Story Time

 The holidays are a time for family and cooking those special dishes everyone loves and waits all year to get. It's also the time, at least in my house, for the annual Christmas eave gourmet dinner. 
The Children when they were small and adventurous, would badger the chef until you'd break and tell them what was on the menu, my ex, or have fun with them by playing "Can you guess?" That would be me. I almost miss the constant kitchen traffic and queries of "What cha' making?"

When The children's father would cook it was lobster, crab or Prime rib. The first year we got live lobster and let the kids race them across the kitchen floor, with much laughter and joy. This is where we learned the lesson of "You don't name what you eat" It makes it hard to cook and eat them later.
The ex was all "More for me!" but I could see the the look of betrayal in the eye's of my child. 

They ate only the sides that year, of which there was plenty but that isn't the point is it?

Speaking of those sides, of garlic mashed potatoes, a large salad, Buttered broccoli and a cheesecake of which only the flavor changed from year to year. The ex had definite idea's on food.

I on the other hand liked to experiment, and for the most part my family would eat my experiments happily, no complaints, no leftovers. Every once in a while the food gods did not smile on my efforts, usually when I was not feeling well or was distracted beyond the usual big dinner, 3 kids and a husband variety. Those disasters didn't happen very often and when they did they were pretty epic.

Like the time we had to ditch the Beans because the child didn't realize the can of mushrooms should not exhibit an attitude when opened, it spit at him, and he threw them in the casserole anyway. Good thing he mentioned this behavior before we all ate!

The time I over cooked the shrimp and we could have played table tennis with them, they were so chewy. Or the year the oven door decided after 40 years it had had enough and fell off, dumping the entire roast duck A'la Orange on the floor. Breaking the pyrex, splattering lava hot orange sauce and duck parts  allover the kitchen floor my arm, one leg and leaving a divit in the linoleum, to remind us all to be very careful when using the oven. The same oven the ex swore up and down he had fixed and I must have "Done something to" the last time it flopped open after the loose spring finally broke. I had been holding it closed with a wooden spoon to bake for a month before the supposed fix. needless to say it didn't take.

Disasters aside, I'm a good cook and I like to try things I have only had or made in the restaurants were I worked before marriage. The year I decided to make Greek Youvetsi Arni a lamb shank stewed in tomato sauce served over Orzo. Roasting anything well takes hours and people get hungry, and by people I mean my family, so i decided to make a few side dishes and appetizers as well as the annual Christmas cookies, so the kitchen was a right mess. We had my ex's sister and friends over so there was even more confusion and noise,  extra children and glasses of wine. Every time I would take cookies or crab cakes out of the oven, they would disappear, so I was getting a little crabby. In order to not starve before dinner, I was hiding a couple of whatever in a cabinet, it kept them out of the blast zone and safe from the ravening hoards. 

I used to cater weddings and business meetings so I know how to feed a crowd but nothing keeps up with pre-teen stomachs. I had prepped most of the cookies stuff the day before and the dinner was pretty straight forward, hunk of meat in tomato sauce and herbs in large roaster in back of oven 3hours and your done. the rest was scoop on trays bake and serve. everything was labeled, except the salmon roe.

Between the making and the baking and the whipping of things the roe got pushed to the back of the counter, where one of the kids wanted to know what the pink stuff in the bowl was. Being busy I assumed it was one of mine and told them to try it and find out. Them not being one of my children, they did.
Ruining the joys of Terramosalata for them forever after. Though possibly teaching them an important lesson, Grown ups are not to be trusted.

The star Tarot

 Here we go again with another Tarot card

This is the Star, She'snot finished yet but I thought I would post her so far anyway.

She is a more personal card to me My Aunt Rainey gave me this card when I was 7 or 8.

She is the one who taught me to love the cards and gave me my first set.

She sAys she was taught by gypsies, which knowing her just might be true. 

She lived in the same big "C" shaped apartment building, 

3 doors down from Wrigley field, that we did when I was little.

We on the 3rd floor and she on the 2nd. 

I could get to her house by running down the porch stairs and banging on the door.   

when she was home she would let me in and we could talk,

She taught me to make cookies, and it was OK to speak your mind and to be different from everyone else.

She would say "If everyone was the same life would be boring."

The card depicts the north star, sailors and travelers guide in the night sky, in the middle of the 7 sisters constellation. 

A woman on a field of grass and flowers, Pouring water from 2 jugs onto the earth and into a body of water,

She stands on the water and kneels on the land.

She is a calm guide to that balance within oneself, that nourishes the soul. 

She sees both sides and nourishes them both without judgement.

All sewn in DMC 3 strands over satin fabric in satin stitch and rice stitch.

The stars are with 3 strand DMC burnished silver thread.

Any time you use a metallic thread you must be gentile and patient with it or it will turn into the most unmanageable nest of vipers you've ever seen!

I use short lengths, no longer than a foot and a very wide eye needle, this helps to keep knots in the thread and damage to your fabric to a minimum because Metallic threads will shred a fragile fabric.

Make sure you go to the back of your work and bury and wrap the ends otherwise they will wriggle loose.

So! That happened.......

So hello out there, it's been a while.
It's been busy here at casa Bernstein

We got new windows last week (yay!)
I can't tell you, how wonderful it is, to be able to see out the front window again!
Not to mention all the others and the sliding doors that actually slide!
It makes me giddy just to open and shut them for the cat.

Then there was the trip to Chicago to see my youngest graduate high school, with high honors from the president, no less!

We then proceeded to pack up all her worldly possessions and drive her cross country, back to Seattle. Where she will take a simester off and start college next fall.

But before all that, I had what was supposed to be minor surgery in - out no problems, back on your feet in no time, mmmmmm, not so much.

Good news, I discovered I'm allergic to morphine/oxycodone etc.
Bad news, I learned this after surgery. So needless to say recovery took longer than expected.

So in all of that I didn't sew much.

wrigley field 100 year anniversary

I lived here!

I grew up living 3 apartments down from wrigley in the 70's-80's.
back when it was little house in the barrio and we were practically the only Caucasians for miles who were crazy enough to live there.
that "c" shaped building with the arrow is where i grew up in a 3rd floor balcony apartment.

the apartment with the check mark is the one we young neighborhood punks used to climb up, to watch games from the roof. we had a perfect view over the left field bleachers.

the old manual score board

I once got knocked off my bike by a pop fly over the left field wall by Bobby Bonilla (I don't actually know for sure but it was a good enough story to get an autograph!)

that was back in the day, when the score board was still run by dan,dan the number man who changed all the scores by hand, on big wood boards. he'd let a few of us punks up to help him the day before  or the day after to make sure everything was organized for the next game.

he paid $2 + a coke and a hotdog and if you showed him your report card with good grades, he'd let you stay and watch the game from the board!






and being punk kids we would park cars in the unaffiliated lots at the end of the block before the "Official" parkers got there to and charged $5 to park 'em. we'd get 4-5 cars before we got run off the lot by the older kids.

that would give us enough readys to run to Yum-Yum Doughnuts (X marks that spot) and get a burger and fries, for each of us and $ left over to get candy later.

we'd go "car surfing" to get there so if any of you all parked behind wrigly on clark between wellington the Yum-yum ( because boy did they pack 'em in!) and came back to dents and scratches on your car, sorry ;) !
 oh! and if you were ever in the hood at night to see the bleachers lit you would know them as the ICAGO UBS cause no one ever fixed those lights in the 70's!

Wedding belt

Isn't that a lovely shot?








  My Photographer, Vicki Simpson, took some simply stunning pictures of the belt to my wedding dress





 Chicago sunlight streaming through the windows at my mothers house.


we had glorious 50* weather December 28,


 very unexpected since every  weatherman in the country had been freaking out, about what was coming our way for weeks, up to that point.

here's DH's vest

I offered to embroider and embellish it more but his eye's widened in panic and had trouble answering me


so I left it in an "unfinished" state.

I know he prefers it that way I was JUST teasing him
I know what he likes!
besides, can't have him prettier than me, now can we??

just one more shot in all that gilded fairyland sun

and there we are Married!

would you believe 2 days later it was -10 and snowing like the dickens!

that's Chicago weather for you, a kiss on both cheeks and then a slap in the face!

we got out on what we found out later was the last of 10 planes for the night! whew!

home again, home again, jiggity, jigg, jigg

so after 2 weeks in chicago, all the running around and planning before hand the running around visiting in indiana

and what-not while there, oh yeah and the getting married.
I got home to a cat who isn't at all happy to see me.
poor neglected baby!

Pictures are forthcoming and there is a vid one of my uncles shot on you tube here and here

now on to the thankyous and unpacking

I am feeling supremely unmotivated to do anything but sleep

secret revealed

See, I told you I had a good reason to be ignoring my cq!

I promise to have some pictures later.

and yes I know there is an extra l in celebrate! I didn't catch it when I ordered them.
and if you saw what kind of spelling mistakes I usually have, you be impressed that that's the only one that got by me! ha!

I am getting some champaign now......cheers!

Heritage CQ - Chicago is done!

adding flowers was an absolute must

the have livened up what was a good  block into a great block







i may still have to add a few more beads here and there


 but I think I have gotten it to  "done"




here you can see the block before flowers





 and after

big difference!
though I'm not sure about the sequin trail up the side of the el car....
I wanted something trellis/dangling
but the sequins seem to be distracting rather than framing.

help me out ?
anyone got a better idea?

heritage update - chicago

  It's still not done yet, it needs more.....stuff

so far I have favorite music halls and venues and restaurants. some of which are long gone now or closed and decaying ( shame-shame!_)

a map of the el lines.  I so miss the CTA!

Never thought I'd hear myself saying that!

Seattle could take a lessen or 30 from the CTA

I have part of the skyline and if you know who those two shady characters are, there's an APB out on them!

the harbor lighthouse, the only one in america with a red light.


our beloved (or not) 3000's

and this saucy girl!
she represents a few things for me,
1st shes an iconic chicago poster,
2nd she sort of represents the playboy club where my mom worked as a young and callow yout

but as you can see it needs more.

chicago is known as Urbs in Horto (City in a Garden) or more accurately, city of a thousand hidden gardens. there everywhere you just have to know where to look.
take an el ride for fun on the red, brown or green lines and you'll see what I mean. those lines are some of the oldest in the city and run down most alleys.
if you look down, you can see into peoples back yards and they have some of the best garden views!
So I need more flowers...everywhere stuck inbetween places you normally wouldn't look for them to be.

and seamtreatments I haven't done any yet and the block looks naked without them.
but I must think carefully about what, don't want to overwhelm the block either, hmm...

A story for you all

Isn't it funny how the brain works?
with my mind on random thought parade, I remembered this episode while sewing one morning, it's totally unrelated to anything I was doing at the time and I haven't thought of this in years
this is a memory that I've been meaning to right down before I completely forget all the details.
this is from when I babysat backstage for friends who were involved with the Organic theater company in Chicago. this would be around 1972-4

Toms jeep

"I'll drive her home" Tom said with a smile. He had a warm engaging face, merry brown eyes, a small bulb of a nose, full lips and a bristle mustache.
His hair was still wet from a recent shower and was slicked back close to his head but would eventually escape into the wild mess that he could never quite control unless he cut it close or held it tight to his skull in a pony tail.
I picked up my bag and Tom put his arm around my shoulder to steer me towards the back of the theater. "the play is going well." said making nervous small talk. everything about Tom was loud from expansive hand gestures to his booming tenor.
"the applause were loud tonight and there were 2 curtain calls." he smiled down at me"yes, we did good" letting out a lusty sigh of pleasure, practically glowing from the high of a good performance.

we left the backstage through the heavy fire doors and crunched through the gravel of the parking lot to his "new" car. a WWII era jeep still painted in army green camouflage, the gas can strapped to the back with webbing and no top.
"Isn't she a beauty?" he demanded throwing his arm wide to embrace the freedom of his new toy. "yeah, It's great" I said with all the skepticism of an 11 year old girl. I looked at him sideways wondering if he was seriously going to drive me home in this deathtrap.
"get in, get in!" he said taking my shoulders and giving me an encouraging shove towards the side of the vehicle. Tom swung himself gracefully up and over the door into the drivers seat saying, "the doors are welded shut so you're going to have to climb over." Great, I thought to myself, dumping my bag into the backseat and hoisting myself over the door frame, to land heavily into the cracked leather of the unpaded seat.

"Showtime!" he chortled, as he shoved the key into the ignition. as he turned the key, the jeep growled into surly life "Isn't she great?" he said again, with even more enthusiasm if that was possible. as I looked at him, with eyebrows raised and a smile plastered on my face, I couldn't help thinking to myself, OK, he's lost it.
I had to grab onto the door as he flung the jeep into reverse and backed out of the parking lot spraying gravel in the process. Jamming it into first gear with a crunch and clank of old gears he popped the clutch and the jeep zoomed forward, bouncing down the alley towards Clark street.

He started telling me the history of the jeep, pitching his voice so it could be heard over the roar of the engine, Tom yelled "these things were made to last." and mores the pity, I thought to myself, getting a tighter hold on the door frame and frantically reaching for the handle, conveniently placed on the dash in front of me.

As we bounced high over, yet another, pothole in the street, I glanced over my left arm to make sure Tom was still driving and that I wasn't about to be launched into a parked car or random tree. He was still in his seat, hunched forward over the stearing wheel, eyes alight with manic glee, teeth barred and a shit-eating grin on his face. I was terrified and this gave me no hope for my immediate future. Not to mention the random tree, I was still convinced, we were going to hit at any moment.

by the time we pulled up to my front door, his hair had dried, in the wind of our passing, to a dark brown halo that reached out into every corner of the night sky. "Here you go!" he declared heartily, slapping the side of the jeep with his hand, making a hollow thunking noise, "safe and sound!" With a pulse to rival any heart attack victim I thought. climbing unsteadily over the side of the vehicle I took in a deep inhalation of crisp night air, I hadn't realized until then, I had been holding since the start of the ride.

Reaching for my bag I thanked Tom for the ride home. "Any time, any time!" he was clearly pleased with himself for the good deed performed on my behlf, I was just glad to be home in one piece.
As I watched him drive off into the bright Chicago night, I sat down on the curb to let my wobbly nerves and shaky knees calm down a bit before climbing the stairs and falling into bed.

I didn't figure out until much later that no roller coaster, fast car, or thrill ride could ever come close to the excitement of riding home in Toms Jeep.

I grew up on the north side of Chicago under the bleachers of Wrigley field (down the block actually it just sounds more poetic! )

one block north on grace was an old convent-I don't remember which one-who's bells would toll the hours & had special bells for noon & Monday evening, Saturday & Sunday mass.
all the other churches in the neighborhood would do the same so when the hour came you would hear all the bells go almost at once.
my favorite were the Christmas bells 8:00 in the morning they would peel the descending bells for 10 minutes to celebrate the coming of Christmas morning. i so miss that sound.

behind the high stone walls of the convent used to be an orphanage. which turned into a school for disturbed children. one of the students set the bell tower on fire one night & it fell to the ground with a final muffled bong.

I didn't realize how much I missed the comforting sound of church bells, until we moved into our house & I discovered that st.Ferdinand's church still has bells that toll the hour & have "specials" for noon & high holidays.
the bell towers in Chicago, for the most part are all automated & recorded., or have their bells muted if they have bells in them at all.
yet another part of childhood gone the way of the wrecking ball. sigh

I just received this picture of my mother, taken at the old town art fair in the 1970's.

My god! how young she looks! I wonder if she knows she is beautiful?

this is the way I remember her most, from my childhood. big floppy hat & her big floppy purse, beads, fringe & sandals. holding her pinkie or her belt loop, to cross streets, to get there. We would go to the various art fairs, in & around Chicago In the summertime, we'd look & dance, eat art fair food, & gab with friends. My favorite was always the Lincoln street art fair, they would close off Lincoln ave. between Beldon & Webster & throw the party of the year! there were buskers (people playing music behind their hats), wonderful art, face painting, water balloon fights in OZ park, & a band at either end of the street . We the children were allowed to run amok & the theater company would hold short attention span theater for the littles.

This is my mom today, still a free spirit!

Growing up on the north side of Chicago

Pat Winter's Gatherings blog, http://gatherings100.blogspot.com/

has inspired me to write a little about my childhood.

Now, I grew up on the north side of Chicago, I've lived here all my life & frankly can't imagine what I'd do anywhere else! I love this city. I've also lived on , the south side & now the west side ( I've moved around allot)

I grew up in an apartment, off the bleachers of Wrigley field in the 70's, when that part of Chicago had a horrible Gang problem.

The apartment building next door was a boarding house,that was constantly going up in flames, (so we got to know the local Firemen very well!)& We had prostitution going on 2 blocks to the north. While not the most idyllic of settings, it was lots of fun to run around the neighborhood.

We had trees to & garage roofs to climb on, not to mention the occasional roof to see a game. We had a lot next door to our first apartment in the neighborhood, to play baseball & basketball in it was covered in grey rocks so there was no sliding into first, let me tell you!

we had cars to park in the lot,during games but you had to get there before the real car parks would come in or you would only get a 1$ per car while they got 5$.

There was the ma& pa across the street to go to with our dimes & nickels, for penny candy, & snickers bars( still think there smaller than they were when i was a kid!) & the Yum,Yum doughnuts when we were flush with cash after parking cars.

Though I must say as much of a tomboy as I was, I still loved a good twirly dress & my saddle shoes. they were hand-me-downs from some cousin or another, I was so upset when I grew out of them.

I begged my mother for more, & she flatly refused. I remember her saying how much she hated hers & couldn't for the life of her understand, how anyone could like them, let alone want more!

I learned later of course that we couldn't have afforded new shoes even if she had the inclination to buy them for me.

I was, what was later to be known as, a Latch-Key -Kid. I let myself out of the house to go to school & let myself back in after school & got all my homework done & the non-cooking part of dinner ready for when my mom got home at 7pm.

She worked for an Art studio downtown doing something called

" Key line, Paste-up " It's when you take all the finished components of a magazine page, like the pictures, the descriptions & the letters or numbers, & arraigned them, according to the artists layup, so they make sense.

I loved to go with her on days she either, couldn't find or couldn't afford, a baby-sitter. We'd take the Howard"A" EL train to the Belmont stop & run over the bridge to the other side of the track, to catch the Loop's'B train, to the Chicago ave. stop & walk to her office building.

It was a big blocky building, nestled between the on & off ramps to the Kennedy expressway.

You could watch the cars wiz past the on & off the ramps & depending on the time of year, watch them slide back down! on the way home we might stop at the daemon dogs under the Fullerton "EL" stop for dinner & the Public library for a new book, as a treat.

Later We discovered that the Chicago Armory Held Polo matches in their indoor arena in the winters starting in October, going through April. Was I in heaven !

I was 7 & mom got a job as a groom right away because she knew some of the people, from her days working in Chicago stables in her child & young adulthood.

I got to be one of her Hot Walkers. ( OH, Raptures of JOY!)

That means I got to walk the horses around the Armory's basement after they get off the polo field, so their insides & tendons don't seize up on them. It's very bad for a horse to be put away hot & sweaty!

Later I learned how to be a groom & had my own string to look after!

I suppose a few child labour laws were broken, but I dare you to get between a 7 year old girl & a horse!

My mother raised me all by herself, & while I don't necessarily agree with all her decisions, I think she did a pretty good job under, not the best of, conditions.

My dad & she divorced when I was 2 & he took off. I saw him every 2 weeks. for our week end until I was about 7 or 8, when he told me, He couldn't come to visit me anymore. I did learn later he sued for custody & lost all his rights to see me. Again I can't agree with all the decisions, but I guess came out OK in the end.

I'm felling a bit Narcissistic so,I think that's about all I can write about myself for one day!