REFLECTING ON MY COLLECTING

Last spring, my friend Marie phoned to borrow a hat for a fancy dress-up event she was attending.

"What style and color?" I asked. "I've got you covered, whatever," I told her.

"I knew I came to the right person!"  She chuckled.

And indeed she did! Marie was pleased with the hat I lent her. Also I offered to lend her a pair of matching lace gloves, but she declined.

I've purchased many elegant hats in perfect condition in Thrift or Consignment stores. However the one I lent Marie I bought on sale at Walmart. It had been a favorite of mine when my hair was red.

Last decade, I attended lots of formal Teas. But these accessories also made wonderful props for my speeches at Business Networking events. Besides, I LOVE hats!

And speaking of Teas, I collect teapots. Over the years I've acquired a variety of styles there, too! I have one that looks like a magic lamp, another a pumpkin, also a pineapple, one covered in vegetables, several in flowers, one with a butterfly handle, another featuring jungle animals, 2 Chinese, 1 Japanese, 1 that resembles a German stein, a huge colorful 1 shaped in Moroccan style , and many, many more! My prettiest ones are on my kitchen counter. I call them my parade of teapots.

Also I collect Faerie memorabilia along with pretty glass & ceramic eggs. Little faeries are scattered all over my house!

On my kitchen wall over the breakfast table I have a reproduction of the famous faerie painting Summer's Eve. It's directly across from the bay window looking thru the porch and onto my backyard. The view could be an extension of this scene. This picture was the first item I bought for the house with my own money. My father thought it a needless, impulsive purchase until he saw how well it fit in.

On a trip to a Thrift Store with a friend, we saw a collection of owls; ceramic, glass, & carved ones, numerous shelves of them; owls, owls, and more owls of all size and variety!

"Someone was a major collector and died!" my friend exclaimed. "Just look at all of those!"

"And their relatives probably were eager to dispose of them," I added. -- Well, that got me to thinking about the fate of MY precious collections after I'm gone.

Back in my 20's I started collecting unusual costume jewelry. All of these items are quite lovely! At age 40, I thought I'd leave them to the daughter of a close friend in High School, in memory of our friendship despite the fact our friendship deteriorated shortly after we started Junior College together.

Later, I happened to see a photo of her daughter in the newspaper along with an interview. (She won a major athletic completion!) Well, she was the most masculine looking and sounding 15 year old girl you could ever imagine! The only things missing from her photo were a spiked dog collar, a tattoo, and a cigar in her mouth! If that's her thing, whoopee for her, but it didn't solve my problem. She obviously was not the type to appreciate my jewelry!

Anyway, I've since legally willed my hats, jewelry, and accessories to the local Theatre Guild. One problem solved!

THE ME TOO BLUES

One of my favorite TV programs, The Great American Baking Show was pulled after only a few episodes because a judge was accused of sexual harassment. Why punish the audience, not to mention those star bakers whose talent has earned them the spotlight!!! All they had to do was replace the judge. Or if the show was pre-recorded just run a banner at the beginning of the program. Good grief!

A friend called 2017 The Year of the Pervert. She also calls The Great American Baking Show, Dianne's porn. She right on both counts!

Still I'm glad all these sexual harassment issues are finally coming to light. I've been there, just as every other woman!

However, I was fortunate during my 20's because I worked for my father. My dad was not the type to sexually harass or molest anyone. My father was quite a handsome man, often I watched women throw themselves at him!

He told me of 2 separate occasions where 2 different women (casual business associates) took him by surprise and planted a kiss directly on his mouth! He said he could never be attracted to either and resented this. Afterward, he distanced himself from them. So this is not just a female issue!!!

We had a number of salesmen drop in who were notorious huggers. Whenever I saw one heading straight for me I'd fold my arms and give them a look. They got the message!

But the workforce was a far better place than High School! There, I suffered EVERY form of harassment you can possibly imagine.

During my 40's my father showed me his class ring with pride. "I was always surprised that you never wanted one," he said.

I told him with disdain that I'd rather blot it from memory and have no reminders!

"But that's one the happiest times in life!" he replied with a chuckle.

"No," I stated. "It was the most miserable. I hated every second there!" I didn't even get into the sexual harassment due to embarrassment.  But I mentioned the snooty caste system and the numerous cliques.

"I can't believe that!" He huffed "It was nothing like that when I went to school!"

"I don't care how it was in your day. Believe me, I had very different experiences!" I stated matter-of-factly.

He gave me that I'm-sure-it-couldn't-have-been-that-bad look. Actually it was worse!!! I used to cringe every morning when the building came into view.

One of the boys who made my life a nightmare left school to serve in Vietnam. A middle school student at my bus stop was corresponding with him. I told her, "I hope he comes back in a box with dismembered pieces inside!" She was horrified and accused me of not supporting our troops. I told her it was just that one particular guy, and then I told her why.  

"Oh, but he's sooo sweet, I can't imagine him ever doing anything like that!" she said.

"So I'm a liar then! Were you there?" I replied. No matter what I said, I realized she would refuse to believe me. -- And she had never even met him in person! Ugh!

A few decades later, I learned this guy had become a Preacher! I don't believe for a minute he's changed. The creep has just found a perfect cover!

I had the misfortune of being forced to sit beside this slime bag in Science Class. He had a filthy mouth and wandering, grabby hands. The last row behind us was filled with boys who cheered him on and laughed. The entertainment at my expense! We had a male teacher who turned a blind eye to this. The class room was small, so I could never understand why he didn't notice! I thought teachers were supposed to have eyes in the back of their head. This one seemed to be blind!

I couldn't turn to my parents because I feared my father would maim or murder the boy and I didn't want my dad going to prison. My mother was now a paranoid schizophrenic living in the Twilight Zone. Also I was mortified to verbalize it.

Finally, I went to the Guidance Counselor and told her I wanted to be transferred out of that class. Deeply embarrassment and in tears, I gave her the reason why! I remember she lowered her eyes and smirked as if I'd just told her a dirty joke. She then stated it wasn't a serious enough reason for a transfer. I was in disbelief!!!

I was never going back there! I informed her that I would be skipping class.

"Then you will be expelled," she replied with a cold stare.

I didn't care, I told her!

Then, I decided I would go back. But first, I'd buy a switchblade. And I was fully prepared to use it! By then, I didn't care if I went to jail. I had run out of options. I was desperate!

During my last period class a messenger came and I was handed a note. I gave a big sigh of relief! The Guidance Counselor had changed her mind. My transfer was granted. I was out of there!

Up until then I was a chronic nail biter. Immediately I made the decision to stop. And I never weakened, not once. I swore that if anyone ever did those things to me again I'd leave a mark on their face that would last a lifetime. Or I'd shove my thumb deep into their throat! Fortunately, during my senior year, no one harassed me, at least not sexually.

People often admire my long, beautiful fingernails. They came about because of a loathsome troglodyte back in Science Class!

GOING GALLIC FOR THE HOLIDAY (Sort of)

My Christmas this year will be subdued. I didn't feel up to erecting and decorating a tree. Also I'm too old and uninsured to be balancing on ladders. All of my holiday decorations are minimal. I'm not in my usual joyous and celebratory mood. Seems nothing has gone right since returning from Thailand 2 years ago. Perhaps the universe is punishing me for not expatriating as planned. But as a future home, I found those developing countries disappointing. 

I was reading that the French celebrate Christmas quite differently from Americans. For one thing, they don't go wild with colored lights and decorating! To me, that's what makes Christmas special! But unlike my neighbors I never decorate the outside of my home beyond a wreath. Yet, I do love decorating the inside, but this year it just seems like a bother. However the holidays only arrive once a year and I'm determined to enjoy them. So I'll be embracing some Gallic traditions. 

I've decorated the fireplace and my formal table under the chandelier is gorgeous. And of course I'll light scented candles; I'm partial to cinnamon bun & candied maple sugar.

I own at least half a dozen berets, so I may place one atop my head before sitting down to Christmas dinner. Also I plan to play French Christmas carols.

The French do put up a tree which I'm forgoing this year, although that's a German tradition. The Hessian soldiers brought this custom to America during the Revolutionary War. To compensate for my lack of a tree I've gone a little overboard with garlands this year.

For my Christmas dinner I'm having a chicken breast stuffed with brie & apple along with garlic mashed potatoes, plus a Technicolor toss salad with tiny cultivars, (the colorful jewels of tomatoes) combined with sweet peppers.

Raw oysters are served as part of the Gallic holiday meal. I've loved these since I was a child so they will be on my menu! If I wasn't poor, I'd top them with caviar. But the inexpensive kind tastes like it came from a catfish, so I'll top with cooked spinach & herbs instead.

The French don't drink eggnog, but champagne. Well I don't need to numb my brain or impair my judgment to enjoy myself! Good or bad, I want to be 100 per cent in the moment! So scratch that one!

I visited France on a group tour way back in 1978. We spent 3 days in Paris and then boarded a plane for the French Rivera. In Paris, I took 2 sips of champagne at the Moulin Rouge and that was enough. I'm having cinnamon plum tea to drink.

The French seem to set the style for everything! My 9th Grade Civics teacher explained to the class how ultra short hair became a trend in the 1940's."During the war," he said, "many French women had German lovers. After the Germans were driven out, these women were shamed for being collaborators and publicly had their heads shaved. Not long after, American tourists arrived and seeing the French women with short hair, assumed it must be the latest trend and aped it." That was HIS theory, anyway!

Here's a joke from my childhood:  Why are there so many tree lined boulevards in France?...Answer:  So the German Army could march in the shade!

For some reason my father disliked the French! I argued that they showed the Nazis a hard time. He laughed and said they showed'em a good time! -- Geez, Dad was stationed in the Pacific during WWII. So how would he know? But then Lininger is a German name!

Strange, my family always observed the French custom of opening presents on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas morning. I always found this to be an anti-climax! I was scooted off to bed directly afterward and couldn't play with anything until the next AM. -- I was the one who put an end to this custom in our family!

This year I will be aping many Gallic traditions myself, but selectively.

I read that for Christmas dessert the French eat only fruit & cheese! Really? Geez! This is the land of pastry!!! On Christmas I'm allowed a real dessert!!!

Chocolate truffles are a part of a French Christmas, however not with the big meal. This suits me fine; I always have them around for the holidays.

And by the way, the pastry in Austria is just as toothsome. But for my Christmas dessert I'm having a German stollen; a traditional Teutonic fruitcake with marzipan filling. A nod to my ancestry! Also I'm keeping some American customs, too. However, this year it will be mostly Gallic at my house.  

But for New Year's, I might go in a completely different direction. I'm thinking Salmon Wellington and Figgy pudding... No, on second thought forget that! Spanakopita with lots of feta cheese followed by Baklava oozing nuts & honey seems a much better choice!

Since I can't afford any trips abroad in the near future, I'm going to enjoy holiday vacations at home!

TIS THE SEASON FOR SHARING

Here's a joke I made up and posted on Facebook awhile back:  What's RED & WHITE & BLUE during the holidays?... Answer:  A clinically depressed strip mall Santa!

OK, that was my first share!  What were you expecting cash? Haaa haaa haaa haaah!!!!!

Now I'm going to share 2 recipes I've concocted. As with my jokes they are not going to appeal to everyone. However both are favorites of mine, also they are easy to make. I think that should automatically earn them 2 extra stars. The hardest part is opening a jar. I have small hands, so this is an arduous struggle for me. 

First and foremost, always set a beautiful table, even if you are alone. Use lovely napkins, paper ones are just fine! If you don't have fresh flowers, inexpensive silk ones will do. In fact silk actually works better; you can bend & twist the stems to suit the container unlike real flowers. Also you can mix real & silk together.

 Always treat yourself as you would any important guest you'd want to impress!!!

Embrace the holidays! You don't have to go overboard; you can achieve this on a minimal level with little effort and expense. Add holiday flair to your table with decorations from the Dollar Store. Many of these are beautiful and will get you into the holiday spirit. This year, I'm foregoing a tree and only decorating my fireplace and the big formal table where I'll be enjoying most of my meals.

Below is my favorite way to enjoy spaghetti:

 
 

                                     SPAGHETTI DIANNE

 Cook spaghetti according to directions on the box. -- I like to mix spinach spaghetti with regular. It's more colorful and remember we taste with our eyes almost as much as our tongues.  Just make sure the noodles are exactly the same width! This is of the utmost importance; otherwise it will mess up the cooking time.


After draining spaghetti, dish it onto individual plates; add a dollop or two, or three of sour cream. Then top with a medley of Greek olives with sundried tomatoes & capers. (You can purchase this combination all together in one jar at Walmart under Sam's Choice.) Also add chopped Spanish olives with minced pimiento for extra flavor.

I love deviled eggs and have stuffed them with many different ingredients over the years, below is the latest.

                                                        

 

                                          DEVILED EGGS

                                    (My Current Favorite)

  
Use either large or jumbo eggs. To devil, the 1st step is boiling the hell out of them! (Old lame joke; I'm vacuuming the dust & cobwebs from my mind.)

After cooling, cut them in half, either straight across or length wise. Scoop out the yolks & place them in a small bowl. You may need to cut away some white to create depths, add this white to the yolks in bowl.

Mix in SABRA caramelized onion with smoked paprika hummus. Dip the spoon into the center where all the onions are clustered. Mix well in bowl! Then add generous sprinkles of oregano & mix well; then add more oregano & mix again. After blending well, fill the hollows of the egg whites with this mixture. Sprinkle parsley flakes on top.

 

SIMPLE, EASY, & DELICIOUS!

PERVERTS & THE PINK PANTHER

As with most women, I've had many experiences with creepy men. Today I'm sharing one that happened in 1964. I was barely 13.

Back then, my mother & I were renting a small apartment in West Palm Beach on weekdays, so I could attend the "special" school there. We came home on weekends and holidays. This entire year was an aberration, but a welcome one! The kids at this school were much nicer than the ones in my hometown. There were no cliques or caste system, everyone was your friend.

My mother loved to shop and West Palm Beach was paradise to her. We'd catch the city bus into what used to be the center of the city. Here, were far more choices than the small coastal town in which we lived. However shopping was tiresome to me, plus I never thought much of my mother's taste. Also she was a pain to be around! Mom was a puncher and a pincher!

Rather than listen to me complain, she'd drop me off at a movie and pick me up later. This was a treat! I'd been going to the movies alone since the age of 9. It was a different world back then! Little kids had more freedom and were usually safe. And I had just become a teenager!

School had ended an hour earlier. There were 3 large theatres close together. Unlike today, all had only one screen but each featured a different film.

I chose the Pink Panther movie. It was titled A Shot in the Dark with Peter Sellers. Also starring was a German actress named Elke Sommer; beautiful as a goddess she was now an up-and-comer in Hollywood. I had recently read all about her in a movie magazine.

The inside of the theatre was enormous. I avoided the long center rows because they were too peopley. Always I would choose one of the two shorter side rows. Nowadays, most have just one big center row because multiple choices are offered under one roof.

I seated myself half-way down the middle of a right row. I was a bit early and cartoons were playing followed by a Three Stooges short. About two rows ahead of me and two seats over sat a man in his late-20's or early 30's. He laughed a lot at the funny scenes and then looked back at me. As he did, his eyes always lingered. This made me uncomfortable.

After the opening credits of the movie he got up and left. I felt a tremendous sense of relief! But then he returned! This time, he sat down in MY row just ONE seat away from me! This was a big red flag and I knew he was up to no good! So I grabbed my purse and took off. I practically had to jump over his long legs to get out, but no way was I remaining in that seat!

Perhaps he had mistaken me for older? I wore lipstick (a light shade) and I dressed like an older teen (but not trampy). Maybe in the dark light of the theatre I looked 15? But 15 is still a kid and he was an adult!

Afterward I walked over to the left side and took the aisle seat in the back row. At the far opposite end sat a middle aged man with a mustache who was around my father's age. He looked harmless enough. But he kept getting up! And I noticed every time he came back he would move closer to me! Finally, there was only ONE empty seat between us. "Oh no, not again!" I whispered to myself with a sigh of disgust. I scooped up my purse and fled this lecher, too.

I stood between the center and right rows wondering where to sit, next. Thankfully, the previous perv was gone, or else well-hidden. I returned to the right row and chose another aisle seat in the event I needed a quick escape. However a few seats away sat two middle-aged women, so I felt relatively safe this time. I enjoyed the rest of the movie in peace.

Never had I experienced that kind of problem inside a theatre before or after, never in all these years. Yet on that late afternoon long ago I encountered double debauchers. Perhaps there was a rare cosmic event in the skies that day that brought them all out.

I never told my mother about those men, fearing she would put an end to my going to the movies alone.

MY PREMIER FRIEND

From my first memory as a baby in a playpen, she was there, just like a sister. "Sharla" was a neighbor and 4 years my senior.  Her parents were an older couple, both over 55 years of age. They felt like extended family and lived just down the highway.

Sharla had been adopted from an Eastern European country as an infant. Her mom Jayne in particular cherished her. She overindulged Sharla, spoiling her rotten. Even Sharla's uncle called her a brat and swore he'd never take her in if anything should happen to his sister.

There was no denying that Sharla was spoiled and entitled, also she was mouthy and disrespectful to everyone, including adults. My father considered her a bad influence and my mother tolerated her because she was constantly asking favors from her mother, Jayne. I adored Sharla for those same reasons my parent's disliked her. I found her daring and way cool!

Sharla knew I idolized her and often used it to her own amusement. She wasn't kind. I was always made to feel she was doing me a favor with her company and was merely enduring me. There were lots of "You're just a dumb kid, you don't know anything" put-downs. Also it was automatically assumed that she had first choice of everything and I was supposed to be content with sloppy seconds. Also if we went someplace where there were kids her age or older, I suddenly became disposable or a non-entity.

Whenever she visited, we didn't stick around the property. We went exploring! This was back in the days before Florida was consumed by concrete. Miles and miles of scenic wilderness waited to be discovered. It made me feel as if I'd traveled back in time and it was exciting!

Sharla was a tomboy but then so was I, plus I could go her a few better. Sharla was terrified of leeches and spiders, I am not. (Bring on their slimy and hairy little butts, I'll kick them!) Those things never rattled me the way they do most girls.

Also because she was older, Sharla was more interesting to be around. I was exposed to a wider expanse of knowledge. The kids my age only knew things I knew and I found them boring.

And she was a physically beautiful child! Her eyes had an upward slant that gave her an exotic look, probably a recessive gene from the Mongol warriors who invaded her birth country centuries ago. Her frame was slender and sinewy; and she was born tan. Long dark hair hung down her shoulders like melted chocolate.

Everything about her was awesome!

My grandfather was a chain smoker. I thought smoking looked like fun and declared that I was going to be a smoker when I grew up. Well, Sharla gave me quite a lecture! "It's a dirty, unhealthy habit," she declared. This dissuaded me!

My family stayed in close touch with hers when we moved down the coast to Hobe Sound. But we were there only briefly.

After we moved back to Stuart, we rented a 100 acre property with a big lake in front and several small ponds in the back. Friends and I swam in the lake and had great fun on the rowboat as well. My father also bought me a horse. Sharla visited more frequently than ever!

She was an experienced horsewoman while still in Elementary school due to professional riding lessons. (Hey, I said she was awesome!) But I was the kid who owned a horse!

But the horse was a stallion that proved temperamental and unpredictable, so my parents forbade me to ride unsupervised. However Sharla knew how to handle a horse! When she visited, Sharla took the reins and I held onto her. Among my happiest memories are the 2 of us riding double and cantering across the field in front of the lake.

During the autumn of 1959 everything changed! I entered Third Grade and Sharla Junior High. By 1960 we had left the sprawling house on the lake and the horse was sold. My parents purchased what was to be our permanent home, a house on the St. Lucie River atop a steep hill in the back that showcased an amazing view. But my memories of that place are mostly terrible.

Sharla almost completely disappeared from my life. Her mother Jayne dropped by from time-to-time, but usually alone.

My father noticed I was sad. He explained that unfortunately we were at an age where 4 years made a tremendous difference. "Later, when you're both adults, you'll be friends again," he assured me.

The following year Jayne visited and Sharla came too! I almost didn't recognize her! She had undergone a growth spurt and was now almost 6 feet tall! -- I was still 4 feet whatever and in the Fourth Grade. Sharla's long straight hair which I had so admired was now short and curly. I felt as if the friend I'd known was dead and replaced by this adult stranger. However, this encounter made it easier for me to move on.

Several years passed, I was now 14. A 7-Eleven was only a brisk 15 minute walk from my house. Upon my way there, 3 older teenage girls suddenly emerged in front of me from a side street.  The middle one was Sharla! They were boisterous and all were smoking cigarettes.

Sharla must have felt my eyes penetrating the back of her head. She turned, and then did a double take. On her second look, her eyes narrowed. I got the message! I was being issued a warning! I must keep my distance and not embarrass her in front of her older much cooler friends.

The next block they turned. I watched them walk off, all puffing away on their cigarettes. It's a peculiar feeling to see someone who was a significant part of your history, someone with whom you made memories and now that person may as well be a stranger.

I saw her briefly for the last time when I was 19. My father and I entered the drive-thru at a bank. I was on the passenger side in sunglasses. Sharla was the lone teller! Her hair was cut in a pixie style and bleached platinum; this look complemented her dark complexion and eyes. She was strikingly attractive!

When she saw our name on the slip, she looked up and curiously stared at me. I didn't acknowledge her.

As we pulled away, my father asked, "Wasn't that what's-her-name with the slanty eyes who was your friend?"

"Yeah, that was her," I replied.

"So why didn't you speak to her?" he wanted to know.

"That friendship ended years ago," I told him. The water in my reservoir was fresh and I wanted to keep it that way.

It seems incredible to me that If Sharla is alive today; she's now 70 years old!

A current friend suggested I look her up online and contact her. However I have no interest. Sharla was the one who left and has never made any attempt to contact me during all those years. We were friends only because we we're thrown together by our parents. Given a choice, she would never have chosen me. And in retrospect, she wasn't that wonderful a friend.

Sharla's only a part of my history now, as are my deceased parents.

COFFEE IS OK, BUT TEA'S FOR ME

A family friend was horrified because my parents allowed me to drink coffee as a pre-schooler. Actually I started as a toddler. After meals, the members of my family often left a couple gulps behind in their cups. I would toddle around the table and drink them.  

At age 4, I was served my own cup at each meal. My parents didn't think it was any big deal. I thought all little kids drank coffee until I had a sleepover at a friend's house. Needless to say, I wasn't served coffee there.

On a family vacation in the mountains I ordered a cup for breakfast in a restaurant. I was 7 years old. The waitress was hesitant to serve me one until my parents insisted. As she placed the cup down in front of me she scolded. "Don't you know coffee turns little girl's feet black!"

I knew she was full of something else. Otherwise, I would have been coal black up to my private regions.

And it did cause concern with other people. When I was 14 a Dentist told my mother that I had smoking stains on my teeth! But my mother knew better. "She drinks a lot of coffee," Mom told him.

However for special occasions or afternoon company, coffee was never served, it was always tea! This felt like a treat! In comparison coffee seemed ordinary.

By the time I reached my 20's I was sick of coffee and would only drink tea. I'd fallen in love with all the flavored teas new to the market. I even studied tasseology and learned to read tea leaves.

In my 40's I made a convert, of sorts. My father announced he also was sick of coffee and henceforth wanted to be served tea, but none of that flavored junk that I like.

Right around this time, coffee houses were springing up as fancy flavored java became popular. Suddenly coffee was looking a lot more interesting. But I sure didn't like the price! However I soon discovered that I could create a superior concoction at home with instant coffee, flavorings, & toppings. It isn't rocket science. But eventually I tired of those, too.

 
An occasional cup still hits the spot. My favorite now is hazelnut mixed with cinnamon; and sometimes I enjoy a heaping spoonful of chocolate in my coffee. But mostly, I drink tea. I find it to be more refreshing.

Coffee is still the work horse no matter how you fancy it up. Tea is the show pony and deserves nothing less than to be served in a lovely cup & saucer from an elegant teapot. Tea will always be the more special.