Sunday, Sunday…

A thoroughly boring day by some standards; a thoroughly pleasant day by others.

The Piglet– the small Piggly Wiggly in town– was packed this morning. There must have been eight or ten other customers in there when Mr. Big Food and I arrived. It took us a full 30 minutes to do our weekly shopping, and they had to open a second lane while we were checking out our two carts. $119.44! But the fellows do take our groceries out to the truck so I guess I shouldn’t complain.

The sign on the Dollar General Store announced that they’d be closing at 5pm today– reopening at 8am Wednesday. They are remolding! I announced this to Miss M in just the right way when we got back to the Farm, “Dollar General is closing… ” you should have seen her face! Miss M loves the Dollar General. But then, who doesn’t?

Put groceries away– you should see this week’s menu. Work. Pick blackeyed peas &c. Leftovers for lunch.


Work some more. I got the first Grievances post done. And then work a bit more. We cleared the paths on the North Pasture. Check for ticks. Remove ticks. And more work. Boil then bake the pork tenderloin for carnitas for burritos. Work some more. Read through a little something Mr. Big Food is working on. Somewhere in there I gas-powered-weed-wacked a bunch of stuff and Mr. Big Food worked up a sweat.

Miss M’s work was homework. She’s learning how to respond to the question, “How many hours per week to you spend in chat forums?” en español.  She thinks perhaps her profesor, en español, should get with the program.

After a hard day of work, we all wound up in the kitchen. Miss M and I are shelling blackeyed peas as Mr. Big Food is preparing the Spanish rice, refried beans, avocado, and carnitas for the burritos. Shelling peas has give Miss M a new appreciation for blackeyed peas. “How many peas does it take to make a can of blackeyed peas?” she asks as she scrambles to beat the dogs to one that’s fallen to the floor.

We assemble our personalized burritos, pop them in the oven and move up front to watch television together.

What a wasteland!

As fate would have it, I controlled the flicker. And I settled on a crappy old movie on Turner Classics: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I figured it would be a placeholder while I searched for something better. The novel, of the same title, was one of Dad’s favorites. I couldn’t go wrong, especially since I announced that little factoid.

As it turns out, there was nothing better on televison. And so we ate our exceptionally good personalized burritos and watched a crappy old movie. Afterward, we tidied up the kitchen and froze the remaining burritos. They’ll come in handy.

We enjoyed the movie. 

With respect to the novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn— which I just happen to have in my crappy old Library– I dunno. I’m definitely not a fan of the Mother:

Francie is smart… She’s a Learner and she’ll be somebody someday. … She does not understand me. .. Maybe when she gets education, she will be ashamed of me– the way I talk. … She will come to see me and make me live in a better way and I will be mean to her because I’ll know she’s above me…

[Betty Smith. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn / Maggie-Now: Two Novels by Betty Smith. Harper & Row, Publishers, New York, Evanston, London. 1948.] 

Well, yeah. You’re just mean. And in the movie, your mother seemed so nice. She was all about Francie becoming educated. As was Francie’s father, Johnny. And you thought that just because Johnny knocked you up again, and then died, you could take away all of Francies’ dreams?


2 Responses

  1. Seriously? We were talking just this evening about this. He was making eyes at her while Johnny was alive. And at the end of the movie, he says he’s lost his wife in the same time frame. So he was making eyes at her while his wife was alive. That ain’t right.

    Oh. You’re pulling my chain. Damn. LOL.

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