WWDS

"What would Dixie Say?"

"I'm saying this is the South. And, we're proud of our crazy people. We don't hide them up in the attic. We bring 'em right down to the porch." From Julia, Designin' Women, Season 2.

Well, this has been a cruel and unusual month, robbin’ me of my ability to write, think, type, and on a bad day…even breath. April is tricky, you never know what to wear, your legs haven’t got tan and once again it’s time to bring out the wax and suffer what we must, for the landin' strip, the dreaded Hedge trimming!

Why, I had to give myself a "pedi" the other day when the weatherman said it was gonna be 90. Brought out the dremal. It didn’t matter that my feet were white…that’s forgivable, what mattered was gittin' the quarter inch of ash and hide off my heals. I looked like a Yeti for God’s sake. But these things are small.

Be that as it may, the Spring is a bad month for Momma and while she makes it through the Winter pretty good, the Spring, well…it makes her think she is gittin' married to a dead man. That’s right…every year she goes through the same torment…her soul mate is alive and hidden and she is gonna git married and wear a dress like Ivana Trump…and then she is gonna have a reception in the town park. This is true, this is exactly what she said when she called me the other night.

Breaks my heart really…I wish every woman could marry their soul-mate…dead or alive. But the thing is…you just can’t run around askin' folks if they know where that dead soul mate is…cause that will git you…well, it will git you a 72 hour ECO from the magistrate. It will git you put in someplace against your will and people will ask you a zillion questions and then they will tell your family things like…Your Momma has the right to have what ever delusion she can dream up honey, no law against a little wishful thinkin'! She just needs to you know, keep it a bit more civil, you can’t yell at folks and threaten them when they tell you your soul-mate has shall we say…”left the building”. ( Hummmm, I threaten Vera Lee all the time, I better be careful in the future to only whisper those threats)

Just the other day, MeMe and I thought we might still have a year or two of Trophy Bride status left in us. MeMe said, to quote the poet Shikerra “These hips don’t lie!” Go MeMe, perhaps the officer who picks your hips up might agree. But anyway, I’m delusional too; I actually think "the girls still ride high in the saddle; and my chin is still located in line with my ears. I think all of that, and I have a right to, and above all, I will curse you if you tell me different.

I have the right to remain delusional, anything I say…can and will be used against me…but only if my delusions present a harm to myself or others.
I have the right to an attorney who will tell my family that I have the right to live with animal companions as long as no-one smells them and I dispose of any who might pass while under my care.
I have the right to privacy too, I mean even though I have been declared a risk to myself, I can keep that to myself and the doctors cannot tell anyone my business, not even my family…it’s a SECRET! One would think Momma was Obamma given the security I have had to penetrate to tell the social worker who will not admit that she is actually there…what the unknown person has been up to lately so they can make a treatment plan for the alledged person who may or may not be in their charge.
I don’t mean to be harsh, Momma is just a little ole lady with big ole problems and we all want to help, but no……it’s a right to be incognito once detained for being…shall we say of questionable mental status. Well, I guess I will just have to let them figure it all out without any past history. Heaven forbid I might just influence them with a history of past behavior. Sucks, that’s just not right…it’s prejudice I suppose and I would not want to prejudice those working in the field of mental health.
I have the right to all of my property as long as I can slam a door on it…hide it, or drink it and don’t drive under the influence, I can just sit back and spend myself into a hole and never git out...and I guess those folks that I have the right not to tell will jus take care of that too.
I have the right to “bare arms” even though I have bat wings these days…I have the right to flap all over you…as long as I don’t hurt you.
It’s frustratin, I feel bad for momma, and my heart hurts, and I’m so sorry Dixie left us…she would know just what to say to those mean ole HIPPA flag tote’n CSB workers.

I’m off to the front porch now, its happy hour and Buck chilled the Champ-ale. We’ll toast to Momma and better days, days filled with soul-mates, and silk dresses, and receptions in the park.

Vera Lee Cooks Again

Hail Mary Full of Grace Berry Cobbler
A real outing of the Bellevue Supper Club is spontaneous and at the end of a busy day working in the yard or in my case up in the attic. Yesterday Lushious “rang the bell” and everyone came to her backyard to eat and drink. I was supposed to bring dessert. Now….perhaps you remember the story about the Volvo. It seems the Volvo has a mind of its own and decides when and where it will run. Well Bubba was out of town in my new little mouse car and I was left with the old cantankerous. So of course I couldn’t go to the store to get anything and was left to my own devices and whatever happened to be available in the frig. So I googled until I found a recipe that went with my ingredients. Hence the Hail Mary Cobbler….. I had just enough and not a bit extra to make this receipt. So here is a busy day, last minute, make it in a Crockpot dessert by Paula Dean. It does make your house smell really good while you cook it!
Now, it says to serve it with ice cream but the mean old Volvo would not let me go to get any….Holly came to the rescue by going home to get some whipped cream.
Oh….and I read a suggestion that instead of making the topping….you could just put a roll of those refrigerated cinnamon buns on top of the fruit. It sounds good so I might just try that the next time….

Ingredients
Filling:
• 1 (10-ounce) bag frozen strawberries
• 1 (10-ounce) bag frozen blueberries
• 1 (10-ounce) bag frozen raspberries
• 1/3 to 2/3 cup sugar, depending on your level of preferred sweetness
• 1/2 cup Bisquick
Topping:
• 2 1/4 cups Bisquick
• 1/4 cup sugar, plus 1/4 cup
• 4 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1/2 cup milk
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Directions
Spray the insert of a slow cooker with nonstick cooking spray.
In a large mixing bowl, toss together all the frozen fruit, sugar and 1/2 cup baking mix. Transfer the fruit to the slow cooker. In another large mixing bowl, stir together 2 1/4 cups baking mix, 1/4 cup sugar, melted butter and milk with a wooden spoon. With your hands, drop bits of dough on top of the fruit in the slow cooker. In a small mixing bowl, stir together the remaining 1/4 cup sugar and ground cinnamon. Sprinkle the cinnamon sugar on top of the dough and place the lid on the slow cooker. Turn the power onto high and slow cook for 3 to 4 hours until the topping has puffed and the fruit is bubbling.
Serve warm with whipped cream or ice cream.

Bubba’s Favorite Once Every Few Years Birthday Black Forest Cake

To make this cake, first you have to go to the store….unless of course you actually drink buttermilk. I for one, cannot imagine anyone drinking buttermilk. Also….I don’t understand why to get buttermilk you have to buy a whole quart when all you need is 2/3 cups….Why doesn’t it come in those cute little pint containers like whipping cream???
While you are at the store, you might as well get a bunch of other stuff….including a bottle of Champaign which will definitely be of use at some point during this process.
Notice that there are four separate things you have to make…the cake, the chocolate buttercream frosting, the cherry filling, and the whipped cream icing. This why having a bottle of Champaign is very important. You will need some before this is finished. Now I intended to make this cake in stages….like making the cake part one day and finishing up the next. Of course, that didn’t happen so I spent most of Bubba’s birthday working on this project..

Start by making the Fudge Cake (see below)
You will need:
1 Cup butter
2 Cups sugar
4 eggs
2 Cups sifted all=purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
1 ½ teaspoons baking soda
2/3 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, grated
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour three 9-inch cake pans.
Cream the butter and sugar.
Add eggs one at a time and beat well after each addition.
After the last egg is added, beat one minute or until the mixture is light and fluffy.
Sift flour with salt.
Mix baking soda with the buttermilk and add alternately with flour to the creamed mixture.
Add vanilla.
Melt the chocolate in 2/3 cup boiling water, stir until smooth.
Blend the chocolate into the cake mixture.
Pour into prepared pans and open bottle of Champaign. Bake layers at 325 degrees for 30 to 35 minutes, or until cake tests done. Cool 10 minutes in pans, then turn out on racks to finish cooling.

Make the Chocolate Butter Cream Frosting
(2 cups)
8 tablespoons butter
4 Cups sifted confectioner’s sugar
2 large egg whites or 4 small egg whites, unbeaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, melted
Cream butter; add sugar, egg whites, and vanilla.
Add chocolate and continue beating until smooth.
Now it is time to finish the cake…..
Best to have some more Champaign before starting on this……
You will need:
1 can (17 ounces) pitted dark sweet cherries
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3 cups whipping cream
½ Cup confectioner’s sugar
1/3 cup kirsch, divided
Drain liquid from cherries into small saucepan, reserve cherries. Bring liquid to a boil. Mix cornstarch with ¼ cup water and stir into juice.. Cook until clear.
Add cherries; cool.
Whip cream until soft peaks form. Sprinkle sugar over cream and continue beating until firm peaks form on beater when lifted from bowl.
Pour in ¼ cup kirsch a little at a time, beating only until it is taken up by the cream.
Place one layer of cake on large cake plate.
Use plain ½ - inch tube or plain nozzle of cookie press to form 3 rings of Chocolate Butter Cream Frosting on bottom layer leaving about 1 ½ inches between rings. Chill.
Fill in between rings with cherries. Place second layer gently on top of cherries.
Prick top all over with fork, sprinkle lightly with kirsch, and spread it with 1 inch of whipped cream.
Put top layer on gently. Spread sides and top with remaining whipped cream. Decorate as desired….
Refrigerate until serving time. Finish off the Champaign.

Do

"Use the talents you possess - the woods would be silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best." Henry Van Dyke

And so I say to all who think…too much
Plan..too long
Wait
Wish… but don’t do
Start it…now

Tic.
Tock

Make a Wish

Lushious fixed a fine dinner of backed chicken and rice, green beans and drippins, rolls, salad and then there was the cake, VeraLee killed that cake, yes she did. It was a fun time.

I'd rather be lickin.....

You know there are just people in your life that make it real. Bubba, Vera Lee’s husband, is one of those.

I know I have written about him, but today is his birthday, (March 19) and I told him that he was just a harbinger of spring…that on this last day of winter, his momma gave forth a howl and there he was…the truth and nothing but the truth, Winter’s last stand…the “Just Mustard-man”.

He’s the backbone of the Friendly Village, just ask anybody. Bubba knows just about everything there is to know and can do everything there is to do. “Call Butch” has been our mantra for nearly twenty years and there’s not one of us that hasn’t benefited from his…brain, brawn, and problem solvin skills.
My water heater is leakin….Call Butch
My car is dead…Call Butch
My pizza dough won’t roll….Call Butch
My mashed potatoes are gooey…Call Butch
How do I know when a 8 pound tenderloin is done…Call Butch
My heart's broken...Call Butch
I need a spare table and chairs…Call Butch
There’s a mouse, bat, possum, raccoon, cat, fly, hornet…. in my house. Call Butch, and tell him to bring his gun!
I need to move a mountain…Call Butch!
You get the picture. Bubba can; set a table, cook a roast, fix my broken watch, pin, or ring, glue china so you can’t see a seam, wire a Christmas light as easy as a whole house. He can fix what's broke and know when to leave it be.
Name a fossil or jus solve the “problems of the world” with my uppity aunt. He's brain and brawn and heart. He’s always there for you…but one time Buck’s momma warned us, "He's a good man, but don’t use him up."

You get the picture, there are at any given time between ten and twelve of us here in the Village and Bubba is the Mayor…always has been and always will be. I can’t tell you how many pounds of meat he’s has cooked for us.

Once, during hurricane season,and I don’t remember which one, but we lost power for five days and were some kind of gritty, evil, and hungry; we all took our food up to Bubba and Vera Lee’s house cause Bubba had the big grill and plenty of chairs.

Well, that man had coffee goin every morning at 7:00 a.m. and then made biscuits, on the grill! We’d gather and talk and smell and fret and leave with a full belly. Didn’t have the nerve to reappear at lunch, but dinner-time we’d bring up something from our defunct freezers for Bubba to throw down and we’d gather again, at the Mayor’s Table to solve the problems of the world and have community. The meat may have been thawin and the lettuce wiltin', but the beer was always cold.

If he got tired of our sorry hungry faces, he never said it. He’d frown sometimes cause it was hot standin over that grill while everybody else was waitin like baby birds to be fed..but he never closed the gate. Only the skeeters ran us off.

Now the “rather be lickin’ a cat’s ass” story is really Vera Lee’s but she’s busy bakin a “Black Forest Cake with butter cream icin’ (Bubba’s fav) so I’ll tell it this time.

We were all old when we finally got up enough money to purchase our “get away’s” . Bubba and Vera Lee bought a great house on the Cape, but it needed lots of elbow grease to git it the way Vera Lee wanted it and if you know Vera Lee, she wanted shiny wood floors, no carpet, and no linoleum allowed under those feet. So when they started rippin up there was all the black goo…glue stuff left behind. So every weekend, meant a tool box filled with varsol, steel wool, and scrapers. Both of um on their knees and butts inhalin varsol and usin the heavy arm to bring out that floor. Well, long about the fifth room in so many weeks, Bubba turned to Vera Lee and he jus said in his strait out way,

“ Damnit, Vera Lee, I’d rather be licking a cat’s ass than be doin this for another minute!”

Now that’s descriptive, that’s honest, and that’s Bubba. I love that story. So when you visit Bubba and Vera Lee at the Cape, and you look down on those floors you know what went into um. You’ll know the kind of man he is. The Mayor don’t let mice run, bats fly, food waste, or friends down. So, Happy Birthday Bubba, we love you man!

Eatin' Orange

I don’t really understand it but when I’m stressed, I just want to eat somethin’ orange. Not "an orange", not something good, orange, like the fruit or the juice, but something, crazy bad orange, like that layer of fat that settles on top of spaghetti sauce when it’s cold. (Okay, that was gross but you git the picture.) I want fat, salty, greasy, orange. I want artificial, day glow, finger stainin’ orange. “The cheese that goes crunch” orange; I want Cheetos, the great pacifier.
Back before I was “re-purposed”, I did indeed create an ode to my Cheeto fixation right there on the wall of my state issued cubical. I pinned every empty bag of Cheetos I ate just where you could see’um prior to enterin’ with some ridiculous paper chase request that meant less than nothing in the great scheme of things as they related to my world.

It was a stressful time of year and I just needed all who entered to see the measure of my madness; the vending machine size, the 100 calorie size, the 99 cent special bag, and then there was the hellova day Family Size bag I’d brought in at 7:00 a.m and emptied by 2:00. They were all there, fallen soldiers, carefully arranged pinned like cellophane voo-doo dolls to my “wall”. By the end of the week my right hand was hopelessly stained by the constant application of yellow dye numbers 3,5, and 8; whey flour and at least 27 additional chemicals used to insure freshness. My tongue and teeth fared no better, my sweaters too were peppered with the remains of the day, a testimony to leaving no crumb behind.

I used to say that Cheetos drowned out the voices in my head,but it went deeper than that; much deeper. I have my own theories, but it’s time for Buck's lunch and I’m thinkin about cheese, hot, greasy, and pressed hard in a fryin’ pan, you know the devil by name and he is Cheese...Grilled Cheese.

(I promise you more about cheese later, cause I want to write about Minna Cheese)