1-800-257-1234. Anyone recognize that number? I grew up during the 60's and 70's in rural Ms. We never had cable TV in our home. It simply wasn't available and as a result we never had more than 3 or 4 TV stations; CBS, NBC, PBS and sometimes ABC. So it was a bit of culture shock when I went off to college and discovered that there was life beyond the networks.
Ted Turner's WTBS opened a whole new world of old movies, sitcom reruns and Atlanta Braves baseball. In those days, WTBS didn't get the traditional advertisers like laundry soap, toilet paper, car manufacturers or Alka Seltzer (plop,plop,fizz,fizz).
Ted made much of his fortune by advertising Ginsu Knives, and forming a symbiotic relationship with Ron Popeil who brought us the Chop-o-Matic, the Pocket Fisherman, Mr. Microphone and the Inside the Shell Egg Scrambler.
In those days,800 numbers were also relatively new and not that common. It seemed every product sold on TV could be purchased by calling 1-800-257-1234. My college roommates and I would make jokes about what we could buy by calling that number and whenever the end of a commercial approached we would mimic the announcer in unison when he said: "Call Now 1-800-257-1234."
Friday, March 4, 2016
I think we've all seen a Beer N Bait store... pretty common here in Mizzippi . But as I was traveling round the state last week, I saw a couple things I had never seen before. Up in the Delta, I ran across a Beer N Meat store where you can buy bulk meat and beer by the case. 50 lbs of assorted meat for $99.99 sold out the backdoor and beer sold up front.
In Vicksburg not far from the River, we found another unique combo: Hair salon and reception hall.
If I ever find a funeral home w a snack bar, I am going in for a look around.
In Vicksburg not far from the River, we found another unique combo: Hair salon and reception hall.
If I ever find a funeral home w a snack bar, I am going in for a look around.
Happy 30th
Last year we both forgot our anniversary – not gonna happen this year as we celebrate our 30th and our daughter’s birthday (for those with questions, same day – different years). We were out for dinner last weekend and someone asked if we were celebrating Valentine’s Day. My response was “after 30 years of marriage, we no longer celebrate- we tolerate.”
Tracy was not amused….. but she’s ok now as she has that toleration thing going for her.
Here’s to 30 years with the love of my life, full of celebration, toleration, admiration, adoration, appreciation and affirmation peppered with consternation, meditation, arbitration, dispensation and the occasional reparation and aberration. There are a few “ations” that are not included here for discretionary reasons.
Tracy was not amused….. but she’s ok now as she has that toleration thing going for her.
Here’s to 30 years with the love of my life, full of celebration, toleration, admiration, adoration, appreciation and affirmation peppered with consternation, meditation, arbitration, dispensation and the occasional reparation and aberration. There are a few “ations” that are not included here for discretionary reasons.
People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
I've never been one who liked to rank things.. the greatest athlete, singer, etc. It always seemed silly to me. I certainly feel that way about literature. As I go back and re-read "To Kill a Mockingbird" I think I can begin to understand her eccentricity about writing and why she never published again til just before her death. Everything she would do for the rest of her life would pale in comparison.
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird
I've never been one who liked to rank things.. the greatest athlete, singer, etc. It always seemed silly to me. I certainly feel that way about literature. As I go back and re-read "To Kill a Mockingbird" I think I can begin to understand her eccentricity about writing and why she never published again til just before her death. Everything she would do for the rest of her life would pale in comparison.
***
On the radio right now, the trials and tribulations of trying to get your dog into an exclusive doggie daycare. And to defeat the label of elitism, premium doggie daycares provide scholarships for those who cannot afford their services.
HOW ABOUT A LITTLE MORE SAUCE WITH THAT WINE
I love food. All you have to do is look at me and it becomes obvious that eating is one of the top three things I like to do. I’ll not say what the other two are but suffice it to say that they can involve food too. But I don’t totally understand the fanaticism that some people have toward certain foods. There are two groups in particular that seemed to have reached a common state of shear madness; wine connoisseurs and barbeque buffs. In the cases of wine or barbeque, it seems that the process and the trappings have taken on much more importance than the products themselves. Talking the right talk & walking the right walk is all important. In other words, the snobs have taken over.
As it was explained to me by a barbeque authority, (Take it for what it’s worth as half the men south of D.C. consider themselves to be an authority on BBQ; the other half are authorities on NASCAR.) the processes of wine tasting and barbeque judging are exactly the same. See it – smell it – taste it – and describe it. The description process being of utmost importance as it says more about you than it does about the product. Simply to say “I like it” or “I hate it” is considered to be in extremely poor taste and an offense to the party involved. A judge of either product must be sufficiently flowery in language and vague in substance to be considered expert. In other words, the best judges are political candidates.
For example, an expert wine taster might describe a wine in this manner: “This vintage comes from a less than robust grape that nevertheless shows high-toned estery, acetate aromas that may be pleasing to some palettes. Its oakness is unquestionable yet leaves an earthiness to be desired by the more liberated connoisseur.” It’s more of a Sandra Bullock than a Kim Kardashian and its lack of dark, mysterious undertones makes it more suitable for less serious occasions.
The judge at a barbeque cook-off would speak in this manner: “Woo- Boy! That there beer-butt chicken‘s got a real twang to it. It’s real obvious that this ol boy used a light beer to stick up that chicken’s butt which gives it a nice airy feel but I woulda tried a full-bodied beer of 5 % alcohol or higher, preferably of Anheuser-Busch distillation. That sauce has a good color & he swabbed it on just about right. Its combination of sweet and heat is darn good but more honey & less brown sugar would have given it more body and a more complex taste. I gave it a good bite but it didn’t bite back. Good enough to make ya slap yore Pappy but not yore Granny.”
What’s really interesting is that these two groups, no matter how different in style, seem to be coming together. Jean Pierre meets Joe Bob. There are wine web sites that have recipes for barbeque, ( calling for a non domestic beer to stick up that chicken) and barbeque sites that give advice on which wine goes best with Billy Don’s Thundering Chicken Thighs, (Mogen David’s fortified Mad Dog 20/20)
I have never understood the desire to make a competition out of doing something that you love. How do you judge something that is so subjective to individual taste? Some people like red; some people like white. Some like sweet and some like hot. Eat and drink what you like in moderation. If it were me, I’d drink the beer, quit messin with that chicken’s butt (that ain’t natural) and throw him on the grill while watching a college football game on TV, another one of the top three things I like to do.
As it was explained to me by a barbeque authority, (Take it for what it’s worth as half the men south of D.C. consider themselves to be an authority on BBQ; the other half are authorities on NASCAR.) the processes of wine tasting and barbeque judging are exactly the same. See it – smell it – taste it – and describe it. The description process being of utmost importance as it says more about you than it does about the product. Simply to say “I like it” or “I hate it” is considered to be in extremely poor taste and an offense to the party involved. A judge of either product must be sufficiently flowery in language and vague in substance to be considered expert. In other words, the best judges are political candidates.
For example, an expert wine taster might describe a wine in this manner: “This vintage comes from a less than robust grape that nevertheless shows high-toned estery, acetate aromas that may be pleasing to some palettes. Its oakness is unquestionable yet leaves an earthiness to be desired by the more liberated connoisseur.” It’s more of a Sandra Bullock than a Kim Kardashian and its lack of dark, mysterious undertones makes it more suitable for less serious occasions.
The judge at a barbeque cook-off would speak in this manner: “Woo- Boy! That there beer-butt chicken‘s got a real twang to it. It’s real obvious that this ol boy used a light beer to stick up that chicken’s butt which gives it a nice airy feel but I woulda tried a full-bodied beer of 5 % alcohol or higher, preferably of Anheuser-Busch distillation. That sauce has a good color & he swabbed it on just about right. Its combination of sweet and heat is darn good but more honey & less brown sugar would have given it more body and a more complex taste. I gave it a good bite but it didn’t bite back. Good enough to make ya slap yore Pappy but not yore Granny.”
What’s really interesting is that these two groups, no matter how different in style, seem to be coming together. Jean Pierre meets Joe Bob. There are wine web sites that have recipes for barbeque, ( calling for a non domestic beer to stick up that chicken) and barbeque sites that give advice on which wine goes best with Billy Don’s Thundering Chicken Thighs, (Mogen David’s fortified Mad Dog 20/20)
I have never understood the desire to make a competition out of doing something that you love. How do you judge something that is so subjective to individual taste? Some people like red; some people like white. Some like sweet and some like hot. Eat and drink what you like in moderation. If it were me, I’d drink the beer, quit messin with that chicken’s butt (that ain’t natural) and throw him on the grill while watching a college football game on TV, another one of the top three things I like to do.
Smokin Skeeters
As I get older, I find myself reminiscing more and more about my childhood. Time seems to almost always minimize the bad and exaggerate the good. That’s probably a good thing and I know that memories are always sweeter than reality.
For the most part, I missed out on the grandparent thing. My grandmothers had died many years before I was born. Life was tough on women – even just a generation or two ago.
I did have an elderly neighbor lady who served in that capacity. Miss Katie lived across the road in my grandfather’s old house. She was always, Miss Katie, even though she was a widow lady. She struggled financially but always produced a good garden and supplemented her income by crocheting a few items for folks who were kind enough to buy them from her.
Summertime was always the best. If my pals, Jimmy or Charlie weren’t around to play army or cowboy and indians, I always seemed to find myself on Katie’s front porch by late afternoon. She had a couple of rockers and a porch swing that suffered from heavy use.
Before any porch sittin’ however, chores had to be done. Lawn mowing was a big job for Katie. She covered over an acre with a push mower and it was usually a two-afternoon process. Sometimes I helped but as I look back, I now realize that I probably didn’t help enough.
By the second day of mowing, the first day’s grass clippings had sufficiently dried to be used for a special purpose.
Sitting on the porch as twilight approached and cooling off after a hard afternoon’s work was a pleasant experience, but only if you were able to keep the gnats and mosquitoes at bay.
Katie had a unique approach to insect control. Smoke would suffice to keep those little buggers away and partially dried grass clippings were perfect to maintain a nice white haze over the porch and the immediate lawn. Katie kept two slop jars on her porch and when it was time to “sit a spell”, I would gather up sufficient clippings to fill the enameled pots and set a slow burn. One slop jar would be placed at each end of the porch. If you don’t know what a slop jar is, ask somebody that’s older than dirt - like me.
Today when I see an old slop jar in an antique store, I immediately think of Katie – probably not the way she would have preferred to be remembered but I doubt she would have minded too much. And the smell of burning grass brings back a memory of a slow, peaceful 1960’s twilight listening to the steady creak of a rocker, the hum of the box fan just inside the screen door and the whine of an old farmer’s decrepit pickup as it fades away with the sunset on an old country road.
For the most part, I missed out on the grandparent thing. My grandmothers had died many years before I was born. Life was tough on women – even just a generation or two ago.
I did have an elderly neighbor lady who served in that capacity. Miss Katie lived across the road in my grandfather’s old house. She was always, Miss Katie, even though she was a widow lady. She struggled financially but always produced a good garden and supplemented her income by crocheting a few items for folks who were kind enough to buy them from her.
Summertime was always the best. If my pals, Jimmy or Charlie weren’t around to play army or cowboy and indians, I always seemed to find myself on Katie’s front porch by late afternoon. She had a couple of rockers and a porch swing that suffered from heavy use.
Before any porch sittin’ however, chores had to be done. Lawn mowing was a big job for Katie. She covered over an acre with a push mower and it was usually a two-afternoon process. Sometimes I helped but as I look back, I now realize that I probably didn’t help enough.
By the second day of mowing, the first day’s grass clippings had sufficiently dried to be used for a special purpose.
Sitting on the porch as twilight approached and cooling off after a hard afternoon’s work was a pleasant experience, but only if you were able to keep the gnats and mosquitoes at bay.
Katie had a unique approach to insect control. Smoke would suffice to keep those little buggers away and partially dried grass clippings were perfect to maintain a nice white haze over the porch and the immediate lawn. Katie kept two slop jars on her porch and when it was time to “sit a spell”, I would gather up sufficient clippings to fill the enameled pots and set a slow burn. One slop jar would be placed at each end of the porch. If you don’t know what a slop jar is, ask somebody that’s older than dirt - like me.
Today when I see an old slop jar in an antique store, I immediately think of Katie – probably not the way she would have preferred to be remembered but I doubt she would have minded too much. And the smell of burning grass brings back a memory of a slow, peaceful 1960’s twilight listening to the steady creak of a rocker, the hum of the box fan just inside the screen door and the whine of an old farmer’s decrepit pickup as it fades away with the sunset on an old country road.
Political opinions popping up this morning like mushrooms on a manure pile.
I wonder if God ever laughs? His sense of humor is without question- slathered in abundance atop all human interactions like whipped cream and sprinkles. But does he giggle,guffaw or roar occasionally with a good belly laugh? And if he does, is it the result of his own pranks upon his human herd or the absurd actions of humanity when left to its own devices?
I wonder if God ever laughs? His sense of humor is without question- slathered in abundance atop all human interactions like whipped cream and sprinkles. But does he giggle,guffaw or roar occasionally with a good belly laugh? And if he does, is it the result of his own pranks upon his human herd or the absurd actions of humanity when left to its own devices?
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