 Isn’t it funny the things we say before we really realize how dumb we sound? Like the clerk who recently told my daughter that she didn’t think the grocery store carried poppy seeds anymore because of the opium in them – Huh?? Or how about someone near and dear to me who announced that the IPhone had an exciting new app that turns your IPhone into a walky-talky, allowing you to talk to other people over your IPhone!! Ya think? (Oh and that’s ‘application’ for those of you out-of-the-technologically-advanced-loop kinda fuddy-duddies) One of the best was stated by a sport’s caster announcing a Denver Bronco’s game, years ago, who marvelled, “He threw it with his left arm!! He threw it with his left arm!! He’s amphibious, you know!!!” I’ve had my major share of unengaged brain moments myself. There was the time I didn’t realize that I explained to a friend of ours, who had accompanied us to a reunion, not to be alarmed about one of our cousins who suffered from “necrophelia” (attraction to corpses). I couldn’t understand the shock and recoil of our guest until one of our children whispered to him, “She means narcolepsy“(sleeping disorder). Oh yes. I really said that. And then, there was the awful time that I got frustrated with one of the old timers who loved to kid me in the grocery store meat department where I worked years ago. Balancing a row of packaged chicken breasts, three deep, along my left arm as I was placing them in the bin, I picked up one package, waved it in front of his face and threatened, “Do you want some breasts in your mouth??!!” There was nothing to do but hide in the big cooler between the hanging sides of beef and pork until the coast was clear. My favorite story of all time, though, involves a very dear friend of mine (whose name I will change to protect the not-so-innocent), Claude. In that very same grocery that I mentioned as my place of employment, there was a very handsome, macho, young man – the brother of my boss and co-owner of the store – who worked the cash register every so often. His name was Gerald. My boss, had a delightful little tow-headed four year old son, who spent many days with us in the meat department. And his name was Jarod. One day, my friend Claude and his wife had come to the grocery store to shop. Seeing Jarod playing in front of the store, Claude’s wife mentioned, “Oh! There’s Jarod. When you get closer to him, be sure to play “Got’cher Nose” with him because he loves it.” If you have no idea what that game involves, it requires the adult to grab the youngster’s nose, and then, sticking the thumb between the index finger and the middle finger to present it as the stolen nose, the adult declares, “Got’cher nose!” to which the youngster screams in terror, “Give it back!! Give it back!!” It is solely for the sadistic pleasure of adults to terrify, frustrate and generally disturb the psyche of young children. Now Claude, dutiful husband that he was, pushed the cart around the store and loaded it with groceries alongside his wife. In order to pay for their loot, Claude stationed the buggy at the checkout stand manned by Gerald, my boss’s brother. Claude looked a little timid at first, but just as Gerald rang up the last item and stated how much was owed, Claude reached across the conveyor belt to Gerald’s nose, grabbed it and declared, “Got’cher nose!!” Now, Claude defends his actions by explaining that when his wife mentioned “Jarod”, he heard “Gerald”, and disaster ensued. Gerald, every bit the man’s man, stepped back in shock and stared at Claude in total confusion. Then Claude saw little Jarod and realized his mistake. Leaving groceries, cart, a stunned checkout clerk and a wife, who was in hysterics, Claude exited the grocery as fast as he could and waited in the car until his wife made it out with the groceries. It was quite awhile before Claude set foot in the place again, and those of us who worked in the grocery had a story and a laugh for weeks and weeks. Well, speaking of Claude – Claude, like Ernest in the old milk commercials, used to pop up at our home every morning because he knew that there would be fresh biscuits and sausage for the taking. He loved biscuits and he always made me feel so appreciated as he devoured a plateful. And so, it is in honor of Claude that I thought I’d post my biscuit recipe. Hey, Claude!! Got’cher nose! 2 cups flour (all purpose or whole wheat pastry flour) 1 tbsp + 1 tsp baking powder 1/4 tsp baking soda 1 tsp salt 6 tbsp shortening buttermilk oil butter               |
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Mmmmm! Biscuits. My mouth is watering already.
(:D) Best regards…
Mary Beth, your quotes about what people have said or done have been a delight to read. The story about “Claude” has made me laugh so hard I cried–both of the times that I read it. If you can get hold of a couple of books called “Anguished English”, you’ll get a kick out of ’em–they’ll sort of remind you of the poppy seed reply. They are small, but everything that has been written in them was written by real people.
Merry Christmas to you, Hawkeye!!
Nancy, glad that you enjoyed it. I will have to look for that book. It sounds like my kind of reading! Have a wonderful Christmas too. 🙂
Oops, Margaret Nan – thought you were your mother!! That’s a good thing, though. 🙂
Merry Christmas to you too. (:D)
O come, O come, Emmanuel!
I enjoyed the stories and the biscuit recipe. My two year old grandson was here with my daughter the other day. He kept saying “I make!” His mother said that means he wants to cook something. I had a packet of biscuit mix so we mixed that up and rolled it out, using my Oklahoma Pastry Cloth, of course! He at e three of his delicious biscuits. Next time maybe we’ll use your scratch recipe. Yours look great!
Oh good! Another cook in the making!! Using the oil is the way that I remember Grandmother Thurman making them.
She said she thinks Erving recognized her during that first meeting. I stood in line for an autographed ball, and I didnt really want to. And I got there. I just stood in line to see what he looked like. And I got up there, he asked me if I wanted a ball, and I said `no, and I walked away.
[…] please my man, dashed to the kitchen to whip out a batch of my own recipe. I had posted that recipe here a number of years ago, with step-by-step photos, but I’ll let you in on the secret of what I […]