It came a storm last night. Pur-dee storm. Everything is wet and I'm sure the humidity will be high today.
Jamie just walked out wearing my clothes. He was wearing a pair of my boxers as shorts over his undies and a grey t-shirt of mine. He's off to his parents. He probably thought there was a better chance of breakfast down there.
Last night his mom made ribs in a pan, green beans in a skillet (they're kind of mushy over cooked but good), and both fried green tomatoes and corn meal fried squash and okra. It was all good, but kind of greasy. The squash and green beans and tomatoes and okra were from the garden. The black eyed peas were last year's peas. It's a whole different world here.
If I'm real lucky, his dad will make biscuits one morning this weekend. They rock. I'm sure they're not good for diabetes, but they're so good. I'm sure having as many as I do is bad for me too. I'll have one with buttermolasses, one withwhatever jelly they have, one with just butter, etc. And hot, fresh out of the oven. And often there's a jar of some kind of homemade preserves on the table.
I hear a distant roll of thunder and wonder if there's more rain to come today. I don't even have a book and MyFella has horrible television reception.
And it's not even 9a.m. yet.
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2:00p.m. and MyFella is out there with his dad digging post holes for a fence he (MyFella, not his dad) knocked over yesterday in the truck. I tried my hand making some chicken salad today and kind of got stalled on it. I should have just run to town and bought burgers or something. I'm so not a cook.
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