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October 22, 2014

George Smith: Light at the tunnel’s end not a train

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George Smith

Posted: Wednesday, July 30, 2014 4:30 am

WEDNESDAY’S LIST ... of beans ’n greens ’n other things:

***.

THAT LIGHT at the end of the tunnel wasn’t a train. It was the end of a major facelift — from floor up — of a new kitchen for the blonde. It was a project I thought would run out of calendar space, but except for a bit of fine-tuning I can again cook cornbread and field peas with snaps.

It is beautiful and, after paying the bills with son-and-heir’s inheritance, I’ve been going around telling everybody that Southern Living has called three times. That, of course, isn’t exactly the truth. (Not close.)

There is a rest of the story here.

My dad, B.H. Smith, was a master carpenter. Most who knew his work said he was the best in his time. And I never once thought I’d say anybody was as good as “my daddy.”

Well, meet Armando Aguliar.

Armando is from Mexico and has been with Kerr Cabinets for 15 years, according to Lee Kerr.

Armando and I became good buddies (I think) off the time he spent at our house, but bottom line is the guy is a craftsman, period. If it doesn’t look just right the first time, Armando tears it out and does it again.

Thanks, Armando.

^^^

QUOTABLE: “Country songs are the dreams of the working man.” — Merle Haggard

^^^

HAD BREAKFAST with my Woodland buddies Monday morning. It’s a 56-mile drive that begins in the darkness of 4:30 a.m., but the drive is worth it ... good stories, good laughs, good company, period.

The gathering place is what used to be the old Citgo service station just east of town (not sure the name now) and the breakfast offering is good eating if you’re country ... which we all are.

But it’s the only place I’ve eaten in my entire life that has a fly swatter on the long table where we sit. Honest, eat with one hand, swat at flies with the other.

’Course, that doesn’t bother me one bit. I grew up in a few “houses” that had no screens. You learn to adapt, now don’t you?

^^^

BIRTHDAYS: July 30 – Gary Cotton; July 31 – ME; Aug. 2 – Mary Jo Vaughn.

It’s an odd tidbit that all three above are family; a brother-in-law, yours truly, and a sister.

The exception merits this from an email:

“My lovely wife Brittany Johnson is turning twenty years young on July 30 and I was hoping you could mention her in your column.  

 “She is so wonderful.  Do you know what she asked for her birthday? A sewing kit and an apron for the kitchen!  She is from Barfield and even though I bought her more than that … the country simplicity of a twenty-year-old asking for the same items my Nanny most likely asked for in her day puts a twinkle in my eye thinking about the past.”

That came from an apparently proud and in-love Thomas Jefferson. As a rule I don’t publish comments on birthdays, but I think that’s a good, old-fashioned marriage with a bunch of birthdays to come.

^^^

PEACH REPORT: The word from Ken Easterling is his last run with Chilton County peaches will be Tuesday, Aug. 19.

“I’m pretty sure I will have peaches that long,” says Ken. “Then it’s wait until next year.”

Hopefully, it will be a better year, but Tuesday’s load had about the prettiest peaches I’ve seen ever.

So, believe it or not, Chilton County peaches on a bed of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream makes for a really good breakfast.

And yeah, I’ve been told that   my DNA has a few chips missing.

Thanks for visiting ...

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