Monthly Archives: January 2013

Gus, Guster, Gussie – Still Deciding

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Gus has a story just like the rest of us.  He and his mother were found scampering on the interstate, cars buzzing, people moving on and the big world swallowing him up.  A friend stopped after witnessing the heroics of his mother in her rear view mirror.  Lovingly carrying her son by the nape of his neck, momma dog would try to put him down to walk on his own and Gus would head for traffic.  She would pick him up and the whole thing would start all over again.  The story has a lot more to it, but I our story with Gus starts with a bath in the laundry sink, smaller than the kitchen and less deep than the bathroom, he’s really little…

Gus In The Tub

“I’m gonna love you, lady…even if you have to bathe me.”

“Will I get to stay here forever?”…

 Time for bed…

Good night Gus, Guster, Gussie.

Coca Cola Brisket

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Coca Cola Brisket

Ingredients:

Brisket

Coke 10 or 12 ounces

Heinz Chili Sauce

Onion Soup Mix

Directions:

1.  Choose a brisket by bending in half in the grocery store.  I was told this secret by an old time barbeque man who makes delicious, melt in your mouth brisket with the greatest of ease.  If the brisket folds in half easily, without struggle, you have a good one.

2.  Spray roasting pan with cooking spray.  Place brisket fat side up and pour chili sauce then coke on top.  Sprinkle onion soup mix on top.  Cover with foil and bake at 350 degrees for 3 to 3 1/2 hours.   Let sit for 1o minutes then slice on the diagonal.  Pour juices on top in serving dish.  Gets better as it sits.

 

The Days of Summer…All In Good Time

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When it’s summer

I long for fall

and

When it’s winter

I long for summer

then

When I was young

I longed for adventure

and

When I am old

I long for rest.

Anonymous

 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;  A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;  A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;  A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;  A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.   Ecclesiates 3:1-8

The Chicken Chronicles: A Letter to Reba

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Dear Sweet Reba,

You were just a chicken to the common hoard, but to me you were a kindred spirit.   At first I took you as grouchy and kind of pushy, then I realized you were the one busy laying all the eggs and minding the nest while the others were mindlessly pecking about.  I get grouchy too when I’m the one doing all the work and no one appreciates my efforts.  You seemed a little put out when I raised the egg box lid to peek at you when you were laying, but then we established a sweet kind of banter between us.  I loved how you responded to words of encouragement with  your chirp chirp chirp so charming and different from the usual boc boc boc or however that goes.  When I picked you up you nuzzled your head close to me and rested there just like a real hug.

Your house was as close to the back door that I can get it without bringing it on the porch.   I kept you behind a fence with a roof and locked you in every night without fail.  For exercise and because you loved it so much I let you out every evening  just before dusk.  I am so sorry that I went back in the house for five minutes.  I heard the commotion and ran to find you in the mouth of the neighbor’s dog.  I am sick and mad and angry.  Even though I don’t consider myself to be an over the top animal lover, I was the care taker of you and I feel responsible and that  I disappointed you by leaving you alone for a moment.

In our neck of the woods chickens are not valued and considered disposable.  Its the farmer’s way and I understand.  What I don’t understand is a domestic pet that is allowed and encouraged to hunt other domesticated animals.  The consequence of a neighbor allowing their dog to roam and hunt freely should not be me getting permission from that same owner to “just shoot the dog”.  Reba, I could have shot the dog and maybe you would have not died in my arms.  Knowing you, I think you would have chosen to allow the dog to live just like I did.

Silly of me to write a letter to you a chicken, I think, but I needed to say I have been sad since you have gone and your sisters have not been the same.  You kept things in order.  They felt safe because you were there watching over them and alerting them to danger.  You did your job well and you meant something to this make shift little farm.  Bless you, dear girl.  You are dearly missed.

Love,

The Irish Lady