August 25 '07

                                                    

Volume 586

                   


The Journey 40th Wedding Anniversary

Heart Shaped Journey NecklaceLast January, I asked my wife what she envisioned for our fortieth wedding anniversary. Her response startled me and left me wondering if she had misunderstood the question.

"I’d like for us to go out and eat."

Granted we don’t eat out a lot, but I felt like a milestone such as the fourth decade of marriage should be celebrated with something other than dining away from home. Honestly, I half expected her to say we should vacation in Hawaii, take a cruise, head to a beach in Florida, or drive up to Branson, Missouri for a few days of musical entertainment. Nevertheless, I know a good thing when I hear it, and I’d just heard it. Eating out would be a lot less expensive than those other options.

We were prepared to help Sarah financially with Felicia’s wedding, but my sister wanted to shoulder the expenses herself. My guess is she figured she could hold her sacrifice over Felicia’s head someday as a way to inflict guilt on her daughter should ever the need arise.

"I could have a new stove by now, had I not spent so much on your wedding," or "If I ever get the note for your wedding paid off, I’m going to get a plumber out here to fix the washroom drain," are statements Felicia should prepare herself to hear.

Barbara’s been talking about a sleigh bed/ bedroom suite for the past few years as if her life would be complete if she had one. But, when I suggested one for her birthday or our anniversary, she hedged.

"I can wait; we need the money for other things."

If there’s one thing I’m not skilled at it’s picking up on subtle hints that Barbara drops from time to time; hints that provide clues as to what she wants for some special occasion but won’t come out and say it. Barbara claims she hinted for diamond earrings for a decade before I gave her a pair one Christmas. Three years before our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary she reminded me that I had promised her a larger diamond ring than the one I could afford at the time I bought her an engagement ring.

"You said, ‘I’ll buy you an anniversary ring for our 25th anniversary,’" she declared and told me often enough over the next few years for me to realize I had better honor my word, which, I should add, I don’t remember pledging.

In 1967, we married four days after my August birthday, though we originally discussed a December wedding when I would be off from my teaching job for a couple of weeks. However, family time at Christmas was always big on Barbara’s list, so she talked me into our getting married before the school year started.

In early August this year, I began to think of what I could do to surprise my wife for our 40th anniversary. A co-manager at one of the Sunflower stores in Columbus suggested a necklace.

"Have you seen the journey necklaces?" Sandra asked. "It’s kind of s-shaped with small stones at the top graduating to larger ones at the bottom. It’s supposed to represent your journey of love…starting out on a small scale and growing through the years."

She sketched what she was describing and added, "You can find a pretty nice one for three or four hundred dollars."

The price fit my budget, and the thought suited my sentiment, but I forgot the name of the necklace. She must have mentioned "forever necklaces," too, as that was the name I took away from our conversation. When I searched the Internet for forever necklaces, most were circular, none were s-shaped.

I elected to take a few days off the week of my birthday, hoping to shop for a necklace, get my hair "fixed" in Memphis, and get some yard work done, though not necessarily in that order. Typically, I have a Friday appointment for my hair, but I had been contacted earlier by the receptionist about changing the date to Wednesday, which suited me fine.

I had paid for the services and was about to leave, after getting "the works," when Travis Johnson’s wife, Sharon popped out to say goodbye. I mentioned how the next day was my birthday and the following Monday would be my 40th wedding anniversary. Women get all excited over anniversaries and Sharon is typical.

"What are you getting Barbara for your anniversary?" she asked, all smiles and bubbling over.

I went through the story of Barbara’s request to eat out, but added that I felt I should add something extra this year. She agreed, and I mentioned the s-shaped necklace. It was then Sandy, the receptionist ,joined in the conversation.

"There’s a place in Olive Branch," she added. "It’s on Goodman Road…right beside Kroger…Master Jewelers. It’s a family owned business and their prices are reasonable.

I thanked her for the suggestion and left with both of them assuring me I should "get her something," besides an evening of fine dining.

Leaving Memphis, I backtracked to the first Olive Branch exit off Hwy. 78, largely because I knew how the get there from Poplar Ave. I wasn’t sure which of the five Olive Branch exits had Goodman Road, but I knew I’d find it beyond the first exit. After exiting onto Goodman Road, I soon saw the Kroger store, but with all the shops surrounding it and the afternoon traffic, I had trouble finding the entrance to the parking lot. While waiting for the traffic light to change, I spotted Master Jewelers among the shops south of Kroger.

My getting inside the jewelry store proved more difficult than finding it. It was not a walk-in business. The note on the door stated, ring bell, turn handle, and pull to open. I don’t know if I’m uncoordinated or what, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounded. I finally rang the bell with one hand and turned and pulled with the other hand and got inside.

One customer was already being served, but I was greeted warmly by the owner and her daughter. The daughter offered to help me. I told her I was a bit out of my element, but that I was looking for a gift suitable for a 40th wedding anniversary. That got everybody’s attention except the husband-jeweler who appeared to be busy at his jeweler’s station in the back. In the next half-hour, I was shown several diamond necklaces including the journey style and the forever style.

After being told the prices of several mid-sized necklaces, I concluded any necklace in the 300-400 dollar range would not sufficiently express my sentiments for the occasion. I’d rather not reveal what I paid for the necklace I finally chose, but I can state it was less than the cost of a vacation to Hawaii. The journey necklace I picked out wasn’t s-shaped; it was heart-shaped. The combined weight of the diamonds was .47 carat, making it large enough to be seen without appearing too extravagant.

"If she’s not satisfied with this one, you can bring it back, and we’ll swap it with a different one," the owner offered when I made my decision.

I told her that my wife would be thrilled with anything I bought her at a jewelry store, simply because I rarely do so.

Upon leaving the jewelry store, I phoned the office of my hair stylist. When Sandy answered, I told her I had just left Masters Jewelry.

"I thought you’d want to know I took your suggestion. I bought a heart-shaped journey necklace. I feel like my wife will want to hug your neck, the next time she sees you," I shared.

"I’m sure she’ll appreciate the necklace. Y’all have a happy anniversary."

To be continued…

 


Secret Formula By Ralph Jones

Wayne Carter and I have battered back and forth about molasses and syrups of one kind or another for a while. His favorite is "Golden Eagle Syrup." My taste buds lean more toward good home made sorghum molasses; however, his brand is quite good, and I have eaten my share of "Golden Eagle." We have discussed another product as well; one of which is, "Ralph’s Secret Formula." Since it is such a close family secret recipe, I have told him, "If I tell you the real formula, of course, I’ll have to kill you."

The other day while looking through the Jones’ "molasses" storehouse I came across several partially filled syrup jars, jugs and bottles, there was a quart jar with about a half inch of honey still residing in it’s bottom, most of which had long since turned to sugar. With all this talk about a "green planet," I decided to, once again, do my part. After all, using up all the leftover syrups is bound to make something green, or sticky or somehow better than before.

Taking the almost empty jar of honey I proceeded to empty the cabinet of all the containers that were less than half full of their wonderful syrup or molasses.

First came a bottle of "Brer Rabbit ‘Mild’ Syrup" and very meticulously its contents were dumped into the honey jar. Then an unnamed bottle of syrup (label missing) was turned up and left to drain in the honey jar. From the dark recesses of the cabinet a small partial filled jar of "Grandma’s Molasses" appeared. It is dark and often tastes like ‘black strap molasses,’ the kind me and Dad used to drench the cow with. But, even it was allowed to drain ever so slowly into the jar.

Children, do not try this at home! Only experts, like me, should do this and then only with proper ventilation and rubber gloves. Eye protection might be a good idea as well. By all means, keep unauthorized personnel from the area. Dogs, cats, wives, etc. are not allowed when I’m creating this fine elixir. Although, after a whiff or two, the dog usually begins to growl and then tucks tail and runs into the back yard to howl. The cat will want to climb onto the counter and then into the jar. I do not mind her company, but the hair she leaves (although it puts texture and fiber in your diet) makes the syrup hard to spread on a biscuit. Wives, on the other hand, tend to snicker a lot and give verbal advice only fitting for your worst enemy. So it’s best just to work solo.

Once all the ingredients are precisely measured, as noted above, and poured into the quart jar, one is ready to continue. With the jar, now about three fourths full, you proceed to the ‘cooking process.’

Fill a larger pan with water, sit the jar of syrup in the water, heat an eye on the stove, and then slowly let the mixture warm. Periodically, test the temperature to make sure no scorching is being produced by the heating process. Or, do like this expert does, set the original sticky jar in the microwave, turn ‘er up to high and set the timer for two or three minutes and let it nuke for a spell.

From this last experience, let me tell you for a fact, that two minutes of nukin’ time is plenty. Under no circumstances attempt this with a plastic container. Because, the molasses and plastic become as one at any setting over two minutes. This mixture of molasses and plastic begins to ooze itself into every crack and cranny of this wonderfully swift and efficient heating machine.

But I digress. Remove the jar from the microwave. Proceed to bathroom to doctor the burnt fingers on the hand that removed the jar, ‘cause it is blistering hot.

This expert did watch and not let the frothing overrun the jar, the results seem excellent. While bandaging the fingers from the ‘jar removal phase’ of the event, allow the mixture to cool. With a long handled wooden spoon stir the mixture to mingle the gracious goodness together into one gooey tastefulness.

Boy howdy, this looks like a really good batch. With fingers still smarting from the burn, the expert decided that it is close enough to begin the ‘testing time’ phase. Placing the spoon to his lips a faint sucking sound is heard and then an anguishing scream bounces off the walls of the laboratory, ‘er, uh, kitchen.

The scene changes to the bathroom again where the expert is trying feverishly to put a band-aid on his tongue and lip.

"Thince when did they ‘top makin’ wata poof ban-aads?" is his question.

A week passes and the expert has gotten most of the feeling back in his lip, the taste buds are working again in his mouth, and the scabs are almost gone from his fingers. His wife, still chuckling under her breath, sits several golden brown biscuits before him along with his jar of "Secret Formula." In his depraved and starved condition, the expert dives in, only to find the biscuits, fresh out of the oven and still much too hot for his mouth. Grabbing his coffee cup to cool the bite of biscuit, he remembers too late that he has left the cup in the microwave for well over two minutes and the coffee is at the boiling point.

Back to the bathroom he scurries, only this time he is prepared. There with a large roll of gauze, two large tubes of ‘Ungentine’, and a super size roll of duct tape, he proceeds to self-administer first-aid once again.

Remember children, only a real expert, not just your average ‘run of the mill’ expert, should carry out the making of "Ralph’s Secret Formula".


Bodock Beau About My Doctor

Most of us can find something laughable about the medical profession. Carl Wayne Hardeman shared the following humor:

Let Me Tell You About My Doctor

He is very good. If you tell him you want a second opinion, he will go out and come in again.

He treated one woman for yellow jaundice for three years before he realized she was Chinese.

Another time he gave a patient 6 months to live. At the end of the 6 months, the patient hadn't paid his bill, so the doctor gave him another 6 months.

While he was talking to me his nurse came in and said, "Doctor, there is a man here who thinks he is invisible."
The doctor said, "Tell him I can't see him."

Another time a man came running in the office and yelled, "Doctor, my son just swallowed a roll of film."
The doctor calmly replied, "Let's just wait and see what develops." 

One patient came in and said, "Doctor, I have a serious memory problem."
The doctor asked, "When did it start?"
The man replied, "When did what start ?"

I remember one time I told my doctor I had a ringing in my ears.
His advice: "Don't answer it."

My doctor sure has his share of nut cases.

One said to him, "Doctor, I think I'm a bell."
The doctor gave him some pills and said, "Here, take these, and if they don't work, give me a ring." 

Another guy told the doctor that he thought he was a deck of cards.
The doctor simply said, "Go sit over there. I'll deal with you later."

When I told my doctor I broke my leg in two places, he told me to stop going to those places.

But doctors can be so frustrating. You wait a month and a half for an appointment. Then he says, "I wish you had come to me sooner." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two elderly gentlemen from a retirement center were sitting on a bench under a tree when one turns to the other and says: "Slim, I'm 83 years old now and I'm just full of aches and pains. I know you're about my age. How do you feel?"

Slim says, "I feel just like a newborn baby."

"Really!? Like a newborn baby!?"

"Yep. No hair, no teeth, and I think I just wet my pants."

Home

Copyright © 2000 - 2007 RRN Online.