My mother gave me music

And she may not even realize it.

I have vivid memories from my childhood of my mother playing Scheherazade Op. 35.

She, my little brother and I would dance like fiends—she’d told us the story behind the music, so we knew the movements were stories. I especially loved the first movement (The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship) but would dance to all of it.



Being so little, I didn’t know the names of any of the instruments; I remember asking my mother what made that smooth sound, the one that went like so (and I moved my hands back and forth horizontally). I’d never seen a violin, so I didn’t know about bows or strings or anything else. I just knew the sound was smooth.

I didn’t care for the clarinet, but loved, loved, loved the flute—so much so that when I was a little older and could join band, I chose the flute. I didn’t yet know about the oboe and wouldn’t for a few years yet, but I never regretted playing the flute.

Later on, the fact that I knew how to play the flute saved me from having to march with cymbals when my Army band marched in parades—that’s the normal fate of double reed players and I’m here to tell you that cymbals are heavy, boring and hard on the hands. I played piccolo instead, and that was an absolute blast.

Anyway—I don’t know that I would have been so insistent on playing flute without that early exposure to music. Years later, I did much the same thing for my kids and I’ve always wondered if they remember hearing Scheherazade and if it’s as good a memory for them as it is for me.

April's cat

Here's the cat for April--love how she's turning her head and how her fur looks against the steps.

Of cats and calendars

Years ago, my mother gave me a cat calendar for Christmas that was amazing. The pictures were of feral cats taken in Greece and I was entranced by the light and the composition of each month’s picture. To be honest, I’m not even sure when this started although it was before Kent and I started dating—I know this because I framed some of the photos from that first calendar and hung them in the apartment I lived in then.

I told her then that she could just give me the same thing everything for Christmas and I would be very happy. It’s hard to find cat calendars that aren’t stupidly cheesey or overly cutesy but this one was fantastic. And over the years, she’s done exactly that. I think there was one year where she couldn’t find a version, but mostly I’ve been able to hang a calendar of amazing feral cats in Greece on my wall every year.

This year she told me I wouldn’t be getting one, and I’ll admit I was bummed. But what I didn’t know is that while she was in Greece, she had been taking photos of the feral cats there. And she created a calendar for me with those photos, along with some from her sister (the aunt for whom I’m named), and a friend who traveled with my folks.

I love this calendar, not only because of the photos but because of what my mom did. She told me she thought of me the whole time she was there as she was taking those photos. I think this ranks right up there with the most thoughtful and loving gift my mom’s ever given me.

A quick retrospective

I’ve been scanning old photos from my family – I do mean old. Some are of great-great grandparents and whatever was written on the backs of them has faded with age.

I didn’t realize that I had high school senior pictures of my mother and my grandmother. I have one of me too, although mine wasn’t in black and white. But Picasa makes it very easy to alter photographs and so I’ve converted mine to black and white just for fun. Looking at my grandmother's picture, I see a very strong resemblance with my sister Amy. I'd never really noticed that before.

Mana (my grandmother)

My mother

And me

Just for you, Alison

The quilt-making gene, both in terms of desire and ability, passed me by. My mother makes amazing artisan quilts of which I own two and they are beautiful works of art that are also usable. (I think it was William Morris who said keep nothing in your house you don't believe to be both beautiful and usable, or words to that effect. Mom's quilts are both.)

I also have the attention span of a gnat and need the instant, or at least a lot faster, gratification of garment sewing. Making quilts is time-consuming and you don't see what you've got til you are nearly through. I like that when I sew in a sleeve, it looks like a sleeve right away. I don't want to wait weeks to get that gratification.

However Alison has a new doll, one she likes a great deal. Her doll needs a jacket (which is next up in the sewing queue) and a quilt for sleeping. So here's the finished doll quilt:

I'm especially pleased because the two lighter pink materials are scraps left over from a shirt and a dress I made for her already. If those things still fit, she might notice the resemblance herself; she's pretty astute that way. The border and the darker pink in the middle of the quilt are left overs from material my mother got me (I finished a bag she'd started for me). The back of the quilt is a new piece of material, and I'm also using some of it to line her doll's jacket.

No, I still don't like making quilts. But I was really happy to make this one for Alison.

Things my mother told me

And I’m coming round to her way of thinking on some of them.

1. Wearing black by your face ages you. I moved away from head-to-toe black years ago (so emo) although I haven’t removed it entirely from my wardrobe. I seldom wear solid black by my face, and just two weeks ago, I retired a solid black turtleneck because of the color and also because of point two.
2. Turtlenecks make your face look fat and/or older (apologies, Mom, I forget your exact wording on this one). Yeah I am starting to see exactly where my jaw will be like my mother’s jaw, which in turn she got from my grandfather. None of us have the fat, wiggly jowls you sometimes see, but we do have JAWS and turtlenecks just hit at an unfortunate spot. I still wear them but can see the day approaching when I won’t.
3. You’ll need less sleep as you get older (or maybe it’s that you’ll sleep less). I’m waiting on this one. I still need and generally get between eight and nine hours of sleep a night and deeply envy those who do well on less.
4. The day after drinking a bit much get tougher as you get older. Amen and isn't that the sad, sad truth? And to add insult to injury, it takes far less alcohol to get the nasty day after effect.
5. Your skin will get really dry. While I’m no longer producing enough oil to solve the world's oil shortage as I once did, I’m nowhere near the dry skin category. Not even in winter.
6. Your knees will get fat. Well they aren't fat, but they are no longer as lovely as they once were. Plus I think my butt wants to meet the backs of my knees. Damn that gravity anyway.
7. Your waist will thicken. I am pretty sure this has started for me. No matter what kind of workout I do, I’m not sure I can get rid of all of it. It’s not really a weight issue, it’s more of a redistribution of what’s there and I find it very annoying.
8. More light for reading. Boy do I need it. I needed more light way before I needed reading glasses.
9. Spider veins. She never really said anything other than yeah, you've got them. To which I say thanks . . .

What things did your mother say that only now you are begining to suspect are true?

Happy Mother's Day

Two quick memories in honor of Mother’s Day.

First, I was probably five years old. We lived in Nashville and Mom was a single parent with two small children. My brother and I had been finger painting with her, and I remember she painted apple trees. I was so impressed because her trees really looked like apple trees.

Second, I was a year or so older and I’d burned my finger on the iron early one school morning. I needed to get off to school, and she promised me something special when I got home. I was expecting a toy or a cookie or something but instead she’d made me a “medal” out of colorful construction paper that proclaimed me a member of the Royal Order of the Iron. I loved that thing, and in fact I had it well into adulthood—until my house was broken into and my jewelry box, where I stored it, was stolen. I was as upset about losing that as I was about a lot of the jewelry I lost.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

Odds and ends from my trip

While on the plane, I watched Survivor over someone's shoulder. I don't get the appeal.

I'm glad to leave the high desert even though it's beautiful, mostly because my nose is cracking and bleeding.

I'm also glad I had charge left on my Zune so I could listen to music.

While at the Oregon Youth Challenge program, I saw this slogan:

People may not believe what you say. They will always believe what you do.

So I’m sitting on the plane next to a man who was happy to tell me about his wife and four children, ages 22, 20, 18. and 16 and how his children tell him (and his wife) that they want marriages or relationships like their parents. And yet he’s gone two weeks at a time with a few days in between the trips. Is that really what his children want?

What do they want to emulate?

I just eavesdropped/watched some episode of Survivor (guy in the next row across the aisle has it on his iPad), and in this episode family members were brought in. It was clear to me who really truly had a close relationship with the visiting person—the actions were so loud that even though I couldn’t hear the audio track, I didn’t need it.

Some of the contestants clearly had very strong family bonds with those who visited them. You can fake hugs but unless you are an Oscar caliber actor, I don’t think you can successfully fake the emotion and strong family bonds. I want that with my family.

I think I have it with my younger son and his family although I want more, I want them to know in their hearts of hearts how much I love them and how committed I am to them. I have work ahead of me with my older son, and so does he. That kind of relationship is a two-way street and I’m committed to doing my part.

My parents showed me this kind of commitment this weekend. My mother made a point of telling me how proud she is of me—my favorite line was when she told me I looked too small to be so important in what I do. But her words, while fantastic, didn’t say as much as her actions (and my dad’s actions) did. They drove six HOURS to see me for a few hours and have dinner with me. While I might want to argue with what my mother said, her actions practically hollered at me. And I am humbled and thankful for that message.

53 East Manning Street

My mother lived in Providence as a little girl, and she gave me the address. We drove there today to check it out and wow, it's a cool neighborhood full of historic houses in great shape. It looks as though the house was like the neighbors and was an upstairs/downstairs duplex, but it's been combined into one single family home. So there's a 51 East Manning Street but no 53 East Manning Street.

We took a short video plus a couple of pictures.

Edited to add that after conferring with my uncle, my mother says their address was indeed 51 East Manning Street. What a very cool neighborhood.

These links are for you, Mom

The first article is about how to stop buying clothes you don't wear. And the second article lists the staples for every woman's wardrobe.

They are quick reads, I promise.

Edited to add that the author of the second article has published an updated list

PS If you aren't my mother, don't think I'm bossing her around. Her email crashed and this is the only way I can get her the articles--she was interested in them, I swear!

Happy birthday, Mom!

I love this picture of my mother, taken by Kent this summer in Colorado. The colors are so vivid and she looks so relaxed and happy sitting on the hay. So here's hoping today echoes some of that for you, Mom.

I was going to write about

The view from the deck of the house we stayed in. And I was going to brag (again) about my mother's mad sewing skills and show you the crayon bags she made (photo by Kent).



Then I was going to write about how excited I am because I'm getting a compact sewing cabinet which will make doing my projects a LOT more convenient.








Instead I'm going to complain about a leaky kitchen faucet that's created a mess under the sink. After the no-water issue earlier this week, I ought to be grateful to have water. I would just prefer it not be standing in my cabinet, forcing me to empty everything out and then mop up all that water.

Edited to add: And NOW I'm going to really complain about the mold growing in our closet. We have a leak and it's from the sidewalk above the closet so the condo association is supposed to repair it. I really hope the condo association doesn't forget this needs to be fixed ASAP. No wonder I can't breathe.

I cried

I picked out the materials and pattern for this quilt a long time ago. My mother had offered to make me a quilt back when she first started quilting and I chose this pattern and these materials. Well it's always difficult to make something you don't actually like, and my mother and I have very different taste. So long story short, this quilt didn't get made. She started it and would pick it up from time to time, but honestly her heart wasn't in it.

I don't entirely know what changed her mind, but she brought it here to Estes Park at our family reunion and put it on our bed. Here's a close up of the materials:



I still love it and in fact I slept with it on our bed last night. Now I'm looking forward (sort of) to colder weather in Boston because this beautiful quilt will be on our bed.

Thank you, Mom.

Neglected, overlooked or forgotten recipes

I'm sure I'm not the only one to do this. I'll find a recipe and go nuts over it for a few weeks, maybe a few months and then it will just fall out of rotation. Then I forget about it. Well I went through my recipe box the other day (quick aside, do people even use recipe boxes any more?) looking for something to make since I was bored by the usual suspects. I got a nice little trip down memory lane and rediscovered a couple of favorites.

For example, I have a recipe from my mother that's a chicken, rice and swiss cheese casserole. It's really fast to make since I tend to steam a big batch of rice every week or so and also tend to keep baked chicken on hand. All that's left then is shred the cheese, saute an onion and mushrooms, add a few herbs and a dash of sherry and bake it.

Another yummy favorite also from my mother, and one that works even for people who aren't curry fans is a curry-glazed chicken dish that uses a mild curry powder with honey and Dijon mustard. It's so tasty and quick to make.

I also found yet another recipe from her that's sort of a vegetable quiche, but made with Bisquick. Did you know Bisquick now has a low fat version? I altered that recipe quite a bit by substituting diced cooked chicken for the broccoli and also adding in sauted mushrooms and onions. It's like a chicken pot pie and it turned out really well.

Finally for those of you with Joy of Cooking on your bookshelves, I made the Almond Thumbprint Cookies (in my version, it's on page 836) and did a nutritional analysis of it on Calorie Count. The recipe makes 36 cookies and each cookie is just 59 calories. Now that's a guilt-free treat in my book.