Casa de Jefe.

The Jefe’s mother recently moved out of the house in which he grew up.  As rarely happens with families, one of the things he wanted most was one that no one else had any desire for – in fact his mom couldn’t stand it.  He took the fixture down, cleaned it, rewired it all the way through, and stored it in a box along with an afghan made by his mom.  When we moved into this house he pretty much let me set things up the way I wanted, but one request was that we be able to hang the chandelier over the dining room table.  It was a request I was only too happy to grant.  In person, the subtle colors over the metal are really warm and the whole thing has a great patina thanks to the gentleness of his cleaning.  It suits the room so well, and I love having his family here, too.

Pssst…pass it on.

My mother will be 90 years old in May and has just moved into her first apartment.  Ever.  Leaving the house that she was in for nearly 50 years hasn’t been easy, but she’s a funny, strong, courageous lady and she makes the best of a situation.  So here I sit, surrounded more and more by the pieces of my family and the home of my youth.  I can’t help but be warmed by the trivial and important memories of finding things in the drawers of the dresser below – which we’ve re-purposed into a sideboard of sorts. 

Mom and Dad’s jewelry boxes were each in top drawers.  The far right-hand drawer held an assortment of scissors, fabric tape measures, cough drop tins, purse-sized Kleenex packs, mini greeting cards, safety pins, double-stick tape, tiny jewelers pliers, any number of small tubes of hand lotion and several plastic rain hats which tied under my mother’s chin.   

Dad’s drawers to the left held old eyeglasses, cufflinks, U.S. Postal Service awards, goofy business cards from men he met during the years he sold farm equipment, love notes we’d written him as children, his collection of pig lapel pins, photos of his brothers.  After he died in ’84, Mom found a ‘black book’ of his and – with a sick heart – told my brother-in-law to take it away before she even looked at it.  It turned out to be his Masonic ritual – my father’s integrity was restored.  

Cat Scratch Fever

So I think Frank might need her nails clipped right about now.  What convinced me, you ask?  Well, aside from the highly amusing sound of her skidding around on the wood floors and banging into door frames as she races Basom through the house, perhaps it was the fact that I woke up bloody this morning.  With real blood.  MINE!  She jumped down from the windowsill above the bed and my face was unfortunately in her path of destruction.  She nearly put my eye out people, and no, I’m not faking it just to freak you out on Halloween. 

 Just look at the carnage!

Wait, let me get closer:

See?!?  Vicious little beast.