No salt, no crab boil, no pepper, no bay leaf, no celery seed, no garlic.
Lis and I looked at each other with eyes widened.
We discuss that to this day.
"Do you remember?"
Let's face it- food is not as important to some people as it is to others.
Jessie had posted a picture on Facebook of me and her daddy and oh, well, I'll just show you:
I could NOT remember where that picture was taken but I knew it had to have been in Cozumel when Jessie and Vergil were there with us several years ago. I asked my daughter about it and she described the restaurant and then I knew exactly where it was and I wrote her back and said, "Of course! That's where Vergil got that huge piece of pork!"
The pork I remembered.
I've had a good walk this morning and hung some clothes on the line and am washing the sheets now and will hang them too. I read an article about how much energy is wasted in America by machine drying and it made me feel guilty. I have not been using my clothesline the way I should and sure, it threatens to rain almost every day but not until late in the day and often the threat does not result in the rain. I am simply being a lazy woman and I do actually enjoy hanging the clothes so I am going to try to do better there. It truly is something of a sin not to hang the clothes outside. One load is practically dry by the time the next one is ready to put out.
Drogo did not come home again last night and I did not worry. Sure enough, there he was this morning, ready for his breakfast. He actually came running towards me and did a sort of fake-pecking at my ankles. "NO!!!!!" I roared at him. He cannot do that. He simply cannot.
He followed me to the coop where the rest of the chickens were eating their breakfast and he was distressed that he could not get in to eat his too.
"Sorry, dude," I told him. "You don't come home at night, you don't get breakfast."
He'd probably already dined next door to tell you the truth. He is in no danger of starving.
Tomorrow is the day the boys are coming for their three-night visit. I am anxious, Lily is anxious. And we all know that all will go well. I think I better get to the store to buy...what? Gibson will eat anything and gladly does but Owen is more specific in his needs. He loves cut up raw vegetables and watermelon and so that is good. Also, of course, Ramen noodles with ants. Again, no one will starve.
And so it goes. The summer solstice will be occurring next Saturday and it feels like summer already and the feel of the air, the sound of the crickets takes me back to my childhood in Roseland and I can almost smell the brackish river, remember the way the heat overcame us and we had to lay down on the cool Terrazzo floors with a fan on us. I remember my constant thirst for books and Kool Aid, one possible to slake, the other never. I remember fishing on the dock for the slimy spined catfish which was the only things we ever caught on our hooks baited with either pieces of cut-up rubber worms (which we used over and over, retrieving them from the fishes' mouths before we threw them back in) or balled-up pieces of white bread, stolen from our kitchens. I remember the bologna sandwiches made on that same white bread, the way my grandfather would sweat in the heat as he worked on his tiny kingdom of palms and fruit trees wearing his pith helmet, a transplanted Pennsylvania boy, and how he would come into the kitchen and drink glasses of the foul sulphur water from the tap, at least pretending to love every drop.
I remember. And all of that is still inside of me as are all the ages I've ever been, some of the memories intact and whole, some mere fragments, some make me happy to recall, some make me so very sad.
Such is life.
I never drink Kool Aid anymore but my thirst for books continues on. I have my own palms now, my own fruit trees, my own kitchen, and there are still memories to be made.
Maybe I need a pith helmet. I wonder what happened to Granddaddy's. One wonders where he bought such a thing.
Ah lah. Time to hang the sheets.