Pickle-n-Bologna

     As a child there was very little that I didn't like but I disdained bologna and especially a mixture that I was sure my mom must have invented - bologna and dill pickles that were ground up and mixed with mayonnaise. Funny thing was that even though I wouldn't eat it, I loved watching her make it. A cast metal meat grinder attached to the counter and a handle was turned that cranked the grinding mechanism. Of course, modern cooks use food processors, which are quick and easy to use, but that old grinder was fascinating. First she put in some big chunks of bologna, then a few pickles and finally mixed in a big dollop of Miracle Whip. This was spread between two slices of white bread, put in a waxed sandwich bag, and then into a lunchbox to take to school (times four or five - however many kids happened to be in grade school at the time.)

     When I happened recently upon a sale at the market deli that featured bologna, I bought an unsliced pound, got out my processor and made some pickle-n-bologna. Served on crackers during a Sunday afternoon of TV football, I found that Hubby liked it (rather unenthusiastically) and surprised myself by enjoying it. Perhaps it was just nostalgia for Mom and her grinder.

Alfred P. Phillips - From England to America

    In the winter of 1853, a baby boy named Alfred (my great-grandfather) was born to Robert and Sarah Anne Phillips. The family lived in Weston Supermare, a small village on the Bristol Channel (that would eventually become a seaside resort). Robert was a boot maker and his children, William, David, Ellen, Alfred and Sarah were scholars. It is evident that Will immigrated to the United States as a young man and worked as a baker in Detroit, Michigan. Alfred probably yearned to join his brother in the New World and his mother must have wanted a better life for him as well. (It would have been difficult for a mother to send a young son alone, across an ocean to a big unknown country - either  the boys were very convincing or life in the village was without promise - maybe it was a combination of both.) Anyway, Will and his new wife were ready to accept Alf in their home.

     However, as the photo commentary explains, the wife and her baby died, so Alf stayed with a farm family until he took up his own trade, shoe making, following in his father's footsteps. In time, the rest of the family came to America and all were united under one roof until Will married again and Alf found his own bride - a pert, pretty Irish girl named Nellie Long. 

Little Girl's Jumper with Hat

     

     This was one of the thriftiest sewing projects ever - not a penny spent - the only thing invested was time. The material was cut from an existing adult-sized jumper that I had made previously and worn perhaps twice. Since the little girl version did not use all of the fabric, there was enough left to also construct a reversible bucket hat. My favorite detail was added to the back - a square on square quilt block of coordinating colors.

     Granddaughter was just a little bits at the time this photo was taken, but I remember how much she loved the outfit! Long outgrown, it is now time to pass it along to another cutie, which is why I simply had to take just a few more pictures.

Tomato Bacon Soup

     When it's less than ten degrees outside, nothing is better for lunch than tomato soup - right? The standard Campbell's variety is beloved for its simplicity and for nostalgic reasons, however, I tried something different today - homemade soup. Maybe homemade is a misnomer here because rather than fresh tomatoes I used canned, but I did saute chopped onions and garlic before incorporating the diced tomatoes and tomato sauce. After a twenty minute simmer on the stove top, I added a pinch of paprika, a little salt and pepper, and some evaporated milk (for creaminess), and then ladled into bowls. Served with french bread slices topped with melting cheddar cheese, and garnished with lots of crumbled bacon, this soup was a special tasty treat on a cold dreary day.

I'm Dreaming of a Christmas Quilt

     Searching through bolts of yard goods for a particular color and pattern of homespun proved fruitless at this particular fabric store. However the display of seasonal textiles was astonishing - shelf after shelf of holiday prints from muted primitive shades to classic green, red and whites to flashy, sparkly modern designs - the selection was awesome and absorbing. What really caught my eye, however, was an array of quilts atop the display cases, and in particular, these two which feature split complementary color schemes. I was fascinated by the intricate patterns and quilting but even more so by the red, gray and white palette - oh, how I fancied these and imagined them in a room with comparable colors!

Below are two closer looks at the exquisite craftsmanship.

Matthew aka Yukon Cornelius

     Nephew Matt is a good guy. Really, he is loving, kind, funny, generous, hard-working and cute to boot. He knows how much I love him, therefore he expects a little good-natured ribbing once in awhile. It is nigh on Christmas week and I also love the seasonal television specials, so when Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was telecast last night, I just had to watch it. The animated classic, which first aired in 1964 when I was, ahem, ten years old, is a favorite and I've seen it so many times that I can recite the  lines and sing the soundtrack songs word for word. Anyway, when Yukon Cornelius made his appearance, I immediately thought of Matt. They both sport a similar brick-colored beard and mustache and maintain a comparable masculine bravado. Put a red knit beanie and a green shirt on Matt and the resemblance is uncanny!

A Visit with Santa in 1960

     The Christmas season prompts lots of memories; old photographs can do the same. Combining the two is an extra-special treat and a case in point is this snapshot of myself and two little sisters visiting Santa Claus, probably at a local department store. Taken in 1960, it is notable for baby Peggy's snowsuit, Mary's pink matching coat and hat, and for their very short bangs. I sported longer hair that was probably in braids. I don't remember the visit, but I remember clearly the innocent delight and rapture that precipitated Santa's arrival.

     But back to photographs, imagine my initial astonishment when a friend recently posted the following image on Facebook. It is quite obviously the same Santa, same setting and probably even the same year. Twins, Maureen and Kathleen, were classmates of mine during all eight years of elementary school at St. Dismas Parish. Their mom must have been a fan of short bangs as well!