Well, after the "Easter Past" post, I enjoyed hearing about your personal experiences with pear salad. Seems like it struck a chord as the infamous pear salad appears to have made quite an impact on so many of our lives. Some good, but, mostly, painful. I even received some pictures of the pear salads that graced your tables on Easter Sunday. Bless your hearts. I'm happy for all of y'all, who can find pleasure in such, but I'm also glad to know I'm not the only one who's never known what to make of the puzzling concoction. And, yes, I was also reminded that, on really special occasions or when company was coming, my mother did accessorize each of the loaded pears with a cherry. Oh, so fancy.

Here in the South, we have such a love relationship with our food. I mean, when it comes to eating, we don't play. We all have a long culinary heritage, down here. Each of our families has its own rich, savory written history of gourmet treasures, which are scribbled down on old index cards or note pad paper and passed from generation to generation. These secret formulas are among our dearest and most valuable possessions. Dog-eared and torn and splattered with grease, they hold the key to our most scrumptious memories. They protect the sacred Thanksgiving cornbread dressing recipe from ever going to the grave with grandma and safeguard against the old, sacred caramel icing secrets from ever from getting lost right along with great-granny's memory. These are the main, flavorful characters we expect to see on our holiday plates, each year. The dishes that awaken our deepest memories of the all the love that has happened around our families' tables.
    
I made a quick road trip, yesterday, and had lunch with Michelle. She asked where I wanted to eat and I told her I was craving real food. Real food is code for a meat and three vegetables. Well, she took me to this local place I'd never heard of that is known for its good ol' southern food. The choices were endless. Never mind that Michelle had a little tablespoon of this and a little teaspoon of that, while my mounded plate looked more like the truck driver's Thanksgiving special at Earline's Gas-n-Grub.

I had fried chicken, turnips (sometimes, referred to as greens), black-eyed peas, and a squash casserole that was just divine. That's what I love about our food in the South. We can take a vegetable like squash and mix it with cheese, some version of cream soup, butter, and cracker crumbs and still feel good about having eaten a vegetable. We also don't consider vegetables that have been dredged in flour or corn meal and fried to be any less of a vegetable. We just don't discriminate in that way. Furthermore, we don't question it, but macaroni and cheese also qualifies towards your daily vegetable count when in the South....just so you know. It's listed there with the other vegetables on menus everywhere and we're just fine with that. Starchy field peas and white potatoes also hold as much merit as the leafiest of green things around here, too.

Even surrounded by so much deliciousness, there are a lot of Southern dishes that I just don't get. Some might even require that my southern girl card be revoked despite my rather lengthy southern genealogy. The surname council may even rescind my maiden name and all ties to my mother's maiden name due to the defamation of some of these long-standing delicacies that I'm about to question. But, I mean, with our reputation for such rich, delectable cuisine, down here, I think there may be a few of our dishes that just don't represent us all that well. Of course, this is an opinion piece and I'd love to hear your arguments in favor of any of the following:

Carrot raisin salad- This one really baffles me. Ok, so whose ancestor can we thank for having this great idea- I'm gonna grate some carrots, throw some raisins up in there and cohere it all with a jar of mayo. My mother loved to make this when we were growing up and I am still at a loss for words.
Tomato sandwiches, pineapple sandwiches, and banana sandwiches- Cold, thick slices of fruit between Sunbeam bread (or light bread as we call it, sometimes) with mayonnaise gushing out on all sides. I know I'm going to lose a lot of friends on the tomato one, especially, but come on, people. What that sandwich is missing is some meat, cheese, and a trip through the panini press.
Cornbread and milk- This is where my maiden name is in peril. This was one of my daddy's favorites. Why? I don't know. After his Sunday nap, the leftover cornbread from lunch was going to be crumbled up into a glass of cold milk. Buttermilk, if available. I can't explain it or defend it.
Ambrosia- This was a special occasion dish. It was colorful and, for some reason, my mother always considers the colors of dishes when meal planning. There has to be a pop of color somewhere on the table. No matter how radiant or flashy, I'm not a fan.
Congealed salad- the obligatory food of southern funerals and family reunions. You take fruit, marshmallows, cottage cheese, nuts, or whatever you can find and suspend them in a lime or strawberry Jell-O. When molded into the shape of a bundt pan, well, nothing says we're so sorry your mother died like that does. Um, none for me, thanks.
Hummingbird cake - Ok, well, first off....the name is disturbing. It conjures up memories of that nursery rhyme our mothers read to us about blackbirds being baked in a pie. So, even though no hummingbirds are harmed in the making of this spice cake, they are about the only ingredient omitted from this chunky baked good.
Deviled eggs- The few friends, who remained faithful after the tomato sandwich remark, will fall by the wayside here....and right here after Easter. But, people. Boiled eggs smell to high heaven. Fancy them up with paprika and a cute serving dish all you like, but it does not change that.
English pea salad- My dear, sweet Grandmother, who I loved with all of my heart, made this all the time and if you'd like a copy of this dark blot on my family's rich culinary history, I'd be happy to share it. She loved it and so did both of her sons-in-law, so not everyone agreed with my assessment of the dish.   
Seven layer salad- also known as let's clean out the refrigerator and layer it in a fancy bowl salad. It requires no culinary skill to prepare. Just an aptitude for stacking. Come on, southerners. We're better than this.
White gravy- should not exist. Gravy is not white. Gravy is brown as it is colored with pan drippings from the meat for which the gravy is being made. No meat drips white. Why would you ruin a perfectly good piece of country fried steak or chicken with this unnatural, pale gravy imposter?
Crawfish- And the very last of my friends will get off the bus here, I'm afraid. I'm all about eating some crustaceans, but I'm not much for eating the ones we used to catch in the drainage ditch after a hard rain. They're called crawdaddies if you're 10 and you and your friends are hunting for them in the culvert under your driveway with your sand pail. They're called crawfish if someone is inviting you over to have them for supper with corn and potatoes. The yellow substance is where it all ends for me.
In all fairness to the dishes listed, I have to mention that I am not a fan of cold, crunchy, uncooked food. I am also not a partaker of mayonnaise. Considering those aversions, it's no wonder I have these questions about our southern cuisine as we seem to have a real affection for holding cold, crunchy things together with the popular white adhesive, down here. But, to each his own and if that's your thing, then eat up, I say!

Did I forget anything?

I hope you all enjoyed some of your family's traditional culinary delights, last weekend. We just killed off the rest of the strawberry cake, tonight. Merciful heavens!

Y'all have a good rest of the week.  

    

It's been a crazy week. Holiday weeks usually are. My to-do list was so long and sprawling that I had to break it down into several smaller lists- one for each day. I thought I'd be less likely to overlook something that way, while also making things appear less insurmountable. I'm sure your list looks about like mine. You've probably got a ham to pick up. Eggs to fill. Dry cleaning you can't forget. Desserts to make. And somebody is probably needing a new tie or church shoes as we call them down here in the South. We've talked a lot about the pressure we put on ourselves at holiday time to make everything nice for our families. When we heap that on top of work, church, family, and social commitments, well, we can allow the activity around the holy day to engulf our consciousness of the reason for the holy day.

I got to church for our Maundy Thursday service, tonight, and headed to choir practice to go over the songs we'd be singing. My head was pounding as it had been all day. A mix of a weather front, allergies, and I'm sure a little stress, too, as I'd been checking items off my list, most of the day, and was already thinking about tomorrow's. I put my choir robe on and headed to the sanctuary with the rest of the choir, wishing my ibuprofen would hurry up and kick in.

Just before the sermon, scenes from The Passion came up on the screen. A series of crucifixion clips were set to beautiful music. For those few minutes, I sat and watched the depiction of what Jesus did for me. Some, terribly hard to watch. Some causing me to shift in my seat or look down and wince. Suddenly, all the things I needed to accomplish before Sunday didn't seem to matter so much in that moment. This was the reason for Sunday and it was all that really mattered. I felt like I'd failed in my effort to be intentional with my thoughts when all the activity came swirling around the holiest of days. I'm guilty of getting so wrapped up in my little world and my busy schedule, my people, my plans, and my family that, sometimes, I can feel a million miles and a million years away from the cross.

Scenes from the movie steered my thoughts back on the right track. We can’t really imagine, here in 2019 America, what Jesus' life was like or the brutality of the time in which He lived. Heck, we can hardly wrap our brain around a world without granite countertops, Wi-Fi, and Starbucks. Portrayals of Jesus in His last days can be so hard to watch, but it's good for us to experience the rawness of the atrocities that He endured for us. It helps us grasp these things that are so foreign to our time and the lives we live here.  

I've tried to imagine being Mary, a mother who loved her son with all of her heart. Just like me. She’d carried her Son. Held Him. Watched Him grow. And I imagine, worried about Him. Just like me.  She loved Him just like I love my children. Knowing that kind of love, myself, I imagined watching one of my children being beaten and then crucified. I wondered how a mother’s physical body could survive the trauma of seeing her son tortured and killed right there before her eyes- how a mother’s heart wouldn’t just stop its beating. Not only was her call to be mother to the Savior a difficult and awkward thing when she was a young, unmarried, pregnant girl, but it also locked her into some devastating pain and grief, later in her life, too. She was part of God’s plan to save us. My life's path has never been comparable to Mary's, but, sometimes, what God asks us to do can be so very hard. I want to trust that He has a reason and a plan like Mary did.

I've tried to imagine being Peter after he realized he’d denied knowing Jesus just like he said he would never do. I’ve never denied Jesus in person, but I’ve tried to distance myself from Him in more subtle and “acceptable” ways. There have been times when I should have spoken and I stayed quiet. There have been times when I should've done something and I did nothing. Maybe because of who was around me. Or maybe I didn't feel comfortable being associated with Jesus stuff in that particular situation. There weren’t any roosters that crowed to alert me to what I’d done and I didn’t have to look directly into Jesus’ face, but the sin was just the same. I’m sure Peter was in agony; feeling like he’d blown his chance to prove his faithfulness, but Jesus came back, and showed him mercy, and reestablished him....pointing him forward and not backward. There was a job that Jesus needed Peter to start on right away. Sometimes, God has to grow us before He can do His work through us. I want to learn from my mistakes, forget them, and move forward with what I'm supposed to be doing like Peter did.

I tried to imagine being the thief, who turned to Jesus as he was hanging next to Him. I wonder how it would feel to know that you’re in your last hour of life. I can imagine the thoughts come fast and hard at a time like that. Thoughts about eternity and self-reflection. I’ve never been on a cross at the point of death, but I’ve hung very anxiously at the end of my rope. The times when I’m shaken by my own insufficiency is always when I'm likely to look for God in the most serious way. Sometimes, He has to take us to the end of ourselves and to the end of our options to remind us to depend on Him. I want to know where to turn like the thief on the cross did.

I tried to imagine being Jesus. I tried to imagine knowing the horrific things that were about to happen to me, while watching my closest friends scatter. My mind couldn’t grasp the idea of asking for God’s forgiveness for people who’d whipped me, spat on me, and mocked me. How do you ask for mercy for people, who've harmed you so savagely and unapologetically? I also tried to imagine hanging on a cross for the sake of a woman, who'd live thousands of years later….a woman who’d be a blogger, a busy wife and mother...a stubborn, complacent, undisciplined woman, who'd disappoint and offend me over and over and over again....a woman, whose life would be so full that she wouldn’t give much thought to what I'd done for her on an average day. I tried to imagine the kind of love that you'd have to have to die for someone like that and I couldn't. I want to love people even when they're hard to love or don't deserve it.....like Jesus did.

In the quietness of these first few moments of Good Friday, my to-do lists have receded to the back corners of my mind, where they belong. In their place are simply the whisperings of my soul to my Savior, "I'm so sorry for all that you went through for me, Jesus. Thank you for your amazing gift."


I hope you have a wonderful weekend celebrating the hope and joy of Easter with your family and friends!

See y'all next week.

It's about that point of the Easter week when our mothers used to check to see if our Buster Brown patent leather shoes had scuff marks all over them or if she thought they were in acceptable Easter condition. If they didn't pass the Easter inspection, she'd load us all up and take us down to Mel-Mac shoe store and let the man measure our feet. He'd sit on the stool and we'd hold our foot out on the ramp thingy, while he buckled them. This could take longer if you chose to don the fancy double-strapped Mary Janes. While we were there, we'd always pick up a new pair of knee socks, lacy ankle socks, or a pair of white hose, because, likely, all the socks had picks in them or the hose had runs and that sort of nonsense would never do for this special day. I remember my brothers having the lovely brown, lace-up loafers, but it seemed their Easter readiness shoe inspection wasn't near as stringent as mine. Resurrection Sunday was not to be greeted with anything less than spotless patent leather.
There was always the annual Easter egg dying. This process usually took place on Saturday night at our house. By then, I'd usually had my Saturday night bath and my hair was in pink sponge rollers for the night. Was there anything more uncomfortable than sleeping on a head full of those?  It was the price we paid for beauty, I suppose. Anyway, no Easter was complete without fingertips stained with PAAS and wreaking of vinegar. There were none of those plastic eggs stuffed with money and candy. No, we had one dozen real eggs to work with, on Sunday afternoon, and the only prize inside those was a smelly clump of yuck. But, we didn't know any better. We had the best time hunting and throwing those crumbling eggs on top of each other in our baskets over and over again.
 
Of course, you'd set out the baskets before bed on Saturday. Not those fancy personalized ones they have now. Back then, your Easter basket may have held magazines, the rest of the year, but, on this special day, it was going to gird your allotment of confectionary delights. It marked the boundaries of where your siblings' rights stopped and where yours began. Our baskets didn't rival a visit from Santa, like they do now. There was just enough candy to cover the top of the dark green plastic grass. Easter was the one morning of the year when it was not only acceptable, but expected, that breakfast would consist of just eggs.....Heavenly Hash eggs, peanut butter eggs, jelly bean eggs, marshmallow eggs, and foil wrapped solid milk chocolate eggs.....and whatever those weird shaped, colored eggs were that had the white chalky stuff inside. What was that? Toothpaste? Anyway, it was the one day we were allowed to eat candy for breakfast and that made for a really good day.
The Easter bunny in the mall/department store has come a long way, too. Now, he looks like he might not actually kill you in your sleep when he comes to visit your house in the night. I'd say that's an improvement over yesteryear. A real advancement in fostering pediatric mental wellness.

And no Easter was complete without a big lunch after church. Usually, there was a ham, a roast, and a cake fashioned with coconut also acting as grass to some jelly bean eggs. And, at our house, there was always the pear salad. A half of a pear topped with a dollop of mayo and sprinkled with cheese. I don't know what intoxicated person first came up with this, but it has never graced any plate of mine. But, to each his own. If you go to my Mama's house for Easter, you'll likely be offered one.
  

I hope you're having a great Easter week!

I'll see y'all back here in a couple of days, friends.
 

I saw Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman made their first court appearances, last week, for their involvement in this college entrance scandal thing. I'm certainly not a movie enthusiast or even a big TV watcher, for that matter, so the only role I remember Felicity playing was Julia on one of my very favorite oldies, Frasier. She played a smart-mouthed, sarcastic co-worker of his. Her character was cold and always wore a smirk on her face on the sitcom, so it wasn't a big leap for my mind when I heard "Julia" was involved in such a scheme. But sweet Aunt Becky? Come on. Who would've ever thought she would've done anything like that? Next thing you know, they'll be telling us Tootie is now a lady of the night and Mary Ingalls runs a pot farm.

Will we ever get over the fact that Dr. Cliff Huxtabel was not who we thought he was, while he was giving all that good fatherly advice to Theo? And, each time, I've seen Alyssa Milano in the news, lately, I've wondered what in the world has gotten into little Samantha Micelli? Tony taught her better than that. All of this conflicted confusion is because none of the headlines match up with the roles we remember these people in or who our minds thought they were.

There are some people who'll never be able to shake the roles they once played on television or the movie screen. No matter how many years go by or what else they accomplish in their lives, some will always remain a particular character with certain attributes in our minds. I mean, after The Andy Griffith Show, Don Knotts was never seen as anyone but one bullet, bug-eyed Barney. Period. No matter how many TV shows Delta Burke starred in, she could never be anybody but our beloved Suzanne Sugarbaker, an icon among Southern women. And let's face it, if we were stuck in, say, a bank vault and the oxygen level was getting low, we'd probably all feel a whole lot better about the situation if Lynda Carter was in there with us. Not that she could do anything, but still. Chevy Chase will live out the rest of his years as Clark Griswold, who'll always be the driver of the coveted family truckster in metallic pea green. Patrick Dempsey probably wishes people would quit asking him for medical advice. Can you imagine being Steve from Blue's Clues trying to land a date with a girl when the whole world thinks you only own one green striped shirt and get way too excited about the mail? And Maureen McCormick, well, she might as well just go ahead and have her headstone engraved with Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.

And it's not always an endearing role that gets stuck in our minds. I'll never get over Glenn Close boiling the little girl's rabbit. You just don't do that, Glenn. That's what I think about when I see her to this day. I mean, I'm sure she's a nice enough lady, but I'd never ask her to feed my dog if I was going out of town. You know, just in case. I still wouldn't want to be left alone in a closet with Faye Dunaway. She was so wrong for that. I don't care how many characters she's played since then, I see her face in my head when I come across a wire hanger. I'd most likely go digging for my mace if I met Christopher Walken in an alleyway. And I'm pretty sure I'd turn down Kathy Bates if she ever offered to take me to her house to convalesce after an accident. Appreciate it so much, Kathy, but I wouldn't want to trouble you. 

Actors aren't the only ones, who have trouble shaking roles or images. We all have the tendency to lock ourselves and others into certain parts, but, sometimes, roles are cut or changed. They're no longer needed. Become irrelevant. Or are recasted. With my grown up kids, I can tell you if I try to go back and reclaim my past role as mother of small kids, well, it is never very well received. It's because I've moved beyond the part of my life (and theirs) where that role is needed or wanted, but it's something I really, really enjoyed being. There are just some things that we won't be forever. A student. A caregiver. A nurse. A supervisor. A daughter. An athlete. Life changes. Death, divorce, job loss, aging, health diagnosis, retirement, financial changes. There are a million reasons that can cause us to change roles or suddenly lose a part we once played. It's almost never easy to suddenly be cut from what we've been doing for so long. Especially from that one thing we've always been known for. Sometimes, we can feel like our identity has been lost and we're left not really sure what to do with our hands.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens."
Ecclesiastes 3:1

"For I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

We can also chain ourselves or others to a particular part by hanging onto assumptions based on past performances. We form our estimations of people as we see them early on and they become cemented in our minds. We've all made different names for ourselves. Some are good and we're awfully proud of those. Some are bad or regrettable and still have the power to make us blush if we let them. Some names were lost along the way. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it wasn't. Some, we'd give our right arm to get back. Some, we'd do anything if we could just forget. Maybe it was just one bad decision that took it away. Maybe a series of missteps. Or it wasn't even our fault. Could be we'd just like to move on and be known for something else. Something more honorable and meaningful. Sometimes, we just don't feel like we live up to the roles we play or the characters we like to portray. We disappoint. We get disappointed. We're all human. Needing forgiveness. Mercy. Grace. And a chance to start again when we mess up. We crave those things from each other. We crave those things from ourselves. We crave those things from our Creator.

"Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun. And all of this is a gift from God, who brought us back to himself through Christ."
2 Corinthians 5:17-18

"And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you." Ephesians 4:32

Jesus understood the importance of fresh starts and the significant impact that role changes can have in our lives. He changed Peter's name when He called him to be one of His disciples. He was Simon, the fisherman, and Jesus changed him to Peter, the apostle. "Now I say to you that you are Peter (which means 'rock'), and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell will not conquer it." Matt 16:18  It was a new name for a new role he would play. A new direction his life would take. A new purpose for his days. He'd be known for playing a much more important part than his old role as a fisherman. And he'd always be remembered for being so much more than a denier.

Good or bad, we've all played a number of parts in our lives and, positive or negative, there have been a lot of estimations made about us based on those performances. But, the most important role we could ever sign up for is follower of Jesus. And the only judgement we should ever fear is His. He can give us a new name and a new identity. He offers a new purpose and a new start to anyone who believes in Him.        

"If you declare with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord." and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead,  you will be saved." Romans 10:9

"See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." 1 John 3:1

"Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:14 


I hope y'all have a great Tuesday, friends.

     

Even though I wrote the following back in the spring of 2016, when the game, Wordscapes, recently told me that coon was not a word, I was reminded of this post. Sure, the less commonly used form, coon, is missing the "ra", but, sometimes, that's just how we do things around here in the South, Wordscapes.
-As you all know, I was born and raised in the South. Not just in the South, but the heart of the South. The buckle of the Bible Belt. I know I don't have to tell y'all, (spell check is flagging my y'all) but we have our own way of talking down here. First off, we just like to talk. Period. It's one of our most favorite things to do. Our words are lively, warm, and descriptive and we use them to connect with each other. We don't really have to know you to strike up a conversation. We think it's kind of rude to pass people without, at least, saying, "hey" or sit next to someone on a plane and not ask them where they're from and what they do. Sure, we may not always feel like adding the "g" to the end of our words and, sometimes, we may put more syllables in their pronunciation than are called for, but I guess we just like to squeeze all the good out of them. Every last drop. Our dialect is a little bit of the present and a little bit of our past. It's a mix of who we are now and where we've come from. It's our way of making people feel at ease when they're around us. Loved and treasured. Comforted and welcome. Like we're all in this together, so we might as well be friends.
       
Today, I decided to write a most brilliant and riveting literary masterpiece, which would encapsulate the southern language. While we don't usually use all the words in a wad like this, you can't come down here and not hear them sprinkled throughout our conversations. For those of you who live in other regions, I have included the translations in my literary work. Who knew I had such a flair for fiction?        

Once upon a time, Suzy and Mary were fixin' (getting ready) to walk to town (a commercial area) to get some cough medicine for Suzy's Mama (Mother) who was sick as a dog (very sick). She'd been coughing like all get out (really badly) and was making all sorts of racket (noise). There was a storm coming, so they knew they had to hightail it (hurry). They told Suzy's Mama (Mother) that they'd be back directly (soon) and she reminded them not to act up (misbehave), to mind (use) their manners, and not to go gallivanting (running) all over town (a commercial area). "'I'll hold down the fort (stay here) until y'all (you both) get back," Suzy's Mama (Mother) said. "Okie Dokey,"(sounds good) they yelled as they left. They knew there was no time to lollygag, (goof off) because they didn't want to be caught by the rain. Not to mention, they needed to get back with the medicine, because they didn't want Suzy's Mama (Mother) to end up in the 'mergency room (emergency department).

"Let's go this-a-way (take this route)," Mary suggested. Suzy agreed. After all, this was their stompin' grounds (neighborhood) and they reckoned (supposed) they knew the shortest way. Mary started singing a little song as she walked, but Suzy reminded her that she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, (was tone deaf) but telling Mary anything was like talking to a brick wall (pointless). The more Suzy got in a tizzy (upset), the louder Mary sang. "For crying out loud (ugh), you're as stubborn as a mule (quite stubborn), Mary," Suzy hollered (yelled).  Mary replied, "Who gives a flip (who cares) about what you think, Suzy? Don't get your feathers ruffled (upset)! You're getting too big for your britches (taking yourself too seriously) anyhow," Mary said, madder than a wet hen (quite mad).   

Suzy agreed to quit being ugly (mean) and they finally made it to the edge of town (a commercial area). It was a good thing because the wind was starting to blow and Mary's monogrammed hair bow was all catawampus (crooked). Suzy spotted the ice cream shop. "Oh, Mary, I have a hankering (craving) for some chocolate ice cream. It won't take long, because it's just over yonder (there), catty-corner (diagonal) to the drugstore. I'm about to burn slap up (I'm very hot) and ice cream would taste so good!" "You don't have to tell me twice (I'm in)," Mary said and they headed toward the shop. 

They walked in and were tickled to death (so glad) to see Miss Betty was working. "Well, I'll be (Isn't this something)! Aren't you, two, a sight for sore eyes (I'm so happy to see you)! I haven't seen you, girls, in a month of Sundays (a long time). Y'all (you both) are just pretty as a peach (very pretty)," she said as she came around the counter to give the girls some sugar (a kiss). "It's good to see y'all (you both) in my neck of the woods (my neighborhood). Suzy, how's your Mama 'n them (your Mother and the other people in your family)? I hear tell (heard) she's been laid up (sick in bed)." Suzy replied, "Yes, ma'am, we're on our way to pick up some medicine for her." "Well, tell her I asked about her. And, my goodness gracious (oh), you sure have grown! I used to couldn't (once, I couldn't) see you over the counter, but you've shot up like a weed (grown a lot)," Miss Betty commented. 

She scooped up the girls' ice cream cones and passed them over the counter, reminding them, "Now, don't tump it over (dump it out)." "Yes, ma'am, Miss Betty," they replied just like their mamas(mothers) had taught them. The girls sat down to eat their ice cream. They were in hog heaven (a very happy place). Mary was finished lickity split, (really quickly) but Suzy was eating slower than molasses (quite slow). Mary said, "You've got to hurry, Suzy. We've piddled (wasted time) long enough!"  "Hold your horses (wait a minute), Mary, I just have a tee-niny bit (a little) left," Suzy replied. 

The girls cleaned up their mess and waved at Miss Betty as they headed for the door."Y'all come back to see us (come again soon), girls. And tell your Mama 'n them (your Mother and the other people in your family) I'm prayin' for her (talking to the Great Physician about her condition)," she said. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, Miss Betty," the girls said as they opened the door. Miss Betty complimented the girls to the people, who were in line to buy ice cream, "Now, those girls were raised right (taught well)," she said. "I've known their families all my life and y'all (you all) know I'm older than dirt (really old). They come from good stock (a wonderful family)." 

The girls walked down the sidewalk and passed several stores on their way to the drugstore. There was the hardware store, where they sold things that the girls didn't care diddly squat (at all) about like tools and other do-hickeys (things for which we don't know the names). They passed a shoe store, a dress shop, a Hallmark store, and the lingerie store, where they sold lacy drawers (underwear) and such. "I double dog dare (really dare) you to go in there, Suzy," Mary said. "Do what (What did you say)? No way! You're barking up the wrong tree (asking the wrong person)," Suzy assured her. Mary couldn't resist saying, "Well, don't get your panties in a wad (get all upset)!" The girls laughed and kept walking.  

Finally, they spotted the drugstore. Then, suddenly, it started to rain cats and dogs (rained really hard)!  They ran into the store dripping wet. "Ok, let's get a buggy (shopping cart) for all the stuff we need for Mama (mother)," Suzy said. They made their way to the cough syrups. There were so many different kinds that they couldn't make heads or tails of it all (couldn't understand). "Let's ask him," Suzy said as she pointed to a man, who was also looking at cough syrup. "We don't know him from Adam (he is a stranger), Suzy," Mary warned. "Sometimes, you act like you don't have a lick of sense (no sense whatsoever)," she said reminding her of what their Mamas always told them about talking to strangers. "Ok, well, don't have a conniption (a meltdown). You're such a worry wart (compulsive worrier). Let's just pick one and go," Suzy said.

They made their way over to the cokes (sodas/soft drinks) knowing that her Mama (Mother) would probably enjoy some being sick and all. Mary asked, "What kind of coke (soda/soft drink) does your Mama (mother) like, Suzy?"  "Let's get her a Dr. Pepper and a Sprite," Suzy said as she placed them in the buggy (shopping cart). "Now, we just need to get some new batteries for her clicker (remote control), Mary," Suzy remembered. Suzy knew her Mama couldn't watch TV from bed without the clicker (remote control).   

They finally made their way to the checkout and Mary laughed when she saw that Suzy's rain soaked hair had dried and left her with a big ol' cowlick (hair that stands up) in the front. They paid for their items and Mary quickly grabbed the bag with the batteries and cough syrup and left Suzy to get the heavy 2 liter drinks. "I have a bone to pick with you (something I want to talk to you about), Mary.  I think I got the short end of the stick (the worst side of the deal)," she said. "Oh, don't pitch a fit (get upset), Suzy," Mary giggled. Suzy snickered, "Lord have mercy (Oh), you just beat all I've ever seen (you're quite unique)!" The girls left and headed home.

On the way, they saw Billy, the bully prankster from school, heading toward them. Mary said, "Oh, isn't this just fine and dandy (Isn't this just great said sarcastically)?" He came over and got in their faces bragging that he'd been to the ice cream shop. "Well, woop-dee-doo (big deal)," they said. He offered to carry their heavy bags, but Mary leaned over and whispered to Suzy, "I wouldn't trust him any farther than I could throw him (I don't trust him at all). Knowing him, he's liable (likely) to run off with our cokes (sodas/soft drinks)."  "Come on, girls, let me carry those heavy drinks," Billy said teasingly. "We weren't born yesterday (we're not naïve), Billy," Suzy said.  "Dadgummit (the outer limits of allowable cursing when adults are around)," he said as he ran around them like a chicken with his head cut off (crazily). Mary pretended to call her Daddy (father) on her cell phone and that scared the living daylights out of Billy (scared him badly). He took off and they made their way home.              

The girls finally got to Suzy's house with all of the bags. They went into Suzy's Mama's room and saw that she was sleeping like a log (sleeping soundly).....or either playing possum (pretending to be asleep). She appeared to be dead to the world (sound asleep). Suzy whispered, "Mama?"  She woke up and looked at the girls. "We saw Miss Betty in town and she said she's prayin' (speaking to the Great Physician) for you," Suzy said.  "Well, bless her sweet heart (an expression of love and appreciation). She's so precious (dear)," Mama replied. The girls handed her the medicine and Suzy changed the batteries in the clicker (remote control) then mashed (pressed) the buttons to make sure it worked. Suzy said, "I'll just chunk (throw away) these old batteries. Is there anything else you need, Mama?"  "Well, mercy me, (my, my) I can't think of a thing. I'm just hunkey dorey (fine) now, thanks to the both of you," Mama (Mother) said. "You, girls, are just so darlin' (sweet and beloved).  Thank you, kindly (thank you very much)."  "You're welcome," they said just like their Mama taught them.

The End.


Did I leave anything out, my fellow Southerners?

Y'all have a good weekend now, ya hear?