GREASE ~ You're the One That I Want!!

A friend sent me an email with a warning of the consequences of eating bacon grease...it has a silly picture of someone jiggling around in a fat suit. Does anyone use bacon grease anymore? That was my seasoning of choice all my life. Growing up we had a little silver can with a lid and after frying bacon for breakfast or sandwiches, the grease was never thrown out but saved like gold in the little can to be used in other foods. Seemed like a respectable way to recycle at the time and kept us from having to figure out what to do with a hot pan of grease.

We used it in pinto beans, green beans, squash fried with onions, and just about anything else we cooked in a pan. Everything got a dollop of bacon renderings which rendered the dish more than tasty. I don't ever remember hearing the words "cholesterol" or "nitrates". All I knew was that it tasted great!

When I married in 1971, one of my shower gifts was my own grease can. This one was red (my favorite color) and came with a set of salt and pepper shakers. It must have been the Cadillac of grease holders because it had a strainer. It held its coagulated treasure for nearly 20 years before developing a pinhole. I had to toss it about the same time that Mikey was diagnosed with heart disease. I thought it a curious coincidence.

Today, I still have the salt and pepper shakers, I still have Mikey, he still has heart issues, but the grease is gone. I miss my grease!

Raindrops on Roses, Whiskers on Kittens

Some things are just so enjoyable that they deserve a special place in your heart. One of those things is my Class of 66 email group. Several years ago, one of our enterprising classmates took it upon herself to start an email group of friends who had all graduated from high school together. This wasn't a small feat as our class was the largest to pass through Harlingen High at the time with around 500 students. Of course, there aren't that many who've signed up to be a part, but I think our percentage of participants would be above the norms if there was a place to figure all that out. I'd bet we have about 60 anyway. And whether they ever bother to type in a joke, opinion, or argument, they leave their names on the list. We one giant clique! Our reunions are the best...again thanks to our one special lady. We cruise together as schedules and $$$ permit. We are at the stage where we really appreciate each other's company. Maybe because we can all relax now that we're not worrying about a date for Saturday night.

Lately we've been meandering down memory lane and what a joy that's been. Remembering places we visited, restaurants that served us well, dates with someone special, teachers, hobbies, and escapades that we marvel at surviving...it's all being discussed in short snippets that make for easy reading...and easy laughter. Every class from every school should be as blessed as we are. After reading the latest posts tonite (we're on to our favorite clubs/restaurants in the Mexican border towns), I'm feeling the love. Go Cards!

Lipstuck

I am grappling with a new problem that I think has something to getting older, but I'm not sure. My lips are getting harder and harder to decorate. I don't remember having this problem even a year or so ago. I'm in the bathroom every morning in the world putting on my warpaint and when it comes to my lips, I am not doing one thing differently than I ever did. As long as I'm in the bathroom looking into my magic mirror, I look great!

Let me get out in broad daylight on the way to work and the person looking back at me in the car mirror isn't the same lady I painted up in the bathroom. My lipstick will be below my lip, up over one side of my upper lip, missing one whole little patch (upper and/or lower)...and I don't know why! I can feel my hand firmly gripping the lipstick and covering the appropriate areas. I have no idea why I wind up looking so out of whack. It's not all my makeup, just my lipstick.

I thought it might be my eyes. I just had my glasses redone and it didn't help. I look like a pathetic old lady...or a Lucille Ball wannabe. Maybe I'll think about getting them tattooed.

How Pathetic is This

I just noticed that I hadn't blogged in a month. It's not that I don't have anything to say...believe me, I have plenty to say. It does surprise me that when I get the time to sit and spin, all of the great things that have crossed my mind kept on going...right out of my pretty little head!
I vaguely remember wanting to mention something about illegal immigrants again, but it's gone. Maybe for the best. Then there was an update on my big deal that has had me under it's spell for a half a year. Finally closed, I'll get my $$$ tomorrow, and I'm not near as excited as I thought I would be. Maybe when the check hits the bank. I'll let you know if I break out in a happy dance at my desk. Then there's the grandkids, but how many times can I tell you how cute they are before you quit believing me. Just wait til I figure out how to post pictures here. The class cruise may sail without me, I haven't got my trailer for Sisters On The Fly, and my car still needs a tuneup.
I think its just summer doldrums setting in. Don't worry...something will tickle my fancy here before long. You'll be the first to know!

Paterfamilias

Just pausing a minute to acknowledge that Sunday is Father's Day...so, if you haven't bought a card or gift, there's still time.

I was blessed to have a father who taught me many things. I never thought of his as a financial genius but he managed to raise 4 kids who didn't realize how poor they were until they were grown. I'm sure Mom had alot to do with this.

I do remember his first financial lesson though. I was pretty young and he told me and my sibs and assorted cousins that he was thinking about buying some land and starting a turtle farm. He went on to explain that he would first take about an acre and build a maze on it with the path going back and forth. The boards wouldn't have to be larger than a 2 x 4 as turtles aren't very big. Once that was done, we'd all get to help collect turtles found trying to cross the road. We'd rescue them from being run over and give them a new life on the farm. All they had to do was journey through the maze eating little bits of lettuce while their shells grew. As they exited the maze, Dad would shoot them with a cattle prod and they'd jump out of their shells. Then, he'd put them back at the beginning of the maze and they'd begin the trek over again eating lettuce...and growing a new shell. We'd have a never-ending supply of shells.

So how would we make money with this? Why, we'd fill the turtle shells with concrete and sell them for doorstops...we'd be rich!

What a plan, what a dad! Happy Father's Day!