Which came first? We'll never know.

Even I cannot believe I am telling you this but we had two kinds of salads for sandwiches at lunch yesterday.

Sometimes I just like to talk about food. Even though as I often say, this is not a recipe blog.

I was sitting right there in the pew in church when I got the hankering for egg salad.

I love egg salad and besides, I was hungry.

As it happened I had already hard-boiled a number of eggs and they were waiting, all peeled, in the refrigerator.

Oh and by the way it's true what they say on Pinterest: if you put a half teaspoon of baking soda into the boiling water with the eggs, they practically jump out of their shells. When it's over, I mean. After they're cooked.

I also had a large can of white chicken. I realize it's the lazy way but almost as much as I love egg salad, I love chicken salad made from canned chicken.

After I'd thought of egg salad and that can of chicken, I couldn't decide whether I wanted egg salad or chicken salad.

I looked down at my Bible -- and yes, I was listening to the message -- but even without spiritual guidance I knew that when it comes to chickens and eggs, one wouldn't exist without the other. And vice versa.

So I settled on having both.

We already had two kinds of good healthy bread in the pantry, and a few bags of chips. And it was very warm outside which as you know is the kind of weather that calls for a light refreshing lunch.

So when I got home, after I'd comforted Javier -- who suffers from acute separation anxiety -- and changed clothes, I opened up that can of chicken and raided the fridge.

To the chicken I added some red onion, for bite.

And some banana pepper rings, for zing.

And some celery for crunch, and I forgot to take a picture of that but you know what celery looks like.

Then I added a generous dollop of Mrs. Campbell's All Natural Sweet Chow Chow Home-Style Southern Relish, a/k/a The Great American Put-On. I sure hope they have that at your store.

I chopped up the hard-boiled eggs and put some in with the chicken and some in a bowl by themselves.

Into the bowl containing only diced hard-boiled eggs I introduced the triumvirate of French's Classic Yellow mustard, sweet pickle relish, and lemon pepper.

Lemon pepper and coarse kosher salt and coarse-ground black pepper are three substances without which I would not care to either cook or eat.

Oh and Tony Chachere's creole seasoning -- cherished by millions who cannot pronounce it but must have it -- is also a sine qua non of Jenny Cuisine. Or Zatarain's, if I have some, which I do. But I do not add those to these salads.

Then I dosed each of the two bowls with that absolute non-negotiable -- in my kitchen, anyway: Duke's Mayonnaise.

And the result was whee-doggie good.

The picture isn't fancy but I promise you, if you'd been here you would've enjoyed sharing a sammich with me and TG.

Oh and guess what we had to drink?

We shared a smoothie. One that contained both peanut butter and spinach.

I know. That sounds weird. I got the recipe from Pinterest.

Audrey does not like the peanut butter part but Erica does -- we all make these at our respective domiciles -- and I do, and TG said he liked it too but he'd like to taste it without peanut butter.

?????

At any rate what this smoothie contains is one cup of milk, one frozen banana, one teaspoon of peanut butter -- crunchy or smooth, whichever you have on hand -- and a half-cup of Chobani zero-percent vanilla yogurt.

And spinach. All the baby spinach leaves you care to cram into it.

I also added a handful of raw oatmeal.

And no TG and I are not turning into a couple of hippies -- there were no bean sprouts in sight, and no tofu, no Ravi Shankar music -- but that was a good lunch.

Fresh, cool, and flavorful, and relatively healthy. Except for those chips. 

And until we ate Girl Scout Lemonades for dessert, and may have had soda pop with those.

But then I do have my morale to keep up.

After lunch I made a "pretty" for my friend Sandra at church, and yes it involved sparkly beads.

And I wrapped it thusly ...

... which is another idea I got from Pinterest. Do you think it's cute? Or goofy? Feel free to be honest. And no, I did not put an egg salad sammy down in that lunch sack.

That is all for now.

Except, how do you make egg salad in your kitchen? Does anything go into the bowl besides eggs, pickle relish, salt, pepper (maybe lemon pepper), a spritz of mustard, and smooth creamy mayonnaise? Do tell.

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Happy Monday ~ Happy Week

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Baton Rouge calling

Where has she been? I can almost hear you thinking.

I have been in Baton Rouge. For yet another funeral.

Do you remember last October, when my Uncle Sherrill passed away?

And TG and I traveled down for the funeral, and we stayed with my mother's cousin, Darlene, and her husband Wayland, who makes homemade preserves, and biscuits in a little black iron skillet?

Well. Our beloved Darlene died in her sleep last Sunday night.

It was expected because she had been sick for a long time with COPD and various related complications, but it wasn't expected on Sunday night, if you know what I mean.

Darlene and Wayland had gone to bed and were holding hands and chatting, when Wayland drifted off to sleep.

He woke a few hours later to find that Darlene had drifted off to Heaven.

She's there now, and no oxygen tubes are needed or allowed, and her doting parents are holding her again.

Wayland watches the pallbearers

I know that reunion was a sight to behold. The angels rejoiced and so do we.

Although he cherishes Darlene's memory and loves Wayland as he loves all of my family, TG's dance card was full and he was not able to carry me to Baton Rouge.

So Erica volunteered. Isn't she a love? I will answer that: Yes.

On Monday afternoon I drove to her house in Atlanta. On Tuesday we drove to Louisiana and on Wednesday, after the funeral, we drove back to Atlanta.

I came home yesterday and that makes one thousand five hundred miles traveled in less than three days. I figure I was in the car for twenty-four of the sixty-nine hours I was gone from home.

Mama, Dody, Linda

But it was worth every mile and every minute, to be with my mom who is feeling acutely the loss of her beloved cousin after recently losing her brother, and to see my Aunt Linda and Uncle Dody again, also my sweet Aunt Judy, Uncle Sherrill's widow.

And of course to hug Wayland's neck and tell him we love him and are praying for him.

Then there's the fellowship after all is said and done, when families sit around eating delicious food prepared by church ladies, reminiscing, and there is so much laughter and also a few tears. It's all good.

Uncle Dody spoke at Darlene's funeral. I wish you could have been there to hear it.

Dody explained that Darlene's mother and his mother were sisters, and that as "only" cousins (because Darlene was an only child and her mother had only the one sister), they grew up together. Darlene was thirteen months older than Dody.

Uncle Dody

He told how, when he was a toddler, his mother (my Mamaw) got a job working for the State of Louisiana, and Darlene's mother, his aunt (my Great-Aunt Jenny), kept him during the day.

My Papaw dropped his boy Dody off at Aunt Jenny's house each morning. But rather than entering through the door, Dody says Aunt Jenny would open the window above her bed (where she was still snuggling with little Darlene), and Papaw handed Dody in through that window.

After snoozing for awhile longer, the three of them got up and Aunt Jenny made for Darlene and Dody a breakfast of fried eggs with saltine crackers crumbled on top.

Then it was playtime in the back yard for a couple of hours, after which Aunt Jenny summoned the children and handed them her six-pack metal Coca-Cola bottle carrier. 

Darlene's son Jeremy

Dody and Darlene, holding hands, walked a block to Campo's store and bought six bottles of hot Coca-Cola. The cold bottles cost more.

Back home again, Aunt Jenny took two of the little Cokes and put them in the freezer.

Then it was face-washing time. Dody says Aunt Jenny's method was to soap up a washrag, then grab you by the back of the head and swab you good until you were gasping.

Dody said because Darlene was Aunt Jenny's own child, she got washed first. He was second so he got washed with part of Darlene's dirt.

Tending to graves

Then it was down for naps. 

After naps, Aunt Jenny removed the Cokes from the freezer. By then a half-inch of ice had formed on top and they were perfectly cold. Darlene and Dody sat on the front porch and enjoyed their frosty beverages before resuming play in the back yard.

Darlene's father, my Great-Uncle Harold, was a carpenter. He had built for Darlene, his only baby, a to-scale playhouse that Dody says was nicer than the family's actual house.

Dody says Darlene served him so many imaginary cookies from her imaginary oven in the imaginary kitchen of her playhouse, he surely suffered from imaginary childhood obesity.

Slim and trim

Making and eating pretend cookies primed Darlene and Dody to accept the six cents apiece Aunt Jenny offered them later in the afternoon, when they would stand out in front and wait for the ice cream man to appear.

That would be a black man on a bicycle with a cold-box attached to the handlebars and a happy bell to ring.

Dody said the memories are so vivid. It was wonderful to hear him tell them.

After Darlene's graveside service we went over to the graves of my Mamaw and Papaw in the same cemetery, where my mother put fresh fake flowers.

Purple for remembrance

It was a beautiful day.

And I am glad to be home, and I hope you didn't have to go to a funeral this week.

That is all for now.

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Happy Ides of March ~ Happy Weekend

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Does this make you want fish, pizza, a dachshund, or a mute button?

Fridge MagnetsErica has been talking about wanting a dog.

You know how that goes: somebody is trying to give away puppies to good homes and they show you one or two specimens.

And you fall for it and suddenly all you can think about is puppy breath and darling puppy ears and the sweet snuggly pet-saturated moments you have heretofore been denied.

So anyway I said to her, well -- *covers Javier's ears* -- if I were ever for any reason going to get another dog, it would probably be a dachshund.

I think dachshunds are adorable.

In fact I've had them on the brain lately. If you follow me on Pinterest you know it's true. I have clearance to pin to the board Doxie Love.

TG likes dachshunds too and THEY LIKE HIM.

Long story.

Anyway that's why I'm showing you this YouTube.

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Happy Mondog

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Yes it was and yes they are and yes there is and yes I do

Yesterday it was my birthday. I heard recently that birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.

And did you know there is a nail polish named Pirate?

Well there is, so naturally I received a bottle, from my daughter Audrey. Thanks, Audge. I will have me some fun with that.

The kids also sent me a chocolate/chocolate cake from Shari's Berries. Thanks, kids; I will have me some fun with that too.

Andrew sent me roses, which cheer me every time I look at them. Thank you again, son.

TG took me to Red Robin where, because I am officially Red Robin Royalty, I was given a free birthday burger.

To be specific it was the Whiskey River Barbecue Burger. Of which I am still dreaming. Every crumb was that good. And the bottomless fries at RR set some kind of steak fry standard, I am certain.

Then we went to Belk and I bought a few things at the Lancome counter, and received the lagniappe.

When I returned home there was additional birthday mail. Stephanie and her family sent me a generous Amazon gift card and two beautiful pens. I love gift cards and I love those pens. Thanks, Stephie et al.

Tomorrow TG and I are meeting my mother and my sister in Newberry, South Carolina, for lunch. I'll bet you a hamburger I get more presents.

I love my birthday! And I love you too.

Yes I do.

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Happy Weekend

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I have no words

Well. Maybe a few. Hundred.

And it's a good thing because although a picture may be worth a thousand of them, simple communication appears to be a thing of the past.

What happened was, on Wednesday, February 13th, TG and I were on our way to prayer meeting when I noticed something interesting on the marquee of our public library.

It announced a local photography contest and provided a number to call for details.

Like I said we were driving past so I didn't catch the number, but I made a mental note to call the library the next day and find out about the photography contest.

This was the night before Valentine's Day when, after church, TG and I went to Kroger and looked at mushy cards and lovey-dovey balloons, but purchased only cold hard candy.

So on Cupid's big day, Thursday, February 14th, in between ambrosial servings of Dove chocolate, I called the library. I had to leave a message because real people do not answer the phone there.

In my message I said that I was calling to learn the particulars of the photography contest advertised on the marquee.

When by the next afternoon I had not heard back from a librarian, I decided to look on the library's website for information about the photography contest.

I had to dig but in the end I was able to ascertain that all entries had been due on or before Monday, February 11th.

Well shut my mouth and bless my heart. I'd missed the deadline.

So I forgot about the whole thing.

Until the morning of the following Tuesday, February 19th, when I received a call from a librarian.

She was very nice. First she apologized for not returning my call from the day before.

It had actually been five days since I'd called but let's not get all technical.

She went on to say that if I could get my photo submitted by that afternoon, they would be glad to accept it for consideration.

I said okay and thanked her because like I said she was exceedingly nice, but after we hung up I began to wish I had asked her more about the type of photographs they wanted and whatnot.

The description on the website was vague:

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Photography Contest

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

Combine your love of books with your photography skills and enter our photo contest. Prizes will be awarded for best color, best black and white, and best interpretation of the theme.

Submissions are due by February 11.

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Love of books: Check.

Photography skills: It's a matter of opinion but at least I have good cameras.

So I decided to set my table with dishes and put books on the plates like they are better than meat or drink. Which in some instances is true and in others, it depends what's on the menu.

If I had to pick a favorite book of all time it would be Jane Eyre, but I like the vintage cover on my copy of Gone With the Wind better, so I made it the focus of my table.

I took about fifty pictures and after dithering for approximately two hours, I chose one to print. I even gave it a name: Better 'n a Biscuit.

I put my eight by ten color photo into an envelope wth a card on which I wrote Better 'n a Biscuit, my name, address, cellphone number, email address, marital status, mother's maiden name, birthdate, blood type, Social Security Number, favorite color, favorite food, name(s) of pets, pet peeves, and the kind of camera I had used to take my picture.

At the library I was directed to the reference desk where the ladies were all -- again -- exceedingly nice. They ooohed and aaaahed over my picture, then hung it up alongside the others on a display wall. I began to feel like a kindergartner.

A local professional photographer would be called in to do the judging about a week later.

I went over to look at the other entries and one of the librarians was standing there. She was gazing at the pictures so I pointed to one and remarked that I couldn't tell what it was.

She said she thought it was ice crystals. It was a beautiful and evocative black and white; I actually liked it a lot. But I couldn't figure out what it had to do with love of books.

The librarian explained that the contest entries were to be a depiction of something found in a favorite book. She said when they'd asked the photographer of the ice crystal picture what book it was meant to represent, he'd answered: Oh. I guess just put Frosty the Snowman.

Oh, I said. How I wish I'd known that. Because if I had, I would not have submitted a picture of Gone With the Wind on a plate, with a fork beside it.

Instead I would have submitted this picture of one of the actual grave angels that figure prominently in Thomas Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel.

Which I think would have been a slam dunk. But I digress.

The librarian worried aloud that she felt many of the entrants had perhaps not understood the theme of the contest very well. I remarked casually that the instructions had been nebulous at best.

Then she gave me a little green flyer which I read when I got home. It said there would be an awards ceremony for the photography contest winners on Sunday, March 3rd, at three o'clock.

Three three thirteen, at three. I could remember that.

On the way to church last Sunday morning, when we drove by the library, I remembered that there was to be an awards ceremony for the photography contest that afternoon.

Only, I hadn't heard anything so I supposed I had not won a prize. It did not occur to me to attend the ceremony anyway.

The next afternoon, Monday, March 4th, my phone notified me of a voicemail. It was from a librarian, informing me that I was one of the winners in the photography contest.

When I called the library to confirm there had in fact been an awards ceremony on March 3rd (there  had), and to ask why I had not been contacted so that I'd know to attend, a librarian said, "That was an oversight but we hoped all the participants would come whether they won anything or not."

I said okay but why wouldn't you take a few minutes to call or email  the three winners just to tell them they'd won? So they could be all happy about it, and make plans to come in on Sunday?

You know, short and sweet: "Congratulations! You are one of the winners of our photography contest. We hope to see you at the awards ceremony on Sunday, March 3rd, at three."

I said, because I am flabbergasted that nobody called me. I live a four-minute drive from the library. When I didn't hear from you, I figured there was no reason to show up. In fact it never occurred to me to show up.

She answered: "We've made a note about calling the winners so maybe we can do that next year."

The upshot: They didn't have the time or inclination to call me the day before the awards ceremony, but they had both in abundance on the day after.

So anyway I missed my two point six seconds of local fame. I bet nobody will even ask for my photograph autograph when I go to the main desk to claim my prize: a gift certificate to Shutterfly.

Here you go: my winning entry.

Which division of the contest do you think I won? We know it can't be best black and white, so that leaves best color or best interpretation of the theme.

But don't ask me. They didn't say.

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Happy Wednesday

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