How I Got My First Monet

One day (last spring, I think), I arrived for my shift at the art museum, and there was a man in the rotunda who'd brought in a couple of Japanese seashell reliefs for appraisal. After talking with the curator, he paused at my desk to ask if I'd like to come out to his van and see an original Monet he hauled around with him. Had he tempted me with a box of Krispy Kremes, he might have had a new skin suit that weekend, but since I wasn't buying it, he brought the murder-bait to my desk instead...

Because entertaining crazy people is a hobby of mine, I oohed and ahed in all the right moments, but when I declined to purchase the painting (for $10.00), he insisted I keep it anyway. He then left, never to be seen again (at least by me), and there I sat with a dusty old painting and WTF written all over my face. It was given to me, ostensibly, because the canvas was torn in one spot, and this greatly reduced its value.

The first thing I did was call in Birgit, another volunteer from the gift shop, so she and I could share a laugh and puzzle over the painting together. Neither she, nor I, saw anything to indicate it wasn't real, but that's because we're a couple of noobs. I've since chosen not to inquire about it's authenticity, both for fear of humiliating myself and being forced to conclude a once great story with "...then they laughed me right out of the office, and I cried myself to sleep in a far corner of the bathroom. "

SEEMS LEGIT.

Suffice it to say, the mystery is of greater value to me than the painting itself, but hopefully I haven't committed an egregious error in taking it home and shoving it in the closet. Should my descendants ever discover it is real, I ask that they make a generous donation to the museum and write a public apology to the nameless man whose intentions I misinterpreted. I don't foresee that happening, but why not cover all bases?

As a side note, I think it's worth mentioning that around the same time, my Mom and Ross stumbled upon another mystery Monet at an auction in South Carolina. It's authenticity is also in question, but we now have, not one, but two Monets? in the family.

Go figure.

Eat, Drink, & Be Merry: Part I

I wanna state right off the bat that goodbye never gets any easier! Phil and I dropped off Mom and Ross (my stepdad, but more aptly, a great friend and confidant) in Franklin Park this morning. After all sorts of hugs, kisses, and tears, it was time to part ways. It's hard to be too sad when you've had such a fantastic time together, but it's always tough to see them go. 

Because Phil and I won't be able to make it back to South Carolina for Christmas this year, our Carolina Christmas came to us (albeit, a little early). Mom packed a boxful of homemade baked goods, some canned veggies from their garden at Clay Heels, as well as a couple of bottles of Ross' muscadine wine (made from local Scuppernong grapes). 

They were kind enough, too, to bring us some coffee from the Leopard Forest Cafe in Travelers Rest. I don't care how much you love Starbucks, this is the finest coffee I have ever had the pleasure of drinking, and if you ever find yourself in up-state South Carolina, it's a must. 

We got into the Christmas spirit by popping in a jazz CD (yes, I still own CDs) and putting up the tree. It's a little bitty thing, but it suits our purposes nicely, and once it was up, it was of course time for the photo-shoot.  Phil loves photo-shoots. I especially like this picture of us because it looks like he has a halo, and it's not immediately noticeable that I'm sucking in like my life depends on it. I don't even think I was breathing when this was taken...

Oh, yeah...the tree. Pretty, huh?

I promised myself I would cook a goose for Christmas dinner, but when I saw the $60.00 price tag, I chickened out (no pun intended, it just happened that way) and went with a $17.00 duck instead. I'm happy I did, too, because after four hours (and 18 minutes, but who's counting?) of tender loving care, it turned out beautifully. And it didn't taste too bad either! Mom also made some homemade rolls, and we whipped up a white chocolate pumpkin cheesecake for dessert, but I'm being pretty generous in giving myself any credit on that.  I mostly just crushed up gingersnaps for the crust and made a run to the grocery store to pick up the vanilla extract. I'm Ms. Reliable in a crisis...

All of these things made for a great Christmas dinner, and Ross' wine really tipped the evening over into awesome. You know you're enjoying good food with even better company when opening presents is only half the fun. I was overwhelmingly grateful for the knit scarf and goose-down jacket this morning, and they couldn't have come at a more perfect time. After being on her best behavior all weekend, Chicago dropped down into the 30s...

Yes, this is Duck.

Once Upon a Time

As the holidays draw near, I can't help but be reminded of my great-grandmother--Mildred Harrison. She passed away shortly after I moved to South Carolina in 2010. I knew when I went to visit her at the nursing home the day of my departure that it might be the last time I saw her. Just before I left, she asked me to write her while I was away, and I promised I would...

Grandmother and Granddad, pictured on the right.

My sister, Tiffany, and I spent a lot of time at our Grandmother and Granddad's when we were little. They lived in a big house with a big yard, and it came with a few peculiarities that I remember well--particularly a rock wall in the back. The landscaper had placed several large geodes alongside it as he found them in the yard, but the idea that someone may have discovered them before Tiffany and me was inconceivable. I don't know how large they actually were, but I do recall having a great deal of trouble lugging the largest up the back-steps and into the kitchen where I could show Grandmother what I found. Fortunately for a five-year-old's fragile ego, she was kind enough to act surprised.

The house itself was chock-full of rooms, and each had a name of its own. There was the Victorian room, filled with antique furniture, oil lamps, and glass figurines; the Safari room, so named for its excessive use of cheetah and zebra prints; Elizabeth's room, adorned with family heirlooms and flowered wallpaper that was fuzzy to the touch; and then there was JuJu's room, with it's bright red carpet and our family's over-sized wedding photos mounted along the walls. I usually wanted to sleep with my sister in the Safari room, which was hers by tradition, but my room was JuJu's. I slept in it every night we stayed there, and before me, my father did the same.

Grandmother, Tiffany, and I spent most of our time together in the Victorian room. This was where we toasted marshmallows and threw tea parties. It was imperative that there be a tea-party every time we went to Grandmother's house. It would sometimes take us half the afternoon to prepare all the little snacks and dishes, my favorites being the sandwich squares and strawberries dipped in sugar. When the time came, Tiffany and I would wrap up in feather boas and put elbow-length gloves on, all the while cooling ourselves (whatever the temperature) with a couple of sequined folding fans she bought for us.

Occasionally, Grandmother would pile us into her long, white Cadillac and take us down to the riverfront. She always enjoyed the shops down there, and each time we went, she allowed my sister and I to pick out an item we wanted to take home with us. On one such occasion, she bought Tiffany and I each a little porcelain tea-set. I still have mine (and the folding fan) today.

After dinner most nights, Granddad would take the three of us out to Grandview Cemetery to see where their son, Leo Jr., was buried. This was a daily ritual that I didn't understand until I was much older, but I enjoyed collecting the fragments of plastic flowers that littered the cemetery lawn. From there, we would return home, where the rest of our evening would be spent with Grandmother in the master bedroom. Tiff and I would get comfortable on the day bed and watch I Love Lucy while Grandmother tended to whatever business was necessary, oftentimes bringing in clothes hung to dry from the roof of their screened-in porch. (It could be accessed through a door in their bedroom, and I was always considered too little to venture onto the roof, so it was only when I could steal a minute alone that I would even dare.)

Should Grandmother ever require any alone time, my sister and I would watch television or entertain ourselves at the saloon-style bar in the basement. It was such a fascinating old house. Grandmother always had an affinity for cowboys and Indians, so we would take turns waving around an iron pistol or running amok in a full-sized Indian headdress...

...but Grandmother's house wasn't the only venue in which she entertained us. We would often hang around her desk at Harrison Motor Company, too. It was "the shop" to us, but "the place of business" according to Grandmother. Four generations of Harrison men, beginning with my great-great-grandfather, all worked in the shop at one time or another, and to this day, what Grandmother did there is still unclear to me. But there she was just the same, and I could always rely on her to save me a cake doughnut with white icing. Those were her favorite, and mine too, coincidentally. Whenever I exhausted myself roller-skating up and down the showroom floor, my doughnut was waiting for me at Grandmother's desk.

As I got older, so did Grandmother. By the time I left for South Carolina, she was no longer the person I've described and she hadn't been for many years. I wrote her a letter as promised, and it was delivered the day she went to the hospital. In the melee, Granddad was unable to check the mail, and she passed away before getting to read it. I was devastated by this, as was Granddad, but he photocopied the letter and we placed the original with her in the casket. I like to pretend it wasn't too late.

I Heart October

There's a beautiful day outside my door.

I don't think there is any place that's ugly in October. I spent the first twenty-two years of my life in three places that have played a large part in making me who I am: small-town Missouri, rural Georgia, and upstate South Carolina. For these three reasons, I moved to Chicago with a pair of indignant, country-loving lenses on. I didn't anticipate the different kind of lovely I would find in the city, but October has amazed me again this year.

The sky is blue, the air is crisp, and the leaves are turning. After walking the dog this morning, I trekked downstairs with The Book Thief in hand and spent a few hours on the River Walk. I don't know why I was surprised, but I found a person on every bench with exactly the same thing in mind...

That's what October does to people. Not only is it gorgeous, but it brings with it a number of things we forget to look forward to after the excitement of more notorious holidays at year's end. Everyone forgets about pumpkin lattes, wheat beer, corn mazes, apple cider, and scary movies until they sneak back up on us. It's an entire month made up of the Small Things that make our lives imperceptibly richer.

...and my birthday happens to be in October. I like to think this hasn't swayed my opinion at all, but I have my suspicions. I don't suppose it really matters in the grand scheme of things. Besides, is there another time of year when the city of Chicago dyes its fountains orange? I think not.

So maybe there aren't any of Missouri's rolling hills, and you won't come in with Carolina clay on your heels after a day outdoors,  but you can experience all manner of amazing things here. Even if city-lights have replaced the stars and the riverbanks are poured concrete, I still say it's lovely in its own right, and I'm sticking to my story. :)

A Surprise Package

Part I: The Package

Phil and I received a package yesterday from his mother in Charleston. She just returned from a trip to Japan and Korea last week, and she brought back a few things for Phil and me. We get one or two packages from Korea each year, and they almost always include dried seaweed and squid. Fortunately, this was no exception, but it also included a few bonus goodies and gifts that I'm excited to share here.

From left to right: seaweed, microwaveable fish, and two different kinds of squid. 

I don't know if you can see it, but there are two small boxes at the top of the photo; one red, the other yellow. They are Morinaga's Milk and Azuki caramels from Japan, and they're freaking amazing! Phil and I lay in bed this afternoon sucking on a couple of pieces, seeing who could make theirs last longest. I won, for the record, and since they're only 35 calories a piece, I was able to enjoy them without feeling guilty.

Little wooden figurines and a postcard from Phil's mom. :)

Phil's aunt and uncle also purchased these wooden dolls for us in Kyoto. I'm not sure what they are exactly, but they're cute, if you ask me. It's a shame we don't know what the placards they came with say, but maybe we will find someone who can translate for us one of these days. In the meantime, I think I'll just leave them on display with the dolls.

Part II: A Day Away from the City

We made another trip to H-Mart this morning! For those of you who don't know, H-Mart is a Korean supermarket/mini-mall in Niles, Illinois. We try to make it over there every couple of weeks to stock up on authentic Korean foods. Phil could probably spend an entire paycheck in one trip if he wanted to, but there's only a handful of things that we absolutely cannot leave the store without: 

Brown rice green tea, bulgogi marinade, kimchi, and HooRoo Rook instant noodles.

I'm not a fan of kimchi, myself, but it's hard to pry Phil out of the kimchi corner empty-handed. He can't get enough of the stuff!

No, this isn't our fridge.

That about covers our Saturday outing! It's really nice to get out of the city every now and then, even if it's only to go grocery shopping. I think now we'll spend a quiet evening at home. Have some brown rice tea and go for a walk, maybe.

More later...