Happy New Year and pass the innards, please.

Y'all know I'm about as Southern as they come. And those of us reared below (way below) the Mason-Dixon Line are defined by many aspects of our culture, chief amongst them being our traditional foods. But one thing that I have never been able to stomach, literally or figuratively, is the idea of eating innards. … Continue reading Happy New Year and pass the innards, please.

The dead horse of Christmas

Y'all, I told myself I wouldn't do it. I just swore I would not kick the dead horse of Christmas parodies, but I just can't resist it. So here it goes (sing with me now!): On the twelfth day of Christmas the Deep South gave to me... 12 Half-shell oysters 11 Rs a-dropping 10 Quarts … Continue reading The dead horse of Christmas

Oh, fudge!

Granny made fudge every year at Christmas - the real kind from the back of the Hershey's Cocoa box. The kind that requires you intuit such things as when you achieve "soft ball stage." The kind that requires you to beat it by hand with a wooden spoon until it yields in unglossy submission. The … Continue reading Oh, fudge!

Three is a magic number

I recently went through a little spate where it seemed every time the phone rang it was bad news. After receiving the third and worst piece of news, I thought to myself, "Well that's three. Things can go on and get better now." And they did. But, I wondered, why was that my first reaction? … Continue reading Three is a magic number

Hometraining has nothing to do with puppies

"A car is useless in New York, essential everywhere else. The same with good manners." Mignon McLaughlin Down here, we call it “hometraining.” You know - manners, comportment, etiquette, social graces. I know you all are saying, “Manners schmanners. I can remember which fork to use, please and thank you, ma’am and sir, and all … Continue reading Hometraining has nothing to do with puppies

Love, Me

We were cleaning out her house. Packing up the dishes, the linens, the cutlery. The books, nick nacks, and bridge sets. Her mother's wedding dress and her daughter's baby dress. A forgotten shoebox filled with Borax and zinnias. Nearly a hundred years of living to be parceled out, stored away or sold. Her closet was … Continue reading Love, Me