| October 28 '06 |
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| Volume 543 |
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Henrietta’s
Lemons A Hen's Life
Well, what’s it been, three
months, four months, since I last wrote about my adventures with a local
pharmacist? Perhaps, but since my bout with amnesia, it’s hard for me
to remember if something happened last week or last year. At my age, I count
it a good day if I wake up and can get off my roost. I should mention I’m
a laying hen of the Rhode Island Red variety.
I don’t know if y’all remember my story, but I found myself on
Fred’s parking lot and rode stowaway-style beneath the pickup of a
pharmacist first to a fish house that night and then to his house, where
I took up residence in his yard.
I had it made when I stayed at the pharmacist’s house. Ken (can’t
remember his last name), took good care of me for several weeks. We got to
be good friends. I’d walk with him to get the morning paper, and he’d
feed me some grain before he went back inside. Shoot, he was throwing out
so much corn I was starting to put on weight. I had this cozy roost in his
big blue spruce tree, the dogs in the neighborhood had gotten used to having
a hen around, and my egg production was up. To be honest, I expected to retire
right there and live out the rest of my days.
Life doesn’t always turn out the way one expects, though. And, I blame
my fall from grace on all that danged corn. It gave me gas and worse…lots
of droppings. At times, I thought my output was greater than my input, though
I’m sure that’s not possible. Anyway, I wasn’t about to mess
up my roosting place, so I found this cute little bistro table on the front
porch that suited me just fine.
Apparently, Ken liked the bistro table kept spotless. He took to hosing it
off every few days. I thought he was doing that for me, but I soon found
out otherwise. I’ll bet he never considered all the good fertilizer
he’d be losing, if I were not around. That grass near the bistro table
sure greened-up good, thanks to me.
She didn’t look like a country girl, that nice lady, who came to take
me off Ken’s hands. I heard Ken call her Judy. I can remember that because
Ju-dy rhymes with pur-dy and she was real purdy. We rode what seemed like
forever to get to Judy’s house, a place out in the country.
Judy’s got dogs, cats, chickens, lots of animals around her place. It
took me a few weeks to meet everybody and get settled in…find my place
in the pecking order, you know...but I’ve grown to really like it out
here. In fact, there’s something about it that reminds me of how home
used to be before I ended up in Pontotoc. Maybe, it’s my being footloose
and fancy free.
Yeah, Ken was good to me, but he didn’t have any chickens for me to
talk to and we girls do love to cackle now and then. He didn’t have
a rooster, either, though that’s not a bad thing.
I’ve heard people say, "If life hands you a lemon, make lemonade."
Thus far, I’ve been able to do just that. From the parking lot of
Fred’s to Ken’s front yard, then getting uprooted from city life
and having to adapt to country life, well, that’s life, and life is
what one makes of it. I’m happy and contented staying with Miss Judy,
but if another lemon comes my way, I’ll just make me some more lemonade.
Note: At last report, Judy Rutledge told RRN that Henrietta is doing
just fine.
Neighborhood
Deer How Many Is Too Many
Last winter, three deer were sighted at various times in my neighborhood.
Sarah saw them grazing among the honeysuckle vines in the edge of the woods
behind her house, and other folks saw them crossing just south of there,
on Ridgewood Drive, between the Martin’s house and Raymond and Sue
Montgomery’s.
The deer population in Pontotoc County was pretty insignificant when I was
a youth, due, perhaps, to years of deer being hunted with dogs. I really
don’t know the reason, but I remember over-hunting being given as a
reason for the small numbers of deer. The folks I knew who hunted deer went
to a nearby National Forest or what we called the game reserve or game area.
I suppose if one asked ten individuals why there are more deer in Pontotoc
County than there were fifty years ago one could expect as many as ten different
answers. At least one person would say it’s because of short hunting
seasons. Someone else would fault the bag limits per season, and another
might bemoan trespass laws, or note there are simply fewer sons following
in their father’s footsteps and thus less hunters.
If PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) had its way, there
wouldn’t be any deer hunting or sport hunting of animals. There’s
a fictitious place where PETA folks should be required to live. That place
is Jurassic Park. Stick them among the dinosaurs, and see if they wouldn’t
sing a different tune, that or else become extinct.
Neither Pontotoc County nor Mississippi has had to face an encroachment problem
of deer among humans, but I’ll wager the problem is not more than a
half-century away. In other parts of our country deer have become a menace
to urban gardeners and a safety threat to motorists. If steps to reduce the
deer population are not taken soon, we will likely face similar problems.
The accompanying photo of two fawns seen
in my neighborhood is cute and adorable, today, because it’s a rarity.
When such a scene is the norm, it won’t be cute or adorable.
This picture was taken in the early morning of October 2nd. The
spotted fawns stood fearlessly at the end of Billy Montgomery’s driveway
as I stopped my car and rolled down the window to make the picture. This
pair was within a few feet of where the three adult deer were sighted crossing
Ridgewood Drive last winter. Venison anyone?
Pleasant
Prairie Business Trip To Midwest Region
I work for a large corporation, SUPERVALU. Our core business is grocery
distribution to independent retailers. I’m affiliated with the Indianola
distribution center in Indianola, MS which is a part of the Southeast region
located in Atlanta, GA. A few years ago, the Southeast Region was absorbed
by the Midwest Region in Pleasant Prairie Wisconsin. Oddly, I don’t
sell groceries. I sell services, technology services to be exact. As long
as independent retailers use technology, they’ll probably need my services,
and as long as I charge a fee for my services, SUPERVALU will likely keep
me employed.
Until October 10th of this month, I had never been to Pleasant
Prairie, WI, but a couple of years ago, I had to work a week in Milwaukee,
which is located about thirty miles from Pleasant Prairie. All of the field
specialists, who perform services for retailers much like me, and our bosses
met in the regional office for two days to review our year-to-date progress,
project our anticipated revenues for the remainder of the fiscal year, and
learn of new opportunities in retail technologies.
I was able to meet several individuals in the regional office that I talk
to frequently but had never met face to face. They were as delightful as
I imagined. I also enjoyed seeing the faces of my coworkers, most of whom
I’ve known for about fifteen years, and catching up on the important
happenings in their respective lives since we gathered for a similar meeting
in Atlanta last winter.
Our typical day was breakfast at the motel at seven, drive to the office
for meetings at eight, enjoy a catered lunch at noon, meet until five, drive
to a restaurant for dinner, eat, drink, and be merry, until eight or later,
then return to the motel for a night’s sleep. I don’t normally
eat three meals a day, let alone snacks at mid-morning or mid-afternoon breaks.
Were I to be subjected to such a course of food and drink daily, I’d
quickly balloon to over two hundred pounds. Okay, I’m already over two
hundred. Let’s just say, I’d gain weight in a hurry.
While we typically returned to the motel following dinner each night, on
Thursday night a small group of us visited with Rob Redden at his townhouse
apartment. Rob moved from Champaign, IL, a couple of years ago when an
opportunity opened for him to work with a group of stores in Wisconsin. That
visit would be one of the more enjoyable aspects of my entire week.
Rob, who is now single, is an immaculate housekeeper, has a flair for decorating,
and shows good tastes in antique furnishings. But, it was his great desserts
that drew us to his home on an unseasonably cold night. Hot coffee and homemade
chocolate, cherry, and apple pies may even have been enhanced by the freezing
temperatures outside.
Rob seemed pleased by our questions concerning various furnishings and proudly
explained the significance of several items passed down from his family or
purchased from the estate of his former mother-in-law. I like all things
mechanical and was intrigued by a coffee grinder that was once used in a
general store. It must have weighed fifty pounds or more. His collection
of Waterford crystal was impressive and beautifully displayed in a huge China
cabinet. On a kitchen counter, I overlooked an unusual antique pie safe,
probably because I’d never seen a countertop-sized pie safe. When I
heard others talking about it, I retuned to the kitchen to inspect the pie
safe that wasn’t a lot bigger than a bread box but was roomy enough
with two pie racks inside.
Seeing a number of music books in a bookcase and a creative display of souvenirs
from a Broadway musical, I asked about Rob’s musical interest and learned
Rob had majored in music in college. I don’t remember how Rob explained
his transition to the field of technology, but it made sense at the time.
Rob’s desserts were a hit as was the Gevalia coffee he served us. We
left shortly after enjoying our desserts, since the following day was a travel
day for several of us.
I have a feeling I’ll have to return to Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin
one of these days, and when I do, I hope Rob is still in the area to invite
us over for great desserts and fellowship.
Bodock Beau
Humorous Gleanings
The following were gleaned from the Laugh Letter Newsletter,
September.
That’s No Help
A teacher told her kindergarten pupils that they were to raise their hand
if they had to go to the bathroom.
The next day, one of them said, "Teacher, last night I had to go to the bathroom,
so I raised my hand. But it didn’t help. I still had to go
anyway."
Motherly Advice
For as long as there have been children, mothers have given advice and
admonition. And for just as long, children have ignored it. But what if,
throughout history, children had listened to their mothers? Things might
have been different:
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Get down off that ladder before you fall and break your neck!
—Michelangelo’s mother.
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Don’t start something you can’t finish. —Franz
Schubert’s mother.
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If you’d worn gloves like I told you to, your hands wouldn’t be
cold! —Napoleon’s mother.
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You’re not leaving here with your hair looking like that!
—Marquise de Pompadour’s mother.
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Don’t fly a kite in this weather!" —Benjamin Franklin’s
mother.
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Stop acting like that!"—Sara Bernhardt’s mother
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