Red, White and Blue Fits

Didcha enjoy the big holiday yesterday? Didcha remember to honor our fallen soldiers? Didcha shed a few tears? I certainly did.

Why, that ceremony in Peachtree City alone was enough to set me bawling for the whole day. I had to use up all of my white tissues in the hopes my cries were stifled somewhat. I just always seem to find my heart up in my throat in these affairs. I guess it's because I mourn the loss of them all. I guess I just love America so darn much.

Well, that started off the day. I ended up by having some "blue with my red." Yep, nothing finer on a gorgeous day than a nice thick juicy red slab of meat done up on the grill. Add some homemade blue cheese butter and, yummy! The blue cheese just makes the beef taste explode into a mouthful of savory delights.

And, of course, what would a celebration be without my own julep juice? I spent hours getting my julep syrup prepared with just the right amount of sugar. It was pretty good, even if I do say so myself.

Now that the summer is officially here, I expect to hear from my friends. Kinda odd isn't it? Memorial Day starts the summer season even though the calendar doesn't start it until later in June. I think I'll take the Memorial Day start and then end it when the calendar does in late September. I'd much rather have a long summer!

Miss Etta

Off To The Races

Hey friends,

Sorry I've been quiet. I've been off to the races.

Races for time. Races to leisure. Just racing around in circles....

Ya'll have a great Memorial Day Weekend. I saw on the Fayette Front Page the prayer offered by President Bush for this very special day in history. You should check it out.

Look for me on Monday while I'm honoring my family heroes and those of America!

Miss Etta

Life Will Go On, My Friend

Oh Miz Vul,

I am so deeply saddened to hear a friend was a victim of pain. It is
horrible and it just breaks my heart.

I remember a young girl who was also attacked about 40 years ago.
Some said it was because she wore white go-go boots. Some said it
was because she strayed too far from home. Some tried to ignore it.
Some thought she'd just forget about it. Don't think so.

Well, I am here to tell you that it wasn't because of the white go-go
boots. It wasn't because she strayed too far from home. Nope, the
reality was she was riding her bicycle on a hot summer day. The
reality was she was the victim of some young tough's need to
dominate. The reality was she survived. The reality was the young
tough was caught. The reality was it WAS NOT HER FAULT!

I still don't know what happened to the young tough. The last I saw
him was in the back seat of the police car. 'Nuff said.

Surround your friend with love and understanding. Surround her with
hope for the future.

Packing Claxtons

Miss Etta, I HAVE been having a thoughtful day. Been having a string
of them, actually . . .

Somebody I love deeply was recently the victim of a crime. Let's be
real clear about this: a crime was committed against HER. And while
she struggles still to move forward and eventually leave it behind
her, there are these two local women who insist on, as my Daddy used
to say, kicking her while she's down.

Can somebody please explain to me why that is? Why is it that when a
woman is the victim of a crime, some folks insist on making her the
CRIMINAL, too?

I was talking to Janet Dunn the other day, you know, the editor of
FayetteFrontPage.com, and she said that more people subscribe to the
helping hands blog than any other blog. Now that's good: people are
wanting to help other people, and lord knows there are plenty of folks
needing help these days.

It's good to share food and clothes and household items with those in
need. It's fantastic to help folks put together a resume and find a
good job. But what about helping individual people you run into while
you're out and about? What about folks you know who might be in need
of something as seemingly simple as kindness - maybe a hug the next
time you see them, maybe a quick email to say thinking about you,
maybe just a genuine heartfelt smile? Random acts of kindness are
fantastic, and I encourage them, but let's don't ever, ever, ever lose
sight of DELIBERATE acts of kindness Let's never forget that some
folks, maybe even most folks we see on any given day are carrying
around some kind of emotional need.

I tell you what: I think when a woman is the victim of a crime, we
ought to hold hands, form a large circle around her and say to no-
gooders "How DARE you." and "Don't even think about bothering her
right now." and to her: "Sugar, is there anything I can do?" and "Can
I get you anything?" Maybe even take her to get her hair and nails
done 'cause we all know that makes a girl feel so much better.

Yes, I think we ought to do things like that, NOT take potshots at HER
and throw rocks at HER. So what if an attractive young woman was in a
restaurant/bar? So what if she was wearing a sun dress (not a halter
dress, a sundress)? So what if she was wearing black patent leather
pumps? So what if she has long blonde hair? So what if she is drop
dead gorgeous? Does that make the crime HER fault? Don't women (and
men, too, but I'm talking about women right now) have the right to be
safe when they go out? Don't they have the right to go to a public
place to socialize with friends? Don't they have a right to wear black
patent leather pumps and lipstick?

Woman's inhumanity to woman . . . where does that come from?

If I live to be 1128-and-a-half years old, I will NEVER understand
this, fellow julep-sippers. It's a language I have never and will
never, by golly, become fluent in, this women spitting and slapping
and backbiting and hissing at other women.

What ever happened to EMPATHY?

I have tried to be philosophical about this, girls. Really I have. I
understand that people like to find meaning in everything (though I
surely can't see how re-victimizing the victim finds meaning in a damn
thing), and I know that thinking is a dying art (don't even get me
started - another subject for another day, girls). I know that black
and white type stuff is preferable cause it's so much easier to think
about and move on, but really: how much of life is that simple? Gray
is a color near and dear to my Southern, Confederate heart, and let's
face it: most of life is lived in the gray. Gray is, in my never-to-be-
persuaded-otherwise opinion, a wonderful, delicious, rich color that's
filled with possibilities and room to think and be individuals.

You know, my mother had this sister who gave Claxton fruitcakes as
Christmas gifts every single year. She'd drive on down to Claxton and
fill up the back of her car during the After-Christmas Claxton
Fruitcake Sale. Then she'd bring them babies home and load up her
freezer with them. In her mind, it was perfect: she saved money,
finished her shopping way early, and she never once forgot where she
stashed the bought-early gifts. (Personally, I always wondered if her
husband - the DENTIST - didn't pay for them out of his marketing
account, thereby saving/making even more money. Did you ever bite into
a year-old frozen Claxton fruicake???)

Now, Miss Etta, I know you mentioned Claxton fruitcakes a week or so
ago, and I mean no disrespect when I tell you that over the past
several weeks, I have fantasized more times than I can count about
hurling some of those year-old, frozen Claxton fruitcakes at a couple
of local womenfolk in hopes of knocking some sense in their heads.

If only I were licensed to carry Claxtons.

But I'm not, so I'm going on back to the front porch to swing and sip
something a wee bit (okay, a pretty good bit) (okay, a LOT) stronger
than a julep. Helps me think.

Miz Vul

Morning Reflections and Observations

It's been real quiet on my porch lately. Guess I'm alright with the solitude as it has given me time to reflect and observe. This morning while I was sitting on the porch drinking my daily dose of caffeine and wondering about what to do for the day, my eyes were suddenly drawn to a duel.

It's the kind of duel where we mothers shudder our shoulders when we see it. A little baby was abducted. Now, before you go running to the phone to put out an all points bulletin-- wait to see what I have to say.

The commotion all started when the young mother took off for her morning work-- providing breakfast for her babies. They were all squalling up a storm, when all of a sudden-- a big swoop dove in. Yep, a red tailed hawk who lives back behind my house was also looking for his breakfast and spotted it.

He swooped right in and started tugging the little baby bird right out of the nest. He was pulling and the other babies were really crying at this point. It got the mama's attention. She comes flying in a very quick speed. Why, it was probably faster than Superman could have done it.

The hawk, with his breakfast secured in his claws, takes off. The mama bird chases him. She is yelling and saying all kinds of bad things about that intruder. Alas, she returned back to her nest empty clawed. No baby rescued.

Will she mourn the little tyke who had not had time to spread his little wings and fly? Will she stay closer to home to protect the others who are still in her nest? Now, I ponder while I finish the morning coffee.

Nature is fascinating to observe. Guess that is what I'll do today. What else will I see while I wait for my friends to show up?

Have a thoughtful day.

Miss Etta

Official Mint Julep Day

It's Mint Julep Day! This is the weekend in history that made mint
juleps famous! Did you hear? They made $1000 mint juleps today at
the Derby. Outrageous!

It was for a great cause-- something to do with retired race horses.

Bet it would have been a treat. Bet it would have been extra
special. Oh well, I guess I just have to enjoy my own recipe today.

Hey Miss Faye- I saw your mint patch the other day. Can't wait for
it to come in. Maybe we can come up with a worthy cause for our mint
juleps!

Miss Etta

Here Snakey, Snakey

Sitting on my front porch watching life is one of my favorite things
to do. I really enjoy my old creaky rocker, especially when I have a
tall icy glass of mint julep to sip. I sit and relax and well, just
observe. Today, I watched as my kitty observed his prey, and watched
as kitty played with his prey.

Kitty's prey was a slithery thing. You know, one of those things
that makes me go "yuk". So there was absolutely no way I was gonna
interfere with that game!

Kinda reminds me of several memories which are stuck way back in the
nether regions of my head. It gets really hard to pull out these
memories as they are stuck in the "yuk" category. However, since it
is May Day and I have nothing to do but enjoy it, I will take a
deeper look-see in there and see what pops up.

You gals ever go to a Rattlesnake Roundup? Now I don't mean the kind
nowadays where they have crafts, dances and who-knows-what-going-on.
I mean the kind they used to have 30 years ago. The kind where the
brave hunters showcased their dead prey on their mailboxes. What?
You never ever saw rattlesnakes hanging on the mailbox?

Way back when, down in south Georgia down around the Claxton area,
that was a common sight in the spring. You would just be driving
along minding your own beeswax when you would start passing all those
houses with rattlesnakes hanging on the mailbox. Guess it was so
everyone could see how many you killed and how big they were. Before
you go running off the porch in sheer terror, remember that those bad
boys could really be a menace to a farmer.

Yeah, I know. Claxton is also famous for those fruitcakes. Wonder
what they put in them?

You gals have a great day now. Oh, and by the way, kitty's new
friend was a small copperhead. Yep, kitty can play that game any ole
time he wants.

Miss Etta