A Soda Shop Adventure

While the sister and I were busy moving daughters into college and enjoying the Macon local color, the Duchess was home playing with dishes.  This week's tablescape is the fruit of her labor.  It's a vintage inspired ice cream party.

She took us on location to a spot of local color in our own hometown.  This old Soda Shop was a local landmark in the first half of the 1900's. The sign has been grandfathered in to the main street design code because it's home to the  Soda Shop Art Gallery.

The Duchess is passionate about this art gallery.

It's a project of the local Downtown Development and allows local artists to showcase their talents. The building and furnishings were donated, and it's staffed by volunteers. The Duchess coordinates all volunteers.

That's why we get to use the place to play with dishes.

The vintage ice cream churn below is a family piece from the 1930's. It usually resides in her kitchen and sits on top of her refrigerator. Basically, her entire kitchen is decorated with vintage utensils from her mother and grandmothers.

Some day, I'll yak more about them. 

The ice cream scoop is on loan.

It belongs to the family who owned the Soda Shop.

The ice cream dishes aren't family pieces.

They were purchased on separate antiquing adventures,

 one style for sundaes

 and the other for

 ice cream sodas. 

We set the table for both.

Until the invisible people placed their orders...

She used a vintage tablecloth from the trunk that I yakked about last week

 and had a little fun with crafting napkin rings.

Even the ice cream treats were per the Duchess's design.

We just followed orders.

I guess that makes us the Soda Jerks...

Why, Look!

The invisible people cleaned their dishes.

Good thing this is all  just pretend,

and we're dealing with invisible calories...

Well, of course!

****

Linking to Susan at Between Naps on the Porch.

Soaking Up Local Color

We took a break in the middle of our college moving on Friday to grab a little lunch. Now, we could have gone just about any place. Macon, Georgia is a fairly large city full of options. They have all the typical family restaurants, and the brass and ferns, and the fast food. Downtown, they have quaint delis and ethnic eateries.

We didn’t go to any of those places.

Nope.

Instead, we followed the suggestion of one in the bevy of friends.

When parents come to visit,

she opined,

they ought to soak up a little local color.

I hadn’t really given it much thought, but she’s right.  Anytime that I want, I can drive to a national chain or enjoy a downtown deli. Only in the Macon, Georgia area, can I eat at here.

Where the local color is red.

You see, there are frankfurters.

And there are hotdogs.

And then…
there are wieners.

That’s our friendly little color guide in this picture. I wonder if she knew that her hands instinctively rushed to her stomach upon receiving her order. The hands apparently recognize what the head does not…

The place is called Nu-Way Weiners

Since 1916, they have been serving all versions of the
red dogs 

and fountain drinks with their famous flaky ice.

I'm pretty sure that's just shaved ice,

but if they say it's flaky... then flaky it is.

Long a local favorite, Nu Way gained some national attention when Oprah made a famous visit for her Favorite Things episode filmed in Macon.

Now, the husband and I have always been somewhat crunchy granola. We like our food on the natural side, and there’s something just a tad unnatural about a red dog. We’re not all that fond of soft drinks, either. Our drink of choice is water. When we want to take a walk on the wild side, we make it seltzer water. We plunged right in, though, and soaked up that local color, fat grams, additives, and all.

Because, frankly, the friend is right,
 and life is short.

Even shorter after that meal...

So we laughed our way through lunch and enjoyed the local color. 

Of course, I whipped out the shiny red Kodak so I could yak all about it. I think I deserve some credit, though, for resisting the urge to title this  The Great Wiener Adventure.  I hope that the next time we visit, we can soak up some more local color. I just kind of hope that the next time, it's just a little bit more green.

So what about you? Do you like to soak up the local color? If I came to eat in your hometown, could you show me some?

The Great Senior Moving Day Adventure

I mentioned in my most recent post that I liked to be needed sometimes. Well, I’m pleased to report that, this weekend, as we moved The Practical One back onto campus, I was definitely needed.

Oh yes, I was needed.

Down the steps of the rented house.

Across the town.

Out of the car.

Down the hill.

Up the stairs.

And into the new room.

4,728 times.

I counted.

On Friday the 13th.

With a heat index of 296 degrees.

And a broken air conditioner.

(Residence Life gets an A+ for quick repair, though.)

All in all, it was a fun few days. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that my niece attends the same university and is the best friend in the world to The Practical One. They share a suite and, basically, a life.

 This makes it easy to ride tandem with my sister on all things collegiate. She and I spent an extra night in Macon to make sure that all was settled ...and do a wee bit of shopping the next day…

We sent Super Dad home looking a bit like a Clampett in a pick up overstuffed with the summer furniture.

It took a day and a half to complete the move in. I had planned to take the shiny red Kodak on an idea tour, but I was too needed to do much of that. I did snap just a few shots of things that I liked from the Senior Move-In Adventure.

I like…

The way they roll their t-shirts instead of layering them.

At Mercer (probably like most universities) they apparently give a t-shirt souvenir for every event, large or small. Rolling the shirts allows them to access the one that they want without toppling an entire pile. Like it.

I like...

Bed skirts.

Unfortunately, The Practical One doesn’t like them. She’s an outie like her dad. My niece, however, is an innie like me and likes her stuff secured out of sight. My sister made this great bed skirt for her.

The floral fabric separates two panels. This allows her to access under the bed storage without lifting the entire heavy skirt. It matches her valances.

I like…

This lightweight photo board.

It belongs to a friend who allowed the intrusion of a shiny red Kodak. She made it from lightweight corkboard panels covered in fabric. I wish that I had gotten a better picture. Like it.

 And that’s all I have.

I never even got a picture of the finished room.

It was entirely too hectic

 as we tried to navigate in the frenzy

 created by

one yakking blogger,

one silent super dad,

one organized sister,

   two excited daughters,

a bevy of chatty girlfriends,

and one helpful young man

apparently auditioning for the role of boyfriend
 to one of them.

Just another day in college paradise. And next week, I get to do it all over again.

Isn’t it great to be needed?

Simply Mom

I had a simple pleasure all ready to link up this week,

but something happened that changed my focus.

My daughter came home.

I realize that this might seem too ordinary even for a simple pleasures post,

 but in my world,  mothering

 is the simplest pleasure of all.

And I get fewer opportunities to do it these days.

The Practical One is a senior in college this year, and her visits are becoming less frequent along with my opportunities to be needed. This summer, she didn’t move home at all but stayed in Macon for an internship. She’s becoming more independent and building a life that, while it includes me, isn’t always needful of me. She tells me stories of schoolmates who still need their parents to fight their battles and hold their hands. She speaks of it sadly and tells me that she’s glad that we chose a different pattern.

I am told that I should be proud of that.

I am.

But there’s still a corner in my heart that wants to be needed sometimes.

This morning, I’ll get to make sure that everything in her closet has been given a good ironing. I'll get to fold up the sheets and bedding that I freshly washed and hung outside to give the "fresh air and sunshine" smell. I'll get to take her to the store to stock up on all the necessities for the next few months. I’ll get to ride with her to Macon to help clean the old house that she’s been renting for the summer, and tomorrow, I’ll get to help move her back on campus.

There’s not a single item on that list that she’s incapable of doing by herself. In fact, I had wondered whether she would need me at all this year. She didn’t. The thing is, she’s a decent enough kid to want me anyway.

Just come along for the ride, she said.

Dad can meet us in Macon later.

We’ll ride together.

We can talk.

We can shop.

And she can show me the historic Macon cemetery

where the Civil War soldiers are buried.
And look for the best place to catch the blue hour in the Macon skyline.

So I’m coming along  for the ride. The relationship has changed.  I have spent her lifetime capturing her moments. I have followed like the paparazzi snapping shots as she passed through phase after phase.  But this morning, I realized that she had entered a new phase, and like that rocking chair moment  that I yakked about months ago, it had come without warning.

I think I will like this new kind of mothering. I just kind of wish that someone had followed us around with a shiny red Kodak and captured the moment when my daughter became my friend.

Being a mom, in whatever capacity, is this week's simple pleasure.

*****

Sharing this with Dayle at A Collection of This and That. Please come join the party with me.

I've Got the Colonial Blues

It’s time for another Tablescaping Adventure.

And this time, we’re even using real dishes.

And it’s decoupage free.

I know… I’m as shocked as you are.

The inspiration for our table came from this cup and saucer.

It’s from the set of everyday stoneware

which I chose when I got married 26 years ago

during the 1980’s revival of colonial blue.

The pattern is Kilkee by Noritake.

It’s the set we most often use for our family meals.

It’s also The Practical Daughter’s favorite set of dishes.

I yakked all about that HERE.

This table is all about her,
and we wanted it to look like her.

There will be no whimsy.

Just simplicity.

We’re using only two colors, ivory and colonial blue.

And flowers, well of course.

*******

In keeping with the colonial theme,

we moved my grandmother's table in front of the fireplace.

The sister gathered ivory and ivy from her lawn,

 and we they  The Duchess arranged it in a
simple iron basket.

The blue candles usually live
in The Practical One’s room.

They came downstairs for the party.

The floral votive candles were compliments of the sister.

We floated them in a blossom napkin
for no good reason at all.

Now, usually, I use solids with this pattern,

but the Duchess suggested a little

vintage tablecloth exploration instead.

She has two antique trunks full of old family linens. 

My great-grandmother passed them to my grandmother,

who passed them to my mother,

who will pass them to my sisters and me.

(Just checking to see if  the sister is reading...)

Just about everything else on this table
 was a wedding or shower gift

all those years ago.

You might call this my “blue phase”.

The stemware is Aurora Blue by Denby.

I have enough of this stuff to serve the colonial army.

The flatware is, appropriately,
 American Colonial

 by Oneida.

The invisible people are having shrimp cocktail.

We included my Kilkee coffee service on the table too.

Just because I like it.

A colonial table... 

by candlelight

Pretty good, huh?

In full disclosure, I’ll be serving visible people this time.

The Practical One is home from her summer internship this week,

but she’s packing to head back to school over the weekend.

We have a window of opportunity to sit down and enjoy

the last family dinner

until my two girls return home for a first weekend.

A different kind of blue phase, I guess... 

Now, the visible people are not having shrimp cocktail.

And it’s way too hot in Georgia for a heavy dinner.

Instead, they will be enjoying fruit and a great grilled chicken salad

from Gnee at Singing with the Birds

Their table will look like this.

But for now, let’s gather around this colonial blue table

with the invisible people

and play a game of Let’s Pretend.

Thanks for playing along.

I'll be posting this with Susan at Between Naps on the Porch

for Tablescape Thursday

Monday Miracle

I'm here this morning to report a miracle.

It probably won't seem much like a miracle,

but if you knew me at all,

you would be rising to your feet and shouting

 Hallelujah!

Because yesterday, I ate sweet potatoes.

And what’s more, I kept them down.

For 48 years, I have been unable to get an orange vegetable beyond the tip of my tongue. (OK, technically, it’s been about 46 years. According to the Duchess, I loved them as a baby... along with olives. I can't figure that one out either. )

Somewhere between birth and elementary school, however, I developed an aversion to all orange vegetables. It was crystallized after an unfortunate lunchroom incident in the second grade.

You see, I went to school in a place and time…

...when lunch was served on glass plates with little glass bowls for side dishes.
...when you were expected to say, “Thank you” to the lunch lady before you were allowed to sit down.
…and when you were required to clean your plate.

Generally speaking, I was thankful for my lunch on every day except orange vegetable days. On those days, the Duchess packed my lunch.

In my Campus Queen lunch box
with the nifty board game on the back.

 This system worked for us until that fateful day in the second grade when the lunchroom lady made a last minute sweet potato substitution in the menu.

I was not thankful.

Instead, I tried to convince the table nazi that substitution taters ought to be exempt from the clean plate rule. She would hear nothing of it.

I tried to sneak the taters over to my best friend’s plate.
They caught me.

Finally, I tried to slide them down with a little swig of milk for camouflage. For the record, I wouldn’t recommend it. Apparently, lunchroom milk and sweet potatoes do not make for good swigging. The sweet potato milk had no more reached the back of my throat when up it came, bringing the rest of my lunch with it.

All over the lunchroom table.

I left school early that day, suffering from an acute attack of humiliation which the sympathetic school nurse dubbed a virus. To add insult to injury, the Duchess was not home so they sent me to my grandmother.

And since Grandma didn’t drive, I was transported by way of the creepy old school janitor.  My how times  have changed.

And that, my friends, remained at the top my "most humiliating moments" list until an unfortunate bikini top incident in my late teens. It is also the reason that I have had an orange vegetable phobia for four decades, and the reason that no one… ever… badgers me to try them when they are sharing my table.

This doesn’t keep the Duchess from serving sweet potatoes though. In particular, she makes a sweet potato casserole that looks and smells delicious. It’s full of all sorts of sweet potato camouflage too… sugar and butter and pecans.   Every time it passes beneath my nose, the smell of all that sugar and spice makes me want to try them. Periodically, I take a smidgeon and bring it to the tip of the tongue. But then I have a flashback and have to go to the sink and wash off my fork.

Until yesterday.

For whatever reason I was feeling adventurous yesterday. I dropped an amount about the size of a baby spoon onto my plate, took a deep breath, and tasted it.

Eureka! It tastes almost like pumpkin pie!

I feel a tremendous sense of victory over Goliath.

I am strong.

I am invincible.

I am  sweet potato woman.

Next, I'm going to try a carrot.

And just in case your mom doesn’t have a sweet potato recipe of her own,

I’ll share the one from the Duchess, which today, I have named:

Sweet Potato Miracle

2 cups mashed sweet potatoes

1/4 cup melted butter

2 eggs

1/2 evaporated milk

3/4 cup sugar (half brown, half white)

dash cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice

Mix all together and bake in greased casserole at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.

Spoon on the topping:

1/2 c. chopped pecans

1/2 light brown sugar

1/4 cup melted butter

Lower temp to 350 and bake for 15 more minutes.

And you, too, can finally return to the cool table.

Simply Colorful

Believe it or not,

I *almost* missed my simple pleasure this week.

 I was racing along those 30 country miles,

completely consumed in my thoughts...

clicking off the mental checklist...

worrying about the dinner I had yet to plan...

I was about a half mile or so from the entrance to our neighbhorhood

when I happened to glance over my left shoulder,

and I saw this.

Isn't that beautiful?

How in the world could I have *almost* missed it?

The husband would never have missed it.

Nope.

He would have been on the lookout for it.

Rainbows, you see, are his simple pleasure.

I have never seen anyone more delighted about a bunch of colors in the sky than that man.

He becomes like a little child.

The minute he sees a ray of sunshine breaking through the rain, he begins the hunt,

twisting his neck in all sorts of positions…

peering through the clouds for the burst of color that he's positive he'll see.

Generally, he's rewarded for his efforts, too.

I can't count the number of times that I have been busy about the house only to be beckoned with a sense of urgency to come out of doors. Years ago, it would alarm me. I would be certain that some show shopping, life altering occurance had taken place. My panic button is pretty much set on "automatic", after all.  

He will just  point to the sky.

Look!

Sometimes, he calls me from the road just to report a significant one. Once he phoned, almost speechless.
Believe it or not, he told me,  he had just driven through a rainbow. The colors had crept through his car window and literally crossed over his arms as he drove. It may seem unlikely, but I believed him.

If God were going to color any person with a rainbow, it would be that man.

So when I saw this perfect arch in the sky the other day, I knew that I had to stop the car, pull out the shiny red Kodak and try… somewhat unsuccessfully... to capture it for him.  Then, I realized that he was home, holed up in an office which looks out, not on the open sky, but on that  piney stick forest.  Very probably, he had no idea what was just though the trees.

So I called him.

And with great urgency, I said,

“Quick! Get outside and meet me in the driveway!” 

He didn't ask why.  He just did it. His panic button is set on "almost never".  I pulled into the neighbhorhood, and there he was, craning that neck like an owl and peering up through the trees.

 So I rolled down the window and yelled to him.

“If you’re looking for a rainbow, you’re going to have to hop in.”

He hopped. 

We sat beside the road for a while, just admiring it.

He dubbed it one of the prettiest ones he had ever seen.

Quite a compliment coming from such a rainbow aficionado.

Now, if you’re thinking that my simple pleasure this week is that rainbow,
 you would be wrong.

I like them, but rainbows are his simple pleasure,

not really mine.

My simple pleasure this week was
watching him
 enjoying his.

****

Sharing this with Dayle at A Collection of This and That

"L" is for Leaping

Have I mentioned that the Duchess has fifteen full sized Christmas trees?

Well, she does.

Each one has a different theme.

The sister has several lovely ones herself.

She's so much like Mom...

I, on the other hand, have one.

A few years ago, I casually mentioned to the husband that I might like a second one.

He shook his head and said,

 "It's a slippery slope, Deb-or-ah, a slippery slope..."

Now, there's a reason behind this ramble. This week we've been busily crafting Whimsy's dorm room. As I was heaping up all that coordinating pink and green and zebra print, I looked at her and said,  

"Wouldn't this make a beautiful tablescape?" 

She just shook her head and said,

 "It's a slippery slope, Mom, a slippery slope."

She listens entirely too much to her father.

So in an effort to avoid the clumsy slide down that slippery slope...

I just grabbed the sister

and the Duchess

And we took a flying leap off

Tablescape Mountain instead.

Because it's fun.

There we gooooo...

OK... that's not us.

We couldn't get that high off the ground if we sat on a taser.

Our tablescape is themed after her room.

All linens are merely sewing scraps from her fabrics.

We started with a black base and used some zebra for a runner.

The recently crafted waste basket  filled with the last myrtles of summer

works as the centerpiece.

Those decoupaged coasters hold some simple stemware.

In a dorm room, it's all about the pictures and the monograms.

That was the inspiration for the placecards.

Following a little Southern Inspiration,

We threaded wall plates from Willow House

 with fabric from an accent pillow.

The dessert plates are from a set which belonged

to the Duchess's great-grandmother.

Postcards from the edge...

The requisite college candy dish...

And a message board to remember the important stuff...

I consider it a great excercise in restraint that I didn't

decoupage a pizza box for a charger.

I think I found my empty nesting hobby...

Setting the table for invisible people

Great fun!

Joining the party for