I am asking Santa 2013 for a new trowel. Obviously, I take my trowels and throw them in the woods whenever I finish planting anything. Really. I never can find my trowels. I have a nail where I hang them after I finish AND they are never there when I go to plant. Trowels are like tweezers. Someday, when I have passed to the next world, someone will find where all of the tweezers have hidden themselves.
I found a trowel today. It was in my purse. I can't remember why I put it there. I bet I was going to plant something somewhere. A trowel in your purse is not a good sign -- it's a great sign. It shows the world where my priorities are.
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I wish I was physically stronger. One of my Christmas gifts was some gardening help from Dan.....and he's not doing the fun stuff. He is the muscle for my ideas. I think it up, buy the plants, he wields the shovel, I plant....
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The seed catalogs have whet my whistle for the yard. The first order of business is trimming the crepe myrtles. They had a field day last year and need to be shaped. Bill and I like the classic look-- we spent the afternoon on five bushes. We have two more to prune and then we'll move on to the rose bushes.
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Bill's sister , Nancy divided a family heirloom to share with us--I hope the flowering quince from the home place in Wapello takes off. Nan also brought black-eyed Susan seeds and hollyhock seeds for us to plant. I checked out the flowering quince and it is growing! Hurrah.
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One of our neighbors in State Center,Winifred Liston, had the best garden in the world.. Ferns, hens and chicks, a pussy willow bush, roses made her lawn lovely but my favorite plant in her yard was her Jack in the Pulpit. I ordered Jack in the Pulpit seeds from a gardener of exotic plants. Winifred had found her plant growing wild -- I am going to create a starter garden for my seeds. I want my grandchildren to have the joy of seeing Jack getting ready to preach.
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Sometimes I feel like I am just getting nice dinners together for the deer and the armidillos. The squirrels have helped me by gathering the acorns....I have squirrels that look like "butterballs" waddling around the yard. I saw my first red squirrel yesterday. Our squirrels in Iowa are a pretty red-brown. Our squirrels in Macon were a dove gray....but yesterday, I had an "Iowa" squirrel in my yard. One of my friends asked if it was a flying squirrel. No idea! It was walking on all fours when I saw it.
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Planting, weeding seeding, and loving.
Mike's memory garden continues to thrive.
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I am clearing a path to the creek.....the simple goal is a "no-tick" zone. Guinea fowl are an idea that has been percolating in my head...... they eat their weight in ticks. I don't know if I would be able to protect the birds from Raggs. He'd run them slap crazy. They are loud, big, personable, and tick eaters....hmmmmmm, I really don't think I'm ready for another form of livestock to take care of right now. But, I'm thinking about it. I wonder if there's a Rent-a-Guinea program?
Like officious little men in baggy gray suits, the guinea fowl scuttle up and down our driveway. Since dawn, they've been scouring our orchard for beetles, locusts, spiders, and ticks. Now they are ready to patrol our yard and garden for ants, cockroaches, flies, wasps, termites, cutworms, grubs, and snails. The guinea fowl are relentless in their pursuit.
Read more: http://www.motherearthnews.com/sustainable-farming/raising-guinea-fowl-zmaz92aszshe.aspx#ixzz2J5gfyEHc
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Dumb Things I have Done in my Life-- Number Two
1987
Ken Meakins, our babysitter who liked playing swords with Mike, and I were standing in the kitchen discussing plans for supper when the front door flew open and Mike ran in with two strange dogs following him.
The dogs, big dogs, big dogs who were NOT our dogs, started running through the house....and began mating!
The big dogs, who, I REPEAT, were not our dogs, got stuck together. All three of the kids thought this was hilarious. I wasn't laughing.
As the children clamored around Ken and I asking what the dogs were doing while I was screaming at everyone to try and get those strange dogs out of my house. Ken calmly told the kids that the dogs were dancing.
I got on the phone and anonymously called a veterinarian's office and told them about these strange dogs which were now stuck together running through my house. I innocently asked what I could do to get them apart. They looked very uncomfortable, I stated. In fact, they looked like they were in pain.
The vet's receptionist was laughing uncontrollably (she was laughing at me, not with me because I hadn't cracked a smile yet) and told me that they would become unstuck-- eventually.
By the time I got off the phone, the dogs were "unstuck" and Ken had shooed them out the door.
I went and got a cold glass of water for myself. Ken was laughing. I was relieved that those dogs were out of my house.
I looked out the kitchen window and saw a "flock" of dogs (none of them mine) which had now gathered in our front yard. "Looks like everyone wants to dance with that nice brown dog," observed 4 year old Mike.
"Yep," said Ken. "Looks like we've got our own prom."
Ken Meakins, our babysitter who liked playing swords with Mike, and I were standing in the kitchen discussing plans for supper when the front door flew open and Mike ran in with two strange dogs following him.
The dogs, big dogs, big dogs who were NOT our dogs, started running through the house....and began mating!
The big dogs, who, I REPEAT, were not our dogs, got stuck together. All three of the kids thought this was hilarious. I wasn't laughing.
As the children clamored around Ken and I asking what the dogs were doing while I was screaming at everyone to try and get those strange dogs out of my house. Ken calmly told the kids that the dogs were dancing.
I got on the phone and anonymously called a veterinarian's office and told them about these strange dogs which were now stuck together running through my house. I innocently asked what I could do to get them apart. They looked very uncomfortable, I stated. In fact, they looked like they were in pain.
The vet's receptionist was laughing uncontrollably (she was laughing at me, not with me because I hadn't cracked a smile yet) and told me that they would become unstuck-- eventually.
By the time I got off the phone, the dogs were "unstuck" and Ken had shooed them out the door.
I went and got a cold glass of water for myself. Ken was laughing. I was relieved that those dogs were out of my house.
I looked out the kitchen window and saw a "flock" of dogs (none of them mine) which had now gathered in our front yard. "Looks like everyone wants to dance with that nice brown dog," observed 4 year old Mike.
"Yep," said Ken. "Looks like we've got our own prom."
Friday, January 18, 2013
Souper Friend
I am making a big pot of soup on this cold, raw Georgia night. Soup makes the house smell good and it evokes memories of all the women with whom I've discussed soup. Goodness, everyone has a secret ingredient; everyone has a touch to make their soup "Oh, so good"; and everyone has a family soup recipe that they know I'll just love.
Shortly after I married Bill (1974 = many moons ago) I started learning about soup. The first recipe I "learned" was Navy Bean Soup. Sarah Ellen Ritchie, one of the fellow members of my 6th grade teaching team at Milford Township School, was my instructor for this first soup. Ellen grew up in Newnan, GA and she knew things I never even knew I was supposed to think about. I would have just gotten two cans of Campbell's Bean Soup, thrown it in a pot, and called it a night.
Ellen looked over the top of her reading glasses after hearing my "canned cooking plans" late one afternoon and told me that there was no way I was going to make soup like that. Soup, she declared, would solve all the world's problems if made correctly and served with the appropriate sides. HUH? Ellen was old enough to be my mother and young enough to be an buddy-- she opened a world to me that I never knew existed. Bill and I were living in Nevada, Iowa, it was our first winter of being married, and I attended "Ellen's Navy Bean Bootcamp". I made this soup almost every weekend that entire winter until I passed her rigorous approval. I got an A+ in Navy Bean Soup.
*******************************
Ellen's Bean Soup
Cover one package of dry great northern beans with water. Let them soak for at least 24 hours. Rinse the water at least twice. Four hours before you want to eat, start this soup. This isn't a recipe you can throw together when you get home from work.
1. Chop one sweet onion finely.
2. Sauté the onion in one stick of butter (not margarine, not olive oil, not goose geese) until transparent in your cast iron Dutch oven. (You don't have a cast iron Dutch oven? How do you cook? No, it has to be cast iron. Go and get yourself a cast iron Dutch oven, you will have it the rest of your life.)
3. Add ham (Use good ham that you froze from a ham you cooked for your family. Save all the little pieces. Save the bone. Save the meat. You must trim the fat from the bone before you put the bone in the soup. YES, do not let any pieces of fat float in your soup. Mrs. Ritchie will come and get you.) Add as much ham as you can afford. Cut the pieces of ham the size that your family likes.
4. Wash the beans a final time and make sure that any bad beans have been taken out. Cover the beans with water a final time and pour this entire mixture into your cast iron Dutch oven. Beans, onions, and butter.
5. Cook slowly for at least four hours stirring frequently. (Bean soup scorches very easily and the entire batch will taste bad. Low and slow is how you go.) Leave the lid off if you have too much liquid for your taste-- each family has their own criteria for soup-- you must determine this.
6. Remove two cups of soup and mash it with a fork. Add it back to your soup pot. It will thicken the soup without adding any fillers. Discard the bone. MAKE sure there is no fat pieces floating around!
7. Serve with freshly ground pepper and warm cornbread. Don't salt-- the soup will be salty enough from the ham.
This is a soup that can be made on a Sunday afternoon and served for most of the week. It gets better with age.
I have successfully cooked this mixture in the crockpot after step #4. You won't have to worry about it scorching-- just make sure that you look at it when you get home from work to see if you need to take the lid off to make it thicken up. I do feel guilty if I don't use my cast iron Dutch oven!
**********************************
Ellen passed away from cancer late in the summer of 2001. I visited her in Wisconsin durning the early summer of 2001 when she was so sick. Ellen had harassed me through most of my professional career with the mantra that a woman must be able to take care of herself and a woman must get as much education as possible. She asked if I had finished my dissertation and at that point, I told the biggest lie of my life.
The lie: I told her I was done with my dissertation and I would be graduating from THE University of Georgia that December with my Ed. D. She was so happy. The truth: I had rewritten the D#%$ dissertation a million or so times and I was getting ready for my final defense in September 2001. I knew that she wouldn't be alive to hear me say that I was completely done. I did finish, I did my final defense on September 17 (Pat Blascovich's birthday) and I did graduate from UGA that December. I knew that if I didn't finish, Ellen would come and haunt me until I did.
Ellen taught me lots about life. If you do something, do it well. Play bridge, serve great desserts, a warm tomato from the garden is one of the pleasures of life, use the library, buy furniture that is comfortable and make sure ALL your lamps make reading pleasurable. If you have on sandals - make sure your toenails are painted, "Nobody's Fool" is one of the best books ever written, and always make soup that's delicious. If you do anything, do it well!
Shortly after I married Bill (1974 = many moons ago) I started learning about soup. The first recipe I "learned" was Navy Bean Soup. Sarah Ellen Ritchie, one of the fellow members of my 6th grade teaching team at Milford Township School, was my instructor for this first soup. Ellen grew up in Newnan, GA and she knew things I never even knew I was supposed to think about. I would have just gotten two cans of Campbell's Bean Soup, thrown it in a pot, and called it a night.
Ellen looked over the top of her reading glasses after hearing my "canned cooking plans" late one afternoon and told me that there was no way I was going to make soup like that. Soup, she declared, would solve all the world's problems if made correctly and served with the appropriate sides. HUH? Ellen was old enough to be my mother and young enough to be an buddy-- she opened a world to me that I never knew existed. Bill and I were living in Nevada, Iowa, it was our first winter of being married, and I attended "Ellen's Navy Bean Bootcamp". I made this soup almost every weekend that entire winter until I passed her rigorous approval. I got an A+ in Navy Bean Soup.
*******************************
Ellen's Bean Soup
Cover one package of dry great northern beans with water. Let them soak for at least 24 hours. Rinse the water at least twice. Four hours before you want to eat, start this soup. This isn't a recipe you can throw together when you get home from work.
1. Chop one sweet onion finely.
2. Sauté the onion in one stick of butter (not margarine, not olive oil, not goose geese) until transparent in your cast iron Dutch oven. (You don't have a cast iron Dutch oven? How do you cook? No, it has to be cast iron. Go and get yourself a cast iron Dutch oven, you will have it the rest of your life.)
3. Add ham (Use good ham that you froze from a ham you cooked for your family. Save all the little pieces. Save the bone. Save the meat. You must trim the fat from the bone before you put the bone in the soup. YES, do not let any pieces of fat float in your soup. Mrs. Ritchie will come and get you.) Add as much ham as you can afford. Cut the pieces of ham the size that your family likes.
4. Wash the beans a final time and make sure that any bad beans have been taken out. Cover the beans with water a final time and pour this entire mixture into your cast iron Dutch oven. Beans, onions, and butter.
5. Cook slowly for at least four hours stirring frequently. (Bean soup scorches very easily and the entire batch will taste bad. Low and slow is how you go.) Leave the lid off if you have too much liquid for your taste-- each family has their own criteria for soup-- you must determine this.
6. Remove two cups of soup and mash it with a fork. Add it back to your soup pot. It will thicken the soup without adding any fillers. Discard the bone. MAKE sure there is no fat pieces floating around!
7. Serve with freshly ground pepper and warm cornbread. Don't salt-- the soup will be salty enough from the ham.
This is a soup that can be made on a Sunday afternoon and served for most of the week. It gets better with age.
I have successfully cooked this mixture in the crockpot after step #4. You won't have to worry about it scorching-- just make sure that you look at it when you get home from work to see if you need to take the lid off to make it thicken up. I do feel guilty if I don't use my cast iron Dutch oven!
**********************************
Ellen passed away from cancer late in the summer of 2001. I visited her in Wisconsin durning the early summer of 2001 when she was so sick. Ellen had harassed me through most of my professional career with the mantra that a woman must be able to take care of herself and a woman must get as much education as possible. She asked if I had finished my dissertation and at that point, I told the biggest lie of my life.
The lie: I told her I was done with my dissertation and I would be graduating from THE University of Georgia that December with my Ed. D. She was so happy. The truth: I had rewritten the D#%$ dissertation a million or so times and I was getting ready for my final defense in September 2001. I knew that she wouldn't be alive to hear me say that I was completely done. I did finish, I did my final defense on September 17 (Pat Blascovich's birthday) and I did graduate from UGA that December. I knew that if I didn't finish, Ellen would come and haunt me until I did.
Ellen taught me lots about life. If you do something, do it well. Play bridge, serve great desserts, a warm tomato from the garden is one of the pleasures of life, use the library, buy furniture that is comfortable and make sure ALL your lamps make reading pleasurable. If you have on sandals - make sure your toenails are painted, "Nobody's Fool" is one of the best books ever written, and always make soup that's delicious. If you do anything, do it well!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Dumb Things I Have Done-- First in a Series
1. Jumping off a roof onto a trampoline. I was 45 years old at the time. Enough said on that one. My entire family watched me. Their only regret. "We could have won $1,000,000 if we would have had a video of that."
Yes, I meant to do it.
No, I would never do it again.
Yes, I meant to do it.
No, I would never do it again.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Hometown Cookbooks-- Homegrown Memories
I am eating "Mary Wilkening's Banana Bread" tonight. It isn't Weight Watcher approved but it is heart warming and food for the soul. When I get in a funk, I drag out a State Center, Iowa cookbook and make something from home. I know most of the cooks in the books. My State Center cookbooks have traveled the country with me. They are the gems of my kitchen.
Mary's banana bread is great. Mary and Virg Wilkening lived next to St. Joseph's Catholic Church where our families went to church....by going straight down the gravel alley I could get to their house from our house in 30 seconds on my bike. I grew up with Daria, Patty, and Ginny Wilkening as the sisters I didn't have. Deb Liston rounded out the immediate pack of girls. From playing dolls to playing games, there was always something good happening.
We had a bunch of kids in the neighborhood....there were the three Williams kids, the Bryants, the Pollacks, the Seegers, the three Wilkenings, the three Malloys, my cousin, Cindy Malloy, lived two blocks away, and other assorted children. There was always a something going on--kickball, work up softball, rollar skating, bike riding, ice skating, hop scotch, jacks, 7-up (a ball game played on a wall), red rover...you get the idea. It was busy. The town was our big playground. The group of kids was fluid-- it was always changing with the interests of the people involved.
So, maybe it's not the food that I crave, but it's the memories. Growing up in State Center was fun. In the summer, if we wanted a Fudgesicle, we rode around town on our bikes until we found 5 pop bottles. We returned them to the store for refund at .02 each. .02 x 5 bottles = .10 = one Fudgesicle. 10 bottles = 2 Fudgesicles. Yes, we hunted until we had enough bottles so all of us could have a treat! This was real-- like math at it's finest.
Back to the banana bread. This is a great recipe and it will make your home smell like heaven. AND it made me think of all the good times and good friends that were mine during my growing up years.
Banana Bread by Mary Wilkening
3 ripe bananas
2 eggs
3/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. nutmeats, chopped (I use pecans)
2 c. regular flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda
Crush the bananas with a fork; add eggs (beaten light), sugar, flour sifted with the salt and soda. Add nutmeats. Grease a loaf pan with butter. Bake in slow 325 degree oven for 1 hour. Makes one 5" x 9" loaf.
You might as well make two loaves. It will disappear as fast as you cut it. Slather it with butter, cream cheese or Cheese Whiz....it's a meal in itself. Serve it with a cup of fresh coffee and think of your childhood.
Molly gave the fresh bread her approval. She put some cream cheese on her slice. Ten week old Sally isn't into solids yet but she's never far from her mother's side. I know that she'll be eating Mary Wilkening's Banana Bread someday soon in my kitchen.
So, make those memories now....start with some fresh banana bread tonight.
Mary's banana bread is great. Mary and Virg Wilkening lived next to St. Joseph's Catholic Church where our families went to church....by going straight down the gravel alley I could get to their house from our house in 30 seconds on my bike. I grew up with Daria, Patty, and Ginny Wilkening as the sisters I didn't have. Deb Liston rounded out the immediate pack of girls. From playing dolls to playing games, there was always something good happening.
We had a bunch of kids in the neighborhood....there were the three Williams kids, the Bryants, the Pollacks, the Seegers, the three Wilkenings, the three Malloys, my cousin, Cindy Malloy, lived two blocks away, and other assorted children. There was always a something going on--kickball, work up softball, rollar skating, bike riding, ice skating, hop scotch, jacks, 7-up (a ball game played on a wall), red rover...you get the idea. It was busy. The town was our big playground. The group of kids was fluid-- it was always changing with the interests of the people involved.
So, maybe it's not the food that I crave, but it's the memories. Growing up in State Center was fun. In the summer, if we wanted a Fudgesicle, we rode around town on our bikes until we found 5 pop bottles. We returned them to the store for refund at .02 each. .02 x 5 bottles = .10 = one Fudgesicle. 10 bottles = 2 Fudgesicles. Yes, we hunted until we had enough bottles so all of us could have a treat! This was real-- like math at it's finest.
Back to the banana bread. This is a great recipe and it will make your home smell like heaven. AND it made me think of all the good times and good friends that were mine during my growing up years.
Banana Bread by Mary Wilkening
3 ripe bananas
2 eggs
3/4 c. sugar
1/2 c. nutmeats, chopped (I use pecans)
2 c. regular flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda
Crush the bananas with a fork; add eggs (beaten light), sugar, flour sifted with the salt and soda. Add nutmeats. Grease a loaf pan with butter. Bake in slow 325 degree oven for 1 hour. Makes one 5" x 9" loaf.
You might as well make two loaves. It will disappear as fast as you cut it. Slather it with butter, cream cheese or Cheese Whiz....it's a meal in itself. Serve it with a cup of fresh coffee and think of your childhood.
Molly gave the fresh bread her approval. She put some cream cheese on her slice. Ten week old Sally isn't into solids yet but she's never far from her mother's side. I know that she'll be eating Mary Wilkening's Banana Bread someday soon in my kitchen. So, make those memories now....start with some fresh banana bread tonight.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
What's new, Pussycat?
I like pets. I love dogs. But, I have a small problem with cats. I might be a cat hoarder.
Besides the Martha Stewart gene, I have a ooooooh, if one cat is great, "ten cats are ten times as great" gene. This is a recessive gene that none of my family seemed to have until Mary Michael met a cat. Meow.....the gene continues.
Currently, Bill and I have three cats.
1. Mike's cat Jack: Jack is the daughter of Sally and Spencer, feral cats that I thought I could tame. She is vying for the title of meanest cat in the universe. We've had her for 14 years. She scares me. About five years ago, I rescued her one night from a thunderstorm and she thanked me by assuming the position of a living coon skin cap on my head and biting the top of my scalp with her sharp little teeth and her claws simultaneously digging into my ears. Jack is angry that she doesn't have her boy. We cut her some slack because we feel the same way. She loved Mike. I do think, she has some socialization issues.
Interesting sidebar: Spencer had a "plumbing problem" and he had a sex change operation at THE University of Georgia. Don't ask...it's another crazy story for another crazy day.
2. Norman: Norman was part of the negotiations of the seller in the acquisition of this house. He's got a head like a cat head biscuit. He doesn't "meow".....he "meows" in a soft little voice. Sweet big yellow kitty....a keeper!
3. Mr. Biggles: Bigs is a black and white cat that looks like he is wearing a tuxedo. He'd really like to move in the house and become gentrified. Mr. Biggles came with the house. We think that he an Norman are brothers. He is charming and smart. He swings in the hammock with me and he purrs. He loves people. He could have been named Mr. Purrsonality.
Yes, Mr. Biggles attended Carol and Clay's wedding. He even bowed his head during the prayer.
Cats have been a part of my life from the get go. My first kitty was a little yellow cat named Penny. She was petite, sweet, and dainty. I could dress her up in doll clothes and she liked riding in the doll buggy. I was five years old and I've been hanging out with cats from that day forward.
Zane Gray was a member of our family for 17 years. Zane was great with the kids when they were growing up. Zane was low maintenance and he was a great chipmunk hunter--he also brought a live bunny in the house one time. Bill has a very dry sense of humor. "Erin, did you know we have a live bunny hopping around the living room?". (Note: during graduate school I would not have won any "cleanliness is next to Godliness" awards). "No, Bill. I didn't know that." "Well, we do. " At Zane's funeral, we whistled "How Great Thou Art."
A cat sees me and he sees "sucker" written across my forehead. I love Maine Coon Cats.....a rag dog kitten gives me the willies....a calico cat is made to love-- I enjoy cats. I think my family is scarred that I'll take my love of animals to the extreme.
Carol Keys Gledhill gave me a book with patterns so I can knit all the cats I want. Molly and Dan have encouraged me to start knitting. Carol told me I could have all the knit kittens I wanted. Molly and Dan have told me this is a great idea. I have heard those three muttering between each other that I have tendencies to turn into the "crazy cat lady".
Mary Michael and I meow greetings to each other. One of our favorite games is Nana Kitty, Momma Kitty, and Baby Kitty. I have taken an oath NOT to get Mary Michael a cat.
Molly's post from Facebook last night:
Mary Michael has been pretending she's a cat for about two weeks now. Combined with her new found love of The Little Mermaid, tonight's rendition of "Under the Sea" was performed during dinner using only the word, "meow" for every lyric.
That's my girl!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Red Sky
Red sky in the morning,
Sailors take warning.
Red sky at night,
Sailors delight.
I've said time and time again, I love looking at the sky. Tonight, as the sun set, the sky was speckled pink and blue.
Sailors take warning.
Red sky at night,
Sailors delight.
I've said time and time again, I love looking at the sky. Tonight, as the sun set, the sky was speckled pink and blue.
There's one sailor I think of whenever I say that poem-- Trey Topping. And I say that poem each morning and each night. I wonder if the sky was red the morning he was lost at sea?
I never met Trey, but his mother and I had talked extensively of our families....so I knew his spirit of adventure and his love of the outdoors. I love his momma, Diana Rodgers, and I hope she gets comfort from the flying colors in the Georgia sky tonight.
As the captain of the ship, Flying Colours, it would seem that the sky would have been a magical combination of pinks and reds on that May morning when he and three others were lost in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of North Carolina. Or was it dark and stormy-- the perfect storm with a rogue wave that no person could combat?
Flying Colours soared across the sky tonight. As did memories of a son lost too soon.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Martha Stewart-- Nah, More Lucille Ball
National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation is brilliant. It contains a glimpse of every family I have ever known. Clark has a Norman Rockwell picture of a true Christmas in his mind. Cousin Eddie shows up and proves to us all that blood is thicker than water. And Snots is, well, Snots.
I have a genetic flaw that makes me want to have a Martha Stewartish type of holiday. I want my house clean, with Christmas music playing softly in the background, the garbage cans are empty, the dog hair is not carpeting the floor, I am wearing matching clothes. Thank goodness, I am always slapped back to reality by having something crazy happen.
This year was no different. I was sweating like a pig and serving food like a short order cook at the Waffle House. I had the table set with my china, the food was finished, our friends were on the way....magic was happening.
Bill came into the kitchen and said, "I like your centerpiece." I said, "Thanks." He innocently asked, "Have you seen it?" I turned and looked.....the cat was smack dab in the middle of the table cleaning her butt. Dang!
Do you know why people serve wine with a dinner? The cook wants to get shitfaced.
I am not a Martha Stewart. I am more of a Lucille Ball.
This year was no different. I was sweating like a pig and serving food like a short order cook at the Waffle House. I had the table set with my china, the food was finished, our friends were on the way....magic was happening.
Bill came into the kitchen and said, "I like your centerpiece." I said, "Thanks." He innocently asked, "Have you seen it?" I turned and looked.....the cat was smack dab in the middle of the table cleaning her butt. Dang!
Do you know why people serve wine with a dinner? The cook wants to get shitfaced.
I am not a Martha Stewart. I am more of a Lucille Ball.
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