Elvira Madigan

There really was an Elvira Madigan.

I was 16 years old when I 'met her', by way of the 1967 Swedish movie of the same name; the title character played by Pia Degermark. Directed by Bo Widerberg.

When the film 'Elvira Madigan' played at my neighborhood theater, I went to see the evening showing several times that week: after school/dinner/ homework.
I recall sitting through it several times on a Saturday. Back then, one could pay the price of admission and just - well, never leave the theater all day. That weekend, I was in Elvira Madigan Heaven.

The movie also introduced me to Mozart's Piano Concerto #21 in C (K467).
The andante movement is played as the movie's theme - quite frequently - throughout the entire film. In truth, it really was repeated ad nauseam, but that mattered not to me, who found the music to be magical and mesmerizing. I wasted no time before running out to buy the Deutsche Grammophon phonograph recording by Geza Anda. That way, I could listen to it ad nauseam whenever the 'Elvira' spirit moved me.

That week in 1967, when 'Elvira Madigan' played at the Palace Movie Theater in San Francisco, I became completely and hopelessly smitten
with Elvira Madigan aka Hedvig...
with Sixten Sparre ...

... with dizzying romance ...

... and tragedy.

 ... I fell in love with the lilting andante of Piano Concerto No. 21, and wanted more more more Mozart ...

'Elvira Madigan' was also the film that revved up my interest in slow-moving, richly aesthetic, beautifully directed, undubbed foreign films ...
(with English subtitles).
I love this stuff. Eat it up for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Though I now include foreign films of many genres. Other than slow-moving and aesthetic.

Yet how very delicious was that first exposure to 'art house foreign film' - simply the best introduction.

Ahhhhhh.
Sweet, impressionable 16.
Believe it - once upon a time - that be me.

in praise of Sunnygrams

Sunnygrams.
Such a good thing.

Last year, we set Mom-in-Law up with a Sunnygram account. She has been receiving weekly, via snail mail - for real, hard-copy (yes, printed on paper!) newsletters. Each newsletter is filled with news and photos of - Mom-in-Law's family.

How to?
Those who are on her 'Sunnygram contact list' submit e-mails in her name to the Sunnygram company. Each week's submissions are then compiled by the Sunnygram service into a hard copy newsletter, which is then snail-mailed to M-I-L that same week. Newsletters are printed on heavy duty 8 1/2" x 11" paper, and have been anywhere from a page to five or more pages in length. Whether the newsletter is bulked up or skimpy fewer in pages depends entirely on how many e-mail submissions come in for the week. It also depends on the length of each one and how many photos are attached. Each newsletter entry is composed directly from the text and photos of the e-mails.

M-I-L doesn't have or use a computer. Nor does she wish to. Her preferred modes of communication with family have always been via in-person visits, phone calls or cards and letters sent through the postal service.

The reality is that before Sunnygram newsletters, Mom-In-Law wasn't always bombarded with regular communication from her brood, and would sometimes bemoan that fact. Sadly, she felt out of touch. Now, with weekly newsletter updates, M-I-L is more or less 'caught up' with family news/trivia. This makes for a very happy camper. No doubt she'd still love to get those visits, calls and cards --- but the newsletters serve as a nice bridge 'in between'.

The woman fairly raves about her newsletters. She eagerly awaits her weekly Sunnygram. If ever another positive testimonial was needed by the company...

For those of us on her Sunnygram 'senders list', it takes but a few seconds or minutes to create an e-mail note, with or without photos attached. Mom-in-Law appreciates long letters but one liners thrill her as well. She wants, very simply - to hear word. Thus, it behooves us senders to commit to a moment set aside each week to send a note. It really is as simple as sending a 'Twitter tweet' or a 'FB share'. Even the briefest word from those of us whose lives and schedules are so busy (much busier than M-I-L's is anymore) is important. It really does serve to brighten her days.

I bought a sturdy box, covered in a rich blue fabric, that, coincidentally, picks up the accent color of M-I-L's living and dining rooms (whooooohoooooo!). Gave it to her for Sunnygram storage. M-I-L's got those newsletters numbered and filed away in chronological order. Easily accessible. To read and re-read. Which she does.

When I go for a visit, I go through and read her Sunnygrams, so I too can find out what's up with the rest of the fam!

HUZZAH!
for
Sunnygrams!

it takes time

to write a blog post.

b's blog posts serve as reminders to myself of the minutiae which criss-crosses my addled brain at any given moment. Essentially, I write a blog post for ME.

At the same time, by publishing such nonsensical trivia to this site, the missives become my gift to blog readers who happen along now and again. Whether your visits are by accident (clicking on a Google'd link) and only a few seconds in length, with no possibility of return; or if you are a regular visitor, purposely stopping in to linger for a quick read of aforementioned snippets.

Perhaps the mental meanderings of 'b' helps to pass a few entertaining minutes online. You stop in and there might be something of worth. Like a laugh. Or a bit of music. A memorable image. Movie or book reviews to excite. Craft ideas to inspire. A discussion of food to activate the salivary glands. A curmudgeonly bone to pick.
At best, a pondering.

All well and good.

For anyone who is a 'regular', please know that if the interim between my postings seems lengthy, it is not due to disinterest of, neglect of, or a indication of complete abstinence from blogging. It is that I am contemplating subject matter for the next post. Gearing up for the next composition. Sleeping on it. Awaiting the muse.

Blog post writing is all too often easier said than done.

Blogging takes a considerable amount of time. It uses a great deal of mental energy (which I seem to have less and less of nowadays). Writing a blog post also requires a tremendous amount of editing (though these posts may not reflect that effort).

Bottom line, in order to produce a post I might consider worthy enough to publish, I work hard at it. Yes, even in this 'anything goes' format.

'Just so ya knows', it took over 45 minutes just to write this.

Later, gators.
People to see, things to do, cookies to eat.
xo

The Small Dinner Party

What's not to love about The Small Dinner Party?Especially when it is a little (don't panic now - just a tad) - formal in presentation.

The Small Dinner Party should not be an uptight affair. Never overdone. What it could/should be is just a bit more stylish than a crowd of people eating out of serving dishes, using paper plates/cups, plastic cutlery. Nothing at all wrong with that, mind you. It's still a party with good times to be had. It just ain't The Small Dinner Party.

For The Small Dinner Party, you bring out the good dishes, whether they be stoneware or china, lacquerware, glass or mix and match. Use drinking vessels that are a pleasure to hold. REAL cutlery. Serve indescribably tasty food. Refreshing drinks. It's taking the time to set up an honest meal and inviting a handful of good folk over to share it. A winning combination of all these factors can turn staging a dinner into a creative, memorable, delicious event.

The thoughtfully prepared dining experience can be every bit as enjoyable as sitting alone and eating KFC with your hands, straight out of the 'bucket'. More thrills than wiping the residual fried chicken grease from your mouth with those skimpy paper napkins. To be sure, The Small Dinner Party can be oodles more satisfying. I repeat: oodles.

Let's plan The Small Dinner Party, then.

Ingredients for The Small Dinner Party

Guests, 4 to 8 in number - it would be nice to dress up a bit for the occasion (as in no shoes, no shirt, no service!).

Everyone seated together at a dining table (eating while standing is for crowded art gallery openings or sporty tail gate parking lot parties).

The dining table is set with coordinated dishware (not necessarily matching or too terribly formal). It's a pleasure to spend time at a table decked out in color, sheen and texture.

Mood lighting (As I get older, I really appreciate being bathed in soft lighting).

Tasty fare, any style, so long as it is prepared with the freshest ingredients and 'plated' (in lovely/smart-looking/novel serving dishes) to tempt the senses even before the first mouthful of food reaches the palate.

Mood music (be it your fave rock tunes, jazzy jazz, classically classical or what have you), played not-too-loudly in the background - is optional.


At The Small Dinner Party, being mindful of a classy, fun or even a themed presentation is an important part of the overall enjoyment.

Other Small Dinner Party Must-Haves:
Stimulating conversation,
on a variety of topics (effortlessly and seamlessly incorporated into conversation throughout the evening), to enliven the group repartee.

Every guest feeling comfortable with participating in quick n' lively banter of ideas/anecdotes (those who 'monologue ad nauseum' are cordially NOT invited).

Active Listening (apart from appreciating the tastiness of the meal,
active listening is the responsibility of every guest at The Small Dinner Party). DO invite friends who are capable of balanced exchanges in conversation; who have at one time or other demonstrated the unique skill of integrating others into easy chitchat. The Ho-Hum Braggadocio, who speaks almost exclusively of him/her self, need not apply for invitation to The Small Dinner Party. He/she can stay home - alone - with that bucket of KFC.

Insight (conversing with others, there are always numerous opportunities to learn and discover).

Lots of good-natured laughter (for a good chuckle heals the heart and soul).

YES PLEASE and HUZZAH!
for
The Small Dinner Party.

Your invitation is in the mail.

With Heart from Paul

Now THAT, my dear - is a tattoo worth having!

Here's a crazy video of what happened...

knit-wit

There are lots of ways to approach the knitting of socks.
One approach is not to do it at all.

But that's not for me.
I love knitting socks. Once upon a time, I never thought I'd make such a statement, as sock
knitting is labor intensive.
Yet I find that it suits me.

I started with tiny knitting needles made of bamboo - 4 (sometimes 5) little sticks with points at both ends.
Skinny yarn.
A basic sock pattern.
I tend to stay with ribbed leg and instep designs. They fit nicely and knit up without too much bulk - or frustration. Socks that are entirely made up of stockinette stitch have a tendency to get stretchy and baggy. I like snuggy socks.

There are numerous ways to knit socks, and I intend to explore more of them from this point onward. I've completed almost 15 pair of hand-knit socks in the last few years, so it's time to branch out a bit. That doesn't necessarily mean that I will be adopting another approach more pleasing than the one I currently use, which is the 'classic approach' (see below). Just that the variations are out there and one may as well give 'em a try.

Matter of fact, I've already got the first sock of a little pair going on two circular needles for DollinkGranddaughterLB.

Starting another pair this week: 'toe-up'. After that - 'two toe up on circs'.

There's more. All good, to be sure.

I really enjoy the traditional old-fashioned/style/way, of using little porcupine aka toothpick sticks and thinnish fiber. The needle weight feels right in my hands, yarn dances onto each needle with a subtle smoothness and the gentle click click click is soothing to my soul. It's quite satisfying to watch a sock 'grow', row by row, from those teensy needles.

I knit and I knit and when I'm done, I have a pair of pretty new socks.
And I do get done.
And I do wear those socks.

This is probably my second or third blog post devoted to hand-knit socks. Since learning to knit in my early 20's, I've knit many other garments and accessories over the ensuing decades (egads, but I'm old), but return again and again to sock knitting for Pure Knit Satisfaction.

Go figure.

A knit-wit sock knitting tip:
I prefer a wool and nylon blend for hand-knit socks. Washable is nice, though I tend to hand-wash and line-dry my sock creations. Just because. All the new wools are non-itchy -- that is, the offending fibers that makes for itchy wool is not present in the yarn. Wool socks are soft and comfortable. Some sock yarn twists and/or splits when being knit on. It matters not whether the yarn is expensive or inexpensive. Much depends on a combination of factors: the knitter's hold on the needles, the needles themselves and the yarn. I've had pricey sock split and twist on me, and have knitted with cheaper sock yarn sans any break, split or twist incidents at all.


Pictured above is a recent sock completed; with the other awaiting a cast onto those little needles.
The yarn is a beautiful wool/nylon blend. A pricier sock yarn than what I usually use ($17.50 to knit a pair of socks). The color was right, so I bought it. Otherwise, I tend to use sock yarns that cost considerably less. 

If you knit, and haven't yet tackled sock-knitting, why not give it a go? There's no big secret to it, save for 'follow the directions'. If that holds no interest, find someone (other than me) who is willing to knit a pair for you. At the very least, someone who will let you try a pair on, so you can feel the difference - and wish - that you too - had a pair of hand-knitted socks.

11th hour blues

there are days when you just need some Dances with Wolves...

thank you, Alexandra

Earlier this week, I donated to Goodwill - 9 of the 11 Alexandra Stoddard books I own. Alexandra Stoddard is a designer and an inspirational life coach. She's written books - lots of them.
I purchased quite a few during the 1980's and have read all of them.
Voraciously.
Cover to cover.

Now I'm moving the books on, so that someone else might enjoy and learn from them.

Passing on the volumes was easier said than done, for Stoddard was, at one time -  my improve-your-life / make your-home-a-private-haven-as-well-as-welcoming-to-others guru / mentor/ inspirational maven.

I've incorporated a great deal of her philosophy on life/living as my own. Recently came across the books again on the shelves of my home library and leafed through them. Flashback - to happy memories of the period in my life when, from these books, came guidance for a life lived with grace and style. Suffice it to say that I got my money's worth with the books. Adopted, adapted, trying to stay with the program. Now it's time to pass the books along.

May I share with you some Stoddard wisdom as I interpret it...

To take pleasure in the rituals that make up one's daily routine. Those recurring acts we perform that define a rhythm to our everyday. A cup of tea, served in a lovely china cup and saucer (or coffee poured into a favourite mug). Fluffing the bed pillows. Taking the dog for a walk. Feeding the cat. Opening the mailbox and finding the gift of a card or letter sent to you by a friend. Preparing breakfast. Sitting down to eat it. Opening the blinds to consider the day's weather.  A hot shower. Listening to your favourite music whilst commuting to work. Shopping. Walking. Planning. Running errands. Sitting down. Taking your shoes off at the end of a long day.
Chopping vegetables with a sharp knife. Folding clean laundry. Taking the time to relive and enjoy a memory. Hugging. Laughing so hard that you cry. Doing the newspaper crossword puzzle. Taking a photograph. Making connections.

Stuff like that. And more.

Learning to treasure the little things that render a moment significant. Savoring the sensation of a taste, a texture, a sound.

To celebrate the joy of color - be it brilliant or subtle.

How to be true to oneself. To be radiant, yet modest.

To understand that silence can be golden. And classy.

Alexandra Stoddard emphasizes the importance of creating a home. A place that, more than anything - reflects the personality of its inhabitants. As a designer, she encourages development of the ability to take note of line, color and composition - at the same time, injecting personal meaning into one's home decor. No cookie cutter environment (copied from the pages of Architectural Digest) is as welcoming as a setting that is hand-picked and hand-made. The appeal of mismatch, whether made by conscious effort or accidental. No living, bedroom or dining room 'suits' for students of Stoddard. There really is an undeniable cozy factor that an eclectic decor can evoke, serving to cuddle one's own well-being. Eclectic can also convey a warm 'welcome' to guests.

Besides the art of personalizing one's life and environment, another thread runs throughout her many books - that communication is primary to living a good life with others.
I am reminded again and again of how important words (whether written or spoken) are as the tools to build, maintain and repair relationships. Just as active listening is key to keeping the portal of a friendship open, constant, accessible.

From the time when I began a study of her writings, I came to understand what it means to develop, maintain and grow a friendship. Also - how to be true to oneself by allowing some relationships to run a natural course, diminishing intensity on their own - gracefully. Not to fight the reality that some friendships are destined to fade. Not to be unafraid to put a deliberate end to interactions that prove toxic. To not waste time with poisoning our own greater life purpose with corrosive influences.

Stoddard, as a sensitive, caring individual, intimates how essential it is be a friend who pays attention.
To me, successful communication is a balanced exchange of ideas, thoughts and feelings. 

These, and other lessons are now incorporated into my everyday, and I still strive towards goals set by Alexandra Stoddard's writings. With the passing of more than two decades, the books I own are decidedly oh-so-dated in style - yet the core lessons remain.

So the time has come to clear those titles from the home library. To make room for more books with more lessons. Without a doubt, there will be confirmation of the same tenets.

A fond farewell, then - to my clutch of Stoddard books.
Save for two. This one and this one.

I let them go -
but not without a most appreciative -
' Thank you, Alexandra '

B-O-S-C-O

Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away, I loved Bosco.

Bosco is a chocolate flavored syrup most often added to milk to make: you guessed it: chocolate milk. Instantaneously. Like Nestle's Quik - only much much better. Bosco makes cold or hot milk palatable.
Bosco can also be drizzled (generously) over ice cream for a delectable chocolate sundae.

When I was a kid and gaga over Bosco, my fave way to enjoy it was to forego the glass of milk and pour it straight out of the bottle onto a teaspoon which went directly into my mouth. Oh yeah.

Bosco was a must-have staple in the kitchen of my childhood. Years after I grew up and left home, the syrup was still available on grocery stores shelves. As an adult, I continued the indulgence.

Then, suddenly, one day - Bosco - was - gone. It just up and disappeared off the grocery store shelves. In time, I had to wonder whether it was still being manufactured. For years, I searched in vain for the thick-walled brown Bosco bottle, with a shape and girth something like a laboratory beaker on steroids. That which contained the tasty chocolate syrup within. There were other chocolate flavorings in abundance, both powdered and syrup - but not a bottle of Bosco to be had anywhere.

Time passed, and I continued to hunt for Bosco.

Then the internet became a search tool, and things started to look more promising in unraveling the mystery of the disappearance of Bosco. The internet really IS the super highway, where one can zip along and see new and old things, come across fresh (and even spent) ideas and innovations. The web is a wondrous place to spend hours upon hours, paying attention and learning. The internet can also reunite us with old friends (a special plug for Facebook), places in the past where we once trod - and - food products we once coveted.

On the internet, I found Bosco.

But wait.
Years zip by.
Tastes change.
Palates become more, er, well - shall we say snobby - um, sophisticated.

Now that I am an aficionado of the very excellent cacao offerings of Sharffen Berger chocolate, will Bosco still offer that chocolate high of yesteryear? Or will what has always been the admittedly ersatz chocolate flavor of Bosco finally be fully detectable on my highly developed and discriminating taste buds?
We adults like to think our maturation in all areas of life as an 'upgrade' from the more primitive leanings of our childhood. Yet in too many instances, our grown-up tastes/views are not always an improvement over the kid perspective....

Hmmmmm... food preferences....
I've mentioned time and time again on this blog that in my childhood home, the family ate fresh, from scratch, home-cooked fare every day. Canned, frozen and pre-prepped packaged foods were bought on occasion and considered special treats. I once thought Kraft Mac n' Cheese was deliciouso. No longer. Swanson TV dinners and pot pies were often heated up for weekend lunches, or as an after school snack. To eat one today would find me recoiling at the grease, the high sodium content as well as taking note that any meat product contained therein would yield a suspiciously rubbery chew. The very idea of Chef Boy-R-Dee canned spaghetti grosses me out now. There was a time when I ate it every week. Older and wiser, it's clear to me now that Mrs. Paul's frozen fish sticks are an abomination.

The jury is still out on Bosco. Now that I can secure it, should I or should I not buy a bottle for my larder - at the very least, for old times' sake?

When I fully suspect that a spoonful of the heavy corn syrup brew, with the negligible taste of faux chocolate, might very well prompt - the gag reflex?
Do I still love Bosco?
Do I really want an answer to that question after all this time?

Eh.

For a listen to the Bosco commercial jingle, click here - then on the arrow by the Bosco bottle.

Schematic 18th century engraving of a cacao tree by Dominican priest Jean-Baptiste Labat

Gustave!

Gustave Caillebotte.

My first encounter with a painting by Gustave Caillebotte was decades ago, at an exhibit of French Impressionism in San Francisco. The entire show was amazing, but I was 'floored' (pun intended) by a large piece titled the 'Floor Scrapers' (there are at least two by this title, but it is this one that blew me away).

The painting isn't appealing in the fresh and colorful way of most impressionistic art, nor in any traditional sense of pictorial beauty. Rather, 'The Floor Scrapers' is rendered in monochromatic earth tones. The subject matter is not a landscape, floral or a still life of fruit. What is depicted is a small group of half-naked men busily scraping the old finish off a wood floor. Hardly romantic subject matter.

The imposing size of the painting (40" x 57 3/4") is in itself arresting. The view of their sinewy muscled bodies combined with the dim lighting of the room they are working in - requires one to pause and consider the unusual subject. Taking all that in with this one piece of art - 'got to me'. I was fortunate to see The Floor Scrapers several times again on subsequent visits to the Musee D'Orsay.

Other paintings by Caillebotte grab and hold my attention in the same way. I find it hard to tear myself away...

Gustave Caillebotte was not the most popular of artists to emerge from his era - he was largely overshadowed by the biggie names in French Impressionists: Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Cassatt, etc. - whose work he was such a devotee/ supporter. Their influence is evident in his painting, yet Caillebotte's style stands apart.

What appeals to me in Caillebotte's work are the unusual angles, and the way he poses his subjects - many of who stand with their backs to the viewer.  It took years for me to understand that I liken his perspective (in regards to capturing images for painting) - to my own approach to photographing people / places / things.

Once, on a solo trip to London - I (very unexpectedly) happened upon a rare find. The Royal Arts Academy was showing a small exhibit of just Caillebotte's work. Just Caillebotte? I had to attend - and spent a couple of happy hours there, lingering over each painting. One on one. Up close and personal.

For almost a decade, I traveled to the Art Institute of Chicago annually, often several times a year. As a self-professed Caillebotte-maniac, my trips to Chicago would always include a pilgrimage to the Art Institute - specifically to spend quality time with 'Paris Street, Rainy Day'.

For years, a Gustave Caillebotte monograph has been amongst my prize possessions. I treasure it.
Very recently, I found this website. The complete works!?!
Includes pieces I've not seen in a museum or books anywhere in the world.

Nice.

My love and fascination of 2-D art runs the gamut from traditional representational stuff to contemporary color blocks - and back again. For some time now, I go into throes of artful rapture at the sight of expressionistic sketchy minimalist brushstrokes. Views of art change, grow, slip back and forth and between so many movements.

Yet Gustave Caillebotte's solid images of Parisian urban life will always hold a sweet and tender place in my art appreciation heart.

pen to paper

Due to very special, positive vibrations in the universe, a couple Dollinks-O-Mine and I are on the same wavelength this week.
DollinkDaughterLLS blogged about IT on February 23rd.
DollinkFriendD sent me an e-mail about IT today.

What is IT?
IT, my friends, is -- Letter Writing.

Letter writing.
Where you take an actual pen to an actual piece of paper
to write greetings of hello and thoughts of the day and sharing newsy chitchat...
...with family.
...with friends.
Letters that you address to an individual, and mail off to that person's place of residence or post office box.

Not e-mails.
Not FB messages.
Not IM.
Not Twitters.


Remember back a bit - if you were so lucky - to when you would receive the occasional friendly and heartfelt letter. How finding one in your snail mailbox always seemed like such a gift. How your heart might get to racing in anticipation of its content. How delightful to hold a letter in your hands and read it - over and over again. The tactile experience of handling the paper. Pondering over the individuality of the handwriting. Perhaps even trying to visualize where your friend was when writing these words to YOU.

Pen-to-paper letter writing has become something of a Lost Art. Wow - that might be a bit of an understatement. Handwritten letters are fast becoming an outdated and antiquated form of communication. Face it, sending letters through the mail is downright slow. Who regularly hand writes letters anymore? Come to think of it, who gives stationery as a gift anymore? Ironic, isn't it - that both are less common acts than ever before and yet - to get a hand written letter is a 'simple something' that is still so prized.

Once upon a time, I wrote many a letter of the pen-to-paper variety.
I miss the act of writing and the ritual of prepping a letter to mail.
I miss the sense of accomplishment I feel when sending a letter.
Moreover, I miss receiving replies from those I exchange letters with.
Any heartfelt letter, more so, a hand written letter - is a gift of one's time. Precious commodity, time.

It must be said that I embrace the instantaneous communication of e-notes. I have professed to being the Queen of E-Mail. However, let it be known that I do miss the old-fashioned version of correspondence.

Just last weekend, I began a pen-to-paper letter (on lightweight 'overseas stationery', yet) to a friend in Japan. At one time, DollinkFriendItoSan and I exchanged written missives very regularly. Lengthy letters. That is, until we were both caught up with the electronic word as a speedier means. Somehow, though - between the two of us, the e-word has never been as satisfying a way to stay connected as snail mail letters. I suppose ItoSan and I are decidedly old school.

Last year, as he does every year, DollinkFriendItoSan sent a chatty hand-written note with his annual Christmas card. Typically, to reciprocate the holiday greeting, I write and mail to him a brief Happy New Year note. This year I decided to pen him a real LETTER, several pages in length, which will be (very ceremoniously) folded and sealed into an (airmail) envelope, affixed with the appropriate postage and sent out in a day or two.

Boyohboy, will DollinkFriendItoSan be surprised. And pleased.

Hope upon hope, he will write back to me.

Many many years ago, (has it really been over two decades?!?)  I sent away (yes, by snail mail) to The International Paper Company for printed copies of Garrison Keillor's article - 'How to write a personal letter'. I still have those two copies, kept in plastic page protectors to keep from getting creased and /or bent. These I keep in my desk of writing implements: blank cards, stationery, special pens and - get this - sealing wax and wax seals! Every once in a great while, I take out the article and read it through to remind myself of the importance of the hand-written word in personal correspondence. Modern technology makes it possible to share my romanticized, sentimental view of hand-written letters with you on this blog. 'Google' makes it possible for me to link you to  Garrison Keillor's article as well. Enjoy.

In praise of Dim Sum

It's high time for dim sum.

I'll be going with a friend later this week for a dim sum lunch - to celebrate the Lunar New Year 4708: Year of the Tiger. Both of us can hardly wait.

The proper approach to enjoying a meal of dim sum includes taking the time to pay attention to your fellow diner(s) by engaging in conversation.
No, not just the mmmmmmm and ahhhhhhhh whilst downing each tasty bite, but
participating in lively and leisurely chitchat.
A wee bit of witty repartee goes a long way to making the most of the special occasion of sharing a dim sum meal. DollinkFriendL and I will most certainly do just that.

My fam-of-origin referred to eating dim sum in a restaurant as 'yum cha'. The expression 'yum cha' means to 'drink tea'. Those two words alone evoke a meal taken in a deliberately slow manner. Sipping cup after cup (traditional Chinese tea cups are small) of tea while nibbling on bite-sized morsels of tasty fare is the right way to go about 'yum cha'. Pausing. Considering. Savoring.

I have fond memories of special times with just me and my Dad in the mid 1970's - when we'd frequently head into San Francisco Chinatown to a dim sum eatery for lunch. Our favorite places were the little hole-in-the-wall dim sum dives. Once settled at a table and ready to tuck into the first of many dim sum dishes, Dad would be sure to say 'Mon mon sik'. Translation: 'Eat slowly'.
His other meanings --- 'No rush. Take your time. Drink the tea. Relax. Talk a bit. Eat a bit.'

Dad and I would proceed to sit for a good long time, beckoning at the waitperson to bring over one or two dishes at a time of both savory and sweet tidbits. We poured tea for each other. Sipped slowly. Chatted. Laughed.
This was definitely quality Dad N' Daughter time.

Taking tea, partaking of dim sum and making sure there was plenty of convivial conversation to enrich the dining experience.

Dim sum etiquette?
You bet'cha.

Now let's go eat.

新年快乐

4708 

新年快乐

amigur-who?

Amigurumi.

Decided at the onset that I was NOT getting into this cutesy yarn play.
I've got quite enough in the way of ongoing fiber projects on knit/crochet needles not to bother, thank you very much.

Then, at the eleventh hour of the last holiday season, I found myself in the deep end of the arigurumi pool - by taking on the crocheting of not one, not two, but THREE 'Crobots' from this book. Amigurumi are made in pieces, which are SEWN together with yarn. One of the Crobots I made had about 14 separate crochet pieces, which needed to be individually stuffed with polyfil before being sewn together. After assembly of the pieces, Crobots need to be embellished. Big time.

Sorry, no pix to post, as I was playing the 11th hour 59th minute game - by putting finishing touches (sewing tiny beads, sequins, washers, screws, and affixing bendable wires) on the Crobots whilst a passenger in a car speeding towards San Francisco to a Christmas Eve party - which is where I gifted the three DollinkCrobots (they really did turn out to be very cute) to my DollinkSistahK.
Rumour has it that DSK enjoys them - thoroughly.

I chalked the experience as a 'been there, crochet'd that' bit of temporary insanity on my part. I mean, little crochet'd robotic thingys.
Now, really.

It's 2010 - a brand new year and a purposeful return to other creative pursuits.
Cleansing breath....

Then today, this little cutie stopped me in my tracks.

Once bitten, the amigurumi bug might be harder to shake off than I thought...
... time to get out the bug spray?
... or the crochet hooks?

ROARIN' good FUN

Check out the 'detachable counter' that accompanies Lion Brand online knitting patterns.
PDC (Pretty Darn Cute)

Just don't try to drag it off the computer screen...

twice in five months time...

.. and yes - it was wonderful.

oooooh aaaaahhhhhh

= youtube video.

Contract!

If you've only one proper contraction in your repertoire,
... make it

'you're'
instead of
'your'
for
'you are'.

the material world

When it comes to material things, I don't ask for much (well, not too much).
Lifestyle of choice for the time being is to live fairly simply.

That stated,
I do keep an ongoing list of practical or just-for-fun items that I would someday like to purchase/ acquire. Stuff like:
(1) a new vacuum cleaner - I would say that the old one we have 'sucks', but it does a rather poor job of that job. It's so rundown now that it is duct-taped together in parts, which is not altogether an attractive look, even for a vacuum cleaner.
(2) a modest sized flat screen hdtv TV set that will deliver a nice clear picture (to better view the nature documentaries that I favor watching. I also enjoy Disney Pixar, Jane Austen films and a few blockbuster action films on such screens).
(3) more books that I will ever live long enough to read through, because there are far too many wonderful titles available that deserve an attentive perusal - and life is, well - damned short.

HOWEVER.
Oh bother with 1, 2 or 3.
Let's talk clothing accessories.

My favourite clothing accessory at this writing is a lightweight 100% cashmere scarfy shawl thingy, which was gifted to me (because I'd requested it) several Christmases ago. It's from Nordstrom's, and is pretty much known within the Nordstrom shopper's circles as 'the Nordstrom's (tissue weight) cashmere wrap'.

At 20" wide x 80" long, this heavenly soft rectangle of cashmere fabric is such a versatile size.
It can be folded, pleated, twisted, knotted
and wrapped any number of times and every which way.
Is it a Scarf =  yes.
Is it a Shawl = yes.
Is it an In a Pinch Blankie Cover = yes.
Is it a Belt - (if my waist doesn't expand any larger) - yes.
Is it a Pretend Tent or
Lead the Puppy Leash to use in play with DollinkGrandDaughterLBPS = yes.

I heart LOVE this scarf.
I own one in cherry red (as in the photo) which is the color I had originally had on my holiday gift wishlist.
I adore wearing my cherry red wrap. I feel so sexy sleek and snazzy happy with it on.


So much so, that it was unwise for me to walk into a Nordstrom's store last week.
A bigger mistake for me to investigate the display of these scarves that I knew could be found in the women's accessories department.

Household finances are very tight right now.
The car is in the shop ($$$), there is a new house furnace/AC unit to be purchased ($$$$), medical bills to be paid ($$$$$). Probably more spa repair, home repair, decor redux, etc. etc. etc.

So - standing there at the accessories display, admiring and lovingly touching the rainbow colors of wraps - I was 'good' and refrained from impulsively making the purchase of another right then and there. Good Grievin' Gravy, I already own one, am very thrilled with having it, and wear the great sheath with giddy pleasure these cold winter days. I should be, and am - quite content.

But. Then. A wave of shark feeding frenzy came over me like nobody's business, and...

I.
Still.
Want.
One.
Of.
Every.
Color.
Available.
In.
This.
Scarf/ Shawl/ Wrap.

and I want them ALL.

NOW NOW NOW.

and
the wraps are currently on sale.

Ai Ai Aicheemama.

2010: it's time to paint

something.
anything.

as DollinkGranddaughterLBPS would say: 'For me'.

'... a dirty little book thief..'

Once in a great while, there appears a news article of trite importance to the world at large, yet adds a bit of contemplation to my day.

Here is one such article.
(Do listen to the audio as well)

It's 2010

I welcome a brand new year - with one of my favourite movie tunes...

objectified

I love a good documentary.

One word movie review: AHA!

Wanted: a Happy Holiday.

It has been over two and a half weeks since my last drink post (forgive me, AA devotees, for I only open by being lite with borrowed slogan - due to embarrassment for lengthy time between posts).

Dear Readers: I have been neglectful, and I do apologize.

I've been here.
But what have I been doing since that last blog post on the 4th?

I've been spending precious time these last weeks vacillating between getting into the holiday 'spirit' - or not. Trying to decide what holiday spirit is, after all. Is it as the media and marketing realm has been dictating to the masses with ever-increasing greed and success > that holiday spirit equates with shopping till dropping? That more is more and anything less is Scrooge? Recall the days of the popularity of the 'Unplug the Christmas Machine' book? I remember workshops of the same name when that title was first released (about 15 years ago). I'd like to think that the 'unplug' philosophy has made great strides in changing the face of the holidays. Maybe Yes, more likely No. I saw people in Costco buying big screen TVs for presents - that don't smack of any consumer downsizing in shopping habits to me.

The concept of unplugging the machine has recently made a resurgence under the guise of 'cutting back due to the economy'.  
This looks more to blaming the government rather than commercialism, but hey - if it means pointing a middle finger at increased woes caused by the previous admin, I ain't arguing. I look to the future for improvement, though it is a long rough road upon which we must trod before change and recovery becomes apparent.

Ooops, ahem....that be a segue...back to....ah...the holiday machine.
Those who believe in Christmas as a religious time - celebrate it as a season of their devotion and belief. Albeit, even the most solidly God-fearing American may still fall prey to full-on decking of the halls with over-the-top spending. After all...

My own materialistic tendency of holidays past has taken something of a back seat as I move forward towards the looming deadline of December 25th. Instead of making a list and checking it 100 times as to who-gets-what and how-much ---- I've been observing more about the holidays, giving serious thought to the various meanings of it, and making a conscious decision to scale back on the senseless shark-frenzy shopping for it. Sure 'nuff, bought some good stuff (mostly online) for 'the kids', but according to their wants and needs - as opposed to my whim. That was both easy and fun. A tight budget helped to prevent overspending.

I did halve my usual 'list'. Would rather spend time than money. Do the good people in my life want for time spent with me in lieu of a meaningless gift? Will I really get better mileage from re-acquainting myself with those on the obligatory lists - by sharing the gift of time well spent, the quality of an intellectual exchange or belly laughs yucked together?

Not giving in to the been there done that must keep doing it mode of 'making the holiday happen' translates to maximizing, rather than minimalizing - the concept of the commonality of man which is so often purported at this time of year. I actually believe that avoiding the malls and focusing on the people in my life moves me towards making valuable, reasonable and sincere connections with those who are healthy to my being. At the same time, I look to ease out of my life those who are toxic to it. What I wish to have in common with my fellow man, woman, child and animal friend --- is a propensity for joy, as opposed to want of possessions.

A few of my favourite holiday moments thus far (there will be more, I just know it):
- decorating, with DollinkFriendBBB - an evergreen tree growing on the side of our shared roadway. This sparkly tree to be enjoyed by all who drive by.
- going to the local city pond with DollinkDaughterJrs and DollinkGranddaughterLB, where we fed cracked corn to geese whilst exclaiming 'Happy Holidays!' with each toss of a handful of grain.
- the gift of a one-on-one reunion lunch with a fellow student/ acquaintance from high school - after 38 years of no contact.
- chowing down on fresh steamed crab with my DollinkFriendJ and eating desserts with DollinkFriendTtheP.
- heart-to-heart chats in the car with HubbyDear as we run errands.

All this says happy holiday to me.

Simple quiet joys.

It is the very thing that I wish for you.

Meryl Streep kicks

I was changing sheets on the bed this morn.
Flipping channels on the bedroom tv.
Whistling whilst I worked.

There on a movie channel was Meryl Streep in 'Mama Mia' - singing The Winner Takes it All.
I'm not an Abba fan, but this song, sung and acted out so dang well by Meryl Streep - could
not have been performed with more, well, let us say - gumption. The lady can sing AND act at the same time. Not so easy in that wild Greek island setting, with wind blowing hair and clothing and with an awkward Pierce Brosnan staring vacantly at her.
Meryl Streep kicks.

I went to another channel - and there she was again - in one of my fave
Streep flicks: 'The River Wild'. In it, she's buff, she paddles the rapids and yes, she kicks.
She kicks the crap out of Kevin Bacon's bad guy character.

Meryl Streep is the quintessential Kick Butt Actress.
If there was an Oscar equivalent: The Kick Butt Acting Award, she'd get it.



photo by Herb Ritts.

Stop the insanity!

No more shark's fin soup for you!

Over the years, I confess to having enjoyed many a bowl of shark's fin soup.
However, now that I am enlightened by this knowledge, I can easily forego the delicacy.

There is still Bird's Nest Soup to consider.
If it were not for the fact that I was raised on this stuff, the whole concept of using bird
spitooie to make soup would gross me out.
But it doesn't.

Not until someone tells me that bird's nest soup harms the birds, their young, or their species, I will continue to indulge...grotty as it is.

i heart PBS

OK, so this show might prove to be my next new tv addiction.

Frozen River

Just watched 'Frozen River' (2008).

The story takes place during the week before Christmas. As we are fast approaching the December holidays, it seems that viewing 'Frozen River' is timely.

We live in such a socially stratified country - of Haves, Have Nots and all those in-between. Not only is this evident in our everyday lives, it is accentuated at the year-end holidays, when expectations of self, as well as lot in life, are heightened, if not tested.

How sobering to think of those who already subsist on barely enough; whose lives are defined by missed, botched, few, or lack of - opportunities. It's not just about being able to succeed if one sets nose-to-grindstone. Much depends on whether those opportunities are available. It is assumed for some, a challenge for others, and seemingly - an impossibility for those in the lowest strata. That is when desperation becomes the mode of survival.

'Frozen River' is about survival, while struggling to remain humane.

Kudos to the writer/director Courtney Hunt, with a special nod to
Melissa Leo, whose work I was not previously familiar with.
Rio is Damn Fabulous in the role of 'Ray'.

One word movie review: REAL

Beam me up!

Look at what I just found on How StuffWorks:
'Top 10 Star Trek Technologies that Actually Came True'.

I am living the Star Trek fantasy whenever on video Skype or video iChat with my DollinkDaughters and DollinkGDaughter.

OK, beam me up!
(oh, that one isn't ready yet...)

A wee tale of DollinkDaughter Halloween costumes...

Once upon a time, when my DollinkDaughters were little, they really had fun at Halloween.
I think they still do, actually.

Back then, I also enjoyed Halloween.
Well, most everything about it anyway.
Trips to the pumpkin farm, buying candy, a little decorating, a lot of seasonal brouhaha - all good.
The one thing I never looked forward to with great anticipation was - the costumes. More specifically, how to create who or what it was that I, or my children - wanted to 'dress up as'. I looked on this task with what could be called Excited Dread.

As a kid growing up in San Francisco, my brothers and I didn't wear homemade costumes. Mom took us to 'Five and Dime' aka Woolworth's - so we could choose from the boxed costumes there. Just about all of those outfits featured a suffocating plastic face mask with elastic that stretched too tight around the back of your head - and an itchy glitter-shedding nylon apron pullover thingy which tied at the back of your neck. On this was printed your Halloween identity: a Disney princess, witch, ghost et cetera. Some of the boys costumes had matching long pants, also uncomfortable to wear. The masks were often scary, even when they weren't meant to be.

Even stated that way, wouldn't you know - I still delighted in wearing my storebought costume. After all, Halloween was really more about going out at night, more or less incognito - and scoring a bag full of free candy, right?

It didn't occur to me until I was older that the boxed costumes were cheesy. Homemade costumes were rare in Chinatown. Many of my friends had parents who worked all day (sometimes nights) in the neighborhood restaurants, sweat shops or down in the tall office buildings in the Financial District. Our folks were exhausted at the end of their workday, and just getting dinner on the table was all the energy that was left to them. No one I knew had a dad who came home to happily engage in his woodworking hobby or a mom who sewed after hours 'for fun'.

That being so, of course, when I had children of my own - you better believe that ALL their Halloween costumes HAD to be homemade. Being part of the next generation, we really did live life a bit easier than our parents had it. Less of a rigorous work schedule and more leisure time. Translation: My kid's costumes were Made by Me their Mama.

I eschewed ready-made sewing patterns for costume-making. Not sure why that was. OK, I confess to being something of a sewing snob when it came to Halloween costumes.
Looking back though, not using a costume pattern can be likened to shooting oneself in the foot before embarking on a 100 mile hike...

Consequently, for me, the process of conceptualizing and then creating Halloween costumes was something of a mystery every year. I never knew how it was going to come out until it came out. For me, costume-making was really something to be labored over.

I've come to the conclusion (only very recently) that this laboring-over-thing is my true creative process. Even now. Working and reworking something until it suits me, with no preliminary sketches to define the final product. Lovin' it -Hatin' it.

Like life isn't tough enough without having a plan before setting out to do something creative. Come to think of it - the working and reworking thing best describes my approach to life .... little to no long range planning...OMG.

But - I digress (don't you just hate when people go off on a tangent and come back with that catch phrase).

During the rather grueling creative process, it didn't help matters any when the DollinkDaughters would, a few days before the 31st -  change their minds about who or what they wanted to be. Fortunately, this didn't happen often - maybe it was the Evil Eye I shot their way if they even entertained the notion.
The YOU WILL BE WHO/WHAT YOU ORIGINALLY SAID YOU WANTED TO BE A MONTH AGO Evil Eye.

The plot thickens...
So I designed as I went along, stopping my kids in their homework or play time to hold fabric up to them for yet another measure and fit. Trimming, re-directing a collar or hem. Tightening with extra seams, pleats and darts or adding strips of fabric or trim for a looser fit. Plenty of pinning and unpinning. Tedious hand-sewing. For a kid's Halloween costume? You betcha.

I was quite tortured in the process. As I'm sure my DollinkDaughters were, though they never complained. Out loud, anyway.

Happy endings:
Typically, in the 11th hour, as a costume came together, I would begin to get Very Excited. All costume ingredients had been decided on, purchased, assembled, cut, sewn, glued, re-cut, re-fitted and finally pressed. Time to sit back and admire my handiwork (though there were always very uneven and untidy bits). The next day, the kids would get dressed and made up. They always looked sooooooo amazing. I dare say that they loved their Halloween costumes.

Great memories, those.

Here are two of the many homemade costumes the DollinkDaughters wore over the years. I'd scan and attach more if I wanted to be more show-offy about my costume-making ability as well as the cuteness of the Dollinks, but hey - you get the idea...

DollinkDaughterJrS as a devil (she called it 'Debo' in 1983.

If memory serves me (it doesn't always), JrS

liked this costume so much she wore it again the following Halloween.

 

DollinkDaughterLLS as Snow White (1981)

Below is a little scrap of paper

that LLS wrote describing her costume. Adorable.

Click on the 

scrap of paper to enlarge. 

It really is cute.

" This is Me on Halloween Dressed as Snow white and I Thought I was Pretty

I wore a cape a collar a ribbon a skirt and a blouse.

The make-up was eye shaeow blusher and lipstick "

look up!

James Turrell: 'Skyspace'

WANTED

This evening, I half-watched, half avoided - watching this movie.

CGI was over-the-top awesome.
Basic LifeIsCheap storyline.

Starring Morgan Ya-Gotta-Love-Him Freeman, Angelina What's-With-That-Lower-Lip Jolie and James Gosh-He-Sure-Is-Capable-of-Varied-Acting-Roles McAvoy.

... One word movie review: RUDE!

(According to your personal 

movie preferences, 

you can take this review in a 

bad or not so bad way)

When is a bagel not a bagel?

When IS a bagel not a bagel?
When it is reduced to being a bagel that is simply a slightly-heavier-than-white-bread-dough shaped into a humongous-bagel-looking-round. Almost all bagels from the local grocery store and so-called 'bagel eateries' fall under this description. Most of these bagels are, at best - insipid. Donut shaped breads are donut shaped breads, and not necessarily bagels.

Regular readers of b's blog know that boring food does not impress me.
Rather, boring food depresses me.
When it comes to eating - I maintain that fresh is important, tasty is best and dishes that are deemed 'pretty darned authentic' truly reign.

And so - back to the humble bagel. I don't know from bagels the way many folks do, but I know what I like and have a wee idea of how they're supposed to be...

A good while back, the bagel went mainstream. Since then, a good bagel is getting hard to find. It's been screwed with.

Bagel ingredients are few.
Cooking method is straightforward.
Resulting texture should be satisfying: toothsomely crunchy at the onset and tender yet dense as you work your way further. Delicate in taste and flavor.

It's not nice to mess around with the ingredients. Is malt still included? Even worse to shortcut the basic method of preparation. I suspect ersatz bagels are not given a hot water bath prior to being baked - authentic bagels take a nice hot soak. This is a vital step in the bagel-making process. Lesser bagels are often steamed to get water onto the surface. Not good enough. A good bagel should have something of a crust. It has been said, and I do believe - that bagels need the bath to achieve Perfect Crust Nirvana.

You know the diff if you've had a real 'New York style' bagel.
I've eaten some good 'uns, which is why I have high expectations.

Waaaaay Back in the 90's, on numerous business/ pleasure trips to NYC, I'd buy a couple dozen bagels from a local deli: Plain, rye, pumpernickel, garlic, onion, poppy seed, sesame seed and my personal fave: salted. One or two were for eating on the spot, the rest were to take back to CA.

These I would (very carefully and with a great deal of love) triple pack in plastic bags and fit into my suitcase (like a breadish jigsaw puzzle) for transport home. Due to close proximity (even with layers of plastic wrap betwixt and between) with the food, my travel togs would invariably take on the heady scent of freshly made, generously flavored bagels.

Smelly clothes for great bagels. It was a trade-off.

Once home, I shared my bagel booty with family and friends (one set of neighbors always eagerly awaited my return from a trip to their native New York). The chewy sour-y bite of each coveted bagel would be well worth the small sacrifice of needing to air out some strongly onion-scented clothes.

Compared to those New York bagels, anything less is lackluster to the palate. Leaves one begging for better.

These days, I am resigned to buying and eating bagels that are 'less than'. My lesser bagels of choice are the multi-seeded pre-packaged ones from Safeway. Toasted. If I happen upon a batch that is generously sprinkled with caraway and poppy seeds, it helps with the illusion.

Perhaps I could start baking my own....like others have so successfully.
Hmmmmm. Doable.

Baking bread is fun.
I ...
... enjoy gathering the ingredients.
... never fail to be intrigued by the alchemy of mixing yeast, warm water and sugar.
... love kneading bread dough with practiced hands.
... delight in turning the mixture into my huge McCoy bread bowl (a wedding present
from 38 years ago); gently covering it with a dishtowel and placing the bowl in a cozy spot for the dough to rise.
... want to be the one to punch down the doubled up dough after the first rising.
... happily ball up the yeasty mix for a second rising.
... feel homey when setting it to bake in the oven.
... savor the anticipation that comes with the last fragrant moments of baking (a few peeks into the oven is allowed).

Seems to me that bread machines take away from the earthy satisfaction of home-bread-making - the wonder, the pleasure and yes - the sensuousness - of the process, So no bread machines for me. A bit of muscle and a lot of patience does yield the superior product.


There is one major problem with me and home-baked breads. I eat more than my fair share of the results. 'Fresh out of the oven' is my dietary downfall.

Homemade bagels - do I possess the will power not to over consume?
Is it possible to make 'em and store 'em and pace myself with the eating of 'em?

We shall see.
We shall bake.
We shall report findings.

P.S.
The question of real bagels leads me straightaway to the
'when is yogurt not yogurt?'** question.
Yet another topic for another curmudgeonly moment relating to food.
Of which I have many.

** Purge regret - I should never have gotten rid of my Salton Yogurt Maker.

YouTube bagel video by poopshadow.

cloggin'

Finally, after years and years of coveting DollinkDaughterL's pair of Dansko clogs,
I finally got a pair of my very own:

I've been a wearer of clogs since the early 1970's, when I worked at a fancy shoe store* at Ghirardelli (say 'Gear-ah-delli') Square in San Francisco. My first pair were wooden soled, upper in brown suede, with a wide strap and buckle across the instep. Hiking up and down SF hills, I wore those things clear to the ground. My next pair were even more stylish - with wood soles, red leather uppers, and whoooohoooo - squared off toes. Footwear fashionista!

At the same time, DollinkFriend and fellow co-worker L had a pair of clogs with fur-covered uppers. Now those were WILD. During idle moments at the store, we would pet her shoes.

Clogs continued to be part of my shoe wardrobe over the next decades. I can't imagine
not having at least one pair, though in recent years, my selection of clogs has been rather unsatisfactory. They've been clog-type shoes, rather than the real deal.

This is my first pair of real deal clogs fashioned with full backs. Should be fun.

I heart these Dansko clogs.

* working this job, I learned to appreciate fine leather shoes and handbags. With my employee discount, I kept the family in fine leather footwear. Back then my clothes wardrobe sucked, but shoe and bag collection was awesome.

free as a bird / real love

A.W.O.L.

now BACK by popular demand!
my banner header that is.
wonder where she went off to?
banner-napped by blogger?
happy to have her back i am i am.

Gone!

egads!
my blog header/banner has disappeared!
at least it is gone from my firefox and safari pages.
should i wait awhile and see if the header (with teapot morphing into turtle) reappears (due to a problem with blogger) or should i go hunting around for the darn thing?
or give it up for dead and try to create a new header/banner?
(i liked the old one real well and for another odd reason, it no longer exists in my files)
dang!
!@?&^%$#!@?#@!#$!!

Ears off to ya, Roy

'Here's your ears' sing a chorus of Mouseketeers to a special guest on Tuesday Guest Star Day (Mickey Mouse Club, circa 1950's). The Mousketeers then bestow upon the VIP a pair of glittery sparkly Mickey Mouse ears. Not standard issue, but pretty wowiezowie. After being crowned with the sparkly ears, that person then became an Honorary Mouseketeer. Nifty.

In the 50's, like most American kids my age, I watched the Mickey Mouse Club on TV every day after school. Wanted a pair of Mouse Ears just like the Mouseketeers wore.
Back then, it took going to Disneyland to secure a pair. But our family never took such vacations. Finances dictated we stay close to home. I don't even recall my parents ever having vacation days from their working class jobs. As a kid, I wasn't empathetic to our lot; rather, resigned - to living out my childhood without a pair of Mickey ears. Brat.


Finally, in 1971, as an adult (married, before kids), my first trip to Disneyland. Once inside the gates - a stop at the nearest hat shop on Main Street. There they were: the Mickey Mouse ears. Lots of 'em. It was as if I suddenly became 8 years old again. The ensuing adrenaline rush assured me that in this magical place, there was a pair of MM ears just for me.

It makes for a better story to say that I got a Mickey Mouse ears hat on that first trip to Disneyland. In reality, it might have been on a subsequent visit...
Eventually, it happened. A pair of Mickey ears, in classic black - with my name embroidered on the back in yellow thread. I felt like an Honorary Mouseketeer.

image from http://www.disneystore.com

Roy Williams is credited with the creation of the world-famous Mickey ears-hat. It seems that Williams was inspired by this early Mickey Mouse cartoon in which Mickey tips the top of his head (his ears) to Minnie @ 3:10:

Williams' bio reads that in 1930, he was an artist and storyman for the Disney Studios. Those of us who grew up watching the original Mickey Mouse Club show may remember him as the 'big Mouseketeer' or 'Mooseketeer'. AKA 'Uncle Roy'.

Roy Williams' artful contributions to our favourite classic Disney stories deserves kudos. Then there is this business about the MM ears hat.

For his part in Disney history, we thank Uncle Roy for the memories.

Let us tip our Mouse ears to him.

BFF

b & Brenda Dayne = Best Friends Forever.

Well, virtual friends anyway.

A few years ago, after a very long hiatus - I returned to - knitting.
Hold on hold on - don't click away just yet. This post is not so much about knitting as it is about connecting.
To people. To places. To things.

The stuff of living - for the finer nuances of the act and society of knitting does, indeed, reflect the art and science of life.
Or so it has been said by many a rabid chronically needle and yarn wielding knitter.
Including my virtual BFF, Brenda Dayne.

For the past couple of years, I've been listening (typically with an ongoing knit project in hand) to a number of knit-related podcasts. By far, Brenda Dayne's Cast-On is my absolute favourite. All other knit podcasts pale to a pasty pallor in comparison.

To me, the Cast-On podcast is, above all else - soothing.
It is instructional. It is entertaining. It is thought-provoking.
Colorful. Witty.
The music played on it is (new-to-me and) engaging.

To be sure, Brenda does speak on the art/craft of knitting. The woman knows her fiber art. At the same time, she expounds on lovely rituals of her daily routine, punctuated by new life discoveries made along the way. Much ado about knitting, but not restricted to it. Via the podcast, she shares these ruminations with her listeners.

She's very cool.

Have a listen.

Make a new BFF.