September 10, 1950

Vintage Formica table, resurfaced chairs, Fiestaware
Serving tray, gift from M &D, Pyrex Casserole Dish. 

Where does the time go?  Last night I sat down for dinner with only one other member of our household.  I grabbed a cookbook to peruse while we ate.  Silver Spoon jumped out at me, and while I picked it up, fondled it, and opened it to the page I had last marked, I wondered…"Didn't I buy this book, say, a while ago, and didn't I make/read almost nothing from within it's pages?".  Well, yeah.
And I wondered, when, exactly I bought it, and why I had done nothing with it (kitchen remodel notwithstanding).  And, yup, sure 'nuff, there it was within the archives of Instagram, no less.  I posted a photo of said book (along with a few others) forty-six weeks ago.  I bought this book forty-six weeks ago, and here I am, not reading it for the first time, but let's face it…the pages are still spit-clean.
So, who cares?  Am I just like every other dilettante kitchener, claiming some foodie lifestyle but actually winging it on Trader Joe's and restaurants? Maybe so, but, LF, you also know that we lost Mom in January and everything else unravelled from that place.  So, although I, too, buy too many cookbooks and cook not enough, this year I'll give myself a pass.  In fact, so much so that I wasn't mad at myself when I saw the book last night, but I felt like I had just pulled myself that much more out of the fog that is much of 2014.  We made it through a summer of no training, we quit a job that was leaving me emotionally and physically drained, we said goodbye to Mom and her home lovingly and without turning many stones, and so, now, only three days after Madison Ironman, I can envision an even more exciting, invigorating life (cooking, crafts, friends, fun).

Dinig table, chairs, Bamboo china set. GO!

And then, there's this.  Today, September 10, 2014, would have been my parents' sixty-fourth anniversary.  Here I am, in my pristine Oak Park Bungalow.  Not an antique, not a paint chip, is out of place.  Our living space is just about perfectly staged and so many objects connect me to Mom and Dad.  It was the two of them who hunted down our kitchen table and sent it to California, in 1994 or so.  It was Dad, himself, who suggested that Fiesta Ware (California Pottery, as he called it), would be a worth collecting, given my "interests".




It was Mom's keen sight on Heywood Wakefield furniture so that her own dining room set would be mine, finally, after a lifetime of waiting.

 And so, for a brief moment I pull out Mom and Dad's wedding book.  I love just about everything about it.  I love the white leather binding, I adore the pictures that I saw for many many years in my parents home.   I love that it hearkens to a day when someone would host a wedding that entailed a reception of cake, punch, in a church activity room, then a change to day clothes and escape amidst torrent of rice and laughter.

Many thoughts crossed my mind today, about losing Mom and how 2014 has been defined by that piece of our world.  And of course, that Dad, we lost, only two years ago, and so the both of them parted within this now, seemingly short amount of time.




































But as I sat at my Amazing kitchen table yesterday with a dear friend, who is embarking on new love himself, we discussed the notes that Mom and Dad had left on an indoor/outdoor thermometer, purchased at Radio Shack (where else?). On one page, we noted the purchase date, and my friend asked who's handwriting it was (Mom's, and a battery replacement).  I flipped through the pages and commented that Dad's writing was also in the booklet, noting installation date.  We chuckled, and I was touched by that very memory, the memory that is eternal of one's own handwriting mark, but friend added, that it was a positive, that my parents shared such a thing.  He asked, did they agree on the importance of keeping such records?  I replied, yes, it was in both of their natures, although my mother mastered total organization more than my father, that they keep meticulous care and records.

 He smiled, and so did I.  For a moment, I was able to honor a partnership that didn't always look perfect, but one that was in synch in so many ways, for so many years.  I miss them both.  I miss them each in their own way.  My father's passing was a relief for us all but a gushing hurt.  Mom's passing has crushed me to a little bit.  I still can't imagine that she's gone.  I feel even more guilt when I think of the people who lose loved ones at untimely times and here I lost both parents after a long, luxurious retirement.  Nonetheless, that's the way it goes.  So, we reflect back to the sixtieth anniversary when we gathered at the Elks Club and cut a cake and enjoyed friends and family.  Loving both Mom and Dad, KSN...

Hot? Yes. Humid? Yes. Summer in Chicagoland? Yes.

The motherlode.

OK, it's official. Summer has arrived in Chicagoland.  Yesterday it was 103 farenheit, with a rainstorm in the works, heat index 107. Can you say "air conditioning?"  Me and my favorite girls grabbed the opportunity to return that Ashby birthday dress and head out to the land of air conditioning, itself: the suburban mall.  Oakbrook here we come!!!!  I figured the place would be crawling with people trying to escape the heat, they sure as heck weren't out there frolicking in the sunshine, but quiet as it's kept, I guess everybody has their own air conditioning, or their workplace is sufficiently chilled.   Anyhow, going to the mall is a major affair in the Steward-Nolan family.  We've been pondering our lists of wants and needs for about two months, while we save up the energy necessary to penetrate the land of the shopping.  As we pulled up to the exterior of Macy's, Ashby said that the store needs a new coat of paint. "Oh, if you only knew, poor thing."  Addie, ever the wizened older sib, explained: "Don't you remember how much paint it took just to paint my room? Well, look at how huge this building is!" Oh, how I love these kids....but of course.
 We managed to find entertainment in the escalator, the frigid temps, shopping for swimsuits and underclothes and shorts, all on the beneath-ground floor.  As we neared the basement Starbucks (yes, how could we resist the caffeinated/sugared joy of this day?) I exclaimed: "this is just like Battlestar Galactica.  While the rest of the world crumbles from the heat, we're here in this false window-less environment, wasting away."  Addie asked for a frappucino and I wondered, you've never had one of those, "oh, yes I have, with Dad, and so and so, and so forth".  Innocence lost.  What can I say?  If only I had known how many lost battles, thirteen years ago, maybe I wouldn't have fought so hard in the first place.  But then again, the fight is sometimes just for the sake of the fight.

Yes, you're a terrible mother...not only do you buy this crap, you tell us how awful it is.  boo!

 Caffeinated, dear reader, I made it up three flights of escalator to seek out the one thing that Macy's carries in abundance that I crave...Fiestaware!!!! What I really love about shopping for Fiestaware, is that for now, the kids are as easily delighted by the whimsy and pure beauty that Homer Laughlin has always and will eternally provide.  We made a few choices and got ready to pay up for a special, special treat.

White! Peacock!Flamingo!Shamrock! Made in West Virginia! Homer Laughlin!!!

 As I was leaving the store, I felt proud for shunning the piles and piles of personal adornment that Macy's sells, in favor of something that is timeless in my own home, and helps create beauty whenever we eat and share food.  Richly symbolic.  As for the kids, who doesn't need a swimsuit that makes them look like a bumble bee or underwear or shorts? I'm satisfied and OK with the whole experience.

I lied down on the burning cement, trying to get kids and sign in shot.

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Watch out for that train! sky! Rock! Refuse! It's Cook County, for cryin' out loud!

And then today, this photo taken only minutes before the sky opened up and rain poured, thunder and lightning.  I was walking with a friend through the forest preserve and we stumbled upon this railroad track.  We figured we'd cross the thing, which we did, but as we were searching around for a drop from the cement wall, we saw an older gentleman with walking sticks who insisted we better get away from all that metal, storm was on it's way...a little excitement for a morning walk! 

   Cooled and refreshed, we made our way to the new Juice Bar in River Forest.  Who knew? The Juice Joint provides some serious  juices and smoothies, and they're just getting started.  We tried the Addicted to Love, and the We've got the Beet. Hearty and organic, just my style.