CREATE OUR OWN STYLE

 

 

"Elegance is not standing out, but being remembered." —Giorgio Armani

"Fashion is part of the daily air and it changes all the time, with all the events. You can even see the approaching of a revolution in clothes. You can see and feel everything in clothes." —Diana Vreeland

"Don't be into trends. Don't make fashion own you, but you decide what you are, what you want to express by the way you dress and the way to live." 

—Gianni Versace

"What you wear is how you present yourself to the world, especially today, when human contacts are so quick. Fashion is instant language." —Miuccia Prada

"Style is something each of us already has, all we need to do is find it." 

—Diane von Furstenberg

"Fashion is very important. It is life-enhancing and, like everything that gives pleasure, it is worth doing well.” —Vivienne Westwood

"Fashion is what you're offered four times a year by designers. And style is what you choose." —Lauren Hutton

"Fashion you can buy, but style you possess. The key to style is learning who you are, which takes years. There's no how-to road map to style. It's about self expression and, above all, attitude." —Iris Apfel

"Elegance is elimination." —Cristóbal Balenciaga

"Style is the only thing you can’t buy. It’s not in a shopping bag, a label, or a price tag. It’s something reflected from our soul to the outside world—an emotion.”—Alber Elbaz

"Fashion is about dressing according to what’s fashionable. Style is more about being yourself." —Oscar de la Renta

 

CREMORA TART

 

This is my recipe for the Cremora Tart, as I live in the UK I cannot get Cremora so I used double cream. Luckily I can get guava at the Tesco super market.

Ingredients

250ml double cream  (250ml boiling water - 500g Cremora. Beat till creamy and thick)
1 tin condense milk
250ml lemon juice
2 packets tennis biscuits (I used malted milk biscuits - Tesco)
1 tin quavas

Beat the double cream till it starts getting firm, add lemon juice and condense milk alternatively then mix till thick and creamy.

Separate the guava and the juice, chop the guavas keep aside, dip the biscuits into the guava syrup and line the serving dish.

Add a layer of the cream over the biscuits then chopped guavas then layer of cream then layer of biscuits dipped into the guava syrup till. Repeat, allowing the cream to be the last layer at then sprinkle with crushed biscuits.

Refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving.

Enjoy

VINTAGE PRINTED PATTERNS

 

Words of Wisdom

Send out love and harmony, put your mind and body in a peaceful place, and then allow the Universe to work in the perfect way that it knows how.

Everything in the Universe flows. You can't get a hold of water by clutching it. Let your hand relax, though, and then you can experience it.

Surrender to what is.

Let go of what was.

Have faith in what will be.

Your entire life consists of the present moment.

Joy doesn't come when you try to hold it all together,

Joy comes when you let God hold you.

From dark clouds we get precious water....

From dark mines we get precious jewels....

And from our darkest trials come our best blessings from God.

 

HOMEMAKERS CREED

 

The Boy and His Christmas Box

 

Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly decorated packages. But mostly, Christmas is for love. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with wide-eyed innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks gave me a wondrous gift one Christmas.

Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister’s son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn’t been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant, homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt’s anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the room. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman, who always spent much time with him.

As Christmas drew near however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming, and when the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large gray eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, “Did you really miss me?”

 

I explained how he had been my best helper. “I was making you a surprise,” he whispered confidentially. “It’s for Christmas.” With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room. He didn’t stay after school any more after that.

Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back. “I have your present,” he said timidly when I looked up. “I hope you like it.” He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.

“Its beautiful, Mark. Is there something in it?” I asked opening the top to look inside. ”

“Oh you can’t see what’s in it,” He replied, “and you can’t touch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights, and safe when you’re all alone.”

I gazed into the empty box. “What is it Mark,” I asked gently, “that will make me feel so good?” “It’s love,” he whispered softly, “and mother always said it’s best when you give it away.” And he turned and quietly left the room.

So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them that there is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth and song, for good and wondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.

~ Unknown ~

 https://deeprootsathome.com/christmas-short-stories