something to try when laying low

Yesterday I baked something new, a Maui Zaui pizza. It had its own taste and was delicious.
It went something like this, if you want to try it.
First the crust of your choosing.
Then smear on a Polynesian sauce. Maybe you can buy it, or you can make like I did, sort of like this: Mix small amounts of orange juice, pineapple juice, soy sauce, ginger, garlic, brown sugar, olive oil, S&P. Heat and let it reduce a bit before spreading on unbaked crust.
I mixed all the toppings together before I put them on the bread/crust. This is what they were: ham, bacon, tomatoes, pineapple, green pepper (optional). Then add larger chunks/slices of Vidalia or any sweet onion. The last topping is cheese - provolone and mozzarella. Yum.
I hope I do not add twenty extra pounds during the siege.

Wonderful Words from the OT

soap

The virus has increased my appreciation of soap. Last year I bought ten various bars of pretty, smelling great soap when they were only one buck apiece at Whole Foods. They weren't all black and unscented like this one that I used this morning, but they are all lovely. One bar is in the kitchen, and I call it my miracle soap because of its magical cleaning properties. Others are mostly white or pink and smell like peppermint, cherry, coconut or lavender. I am glad I kept so many for myself.

jewelry

I love the jewelry offered for sale in the gallery.
Top left earrings are by a silversmith who does them all by hand and carefully puts in the small stones.
Top right and bottom left are cuff bracelets with various stones and silver wires. Made by an artist who does a lot of arty things.
Bottom right is a ring, but we have earrings and necklaces, too. They are hydrangea (or other) petals in resin. They are beautifully made and have been the biggest sellers so far.

samples

These are details in four paintings in the gallery. The forks are pastel. The other three are oils.

Almost Spring!

Airlie was on my route this morning, so I decided to pull in and visit. Though the offices were closed, I knew that people could still come in and walk the grounds. It was springtime beautiful. Both azaleas and camellias were in bloom. Tulips and daffodils were showing off their colors, birds were singing, a lone turtle was sunning on its mossy log in the creek, and I felt for a minute that all was right with the world. Here is an untouched pic I got with my phone.

gift

When I started the gallery, I was advised by other gallery owners to carry small items like jewelry. Art won't sell, they said. Fortunately I have found several creative people who make lovely jewelry. One is a woman name Kathryn who has been in some line of art her whole life and whose current career is as a graphic artist. As a side gig, and for her pleasure, she makes jewelry that highlights flower petals encased in resin and surrounded by silver wire. Today she brought me this pretty box with a pair of her sweet earrings inside. She told me to read the card on the bottom of the box that described the crown of thorns flower that the petals came from. The box itself was adorned with dried hydrangeas and a thin twine or raffia. Wrapped so pretty.

the virus

The virus of the year is bringing people together, putting us all on common ground. Whether they believe the hype or are just trying to fit in, everyone is more aware of germs right now.  Extending elbows or making fist bumps instead of gripping a stranger's hand is perfectly acceptable. I hope it stays that way. I am not a fan of handshaking. Why is it even necessary? Especially among women. Last night another vintage woman and I were saying how we learned that only in a business situation or if the older woman offers her hand, does the younger woman shake it. Call me old fashioned, but I don't like to be forced into a handshake. I vote for a pleasant verbal greeting and good eye contact instead. And I'm glad that handwashing is in. People are encouraged to do it the way nurses are trained. Can't go wrong with friction and changing surface tension to get rid of unwanted invisible creatures on our skin. I think it would be nice if these two practices remain long after the virus is gone.

A Family Civil War Story

My Aunt Margaret will be 94 next week, and I am so glad she is still around. She can’t do as much now, so her favorite thing to do is read books. She is thankful her eyes are as good as they ever were. Her mind is also quite good in my opinion even though it not as sharp as it used to be, and her short term memory doesn't always pop up quickly. Sometimes we talk about recent things and sometimes old family stuff. Today we talked about the story of Uncle Rob, one that was passed down to me when I was a child. She was able to add some more facts.
Robert DeVane was my grandfather's uncle. He had gone to fight in the Civil War and was captured by the Union army and kept in Elmira, New York, a prison for Confederate soldiers. Many died there. When the war ended, the surviving prisoners were set free, taken to the edge of the South, somewhere in Virginia, and from there they had to find their way home. Home to Uncle Rob was eastern NC, near Wilmington. (I should have asked where.) Margaret said he probably got some buggy rides and that some people let him spend a night in their homes, but aside from those kindnesses, he walked back. I wonder how long it took. The family had had no word from or about him so assumed he was killed in the war. But then one day, one of the black people on the homeplace saw in the dusty distance an image of a bedraggled man. He called out to the others, "Here comes the ghost of Massa Rob!" As he got closer, they knew it was him in the flesh, and everyone was so happy.
As it turned out, Uncle Rob lived longer than anyone in the family, dying at age 92. I asked Margaret what our ancestors called the black folks. I was wondering if it was Darkie, like in old songs of the era. She said they "Just called them by name like Hattie or Peter." And they called the whites by name but saying Missus or Massa before the name, "Like Missus Margaret." Margaret remembers seeing Uncle Rob when she was about five years old, and he had a white beard and was standing with his elbow propped on the mantle.
It's interesting to get glimpses into the past. Family lore. My great-great uncle.