Southern Hospitality

Yesterday I had the opportunity to visit an elderly friend.  My friend is an elegant southern lady and we had a great visit, but the point of this story is the southern hospitality experience.   My friend's daughter brought us iced tea in cutglass glasses and small cookies all of which were presented on a lovely napkin covered tray.  We chatted for a while and then went outside to view my friend's flower garden.  The afternoon felt like a chapter from F. Scott Fitzgerald without the emotional angst.  I absolutely loved it.  It took me back to memories of my mother and her church circle/sorority/club meetings.

 First we cleaned the house from top to bottom just in case someone looked under my bed and discovered a dust bunny!  One never knows what club women will do, after all!  Then came the cooking.  Finger sandwiches were a must.  When I first heard the term I was horrified that anyone would want to eat a finger-shaped sandwich.  Imagine my releif when I found that a finger sandwich was just bread without the crust cut into pretty shapes with some kind of filling other than peanutbutter and jelly!  Next came the baking of cookies or possibly cake.  Usually my brother and I were in charge of cookie baking.  He was older than I so he was the chief chef while I was only allowed to stir.  Then a trip to the grocery in town was required to secure mints and mixed nuts.  Finally just before the guests were to arrive coffee was perked.  We lived in the midwest therefore sweet tea was not an option.  Now all of this deliciousness was very artfully arranged on a set of glass plates. They are oval with an indentation for the glass cup.  According to my mother these plates were absolutely required equipment for any clubwoman worth her salt!  I believe there was a certain amount of one-up-manship among the women regarding their plates.    At the appointed time the women  arrived at our house in hats and gloves; no one would even consider being late.

So how does all of this relate to yesterday?  I have to wonder if women in the generations below me have the desire  to continue this idea of hospitality.  Do they have a supply of pretty napkins on hand for just such occasions?  I still have Mother's plates and cups along with several serving pieces, but I usually fall back on paper plates, etc.  Mother would be horrified!  If I haven't been good at modeling hostess-like behavior, will my daughter be motivated to learn?  Do women even have time to devote to entertaining other ladies for an afternoon or do they just meet at the local restaurant?  I hope southern hospitality isn't becoming a lost art just as I hope visiting isn't becoming a lost art.  My challenge to anyone who reads this is to visit someone in person, not on facebook.  Then get some pretty napkins, make a sandwhich or two and share your elegance with another woman.  Perhaps we can revive this small bit of gentility.

Down on the farm

Early this morning my husband let our dogs out for their morning "business".  One of our sweet girls began to growl at our grill.  Odd behavior even for this particular dog who has some behavioral issues.  So my hubby lifted the grill cover to see what was bothering our sweet girl.  Low and behold, a pair of eyes stared back at him!!!!  Before dropping the cover and making a hasty retreating into the house he did recognize the distinctive face of a raccoon which begs the question, "What the hell is a raccoon doing hiding under the grill cover??????"  The varmint wasn't talking.
After numerous phone calls to animal control, police department, vet, and exterminator, all who wanted nothing to do with said raccoon, we chased the interloper into the woods hopefully never to be seen again!

The Case of the Missing Coffee

It was early on Tuesday morning, 0700 to be exact.  The scene of the crime was the bedroom of the victim's residence.  The victim recounts the details as follows:
"My sweet husband brought me a cup of coffee while I was still sleeping.  I was sleeping because I am retired and I can sleep as late as I want!!!  Anyway, he, my husband, was going out early and he brought me a cup of coffee thinking I would be up soon.  I thought I would be up soon, too, but getting out of bed just seemed too much of an effort.  So, I went back to sleep with my 2 dogs keeping my feet warm.  Did I mention my dogs?  They sleep with us every night.  We had to get a king sized bed to make room for all us!  They are just too cute. Oh, okay, I'll get back to facts.  When I did wake up the coffee was cold, so I decided to shower then nuke the coffee so as not to be wasteful.  Which is what I did.  Weeellll, when I went to pick up my cup it was empty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  An entire cup of coffee, gone!!!!!!!!!!!!   Who could have crept into my house and drunk my coffee?????????  What kind of low-life would rob a poor retired woman of her morning coffee?????"
My partner and I discussed possible scenarios.  No fingerprints were found at the scene.  The two dogs had nothing to say when questioned, but one seemed very jittery.  We caution the victim about drinking in bed.  Case closed.

Southern Talk

"Bless his/her/your/their heart".  I love this phrase.  It is an all-encompassing phrase and is the southern woman's dagger sheathed in satin.  Context is absolutely critical to the use of this phrase.  For instance, while discussing the bad luck of a neighbor the phrase implies a true feeling of regret for the neighbor's difficulties.  But, when applied to someone who has done or said something really idiotic then the seemingly innocuous phrase takes on a tone that can only be described as lethal.  "Bless her heart.  I know she meant well, but did you see how short that dress was?  You could see all the way downtown!"  "Bless his heart, he can't help it.  He's had no raisin'. "  "Bless their hearts, they try so hard, but well, they can't help it that they were born into that family.  It does seem that they would learn from their mistakes but I guess not.  Bless their hearts." 

Beware of southern women who bless your heart.  They may have something else entirely in mind for your heart.

Living in the South

I am not a southerner by birth.  I was born north of the Mason-Dixon line and even though I have lived in the south for 25 years I am still not Southern.  That being said, there is much about Southern living that I love.  Last Friday was a case in point.  My community is small and rural.  People here care for one another for the most part.  When a family is in trouble, either health or disaster such as fire, people pitch in and help.  Thus Jack and I found ourselves at a small local church at a spaghetti dinner.  The proceeds of the dinner were to go to a person who has cancer.  I think the cancer patient is a member of this church or perhaps his family is.   Jack's singing group was also going to perform after the dinner.  We don't know the cancer patient and in fact didn't know very many people in the crowd.  When we talked to others in attendance, they didn't know the patient either.  Nevertheless, the response was overwhelming.  The fellowship hall was packed as was the sanctuary.  Later we heard that over $4,000.00 had been collected.  $4,000.00 from a community that has an unemployment rate of over 9%.  $4,000.00 from a community of farmers and blue collar workers and retirees. 

Perhaps this kind of outpooring of kindness happens in large cities, but considering the anonymity of cities I doubt it.  There is much I rail against here in the south, but I don't think anywhere can be beat for kindness to others.  I have learned to keep the ingredients for casseroles and pound cakes on hand just in case there is a need.  I love being included in the giving of food or cards or phone calls to lift some one's spirit.  While I will never be considered  Southern, I am happy that I have learned the art of southern kindness.

Time

Time on my hands, time in a bottle, as time goes by, time flies when you are having fun. I have discovered that there is working time and retirement time. Let me explain the difference. When I was teaching time seemed to grind slowly forward from the beginning of the year to about mid January. Then I was counting the days until EOG testing and thinking my students wouldn't be ready for the Alpha and Omega of all tests. Then there were the week days. I started dreading Monday on Sunday afternoon. Finally, Wednesday would appear on the horizon, but wait! The next day would be Thursday - the most accursed day of the week! Just when I didn't think I could stand one more day, the sun would rise on Friday. Ahhhh, a sigh of relief.

Now that retirement has set in, I dread Tuesdays. I know it is ungrateful of me to dread any day of the week, but there you are. Just call me an ungrateful wretch. On Tuesdays I have no committments; aka nothing to do. Yes, I can read, clean, play music, go to library, etc. However, that is not the same as HAVING to do something. Plus, my dear sweet husband is home ALL DAY LONG!!!!!!!!! Ever hear the saying, "Too much togetherness is not a good thing"? It is true.

So, what is a retiree to do? Well, I haven't worked that out yet. But, to my schoolteacher friends, watch out. I may show up at your door looking for something to fill my time on Tuesdays.

First snow in 2012

View down our driveway.

View from bedroom window.