Her brother was on the sofa, eatin' chocolate pie.I fried up some chicken last night. Every time I fry chicken this song goes through my brain. I made some of my usual kick-ass chicken gravy to go with the mashed spuds and biscuits.
Momma was in the kitchen, cuttin' chicken up to fry.
Daddy was in the backyard, rollin' up a garden hose
I was on the porch with Charlotte, feelin' love down to my toes.
and we were swingin' (swingin')
yes we were swingin' (swingin') --John Anderson *
There were some awesome football games yesterday. I was hoping there existed some miracle rule that could cause both the Steelers and the Jets to lose. How do the Giants choke away that game? I don't care if I have to hire some guy who punted at the local high school, the Giants punter has to go. Not punching the final kick out of bounds is inexcusable.
Today is my last working day of the year. Good for me. I have a quick conference call with the boss this morning and my December expenses are waiting to be filed. Then I will spend the balance of the day cleaning up my desk etc.
We are heading down the Christmas home stretch. I sill have a few gifts to purchase for the wife. Well, if I am honest, I have all of the gifts yet to purchase, but who is keeping score? There is a mixed back of sports metaphors to chew on.
I am not sure I like the red/green look of the old blog. I may mess with it a little more. But then I may not. You should probably check back eight or ten times today just see if I have made any changes.
* My wife simply loathes that song. Perhaps for the same reason people named "Mandy" loathe Barry Manilow. Never mind, there are a lot of reasons to hate Barry Manilow.
1 comment:
I agree with your wife on the "swingin" song. There are so many other great country music songs that included fried chicken or other good food:
Kenny Chesney's:
"We all have a song that some how stamped our lives
Takes us to another place and time
So I go back to a pew, preacher, and a choir
Singin’ about God, brimstone and fire
And the smell of Sunday chicken after church"
Both my dad and mom could make some mean fried chicken.
We lost dad in 1992 and Andy Griggs' song about the loss of his brother brings all that back. I only have to adjust his 1985 date to 1965.
"If heaven was an hour, it would be twilight
When the fireflies start their dancin on the lawn
And suppers on the stove and mamma's laughin
And everybodys workin day is done
If heaven was a town it would be my town
On a summer day in 1985
And everything I wanted was out there waiting
And everyone I loved was still alive.
Chorus:
Dont cry a tear for me now baby
There comes a time we must all say goodbye
And if thats what heavens made of
You know I ain't afraid to die
If heaven was a pie it would be cherry
Cool and sweet and heavy on your tongue
And just one bite would satisfy your hunger
And there'd always be enough for everyone
If heaven was a train it sure would be a fast one
That could take this weary travler round the bend
And if heaven was a tear it'd be my last one
And you'd be in my arms again."
Well thanks HB for making me cry all because of your bad fried chicken "swingin" song.
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