Gumdrop Lights

My trek to Christmas is often a two-pointed jaunt. First to the Ritchies, then home. It is the best way to make the journey. We made a string of gumdrop lights. Amy's theme was Vintage Christmas and she had a candy-themed tree. I took my strings of gumdrops down last night.

I watched this movie for the first time and made these for the first time. We hosted a Christmas tea for Taylor and Rachel Ritchie. They chose their own tea cups. We served sandwiches, Lindt truffles, Shirley Temples, cocoa, and a high number of bowls of goodies. I got a French nativity. A yoga top from someone; yoga pants from another. I love to give gifts. I feel mother embraced each gift I got for Father to give her. She also loved the sewing case and we have put it together together for her sampler class beginning in January. My sister is very easy to shop for. Today I'm presenting a crocheted fabric rug to Donn and Nancy. They arrive after Christmas. Amy wrapped my gifted treasures in fabric ties. Jeff sent the second half of my birthday gift: fabric for a quilt and a pattern.

As is our new habit, we host Christmas Eve and then go to Robin's for Christmas day around 10 am. The more Christmases the better; I'm sure you agree. We settled on brisket (Brian's request as it rhymes with biscuit). We used Jo-Jo's as the dessert base but I felt the word too willy-nilly for the menu. 

Christmas Eve Menu

Tomato Bisque with Toasts

Oven-Simmered Beef Brisket

Gratin Dauphinois

Simple Greens

Peppermint Oreo Dessert with Hot Fudge Sauce

Cookie Cutters

image from www.marthastewart.com

I am not into sugar cookies. I am drawn to their fanciful shapes and even more fanciful icing. They belong on the cover of magazines. Most often sugar cookies are tasteless, floury, and the frosting is too sweet. I take a bite and leave it. Plus, I avoid making roll-out cookies. My sister is my polar opposite in the sugar cookie arena. She loves to eat and make them. I don't know where she came from. She is constantly making new sugar cookie recipes. There have been one or two cookies I like enough to eat; I like the sugar cookies from Milton's. Often they are in the shape of dolphins.

I found this recipe earlier this week and was swayed by fresh nutmeg and the old-fashioned title. These women didn't mess around with fragile dough. I was encouraged and had a small amount of sour cream in the fridge from our chili night. It was a go. I made the dough and popped it in the fridge until today. This afternoon I rolled out without qualm and baked to good effect. I forgot to sprinkle them (my wrapped gifts have no bows or ribbons either.) The cookies are very nice. A good sugar cookie dough. Now, I will move onto frosting . . . .

A St. Nicholas Day Report

illustration by Norman Rockwell

Brian carried the Christmas CD charge for many years. Last year, I offered to relieve him since 2010 was quite a year-end for the fam. This year, mother chose other neighborhood gifties but I made another music CD for my friends. Last year's was highly inspired by Marta's merry mix. I even used her instrux to made CD cases. This year, I exercised self-sufficiency skills and here is my list.

1. in the bleak midwinter • erin bode
2. what are you doing new year's eve? • the carpenters
3. what child is this? (greensleeves) • sarah mclachlan
4. god rest ye merry gentlemen/o come emmanuel (feat. colette butler) • callie moore
5. it's beginning to look a lot like christmas • perry como and the fontane sisters
6. the christmas waltz • she and him
7. white christmas • bing crosby
8. carol of the bells • the bird and the bee
9. the heartache can wait • brandi carlile
10. o holy night • nat king cole
11. the christmas song • catherine feeny
12. we wish you a merry christmas • the brady bunch
13. auld lang syne • james taylor
14. the wexford carol • yo-yo ma, alison krauss, natalie macmaster

It is heavy on the plaintiff girl with a guitar. What can I say?

Shot of the Day

On my list of top male actors is Daniel Day-Lewis. He has earned my respect. He is an actor, not a celebrity. British, a cut above, and he played Newland Archer. This image was snapped at luncheon on the set of Spielberg's new Lincoln film. Daniel is playing A. Lincoln. Maira Kalman will have something to say about this. She might start a new embroidery. The iced tea, the tables linens, the black turtleneck.

Online: A Few Friends

Like you, I have a lot of favorite sites bookmarked. I have a list of sewing sites and a list of cooking sites. A list of books, news, and libraries. But there are a few sites I read really often. And they are writing sites. Through a string of consistent clicks, I learn I have an affinity and a connection to these people I've never met. Their writing is moving and they have a distinct voice. Their own.

Marta is a happy person who is a graphic designer. She is married with a small boy. She enjoys life and is a good photographer. Her blog is a mix of design, home decorating, style, family time, and recipes. She is best at introspective writing.

Jenna is a designer too. She is married and lives in NYC with her husband (a baker) and their two young girls. She is an excellent photographer. She is about my age though we don't have much in common on paper. Her voice is contemplative and soulful. In real life, she might be perceived as blasée or quiet. I don't think she smiles much. She is perhaps my favorite online writer.

Alicia is a sewer. Her home design is a picture. And, her photographs are beautiful. She lives with her husband in Oregon. I recently became aware of how connected I was when she told of her preparations to prepare to adopt a baby girl and I cried reading every post. I thought what ideal parents they would be. Today she published the latest. It did not go through. She is a lovely person who cares about beauty.

I Simply Remember My Favorite Things

The Painted Veil is a romantic drama I saw first at the Flower Hill Mall theatre, may it rest in peace. I've since watched it at least three times. It is one of my favorite films. Today I downloaded the soundtrack. You see, I was taken with the music. It featured Erik Satie's Gnossiennes and as such, confirmed my devotion. I became aware of Satie when I served a mission in France. I have photocopies of his sheet music. And hearing it is like hearing something that is already inside you. I do require beauty from films.

Dinner and a Cooky

We planned to have a cookie night, based on our cake night, but wiser. We wouldn't need to dispose of 8 whole cakes. So, we planned cookies and dinner about 5 months ago. The weekend passed and with it, a wholly enjoyable dinner party and cookie presentation. The highlight in cookies were Aimee's pumpkin cookies with brown-butter icing. Would you like to try one of her rolls? She rocked the baked goods.

Michelle, a non-cook open to possibilities, presented a taste of her motherland: old German honey cookies. Not too sweet, history in the mouth. Both cookies were spiced, but so nicely one could not identify individual flavors. It was thrilling. I made Alice Medrich's buckwheat butter cookies with cocoa nibs and oatmeal, coconut, and cranberry cookies. The first turned out nicely, the second were flat flat flat. I pretended they did not exist, averting my knowing eyes. For dinner we enjoyed the rolls, soupe au pistou, and cucumber salad.

Topics of conversation: oiling wood, cold cereal, the zoo (and dogs therein), barbeque, baby peacocks, pesto, France, salt, Canadians, Thanksgiving, piping, Baking Illustrated, sudden death, cupboard space, making people wait, pearls for swine, holiday traditions.

Reciting Lines

Mother played Parade of the Midgets by Elizabeth L. Hopson. Robin recorded it and played it back for her. She didn't realized the length of her pauses. Bo participated in his premier recital with Old MacDonald's Farm, an old folk tune. He announced his name and the piece with aplomb. He did not play the last line of his piece. He was done and brevity is nothing to sneeze at. Both bowed after their performances in the Tabernacle though I thought a curtsy from Mother would have served well.

this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

Have you seen a more interesting bride? Her necklace is perfection. I didn't photograph the whole, a regret. The ceremony was composed of readings, vows, and a union symbol (purified water from the Ganges from the groom and Santaquin well water from the bride, mixed and poured for both to drink). Readings of scope and virtue: John Muir, Thoreau, Abbey, Wendell Barry, Mary Oliver, Rumi, Stegner, the Book of Mormon, and Sherman Alexie. I was asked to recite E. E. Cummings. It was a pleasure to try to learn it by heart. The location was remote, the road wild, and the company natural. My niece and I delighted in hula hoops, corn on the cob, and the satisfying accomplishment of using primitive facilities in the outdoors. I reunioned with Ned from college (he recited Wendell Barry). A wedding for the ages.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

A Penny for Your Thoughts, A Nickel for a Kiss

Up in the Sky by Majali

I once went on vacation by myself to Santa Fe, New Mexico. I went to Santa Fe to eat Frito Pie at the Woolworth's. The Woolworth's had closed down. I remembered this today as I happened on this recipe. The original was served in the Frito bag at the lunch counter.

I have a weakness for lunch counters.

My mother has hooked Nancy on Fritos this year. At the cabin, Donn and Nancy celebrated with champagne and Fritos by the creek before their anniversary dinner.

I sent mother a birthday package to New Jersey at the first of July. When her tour itinerary changed, the package remained. The package has yet to wend its way to mother. The package contains, among sundries, Fritos.

Since attending Christine's wedding reception, I am always looking for a delicious garlic bread recipe.

Often when looking for a good recipe, I consult The Silver Palate Cookbook. I am still looking for garlic bread.

Amy sometimes recalls the Smokehouse garlic cheese bread. When googled, the recipe calls for a packet of Kraft mac and cheese powder.

One of my favorite foods is olives. Not surprisingly, I love tapenade. The best tuna sandwich you will ever eat is at Waters. It is the albacore salad sandwich with tapenade and arugula on herb focaccia. I would be lying if I denied it is one of my favorite foods ever. I try to never lie.

I found Dobby's death incredible. I often think of Dobby and house elves.

Sometimes it's hard to imagine eating at a place with "wool" in the title. A swank restaurant named "Burlap" just opened near me. I made an informal vow never to patronize it.

The two African violets in my terrarium thrive but have not bloomed. I have yet to help an African violet bloom.

Each House Beautiful issue makes me want to paint my room. Lately, it has been pink.

My current life goal is to make Spike Mendelsohn's Toasted Marshmallow Shake. I try to set attainable, pleasurable goals and encourage you to do the same. Help me help you.

The Cabin

My father's side are the hunters. So the cabin walls hold big game antlers, a deer head, and mounted fish. The cabin was built in the 1950s. It is a repository of family memories and ancient crockery at the end of the road of summer cabins north of Mammoth Lakes. You hear the creek everywhere. And this year it was burgeoning. 

The creek is always cold from snowy run-off. But live water is part of the terrain. We wash dishes with it, boil it to drink, and shower under it. When we talk about the cabin, we talk about the creek. 

Unfolding from the driver's seat in the dark of the dirt road and in the light of the porch, you breathe pine. And the screen door opens and Nancy comes out and the screen door slams. The sound of the screen door, the rush of the creek, and the snap of the fire.  

And every day Donn and mother look for clouds. The family is a family of photographers and clouds are a must. I lay the spiderweb quilt on my up-at-the-top-of-the-stairs bed. It was made for an attic bedroom. The screened window is a frame of trees. Three chamber pots remain. (The outhouse was not used by me; we used the inside bathroom, a room I was previously unfamiliar with.)

Mother found an attractive walking stick the first day. I applauded her spartan resourcefulness. We enjoyed the hearth every night. Every morning Donn turned on the gas stove to warm the kitchen. I feel like I ate mostly bread and cookies (the shortbread chocolate chip!) from Schat's Bakery. I was pleased to regale my audience with stove-popped corn one afternoon. Donn made cracked wheat sourdough French toast. Nancy presented her orange ginger salmon with wild rice, steamed squashes, and avocado papaya salad. We had ice cream every night. Donn did not convert me to Thrifty strawberry cheesecake and I did not convert him to chocolate malted crunch. We learned to play Spite and Malice from Nancy. We watched the slide show Donn made for Selina's funeral. Mother and I both finished our books. I took movies of the creek. We spoke of our generations, living under the roof of a sometime home. And the generations slide further down the creek.

Set in Stone: The Collection

I'm sure you've seen them. Garish shiny red or black plastico leather bindings. A moon-face of an author. Uniform dust jackets. Gilt gold spine lettering. Orangey-red-clothed from Harvard. They are different families in one catagory: the library collection. A small canon from someone who chose, another who approved. And now, they are for sale.


I don't wish to cast dispersion from my non-Parisian garrett. Even I have feelings of love for Everyman's Library from Knopf under the Random House umbrella. Some collections are pristine. I am first to say I love books, regardless of clothing, paper, typeface. However, they are a noble thing and the press should reflect this. If you are interested in buying the Everyman's Essential set for your home (100 volumes), I will break the bad news. The set is backordered. I like to think they sold out at $2,282.45 per (free shipping?) and are now reprinting.


I love a canon, it is true. I sometimes reflect on what is my approved list of books. And, how would I clothe them? The thought came about from reading this post on one of my favorite movies. I've read the book only once and vowed to find it soon to reread. The English Novel. What is more noble? This book would be in my approved set. The 100 Essentials has chosen instead Forster's A Passage to India, a choice I can easily self-explain. I must start creating a canon of English writers to set me on the path.

Luncheon: A Summer Afternoon

A few weeks ago Marci and I revisited our tradition: luncheon. I have often enjoyed sitting at their table and remember the first thing I ate there. We have constructed a few excellent repasts and culled the treasures of the season to do so. This was no exception. Rick joined us and ate two bowls of soup. He embraced the sheep's milk feta.

Menu

Red Pepper Soup with Olives, Lemon Zest, and Yogurt

Shaved Fennel Salad

Maine Crabmeat and Marinated Citrus Fruit Salad with Mint

Hibiscus and Mint Lemonade

Each a winner in its own right. The offerings were natural, we ate and felt light. She led me past the Meyer lemons to the apricots where I picked a bagful. That week I made apricot curd to use in the trifle for Fourth of July. She made apricot ice cream.

Island in the Sun

Last week I spent Thursday on Balboa Island with a large handful of my favorites. We beached, strolled, ate, talked, gawked, and came under the spell of a slow pace and summer streets.

In the evening I ate more seafood than I ever have in one sitting. Smelled delicious basil and tomatoes. Ate my bag of saltwater taffy. Contemplated a fiftieth anniversary. Shivered, sweated, and came home covered in salt and sand.

Sea to Sea

image: www.thecraftingchicks.com

Normally we are all together but mother is away so the mice played alone. I woke too early, ran the stairs at the beach, went to spin class, bought pound cake, made a summer fruit trifle for the evening, baked French toast casserole for the Fourth of July breakfast, drove to the breakfast and watched George and Martha Washington pose for pictures, ate chocolate frozen bananas after breakfast, watched children wave flags, the young women sing, Don Henley in the car on the way home, wanted to take a toes-up, washed my car in the driveway, read Rachael Ray magazines in the sun, went to Pat's for lessons on how to appliqué like a pro (I am daunted), back to my house for the cream, went to Phipps/Nelsons for block party bbq with hamburgers, bulgar salad (yum), pasta salad, and patriotic desserts (overdid on the bbq potato chips), watched fireworks in the street from the Fair, came home ill from the chips, tired from having much fun.

Bulgur Salad with Feta and Mint

Serves 6

1/2 t table salt

1 1/2 C uncooked bulgur

3 T fresh lemon juice

4 t olive oil

1/2 t black pepper

1/2 C crumbled feta

1/2 C fresh chopped mint leaves

Combine 1 1/2 cups cold water and salt in a small pot; bring to a boil and stir in bulgur. Cover pot, remove from heat, and set aside until bulgur is tender and water is absorbed, about 15 minutes. Fluff bulgur with a fork, allow to cool. Spoon bulgur into a serving bowl. Add lemon juice, oil, and pepper; stir well. Add cheese and mint; serve gently but well.

Labels: A Good Record

I appliqued four labels on the quilts I have in my possession. One more to go. I need to dig in the journals for some dates. I wrote with a thin Sharpie. I enjoy stitching with embroidery floss. I plan to learn to handquilt this year. 

Cobwebs

When I saw the spiderweb quilt in a book, I liked the red background. Instead, I chose a purple with red in it. This is big for me. I have only bought some lavendar/purple clothes this year. If there was a color I would never buy, purple would be it. I never wanted to be royal. My feelings have changed enough to foster change. I also wanted this quilt that I thought was full size (and is really twin) to lie on an attic bed. I wasn't opposed to darkness.

Here Brian and I are standing very tall and his shoes peep out. I like my left hand; it is nicely poised.

I am exceedingly fond of the mustard and cranberry binding and find the print delicious to the eye.

This appealing one-year-old offers a dusty handprint. I enjoy when a youth clutches.

My first label. I intend to retrace my efforts and label the others. 

Father's Day

Some people have lost their fathers. Some people still have them. We are in both camps. Without father we watched a plane fly, crash, and undergo repair.

Happy Birthday, Mother!

This woman is not 70. Yet. She will be on a three-week trip over her big day so we celebrated on Saturday with a barbeque, potato salad, strawberries and fruit dip, garlic bread, Chee-tos, Enid's bundt cake (made by Robin), ice cream, and a vanilla cream pie. She wore a crown.

We played bingo and pin the tail on the donkey, the washer game, and swam. Hodgie drank periodically from all the watering cans. There were injuries, bees, and handmade gifts and cards.

She wore a pink ensemble. In the morning we attended the Tuacahn outdoor market where she bought a small sack of faux gems and did a round of shopping. We lunched at The Painted Pony with the girls. Good mother. And many more.