Note: Blogger has not been too friendly to me the past few days. Seems they’re doing repairs and it’s wrecking havoc on the formatting (notice the beginning of the problems on my last post). Seems better now, so I will try to update you as quickly as possible on the past few days.
“Too Much Mustard” always reminds me of that great scene in the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film, The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle, when they first show off their dancing skills at a supper club in turn-of-the-century Paris.
“Tell them to play ‘Too Much Mustard'", Fred Astaire says all nervous. The band kicks in and they rush to the dance floor to perform The Castle Walk. And just like that, all of
But right now, Too Much Mustard literally means that I have too much mustard in my kitchen.
This is all due to a certain Mrs. Lear.
An old friend of mine has an amazing blog called The Runcible Bin that I love to follow. On the blog, she goes by the pseudonym, Mrs. Lear. In fact, it was her blog and another friend of mine’s blog, The Urban Erma, that inspired me to start my little blog.
Mrs. Lear’s blog is full of gorgeous photos and little notes on what her creative little mind is up to that day. Cooking, knitting, pottery, décor, little flea market finds---and all done with her personal sense of style. It’s very distinctive. Very adventurous. VERY Mrs. Lear.
These things are not for sale. Nor does she post instructions on how to duplicate her wares. It’s not like shopping. Or even Martha Stewart. No consumer chord is struck.
Instead, like a tiny, unknown acupuncture point---the sight of one single hand-knitted sock can boost your energy level, relieve your stress, and increase your creativity level tenfold.
The effect is visceral. Like going to a museum. You don’t come out of there wanting to paint a Giotto---you just want to create.
Last week, Mrs. Lear posted a note about how she had made mustard. I was immediately intrigued.
I LOVE mustard. Always have at least four kinds handy in my kitchen---regular yellow, spicy brown,
Little projects like this are the perfect retreat for me to get away from the computer, get out of my writing head, and spend an hour to two completely focused on the minutiae of mustard.
Monday afternoon, I devoted two whole hours of my life to mustard. At the end of two hours, I had four little sample jars lined up in my kitchen. Aging. Yes, you need to age your mustard. At least, that’s what I learned online in that two-hour period.
Of course, I should really devote more time to mustard if I’m going to get any real handle on the condiment. And Mrs. Lear told me via her blog that there are two whole books out about mustard. Whee!
Also, today’s experimentation not only cleared my mind, but also cleared my seasonal-allergy filled sinuses---boy, that mustard is spicy!
On days when I need to stay home and write and have no time to visit with my inspiring friends, Mrs. Lear is always there to inspire me to not only make mustard, but to be a creative person just for the sake of creating.
While the mustard sat aging on my kitchen table, I went back to my writing. Within an hour, with a clear head and sinuses, I was able to finish my latest writing project and hit that beloved “Print” button while wearing my mustard-colored socks.
I decide I’ll take this week to thank some of my inspiring friends. Not only do I feel they deserve it; but frankly, I’m getting a little tired of talking about myself over these 30 days.
Sometimes, you may not be able to get out of the garret. But I’m so lucky to have friends like Mrs. Lear who can inspire me from afar.
And, for added inspiration, here's a link to the tune, "Too Much Mustard", written in 1911 by Cecil Macklin and performed here by "Perfessor" Bill Edwards at the Sedalia, Missouri Scott Joplin Festival in 2008.
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