Although Too Much Trouble, It is Definitely Delicious…

I ate breakfast with dad this morning. I watched as he cooked his bacon which he broils in the oven on a broiler. It is certainly delicious, but I would never get that pan clean again.

“You don’t have all that grease splatter when frying,” he told me.

We also had some liberally buttered toast and grape jelly. I felt as if I was stuck in my childhood on my grandmother’s farm. Dad’s mom. The smells emanating out of the kitchen were certainly heavenly.

“It smells like Sally Lou’s farmhouse in here!” I exclaimed when I arrived.

My grandfather got a job as vice president of a local bank. He said he was moving into town out of the country where he would never have to step in chicken shit again. My grandmother, Sally Lou, left the farm and moved into the city with him. She never was very happy living a city life. When my grandfather died of a brain tumor in his fifties, she moved back out on the farm and lived out her days until she got dementia. She moved back into town in a house my father bought and remodeled that Charlie now owns. She didn’t know she was living in the city, though.

“Who is that bossy silver haired fellow that keeps coming in here?” she asked her sister in her end days.

“That’s your son, John,” Annie Mae replied.

I Just Don’t Get the Weather Channel…

You would think that some who loves the weather and keeping up with it would just adore and love The Weather Channel. I hate it with a passion. It bores me to tears. That’s what dad was watching this morning after breakfast. They focused on the floods out in Nebraska. They had all these fancy graphics about ice flows backing up exacerbating the flooding. I just wanted to listen to my coveted weather radio and hear about the tornados in our storms the other night – weather that hits home.