The Angler flinches when I refer to this as “my” wedding. However, I don’t recall him losing any sleep over the 3000 blooms, the lemon leaf garlands, the pink and white striped tent, the 5 inch wide double face satin ribbon that I finally tracked down in Canada or the the months spent locating the perfect dress without a single bead or embellishment – which was nearly unheard of in the late 90’s. I loved MY wedding. I loved the research. I loved my organized notebooks that finally were dwindled down to the perfect outline of The guest list. The food. The flowers. The music. As we rode away that day as Mr. and Mrs in our horse drawn carriage (of course!) my heart fluttered with glee …with just a hint of sadness. That small ping that said, “This was it”. The only other time I would ever have The food. The flowers. The music and everyone I ever loved in the same room would be ……..my funeral.

This might seem a wee bit morbid, but if you’re from the South you know that a fascination with death is just part of our breeding. From the time we are born we know the recipes our mommas tote for additions to the family and which recipes are used for subtractions. We frame pictures of family members long since parted and usually the only story we know about them is some gruesome detail that led to their ultimate demise. For example, I have a picture of my great Aunt Mable framed in my guest room. I never knew her. She was pretty. I hear she was extremely talented – a writer, a painter, a seamstress and a bulimic. She died at the age of 30. They say the good die young.

Which might explain why – at the age of 23 – I sat watching Princess Diana’s funeral procession and thinking to myself, “Those Easter lilies are gorgeous. Make a note of that. ( just in case)” Or when pics were published of Jackie O’s graveside I noted, “the greenery and lilies of the valley that formed a cross. So elegant. so simple. So peaceful. and so going on ‘the list’.”

“Final” Lists are not anything unusual for my people. My grandmother kept a notebook in the top drawer of her dining room buffet for years where she would write and scratch out what she wanted to wear for burial. Pink ruffled dress. Scratch. Brocade Suit. When I was younger and my parents would travel off to distant places, Mother would always stoop as she said goodbye and whisper in my ear the current location of all the info I’d need to know if they shouldn’t return. To be honest, I never once looked at her list. Thank goodness, I haven’t had to yet.

Today, I’m carrying on this crazy family tradition. On my coffee table is a beautiful antiqued box The Angler and I lovingly refer to as my “death box” It contains notes and letters of my dear ones that have gone before me…and the “Final List” which I update from time to time outlining the who’s, what’s, whens of my funeral…when I shall…well…pass. (There is also a copy on my iPhone)
Now I know as a believer, I’ll be too busy dancing and decorating my mansion in glory to really care about earthly blooms and such. But – while I’m having the time of my everlasting life – I do believe the ones left behind should have a glimpse of eternity too.

As styles change – so does the list, but some things always remain: The flowers – must be white. Aromatic. Smell like heaven. Virginia Roses, casablanca lilies, peonies, lilies of the valley, white hydrangeas, french tulips – But please NO gladiolus – those just scream death. The music – A list of classic and contemporary hymns. Be prepared to sing Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus – and you better stand as is the rightful tradition when it is played. If a choreographed gospel choir can be arranged with a New Orleans Jazz band to play “When the Saints” I’d like that too. And I want party favors. When I go marching into glory – I want everyone to walk away from a celebration of life with a string of pearls and song in their heart.

Now here are the two sticking points that gets my family when I go talking about my funeral…and probably what compels me to write this the most. (YOU are my witnesses)

1. If I’m ever on life support – Don’t take me off until I’m at least back to a size 4. Now, a size 2 would be optimal. I’ve never been a size 2. But a size 4 ensures my favorite dresses will fit for this funeral fete.

2. I only approve an open casket if its open on the FOOT end. If I should die in fall/ winter – I want my Black suede Prada ruffled heels and my toes painted with OPI “Oh to be 25 Again”. If I depart while the spring & summer is coming to life, I want to wear my nude patent Jimmy Choos with “Sweet Memories” painted on my piggies. I just LOVE how OPI polish has names for all occaisions.

Lord willin, I still have a long time to add more to the “final” list, but if the valet arrives early with my chariot to glory…know most of the details are covered. They are fabulous…and this is one funeral you won’t want to miss.(all photos taken with my trusty little iPhone at the historical Mount Holly Cemetary in Little Rock. If you haven’t toured this treasure in the heart of our city,   April 25th is your chance when The Mount Holly Cemetary Association will host it’s annual picnic – “Restore in Perpetuity”. The event will be from 5-7pm, cemetary tours, boxed suppers, live musical entertainment, a silent auction {I find the “live” and “silent” a wee bit funny for the setting} and a chance to sip a Mount Holly Spritzer a refreshing concoction of wine, lemonade, and mint. Tickets are $75 and provides funds necessary for upkeep to this grand landmark. Call 375-5197 to purchase. )

If you’ve hung around my virtual veranda for long, you realize I am a girl who adores a great shoe (and can’t seem to quit writing about them. I promise this is the last FTF shoe post for awhile.) I’m a girly sort. Food, flowers, fashion. Sporty, I am not. Nevertheless, I decided to be sporty on Sunday and it turned into a fashion fiasco. Or did it…..

I limped into the MD’s office on Monday in my cute black patent Tory Burch flats. I left with the Air Cast 3000 to secure my calf muscle which I had gracefully torn sprinting for a ball. The bad news, I’m in “the boot” for at least two to four weeks. The good news, the doctor took one look at my trendy no-heeled shoes and said,”You’ll need to wear a heel on your other foot to balance your gait. Do you have a higher shoe?” HA! Do I have a higher shoe? Apparently fashion prowess is not part of the medical record or he would know my collection of summer wedges is – to put in laboratory terms- “above normal limits”.

For moi, the summer wedge is the winter boot equivalent. It’s daytime. Its’ nighttime. Its casual. Its dressy. Although – I’ll be honest – The Angler finds them utterly ridiculous. Most men do. Except for the ones who matter most in the shoe world – you know Jimmy, Manolo, Christian, Marc and the original wedge designer Salvatore -as in Ferragamo.

Ferragamo designed the first platform wedge sandal for Judy Garland in 1938. His creation soon became all the rage throughout Europe during World War II and by the end of the war, women were standing nearly 5 inches taller than when the war began.

That vintage vibe and the soaring heights, no wonder I’m smitten for these beauties for Spring/ Summer 2010.  Join me on my virtual hobble through the internets…

My go-to wedges are in nude or metallic hues.  These make your legs look miles long

seychelles wedge. www.urbanoutfitters.com

juicy couture www.net-a-porter.com

delman www.dillards.com

Nothing says summertime like a ladylike espadrille.  Love those ballet -esque ribbons to tie around the ankle

Christian Louboutin www.net-a-porter.com

marc jacobs www.zappos.com

Of course, a little pop of color never hurts…

jimmy choo www.net-a-porter.com

These are just incredibly yummy!

charles david www.zappos.com

But then, again,  black and white has it’s own panache…

sam edelman www.anthropologie.com

The tribal feel of these wedges would look great paired with natural linen and layers of wooden beads.

These little darlins make me want to plan a summertime soiree by the pool…

kate spade "cabana" www.zappos.com

Orange you glad I didn’t forget  these Louboutins?  (sorry for my silly pun)

Christian Louboutin www.bluefly.com

A new take on Missoni’s signature stripes, Dorothy would approve this rainbow.

missoni www.zappos.com

Just think – these could have been the ruby slippers….

moschino www.zappos.com

Bette Midler said, “Give the girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world”

For now,  I’m armed with ‘the boot” and  a cute wedge,  so world,  I can still take ya.

Have a fab ( and careful) weekend.  May it be filled with wedges of sunlight and a rainbow or two.

Cheers, Y’all!

“Adventure is out there!”

This fun musical piece was created by pogo from a mash of sounds featured in the endearing movie UP.   It’s so invigorating and exactly what I needed  to get me UP and at ‘em this week.     Happy Monday, Y’all!

little chucks…sigh

little trucks….sigh

little charmer….sigh.

While it seems a calm little stroll through the countryside – he is actually screaming and running away from me….which is why I totally bricked on this focus.  I’m posting the image anyway,  because when he finally gets to his mom’s arms he says,  ”Where did the pretty lady go?”

Told you he was a charmer.

I , then, asked him if would be my boyfriend.   He shyly shook his head yes.    He excitedly  jumped up and down and chanted, “oh boy! oh boy! oh boy!”    It totally melted my heart.   I was walking on cloud nine.   I thought we are about to get some awesome pics of  my cute little boyfriend.  Then he refused to have any more photos made.

This kid totally has my number.  I’m smitten.

What a week!  Funny how the very moment I promise myself to maintain a strict calendar, my days get cattywhompus.   Thankfully, I can say most things this week made my heart happy.    I can’t wait to share.   (and no, I’m not pregnant!)

Lord willin’, I’ll be back next week with a new recipe, a lesson in grace, fun pics, and a favorite thing.

The clock will strike Friday soon.   YAY!  We made it to the weekend.   Make it a great one, y’all.

SMILE!

And if you are still scrambling today when florists and liquor stores are closed, and restaurants are booked.  a good ol fashioned mix cd still rocks, too! – Just sayin

Now go share the love.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Y’all!

I had the best birthday parties.  And this was before birthday parties were the productions they are today.   When I turned 5,  she sent out invitations shaped like teapots and requested that all the attendees dress like their very chic, fashionable mothers.   I’m pretty sure she got the idea because I had a skirt of hers that I insisted on wearing all. the. time.   It was black with a green ivy print.   I would pull the skirt up under my arms and fashion it into a strapless dress.  I would cinch it with a gold belt.  I would remove  the proper barrette from my hair and let my waist long locks wildly cascade down. I considered this my “Jane” look …as in Tarzan and Jane. My dog Misty was Cheetah.  ( I was a pretty intense 5 year old)  When birthday party day arrived. I wore the skirt – but she made me wear the matching top and put my hair in a bun.  I had to be a young lady for the tea party.  Jane was not invited.   We held a fashion show.  Each girl dressed in her mother’s ‘best” sashayed down the catwalk (our long narrow coffee table).  My mom took pictures of each girl.  After the party she had them framed and gave them as party favors.  I grew up spending the night with a friend who kept that picture on her bookshelf until we left for college.

In 3rd grade,  we hosted a Valley Girl party.   It was totally tubular!  I mean, like , I’m so sure if you weren’t there you were so totally not rad.  I wore a red sweatshirt with the neck line cut out of it  - a la Jennifer Beale.   We played a game where we had to stand straight up, drop spoons from chest level into a large pickle jar painted with red lips on it. The game was called….oh yeah ….wait for it…..”Gag me with a spoon”  Mom was clever.

My thirteenth birthday was captured on film in a Polaroid scavenger hunt party.  One of our assignments was to get a picture of our favorite junior high football player with his jersey.  While my mom and her friends were shuttling us around town for our winning shots. There was another mom who suddenly had 15 girls clamoring on her house one quiet Saturday afternoon to get pictures of her son.   We apparently all had the same favorite player.  (Hi Jim!)

As I’ve grown up,  I’ve carried on the birthday party tradition. Some years it’s over the top. This year,  I’m keeping it simple.   My dearest friend from childhood is flying in from Dallas for the day. She’ll meet another dear friend of mine here in Little Rock.  The three of us will lunch.  There’s some Vueve Cliquot chilling in the refrigerator that the Angler brought home tonight.  I have no idea what is up his sleeve.   We’ll have to wait and see.

As for mom, she’s already mailed me the  birthday card I can’t read without boo-hooing.  And I’m expecting an early morning phone call.   She’ll start by singing “Happy Birthday to You” off key – but that’s ok.    Then she’ll tell me she remembers it well the day I was born.  She was up at midnight making cookies for my brother’s 1st grade Christmas party.  (Does this start to explain some things about me?)  I was born a mere 4 hours later  at 4:35 a.m.   I’ll joke that it was the only time I’ve ever been a morning person.  Then she’ll sing “you are my sunshine” – off key.  She’ll tell me she wishes she could hug my neck.    I’ll tell her I’ll be home soon to hug hers.  She’ll also remind me of the cute yellow coat she bought me as a gift.

After I hang up the phone with my mother,  I’ll put on my yellow coat and get ready to face a brand new year.  I’ll head to the airport to pick up my friend. I’ll splurge at lunch and get dessert.  And if they so happen to put a candle on my raspberry pie – I’ll make a wish.  I’ll wish that all of us have a year filled with joy and panache.

Cheers, Y’all!

Thankfully time calms us  – or maybe it is that I no longer have the time nor energy to create such holiday masterpieces. The recipes are easier this year which allows me to embrace the joy this season has to offer.   Nothing is better than hugging a friend’s neck when I deliver the sweet treats to their door.  So, this year’s simplified Christmas 2009 baking list includes:

My famous “secret-ingredient- I-may-someday-tell-you-what-it-is” Chocolate Chip Cookies

Mocha Bundt Cakes ( recipe via Junior League of Little Rock’s BIG TASTE OF LITTLE ROCK cookbook)

Ina Garten’s recipe for Jam Thumb Print Cookies.*

The thumbprint cookies are the one thing this year that err on my historical pattern of culinary pretension.   I blame the jam jars.  I mean – just looking at them makes me smile.   But they are still JUST cookies – and not so difficult to make.   This morning, I offered to plate a few of these delicious jam covered morsels and let the Angler share them at this year’s company potluck.   He looked at me.  I knew that look.  It’s that same look I gave my mom when she wanted me to wear the pink bow in my hair when I was twelve and I felt way too old for bows.    He smiled and said,  ” They are a little sissy.  I think I’ll stop and pick up doughnuts.”  Despite the fact I just launched a culinary / photography/ lifestyle blog yesterday,  I let him. More jam for my cookies and less of putting him in one.   I guess it’s the joy of the season taking hold.

Jam Thumbprint Cookies

recipe courtesy Ina Garten, Barefoot Contessa Family Style, Clarkson Potter/Publishers, 2002

Ingredients:

• 3/4 pound (3 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature  (BUTTER – not the fake stuff)
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (PURE – the best you can find)
• 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 egg beaten with 1 tablespoon water, for egg wash
• 7 ounces of sweetened flaked coconut (don’t worry it’s not that coconutty)
• Raspberry and or apricot jam  ( blackberry jam would be scrumptious, too)

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream together the butter and sugar until they are just combined and then add the vanilla.  Separately, sift the four and salt.  ( yes, sift the flour.  don’t skip this step.  It incorporates the right amount of air and allows the salt to distribute more evenly) With the mixer on low speed, add the flour mixture to the creamed butter and sugar.  Mix until the dough starts to come together.  Dump on a floured board and roll together into a flat disk.  Wrap in plastic and chill for 30 minutes.

Roll the dough into 1 1/4 inch balls.  (Ina suggests a scale to weigh each at 1 ounce.  I use a one ounce cookie dough/ ice cream scoop) Dip each ball into the egg wash and then roll it in the coconut.   Place the balls on an ungreased cookie sheet and press a light indention into the top of each with your thumb. (Get it THUMBPRINT cookies) Drip 1/4 teaspoon of jam into each indentation.  Bake for 20-25 minutes, until the coconut is a golden brown.  Cool and serve.

Cheers!

Come on in to Boots McBlog; a place for flair and folly. Let me introduce myself. My name is JoBeth – my friends call me Boots.  I’m just a girl…a thirty something girl. I’m a wife to a curly haired boy I’ve known since I was 10. I love shopping at Neiman’s – although most of my money goes to Target.  I am a jill of all trades, with a masters in Nutrition.  I am also a junk food junkie. I love food – good food. I love to find new recipes and sometimes I’ll even share them with my friends.  I love to laugh.  a lot.  I adore the finer things in life – fashion, interiors, flowers, shoes. I also know the finest, most beautiful things in life aren’t things at all. I am blessed beyond measure and amazed by grace.

And it is by grace- I picked up a camera on a whim this year and was smitten. Photography has given me an chance to compose all the things I love within a single frame -  Color, texture, light, life.  Its an opportunity to tell a story.

As a southerner, I come from a long line of gifted story tellers. bootsmcblog.com  is how I will try to carry on that tradition. I envision this as a place to share recipes, photos, tips on gracious living, fashion finds,  some favorite tunes, my quirky life observances, and the stories of people I meet along the way–  consider this my high tech veranda, if you will.

I’m glad you’re here.

So, kick off your Manolos and sit a spell.

Flair and folly awaits.