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October 2007
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December 2007

Waiting

We slide into the grey days;  the low-ceiling skies bring morning headaches, and we reach for soft sweaters and take the scarves out of their summer nest, shake them out, and wrap them around tender necks.  Waking is an effort despite how early we go to bed.  I seem to need a cup of something hot between my hands at all times, which makes typing difficult.

The doorbell rings twice a day with brown paper packages tied up with string, or actually tape nowadays, and family members are seen scurrying to their rooms with added bulk under their coats.

At the same time, we hold our breath, praying for intervention. Mrs. Pom-In-Law is not well, a sudden development, and we wonder what this Advent is foreshadowing.  All prayers are welcome with heartfelt urgency.


The Calm Before the Storm

Rec



Autumn is past peak here, but it is my favorite piece of the fall. The most brilliant trees are ablaze, all scarlet reds, sunshine gold, and an incredible mix of orange and red that caused The Teen and I to exclaim at the same time. If I was of any intelligence, I could tell you what trees they were, but uh, no. So just believe me. I love this rag tag end of the season. There are just enough bare trees to provide structure to the piles of color lying all over the streets.  It's difficult to imagine a more picturesque version of Americana than what greets me when I walk the dog.

The house has returned to normal after all the comings and goings.  I cooked one more big meal - a bacon and egg breakfast on Sunday morning - and now the kitchen is cleaned up and bare. Mystery Man's room is dark again and all the sleeping bags and blankets from various sleep overs have been returned to the closets.  When I come down in the morning, the living room no longer has plates with scraps of leftover pie and stuffing on every surface and I don't have to run the dishwasher twice a day. Mr. Pom hauled more garbage out to the curb on Monday than we've taken out in a month.  All the extra chairs and table leaves are back in the hall closet and the vacuum has been quiet for the first time in 5 days.  Yes, it's kind of lonely and sad.

The kids brought down all the cartons of Christmas decorations, but more because we're having some work done in the attic than that we're ready to decorate. They can sit in the corner of the dining room until the mood strikes me. Mr. Pom and MM put on the exterior lights, but we haven't plugged them in yet.  I have, however, ordered everyone's gifts except for MM, who still hasn't told me what he wants.  Boys need much less to have a good time than girls. 

Not to say that he doesn't require more maintenance than the girls at times. He lost his eyeglasses over the long weekend. Seems they were in  his pocket when he was with his girlfriend at the park. Apparently, cartwheels were being performed and the glasses slipped out of his pocket. (And no, cartwheels are not a euphemism; he was actually doing cartwheels.)  He lost them in the very park where Mr. Pom and I once spent a romantic afternoon in a snowstorm. 

Maybe we'll have to go down there this weekend and see if anyone found them. Maybe we'll walk out to the water. And maybe it'll snow. But what with the rods in Mr. Pom's lower back, I doubt they'll be any cartwheels.






We Ate and We ate and We Ate

We do enjoy the holidays in the Pomegranate household, in fact all of my fruity family love to gather for any reason as soon as the weather turns chilly and the leaves begin to fall.


Kicking off the holidays is like starting a parade in our family.


Everyone dresses up,


Grls



Some think this is serious stuff!



Clwn_2


We get our groove on,



Bnds2




Rock out with cheer,



Bnd

And wonder at the holidays -

do they wear anything under there?


Pipers


Houses are readied,



Pltr2


Food & drinks laid in,



Drnks





The crowd gets hungry,





Bys


Let the party begin!



Tble_2




And the Winners Are.....

All of you, in my heart!  I wish I could send each and every one of you a gift to show my appreciation for your warmth and caring.  You make this blog come alive with your thoughts and comments. It was lovely to see new names in my box and I hope the lurkers that came out to play will continue to do so. We always say that writers must write for themselves first and foremost, which is true, but without readers, writers become a very grumpy and dour lot. Bloggers, needless to say, may be even worse!

Without further ado, here are the winners of my little contest:

#1    Ginny from smallstudios   (how many of us have drawers filled with her lovely stamps from Stampers Anonymous??)

#2  Beth from Maryland

#3  Dayna Collins from Alley Art Studio

And surprise - winner #4 - because it turns out I have TWO copies of Case Histories - that was before I remembered that I read it ALREADY. So

#4  Elizabeth in Scotland gets that extra treat. 

Now, if either Beth or Elizabeth has already read Case Histories, let me know because I'm pretty sure I have another book or two laying around here . . .

All the winners need to send me their mailing addy at [email protected] and the prizes will go out this week.




**********PRIZES!!!************

IN HONOR OF MY BLOGAVERSARY AND YOUR KIND AND LOYAL READERSHIP, I AM AWARDING PRIZES! YES, ACTUAL PRIZES!

THE FIRST PRIZE IS A SMALL ORIGINAL WATERCOLOR BY MOI

THE SECOND PRIZE IS A COPY OF KATE ATKINSON'S BOOK, "ONE GOOD TURN".

THE THIRD PRIZE IS ANOTHER SMALL, ORIGINAL WATERCOLOR BY MOI.

ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS LEAVE A COMMENT. ON FRIDAY , I WILL DRAW A NAME RANDOMLY FROM THE COMMENTS. YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT ON THURSDAY - YOUR MIDNIGHT WHENEVER THAT MAY BE-TO LEAVE A COMMENT. (

LOVE YA!!


Blogaversary

Bluevase_2



Four years, 993 posts, and 5,381 comments ago, I began this blog.

It's been a brilliant release for me, allowing me to write about what I want when I want, and with no editorial control.

I hope it's been as entertaining for you all as it has been for me.

You're all darlings and dear and I've made so many friends through this medium that I can't begin to count.

I've discovered so many bloggers with similar interests, and I've had a chance to meet so many of you in person.

I hope you continue to drop by - and invite your friends!


This is Sunday

Bagels



Mr. Pom always gets bagels when all the kids are home. And they all eat "everything" bagels, which means the house smells like toasted onions early in the morning. Which is not a bad thing.


Fire



It's the first snow!   Ok, it's just a few flakes, but how proud we are that Mr. Pom cleaned out all the pots of frost-bitten black leaves and put away the wicker into the garage. I took all the furniture off the porch and The Teen and Mr. Pom carried it down the basement.

I'm getting ready for the Thanksgiving feast.  I found a space in the dining room for the plants I had moved onto the kitchen counters. I took all the miscellaneous bottles of Diet Snapples and seltzers and protein shakes out from under the table and either put them in the fridge or in the back "pantry", i.e. the metal shelves at the top of the basement steps.  I moved an end table into the hall so the porch table can be brought into the living room on Thanksgiving without it looking like furniture warehouse. I took out a few candlesticks and serving pieces that are silver and need to be polished. I ran the dishwasher with all the sugars and creamers and serving pieces we'll need that day and cleaned off the top of the microwave to use as a bar for the drink glasses. I took out all the turkey salt and pepper shakers and lined them up for filling later today.

My groceries were delivered yesterday and a 21 pound turkey is resting in the fridge. Corn bread mix is lined upon the counter and the wooden bowl is filled with nuts and nutcrackers. There are fresh lemons and cranberries on the fridge door and bags of fresh bay leaves, marjoram, thyme, and there's still some rosemary and variegated sage growing in the garden.  I love all the rituals of the holidays: the food, the china, the freshly ironed cloths. I just don't like doing them all on the day of the holiday when there are potatoes to peel, chestnuts to score and roast, and turkeys to stuff. So little by little, I get the house ready for guests.





Duck



Has anyone seen the duck on the left? It traditionally holds the stuffing on the Thanksgiving table, but I can't find it. I think I put it in a Christmas storage box last year when we were decorating the house. Mr. Pom says he can't find it in the basement boxes.  Guess it'll turn up after Thanksgiving. We've got more than enough bowls around here, but he's sort of special since we bought him on our first wedding anniversary.


All the kids are home this weekend. We haven't seen Mystery Man since before school started in August.  Mr. Pom and The Teen were supposed to go to Boston, but since his Mom is ailing, he decided to stay home. The Princess went to a pub crawl last night so she's declared she's not getting out of her pajamas today.  We are going to sit down together and eat as a family for the first time since early August. I whipped up some meatballs, steamed some artichokes, and will cook ravioli in a little while that will look sort of like these.




Ravvies

The pumpkin candles are lit, the fire is going, a few snowflakes are lazily making their way from the sky. The summer things are packed away and we are winterized and ready for whatever weather will bring. I am slouching in my pajamas and about to begin a new journal stuffed with heavy Kraft paper. My gouache is ready at my side and I am working on the artwork for spring - a strange but necessary event in the publishing industry.

All Sundays should be like this.

Update: The meal was lovely except Mr. Pom didn't care for the lobster ravioli, The Teen disliked the cheese ravioli, The Princess pulled a muscle in her hip and can barely walk, and all 3 kids fought over who was going to do the dishes and who had to sit at the "kids table" for Thanksgiving like when they were 10, 8, and 2 and there was only one cookie left in the box.  I shouted and Mr. Pom retreated behind his laptop.

Let the holidays begin!



Ugh

 


This morning, in a fit of despair as we were dressing to go to the Thanksgiving parade, I declared with mourning: "I have no shoes!"  Mr. Pom retorted with a snort and glanced toward my closet as I scurried across the room to secure the closet door so the heaps of shoes littering the floor could not be heaped on my bed. For there were many, but not a single pair would I wear.

I keep shoes a long time, even when they are entirely unsuitable and not fit for wearing. You know what I mean, those shoes you buy in a fit of pique when you decide that you are entirely too young to be wearing shoes that your mother admires.  shoes that call to you like sirens over the sea, impossibly high heels with gold chains and pointy toes, stilettos for feet.  Or those sweet, red flats with bows that looked so demure and Audrey Hepburn on the lucite stand in the shoe department but at home look like red condoms on impossible wide and flat feet.

So my closet is filled with one-offs, shoes that will never fit right, shoes that are just a tad too narrow, shoes that make my knees ache, shoes that go with nothing, designer shoes that mocked me as I paid discount prices only to bring home and discover that the heels squeak when walking. A closet full of shoes that just don't quite fit two feet that are impossibly wide, with high arches, and two different sizes, making fit a conundrum of which to favor, the left or the right.

I have reached the age when I can no longer pretend that  running around everyday in sexy shoes or sweet little shoes is  my future.  I believe feet are the last of the bodily delusions to wilt and die, those dysmorphic mind's eye pictures of what we think we look like. It would take a Freudian couch and months to sort through the muck and excavate the place where the first tiny shoots of lust and craving sprouted for bright  flats with interlocking "C's", for black patent riding boots quilted to the knees, for  peau de soie pumps with taffeta flowers, for gold gladiator sandals made in Capri, or brown alligator heels that strike with sexy authority down the office corridors.

So I gathered up all the near misses, the dozens of discounted designer shoes, including  all the little suede flats, the pink eyelet pointy spring pumps, the bronze kitten heels, the soft green leather witch's shoes that lace up the ankle, the smart 3" heeled black patent pumps, the on sale designer shoes where just one more wearing might make them stop making me limp, the coral patent mules that I can only wear to church when I don't have to walk more than ten feet from the door, and  buttery  cordovan alligator driving loafers that I am suddenly walking out of, as it seems that my feet have lost weight along with the rest of me.   As Oprah calls them, all the "ten minute shoes" went out to Salvation Army in the ubiquitous  white plastic cinched garbage bag and with it went my trepidation over opening my closet door and my regret and moral outrage that I am so weak-willed and delusional to think that I could ever get away with leopard flats with gross grain ribbons on my Sicilian peasant feet.

And so I found I have no winter shoes.

I will not look back.

With the desire to get the monkey off my feet, I took them aching and tender to Lord & Taylor's shoe sale. On Saturday afternoon. Pre-holiday. With a strict half hour deadline before I was to meet Mr. Pom in the parking lot.  I steered past the  BCBG silver oxfords, the Marc Jacobs satin evening pumps,  the Kate Spade sling backs, the Betsey Johnson leopard skimmers, the Jill Stuart high-heeled booties, Tory Burch metallic wedges, Isabella Fiore t-straps, and the Charles Nolan peek-toes.  I started to round the corner past the Chanel leather ballet flats and fight through the throngs to the wall marked "Comfort" when I. Just. Couldn't. Do. It.

All round me where women with long legs, thin ankles, and narrow feet modeling slinky shoes with low-cut vamps, luscious boots that molded to their shapely calves, and satiny evening sandals tied on with ribbons as thin as spider webs. They all had the same look of adoration that I coveted in their eyes. They were in the zone. The smell of leather filled the air, lightly scented with perfume and the adrenalin sweat of 200 women flinging boxes over their shoulders as they tried on shoes and sandals and boots and flat and pumps and mary janes. Women standing by the stock room door with one shoe in their hand, the perfect shoe, the shoe that would complete them once and for all.

Me, I went "ugh". Or rather, "Ugg". 

Red-faced and head hanging in shame I headed for the shoes that I have ridiculed for years. I sidled up to those ugly, bland, shapeless, suede muffins of a shoe and tried on the clog. A soft, fleece-lined, rubber-soled clog.

And then stood in them for ten minutes as I tried to catch a saleperson's eye to see them in another color.

And suddenly, I realized something: my feet didn't hurt. My knees didn't ache. I didn't have to shift my weight from leg to leg. My feet were warm, they were comfortable, they were happy. They were shod in ugly and it felt good.

They're just for now, you know. For cold weather, for holiday shopping. I'll shed them come spring and by then a few pounds lighter I can go back to to pretty, light skimmers in sweet colors and maybe even a heel higher than two inches......

A girl has her dreams.



Good Things In No Particular Order

Mums



  • Watching the new season of Project Runway. Tim Gunn!
  • The father and son handymen who replaced our porch floor. (Pictures to follow.)
  • Glade Cinnamon Apple Candle. Who woulda thought?
  • Viactiv Chocolate Fudge Calcium Chews
  • Sugar free gingerbread lattes at *$
  • The Book of Lost Things
  • 19 for Thanksgiving dinner & the realization that we have an extra table on the porch (for the living room-unless I could get them to eat in the cold...)
  • Cropped jeans + short legs = pants that don't need hemming.
  • Glass glitter that tarnishes...sister #5 and I are on the look out.
  • Emails from readers of the magazine - makes my day!
  • Getting a Target $29  table lamp for my office - instant cozy, everyone jealous.
  • Book Lust With Nancy Pearl & The Writer's Block podcasts
  • Also The Splendid Table and Speaking of Faith (I lurve my ipod)
  • Friday night dinner date with The Teen and Mr. Pom at Il Baccio Trattoria
  • Saturday night date at the movies (in a theater! with popcorn! I can even stay awake!) with Mr. Pom
  • Divvying up the Thanksgiving meal with sisters and mom
  • Stop and Shop's Peapod online home delivery = no Thanksgiving stress
  • Oven baked sweet potatoes
  • Early morning drive to school with The Teen; 5 minutes of time together to start the day.
  • South Beach Peanut Butter Protein Bar
  • 49 pounds lost!!!!!!
  • Kids who send their grandmother flowers
  • Add your's here___________________________________

Abbudanza

Squash

Seems like there's a lot of everything at this time of year, no? A lot of leaves, a lot of color, a lot of weather, a lot of darkness, a lot of wearing warmer clothes, a lot of shopping, a lot of cooking, and a lot of lists.

I, for one, am unreasonably happy about the coming holidays. I embracing it all and can't wait to put up my Christmas decorations. In fact, I've  sneakily put out a few bottle brush trees that I just bought. They are exactly like the ones my grandmother had. I'm not sure if they are tacky or so vintage that it doesn't matter.   I will hold off on bringing more out, though,  until after Thanksgiving.

This weekend is our town's Thanksgiving Day parade.  I haven't missed it once since we moved back. There's always someone we know marching and The Teen is usually a clown, skipping just far enough ahead of the parade organizers to not get caught shooting Silly String at everyone.

We are starting off the holidays with a bang. 17 for Thanksgiving dinner. Mr. Pom and I are trying to configure out dining room to fit two tables. Or at least our regular dining room table with all the leaves and then one skinny cafeteria table we inherited somewhere in our travels. Everyone will fit. Just no one can get up from the table once they've sat down. It'll be like a Chinese puzzle.

We are only given a limited number of holidays in our lifetime, and I don't intend to waste any of them.   At least that's my story today. I am ready to throw the switch on the tree lights, light the candles, put up the wreaths, bake a few cookies, and open the doors on the Advent calendar.

Check back in a month. I'll either be comatose or or wearing Jingle bells.


What I've Been Up To

For the first time in my adult life, all the  books I own are in bookcases.  The towering pile on my night table is no more. As most projects do, this one started with another. Two, in fact.

1)Mr. Pom finally had two minutes to install the new lamps for our bedroom.




Swing


They have dimmer switches. Sex-xy.

So I had to move my mighty fortress of books off the night table so he could get at the wall, which was a good thing because the heat vent is back there and they were blocking the heat and acting as a big ol' pile of dust collectors.

2)  Fortunately, The Teen is moving up to the third floor and I was able to grab her bookcase, which is the fifth painted bookcase that used to stand in a row in our giant Memphis family room. (The other four are holding the rest of the books in the living room.)  I thought it could go next to my bed, but it towered in a precarious way, which I'm pretty sure is bad feng shui.  I moved it between the art room door and my dresser, leaving Mr. Pom a narrow space by which to get to his desk. Our bedroom is the leftover furniture outlet, or as Mr. Pom showing his accounting personality said, "Our bedroom is getting too bohemian".





Bkcase


The top shelf holds all the magazines in which I have written articles. The second shelf are all books waiting to be read. Third shelf down is half writing books and half current books waiting to be read. Fourth shelf is art books and reference books. Narrow fifth shelf is more artbooks, and on the bottom are ALL my saved magazines!  Never have I had these in one place before!

The Teen also declared unfit a little painted bookcase that has made its rounds all over the country. It began life as a slant top desk on my grandmother's third floor. Sister #1 refinished it and took off the slant top and used it in her first apartment. When she moved, I grabbed it and painted it white and put it The Teen's nursery.  I painted it and on the very bottom, if you can see it, are her initials.  It fits very sweetly in the little alcove that holds our under the stairs linen closet.


Painted




The little stacking bookcase that was in my first law office got a promotion out to the landing where it holds older books I cannot part with, and Mr. Pom's collection of mechanical toys.




Stacking



I moved all my journals to hanging shelves in the studio.



Journals



Wow, the shelves don't look that bad in person but I guess I loaded them up a little bit much, would you say?   Top shelf is filled journals; bottom shelf is blank journals and a couple of art books.




All this leaves the big oak armoire in the studio empty & because I bought a little rolling cart for my printer and copier, we were able to get rid of the old cafeteria table that was jammed up next to it. For the first time in 7 years since we moved here, I can get at all the shelves of the armoire.  I have started slowly filling it with fabric.

Armoire

So far, I just have a few yards I bought recently, though don't tell Mr. Pom. As I was pulling it out this morning, he came in and said he was so happy that I was getting all my old fabric out of the basement......don't tell him that's still there and this is just what I've bought in the last few months.  He's still getting over the aggregation of books.  There's a reason I've never had them all out on shelves at the same time before....

I think I've done enough work for today. All this started because I went in the studio to begin the next submission for Cloth Paper Scissors.  I haven't even touched it, but I'm wiped out. So I'm off to Starbucks for  a skim venti sugar free gingerbread latte and I'm taking along Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen. I was going to buy it yesterday at Borders and was glad I didn't cause this morning, I found it on my shelves.....sssh!


Obsessions

Balls

My latest obsession - beading  felted balls.  And those of you who I know will, get your head out of the gutter.

I intended to make felted balls with wool roving. I bought the wool roving. A lot of wool roving. Never did it. Gave some to my sister - don't think she ever did it either.

But at Artfest to Nurture the Soul, there was a vendor who sold them - in all different sizes. I went there way too often. They also sold all these cute charms and pins. Yeah, so had to stay away or I'd spend all my teaching fees.

It's the perfect winter project. Good for sitting by the fire, watching TV, talking to the kids.  Thinking of stringing a few for a necklace. Or maybe a long keychain....or fan pull?  Perhaps shade pulls?

Doesn't really matter, I just like doing it.

Oh, and the matches - for candles, not cigarettes.

We're all about the ambience around here for fall - candles, fires, throws. If we could, we'd get under the covers, stack up the books, have a coffeemaker installed in the bedroom, and never come out.


All Souls

Hydr

The fuss over Halloween's satanic leanings always leaves Catholics nonplussed. We have no fear of the devil in the trappings of jack-o-lanterns and witchy costumes smeared with chocolate.  We know all too well  the pagan origins of Halloween but rest assured in the early Church's wrapping the tail end of the holiday with a feast for All Saints, followed the next by the Feast of All Souls, as forlorn a feast day as could be.

All Soul's Day is  always a grey day in my mind, a sad, little day, with no church attendance required and no day off from school. A careworn day when the festivities of Halloween and the grandeur of the saints are gone and all we are left with are the ashes and dust of all those who have gone before and a glimpse into the future of all those who remain.

Always fitting to have the three mortal days slide softly into the blackness of the return to standard time. Darkness falls with a thud  and we scramble to get home and light the lights and get something bubbling on the stove before the real, frosty fingers of gloom wrap around our heart.


Mantel

It's just coincidence that my father's passing occurred at this time. 17 years have  passed but this morning, as we prepare for Mass in his memory, the veil between past and present is as fragile as the spider web that adorns our front porch, and as strong.

Not usually caught in its web, today we allow ourselves to indulge, though not wallow, lining up all our memories like apples ripening on a windowsill.  Church bells sound more solemn, sunlight is more refracted through leaves that seem to belie our feelings, but we all breathe more easily without a rainy day.


Table


We gather as a family round the table that has been blessed with their presence over the years: fathers, grandmothers, aunts, and uncles, have all at taken their place at our battered oak table.  It is to large now, too clunky for our smaller rooms, the legs wobbly, and the finish cloudy and worn. But  every time we consider replacing it with something sleeker - round, perhaps, a painted table, or a long, trestle farm table I've covered for years -  my feet stick on the way out the door in the same manner as the table resists our pulling it apart to add the extra leaves when company comes. Instead, Mr. Pom takes it apart and sands it and applies a golden stain and layers upon layers of a finish coat. It shines softly again, but the layers of wear are still visible, every handprint adding warmth, bringing memories of first holidays, new babies, last visits, and countless ordinal meals.

All souls are remembered, and a few saints, too.


[rightcoverCPS15.jpg]

The new issue of the magazine should be on the newsstands now. I think this issue is the best issue they've ever published. And I'm not just saying that because I'm in it!  For me personally, it's a special issue because Lesley Riley's beautiful artwork is on the cover and she has been a good and loyal friend for years.  I can't wait to try these rusting techniques. I am a "patina" junkie and have been known to go for months creating stuff covered in that gorgeous shade of coppery green. 

In addition to Lesley being the cover artist, another online friend, Judy Wise, has an artist profile that showcases her incredibly juicy paintings. I can't get enough of Judy's work and being given the chance to see more of it, as well as read how she developed as an artist, is a bountiful treat. 

At the top of the page and as the opening article in this issue, is another online "friend", Charlotte Lyons. When I was a young mother and falling in love with Mary Engelbreit's books and magazines, I never dreamed I'd get to know Charlotte and I feel I have through her blog.  Her "mosaics" of found objects has me itching to clean out my drawers.  I often say that my art is made from what other's leave in their vanity drawers, so she truly is a kindred soul.

It will take you awhile to get through these fabulous articles, including a great spread on another blogger, Kelly Rae, whose work I admire. When you finally make it to the back of the magazine, be sure to check out "my girls", a series of collages that I fell in love with.

It's a gloomy, cold weekend here. Perfect for a fire and a long afternoon of magazine reading.