Willow Ball

Excitement never ends. First a family wedding and now the third annual Willow Ball. I can hardly wait! Click on this link for more information about the Willow Ball. You are invited, too!

First I'm going to have a long soak in a bubble bath.

Then I will twist up my hair in a simple little knot and spray a discreet little spray of Chanel No. 5.

I had thought about this designer dress by Christian Siriano (from Project Runway) but then I decided ... no

So I decided on this simple little number that I found on frenchnovelty.com . I believe it is a copy of a Selena Gomez Oscar gown. (I hope Selena is not attending!)

Then I will slip on my shiny little Jimmy Choos ...

and my ruby earrings ...

and run out to meet my date - no, not Simon Baker. It is his alter ego, Patrick Jane, from the "Mentalist". Won't he make the most interesting observations about all the guests? I love his eyes. I think he deserves a little fun. He works so hard.

We are riding in his interesting little car, a Citroen DS21... He was going to borrow a sports car from a friend, but check out this video of what happened to the last car he borrowed. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_Kf1rcBAGw

I'm so glad I picked the second dress. We would never have gotten all those pink ruffles into his car. See you at the ball!!!

Wedding Food

Tracy, our hostess

The wedding was actually Tuesday night, not Sunday. On Sunday I'm sure we were eating fast food on the way to Williamsburg. I don't have any pictures of the food table but there was macaroni salad, two kinds of potato salad, baked ham, roast beef, turkey, fruit and green salads and all sorts of interesting appetizers. The wedding cake was a combination of yellow and chocolate cake with rich chocolate icing. The top layer came back in the car with us and is now in my freezer. I have included uncensored pictures of Tracy's charming kitchen which is overflowing with homemade food and flowers for the wedding. For more wedding pictures, check my other blog: http://www.grandmasunday.blogspot.com/

Chicken and Yellow Rice

Sunday supper really was simple. Yellow rice and black beans, fresh corn and sauteed frozen chicken tenders. Simple, but it tasted great. I put some leftover diced red pepper in the rice along with my usual Italian seasoning and a little hot sauce for me. We were very hungry. I had to take the picture quickly before Roger started to attack it. If you look closely, you can see the steam coming off the beans.

Window - Magpie #31

Here is my entry for Magpie Tales #31. Click on the link to see the other entries.

Maybe it's the Virgin Mary, but I'm not Catholic. Or a nun. Or an angel. Maybe it is me. I always knew part of me would never leave that room after the baby died. She was such a pretty, happy little baby. And she got sick so fast and then she was gone. I thought it would be all right. Why, she smiled at me just a while before she stopped breathing. It was different back then. We didn't have all these fancy hospitals. Just an old country doctor. Babies were born at home back then and sometimes they died at home. I'm glad I came back after all these years. Glad to see this miracle through the nursery window. Now I know my little girl is not alone.

Apple - Magpie Tales #30

Here is my entry for Magpie Tales #30. Follow the link to see the other entries.

***

I can never sleep late at the beach. A small crack of light peeks through the blinds. Everyone else is sleeping. I quietly slip out of bed and grab my new magazine and an apple. Outside, I find a deck chair and watch the gray water heaving forward on the white sand and retreating again. It sounds as if the world is breathing. Seagulls soar above calling raucously. Soon I will start the coffee. We'll take a walk along the beach and go out for breakfast. The long weekend stretches ahead. The sky begins to turn pink. . .

***

It is a warm Indian Summer afternoon. The sun is shining through the shifting leaves of red and yellow. I can hear the creek trickling over the rocks. I sit on the wooden steps of the front porch. The sun is warm but the breeze is chilly. A pot of spicy gumbo simmers on the stove inside. I feel hungry thinking about it. I put down my magazine and grab a fresh-picked apple from the basket. I stroll down the path toward the river where the children are wading along the shore. I can hear them laughing. . .

***

It is my first morning in a beautiful stone villa overlooking the sea. It is dark and cool inside. I open the shutters to the brilliant sun and bright blue sky. Sailboats bob in the sparkling water below. I go out to the little wrought iron table on my private balcony with an apple and an American magazine thinking of the adventure that awaits me. . .

***

I'm jolted out of my thoughts as the phone rings at my elbow. The gray walls of my cubicle close around me. I sigh and toss the apple core and the empty sandwich bag into the trash can. Lunch break is over.

Wedding Shower Food for Supper

Our Sunday supper was left over wedding shower food. We had a fancy store-bought chocolate cake and a homemade carrot cake, white sangria, fruit salad, vegetable tray, homemade bean dip and lots of wonderful little frozen appetizers that Jaime brought. Fun was had by all. Pictures of the shower are on my other blog http://grandmasunday.blogspot.com/. The centerpiece is actually a bride bouquet made of velvet roses in Stephanie's wedding color of raspberry along with dark red. Found it at Val's Basket Warehouse in Tampa.

The Bed by the Window

Did you ever hear of the story "The Bed by the Window"? My friend mentioned it years ago in reference to a sermon she heard. It intrigued me so much that I searched for it. Finally, I found the story on the internet, but it was much darker than I expected. Recently, I found out why. Apparently this story was considered a cliche before I was even born. The original short story by Allan Seager was published under the title, "The Street" in Vanity Fair magazine in 1934. In 1946, the plot turned up in a book called, "101 Plots Used and Abused."

In the story, two wounded veterans occupy adjoining cots in a hospital. Both are bed-ridden but one man has a view of the window. He recounts stories to the other man about the wonderful happenings outside. Eventually, the first man dies and the second man begs for the bed by the window. When he is finally transferred there, he looks out to see only a blank brick wall. In the darker version, the second man actually kills or fails to get help for the first man so that he can get the coveted bed. Ironically, he kills his own source of joy. There are so many versions of this story that it is now considered an urban legend.

This also makes me think of a Twilight Zone episode. At least I think it was Twilight Zone but I have been unable to find it. A soldier is killed in battle and his buddy comes to his home to meet and talk to his family. Apparently this soldier told everyone of a wonderful childhood and described all the people he knew. When his buddy gets there he finds mean, angry people and a slum in the city where the two street signs on the corner make up the name of the soldier's imaginary home town.

What are we doing when we blog but sharing our own unique visions? In our own heads, the stories we tell ourselves may be all that is left when time and fate change our outside views. Society highly values and rewards those who can look at the blank wall and tell us wonderful stories. Meanwhile, I enjoy hearing your stories and sharing my own with you.

Memorable Meals

An old joke with my son. I asked him one day, "What was your favorite meal that I made when you were growing up?" And he said, "I always liked your Taco Bell."

I remember what it was like in those days. And that long marriage that didn't last. Always in a hurry. Rush from work, pick up the kids at day care, always stressed to get there on time and come into a messy house and try to figure out what to have for supper with my little toddler fussing at my knees. I know I cooked. I even have pictures of us at the table, but I cannot remember those meals.

One Sunday, years later, I thought of work the next day and lamented that the weekend was over. But not quite. Why not make a special supper and invite my bachelor brother to join us? Something slow cooked, savory and comforting. And that is when it began. We had special suppers every Sunday night. I was taking care of my ailing mother at the time. Sometimes we set up TV trays and watched "60 Minutes" while we ate. My mom and my brother would get out the Scrabble board or Trivial Pursuit. Everyone talks of those meals now.

A few years later, dating the man who would become my husband late in life. He would cook for me. He called it a weird role reversal but it was his house, after all. We would have a glass of wine on the porch. He would make a salad and grill some steaks, checking his watch to get it just right. Now I cook but we have wine with supper. Almost every night like a date night.

Can it be true that by just deciding to make it memorable, it becomes so for everyone involved? That is what Simple Sunday Supper is all about.