Aunt Shirley and the Brownies

The very first thing my husband ever told me about his Aunt Shirley was about her brownies. You see, Aunt Shirley brought homemade brownies to every family dinner.

These were not just any brownies, mind you. These were generally recognized as the "Best Brownies in the World." My husband insisted that he had in all his days never tasted brownies better than Aunt Shirley's, and my husband is somewhat of a brownie connoisseur. After several years, Aunt Shirley's special recipe was finally revealed - she made her brownies using Duncan Hines Brownie Mix.

When we were planning our wedding eight years ago, my husband  was delighted when Aunt Shirley, then 80, called to tell him she would be able to come to the wedding.  Her son Seth was flying from his home in New Mexico to New Jersey to meet up with his mom, and then flying with her to Pittsburgh for the wedding.

When Aunt Shirley asked my husband what we wanted for the wedding, he answered truthfully that her presence would be gift enough, and then jokingly added, "Unless you want to bring me some of those brownies of yours - they were always my favorite."

Aunt Shirley and Seth were flying in the day before the wedding in time for the rehearsal dinner.  Unfortunately their plane had been delayed and they had endured a rather lengthy wait in airport terminals on their way to Pittsburgh.  So we were all seated and having dinner when they arrived - a very tired man and his gentle, soft-spoken mother, looking none the worse for wear, carefully carrying a pan of her homemade brownies covered in aluminum foil, which she had made for her nephew because he loved them so.

It seems that Aunt Shirley had carried those brownies in her arms and on her lap all the way from New Jersey - in the car, through airport terminals, on the plane.  She shared the story of her encounter getting the brownies past the security guards in these post-9/11 days of air travel.  The guards gave her a mock hard time, saying that perhaps they needed to confiscate these brownies, in case she was smuggling some contraband in them.  She explained to them that she was taking them to her nephew who was getting married in Pittsburgh, as a special present for him, because, you know, he really loved her brownies.  The guards thought it over, and let her pass with a smile, her brownies intact.

My husband shared Aunt Shirley's brownies with me.  They were some of the best brownies I'd ever tasted.

It was clear to me that Aunt Shirley's secret brownie ingredient was all the love she put into making them and sharing them.

Aunt Shirley passed away yesterday after a long illness, almost exactly eight years after I first saw her, walking into the rehearsal dinner carrying her pan of brownies.  Aunt Shirley accomplished many things in her life besides transforming Duncan Hines brownies into something special.  She had been a newspaper editor and writer, had raised a family, and still occasionally wrote a column on Senior issues in a local paper after her retirement.

As for me, I will never eat a brownie without thinking of Aunt Shirley, with love.

Thankful for the Little Things

I’m really not all that complicated or mysterious. My husband always tells me that my instruction manual is about a page long and can be summarized in just four words: “Be nice to me.”

It’s very true that I find pleasure in small things. When my husband and I were getting ready for the Early Thanksgiving dinner that we hosted at our house yesterday, there were lots of little things that were making me very happy.

The scent of the turkey and the fixings filling the house put me in a pretty good mood. This made me count my lucky stars to have a husband who doesn’t just cook, but creates delicious feasts for our dinner guests. I later followed my bliss by thoroughly enjoying eating that mouthwatering meal. I am also glad that I enjoy turkey so much, as this would be just the first time I would be eating it this week.

I couldn’t find the nice paper dinner napkins that I was certain that I had in the house somewhere. I realized that my dinner guests were not the kind of people who would care if I used the everyday paper napkins for dinner. I had thousands of those. I appreciated my down-to-earth family and friends.

I also really enjoyed vacuuming the house with my brand new vacuum cleaner, which actually sucks up the dirt (unlike the one we recently threw away) and is self-propelling. The piece de resistance is that it also has neat storage compartments for all the attachments built right onto the vacuum itself.

As I was repositioning the living room chair that we picked up on a whim at an antique store when visiting Geneva-on-the-Lake in April, I had to stop one more time to admire it. It makes me very happy every time I look at that chair.

I realized that preparing the house for guests was actually a pleasurable experience. I loved my house one more time for being such a perfect home for us and such a welcoming place for our visitors.

On Thanksgiving we are supposed to give thanks for our blessings. I am very blessed, and I am actively grateful every day of the year for the wonderful people in my life – my husband, my son, my family and dear friends. So it is fitting that our pre-Thanksgiving dinner reminded me to also be thankful for the little things.

Not in Your Size

My husband treated me to lunch at Habitat the other day, the new trendy restaurant in the Fairmont Hotel in Pittsburgh. The food was exceptionally good, but the décor was just as interesting and intriguing, and as special as the company. As a bonus, Larrimor’s (the upscale clothing store) was having a promotion, and we each got a $50 gift certificate to the store.


I was skeptical about finding anything at Larrimor’s. I’ve never been in the store, and not just because it is upscale (code for “ridiculously expensive”). I am actually willing to shop the sale rack at the upscale places, but I presumed that they would not carry plus sizes. However, I had made that same assumption about Saks, where I found my most beautiful burgundy wedding dress for a fraction of the original price, so I tagged along after my husband to Larrimor’s.

It was clear when we walked in that the store stocked primarily men's clothing, with just a very small women's department. I thought I would just cut to the chase with the salesperson who asked if she could help me. I asked if they carried plus sizes. She got that pained, disapproving look that the elite sometimes exhibit when encountering the lower classes. “Well, no, we don’t,” she said, “We do have some things that are one-size-fits-all. It IS a boutique, after all. You know how that goes.”

Actually, I don’t know that much about boutiques because they don’t usually carry plus sizes. I decided to look around at handbags and scarves and things, but I quickly found out that not only don’t Larrimor’s wares come in my size they don’t come in my style either.

The salesperson continued to try to assist and engage me, probably in a sincere effort to provide good, personalized customer service.  Either that, or she felt badly because they didn’t carry my size.  Maybe she just didn’t want to lose a sale. “So you’re just visiting here?” she asked brightly. I explained proudly that I was Pittsburgh born and raised and had lived here all my life. “And you’ve never been here before?” she asked accusingly. I reminded her that they didn’t carry plus sizes. I was here now and there was nothing for me to buy.

I decided to go where I was welcome. Avenue, my favorite little downtown plus-size women’s clothing store, was having a huge sale. The merchandise there is inexpensive at full price, but not cheaply made. Not only do they carry my size, they carry clothes that are actually cut for people my size. The salespeople occasionally ask me if I’m finding everything alright, and are always helpful if I should ask for their help, but otherwise leave me alone to browse. Sometimes the clearance items are practically free.

An article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette today which was talking about the dwindling of the women’s fashion retail choices in downtown Pittsburgh with the downsizing of Macy’s and the closing of the Sak’s store stated that “…Larrimor’s is thinking about expanding its women’s fashion section…” (http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/11317/1189300-28-0.stm#ixzz1ddVLSNAU ).

Hey, what a great idea! Here's a crazy thought - maybe they could expand their customer base even further by expanding their thinking as well, and stocking some clothing for the more expansive women out there.

Hey, Make Me Over

Last week I stumbled upon an updated version of The Look for Less on the Style Network. It pitted a Celebrity Stylist against a Budget Fashionista (whatever THAT is) in finding two stylish outfits for a woman. They had $250 and two days to complete the challenge, and they could each choose two pieces from her existing wardrobe with which to work.


The woman they were helping was a motivational speaker who had been unemployed for a year and a half, and had really hit bottom in terms of her self-esteem, which was also having an adverse effect on her relationship with her boyfriend. She had, in effect, lost her motivation and her mojo. She wanted a professional look to jump start her career, and a date look to rekindle things with her boyfriend.

So, I’m thinking, “Wow! $250 AND two pieces from her closet? Where’s the challenge in that?” The Celebrity Stylist is just flabbergasted at the budget (as if he didn’t know what it would be until this moment), and says that $250 wouldn’t even buy an accessory for one of his celebrities. The Budget Fashionista is pretty smug about her ability to show the Stylist what’s what on how to shop on a budget.

The Stylist puts together a very smart business look using an out-of-date blazer with an attached pocket square that the woman already owns. He updates this blazer primarily by removing the pocket square, and they all applaud his genius in coming up with this idea. The Fashionista, the so-called expert on budget shopping, chooses an ankle-length, strapless floral dress with a mismatched green scarf thrown over it which looked more like it belonged at Woodstock than in a workplace, for her business look. Clearly, she has no concept of how people dress when their occupation involves giving inspiring and instructive speeches to other professionals. Both of them chose dressy short-shorts for her date look, which I found curious. Maybe that is a fad in Southern California. Not surprisingly, the woman chose the Stylist’s collection, I’m guessing based upon the business look alone.

Well, I just couldn’t believe it. “Do you know what I could have done with $250?” I rhetorically asked my husband. Without hesitation, he responded “You could have created a whole collection.”

Actually, that’s about right. It would be safe to say that I usually do not spend more than $250 on clothes (not counting shoes) in most YEARS. Yes, that’s right – I love a good bargain. No, I LIVE for a good bargain, rarely paying full price for anything.

Here’s what I would have done for that motivational speaker. I would have put her in a work outfit very much like the one the Stylist put together – a blazer, structured blouse or top and dressy slacks or skirt. For the date, I would have found a one-piece figure flattering dress in a solid print, set off with some nice accessories. And I probably could have done it all at Dress Barn, in half a day, with money left over.

Does that make ME a Budget Fashionista? Can I be on the show?

All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

My husband and I are that nice middle aged couple who don’t go to Halloween parties anymore and give out pretzels to trick-or-treaters so that if there are any leftovers in the house, we can indulge without going off our diets. And we’re fine with that.


As a child, though, Halloween was always one of my favorite holidays, right next to Christmas. Trick-or-treat was a big deal, and there was none of these time-limited-periods-on-a-Sunday-afternoon that some communities try to get away with nowadays. In Swissvale, where I grew up, trick or treat always took place on October 31st, and there were no time limits. We would carry pillowcases as our treat bags and trick-or-treat until we couldn’t walk the hills anymore or until the pillowcases were full.

But the part of Halloween I liked the best was dressing up – in my case, as a Gypsy. I liked dressing up as a Gypsy so much that I chose that as my costume almost every year of my childhood. I wore a colorful one of my Grandma’s babushkas on my head and another around my waist. My mother lent me some of her costume jewelry - big hoop earrings and beaded necklaces - for the occasion, and let me put on her rouge and bright red lipstick. I would also draw a little beauty mark on my cheek. It sure was a nice break from those navy blue jumpers they made us wear every day at St. Anselm’s.

My favorite costume as a teenager was when I went to St. Anselm’s annual Halloween dance as Huckleberry Finn when I was a high school freshman. I found a straw hat and a corncob pipe, blackened my front tooth with a piece of black construction paper, tucked my hair up under the hat, and wore my favorite flannel shirt and denim cutoffs with pair of suspenders. This set me apart from my classmates in many ways. I don’t remember any of them dressing up as their favorite character from literature, and even my true friends who loved me just the way I was thought my obsession with Mark Twain and Huckleberry Finn was a little odd.

Without a doubt, though, my most inspired costume was the time I went to a Halloween party (when I was an adult) as a Freudian Slip. I wore a full white slip with the following velcroed on the front:

Sigmund Freud (1856—1939)

Father of Psychoanalysis

Manic Depressive

Insomniac

Once asked “What do women want?”

The answers:

1) A blackish square-ish, round-ish purse that is not too large but is large enough to carry all she needs that can easily go from work to a night out, and

2) A man whose ego has his id firmly under control but who has enough of a superego to be socially acceptable and gainfully employed.

Honestly, what women want is that simple.  I don’t know why Freud was so clueless on the topic.

Dancing through Life

Now that we are about halfway through this season, it is obvious that no one involved in the show itself has read my blog on “How to Win on Dancing with the Stars.”


In the third week, Kristen Cavalleri of The Hills went home. Everybody on the show was SHOCKED because she danced very well that week. After her very gracious speech about what a wonderful experience it all was, she admitted that she was disappointed, and added, “Clearly, it’s not REALLY a dance competition.”

I thought I explained all this. Of course it isn’t all about the dancing. There are several other factors that come into play, including having a compelling back story.

Kristen went home on “Most Memorable Year” (aka “Compelling Back Story”) Week. The contestants talked about their most memorable year and danced to a song of their own choosing to represent that year. Let me tell you, there was one incredibly compelling story after another.

There are really no words that adequately describe the inspiration in human form that is DWTS contestant J.R. Martinez, motivational speaker and former All My Children actor. J.R. was serving in the U.S. Army in Iraq when he drove his vehicle over a land mine. He suffered severe burns over 40% of his body, including his face and head, and lost an ear. He was 19. No number of scars can mask this man’s spirit. He radiates positive energy and his beautiful smile brightens up a room. He is one of the most attractive people I have ever seen, and is coincidentally, one of the best dancers this season.

J.R.’s most memorable year was the year he was injured. He talked about the incident, and his injury, and how his mother’s strength and courage helped him to get through what was obviously an extremely traumatic time for him, both emotionally and physically. She told him that people would like him for who he was and not what he looked like. He talked about all the soldiers who gave their lives in the war, and danced to a song that was dedicated to all of them. Well, there wasn’t a dry eye in OUR house, and the dance was beautiful.

Chaz Bono talked about his transformation, and danced to a song written by his father Sonny Bono about what is it to be a man. Ricki Lake’s marriage broke up and her house burned down, but she found new love in her now-husband. Well, we’ve all had those years, now haven’t we? Carson Kressley talked about how difficult it was growing up as different as he was from his schoolmates. Chynna Phillips danced to a song she wrote herself –Hold On, her big hit with Wilson Phillips- to help her get through a very bad time with her father. Nancy Grace talked about the premature birth of her twins, who are now healthy five-year-olds sitting in the audience with Dad each week.

Kristen’s most memorable year was when she graduated high school and had to decide whether to go to college or be on a TV show. Now, it’s not young Kristen’s fault that she had not seen real trouble in life yet, but if the producers don’t want to set it up for contestants with compelling back stories to beat contestants who dance well early in the season, then they should skip Most Memorable Year week.

By the way, J.R. Martinez is going to win this season. Remember you heard it here first.

Towanda Becomes Electra

We saw the Pittsburgh Public Theatre’s production of Electra the other night. It was pretty good. Like most plays written by Ancient Greeks, the players just talked a lot – about what had happened, what was happening now, and what they would like to see happen in the future. I can sum up the plot for you in three words. Electra was ANGRY.

From the moment she crawled onto the stage until the play ended about an hour later, she growled, she wept, she wailed, she gnashed her teeth. She had her reasons to be angry. Her mother and her mother’s lover murdered her father and were now ruling the kingdom together. Her sister told her that there was nothing to do but accept it but Electra was bent on revenge, which, for some reason could only be exacted by her brother Orestes, who was out of town. You know- typical family stuff.

I got confused when Orestes showed up and Electra didn’t recognize him, but I found out later that they hadn’t seen each other in 20 years. Wait. How could Electra possibly have sustained such intense anger and fury for 20 YEARS? I’m surprised that she didn’t spontaneously combust.

Maybe Electra could take a lesson from Towanda on taking immediate action on your anger.

In case you are unaware, Towanda is the aggressive alter ego that meek, mild and middle-aged Evelyn Couch, a character in the novel Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, creates for herself. In one scene, Evelyn is waiting for a parking spot only to have two younger woman take the spot from her, saying “Face it, lady, we’re younger and faster.” Evelyn mutters “Towanda” and then rams her car into the back of their car several times. She then tells them, “Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.”

I had a Towanda moment myself recently. One day last week I was driving in a parking lot, minding my own business, when a car started pulling out of a parking space in front of me. I simultaneously hit the brakes and laid on my horn, but the driver didn’t hear or see me, and proceeded to back into my car.

I was annoyed but not really angry. Accidents happen and she was going slowly. The “damage” was more of a scratch than a dent, and certainly not worth worrying about. She was clueless, so I nicely explained what happened, and told her I was willing to forget about the scratch on the car. I was headed back to my car, not even waiting for her to say “thank you,” but the lady who just backed into me wanted to talk more about it.

“Well, I guess that’s okay, because we don’t really know what happened,” she said

I reminded her that we DID know what happened – she backed into me.

“But we don’t know whose fault it was,” she said.

I could actually feel my blood pressure starting to rise. I explained that SHE hit ME – it was her fault.

This chick wasn’t done. “Actually, I didn’t see you and you saw me, so it was your fault.”

Okay, I was now Towanda. “BECAUSE I saw you I stopped the car. My car was NOT MOVING when you hit me, ” I was shouting now.

“No, it was definitely your fault,” this witch said, haughtily, “You should thank me. I am just going to forget it, even though my car is brand new, not like yours. You’re lucky.”

Suddenly, the intensity of my fury matched Electra’s.

THANK her????? I wanted to bitch slap her. Would that have been wrong? Actually SHE was the lucky one. I didn’t take her insurance information, or drive into the back of her car several times (although the thought did cross my mind). And, because I neither own nor carry a gun, I did not shoot her on the spot. That WOULD have been wrong, of course, and this, my friends, is why I am a firm believer in gun control. That kind of homicidal overreaction is what got Electra’s family into such a pickle to begin with.

Instead, I went to Dress Barn. I found a beautiful lightweight sweater that I loved. I needed to get a smaller size because of my recent weight loss, AND it was 60% off. I bought two in different colors. I could feel myself calming and my blood pressure returning to normal. Yes, there’s nothing like a little retail therapy to soothe the raging beast. Maybe Towanda and Electra should have tried it.