Chicken Salad Again!

 Chicken Salad Again!

 

Cooked the last three chicken breasts the other day in the electric roaster. They made a lot of chicken white meat. Some of it was turned into chicken salad this morning along with some chopped pecans, thinly sliced celery, sweet relish, and a big blob of mayo. Patty thought it was pretty good, too. Personally, thought the chicken pieces were a mite too large, but Patty said that Roxy seemed to believe that they were just about perfect. It’s always good to know the dogs approve of one’s cooking! Ahem.

 

Saw something on the internet the other day that amused me. Someone came up with the idea of the ^sarcastrophe^ that stands for sarcasm. Want my daughter-in-law to know about them since she and Lance keep making those kinds of remarks whenever possible. Actually, Jennifer and her cousin Lesli are pretty good at those remarks as well. Sarcasm is a neat way of expressing oneself without being too terribly impolite. Think the British/English were excellent at sarcasm once upon a time. It’s like Jonathan Swift suggesting that the Irish children should be fattened up to be eaten by the British. After all, the children were going to die of starvation anyway since all the potatoes grown in Ireland had to be sent to England. They called that satire back in the day, but so many people are starving to death in various places, it makes me wonder what solutions Swift would suggest today.

 

Dr. Blackwell came for the eggs around lunch time. We stood out in the heat and visited about as long as either of us could stand it. She said she liked my short hair and wished she could cut hers. Mine, with its simple texture, is wash and wear hair. She suggested that hers would look a bit like one of those twirly things on the end of a stick where it bushes out all over. But then, she has some major texture in her hair. Jennifer could tell her about fly-away hair. She has her daddy’s kinky hair. Mine just has waves now as the old woman has aged. At least age has done a few good things for me!

 

Have been reading a series of books about a man whose father left behind an inheritance in England to come to America to marry for love. His son fought in the Civil War and worked as a surgeon and doctor until he was captured and lived through the Andersonville prison for a year. The man who ran the prison was hanged for inhumane behavior to the prisoners, but meanwhile, anyone who survived was damaged bodily and mentally as well. The young man, who became Lord Redmond, survived and took as a ward the surviving little drummer boy for the regiment. The doctor came to England to sell the property he inherited from his grandfather and became friends with a police officer in the village. The doctor saved a young woman and her baby by performing a c-section. Anyway, the doctor and the policeman began solving various murders and crimes. Now both have moved on to London to work there. The doctor wants to teach surgery techniques to young medical students. The books have been interesting and informative. Who knew that cyanide came from apple seeds?!

 

The guys who cut the grass will probably be here on Tuesday. Maybe by then, the old woman can rake up the branches from the Nandinas that grew by the porch. Those branches are going into the bottom of a raised bed—well, that’s the plan anyway. The first raised bed did a crumble right in the middle of the long side, so the braces were totally inadequate. We will see what can be changed about that problem. Just would like to have the thing filled with good soil and capable of growing food. A few watermelons have made me smile currently, but would also like to have cucumbers and other good things. If we have to endure this heat, it should be good for something!

 

Let us remember that this world needs help with the poverty of its masses—those are REAL people who need food and shelter. May we commit to developing ways to help others without taking away their independence. May God bless this world.

 

Rest well, my friends. You are loved.