I’m dreaming of a White House Christmas, just like the ones I used to know

You practically need an act of Congress to be a Christmas decorating volunteer at the White House. I know. I’ve checked it out.

Volunteers are mainly florists and decorators from the DC area. Mostly local folks, a few having volunteered for some 20 years.  The most proffered suggestion on how to go about being chosen was to write your local congressman early in the year to see if you could be approved.

Karen Exiner was teasing me as we were decorating the library tree to find out how we could get invited to come to the White House and help with the decorations.  Wouldn’t that be fun? So, off I went, to the White House website and to Google to find out how to go about volunteering.

It seems this volunteering to place ornaments on trees in our nation’s house and fluff garland, yards and yards of garland,  is not an easy thing to do. Most sites with suggestions end up saying something like “you can always find something local to decorate”.

I’ve gone to the White House web site many times, for any number of reasons; political, historical, or just for fun and if you have never been there, I encourage you to take a peek. I have visited the site through several presidents and it is really very interesting with a great deal of history in between policy issues and press briefings. www.whitehouse.gov

I watched the Oprah special on the White House and Christmas and was disappointed. You see, I didn’t want to hear about policy. Anyone who knows me knows I am a political junkie, but, when it comes to the White House and Christmas I really just wanted to see the decorations and learn how the gingerbread house was made this year and how it was transported and how the trees were decorated with the big ladders and ladies in white gloves and the cascading mantles and where do they put everything that are usually out on display – you know, all the interesting things that HGTV shows in their yearly special about Christmas at the White House.  I love to see how the residing president’s dog ends up as marzipan or some such confection. I love to see how this year’s snow is concocted or what they view is of outside from the oval office.

I’m one of those snoopy ladies who drive around slowly at night so I can gaze into windows and see how others decorate their houses. Just ask Tom, who has had to drive around the block an extra time, slower, just so I can get a better look, and don’t go shaking your heads at me. You do it too. I know you do. I can’t do that with the White House, however, so I expect people like Oprah to take me inside, and I was disappointed.

HGTV is supposed to have their special on December 20. I will be there – well, not THERE there, but, here there, nestled like a plumped sugar plum upon our couch, probably with an Ethel cookie or one of the caramels we made last night in hand, eyes all aglow and spirits bright, as I get to finally see this year’s White House preparations.  For a little more information you can click on here www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/holiday-favorite-white-house-christmas-2009-returns-to-hgtv-on-sunday-december-20-at-8-pm-etpt-79235302.html.

I am hoping that this will be yet another interesting peek inside the windows on Pennsylvania Avenue – and the closest Karen and I will probably ever get to decorating the White House for Christmas.

You never know, though. Stranger things have happened. Maybe, just maybe, one of these holiday seasons, my artistic friend Karen and I will be invited over to the White House and we will have such fun. Maybe, just maybe.

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. . . and the answer is

Octopus plant was an interesting guess – way to go Jennifer and Sandy (who didn’t cheat and look it up). Three cheers for Sharon, but, no, not a squash, though these fingers may squash you. Bev called me, but no,  she couldn’t squeeze the answer out of me. Tom, well, he sweet-talked the truth out of me, but that doesn’t count as he is recovering from his brief stint in the hospital and needed a little tartness in his life.

Okay. I’m stalling and getting silly.

This peculiar looking item is called Buddha’s Fingers and is, are you ready? tada, drumroll – a lemon.

This citrus fruit originates from China, or at least that is what the online sources say, but the one I encountered was from California. It grows on a thorny tree and is mainly used for its zest! Check out the pictures at the website below for more information and to see what the insides look like. They are pretty expensive, but, if you only used them for the zest and needed a lot of lemon zest, I guess they would be worth it as you wouldn’t waste the juice.

The stock boy (politically incorrect, but he was a boy) said some lady used them for candle holders. I just shook his hand – Buddha’s, not the stock boy’s – and went on my merry way, smiling a little at the fun had and discovering something new while on a brief errand for some organic apples in the middle of a very anxious week.

www.mit.edu/~rseater/images/vorlon-lemon/vorlon-lemon.html

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Guessing game

Can you guess what this is?  

I discovered it in the produce department at Whole Foods the other day. I was examining it when a helpful fellow ventured over from stacking navel oranges to ask if he could be of assistance. We played a little guessing game until  he could no longer contain his excitement and enlightened me as to what it was. Several other employees, who should have been paying attention to their own pyramids of produce, chimed in and a lively discussion ensued over how to use this item.  I’ll give you some time to guess what it is. 

Taken off the Flicker website

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“The woods are lovely dark and deep” Frost

Dinner was late.

It wasn’t my fault.  Really. I had a busy day baking, doing errands, tending to business and when the time came to start our evening meal, the deer returned. They had been foraging earlier in the day, as you can see in the pictures, just after I wrote my last “frosty” post. Out of the dining room window I caught three running across, then another, and they stopped to graze just beyond our deck.

 It was dusk when next they  returned. Around 4:30. As    in Frost’s poem, we  are  approaching the  darkest    day of the year. The  woods  were already dark  and I  caught several does  wandering as this frigid  night fell;  first three, then  four, then five. Deer often do  something called yarding-  up when it is cold. They roam together and some may even lie down in an attempt to keep warm. We do it too. We come indoors and cocoon with warm sweaters and under blankets to ward off the cold.

Midday in the garden of good and . . .

 

Suddenly, the does moved on, slowly, but deliberately. This one took a moment to let me know my presence was felt. Click on the picture if you want a better look. I saw the bucks strolling over. I’ve yet to see them run. They walk with a measured purpose and are authoritative in their mien. It was a little strange to see two of them and they both possessed ample racks, though one was definitely more dominant and possessed at least 10 points. Their fur looked dark, as was the fur on the does, and they resembled roaming logs.   I never get over their regal majesty.

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Susan Jeffers

Our little world here on the cutoff is covered in snow and ice. The wind is blowing; I can hear a branch scraping somewhere, the sun is trying to peek through the clouds, and whispers of snow drift from time to time across the drive. We are safe and warm inside our house and I am grateful for its comfort. I know I have to go out soon and am already contemplating the joy of coming home, which led me to thinking about my old friend, Robert Frost, and his well-worn poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening – a favorite of mine ever since I first read it in my high school American Literature class. I love its simple beauty, its timely theme and the evocative pictures it paints in my mind.

I also love Susan Jeffers. Jeffers is an illustrator of children’s books, of which I spend a good deal of time sticking my nose into. I was doing some web searching for the origin of the phrase “keeping Christmas” when I came upon her website, which is where I lingered for a while, enjoying her book covers and illustrations and interpretations of so many stories that I hold dear. Jeffers has done a series of books for very young readers and then a whole lot more that are her visual interpretations of fairy tales, poems, and other topics, such as an interpretation of Chief Seattle’s letter.

I have Jeffer’s book of Frost’s poem and often display it on a desktop easel where visitors can pick it up and read it for the first time or reacquaint themselves with its timely verse. I like to use books as works of art. Cover illustrations are often so beautiful in themselves and I think entice the uninitiated into the world of story telling. Jeffer’s snowy wood scenes and wonderful dust cover are an example.

From Susan Jeffer's website, page from Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

www.susanjeffers-art.com/default.html

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A Treasure Trove

 

A special gift! Big things do come in small boxes! Picture credit: Jason Moody

 

My family invited friends and relatives to send letters and cards to me in honor of my special birthday this past weekend. Jason decorated the box with paper reminiscent of postcards and letters and then he and Jennifer wrapped it all up in the most delightful way, as you can see here in a picture Jason took, with a lovely ribbon to keep them all gathered in a most charming display that only an aging romantic such as I would love more than all the gold and riches on earth. I laughed and I cried and I know I will treasure this trove of memories forever. 

I think I’ll have a cup of tea and read them all over and over again, with a smile on my lips and a tear on my cheeks. I’m a very lucky gal!

                                                   

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Phyllis

Her name was Phyllis and she was an elementary education major. Most of the women on my dorm floor were el.ed. majors. Phyllis was an excellent student and earned the best grades. She was friendly and resourceful and serious in her studies. Her dorm room lights were usually turned off by 10 or 11 pm and she ALWAYS got up for breakfast. 

I only knew Phyllis for two years, but, she touched my life in a way that I still remember with gratitude more than forty years later. She was my Secret Santa.

Secret Santas vary from schools to offices to circles of friends, but, the basic premise is that for a prescribed amount of time your Secret Santa does special things for you when you are not looking. Names are drawn from hats or stockings or buckets and the person who draws your name is your Secret Santa, which is revealed on the last day. Freshman year of college was my first experience with having a Secret Santa and Phyllis was mine. 

I would wake too late for breakfast in the cafeteria to find glazed donuts or hard boiled eggs and some juice mysteriously waiting on my desk or I would return from a test late in the day to discover a Three Musketeers bar waiting for me to bite into. I love Three Musketeers! One morning, coming back to my room from taking a shower, I found my bed had been made up and a friendly note of encouragement was left for me. My roommate said it was from my Secret Santa. Sworn to secrecy, she wouldn’t say who.  Aiding and abetting a jolly elf doing something nice is part of the fun in the conspiracy of good deeds.

In those days, I wore penny loafers, a deep burgundy pair that walked me through several years of high school before graduating to college. They had started to come apart at the seams my freshman year and I had no extra money to buy new ones or the means with which to get them repaired. They looked pretty shoddy and I would usually wear them with slacks where their weakening condition was not as easy to see. It was the last Secret Santa morning when I awoke and opened my dorm room door to find my pair of penny loafers sitting at the threshold, nicely shined and newly sewn. They looked like a new pair of shoes. I have been forever touched and thankful for my Secret Santa, Phyllis, who had slipped them out of my room in the winter night and carefully repaired them, then polished them to a holiday shine. It was a simple act of kindness and resourcefulness that warmed my heart. I wore those shoes for a few more years and often thought of Phyllis. Simple in its execution and enormous in its impact, it has always been a gift of kindness that is often recalled in my holiday memories.

I think I should to do a secret act of kindness today. A box of cookies for the neighbor’s or a note slipped under someone’s door. Maybe just a smile holding open a door or telling the harried cashier she has a pretty pin on. Think of someone in your own life that did a Phillis-like deed and smile at a simple gift you may have received somewhere in time.  It will warm you on this cold, snowy day.

      Did I forget to say that the loafers each had a shiny new penny slipped         securely into the special spot where pennies went in penny loafers, thus giving          them their name? A hidden message for the Penny that wore them? 

                 

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Show and Tell

What can be more rewarding than sharing in the excitement of a young child experiencing something new?

My family was gathered around our table to help me celebrate a new decade. It was the first time in a long one that my sister’s children and grandchildren were all together in our house and we ate and talked and laughed and teased as we all enjoyed the satisfying meal of pastichio that my Jennifer cooked to perfection. She knows that this savory Greek meal is a favorite of mine and has become the family artisan of this delicious dish.

While we were winding down the feast inside, the big show was gearing up outside. Vincent thought he saw something move across the road and, sure enough and gosh-be-golly, the resident herd started roaming, slowly at first, and then with a passion, as several does crossed over, grazed for a while and then started running and darting and leaping in large arcs across the lot next door as the herd inside leapt from window to window, kitchen doors to dining room windows to see what they could see.

Watching the does leap into the air, their white tails flagging, their energy growing, I told the inside clan that there must be a buck around for the deer to be dancing so provocatively and ignoring our rapt attention as a little boy tapped on the windows in his excitement at such a show. Not long after, my 6 year old “grand” cried “there he is” and there he was, a proud stag, wandering across the great divide of our inside world and his outside one, and I felt pretty confident that Vincent would have something to tell at school the next day.

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Peter and Wendy

Okay, I know you have a lot on your mind with the threat of snow and where did you put the shovel and only a few weeks until Christmas, but who’s counting, and how much is it going to cost me to buy the ingredients for Granny’s sugar cookies, but, since I am basically a single minded individual, I just had to tell you about a rather intriguing blog I found. Don’t ask me how I found it. I’m great at run on sentences with little punctuation or adding dashes whenever I want to break into a new thought, but, I can assure you, I have no recollection how I found this blog. I will tell you that it is an interesting read and is mostly about a rare and used book store in Highland Park. I haven’t read all the archived posts, but, you know I will, eventually.   indianhillmediaworks.typepad.com/titles/.  

I know I just have to go to the store from whence the blogger speaks someday soon, only I’m afraid the owner will blog about me and blow my cover as a book addict and you will all know the truth about me and books. 

I have a very old copy of Peter Pan, really titled Peter and Wendy, leaning gingerly on the mantle against an old mantle clock.  We found the clock clearing out Tom’s parent’s house some year’s ago. It was painted black, but, something about it called out “rescue me”. It was eventually taken to a clock doc and cleaned up and it worked for a while, but now sits idly on the mantle, looking out our big old window and dreaming of Neverland while watching the deer and horses and such go by as it acts like a crutch to Peter’s refusal to grow up.

The book is literally falling apart. It has a smoothly worn leather cover that says it was loved and read. I found it in a used book store or antique mall on some adventure to the Land of Lost Boys – or was it Brookfield – for just a few dollars.  I love the way it looks and feels. I’ve often thought I should see about having it repaired, so, you can imagine my excitement when I happened upon the blog and discovered not only an engaging and witty writer and purveyor of fine books, but, a source for book repair.

                                                           Titles, Inc.

                                             The name of the bookshop.  

                       Sounds like an interesting spot for field trip, doesn’t it?

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Laughing all the way!

Yesterday, Kathryn and I took a little adventure to Oak Park. I was on a mission to find some special paper and she had a birthday card she wanted to give me and, well, we seldom need even that much of a reason to get together and enjoy the day – with most of it laughing all the way.

I picked her up and was presented a gaily wrapped present tied in raffia in which I found a beautiful bell, which will hang on one of our Christmas trees this year. Then, maybe bells on bob-tails will ring.

She also gave me a special card, made by her just for me and a very special day.

You will remember Kathryn, our recent trip to Wayne and our challenges trying to get into the van that had the same effect as Winnie-the-Pooh getting stuck in the honey pot. If you don’t remember, it can be found at this previous post: lifeonthecutoff.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/winnie-the-pooh-goes-to-wayne/. The interesting thing is that I really do put my hands on my hips like this. Thank you, Kathryn, for another fun time and for making my spirits bright.

A round of YMCA anyone?

“It is never too late to be what you might have been”.  George Eliot

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