TWO HOLIDAYS, TOO CLOSE TOGETHER

I'm a bit befuddled by the closeness of St. Patrick's Day and Easter this year. St. Patrick's Day is staying where it should be, but Easter is extra-early this year. I read that the 22nd of March is the earliest possible day for Easter to be celebrated. It will be 280 something years before that will happen again. Easter is the 23rd this year. That's just too darn early. I have my fingers crossed that it won't be a cold, windy day. You never know about March. April is a much better month for Easter. For one thing, there is no green grass to be seen here in Eureka Springs. How in the world will the Chamber of Commerce hold their annual Easter Egg Hunt? The forsythias are lagging behind this year too. I've seen scraggly blooms here and there around town, but usually they are showing in glorious profusion by St. Patrick's Day. Not so this year.



Don and I thought we'd have a hum-drum Easter this year, but our spirits perked up when I received an e-mail from Jason this morning. He and Erin will drive up from Memphis to spend the weekend with us. Yippee! Now, I have planning to do. We will cook out on the grill Easter Sunday. I will probably make the Easter Bunny cake like my grandmother Baldridge always did. The last time I made one was in 2006. (See photo below.) I might even throw some Easter baskets together with the usual junk candy....jelly beans, chocolate eggs, Peeps, etc. I haven't done that in a long time, and the sugar won't kill us if we only eat it for a few days.

I bought Easter bunny ears at Wal-Mart to take a silly photo to e-mail to all our family and friends. I'll add it to this blog when I get that done. We'll look goofy, but so what? We're old; we can act as goofy as we like.


I think I can probably talk Jason and Erin into dyeing eggs Saturday night if they're not too tired from the drive. If they are, that's fine. I can do it alone. I'm looking for some sort of special way to dye them; something different from the usual food color dyes, but if I can't find anything, the old-fashioned way will do. At least it's traditional.



Speaking of Easter egg hunts: I miss not having any little ones around for that. When we move to Memphis, there are 4 darling little children that I think will allow me to join in their festivities. I'm looking forward to that.


I remember Easters of long ago. We always had to have a new Easter outfit. It would have been embarrassing, almost scandalous, not to have new clothes to wear to church. That new outfit included gloves and a hat. No decent woman attended church without both. Lots of women wore corsages for Easter. Do women still wear corsages to church? We always bought them for our mothers and grandmothers on Easter and Mother's Day.



St. Patrick's Day has always been a favorite holiday of mine. Maybe it's because green is one of my three favorite colors. Green is a good color to see as Winter drags its old depressing self off the calendar. Shamrocks, leprechauns, lilting brogues......I like them all. It's almost here again. Don't forget to wear something green tomorrow, or you'll get pinched. If you want to get pinched, forget what I said.



Happy St. Patrick's Day and have a wonderful Easter!

THINK YELLOW!

We are more than a week into March, and the month is living up to its capricious, fickle reputation. One day is spring-like, the next is like winter. We are beginning to experience more days --- more often --- that smell like spring. Green things are appearing ---though not quickly enough for my liking --- amongst the grays and browns in the landscape. Yesterday was a perfectly gorgeous day! It wasn't forecast to be, but the fact that it was made it even more enjoyable. Winter returned overnight, but the memory of yesterday, and the joy it brought, lingers.

Today on our way to lunch at the restaurant at the Best Western Inn of the Ozarks, I felt color-blind. Yes, there was greenery here and there, but, for the most part, my eyes were assaulted by dullness...... grays and browns in the vegetation and a steel-gray sky. No sunshine today. No golden glow. Just blahness.

As we neared the corner by the post office, my eyes were drawn to a piece of earth next to the parking lot at Pine and Spring Sts. Color! And not just any color! Yellow! The brightest, sunniest color of all! Until I spotted it, I felt as though I was living in one of those black and white TV commercials that are monochromatic except for one bright spot of color used to draw attetention to a certain feature. They do the same thing in magazine ads where, say, in a black and white photo, one's eyes are drawn to a single red rose.

This morning my color-starved eyes were drawn to a spot of yellow and feasted on a clump of jonquils! They weren't there yesterday. Today, just when I've almost reached the end of my rope as far as believing that I will live to see another spring, there were cheery flowers to reinforce my will to live. Hold on a while longer. Spring is coming! If there's one thing we need in March, it's yellow flowers. Jaunty daffodils refresh the soul. Even if it snows tonight, they will soldier on and be there tomorrow to encourage me.

I don't think it is an accident that yellow is the first color to make an appearance in early spring. Have you noticed that? That flowers tend to bloom by color scheme. First yellows, then pinks, then purples, then whites. There is some overlapping, of course, because flowers can be renegades, and some rebel flowers appear when are doggone ready to, but for the most part, there is a pattern. That is not an accident.

What color is cheerier.....happier.... than yellow? None, and that's why forsythias and jonquils are the first to bloom at the end of winter when we need them the most. Yes, the jonquils are up and beginning to bloom. Buds are forming on the forsythia bushes at this moment. Every warm day that pops in to give them encouragement assures them that Spring is coming.

Jonquils are growing in my yard. The green is showing, but I don't see the buds yet. They're working on it though. Nature's mood lifters are on the way and will soon be here to bring a smile to my face as I walk back and forth to the car. What a relief to know that yellow is back and not a minute too soon! Bring it on!

VALENTINE'S DAY MEMORIES

I have a friend from my elementary school days, and he and I have been reminiscing about Valentine's Day parties. About a week before the big day -- in art class -- we would create beautiful card receptacles from construction paper, brown paper bags, paste, glitter and poster paints. They were works of art. Masterpieces. My friend found some of his sacks, still full of valentines, in his mother's attic. What memories! Some of the people who signed his cards are no longer alive. It's been 52 years! How can that be?

I was a take-charge sort of a little girl and, as far as valentines went, I did it all. I walked to the TG&Y store, or the ten-cent store, as we called it, on Getwell Road and purchased my valentines. I always bought one of those big variety packs and a special card for my teacher and one for the "cute boy du jour" that I had a crush on. I was very fickle in those days, and the object of my affection changed weekly, so the boy for whom I picked out the card might not be the one who got it.

In preparation for the card giving, our teachers wrote the names of the members of her class on the blackboard. We copied them all down in our tablets or three-ring notebooks. This would be our master list from which we addressed our cards. We were strongly encouraged by our teacher to be sure to give everyone on the list a card, even if we hated their guts. A kid who got no valentines could be scarred for life, and Heaven knows, I didn't want that on my conscience, so everyone received a card from me, and I certainly appreciated the favor. Popularity could hinge on something as flimsy as how many valentines a person received.

So, the Valentine's Day sack was made, and the teacher had hung it up on the wall with all the others. I had the valentines in my hot little hands. I had the master names list. Time to go to work. I can see myself now. I'm sitting at the dinner table. A stack of valentines and envelopes are on the table in front of me. To the left of them is the master list. To the right is a stack of pretty Valentine's Day stickers and three or four freshly sharpened pencils. Addressing valentines was not a job for an ink pen. If you made a mistake, there was no rectifying it. No bottles of "White Out" in those days, and even if there had been, would you have wanted to receive a shabby Valentine with white, gunky smears all over it? No, there was nothing to do for it except to toss the screwed-up valentine in the trash can. It just killed me to waste my hard-earned dollar a week allowance on messed up valentines, so I was very careful. I addressed them with a #2 pencil with a quality eraser.

Ok, so I would look at the first name on my master list, then thumb through my stack for the perfect valentine for that person. This was no haphazard undertaking. I tried to match the valentine to the person. If that person liked kitties, they got a valentine with a cat on it. A lot of thought went into the whole process. Then I signed my name, addressed the envelope, slipped the valentine inside and sealed it with a Valentine's Day sticker. Even then, I'm proud to say that I went the extra mile. After I finished, I carefully put them in a sack and placed them right next to my book satchel so I wouldn't forget them. The next day, it was so much fun to drop them in the prettily-decorated bags. The party would be held the last hour of the school day, and waiting for that time to come was as bad as trying to get to sleep on Christmas Eve. The anticipation was almost unbearble.

I will never forget the Valentine's Day party when I was in the 6th grade at Sherwood Elementary School. That was the year that I, little June Baldridge, reached the height of my social life. It had never been better before that day, and it has never been better since. The triumph! The joy! The exhilaration! I received THREE --count them -- small heart-shaped boxes of chocolate candy! Let me tell you, it doesn't get any better than that in life. Since then, there have been beautiful bouquets of red roses, gorgeous Valentines from my sweetheart, and much bigger boxes of Russell Stover's candy, but that Valentine's Day will live in my memory until the day I die. Thank you, Sam Griffin, Joe Griffith and Mike Newsom....wherever you are .... and Happy Valentine's Day!

Don and me....Valentines since 1969

BOLOGNA CUPS

As our family and friends gathered here in Eureka Springs two weeks ago, the conversation turned, as it often does when families reminisce, to the comfort food of childhood. One of my children's favorites was, and is, Bologna Cups. Doesn't sound very appetizing? Maybe that's because it's a Memphis Thing. I think that's why my sons' ladies fail to appreciate the appeal of that tasty dish. They are from barbaric areas of our fine country.....California, Virginia, and Texas..... and just don't see it. Most born-and-bred Memphians love Bologna cups, having been introduced to them at a very young age by the school system.

I remember well the first time I ate a Bologna Cup. It was in the cafeteria of Rozelle Elementary School which I attended from the first grade through the first half of the fourth. I had never tasted anything so delicious in my life! What a fantastic idea! I loved Bologna, and I loved mashed potatoes. Here were my two favorites combined! It just didn't get any better than that.

Bologna, or baloney, as it's pronounced in good Southern homes, was a staple at our house, as was ground beef and canned meats such as Vienna Sausages, corned beef, and potted meat. These "meats" grew to favor during the Great Depression because they were dirt cheap. My parents' families were poor before the Depression, and during and after, they sure didn't have the money for steaks. When my parents married, they carried on the fine tradition of serving up cheap meats in cans and frying ground beef in all sorts of ways in pure lard. Yum. Yum. Bacon grease was saved to season vegetables. In those days, I'm surprised that anybody's heart was able to pump blood through blocked arteries longer than 40 years, but, I'm telling you, the food was delicious!

But to get back to the Bologna Cups.... every time the subject comes up, our children rhapsodize about them, but the family members, who don't actually have our blood coursing through their veins, sniff with disgust and roll their eyes. Bologna Cups! Whoever heard of such a thing? That sounds disgusting!

Our children love them, and our boys would like for their ladies to dish them up occasionally. Well, I don't think Jason expects Erin to cook them because she's a vegetarian, and he is sensitive to her feelings about that. Tom, along with Robin, does eat vegetarian most of the time, but he still appreciates a good Bologna Cup every now and then. He's had to master the delicate technique and learn to cook them himself. Keith's wife, Brandi, doesn't understand all the excitement about them. I think she has prepared them a time or two, but she'd really rather not, and she'd rather take a beating than to eat one.

If you don't know exactly how to prepare Bologna Cups, but your mouth is simply watering at the prospect of eating them, here's what you do:

First, you make a big pot of mashed potatoes. I use an entire 5-lb bag for this because I want to make enough Bologna Cups to last for a while When the potatoes are boiled and mashed, you grab a package or two of all-beef Bologna. Heat up a skillet.... an electric skillet is best because you can cook more pieces at a time and start gobbling them up sooner. Drop the Bologna in the skillet and stand back and gaze in wonder as it curls up into cute little bowls. Is that not the neatest thing you've ever seen? Some sort of mysterious scientific principle is involved here, but I can't explain it. Suffice it to say, that it's miraculous! After a minute or so, flip the Bologna over and let the little bowls curl up the other way. It's really fun to watch them, but try to contain yourself and only do it twice. You don't want to scorch your Bologna.

Now, here's the trick: Quickly, before the Bologna loses its shape, start slapping big spoonsful of mashed potatoes in the bowls. Use your own good judgment as to how much to pile on each one. When each Bologna bowl has taters, it's time for the final touch: Kraft's American Cheese slices. Place one-half slice on each Bologna Cup. Then, place the cover of the electric skillet over the skillet for a few minutes so the cheese will melt. Ah..... a Southern gourmet meal. Voila! Bologna Cups! That's some mighty fine eating!

Other family culinary delights are salmon croquettes, made sort of the way Mama made them... although I changed the recipe slightly.... and boiled peanuts. We are still in the process of convincing the ladies that those dishes are delicacies. We've tried for years, but they just don't get it. We can only pity them. They just don't know what they're missing.

GROUND HOG DAY

This morning I jumped out of bed and rushed to my computer to see if Punxsatawney Phil saw his shadow this morning. Yes, he did. Bummer! Six more weeks of winter. The more I think about it, though, that's not such a long time. It seems like the days fly by for me even in the winter. We should start seeing more days in the 50's and low 60's now. I was cheered enormously when I looked out the window this evening, and it was still light at 5:40! That's quite an improvement from the darkness I saw through the window at 5:15 in December. We still have capricious March to get through. Jonquils will be blooming, but it could snow at any time. Actually, March, here in Eureka Springs, was beautiful last year. Then came a killing frost in April that zapped my beautiful wisteria and lots of other early-blooming spring flowers. You just never know.

I was disappointed that AOL had not posted the Punxsatawney Phil prediction on my Welcome Screen. It was nowhere to be found. I had to do a search for the official Phil site to find out what went down this morning. Honestly, I think the Ground Hog story is every bit as important as the craziness in Britney Spears' life. I wish I had a dollar for every morning that I've signed on the computer to have her face or crotch staring back at me. Shame on you, AOL!

This is my favorite photo from last week's family/friend gathering: It's a family portrait. Left to right, standing: Tom, me, Don and left to right, sitting: Jason and Debbie

It's been so quiet around here tonight. So different from last Saturday night when everyone came back to the house after Jason and Emil's performance at The New Delhi Cafe. I'm bored. Don should be home from work any minute. Then I'll have some good company.

SNOW DAY!

Gosh, it seems like forever since I've posted a blog. I have a good reason. The gathering of the clan and friends last week took all my attention and energy. I would love to write about the occasion, but it would take three or four blogs to do it, so all I'm going to say about it is that I had one of the best times of my life while it was going on. I love everyone who was here, and I hope we can do it again. Seeing everybody in the dead of winter was a wonderful diversion for me. It was good for my soul and my mental well-being. I get the winter blues so bad. By now, I've usually had to pop a Xanax or two to make myself chipper again. I'm in great spirits this year, and it's all because I had that wonderful gathering to plan for and look forward to. Now I'm turning my thoughts toward another gathering in Memphis, TN in April.

We got a good snow early this morning. There were five inches on the ground by the time we got up around 9 A.M. The whole world was pure and white. Not a footprint was in the yard. Not even bird scratchings. The raccoons must have stayed burrowed in last night because there was no trace of them. We got a light, fine snow off and on all day long. Another inch was forecast for tonight. A lot of it will melt away tomorrow because the temperature will be above freezing and we will have "abundant sunshine." That's what the weather forecast says.

Usually, I don't want to see snow. It makes my feelings of cabin fever worse. I feel even more closed in......trapped, really. It's been a long time since I've wanted to go out and play in the snow. This year is different because I bought a pair of really cute all-weather/snow boots. I was hoping for one good snow so I could stomp around in them. I love these boots! They are fur-lined and very stylish, I think, or as stylish as rubber boots can be. Anyway, I wore them outside today while photographing the snow. A snow on January 31st, 2008! We also had a snow last January 31st! Do I see a pattern here? The boots were everything I dreamed they would be. Easy to slip on, very comfortable and warm. Ok.....been there; done that. No more snows this year, thank you very much. I've worn my boots. Now, I'm ready for spring.

LIVING LIFE IN THE FAST LANE

First, a report on my physical shape. I'm still plodding along with the health plan. I haven't done any damage to it, but I haven't been doing as much as I should, or could, to speed things up either. We've skipped the walk at the track for most of the past week because we've been up so late doing genealogy research. We've been bed slugs in the mornings, and I'm not proud of it. I really feel bad about that. Not bad enough to go to the track tomorrow morning, but bad, still. We'll get back in the groove Monday. I've promised myself that I will.

For the last few days I've been flipping through old magazines to see if there are any articles or pictures that I want to keep before tossing them. I came across something interesting in an AARP Magazine that I want to share with you. The title of the article is "Fast-track Flirting."

It seems that we are all too busy to court or woo a member of the opposite sex these days. We're in such a big hurry that we just can't take the time to slowly get to know one another. We have people to see and things to do. The days of leisurely wine and dine dates are over. To help us out, a new method of getting to know one another is sweeping the nation. It's called "Speed Dating."

This new form of dating started with professional people in their 20's and 30's. The idea has caught on with senior citizens too, and rightly so, since we have a heck of a lot less time than those young folks do to get it on with someone. We never know when we might drop dead of a heart attack because of seeing ourselves naked in a full-length mirror. But is speed-dating a good idea for people who are slowing down in all other aspects of their lives? We move slower. We think slower. Shouldn't we date slower too?

Here's what happens at a speed dating event: You sign up, and then you sit down at a table with one person and talk to them for three minutes, or so, to see if he or she appeals to you, or as we used to say in my dating days, rattles your cage. After your minutes are up, you boogie on down to another table ( running full-speed, I suppose, since you're short on time and have things to do, remember?), and talk to another possible datee for a few minutes. You just keep popping up every few minutes when the bell rings, or you're told to switch tables. I guess it's decided ahead of time who will pop up, and who will remain seated. It sure wouldn't do for you both to jump up and run to another table. You might keep meeting the same person all night. I guess you could say, in that case, it means Fate threw you together, if you wanted to make the best of it.

The comments of one 73-year old speed dater, Gerry, cracks me up. He said that, with such a short time available, he gets right to the point and asks, " What medications are you on, and how many times have you been married?"

Of all the nerve! I think I'd have to tell ol' Gerry that I have a question for him too: "How many seconds would it take you to get away from my table? We've only been talking for one minute, but I can tell already that I don't like you. Go!"

I would think you'd have to pose your questions very delicately so you wouldn't come off as too nosy or too materialistic. For example, you'd want to start out asking benign, sappy questions like "What makes you happy?" or "What do you do for fun?" Then with, say, 20 seconds of time left, you could lean back casually and ask the important things on your mind like, "Say, Gerry, how much money do you make?"

Lorraine Schack, coordinator of senior social services in Rockville, Maryland, which held its first senior speed-dating, said, "As we get older, this is an easy way to meet people."

In a way, it is, but, then again, bouncing up from a table every three minutes and hauling it over to another table, asking your best 3 or 4 questions, and then dragging it up again and staggering over to another table, over and over again, sounds exhausting to me. I'd have to make sure I had an Albuterol inhaler tucked inside my purse in case I got too winded to talk. And wouldn't you have to take notes of who said what? So, you'd be bouncing up and down like a pogo stick, scribbling down answers on a legal pad and trying to remember which face the answers went to. That's just too much pressure!

It just seems like such a cold, business-like way to meet someone anyway. I don't see how anybody "clicks" in a situation like that, but, supposedly, speed dating is catching on. Articles are appearing on adult-oriented radio stations and community newspapers. Probably there are speed dating sites on-line too.

I have my own way of deciding if I'd like to get to know a man better. It's quicker than speed dating. I just look at him. Either I like the way he looks, or I don't. Anybody wearing a ball cap is weeded out immediately. Of course, I'm not in the market for a man at this particular time, but, in the past, I didn't need more than a few minutes to know whether I was interested in someone. If I ever do need to go trawling again, Heaven forbid, I would prefer more of a speed dating line-up situation because no matter how much I try to pretend that a man's personality is the most important thing, looks still go a long way with me.

I have a "type." That "type" is a long-legged, slim look. A man doesn't necessarily have to be drop-dead handsome to appeal to me, but there has to be something about his face and physique that is appealing. I don't even know what that something is. Can anybody really explain exactly why a certain person turns them on, or why another person doesn't? Pheromones? Maybe, but all I know is some men, just like a big pile of money, please me immensely with their looks and make my pupils open wide until the irises are completely black as I try to take them all in.

I know very well that there are really wonderful men out there who I would miss out on because I must like the way a possible mate looks. Whether a man is attractive or not doesn't change the fact that I could like him a lot and enjoy him as a friend. It doesn't mean that I couldn't appreciate him and value his intelligence. It just means that looks are part of the total package to me. On the other hand, if a man was the handsomest man in the world, but had a dark, evil soul, I could never love him or even like him. It's not just a man's appearance that turns me on. I'm not that shallow. My "type" would make my eyes light up with his appearance, and my heart sing with his goodness. Just like Don does. He's the perfect package and would be a tough act to follow.

So, no hopping from table to table for me. I'm a busy woman. I don't have all day to sit around asking silly questions. I'd know in 5 seconds if he's the one for me. Line 'em up on a stage, and I'll take a minute to look them all over and then announce, "I want that one!"