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Saturday, Apr. 30, 2016

Brazil Buzz

Thursday, November 15, 2012

We are enjoying a modest decline in gas prices at the pump.

Anyone with any smarts at all knows that is short-lived.

We burn heating oil. Therefore, we are hoping for a mild winter.

The first fuel oil bill of the season was hefty.

The Amish fireplace works well for us toward lowering the expense.

The folks in the little blue house at the end of the road like it cozy.

Paul is taking some energy saving measures around the place this Sunday afternoon.

I just removed a piping hot raisin pie from the oven.

If my pie is as good as it looks, someone other than the baker will be smiling.

This scratch cook has wanted potato soup all week.

The thick, rich soup of choice will be included in the menu tonight.

I must admit, my hearty soups are a bit like Mrs. Murphy's chowder.

They are loaded with ingredients and flavor.

They do not make us yodel, loudly, other than we do smile after every bowlful.

You may be too young to remember the song about the chowder. "After dinner, Uncle Ben used to fill his fountain pen from a bowl of Mrs. Murphy's chowder."

The last of green tomatoes are now ripe.

I will slice a large one to top-off our breaded pork tenderloins.

We were in Brownsburg Friday to attend the Veterans Day program at Delaware Trails Elementary School.

Cardinal Elementary students, teachers and guests also participated in the program.

Both schools are at the same location.

The schools boast a large enrollment of students.

It did not appear there were many absentees that day.

The orderly student body must have practiced well, because they delivered with praise, songs, verse, heart and respect.

The children and speakers touched the Veterans' hearts as well as those of their loved ones.

All branches of the armed forces were present, with the exception of the Coast Guard.

A little girl stylishly dressed, as if a rock star, seated above in the bleachers spotted us early on and ran down the stairs to the floor where we sat with her uncle, Michael Risk.

She hugged and planted kisses on her invited guests.

Avery Isabella Terry attends Cardinal Elementary. She is our great-granddaughter.

Her mother, Lindsay Barrett Terry is an educator at Delaware Trails.

Lindsay is a teacher of high ability for second- and third-grade students.

After the wonderful program, we visited Lindsay's colorful classroom and met her class, that of which is always a treat.

Since Ms. Terry's students were preparing for serious studies, we bade them farewell and headed back to Brazil.

I am not sure what we will be doing on the anniversary this week.

Nothing is at the top of his list. The next thing to nothing is on mine. Suggestions are welcome.

We could do the same as when we were young -- stay home, cook a pot of beans, and then turn on a little music.

I do not know what happened to that recipe for a good time.

Something could be missing.

When we turn on that music, I doubt if we can stay awake long enough to find out.

The day of our elopement is still vivid in our minds. I told you back in 2009 how the brave move agitated the kinfolks.

The hot water reached the boiling point.

We both felt the coolness that came because of that heat of the moment. Papa was not happy and mama was too shaken to speak.

Who was that stranger that no one at the table knew?

Big brother posed a ton of questions.

My little sister, Sandra Elaine, liked the little sailor whom I met at the Vigo County Fair Aug. 17, 1957, and married Nov. 15, of the same year, after brief correspondence and only three short dates.

She knew the old creaky double bed that we shared would become a whole lot bigger.

Paul was mute. He tried to win them over with a generous grin.

I, on the other hand, was ready to grow up and move on.

The harsh words spoken that day fell on deaf ears.

Time would heal and it did -- in no time.

I reckon I could say love took me up Elm Street and love brought us back down to the little blue house at the end of the road.

The elderly folks next door planted the seed and could not find a thing to complain about the day their new neighbors moved here, and best of all, neither could their son-in-law and me. We were family.

Now, I must catch up on my chores.

You can reach me by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at pamsarq@frontier.com.