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

No gator tails, uh, tales...

No gater tales or tails, no gator-ade tales either. I wracked my little pea-brain trying to come up with something to contribute but nary a gator of any sort rose to the surface. If things go as they normally will, once we've exhausted gators I'll remember some outrageous tale from the nether regions of my mind.

Ah well.

As wet as it is this day I can easily envision gators wandering around yards, although this is more akin to salamander weather I think.

Do you remember those little tiny frogs that used to come out in the rain? There was a name for those little buggers but I'll be darned if I can remember. If the sun came out too fast we'd find them all dried up on the driveway. Seemed like there would be thousands of them hopping in the puddles sometimes. Now that I've remembered them, I'd surely like to know what they were called. I know we called them rain frogs, but there is another name of some sort. I will hop on over to Google and see if I can dredge it up.

What have ya'll been up to recently? I've been here and there enjoying life. Don't we live in such a beautiful world? Have you ever wondered if it's really that beautiful or if it's just something that we SEE as beautiful because we're accustomed to it? The old beauty is in the eye of the beholder thing. If we were raised on the moon would all these trees and water be ugly to us?

That reminded me of people's tastes in music. From country to country music is so completely different. What sounds like high-pitched screaming to me is beautiful to some in Asian cultures. I don't particularly care for much of the Hip Hop music that is so popular with some, but others love it.

Remember when you were growing up and "our" music was horrible to our parents? The music they listened to as youngsters was abhorrent to their parents.

As usual, my mind is skipping from one subject to another. It's like little firing pins just pinging away, sparking thoughts that may or may not be worth sharing! I used to drive my poor mama crazy yapping away about all kinds of nonsense. I have grown up just a bit and now I keep my mouth shut most days. For some reason when I start writing to my two Mint Julep friends in here some of the flitting, yammering, wide-spread thoughts come a tumbling.

Which reminds me of the time I bought a rock tumbler for my children. It lasted all of one day before I stuck it in a closet never to be pulled out. We were living in a small enough place that there was nowhere to put the noise-maker where we couldn't hear it. We did one batch and that was it. The kids didn't even complain. I mean, how could they after listening to the thing for so long?

We did make a few trips to pan for gold up in Dahlonega, Georgia. Rather easy to see through what they were doing, planting gems in piles of sand. But it entertained the kiddos and thrilled them to no end when they "found" a beauty.

Well, enough rambling for today, I think I might just take a stroll in the rain. I may just be a mite naughty and fix myself a bit of something interesting to drink. I know it may shock you, but I am not in the mood for a mint julep at this moment, I think something a bit more along the lines of a White Russian fits the mood, or maybe just a thimble of Bailey's.

I always enjoy sharing with you gals!
Miss Faye

In-house Sightings

Good grief, Miss Etta. That alligator story - the one in the lake in
north Georgia. Do you ever again swim in a body of water where you
couldn't see the bottom? Just gave me shivers thinking about how close
you've come to alligators who are supposed to be able to move
surprisingly fast when chasing food. Best to run serpentine, I've
always heard, when trying to escape a hungry gator.

My husband's parents had a house down Florida-way where lizards are
known to hang out in droves. When some of his daddy's people from
Pennsylvania spent a week down at that house in Florida, they left a
note on the table saying how much they'd enjoyed their stay and
apologizing for letting the "alligator bug" get inside for a short
while. Alligator bug. Lizard. Get it?

Funny you mentioned this woman who spotted the alligator in her
kitchen. Can you imagine? I sure do hope she was wearing some kind of
shoes. Shoes with good traction for running away.

My grandmother was TERRIFIED of lizards. Living in the country, it
wasn't at all unusual for one of them to come right on in her house,
and when they did, they were treated to pans of hot, boiling water
being tossed in their direction. I have no idea how she came up with
this idea of The Only Sensible Way To Get Rid Of Lizards, but let me
tell you: that woman would drench everything - and i do mean
EVERYTHING - without regard for ruin or cleanup. Drapes, bedspreads,
clothes, furniture, television - nothing was scared when a lizard came
to call. I can still see her standing in the middle of the bed, the
room around her looking like a steam-tornado had come through there.

And I never felt closer to my grandmother than I did last week when I
went to hang up some clothes after taking them out of the dryer. As I
hung them on the clothes rack, out skipped a lizard. I dropped those
clothes and bolted, instinctively heading for the kitchen where I had
every intention of boiling water to toss around. Fortunately, our
laundry room is upstairs, and by the time I got downstairs to the
kitchen, good sense took over. (That and the realization that I'd just
have created a mess that I'd have to clean up once the aforementioned
trespasser was gone.) I opted to just avoid the laundry room the rest
of the day. That night, when I went in to finish fetching the laundry,
I made LOTS of noise to alert the little trespasser of my arrival. I
looked at the hanger-upper rack: no lizard, and I was greatly relieved.

Now why on earth I thought the trespasser would stay in one place is
beyond me, but, as they say, hindsight (or in this case, hindthink) is
20/20. When I went to fetch a clothes hanger, I ALMOST TOUCHED THE
TRESPASSER who was hanging out on the clothes hangers. Makes me shiver
just to think about how close I came to making contact. Sheesh. Called
hubbie, who came up promptly and caught the unwanted visitor then
relocated him to his native territory - outdoors - where I imagine he
is regaling other alligator bugs with tales of this crazy womankind
who he spooked so mightily.

Yep, I just don't have a thing for reptiles, be they at the zoo, live
and in person, or on jewelry, boots, or pocketbooks.

Sheesh.

Later girlfriends,
Miz Vul

Gator Moments

I bet the lady who strolled into her kitchen just the other day to
get a fresh cup of coffee will entertain her family and friends for a
a long time as she recounts the 6 foot, 230 pound gator lounging on
the floor. I guess it was just hungry and decided the smell was just
right for breakfast. I wonder how he got in? It's not like they can
slide under the door. If I was that lady, I'd be sure to gator proof
the doors. Can you imagine the shock and horror, not to mention the
FEAR, when she saw that huge ancient reptilian animal in her
kitchen? What does one say in that situation? "Hey, wanna cup of
joe?" or "If I had known you were coming, I would have gotten you
some chicken?"

What I found really side splitting is the question by the 911
operator. "Are you sure it's not a big lizard?" Big lizard, indeed.
Most people who live in gator country don't have a problem telling a
lizard from a gator. I know I never had any problems with that when
I was down in gator country or at Georgia's Swampland in the south
part of the state.

I've got two personal gator encounters on the tip of my tongue. One
was down in south GA at the Okeefeenokee Swamp about 30 years ago.
We had gone to visit the swamp and learn more of nature. Well, you
know they've got these big gators down there that just kind of roam
around on their own. Roaming around with those beady eyes staring
intently on you. We watched some brain dead parents allow their two
young gator sized meal youngins taunt a big boy. And by big boy, I
don't mean one with two feet. No sir, it was about a 12 or 13 ft
menacing looking gator who was intent on watching the kids. Watching
and slowly stalking the kids. The kids were taunting, the gator was
slowing stalking, and the park rangers were standing there with their
guns on their hips. Well, daddy and my brother's wife were watching
this free show while the rest of us were in the snake house learning
about how dangerous those slithery critters can be.

Meanwhile, the park rangers were trying to get the gator's attention
off of the youngins. Daddy decided it might be best if he and sister-
by-marriage crossed over the bridge to the side where the gator
wasn't. He thought it might be a little safer over there. After
they crossed the bridge, the mightily relieved sweating sister-by-
marriage said she was glad to put some distance between them and the
gator. Daddy, of course, said, "I already did that." When she
looked confused, he continued, "Didn't you notice that I put you
between the gator and me?"

What happened to that gator on that particular day? The park finally
convinced the brain dead parents that the ignoramus youngins had to
leave the area and then the rangers successfully got the gator back
to where they wanted him. We did hear later that the big boy had to
be put down since he was becoming too aggressive with the paying
customers to the swamp. Guess, that would be bad for business and all.

Another gator story that happened a little further north in
Georgia--- still about 30 years ago. There was a state park where
we used to go camping. That was in the days when daddy could
actually get away from the phone. No cell phones, doncha know. We
were camping and had our canoe with us. Daddy and I had taken our
poodle, the one named Killer, on the canoe for a ride and. later, a
swim. The park rangers came upon us on the water. They suggested we
leave the water immediately. Why? Clear blue skies. We weren't
breaking any laws.

It seems as if the original owner of the lake had gone down to
Florida and bought some baby gators back. He stocked his lake with
gators as an effort to keep the locals from trespassing on his land
and fishing in the lake. Now, I don't know when the state acquired
the lake and surrounding area for a state park, however, i do know
the state couldn't touch those gators. Something about endangered
species and all. So, there were these gators between 8-14 feet just
patrolling the lake. Since small dogs are known to be gator bait,
the rangers had us leave the lake. They just didn't want us to
attract the gators and have us end up being their dinner.

We did leave the water, and we did see the gators on shore as we were
heading back to land. I was so upset that we ended up leaving the
waterfront campsite we had. Something about gators visiting us for
dinner, guests or otherwise, made us all a little nervous. The
rangers came by later to tell us they had herded the gators back up
to the north end of the lake.

Now, I wonder HOW did they do that? How does one herd a gator? How
does one get a gator's attention off his intended meal?

I still think they look their best when I'm carrying them on my arm
stuffed with my personal stuff. I think that's a better stuffing for
them.

Enjoy this beautiful weather! I haven't heard of gator hunting
around these parts, have you?

Till later,
Miss Etta