Southern charm

…

Annie had hired two Mexican day laborers to build a greenhouse behind the servant’s entrance in the back of the house. She had seen them sitting across from the hardware store in the bed of a Ford pickup, and yes they were illegals, but she knew the system only existed because it worked, so she felt no shame in offering them a few days worth of work for a fair wage. Besides that, she was uncomfortable soliciting someone from town, knowing the trip down memory lane that she’d be forced to travel and the unwelcome questions she'd be forced to politely refuse to answer.

Miguel and Mike, as they referred to one another, knew what they were doing.  In two days they were finished building the greenhouse’s frame and structure and were advising Annie on what magazines to buy seed, soil, and fertilizer from. When they asked if they could help with any other work on the house, Annie was actually excited to show them around. So Annie, Miguel, and Mike walked in and out of every room checking off things that needed to be done, with Annie vetoing any suggestions that just seemed beyond her concern. When they were done, Annie had agreed to about 2 weeks more of their time, and she had added 2 additional illegal contractors to her list of laborers – friends of her new friends, of course. She knew that they would be painting, hanging new drywall, and fixing pipes and wires for longer than that though. And after they were done it would be time to fix the roof or clean out the gutters, and maybe they could help her decide what to do with all of her newly reacquired acreage. They agreed to get started on the inside one week later, giving Annie time to unpack and see what else wasn’t working in the old Wilson House.

As Miguel and Mike left the house, Annie followed them out and onto the porch, mentally adding four new acquaintances to her hometown "outsider insider list." She was happy to have the company being that it was a very short list, for the time being. Out of the corner of her eye, she was set aback to see a shadow being cast around the corner of the house of a man rocking in her rocking chair. She was uncomfortable with the thought of who was sitting on her porch, in her chair, how long they had been there, and what they wanted. She'd only been back for a few days, but everyone in town had probably known for weeks that she had bought her parents' house back from her brother. "The girl who had turned her back to travel the world had come back to dig up dirt on her country town," she was sure they thought. Few people were happy to see her, though a true outsider would have thought nothing of the kind. She, as an insider, had always been able to see through the thick and fallacious Southern charm that interlopers mistook as sincere and endearing. She'd seen plenty of it the last few days. With a smile on their faces and an intentionally inquisitive tone to their voices, they'd ask with their shifting eyes, "What are you doin' back home, Hon?" In reality, they were uneasy about her being back. They didn't know why the big city journalist was back in their town. She didn't need trouble sitting on her front porch, hiding and waiting to ruin her night.

Annie turned the corner to see who was there, but the sun was setting and she couldn’t see much more than a black blur. “I’ve gotten five phone calls this week telling me that Annie Wilson moved back to Magnolia,” a familiar voice said. 

Annie relaxed. This wasn't one of them, but she couldn't place the voice. She squinted and almost winced at how bright the sun was. She held her hand up trying to block the violently brilliant orange light, typical of the Southern setting sun, but was still unable to recognize through the spaces in her fingers the dark seated shadow with the familiar voice.

“Did you come back to save this place?” his deep Southern drawl was sincere, and had always been a turn on for Annie.

“I really am sorry, but you’re gonna have to give me a second to…” Annie stopped as the man stood up and she recognized that undeniable and unforgettably wavy hair. “Will?” she whispered. Annie took three quick steps and reached for her friend. Standing on her toes, she gave him a hug, and he greeted her as he had for so many years, “Hi, Sweetheart,” he said with a smile in his voice, kissing her cheek through her hair.

… 

To walk a day on those pads...

"You should stop watching tv. Go outside. Have some fun. Go play on the swing set," his mom said. Her son turned around to look up at her.

"Ok. I'm kinda bored. I don't really want to play on the swings though. I can't decide what I want to do," the little boy said scrunching his face.

"Hmmm... time to use your imagination. If you could do anything you wanted today, what would you want to do?"

After thinking for less than a minute, the boy got up from the spot where he always sat, on the floor, in front of the tv, and declared with a pointed finger in the air, “today I’m going to be the cat!”  

“I’m going to lie around the house and move from place to place following the sun. I’m going to swish my tail ever so slightly for most of the day, and then whip it back and forth whenever the dog walks by. I’m going to lick my paw and lazily clean my ears and whiskers. I’m going to look you in the face with big round eyes, and blink, blink, blink, instead of responding. When you’re out of the room, I’m going to scream, “MMMmmmmeeeeoooowwww?” When you least expect it, I’m going to jump off the chair in the living room, run to the dining room, jump to the table, then to the counter, then to the top of the pantry cupboard. From there I'll tease the dogs. When you go outside, I’m going to stretch up on my hind feet and bat at the door handle. I’m going to scream a slightly different, “MmmmmmEEEooooWWW!!” I'll beg to go outside and when you let me out, I'll eat grass, and attack bugs, and hunt birds. When a car drives by I'll pouf up real big, and when somebody walks past the house, I'll hiss because I hate strangers. When you’re walking up or down stairs, I’ll try to trip you. I’m going to jump up and rub on your knee, run two stairs in front of you, wait, and weave into your legs. Anytime you move, I’m going to follow you. I'll be your shadow. When you go into the bathroom, I'll sit and scream at the door until you let me in. Then I'll sit and watch you 'til I get bored. Then I'll try and knock all of your soaps and creams off of the counter and into the sink. I'll also pull out the sink stoppers because I hate those things. I'll pull some toilet paper off the roll and try to eat it as fast as possible before you can get to me and make me spit it out. At night, I’ll hear you open a bottle of pop. I don’t know what room I’ll be in or how far away I’ll come running from, but I’ll come. If you don’t give me the bottle cap, I’ll rub my face all over the mouth of the bottle. If you walk away from the bottle, I might knock it over… if you don’t give me the cap. After you throw the cap for me to chase, I’ll fetch it and then take it into the laundry room and put it in my food. I’ll eat around it like I haven’t eaten in days. When I’m full, I’ll bring the bottle cap back to you, and you will play with me. If you don’t play with me, if you don’t pay attention to me, I'll dig my claws into your nice leather furniture… or maybe I’ll jump onto your bookshelf and start knocking off all your little knickknacks. I'll make you play with me. While you’re getting ready for bed, I’ll start planning my night. There will be a lot that I need to take care of while everyone in the house is sleeping. I need to throw up somewhere. That will take a bit of time to plan. Should it be in the kitchen where someone will step on it and everyone will see it? Or should it be in a corner somewhere and you won’t see it for days? I’ll also need to knock over your garbage can. I’m sure there is something in there that you’ve been keeping from me. I’ll pull those stoppers out of the sink again because I’m sure you’ve put them back in by now. I also need to jump into bed before you’ve tucked in so that I can make sure I get the best sleeping position.  Around five, I’ll wake you up so you can give me another handful of food. You love that. At some point, I’ll knock something off your desk. It'll fall on the dog. She’ll jump up all scared and stupid. That will make me happy.”

“And just like that you’ve got a busy day planned,” his mother said chuckling and shaking her head.

The little boy just looked his mother in the face. And with big round eyes, he blinked - blink, blink, blink - instead of responding. 

R&R

He sat in the cold watching his breath. It was dark, which meant it was after 3am. He could feel that winter was right around the corner again. He was picturing himself on the gray beaches. He could hear the waves from his front steps. He didn't deserve such beauty, he thought, so he closed his eyes tightly. He shook his head, trying to erase the images of sunsets and elder fishing camps. His son was sitting on the couch, watching his father's shadow through the front window. It was a behavior his family was familiar with. He lived in a permanent haze, afterall. Today it was at its best though. It was payday, which meant he was able to buy the good stuff. 

Every other Thursday, like today, he drinks R&R. By mid-week he's moved to Listerine. When times get desperate he'll settle for gasoline.

Sure he's an addict. He's also just getting by, coping with his life. The village kids walk past him and mutter. The grandmothers shake their heads, hissing and pointing, intending to scold. The troopers know his first, last, and middle names, but they still show proper respect. His wife remembers a better year, and she loves his children harder because of who their father was. When he sobered up, there was always another apology to make. He felt he was always apologizing. He was ready to do what was best for his family. He wasn't afraid to die. They would be better if he was better, but they'd also be better if he was gone, a hard realization for a father, husband, brother, and son. He stumbled out the front door while the sun was peaking over the horizon.

The local bank had two cameras - one for each door - and is open 6 days a week. The distribution center had eleven cameras and a single door and is only open 2 weeks a month. The bank tellers knew everyone in the village by name, but never knew who they'd see on any given day. At the distribution center, the clerk was waiting. He knew who he would see on the second Friday of every month. He knew everyone in the village that still had enough money to buy another bottle of the good stuff.

Duckball

This is Durga and her Duckball...

This is what is on Durga's mind most times...

(Sung to the tune of the 1960s Batman theme song.)

"Duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, DUCKBALL! 

Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury... DUCKBALL!

Duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, DUCKBALL!"

***


She takes the toy away.


***


"Give it back. Why are you taking it? I want it. Give it back. That's my duckball.

(20 mins later) Why did you take duckball? I want it back. Give it back. Did you hide it somewhere? Is it under here? Is it up there on that thingy? Where is it? 

(another 20 mins later) I miss duckball."

***

"Here. Go play upstairs," she says as she tosses the toy.

***

"DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKBAAAAAAAAALL!

(Still being sung to the tune from the 1960s Batman theme song.)

Duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, duckball, DUCKBALL!

Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury, bury... DUCKBALL!"

2nd Shelf Hummus

I lovingly refer to this as my 2nd shelf hummus because I use almost everything from the 2nd shelf in my fridge.  Again, I don't measure... but here are the ingredients and approximate measurements.

2 cans of garbanzo beans (organic, rinsed)
3 mediumish cloves of garlic
2 palmfuls of cumin
2 tbsp of tahini
juice from one lemon (go with less if you don't like lemon. this is not a problem for me.)
salt (go light on the salt w/ the green olives) and pepper to taste
a handful of green olives
about 6-7 roasted red bell peppers
2 sundried tomatoes
a few handfuls of spinach
2 tbsp of greek yogurt or cottage cheese
Extra virgin olive oil to get it the consistency that you want (I go with about 3-4 tbsp).

Everything gets put in the food processor.  The order I go with is garlic, sundried tomatoes, lemon juice, and seasonings first (to get the garlic and tomatoes finely processed). After that everything else can go in.

I serve this with veggies, tomatoes, feta cheese, and whole wheat pita.  I haven't found anyone yet that doesn't love it. Below, you can see it in a fancy Tupperware container, along with a beer. (The white is feta cheese, the red is roasted peppers. The beer is a Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy.)

She hated herself for thinking it.

She lived in the Portland neighborhood. Her aunt had been murdered; her dad, too. Her mom wouldn’t let her play outside, and the kids on the bus called her fat yet she was one of the smaller kids on her block.  For months, she paid the kids at her newest school in stickers, lunch money, and snacks so that they would be her friends. It never really worked though, and one afternoon, alone in her room, her mom found her clutching a handmade card, rocking back and forth, undefinable tears streaming down her face. Her teacher had made everyone in the class decorate and sign the piece of purple construction paper. It was meant to act as an apology. 

“I’m sorry we say your fat.”

“U R nice.”

“You arn’t ugly. That was mean.”

“I hope that we can play Wii soon.”

Her mom furiously called the school. Yelled at the bus driver. Told the teacher that she should be a better role model. None of this made life better. This wasn’t why her daughter was crying.

Aneysha was 8 years old. She ate because she loved food. She loved thinking about food. She loved the comfort and momentary control that planning a meal gave her over her unreasonably confounding life. Her mom weighed 408 lbs. Every one she knew had diabetes. Aneysha took medication because she was a Type 2 diabetic, too, not to mention asthmatic and arthritic. Her knees hurt all the time. Her uncle lost his leg last spring to diabetes so every time she has knee pain she thinks that her leg is going to need to be amputated. It doesn’t help that her mom constantly tells her she is going to end up just like him.

She prays every day. 

Her mom doesn’t know how to just be a mom. She takes on too much, and feels obligated to say yes to everything, to help everyone.  Child protective services were called to her home because her children are “obese.” She is to blame. Her doctors tell her Aneysha is dangerously obese, even though they went to the doctor for Strep throat. She is to blame. Because he thought it made for a funny picture, her brother used to feed Aneysha Big Macs when she was a chubby cheeked 2-year-old. He now tells her she is to blame. Aneysha just wants to play games with her mom, spend time with her mom, laugh, and be loved by her mom. Her mom doesn’t have time for that.

Can’t there just be some pill that takes away hunger? Why won’t the doctors give her that for Aneysha? She knows there has to be a pill like that.

Aneysha didn’t ask to be part of an extended family of 12. She didn’t ask to be moved from complex to complex whenever “Uncle” ____ no longer wants to be part of the family. Did you know that food stamps only buy you $7 worth of fresh fruits and vegetables a week? Aneysha probably wants more than that.

Her older cousin has a job and makes his own money. He brings McDonalds home every night. He’s got a high metabolism.  Metabolism is one of the only five syllable words that Aneysha knows. She wants to be like her older cousin.  He calls her fat and tells her that he hates her, her mom, this house, and everything else since his mom abandoned him and custody was given to his fat aunt.

One day, Aneysha’s mom never came home. She didn’t abandon her family. She was 42 years old and her youngest was only two. Her heart was big; she was Big Momma, after all. She just couldn’t make it anymore.

Aneysha was sent to her grandmother’s. MeeMee, as she was known, was embarrassed by Aneysha. She did not want to be seen in public where people would associate her with this child. This wasn’t the cute chocolate baby that MeeMee remembered. Her skin had darkened, especially around her neck, a side effect of diabetes, and MeeMee always made Aneysha cover her neck. MeeMee was 70, there were no children in her building, and she was too old for an 8 year old child. As exercise and a meal, MeeMee had Aneysha walk to the corner to pick up her dinners every night. She got what she could with $3.

When Aneysha was 9, her late mother’s self-proclaimed worst fear came true. Aneysha was over 5 feet tall at that time, and could be mistaken for a teenager if a stranger didn’t take the time to talk to her. She wasn’t sexually active, but her body had developed prematurely. On her walk to get dinner, she was raped, her plastic wallet was stolen, and she was knocked unconscious. Her grandmother, too ashamed to see her, had to be forced by a doctor to sit by Aneysha’s bed in the pediatric ICU.

“Aneysha is not pregnant,” the doctor said. Aloud, the doctor quietly informed MeeMee that Aneysha would probably never be able to have children. Silently, the doctor prayed that the cycle of pain would end for this poor child. At least the cycle ends here, the doctor thought, but she hated herself for thinking it.

My guacamole

I don't measure things... so bear with me.

This is the best guacamole you'll ever taste. There might be others that you like, but you really won't be able to ever find any guacamole that you'll be able to say... no, I definitely like this one better.  I promise. And if you don't like avocado (I know people like this), you'll still love this guac because it actually tastes like something other than green mush baby food.

2 hass avocados
2-3 green onions
10-12 cherry tomatoes
2 small handfuls of cilantro finely chopped
s & p
the equivalent of a palm full and a half of pickled jalapenos
1/2 a lime's juice or so

aaaand... to make it Salvadoran style: 2 hard boiled eggs (finely chopped)

Mix it up... eat it.

If you want to take it to someone's house as a dip, add a can of black beans (drained and rinsed and warmed up in a saute pan), and a can of corn.  You can also sit down on your couch with a bowl of this and a bag of tortilla chips and feel good about how much of it you can stuff in your face... because it's good for you!