rockbridge times

Photographing With An iPad

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 11:04:00 +0000

Yes, the iPad has a camera and so one day in Terlingua, right there on the patio, we amused each other by photographing one another and the town spread out below us, the mountains in the distance and even the moon that crossed the sky in broad daylight. See the moon in the upper left hand corner? It was a good day.

I photographed light and shadows and incidentally ES painting watercolors.

And I photographed the Starlight on that last night in Terlingua. We finally got ourselves down the road to hear a little music and eat supper. A bit on the early side of the evening, but we still had reading in bed on our 'to do' list. ES finished Larry McMurtrey's memoir about growing up in Archer City. He read whole pages of it aloud to me. It was a good evening.

Here's the gate that leads up into la Posada Milagro. Some time it would be fun to bring a whole group of friends to Terlingua and stay up there together and cook dinner on the broad stone with the outdoor kitchen that looks out over the Chisos Mountains.

Writing On An iPad

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 21:53:00 +0000

It can be done and I love doing it. That is, I've spent the afternoon at the Gillman Subaru dealership, totally immersed in exploring my new iPad features and Apps. And writing text for a new picture book about those early January 2012 days that ES and I spent in Terlingua, TX.

I haven't even pulled today's New York Times out of its blue plastic wrap. Four hours of pressing my fingers on this iPad screen. I am crazy about it because it's not just for play. Pretty soon. , when I master the calendar and note taking apps, this flat well designed device will see me through my days. It has already joined my wallet, sunglasses and lipsticks in my green purse. So, the work on my car is not yet finished, but I am happy here, working away and sustained by a Pink Lady apple and Medjool dates.

Adornment with Feathers

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 00:54:00 +0000

What a dreamy image. This student is part of a fashion spectacular in Florence that was art directed by Marc Ascoli "with students at the Polimoda fashion school in Florence...Ascoli's masterclass has resulted in this night where the students collaborated with Ascoli in taking pieces by the likes of Barbour, Brooks Brothers, Folk, Yuketen and Engineered Garments and putting them completely out of their context/comfort zone. The inspiration points are of course pure David Lynch, derived from films such as his Rabbits series and Inland Empire , but the result is probably something more magical and uplifting than the Lynchian vision."
All of this from Style Bubble, that fashion blog I follow.
Lazy Sunday. The NYTimes remains largely unread, I took an afternoon nap and my allergies are in high gear - running nose, burning eyes. No pills working. It all simply is.
Have lots to write and show about Terlingua and the opening at Reeves Gallery last night with 50 of Dick Wray's paintings. Did some gallery hopping last night and ended with dinner at Haven. Hoping to post again when my nose is not dripping on the floor.

Terlingua Sunrise

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 04:53:00 +0000

How sweet it was. Sunrise and the moon is still high in the sky.

Twin-Gear Juicer Comes Out Of the Cabinet

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 04:10:00 +0000

Today is a day of reckoning. I 've heard that turn of phrase all my life. Well, today I am using it. I've just spent two hours in my kitchen making a batch of healthy vegetable juice with the Green Life Juice Extractor that I bought over a decade ago, at Queta's fine suggestion, I might add.
It's a day of reckoning because I am not in any way mechanically inclined. 'Reckoning' as defined in my old fashioned dictionary is 'calculation of a ship's position' or a 'settling of accounts' as in computation. I would say that there were calcuations and computations as I took the juicer apart, washed it and then put all its pieces back together again. The process took the better part of an hour as well as a look on-line at an instruction manual.
Instructions included this wonderful paragraph:

"Do not be timid about touching the Twin Gears with the wooden plunger while

juicing. It will not harm either the gears or the plunger. The plunger is made

from the same high quality wood as many fine chopping blocks, so any

accidental particles of cellulose scraped off by contact with the Twin Gears are

non-toxic and will pass through harmlessly with the pulp."

Green Life is a powerful juicer with metal parts. Its twin metal gears macerate rather than cut a carrot or a cucumber. It doesn't ever overheat so few or no vegetable nutrients are lost, meaning cooked. Years ago, I juiced. Carrots, beets, leafy greens. I am not sure why I stopped juicing. This juicer and all its parts have been in a kitchen cabinet untouched, for a very long time.
So, the juice I made today is a blend of twelve carrots, half a bunch of organic spinach and one very long cucumber. It tasted just like it looks. Doesn't matter what it tastes like. I am making and drinking a cupful every single day. Why, you ask? I'm not disclosing just yet. I'll wait until I am well into an alfalfa regimen too. And I'll see if it all works.

Oh, by the way I also made a pot of soup this afternoon filled with chunks of yams, turnips, carrots and celery. Healthy stuff, all. It was a day of reckoning and calculating. Betting on healthy eating.

Terlingua Day One

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 04:46:00 +0000

January 3, 2012

Terlingua, TX overlooking the Chisos Mountains

Day One

ES and I are immersed in a perfect day here in Terlingua, ensconced on the side of a rocky hill overlooking this little town, both of us sitting at a table on an open porch from where we can survey the Chisos Mountains and the progress of infrequent cars winding up the road toward the StarLite.

The sky is big here in West Texas. Hazy today. The mountains far inland across the Texas/Mexico border are a line of indistinct blue-grey.

ES is painting with watercolors and he just set one finished piece to dry at his feet. It is so quiet that all we hear is the tapping of my keyboard, the stirring of the paintbrush and that occasional pick-up truck on the road below.

Today, we decided to do nothing, meaning no hike in Big Bend and no excursion further west toward Presidio to see Big Hill. The most we’ll do is take a walk at sunset down the hill to a tent hostel, where yesterday I noticed that the white tents were golden orange in the sun. Yes, it’s a photo op.

There is a partially eaten salad by my laptop. Torn kale, chopped red cabbage and a sliced Persian cucumber, all mixed with a bit of Paul Newman’s Caesar salad dressing. It takes time to chew raw vegetables, so lunch is a deliberate process. ES is eating a homemade tamale from The Posada Milagro coffee shop.

We ate breakfast there this morning. ES had a chorizo breakfast burrito with his coffee and I had a side of beans along with spaghetti squash I brought from Houston in one of two coolers, filled with green leafed vegetables, olives, pesto sauce, salami and Trader Joe’s chocolate covered blueberries.

The Posada Milagro coffee shop seems to be a morning gathering spot for folks who live in the Terlingua environs. There were a few visitors, but most of the tables were filled with men who sport substantial grey beards and wear Western wide brimmed hats or baseball caps. They know and greet one another and a few arrived with a dog or laptop.

Our small stone casita is not a part of Mimi Webb Miller’s Posada Milago. That is further up the hill. Seven rooms for guests surrounded by a big stone patio and an open kitchen. Check out her website - it's a beautiful place.

No, the casita is a part of her compound and hideaway from a busy job on both coasts. ES knew Mimi decades ago and last year, they found one another on Facebook. Everything about her place is unique. Built over time, it’s hand crafted, secluded and idiosyncratic.

The casita is just as we left it a year ago. The window set into the turquoise door is covered with a piece of crocheted lace. A space heater keeps us warm at night. We can watch the sunrise through three windows next to what ES calls a ‘letto de matramonial’ because of its small size. This morning, ES said “You sure take a lot of the space in this bed.” I do list away from the edge of the mattress.

ES says our perch on the side of this hill reminds him of the place he stayed in Oaxaca so many years ago. “It feels the same,” he says. “Look down, over and out, just like the valley of Oaxaca. Except there were more sounds there. Dogs, church bells.”

Again, the stillness of the place flows through me. The sun is intense and our faces will undoubtedly be red tonight. Several bees have found their way to me. Must be the Neem oil I doused my hair with this morning.

Another car wends its way along the road below, a momentary sound. ES is sketching now. There is nothing to be done except to sit here and look at the mountains and then squeeze each other’s hand.

P.S. There’s a half moon in the uppermost part of the sky is so bright that it wipes out the brilliant starlight we glimpsed last night. Tonight, we won’t even need a flashlight to go to the nearby bathroom.

I did say that our casita is a simple single room?

Twenty feet away, there is another little stone building with a fanciful tiled shower and lots of hot water. If we turn right when leaving the casita, climb a few steps and take a left, there’s a door leading into a small room with a toilet and sink. As I left this little interior space earlier this evening, I was momentarily stunned to walk into a Big Bend landscape. Reality. I guess one gets used to stepping out of a bathroom into a vista with huge sky and distant mountains?

We did not go down to the Starlite to eat this evening. Instead, I made a salad with Chinese cabbage, more kale, black olives and avocado. Served it with a package of Italian salami.

ES asked where we were to eat this repast. I said in bed and spread checkered napkins. “Anything you prepare is wonderful,” he said, as I drank Kombucha and he a Shiner beer.

It’s been a very good day and I have not even mentioned our late afternoon walk down the road to the edge of a petite canyon in the middle of this town. ES rambled on about the evidence of a perpetually eroding landscape. Although it doesn’t rain here often, when it does rain, torrents of water erode the canyon, ever so slightly.

He warmed to his description as we looked out across this landscape. “It’s always in a state of erosion, though we can’t really see it happening.

It’s the slow dance of creation and destruction. It reminds me of Shiva and the eternal slow dance.”

OK. You see why I was attracted to ES so many years ago. It was the commentary, the conversation.

Moments later, we walked through the Terlingua cemetery that borders the canyon. The cemetery is dusty and dry. There are memorials made of concrete blocks covered with cement and white paint, graves with wooden crosses and upended glass jars. There are fresh gravesites, recent deaths and commemorations.

Across the road is a strangely weird tent hostel nestled in a low protected space. The tents are placed on raised platforms and a few plastic chairs were added reminders that folks had stayed in those tents. A photo will suffice?

Third Day In Terlingua

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 22:07:00 +0000

I am flat on my back on a canvas covered chaise on a stone terrace overlooking the Chisos Mountains. A fly is buzzing near us, drawn to the covered remains of lunch. I made a big salad in a plastic bowl that I purchased at the Cottonwood General Store in Study Butte this morning after we breakfasted down at the Posada Milagro Internet Cafe.

We also spent a half hour at the Terlingua Trading Post. Saw two wonderful photography books on Big Bend and the folks who live in these environs. Both published by the University of Texas Press and both beautifully designed. Page layouts and use of type was part of their appeal. Did not succumb. Yet.

And now it is almost 4:00 and ES is painting three watercolors simultaneously. Mimi's dog with big brown eyes comes and goes, wanting affection and perhaps, a treat. There are no sounds except for an occasional pickup or motor cycle on the road below. Our days here remind me of those long ago summer days on that island in Maine. Very different surroundings, of course. Maine is not Terlingua, but there is the same stillness, self imposed idleness and vistas that change moment by moment and make looking and seeing worthwhile past times.

A Few More Photos of Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 06:34:00 +0000

What's not to love about decorating Christmas cookies? Very drippy frosting this year.

ES surprised me completely on Christmas. He and Caroline conspired to gift me with an iPad with countless gigabytes. I opened his package on Christmas Eve. Wow! I'd never gotten to the point of coveting an iPad, though two of my daughters say they couldn't live without them. Give me six months and I may be saying the same thing.

Christmas morning with Dad and Mary B. She's the one behind the camera on this one.

Mary B and I found time for a walk in Discovery Park late Christmas Day afternoon. An absolutely beautiful bright blue sun-shiny hour walk. Windy and chilly too.

More and more family photos on Boxing Day at Jeanne's. I so love my three daughters.

And here's Caroline with all four grandchildren. A moment of relative quiet? Maybe.

Happenings: Christmas 2011

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 03:50:00 +0000

Christmas in Seattle is an overbusy haze of family comings-and-goings, each moment filled with a medley of emotions. There is the daily round of visits to domiciles of daughters, dad and sister. Add in Christmas errands and special events and there is rarely down time to contemplate, to blog or to wander off for a walk in Discovery Park. I could offer a simple calendar of events for the last eight days, but that would give little sense of what exactly has made many of these events so special.

Instead, I'm making a list of things that moved me, that I would not have missed experiencing. And remember, I still have four full days before I fly back home to Houston. So this list will no doubt have a supplement. In no particular order of 'specialness', here are moments to savor.

1. It's about Charlie Bean. He is so grown up. What a joy to be greeted by Charlie Bean with a hug and a big smile when I arrived at his house on my first afternoon in Seattle. Charlie is in second grade now. He's grown taller since the beginning of the school year and he stands so, so straight. And he sure can carry on a conversation. I love him.
Charlie is currently immersed in Skylander with its magic portal. When characters are placed on the lit portal, they - and Charlie - enter a magic world. It's another of those games with ever more characters to purchase, but it was fun to hear both Charlie and his mom talk about how Skylander is 'different.'
Here's a paragraph written especially for parents from the Skylander website:
"In Skylanders Spyro’s Adventure, characters are ‘brought to life’ in a boldly innovative adventure game where children can collect real-world toys and teleport them directly into the game using a mystical Portal of Power™.
"Propelled by a story-driven adventure, penned by Academy Award-nominated Toy Story feature film writers, Joel Cohen and Alec Sokolow, children take on the role of a powerful Portal Master, who can control over 30 different characters, including the beloved fire-breathing dragon Spyro.
"Together with their Skylanders, players will embark on a fantastical journey into an amazing world, where they will explore mysterious, mythical lands, battle menacing outlandish creatures, collect gold and treasures, and solve interesting puzzles while on a quest to save their world from Kaos, an evil Portal Master."
This Friday, I'll take Charlie Bean, he who is my very first grandchild, on a field trip. He hasn't yet decided which zoo we will visit. Last December, we spent a day at the Tacoma Zoo. Will we return there or will we visit another?

2. My almost 95 year-old dad read every word of the memoir piece I wrote for "Coping With Transition: Men, Money, Motherhood and Magic." Between its covers, that recently published book holds work by 15 TTN (The Transition Network) Houston members, each writing about their lives, loves and losses. Dad chuckled as he read the description of the wrenching take-over of my studio, albeit a temporary take-over. When he finished, he said, "Mary Margaret, you're a good writer."
I said, "Pretty frank, isn't it, Dad?"
He looked straight at me and answered, "Why not?"
I am happy that my almost 95 year-old dad had the chance to read my first published writing and that he pronounced it 'good writing.'

3. More on books and reading. When my brother, sister and I were kids, Mom gave us each a book, or books, at Christmas. We've continued the tradition. I've always given books to each of my three daughters for Christmas. And they are now giving me books, as is my sister Kate. I have a plethora of new books to read: from Kate, Diane Keaton's "Then, Again" and "Reading Jackie" from Jeanne. From Caroline Jeremy Rivkin's "Global Consciousness in a World in Crisis." I've read abut this book and am glad to have it, even though it's a pretty hefty tome. Needs to be read.
I dropped in at the independent Magnolia Bookstore on the day before Christmas to buy several more book presents. Everyone near and dear to me got at least one book for Christmas. Tradition lives.

4. I love Magnolia at night because of its stillness. This 'village' on the peninsula just northwest of downtown is where my sister lives and where my parents settled when they reached their 80s. And it is filled with stillness and quiet. At night there is no white noise, no distant traffic, no compressors or air conditioners. When I return from a day of house-to-house visiting or leave my sister's house after a late evening visit, I can hear silence. Real silence, stillness. I can feel my whole body go limp as it/I take a deep breath of the silence. A rare experience in 2011.

5. This year I bought the grandchildren boxed sets of Thornton Burgess books. I own a 1914 copy of "The Adventures of Reddy Fox" that my dad received as a Chirstmas gift in 1926. Dad's Burgess books were passed down to my brother, sister and me in the 1950s and I remember reading them to my girls and the Camfield kids in the mid-1970s. Now I'm reading them to my grandchildren. Kelan and I are in the middle of "The Adventres of Peter Rabbit". Last night his dad said, "Kelan, why don't you read Mameau a chapter." And so he did, and so quickly I could barely keep up with the words. What a good reader. I am taking Kelan to Dad's so he read him a chapter or two. Dad will be amazed.

6. Our family still celebrates Christmas Eve with two Danish holiday dishes from the girl's dad's side of the extended family. We begin each Christmas Eve meal with risengrød, a rice porridge sweetened with brown sugar and cream. I have made and/or eaten risengrød every Christmas Eve since 1963. The cook hides an almond in some one's serving and whomever receives the almond also receives a box of chocolate to be immediately shared with everyone at the table. The meal ends with aebleskivers, round ball pancakes covered with maple syrup or a berry jam and confectionery sugar. Caroline made really good gluten-gre aebleskivers this year.

7. Mary B and I drove Dad to Seattle First Baptist Church on Christmas morning and found the church was well filled. This church is so liberal that they were picketed by mid-western Baptists a decade ago for their stands on social issues. The Christmas morning prayer included a plea for God's blessing for those who were alienated from their families because of sexual orientation and another plea that the media would no longer distort the message of Occupy Seattle. You have to love this congregation.
Dad is so deaf, even with hearing aids, that he never hears the sermon or the prayers, but he enjoys the organ and the choir and the several folks who always greet his arrival. Mary B and I were tearful as we three stood together in the pew, both of us listening to Dad's tenor voice as we sang the final hymn "Go Tell It On the Mountain." This song was a part of Mom's choir repertoire and we have her choirs from the 1960s on tapes. We cry when we listen to the tapes too, especially when we hear Dad's tenor voice. Mom used to say 'Dean colors the whole tenor section.' After the benediction, the organist moved to the piano and played quite a jazzy version of "Go Tell It On the Mountain", a la Virginia Avery. We agree with Dad. Church on Christmas morning is a good thing.

There are more memorable happenings, but it's taken me two days to assemble a list of seven. I will write more when I find another chunk of quiet time. And when I am with wi-fi. No wi-fi of late at Arapahoe.
Lauren and I are now off for manicures and pedicures - her special time with Mameau this Christmas. Look at these two cousins on Bonnie Boxing Day - Lulu Bell and Lauren.

A Good Review

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 01:51:00 +0000

Our editor, Susan Briggs Wright, sent us a review of our memoir collection this morning. How nice that Barbara Tayor Sissel's review arrived on Christmas Day. Our book, Coping With Transition: Men, Money, Motherhood and Magic, was published last September by Texas Review Press and now you can buy a copy on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. We'll read at Brazos Books in early spring. Click here to read Sissel's review.

PRINCE in Tacoma

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 06:11:00 +0000

My sister Kate says it all in the blog post that she wrote late last night after we returned from the PRINCE concert at the Tacoma Dome. There is little more that I can add, except that I still love Purple Rain and that song always reminds me of a 1980s trip through Arches National Park in Utah. A friend and I drove into that park with Purple Rain at top volume in my light blue Cadillac sedan. Arches was the perfect place to hear that tape of Purple Rain when it was brand new.

"Remember the 80s?" PRINCE asked the audience before he swept into Purple Rain. Really. What was he thinking? At least half of the folks in the Dome were babies or not even born yet.

I'm glad Kate picked me up at the airport and that we threw my suitcase into the back of her car and drove straight to Tacoma. Wouldn't have missed that concert. Yet, by heaven, the sound was deafening and we both wore the ear plugs she brought along. I always wonder if there is a point where sheer thundering volume totally masks artistry and finesse or the lack thereof. Are volume and heavy heart stopping bass both qualities that draw in the audience? Are they simply expected as an integral part of the spectacle?

And guess what? The audience knew all the words to every song. They stood infront of their seats and waved and danced and sang and shrieked. They love PRINCE.

Right in the middle of the concert, Kate took a photo for her Facebook page and my daughter Jeanne commented at once, "How is it that my mom is at the PRINCE concert tonight and I am not?"

I looked out over the audience again and could see that PRINCE and Purple Rain have staying power. Jeanne was a kid at summer camp when I made that road trip to Arches. But somewhere along the way, she and that young crowd in the Tacoma Dome know that PRINCE sure can sing that song of his and we all love it and him.

Just not the earthshaking volume and bass.

And Where Did the Week Go?

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 02:39:00 +0000

Day after day after day is filled with errands and household tasks, errands and doctor's appointments and then, ever more errands. All of this stuff is juxtaposed with visits with friends, time with ES and plenty of on-going emails and other communications. There is never an end to errands or bill paying or reading the daily NY Times. I am canceling my subscription to the NY Times until mid to late January. I cannot keep up with it.
ES asked me last evening what I was going to do with that foot high pile of newspapers by the kitchen table. I told him I planned to read and sort through them before I fell asleep. So, my side of the bed was stacked with newsprint and I plowed through one section after another while he continued his long read of 'Absolute Monarchs, A History of the Papacy' by John Julius Norwich. It seems to me that he has been reading this book forever and has found it very intriguing. Sonny Garza is also reading this book. I know because at the last Gulfgate TIRZ board meeting, we spoke about it. How this book came up in conversation, I do not remember. Perhaps after the first of the year, I need to get Sonny and ES together to discuss this tome?

Back to errands. Every couple of days, I make lists and find that I scratch through many of the items, so I do indeed get a sense of 'moving the meter' as Cindy K. used to say. But in the end, what is really accomplished? Do I get into my studio ever? That new work keeps swirling in my head, unattended. This week, my studio became an item on my list: clear and straighten after Sunday's successful crochet trunk show. Done. Last Sunday's trunk show at Mel's house was great. Twelve sales. I love to see what women choose. Takes me back to those selling days at Saks and Bloomingdale's. I digress a bit. Thank you, Mel.
Other items on my errand list: get myself to Ritz Camera in Rice Village and have photos made for some collages in my head that involve images of last year's trip to Terlingua.
Also want photos of me shopping at Buc-ee's that I can use as gift tags for a particular Christmas gift I bought for family members at this emporium of the highways. Remember that on the way home from Dallas, we stopped at Buc-ee's in Madisonville for gas, a bottle of water and a pee. I was enthralled with Buc-ee's merchandising. They do it so well. They so know their customers. In Madisonville, I found a particular display of goods that appealed even to me, but only after we were well on our way again, did I think of family members who might love what was in that display.
So, this past Wednesday morning, I channeled my Grandmother Shirley May Keyes Thompson and with ES, got up early and left for a Buc-ee's closer to Houston than Madisonville. That would be just east of Wharton, TX. There I would purchase Christmas presents for an ever expanding list.

ES and I were efficient. We left at 8:00 a.m. and were back in Houston by 11:00 a.m. with goods in tow. Gramma T, sometimes it's a good thing to channel you as in "You an idea in your head, well, just get in the car and take off and go." I could say more about this habit of my paternal grandmother, but it's really the stuff of another post.
There were far more errands this week than the road trip to Buc-ee's. Made a visit to G&M shoes, where my boots were not yet ready. I drove on to Texas Art Supply to buy mats for some of ES's small watercolors that I will take as gifts to Seattle. Picked up at prescription at CVS. Took two DVDs of photos to the director of the new Houston Permitting Center and while I was there, I checked to see that my photo ID works to get into restricted areas. It does work, so after the holidays I can take more folks on tours to look at the art.
At Whole Foods, I picked up more bottles of kombucha and a head of organic cabbage. I seem to be consuming generous quantities of both. Went to the bank to inquire about the need to open a business account. The answer was no. My current checking accounts are working just fine.
These errands are interspersed with tasks at home: several loads of towels and sheets and clothes were washed and dried, meals were prepared and eaten, the dishwasher was filled and emptied three times, mail was sorted, the bed was made most of the time. What else do I do in this house? I don't sweep the floors. Not good, but I don't.

Attended a Greater East End District board meeting on Thursday afternoon that was followed by their annual holiday celebration for the board and guests. Both Senator Gallegos and State Representative Carol Alvarado made an appearance. Very happy to see them at the district offices.

Also went to the UT dermotology clinic one more time. Got a hair cut with Kat. Twice called the opthomologist at Eyes Are Precious to see if she found a pair of Jean Paul Gaultier frames I left with her two years ago. She remembers them and I hope she find them. If I looked at my lists, I'd write more. Such was the week.
Today is Saturday and again, I set out on errands - punctuated by a very special visit to see Elizabeth's new baby boy. Yes, he's here and he's beautiful.
But first: an allergy shot at McGovern Clinic in Bellaire (this is a weekly errand). Picked up those boots from G& M Shoe Repair. Picked up photos from Ritz Camera in Rice Village. Bought olive oil at the Fiesta on Dunlavy, which by the way is directly across the street from the very new and fancy Central Market. I haven't darkened their door yet.
And then to Elizabeth's to see new baby boy Matthew or perhaps, Mettao. That visit will have its own post on this blog. Elizabeth and my daughter Mary B were babies together. Sally and I were nursing moms together. The Poe Cooperative Nursery School was born while we were both nursing.

What an experience to hold this newborn and hear about his birth and remember when. I'll write more soon about this new baby in our extended family.

On to artists' studios on Hardy Street where I met neighbors. Catarina Williams was showing vibrant city skyline paintings again, many interspersed with animal cutouts. I love her turreted colorful castle-like buildings. Bianca Diaz was exhibiting some of her color photographs and there was Mary Lu de la Fuentes, proud grandmother.

While at the studios on Hardy Street, I found more work by Lowbrow Pilgrim, all of it bizarre. I bid on a terrific and weird piece of his at this year's Lawndale Day of the Dead exhibition, but when bidding topped $300 I stopped. I love the way his pieces have moving parts and are plugged into the wall, cord trailing. Someday I may own one?

I am home now and just finished another cabbage salad with capers and Paul Newman's Caesar salad dressing. There is one more task ahead of me before I can even look in the direction of the studio. I must update my resume for a potential art consulting job. And that will take care of today's daylight hours.
This evening ES and I will have supper with Beth Collins Wray and then head to the Art Car Museum'sSeventh Annual Open Call Exhibtion.
Maybe tomorrow I'll give myself a few hours in the studio (really? after I update my resume?) and then pack my bag for Monday's trip to Seattle.

Lunch at One Shell Plaza

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 22:24:00 +0000

So many years have passed since I moved to Houston, TX. I've made a good life here, raised three daughters, developed professional careers, work as an artist and consultant, enjoy a wonderful network of friends and colleagues. Houston is my home. So where am I going with this?
Well, today, I was invited to lunch at the Plaza Club on the 49th floor of One Shell Plaza and the place itself provoked intense memories. So did the conversations of the women with whom I lunched.
In 1967, my former husband and I moved to Houston from New York City by way of Chicago, he to work for Gerald Hines Interests and seek his fortune. His first day on the job, there was a ground breaking for One Shell Plaza. The building is a part of our history together.
I was 25 years old. In six months, I will be 70 years old. So that means that One Shell Plaza is fifty years old. Can that be? Maybe. I've just subtracted 1967 from 2012 and I get 45 years, not 50. Yet I know I was 25 in 1967 and I will be 70 in 2012. I am not good with numbers. I have friends who can attest to that. Will that friend who is especially good with numbers comment and let me know what's going on here?

Onward with my story. One Shell Plaza is entirely clad in Italian travertine; its lobbies and even its elevator cabs are coated with travertine. I remember travertine was big back then. My former husband brought a sample slab home that we used for years as a table top on our deck. At some point it broke in two and all I have is the smaller piece which I've always thought could well be used as a platter for a buffet table. At least, I've saved it to use as a platter, always thinking it would do nicely when serving smoked salmon or sliced beef tenderloins. Again, I digress.
There were four of us at lunch and as we settled into conversation, I wondered at the serendipity of our being together. How do you choose people to share lunch in a particular setting? Who knows? Three of us are part of The Transition Network local chapter, the fourth woman I met just today.

We sat at our table, high over downtown, looking west toward the Galleria and beyond. My eyes wandered beyond our table, surveying the Plaza Club. I began to think about my marriage and I thought about the way big buildings come to be. I pondered my past as I lunched in that serene, well carpeted, quiet place with fine food, unobtrusive service and tables with stiff white linens.

And as we ate smoked solmon, stuffed chicken breasts, steamed vegtables and salad, the conversation veered toward first marriages. All of us had them. Two at the table are happily remarried.
What surprised me is that as we spoke about these first husbands, we seemed to be telling the same story. How it was having kids with these men, how it was to take verbal abuse, how it was to stay in these marriages because it was the only marriage we knew and we could indeed try harder.
How common is it for four women to share lunch together and suddenly discover that we had very similar first marriages? For me, it was especially poignant, because I was conversing at the Plaza Club at One Shell Plaza. The place itself brought memories and feelings I'd not had for a long time.

FreeForm Crochet Trunk Show

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 05:40:00 +0000

It's been several years since I've had a friend host a trunk show for all that freeform crochet neck wear I compulsively, obsessively made throughout George Bush's second term as president of these United States. I was in such a funk that crocheting became my solace. I went nuts without a hook in my hand.
This Sunday seemed a good time to show and sell more of this quite lovely work. I've spent the evening gathering the inventory and putting tiny price tags on each neck riff and capelet. I love this stuff and it's been fun to unpack it all and try each piece on again, one by one. I gave a lot of little 'ohs and ahs' as I went through the boxes. Remember this one? Remember that?

So, if you read this and would like to know where Sunday's trunk show will be, leave a comment at the bottom of the post and I'll forward you the address by return email. It'll be great.

I Like BUC-EE'S

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 02:02:00 +0000

Who knew? ES and I stopped for gas near Madisonville, TX on our way back to Houston this afternoon and I went into BUC-EE'S for a bottle of water. And I fell in love with the place. Right. Who knew? That this could happen? To me?
On my way in, I remembered my first and only other visit to a BUC-EE'S. A year or two ago, my friend Irina and I wandered into one on the way back from San Antonio. I remember two things about our stop. I bought a box of mixed fudge for us - or, really for me - to savor for the rest of our car trip. I also walked straight into the men's restroom, instead of turning left into the women's rest room. Saw the urinals and opps, backed up and out.
That's my memory of BUC-EE'S. But today, BUC-EE'S is on my hot-list. What? Yup, it's the truth. And the reason that I love BUC-EE'S is that they are such good merchandiser's. They absolutely know what they are doing. Absolutely every item in that store is planned and placed to sell quickly and easily. Everything is packaged just so, much of it sports their logo.
After looking at the multitudes of what looked like really freshly made sandwiches, I nearly walked out with two. Just because. What's going on here? There was a counter-like surface covered with monitors in front of several spacious prepared food counters. Just like checking in for a flight. Point to an object on the monitor and it's prepared especially for you. You just have to remember your number. They'll announce it throughout the store over a loudspeaker.
I saw lots of employees, all busy, all engaged, all in red tee shirts with logos. Lots of young high-school age employees in those red tee-shirts - all looking happy to have a job, but maybe making minimum wage and working without benefits? That may be unfair. I do not know what their wages or hours are.
I went into the women's restroom, veering away from the men's room this time. Big, very clean, no wet floors, spacious stalls. Who could not be impressed and happy to be there? Goodbye to Exxon and Shell and Valero's often messy, untended restrooms. And the artwork displayed just outside the restrooms is so Texas. Cowboys and an oil field. Don't you know they sell lots of those framed pictures for dens all over this state?
I wandered down the aisles, just taking it all in. Coca-Cola served up - just like an old-fashioned ice-house would. My favorite cherry sours. Back in the day, I'd have bought a couple of packages right on the spot and eaten the first package in one sitting.This afternoon, my thought was, "They're totally high fructose corn syrup and artificial flavoring and very bad red dye." I did NOT buy even one package. But, I did buy a piece of orange vanilla fudge just because I couldn't help myself. Sugar or corn syrup? Who knows?I could have purchased a pair of boxer shorts or a baseball cap just covered with BUC-EE'S logo. ES says many of his students at Lone Star College wear BUC-EE'S tee shirts. How did I not know about this Texas phenomenon? The Houston Chronicle's Alison Cook asked herself the same question in 2009 - follow this link and read all the answers and advice she received from true believers. I just may be a true believer at this moment because they merchandise their store SO WELL. It's so obvious. They know their market.
Finally, I gathered my thoughts. Remembered that I'd come in for a plain bottle of water. Yet even when I concentrated on water, I was again impressed with BUC-EE'S merchandising. Want a beverage? Look in the center of the store right behind the check-out counters. See 20-30 linear feet filled with choices of sparkling drinks. Another 10-20 feet lined with assorted coffee machines.
And that plain bottle of water? Well, that was way, way in the right hand back corner of BUC-EE'S. Available, of course, but how many shoppers are going to get past that bank of super size beverage dispensers for a plain bottle of water?
I could have done Christmas shopping. I realized after I left the store that I'd seen perfect gifts for Caroline and Queta. There is no BUC-EE'S mail order catalogue. I've already checked on-line. Now, I'll have to drive to Pearland - the nearest BUC-EE'S from Houston, to get those two gifts.
In a daze, I left the store and began to walk toward the spot where I'd left ES refilling the gas tank. A lady tapped me on the arm and said gently, "I think someone is trying to get your attention. Are you with him?"
And there was ES, reparked near the main door, patiently waiting. "What were you doing in there?"
"Oh, I wish you'd seen. Every bit of it," I said to ES. "BUC-EE'S is an absolutely terrific merchandiser. It's just perfect."

Jean Paul Gaultier in Dallas

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 05:00:00 +0000

Bustiers with intricate stitching, ribbons and laces. A gallery back lit with blue with mannequins that spoke and moved their eyes and wore fairy tale metaphorical garments. A camouflage ballgown made with yards and yards of ruffed tulle.
I was mesmerized by the Jean Paul Gaultier installation at the Dallas Art Museum. Last summer, I missed the Alexander McQueen exhibition in New York at the Met. I didn't intend to miss Jean Paul Gaultier in Dallas. So, on Friday morning, ES and I spent several hours immersed in Gaultier's world. No photos allowed and I really struggled with that, eventually began to take notes of what I was seeing. Found photos on-line, but they don't really evoke my experience.Five themed galleries, the first being filled with a circle of mannequins with eyes that suddenly moved and then lips that spoke incomprehensible words, but evocative of times past, memories revisited. It took me minutes before I looked overhead and saw the sleep projects that focused on each faced, giving it recorded expressions and words.A series of gowns in that first gallery, was each a variation of intricate applique of photo images and milagros on lace and crochet figure hugging gowns. Then a group of sailor blue and white striped knit gowns that appeared simply at the neck and gradually become covered with ever widening rows of tiny feathers of white and blue that kept the sailor stripes moving downward slowing transforming a sailor tee into a ballgown.
There were mermaids with shell breastplates and lame fins. I struggled to remember the details and they faded as quickly as morning dreams.A second gallery was titled Boudoir. The central core of the room was a room sized cube covered with padded, quilted pancake make-up pink fabric. Each side of the cube had a window that featured intricately crafted bustiers, some of which were designed for and worn by Madonna. Huge photographs of Madonna lined two walls and quite frankly, these photos, as well as all the photo images and video throughout the exhibition, were far better, or more enticing, than all of Helmut Newtons' photographs I saw recently at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston.
There was one poignant tableau in the Boudoir gallery. I proper lady, again speaking and looking at the viewer, wore a garment made entirely of rosette ribbons sewed together to make open squares. She carried a matching parasol of open squared ribbons. Nearby was an end table that held a 1950s television with suggestion programing from that era. Was she was 'left behind', caught in a time warp, betrayed, jilted or was this tableau merely a stab at nostalgiaNear her on the wall was a tiny dog-eared teddy bear with two Madonna-like quilted breasts sewn on its faded chest. Did the teddy bear belong to the lady wearing ribbons with rosettes? The tableau was haunting. It worked.
I'll write more. There is no book in print that details the installation in Dallas. The catalogue is more about the life and times of Jean Paul Gaultier than what we saw in the galleries. Here is a You Tube commentary on the Dallas installation. And another clip. And still another. And here's a bit of the exhibition from You Tube as it played in Montreal. None of the clips quite capture what I experienced, but they do give a sense of the installation. I have the sense that all the short videos were made clandestinely as I guess I could have done. Opps, perhaps a second trip to Dallas?
Gaultier made body suits that showed muscles and sinews and blood vessels. Lots of laced up leggings with this body suit. Another model carried a small purse that was a sequined red heart.
Surely this Indian chief is a Gautier bride? ES said she'd be overwhelming to watch walk down the aisle toward her groom. She was a goddess.This ball gown was whit tulle and its lining was a 360 degree series of legs in black net stockings. Knock-out.There were more details and garments that I loved. Will find photos of them. Off to bed. I can see the Dallas skyline from our hotel room. We are staying at The Belmont and that deserves its very own blog post. Love it.

Reinactment Photo: From Times Square to the Amon Carter Museum

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 01:30:00 +0000

This afternoon ES and I were crossing the parking lot for a visit to the Amon Carter Museum when a young woman approached to ask if we knew about a nearby civil war monument. We did not not. Turns out that she and her husband were on a scavenger hunt - for what charity, she could not tell me. She simply said, "We watch too much TV, so we decided to get out of the house today."
Then she paused and asked, "Have you seen this photograph?" Of course, we've seen this photograph by Alfred Eisenstaedt titled 'V-J Day in Times Square' and taken on August 13, 1945.
"We supposed to take a photo of a couple kissing just like that." So ES and I obliged before we went into the Amon Carter Museum where we were blown away by the John Marin exhibition.

Monday Evening After A Day At Powell's Books and Other Places

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 03:53:00 +0000

For the first time ever, I spent as much time as I wanted to at Powell's City of Books, that book emporium that covers a full city block in downtown Portland. Always before, I was touring with and we'd walk into Powell's, look at one another and then look at our watches and say something like, "Shall we meet back here in 30 minutes?" Always too short. Better not to go in at all. Today was different. I had my fill for one day. Not that I couldn't have taken a break and then returned for the evening hours. It's that wonderful.

Queta drove me down into the Pearl neighborhood and I spent a little time in Anthropologie, simply because it is across the street from Powell's. They have such creative displays - this time a full window was filled with a montage of old color slides - a great mass of them.

Took a close up photo of a few of the slides and right in the middle is one from Round Top TX - a slides taken of an old photo of cattle crossing a highway. You just never know what you're going to find.

Went into Eden, a new off shoot of Flutter up on Mississippi Street. I was not excited by Eden, though I wanted to be excited. I liked their on-line 'look-book' and was eager to see the shop itself. Several years ago, when I first went into Flutter, I was beside myself, because it was so eccentric. Maybe I am jaded, but neither Eden or Flutter was as weird and wonderful as I wanted them to be. Went in next door to Porch Light, another small shop filled with carefully collected 'old things', often recycled into something smart and new. Small hanging lights, for instance, that reminded me of the lights I made with drilling pipe sections from Baker Hughes scrap metal for Second Seating.

Nice, nice shop with lots of things I could live with. Was also reminded of the old Stuart & Stevenson plant on Harrisburg that Martin Chavez and I walked through years ago, looking for things that would 'say S&S and East End history' for the Greater East End Management District offices. We did get some treasures, but I'll bet the rest of it all went to scrap metal. What a pity. Porch Light had a quiet serenity about it as well as elements of a curiosity cabinet.

But onward. Powell's Books was there waiting. And I wandered in this book store for over five hours. Never left to go to lunch or find the chocolate shop. No. After a couple of hours on the main floor, I simply took a flight of stairs and looked at more and more books, finally gathering a pile to ship back to Houston. I did hold on to several for the trip tomorrow. Suddenly it was 4:15 and I realized that Mary B would be through with her work day within minutes. We hooked up and went to a raw food place where we ate very healthy salads with kale and toasted sesame seeds.

Took the bus back to North Portland and once in the house, I ate some more smoked turkey. I am full now and sleepy.

By the way, I spent over an hour in the cook book section of Powell's, photographing recipes that I loved. Went through of The Barefoot Contessa cookbooks.

Sally's been cooking from one of them and every vegetable dish she prepares of late has been divine. So I took note of these books.

Photographed a recipe for roasted asparagus. It'll be on my menu when I return home.

Also found a recipe for monk fish or scallops covered with a mixture of Maldon salt and a crushed rose petal.

Also found a book on food fermentation and since fermented foods are supposed to be really healthy for me right now and I do love kombacha, kimchi and sauerkraut, how could I resist?From cook books I was on to fashion and fashion designers and then upstairs to find Deborah Turbeville's new book, of which there was one copy. I liked it. Lots of photography books that kept me occupied for over an hour.

And then there were shelves and shelves or scriptwriting how-to books and actual copies of screen plays. I found a second hand copy of three Horton Foote movie scripts including 'The Road to Bountiful.' I'll read those and then watch the movies again. And again. Also bought a book with advice about how to develop strong women characters.

Finally made my way down to the cashiers.

On the way to the bus, Mary and I passed one of Portland's many Benson Bubblers. In 1912, a Mr. Benson felt that loggers and laborers drank too much beer at lunch time. There were no public water fountains. Well, he saw to it that water fountains were placed all over downtown Portland.

Click on bubblers for a complete history of this Portland legacy. Benson Bubblers are a big deal and quite lovely to look at along the sidewalks. They really do still function.

Here's more info on the bubblers:

Bubbler Facts

Drinking water is fresh and NOT recycled, fountains are cleaned routinely
The Bubblers flow freely from 6:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m., daily.
The fountains run 365 days per year unless a cold snap or excessively windy weather forces the Water Bureau to temporarily shut them down.
The fountains serve up Bull Run drinking water!

Benson Bubbler Legacy

In 1912, Simon Benson, a local businessman and philanthropist, donated $10,000 to the City of Portland to purchase and install 20 bronze drinking fountains, now known as Benson Bubblers.

Local folklore tells us that Simon Benson donated the 20 bronze drinking fountains as an effort to keep loggers out of the saloons at lunchtime. Others say that Benson was inspired after seeing a little girl crying at a 4th of July parade because she couldn't find a drink of water. Either way, the Benson Bubblers have become a historical and enduring legacy here in Portland.

Monday Morning

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 15:47:00 +0000

It is almost 8 a.m. and the house is quiet. Mary left for work 40 minutes ago at the break of day. Street lights were still on and she assured me that hundreds of people are up and about getting themselves to public transportation stops. She rarely drives her car to work. It is easy to walk to the transit stop and without a car there are no downtown daily parking fees. Queta left minutes ago for an early meeting. All I can hear in the house is the heater as it comes on and off. There is a light fog outside and Max the cat is ensconced on new couch.

I've just stirred a glass of a dry powder supplement with Kombucha as part of a new regimen. the Kombucha is not part of the new regimen. It's just that I've fallen in love with Kombucha. Discovered it first at the farmer's market in Ballard on my last trip to Seattle. Now exploring many different brands from Whole Foods and Portland's local equivalent. Kombucha is a divine beverage that reminds me of hard apple cider without any sweet taste. Almost vinegar-like, in a good way. It tastes something like ginger ale used to taste before high fructose syrup ruined its sparkling non-sweetness. In any case, for me Kombucha is a restorative beverage. I pull a bottle out of the refrigerator several times each day for a swig. Refreshing, but I am finding that it's not thirst quenching like a plain glass of water.

I've had a lovely nine days here in Portland. Once a year I fly here to spend time with Mary B and Queta. By my arrival time, they had just completed six months work on their downstairs bathroom, new red steps to said bathroom and bamboo walled big room with fireplace and bed alcove. Lovely. All of it.

One uninterrupted week each year is not too much to spend with a daughter. Wish I could do the same with my two other daughters. I fly to Seattle often, but my time is chopped and diced because there is an entire tribe there. Two daughters and husbands, four grandchildren, my 94 year old Dad and my sister and her husband. (Kate's two kids don't live in Seattle, but they are nearby.)

Time is Seattle is spread thin among so many. That's why it's nice when daughters come to Houston every year or so. As Jeanne says, "I wish you were close enough that we could just stop by for quick visits, share a meal, a cup of coffee or a walk." That would be wonderful, yet I don't see the likelihood of a move that would allow for that easy, continuous visiting back and forth. Houston is my home.

Yet so much of my family felt the call of the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps once my sister and her family settled there, it was a no-brainer to follow, that is, if Houston was not the place any of my daughters wanted to be. Somehow, their migration seems OK to me. I cannot quite imagine us all together in Houston. How different life would be with big holiday dinners at Rockbridge and lots of grandchildren-tending. In what parts of Houston would each girl have settled?

The fog is lifting. A neighbor's two little boys and their toddler sister just pulled their bikes up in the front of the house, no doubt looking for Mary and Queta. I opened the shade and waved to them. They and their mom are all bundled up with warm water repellent parkas, out for a morning excursion.

Tomorrow morning I fly home to Houston where ES tells me it has been cold and rainy. So coat time in Houston too. This last day in Portland, I am going downtown for a leisurely few hours at Powell's Books and then perhaps find the shop that sells shots of liquid chocolate. Will meet Mary at the end of her work day and perhaps we'll have supper downtown and after the rush of commuter traffic , we'll take public transportation home.

My suitcase is almost all packed to leave tomorrow. What more can I say? It's been a fine week with lots of walks and conversations. I've read two books: Susan Cheever's 'Louisa May Alcott' and Bibi Gaston's 'The Loveliest Woman in America', read parts of 'Dangerous to Your Health, Capitalism in Health Care' by Vicente Navarro and 'Art in the Public Interest' edited by Arlene Raven. I have longed for picture books and found myself ordering two Turbeville books from Amazon that will be waiting for me in Houston. However, I know that by 6:00 this evening, I'll be sated with big picture books, having spent hours at Powell's sitting on the floor near shelves of fashion, interior design, architecture and photography tomes.

That's it for this Monday morning.

Glitter Skull

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 04:37:00 +0000

Forgot to mention that I decided I couldn't live without this painting of ES's from the 1970s, back in the day. Dorothy Hood left my living room wall last Friday, loaned to a friend. In her place is this glitter covered skull. It works on that yellow wall and makes me want to make the whole room a much sparer space. One doesn't need much with this on the wall. What's not to love?

MMH Engrossed

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 03:25:00 +0000

Great Day in Portland

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 02:28:00 +0000

Bright sun, blue skies, puffy clouds and golden leaves on the ground. Perfect day for just a bit of downtown shopping errands. Queta needed a new journal and while she searched for that, I found a 2012 daybook that includes not only weekly calendars, but space for numbers and notes at the end of each week, maps of cities like New York, Rome, London, Paris, Montreal, weather conditions, phrases in many languages. I like this little chocolate brown leather book.

Mary and I passed Popina's, Portland's own line of bathing suits. Who knew that I needed a new bathing suit, but I found one - deep royal blue with ruching across that bump under my navel. I did not buy a Popina swim suit, but another brand that they carry. In either case, I am set for anything that might take place on or near a beach.

Shortly after noon, we met Jeri at Pambiche, a colorful funky Cuban restaurant. Great menu - Cuban sanwiches, ensaladas, empanadas, croquetas, frituras and platanos. Plus lots of rice and black beans, camarones and pescado. So much to love.

We all split what we characterized as the best pineapple up-side-down cake we'd ever tasted. filled with coconut and ornamented with shaved almonds and glaze. Lots of music in the place and the mid-day sun made the colors in the room bounce. I'd eat there again tomorrow. There's a lot on that menu.

Went on to Jeri's house for more conversation and the chance to see how in love she is with her new dog Niko. She found him at The Humane Society and he is special.

Home before that early darkness set in, so Mary B and I took an hour's walk in the neighborhood. Streets are lined with trees losing red and orange and yellow leaves. Each block is beautiful. So now we are tucked in for the night and I suspect I'll fill another place with slices of smoked turkey, cranberry sauce and whatever else we happen to pull out of the refrigerator.

The Descendants

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 04:00:00 +0000

Mary B and I went to downtown Portland for a 5:05 p.m. screening of "The Descendants" with George Clooney. A really good movie, based on a 2007 debut novel by Kaui Hart Hemmings. A compelling people story, no flying bullets, no car chases. Rather, one deep, almost out of control emotion after another. A family in grave crisis. Together, they pull through and do the right things. George Clooney's seventeen year old screen daughter Alexandra, played by Shailene Woodley, is terrific.

Between Turkey and Pumpkin Pie

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 00:03:00 +0000

Nothing like a walk in cold, windy, rainy weather after mounded plates of turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce and veggies. Such a walk clears the head and is supposed to be a healthy thing to do before indulging in wide pieces of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream and freshly brewed coffee.

And now we three all sit with our lap tops, conversing, and checking out all sorts of things on-line. How 2011 of us.

Thanks, Mary and Queta for a fine Thanksgiving repast. Brussels spouts sauteed with mustard and maple syrup and eaten with thick slices of smoked turkey - hmmm, a standout.

Thanksgiving Day

noreply@blogger.com (MMH) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 19:51:00 +0000

It's early afternoon and much of Thanksgiving dinner is in the oven Mary and Queta are giggling on the couch and Huffington Post's on-line Thanksgiving song picks are giving us Americana soundtracks. We've checked in with most all the family. John picked up dinner for 20+ at Houston's Central Market and Tanner and Greg and the baby girls flew in from Florida. His house is full. They are all probably sitting around that big table in their dining room right now.

Called Dad at 10:30 this morning and told him what we were sauteing onions, parsley and celery for the stuffing, halving Brussels spouts, slicing smoked turkey. Mary picked fresh sage and thyme from their garden for the stuffing.

Dad is going to Kate's house for dinner at 2:00. Left a message for Kate. Mary made the mashed potatoes, loaded with butter.

Spoke with Caroline and she is preparing vegetable dishes and two gluten free pies for a repast with the McGrady's. Jeanne called twice this morning for stuffing instructions. Apparently Jeanne's already noted this stuffing-making process on her Facebook page. Queta carved up the smoked turkey. We agreed we should have cut into this turkey days ago.

ES spent the morning watching Jay and his contingent deep frying turkeys in his driveway. He'll take one of these fried turkeys to the Botts - they are probably eating it as I write.

And at this moment, Al Green is filling the house with his incomparable rhythms and soft voice sexy voice. Huffington Post - good for you for choosing Al Green for Thanksgiving.

Thank you universe, for all my family and that man of mine.