I’ve been grooving to this song a lot lately around the house, in between all of my podcast listening. After the events of the past few days and living within a world that feels like it’s going mad, I say we catch our breaths this weekend and dance. Dance, because we are alive and we will continue to move forward no matter what obstacles present themselves.
THE ESTHER WILLIAMS AQUA SPECTACLE — Pictured: Actress/swimmer Esther Williams — Photo by: Herb Ball/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank
Come on in, the water is just fine! I’ve taken a leap today. I have a project that for many, many moons has been so near to my heart. I have held it and nurtured it and built upon it. I just kept dipping my toes in the water, I don’t know why?
I suppose that when it’s just yours, you can continue to dream about all the things it will become. But, this is a dream that I want to share and fingers crossed, I’ll get lucky.
So, I’ve jumped in with both feet and you know what? The water’s just fine. It’s a start, no matter what happens.
For some reason, I couldn’t get Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell out of my head this morning. Maybe it’s the weather? But I had to come home and listen to it after my run. The weather has changed again and my morning meander was pretty chilly. The geese have arrived and they were swimming around the pond this morning as I ran past. The fog muted the sounds of cars on the road, which made the woods extra peaceful.
The sky has remained a powder grey, all day. It is the perfect day to stay in, drink copious amounts of tea and a read a good book. I’m reading a particularly good book at the moment about a bakery and the lives of the family who run it. I’m dreaming of cakes and bread and sugar cookies and cinnamon buns…
Monday mornings come around all to quickly for me. But this has been a peaceful Monday so far. We grabbed a cup of coffee this morning and chit-chatted before Mr. Michie got the bus and I did my run. I kept stopping to look at things. There are daffodils everywhere now. In clumps of golden egg yolk hues and buttercup yellow. The sun was shining and the air was cool and so fresh. The birds were singing in the woods. I watched two little coal tits gathering fluff and twigs to build a nest. The woodpecker was busy finding bugs in a dead tree by the pond and the ducks were waddling around in groups.
I finished my run and went to the grocery store to get ingredients for dinner. The dryer is whirring away as I get caught up on laundry after the weekend. There is a fresh breeze blowing in through the curtains and I’ve been listening to beach music this morning. Barbara Lewis is shoo-bopping while I type. With all this sunshine and my beach music playing, all I want to do today is a get a hot dog from Jack’s Cosmic Dogs and go dip my toes in the sand. A girl can dream can’t she? Here’s to the sunshine, because it fills my heart with light!
I learned earlier this week that someone who had a great impact on my life, both personally and artistically, has passed away. We had been out of touch for a little while, yet I thought about him often.
R. was someone very special to me. I can’t quite get my head around the fact that he is dead. He was joyous, he was kind, he was funny. He was a gentle spirit.
R. was a fascinating man. He was a collector of things, like a little magpie. He was the guy you wanted to sit next to at dinner or at a cocktail party. He was a spinner of stories. He often shared the greatest tales: Growing up in Hong Kong, before being sent back to England for boarding school; school holidays spent on the Cornish coast with his aunt and uncle who looked after him; adventures in London through the 70s; and the many artists he worked with and the anecdotes he had of them were incredible.
He was always thinking, always seeing things with new eyes. He was a wonderful flute player. He was an avid reader and a superb gardener. We once traded a cutting from an aloe plant, of mine, for some marigold seeds from his sister’s garden in Denmark. He was a great builder of things. He was a pixie. His stories shall stay with me and it is now my turn to carry on spinning, weaving his tales so they are not forgotten.
I am so grateful for the time that I had with him and honoured that he let me see just a little bit of his world. For, he is someone I will never forget. I was lucky enough to call him my friend and I will dearly miss him.
Yeeeeee Haw!! We made it to the weekend! I’m so very ready for this weekend to begin. This has been a loop-de-do crazy week. It’s been raining off and on most of this week, but it looks like the rain might hold off long enough tomorrow for us to do our morning run and not get soaked.
Fingers crossed it keeps holding, so we are able to complete a couple of errands and not have to worry about everything getting wet as we walk along. Mr. Michie is trying his best to fight off one heck of a cold, so I think some bundled-up-under-blankets-on-the-couch movie time is definitely in order. Here’s to the weekend, long may it last!
There is something very unique about the South. There’s an essence to the people, to the way of life, to the general mannerisms. The South is a place that my heart yearns for when I’m not there. As there is everywhere, the South has a lot of off the beaten path joints and those special places that relate just to your town. Everyone has their favourite diner, their favourite hang out. You know who has the best sweet tea, where to the find the fluffiest melt in your mouth biscuits and who has the best pecan pie as close as you can get to tasting like your Mama’s!
A few months ago while reading an article, I discovered a Virginia treasure. Sally Bell’s, in Richmond, has been in business for over 92 years! Even more incredible then their longevity is the fact that Sally Bell’s was started after the meeting of two ladies at the Richmond Exchange for Women’s Work. An organisation that allowed women to earn money for selling their wares and work toward becoming self-sufficient. Just as important in 1883 as it is today. They’ve been at their present location since the 1920’s and not too long ago, after VCU purchased their property they moved to a new spot. In that move they discovered numerous pieces of their history stored away in the nooks and crannies of cabinets, drawers and hutches, they hope to put these on display in their new home.
Sally Bell’s is a place near and dear to many people’s hearts. That is clearly evident by not only the patrons that have been coming for generations, but also the people who work there. They are a family and they put heart and soul into their food. Their box lunches would be a treat for sure! I couldn’t imagine anything better. It’s nice to know that as the world continues to march forward, places like this still exist. The nostalgia they carry forward is so very important to who we were, where we are going, what we want to become and what we don’t want to lose value in.
I loved watching these ladies put the lunches together. What is it about something wrapped in wax paper? Maybe it just conjures up a certain time in my childhood for me, watching my mother and grandmothers wrap cakes or sandwiches in a layer of wax paper. The crinkly sound it creates always makes me think of a scene in Driving Miss Daisy, where Jessica Tandy prepares a lunch for her and Hoke. She wraps their lunch in wax paper and tucks it into a shoebox so nothing gets crushed. That sound the paper makes as she folds the corners in and later as they eat by the roadside, drinking Coca-Colas from a glass bottle, Hoke crushes up the wax paper that housed his deviled egg. The crinkly, crunchy, soft sound that it makes, I love that noise.
One day, I’m making a road trip to Sally Bell’s. Besides my boxed lunch, I think I will also be walking out with a box of cupcakes, because it just wouldn’t seem fitting to not do that!
Below are three brief, yet interesting articles on Sally Bell’s, worth a read:
I’m elated that it’s Friday and I have a whole weekend with Mr. Michie all to myself! The temperatures are supposed to stay cool this weekend and the rain is gonna keep on coming. Which means that after our morning run, we’re going to head back indoors and stay cozy.
A big batch of spaghetti and meatballs is on the weekend menu. We’re planning on pulling out some classic Eighties movies from our collection and hunkering down on the couch under a mountain of blankets. I foresee lots of popcorn being involved in our movie watching endeavours. Candles will be lit and we will just try to drift through this weekend as slowly as possible, because Mondays come around all too quickly again.
We’re in the middle of Storm Doris here and I only made it a 1/4 way through my run this morning, before I was beaten back home by wind gusts, falling branches, hail and rain coming down in sheets. I guess today, I just wasn’t meant to run.
The dampness in the air is making me cold. While warming up in the shower I started dreaming of Copenhagen. I would have bundled up today and walked down to the Torvehallerne. Maybe I would have gazed at the flower stalls before picking just the right bunch to bring home. Maybe I would have stopped at one of our favourite coffee spots for a drink and a mini chocolate cinnamon roll. Maybe I was lucky enough to find a seat by the window and I could watch the world go by.
Maybe I would have picked up a fresh loaf of focaccia from the bakery to have with dinner tonight. Maybe I would have been there long enough to have lunch and I would have stopped at another stall we liked, grabbed a seat at the counter and ordered this delicious chicken soup with ginger. Just maybe.