Grandmother's Are Dreamy

My grandmother's house in Corvallis, looking not much like
it did when she was alive.  Gone are the perfectly cone-
shaped trees on either side of the walk.  Also, none of the
flowers that she tended herself, all around the foundation,
and the old hydrangeas and irises under the windows.

Recently, reading a post on Susan Branch's blog, I was reminded of some of the fun times I had with my grandmother.  She wasn't what one would call a "cozy" grandma.  Yes, she knitted and crocheted up a storm, but the best you could hope for when it came to any handmade gift was the ugliest pair of crocheted slippers you could ever behold.  I know this might seem cruel - picking on the crafting tastes of the dear-departed, but I sometimes wonder if she knew this fact and was just waiting for someone to call her bluff.  It wasn't that she couldn't make beautiful things.  I can't begin to understand how she could translate complex patterns into doilies of every shape and size.  One of my favorites was bright yellow and green one that, when starched, looked just like a ring of daffodils.  And those pineapple shapes that always seem to be picked into these lace-like table linens?  Unbelievable.

My grandmother was much more than doilies, however.  She was, to me, simply fun.  She had a sometimes raucous sense of humor, laughing at surprising and slightly (and sometimes not so slightly) off-color jokes, and she taught me all sorts of important things.  For example, poker.  I was the only grandchild to spend the night with her in her later years and we'd stay up very late playing cards.  When my aunt or mother were around we'd play Canasta and Aggravation (on the board that my late grandfather had made many years before), but in the evening, it was penny poker.  We'd also watch Saturday Night Live together, sort of.  She'd be in her room and I'd be on the couch and we'd laugh at all the same parts - especially Dana Carvey's Church Lady character.

Her house was an absolute mess.  My mother tells me that for most of her childhood my grandmother was a strict housekeeper.  "A place for everything and everything in it's place."  My grandma once told me how she thought she annoyed her guests by following them around picking up after them (so, that's where I got it!).  By the time I was in the picture, her house was filled to overflowing with "stuff".  Paperwork, yarn, catalogs, piles of finished doilies (kept, rarely given away) bric-a-brac of many generations, magazines and books of crossword puzzles.  In fact, if you could manage to get a break from games, she had so much fun "stuff" that you could spend endless rainy Saturday's just looking.  One of the best things were the tabloids, of which my own mother didn't really approve...  there were often stacks of old  National Enquirer and Star and People magazines to read.  We never had those at home!  But the ultimate fun was heading upstairs with my aunt.  In the unoccupied rooms one could find trunks of family heirlooms to look through.  Boxes and boxes of letters and old pictures and vintage books and magazines.  It was an absolute treasure trove.  My aunt, truly one of the funniest people I know, and I would read the letters aloud, sometimes in crazy accents, sometimes "embellishing" them as we went along.  You could hear our laughter all the way downstairs.  When she was ready for us to come back to the dining room table to resume the games, she'd yell up the stairs, "What are you doing up there?  I didn't say you could go up there!"  She didn't really mind, she just wanted the fun to be where she was.

One of my favorite memories is actually from when I was much younger.  My grandma always had a "hangout".  A particular restaurant that she'd visit every day at the same time.  For ages it was Sammie's.  Sammie's never seemed to have any other customers, although I am sure they did.  You could find my grandmother there every afternoon, maybe with her friend Liz, but often just chatting to the waitress and cook.  She'd sit in the same booth by the window, long brown cigarette drooping from her mouth, drinking coffee out of thick, brown mugs.  I was always fascinated by the cigarette smoke as it spiraled up, up, up into the air, toward the high wooden ceiling of Sammie's A-frame dining room.  I'd sit and watch it curl upward while my mother and aunt and grandma talked.  Sometimes she'd by me an orange juice or, if I was really fortunate, a hot chocolate with whipped cream.  Even better were the butterhorns that I might convince her to buy.  Funnily, in all those years, I can't remember her ever eating anything herself.  Just talking and smoking and drinking coffee.  Years later, after she'd died, one of the waitresses told tell me how my grandma would love to help out, bussing the tables and getting people water or other little things if it was busy.

As I grew older, I think I developed a sort of special relationship with my grandmother.  She could be tricky, though.  I remember once, after she'd made some really good chocolate cookies (this had NEVER happened before in my lifetime), I told her that I'd love to have some for a birthday present.  Her response?  "Well, I wouldn't hold your breath!"  And, she was serious, sort of.  No, she didn't end up surprising me with any that year, or any other year, but I honestly didn't expect her to.  I didn't take it personally, it was just my grandmother being herself.  She'd had a very hard life, it was a wonder that she'd survived it as well as she had, and I loved her for it.

I don't think my grandma ever spent more than $5 on me.  Christmas, birthdays...  a $5 bill in a card.  And I was glad to get it.  There might have been a couple of exceptions - a subscription to Jack and Jill magazine and the most wonderful wooden store, filled with tiny wooden merchandise - canned foods, apples, cheese wedges, bags of flour and sugar, barrels of who-knows-what...  all in unfinished wood.  You really had to use your imagination with this toy, and I played with it for hours.

There is a point to this walk down memory lane...  In Susan Branch's story, she told of her mother's summer visits to her own grandmother - Susan's great-grandmother.  The fun was simple and homespun, and the lessons learned there were about such things as how to dream and how to make your dreams come true.  My own mother's stories of her summers on her grandmother's wheat farm in Washington are similar.  They include tales of helping her grandmother and aunts to cook for the farmhands at harvest time and, always, endless games of Canasta.  I love those stories, even now after I've heard them many times.  My own children will have similar recollections of my mom.  Like generations before, they all sit at her table, playing cards and drinking Pepsi and laughing, sometimes until the tears flow.

For some reason it seems that we now expect grandmothers to be cash cows...  buying clothes, cars and computers, taking trips and affording their grandchildren the luxuries their parents can't afford.  And, I suppose this generation of grandmother's is quite different than the one I enjoyed.  They're not white-haired ladies who play cards and gab with their friends, they're more likely to be career women with entirely different abilities and interests to share with their grandchildren.  Of course, there's not a thing wrong with that, the cooperation of the generations in rearing the adults of the future is a wonderful blessing.  But, afternoons of cards and Pepsi were awfully fun.

The key to this, if one is necessary, is that grandmothers can provide their grandchildren with so many wonderful memories, and the best ones are entirely free (OK, $5, tops).  They occupy a unique place - they knew one's parents when they were young, and just as silly, and they can take some of the pomposity out of them.  There's nothing better than to hear, "Well, when your mother was 12..." followed by some tale of woe and wrong-doing.  They can provide comfort and sympathy, all the time telling you that, in the end, you'd better mind you parents.

For all her idiosyncrasies, I adored my grandmother.  She was terrifically fun, and she was a pal.  I dream about her all the time to this day, and she's been gone for almost fifteen years.  I hope that when our children have kids of their own, I'll have the chance to follow a little of my own grandmothers example.

Russia... A Country of Endless Fascination

A 1906 painting by Russia artist
Boris Kustodiev, now in the State
Russian Museum of St. Petersburg.

I'm no expert on Russian history, but I've always had an affinity for my own idea of the former Soviet Union.  Interestingly, I've noticed a huge uptick in visits to the blog from Russia.  Why?  I have no idea, but I am delighted by it.  Apparently, I have a lot of new Russian friends who are interested in the Dapper and Dreamy life!

Unfortunately, most of my images of Mother Russia are likely stereotypes, not to mention horribly out of date.  I am always open to being educated, so feel free to correct my many misconceptions.  To me, there are two overriding images that come to mind.  The first is, of course, snow...  lots and lots of snow.  The second is of lilacs.  I must have read about Russia and lilacs somewhere and the image stuck.

Most of what I've learned about Russia and the Russians has come from my interest in the Houses of Windsor and Romanov.  If you look at the family tree of Queen Victoria, you will see that there are many, many marriages that brought Romanovs into the English Royal Family, as well as several marriages that sent the British to Russia.  Queen Victoria's granddaughters were an effective tool when it came to making stronger diplomatic connections between these superpowers of the late 19th century.  Of course, the Romanovs are no more representative of the average Russian than the Queen is of your workaday Englishman.  But, the sites and sounds of St. Petersburg and Moscow are often well-represented in books on these royal subjects.

John Steinbeck also gave me a look at Russia, or more correctly the Soviet Union, after the second world war.  In some ways, it's not a pretty picture, at least not when the government or the cities are involved.  But the moment he stepped away from the metropolises and into the countryside, an entirely different world appeared.  While universally welcoming, it was in the country that he was treated to the long dinners filled with endless toasts and a seemingly steady stream of food presented proudly by his hosts.  That's one of the images of Russia and the Russians that's always stayed with me...  Welcoming, friendly, kind, fun-loving and maybe even a little bit sentimental.

My uncle has had a long-held interest in Russia and her language.  I remember well that, in the summer, my aunt would talk about how her home was like a little Russia dacha.  That image, too, has stayed with me.  When I imagine their house, filled with books, casual and generous entertainment of family, and friends who were welcomed as family, and even my uncle's foray into playing his balalaika, I imagine a very Russian scene.  Add reading Anna Karenina in their back garden one hot summer many years ago, and the music of Rachmaninoff, and you have a sort of total immersion in my idea of Russia.

Finally, there are a few books, again terribly out of date, that have given me a feeling for Russia, or at least my idea of it.  I've already mentioned Steinbeck's Russian Journal, but there was also a book about the Soviet Union published by National Geographic in the 1980's.  And yet another of those Time-Life Cookbooks - The Food of Russia - that took me into the cozy and welcoming homes of real Russians, of course they were circa 1970.

The cover of Time-Life's The Cooking of Russia
cookbook...  look at those amazing Easter eggs!

I'd love to know more about Russia and her people.  I'd be fascinated to learn what's Dapper and Dreamy in that endlessly fascinating and enormous country.  If you happen to be one of my newly acquired Russian readers, drop me a line and tell me about yourself.

Although I've probably exposed my total ignorance of a real place and a real people, I've meant it in the best possible way.  For me, countries are more about the people than their governments.  It's through their friendship and food, their arts and culture and their music and faith that we can learn the most.

One of the astonishingly beautiful palaces in St. Petersburg.

New Product From Dapper and Dreamy!

In all their glory...  the Dapper and Dreamy kids!
Victoria (holding baby Max), Jack, Thomas, Nick, Teddy, Harry and George.

Are you looking for a fun gift for mom and dad's anniversary?  Perhaps your children are getting ready to leave the nest and you want a unique family portrait.  Whatever the reason or occasion, our custom-created family and home portraits are an ideal way to commemorate your family and your home.

It's simple...  You email a photo (or photos) of your family or your home to us, and we'll create a special illustration just for you.  Feel free to include any special requests when it comes to colors, seasons or just about anything else that's special about your family.

Because this is an original piece of art, we can promise that no two will be alike!  Finished images will be roughly 8 1/2 x 11, but special requests will be considered.  Each image will cost $49.95, plus shipping.

Introducing the New Dapper and Dreamy Couple

That Shamrock-laden Dapper and Dreamy Couple was looking a little tired, don't you think?  Time for a new, up-to-date couple!  As you'll see, Dapper looks the same as ever...  large round head and Fred Astaire  influence sartorial spirit.  But Dreamy's had quite a makeover!  A few pounds have obviously been shed, and her style has turned decidedly chic.  Does this mean that the days of Dreamy and her holiday-inspired ensembles are over?  Of course not!  But, as you can see, this happy couple is getting ready for London's Diamond Jubilee celebrations...  See Buckingham Palace in the background?  Dreamy insisted that she needed to channel the Duchess of Cambridge for this event, not Mrs. Claus.

While the "real" Dapper and Dreamy couple will be watching the Jubilee events via the wonders of CNN and BBC America, at least we can imagine the illustrated version dashing from garden party to pre-concert picnics on the Palace lawns!

New Items in the Dapper and Dreamy Shoppe

Hello Dapper and Dreamy friends!

I wanted to let you know that there are new items in the Dapper and Dreamy Shoppe over at Etsy.  To connect, just click on this link.  We've added three prints and a set of new botanical notecards as well as one of Jubilee fabrics in honour of Queen Elizabeth II's Diamond Jubilee.

Run over and take a look.  We'd love to know what you think!

Pie, First Ladies and the Wonderful World of Blogging

I love pie.  Unfortunately, in my bursting at the seams house, I am one of only two people who have this predeliction.  Don't ask me why, but the other eight Gariepys have something seriously wrong with them.

There's a lot to love about pie.  First, there's the crust.  Whether you opt for the good, old American Crisco version, a sweeter, butterier (is "butterier" a word) and much more continental Pate Sucree, or an easy and delicious graham cracker crumb, you've got a winner.  In fact, for me, the crust is probably the best part of the pie.  I love the filling too, but I've been known to eat that first just so that I can enjoy the crust all by itself.  To be completely honest, it doesn't even have to be cooked to get my attention...  I am a sucker for pie dough.  My mother had to caution me against eating too much, although it never worked.  I seem to vaguely remember some bogus warning using the example of an episode of my favorite television show at the time, Emergency, in which a kid was sent to the hospital because he ate too much pie dough.  Really, as if I'd believe that Paramedic John Gage would waste his time on a youthful pie dough glutton...  But, I digress...

Countless pie crust recipes exist, all with their own special tips and tricks.  For me, as I've mentioned above, nothing beats the basic Crisco recipe.  It's simple and, if you don't put too much thought into it, easy.  I think that salt is really the key.  I can't stand a pie crust without it.  In fact, I think almost everything benefits from a bit of salt...  I never use unsalted butter when baking, and firmly believe that a little dash in frostings brings out the butteriness (another new butter related word).  Again, I digress...

Pie fillings are endless.  There is the endless bounty of fruity fillings...  blackberry, cherry, peach, rhubarb, blueberry, marionberry, strawberry, apple and, most delicious of all, raspberry.  There are countless combinations, too...  cherry-raspberry, raspberry-peach, apple-blackberry, apple-cranberry, cherry-blueberry...   could fill the rest of this post with ideas.  I won't go into the cream pies, meringue pies and the custards.  Nor will I mention specifically all of the savory pies one can whip up.  If you put it into a pie crust, I will probably eat it.

It's not just the eating that makes pie so wonderful.  There's the making, the cooling, the holiday and family associations that it brings to mind and, always important to me, the nostalgia.  Pie reminds me of life on the American farm...  The white, blue and red kitchen (as seen in the 1945 version of State Fair) is humming with activity, a slight breeze is blowing the blue and white gingham curtains at the windows, and there are pies of every kind baking in the oven or cooling on the windowsill or.  Mother, wearing a cheerful apron, and played by either Spring Byington or Fay Bainter (there's State Fair again) is effortlessly rolling out pie crusts  These flaky-crusted treats are bound for the farm-hands lunch, or perhaps the annual Church bake sale.  Or, perhaps it's Thanksgiving evening and you've just about recovered from the huge midday meal when, suddenly, the table is once again groaning, this time with pumpkin, apple and pecan pies.  Maybe there's even a mince pie with hot butter rum sauce if you're lucky...  You see, what could be cozier than pie?

Fay Bainter...  The perfect farm wife and mother,
and mincemeat maker
in State Fair.

Spring Byington, Doris Day's mother in
Please Don't Eat the Daisies, and
star of TV's December Bride.

I have a few favorite pie makers...  My mother makes the best blackberry pies, as well as Raspberry Chiffon and Chocolate Cream Cheese.  My mother-in-law makes delicious apple pies (I don't usually care for apple, but hers are a definite exception), as well a fresh strawberry.  There's a lady at church who makes heavenly coconut cream pies, and there was once a restaurant in Corvallis, Oregon, that made marvelous Apple Crunch and Lemon Angel pies.  I'm no amateur myself...  I'd never turn down a piece or three of my Peanut Butter Cream Cheese pie, and I make a mean Lemon Cream (funnily enough, from the same recipe I found decades ago in my circa-late 1970's Better Homes and Gardens Junior Cookbook).

Some excellent meals came out of this
cookbook, my friends...  "Fish In Foil", "Peachy
Beef Stew" (OK, that wasn't so good) and
Creamy Lemon Pie!

Cookbooks devoted to pie are also rather fun, and I've never found one better than Killer Pies by Stephanie Anderson.  Highlighting cafes and diners known for their pie in each region of the United States and Canada, Anderson's book is filled with exciting pie ideas.  There are the obvious apples and berries, but then she lists things like S'mores Pie, Manitoba Maple-Walnut Pie, Sour Cream Raisin and Wet-Bottom Shoofly Pies.  This is one of the few cookbooks that I take down from the shelf, time and time again, just to read and dream of what pie I might make next.  I would have loved to have helped with the research on this cookbook.

So, what does this have to do with First Ladies and Blogging?  Well, I'll tell you...

One of my favorite authors, and a generous and supportive one at that, has proven to be even more talented than I'd previously thought.  Not only is he the world's preeminent expert on First Ladies (he wrote the landmark, two-volume First Ladies, a must, must read for anyone with even the slightest interest in the subject), but he's also an avowed pie lover.  Carl Anthony also happens to have a blog that is both fun and enlightening.  First Ladies, dogs, American pop culture, dogs and, of course, pie are just some of the subjects that pop up on his site.  Two of my recent favorites took readers on an intimate, and well-illustrated, tour of the Kennedy Compound in Hyannisport and the former home of Gerald and Betty Ford in Palm Desert.  So, in the interest of promoting First Ladies, fellow blogger and...  pie...  I highly recommend a visit to Carl's blog, Carl Anthony Online.

I don't know about you, but all this talk of pie has made me hungry...  I'm off to see where I can find a good piece of pie!

Someone loved the pies at Don's Cafe in

Reedsport, Oregon, so much, they made this

video in it's honor...  I can understand,

they make amazing pies, including Butterscotch Pecan...

Yum!

Dapper and Dreamy Retro Recipe of the Week... Pineapple Snow

Most families have special foods for special occasions.  I know that holidays are bound to bring out certain dishes in the homes of most of my relatives.  Toffee and fudge, roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding at Christmas; rigatoni (called "rigaboni") for Halloween;  Orange Dreamsicle Salad anytime I can possibly find an excuse; and Salsa Quizza for the Fourth of July.  Easter isn't forgotten, although I'm a few days late for it, and in my family, the holiday is often greeted by a large, cut glass bowl filled with Pineapple Snow.

It's no surprise that family recipes can be an acquired taste.  One man's delicacy is another's nightmare.  My father is known to love eggs pickled in beet juice.  Although I've never tried this Easter "treat", I am getting more and more interested in the idea.  Regardless of their taste, the bright, white eggs soaking in the dark purple liquid are very pretty to look at.

Pineapple Snow is not, fortunately, much of an acquired taste.  Some people may shy away from foods containing gelatin, an item that seems to have lost popularity over the years, and I generally agree.  But, perhaps because of nostalgia or just because I think it tastes so good, Pineapple Snow is a firm favorite.

For years I wondered where the recipe came from.  My grandmother was famous for it, making it on every holiday, including Easter.  Although she died over thirty years ago, it's one of my clearest associations with her.  After my other grandmother passed away, I inherited her ca. 1940's Joy of Cooking.  In it, I found...  Pineapple Snow!  The original recipe is clearer than the one that's been passed along to me, and I have included it here for you to enjoy.  Please note that it is taken directly from Mrs. Rombauer herself...

Pineapple Snow

Soak:

1 tablespoon gelatine

in:

1/4 cup cold water

Heat:

2 cups crushed pineapple, undrained

Stir in:

1 cup sugar

1/8 teaspoon salt

When these ingredients are boiling add the soaked gelatine.  Remove the pan from the fire and stir in the gelatine until it is dissolved.  Chill the jelly until it is about to set.  (Here's my little hint...  I put the hot pineapple mixture into a large, lightly oiled glass baking pan.  Once it's almost set, I break the mixture into small bits with a fork...)  Whip until stiff:

2 cups heavy cream

Fold in the pineapple.  Place the pudding in a wet mold (me again...  or a cut glass bowl).  Chill it thoroughly.  Unmold it and serve it with:

Maraschino cherries

(optional)

Book of the Week... Wait for Me!

"The Dowager Duchess of Devonshire"...  The name makes one think of a rather starchy character, somewhat like the Dowager Countess of Grantham in PBS' Downton Abbey.  The reality is quite different. Reading Wait for Me!, the Dowager Duchess is anything but starchy.  Rather, she's a funny, charming and decidedly down-to-earth character who knows what it is to be a true aristocrat.

Wait for Me! is the latest in a long list of books published by Deborah Devonshire, and part of an even larger canon of works by the famed Mitford sisters, of which she is the youngest and only remaining.  At 90, "Debo", as she is called by those closest to her, is uniquely able to look back on a life lived in circumstances that simply don't exist any more.

Growing up in sometimes grand and, at other times, reduced (for an aristo) circumstances gave Debo the sort of realistic outlook that many of her contemporaries lacked.  Able to attend the grandest debutante balls, she was equally comfortable spending time with farmworkers and stable keepers.  In fact, it is said by those that know her that she treats everyone, whether king, president or charwoman, in exactly the same way.  She has spoken of the staff at her former home, and seat of the Devonshire dukes, Chatsworth as being the best of the best in every way.

The seat of the Dukes of Devonshire, and star of many
films including Pride and Prejudice...  Chatsworth house
in Derbyshire.

Far beyond her approach to life, the Dowager Duchess has led a most interesting life.  Youngest daughter of David and Sydney Mitford, Debo was the younger sister of Nancy, Pamela, Diana, Unity and Jessica Mitford.  Nancy became an accomplished novelist whose works drew heavily on the Mitfords for inspiration.  Some of her best known characters are highly exaggerated caricatures of her parents.  Pamela, the most retiring of the sisters, lived life as a true English countrywoman, surrounded by dogs and horses.  Diana, the beauty of the family, was famous for her marriage to Oswald Moseley, a man who shared her political views, both being Fascists in pre-war England.  Imprisoned for part of the war, Diana went on to live a full life in France, turning to writing history later in life.  Unity was, perhaps, the most extreme of the sisters having developed a close personal friendship with none other than Adolph Hitler.  So depressed by the declaration of war in 1939, Unity attempted suicide in Germany, eventually returning home to England to live out her remaining years, a much changed person.  And, finally, Jessica who moved to America and became a Communist.  Most famous for her book The American Way of Death, which blew the lid of the multimillion dollar funeral industry in the early 1960's, she was the polar opposite of her two Fascist sisters, Diana and Unity.  Not many families can claim to dance at debutante balls with the royal family while harboring pro-Hitler and pro-Stalin views.

The Mitford Sisters

Debo is as different from her sisters as can be.  Admittedly little interested in politics, the Duchess spent much of her adult life turning Chatsworth into a profitable, and very livable, stately home.  This was done in a time when many of the landed nobility were having to abandon, tear down or drastically reduce some of the greatest estates in Britain.  With death duties at 80%, even Chatsworth didn't escape with many of the houses greatest pieces of art handed over to the British government in place of cash.  Despite all of that, Chatsworth has turned into one of England's most popular attractions with the house and gardens visited by countless tourists and locals every year.  Additionally, Debo started the Chatsworth Farm store which sells produce, meat, cheese and countless other products made of the spoils of the estates farms, forests, crops and herds.  An entrepreneur, CEO and author, Deborah Devonshire is unique among her peers, and her family.

The people who populate the pages of Wait for Me! are as fascinating as the author.  Through her husband's brother, she was sister-in-law to John F. Kennedy's sister, "Kick", and was related to both Winston and Clementine Churchill through some of the rather interesting, and unconventional, relationships of her family members.  Accustomed to receiving international dignitaries and royals to Chatsworth, Debo played host to the Shah of Persia, British Prime Ministers and members of the royal family as well as the Kennedys and countless other luminaries of the day.  She is also, perhaps, one of the only people, certainly the only one living, to have taken tea with Churchill, the King and Queen and Hitler.  It should be said that the Duchess never shared any views with the Fuhrer, rather, she was introduced to the dictator by her sister as Debo and her mother travelled through Austria and Germany in the pre-war 1930's.  What do we learn about the leader of Nazi Germany?  He was rather dull, lived in the manner of any middle class German and wasn't able to converse with his visitors in English.

The two appendices are particularly interesting, describing in detail the Duchess' experiences at the inauguration, and funeral, of President Kennedy.  In fact, at several points in the later chapters we are given a unique insight into the fun and humor of the Kennedy family.  Funnily, after dancing with a young JFK in pre-war London, Debo writes in her diary that, in fact, he was really rather dull.  It seems that, later, she changed her views considerably.

And, finally, in a rather funny twist, you find this very English duchess regaling her readers with her experiences visiting Graceland.  That's right...  THE Graceland, home of the King himself.  It seems that, quite by accident, Debo became a devoted fan of Elvis Presley and found it very surprising that her very wealthy American friends hadn't seen fit to visit the star's Memphis mansion.

Debo today....

Debo Devonshire is a wonderful writer and it will be hard to put this book down once you start it.  From idyllic childhood to life as a very active nonagenarian, Wait for Me! is certainly a book I'll be coming back to in the future.

NOTE:  As a follow-up to Wait for Me!, I've started reading The Sisters:  The Saga of the Mitfords, a book written with the help of Debo and her (at the time) remaining sisters.  One thing to note about all of the Mitfords, with the notable exception of Nancy, is their complete and utter disinterest in coloring their history.  No more honest memoirists will you find, even when it might be painful or uncomfortable.

Happy Birthday, Doris Day!

It's Doris Day Day!

Today, Doris celebrates her 88th birthday, and she's sure been busy this year.  She's released an album of all-new, never-before-heard songs recorded in some 30 years ago with her late son as the producer.  There's also a new 2 CD set out with pieces selected by Doris herself (31 songs in all) and a new four film DVD set from TCM.  I understand that Doris Day films, 28 of them, are also filling the TCM evening schedule throughout the week.

It's no secret that Dapper and Dreamy thinks Doris is the bees knees.  There's not a star that's been brighter (she's still the biggest box office draw ever to hit Hollywood) or a person that's tried to do more good with their life than Ms. Day.  Her films continue to be fabulous all-ages entertainment.  Her music still attracts legions of new fans.  And, how many thousands (millions?) of neglected animals have her or her foundation to thank for a new lease on life?  Bringing joy to millions of people, and animals, is a wonderful legacy, if you ask me.  And, to still be so involved and aware at 88?  Yes, please!

Despite what we see on the covers of tabloids (Doris Day's Sad Last Days, Doris Day Loses Memory, Doris Day Can't Bear to Look Back), you sure could fool the real Doris.  Judging by the interviews she's recently given, her "last" days seem to be pretty full, and joyful ones.  Far from living like a reclusive pauper, Day remains in her recently updated Carmel Valley home, surrounded by her beloved animals and countless friends who pay her regular visits.  Still active and lively, the Carmel Safeway remains a favorite haunt.

There's something special about Doris Day that makes us love and admire her.  Sure, she's a star, but she's also as friendly, down-to-earth and humble a person you'll find.  Far from shunning her past, in a recent interview she shared her love for her career, for the people she worked with and for the experiences she's had.  And, no memory?  Her recall of the many adventures she's had, and the challenges she's faced, is probably better than mine.  And I'm fifty years younger!

So, as you flip through the channels tonight, or try to find a movie to watch or a song to listen too, why not choose one of Doris Day's wonderful works.  That's what we're doing here, at the Dapper and Dreamy house!

Happy 88th Birthday, Doris Day!

The Dapper and Dreamy, Doris Day Movie Marathon

Romance on the High Seas 

(Doris' first film made with her pal, and one of our favorite character actors, Jack Carson.)

By the Light of the Silvery Moon

(With Gordon MacRae and a fabulous family)

On Moonlight Bay

(Bill and Marjorie again!)

The Man Who Knew Too Much

(Jimmy and Doris entangled in international espionage!)

Young at Heart

(With Frank Sinatra and a great house...)

Midnight Lace

(Who would want to kill Doris Day?!?!  Well, maybe her husband, Rex Harrison...

Also, a great part for Myrna Loy as Aunt Bea)

Lover Come Back

(Rock and Doris...  Do I have to say anymore?)

Pillow Talk

(Ditto)

Send Me No Flowers

(Ditto again, but a reminder to pay attention to Tony Randall...  He's hilarious in all three of these

films, but this one, especially.)

The Thrill of It All

(With James Garner...  Really about as believable a screen couple as there ever was.)

That Touch of Mink

(With Cary Grant...  Two of our very, very favorites together...  a true cinematic gem!)

For the Love of Technology

Not my cartoon...  thanks to Google Plus for this image...
But, it is rather familiar behaviour...

I have spent some time going on about the downside of technology...  People stumbling through life, heads down, texting their every, dull move to one another or their Facebook account.  Believe me, none of us are interesting enough to have THAT much to share.  Who wants to read FB status' like...  "So bored."  Or, "So sick..."  I also have a hard time seeing the use of posts like, "Last week was the worst ever...  Can't believe I lived through it."  The problem with the last one is that, in the last week, the person didn't post anything other than, "So bored...", or "Wow..."  If you had the worst week ever, it must have been at least a LITTLE bit more interesting than that.  Details people!  Or perhaps, just saying nothing would be better.

We've descended to thinking that every moment must be filled with some noise, some information.  When we have nothing to say, we are afraid that that nothingness will lead to our being forgotten, being out of the loop, being...  de-friended.  I suppose there is some truth to this concern.  If you aren't constantly posting something somewhere, you may not be noticed by the millions, friends and family included, who only communicate via email or social networking sites.  Now, before I sound too "holier-than-thou", I have an admission to make.  I'm no better than anyone else!  It's true!  I am as much of a slave to the wonders of technology as you are.

I've known this for some time, but was recently reminded of it.  When I left my sales job, almost a year ago, I left behind a Blackberry that was connected every moment of every day.  That this was always by my side.  I could email at any moment of the day or night, and did, and could receive emails at any time of day or night, and did.  This dreadful little machine sat by my bed each night, charging, providing my early morning alarm, and making itself available at any time for Google searches and useless communications.  I couldn't watch a movie without accessing every bit of information about it on IMDB.  I couldn't answer a question on many topics without searching to make sure I had all of the information.  I had to read the news at least every hour.  If I awoke at 2 am and the little red light indicating a new message was flashing, I was up and awake to see what I needed to respond to.  It was truly awful.  It was also one of the things that caused me to realize that I was on the entirely wrong track.  For months after I left this job, I was free.  I had no Blackberry.  In fact, I barely had a cell phone (I still don't!).  It was glorious.  I thought I'd kicked the habit.  And then...  I was made aware of the truth of my tech-addicted life.

My laptop.  It died.  Not a pretty death, but a slow, agonizing death.  It started with odd error messages.  Incredibly slow performance.  Strange noises and excessive heat.  Fortunately, I recognized the symptoms of "something" in time to save some of my more important documents and pictures.  But, there I was, watching my online life slowly fade away.

What would I do without my laptop?  How would I work?  How would I communicate?  How would I research?  What about my blog?  Everyone would forget about it and no one would ever look at it again!  How would I get my designs and products (coming soon) out there?  How could I connect with people who might actually want to hire me for something (anything...  things are tight)?  There was no hope.  Without a laptop, I was nothing.  Zip.  Nada.  Money to replace the laptop?  Hahaha!  Dreamy's birthday is just over a week away.  This is not the kind of person you give technology to, and certainly not in a veiled attempt to get something you, the giver, really need.  And then, Easter!  What Easter Bunny gives his kids a Macbook that he really intends to use himself?

Sure, I could still parent.  I could be a husband.  I could teach my Sunday School class.  I could still cook and create and talk to people.  I could write letters.  The phone still worked.  But, no email?  No blogger?  No Etsy?  What was my life worth without those?  I would, quite simply, disappear.

Of course, these dreadfully serious concerns lasted for about a day.  I was able to make a highly advantageous deal with one of my sons, possessor of a much better laptop than my own, and here I am.  Back in business.  I am shocked, and a little saddened, by how dependent on this keyboard and screen I really am.  How can I change that?  Can I change that?

Personal contact is dapper and dreamy.  Extra effort is dapper and dreamy.  And recognizing what, of the things you do, is important is dapper and dreamy.  Somehow, I was still able to work yesterday.  I spent a little more time reading and learning.  I went on an afternoon bike ride with my little seven year old in the unusually warm spring afternoon.  I lifted weights.  I designed some cards.  I did some crossword puzzles.  I enjoyed my day more than most.