Widow's Endorphins: Lucky Number 8,888

Widow's Endorphins: Lucky Number 8,888: WE did it!  Widow's Endorphins just reached 8,888 views, thanks to YOU dear friends!  If you were the person who clicked on the blog...

Lucky Number 8,888

WE did it!  Widow's Endorphins just reached 8,888 views, thanks to YOU dear friends!  If you were the person who clicked on the blogsite at 5:35pm Eastern Daylight Time today, the best of good fortune to you!  The Chinese believe the number eight brings good luck.  What will four in a row bring?

Funny how the last blog post was about dreaded piano recitals.  I may not tickle the 88's, I sure am tickled by them!

The Oxalis  blossoms are taking a bow.

Photograph Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.  

Widow's Endorphins: Piano Recital

Widow's Endorphins: Piano Recital: It's that time of year... Across the country, in small school auditoriums, community centres and family homes, palms are sweat...

Piano Recital

It's that time of year... Across the country, in small school auditoriums, community centres and family homes, palms are sweating over the dreaded piano recital.  It's a traumatic, humiliating time for those of us who are musically challenged.

All those black dots on black lines.  When I played them, it sounded like this:  I am glad.  I am glad. I can play, and I am glad.  What's the Italian word for expressionless monotone?  I Am Glad was the very first piece of music I was taught to play, using notes to the right of Middle C. The following week, I learned (wait for it...) I Am Sad, played with notes to the left of Middle C.  Sad doesn't begin to describe it!

As the years went by, the sheet music became more tangled with black dots, and squiggles.  Yet, the music, was embarrassingly dull.  I had Soul in my heart!  Even as a little girl, I would listen to Nat King Cole on the radio, and a few years later, dance in the living room to the latest music out of Motown.  I detested piano practice, and to this day, have an aversion to metronomes.  

Something happened during what was probably my last stomach churning piano recital.  I don't remember the unremarkable piece which I was to play.  I only remember standing alone in front of the piano, that hot Spring evening, wearing the white dress which my Mum had hand sewn for me (with matching white knee socks, because I wasn't old enough to wear panti-hose).  I knew I was blushing a deep red, because I could feel the heat blazing across my cheeks.

I took a deep breath, and in my most sombre voice, announced the name of the piece, and the composer.  Everything else is a blur.  There was muffled, polite applause...not unlike these clapping Hydrangea petals...

As we were leaving, my best friend's Mom told me that, when I announced the name of the piano piece, a woman seated nearby said, "that girl has a lovely voice".

So, I became a broadcaster!  Some of my happiest memories are of the days spent at Vancouver's CKWX and CJAZ.  The AM station upstairs played country music, and the FM station downstairs played jazz.  I wrote and read newscasts for both, running up and down stairs between the two very different demographics.  Never a music DJ, I had the good sense to stay on the News side of the glass divide.  There's a saying in radio news, that "you're only as good as your last newscast", which is just another way of saying, that every newscast is your own version of the piano recital.

Wish I knew who to give credit to, for the Cause and Effect cartoon, which makes me laugh every time I see it.

The stunning white Hydrangea blossom is from Florigens Design, here in Toronto.

Photographs copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Fireworks and Flowers

Widow's Endorphins: Fireworks and Flowers: It's Victoria Day!  In many parts of Canada, it's a day of gardening, barbecues, and fireworks.  The national holiday in honou...

Fireworks and Flowers

It's Victoria Day!  In many parts of Canada, it's a day of gardening, barbecues, and fireworks.  The national holiday in honour of Queen Victoria's birthday, is the unofficial start of Summer.  

It wouldn't be Canada without regional differences.  While a holiday in Quebec, it is definitely not named for the English Queen. Journee nationale des patriotes, is still celebrated with family barbecues, and trips to garden centres.  While Toronto celebrations are marked with two nights of thunderous fireworks, Victoria Day fireworks are unheard of in Vancouver.   

Across Canada this Victoria Day, gardeners are beginning to plant (or at least preparing to plant) floral gardens which will give them an explosion of vibrant colour more beautiful than any fireworks display.  

Photographs copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Little Black Purse

Widow's Endorphins: Little Black Purse: Somewhere, in almost every woman's closet, is an iconic "little black dress".  It may no longer fit, but it will never be ...

Little Black Purse

Somewhere, in almost every woman's closet, is an iconic "little black dress".  It may no longer fit, but it will never be cast aside (it knows too much!).  The real party girl though, is the best friend of the little black dress, the little black purse.  Many a secret is found tucked inside the pockets of that little black purse: theatre tickets, concert tickets, old wedding invitations.

Mum's vintage black beaded clutch carried no more than a small rectangular mirror, a comb, and lipstick (often in the same coral colour as the Peony in the photograph).  Sometimes the purse would make room for an invitation card, however, Dad usually carried that in the pocket of his suit.

After Dad died, Mum's little black purse sat in a dresser drawer for many years, until my youngest sister and I thought it needed to get out of the house.  That little black purse has enjoyed discos, dinners and receptions from Vancouver to Quebec City.  Counting the events with Mum and my sister, she's been out more than I have!  Long after the little black dress has cleared the dance floor, the little black purse is still twirling on someone's wrist.

If you've been waiting for me to reveal one of the secrets tucked inside the little black purse, my Soft Silver Rose number 430 Pearl lips are sealed!

Photographs copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: May Day Dew Drops

Widow's Endorphins: May Day Dew Drops: The ancient secret to a dewy fresh complexion?  Dew drops gathered before sunrise on the First of May, is a centuries old recipe for h...

May Day Dew Drops

The ancient secret to a dewy fresh complexion?  Dew drops gathered before sunrise on the First of May, is a centuries old recipe for healthy, glowing skin.  Not being a morning person, I'll never know.

Far from a fairy tale, the Celtic tradition was written about in 1652, in The Natural History of Ireland, by Dr. Gerard Boate.  In his day, women would gather dawn's dew drops from May to June.  The dew on wheat, according to Dr. Boate, "hath more vertues and is better for all purposes than that which hath been collected from the grass, or other herbs".  

The women would either hold a container under a sprig of flowers, and tap it gently, letting the drops fall; or, they would collect the dew in a linen cloth, then wring it out into a container.  It would then be poured into a glass bottle, and kept in a sunlit spot.  Dr. Boate says that, "after some days rest some dregs and dirt will settle to the bottom."  Those impurities would be flung away, and the clear, filtered dew would be poured into another bottle for use throughout the year.  

It was a tradition embraced by the upper classes.  Dr. Boate states, "The English women and gentlewomen of Ireland did use in the beginning of Summer to gather good store of dew, to keep it by them at the year after for several good uses both of physick and otherwise, wherein by experience they have learnt it to be very available."

The dew was said to prevent wrinkles, freckles and sunburn, cure headaches and sore eyes.  Walking barefoot in the morning dew prevented bunions and corns.  

It was the dew gathered on May Day that was most highly prized.  On the night of April 30th 1667, Mrs. Pepys went to Woolwich.  Her husband, Samuel wrote about it in his diary (for younger readers, that's like a blog, only it's written in a book, and is usually private - otherwise, it is exactly the same thing!).  He said that Mrs. Pepys had gone to collect May dew, "which Mrs. Turner hath taught her is the only thing in the world to wash her face with". 

Women would then let the dew drops absorb into the skin, and dry their faces with fresh air and sunshine.  They never towel dried the dew drops from their skin. 

Young women would spend the night in the forest, to be up before dawn to gather the dew.  They were not alone.  As far back as 1583, the Puritan, Philip Stubbes wrote with great concern about maidens spending May Day Eve in the woods.  "I have heard it credibly reported...by men of great gravity and reputation that of forty, three scores, or one hundred maids going to the wood overnight, there have scarcely the third part of them returned home again undefiled.  These be the fruits which these cursed past times bring forth."  May First was the dew date, and February First was the due date.

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.