Summer: You've Gotta Love It!

'Nuf said!

An Award!

I was delighted to receive this award from Bobbi at My Muse and Me.

Bobbie is one who always posts on "Write on Wednesday."

Thank you, Bobbi!

I'm passing it on (the rules say you must pass it on to 10 others, or...

"According to Cyberspace rules in the eUniverse of eAwards, acceptance of this Excellent Blog Award requires me to tag nominate 10 virtual victims excellent Bloggers.

From the Heart (Cami)

Nature Trail

Herzblatt (Iris)

The Lavender Loft (Janet)

Jill's Junk to Jewels

A Whimsical Bohemian (Lisa)

Garden Goose (Tina)

From the HeART (Beth)

My Thoughts by Dawn

Linda Jo's Obsessions

Please do stop by and say "hello" to these women!

Relax!

Relax!

Summer is winding down, and we’re looking at the last hurrah!

I’m looking forward to dealing with some UFOs (unfinished objects!) at the lake – I just pulled up the extended weather forecast and its mostly sunny and 70s!

I had to share some beautiful packaging with you! I was the lucky winner of Sandra Everston’s drawing and the other day this precious bisque (I think) doll head arrived!

She was packed carefully in deckle-edged paper bits from a French dictionary.

The box had lovely papers – stripes, dictionary, collaged – on all sides! I told Sandra the packaging was as lovely as the prize! Thank you!

Also thanks for the many kind comments about my aunt, Iris, both on-blog and off. They are so very much appreciated!

I just noticed my August calendar page, which includes quotes by Thich Nhat Hanh with some lovely illustrations featured an illustration of an iris.

I leave you with the quote for the month:

Breathing in
I dwell in the present moment.
Breathing out,
I feel it is a wonderful moment.

Wishing you many wonderful moments this weekend.

Tomatoes, Unfulfilled Promises and Gazpacho!

Yesterday Rick e-mailed me saying that a friend gave him some sweet corn, so we decided to do a garden dinner.

I had – sitting in a pretty compote I bought for fifty cents at a sale this summer – quite a few ripe tomatoes from my front-yard “farm” and it seemed a good day to make gazpacho (below).
Seeing the tomatoes reminded me of the first full summer in my house. I planted some flowers, herbs and two tomato plants in the heavy clay soil, and tended them carefully.
One day I saw some wee white flowers; then a small, hard green orb, about the size of a marble. My tomato was growing!
From marble to ping pong ball, then to softball size, the green tomato grew. The color changed, too – green to brown, brown to brilliant crimson.
One day when at the plant, I held the tomato in my hand. It detached almost on its own, and I knew it was time for me to bring the fruit inside.
It was clearly the most beautiful tomato ever grown. Worthy of a full page spread in the finest cooking magazine! I was quite certain it would make the most delicious BLT I’d ever known. Or perhaps, I would enjoy it with some fresh mozzarella. Oh, the anticipation!

I placed it carefully on the window sill, and every day would pick it up, carefully turn it over in my hand, as I observed every millimeter of its crimson skin. Then I would place it back on the sunny ledge, where I could gaze at it as I puttered at the sink.

One day when I picked up the tomato, I discovered my hand was damp. No, wet. My beloved tomato, whose skin had begun to pucker a bit, was turning to liquid.

Regretfully, and unceremoniously (unless you count the parade of fruit flies that seemed to have appeared), I slipped it into the disposal and ground it up.
I’ve thought of that moment often in the years that have followed. I still grow the tomatoes – and even more things (in pots, not that awful clay!). But now I eat the fruit from my garden (though I do keep it on the shelf a bit longer than I probably should, as I still love to look at it!). And I love it!
I realized that my first tomato really wasn’t allowed to live up to its promise – the promise that it was not only lovely, but delicious. The promise of it becoming part of a lunch or dinner that would celebrated harvest, life and doing things for oneself.

What is perfect, admired, coveted can still pass before the promised is reached.

So, I made my gazpacho with my own tomatoes and hot peppers.

The yellow peppers aren’t quite ready to harvest yet, but aren’t they pretty? And it was delicious!
Later that evening, I returned to the book I’m reading – Tina Brown’s “Diana Chronicles.”

It is surprisingly good. I truly thought that all books on this topic had been written and rewritten and there was little to add. But Brown is a solid and thoughtful writer and the book is well written and researched. She adds a historical and psychological dimension that looks deeper into all the players and their families than anything I’ve seen before.

For whatever reason, I thought of Diana as that first tomato of mine. Something plain, drab, simple and very small evolved into something bright, colorful and beautiful. Something admired. There were those who wanted to put her on a shelf, bring her out for special things. Using the food metaphor, she was expected to compliment the main dish, not be the main dish.
And, before her full promise could be reached, she was gone. As unceremoniously and violently crushed as my tomato, surrounded by a paparazzi of fruit flies.

In her case – and that of the woebegone but lovely tomato, it was less about living up to the promise than surviving the roadblocks that contribute to it.
The question: Are we living up to our promise? Do we even know what it is? That’s one I need to think about.

Meanwhile, here’s my gazpacho recipe. Like many of my recipes, the quantities are based on what you have!
“Promising” Gazpacho

In a food processor (or blender; you may need to do batches) pulse:
½ green pepper
½ yellow pepper
½ red pepper (or any combination of the above)
1 English cucumber (or regular cuke with seeds removed)

Put in a bowl, holding out about a handful of the fairly finely-chopped veggies. You’ll add these back later for texture.

Process:
1 medium onion
2-4 cloves of garlic
1-2 hot peppers (red banana, jalapeno, your other favorites)
4-6 tomatoes (depending on size and size of your processor. I used about 6 softball-sized.)
Cut them in half and squeeze juice and seeds into processor, then fruit.
1 bunch cilantro (optional)

Puree, adding back in the largest portion of veggies (Still keep out that handful). Add sea salt, pepper, about 1 T. cumin (I like a lot.) If you don’t have hot peppers above, add some hot sauce or cayenne.

Pour mixture into large bowl and add up to 2 c. of tomato juice, depending on how thin you like it. Add back in the chopped veggies. Also add juice of one lime or some red wine vinegar. Sample and adjust seasonings to match your taste.

Serve with croutons.

Today’s Write on Wednesday is a meme. And, I might say, Becca asks some fun questions. What are your answers?

1. Do you write fiction or non-fiction? Or both?

I “think” fiction; I write non-fiction.

2. Do you keep a journal or a writing notebook?

Sporadically I keep a journal. Very sporadically.

3. If you write fiction, do you know your characters’ goals, motivations, and conflicts before you start writing or is that something else you discover only after you start writing? Do you find books on plotting useful or harmful?

I’ve never read a book on plotting. Probably should – I have trouble with plots, which is why I mostly write non-fiction!

4. Are you a procrastinator or does the itch to write keep at you until you sit down and work?

How long have those stories been in my head? Too long!

5. Do you write in short bursts of creative energy, or can you sit down and write for hours at a time?

Short bursts. Unless I’m working on the blog or something really fun.

6. Are you a morning or afternoon writer?

At work I’m an all-day writer. Which explains why I don’t write a lot after!

7. Do you write with music/the noise of children/in a cafe or other public setting, or do you need complete silence to concentrate?

I work extremely well, almost require, sound. Telly, music, people in the background. Otherwise, my tinitus makes me crazy!

8. Computer or longhand? (or typewriter?)

Mostly computer (always at work) – ideas at home in longhand.

9. Do you know the ending before you type Chapter One? Or do you let the story evolve as you write?

I think I know. But I always leave myself open!

10. Does what’s selling in the market influence how and what you write?

Nope.

11. Editing/Revision - love it or hate it?

Editing is my favorite part. I love editing myself. I love editing others. I get great joy of hacking away line after line with a red flair pen! Reworking sentences! Oh, yes, I love to edit!

Craft Camp (and Vacation Drawing Winner!)

Once a year, my buddy Kate and I head north with a trunk full of art supplies, art books, magazines, and tasty sustenance and do what we call “craft camp.” Two days of fun and playing!

We headed up on Friday afternoon, where we did a late birthday celebration. Needless to say, many of my gifts from Kate were art-oriented and I couldn’t have been happier!

We opened on the beach, eating crackers jalapeno jelly (made by my pal Barb!) on cream cheese, enjoying good wine and later, Anne’s pesto (mixed with shrimp on penne!) Kate made a fabulous couscous salad with cucumbers, and I brought up gazpacho, too. We were set for the weekend!

Another great sunset finished off the evening!

The next day we hit the farmer’s market, buying tasty goodies.

I bought beans…

Mushrooms (aren’t these amazing-looking?)…

Lots of fruit!

And of course, took more than a few additional photos!

Then back to the lake to create!

Kate worked on a painting using some of the techniques from the class we took at Artiscape, with some modifications of her own. (Later she worked on a beautiful paper necklace.)

I did a journal using the same technique – I’ll wait to show you that when it’s done.

And I did some postcards. These will probably end up being backgrounds for other projects, but feel free to save these and use them for backgrounds for ATCs or tags or whatever.
This happy guy was just for fun!

I also knit up a dish cloth from a Magic Ball my friend Maryanne sent me. It was my first Magic Ball and as I stitched wildly, lovely things fell out like tiny bottles of glitter, yarn, embellishments, and sweet little ducks!

The fact was, we didn’t want to – and couldn’t stop. We didn’t even go to dinner till around 8!

The next day was more of the same. I put my yarn ball into a soup bowl and sat in the sun to knit, managing to read a bit, too!

We even saw a loon -- or maybe not, as its bill is yellow. Any guesses anyone?

And I got lots of prep done for other projects – collage art snipping, paper organizing and more!

Coming home was terribly hard – the weather at the lake was perfect. On the road we hit a rainy patch but saw the loveliest rainbow!

The Gypsy-boy was waiting!

This morning I did the drawing for my vacation souvenir package and the winner was Jill of Jill’s Junk to Jewels! Jill, send me your address and I’ll post it next week!

Goodbye, Iris.

Today I was planning to post post about my wonderful and creative weekend. That will have to wait.

Last night when I returned home, I received the sad news that my 95-year-old aunt, Iris, had died Sunday morning.

Iris was the oldest of my mom’s sisters, and the last one of her generation. After a heart attack/stroke last week, she chose to move to Hospice. However, at that time there was no reason to think that things would happen this quickly.

If you have read The Marmelade Gypsy for a long while, you might remember that back in March, when she had her birthday, I wrote a post about Iris, so some of these photos – and maybe even these memories – may be redundant.

(Iris is between my grandparents, with the dark hair, in the middle holding my aunt, Gracie.)

But I did want to pay a tribute to my “other mom.”

None of the four sisters were particularly “deprived” in their life, despite growing up during the depression and World War II. Most didn’t work outside of the home after they were married. They raised their families, did volunteer work, played bridge.

Iris did too. But she also worked as one of our city’s first female insurance sales women during an era when if women worked, they were secretaries or teachers or nurses. They didn’t go into business in the 30s and 40s.

Iris had a shrewd head for business, and she new how to sell. When she and my uncle bought a sporting goods store in northern Michigan in the 1960s, she worked the floor daily. She was part of the face of the small-town community in many ways. Not a big deal these days – lots of women work full time, raise families and participate in their communities. But that was then.

However, these are accomplishments. They are part of the fabric of her life, but only part.

She had a strong sense of family. She and her sisters had a powerful bond. It always distressed her, in many ways, that they had died so young. (Eleanor in the mid-50s, Mom and Gracie in the mid-70s.) It felt wrong to her that she was the only one left; yet she had a tough core of survival.
She simply adored her three children and I think the grandchildren even more. In the past decade or so, she was able to know and cuddle several great-grandchildren as well.

And, she loved the children of her nieces and nephews, as well. They loved her, too, as one cousin shared with me last night. Years ago, Iris spent a few days with the family and when she left, my cousin’s five year old son simply did not want to let her go. Perhaps to him, she was the fully-accredited stand-in for him own Grandma, Iris’ sister, who died long before he was born.

To me, she was a second mom – the only remaining sister for more than 30 years, the only remaining elder on mom’s side of the family.

When they lived in Lansing, we spent holidays together. One time we were having a creative package-wrapping contest -- the most uniquely wrapped gift won a prize. Iris cut open a green pepper and from the top removed the seeds. She added a pair of earrings for me, wrapped in tin foil and replaced the top, tying it with a red ribbon. I think she won that year!

She listened and cared about me as my mom would. I’d share teary things with her, and joyful ones. She loved cats and would listen to my Gypsy (and Stimpy) stories eagerly – and share one or two of her own.

When she finally met Rick a year-and-a-half ago, she adored him and gave me the feedback any girl would want to hear from her mom when she brought about a “really special boy.”

There wasn’t a phone conversation we had that she didn’t ask about Rick or his boys and reinforce how much she liked him. You want your parents to like your choices. She was my other mom.

Right now, I am trying to grapple with the idea that my cousins and I are now the “older generation.” We are the elders. I keep thinking we’re still the kids – and when we get together, we still act that way!

But the fact is, the torch has passed to the next generation. It’s sobering. It’s hard for me to imagine that we are the “old farts” with our collective mishmash of ailments, sickness, foibles, frustrations, and joys.

I know that Iris died the way she wanted to. In her sleep, without pain, and ready to leave. She had expressed this to me many months before – I truly think seeing her own husband suffer for a long while, as well as her sisters and the other men in our family, really made her committed to wanting to leave without fanfare, extended pain or complication.

She did. And right now, I envision a big party with all the sisters laughing as they once did. There is good food, and most definitely a lake.

Eleanor would share her paintings, mom would show her the newest crafty things she was working on, Gracie would play “boogie on the black keys” and Iris – sweet, sentimental Iris who cried when opened almost any birthday gift or received a sweet letter or card – would shed a tear or two between the laughs.

They are the sisters. Together again.