On March 7, 1980

I got my "Baby Boy" flower.

Laura got her baby brother.

And we became a Foursome on Foursome Dr.

There were four generations

And we thanked God that we had a son.

On Jeff's birthday while he was in second grade he wrote this:
Happy Birthday Jeff!

*See more pictures from Jeff's life here.

Not endless: 1606 to present

March sure is a busy month.
At least for our family.

There is so much to celebrate!

On March 1st, we celebrate the day my husband's family got their property in Maryland.

From Lord Baltimore.

In 1673.

The property was named "Northhampton" and "Kettering".

Later Lord B. also handed over "Sprigg's Request". The gentleman pictured above, Thomas Spriggs (b. 1630, d. 1704) built a house on the thousand acres, and named it "Resurrection Manor."

George Washington used to drop by, in later years, and later still, President Madison hid out there while the British burned the White House.

Here's a picture of how the house looked until it a fire destroyed it in the early 1900's:

On March 2nd we celebrate the anniversary of my family's immigration to America.
That would be March 2nd, 1633, arriving at Richmond Island, in New England in the Massachusetts area. That was another Thomas, the one I call my Thomas.
Thomas Dustin (b. 1606 d.1662)

On March 7th we celebrate our son's birthday, he being the 12th generation of Spriggs in America. Thirteenth generation of Americans on my side of the family. (well, OK, one of those generations slipped up and was born in Canada...)

We remember the Indian raid on March 15th.
(Stay tuned! More details coming soon!)

Then there is the anniversary of when we became engaged, on March 23rd.

And of course, there was the scalpings, to be celebrated on March 30th.

Like I said: Busy, busy, busy.

On my "To Do" list for March is to re-copy our family Genealogy from the tattered 15 generation pedigree chart I've been lugging around for the last decade or so. It was done in pencil, as I was researching all the names, and wanted to verify names, places and dates before inking them in.

There are over 300 names. I started with 50. The research was addictive, exhilerating, and took decades.

Re-copying the names is going to take a while. But it is worth it.

Every name is a name of someone we would call either Mom or Dad, or Grandpa or Grandma. Some of those Grandmas and Grandpas would require eleven "greats" to be uttered before hitting the Grandma or Grandpa part.

But I think that is pretty great.

Who are all these people, pt.II

These people above are the Brosnans. I've already written about them in another posting way back when. The seated man in the corner is my great grandfather Corneilus Brosnan, either born in Ireland or born in NY to Irish emigrants. The census report vary...being Irish born wasn't something to brag about back then.

If you enjoy using paperclips, you can thank him. He held the US patent for the paper clip. If you don't believe me, just google Google Patents, and put in Cornelius J. Brosnan.

Anyway, that's part of the Irish gang listed over on the side bar. The Sullivans are from Bernie's side, the rest are the ancestors names of Cornelius and his wife, Margaret Mears. The woman seated in the center is my dad's mom. The lady on the far left with the rose at her waist was a milliner, and I own one of the hat's that she created.

But actually, I want to use this post to introduce some of the folks now listed on my side bar links.

Around Town Houston is a quirky picture blog done by a Houston police officer. He, Jason, just takes pictures of stuff he sees that strikes his interest. Sometimes I enjoy trying to see the world through other people's eyes, and their camera provides a venue to do just that. Near as I can tell from his other blog, Cigars, coffee, doughnuts, where he writes, he is married to a loving wife, has a couple of kids, and a few cats. His language can be a bit raw, so that part isn't a direct link from my site.

oncRN is another blog that helps me see the world through someone else eyes, except in this blog, the writer, a nurse who works with cancer patients only uses words to portray her world. Sometimes she shakes me to the core of my being. Sometimes I feel like I am on holy ground when I read what she writes...powerful stuff. My daughter is also an oncology nurse. It helps me understand a bit about Laura's world too.

Rantings of a Mad Hatter Wannabe is written by a woman who is currently living in Spain, and is indeed a milliner wanna be. She's doing great research into the field, creating in felt, and if you like millinery, it's a good blog to visit.

The Sewist also is a millinery junkie. She is a fine rambler, that is, she writes amusingly about hat that she finds in various electronic settings. I usually immediately covet the hat she posts, but am learning that sometimes just being able to look at the hat is enough.

And just as an added treat...a nice profile shot of Gayle modeling in the purple hat I made awhile ago. It looks awful on me...and I think great on her.

I'm sure this hat will belong to someone else someday.
I wonder who.

And another extra treat...some of the hat wearing ladies in Sue's living room.

There ought to be daffodils

Today is Barbara's birthday.
She is both my mother-in-law, and friend. Lucky me!
Last year we were together on her birthday, and the year before that Laura, Barbara and I celebrated her day together, just us girls, in Scotland.

This year I will make do by calling her on her birthday to celebrate, and hope the gift we sent her arrived on time.
Her day of her birth was actually March 3, 1930.
3-3-30.
Easy to remember.

For her 50th birthday, I gave her a gift four days late:
A grandson named Jeff.
Jeff was her third grandson, but the first with the family last name.
That counts for something, I think.
Beginning in early March, when the kids were still at home, we would watch for daffodils blooming in my garden.
One year I had planted 300!
What a feast for the eyes that was!

Every morning Jeff would go outside and tell me how many daffodils were blooming.
Daffodils being the birth flower symbol for the month of March, they seemed to be announcing that his big day was soon to arrive.

Funny how that works. I was born in April, and my mom remembers the cherry trees blossoms falling while she was carrying me. I remember the periwinkle blue jacaranda blossoms falling on my car while I carried my daughter Laura.

While Laura's birth flower is larkspur, (July), the more consistent flower to bloom around her birthday was the belladona lilly, also known as "Naked Ladies" because the bell shaped flowers bloom atop a long stalk with nary a single leaf to provide a dressing around the floral event.
We haven't had any luck with daffodils here in Texas. Occasionally I see a white variety blooming here and there.
But they just don't do well in the heavy clay soil of our area.

Sometimes you just have to make do.

Instead of watching for yellow daffodils at this time of year, I now look forward to the exuberant blooms of the Carolina Jessamine.

The fence on the north side of our house is draped with the Jessamine vine. We can see it from our sun room/TV room/office area through the plantation shutters.

Such a lovely southern feeling to see flowers all abloom through heavy white shutters!

The breeze travels through our narrow side yard with the jessamine on the fence, and with its passing it captures the fragrance of the flower, which delightfully mimics the scent of daffodils.

Isn't that wonderful?

Carolina Jessamine does grow wild here. Or wildly I should say.

When we first moved here I was puzzled to see the forests of Loblolly pines covered in yellow blossoms.

I was pretty sure pine trees didn't have yellow flowers...but being Texas and all, it is always wise to plan on being surprised.

The surprise was that the Carolina Jessamine vine grew up all the trees and was merrily playing tricks on me. Pine trees, with yellow flowers indeed.

I will always think of Jeff and Barbara whenever I see daffodils. But for today, Carolina Jessamine will have to do.

And their blossoms are so abundant, I will not try to count them, but instead just enjoy.

Please enjoy taking a walk with me today.

There is a custom call "Looking for the leading edge of Spring", or Primavera, where you look to document signs of spring.

I took the walk yesterday, and posted the signs here.

If you select slide show, and put the display speed at 3 seconds per picture, the "walk" should take you a little under three minutes.

You won't burn any calories on this walk, but I promise, it will put your mood into great shape!

Recipes: Have you ever made....

I'll bet you haven't.

I'm even willing to bet everything I own that not one person reading this is planning to surprise your family with the following treat for dinner tonight.

Now you should already be aware that it is Rodeo season here in Houston.
Which means it is time once again for meal time creativity involving the Four Major Rodeo Food Groups:

1. Sugar
2. Dough
3. Grease
4. Brown

(The above list is taken from our local paper, the Houston Chronicle. Don't you wish you could trudge out on your wet lawn every morning to get a copy at your place?)

A couple of years ago there was a big flapadoodle about Rodeo Houston's Deep Fried Snickers Bars.

Followed by the still highly popular Deep Fried Twinkies.
At 425 calories per, and 34 fat grams, it is a blue-eyed bargain at only $3.50

Of course healthy minded folks can get Smoked Turkey Leg, a twenty ounce item from a (I can't even imaging) sized turkey.
One leg and a family of four is fed. Done and done.

I had adjusted my Southern California Sushi powered brain to accept all these items as legitimate food, at least during Rodeo Season.

But then there was today.

Ah, but for today, I would probably still be able to think through difficult questions, and create complex designs.

Instead, I carelessly read the Chronicle.

And learned about the latest and the greatest Rodeo Houston pop food.

Are you ready for this?

Have you thought all the thoughts you want to think for the rest of the day?

OK then.

Here it is:

Deep-Fried Frozen Coca-Cola

Here's the recipe:

First you freeze the Coke and then crush it into little pieces.
Then you drop the pieces into batter, and then you deep-fry it.
When it comes out of the fryer, you splash on pure Coke syrup or chocolate syrup or strawberry syrup.

"It looks like squiggly fried clams and tastes like hot, greasy, doughy Coke."

Did I or did I not win that bet?

And how goofed up did my brain stay after reading this?

Well, I went and bought this:

Yup, a bag of multi-colored cotton candy, that was advertised to look like little bunny cotton tails.

Actually, it came out looking more like this:

(There's an Anna Nicole joke in here somewhere....if only I could just think....)

Anyway, I had fun. Did you know if you push your tongue up against the cotton candy where the yellow meets the blue it turns the candy GREEN?

How cool is that?

You don't even need to ask.

I tried all the color combinations.

Yellow and pink made orange.

Blue and pink made purple

Sigh.

How fun.

I just love colors!

So tell me; what are you making for dinner tonight?

Any ideas?

Hi Mom! Hi Dad! Hi Kids!

Oh what the heck. My family misses me, so here's a picture for them of me in the brand new scarf.

I just got home from a shift at the library, so my hair is pulled back into a nice librarian bun.

Love you!

Wearing of the Green, Orangemen, Peace and Grandmas

Well, the weatherman here says our March will be coming in like a lamb. Mild temperatures, and some rain, and mercifully, some cooling.

If it doesn't cool soon, my pansies are going to be cooked. There is only so much I can do to tweak their environment by tucking ice cubes around their little toes every day.

It IS starting to rain, and the trees outside are swaying in the wind. Around here, the trees have already begun to re-leaf. Spring has sprung in Kingwood, regardless of the calendar's notations.

I'm up for the whole March thing. Today is my college chum/MOH's birthday. (Hi Jennifer! How's April this morning? Did you go for a frosty ride yet?) April is her horse, and Jennifer raised horses while I raised children. I'm not sure which adventure was cheaper, but at least her little girl April is there with her on her birthday.

I've changed my side bar to show green hats, so if you need inspirations for avoiding a pinch later on this month, go ahead and take a peek. Why not wear a green hat this year? You're likely to get a kiss for your efforts, or maybe a fun little pinch from your someone special. (wink!)

Spring always makes me feel giddy and alive. But I realize I am called to be serious and sober minded in all things, as part of my Christian faith, so let me begin by pointing out that for years there has been trouble in Ireland between those of the Catholic faith, called "Green" and those of the Protestant faith, otherwise known as "Orangemen."

Thankfully, much progress has been made recently to create a state of peace in that troubled land. For that, I am truly thankful.

Now around here, it's another story.

My Mom recently sent, like all good grandmothers do, something in the mail for her "grands" amusement. In this case, it was to her grandcats, Tiggie and Hart. Neatly folded up in an envelope was dried catnip leaves from her garden. Isn't that sweet?

Don't all of us Mothers know what happens when children receive new toys?

Of course you do.

They fight over them.

Humans, cats...not so different.

I gave our Orangeman Tiggie three leaves configured as clover to celebrate the new month.
At first it went pretty well.He thought about it.Took a couple of "nips" of the nip... And then, oh dear, a fight broke out between the Orange Cat and the (Greeneyed) Grey Cat.

Tiggie said Hart was trying to steal his catnip.

Hart said he didn't touch Tiggie's catnip, he was just looking at it.

I don't think the UN should get involved.

But remember, as much as it is up to you, try to live in peace.

And don't mess with cats who are nipping their catnip!

My Colors

I've always, always, always been fascinated by color. A big box of crayons, paper and time is all that is needed to make me happy.

Yesterday I had a gift certificate to use down at Nordies. It's an hour drive from my home to go there, so I don't usually haunt the place. Plus the piano music played on the baby grand on the ground floor drives me insane. I need to concentrate when shopping in an environment where everything seems to have three or more digits in the price (before the "dot" indicating the cents.)

Nordies majors on black and white clothing. The majority of people on the planet look fabulous wearing black and white, so that is a smart marketing move on their part.

Asians, Blacks, Hispanics, Canadians (whoops, maybe not all Canadians...) all seem to have dark hair and dark eyes. Perfect for those high contrast colors. Add a splash of deep red, blue, purple or grey and Katie bar the door, Snow White has arrived, looking just grand.

I can not compete with their glorious coloring. I felt a little better after reading that Meryl Streep was described as having porcelain skin as she was photo'd for the Oscars. That sounds so much nicer than pale.
Or even washed out, which is how I am usually described. All that has changed; I too now have a porcelain complexion.

Even though I may navigate around my bland coloring via semantics, black and white and other saturated primary colors still overwhelm my appearance. Pastels make me appear as though I am recovering from a bout of the flu. This was a such a puzzle to me. The only colors I ever felt alive in were lime green, peachy pink and turquoise. You see those colors all the time in department stores. (Not!)

Back in the 1980's there was a big to-do about having your colors done. I turned out to look best in Spring colors. Imagine the flowers in a Springtime photo shoot, and you've nailed it. My mom, my husband and son have coloring that looks great in Summer colors. Imagine the misty blues and pinks, greys and lavenders of a dawn on a lake and you've got it. Other friends are winter, imagine a walk through snow, with bare trees etched in black, and rainbows of colors sparkling up from the snow, and you have the image of those colors. I've met few a Autumns, but imagining a walk in a flaming autumn forest, and you are there.

After trudging the Nordie store I was feeling pretty down. Until I saw the fish above. One of four fish that swim on a lovely lime green silk background on a wonderful scarf that called out to me: "Jill, I'm over here! It's US! We belong to each other!"

I was ecstatic! I wanted to wrap the scarf around myself and dance. ( Thankfully the piano player was taking a break!)

Bernie's face lit up when I showed him my find that evening. "It's perfect. It's you!"

Signature colors just feel great. The scarf goes with so many things in my closet, and rescues me from the "I'm being buried" feeling that comes when I wear serious business colors like black and navy.

What are your signature colors? The ones that make you feel great, and that other's always think of you when they see?
I'll bet you lime green isn't one of them (Kate, you are excluded from this comment.)

WWMD?: An Open Letter to Mommy Bloggers (Or: Time For Another One of Jill's Reactions. Take cover...)

Dear Young First Time Mommy Who Blogs;

Let me begin by expressing my profound delight in being allowed the privilege of reading about your adorable new baby. Your babe is truly a miracle, and the wonder and awe that you so rapturously express, both verbally and visually, within your blog, is a delightful miracle as well.

I congratulate you on your skillful management of your household, which has afforded you the time needed to take to your keyboard and openly share your unfolding adventure in the fascinating world known as motherhood.

How well I remember the early days and weeks of first time motherhood, when every moment of time was precious. I appreciate the sacrifice you make to keep the world updated upon the domestic bliss found in your new role as a mother.

When I was a new mommie, a few decades ago, blogging was a miracle yet to be realized. Instead of electronically sharing the details of my new life as a mommy with family and friends at a distance, I made do by taking part in a young mothers group at our church.

As young women became mothers, we would begin attending a Friday morning two hour study and prayer time, during which we bonded as friends, and shared our joys and our frustrations as we purposed to be the best mommies possible to the little bundles that heaven had so richly bestowed upon us.

It was fascinating to hear how labor went, and encouraging to know that other children had sleep schedule mix-ups, rashes, and colic. We shared and prayed our way through teething, digestive upsets, marital re-adjustments, childproofing, and potty training.

Our second born offspring were equally interesting...who knew two children born to the same parents could be so very different? The proud mother's of laid back first borns were shocked to discover that it wasn't their skills as a mother that made it all so easy, but rather the first baby was easy, unlike their household's second born terror.

By the time the third child arrived, the mommies became "old hands" at all of this, and generally stopped attending the Young Mother sessions. I had the privilege of leading this group for a few years, and recall many discussions of young mothers along the lines of "needing the older mothers to do their part and help us!"

It was arranged that some "older" mothers (mothers of teenagers to be exact...) would come to one of our meetings. The questions of the young mothers, babe at the breast, were pressing:

How do you get the baby to sleep through the night?
How do you get the baby potty trained?
How do you get the baby to stop biting other kids?

The questions went on and on.

I still recall Margie, a woman about eight years older than myself, her children approaching the teenage years, laughing hysterically, and saying something along the lines of :

"Trust me, you'll figure it out, and when you do, your kid will come up with a new behavior that will drive you crazy. This will continue the rest of your mothering life. Get used to it. Come on ladies, let's go out for lunch."

And the older mothers, for the most part, at that point got up and left.

How wise they were.

We really were able (gifted, actually) with the ability to solve the unique issues of each of our children, usually exactly at the same moment that said children cropped up with an even more vexing behavior.

And Margie was right, this vexing did (and does) continue the rest of our mothering life. I hear from eighty year old mothers who are just now learning how to relax in the challenges presented by their fifty year old children.

Nowadays "Young Mothers" connect and share via blogs. Having friends scattered around the globe is no barrier to sharing the joys and trials of young motherhood. How wonderful for your generation! The ability to gather hints and ideas from others while formulating your own modes and methods of mothering is very useful. What a blessing.

But I feel a strong need to gently speak a warning. While some young blogging mothers fear cyberstalkers, and have taken the precaution of making their blogs "by invitation only", let me suggest another consideration to be pondered before you freely share your mothering experiences in any form or anywhere in blogdom.

Your closest family and friends are eager to read about your new baby. They will remember the picture of your sleeping infant gesturing in fanciful or bizarre configurations, and will laugh with you at that rakish bit of humor. They will do their best to stomach your detailed description of the color, texture, and aroma of what your infant produced as an end product of digestion. Even if you later chose to delete your post that showed your cherub in disarray, you will not be able to delete the image from the minds of those who enjoyed your sharing.

I still can recall a madcap story that a dear friend told about her baby Rachel. Adorable baby Rachel experienced a digestive malfunctions that overwhelmed diaper absorption capabilities while being strollered through the finest department store in our area.

Baby Rachel is now Dr. Rachel
It happens. Babies do grown up. A couple of the Young Mother's Group children have become doctors, ministers, college professors, teachers, nurses and other exalted figures within society.

Sadly, when the glory that is Dr. Rachel is spoken of by her mother, my mind meanders back to the previous mental image so richly first created via her mother's detailed description decades ago when Dr. Rachel was still in diapers.

It's not just me. To this day, some fifty years later, my mom tells everyone who will listen that she always thinks of Richard Whitney, (who is now a judge), as the little kid running around with droopy diapers.

No matter how high of status anyone obtains in life, someone will always be there to recall your most demeaning circumstance.

The award winning author Dave Barry wrote a masterfully send up of a young parent's journals in his book Babies and Other Hazards of Sex.
He wrote:

"Baby Albums:

Baby albums are probably the single biggest cause of violent death in America today. The reason is that when people have their first baby, they record everything that happens:

January 5-Today Rupert is exactly one and one half weeks old! He weighs 8 pounds, 3.587 ounces, up 2.342 ounces from yesterday! He had two poopy diapers today, but definitely not as runny as the ones he had January 3! Also not quite so greenish!

And so on. By the time these people have their second baby, they're sick of albums. Oh they try to slap something together, but it's obvious that their hearts aren't really in it:

1966-1974: Byron was born and is now in second grade.

So Byron grows up, seemingly normal on the outside, but knowing on the inside that he has this pathetic scrawny album while his brother's looks like the Manhattan telephone directory, and eventually he runs amok in a dentist's office with a Thompson sub machine gun. So if you want to do a baby album, fine, go ahead, but have the common decency to notify the police first."

(Note the dates Barry ascribes to this imaginary journal. I'm waiting for his updated send-up of Mommy bloggers.)

I'm pretty sure that Mommie bloggers don't need to notify the police if they wish to detail every minute excretion their child produces, and verify the exactness of their verbal description with a digital photograph. Barry is just exaggerating for fun!

(And yes, lucky for all of us, I am not inserting a link to the mommy blog described above. You are welcome.)

What I would like Mommy Bloggers to consider is the effect their blogs will have on their child's future. Imagine, if you please, that your child, as you naturally are expecting will happen, becomes famous, or important, or (pray not) a cautionary example of failure.

Try to remember this as you write and post:

People remember.

And what they remember can not be deleted. Your humorous story about what did or didn't happen in the diaper, or at the breast, or whatever might not be what your child will appreciate having everyone share with him/her in the future.

This sharing may even occur in the somewhat immediate future when children begin to talk. Imagine what an older cousin, over hearing talk about newly born cousin's antics, will be able to share later, using that unflattering story against your child in a group setting at a later date.

All mothers have a favorite subject: Their children. Blessed is the mother who learns early on to edit what they share about what their children did, and what they thought about what their children did.

US President Jimmy Carter had a mother who went by the name of Miss Lillian. She had four children including a famous beer guzzler son named Billy, a woman evangelist daughter, and of course the President.

In one interview, following her description of her children and their very public adventures and miscues, she was famously quoted as saying;

"Sometimes when I look at all my children I say to myself, "Lillian, you should of stayed a virgin.""

The political enemies of President Carter enjoyed having that statement on record. I can not imagine how Jimmy Carter, the person, felt about having that observation in the mind of all that he met. Who knows how many "stories" about Little Jimmy growing up were recalled to undermine his governmental authority. How sad that Miss Lillian was not watchful to practice restraint from the earliest days of her motherhood.

Naturally, one of the joys of blogging is that you CAN and SHOULD say whatever you would like on your own blog. As a librarian, I fight for every writer's right to do so, even when I sometimes think what is written is revolting. I also fight for the right of readers to speak their mind about what they have read.

As a reader, I am going to suggest an idea that may assist an overly enthusiastic blogging mommy from drifting into areas that may not be tasteful, or in the best interest of the child:

Whenever you blog, before you hit "publish" think "What Would Mary Do?"

WWMD?

Mary, The Mother of the Most Remarkable Child EVER born upon this earth.
Surely she should have been given the right to express every detail of her experience as a first time mommy to Jesus.
But instead of writing or talking about every detail, she chose instead to "pondered these things in her heart."

Jesus, fully human, must have been as all other infants born upon the earth. Had Mary the option of blogging, would we have be privy to baby Jesus' diaper load color, texture, and odor? Pictures of Him on the potty? Her moments of hormonal mood swing?

I think not.

Mommy Bloggers, we love you and your baby.

But please, next time you write, would you just take a moment and ask yourself before you hit that publish button:

WWMD?

And occasionally chose to be like Mary, and ponder your baby's less flattering moments only within your own heart.

It's gonna be another one of those Mondays.

You know it's gonna be another one of those Mondays when:

• You get up and make coffee, then can't find your husband. You remember (after leaving a cup of coffee on his desk) that he said he had to go somewhere this morning, but can't remember where or for how long. He could be five states away right now, or just taking a walk.

Note to self: Make notes about where B. says he's going to be.

• Reading the front page of the paper (I decided not to worry about B. unless I get a ransom note...) and finding the word dang used smack dab in the middle of the page, under a picture of rearing white horses pulling a carriage. The complete sentence:

"It ain't going to be an easy deal to win, but it's going to be a fun deal. And whoever wins dang sure will deserve it."

Note to self: Avert eyes, ignore basic grammar structure until rodeo is over.

• Below the above mentioned article is a story about a Houston woman who in her early 50's decided to stop being a couch potato, by testing her limits by running a marathon AND beginning to pursue her doctorate degree. Actually, more specifically, run a marathon on each of the continents. Right now, she is off and and running in Antarctica. She's dodging hostile leopard seals as she goes, running around two kinds of penguin rookeries and continuing her studies via satellite hook up each evening.

Note to self: Remember, you do not want to work on your doctorate, and you certainly do not want to run where there are leopard seals waiting to eat you.

• The society section covered the Oscar awards. Best Supporting Actress Jennifer Hudson wore a lovely Oscar de la Renta gown,(with a lizard capelet no less...) and the paper commented: "Unfortunately, she kept putting her hands in the pockets of the gown."

Note to self: Write Erin over at Dressaday. Her "pocket in every dress" campaign is working big time...but I still am not sure formal gowns ought to have pockets. Something to think about.

• There is a dead baby English sparrow on the patio. Both cats claim they had nothing to do with it.

Note to self: The cats are grounded.

Duh!

Another one of those on-line tests.

You Are an Excellent Cook

You're a top cook, but you weren't born that way. It's taken a lot of practice, a lot of experimenting, and a lot of learning. It's likely that you have what it takes to be a top chef, should you have the desire...

Are You A Good Cook?

The thing is, I only like to cook as a creative exercise. Not to feed hungry people. Never make anything twice is my motto.

Now if I could just pay attention while I am cooking instead of wandering off to check email and stuff while the pot is coming to a boil.

I darn near about burned the house down Friday when I was hard boiling some eggs.

Boiled that pot dry and the eggs were exploding inside.

What a mess.

What a smell!

This losing my mind thing is a real drag.

WWMD?: An Open Letter to Mommy Bloggers (Or: Time For Another One of Jill's Reactions. Take cover...)

Dear Young First Time Mommy Who Blogs;

Let me begin by expressing my profound delight in being allowed the privilege of reading about your adorable new baby. Your babe is truly a miracle, and the wonder and awe that you so rapturously express, both verbally and visually, within your blog, is a delightful miracle as well.

I congratulate you on your skillful management of your household, which has afforded you the time needed to take to your keyboard and openly share your unfolding adventure in the fascinating world known as motherhood.

How well I remember the early days and weeks of first time motherhood, when every moment of time was precious. I appreciate the sacrifice you make to keep the world updated upon the domestic bliss found in your new role as a mother.

When I was a new mommie, a few decades ago, blogging was a miracle yet to be realized. Instead of sharing electronically sharing the details of my new life as a mommy with family and friends at a distance, I made do by taking part in a young mothers group at our church.

As young women became mothers, we would begin attending a Friday morning two hour study and prayer time, during which we bonded as friends, and shared our joys and our frustrations as we purposed to be the best mommies possible to the little bundles that heaven had so richly bestowed upon us.

It was fascinating to hear how labor went, and encouraging to know that other children had sleep schedule mix-ups, rashes, and colic. We shared and prayed our way through teething, digestive upsets, marital re-adjustments, childproofing, and potty training.

Our second born offspring were equally interesting...who knew two children born to the same parents could be so very different? The proud mother's of laid back first borns were shocked to discover that it wasn't their skills as a mother that made it all so easy, but rather the first baby was easy, unlike their household's second born terror.

By the time the third child arrived, the mommies became "old hands" at all of this, and generally stopped attending the Young Mother sessions. I had the privilege of leading this group for a few years, and recall many discussions of young mothers along the lines of "needing the older mothers to do their part and help us!"

It was arranged that some "older" mothers (mothers of teenagers to be exact...) would come to one of our meetings. The questions of the young mothers, babe at the breast, were pressing:

How do you get the baby to sleep through the night?
How do you get the baby potty trained?
How do you get the baby to stop biting other kids?

The questions went on and on.

I still recall Margie, a woman about eight years older than myself, her children approaching the teenage years, laughing hysterically, and saying something along the lines of :

"Trust me, you'll figure it out, and when you do, your kid will come up with a new behavior that will drive you crazy. This will continue the rest of your mothering life. Get used to it. Come on ladies, let's go out for lunch."

And the older mothers, for the most part, at that point got up and left.

How wise they were.

We really were able (gifted, actually) with the ability to solve the unique issues of each of our children, usually exactly at the same moment that said children cropped up with an even more vexing behavior.

And Margie was right, this vexing did (and does) continue the rest of our mothering life. I hear from eighty year old mothers who are just now learning how to relax in the challenges presented by their fifty year old children.

Nowadays "Young Mothers" connect and share via blogs. Having friends scattered around the globe is no barrier to sharing the joys and trials of young motherhood. How wonderful for your generation! The ability to gather hints and ideas from others while formulating your own modes and methods of mothering is very useful. What a blessing.

But I feel a strong need to gently speak a warning. While some young blogging mothers fear cyberstalkers, and have taken the precaution of making their blogs "by invitation only", let me suggest another consideration to be pondered before you freely share your mothering experiences in any form or anywhere in blogdom.

Your closest family and friends are eager to read about your new baby. They will remember the picture of your sleeping infant gesturing in fanciful or bizarre configurations, and will laugh with you at that rakish bit of humor. They will do their best to stomach your detailed description of the color, texture, and aroma of what your infant produced as an end product of digestion. Even if you later chose to delete your post that showed your cherub in disarray, you will not be able to delete the image from the minds of those who enjoyed your sharing.

I still can recall a madcap story that a dear friend told about her baby Rachel. Adorable baby Rachel experienced a digestive malfunctions that overwhelmed diaper absorption capabilities while being strollered through the finest department store in our area.

Baby Rachel is now Dr. Rachel
It happens. Babies do grown up. A couple of the Young Mother's Group children have become doctors, ministers, college professors, teachers, nurses and other exalted figures within society.

Sadly, when the glory that is Dr. Rachel is spoken of by her mother, my mind meanders back to the previous mental image so richly first created via her mother's detailed description decades ago when Dr. Rachel was still in diapers.

It's not just me. To this day, some fifty years later, my mom tells everyone who will listen that she always thinks of Richard Whitney, (who is now a judge), as the little kid running around with droopy diapers.

No matter how high of status anyone obtains in life, someone will always be there to recall your most demeaning circumstance.

The award winning author Dave Barry wrote a masterfully send up of a young parent's journals in his book Babies and Other Hazards of Sex.
He wrote:

"Baby Albums:

Baby albums are probably the single biggest cause of violent death in America today. The reason is that when people have their first baby, they record everything that happens:

January 5-Today Rupert is exactly one and one half weeks old! He weighs 8 pounds, 3.587 ounces, up 2.342 ounces from yesterday! He had two poopy diapers today, but definitely not as runny as the ones he had January 3! Also not quite so greenish!

And so on. By the time these people have their second baby, they're sick of albums. Oh they try to slap something together, but it's obvious that their hearts aren't really in it:

1966-1974: Byron was born and is now in second grade.

So Byron grows up, seemingly normal on the outside, but knowing on the inside that he has this pathetic scrawny album while his brother's looks like the Manhattan telephone directory, and eventually he runs amok in a dentist's office with a Thompson sub machine gun. So if you want to do a baby album, fine, go ahead, but have the common decency to notify the police first."

(Note the dates Barry ascribes to this imaginary journal. I'm waiting for his updated send-up of Mommy bloggers.)

I'm pretty sure that Mommie bloggers don't need to notify the police if they wish to detail every minute excretion their child produces, and verify the exactness of their verbal description with a digital photograph. Barry is just exaggerating for fun!

(And yes, lucky for all of us, I am not inserting a link to the mommy blog described above. You are welcome.)

What I would like Mommy Bloggers to consider is the effect their blogs will have on their child's future. Imagine, if you please, that your child, as you naturally are expecting will happen, becomes famous, or important, or (pray not) a cautionary example of failure.

Try to remember this as you write and post:

People remember.

And what they remember can not be deleted. Your humorous story about what did or didn't happen in the diaper, or at the breast, or whatever might not be what your child will appreciate having everyone share with him/her in the future.

This sharing may even occur in the somewhat immediate future when children begin to talk. Imagine what an older cousin, over hearing talk about newly born cousin's antics, will be able to share later, using that unflattering story against your child in a group setting at a later date.

All mothers have a favorite subject: Their children. Blessed is the mother who learns early on to edit what they share about what their children did, and what they thought about what their children did.

US President Jimmy Carter had a mother who went by the name of Miss Lillian. She had four children including a famous beer guzzler son named Billy, a woman evangelist daughter, and of course the President.

In one interview, following her description of her children and their very public adventures and miscues, she was famously quoted as saying;

"Sometimes when I look at all my children I say to myself, "Lillian, you should of stayed a virgin.""

The political enemies of President Carter enjoyed having that statement on record. I can not imagine how Jimmy Carter, the person, felt about having that observation in the mind of all that he met. Who knows how many "stories" about Little Jimmy growing up were recalled to undermine his governmental authority. How sad that Miss Lillian was not watchful to practice restraint from the earliest days of her motherhood.

Naturally, one of the joys of blogging is that you CAN and SHOULD say whatever you would like on your own blog. As a librarian, I fight for every writer's right to do so, even when I sometimes think what is written is revolting. I also fight for the right of readers to speak their mind about what they have read.

As a reader, I am going to suggest an idea that may assist an overly enthusiastic blogging mommy from drifting into areas that may not be tasteful, or in the best interest of the child:

Whenever you blog, before you hit "publish" think "What Would Mary Do?"

WWMD?

Mary, The Mother of the Most Remarkable Child EVER born upon this earth.
Surely she should have been given the right to express every detail of her experience as a first time mommy to Jesus.
But instead of writing or talking about every detail, she chose instead to "pondered these things in her heart."

Jesus, fully human, must have been as all other infants born upon the earth. Had Mary the option of blogging, would we have be privy to baby Jesus' diaper load color, texture, and odor? Pictures of Him on the potty? Her moments of hormonal mood swing?

I think not.

Mommy Bloggers, we love you and your baby.

But please, next time you write, would you just take a moment and ask yourself before you hit that publish button:

WWMD?

And occasionally chose to be like Mary, and ponder your baby's less flattering moments only within your own heart.

Blue birds, grey cats and ribbons

Yesterday I got a whimsical comment about how I made hat trims from Becky. Of course I have bluebirds helping me with my hat trimming...I WAS a Blue Bird growing up! (Blue Birds was the youngest division of Camp Fire Girls back then.)

Actually, the only help I get as I make hat trim is the rhythmic snoring from our grey cat Hart, as he sacks out on the white chair in my hat room. He really does look good there with his little pink nose.

Anyway, for those of you who would like to create ribbon trim, may I suggest two books:

The Artful Ribbon by Candace Kling

A Passion for Ribbonry by Camela Nitschke

May I also suggest that you can usually get these titles on Ebay for around $5 USD a title? You can also get them on Amazon.com, and a lot of libraries carry the titles as well. I think they are worth owning though. Once you get the hang of sculpting flowers from ribbons, you can start creating any flower you see...I have done all the wild flowers of Texas for one hat.

Added bonus: All it takes is a needle, thread, small scissors, and ribbon, which usually fits into a small ziplock baggie. Perfect for taking along, so when you have to wait at a Doctor's office or for kids to finish their event, you can be whipping up flowers to decorate anything and everything.
People stop and talk with me while I am creating, and I often long to spend the day at arboretums creating from nature.

Enjoy your Sunday...it is sunny and beautiful here. We had coffee and juice out in the garden as we read the morning paper while the cardinals and titmouse serenaded us with their song. Bliss...my sympathy to all you out there stuck in the heavy snow and ice storms up North!

Sneak preview

From "cry uncle" to "this might work."

I got messing around with it last night, so this is just pin based.

I think I'm getting there.

Millinery Inspiration abounds as it so often does on misty humid days.

But Information trumps Inspiration, so off to work I go.

Have a fun Saturday. See you later!

Quick! Let's see a flick!

Quickflicks is a cool site where people who made movies posted (or exerps from them) for the public to enjoy free of charge. The project started a few years ago, before Youtube and Google Video and all that came on the scene.

I am recommending a ten minute "flick" from the Quickflicks page, called:
"What is it about Hats?: A documentary about life under the brim" by film maker and hat lover Andee Kinsey.

Andee filmed the documentary a few years back, in 2001, just before I "hooked up" with the Houston Hat Net and the Dallas Hat Band. The entire documentary is thirty minutes long and available from Amazon.com. I think the ten minute version is just wonderful, and the music is terrific!

Some of it is filmed in Houston, during a massive flooding tropical storm. New York and Dallas locations filled up the rest of the film.
I am proud to admit I know most of the Houston and Dallas folk.
The woman after the opening who talks is Nicole La Blanc, the millinery whose hat creations got me hooked on hats. She's the one who says "There is a hat for you."
The lady standing next to the woman in the gold and black hat, is Kate Pernia, my instructor. She's wearing a red hat.
Then there's the irrepressible Suzanne Silverman in the lavender hat, talking about her "chicken butt" hat. Suzanne is non-stop fun to be with.
The lady in a white hat with a black veil is Suzanne Larson. She is also a milliner. Her cousin, Bonita, the one I had lunch with at Victorian Elegance, is seen walking in a strapless sundress.

I know a few of the other ladies, but my poor feeble brain is wimping out on me in terms of matching a face with a name. I hope if they read this, they will understand.

To see the flick, just click on the icon that matches the hat at the beginning of this post on the Quickflicks site.

Enjoy!

PS: The flick "Angel's Day Off" is adorable too.

Let's get this party going!

Sometimes the fun never stops around here!
Rodeo Houston starts Friday, which means the Trail Riders are arriving today from all over the southwest. (Love the picture in that link of downtown Houston skyline!)

People yearly ride the old cattle drive trails throughout Texas, in covered wagons or horse back, RIGHT DOWN THE FREEWAY when needed.

The first time I was zooming along, late as usual to work, and was blocked by a bunch of horses and wagons, I thought I had lost my mind. Now I just know it's Rodeo season. All the trail riders wind up at Memorial Park, where they camp with their horses, and all attend Cowboy Church on Sunday, seated on bales of hay as they all sing "Shall we Gather at the River."

Time to dust off my pink cowgirl princess hat.
Last year I promised myself I would shop for pink cowgirl boot to go with my hat. Guess I'll have to get going on that, if I mean to keep my promise. Friday everyone in every office building downtown will be clad in western wear.
"Go Texas Day" is an official edict to wear western wear the first Friday of Rodeo season.
And let me tell you, some folks are not adverse to dropping a bundle on their attire.

And the menfolk in their boots, hats, western cut suits and black ribbon ties look mighty smart too.

Oh come on...every little girl had a crush on some cowboy at some time, right? My first crush was on Michael Landon, playing Little Joe Cartwright on the television series "Bonanza."

I was five years old, and was devastated when the program was moved to a time slot past my bedtime. It was on Sunday night, and I had to go to bed because I was now in Kindergarten.

(You know, Michael Landon still made my eyes twinkle when I was a great big grown up married lady. He was just cute, cute, cute, even playing "Pa" Engels, and a blooming Angel, for crying out loud!)

My mom never bought me a Princess outfit as a child. All my dress up play clothes were the clothes my great Aunt had worn to society event. Auntie Lorraine went to Columbia and USC, and later got a Master's degree. She was born in the late 1800's, and the clothes that I played in were her best velvet gowns from the 1930's. Explains a lot, don't you think?

I did receive one child size dress up outfit: A red cowgirl vest and skirt, complete with white fringe. Boy howdy, now there was fun! Packing a six shooter and running around La Jolla blowing bad guys away with a loud pop from the cap, creating realistic smoke and that tantalizing firecracker smell. The cap roll always ran out before the fun.

I might just have to go see if I can buy me a cap gun and caps today too. A little shot 'em up around the neighborhood might be fun. I could probably even enlist the "Our Gang Comedy" neighborhood boys, and Sunny the Dog to join in a little cowboy gun play.

Yee Haw! Post bail for me, would ya, if I get arrested?

Now all of you out there need to head on over to visit with another good cowgirl at heart. Drop by her place and say "howdy" tomorrow. Lovella's done gone and had herself another year, and she's fixin' to have her birthday on Friday. Y'all be sure to wish her a Happy Birthday when you stop on by her blogplace for a visit, ya hear?

Millinery: Eric Javits

Last Thursday it froze here. Today, it is in the low eighties.
Too hot to wear felt. Too soon to wear straw.
A felt hat, or a straw hat that is.

My mom had brought me a stunning black felt large upturned brim hat by millinery designer Eric Javits.

The brim is accented with velvet scroll work. Yummy...and sadly, oh so too hot to wear to work today.

It looked really wonderful with my new charcoal pantsuit. I decided to take it along anyway, as I had called in to work, and was informed that, as usual, that since it was hot outside, it was colder than a witch's er, um, mitt, in the library building.

I walked out of house, on time for once, to drive to the library. A forty five minute drive. The car was in the driveway, and baking hot inside. My husband had driven my car to the airport, as it was filthy, and I was using his nice clean sedan for squiring the ladies about during their visit.

I tossed my jacket and Eric Javits hat onto the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition, and surprise, nothing happened.

Dead battery.

Normally Bernie is home, but of course not this time. Our Triple A renew form was sitting on my desk. Our auto repair shop could assist me in about an hour.

Next door there was some construction work being done. English language radio blaring from the driveway gave me hope that I would find men who I could communicate with, who would help rescue me, the damsel in distress.

They would, but they didn't have a jumper cable. Just then the neighbor at the end of the street drove by, giving me a friendly wave. I flagged her down, and she graciously drove back to her home to retrieve some jumper cables from her garage.

The construction guy, (wearing an AWANA belt buckle no less, a para church organization that our family participates in) came over with his truck and we gave the jumper cables a go.

And it was a No-Go.

So I had to call the library and let them know I wouldn't be coming in to cover the shift of the woman who had colon cancer surgery.

The shift that I don't normally work, and that I agreed to work BEFORE I found out that today would have been the day that my millinery instructor/friend Kate would be visiting from Switzerland, and could work me in for a visit.

Doesn't that just kill ya?

Doesn't that fall under the category of "No good deed shall go unpunished"?

On the bright side: At least this didn't happen while we were up in Dallas!

So now I am changed into a tee shirt and casual, and awaiting Bernie to arrive home so we can decide what to do. I'm hoping a new battery will fix it, he suspects the alternator.

We'll see.

Either way, Eric Javits is going to have to wait for a more stylish occasion to be worn than a trip to the car repair shop.

At least while it is this hot.

June, June, and Victorian Elegance

What a lovely time we had!

My mom, June, (in the blue), and her friend June, (in the rust) flew from San Diego to Houston last Thursday, Feb. 15. I had to dash off to work almost immediately afterwards, but we did manage to dine on King Ranch Chicken (a chicken layered dish served all over Texas by fine cooks to the favorite guests.) Bernie had created a wonderful Sweet Potato pie for Valentine's Day, and I had picked up a King's Cake as well for their "Welcome to Texas" this visit dessert.

Friday morning we loaded up the car and drove to Dallas area, stopping on the way for barbecue beef sandwiches and a glass of sweet tea. I wanted to take them to
"The Ribbon Gardner"

in Arlington, a town outside of Dallas. Please take a look at their web link, especially the classes, as I didn't take pictures there.

It is an amazing ribbon shop, and it is up for sale.

The inventory is worth 1.3 million dollars, so if you have the cash and love ribbons, this might be your little slice of heaven on earth.

We pulled into Richardson, north of Dallas around six, and had dinner at the hotel with my cousin Pam, her husband Ellis, their daughter Kim and her husband Paul. Paul is currently enrolled at Dallas Theological Seminary, and I had not seen the couple since their wedding about four years ago.
The drive took us seven hours, so we were tuckered out and went to bed shortly afterward, in order to be up and ready for the Victorian Elegance 1930's era Style Show the next morning.

The show was FABULOUS!!!!

All of the dresses in the show, and the accessories were authentic 1930 era, and all were available for sale.

Oh to be a size {something tiny}

I took over seventy pictures of the Style show, and the Victorian Elegance show itself.

I can not bring myself to attempt to put that many pictures into this post, knowing how cantankerous posting pictures can be in my world for some inexplicable reason.

SO....

what I've done is put all the pictures into a web album!

Yes! You can see them all, one by one or in slide show format, and I have added comments to the pictures as well.

Just click HERE

(And yes, you SHOULD be envious of me and my mom and June.)
As I said earlier: It was fabulous!

(Make plans now to come visit me and go with me to the next show!)

After the style show was over we wandered around the Richardson Convention center looking at all the wonderful antiques.

For seven more hours.

Didn't see it all.

Whoa!

At lunch Bonita, a dear friend who is part of the Dallas Hat Band (a sister organization to the Houston Hat Net) was able to join us. Bonita (the seated blond in the black hat in the picture in the previous link) is a treasure, and this is the third time we have wandered this twice yearly show together. Words fail me, really, to describe Bonita. The best I can do is to say she is a one of a kind fun gal, who enjoys life to the fullest. You may enjoying peeking around the Dallas Hat Band pictures from other events, some of which I attended as well.

After lunch there was another presentation, this time about the costume designer Edith Head, and "The Celluloid Crepe Scandals", a paper being presented about costume forgery and authenticating costumes from motion pictures after the designer had pulled some rather sly moves back in the 1960's. A very authoritative and interesting lecture and power point presentation.

You know, for five dollars to get into the Victorian Elegance show, and a five dollar donation to charity to see the style show, I got more education about historic costuming than I did in college when for each HOUR I figured I was paying about $40 to attend.

That evening Mom, June and I headed over to "The Black Eyed Pea", a Texas based restaurant chain, where the mash potatoes are cooked fresh every hour, corn bread and honey comes with your meal, and June could get Black Eyed Peas AND Fried Okra AND Banana Pudding with Vanilla Wafers just like she enjoyed as a child as part of her heritage from her southern born father.

When we first moved to Texas, this local chain was visited weekly by us as we worked our way through Texas traditional foods. You might enjoy looking at the menu items on their web link. (Gosh, now I'm hungry again!)

All I can say is:

Good Food.
Go there if ever and whenever you can.

Sunday morning we slept in, then returned to the show. With a stamped card, we were able to attend the second day for free. June was smitten by the crazy quilt, while I succumbed to a book and an apron.

Mostly we had returned to the show on
Sunday in order to attend the Tasha Tudor presentation. Tasha Tudor has illustrated over seventy books, and is now 93 years old. She has released her collection of 1830 era dresses for auction this upcoming fall, and selected pieces of the collection was on display. Additionally there was a DVD presentation of her life.

Mom, June and I sat through the hour long presentation with our jaws dropped. What an amazing woman, what an amazing life, and what a unique individual.

May I recommend that if you have an opportunity, suggest to your local librarian that the first DVD on that above link be purchased for your local library collection. I can almost promise you that your library owns Tasha Tudor books, as she has won so many awards for her illustrations.

We finally pulled ourselves away from the Victorian Elegance show to attend an exhibit at Southern Methodist University in Dallas of Spanish fashion designer
Christobal Balenciaga designs, and other designers who were inspired by him. Be sure to click on each of the fours groupings when the link opens to see a representative collection of his works, as there were fifty dresses in the show, and at least that way you will get to see sixteen of them.

What a fantastic designer. The show goes through May, so if you are in Dallas, BE SURE to head over to SMU's Meadow Museum Gallery.

Then we drove three hours home.

Monday we lingered around the breakfast table, and enjoyed looking at the garden, then took a spin around Kingwood, exploring our garden center's pansy collection, (curly pansies!)

the local shops and the HEB grocery store, where the ladies enjoyed sampling MORE of our local cooking, as demonstrated in the in-store kitchen. Texas Pecans and King Cake was purchased to tote home to Southern California.

I had to work that evening (again....), but Tuesday morning we shared a nice breakfast and talked about life as it was when I was growing up and they were becoming friends.

Someday I hope to write a book about Mom and her friends, some of whom have been dear friends for almost fifty years now. The stories they have, and the times they have experienced as first young mothers, then grandmothers, and now some are even great grandmothers.

Wonderful stories so very worth telling.

I took Mom and June through a new model home a few miles from my house. It was so beautiful, with a formal area, dining room, breakfast room, huge kitchen, family room, game room, office, master suite, three upstairs bedrooms, AND a theater.

June thought it would have cost about 2 million USD.

She's lives in San Diego, and she is right, that house WOULD sell for 2 million there.

Here?

$270,000.

Oh yeah.

Sometimes it's fun to be here in Texas.

If I didn't have to say good bye to them at the airport, and know it will be months before we see each other again, living in Texas could almost be said to be perfect.
What a time we had.

June and Tiggie

My mom's friend June is a retired hairdresser to the most elegant people in La Jolla Society.
So of course, Tiggie of Kingwood requested her services.
June was willing to come out of retirement to meet this urgent request.
I don't believe I've ever seen Tiggie look so good.