Saturday, January 8, 2011
In Which We Go To Thomasville And Come Home With A Horse
I do not think it could have been a better day.
I think I'm going to let the pictures speak for themselves. And oh yes, the little movie of Owen meeting the horse for the first time.
It's like he was born knowing how to ride that horse.
Bop arranged for the purchase of it first thing and we explored the store a little more and then we took off for lunch. We went to the place which I have spoken of before where a little old woman sits at the cash register (it's all buffet and you pay when you come in) and looks at Mr. Moon and says, "How tall're yew?"
Well, she wasn't there today so things seemed a bit off but the food was as downhome great as ever and everyone always talks about how fine the vegetables are and they ARE but dear god, there is so much pork fat in them that a vegetarian would not find enough to stave off starvation there. Ironic, eh?
Here's a plate of goodness:
There were three kinds of greens, three types of beans, rutabagas (which the man at the cash register told us about when we paid- "There are rutabagas today!") and okra and oh, hell, I don't know what all. And baked chicken with rice and Macaroni and Cheese and meat loaf and barbecued pork and fried chicken and yeast rolls the size of Owen's head.
And the best tea. Oh, just the best.
He especially liked the green beans.
But then we decided to give him a fried chicken leg. A long time ago, I took Ms. Omgrrrl to this restaurant with her young son and he ate his first fried chicken leg there. He called it "shicken" and we are still talking about that day. That boy ate that chicken leg from the top to the bottom and I am sure that to this day he remembers it. At least to some degree.
So we gave Owen a leg after Lily took off most of the crunchy, crispy, delicious coating
and at first he was hesitant and then he tried it
Yes. He is a carnivore. He ate it to the bone in about thirty seconds.
I was so proud. My little southern boy. He can feed chickens AND he can eat them.
I know. It's confusing. Let's not think about it too much.
We went back downtown and did a little strolling and shopping. Owen needed to work off some of that chicken and we let him out of the stroller and he gleefully held our hands and walked like a man down the sidewalk.
We loaded up the horse and drove on home and Owen fell asleep because he WAS TIRED and he WAS FULL and the horse bounced along in the truck bed behind him and I made Lily take his picture because he looked so jaunty back there.
And so the horse is home now, in our library. Lily just doesn't have room for it at her house. He may end up on the side porch when it warms up. Who knows? I just hope that Owen really loves it as much as he seemed to when he first saw it. He was still half asleep when we set him on it at home.
So that's been our day and thank-you for indulging a grandmother. I realized, as we were eating lunch and I was ignoring my food to take the boy's picture and give him bites that really, I AM A DAMN GRANDMOTHER AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!
I mean, I knew I was a grandmother before that moment but it just really sunk in that I am one to such a cliched degree and don't you judge me until you've had your own grandchildren.
Oh yes you will.
And here's one more picture. A lagniappe, if you will.
Yeah, the meal wasn't enough. We had to get dessert. That's the best cinnamon roll you ever ate, a piece of yellow sheet cake and some banana pudding.
And no, I did not eat all of that. I promise you. In fact, I didn't even bother tasting the cake or the banana pudding and I probably only ate about one day's calories worth of the cinnamon roll which was less than half of it.
I wish I had another one right now.
Life is sweet. And salty. And crunchy. And bouncy.
Today it has been. It surely has for four of us here in North Florida as we traveled up to Georgia and then came home, a plastic horse dancing all the way as we traveled back south to where we live.