The art of the picnic.

Plan a romantic al fresco picnic for two, an intimate group of friends or the entire family. 

Picnics are special, affordable and a fun way to show you care.   They build wonderful memories. 

Create simple snacks, lunch, hors d’oeuvres or light dinners.  

The initial investment for the staples (picnic basket, blanket & accessories) can range from the very affordable to extravagant.  However, once you have the staples, your costs will be mainly for the food and drinks. 

Rule #1:  MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A BREEZE.  

Don’t over pack!  Remember it’s the quality of the time spent together, enhanced by elegant simplicity.  It is not the quantity of things you schlep.   

Location:  If you know of a great picnic spot, stick with it.   A new location can bring unwanted surprises, so if you’re selecting a new location, make sure to take a dry run.  

Your picnic area should be reasonably close to your auto.  Expect that you’ll need to return for one thing or another.

Check List: 

• Picnic blanket

• Picnic basket with accessories.   There are many lovely disposable accessories, including plates, cutlery, water glasses, wine glasses, napkins (make sure to pack plenty).   Try them, you’ll like them!    You don’t want to schlep unnecessary items back to wash at home.  You’ll want to relax after a lovely picnic.

• Small cooler (optional).

• CD (not too loud if there are others close by!)

• Food

• Drink 

• Candles for evening rendezvous!

Back up:  Check the weather conditions ahead of time.   In areas where the weather is unpredictable, have a back up location.   Indoor spots can be every bit as wonderful.

Picnics are supposed to be fun.  Once you master the romantic art of the picnic, you’ll be hooked!

Leave your worries behind and make beautiful memories. 

Check out Mrs. Figgins picnic food & drink ideas!

Mrs. Figgins Favorite Spots!

Coming Soon!

Mrs. Figgins shares her favorite spots around the world from the affordable  to the extraordinary.

You won’t want to miss this! 

 

 

 

Accept? Decline?

Accepting (or Declining) Social Invitations:

• Be timely when responding to an invitation.  A good rule is to respond within 4-5 days.
• Dress according to the dress suggestions on the invitation.  If you’re not certain, don’t be shy to ask.
• Be punctual. Any more than 15 minutes is considered rude.   Don’t show up before the requested time of arrival.
• If the invitation does not specify that you may bring a guest, always check with you’re your host first. 
• It is most gracious to take along a hostess gift.  Chocolates, Wine or Champagne is most appropriate and appreciated.  For extra special occasions a personalized gift is a sure hit and will always be remembered.  See Mrs. Figgins list of favorite finds! 

Not a creature was stirring – not even a mouse!

Throughout this week Mrs. Figgins will share a few of the most loved poems and stories of the Christmas season.   

Next installment shown below.

From our family to yours,

Merry Christmas and Wishes for a Blessed New Year!

Mrs. Figgins & Family

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863) wrote the poem “Twas the night before Christmas” (also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas” in 1822.   

Mr. Moore came from a prominent family and his father Benjamin Moore was the Bishop of New York who was famous for officiating at the inauguration of George Washington.

It has long become the tradition in many American families to read the poem every Christmas Eve – and has redefined the image of Christmas and even Santa Claus.

Before the creation of the story of “Twas the night before Christmas”, St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers!

The author of the poem “Twas the night before Christmas” was a reticent man and it is believed that a family friend, Miss H. Butler, sent a copy of the poem to the New York Sentinel who published the poem.

The condition of publication was that the author of “Twas the night before Christmas” was to remain anonymous.

The first publication date was 23rd December 1823 and it was an immediate success.

It was not until 1844 that Clement Clarke Moore claimed ownership when the work was included in a book of his poetry.

‘Twas the night before Christmas

by Clement Clarke Moore

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

www.askdrromance.com     Free Relationship Advice  

Throughout this week Mrs. Figgins will be sharing a few of the most loved poems and stories of the Christmas season.   

The first installment shown below.

From our family to yours,

Merry Christmas and Wishes for a Blessed New Year!

Mrs. Figgins & Family

Eight-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the editor of New York’s Sun, and the quick response was printed as an unsigned editorial Sept. 21, 1897. The work of veteran newsman Francis Pharcellus Church has since become history’s most reprinted newspaper editorial, appearing in part or whole in dozens of languages in books, movies, and other editorials, and on posters and stamps.

Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
The New York Sun – 1897

We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:  

“DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it in THE SUN it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?”VIRGINIA O’HANLON.
“115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET.”

 

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood. 

"Believe!"

 

The Home Ranch

The Home Ranch

Located near Steamboat Springs, Colorado, The Home Ranch is bordered by one million acres of the Routt National Forest.

In the shadows of the majestic Rocky Mountains, few Ranches offer the service or comfort Colorado’s Home Ranch.

Home to some of the world’s best skiing in winter, the beautiful summers offer hiking, brown trout fishing along two private miles of river.

The ladies will enjoy the comforts and the men can feel like John Wayne.   Laidback and comfortable, weekend cowboys can ride 365 days a year.

For those of you with children, the ranch is the ultimate playground for the entire family.  Kids are welcome, and the summer program is of wonderful activities with counselors, who are active participants in all the activities, are available from morning until evening.

You’ll have a truly memorable time!

A Mrs. Figgins Favorite!

 

 

Simply Wonderful!