Kate Collins's Blog, page 285
November 26, 2011
A Picture Can Heal A Thousand Wounds
by Leann
I often spend many hours before, during and after holidays in tears. That's because I am a child of an alcoholic. My mother's biggest binge would begin right before Thanksgiving and often last until the end of January or February. It is, after all, the time of year when people do a lot of drinking. Problem was, she couldn't handle one drink much less two or more. The drinking just went on and on for weeks--morning, noon and night. This was the time when I became scarred for life--a time that should hold many happy memories. But those memories of Santa and celebrations weren't the ones I remembered. I recalled being hurt, despondent, ashamed and guilty. Yes, the kids of alcoholics do blame themselves. For this reason, the holiday season has, in the past, left me depressed and anxious. Those are some nasty leftovers, not the stuffing and pumpkin pie kind of goodies.
This year,we have been cleaning out the house for our eventual move to South Carolina. One thing my husband uncovered was an old trunk that I thought came from his side of the family. It remained unopened for as long as we have lived in this house--21 years. But really longer, since it actually came on a boat from Brazil, where my father worked for the latter part of his career and where my mother died and was buried. When he retired and moved back to the states, he sent everything on a boat to my house in Texas.
Let me tell you, that trunk was one musty and rusty old mess. Many of the other things that had come back to me from Brazil were damaged by mold and mildew on the long journey. My husband opened it and told me it belonged to me, not to him. What a surprise! That trunk was filled to the top with pictures, some of them familiar, but many that I had never seen before. They were mostly pictures of my maternal grandparents and others on that side of the family, as well as pics of my parents through the years.
Seeing black and white proof of happy times with my brother and sister was absolutely transforming. There was a time when my mother was young and beautiful, there was a time when she held my brother and sister lovingly. There are no pictures of her holding me. Not one. I understood then why I felt the brunt of her illness more than my siblings ever did. She once told me I was an "accident" and I think the absence of us together shows the truth. That's really not a sad thing. It's confirmation. I did not cry. I did not feel sad. I felt validated. She was flawed, yes, but she did love some of the people in her life and for that I am happy.
I now have wonderful pictures confirming my memories of living in England during the early fifties. I saw the house where we lived--just as I remembered it. (And I was only three when we moved there!) I saw the horse and wagon that delivered the milk. I saw all the places we went after my father's tour of duty was over--Italy, Bavaria, Scotland. I love that old trunk of memories!
I now have some very well preserved pictures of my grandfather and grandmother. They both died when I was quite young so I will treasure them. But the best part of all were the pictures I found where my mother had that look in her eyes. The drunken look I was so familiar with. I was able to toss them in the trash and I cannot tell you what a great burden was lifted off my shoulders when I did this. Seeing and doing are much more cathartic than thinking...and thinking. No tears for me this Thanksgiving. Just a freedom I thought I would never find.
What has a picture done for you that changed everything? Do you have some? Do you understand?
I often spend many hours before, during and after holidays in tears. That's because I am a child of an alcoholic. My mother's biggest binge would begin right before Thanksgiving and often last until the end of January or February. It is, after all, the time of year when people do a lot of drinking. Problem was, she couldn't handle one drink much less two or more. The drinking just went on and on for weeks--morning, noon and night. This was the time when I became scarred for life--a time that should hold many happy memories. But those memories of Santa and celebrations weren't the ones I remembered. I recalled being hurt, despondent, ashamed and guilty. Yes, the kids of alcoholics do blame themselves. For this reason, the holiday season has, in the past, left me depressed and anxious. Those are some nasty leftovers, not the stuffing and pumpkin pie kind of goodies.
This year,we have been cleaning out the house for our eventual move to South Carolina. One thing my husband uncovered was an old trunk that I thought came from his side of the family. It remained unopened for as long as we have lived in this house--21 years. But really longer, since it actually came on a boat from Brazil, where my father worked for the latter part of his career and where my mother died and was buried. When he retired and moved back to the states, he sent everything on a boat to my house in Texas.
Let me tell you, that trunk was one musty and rusty old mess. Many of the other things that had come back to me from Brazil were damaged by mold and mildew on the long journey. My husband opened it and told me it belonged to me, not to him. What a surprise! That trunk was filled to the top with pictures, some of them familiar, but many that I had never seen before. They were mostly pictures of my maternal grandparents and others on that side of the family, as well as pics of my parents through the years.
Seeing black and white proof of happy times with my brother and sister was absolutely transforming. There was a time when my mother was young and beautiful, there was a time when she held my brother and sister lovingly. There are no pictures of her holding me. Not one. I understood then why I felt the brunt of her illness more than my siblings ever did. She once told me I was an "accident" and I think the absence of us together shows the truth. That's really not a sad thing. It's confirmation. I did not cry. I did not feel sad. I felt validated. She was flawed, yes, but she did love some of the people in her life and for that I am happy.
I now have wonderful pictures confirming my memories of living in England during the early fifties. I saw the house where we lived--just as I remembered it. (And I was only three when we moved there!) I saw the horse and wagon that delivered the milk. I saw all the places we went after my father's tour of duty was over--Italy, Bavaria, Scotland. I love that old trunk of memories!
I now have some very well preserved pictures of my grandfather and grandmother. They both died when I was quite young so I will treasure them. But the best part of all were the pictures I found where my mother had that look in her eyes. The drunken look I was so familiar with. I was able to toss them in the trash and I cannot tell you what a great burden was lifted off my shoulders when I did this. Seeing and doing are much more cathartic than thinking...and thinking. No tears for me this Thanksgiving. Just a freedom I thought I would never find.
What has a picture done for you that changed everything? Do you have some? Do you understand?
November 25, 2011
A terrible, terrible week . . .
by Lorna Barrett / Lorraine Bartlett / L.L. Bartlett
It was only a month ago that I wrote about the loss of my mother's dog, Jessie ... and sadly, now I've suffered another lost pet. My dear sweet Bonnie.
Almost 15 years ago we brought Bonnie and her sister Betsy home from the local humane society in a cardboard pet carrier. We had gone there to get one cat. We were looking for a tabby and Bonnie fit the bill, but they were trying to foist off both sisters and ... well, what's one more cat anyway? We couldn't leave Betsy behind. When we first saw them they were in a cage together, their little arms wrapped around each other.
Bonnie and Betsy keep warm by the heat run -- 4 months old.Right from the start I knew that little tabby would be named Bonnie. It took us about a week to decide the right name for her sister. They were about four months old and cute as all get out. I remember that day as if it was yesterday, and how we had to go out and buy another litter box because we didn't have enough for five cats.
Our then dominant cat Larry took to the kittens like a daddy. He protected them, disciplined them, and they looked at him like love-struck teenagers. Alas, Larry died the next year of cancer ... so their friendship was to be short-lived.
Larry and Bonnie - 1997.Six years ago we adopted two other siblings, but unlike Betsy and Bonnie, they didn't get along with the other cats. We ended up keeping Fred, but his brother George went to a new, loving, forever home. Unfortunately, the experience traumatized Bonnie, who spent most of the rest of her life hiding from the boys. But every night she would come out come out and sit on my lap, and if Mr. L ever sat in an easy chair during the day, she was there to keep him company. (Right up until the end.) The girls were great little travelers and often went with us to our summer cottage where they could be on vacation from the boys, and spoiled rotten. They thrived on it.
Bonnie checks out the cottage kitchen sink - 2008.
We always thought Betsy would be the first to go. She had blood cancer three years ago. She was terribly sick and we thought we'd lose her for sure, but she went through chemo and has been in remission ever since. (Albeit a lot more crabby. But we'll take her as she comes.)
A little over 18 months ago, Bonnie went through Thyrocat -- radiation to kill off her diseased thyroid. She had to spend 10 days at the vet, and when she came home she wasn't allowed to sit on our laps for another two weeks. (Try telling that to a dedicated lap cat.) Radiation can cause cancer. Did we do the wrong thing by having her go through that treatment? I'll never know for sure ... but I'm feeling mighty guilty about it now.
It was less than two weeks ago when we knew for sure something was terribly wrong with our girl. We took her to the vet for blood work and everything came out normal. Time for an ultrasound. (Was it only 8 days ago?) That's when we got the news that she had a large tumor on her liver and pancreas. There was no hope for our dear girl. And that traumatic experience sent her over the edge. That morning she'd been herself ... after the ultrasound, our Bonnie quickly started disappearing. It's almost as though she understood the diagnosis.
One of my favorite pictures of Bonnie--sitting on my lap. June 2008I've had to make the decision to take a pet to the vet one last time, and it's never easy, but this was the hardest yet.
Bonnie loved her cat cookies and was always the first to be ready at her treat bowl. She had little white toes that we called her elephant toes because they reminded us of pachyderm feet. She would sit pretty for her dinner. She loved to spend the day having an adventure on the trundle bed at the cottage. She always had a warm, dry nose. She liked to sleep in the sun on a winter's afternoon. She loved to sit on our laps. Always. And when she spoke, she always said "Brack!"
Bonnie at the cottage -- Memorial Day Weekend 2011.I miss you, my dear sweet Bon-Bon.
It was only a month ago that I wrote about the loss of my mother's dog, Jessie ... and sadly, now I've suffered another lost pet. My dear sweet Bonnie.
Almost 15 years ago we brought Bonnie and her sister Betsy home from the local humane society in a cardboard pet carrier. We had gone there to get one cat. We were looking for a tabby and Bonnie fit the bill, but they were trying to foist off both sisters and ... well, what's one more cat anyway? We couldn't leave Betsy behind. When we first saw them they were in a cage together, their little arms wrapped around each other.
Bonnie and Betsy keep warm by the heat run -- 4 months old.Right from the start I knew that little tabby would be named Bonnie. It took us about a week to decide the right name for her sister. They were about four months old and cute as all get out. I remember that day as if it was yesterday, and how we had to go out and buy another litter box because we didn't have enough for five cats.Our then dominant cat Larry took to the kittens like a daddy. He protected them, disciplined them, and they looked at him like love-struck teenagers. Alas, Larry died the next year of cancer ... so their friendship was to be short-lived.
Larry and Bonnie - 1997.Six years ago we adopted two other siblings, but unlike Betsy and Bonnie, they didn't get along with the other cats. We ended up keeping Fred, but his brother George went to a new, loving, forever home. Unfortunately, the experience traumatized Bonnie, who spent most of the rest of her life hiding from the boys. But every night she would come out come out and sit on my lap, and if Mr. L ever sat in an easy chair during the day, she was there to keep him company. (Right up until the end.) The girls were great little travelers and often went with us to our summer cottage where they could be on vacation from the boys, and spoiled rotten. They thrived on it.
Bonnie checks out the cottage kitchen sink - 2008.We always thought Betsy would be the first to go. She had blood cancer three years ago. She was terribly sick and we thought we'd lose her for sure, but she went through chemo and has been in remission ever since. (Albeit a lot more crabby. But we'll take her as she comes.)
A little over 18 months ago, Bonnie went through Thyrocat -- radiation to kill off her diseased thyroid. She had to spend 10 days at the vet, and when she came home she wasn't allowed to sit on our laps for another two weeks. (Try telling that to a dedicated lap cat.) Radiation can cause cancer. Did we do the wrong thing by having her go through that treatment? I'll never know for sure ... but I'm feeling mighty guilty about it now.It was less than two weeks ago when we knew for sure something was terribly wrong with our girl. We took her to the vet for blood work and everything came out normal. Time for an ultrasound. (Was it only 8 days ago?) That's when we got the news that she had a large tumor on her liver and pancreas. There was no hope for our dear girl. And that traumatic experience sent her over the edge. That morning she'd been herself ... after the ultrasound, our Bonnie quickly started disappearing. It's almost as though she understood the diagnosis.
One of my favorite pictures of Bonnie--sitting on my lap. June 2008I've had to make the decision to take a pet to the vet one last time, and it's never easy, but this was the hardest yet.Bonnie loved her cat cookies and was always the first to be ready at her treat bowl. She had little white toes that we called her elephant toes because they reminded us of pachyderm feet. She would sit pretty for her dinner. She loved to spend the day having an adventure on the trundle bed at the cottage. She always had a warm, dry nose. She liked to sleep in the sun on a winter's afternoon. She loved to sit on our laps. Always. And when she spoke, she always said "Brack!"
Bonnie at the cottage -- Memorial Day Weekend 2011.I miss you, my dear sweet Bon-Bon.
The Most Dreaded Question of the Year
By Heather Webber / Heather Blake
"What do you want for Christmas?" Mr. W asked me last week.
For me, this is one of the toughest questions ever, especially when there's nothing in particular I want.
Like this year.
Ugh.
Honestly, I could only think of one thing off the top of my head—hiking socks. When I said so, he groaned. Obviously, not the type of present he was looking to buy. But hey, I love hiking socks—wear them every day during the winter because they're cushy and cozy and WARM. Oh, and they're not cheap, either. Around $30 a pair. See? A good present, right? But he didn't seem too gung-ho. So I tried again.
"A new comforter set would be nice. Of course, I'd want to pick it out..."
At which he gave me The Look.
So I tried again. "There is this purse I've been looking at online, but I don't really need it, and I'd have to see it in person before I decide if I really want it..."
Another groan.
Hey, he asked.
So we're back at square one with the shopping. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Do you tell people exactly what you want, or do you like them to figure it out on their own?How's your wish list looking this year? Any socks on it?
"What do you want for Christmas?" Mr. W asked me last week.
For me, this is one of the toughest questions ever, especially when there's nothing in particular I want.
Like this year.Ugh.
Honestly, I could only think of one thing off the top of my head—hiking socks. When I said so, he groaned. Obviously, not the type of present he was looking to buy. But hey, I love hiking socks—wear them every day during the winter because they're cushy and cozy and WARM. Oh, and they're not cheap, either. Around $30 a pair. See? A good present, right? But he didn't seem too gung-ho. So I tried again.
"A new comforter set would be nice. Of course, I'd want to pick it out..."
At which he gave me The Look.
So I tried again. "There is this purse I've been looking at online, but I don't really need it, and I'd have to see it in person before I decide if I really want it..."
Another groan.
Hey, he asked.
So we're back at square one with the shopping. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Do you tell people exactly what you want, or do you like them to figure it out on their own?How's your wish list looking this year? Any socks on it?
November 23, 2011
Thankful to You!
Thanksgiving is here and the Cozy Chicks hope yours is filled with food, laughter, and celebration.
We want to stop and take a moment to say how thankful we are for you, our readers.
Day after day you take time from your busy schedule to stop by. Sometimes you read a blog, sometimes you comment, and sometimes you tell someone else about our
site or our books or both.We are grateful for all you — we write for you!
So enjoy this holiday and I know it's a little preschoolish, but if you'd like to comment about something you're thankful for, we'd love to read it!
November 22, 2011
Best Turkey Stuffing Ever
by Deb Baker/Hannah Reed
I've gathered my recipes, made a list, and like all of you, today is the final shopping trip for tomorrow's dinner. Making the grocery list got me thinking about all the different turkey stuffings. Everybody has a favorite, and they are all so different. And the ingredients! Apples, raisins, walnuts, wild rice, mushrooms, oysters, chestnuts! And that's only a few of the options.
Some of us like our stuffing moist through and through, some of us like a crunchy top. (I'm a crunchy)
Some of us bake it in the bird, some of us don't. (I'm a don'ter)
Here's my favorite recipe, the best ever (in my personal opinion), the one I'll make tomorrow:
Cook 2 pkg of Jimmy Dean sage sausage until no longer pink, add 8 oz broken up fresh mushrooms, 1 1/2 cups diced celery, 1 1/2 c. diced onions, 3 minced cloves of garlic, cook for 10 minutes, stirring, then take off the heat, add 10 oz frozen spinach (thawed & drained well), 2 tsp rosemary, 2 tsp poultry seasoning, 1 tsp black pepper, 15 oz pkg dry bread cubes, 2 c. chicken broth, 1 egg lightly beaten. Put into a buttered casserole, cover and bake at 325 for 60 minutes. If you like it crunchy, uncover for last half hour. (serves about 10)
And to start your day on a happy note:
"An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day." ~Irv Kupcinet
"On Thanksgiving Day, all over America, families sit down to dinner at the same moment - halftime." ~Author Unknown
"Thanksgiving is an emotional holiday. People travel thousands of miles to be with people they only see once a year. And then discover once a year is way too often." ~Johnny Carson
"Got no check books, got no banks. Still I'd like to express my thanks - I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night". ~Irving Berlin
What's your favorite kind of stuffing or special ingredient? Are you a softie or a crunchie? Are you an innie or an outie?
I've gathered my recipes, made a list, and like all of you, today is the final shopping trip for tomorrow's dinner. Making the grocery list got me thinking about all the different turkey stuffings. Everybody has a favorite, and they are all so different. And the ingredients! Apples, raisins, walnuts, wild rice, mushrooms, oysters, chestnuts! And that's only a few of the options.Some of us like our stuffing moist through and through, some of us like a crunchy top. (I'm a crunchy)
Some of us bake it in the bird, some of us don't. (I'm a don'ter)
Here's my favorite recipe, the best ever (in my personal opinion), the one I'll make tomorrow:
Cook 2 pkg of Jimmy Dean sage sausage until no longer pink, add 8 oz broken up fresh mushrooms, 1 1/2 cups diced celery, 1 1/2 c. diced onions, 3 minced cloves of garlic, cook for 10 minutes, stirring, then take off the heat, add 10 oz frozen spinach (thawed & drained well), 2 tsp rosemary, 2 tsp poultry seasoning, 1 tsp black pepper, 15 oz pkg dry bread cubes, 2 c. chicken broth, 1 egg lightly beaten. Put into a buttered casserole, cover and bake at 325 for 60 minutes. If you like it crunchy, uncover for last half hour. (serves about 10)
And to start your day on a happy note:
"An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day." ~Irv Kupcinet
"On Thanksgiving Day, all over America, families sit down to dinner at the same moment - halftime." ~Author Unknown
"Thanksgiving is an emotional holiday. People travel thousands of miles to be with people they only see once a year. And then discover once a year is way too often." ~Johnny Carson
"Got no check books, got no banks. Still I'd like to express my thanks - I got the sun in the morning and the moon at night". ~Irving Berlin
What's your favorite kind of stuffing or special ingredient? Are you a softie or a crunchie? Are you an innie or an outie?
November 21, 2011
Turkey Day Coming Fast
Wow, it's hard to believe Thanksgiving time is here. We can always tell the Holiday Season is starting because the evening darkness seems to move faster by mid-November. In our Mountain Time Zone, it's dark by 5:20pm. Pretty soon, it will be 5:00pm. Daylight hours are shrinking, reminding us that Winter is upon us. We've had reminders of Winter already here in Colorado with several snowstorms. Our mountains are snow-capped and gorgeous, and the ski resorts have gotten lots and lots of snow and are open for business!
I'll be flying from Denver today, Tuesday, heading for New York City to celebrate Thanksgiving with Daughter Melissa at her Manhattan apartment. Daughters Serena and Maria are joining us, so the four of us will cook one of our favorite family meals: Turkey with all the trimmings. Lots of rich food. Needless to say, we'll all be working out so we can feel reasonably virtuous consuming this feast.
Ooooops! I forgot to mention the pie. Super rich pecan pie. Thanksgiving at our house was usually a large affair because we were a family of six plus we always invited others in the university com
munity to join us. Since there's only four of us this time, we'll probably buy a small pumpkin tart for Tradition's sake. However, our favorite has always been the pecan pie. The recipe my girls use is my recipe which I developed years ago. It's the same recipe I included in the 5th Kelly Flynn Knitting mystery, DYER CONSEQUENCES. Try it out---and feel free to add some rich vanilla ice cream. Hmmmm, maybe we'd better work out twice on Thanksgiving Day. :)I'll check back with you folks next Tuesday and let you know if we saw the huge Macy's parade setting up in the street around the corner from Melissa's Upper West Side apartment. I've always wanted to see the giant Mickey Mouse and Charlie Brown. :) Meanwhile, I wish all of you a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. Enjoy!
November 20, 2011
In The Greek Tradition
By KateCollins
Yesterday wehonored the anniversary of my husband's death in the way his big Greek familyhas always honored their loved ones, with a memorial dinner. It took some doing, as he had familyscattered from one side of the country to the other, even across the sea, butwe finally found a date that worked.What wehonored, though, was not his death, but his life -- and what a full life he'dled. He'd worked in his family's grocery store throughout his childhood, servedhis country, gone to law school on the GI Bill, raised a family, travelled theglobe, and did I mention married me?
It was asecond marriage for both of us, so we brought baggage into it that had to beworked through. That wasn't always easy, but our deep respect and admirationfor each other, along with our love, kept us plugging away at it until weacquired the right tools. And then, what happiness! Look at the joy on our faces in the photo of us in Athens.
However, aspainful as it has been, I've had to keep turning my head forward instead of dwellingon our golden years together. It's difficult to not wish he was here and tough toimagine a future without him. But what I've learned is that his plan here wasfulfilled and my plan is still in progress. I truly believe God has beenworking hard on my behalf my whole life, blessing me with loving parents and beautifulchildren, bringing my wonderful Greek to me, giving me the skills and ambitionto write books, and much more -- and that He's not done with me yet.Everyoneexperiences painful losses, whether a parent, a child, a sibling, a spouse, ora pet. It can bring our lives to a dead stop. The only remedy is to keep movingforward and trust that there is a plan for us, and what we are experiencinggives us the tools to accomplish it.
My husband didn'thave an easy life growing up, but he never let that deter him. Everything thathappened to him made him a more experienced lawyer, a more caring father, and amore generous, loving spouse. What a legacy!
I heard thistip: Write down three things you want people to say about you when you're gone,and you'll work harder toward achieving them. So what are the three mostimportant things you want people to say about you?
November 19, 2011
Thank You, Readers!
by Leann
I'm not sure where 2011 went, but I won't be sorry to see it go. My husband had surgery for cancer, I lost two of my three senior cats and I tore my rotator cuff. Next year has to be better, right?
But there have been very good moments, too. I brought a new and wonderful kitten (Wexford, the ragdoll) and he has made me laugh more times than I can count. My husband has finally decided that, yes, we will begin the steps necessary for him to retire and for us to move to South Carolina. I haven't been this happy in a long time!
In April, The Cat, The Lady and The Liar made the NY Times bestseller list. I have been writing since 1990 and I never thought that day would come. I have to thank you, the readers, for making what I thought was impossible possible. You will be in my thoughts come Thursday, that's for sure. I also have to thank my editor because after a very difficult rewrite process, the next cat book is off to production. And here's the better part. A new contract for 3 more Cats in Trouble Mysteries. Thank you readers! You've done more for me than I ever thought possible.
I'm not sure where 2011 went, but I won't be sorry to see it go. My husband had surgery for cancer, I lost two of my three senior cats and I tore my rotator cuff. Next year has to be better, right?
But there have been very good moments, too. I brought a new and wonderful kitten (Wexford, the ragdoll) and he has made me laugh more times than I can count. My husband has finally decided that, yes, we will begin the steps necessary for him to retire and for us to move to South Carolina. I haven't been this happy in a long time!
In April, The Cat, The Lady and The Liar made the NY Times bestseller list. I have been writing since 1990 and I never thought that day would come. I have to thank you, the readers, for making what I thought was impossible possible. You will be in my thoughts come Thursday, that's for sure. I also have to thank my editor because after a very difficult rewrite process, the next cat book is off to production. And here's the better part. A new contract for 3 more Cats in Trouble Mysteries. Thank you readers! You've done more for me than I ever thought possible.
November 18, 2011
The Holidays in Snow Village
by Lorna Barrett / Lorraine Bartlett / L.L. Bartlett
Once upon a time we had a house (well, we still do) that had no furniture. Okay, we had SOME furniture, but we didn't have a lot of it. But we did have Snow Village. You know, those cute little lighted stores and houses that look so cute. (That's the Christmas Shop on the left. The first piece I ever owned. It was a gift from my mother.)
We had seen a HUGE Snow Village display at an inn in Vermont and I knew that I wanted one, too. So, I started collecting the individual pieces.
After a couple of years, Mr. L bought a big sheet of plywood that he attached some folding legs to, and I had a place to display my ever-expanding village. As I got more pieces, he built risers so that I could have the residential section above the commercial part of the village. It was very cute!
My Snow Village is the real one from Department 56. I don't think they make them anymore. They started doing all kind of franchise stuff, like with Coke and John Deere, etc. and then it just became too commercial and I stopped buying them. I liked it better when the ceramic buildings were a little more crude ... and a lot more whimsical. But by that time, we also had enough furniture.
With no room to set up the huge table, my Snow Village got retired for a few years. : (
Then I decided that I should set up a part of the village in the library down in the basement. (Not that we ever go in there much.)
The other day I was reading in my favorite spot across from our really big entertainment center and thought -- I could put a few pieces of the village up there. As it turned out, I could fit four (well, really five--one of them came in two parts) pieces up there.
I'm so pleased to see my Snow Village again (or part of it -- a quarter of the buildings are still in storage).
What's your favorite holiday decoration?
Once upon a time we had a house (well, we still do) that had no furniture. Okay, we had SOME furniture, but we didn't have a lot of it. But we did have Snow Village. You know, those cute little lighted stores and houses that look so cute. (That's the Christmas Shop on the left. The first piece I ever owned. It was a gift from my mother.)We had seen a HUGE Snow Village display at an inn in Vermont and I knew that I wanted one, too. So, I started collecting the individual pieces.
After a couple of years, Mr. L bought a big sheet of plywood that he attached some folding legs to, and I had a place to display my ever-expanding village. As I got more pieces, he built risers so that I could have the residential section above the commercial part of the village. It was very cute!
My Snow Village is the real one from Department 56. I don't think they make them anymore. They started doing all kind of franchise stuff, like with Coke and John Deere, etc. and then it just became too commercial and I stopped buying them. I liked it better when the ceramic buildings were a little more crude ... and a lot more whimsical. But by that time, we also had enough furniture.
With no room to set up the huge table, my Snow Village got retired for a few years. : (
Then I decided that I should set up a part of the village in the library down in the basement. (Not that we ever go in there much.)
The other day I was reading in my favorite spot across from our really big entertainment center and thought -- I could put a few pieces of the village up there. As it turned out, I could fit four (well, really five--one of them came in two parts) pieces up there.
I'm so pleased to see my Snow Village again (or part of it -- a quarter of the buildings are still in storage).
What's your favorite holiday decoration?
She Might Be Right
By Heather Webber / Heather Blake
My daughter, aka Baby Girl, was chatting away at the dinner table the other night and suddenly she said, "My second grade teacher lied to me."
She's 16. Obviously, she's been harboring this grudge for a while.
Me: About what?
Her: Cursive.
Turns out her second-grade teacher had harped on the students about learning proper cursive. A lesson we all probably learned around second grade as well.
Her: I never have to use it. All my papers are type-written. Everything else is printed.
She stared at Mr. W and me accusingly as if we had been accomplices. I suppose, since we enforced homework, we had been.
I tried to think of some reason why she needed cursive—and other than signatures (which are most often unreadable) I couldn't think of a single one. Do you write in cursive? I still do, more often than not, and even my print writing is a bit of a hybrid between print and cursive, but I grew up in a different generation.
Is my daughter right? Is cursive not needed anymore? Is it a dying art?
My daughter, aka Baby Girl, was chatting away at the dinner table the other night and suddenly she said, "My second grade teacher lied to me."
She's 16. Obviously, she's been harboring this grudge for a while.
Me: About what?
Her: Cursive.
Turns out her second-grade teacher had harped on the students about learning proper cursive. A lesson we all probably learned around second grade as well.
Her: I never have to use it. All my papers are type-written. Everything else is printed.
She stared at Mr. W and me accusingly as if we had been accomplices. I suppose, since we enforced homework, we had been.
I tried to think of some reason why she needed cursive—and other than signatures (which are most often unreadable) I couldn't think of a single one. Do you write in cursive? I still do, more often than not, and even my print writing is a bit of a hybrid between print and cursive, but I grew up in a different generation.
Is my daughter right? Is cursive not needed anymore? Is it a dying art?
