Garden Week or the Agony and the Ecstasy of No Longer Being Trophy Wife Material

After the "Danice" incident, the Two-Bit Teenas were born. It is an amazing group of women and whenever they are together it is a memorable event. These days, life seems more complicated so it is harder to get them all in one room but whenever it happens something hilarious will result. One of our more memorable adventures was a trip to the Eastern Shore for the Garden Week tour. Needless to say we visited many a gorgeous home....of course....each with a Teena Twist. Sometime during that day it was decided that each Teena would write a summary of events. This is mine….

Friday evening, April 27, 2007
7:50 pm TeenaMobile speeds through toll booth. Bay-Bridge police alerted.
8:15 pm Teenas arrive at StingRays. Wait staff encourages us to drink.

Saturday, April 28, 2007
7:30 am During the night, the Two Bit Teenas had turned into the CRIPS
New gang motto “My way or the Ho way.”

8:30 am Breakfast of ‘taters and timber baloney.
9:15 am VeraLee puts on those old “cheapo” pants.
9:16 am Lurlene takes nap. Already too drunk to drive.
9:45 am Leave Cape Charles in Teena Mobile. Not arrested.
10:00 am Arrive at Eyre Hall.
10:15 am Bee learns that a “dependency” does not necessarily involve incontinence. A game of “I spy a dependency” begins.

10:45 am Arrive at Oak Hall in Eastville.
11:00 am Learn that an Oak is a tree.
11:15 am See a pod of deer. Call Butch.
11:30 am Take Holly to the home of a rich man with a big boat.
11:45 am We are crushed to learn that we are no longer qualified to be “trophy wives”.
11:46 am Decide we need mass quantities of alcohol.
11:55 am See a bi-plane with no apparent means of propulsion.
12:00 noon Bee consults with wocket scientists on Wallops Island
(home of the rare wed-winged wack wird).
Learns a new energy source…an engine….has been discovered.

12:15 pm Turned away from Eastville Inn. Something about a sympathetic addition.
12:16 pm Shop
1:00 pm Stop to bless Minister Horses….in the name of the father, son and the holy colt.
1:01 pm Horses reply,“Neigh thou you walk with a limp and a crick, a rod and a staff shall comfort you.”

1:02 pm Lushious requests cotton candy in Onancock or as she pronounces it "On-a-cock".
1:10 pm Arrive at yet another jewel encrusted historic home.
1:15 pm Bee charms senior gentlemen. They escort her to a reserved parking space.
1:20 pm Walk down shell driveway. Bee marvels at the way the crushed shells bring out the smell of the ocean.

1:22 pm Lushious assures frightened onlookers that this is just a supervised outing. Her report will reflect the need for more medication.

2:00 pm Sit down to lunch on a porch overlooking a mud flat.
2:05 pm Bottle of wine empty.
2:30 pm Lushious breaks restaurant bathroom.
3:00 pm Arrive at Wachapreague or as Lushious pronounces it "Watch-a-prick".
3:30 pm Arrive at Blue Crow
3:45 pm Holly breaks bathroom.
4:30 pm Return to Cape Charles.
4:31 pm Collapse.


Future Teena Tours:
Lushious would like to visit Onley/On-a-cock in Hack-a-Mac near Ass-a-woman. With a stop at Dave’s Pet Peeves.
Better Hard-n-up.

“I pity d’fool that tours with the Teenas.”

Daince?

You know I don't need words..."yo hair smells gooood," says it all.
I happened to have my sketch pad on hand and worked this little ditty out while Coral Lee was wigglin her way out of the "hold."

Two Bit Teena and the Wild Clematis

As 2009 draws to a close, I thought it was time for a bit of reflection. Long, long ago there was no Lurlene and Vera Lee....there was only Jayne and Coralee. They were two friends who loved an adventure....although Jayne was always more game for a throw down.

So...with that in mind....here is the tale of how one story began....on a day in June, long ago....two friends in a Volvo 240 heading down the road to Cape Charles.


Two Bit Teena and the Wild Clematis

Chapter One: Hand brake. Heart break.
Her husband tried to keep her at home in a most ingenious manner. But luckily Jayne was known for her strong right arm. It was rumored that she could snap a man’s neck with her thighs….and off they went

Chapter Two: Jumbo, would you like fires with that?
Sign of the cross…Coralee crossed herself while on the clover leaf as the wicked Walmart was on the right….all in the pursuit of BBQ. It’s okay if you don’t go back the same way you came.

Chapter Three: Coming Home to Jesus
My keys won’t work, my cart won’t start. How the hell did I leave this house without Cooks in the frig? For God sake put Jesus in the icebox.
Thank goodness Jayne never leaves without the Captain by her side. Just put an ice cube in Jesus and let’s head to the beach.
My God….don’t you have a pilsner?

Chapter Four: Five Dollar Steak Night with Two Bit Tina and the Ageing Elvis
Two bit and her Back up Boys, Elvis-Orbison, had a hot set that featured all their favorites. There was Stevie, Dave, that girl Shayna (an Indian name you know) but what got us to our feet was the unheard of possibility of sitting out the last dance. So when Coralee turned to Jayne and said “Let’s do it”….up they popped like corks from a bottle of Cooks and shook with the locals while mosquitoes buzzed above and the smell of the fry baby wafted over head.

Chapter Five: Danz….Danse…Let’s Daince or Does My Ass Look Big or Is There a Picnic Table Stuck Up My Butt?
They must have given off the sweet scent of ladies on the lose cause Bubba and Tavi moved in with the old divide and conquer. The second set hadn’t started but the box was loaded with slow grinders…locals paired up and danced cheek to cheek. Soon Bubba asked Jayne…the age old question. “Daince?” “Okay,” she said without a second glance at Coralee. Soon Coralee found herself in the arms of Tavi Man who said “Yo hair smell good.” Yes indeed her hair smelled of fresh fried potatoes.
Coralee found herself without words, without breath and without memory—she felt the picnic table pull ever so tighter and she wondered if the song would ever end.

Chapter Six: Let’s Go, Let’s Go NOW!

Weasel Time

I used to read animal cards and signs in the bare bones of winter trees, but lately, I’ve jus taken to readin martini swirls. Got to get back to nature I think.

But anyway, its weasel season…and Vera Lee who took to callin me the white-haired weasel did me a fine turn. Let me tell you about weasels. Well, one little known fact is that Weasels have glands that produce a strong smell and some people claim that their musk is stronger than the skunk's. Giv'n tonight and my attack of Southern wind, I would say that is indeed a truism. I remember my silver lame shoes…they were a joy to have on my feet, but Lord did they stink. And you know, the funny thing was, I could put my feet right up on the table and not even know it until people started pullin back. Sonny was the best at it...God Ormond, put your pointy-toed silver shoes back on your stinky dawgs! (I miss that man)

But anyone who knows me will tell you, I have always said, “You cann’t smell what you live with” and that’s a true Weasel inner fact. Most of us are blind to our own short’cummins but quick to see’um in others. It’s a shame, I got to take more time to, (quote the poet, Michael Jackson) "look at the weasel in the mirror!" But be that as it may, there is some good Weasel medicine and I am not gonna deny that while I may not be a flawless weasel, I’m a good scout…cause I can smell a rat. The silent and graceful weasel (I can be graceful…and silent…especially when I am sneekin) imparts the ability go unseen and unheard into places to be able to observe what is happening, then discern what’s important. You see, lots of folks jus bombard you with Blah…Blah…Blah…and wear you down before they say one thing of relevance, but bein a weasel, I can always pick up on what is not said. Like I told a friend of mine one time…look for what’s missin from that story and you’ll come closer to the truth.

But bare with me for jus a few more Weasel facts, cause Weasel symbolizes quick movement, justice achieved, retribution, stealth, warrior energy, fierceness, curiosity, discernment, tenacity and cunning. She gives people the ability to use one’s intuition to see the intent behind words and acts and not to underestimate others. I’m not sayin Weasel doesn’t trust, she does…she just roots around a little more.

Don’t ask me what got me started on this, I think I just wanted to post my favorite weasel picture. So bein a drama queen, I wrote all of this to say, hey, Winter is here, time to go inward...its Weasel Time. May the seeds you sew this season bring blessings in the next.

Donkey Chow

If there is one thing a Teena knows about it's the power and love of donkey. Now, donkey goes way back and has a rich history, just check out the internet and you will learn a thing or two about donkey. But what you won't learn is that to be Donkey to a Teena is a powerful gesture of love and support. Jus ask VeraLee who has been Donkey to me for Lord knows how long. Bottom line is, Donkey is a friend who carries you...she carries your troubles like her own, she shares the load and then some. Donkey is also stubborn and sometimes will not take "No" for an answer...oh...whe will nag, but long with that nagg'n comes love and loyalty and she will often support you against her better judgement. That's the spirit of Donkey. But I gotta add, you can also dump on her, like when you don't want to carry your camera or wallet...and she has a big ole pockabook.

But anyway, this all started because I found this recipe for Donkey Chow that I wanted to share, and if you have a donkey I know they would just love it.

Donkey Chow
1 bushel carrots, chopped
1 bushel apples, chopped
6 pounds mixed nuts
1 bushel basket of organic granola
3 pounds raisins
1 pound lemongrass
1 pound sugar cubes (donkeys have a sweet tooth)
Mix all together and serve in several sturdy but festive wheel-barrows. (That's my favorite part...festive wheel-barrows...can't you jus see'um)

But be that as it may...if your donkey is a drinkin donkey, like most Teena Donkeys are, then just pop a cork and poor into a tall thin glass, or...what VeraLee and I learned, was you can use a pilsner, its kinda like a super-sized champagne flute anyway if you think about it...and that will split a bottle right in two and you don't have to get up off the sofa except if you want more taquitoes.

Honest, in this season of great potential for love and caring, remember to be more like donkey...and less like Ass!

More donkey lore to come.

Last Piece

I ate ten cookies yesterday...but I left a slice of pie.
A girl must prioritize you know, it's the eat'n season and that's got me worried.

Staying Connected

There is an almighty awareness

One almighty awareness

A thinking, compassionate awareness, of which we are all a part

Infinitely kind
All-knowing
All-loving
Distant as the furthest mote of dust in space, yet as near as the beating of your heart
Here and there, before and after, always and forever

And whensoever you should call unto it, it answers you by name
Be still in this season
Listen

(This is from the Universe)

photograph is from www.boxedlight.com
Go there and be surprised.

Golden Wheat - Remains of the Day

When my grandparents were alive, Thanksgiving was always at their house. Grandma would cook and set the table with her best china, “Golden Wheat”. It came in Doz detergent and was, by design, really only appropriate for Thanksgiving, so I figured that’s why Thanksgiving was always at their house and why Grandma always bought Doz even though she liked Tide better.

I thought Grandma was the best cook in the world and I loved bein' in her kitchen. I went to her house early on Thanksgiving to "help". Every eye on the stove had a pot or pan on it and each one offered up its own little vapor, just a hint of what was inside. The pressure cooker hissed and whistled, the beans sputtered to warn us that the water was almost gone and the timer ticked out each minute until the turkey came out or the rolls were ready for the second risin. It was like a little kitchen symphony in “B-fat.”

Grandma cooked the turkey in a brown paper bag at 225 all night. The dark meat was always sweet and juicy but the white meat was almost always dry. But it didn’t really matter though cause the gravy took care of that. Grandma made her gravy usin neck bones and gizzards and what ever else didn’t look pretty. It rolled to a boil and thickened when she stirred in a steady stream of flour paste. Just like magic, I can't live without turkey gravy cause gravy can fix “a world of dry”.

She cooked the ham early and and put on the back porch cause ham didn’t spoil like a bird would. The ham was a true work of art; she poured a bottle of Coca Cola on her ham; only Coke, never Pepsi or Royal Crown cause of the sugar. The sugar made the ham turn brown and crispy and blistered the fat so it looked raw amber. She'd cut it so it separated into little diamonds, each studded with a whole clove, God it was a sight. I can still remember throwin up ham fat cause I ate it off everybody’s plate, I had a hard time wastin fat when I was little and truth be known, still do.

But anyway, dressin was made out of day old corn bread and came from the bird, not the box. There were always apple rings, watermelon rind pickle and spiced peaches in the only “cut glass” dish Grandma had. I had to put the pickle on top of my greens, cause they were a challenge to get down, Lord I did learn how to hide those bitter greens; put’um next to sweet potato casserole and top with that “hurt your teeth sweet” pickle, you “could fool the blind".

Momma hated fat peas, so she always volunteered to bring the little peas. I thought they were special because of the French name…LeSewer. She always bought two cans casue she didn't like to look stingy. My aunt Mae Lee would “unmold” the cranberry jelly, by openin' both ends of the can so it would just slide out nice. (A trick she was very proud of) It was all there, the perfect Southern Thanksgiving table; sweet tea, sweet taters with marshmellows, macaroni and cheese, pumpkin pie and poundcake. Grandma worked hard and I believe really enjoyed havin the family over. Momma and Daddy didn’t get there usually until the last minute cause there was always a little tension between Grandma and Momma, so she stayed out of the kitchen if you know what I mean.

My Daddy’s brother would roll in from Richmond with his wife (from up North) and their six kids and all hell would break loose. The quite that was always mine at Grandma’s house was sucked up by the “others.” Lord have mercy, there was even a baby! At least they all had to sit at the "children's table".

To my Grandma’s credit, she never made me sit at the “children’s table”. She kept me close when the “other’s" arrived and gave me big girl chores in the kitchen to save me from having to actually play with them. Don't know why, but I never liked playin' with my cousins, I was usually glad when they piled back into their station wagon and drove off leaving nothing but crumbs and blessed peace. Even when Momma and Daddy left I stayed, and while Grand-daddy watched the game, Grandma and I washed and dried the “Golden Wheat,” and stacked it in the china press for the next time.

Time Flies - Happy Birthday Mr. Jude

Another birthday in the Friendly Village...and I have been so self absorbed that I haven't even taken the time post. Yesterday we drove out to Linden Wood Farm to celebrate Mr. Jude's passing a speed limit birthday. He smoked a pork butt that would make you "wanna smack yo Momma" ( I do not know where that sayin came from, but I say it all the time) and threw in some ribs for good measure. LaNeese,not to be mistaken with LaNephew, cooked a squash casserole and Bubba boiled shurmps; there were taters roasted in a cast iron pot the size of a bushel basket and then bein Nurse was here visitin MiMi, she spiked the green beans with "the ingredient",long side were pickled beets and a fresh baked Sally Lunn that doubled as a center piece. Oh, and coleslaw,not the crunchy bright green kind from Hymie and Stime's BBQ, but the kind that turns kinda yeller cause of the carrots and has some sugah in it. Now here is where it is fittin to say "It's all good" and if I hadn't been pinned to my seat due to the number of folks around the table, I would have had two helpins and Popped...right there against the wall, I wouldn't have even made it to the floor.

Before slicing Apple Pound Cake, (sans the Apple Jack brandy wash, cause nurse don't take to no "bean dush" even on cake) we pushed back from the table and went into the livin room to open presents. You know you are in the South when you get peanuts salted in the shell and a Smithfield ham for your birthday! He also got a gift certificate from Trash and Class, he favorite "junkin joint" next to "Junkin for Jesus" on the Southside. He got some oil paint'ns too that VeraLee and MiMi had seen him touch while in the General store. It was a good night....Mr. Jude is not a man who wants folks to make a fuss over him...but he just generates the kind of spirit that you want to fuss over. Its a kindness that lives deep in his heart. He's like a beautiful well of still water that I could drink from any day of the week. I love me some Mr. Jude! We all do!

P.S. Speakin of still water, LaNeese wants to get the sunken "love tub" out of her trailor and we thought about turnin it into a hot tub up in Buckinham...but that's for another story.

Happy Birthday Mr. Jude we love you!

Of coarse they're natural bone, I got them from the devil himself

 

Happy Halloween everyone, moons nearly full and remember; life's too short to wear cheap beads.

Bliss Under Glass

Monday I got a surprise package in the mail. It was a scrunchy little brown box about 4 inches by 4 inches, squished on the corners like it was made from a bigger box. I love it…it took time to craft and I appreciate that. I spent a long time with it before I before takin the next step. It must have had nine different stamps…and I studied the outside just wonder’n what in the world would be comm’in to me like that. I didn’t recognize the post mark or the print, but it was rounded and small…so I thought for sure it was from a chubby short lady with a sense of adventure (cause of all the stamps)
Given I’m not paranoid…I finally stopped toying with it and cut the tape that held the corners together. It didn’t take a minute to recognize the headlines of my hometown newspaper wrapped around and poked in the sides of the box. Under that, the single layer of bubble wrap distorted a second set of round letters that I recognized in a minute as Blackberry Jam – Summer 2009.
Well, my heart did a flip-flop and I started salivat’n right there at the kitchen counter. Fresh blackberry jam..pure gold. Lord, the hours that go into that. A gift from the Gods…conjured up by a little round lady that used to live next-door to my Momma and remembered it was my birthday. Her note was short…”she knew I had a lot on my plate…and she hoped this would make it all taste better. X’s and O’s and a smiley face. Now that's a gift!

I know I often go on and on about watermelons…and I do love’um…the queen of the summer fruits, are made for shar’in and I love to share…but I’ve got a secret side…and it’s a little greedy. It comes out long about July when I see the tiny white blossoms I’ve been watchin’ since June give way to red; and long about the end of July, turn deep and sweet indigo, the color of temptation.

I say temptation cause they grow in places that usually have a “no trespassin” sign not too far away; they're usually across the road, on hills and hard to get to places. Places that are protected by a host of natures border guards; chiggers and poison ivy, thorns and knats. Even though I know I’m gonna get eaten, bitten and stabbed I go…cause they don’t last long.

So after I fight off the bees and swat at the mockin’ birds who treat me like the thief that I am, I eat’um right there, washed by the rain or coated in summer pollen, doesn’t matter, Kiss’um up to God and thank Miss Universe cause on New Year’s day I always share…it’s Deep Dish Love at our house…as traditional as black-eyed peas and greens. It’s my offerin’ for the gift for another year and another summer.

Soul Sellin' Part II

I hate clothes....I hate shopping for them, buying them, trying them on, changing them, ironing them...... Of all the Two-Bit Teenas....I am an anomaly. Lurlene can tell you the clothes she was wearing the day she met you. OraLee knows her fashions inside out. MerriLee, well she has an outfit for every holiday in the year....need some jewelry for Groundhog Day?? Dollars to doughnuts MerriLee has some. Each of the Teenas plans in advance for every event. They look for just the right color and design. Me...I start thinking about it five minutes before I am supposed to leave the house...and then wonder why I can't find anything appropriate to wear. I wish that someone would just come to my house, pull everything out of the closet, and then attach those Grr-animals tags so that I would know what to wear with what.

Once the Teenas all went on a cruise around some Greek Islands. On the night of the Captains Dinner, all the other Teenas had, of course, packed a special outfit. Not me...I figured black pants and a white cotton shirt with my dirty old sandals would take me anywhere. I was bunking with Lurlene who, after getting the strange lady out of the bathroom, was appalled at my outfit. She opened up her suitcase pulled out a dress and made me wear it to dinner. Pretty scary stuff.

Me and Lurlene goes a ways back and usually she puts up with me....but when she was getting married she was determined that I was going to dress appropriately. She even bought me a dress....it was flirty and cute and looked nothing like me. I went shopping and kept bringing home dresses which she promptly said made me look like an old maid. Finally she gave up and let me wear one of them....old maid and all. Lurlene is like that....she figured she rather have me calm down than keep winding me up. So....when you see the pictures, the other Teenas are bright and sparkly and I am the one in black.

At the wedding, each guest was given a small token as they left....a delicious treat made by MerriLee, a charm, and a fortune. My fortune read "Beware of all events requiring new clothes." My point exactly.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest-house
Every morning a new arrival
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house,
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyone.

Say I Am You: Poetry Interspersed with Stories of Rumi and Shams,
Translated by John Moyne and Coleman Barks, Maypop, 1994

Settin the Table

I got a new set of dishes the other day when Vera Lee and I were out "Junkin for Jeasus". It was a hard call because I must have at least twenty sets of dishes. I say dishes because they are not all created equal. Some are indeed fine China; like Momma’s wedding china, she said she gave it to me because she always hated it, I mean what does that say about the woman who parts with nothing…but this china. But be that as it may…
I got my first set of dishes when I was a teenager. Liberty Blue was “A Piece a Week” with every $10.00 purchase from the A&P. Now, I didn’t buy groceries, but my momma and my grandmomma, and my boyfriends momma and aunt Mae Lee would buy them for me and save them up for my birthday or Christmas and then spring’um on me in a “place settin” I have 10 place settins and kept them in my hope chest. But I stopped hop’n and gave them to my cousin…and then twenty years later had to buy’um back cause I was feel'n nostalgic.

I fell in love with another set I saw while pass'n time in Miller & Roads on my lunch hour. They were pricy…for back in the day…but I managed to pick up pieces and drop enough hints that I ended up with enough to host about eight folk…and, (this is big) serve stuff on actual match'n platters and servin bowls…not from pans on the stove. I didn’t give those away, I jes keep’um in the “mahogany china press-radiator cover that Buck built for me as a surprise. (They’ve got a gold rim and I’m too lazy to wash’um by hand)

Not to be forgotten are the sets Wilton Armetale (stolen from Steak and Ale by an ole room-mate cause they only paid her minimum wage after a year) that my friends still think are gonna poison them even though I tell them that it is made up of 17 safe base metals none of which will deposit led in their systems…now the food I serve is often more lethal than my Armetale! (I mean the cholesterol alone will take you out before the lead)

Let me tell you…every set of china tells a story in my house….if my plates could talk! I love to set the table. I do; nothing makes me happier than to see all those dishes laid out…just expectin folks to pull up a chair and share a feast…be it store bought fried chicken or New Years pork roast…the table for me is the center of the universe. ..a personal alter if you will from which all great joys will be shared. I may have fixed some bad food in my day, but I hope and pray that those around my table have never had a bad meal.

Now Vera Lee…tell’um about the Friendly Village
(PS, this table is actually at Dennis and Jude's Farm...I don't seem to have a picture of my table...hummm....there are lots of the kitchen though!)

Strike a Pose

Nobody poses like MeMe. She was just in Germany, France, Switzerland, and earlier in Egypt and Japan. MeMe gets herself around. She said she was "workin" but those new Coach Bags and "Spingolly" sunglasses tell me she was probably doin some flirtn' too. But be that as it may, VeraLee and I decided that we were gonna ask her for a "Posin" Lesson,(No, not Poison...although there are rumors about her and some very sick "Ex's").
We visited MeMe's Facebook page and it reads like a travelog...but best of all, every picture of her is just perfect. She does a Teena proud. She's laughin' and talkin' and shopin'and well, you can just tell, where ever she is there is lots of fun to be had. MeMe's like that! She learned a long time ago that a Happy Face hides...well....A Happy Face is what it takes to make the world a better place. She's our blond! So if you're readin MeMe...could you put us on your calendar? xxo, VL and TL.

Vera Lee Inpires Me

About Face

I was lookin’ at some new pictures the other day. Not good. I’ve crossed the line.
These were summer pictures and to be honest…this has been a hard season. Oh I still grin and pose, but I’m startin’ to wear a little of what I’ve been goin’ through on my face.

Its not “put up wet” wear…but you can see it in the eyes, they’re tired…not like that “lazy-eyed” tired you see in school pictures and on your driver’s license. This is more like “double-shift tired.”

At first I thought it was just that one batch, but it’s in all of them. Damn, I’m gonna have to practice a new pose in the mirror because the Teena’s love to take pictures. Oh, and I’m vain. I usually hide pictures that “don’t’ do me justice” and that pile seems to be growin. Soon I will have to say…ooops no pictures were taken this year..and everyone will know it’s a lie…cause I’m not even doin’ that as good as I used to.

Soul Sellin

Yeah... that Vera Lee is deep....deep in the mud....in over her head......While I have been stuck in the depths of the Frog Pond that white-haired weasel Lurlene has gone and issued me a throw down. Now...that is just plain mean.... Each day she sends me some countdown email with a big ole ticking clock.... She thinks I am ignoring her but I have been busy. You know it takes a lot of energy to sell your soul to the devil one day and try to buy it back with a lie the next. It is a long story and it has to do with my love for making a mess and playing with food and it really ain't worth telling but just let me ask you.....would you rather write a long, boring story or play with some pretzels and chocolate frosting?

Country Seasons

"Are not spices"

Mr. Claude and I headed to the "Farmacy" this weekend where we learned that this was the beginning on "Huntin' Season", and from Keith, who comes to fix the tractor each and every time we call (which is usually spring and about now) I learned that it was "chain saw" sharpn' season, and wood cutt'n season, and hay bail'n season, and time to sharpen the tines on the tiller, because you can plant one more patch of greens season.

I also learned it was midget football season, cause Keith couldn't come right away, he had to take his boy over to play a game "next county over". We're always glad to see Keith, in the country, you have to be prepared to sit a spell and catch up on what happened since the last time you called. He's right on time, but an hour later we're still talking about the season's and the reasons things happen the way they do.

My neighbor saw Keith's truck and knew right away that I'd soon be mopin' about the yard with not much to do, and before I knew it, he was ridin across the field; my knight on a "loaner". (Note, folks in the country don't often loan you their tractors) Mowin' just clears my head and drowns out the worry I'm startin to wear. I forget it all when I mow...Bobby knows that, he feels the same way, so I was grateful for his offer.

It's not "leaf" season yet...but it's startin. Mr. Claude and I fired up the grill, put on our sweaters and ate dinner on the porch. The moon rose round and full as a spotlight. (and you know Teena's love a spotlight) We opened a second bottle of wine and moved inside to light the fire I laid back in March, gettin ready for October and sofa sitt'n season.

Later on, with the mowin' done, I was faced with pull'n the weeds out of the "Man-scapin." God I hate that mound of red dirt. But I gave it my best for two years before I just said, I cann't do it! I walked away from it when the deer ate everyone of the day lillies. Gave it up for brush, when my Maples passed. Last year I had 21 watermellons from the vines I planted, this year, I couldn't bring myself to plant not even a cucumber.

But today the sun is bright and there's a west wind...a changin wind and I softened up a bit and headed out with my tools and thoughts of makin a clearn for what might be next year. That's when I found them, two little water melons. Must have been volunteers from last years crop. Still full of life...ready to grow. All I would have had to do was to pull the weeds back...but I didn't do it...and they never had a chance...choked out by the grass and pokeberry bushes. It made me think about how garden'in is a spiritual practice, you have to keep it up...or the weeds get in...and even the best seeds...can be lost. Everything needs "tendin." So I brushed those babies off, apologized to Miss Universe for neglecting her bounty and made a commitment to do better next year.

Watermellon days are gone for this year; like the hummers and the blackberrys. But that's okay...cause its time to come inside....time to weed out that what's chok'n my spirit and make way for the next season.

Deep as Mud...

You have to understand, Vera Lee is deep as mud and just as dangerous. Mud's tricky, it takes "learnin." Try readin' mud next time you cut across a field in the pick-up, or go junkin' when the tide is out....or the stream looks dry. Honest, I put Mud grips on The Benz when we bought the "Farmacy" and I still took a slide.

But enough of Mud!

Veral Lee is really sharp, she's about the smartest of all the Teena's...I say "About" becasue there are some things she just does not know squat about. (Now Orah Lee will talk to you about squat) But she is shrewed...and Lord knows, don't "Bet" her. Bubba told me that a long time ago. This woman, he said, will not take a bet if there's a snowflakes in hell she's not gonna win. He said he won't bet her and just shook his head when I just put that little piece of advice on the back burner, cause that was all the warnin' a white haired weasel needed. "Let the games begin" I said to myself! And that was the begin'in of a beautiful friendship.

All this to say...I sent Vera Lee an invitation to join me here at "Just Mustard." She sees things from a different perspective...Remember she's deep, so you will get a chance to move out of "fry baby" and into the the "Mud Slide."

I bet her she could figure this all out...so lets just see how long it takes her to say her piece. She is gonna talk to you about her revelations on "Chopped Salad" while she was in Vegas. She's worth the wait! Start countin'. How many days will it take her to git here?

It's Lee...Like the General

Or...Yeah...But another curse.

In the South, we love our Lee’s and spread’um around as generous as salt on pork.

My Daddy’s Momma was a South Carolina Lee and my Momma’s Momma was a North Carolina Lee and then we have the Lee cousins in Rockmart, Georgia and so on.

My Daddy’s middle name was Lee and my brother was named after him ‘cause we love our “Juniors.”

My uncles on my Mamma and my Daddy’s side had a Lee in their name and then there are the Teena’s; Vera Lee, Orah “MeMe” Lee, (and there was Praleen but she changed her name and left town...don't get me started) and then there is me…I’m the all dragged out Lurleeeeeen! (be sure and cock your head to the side and smile when you say that)

My Momma’s Momma who was Maude Lee, jus’ said, “enough is enough!” when she named my Momma she stopped the madness…but in so doin, put in motion the granddaddy of all curses “the shame of havin’ no middle name!”

I’m telling you…that’s when the madness began. She just felt cheated that’s all and it stays with you…it does…it’s like you are always makin up for that one moment…right after labor when your momma was too darn tired to even think up a middle name. (It may have been a good thing cause my Grandmomma Maude was a cussin' woman, and my Momma says I am just like her..and her eyes narrow a bit when she says it...and her lip twitches) And even if you marry, you’re still a name short…it’s just not right.

My momma told me that she used to pretend that her middle name was Rose and I suppose flower names are alright although I prefer Lilly, maybe cause you can still hear the little Lee if you say it jus’ right.

Applause

Well, maybe we’re all hungry…I don’t know. Seems like when I was small, if you were good, well, that was just it…you were good and no one noticed much cause you didn’t “stir up much dust.”

Now my brother…he couldn’t go anywhere without a creatin’ a little cyclone of trouble and mess. He was…well, to me…he was just an "ill wind" if you know what I mean. I knew there was gonna be confusion from the very moment his feet hit the floor in the morning until he would run down the hall at night, leavin’ me to turn out all the lights after stayin’ up late and watchin’ Sci-Fi Theater. But, I’d do it to…and never say a word…cause I learned early that dogs can smell fear, and I figured that went for brothers too.

But be that as it may…back to the point.
One mornin’ I was sittin’ at the breakfast table in peace and quiet because “the wind” hadn’t gotten up yet, when momma tossed in a single tater in the pan to “test tha heat” she liked to say.

It took a minute… but then I heard it…a pan full of taters just clappin! It was like those taters knew, “this child could use a round of applause!” Well, I threw my hands up in the air and stood up right there and took a bow and said, “Thank you…thank you so very much.”

Momma just smiled and held her fry flapper in the air like a wand and said, “Oh, you’re welcome honey, "now run get your brother up, he’s gonna’ be late for breakfast.”
(I love taters...and today is my Momma's birthday..so thank you Momma.)

But there's more...
So I knew Martha Stewart often stole my ideas because I would tell Vera Lee about my gourd idea or set the dining room table with old mason jar candle holders only to see it on page 27 of Martha Stewart Livin' the very next month. But this one was a real mind boggler, being it came from a Spanish lady and wasn’t about a tater at all.

From the short story, Remember the Alamo, by Sandra Cisneros, 1992.

“……When I was a kid and my ma added the rice to the hot oil, you know how it sizzles and spits, it sounds kind of like applause, right? Well, I’d always bow and say Gracias, mi querido pulico, thank you and blow kisses to an imaginary crowd. I still do, kind of as a joke. When I make Spanish rice or something and add it to oil. It roars, and I bow, just a little so no one would guess, but I bow, and I’m still blowing kisses, only inside.


I wish I had thought of the part about still blowin kisses…inside…that’s magic!

Vera Lee and Bubba

...are on vacation! I got word from her Saturday during our usual 9:00 o'clock wake up call, except it was 7:00 o'clock where they were...out west. But she is havin a blast, said they have prostitute callin cards that folks just give out on the street, like we have flyers on our windshield when we come out of Walmart. I ask her to collect a few for me, I like to know what those girls charge.

Anyway, she told me she took Bubba to a Mexican restaurant to meet the Tequila Goddess, but that she was out havin' a baby and then Vera Lee said, that that was alright because the world could use a few more Tequila Goddesses. I loved that.

Back home, we're hoping Vera Lee's old car won't get towed because today is street cleanin day. We tried to move it...pushed it across the street for one side, but gittin it back was kinda "up-hill" so Mr. Pat, (our old manager from when we usta sing with the Fabulous Neons) went out to try and start it because the battery is plum dead...and ended up havin the door slam shut on him with the keys in tha car..and it locked! Mr. Pat was late for his day job and called me to see if I had a set of keys, but I didn't...But I told him to go on and I put a sign on the windshield, "Vera Lee and Bubba are on vacation so please do not tow this car, the keys are in it!" I hope that works! I'll keep an eye on it.

Curse Words

My daddy used to tell me that as soon as you start short’cuttin your message with four letter words that people just stop listening to you and you loose. And ya’ll already know, Teena Lurlene hates to loose.

Curse words mean something different in the South, they make you stop and think, or if done with real skill, doubt. And once you start doubtin’, well, it takes over and unless you are pretty strong, you’re likely to end up frettin’, then you just start to unravel just a little bit at a time.

Doubt does that. And jus when you think you’ve got it licked….it comes back. Curse words are hard to decipher, they come all pretty and sometimes start with a "blessin’ of your heart"and that takes you off guard..cause you think someone cares, but they don’t.

Blessin the heart is like the sign of the cross for a “cursin woman.” It's like sayin' "Father forgive me" before you do somethin you know is wrong. Just remember that and if someone “blesses your heart”, stop listenin' and start hummin! Do what ever it takes to block the stuff that comes after the "heart blessin." Excuse yourself for a minute. You have to fight fire with fire, it’s something you have to master.

A skilled “cursin woman” can deflect a “Heart Blesser” with just a little cock of the head and the right choice of words. I call them “Seed Planters” cause they look you in the eye and the “seed” is carried on the words..like, "Honey, you look a little peaked, have you been feeling alright?" Seed planters do that...and and then there you are...feelin peaked. The words go in your ear and right into the brain unless you are really fast and have already started hummin’. The humm doesn’t have to be “out loud,” it can just take place in your head, like a secret weapon. Seed planters are dangerous. There are other curses too, but I’ll save that for another time.

The Ingredient

 

Bein from the South, it is a well known fact that while summer vegetables have their own unique flavor, even the freshest needs a little help from...the "ingredient". Now the "ingredient" can take many forms, but no matter how you slice it..it ain't good for you. But it's nectur to an ole southern girl who likes to fry. Why for years I thougth that a vegetable just wasn't cooked unless it had a "sheen". But be that as it may...

Several years ago...I decided...due to health and girth reasons that I would give up my precious "ingredient" and opt for the glow of olive and other "healthy" oils. Hummmm....I learned that shine just don't taste like "sheen". I tried "Turkey Nector"...but gettin nector from a turkey...is like well...gittin dinner out of the Bee.

But on this day at Shimpan's Farmacy...I just threw that ole turkey strip o'sheen in the pan and look what my fresh baby squash had to say!

Summer ain't summer without Bacon!
But Tomorrow...bacom season comes to an end...and red wine comes out of the "utility room". Welcome September!
Special thanks to Bobby and Dianne Oley for keepin me and the Mr. "Eatin-in-tha Season".

I said...."Just mustard"

This is not mine...I stole it from my friend Pizzy's husband, Bubba who really made an impact when he said it oh...some maybe 18 years ago, but it has always stuck in my mind...like a final declariation. It all started when we were on our way to Chilli Beach and stopped at the Wendy's from hell just before closin time. I thought I was in the Twilight Zone, there were folks in there, but they...kinda were not there if you know what I mean, they had that Zombified its 11:15 and we are the last place to eat before you leave the interstate highway and head into no-mans land, look. I remember, there was a woman smokin and readin the newspaper without lookin at either, she had big hair and I figured her for the manager. But be that as it may, Mr. Pat had pulled off the highway and this was gonna have to do. So MeMe,Pat,Bubba and I lined up to order.

Bein perkey and full-o-life, and pushy...I ordered first...and answered all the usual questions...fries with that? no thank you, Apple turnover...nope, Supersize it for ya? no, I don't think so....Given I had been a waitress and a telamarketer I understood the shameless practice of trying to get that precious add on that would up your take home salary by a percent or two.

But Bubba...I don't think he....well, shall I just say....after the question about the fry pie...he just looked that little woman right in the face with his eyes bulgin out just a bit...but not too far so as to really scare her,
"I said, JUST MUSTARD!" And so that was that...the smokin lady looked up...and stopped right there in mid smoke ring...and the rest of the staff knew...that Bubba knew what he wanted and they didn't bother askin him anything else. Anyway, I liked that about Bubba..he was a straight shooter. Pizzy always said his bark was way worse than his bite...but Lurlene kept her distance from that part!

So anyway...when I started this Blog, I felt like I need a place to just say what needed to be said...cause I have had some stress lately. But that's enough for now. Love Lurlene