The Butt That Buddy Built

Here is some pertinent information you’ll need in order to make “hide nor hair” of what I’m a bout to tell you.  I don’t know what “hide nor hair” means, nor do I even know if I spelled it right, because I don’t know if I’m talking about the hair on my head or a hare that scampers about my yard trying to avoid Ivy the Huntress. 

Incidentally, Ivy caught the devil squirrel yesterday.  The devil squirrel has been taunting her since spring.  Yesterday she reigned victorious.  She brought me her booty.  That’s the second squirrel I’ve been given in the last two weeks.  Although, the first gift was actually just a squirrel head sans skull and eyeballs.  One of my students gave it to me as a gift after I talked to him at length about his love for hunting.  He told me I could use it as a key chain. 

I think that’s weird.

Anyway.  All of that is to say that I am not up to snuff on my southern sayings and don’t know if hide nor hair is spelled correctly, but my mom says it all the time, so there. 

Also, you need to know that I called my grandmother Buddy.

Her real name was Daisy Wynelle.  I was in high school before I knew that.  She was always just “Buddy.”

The second thing you need to know is that my rear-end, though not huge by cultural standards, is larger than it once was.

I blame Buddy.  She liked to cook.  And read magazines.  And get stuff in the mail.  I laugh every time a magazine comes to my house because I’m addicted to them, and I get a few monthly reminders about the cloth from which I’m cut. 

I’m frighteningly like Buddy.  Sometimes that aggravates my parents.  Sometimes they find it endearing.  All I know is I’m like her.  And I’m like my aunt Kitty.  And apparently also like my sister-in-law Shelley because my mother calls me Kitty and my brother calls me Shelley, and my kids call me mom (and occasionally Woman when they are feeling brave and humorous and I am unconscious or out of arm’s length), and Coach calls me Babe or Hey. 

At this point my real name is superfluous and only complicates things.

Sorry for the rambling.  It’s been a while.  The important things to remember are 1) I called my grandmother Buddy and 2) My butt is bigger than it used to be  3) I blame that on Buddy  4)  Buddy died in 1994, and it needs to be noted that my butt was minuscule at the time
I have forgotten why I started writing this post.

I think it had to do with Cranberry Sauce and Jam Cake.

I’m pretty sure that was it.

So, how about I go on about my day and try to remember where I was going with this post.  Tonight I’ll post Buddy’s recipes for Cranberry Sauce, Butterscotch Cookies, and Jam Cake (all the things that make the holidays the holidays) and maybe by then I’ll have remembered what I was going to tell you.

I think it was going to be sweet and sentimental.  As you can see, my mood is not sweet, nor is it sentimental right now.  In the meantime I’ll just say hi!


See y’all tonight!

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1 Comment on The Butt That Buddy Built

  1. Brittany Ann
    November 16, 2010 at 12:24 pm (7 years ago)

    I’m gonna need some Jam Cake lickety-split!


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