Lazy

My house is messy. I can see the sun shining on dog hair in a couple of spots. It’s not pretty. There are two throw pillows on the floor by Bud’s chair. A plant has dropped a couple of leaves in the garden room. The plants are crying to be fed and watered. The glass table top is smeared.

Then there’s the kitchen table covered with mail. Croc has slopped water and food on the floor. I need to either mop or planr a garden. Something cooked over on the stove. The countertops and sink need scrubbing.

I’ve been devoting myself to whining and haven’t even made the bed yet. I think I might just make my side, so I don’t mess up my lazy streak. It’s such a mess I’m almost proud.

Worst of all, I won’t be able to get any help out of Bud. He’s working on his jeep. If anyone feels like cleaning house, come on over. I’ll make coffee and teacakes. We’ll have a good visit.

Oh well. I’d better get started.

Friendly

What’s the trait you value most about yourself?

I enjoy people. I am open and friendly. I can’t help talking to anyone who catches my interest: oldies, babies, dogs. Sometimes I talk to flowers. “Oh, you pretty thing!” I make a point not to talk to traffic. Bud takes care of that!

Of course I talk to myself. “I’ve got to clean this refrigerator today!” I even talk in my sleep.

Well, Black My Eyes!

This post might not make sense to you if you’re not from the South, but I had a near calamity today.  I had a taste for black eye peas, so I got my trusty cast iron pot out and started washing peas.  Bud made a pass through and nearly swooned with true love when he saw how lovely I looked washing peas, and the garlic, celery, and onion waiting on the chopping block.  There would be unhappiness in our home this evening if no peas and ham were forthcoming.  After seasoning and starting the peas, I went to the freezer to find the meaty hambone I’d squirreled back a couple of weeks ago.  I think to a Southern Cook, the hambone is more important than the ham itself, a delicacy to be hidden from nosey freezer plunderers at all costs.  In fact, I have been known to threaten bodily harm when a home-wrecking guest asked Bud, not me, for the hambone after a meal.  I put a stop to that hussy then and there!

At any rate, the precious hambone has to be retrieved at the perfect point of denuding.  Too much meat on the bone is wasteful.  Too little just leaves the pea soup a bit anemic. I knew I had the most darling hambone hidden away in the freezer awaiting its rendezvous with my peas.  I reached in the freezer for my hambone and found………..nothing!  Well, actually I found ground beef and pork, chicken parts of numerous vintages, several kinds of sausage, vegetables and fruit a plenty, but no hambone.  I panicked.  Earlier in the week, I’d asked Bud to get the frozen meat trimmings and scraps to the trash.  God forbid?  Had he mistaken my foil-wrapped hambone for scraps. Worse yet, had he sneaked it out to another woman? I was almost too shattered to look, but finally found my hambone shoved to the back of the bottom shelf behind a bag of ice.  Never has a hambone been so welcome.  The peas breathed a sigh of relief when I dropped the bone in.

Our marriage was saved.

2 1/2 cups black eyed peas
8 cups water
1/2 tablespoon salt or more to taste
1/4 tablespoon black pepper
1 medium onion (whole)

1/4 c diced celery if desired
Nice hambone

1/4 teaspoon vinegar (or pepper sauce)

Simmer all ingredients in large cooking pot on stove top burner on medium heat. Use cast-iron pot if you have one.

Cook 40-60 minutes or until peas are tender. Do not allow water to evaporate entirely. If peas are dry they will burn quickly.

Serve with hot cornbread

Joke of the Day

A small balding man storms into a local bar and demands, “Gimme a double of the strongest whiskey you got. I’m so mad, I can’t even see straight.” The bartender, noticing that the little man is a bit the worse for wear, pours him a double of Southern Comfort. The man swills down the drink and says, “Gimme another one.” The bartender pours the drink, but says, “Now, before I give you this, why don’t you let off a little steam and tell me why you’re so upset?” So, the man begins his tale. “Well, I was sitting in the bar next door, when this gorgeous blonde slinks in and actually sits beside me at the bar. I thought, “Wow, this has never happened before.” You know, it was kind of a fantasy come true. Well, a couple of minutes later, the blonde leans over and asks if I’d like to come back to her hotel to have dinner and talk for a while. I couldn’t believe this was happening, r and I hadn’t had a good meal in quite a while. I managed to nod my head yes, so she grabs my hand and starts walking out of the bar. This seemed just too good to be true.” He continued, “She took me down the street here to a nice hotel and up to her room. She said to relax, watch some TV, and that she would be ready to go down to the restaurant in a few minutes. But, as soon as I put my feet up and reclined my chair, I heard some keys jingling and someone starts fumbling with the door.” “The blonde says, ‘Oh my god, it’s my boyfriend. He must have lost his wrestling match tonight, he’s gonna be real mad. Quick, hide!'” “So, I opened the closet, but I figured that was probably the first place he would look, so I didn’t hide there. Then I looked under the bed, but no, I figured he’s bound to look there, too. By now, I could hear the key in the lock. I noticed the window was open, so I climbed out and wa s hanging there by my fingers, praying that the guy wouldn’t see me.” The bartender says “Well I can see how you might be a bit frustrated at this point.” “Well, yeah, but I hear the guy finally get the door open and he yells out, ‘Who you been with now, you witch?’ The girl says, ‘Nobody, honey, now calm down.'” Well, the guy starts tearing up the room. I hear him tear the door off the closet and throw it across the room. I’m thinking, ‘Boy, I’m glad I didn’t hide in there.’ Then I hear him lift up the bed and throw it across the room. Good thing I didn’t hide under there either. Then I heard him say, ‘What’s that over there by the window?’ I think, ‘Oh God, I’m dead meat now.’ But, the blonde by now is trying real hard to distract him and convince him to stop looking. Well, I hear the guy go into the bathroom and I hear water running for a long time; I figure maybe he’s gonna take a bath or something, when all of a sudden, the jerk pours a pitcher of scalding hot water out of the window right on top of my head. I mean, look at this, I got second degree burns all over my scalp and shoulders!” The bartender says, “Oh man, that would have gotten me mad for sure.” “No, that didn’t really bother me. Next, the guy starts slamming the window shut over and over on my hands. I mean, look at my fingers. They’re a bloody mess. I can hardly hold onto this glass.” The bartender looks at the guy’s hands and says, “Yeah, buddy, I can understand why you are so upset.” “No, that wasn’t what really got me so angry though.” The bartender then asks in exasperation, “Well, then, what did finally make you anger?” “Well, I was hanging on the window, and I turned around and looked down–I was only about six inches off the ground.”