Taking a Long Vacation:

to be with my daughters and granddaughter and sister and their men. I'll be back though... hopefully relaxed and ready to share lots more! See you April 12th or so!

A Girl:

The tree has entered my hands,
The sap has ascended my arms,
The tree has grown in my breast --
Downward,
The branches grow out of me, like arms.

Tree you are,
Moss you are,
You are violets with wind above them.
A child -- so high -- you are,
And all this is folly to the world.

by Ezra Pound

What A Difference A Week Makes:

I looked out my front door and took a photo. Seven days later I went back to my front door and took another photo.

Last Sunday, March 21, I awoke to snow and 31 degree temperatures... this Sunday, March 28, I awoke to blooming & budding and 72 degree temperatures. Hello Spring 2010!

Get Your Motor Runnin':

I have a hard time listening to music of 1969-2005... the years my late husband and I spent together. So when I'm in the car and don't have my ipod, I listen to talk radio -- conservative talk radio. (I am in love with Dennis Prager, Hugh Hewitt, Bill Bennett, and Dennis Miller.)

A few months ago though, I had to drive my young son-in-law's truck for a couple of hours and the radio was tuned to Lone Star 92.5 FM. Instead of switching stations, I listened to it for a while. It didn't take me long to realize that this was a hardcore guy's radio station. I had to laugh... everything about it was geared toward men. The advertising included Nascar, rock concerts, trucks, Monster Jam, Autrama, Harley Bike Nite... you get the picture. The music included rock groups like Def Leppard, Black Sabbath, Led Zepplin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Journey, Tom Petty, Queen, U2, Aerosmith, The Rolling Stones, and The Eagles. And the announcers talked about a variety of "manly" things, mostly sports. It was like inhaling Old Spice, dirty locker rooms, and puppy dog tails!

I'm curious to know out how many listeners they have and what their marketing data collection looks like. But why do I think this is so funny? I guess if there are "chick flicks" there can be macho radio stations as well!

Hoppi's Big Heart:
When my girls were small, a holiday tradition I established for our family was buying a yearly book. On the inside cover, I would write "The Cook Family" and then the year the book was purchased. I bought Christmas (of course!), Easter, and Halloween themed books. With each passing year, we accumulated quite a library. I would pack the books away once the holiday was over, and then pull them out as the corresponding holiday approached. I usually stacked them on the coffee table in the den/family room so that the girls could read them whenever; they became an intricate part of our "holiday decorating." Even though the girls are now in their twenties, they still love for me to pull out their holiday books. They love reminiscing past holidays through the books.

I've begun the same tradition for my granddaughter. For this Easter, I've purchased "The Easter Egg" by Jan Brett. It's a darling book about a rabbit named Hoppi. "Brett's finely detailed watercolor and gouache art is a showstopper, spotlighting lifelike — though nattily clad — rabbits decorating eggs in hopes of winning the role of the Easter Rabbit's helper. Hoppi is awed by bunnies' creations, which include an ornate chocolate egg and a 'whirling, twirling mechanical egg.' But when an egg tumbles out of a robin's nest, he keeps it safe until the baby bird hatches. Borders of twigs, pussy willows, daffodils, and ferns add greatly to the warm, visually sumptuous setting of this gentle spring story. Ages 3-5." Publishers Weekly

Jan Brett is one of the nation's foremost author illustrators of children's books... with over 35 million books in print (yes, I said 35 million!). She is a very talented artist who also has an amazing blog that I recommend to you.

Here Comes Peter Cottontail:

During my childhood, like most American families, we had holiday food traditions. While my Mother is an excellent cook (great, wonderful, really excellent), I grew up in the 50s/60s and our food represented the times. Easter always included: deviled eggs (made after the Easter Egg hunt!), lots o' ham, potato salad, baked beans, and ambrosia salad (you know -- canned pineapple, canned oranges, coconut, whipped cream and colored marshmallows!)

Now, don't get me wrong, I love ham -- Honeybaked ham especially -- but when it was my turn to do the choosing for my foodie family, our traditional Easter dishes changed. I try to make healthier, fresher, locally grown choices. Our menu now includes grilled lamb chops with cherry-mint sauce, sweet pea risotto, and grilled tomatoes and asparagus... dessert may include something sinful, but usually its just left over candy from the Easter Bunny!

The following recipe for cherry-mint sauce is A-MAY-ZING and amazingly easy... wish I could remember where I got it. Anyway, I promise, it will surely become your family's favorite side for lamb too.

Cherry Mint Sauce:
2 cups dried cherries
4 cups Cabernet
2 cups mint stems
1 cup mint leaves, chopped
1/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup water
1/8 cup cornstarch
Place cherries, wine, and mint stems in a large skillet and bring to a boil; cook until reduced by 2/3 and then remove stems. Whisk in chopped mint and sugar. In a small bowl, mix together water and cornstarch to form a slurry, and then add to the cherry sauce. Cook the sauce until it coats the back of a wooden spoon.

Get Lost In The Magic:

As I'm beginning to discover, every person walking on this earth has a story to tell... every person lives a life filled with tragedies and triumphs.

Chet Baker(1929-1988)... what can I say about this man -- this jazz trumpeter -- that hasn't been said before? "Chet Baker was one of the greatest melodic soloists of mid-century American music." Chet Baker was talented, appreciated, tormented, damaged, forgotten, rediscovered, and died. What he left behind was a body of work that touches my soul. His trumpet and voice beckon me to places I haven't been before.

While watching the Sundance Channel this weekend, I saw again an award-winning, Bruce Weber documentary about Chet Baker's life entitled, "Let's Get Lost." It is filled with his music, a fascinating series of interviews with friends, musicians, his children and ex-wife, women companions and lovers, and is interspersed with film from Baker's earlier life and some modern-day performances. The intercuts of footage from the 1950s, when he was part of West Coast Cool, are amazing and engaging. It's the young Baker, he of the beautiful face, in California and in Italy, where he appeared in at least one movie and at least one jail cell (for drug possession). And, then we see the aged Baker, detached, indifferent, his face a ruin. Shot in black and white, the film belies its age -- it doesn't look twenty-three years old.

Check out some youtube cuts of my favorite songs: Time After Time, My Funny Valentine, Tenderly, I've Never Been In Love Before, Autumn Leaves, and Arborway.

The Hands of Time:
I just want to say that I hate Daylight Saving Time. For some reason this year it has a hold on me that I can't shake off.

Every Spring we move our clocks one hour ahead and "lose" an hour during the night. Each Fall we move our clocks back one hour and "gain" an extra hour. But Daylight Saving Time (no, it's not Daylight Savings Time with an "s") wasn't just created to confuse our schedules. "The change to Daylight Saving Time allows us to use less energy in lighting our homes by taking advantage of the longer and later daylight hours."

I'm not doing a good job of springing forward. I may use less energy lighting my home at night, but it also means I use more energy lighting it in the morning! To the DST gods: I do not need the extra hour of sunlight at the end of the day... what I need is the extra hour of darkness in the morning! Give me a break!

You know what's going to happen, don't you? In the Fall -- in eight months -- when it's time to fall back, I'm going to write how happy I am with Daylight Saving Time.

A Winking Eye & Winking Stars:

I've been "on the go" these past few months, every day and weekend packed with places to visit and people to see... Getaways and Retreats, Mini-cations and Obli-cations. I was looking forward to working in the yard this weekend but because rain and cold weather are in the forecast, looks like I'll be doing lots of nothing... well, maybe some gumbo making, painting, and book reading!

I have been reading a lot lately -- in between all the going -- can you tell?! I go to bed with words racing around inside my skull and wake up with the sure knowledge that I've been dreaming in meter and rhyme. My feet stumble getting out of bed because my mind is so preoccupied that I can't gather a single message to tell them how to move. Something has definitely loosened my hibernating brain... which reminds me of a favorite quote:

"But then they danced down the street like dingledodies,

and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life

after people who interest me,

because the only people for me are the mad ones,

the ones who are mad to live,

mad to talk, mad to be saved,

desirous of everything at the same time,

the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing,

but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles

exploding like spiders across the stars

and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop

and everybody goes 'Awww!'"

~ Jack "Ti Jean" Kerouac, On the Road

Waiting to Exist:

So now I'm moving on to becoming what I always wanted to be when I grew up -- a bona fide artist. What I didn't know was that "when I grew up" meant in my second life... after my life as a wife was over, after my life as a mother was shelved, after I found myself, after I moved into The Twilight Years. Instead of becoming an invisible old woman, a "distasteful, useless lump of flesh, scourge of relatives, and a burden to society," I will become an artist with all the irrational, eccentric, creative, extreme and brilliant adjectives that implies!

It's taking a lot more research and study to become this new person than I expected. To help with this undertaking, I've ordered the Sixth Edition of "How to Survive and Prosper As An Artist." It is the guide to "Selling Yourself Without Selling Your Soul," which I might add, is exactly what I've been doing wrong up to now.

This handbook is supposed to "put to rest the popular myth of the starving artist." It promises to help me make a good living by taking an active stand in promoting my career and to help me navigate the corridors of power that lead to success in the art world. It is filled with chapters of information: Overcoming Career Blocks, Launching or Relaunching Your Career, Entering the Marketplace, Presentation Tools and Packages, Art Marketing and the Internet, Pricing Your Work, Public Relations: Keep Those Cards and Letters Coming In and Going Out, Exhibition and Sales Opportunities: Using Those That Exist and Creating Your Own, Dealing with Dealers and Psyching Them Out, The Mysterious World of Grants: Fact and Fiction, Generating Income: Alternatives to Driving a Cab, and "Rationalization, Paranoia, Competition, Rejection, and the Overwhelm Factor."

Waiting for the postman to deliver the handbook, I have my black and red pen ready, as well as my florescent yellow highlighter. I'll let you know if it is, in fact, the Holy Grail!

Happy St. Patrick's Day:

With a heavy brogue I want to say, "Top of the mornin' to ya!" but read recently that Irishmen don't use that greeting... ever! It's New Zealanders slang; has to do with being on the bottom of the world but believing they are on "top of the world" or something. Anyway, I guess my little Hallmark leprechaun is from New Zealand, huh?

Erin Go Bragh... Can I say that? I dunno. It means "Ireland until eternity." Since I'm Scotch-Irish, I guess it would make one side of my ancestral line happy. And did you know that this holiday (holy day?) commemorates the death of St. Patrick? Seems a bit morbid.

All I know is that today means lots of people will be wearing green, drinking green beer, eating cornbeef & cabbage & carrots & potatoes & soda bread, having parades (St. Paddy or Gay Pride), and celebrating life in general. Sounds good to me... Cead mile failte, ya'll!

Spring, Glorious Spring:
Instead of sitting at my desk in front of the computer screen, I wish I were taking a walk under the beauty of these trees, listening to the birds warble, the buzz of the bees, and smell the frangrances of buds and blossoms.

March is an in between month,
When wintry winds are high.
But milder days remind us all,
Spring's coming by and by.

Thanks, Patty... wish I was there!

Blue Boy:
I had the happy opportunity to visit the R.W. Norton Art Gallery in Shreveport this weekend. Along with their exquisite permanent collections, The Norton presented a special exhibition, "Fantasies and Fairytales: Maxfield Parrish and the Art of Print" (showing now through April 11, 2010.)

This exhibit included a comprehensive sampling of Parrish's illustrative work in a variety of printed media. Lithographs, calendars, posters, advertisements, books, magazine covers, and illustrations -- my head was reeling with the beauty of it all! Ya know, I have a special place in my heart for illustrators -- they too are true artists -- no matter what art snobs may say!

Parrish's oeuvre is housed at the National Museum of American Illustration in Newport, Rhode Island -- along with the likes of Norman Rockwell, J.C. Leyendecker, Howard Pyle, Charles Dana Gibson, and the three Wyeth's, N.C., Andrew and Jamie -- so it was a special treat to view his work so close to home.

Maxfield Parrish (1870-1966) was known mostly for his color prints designed for the mass market. His work graced the covers of Collier's and Life for many years. "The Garden of Allah," "Daybreak," "Dawn," and "The Sirens of Titan" were huge hits in America during his heyday, embraced by millions of households. He had a fine eye for detail, fantastical romance, and luminous color -- especially blue which became one of his trademarks, "Parrish blue." And he has been the inspiration for modern artists such as The Moody Blues, Dali's Car, Elton John, Michael Jackson, Enya, Kurt Vonnegut, Bloom County, and the producers of The Princess Bride.

One year before his death, Maxfield Parrish's 30' x 40' oil painting, "The Errant Pan" which was first published as the frontispiece for Scribner's Magazine in August of 1910, was procured by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. His work long regarded as "kitsch" by some art critics, Parrish felt honored by The Met's purchase and finally validated as a true painter.

(Footnote: His second son, Maxfield Parrish Jr., helped develop the first self-developing camera with Dr. Edwin H. Land's Polaroid Corporation!)

Always Winter Never Christmas:

Make your choice, adventurous Stranger;

Strike the bell and bide the danger,

Or wonder, till it drives you mad,

What would have followed if you had.

-C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

It Arrived Quixotically:

The next meeting of my "new" Book Club is March 25, and I am reading a book that was published in 2001... How did I miss reading this book? Why didn't anyone tell me about it!

"Peace Like A River" by Leif Enger is one of those books you can't put down. It is inspiring and spiritual and filling. I am half-way through it and have been carrying it with me everywhere, hoping to find some time to read a few pages. It is an amazing piece of work which reads like the novels of Carson McCullers and Harper Lee, plumbing the depths of childhood with innocence and blurred optimism.

I am rolling in Enger's lush prose...

"...worry died, as usual, at the hands of routine."

"...he unloaded it cheap to the farmer who understood burdens and the need to escape them."

"And now, because a story is told for all, an admonition to the mindsick: 1) Be careful whom you choose to hate. 2) The small and the vulnerable own a protection great enough, if you could but see, to melt you into jelly. 3) Beware those who reside beneath the shadow of the Wings."

If you haven't read it, do so in a quiet and still place. It will stay with you long after you've finished.

Before Twilight:

...there were the Coreys. "Death by stereo."

Rest in peace, poor misguided boy.

The Irascibles -- Rebels With A Cause:

In May 1950, a group of New York artists -- all pioneers in the Abstract Expressionist movement -- joined together briefly to write a letter to the director and associate curator of American Art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In the letter, Adolph Gottlieb, Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko, Robert Motherwell, and fourteen of their colleagues denounced the Metropolitan’s contempt for modern painting and declared their intention to boycott the museum’s planned juried exhibition, American Art Today.

The eighteen signatories of the protest letter came to be known as "The Irascibles."

The above photograph was taken by Nina Leen, and appeared in Life magazine. This very famous photo, known as the photo of "The Irascibles " shows 15 of the 18 Abstract Expressionist painters: Jackson Pollock (1912-1956); Barnett Newman (1905-1970); Willem De Kooning (1904-1997); Clyfford Still ( 1904-1980); Adolph Gottlieb (1903-1974); Ad Reinhardt (1913-1967); Robert Motherwell (1915-1991); Mark Rothko ( 1903-1970); William Baziotes (1912-1963); James Brooks (1906-1992); Jimmy Ernst (1920-1984); Theodoros Stamos (1922-1997); Bradley Walker Tomlin (1899-1953); and Richard Poussette-Dart (1916-1992).

The photograph caption read: "IRASCIBLE GROUP OF ADVANCED ARTISTS LED FIGHT AGAINST SHOW -- The solemn people above, along with three others, made up the group of “irascible” artists who raised the biggest fuss about the Metropolitan’s competition (following pages). All representatives of advanced art, they paint in styles which vary from the dribblings of Pollock (LIFE, Aug. 8, 1949) to the Cyclopean phantoms of Baziotes, and all have distrusted the museum since its director likened them to “flat-chested” pelicans “strutting upon the intellectual wastelands.” From left, rear, they are: Willem de Kooning, Adolph Gottlieb, Ad Reinhardt, Hedda Sterne; (next row) Richard Pousette-Dart, William Baziotes, Jimmy Ernst (with bow tie), Jackson Pollock (in striped jacket), James Brooks, Clyfford Still (leaning on knee), Robert Motherwell, Bradley Walker Tomlin; (in foreground) Theodoros Stamos (on bench), Barnett Newman (on stool), Mark Rothko (with glasses). Their revolt and subsequent boycott of the show was in keeping with an old tradition among avant-garde artists. French painters in 1874 rebelled against their official juries and held the first impressionist exhibition. U.S. artists in 1908 broke with the National Academy jury to launch the famous Ashcan School. The effect of the revolt of the “irascible” remains to be seen, but it did appear to have needled the Metropolitan’s juries into turning more than half the show into a free-for-all of modern art."

Someone told me that originally there were only men in the group, but the photographer insisted on having a woman as well, and Hedda Sterne (who throughout her career maintained a stubborn independence from styles and trends) was brought in for the photo shoot, even though she wasn't one of the signers of the letter to the Met.

(definition of irascible -- easily angered; irratible)

The Last Picture Show, Thunderbolt & Lightfoot,

Jagged Edge:

I really can't articulate how happy I am that Jeff won... is there anyone who wasn't happy about it? Well, I mean, besides George, Colin, Morgan, and Jeremy... "What's your name, boy?" "Lightfoot." "You Indian?" "Nope. Just American."

Cursillo:

Going to find my "Thin Place."

("Thin Place" -- Celtic for where the boundary of earth and heaven are close)

Such A Smooth Operator:
It's going to be a beautiful weekend -- the sun will be shining, the temperature is supposed to be nearly 70, and green is popping up all around. I feel like something spicy and vibrant!

Tomatillo-Avocado Dip
1 lb. tomatillos, husked
1 avocado, pitted & peeled
1 cup loosely packed fresh cilantro leaves
1/3 cup sour cream
5 garlic cloves
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 1/2 medium jalapeno chilies, stemmed, seeded & chopped

Cook tomatillos in large pot of boiling water until soft but still whole (about 3 minutes). Drain. Place tomatillos in large bowl and chill until cold (about 1 hour). Place tomatillos in blender. Add remaining ingredients. Blend until smooth. Transfer dip to bowl. Cover with plastic and refrigerate until cold. (Dip can be prepared 6 hours ahead.)

Great dip or you can use it as a topping for burritos and enchiladas!

Enchanted April 2014:

I'm dreaming...

...of marble quarries, chestnut forests, terraced vineyards, olive groves, and the Mediterranean Sea.

...of Montorno, a restored centuries-old vintner's home nestled in a valley in the Apuane Alps on a mountainside above the village of Seravezza, Italy.

...of doing nothing for two weeks but painting, drawing, sculpting, and eating in Tuscany.

Guess I need to start saving my nickels and dimes!

Two Suitcases, a Pair of Sunglasses & a Cane:

My brother introduced me to American jazz singer Melody Gardot.

I was walking through his still-under-construction restaurant and heard the "Muzak" playing. Although the sound was bouncing off concrete floors and unfinished walls, I liked what I was hearing. I couldn't put my finger on who it was though... sounded like Diana Krall, but no... maybe Tracy Chapman, no... Norah Jones, uh no... but who? He offered Gardot.

Her second album, "My One and Only Thrill" was released last April, and it has made her an "international sensation." Besides Gardot's ultra-smooth, ultra-cool, scat-cat singing, her accompanists and arrangements are equally noteworthy. (Think a young, female Sinatra.) And her life-story supplies the foundation for pure soul.

Six years ago, Gardot was riding her bike through an intersection when a Jeep ran a red light. The accident fractured her pelvis, damaged her spine, and produced traumatic brain injury that affected her memory, speech, and left her hypersensitive to light and sound. The prognosis was not good and the pain was great. Physical therapy and drugs failed. Then music therapy was suggested. Gardot never gave up. Slowly -- after years and years -- music therapy began to rebuild the neural pathways in her brain, and a musical career was born.

Despite her rebirth, this beautiful and gifted blonde still has to wear dark glasses because of her sensitivity to light. She carries a cane to counter attacks of vertigo and to assist her walk. A devot Buddist, Gardot believes her faith was an important factor in her recovery. "To be truly Buddhist is to let everything go, your memory, your expectations." Her philosophy extends to her lifestyle. Her only possessions fit in two suitcases which she takes on concert tours.

My favorite song is Wicked Ride (sorry no link to that tune!) but another is Love Undercover. Enjoy, enjoy!

Beryl's Blooms:

Now I know Spring is on it's way! While driving to work this morning, peeking out from under the groundcover, I saw a small but gloriously beautiful patch of daffodils. They are the golden banner that announces the end of winter. How many years have I delighted in their coming, in their fragrance, in their beauty?

Here, from William Wordsworth, is his 1804 poem entitled simply, "Daffodils." Dedicated to the Flower Charmer, my Aunt Beryl:

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd.

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.