I think I'm back....

Hiya.  Still with me?  I keep saying I'm coming back to blogging, and especially to reading and commenting on the delicious posts from my fellow bloggers... and then I disappear again. Oy! (an expression I learned from the kiwi grandbaby).  But I think I'm back.  I think I'm back.  You know, like the Little Train that Could.  Anyways, for the past six weeks, our house had been full of guests, and the vacuum cleaner had been stuffed with Cheerios that fell from the chubby fists of Miss fat and sassy.  Chasing a crumb cruncher around the house sure can make you feel young again--until the end of the day, that is, when you collapse into a middle-aged puddle of exhaustion.  Waaahh!  I really AM a granny.

Even sadder, all our dear visitors have flown back to their own nests and our dulce domum is very quiet.  I miss everyone, especially the baby.  Waaahh!  But, as my mother used to love to say, SPS (self-pity stinks).  Oy!

So, here are a couple of makey-makies I've been working on to help me snap out of it:

Homemade vanilla extract - how-to is here.  I have it on good authority that once you make this, you'll never go back to the store-bought kind.  My daughter-in-law makes her own.  I trust her taste and judgment.

Homemade 18th century style leaven - a very cool how-to is here

 Homemade red wine vinegar - a great way to re-purpose leftover red wine.  How-to is here. Supposedly it's so good that there's no comparison with store-bought.  We'll see.  In case you're wondering what that strange thing is sticking out of the wine bottle, it's a stopper made out of deer antler.  Eeep!  I love it.

Bye for now.  I hope to be back later this week with another post.  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

Come-a to my house - Guest Blogger: Rhys Lake

People are special. 

Our uniqueness; our individual personalities, passions and stories.

As a photographer, I am always inspired in meeting new people and having the opportunity to hear some of their personal journey. What drives them and gets them up in the morning.

Our homes are one such extension of how we view life. Our houses become homes when we fill them with pieces that mean something to us. We can point to pieces of furniture and seemingly meaningless items in our homes with a sense of excitement, thinking back to the time, place or person involved when we found them. Our homes, then, are one such way of expressing our style and journey.

Therefore, what a privilege it was, to have Curious Acorn, aka. Jodi Lenz, open her home and allow me to showcase it. I hope, as I'm sure she does also, that as you explore her home that you are inspired to express your style and journey in your own unique way.

Click here to take the tour.

O-bla-di, o-bla-da, life goes on, brah!... La la how the life goes on... O-bla-di, o-bla-da, life goes on, brah!... Lala how the life goes on. ~ The Beatles

A while back, my friend Linda sent balm in the form of a note.  She wrote, "I felt like the world had gone out of kilter when my mother died."  

Out of kilter. Yeah, that's how I've felt. I miss my mom.

I'm not going to pretend everything was hearts and roses between us. It wasn't, but still...

She'd sometimes, in an angry tone, tell me I looked just like her mother.

Sometimes on bad days she thought I was her mother.

 Mothers and daughters. *Sigh*

For my part, I didn't make it easy on her in my teen years, spitefully ringing Hell's bells.

But God...slipped in, changing the tone, changing history, changing everything. We learn to honor and bless. We did our best, she and I.  Grace. 

My own girl will be here in a few weeks with her fat and sassy baby girl.  Mothers and daughters.  It is good.  La la how the life goes on...

Back to work

“It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Thank you, friends, for the kind words regarding my mom. I'm slowly making my way back. Love you.  

Break

Dear blog friends, thank you for the anniversary wishes. I'll be back to visit all your lovely posts soon. My mom passed away on Monday morning after a brief illness. So I'll be taking a little break. My mom was a woman who loved you in her fashion. My favorite memory of her was in the 1960's, with her bouffant blonde hair. When dressing up, she wore a beige blazer and skirt with matching beige stiletto heels, and she smelled always of Chanel No. 5. When I was little, I used to steal her Oil of Olay face cream and rub it on my cheeks. I wanted to look like her because I thought she was so beautiful.

"And I would like to cry in the car. 

The blue violet hills and the voice of Neil Young. 

I left the flowers outside your door. 

Your curtains were flying 

Though you were not at home. 

And I can only say that I have hoped for you. 

Safety from fears and darkness 

Are you feeling better than before? 

There's a hidden life for everyone. 

Sorrow remains though you can tell no-one.

The Host on your tongue is a perfect moon.

It does shine inside you. 

You shine into the room. 

And I can only say that I have hoped for you. 

Safety from fears and darkness 

Are you feeling better than before? 

Down in the hallways in wintertime. 

There is your great kindness 

And you are the light. 

And I can only say that I have hoped for you. 

Safety from fears and darkness. 

Are you feeling better than before? 

And I can only say that I have hoped for you. 

Safety from fears and darkness Are you feeling better than before?"

~Karen Peris, "You Are the Light"

I do, I did, I would again

At a shower and watching a bride-to-be open her many gifts, my then-5-year-old daughter Joy turned to me and asked, "Did you get a lot of presents when you married Daddy?" "Yes." "Well, I think my Daddy is the best present you got." So right, sweetie. 31 years ago today, two clueless kids said "I do," and grew up together. We've been up and we've been down, and I'd do it all over again. Here's to many more years. Happy anniversary, Mister.

Book it

Take an old hardback book with an interesting cover and boring contents,

a jar of rubber cement, a pair of scissors, a pile of favorite recipes scribbled on loose leaf paper, shared by friends,

or quietly removed from magazines while sitting forever in a doctor's office *cough* (what?),

Now plant yourself in front of a favorite movie that you've watched a hundred times. Cut, paste, and whistle watch while you work

Here's where I digress. I bought this old postcard and pasted it into the flyleaf of the book in honor of the grandmother I lived with when I was a kid. The scene makes me nostalgic for her kitchen. The similarity is striking, right down to the mirror above the sink and the old wringer-style washing machine.

I recall the way she would flour the rim of a water glass to use for cutting biscuits, and the full glass bottle of Schlitz beer that made its noontime appearance on the kitchen table.

The yellow liquid gradually disappearing didn't hurt her ability to make amazing meals.

Seriously, that woman never left the kitchen--cooking us all three hot meals a day--which I totally did not appreciate when I was young.

Looking back, I do believe it was she who planted the love-of-cooking seed in my heart.

La la la, back to the book. Along with the cutting and pasting, add a little imagination, some collaging, and messing about with markers,

and you have a recipe for a recipe book. The End