Not sure what this means but everything I see in the antique store seems to be the same stuff we had in our house growing up . Probably I'm gonna see this more . I'm going to live to be 100.
I went to the antiques mall last month . We were visiting family in Louisville to celebrate my brothers 40th birthday and we decided to hit up the antique shop . The antique shops in northern towns seem to have more good stuff than the ones back home . I think because it's the stuff grandparents unload before packing up Buick and moving to Tuscon or St. Pete . The stuff you find down here in Florida is that touristy kitsch grandma bought once she got down here but is now on a shelf in a run down shop on main street . So the aqua place setting for eight with dolphins in the center and matching cups sit behind the hazy antique windows collecting dust because Myrtle kicked the bucket and Frank has moved in with that tart 3 doors down . She has her own kitch . That's what I heard anyway .
Flea markets for me are more fun than Antique shops. I want to say it's because there is more to look at but in all honesty it's because of the food there . It's just like the stuff you get at the fair when it comes to town . Deep fried and covered in sugar or sauce without an ounce of some ingredient that might be called good for you . The flea market in Waldo has the doughnut guy that makes mini baby doughnuts to order for you . He's got this machine that squirts out the dough (12 baby doughnuts) onto a little mini river of oil and as the dough floats down it changes to golden brown and gets flipped by an cute little arm into a basket and immediately gets doused with glaze or powdered sugar or chocolate or cinnamon and MY GOSH why am I typing this ? I'm going into a glucose spasm ! Sorry . I'm dieting .
I've found that pawing through other peoples cast offs is a cheap date we both enjoy . My one and only and I love to go to the flea market or antique shop but mostly it's from the yard sale we seem to come home with something . A piece of furniture , books , a blender . Pants . Whoa there big boy . Never pants . I just can't wear something someone mighta peed in . Toys are an abundant item . Little junior grows up ya know . We used to Christmas shop for the kids at yard sales and what's sweet is finding someone who's kid is a couple years older than yours and crashing their yard sale each year. You get age appropriate stuff for like 3 cents on the dollar and with a little bleach it's as good as new . And if you have boys you can skip the bleach !
Terri always goes with something in mind while I'm just content to browse . She seems to like picture frames and glasses . The drinking kind . She's asked me over the years to make a frame or three and I grunt like the neanderthal I am and whack something out that would embarrass the kids in ninth grade shop class so she's gone to look elsewhere . She's found some nice ones though . She has a good eye . She bought some drinking glasses at the last stop , tall and kinda rainbow colored . I took one out of the cupboard and had a glass of milk with my . . .uuuhh . . .err . . . lettuce .
"Who used one of the new glasses?"
"I did . Why?"
"Wha . . .You can't use those . Y'all broke all the others!"
"Broke what? What others?"
"The ones we bought at Target . We had 16 of 'em and now we're down to 2 ."
"So these cups are like the towels hanging in the bathroom ? They only look like you should use them but you can't . 'Cause they match ."
"Exactly ."
Exactly .
Cast Iron skillet . I guess that is something I always look for . I don't know where it came from but I've had this fascination with all things cast iron of late . I guess since I'm becoming old I'm developing a love for things old fashiony . Read : things older than me ! We had a cast iron skillet for years in the back of the cupboard and never used it but somewhere along the way Terri pulled it out and we've never looked back . The thing is indestructible . It looks so industrial and they last forever . Every time I read a western and a cowboy throws a T-bone in a cast iron skillet over a camp fire I get weak in the knees . I'm looking for one with the ridges in it so when you cook a steak it gives you those grill marks . Awesome . I have a 12 inch and a 6 inch. I'll cook bacon in the 12 and get the 6 real hot , put in some bacon grease and crack a couple eggs in it and watch as they practically leap out of the pan . I brown 'em up good and slide them out on a plate with the bacon , Texas toast and a mess of cheese grits and wash it down with a cup of coffee from the cast iron kettle . That , is how you do breakfast !
Most every flea market or antique shop has a hand full of them and almost without exception they look like they need to be sand blasted ! I mean they're rusted and dirty , old and worn out and some I swear look like they still have meat particles left in them . I'm wondering if they are really trying to sell them or if they're just there to give an old timey feel to the store . Or stall , depending on where you're shopping . But you can sand blast cast iron so no matter how bad it looks , how ugly and worn and out of date out it seems , it has real value under the aged exterior . It may be old , but it's got plenty of life left . An awesome weapon in the kitchen arsenal .
Speaking of old and worn out . . . I turn 50 this weekend . I know right ? I look , what , 38 ? Clean living and Krispy Kreme's . It's so funny 'cause I'll catch a glimpse in the mirror for a split second and I look like I might have 20 years ago but when the steam clears the old guy is back . We all think we are younger than we are sometimes don't we ? But I go through the day choosing to think I look like the 30 year old and can do things my 30 year old self could do based on a foggy glimpse .It's the equivalent of putting my fingers in my ears and going " la la la la " but they say you are as young as you think you are so who knows . I do know I'm not what I once was , the years adding weight , aches , pains and taking away hair and memory . And I'm only half way . Some day's I feel like a flea market skillet with a bit too much rust and maybe a meat particle or two here and there and in need of a good scrubbing . Still valuable though . Still usable . Still have a place in the kitchen of life . Thank God . Thank God He made me out of tough stuff and seasoned me well for use in His kitchen . I hope I'll be found to not be one of the too many cooks in the kitchen but instead be the instrument he uses to cook up life for generations to come .
So I'm on to the next 50 . . . y'all coming ?
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Fire
Top caveman discovery , quick . Ok , right, you saw the title so yeah , fire was the first thing to come to my mind too . Well full disclosure here , it was second but since it's a christian blog I wasn't going to say sex came to mind first but there it is . I'm a Neanderthal . Sue me . If I have been a cave woman the answer would be curtains .
My first experience with flame was on my first birthday . Dad smoked so I'd seen fire before . He pulled the magic paper sticks from his pocket and flicked his wrist and fire would appear . Pretty . But he was 6 feet tall and I was only about a foot , so I never got up close and personal with it until my birthday . Mom set me on the table in front of a cake and grabbed the Kodak . I didn't know what it was (the cake) 'cause it was my first birthday so I touched it . Tasty . There was a stick mashed into the middle of the cake and dad did his wrist flicking thing and the fire touched the stick and it was on fire too ! Oooo. . . pretty . As the pictures tell it this smiling baby reached out to touch the pretty which turned out to be hot and apparently fairly painful . I often get miffed at parents who film little junior rolling his trike off a cliff and just as he's going over they drop the camera and run screaming and all we really end up with is a shot of a patch of dandelions with crying in the background . This is what they send to Americas Funniest Videos ? Kudos to mom and dad for sticking with the camera .
Boys like fire don't they? Something mystical and magical and powerful about it that must be innate in boys (and men too) that draws us. Anytime we do a bonfire or camp fire the boys want to toss in sticks , paper and anything else that might be flammable in the fire and stir it around while the girls are standing at the edges swishing away the smoke . We love the smell of it in our clothes after something like that and if we get soot on out faces all the better . Don't get me wrong, girls like fire too but more along the line of candles at dinner and rose petals and candles in the bedroom . There's a story I'm not allowed to tell of a couple whose bed caught on fire when a cand. . . . and I'm not allowed to tell .
I found out this summer that fire makes noise , apparently loud enough to wake a whole island of campers and keep 'em up all night . I'm no rugged outdoors-man but often I long for the good old days of the dust covered and weary cowboy laying on his bed roll next to the fire with the metal coffee pot hanging over it on a stick . The sound of a harmonica softly breaks the silence as he gazes up at a sky so full of stars it's almost too bright , and he wonders to himself how in the world his horse learned to play the harmonica . He lays back , his head on a rock and with the brim of his 10 gallon hat pulled down over his forehead he begins to dream of bacon and eggs cooking over that same fire in a cast iron skillet . Zzzz . . . .
Not that I've ever camped like this . It's just how I imagine real camping . I do like to sleep under the stars tho and I usually bring a hammock to string between 2 trees . Not a bed roll but close enough and I laid there this summer staring up at a star filled Maine sky and gave thanks to God for so much and He spoke to me , I'm almost certain of this . He said something along the line of "Mark, you shoulda brought bug spray". Most people imagine the silence of the woods as being refreshing and a thing of wonder but I can tell you from experience that it only enhances the sounds of the thousand mosquitoes feasting on the succulent skin of the dude dumb enough to sleep in the woods . A fella dumb enough to sleep (ha) in a string hammock so they could get at both sides . So I got up and started a camp fire and sat around it for 6 hours feeling only slightly more miserable that the campers in tents wondering what idiot is up at 2 in the morning making fire . They're just lucky I left my horses harmonica in the bag with the bug spray .
As much as I love fire there's one I can't seem to get going . Or if I do it's like burning wet wood , mostly smoke with a small flame and little heat . A Boy Scout of the heart I'm not . I was getting ready to say I long for there to be a fire for God and a fire for life but the truth is I long for not much . I guess mediocrity will do that to you . I don't know where it started but I'd like it to end and for my life to burst into a red hot flame of passion for the important . There is an old song that says "It only takes a spark to get a fire going . . ." but I'm not sure that's true for me . Didn't Paul say to Timothy to fan into flame the gift of God ? How's that work ? I just don't know . I just don't know .
So I end this bit of so called writing in need of advice .Where would you go or what would you do ? How do you handle the dull gray days of life that seem to go on without the heat and light of the love of God ? Anybody? Anybody? Stumbling indeed . . . .
My first experience with flame was on my first birthday . Dad smoked so I'd seen fire before . He pulled the magic paper sticks from his pocket and flicked his wrist and fire would appear . Pretty . But he was 6 feet tall and I was only about a foot , so I never got up close and personal with it until my birthday . Mom set me on the table in front of a cake and grabbed the Kodak . I didn't know what it was (the cake) 'cause it was my first birthday so I touched it . Tasty . There was a stick mashed into the middle of the cake and dad did his wrist flicking thing and the fire touched the stick and it was on fire too ! Oooo. . . pretty . As the pictures tell it this smiling baby reached out to touch the pretty which turned out to be hot and apparently fairly painful . I often get miffed at parents who film little junior rolling his trike off a cliff and just as he's going over they drop the camera and run screaming and all we really end up with is a shot of a patch of dandelions with crying in the background . This is what they send to Americas Funniest Videos ? Kudos to mom and dad for sticking with the camera .
Boys like fire don't they? Something mystical and magical and powerful about it that must be innate in boys (and men too) that draws us. Anytime we do a bonfire or camp fire the boys want to toss in sticks , paper and anything else that might be flammable in the fire and stir it around while the girls are standing at the edges swishing away the smoke . We love the smell of it in our clothes after something like that and if we get soot on out faces all the better . Don't get me wrong, girls like fire too but more along the line of candles at dinner and rose petals and candles in the bedroom . There's a story I'm not allowed to tell of a couple whose bed caught on fire when a cand. . . . and I'm not allowed to tell .
I found out this summer that fire makes noise , apparently loud enough to wake a whole island of campers and keep 'em up all night . I'm no rugged outdoors-man but often I long for the good old days of the dust covered and weary cowboy laying on his bed roll next to the fire with the metal coffee pot hanging over it on a stick . The sound of a harmonica softly breaks the silence as he gazes up at a sky so full of stars it's almost too bright , and he wonders to himself how in the world his horse learned to play the harmonica . He lays back , his head on a rock and with the brim of his 10 gallon hat pulled down over his forehead he begins to dream of bacon and eggs cooking over that same fire in a cast iron skillet . Zzzz . . . .
Not that I've ever camped like this . It's just how I imagine real camping . I do like to sleep under the stars tho and I usually bring a hammock to string between 2 trees . Not a bed roll but close enough and I laid there this summer staring up at a star filled Maine sky and gave thanks to God for so much and He spoke to me , I'm almost certain of this . He said something along the line of "Mark, you shoulda brought bug spray". Most people imagine the silence of the woods as being refreshing and a thing of wonder but I can tell you from experience that it only enhances the sounds of the thousand mosquitoes feasting on the succulent skin of the dude dumb enough to sleep in the woods . A fella dumb enough to sleep (ha) in a string hammock so they could get at both sides . So I got up and started a camp fire and sat around it for 6 hours feeling only slightly more miserable that the campers in tents wondering what idiot is up at 2 in the morning making fire . They're just lucky I left my horses harmonica in the bag with the bug spray .
As much as I love fire there's one I can't seem to get going . Or if I do it's like burning wet wood , mostly smoke with a small flame and little heat . A Boy Scout of the heart I'm not . I was getting ready to say I long for there to be a fire for God and a fire for life but the truth is I long for not much . I guess mediocrity will do that to you . I don't know where it started but I'd like it to end and for my life to burst into a red hot flame of passion for the important . There is an old song that says "It only takes a spark to get a fire going . . ." but I'm not sure that's true for me . Didn't Paul say to Timothy to fan into flame the gift of God ? How's that work ? I just don't know . I just don't know .
So I end this bit of so called writing in need of advice .Where would you go or what would you do ? How do you handle the dull gray days of life that seem to go on without the heat and light of the love of God ? Anybody? Anybody? Stumbling indeed . . . .
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