Some projects take more time than others. Twenty-seven springs ago, when I knew we were moving into this house, I bought an old, cedar lined, wardrobe trunk, to use as multipurpose furniture. “It can be a coffee table or a lamp table” I caroled to my overwhelmed husband. “While it stores extra blankets and quilts.” “What we need is more floor space,” he replied, eyeing the battle-scarred box, “and we’re not going to get it with that ugly thing.” “Just you wait, once I paint it, this thing will be beautiful,” I said. And, because I was in a hurry, I poured a quart of ivory paint over the entire trunk and hauled it into the house. It didn’t look good or hold the out-of-season linens like I planned, but it served as table and storage container for decades, first in the living room and then on the porch. With the construction of Darling Husband’s garage, the cedar trunk was emptied of its cache of tools and finally ready for the restoration I promised it years ago. Trunk after years on the porch. This should be an easy cleanup, right? That process has taken the best part of a week…
Ever been slapped upside the head by a forgotten Memory? I’m not talking about the memories with short-cut, easy-access triggers. Those are the ones you use from every day, stuff like your computer password, social security number and how to drive a car. Other recollections get misfiled in dusty cranial drawers so when you need the information, you walk around feeling stupid for five minutes, saying, “I know (fill in the blank) like I know my own name, what is it?” I’m talking about the memories that pop up out of nowhere and surprise the heck out of you. That happened to me today. You could say it was a random accident or because Father’s Day is coming up soon. Personally, I think the culprit is cake. See, dense sugar/carb sweets are like cocaine to me and I’ve been trying to live without them for the last 14 months or so. I’ve been doing pretty well with that too, not even missing the pastries I couldn’t live without before. At least until a couple of things that happened lately…. See some friends did us a wonderful favor. I mean HUGE. And nothing says “Thank You” to a friend like bringing them…
The Swans He called them his swans.[amazon_link asins=’0345528700′ template=’ProductCarousel’ store=’theboothafoly-20′ marketplace=’US’ link_id=’6556e6eb-9f64-11e8-87e2-89d16724f4b1′] It’s the story literary freaks, pop culture geeks and gossip mavens all know. The story of a covey of fascinating young women who were known for being beautiful; graceful as swans. Beauty made them famous and envied and rich but it didn’t make them happy, Instead, Beauty made them insecure and lonely. They wanted friends who’d value them instead of their looks or the powerful men they had married. Then one day, this flock of sad, lovely, women befriended an unusual man, An odd, little man, who liked but didn’t lust after them. A clever talker of a man who cheered them up with the juicy gossip, whenever they were blue. The strange storyteller listened to each woman when she talked. and told each woman he adored her. And, because he was gay and understanding and fun, the women showered him with gifts and friendship. They even shared their deepest secrets with him. Secrets he wrote down. The Story This is the setup for The Swans of Fifth Avenue, the story of a fascinating literary scandal. It stars some of the original American taste-makers of the mid-20th century like Babe Paley, and Slim…
Summer is here in all but fact, the season when most people take vacations. If you grew up in the United States, the odds are that your vacation history includes one or more of our National Parks. That’s great! The National Park system is a great idea: beautiful spaces owned by and open to the public. The only problem, for the addicted reader, is you can’t look at the natural beauty while you’re reading a book. I mean, as much as I adore the outdoors, I start jonesing for a good story to read, even when I’m face to face with the Grand Canyon or El Capitan. Of course, the second my face turns to the book, I feel guilty about ignoring Nature. I can’t enjoy both together. At least I thought so until my friend, Edna, introduced me to the Anna Pigeon mystery series by Nevada Barr. Why are those books the solution? Because Anna Pigeon is a Park Ranger and each of her adventures occurs in a National Park. Let’s start out with the first book in the series, the award-winning Track of the Cat. It’s set in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park, a spot my folks dragged me…