Erin Go Bragh (Ireland Forever)

Did you know that St. Patrick used the abundant shamrocks of Ireland to teach Irish pagans about the Holy Trinity?  Consider the leaf, three distinct parts, yet one. 

In honor of my Irish grandparents,  Jimmy Dunn, John Robert Galvin, Esquire, Arline O'Toole, and Helen Beausang, I wish you a very Happy St. Patrick's Day.

The Prayer of St. Patrick
I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me

Afar and anear,
Alone or in a mulitude.
Christ shield me today
Against wounding

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through the mighty strength
Of the Lord of creation

23 Wind Road

Ahhhhhh two nights in a row of sleep.  I slept until 9:10 this morning.  I'm feeling nearly human again.

As my grandmother, Helen, used to say, "I feel drunk with power!"  Helen never worried too much about not sleeping.  When we thought she looked tired and would urge her to take a nap, she would say, "I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I am six feet under!" 

Actually, I don't think that's true, because I'm sure she's enjoying hanging out with Mary, the mother of Jesus, and interfering with all of our lives by praying without ceasing.   She had a bunch of colorful sayings, like "a blind man wouldn't know the difference" and "here he comes, sled and all" if you were coming in the door laden with packages or grocery bags.  The Irish say things like that. 

I think of her around St. Patrick's Day.   I see her in my mind's eye, talking to her sister Kit at the end of the day.  Not your typical old lady, she would sit on the red-carpeted  bottom riser of the staircase and have a good chat, left elbow on her knee, leaning her head on her hand.  The receiver of the rotary phone she never replaced was in her right.  Then they both solved all the problems of the world in 10 minutes, two old ladies in slippers, one in East Hartford and the other in West.

Her house was my refuge with beatiful Victorian things that belong to me now.  The silver service on the banner of this blog was hers.  When I am very troubled, I go back to 23 Wind Road alone inside my mind and walk through those rooms.  Every room is imprinted exactly as it was when I was a child.  I know every creaky board on the floor.  In real life, I will lie down on her bed with the pineapple carving.

Sometimes, I dream about 23 Wind Road.  Suddenly, she will walk up the basement stairs with some laundry in a blue basket as if she had never been gone at all.

When my Dad first came here to visit, he looked around and said, "I love this house.  I feel so at home here.  You've created Wind Road all over again!  It was the best compliment I could ever have.

The pic above is one painted of 23 Wind Road.  My trees out front look just the same right now at the tree on the right.  My bedroom was at the right second hand window.  I still miss it.

Lovely Tuesday

I've been on a "lack of sleep" jag since last Friday.  Ohhhhh, how I hate it.  There was nothing specifically wrong, but I was getting about three hours a night.  In a new and dismaying development, I can't seem to nap either.  ICK.  In graduate school, I had one problematic team member who was so bad that it actually would have been easier to do the work without her.  She was reassigned to another team after we finished the project yesterday.  At least we will not have to work with her on the next one.  Finally, I slept last night!

I had lunch out this afternoon, picked up some groceries, and did some thrift store shopping. I had read someone's blog (I forget whose) that said that Tuesdays are the most fruitful day for thrift stores.  The idea is that lots of donations come in from folks over the weekend.  By Tuesday, everything has been processed and shelved.  I have found this to be just right at my local haunts.  I picked up two wonderful tea pots, a hobnail milk glass mirror (!), a really upscale outdoor birdhouse that I'll use indoors, and a green glass vase for the dining room collection.  I'll get some pics up this week.

Enjoy the pear blossoms from the tree in my front yard.  I think they are perfectly perfect in lacey exquisiteness.  I would rather have the blossoms than the pears!  The beautiful ironstore pitcher was a birthday present from my thrift store junkie friend, Nancy.  It is one of the things I'd grab as I was running from the house in a tsunami.

So even though today was cloudy in Portsmouth, Virginia, it was still a lovely day because my mind started working again.  Never mind milk, sleep..it does a body good!

Seize the day!

Spring outside, Spring inside

Greetings from sunny Virginia. Here I am with a cup of chai and the wash on spin cycle in the laundry room.  Light colors, in case you were wondering.  I switch between chai and Earl Grey, sometimes Irish Breakfast tea...in case you were wondering about that. I doubt you were, but just in case.

On Saturday I posted about Spring arriving in Portsmouth on the outside.  Now you can see Spring arriving on the inside. 

So you can see that I love ceramic birds, right?  I'm not sure what it is about them.  I'm not wildly enthusiastic about any kind of inside bird, like a parakeet.  I do love cardinals and other outside birds.  I always have some sparrows that nest starting this time of year in a trumpet vine and trellis I have out front.  When I used to brush my husky, who is in heaven now, I would take his abundant fur and leave it near the trellis for the birds.  I could see it peeping out from their nest.  I do love the sound of my mourning doves cooing outside the bedroom window in their plaintive tones.

I have a little rule about various collections.  I have to be able to buy them for $5 or under. This helps me be selective and increases the thrill of the chase for me.  I try to keep the birds under $3, if I can. 

I had a turkey burger at Red Robin for lunch yesterday.  I'm not wild about chain restaurants but I do like Red Robin...yum.  And then the siren call of Michaels drew me in to the store. I was powerless,  assure you.  I found three sets of birds which met my specifications and, well, it was like I'd just discovered King Tut's tomb, trust me.  I found the biggger blue and yellow birds and the sweet little pair with the rosebuds.  The other ones in the picture came from the Dollar Store years ago.  

Naturally I had to come home and set up a vignette with a vintage bird cage.  This whole bird cage thing is all my mother's fault because she decorated with one in 1970, long before shabby was chic or anyone else thought of it. Mom is like that...a trend setter.  She also owns well over 200 pairs of shoes in every color of the rainbow.  She has very tiny feet, so she buys all the cool shoes that no other adult woman can wear when they go on sale.  Don't you hate her?  Now most women don't have a pair of green shoes.  I think Mom has three pair of green shoes, at least that I've seen. One never knows. 

I bought another pair of birds that I'll show you later in the week.  There's been a crown decorating trend for all of us cottagey shabby chic'ers, as well as a ceramic bird trend.  This white pair with a lovely finish have crowns!  Crown them with many crowns, the birds upon the nest!  I don't know...

Portsmouth Spring

Tsunamis and More Mundane Matters

For a variety of reasons, I couldn't seem to fall asleep last night.  Perhaps it was my caffeinated Starbucks too late in the day.  My writing has been pouring out and I've reached a critical juncture.  Every time I close my eyes, I only see Westchester County, New York and the characters dance around on the movie screen behind my eyes.  There's a relationship on my mind.  Whatever it was, I was still awake with cable news on when the information on Japan and the tsunami headed for the US was broadcast.

My beloved Hawaii.  All I could think of was my friend Snow Jade.  I checked to see if she was on line, and then sent an email with love and prayers.  It was so good to have her email back in a few hours that she is fine in her high rise condo in Waikiki.  Snow Jade and I were Red Cross military caseworkers at Hickam Air Force Base so many years ago.  She was there the day a crazy woman came in and threated to "shoot fire out of her finger tips" at me if I didn't get her on a military flight.  I couldn't think of a reasonable response.  Snow Jade said, "go ahead" and picked up the fire extinguisher, just in case. Taiwanese people are not easily ruffled.

What does this have to do with Norfolk County Seed and Feed?  Nothing.  But this was the blog entry I'd planned before the devastation halfway across the world.   Norfolk County, the county, that is, existed from 1691 to 1963.  Norfolk County used to include the city of Portsmouth until it became its own city and county during the Kennedy administration.  And Norfolk County Feed and Seed was there long before JFK.  It is another thing I love about Portsmouth, with a resident cat called Skittles, wooden floors, and local spuds and eggs for sale.  We worried it might close when Walmart moved in across the street, but it thrives selling indoor and outdoor plants, odd hardware items, and yes...feed as well as seed.

Twelve years ago, a dog who is now in heaven broke the china shade of this antique brass lamp.  The lamp has a key feature to turn it on and off that I really love.  For all these twelve years, I've been looking for a replacement every where from New York to Atlanta.  Where did I find it?  A half mile away at Norfolk County Seed and Feed.

Thursday Morning

Greetings from cold and rainy Virginia, where a small, wet, white dog sits beside me hoping that a morsel will drop off my plate.  I'm eating a whole grain Thomas' English muffin with almond butter and Simply Fruit, raspberry. Sublime.  Lulu is a cute vulture with fur, I don't think Darwin could explain her. She's also waiting for the dregs of my cinnamon and cardamon-infused chai tea.  Good luck on that because I drank it down to the last dregs. 

You do know about the spice cardamon, right?  It is much more popular in Scandinavian countries.  Cardamon is lovely in any kind of baked goods instead of cinnamon, like apple pie or banana bread.  It has a lighter, almost citrus-y scent.  Sometimes I open the bottle and just sniff, as I do with whole vanilla beans and freshly-ground coffee.  Yes, I know, I need a life. Strangely, I also like the smell of gasoline.

I've got a pot of split-pea soup cooking.  Just that kind of day, I think.  I like mine spicy, with red pepper flakes, fennel seed, and cumin.  I start it early, because it tastes better after it sits a bit.

So my Dr. Pepper crate up there.  I've had that out in the garage for ten years.  I had no idea what to do with it, but I knew I needed to keep it.  I'm always fiddling for a pen and something to write on in the kitchen, as well as for the remote...et tout voila, an organizer.  I started thinking about this when I saw the link below on Junk Market Style:

http://www.junkmarketstyle.com/item/10012/great-crates

Why I Love Where I Live

There are many reasons why I love my little city, but here's one of them.  I heart my city police department. Wondering why?  Check this out.

So this morning I'm running to Starbucks for a vente three equal sugar free vanilla six pump soy latte before an appointment.  I have my go juice with me in the car, leave the drive through, turn right onto Green Street headed for London Street.  I look to my right to see:

This kind of startled me.  I know that the law says you need to leave a lot of room between your car and an emergency vehicle, but I wasn't too clear about a horse.  Okay, now I'm more than sure that not one of you saw something like this next to the Red Cross building in your town this morning.

Or this:

Because it is important that Pam's Hair Designs with the red marquee, and yes, ALL of Green Street is safe from varmints, rustlers, women of ill fame, horse thieves, and other malefactors.  I've seen some interesting things in my city concerning my police department, but this tops even the time that the transvestite counterfeiters were arrested by PPD and the Secret Service on Chesapeake Avenue in my neighborhood. I was never sure whether it was a lifestyle choice or a disguise.

Quite seriously, police horses do important work. NYPD depends on their horses for all sorts of things,including patrolling Central Park.  All horses  need exercise.  It is important that police horses become used to traffic vs. being exercised in a ring or a rural area.  Our equine friends are highly effective at crowd control. They are used here for big football games and other community events. 

Another officer on a different horse named Knightmare (I think this horse's name is Max.  Knightmare is a cooler name) once caught a bank robber hiding in the bushes with the bag and the dye pack leaking all over the place.  Cops have a great vantage point on top of a horse.  Horses and their humans also serve during parades, particularly Portsmouth's Memorial Day Parade, the oldest in the nation.  I love Portsmouth's police horses, one of the wonderful things about living here.  Seriously.

Living Room Corner

I love this sunny corner of my living room.

March Marble Top

The marble top decked out for March.  The china you see is Franciscan Ivy pattern which once belonged to my parents,  It also once belonged to Lucy and Ricky Ricardo in their New York apartment. 

Faded Roses

I will live with the roses Where the sea of mem'ry flows
And each time I dream then a tear will gleam
On this petal from a faded rose

Signs of Spring

These daisies just make me happy.  I got the idea at this beautiful blog:  http://www.paintmewhite.com/

My Favorite Things

I've written about my church pew before, one of my favorite things.  There are certain areas, like my mantle, the marble top table, and the pew that I love to tweak on and change around for the seasons.   Click on any of the pics to see a larger view, if you like. 

I've had my eye on those two botanical prints. I fell in love with their delicate colors, as well as the unusual wicker frames. When I saw they were marked down to $11, I pounced.
 
Among our favorite family movies is The Sound of Music.  My sister, Kerry, holds the current family record of having viewed it 9,724 times along with every episode of Little House on the Prairie 10 times.  This is why she knew that the actor Patrick Laborteaux who played "Bud" on JAG was also "Andy Garvey" on Little House when he was a child.  You can see why I depend upon her for these things. But I digress. 

Sometimes I really like the texture of simple things, which is why I loved the balls of string in the bowl.  The Lenox bowl was a housewarming present from my cousin Marianne, who is actually more like a beloved auntie.  I use the bowl constantly.

I've been crazy lately for this font called "Veteran Typewriter."  Along with my obsession with naming things with Scrabble tiles, I also like to make old-timey looking labels printed on card stock using that font.  It is available on line free, just Google the name and download it.  Thus, the bowl has been labeled "brown paper packages tied up with string" part of the lyrics of  "My Favorite Things" which Julie Andrews sang in the movie. 

Just a glimpse into the strange workings of my mind.  Yes, I know, it scares me too, sometimes.  Oh the prints?  From Walmart.  And, no, I don't mind one bit if you want to run out and buy them, too.

Be Still

Good morning from sunny Virginia, where if you didn't like the weather yesterday (78 degrees), you may like it better 8 hours later at 38 degrees.  Just sayin'. 

That's why I woke up this morning unaccountably quite cold.  I flung open all the windows last night because I love the fresh air, but didn't check the weather report for today.  Not checking the weather is one of those cheap thrills I like to give myself, demonstrating my devil-may-care attitude about how many pills are left in the bottle, how far below half my gas gauge displays, and where my keys are at any given time.  I live life on the ragged edge.

So as I woke up this morning and pulled my blanket off Lulu (she had a fur coat) and on to my icy feet, I looked up to the Bible verse that has been over my front bedrooom windows for several years now.

"Be still and know that I am God," Psalm 46:10.  I don't know about you, but I have a terribly hard time being still.  I want to be running, going, jumping, and doing.  I want to tweak a vignette, call a friend, paint something, cook a new enchilada recipe, go to Starbucks or find something cool at Goodwill.  I need to use Murphy's Oil Soap on the hardwood floors, read for my graduate school class, and hang a load of wash on the line.  Being still is a hard thing for me, as is keeping my mouth shut.

My wonderful friend, Terry and I have been doing something new with Bible study.  It was Terry's idea.  We are not studying anyone else's thoughts (like Beth Moore or Kay Arthur, as fabulous as they are), but are instead going through shorter passages of the Word and looking up key words and phrases.  This technique has really been opening our eyes, even though we know the basic definitions of the dictionary words.  The practice illuminates many shades of meaning to what we read, especially in familiar passages.

I go to Dictionary.com, where today's Word of the Day is "masticate" in case you were wondering.  To me, "masticate" sounds far less appealing than what you do with a mouthful of birthday cake.  In any case, these are the definintions for still.  That is "still" the adjective, not the "still" that moonshiners use.

1. remaining in place or at rest; motionless; stationary
2. free from sound or noise, as a place or persons; silent
3. subdued or low in sound; hushed: a still, small voice.
4. free from turbulence or commotion; peaceful; tranquil; calm
5. without waves or perceptible current

Oh, if I could only learn to remain at rest, to be free from noise, to be hushed with a still, small voice, and without commotion!  God doesn't call us to anything which isn't possible, so if He says, "Be still," it isn't really a suggestion or an impossibility. 

I had been particularly busy and frenetic of late, doing my best impression of the Biblical Martha (Jesus said, Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things).  God can use everything in your life, though.  He has used health circumstances to bring me to an "all stop."  The most recent thing has been pneumonia.  I've been sicker than I've been in years.  But, it hasn't been a bad thing at all.  I've had to get still, slow down, and revaluate.  I'm thankful for a military heath care system that had me in a bed getting treated three minutes after I arrived.  I'm thankful for free prescriptions and effective medication.  And I'm thankful for the chance to be still and figure out what God wants me to do next. 

Just before I go, I want to share with you the other thing in my line of vision when I wake up, because no posting from me is complete without a vintage thing. My grandmother, Helen got me started on a love of tea, teapots, and tea cups.  These are on the bureau in the bedroom.  They look vintage, but both are newer.  I picked them up very cheaply at Goodwill. The plates are old and were purchased for under a dollar.  That's what I love about the cottage-y, shabby chic look. It doens't have to be expensive.

Stained Glass

My Mom has given me some truly memorable gifts.  She gave me was her flair for decorating, her exquisite timing in telling a story, and her highly developed sense of the ridiculous.  Last time she visited she brought this amazing piece of stained glass. 

Thanks, Mom!

Bird, Bird, Bird...a variation on Duck, Duck, Goose

For some reason, and I can't explain why, this pic struck me as very "Daisy Cottage Kim."  These aren't her colors, but when I think back to my decor about five years ago, I can see her esthetic, her influence, all over the house.

Wreath in the Cowboy Bathroom

White

White is not a mere absence of color; it is a shining and affirmative thing, as fierce as red, as definite as black. God paints in many colors; but He never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white.  G.K. Chesterton

The Good Old Days?

Sometimes this world is so ugly that I find it difficult to live in it. This weekend is one of those times. As a result, I have the tendency to romanticize earlier times as the “good old days.” I have often expressed the wish that I had been born several generations earlier.

But were things so good in years past? Were things good in the 1960’s? Well, maybe, if you didn’t think about the assassination of our President, his brother, and Dr. King. Things were good unless it was your son or daughter who was dropping acid or addicted to heroin. Times were okay if you could overlook Russian nuclear weapons trained on our nation from Cuba, 90 miles away. Things were good unless you lived in East Germany and wanted to escape to freedom over the Wall. Things were so insecure that we were encouraged to build fall out shelters in our back yards.

Were things good in the 1950’s? Well, I suppose they were unless you were African American and wanted to vote in the South or were a woman who wanted to be a physician. Things were good unless you were an abused child or spouse and couldn’t get help. The world was shiny and bright unless you were a rape victim who was made to feel shame instead of receiving justice. Things were terrific, all backyard bbq’s and Leave it to Beaver, unless you were wounded in the Korean War. Those warriors were largely ignored when they returned home and had almost no veteran’s services.

How about the 1930’s and 1940’s? I love aprons and cookbooks from way back then.  I scout out the lamps and furniture from this period at vintage stores. However, the world was facing the rise of a maniacal dictator, a world war, and the killing of millions simply because they were God’s chosen people.  

What about the1920’s? Wellllllll, promiscuity was rampant and Prohibition was giving birth to organized crime. We had just lost millions of men in World War I. The Roaring Twenties were okay unless you were one of the poor Jewish and Italian immigrant women who perished in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York City because the owners locked you in from the outside. This was a prosperous era unless you were taken advantage of by an unscrupulous Wall Street trader who encouraged investing on margin. Sound familiar?


Well maybe it was better in the romantic South where women who glowed and fanned themselves sipped iced tea on the verandah in beautiful white hoop skirts? Sure, those were the good old days unless you were among those individuals who thought it was okay with God to own other human beings…or you actually were one of those who were owned.


The “good old days” were only totally good in retrospect. We have faced violence, inhumanity, greed, prejudice, disease, immorality, fear, political infighting,hate speech, and uncertainty in every generation.


What is our only constant? God. “Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee.”


Fear not, Jesus said. For I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.

And I say, Amen...so be it.

Arizona

Jesus wept.     

John 11:35

MY KIND OF DECORATING

You know that room in your house.  C'mon, you know the one, the junk room. The room where you throw the books that you keep forgetting to take to the library sale and the clothes you meant to take to the attic when it got hot. The place where you shove stuff you don’t want to keep but can’t commit to throw away.

I had a room like that. My house started out as a
one family home. During World War II, it was made into two apartments, as many homes were in this military area. Another owner consolidated it into one house once again. The room I am describing is entered through pocket doors from the master bedroom. It was originally a nursery. It was a kitchen in the apartment era. An owner in the seventies turned it into a huge closet, with one wall of clothing rods top and bottom and built-in cedar lined bench storage units. Think very beige and lot of seventies track lighting. I loved the storage space, hated the room itself.

When I couldn’t stand it one minute longer, I removed the nasty wall to wall carpeting, painted the floor with high gloss enamel and turned it into a study/dressing area. I was stumped for a week on how to hide the clothes for cheap, cheap, cheap. Finally, I hung PVC piping from chrome chains anchored in the ceiling. The sheets are Mainstay twin sheets from Walmart, I just cut open the top hem and hung them. $4 per pair.

Almost everything else in the room I either had already, bought at Goodwill, or rescued from the curbside as follows:

Desk – my Papa made it for me

Dresser – Goodwill

Blue and red wicker storage bins – on sale Michaels

Globe – thrift store

Red Table – rescued from the curbside and painted.

Blue chair – belonged to my 3rd great grandfather who fought in the Civil War

Window seat stuff – Goodwill

Sailboat painting - Goodwill
Decorative items on open shelving - Goodwill
Decorative plates - Goodwill

FOOD: Wherein I post about a special dish; special because of convenience, taste, price or all three.

One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.  ~Luciano Pavarotti

I like to keep a package or two of frozen creamed spinach (in the boil-in bag) in the freezer.  It goes on sale from time to time.  I don't use a great deal of convenience food, but the calorie and fat count on frozen creamed spinach isn't too bad.   

Last night, I had an hour and a half to fold two loads of laundry, put in another bunch of dirty clothes, feed the dogs, make dinner, research how to make a headboard out of an old door, and get ready for Bible study.  Here's what I threw together for dinner.  The prep time took five minutes.  I used the cooking time to take care of all the other tasks.

Chicken Florentine For a Busy Night

4 boneless chicken breasts
1/2 t nutmeg
1/2 fresh ground pepper
1/2 t red pepper flakes
1 pkg frozen creamed spinach
Parmesan cheese

Brown the chicken breasts on each side. Mix spinach and spices. spread a small amount of creamed spinach on the bottom of an oven proof casserole with a lid. Place chicken in the casserole. Put creamed spinach mixture on top.  Bake with the lid on at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.   Serve with parmesan cheese on top.

I served the chicken with frozen mixed veggies and a baked yam to rave reviews.  I sliced the chicken up into bite-sized pieces, but you don't have to. 

I always have baked yams cooked ahead.  I bake 6 at a time and use them for lunch or for a side with dinner.