I have spent small fortunes on products that have all promised to produce the “look” currently in vogue. None of them have transformed me into the enchanting goddess of beauty that I obviously am on the inside. My hair-splitting saga might make yours stand on end but hopefully it will allow you to let your hair down a bit and remember the good ole days.
was five years old when I first saw him. My kindergarten class had just taken a field trip to the Western Hatcheries in Dallas, Texas, and the guide showed us the ivory-colored oval that had a baby chicken inside.
So began the saga of Lyndon, the proud, cocky rooster that was eggs-clusively mine.
My grandmother, Mup, spent most of her time in a kitchen that was her empire. Not all of the culinary treasures that Mup produced in this room received high acclaim by our family, but, there are a few ofs that are legendary.
They include her macaroni and cheese, her lemon ice-box pies and her most applauded masterpiece, candied apples.
Growing up in Texas in the 60s, a big sis (me) tells the tale of how her brother’s current business savvy had roots in his ability to make amazing trading deals with any chump kid that came along…and it all started with the cracks in the school playground!