It’s amazing, the things we recall that happened in our yesteryears. Many thoughts of childhood for me tend to center around food. Having a grandmother that grew up on the coast of North Carolina was a large influence in my life. She could cook country food, and I mean anything from fried chicken to black eyed peas & cornbread, beans, greens and everything in between. I don’t believe I could pen a better meal in one of my novels than my grandmother could produce on her stove.
When it came to seafood, she was adept at preparing shrimp, fish, crabs, oysters, clams, soft-shelled crabs and a multitude of aquatic fare. Her family earned a living off of the sea and we could count on the freshest of seafood along with the pinnacle of preparation.
My dad introduced me to good cuts of steak; the ribeye being his favorite and lobster, thankfully, another of his specialties, and you would not believe how much of a difference cutting your own potatoes for french fries makes.
To think, this post originated from the thought of two apple trees I remembered from my childhood. They were no more than fifty feet apart. One was a golden delicious which ripened in late May. It was a tasty way to start off the summer.
The second tree was a red apple; I’m not sure of the species. It would ripen in September and its fruit would rival any apple flesh that ever passed these two lips.
To say the least I had a wonderful childhood in many ways, including dining fare.
Have a great week, May God bless you and keep you, and don’t be afraid to try something different in your diet!
For years now, we’ve been hearing the term organic when it comes to our food. I’ll have to admit when I see something labeled organic, all it tells me is that the particular item is going to cost more. Delving into the world of organic produce should shed a little light on this well-known, yet mysterious word, often used in our daily lives.
What does organic mean? Organic food is grown using unconventional pesticides and natural fertilizers.
People, who nosh on organic food, tend to consume fewer pesticides and antibiotics, but nutritionally, an organic diet as opposed to a diet grown the traditional way are about the same.
Pesticides and herbicides are used in organic farming; however, they simply use what the USDA approves. Inserting my two cents worth, I’m not overly impressed with government approval of anything; however, you can trust food labeled organic. Now if we evaluate the post you just mentally consumed, the term organic probably means about the same things it did when you began reading. Such is the ways of federal advertising.
I myself would tend to lean toward organic foods, and to take it one step further the natural label means very little of anything.
Have a great week and may God bless!
Even though I normally write in the science fiction/fantasy genre, I have one book that dabbles in time travel. It opens a completely new world, in fact, it opens an infinite number of worlds, each with a vast amount of situations; a number so high, it boggles the mind.
Have you ever known someone who commented about returning to the days of the old west enamored with the romantic side of life at that time, moreover, the way television portrays life in the 19th century?
Take for instance, something as simple as a toothache. Today,an antibiotic would clear up an abscess. If the tooth required extracting, an injection of lidocaine would numb the area allowing the tooth’s painless removal. After a day or so of recovery, the patient could return to a normal lifestyle.
By contrast, 150 years ago liquor was the anesthetic. The dentist, who may sideline as a blacksmith or barber, along with several burly assistants, restrained the patient in the chair. Industrial type instruments were used for extractions.
Simple things, such as a urinary tract infections, an ingrown toenail, or even an ear infection that can be eliminated today with a course of antibiotics, could prove fatal not so many years ago.
Got an inkling to live in a past century? Doesn’t really matter unless someone pulls time travel out of their hat.
Hopefully, just a little something to give your Monday a chuckle. Have a great week . . . on second thought have a better week than that . . . and to take it one further have a wonderful Fourth of July.
May God richly bless and keep you!
As I sit here working on a new novel, two of the main characters find themselves floundering in a life-and-death, watery situation. The water, having nothing to do with their deadly conundrum, revolved around a fish. Now, the fact that this large disgusting fish was something they were actually attempting to catch set my mind working. You see, I love to fish and have been doing so most of my life. As a kid, and I mean a kid of 14, possibly 15, I found myself standing in the Chickahominy river from April until October.
The river was a short walk of probably three quarters of a mile from my back door til I could get a line wet. This in turn, lent itself to an amazing amount of fodder I could use in writing sessions, especially short stories.
Many smaller backwater tributaries flowed from the main river. I frequented these when I wanted to fish by walking down the middle of one of these canals casting to each side. In this way, I missed nothing due to brush along the bank. The down side came one day after I caught a Pike (Chain Pickerel). I ran this string with a sharpened metal end through the fish’s gills and out its mouth, pushing it through a ring attached to the other end of the stringer.
With the fish secured, I tied it to my belt loop and continued my angling adventure. Several minutes later, I felt a subtle bump on my rear end. I paid no attention until this continued with more repetitions. Turning to see what had the audacity to interfere with my concentrated attempt to procure my quarry; boy, did I see it. The one who dare mess with me while fishing, was the fish I had just caught. I figuratively jumped out of my skin, afraid I was being attacked by something new to this world.
There is one other scenario worth mentioning. I was standing ankle deep in a similar scenario, working my way to deeper water. A small head breaking the surface, flicked a forked tongue at me, waylaying my journey. I fled to the bank, happy I was not chest deep and noticed the serpent followed me to the bank. Upset with this creature interrupting my angling, I found a tree limb; brought it down across his head numerous times until at last my hunting knife removed his slippery head. This in turned allowed me to resume my trip into the river and complete my day of fishing. As you have probably noticed, neither man, beast, or serpent interrupts the time I allot to fishing.
So goes my antics as a young lad. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed sharing.
Take good care of yourself. May God bless you; keep you in his grace and may his countenance shine down upon you! Have a great week!
Every now and then, a word comes along that is used repeatedly. Eventually that word will hit the airwaves and begin to grind against my sense of right and wrong. The latest utterance to have this effect on me is “application,” which has been conveniently condensed to ‘app.’ The abbreviation app, in and of itself is not a problem; however, when delving into technology as most of us are likely to do, everything we encounter likely requires an app.
Apps allow us to navigate without having to go to the internet each time we want to access a particular program. An app for this and an app for that, here an app, there an app, everywhere an app, app is pretty much how I perceive the world of applications.
The next saying that has come up on the world of most everything in one form or the other is ‘game-changer.’ Everywhere in the world of television commercials, these two words are sure to pop up. I first heard this phrase uttered concerning a hand-ailment known as Dupuytren’s contracture. From then on the phrase game-changer has been used to describe everything from vitamins to athletic socks and prostate treatments to copper underwear. Some things tend to be over used and I guess that’s just me rambling on . . . then again maybe not.
Perhaps, this is one of those times, I should stay in my writer’s room not concerning myself with superfluous things or at least keep them to myself.
Have a great week and may God richly bless you and yours.
Once again, I find myself forging through another bout of wondering. If you remember in a blog post not so long ago, I was caught in the dilemma of archaic typewriters. This time I seem focused on things I did as a young adult, some good, some not so good, and some not so good, good. I do believe, my mind’s eye, ear, nose, and throat are pulling me toward the days I spent at the bowling alley.
At one time, I bowled on a league. Our team consisted of me, my girlfriend, her brother, and another gentlemen from her work. We accessed this league through her employer.
One night a week, we bowled three games with all the included teams placed by rank based on their weekly scores. We usually hovered somewhere around last place knowing that if we strove for mediocrity, there would be nowhere to go but up.
At this particular time in my life, I was known to diligently search for the bottom of a beer bottle. Of course, being a young man in my early 20’s, I was not opposed to saving a buck wherever possible.
Now, what could be better than knocking down a few cold brews while enjoying one’s favorite pass time? Therein lies the problem.
Dumb kid, who likes to drink but isn’t endowed with an overabundance of cash.
Bowling alley where the dumb kid bowls sells beer out of the dumb kid’s price range.
The beer that the Bowling alley sells is the brand sold in local convenience and grocery stores.
Dumb kid owns bowling ball and a bowling bag with enough space for ball and 6 bottles of said favorite beer.
Problem solved. All dumb kid has to do is purchase one beer at the beginning of the night, store empties in bowling ball bag, and walk softly to prevent clinking and/or breakage.