SUPER BOWL MEANS EAT.
Ain’t no way I could have kept my New Years resolution to try to keep from gaining too much weight. That’s because of all of the foodie events surrounding the Super Bowl.
Like what happened Saturday.
The day started off its usual arctic self. The annual 4-H BBQ Bowl is almost always on the coldest day of the year.
On the day before Super Bowl Sunday I try to get down to the radio station to take pics of the 4-H boosters tending to their smokers before dawn. The boosters have about a dozen or so cookers roaring in the dark. It smells wonderful, even that early.
I usually get a picture or two, and duck across the street to McDonald’s for a healthful breakfast. There was a distraction this time, however. Mike Ince had a bunch of Dutch ovens going, and everyone promised that what was inside the cast iron would be beyond wonderful.
Naturally, I had time to eat before jogging across the street.
I promised to come back at about 10:30 to pick up my slab of ribs and two Cornish game hens. And I did.
I took them home and ‘tested’ one of the hens. That’s all there is to a fullgrown Cornish game hen — a test, or taste. That was my mid-morning meal, and it had to hold me until …..
Noon when I dropped by a tent on the Walmart parking lot where members of the Lifeline Ministry COGIC were serving free soup. They said they conducted this project to thank the community for its support during the year.
Well, okay, I’ll try some soup, I said after taking their picture. They had potato soup, vegetable beef soup, and taco soup. I asked for potato. But before I could walk away with my serving, one church member noted that I was looking a mite frail and he suggested that I also take home a serving of the vegetable beef soup.
I ate both servings at one sitting. It had to hold me until dang near 6 o’clock when I went out to the annual chili and soup supper benefit for Center Point Renewal.
The Center Point Community Center was packed as usual. No one supports their volunteer fire department like the CP folks do.
I have done this often enough so that I know EXACTLY how hot the firemen’s special chili is. It is nuclear, and that’s the way a lot of people like their chili. All I know is that there are couple of firemen standing guard on either side of the giant chili crockpot, and they are holding a fire hose.
I am proud to report that I managed to stay away from the dessert table (but in all honesty, I wish someone would bring me a slice of cake right now).
Next Sunday there will be a bake sale conducted by Hispanic youth at St. Martin’s Catholic Church. How do you say cookie in Spanish? Nevermind.
THE GOOD EARTH.
I’ve hesitated to mention that jonquils are popping up yellowfully in lotsa places around town. I don’t wanna jinx Spring.
And my own flowering quince is in full bloom. Unlike some flowering quinceseses in this area, my own flowering quince blooms late. Several times in earlier years I thought it had died during the winter. That’s because flowering quincesees are succeptible to a fungus which makes its greenery fall off. I’ve sprayed mine with fungicide but the leaves fall off anyway.
You see flowering quinceseses most often at cemeteries or old homeplaces. They lose their leaves, but they don’t die.
It may not seem like it, and we will probably have some really arctic weather in the days ahead, but …… winter is on its way our.
HEARD FROM. Deb Cowling, who insists that she is half of my regular readers, says she has a connection to last week’s Mine Creek Revelations column about the Tyler Junior College Apache Belles and the Kilgore Junior College Rangerettes.
She attended both schools, but was not a member of either precision dance squad. Pity.
Deb also says that both school still participate in football, despite what I wrote. Well, Deb, we all know that the media lies.
The world is small. Last week I also heard from an old Navy shipmate who told me he preferred the Apache Belles — his niece was one. “That’s her! The one in the saucy outfit doing high-kicks!”
THE TWO OF ‘EM. Why can’t they make up their minds? — Hem and Haw.
THINGS I LEARNED from opening email: A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
HE SAID: “It is quite amazing how hard the subconscious works when it is made to understand that this life is not a rehearsal, there is no safety net and no assurance of any final closure. It is also quite appalling to realize how catatonic the imagination can become when we hedge our bets, opt for the safer direction at every fork in the path.” JOHN BURDETT, British crime novelist
SHE SAID: “Some days are just bad days, that’s all. You have to experience sadness to know happiness, and I remind myself that not every day is going to be a good day, that’s just the way it is!” DITA VON TREESE, American burlesque dancer
SWEET DREAMS, Baby