2008-SanDiego-131

Originally uploaded by rteest42

There are a LOT of photos, folks. Like, almost 1000. But I’ve culled that down in half, and I am currently busy looking them over to try to find the three dozen or so that REALLY say Vacation. Yeah, I know– good luck with that!

We went to San Diego a few weeks back, and I was humorously saying it was to get away from the oppressive early June heat wave of Virginia. (Over 103 for days on end with a humidity attempting to reach triple digits as well) It turns out I wasn’t joking! We stayed with three different relatives over the course of the week. One plain old doesn’t HAVE air conditioning. One has it but doesn’t really use it. And the third, well it’s a new high-rise in downtown San Diego, but they were sure to show us how to turn it off if we found it too chilly at night! Seriously, our A/C has been running since early March.

And then they were tripping over themselves, apologizing for the terrible heat, it isn’t usually so hot here, we’re sorry you came out during this weather. It was around 91, and no measurable humidity. We toughed it out!

Beyond the absolute shock at the temperature, we were pleasantly impressed by how incredibly clean downtown San Diego is and I was surprised by the civil quality of the drivers. They don’t even have traffic lights at every intersection, instead trusting drivers to obey 4-way stop signs, and allow pedestrians the right of way. A lovely, if not otherworldly, experience for this New Yorker transplanted to Virginia where there are no such things as pedestrians.

And I have found a new favorite tree, the Jacaranda. What a beautiful, although I understand, fragile tree. The blooms were a wonderful splash of color on the landscape, along with the bougainvillea. Oh, and the palm trees, and the bird of paradise, and the eucalyptus, with its fascinating peeling bark. Timmy laughed and said one entire memory card was going to be trees if I wasn’t careful.

I did remember to take some other photos as well, but sadly realized as we got on the plane that at our last stop, we never did gather Betty and Herb together at the same time to take photos with them!! Sorry!!!

Our flight out was uneventful, if not delayed bizarrely. Anoki and Michael met us and took us out to dinner at a pub called the Tilted Kilt, where Timmy had a sandwich that he then thought about the rest of the vacation. Talk about peaking early!

With our vacation clock firmly set on slow, we managed to make it to the San Diego zoo around 12:30, but had sit down and chat more with the guys at lunch first. Totally fun but definitely cut into our monkey viewing time. Next time, we should arrive at opening. And go for two days. Then, maybe we would have gotten to see everything. However, it was all good, because the baby panda, Zhen Zhen, who was seriously involved in naptime lying on a tree branch, decided to make herself more comfortable. She did some complicated gymnastics on her ‘balance beam’ and turned around and posed for us!

So, for now I am going to leave you with these shots over on Flickr to enjoy. As I edit more, I will post more!

I received a letter the other day. No, really, a LETTER. The kind with a stamp, and a handwritten address, found in the mailbox at the end of a day away from home, nestled amongst all those envelopes offering me $64,000 in home equity loans and the local grocery ads.

 

I felt this shimmer of excitement as I turned it over in my hands. I walked to the backdoor, the stack of mail in one hand, my keys, pocketbook and other flotsam of the day in the other.

 

What would the letter say? Would it be good news, offering me the answer to the questions I had posed just weeks back, or an apologetic refusal? It was a response to a letter I indeed had mailed out weeks earlier. I had almost forgotten I mailed it. I ran through all sorts of possible responses as I did the things that required me to enter my home without stepping on a cat and falling face first onto the dining room floor. I tossed everything down and with a strange thrill of anticipation I opened my letter, and it was a note card, handwritten. Script. With a pen!

 

I recall this with such fondness because I challenge you to think—when was the last time you wrote a letter? (And the letter I wrote in order to gain this response barely counts, as I composed and typed it out on my keyboard and merely signed the bottom.)

 

Unless you are amongst the small majority of souls, I bet it was Christmas; and it was a sheet you stuck into a card. Was that sheet typed and copied? Have you sold your soul to Hallmark.com, because you flip the calendar to today and discover it’s someone’s birthday; right now, this minute??

 

I communicate with the outside world in a similar fashion that most of you do. Email –(almost exclusively with some folks); Cell or Texting. Voicemail.  Instant messaging. Instant, or almost instant response. Instant gratification for the sound-bite generation. Heck, my handwriting, my script especially, has become a tortured example of chicken scratch. I leave Post-It sized notes for my staff, that’s about the sum of my cursive writing practice lately (sorry Miss Maniscalco; all that effort for naught)

 

I remember letters though. I have an entire box of old letters dating back, wow…dating back thirty years or better. Some few precious ones are from my great grandmother—now there was a woman who took pride in her penmanship! Letters from old boyfriends,  and best friends long forgotten. Some bring back fond memories of high school; specifically sitting in Bio Lab, writing to Jeanine, who lived 4 hours away, about all sorts of earth-shattering things; like Shaun Cassidy.

 

Then there are those letters from Rene. Billy, my mailman of old, could tell you how obsessed I was waiting on my letters from Rene. The anticipation from the moment my last letter had been mailed, counted out to the time it should take to travel from home to Quebec and back, give or take a day for response. My heart would flutter as I heard the mail truck. I would greedily dig through the stack each day once my appointed turn-around time occurred.

 

Weeks could pass between writing and receiving a response!

 

Those were the days…

 

Thank you Crystal, my long-lost, just found cousin, for reminding me!

My little vent….

 

(….in the real world, it doesn’t make an iota of difference, really. So, ignore me if you want. No solving world hunger, or saving lives or deciding on future world leaders)

 

But it’s bugging me, nonetheless. The other day, I was able to read an ARC. An Advanced Readers Copy of a new novel, the 14^th in the series. (Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum Novels, for those who care) It’s unpublished till next month; there will possibly be only some modest changes between now and then, based solely on the fact that it’s due to hit the stores on June 17^th.

 

Suffice it to say, with much certainty, I read the book as it will be published. And honestly? It stank. I wanted to like it. I love the characters, and have invested much of my free time writing about them, giving them my own endings, in something called Fan Fiction. It’s been an amazing opportunity for me to hone my writing skills, learn about developing characters, creating plots—all that fun literary stuff.

 

Yet this book fell short on just in just about every category. I’ve written a letter and sent it to the publisher and the author, so it’s not like I’m making you have to listen to me whine ineffectually. But what is bothering me is this. I and a number of others who have read the advanced copy of the book have posted reviews on the book selling sites, as they allow and ask. And after a short time, the book went from 5 stars, with peoples’ reviews being along the lines of—“I love this series and can’t wait to read the newest installment”—- (Not by any stretch a REVIEW, by the way) to— “Fell asleep trying to make it through. Not the author’s best work, sloppily written…..etc.”

 

In other words, poor reviews by people who have READ the book. It seems however, that Barnes and Nobles.com isn’t really interested in REVIEWS. The third day after the ARC was available the book went from 5 stars to 2.5 stars.

 

And then something miraculous happened. All the bad reviews DISAPPEARED. There are currently about a dozen ‘reviews’…all singing the praises of PAST books.

 

And you know what, it just agrravates me.

2008-5-10 arlie oval 8×10

Originally uploaded by rteest42

…at least between 10 am and 11:55 am… Graduation ended at 12:05….
It DID rain on traveling day…all day Thurs, from VA to PA. It rained all day on moving day, Friday….

And somewhere, the prayers of parents and grandparents across the states (for Virginia Tech, at the very least, also had grad) reached heavenward….
and it didn’t rain till 11:55…..
I don’t know if it rained on the 3 pm graduates, because we had left Bloomsburg by then.

Never fear, however, the rain returned with a vengence on Sunday….thru Pa to VA…and still Monday it’s raining!!!!

However, the graduation ceremony was wonderful, and I am oh, so very proud!!!!!

 ARLIE at her FIRST graduation, Kindergarten 1990

 GRADUATION DAY!

Well, here we are—Graduation day!!!!

Long awaited by all, an anticipated final moment of the great chidhood-adult divide.

I can’t quite describe how incredibly proud and impressed I am by my daughter and her achievement.

It’s been a longer than average journey, but there you are. A College GRADUATE! Arlie is 100% responsible for making this dream of hers come true.

I work with young people often; in retail I am around young men and women her age all the time. I feel that I can say with only a little pride that she is unique. I am sometimes disappointed by the behaviors and attitudes of some of my co-workers, because I am so used to the way that she thinks, with an eye toward the future, and an understanding and acceptance that hard things are hard, and that working toward a goal is satisfying in the long run….(who WOULDN’T want to be handed everything, and not have to work for it??)

As Timmy often told me whe he was getting to know Arlie, ‘Your daughter is NOT normal!’ (meant in the most positive of ways) Who knew… she and all her friends operated on the same page, that of personal responsibility and accountablity and expectations from the adults in their lives. They all were ‘good’ kids…. they were good students, good citizens, and good friends. They accomplished and achieved and cared and loved and suffered together….

What a girl!!!

PS…She’s looking for work. You want to hire her?? She’s an AWESOME worker (I can say that because she worked with me for 3 years during high school, and was without a doubt my second best employee –I often said if I could just clone her and Ozzie…Well, yeah, ok,  I still say that!!)

PPS… Happy Mother’s Day to all to whom this applies in my life… No frogs this year, a photo of a graduating child is an even better Gift!!!

PPPS HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!

PPPPS HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOE!!!

SouthPark AREA

Originally uploaded by rteest42

well, yeah give this Yankee girl a good old fashioned blizzard any day of the week….

This is my little photoshopped image of the track as the tornado touched down on Monday, April 28, 2008. (click on image for enlarged view) I was in the M marked location, toward the back of the store, and the best description I could give would be it sounded as if some huge creature was being dragged across the roof, it’s claws digging into the roof. Not at all like any of the many bad thunder or wind sounds I’ve heard in the building.

We had no warning; considering no one was on break watching TV.

The first X on the lower left —that building had its roof cave in and debris (possibly an AC unit??) was tossed onto 95, along with some vehicles on 95 being involved…..

We were incredibly lucky. The A/C unit was ripped off its base and left a 4×8 hole in the roof. Other than that and some sign damage, minor cosmetic exterior damage, we were good. Then it went across the parking lot toward the water tower, damaging but not flipping a good 2 dozen or more cars, skipped just by the tower and hit across the street… there was much more damage there, cars flipped, roofs torn up, etc, and some injuries…then it went to the last X which is now a car dealership; it folded a few light poles and damaged cars there…then disappeared…

And all day yesterday I heard of how incredibly lucky we were…. how last time (15 years ago) before touching down and destroying the Walmart (the W on the map) how it leveled part of Historic olde towne Petersburg, and then leveled where M’s is currently, before getting to Wallyworld and killing 4 people….

This time, it seems as if Suffolk got the worst of the tornados…. but you know what?

I’m good. Really. More things to cross off my list of Experience before you die…

Been through a hurricane (isabelle), an earthquake, and now a tornado since I moved to VA—and Everyone is always carrying on about how I must be glad I moved from New York!!!

ETA— So, I got to work yesterday and everyone kept telling me how good I sounded on TV!!! –apparently my 911 call was played on channel 12 and 8 over and over…..Yikes…

I have about a half dozen thoughts, that could be posted tonight, but I don’t know if I’m really in the mood to flesh any one of them out at the moment, so I think just a random sampling of what’s rolling around in my head would be enough (or possibly WAY too much for some)

So, without further ado and with absolutely no order to the listing….

1-flowers/animals…

2-writing

3-quilting

4-joy?

5-anniversary

6-computer

Last week Timmy and I went to the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden and I had a blast taking some lovely floral shots. That you can’t see. Because of(let me see) # 6. The computer. Right, recall that computer I got from Joe for my birthday? It’s great. Wonderful (no, Really Joe, i MEAN IT, Thanks!!!) However, it and I have had a difference of opinion on where I store software, whether I wanted all 110,000 messages sent to my new OUTLOOK, etc.

But now, basically, I am good to go. Except for the monitor which is small (I didn’t think it was, I thought it the size of a house, but the SCREEN part of the monitor is SMALL!!!) and the fact that my Photoshop Elements claims a file is missing and won’t upload. So, I just ordered myself Elements 6.0 and when it arrives, I will be able to share images (I mean, I COULD…but I shot in RAW, and they are HUGE…..)

Ok, that was the flowers, part one. Part two is that I planted seeds on Saturday last, and so of course the deluge came. I am relatively certain that most of my seeds were washed away, and I will see them in the gully (sorry Timmy) or in some unsuspecting neighbors yard. I am talking something like 4 inches of rain on Sunday, ok?? A little tiny seed probably didn’t have a chance. 

In any event, it was all part of my annual effort to prove I AM NOT A PESSIMIST!!! I insist on planting, I am sure success will be mine, this time. I forget, except intellectually, what it feels like in the summer, at 103 in the front southern facing yard. I forget that the weeds are barely capable of surviving the voles/moles that are tunnelling through our entire front yard. ( I know there is a difference between the two creatures, but if I google them I will have to look at some icky creature. Its ok, thanks)

I determined after 4 years ( I AM teachable) not to spend too much money on plants, because it seems they just cant make it. I bought seeds. Except for two plants. One of which was stolen. Yep, yanked up right out of the garden a gaping hole left. It was either a vole/mole or a squirrel because they left the name tag.

 Speaking of squirrels. I am thinking of opening a spa for them, right here in my back yard. Location, location, location!  I watched a squirrel yesterday collecting seeds from the scene of the crime the day before, when he or his cohorts were caught hanging by their rear legs, and swinging their bodies up at an unnatural angle in order to stick their head into the bird feeder. The cheap bird feeder I bought when I decided we would see how the birds liked our yard, which they have promptly broken by all their acrobatics.  Well, the jury is out on the birds, but the squirrels are guilty!!! 

After said squirrel gorged himself on stolen seed, he pranced into my screened in gazebo, stood on the adirondak chair and stopped for a drink of water that had pooled on the side table. Then he proceeded to climb up onto the corner shelves of the gazebo, and stretch out for a nap under the shade of the roof.

 Ok, so WRITING. I finally have completed an outline for The Big Chill,  my fan fic in progress for over a year. It’s down to 6 songs. I know (kind of) whats going to happen in each of them!! hooray!! ( wow, I finished a thought in 3 sentences!!)

Onto quilting. Ah, quilting. My other love. I have started three (shush, you DID NOT hear that) projects. And have made headway on a fourth. I am working currently on a Wild Goose Chase made entirely of batiks and black. I have one-third of the blocks finished.

I started (although I swore I would wait)  on my Sylvia’s Bridal Sampler quilt. Two blocks so far. But there are 140. So I have some time yet to go. Eithne and Robin think they will join me on this journey.

And of course I FINALLY started on the challenge quilt Eithne proposed. I have 1 of four named blocks completed. Waiting on receipt of the other 5 block names.

And then there is the TQP challenge, 2008. Which as a challenge goes is easy. Using your initials, choose three colors and make a quilt. Wonderful. Easy-peasy. Except I designed the quilt. And then messed up the measurements and cut and stitched 24 nine patch blocks too small.  No, not really too small, just too small for me to do do the alternating block as a paper pieced block. I am ready to shoot myself after the first 2/3 of one block!!! So I re-drafted the pattern to enlarge that block to 10 inches from 6 so that I would still have hair left when I was finished.  I do have to master Paper Piecing if I expect to get through Sylvia. But — easy steps.

Joy?– Or control? What causes, in this day and age, with all of the incredibly serious, earth changing events currently at play,…. what causes someone to loose their minds over the minutiae of life? Is it because they truly DON’T have any worries?? They know of no-one suffering a great illness, or worrying whether their job is secure, or has family in Iraq, or, or, or…..

Today, a customer called me. (I custom frame art) She had brought her art BACK to me to re-paper, because the BACK of the frame was wavy, bubbly, whatever. I agreed it didn’t look awesome as far as that all went, and  was flummoxed by the adhesive not sticking. I re-did them myself this time, so I KNOW what they looked like. Mind you, the frame was great, the stitching, etc, not a single complaint on any of the 5 pieces. But she swore the ‘only’ thing she could see whenever she walked by them was the gap between the paper and the frame. (I know, WHERE are they hanging anyway?? AT what angle is she viewing them?)

Her husband picked them up the other day. We looked them over and found them acceptable. Today she got home from her vacation and called me, yelling at me, wanting to know what I could do to fix them, what kind of a guarantee did we have, what kind of materials am I using? You get the picture, right? Remember, from the front they are PERFECT. It’s not as if scraps of backing paper are sticking randomly out. It is the back. The side that faces the WALL. 

So, the question I leave you with…. is this person truly that Anal? Does she really think this is an IMPORTANT issue?  Or is her world spinning so fast off of its axis that THIS is the only thing she thinks is within her control?

Anniversary… SIX, yep count’em, SIX years ago Sunday  we got married. And we agree we are so well suited. Indeed I went out yesterday and bought Timmy a gift. You see he has recently taken up Golf.

And today, I watched as he emptied out his trunk when he got home. Yep, I stood there and watched him pull out of his trunk a golf bag. And not ANY OLD golf bag, but indeed the exact one whose twin is currently hiding in the guest room, now apparently awaiting return…

Yep, we belong together!

6,700,000 minutes running, 235,000 odd minutes left. (–and counting).

How do you measure—-

Measure success?

Measure a life?

A gritty, sad, uplifting tale, tossed into the 1990’s in NYC and it is iconic now. Just the other day I was in the city for the afternoon, on a no particular destination roam-about. And walking past The Nedelander Theater, the walls covered with graffiti caught me as they do, and the wash of a variety of emotions churned around in my mind.

My daughter Arlie fell in love with Rent way back in the 8th grade, 10 years ago. I closed my eyes and could see her smiling face as she opened the envelope on Christmas morning with her tickets to Rent. She lived with the CD in her Walkman, all the lyrics committed to memory. And it’s probably on her Ipod at this moment.

Another vision of Arlie and I, walking through the smoky, dusty streets of Manhattan on September the 15 or 16 2001, on our way to purchase tickets to Rent so her soon to be step-sister could see the show.

We stood on Broadway in the dusky late afternoon as a parade of heavy machinery, designed to tear things apart, crept southward, and the more final implications of their actions reached deep inside our aching hearts; because those behemoths were all but declaring no one would be found living in the rubble, Guilani’s continued TV proclamations of searching longer to the contrary. It was a quiet moment on Broadway, the same thought probably flitting through every persons mind.

Rent has been on Broadway, it occurs to me, most of Arlie’s conscious life. All of her adult life. And now she is graduating from college next month (FINALLY ;} ) and Rent will be closing soon too. All around us, things change, grow,move on.

It seems fitting I think, that maybe tickets to Rent could be a part of her graduation celebration. It’s always been there for her so far. Guess I need to find out how difficult it will be to find some tickets to the show.

So how odd indeed, to come home and find an article in the New York Times on the actual genesis of the Wall at the Nederlander? It’s an interesting article… Click here!

Look at my Flickr photos (to the right) for the photos I took last week.

well, no this has NOTHING at all to do with foreboding,  but Happy Ides of March sounds off, don’t you think? …And I am about two days too early for St Pat…but then again, I am Irish year round–not to mention a Patricia and  a Green,  so Happy St Patricks Day early….

I see my last post was for Dad’s birthday…that seems so long ago, until you figure that was way close to the end of the month–oh, heck; yeah its been a long time since I have updated.

 No real excuses. I celebrated my 43rd birthday with considerably less fanfare than my 42nd…(42 being the meaning and purpose of life and all that… you can check out last years blog for how I spent my day)

As an early birthday gift, every year I spend the weekend before at the Mid-Atlantic Quilt show in Hampton.  This year I finally made the leap and purchased a ‘real’ machine. The Viking Sapphire 830, with a 10″ throat, for me to hopefully be able to master machine quilting this year.  Thanks Nana, who left me a small sum of money, that I used for the purchase. I wanted to buy something she would approve of with the money, and not allow it to fritter away on those silly bills.

And as a late birthday gift, my brother-in-law Joe gave me a computer. Yep, really. He tinkers with them (hey it keeps him off the streets) and he cobbled together a pretty nifty set-up with a monitor that needs its own room…but free is free, and greatly appreciated….and I have almost found enough room in my studio for it. That has required the wholesale shifting of almost every item in there. Good practice for spring cleaning.

Speaking of spring cleaning, you know that my husband is reminded often that he did NOT marry me for my domestic prowess. (as this is a PG place WHY he married me is NONE of your business  LOL) I maintain that housework belongs at the BOTTOM of any list of things to do. I have a sign in my kitchen that reads “A clean kitchen is a sign of a wasted life!”

But did you know that housework is dangerous; possibly even fatal to electronics? Last week, like the good wife I am, I decided to do laundry (and NO, it wasn’t ONLY because you had to climb over the dirty stuff to get into the bathroom). Well, Timmy had been out in the garage playing cars, and had tossed his dirty clothes onto the pile. I was doing towels and sweats and in they went.

Lo and behold the next morning, who is muttering all through the house, trying to figure out where his Nano went?  Now, just let me stop for a minute and tell you that Timmy is just this side of OCD about emptying his pockets.

Yep, you guessed it. I washed Nano.

Turns out the gods were with me, and it’s not a particularly rare thing to have happen.  I googled washing your nano of course and discovered it was probably most thoroughly dead, but sit it out for a few days to dry before you bury it was the advice I located.

And do you know it worked? About 4 days after it’s tumble through the machine (it was rescued before the dryer) Timmy plugged it in and it worked! Catastrophe averted.

But I’m still a little leary about housework.

So, what else do we have going on this spring? *(yes, the nice thing about here is it’s mostly spring…my daffodils are almost GONE already)

Heading north next weekend to catch up with family for Easter, Connecticut here we come.  Spend a day in Manhattan, and possibly pop by Dad’s house on the way back to see how he’s doing. 

 Give a good thought to him when you have a chance— he just had some lung cancer surgeries, but he’s fiesty and ready for battle…. you can catch up with him and keep a closer eye on his life by checking in at http://countryjoesblog.com/ , since he shares more readily with people there whats going on medically.

happy happy day…. =)

click image for more photos

ok, on to my new years resolution…(yes there is a connection!) A bit late to the game you say? Well, come on. Should something of the magnitude of a year long promise be relegated to a night of party-ing, and one-up-manship when listing your resolutions? Of course not. (hey, I was in bed before the ball dropped,  but a ‘me-too-er’ I’m not)

Resolve away on that night and are you destined to failure? Timmy hopes so, so he can get back to getting INTO the gym and not having to wait in a line for equipment (I have tried to convince him hiking from the way back parking lot constitutes his warm-up)

My resolution may be late, but it’s arrived with some forethought.

–SCAN all the family photographs.–

• once and for all, gather all the genealogical images that are in this house
•  scan
• Identify
• touch-up
• Burn CD’s
• upload to Flickr
• share with family

Simple, eh? Surely you jest. Have you any idea how many photos I have? I fear to say thousands, but in the high hundreds at least. I will then carefully box and put away the originals, and be able to call upon an image at the stroke of a few keys, instead of tossing the house upside down because I can “see” it in my head and “know” I own it.

This is the part where you come in! When you go off to view the photos I upload (and I am going to be doing this in small bits) –do you recognize anyone? Any place? Have I mis-identified someone? Does looking at the photos remind you of a story about a family member? Pass the information on to me please!

Next, do YOU have any family photos sitting around that you would like me to scan for you? (this means you –clarks, caseys, franks, bakers, greens –) If so, contact me about sending them my way and I will get them archived and back to you quickly.

So, WHY did this become my resolution? Well, sadly I recieved a call a week or so back informing me that Bill Casey III passed away. During a conversation with his lovely daughter Barbara, a discussion of the ‘Casey’ nose ensued. I was telling her I believed it to be a Carr trait and got ready to email her ‘proof’, but alas, I was lost by the lack of being able to lay my hands on the images easily. (when I get all the appropriate photos pulled together, we can re-visit this concept) 

And the Happy Birthday connection? Dad’s birthday just happened along as I came across a bunch of his photos to  scan. So I decided to be ‘cruel’ and post some images so you can see what a cutie he was, once upon a time! Click on the baby  to see lots more photos, and on the WORD “Dad’s” highlighted to go to his blog, and via that visit his virtual world and drop him some birthday wishes! 

Don’t forget to leave a comment!!

In last month’s post, I took the time to say thank you. Thank you for being a part of my life, and for making it a more enjoyable place. So for Christmas, what to write?

How about a trip down memory lane? (Complete with Scary photos!)

• Christmas was different, way back when. (Seriously.) It absolutely DID NOT START IN JULY!
• There were no such things as TACKY LIGHT TOURS.
• Wrapping paper and Christmas cards and ornaments went on sale the day AFTER Christmas.
• Santa lived in the NORTH POLE, not the center court of the mall.
• Making a Santa list meant lying on the floor perusing the Sears or JC Penney catalog.
• It was a clever and desirable decorative accent to have bushy metallic garland wrapped around the tree.
• You were oh so contemporary if you had tiny colored lights on the tree, and even more sophisticated if you used twinkling WHITE lights.
• At our house, we used the big honking Christmas bulbs. And the tree was not artificial and wired for lights and sound.

 Indeed the thing was barely capable of standing on its own in the stand. It was helped along every year by strategically placed string. Some string was tied to the French door behind it, some was tied to a nail on the opposite wall. The illusion was that of an upright tree in the corner of the living room, next to the (working) fireplace, complete with stockings.

One year, in my determination to prove that Santa didn’t exist, I began to scavenge around the house, looking into every hidey-hole and drawer. I scoured the basement, even climbed into the little room under the stairs on my search. (as if Grandma could have climbed into that hole!) I finally did find the stash. It was on the top shelf in the closet in Grandma’s room. I discovered first, the Tiffany box that had a set of crystal ashtrays that Daddy Gus had received for some event ( I still own those) I discovered whatever must have gift as well, so I was very proud of myself.

And then, Christmas morning, I was let down. I had no anticipation, or excitement about the day, because I KNEW already that Santa-Grandma had come through. I prefer to be surprised, I discovered that day.

One other memory, and a fond one at that. We used to go Christmas Caroling in the neighborhood. Mr and Mrs Nichols, the Cernera family, the Grace family, maybe even the Nordnesses and the Padulas or the Suerats. We would travel from home to home on Ellicott Place and up and down Prospect Avenue. Ringing doorbells, singing our hearts out, loudly and probably off key in the dark of Christmas Eve. We always opted to ring the front door at the Graces. Probably the only day the door was used. Hot chocolate, cider and cookies were provided at a variety of homes. We would gather in the kitchen of Mrs. Beveridge, my kindergarten teacher, and warm up before continuing our rounds.

Christmas does have it’s memories, doesn’t it?

I hope that you and yours make wonderful new ones this Christmas season. May your day be merry and bright. And may next year be as wonderful as you deserve!!!

Love ya,

Trish

Trans-siberian Orchestra  Gorgeous Christmas music, with narration by Ossie Davis, who helps to tell the story of an angel who visits earth one Christmas eve in search of a star to follow.

What,  you didn’t forget the scary photos, did you? Check these out! (look over to the Flicker bar and double click if you are brave!

…another year has almost gone by, and far too little time has been spent around with those we love…far too much time has been spent worrying over things we can’t change… a year of suffering over losses…and celebrating successes…saying hello and saying goodbye…

…on balance, i hope that each and everyone of you, whom I hold closely to my heart, whose part in my life is an integral part of who I am right now….have had more days that were welcoming, more mornings that found success at the end of the day, and that the days that were hard were few and far between…I hope that you have been able to find something or someone to smile at every day….

thank you for being in my life!

Happy Thanksgiving, to you all, whether you are here in America stuffing yourself or off in a not so far-flung corner of the world, spending just another day….

International Quilt Festival, Houston  2007.

This is my second year with a quilt at Houston in the Journal Quilt show, and it is also the last year of this multi-year show. My first series of quilts is still traveling in part. One is being shown again this year, in the “book” section of the Journal show.  I must publicly thank Karey Bresenhan for her tireless enthusiasm for this project. Without it, I don’t know if I would have ever made the leap and tried to exhibit my work!!!!

This years quilt began with a box.  Last year I read about an artist who ships painted boxes to anyone who requests one. They say “FRAGILE: Contains—and then an empowerment word.”(www.fdlmstudio.com/)

Click on this to see the quilt. 

It’s about the community of people, the connection; the thinking that occurs as people encounter the box on its journey.  A brightly painted orange and yellow box arrived at my home one day with the label “Fragile: Contains INSIGHT”. The box sits in my studio. My mind ponders the word, thinking about its true meaning. Researching it, it has many facets of definition. In October of last year, I traveled to Ocracoke Island, NC. I am not a morning person. But I do love sunrise, so on vacations where there is a beach involved I don’t growl too much when awakened before dawn.  I took a large number of photos at the beach of an incredible sunrise. One is framed and sits on my studio desk. The fiery orange INSIGHT box sits next to it.   

Choosing this year’s quilt was difficult. One quilt? I had thought that nine were hard. I froze. Finally in July, I noticed these two objects together and a quilt just came to me. Photo transfer! Painting! Crystals! Oh, and let’s try silk and rayon! In a matter of days, the quilt was almost finished except for the details. Having taken a Pamela Allen class, I decided to approach it with her pre-layered quilt sandwich as a canvas to stitch a variety of fabrics from clothes purchased at the Goodwill.

The lace of one wave is from the edge of a blouse once owned by my grandmother. I made a photo transfer of the original photograph, sandwiched and bound it and applied Swarvoski crystals to the sparkling water. I didn’t really know how this would be incorporated. It kind of evolved. Took it to work one day, and found explaining what I was up to helped clarify and validate my thought processes and ideas. At that point I realized the photo needed to be hung from a piece of driftwood; alas no more time for another trip to the beach. I scrounged around the yard for a piece of wood, scraped and bleached it and then found some sunrise colored yarns to hang the smaller quilt from the larger quilt. This three-dimensional aspect begged for balance on the bottom, hence the tulle trapped seashells.  Since I collect seashells and sand from every place I go that provides them, it wasn’t a challenge to come up with a few to incorporate.

I broke the drought last week.

You can hold your applause. We consider it a public service, our breaking the drought on Tuesday of last week. (It wasn’t just me, it was both of us together. I know how to share.)

Or maybe you need to credit my husband. After all, it was his brilliant idea that we take a weekend in the middle of the week, drive FIVE hours to Hawk Mountain in PA so we could hike and take pictures of migrating raptors and lovely fall foliage. We were gonna leaf peep!

It hasn’t rained in central Virginia in too long. Lake Chesdin can be walked across. Probably could find a spot in the James to do something similar, if you were a betting (crazy) man. It’s been DRY. I haven’t even been able to grow good weeds in my yard this summer. And that’s saying something. Weeds have been my specialty.

Anyway, we took off on Tuesday morning for points north. We were going to have lunch with Arlie in Bloomsburg, and then drive down to Kempton, which is near New Tripoli (pronounced Tra-POLE-e) which is– well, if you know where Allentown is, go a bit to the west and hope. Timmy had found a lovely little bed and Breakfast, Pamela’s Forget Me Not and we were going to bunk down there for  the night. 

 It was beautiful. The B&B that is. The weather was not. It started raining in PA about the time we left VA. Dunno if they were having a drought, but if they were, we took care of that one, too.

It rained all day. And all night. And all the next day. So we went up to the mountain on Wednesday, and we sloshed along the shortest, easiest trail for a bit, and pretended like we were having the time of our lives. My camera was under my coat, and I on occasion pulled it up, and aimed it at the great gaping air.

We were IN the clouds, so the wonderful effect of autumn, with it’s garnet and ruby and fiery gold was obliterated. Replaced by something soft and delicate and impossible to focus on.

We drove home then, the long way of course; and the little rain cloud stayed over our car through the afternoon and into the night. And when we arrived home, it parked right over Richmond, and it continued to rain for another 36 hours. I certainly hope everyone appreciates the efforts we went through on behalf of the residents of Virginia.

This cloud is, by the way, a familiar traveling companion. It has joined us before. It went with us on our honeymoon. To Niagra Falls, and points west as far as the Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio. (Don’t tell Timmy, but it’s MY cloud. Even before I met him, it used to join me on vacation. Ask Ken and Libbey about their wedding someday )

We have asked the cloud to leave, however. It’s needed in SoCal, where my brother and uncle and cousin are battling fire.

Go here for some of the photos that we took on our trip. (or look to the right and work from there!)

Enjoy!

This my Second FAN FICTION effort.  The characters belong to Janet Evanovich,from her Stephanie Plum series of books, if you recognize them. This is an alternate reality / and
Plum universe short series, (maybe), based loosely on the soundtrack for the movie the Big Chill. (but it has nothing at all to do with the movie!)

Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wond’ring in the night
What were the chances we’d be sharing love
Before the night was through.Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in your smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart,
Told me I must have you.
Strangers in the night, two lonely people
We were strangers in the night
Up to the moment
When we said our first hello.
Little did we know
Love was just a glance away,
A warm embracing dance away and -Ever since that night we’ve been together.
Lovers at first sight, in love forever.
It turned out so right,
For strangers in the night.Charles Singleton and Eddie SnyderI skid to a stop at the curb of the Performing Arts Center, and swung the door to my black Jag open. The valet, a bow tied kid of maybe twenty or so couldn’t wipe the drool from his mouth fast enough as I slipped myself from the car and handed him my keys. I walked around to the passenger door, and played the gallant knight, opening the door and holding out my hand to
Marina.  She could always stop traffic,
Marina could; and tonight was no exception.  It was almost nine pm; the sun had only just gone down on this, the first day of summer. We were here for The Summer Solstice Gala, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. The night air was sultry; it hung heavy and thick. No surprise there, humidity and
New Jersey go hand in hand. You would of course never know this by looking at
Marina. She took my hand, smiled up at me, and swung her legs out in a graceful movement. The slit up the side of her skirt was almost indecent. Her gown was the color of the sunset, with a flaming orange skirt that slowly turned fiery red by the time it reached the top of the plunging neckline which was edged with glittering crystals. She looked crisp, and sparkling; cool and collected, as always. It was no surprise to me that she was one of the best neurosurgeons in the tri-state area.  

No, truth be told, she looked hot, on fire; but I guess she knew that too, based on the confident smile she boasted. Her hair was piled high, in some type of knot, that looked artful and happenstance all at once. I knew she had spent at least an hour having it arranged just so. Her skin was glowing and tanned, as if she needed enhancement to her rich mocha colored skin. With her make-up done as it was she looked exotic and alluring; as far away from the seriousness and precision of an operating room as one could get. My tuxedo, on the other hand, felt like a sweat drenched rag. I hated the thing on a cool night; dressing up wasn’t really my idea of fun. But I had promised I would escort her, as I was proud of her accomplishments, loved her for all she was worth and was, by all accounts, stuck in
Trenton for another six weeks.  

She took the arm I offered her, and squeezed it with gratitude.  I knew we made quite the couple as we approached the entrance to the ballroom. We had been this route before, Marina and I, and we knew the roles we played. Neither of us cared for the game, but we played it well; too often for my taste, but we were successful. And that, she would remind me in the morning, as I regaled to her the horrors of the night just past, is how the game is played, little brother.  The music was too loud, and the scents of extravagant floral displays and too many perfumes competed with the distasteful aroma of another rubber chicken meal.  The room was overfilled with patrons of the arts, matronly woman trolling the tables for men like me; (my sister called me eye candy!) philanthropists and the hoi-polloi. 

Marina was whisked away by someone from the hospital almost immediately. She was off to do her thing, and chat it up with strangers; laughing and making it seem like it was their own idea to hand over a generous check to the Center for Brain Studies. She was good at this; this schmoozing, stupid bullshit. Ask the damn man to donate the money and save us from nights like these, I groaned.   I would prefer hand to hand combat in darkest Africa over being pawed over by outdated, dried up, disillusioned society wives who would undoubtedly swarm around me all night long. At first they will pretend fascination at my sister’s astonishing career and success, and slowly, as they imbibe more alcohol they will begin to oh so indiscreetly proposition me, the handsome bachelor. They will worry over me and my lack of female companionship, and will twitter behind their hands at how they want to run their fingers through my hair, comment to one another on the shape of my ass, or breathlessly ask how many people have I killed; all to the end that they hope I will grace them with my presence in their bed.  

Oh, anywhere else right now, indeed. I looked again at Marina. Her smile could stop time. Her laughter was like angels singing. I guess I better get moving along myself; it’s a damn good thing I love her. And owe her my own life.  ====Tonight is game three of a good series between the Mets and the Red Sox, ya know? Mets are gonna go all the way this year, I can feel it. And yet, here I am, at another stupid fund-raiser, just so Dickie can be seen by all the right people. Damn stupid people. I mean, I guess I can’t complain right? Free liquor, another new dress and a nice day at the spa….oh, if only Dickie would lavish that kind of attention on me for me, instead of to impress other people.                                                                                                                                 His boss’s wife had asked we attend; this brain thing was a pet charity of hers, and she wanted us to be there. No expense was spared making me look hot and sexy, like Dickie felt I should look; and we arrived in his fully loaded Lexus.  All window dressing.  I drove a beater, because I couldn’t afford anything more; I had to put my extra money towards the wedding that my mother and Dickie wanted us to have, to celebrate in the style he would like to become accustomed. Argh.  

Of course, my parent’s couldn’t afford that kind of wedding. Valerie had only gotten married two years ago, and my dad was still paying it off. And Dickie, well, go figure; there’s the one thing he wants to be traditional about. I live with him, we have sex, but the bride’s family (in this case, little ol’ me) should pay for the whole wedding. And don’t get me wrong. I want a gorgeous wedding too. What girl born and raised in Chambersburg, New Jersey doesn’t? It’s the lullaby sung to us at night, for chrissakes! But the entire wedding industry is currently on my shit list.  Every blasted thing that has the word bride or groom attached to it has its price jacked up like crazy.  

And the food tonight sucked. Two big ones for this nasty chicken dinner? I was glad I ate before I left. That made Dickie happy, because I left so much on my plate. Everyone saw what a dainty eater I was. It showed I cared about my figure. Score another one for Dickie Orr, he sure found himself a winner.  Yeah right. I just preferred to eat real food, ya know? After I listlessly nibbled at my dinner, we danced. I was wearing my ‘last years Vera Wang great deal but I can say it’s a Vera Wang’ dress, and really cute FMP’s. Dickie does share my interest in FMP’s; I am never lacking in the shoe department. I liked this pair because I could squash his foot with the heel ‘accidentally’ when he stepped on my toes. If he tries to dance without counting time, he always misses a step and there goes my pedicure. Ballroom lessons have at least prevented things like broken toes.  

My fiancé is what is generously called light skinned. In actuality is skin tone is similar to mine, but on a woman it’s called porcelain and is desirable, but for a guy he’s a bit pasty. His brown hair is thick and wavy, and he’s considered generally handsome, I suppose. I guess I am supposed to be biased, because he is mine. I see other women looking him over as we dance, so yeah, I guess he’s the catch of the year, or the day, or something. His tux was tight in all the right places, and he does look the part of the successful lawyer. Here’s hoping! He’s just my height when I’m in heels, and I guess we have a nice look about us together. It was no surprise to anyone when we announced our engagement; so really, all in all we are good together.  And he must envision future little Orr’s or something, because he wants to marry me, Stephanie Plum, whose mother had long ago given up hope of teaching me the finer arts of being a housewife. Not for lack of trying. But once I’d set a few toaster ovens on fire and the motor of the blender was burned out, even Mom thought I should just aim high on the income scale and hope for a housekeeper.  If Dickie can make partner, I may just get mom’s wish! So, being the dutiful fiancée who dreams of a life larger than the waxy buildup on the kitchen floor, you can guess I am motivated to dance with all of Dickie’s employers; heck I’ll dance with anyone who will assist me in my desire to escape lifelong drudgery.====Tonight was dragging.  Even for a fundraiser it was a long night. When I mentioned it to Marina, she laughed at me and told me to go find someone to play with.  So, here I am, standing, waiting in the lobby, eyeing all the ladies as they move to and fro, and trying to find someone to entertain me. Hey, it was her idea!  

Intrigued?? Interested in finding out what happens NEXT???  Go here.

Well, yes, it is Superbowl Sunday, but since that interests me as much as scrubbing the bathroom floor, let us talk about Christmas!

I made these cute pocketbooks for Christmas this year. Test one for me, one for Arls, Missy and Beth….

No! I am  NOT a math geek. I have a hate/hate relationship with the stuff as a matter of fact. However, last summer, I discovered this series of novels, and after having read them all, felt that I needed MORE!  For some reason, I began searching for more information, and discovered the world of Fan Fiction.  I endeavored to write a little story of my own, which took the characters from Stephanie Plum, by Janet Evanovich, and I resolved all the loose ends that Janet Evanovich insists on leaving dangling! 

I found the entire experience satisfying. And 129,000 odd words later, so have the wonderful ladies I have met on some of the fan fiction boards. My little story took on a life of its own. I haven’t written much fiction, nothing that I can recall indeed since college.  This was a lot of fun. However, my quilting and scrapbooking have taken a long break while doing it. If you are interested in reading, the story is published at www.fanfiction.net/u/1166786/

This blog, on Blogger, was started in May of 2006.  I didn’t get too crazy with it, but here it is anyway….some fun photos, and a couple of cute stories.  I will be moving all my links over here; so far I think I like this place better anyway!!!

http://notes-from-the-refridgerator-door.blogspot.com/

It’s February. the second. How? I don’t really know, but somehow it seems I haven’t updated my blog since New Years Day. And blogger is being crotchety, so I decided to try someplace else……

so here I am!