the willies

Since it's Halloween week, and we're in the spirit of all things awful,
I must admit creepy humans, like Du Maurier's "Danny" Danvers,
are much more frightening to me than ghosts or spirits. Maybe it's
because I've lived for years in a house that's haunted by only kind
and gentle spirits. But, clowns, in my opinion, fall into the same
category of human scariness, as do murderers and saboteurs.

With grotesque face paint and mimery, a clown hides his true identity
from the public. I'm sure the majority of professional clowns strive to
entertain with pure motives. But, for me, clowns conjure certain
unsettling thoughts about disguising oneself, as a wolf in sheep's
clothing, in order to fool people. Partly to blame, is most likely the
yecchy painting, that hung in my bedroom as a little girl. No matter,
clowns give me a major case of the willies, and I'm not talking about
the Nelson variety, either.


Anti-Clown


If she showed up at my door
all whitefaced and Emmitt Kelly,
her rubber chicken
and hidden agenda,

I'd burst a balloon or two
by telling her to take a hike.
Go do her tightrope stunts
in someone else's living room.

Ride her weird clown bike
down the street,
where they would not oppose
her faux nose and floppy feet.

Frown smeared with lipstick,
the big top ringmaster,
tames her own lions
in slapstick disaster.



willow, 2009

Danvers

I think one of the most scary female villains ever is Mrs. Danvers,
the character in Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca. In fact, someone
brought her as a guest to the Manor Ball, and I've been thinking
about her ever since. Dame Judith Anderson, 1897 - 1992, played
the character in Hitchcock's chilling film version, and was nominated
for an Oscar for her brilliant performance. Anderson was an
Australian actress of stage and screen. She is generally regarded by
theater critics as the greatest classical actress produced by Australia.

You also might remember her in the role of Ann Treadwell in Otto
Preminger's Laura, 1944. In 1936, Anderson played Gertrude to
John Gielgud's Hamlet in a production which featured Lillian Gish
as Ophelia. And here's a fascinating note, in 1970 she realised a long
held ambition to play the role of Hamlet herself, which she did on a
national tour of the United States and at New York's Carnegie Hall
at the age of 73.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.

Pandering at Danvers' knee,
my sweaty palms all raw and green.
Listen, listen to the sea.

We all have our particular devil,
jump is what you need to do.
Go ahead, jump and it will all be done.

Blackmail fails, and thank the fates,
like Manderley, your protocol
goes up in flames.

I'm safe in exile, free from dread,
far away from Nazi games,
with Maxim, now my captain.

Do you think the jealous dead
come back to see the living?
Listen, listen to the sea.

I hope to God you never call on me.



willow, 2009

Xavier Mellery

Listen
...With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd,
break free from the trees
And fall.
.
Adelaide Crapsey

.

This time of year, I always think of the marvelously moody artwork

of the symbolic Belgian artist Xavier Mellery. In this painting,

Feuilles d'Automne, or Leaves of Autumn, 1893, Mellery has

enchantingly depicted the curled falling leaves of autumn as women,

entangled in a spider's web.

Those of you bloggy readers, who have been around awhile, probably

remember Mellery's The Rondo of The Hours, was my blog header

this time last year. I love this evocative piece, in which the women

represent the hours of time, dancing around a winged Death, sickle

raised. I might just have to put it up again, later this week, for

Halloween, and for Marc, who likes it so much.

.

This dramatic, atmospheric interior scene is titled My Hallway,

Light Effect, and aptly so. The chiaroscuro is conveyed in a

wonderful manner, with the soft interior lights playing off the walls

and ceiling at night. One of my faves is also Mellery's The Stairway,

(below, left) which reminds me so much of the front stairs at Willow

Manor (right).

.

overheard at the manor

There's been an incredible number of daily hits on the manor ghosts
link on my sidebar, and since it's Halloween week, I thought you
might enjoy some of the latest ghoulish happenings at the manor.

Recently, when WT was traveling, my sister came to spend the
weekend and keep me company. In the early evening, just the two
of us were alone in the house, in the sitting room off the kitchen,
pleasantly chatting away, talking over each other, as we often do,
about something really important, like face cream. Suddenly, the
hardware on the door of the landing, that leads to the garage, started
to rattle. We both jerked to attention and froze, facing each other,
mouths open. Then, to our amazement and horror, the door opened
with a loud, slow c-r-e-a-k. (No, there were no open windows, and
the garage doors were completely closed.)

"Oh, my gosh! Did you hear the doorknob rattling, before the door
actually opened?"

"I know. This kind of stuff happens all the time. You'd think I'd be
used to it by now."

The next morning, she came downstairs first and was in the little
powder room off the kitchen. As I rounded the back staircase, I was
shocked to see one of the large kitchen light fixtures (yes, one of
those lovely "boob lights", as I fondly call them) dangling on a wire,
four feet from the ceiling.

"Was the light hanging like this, when you came down?"

"No!"

"It just missed hitting your head by about 30 seconds!"

After we turned off the electricity, taped the live wires, and put the
fixture in the garage, for the man of the house to repair on his return,
I asked how she slept.

"Fine. Except, what was that dark shadow that kept moving from
left to right, in the hallway at the top of the front staircase?"

"You noticed it, too? I've always felt a presence in the hall at night,
but thought the dark movements were just my tired eyes playing
tricks on me."

"Well, it sure wasn't your eyes playing the tricks."
(for more on manor ghosts, click on "ghosts" in label section of this post)

Da Bus

It's time to hop aboard The Poetry Bus. One of the options this week
was to do the following, in the words of TFE:

Relax, blah blah, ham sandwich, yadda yadda, Drambuie, then take
10 mins to look at yourself in the mirror. Look at the colour of your
eyes, the windows of your soul, every tiny blemish, the crows feet,
the lines, the wrinkles, the facade, the public face, the private face.

Well, I was fresh out of Drambuie, but I had a ham sandwich, and
this is what I saw in the mirror:

Patron Saint

.

Deep in the mirror,
her eyes meet mine
in the glow
of her low-ceilinged room.

Ancient mother,
tends the hearth,
smoors the fire,
rakes my dreams
of earthy peat.

Her besom prayers
kindle bright,
while sacred three
light my night.

Then beckons me
with withy broom,
sweeps circled heaps
of embers,

St. Brighid offers solace
in her cinders.

willow, 2009

to my ancient grandmother, Anne Mackie, 1580, Galloway

"Smooring the fire" is an artistic and symbolic ceremony
performed by the woman of the house before retiring for the night.
A ritual blessing, recited over the fire in Gaelic is called "smaladh";
in Scottish, "smooring"; and in English "smothering". The embers
are evenly spread on the hearth and formed into a circle, which is
then divided into three sections, with peat laid between each.

As a prayer to St. Brighid, the first peat is laid down in name
God of Life, the second in name God of Peace, the third in name
God of Grace. The circle is then covered over with ashes
sufficient to subdue, but not to extinguish, the fire in name of the
Three of Light.

This makes me think "smores", the traditional campfire treat,
consisting of a layer of roasted marshmallow and a layer of
chocolate sandwiched between two pieces of graham cracker,
doesn't come from "s'more" or "give me some more", but rather
from the tradition of smooring the fire. Maybe the correct
spelling should actually be "smoors"?

Just so you know, a "besom" is a broom made of a bundle of strong
flexible "withy" or willow stems, the kind you imagine for a witch's
broom. How perfect for me, and so apropos for the season, too.

And hey, did you know St. Brighid is the patron saint of poets?

Zelary

I liked this Netflix pick so much, it deserves a post of it's own. This
romantic epic from director Ondrej Trojan, Zelary, Oscar nominated
(Best Foreign Language Film, 2003), is well worth adding to your
queue. The script is based on the autobiographical novella, Jozova
Hanule (Joe's Annie), by Květa Legátová. Set in Nazi occupied
Prague, in 1943, a sophisticated medical student, who is a member
of the Czech resistance, is betrayed to the Gestapo and is forced to
to marry a simple rural peasant, who agrees to hide her in the rustic
village of Zelary.


Posing as his wife, she is at first angry and defiant, but eventually
falls in love and becomes attached to the tranquil community. This
film was beautifully shot in rural Slovakia and set to a gorgeous
musical score. It's a quietly powerful film, full of charm and engaging
actors. It's definitely worth a watch. I give it a willowy two thumbs
up. This is a romantic epic, but by no means a chick flick. You'll like it.

very good condition

You may have noticed on my sidebar, I mention reading Charles Simic Selected Early Poems, which I recently ordered through Amazon. I decided to be frugal and order a used copy for $3.99. It was listed in "very good condition", but when it arrived, I found notes had been written throughout, words crossed out and circled. I don't mind an occasional charming note in the margin, but this one had been butchered. This makes me cringe, like fingernails on a chalkboard. I think from now on, I'll only buy used copies if I can see them first. Now don't get me wrong, there are times when I enjoy artistic graffiti, just not in my books. Anyway, I had fun writing the following poem.

Very Good Condition


The first had been chopped and diced,

drawn and quartered,

butchered by someone

who drew little circles to dot their i's.

Someone cut Charles Simic down to size.

They made no bones about

pushing a poet laureate

through the meat grinder,

taking a pound of flesh

from the block, fresh and pink.

At the table, they mocked his diction,

and dined on generous helpings

of circled lines, labeled fiction.

You know what I think?

Never trust purple ink.

willow, October 2009

the perfect afternoon

So, what did I do on my birthday? I went to one of my most favorite places in town, Karen Wickliff Books. I was in complete book heaven for the duration of the afternoon. Karen is a delightful lady who knows just about everything there is to know about books.

This charming used and rare book store has one of those carts on wheels parked at the entrance, drawing you in for a delicious browse. I always plan on a minimum of at least two hours, since popping in and out is absolutely impossible. The front door has a cheery little bell that jingles on my arrival.

One step on those creaky hardwood floors, and my heart beats just a tiny bit faster. The air is filled with the enchanting scent of old paper, wood and dust. There is shelf upon shelf of treasures just waiting to be discovered. In fact, this place has so many books, they are overflowing in huge stacks on the floor.

You guessed right. My first stop is in the poetry section. After an hour, or maybe two, I narrowed my stack to just three picks:

Rita Dove's Selected Poems

Seamus Heaney's Selected Poems 1966-1987

Pablo Neruda's The Captain's Verses

You know, I think I could easily spend a day or two in here. I could just sneak in my sleeping bag, and make myself comfy inside this giant mound of books. I'd need a flashlight, too, for reading after the shop closed up for the evening. Do you think anyone would notice?

today's special

Yup, that's me. And I am celebrating all day, beginning with a big
ol' fashioned festive breakfast of cornmeal waffles with real maple
syrup, and homemade sausage. Want to join me? The coffee's on,
so come on in, for my scrumptious birthday breakfast!

This wonderful recipe is from the August issue of Gourmet magazine,
which much to my great sadness, is closing up shop. How can they
possibly do this to me? Don't they know I'm their biggest fan? Well,
guess I'll be hanging on tightly to the past issues that are scattered
around the manor.


These delectable waffles quickly became one of my favorite things.
They're light, crispy and the heavenly corn flavor pairs perfectly
with real maple syrup. You mix them up the night before, so all you
have to do in the morning (and believe me, I'm not a morning person)
is the add the baking soda and heat up the waffle iron. Easy peasey.
If I can do this in my sleep, so can you!

Cornmeal Waffles

2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast
1/2 cup warm water (105-115 F)
2 large eggs
2 cups whole milk
2/3 cup stone ground cornmeal
1 2/3 cup flour
1 tsp sugar
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 stick unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1/2 tsp baking soda

Stir together yeast and warm water in a large bowl and let stand
until foamy, about 15 minutes. (if mixture doesn't foam, start over
with new yeast and make sure water is warm enough)

Whisk eggs and milk until combined. Whisk in cornmeal, flour,
sugar and salt until smooth, then whisk in butter. Chill covered,
overnight. Batter will bubble up and expand, slightly.

Next morning:

Add baking soda and stir.
Preheat Belgian waffle iron.

Yummity yum. (This recipe makes 4 whole Belgian waffles)


Oh, and by the way, I was two years old when the above picture was
taken in 1958, so you do the math. I am definitely not over the hill,
though. My feet are firmly planted on this side of that darned
ubiquitous hill.

Sylvia's Reprise

This week's instructions from TFE were to watch the movie Garage
and use it has a prompt to write a poem. Well, the only DVD version
I could find of this particular film was the non-American PAL format.
Darn. So, EEjit was kind enough to give us an alternative prompt of
listening to Sylvia Plath read her powerful poem, Lady Lazarus.
(You guessed right. He didn't have to ask me more than once.)

So, I'm hopping aboard [The Poetry Bus] with the following poem.


.

Sylvia's Reprise

Lady Lazarus
rises
from the ashes
of an empty
cigarette pack,

exhumes
her Venus
shell,
from a turning
burning
death camp
hell.

Heaven's
verdant stole
she vamps
from me,

while Zephyrs
puff and drag
her craven soul
to sea.

.

willow, 2009

.

artwork: Botticelli's Birth of Venus

my neck of the woods

Last Sunday, while the staff was preparing for the manor ball, it was
a perfect day, so WT and I took off in the old green Land Rover on a
glorious fall drive up to Delaware. No, not the state, the little Ohio
town, named after the Delaware Indians.


The main street is the charming typical vintage American

style, and what used to be the business heart of the town, with banks

and hardware stores, is now filled with antique shops and such.

There's a great vintage clothing store with Kramer in the window,

peeping out, one eyebrow raised, from the hats and accessories.

The sidewalks have been nicely bricked and wonderful lush moss
(I know. I am nutty for moss.) is growing between. I found two lovely
brown vintage bottles; a large twelve inch pharmacy bottle, and a
very old nine inch Phillips Cod Liver Oil, New York. Both treasures
for $10.

ghostly voices

"Some Enchanted Evening' has been playing in my head ever since

the magnificent Bryn Terfel sang it at the Manor Ball, which got me

thinking about the movie South Pacific. Did you know that Rossano

Brazzi was actually dubbed by the dashing Giorgio Tozzi, a leading

bass for many years at the Metropolitan opera? I've always

wondered why Tozzi, himself, wasn't cast in the role of the

Frenchman, Emile de Becque.

.

I had the good fortune to meet the ever-so-charming Mr. Tozzi

when he was Professor of Voice at Indiana University's distinguished

Jacobs School of Music, when my daughter was an undergrad in the

program. (That's Tozzi, pictured above on the left, with Rossano

Brazzi. Personally, I think Mr. Tozzi is much more handsome.)

Speaking of dubbed voices, Marni Nixon is known as "The Ghostess

with the Mostess" since she dubbed some of the most famous female

musical film roles ever. Gosh, she's so beautiful, I'm thinking the

same thing. Why wasn't she cast in these fabulous roles, since she

did all the fabulous singing? (That's Nixon pictured above with

Deborah Kerr.) She had the uncanny ability to adapt her singing

voice to sound exactly like the actual actresses' speaking voices.

Some of the highlights of her career were providing Marilyn Monroe

with a few top notes in her performance of "Diamonds Are a Girl's

Best Friend" in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), the singing voice

for Deborah Kerr in the Rodgers & Hammerstein's The King and I

(1956), Deborah Kerr's singing voice again in An Affair to Remember
(1957), the singing voice for Natalie Wood in West Side Story (1961).

Nixon also sang some parts of the score of Anita by Rita Moreno.

In parts of the quintet setting of the song "Tonight", she sings both

Maria and Anita's lines, according to her autobiography. And one

more, she also did the singing voice for Audrey Hepburn as Eliza in

My Fair Lady (1964).

Nixon's many dubbing roles did not appear on the titles of any of the

films, and she did not begin to be fully credited or widely

acknowledged until the movies' subsequent release on VHS, decades

later. She has now, under her own name, recorded songs by Jerome

Kern, George Gershwin, Arnold Schönberg, Charles Ives, and Anton

Webern. The gorgeous Ms. Nixon is still singing today, by the way, at

the age of 78.

the morning after

Come on in and help yourselves to some delicious brunch. Michael
was kind enough to stay and make some of his fabulous bacon rolls.
There's also plenty of mimosas, extra strong coffee, and some of Mr.
Toast's famous homemade mulled wine.

Well, I must say that I am totally overwhelmed by the astonishing
turnout and obvious enthusiasm for the Second Annual Willow
Manor Ball. The number of you who actually held mini-satellite
versions of the ball at your own blogs was simply amazing.

Some of the highlights of the evening, besides all the exciting celebs,
was the strange Drambuie brew that TFE brought along, completely
rendering us insane with one little sip, the SnL One jet ride from
Skip and the Silver Fox, a fabulous dune buggy show on the front
lawn from Thomas Crown, and Reya reading from her crystal ball in
the manor library.

This fun event would have been nothing without all the wonderful
imaginations and efforts of all of you dear, dear bloggy friends. Thank
you from the bottom of my heart. It truly was an enchanted evening.


And lastly, we have a winner for the door prize, which happens to be a
gorgeous pale blue crystal paper weight. The method I used to choose
a winner was the 200th commenter, with a backup of number 100, if
we didn't make it all the way to the big 200.

So, congratulations, Steven, for being number 200! Please email me
your snail mail address for shipping.

some enchanted evening

Welcome to the Second Annual Willow Manor Ball! Just like last
year, we cleared the furniture from the front room, and rolled up
the carpets for a perfect dance floor. Every nook and cranny of the
manor is filled with candles and the most exquisite red roses.

Please check into the comment section and tell me who is

accompanying you and what music you would like to hear, or just

say "hello" and let me know you popped in. Remember, most of the

fun takes place behind the scenes, in the manor comment section,

so don't forget to take a gander.

If you would like us to visit your blog for this big event, or you

would like to visit our satellite blog parties, please make sure

you visit the Mr. Linky widget in the previous post.

Thank you so very much for coming and I hope you enjoy the

evening, which is miraculously lasting all day long. Everyone who

leaves a comment today will be included in the drawing for an

elegant door prize. So, please come in and enjoy. There's plenty of

Tinkerbell sparkle to last the entire day!

Oh, well. What's a royal ball? After all, I suppose

it would be frightfully dull, and-and-and boring,

and-and completely... completely wonderful.

.

Cinderella

Well, there

was a bit

of drama,

to start off

this year's

ball, since

Sir

Anthony

Hopkins

was

already

here at

the manor

when

Johnny Depp drove up in his cute red convertible and warmly greeted me with a kiss. Tony, feeling a tad jealous, pulled

a gun on Johnny and I had to diffuse the situation, by promising both

lovely men I would pay equal attention to them for the duration of

the evening. Poor me, I'll try my best to manage both single handed.

I must admit, I had no idea Tony had such

strong feelings for me. I reminded him

that Johnny and I could very easily be

distant cousins, and he had nothing to

worry about in the romance department.

Tony has become a bit more bold in

recent days, a departure from his

Remains of the Day demeanor. I'm sure

it must be that Fractured role that made

him so handy with the pistol.

Tony, ever the elegant
gentleman, quickly put
away the gun and I was
completely relieved as

the two shook hands and

smiled, amicably. (Yes,

this is me, greeting

Johnny on his arrival at

the manor. I'm wearing

an amazing red satin gown.

More on that in a bit...)

Whose idea was it to

have two dates,

anyway? Remind me

next year to just pick

one. I know. Libras can

never decide.

In the
meantime,
Johnny
made
himself
comfortable
on the steps

of my manor

library, and

I mixed

both of them a nice drink. Depp and books? Ooo-la-la!

As you remember,

Tony was my date at

last year's Manor Ball.

He has again,

graciously agreed to

play a bit of the

Goldberg Variations,

he played in

Hannibal, for us later

tonight. Did I

mention he dances

like a god? Looking

him directly

in the eyes, while

dancing, is making

me absolutely weak

in the knees. Last

year, I swooned, just

so he would catch me. I think I just might have to do it again. He's probably going to think I'm a narcoleptic. What I am most

looking forward to, however is filling my dance card with the

names of all you lovely bloggy gentlemen. Now, where's the

elegant Mr. PhilipH? He asked for my first dance. I'm saving the

last waltz for the charming Mr. Maalie.

This is me, wearing

this incredible

Ives Saint Laurent

red gown, I won at

Christie's in New York.

It's said to have been

owned by Audrey

Hepburn.

Don't I look

simply cyberlicious?

She and I are the

same size you know,

since anything is

possible at the Manor

Ball. It's truly

amazing what a

little pixie dust

can do.

I found the most amazing Cartier

diamond earrings that just match

my diamond and ruby necklace.

Do you think they're too much

worn together?

Nah.

It took me forever

to find the perfect

shoes, since I want

to dance til dawn

and still be light

on my feet, as well

as stylish. I finally

settled on this

fabulous pair by

Jimmy Choo. Oh,

and, you like my

scent? I rang up

Coco (Chanel)

and she

concocted this

magical fragrance

just for me. Heaven.

I am

especially

delighted,

another

heart

throb, the

dreamy

Roger

Livesey,

(you know

him from

the film

I Know

Where

I'm

Going) is here.

I was so hoping he would wear his kilt from the movie, since I am totally nutty for a man in a kilt, but he looks simply dashing in his top hat and tails, don't you think? Here he is chatting with our housekeeper upon his arrival at the manor. Now, I especially counting on Barry to keep his promise to wear his tartan. Sorry, Linda, forgive me if he does.

Our Master of Ceremonies

is the magnificent baritone, Bryn Terfel.

Here's a peep of him yesterday,

with the orchestra,

rehearsing the opening song

for tonight,

Some Enchanted Evening.

(I've got him penciled into my dance

card more than once!)

The debonair Silver Fox

has practiced his dance

steps, not wanting to be

out done by Fred Astaire's

fancy hoofing. Get in line

with your dance cards,

girls. Wait a minute...

is this Mr. Fox or Cary

Grant? I can never tell.

There

are crates

of fabulous

vintage

champagne!

I think I'll

help myself

to a glass of

bubbly right

now. Would

you like one,

too? Here, let

me drop in a strawberry. Oh, how pretty. Cheers! Go ahead, feel free to throw your glass and crash it into the fireplace.


Please help yourself to all this wonderful fancy food, including caviar

and seafood tapas. No expense was spared in hiring the best caterers

in town, in fact they are the same excellent ones we used last year.

I don't know about you, but I'm starved from all this hopping

around the

dance floor.

Let's dig in!

Last year,

Tom Hanks

was seen

scraping

off all the

caviar

garnishes.

Don't let

him do

it again.

And last, but not least, for

all of us who have a sweet

tooth, there are lots of

lovely desserts, including

this scrumptious chocolate

mousse tart with raspberries.

Mmm. Don't be shy. Since

these are, of course, cyber

sweets we can eat as many

of these lovelies as we like

and not worry about

gaining a single ounce!

How fun is this?!

Well, it's time for one last

slow dance. Let's venture

out to the patio...

The weather is gorgeous tonight.

The patio is lit and set with tables.

It's soooo romantic.

(((sigh)))

It was a lovely evening, was it not?! After dancing until
the wee hours of the morning, I must get my beauty sleep.

Stop in for brunch around noon tomorrow and we'll chat about all
the fun bloggy scuttlebutt.

Ta-ta, my friends!

Sweet dreams!

(((kiss-kiss)))

Don't forget to visit all the fabulous
bloggy extension parties listed below!

scent of a woman

Things are all a flutter here at the manor. I met with the caterers
today and hired some hunky young guys to do valet parking. But,
the most important task on my list today is polishing up my tango
steps. I know this isn't the tango of purists, but I adore this scene
from Scent of a Woman. Maybe it will inspire some of you who are
still undecided about attending the big cyber event of the year.
All you have to do is pop over any time on October 13, with your
imagination firmly intact, and prepare yourself for a ton of fun!

And just in case you're wondering, Herr Mozart has promised to
grace us with his presence again this year. He was a huge hit with
the ladies last year, as well as honoring us with some amazing
musical feats. I've also heard Peter Ustinov, Gregory Peck and
Omar Sharif just might be showing up, as well.

This weekend, I will be posting a Mr. Linky widget for those of you
who would like us to visit your own blogs on October 13, to see what
you are wearing to the Manor Ball or who your special guest might
be, so keep an eye out.

Speaking of Scent of a Woman, I must decide on the perfect, "drive
my dancing partners mad", perfume. Any suggestions?

shopping for the big event

I just finished an afternoon at Christie's Auction House in New York,
and I am happy to report I was the winning bid on a fabulous over-
the-top vintage gown. Amazingly enough, it fits me like a glove and
won't need a bit of alterations. I'm keeping it secret, though, until the
big event. I really wanted to bid on this glorious little Spanish crown,
but it was a tad too small. On me, it conjured images of the fairy

godmother, not Cinderella.

.

Mr. Mmm was telling me about how his mother worked at the South
Kensington branch of Christie's in London for over a decade, and was
in charge of the natural history section. What an amazing job. He told
me of one particularly thrilling auction of Napoleon's famous jacket.

The official company literature states that founder James Christie
conducted the first sale in London, England on December 5, 1766.
Christie's main London salesroom is on King Street in St. James's,
where it has been based since 1823. It has a second London
salesroom in South Kensington which opened in 1975 and primarily
handles the middle market. Christie's South Kensington is one of the
worlds busiest auction rooms. As of January 2009, Christie's had 85
offices, not all salesrooms, in 43 countries.

Did you know the Christie's New York sign was created by Nancy
Meyers during the production of the film Something's Gotta Give,
for an exterior shot? The auction house liked the sign so much they
requested the production leave it after shooting finished.

the ritz

The big cyber event of the year is just one week away. I'm off to
Christie's Auction House tomorrow to bid on a fabulous vintage gown.
The latest scuttlebutt is that Michael is wearing an oh-so-classy pair
of spats, just like Fred Astaire! (Rumor also has it, by the way, that
Mr. Astaire will be making a brief appearance on the 13th.) So, my
bloggy friends, it's time to get those fancy duds out of moth balls and
polish up your dancing shoes. We're going all out and puttin' on the
ritz at the Manor Ball.

I've got call into Johnny Depp, but Sir Anthony Hopkins, "Tony", my
date to the Manor Ball last year, got wind of it and apparently is ever-
so-jealous. Gosh, what is a girl to do?

If you're blue and you don't know

where to go to why don't you go

where fashion sits

Puttin' on the Ritz

pencil me in

Hey, I hope you are getting your dance cards ready for next week's
big event, here at the manor. Did you know that the dance card,
also known by its German name, Ballspende, or plural Ballspenden,
is used to record the names of those with whom are intended to
dance each successive dance at a formal ball? They appear to have
originated in 18th century, but their use first became widespread in
19th century Vienna.

An actual dance card is typically a booklet with a decorative cover,
listing dance titles, composers, and the person with whom a woman
intended to dance. Typically, it would have a cover indicating the
sponsoring organization of the ball and a decorative cord by which it
could be attached to her wrist or ball gown. From the 19th century
until World War I, dance cards for the elite of Austria-Hungary were
often very elaborate, with some even incorporating precious metal
and jewels.

In modern times the expression "dance card" is often used
metaphorically, as when someone says "pencil me into your dance
card", meaning "find some time to spend with me". When someone's
"dance card is full" it implies they have no time for, or interest in
another person. So, please do pencil me into your bloggy dance
cards for next Tuesday, October 13th. Be there or be square!

info from Wikipedia and photos from google images

back alley

TFE challenged us to "get on da poetry bus" for Monday and write
a poem from one or more of his ten inspiring photos. So, without
further ado, I chose this evocative picture, and my poem follows.
For more participants, pop on over to TFE's blog [HERE].

Back Alley


Running late,
I dropped my life
at the dry cleaners.

Down the alley,
I slipped the cold nickles
from my eyes,
and tossed them

in the busker’s plate
on the pavement,
under the graffiti art,
and classifieds.

The hot dog vendor,
looked a lot
like Jesus,
and his pushcart,

filled with the sacraments
of fries and pickles,
was not what
I expected.


Willow, 2009