Rapture in Bloom

In my opinion, this photograph is my personal Best of Trip. Taken in the garden at The Mount, Thursday, July 9, 2009.

Micky's Garden (The Mount)

Klaus' ex-wife (& cherished friend), Micky, is nearly single-handedly responsible for the design, arrangement, and management of this garden. Luke, Kate, My Lovely Mother (photo by Klaus). My Lovely Mother. Photo by Klaus.

Call for Kitchen Pics!

[Ian and Traudel's kitchen, before the extension was added.]

Just wrote this in my journal and decided to DO IT:"I think I'm going to do a shout-out for kitchen pictures, ones that people don't mind me downloading and using in this book, privately. Maybe because my kitchen is, and has been, so wrecked! and I'm NOT a woman who is totally right with a discombobulated kitchen. Detail pictures -- not just 'the room' but cool vignettes (staged or real), favorite dishes, remains of a hearty meal! Decor themes, steaming mugs of tea or java, cutlery in drawers, serving utensil containers. Where does everyone keep her Tupperware? What does the inside of her dishwasher hold right now? I want that kind of intimate thing: what color are her tea towels? How about her dish washing liquid, what kind? Pot scrapers? Tea kettles, coffee makers? Hardware on cabinet doors and drawers? And dirty dishes -- let me see 'em! Give me hope!'

Thank you. Thank you very much. Please email me any you'd rather not post: antoniafufu@yahoo.com. I excel at keeping secrets, just ask Veronica. Drives her nuts! [And the new layout, IN the extension. With a view like that out of the window, who would ever gripe about doing dishes? I certainly didn't.] [Especially when wandering out to enjoy the garden distractions was not only welcomed, but encouraged! -- with a very handy escape door!] [And wandering shoes provided, at the ready. Ian loaned me his green ones. And THIS, by the way, is my favorite photo from our entire trip.]

Editor's Note: I don't mean anyone has to do a post -- just email me some pics, pretty pretty pretty please!

Near Glass Casualties - the Fixins Plates

The day before the Glass Catastrophe, I cleaned out a lower cabinet as the initial phase of a kitchen purge. Inside that cabinet, behind a bunch of (you guessed it) CRAP we had hastily moved off counters in order to plaster and paint, I recovered some family tradition glass items. I like a pretty table, especially when I'm having folks over for noshing ... thankfully, I had safely stored these lovelies and they went unharmed, uncracked, unmolested and otherwise INTACT! See this stack of plates and saucers? This is 'the fixins' stack, used at every buffet, family gathering, friend nosh fest, or whenever Toni Cooks Mexican Food (which is pretty often!). To lose these would have been beyond catastrophic!! The white coats with the straight jackets would need to have been summoned! Kiss Me! This little vessel has been moved onto my studio desk top, to hold my calligraphy pen nibs. It's one of the treasures I found while purging in, on, and around it! This leaf plate is home to my tiny serving forks, and on the plate with the cut-out edge, I sometimes crisscross a stack of pretty cocktail napkins. Most often, though, this largest plate holds assorted olives. My male children and I SCARF us some serious olives -- but Double BB won't touch the thangs. Rings of red onion are served on the iridescent plate to the left. Usually, I lay sliced avocado on this small plate in front, as only two of us like that. The colors of my soul, I guess ... roses, creams, some glimmer and sheen, touches of green ... and blooming!

The thing about being the only woman in a house of men is NOT to lose those gentle touches. I doubt my guys notice the dishes, but they notice the FEELING of the dishes, a meal somehow elevated, a sense of occasion, a special touch. This is a woman's hand. And I've been obsessing the last 5 days about my hands, but that's another post for another day.

Wishcast Wednesday

What do you wish to make room for? - the question posed by Ms. Jamie, at her new digs HERE. [one of the dozens of such bookcases at Chatsworth. A sight which makes Toni drool buckets.]

I wish to make room for reading. I have 57 books, in 3 stacks, of titles I either chose myself or which others I trust have recommended. I miss sitting in the corner of the couch with the curtains open, a cup o'java or tea on the ottoman in front of me, a blankie tucked around my knees, Zoe upside down in my lap or draped around my neck somehow. I want to wear my days of the week socks, too -- get OUT of my studio into the sunny welcome of my living room, and get lost, again, in the magic of books.

[photo from the Chatsworth garden]

B&B - The Mount - Keswick

You didn't think I was done with my England photos yet, did you? Ha! When we visited the Lake Country, and the homes of Beatrix Potter, we stayed here, at The Mount. This is an old home converted to a B&B, and run by friends of Klaus -- our host, Tony, met us with humor, enthusiasm, and warmth. All the items which furnish the B&B belong to Tony and his partner, from a former residence. Astonishing and varied collection, all of which compose a sense of home and retreat and welcome. The landing, just outside our door. Banisters, landings, love them! This leads upstairs, to Klaus' third floor hideaway. Our guardian angel. Inviting slumber, nestled deeply in, cozy beside My Lovely Mother. Draperies - PM. Draperies - AM, with butterfly. A welcome sight after our long walk back from Keswick, then the beer I had with those fish and chips! Lighting in our room. View. She lived atop the dresser (with the blue china plate, below), but I offered her a glimpse out the window and snapped this photo when she turned to thank me. I loved the blue china plate, but it didn't turn out well in the photo. Peter Rabbit and other Potter stories were the pillow themes (also the box of tissue). Toni. Photo by Klaus, from his third floor room. Next I'll show you the garden treasures -- oh! my!

Design Gig Opening

'scuse my recent quiet over here. Have been dealing with laptop problemos at home and turbo-busy-ness at work.

Meanwhile: is anyone interested in taking on a flyer design gig? My Dad's office needs someone to set up flyers for the 'Salons' (workshops) they host on a fairly regular basis. All can be done via email; this gig is not paid but is simple, straightforward, and provides great exposure in the Southwest, as the flyer is distributed to a huge number of groups. If you don't already own software, the group will provide it.

As well, the contact point is seeking someone to design a website; this gig would be paid but that would have to be negotiated between any of you and her.

I was attempting to do the flyer design myself, but my meager operating systems on my laptop, sufficient for my art and blogging, won't support the software. Eesh, blimey, and shite! My laptop is here at work with me today, getting ready to see the IT doctor, as it's been locked up pretty much non-stop since I loaded the software. sigh.

Anyway, time is rather of the essence, as I've left poor Dad and his group in an awkward lurch ... please email me if you're interested, and I'll put you in direct contact with the right person. antoniafufu@yahoo.com

THANKS!!

Cool Hand Luke

This just in from Ian: "Today Kate didn't have time to get your little man dressed before she dropped him off at our house for the morning. He still had on his PJ's under his jacket but insisted that he had the cool look before going out. What a cool dude he is."What a PERFECT WAY to start a Monday!

Glass Encounters of the Breakage Kind

[Monday, August 3, Editor's Note: I'm fine. ... had to extract a long pointy piece out of my ankle, then dig out the tip (which had broken off) ... it hit a small vein which is why all the bleeding. No stitches. The rest are just pricks, like from Zoe's claws when she forgets herself and plays too rough.]


... or Toni's Purge Intentions go Mightily Awry ...

OK. So I go in the kitchen to pull some stuff off a top shelf for purging, for a haul away to Good Will. The shelf just below it has all our glassware (drinking glasses) on it. I don't touch the thing, brush against it, nothing, and suddenly the entire shelf just collapses ... glasses flying, then GLASS flying ... everywhere, into the Paris (back) room, the living room, the hallway to the laundry room, and RAINING all over the kitchen. I'm standing there gasping, my feet and the floor around them covered an inch deep in shards ...

and I realize I have bits of glass sticking out all over my legs, both of them, and one piece in my left ankle, which is gushing blood.

So I yell like three times for Kevin and simultaneously I've started to cry -- he comes running (he'd been sound asleep; must've been something of Major Panic in my voice). He takes a look, dashes to find shoes, grabs a broom and dust pan but first helps me to the bathroom so I can pull these shards out of my legs, sitting on the edge of the tub bleeding, with my little tweezers, and bawling just cuz it scared me so bad, not cuz I hurt at all! ...

all this time later (about 45 minutes) and we have a trash can full of glass; I've washed the bowls that were under that shelf of glass dust, salvaged a whopping 8 glasses (from about 50) ... I mean, I wanted to purge but not our GOOD stuff that we use every day. And the top shelf I'd just taken everything down from proceeded to drop, but somehow I had my arms right there and caught it. Time for REAL CUPBOARDS I'D SAY!!!!

And my ankle has not stopped bleeding, tho' it's slowed. I'm wondering stitches? It IS kinda serious. But I want to wait for BB to get home.

And now I still have to go figure out how to use Double BB's big vacuum thingie [the one that he details cars with] to sweep the kitchen ... there is glass all over, still, after four times being swept: shards, dust, bits. Goodbye to my morning. And my best purge intentions along with it.

Anybody got any whiskey? I need a shot! and a hug!!! And a winch to pry Zoe out from under my studio table -- poor furry beastie had been taking a snooze nearby on the tile when all this glass hell broke loose!

Rainy Day Rose

My host and dear friend, Ian, is himself a writer/poet/journaler. He writes for his wife, for his daughters, his grandchildren, his friends; he maintains a notebook to contain his writings for them. This morning, he sent me these photos of the blooms in their garden, so I could see how everything has grown in this short time since I left, and sent me these words. I love them. I love him. I had to share. 'Words mean so much even though we don’t perceive the meaning on the first reading. Take time to read and analyse the rendering of the heart and the reaching out that is sought. Remember also that when the heart is touched be guided by your instinct so that you may not be hurt by future events, be strong but above all be true to yourself. Treat each day as a gift, that is why we call it the present, for one never knows what is waiting around the corner. Be compassionate to your fellow man for whoever is placed on the lowest spoke of the wheel they are entitled to our unselfishness and regard. Let common sense and experience be your guide through your life for that can be fulfilling on its own. A kind word can be the essence of feeling good with yourself for it may help someone to overcome their difficulties in life. Take heed of your surroundings, sit back and contemplate what this life has given you with all the pro’s and con’s and I will guarantee a smile will cross your face. Be loved for what you are; don’t alter that because if you do you are not being true to yourself or your loved ones. Above all live a good and complete life with love and happiness for that in itself is enough.'

Perspective, Mom-ing, & I Know What I Know

Journal Entry, July 28, 2009

Recently, some loved blog friends have had to go their separate ways, from each other, but not from me. The odd flow of connection & disconnection. Painful. I feel it over & over with time passages, all the times I've had to move (states, homes, jobs). It's just NECESSARY for me to remember that the whole of life, all aspects, is transient. Easier and easier as I age; hellish when I was young, and younger. I just wrote to one of these loved friends, "I don't feel like I know more than these younger women; and yet I KNOW I 'know' more than they do by the simple virtues of exposure, weathering, blisters on my feet and heart -- weight, warp & woof of experience, maturity." Said with a puzzled surety, not arrogance at all. It doesn't mean chasms or preclude commonalities. It just IS. It comes with me, no matter what, can't be denied or diminished. It's a grand exchange for all of us, even amid the kind of emotional confrontation that my blogging posse recently navigated. If these two lovelies had met in person, it may be their archetypes or spirits or physical chemistry would have spoken immediately about a less-than-perfect connection, and the relationship would never have progressed based on those signals, that intuition. The bloglandia environment buffers so much of that immediacy of response, delays its revelation, its impact. Anyway, I was thinking mainly in terms of my boys that I CANNOT take a 20-30 year old and 'lord' my wisdom over them. Mainly because they don't think I necessarily have any wisdom that's of relevance to them in their path of discovery. Certainly I, as an 'elder', challenge that, assert what I know based on what I've experienced. Youngsters [and testosterone-filled men-children especially (?)] think it's different for them [it both is, & isn't]; that THEY are different [they both are, & aren't]. Their adventures, curiosity, fresh approach & attunement, rattle me out of my presumptions, my stereotypes, my habits of thought. I love that! What I give them? I have NO idea, except usually a most unwelcome reality check, the caution and perspective of LOOKING BACK (20-20? perhaps) vision, which is mainly useless because it falls on deaf ears. I'm down with that because I'm the only 'me' that is and ever has been, and my path can never be exactly replicated. So someone else, someone younger, my sons specifically, truly CAN anticipate & achieve an utterly altered outcome. With David and Kevin, I have become the one who only gets loud and assertive when I think they're endangering themselves, their futures ... OR infringing on my right to think, choose, BE as an individual ... OR when I'm downright sure they're taking advantage of me, of Double BB, of gifts they're given but behave as if they're entitled to. That's when the can of whoop ass gets taken off my mental pantry shelf and emptied. In it's entirety. I'm Mom -- as such, I have certain inalienable rights to vocalize, to revoke or adjust privileges, to expect behavior modifications and to effect consequences if those go AWOL. An uneasy, NOT easy balance between me and two 'men' who are also my sons. Much as they may seem to chafe & eye-roll when it occurs, it's not an interaction I see myself dropping -- EVER -- just tweaking, constantly modifying to embody nuances. But they do what I did to my parents for so long, which is to see me ONLY as "MOM" [which contains such a plethora of presumed, sometimes paralyzing, parameters] -- and forget I'm a woman, a stand-alone individual, also. The older they become, the more I find I'm emphasizing my individuality, ON PURPOSE, because they need to separate from me (as Mom) but still have "ME". And me is not the sum total of my car to borrow, and clean folded laundry, and combs to swipe in one hand and deodorant in the other, dinners to eat. Those are functions that anyone could conceivably provide, not characteristics of my PERSON, my SELF. David, now 22, is seeming to perceive me, sometimes, the way I'm now able to see My Lovely Mother, My Daddy-O: as 3-4-5-6-7 dimensional beings who (in essential, intriguing ways) have absolutely nothing to do with me. SEPARATE -- the parent-child dynamic is no longer ever-present, though it's still of course a constant beneath our exchanges as adults, as individuals. My boys aren't there yet, clearly, and I don't have any desire to rush that. Even another decade won't bring it, I doubt. Maybe when they're in their 30s, with perhaps a child of their own. THAT event, singularly, altered every perspective I ever had of my own parents. Immutable, overwhelming realization, awareness! Have a child, cross a threshold in my own estimation of myself, who I was/am, and of my parents, who they ARE, who they WERE. BAM. I'm talking BAM - squared. Well, it was that for me -- total shock, even amid the joy & welcome & excitement. Oh! My! Gawd! I now have this David, this Kevin, to tend, to nurture, FOREVER. Can I do that? Well, of course I could, one minute at a time. And now they're 22 and 18, and I'm still asking if I can do this, this Mom thing! It doesn't get worse, easier, better. It just changes, minute by minute, as it has done since they were born. I guess I feel that so long as I'm still testing myself, strenuously, open-mindedly, with the question [which is one of my most HUGE and VALUABLE and ONGOING], then my eyes/heart/soul/love/intellect are able to receive what I need to help us all make it through each minute.

[On Friday, July 10th, I walked around Ian and Traudel's Durlstone Close neighborhood in Sheffield, and shot all these photos.]