Genes

This is one of the oldest pictures we have of our mom. Isn't she precious? 

I've been absent from here, I know--same ol' song and dance. I have been, however, absolutely enthralled in our family genealogies since the New Year. We took a trip in the early spring to Atlanta; and we ended up going to my mom's home town, not too far west of Atlanta. I was on a mission to find some family members in the old town cemetery. (We found only a few. ugh.) And now, I'm totally hooked. I've found a lot of new information since I first began this journey. It was 1985. No computers. Only libraries. Can you imagine? Of course, I wasn't able to find a whole lot way back then.  I did, amazingly, have enough sense to ask my Aunt Mary to write down all she knew of the Bailey family. And she did. Her papers have given us endless clues.

This is the kid, probably about the same age my mom was in her photo. He was so much like her. Look at that face. Same sweet grin. Sniffle. Now he's grown. But he's doing great away at college!

And then we move to the hub's family. His mom is Italian and second-generation American. His father is Ukrainian and first-generation American. I can't tell you how much information I have found online for both sides. Finding a lot of the ship manifests when they migrated to New York has been absolutely amazing. Then, I began going through old family photos on the hub's side. I had brought this picture back from NY last fall after helping the SIL go through the parents' things. No one knew who it was. I think it looks more of the Italian side. But there are a few who could also pass as Ukies. 

And, speaking of Ukies, the hub and teenager are in New York to celebrate Ukrainian Easter this weekend. I gave the hub a copy of this photo so he can ask his mom if she knows who it is. I know she will. She is sharp as a tack!

I have always so LOVED old studio shots. No one ever looks happy. Notice the three back drops? Poor feller on the right is too tall for two of them! Awkward. I think those two boys on the ends are WAY too tall to be Ukies. But "momma" in the back, she don't look too happy. Perhaps the first son did not marry first. That is what happened at the hub's mother and father's wedding. The Ukrainian momma wasn't too happy about the whole thing since he was the youngest son--the oldest had not married yet. And it is told that she let it be known she was none-too-happy. Now those, my friend, are some strong, old-world customs. Kinda harsh, don't you think?

Oh well. Now I'm wishing I were in New York with the family. But, then again, I am kinda enjoying the peacefulness of the house.

Будьмо

Labels: Aunt Mary, Family, Georgia, Hub, Kid, Mom, Teenager, Ukrainian Easter

Springtime Walkabout

Spring is still springing here in Middle Tennessee. I had to take a walkabout since I haven't been home in what seems like ages or, rather, no time when I am at home. This morning, after our coffee, the hub and I went to have a leisurely breakfast while the kid slept. Always nice to get away for a bit with my man and catch up on stuff.

Sherrie went and visited mom today in my place. I feel guilty as hell and am dying to see her, but I needed a little time with the family. I'm not quite sure that mom knows the difference between us, so I think it's all good. But still, I have that pang in my heart, of course. This photo is from yesterday. See the sweet bunny that Pea had sent me. Tomorrow is Ukrainian Easter so I'll keep the Easter stuff up until Monday, at least. We watched the Beverly Hillbillies together. Ooooooh doggie! That show still cracks us up. Look at how someone made the sweetest little smiley heart on mom's bulletin board. Cute! And yes, lilacs are just about spent.

Oh, I was so excited to find my favorite little lilly of the valleys this morning. My favorite little flower by far. These always remind me of my Aunt Mary, mom's sister. She had an abundance of LVs around her home in Carrollton, GA. She gave me a bunch of little bulbs to plant, which I did way back in Falls Church, VA. I wish I had dug some up before moving, but I didn't. So, now when they bloom, I look up and say hi to Aunt Mary. I'll probably make a little mini-bouquet for mom tomorrow and take to her.

The clematis is just beginning to bloom. The vine is just full of buds. Scrumptious.

The azaleas have about two buds ready to pop. C'mon babies, let's do this thing!

The magnolia is full of buds also. Fuzzy little buggers.

Lol. On the way towards the back of the house, I found remnants of the boys' terror in the neighborhood last weekend. They were blowing things up left and right. This poor guy looks like he was in one of the explosions. I found him on the driveway, a good ten feet away from the safely-positioned explosion site in the yard. Oooof.

The hub tore open a gypsy moth nest. Oh, they wreak havoc on my wild cherry. I hope we get some frost tonight and kill the little nasties. I hate using chemicals, so I (one of the boys) just tear open the nests once they form. Still, kinda sad. Move on Rosa.

The newly planted forsythia looks to be doing well this time around. Finger's crossed.

Pretty view of my already overgrown corner of the yard. Doesn't take long, does it?

Proof. Dandelions. I am so allergic to these little weeds. No dandelion wine for me, the doc once told me. A'ight with me.

Aw, look what was close to the lilac bush. Poor little robin egg, all by its lonesome in the grass. I didn't know quite what to do with it, so I just left it there. :-(

Lilacs still blooming and smelling dandy.

Even a few narcissus still in bloom.

Lilies growing for summertime bloomin' in mom's yard.

A sweet angel sniffing the weeds growing around her.

Mom's hostas.

This doesn't look like my balloon flowers, but it is where they are planted???? We'll see if they come up balloons!

Aw, springtime. How are your flowers coming along in your little worlds?

xo
ro

Monochromatic Peace

The weekend is here which means I'm perusing Apartment Therapy with a vengeance. I came across this bedroom shot which I just adored. When it comes to our bedroom, the hub's and mine, I've always preferred the scheme to be light and airy with some nice color pieces thrown about. The bedroom is such a personal space that I fill with with all of my nostalgic pieces that really mean something to either myself or the hub--my grandmother's quilt hanging over the bed, my baby clothes hung on peg boards, the boys' pottery made in preschool, and the like. I enjoy being awoken softly in a gentle-to-the eyes sloom.

While the rest of the house is quite the mishmosh of color that peaks the curiosity of the child within me, the bedroom, I feel, should be soothing to the soul. Most all of our wood pieces throughout the house are a very heavy wood, a lot of antiques and just plain dark. After we were married, I got so tired of all the old dark art deco bedroom furniture we had collected that we finally moved it to other rooms of the house. I first worked with the iron bed that we purchased on a trip to Atlanta visiting my mom's sister, Aunt Mary. It now proudly slumbers guests in the downstairs bedroom. (We upped to a king this past year!)

Then there was a closing sale at the then Woodward & Lothrop's where we found this perfectly cheap armoir in a pickled oak. I loved it. (The upholstered off-white chairs came from the same going-out-of-business sale.) Perfect for that light bedroom feel I was looking for. From there came different sales, piecemeal, that somehow fit in with the scheme over the past 20 years. While nothing truly matches, it works for us quite pleasurably.

I feel the same about the kitchen space. It, being the heart of the house, should feel open and airy and inviting. Over the past ten years, I planned almost every aspect of the kitchen I desired. For it to come to fruition (well, almost) is a dream come true. I clipped pictures and articles of everything I liked--again the monochromatic cleanness came into play. I hadn't even realized it until I took all my folders, ideas and clippings to the kitchen remodeler (the idiots that they are) and spread it all out on the table.

I'm pretty darn happy with it overall. I'm trying to release the negativity that came with it because it is such a darn gorgeous kitchen, if I do say so myself.

Which brings me to my latest endeavour. I am truly trying to teach myself how to meditate. I have never been able to! I remember in Lamaze class, I would giggle when the teacher would ask us to find a peaceful spot in our minds. It was ridiculous! Breathing, I'm ok with. Trying to get thoughts out of my head? Not so easy. My niece Madeleine is enamoured with Buddhism which thrills me to no end. I purchased this book, really, for both of us. I will be passing it on to her this week in the hopes that she too will enjoy learning to meditate. Perhaps if I had started out when I was a wee teen, that would have helped. lol I so want to get this Tonglen practice down.

If we all could breathe in the darkness and exhale with only light and goodwill, what a wonderful place it would be. I'm trying.

Happy weekend everyone!

xo
Ro

Sausage Biscuits

Sausage biscuits always brings to mind memories growing up. When we would visit my grandma Rosie in Texas each summer, she would always cook up a feast of food. None of which us kids would eat. Well, we didn't want to, anyway. She was already in her 80s, still living by herself and just a jolly ol' soul of a woman. We would all love visiting with her in her little apartment because she was just a hoot. Her food however was not that which kids would eat. We dreaded that part of the visit. Being a Southerner, there was always food. It was always on the stove, sitting there for Lord knows how long. When she would put it on a plate for you, she would slap it all together. Kids don't like things all mixed up in a goop. My mom would whisper to us "You have to eat it" in that gentle voice of hers. I guess we would. I have no memories of eating that "good junk" as grandma would call it. However, when it came time for us to pack the car up and head back North, she would always make us a big batch of sausage biscuits and wrap each one in a napkin and put them in a bucket of some sort, normally a big gallon margarine bucket. (Who buys a gallon of margarine?) To this day, I can think of nothing tasting as good as one of those sausage biscuits on the road when my father would refuse to stop because "we were making good time." Thank you grandma for saving our little bellies so many times.

Then there's Aunt Mary, one of my mom's sisters in Georgia. Every time we would visit, up until several years ago when she was in her 90s and still living on her own, she would cook up a country breakfast each and every morning. Now, Aunt Mary was not one to get up early--suppose I get the gene from that side of the family--but she would when we were there. No matter how many of us bombarded her house, she would cook a country breakfast fit for a king and his castle. The entire castle. If it were just me and the kids, it would still be the same amount at which time we all would stuff ourselves in honor of all the good food she had cooked. I would do the same as my mom before me, "You have to eat it." My voice, probably not so gentle. I remember her in the kitchen cooking that sausage up. Mom would try and help and she was always behind her (as still the big sister 70 years later) showing mom how to squish all the grease out of the sausage. There isn't anything close to waking up at Aunt Mary's smelling the sausage and biscuits cooking. Again, such wonderful memories.

The kid and I were doing a little grocery shopping yesterday and came upon this luscious looking bulk breakfast sausage. The kid and nanna love sausage; so how could I resist? I cooked it up this morning, remembering Aunt Mary's delicious breakfasts and Grandma Rosie's sweet send offs. It was a nice way to start the day with so many memorable moments with loved ones who are no longer with us. I miss having aunts and uncles and grandmothers to look up to.

Guess I'm one of the elders now. Cringe. How scary is that?