Category: Family

Cooking for Studly: Thanksgiving for Two

Those of you who are new to my blog might not realize that I have a life outside of bashing our president-elect, but I do! I live with my husband, Studly Doright, and our two feline supervisors, Scout and Patches, in our own little piece of paradise that I like to call Doright Manor.

We have two perfect children and five absolutely superior grandchildren (funny how that works, seeing as how Studly and I just barely peek over the average range), but they live far away from our home outside of Tallahassee, Florida.

Studly and I were high school sweethearts in Texas, and in forty years of marriage we’ve moved 14 times, lived in five different states, and I’ve lost count of the number of homes we’ve shared. We aren’t retired yet, but it’s number one on our bucket list.

Studly married me thinking I’d turn out to be a great cook like his mom (Saint Helen) or my mom, (Gingymama), but I had neither the aptitude nor the attitude to develop into much more than a mediocre heater upper. Poor, poor Studly.

Twice a year, though, I focus all of my energies into cooking a kick ass holiday meal. I plan and prepare and check ingredients off of lists and shop and preheat–all the necessary stuff. Sometimes, it all turns out perfectly. Other times we pretend. Wine helps.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day here in the US. So today I’m baking a pecan pie, hard boiling eggs, and making cornbread. Doright Manor smells amazing. I’ll arise early tomorrow to prep and roast a turkey, make cornbread dressing, a fruit salad, and deviled eggs, along with Studly’s favorite green bean casserole (ugh!) and cranberry sauce. With any luck neither of us will need to pretend that it tastes great. Again, wine helps.

It’s just going to be the two of us for dinner, well and the cats, but I’m thankful that we are healthy and have each other. I’m most thankful that at Christmas we’ll get to see our kids, grandkids, and Saint Helen, when we congregate in Nashville, Tennessee, for a family holiday extravaganza.

Now, the smoke alarm hasn’t sounded even once this morning, so all is well at Doright Manor. I’d best go, though, and open a bottle of wine. Just in case.

Peace, and Happy Thanksgiving, people.

Suggestions?

If you were a smart, beautiful girl, who isn’t into girly-girl stuff, what would you want to receive as a gift for your 14th birthday?

This isn’t a rhetorical question. Our eldest grandchild will celebrate her 14th birthday on September 13. Today is September 7. Surely someone out there has a suggestion. I’m getting desperate.

Here she is with her dog, Toby. 

Spaghetti, Spaghotti

The face I make when I prepare spaghetti for dinner and Studly Doright says that’s what he had for lunch.

  
Peace, people!

A Badling of Ducks?

Last week I posted a poem about a flock of ducks in response to my sister-in-law, Lyn, referring to them as a herd. (Complete post below) 

As it turns out there are a great many names for a group of ducks. Thanks to my friend Derrick whose wonderful blog can be found at https://derrickjknight.com I’ve discovered several new duck designations. Derrick pointed out

  
And his comment led me to google:

  
I especially like “badelynge” so I’ve changed my poem: 

                  “A Herd of Ducks”

Strutting for all the world to see, a herd of ducks came calling.

Ate our muffins, blueberry and bran, their manners so appalling. 

Nary a thanks in quacked accent as these feathered friends departed

Don’t they ken we’re a badelynge? Drake did ask, waddling as he farted. 

Here’s the original post:

My sister-in-law, Lyn, and her husband, Mike, are staying the weekend at Baron’s Creekside near Fredricksburg, Texas. Their accommodation is a quaintly furnished cabin on a quiet lake. 
This morning, Lyn posted, 

  
  

And these photos:

  
   My contribution follows:

                   “A Herd of Ducks”

Strutting for all the world to see, a herd of ducks came calling.
Ate our muffins, blueberry and bran, their manners so appalling. 
Nary a thanks in quacked accent as these feathered friends departed

Don’t they ken we’re a flock? The drake did ask, waddling as he farted. 

Herd of Ducks

My sister-in-law, Lyn, and her husband, Mike, are staying the weekend at Baron’s Creekside near Fredricksburg, Texas. Their accommodation is a quaintly furnished cabin on a quiet lake. 

This morning, Lyn posted, 
  
And these photos:

  
My contribution follows:

                   “A Herd of Ducks”

Strutting for all the world to see, a herd of ducks came calling.

Ate our muffins, blueberry and bran, their manners so appalling. 
Nary a thanks in quacked accent as these feathered friends departed
Don’t they ken we’re a flock? The drake did ask, waddling as he farted. 

Question for the Aged 

A friend posted this meme on his Facebook page today and jokingly quipped, “My wife.”  
But being the deep thinker that I am, instead of quickly responding with something like “my vintage Huey Lewis concert tshirt which doubles as my favorite nightgown” I thought I’d turn the question into a blog post.

 

Huey Lewis. I sleep with him, you know.
 
I have a lot of old stuff. Probably the oldest is a bedroom suite that I inherited from my maternal grandmother, my beloved Nannie Grace. It was an antique when she bought it, but she went one step further and antiqued the antique. Sigh. Apparently it was a popular thing to do in the 60’s and 70’s.

   
 I’ve considered having her antiquing process undone and the furniture restored to its original mahogany, but one restorer explained to me that the paint Nannie Grace applied is probably the only thing holding it together at this point.

It’s still a beautiful set, and I’d estimate it at possibly 145 years of age.

There’s also this piece from Nannie Grace

  
And this poor old clock that was my Daddy’s:

  
But my favorite old thing is my side saddle.

  
My maternal grandfather, Grandaddy Carl P., bought this saddle when I was very young. He promised it would be mine someday and here it is. Like Grandaddy, though, I really don’t have anywhere to display it. He kept it in his workshop and Studly always gives me space in the garage for this sentimental piece. It deserves better, so if anyone has a suggestion for how I might incorporate it into my decor I’m more than willing to listen. 

What’s the oldest thing in your house? Why do you have it and what does it mean to you? Inquiring minds want to know.

Peace, people!

The Sound of Silence aka The Grandkids are Gone

For almost two weeks we entertained two of our five grandchildren here at Doright Manor. It was the first time Dominique and Jackson have been alone with us for that length of time, and heading into the first week I felt some trepidation.

Would they get bored? Would I be patient with them? Could I train them to cook and clean like small indentured servants? 

As they prepared to leave on Saturday morning I asked them each if they’d had fun, and the answer was a resounding “Yes!”

They rode motorcycles.

  
Fished:


   
Helped Poppa with yard work:

 

Visited Poppa at the office:
 

Chopped down saplings:  
 

Created bird feeders:
   
Rode crazy rides at Wild Adventures:

    
  

That blur is Jackson.
  
   

Rode motorcycles again:  
Enjoyed Japanese stir fry:

 
Helped Poppa and me build a fairy house:

   
    
    
    
Created paracord bracelets for every member of the family:

    
And climbed trees.

 They also rode go karts at a local arcade, but the resident documentarian (me) came down with a nasty head cold and stayed at home for that adventure.

Apparently there was no boredom involved. I never even came close to losing my patience–a true miracle. However, the plan to have the kids take over the cooking and cleaning was for naught. Two out of three works for me. 

Now to enjoy the sound of silence. 

  
 Peace, people!

Age of Innocence

He walks a limb, unconcerned, undeterred, master of his own destiny.

Alone at the top of the world, competent, exuberant.

Dangling meters above the earth, unafraid, unhampered.

Innocence in motion, carefree; nonchalance as an art form.

My heart climbs with this fearless child, for my body no longer can.

May he know this joy for the entirety of his life.

  
   

One Ring to Rule Them All

My precious!

 
I must have been a much better wife than I imagined! Thank you Studly Doright!

Faerie Dwelling Construction Continues

After a rigorous and righteous game of golf (he shot four over par), Studly Doright led the grandchildren and me in completing the building of a faerie home. 

Dominique and I placed pebbles strategically.

   
We added a door and a mossy door mat.

  

Then we headed out back to place the house on the stump of a tree that Jackson had chopped down earlier this week.
    
 

 
 After much trimming, the house was secured to its stump. 
 Tomorrow, we’ll add decorative items to welcome our wee friends.

Peace, people!