Mr.Studley and I went to the local farmer's market this week for fresh fruit and veggies. A friend at church gave us a bag full of huge onions from his garden. Plus, Yankee Neighbor gave us a bag full of big tomatoes from his garden. I tell you, we've been eatin' gooood in the neighborhood!
Yankee Neighbor isn't a derogatory term. I have nothing against Yankees. Some of my relatives are Yanks. I can just never remember the guy's name. His northern accent really stands out among those of us with an east Texas twang to our talk. That, and the colorful expletives he often uses to pepper his speech. Sheesh! The guy could make a sailor blush. He is a nice guy, though, and he grows a great garden every year, and often shares the bounty with our family and others in the 'hood.
The "yellow meater" watermelon above, or rather what's left of it, was one Mr.Studley picked out at the farmer's market. Since I'd never eaten yellow watermelon before, he'd suggested last week that we should get one soon. Only he didn't call it a 'yellow watermelon', he referred to it as a 'yellow meater', or truth be told, it came out sounding more like "yella meater". I've been teasing him about that, assuring him no one calls them that. Lo and behold, as we were paying for our purchases at the market, the lady taking our money asked "you do know that's a yeller meater, don't you?".
I stand corrected.
That's my son flipping burgers for our cookout last night. The weiners were to follow. I love eating food that someone else cooks. I love eating food cooked outdoors because there's so little clean up involved in the kitchen. For that matter, I love food. I love eating. My mirror mocks me with that fact each time I look it's way. Stupid mirror.
While dinner was being cooked, I called my mom to get my dad's homemade ice-cream recipe. I'm sure I could've found one to use, but I wanted it to be his. I mixed it up, then Hubs froze it in the ice-cream maker. It turned out delicious, just like my dad's. As I was eating it last night, I thought about him and how much he'd enjoy being here partaking, which made me a bit sad. Then, it was as if I saw him sitting there in Heaven, eating a huge bowl of the stuff (and not having to worry about what it was doing to his blood sugar), and he tipped his bowl to me, as if to say "cheers". He was smiling and laughing and the image of it made me cry and smile all at the same time.
I know what the meaning behind July 4th is and I don't mean to take away from that at all. For me, at this age and stage of my life, it was about memories. All day long yesterday, I found myself looking back on various July 4th activities I spent as a child. I remember many summers that our family spent at the lake. My mom and dad made it such a fun time. Mom would fry up at least three or four chickens ahead of time, which she'd bring in the cooler along with a huge bowl of her potato salad. Oh, and there was her famous Coke-A-Cola cake. My mouth is watering just thinking of it.We'd have coolers of drinks, cold watermelons, ice-cream freezers full of ice-cream, and family and friends. It all just seemed ordinary to me as a kid. I didn't have a clue how much work my folks put into making those fun times happen. I guess that's because they didn't make it look like work. It was fun. Good family fun...which I thought would go on forever.