I had another 15 minutes of fame yesterday.Frances and I were at Big Springs Park feeding the ducks with the kids--actually I should say we were at the park with the kids, feeding the ducks. And so....This group of 4 spanish oriented people were hovering around and I didn't pay much attention until one stopped and greeted me, then I smiled, said hello and went back to joyfully hurling bread in every direction. (my fan base of ducks and pigeons didn't take to kindly to any lapse of attention on my part). I have never tried much to communicate with people who don't have a clue what I'm saying, so I don't know how I would act if I were to try, but I have noticed this about the spanish persuasion... They will speak as rapidly in their native language as possible, all the while with a huge smile and sweeping gestures that they are sure are the ultimate translator. SO....I notice that this one little man is grinning and gesturing to beat the band. Me: Oh, Hi again! Yes, HI! Hello Good Day--Your picture? You want me to take your picture?Him: (obviously understanding the word "picture", Nods vigorously and makes sweeping motions with his hands.)Well, I thought he wanted me to take a picture of him and his group, turns out he wanted a picture of me and him. HA! O--KAAAY...if it cranks your tractor.Me: Oh, you mean you want a picture of ME and you?Him: Much enthusiastic head nodding, lots of words I didn't EVEN understand and Amiga.Turns out the whole group-three men and one woman, wanted their picture with me. They wanted individual pictures and group pictures, they wanted sitting down pictures and standing up pictures. So here I am, all my 5'6" glory, and not a one of them over 5 foot, having a serious photo shoot that would have put portrait innovations to shame.I learned that they were from Guatemala. Like this-Him:rapid spanish"Guatemala"rapid spanish head nod head nod expansive gestureMe: Oh, you're from Guatemala?Him: eyes light up vigorous nod "You America?"Me: That's me-America.YES!!We have Communication!! No gift of tongues needed!So about fifteen pictures later, they bid me a fond farewell and went happily off into the sunset and I went back to duck feeding--feeling just a little bit culturally enriched.
Chicken dressing and Memories
Today, for the first time , I understood my Mawmaw's chicken and dressing. Now I know this sounds strange, as you wonder what there is to understand about chicken dressing, except maybe to understand why some people even like it. Chicken dressing was always center of the important family dinners, we just never did without it. As far back as I remember family dinners, I remember Mawmaw's chicken dressing. My Mawmaw always made it--I don't think I ever remember anyone else doing it. And I always loved it. Loved it.We lost my Mawmaw to cancer about 5 years ago, and I still miss her terribly. She called me "sissy " and I miss hearing her say that, along with "I love you, too "and "I'll see you tomorrow". It's such a hard thing to know that you will never "see someone tomorrow" again.Since she's been gone, I've sort of taken over the chicken dressing making part of dinners. That's what I was doing this morning--I sat down at the table to pick apart the whole chicken that I had--I usually cheat and just use chicken breasts, but this time I decided to be "authentic" and do it like Mawmaw. I wondered how on earth I was going to get enough meat off that scrawny looking chicken for a whole pan of dressing. I started in anyways, pulling here, scraping there and doing my best to get every last morsel of meat off the bone.It was then that my mind went back to those much loved pans of dressing from my childhood and I could hardly see to pick chicken for the tears...I could just see my Mawmaw on her limited income sitting down to dedicate her time to picking every last scrap of meat off the bone-always coming up with enough chicken for her pan. Those pieces of chicken that as a child I would peer at doubtfully, wondering at their worthiness to appear in the dressing were explained to me as I dug through MY chicken. Those darker pieces of meat with the little bit of fat adds the best flavor to the dressing. The redder pieces were the ones closest to the bone--not undercooked as I previously thought, that's just the color there. The pieces of gristle that I so detest, I'm sure Mawmaw did too, and tried her best to get them out, but sometimes you miss some. Those cool little round shaped pieces of chicken were from a pocket on the thigh and those long thick white ones were from the breast. Even though I never actually did see her make it, I can just picture those wrinkled, sweet old hands working with that chicken with the thought of everyone enjoying the food later. I learned alot this morning I guess--about how to pick a chicken and what is where on one, how much love (and sometimes tears) goes into a pan of dressing and how much I really do miss my Mawmaw.
Sad Blogging Habits
I have been a terrible blogger here lately, and I could give a million or at least 7 reasons why, but I'll spare everyone. Mostly I've been busy doing things. Not to mention it seems I have absolutely nothing to say. But since it's getting warm outside I guess I'll be doing more so I can say more. Here's a few pics of our fishing day with Mike. I am not a fisherman, I am a catcherman. This means that if fish are not fighting over who will bite my "minner" first, then I am done for the day. At least until I see someone else have some luck, then I might try again. This fishing trip I spent the first 3 hours with only my nose poking out of a quilt. When it finally warmed up, I fished about 3 minutes, and with no bites I started a book--45 minutes later I finished a book, then took a nap, saw a bald eagle and lots of wood ducks and caught one fish. Mike did let me drive the boat around, which I did full throttle yard-saling style. It was a good day and Mike was happy with me for going with him.
