Today was the coolest August day I can remember in my whole life which is pretty vast. I spent the day on my back porch with my doors open and AC OFF. My depression melted into the crisp summer sun – yes, crisp and summer have never gone together in my Mississippi. Today it did.
That, and Ugg, made this day spectacular. A small kitten was sitting on my side stoop when I went out to pick up the paper this morning. She streaked away like lightening. Two hours later (when I was dressed and got made up) she had ventured up on the porch. I guess I looked like an acceptable parent with makeup. Continue reading
This week, I had the joy of attending a family reunion deep in the wildwoods of Tippah County, Mississippi which has long reminded me of Snuffy Smith Country with all the hills and hollows. Not only did I get a taste of the best Southern cooking this side of the Mason Dixon, I picked up a few colloquialisms which I plan to incorporate into my vocabulary. It would be a shame to lose these priceless relics of our distant past.
My most favorite is the term “ring-tailed tooter” which rolled off the lips of my friend Norma while describing a
What was I saying?
Oh yeah, I’ve been on vacation this week and that’s why an earlier post was actually written last week when I was all pumped up about trying to get healthy.
Then on a whim I decided to take a vacation and do SQUAT. Squat just barely exceeds scant and it’s not much. In fact, in my world it’s NOTHING. That’s not me at the left – her robe has no tomato soup stains.
With the arrival of August, I renewed my commitment to exercise after an “extended vacation.” The vacation was no fun because I was stabbed by guilt every time I saw someone walk or run by my house.
Why couldn’t that be me, I wondered? Because you lump, you’ve been glued to three seasons of House of Cards which came with your Netflix service. Of course, the series demanded a steady supply of microwave popcorn so I wouldn’t have to miss a single moment.
I wish you could be in my kitchen about now. It smells like I’m cooking something wonderful and I am, sort of. Farmer Sam, my produce supplier, is still bringing me onions every week. Since I only use about one tablespoon a day on my salad, it was time to have a major onion – cookin’. I put on my onion cooking outfit (my pjs) and got it going.
First, of course, I googled onion recipes and came up with one I consider brilliant. You carmalize them in your crotch pot. (We call it the crotch pot because that’s what my friend Kate calls it).