The Weeping Cherub

Cindy Foose and I went to St. Francisville last summer and visited around some of the
gardens in the area. One of my favorites was Afton Villa Gardens, where the ruins of an old Antebellum Home, destroyed by fire, is the backdrop for the most beautiful gardens.
In one spot we found the family cemetary.

There she was, the little cherub, weeping at a grave, a nameless grave, perhaps the family dog, but just the same a grave. The image of it was enough to inspire me to paint it. I will name it "Do not Weep" for the poem written by Mary Frye:

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.

Goldie Locks

I hate to be a wimp, but Goldie Locks and I have a lot of things in common and I have to admit they are all wimpy things. She likes everything to be "just right" and so do I.
I can't sleep on a hard bed, I have to have a pillow top to make it just right, I can't
sit in a hard chair - I can possibly sit in one that is too soft, and I like my soup
JUST RIGHT.

My lips are swollen, its a good thing I'm typing instead of talking. Jody discovered chipotle peppers, they are smoked jalapeno peppers and they turn red in the process, that should be warning enough, but no... He used 1/2 a jar in our soup tonight. "This soup is TOO HOT!" is nothing compared to the expletives she (or I)would have added to it tonight. I know about expletives, I grew up with them. They fill a need to help describe something that is too hard to describe otherwise- that's why people swear so much, because they can't figure out anything else to say.

If I stuck my tongue to a frozen pole, it couldn't hurt much worse, so I'm off to look for relief...X@#*! it.

Cleaning out

Its January, still. And this is the month that I clean out. I start by going through all the drawers, closets, and storage places. I have a system. In a laundry basket, I
place all the stuff that needs to be removed to another place other than the garbage can - for that I have a big plastic bag tied around my waist. Nothing is out of my reach
or the scrutiny of being tossed...nothing. What is it and why is it here? Have I worn this in the last decade? If there is an answer on the positive side, it gets to stay -

if not...

So this is my January routine, until the weather begins to warm and I start nesting again. Just like those birds, even though I'm not having any eggs to house, I'm looking
for something to "fluff" the house, and so we begin again... collecting another season
of stuff, and the vicious cycle begins again, until next January when I will go back
through the house and remove all the clutter and swear I won't buy anything ever again,
until spring comes...

Biggie Bags and night bugs

One of my favorite Christmas gifts was from Faith and Chris. It was a Date Night Box.
There was a bottle of wine, a c-d music mix, and a $10.00 bill to Bumpers in a handcolored certificate folder. One of our favorite Yazoo eating establishments.

Jody and I have been Bumping to Bumpers for a few years now. There is just something about sitting in the truck with the windows down on an early spring or fall night, watching the trucks drive by on Hwy 49 East and the night bugs swarming around the lamplight, drinking our bag wine and discussing deep subjects.

We order a Biggie Bag - that is 2 hamburgers, fries and your drinks. We take a tray of condiments, the ketshup, salt and pepper, napkins, and our bottle of wine and just sit in the truck relaxing to Music by Bumpers on the speaker phone and enjoy reading the dessert menu, even though I have never ordered anything. One day soon, I'm going to order me a whirlie.

Its wonderful to have something so special to look forward to. I just hope someone is not in our favorite spot.

NIck's Crab Brie Bisque

A friend of mine shared this recipe with me and I cooked it for Ty and Ellen this week.
It takes less than 30 minutes to make and tastes like you spent hours. As Amanda would say, "I could throw my face in it."

Crab Brie Bisque

1 small Onion, minced
1 stick of celery minced
1 1/2 sticks of butter
1 cup of all purpose flour
2 cups chicken broth (I ended up adding more)
2 cups of half and half
2 cups of whipping cream
2 glasses of chardonnay (about 3/4 cups each) - one is for you and one for the bisque
1/2 lb brie (rind removed) and cut in small pieces
1 lb lump crabmeat

saute the onion, celery and butter for 5 minutes, add flour and cook 5 minutes more
pour in chicken broth and stir until thickened, add half and half and heavy cream,
the chardonnay and brie and warm gently until brie is melted. Add crabmeat to warm.
Salt and Pepper to taste. I think the next time that I make it I will leave a small amount of the crabmeat to put on top of the soup with some parsley.

If you are worried about your weight and plan to substitute milk or low fat, then just forget cooking this. It pleads to be rich and creamy and just has to be eaten this way or not at all. so there.

Being an artist

I like being an artist, because I can be one all of the time, even when I'm not painting.
Being an artist involves noticing a lot of little things that most people don't observe.
I do a lot of staring at people, how they hold a cigarette, cross their legs, stand, sit,
etc. I get to notice all the subtle color changes that happen in a treeline over the course of a year and how the skies and clouds turn from pinks to bright orange and I like to see the colors in a dark shadow. I get to imagine how I would paint this and the process I would have to go through to do it.

I like the challenge of the painting and what difficulties I will have to tackle in order to paint it and I know that I'll fail but keep on trying until I get it right one day. I'm patient about that day, I know it will come and I'll finally paint that painting right. And then I start all over and study again.

Mother

"Call me so I'll know I'm still alive."

Something mother said to me one day before hanging up the telephone. But I guess it makes some sense if you understand that she sits in her chair each and every day doing what she has done for all the years of her life (that I can remember) - read. It must be like the movie "Groundhogs Day" or deja vu for her every single day.

Aloneness. I like my aloneness, when I want it. Mother Loves hers. I remember as a
child coming home from school to a handwritten note on the back door that said
"Quarantine! Do not knock or disturb". Later in life, she left off the quarantine and
just wrote "Do not knock or disburb!" on the back door. I would take them off the door or they would stay up for a month. I have a whole stack of them. Her lack of desire to entertain company or the UPS man is not limited to just the public but even to us, her family. And try as she may to discourage our visits, we just keep coming..."like the plague" she would say.

My brother Chuck,here for Christmas and staying in Jackson, was in town and called to let Mother know he was about to arrive. He gets to Yazoo about 3 times a year.
"Chuck, I'm up to my neck and can't have company" - "up to your neck in What!" Chuck asked, "I'm just busy." was all she said. We laughed about that and mostly expect it to happen when we call to plan a visit. We all know that she loves us, but would rather be alone. "You are like my mother" she says to me. "You like people. And they
just bore me to tears." I guess, I am like my grandmother but sometimes I would love to be more like mother, happy to just sit and read. I guess I should call her now so that she will know she's still alive.

Oh the sweetness of Confession

Yesterday I was upset with myself because I had been insincere, so I fixed it. I wrote
and confessed, apologized and felt the weight lift from my shoulders like an ugly ole grudge and I do believe I even weigh a little less, I'm pretty sure I'm taller too.

Complete honesty is not an easy path, especially if you think you are going to hurt someone. It is easy to get into the habit of little white lies too. There was a function I really did not want to attend, so I didn't, and when asked I said I had forgotten. What's the use? Why not just say, I was too lazy to get dressed. I am going
to do my best to be honest and no white lies. I said "do my best".

quote

"The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere." Ann Morrow Lindberg

I am caught in the middle of trying to pacify a friend and I have been insincere and it
bothers me. I am disappointed in myself for not being as honest as I should because I will hurt her feelings. Ann Lindberg is right, it is exhausting to be insincere.

fragmented

Like salt spilled on the counter, just a huge mess, that's what I am today. no focus, no motivation, no nothing. I put one of those little grains into my mouth and it is amazing how much flavor just one little grain of salt is on my tongue. If I could gather even a teaspoon of myself together, there is potential for a really good day, still the effort is not there right now and I think I'll just stay scattered for a little while longer.

Searching for Classmates

My class of 1970 is having a 40th reunion in June and because I am one of only a few people in the class who still live in Yazoo City, I get to help. I spent most of the day on face book in the "search for people you haven't seen in 40 years" section.

This is what you do - Get your Senior Annual and a good pair of glasses, Type in the name and try to match up the senior pictures + 40 years and identify it as their facebook picture . I got real good at identifying the people my age vs. younger, most of the men have beards and bellys, most of the women have beards and bellys. We all looks alike!

After a whole day I found 3 people out of 50, but I am pretty sure that I can spot anyone in any school in the class of 1970, give or take a year.

Time Out

Lizzie and Robert's baby is here. Egan. She is 1 1/2 years old. I am 57. (I know from a previous post that I said I really want to be 7 again, but today I am still 57)
Lizzie and Robert along with other new age parents, use the "time out" strategy for correcting children. Justin Mayo, a newly adopted relative, says this, "My parents didn't put me in Time Out, they whooped my a--"

Egan was being prissy today and would not respond to any "do nots or No! don't you dares"
So all that was left to try was time out. I found the perfect corner and after about 4 failed tries of getting Egan to stand there, I found out that the corner is not a bad place to be. It is quiet, and left alone, I could be very happy there. So thanks to time out Hoppie (that would be me) has found a new spot to go and sit while the child gets over their rage.

Chicken and Dumplings/ or How the South Could have Won the War

If the south had served Chicken and Dumplings to the Yankees, we would have won the war.They would not have been able to move for days. Flags would have been raised and cries of "more dumplings" would have been heard around the world.

Alas.

Ah, but we in the south, we understand the miracle that happens when the chicken meets the dumpling. Jody and I have always loved them, the children always picked out the chicken but now as adults, they call for the recipe. I have over the years developed my own recipe and it takes a little time, but it is not complicated.

Chicken and Dumplings

Using one whole Chicken, halved, cut up, or quartered. Skin on.
please wash the chicken.

Bring to a boil 2 quarts of chicken broth and then turn down to a simmer.
Add 2 stalks celery ( cut into large chunks), 2 carrots (large chunks), 1 onion skinned
and quartered. Kosher salt and pepper about 1 tsp. - you'll add to this later. 1 tsp. thyme, 1 tsp. poultry seasoning, 2 bay leaves.
Add your chicken and cover the pot. Simmer for 2 hours.

While this is cooking, color your hair, file your nails, mop the floor or do the laundry, just let the pot cook the chicken gently and don't rush it.

Take the chicken, onion, carrots, celery out of the pot to cool - discard the celery and the onion but if you like carrots, chop them up to put back into the pot later.
Into the stock add 2 cans of cream of chicken soup and 1 can of cream of mushroom soup
(LOW Fat is fine) this adds thickness and more flavor.

When the chicken is cool enough to take the meat off the bones, take it off in large
pieces, don't shread the chicken (nothing is worse than stringy chicken). Put the chicken in the refrigerator to cool, it will not go back into the pot until the last 15 minutes, remember it is already done.

Dumplings (yawn, I hope you aren't going to sleep)
Dumplings are 1 cup plain flour and 1 cup self rising flour and the remainder of the chicken broth you saved. Pour a cup of the broth into the flour and stir, gently, add more broth and stir gently until the flour holds together and is not sticky
add more flour if it is. You should be able to make a ball with it, the less it is handled the better. On a sheet of floured wax paper roll out the ball into a rectangle, not too thin and a little thicker than pie crust. Cut into strips about as long as dinner fork prongs and a little wider.

Fill a skillet 1/2 full of water with a little salt and place on the stove top. Turn to boil then reduce to simmer. Remove the dumplings from the wax paper a few at a time
and lay gently into the simmering water, in about 3 minutes remove them with a slotted spoon into the chicken stock. Repeat this until all the dumplings are in the stock. 15 minutes before you are ready to eat put the chicken in and then add 1/2 carton (small size)or more of heavy cream. (less is not more in this case)

Biscuits or Cornbread? Please.

When I grow up

I love little children, when they are old enough to be able to comprehend what you are saying and answer you. Anna is 6. I told her at Christmas that when I grow up I am going to have a bicycle like hers. She gets so tickled "Hoppie, you ARE grown up."
"No", I always say back, "I'm not at all grown up, I just look this way."

I really think that in our mind and our spirit we are a certain age that we stay even when we "grow up." I want to be 7 but I'm 37 in my mind and 57 in my body. My friend
Betti McCready is definitely younger than she is. And some people are older than they are, you know, they looked older when they were kids and they acted older too, but as adults they are really old.

I'm not trying to put off aging, I can see it every day in the mirror, but if I did not have to look in the mirror, if I was blind, I would still feel like I'm 37. I'm stuck
in that age. I'm not even sure I'm any wiser than I was then either, I'm possibly more confused...and anyone who knows me will find it hard to believe that I can be more confused than I am. So one day when you see me on my new bicycle, you'll know that I finally grew up.

Carrying a Grudge

Mimi used to tell me not to carry a grudge because it wasn't pretty. Looking through
the internet today I saw this image - it must be a grudge, I am pretty sure of it, if it is not, it is what I always imagined a grudge to look like. And its hard enough these
days to look nice without having one of these things on my shoulder...

Calmness

Mother was here. In a literal sense, she was really here, for 2 nights a guest for nothing more than a visit and a little pampering. She arrived Sunday afternoon with everything but the kitchen sink and a rather large jar with what looked like a urine sample in it - Bourbon, I was told.

The weather has been chilly to say the least and we thought she would enjoy sitting by the fire, which she did. She was quite pleasant to have around, I got tickled to find out that she talks to herself and still hums the first 4 notes to Sweet Adoline when she hears something she thinks is silly or stupid. Oh, and she rolls her eyes while she hums
it.

Mother likes to watch t.v. and when I returned from taking her home I realized how silent and calming it was to have no noise in the house at all. This is the year to create more calm in my life. I am going to go, one room at a time and eliminate clutter and in bedrooms, I am going to try to create a clean palette of color and calm for rest.
So I'm off now with my gathering sack in hand to tackle the ugly clutter.

Blog On...

It is not that I am wise and have so much to say - rather it is more about what I don't say. I am more a listener than a talker and there are some talkers out there. Some people keep journals, I like to type so this is the place for me to be. I will not and I repeat - I will not blog about politics or religion...both of these subjects are too
personal for me. In this "tell all" life that we live these days, I find myself more interested in what is left unsaid...is there any mystery left out there?

To blog or not to blog

Its all said and done

I have just begun to recover from a cold I got as the children drove off. It felt like a scene in a Dr. Seuss book, standing and watching with bits of scrap laying everywhere, pieces of ribbon looking much like that mousy rat tail belonging to that zhu zhu pet, kleenex piles and diaper balls, the glitter on the floor covered with dirt, and me and Jody waving goodbye to the van carrying the last bits of family back home. There came the first sneeze.

Here are two last photos that sum it up and make me smile.