A Tiny Tenant of That Old House

Spring.
I love how life just pops all around us.


Flowers, shrubs, trees, even the littlest of the little critters spring to life in Spring!

One of the elusive tenants of the swinging singles apartment complex that we
think of as our stone wall was captured -- with a camera -- through our sunroom window.

Can you see the little fella? Here, a closer look:

Isn't he darling?

These little scamps live in and behind the stacked stone walls that criss-cross our yard, and they scamper
all over our borders, much to my amusement and dog Dion's frustration.
He can see them out of the windows, but they pay him no nevermind at all.

Can you see the name chiseled into the stone where Mr. Chipmunk is sitting?
(You might have to enlarge the picture; click on it once, or twice.)
"Robert Tuttle," it says; he grew up in That Old House, back around the turn of the century. The last century.
I wonder if his Mom was annoyed that he carved his name in the wall? I hope not.

I hope you enjoyed my Show and Tell for Friday!
Visit Cindy at My Romantic Home for more showing-and-telling.

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But wait! There's more!

It's Fertilizer Friday at Tootsie Time,
and I'm going to Flaunt My Flowers . . . at least some of them!

Looking along the border:

I love April; the border is a riot of sprawling bleeding hearts and nodding tulips.
People often remark on our white bleeding hearts.
Our pink ones are jealous, and want their 15 seconds of fame:

It's pretty clear why they are called bleeding hearts, isn't it?

More pink, this time on the other side of the house:

An azalea.

Brilliant color!
Oh dear, we really do need to do a lot of grooming in the front of the house.
It is weeds-a-popping.

Thanks for stopping by!
I'm off to put fresh linens on our guest room beds; daughter Alida and her boyfriend are arriving tonight from California, just for the weekend. That Old House loves company!
Have a lovely weekend -- Cass

How I Met My House!

An Nicole of Our Suburban Cottage has a Blog Party today, Thursday April 22 -- about how you, or me, or you over there hiding behind the davenport -- about how we met our houses.

For me, it was online dating that lead me to That Old House.
And I was engaged to another house at the time!

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In 2007, Howard and I had a contract to buy an 1890s house in another community; gorgeous yard, fabulous neighborhood, amazing new maple and granite kitchen, magazine-spread-worthy bathrooms . . . and just a few weeks before we were to close on this purchase, and the sale of our own house, I was stalking . . . I mean looking at . . . other houses for sale, and this picture popped up:


Now you have to understand the depths of my dottiness, in that I saw this picture, and it took my breath away. I am telling you, my heart skipped a beat. A normal person would have thought, "Whew! What kind of nutters would buy that old dump?"

But not me. No indeedy. For me, it was Love At First Sight.

There it was, the house I had always hoped to own -- a Greek Revival farmhouse, built in 1832, with loads of original fittings and features, a big front porch, a long upstairs hall with plenty of bedrooms, a separate "family" staircase down to the kitchen, a full walk up attic (I pictured Jo Marsh and her apples and pens), a stone foundation, old wavy glass windows, and even a recently built sunroom that doesn't even leak!

Howard came home from work that day.

Howard: Honey, I'm home!
Me: Hi. I found the perfect house for us!
Howard: Honey, we already have a contract on a house.
Me: This one is better!
Howard: Tough toenails, Honey, we have a contract!
Me: I like this one better!
. . . and so it went.

Then, our house buyers pulled out a week before the closing, meaning we couldn't buy the other house, and those sellers found other buyers, and suddenly we did not have a contract on another house . . . but by then, the online real estate listing for the old yellow house with the big front porch was gone. I assumed it had been sold.

Then, one day, months later, while stalking the housing listings again, I saw this:

Different season, same house, same breathless and heart-stopping reaction. My house was still single, still looking for that perfect partner, still available after all!

Kismet. Serendipity. Fate. Whatever . . . it was ours.

And it still is.
We are looking forward to a long and loving relationship.
It would help if That Old House would learn to stick to a budget, but one can't have everything.
She's lucky she's cute, you know what I mean?

Click, above, to have fun visiting other stories of matches made in heaven! -- Cass

P.S. I got pretty much all of my "wish list" features here at That Old House. Howard had one thing on his Wish List: a garage. Poor Howard. He is the best of husbands.

Spaniels, Dump Trucks, And Bleeding Hearts; It's Wednesday!

Outside That Old House, the lilac blooms are plumping up.
We'll have plenty to cut this year.

We have two shades, a purply-mauve, and a deep purple.

I'm going to hold off cutting branches to bring inside till Friday.
I want them fresh for weekend company.

Also outdoors, our neighbors are planting a forest.
Or park. Or something -- on the big bare slopes behind their newly-built house.

It's been very entertaining now for 3 days, watching the landscape crews at work.
A dump truck is helping; there it is, right between our grape vines and bamboo.
Yes, we gave them permission to drive on our grass. It grows back!

Dion has his eye on those new trees that were just planted, so near . . . .

Don't even think about it, Dion!

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Speaking of Dion, a couple of weeks ago I found this at a garage sale:

A long lost relative!

A Staffordshire-style spaniel.
He cost us all of 25-cents.

A couple of cracks, but no repairs.

Who will notice a few small lines?
That's what I tell myself, anyway, every morning . . . .

That's Part 1 of my red and white for this Wednesday --
Red & White Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, real and not.

Part 2 belongs to Mother Nature:

Our white bleeding hearts; love them! The pink ones are further along in the border, but I love the red tulip against the fresh green and clean white. I'm going to have to remember to tuck in more red tulips come Fall.

Just, don't come too soon, okay, Fall?

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Visit Sue at It's A Very Cherry World for Rednesday:

Hop on over to say "Hi" to Susan at A Southern Daydreamer for Outdoor Wednesday:

And don't forget Kathleen at Faded Charm for White Wednesday!

Happy Wednesday! -- Cass

So, I Hear You Are Hot And Easy . . . .

I'm re-recipe-ing on Sunday Favorites!

Yesterday it was chilly and gray. My sister and her husband came for dinner, and I needed a simple meal, one that would keep our guests comfortable in our 60-degree house. Howard and I needed to keep them warm, with enough spice and heat that they wouldn't notice we turned off the boiler. . . .

Hey, who knew Spring would be so chilly?

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I made Chili, hot and easy, a great big pot's worth -- enough to feed 20 people.
Unless the people you are feeding are related to either me, or Howard.
Then, maybe ... ten?

It's a recipe from the first Silver Palate Cookbook, 'way back around 1980.
I've been making it forever, and posted the recipe more than a year ago in a l-o-n-g post about all sorts of things: Foodie trainwreck, guest room, butler's pantry . . . if you are in the mood to read. A lot. Go here.

Otherwise, I'm just going to tell you how to make this really really good chili.
The recipe is a repeat; the pics are new.

You'll need some canned goods.

Also, a bunch of spices, sweet Italian sausage, garlic, chopped chuck, onions,
a touch of red wine, olive oil . . . well, you get the idea.

Let those onions get all sweaty and shiny in the olive oil.
No pain, no gain, right?

"Oy, I'm schvitzing!"

Brown the sausage (sans casing) and the chuck with the onions.
Now don't they play nice together?
And doesn't meat just look ghastly in photos?

Mix in the tomato paste, and cook it -- you usually want to cook tomato paste first, before mixing in a lot of other ingredients; it gives the paste a deeper, mellower flavor that way. Brings out the best. Remember all the herbs and spices.

Now those lovely ripe, plump plum tomatoes.
Snuggle them into the mix, nice and cozy.

Kidney beans! These are organic.
That makes absolutely no difference to the chili.
Howard did the shopping, so I suspect they were on sale.

And now ... with all the spices and herbs in the mix, the lemon juice, the dill . . . comes the wine.
Splash it in!

Remember, don't cook with a wine you wouldn't drink.
That leaves a pretty big field, for us.

The chili is done, and we are ready for dinner.

A Reality Check Tablescape.
This is what a family gathering looks like: the pot on the table, and not one fancy thing in sight.
Well, maybe my sister Peggy. She's pretty fancy. :-)

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Here's the recipe if you want it.
There are wonderful, layered, complex flavors in this chili --
the dill and the lemon are such unexpected additions.

Silver Palate Chili For a Crowd

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound yellow onions, coarsely chopped
1 pound sweet Italian sausage, removed from casings
4 pounds beef chuck, ground
1 can (12 ounces) tomato paste
1 1/2 tablespoons minced garlic
1/3 cup ground cumin
1/2 cup chili powder
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons dried basil
2 tablespoons dried oregano
1 1/2 tablespoons salt,
or to taste
1 1/2 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper
3 cans (28 ounces each) Italian plum tomatoes, drained
1/4 cup dry red wine
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup chopped fresh dill (Use fresh if available, but dried will work in a pinch; just use less -- Cass)
1/4 cup chopped parsley (Dried parsley flakes can be used if you don't have fresh; use less -- Cass)
2 cans (16 ounces each) dark-red kidney beans, drained
2 cans (5 1/2 ounces each) pitted black olives, drained (I use sliced pitted black olives -- Cass)

1. Heat the olive oil in a very large pot. Add the onions and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until wilted, about 15 minutes. Add the sausage meat and ground chuck; cook over medium-high heat, stirring, until the meats are well browned. Spoon off any excess fat and discard.
2. Stir in the tomato paste, garlic, cumin, chili powder, mustard, basil, oregano, salt and pepper. Add the tomatoes, wine, lemon juice, dill, parsley and kidney beans. Stir well and simmer, uncovered, for another 15 minutes.
3. Taste and adjust seasonings. Add olives; simmer for 5 minutes more to heat through. Serve immediately.

Serves 20. (Easily doubled!)

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I put out sour cream, shredded sharp cheddar, and if Howard insists I'll put out chopped raw onion, but then he has to sleep with Dion on the Wally Bed. And sometimes Dion kicks him off.

If I don't put olives in the chili because some people don't like them (I am not mentioning names, Bill, I'm just looking at you and whistling), then I add them to the bowls of add-ons. I happen to adore olives, any kind. Even the canned ones that I use in the chili.

I used my new bird dishes to hold the toppings for the chili.
They worked just fine, just the right size.

Thanks to Chari of Happy To Design for hosting Sunday Favorites!
Click and be whisked away to those thrilling days of yesteryear!

Enjoy your Sunday! -- Cass

Rub-A-Dub-Dub Dion

I'm joining A Few Of My Favorite Things Saturday, at Bargain Hunting and Chatting with Laurie, to feature Dion and, in a nod to That Old House who otherwise might feel ignored, our soapstone counter and enormous kitchen sink.


There's a tie-in there, folks.
Dion did not have a happy Friday, and it all had to do with the big kitchen sink.

I'll let Dion tell the story in his own words . . . .

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Excuse me. Excuse me! Did anyone notice you have put the dog in the kitchen sink?
I believe you have perhaps confused me with a turkey?

Uh-oh. Water. I smell the ghastly aroma of shampoo.
Things look bleak for me.

People, people -- the spiky look just doesn't work for me. And it is so 90s!

If I think good thoughts, this will all seem like a dream . . . .

Yikes! Not when they wash me there!
Isn't that illegal? Invasion of privates and all that?

My face. My manly chest. Is no place sacred?

You know, I don't think you are feeding me enough.
I may have to call the Authorities.

Why do you think I want to smell like papaya and coconut?
Who would ever want to smell like papaya and coconut when they can smell

like mud and squashed bugs and things that come oozing out of their own bodies?

It's gonna take me days or at least a good dead rodent to get this stink offa me.
I am not happy.

Now they are turning me into a mummy!

And I never had a chance to be a daddy!

Whew! Air!

At least there are comfy sofas to absorb that last bit of dampness from my ears.

But I'm afraid to fall asleep.
Nightmares.

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Dion's nightmare is not quite over. He will need at least two good brushings today, to remove the very last of the loose winter coat; I'll do that outside, and the birds can use the fuzzies to line their nests. Recycling!

If you are among those who think it is uber-icky to wash a dog in a kitchen sink, my apologies for the pictures! We've done this for years, and always give the sink and surrounding area a very thorough cleaning and disinfecting afterward. I can no longer bend over a bathtub and wrestle with a squiggling canine; my back will protest even more than the dog.

And about that sink and counter -- they are absolutely among my very favoritest things. We had them installed just days before Thanksgiving in '09. The story is here.

(That's right after installation, with the backsplash still missing . . .
which it still is, but sshhh, don't tell anyone, ok? At least we have covered the insulation.)

We chose soapstone for the counters as it fits the age of the house, and we bought the largest stock sink we could find; I'd been suffering for almost two years with a double sink that not only wasn't big enough to bathe a small dog in, it wasn't big enough to wash a cookie sheet or lobster pot in.

Anyway, those are my favorites for this Saturday. Now I am going to go torment Dion some more, with brush and comb, and then after changing my own clothes I'm putting on a pot of Silver Palate Chili -- it's a chilly weekend in northern NJ, and I've got company coming!

Have a lovely weekend -- Cass