Stayin Lucky: 01-01-11

Somebody needs to educate these young people today. I was in the Food Lion this mornin’ cause I need a jowl for my greens and I wanted dried black-eyed peas, cause in reality, in Virginia there are no “fresh peas” this time of year and I am not goin to be the one to mess with the gastronomic insurance policy.

But I digress. The young lady checkin me out and the gentleman baggin asked me why so many folks were all buyin greens and black-eyed peas and “stuff”?

She sounded like she had been down here for awhile, but when I inquired as to where she came from, she said her Momma was from New York, so I thought….Ahh, that explains it. She went on to tell me that she had learned that Southerners were really superstitious about their food and especially on New Year’s Day. Then she made the ultimate mistake cause she said, “So what’s this stuff sposed to do anyway?” Lord, do not open the door for Lurlene to step through with a story, cause you will git an earful. So right there in the Food Lion I began to recite the lore of food to be eaten on New Year’s Day to assure good luck, good lovin, and prosperity.

Startin with the easy stuff I went through the “traditional menu”.

Well, I said, collards are leafy vegetables and represent “foldin’ money”; while black-eyed peas represent “pocket change”. Always make sure you eat more greens than peas. Simple as that.

Hoppin’ John: is a staple of the Southern table; This is a mix of black-eyed peas (coins) and rice (representin “plenty”). Rumor has it that black-eyed peas were the only crop left after Sherman’s march through the South, so they also are imbued with luck and prosperity. On my table this is only served on the second day, cause I don’t like the idea of a “left-over” on first night.

But back to my story. I had two big ole cans of whole tomatoes in the basket so she ask me what they were for. I had to think quick cause I wanted to say that their whole purpose in life was to hide the flavor of the collards, but I knew better. They are for passion and promise. Start the year off without a tomato puddin’ as I call it and you can bet you are in for a long lonely winter!

In many Asian cultures, noodles are required New Year’s eating cause their length signifies a long life. But if the noodle breaks before it reaches your mouth, it’s bad luck for you! Not so in the South, here it’s Macaroni a “short noodle” and cheese. It’s the hot melted cheese and the toasty buttered bread crumbs that promise a short and warm winter. Why with all that fat you could just stick a candle in my belly and I’d burn for days.

La famille down in New Orleans serves turkey on the New Year’s Day menu. But most Southerners frown on poultry since fowl “scratch for a living”. We prefer to live “High on the Hog” and just about any good cut will serve the purpose. Pork is thought to bring good fortune, a tradition that may have originated because pigs use their snouts to dig in a forward direction, a symbol for “moving forward” in the New Year. I’ve always cooked tenderloins for my personal good luck charm, but given I’m older, I’m goin for a rolled rump. Seems more fittin these days.

My cart is almost empty now, except for leeks and beets a personal favorite with no particular lore and a good thing, cause I have about eight folks standin about and the twenty-sumpins are smiling and promisin me they are gonna fix a real Southern New Years Day Dinner. I move on out of the way so the gentleman behind me with the six-pack could tell his story next. He's been real polite.

My work here is done, it was a good mornin at the Food Lion.

Close by? Come on over, it’s a tradition in the Friendly Village. Feedin the masses since 1990 or there abouts. We almost canceled this year but Jude shook some sense in me and he was right. Some things just gotta happen.

Lurlene and Buck’s New Years Day Dinner (for as long as we live)

Stuffed Pork Roast with pan gravy, Black-eyed peas and Tomato Puddin, Collards, Macaroni and Cheese with buttered crumb toppin, pickled beets, Chow-chow, green tomato pickle and black-berry cobbler. (Look on the side for garlic rice)

Happy New Year everyone!

Silent Night

Walking back from Bubba and VeraLee's the other night I told Buck to look up and tell me what he saw. He said, "blue velvet".
So we sang all the way home.

Fightin' Cookies

Lurlene is out of the office this week on a special assignment with Santa, however, always having a stash that can be used to embarrass you at any time, here is an old Bellevue Supper Club Holiday Cookie letter to bring back a few memories. This was the year of the "Fightin' Cookie"

Sweet and Savory Holiday Wishes from The Bellevue Supper Club December, 2008

Start with ten people that shared no biological kinship or previous personal history. Add diversity in age, race, gender, and faith. Place them gently within a city block sided by Claremont, Greycourt, and Lamont Streets, in a tree-lined neighborhood named “Bellevue” in a small southern city called Richmond, and watch the miracle unfold. We were brought together and remain together, in this very special place which we call “The Friendly Village.”

When you open this container, we hope you will know that you are very special to someone in this group….and that makes you special to all of us.

This is our second gathering to prepare treats to share. Some are rich in family history, some are “NOT”. Some of us cook and some of us “clean up” the mess. But we all love our new tradition and even fight over who is baking what…except for Myra…who was given her own special recipe by Our Lady of Greycourt (Saint Joan). No matter the origin, please know that we packed these in an atmosphere of love and festivity…the holiday music was playing, the tree was lit and so were we! We hope you taste our blessings with each bite.

From Leah Rishona: “I'll be dropping cookies off at Nancy's. Two kinds: Banana Ginger Jumbles and Brownie Drop Cookies.” I'm not gonna participate, but I want some for my Mom, thanks and don't leave them on my step! I don't want folks thinkin' I'm not home. And if you see the postman let me know, he messed up again!

From Nancy and Butch: “I’m sticking to what I know, Peppersoka One of my Mother’s recipes, I'm even making it with her cookie press. Making Mom's favorite cookie called ‘Sleigh Bells,’ which are really just a fruit cake type of cookie....not to be confused with Jude’s wonderful fruitcake! Oh, and I almost forgot…. ‘Forgotten Cookies’.....a recipe from my Aunt Mary…it was one of my favorites when I was a child. (Not so much anymore)

From Dennis: As talented as he is articulate, Dennis says, “I’m making short bread and two kinds of cracker type thingys.” So as you look over your selection and you see what looks like a “Cracker thingies,” then you know that is Dennis’s.

From Jude: Jude and Nancy started “Fruitcake Day” last year. They get together to chop, mix, stir and bake. The rest of us get to sample Mr. Jude’s Fabulous Fruitcake! Jude also makes cookies but he likes things simple…his cookies are simple. He won’t say anything more.

From Myra: As you remember….Myra doesn’t cook. So she was gifted a “No Cook” alcohol based cookie that has been a staple of our Lady of Greycourt, Saint Joan. Myra tried to get her cousin to make these for her. Then she batted her eyes at Jude and Butch. Nancy threatened her with a plague of locust so she claims to have actually gone into the kitchen. There was so much fuss that we have accidentally renamed these….“Myra’s Freaking Bourbon Balls” So imagine you are a Virginia Gentleman or soaking up some “Southern Comfort” when you pop this one into your mouth!

From Jene and Claude: “We will be baking the now famous…Dennis stole my ‘Cracker’ Idea and now I have to come up with something else Cookie. It may be an ole favorite that I have never heard of…called Santa’s Beard…A coconut and cherry cookie (No…it’s not cat hair!!) And….I think…I will make a Chunky Pecan Pie Bar Cookie…since I’m chunky and I like bars!”

From La'Neese: Candied Cherry Cookies – “a favorite of my mother's that she always made and shared with friends and neighbors”. They are also called "Stained Glass Cookies" because of their red and green colors….to keep the drinking theme going: Cheesey Cocktail Cookies – “a recipe from my good friend, who finally shared it with those of us who love them.” This is a good "before the meal" cookie - preferably accompanied by a cocktail of choice.

From Patrick and Paul : “Hummmmmm so many choices so little time. I like to keep you in suspense. Will it be the ‘Unknown’ or ‘Element of Surprise Cookie?’

But look again…we got the E-mails to prove Pat is ready for the fight!!!!

From: Lynn

Date: Tuesday, December 16, 2008 12:55 PM

To: cookiepeople

Subject: Great Cookie Recipe

My sister Patsy sent me a new cookie recipe. It is attached to this email.

Reply From: Patrick coreypk@hotmail.com

Date: Tue, 16 Dec 2008 13:35:34 -0500

To: cookiepeople

Subject: RE: Great Cookie Recipe

Finally, a recipe I can follow. Don't you dare try to make these - I'll come after you with a broken tequila bottle.

Reply From: ndvest

To: cookiepeople

Date: Tuesday, December 16, 2008 14:45 PM

Subject: Fightin’ Cookie

Ahhhh...let the season begin!

Twas the week before Christmas

And all through the Hood

Fighting begins as we all knew it would

La and Patrick with a bottle in hand

Made us all wonder who'd take command

The liquor was purchased

The drinking begun

The last person standing will surely have won.

Cookies with liquor, a great recipe

Will there be any left? We'll just have to see.

Cookie Night’s approaching

The work must be done!

Whatever you do, just be sure you have fun!

Wide at the Bottom

I like to think of challenges like Christmas trees, she said,
Wide at the bottom, but making a point at the top.

Word according to Lurlene
12:19:2010

I hope to be back with useless bits of information soon!
Until I get there...enjoy each and every moment of the season.

How to lose 100 pounds after Thanksgiving

For some reason on the Friday after Thanksgiving, instead of beginning a new cycle of acquiring, I usually start to take a look at all I have managed to “collect” or hold onto during the year. The stacks of magazines that continue to inspire- until I put them down, the half burned candles that I know I can melt down and make a “memorial” to the dinners and gatherings they once graced. I see so much potential in all things that it is hard to simply let them go. But there is something about Thanksgiving Day that helps me to release and make room for that which is yet to come. I call it my Thanksgiving Weight Loss Program. It is a day to purge…things.

This year I am drawn to the closet and the treasure trove of memories interwoven in the folds of woolen scarves, vintage dresses and “soldier” suits that served me for so many years. No longer a size 6, 8, or 10, I have to wonder why I hold on to some of them.

I need only touch the brocade of my infamous “Poinsettia Dress” and the memories of the past come rushing back. It was my mother’s official Christmas dress, past down to her from one of her best friends who would never be seen in the same dress twice. A best friend whose life had taken a different turn.

Every year, around Thanksgiving a box from Barbara would arrive. Even though we knew what was in it, it would sit, unopened until the end of the day. I used to wonder why Momma didn’t just open it right away, but I understand now. It was personal. Only after dinner, homework, and baths, would she take that box to the backroom and in front of the full length mirror, try on each and every piece. I would help with the 22 inch zippers that miraculously brought together two halves of a bodice into a seamless silhouette that only the styles of the fifties and the nature of silk or cashmere seemed to capture.

Momma would smile at herself, turn left and right and then look over her shoulder as she smoothed away the wrinkles that came with packing fine woolens for a long journey. I watched her focus soften and just for a minute, I knew she was seeing herself at a party or a tea; seeing herself in a life like Barbara’s. I knew, because I could see it too; a moment ever so brief, yet everlasting.

So while this year, I have gathered close to 100 pounds of power suits and skinny jeans; leather pants and bouclé jackets, scarves and ill-fitting silk blouses, to take to the Goodwill; I have once again, touched and returned the Poinsettia Dress to her protective cover, on the padded hanger, in the back of the closet. After all, It doesn’t weigh that much.

The Journey

The habit of ignoring our present moment in favor of another yet to come, leads to a pervasive lack of awareness of the web of life in which we are embedded.
-John Kabot-Zin

These are my circumstances, my lessons
Originating in the domestic, rather than the esoteric.
In doing, not thinking.
Tasks that keep me in the moment
Attending
to home, husband, land,
to that which is broken,
to things that must be done.

At first seeming mundane
It was in the rhythm of doing that I recognized my "work"
patience
diligence
acceptance
This is my quality time.

When VooDo Won't Do

Inspiring me to do a little Bite-Me-Map, Liane Kupferberg Carter said it well in her short story, "A Room of My Own", published in this month's issue of Skirt Magazine.

"Writing was my refuge. Writing pinned the chaos to the page; it made it containable and manageable."

Right now so many of my friends are going though what seems to me to be a "re-birthin." Changes are out there, forcin'um out of the comfort of the familiar and sendin'um, one contraction at a time into another phase of life.

While I never birthed anything but a few ideas and some strange art, I do have a vague memory of the process. It's not comfortable and the birth canal is tricky to navigate. But bottom line is, there is only one way out so keep your hands and feet close and just keep "go'in to the light."

These days, I'm just a shadow boxer and it's hard because, there's not much I can actually do, but let'um know I have their back. Earlier today I wrote Lushious and told her to just imagine a great big bugger (how does one spell that crusty thing that falls from the nose) on the lip of the person givin her grief. Look'um right in the face and see it there...while that won't do a darn thing to change the situation, it will put a smile on her face and we all know that those who pretend to be superior, hate it when you smile like that. It'll also help to lightly brush your own nose a time or two, folks always fall for that one. My favorite was when I used to motion to my Nemitoad, "Miss Thang" and then brush at the corner of my lip; and then she'd mirror me and say, "Do I have somthin' on my lip?" Then I'd say, "Yeah, bullshit." Worked every time! Now she didn't write my checks or anything, but it gave us a good laugh and got her off her high horse so we could continue with the work that had to be done.

Changes are hard, especially when the whole picture is so confusin', but I firmly believe that Miss Universe don't play. So to my friends havin' to put up with BS right now, it's time to pin the bugger on the "Donkey" and know that karma is a thing in the makin'.

The Give Away

Serves Four

Lately I’ve been thinkin about “porcupines”. Not the critter; all be-it I do identify with the defensive little feller. Nope, more like the approach of the dark season and memories of birthday’s past that got me dwelling on ‘um.

Momma usta always ask me what I wanted to eat for my birthday supper and when I was little, it was without hesitation that I would ask for Porcupines. Now I know you think there are few things that Southerner’s don’t eat, but NO, we do NOT actually eat porcupines, we fix’um.

(Here’s why they’re called porcupines – as they cook the rice starts to poke out and they look like little porcupines.)

Momma always used her electric skillet and I’m bettin’ that this recipe came with the book cause it’s a bear to make these in the oven. I could almost eat the whole pan by myself, but I know I didn’t cause momma always gave Daddy what she liked to call, “the “Lion’s share”. Funny, I don’t even remember what went with’um, maybe a pineapple salad with shredded cheddar cheese and Hellman’s mayo spooned in the center, or maybe canned pears with cream cheese, didn’t matter cause it was all about the Porcupines. I didn’t have to worry about my brother eatin’um cause they had texture and he didn’t eat texture, nope I don’t think that boy ate real food til he went into the service, but that is another story, today, the focus is on Porcupines.

Folks my age remember these meatballs made with ground beef, rice, onion, tomato soup, and Worcestershire sauce. Buck doesn’t know it, but I’m gonna make him a skillet full of Porcupines this week. It’s gonna rain and be cold here on Wednesday and that’s perfect Porcupine weather.

So thank you Momma, thank you for workin all day then comin home and it pullin together my birthday dinner. Later it would morph into spaghetti, then pork tenderloin with black-eyed peas and stewed tomatoes, but these little meatballs still have a special place in my heart.

Ingredients:

1 pound lean ground beef
1/3 cup uncooked long-grain rice
1/4 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup water
1 teaspoon salt
dash ground black pepper
dash of Worcestershire
1 can condensed tomato soup
1/2 cup water

Preparation:

Combine the ground beef, rice, onion, 1/4 cup of the water, salt, and pepper. Shape meat mixture into 12 to 15 meat balls. Combine the soup, and rest of the water in a large saucepan; (electric skillet, but who has one these days) bring to a boil. Add meatballs; reduce heat, cover, and simmer over very low heat for 1 hour. Stir occasionally.
Serves 4.

Consider the Alternative

In the Friendly Village, most of the time we just put a candle or two on a cake, pie, or martini and call it a birthday. It’s the safe thing to do, given we are all approaching a potential fire-hazard stage. This year, for some odd reason, Jude decided that the world needed to be reminded of my long run in the drama that is, “The Monkey Named June Bug”.

I smelled it before I actually saw it, almonds, vanilla and butter cream, hovering about a perfect circle of fluffy white frosting and cheery yellow flowers. Then, there was a very brief moment of disassociation, because while I like numbers, these two, standing side by side, seemed to taunt; two waxy little brats with their tongues of fire, singing “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, naaah, you are fifty-eiiiiiight.” I shut them up as quickly as I could with a wish and a blow, but they still stood, silent, yet strangely defiant.

Now, fifty-eight isn’t a “Magic Marker” kind of birthday, you know the ones that indicate the end or beginning of an era (or error). No, those you know are coming and can prepare for by losing weight, coloring your hair, or purchasing something big and extravagant to further signify that you are embracing the zero. Nor is it a “Highlighter” birthday, those transparent little markers there to remind you that the next decade is “approaching” much like Birnam Woods. It is, however, a bit demanding in terms of accountability. It’s like an emergency preparedness check-list of sorts. You should feel like you have some control, because you have the list, but in reality, you are holding the list and thinking that being “prepared” is just too much work.

All of that aside, I am indeed happy to be who and where I am right now. I am putting my stubby 5 and 8 in a little box, filled with images of laughing friends, bits of ribbon, notes and cards, all to be opened and placed with great joy atop my eighty-fifth birthday cake!

Life is good!

I eat local...because I can

“Potential” Cherry Tomato Catsup

Crispin Sartwell, in his book Six Names of Beauty describes wabi-sabi, a concept from Japanese culture to describe “the beauty of the withered, weathered, tarnished, scarred, intimate, coarse, earthly, evanescent, tentative, ephemeral.”

Autumn calls us to remember our own fragility and cherish this beauty. Be Well!

Catsup

1 Pint of withered cherry tomatoes rescued from a fate not fittin' a tomato. ½ cup water, pinch of salt.

In a small skillet, bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer until tomatoes split open and water has all but dissolved.

Put tomatoes, skin and all, through a food mill or mess strainer.

Pour into a tiny little jar and appreciate the beauty and taste rendered on the last day of summer.

Cannin' Shoe-strings

My momma used to say that my grand-momma would can shoe-strings if someone left them on her door step. And while I know she wouldn’t can ‘um, I also know she would find a way to use’um in the process.

My Daddy’s Momma came from a family of thirteen and she was a frugal as they come. There was no such thing as a “scrap”; everything had “potential” as she used to say. She just about raised me cause Momma and Daddy both worked and I was always at Grandma’s. There wasn’t a craft in the world that she didn’t teach, or “attempt” to teach me, cause you know, “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop.” I used to watch her turn little pieces of left over pie crust into brown-sugar “stickies”; tomato skins, celery leaves and turnip greens into as fresh a vegetable broth as you could ever want. And yes, lord, she put up tomatoes, green beans, squash and just about any other vegetable folks would leave on her porch-step. It was a matter of respect she would say. Respect for the farmer and respect for the beans.

Grandma was a dress-maker, that’s what she did for a livin' after all was said and done. I went to sleep many an afternoon, listenin' to the hum of her sewin' machine and ease-droppin' on the conversations of neighbors when they would come over for a fittin'. Grandma made her own patterns out of brown paper bags or newspaper, she had a knack for that, and she would fit it to a tee, right on you. She had a long silver mirror right on the back of the door and I could see by the faces in that mirror that most everyone was pleased. Grandma sat on the floor with pins in her mouth and chalk in her hand, but you can bet she had one eye on that “glass-face” to make sure all was goin' to the likin' of her customer. She could read the slightest turn of the head or pucker of the lips and knew right off which gestures signaled success and which meant a seam or dart needed to be “adjusted”. When hemlines started to go up in the 60’s, I saw Grandma bite her lips more than once when a little too much knee came poking out on a lady that had best have kept that little bit hidden from public view. But it was about the customer and Grandma would say, “Might as well put it where she wants it or she’ll roll that hem over when she gets home and somebody’s gonna think I’m gittin sloppy in my handwork.”

But all of this aside, it was all about the remnants; those little pieces of what was left over that Grandma worked magic with. “That’s just too good to just toss aside,” she would say. Now pull out that box of scraps and let’s see what we can put together." So bits and pieces became wool and satin quilts and doll clothes, while ugly yarn all to often became even uglier pot holders. But the bottom line was always, the “potential”.

And so I grew; and I learned to turn my head to the side and use “my other eye” as Grandma would say. She said people were the same way, if you look hard, you can find somethin' good, you can find potential in most everybody. She said, people, in the “right mix” could surprise you. Some folks don’t “stand alone” well, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have somethin' to give, didn’t have value. If somebody hurt my feelins she used to make me tell her, “what hurt” and work me through it if it was only my ego that got bruised. If I retreated, she gave me a chore, like sortin' buttons, or rollin' satin ribbon from the grab-bags that the ribbon mill gave out at the end of the month. By the time Momma got off work, everything was “All right”. That’s what Grandma used to say, she’d begin and end with those words, like they were one; allright.

But I digress cause I started all this to tell you about this sad little pint of withered cherry tomatoes I saw today at the farm stand that this lady was gonna throw out cause she said they weren’t worth sellin; and I clear as a bell, could hear my grandma whisper, “Sis, those are just as sweet as can be, take’um home and turn’um into somthin’. It wasn't a second, and the lady said, “Take’um if you want’um, some people can turn anything into somethin’, they’re probably allright.

They are always with us, those we have loved, they speak through people, circumstance, happenstance, and nuance.

So be still and listen. All-right?

The Detail Mirror

Lurlene knew something was missing, but she just wasn’t sure what.

When we hold up a "detail mirror" to our lives and weigh ourselves against others, we are not able to see the things that make us truly unique.

Word according to Lurlene. 9-3-2010

Here's another one of my little "bite-me" maps that my friend Carol showed me how to do one day at work. When I don't have "words" I like to think in pictures, and when I can't find the pictures I want, in nature, or through surfin Google images, I find myself in the proverbial pickle of havin to actually draw them.

So one day Carol says, "do you ever use PAINT, I told her that I liked pencil better and she, in her computer savy wisdom said, "No goof-ball, PAINT, on your computer." So I says, "Show me." and well, now, when I'm feelin down and low, I PAINT. So thank you Carol for openin that door for me.

Wanna Paint? You've all got it if you have a PC and thanks to the Gatesmiester General. You Macs, well, you're so good you don't need it! Think it’s easy? It makes Etch-a-Sketch feel like a walk in the park. I use my mouse only, no stylist or special tools.

So, if you gotta minute, (or an hour because it is addictin) click on Paint under "My programs" click on accessories and have a go. Don't judge yourself, "Just Do It" to quote the poets at Nike. Use the pencil, the brush, the spray, have a blast. It'le be fun.

How you view....

this will depend on if you see yourself as the great big screeching head, or the little guy walkin out.
Word according to Lurlene - August 2010

A Proper Introduction

Meet the Manager

If you can manage a neon, you can manage anything.

One of the things about livin in the Friendly Village is that you jus never know when you will acquire a new persona. It’s true, here, you can live out your dreams or be forced into somebody else’s, not unlike that new movie, Inception and perhaps just as frightin’. That’s what happened to Mr. Pat. bein so very tall, so very, handsome and lovin’ pointy-toed shoes and the click of a well manicured set of nails as much as the any one of the Neons; he jus seemed to be perfect “Manager” material. So before you knew it, we had adopted him.

Now VeraLee wrote about how the Neons were the precursors to the Two-Bit Teena’s but I’m gonna give you a little chapter from the Manager’s Book, one of the first published on the Free-After Hour Press (ie: my copier at work). It will give you a little background on each of the Neons as well as an idea of what Mr. Pat, (AKA The Manager) had to endure.

How to Manage a Neon (or a Teena)

1. Buy a large car and make sure it is a color that one of the Neons will want when you decide to replace it with a new one (in about two years or until Dennis dents it, whichever comes first) Note: Mr. Pat always studies up on cars, he just doesn't go by what fancies him, he reads and ponders and then buys. But one of his considerations is which Neon (or Teena) will be needin a new car next and what would she want and what color would she want. He likes to make sure we get first dibs and I am still driving "The Villager" while LaNeese still has that zillion year old Volvo Station wagon.

1. Take them shoppin and be sure to have snow tires in case one wants boots when it snows. One year we had a surprise snow and I (the one who only wear pointy toe shoes) had no boots. So Mr. Pat put chains on the car and then picked us all up, cause we always travel in a pack, to go boot shoppin.

1. Learn to make their favorite drink: The Manager has to be a mixologist cause we all have such different taste. Lushious wants fruity sweet and a perfect Cosmo, Lurlene loves her birthday namesake drink, the Radcliffe Martini with hand stuffed blue cheese olives, VeraLee...she's easy, the "Brenda-Rita" that cost a zillion dollars for the ingredients or just stop by and pick up a Gas Station Rita and she will be happy. For La, "Hey..."got a beer?"

1. Never let a Neon pose on her “Bad side or her Backside." This is important because Lurlene will indeed tear up a picture if it's not becommin' He must guard our image at all times and make sure he notices perfect places for us to "Strike a Pose".

1. Arrange to have food available at every performance. (Note: whenever Neons are together it is a performance)

1. Know when to “Just suck around it.” This is a phrase that is a story in itself...so I won't go into it here, but it is a good clean phrase and it means..."deal with it".

1. Don’t sleep with just one. (This takes some explanation too, but basically, when we all went to Chili Beach we stayed in Momma Neeses Cottage in the Trailer Court. That's ten of us in two bedrooms, so often it would be four in a King size bed and one on the floor. Buck couldn't always get down so often I would have to sleep around in what ever bed that was available, not havin' "couple status". So everyone of us, except VeraLee ended up snoozin with the Manager at some time. That's why the next rule.

1. If they (Neons or Teenas) are in the room, pretend you actually ARE sleeping and never open your eyes.

1. There are so many Manager stories, but they will come later. I am so excited that he has accepted my offer to write, because this man can turn a phrase. I'm just a story teller, he on the other hand...has skills, you'll see!

Welcome Mr. Pat!

(In the picture: Sitting: Left to Right Teena Lurlene, The Manager, Vera Lee. Standing: LaNeese Lame' and Lushious. Chili Beach - Momma Neeses "Cottage" sometime in the 90's. On our way to perform at some dive.

Dropped by to say "hey"

Hey there, Teena Lurlene. Just dropped by to say hello and thank you for inviting me to be a contributor to your blog. Been thinking about that little red convertible that you and the Villagers rented for me on my 40th birthday. But before I put pen to paper (or, in this case, fingers to keyboard) I will need to let the memory steep a bit. But don't worry, like a bad penny, I'll be back.

My Pie?

Now I mean no harm or disrespect but have you ever noticed how when you go lookin for a recipe on the internet that you find it and it sounds good and it has five stars and then you drop down a little lower to investigate what folks actually said about “the recipe” and they say things like; “this was the best peach pie recipe ever, I made a few changes like I added a teaspoon of nutmeg, and I didn’t use the sugah they called for, or I substituted agave and then tapioca for the cornstarch, then I added a cup of white wine and only cooked it for 20% of the time the author mentioned and then left it in the oven overnight and it was perfect.”

Honestly, why did you give this recipe five stars when the only thing that vaguely resembles the original was that you started with peaches? It’s not right…I mean…you are gushing over your own version of this poor defenseless peach pie recipe and I guess the lady who sent it in is askin, “what tha?”

I mean here she is, sharin her heart, her perfect pie and everyone is just changing, and addin, and subtractin. I bet her feelins were hurt when her blue ribbon winner turned into lord knows what kind of mess.

Oh I see it all the time and I have to say, does anyone out there just “follow” the Peach Pie as written? Why did you even look for a recipe if you are gonna to change it up like that? Perhaps I am being testy. But I digress.

Sunday was Dennis 54th and Buck and I had a boatload of fresh peaches from one of our day trips so here is our version of a perfect "Peach and Oh, I had a handful of blueberries so I threw them in Pie." It was good I thought, try it like this or go ahead and put your little spin on it and call it your own.
Happy Birthday Dennis!

Dennis’s “Just Peachy” and Blueberry Deep-Dish Birthday Pie
This involves getting into your car and heading out to find fresh peaches.
Ingredients
• 10-15 fresh peaches, pitted and sliced
• a handful of “woe is me” blueberries
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1 TBS. cornstarch
• 1 tsp. Nutmeg
• Dash of Amaretto (because Lurlene is cookin)
• 1 recipe pastry for a 9 inch double crust pie or "Let the Dough-Boy do it."

Directions

• Mix flour, cornstarch, sugar and butter into crumb stage
• Place one crust in the bottom of a 9 inch pie plate.
• Line the shell with some sliced peaches. Sprinkle some of the butter mixture on top of the peaches, then put more peaches on top of the crumb mixture. Toss the blueberries in “willie-nillie.”
• Continue layering until both the peaches and crumbs are gone.
• I like to use my cookie cutters to cut out shapes for the top of the pie, stars, hearts, dogs, etc. Top pie with what ever you want to do with the top crust.
• Bake at 450 degrees for 15 min and then 350 for 30 minutes or until crust is golden.
  Allow pie to cool before slicing.
• Best when eaten fresh. With friends.

Cheesus Christ!

So you all know my weakness for cheese when the going gets tough and this week it has been so stressful that I found myself thinking "Cheesus Christ" is there a cheese Jesus I wondered? If so...I was in great need of a fix. I will spare you the details.

Since I couldn't find one,(Cheese Jesus) I made a huge bowl of Cheesus Grits. What is Cheesus Grits you ask? Well they are my own concoction blended to "set you free", release endorphins and leave you thankin the Lord. I know nothin about proportions, I blend and stir until it all looks right, but this is what I did this mornin to burn the meanness out of my heart.

Water, red pepper flakes, garlic, turmeric, adobo.
Bring to a boil and add salt of the sea.
Stir in grits.....stir....is the operative word...watch for lumps.
Stir and reduce heat
Stir, until just thick enough to scald your hand as the bubbles burst
Add a chunk of shredded Habanera and Scotch Bonnet cheese to the mix.
Stir until melted and probably hotter than hell.
Pour into a bowl and eat.
Just let it burn all the way down, sanctified, and satisfied. Oh you'll feel the glow for about an hour and then again I'm sure. But trust me; it will take your mind off that gorilla on your back and the dew-breakin is good for your complection.

So okay...I'm ready for the day.

Hotter than a Firecracker on the 4th of July

My new landscaping looks like a Christmas wreath that’s been hangin up past its prime; looks kinda green until you touch it and then a zillion needles fall at your feet. Weather man said it’s been over 100 degrees most of June and July’s gonna start out the same.

Christmas in July

Fault findin’ aside, it’s July and that’s just what to expect. But it got me thinkin about July’s past, young July’s and middle age July’s. Big July’s like 1976 and little July’s like this one past. I think the 4th of July is kind of like Christmas. There’s all this expectation about, “What ya’ll are gonna do and eat; where you gonna go and who you gonna have over. Ya’ll gonna be at the mountains, rivah, beach? July just has her own set of expectations.

Back in the early days, Buck and I used to like to go to Washington. It wasn’t a long ride and heck, it was a hell of a show! We figured it was our tax dollars at work, so why not! I always made a funky hat so he could find me in the crowd. When he told me, first time that we were goin’ to the Mall, I didn’t know he meant the “National Mall.” So you know I was surprised when there were no shops. But it was fun. When we first started, it was whatever hotel was available last minute and we stayed in some interesting places let me tell you. But by the end, we learned our lesson and made reservations. We stayed fancy one time at the Willard (special weekend rates you know) but my all time personal fav was the Holiday Inn by the Air and Space Museum. They had a roof top pool perfect for watchin the moon and the fireworks all the while sippin the Captian from a red, white, and blue plastic cup.

The year Sonny got his citizenship we all decided to stay in the Village, given we already had all those little flags, the bunting and all. So the Neons (predecessors of the Two-Bit-Teena’s ) planned a progressive eatin and drinkin croquet game that began on Lamont, went down the alley, over to the Lamae Café, back out to Lushious and Sonny’s, over to “The DJ and the Manager’s House” then to the Bee’s and finally ended at the HOE (House on the Edge) House of Bubba and VeraLee. Each stop had a festive drink and a “heavy Hor” and the challenge of actually getting your ball through the wicket.

I just wanted to add, that the Neon’s were dressed in black Boost-Tee-Ays that we decorated special with sequins and stars and Wonder Woman like attachments just for the event! Only the Bee (who is sadly no longer named the Bee and no longer associates with us) refused to “hook up for the Holiday”. I have to say, folks in the neighborhood were comin’ out just to see what all the commotion was about! I don’t know who won that game, but it did take us about 6 hours to finish, if we did indeed finish. All I know is that when we got to Bubba’s and he cranked up the backroom and we brought out the tambourines, I called it a night. Now that was a good 4th of July, the year Sonny got his citizenship!

One year VeraLee was whining cause the Dali Lama was in DC and she was stuck in Richmond and she knew better than to ask Bubba to take her into a mass of humanity on the 4th of July, (Don’t even mention the DL) So the Manager, kind man that he is and always up for a DC run, offered to take us! Now true he had just taken a likin to a new feller (Mr. P2) who just happened to live in DC, and who lived not too far from the Mall, and he could certainly visit this new friend while VL and I battled the crowd, So after checkin’ it out with Mr.P2 off we went! We flew! Cause the DL was scheduled to speak at noon and it was already nearly that. We parked (TYMU) and just dove into the masses after adjustin our watches and promising to be back at the fountain at a certain time.

VL and I were fascinated by the secret service “Men in Black” all walkin in what else….black suits, expensive sunglasses, and talkin into tiny little ear pieces, just doin’ what they had to to make sure HHDL was safe. But i tell you, they were so “not secret”. After a few turns around the prayer wheel, we headed off to find a seat for HH's talk. VeraLee wanted so bad to be close so I just told her to hold my shirt tail and I promised I would git her up front, we would walk using the intention of finding the perfect seat. I didn’t tell her that we would probably be pissin’ lots of folks off, but it was important to her and it all worked out.

When it was all over, humbled and inspired to be better, we headed over to cool our heals in the fountain and wait for Mr. P1 and 2 to show. After Tapas and a good Sangria on K Street, we got in to see the Viking “Family Reunion” exhibit too, (cause VL was origionally a Black Irish Princess killed by vikings and I was her sister in a past life...but that's another story) but VL wouldn’t let me buy a hat, she said she could find me in a crowd.

Later we all took to headin’ for the “Hills” on the 4th. The Big Time Boone 4th of July Parade held a fascination for us all. Do you know they had 100 year old men walkin in that thing. One would think they would have gottin them a cart or somethin. I did indeed made a wonderful pinwheel head band that landed my picture on the cover of the Watauga County Democrat!

When that parade was over we rushed about 60 miles per hour, round hair-pen turns and hurlin’ cliffs to git to Blowin Rock to catch the next show and do some serious shoppin, eatin, and drinkin. Lushious knew all the back roads, but it was VeraLee who found us a back way home and straight into the parkin’ lot of Harris Teeter so we could pick up the rest of the fixin’s for that night’s dinner.

The Universal Mother let all the folks know that Lushious had brought in about 12 of her little friends for the holiday, so folks came out to see us, Minni and Ken, Miss Hal, Bobby, a truck load of cousins from Pigeon Fork and jus anybody who ever knew Nurse and Zeb stopped in. I wish I could remember how many pounds of ribs and Bar-B-Q and slaw and corn and butter beans and cantaloupe we ate that night; and then how many dozen eggs and pounds of bacon in the morning. Cookin started at 6:00 a.m. when I got up to make coffee and didn’t stop….until I had finished the last “center” out of the “Stick-Boy” cinnamon buns. It wouldn’t be fittin if I didn’t mention the Jalapeno Pimento Cheese and Sourdough bread from the Farmer’s Market. It wouldn’t be the 4th without Jalapeno Pimento Cheese!

After dinner we’d walk down the Mountain to Appalachian State for the fireworks and a few laps around the arena jus to make room for pound cake and ice-cream when we got home. VeraLee usually brought out the Fiction-ary and as usual tested the likes of us all. Better than a story she always said!

Seems like now...we all have our own "places" and I guess that says somethin about success and all, but to be honest, I'd trade it all for another round of croquet right here in the Friendly Village. Happy 4th everyone!

The Cherry Radish

And so he said to me, “these cherries taste funny.”
For a moment I just held my breath and wondered how he could mistake a radish for a cherry
then I remembered
And decided to just say
"I know."

Happy Summmmer Tiiiiiiiimmmmme

I am just about to break into one of my alltime personal favorite songs....Summertime, and da livin is EEEEEEZZZZZZZEEEEEE.
To be honest, all weekend I was thinkin of me and my friend Pam, back in tha day of baby oil and iodine...bakin....and bakin....and layin on those godawful foil blankets that promised to tan you even under your chin...and between your toes and help you loose 10 pounds in the doin. It is a wonder we are still alive and not some giant cancerous poka-dot on the face of the earth. I have a great story to tell about that but right now I just want to say that there are benefits to the sun and bein someone in the field of health and all....I just wanted to share...today, cause it's Summmmmmmmer Tiiiiimmmmmme!
There is a story brewin...most of you know it, but you will just have to wait.

Thank you Miss Universe

A tale of pure selfishness and pleasure seekin

Miss Universe came to the Teena’s on one of our “outins” to Boone to see the Universal Mother. When we arrived, the usually subdued little college town was all abuzz with what seemed like a zillion perky, “look at my midriff” younguns arriving for freshmen orientation. So needless to say, all thirty-seven parkin places “down-town” were taken. Now you have to understand that we had to stop and get a quick martini prior to visitin the Universal Mother because she does not allow for imbibing at her sanctuary and house-o-healin. Eatin, yes, there is always plenty of chickin and dumplins, white gravey, sausage, pound cake, fresh veggies from the Farmer’s Market and apples…apples…and more of the best fried apples that ever lived to be sliced. But no..and I mean no “bean-dust” is to be brought into her sanctuary. Now if there is one person that a Teena bows down and gives glory, it is “The Universal Mother.” However, that doesn’t mean that we don’t have one for “the honor” prior to our arrival. But on this day of freshman and wo’out parents…our waterin’ holes and parkin places were few and far between.

So OrahLee, youngest daughter of the Universal Mother, said, “Well, you know I will just ask “Miss Universe” to be gracious and kind and open a parkin place right up in front, and I ask that there be top-shelf liquor and an experience bartender and the freshest juice available to make me one kick-ass Cosmo.” And she said it so matter-o-fact that, VeraLee and I just gasped. I mean it’s just not somethin one asked of Miss Universe. You might ask for pointy-toed high-heel boots, or one of those big-faced diamond encrusted watches, but that OrahLee would ask Miss Universe for somethin so, so, self-indulgent was almost sacrilege. We were pretty sure we would never find shoes that fit again after that little piece of bidin.

But you know, OrahLee and Miss Universe are rather close, given the crown and scepter thing and all, and sure enough, in the time it took for us to exhale a big ole Lincoln with Florida plates just pulled right out…leavin us plenty of room to pull right in, didn’t even have to go through the motions of a parallel park. We were indeed, blessed. So while we judged what we could ask Miss Universe, it seems she didn't judge us. So in unison, we gave a queenly wave and said, "Thank you Miss Universe!” We always have and we always will.

Happy Birthday VeraLee

As they woke up on the beach the morning after the birthday celebration, wondering what they had done the night before, they took comfort in the fact that they still had their hats on.

VeraLee’s birthday always marks the begin’n of summer, just like Bubba's is the harbinger of spring. Used to be we always celebrated at “Chili Beach” and I mean celebrated! When VeraLee turned 40, I shall never forget; we had salad in a bag, rosemary roasted new potatoes, lobsters cooked over hot coals, roasted corn and maybe I cut a watermelon, I'm not sure I actually cut it, cause I used to take'um and let'um roll around in the back of Bubba's truck and then just bring home again. But, be that as it may. I know DJ made and a big ole "Triffle" one year, cause we had to hide the "trifflin dish" so VeraLee wouldn't suspect anything. (Like she didn't when the lobster snapped her hand when she looked in the bucket makin noise)

For entertainment I sang the entire CD of Phantom of the Opera, even paddlin around in the mist, and I hit my note! The whole trailer court was talkin about that the next day. Corks were flyin and one even stuck itself right up on a nail on the screened in porch. We screamed...I swear Bubba aimed that sucker trying to shut me up....(Phantom of the Opera). (Mannie, the retired hitman from Jersey even came out with his piece to see what that was all about, Mannie lived in the trailer next door) But I would not be hushed because I was a "Sayra" Brightman wannabe. My favorite picture is one of me and VL lookin like a pair of stewed tomatoes after a day of sun and fun. We were holdin one of our soldiers...an empty magnum of the "Captin". We considered ourselves being "green" that way, why by two bottles when a magnum would do! (Half as much to recycle)

After the party we'd walk down to the bath house for a long hot shower and solve the problems of the world, on the way down...or back..or durin. I never took to outdoor showers, preferin to just swim with the dolphins and what ever else was in the water...those days. But we never lost our hats...not once!
So happy birthday VeraLee, thank you for sharin so many with us!