One of my nice customers, an older gentleman, came into the shop yesterday and placed a half-pint of his home canned jelly on my counter. It was green. Said, "Its kinda hot."
Seems his new hobby is home gardening and he leans heavily towards peppers. He likes to jar the fruits of his labors.
This morning, after I built my first pot of coffee, I removed the cover from my forty year old toaster and slipped an English muffin inside. When the muffins were nice and brown I spread butter and a wee bit of his jalapeno jelly on it. Took a tentative taste. Waited.
Love it. I broke a rule and had another muffin but this time I slapped a big glob over both sides. He and I need to talk recipes.
Sweet Wife is late. She left for church at 0800 and it's half past 1300, she should have been home over an hour ago. Seems I've been made a widower by the church.
I don't begrudge her the peace she receives from her worship nor the friendships she has made since she joined her church. Lord knows she deserves peace in her life. She loves her church and Bible study.
But, it seems of late her church affairs take far more of her time than even I get....which makes me a jealous husband. She's my best friend. We still hold hands when out in public...silly, I know, but there you have it. We've been married over thirty years.
I'm about to break a rule and post a picture of Sweet Wife. Here she is on a recent visit to an Atlanta hair salon. She's just had her hair ripped from her head. Isn't she a cute little thing.
I work for my money. I'm not a church man. Yes, I do believe in our Lord. But, concept of church isn't on my radar. The building, that is...
On my maternal side of the family both my great-grandfathers were ministers. Baptist to boot. My paternal side were Catholics from Ireland. I took after my father. We say hello in the liquor store.
Back to the cash. This morning as I sat at my desk deep in a pile of statements, writing checks, I noticed a debit in our check book for double her weekly church payment. Double.
Is it possible the ministers needs have increased since last week. Has the church's toilet broken. Perhaps their bell tower is scheduled for a fresh white wash, I don't know, but this I can tell you requires a long sit down and chat.
(If you don't hear from me soon call 911)
I built a nice pot of bean soup last night. It simmers, waits, as it gently calls my name. I debate on whether I should or should not fire a rue as an addition to the pot. Rue gives flavor and richness to bean soup. Yet, the soup holds bell pepper, onion and garlic with half a small ham. I've yet to test for salt and pepper.
White or yellow rice...we'll see.
My demands are small.
The song of the cicada has about played out.
This morning while out for my Sunday paper I stood and listened for several minutes, only to remember. The music of the cicada is the song of late summer and its fast fading away.