Funny Habits…

Today is my mother’s birthday-you’re not supposed to tell a lady’s age but she was  born in 1929, the year of the Great Depression. Her name is Betty Gene– after Dora Eugenia Holmes, my great-grandmother that suffered from melancholia and my grandmother, Betty Jo, who was one of the funniest women I’ve ever known, not to mention a formidable cook and housekeeper. Mother was a darling child- green eyes, one a shade darker than the other with light brown curly hair. She’s had a dramatic flair ever since she was entered into a ‘Shirley Temple Lookalike Contest’ and actually won 5 Shirley Temple Dresses! Mother is funny- she inherited the funny bone from both of her parents, yet I would say her humor is very much like my granddaddy’s. The truth is, we all like to laugh. This is Mother with one of her granddaughters and my beautiful and funny sister. Aren’t they darling?IMG_0660

A few years ago, for a Christmas party- we got up the program, as we like to say…That year, my husband agreed to play select tunes on his guitar and as a surprise for the guests, we planned to dress up in some sort of costumes. We  knew the leader of a local drama club who would loan us some costumes. Turns out all she had were the nun’s outfits or habits from a play she directed- ‘Sister Act’– which was widely acclaimed here in town then resulted in a special performance at the Ritz Theatre. Our long tall brunette friend Vandella, who can sing like an angel with a blue dress on- wanted to sing back up for my husband. She recruited me to join her. Vandella said we would be his backup singers called- the ‘Two Bad Habits’. We had a big laugh over that one, since his personality is like Andy Griffith-he just doesn’t look like him. IMG_0596

Unbeknownst to us, two other Bad Habits would be joining us, live and in costume. While the guests were milling around the buffet table and swinging around the punch bowl, one of the hostesses was gathering everyone up for the entertainment. They had been told to be prepared for some Chet Atkins style Christmas carols with a reading of the Christmas story at the end if someone would volunteer. Softly the guitar music began to play- ooh’s and aah’s all around…Vandella and I were hovering in the wings waiting for our dramatic  entrance. Vandella was saying- ‘You go first Camellia and I said ‘no’.  When our musical cue, ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’, started up- we walked out- to quite a good reception, I have to say. We announced ourselves as the Two Bad Habits, then rocked around the room in our nun’s habits… Vandella can carry off almost any style because of her height- I looked like one of the Von Trapp nuns…not the cute ones either. Vandella could put Patsy Cline in the shade. We did another number and right in the middle of the tune, a third Bad Habit eased out- this time it was funny ol’ Will aka Mother Superior Willa Deen– who continued rocking on with us- to bursts of laughter.

The guitarist was in full mode- barely paying attention to anything except his music; though when he heard a commotion behind him- he turned, didn’t miss a note, just raised an expressive eyebrow and nodded at the New Bad Habit, Mother Superior Willa Deen in horn rimmed glasses, singing and shaking the mistletoe in the rafters, off key. Howard, an ex of Vandella’s had been circling the eggnog bowl one time too many, though we now think he had arrived slightly imbibed, but hey it was Christmas! Howard joined the music- just about the time another Bad Habit came out dressed as a novice in all white- I looked around and it was my. Mother. !!! Looking as innocent as a jaybird.

She had her hands stuffed in the middle section of the novice outfit. Mother Willa Deen cleared his throat and said ‘Now, before we sing ‘Away in a Manger’- I’d like to introduce a new member of the Abbey, Sister Magdelena…she came to us in a time of great need.’ He turned to my elderly Mother. She bowed her head and said- ‘I’m so thankful they’ve let me in…I’m pregnant.’; she pulled her hands out of her habit and made like she was rocking an invisible baby.

Vandella and I missed more than a beat…we missed whole chords! The crowd was laughing and my Mother was beaming like one of the angels on high. Right up there with Howard, high as a kite by now, from that weak eggnog I guess.  Mother stole the show! Unforgettable…

On into the summer- we planned another, more sedate gathering… loads of people were there. We were all going to be on our best behavior. Even Vandella’s  ex-Howard,  arrived in a starched suit and tie. Over by the peach and apple fried pies, Alabama home grown figs and cheeses, tea sandwiches fit for a king-Howard sidled up to Mother. She greeted him in her own gracious manner- so sweetly, so lightly, saying ‘Now, do I know you?‘ Howard had  a bad habit of falling in love with the wrong women, and he had fallen in love with my mother at the Christmas party….he said ‘You don’t recognize me do you?’ looking crest fallen. Someone said ‘Now, Betty, you remember Howard- from the Christmas party don’t you?’ I was unaware this was transpiring- all the way in another room. I heard an outburst of laughter…Vandella came around and said ‘Your mother is a hoot! She just said, Howard, I  guess I didn’t recognize you, sober!’ Oh lordie… what would she think of next?? Mother went on to do a bit part in a commercial, she marched across a field of hay with her pocketbook.

morton tims event 1 062

We’re all thrilled she’s doing very well after hip surgery in the winter, a short bout with anemia recently, but has bounced back and says she can’t believe how good she feels! She has a habit of being cheerful and getting into some ridiculous situations too! So- to honor my beautiful and very humorous Southern Mother’s Birthday- please- share a link to a funny post you have written or a photograph you think she’d love– for Make Me Laugh Monday! I promise I’ll share them with the birthday girl!

Love y’all, Camellia

*post your links in the comment section! thanks!

Sweet Tea…

Southern LivingKeep It Sweet

Every now and then, Sweet Tea just gets to me…at a picnic earlier this summer- I drank at least three big red Dixie cups full of it- then took a big blue Dixie cup home with me- to help me cool off in the car on the way home… I had the cup swathed in a paper napkin, to catch the drips.  It’s been so hot, I rubbed my neck with the cool damp napkin- probably had sweat beads on it.  Then, I put that blue Dixie cup on my forehead and turned the air vent full blast on me to cool me off…Picnics are fun, but hard work- fanning flies, setting out pans of food, making sure a trail of ants doesn’t wind it’s way over to the Key Lime Pie or up the side of the Coconut Cake. I thought about that beautiful teething baby running a low grade fever, her daddy was in bed with vertigo and hoped they’d be alright… Anyway, about the Sweet Tea- it put me in mind of when I first learned how to make it and of another time when I learned to fully appreciate the Romance of making Sweet Tea. There have always been controversies over Southern Iced Tea making. Whether to use bagged Tea, so as not to have to strain it- or to use loose Tea Leaves so as not to have any of that lingering paper taste from tea bags; whether to use Lipton, Red Diamond or Luzianne. My grandmother preferred Luzianne, some said it was of her French Huguenot  side-saddle-horse-riding Momma– my great grandmother, Hattie LaVada Sparks.

Hattie LaVada never cast a shadow in her own kitchen; I’ve been told her husband and double first cousin, John Thomas Sparks spoiled her to death, most especially with Good Household Help; the cooks taught my Mimi how to make Biscuits light as a feather, Corn Sticks fit for the King of England, how to wring a chickens neck, then pluck, brine, steam it to perfection- then serve it with southern grown Rice speckled green with fresh Thyme, swimming in Lemon Butter; and of course the making of Sweet Tea. One of my uncles owned an Ice House- so you know we know how to ice it down. Well, you start with a Sugar Syrup. Don’t listen to anyone who ever tells you differently- Sweet Tea isn’t worth drinking if you don’t start with a Sugar Syrup. White Cane sugar, from sugar cane grown in Alabama, then refined is just the start… Make a pitcher of Tea with straight sugar and that sugar just sinks to the bottom of the pitcher and sulks.

  •  Sugar Syrup is the base, you can dress it up by adding
  • Orange Zest if you’re using Orange Pekoe,
  • Lemon Zest if you had Earl Gray- there’s a science to Sugar Syrup.
  • One cup of sugar to one cup of water, heated gently until every single grain of sugar is dissolved. Then you can doctor it up however you want to.
  • I’ve been told that the doctoring of it decided how strong you wanted it to be when it cooled off.
  • Long Island Tea probably was provoked by somebody from the South; though I have no personal first hand knowledge of this concoction.IMG_3186

There are lots of recipes for Southern Sweet Tea but if they don’t start with a sugar syrup? Find another one. I married a man who was raised on sweet tea but prefers ‘unsweet’– like some…he’s a purist. In restaurants all over the South, the waitresses ask ‘Sweet or Unsweet’? I’ll not venture to guess why this is- but I suspect it’s an influx of Yankees. I rarely make Sweet Tea just for myself- yet if I know some of my guests will want it, I make it. I will admit that there is a Fresh Mint Infused Sugar Syrup with my name on it in the refrigerator, and hopefully I’ll have some fancy ice cubes to dress it up! Now, let me tell you how I first observed the ‘Romance’ of Sweet Tea.

I was born in April of 1952, a leap year, after a hard winter. That sentence alone should speak volumes to you. We lived on a Circle in Birmingham, there were nice brick homes all around it. Right at the downward curve in the circle lived Roxanne Roberts. Her daddy was a travelling salesman, her mother looked like Doris Day. Roxanne. a blue eyed blonde looked just like she’d stepped out of a Madame Alexander Box. I had stick straight black hair with pale green eyes- Mimi said my eyes were from the French side of the family- her sister, Great Aunt Trix always peered at me and said to my momma- ‘Gene, isn’t she unusual?’ Every. Single. Time. Trix saw me. I’m getting off on a tangent…

By some quirk of fate, Roxanne liked me- I had a long ponytail, like she did, but Roxanne’s ended in a perfect curl; mine hung as straight as a horse’s tail. She had perfected a walk- sort of like a duck, which resulted in her ponytail swinging from side to side, it was remarkable. Roxanne’s  momma called my momma.  Roxanne wanted me to come over for a Tea Party. With my Tiny Tears doll in tow- which I suspect now, was the draw for Roxanne- we went out to their ‘Florida Room’– complete with louvered pebbled glass and handles that cranked the glass open… A breeze was blowing…

While we were checking out the wonders of Tiny Tears, Roxanne’s momma was in the kitchen right off the Florida Room- making a Sugar Syrup for the Tea. She was barefooted and had on red pedal pushers and a white blouse tied at the waist. She brought our Tea and Cookies out to Roxanne’s Tea Table and poured our Sweet Tea in sweet little juice glasses with a lemon slices and sprigs of mint. Roxanne said her momma always made Two Pitchers, one plain and a special one for her daddy. I had never heard of such luxury.

Mrs.Roberts was fixing his tea while we played. I heard her opening bottles and setting out some glasses, filling the pitcher with ice. She poured herself a long tall glass from Mr. Robert’s pitcher. Stirring it with a long iced teaspoon, she took a generous drink of it-humming to herself. All of the sudden, Mrs. Roberts broke out in song- ‘Summer Time…and the livin’ is easy…’  She paused profoundly, like she was thinking about the song long and hard, took another long sip leaning back- Then, whew! She dipped down and sang even louder…‘Fish! are jumpin’! and the Cotton is High!’ Swinging her head around; smacking her lips, with that perfect shade of red lipstick… My Momma never did that when she made our Iced Tea!  Mr. Roberts came home from out of town. Roxanne hung back- ‘Shh…watch!…’ Mrs. Roberts was swayin’ her hips and singin’- it was actually pretty good. She was no Ella Fitzgerald but Roxanne’s momma had the moves down pat. Mr. Roberts apparently liked it. He picked Mrs. Roberts up by her waist and swung her around and said ‘Honey, I’m just dyin’ for a glass of that sweet tea!’….

It is indelible in my memory- unforgettable.  Roxanne never asked me back for a Tea Party- I strongly suspect it was because she found out I had been impersonating Elvis from age 7 on up to about age 9.  But I sure never forgot there’s a certain Romance to making Sweet Tea.


Oh lord, y’all…what a story! It’s like every other Southern tale …part myth, part truth and part outright lies… Now don’t forget to make yourself a Sugar Syrup, one part sugar to one part water, simmered gently until every sweet grain has melted, pour into a glass pitcher, add the brewed tea and stir…‘Summer Time! And the livin’ is Easy…So hush little baby don’t you cry….’

Love y’all, Camellia

*photograph from Taste of the South and may be subject to copyright- click link at the top of the photograph- it includes recipes for Sweet Tea- don’t forget you’re looking for the ones with Sugar Syrup *photograph of Sweet Tea includes some of those fancy ice cubes I was talking about! photograph is obviously mine

A Doctor’s Excuse…

Today’s WordPress assignment on ‘Everyday Inspiration’ is to write a letter to anyone living or dead- my choice.  For several hours I suffered writer’s block- there are so many notes of all kinds that need to be written, right here from my desk- not the blogging kind, the real- handwritten-signed-sealed-stamped-taken to the post office kind! As often happens when I am stuck- something weird keeps running around in my head, if I can’t get away from it- I just go with it. What I need for today’s assignment is a doctor’s excuse! Then I remembered Winston Churchill’s Doctor’s Excuse- in Prohibition America circa 1932. He had been hit by a car near 5th Avenue in New York City- ‘very near squashed like a gooseberry’ as he put it.  He was taken to the hospital and bitterly complained that he needed ‘chloroform or something’… the something resulted in this note, which he carried with him… You have to love a guy who always gets what he wants…by whatever means necessary…

churchill alcohol letter


I don’t need the same Doctor’s Excuse Mr. Churchill apparently wanted- however I sure could use a good letter for my assignment today!



If you would like to read more about Winston Churchill’s Doctor’s Excuse-

Go to – Open Culture  – one of my favorite sites!

I hope you get a good laugh or at least learn a little something fun! Then look at the edit below!

Love y’all, Camellia

PS- just so the Happiness Engineers won’t get upset with me- here’s my letter to all of you millions of bloggers out there- who suffer occasionally from writer’s block like I did today (my excuse is that I have cucumbers running out my ears that need to be pickled or something- and a young lady and her truck drivin’ man wanted my husband to perform a marriage ceremony for them in our living room today- but the trucker got called in on a long haul trucking job so they’re going to have to wait a few days or weeks to get married!( We have folks stopping by to get married from time to time since my husband retired) Anyway, here’s your ‘Excuse’ Letter should you find yourself in need:

‘Camellia’s Cottage Writer’s Block Clinic’ 

‘Dear Readers, Due to a severe case of Writer’s Block- (insert your name) needs an occasional jolt of real life, away from the desk and laptop. Naturally the amount of time is unspecified, however the minimum requirement will be 1-2 days of rest, rehabilitation and reading.  However, (insert your name) should be restored to normal duties very soon. Your understanding and patience is greatly appreciated.

Signed: Camellia,

Director of Writer’s Block Clinic.

Grocery Shopping after Vacation…

imageWhen I get back from vacation, I start the ‘wash’ and then go to the grocery store. As you know, strange things happen at my grocery store. Other people tell me they go without incident, except one friend who was asked on a date not once but twice in the cheese department! She’s a lady of a certain age as I am- so that was remarkable. I have not experienced that yet, however- today’s trip was interesting as usual. Since there was barely anyone in the store, I was sure this would be one of those rare, unremarkable trips.

I was trying to pick out some bananas when someone came up behind me and said- ‘I bought bananas last time and they were tasteless.’ I smiled and said ‘Well you know, we have to have our bananas- for cereal or maybe a banana pudding.’ ‘If you’re talking banana pudding, they might work, but the Granny Smith apples have more taste.  I pushed off thinking how tasteless it was to make comments over what I was buying! I got over to the floral department- nice lady there. ‘How are you?’ Oh fine, how are you? ‘I’m burning up!’ Really? it feels pretty cool in here to me. ‘Well, trying to work under these heat lamps is about to put me under the cooler!’ Honey, I’m sorry…have you told management?

And by the way, while you’re at it can you tell them they are out of Diet Rites? I have to get those because I’m allergic to aspartame and they don’t have any Diet Rites. ‘Allergic to aspertame?’ Yes. A guy from another cola company who was stocking- said, ‘Diet Rites don’t have aspartame? I’m allergic to it too.’ The flustered floral department lady said ‘What happens to y’all?’ Cola man said, ‘It makes my lips go numb.’ I am astounded. ‘It just causes some tingling and numbness but I’ve never had my lips go numb.’ He swore it did. Well, who am I to judge?  ‘ I used to drink these’ and pointed to an offender. He said, ‘I’ll tell you what happened to the mother of a friend of mine. She loved those, she opened a can and something hit her lips and it was a tiny mouse!’ What?!?!? ‘Yep, they wanted to settle out of court for millions- but she told ’em she’d take 2 million and a case of those colas per month for the rest of her life!’ I shook my head and thought how brave that woman was, to put her life on the line every single time she popped a can. I shoved off thinking that was my ‘incident’ of the day…no, wrong.

The floral department lady called out to me, ‘Camellia?’- ‘Yes?’ ‘Did you know that Granny Smith died?’ ‘I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about but I sure am sorry to hear it.’ ‘Well she lives over on Shanghai Road and worked as an OB/GYN nurse for …oh a long time.’ Really?  ‘Yes, there will be a mob tonight at the funeral home, she had 47 great grandchildren.’ Now, how old was this delivery room nurse?  ‘She was 94, had a good long life.’ Yes, she did. ‘And a memory like a top until the last few years, knew the names of every single one of those great grandchildren.’ Now, isn’t that something? But she wasn’t through, told me who was related by marriage to the Nurse…my ankles were twitching thinking about those tiny mice floating around in those diet colas.

She had more to relate and had  obviously recovered from the heat lamps. She started telling me about another lady who was on her deathbed. ‘Yes, two days ago,  called the family in and told them she had about 24 hours to live.’ Her daughters were horrified because for one thing- this lady is one of the best cooks in the county and they just knew she was taking her recipe for pound cake, egg custard pie and coconut cake to her grave, among other things. She never wrote anything down or if she did, there was always a critical ingredient missing. ‘But she’s lingering on, not dead yet…and the food! oh my when word got out that she was dying- offers to make devilled eggs, fresh green beans, squash casserole- the Sunday School class was providing the ham- estimates of how many to feed went out and paper products, cutlery, cups, sweet tea, coffee- then, giggles and exclamations from the floral department about the baker on her deathbed- ‘Maybe the offers of food at her wake had kept her hanging on.’ I wondered myself if the baker was waiting to hear if someone would dare bring a custard pie or a coconut cake to rival hers. ‘The phone lines are hot with arrangements- she was still hanging on but it wouldn’t be long…she’d been ready to ‘go’ ever since her husband had up and died 8 years before. Was never the same. Baked a dozen cakes and two dozen pies the night her husband died-for his wake. It seemed to calm her nerves.’ In the South, when someone dies, we can put on a funeral, is all I can say.

I thought-I’m not encouraging this…’Well which funeral home has Granny Smith?’ She sucked in her breath…and told me the arrangements, told me again that there would have to be enough food there to feed an army what with 47 great grandchildren. I thought about offering up my bananas but why send something so tasteless? ‘Well listen darling, if we can make it over there we sure will.’ I. escaped. Surely this would be it for this trip. Not so, as I rounded the corner the butcher was waiting with his cellphone open…

image

His daughter is married to a distant cousin. I thought he had new pictures of his 4 year old grandson, who apparently got the call to preach last year on the Fourth of July. Battling heat, mosquitos and swatting flies- a crowd gathered on the bleachers, waiting for the fireworks. This little dark haired tyke, marched to the front of the bleachers and called out as loud as he could- ‘Can I get an amen? Hallelujah! Thank y’all for coming out tonight!’  He sang, he waved his little arms, he hollered out amen and amen…he ran the rails, he called down fire. And what do you know? Fireworks started popping and fizzling- the sky lit up. Yes, he definitely had the gift. Got it from our side of the family no doubt. But this was not to be the story from the open cellphone…that’s next week…the Fourth of July.

Oh no, the butcher wanted to show me a picture of a buggy load of some of the finest steaks in the store! Someone had tried to leave the store with that buggy load the night before- ‘Well, I’ll be.’ ‘You think that’s somethin’? They did manage to get a buggy full of King Crab legs out of here- just watched it on tape.’ Will wonders never cease.

Surely this was it…I managed to get over to the dairy aisle. I felt the shadow of a man come over my shoulder.- I was thinking- surely it’s not the creepy man who asks women out on dates by the cheese. It wasn’t. He was very tall, so skinny he probably had to stand sideways in the shower. ‘Hey, Ms. Camellia, did ya hear ’bout Granny Smith?’ Yes. I. did. ‘Slipped on a throw rug, broke her nose, black eyes and everything- said some of those great grandkids were underfoot.’ Well, that’s awful. ‘Did ya hear my momma died?’ No, I didn’t. I am so sorry. How did she die? ‘I’ll tell ya what got ‘er. Cigarettes, Lard and Beer.’ I could not think of one thing to say, except – Cigarettes. Lard and Beer? How old was she? Soulfully, the thin man said ‘She was just 92.’ I cleared my throat, straightened up and said-‘Well, I hate to hear it.’ I saw a friend as I was leaving the store- I told him not to buy cigarettes, lard or beer, that he won’t live past 92. He said- ‘I tell you what Camellia, if you’ll add Gin to that diet I’m goin’ on it.’ Me? I’m switching to water. You cannot make this stuff up. image


I missed everybody when I was on vacation- cannot wait to share some of it with you! Just had to have some fun and share the continuing grocery store saga with you! Until next time-

Love y’all, Camellia

Hydrangeas!

I have an ongoing conversation with my garden. Nature speaks to me in a strange language- I see dressmaker details in flowers- I see faces in wisened old trees, I see fabrics- sheer, satin, velvet or nubby. When a stem or branch bends or twists, I see embroidery or applique.  I see elves and nymphs hiding beneath tree roots; butterflies and hummingbirds are flowers in flight-busy bees remind me of happy cooks and homemakers. Let me say it this way…I try to use words to describe things when there are no photographs; for instance-if you couldn’t see these beautiful hydrangeas– how would I describe them to you?

  • Blue Eyelet Bloomers?
  •                  Blue Flowered Bubbles?
  •                               Big Blue Pom Poms on a Green Chenille Bedspread?
  •                   Blue Clouds over an Ocean of Green?
  •  Blue Lace Lollipops on Pale Green Sticks?    or Pink Cotton Candy? or-
  •                         Orbs overlaid with blue crochet?

Hydrangeas bring on summer with the pomp and circumstance of a parade- and stay around until autumn like pale parchments as if they hate to see the season go…

They are not fickle- though they do tend to surprise me…changing in spring from pale green to blue then brighter blue or decide that they might like to wear lilac instead…

Before new hybrids- old timers would say to ‘sweeten’ them up- with lime…to get pink blooms. Just look at this pink hybrid! Reliable bright cotton candy pink blooms shamelessly flamboyant in a friend’s garden!image

And in the last few years, I’ve become enamored of these sweet lace cap hydrangeas!

A bevy of beauty whether in a bouquet or peeping through a fence- I have to admit I love hydrangeas!

I’m greedy, I always want more! So, as much as I enjoy describing hydrangeas with words-I have to share more- hoping you love them too!

Cultivating Hydrangeas is easy – great companion plants in a slightly damp, shady or dappled shade environments, under-planted with spring bulbs, hostas and Ferns…Try it!

Thanks for stopping by Camellia’s Cottage…remember if you sign up we will never ask-

  • Your age or your shoe size, we will never ask where you were when you got those chigger bites-
  • we will never share your whereabouts though you might need to let your momma know occasionally…

If you follow our blog…

  • We won’t ask if your weight on your driver’s license is the same as on your home scale.
  • We won’t ask what you were eating or how much when you got that grease stain – or
  • Why you didn’t put down a quilt when you got that grass stain!

We will never ask when you started dyeing your hair, why you cut your own bangs –

  • We will gently let you know that your dress is hiked up-
  • We won’t mention that the buttons seem to be pulling since you gained so much weight…

We like you just the way you are! Stop by anytime day or night.  We’ll leave the light on!

Love y’all, Camellia

Thank you to a fellow lover of hydrangeas and friend -Alyson, for the beautiful photos of your pink hydrangeas and the bouquet! Think you want to grow hydrangeas? Here are few resources from Amazon.com-

Hydrangeas!                 Hydrangeas