If you’re like me, you have trouble some days getting into the spirit of the conversation. Try spicing up the talk around the office.
At the office today, the topic around the water cooler was: What was the worst meal you have ever eaten?
Without hesitation Susan was the first to chime in. “I’ve had pickled squid” and it tasted just like it sounds.” Dianna admitted to eating alligator and it was not good. Frog legs and she would pass on them again. Duckling and it was horrible. But she loved the escargot.
Ronnie admitted eating groundhog, snapping turtle, quail, goose, opossum, and raccoon. He also said he tried these foods back in his drinking days. He wasn’t sure he would try them sober. Terry admitted eating the rattle snake at Rustler’s Roste in Arizona and he had the t-shirt to prove it..but he wouldn’t eat it again.
“Once, at a Chinese wedding,” Lisa hesitated..…perhaps trying to choose her words carefully. “I tried shark fin soup..it was slimy. Fried duck skin…just the skin, no meat…oh and octopus… that were still moving. When we left the wedding reception we stopped at McDonalds.”
Jim’s answer was simple. “I had a meatloaf made from Special K cereal and it was gross. Pam admitted she has eaten: rabbit, venison, bear, squirrel, frog legs, ostrich and turtle. “But the strangest thing was the sweetbreads which were the pancreas and glands of a calf. All that served in a puffed pastry shell. And it did not taste like chicken.”
The panic look on Betty took us by surprise, “I’ve had nutria meat and I would not recommend it”. To be honest I had to google it after she walked away. Really Betty..…you ate a giant swamp rat?
Yet to the question, “What was the worst meal…. Larry was quick to answer. “Each meal I ever ate at my mother-in-law’s house.”
Now that’s an all together different subject for tomorrow.
Happy Saint Patrick Day! One day in the year that a great deal of people can celebrate their Irish Heritage. You will see shamrocks and people wearing the traditional green at more than one party. What makes the typical American turn Irish for one day?
Celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day could be an excuse for a day to celebrate after the winter blahs. It could be the corned beef and cabbage. Maybe just maybe it’s the green beer.
With warmer days not too far away, we will be able to plant the garden. Maybe Mother Nature knows best. Yes, there are signs of tulips popping out in the front yard. Hello Spring !
The road maintenance crews are busy, working on the streets before it’s too late for your automobile. County roads are lined with hubcaps lost by passing motorists while ruts in the road wreak havoc with car suspension. I can’t say for certain how deep the chuckholes are but I have heard that if you look in one of the massive chuckholes on the way to Linton you can see the top of a Jeep Cherokee that has been reported missing.
You have to feel sorry for folks who go to Florida at this time of year. No comparison could be drawn to any climate on earth that compares to Indiana’s first blush of spring. A few days from now those daffodils that defy any remaining cold weather will jump up out of your long silent lawn.
Yes, the promise of spring in Indiana has no equal anywhere.
The fascination of the holiday season is that Christmas is a time to treasure all the magical events of the past and hope for the joy of the future.
For my family, the most favorable memories that relate with the holiday are childhood memories. We also share the memories of our loved ones no longer with us.
There was great uncle Mount, who would come for Christmas dinner and then give each of the children a two dollar bill. My Aunt Edith would always stop by soon after we had finished our meal. She would say she didn’t come to eat but she filled the plate that my mother would get her. She would then tell of how many other houses she had visited that day.
Remembering the holiday season of past years, we clearly shared happy times. Our family gathered around the dinner table. A snowman stood outside the living room window. Giggles coming from the back room as the young children were busy playing games. Happy voices filled each room. The scent of the fresh evergreen tree blended in with the kitchen smell of freshly baked pecan pie.
I will always have the memory of the holidays with my parents. They knew the spirit of love and goodwill. There was the Christmas morning I ran to see my easy bake oven on which there was a typed note. It said simply: “Have your daddy finish putting this together … Santa is in a hurry.”
In our house, we will make this holiday season another joyous year–one to join the memories of holidays past.
Greenwood Indiana residents have capitalized on the mild weather this past weekend. There was a lady out sun bathing. Although it was nice weather I wondered if she would get more of a wind burn than a sun burn. There were children out playing and riding bikes. Residents opted to wash automobiles or go for a walk. Sunday, you could hear the lawn mowers throughout the different neighborhoods.
All this and I opted to stay home for I have a visit from the flu bug.
The flu bug–you know what illness I speak of. The traditional flu symptoms: loss of appetite, fever, achiness. Then there is the terrible fatigue.
I have no desire to work or play and want to nap repeatedly. I’ve looked at every magazine in the house. The television volume hurts my head and now my eyes hurt so I can’t read the newspaper. Going outside is out of the question. Any near future of energy is impossible. I simply remain under the afghan in a prone position on the couch.
The hubby being healthy around me is irritating. How can he have escaped this dreaded bug? His smile makes me aggravated. He suggests a visit to the clinic. I snarl. It takes no medical degree to know that I should get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids. He smiles, leaves the room with a bounce that I find a tad annoying. He could at least fake a slight cough.
Any amount of effort leaves me exhausted. No hot tea or sports drink have any effect. I feel more sapped than before.
Tomorrow I will set forth to work. Not so much because of dedication but rather I’m tired of simply being with myself.
Halloween is a uniquely magical time of the year. Children turn into adults. Adults turn into children.
Halloween past was spent with my three nephews. With only a flashlight the three kids dressed as ghosts were shuffled from one house and on to the next. By the end of the evening each bag was filled to capacity. What other time of year could a kid load up on a mountain of candy and other teeth rotting goodies?
“Whatcha gonna be for Halloween this year,” is a dilemma for children this time of year.
Little girls opt for costumes like an angel, or a princess. Cheerleaders and Cinderella are popular as well as the Ice Queen Elsa or perhaps a teeny bopper (complete with a poodle skirt).
Young boys want a costume that makes a statement. A zombie maybe a vampire. Costumes like a Count Dracula, or Sorcerer Harry Potter are typical. Perhaps dressed as Batman, or Pokémon, even a pro football player (complete only with an agent)
All the little skeletons, ghosts and goblins will come out of the closet this Halloween. So, get ready to have a spooky good time October 31st.
When the neighborhood kids come to say “Trick or Treat” be prepared to see a variety of costumes. This is the best part about Halloween–a kid can be whatever he wants to be.
As friends relived old times during the course of last evening the subject of nicknames arose. So, I started scribbling them down — which is basically what I intended to build this column around.
I went to school with Carla whose nickname was Hurricane. While in grade school, there was an actual Hurricane that made the headlines in Texas called Hurricane Carla. She brought the newspaper to school and everyone called her Hurricane from then on.
Moose got his nickname while playing high school football. A nickname the coach gave him. What if the coach hadn’t liked his players? What other animals would he have used? A weasel perhaps?
Tiny, was a kid in high school who stood over six feet five inches. Yes he was the tallest kid in school and played center on the basketball team.
One friend has the least original nickname ever. He has natural red hair and his nickname is “Red”. My friend Charlotte goes by the nickname Char. Simple idea really, like we don’t have to use both syllables when we call her name.
At times, nicknames make perfect sense and sometimes they do not.
My cousin’s name is William and he goes by the name Will.
Yet another cousin, Michael, answers to the nickname Ronnie.