Peenie Curfew

Well...The Nightwatchman was on alert again this weekend. Except this time, it was Peenie who put him on active duty--not the garage door or the lights. Sorry, Uncle Toddie! We should really get you a badge!

Missed "Peenie Curfew" again (cause that's what I'm going to start calling it) on Saturday night. James and I did a sunset hike at Crowder's Mountain (highly recommend) and dinner at Dish in Charlotte's Midtown area (also highly recommend) and coffee at Amelie's (again, highly recommend--James always bats 1000% in the planning category) and I didn't get back to Greenville until really late. Or, in other words, at a "non-Peanut approved" hour.

Whoops?

You see, when you're 25 and you've lived on your own for a few years, you kind of forget about the whole idea of a curfew (what's that, again?). So when the thought of "Peenie Curfew" DID occur to me in the wee-small hours of the morning, it was one of those Catch-22 moments. I was damned if I did, damned if I didn't. Like, "Hmmmm...should I call Peanut and tell her I'm going to be late, possibly waking her up out of a dead sleep and freaking her out? Or...should I NOT call Peanut and risk her waking up out of a dead sleep, seeing that I'm not there and, in turn, freaking out?" Yep. Lose, lose.

Well friends, I went for a third option--the optimistic option of hoping that maybe, just MAYBE, the Peanut wouldn't wake up, and all would be well in the world. 

Yea...didn't happen. Option two was what happened. Peanut woke up, saw I wasn't there, freaked out, and called The Nightwatchman. Poor Uncle T. She woke him up out of a dead sleep and asked him if the POLICE should be called to come out looking for me! Thankfully, he said no. Told the little nut to go back to bed, that I should be home soon, and if I wasn't home by daylight, then MAYBE a missing persons report should be filed.

Thanks for being the voice of reason, Uncle T!

Sure enough, I was back before dawn. Went to bed, and when I got up for breakfast, I got a tongue-lashing from the Peanut. I took it, gave her a hug, told her I was sorry, and hoped that was the end of it.

...it wasn't. If there's an Edwards woman trait other than being a "mouth of the South", it's knowing how to lay on the guilt. Peanut and mom, in particular, lay it on as thick as peanut butter. In fact, that's what I'm going to start calling Peenie's guilt trips: Peanut Butter. See what I did, there? Ha! Forgive me, I (cornily) digress...

But, yea. Even though I just threw mom under the bus in the guilt department, I'm going to champion her as my hero yesterday. Peanut told her the events of the evening before, and mom said, "Mother, Katy's 25. When I was 25, I was in New York and you had no clue as to my whereabouts. So leave it alone. She's not 16, she's an adult, she can make her own decisions, and you don't need to worry."

Thanks, mom! You rock!

So now, all is well in the world. Peanut, myself, and The Nightwatchman all got a full night's sleep last night, and I haven't had any helpings of Peanut Butter since yesterday!

I'll leave you with this:

On Sundays, Peanut and I have gotten in the habit of walking the bridge at Falls Park and eating lunch at Coffee Underground. She says she likes to go "where the young people are". 

What Not to Wear

NEWSFLASH! Peenie has found a new TV show: What Not to Wear. And it's a good thing too, friends! Cause I was getting plumb sick of watching the O'Reilly Factor every night. Really, just FOX News in general. Question: is every female anchor over there a blonde, now? Sure seems like it. Gotta be something in the kool-aid. Anyway, I'm happy with the switch in mine and Peenie's nightly programming. Mom and I used to watch What Not to Wear together, and now it's something I can share with Peanut, too! I've always thought of Stacy and Clinton as kindred spirits, and now Peanut does, too! Yep, it's pretty much her new favorite thing. Except she likes for me to fast-forward to the "fun" part--the final quarter of the show when the makeover candidate reveals their "new look".

It's okay, Peanut. I get you. The "fun" part is my favorite part, too.

So a few nights a week, we've gotten into the habit of selecting a new episode of the show on demand, brewing some herbal tea, and critiquing the outfits, haircuts and makeup while we giggle at Stacy and Clinton's shenanigans. Peanut wants to go on the show! But I told her she is much too fashionable to be a candidate for a makeover. However, she could definitely be a television personality. Heck, she's already got her own blog!

I'll leave you with this:

I've been going through kitty withdrawals. I am a cat-lover, and really miss my Jamie-Cat (died almost a year ago) and Gus Gus, my roommate Christie's cat, from back home. They're such comforting little creatures and so darn cute! Anyway, when I got home last night there was a little cat in the driveway. She was very friendly and ran right up to me! Nuzzled my legs, let me rub her tummy--even let me hold her! Her collar said her name was Tulip. We bonded. So here's a picture of my neighbor and new friend, Tulip:

 

Oh Say, Can You See?

The telephones in Peanut's house play The Star-Spangled Banner and ring at the same time.

Yea. It's the strangest. 

And not exactly the first thing you want to hear when you're trying to pry yourself out of bed in the morning. Cause who wants to sing, "Oh say, can you see..." when it's too early to, in fact...see? Yea, no offense Francis Scott Key, but waking up to your old national tune makes me want to rip my ears off. Don't get me wrong, it is a fine piece of music and an honored American tradition. For sporting events? Perfect. Presidential inaugurations? Absolutely necessary. 6 am at Peenie's house? Makes me want to spit nails. And I can't change it to another tone, because the little nut won't be able to hear it.
So I'm coming for you, Mr. Key. Ready yourself. 

But then again...maybe I should cut Mr. Key some slack. I should really be going after the phone company that made that particular ringtone an option, right? Right.

So obviously, the phone is kinda making me crazy, friends. But I'm also becoming a little schizophrenic about it. Cause even though that ringtone is annoying as HELL, er...I mean, HECK, I get a little upset when Peanut picks it up and it stops mid-verse. Yea, I don't know if it's my musical background or if I'm just crazy, but THE SONG MUST BE FINISHED! It’s like, “O’ER THE LAND OF THE FREE, AND THE HOME OF THE…Hello? Edward's residence.” So disappointing. So I’ve started just belting out whatever is left, “BRAVE!”. Peenie has no idea what I’m doing. She just looks at me like I’m weird and gives me a little half-smile.

Oh, and the funniest part of all? How about this conversation:
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Me: Peenie, why do your phones play The Star-Spangled Banner?

Peenie: What?

Me: WHY do your PHONES play the STAR-SPANGLED-BANNER?

Peenie: Katy, I don't know what you're talking about!
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…if that’s not proof she needs a hearing-aid, I don’t know what is.

I’ll leave you with this:

Peanut’s sweet tooth has reached an all-time high. Last night, I was baking Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins for an AmeriCorps meeting. I always make extra, and some of them were cooling on top of the stove. I left the kitchen for a moment, and when I came back, two were missing and Peanut was grinning and chewing. “Goooooood!”, she said.

What the Heck?!

Peanut and I are beginning to rub off on each other. She's using my phrases, and my nose is beginning to run.

When something shocks me, like many other human beings I usually say, "What the hell?!". However, since I am now living with my grandmother, I've had to edit some of my usual phrases so she'll like me and keep me in the will. Just kidding. I edit because I LOVE her, and I don't want to upset her! Therefore, "What the hell?!" has now become, "What the heck?!", and Peanut used it last night.

After dinner, we were sitting in the living room. Peanut was going through her mail and applying some more Orange Flip, and I, being a total unashamed product of my generation, was texting, checking emails, changing my profile picture on Facebook to a less summery option because FALL IS NOW HERE (yes, my profile pics change with the seasons...deal with it), and scouring the new Real Simple for autumnal recipes. Side note: the new issue has a kitty posing with a pumpkin on the cover! Oh. My. Gosh. Couldn't resist the cuteness! Anyway...I digress. Peanut looked up at me from her compact mirror (it has a Perry for President sticker on the back of it, friends) and said, "Call Momma?". So I picked up my phone and dialed my mom. It was around 7:15. She was probably either cooking or eating, so she didn't answer. I ended the call and told Peanut that she didn't pick up, to which the little nut exclaimed, "What the heck?!"

I about died.

So here's my "What the heck?!" moment. Since I can remember, Peenie has been Queen of the Tissue Box. Her nose is always running. Not in a "ew-gross-she-really-needs-to-wipe-her-face" kind of way, but in a "it-seems-like-she-always-has-the-sniffles" kind of way. Her purse is forever filled to the brim with Kleenex, as are her pockets, and she leaves a little trail of white crumpled tissue balls wherever she goes. Well, friends, since I'm rubbing off on her, I guess she's now rubbing off on me. We've just passed the five week mark, and my nose is running just as much as hers. So, between the two of us, I'm about ready to go buy a teacher's supply worth of Kleenex. Sniffle, sniffle. WHY is this happening? Sniffle, sniffle. It's not even cold outside yet! What. The. HELL?! I mean...heck.

Please don't tell Peanut I said hell.

I'll leave you with this:

A picture of Peanut in her typical "going out" outfit, complete with leopard jacket and all the trimmings!

Happy Dance!

Mom left Greenville yesterday morning after I had gone to work. On mornings where we're both at the house, we try to leave in shifts so Peanut doesn't get too sad. I left for work around 8:15, so mom left for Greensboro around 10, giving the little nut adequate time to adjust to our absence. However, 15 minutes down the road, mom realized that she had *dun dun dun* left her cell phone! (Gasp, eeeeghad, woe is me, etc.) No, but in all seriousness, this is VERY serious. Mega dire straights. Because unlike leaving your cell at a restaurant or a friend's house where you can just walk back in and claim it, Peanut's house is different. Why, you ask? Because, as I have told you, she CANNOT hear. So here mom is, driving back to the house, PRAYING that when she gets there, she can get back inside. As she relayed this information to me last night, she said, "Katy, I prayed that The Lord would help Peenie hear me trying to get in." Well friends, He did!

Peanut was UPSTAIRS which is the worst possible place in the entire house for her to hear the doorbell, phone, or much less, someone knocking. But guess what? The little nut heard something. She thought she was going crazy, but says The Lord spoke to her and told her that mom was downstairs. So she went downstairs, opened the door, and they both did a little happy dance. Mom, because Peanut heard her and answered the door. And Peanut, because she thought mom was back again! Wish I had been there to take a video, durn it.

I'll leave you with this:

Last night, Peanut and I had leftover chili for dinner! A lot of you have emailed me for the recipe, so I'm going to share it here! Mom and I give full credit of its yumminess to my aunt, Amy Chamblee. Fun fact: it has Hershey's Cocoa in it, which really adds to the richness of flavor! Enjoy! It's sure to make you do a happy dance!

Aunt Amy's Hearty Chili:

3-4 lbs. of good quality stew meat extra lean, cut into bite size chunks

3 lbs. Neese's Country Style sausage

2 lg. onions

4 cloves garlic, minced

4 T. olive oil

2 "big" cans of diced tomatoes 

1 can tomato sauce

6 T chili powder 

3 T cumin 

2 T oregano 

1 can pinto beans, drained 

1 lb. can baked beans, drained

2 cans kidney beans, drained 

2 t. salt

2 T sugar 

1 T cocoa 

1 can diced chilies 

Saute onion and garlic in olive oil. Brown meat and sausage. Drain well. Add tomatoes with liquid. Add tomato sauce, chili powder, cumin, oregano, baked beans, salt, sugar and cocoa. Simmer 2 hrs, stirring often. It will have a tendency to burn. Add kidney beans and chilies. Cook another 1/2 hr longer.  Serve with grated sharp cheddar cheese and sour cream. Diced spring onions are also a nice addition.

Also, kudos to mom for taking the time to type it up!

The Nightwatchman and the Mouths of the South

Hello, friends!

It was a busy weekend of visitors at the house! Mom arrived early Saturday afternoon (just in time for lunch at Word of Mouth), and James, my boyfriend, got in around 5. Though I gave him the option of meeting up downtown, he bravely agreed to say hello to mom and Peenie. Yes, I think he might deserve a medal for being willing to subject himself to (though it was brief) meeting the “mouths of the South” (as my brothers and dad call them) at the same time—a situation that many-a-man would run from. But he handled it like a champ, and Peenie later said (and mom agreed) that she liked him and that he had “nice teeth”, which believe me, is the highest compliment you can get from an Edwards!

Peanut was “all jacked up” on Saturday morning to see mom (not much else gets her as excited), and she squealed with glee when she heard the garage door open. Soon after, mom came upstairs to greet us. She was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a scarf. This is what went down:

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Peenie (Looking at mom’s jeans): SUE! Those dudes are TIGHT! How’d you get those on?!

Mom: They’re skinny jeans, mom. They’re like leggings…a little stretchy cause they have some lycra in them. They’re comfortable!

Peenie: Skinny jeans? YOU’RE skinny! Sue, you wouldn’t last five minutes in a blizzard! Men want some meat! Not some little weasel that’s just falling out!

Mom (sarcastically): Thanks, mom. I’ll try to remember that.

---

 

…and now you understand why they’re called the “mouths of the South”.

After a few minutes of catching up with mom, we headed to Word of Mouth for lunch and then to The Fresh Market to purchase ingredients for my Aunt Amy’s chili and for my very own Quiche Lorraine—our two culinary goals for the weekend. As you know, Peanut fights me on my kitchen use, but when mom comes to town it’s two against one, so we knock out as much cooking as possible. By the way, both of these recipes are DELICIOUS (if I do say so myself), so let me know if any of you would like to have them! Anyway, once we got back home, mom and I started on the chili while Peanut stared out the window and bemoaned the torrential downpour that was going on outside. (We were just glad that there was something to distract her from our kitchen usage.) The little nut HATES storms, friends. Hates ‘em. She says that when she was growing up on the farm in Kentucky, she watched barns and houses “burn to the ground” after storms came through. So to this day, she becomes really fearful when the weather is  a-ragin’. So as we cooked, we tried to calm her down with family memories until she changed the subject to my outfit choice for the day, and told me to “go put on some heels and a cute skirt”. I refused, politely. A response which prompted her to try and “sway” me for the next 30 minutes, which proved as good as a distraction as any, so I just let her do it!

By the time James came to pick me up at 5, the chili was finished, and Peanut and mom were ready for a cozy night at the house. We said our goodbyes and headed downtown for the evening, and mom says that she and Peenie went to bed around 9.

This is where the story gets pretty funny, friends.

James and I stayed out pretty late (if you’ve ever seen downtown Greenville, you’d understand why—it’s GORGEOUS), and it was after 1 when he dropped me off at the house. It was dark outside, of course, and we knew that mom and Peanut were sleeping, so we very quietly opened the garage door and turned the basement lights on so we could say goodnight to each other. All of the sudden, my cell phone started ringing, and both of us froze. We were being quiet as mice! Had we woken up the Peanut?!

Nope. It was my Uncle (and backdoor neighbor) Tom (aka: the nightwatchman).

---

Me (whispering and confused): Hello…?

Tom: Katy? It’s Toddie. Hope I didn’t wake you. But the garage door is open and the basement lights are on!

Me: That’s ok, you didn’t wake me! Um…I know. I’m actually IN the basement right now. My boyfriend’s dropping me off. He was…uh, just leaving.

Tom (chuckling): Oh…well, that’s awkward! Sorry! Ha! Goodnight!

---

…busted by the nightwatchman. To make matters funnier, he had called mom before he called me, which woke BOTH Peenie and her out of a dead sleep. So the moral of this story is, even if you’re trying to be as quiet as a field mouse, if you’re living with family, you still might wake up the entire block!

Yesterday morning we made a big breakfast--Toddie brought us his homemade blueberry waffles and as we ate, he and the “two mouths” giggled and teased me about the “garage incident”. He headed back across the yard, and us gals talked and drank coffee till Peenie said our “eyeballs were gonna pop out” if we drank any more. We decided to clean up and take a long walk at Falls Park.

We got our “exercise clothes” on (for Peenie, this constitutes a cashmere cardigan, full make-up, jewelry, support hose, a khaki skort, her tennis shoes, handbag, and of course Orange Flip) and headed downtown. Here’s a picture of the gloriousness that is Falls Park:

The little nut did GREAT walking the bridge and it’s surrounds. Mom and I were so proud of her! We lunched at Coffee Underground, took a tour of Anthropologie where Peenie bought some plaid tights (SO CUTE), and then took her home to get on her jammies. Mom and I then went on a KILLER walk/run. When we came back, Peanut squalled at us for “being gone too long”, but I made Quiche Lorraine for dinner (YUM), and she got happy again real quick. Ate TWO pieces and a cookie! Go, Peanut, go!

All of us went to bed early after a weekend full of food, laughter, and good memories!

I’ll leave you with this:

When we were at Coffee Underground, I asked mom and Peanut to pose for a picture together. But I couldn’t get the little nut to look at the camera! When I asked her to look at me, she said, “Sometimes I don’t like to look at the camera. Kinda scary. So I do a side thing.”

Here she is, doing her “side thing”:
 

 

The House that Paw Built

This is the house that Paw built:

I can’t talk about Peenie for much longer without talking about Paw. I haven’t written about him in these past five entries because…well, it’s hard to. He hasn’t been gone very long, and Peenie and I sometimes forget. We forget because it feels like he’s still with us--there are pieces of his life strewn all about the house. The clothes and shoes in his closet. Shaving cream in the bathroom. His desk. The bench in the backyard where he used to sit and look out over his land. His old tractor. All of his pear and fig trees.

Last night I was in the basement putting on my tennis shoes before my run. As I tied them, I sat at the red picnic table where he read the paper every day. Suddenly conscious of where I was, I paused and began to look around. I saw cans of pear and fig preserves from last year. Old tools. His hats. Some of his shirts still hanging near the wash. But, even further than all of that…the walls, the floors, the design of the house, the brick that he selected…we live in a house that Paw built. It’s like even though he’s gone, he’s still shielding us from the storms.

Paw passed away in July, due to complications from a stroke. Thankfully, the stroke occurred at home on a Sunday morning. He and Peenie had just eaten breakfast together. He was not on his tractor, he was not in his car, he was not out in the yard where she couldn’t get to him. She was right at his side. And they spent his last fully conscious moments together--husband and wife of 69 years. For this, I and my family are so incredibly grateful.

I wish all of you could know what an incredible man my Paw was, but I don’t think I’ll ever have the words to perfectly describe the man I knew. The closest I’ve come to capturing his essence is a poem I wrote for his funeral:

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A Paw is a wonderful thing.

He is the load-bearer of our animal called family. And with worn, weathered, heart-shaped pads he cushions our steps.

He is our forepaw, the member in front. He goes before us; the first to feel pain or pleasure. He knows what is good and what is not. And so he teaches us to tread on Firm Foundations and Solid Rock, and to avoid the sinking sand.

He is our provider and protector. From him come sharp and fierce claws of purpose. Claws which are forever in use for our survival, our honor, and for the glory of our Creator.

He is our comforter, the one who envelops our troubles with his warm mit of wisdom. With soothing touch, he quiets our minds and points us to the Truth.

He is our feeder. He supplies us with the eternal meat of the Scriptures and encourages us to hunt the knowledge of them so that we may never go hungry.

He is our Paw. He bears the load, teaches us, provides for us, protects us, comforts us, advises us, and feeds us. Our Paw. And he goes before us still. Even now, he has touched down on golden streets where, in just a few short moments, we will join him again.

There, in the place where there are no heavy loads, no pain, no sinking sand, no need for protection, no troubles, and no hunger, we'll be together again in the company of the Greatest of all Paws, the Creator of Paws--the One who blessed us with our Paw. And there, our steps will be cushioned forever.

A Paw is a wonderful thing.

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I’ll leave you with this, my all-time favorite photo of Peenie and Paw.

Needs no caption.