Cozy Alert

Ah. Gotta tell you, Miss Faye, that I'm getting quite concerned
about your well being and all. You keep on talking about t.p.
issues. Now, I know that such an enterprising gal as yourself can
figure out what to do in case of emergency while you are indisposed.
In the woods, use a big leaf. In the house, get a cozy!

Doncha remember those wonderful t.p. cozies that were in every
bathroom decades ago? I remember the one my mama had, and the one my
grandma had, and the one my aunt had, and the ones at my friends'
houses. Why, they came in most any color! They were crocheted or
knitted and had a cute little plastic head on them. When the t.p.
was put under the cozy, why, the effect was just beautiful. It
looked like a full skirt that the southern belles would have worn
during Scarlet's reign. Doncha remember?

Doncha have one? If not, I'm hereby declaring a state of emergency
here in Fayette County! We must bring back the t.p. cozy so poor
Miss Faye doesn't have to scurry around under the bathroom cabinets
when she finds herself in need, again.

What color cozy do you fancy? I'm sure someone still knows how to
make those t.p. cozies around here.

Miss Etta

Once again, a step behind

Miss Etta and Miz Vul,

You two had some interesting children. My little ones were tame in comparison. No baby powder tales to tell on this end. Now if you want to talk about toilet paper mummies, I can match you tale for tale!

I discovered their newest venture the hard way --- sitting on the toilet after a much needed fast run to get there. I realized the roll was empty, opened the cabinet door to find some more to find the cupboard was bare.

Difficult time to realize we'd run out of toilet paper, something we NEVER did in our often haphazard home. The children were outside, I was alone, thus was able to scoot to the other bathroom to find a roll.

None there either.

Good thing there are Kleenex!

Not too long after that my little "mummies", along with a few friends, came groaning scarily into the house. Guess who yours truly scared in return?

I would love to relive some of those days with the mindset I have now. Did you find that you fussed about things that really, in retrospect, didn't deserve to be fussed about? And worried about things that mattered little in the scheme of things? Today if those same little mummies came wandering in the door I'd grab some of the toilet paper and join in the fun!

Age brings such wisdom. It's a shame we have children when we're still babies ourselves. We think we are so grown-up at whatever age we happen to be.

I am so proud to be getting younger every day! The joys of growing older and throwing off so many of those restrictions we put on ourselves and that we let others put on us! I don't know how my little ones turned out to be such good children. They don't seem to have any of my fears and concerns about society's "rules".

Miss Faye

Me, too!

Oh, Miss Etta, my children did the same thing with the baby powder!
It's a memory that has become a bona fide family legend and a prized
picture to boot. There we were, working in the kitchen one fine day
when my daughter (who had just learned to walk) motioned for my boy
(who had just learned to crawl) to follow her, and out they went on a
sibling adventure. I breathed a sigh of gladdened gratitude:
gladdenment 'cause it made my heart smile that they were bonding and
enjoying each other and gratitude 'cause I was gonna' have a few
minutes by myself in the kitchen. (Looking back on it, that would've
been a fine time to try some of your Kahlua-nog.)

But there wouldn't've been time 'cause as it turned out, there
weren't nearly enough blissful minutes that had elapsed before I did
just like you did: I noticed the quiet, sensed trouble, and let me
tell you, I didn't have to go very far at all to find it. Just down
the hall in daughter's bedroom there they were, just like you found
your children: both of them covered in white powder. Only way I could
tell the children from everything else in the room was from the
giggling. When I said something and let them know I was there, my
daughter turned around, smiled from ear to ear, and raised her hands
triumphantly. The boy was sitting in the rocking chair giggling
delightedly. They were powerful - or should I say POWDERful? Not only
had they made snow, they'd made it in the middle of July. And without
their mama's help or intrusion, whichever the case may be.

After the photography session ended, I took 'em outside and let 'em
run through the sprinkler to get cleaned up. (Don't remember a single
thing about cleaning the room, though. It's nice the way my brain
takes such good care of me sometimes by remembering only the good
things and dropping everything else. More and more, though, it seems
to be putting darn near everything in that dropping-off pile.)

Isn't it funny the fine line that separates quiet of the pleasurable,
highly-prized, never-get-enough variety from the oh-no-trouble's-
brewing variety? I guess you're right: it can't be anything but that
inexplicable and aren't-we-glad-we-have-it-even-if-they-wish-we-
didn't-and-by-the-way,-it-never-goes-away Mama Radar that can tell
the difference. It's a forced to be reckoned with, I tell you. It is,
it is.

Y'all ever make snow ice cream? That's the only thing I hate about
dodging these weather bullets: I miss my snow ice cream. Found some
in the grocery store. Mayfields. (The ice cream brand, not the
grocery store.) It's good, but not nearly as good as fresh homemade
snow ice cream. (Some say I oughta listen to the politicians and not
eat any snow that comes from a globally-warmed sky carrying toxic
waste and other things that are bad for you, but hey.)

Now that my chillun are grow up and moved out, I think I'll go in
search of some Kahlua and enjoy a few quiet minutes this fine afternoon.

Or maybe some julep juice.

Either one'll do.

Till next time,

Miz Vul

No Show Snow and Eggnog

Mornin' my friends,

There it was on the six o'clock news last Friday. Snow and sleet forecasted again for our area. That was like the third time in 10 days. There I was, eagerly watching the radar screen to see if it would get here in time for more snowman building in the morning. Went to bed. Woke up-- no show snow.

As I was grumbling about not having a pretty front yard again, I got to thinking. And, then I got to laughing. Do you remember what it was like to have youngins in the house? It was always quite noisy, and that was a good sign.

When it got quiet for a spell, the old mama brain radar would sound and off. I'd go to seek and find. I remember one time when the mama radar went off. It was just too quiet for toddlers in the house. Well, guess what! They were quiet for a reason.

I went upstairs to be greeted by shouts of joy. "Look, mama," they shouted. "We're snowmen."

Snowmen indeed. They were covered in white---- white baby powder, that is. The oldest had climbed up on the bed and reached way over to the top of the dresser. She grabbed the baby powder and turned everyone, and everything, into snowmen. They were just so proud. Me? Not so proud.

After cleaning them up, I spent several hours trying to clean up all the "snow" which had fallen in the baby's room. As I recall, that room smelled like baby powder until the day we moved!

So, even though the weather radar ending up being quiet over the weekend, I spent many moments in happy snow memories.

Tried something new this morning. I decided I needed some eggnog before it went completely out of season. Since it really is too early to add the julep juice, I opted on adding a dash of Kahlua. Mmmmmmmmmmmm. So, I think I'll go sip on my eggnog and dream of snow and the days of the mama radar.

Talk with you later,

Miss Etta

Redundancy

Hey girls,

Miss Faye, seems to me that "nasty politics" sure is a fine example of redundancy. I've got a buncha kin folks who have run for office - all of 'em running successfully, regardless of how the vote count turned out. You know what I always say: when it comes to politics, sometimes the loser is the biggest winner.

If anybody happens to ask me (and it happens on the rare occasion), I tell 'em to run on the state or national level 'cause it's been my experience that the hometown folks remember every single little thing - and they hold onto a grudge like it was a bar of gold. As a rule, folks just don't seem to pay nearly as much attention to what's going on outside their backyard.

'Course the odd thing is that I've also found that people want to run for something on the local level 'cause they care about where they live and they want to have a positive impact on what goes on there. I can't explain it, I just know it's so.

I don't know. I just don't know.

I synonymize (I just made that word up, dontchaknow) power with politics, and power just does things to people. And it doesn't matter whether you win or lose the election 'cause let's face it: there's power in name recognition alone. It's like I've always said: Money (or you can substitute the word "power") brings out the BEST in people.

I say that and most people don't even pay any attention. They're so used to hearing folks say "Money brings out the WORST in people" that they just think they know what I said. But then I get the occasional person who realizes how I changed it and they either (a) correct me like I'm some moron who doesn't know a cliche from a voting booth or (b) ignore it completely or (c) ask me what on earth am I talking about. And since I can tell you girls are of the #c variety, I'm gonna' tell you that what I'm talking about is this: when people have money, they can either keep it to themselves and just go on being a nice person or they can try to make other people it that money without even salting it first. Me, I prefer what's behind door #a: they just keep right on being a nice, friendly, upstanding person, keeping their bank account balance to themselves.

I've got some other relatives who chose my preferred route. They lived well beneath their means, and when it came time that I had to take a more active role in their lives, that's when I found out just how far beneath their means they were living. It was interesting (we'll just choose to go with that word, though there are a host of other words running through my brain right now) watching how people treated this one relative in particular. She was old and lived in a plain house and drove an old, old, old car and had teeth that made her look British, and while a lot of people were kind to her, there were way, way, way, way too many who treated her with disdain - like they had "power" over her because she was old and looked so poor. Oh, if they only knew.

If they only knew.

It was kinda' entertaining, I must say. Was like watching The Emperor's New Clothes play out again and again. Them parading around like an emperor with their nose in the air like they were wearing clothes they knew she wished she had, when actually they were parading around buck nekkid and hairy.

But I'll tell you one thing that's The Honest Truth: it's nice having rich folks as ancestors.

Especially when they're nice, honest, loving, fun, good people who like to laugh, too.

Till next time,

Miz Vul

Nasty politics

Miss Etta, I used to think that politics just kept getting nastier and nastier until I took a gander at politics of old. I have decided there is something inside a person who is ambitious enough to want to be in a top role that brings out the fight in them.

Those two squabbling Democrats on that debate the other night made me think of two cats fighting over a piece of fish. Old Edwards tried to make out like he was above it all, but you just listen to some of the other things he has to say. You can't change a skunk's stripes.

Politics is rather interesting but I find tangling with day to day life difficult and mind-straining enough. That doesn't mean I am not strongly tuned to all that is going on, but I get so frustrated trying to figure it all out. They posture and preen and who knows if they mean what they say? Then the press twists it and turns it around and black becomes white.

I just do the best I can. I will always make sure to vote. I simply do not understand how someone can ignore that precious gift our fore-fathers gave to us. Did you read about those votes in Cuba? No one had any opposition at all! Why even bother getting up and going to vote? I guess down there they have to go vote or they'll end up in jail somewhere.

Enough on politics. It is a fine day and I do not want to clutter my mind with all their doings.

It is cold, but the sun is shining and I think I am going to find reason to get outdoors. Chances are I will skitter back in faster than a cat with its tail on fire, but I will attempt it just the same. Speaking of cats, did you see that funny picture of the cat in the snow on the Fayette Front Page? I wish I had been quick enough to think about taking some pictures.

I don't know where Miz Vul took off to but I sure wish she would visit again.

Miss Faye

Me Thinks They Doth Protest Too Much

Do you remember growing up in the time where manners and truth meant something? Do you remember what it was like to get caught in a not so truthful story? Kinda like when mama would ask who ate the last chocolate cookie? Sometimes, I would just stand there and with an oh so innocent look on my face say, "not me." She would ask again. Again I would deny. Then she would point out that I had chocolate around my mouth. Oops. Learned real fast to keep my face clean. Learned real fast what happened when I was caught.

And then the mama talks about not saying anything at all if I couldn't find something nice to say. Boy, did I have to work on keeping my trap shut. Is that why I am so very quiet now? Sometimes, it just is too hard to find something nice to say.

The last couple of days have been real interesting, yessiree. It seems like those squabbling Democratic candidates aren't from around here or else they didn't learn their lessons at all. Why, mama would have taken care of those two long ago.

It would appear that the candidates are really getting ready to have fistfights based on the way they acted at that debate the other night. They keep on pointing fingers and trying to get the last word in about what he said or she said.

Haven't they heard of video? It's just so easy for the general public to find what was really said or not said. And this last round is really making the candidates less than desirable, in my
book. Wouldn't a potential leader know that they need to be able to back up those accusations with facts, and not fantasy? Looks like they've been caught with the tell tell chocolate syrup on their faces. Looks like their mamas should have taught them some manners on what to do in polite company.

Uncle had a saying about verbal warfare. He would say, "Me thinks the lady doth protest too much." In simple words, keep on denying and hurtling back and lose all credibility. Once again, in my life, it was a lesson hard learned-- but I learned how to keep quiet.

Better to let sister or cousin take the heat.

You know Miss Vul, I bet your grandpa would have really enjoyed watching today's version of verbal wrestling. Even you might have been persuaded to stop counting cars and start counting those stories. I might even have to miss an episode of Perry just to catch the latest round in this battle.

Miss Etta

I declare I am getting senile

I titled my last entry "Squishy Squash" and plum forgot to put anything in there about squash. I am not old enough to be senile and not blond enough to be called ditsy, so I have no excuse.

My intention was to talk the other "southern" favorite. My hips are a testament to the fact that I have the southern fried food affinity affliction. I love my fried squash but, like my aversion to boiled okra, I can not stand it stewed.

I love to add squash to bread recipes though. I had thought I might use your okra bread recipe Miss Etta and try substituting some squash.

I like to take that jiffy mix cornbread mix and fry it up like a pancake. Add a bit of sugar to the batter and it is absolutely delicious. Fry it up and you have the two weight-devils in one batch for a good breakfast. I used to slather it with butter and syrup but all those years of fried foods, sweets and sugar laden desserts now keep me from the sin of butter sadly.

When I am old I will wear purple and I will eat all the fried foods, desserts and breads covered in butter that I want. Until then, I diet and abstain.

I'm off for good this time!
Miss Faye

Squishy Squash

Miss Etta that okra bread sound interesting so I think I may just skitter round to the local food store and buy all the fixings. It might be good with some corn tossed into the mix, too. I never have been one to leave well enough alone, although I prefer to think of it as adding my own touch to every little thing. As they say, I make it my own.

With this crazy weather I don't know if I should be making chili or eating watermelon. Only in Georgia can you find weather that can't make up its mind from day to day.

And yes, Miz Vul, although you have come new to our little front porch, you are missed already when you don't add your two cents worth to our discussions. Looking for a yoga dvd is not excuse enough to ignore us unless you happen to get tied up in some knot while doing one of those crazy contortions. Just how does it make you relax to twist a leg behind your neck? I tried some classes and I kept falling over. The only animal that should practice standing with one leg in the air is a dog.

I am short on time but did want to at least say hello. I will try to catch up later this evening if life permits.

Miss Faye

Old Enough to Be Young

My, my. My face is turning red as yours should be, Miss Faye. Just know that I'm too young to be this old.

I recall when I was a child that my sister was only one year older than me. Apparently time passed by more quickly for her than for me because she has a child who is old enough to make her a grandma. Me? I'm much too young for any of that nonsense. I even told her so recently, too.

Speaking of age, one time my youngins asked me what it was like living with the dinosaurs. I told them they shouldn't call their father names! Hmmmmmppppphhhhhhh.

Okra Bread is so simple to make, although I'm not sure if I should share the recipe with you, after asking me a question that no polite southern gal would ask anyone Lawd, next you'll be trying to figure a way to get me to say it by asking who was the first president I voted for. Just know, it was a one term winner. Ok-- here it goes... Take another sip of Julep Juice and sit down so you don't miss it. I'm, oh, about...

Okra Bread

1 c. chopped fresh okra

1 c. chopped onions

2 eggs
1 c. chopped fresh tomatoes (or one can of tomatoes, drained)
1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix
Salt and pepper to taste

Mix above ingredients until it sticks together with muffin mix. Pour into greased pan. Dot with butter and bake at 375 degrees for 30-45 minutes or until brown.

Talk to you later. I've got to stop and have some more Julep Juice.

Miss Etta