List five things you do for fun.
I do several things I enjoy. Reading is on the top of the list. I also enjoy my WordPress time. I like to crochet. I enjoy spending time with my dogs and cooking.
Author: lbeth1950
Clothilde: A Family Name Battle
I was almost named Clothilde. (KLO-TEEL. It would have been a source of constant torment to be named Clothilde. (It wouldn’t have taken mean kids long to rename me Kotex.) Daddy tried to hang that horrendous name on my three sisters,too. No matter what heinous deed my mother may have committed or may commit in the future, I forgive her because she stuck up for me when it really mattered. Daddy was raised in North Louisiana during the deepest of the Depression, one of seven pitiful children always on the brink of starvation. His father either rented a farm or sharecropped when he couldn’t manage rent. He died young leaving a widow and family. Daddy didn’t speak often about his family’s situation, but occasionally slipped up and revealed the difficulties they suffered. They were a troubled family, economically and socially and moved frequently.
As an adult, Daddy patterned himself on Mr. Ward, a prosperous landlord he knew as a child. I am grateful Mr. Ward provided Daddy a good role model, except for one small problem. Mr. Ward had a lovely daughter named Clothilde. Her hideous name threatened all girl children in Daddy’s bloodline. He was set on Clothilde for Phyllis, his first born daughter. Normally, Mother acquiesced to Daddy in most things, but this time she put her foot down. No Clothilde!!!!! Daddy contented himself with naming the baby “Phyllis,” after an old girlfriend holding Clothilde in reserve for the next daughter. Three years later, I came along. “Clothilde” was the first word out of his mouth when he saw me. Thank God, Mother didn’t die in childbirth. Again, Mother stuck to her guns, so I got Linda. Daughter number three might have been his last chance. Even though Mother had had a long and difficult labor, she rose from her childbed, vanquished Clothilde, and named the baby Connie. Not expecting another opportunity, he lost hope. A little more than a year later, his fourth and last daughter joined the family. Hopefully, he asked Mother, “You wouldn’t want to name her Clothilde, would you?” Her name is Marilyn. We thought that was the end of the story. Recently, my brother’s oldest daughter revealed the final chapter. “Mom told me something funny. When she was pregnant, Papa asked her to name me Clothilde.”
Not now!
If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?
My mastiff mix, Croc, is probably near ten. Until fairly recently, he never woke me to go out. He seemed to have a bladder the size of a soccer ball. Quite often, he dawdled about till after eight before asking to go out. Now he wakes me up between for and five. Fortunately for Bud in this instance, he’s deaf in one ear. Croc comes after me first. He gently kisses my foot or arm to wake me. There’s no hope of reprieve. I’m getting up. He goes out alone for about five minutes. I’m back in bed in minutes.
Homemade Banana Pudding
- 2 ⅔ cups white sugar
- 1 ⅓ cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 12 large eggs, beaten
- 8 cups milk
- 8 tablespoons butter, softened
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 8 -10 bananas, peeled and sliced
- 2 (12 ounce) package vanilla wafer cookies
Whipped Cream for topping
Layer a large dish with alternating layers of vanilla wafers and thinly sliced bananas.
Whip twelve eggs till well beaten.
Add to all other ingredients except vanilla to large kettle and mix well. Cook on low to medium heat stirring CONSTANTLY to avoid sticking. Frequently scrape bottom of pan to avoid scorching till you bring to full boil. When it starts to thicken, remove from heat and whip in vanilla. Pour pudding mixture over cookie and banana layers. Chill and garnish with whipped cream.
Alternative old-fashioned meringue topping: Separate egg whites and yellows. Use yellows in pudding. Whip whites till stiff. Whip in 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar and 1/2 cup granulated sugar. Should form stiff peaks when layered on pudding. Toast under broiler 1-2 minutes watching constantly to brown. Do not walk away. It will burn! Chill
One of my aunts used to make a huge banana pudding in a dishpan when we had a family gathering. I can’t image what her recipe was. One of Bud’s cousins pulled a funny when they hosted a meal at their home. His wife put him in charge of desserts. He asked every woman in the crowd to bring banana pudding. We had plenty!
My Name
Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.
From Behindthename
Meaning & History
Originally a medieval short form of Germanic names containing the element lind meaning “soft, flexible, tender”(Proto-Germanic *linþaz). It also coincides with the Spanish and Portuguese word linda meaning “beautiful”. In the English-speaking world this name experienced a spike in popularity beginning in the 1930s, peaking in the late 1940s, and declining shortly after that. It was the most popular name for girls in the United States from 1947 to 1952.
i was always in a crowd of Lindas, Glendas,Brendas, Belindas, and even one unfortunate Bewinda. Should a girl in my age group miss out on one of those trendy names, she had a good chance of being Janice, Janis, or Patricia. Even so, I was glad not to have the name my dad tried to saddle me with, Clothilde. (Clotile)
Banana Pudding Bowl Blasphemy
See this innocuous-looking dish. It doesn’t look like it could break up a marriage, but you just wait. Bud chose this dish when he and his sisters divided his mother’s belongings shortly after her death. He brought it home, showed it to me, and told it was what she’d always made banana pudding in. Not realizing the significance of that statement, I callously baked a chicken in it less than a week later.. He came in, was delighted to see “The Banana Pudding Bowl” sitting on the stove. He attempted to lift the lid to admire the pudding and burned his fingers. I never heard such howling and deprecations before or since. I came to understand that bowl was only for banana pudding
SYLVIA: Hi! Wanda.
WANDA: Hi! Sylvia. How’d you die?
SYLVIA: I froze to death.
WANDA: How horrible!
SYLVIA: It wasn’t so bad. After Iquit shaking from the cold, I began to get warm & sleepy, and finally died a peaceful death. What about you?
WANDA: I died of a massive heart attack. I suspected that my husband was cheating, so I came home early to catch him in the act. But instead, I found him all by himself in the den watching TV.
SYLVIA: So, what happened?
WANDA: I was so sure there was another woman there somewhere that I started running all over the house looking. I ran up into the attic and searched, and down into the basement. Then I went through every closet and checked under all the beds. I kept this up until I had looked everywhere, and finally I became so exhausted that I just keeled over with a heart attack and died.
SYLVIA: Too bad you didn’t look in the freezer -we’d both still be alive!
A friend was in front of me coming out of church one day, and the preacher was standing at the door as he always is to shake hands. He grabbed my friend by the hand and pulled him aside.
The Pastor said to him, “You need to join the Army of the Lord!”
My friend replied, “I’m already in the Army of the Lord, Pastor.”
Pastor questioned, “How come I don’t see you except at Christmas and Easter?”
He whispered back, “I’m in the secret service.”
What’s Your Religion?
I was walking across a bridge one day, and I saw a man standing on the edge, about to jump off. I immediately ran over and said “Stop! Don’t do it!”
“Why shouldn’t I?” he said.
I said, “Well, there’s so much to live for!”
“Like what?”
“Well … are you religious or atheist?”
“Religious.”
“Me too! Are you Christian or Jewish?”
“Christian.”
“Me too! Are you Catholic or Protestant?”
“Protestant.”
“Me too! Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?”
“Baptist.”
“Wow! Me too! Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the Lord?”
“Baptist Church of God.”
“Me too! Are you Original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed Baptist Church of God?”
“Reformed Baptist Church of God.”
“Me too! Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1879, or Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?”
“Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!”
To which I said, “Die, heretic scum!” and pushed him off”
Dream Job
What’s your dream job?
My dream job would be working in a bookstore as a book consultant for a couple of hours Wednesday afternoons of my choice.
The Bear, the Princess, and the Hearing Aid
Papa Bear doted on his only daughter, Princess Bear, who was not only beautiful, but sweet, gentle, and wise. He adored her, trying hard to give her all she needed for a good life. He rocked her, ran behind her on her bicycle to catch her, lest she fall, dried her tears, and brushed her long, curly fur, never tugging at tangles. He tucked her in at night, dreading the day she’d leave his cave.
One day, his lovely Princess Bear ventured out into the wood. Young bears started to coming to pay court to her. Papa Bear asked, “Please bring your friends home to meet me.” Of course, she didn’t really care for the idea, but since she loved Papa Bear, and he was so kind, she did as he asked.
One evening, she brought yet another young bear to the cave to meet Papa Bear. “Pleased to meet you, Sir. I’ll have her home by eleven.” He said in an extraordinarily nicey, nice bear voice.
“Grrrrr.” said Papa Bear. “I’ll be waiting for you at nine-thirty.” They were home at nine-twenty eight.
“I didn’t really like him,” said the Princess Bear the next morning. “Something about him was a unbearable.”
“Oh, well,” said Papa Bear. “Sometimes that just happens.”
In a few minutes, there was a knock at the cave door. “I don’t want to see you again. Don’t call on me anymore.” Princess Bear closed the door.
Seconds later, a second knock sounded. “I told you. I don’t want to see you again!” Papa Bear was right behind his little Princess, not the sound of any of it.
He asked her, “Is that young bear bothering you? At her nod, he stepped from behind her, speaking to the pushy young bear, quite gruffly. “Princess Bear doesn’t ever want to see you or speak to you again. Now, if you’re having trouble understanding that, I’ll be happy to meet you in the woods and explain it!”
The young bear understood Papa Bear perfectly. He had just needed a hearing aid.
Nutsrok 