Where did August go? Perhaps it just melted into that Theater of the Living my daughter likes to watch so much.
This week’s morning weather has been such a relief that it’s very nearly put me in mind of State Fair time in Jackson, where I resided some 13 years and escaped under cover of darkness in mid-2001.
Many people there absolutely swear that the Weather Gods set their cool-air switches to whenever Lester Spell sets the State Fair.
Perhaps it’s more the other way around, but gauging weather is almost as easy as predicting what the Bulldogs or Rebels will do this football season.
Speaking of Jackson, if you’re a zoo lover, they’re moving their two African elephants to the Nashville Zoo.
They say money’s tight and the Law of Keeping Elephants requires at least three for a herd. They say they’re hoping to get them back one of these days.
I hope the Nashville elephants aren’t the stuck-up kind, like in the movie “Dumbo,” where they all looked with disdain upon the poor little critter with such big ears.
Well, I guess Dumbo showed them when he took off flying, and then saved Christmas for Santa – or was that another movie?
Speaking of movies, I admit to seeing the geezer-action movie, “The Expendables,” three times since it opened two weeks ago.
I’m not sure I’ve seen the same movie three times in a real theater since “Hard Days Night” brought The Beatles up close and personal in 1964.
Really, “The Expendables” is hardly an intellectual experience, but it’s great fun for sheer hyperbole. Totally over the top and hilarious in its extremes.
And I’m not sure I’ve seen that much explosion since “Where Eagles Dare” in 1968 when Clint Eastwood and Richard Burton scaled that snowy mountain and blasted the scheming Nazis. With only small packs on their backs, they managed to fire off probably a million rounds.
Soon, I’m expecting to see little muscley plastic guys like Sly Stallone and Dolph Lundgren in the stores. My grown-up son, who saw the movie on my third time, is hoping so for Christmas stocking purposes.
I don’t know what happened to those gazillion He-Man figures or the things that looked like rocks but weren’t. I suspect my sister still has all of her son’s carted down to Florida. Maybe a hurricane will take them to Toy Heaven one of these days.
What remains heavenly is the legacy of Pickle Summer.
I’ve gotten several requests for my easy recipe, which means you don’t have to pressure-cook them or brine them in the bath tub for two weeks or whatever.
The recipe’s gone to my sister, after she took her jar to work and her colleagues went bonkers over them. Readers have been nice enough to ask for copies, too.
So, if you’re going to be part of this Theater of the Living with a cravin’ for dills, hot dills or pickled anything else, you’ll find how to do it on my blog, From the Front Row, @NEMS360.com. Or give me a buzz and I’ll see if I can work it some other way that suits you.
Contact Patsy R. Brumfield at (662) 678-1596 or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Patsy R. Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal