Village People

 My grandmother did it, my Aunt Virginia did it,  my mother sort of does it, and my sister’s husband does it too (lucky her).  This year me and the kid did it and it didn’t turn out half bad.

Now if this idea came to your mind instantly as you saw the blog post….

well then you’re atleast as old as me.
Now go ahead,  knock these guys all you want..
but they knew how to entertain!
The Proof? ….
 I’m willing to bet you can sing along to more than one of their songs
and you’ve probably done the YMCA full body sign language more than once. 
Am I right or am I right? 
You at least tried it in the privacy of your own room, didn’t ya.
ANYWAY… that’s not what I’m posting about.
Snow Village, Department 56 in particular.
Here’s a peek at ours…

And if anyone knows where I might be able to find the
retired Village greenhouse, let me know.

It’s illuminating

 Something about them brings out the inner child in us all,
don’t you think?
 I don’t care what kind of a crappy mood you might be in
and it doesn’t matter the reason… 
If you’re out on a winters eve and you come across
a holiday light display, most often your spirits are lifted.
 Like the moment when Kris Kringle hands the Winter Warlock
 a toy choo choo, melting the ice around his heart…. 
..or when Linus wraps his beloved blanket around Charlie Browns
sad little tree and friends who shunned him earlier
gather round to sing.
The tree (and Charlie) flourishes in this act of love.
When I see a light display or holiday decorations,
I think of the people who live inside the house.
Clearly, such an outward expression of joy means
 there is joy within, and it’s meant to be shared.
When there is no sign of celebration,
 no wreath on the door or holiday lights or candles
 in the window, I get the feeling there is sadness.
Now THESE folks must be oozing  joy….(or booze, could be that)

This is my favorite…
I’de love to recreate it but can you imagine the work?
The expense! 
My grandmother had a white christmas tree for years.
Sometimes it was decorated with all red ornaments
 and tinsel and poinsettia
and once  it was an ocean of blue.
Sounds tacky but let me tell you…
it was beautiful.
These trees aren’t exactly traditional, but they are extraordinary.
If I could only find those STARS….
 Today we’re planning what kind of joy we’ll be spreading around outside
 This Old House.
At the moment you can’t appreciate the irony of that statement
 because you’re not here.  
The teen and I are setting up the snow village.
This post is my coffee break, because I needed one badly.
 Apparently I have forgotten everything I ever knew
and he has found what I must have dropped on the floor
and multiplied it by all the smarts any adult has ever accumulated.
 Quick, ask him something, whatever it is,
while he still knows everything! 
Just for gawds sake don’t give your own opinion
 because I’ll warn you now
 you’re already wrong.
 I’m  off  to the hardware store
 to order 10,000 more sets of lights,
cause that’s what it’s gonna take.
*sigh*
  

Do you see what I see?

I’m halfway to the finish line with my newest project. These shoes are part of it and they represent something. I’m hoping it’s obvious when it’s done.  Does anyone see it yet?

Question:  When are two boys most likely to volunteer
 without being asked
 to CLEAN something without protest and procrastination?

 Answer:
When it’s precisely two years before they’ll have their license,
the object to be cleaned has a loud exhaust system,
 four wheels and an ignition 
and they get to pull it out into the driveway to do so.
Go figure.

Corn Spoon Bread

 This casserole dish is devoured by my kids and guests alike. Very easy to make – light and fluffy and satisfying, with a simple taste that is delicious.  I’m adding it to the Thanksgiving table.  My picky teen thinks I’m the best cook ever when I make this…and hey, whenever a teenager thinks I’m doing something RIGHT… I’m bound to repeat it… because that’s a  Blue Moon kind of thing around here.

Fresh Corn Spoon Bread
Gourmet Magazine – serves six
Ingredients:
2 cups whole milk
1/3 cup yellow cornmeal
1 1/2 cups fresh corn kernels (from 2 to 3 ears) (or 1 can)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 teaspoon salt
4 large eggs, separated

Preheat oven to 425°F.

Bring milk, cornmeal, corn kernels, butter, and salt to a boil in a 3-quart heavy saucepan over moderately high heat, stirring frequently, and simmer, stirring constantly, until thickened, 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from heat and cool 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, then whisk in yolks.

Beat whites and a pinch of salt with an electric mixer at medium speed just until soft peaks form. Whisk one fourth of whites into cornmeal mixture in pan to lighten, then fold in remaining whites gently but thoroughly. Spread mixture evenly in a buttered 9 1/2-inch deep-dish glass pie plate or 1 1/2-quart shallow casserole and bake in middle of oven until puffed and golden, 15 to 20 minutes. Serve immediately (like a soufflé, spoon bread collapses quickly).

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/printerfriendly/Fresh-Corn-Spoon-Bread-106756#ixzz15XLeRxRO

You Can’t Go Home Again

 I visit Staten Island once a year to see members of our family who still call it home.  Every trip down there brings sadness to my heart, for it is not the island of my youth. I blame the city of New York for poor zoning regulations and a disregard for preservation of history.  It comes down to the all mighty dollar and a big dose of corruption, I suppose.
   The island was once hailed as a rural respite from the hectic pulse of the big city.  There are still some beautiful areas, like the old sea captains homes of Sailors Snug Harbor and Clove Lake Park.  Historic Richmond Town is a living history village and museum complex not unlike Sturbridge in Massachusetts, and as far as I can tell, the greenbelt is still “green”.  It’s also considered an affordable community for people who fortify the city workforce, although I am shocked at the real estate listing prices.  

Sailors Snug Harbor
Also known as Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden or referenced informally as Snug Harbor, is a collection of architecturally significant 19th century buildings set in a park located along the Kill Van Kull on the north shore of Staten Island in New York City. It was once a home for aged sailors and is now a 83-acre (340,000 m2) city park. Some of the buildings and the grounds are used by arts organizations under the umbrella of the Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden.

  Unfortunately, in the 25 years that I have been “off-island”,  it’s rapidly become a congested hub of  traffic, pollution (both air and ground) overcrowding of housing – duplex after fourplex after sixplex of apartment and condo units with nary a hint of  appealing architecture and barely a nod toward horticulture.  Historic structures have been removed at an alarming rate and there doesn’t seem to be any sort of movement with momentum to stop the madness.

Years ago, most of the streets looked like this…

 Today, many are turning into this…
Among the Casualties….
Clove Lake Stables
My grandmother, her youngest daughter and then my sister and I used to ride rented horses
through the park at one of the two big barns on the island, Clove Lake Stables.
The Stable was originally an ice house, and then converted to a Livery
by the Franzreb family when refrigeration made ice houses obsolete.
That’s me, second from left.
The horse was named Gaslight and I adored him.
I had a plan to someday rescue him when I had a farm of my own.
By the time that happened, Gaslight and the farm were gone.
Sister on pony
In it’s place is a large housing development.
Cedar Grove Beach
My cousin and I braving the waves at waters edge…
Mom with cousin Jay
Recent times…
Cedar Grove was a small cottage community on the water  facing the city.  Three generations of my family enjoyed summers there in rented bungalows.  It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a safe, friendly beach where everyone knew their neighbor and pitched in to keep the place up. Many families had rented the same bungalow for fifty years or more. This year it all came to an end . The article below sums it up beautifully.
Cedar Grove Beach All Washed Up

By Matt Chaban

October 4, 2010
There was no eleventh hour rescue for Cedar Grove, no life preserver for the 99-year-old beach community on Staten Island’s South Shore, the last of its kind. Despite resident’s best hopes, the politicians and preservationists backing the Grovers could not reach a deal with the Bloomberg administration or the Parks Department to save the bungalows at least for another season, to say nothing of another century. Even Andrea Peyser — Andrea Peyser! — couldn’t woo them.
Grovers still maintain there is no reason to spend good money tearing down a good beach — it’s much cleaner than its city-owned neighbors — that pays $140,000 to the Park’s Department every year to exist. It will cost millions of dollars in capital money to tear down the houses and reopen the stretch next year, which is and has always been publicly accessible. At the same time, beaches across the city, including some just up the shore, have been closed due to lack of funds. Never mind that the city is so desperate for money that it is considering selling off its parking meters to fill the widening budget gap.
At midnight Saturday, Cedar Grove was no more. Parks police was on hand to see to that, according to the news -Parks Department officers guarded the club’s gate as members carried out their belongings. “It’s been tough because I’ve been finding a lot of old family memorabilia,” said John Murphy, 52. The Staten Island Advance has been covering the saga closely and has its own tale of woe:
The season at Cedar Grove Beach Club opened each year with the raising of American flags from each of the 41 bungalows. [Saturday], those same flags were flying upside down. “It signals a vessel in distress,” said Roy Wood, a retired Sandy Hook pilot. After nearly a century, time has run out for Cedar Grove. Its lease with the city expired yesterday, an occasion made even grayer by the rain.
 Edith Holtermann pulled the remaining produce from her garden.    side-note from Karen –  (Mrs. Holtermann was my gym teacher in high school – she could throw a mean volley ball if you aggravated her in just the right way.)    Mick Kenny took one last view from his back deck. Jennifer Fitzgerald-Young stood on her porch with her daughter, Elizabeth, who at 9 months is Cedar Grove’s youngest resident. Eric Lesnick hoisted his 5-year-old daughter, Lillianna, in his arms.
“We will miss you,” she scribbled on a bungalow wall.
The fate of this community and beach  remains to be seen.  Demolition of the cottages is on the agenda.
 The Family Homestead
Then
  We grew up in a century old farm house with a generous yard in the midst of an old family neighborhood. Big oak trees hung over our house and the streets were tree-lined too.  When I drive down the old street now, it’s a heavy feeling. Not much is familiar. The house was taken down for a much more profitable four-family times two. 
 Now

The original front door knocker  now mounted on my mother’s current door.
They don’t make them like they used to.

Some things that still exist
My grandmothers house of 42 years… though she moved away years ago
and has since passed on, this will always be Nana’s house to me.
Then

(we were all scared senseless in this photo, even though my cousin Ralph
was underneath the disguise. Santa’s just a scarey dude, why do we torture our kids this way?)
Now
My Aunt and Uncle still live in the house they built 50 years ago.
I used to feed the deer red berries off the bushes in their yard.
I thought I’de rescue them someday too…
and you know, that’s still a possibility.
I’m finding it ironic – the strong desire I had at 18 to get the heck out of Dodge and go find my life in the country….and this wish at midlife to be able to return, if only for a day, to that old familiar place where time was on my side, ambition ran high and all dreams were out there for the making. In those days, in that house, there was not yet the realization that all dreams cannot be met, all relationships will not work out as we would like, all things are not always possible, no matter how badly we work for, want or need them.
 
   The meaning in the quote “You Can’t Go Home Again”  as I see it..is this –  Even if the old homestead were still intact with every tree still standing, I am changed. I am different. I am polluted and crowded with the experiences of my life.  Standing on that very threshold would not bring me “home“, not as I knew it then.  Home is the here and now…and really, what am I looking for back there anyway.  It’s all good right here.

  Well…. there’s the food. But I can bring that back with me.
And I did.       

A World Champion..and I knew her when

This is a video of the young woman who just two days ago won the AQHA World  Show Amatuer Trail class in Oklahoma. For those of you who are not of the horsey set, this is like winning the Olympics!  Our little farms were side by side for many years and I am proud to say I KNEW HER WHEN!..

 Many years of blood, sweat and tears, heart ache and hard work went into this win. 

Congratulations SARAH and TUG!!!!!……..
A blast from the past:
On the left- Sarah on her first horse Maggie and sister Casey riding Missy
The girls had braided feathers in their horses manes for the family Christmas card.
No horses have ever been loved more,
 and no one I know has ever worked harder to achieve her goal.

I must be getting old

  Is it just me or is my age showing?  I am not fond of this not-so- new and wildly popular trend in TV viewing – in particular, Reality TV.   It seems to thrive on the exploitation of all the weaknesses of the human race – like general stupidity and selfishness and superficial material worship among other things.  I don’t blame the participants…No.. I blame the people who came up with these shows AND the viewers who make them so wildly popular.  The reality stars are just making a living.

 I’m sure you’ve all heard of Jersey Shore by now, because it’s beyond wildly popular..and I just have to laugh out loud.  It’s my old stomping grounds from back in the day.

A conversation with my 14 year old:

Him:  Mom, did you ever hear of Jersey Shore?  It’s so cool, you gotta see it. There’s this girl.. Snookie?…

Me: Yes, I know the show. Actually, I know the place, intimately!

Him:  YOU DO NOT. …Jersey SHORE??… were you ever, like, THERE?….

Me:  Yeah, I was theah.  As many weekends as I cud get theah.  It’s wheah we hung ou
 (“t” is silent heah,  and you say the first pawt of “out” hawd and fast and end it quick) 

Him:  You Did Not. OMG you’re talking LIKE THAT!!!

Me:  Yeah so wut.  Go pahk the caw faw me and don’t step in the wahta outside the daw.

Him:  Mom, STOP, you sound so WEIRD.

Me:  Whateva

Forever in Blue Jeans

  My standard attire, my basic wardrobe,  the outfit I’de pick if I had to wear just one thing for the rest of my life would be without a doubt… blue jeans and a t-shirt.

  Did you know… 

  • Blue jeans were invented in 1873 by Jacob Davis and Levi Strauss.
  • Although denim pants had been around as work wear for many years, historically dating back to England in the 1600s with a fabric there called denim, it was the first use of rivets that created what we now call jeans.
  • One of Levi’s many customers was a tailor named Jacob Davis. Originally from Latvia, Jacob lived in Reno, Nevada, and regularly purchased bolts of cloth from the wholesale house of Levi Strauss & Co. Among Jacob’s customers was a difficult man who kept ripping the pockets of the pants that Jacob made for him. Jacob tried to think of a way to strengthen the man’s trousers, and one day hit upon the idea of putting metal rivets at the points of strain, such as on the pocket corners and at the base of the button fly.
    These riveted pants were an instant hit with Jacob’s customers and he worried that someone might steal this great idea. He decided he should apply for a patent on the process, but didn’t have the $68 that was required to file the papers. He needed a business partner and he immediately thought of Levi Strauss.
    In 1872 Jacob wrote a letter to Levi to suggest that the two men hold the patent together. Levi, who was an astute businessman, saw the potential for this new product and agreed to Jacob’s proposal. On May 20, 1873, the two men received patent no.139,121 from the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. That day is now considered to be the official “birthday” of blue jeans.
 Hilary over at Crazy As A Loom has done something awesome with recycled jeans.  Look what arrived on my doorstep last night …

 The upstairs hallway is very narrow and sits between the kids’ bedrooms.  When the shop closed recently I brought home this awesome blue dresser that we used for displays, but I had no idea where I’de put it. I found it at Homegoods two years ago in the sale department and fell in love.  I don’t decorate with blue though, so it wasn’t looking good anywhere I put it.  Then it dawned on me that there were no competing colors up there and I could go blue-crazy in that one spot.  So I did.

  Look at this finish and the old fashioned handle. 
My father would say  “now THAT needs a paint job, you paid MONEY for it? “.

Turquoise urns..
A simple bee valance in ivory.  
Thank you, Hilary.  My new “jeans” fit perfect.