Christmas Day Traditions...

Each year we travel to Lindon Wood Farm to share the hospitality of Dennis and Jude. They prepare the courses...usually five...with incredible finesse. Jude, the stealth hosts makes sure our glasses are filled...and all kitchen magic is performed in silence. Dennis is gleeful and clapping can be heard when it turns out well...and choice words when there is a "challenge". It's a beautiful tradition, this gift of hearth and home for those of us who stay in the Village. I do so hope this takes you there

Click here to view these pictures larger

Christmas Eve....take a deep breath

Incredible gratitude as on this night we settle in at Butch and Nancy's house for Christmas Eve dinner. It's a night of relaxed comfort for those of us who have been rushing about with last minute errands. 

We usually show up in jeans and try desperately to find something festive and clean to pull on over top. 

The table, on the other hand, gets "gussied up" with Nancy's dream china and the Waterford champagne glasses we decided we couldn't live without. 

 








Mother's are always welcomed...and Momma Neese joins us once again.  A maternal presence, reminding us of tradition and sharing stories of their own.  That's the magic of Christmas...that which lingers in the "eves" of our mind...memories that grow brighter on this night of nights.  




Back in the kitchen, Butch fries oysters and creates a mosaic of color with "confetti" rice and fresh snow peas. I love this meal...when you least expect it a plate of country ham appears...just because it's Christmas..and in Virginia that means ham. The fruitcake...dark as night and now taking on a kick, is passed around one more time.
 

At last...it's Christmas, what's done is done...what's not...well, I guess it really didn't matter. 

May each of you...new friends and old, have a blessed day, surrounded by all that makes you joyful. For Christmas is so much more than a day...it is a promise.

Welcome to Candy Land...A Two-Bit-Teena Craft

All down-hill from here

Teena craft night is somewhat of an exaggeration.  While we mean well...it is usually an activity that has less to do with rocks, paper and scissors; and more to do with champagne, wine or beer.  I would say it is best described as organized chaos with all the usual chants and rants plus paper and glue.

 Last year it was all about Turkey-Tater-Tuesday and the crafting of centerpieces reminiscent of our second grade art project complete with russet potatoes, feathers cloth and pipe cleaners. (Did I mention VerDell was a second grade teacher and is most responsible for the organization of this event?)

All in all it is a time for the women to gather and create a memory or release stress prior to departing the Village to be with "real" family.  Lord knows some of us need some prep time for that.

You can never have too much candy...

Tonight's event is dear to VerDell's heart, I could tell as she assured us that second graders have been doing it without Exact-o knives for years and that there was no wrong turn.and no such thing as an ugly candy house.  Hummm....I shall let you judge that for yourself.  

Because all things change...Mr. Claude joined us this year and a good thing too, because that meant Bubba got to "cook" and use his master building skills to assist some who needed more support than others in crafting graham crackers and icing into an abode.

Myra takes the lead in construction with graham cracker siding working out just fine.  I might add she is mighty pleased for a Teena who usually balks at the idea of a "craft".  But there was shopping involved so she was rather content as the candy isle is never far away from...say....a Steinmart.

 La, with multiple cartons of every type of milk one might imagine went "Up on the Roof-Top...Click, Click, Click and did a fine job with those candy canes that that had been in Lisa's office since last year.

Note,  VerDell went with a "chocolate" exterior this year.  She continued to soothed us with her encouragement and assurance that "all candy is beautiful."

I, on the other hand, am not so sure this is working out as I imagined.  My peppermint bark door seems a little uninviting and I did have a little discomfort from the chili I had ingested at the Baked Tater bar.

So after years of rantin' and protestin' the "Candy Land" version of the Friendly Village is complete...and a fine...fine...neighborhood it is!  

The Holiday Edition of the Friendly Village

So let the season begin...the music of laughter, support and friendship, craftin a memory.

A special thank you to Bubba and VerDell for hostin' as we did make a terrible mess.  You are the best and fastest clean-up man alive.

It’s October in the Friendly Village and the active pace of summer is starting to wane. Back are the beautiful deep blue skies and the late afternoon shadows that grow longer as the sun makes its annual migration to the south. It is the season when this part of the world sheds its camouflage and reveals its contours and hidden secrets once again. Each year, we experience this transition as something new yet something comfortably familiar. It is a time for slowing down, reflecting, and savoring the joys of friendships and traditions.

It is fitting that Jene was born at this time of the year for her spirit is so much like the season – warm and genuine and constant and . . . reassuring. As we approach the beginning of this her Jubilee year, I have been thinking about the many memories that have accumulated over time, of how we have settled into a deep and abiding friendship over the course of almost 25 years that I would be lost without.

The fact is, with the passage of time, we often forget the origins of our friendships because they begin to feel as if they have always been with us. But in quieter moments I can still catch glimpses of a time when Jene was an unknown neighbor who lived at the end of the alley. Intriguing she was, what with her Z car and love of sunbathing in the back yard with Lynn Lloyd (ooh, don’t touch ‘cause you might get burned!). And then I can recall spotting her walking down the alley with a Pick of the Chick in one hand and some ‘taters in the other and, as if by magic, a couple of hours later the irresistible aroma of a grill and the sounds of gentle laughter would come wafting in my windows.

It was on just one of those days that I was invited to pass through an often unnoticed door into the magical world of Jene Ormond and the Friendly Village. And over the years, our lives and stories have woven together whether in the ‘hood or on Chili Beach or under the gentle rain of the Magic Mushroom or at Nurse and Zeb’s or Buckin’ham Palace. Places known to others by more mundane names but here reinvented with new names, new meanings, and new traditions. Places where Big Butt Magazine and paintin' bras and alley croquet and wild passion fruit and Rock-a-Hula and home grown weddin's and Fourth of July parking lot concerts and magic noodles and women’s legs so strong they could snap a man’s neck and Winks and a monkey named June Bug and Mr. Claude in a heavenly spotlight singing “Chances Are” while ridin’ an escalator have inhabited our imaginations and local yore for decades.

And I would not trade any of those memories for a king’s ransom because I have loved every minute of the journey and can’t wait to see where the ride takes us next.

So Happy Birthday, Miss Jene! It’s time to pull out your red wig and dancing shoes and head on over to Bubba’s Back Room where we’ll spin some Motown 45s, reprise the farewell tour of Fabulous Neons, and celebrate all that we have become and all that still awaits us!

With all the love,

Mr. Pat

Stronger

Bubba is a man of few words. He and Miss Jene are both powerful forces....kind of a rock meeting a hard place.  Jene is known for her power for healing.  Butch is known for speaking his mind.
One day Bubba had a whopper of a headache.  Jene just wanted to try to make him feel better with her healing touch.  Suddenly Jene's head started bleeding. Butch just looked at her and said, "My shit is stronger than your shit."

'Nuf said.

Okay...Bye-bye!

Supper Club used be a migratory group....each Memorial Day weekend and each Labor Day weekend we would make the journey to Chili Beach.  Members left at various times and in various vehicles....with each person hoping to be the first to arrive.  "Oh....I can leave on Friday evening!"  "I can leave Thursday after work!" "I'm going Wednesday morning."...yadda, yadda ,yadda.

I was never able to leave early as I worked for the public schools and was therefore not allowed to be absent before a holiday unless I was certified to be unconscious and near death at a local hospital.  I always had to leave on Friday after work.

And so it was that Bubba and I left Richmond on a Friday evening heading to Chili Beach to meet "the gang."  We stopped near Benson, North Carolina at the Ole South BBQ for dinner.  When we got back in the car......nothing....absolutely no sound...the car would not start.  Usually Bubba can fix most anything but apparently not this.  He was just stumped. This was in the ancient days .... after telegraphs but before cell phones.... so I went to nearest phone booth which happened to be in a Shoney's.  I called the AAA who promised they would send someone and then called the gang to say we would be a bit delayed.  Jene happened to answer the phone and after I explained the dilemma and she said simply, "Okay, bye-bye."   The manager of the Shoney's overheard the conversation and said, "Well sweetheart... let me just tell you, don't you let anyone around here fix your car.  These people are crooks."

After what seemed to be forever we noticed that everything around us was fixing to close. I journeyed back to the Shoney's to use the phone again.  When the manager saw me she said, "This isn't anyplace for you to be stranded.  Let me lock you up here in the restaurant overnight.  You can sleep on the floor or on one of the tables. You will be safe here."  Now I generally live with a certain amount of paranoia and  as Jene has been known to say....I am particular about the things I choose to fret over.  This seemed to be one of those things.  I phoned the cottage to give the group an update ..desperately hoping  that one of "my friends" would come to the rescue.  Again Jene answered the phone, listened politely and  said, "Okay...bye-bye."

Luckily before the waitress could round up tablecloths to use as blankets.....help arrived.... in the form of tow truck driven by an older gentleman with no teeth and his "rode hard and put up wet" girlfriend.  I sat on Butch's lap in the front seat of the truck for the journey to "the shop."

After a journey to the middle of nowhere we arrived...somewhere.  My only recollection is one light pole and a very angry dog.  Being complete idiots, we asked if there was someplace close by where we could rent a car. Well no....there wasn't.  The gentleman with no teeth offered to let us use his car for the evening and suggested a nearby hotel. 

It was a very kind gesture and I can't say I have ever seen another car quite like this.  Apparently in an effort to improve gas mileage and aerodynamics much of the actual car had been removed.  There was no backseat and very little flooring. Also oil seemed to have been sprinkled generously on everything  in an effort to increase viscosity.

We followed the kind gentleman's advice and arrived at the recommended hotel.  The glass on the office door was broken and the "Welcome" sign directed  us to a "Drive Through" window.  This was also broken and the lady behind the glass seemed to have barely survived a tumble down Mount Everest.  We had a short conversation through a small opening which involved details of a recent robbery and the presentation of our credit card. With key in hand we went to look for our room.

Sure that my dear friends were terribly worried I immediately called the cottage....related the long story of our journey....and the fact that we were apparently guests at the Bates Motel.  Again... Jene  listened politely and said in her sweetest voice "Okay....bye-bye." 

Using all the knowledge that I had gained from watching various cartoons as a child I somehow got Bubba to agree to help me pile all the available furniture in the room against the door.  ...just like you see in the movies and with that we went to bed. 

The morning brought sunshine and blue skies.  We made our way back to our car.  It seems the car blew a fuse.  The people at the shop were very kind and finally we were on our way. 

We expected to see our worried friends anxiously awaiting our arrival......but all that awaited us was an unlocked door and a note on the table.  "We are on the beach! Okay? Bye-bye!"

Well dear friend.....today you can look back at 59 years and just say "Okay bye-bye!"  The new decade will hold many new adventures....and I will always come when you call.....unless of course I am having margarita's or sitting on the beach.  

Love you girl!!

n

Good Things Come in Mini Packages

The Manager, Lurlene, and I were driving together toward a long summer weekend at Nurse and Zeb’s.  Whenever we’ve gone there, the house is crowded, and the crowd is chaotic and fun.  Nurse puts up with a lot from us, and is always gracious.  The weather there reminds me of the weather in the Buffalo area where I’m from:  glorious, cool summers, long, snowy winters, and plenty of wind.

On our way there, we stopped at my mother’s and stepfather’s.  Lurlene was impressed (as is everyone) with my stepfather’s carved working wooden locks modeled after old antique locks.  Each one has a spring mechanism, and a key (which he also carved) that opens the lock.

My mother’s four cats, two of whom stayed hidden, and two of whom were happy to see company, were topics of conversation, as was Busser and his “friend” Jimmy the stuffed monkey (about whom we need say nothing further).

My mother’s paintings, the subjects of which include her cats, were also on display.  The detail she painstakingly includes in her animal and human portraits is rare.  When I see a pet portrait from someone else, it usually looks hastily drawn in comparison.  In her teens in Buffalo, my mother was a student of Laszlo Szabo, an artist who almost never took on teenagers as students.  When her money for lessons ran out, he offered to continue teaching her for free.  She declined (she felt she should pay for the lessons), and now regrets not having continued her artistic training.  Others on the Sicilian side of her family have had renowned artistic careers.

After we left, we had a bite to eat at the Pink Cadillac and took photos posing with Humpty.  Then, on to Nurse and Zeb’s and our crazy weekend of fun.

As we got back on the interstate, we passed a field with what appeared to be a lot of small cattle.  I said, “Maybe they’re miniature cows!”  My mother lives near a large Horse Center and I once went to a miniature horse show there.  They’re so cute; it would be fun to have one in the backyard... if I had a backyard.  So I figured, if there could be miniature horses, then why not miniature cows?

Well, Lurlene could not believe what she had heard.  She made fun of me all weekend, believing I had displayed a truly scatter-brained moment... which I have been known to do.   (Once, when I was in high school, there was a fly on my bedroom window.  I wanted to kill the fly and thought it would be perfectly reasonable to hit with a book... on the window!  It didn’t occur to me until afterward that the window would break.)  Miniature cows!  Who ever heard of such a thing!

Now, keep in mind that this was before the days when everyone takes the internet with them everywhere they go.  So there was no way to prove it while we were there.  But when we got back home, I looked it up on the internet and discovered that there are indeed miniature cows, and they are especially prevalent in Virginia and North Carolina.  I couldn’t wait to tell Lurlene!  Someone ended up eating crow... oops, I mean eating petite filet mignon, and it wasn’t me!

Happy Birthday,

Paul