Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Guest Writer Linda Bethea – Pass the Chicken Please or Fowl Friends

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Pass the Chicken Please or Fowl Friends

We went places and saw people that most people would never encounter. Daddy had heard of somebody who lived back in the woods about four miles off Tobacco Road who had something he might be interested in buying. He had to check it out, driving forever down muddy roads that looked like they might disappear into nothing. Finally we got back to Mr. Tucker’s shack. Mr. Tucker was wearing overalls and nothing else. While Daddy and Mr. Tucker disappeared into the tangle of weeds and mess of old cars, car tires, trash, old washing machines and other refuse behind their house, Mother and the kids sat in the car. It was hot. Daddy was gone. It got hotter. Daddy was still gone. We opened the car doors, hoping to catch a breeze. It got hotter and hotter. The baby was squalling. Mrs. Tucker…

View original post 1,313 more words

Advertisements

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Guest Writer Linda Bethea – #Family Talk

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

I think we all have “family talk” that outsiders don’t get.

A much-used phrase in our family is, I don’t like what I wanted.

It was first uttered by my little niece, Chelsea. She had a quarter and spent the morning begging her mother to walk her to a nearby store to put the quarter in a vending machine for a prize. As soon as her afternoon nap was over, off they walked for her prize. Upon popping her quarter in, a capsule with a lizard dropped in her hand. She hated it and smashed it to the ground.

“Chelsea, you’ve been wanting a prize all morning. Why did you throw it down?”


”I don’t like what I wanted!”

That line comes in so handy. You can use it referring to a car, a man, a job, or the new shoes that cramp your toes. We use it…

View original post 1,244 more words

Mama Milk My Goat

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

Mama Milk My Goat

Whenever anyone in my family was feeling sorry for herself and expressing it to a point where it was noticeable, another member of the family could be counted upon to use the family saying for such occasions, “Well, Mama milk my goat,” we would say, and if the person’s nose wasn’t too far out of joint, they might snap out of it.  Or, alternatively, stalk away to seclusion where they could fully feel the full extent of their misery without anyone trying to dissuade them from it. Why did we say this? Because my mother had told us all that it was what my grandmother, her mother-in-law, used to say.

My grandmother, a master at martyrdom, used to say it with a small uptake of breath, in a trembling voice.  I can remember hearing her do so, although it may be that sort of childhood memory…

View original post 367 more words

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine Christmas Celebrations the Ninth Day of Christmas with guests Linda Bethea and Sandra J. Jackson

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

So pleased that the Twelve Days of Christmas are bringing some pre-festive enjoyment and thank you to all of those who have reblogged and commented. My special guest today is Linda Bethea who recently joined the blog as a regular guest, with her entertaining family dramas. She is joined by author #Fantasy Sandra J. Jackson who will be sharing her most favourite Christmas gift.

My Christmas Past.

On this ninth day of my own memories of Christmas I have moved on from 1977 when I was not sure what the future would hold for me to the Christmas of 1979.

I had left the school in Sussex where I had been Housekeeper/cook for 18 months and moved in the April 1979 to Wales to be Assistant Manager at a hotel between Dolgellau and Barmouth on the Mawddach Estuary in the stunning Snowdonia National Park.

I was by this time in…

View original post 2,829 more words

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Christmas Guest Post – The Most Dependable Fight of the Year by Linda Bethea

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

The Most Dependable Fight of the Year

Daddy took his hunting very seriously. This was a man’s sport, an entitlement. Real men hunted and fished. A man’s outdoor gear was a reflection of his manhood. Daddy would have sooner worn lace panties than not follow the unwritten rules. His hunting gear was a necessity, not an extravagance like a dependable car, bills paid on time, and clothes for the family. Daddy always had money held out of his paycheck weekly for the Christmas Club, but Mother never could remember that deer season came around the same time as the Christmas Club checks were issued. By early December, both had long unwritten lists in their heads. A day or so before the check was to be issued, Daddy would be in an unaccustomed jovial mood, sitting at the table with one of his buddies drinking coffee, and casually mention his plan…

View original post 1,044 more words

Smorgasbord Laughter Lines – More Christmas Funnies

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

I have been delving into the archives with the saucier side of snowmen and women…..and our resident foodie Carol Taylor Food Column found a wonderful one and shared last week on Facebook.

Christmas at the races.

Riding the favourite at Cheltenham, a jockey was well ahead of the field. Suddenly he was hit on the head by a turkey and a string of sausages. He managed to keep control of his mount and pulled back into the lead, only to be struck by a box of Christmas Crackers and a dozen mince pies as he went over the last fence.

With great skill he managed to steer the horse to the front of the field once more when, on the run in, he was struck on the head by a bottle of sherry and a Christmas pudding. Thus distracted he succeeded in coming in only second.

He immediately went to…

View original post 247 more words

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Weekly Round Up – Christmas book promotions, music, humour and guests.

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

This week has certainly flown by with a few Mary Poppins moments with umbrellas in the rain and high winds. Just as well I have not got rid of that excess stone I was planning on misplacing before Christmas!

Do not take this as a free pass to do what you like eating wise over the festive season (well okay then . eat what you like)..but I am re-releasing my first book Size Matters in 2019 updated and revised to reflect new research and also my experience in the last 20 years as a nutritional therapist – I am going to do this via the blog by editing and updating each chapter on the blog in the first three months of the year. If you are thinking about getting fitter and eating healthier then you might like to take it one step at a time.

The first part of the…

View original post 529 more words

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Christmas Guest Post – Flease Don’t Come Home for Christmas, Willie Tharpe by Linda Bethea

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Flease Don’t Come Home for Christmas, Willie Tharpe

Daddy wasn’t just a magnet for strange characters. He beat the bushes to flush them out. If that hadn’t worked, I believe he’d have up tacked up posters. Mother had no way of anticipating who he might drag in for supper, overnight, or until further notice. I never did understand why she didn’t murder Daddy. He must have slept sometime! Willie Tharpe was a holdover from Daddy’s childhood.

Daddy came in late from work one evening a few days before Christmas about eight-thirty, after one of his rambles, as he so often did. Though he worked shift work, Mother could never anticipate his arrival. As the “Man of the House” his time was his own. Making the living was his only responsibility. It was up to Mother to handle the rest. That evening, Willie Tharpe creaked up behind him in an ancient…

View original post 1,475 more words

Awful Christmas

Nutsrok

Our neighbors, the Alstons were both just a smidge off-plumb.  Mother never referred to the kids any way but as “the Awfuls”,  so I inferred that was the surname of these totally undisciplined urchins.  I was unceasinly envious of their unbridled freedom.  They ate, slept, and rambled at their pleasure, while I chafed at the unreasonable restraints of my miserable life.

Like the rest of us, they couldn’t wait for Christmas. Every year, they starting finding their presents about a week before Christmas.  Daily, one of them turned up something new. One day, Randy had a brand new basketball. The next, Jamey had a new baseball and glove. On Christmas Eve morning Davey buzzed by on a beautiful new Spitfire Bike with a horn. Boy, did that make me mad! I had asked my Mother for that very bike. She said Santa didn’t have enough money to bring me a…

View original post 815 more words