Scary memory from my yoot

I was 13 years old.
I sang this song at a school assembly.
Solo.

Just for fun.

Aicheemama!
Whatever was I thinking?!?

Impetuous yoot.


Scary.

Tony left it...

and so did I.

Last night, whilst driving along the winding road towards home - I was listening to a mixed cd of fave songs when The Tony Bennett Signature Song came on the player.

True to form when'ere I hear 'I Left My Heart in San Francisco', I experienced a sustained moment of being in the 'Wow Zone' - which is not unlike the 'Seinfeld style Desperado Zone'. This is not altogether a great idea when driving a meandering road into the forestlands lit by a scant moon, so thanks for your concern, but I did just fine.

Like the song, my mood was definitely dreamy.
Perhaps it was the dark and quiet of the drive.
Reviewing random thoughts of the day's events while navigating the familiar turns of the mountain roadway.
That end-of-day peacefulness as one moves homeward for food, comfort and relaxation.
This, the perfect scenario for focused listening. For me, it was like hearing 'I Left My Heart...' for the very first time. Things sometimes get so familiar that you start taking them for granted. People. Places. Even a song. Given a change of setting or viewed from another perspective, that something can suddently breathe with new life.
When one is in the moment and truly attentive, clarity can reign.
Everything old is new again when captured in a moment of renewed appreciation.

As a native San Franciscan, the melody and words of 'I Left My Heart...' seem woven into my very essence. The song begins with the simplest accompaniment: a piano. I embrace the 7 sweet little notes that are repeated throughout the piece. They are played with a delicate touch that illustrates well what it means to 'tickle the ivories'.

I hang on every syllable of Tony's sensitive phrasing and take note of the effortlessness of his delivery. No one else can sing the word 'fog' the way Tony does in this song. Soooooooo S-M-O-O-T-H.

He moves through the song with the ease of a leisurely stroll. Anyone who has been to The City can imagine the picture painted by those lyrics: to be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars (and where ) the morning fog chills the air (I don't care).

It's [sigh] Absolute Perfection.

Thank you thank you to the romantic duo of New Yorkers George Cory and Douglas Cross for penning this song.
It has become Mr. Bennett's exclusively, yet others have dared to try it on for size:
Sinatra?!? No Thanks - NY NY is your song, babe.
Gavin Newsom?!?! Ai Ya! Please don't!

As for Tony leaving his and me leaving mine...
Well, if you must know, a little bit of my heart is left here and there and everywhere with places I've lived and loved, visited and loved, and with people I've known and loved.
The thing is - the heart isn't diminished but strengthened by and made all the more whole...

[sigh again]

The artsy heart pictured on the pedestal was painted by Tony B. and is located in Union Square (Robert Shields?!? I worked a block from Union Square in the early 70's and would see him performing at The Square; and made sure to walk on the other side of the street so he couldn't target me to mimic and mime after...) and is part of the San Francisco General Hospital Foundation's Heroes and Hearts Program.

Looking towards a new year filled with good times ~
I've just added to B's Things To-Do/ Places to See/ People to Meet LIST:
Field trip to (the new improved) Union Square.
Bring iPod with aforementioned Tony Song.
Sit by Tony's painted heart and have a listen to the song.
Go into serious I Left My Heart Zone.

Then head somewhere nearby for a simple but delicious San Francisco-style lunch.
(Any suggestions?)
Feed the heart and soul and then the tum-tum.

T'is the season...

...to be knitting.
It's Post Christmas. Whaaaaaaa hoppened?!?!?
The last week has been something of a blurrrrrrrr.

But hey - and hurrah! Christmas Day has come and gone, and The Post Christmas Season knitting bug just bit me - hard. It happened last night when I finished my very first felted project - a bowl (well, it's more like a small bucket) from this book. Aforementioned bucket is air-drying in front of the heater vent as I write this. No promises, but there may be before n' after pix of that felted knitting project posted on this blog in the not-too-distant future. That is, if I'm not too pre-occupied with more of the same...

Oodles more simple knitting projects beckon. After I've got a few 'quick n' easy' (though no knitting projects are ever quick or easy for me) things completed, then perhaps - just maybe - yes, it could happen - I'll be getting back to that unfinished sweater from - what - 2 years ago? Now wouldn't that be nice? I may yet emerge from the Wannabe Knitter cocoon I"ve been stuck in for far too long - and get back to being a Real Knitter again.

Yes yes.
Start small (scarves!)(felted bowls and clutch bags and flowers!)(already it seems that 'I Feel Like Felting' may warrant its own post before long), then move onward to more involved projects.

Settling in on a cold winter afternoon with bamboo knitting needles (given a choice, bamboo is the ONLY way to fly) and yarn has got to be one of the cozier crafting choices for the upcoming months...

Guess what.
Post Holidaze t'is also the season to begin crafting for the next year's Holidaze Season, don't you agree?
If one were smart about it.
(All good intentions aside) I am not.

P.S. Check out this crazy wonderful knitting fanatic!

Merry Happy Joyous Be Good to Others and to Yourself

Curse of the Golden Flower (a wee Curmudgeon Post)

Of course I'm looking forward to this movie (be sure to enter site and watch the 'making of' featurettes). It's a blockbuster that will open soon in mainstream America moviehouses.
What's not to get excited about?

Set in The Forbidden City, it looks absolutely spectacular. It's based on an old Chinese story. It stars Gong Li and Asian-Man-of-the-Hour Chow Young Fat. It's shades of (Chinese) Crouching Tiger.. Hero...Flying Daggers and - at the risk of contributing to the typical lumping of Chinese and Japanese into the same All-Asians-are-Alike Pot...this movie even promises something of the silken dreamy imagery we saw in Memoirs...

I first viewed the movie trailer for 'Curse of the Golden Flower' yesterday. HD and I went to see Daniel (WhatABody) Craig as the 'new James Bond' (a silly notion, seeing that there is really only one James Bond. We just allow the other guys to use the 007 moniker and identity for a movie moment or two...).

Ahem.
So - uh - where were we? That Daniel Craig Guy Who Hints of Steve McQueen got me ...well...a bit distracted...

Excuse the digression. Back to 'Curse of the Golden Flower'..
Regarding the trailer, my In-Theater-Exclamation (replete with HubbyDear rolling his eyes and shushing me) was 'OhGod. Another Chinese movie with swishing swords and flying leaps?!' 'So when do we get to see Chinese/Asians as everyday people doing everyday things and not necessarily as SuperLeaperKungFuConcubine types?!?'

Soon after, I settled down.
Follow-up reaction: Really and truly, I'm usually ever-so-happy to see Chinese cinema cross over to Big Screen America - the exposure can be a positive one. Even if I do cringe when it means playing the MartialArtsSuperInscrutableAsianDemeanorDemureFlawless
AsianBeautyWithExquisitelyPaintedRedLips race card once again.

[sigh]

I really hoped the popularity of 'The Joy Luck Club' would kick-start an understanding that Asian-Americans can be, more or less - your 'everyday Joes/Josettes'. People who wake up in the morning and get through their day without resorting to using their jewel-encrusted swords to slice and dice anyone who offends. Without taking a step and having it become a leap into the tops of a bamboo thicket or bouncing light-as-a-feather over rooftops.

Amy Tan is second gen American, yet she was able to successfully offer up something of contemporary life involving ABCs which, when swooped up by Hollywood, became a movie that proved a refreshing change from the Dragon Ladies or KungFu Masters flicks the Hollywood Machine typically churns out.

Are Asians only palatable to the Western moviegoer if packaged in the all-too-familiar stereotypes? Sure, we've come away from the likes of Fu Manchu and the inscrutable Charlie Chan (#1 Son rocked, though, didn't he?). Bespectacled Asian nerds are hopefully a thing of the past. We suffered through completely goofy nerds then admired the fight and might of Bruce Lee. Then we went on to laughing along with (not at) funny groovy wannabe hep fightn' guy Jackie Chan (Hey! Chinese guys can be funny without wearing horn-rimmed specs and acting nerdy!).

The ladies have run the gamut from Anna May Wong's in-the-shadows exotica to Suzie Wong's heart-of-gold prostitute exotica to Lucy Liu's exotica Angel to Ziyi Zhang doing high kicks as an exotica Asian Gang Queen. Not much of a gamut there, though, come to think of it.
Now we have the classic Asian beauties who float around in long silken robes but can also double as defenders of Good and Right using their kick-ass KungFu skills. All well and good.

We're still talking Mainstream here. Ya gotta work, ya gotta bring home the paycheck. Whatever roles are available, right?
[Is anyone else sick of seeing Asians on TV/ in movies wearing white lab coats and/or scrubs?]
You've got to know that Asian actors are chomping at the bit to portray more complex characters in diverse roles. Moreover, they are talented enough to deliver.

Recognition of Asian actors and moviemakers is a good thing. A wonderful thing. But subject matter within the 'Asian genre' as far as popular movies could benefit greatly from a widening of scope. I mean W-I-D-E. It's doable.
Asians are all that and more. So writers, moviemakers and promoters - tap into it awreddy!

(A special Huzzah here for Sandra Oh, who is trying to break through the glass ceiling with whatever opportunities are available...)

A few Asian artsy films earn art house media attention, but that's not hardly enough to educate the movie-going masses and change a few perspectives.
There's no denying the plethora of quality Asian film in the foreign archives, with more in the making every day. Keep in mind that I'm focused on the messages that continue to go out on the Mainstream Waves. Mainstream is where myths perpetuate or have the potential to be dispelled.
Isn't it high time to add a few up-to-snuff Asian reality feathers in our proverbial blockbuster movie cap before calling it a day?

I'm going to see 'Curse'.
I will love it. I will be sure to buy the movie when it's released on DVD. Yet I will always want for more.

Damn it.

Last minute Lydia

Eleventh hour Eleanor.
Too late Tilly.
Catch-up Cassie.
Pokey little (puppy) Petunia.
Lagging behind Letitia.

Holiday cards...eeeeps!
This is the latest I've ever gotten them out.
Truth be known, they aren't even 'out' (read: mailed).

The cards are still on the drafting table. Works in progress.
I am determined to have them ready for mailing by mid-afternoon, and will be taking said cards directly to the main post office for processing!

With any luck, the cards will arrive into the intended snailmailboxes by this Saturday, the 23rd.
My official countdown is on!!!

Egads Edgar.
In the future, perhaps this is a lesson to be learned > to not put this additional holiday pressure upon myself. Keep it simple - and enjoy. Those who need to know I'm thinking about them - will know it all year long - through my words and deeds - e-mails and other e-communication.

Truth be known, Last minute Lydia is actually All the Time Alison.

A spicy life...

...gone awry.

Whilst perusing my latest issue of 'everyday FOOD', I came across an ad for McCormick spices. 'Get rid of your old spices' was the gist of the ad. I state the obvious, but 'Buy new spices' is the other half of the message.

The ad shows a picture of McCormick's 'old' packaging in the square-ish tins as well as a bottle of McCormick's with a 'Baltimore, MD.' on the label. OLD STUFF. At least 15 years old!

I went straightaway to the kitchen drawer where my spices/herbs are kept. Sure 'nuff, there were 6 tins of ancient McCormick's herb-spices in the mix! I'm happy to report, though - that I have NO jars with Baltimore, MD. on the label.

However.
Though I'm 'busted' as far as being one who keeps old spice TINS, rest assured that not all the spices therein are past the usable due date. I like the look of the old-style tins so much that I've refilled two of them in the past fifteen years: whole allspice and whole celery seed.

Hmmmmmm, the cardamom, turmeric and mace tins are indeed old, but still over half full...
[sniff]
Hmmmmmm....they still smell....spicy...
(to keep or not to keep?)
(how often do I actually use cardamom, turmeric and mace anyways?)
(though I am planning to cook more East Indian fare in the coming year....)
(trash 'em and start anew, then?)

Moral of story as interpreted by O Baffled One: buy the spices/herbs you need but don't use often in teeny tiny quantities from the bulk section of a food store. Forego any size of the packaged or bottled stuff if all you need is a pinch.

OOOOPS! Counterproductive advertising!

I'm taking the liberty of combining adverts here, but this post begs the question:
'What's in YOUR spice rack/ drawer/ cupboard?!?'

Chanukah, Hanukkah, Hannukah

This one is for DollinkDaughterLLS

I have confidence in YOU!

The Sound of Music: Edelweiss

Lest we forget...

We should not overlook the fact that for many folks...it will not be a merry happy joyful best season of the year holiday time this month.

It will be:
sad
cold
lonely
depressing

They may be:
- Wanting for basic comforts: shelter, food, support of family/friends.
- Overwhelmed with missing someone who is temporarily absent or permanently gone.
- In need of (and not in receipt of) attention/ acknowledgement/validation of their existence.

The commercial (as well as emotional) OVERABUNDANCE at holiday time may only serve to magnify feelings, wants and needs that are not in keeping with the obligatory merry-making and joyfulness of the season.

Though they may wish to, not everyone has the facility to jump on the Happy Holidays bandwagon...


'The Pain on Christmas Eve' artist: Asbjorn Lonvig

words

Here are just a few words (from a long list) that I'd like to incorporate into my vocabulary and begin using with relative ease and/or wild abandon in my speech (without sounding too highfalutin to my sistahs and brutthahs in da 'hood):
Pundit
Braggadocio
Loquacious
Hubris
Pontificate
Irascible
Salubrious

Of course, I'll always use my many made-up words and phrases: yonky, skizzy over, yoi, snortling, etc.
But increasing one's vocab is always a good thing, wouldn't you agree?

[P.S. I do so luv quite a few of those BeeGees songs...]

KISS me once and KISS me twice

and KISS me once again...

These little chocolate candies look more like miniature game board pieces (which makes them loads of FUN to play with) than Hershey's kisses, but no matter. With that candy-coated outer shell, they taste a lot like double m's. They are YUMMY.

Kissables are made from Hershey's milk chocolate, which of course doesn't compare with the full, rich, deep cacao flavor of Scharffen Berger. So don't compare awreddy!

Instead - KISS me once and KISS me twice and KISS me once again...

Up on the housetop...

The inspiration for today's post is courtesy of DollinkDaughterJrS, who called to chat this morn.

JrS had a hard time falling asleep last night because she was trying to remember the names of Santa's reindeer. Instead of counting sheep, my DollinkDaughter is counting and naming reindeer. She could only remember 7 of the 9 (how many of us can even recall there were a total of 9?!)

I happened to be at the computer when we were having our phone conversation and 'googled' Santa's Reindeer. Within seconds, I was able to tell her the names missing from her reindeer list: Prancer and Vixen. It's interesting to note that as young'uns, we never questioned the reindeer's unusual names: i.e. Blitzen.
Or Donder (aka Donner).

For more info, check out these little known factoids about the reindeer.

Here's another fun reindeer site for you to peruse until the 24th...when...up on the housetop...(there may be a bit of caterwauling..).

NaBloPoMo

Some of you may have noticed that I posted every day in November.
I was kinda sorta participating (without officially signing up for it) in a blogosphere challenge.

The experience of a daily post was much like:

Feeding a brandied fruit starter (which I did in the 1970's).
which was similar to:

Feeding a Never-Ending quick-rise bread sponge (also popular about the same time).
Can't find a link to this, but it's much like the brandied fruit starter. The starter sponge wasn't a small bit of bubbling live culture for (yummy) sourdough bread that could be tucked away in a warm, dark corner of the kitchen to 'do its thing'.

This sponge, with each weekly addition of flour, sugar and water - begat another full-sized recipe of soft batter. There was enough in each batch for baking into one or more loaves of sweet white bread (tasty, but no big whoop). At the time, no one in our family could eat as much bread (not even with it being fresh-baked and slathered with soft creamery butter!) as this stuff yielded.

The major difference between the two 'feeders' is that the fruit concoction was contained in one large glass jar and feeding the bread resulted in an increasing number of bowls of fermenting bread dough all over the kitchen. The quantity of dough grew to such proportions that it threatened to take over the fridge/ kitchen/ adjoining rooms/ house.

Many a Domestic Diva in the 70's & 80's happily accepted a small baggy of this innocent-looking starter from like-minded bread baking friends without foreseeing the inevitable consequence, which was becoming slave to the mixture. Towards the end of its run in my kitchen, friends would turn tail when I offered them yet another little batch of this 'lovely bread starter'...

I finally rid myself of bread starter the same way I got out of the brandied fruit cycle: I quit feeding 'em and kill the damned things off. Sans guilt.

Back to the NaBloPoMo challenge.
I took it on as a personal goal, met it - and am now very happy indeed to see the back of it. Posting every dang day was too much like feeding brandied fruit and bread sponge. The commitment ended up being more of a drag than not.

Having successfully completed NaBloPoMo (arrrrgh, it's such an awkward acronym, isn't it?), I'm returning to the day (or two or more) breather between posts.

To be sure, I will once again enjoy writing the posts the way I did before NaBloPoMo.

BTW: HD suggested I 'refresh' my blogger create-a-post page, and doing that brought back the toolbar I thought was lost forever. Huzzah! for techno input from the otherwise very-low-tech HD!

That's odd...

...very Twilight Zone-ish.

I've just returned from a few days away.
When I tried to create a post, my 'create' page looks VERY DIFFERENT. As in
there-are-no-tools-to-add-links, pix, change font colors etc.

The entire toolbar thingy is gone.

There's no tab to switch views to html (not that I ever used this) and back.
Can't preview.
Nothing.

I don't get it.
Not understanding the terminology, I hesitate to ask blogger.

This sucks.

Hmmmm.
and
Arrrrgh.
(insert unsmiley face here)

update on my reading...

Confession #1:
I should be reading more (I have the same problem with exercising...need to do it more...).

I'm what you'd call a s-l-0-w reader. Very slow.

It took me awhile, but I'm finally done reading that book on color (mentioned in a previous posts...). Took it slow and easy, savoring a few pages a night before beddy-bye time.

For anyone who dabbles in color (and who doesn't, really?), there is much to learn from this mini but mighty tome about the source of pigments that make up our lives. Some of it is pretty crazy. You won't believe what the most brilliant red is made from!
[Ladies, you may be smearing bug guts on your lips every day]

Confession #2: I have an issue with not being able to retain much of what I read anymore - even after just reading it. However alarming that may sound, it doesn't prevent me from taking great pleasure in the act of reading. But the vicious cycle of reading and forgetting is so very frustrating, yet continues.

My new approach, as some of you already know (from reading b's blog) is re-reading a book right after finishing it. Of course, this doesn't apply to just any book. It has to be one I'm making a conscious effort to remember significant bits from. The color book qualifies for a re-read. But get this: when I'm done with the second go round, I'll start it again.Why? I'm banking on the possibility that with each repeat perusal, I just might retain more and more of the wealth of information within those pages.

Go on - grill me on color. In about 2 years. By then, I should have something of it etched into my gray matter.

After having just expressed a desire to read MORE, re-reading may seem counterproductive. Why keep with the same book when OMG, there are endless read-worthy titles out there to last a lifetime.
It is so true what 'they' say: so many good books, so little time...

Confession #3: Aside from the read and re-read approach, I haven't quite figured out how to remedy my read n' forget affliction.
Would doing a book report work? In the last few years, I did some extensive book reporting for college courses. The kind of analytical research that picks a book and its meaning apart only to put it back together again (and hope for the best). Comparing and contrasting until blue in the face and/or earning an A for the course. Even having experienced that intense degree of focus on a book, if pressed to recall my analysis, most of the time I still can't...

It's been said that discussing what you've just read with someone is a great way to process the essence of the material. Hence book groups. I'm in one, and it does help a wee bit - but not enough.

I love books.
I want to read more.
Moreover, I want to remember what I read.

Aicheemama!
To be young and to be able to remember things!

Quote of the day - and it's a good 'un

You can only be young once. But you can always be immature. - Dave Barry

Somehow, when it comes to humorists, I've always managed to overlook Dave Barry. (Was his start in sports-writing? If so, that would 'splain it...).
But that quote just hit home for me, so there may be something here after all.

Say - he even has a blog.

For more laffs on the subject of immaturity, go here.

20 minute Zzzzzzzz's

Check it out.
Pictured is a MetroNap pod.

For those of you who nap during the day (I don't - unless ill or had a sleep-deprived night before) and swear by the 10-20 minute refresher (AKA power) nap, here's something just for YOU.

You aren't home or anywhere near a comfy bed. There's no quiet place, available sofa or chair (there's such a risk of neck strain napping on most chairs, though). The ol' bod just can't take catching a few quick zzzzzz's on the carpeted floor anymore.
Say 'hello' to Metropod.

Though touted as an office aid to increase productivity in the workplace, I fancy its significance as a tool to help folks get on with the social interaction of their day - without getting grouchy or party-poopery. Tired grumpy people just ain't no fun to be with, don't you agree?

Have any of you ever seen a Metropod, or (gasp!) actually tried one out?
(BTW, have you ever used the spray-down-with-disinfectant-after -use public toilets?)
(this link is scatological to da max!)

Anyways. Back to Metropod:
What happens after 20 minutes (or whatever the timed nap is set for) is up?
Does a loud and very rude alarm go off? Seems counter-productive.
Does a sanitizing pod spray wash over the napper? Nap + a shower = two bits?
Do the disturbing sounds of the city/office/airport seep slowly back into the pod environment, thereby awakening the sleeper? Reality check!

Haha.
Haha is only 2 steps away from Uh-Oh:
I KNEW the pods would someday return to take over our bodies...

Fo' Real or Fo' Fake?

Are you for a Real Christmas tree or are you for a Fake Christmas tree?

We've always had real.
Whether chopped down on the farm or purchased from a lot, we've always been die-hard afficionados and true to the attributes of Real.

This is the first year that I've even considered the idea of a Fake.
For several reasons - the most significant being that I get so sad when the gorgeous looking and delightful smelling Realtree begins its slow but inevitable drying once inside the house (no matter how faithfully the tree stand gets filled with H2O). By the 26th, the extra-crispy tannenbaum only serves to add significantly to my Post-Christmas melancholy.

We live in the forest so I do not want for bringing nature in. All I have to do is glance through any uncurtained window for a view of pines or step out for a 360º of the evergreens.

A live tree to haul in-then-out again is not an option. Too many live bugs.

Cost is another factor. Real has gotten ridiculously-high-priced. Talk about use and discard!

I'm not even going to get into the whole dropped needles issue...

Just thinkin'. Just askin'. Just wonderin' aloud....
Hmmmmmmmmmm...

(BTW, re: cost: no tree on our 1.3 acre property is of the right size/type for cutting down and hauling in as a free-in-the-house Christmas tree)

NO library...

There is one county in California that has no library. I'm not even sure if any version of Bookmobile makes the rounds there.

Sierra County (north of Lake Tahoe) is rural, and no - that doesn't translate to folks who don't read. Over 3500 residents there are in need of a new venue to house books as well as offer community classroom space and a children's center. Even with $2.3 milion dollars raised for the plan, the county is still $500,000 short towards financing construction of such a center. With the coffers already depleted, Sierra County may or may not be able to raise the extra money. No money, no library center.

Following the online article are reader's comments: one reporting that another CA. county has just been financed to erect two new libraries in a city east of Sacramento (where there are already quite a few existing libraries). Cost for new construction: 16 million dollars. Not surprisingly, this is in a high-growth, affluent, residential area which is certainly not lacking for much of anything.
One county struggling to build their very first modest-sized library center (which, at this writing, may or may not happen) and another erecting one of palatial (possibly ostentatious?) proportions. Population and economic differences between the two counties is obvious, but when it comes to libraries, all are equal in their need for one, wouldn't you think?

Everyone should have access to the wealth of information that a public library makes available. A library is a building which houses borrowable books, certainly. Yet the building represents so much more...

When I was a kid, the Chinatown Branch Public Library (posted photo) was my home away from home. Located two and a half blocks from our flat, it was an easy walk, and I could be found there every day after school hanging out with friends and doing homework. An avid reader who didn't own any books of my own, the library was my sole source of reading material (other than my younger brother's comic book collection). I'd peruse the shelves and bring home a stack of books every week. Those would be finished within days, and I'd be back for more.

Even at that young age I realized that the public library was a special place offering unique gifts of knowledge and discovery. A virtual treasure trove of books - all free to borrow, to pore over, to learn from. Every title holds promise of an exciting adventure to new worlds and existences different from one's own. Within the confines of its four walls, the library provides countless opportunities for adventure, travel, fantasy, mystery. Books that prompt questions. Books that provide answers.

In its own quiet way, the library was then and still is - exciting. Comforting. Always welcoming.
Come in, sit down, read a book.
Stay awhile. Or awhile longer.
Take the book home to read. Just be sure to bring it back so someone else can have a turn.

I loved the sounds and smells of the Chinatown Branch Library: old books, new books, the warm mustiness of the central heating system. The heavy swoosh of the big double wood and glass doors as they swung open on smooth hinges. The 'snap' as card catalog drawers were pushed closed. The 'due back' date stamp as it was inked and pressed onto a card by the librarian, then inserted into the front pocket of the book. Creaky wooden furniture.

It was MY library. I owned those sounds and those smells.

Back then, librarians shushed .
I know it's an outdated stereotype, but geeez, I even miss the shushing.

Everyone should have a library of their own 'to own'. A place to make friends with books. Somewhere to escape to from the world and to find new worlds to escape into.

Sierra County is in need of someone who can do an 'Andrew Carnegie'. Will anyone in the 21st century step up to the philanthropist plate for a cause such as this?

Good Gravy!

Seriously.
The turkey gravy I made on T-Day was good.
Damn good.
I whipped up about a gallon of it and there’s still some left.

Tasty! Lovely color! Perfect consistency! No lumps! Smooooooooth as silk! Nothing gooey about it!

The difference must’a been in the making of the roux to thicken vs. going the cornstarch route. All that butter and flour slowly cooked into a bubbling froth before being added to the mix. Really, the gravy was exceptional, if I must say so myself.

I'll be glad when all the leftovers are gone.
Unfortunately, they won't be until I eat them up. Everything (except the pies) smothered with that Good Gravy (topped with a heaping helping of cranberry sauce).
I can forego additional helpings of dessert, but simply cannot pass up the savouries.
I know I won't stop until there isn’t a drop of Good Gravy left.

Thoughts turn to exercise:
How I need to.
How very good it is for me.
How I really do dread doing it.

Arrrgh. Good Gravy vs. A Healthier Heart, Toned Muscles and A Considerably Less Poochy Tummy.
How/when do I turn my thinking around to loathe the rich foods and love the exercise?!?
Hark! Do these sentiments signal an early start of the Guilt Season?
And here you thought it was the official beginning of the Shopping Season. Not so, at least not in my kitchen...

[The photo posted is from an online image source. My gravy never makes it into a little biddy gravy boat. It's scooped with a BIG ladle directly out of the HUGE stockpot I make it in...]

Black Friday

I live under the proverbial rock.

I didn't know until today that the big shopping day after T-Day is referred to as Black Friday. Frankly, because I make it a point not to go shopping the day after Thanksgiving, I don't give a dang.

The bargain hunter in me fully appreciates sharply discounted prices and incredible deals - especially on top quality merchandise, but I reserve the day-after-Thanksgiving for other things:

• enjoying a quiet, lazy and leisurely morning = followed by
• a restful day hanging out with
• family & friends
• eating leftover T-Day foods (this is one time when leftovers actually taste better to me than when the food is originally served)
  
• staying in comfy PJs or other super casual clothing ALL DAY LONG
• doing crafts, reading and watching movies on TV (no football for me, please)
• cozying with my down comforter and taking a nap (who, me?)
  
• maybe, just maybe - stepping out for some fresh air
• and to take in some natural scenery

I covet this package-deal of activities, and am happy to report that I managed all of the above today.
I would not actively seek to do otherwise the day after my favourite holiday of the year. No matter how incredible the Black Friday Advertising Hype about early morning bargain prices.

It really does suit me better to have an affirmation of life rather than
an affirmation of shopping.

To each his/her own.
Whatever you did today, I hope it was super fun, rewarding, soul-satisfying, Chirstmas shopping productive and/or fattening.

P.S. For those of you who don't recognize it, pictured is Uluru (Ayers Rock) in Australia.

Thank You...

I thank you for reading my blog.
Y'all have a great T-Day, now!

EqualTime

When zee Mama posts a pic of zee older DollinkDaughter in 'cute mode', zee Mama feels she ought to post a pic of zee younger DollinkDaughter in 'Cute mode' as well.
Post haste, if not before.

Finding cute pix of those two gals is never a challenge.
However, I was hard-pressed to find a 'crying' photo of DDJrS.
She actually - smiles a lot. At least she did as a young'un.

So here's DDJrS at age 3:
She'd just finished having a bit of a cry and was wiping her snotty nose off on the back of her hand.

Who said it first?

This has been bugging me for some time. Have avoided bringing it up (until now) - mainly because I don't want to be challenged or proven wrong in my steadfast belief about:
'Who said it first?'.

I'm thinking that years before Chandler Bing uttered this line on 'Friends', DollinkDaughter LLS said it waaaaaaaay earlier: back in 1977. Matter of fact, I remember her using that phrase quite often in those days - especially when upset with her DollinkMama.

Dancin' Dancin' Dancin'

Today: a prominent newspaper in India featured an article stating that dancing is a great exercise to ward off heart disease. Think: 'Monsoon Wedding' and you get the impression that many in India (at least in the Punjab region) aren't shy about tripping the light fantastic. (We Americans are much more uptight about shaking our booties).

Dance as exercise isn't news to those of us who have oft-heard the refrain: Dance = exercise = aerobic = muscle building - ALL IN ONE.

Music?
Has it got a beat, can you dance to it?
With music, or without, we've all got the rhythm inside of us, and nothin' should stop ya.

"We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance." ...
Japanese Proverb

To-Do list for this Monday and Tuesday

1. Finish sewing dining room curtains
2. Hang dining room curtains!
3. Find new home for my stack o' paintings.
4. Move old furniture and other piles of purged stuff out to garage.
5. Wash car.
6. Make Turkey Day to-do list.
7. Begin T-Day food prep.
8. Wash kitchen floor so it doesn't look quite so gross.
9. Scrub bathtubs and sinks.
10. Finish reading That Color Book.
11. Begin re-read of That Color Book.
12. Finish watching Netflix rented movies that have been here for over 3 weeks.
13. Send those Netflix movies back.
14. Pay bills before they're overdue.
15. Make Monday phone calls before Tuesday gets here!
16. Touch-up paint on Art-Craft Room walls.
17. Tidy desk/office space.
18. Vacumn AND Dust everything!
19. Return library books before they are overdue.
    
20. Get white Ikea (!!) dinner plates from garage and wash 'em for T-Day.
21. Make more to-do lists....

Hey, I don't want to have ALL the fun!
You make one too!

I'm so confused!

Heather? Barbie? Barbie? Heather?

But y'know, it's been a long day...

Quote of the day

Every increased possession loads us with new weariness. - John Ruskin

Such truth!

After yesterday's missive on Ikea Madness, this quote is especially meaningful. Many of us must admit to having shopped to excess at some point in our lives. Others can confess to keeping most everything we've ever acquired for a lot longer than we need to wish to or that our lives require.

We all understand what it means to feel bogged down with too much stuff ...

A bi-annual purge of one's possessions can alleviate the weariness a tad. Purging serves to lighten and brighten the home environment, cleanse the emotional palate and re-settle the soul.
That is, until the void is filled with more.
Oh that vicious cycle.

I IKEA. You IKEA. We all IKEA.

Saturday afternoon = Looks to be that when the weekend rolls round, many folks have it first and foremost in mind to head for the nearest Ikea. Never no mind the entertainment to be had at local parks, theaters, museums and seasonal fests. They even eschew outdoor recreation offered by the idyllic natural surroundings, on a gorgeous autumn day - to be - HERE.

That said, so did I.
Last weekend was the only opportunity HubbyDear was able to accompany me to Ikea, so we braved the crowds. I had anticipated a lot of people, but didn't expect to meet with the multitudes. After parking waaaaay out in the back 40 of the lot, HD and I boldly entered the store with a decided purpose: to seek out a small piece of furniture for the guest bedroom. We targeted the upstairs furniture displays, weaving in out between and amongst - individuals, couples, small groups and entire families (quite a few multi-generational). Some, but not all - were - shopping.

We encountered a horde of All-American Folk engaged in the Disneylandesque ambience of Weekend Ikea.
Grandparents sat comfortably on the moderne furniture patiently waiting for (and no doubt bemused by) their adult children, who hassled and haggled over home decor decisions. HD and I dodged strollers (filled with clothes and purses) left and right. The toddlers who weren't in their strollers were running amuck, playing with the toys in Ikea for Kids, lying on cute beds, dancing about around as well as on the colorful furniture. They begged for tasty treats from the Ikea Cafeteria (is the food area always next to the Kid Area? Smart planning in this regard, Ikea!). Grandparents, parents and kids all seemed to be having A GOOD TIME. Go figure.

Yet, in the midst of all the carnival-like gaiety, there seemed to be some semblance of order (perhaps I just create a mental order to survive such situations). Even a bit of good ol' American Consumerism.

Guided by the directional arrows on the floor, the crowd managed to move (not quite en masse, but one could detect a flow) like lemmings from department to department. As if on a self-guided Universal Studios Tour. (Yes yes, I says to myself - this is fine, really it is....all is good...HD and I will get through this...).

And so we did. Well, sorta. Just us and all the other local folk enjoying quality weekend hours at Ikea. It was something of a joyous scene, albeit a bit surreal.
Ikea is a STORE after all, innit?
Who knew it could be so - recreational?!?

Thursday evening = HD and I are back for a second look. We needed to see if what we thought we saw on Saturday was anything close to what we actually want/need. There was no chance for reasonable decision-making last weekend. As most of you know, it's tough to make the right choices under Chaotic Shopping Duress.

There were no crowds whatsoever. No jostling. Lots of room to browse. Shopping at leisure. IKEA associates poised, with a smile and at the ready to assist with every little thing. It was almost a luxury to be able to take time to examine the merchandise and seriously consider to buy or not to buy. No urge to indulge in shark feeding-frenzied buying. Much accomplished in far less time than on a weekend afternoon. BTW, we ended up with something altogether different from our weekend choices.

On such an Ikea shopping trip, you can even walk into the delightfully furnished rooms / apartment vignettes and pretend you live there without turning the corner and discovering a 'stranger' in 'your' bathroom. Last Saturday, 'strangers' were in all my fantasy cribs. Geez, you could probably take a wee nap in one of the beds and no one would notice for....quite a few minutes. You can walk round happily filling your HUGE YELLOW IKEA SHOPPING BAG with all manner of cool stuff and not bump into anything or anyone.

Best of all: No need to queue up for Swedish Meatballs.
Nice. I mean, really n-i-c-e.
Like I'm never doing Saturday Afternoon Ikea Again Nice.
[Or Sunday for that matter]

Book me R/T to Ikea for my next mini-getaway vacation, will ya?
Just make sure it ain't on a weekend.
Or during the upcoming holidays.
Or on an Ikea Grand Opening Day.

cats or ketch

UP.
America's favourite condiment?

First of all, is it cats or ketch?
Secondly, where did this tasty sauce originate?
Thirdly, have any of you ever made it from scratch (Oooooh - just look at all the different kinds!!!).
Fourthly (does anyone actually say 'fourthly?!?), what's the secret for getting it out of the bottle (regular bottle, not the squeezy type)?

Finally, if this Lois only knew who Clark really was, wouldn't she feel out of line reprimanding him for pouring cats/ketch-up all over his sirloin steak?

[And just where the heck is the World's Largest Ketchup Bottle anyway?]
[the WHAAAAT?!?]

and a-three and a-four...

Even better ~ is this scenario from 2nd Grade:
March 17, 1959.
Every kid in Room 5 at Jean Parker Elementary School wore an article of green colored clothing that day. Each of us had a huge paper shamrock pinned to the front of our outfit.

At the annual St. Patrick's Day school assembly, our 3rd grade teacher Mrs. Sparks had us sing this song:

'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling' (music published 1912)

When Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy,
All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling,
Sure, they steal your heart away.

As with 'Chinatown My Chinatown', we sang just the chorus.
Mrs. Sparks made it a point to instruct us all to pronounce 'smiling' as 'smoylin'.
I guess that was supposed to make us all appear MORE Irish or something.

My favourite line in the chorus: 'and when Irish eyes are smoylin, sure they steal your heart away' - which I always imagined to be 'and when Asian eyes are smyleeeng', sure they steal your heart away'...
In 1959 I was eight years old.

and a-one and a-two

Picture this:

Who: Room 8, Grade 1
What: Students sing
When: 1958
Where: Jean Parker Elementary School
San Francisco, California
Why: To entertain schoolmates and guests (family and friends) at a school assembly

CHINATOWN, MY CHINATOWN
1910 Words by William Jerome Music by Jean Schwartz

Verse 1
WHEN THE TOWN IS FAST A-SLEEP, AND IT'S MID-NIGHT IN THE SKY,
THAT'S THE TIME THE FES-TIVE CHINK STARTS TO WINK HIS OTH-ER EYE,
STARTS TO WINK HIS DREAM-Y EYE, LA-ZI-LY YOU'LL HEAR HIM SIGH.

Verse 2
STRANG-ERS TA-KING IN THE SIGHTS, PIG-TAILS FLY-ING HERE AND THERE.
SEE THAT BROK-EN WALL STREET SPORT, STILL THINKS HE'S A MIL-LION-AIRE.
STILL THINKS HE'S A MIL-LION-AIRE, PIPE DREAMS BAN-ISH EV-'RY CARE.

Chorus

CHI-NA-TOWN, MY CHI-NA-TOWN
WHERE THE LIGHTS ARE LOW,
HEARTS THAT KNOW NO OTH-ER LAND,
DRIFT-ING TO AND FRO.
DREAM-Y DREAM-Y CHI-NA-TOWN,
AL-MOND EYES OF BROWN,
HEARTS SEEMS LIGHT AND LIFE SEEMS BRIGHT,
IN DREAM-Y CHI-NA-TOWN

Mind you, we only sang the Chorus.

Was this cute, or was it slightly weird?
My teacher, Miss Rose M. Crowley - thought it was cute.
I was 7 years old, and I thought it was slightly weird.

painting

HubbyDear and I are re-painting one of our little bedrooms, the one designated as the art-craft room.
The results will be fabulous, pretty, very lovely.
Without a doubt, I will be happy when all is said and done, but the fact remains:
I HATE interior house painting.

Particularly since our walls are textured.
Anyone else have problems with getting good coverage on textured walls?

We've got the extra fuzzy rollers, which help a bit.
My painting tool of choice are the fuzzy pads. I use a little one and load it with paint. Then I muscle those little fibers into the nooks and crannies in an up and down movement, then criss and cross. It always looks well-covered, yet there remain those stubborn little specks of unpainted wall here and there. Needing touch-up.

Also, I HATE the MESS of interior house painting.
The constant clean-up of brushes (ugh!).
The dripping of paint on the floor and carpet.
The dropcloths getting paint dripped on them, then that paint gets on your clothes, shoes (or bare feet).
Then everywhere else (double ugh!)
Needing that second (or third!) coat.
'Cutting in'.
TAPING (triple ugh!).
Painting trim.
Brushmarks on trim.

UGH.
PTUI.

Having bitched and moaned about all this, the room will be delightful when finished. It's always that way after painting.
But the process still sucks.

Twist 'n' Treat

Great dog toy presented by a breed of dog who knows from treaties.

hi-def

Yesterday was a Hi-Def Day.

Whilst driving home from work, I oohed and ahhhhed (audibly and to myself) at the incredibly gorgeous scenery. If/when I ever move away from the woodland forest, these views are what I'll miss most.

Some of my favourite things about living in the foothills/mid-mountain region are

• the clarity and freshness of the air
• the abundance of evergreen and deciduous trees
• the high contrast of blue sky to green forest (when no forest fires!)
  
• the stunning scenic views at every turn (many down the cliffs to the river)
  
• (very little traffic on the road)
  

The colors I took in yesterday were brilliant: bright autumnal yellows, deep burgundy reds, citrus-y oranges. The rolling hills were softly golden, the trees offered every shade and tint of green and the cloudless sky was cerulean blue straight out of a paint tube. Contours around all these natural shapes were precision sharp, as if someone had turned up the contrast on nature's screen (or recently cleaned my windshield!). The vividness so intense it almost hurt my eyes.

I wondered (aloud again) if this was what things looked like on a Hi-Def TV (don't own one nor watch very often). However realistic an image that can be offered by high definition, it couldn't get better than this.

I didn't have my camera so couldn't pull over to take advantage of some great photo ops. But what need for a photograph when pictures rarely capture such indescribable on-the-spot panoramic views anyway?
Technology, no matter how advanced, cannot compare to the Real Thing.

So I savoured the idyllic pleasure of it all and etched the images into my brain for some long lasting and outstanding visual memories.

A great time of year indeed.

May I suggest that you too go out sooooooon to commune with Ma Nature. Be sure to take / make the time to capture some hi-def autumn visual memories of your own. Or let's get together for a field trip.

Trivia Thursday

(1) Not that it matters for anything, but...

(2) How I got to this, BTW - is from clicking around for an online image of Paul Newman on the December 2006 cover of Cowboys and Indians magazine (shades of Brokeback). Whooooo and Hoooooo! Get ye to the magazine stands!

(3) Coincidentally, the DVD of 'Cars' is now available for home rental/ purchase, and I'm heading over to Tarzhay today for my copy.

Pursuit-of-trivia question for today: Who provides the voice for 'Doc Hudson' in the movie and how tall is that actor? You never know if/when these questions will come up in the next edition...

No go 'CLUNK'

Contrary to common belief...

...religion and politics don't serve to unite people so much as divide them.
Not always, but often enough so it's hard to argue otherwise.

[It's ART and MUSIC that tend to bring people together].

Nevertheless, I hope you voted today (if not, there's a few minutes left...).

In the early days (San Francisco - early 1970's) I cast my ballot on voting machines that had levers to lift (or lower) for your choices and a big red handle like this to pull when you were done.
You could hear the voting machine go 'CLUNK' as it counted your vote.

I hope we all don't go 'CLUNK' before the night is over...

Playing at Playland

After commenting last week on a friend's blog where she wrote of sightseeing in San Francisco, I received an e-mail from her which included this link. She also sent another link that ultimately led me to posting this photo.

It's the The Fun House at San Francisco's Playland-at-the-Beach. As amusement parks go, Playland was no Disneyland, but it did serve to amuse for decades. Sadly, time moves on, neglected places fall into disrepair, real estate becomes more valuable, developers move in and both venues are no longer.

Just about every weekend, the family would load up in the Chevy and Dad would drive us to Playland and/or The SF Zoo and/or GG park. You have to understand that 'going for a ride' meant adventures outside of Chinatown, where we tootled around taking care of life's business every day. Needing an escape from the boredom of our routine (as if living anywhere in San Francisco could be considered humdrum), we were all for hopping in the car for a frolic in the outer reaches of Fogland.

Without fail, The Fun House could traumatize me with every visit: those moments of panic and confusion at the entry trying to figure my way through the mirror maze, followed by a dizzying squeeze between huge, spinning barrel sized drums made of fabric, only to make my way into the main room of The Fun House to find myself dodging erratic blasts of air that would shoot up from holes in the floor (aimed at gals wearing skirts, no less!). Having braved all of the above, my reward would be a climb to the top of, then a thrilling descent down - the longest and coolest wooden slide in the world.

Playland-at-the-Beach was also where I first experienced Skee Ball and bumper cars. It's the place where my young and impressionable taste buds were introduced to yummy beef enchiladas covered with zesty red sauce and savory chicken pies that featured a mouth-watering flaky buttery crust.

Another image which stands out as a distinctive memory is of an ornamental frieze above the exterior fronts of Playland restaurants and businesses. The frieze looked like a façade of doll-sized row houses, and were painted in bright colors. With their cottage style windows and doors, I liked to pretend they were the homes of the Seven Drawfs.

Though she and she alone represents all that was wild, crazy and demented about The Fun House, I waited till the end of this post to mention her: 'Laughing Sal'. It is her haunting heehaw laugh in that earlier sound byte. The image of her laughing is the stuff of a young child's nightmares, to be sure.

Those who visited Playland or the Cliff House between 1928-1972 can re-live their memories at this website. Or visit Amusing America and see something of the way it was back in the day.

Yes, I had fun times playing at Playland and The Fun House. Though I suspect the latter is also where my dislike of clowns began...

Not-so-lite entertainment

Perhaps one reason I welcomed the 'lite entertainment' of yesterday morning's 'Major League 3' was because last Friday night, I watched a not-so-lite movie.

There are as many, if not more, foreign-made movies on my Netflix as there are Top 40 style American blockbusters. Quite a few titles on my queue are Japanese. Most of those are classics.

'Ikiru': Read the synopsis here; reviews here and here. Released in 1952 (54 friggin' years ago!), the storyline is timeless as well as timely to contemporary lifestyles. The lead character is brilliantly acted by Takashi Shimura; the movie artfully directed by the legendary Akira Kurasawa (mentioned in an earlier post about 'Rashomon').

It's not enough to describe 'Ikiru' as a great film, but boyohboy is it a great film. As the story unfolds, one is drawn into the desperate, anguished state of mind of the protagonist, Kanji Watanabe. The slow pace of the film (attributable to Kurasawa's direction) appears to be a deliberate ploy to increase our (the viewer's) frustration as we desperately try to urge the movie on to a happy, or at least - satisfying ending.
Alas, we can't and the ending doesn't deliver with any such predictability.

Instead, invaluable life lessons to be learned here.
Sorry to give away anything of the ending, but for me, it did reek of futility at one level, hope at yet another.

Prepare yourself before screening this one.
It's from the glass half full or half empty genre.

One word movie review: heartwrenching.

good morning entertainment: quite L-I-T-E

Major League Three: Back to the Minors

This morn, I stumbled out of bed and into the living room, where HubbyDear was multi-tasking (!!!!): reading the newspaper and watching TV.

A movie was just starting on HBO. Initially, I didn't catch the title, but it starred Scott Bakula and Corbin Bernsen (whose relationship to Jeanne Cooper from 'The Young and the Restless' is his biggest claim to fame, as far as I'm concerned). Hmmmmm - baseball uniforms. Maybe I'll stay to watch a bit.
So I settled into my favourite chair to catch a few scenes before heading off to start my day. After a few minutes, my still-hazy morning mind became riveted to the story, the jokes - and THE BASEBALL.

HD left for work (yes, on a Saturday) and though my just outta bed goal was to grab a quick breakfast, shower and start what promised to be a very productive day, I ended up watching the whole movie. Truth be known, it was such a FUN flick that I was reluctant to leave my seat even for the two minutes it would take to rustle up a cuppa.

This was definitely morning entertainment of the LITE variety. Yet another feel-good All-American baseball movie with a predictable plot and fairly cliché characters. The kind of movie where you know everything is gonna turn out OK when there are designated good guys and bad guys, team players (united we stand) and nothing but a string of sunny cloudless days as a backdrop to it all.
Some LOL dialog in this one.
And what's not to like about Scott Bakula? SUCH a nice guy!

What really kept me watching was the fact that in the midst of fairly stereotypical characterizations, there were some (just a few) pleasant and welcome surprises. I give the filmmakers half a kudo for letting up (just a little) on the Hollywood Obvious.

One word movie review: Cute.

P.S. Bob Uecker was a hoot in this. I especially liked his change of outfits!

Talk about cooooool guys...

James Dean is pretty darned cool, but check out these guys. They don't even break a sweat.

oldies but goodies

Atop my morning webboard, I surfed upon some great wave (OK, surf analogy ends here) sources for 'oldies but goodies' streaming radio.
At this moment, I'm having a listen to WPON: Rare Oldies, and a silly Halloween song called 'The Blob' ('beware of the blob, it creeps and leaps and glides and slides across the floor...'). Never heard of it. Now Gene Pitney sings 'I wanna love my life away' 'Love love love - love my life away with you - Oooh Ooooh'.

Hmmmmm.
'Hooka tooka my so-da cracker? Does your mama chaw tabaccah?'

Lots of 50's to early 60's offerings there. Quite a variety, actually. Crazy and unusual stuff - a cover of 'Mellow Yellow' by 'Senator Bobby [Kennedy] & Senator [Everett] McKinley'.
Hmmmmmm again.

Think I'll head back to search for more of the mid-to-late-60's tunes that are set into the plaque of my old veins..songs which I know ALL THE WORDS to...or can at least fake pretty convincingly.

Hey, did ya know that 80's music (if you aren't able to link, try: www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOyGmBhUdBo) now falls into the 'oldies but goodies' category?
80's! Old?!?
Gosh, wasn't that just a few years - argggggh - it was 20-someodd years ago!
Geeeeeeeesh!
Aicheemama!
Ai ya!

The characters on 24th century StarTrek TNG would sometimes go back in holodeck time to 'The Ancient West' - that era which we in the 21st century know as 'The Wild West'. By the by, you'll never guess where their 'Ancient West' town was located...

The question remains - when does 'old' become 'ancient'?
If 80's is old, does that make 60's ancient?

Oy!
Ouch!
ROCK ON?

[surfing+oldies+streaming radio+yasgur's farm+ancient+star trek+oldwest+jimmy dean (+ sal mineo??!??!?)]
[this blogging broad is alllllll over da place!]

Happy day after Halloween!

Back (to Halloween) by popular demand (read: as per Jessamynit's request)...

DollinkDaughterLLS in The Hershey Kiss costume.
I always thought it a cool homemade costume - with the trailing paper (the 'wrapper opener') and a bit of brown satin at the top (it's the 'chocolate tip' of the Kiss). Still, DollinkDaughterJrS refers to this costume as the 'Spaceship'.

Pictured alongside The Kiss is aforementioned DollinkDaughterJrS as the Little Bathing Beauty (wearing 1800's style swimsuit - also homemade - dig the rickrack!). Photo in previous blogpost was from the Halloween before - when JrS had taken off the 'swimming cap'.

Happy Halloween!

MemoryLane: The Fur Coat

As many of you know, I was born and raised in San Francisco.
For the first 18 years, I lived with my family (6 count) in a flat on Mason Street (cross Pacific), 3 blocks up from Grant Avenue (aka Dupont Gai), and a world away from the hustle and bustle of shopping, restaurants and crowds in Chinatown. Just about every day, we'd venture down three steep hills (and back up again!) to C-Town for food and entertainment. Though we didn't reside right in the heart of it, we were pretty darn close to Chinatown proper (great photo gallery in this link!). (Mom & her Family of Origin did live in the heart, but that's another story for another day).

In the 50's/ 60's before it expanded its boundaries a bit, Grant Avenue was Chinatown. Bordered by Broadway on the north and Bush Street on the south, t'was my 'hood. For all intent and purposes, I be a dyed-in-the-wool 'Chinatown Kid'.

The 3-story, 6 unit building we lived in was built long before central heating. No steam heat radiators either. The two mini gas faux fireplaces didn't work. In the winter (come to think of it, all year round), it was often quite c-o-l-d in the house. Most of the time, the family gathered in the kitchen which was kept warm by all the home cooking. The rest of the flat could get downright chilly. This was when I learned to dress and undress under the bedcovers to stay warm!

Dad did manage to rig up a large portable gas burning heater in the center of our long hallway, and we'd huddle in front of it for a blast of heat each night before heading off to the cold of our bedrooms. Once we got good and toasty, we'd scurry off to jump right into bed where we did our best to retain the heat. Each cold night was a bit like winter camping...indoors.

Besides the gas heater offering warmth, there was - The Fur Coat.

It belonged to Mom though I don't recall her ever wearing it. She acquired it back in the day when furs were de rigueur for any well-dressed woman (who could afford one). Waaaay before animal protection and all that good stuff.
At any rate, I believe Mom inherited The Fur Coat from a friend or relative. It was a bit of hand-me-down luxury which she could not have afforded on her own, particularly at this time of her life.

I'd almost completely forgotten about The Fur Coat until I posted about Mom's Jell-O and got the MemoryLane-machine goin'. The Fur Coat holds a very special place in the chronicles/anecdotes of my 'Growing up San Francisco', so is definitely worth a mention...

Much like the one pictured, The Fur Coat was a 3/4 length number, made of squirrel pelts, reddish brown in color and lined in matching satin. I remember the fur being oh-so-minky soft. The thing was really quite beautiful. When The Fur Coat came into my life, it was as a bed covering rather than a garment. On those extra-chilly nights, my two brothers and I would fight over who got The Fur Coat as an extra blanket to snuggle under. Sometimes Mom would even get a chance to use it. On rare occasions, someone would wear it as a robe. How ironic to be living in an unheated rental flat on the outskirts of Chinatown, and wearing what was once a high fashion fur coat as a bathrobe.

My most vivid memory of The Fur Coat is a tactile one: I loved 'petting' it and found comfort in its silky softness. Our landlord forbid us tenants from keeping furry pets (though we did have goldfish, turtles and a canary or two).

No worries - because, hey, we had The Fur Coat.
It took care of so many needs.

There's always room for

dessert.
No matter how much we overindulge at a meal when dining out, we still pause a moment to consider something from the dessert menu.
Pie, layer cake, tiramisu, creme brulee, decadent chocolate brownies, cookies, Don Tot, Bananas Foster...
What about Jell-O? That simple concoction of sugar, water, gelatin and a wee bit of food coloring. It's still a viable dessert option for even the most satiated of post-meal tummies.
What a shame that Jell-O gets passed over for fancier desserts. Gosh, most of the time it isn't even offered.
Is Jell-O too simple? Too common? Too.....pedestrian? (I luv this word!)

Never no mind. I still like Jell-O.

Mom had the most unique way of prepping Jell-O. She'd do the one cup of boiling water over the sugar crystals, followed by a cup of cold. She stirred the mixture, but not too much. Mom didn't do this on purpose, she just wasn't the most thorough of stirrers...

After the required chill time in our old Frigidaire, the top 3/4 of Jell-O in the bowl would be nice and firm, yielding as expected on the palate. The bottom 1/4 was almost always rubbery. In that layer were also visible grains of crunchy sugar that went undissolved.

My brothers and I would complain and tease Mom about her results, but she'd continue making it her way. Referring to Mom's chewy crunchy Jell-O became a running joke in our family. Then - wouldn't you know, I really got to liking that thicker layer, and looked forward to finding it at the bottom of the bowl. It was the unusual texture that won me over. The special chewiness that made for a bite of Jell-O which lasted well beyond the average melt-in-the-mouth spoonful. In later years, I purposely tried to recreate 'Mom-style Jell-O'. More often than not, I over-stirred.

My all-time fave Jell-O dessert innovation was Jell-O 1-2-3. It was the first gourmet dessert I ever whipped up in my parents' kitchen. After spooning the frothy mixture into little glass dishes and stemware, I'd sneak a peek into the fridge as the 1-2-3 set up. Eating it, I would savor each of the pretty layers. The top was bouncy and foamy. The center creamy and smooth. The translucent bottom layer closest to unadulterated Jell-O. It saddens me that Jell-O 1-2-3 is no longer available. There is, however, a petition...

More recently, I discovered a 'recipe' on the web for orange-flavored Jell-O in scooped out orange halves. Sliced into wedges, these are so cute!

At the Jell-O website, you can check out the history of Jell-O, add the Jell-O museum to your 'must see' travel list, view the Jell-O ad campaigns; even try out a few dishes made from Jell-O. The site also provides main dish recipes (sans Jell-O). Guess what else? Jell-O arts and crafts!

I don't indulge as much now as I did in my youth, but I still get cravings for a l'il bowl of the sweet jiggly stuff. Alongside the dried Asian foodstuffs, bottles of extra-virgin olive oil and whole grains / legumes in my kitchen larder - I still stock a few boxes of Jell-O. At this writing I've got Lime and Orange (sugar free).

Jell-O ~ There's always room for it:

• use less water and Jell-O can be picked up and eaten with your fingers w/o any mess.

• it can become a 'salad' (no celery or walnuts please)

• as shots (no thanks).

• you can make a tub full and wrestle in it (some folks are into this, but I personally find Jell-O wrestling messy and downright wasteful)

So, is there Jell-O in your cupboard?