Semi-Daily Scribbles

What Is It?

 

What is it I see?
Forget the sickly green beans.
Drumstick and roll, please.

Peelings

Over fed, flushed, bloated. Juanita fumbled with buttons beneath the crocheted tablecloth and sighed as she freed her belly from stretchless denim. Each year she vowed to wear a high-waisted dress, Regency-like, though second hand maternity would do just as well. Next year, for sure. Then she could eat and drink while a loose, billowy frock concealed her penchant for roasted delights -- drippings, crisp skin, charred peelings, golden crust. What clung to the bottom of the pan was fair game when it came to Juanita and her holiday palate.

Juicy

Can't think of a better way to celebrate the season. Buy nearby. Eat local. Drink at home (but not alone.) Stuff I like at this time of year are dates, cranberries, Key limes, and juicy Ruby Reds. Seems like an ingredient list for an exotic side dish that'd have to fight for space on the Thanksgiving table. Visions of chutney dance in my head...

Pickled

 

A briny diet
Summer, simmered and pickled
Pucker up, Autumn.

Pastry

Renée is a flaky lady but her heart's in the right place. Chicken nuggets for breakfast, pastry for supper. Renée stays up all night to write messages to her Self. She knows she's having the time of her life a couple levels over. Renée's also aware she's got minutes to live just on the other side of the wall. Where she sits, right this minute, writing her clues and to-do's, Renée hopes her judgment is sound. When the future and past collide, she'll have but a moment to convince herself the present was, is, and shall ever be the only thing worth believing.

Frosted

The Big Box Mega Retailer around the corner tells me it's time for flocked trees and frosted windowpanes. I say: "Give me my slice of pumpkin pie and a cranberry cosmopolitan first!" The only place I want to see frost right now, on an 80 degree F/27 C October Tuesday, is on a mug of sarsaparilla. The holiday frenzy has commenced.

palpitation

cherry pie and cups of damn fine coffee. misty old growth and logging trucks. a great northern tale full of secrets and one-eyed jacks. mayhem only needs one arm to pin you down. here's a town with enough finger poppin', light flickerin' evil to cause a palpitation of the blackest heart. here's a town where the monsters being chased down take the form of family men.

Yummie

Bibi used the word often, but flipped back and forth between two spellings. When referring to matinee idols and buttery soft leather goods, "yummy" was the way to go. "Yummie," of course, was reserved for evenings devoted to filet mignon and dark chocolate pots de crème. Bibi made sure to prolong the "mmmmm" in the middle of the word when waxing philosophical about her favorite meal.

Oiliness

Comfort and joy. Oiliness and a sodium overdose. Nothing like the bad stuff to bring on taste bud euphoria. Hey, the crushed and busted chips at the bottom of the bag have all the flavor. Don't waste that precious crumb coating! Go find some chicken parts and get in some dredge-and-bake action. And you know strips of bacon slapped down on a warm maple bar is the best kind of sandwich there is. Greasiness and sugar shock. Meals not soon to be forgotten. Drink your kale and eat your Brussels sprouts for breakfast. Your secret's safe with me.

Kibble

Waverly learned "the K word" early on in her career as a mischievous miniature schnauzer. Food was a huge deal, and Waverly's girth, for most of her 15 years, was a testament to her love (o.k...obsession) of kibble. She was surprisingly quick on her feet, though. Let her loose on a good sandy shoreline and she was gone like a flash, upsetting seagulls in the surf and challenging the biggest dog she could find. Waverly was a hellion. She was a "big fella," too. People who knew schnauzers often mistook her for a standard male. She was a bruiser. Waverly was also a very special cupcake. There was always drama going on with her toes, she growled at things I couldn't see, and hated having her picture taken. She loved to squeeze in next to me as I read in my favorite chair. I was a bad dog mother and got Waverly hooked on french fries thanks to a cold winter's day lunch break at a McDonald's in Napavine, Washington. Then Lily came along...Waverly was not amused. She'd actually turn around so her backside faced the little fur ball my husband and I brought home when Waverly was well into middle age. She eventually came around, and became a teacher and friend to our #2 schnauzer. The two spent many hours choreographing their wrestling moves.

Waverly got to eat one last bowl of her beloved kibble before we had to say goodbye to her today.