A Pictorial Lunch with Dad ... Friday ... June 6, 2013

This morning I got a call from my sister asking if I wanted to share a day with Dad. Yes! We would make it fun for him. We had a few ideas.

Little did we know that Dad had an idea of his own.

When we arrived at his condo, he had a magazine in his hands open to a page about a restaurant he thought we may try out for lunch today. It's here in downtown Raleigh and the article boasts that it serves the best fried chicken. Dad is not a chicken lover at heart because, when he was young, he grew up raising chickens. But fried chicken? He was ready to see if it was as good as KFC. We were keen on rating the chicken with him. Let's go!



Located at 237 S. Wilmington Street (again, that's downtown folks) is Beasley's Chicken & Honey. You can see by the picture I took above that people were coming in by groups. The only problem? Parking. Bring your credit or debit cards to use in the automated parking meters. $1.00 will get you an hour's worth of parallel parking which is all you need to come in, sit down, order, and enjoy the fare.

Fortunately, I am pretty good at parallel parking but I drove around the block once in order to see if someone would pull out of their spot closer to the restaurant so Dad would not have to walk too far. Voila! As I turned the corner, two cars left the curb almost simultaneously, one in front of the other, and I was able to cruise into my space with room to spare as if the parking angels swept them away just for us. We were not disappointed as we got out and walked in the First Day Of Summer breezes to Beasley's.

Can you see Dad's white head of hair? There he is sitting in the corner. He likes to be in the middle of what's happening, so this table afforded us all a good view of people to watch. At any rate, we ordered from the huge blackboards on the walls, and Dad, of course, got their fried chicken with a side order of their creamy version of macaroni and cheese.



 

He said he really didn't prefer the mac 'n cheese over the regular old-fashioned kind that he is accustomed to but it was creamy and moist. As you can see, beverages are served in jars. They don't have real Coca Colas here but rather RC Colas and Nehi Grape-like drinks and such. Fresh lemonade. So if you are a die-hard Coca Cola lover like myself, just order their sweet tea and have a coke when you get home. My sister was coming off of a cleanse, so she ordered a salad and some veggies. She said it was all good. I ordered their fried chicken sandwich of the day that was really a veggie sandwich that I ordered with chicken thrown in.  It was massive!

 

 

 I did my best to get through it but none of us could eat all of our lunch portions. We all got the remainders to go which came in a brown bag (for me and my sister) with their stamp on it. Cute! I ordered their coconut cake to go as well and I have to tell you it is weighty, sweet, moist, and good for a few sessions with a fork. Our waitperson said it takes them about two days to make. I believe it.

 

 

Dad's leftover chicken came in a tiny box which made us think they had secretly put in some Sesame Chicken with Fried Rice or maybe a fortune cookie.

 



 

When you go to Beasley's ask for Katie. She's fabulous! Her smile and warm persona really made our day.

 

 

We admit that the bill was too high . . . about $44.00 for four people ... for lunch. Wow! So that credit card or debit card you brought to pay for your meter will come in handy. Phew!

 

Onward to our next fun thing of the day which was going to my house to play Parcheesi with Dad. Dad picked yellow (his favorite flower color), I picked red (my favorite color of anything) and my sister was left with a mix of green and blue (my cats know where the rest are . . . probably batted under a couch or bed).

 



 

Growing up we played a lot of board games and my Dad taught us as young children to win! But I will have to admit that I was feeling pretty bad for Dad when he was constantly being sent 'home' by my sister at the beginning of the game. But as luck would have it, she was then being sent home and he finally had a chance to get his men out and about the board. At the very end, we were neck and neck like the horses in the Preakness. We were sitting at my pub table hollering for our dice to "come on, come on!" We all needed a one on our dice to win.

 

 

Well, this go-round my sister won, so we will have to set up the board game another time and see who's on first. Hope it's you, Dad!

 

Thanks for the memory.

 

I love you.

 

 

(c)nancy 6.22.2013



 

 

 



 

A Day With Dad

 

 

June 14, 2013 - Friday

 

Today I picked Dad up at his condo around eleven in the morning. He was all dressed in a perky yellow shirt and light-colored khakis ready and waiting for the day. Me too! Not that I was wearing a yellow shirt or khaki pants, but I was excited to spend the day with Dad.

 

First off we drove to Five Points and picked up one of his prescriptions. Of course, when we were waiting at the small pharmacy counter, Dad saw someone he knew and I saw someone I knew. So we both chatted with our respective friends and then said hello to one anothers' and took our package and walked arm in arm across the street to the Post Office.

 

"Where have you been?" the lady behind the counter asked Dad. He then proceeded to fill her in about the fact that he'd had a stroke and can't drive now. She said cheerfully that she was glad to see that he was upright and walking! Dad paid for two sheets of flower stamps and we were off to our next adventure.

 

All the way to the other end of Glenwood Avenue we drove with the windows down enjoying the cooler air that whooshed in last night on a storm taking Dad's electricity out for the night. He said he did not have power until around nine this morning. We were glad it had cooled down in the 60's for that fiasco. My lights flickered but graciously stayed on.

 

At any rate, we reached the parking lot of the Food Lion where we walked in, grabbed a cart, and went in search of sodas to buy for tomorrow's cookout. Father's Day and other celebrations included in the hot dog event at my sister's house. While there we grabbed some Doritos just in case anyone would like some (mainly me). Then a bar of Ivory soap for Dad.

 

Back in the car and on around the corner to the Goodwill. There we perused the shelves that held books for sale. $1.75 for hardbacks no matter how thick. Dad found a few and so did I. He was looking for some of his favorite authors, especially Stuart Woods, but no luck. We paid in cash (no checks or credit cards taken) for them at the counter. Dad gave the lady his money and said, "Keep the change". She smiled and said she would give it to some people in need. Again, we went back in the car arm in arm.

 

Still driving with the windows down, we made it to my street and turned in, and caught a glimpse of a deer crossing the road. I slowed down and there in the neighbor's yard was a doe and its little spotted fawn. Bambi, anyone? How adorable. But it had a limp and I wanted to grab it and take it to the Veterinary School. But it turned its head and looked at us, seemed happy, so we drove slowly on to my house where we went inside and settled down on the couch (for Dad) and in the kitchen (for me). I made us some open-faced ham and cheese sandwiches on rosemary sourdough bread for our 'picnic lunch' which I crisped in the little toaster oven. Yum. I cut them up like little canapes in hopes it would help Dad chew small bites. We ate them while sitting on the couches and had fun talking.

 

Afterward, I grabbed the new potatoes in the fridge I had boiled the previous night and sat back down on the couch to cut them up in a bowl while Dad read more stories to me. What a delight to hear him laugh and enjoy the tales. He is quite the storyteller. He read from a book that was written in 1945 by someone who had been a boarder in his grandparent's huge house on Market Street in Washington, N.C. (Carl Goerch; founder of Our State Magazine). What fun. I am looking forward to reading it as well.

 

When the potato salad preparation was done for the moment, we decided to open the screen door to the porch. I set him up in the shade with a glass of water over ice. He read with the breezes blowing while I began to make us a treat. A shortcake recipe that is really good. My idea? To take them hot out of the oven, and we could eat them with melted butter and some maple syrup or honey drizzled in the middle. All the cutting in of the cold, sweet butter and the kneading and the rolling and the cutting out in biscuit rounds was to no avail. I have no idea if it was the fine weather, the gas oven (which I do not like how it bakes), or just what, but they would not cook in the middle. Just a gooey mass with crisp outer shells. Poo!

 

Well, my freezer ice cream didn't work out either this week. A grand recipe from The Two Fat Ladies Cookbook that looked really easy to prepare and sounded delicious but which ended up looking like frozen mashed potatoes. I don't think the cooking gods were with me this week so I have laid that notion aside until next week. Better luck? We'll see.

 

So I got my book and joined Dad on the porch to read. But not before I gave him a manicure that he asked for. His nails were willy nilly and he has nice nails when they are filed. I like doing it for him but I leave his toenails for my sister!

 

Before we knew it, the time on my iPhone read almost 4:00, the time I told my brother-in-law that I would bring Dad back to the condo. (He and my sister were living with Dad at his condo, for a time, after he fell and broke his hip.) I asked Dad if he'd like to stay longer but he said he should probably get back. I know he likes to read his mail and catch up with the newspaper. I don't suppose he had time this morning to get it all done.

 

Thanks for the memory, Dad. I love you. Happy Father's Day.

(c)nancy 6.15.2013



Queen Anne's Lace for my Mother

June 13, 2013

I went out this morning to a spot where I know that my mother's favorite flower blooms wildly. It's called Queen Anne's Lace. As you can see in the picture that I took above, it is a beautiful round, white, lacy thing that sits on top of a sturdy green stem. You can find these wild flowers along the roadside. I have tried digging some up and planting them in my own gardens without much luck. Seeds? Not much luck either. It's as if they want to grow where they want to grow and be free to blow in the wind and look pretty. Dainty. Pure.

So I rode out this morning with a pitcher of water and some scissors to the place where they grow and parked in the hot sun, walked out along the dirt path, and tromped in high weeds to snip some blooms for my mother's grave. I don't like to use the word 'grave' but rather I usually say, "I went out to see mom today" or "I'm going to mom's today to sit and read, or bring flowers . . . ". Grave sounds so grave, so final . . . the end.

It's not.

While I was gathering the flowers, I thought back to the other times when I came out to this spot with my mother or with my mother and father. We would jump in my car after my mom would suggest she'd like some Queen Anne's Lace for her den. So off we'd go like three peas in a pod to make her wish come true. I can still picture my mother's delight as we would walk along the path, and she'd point and say, "that one" and I'd lean over to cut it and hand it back to her and she would put it in the vase she was holding in her hands. The thrill on her face was worth it all. It's not as if these flowers have some sort of vibrant scent or color to make them worth the picking. The opposite.

To see a Queen Ann's Lace is to see my mother. Someone dainty, pure, sweet, not frilly or highly scented but elegant in simplicity. Standing tall in the midst of her surroundings or any pain she had to endure through her life. No thorns.

So here's to you, momma, and remembering you as the time approaches when, a year ago, you fell and life was unendurable. May you know that you are missed every second as time still clicks by on this Earth. May you feel as free and beautiful as the white Queen Anne's Lace that grows wildly and randomly along unpaved roads.

I'm thinking of you.

(c) 6.13.2013