If I Swallow A Watermelon Seed

Do ya think it would still get me pregnant?  I always heard during those formative years that swallowing watermelon seeds was how babies were made.  Never quite figured out why they were then found in the cabbage patch, but then, I guess I just never thought to ask.  Silly me, something that important and I’m just now thinking about it.

IMG_20170719_115313[1]

I made another drunken chicken recently, using a thingy I found on the clearance rack of one of the stores around here.  That covers a lot of territory, but it doesn’t really matter where it was purchased, the apparatus is what matters and it works.  Sorta.  Maybe it’s the small size of the oven that goes against my plans for a nicely browned, crispy skin on the poor old chicken, but at least with this new thingy it stands proudly up in the oven, headless, but neck held stiffly erect and looking proud to be a chicken.  I eventually had to lay the poor bird down so I could turn the temp high enough to crisp up the skin and give her a nice tan, but at least we finally got a nice picture of her dressed in the “herbs of the day” that I pulled at random and mixed with olive oil to make a rub for her delicate skin.

Blandford brothers

Since I was sorta busy being sick on VJ Day, I decided to put a photo of my 3 Uncles, L to R, Leo, Vird and John, on this post.  Leo would be laughing his head off over my chicken cooking efforts.  All three of these guys were better than cooks, they were Master Chefs to my way of thinking.  Seems to run in the family though, cause I don’t know of a single aunt, uncle or cousin who can’t cook the best meals anyone could ever want to sit down for.  Heck, I would even grab a drumstick and stand against the wall for a chance to eat more of their barbeque.  John moved slightly a few years after the war, but I remember the family reunions at his place on Hwy 81.

I think most people think about the kind of grill you can go to a store and purchase when they hear the word “grilling” chicken.  For everyday grillin’, yeah, that works.  But for our reunions they had a grill!  If memory serves me right, a couple of my uncles either dug pits, or built up concrete block grills.  And since they had to be large enough to serve a couple hundred hungry people, well, just use your imagination on the size of those puppies.

Not sure how I got here from where I started, but here is where it will end.  I have pushed myself 4 inches past exhaustion and now have to shut down and rest — or maybe collapse just to see if that is any fun.  Have a good rest of the weekendl

2 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s