Always October

    Most people know by now that I am a huge fan of the autumn season.  If it were up to me, it would “always (be) October”.   Every month would have cool mornings, warm afternoons, and a hint of  a chill in the evening air.  A harvest moon would glow every evening in the sky and the sun would peak over the horizon in the first light of the day.

    Generally people have a specific month that they favor because of a birthday, holiday or special occasion which has meaning for them.  For me, October is the quintessential month with everything that I would ask a month to provide.   October is the harbinger of many holidays to come, complete with decorations, themes, veterans, thanks and spirituality. 

    There are the gorgeous colors of the season and October highlights them in her flora and fauna.  The pumpkins and gourds, the chrysanthemums, the changing leaves (yes, they do change color in Texas!), the smell of cranberry bread and cinnamon rolls in the bakeries, and the seasonal-flavored coffees.

    Waking up in the morning, the sun isn’t shining through the skylights or windows, so I feel more rested.  The drawback of October’s shorter sunlight hours is that sometimes I feel that I haven’t finished everything I planned.  When it is twilight outside and it’s only 7pm, I feel that I want to curl up in my favorite chair, and watch my favorite television show, read a book, or have a glass of wine.

    October tends to energize me in that I want to walk and exercise outside because the temperature is more comfortable than in other months.  September tends to carry the summer temperatures and November is a hodge podge of the winter weather to come.

    October skies are filled with clouds in all shapes and sizes and I enjoy searching the heavens for something that can be recognized before the wispy vapors disappear.   Usually in summer, here in Texas, there aren’t any clouds in the sky many days, so it is hot and days seem longer.  This morning, for example, I awakened to a lavender sky of all hues of purple, like a striated skein of lavender yarns.

    Many organizations, churches, schools and various groups have their fall craft shows, pumpkin patches, holiday marketplaces, and autumn celebrations in the month of October.  Each week you have your choice of numerous venues to attend, or just visit the local farmer’s market.  And who can forget Octoberfest?

    The holidays – Thanksgiving and Christmas are approaching, but not quite here, so the anticipation still remains.  Halloween is just a breath away.  That means I still have time to pick out my Christmas photo card, mail overseas packages, and plan a holiday party.

    Time and time again, when October 1^st arrives, I think of all the wonderful events ahead in the month, start to fill up my calendar  - meeting with friends, lunches, and gatherings, and know that this month will be one to cherish again and again.

Falling into Autumn

    The signs are everywhere – no bright sunshine waking me up in the early morning; the evenings get darker faster; clouds are everywhere, fewer cloudless skies like in the ferocious heat of summer; schools are back in session and we have to obey the slower traffic signs again.  Foliage is beginning to shed its bright summer dresses and wrapping itself in glorious, albeit warmer tones. 

    But the most indicative signs of autumn – the stores have final summer clearance sales, Hallowe’en items for sale, Thanksgiving napkins and paper plates and yes, Christmas trees, Christmas decorations and Christmas lights.  Everywhere you shop there is the push for the next few holidays.  A typical shopping sight in autumn, everywhere I go. 

    Autumn is kind to share her special days with other events – antique fairs, farmer’s market days, federal holidays, the costume holiday and “almost” Thanksgiving.  What a kind season she is! The autumnal equinox means “equal night”, where daylight hours equal night time hours. 

    It’s almost autumn, and already folks are changing their front porch arrangements from summer to autumn.  Gone are the red/white/blue wreaths for Memorial Day and the 4^th of July holidays.  Glorious wreaths and various colored pumpkins with autumnal colors are replacing these decorations.  Brilliant oranges, mellow yellows, deep eggplant, pale greens, and vibrant reds, just to name a few are the highlights on wreaths, garlands, pumpkins, gourds, and baskets.  And inside, my decor is changing as well.  

                    (This is one of my traditional pumpkins used for the dining room decor every year).

    I’ve started to decorate our front porch which I love to do.  The little wagon that held the summer duck now holds various colored gourds and is encircled with a garland of leaves (artificial, of course). 

                  

    Sundays seem autumnal with my hubby and I watching our favorite football team, exchanging barbs with a family member in another state (cheering for another team!) over who will win the game, snacking and cheering whenever our team is in the lead.

    When the temperature outside is still in the low 90s here in south central Texas,  it’s often hard to think about the glorious autumn weather in other parts of the country.  But once the weather fronts move across the country, and we do experience some cooler days, I know that the triple holidays are right around the corner.

     I like the sound of “ Autumn”  – it conjures a softer, warmer sound than FALL.  I've fallen a few times and had a experienced sprained ankles.  Autumn flows, like a creek through a forest of maples and pines that are dressed in hues of reds and oranges and yellows and pastel greens.  The rippling water flows over stones that have been there for hundreds of years.    

    What makes you think of fall?  Changing the wreath on your front door?  Your children or grandchildren returning to school or college?  The clothes in the brick and mortar stores that are selling heavy winter coats and boots?  The variety of catalogs you receive in the mail heralding the upcoming holidays?

                    (This is one of my favorite autumnal decorations from my sister Kathy in PA).

    Time and time again when 1 September rolls around, my thoughts and decorations will begin to encompass my daily routine.  Autumn doesn’t begin on 23 September at our house.  Although I enjoy other activities during the day, the best part of the late afternoon begins when the garland on the fireplace mantel and the two wreaths on the French doors spontaneously begin to twinkle with the most comforting, yet glorious autumnal glows.  

A Toast to Toasters!

    When we were building our house, we met often with the architect who modified the plans for our house.  We were happy with most of the plans, except for the kitchen.  For some unknown reason, the architect kept erasing the lines on my kitchen cabinets and making the cabinets extend to the ceiling.  I did not want that.  I wanted a space between the top of my cabinets and the ceiling for “something”.  I didn’t know what, but something.  A collection of plants?  A collection of – what?  I didn’t know then, but I got what I wanted.

    What could I display on top of the cabinets?  It didn’t take long until I was attracted to the old enamel or porcelain ware that was white trimmed in red.  I found many pieces at flea markets, garage sales or antique shops.  Of course, the garage sales and flea markets had the most pieces at the lowest prices.  And the dirtiest! 

    I found large bowls, platters, a bucket, coffee pot, plates, ladle, to name a few.  It was very easy to clean these pieces.  I just used a little warm water, a very mild cleaning product, a soft cloth and some TLC.  And voila!  The dirt and grime and rust just melted away to reveal a beautiful piece of kitchenware from decades ago.  The red-trimmed ware went well with the color scheme of my kitchen since I had a lot of red in it.  But after a while, I just needed “something” else.

    One day while antiquing, I came across an old toaster and I said, “That’s it.”  And so began my collection of old toasters.  Toasters were originally invented in Scotland in 1893 and have continued to be improved over the years.  The toaster is one of the most common household appliances.  Toasters have been refined over the years and are now included as one of the most elite food processors on most kitchen counters.  Toasters may be taken for granted, but we probably use them daily.  

    I found toasters at garage sales for $.50; at flea markets (dirty, of course) for $1.00; at the Thrift Shop on the base for $2.00.  At antique stores, it was a bit different.  Those items were on consignment from a vendor, so the price was often higher, yet not exorbitant. 

    All of the toasters have the original cords and most do work, although I doubt I’d try to make toast in them today.  None of the toasters are alike.  Each one is different and most have been identified by either the logo on the side, or by the brand name on the bottom of the toaster.  Most are American, but some are British made.

                                                   (This is a 1942 Sunbeam Model T-9)

    My favorite is the one slice toaster that “pops” the piece of bread up when it is finished.  It reminds me of the TV show, “I Love Lucy”, where Lucy is making Ricky breakfast.  He is reading the paper and she puts bread in the toaster.  When it’s ready, it “pops” up and he catches it. 

  

            (This toaster was manufactured in England; an Easipower LTD, Model B, Tip Toaster) 

           The oldest toaster was found in Pennsylvania and dates back to around 1900, a rare find.  I love the way the sides pull out and then flips around to “toast” the other side of the bread.   

                             (This is a Universal by Landers Fraby R. Clark, New Britain, CT)

     I remember when banks used to give away toasters or small appliances for opening a new account.  I think toasters have often been maligned.  They can be colorful, a good size, can be used for many food items, and aren’t too expensive.

    Time and Time Again, when I’m out and about antiquing, or just browsing at a flea market, I’ll look under tables at the clutter beneath and hope to find a unique toaster – a piece of history that somebody just threw away.  I wonder if Lucy and Ricky owned one of these toasters?  Hm…..

    

Memorial Day - 2015

    When I was a little girl, I remember walking home from school in Royersford, Pennsylvania,  and noticing the Blue Star or Gold Star banners hung in the windows of several homes.  I asked my parents what that meant.  Dad said, “The Blue Star means that the family has someone serving in the Armed Forces in a war or hostility.  The Gold Star means that the family lost a member ".

    Years later, as a member of our high school marching band, I was proud to march on Memorial Day, down Main Street, then across 7^th Avenue, and up Walnut Street to Fernwood Cemetery.  Along with the Boy Scouts waving their little flags, the local fire companies, and other organizations, I helped honor those who had served their nation.  The Boy Scouts put an American flag on the gravesite of every American soldier from the Revolutionary War to the current day. 

    Then the ceremony would start, hands would cover hearts and eventually taps would echo throughout the cemetery.  Tears would slip down the faces of many of the attendees.   After the ceremony, the band would march out of the cemetery silently, to the cadence of a single snare drum.  When we returned to the site of where the parade began, I remember Nelson’s Dairy would provide ice cream “Dixie cups” with little wooden spoons for everyone.

    A few years ago my sister, Kathy Savage and I were visiting New Holland in Lancaster County. We noticed banners hanging from the light poles on the main street.  The banners contained the faces, names and dates of veterans of their town, past and present.  What a wonderful way to honor their veterans!  As far as you could see, up and down the street, the faces of people from every military service, every war, every conflict, were on banners for all to see.  Kathy and I said to each other, wouldn’t that be great if Royersford had a similar program for the veterans in our hometown? 

     Earlier this year, I was in my hometown.  Kathy took me to see the banners  adopted by the Royersford Borough Council.  It was heartwarming to see not only my Dad’s face on a banner, but so many local heroes, as well.

  

                                   (Our Dad, Tech Sgt William W. Randall, WWII, US Army)

    My sister had paid a fee to have Dad’s photo on the banner for a specified period of time.  I was happy to see that she had honored Dad in this way.  Now everyone could see the man we loved and have been so proud of all these years.   Dad would have been proud, too, to see so many comrades honored in this way.

    There were other “faces” on the banners that I recognized and I hope that other families will look into this program and support it.  I think it would be wonderful if every town, every city in America would have a similar program and honor its veterans, past and present in this manner.  Seeing these faces every day makes their sacrifices a bit more real. 

    I now live in “military city USA”, San Antonio, Texas.  Memorial Day, as well as every day is special in our city for our military members.  The young military greet the old veterans; Vietnam Vets hug each other and say, “welcome back, Brother”.  Boy Scouts and military members put flags on the graves at Fort Sam Houston National Cemetery.  There will be parades to honor those surviving members of World War II and other wars.  Time and time again taps will be played and tears will flow for the loss of those we love and will never forget.  Because, after all, it is Memorial Day. 

    NOTE:    This year I would like to give a special thanks to the brother of a classmate at Spring-Ford Senior High School.  Daniel Dolby was in my graduating class.  His brother, SP4 David C. Dolby was awarded the Medal of Honor for service in South Vietnam on May 21, 1966.  To David, our heartfelt gratitude.  To David’s family, no words can thank you enough for his sacrifice.

   

    

The "Other" Margaritaville

    Adare Drive, Fairfax, Virginia, from 1983-1986 was where it was happening.  Truly one of the best addresses we have ever owned.  We resided on a "pipe stem" which was different from a cul-de-sac.  The pipe stem shared a mutual driveway (down a slight hill), then branched off to five separate driveways to five homes, just like fingers on your hand.  Think of your palm as the “common area” in our little neighborhood.

    There was always something going on – something fun!  Five houses, nine people, a few dogs, and we all got along.  It was a new development, and as one couple moved in, they were properly welcomed and invited to a BBQ with libations or iced tea, and then the gatherings began to grow, until all five homes were occupied.  There was a book publisher, a dentist, a gas/oil executive, a retirement planner, several military officers, a school teacher, and a budget analyst.  

    We celebrated birthdays, 4^th of Julys, promotions, new car purchases, wine tastings, NFL games, NASCAR races, and gathered for a Kentucky Derby party.  One of the neighbors graduated from the University of Kentucky, so of course he hosted a Kentucky Derby party, complete with mint juleps, and a betting sheet.  What fun!  

    Progressive dinners were one of our favorite neighborhood pastimes.  We would start at one home for drinks, move to the next home for hors d’oeuvres, on to the next home for the salad, the next home for the entrée, then the final home for dessert.  One evening we stayed at the hosts’ home and played Trivial Pursuit until 3 o’clock in the morning!  You could not play with your spouse or significant other and that made the teams much more exciting. 

    Other neighbors up on the main streets looked down on our pipe stem with curiosity and amazement and wondered what all the partying was about and why couldn’t they participate?!  Well, they didn’t “belong” to the pipe stem.  We were special.  They had their neighbors to the right and left of them and across the street.  We had our little group and we liked it just fine.

    And from this wild, wacky, wonderful group of friends developed over a 3 year period, was born Jay’s frozen margarita.  He is now known world-wide for this delectable treat.  The recipe is still well kept, except for a few close friends, who finagled the ingredients.    

    The housewarming party at Christmas was amusing as folks who never drank margaritas were finally convinced to try one.  Once they sipped that frozen concoction, well, they were easily won over.  And they asked for seconds, and thirds…..The best part was that Jay made two different varieties for Christmas – pitchers of red margaritas and pitchers of green margaritas, both with the exact recipe.  But, you guessed it!  After several drinks, the guests decided the green margaritas tasted better than the “unnaturally” colored red margaritas. 

    The frozen margaritas became the “house” drink for every family celebration, every neighborhood party.  “Where are Jay’s frozen margaritas?”  the gang would ask.  “Don’t worry,” I’d say.  “There are pitchers in the freezer and the cooler”. 

    When Jay received his military orders for his final assignment before retiring in San Antonio, the pipe stem gang threw us a farewell party.  And it was over the top.  One of the fellows had small rockets that he shot into the sky, we had the traditional more-than-one-could-eat selections of food, and of course, Jay’s frozen margaritas.  Thanks to our gang, they invited my parents and sister and her sons from Pennsylvania to attend.  So it was a happy, but sad farewell.  And the “margaritaville” banner stretched across the volleyball net – priceless. 

  

    (My Mom is front row, left side; Dad is in the middle of the Margaritaville banner, with Carl Savage between his legs; Kathy Savage is standing at the far right behind me and Jay, with Mark Savage on my lap).

    For the first few years after we relocated, we kept in touch with the neighborhood until the couples  finally moved away (several were military and got re-assigned), but we still are in touch with our favorite neighbor who is also a Dallas Cowboys fan.  He and Jay drank a few pitchers of frozen margaritas one evening during Monday Night Football.  The drinks were so smooth, you didn’t know what hit you – until the next morning.  I remember buying lots of aspirin while we lived there….

    To this day, we have never had the camaraderie in any neighborhood like we did in the “other Margaritaville”.  Time and time again, we’ve had some neighborhood gatherings, but there were lots of little children, the homes were not close together (country development), and large age differences.  On Adare Drive, at that time, at that place, there was that dynamic combination that only comes once in a lifetime, and boy, did we make the most of it. 

    When we tell friends about the “pipe stem”, and all the great memories we have there, I wonder if they really believe us.  That’s okay.  We have priceless memories, and photos.

     Oh, yes, and there was one Saturday we all pitched in and sealed our driveways – together.  The girls stirred big five gallon buckets of sealer while the guys spread the gooey black liquid with huge squeegees.  One of the pipe stem gang was enroute to a wedding, in tuxedo, but he stopped for a few minutes and squeegeed along with the guys.  We all stopped and waved at the folks on the upper road, slowly driving by, wondering what that crazy “pipe stem” gang was up to now?  And yes, there were frozen margaritas at the end of the day. 

Welcome to MY March Madness.....

    “March Madness” usually evokes thoughts of college basketball playoffs – the elimination brackets, the “Sweet Sixteen”, the “Elite Eight” and the “Final Four”.  My March madness is the culmination of a year’s worth of collecting, sorting, organizing, and then pricing scores of items for my women’s club annual garage sale.  And then there’s the set up and take down of the table and items not sold.  Welcome to my March madness!

    It starts in February, and the panic sets in as not all of the items have been priced.  I’ve only been gathering items since last April! The items are placed on my table for the sale which starts promptly at 8:30am.  The anticipation grows as the doors swing open wide and the crowd hurries through.  And so the annual garage sale begins again! 

   The Garden Ridge Women’s Club sponsors an annual garage sale where I purchase a table and can sell just about anything that fits on or around the table.  Of course I find things in the house and our garage and store them just for this occasion.  It’s amazing what I find and plan to sell, hoping that someone will see my “treasures” and just have to have them.  I do quite well and often sell out of everything that I bring for sale.

    I include a rack of clothing items and mark them at reasonable prices so those items sell quickly.  Purses, shoes, baseball caps with familiar logos also sell well.  It depends on what the buyers are seeking each year.  Sometimes the buyers are looking for particular household items like small kitchen appliances for a college student, linens or books.  One year I sold 6 antique dining room chairs.  You just never know!

    My “someday” items are included this year.  You know, those items that you hold onto, that you plan to use “someday”.  But somehow, “someday” never comes, and the item sits in a cabinet or cupboard. One day you find the item and think when did I buy this?   Why am I saving it?  The “someday” item.  And so it becomes part of this year’s garage sale inventory. 

    

   Of course I have 364 days to prepare for the next garage sale, but seem to procrastinate until February and begin the process of marking the items for sale.  I know how I want to price the items, it’s just actually doing it.  And then I run out of the pre-marked stickers, have to get in the car and drive 12 miles to the nearest Walmart for more pre-marked stickers.  But at least it’s a pleasant break from taking the items from the plastic tub, deciding on a fair price (at least one that I think is fair), putting it back in the tub, and moving on to the next item. 

     I am fortunate to have secured a good location for my table.  I have requested the exact table for the past 6 or 7 years as it has proven successful for me.  Although it is in front of the room’s air conditioning vent, I just wear a sweater if necessary.  The location does provide a bit more room for my clothing rack. A girlfriend and I usually request tables next to each other.  We help each other and adjust our tables just a bit if either of us requires a bit more room.

    Shoppers look for my table as my prices are fair and they get to know me and the type of items I traditionally sell.  And I like that.  I recognize familiar faces each year.  People that I know or have worked with, friends in the community, all stop by to chat, but sometimes the sales are so brisk that it’s hard to chat.  Sales come first! 

    I’ve already “found” a few items in the house to put in the sale for next year, March 2016.  Although the sale is a year away, I will be collecting things all year.  

    Time and time again, as I find things, they will be added to the plastic tub and await their turn at the annual garage sale.  Who knows?  They may just be the “treasure” that someone has been searching for all year.  Oh, no! March madness has already started for next year!

   

   

Christmas Morning with a Lionel Girl's Train

    Christmas morning protocol was not set in stone, but we adhered to it.  We wanted to make sure that Santa had eaten his cookies and drank his milk, and that Mom and Dad were sufficiently awake to navigate through any presents that Santa may have left.  Years later we knew that Christmas protocol was really for Mom and Dad to enjoy a cup of hot coffee and some Christmas cookies or toast before the opening of presents and all the screaming that accompanied that tradition!

    We had to wait until “Santa” and his “helper” had arranged the gifts properly by name, the tree lights were turned on, the stockings were checked for last minute additions, and that everything was ready for the onslaught of three little girls to follow.  Dad would call, “Ready”! and we would come running down 23 stairs from the second floor to the first, barely hanging on to the railing, our feet flying over the steps.

     We could not see the tree because of its location in a bay window on the side of the house.  The bay window was the perfect place to showcase the Christmas tree.  With windows on 3 sides, we could close any of the blinds at night or open them for anyone outside to see.  The windows were almost floor to ceiling.  The wooden platform that the Christmas tree sat on fit perfectly into the bay window area on two saw horses.  The platform was then covered with paper that resembled a brick wall, typical of the paper of those times. 

    One Christmas morning was a bit different from the others.  This is the Christmas morning I remember with the most fond memories.  This is the Christmas morning that I overlooked the presents while dashing down the staircase to find the most gorgeous train ever under our Christmas tree.  It had  a pink engine that puffed little poofs of smoke!  The coal car was lavender, box cars were yellow and aqua, a passenger car was dark pink, and the caboose was blue!  Perfect pastel colors for girls.  I had never seen anything quite like this.  None of my other girlfriends had anything like this under their Christmas trees.  Wait until they saw this! 

    Dad let my sisters and me take turns dropping  the little pill into the engine to ignite the puffs of smoke.  Oh, it was just the most fascinating train I had ever seen, or would ever see again!  I would sit for hours and just watch the most beautifully colored train run round and round under our Christmas tree – puffing and tooting.  

    Years later, after I was married and moved several times during my career, at Christmastime my thoughts returned to my childhood home and the Lionel Girls Train.  I wondered what had happened to the train set.   My folks sold the train set after they sold their three story home and moved to an apartment after all three daughters married and moved to their own homes.  I don’t know who bought the train set, but they are very lucky people.  I hope they have taken good care of this exquisite Christmas treasure.    

    In 1957, the Lionel train company decided to produce a train set for girls.  The original set cost $49.95 so that was quite a big outlay of cash for my parents at the time.   I am more than grateful that they purchased such a wonderful memory.  Today that same train set may be worth several thousand dollars.  That’s okay.  Time and time again, when Christmas rolls around, nobody can take away the memory of waiting for the signal to run down the stairs, be surprised at the wonderful train set under the Christmas tree and remember all the puffs and pastel colors of that beautiful train set.   Those memories are priceless.