Confessions Of A Dish Whore

By Cassondra Murray

Hi. I’m Cassondra and I am a dish whore.

I know, I know. Those of you who have come to know me in all of my black-wearing, firearm-and-knife-wielding, suspense-writing glory will find this difficult to assimilate. But it’s true.

It doesn’t matter much where the dishes originated. It could be delicate Lenox or sturdy Pfaltzgraff, $30-per-set Gibson from Target or $30-per-teacup Prince Albert porcelain from England. When I see a pretty set of dishes, I immediately start building a table setting around it. Then I start building my fantasy life around it.

I compare it to what I already have, and think about which placemats, tablecloth, chargers and stemware I could combine to make something eclectic. Something different. Something stunning.
And then I start wanting it.

I can spend hours in the housewares department. I imagine MY table set with that, MY house perfectly clean and neat, and all my friends around me, sipping good wine, laughing and having a grand time while I finish dinner and we prepare to sit around that gorgeous table.

My husband, Steve, will come in and give me a kiss and hand me the flowers he brought, then he’ll stir the Bolognese sauce while I greet the first guests for the evening.
If only I had those dishes, you see, all else in my life would fall into perfect alignment. Just like a magazine ad.

Yes. It’s a disease.

And yes, I do need a 12-step program for this.

Or some sort of therapeutic intervention. Or, perhaps, service for 12 of the Lenox Holiday pattern china. I’ve always wanted that set….

Help me.

I’ve been doing better recently. I swear.

Last year I gave away three whole sets of dishes.

It was the summer of 2009. After 8 years of living in this old house, I was finally unpacking everything that remained in my garage. And in so doing, I took stock of all of my dishes. I had to do this because I was trying to find places in the kitchen to store the boxes and boxes of fragile emotional crutches I’d been hoarding. I considered storing dishes under the bed for about twenty seconds, but nixed that idea. I don’t want to have to clean around them, and it’s bad Feng Shui.

You see, I’ve made this asinine rule about bringing more stuff into the house. If I bring anything in, something else has to go out. It’s a hard-ass approach to an unendurable clutter issue. I’m determined I’m going to create a Zen environment, one in which I can actually focus to…you know…write.

So in that summer of 2009, I took inventory. In all, I had eight complete sets of china. I had one service for 36. All matching.

That’s right. I could have served a sit-down dinner for 36 people all on matching dishes.

Now, let’s stop, for just a moment, and consider my actual life.

My dining room—or perhaps we should call it a “nook”-- is 12’X12’.

I’m presently sitting at the round oak dining table, with my laptop propped up on a copy of Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dianna Love’s BLOOD TRINITY as I write this. The rest of the table is covered with stacks of paper of all kinds. Bills, manuscripts, week-old mail, magazines, receipts I need for tax prep, and stuff to be filed. I shoved the paper back to make room for the laptop so I could type this blog. I’m trying to plan time in my schedule to get a dishwasher installed in the (very small) kitchen. Am I seriously going to do a sit-down dinner for 36?

Sure.

Maybe.

In my next life. Where I come back as Cosmic Empress of the Universe.

You know…the life when I have a staff of fifteen and three Five-Star commercial ranges in the kitchen. The kitchen which tastefully combines primitive pie safes and an antique butcher block island with granite countertops, two sinks and two Subzero refrigerators.

Yeah. That life.

On top of that, I don’t KNOW 36 people who I would bring in for a sit-down dinner all at once, unless I had all the cabana boys, the gladiators, the Bandits, and most of the Buddies over at the same time (Sorry, Ermingarde, but you won’t fit through the doorway). And besides, we’ve got the main hall of the Lair for those big parties.

Ah, but I had these visions of round tables draped with festive linens OUTSIDE you see, for a summer party on the lawn by the waterfall.

I can see the audience lean forward, and hear the question vibrating across the ether…..”You have a waterfall?”

No. I don’t. But I’d like to have one. And when I get my waterfall, I’ll sure-as-shootin’ have the dishes to support the darn thing.

See? It’s part of the fantasy.

It’s not that I’ve spent a lot of money on these dishes. I haven’t. My complete service for 36 was on clearance at Target. I paid $27 for all of it. Six sets of six. That’s less than a dollar per place setting!

Who could resist a deal like that?

And it was beautiful. Folk art representations of a village in all of the four seasons painted on the dishes. One season on each piece. I could just see it juxtaposed on a sage-green tablecloth with woven, mustard-yellow placemats and deep Aztec-red napkins, with a rich centerpiece made of red apples, golden pears, and jewel-tone turban squash, with autumn leaves scattered across the table. I’d weave in some gold-glitter-coated dried flower stems and gold-paint coated giant acorns, Then I’d set out some votives in deep red cut glass holders. My emerald-green stems with gold rims would be perfect. I’d turn the lights down and light the oil lamps and the table would glow.

Wouldn’t you like to eat a meal with good friends at a table like that?

I am a Goth, Martha-Stewart Mini-Me. I love all things beautiful and tasteful. I just happen to love them while I'm wearing black.

And I think pretty table settings are one of life’s most complete sensual experiences.

Think about it. Nobody serves Kraft mac & cheese on fine china. If the good stuff is laid out, you’re gonna get a home-cooked—or at least a home-catered—meal. And you’re going to sit down to that meal at a table laid out and decorated in a way that makes you stop and savor it.

I am hopeless.

I have dishes I’ve inherited. Some of them fairly valuable, though I’d have no idea how to sell such things. Some of them are quite ordinary, but hold fond memories because my grandmother served “dinner” (lunch for you city folk who don’t understand these things) to work hands on those dishes. Some of them are odd pieces of what I know to be collectible china, and some are 100-year-old pieces that I just think are beautiful. Platters, gravy boats, vegetable bowls and footed cake plates.

Jeanne’s post about decorating the Lair yesterday set this off. It's her fault. And the Christmas season makes it worse, yaknow….All the parties…all the opportunities to use that Lenox Holdiay china....

Let’s talk punch bowls for just a minute here.

When we did our First-Ever Bandit Bash in San Francisco in 2008, I created a wine punch recipe and then contacted our West-Coast Bandits, asking who had a punch bowl we could use for the Bash.

Not one.

That’s right. There are no punch bowls in California.

Apparently, people on the West Coast do not drink punch at baby showers.

I live in the south. I cannot comprehend this.

I called Jeanne, who lives in Maryland, but grew up in North Carolina, which is technically the Upper South.

“Do you have a punch bowl?” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “I have two.”

Ha! I was vindicated.

I have not one, but TWO punch bowls of my own. No matter that I use them only once every three years. I have one large cut-crystal punch bowl, complete with cut-crystal cups hanging on little s-hooks around its rim, which used to belong to my mom. And I have one smaller, blown-glass, footed punch bowl I earned as a bonus when I was a crystal dealer. It’s magical. Faeries would drink punch out of this bowl.

Yes. I was once a crystal dealer. Not only am I a dish whore, I was once a dish pimp.

I did a presentation to a group of ladies when I was a dish pimp, and have never forgotten the words of one woman, as she was moved to the point of poetry by the sparkle of the lights glinting off of the 24 percent lead crystal, and said, ”my lips LOVE to drink out of pretty glasses.”

Mmmmmm. Mine too.

Yesterday I stopped by a little consignment store at a corner I pass on my way into town. They had two pedestal punch bowls, complete with complete sets of matching cups. Dirt cheap. I very nearly came home with one.

I resisted. Just barely.

I have a deep disdain for paper plates. Even at picnics. I tolerate them only to experience the awesome food heaped upon them, and to be polite to the people I love.

But honestly? I want the picnic sets with the porcelain-like, hard plastic plates and the real silverware, all nestled in a pretty chintz-fabric-lined, lidded basket.

It’s not that I’m uber-formal. I’m not. I hate snobbery, and dislike formality as a rule.
One time I was in a five-star restaurant in Florida. You could have heard a pin drop in that place. (Totally NOT a fit for my personality) There was a little girl at the next table. The lace on her skirt was so stiff it cracked every time she moved. She had to speak in a whisper and looked about to cry. Absolutely miserable. I felt so bad for her.

The little guy who filled the iced tea was pestering the bejeebers out of me, filling it up every time I took a drink and messing up my sacred tea/sugar ratio. (It’s a sin to have to sweeten one’s own tea anyhow, especially in the South. What were they thinking?) I pointed to a spot low on my glass. I gave him my most threatening squint. “When the tea gets down to here,” I said, “you can come back. But not before that.”

His eyes got wide. He didn’t come back for a long time. I was way too loud for that restaurant.
I am not Miss Formal. Honest. I just like dishes.

No. I LOVE dishes. And pretty table settings. I love eating at a beautiful table.

I grew up on a farm in the country, eating on mismatched plates. I don’t know where this came from.

Seriously. I need professional help. Something is wrong with me.

Am I the only one?

Is there another Buddy out there who will raise your hand and say, “Yes, I am a dish whore!” along with me?

Or are y’all the paper-plate –for-dinner types?

I recognize that you paper plate types are, truly, the practical ones. It’s not that I can’t accept, intellectually, that you’re right.

I just don’t understand you.

I can’t relate.

Is there anybody out there like me? Do you love pretty dishes?

Do you stop and stare when you pass the Macy’s housewares window?

Do you covet the Lenox Holiday set, even though you’d only use it one month out of the year?

Be honest. You know you want it.

Don’t you?

Do you like sitting at a beautifully-laid table?

Or are you just as happy with paper plates and cups, and serving out of Tupperware?


Am I the only Dish Whore in the Bandit Lair?


Say it ain’t so.Source URL: https://gbejadacosta.blogspot.com/search/label/friends
Visit Gbejada Costa for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection

Friends and Festivities

by Anna Campbell

Firstly, some news for Aussie and New Zealand readers! The local edition of CAPTIVE OF SIN should be in a bookstore near you any day now, including all the usual places like Big W, Target and KMart. The trade paperback looks truly spectacular in the flesh. Keep an eye out for it!

The writing life is a very strange one. It's lots and lots of time by yourself to write the books. Sadly, sitting on your bottom at a keyboard in front of computer screen is the only way you meet deadlines and get those books out there. Then in between, there's all this wildly social excitement like the various conventions and conferences and just catching up on all the getting together with people that you miss out on when you're at home writing.

Just lately, I've had a hugely social time. I'm just back from a few days in Brisbane seeing my oldest friend and her family. We had huge fun, saw a big art exhibition at the Queensland Art Gallery, drank lots, ate lots, floated around in her pool - although with all I ate, I'm not quite sure that the physics of that makes sense. I think I should have sunk right to the bottom.

I also had a lovely day in town Christmas shopping and catching up with some of the local authors for a Christmas buffet. The fabulous Christine Wells (who has just been nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award for her wonderful WICKED LITTLE GAME, congratulations, Christine!) was there. It's always a buzz to catch up with a Bandita and distance means Christine is usually my Bandit on the spot!

One of the treats of visiting my friend Amanda is getting the chance to cuddle her beautiful Burmese kitten Toby. Well, he's supposed to be a kitten but I think he's just small. But he's beautifully formed and he loves to be adored. And I'm perfectly happy to adore him. He rather likes me as there's no hard spots on my body - in fact, I've started calling my tummy the cat Hilton because it's so comfortable and he likes to nestle there. See? All that eating and drinking comes in useful for someone!

This is a picture of Toby on the prowl. He's slightly darker now - more caramel than cream. He's a gorgeous creature - and doesn't he just know it?

November was full of visitors coming to my house to stay too, mostly writing people. Seriously, I think my liver is going to pack up its suitcase and move interstate!

The next photos are all courtesy of my good friend, Sharon Archer, who writes for Mills and Boon Medicals. Her debut SINGLE FATHER: WIFE AND MOTHER WANTED came out this year to great acclaim. I wish I'd been sober...um, smart enough to drag out the camera for my other visitors!

First up, I had the fabulous Christine Wells and Denise Rossetti, who writes sensual romantic fantasy for Berkley, to stay for the weekend. We had a lovely time floating around in the pool and eating. Oh, and talking. There's always plenty to say when we get together.

Then it was Sharon's turn to come up for a few days. Sharon escaped a heatwave where she lives in Victoria to hit one at my place. Temperatures definitely over where they should be. Again, we floated around in the pool - as you can see from this picture of a bathing beauty! Snork!

My final writing visitor for November was the wonderful Amy Andrews who also writes Medicals for Mills and Boons. Trish Morey, who writes for Harlequin Presents (her sheikhs are to die for if you're in the mood for something passionate and sexy and romantic), was up staying with some friends at Noosa. So Amy, Robyn Grady and I all drove up there from the southern end of the Sunshine Coast where I live. And yeah, drink a bit more. You can see why my liver is considering emigration. Robyn writes for Desire and Harlequin Presents - lots of writerly discussion. I think - I'm a bit hazy on the details, frankly!

Hic!

Anyway, after that rash of socializing, I'm hoping to attack my new story which is currently sitting at a pathetic two chapters. Oh, and get ready for Christmas. It's always such a busy time of year.

So enough name dropping for now! And I've foresworn the demon grape at least until sunset!

Are you planning on getting together with anyone special before Christmas? Any social plans that are outside your normal activities?

This is my last regular blog for the year so I'd like to raise my glass (oh, dear, that sunset rule didn't last too long, did it?) to the Banditas and our buddies! You've been absolutely fantastic and I love the fact that we've all hooked up together to drink...um, talk SERIOUS writing business!

Happy Christmas, everyone! And may Santa bring you exactly what you want. I'm hanging out for a life-size Richard Armitage but I'm not sure I've been good enough to qualify! Source URL: https://gbejadacosta.blogspot.com/search/label/friends
Visit Gbejada Costa for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection

Laeti Congregamur

by Nancy

No, that's not gibberish in the title. It's how the first line of the hymn "We Gather Together," my Thanksgiving favorite, translates into Latin. My high school Latin teacher provided translations of that hymn along with "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and "Ruldolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." I no longer remember the rest of it, but there's a full Latin translation of the lyrics here.

This is all a lead-in, of course, to the fact that it's Thanksgiving Day in the United States, a time when many Americans "gather together" with family and friends to commemorate the things and people for which we're grateful. Our blog community gathers daily, and I hope some of you will pop in today to join me and the gladiators and the cabana boys and maybe take the rooster home for a visit. Sometimes we're thoughtful, sometimes we have fun, and sometimes we mix our moods. No matter what feeling rules a particular day, I'm grateful for the Lair and its denizens, actual and virtual (because, really, there's power in imagination), and for all our buddies.

Just FYI, Sven and Demetrius are currently squabbling over who gets to carve the turkey, with Demetrius maintaining that his sword will do much better than that "dinky little knife" Sven is holding (it's a carving knife, actually, "dinky" only in relation to a sword). I'm just keeping my head down, trying to be invisible. They're the last two I want to referee between, and asking the rooster to help would be like throwing thermite on a fire.

When I was growing up, my mom worked at the college I later attended. Her secretarial position in the registrar's office let her get to know a lot of students. Those who lived too far away to go home for Thanksgiving often wound up at our dining room table. While I didn't always appreciate that at the time, I'm now thankful for the way those guests broadened my perspective on holidays and taught me to look beyond my immediate circle on such occasions.

Some of the students Mom befriended became friends of our family, too. I recently saw a couple of them at a gathering of the women in my college class. We go to the beach for a weekend every year, whoever can turn up. Even though there were comparatively few women in our class, I didn't know most of them well. I transferred in as a sophomore and so missed the orientation that would've brought me into contact with them.

I'm pleased to have made, after all these years, friends among the women I missed getting to know the first time around. So I'm grateful to Sue M. and Ann "Wicked" for pushing me to go the first time and for all the women who've participated during the years for weekends of camaraderie and memory. And to Van for posing with me and the Silver Surfer in the photo at the bottom of the blog (with only minimal wine involved).

My high school friends have started a community on Facebook to connect those of us who used to live near each other but have since scattered. I appreciate the ability to keep in touch with old friends and our collective past even though the level of activity on Facebook sometimes makes my mind go "tilt."

Reading comic books ignited my imagination. If a couple of guys from Cleveland, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, hadn't invented Superman, the superhero from whom all others flowed, I wouldn't have had that stimulus. So I give thanks for the creators of the many imaginary worlds I love and for the friends I've made through fandom and writing.

I'm grateful for the education that made me an insatiable history geek and for scholars and hobbyists who feed that interest. And for the dh's willingness to carry home suitcases full of books. As we had brunch on our honeymoon in San Francisco, on the first full day of our married life, we looked down from the glass-sided restaurant atop a hotel and were jointly thrilled to discover a bookstore a few blocks over. We went there immediately afterward and added to the total weight of our luggage. We spent our first New Year's together with him building and staining bookshelves in our living room because our joint book collection kept growing.

A few years later, as we walked through Gatwick Airport to catch our flight home, he had to stop every few feet and renew his grip on the suitcase. The woman behind him said, in a friendly voice, "What are you carrying--bricks?" He said, "No. Books." And sort of forced a smile. If he wishes the customs agent hadn't shared the news that books were duty free (at least then--except for dealers, I think--but that may have changed), he sweetly keeps that to himself.

And of course I'm grateful to have the dh and the boy (who once replied to a question about what he wanted to do when he grew up by thinking a moment and then saying, "I'd like to be someone who doesn't get arrested," a goal his father and I heartily support and for which we are thankful). The boy is taller than I am now and never loses an opportunity to remind me.

Our lives are enriched by our friends and extended families, who're also celebrating at their homes today. And, foolish as this may sound to some of you, by our yellow lab, the latest in the string of dogs who discovered they could be bosses of us.

We're having dinner with friends, who are contributing fabulous brownies for dessert. Since I'm utterly incapable of creating such a thing "from scratch," I'm grateful for people who can and for the warmth this family's presence will add to our table.

What are you doing today? Do you have a favorite Thanksgiving memory? A holiday that seemed bound for disaster but turned out well after all, or vice-versa? Have you made a friend later in life that you missed out on the first time around?

Do you love the Silver Surfer? Do you remember the name of his girlfriend, whom he never stopped missing? Do you have a friend who'd be willing to join you and the Surfer in a photo?


I have SFF samplers from DragonCon for two commenters today. To kick off the holiday season, I'm also including below the recipe for the dh's holiday favorite. Every year, his late mother made her Aunt Lillian's [Cringe-Proof] Fruitcake (as adapted, so it doesn't feed a battalion, by the dh's sister and brother-in-law).

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Aunt Lillian's Fruit Cake (Cringe-Proof, according to Nancy's dh)
This makes a spice cake with candied fruit and nuts in it.

Be sure to check ingredient list and adapt for any allergies. We use one large loaf pan and two small ones, filling them a couple of inches each, per batch. This cake does not rise.

Warning: Requires very large bowl to mix

Overnight, soak the following in inexpensive brandy:
1/2 cup chopped dates
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup chopped nuts
1 and 1/2 cups candied fruit (often sold as fruit cake mixture)
1/4 cup dried cranberries or dried cherries
1 tsp. grated orange peel

Mix the following and cream well:
1/2 cup shortening (butter)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar

Add:
2 beaten eggs
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
1 and 1/3 cups flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder

Mix well, then drain the brandy-soaked fruit and add it;

Mix well, then put into greased and paper-lined pans (use either parchment paper or brown paper);
Bake for about 3 hours at 275 degrees (Fahrenheit);
Test doneness with a toothpick--cake should not be doughy;
When cool, remove from pan and wrap in brandy-soaked dish towel (optional). Wrap in plastic and refrigerate until serving, sprinkling brandy on the cake every few days if desired.



Source URL: https://gbejadacosta.blogspot.com/search/label/friends
Visit Gbejada Costa for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection