Fried Chicken Delight

Last night, Adam offered to make fried chicken -- um, make that buttermilk-double-dipped fried chicken. I think the double dipping was a bit of a pain for him. But this chicken had the BEST after-dinner taste EVER. I didn't brush my teeth. I sat on the couch and savored the zippy, yummy flavor in my mouth for about an hour.
Here's the dipped chicken:
Frying it up:
Served with some garden-fresh tomatoes:
Anna looking cute in an apron:
Julia ALMOST avoided having her picture taken:
The chef. I made that apron!
Peter is at the beach with friends and missed the chicken. Philip was sick last night, so he had his supper brought to him on a tray.

At Julia's Request:

I made sopapillas for breakfast. Or, considering our sleep patterns these days, they might be called brunch.
Use any biscuit recipe you like, because that's basically what this is: flour, b.p. salt, cut in shortening/butter/lard, and add milk. Sounds like biscuits to me! As you work it lightly, fold it over numerous times to add loft. You should roll it out rather thin then, if you want them to be light as air, which mine weren't quite, this morning.
I used peanut oil for frying. They fry up very quickly. And for some of you who are TERRIFIED of fried foods, if I weighed the amount of peanut oil I started with, and the amount I ended up with afterward, I really don't think there's much actual oil IN the sopapillas (Okay, let's just go ahead and call them donuts. Or fried biscuits.) Just sayin' -- because they were IN some blazing hot oil for 30 seconds doesn't mean they're oily.

Drain them on a rack, so they don't sit in their oil either. Sprinkle with conf. sugar & cinnamon.
Add a drizzle of honey. Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.
Anna approved.
And Julia said she loves me :)

Product Post #7: Shovels

Boy, have we run through some shovels! A shovel in our family generally lasts 1 to 2 years. Hey -- we do a lot of digging! Rocks, bushes, unlevel terrain -- our yard has needed a lot of work. Southern red clay is HEAVY.

So, our fiberglass handle from Southern States? It lasted one year. Sheesh. But it was cheap -- about $20. It's hard to find a shovel for less than that. And Adam priced a nice wooden-handled shovel. At WalMart, one with a pine (as in, CHEAP) handle was $39. Sigh. He wanted a decent one with a hickory handle.

And then he went to: SEARS! You know, one of those stores in the mall that nobody shops at anymore? Well, let me tell you! It's heavy duty. It has an ash handle (better than hickory!) And it's a Craftsman. Can you say Lifetime Warranty? Oh yeah! And, um, did I mention that it cost only $19.99?
There's the warranty writing, right there. And on the back of the receipt too. If this shovel ever breaks (if? ha!!), we just return it to ANY store, nationwide, that sells Craftsman tools, and it's replaced immediately. Just. Like. That.
See? Heavy Duty! (Philip is out there digging the fire pit as we speak.) See the little round logo? It says, "Forever." Music to my ears!
Now I will go tape the Sears receipt to my vanity mirror where I can find it when needed. No more shovel worries! Take THAT, WalMart!

That Late-August Feeling

I am feeling so blah, and I'm blaming it on the weather. Because the weather can't argue, can it? As I said, our pool died. Here is its vacant spot, soon to become a fire pit. I have missed the serenity of cooling off from the HEAT in some water.
This summer was so dry for about a month, and has been so incredibly hot lately, that many trees already have turning and falling leaves. Here is one in our neighbors' yard.
The dryness killed a few plants. This azalea is half-alive, half-dead. It's in the double row of azaleas along our front walk. What to do? Dig it out? Cut it back? Hope for resurrection?
I have 2 potted chrysanthemums that come back year after year -- very large. This year they got zapped. I'm hoping that little bit of green indicates that there is still life in the roots, but there will be no large balls of purple this fall.
And so many things are just dry and weary, like me. My hydrangeas gave it their all this year. They are spent.


The sedum, however, seems to have endured.
This bed was so weedy. I loathe working in the heat, and I do not like yard work in general -- I know, a bad combination! Finally, yesterday morning, I attacked it and yanked out ALL WEEDS. I don't know that it looks much better, but I feel victorious.
This bed, however, remains in desperate need of help. There are hostas there (two of which never really took off this year as they did other years), and an astilbe that was swallowed up sometime last month.
The magnificent rugosa rose. She is tired, tired, tired. This is exactly how I feel, as if I'm hanging on with my fingernails.

Ever since we returned from Mississippi and have heard nothing from them about the job, I've become more and more discouraged. It doesn't seem to matter much if it's logical. I blame it on hormones, or on the weather, or whatever else I can scrounge up, but the fact is, long-term under-employment is discouraging and causes gradual despair. It sneaks up on you, and it doesn't take much to lay you low. And as those of you know who go through regular trials, it comes and goes. I imagine my late-August feeling of dried-out, worn-out weariness will pass inexplicably at some point. It usually does. But I do need the refreshing rain of God's blessings to fall on me. "Showers of blessings," the hymn says. Little drops of daily mercies are nice, but sometimes in life we need showers.

I am SO lethargic today. Honestly, I could have just stayed in bed and slept, on and off, all day. As I lay like a slug on the couch, I felt lazy, and guilty. I thought of all those teachers out there, getting back into the daily grind of the classroom, while I lay here, at home, gazing blithely at the ceiling. Why was I so tired?

After a nice nap, I remembered what I'd done this summer. Retrieved a son from college, taken a daughter to the mountains to work for the summer, had quite a bit of company (including my s-i-l and her 6 kids for a week), took 2 kids to camp, drove to W.Va. twice, went to Music Conference for a week, and drove to Mississippi for Adam's job interview. Then I collapsed. I think maybe I deserve a little break.

We're waiting to hear back from the church in Mississippi where Adam candidated. It's hard to wait. I felt extremely encouraged while we were there, and for a few days afterword, but our employment situation has been discouraging for SO long that, unless I'm given very frequent good news, I quickly become disheartened. I'm tired of waiting for good news.

Our pool died. It's served us well for 4 summers, although last summer was honestly too cool to swim as much as we like to (every day), and this summer's crazy weather wasn't much better. Hopefully we'll get another Easy Set pool next summer; it's been a good investment. It's sad, though, that our swimming is over for the summer, because the hot weather certainly is NOT over. Upper 90s today - ugh!

In spite of my doldrums of spirit, I made bread, went shopping, went to church & choir practice, did laundry, vacuumed and made dinner in the past 3 days. Not too bad. Oh, and I wrote a short story and 2 essays, but those things come popping out of my head whether I like it or not.

So, if I don't post tomorrow, you'll know I just stayed in bed.

What I ate today:

I went outside yesterday, in 98 degree heat, so today I stayed home. For breakfast, I had homemade, toasted zucchini bread with butter. This from a dear lady at church.

For lunch:
Those are our tomatoes. And when tomatoes are in the garden, a BLT is calling my name!!
This afternoon, I felt a terrible need for a cold, creamy drink. I began looking through my wall pictures on facebook. (For you facebookers out there, that will tell you how bored I was today.) I found a picture from vacation of a glass of iced coffee with scoops of chocolate ice cream. Adam obliged and made some.

For supper, he made a baked chicken. He stuffed it with onion, garlic, basil, rosemary & a whole lime. He rubbed it with butter and sea salt. The skin was exceedingly yummy.
He also made some Spanish gazpacho today, a first. We heard the recipe for this cold soup while driving back from Mississippi, on The Splendid Table.

It was a good food day!

Oh, WalMart, why we hate thee!

We went grocery shopping at WalMart today. We go weekly. Now, ever since I started this real food/ slow food thing, I notice what's on the shelves. So, imagine my joy when I saw this product on the tomato aisle, for the FIRST TIME today!
Now, I've had these tomatoes before; I bought them at a junky store nearby with dinged and dented stuff. Love the organic. Love the fire-roasted. And lookie!! A coupon! For $1.00 off! So, I snatched up 2 cans, so I could use that coupon (handily, right on the back), and made my way to the check-out.

That's where my joy ran out.
I pulled the coupon off, and glanced at it as I stood in line.

It expired in May. Hmmph.

They put the product on the shelf for the first time in August, with a flashy coupon to lure you in, that expired 3 months ago. Hmmph and Grrr.

The lady at the check-out, seeing my grumpiness, offered to go ask her supervisor. She returned with the supervisor, who frowned at me, said, "Sorry," but "I just can't give you that $1 b/c the coupon is expired."

Yeah. I knew that.

"But, you put the product on the shelf with the coupon on it," I said. "If you didn't want me to use the coupon, you shouldn't have put it on the shelf." I think at this point I was inadvertently using my teacher voice (calm, authoritative, articulate). She said, "Just a minute," and went to appeal to the THIRD LEVEL OF USELESS BUREAUCRACY that is your local WalMart. While this uber-efficient, massive national institution flexed its laughable efficiency muscles at us, two customers waited behind me in the line. I apologized to them. I was glad to have husbandly support.

The supervisor's supervisor came then, and instructed the lowly check-out lady to give me the $1 they'd already advertised to me on their shelves. The check-out lady, smart one that she is, asked the other one to initial the coupon herself. Can you say Nervous Employee?

Then we all apologized to each other, and I took my tomatoes and left.

Adam's evaluation on the scene reminded him of a chef/restaurant owner he worked for once who practiced "exchanging nickels for dollars." All this meant was that he regularly gave his customers little things that were meaningful to them, but cost him little, and made him a Restaurant Hero in their eyes. And they returned, over and over.

The reason we all hate WalMart is because they are stupid enough to think that beating one customer over the head with such bad treatment is worth it to them. In the long run, it won't be. Adam reminded me just yesterday that when we moved to Jackson, MS as children, there was no WalMart. When I left for college, there was no WalMart. Even when I was 30, there was no SuperWalMart. WalMart used to be trendy; now we all know it's the icky place to shop, and you only go there b/c you save money. Nobody goes there because it's fun. Bad customer service is one of the first nails in its coffin.

WalMart should empower their checkers to give a $1 coupon that is on THEIR product, on THEIR shelves. It shouldn't take 2 supervisors. And I should never, ever have a supervisor tell me that a coupon that appeared on their shelves this past week, will not be honored. Ever.

***

Oh, and one more thing. I just shared this blog post with my friends on Facebook. All 442 of them.