Finals gear for my girl

 

My baby daughter is gearing up for her second round of law school finals. That is what I had in mind when I was gathering things to fill her Easter basket. Her Dad has always say that one can "do about anything with the right equipment." Her Easter basket contents, part of which are pictured above, are my contribution to the "right equipment."
I will be adding to her stash with additional purse sized Kleenex, refills for her good pen(s), gun range-endorsed ear plugs, gum and mints just prior to her first test.
Those-- and the fervent prayers of her Mama, I hope, will serve her well in the coming weeks...

Amy's "Pretty Perfect" Easter

 

My sweet little chicky eldest daughter, who her sister calls "the most beautiful person in the world" had an exceptionally happy Easter this year.  She said, that other than her brother and niece not being with us to celebrate, everything about the whole weekend was perfect.
That included her basked or so she said.
This year, there was a chick theme. Lots of purple: her favorite color. Her favorite Spring candy: bunny corn and peeps. Some jewelry inside the fancy fill and thrill eggs. Another of the things she loves!
I was so happy to see her so happy. She has known a good deal of adversity in her life. Some of it has been fairly recent. Still, she bounces back, each time. She is resilient. And yes, she is beautiful, inside and out.
On Sunday, she received hugs and kisses 'til we could hardly get her out the door and headed toward her Aunt and Uncle's place on the lake for Easter lunch. At the lake, there were lots more of the people she loves and people who love her to hug and kiss and spend time with. Little wonder then that she pronounced the day as perfect.
At bedtime, we discussed the day and the weekend. We decided to watch "The Passion" which is something of an Easter tradition for us. She fell asleep before it was over. I watched it to its glorious end, peeking from time to time over at my beautiful daughter sleeping beside me. And yes, it was a pretty perfect Easter.

Katie's Ducky Easter Basket

 

I think my baby daughter is just ducky. It is for that reason that I gave her Easter basket a duck theme this year. A majority of the basket's contents were for her use studying for and taking finals this semester at law school. The rest carried a duck theme. The candy and eggs were all there to remind her of how proud her Mama is of the woman she has become.
The dude there behind her in the picture above got an Easter bucket. It was a token of my appreciation for the good job he is doing. Being the beau of a first semester law school student, also know as a "1L" is tough but he is doing an admirable job to encouraging her to "keep calm and carry on."
His cute little Cracker Barrel bucket was filled with old fashioned candy and toys, including the original kind of silly putty, red egg and all.
The Hub also got a bucket, filled much the same. He does a good job encouraging me to "keep calm and carry on."
They both are keepers.
I decided that on the Hub a good while ago. On the baby daughter's beau, I decided when I saw him coming through the back gate, dressed for church, looking for the world like an Easter egg himself. Only a real man can pull that look off and he did. And splendidly so!
The dude loves to fish and hunt and cook wild game. But he cleans up nicely. I am going as far as to say that I think he is just ducky, too!

when the going gets tough, the tough sudoku

 

My baby daughter is at least a fourth generation puzzle enthusiast. My maternal grandmother worked the jumble in the newspaper every day. My own mother and I have been known to race each other to the driveway, even post op, to get the paper so as to have first dibs on the crossword puzzle.

this girl

 

This is my precious eldest daughter who is doing as well right now as she has in a very, very long time. I am thankful...more thankful even than I know how to express about it.
So I will just say, that the smile on her face brings tears to my eyes and joy to my heart!

needing new wellies

 

I have a new pair of garden gloves and a got a pair for my grandbaby, too. I want to make memories working in the garden with her the same way my own paternal grandma made them with me. But first, I am going to need a new pair of wellies. Wellies might be a name brand, but it is the name folks seem to be calling all manner of garden boots of late. Much the way any type of cola or soda is called a "Coke" in these parts, even if they are not a product of the Coca Cola Corp.
I saw a pair of plaid ones today. A few Christmases ago, baby daughter got me a pair of leopard print ones that seems to have disappeared.

working man and his dogs

 

The Hub spent all day Saturday in the yard. He AND his dogs. He was happy and so were they. And so was I! Everybody was out from under foot and I got a ton of stuff done inside. He got a ton of stuff outside. We were tired but happy when we went to bed on Easter Eve. It was wonderful for all concerned.
I hope we have a similar schedule this Saturday.

one a penny, two a penny...

 

I always loved nursery rhymes so I read them often to my children. When they would ask a question about what something meant or was, we would look it up. In those days, there was no internet search engines. There was no internet. We used the world book encyclopedia or the big dictionary.
And so it was that they became enamoured of hot cross buns.
I've used all manner of recipes over the years.  Some recipes have been a hit, some have not.
This year, I found a recipe calling for currants. Since Peter Rabbit's mother went to the market to buy currant buns I thought to combine several Easter themes and mde Hot Cross Buns with currants. I also put almonds in them rather than pecans, as I have in the past.
A friend and I had the last two as a pre-dinner snack last night. She seemed to like them a lot. But I think she prefers the ones I came with yellow raisins soaked in the juice of an orange.

some things i really like

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. (i really want my daughter to dress her flower girls in her someday wedding like that!)
cleaning with a shop vac (a Christmas clean up discovery many years ago.
owl clips
egg and dart.

leopard, tortoise shell, mother of pearl.
my smart phone.
hearing children laugh.
French onion dip and French onion soup.
roses and hydrangeas.
cheese straws
rosemary, lavender and mint.
popcorn
owl clips
I have more. Many more. I could add them here.
And I probably will.

scents

Two of my favorite scents, no longer available.

 

If I ever get particularly attached to an item, you can be sure, it will be discontinued. I do not know why this is. But it is true. From the Teaberry shade of lipstick that I picked out because it bore the name of my favorite chewing gum.
To more recently, the Scentsy lots of lavender, it has happened over and over.

hope farm in good hands

 

The beautiful Southern Belle pictured above received us at Hope Farm on our last day in Natchez for the Spring Pilgrimage 2013. I am Ethel Green Banta, she introduced herself. "And this is my home."
She explained to us, there on her porch, that a friend of hers contacted her about purchasing Hope Farm lock, stock and barrel. Hope Farm is beautiful, historical and very closely connected to the pilgrimage, it being the former home of the woman who started it all.
The genteel proprietess of Hope Farm occupies its newer portion.  She brought just two things to Hope Farm when she moved in, twin Adam gold-leaf mirrors dating back to around 1750, according to an article in a special section of the Natchez Democrat and Mrs. Green's friend Gail, who received us into the dining room where the mirrors are hung.
 She also allowed us to inspect up close the Dorothy Doughty porcelain birds on the dining room table. What she did not do was fit the saw tooth crystal bowl to its lid not tap it with a silver spoon to display its beautiful tone. "Ethel says I should but I wouldn't risk it," she told us to explain her deference to the fine things at Hope Farm.
The older portion of Hope Farm is known to have been standing in 1775. It's historic furnishings are museum worthy as are its lore.


Guides in that section of the house were kind enough to share many of them with us.


 

lunch fit for a queen

 

I had not eaten at the Carriage House in Natchez for years. The food, though, was every bit as good as I remembered.
When we started discussing the things we absolutely wanted to do in Natchez, lunch at the Carriage House was on my list.
It was, as it always has been, a fabulous place!

the birthday girl

 

I took the picture above from an upstairs balcony at Monmouth Plantation.It's subject is my pretty middle sister whose half centennial birthday we have been celebrating for weeks now. We began our celebration when we presented her with the detailed itinerary the baby sister worked on for months.
To say the baby sister agonized our each and every part of the trip: each tour, each meal, each activity and event might be an understatement.
She wanted so much for everything to be just perfect for our middle sister's sake that some things took three or four days and multiple phone calls to decide upon.
I submit to you that it was almost perfect (the imperfect parts I am going to remain silent on at this point. Suffice to say they were few and far between!)

decisions, decisions

There is a lot more to see and do in Natchez. Mississippi than one might think, given its size. The historical import and preservation efforts have made it so. The baby sister and I decide to leave some of the choices to the birthday girl, in all fairness since the trip was a surprise gift from us to her.
One of our first stops after breakfast at the Eola on our first day was to the gorgeous new visitor's center to pick up tickets and make choices.
We looked at maps and brochures and watched some video clips and made hard decisions about what we could and could not fit in our time in Natchez... a nice problem to have

rosedown dress

 

One of the things I liked most at Rosedown was the floor in the foyer. It has a painted floor cloth that works out beautifully along side the gorgeous scenic wallcovering.
The last day of our sister trip, we spent a goodly amount of time at a darling children's shop in Natchez. We walked away with Easter outfits for some children and portrait outfits for others.
My grandbaby asked me to bring her toys. The Hub and I had gone on a trip some weeks earlier and brought back some new spring things for her. She liked them very much, she said, "but next time, could you bring me toys?"
I complied with her request. Mostly.
I grabbed a pretty nightgown, in addition to the classic toys I got for her.
There was a dress, in her size, that reminded me of the floor cloth at Rosedown. I picked it up. I put it back. I picked it up again. I asked my sisters whether they thought I ought to get it.
"She said she wanted toys," the baby sister said to me.
I put it back and left it.
But then the middle sister saved the day. She said she was getting that dress to give to my grandbaby for her birthday.
The Sunday after our return, the middle sister gifted my grandbaby with the dress,  rathering than saving it until her birthday in July.
"I'll buy you toys on your birthday," is what I heard my sister whisper in my grandbaby's ear as she held the dress up to her for size.
Love the dress.
Love the grandbaby.
Love the sister.

our room at monmouth

 

Our room at Monmouth was a perfect place to spend a long weekend with one's sister on Spring break week during the Pilgrimage in Natchez. It was like having a cottage of our own in the woods, surrounded by blooming flowers and singing birds.
It's suite of rooms comfortable and lovely.
The baby sister did a job job with its selection.

are you sirius?

My sisters love true crime novels. They read them voraciously. They also like watching what used to be "Court TV" and follow the featured trials constantly.
Since I work in the legal profession, that is something like a busman's holiday for me. I am generally not all that interested but when one is an occupant of a vehicle traveling many miles in a single evening to reach a single destination, one does what one must to make for a pleasant trip.
Now I will own that the commentators are hilarious at times. Some of them are, anyway. My sisters' comments are likewise hysterical, especially as the night wears on.
There are worse ways to spend an evening than with sirius radio and one's sisters.
In Paris, Texas we stopped to get advil and the baby sister found old school Borden French onion dip. Add that to the things that make for a fun road trip. That and some lays potato chips staved our hunger all the way to one of the best mexican restaurants on the planet. We made it just before closing time and the staff was most gracious about our late arrival and did not make us feel rushed in the least.
We were well over half way and sated by the time we left. The rest of the drive was altogether pleasant. By our early morning arrival at our destination I had actually grown interested in the trial we'd listened to for so many hours and the expert for the defense whose testimony the legal community was picking apart.
Good thing, that, because we listened to the self same expert on cross examination all the way home. By then, I was such a tired, but happy camper, I didn't mind a bit!

making garden

 

The proprietor of the plant nursery on the corner near my office is reworking his greenhouse. I expect shipments will begin arriving any day. I can hardly wait.
I can taste fresh tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, even now. I smell parsley, rosemary and thyme... and lavender in my mind. I am ready to make garden.
My grandbaby is excited at the prospect, too. I have a tiny pair of garden gloves for her but still need to get her a new pair of wellies.
Some of my happiest childhood memories were made in my grandmother's garden. She actually had two- a gorgeous flower garden near the house with sandstone borders on two sides and lilac trees in the corner.
Down the hill and beyond the garage, there was a huge vegetable garden. Always. It was the source of the contents jars stored in the cellar, rows and rows of them. Pickles and beets, tomatoes for soups and stews. They dug potatoes and onions and stored them under the house and put up corn.
Grandma saved seed in baby food jars. A cabinet, painted a shade of aqua we call Grandma blue held labeled jars of seed awaiting their planting.
My papaw died in February. Having just lost my Dad, their only child, two years before, my sisters and I reckoned Grandma would be too devastated and sad to make garden that year. We didn't think of it being therapeutic.
Grandma was raised on a farm. She often said of her mother, our great-grandma Katie, that she "did whatever needed done in the house as fast as she could to get out in the yard and the garden."
Grandma Katie grafted trees and trimmed her shrubbery into beautiful topiaries. She also kept an amazing vegetable garden.
The idea that my gardener Grandma, the daughter of a gardener Grandma, would not make garden one Spring was a completely foriegn concept.
Finally, though, she relented. Or so we thought.
She was quiet on the matter for a bit. Then she implores of my brother-in-law, "just one row, for peas."
He fires up the tiller and fixes a place at the edge of her flower garden to plant peas.
Then she needed just a spot for onions. and a tomato plant, or two. He obliged. and one little row or half row at a time, he broke up the soil for her planting. By the time he/she was done, Grandma had a garden as big and fine as she wanted.
She'd bested us and we didn't even see it coming. But then, she always did.

Savoring the moments and experiences

When we began to discuss our trip for this year, one theme kept coming up... pace. The pace we kept in Italy was grueling. It was necessary to fit in all we were able to see and do but it was grueling. The middle sister did a masterful job at working out all the details. She prewarned us that this would not be a trip for sissies. At some point, she began to call our Italian adventure the "never let up" tour. She meant it.
The day we went to the colosseum and the forum was Palm Sunday. On such days, a taxi will only transport to within a certain distance from a church. In Rome there is a church on every corner. The trek meet our tour group was long and arduous. We toured every level of the colosseum. We walked Palantine Hill, through the forum, the ancient ruins, the victory way, the area where the Roman baths are being excavated.
As we are trekking back to catch a cab to our hotel, middle sister says "I really want to see the 'she-wolf" at the Capitoline museum. I remember looking up that vast stairway up to those glorious buildings and wanting to cry.
In hindsight, I am thankful we did. Not only did we see the she wolf but also Constantine's hand and foot and other Roman antiquities. We also discovered there a exhibition of documents and other treasures from the Vatican archives never before displayed. It was fairly amazing. But also seriously painful. I was walking on the sides of my feet.
I grabbed a chair near a Roman chariot and gave my aching feet a rest between exhibition rooms.
Finally, I told the sisters,"if you are looking for me, you will find me here. I am not moving."
I still intend to order the guide book so I can read about that I missed. We were so late in the day getting through that the gift shop closed before we made it there. Not only did we not get to purchase a guide book but we also missed the chance to purchase some really cool gladiator toy sets for our little boys.
This year, we determined to take a slower pace. Much slower.
We agreed that this time the only thing quick will be the pace we drove to get to our destination and the baby sister's wit.
We determined:
we are going to walk slowly
talk slowly
eat slowly.
This time it was all about savoring the moments and the experiences. We increased and then decreased the itinerary several times so as to accomodate a slower pace.
The good news about that is that the places and things shaved off will make for future trips. I am going to call that a win/win for the sisters.

an annual affair

My travel companions/sisters said they would pick me up at 4 p.m. Sharp.
"Be ready," came the instruction. "Don't make us wait for you."
I was. They didn't have to wait. We all three were more than a little excited to be on our way for the second annual Sisters Trip.
Last year we went to Italy, a trip I blogged about extensively. We had so much fun that two of us got together and decided it needs to be a yearly ritual.
Of all the wonders of our Italian adventure, the sister time was the best. The three of us had not spent time sans children and spouses and others, save and except black friday shopping. We talked late into the night about many, many things...even knowing we had early morning tours.
The recollection of all that fun plus the fact that one of us was about to celebrate a milestone birthday led the the other two of us to plan a fabulous long weekend get away.
The baby sister gets the credit for most of the planning.
The story goes that it took three days and multiple phone calls for her to settle on accomodations. By the time she was done she had bonded with the staffs some locales and at least one chef.
A meticulous guidebook , complete with itineraries and quotations, was on the ready.
It was my job to read from it as we drove.
The birthday girl, did not know our destination for sure until the book was presented to her soon after we had my gear loaded into the back of her car. She entered the travel data onto her GPS and we were off.
Much adventure and the open road were before us. That it had been 12 months since our last trip meant we were more than ready for both!

the rosedown foyer

 

The foyer an amazing place.
From there one can see into several of the rooms surrounding it and up the beautiful staircase. The Zuber wallcover is fabulous as is the handpainted floorcloth.
 

three splendid meals

 

There are many fabulous places to eat in Natchez, Mississippi. On our first day there, we ate at three of the best. The sisters let me choose our breakfast locale on the first morning of our trip. I chose to eat at the Eola. I woke up that morning thinking about their cheese grits. Theirs are second only to those made by my mother-in-law for special events, back in the day. She used lots of garlic in her version and served them from a silver chafing dish. The grits at the Eola were just as I remembered. I washed them down with Community Coffee and started my day as happy as a clam.
Baby Sister had read rave reviews about Uptown Grocery on Urban spoon or some like blog and we opted to have lunch there.
It more than lived up to its hype. We ate on the lite side as we had reservations, made some months ago, for the restaurant at Monmouth where we stayed.
The evening meal, in the restaurant now situated in the parlor, featured a five course meal. We skipped pre-dinner appetizers though not the mint juleps made by Roosevelt, who has been serving them up in General Quitman's study for so many years that he is now fairly famous for them. The mint for the juleps is reported to be grown there on the grounds.
 

saving my lunch money

 

I found this tee shirt in one of the gift shops. We are half way there, the sisters and I, for checking off the destinations featured thereon.
I've been to Paris but I would love to go back. London is still on my bucket list.Guess I'd better keep saving my lunch money...

flat iron no more

 

The last morning of our Sisters Trip 2013 I did not go to breakfast with my sisters. I opted for some fruit we'd picked up and stayed behind to work on my hair. I had forgotten what the humidity in Louisiana and Mississippi do to my fine, kind hair. I knew there'd be more than a few pictures taken on this, our last day and I wanted to look presentable so as not to shame my siblings.
I asked the middle sister to leave her flat iron plugged up for me.
I was determined to conquer the flat iron or my hair or both.The girl that does my hair makes it look so easy. My sisters, my daughter, my nieces, all make it look easy. For me, it is not easy.
Sitting at the vanity table of our room, without even a cup of coffee to calm and comfort me, I took on both my hair and that flat iron. And I lost. miserably.
I would have opted for old school hot rollers but they were all packed somewhere. Some of the luggage had already been stowed in the car.
Right then and right there, sitting at that vanity table, I had a ephiphany.
It went something like this:
I said to myself, "Self, you do not have the hair nor the patience to use a flat iron. The end. Stop trying."
So, there you have it! No more burn marks on my forehead. No more singed bangs. No more mornings spent fighting with the confounded contraption. No more.
 

hands to work, hearts to God

 

I love having my nails done. The sweetheart who has done them for more than a dozen years now (with only a few breaks in the action) has done my nails through thick and thin. She has offered advice and more than a little sympathy over time. So much so, that I call her my "nail doctor." I have guarded my appointments with her as if they were truly medical. I am ashamed to say, I have, at times, given more deference to my nail appointments than anything medical or dental.
Truth be told, nail appointments are way more fun than having my teeth cleaned or any thing related to a medical check up. My "nail doctor" makes sure it's so.
This is why, I am sad to say, I have given up my nail appointment. At least for a season. My schedule has gotten so hectic of late that I can't make my appointments. Inevitably, on the days I am scheduled to have my nails done, some matter I am attending runs extra late. It never fails.
The nail doctor has been sweet about it but she has a young son who needs her attention in the hours after school. Basically,