"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."---Mark Twain

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Downtown Fairy Ring

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

A fairy ring, also known as fairy circle, elf circle, elf ring[1] or pixie ring, is a naturally occurring ring or arc of mushrooms.    The rings may grow to over 10 metres (33 ft) in diameter, and they become stable over time as the fungus grows and seeks food underground.

They are found mainly in forested areas, but also appear in grasslands or rangelands. Fairy rings are detectable by sporocarps in rings or arcs, as well as by a necrotic zone (dead grass), or a ring of dark green grass. A fungus, mycelium, is likely to be present in the ring or arc underneath.

It's more fun to think it has something to do with fairys.    I'm pretty sure that fairies do not dance at this intersection in the middle of the night.   I actually HAVE danced in this intersection.    And I was sober.

I have tried to find a full fairy ring for the last two years and this is as close as I can get.    This one occurs in a median strip in the middle of town and I got this shot on my mail run.

Fish Fry

I mentioned in the last post that I looooove to fish for gar.    So far, I have caught exactly ONE.    The best methods are illegal, and I figure that if anyone is goin' to get popped by Game and Fish, it will be me.    I try my luck legally, and get skunked every time.    The one I caught I caught by accident because I was set up for bream, and it was amazing that the fish didn't snap the line-----lots of sharp teeth in that snout!
     This is my son-in-law with a gar that he caught.    This is a big fish, but gar can grow to a huge size:
Some people eat these, but they are too boney for me to fool with.    You can slice 'em into steaks (fried or grilled) and pick bones all night long, or you can grind it up in a food processor, bones and all, and make gar patties.    But not in my kitchen.

Now, THIS is probably my favorite fishing in The Whole Wide World!    Call 'em bowfin, grindle, or mudfish, this fish will fight like you won't believe!    Ex and I caught one on a jug hook that pulled us and a six foot boat all over the pond we were in.

We ran across an older lady who was fishing on the bank one day at a local lake and asked her if they were good to eat, and if so, how do you prepare them?
     Yes, they are tasty, but you have to clean them like other fish and soak them in ice water and vinegar FOR THREE DAYS so they can bleed out.    Then you grind 'em up, make patties, and fry 'em.     Oh Hell no.     This is another bones-and-all meal deal that I cannot abide.   I don't eat salmon patties for the same reason.     Makes me queasy and if I crunch bones supper is OVER.    Captain D.'s does a good fish sandwich should a hankerin' overcome me.
     We gave her the bowfin we caught and she was tickled to death to have the thing.    She crammed that thing----over two foot long----into a five gallon bucket, dropped the lid on the bucket, sat down on the bucket, and went back to fishin'.     We did not have fish for supper.

This is a bream/panfish/stump-knocker/bluegill:

Fun to catch and the main ingredient in a bream sandwich as mentioned in the last post.   
    We lived way out in the country for a few years, and we had a pond to fish, and it was full of these.    We fed 'em and they became more like pets than groceries.    Throw a handful of dog chow into the water and the water would boil like it was full of piranhas.They say that piranha is considered good eatin' in some parts of the world.    I will never know.   

I know about softshell turtles and that won't happen again.   They say that there are seven different flavors in a softshell turtle.   All of them are bad but I know people who grew up with that delicacy and will fight over one.

Lampus eels:   damn anything that still bleeds after you fry it crisp.   The cooler it gets, the more it bleeds.    Again, I know folks who love 'em.

Alligator tail tastes like a porkchop fried in fish grease, but tryin' it for the first time at a county fair was probably not the best way to experience it. 

Just pass the grits my way and I'll take a pass on the rest.    Where's the sweet tea?

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Chicken Breath And Bream Sammiches

We are having a chuck roast for supper.     I can put a mean scald on a chuck roast, and whip up a decent gravy.

After a couple of days of fast food and hot dogs that chuck roast will be good.

Sammiches are a great idea, and Bless the first soul who had the idea.

What's Cooking America's website says:

"1st Century B.C. -The first recorded sandwich was by the famous rabbi, Hillel the Elder, who lived during the 1st century B.C. He started the Passover custom of sandwiching a mixture of chopped nuts, apples, spices, and wine between two matzohs to eat with bitter herbs. The filling between the matzohs served as a reminder of the suffering of the Jews before their deliverance from Egypt and represented the mortar used by the Jews in their forced labor of constructing Egyptian buildings. Because he was the first known person to do this, and because of his influence and stature in Palestinian Judaism, this practice was added to the Seder and the Hillel Sandwich was named after him."

Gotta love copy and paste............

Like I say about some other people, I "ain't from around here".    I wasn't born in Georgia, I was born in Florida, and there were some.....uhhh......differences that I had to get used to.

Whilst waiting in line at a local diner, I heard a customer order a "chicken breath" sandwich.

Chicken  breath.........BREATH?

How do you batter and fry chicken breath?????

How in the Hell do you grab it in the first place???

Does it come in a jar like peanut butter or Nutella???

It actually reminded me of the old "catch that and paint it purple" fart joke from years ago.

Of course, they were just mispronouncing the word "breast".

I mentioned it once and was told what a chicken breast sandwich actually is.

Take a whole fried chicken breast, BONES AND ALL, slap it between two pieces of bread (use a bun if you feel snooty) with your condiment of choice and eat it BONES AND ALL.

Did you just flash on the recent KFC commercials where folks think they ate the bones and they freak out? 

I asked what did one do with the bones?    Surely they weren't swallowing the bones?

Nope.    When you get a mouthful of bones you spit it out.

Need to throw up?   I'll wait..........

Feel better?   I can ruin that, too.

Ever have a bream sammich?     

Take a whole bream, scale it, whack off the head, gut it, batter it with cornmeal and fry it crisp.

Leave the fins on.    Fried fins stickin' out of a sandwich give the sandwich that certain something, doncha think?

Fix it up like the chicken breath sammich and you are in business!

Do I partake?    Oh heck no!   

And to tell the truth, I think I just killed my own appetite.

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Rabbit Sheriff

My world has taken another nasty little twist, and since I'd rather not deal with it today, I'll tell y'all a story instead!

While out and about with the husband Friday, we crossed a bridge over a small creek. T-Bird pointed it out and it reminded me of a little fishin' trip.

This same little spot that we crossed over on Friday used to be a real sweet hole to fish. Bream like you would not believe. And gar. I prefer to fish for the fight, not for the groceries. If we catch it, of course, that means fish for supper, but it's the fight that I really get off on. That's why I like to fish for catfish, gars, and mudfish.

If they are taking the hook I am happy. A Happy Hooker, of sorts.

We had been told that the bream were biting, and we both like to fish, so off we went, armed with crickets. We weren't playin' around.

We parked the truck on the side of the road and grabbed up an arm-load of gear apiece. I make a good pack-mule on fishing and hunting trips. Unlike my ex, T-Bird DOES help carry stuff.

At the bottom of the hill, below the bridge, the ground turned to muck. Black, smelly, sticky, gooshie, sucky muck. Covered in white bird feathers. It must have been a BIIIIIG bird, as the ground was covered with big feathers. Nice touch.

Cypress knees stuck up through the mud and feathers, which made walking through the mud that much harder. If I tripped and fell in the mud, the trip was gonna be over. And we slogged through this for several yards to get to a shady bend in the creek. We had mud half-way up our calves and it was the kind of mud that sucks your shoes off of your feet. And remember, it smells BAD.

It was so worth it! They were biting as soon as the cricket hit the water, and they were big fish! We were well on our way to filling up a 5-gallon bucket.

And there were gar!!!!!! But we didn't have any luck with those. Not for lack of trying! If you fish, you know all about hope and trying.

We saw the green truck when it come creepin' across the bridge.

The Game Warden.   Rabbit Sheriff.    Possum Police.

He was "fishin'", too.

We had all of our papers in order and kept on catching fish. He took a stroll down the other side of the bridge to check out two men who were fishing there. Then he crossed to our side.

I guess that the other side of the bridge was dry, and not much of a struggle to get down to because he was immaculate.

Not a hair out of place.
Trousers with razor-sharp creases, ending at perfect cuffs.
Brass shining in the sun.
No sweat stains.
Shiny black shoes.
Big smile when he started down the hill.

Big sigh when he got to the bottom, when he got to the mud.

I watched him look down at his shoes and just shake his head. Not smiling now.    I kinda felt sorry for him, so I said to T. that we may as well go meet him so he could check out the licenses and gun permit, and he wouldn't have to go through the mud.

T. replied that since we had to walk in it, he had to walk in it. No sympathy at all. And he kept on fishing.

The officer sucked it up, squared his shoulders, and proceeded to look for good,  less-disgusting ground.

There wasn't any (believe you me, I had already looked), and he had a hard time of it,   and he wasn't even carrying a cricket bucket, tackle box, fishing rods, or 5-gallon bucket.     Or a brown bag full of crackers and drinks.

We had the permits in our hands when he finally made it. T. asked him if he wanted to see the handgun permit, but the officer said "no", and stated he would have thought we were crazy if we didn't have a gun on us these days.

He looked all through the bucket to make sure we didn't have anything illegal in it. He was really very nice. We actually had a nice chat.

He was muddy, sweaty, and bedraggled by the time he waded BACK through the mud, and almost crawled up the hill back to the truck. The climb was steep on our side of the bridge.

We had fried fish for supper that night.    I hope somebody fed him a good supper, because he earned it.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

My Last Concert

At the end of my last post I said that we should have skipped the Molly Hatchet concert.

In no way, shape, form, or fashion is it the fault of the band.    I adore Molly Hatchet.   I had "Flirtin' With Disaster" painted on my Maxim tank.    Figgered it fit the situation.   I looked forward to seeing them perform.

It went to Hell.

We were in my living room sittin' around talkin' before we left.    Me, T-Bird, and Jerry.     We had been chatting for about ten minutes when Jerry asked if he could bring a date.

"Sure!    Where is she?"

"Oh.........she's in the truck."

He left his date in the truck for ten minutes while he kicked back on the sofa and talked?   REALLY????

"Go get her and bring her in."     I spoke those words and I still kick myself for it.

Chickie-baby walked fifteen feet in a zig-zag pattern to reach a place on the sofa three feet from the front door.

She is tore up from the floor up.

"I ain't never see'd no concert before y'all!"

In five minutes I learned that Jerry is her sister's husband and he's just a close friend they grew up together and it's okay with her sister if Jerry takes her to a concert 'cause she "ain't never see'd no concert before" and her grandma just died and she was the one who raised her and that's her REAL Mama you understand what I'm sayin' ya feel me? and DFCS took her kids before she could get home and could I believe they did that shit to her?

Uhhhhhh, yeah, I can see it.    I just don't say it.  

Like a dumbass, I said that I had recently lost my own mother and offered my condolences.

NOW she's hugging me and stroking my hair in sympathy cryin' about our mother's.    I disentangled myself and started looking for an out.    Maybe falling down the front steps would do it.....................

She tried to help me get into the truck and succeeded in banging my head on the truck.    I could have cheerfully slapped her.

It was an entertaining ride to the concert for ALMOST AN HOUR.   She was downing suds and fighting Jerry for control of the cd player.   She's whispering in his ear---close friends my ass---and practically in his lap.

The more she drinks, the louder she gets.   

By the time we get to the concert she's yellin' "I AIN'T NEVER SEE'D NO CONCERT BEFORE AN' I DON'T GIVE A FUUUUUUUCK".    I'm just glad the ride has stopped.    Let me off.

She tried to help me OUT of the truck and nearly knocked me to the ground doin' it.   

My husband has bit his lip and is trying so hard not to laugh.   I keep giving him pointed looks and he's just shaking his head---or avoiding looking at me.    I'm gonna have a mouthful to say later and he knows it.    When we got to the stage area she was begging for another beer and they toddled off.   

Didn't see or hear either one again until the concert was over.    Didn't care.

The concert rocked, but I knew we had a long ride home with The Budweiser Banshee to look forward to.

Finally, it was time to go.     I could not wait to get home.    I've 'bout had all I can handle.   I laid my head on T-Bird's shoulder thinking that if I could doze off I could miss the entire ride home.    Social be damned.    Maybe SHE'LL pass out and miss the ride home.    She seemed somewhat quiet, or totally stoned, so I gave it a shot.


My head jerked up so fast I thought my neck snapped.    PAROLE??     Pretty sure she meant probation but snoozin' thru the nightmare won't happen now.

We pulled over to the side of the road when Jerry felt Nature's Call.    She got out with him.    A Tandem Piss.   Cute.    Kill me now.

Back on the road again she starts feelin' frisky.    She was gumming Jerry's ear---she ain't got a tooth in her head---and I prayed that she wouldn't grab for Jerry's crotch or we were all gonna die in a mangled metal mess wrapped around a pine tree.

Finally, Praise Be!!    The headlights hit the front of my trailer and my horror was over.    I'd shed this bitch, and forget tonight happened.    Jerry will NEVER be forgiven.   This ain't the first Looney-Tooner he has graced me with so this is a pattern.

"Y'all wanna come in for a minute?"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   I have never wanted to strike my husband as badly as I did right then.


They didn't stay very long---they had to hit the liquor store before it closed.

T-Bird and I just stared at each other until we heard the engine of the SUV fade away.

"WHERE IN THE HELL DOES HE FIND THESE WOMEN?????"     I need the answer to this.

"Has to be an asylum.    Maybe they let him check one out for the weekend."

I may see another concert or two before I leave this world, but I can promise you this:   I'll drive my own car.  

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Concert

Several months ago, my husband came home and announced that I had to call the kids and tell 'em that Mama/Daddy/Grandma/Grandpa were gonna be off the clock and unavailable for any and all emergencies.    And this was non-negotiable.

I'm a home-body (translated: Stick-In-The-Mud) and usually I cannot be blasted out of the house, but:


I hadn't been to a concert since I saw KISS in Lakeland, Florida back in the late 70's.    So, yeah, I was chompin' at the bit to go.

We were going with friends.    Mainly because only one of us had a vehicle that we could trust to make the trip.    But, the more the merrier!

We were feelin' pretty "merry" by the time our buddies picked us up.

T-Bird and I got the back seat, and our companions, Jerry and Zach, took their positions in the front as Pilot and Bombardier.    And we were off........    In more ways than one.

It was almost dark and we were zipping down a long stretch of road in the middle of Nowhere, Georgia.

I saw the deer.     T-Bird saw the deer.    Nobody else saw the deer, which was odd because it was standing on the shoulder of the road lookin' at us.

Just because a deer is making eye-contact, that is no reason to assume that the silly thing won't jump in front of your car.    They do it all the time.    That whole Vehicle vs. Deer thing escapes them somehow.

We were screaming "DEER! DEER!" and bracing for impact, but thankfully, Bambi stayed put.

"What deer?"     Indeed.   Zach could have slapped her on the ass, she was so close.

"It was standing on the edge of the road!     How in Hell did you miss seeing that?     She was as big as a cow!"    Valid question.

"I better clean the windshield."

Washer fluid and wipers removed very little grime.    A damp finger revealed that the dirt was actually on the INSIDE.

I double-checked my seatbelt and slid further down in the seat so that I couldn't see anything else.    Jus' didn't want to.    The "merry" was wearing off.

Arriving at the venue, we found a parking spot about half a mile from the gate in a huge, uneven field roped off for parking.    I am night-blind to a degree and had a little trouble navigating over the rough ground and stepping over ropes on the hike to the gate.

Making it to the ticket line was a feat in and of it's self.    It was moving briskly and within a couple of minutes we were at the ticket booth.

There was a young man taking up the money, and in my younger days I would have been rather attracted to his type.

His hair was very close-cropped, and he had eyes like obsidian.    They actually glittered.    A black muscle shirt with muscles on top of muscles, and black jeans.    He had a Bad Boy look and he was workin' it.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at T-Bird.

"Don't I know you?"   He sounded menacing as Hell.    Looked it, too.

My husband took a defensive stance and tone and replied that he didn't know if the kid knew him or not.    I thought to myself that this didn't look good, but there were four of us and just one of him.    WE had back-up.

"Are you from F_________?"    Yes we are, but Hubby says: "Maybe."    He's lookin' at the kid with HIS eyes narrowed.    He is tensed from head to toe (I know when he's wound tight as a banjo string because it's usually due to something I did).

Okaaaaay.............now it's a bit more intense, but we have back-up.........

The kid has one more question: "Is your name T_____?"   Yup, that's him.   Whatever IT is, it's on now.    T-Bird leans over to get a good look at the boy's face and I thought he was going to put his fist in it.  

I turned around to see that our back-up had indeed BACKED UP.   And they were STILL backing up.  

When my husband and the kid lunged at each other through the ticket window I knew that the only one left to lend a fist was ME.    Lookin' pretty bad for ol' T-Bird..................

BIG BRO' HUGS AND BACK SLAPPIN"!    Lots of "How the Hell are ya?" and "How's your mama an' them?"   Some "I ain't seen you in YEARS!"    And "Damn it's been a long time!"

What the ...?   As long as it isn't a fight, I'm good.     I was even better when he let me and T. in for free.

The reunion was over and we were walking to the concert stage when our Faithful Friends---jury is still out---caught up to us.

"Man, I didn't know what was going on back there!    I thought y'all was fixin' to tie up!"

"Hell no!   I used to change his diapers!"    Then he told me how that boy's parents had been friends of his for.........well, forever.

He told me later that he thought he was fixin' to have to fight too, and was tryin' to remember if he'd pissed off this kid at some point in the past.   

If you knew T-Bird, you'd know how he could piss someone off and forget he'd done it.    It's a long list and hard to keep up with.

Someone told me once that when Mother's Finest first came out they were considered "too black for the whites and too white for the blacks".

Some people are just too stupid, and that's too bad; they missed some good rock-n-roll.

Mother's Finest never fails, and they had all of us singin' and dancin' and the time rolled back for a while.

Kudos to Mother's Finest for that because the majority of their audience was in their sixties and seventies.    And us youngun's in our fifties.    Lots of canes, walkers, and motorized scooter/wheelchair rigs.     And some of those I swear should have been D.U.I..

All Granny needs is a red Solo cup filled with ice and her libation of choice, some hip-breakin' rock-n-roll, a fresh charge on her Rascal, and there ya go!

You CAN dance and hold on to a walker!  I've seen it done!    I took notes!

It takes real talent to get some of us moving like that.

We finally fell into bed well after midnight, and it had been one helluva night.   We'd had more fun than we had had in a long time----we don't get out much---and I was glad we went. 

When we got the chance to see Molly Hatchet, we jumped for it.   

We should not have.  

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

A Little Knowledge

As we acquire more knowledge, things do not become more comprehensible, but more mysterious.---Albert Schweitzer

This is what I learned this week:

1. A 105 lb. dog can release enough flatulence into a 5 ft x 7 ft bathroom to make your eyes water. It can have a hang-time of almost one hour.

2. Never take for granted that everybody knows where the birthday party is being held. Someone might drive 9 miles in a gas guzzlin' pickup truck only to arrive at the wrong location. They are aggravated when they have to drive the 9 miles back to town, to a house that was only a mile or two from their own house to begin with.

Sorry 'bout that Son. Mama thought you knew.........

3. That green, blue, and white striped dress might look great on the rack, but every woman knows that horizontal stripes make you look fat. If you are a man wearing that same dress and standing on a street corner, you just look weird. Double that if you are also rather unattractive, dress or no.

4. A 15 month old grandchild who drops her cookie onto the grocery store floor will say "shit" in a rather loud voice. That word will sound much louder if you are standing in the check-out line at Harvey's.

5. Hiding in an Oldsmobile and screaming and lunging at the mockingbird who crapped all over the passenger side of the car while lookin' at its reflection in the side mirror will NOT deter the mockingbird for long. They will come back, fully loaded.    And you just look crazy for sitting in the car yelling at mockingbirds.

6. Husbands who cannot sleep don't like wives who can. And all that snoring just makes them pissy.

7. If you don't open the canopy of an Ercoupe you cannot stand up to climb out of the plane. The sudden collision of the human skull and the canopy will cause a knot to appear on the noggin.

8. Wives who promise not to post about husbands bashing skulls on airplane canopies will go back on their word.

9. You CAN open a bottle of wine with a long screw and a pair of pliers. Cheers!

10. It is possible to drive a truck down a sidewalk just as fast as you can drive it on the road. It wasn't me this time, but when I did it, I drove slower. I was going for a parking space. Got it, too!

Sorry Albert. Sometimes knowledge is as useless as tits on a boar hog.

Except for that bit about how to open a wine bottle with a long screw and pliers.

New Blog------Same Slick

After being aggravated for two years thereabouts, T-Bird decided that he had had all he could stand from our internet service provider, and we switched.
Trying to change the e-mail address on my blog is impossible if I cannot remember my password.    I typed in everything I could think of and came up with zip.    No access.

I had written it down somewhere but couldn't find it.

I decided to start all over AGAIN.    From scratch.     You know, Clean Slate and all that...........

And this time I would set it up by myself without stressing my computer geek to the max.    She may not EVER get over setting up my Facebook account and after that trauma I was afraid to ask her for help again.

The name has changed from Peanuts In My Pepsi but I managed to keep the nickname Slick.

At least I THINK I did.    I hope so; it took a lot of sarcasm to get it and I wear it as a badge of honor.

After setting up the thing I spotted a Post It note stuck to a shelf on my computer desk.   

It was a list of passwords and at the bottom of the note was the password I needed to begin with.

This is the first post for the new blog so lets see what happens now.