Word of the Year 2011

Word of the Year 2011

Release

  For many years I chose one word a year to work on and shared it with my family and friends…it usually had something to do with where I was in my life at the time.  I have gotten away from the habit in recent years and an interesting conversation with a customer in the shop a few days ago convinced me to start the very satisfying habit again.  The last word I remember choosing…was tenacity.  This year the word of choice is RELEASE.

Time to release.  Release bad memories, release the anger over old issues,  release hurtful thoughts of self-doubt.  Release old collections of objects I used to admire and now sit in my closets.  Release the extra weight that plagues me.  Release the negative thoughts that cause me to overeat.  Let it go. Release the bad habits that hold me back.  Release the projects I am never going to finish and hang over me, making me feel bad and unaccomplished. Release the little irritations of everyday life.  Release.

Release more of my creativity into the world.  Release more of these ideas bubbling around in my head.  Release more art projects, more displays for the shop, more of my huge collection of quotes.  More smiles, more fun, more travelling, more connections with the interesting people around me.  Release more love.  Release.

Release.

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Mom’s classic Cherry Cream Pie–recipe

 

This recipe has been part of our family for many years.  It’s classic and easy and oh so good!  My mom always offered to make our favorite dessert for our birthday and many birthdays one of us requested this cherry cream pie. Don’t bother to try to make it healthy…it’s best with all the regular ingredients.  Just think of it as an indulgence!

 Cherry Cream Pie

3 3oz pkgs Cream Cheese

1/2 cup powdered sugar

1/2 pint whipping cream

1 can instant cherry pie filling

First cream your packages of cream cheese in a mixing bowl.  Next add powdered sugar and mix into a very smooth consistency.  Whip the whipping cream and mix it together with cream cheese and sugar mixture.  Pour into a firm graham cracker pie crust shell and spoon the cherry pie filling over the cream cheese mixture.  Place in refrigerator for one hour and then serve.  Enjoy!

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Grandmothers of the World Unite

You meet the most interesting people when you travel…especially when you travel by yourself.  This anecdote reminded me of some of the characters I have met on my travels!

“I leant forward and, and in the curved mirror above the driver’s head, studied the passengers sitting behind me.  Somebody had told me that every Greyhound bus carried at least one grandmother, crossing the continent to inspect a new grand-child, and yes, there was the grandmother for this bus, sitting two rows back.  Grey-haired, benign, she was knitting a Tiny Garment.  Grandmothers of the World, Unite, I thought, moving to sit beside her.

“That’s nice.  What’s it going to be?’

‘A jacket–for my latest grandchild.’  She held up an intricately patterned oblong, and drew a further length of baby-pink wool from a plastic bag.

‘How many grandchildren have you got?’

‘This’s be–let me see–sixty-eight.’

“Sixty-eight?’

‘Oh yes.  Last time she just had the one.  But the time before, it was four.  Her sister, she doesn’t usually have more than two or three at once—but then, she’s a lot smaller.”

I groped for a suitable comment.  ‘It must be very interesting for you, having so many.’

‘It is—it is indeed.  Especially as one never really knows exactly what colour they’re going to turn out, no matter how careful one is.’

I sat in stunned silence while she did some intricate shaping round what appeared to be a neck-edge.  Then she went on, “Would you like to see their photos?’

‘I’d really love to.’  Indeed, I could hardly wait.

She fished in the canvas carry-all that was standing on the floor between us and pulled out a booklet entitled Cherish Your Colon.

‘Oh bother, that’s not it.’  She fished again, and this time produced one of those wallets that hold plastic display envelopes.  She flicked it open, exhibiting about twenty photos of pekingeses, each one sporting a little knitted jacket.

‘Aren’t they darlings?  I bred their mothers, every one of them.  They’re all over the states now—it takes me best part of two months out of the year, just visiting them.  Costs the earth in fares.  But it’s worth it, every cent.’  She kissed a page, and I saw tears of emotion in her eyes.”

—-Christian Miller, Daisy, Daisy , 1980

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All courage is a form of constancy

” He talked of those things we had spoken of so often at Rosario.  So often and so far into the night.  He said that those who have endured some misfortune will always be set apart but that it is just that misfortune which is their gift and which is their strength and that they must make their way back into the common enterprise of man for without they do so it cannot go forward and they themselves will wither in bitterness.  He said these things to me with great earnestness and great gentleness and in the light from the portal I could see that he was crying and I knew that it was my soul he wept for.  I had never been esteemed in this way.  To have a man place himself in such a position.  I did not know what to say.  That night I thought long and not without despair about what must become of me.  I  wanted very much to be a person of value and I had to ask myself how this could be possible if there were not something like a soul or like a spirit that is in the life of a person and which could endure any misfortune or disfigurement and yet be no less for it.  If one were to be a person of value that value could not be a condition subject to the hazards of fortune.  It had to be a quality that could not change.  No matter what.  Long before morning I knew that what I was seeking to discover was a thing I’d always known.  That all courage was a form of constancy.  That it was always himself that the coward abandoned first.  After this all other betrayals came easily.   I knew that courage came with less struggle for some than for others but I believed that anyone who desired it could have it.  That the desire was the thing itself.  The thing itself.  I could think of nothing else of which that was true.”

—-Cormac McCarthy All the Pretty Horses

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Penelope’s Holiday Open House

You are cordially invited to Penelope’s Hope Chest Holiday Open House!

Friday December 3rd 10am to 6pm

Saturday December 4th 10am to 5pm

Sunday December 5th Noon to 4pm

Lori Mitchell special event:  featuring her creation “Santa’s Goose Chase” at a very special price, just $15.00, regularly $24.95

Our store is filled to the brim with Christmas treasures old and new and handmade too!

Free gift with every purchase..and mention this blog for a bonus free gift!  Drawing for a $50 gift certificate each day!

Gourmet food sampling …come try some of our yummy gourmet food products.  Perfect for gift baskets and hostess gifts!

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The Ten Trees of Christmas

We love themes here at Penelope’s and what better way to do themes than themed Christmas trees!  We had so much fun at market choosing very special ornaments for each tree and deciding which trees to feature this year.  Take a look!

This was by far our most popular tree last year so we really went to town on it this year.  We call it our Peacock tree and it is filled with gorgeous jewel tones, with lime green, turquoise, magenta and purple accents and beautiful sparkly birds.  We’ve already had two offers to buy the entire tree!

Our beach tree is very popular as lots of local folks also have a vacation house at the beach and love to decorate a tree there as well as home.  Our ornaments include mermaids, seahorses, beach snowmen and many more charming shell-inspired goodies.

One whole large area in the shop is dedicated to Cottage and this fairytale tree fits right in! Gorgeous pastel houses, butterflies, fairies, and more, in beautiful soft tones.

This is our tree with an attitude! We call it our Girly tree and it features flamingos, cupcakes, crowns, princess signs, and signs about being a diva!

Our whimsy children’s tree features elves and santas, signs about parents and grandparents, toys, sock monkeys, and many more whimsical ornaments.

A new addition the our family this year was this gorgeous red and silver tree.  Last year we did an all silver tree and adding sparkly red to it this year took it to a whole new level!

One of our most beautiful trees is our Harvest Tuscany tree…in shades of copper, gold and chocolate brown.  It’s fabulous!

Our newest tree this year was our Wine tree, in shades of burnished silver, burgundy, and plum. Gorgeous velvet birds, wine bottles and glasses, and french words! A really fun addition to our family!

It wouldn’t be Oregon without a Lodge tree…lots of fun camping and outdoor ornaments.  We even have a Coleman lantern!

Our last tree is a gorgeous Victorian…which unfortunately was reluctant to be photographed. Our customers come from near and far to shop our fun trees….they know they are sure to find unique ornaments at very reasonable prices!

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The Effort to Subdue My Rebellious Heart

 

The juggernaut of reality shows doesn’t seem to be slowing down…they keep producing more and more the about many elements of sometimes peculiar humans. There seems to be a never-ending supply of people who will do just about anything to be on tv.  I think our fascination with these shows lies in 3 factors:  One…we love feel-good stories because we have tender hearts. Two….we love to watch people make idiots of themselves because it makes us feel like we aren’t the only ones who do stupid things with great enthusiasm.  And three….we love to see just how strange other people are because it make us feel less strange ourselves.  After all, just what is normal ?

By far the strangest new reality show that our household watches is called Sister Wives. It’s about a family in Utah living in polygamy.  Three wives, a husband, and a girlfriend, who over the course of the season becomes wife number four.  It is strangely compelling to watch.  Apparently polygamy is alive and well.  They get around the laws by only doing a legal marriage ceremony with the first wife.  It is hard to even imagine living like this…watching your husband kiss another woman, spend one night in four with you, make babies with other women…the list goes on and on.  The husband in question always has a goofy grin on his face…I wonder why?  The wives seem to get along well with each other and there are tons of kids.  The first wife has one kid, wife two and three have six each (!) and wife number four brought three kids into the marriage (from a previous marriage) and plans to have more with her new husband.  That’s 16 kids.  Wife number one seems to be sad.  Apparently the big tragedy in her life is that she’s not able to have any more kids.   I do understand that and don’t want to belittle her pain.  However, she has a beautiful daughter and there are many of us out there (myself included) who would be happy to have even one child in our life, and life had other plans for us. I think her sad countenance has more to do with watching her husband with these other women. She has admitted to having jealousy issues about the other wives.  My heart is sad for her.

While the thought of letting another woman deal with my husband when he has the occasional grumpy day does sound appealing…I can’t imagine the rest of it.  I read an interesting diary excerpt of a Mormon woman dealing with the issues of Polygamy in 1880.  I was impressed that she was able to maintain a sense of humor about it, under horrifying and humiliating conditions.

“Ever watchful as I was, I noticed little changes in my husband, which under ordinary circumstances would have escaped my observation.  By this time one all-absorbing idea had taken possession of my mind, and my husband’s thoughts, I believe, were turned in the same direction–only our wishes did not exactly coincide.  Polygamy was the thought common to both, but upon its desirability we entertained dissimilar views.

A man with Polygamy upon his mind was then a creature which I did not understand, and which I had not fully studied.  Some years later, when I had a little more experience in Mormonism, I discovered several never-failing signs by which one might know when a man wished to take another wife.  He would suddenly ‘awaken to a sense of his duties’; he would have serious misgivings as to whether the Lord would pardon his neglect in not living up to his privileges;  he would become very religious, and would attend to his meetings—his ‘testimony meetings’, singing meetings, and all sorts of other ‘meetings’; which seemed just then to be very numerous, and in various other ways he would show his anxiety to live up to his religion.  He would thus be frequently absent from home, which, of course, ‘he deeply regrets’, as ‘he loves so dearly the society of his wife and children’.  The wife, perhaps, poor simple soul! thinks he is becoming unusually loving and affectionate, for he used not, at one time, to express much sorrow at leaving her alone for a few hours; and she thinks how happy she ought to feel that such a change has come over her husband, although, to be sure, he was always as good as most of the other Mormon men.

My husband was a good and consistent Mormon, and very much like the rest of his brethren in these matters; and the brethren, knowing themselves how he felt, sympathized with him, and urged him on, and, by every means in their power, aided him in his noble attempts to carry out ‘the commands of God!’

One evening when he came home, he seemed pre-occupied, as if some matter of importance were troubling his mind.  This set me thinking, too.  I saw that he wished to say something to me, and I waited patiently……the idea that some day another wife would be added to our household was ever-present in my mind, but, somehow, when the fact was placed before me in many unmistakable words, my heart sank within me, and I shrank from the realization that OUR home  was at last to be desecrated by the foul presence of Polygamy.

Almost fainting, now that the truth came home to me in all its startling reality, I asked my husband when he proposed to take his second wife.

‘Immediately,” he replied; “that is to say, as soon as I can,’…

From that moment I felt like a condemned criminal for whom there was not a shadow of home or a chance of escape.  Could I possibly have looked upon the sacred obligations of marriage as lightly as Mormonism taught me to regard them, I believe I should have broken every tie and risked the consequences.  But I had vowed to be faithful unto death, and if this second marriage was for my husband’s welfare, and for the salvation of us and of our children, I resolved to make the effort to subdue my rebellious heart, or die in the attempt.”

—Fanny Stenhouse,  An Englishwoman In Utah,  1880

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An interesting test of Katz’s forbearance

“On the fourth evening , we made a friend.  We were sitting in a nice little clearing beside the trail, our tents pitched, eating our noodles, savoring the exquisite pleasure of just sitting, when a plumpish, bespectacled young woman in a red jacket and the customary outsized pack came along.  She regarded us with the crinkled squint of someone who is either chronically confused or can’t see very well.  We exchanged hellos and the usual banalities about the weather and where we were.  Then she squinted at the gathering gloom and announced she would camp with us.

Her name was Mary Ellen.  She was from Florida, and she was, as Katz forever termed her in a special tone of awe, a piece of work.  She talked nonstop, except when she was clearing out her eustachian tubes (which she did frequently) by pinching her nose and blowing out with a series of violent and alarming snorts of a sort that would make a dog leave the sofa and get under a table in the next room.  I have long known that it is part of God’s plan for me to spend a little time with each of the most stupid people on earth, and Mary Ellen was proof that even in the Appalachian woods I would not be spared.  It became evident from the first moment that she was a rarity.

“So what are you guys eating?” she said, plonking herself down on a spare log, and lifting her head to peer into our bowls.  “Noodles?  Big mistake.  Noodles have got like no energy.  I mean like zero.”  She unblocked her ears.  “Is that a Starship tent?”

I looked at my tent.  “I don’t know.”

“Big mistake,  They must have seen you coming at the camping store.  What did you pay for it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Too much, that’s how much.  You should have got a three-season tent.”

“It is a three-season tent.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but it is like seriously dumb to come here in March without a three-season tent.”  She unblocked her ears.

“It is a three-season tent.”

“You’re lucky you haven’t froze yet.  You should go back and like punch out the guy that sold it to you because he’s been like, you know, negligible selling you that.”

“Believe me, it is a three season tent.”

She unblocked her ears and shook her head impatiently.  “That’s a three-season tent.”  She indicated Katz’s tent.

“That’s exactly the same tent.”

She glanced at it again.  “Whatever.  How many miles did you do today?”

“About ten.”  Actually we had done eight point four, but this had included several formidable escarpments, including a notable wall of hell called Preaching Rock, the highest eminence since Springer Mountain, for which we had awarded ourselves bonus miles, for purposes of morale.

“Ten miles?  Is that all?  You guys must be like, really out of shape.  I did fourteen-two.”

“How many have your lips done?” said Katz, looking up from his noodles.

She fixed him with one of her more severe squints.  “Same as the rest of me, of course.”  She gave me a private look as if to say, “Is your friend seriously weird or something?”  She cleared her ears.  “I started at Gooch Gap.”

“So did we.  That’s only eight point four miles.”

She shook her head sharply, as if shooing a particularly tenacious fly.  “Fourteen-two.”

“No, really, it’s only eight point four.”

“Excuse me, but I just walked it.  I think I ought to know.”  And then suddenly:  “God, are those Timberland boots?  MEGA mistake.  How much did you pay for them?”

And so it went.  Eventually I went off to swill out the bowls and hang the food bag.  When I came back, she was fixing her own dinner but still talking away at Katz.

“You know what your problem is?” she was saying.  “Pardon my French, but you’re too fat.”

Katz looked at her in silent wonder.  “Excuse me?”

“You’re too fat.  You should have lost weight before you came out here.  Shoulda done some training, ’cause you could have like a serious, you know, heart thing out here.”

“Heart thing?”

“You know, when your heart stops and you like, you know, die.”

“Do you mean a heart attack?”

“That’s it.”

Mary Ellen, it should be noted, was not short on flesh herself, and unwisely at that moment she leaned over to get something from her pack, displaying an expanse of backside on which you could have projected motion pictures for, let us say, an army base.  It was an interesting test of Katz’s forbearance.  He said nothing but rose to go for a pee, and out of the side of his mouth  as he passed me he rendered a certain convenient expletive as three low, dismayed syllables, like the call of a freight train in the night.”

—Bill Bryson, A Walk In The Woods

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Take Me Out to the Ballgame–World Series Style

I received an interesting book for my 39th Christmas titled “1000 places to see before you die” and it made me think about my life as I was about to turn 40.  I decided to make a list of the 100 things I wanted to do with my life before I died.  It was places I wanted to see, career goals, personal goals, some silly stuff, some very serious stuff.  It was actually a really great way to reflect on my life and decide what was truly important to me.  I called it THE LIST.  A fairly recent movie called The Bucket List had a similar theme and so now people call these lists Bucket lists but I still call mine THE LIST. Simple and straightforward. I don’t look at the list every day or even once a month but it has remained in my head (and written in my planner) over the past almost 10 years now and every once in a while I look at it and occasionally get to cross things off. I am turning 50 next year and now I feel it’s time to rewrite THE LIST.  There are things that were important to me at 39 that no longer are….and new things to add. There won’t be 100 items any longer as I have crossed off at least 30 and won’t be adding more than 5 or 10 new things. This week I was lucky enough to cross a very important one off the list….going to the World Series.

My husband has always known about this list and has been supportive in helping me cross things off.  When it looked like my beloved Giants might have a chance to go to the World Series he suggested that we go.  I was over the moon with excitement! I grew up in the Bay Area and my family has always been huge fans of the Giants and the 49ers.  We had our chance in the 80s to have several fantastic Superbowls with the 49ers…but the Giants had rarely made it to the World Series and had never won.

My husband did a lot of research online and decided to buy tickets for me as an early Christmas present.  He didn’t want to go so he asked if I had someone else in mind, and without hesitation I said….MY DAD!  My dad was the one who got me into baseball and football as a kid and he has been such a loving supportive father over the years.  It would be a dream to be able to take him!

It felt like I was living a Mastercard commercial.  Hotdogs $4.50.  Garlic Fries $7.00 Foam “Fear the beard” Beard $10.00 Taking my dad to the World Series?  Priceless!

 

We flew from Portland down to Oakland Wednesday morning. Took BART out to drop luggage with my mom…and then reversed to take it into the city.  The excitement was frizzling in the air as many Giants fans surrounded us…some even had orange sneakers!

We got to the game early enough to eat and stand in a massive line to buy our World Series programs and other goodies.  The prices were out of this world.  A basic t-shirt $40. A hoodie sweatshirt $200. Baseball cap $50. Unreal.  And yet thousands of fans were buying everything in sight!

Watching the massive flag unfurl as our National Anthem was sung gave me goosebumps. And the flyover! And the roar of the crowd as the players were announced! We were given orange pompoms to wave, and wave we did.  Even my dad got into the spirit and waggled his pompom around. The Giants gave us plenty to cheer about.

When Uribe hit his home run in the 6th, the crowd went balistic. All the fans around us high-fived us and screamed and yelled.  I have never seen anything like it. You could not hear yourself screaming.  It was incredible.

We sat in the bleachers behind home plate, 2nd row back.  They were great seats, on the aisle. Great view and easy access.  There was a jokester guy sitting in front of us, who kept getting up and trying to start a WAVE.  Nobody bit and someone yelled, “the wave is so 80s man!” We had a fun couple next to us….she was extremely vocal and extremely funny.

One of my favorite things about the event was seeing all the lights of San Francisco lit up orange. The building in the backdrop had beautiful orange up-lights sparkling. The billboard showed City Hall and many other landmarks around the city with orange spotlights.  It was also fabulous singing along with Tony Bennett to “I left my heart in San Francisco” and “Take me out to the ballgame”, and watching Steve Perry lead us in a rendition of “when the lights go down on the city”.  Magical.

And I saved the best for last.  One of the things I love about the Giants is the quirky personalities of their players.  I loved chanting UUUUU—RIBE with the crowd. I loved all the Panda hats.  And I especially love love love the Fear The Beard theme that was going on.  I do love my quirky. Just ask my family and friends.  So I vowed on Twitter and Facebook to wear a beard.  And here I am!

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Woman, whose nature is to love

” Woman, whose nature is to love home and to cling to all home ties and associations, cannot be torn from that spot that is the little centre of joy and peace and comfort to her, without many painful regrets.  No matter however poor she may be, how low her lot in life may be cast, home to her is dear, the thought of it and the love of it clings closely to her wherever she goes.  The remembrance of it never leaves her; it is graven on her heart.  Her thoughts wander back to it across the broad waters of the ocean that are bearing her far from it.  In the new land it is still present to her mental eye, and years after she has formed another home for herself she can still recall the bowery lane, the daisied meadow, the moss-grown well, the simple hawthorn hedge that bound the garden-plot, the woodbine porch, the thatched roof and narrow casement window of her early home.  She hears the singing of the birds, the murmuring of the bees, the tinkling of the rill, and busy hum of cheerful labour from the village or the farm, when those beside her can hear only the deep cadence of the wind among the lofty forest-trees, the jangling of the cattle-bells, or strokes of the chopper’s axe in the wood.  As the seasons return she thinks of the flowers that she loved in childhood; the pale primrose, the cowslip and the blue-bell, with the humble daisy and heath-flowers; and what would she give for one, just ONE of those old familiar flowers!  No wonder that the heart of the emigrant’s wife is sometimes sad, and needs to be dealt gently with by her less sensitive partner; who if she were less devoted to home, would hardly love her more, for this attachment to home lies much of her charm as a wife and mother in his eyes—but kindness and sympathy, which she has need of, in time reconciles her to her change in life: new ties, new interests, new comforts arise; and she ceases to repine, if she does not cease to love, that which she has lost; in after life the recollection comes like some pleasant dream or a fair picture to her mind, but she has ceased to grieve or to regret; and perhaps like a wise woman she says—-‘ All things are for the best.  It is good for us to be here.’ ”

–Catherine Traill, Female Emigrant’s Guide, 1854

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