Bay Lee’s Polka Dots

Underneath her left wing are white polka dots on gray feathers. It took a while, but I finally saved up enough of them to make a design. The other feathers are ones found underneath her tail, which indicate that she is a female. Apparently, these barred feathers aren’t on male cockatiels. It is always difficult to take photos through glass, so there is some reflection in the design. 

                                                  Steamed Fish with Ratatouille

I found this recipe in a health magazine. Although there are specific amounts in the recipe, I can never seem to follow the exact measurements. I usually read recipes for ideas, and then go off on my own. So this is what I came up with:

The Chopping Part: It’s best to do all this before starting to cook. Chop enough vegetables according to how many people you plan to serve.

Zucchini and Eggplant: chop into small cubes.
Red Bell Pepper: slice thinly
Vine Ripe Tomatoes: chopped
Garlic
Purple Onion
Kalamata Olives
Fresh Thyme
Fresh Basil
Salt and Pepper

Cook (in a large flat pan with EVO) the garlic, onions, and red bell pepper first. Then add the zucchini and eggplant. After that, add the tomatoes, thyme, and kalamata olives. When the mixture has cooked for a while, lay whatever fish fillets you choose on top of the vegetables. The original recipe called for cod, but I find that fish too bland. Red Snapper or even salmon would be good. Cover the pan and reduce the heat so that the fish will slowly steam. When the fish is done, remove it from the pan and add the chopped basil to the vegetables right before serving.

California Basmati Brown Rice goes well with this dish. 
The fresh thyme and basil really make a difference! 

The other day, I was standing at my kitchen window, placidly viewing all the birds that were at my feeders in the side yard. It was a beautiful scene, with at least a dozen Cardinals, lots of White Crowned Sparrows, and Gold Finches. I was thinking how lucky I was to have so many birds in the yard, when this blur passed right in front of the window, swept down, and nailed one of the little cheeps in the yard. There was a poof of feathers, and then it was gone. It happened so fast, all I could do was gape in shock. The rest of the birds fled in a panic, leaving the bird feeders empty and still. I sputtered and stepped back, trying to comprehend what had just happened. My peaceful scene was instantly traded for one of murder and mayhem, and I was the only witness. It must have been a hawk that came down, but the bird I saw seemed too small to be one. I have lots of trees in the yard and it isn’t a good place for most hawks to hunt. So I consulted my bird book and found that there is indeed a hawk that preys on backyard birds. He’s known as the Sharp Shinned Hawk and is specifically designed to navigate in heavily wooded areas. Small and compact, he strikes with no warning. The little victim never knew what hit him. Ten minutes later, all the little cheep cheeps came back and business was again as usual at the feeders.

When my husband came home, I told him about the incident, and he told me that he had heard about the same thing happening to another woman who wrote about it on NPR Radio. It was featured on the program, All Things Considered, back on January 25, 2008. The title of the essay was, “A Restaurant for the Birds Welcomes All.” She says in the article; “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t serve meat here.”  “That’s all right,” he grunts. “I’ll get it myself.”

After reading the piece, I decided that the hawk had just as much right to share my yard and I reminded myself that it was all part of nature’s plan. Even with all its gruesomeness. 

Last year, a pair of larger hawks built a nest and raised their babies in a yard I pass each day when I walk.  One morning, there was a guy in the yard who shot a squirrel. Out of nowhere, one of the hawks swooped down and flew off with the squirrel, back to the nest. It seems that this guy was helping the hawks raise their young. They waited for him each day to appear. Now how about that collaboration! Oh yes, they’re back again this year. 

                                      

My father showed up in New York in January 1936. He was 21 years of age, fresh out of Mississippi, and all he had on was a light summer suit, no coat, and little money or luggage. My Uncle Clyde said that when he saw my father, he was just about frozen. But Clyde took him in and got him a job with the same shipping company he worked for, the Moore-McCormack Lines. My father was the fourth brother to join the company, following my Uncle Eustice, Uncle Clyde, and Uncle Albert. He started at the very bottom and worked his way up over the years until he was a Chief Engineer, the same as his brothers. As best as I can remember, my father sailed three of the Mormac cargo ships: the MormacMoon, the MormacSaga, and the MormacBay. I remember seeing the Moon in dock, after he had moved to the Saga. It looked old and kind of sad, flying a Panamanian flag, after being sold off. 

                                          SS MormacBay's Maiden Voyage out of New York

                                                        Father at his Desk, On Board


Over the years, many stories were told about going to sea. My Uncle Clyde had a ship break in half, and was lucky to limp into port. At the start of WW II, my father found himself in the north Atlantic, far from home, and trying to burn Russian oil that was crippling the ship. Oh yes, and no guns either. During the Korean War, he loaded American troops off the beaches, tanks and all into the holds of the ship while the US Navy shelled the Koreans over the top of them. He went to Russia during the 1950’s and came back to tell us the Russians were absolutely petrified of Americans. Then a few years later, after battling dangerously high seas back from Europe, upon docking in New York, he called the Coast Guard and told them to come and get that bastard of a captain off his ship. They did, and the captain never sailed again.

My father was always terrified of flying. On one of his trips back home, he flew into the New Orleans airport. The airplane’s wheels would not go down and they had to land the plane on its belly after they foamed down the runway. Then came the time when he was called back from vacation and had to fly to Africa to meet one of the Mormac ships. I remember how frightened he looked. It seemed that the Chief Engineer had died under suspicious circumstances, and they needed him to bring the ship back. On the way home, someone tried to sabotage the ship and it was only his quick actions that saved the day. He was given a citation for it, but said he didn’t deserve the award since he was merely trying to save his own ass in the middle of the ocean. He knew help wasn’t coming. 

Three years into his retirement (he was a Lieutenant Commander), the US Navy called him up and asked if he would consider doing some consulting for them. They had purchased some Mormac ships and were converting them. Since my father had the most extensive knowledge of the workings of the ships, they wanted to pay him for his help. My mother and I got to stay in one of the better hotels in New Orleans and go shopping while my father did the consulting. It was fun!

The Moore-McCormack shipping lines were in business from 1913 to 1982.  My father spent his whole career with them, and the company treated him very well. They paid my father a good salary and our family was never wanting. For that, I am grateful. He died in 1988. The Navy was kind enough to provide us with his grave marker. 

And oh yes:
We always had a port and starboard side of our house. And it was never a floor. It was the deck. Did you know that if someone dies on a ship, they store the body in the refrigerator, right next to the food? Oh, and by the way, when you jump off the ship, they don’t turn around and get you.  You’re on your own.  

                                                                 Pine and Pearls

Just finished this piece.  I'm nearing the end of my supply of pine needles, and will soon have to travel to Hattiesburg in order to get more. Long Leaf Pine trees grow from Hattiesburg to the coast only. Since I don't know anyone who lives in Hattiesburg, it's going to be a challenge.  I don't want to trespass on anyone's property.  Can anyone hook me up with a contact?  It's not like I'm going to back my truck up in their yard.  All I need is a medium sized box full of needles. 

 Cheerios

Although I don’t go out of my way to promote food products, especially processed foods, I have to admit that Cheerios has been part of my life since the very beginning of time. As a baby, when my mother needed to do do something that involved her total attention, she would sprinkle Cheerios on the floor and sit me in the middle of them. While she was doing whatever needed to get done, I would methodically pick up each and every Cheerio and eat them until they were all gone. However many Cheerios she gave me, determined how much time she had to finish her task. 

                                                      Picking them up takes concentration.

                                                        Only a few Cheerios left!

                                                               Cheerios Bliss...


As a young child, I discovered that if I licked one Cheerio, I was able to stick it to another. This led to tall stacks of the crunchy stuff. Then I discovered that I could string them and make a necklace or bracelet. I know you’re not supposed to play with your food, but this was too much fun not to. I was a very picky eater, and my mother was grateful that I liked anything. I was one of those children who would put the peas or string beans in my pocket or under the ledge of the table so I didn’t have to eat them. 

The years went by and to my horror, General Mills changed the consistency of Cheerios (or changed the recipe). I believe they did this twice. Each time, when I opened the new box, I could tell right away that it was different. This upset me greatly, and I called to complain each time. There is no reason to change a recipe or product if it is making money. I don’t want new, improved Cheerios or crunchier ones. I want the old ones! 

So when I saw the back of the most recent box, it compelled me to write this essay. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll call them up and remind them not to try and fix something that isn’t broken!  As the most interesting man in the world says: