Author: Sheila Yates

During my freshman college year I had the opportunity to discover a word that epitomized my very being.

A freshman English class assignment was to write an essay about the ONE word that described an unfavorable aspect of my character.

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Nope, I felt very rational, actually overjoyed:

Finally an assignment to suit me. I could write a thesis and add a couple of daydreams.

1. Exchange my feeble math skills to rise to the top of math mountain and become a genius mathematician.
2. Exchange my body shape that resembled a railroad tie for Brigette Bardot’s body. (I know—totally unrealistic.)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Nope,

 there was an especially fine word that embodied me, only me! And, I still have a copy of my deeply introspective essay: CHARACTER TRIBULATIONS! Subtitled:

                                                                               “THE GODS DID IT!”

A kaleidoscope of black and white shapes streaked through the sky as the lightning challenged the incantations of the kettle drum announcing the annual assembly of the GODS. “THE WORD GODS!”*

Noah, the eminent head CEO smiled as he said to Peter the COO (chief operating officer), ” Bestow the honor! Congratulations to Sheila who personifies this year’s word,                                                                                                                                            PROCRASTINATE!

It will no longer sit huddled & alone. Yep, it was mine, all mine.                      

The WORD GODS better known as Noah Webster and Peter Roget saved this word for me—listen to how it rings, zings, sings, PRO-CRAS-TI-NA-TION!  When it is used as a verb, it offers unlimited choices, and they are all super—dawdle, delay, hesitate, loiter, pigeonhole, slacken, stall, tarry and my personal favorite, dilly-dally.

Wow! When you put them next to run-of-the-mill verbs such as will, was, be, — —not good — —procrastinate is just a really great word!

Think of that tiresome quote, “Procrastination is the thief of time”.  Please do not be misled. It is not a thief when it comes to writing. I’m actually saving trees and lessening hyperbole. And ponder this, if certain couples had practiced procrastination instead of the next word in my pocket dictionary, procreation, would not the world be better without the likes of VLAD III, Hitler, Stalin, John Wilkes Booth, AND the future tyrannical despot, Vladimir Putin? How about our beautiful planet Earth? Why didn’t we muddle through history without atomic bombs, guns, nerve gas, to name a few inventions that could have been delayed forever by procrastination?

There is one small problem when one embodies the word in its entirety. If I am its sole authority will I receive proper homage, or will I procrastinate myself into oblivion? Hmmm.

Another glitch, I confess to one lapse in regard to my word. I have never dawdled nor dilly-dallied when offered a plate, box, or bar of chocolate and I absolutely never race to attack a laundry pile if a new book appears.  But unfortunately, my most mega procrastination, and I am shamefaced to admit and deeply embarrassed, is my car.  It is always in need of a visit to the car wash. I am just not as fussy as I should be for this noble four-wheeled vehicle. It should be bathed a lot more. A whole lot more!  Poor Old Dear and I love my car. How can this be?

Mindless procrastination is also not to be emulated. It would not do for me to tarry when paying my bills as that kind of stalling will lead to fines, empty pockets, possibly the hoosegow!

There were times in my life when I had a love-hate relationship with my word, thinking procrastination was my middle name–lately though it appears to be my first, middle, maiden and last name.

Not wanting to be totally histrionic but wanting to be completely honest,  procrastination and I are inextricably intertwined—sort of like love and marriage, two to tango, salt and pepper. Two symbiotic words: Sheila and Procrastination. And kudos to Noah and Peter (Mr. dictionary and Mr. thesaurus) for bestowing it upon me.

Success! Feeling wonderfully untroubled.

It’s mine. All mine!

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SY’S Salient Points:

Shortly, transformation will be in my future. I look forward to completing all tasks in a flash!

 

 

HOPEFULLY!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        *Noah Webster (1758 – 1843), was a lexicographer and a language reformer. He is often called the Father of American Scholarship and Education.

**Peter Roget: (born January 18, 1779, London, England—died September 12, 1869, West Malvern, Worcestershire), English physician and philologist remembered for his Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases (1852), a comprehensive classification of synonyms or verbal equivalents that is still popular in modern editions.

Blog Comments from past articles, “TODDERING INTO 2023”:                                                                                   DEAL: “No caged animal for me. A Bald Eagle perhaps-top of the food chain and free to roam!”             BSS:    “You have the right idea. Yes, I also wouldn’t mind being a panda. We’re kind of like the panda.  We look good when wearing black and white.  For the most part we are peaceful except if we think our babies are being attacked.  The panda is ferocious at that time.  Also, I wouldn’t mind grazing all day on chocolate and ice cream.”

  Happy Valentine’s Day, Darling Blaire

 

I look forward to any of your comments by replying to my email. – SY

Is Briskly Tottering a presage of my sometimes imperfect gait? You betcha!

One aspect of my octogenarianism is accepting the perfectly imperfect. Oh dear!                                                                             Because at times, my uneven walk is not exactly a graceful glide.                                                                                                                     It borders on a stunning zigzag. Gee Whiz!

  Bringing to mind an alternative solution written many years ago by a favorite author and creative prime mover.                                                                                                                Fleur Cowles

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 I found it intriguing when author, editor, and artist Fleur Cowles* asked over 100 world-famous personalities,  “If you could be reincarnated as an animal, what would it have to be, and why?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**

CELEBRATE THE SEASON!

 

A Hopeful Season for family and good-will.

A Gentle Season to put our lives into perspective.

A Kind Season to make us stop, thank and think.

A Wishful Season to hope for renewal.                                                                                                                                             Let’s celebrate!

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This moment seems right to happily return to a Christmas memory in our home. Join me as we embrace a bit of nature and a lot of sparkle.

The first eight years of our married life were spent traveling to the Midwest to spend holidays with my family. We did no decorating. Sooo, when the first opportunity arrived to decorate our home….nirvana!

Not Decorating did not stop us from collecting a small arsenal of the holly, the ivy, ornaments, garlands, etc. In other words or whatever, the truth is—we collected everything.

A tree was essential. A mammoth one sounded good to me. Sooo, off we went to a Tree Farm with our small daughters and friends visiting from Australia, lots of rope and a saw. It was glorious!

What was not glorious: No perfect tree! I could visit a design showroom, some of them the size of a baseball field and within a short time find a blue-ribbon range of fabrics for a client, but, where, oh where, was that perfect tree?

Our adored Aussie friends viewed my husband with awe and wanted to bestow a “personal-best” blue-ribbon for spousal patience. By the end of the afternoon, they wanted to cut down a tree… any tree or plant me, and drive off into the sunset— without me!

Fortunately, my happy Cheshire cat grin offered a reprieve and they took me home with them to decorate that first Christmas holiday stationing our perfect tree in front of the entry balcony. Everyone took turns placing ornaments. Garlands hanging from the ceiling outlined the tree, added a finishing touch. Good thing I had prepared dinner that morning; decking out that tree required stamina.

All were up to it, including our visitors, who were Professors Emeriti of Sports of Antiquity. Max was a member of the Olympic Committee and beautiful Reet ran the Greek Marathon in Greece. (Max and Reet nominated us to be Danforth Associates leading to new insights and opportunities.).*

It was time. We were ready! The magical moment arrived as we held our breaths in anticipation. Would our stockpile of wampum dazzle us?                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Lights, camera, action! Raise the curtain! 

Even our resilient Aussies forgave me.

But the tree was only the start! We had parties to give, delectables to entice.. Our creative juices were flowing.

The dining room needed to make a statement and over the years different themes took center stage. Some memorable ones were when mirror runners held prancing feathered peacocks. Another year, a gilt and dark green table runner sported a village scene all made of candles. As the flames moved down the wicks, different levels of light flickered and gleamed.                                                                                                                                                                                                         When we bought this house, it was empty for over six months. The yard was filled with chest-high weeds. The house had no premonition that Joshua was arriving at his Jericho. Walls came tumbling down, seventeen avocado trees were tired. We said good-bye to them and said hello to our gifted landscape architect and his lighting design that accented the pergola, the tree by the koi pond, the wicker swing. And then:

No guilt! Later we abandoned the tree farms and purchased an artificial tree. We liked it so much we bought two for our open areas and one still skitters out each year at our Retirement Realm. With minimal space limitations, our well-traveled, long-lasting tree and favorite memorabilia deliver warm splashes of color and nostalgia.

That includes being open to new and old challenges, thankful pride in my family, my husband who opened new doors, admiration for the challenges met by my parents and affection for dear and dearest friends.

For me, the focus of holiday happenings is tucking memories away and finding a bridge to put my life into perspective, enjoy traditions and stop to think thankfully for the many, many warm and wonderful years of life.

 But don’t forget when  a bit of glitz and glitter catch the light there’s a glow in the air offering festive lightheartedness.

From my family to yours, “Celebrate The Season”!

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SY’S SALIENT POINTS:

As Tiny Tim said, “God bless us everyone!”

Thank you and Happy Holidays to Betty, Mat, Sue and Caroline!

*Danforth Associates: The Danforth Foundation sponsored regional conferences which addressed topics related to Associates’ roles as faculty, teachers and citizens and to increase the effectiveness of faculty through strengthening inter-institutional and interdisciplinary relations among faculty at colleges and universities.

Wishing You A Season of  Holiday Cheer and Happiness My Darling Blaire

SHE
loved life, living long and well on her own terms, beginning each day with calisthenics. A vegetarian diet allowed her to maintain the slim figure of her youth.  She was famed for wearing white gloves, but she was the one and only to have peepholes cut into them. WHY?
Why not? Because she could show off her fingers bedecked with sparkling gems!

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She pointed the way to a new profession when commissioned to decorate a private club for the richest, most influential and significant women in New York City.                                    Her name was Elsie de Wolfe* and decorating’s future was all her’s …for a bit!             

Elsie virtually created the profession of interior decorating in 1896 by replacing heavy Victorian and dark Jacobean furniture with

Louis XV and Louis XVI furnishings…same room before & after Elsie’s redo. **                                                                       

She was a forty-six year old actress known more for the stylish Parisienne gowns she wore onstage rather than her performance ability. She considered herself “plain” after a childhood fall when she broke a tooth. Running to her father for sympathy, he shook his head in disgust and announced that she had spoiled her one good feature.                                                                   It became Elsie’s life quest to beautify the world.

Friends were captivated with her creativity when they saw the shared bachelorette apartment of Elsie and her mate, Bessie Marbury during their Sunday afternoon gatherings. (It was generally labeled a lesbian liaison).                                                       Elsie attracted the best of the best clients in 1905 when commissioned to decorate a private club for the richest and most important women in New York City. The acclaimed Colony Club!

                          The Colony Club showing the show-stopping Trellis Room*   

Another client, industrialist Henry Clay Frick gave Elsie carte blanche to purchase antique furnishings and art for his new Renaissance palace on 5th Avenue, (she made a million dollar commission on it).

She was on the verge of beautifying the world!                 

And proud as a peacock!

For a few years, Elsie was able to claim the decorating profession as her own, loving every minute. In fact early in the 20th century when Syrie Maugham, a new hopeful English decorating star, visited New York, Syrie met Elsie and told her she wanted to enter the decorating field.                                                                                                      Answering in her high pitched voice with an air of abrupt dismissal, Elsie said, “Syrie, my dear, you’re too late, much too late. The decorating field is already overcrowded.”        (Obviously, Syrie who would become equally famous, disregarded that advice.)

Both Bessie and Elsie defined new careers for women. Bessie established herself as an important literary and theatrical talent agent eventually entering the world of theatrical production.

Bessie Marbury

The outstanding highlight in Elsie’s decorating career was the Villa Trianon in Versailles, France that she bought in 1903 with Bessie and Anne Morgan. Many in France were ready to embrace Arte Nouveau and Art Moderne, “out with the old, in with the new,” and Elsie over the early years was able to purchase whole salons and original, priceless antique French furniture, i. e. boiserie paneling, Parque de Versailles floors, mirrored screens, etc. This was a forty-five year project of a historical ruin that resulted in not only a second home for them, but also became a salon for the rich and famous of that time.         

Elsie may have been known for standing on her head during parties, dying her hair blue and more,  but in the thick of WWI, Elsie unflinchingly worked as a Red Cross nurse in the pioneering Ambrine Mission for Burn Victims. Ambrine, a wax-like hot substance was poured over burns to act as artificial skin during healing. She worked longer hours than other nurses, traveled to the U.S. to raise funds and, no small feat, was awarded the Croix de Guerre and the French Legion of Honor!

Celebrated for her black and white ensembles, Cole Porter wrote a clever tribute song song describing Elsie,  “That Black and White Baby of Mine.” (Lyrics included the line, “All she thinks black and white…”.

An Aside:                                                                                                                                              A  leading interpreter of Porter’s songs, the sophisticated cabaret jazz pianist and singer Bobby Short,  was a New York institution holding court at the Carlyle Hotel,                                                                                                                                                                                      At the time of my lecture, my husband was a member of ASCAP and actually called Mr. Short for a copy of his  famous recording “Black and White Baby of Mine”. I was  astonished when he sent his recording.  It added the right “note” to my lecture.)

What a surprise to move to our Retirement Realm and meet residents, Reggie and Nancy Short!  Reggie, Bobby Short’s nephew. I take such pleasure learning fascinating stories about times spent with Bobby and stories of Reggie and Nancy Short’s successful lives.

Back to Elsie who consistently took her dreams to new horizons. Her ideas had substance, humor, grace and ingenuity and she did beautify the world!!!                                           

Elsie started the trend of wearing Indian jewelry.

There is so much more to her story…maybe more later!

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Sy’s Salient Points:

Bringing the outdoors in, Elsie used indoor fountains for her own homes and for her clients.

Elsie featured mirrors in her interiors and at each end of her gardens to make spaces appear larger.

During WWII, Elsie escaped from the Nazi’s and settled in Hollywood for a few years and reinvented herself with famed Hollywood cognoscente.

Elsie inspired me to design a room using lattice in a  St. Louis apartment. My client wanted it to look like a garden. After looking at colors, she picked periwinkle. The window wall was painted that color and covered with white lattice accenting the white window frames. She maintains she will never change it. A happy outcome for me.

*Excerpts from ASID Conference, Baltimore, Maryland, “Don’t Forget Elsie, Syrie, Ruby, Frances and…” Sheila Yates

**My first exposure to Elsie was a lecture presented by the gifted raconteur, Hutton Wilkinson, now President of the Elsie de Wolfe Foundation.

***Bessie Morgan was a pioneering entrepreneur who took theatre into mass production, advertising and popular culture. Among her many clients: Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw. Wikipedia

Happy Birthday My Darling Blaire and Thanksgiving

Yep! I was part of the Planet of the Aged, but I was not intimidated. In truth, the Planet of the Aged has an atmospheric resilience swirling, twirling and wingdinging around it. Join me and some of my pals as we keep trying to be/stay galvanized!

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Every THING in my apartment seems to have a design story, some crossed oceans, others came from down the road. A favorite thingamabob is my ikebana tray that for me has double duties. One purpose— hiding two low wall switches and the other— becoming a Lilliputian floor bookcase housing a collection of favorite design books.

 

Explanation:                                                                                                                                                                                       Talented resident floral arrangers create welcoming displays at our Reception Desk Entrance and my good friend Dorothy Roll’s gorgeous Ikebana floral arrangements, (the centuries-old Japanese art of arranging flowers) offer stunning greetings. When I saw a lovely antique object it reminded me I had no flower arranging skills, but I did need another bookcase. The heavily carved exterior is the perfect accent for design books, plus I balanced two books to conceal two low light switches. How great is that?

I love pushing boundaries by adapting a vintage Ikebana tray into a new, attractive, useful design element.

 It’s time for the Sweet-tooth Sleuth to conduct a new World’s Shortest Mini Survey. She is seeking advice on how to add harmony and wellness to Senior lives.

Please meet some of my friends as they share pastimes, pleasures and interactive experiences. Question:

As a sage senior adding a focus of wellness to life, what helps makes your life more interesting, diverse and healthy? Examples might be: exercise, gardening, art endeavors, games, committees, studies, reading, designing, moving, church, etc.

 

 

OG:  “Before moving here, my friends and I had similar backgrounds, now I share many new experiences with new friends who then become best friends. Yes, I miss doing the things I did when younger, but I try to keep moving and stay busy. Living in this retirement community I now, enjoy lectures, love the fitness classes and the indoor pool and my new friendships.”

DAC:  “After moving to CA in 2017, I began taking ukulele lessons and learning music theory with a private instructor.  When COVID reared its ugly head, face-to-face music lessons were no longer an option so we began Zoom lessons.  We quickly concluded that ukulele lessons via Zoom were not feasible due to latency. My instructor then suggested I try my hand at making electronic music. Fast forward to 2022…  I am currently working on song number 120.  To date, I have released 7 songs which have been heard on 6 of 7 of the world’s continents, (the exception being Antarctica).  I enjoy composing, mixing & mastering the music, and then I enjoy seeing the statistics on where in the world my music is being played.”

LEM: “In my aged years, I decided to try many new activities.  I had always admired the elegance and grace dancers show on the dance floor and hoped I could match their style.  So, at 85, I paid for private lessons and within a year I progressed from basic box steps to waltzing, tango, and rumba!  I never saw my body glide like the professionals, but those lessons freed my mind and maybe (if my imagination serves me) I might look something like that magical swan gliding along a moonlit pond! Now I prefer to dance solo.”

JCSB: “As a person of deep faith, I feel surrounded by the Blessings of God and my Church.                                        I live in my home and I am not lonely. My husband and I rescued feral kitties and invariably ended up adopting them. The kitties in my life have been wonderful and continue to be loving & comforting. I support the arts and devote time to my community art center.”

MOT: “Meeting incredible people in my later years brought immense joy to my life yet again!  I was fortunate to meet a young fellow who channeled my love of the sea into something which inspired my soul, rekindled my inner-child, and brought me back to one of my greatest passions, sailing.  After significant struggle with those guardians of senior living, we began our journey back to the water and started up a model boat yacht club.  With salt in my veins and a windy tickle in my whiskers, I gleefully sped my scooter to the local pond and reveled in 2 hours of sheer delight as we tacked and gibed our yachts to victorious memories.  Be not afraid of the storms ahead, revel that you learn to command your life vessel!”

JBLB: “Many things gave energy to my steps along the road to Life’s satisfaction. i.e. History, Poetry and Current  Events discussion groups took my interest, but the pinnacle turned out to be my garden and my 6 year stint on the monthly Feature Magazine staff.                                                                                                                            I grew a Jack-in-the Box  tomato plant that yielded 268 tomatoes! For two months I traipsed up stairs and down, through our residence halls, shoe box in hand dropping off Big Beef tomatoes.  Indeed, I was the Tomato Queen that year.  The years on the magazine fed my creative side. I wrote Bios and nostalgic (humorous?) pieces and I relished friendships made and the camaraderie of the staff as we  discussed and chose articles for publication. Stretching muscle and mind added to my life’s satisfaction in a completely new atmosphere.”

Now you know what my senior friends know, oh-so-well, agedness means business and fine-tuning it requires the right juju and energy. The Sweet-tooth Sleuth and I want to….

 thank my peers for their galvanized strategies and solutions!

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Sy’s Salient Points:

Diverse explorations keep members of the Planet of the Aged, not only galvanized, but also sane. My friends are forever-evolving as they open channels, roads and travel in creative ways!

 

 

 

 

 

            Happy Indigenous Holiday And Halloween Blaire

Crikey! We were in the heart of London and popping off to a Flea Market. We planned to keep a stiff upper lip, a tight hand on our billfolds and not forget. Flea markets are not for sissies!

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“Open your eyes!

Now?       It’s the middle of the night?         Why?

A quest, an adventure, a rare opportunity awaits!   Really?

Let’s Go Shopping!

Nooo, It’s murky and black out, the middle of the night,

reminds me of being a cat burglar and we’ll be in Sherlock Holmes neighborhood. Scary.

“I’ll protect you. I’m taking a torch!”

A few Whats, Whys and Wheres.

We were spending three weeks in England because my husband had been recognized as a talented music educator and conductor, and was invited to guest conduct and adjudicate the Royal British Army Bands and the Royal Air Force Bands.

We were first headed to Twickenham West London, home of the revered historic music training school at Kneller Hall, built in 1709 and reputedly designed by Sir Christopher Wren. Each and every army musician throughout the realm,

including  the triangle player trains at this vast and stately edifice.

We were to be the guests of Colonel Frank Renton, head of all the Army Bands in the United Kingdom, his wife Rosemary and Sadie with whom I fell in love. Curls cascaded down long, soft ears and her velvet brown eyes offered eternal loyalty. Each night, she retired to the middle of our bed, covers up to her dog chin and head upon a pillow. Rosemary told us if a dinner guest briefly left the table, Sadie occupied their chair and followed the conversation turning her head to listen to each guest. (Only in England with the British and their dogs. Sadie graciously gave up the bed when we retired.)

London Flea Markets abound and Bermondsey Antique Market ranked way in the clouds. Open on Fridays, dealers arrived as early as 4:00 A.M. carrying torches—a.k.a.—flashlights!

A bus from the Renton’s location was not feasible and the tube did not run early. Rosemary suggested we use Carol and Charles’ driver. (During the time of our visit the Metropolitan Opera Star Carol Vaness was married to Charles Renton. When she sang at Covent Garden they stayed at the Renton’s and “Alan’s Car Hire” transported them to the city for performances.)

 Fresh-faced, rosy cheeked Alan arrived in his crisply pressed uniform with peaked cap driving a Mercedes limo. (At flea markets, the guidebook said, “The richer you look, the higher price you’ll pay. Dress simply.” Don’t arrive in a limo. (The guidebook didn’t say that.)

People craned to see who arrived. Alan leaped out opening doors,, tipping his cap, admonishing me with, “Mind, your step, M’um.” Out stepped two ordinary tourists with a Royal army torch!

The travel guide book also said,                                                                                                                                                “Tell the seller you only have limited cash on hand, look into your wallet and show your limited amount.”            Awww, easy-peasy. “Do not offer large bills and ask for change.”   I had no large bills.                                                    “Dress down.” A no-brainer with grungy walking shoes that looked like paddle-boats and a rain coat lined with fake fur. They should just give me the stuff.

   Ta,Da!

Opened by Prince Albert in 1855,

“Bermondsey Market is one of the few markets in London where the majority of items are genuine antiques. It has a sea of relics similar to the loot of Fagan’s street gang. It’s half car boot sale, half chic Parisian flea market.”*

When Alan and my husband left to park I scooted into the crowd. It was overwhelming to be in that shadowy light and I sensibly decided to just look around and not purchase.

Nearby, my discerning eye glimpsed a stunning etched ivory and luminous silver carving knife and fork nested in a silk lining. In no time at all, I owned “A Fish Carving Set.”                                                                                                  Never had I ever cooked, carved or presented a whole fish for our dinner table——a truly sensible purchase.

I did not have to go far when again the most charming beveled wooden mirror in a red lacquered Chinoisserie frame spoke to me. I was convinced it would fit in my husband’s suitcase. Somehow, his statement before we left escaped me, “We are not buying another suitcase.” When he knew how hard I had to work with that seller to get that mirror, I thought he’d be happy to fit it in his suitcase. She actually followed me when she changed her mind to sell it to me!

Oh boy, there was a small crowd around a stall where buyers were peering though their eye loupes at trays of tempting jewelry and ME with two daughters who loved baubles. (Well, one did.)  Two stunning rings popped into my tote bag. Always thoughtful,  I put them in my suitcase.

It was an adventure to watch astute buyers bargain, fun to walk around among the relics and of course watch the other buyers and sellers, a morning in technicolor. As I retraced my steps to find my husband, there they were….

                                                                                       Antique Curtain Rings!

Uniquely carved antique brass rings with small rose sculptures

                                                                                        BUT WAIT,

she was holding them for another buyer. Awww, she instructed me to come back in an hour. I perfected advancing and retreating trying to covertly see if they were still there. Probably sick of my presence, she sold all twenty-four to me! (It felt like I had just won the War of the Roses.)

My funds had dwindled and I was content. Only, for a half-second though because a seller was unwrapping tiles that had been removed that morning from a Victorian fireplace. Oh dear! She agreed to hold the tiles until I found my husband assuring her he would be able to meet her price. His princely sum had also dwindled. We changed more money. We were two pounds short, showed her our empty wallets and probably sick of my hound-dog downcast look, they were ours.

As she started rewrapping a loud voice behind us, said, “I’ll take those, M’umm.” And there was Alan, shiny uniform and all, making us look way too affluent.                                                                                                                    She gave us an expression of mock horror breaking into a great laugh, as she graciously said, “You got me, Yanks”

Did we accidentally Fleece a Seller at Bermondsey? The one that opened in 1855? Hmmm.

P.S. Guess whose suitcase held the tiles?

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Sy’s Salient Points:

Always travel with a good-hearted companion who has a really large suitcase.

Our brief buying outing was a a bit of an escapade, but as always we enjoyed the beauty of new landscapes, the music made us believe the world was a special place and our new friends who opened their doors made our journey a magical milestone.

 

 

 

*Bermondsey Market – Wikipedia                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Happy Birthday to your Mommy and Aunt DNY, Blaire.

THE SWEET—TOOTH SLEUTH recently sent out this World’s Shortest Opinion Poll!

 

Please answer either one or both questions:

1.  Should blogs play a role in the Senior Population?

2.  Do blogs have worth & are they understood by the Senior Population?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     (Opinion Poll opinions at the end of  blog.)

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Zilch, Zero, Zippo

My Blog & Me

Why write a blog?  Please realize that the lion’s share of my blog knowledge translates to Zilch, Zero, Zippo! My early research essentially discovered a huge number focus on fashion, cooking, lifestyles, travel, etc. I love words and writing and trust me, at this time of my sort of sedentary life, I have the time to begin a lifestyle blog. So I did and do as a late-blooming blogger and a certified member of the ebbing tide group, I hope to have a more thorough understanding of social media in my senior world. This is about deciphering blogs and ebbing and whatever. My sources often develop from the internet, same place where social media resides. Stick with me, maybe we shall figure the whatever!

I looked up descriptive synonyms of ebbing and found moribund, doomed, giving up the ghost, etc. Ohhhhh dear, that is not the ebbing in my mindset. I was thinking of gently and gracefully swinging to the sweet rhythm of a waning—a mellowing cadence—a caring/sharing cadence with added color and pizazz. That’s where I want my blog to perch.

I next tried blog synonym: online journal, diary, record. Needless to say, I was looking for a ray of light such as pleasing, stylish, creative, a bit cheering, maybe somewhat ditsy. 

So far what I have learned is that blogging is like making soup—throw thoughts and words into a pot and pray it will be palatable.*

WORD SOUP!

To digress: A little about my ebbing! We know from time immemorial that tides have flourished at coming and going. Since a large proportion of me has passed many a tide, think “octogenarian”. So I have also kept coming and going, but realistically now my gears are shifting toward the going. Nothing dramatic, just part of the autumn-ebbing of life.                                                                                                                                                     My hope for blogging, (forget the ebbing part for now) is to be a writer who is transparent and uplifting, but stays rooted in the real world. (Are those realistic goals for an octo???) …Fervently hoping so!

My strengths come from what I love most in life—my family. They are my success.

I also find energy from my enduring friendships, (the positives of Retirement Realm Living), forms of design, design history, reading and research. These all add to the language of my blog. I know also that laughter from the sublime to the silly can speak volumes.

When I started my blog over a year ago, it was partially to not only write a lifestyle story, but to explore social media cartoons, photos and the absurd. It seemed to tie into a form of article writing that had formerly pleased and challenged me for some years. I wrote for a design magazine and some regional newspapers. I loved interviewing outstanding design personalities and organizing photo shoots of creative interiors with first-rate photographers. Now, there is no professional photographer for my blog, but there is that wide range of media’s heady and inventive elements and my i-phone camera is now my professional photographer for pictures. Google Safari/Chrome are my search engines. So now, the $64,000 question—am I writing an article or a blog?

Once again, I looked up the difference between an article and a blog. Generally, a blog contains less words and expresses views, pictures or stories. An article has the same objective along with an editor, a set format and calendar and possibly an artist/photographer.

Yet another conundrum!!! Passing a friend in the hallway, she mentioned, “I read your newsletter.” Could it be that I’m not writing a blog or an article, it’s a newsletter! Good Grief! Now I need to sort out newsletter???                                                                                                                      Newsletter: a monthly issuing, a journal, a throwaway, etc. (The throwaway part sounds so disheartening).

I wonder if Gertrude Stein would blog if she and her set were transposed to 2022. Of course she would …..“a blog is a blog is a blog.”**So far the best I can come up with is that my blog is a sort of/kind of/maybe a “mini”type newsletter article that’s a blog.                                           Shoot, that’s my blog in a nutshell!

 I want to thank you for reading this nonsense because now you know that I still know Zilch about A Blog!!! (Also, Zero & Zippo)

Although,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         if you have an appetite for a tasty, flavorful, healthy thirst-quencher composed with Zing, Zest & Zippity-doo-dah,                                                       may I please tempt you to try the flavor of my

WORD SOUP!!!

Comments From The Experts Regarding World’s Shortest Blog Opinion Poll:                                                                                                                        SHN:  I see no reason blogs shouldn’t play a role in the senior population especially if each blog is clear, true and offers understanding. A blog has worth to me if it has qualities/characteristics that relate to my senior topics of interest. If someone is unfamiliar to blogs, do Blog Apps or Blog Platforms exist?

MKS: Yes, I think blogs have a place in the Senior Population. Aging gracefully is a very important issue for seniors. If I’m looking for inspiration in writing a memoir, I want a blog that will give me some ideas on how to go about it. I think blogs should be fairly short and easy to follow, focusing on one idea at a time.  I also like the “Accidental  Icon’s” blog, which is somewhat philosophical on the subject, as well as a fashion display…..I appreciate her flair.

MMC:  Any effort to build a senior community is valid. As more become comfortable with electronics, then personal communication is an avenue of comfort and humor in their day. Blogs can play a role here. Personal memories, shared times, are a link. I have not pursued blogs. I read Louise Penny’s newsletter and your blog. They are date sensitive. If you start one the next one is always due, like a newsletter. Sometimes I think  blogs are a new name for newsletters when worth is a function of good content and good writing.

PFJ:  Your questionnaire regarding Blogging presented an interesting bit of homework. I felt I needed a description….Where to go? Amazon of course! If I had to go to Amazon to find out just exactly what a blog is, (Blogging entails skill, i. e. writing, editing and designing,) they are not understood—at least by me! However, keep in mind that I am at the high end of “Senior.” Probably those in their 70’s blog to a greater degree. Nonetheless, yes. they do have worth simply by their interaction with others.

LAED:  1. and Yes, blogs can be condensed and a readily available source of information and entertainment for select parts of society-including.                                  seniors.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          2. Blogs have worth in the sense that “work or research “ has already been accomplished by the author and the recipient just has to be                               amenable to the ideas of information contained within. I think they most certainly are understood by our intelligent senior population                         as long as the author stays on track and retains continuity of the subject throughout the blog.

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SY’S SALIENT POINTS

When I asked a few brilliant friends to answer my opinion poll, their answers were/are worthy of a full scholarship to Harvard. So much so, I did take the liberty of using key sentences to reduce their dissertations. Now you know one of my important reasons to live in a  Retirement Realm—THANK YOU, my accomplished & savvy friends!

As for my blog: it is published with an Einstein—like editor, Betty Barnecut, a Steve Jobs—like web designer, Matt Karl, who takes the banners I make and the words I write to format the blog and two artistic virtuosos, Sue Berman who drew my dazzling Intrepid Lady cartoon and my new captivating Sweet-tooth Sleuth Lady cartoon, Caroline Meade. All are the quintessence my blog.

* From Potluck, The Wise Scarecrow by Sheila Yates                                                                                                                                                    **britannica.com Gertrude Stein poem                                                                                                                                                                                                         Random House Encyclopedia: Gertrude Stein 1874-1946 US author & critic. She abandoned the study of medicine to devote her life to                         literature in Paris (1903) and established a famous salon entertaining, consulting and a confidante of great artists & writers.

Happy back to school, Blaire!

Nothing mattered that day—not walking the three long blocks, not getting on a gas belching bus where I was always susceptible to motion sickness—nope! I was very young and tightly held my mother’s hand to march forward.  We were on our way to what I considered the grandest building in St. Louis. The Carondelet Library!         And I thank Andrew ** for his creation of…

              My Land of Enchantment.

It was opened in 1908 with aspirations of cloning the glories of ancient Greece in a classic Ionic style. It deserved a grand boulevard, but by the time I arrived, old buildings and old cars encroached its stately dignity.  But as I said, “nothing mattered” particularly if you were surrounded by endless shelves that traveled around the Children’s Room with words and pictures. Hooray!

When I met my mother at the take-out counter, my arms were filed with books. I smiled bashfully in my tiny gold-rimmed glasses at the tall librarian in her steel-rimmed glasses who looked down to sternly say, “Three books, no more.”     What, impossible!  I could read them all before we arrived home—that is, if I didn’t get motion sick on the bus.

Many library years later, I made a capricious proposal to a national design organization to present a three hour lecture. There was not a glimmer of a chance that I would be chosen, but, gulp, guess what? I won a presentation place and needed a miracle. A library!

Not this library!***

My miracle turned out to be that a library was down a walkway from my husband’s office.  And I could use his faculty library card because my husband was a Professor Emeritus allowing me to borrow an unlimited number of books and old magazines for over six months. Take that, steel rimmed eyeglass librarian-lady!

A runner-up miracle! Used book stores. You know, the really great ones that have an abundance of passageways with pull light chains to guide you through long shadows among silent, bools, wedged together. You slide out a book, no more silence. Explanations and thoughts unravel.

Reading can seriously damage your ignorance.

I adored the research and apparently found the rhetoric of my own lectures fascinating. I kept proposing new topics and lucky me, the brilliant head of the ASID Education Department, Barbara Henn continued scheduling me as a speaker at National Conferences.

My husband was a seasoned researcher accessing libraries around the world ferreting ancient music publications during off-shore lectures. A London bookstore purportedly had an out-of-print biography about an English decorator and I had convinced my husband I could not possibly bang out a lecture without that book.

We encountered eager-to-help Brits who kept assuring us it was only a short walk. We trooped  and trudged our way across the four corners of London, but not one Brit had a clue to where my mystery bookstore was.

Finally, discovered! It was not a store, but, a stately home with unobtrusive shelves inside a lovely living room.  It did have a desk with a clerk and thirteen pounds later I owned “Syrie Maugham” by Richard B. Fisher, the story of Syrie, wife of Somerset Maugham. She became famous for creating the All-White Room.  And now, one of my  lecture subjects.

Fisher ended his biography by saying that “Syrie Maugham brought a breath of freshness and beauty into her world, ….her drawing room appeared to guests, as they entered, as a stage on which they were to act and watch others act for them. The first impression they received from Syrie’s all-white-room must have been of light, then of elegance: then restfulness and beauty.”

Because my lectures included slide presentations, I became intrigued with using humorous quotations, you know, the same ones we keep getting in today’s emails.

or

I think Emily, my mother, would be pleased as my curiosity progressed.  She started it all in that sweet Carondelet Library in St. Louis that continues today.

Today, my Retirement Realm has four libraries scattered around its kingdom. So much fun and information!

Step right in—visit those grand masters of words of vicarious pleasures. Brilliant, boring, humorous, edgy, common, words tumble and dance throughout our lives.

 May they continue to take us to our LAND OF ENCHANTMENT!

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Sy’s Salient Point

             

Kudos to that steel-rimmed eyeglass lady librarian-lady who studied library skills. She will do anything in her power to find answers to our questions.

WHAT’S in a color?

Aging beauties might need a face lift, but not Mother Nature. She is our inspiring design wizard. And, when she heard a new buzz word for a creative milestone that was popping up in the 30’s she jumped right in to embrace the Golden Age of Hollywood!

But, long before “technicolor,” a significant part of color’s story travels back to the 17th century and the genius of Sir Issac  Newton. You would think that after inventing calculus, gravity and the law of motion, etc. he would take a break, not Sir Issac. He established that the human eye can discern at least ten million colors from an infinite spectrum that he divided into 7 colors.

He thought there must be seven colors in the rainbow and added orange and split purple into indigo and violet because he believed seven was a cosmically significant*, even a ‘magic’ number. The musical scale has seven notes and Newton decided to define seven distinct colors as well.

Interestingly, with today’s technology, the Sherwin Williams paint company is capable of producing 1,700 paint colors! If you’re painting today and you scanned all 1,700, please do not ask your designer or paint store expert, “Do you have any other colors?”

Color can interact to create dynamic or calming experiences. How may times have you said to a friend, “That color looks great on you—makes your eyes look greener, bluer, etc. You should always wear that color.”

Guidelines and tip-offs from nature are abuzz with significant color ways. From one old bird to another—“Always keep your feathers that color!  Brightens your outlook and is definitely uplifting for you!”

Or, the neutral colors of beige, grey, taupe and griege.

From A Cheetah Grandmother—“I taught my family all about their  camouflage shades and said, your chic, neutral palette cloaks you in a perfect safety net.”

                           Always stick with grandmothers!

Sir Issac decided that all colors are derived from the three primary colors—red, yellow, blue. But, in color analysis “less is not more“ because you can mix and mix more. A basic terminology defines color as, when,

• a color is mixed with white, it is a TINT to create a lighter color.
• A color is mixed with grey, it is a TONE.
• A color is mixed color with black, it is a SHADE.

Armed with that knowledge and a lot more, way back in the 80ties, a popular trend focused on your personal color palette by trained Color Analysis Coaches. The Seasonal Color Analysis System was divided it into Winter, Spring, Summer or Autumn

They select your your most flattering colors. Friends who feature them in their wardrobes and homes shared how special and confident this program makes them feel.

 

So, for my own global approach to colors, I checked in with friends and created the—                                                           

World’s Smallest Most Insignificant Mini-Survey

• Do you have a favorite color?
• Do you have a color you dislike?
• Does wearing your favorite color influence how you feel?
• Is there a color that helps you feel relaxed?
• Do you have a dominating color in your home?

Their answers were quite enlightening:                                     

BLJB: “Spruce green, “When I wear it, I feel calmness, assurance and enjoy compliments. It was a showstopper in my beloved green and white kitchen; our happy and healthy center of activity. I dislike (emoji) orange.”

BS:  “Red, “I don’t wear red, but it’s my favorite. I like it’s can-do spirit, it’s strength and it’s our heart’s color. My least likable color is gold.”

JJEC: “My favorite colors are the classic pastels—blue, lavender, pink, sea foam green, etc. Years ago, I had my colors done and my designation was Summer. It reinforced my feeling of loving and wearing pastels. I would not wear black and the neutrals are too bland for me.”

MJ: “Blue, all shades of blue. When I had my colors done, I used  maroon and grey-blue accents in our homes. They are my feel-good colors! Yellow is not a good color for me.”

JM: “I like all colors, particularly deep or bright ones. I have to think of a color I don’t like, probably grey.”

BSJC: “The rich, warm colors of Autumn—brown, beige, orange and warm greens. Purple is my pizzazy color and I feel energetic when I wear it. For a relaxed feeling, it’s the shade of white.”

RBB: “I like the power and intensity of red. It livens up interiors and elevates my mood when I wear it. Teal and blue shades are relaxing and restful. I never wear brown and strong colors are highlighted in my home.”

CE: “The full range of blue, along with pink and tan and rust shades. I am a Winter and have maintained wearing those shades. I, completely enjoy them. Orange is not for me.

At least they know what they like!

Our world is a kaleidoscope of colors, transporting us to positive feelings and can reflect our personalities. Color packs a powerful punch and is your personal showcase. Look to Mother Nature, a  most noteworthy teacher!

And remember to—

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SEY SAYS:

Cast restraint aside, the vibrant, stimulating character of red can create dynamic and positive energy. Red fancies center stage.

Splashy orange is a reflection of a strong, flamboyant aliveness that dares not to conform.

Glowing pops of sunshine invalidates dullness. Yellow illustrates artful brilliance, warmth and luminosity.

The luster and splendor of green infuses the natural world around us. Green expresses feelings of soothing coolness and/or vitality.

This palette reaches far into the universe. Blue offers peace-of-mind  and endless horizons.

No need to be a shrinking violet if you love the  purple offerings created from reds and blues that meld into lavender, periwinkle, mauve. Don’t forget, it’s Royalty’s favorite color!

*Wikipedia: Sir Issac Newton

Happy Summer Solstice and Vacation Blaire!

 

“Art is as much about what is not there as about what is there. The greatness of a work of art depends more in what it holds back than what it shows.” Enrique Martinez Celaya*

I think the same thing can be said about conversation, if we trade a few words of Martinez Celaya’s quote; conversation is as much about what is said as about what is not said…..sometimes, when words are held back, true meaning shows.  

How many words have I said or written since moving into the Octogenarian Kingdom?  Waaaaay too many, no doubt, but even the ones that should not have been said, have allowed me to grow—at least—I hope so.

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     TOUGH LOVE

     A Serious Talk About Downsizing:

I was in St. Louis showering unsentimental decisions (outright judgements) on the dearest of friends—a friendship that began when we were eight years old. She was moving to a Retirement Realm. We had been through this before—a house, a villa, a Florida condo and once again I was her designer/drill sergeant.

I said, “Jo, it doesn’t fit.” using my firm, but judicious, designer voice. “Jo, we don’t have enough space for the 12’ X 9’ oriental rug, antique corner cabinet, dining room table, chairs, lamps, 8’ custom circular rug, etc.”

Jo’s expression showed disbelief, dismay, and a touch of panic, as she said, “Sheila, I just had those rugs cleaned—-I love those rugs! Are you telling me they don’t fit?”

 

Jo is on a roll, “Do you mean my bed is too large? You really think my carved Dresden lamps are overwhelming for the bedroom?”

Not letting this issue die, she tries for an outright shot-in-the-arm—called buttering up, “Sheila, I love your new ideas for my apartment, the lattice-work, the periwinkle color, I know you can make them fit. You always do!”

This was gritty love and I wanted to please her. I measured her favorite pictures, mirrors, each and every piece of furniture—juxtaposed shapes and fit in those two rugs. I needed to offer support and new surprising design concepts for her new abode. We love shopping and bought  furnishings that fit and accented her personality.

It worked! But outshining our tough “talk show moments,” is this; our friendship is wonderfully strong and we still laugh together, eight decades later!               

 

AN IMPERFECT DIALOGUE 

                                                

Wrong Number:

I was a new resident figuring out how things worked in our Retirement Digs when a series of phone calls set-off major frustrations. I picked up my phone and heard….

“Hello, I’d like a refill for my pills.” The lady did not listen when I told her she was calling a wrong number. Instead, she repeated her order once more.

Again, I repeated, “I’m sorry. You are calling the wrong number. I am another resident.” Ignoring my explanation, she said, “For goodness sake, I need my pills!”

Her third phone call, and I was bordering on strident as we began our routine. All I wanted to do was yell, “LADY! Please stop calling me!”

But a bit of understanding was beginning. I sensed her frustration and suggested, “Try calling this number.” I gave her an operator’s number at our community’s general office. Anticipating yet another fretful pill request, I was surprised when she denounced our community’s phone system. “It’s the phones, this phone system does not work here.”

And yet another surprise as she offered her sweet frustration. I heard a long sigh, a hesitation and then my caller continued in a softer voice, “I’m not perfect either.”                                                                                                                             And instantly hung up.

(I’m the one in back hoping she gets her pills.)

I have certainly dialed many wrong numbers and was sorry that she hung up before I could wish her luck!

How do you solve an emotional conversation with rational reactions when two people do not know each other, can not  see each and are talking through air. After our initial irritations, we did not slam the phone down and tried to understand each other. I offered a Band-aid and she softened her voice—a Talk Show headed for kindly responses.   Now This  One Is….. 

                                                                   A Successful Talk Show With Good Listeners.

 

AN INTERVIEW WITH MY SOUS-CHEF

by

AN OLDER BLOGGER

And the radishes are rad!

O.B.     “Did you say your name was Julia?”

B.         Affronted voice, “No, I actually did not! My name is Blaire. Just Blaire!”  (She loves the word, “actually.”)

O.B.     “So sorry, Blaire. Your mommy said you were her sous-chef. You are no doubt accomplished in many foods. Can you describe one of your dishes?

B.          “Yes, I can. Actually, I go out to my vegetable garden to dig a big radish for my daddy. He loves to eat radishes.”

O.B.   “I noticed your gardening tool is a wooden spoon and you protect your hands with gardening gloves. The gloves are a smart choice. And the tutu matches your pink shirt. “

B.       “Thank you! I wear my tutu a lot.”

O.B.   “How do you prepare your radishes?”

B.      “I get a very big radish and I wash it with soap and water. My mommy slices it and I put it on my Daddy’s plate,”  (Blaire keeps a steely eye on me to see if I am listening. When I have previously glanced away, Blaire put a hand on each side of my face and gently turns it so I am looking directly at her.)

O.B.   “Did you know there’s a famous chef named Julia. That is why I asked you at the beginning of our interview if  your name was Julia. Would you  like to be a famous chef just like Julia?”

B.      “NO, I actually would not. I Am Blaire, Just Blaire!”

Apparently, my quest for the lowdown on her four year old interpretation of fine dining and organic gardening was now dismissed. I’ve done more than a couple of interviews and her disclosures were state-of-the-art responses, but, this was a first because, within minutes, I receive a disarming smile and hug. (And, I do know that she does not want to be a chef called Julia.)

                                                                                                  Just Blaire!

Best pay, I ever received from a beloved Talk Show.

 

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Sy’s Salient Points:

We add value to our conversations if we listen carefully and do not make assumptions.

Kudos all around to each of us as we share, care, laugh and enjoy each other during our own “Talk Shows.”

 

 

 

 

 

*Enrique Martinez Celaya is a contemporary artist who works across media—painting, sculpture, photography, writing—he serves as a Provost Professor at University of Southern, CA in Los Angeles.

Happy May Day Blaire