a Christmas soup party...

This is going to be a picture heavy rather than word heavy post. Things are crazy around here and about to get crazier. That's okay though because it means that all the people I love are coming home.

This was inspired by my parents’ wool blanket. They got it the first Christmas after they were married. It was part of my childhood and I have always loved it. I borrowed it for this because I just wanted to get my hands on it again. It still makes me happy to see all that lovely red and green plaid.

Full disclaimer: This soup party did happen but not like this. It ended up being for a birthday so I didn’t make it have such a Christmassy feel. I would have worried about spilling soup on the blanket although it has been through much worse. At the actual soup party, in addition to the tomato soup and posole, we also had albondigas and turkey noodle. We happily ate soup leftovers for a week. We also had rosemary and rustic breads. Birthday cake, of course, for dessert.

Soup tureen and mugs are from years ago. I wish I could find the potter again.




My niece was fascinated with the candles which for the birthday did not include jingle bells. They are so easy – mason jars, Epson salt, tea lights and a bit of twine.




Still too warm but it is fun having a soup party outdoors. As it got dark, the chiminea kept us warm.

Have I mentioned how much I love this blanket?

Please join Susan and the other tablescapers at Between Naps on the Porch.

a fond memory of the 4th...

Like most everyone, I have fond memories of many 4ths. There were the barbeques, the sparklers (not allowed here but were in Indiana where I spend a couple of years as a child) and the many firework displays. I am sure our kids remember the year that a snake decided to join our barbeque. WB nonchalantly picked it up with the tongs and threw it over the wall and shouted, "Supersnake!" (No snakes were harmed.) We had the year that a tremendous thunderstorm threatened to ruin the fireworks display. It cleared just in time. Along with their grandparents, the four of us watched, lying on the wet grass with our eyes to the sky.

My favorite memory is that of the year I was fifteen. For some reason, my dad decided this would be a good day to teach me to drive. We set out in his huge Oldsmobile convertible and took to the streets. Today, I would be so uncomfortable driving a car of that size but at the time, it didn't seem so big. I was just happy to be behind the wheel. For the most part, the streets were deserted. I am sure people were enjoying their barbeques. We wandered up and down the curvy streets of the foothills. My dad was a calm teacher. (I am sorry to say when it was my turn to teach my children, I left the lessons to WB.) I wasn't nervous or scared. I felt confident steering that big yellow car in and out of the neighborhoods. There is no exciting story to tell of this day. I don't remember what we talked about. There were no accidents or defining moments. There was no profound lesson learned (except of course, I COULD DRIVE!). It was just one of those quiet, perfect times with my dad. No matter how many years had passed since that day, we would always talk on the 4th about the year he taught me to drive. I miss him...

1 second, f/14, ISO100, 70mm, tripod

thank you, Mom...

In honor of Mother's Day on Sunday, I would like to take a moment to talk about one of the many gifts from my mother. Unfortunately, I did not inherit her nose but I did inherit her love of reading. She and my dad were both readers, passing that down to all three of their children. All her grandchildren are readers too.

My childhood was filled with fairy tales, Louisa May Alcott, Nancy Drew and any good story I could get my hands on. When I was eleven years old, I felt that I had read every book in the children's section of our small local library. My mother was the one who got me special permission to check out books from the entire library. It was a new world to me. I discovered Victoria Holt, Leon Uris, Irving Stone and John Steinbeck.

When I was in 8th grade, there was a bookfair at school. My mother had given me money to buy a book. I decided the best way to go was to buy the biggest book available, thus getting the most for my money. That book turned out to be "Hawaii" by James Michener. I read and reread that book so many times. It was a paperback version that fell apart many years ago but I am so grateful that my skewed logic lead me to one of my favorite authors.

Mom and I still share our love of reading with each other. She arranged for us to hear Nancy E. Turner and Kristie Miller speak about the process of writing and their books. We swap books back and forth. We both make good use of the library.

"I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves." Anna Quindlen

Thank you, Mom.

1/200, f/3.5, ISO3200, 50mm