Joyful Simplicities

The Costume Planning Party

                                     Enthusiasm is contagious.  Be a carrier.

                                                                        --Susan Rabin

          It has been Mrs. Sharp’s experience that the observance of All Hallow’s Eve is a holiday that brings out either the angel in us, dear Reader, or the witch.

        Bearing this in mind, let us speak frankly about this business of Halloween costumes.  Whether we like it or not, this is the time we must start planning the children’s costumes or little Bosley will end up a ghost for the seventh year.  While Halloween is the children’s own favorite holiday, it is the one that Mother fears most.  Why?  Because in her heart every woman dreads the annual occasion of having her maternal gifts (or she fears, her lack of them) so publicly displayed.  We mothers have allowed costumes to become an emotional litmus test.

        It takes one to know.

        A true enough story:  For Victorian families Halloween was not just a holiday, but an occasion. There were masquerade parades, harvest frolics, and All Hallows” pumpkin festivals and each event required elaborate costumes.  For months before hand, women’s periodicals featured articles detailing the minutiae of various fancy dress for our young ones.  To refresh your memory, the costumes a century ago were all handmade.

        Mrs. Sharp admits she’s always been nimble with a thimble, but more important, she has been blessed with an abundance of common sense.  Perhaps this is why her children were always happily outfitted for Halloween, usually in simple costumes of their own choosing.

        Then one fateful autumn, Mr. Ebenezer  Butterick’s “All New" 1899 arrived in the post.  That year, a costume known as the “the Ant”—a black sateen confection with six legs--was all the rage. 

        Suddenly Mrs. Sharp’s heart started beating wildly at the thought of cleverly outdoing herself.  Imagine!  One small fabulous little ant.  But Mrs. Sharp then had six young children.  Imagine!  Our own school of ants: six sibling insects all walking hand in hand in shiny splendor.  The very thought sent shivers of excitement down her spine.

         Needless to say, the ant costumes consumed Mrs. Sharp’s every waking moment, and many moments when she should have been asleep.  At first, the children cheered.  But then they cried and became increasingly cranky.  The more they cried and became increasingly cranky.  The more they fussed for Mother’s attentions, the more irritable she became.  Certifiable was a word frequently muttered by her husband.  Miraculously, the home circle survived intact.

        Finally, the big day arrived and what a very handsome school of worker ants paraded out Mrs. Sharp’s front door on their way to win first prize at the Takoma Park All Hallows’ Eve masquerade contest.  And the Sharp family would have brought home the blue ribbon had it not been for Mrs. Henry Hollister’s twins, Bertha and Buddy, disguised as a matched set of glad-bead-encrusted Etruscan vases.

        Of course, the sight of those miserable children was a startling epiphany for Mrs. Sharp, who realized mothers create Halloween costumes for one another, not our children.  Dear Reader, no child ever begged Mama to turn him into an Etruscan vase.  So let us continue to remind ourselves vigilantly each October just whom the Halloween costumes are for, and all will be well.

        Now, armed with a notebook, pen and measuring tape, gather the children over milk and cookies and invite them to con fide what they would like to be.  Discuss with each child what particular items are absolutely crucial for their character’s costume, and then, leaving nothing to chance, especially Mother’s memory, write it down.   It has been Mrs. Sharp’s experience that it is always the smallest detail—especially if it is missing—that causes the biggest fuss.  Superman’s cape cannot be orange or Dorothy’s magic slippers blue.  They are called the ruby slippers for a reason.  Glitter is not optional.

        And please do not fret about buying Halloween costumes.  If little Boris says he wants a store-bought costume, being possessed of your reason, you will smile and say, “Wonderful” (if there is room in the budget).  For years mothers on both side of the domestic divide have tortured themselves needlessly with ever increasing and exchangeable fantasies that all the little children of full-time hommakers will be wearing wonderful, handcrafted creations at the grammar school masquerade parade.  Having attended more school Halloween assembles than you ever will—thank Heavens—have to, let Mrs. Sharp assure you, this is not the case.  The children are not separated into two groups: store-bought and homemade.

        Remember that any costume you help your child create—whether it’s from your sewing machine, purchased with loving forbearance or a combination of the two—will be treasured if you undertake this cherished custom with enthusiasm.  The tradition worth preserving is not the homemade Halloween costume, but the special time you set aside to have fun planning costumes together.

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The Costume Planning Party

                                     Enthusiasm is contagious.  Be a carrier.

                                                                        --Susan Rabin

          It has been Mrs. Sharp’s experience that the observance of All Hallow’s Eve is a holiday that brings out either the angel in us, dear Reader, or the witch.

        Bearing this in mind, let us speak frankly about this business of Halloween costumes.  Whether we like it or not, this is the time we must start planning the children’s costumes or little Bosley will end up a ghost for the seventh year.  While Halloween is the children’s own favorite holiday, it is the one that Mother fears most.  Why?  Because in her heart every woman dreads the annual occasion of having her maternal gifts (or she fears, her lack of them) so publicly displayed.  We mothers have allowed costumes to become an emotional litmus test.

        It takes one to know.

        A true enough story:  For Victorian families Halloween was not just a holiday, but an occasion. There were masquerade parades, harvest frolics, and All Hallows” pumpkin festivals and each event required elaborate costumes.  For months before hand, women’s periodicals featured articles detailing the minutiae of various fancy dress for our young ones.  To refresh your memory, the costumes a century ago were all handmade.

        Mrs. Sharp admits she’s always been nimble with a thimble, but more important, she has been blessed with an abundance of common sense.  Perhaps this is why her children were always happily outfitted for Halloween, usually in simple costumes of their own choosing.

        Then one fateful autumn, Mr. Ebenezer  Butterick’s “All New" 1899 arrived in the post.  That year, a costume known as the “the Ant”—a black sateen confection with six legs--was all the rage. 

        Suddenly Mrs. Sharp’s heart started beating wildly at the thought of cleverly outdoing herself.  Imagine!  One small fabulous little ant.  But Mrs. Sharp then had six young children.  Imagine!  Our own school of ants: six sibling insects all walking hand in hand in shiny splendor.  The very thought sent shivers of excitement down her spine.

         Needless to say, the ant costumes consumed Mrs. Sharp’s every waking moment, and many moments when she should have been asleep.  At first, the children cheered.  But then they cried and became increasingly cranky.  The more they cried and became increasingly cranky.  The more they fussed for Mother’s attentions, the more irritable she became.  Certifiable was a word frequently muttered by her husband.  Miraculously, the home circle survived intact.

        Finally, the big day arrived and what a very handsome school of worker ants paraded out Mrs. Sharp’s front door on their way to win first prize at the Takoma Park All Hallows’ Eve masquerade contest.  And the Sharp family would have brought home the blue ribbon had it not been for Mrs. Henry Hollister’s twins, Bertha and Buddy, disguised as a matched set of glad-bead-encrusted Etruscan vases.

        Of course, the sight of those miserable children was a startling epiphany for Mrs. Sharp, who realized mothers create Halloween costumes for one another, not our children.  Dear Reader, no child ever begged Mama to turn him into an Etruscan vase.  So let us continue to remind ourselves vigilantly each October just whom the Halloween costumes are for, and all will be well.

        Now, armed with a notebook, pen and measuring tape, gather the children over milk and cookies and invite them to con fide what they would like to be.  Discuss with each child what particular items are absolutely crucial for their character’s costume, and then, leaving nothing to chance, especially Mother’s memory, write it down.   It has been Mrs. Sharp’s experience that it is always the smallest detail—especially if it is missing—that causes the biggest fuss.  Superman’s cape cannot be orange or Dorothy’s magic slippers blue.  They are called the ruby slippers for a reason.  Glitter is not optional.

        And please do not fret about buying Halloween costumes.  If little Boris says he wants a store-bought costume, being possessed of your reason, you will smile and say, “Wonderful” (if there is room in the budget).  For years mothers on both side of the domestic divide have tortured themselves needlessly with ever increasing and exchangeable fantasies that all the little children of full-time hommakers will be wearing wonderful, handcrafted creations at the grammar school masquerade parade.  Having attended more school Halloween assembles than you ever will—thank Heavens—have to, let Mrs. Sharp assure you, this is not the case.  The children are not separated into two groups: store-bought and homemade.

        Remember that any costume you help your child create—whether it’s from your sewing machine, purchased with loving forbearance or a combination of the two—will be treasured if you undertake this cherished custom with enthusiasm.  The tradition worth preserving is not the homemade Halloween costume, but the special time you set aside to have fun planning costumes together.

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Labor Day...

           Let us then, be up and doing
           with a heart for any fate;
           Still achieving, still pursuing,
           Learn to Labor and to wait.
             

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The first Monday of September the season changes officially from summer to autumn with “Labor’s Holiday” as Labor Day was known during the Victorian era.  This holiday grew out of organized marches of working men and women during the 1880s to protest the intolerable working conditions in America at that time:  very little pay for brutally long hours, unsafe and unsanitary conditions, and the great wrong of child labor in sweatshops.  In 1894, Labor Day became an official American holiday, and from that time until World War I, it was celebrated with lavish community picnics, grand parades, and oratory.  Everyone took the day off from work and enjoyed the fruits of their labor:  recreation.  Now there’s a thought.  For the last 15 years it seems I’ve worked on Labor Day trying to elevate my labor and skill to a craft…

    Of course, these traditions have long since passed away, and today Labor Day is viewed primarily as the official end to summer.  Vacation is over, the children have already returned back to school or need to get ready to next week and stores begin to display winter clothing.  Once again, it’s back to work.

    I always think of May’s Memorial weekend and September’s Labor Day in terms of potato salad.  In May we have the first heaping bowl of the season and on Labor Day, the last.  Out come and go our white shoes and bags as well because my Mother did it that way, as did her Mother.  Oh, the twig is bent early… 

    One Labor Day pursuit which is interesting is to trace the work history of your family.  If you’re lucky you can begin by interviewing the oldest member of your family (grandparents and great-grandparents) to discover what types of work they and their parents did.  Perhaps several generations back your family worked on a farm, then moved into the city.  You might discover occupations in your family’s past that no longer exist and follow that branch back with fascination and wonder… My Irish Catholic grandfather came over to the U.S. in 1920 and worked as a master electrician at Macy’s for the rest of his life.  How did he learn his trade?   By working at the Belfast shipyard Harland and Wolff during the time the British shipping company White Star Lines was building the Olympic ocean liner in 1911 and her sister, the Titanic in 1912.  Now I would have never known that I had a Titanic connection (and the Titanic has been an abiding passion of mine for years), if I hadn’t been curious.So this Labor Day weekend, an excursion to your family’s past might be a perfect destination….

Midsummer Magic

Midsummer’s Eve (June 23) is one of the most enchanting and sensuous nights of the year.  Falling halfway between the traditional start of summer on May Day and it’s end on Lammas in August, it celebrates the power and renewal of the sun at the summer solstice (which was Tuesday, June 21^st).  I think of it as a moveable feast because when my daughter was little we always celebrated whichever holiday fell on a weekend and we called it “Midsummer’s Eve”.  To me this represents the essence of personal holidays, customs and rituals.  It only needs to work for you!

An enchanting book (and now movie) that can’t fail to inspire Midsummer romps is Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle (1948).  A witty tale set in England during the thirties, it tells the story of a bohemian family of eccentrics living in a decaying English castle.  Although Dodie Smith (1899-1990) was a successful British dramatist and writer, it was her children’s book One Hundred and One Dalmatians,  published in 1956, that earned her fame in America.  But I Capture the Castle  was her first novel and quickly became an English classic, selling over a million copies. 

       Fifty years later, it has lost none of it’s charm.  The future of 17 year old Cassandra Mortmain, as duly noted in her wistful, wry journal, seems bleak indeed.  “My imagination longs to dash ahead and plan developments; but I have noticed that when things happen in one’s imaginings, they never happen in one’s life, so I am curbing myself…”  Cassandra’s father, once a literary cause célèbre is attempting a comeback, but hasn’t written a word in twelve years; her glamorous stepmother is a nudist; and her older sister, Rose, is a petulant beauty.  When the castle’s American heirs suddenly turn up—two handsome, eligible bachelors—romantic chaos ensues.

One of Miss Mortmain’s most engaging quirks is her fervent believe in the power of magic (J.K. Rowling has confessed that Cassandra is her favorite narrator) and she considers Midsummer’s Eve sacred.  She gathers wildflowers, weaves a garland for her hair, and as evening falls, dresses entirely in green to summon up the earth goddess within. Lighting a miniature bonfire made out of fragrant twigs, she sprinkles dried herbs and salt upon the flames, casting her dreams and fate into the ether.  Her ceremony concludes with an offering to Mother Nature (never out of place) of cake and wine (which Cassandra delightfully and dutifully consumes on her behalf), before she runs around the fire a magical seven times and communes with the elements.  It’s easy to see why generations of girls and women have found a kindred spirit in her.  So spread a blanket under the stars sometime this week for bewitchment that comes once a year.

       When Dodie Smith was in her sixties she was occasionally appalled that her impetuous nature, whether on the page or in her imagination, still seemed to have a life of its own. “{Am] I the only woman in the world who at my age—and after a lifetime of quite rampant independence—still [does] not feel grown-up? she wondered.  Thankfully, she’s not!

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Big Girl Celebrations

What’s as much fun as a plump Christmas stocking for both the giver and lucky receiver? Well, a gorgeous simply abundant Easter basket for children of all ages.  Using the tried and true formula, Something they want, something they need, something to play with and something to read…steers you in the right direction.  For women, new cosmetics in fresh spring colors, hair accessories, a new floral umbrella, or hat, costume jewelry or bath indulgence is just the thing to replace doldrums with smiles, especially as grown children, sisters and friends don’t expect anything at Easter. 

      For the grown up boys, little things that are hobby related (golf, gardening, photography) with favorite candy memories from Pez dispensers to Smarties are fun to tuck into after the chocolate bunny has disappeared. 

      If you’ve got small children or animals, forgo the Easter basket grass for bright crumpled tissue paper or vintage dollies.  Then bewitch them all by wrapping the basket in old fashioned cellophane and ribbon.  So much fun, just a little effort and lots of surprise makes all the difference.

      Here’s a glimpse of my baskets (click on the picture for a larger view).  I hope you had a glorious Easter and Passover weekend blessed by the peace that passes all understanding and the love that makes all things possible.

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Calling All the Irish

Really my darlings, it seems like your luck has begun to change because I’m sharing a seasonal recipe before the big day arrives and departs.  Perhaps that’s because I’m inspired by the glorious Darina Allen’s Forgotten Skills of Cooking: The Time Honored Ways are the Best (Kyle Books).  For the last forty years the woman often called “the Irish Julia Child” has been collecting and restoring the kitchen legacies of Irish women and teaching them to the world at her famous Ballymaloe Cookery School outside of Cork, Ireland (www.cookingisfun.ie) where a 12 week course costs around $13,000.  And while I might forego nettle soup, I wouldn’t want to miss the annual occasion for Irish Soda Bread, lathered with creamy butter, strawberry jam and a pot of Irish tea. Mrs. Allen’s recipe is similar to my  Nana’s version, but better the loaf you know.  I like very much her technique for rolling the dough, which is barely kneading and produces a lighter loaf.

       You will need to mix your dry ingredients separately from the wet.

       Dry Ingredients

       3 ½ cups of unbleached all purpose flour

       2/3 cup sugar

       1 teaspoon salt

       1 tsp baking soda (Sarah's original recipe called for a cup, but one reader tried it and it didn't work)

       1 teaspoon baking power

       1 ½ cup seedless raisins

       Wet Ingredients

       1 ½ cups buttermilk

       2 beaten eggs

       4 tablespoons melted butter

       Optional: 2 teaspoons caraway seeds

Mix your dry ingredients and make a well in the center of your flour mixture. Pour in your wet ingredients and mix together well.  Mrs. Allen suggests:  “Using one hand with the fingers open and stiff, mix in a full circle drawing in the flour mixture from the sides of the bowl, adding more milk if necessary.  The dough should be softish, but not too wet and sticky…With floured fingers roll the dough lightly for a few seconds—just enough to tidy it up.  Then pat the dough into a round about 1 inches thick.  Transfer to a baking sheet dusted lightly with flour.” 

       Use a sharp knife to cut a cross on the top which is done to let the “fairies out”.  Make sure the cuts go over the side. Bake for 400 for 35 minutes. Serve warm with butter and jam.

       Soda bread is daily fare in Ireland, made fresh for breakfast and tea.  If the loaf is made with whole-meal wheat flour, it is known as brown bread; if made with unbleached white flour, it’s Irish soda bread.  When I lived in Gaelic speaking Connemara many lifetimes ago, my neighbors used sour milk, not buttermilk (or heaven forefend, milk soured by adding vinegar or lemon juice!).  Traditionally the milk soured because there was no refrigeration!  The milk came from the family cow and the eggs from the flock of chickens outside the door. 

       If you love history, scrumptious food and cherished traditions from the past, you’ll adore Forgotten Skills of Cooking, a perfect bedside cooking book if ever there was one.

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Tuesday is Pancake Day!

 Shrove Tuesday, March 8, 2011.

      Tuesday is the beginning of Mardi Gras in New Orleans, Creole communities and South American countries, but in England it’s Pancake Day, the day before Lent begins on Ash Wednesday and the joyous feasting on pancakes.  This tradition dates back to the 14^th century because it was customary to use up all the “forbidden” foods such as eggs, sugar, fat and butter which the devout abstain from during the 6 weeks of Lent.

      In old England, each village would host a Pancake Race, with homemakers wearing aprons and running with a heated skillet and flipping their “flapjacks”.  The English pancake is very thin, like a crepe, and it’s sprinkled with super fine sugar, and the fresh squeezed juice of a lemon or orange (blood orange juice is heavenly) and rolled up.  Instead of maple syrup there’s Lyle’s Golden Syrup, which isn’t the same at all (rather like pouring corn syrup).   I remember several years ago being in London’s gourmet foods emporium, Fortnum & Mason one Christmastide, where foreign delicacies from the far corners of the earth were being sold and coming across a box of Aunt Jemima’s Pancake mix and maple syrup.  I just about fell to my knees for the miracle and the shock of it—one of my favorite finding the sacred in the ordinary epiphanies and that holiday Aunt Jemima was sticking out of my Christmas stocking. 

      A pancake supper is the best budget saver—think of them for Sunday night suppers.  Your pancakes don’t have to be sweet.  Adding bits of ham or bacon, shallots and asparagus tips, enlarges the scope of the cast iron skillet canvas as well as the thrill of thrift. So this Tuesday, it’s real pancakes, as only my beloved Aunt Jemima makes them.  While the image of Aunt Jemima has evolved over the years, her pancakes have retained all of the love and deliciousness she put in every batch. Even during the Great Depression, home-makers made sure their food budget included Aunt Jemima pancake flour, as this March 1933 ad from Woman’s Home Companion attests.  Hope you indulge do too! Click on the image below to open up the full version

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Trick or Pumpkin Cupcakes?

Last year when I heard of a pending pumpkin shortage, I went into a mini pumpkin hoarding frenzy. Lucky us, we have about six cans of Libby's® delicious pumpkin products, from solid pumpkin to pumpkin pie mix. Yum!

We can start the pumpkin celebration this weekend with pumpkin cupcakes right off the Libby's® can.

 

Ingredients:

1 package (18.25 oz.) spice cake mix (you can substitute yellow if you aren't a fan of spice)
1 can (15 oz.) LIBBY'S® 100% Pure Pumpkin
3 large eggs
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup water
1 cup chocolate chips (optional)
1 container (16 oz.) prepared cream cheese or vanilla frosting

 PREHEAT oven to 350° F. Paper-line or grease 24 muffin cups.

BLEND cake mix, pumpkin, eggs, oil and water in large mixer bowl until moistened. Beat on medium speed for 2 minutes. You can fold in some chocolate chips if you adore warm chocolate with your pumpkin. Pour batter into prepared muffin cups, filling 3/4 full.

BAKE for 18 to 23 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pans on wire racks for 10 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely. Spread cupcakes with frosting. Decorate with assorted sprinkles, if desired.

PS Are you a secret pumpkin carver? Email us your pictures to comments(at)simpleabundance.com and we'll have our new Peace and Plenty Leaders pick a winner. The prize? A $25 American Express Gift Card.

The Well Dressed Home

Gorgeous at any age is a wonderfulnew pitch with women’s fashion and beauty  magazines these days.  That’s because the baby boomers have arrived into their fifties and sixties en masse.  Sixty is the new Sexy is the catch phrase trying to latch onto our psyches. 

       Actually with both fashion and décor, women get to, and are actually expected to regularly re-invent themselves. It’s all part of the fun of finding your authentic self as She and you gracefully grow in beauty and wisdom during your twenties, thirties, and forties. But in many women’s lives those decades revolve around marriages and the arrival of children.  As I remember, one’s style of both dress and home décor during this time is Lego land.

         As I try to become accustomed to my three legged sack race with authenticity, I’ve been needing to find a few new-to-me personal prompts.  One of the loveliest I’ve found is The Well-Dressed Home: Fashionable Design Inspired by Your Personal Style by Annette Tatum, Photographs by Karyn S. Millet, published by Clarkson Potter.  Annette is the creator of the much swooned over interior décor line of “House” and “Little House” which are carried in hundreds of boutiques across the country.

       In this irresistible confection of a book Annette suggests that we “think about how you shop for a new outfit.  You rarely walk into one store and buy a dress, shoes and a bag all at once.  To create a fashionable home, you need to shop in the same way.”

        Most of us aren’t shopping much these days, but pulling together our closets and home with what we have can start the creative juices going.   For a lazy last summer week read searching for possibilities, this lovely book (try the library first) is sure to inspire.  And for a bijoux bite of deliciousness, visit her website www.annettetatum.com

 

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Ready for My Close-Up, Mr. deMille

This was an unexpected jammed packed re-entry week-end for me, back to the land of the living, after a year of writing Peace & Plenty.  Anyone in my intimate circle knows that when I write a book (and this is my 12th) that’s all I do, literally, especially on a tight deadline, which this book was. I rarely go out to dinner, or any place else unless it’s essential.  I’m submerged into a “reality” that’s no one else’s but my own.  I build a bijoux book bunker, with tables holding books, files, vintage magazines, boxes circled around me like a wagon train. I sleep surround by whatever chapter I’m working on and the research I’m using.  The only one who knew how to traverse my bookscape were my cats who are respecters of no boundaries but their own.  Otherwise, I’m submerged in a dream of the book I’m writing.

         But book finished, I was ready to re-fill the well and on Friday night, I saw Inception starring Leonardo di Caprio and directed by British director Christopher Nolan (Memento, Dark Knight) about a corporate espionage agent who “extracts” ideas from other people while they are dreaming.   The viewer is suddenly on a quest through dreams, the subconscious, archetypes and architects, hidden mysteries in plain view, love lost, covert multinational conspiracies and the imagination.  One minute you’re watching an psychological film noir and the next you’re in a riveting action film, not merely as an observer, but a participant. At the end of this amazing inner rollercoaster, as the film fades to black, the audience lets out a collective sigh – a mixture of relief and astonishment.

    Inception only opened at the box office lastweek-end and already has been voted on the internet as the 3rd best movie of all time.  I feel as if I never need to see another film again.  Just keep going back to this one.

    I can’t write much more without being a spoiler, although I can tell you’ll only understand the trailer for the movie after you’ve seen it.  Actually, the real reason I can’t write about the movie is that it was such a thrilling experience I still want to savour it, hold the spiritual messages with which it abounds close and meditate upon it. My entire concept of film has completely shifted, as well as what we call “reality.”  It took Christopher Nolan ten years to write the script and not a day was wasted while he created this masterpiece.

    I remember the first time I read Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way in 1992, I felt as if the top of my head was suddenly connected to the Divine with a capital D. All I can tell you is that Inception feels as if I’ve also been awakened from a long collective dream and I want to go back to sleep, immediately and pick up where we left off.  Ah, a new reason to stay in bed.     

    Inception is visually stunning, the ensemble cast superb, the plot provocative, the script full of surprises, twists, irony, and yet it managed to be emotionally satisfying at the end. Just thinking about the movie takes my breath away.  In a word: brilliant.  Two words: awe inspiring.

  Run, don’t walk to see it, especially if you can’t remember the last time you went to the movies.  This is not a flick to see on the small screen but one to be savored at large, at least until the Director’s Cut DVD becomes available.  But the mesmerizing Hans Zimmer score is available for download at Amazon.com.  

    And, after you’ve seen Inception and read every article or review online about it, you can turn yourself into a character from the film and a movie star to boot with a film poster of your own.  Visit www.inceptionmovie.warnerbros.com/enterthedream for the most fun you can have with your clothes on and only a pitcher of iced tea.  Usually I can barely open my email and yet suddenly I could figure out how-to-do it, so I’m taking it as a cosmic sign that I’m tuned in to Something Wonderful at the moment and Babe, if I can do it, so can you. 

        I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. de Mille.

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