Happy Birthday, Siobhan!

                           

                                 

                                               

   Happy Birthday, my dearest daughter Siobhan...

You came into this world on a warm August night, 34 years ago--and you changed my life completely.  My little ray of sunshine, you made my days full and my heart complete--and you brought laughter to our house.  You have always had a special talent for spreading smiles...

When you were 6 months old, you discovered your "inner clown"...As you sat in your high chair one morning, you looked at me and grinned...and then threw yourself sideways  onto the chair arm, with your head and arms dangling toward the floor. You looked so comical that I laughed aloud, and said "well, lazybones!".  From then on, all I had to do was sit you in your high chair and say "lazybones!" and you would fling yourself sideways and hang limp, grinning from ear to ear...(Your crazy Aunt Saphrona said I shouldn't encourage you, because it was too much like teaching a dog to "sit".  But I knew you were doing it just to make me laugh--and I loved it!)
                                                                 
                                  

When you were 2, you'd put your tiny hands on both sides of my face and say "let's laugh, Mummy!" and then you would laugh and laugh and laugh.  I'd laugh, too...but the only thing funny  was You!
           
                                                               
When you were 4, you brought me home "surprises" from daycare each day.  Usually it was a small flower or a pebble--but one day it was a half-dead worm.  I explained to you that worms couldn't live in your pocket, and you very earnestly said, " I put some dirt in there, too!"
                                                                                                                                                  
When you were 6, you happily went to school--and came home mad because they made you read that old baby book,  'Sally, Dick, and Jane'...I know they were tedious, when you were used to the rollicking good times of 'The Cat In The Hat'--but nonetheless, your teacher wanted you to read it.  Out Loud.  So with a big sigh, you opened your  book and read:
                    
"See Spot."                                                     
"See Spot run."
Dick said, "Spot can run."

That was all you could stand...You threw that book down and said "What a dumb thing to say--don't he know that dog  can run?!  He sure don't know much about dogs!!"

                                                             

When you were 8,  you danced at the county fair with your dance class.  You and your little friend Dana practiced for weeks on our front porch...On opening night, the rest of the class had stage fright and couldn't move--but you and Dana danced your little hearts out and stole the show...Later, I heard the dance instructor say, "Well...nobody was doing the Right thing, but at least Siobhan and Dana were doing the Same thing!" 

When you were 10, you traded your ballet slippers in for riding boots; a few months later, your riding instructor called to say he had your horse, if we'd like to come out and look at it.  I said "What horse?".  He said "Siobhan had me looking for her a horse--didn't you know about it?"  We all laughed, but it turns out the joke was on us adults. You had saved enough money to buy a horse all by herself--and you did.  And she was Wonderful, wasn't she?!

When you were 12, your evil step-father put a rubber worm in your chocolate cocoa-puffs cereal ...and you filled all his clean socks with corn flakes...and I found cereal in the laundry for weeks!


                                                                   
                                                                      
When you were 15, I sent you and 3 friends on a riverboat dinner cruise for your birthday.  You all left the dock looking so grown-up in your formal dresses...and You, my mischievous daughter, came back wearing the captain's hat and driving the boat! (You couldn't even drive a CAR yet!!)

When you were 17, you worked at a big Arab farm, grooming and exercising horses.  One day the boss came by while you were lounging a horse, and said "Siobhan...did you brush that horse before you brought him out?"  You said "Nah--I'll brush him when he goes back in."  The boss said "But he's got manure all over him!"  And you replied "If he runs fast enough, it'll blow off!"  (one of my proudest moments!!)

I hope you enjoyed my favorite memories from your first 17 years; the next 17 were just as  much fun--and just as funny.  I will always love you, sweet daughter...high as the sky and deep as the sea.  Happy Birthday, my darling girl!!!

                                 
                                                                       







                    

 

 

 

 

Beam me up, Scottie...

                                         

                               

Recently my father had minor surgery, followed by a 2-week stay in rehab for physical therapy.  Siobhan and I both thought the hospital staff seemed a little strange--


                         


                          But then again, compared to our family--maybe not...


              


In spite of the unconventional staff, Dad's surgery went off without a hitch.  But a few days later, we ran into a small snag... The hospital released Dad a day early, and the rehab center had nowhere to put him on their physical therapy floor--at least, not until the following day.  The nice admin folks kindly offered to give him a temporary room elsewhere--in the wing for mental patients...

                                                             
                                           


YIKES.  Needless to say, Siobhan and I both were a little freaked out-- my father is probably the only person in our family that DOESN'T belong in a mental ward.  But it was the only bed available, and it was only for one night...so we finally gave in.   I mean, how bad could it be?!


                                            
                                         
        
                                         We soon were to find out...


                                      
                 

Our little adventure began with the ambulance ride from hell.  The smiling EMTs cheerfully tossed my father into the back of a transport ambulance, slammed the doors shut, and burnt rubber out of the parking lot.  Siobhan and I jumped into her car, and took off after them...Thirty miles of twisting winding roads lay between the hospital and the rehab center, and Siobhan stuck to that ambulance

proverbial white-on-rice... 

                                                                                                                                                        Finally we all came to a screeching halt.  The still-smiling EMT hustled Dad out of the ambulance and into a waiting wheelchair.  He turned him over to a grim-looking woman standing by an even grimmer-looking building, and with tires squealing, he left...                                                      

              
                                   

                    
                                                                 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
 Siobhan and I followed the wheelchair as Nurse Ratchett rolled Dad into the  old building, down corridors and up halls, in and out of elevators until finally...through a double doorway.    The heavy industrial doors locked ominously behind us as we entered the mental patients' wing. (Gulp.)


                    

  

  We walked past a deserted nurses' station on the left, and a small waiting area on the right, where a young woman sat quietly reading in an easy chair...Dad's room was the next door.  Surprisingly, his room looked normal enough--no padding or anything.  Siobhan and I stayed with Dad until visiting hours ended, then we took our leave to go.  We quietly walked back up the hallway, past the still-deserted nurses' station, past the lady still reading in her chair, and came to a stop in front of the still-locked double doors.  I looked helplessly at Siobhan--not a nurse in sight.    

                                                                    
                    


Suddenly the woman with the book spoke up.  "You don't need a nurse to open that door--just wave your hand in front of it, and it'll open.  Here, like THIS!"  and she waved her hand in a Star Trek kind of motion. 


                          


 I hesitated for a moment as Siobhan chuckled softly by my side... Book Lady spoke louder "Go ahead and wave your hand--like I told you!!"  Siobhan chuckled louder, and with a big sigh, I did my best Star Trek wave--and...Nothing Happened.  Nada. Zilch.  Siobhan collapsed on the floor, helpless with laughter.  Book Lady yelled "Do It Again!!"  I gritted my teeth and waved again...still Nothing.  Siobhan's laughter was fast approaching Hysteria.  Reader Lady screamed "Again!!"   In desperation I waved one last time...


                           

This time something DID happen...An irate little nurse with a Jamaican accent walked briskly up behind me, and with hands on hips, she said "And what are you doing to my door?!  You can't open it like that--you have to have a key!!!"   With what little pride I could muster, I quietly replied "That's not what that lady over there said."  The nurse rolled her eyes and looked at me with scorn.  As she unlocked the doors, she said "She's a patient in a mental institution, and you're going to believe HER?!"  


                               
                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Siobhan and I both were laughing now, and we couldn't get out of there fast enough.  Just as we got to the elevator, Siobhan jumped in front of me and said "Wait, Mum.  Let me get that for you!"  And of course she had to do the Star Trek wave in front of the elevator door.  And the exit door.  And the car door.  And all the way home.

                                            Beam me up, Scottie...
              
                                 

                *********************************************************************
                                                                   

                                      
                                               Live long and prosper..
                                                                                                                       
                           
                                        

                              

                          

                                                      
                              

                                       

The Lure Of A Gypsy Campfire...

                                                 
       Who can resist the lure of a gypsy campfire?  Who is not drawn to its bright dancing flames, its crackling logs, its smoke wafting in the wind?  Who can turn away from its hissing promise  of tantalizing food and intriguing conversations?  
                                               

Siobhan and I both love a campfire; we cook outside more than in.  Sometimes we cook in a cast iron kettle over an open fire; other times we cook with Dutch ovens and a fire pit; often we use a charcoal grill for cooking, and build a cheery fire just for light.  But always there is food and fire.  In truth, our back garden has slowly evolved into a much-loved outdoor kitchen...     

                                                                                                                                                                   

We have an ancient wood table where friends always seem to gather...  There is something oddly comforting in its weathered old wood-- its strength and solidity, its soothing familiarity.   The old table is flanked by mismatched wood chairs, well-padded and homey.  Oil lamps hang overhead, casting down their light in a soft glow.  Most of our meals are eaten here, beneath a gnarled oak tree...

                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

 Nearby is a custom fire pit, over-sized and bordered with stones.  Siobhan and I designed and built it ourselves...It has a lovely iron tripod with a hanging kettle, and a hand-turned rotisserie spit.  Two iron grate racks adjust for cooking temperatures, and a brick-lined section is used for roasting turkey and chicken.  Antique branding irons serve as lid lifters, and large flat stones double as hot plates...

                                                           

                                                                                                                    

 A small goldfish pond lies a short distance away; its banks provide fresh herbs for cooking.   By the fish pond sits an aging clay fire bowl, surrounded by cushioned wood-framed chairs.  Siobhan has named this area The Vortex, because all are drawn to it...The old painted chairs and bohemian cushions have their own quirky charm, but when paired with a crackling fire  they become cozy and inviting.   Many  pleasant evenings are spent here--in winter, spring, summer, and fall...

 

People say the kitchen is the heart of the home; our garden is our kitchen, such as it is...Some of our best meals have been cooked here.  Some of our deepest conversations have been held here.  Some of our biggest laughs have been shared here.  This is the place where friends and family gather; all are welcome here...

Teacht sui ag an tine.

Come sit by the fire. 

Gypsy Pot Roast

Ingredients needed:
3 lb. rump roast or pot roast                                             2 onions, halved
3 tbsp. olive oil                                                                 1/4 tsp. black pepper
4 potatoes, peeled and halved                                         1 tsp. salt
4 carrots, cut in 2″ pieces                                                 1 1/2 c. water

Pour oil in cast iron skillet and place over hot coals.  Heat oil to 350 deg.; then carefully place roast in skillet and brown on all sides.  Remove meat and sit aside; pour oil and drippings into cast iron kettle.  Place half of vegetables in bottom of kettle; add meat and cover with remaining half of vegetables. Add water, salt, and pepper.  Cover and hang from tripod over med. heat fire. Cook at 300 deg. for 4-5 hours.   Enjoy!

                                                                                                   

                                               *************************

Dutch Oven Cornbread

 

Ingredients:

• 1 cup corn meal
• 1 cup flour
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 cup milk
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup oil or margarine
• 2 or 3 Jalapenos, chopped (if desired)

Preparation:

Grease a 10-inch Dutch oven and preheat it over the coals. Mix all ingredients thoroughly. Remove Dutch oven from coals. Pour corn bread mix into Dutch oven. Place lid on top, put 10 charcoal underneath and 12-14 on the lid. Turn Dutch oven 1/3 revolution every 10 minutes to avoid hot spots.  Cook for about 30 minutes or until golden brown.

                

                                                       

                     
 *For more outdoor cooking recipes, see "From The Gypsies' Campfire" at our website:

www.just2gypsies.com 

Feel No Pain...

                                                                  

      "The rhythm is in your blood.  Your heartbeat is the drumbeat of your soul..."
                                                                                    --African Proverb
                                                  

                   

  In all of nature there is rhythm...It is in the patter of raindrops on a window pane, in the haunting call of an owl in the night; it is in the crashing of waves on a rocky shore, in the flutter of a bird's wings in flight.  Rhythm is found in the first sounds we hear while still in our mother's womb-- the beating of her heart.  The rhythm of her breath.  The drumbeat of her soul...


                         

Quite by accident,  Siobhan and I came upon a djembe drum circle four years ago.  The circle members were pleasant people from all walks of life; the powerful drumming and the African dancing were enchanting.  We were hooked;  Siobhan and I bought our own drums, joined their circle, and never looked back.  Four years later, we are still drumming...and we now have our own drum circle here at Travellers' Rest.                                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                      
African drum music is strangely powerful...The ancient rhythms envelop you--you feel them in your hands and arms as you play.  You feel rhythm through the very floor itself as the drum vibrations flow into your feet and legs.  Waves of resonance, rich and full, wash over you as the rhythm of each drum fills the air... When the music hits you, you feel your heart beat change to match the rhythm.  And then you ARE the music, and the feeling is incredible.
                                                                                              
                                   

African drumming is even more beautiful when paired with traditional African dance.  Each dance is as old as Africa herself, and tells its story with graceful, precise movements.  It's quite wonderful how the dancer and the drummers complement each other, adjusting speed and matching tempo so seamlessly.


 
               "If the rhythm of the drum beat changes, the dancers must adapt."

                                                                                   --African proverb

      

                                                                           

    Siobhan and I love our drum circle--the Surround-Sound drumming, the freedom of the dancing, the easy comeradery, the sense of Belonging.  But every now and then, just before sunset, we like to grab our drums and head outside--just me and my sweet daughter Siobhan, a bottle of  muscadine wine, a couple of steaks sizzling on the grill, and Bob Marley groovin' in the background...Then life is good, and the music is sweet.  (And the wine ain't half bad, either.)   Feel no pain.

                                                     

                                                         

                                                                       

"One thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain."  --Bob Marley

                                                                                     

                                                                                 
     

Wardrobe Warriors and Champions of Chairs

                                                                            

          "A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin: what else does a man need to be happy?"
                                                                                                                   -----Albert Einstein

It's a different world now than when Einstein made that famous remark; a lot has changed, and not for the better. We have become a nation of wastrels--a country that throws out the things it no longer needs or wants, or the things it has grown tired of.  We live in a society that does not value age; we constantly replace the old with new.  And while our trash heaps grow taller, our trees and resources grow fewer.  In our own small way, Siobhan and I have set out to change that...

  

We are Wardrobe Warriors and Champions of Chairs.  Siobhan and I are rescuers of abandoned furniture.  We often find pieces dejectedly standing at the curb or waiting forlornly by a burn pile.  Occasionally we find pieces in second-hand shops, victims of Do-It-Yourself projects gone horribly wrong.  More times than not, the pieces are antiques, and we haul them home for a makeover. 

Once in a blue moon, we find a piece that requires nothing more than an old-fashioned scrubbing-- with a pail of warm water and wood oil soap.  Buried beneath their dirt and grime is a lovely wood with a rich finish, often mahogany or walnut.   When these pieces are cleaned and hand-rubbed with linseed oil, they glow with a warmth and a beauty that only an aged wood can achieve.

Quite often the furniture we find is in need of repair. If a wardrobe has a broken crown or a cracked trim piece, Siobhan can usually repair it with wood putty and wood glue.  If the old trim is beyond repair, then she uses it for a template and cuts a new piece from salvaged wood.  If a chest has missing knobs or a door has a broken hinge, she finds matching or similar replacements online.

 Sometimes we find ornate old ladder back chairs, thrown out because their cane seats are broken...For these I weave a new seat with replacement caning.  If we find a wooden chair that can't be mended, Siobhan alters it slightly and it becomes a gorgeous planter.  Or a beautiful tool rack for rolling pins and kitchen utensils...or any number of useful items that started as ideas, and sprang unbidden from Siobhan's creative brain. 

No matter what the rescued piece, the process is always the same.  We haul them home, clean what is soiled, mend what is broken.   Often we sand/stain/paint/stencil/ and varnish them within an inch of their very being.  Some pieces we keep for our own use, others we sell in consignment shops.  The smaller pieces Siobhan often sells in a friend's Etsy store.

Siobhan and I enjoy being Wardrobe Warriors.  In truth, we seem to have found the perfect hobby--one that is an outlet for our creativity, a surprisingly easy way to supplement our income, and a fun way to "go green".  It has become our mantra...

  

Every Day is Earth Day--

   Reduce   Reuse   Recycle

  

                                                                     

                                                                  

" I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things we could use."
-- Mother Teresa