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tags; food, drink; society; peach; impeachment

Now then, eYe realize reading sum of the blogs here & the TV psychodrama paired up with it,
can foster a feverish appetite .... so formula 1 is coffee to wake the comatose and/ or living dead
you will need..} Trader Joe's dark roast; TJ's rainforest safe, fair-Trade, Espresso
sauce pot, sea salt, h2O.....& FIRE!..[ this is a no-coffee maker, secret formula 4 secret agents
.....blah, bla....h20 to just under a boil in sauce pot....remove from Flame, toss in 1 tblsp. dark French roast & let it sit bout 30 sec......above the coffee cup, you shall also need a fine strainer into which are
stacked } another tablespoon of dark roast & dash of sea salt, putting the EspressO blend on top of that
per your discretion..[ we recommend just under a level tblsp.
....As this is a single serving, bout 8oz. of water in the pot or so, [ we put the finished product back in the pot, in the coffee cup, cover, flame off........keeps it toasty hot while we prepare...
..AGENT BOB'S FUNGERIZED NANNER-anti-NADLER BLOOD PURIFIER...
TJ's banana yogurt [ no Trader Joe's where you live ? U R chuck out of luck.
organic Nanner, local honey, cinnamon, pink himalayin salt....} put chopped nanner into yogurt,
smash it until fusion is achieved, dust with salt & cinnamon...and dig into it with a pre-Loaded spoon of honey.... now return to the living room & kill the television with a powerized baseball bat.

So, we all have experienced that situation, where you're lying in bed thinking about this and that. World politics, pretty girls, our workplaces... And so it goes.
And so a man gets to thinking, I'm not exactly hungry right now but at the same time I wouldnt mind something to eat. Like not a huge meal, and not a chocolate bar either. Various thoughts run by, various things are considered like maybe a bowl of ice cream, some instant noodles, or maybe sardines on toast. Its like a complicated jigsaw puzzle and the pieces dont quite match up.
Like a bolt of lightning when you're out playing golf, it hits you. A blindingly obvious epiphany strikes like a coiled up cobra, as you remember there's a jar of Greek olives in the cupboard. Its a cold night and you dont want to get out of the warm bed to go to the kitchen, but like an unwanted erection the more you think of it the harder it gets.
After some time, you decide to have a few bongs to try and straighten up a bit, but that niggling thought about the olives has taken hold. You put your favourite Enya album on and crank the volume to the maximum, but its still not sufficient to stop your mind racing, thinking about those little black salty treats. You have a few more bongs and pace up and down the hallway, trying to think of reasons why not to hook in, but your inner self is justifying why you should hook in. Sure, everybody else is doing it, you're not harming anybody else, if it was such a major problem olives would be illegal right?

So you roll over languorously, after deciding you will maybe open the olive jar and just sample the liquid. Whats the harm? nobody will notice a tiny bit of liquid missing from a jar of olives, surely. If its a major drama, you can always backfill the jar with cold tea and nobody will be any the wiser.
So you head straight for the kitchen and grab the olive jar firmly. There's a reassuring snap as you crack the seal, and like a bogan leaving a tattoo parlour you realise there's no going back.
You inhale the vapours, thinking of Thessalonika or wherever they make olives, and gingerly taste the fluid. You roll it over your tongue like a hairdresser at a wine tasting, nodding slowly and moaning with pleasure.
So you quickly put the jar back and go back to bed. But you toss and turn and just cant sleep, knowing those greasy little berries are wiggling their backsides at you, more or less.
So you decide enough is enough, and race back to the kitchen with your eyes bulging out like a madman. Throwing all caution to the wind, you clumsily grab the jar in desperation, breaking a few jars of pasta sauce in your haste. Discarding the lid you raise the jar to your lips, the liquid running down both sides of your chin and all over your chest. You know from past experiences how badly olive juices stain the carpet, but you're past the point of caring now.
You chomp those Mediterranean morsels like they're about to be prohibited, eventually you rest against the kitchen bench, totally spent. The jar is empty now, you even used a chopstick to get a few that rolled under the stove, and now all you can think to do is hide the evidence and pretend nothing ever happened.

I was looking for something to snack on this afternoon and found a bag of oranges in the refrigerator. My protocol is to thin cut the peel leaving much of the white pulp. It's called pulp... right?
In doing this, I had a childhood flashback. Amazing!
My family moved to Florida when I was around the age of 7 and there were lots of kids in the neighborhood. Along the back yard was a utility easement wide enough for a pickup truck to collect garbage. The kids were allowed to play there instead of the street.
I recall going with the neighborhood kids to see an old woman who resided on the end of the block.
Her name was Mrs. Gurnett. I'm unsure if she worked or was retired, but I got the feeling she was a nurse or social worker. After school, several of us would go to her back door and call her name. Kinda slowly... Mrs. Gur-nett... and wait a few seconds before repeating the call. Mrs Gur-nett...

Just like magic, Mrs. Gurnett would appear with a plate of goodies for us to eat. It could have been sliced apples, chocolate or thin slices of orange covered with sugar.
Yes, the sugar orange slices were my favorite.

Over the years, I've had a few Deja Vu thoughts when I passed by the confection aisle in the grocery store. While I've been avoiding candy with sugar... if I had to choose it would be a cherry or orange Gummy Bears if I couldn't find the sugared orange slices.

I don't remember the reason we stopped going to see Mrs. Gurnett. Possibly an adult was 'letting us off easy' by fabricating a story that she moved. The house was vacant for a few years and knowing what I know now, she must have passed away and didn't have family to inherit the property.



Mrs. Gurnett... thanks for the memories!

In case you forgot how to cook bacon, one brand offers instructions.

In 1947, Howdy Doody was born. Actually created is the correct word, because Howdy Doody is a puppet (marionette) who appeared in a Western themed children's TV show that ran until 1960.

'47 was the year my brother was born and when he was old enough to watch the TV show, my grandmother bought him a ceramic/porcelain dinner plate with a painting of the Howdy Doody character. I researched to see they also had cups and bowls for the collection. That old plate got lots of use. The face had scratches and the edges became chipped Probably into it's 30th year some stress cracks began to show as it was used in the microwave oven to reheat food.

My brother moved away, my parents died and I inherited the plate. The plate came with us when we moved away from Miami and it was used upside-down over the small rear element on the stove. That gave a flat landing for pots to cool when removed from the front element. Unfortunately, one day the heat or weight made the plate crack into a few pieces.

Emotionally, it stung for a second and I remarked "That plate is older than me!"

I'm pretty resourceful and went to eBay to see if I could get a replacement. I'm in luck as Howdy Doody plates can be purchased for around $20. Hmmm...

I'm a pretty good procrastinator and said: Maybe, another time...

don't ever, never, never, ever, let a fire ant kiss your pole.

I got up at around 7, made coffee, read some news and then started drawing. I should say I skimmed over some headlines because my attention span today is shot.

I wondered what was going on in my head but I have no way to see inside...or do I?

Windows to the soul...hmmm



Well, the 'window' part is pretty accurate.
??


It's probably a good thing I don't try to draw eyes from reference photos!

I've been trying out some new pencils this morning and haven't completed a thing. It's ok though. Practice makes progress...or something.

F'k it. Gonna watch football!

Hold on to your seats kiddies... because MANGO SEASON is just around the bend.
Grocery shopping today and mangoes from Central America around $1 each.
I found a different variety from Mexico that's $2 each.

My tree bears over 300 per season... so many I have to give most of them away!

The photo is what's coming up this season from my place.

I looking for good food and make me feasting all weekend long. In Delray Beach tonight and tomorrow. Watchout on Sunday I living in Miami and looking to be feasting...








(inspired of another blog. I'm not off my rocker)