Napkin tutorial

Our women's craft group had a luncheon tea today as many snowbirds begin planning their journeys home from Arizona for the season. Other groups in our park are having banquets, potlucks, and parties.

The luncheon table was so beautifully set for us.  At each place was the prettiest cloth napkin with a small paper box (also homemade)  filled with M&Ms and peanuts. It was so cleverly done and I'm going to attempt to describe how to make the napkins.

Start with two 14x14 pieces of cotton fabric in contrasting patterns and stitch them together. In this example, red gingham contrasted a teapot design.

Fold each corner into the middle, as illustrated.




Then gently flip it over so the folded corners are on the underside and you're looking at the smooth side.

Then repeat the process of folding toward the center as you did before. You'll now have a smaller piece.

Reach under and pull up one corner at a time to form a "petal." Pull each corner up only partway.

In this illustration, three petals have been pulled up
from underneath and one is still flat.

And then...VOILE!

You now have a fancy napkin that you can place on each plate,
or in our case, at each place.

Ours had a homemade little box in the middle filled with candy. You could use any kind of decoration, a fancy piece of chocolate, or even a teacup in the middle.  I bet you could imagine many different things to decorate the middle.

We were each given our napkin and candy box to keep as a gift.

I thought these napkins would be nice for a bridal or baby shower, or any kind of luncheon. There are so many bright and beautiful ginghams and cotton fabrics available, it would be fun to match them to the occasion.    ~~~ 

Memory lane

Today I'm baking oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies. So I set my iPod to play songs of the 50s and 60s as I'm stirring the dough and putting cookie sheets in the oven.

I usually forget about this genre, so today I thought I'd listen to something I haven't played for awhile.

Oh, boy. A flood of memories with each song.

Isn't it funny how you can listen to a song from your teen days and be transported back in time with very specific memories? I think during that time your emotions are felt so acutely and they attach themselves to a song, either for the melody or the lyrics, and it stays with you. So hearing it again, you experience the same feelings - or at least, you remember the feelings.

Remember "Devil or Angel?"  Well, that was Mike's and my song.  Don't ask me why. I really don't remember. But my first date was with Mike. We went to the St. Paul Winter Carnival's torchlight parade and I had to be home by ten. I had just turned fourteen.

The St. Thomas Academy boys hung out at the local Strandy's bakery and restaurant, so we'd meet there after school. Mike was so handsome in his crisp St. Thomas uniform.

But I lost interest after awhile, and dated others. All the Everly Brothers songs spoke to me. "All I Have to Do is Dream" came along when a boy I had a crush on failed to so much as notice I existed. His name was John and I probably stalked him through my whole sophomore year.

Then when I was a junior, I met my first real love.  He was a year older and set to graduate; had enlisted in the US Army and was scheduled to leave for basic training shortly after graduation.  He had baby blue eyes, a curl in the middle of his forehead, and a sweet, irresistible face. He made my heart skip a beat. Make that several beats.

So when he was set to leave for Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, we adopted the song, "Sealed With A Kiss."  The words were perfect, written just for us.

Though we gotta say goodbye for the summer,

Darling, I promise you this,

I'll send you all my love

Every day in a letter,

Sealed with a kiss.

Sigh....

Not all golden oldies were about boys. Songs like I'm Sorry, Tears On My Pillow, Silhouettes, Lonesome Town, all elicited emotions. But there were fun ones, too, like How Much Is that Doggie in the Window? and Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight? and Who Put the Bop in the Bop-Shoo-Bob-Shoo-Bop (Who Put the Ram in the Rama Dama Ding-Dong)?

Then there were the dance tunes. The Twist, The Stroll, Bristol Stomp. We learned the dance moves from American Bandstand. Bob and Justine, Carmen Jiminez and her sister, Yvette. They taught us how.

Graduation, 1963

They were songs of innocent times.  Times when drugs were something you took if you were sick. Smoking a cigarette could get you expelled from school. Getting into trouble meant consequences. Hot-rodding through Tangletown, TP'ing a neighbor's tree or soaping Strandy's bakery window was about as much trouble as we dared do.

Most girls were Elvis fans.  I preferred Pat Boone, Ricky Nelson, or the Platters. Perhaps that tells you how wild and crazy I really was(n't)... I did get into my share of trouble, though, but we won't go into that.

Burgers at Sandy's, malts at Porky's, after school at Scotstop, dancing with Doug at Kathy's party...

There goes my timer. My cookies are done and the iPod has stopped playing.  I guess it's time to tuck away my old memories for today.

But the best thing about memories? They'll still be there another day. Thanks for reminiscing with me.

And, please... help yourself to a cookie.

Honorary Red Hat

My  neighbor, Thelma, is one of those wonderful people you love to know.

She is one of those rare women who doesn't let one single moment of life pass her by. As I get to know her better here in Mesa, our winter home, she becomes more dear to me.

She is involved in anything and everything fun. From the park's Kitchen Band, to morning exercises in the pool, to card games, to participating in melodramas, to going to McDonald's in a clown costume after riding her golf cart in the Mardi Gras parade....  If there is fun involved, Thelma is in the middle of it.

Watching her makes me smile.  She balances out the introverted, reflective side of me. I always take life a bit too seriously for my own good.

Yesterday, I was her guest for lunch at a Red Hat Ladies' get-together.  She invited me a week ago as she thought it would be nice for me to get to know other women in our park. 

And so, for a day, I was an honorary member of the local Red Hats!

A global society, Red Hats International was founded in 1998 and is open to women who are age 50 and beyond. Its mission is to support and encourage women in their pursuit of fun, friendship, freedom, fulfillment, and fitness. It strives to reshape the way women are viewed in today's culture.

Well, if there is fun involved, I can see why Thelma is part of this group.

A nicer group of women you would never meet. Warm and welcoming, it was an honor to be in their company. All wore stylish outfits of purple and elegant red hats.  While at lunch, a waiter came to our table and asked "Why are you all wearing red hats?"

Thelma replied, "Because we can do anything we want!"  He said, simply, "Oh."  But we could tell he didn't get it. He walked away looking rather perplexed. 

Too bad he wasn't the one to take our order. In true Red Hat style, one woman ordered breakfast of eggs and pancakes, and a glass of Chardonnay. Half of the group ordered wine, because a real Red Hatter pays no attention to the time of day for drinking wine.

The group bases its philosophy on Jenny Joseph's wonderful poem, Warning. The opening lines of the poem read:

“ When I am an old woman I shall wear purple,

With a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me.”

I do believe this particular group's main purpose is just getting together once a month as friends and enjoying each other's company. Going to lunch is their main activity. They do it well, and I was proud to join them.

The leader of the Red Hat group is referred to as the Queen.  Well, in this case, guess who is the Queen? 

       ....Yes, that would be Thelma.


Thelma made sure I had a red hat.


Every woman should have a Thelma in her life. I'm sure glad I do!

Fat Tuesday

Happy Mardi Gras Day!

According to Wipedia, Mardi gras is French for Fat Tuesday,  referring to the practice of the last night of eating richer, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of Lent, which begins on Ash Wednesday.

We had our own carnivale right here at The Resort in Mesa, Arizona.

Who knew?

Residents staked out their spots early to watch the festive Mardi Gras parade, and lawn chairs could be seen lining the streets of Clubhouse Boulevard. 

The parade was set to snake up the north side of the boulevard and then around and down the south side. We sat on the south side and we could hear the parade approach around the corner, heading our way.

The excitement grew.

And then, there they came. Led, naturally, by the American flag. All stood up, removed their caps and saluted, as protocol for any decent, upstanding parade. The Canadian flag was also proudly carried as there are many snowbirds here from Canada.

The flag procession down South Clubhouse Boulevard.

The flag procession was followed by not one, not two, not three but five golf carts. All bedecked with mask cutouts, beads, crepe paper and balloons. 

The decorations weren't what made this cart special, 
but the women's faces were painted and their costumes were wonderful.  

And, of course, what would any parade be without candy being thrown out onto the street? We collected at least five Starburst candies, a few Tootsie Rolls and a necklace or two. Such a haul we made.

In costume, throwing candy and honking, were our favorite clowns,
Betty (left) and Thelma (right).

Thelma is our neighbor across the street and is the most fun-loving person around. Always game for a parade or a party. There are usually several golf carts gathered around her home, sometimes late into the evening, and we know there are laughs and good times going on inside.

One of these days, we'll crash the party and see for ourselves....

In the meantime, a good time was had today right here at The Resort, with our very own Carnivale.

And as Mardi Gras tradition dictates, we'll be having pancakes for supper.

The first waffle

Many years ago, when my children were small, we attended a weekend family retreat. The children went off to work on craft projects with their leaders while the adults gathered for a presentation on parenting.

The guest speaker took us through the roles each child assumes in the family, according to their birth order. "Ordinal positioning," he called it.

He described the oldest child by comparing them to the first waffle.

When you make waffles, the first one is often "experimental" as you determine that the waffle iron is exactly the right temperature and you've poured exactly the right amount of batter into it; that you have opened the cover in exactly the right time for the waffle to be completely done without over or under-cooking.

Then your confidence builds with each waffle that follows, the speaker continued. He suggested, tongue-in-cheek, that perhaps we should just discard that first waffle.

I am the oldest of six children. That first waffle.


The first waffle.
Far from perfect.

The responsibility is great and the challenge daunting for the parents of a first-born. It will continue to be daunting as they try to determine just what this child needs, just how to respond, just how far they can go, just how much freedom to allow. And you worry that they won't be just perfect.

Because that is what you expect with your first child:  perfection.

After all, they are a reflection on you.

And then comes Child #2. You relax a bit. The first child seems to be doing okay. And with Child #3, you relax even more, as the first two have done nicely. You loosen your grip. Things just come naturally. All is well.

Besides, you don't have time to focus all of your energy on one child, as you did before.

But much continues to be expected from that first child.

The waffles that follow come so much easier, but that first waffle is still a bit too crisp around the edges, a bit undone in the center. You keep pushing to make it better and better, more and more perfect.

That is the plight of the first child. I should know. I lived it. Much was expected. I was the example for my four sisters and brother. They were watching me. Comparing everything to me.

But oh, the joys the first child experiences!  I got those, too.


Me with Mom and Dad
The first high school graduation

Having your parents delight in all your firsts, because you go through them first. The first words, first steps, the first to board the school bus. The first to read, the first to graduate, the first wedding, the first grandchild.

It is a privilege to be the first-born, despite having to suffer through the anxieties and over-protectiveness of your doting parents. 

And yes, there is responsibility.

When my father died nine years ago, I was an emotional wreck. I helped my mother carry out funeral plans, but I was not the one looked to by others for strength, because Mom was there.

I cried through the entire service, and though I had written a eulogy, I could barely deliver it. My sister, Christine, had to come forward to help me read it.

I didn't understand how my mother could be so calmly singing "What A Friend We Have in Jesus," listening to the minister so intently, greeting people with sincere gratitude for coming, graciously accepting my father's flag at the cemetery.

But when my mother passed last month, I was a tower of strength. I was able to make decisions, carry out funeral arrangements, notify friends and relatives, sing robustly throughout the service, confidently deliver the eulogy without written notes, direct others through the burial and the luncheon that followed.

All without a tear. I felt like a cement block.

Why?  Because I am the oldest and it was expected. Training since the day I was born to take over, and I was prepared.

It was a privilege that I felt deep inside my heart. My sisters and brother looked to me, as the oldest. The first-born. A place of honor. I was ready.

When we knew we were losing our mother at the hospital, and were gathered together as a family, my sister, Edie, turned to me and said softly, "Carol, will you be our Mom, now?"

No request has ever been made of me that has touched me so deeply.

The only feeling that tops it is the overwhelming awe I felt with the birth of my own first-born. I hope I have prepared her well without expecting perfection, knowing I probably did just that.

The retreat speaker all those years ago may have been thought-provoking.

But I will never discard a first waffle.

A day in Scottsdale

Early this week, our friends, the Minars, awaited a phone call from their daughter in Minnesota, telling them of an impending date for surgery which would necessitate a trip back home for them, either for a week or so, or possibly the entire season.

On pins and needles, not knowing what the doctors had in mind and waiting for the news, we all decided it was a good day for a distraction and headed to Scottsdale, about a 30-minute drive from Mesa.

We had never been there, and since they had, they acted as tour guides. Downtown Scottsdale is beautiful with upscale shops, art studios, pottery, silversmiths, clothing, restaurants, and more, more, more.

Only one of the beautiful fountains in Scottsdale

Much of the artwork and pottery pieces we saw were typical Southwestern art that I love. Small boutique-type shops featured local art and unique one-of-a-kind handmade things not found elsewhere.

After a morning of browsing, we had worked up an appetite.
The Minars recommended an authentic Mexican restaurant where they had dined before. So we feasted on enchiladas, tacos, Coronas and Margaritas on the outdoor patio.

It was a perfect-weather day, I might add. Bright sun, and mid-70s with a light breeze.

Perfect day, all around.

We took a trolley to Old Town where we were met by...guess what? More shops...and even more shops!

Just when we thought we needed to rest our legs a bit, we spotted a bench with one of those bronze statues that you can have photos taken with. So I suggested taking a picture of Mary Kay snuggling up against the bronze guy; and while she got settled for a good pose, I busied myself getting the camera all ready to snap the perfect picture.

Mary Kay and her "bronze" buddy

Well, this wasn't exactly the pose...

She was about to place her hand on the "bronze" guy's knee when suddenly he moved! It wasn't a statue at all, but a real man. I wish I hadn't been monkeying with the camera because I'd have loved to see the expression on her face to match the scream I heard. I looked up just in time to see him wink and she was laughing hysterically.

After that, we all felt like we had reached our saturation points with all the shops, and headed back for some yogurt and sorbet sundaes.

But I came home with a prize. A Mexican pot and stand, signed by the artist, found at a second-hand store (the only one we saw) for $30.

At the end of the day, however, the real prize for all of us was spending the day together, laughing, shopping, dining, enjoying each other. Forgetting the worry for a short time.

Then the phone call came.

And so this weekend, our friends will head back to Minnesota for their daughter's surgery and will remain there for the season. Chemotherapy will follow the surgery and their daughter will need their help.

We would do the same thing as we share with our friends the same family values, and we understand. We will miss them.

But we will be right here praying for a successful outcome for both the surgery and the rounds of chemo treatments, and we will pray for complete healing for this precious young woman.

We share each others' burdens because that is what friends do.

Thank you for the wonderful day spent with you, Mary Kay and Bob. And God go with you on your travels home.

A finishing primer

Few things are more exciting and rewarding to a stitcher than putting in those last stitches and finishing a piece.

Unless, of course, it's picking up your finished piece from the framer.

I got to do that last week and was pleasantly surprised to see it look even better than I had anticipated. My Southwestern Pots stitching came alive with the colors of the double mats and frame, carefully chosen by Sandy, a professional framer at the Attic Needlework shop in Mesa.

It's not an easy job to select the right combination for the framing of your piece. And what makes it difficult is that there are so many wonderful color combinations and choices available. If you find a framer with much experience and an artistic flair, one who can suggest techniques you would never have thought possible, you have a real treasure.

I highly recommend framing your work at a needlework specialty shop. They are in business for their love of the art and know how to frame fiber arts. Believe me, not every framer does.

Or find a good frame shop and question them to determine if they know the proper way to frame fabric. Do not assume that they do.  What is their technique? Do they press and prepare the fabric for framing or do you need to bring it in ready?

I have a good method, passed on to me by my sister, Edie, for "freeze-drying" your finished piece. It involves washing it with a fine fabric wash (as you might use for hosiery) or a drop of Dawn detergent. Lay it on a towel and roll to remove excess moisture, then put it in the freezer for a short time. Then remove and press with an iron, pressing on the wrong side of the fabric.

I always bring my piece in ready to be framed; that is, clean and rolled in tissue around a paper-towel cardboard roll. Some bring pieces in all crumpled and leave it to the framer to prepare.

If I am trying to match my piece to colors in a room, I bring in a sofa pillow, a scrap of carpeting or a paint sample.  When you start looking at the hundreds of hues available for mats and frames, it's easy to become confused. You don't want to rely on your memory or resort to guesswork at that point.

I also avoid places such as arts and crafts shops as they often have part-time sales clerks doubling as framing "consultants." They may also use inferior products while advertising deep discounts for them. At the point of framing your piece, you have invested too much time (and love) in the creation to let it be spoiled by poor finishing.

It's not always necessary to use glass in framed pieces. If it is a relatively small piece, involves beads, or texture, I want the look of fabric without the glass to spoil it.  In a larger piece, I usually use UV non-glare glass. There is also museum-quality glass; expensive, but you can hardly see there's glass at all. It is often well worth the investment.

Don't compromise on the finishing of a piece after you've labored to make it so beautiful. Your handwork should be a lasting treasure.

Above all, enjoy the creating. I have started pieces that turned out to be frustrating and a work of labor, not a work of love. That's the point at which I "chuck" it! I do needlework for the sheer enjoyment of it, like reading a good book you can't put down.  When I can hardly wait to get back to a piece, and can hardly stand to put it down, I know I've got a good thing.

And the happy ending is the finished product.