Posted tagged ‘chicken wings’

“Anyone who’s just driven 90 yards against huge men trying to kill them has earned the right to do Jazz hands. ”

February 4, 2018

Here it is, Super Bowl Sunday, a celebration, a day to spend with friends and eat chicken wings and nachos and scream at the TV. I have a new Patriot’s sweatshirt to wear during the game. I will cheer loudly for my home team hoping to drown out the boos from the rest of the country. My Pats are not well liked. I don’t really care about that. They don’t need like. They need Tom to be at the top of his game and Gronk and Cooks and Danny Amendola open for the pass and a run to the goalpost.

My father should be watching the game sitting at his spot on the couch, an ashtray beside him, Hershey’s Miniatures in a bowl and a plate full of the appetizers my mother would have made on the table beside him. My mother never liked sports of any sort, but she was the consummate hostess and would have made a variety of appetizers for the celebration. She’d even have sat with us in the living room knowing nothing about football but wanting to spend the time with us. She even cheered when we did. My father loved football and was a fan his whole life, and I am sorry he never saw the Pats win a Super Bowl. He would have been tickled pink.

My wrist still hurts. The swelling is just about gone, but it is still painful to bend my hand. I can hear you now, ‘Then why do you bend it?” My knee is still painful. Getting downstairs is tough as I can’t grab the bannister and my knee hurts as I go down each step. I am so very careful.

Maddie is better, but she drives me crazy. With both Fern and my Gracie gone, Maddie has become insistent and pushy. When she wants pats, she meows and head bonks my leg. She watches me eat hoping for a treat off my plate. When I go to the kitchen, she follows me and meows for roast beef. I give it to her. Every time I pass the bathroom, she meows for fresh water. Now she sleeps all day on the couch beside me.

It must have rained during the night. Most of the snow is gone. My car is clear as is the walkway. It is cloudy and damp but warm at 44˚. More rain is predicted for later. It is perfect weather for staying inside and watching football. Go Pats!!

“Birds are the eyes of heaven, and flies are the spies of hell.”

September 18, 2017

About a month ago my friend’s house was infiltrated by flies, large, noisy flies. She sat armed and ready to smack any fly within her range of vision. I helped by doing reconnaissance. Neither of us could figure out where the flies had come from. Well, the flies have moved here so I am now suffering through the first plague of South Dennis. The flies, big, ugly flies with green bodies are all over the house, at least down stairs here where I can see them. I am also armed with a rolled up newspaper. Last night I counted ten of them roosting, sort of roosting, on my ceiling. Any that alighted on the window or any other surface was unceremoniously dispatched. By the time I went to bed there were only three on the ceiling, but then came this morning. I have slain at least five of them and shooed three or four more out the front door, but more are by the closed windows in the living room hoping to escape. I don’t see any here in the den. Perhaps the bodies of their comrades are warning them to stay away (I know they aren’t sentient, but I can still hold on to a false hope).

I abided flies in Ghana. They were a part of living there. Few were in my house, but the market was filled with flies. I had to ignore them or I would never have bought meat. Ponder that for a while.

My laundry is being brought down here where it will sit leaning against the cellar door until I get tired of looking at it. From past experiences, that could be a while. When I worked, I had to do all my errands and chores on the weekends when I had the most time. Everything always got done. Now I figure I have eons of time so I procrastinate.

Yesterday I went to my neighbors’ son’s tenth birthday party. It was great fun, and I got to sit and chat with my other neighbors whom I usually just see driving by my house when we just wave at each other. The food at the party was spectacular: tasty chicken wings, sausages, steak, white rice, plantains and Brazilian chicken salad. The last two dishes came from The Brazilian Grill in Hyannis. My neighbor always gets plantain knowing how much I like it. We all sang Happy Birthday to Branden. First we all sang in English then the Brazilian guests sang in Portuguese. What I like is everyone always claps during the singing of each song. We all got to drink Caipirinhas, Brazil’s national cocktail. It is made with cachaça (there) and vodka (here), sugar and lime. The limes are muddled with brown sugar then ice and vodka are added. I had a few. We all did.

I have nothing on my dance card for today except maybe finish the book I’m reading so I can go to the library tomorrow and get more. I did fill the bird feeders this morning so I do have a sense of accomplishment. I’ll take that as enough for today.

“Coffee first. Save the world later.”

August 20, 2017

The morning is just so beautiful with a bright, bright sun, the bluest of skies and a slight breeze, deck weather for sure. It is already getting hot, an August heat, but the deck has branches hanging over it and an umbrella to keep the sun at bay. Tonight is movie night.

My next door neighbors barbecue every Sunday. He cooks, and it is always chicken wings, just plain chicken wings, no sauce, no sides. I can usually smell the wings cooking so I go outside to yell hello from my deck to theirs. They always invite me over.

As soon as I wake up, I look forward to my first sip of coffee. I can hear it dripping into the carafe, and the house fills with the aroma of that coffee brewing. My sense of smell works overtime. I impatiently wait and sometimes even stand in the kitchen to watch. I could take it mid-brew, but I choose to wait, to heighten the expectation.

Recently I’ve been drinking African blend which is a bit funny as I never had real coffee in Ghana, only instant. I got used to it but was never a fan. On my last trip, my friends brought coffee bags, and they tasted far better than the instant, but we had had real coffee at Zania Lodge which spoiled me a bit; however, I adjusted to the instant though my taste buds were severely disappointed.

My house is a full cape which means it has two front windows on each side of the door. In the back, there is a dormer which gives my house three floors in the back but only one floor in the front. My deck is off the second floor in the back. I like being suspended above the ground.

I have to go out to get the fixings for tonight’s movie food. We’re having a jalapeño dip with blue corn chips and maybe a Stromboli. I have the ingredients for that on my shopping list, but oftentimes my trip to the store means seeing something already made which looks delicious so I change the menu right then and there. I’m nothing if not flexible.

“Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.”

August 6, 2017

Today is an absolute delight. The humidity is gone, the sun is squint your eyes bright and there is a cool breeze. I even had to shut the window behind me as I found the breeze cold on my back. I opened the other window in here and both doors to let all that wonderful fresh air into the house. It is a deck day, a wonderful deck day.

Tonight is movie night. I think I’ll have a sweatshirt at the ready as it will be in the low 60’s. Even though it is early August, the weather hints at fall.

My neighbor barbecues chicken wings every Sunday. He doesn’t use any sauce. He never has any sides. His wife sits on the deck and keeps him company. If he sees me, he shouts for me to join him and his wife. I did one Sunday, the Sunday he barbecued Brazilian kielbasa especially for me. His wife made caipirinhas, a Brazilian drink I love. They call me Miss Kath.

I was taught Hausa during my Peace Corps training. It is a language indigenous to Niger but is also a Sub-Saharan trade language. There are even Hausa traders. I used to shop at their stalls on High Street. When I used Hausa, I got better deals. The man who oversaw the Peace Corps hostel spoke Hausa. He loved that I spoke his language. On the first floor of the hostel there were two sleeping rooms for women: one had a bathroom while the other was much smaller and didn’t. I was there once when very few volunteers were. He gave me a key to the big room and put everyone else in the small room. He hated what he called Yama Yama women who left powder all over the bathroom floor. Yama Yama women are street walkers so that was quite an insult. The other day Grace Awae, the former student I have spent so much time with, send hello from Facebook. I wrote back in Hausa: Ina kwana? Yaya kake? Good morning and how are you. She wrote Ina lafiya, I am fine.

I have a few deck clean-ups before tonight, mostly bird poop. I also have to clean the table. I’m making muhammara, a dish I learned to make in Marrakech. The original dish I had planned, shredded chicken phyllo rolls, has to be postponed as I don’t have the right ingredients. I thought I did. I have cheese and crackers and meatballs from last week which are now defrosting. We’ll have plenty.

If I were ten again, I’d be at the beach with my family. I’d be eating grainy sandwiches, probably bologna, and eating watermelon and some Oreos. I’d walk the beach to find shells and I’d swim in the warm tidal pools. I loved the summer Sundays of my childhood.


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