at a Goodwill in the Blue Ridge mountains while on vacation.

The two fall plates were thrifted, the bird came from The Dollar Store, and I found the key and the other rusted implement you see in the first pic in my yard while gardening.

No vignette is complete at Chez 256 without a Scrabble tile label.

I bought cloche several years ago from a wonderful shop whose front windows are filled with European kitchen-based antiques called The Kitchen Koop. KK is the kind of place you can while away a work day lunch hour and immerse yourself in cookbooks, kitchen gadgets, and gourmet coffee.

And don't foget...

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign

2011-09-08T07:19:00.001-04:00

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign
Blockin' out the scenary
Breakin' my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign?

All these vintage signs were on one barn that now serves as a garage up in the historic area of Richmond. How cool are these? Esso changed its name to Exxon in the United States in 1972.

I'd like a vintage bread sign for my kitchen, and I think the one I saw below on Etsy will do nicely

Richmond Again

2011-09-07T12:13:00.001-04:00

I'm not sure what draws me to Richmond, exactly. A good portion of the attraction is neighborhood after neighborhood of magnificent architecture; Victorian splendor with turrets and row houses with dental molding...

Or maybe it is the unique doorways...

Or the tiny front yards lush with ivy and flowers...

Or the quaint-looking businesses which wouldn't be caught dead in a strip mall.

Or the old churches...

Or the moving poetic dreaminess of its residents...Can't you tell it is a town of intellectuals, refined people, as well as the home of two major universities as exemplified here:

Goodwill On Line

2011-09-05T13:42:00.002-04:00

Okay, am I the last vintage thrift girl who knows about this? I just found out about Goodwill on line. I think this is a pretty cool idea. Like EBay, but non-profit benefitting Goodwill instead.

I found out about this from a blog that strangely fascinates me called What I Wore Today. http://whatiwore2day.blogspot.com/

I have a quirky sense of style. I'm given to big statement pieces of jewelry. I typically like a lot of color in my wardrobe and black, white, purple, turqouise, and hot pink are my colors. I have necklaces with skeleton keys, bracelets made of mah-jong pieces, and big cuff bracelets. I also like big shawl like-scarves, cool shoes, and the like.

I do not share What I Wore Today's style. She mixes patterns together, which I really don't care for and layers stuff which just makes me hot. But I've really been enjoying observing how she creates new outfits. This has inspired me to shake up how and what I wear without buying anything new.

There's No Place Like Home

2011-09-03T14:45:00.005-04:00

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest...wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his image.

Joan Didion

Wild Horses Keep Draggin' Me Away...

2011-09-02T08:11:00.002-04:00

I was relieved to read that our regional wild horse and pony population has been looked over and found to have weathered Hurricane Irene just fine. The group of horses numbers 128, with a number of foals born over the spring. These horses are believed to have come to the area with the conquistidor explorers of America. Over the centuries they have run wild in a remote area near the town of Corolla, NC on the outer banks. Here is a link to a Virginian Pilot article about the horses with a video of these magnificent wild creatures:

http://hamptonroads.com/2011/09/wild-horses-outer-banks-ride-out-hurricane-just-fine

Just "up the block" on Virginia's Eastern Shore area are the wild ponies of Chincoteauge and Assateague Islands. In order to control the herd and to raise money for the local volunteer fire department, some of the ponies are "driven" (as in a cattle drive) from Assateague to Chincoteague. This is an amazing sight and draws visitors from all over the world. The ponies are then sold at auction to loving homes.

These wild ponies were immortalized in Marguerite Henry's classic children's book "Misty of Chincoteague." Misty's decendents still frolic in the surf where she once did. This gives me such a sense of continuity, as I remember my mother reading the book to me when I was three. Today I can take an hour's drive and see them for myself.

Displaying Vintage Linen

2011-08-31T14:56:00.000-04:00

I have collected a lot of vintage linen over the years. I use some of it, but a lot of it languishes in a marble-topped buffet. I've had it in mind to swipe the hundred year old ladder from the garage to display linen for quite some time. Today was finally the day.

My house was cut into two apartments during World War II. If you look closely, you can see the slot cut into the crown molding. The wall dividing the house into two parts used to rest in that cut.

More Creativity During Irene

2011-08-30T17:56:00.003-04:00

Inspired by Judy's birds here:
http://judyh58.blogspot.com/2011/08/she-tweaks.html

I decided to get busy during Hurricane Irene. I'm not sure why, but nasty, garish, and cheap Goodwill gold plastic frames look awesome painted bright red, black or white.

Since I'm not as artistically talented as Judy, I printed a bird picture from the Internet and cut and pasted the dictionary definition of "songbird" underneath. It pleased me and kept me from getting the jitters during the storm.

The Calm AFTER The Storm

2011-08-29T10:09:00.001-04:00

Morning dawns calm on Scotts Creek (part of the Elizabeth River). The sign is gone, but everything else is fine. That crumbling pier you see has been gone for decades.

My porch is almost back to normal. I brewed some coffee and read my Bible out there. God has been good to 256. This venerable old lady stood firm as she has through wind, snow, tempests, and rain for one hundred years. This is what I see this morning, my view from 256.

What I Did During Hurricane Irene

2011-08-28T18:41:00.002-04:00

I finally made a slipcover for the cushion on both living room chairs vs. just tucking the sheet around the old cushions. The vintage sheet was part of a set for $2.25 from Goodwill. This was one of three things I wanted to change in the living room which I mentioned in this post:

http://theviewfrom256.blogspot.com/2011/08/bird-brained-in-living-room.html

My mother used to have a lampshade made of this print in her bedroom when I was growing up. The lamp was made from a bottle that looked like the one below. My father wired it to make the lamp. She'd never admit it, but I think I started my junking tradition from her.

Glamour Shots of "Irene"

2011-08-27T17:07:00.003-04:00

Get ready for some really glamorous pics from my house:

We love Lulu, but she is an irresponsible parent. Two of her "babies" are dead in the backyard.

I"ll have to make a trip to Goodwill for some more teddy bears.

Naturally my house is camera ready and immaculate:

Nothing like having the entire front yard in my living room and dining room...and the best is yet to come! Still have power, working on some projects, a roast chicken in the (gas) oven, and feeling pretty cozy, actually. God is good.

As Irene Rages....I Tweak Vignettes for Fall

2011-08-27T10:41:00.002-04:00

If the house blows away, it'll be looking autumn-y before it goes. It is all about priorities, people.

The lovely vintage fall bird picture came from my on-line buddy Jenene. Her daughter works at my favorite Goodwill store. Right now, she lives far away, but she will be moving to the next neighborhood over soon.

Keep Calm and Carry On

2011-08-26T09:24:00.001-04:00

I love this sentiment. Posters like these were produced in Great Britain beginning in 1939.

So, you know that the natural world is a little unstable in your region when you hope that Hurricane Irene will put out the wildfire that's been burning in the Great Dismal Swamp for months now. When the wind blows a certain way, the haze actually hangs in the air inside my house. This week has been intense what with an earthquake and now a Cat 3 hurricane. What's a girl to do but keep calm and carry on.

And let me just mention that those of us who hang unique things like handmade dollhouses from our fence and use seatless antique chairs to hold potted flowers in baskets are in a world of hurt when we need to remove projectiles from our property. They don't seem quite so cleverly eclectic in the midst of a weather emergency.

Actually, I think the situation may be so grave that I need to follow my sister Kerry's advice instead:

I Painted the Fireplace Area...FINALLY

2011-08-24T11:38:00.003-04:00

This cost nothing except the cost of the blue candles in the hurricane lamps. I swiped them from my mother's garage. The paint was in the basement. Here's how it looked when I lit the lamps. I had originally intended to paint them white, too, but I love the contrast against the white background.

My Great Grandmother's Recipe Book

2011-08-24T05:00:00.006-04:00

My great-grandmother, Annie O'Toole, was a remarkable woman. She lived in Wilkes-Barre, Pennylvania and was the light of my mother's life, just like my grandmother, Helen, was the light of mine. Annie was not educated beyond the third grade (as you can see from her spelling and handwriting), but she was very wise. She kept a spotless house, even with six children and Uncle Johnny (her brother in law) living there.

I am told that she was a fantastic cook. This must have skipped a generation, because her daughter, my Nana Dunn, was a terrible chef. Her burgers were so over done that the National Hockey League could have used them at center ice. My mother has the cooking gene. I have Nana O'Toole's periwinkle blue bean pot.

Annie's recipes were written in an old pay booklet that must have been from my great grandfather's employer. He worked in a lace mill as a weaver. That's her book scanned above, open to the Old Kentucky Nut Cake recipe and signed with her name. I noodled around on the Internet and found the same recipe with more modern measurements instead of her quaint "coffee cup full" directions. I kind of like her non-precise recipe better. I am proud to have been named after her.

Old Kentucky Nut Cake from Recipes.com

Ingredients

2/3 cup shortening
2/3 cup white sugar
3 eggs
2 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups chopped walnuts

Directions

Sift together flour, salt, and baking powder.
In a large bowl, cream shortening and sugar until fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time. Combine milk and vanilla, and add alternately with flour mixture to egg mixture. Fold in nuts. Pour into a greased and floured 9 x 13 inch cake pan.
Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 35 to 40 minutes. Cool on a wire rack. at she didn't go too far beyond a third grade eduation.

Secret Gardens of Shea Terrace

2011-08-23T05:00:00.003-04:00

Some cool, green, inviting hideaways from my neighborhood this waning summer day...

Amazing Things on the Porch at 256

2011-08-22T22:04:00.000-04:00

So I was sitting in this rocker on the front porch tonight, after a bike ride. I considered all the other people who also sat on the front porch of 256 before I did. I like to think about the Shea Family who lived here until the 1960's. Their great nephew, Butch, still lives two streets down in a white house with yellow shutters on the water.

I mused about the live oak trees in front of the old school. They must have been just saplings back then., The sound of the ferry and the Norfolk Southern freight train would have been similar. No street lights and far fewer houses. No air conditioning. Few cars. However, on a beautiful night like tonight, I feel sure that they would have been rocking or gliding on the front porch. Most women would still have been wearing skirts just above the ankle, although those scandalous flappers might have been dancing the Charleston downtown.

I went inside to look up this date in history, in 1920, to be specific, when the house was brand new. The first radio news broadcast had just been made in Detroit, but they wouldn't have known. I was wondering what they might have been discussing as they rocked back and forth. The Great War, perhaps and how things were now getting back to normal again for everyone.

Nope. That's not what they were discussing. Can you guess what? Women's suffrage! Women's right to vote was ratified just about this time in August of 1920.

Autumn Leaves a Wee Bit Early

2011-08-22T05:00:00.010-04:00

My friend, Terry, is the best person in the world. Really, trust me, she is. Terry is a psychologist. Besides that, she has a lot of wisdom and is the soul of kindess. I recommend having a friend who is a psychologist because it is cheaper than psychotherapy AND you can call them at home in the evening. I have a collection of friends who are psychologists or therapists. Psychologists...collect all three! This is an odd thing, but I collect them like I collect Virginian Pilot newspaper reporters.

Anyway, back to Terry being the best person in the world...Terry went to an estate sale last week. We chatted on the phone. Then she said those words that make every vintage vixen's heart sing, "I went through a box of vintage linens and took what I wanted. When you come over, I'll give the box to you, so you can see if you find anything."

I found quite a few things, but nothing more than this beautiful hand-painted fall tablecloth and matching napkin set.

Here's some detail of the painted pattern:

I had to do a new bouquet. Strangely, it pleased me that I put the flowers in a depression glass canister marked "flour." I'm odd and fanciful that way.

The little leaves are actually ashtrays from my Franciscan Ivy pattern.

Thank you, Terry, for this cooling bit of Autumn during dusty dry summer days. You are such a Proverbs 31 woman.

Dollar Store Crafts Blog

2011-08-21T13:33:00.002-04:00

Part of my Sunday routine this time of year is biking to Starbucks and reading the Sunday New York Times. I am a New Yorker at heart, although I split my time between New York and the Hartford, CT area when I was a kid. I get a vente skinny vanilla 7-pump three Equal latte and go through the whole paper at my leisure.

In today's Times, there was a great article about Dollar Stores which I think all you "frugalistas" would enjoy:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/02/business/02dollar.html?pagewanted=all

The article refers to this cool blog:

http://dollarstorecrafts.com/

Just sayin'

Bird Brained in the Living Room

2011-08-21T10:28:00.001-04:00

I mentioned the little beadboard cupboard above in my last post. I found it on a trash pile outside an old church. Judging from what I found inside, it was from a juvenile Sunday School classroom. I think it has good karma! I found the smaller box at Goodwill last week. I couldn't find any reasonably-priced bluebirds to put inside, so I spray painted some Dollar Store birds instead. Not very Elle Decor, but it works for me.

My livingroom used to be decorated in shades of cranberry and cream, as you can see in the memorial post to my Little Bit. My living room is dark, because I have a porch across the front of my house. The colors just contributed to the darkness, so little by little, I changed over to a blue, yellow, and white cottage-y look. Finding the mirror for the fireplace helped brighten things via reflection. The mirror looks fabulous with the glow of reflected candles in it when I put a candlestand down in front. The whole area looks so much brighter. Thank you Goodwill for $5.25.

I have to thank Daisy Cottage Kim for the bold use of color. What a living doll that girl is. My palette isn't the same, but she taught me how to make a room look like me. I also learned that all the colors don't have to be "matchy matchy." I wouldn't have picked up those shutters if I hadn't read her blog.

My next three jobs are to paint the floor lamp white, paint the flagstones around the fireplace off white, and actually sew the chair cushion covers. Don't tell anyone, but all I did was tuck the vintage sheets around the two old cushions. I have to fix that before my friend Elaine, the professional decorator, comes for Bible study. She is QUITE Elle Decor. O! the horror if she fiddled around with that cushion!

Upcycled Blue Shutters

2011-08-20T10:44:00.006-04:00

I never fail to be amazed at what folks put out for the trash. Just off the top of my head, following are some treasured items I upcycled from the trash:

a beautiful old door with a wonderful patina and estucheon plate (the decorative area around a door knob) that sits in my living against a wall
the headboard in one of the guest bedrooms
my coffee table
a chair with no bottom that I spray painted red. It sits in my front yard with flowers in the seat area
vintage suitcases
a vintage red checked apron
a folk art wooden heart
keys
the bottom of a Hoosier cabinet
a vintage 1940's enamel counter top
a chest of drawers
a vintage free-standing kitchen spice cabinet about six feet tall
a small beadboard cupboard from a Sunday School classroom which I use for diplays in front of the living room window.

Last night I was riding my bike at Merrimac Point and spied these amazing blue shutters on top of a trash pile. I kept my fingers crossed as I raced home to get the jeep that no one else would pick them up. I couldn't see balancing five-foot high shutters on my handlebars. My ceilings are 12 feet high,so the shutters fit perfectly in the area above the bookcase.

This area is tucked into a corner created by the fireplace flue. The bookcase is the main reason I bought the house, I just fell in love with the glass front and door knobs. It is original to the house.

C'mon Baby Douse My Fire

2011-08-19T11:32:00.002-04:00

Did you know that a swamp can go on fire? I know, neither did I, but if you think about it, the Irish heated their homes for centuries with peat, which is basically the same thing. The Great Dismal Swamp is on fire and has been for weeks. The wind has changed and for a second this morning when I first awoke, I thought my own house was on fire. It is hot and the smoke hangs in the air like fog. (pic courtesy of the Daily Press.) The Great Dismal usually looks anything but, however, I have to admit that this pic looks very 1313 Mockingbird Lane (the Munster's address).

So today is definitely a good day for the crock pot. About the last thing I want to do is heat the kitchen up. Just to give you some ideas, I mixed a can of cream of mushroom soup, a half a can of wine, one teaspoon of marjoram, and a half can of water together. I put boneless pork chops in the botton of the crock, then sliced raw carrots, then sliced raw mushrooms, and the mushroom soup mixture on top.

I don't always think "crock pot" in the summer, but if you think about it, this is a great time of year to use one. The house stays cool and you can run off and do your summer thing, but dinner will be ready when you get in. It doesn't get any better than that.

Carlos Wilson Died

2011-08-18T09:14:00.000-04:00

This may not be a big deal to you, but it is a huge deal to all of us in the Tidewater area. Carlos worked at the old-timey Cavalier Hotel in Virginia Beach for 73 years. That is not a typo. Can you imagine? He was working there when World War II ended. I wrote about the Cavalier a few years ago.
http://theviewfrom256.blogspot.com/2009/11/weekend-walk-in-virginia-beach.html

You can read about this inspiring man in my local paper, the Virginian Pilot here:
http://hamptonroads.com/2011/08/carlos-wilson-mr-virginia-beach-dies-89

I am surrounded by Pilot people. I went to church with Ann Johnson, the research librarian. Nancy next door is an editor. Aaron and Kate down the street are two married reporters. Dave further on down is another reporter. And then there's my friend Martin Smith Rodden, an award-winning photo journalist. Martin lives over in the next neighborhood. He took his wife's name when they married, which is entirely too 1970's for me. Makes him sound British, though. All Americans think that anyone British sounds really smart. I am the Queen of the Parenthetical Thought, aren't I? Seriously.

Here is Carlos' advice to all:

Remember people’s names.
Show up on time, and you’re 90 percent ahead of everyone else.
Do more than you’re paid to do. One day it will pay off.
Respect is worth more than money.
Lies beget lies. Tell the truth about everything; deal with it and move on.
Life ought to be something to live, not fear.
Slow down
Smile

Now if anyone out there in Blogville could tell me why on earth the Google widget below is indicating all these random stories insted of my previous blog entry about the Cavalier , I'll buy you an eclair from the Marietta Diner. I'm lying.

Blowin' in the Wind

2011-08-17T10:07:00.001-04:00

I got up at "o dark 30" (or Navy time), made some banana oatmeal muffins, and brewed a pot of chocolate truffle coffee. This, kidlets, is decadence on a small budget.

I have an unsightly view of the compost bin from one angle on my front porch. This was particularly bothersome because it is the view I see from my chair at the table.

The answer, my friend, was blowin' in the wind, to plagiarize from, um....be inspired by Peter, Paul, and Mary.

The answer was blowin' in the wind....on a tension rod...hanging from cheapo chain from Lowes...with sale curtains from Walmart.

Just sayin'.

Water Water Everywhere

2011-08-17T07:25:00.003-04:00

Karen Blixen, whose pen name was Isak Dineson, wrote Out of Africa. She said, " The cure for anything is salt water, either sweat or tears or the sea." Roger that.

My earliest happy memories are surrounded by the water of Long Island Sound at Black Point or at the Atlantic ocean near the great auntie's cottages (Mercedes, Florence, and Peg) on Long Beach Island, NJ.

Whenever I smell the scent of brine, I am 7 again with a sunburned nose. I hear Taffy padding on dog feet across the kitchen floor, and see Kit's old wringer washer in the out building. We used the roller to squidge the water from our bathing suits and hung them on the clothesline strung above the picnic table to dry completely.

So it is no accident that I still live surrounded by water in Hampton Roads, Virginia...either the brackish Elizabeth River (which is actually a tidal estuary like the Hudson near New York City) or the Atlantic Ocean or the Chesapeake Bay at Fort Monroe.

My neighborhood is a peninsula surrounded by water which teems with life; fish, crabs, green herons, and this egret above foraging for lunch.

During my most troubled times, I am drawn towards contemplation along the water. I am always renewed by it. We are first created within water. I think we want to return to it over and over.

The voice of the LORD is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the LORD thunders over the mighty waters. Psalm 29:2-4

Peddling My Backside All Over Town

2011-08-16T09:25:00.004-04:00

I've spent a lot of this summer riding my bike everywhere. Some place along the way, I got back in touch with the inexpressible joy I felt riding my banana bike on Knollwood Road in East Hartford when I was little. We lived in a 1930's Tudor in those days with vintage cherry wallpaper in the dining room.

I became curious recently about how many miles I was riding as I took off for Starbucks, or Merrimac Point or to church. I follow a wonderful blog by an amazing woman named Sheryl Yvette who rides in New York City high heels and skirts. http://www.sherylyvette.com/
I've also found that I'm more comfortable biking in a skirt and do ride in to church with higher heels. It appeals to the 1940's girl deep within that maybe others who once lived at the Old Shea House at 256 peddled downtown in the same way.

So off I went to East Coast Bicycles in the Ghent neighborhood of Norfolk to have an electronic odometer placed on my bike. I took the ferry from Portsmouth across the Harbor. This is what I saw as I waited for the ferry:

I love our working waterfront. I road over this footbridge to cross the Canal in Norfolk:

Here is the view of the Chrysler Museum while crossing:

After lunch, I found this dim, cool garden area at the side of a Victorian museum. I was happy to sit down for a few minutes. My bike is there in the background.

I forgot one thing. The streets are all cobble-stoned. I think I jiggled a few fillings loose! I thought about all the people in the Netherlands who used bicycles over the same kind of streets during World War II. Rubber was scarce and many road their bikes on the rims only, no tires. MERCY!

I headed back to the ferry landing at Waterside here and waited to cross the River back home. It was so hot and hazy, but I thought the pic looked good in sepia tones. Over the river and through the streets to East Coast Bicycles I went. And my odometer tells me that I've done 41 miles since then.

I-Need-to-go-Grocery-Shopping-Lunch Salad

2011-08-16T06:29:00.001-04:00

Start with a large can of garbanzo beans (or chick peas or ceci, depending on your ethnicity).

Add the drips and drabs that need to be used up from the fridge. In my case it was carrots, a green pepper past its first blush of youth, a chopped onion, some black olives, some sugar snap peas, a roma tomato, and some frozen corn.

Add lemon juice, olive oil, and your choice of spices. I decided to go vaguely Middle Eastern with ground cumin, fennel seed, red pepper flakes, allspice, and salt. Equal parts olive oil to lemon juice. Toss.

Make grocery list. Enjoy lunch. Go grocery shopping.

Blowing Through the Jasmine in my Mind

2011-08-15T07:20:00.000-04:00

Listen, I don’t tell everybody this so you need to keep it to yourself. There’s a sound track running in my mind all the time, like I’m playing the musical score to my life. Call me Henry Mancini or John Williams. Well, no, don’t, but you know what I mean. Well maybe you can, I wouldn't mind claiming Moon River as my own.

So I guess this blog post is my liner notes. I hope that I don’t say a lot of obscure thank you’s to folks no one else knows about and make self-conscious references to inside jokes like the liner notes used to look like for Kenny Loggins and other artists when I was a kid.

About two weeks ago, my soundtrack was playing “It’s Not Easy to be Me” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q896lBPRC60

by Five for Fighting and “One Hundred Years to Live” by the same group: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tR-qQcNT_fY&ob=av2e

I’ve been feeling the inexorable sense of time slipping away which is embodied in this haunting song. I’m a sucker for a good falsetto and I love the music-box melody. This era of my life will be over seemingly in a breath. By the way, did you know that there are two kinds of time in the Bible…clock time and spiritual time?

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/stone-catend/2Times.pdf

What’s this week’s running soundtrack? “What Do You Want From Me?” by Adam Lambert.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt3yBQf7LqM
I don’t always notice the soundtrack while I bee-bopp my way along writing, working, traveling, or putting some wash in the front loader. Just a few minutes ago I became aware of this week’s tune. As I puzzled over it, because the songs always mean something deeply spiritual, I realized that my heart was crying out to God asking Him that question.

You see, we’re going through a difficult time at Chez 256. I have been so angry about it that I’ve missed the spiritual lessons. Today, I was praying with groaning too deep for words when the Spirit intercedes for us Romans 8:26 and 27. And I got my answer, “pray for those who spitefully use you.” That's what God wants from me.

You know those clever chalkboards made from vintage frames that I love so much? God told me to erase the one hanging above the globes in the hallway that said, “He’s got the whole world in His hands.” And then he directed me to write down the names of those I was so angry with and ask Him to bless them in writing. So I did.

He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the LORD
and put their trust in him. Psalm 40:3

168 Hours

2011-08-14T10:25:00.005-04:00

We all have the same amount of time…168 hours per week. That’s the premise of a book I just finished: 168 Hours by Laura Vanderkam.

In a different twist on time management, Vanderkam provides an excellent tool for analyzing your use of time. I was chagrined as I read many accounts of highly-productive people; amazingly well rounded people, who manage to get it all done and then some.

I was reading at the beach, a deserted Chesapeake Bay beach that I sincerely hope never gets discovered. I was so engrossed in her writing that the tide came in and engulfed my feet and bottom in the beach chair before even noticed it creep in. And no, I don’t get anything out of suggesting the book.

Laura Vanderkam has a website and blog as follows:

http://www.my168hours.com/main/
You can download a free weekly time log. She examined a great deal of research which indicates that we exaggerate time spent in worthy pursuits and underestimate the amount of time we sleep or do less productive activities. Keeping a time log helps you get real. Vanderkam examines how we spend time from a philosophical as well as a practical view.

A close friend is going through a painful professional time. I’ve noticed over the months, that he spends a lot of time being frozen, attempting the same report or task many times. He has difficulty moving forward to completion because he is perplexed about the overall situation.
He worries about tasks, obsesses about them, asks questions, reviews, ruminates, second guesses himself and others, and then finally completes tasks under great pressure just prior to the due date. In all, he spends ten times more time on the task than he needs to, because of all the negativity he feels. Think I’m criticizing? I can be just the same.

Confession: I fritter time away. I am not disciplined. I don’t get to the things I value. If I do get to them, I feel pressured and run through them like my hair is on fire. My big time wasters? Television. Specifically, Law and Order and NCIS reruns, however entertaining I find Mark Harmon to be. Trust me, really entertaining. Internet surfing vs. internet research. Helping others prior to getting to my own responsibilities. Procrastination.

I have a bazillion things I want to do…spending time with loved ones without feeling harried, community activism, decorating projects, trying out new recipes, working in my cottage garden, taking pictures, professional pursuits, and finishing my book. God has a plan for my time and talents. I'm not doing a very good job of following it. My tombstone shouldn’t read, “Here lies Annie…she watched a lot of NCIS reruns.” Actually, I want my tombstone to read, “Hey, thanks for stopping by!” Dare me.

So I’m analyzing my time, beginning Monday. My goal? Accomplishing the things that truly uplift and fulfill me, and waiting until the new NCIS’s come back in September. It is only fair, if you think about it. Mark Harmon isn’t home with Pam Dawber watching me.

The Help

2011-08-13T22:44:00.004-04:00

Did you read The Help? If you haven’t, run out and get it. It is marvelous. Even if you haven’t read the book, also run out and see the movie “The Help,” which is based on the book. The novel examines prejudice, cruelty, kindness, and triumph in the pre-civil rights South. In particular, the book looks at the lives of maids who worked for white families in Mississippi.

We had a housekeeper who came to live with us in the midst of this same time, just a few years after the setting of the movie. Her name was Roslyn Brown. We called her Rose. She came while my Father was in Vietnam, my brother was perhaps 2 and I was 5 or maybe a bit younger.

She came when we lived in a small brick ranch near a military base. My room had purple curtains with silhouettes of black cats on them and Chipper Hart lived next door. My favorite show was Flipper (they call him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightening…) and I missed my Dad a lot.

I just recently learned that Rose came to us via a work release program from the Hampton City Jail. My mother’s choice to hire someone who had been in jail was completely uncharacteristic. She wasn’t really able to explain to me why she did it, but Rose stayed with us for many years.

She was very tall and very large with long, slender hands that looked like they should be playing the piano. Rose wore a garnet ring some suitor had given her; it was set in a gold knot with the garnet perched on top. Frequently, she would refer to herself in the third person, as in, “Don’t you be back sassing Rose, now.” She used to make candy for us on a large cookie sheet, sweet amber colored, vanilla flavored candy that she smashed into bits with a large hammer and stored in a large tin. She loved to watch her stories while ironing; “Like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our lives.”

Once as she stood at the kitchen washing her hands free of some sticky dough, my brother looked her up and down and said, “I don’t think it will come off,” referring to her skin color. Another time he said reflectively, “Rose, you’re just sort of a big, all over freckle.” She laughed and said, “I expect I is.”

Rose followed us as we moved from Virginia to Connecticut. She was devoted to my brother and me. I never questioned her staying on, but I marvel at the idea of her leaving her entire family and her home to care for someone else’s children. The thing was, she never thought of us as anyone else’s but hers. We were her babies.

In the movie, the main character ends up being fired and leaving her “baby” behind. In my life, Rose left when my mother remarried and moved to New York with my stepfather. She was never fired, but went home to become an African Methodist Episcopal lay pastor.

Not long ago, I found an old index card in Rose’s angular, distinctive handwriting, listing the ingredients for a cake. I had been looking through an old recipe file of my mother's. I was instantly transported back to that time in my life. I could see her right before me helping me tie a pair of red Keds. She died when I was in my twenties from complications from diabetes. I miss her still.

Monday Morning Glories

2011-08-08T10:29:00.000-04:00

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.
His mercies never come to an end.
The are new every morning, new every morning,
Great is Thy faithfulness, O Lord.
Great is Thy faithfulness.

New Old Park Bench

2011-08-07T11:16:00.000-04:00

This old park bench had been hanging around the garage for a couple of years. I gave it a new coat of paint. I found the fabulous green pillows at Goodwill for $5.25 with the original Pottery Barn tags still on them. SWEET!

Vintage Signage

2011-08-06T07:39:00.000-04:00

These two signs are a block apart on Warwick Boulevard in Newport News, Virginia. I adore them. In my secret dreams, I want to gather a historic preservation group together and start serving home fries, grilled cheese, and sliders at the old diner once again.

Hall and Oates had an album when I was a kid called, "The Abandoned Luncheonette." I think of it every time I pass the Blue Star.

Kitchen

2011-08-05T05:58:00.000-04:00

I love Brenda's blog over at Cozy Little House where she is going through changes outside her control with a tremendous amount of grace.

Imagine my amazement when I saw this inspirational picture on her blog on Wednesday:

Here's my kitchen:

By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea

2011-08-04T11:40:00.006-04:00

Sometimes people ask me how I come up with decorating ideas. Mostly, I don't know. I think I'm terrific at stealing, uh that is, gaining inspiration from decorating magazines. With this project, I can pinpoint exactly how it came together in a quick 13 years!

When I moved in to the old Shea House, my mother bought me a king-sized bed with a good mattress for one of the spare bedrooms. The bed came headboardless. That's a new word I just made up. I toyed around with various headboard ideas like old fencing or one of the old doors stored in my garage, but nothing seemed quite right.

At the same time, I had access to some Navy charts from the decommissioning of the USS McKee, a submarine tender. The charts were going to be discarded when they mothballed the McKee on the James River, but I knew that I could do something with them. I was particularly fond of this chart of the approach to New York and Long Island Sound. I spend many happy days as a child playing in Long Island Sound at Black Point (Niantic), Connecticut. The back of the chart has quartermaster notes in black Sharpie magic marker, which I think is very cool.

My sister came to visit in June. We took a long drive to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and stopped at a farm stand that had a lot of snarky signs about how many free samples one could take, that sort of thing. The signs lack of customer service awareness bothered me, so we went to another, much nicer farm stand where I found the wonderful picture that says "you can't cross the sea by staring at the water." I also found birch beer for Jason's birthday and some really fab blanched almonds.

In July, I was riding my bike in West Park View and came across two 1940 twin bed headboards sitting at the curb for trash pick up. FINALLY I realized that I'd found the beginnings of my headboard arrangement. Two twins add up to a king. The whole idea still had to jell in my mind, but after 13 years, I was finally getting something together.

My first task was to spray paint the headboards red. The posts on the bed are missing something, but I'm still not quite sure what was there. A nautical theme made me consider using rope, so I ended up with this:

and this:

to hide whatever is missing.

I looked at Cottage Syle magazine

and Waterside Cottages by Barbara Jacksier

for further inspiration. I saw a room in one of them with an old map hanging on the wall. The owner had mounted some shadow boxes on top of the map as if it was wallpaper. That's how I figured out how to mount the picture on the chart.

I had a coil of rope leftover from Lowes and I'm cheap, so that's how I decided on "framing" the chart with the rope. Contrary to what you read in high-end decorating magazines about "frugal" decorating, it isn't frugal if you pay $300 to custom mat and frame the cool chart you scored for free.

These, my friends, are all the clever, cheap, nautical, and I-don't-like-the-snotty-attitude-of-Powellsfarmstand reasons that this room looks like "me." Next time, I'll show you what I did with the worn kindergarten "cubbies' thrown away during the renovation of Shea Terrace Elementary School across the street a decade ago.

Can you do exactly this? Nope, because this is my frugal decorating life. But you can make your house you in the same way by keeping your eyes open for God's provision. I once just told God I needed a cool new coffee table and found it the next day while walking the dog.

Dear readers, anyone with money to throw away can pay a decorator to buy $2,000 club chairs that they read about in Elle Decor. But the home is the decorator's vision, not the owner's. Only you can make your home uniquely Debra
http://debrasotherthoughts.blogspot.com/
or Judy
http://judyh58.blogspot.com/
or Brenda
http://www.cozylittlehouse.com/

or Annie on a shoestring. And that, kidlets, is real talent.

Little Bit 1997-2011

2011-08-03T13:39:00.002-04:00

I'm Flashing You

2011-07-05T09:16:00.000-04:00

I don't usually get intimidated, but sometimes those blog experts with the gorgeous pics really do check my creativity. There's been a particular bit of helpful advice that's been going around among the elite: never use a flash. Well, I've been going along with that for a while, but it is impossible to take a pic in my living room without one.

I have a deep front porch which runs the whole width of the house that prvevents my living room from being extremely sunny. Today I decided to forget the advice, take my flash pics and blog about what I wanted to say.

I've changed up the living room a bit, here are my flash pics. It's my camera and I'll flash if I want to, flash if I want to, flash if I want to...

Independence Day

2011-07-04T08:08:00.000-04:00

Old Glory at Fort Monroe. And remember, freedom ain't free.

The One-Legged Goose

2011-07-02T11:31:00.001-04:00

I love this little goose who lives in a gaggle with other able-bodied geese on the banks of Scotts Creek. That sounded so Little House on the Prairie, didn’t it? Did I ever tell you I know someone who actually grew up in a sod house? But I digress.

Anyway, she hip hops along on one webbed foot and does her goose thing apparently unconcerned. Little Goose gets into the water last as the group converges for a swim, but she jumps in just the same.

I wonder how far we would swim if we didn’t know there was anything wrong with us? Maybe we could even fly…

Alexandra Stoddard and Bird's Nest Hair

2011-07-01T12:24:00.003-04:00

I’m sitting out at the chippy white table at the hidden corner of my front porch, secluded by a huge trumpet vine with a nest of mourning doves.

Cicadas are loudly calling out summer to each other. Wind chimes sound faintly from time to time. The dove’s feathers ruffled when I first sat down, but they’ve decided I’m harmless and my hair kind of looks like a nest. They’ve started cooing again in the distinctive cadence which gives them their name, so soothing compared to the crow I also hear. Crows seem to have much to complain about, a lot like some folks I know.

As I was getting ready this early morning, I thought about a gracious living book I’d read last night by Alexandra Stoddard. I was surprised that she did NOT advocate waiting until everything was perfect before you enjoy your home. Each room did not have to be dusted and pristine in order to read a favorite book in a chintz-covered chair. I was shocked to note that she also pads around in her night clothes well into the morning. This was not my image of her, but I found it completely refreshing.

I was making an egg sandwich and thought of how nice it would be to enjoy it on the porch. Then I edited myself with all the things I needed to do first like shower and fix my hair. For a short time I succumbed to those thoughts. I folded laundry, threw in another load of wash and did other sensible things.

But you know what? This is the only July 1 this year, which will soon be gone if I get caught up in the tyranny of the mundane. It would be hard for anyone else out and about to see my bird’s nest hair and night shirt but the birds. All this is why you’d find me here if you were strolling down Constitution Avenue and looked very closely behind the pink crepe myrtle, up the six stone steps and behind the trumpet vine.

A Magical Place - The Ward House

2011-06-29T07:05:00.004-04:00

I love this stately old historic home in the next neighborhood over from mine. Now do yourself a big favor and double click on the pic to see all the detail.

The house sits right on the water. The entire property delights me. The architecture of the front porch area to the right pleases my eye. I go a block out of my way every time I'm in West Park View just to see this charming place with the lovely and unusual white picket fence.

One hundred years ago today, Mrs. Ward sat rocking in her long white skirt on that same front porch trying to catch a breeze from the water. She twisted her hair more securely up from her neck fastening it with tortoise shell hair pins while Sonnets from the Portuguese lay unread in her lap and a crow complained loudly of the heat in the trees overhead. Or I'd like to think so, anyway.

How Harrison Ford Made Me Sick This Past Week

2011-06-26T12:04:00.002-04:00

Okay, here's the deal...I adore Harrison Ford. I have loved him ever since Princess Leia said to Han Solo "I love you" and he famously replied "I know," one of the best withering lines in the history of the movies. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sO-KR-14uXM

I still loved him when he divorced his rather plain wife Melissa who wrote the screenplay for ET. I continued to love him even when he married a woman over twenty years younger, whose appearance makes me want shake her by her tiny, boney shoulders and say, "For the love of God woman, eat a Rueben sandwich." They probably just hold her up to the light to do an x-ray. She sort of reminds me of the Olsen twins, one of those smudgey-eyed women who look like feral night creatures.

(photo courtsey of Huffington Post)
But Harrison and I are through. Finished. It is over. I've put up with all the other women, but the outrage below cannot be tolerated. It is abusive.

It is a good thing that I was already in my doctor's office when I read this because if I hadn't needed a check up before, I would have been sick after seeing this sacrilege. AARP????? Indy, my darling, say it isn't so.

Life and a Bike Route

2011-06-21T07:58:00.001-04:00

For some reason, I have always struggled with spacial relations. As you might imagine, this made geometry and parallel parking a nightmare for me. I get nervous when I need to maneuver my bicycle in a narrow space. Well, okay, a space which I perceive as a narrow.

When I leave my neighborhood on my bike, I need to use the sidewalk for a block because London Blvd. is very busy. I make a sharp right hand turn at the end of Chesapeake Avenue and steer the bike through the handicapped ramp to the sidewalk. I get concerned that a car may be turning into the neighborhood.

Even though I have negotiated this little space hundreds of times over the years, my stomach tightens every time I bike through it, which is at least ten times a week. The second I start to get nervous, the bike begins to wobble, as my balance suffers because of my nervous thoughts.

Instead of concentrating on the many times I have safely traveled in this space, I choose to concentrate on the remote possibility that I may fall or somehow steer into oncoming busy traffic. In one second, I change from confidently peddling and enjoying my ride to a sick sense of dread. The moment that my thoughts focus on a bad outcome, my body does its best to help me out with that.

It suddenly hit me on Sunday as I rode my bike past that very spot that my situation is a metaphor about many things in my life. If I proceed forth in the confidence that God is with me and I have all I need to succeed, I do well. When I allow doubt about my abilities or God’s provision to assail me, I begin to wobble on that narrow road that I’m supposed to be traversing. God wasn’t just throwing out random thoughts in Phil 4:8 when He told us to concentrate on what is excellent or praiseworthy, noble and true. He was telling us how to hit the road, so to speak.

Finding Beauty in Unexpected Places

2011-06-18T11:09:00.006-04:00

Sometimes you can miss the beauty in life when you fail to take it in all around you. Saturdays I usually take a longer bike ride. I head toward a marina along Scotts Creek. The road that takes me there is Harper Avenue, actually a private road owned by the CSX Railroad. Last week, I showed you all the Queen Anne's Lace that grows along these tracks. The picture you see above is Harper Avenue's opposite side. This area teems with egrets, Cooper's hawks, foxes, and rabbits.

If you were straddling your bike from the picture's perspective and looked over your shoulder, you would see locomotives and shipping containers in brown, orange, and bright blue; Maersk, Chiang Ming, Hanjin, and Hapag-Llloyd emblazoned on the sides. Looking from the picture's vantage point, you would see my view this morning of nature and a pure white egret.

My focus during the bike ride can be a metaphor for life; something that psychologists call "framing." We all have ups and downs. For everything there is a time and purpose under heaven, as the Byrds sang, and God said eons before they made it into a Number 1 hit. The key to life, and in getting a good picture, is to choose your focus carefully. As a woman thinketh in her heart, so she is.

This morning, I could have focused on the industrial yuck of the tracks and the rusting containers with the ubiquitous white plastic shopping bag blowing along the tracks. Instead, I focused on the egret I inadvertently disturbed into flight rising into the blue sky, the Queen Anne's lace, the sun on my shoulders, and the view of Norfolk's skyline as I reached the marina.

From Around the Cottage Garden

2011-06-17T12:56:00.000-04:00

Evening Storm

2011-06-12T07:19:00.005-04:00

The weather was oppressively hot yesterday. The rain began sometime after 9:30 p.m. My Grandmother Dunn would have said it was teeming. The rain came down in sheets, streaming down under the street light. and bouncing back up from the darkened street under that pool of light. I confess to loving a good ole thunder storm. I shut off the porch light and sat in an old fashioned black rocker as the light show began.

The dark sky had a slight orange cast from the city lights bouncing against the cloud cover, until flashes of lightening illuminated the night sky blue white. Fireflies swooped to shelter under the roof of my front porch. Bioluminescence they call it. I call it a miracle. They winked and danced under the eaves, glad to be in from the rain. I rocked with my hands on the broad painted arms of the chair.

The temperature dropped at least 15 degrees and a breeze hit my bare legs, rocking back and forth. The old live oak across the street swayed its branches just a bit. The tree has no plans to go anywhere. Nearly a hundred years of rain and thunder have raged around that tree and yet it stands.

Cars wooshed by on the rain soaked street and I kept rocking. My Grandmother Galvin's sleeping porch would have been an ideal spot last night with huge old-fashioned glass windows which pulled away from the screens entirely and hooked to the ceiling. The result was a screened in porch to sleep in up on the second floor under the trees. I longed to drag a mattress downstairs so I could sleep on the front porch listening to the falling rain all night long. But that would be too weird even for me.

Queen Anne's Lace

2011-06-11T19:49:00.000-04:00

Before

After

Did you know that Queen Anne's Lace is a member of the carrot family? I know, me neither, but I looked it up today. How weird is that? That old ironstone pitcher is a particular favorite; thrift shopped for my birthday by my friend Nancy, who always knows what I will love.

So, my kind of day. I had breakfast at Starbucks with my sis. Two days post surgery and I was able to ride my bike about 6 or 7 miles. My bike and I are inseparable this time of year.

Queen Anne's lace is definitely a wonderful llustration of that old adage, "bloom where you're planted." These particular lacey blooms were growing on Harper Avenue next to the CSX tracks when I picked them. Or braced my legs and yanked hard on them. They are tenancious.

I like the marina and view of Norfolk's harbor at the end of Harper, but the area where these flowers were growing was pretty desolate. Or was desolate until these flowers moved in.

The Mirror

2011-06-08T15:18:00.012-04:00

Today I had one of those a-ha moments that wasn’t so fun. You know, when you see yourself in the mirror and it isn’t too pretty?

I have a friend whom I admire very much. He is the opposite type of personality than I am, a Type B, very cautious. He thinks things through before he does anything. I’m the opposite. I’m glib. A smart-mouth retort is often at the forefront of my mind. It has served me well at times, but has also proven disastrous.

Some of the very things I admire about him are those differences, his deliberate, measured approach to things. I admire his dedication to duty and his dignity in the midst of a very tough professional situation which he did not bring upon himself. I also admire his dedication to his children, which, without going into detail, has been considerable, even though they are now adults. And there is a certain vulnerability there which I find endearing.

I thought I had been helping him with getting his credentials out there on LinkedIn and getting some of his thoughts down in a blog. Today I was totally thrilled that a major police resource had picked up that blog.

And then the mirror. In the course of a phone conversation where I thought I was encouraging him, he said, laughing, “oh you mean the part when you make me into something I’m not?” I get my feelings hurt easily, so I am the master of hiding that and extricating myself from a phone conversation. I was devastated. I had a hard time continuing on with the professional task before me. It is over two hours later and I still feel like someone punched me.

Could there be a worse message to someone you care about than trying to make him or her into something they aren’t? Actually, the message you send is, “hey, you aren’t okay the way you are.” I love to help people and be an encourager. In this case, what I ended up doing was just the opposite. Folks need to move at their own pace and do things in a manner comfortable for them.

When someone has a problem, it is my natural inclination to fix it. Terry doesn’t know all the bells and whistles of Powerpoint? I can help her. Jason has a long-term upset stomach? I buy papaya enzyme and yoghurt. Nancy has a heart episode? I make spaghetti. It is part of who I am.

You know the problem with that? People need to solve their own problems. Sometimes, maybe most of the time, people just want you to listen to them and be their friend. Maybe they don’t want to hear your smarty-pants suggestions. Maybe they don’t even want to hear you piously say that you’ll pray. Maybe the best thing to do is just keep your mouth shut and pray without saying anything.

Today I learned with a few tears and a good dose of old-fashioned embarrassment, that the way I care may not always be received the way I intended. So, I’m going to be more measured and cautious in my overt displays of caring and let my helping be in between me and God until I’m asked for more. I have plenty of my own things to work on, my own blog to perfect, my own character improvements to make, and my own professional mid-course corrections to work on.

Victorian House on my Bike Route

2011-06-07T12:38:00.002-04:00

I love this Victorian house on my bike route. I want have a writing room in the side turret. I want to sip Earl Grey on the second floor balcony. Look very closely. On the first floor behind the tree there is an enormous round window. I've not seen one like that before. Please note on the upper left hand area of the second floor, the adorable windows and the red accents.

Papa's Repurposed Toolbox

2011-06-05T15:02:00.002-04:00

Papa, my stepfather, was an accomplished carpenter. His father was a caretaker at the DuPont Estate on Fisher's Island, NY. Papa used to follow his father around and he picked up a lot. He built the home his mother retired to on the Connecticut mainland. Although he was a psychologist and an Episcopal priest, Papa could build anything; furniture, decks, plant stand wishing wells for the front yard, and fences with cut outs for hanging plants. As far as I know, he never used directions.

I repurposed Papa's tool box to hold kitchen things. The tool box was originally Pop's (my grandfather and his father-in-law's), so it holds a great deal of history for me. My Pop started out life in the coal mines of Wilkes-Barre, Pensylvania when he was a small boy. Children used to work in the mines because their short stature and small hands were good for many tasks. He went on to be a school principal and a math text book author. My Pop used to dance by standing us on his feet, holding our little hands, and sailing around the room whistling "Tea for Two" from his back teeth.

I'm so glad I have this tool box

March to the Beat of a Different Drummer

2011-06-03T10:05:00.003-04:00

This is a doorway at an upscale apartment building along my bike route called "The Myrtles." The complex is an arrangement of sided units interspersed with brick fronts. I like it, because it breakes up that everlasting sameness of most large complexes.

Now two doors down, there is a resident I'd really like to meet. She (I think of her as a "she" although I have no diea of her gender) has transformed her tiny front porch area into a little urban Eden.

Over to the right, if you look carefully, you can see the cheesecloth covering some type of fruit bush from the birds,. At the front and center is a sunflower.

Lush green plantings off to the left-hand side with yellow lillies starting to bloom in the heat. I have no idea who this person is, but just by looking at her front door, I know that i'd like to be her friend. She must be an avid gardener, making the city greener just outside her front door. As they tell you in military life, bloom where you're planted, baby.

She lives along a busy street downtown. Every time I bike on by, I think of sitting in my grandmother's breakfast nook and looking at a sentimental old painting with the words:

Let me live my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Sam Walter Foss

Thank you my unknown friend for the beauty I enjoy at your hands every day.