memoir

Fluffy, the Species Confused Chicken

My little sisters, Connie and Marilyn, raised their baby chick, Fluffy, in a cloth-lined box in the living room. He spent his nights in their room, going to sleep as soon as they covered his sweet, little head. He woke them early in the morning, peeping around looking for them. Cleaning up after him wasn’t really a big problem while he was a tiny chick. Fluffy spent his days with them, peeping and later clucking, right behind them.

As he got older, naturally he ate more, and made bigger messes, and was ushered outdoors. From then on , he longed for the warm times he’d shared with his “real family.” He ran to Connie and Marilyn as soon as they came outdoors, never leaving their sides. When they went in for meals or for the night, he hopped up the nearest window ledge and watched them mournfully. Thankfully, when his hormones kicked in, Fluffy noticed the lovely hens in our flock, and Connie and Marilyn were history. He didn’t even give them a look when they walked outdoors.

However, as Fluffy matured, he did suffer some social confusion. He quit yearning for the girl’s company, but he did not like them for them to ride Sugar, their horse, with a saddle. He had no problem with bareback riding, but when they saddled up to ride, he ran along beside Sugar, jumping up to attack the saddle. They had to run Sugar to get away from his crazed attacks.

Daddy had a mixed-breed dog who was especially aggressive when hunting wild hogs, grabbing them by the ear and wrestling them to the ground. He had never behaved aggressively toward people, but Daddy was concerned about the possibility, so he kept Sutter penned in a big pen with a snug doghouse. He hung a heavy burlap bag over the open door to shield his dog from the cold and wet. Sutter loved his doghouse and lay proudly with only his head sticking out in wintery weather. One night in the spring, during a heavy thunderstorm, we heard howling from Sutter’s pen. Daddy checked on his fine dog and found that Fluffy had faced him off and stood proudly in the door, dry as dust, while Sutter stood crying in the rain. Daddy was disgusted and left them to work it out.

 

It’s My Party

WC
Uncle Jerry drank a little. In fact, Uncle Jerry never drew a sober breath from the time he cashed his paycheck at the liquor store on Friday after work until he got back to the shop on Mondays with a killer hangover. One time he told Bud, “I get paid today and I gotta get drunk. I had the flu all week and feel so bad I cain’t hardly drag. I shore dread it.”
Bud, who’d never been initiated into drinking at the time asked, “Uncle Jerry, if you feel so bad, why do you HAVE to get drunk? Can’t you take a weekend off?”
“Oh no!” Uncle Jerry told him. “I always stay drunk on the weekends.”
He must have been concerned about his reputation. He was Aunt Myrtle’s second husband. At the time I knew them, they’d been married over forty years. If Aunt Myrtle stuck by Uncle Jerry, I can’t imagine what her first husband must have put her through.
Mother went over to visit Aunt Myrtle one Thursday morning, not realizing Uncle Jerry was on vacation. They went out to the garden first to admire Aunt Myrtle’s tomatoes and the green beans that were starting to put out, picking a few for Mother. When they made their way into the kitchen, they encountered Uncle Jerry down on his hands and knees in front of the icebox (not refrigerator). He’d pulled the drawer out and was eating onions and turnips raw with the garden dirt still clinging to them. Considering it was Uncle Jerry, neither one said anything.
He looked up at them and remarked. “This is my icebox and I’ll eat anything I G__ D____ please.” They got their coffee and took it out to drink in the shade.
“Don’t let Jerry worry you none. I forgot to tell you Jerry was on vacation when I told you to come over to get tomatoes,” noted Aunt Myrtle.
“Oh, that’s okay. It is his icebox after all,” Mother replied.

Chicken Poop Tea For Two

Why don’t men just say what they mean?  Bud and I have been married forever and I still don’t know how he thinks most of the time.  You need a little history here.  My niece generously gave me a garbage bag full of chicken poop.  I’d been coveting her chicken poop for a while, but hated to come right out and ask for it.  If you’re not a gardener, you probably have no idea what a precious gift chicken poop is.  Ferns love it.  There is nothing better than a delicious dose of chicken poop tea for your flowers and vegetables.  They practically slurp when they get their weekly dose and seem to fairly jump up.  I hurried home with my prize before she could regret it, with the intention of making myself a big batch of chicken poop tea.  I dug around is Bud’s shop and found a nice five gallon bucket.  He agreed I could use it.  It never occurred to me to mention what I wanted it for.

I divided that precious poop between that bucket and one of my own and filled both three-quarters full, covered them and left them to steep, one on the front porch and the other near the back patio.  In a week or so, I had a strong brew.  The lid prevented the smell from permeating the area.  It was potent.  I doused my ferns and other hungry plants weekly.  They loved it, competing to green up and put on new growth.  Adding water each use kept it coming.  The stuff was all I hoped it would be.

Then Bud started badgering.  “When are you gonna pour that stuff out?  It stinks!”  You can’t keep it here in that bucket.”

I wasn’t getting rid of it.  “Hannah, gave me this.  I need it for my plants.  I’ll move it away from the patio, but I’m not getting rid of it!”

”That s—— stinks.!  You need to pour it out.” He had the nerve to actually call it s—-!

”I’m not pouring it out!”  He stomped off.  He better have the good sense not to mess with my chicken poop tea! 

This went on for three years.  Several times a summer, we discussed my tea.  He never quite had the nerve to dump it, though he threatened several times.  That was a wise decision.  Chicken poop doesn’t grow on trees.  By now, this was prime stuff, very valuable to me.

This May, we were having guests.  I was fatigued, having spent several days getting ready.  Bud started up again, seeing my weakness.  “What are you gonna do with this bucket of s—-?”

I lost my resolve.  “I guess I’ll  throw it out!”  I thought he’d be ashamed and stop me.  He didn’t!  I gave my plants a final treat and emptied the buckets on my compost heap.

Yesterday as we dawdled over Sunday coffee in his shop, I spied that same blue five gallon bucket by Bud’s saw, full of lumber scraps.  “Is that THE bucket?  I didn’t think you’d still use it after it stood full of chicken poop for three years.”

”Why sure.  It’s a good bucket.  Why do you think I wanted it back?”

“You mean all that complaining was over the bucket, not the chicken poop?”

”Well, yeah.  It’s a good bucket.  I needed it back.”

”Why in the world didn’t you tell me?  I would have gotten you another bucket and kept my chicken poop? Buckets are cheap!  Chicken poop is priceless!”  Was this the same man who agreed to share all his worldly goods only forty-eight years ago?  I guess that didn’t include “good buckets.”

Chcken s——-!

My patio

 

 

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.”

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

Funniest for You

imageimageimageimageimageimageimageStopping to ask directions at a house at dinnertime, I was invited in to eat with the family. When I asked what they were having, I was told southern fried possum.
I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t hungry, but replied that I had always heard opossum tasted just like chicken.
The cook told me it should because it ate 13 of her chickens before ending up in the frying pan.

~~~~~

Sign seen on a Taxidermist’s window: “We really know our stuff.”

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Seen on a T-Shirt:
Moosehead
A great beer and a new experience for a moose
~~~~~
The Old Man and The Beaver

A 110-year-old man is having his annual checkup. The doctor asks him how he’s feeling.
“I’ve never felt better,” he replies. I’ve got an eighteen-year-old bride who’s pregnant with my child. What do you think about that?”
The doctor thinks for a moment and says, “Let me tell you a story. I know a guy who’s an avid hunter. He never misses a season but one day he’s in a bit of a hurry and accidentally grabs his umbrella instead of his gun. So, he’s walking in the woods near a creek and suddenly spots a beaver in some brush in front of him. He raises his umbrella, points it at the beaver, squeezes the handle, and BAM! the beaver drops dead in front of him.”
That’s impossible,” said the old man in disbelief, “someone else must have shot that beaver!”
“Exactly”, said the doctor.

~~~~~

Mumba Snake

A guy was visiting his friend in the hospital who was “all torn up.” “What happened?” he asked.
“Well, we were hunting the Mumba snake. It has yellow and black stripes. It likes to sun itself lying across a pathway in the jungle. You catch it by grabbing the tip of its tail with one hand and quickly running your other hand up the length of its body so you can grab it behind the neck.”
“Go on,” the friend said.
“Well, I sneaked up to the tail laying across the jungle path, grabbed it by the end, and rapidly moved my other hand upward … just as the procedure goes.”
“So why are you so beaten up?” the friend asked.
“Did you ever *goose* a tiger?”

~~~~~

Top five signs you’ve hired the wrong hunting guide:

5. Your guide blows into big sea shell horn to attract game and a bunch of Vikings show up instead.
4. Your guide is completely outfitted with “Barney” camping equipment.
3. As you close in on a deer, your guide whispers in an Elmer Fudd voice, “Be vehhwey vehhwey quiet.”
2. He calls trees by their first names.
And the number one sign you’ve hired the wrong hunting guide:
1. He is prone to scream, “Run, Bambi, RUN!”

~~~~~

Anyone who is mistaken for a moose and shot, is probably better off anyway.t

~~~~~

Did you hear about the guy who went elephant hunting and ended up in the hospital?
He got a hernia carrying the decoys.

~~~~~

What’s the difference between beer nuts and deer nuts?
Beer Nuts are around a dollar seventy-nine, and deer nuts are just under a buck!

~~~~~

~~~~~

A group of friends went deer hunting and paired off in twos for the day. That night, one of the hunters returned alone, staggering under the weight of an eight-point buck.
“Where’s Henry?”
“Henry had a stroke of some kind. He’s a couple of miles back up the trail.”
“You left Henry laying out there and carried the deer back!?!”
“A tough call,” nodded the hunter, “but I figured no one is going to steal Henry.”

~~~~~

Two guys go hunting. Jerry has never gone hunting while Joe has hunted all his life. When they get to the northern Wisconsin woods, Joe tells Jerry to sit by a tree and not make a sound while Joe checks out a deer stand.
When he gets about a quarter of a mile away, Joe hears a blood-curdling scream. He rushes back to Jerry and yells, “I thought I told you to be quiet!”
Jerry says, “Hey, I tried. I really tried!! When those snakes crawled over me, I didn’t make a sound. When that bear was breathing down my neck, I didn’t make a peep. But when those two chipmunks crawled up my pants leg and said – ‘Should we take them with us or eat them here?’, I couldn’t keep quiet any more!”

~~~~~

Two hunters went moose hunting every winter without success. Finally they came up with a foolproof plan. They got a very authentic cow moose costume and learned the mating call of a cow moose.
The plan was to hide in the costume, lure the bull, then come out of the costume and shoot the bull. They set themselves up on the edge of a clearing, donned their costume and began to give the moose love call.
Before long their call was answered as a bull came crashing out of the forest and into the clearing. When the bull was close enough, the guy in front said, “OK, lets get out and get him.”
After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the guy in the back shouted, “The zipper is stuck! What are we going to do!?”
After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the guy in the back shouted, “The zipper is stuck! What are we going to do!?”
The guy in the front says, “Well, I’m going to start nibbling grass, but you’d better brace yourself.

Joke of the Day/Tips for Moving South

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1. Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed later how to use it.

2. If you forget a Southerner’s name, refer to him (or her) as “Bubba”. You have a 75% chance of being right.

3. Just because you can drive on snow and ice does not mean we can. Stay home the two days of the year it snows.

4. If you do run your car into a ditch, don’t panic. Four men in the cab of a four wheel drive with a 12-pack of beer and a tow chain will be along shortly. Don’t try to help them. Just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.

5. Don’t be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store.

6. Do not buy food at the movie store.

7. If it can’t be fried in bacon grease, it ain’t worth cooking, let alone eating.

8. Remember: “Y’all” is singular. “All y’all” is plural. “All y’all’s” is plural possessive.

9. There is nothing sillier than a Northerner imitating a southern accent, unless it is a southerner imitating a Boston accent.

10. Get used to hearing, “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

11. People walk slower here.

12. Don’t be worried that you don’t understand anyone. They don’t understand you either.

13. The first Southern expression to creep into a transplanted Northerner’s vocabulary is the adjective “Big ol'”, as in “big ol’ truck” or “big ol’ boy”. Eighty-five percent begin their new southern influenced dialect with this expression. One hundred percent are in denial about it.

14. The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.

15. Be advised: The “He needed killin'” defense is valid here.

16. If attending a funeral in the South, remember, we stay until the last shovel of dirt is thrown on and the tent is torn down.

17. If you hear a Southerner exclaim, “Hey, y’all, watch this!” stay out of his way. These are likely the last words he will ever say.

18. Most Southerners do not use turn signals, and they ignore those who do. In fact, if you see a signal blinking on a car with a southern license plate, you may rest assured that it was on when the car was purchased.

19. Northerners can be identified by the spit on the inside of their car’s windshield that comes from yelling at other drivers.

20. The winter wardrobe you always brought out in September can wait until November.

21. If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the most minuscule accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It does not matter if you need anything from the store, it is just something you’re supposed to do.

22. Satellite dishes are very popular in the South. When you purchase one, it is to be positioned directly in front of your trailer. This is logical, bearing in mind that the dish cost considerably more than the trailer and should, therefore, be displayed.

23. Tornadoes and Southerners going through a divorce have a lot in common. In either case, you know someone is going to lose a trailer.

24. Florida is not considered a southern state. There are far more Yankees than Southerners living there.

25. In southern churches you will hear the hymn, “All Glory, Laud and Honor”. You will also hear expressions such as, “Laud, Have mercy”, “Good Laud”, and “Laudy, Laudy, Laudy”.

26. As you are cursing the person driving 15 mph in a 55 mph zone, directly in the middle of the road, remember, many folks learned to drive on a model of vehicle known as John Deere, and this is the proper speed and lane position for the vehicle.

27. You can ask a Southerner for directions, but unless you already know the positions of key hills, trees, rocks, and where buildings used to stand, you’re better off trying to find it yourself.

Top Doctor Jokes That Will Leave You in Stitches

“Doctor, doctor!  Come quick. Little Johnny just swallowed a razor-blade.”
“Don’t panic, I’m coming immediately. Have you done anything yet?”
“Yea, I shaved with the electric razor.”

“Doctor, doctor, You’ve got to help me!  I just can’t stop my hands from shaking!”
“Uh oh!  Do you drink a lot?”
“I try, but I spill most of it!”

“Doctor, doctor, will I be able to play the violin after the operation?”
“Yes, of course…”
“Great! I never could before!”

A man speaks frantically into the phone, “My wife is pregnant, and her contractions are five minutes apart!”
“Calm down.  Is this her first child?” the doctor queries.
“No, you idiot!” the man shouts. “This is her husband!”

Three of the Deadlies

Tragically, three pastors and their wives were killed in a crash on the way home from a conference.  They found themselves standing before Saint Peter.  Saint Peter addressed the first pastor as he looked in his book.

“Well, I see here you lived a pretty good life.  You worked hard for your church.  You were faithful, but there’s one thing I need to look into further.  Your love of money got in your way.  In fact, you loved money so much you even married a woman named Penny.  Just have a seat over there while I do a little more checking.”

The second pastor came forward.  Saint Peter addressed him.  “You were a faithful pastor.  You served well except for one flaw.  Your love of alcohol caused you some problems.  You loved alcohol so much, you even married a woman named Sherry.  Have a seat over there while I do some balancing.”

The third pastor turned to his wife.  “Come on Fanny.  There’s no use in us even getting in line.”