March 2007     >>

I don't understand people who get bored easily.  I can always find ways to amuse myself.  Of course, my Mama always said that "Small minds are easily amused", but that's another story.  My Mama also grew up in a Depression-era farming family who believed very strongly in the "Use It Up, Wear It Out, Make It Do, or Do Without" philosophy, also fondly referred to as "Waste Not, Want Not". 

I've spent years trying to make peace with this mentality, but it still pains me to throw stuff out.  Heck, to this day, I do just as Mama taught me and cut open tubes of hand cream with scissors to get that last little bit stuck to the tube, before I throw it away.

I guess it explains why I had this miniature beach chair still sitting around the house.  You see it was given to me as a gift (and, according to my upbringing it is a deadly sin to throw away a gift no matter how ugly, useless or cumbersome).  Now I confess, I didn't keep the entire gift.  Let me explain.  The "gift" was a small decorative box, just big enough to hold that little yellow-striped lawn chair.  Opening the box was an experience for the senses:  when you untied the ribbon and lifted the lid, you saw an ugly, scary, painted porcelain cicada reclining on that lawn chair and heard him chirping in a dreadful computer chip-induced monotone.  It only stopped when you closed the lid.

For those of you who don't know what a cicada is, it looks like a flying roach.  Some people call them locusts, but they're really an ugly cousin of the grasshopper, and they make that chirping noise that you hear at the end of the summer.  I had nightmares about that lounging cicada.  But, it was a gift...from my in-laws. 

I had to get rid of the cicada, but at least I kept the lounge chair.  And wouldn't you know it?  That Depression-era training, paid off.  One day, while working in the office, I looked up at that little chair and my small mind was easily amused.  I imagined a Bathing Bon Bon Beauty-- a way to remind people that since bon bons are best served cold, they make the perfect summertime chocolate. 

I am so grateful for my friend, Millie, who always goes along with my crazy whims.  I took a bon bon and the chair over to her photography studio, and though neither of us has any food-stylist-training, we had a blast photographing our gorgeous chocolate-spray-tanned model!  Millie's Mom joined in the fun, and supplied us with cane sugar to use as sand and the tiniest little seashells you've every seen.  We couldn't get our paper umbrella to stand up, so I had to chew some gum to create an umbrella stand.  The result is worth it, don't you agree?  Me?  Bored?  Never!  I find this Bathing Bon Bon Beauty very entertaining.

When Pascal and I want to feel like “kids on Christmas Day” all it takes is a little spending money and a few hours of shopping in antiques stores, flea markets, garage sales or thrift shops. We’ve discovered some of our greatest treasures while poking around small towns here in the States or quaint villages in France.  Two years ago, Pascal and I spent a morning treasure hunting at a community-wide garage sale in the mountains around Lake George.  We navigated our way to Bolton’s Landing on a cold and foggy October morning to start our adventure.  Three hours later, Pascal had discovered all sorts of wonderful things including an old milk jug with a rosy, rusty patina, aged flower pots with patina far more beautiful then their brand-new counterparts, and an outdoor lantern—all for less than $12.00. 

And me? I didn’t find a single thing until our very last stop.  Feeling defeated by my fruitless morning, I poked around halfheartedly in a pile of old books. I pulled out a small, hardcover burgundy book with gold lettering almost worn off of the front. It read “Daily Reminder 1928”. I opened to the middle, and discovered the old-fashioned, scrawling handwriting of a woman. I was holding the journal of a housewife who lived in those very mountains in1928. I read the first entry and instantly fell in love with this woman, who had faithfully recorded an entry on all 365 days. The asking price for the journal?  Just one dollar.  

I was so intrigued that in the following weeks, I read the journal cover to cover two times and then did a complete analysis on her journal.  This mysterious woman (who never names herself) was a newlywed, living in a new house. Her husband, Will, worked at the local paper mill. Another man named Bert (a boarder, a brother, a cousin?) also lived in their house. She cooked, sewed, cleaned, did laundry, and kept an enormous vegetable, fruit, and flower garden. In the summer, she ran a fruit and vegetable stand.

Her mother died on January 2nd, and she records it in the same way she records the daily weather, the chores that she completed, and the cooking that she had done. She only refers to feelings or emotions once in the entire journal. On March 11, she writes, “It was a long, lonesome day.”

But, how she loved to bake!  She bought her sugar in one hundred pound sacks, and in one year, she made 89 pies, 65 cakes, 64 batches of bread, 30 batches of doughnuts, 27 batches of cookies, and 4 apple crisps. She simply “did her baking” eleven times, and made cream puffs just once. Later in the year, both Will and Bert had their teeth removed. This made me laugh, and I wondered if they saw the connection at the time.

Little did I know that two years later, I would be measuring my days much the same way my journaling friend of years' past recorded her own.  79 years later, Pascal and I find ourselves living in a new house counting the number of batches of brownies and fudge and bon bon dough we make, logging the number of bon bons we dip, cooking, cleaning and running our own “Bon Bon Stand” at local festivals, expos and national trade shows.  Much like the days of 1928, our days revolve around work, work and more work, much of it manual labor.  No sitting around eating bon bons all day for me, even if I am the Bon Bon Queen!

But even in her daily life of baking, cleaning, mending and such that mysterious lady from 1928 reminds me with her old, dull pencil that even the most industrious must still seek out little pockets of pleasure:

Saturday, September 15, 1928: Partly cloudy & still quite cool so had to have a little fire in the range in the morning. Have been very busy baking & selling vegetables. Did not get through until 3 p.m. Picked a nice boquet (sic) of roses. They are beauties.

Thursday, September 27, 1928: Rained this morning & then again in afternoon. I went downtown & it rained before I got home. Got me a new hat while downtown. Made pie, cleaned my kitchen floor & canned 6 pt cans tomato pulp this morning.

Saturday, November 3, 1928: Rain most of the day. Very gloomy day, but the rain was much needed. Will took down porch screens & put them away & worked in the other part in the afternoon fixing windows. Read my Better Homes & Garden today. My first issue.

She also won the booby prize at a party, proudly recorded the weight of a 41.5 pound pumpkin she had grown, enjoyed a car trip to view the fall foliage, and picked her last roses on October 26th while it was snowing.

Today, I took a moment to walk away from the work and step into our sunny backyard where the pink buds on our cherry tree are starting to blossom.  That fifteen seconds of pleasure was just enough to inspire me to continue on.  What little bite of pleasure will you savor today?

Greetings from the Queen, Darlings!

Thanks to the marvelous technology of the modern-age, I have found a way to recline on my fainting couch, bon bons by my side, and send sweet little messages to all of my friends in cyberspace too. A proper fainting couch is a must-have for any true Southern Belle (I have two so far--one in my parlor, one in my bedroom). I'm oh-so-jealous of a dear friend who has one in her kitchen! I just love the idea of stirring some homemade pudding, putting a little roast chicken in the oven, and then restoring oneself with a nice glass of merlot while reclining on the couch....

Speaking of merlot, here is a little French lesson for you. In other parts of the country, people refer to the fainting couch as a chaise lounge. In French, it is actually "Chaise Longue", which literally means "Long Chair"(or "Chair Long" if you want to get really technical).

Somewhere along the way, a charming dyslexic soul reversed the letters and turned the Chaise Longue into a Chaise Lounge. Makes sense, though, doesn't it? These marvels of architecture are indeed perfect for lounging!

It's so warm here today, I'm feeling a little faint and my bon bons need to be chilled once again, so I'll sign off for now.

A bientot mes chers amis! A bientot.....