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Savannah Deville’s
May 7, 2009
Today I had a grand 53 or was it a 54 block walk looking for things.Did I find anything? Of course not.People are not buying so they are not donating either so things are really grim.Tomorrow it’s an estate sale and then a 4 mile walk to and fro to the Coliseum flea market.Deesperate times require desperate measures.
Most time there are no perks and it is just one long dusty walk with me and my silver cart named Leopold.
Until today,I got to walk past Bakesale Betty’s on the corner of 51st and Telegraph.It does not matter if it is pouring rain or the winds are hurricane strength there is always a line up out the door and down the street past all the ironing boards and chairs she has out there to eat on like tiny picnic tables.
Bakesale Betty was founded by Alison Barakat in January 2002. Alison moved to the Bay Area from Australia in 2000 and cooked at Chez Panisse Cafe for 3 years.
There is NO menu.Just one giant white poster board that they HAND write what’s for ‘eatin’ every day.The staple is the chicken sandwich that is like no other.Chicken pot pie and thats about it except the desserts.
Betty’s Banana Bread
Moist and delicious made with fresh bananas and honey.
Betty’s Brownies
Fudgey and delicious, Betty’s Brownies are classic.
Betty’s Famous Scones
Apricot almond, lemon raisin, and pear ginger scones.
Betty’s Ginger Cookies
Spicy and chewy with chunks of crystallized Australian ginger.
Betty’s Lemon Bars
Made wih fresh lemons.. A delicious buttery crust is perfect with the tart, lemony…
Betty’s Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
A buttery cookie with plump, juicy raisins, and walnuts. Often referred to as the best Oatmeal Raisin Cookies.
Betty’s Vanilla Shortcakes
Tender classic vanilla shortcakes wonderful with whipped cream and fresh berries.
So are you still with me? I know you have your hand in some cookie jar..:) I want to.:)
So I had to write about this because I have celiac disease and I have to get it out of my system.Celiac Disease = No flour, no Gluten.. no fun… But I love Betty’s and went there once and ate the chicken and the coleslaw.I will remember the experience for the rest of my life.Yes, it was that profound !!!
So,back to today ,and I am walking down 51st and quickly approaching Betty’s.I see her and one of her co workers bringing in the supplies through the back door.Boxes and boxes of fresh strawberries,huge bags of flour,and my stomach starts churning and I know I cannot eat it.I try to close my eyes,I walk faster,I increase the speed and then it happens. Because I am not watching I bump into a patron sitting at one of the ironing boards.I look down and what do I see and smell.A hot Bakesale Betty’s vanilla shortbread ,tons of fresh sliced strawberries and a HUGE dollop of creme fraiche.
I walk faster now, I am screaming inside.It was THE famous strawberry shortcake.She does not make it all year long only when the strawberries are fresh.The aroma of chicken sandwiches and fresh lemonade circle my head and all I want to do is yell. Darn you Betty, Darn you for making stuff that everyone loves .And I cannot eat hahaha…
What can I do? How can I get this longing for Betty out of my system?
I know what I can do..I can write a short story and add links to Bettys food to make everyone else hungry..:).Seeing 99% of the people on my mailing list will not be able to eat it either will make me feel better and get the longing for Betty out of my head..:) Enjoy!! And may the shortcake be with you..:)
THE CHICKEN SANDWICH
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeVcRheC70E
THE SHORTCAKE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeElO9bGF8M&feature=related
THE BAKESALE BETTYS PATRON
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4SEij5ZQAk&feature=related
LINDA SECCASPINA
SAVANNAH DEVILLES
May 3, 2009
You were a good man Stanley Mellon
Two months ago some of you will remember I found this man who was surrounded with about 30 boxes of junk at The Coliseum flea market.It obviously didnt belong to the man or his family as he said it was all thrown out on the street.He was selling it all for a buck a piece and I think I bought 30 pieces that day.Videos,books,mysterious rare french books and an old green cardboard filing box full of personal correspndence.
I sold most of the things that week but the correspondence box just sat around and around.I dont know why ,but I just couldnt bring myself to read all the letters in there.I knew when I got home by doing some research that the items had belonged to a History professor called Stanley Mellon.He had written a book called The Political Uses of History :A Study of Historians in the French Revolution (1958).From reading some of his received correspondence he was a master at French Restoration History.He had taught at Yale,UIC etc and locally and was renowned by historians everywhere.I also know he had led a very sad life.Yes ,he had many many people that loved him and wrote him,but by the tone of the letters he was a recluse and died alone.The fact that the letters all stopped in the mid 70’s was a giant clue.He had died last September of 2009.
So I researched more on the web and in the last month another professor had written a 7 page obituary on him obviously out of the great respect he had for him.He had basically wrote everything I had thought of the man and I didnt know him.He wrote that in later years Mr Mellon was jaded with new students that didnt seem to care and if any University had to send someone to talk about the French restoration they called and asked Stanley to do it.Yale University had sought him out to teach after his first book and for years he had a manuscript on Guyizot that he just could not seem to hand it in for publication although it was a masterpiece according to friends.
It broke my heart that this wonderful man who had many letters in there from friends and students asking him to write letter of reccomendations for them at various Universities was basically alone when he died.He had so many friends that loved and worshipped him,yet he chose to be alone.He had even written a note to a woman he loved but did not wnat her to know and he said it would remain in his file.
So what becomes of our ’stuff’??
I asked myself that question one day after the ‘ great fire’ at my former home.I was sitting in front of boxes and boxes of damaged and burnt offerings in the restoration warehouse.Years of collecting were now meaningless.My family was safe and that is all I really cared about.If I so wanted I could replace the damaged collections,but I could never replace the lives of my family.So after that day of sitting there for hours and pondering I stopped collecting.
What became a decision point that day was looking at each item and asking myself if I was going to wake up in the middle of the night missing it. Twenty four hours later and 12 years later I do not miss anything.I used to own two rooms of clothes with 67 Victoria Secret bras and 43 pairs of shoes.Now I own two pairs of black cargo pants,one pair of jeans,six camisoles,socks ,underwear, and one dress.I had collections of dolls and Royal Doultons that would boggle the mind.Friends back home wonder what happened to me and why I dress so boring now and why I just do not seem to want anything.At some point in life for some you decide what is important and that you just do not need the baggage anymore.
How many U Hauls of friends or relatives have you seen at ‘passed’ loved ones full of stuff bing pitched to go in the dumpster. Saving a bunch of stuff hardly seems worthwhile knowing your kids are gonna send them to the Thrift Store or in this case a parking lot at the flea market.As someone on the web wrote that his theory is that collecting stuff is like trying to find anchors to keep you from slipping toward death. The leaving-something-behind theory. “He never did much with his life, but he left a lotta paperwork and trinkets in shoe boxes under his bed. He or she was a good man or woman”
My friend Mindy and I delivered a bookcase once to a woman on Derby Street.To possibly explain this in text is impossible but the images Im sure have scarred Mindy and my mind for the rest of our lifetime..:)
This woman collected books.I am not talking about 100 books nor a 1000 books.She had 1000’s and 1000’s of books everywhere.On the ceiling on the floor stacked 6 feet high,under the floor boards,anywhere there was an empty space there were books.If you know the weather here, its foggy and damp, so imagine years and years of books sitting around and getting wetter and wetter.To help make the books even age faster there were cats.Not to the point that Big and Little Edie Boyle from Grey Gardens had,but to the point that they had urinated on everything so much the books were fermenting.I believe you do not need a scratch n sniff card to understand the smell.:) To make matters worse this woman was asking if we thought kitty litter would take the smell out so she could sell them on Amazon.But, by looking at the house from the outside no one would know what was going on in there.Can you imagine her family having to clean up this mess after she had passed? I tell you this woman was really anchored down 
So not everyone will agree with me I know that.People like to collect for their enjoyment or their needs.So to all those that have their high school report card or their corsage from their prom.Or even those that have kept the candle from their 21st or 50th birthday I salute you..You are a good woman or man..:)
Linda Seccaspina
Savannah Devilles
April 17, 2009
The story of Snuffles the bear
Once upon a time , many moons ago I met a lovely three foot plush white bear named Snuffles.I had no idea what he was or what he was worth but saw he had a FAO SCHWARTZ and GUND hang tag so I thought he might be worth ten dollars at least so I lifted him carefully into my arms.
It was pouring outside that day so the lady at Goodwill helped me fit him into a huge garbage bag and I put him into another bag in my cart and hauled him all around San Francisco that day looking for things to sell.He got home quite dry and when I researched him I saw he was worth more than ten dollars ..maybe fifty?
Within one hour bidding had started and email questions started flooding in.
‘Was it nose worn ?”
“Are your sure he is that tall ?”
‘Does he smell?”
Snuffles went up to $135.00 that day and stayed that price give or take a few pennies for 6 days.On the seventh day every time I looked, the price was getting higher and higher. I go visit my sons every year and it seems that every year there is some sort of miracle that happens that pays for my ticket.Snuffles was definitely the summer miracle that year.
When Snuffles closed at almost 600 dollars the final day I cried. He would always be my miracle bear. The man that bought him lived in Los Angeles and I sprang for ‘over night’ shipping.He was thrilled to have Snuffles.So thrilled he sold it on the Internet for close to 3000 dollars a few weeks later.
My son was upset.He said that I had settled for too low a price. I had told him I ,for one had no idea how much he would go for but was very happy with the price. I asked him who was paying for the air flight to go there.I asked him who was paying for his birthday present.I laughed and started screaming ,
“Why Snuffles the bear of course ” :).We both laughed.
Years have passed and that particular Snuffles has almost doubled in price.
Snuffles was designed in 1980 by Rita Raiffe who, at the time, led the GUND company with her husband Herbert. She was inspired by the shape of a beautiful crescent moon in the sky, and designed a happy bear looking up at the moon. Snuffles debuted in 1981 is now the oldest bear in Gund’s product line. The initial models were 12-inch tall models available in brown or white.
Snuffles has been produced in a number of sizes and colors. Most are between four inches and three feet tall. The available colors have included dark and light brown, blue, pink, as well as rare green and yellow versions. In addition to the traditional teddy bear, Gund has made Snuffles into rattles, puppets and slippers. Some seasonal versions have been released. Most of the colored bears have a white snout, ears, and a white patch on their belly. There has been a variety of fur types made over the years including fur, velour, and terry cloth.
Now I look for them all the time as Snuffles will always be my miracle bear.,:)
This story was written for Boris who bought a Hanukkah Snuffles bear from me this week. His love for Snuffles has allowed him to create a whole website for Snuffles and will soon move all his Snuffles teddy bear collection to Germany with him.
May the GUND be with you.
Linda Seccaspina
Savannah Devilles
copyright 2009
April 15, 2009
My middle name is Chatty
Today I was coming home from the city and I was sitting on Bart idling my time watching two couples talking about a whole lot of nothing.One of the couples was just chatting up a storm and as soon as the other couple got off at Powell Street the couple looked at each other like they had lost a best friend.
All of a sudden the husband started looking around frantically for someone to talk to and he struck up a conversation with two young hip hop kids eating something they were not supposed to be eating on the subway as per the signs all around.I thought he was going to tell them they couldn’t eat on Bart but instead he asked them what they were eating.I almost fell on the ground that someone would be that desperate to make small talk.He immediately told the kids they didn’t have a sandwich like that in Washington state.The kids asked them if they were from some town in Washington they knew and he told them,
“Oh noooooooo way more north than that.We are on the Canadian border”
A light bulb immediately went off in my head.They were acting like Canadians.They were being ‘chatty’…:)They had smelled Canadian air living on the border and had come down with ‘chattiness”.They were also accenting their vowels when they spoke. Canadians draw out the vowel sounds in words and emphasize them more than Americans do. They speak slower than Americans usually do and say their vowel sounds as though there are two or three of the given vowel in a word instead of just one. They rounded their “o’s” and flattened their “a’s” and for one second I thought I was back in Canada sitting in Tim Horton’s where people sit there for hours and are really chatty.:)
I, along with most Canadians am ‘chatty”.We Canucks like to talk and know everyone elses business because we “care”.I really enjoy people and can start talking to a total stranger like I have known them for years.I have some life long friends that I met while I was being chatty.I think being chatty is hereditary in Canada and in Britain too.My parents were ‘chatters’ my grandparents were ‘chatters’ and the lineage carries on.
My youngest son is like his father.He can carry on a great conversation but will not initiate it.My oldest son has inherited some of my chatting genes,but while he carries out that smile and those stories to total strangers he still asks me sometimes if I ever shut up. Schuyleur,just enjoy the blood lines..:)Sons,being chatty won’t really solve world hunger or global warming but it is an art as far as I am concerned.
I will never ever change.No matter if someone knees me or tells me to move along , the chattering will never stop.It took me almost four years when I moved to this neighbourhood to get people to start talking to me,and boy was I persistent My grandmother once told me that if you did not talk to people you would never learn anything.She was totally right and that is why I will forever be…..
A walking talking chatting encyclopedia.:)
Meanwhile next stop the Washington State couple get out and say excuse me to everyone even though people are not in their way.Oh my goodness they caught the Canadian politeness too.If the Canadians are known for anything other than their great goal tending, it’s their politeness.Of course the husband was still chatting to anyone who would listen telling one chap he looked like Elvis.The guy looked at him like he was crazy and said,
“Presley??” “You have to be kidding??”
Mr Washington State looked really oddly at the man and said,
” Presley?? No ,not Elvis Presley”
“You look like Elvis Stojko the Canadian figure skater”
I just sat there laughing my Canadian born head off..:).Watch out San Francisco some “Americanadians” are in town and are going to chat your ears off.
Linda Seccaspina
Savannah Devilles
April 12, 2009
Today I was looking for something on the Internet I came across something that just baffled the mind.Who knew fifty years later old social columns would be posted on line.Obviously someone who was into genealogy ,or had way too much time on their hands has posted years and years of pages of a small local paper we had back in the Eastern Townships in Quebec, Canada called The News and Eastern Townships Advocate.
Most newspapers had a column for residents to submit local news that might be of interest to others. This would often include such tidbits on area residents as birthday announcements, illnesses, job promotions, wedding announcements, visitors to the community, and other news of a more personal nature like who was where and when and why.To sum it all up it gave people something to talk about from week to week.
Today, I was mesmerized and read years of the paper on line.
I even verified today that I had graduated from Grade 3.There it was in bold print and I jumped up and down and exclaimed,
“Look I graduated from Grade 3 !!”
“There is my name !! ”
Of course other names of fellow students were there and I remembered each one as I read their names.Dickie Miner will always be the kid I remember the most with the flaming red hair that was sheared into a Mohawk as he loved the wrestler LITTLE BEAVER.Of course he had to be escorted to school most times by his father as the kids made so much fun of him.:)Or Bobby Perkins the smart kid.Or Arnel Williams (changed the name to protect him hahah) the kid that never took a bath and was a dead ringer for Pigpen from Peanuts.
What also caught my eyes from the social column from the late 50’s paper were the following words:
“Mr and Mrs Arthur Knight with their little girls, Linda and Robin spent a weeks holiday in Montreal.”
Me, being Linda, marvel at age 57 that I was formerly “little”.Seems like it never happened and every day when more things fall apart on me like in the movie Death Becomes Her ,it feels like it might be someone else.Seeing my parents nor Robin are no longer here,I wonder if they existed too sometimes.What the paper never stated was my mother was in the Darlington Rehabilitation Centre for years and years and we were probably in Montreal staying with my grandfather while she was under going some new process trying to get her to walk again.She became paralyzed from the waist down one New Years Eve and never walked again.No matter what great master mind they brought in, they were just baffled at her condition.She died at age 34 with a listed “heart attack” as the cause of death as they didn’t want us to have to explain that no one knew what she died from.
The mystery was solved when my sister died in 1997 at age 40.It was finally pieced together that my mother had lymphoma on the spine and my sister died from lymphoma also.It is hard to detect now. so in the 50’s and 60’s they had no clue what they were dealing with.So yes, little Linda and Robin vacationed in Montreal.They vacationed in the hospital all that week and sat on chairs for a very long time waiting for my mother to come down as anyone under the age of 16 was not allowed anywhere above the reception area.
There was a full article about the wedding shower of our next door neighbour Verna Wilson.It explained in detail about each gift and how people fawned over the hand painted glasses and other things.I had watched my mother a talented pianist and artist meticulously paint each glass and each one was a work of art.I had not thought about them until I read about it today.Of course it was mentioned that her dog Tippy and her bird Budge had given her a china puppy.I remember the puppy well,I broke it during the party.Of course that was never mentioned..:)
Then I read about how The Brownies closed their season of 1959 with a doll exhibition at the church hall.If you remember I have written about the doll show and how I was ratted on by Mrs Wilson,same mother of the bride mentioned above that my mother had mostly sewn the dress for my Miss Revlon doll.Needless to say the paper said that Judy Clough and Linda Lee Pratt won out of the 30 entries.There was a picture of each girl with their doll and I learned a lesson that day to finish what you start.What I most remember about that day (and was in the adjoining article) was my father being amazed that television signals were finally coming from Newfoundland to Nova Scotia and my father said that he hoped the residents of Newfoundland would be able to see the Queen’s address on Christmas Day. God Bless the Queen..:)He was telling us that ( or yelling it) as he was standing precariously on the peak of the roof of the house installing a TV Antenna with the neighbour screaming at him that he was going to break a leg.
On January 21st 1959 it was written in The Advocate that my mother had a shower for Mrs Wilson’s daughter in law.Elaborate adjectives were used for all the decorations my mother made and there was a complete list of all the women that attended.Every mother of every childhood friend I ever had was listed.Of course there was a parasol cake.If I remember correctly the “cakes du jour” were either a parasol or a swan.There was either one or the other at every party as Woman’s Day Magazine had probably had a picture essay on how to do it at some point.
It was also mentioned that all the ladies were all accompanied by their children for whom entertainment was arranged.Yes it was Sparkey the Clown from the local Legion.Sparkey liked to have a good time and alcohol and smoking were his perks.If I remember correctly one of the fancy paper table cloths caught on fire when Sparkey tried to hide a cigarette under the table.My father was summoned from his business and I don’t believe Sparky ever appeared again outside Legion functions.
I could go on and on about all the comings and goings,but my favourite entry on July 9th ,1959 was:
Mr and Mrs Murray Wallet and their children Sheila and Gary spent a week at their summer cottage in Iron Hill.
This is what I will always remember until the day I die.Their cottage standing there in all it’s glory hidden partially by the lilac trees and there isn’t a week that does not go by that I don’t think of it.
Wonderful memories of walking along the stream that came down from the top of the mountain and the abandoned shack that stood beside it up the road.Their swimming hole that was more a mud hole and how we made evening gloves on our arms with the mud while we swam.
Toasting marshmallows and hot dogs in a bonfire by the stream late at night while the fireflies buzzed around us.Having to shake the hose that ran up the hill to the underground water source when the water flow slowed and unsure if a bear was going to pop out..:) Well ,that was what her Dad kept telling me..:) Finally sitting inside sipping cocoa and laughing at stories while the rain pounded on the tin roof.
So the Social Columns of days gone by did give some details of what went on in their towns and now it seems to be documented for life.But, it never told the full story and as my favourite late story teller Paul Harvey said,
“and now you know the rest of the story”
Linda Seccaspina
Savannah Devilles
April 10, 2009
Well, I looked at my last entry and I realize I have not written anything in months.Overwhelmed at trying to keep afloat in this economy will do it to you.Or the menopause:)
I used to try to keep the fountain of youth spraying upwards for years.Was it being afraid of being old or would people not like the real me? I honestly think its the latter.In the last decade I have become myself and am finally happy to be who I am.Some people seek the old flamboyant Linda sometimes ,but she left the building years ago.Or she finally booted that other person out for good because she likes who she is now and no longer needs the 43 pairs of shoes and the 67 bras.
So last Saturday I saw a few couples my age or a tad younger still dressed up like they were going to a concert at The Fillmore decades ago.Tatoos,piercings wild clothes and I looked at Steve and we both started to giggle.Did they honestly still need that attention ? Had they still not found self love and appreciation?
We have someone in the building like that and by the looks of it Tony is never going to grow up.
Tony is in his early 40’s and lives on the side of this building.A huge blessing ,as his ‘weekend” music sometimes just empowers the building.He has young kids from the local Punk Rock Club just idolize him and they frequently come over and crash at his place.Every month he gets his Mohawk redone and it stands proud and tall on top of his head in varying colours of purple and blue.When his hair is not ‘done up” he keeps a hood over his head almost like a monk and walks with his head down. The other day he was going through magazines outside my door and I said hello and realized that he was looking more and more like The Marquis de Sade facially speaking every day.In other words the poor man is not aging well
Sometimes,when his music is shaking the building I go on and on about him.The police dont care as they are too busy with violent criminals.The landlord doesnt care about him as tenants have come and gone because of his noise and he is still here.I secretly think he belongs to one of the building owners and the family has just stuck him here to age and ferment.In any case I think I keep talking about him as I feel sorry for him knowing this guy is never going to change.He is locked away in a time warp just like those other people and I was .
We can go from three to four weeks,sometimes five without a sound coming from his area.Then all of a sudden from being a 1 in silence and noise we are all esculated over the richter scale to a zillion decibles and I can sit there and feel my chair vibrate from the sound.Sometimes 30 or 40 invites will also dance and party and the rumble and shaking from the Doc Martens on their feet would erupt the San Andres fault.
We both grin and bear the sound like everyone else until it gets to be around one am.Then Steve goes off the Richter scale himself and gets up and goes on a crusade to shut the music down. Others have tried ,but no one seems to get through to Tony but Steve.
Steve will march down the hall to Tony’s unit with the trail of smoke behind him.I hear monstrous bangs on the door for about ten minutes.
Then Steve gets even angrier and goes outside to Tony’s front door and the banging continues.You can hear Steve scream TONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY all the way down the block.It is kind of funny actually because it seems like its a game to Tony to see how long he can keep him banging.All of a sudden the music will stop and I hear Tony and Steve conversing.He ends up turning it down and I am sure the rest of the tenants sigh with relief.
Last Saturday the cat and mouse game continued. One am and Steve is banging and banging and Tony isnt answering.
Steve told me he had noticed that Tony had an extension cord out the door and plugged into the hall.He immediately unplugged it and the music stopped with a roar.I can imagine Steve was at that point laughing having got the better of Tony.
Tony comes out and the conversation goes like this:
“Heh, man what are you doing?”
“Tony, it’s one am,people are trying to sleep”
“Come on man its Friday night’
“Tony ,the music is too loud,it’s one am and for heavens sake you were playing Peter Gabriel an hour ago” (thats a first as its hardcore punk usually)
“Oh, I see ,I play something you like and you don’t complain then”
“Ahh, no, I don’t care for Peter Gabriel”
“Okay man,I will turn it down”
And so he did that night, and everyone was able to finally go to sleep.
The next day Tony saw Steve and said,
“I’m really sorry man ,I really am” and Steve said he kept apologizing.
I honestly think he likes Steve and I told him he should give Tony some of his music as a good neighburly gesture and he might have some sort of “Eliza Doolittle” (My fair lady) effect on him.
Steve said,
“Yeah at least if its decent music I won’t mind so much.” “Plus he told me the next time the music is loud to just to open the door and come one in and tell him”
I think Tony likes him as Sally Field said “he really likes him”.
Henry Higgins would be proud.
Linda
Savannah Devilles
January 21, 2009
Today was Mitchell Crams wake back in Carleton Place.He was 23 years old and a friend of my sons.I remember these kids when they were but wee peapods shuffling down the ice wobbling on their sometimes too big hockey skates.It feels like yesterday.
Mitch Cram died last Friday night at the age of 23.Driving alone on the Ashton back road he hit black ice and rolled three times and was thrown out of the car.Today Wednesday,it is almost a week later and I cannot stop thinking about it.Thinking what every mother would think.It could have been my son.Instead it is Ed and Sandra’s son and I would give anything to give them their son back.Anything to give Cassandra her boyfriend back.Anything to give Jonathan, Adrian and Nicholas their brother back.But I can’t and I mourn for their loss 3000 miles away.
My friend Maureen went to see them the other night and she felt the same way.Her son Daniel like me was looking at the picture of his car on the internet and was wondering if it hurt to die.Did his friend Mitch suffer in the accident? All he could think about, like me, was that he did not want Mitch to be in pain and have to die in the cold and the snow alone.
Not all deaths are painful except for those of us that are left behind to deal with the loss and that is more emotional pain, real enough but not deadly. Try to remember that pain usually sets in hours after the trauma of injury and gets more painful before it gets better. There have even been people who did not know they had been shot until it was pointed out to them.I can contest to that living in the hood..:)The shock of seeing the wound, blood, etc, is so surprising that once noticed the pain sets in immediately. Strange the way the brain works. Death, in and of itself, isn’t painful, its the injury that brings about death that hurts.
It didn’t hurt to be born (well as a mom I can argue that one) so I do not think it hurts to die.I am trying to reasure myself Mitch did not feel any pain.I just know he was scooped up by angels and he is all looking down at us now from heaven,telling us all not to be sad.I know that is so cliche,but I can bet my bottom dollar he is.
God rest his soul and prayers for his family.
Linda
January 7, 2009
MOVE OVER JIMMY I FOUND MY HAZE AND ITS PINK
For 2009 I wanted nothing more than a drama free life. I think they honestly should have staked a bet in Vegas for this wish I wanted.I think it lasted just a tad past 26.5 hours.
It has been raining,it has been bitterly cold and I was having a hard time finding stuff to sell.The cart finally died and the three wheels left spinning out of four became two.A few irate customers were angry that their Cd’s were a few days late as the USPS had bad weather to contend with,but eventually did show up of course.I wish people would understand if I could possible move my tired menopausal body all over America like Wonder Woman to personally deliver this stuff I would.I mean I would give anything to do that.Bottom line is I have to depend on the postal service to get it there.Plus ,I think my days of wearing a Wonder Woman costume are over.:)
As the days progressed,some friends became sick,some have broken hearts,some are being layed off.I being, Linda,take everything on personally.That is the way I am and I will die this way.I, unlike Clark Gable give a darn.A BIG darn.
Every day seemed to get worse.Things kept piling on top of each other and I was just beside myself.
Until today.
I found hope today.
I found the same hope Charlie Brown did in Charlie Brown’s Christmas.I kid you not.
One of my friends had told me her daughter had always wanted a hot pink Christmas tree .She had found lights on sale at Walgreen’s and said that would have to do.
This morning pushing my cart up to the Post Office I saw this bright thing glistening in the sun on the edge of the sidewalk.It couldn’t be,but it was.
There standing in one of the first sunny day we have had was a 36 inch brand new tinsel hot pink Christmas tree that some one had thrown out.The garbage men were coming towards me fast so I grabbed it and stuck it in my cart quickly.I mean what are the chances of this happening? More odds than having a drama free 2009? I think so.
I had to go downtown and to the city so it meant I had to haul it around all day.No problem it made me smile.It made other people smile seeing it stick out of the cart bag.It was almost like God was playing a little practical joke on me.Like “cmon cheer up,other people are worse off than you”.Smile why don’t ya??? I realize we all don’t agree on higher powers and whatever you believe in you just go for it ,that makes me happy.But, myself ,personally I believe it came from my higher power ,God. He has done all sorts of amazing things so why not ship down a pink Christmas tree to cheer me up and maybe make my friend smile ?
I swear the minute I saw that Christmas tree my mood changed.
Things are really tough out there now.People are hurting and just do not know what to do anymore.We need to believe things will get better.My inspiration was a hot pink Christmas tree today.All I could think of was Linus talking about Charlie Browns poor little tree..
Linus:
“I never thought it was such a bad little tree.” (wrapping his blanket around the base of the trunk)
“It’s not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love. ”
And that is all I needed today was just a little love..Pass it on.
Linda Seccaspina
copyright 2009
Savannah Devilles
December 28, 2008
Today I heard that Woolworths was going to drop down the black hole of retail at the end of the month in the UK.Granted the ones in Canada closed first years ago and then the ones in the US followed suit a few years later but I do not think anyone does not have at least one great memory of Woolworth’s
I bought my first black Lady Jane eyeliner and mascara there that had more alcohol content than a an expensive martini in the 60’s.Yes it burned my eyes but looked great with the orange, red, pink or white lipstick they had.Oh the horrors of having only four shades to pick from, but we thought it was great.A few years later I would buy my first pair of pantyhose to go with my mini skirts relieved that I would no longer have to wear garter belts and hose.
Fales eyelashes,scarves,umbrellas or a cold drink at a moments notice.Woolworths had it all.How many kids put a nickle in the bronco pony and rocked on it for about 2.5 minutes? Then there was Santa in December who sat in the toy section on a red velvet covered wooden chair. He was not a deluxe Santa like the department stores,but a skinny Santa with a large Woolworths pillow packed under his suit and smelled of one too many cigarettes or an occasional beer.But he was Santa and king of the toy department where they had hundreds of colouring books , pale pink plastic dolls and teddy bears filled with straw.
The thing I will always remember about Woolworth’s was their counter lunch bar.My grandmother and I would go to Montreal to buy her wigs for her sparse head of hair and we would always go there for lunch.Kresge’s would have booths but Woolworth’s would have the rows of chairs around U shaped counters.The waitresses were about skinny as Santa and some of them tapped their pencil on the order book while you went through their menu to order.
I always got the same thing.The turkey dinner with one scoop of potatoes ,a couple pieces of turkey with dressing underneath and gravy on top and of course some canned green beans on the side.Then for dessert we would each have a slice of one of their layer cakes that graced the glass containers on the counters.It was such a treat and there was always a roar of conversation and men flipping their newspapers.
The thing I will always remember about Woolworths was something I can still see in technicolour today even at the age of 57.I used to go to the small local one after school every day to look at the toys on the way home.I was about 6.5 years old and the lady with white hair who lived across the street from us used to work in the toy department and shook her head at me as I touched everything.
It was an ordinary day, and the sun was shining..I fondled the toys and was just about to go home when I needed to use the restroom badly.I just couldn’t hold it and there in the middle of the toy section at approximately 3:40 pm that day I peed my pants all over the floor.I saw the lady with the white hair go into a closet to get a mop and shake her head and headed towards me quickly.
I ran out of there faster than a speeding bullet, and never darkened their doors again for at least a year.I can still see it frame by frame to this day.
So people moved on.They bought cell phones and plasma TVS and Woolworths just never grew with the time.People didnt need their turkey dinners anymore as they had fast food.No one wanted memories anymore,they had moved on to Walmart.Children had the internet and webkins and no longer needed to ride the Bronco Pony machine.
So where do our memories come from now? Will the next generation recall the day they got a great deal at the Circuit City that was closing down? Or will they recant years later to their grandchildren about the great Super Nachos that Taco Bell has added to the menu last month? I think, from now on everyone should write their memories down for I fear memories are slowly going down the same black hole as Woolworth’s.And there is no coming back.
Linda Seccaspina
copyright 2008
SAVANNAH DEVILLES
December 5, 2008
I realize times are tough and money is scarce ,I truly realize that being one the zillions that are affected.
BUT,there is just no reason to be mean. According to my friend Katie in Wisconsin meanness has arrived there too.In fact it has arrived everywhere and it is catching faster than a speeding light with no known Walgreen’s ‘flu shot’ for it..:)
To me there is just no reason to be mean to people.Where is that Christmas spirit folks? In fact let’s forget Christmas, where is your compassion to your fellow man?
Yesterday I filed a non paying bidder form on EBay for someone that had a ONE feedback and had not paid in 14 days,and had heard anything from her.
Within 5 minutes,yes 5 minutes, she replied to the claim saying I was an IMPATIENT SELLER and all the rest of the nasty message was in “caps” too.That she had no credit card and she would have to pay with a money order sometime.SOMETIME? IMPATIENT? I wrote a very kind email back saying ‘what was what’.She replied within 5 minutes saying she usually took care of things faster than that.FASTER than what?? Your other lone sale?
For you my dear I have a recipe for you.Enjoy !
**********************************************************************
THE IMPATIENT PERSON COOKY RECIPE
Ingredients
1 cup butter unsalted, softened
8 ounces cream cheese softened
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 each egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups flour, all-purpose
1 teaspoon baking powder
Directions
1. Cream butter and cream cheese in large mixer bowl. Beat in sugar until smooth. Beat in egg and vanilla. Stir in flour and baking powder. Chill several hours.
2. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Roll dough into small balls. Place on ungreased cookie sheet. Flatten with a glass that has been dipped in vanilla sugar (sugar in which you have stored a vanilla bean) or plain sugar.
3. Bake 10 to 15 minutes, until the edges are lightly browned. Cool on wire racks.
*******************************************************************
Then before I left yesterday that MTV show MY SWEET SIXTEEN was on and I just could not believe the stuff coming out of the TV box.
Sixteen year old ‘party girl” wants a Mercedes SUV for her gift and nothing else.At her 1000 plus person party a beautiful Toyota SUV rolls up for her.She starts screaming at her mother that she does not want it, and to take it away.My mouth dropped as her friends were laughing at her because she got a Toyota.She started screaming obscenities at her mother when lo and behold the Mercedes SUV with rhinestone encrusted Mercedes logo pulls up.They had duped her.Sixteen ? SUV ? Mercedes?
Shaking my head I leave to go look for things with my three wheeled cart.
I arrive at my destination and fold my cart (actually its so broken I practically have to jump on it to fold) and hand the folded up cart and bag to the 22 year old ‘dude’ that is looking after the “check ins” at the local music store.He shoots me a look much like a participant from MY SWEET SIXTEEN and says VERY annoyed at me,
“You want to check in all of this in?”
I just wanted to blurt out,
“No my SUV is parked outside let me just bring that in too ”
So last night while I worked I wondered why people were so mean sometimes especially during the holiday season.
Then I had a news flash.
If you are a SEINFELD fan you know George’s mean father did not celebrate Christmas. In the original “Seinfeld” rendering, broadcast Dec. 18, 1997, Festivus was invented by Frank Costanza (played by Jerry Stiller) as a “holiday for the rest of us.” Having waged a department store tug-of-war with a fellow shopper, Frank went bah, humbug on Christmas and began his own holiday tradition. Its rituals came to include an aluminum pole in place of a tree, a public listing of all your relatives’ disappointing habits, and a wrestling match with the head of household, not deemed over until someone cried “Uncle.”
Now, many people celebrate Festivus in addition (or in lieu of) the traditional winter holidays on December 23.
Festivus did not get its start with Seinfeld. It was the brain child of Dan O’Keefe, who in 1966, coined it to celebrate the anniversary of his first date with his wife. Years later, O’Keefe’s son, Daniel, was a writer for Seinfeld, and brought the holiday to national attention in “The Strike” episode.
At Harvard College’s Cabot House, the aluminum pole went up shortly after Thanksgiving in anticipation of a holiday tradition that began four years ago. A few hundred students turn out Festivus fete, featuring a variety of ethnic fare and cheesey pop tunes. The brainchild of house administrator Susan Livingston , a longtime “Seinfeld” fan, the Cabot House party is one answer to Harvard’s traditional dilemma of how to celebrate the holidays in an age of diversity and multiculturalism.
Creative fans have built upon the “Seinfeld” blueprint. Pastimes like washing-machine tossing, Frisbee golf, limbo , and the crowning of Miss Festivus have become popular. New Fesitivus carols crop up every year.A special “Seinfeld” contest on “Jeopardy” featured a whole Festivus category. Can it be long before department stores put up aluminum poles in their accessories department s ? Office parties pause for the Airing of Grievances? (I suggested that one to Steve and he said “I think not”
So you see mean people? Being mean has nothing to do with Festivus either so smile at your fellow man and oh yeah here is a Festivus recipe for you.:)
And remember there is almost nothing you can glaze a ham with that makes it taste bad.
******************************************************************
JUNIOR MINT CHEESECAKE
6 oz. Junior Mint (two 3 oz. pkgs.)
3 (8 oz.) pkgs. cream cheese, softened
2/3 c. sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
Graham cracker or chocolate crumb crust for a 9 inch springform pan
1. Place Junior Mints in freezer.
2. With electric mixer or in food processor, combine cream cheese and sugar until smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in vanilla. Pour into crust.
3. Chop cold Junior Mints and sprinkle onto cheesecake.
4. Bake at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes or until just set. Cool on wire rack, then chill several hours or overnight.
Makes 8 servings.
NOTE: For crust, combine 2 cups crumbs, 1/4 cup sugar and 6 tablespoons melted butter. Press into bottom and up sides of pan
MERRY CHRISTMAS
HAPPY HANANEKAU
JOYEUX NOEL
BONNE NATALE
AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS
LINDA SECCASPINA
SAVANNAH DEVILLES
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