My little heart sachets are a delight. I scatter them through drawers to keep them fresh with their lavender scent. They are fun to spot as I rifle through drawers, and then, once a year, I gather them in a pretty basket and display them on my dresser.

To line the basket, I used my wedding handkerchief, handmade in Cuba and brought to me by my beloved godmother, Mamá Lala.

The sachets have been collected through countless years; some are gifts, others I found in unexpected places.

Here's the basket from a few years ago, in which I used a different handkerchief to line the basket. Love is in the air. ❤

Lavender Hearts

Romancing the home continues, with these darling lavender-filled sachets . . .

Because I keep them in various drawers, I had not realized just how many of them I had collected over the years!

They are now being displayed in the Guest Bedroom.  The scent is heavenly!

I never pass up an opportunity to display my hankies.  My husband bought me this one at Marshall Field's many years ago.  Click here to see a better picture of this lovely handkerchief, and the story of how I came to have it.  Marshall Field's . . . every other day I think of that store . . .

I'd love a basket like this for every room in the house!  How do you romance your home?

Spring Tea Party

I work with a group of amazing women who have managed, despite our reluctance of mixing business with pleasure, to become friends. We all take turns hosting in our own style; one friend hosts a cookout every year, another hosts an appetizer extravaganza, yet another can't cook worth spit (her words) so she takes the whole gang out to dinner . . . Me, I just love the idea of sitting around cups of steaming tea, sharing finger food and catching up on each other's lives - talking about anything but the latest work craziness that occassionally has us snapping at each other from the stress . . . Besides, it's a great excuse to make cucumber sandwiches . . . I adore cucumber sandwiches . . .

So here was the menu: Egg salad daisies . . .

Rosebud cupcakes . . .

I wish I could say that I cooked all this food myself, but I had a little help from some delightful local vendors. The cupcakes were from Jewel, our local supermarket. When I mentioned to the lady at the bakery that I was having a tea party, she was so enthusiastic about their rosebud cupcakes, that I ordered them sight unseen. They were as delicious as they were pretty . . .

I got to play with my new dessert dishes (more on that later). The napkins were given to me 20 years ago by my godmother, and I used them for the first time at my son David's baptism.

Phyllo tartlets filled with lemon custard and topped with fresh berries . . . Herbed cucumber sandwiches on nutty wheat bread . . . Ham and cheese bites on rye bread . . . Fresh berries with clotted cream . . .

Strawberry Scones, Wild Blueberry Scones, Glazed Orange Scones and Shortbread Cookies . . . all from Panera Bread . . . and if you happen to go there around dinnertime to place your order, go ahead and have one of their Cuban Panini Sandwiches - not authentic but delicious just the same!

I first saw these dessert dishes at Macy's, they are part of the "Conservatory" pattern, in the Martha Stewart Collection for Wedgwood. Then I spotted them at HomeGoods for a third of the price, and, well . . . they were meant to be mine . . . There are six little birds hidden in the design of this plate. Can you spot them?

Here's one of them . . .

Here's another one . . .

Some leftover Baby's Breath that was just too pretty to discard got tucked in a vase . . .

And a little party favor to take home: An embroidered handkerchief . . .

Each was unique . . . just like the lovely ladies who took them home . . .

This is how they ended up being displayed . . . My Aunt Olga gave me this cake stand 18 years ago. I remember the look in my aunt's eyes, hoping that I liked her present, bought at a garage sale, the only thing she could afford to give me at the time . . . there was so much love in those eyes . . . Isn't it beautiful?

A huge thank you to my three boys: My husband, Lee, and my sons, John and David. They sliced bread, spread filling, brewed tea and helped me set up this lovely table . . . and then they thoughtfully took themselves off to do manly things so my friends and I could have the house all to ourselves . . . You guys truly are my cup of tea!

The last hankie

This was my wedding handkerchief. My Aunt Lala had it made in Cuba hoping that she'd be able to send it to me and that some day I'd carry it on my wedding day. She had no idea at the time that she would ultimately be coming to the U.S. herself and bringing it to me in person. She stood in line for a week in order to be able to acquire the embroidery floss from which it was knit. Fabric was scarce, so the linen center of the hankie came from a shirt I wore as an infant.

I snagged one of the threads with my wedding ring, and Mama Lala offered to repair it afterwards, but somehow, we never got around to it. It's just as well, the snag is part of the memories of this day. The arrow in the picture below points to the handkerchief which I'm holding in my right hand. The photo was taken by my brother-in-law, Doug.

A Lady's Handbag Primer

This handkerchief belonged to my mother and it came to me, along with most of her things, when she passed away. And it does remind me of the items that she always carried in her purse, and that, according to her, were essential to a lady:

• Two handkerchiefs - as an acquaintance described it (rather indelicately, I may add), one for show and one for blow. I imagine this one was for show
• Rosary beads, and, before 1965 a veil to cover the head before entering church
• A fan
• A few coins to tip the attendant in a public restroom, or to make an emergency phone call, or to light a candle in church
• Lipstick and a powder compact

How times have changed! Even while she was alive she no longer recognized the contents of my purse with its bulging wallet that contained more cash than she had ever carried, and . . . credit cards! No veil, no fan, no powder compact, sometimes a tube of lipstick, sometimes a hankie, along with . . . a pack of Kleenex!

My grandmother's gifts

My maternal grandmother, Mama Abuela, sent me this hankie from Cuba for my 15th birthday - the all important 15th birthday in a Cuban girl's life. I actually remember seeing this handkerchief in her drawer during one of my visits to her home. The hankie was a small token, but her love was huge.

I've never washed or pressed this handkerchief. If I hold it close to my face, I can still breathe in the faint scents of sandalwood, cedar, and jasmine - the way her armoire always smelled. Those scents transport me back to afternoons spent in her tiny home, telling her all of my travails while she loyally took my side on every issue.

Here she is at my brother Al's First Communion. She hated to have her picture taken and would only pose under duress. Her fingers are intertwined with mine in this photo, and I remember she loved doing that.
Another note on the photo: Al is wearing, along with his "tails," the same cross I wore for my First Communion. And, two years later, I am wearing once again my First Communion dress shortened, modified and accessorized with a pink fabric rose pinned to the waist.

Hiccups and burps and wind! Oh, my!

I soaked this hanky laughing so hard. I was in church with Mama Lala, my godmother, and during intercessions, every time the congregation said "Lord, hear our prayer" the baby in front of us hiccupped. When the prayers concluded and the priest said "Amen" the baby let out a huge belch. He then scrunched up his face, as though he were going to start wailing. But no, he was just concentrating very hard . . . to brake wind!


Mama Lala grabbed my hand and we flew out of the church as fast as we could. My goodness, we laughed. We couldn't look at each other, or we'd start laughing again. That's when Mama Lala took out this hanky and thrust it at me so I could wipe my eyes. The "intercessions" part of Mass, has never been the same again.

Another hankie tale

This old friend has been through a lot with me. It mopped up a bloody nose once. It was soaked in alcohol another time to disinfect a cut. It was also the handkerchief that dried my tears when we said our farewells as we left Cuba.

As a young girl, this was my favorite handkerchief. I remember reaching into my drawer and pulling it out, over and over again. My mother would always put it at the bottom of the stack so I would use some of the others, but I would look for this one, and, if it was clean, that's the one that would go in my school bag, pocket or purse.


The hankie has been retired for quite a while. The embroidery on the scalloped edge is unraveling in some spots, so now it's my turn to take care of this old retainer who served me well and deserves respect and a safe place to live out its old age.

A handkerchief, polyester, my mother, Tom Jones and Photoshop. Writing challenge: How to incorporate these random phrases into a blog posting.

This handkerchief was sent to me in Cuba, as a First Communion gift inside a greeting card from a cousin living in the U.S. (lower your voice an octave, slow down your tempo and say "Norte America" in very respectful tones, if you please). And, not only did it come from "Norte America" but it was made from . . . polyester (please inject the same tone here).

I'm sure there must have been other times, but I only remember my mother using such reverential tones in two other instances: When referring to her favorite perfume, Mitsouko, by Guerlain, and her favorite pop singer, Tom Jones.

Yes, polyester had just entered the Cuban lexicon in 1965, and it was all the rage to own something made out of this miracle fabric. In actuality, it's a pain to iron this handkerchief, a hot iron can melt the lace lickety split, you have to lay a t-shirt over it to protect the lace.

Here is a photo of me in all my First Communion finery. I was wearing a veil, a floor-length, long-sleeved dress, gloves, voluminous petticoats, and a host of essential accessories, a big heavy cross (a family tradition, all the kids in the family wore it), a rosary, a book of prayers and a handbag that held the infamous hankie. Did I mention that I made my communion on August 15th? In Cuba? Is it a wonder that I don't look particularly happy?

You can also see the handkerchief in the photo below. I practiced my Photoshop technique on this one. Here's before . . .

And here is after . . .
I made a few "improvements" to the original. If you notice, there was a black "square" above the angel's wing. I have no idea what it was supposed to be. I eliminated it using the "Patch" tool (or, as my son, David, used to say when he was little, I "distappeared it"). Also, I repaired the angel's wing, and refinished the base of the angel's statue. Here I was practicing with the "Stamp" tool. I had to weigh maintaining the integrity of the original photograph against my visceral need to make things nice and tidy. I imagine this will be a continuing struggle in the months to come.

An Eight-Part Handkerchief Study

Thank you, dear co-workers (you know who you are) who check on my blog periodically, even if you don't get a chance to post comments. I still get your e-mails and enjoy your feedback. One of these days, you may try doing it from home (I know y'all have high-speed Internet!) and then I'll probably faint from the surprise!

The "Broken Paradise" posting of August 4th drew a lot of interest - but not for what I expected. The thing that seemed to catch everyone's interest was . . . the handkerchief! I received several requests to post a picture of the handkerchief spread out so the detail could be seen.

As I went back to my drawer to pull it out again, I realized I have a collection of them! All of them were given to me by a loved one. Every single one of them precious for the memory it holds. So, in the coming weeks, you'll be seeing my little collection now and again.

Here is the troublemaker that started it all:

My husband, Lee, gave me this hanky. We were shopping at Marshall Field's many years ago (I still miss that store!) and I spotted this little beauty behind the glass counter in the Accessories Department. I remember gushing about how lovely it was, and then promptly moving on to Kitchen Appliances. Lee and I got separated in the store shortly after that, and when he finally caught up with me, he handed me a tiny Marshall Field's green paper bag, that, lo and behold, contained the very handkerchief!
The gesture, was so very, very sweet. I know that he probably thought he had taken leave of his senses, spending good money on . . . a handkerchief? Isn't that what Kleenex are for, for goodness sake? But the decision was based entirely on his wish to make me happy. And, yes, this frothy bit of lace, did.

“Broken Paradise” by Cecilia Samartin

This is a wonderfully told story of two Cuban cousins separated by Castro's revolution. Nora, the cousin that was able to leave, brings up the concept of the “ghost heart” - the “part of yourself that you can give away without losing who you are.” Except in her case, she felt she had given away the part that was real and only kept the “ghost heart” for herself.

Do we live with a ghost heart part of our lives? On occasion, I've painfully longed for the country of my birth, and for my parents. Is this a manifestation of the ghost heart? Always, the feelings subside and I go on living. Perhaps the ghost heart hasn't found a comfortable host in my breast. Soon, my son will go away to college. Will I be able to send him off with the ghost heart? Will I be strong enough to keep my real heart intact while this enormous part of my life moves away to start a life of his own? God, I pray so.

Anyway, I hope you get a chance to read this book, if for no other reason that the prose is beautifully evocative. This is definitely a 2-hankie read. Enjoy a good cry!