Catnap & Quail
My brain and my belly needed a rest after our large noontime meal. The plate of Christmas leftovers–brie en croute, crabmeat salad, roast venison, artichoke casserole, pickled shrimp, asparagus spears–were doing the Texas Two Step in my lower abdomen while my my head throbbed with invasive family questions. Par example:
“Exactly what page are you on in your manuscript?” (Dad)
“Whenrya’ goin’ to set me up with Paris Hilton? Y’all are tight, aren’t ya?” (Cousin)
“What’s a Bud on tap run ya’ up there? Do they throw in the bar nuts for free?” (Uncle)
“If you have babies up in the City, they’re going to turn out crazy. You know that, don’t you?” (Sister)
“It’s done when it’s done, Paris is not part of my inner circle, I drink Sancerre–not Bud and procreation is the farthest thing from my mind at present. Y’all satisfied?” (Me)
Like I was saying, the chintz-covered couch had never looked so welcoming. Nap time. I dimmed the living room lights and removed all but one of Mamma’s 2 dozen throw pillows, carefully stacking them on the coffee table. I had just nuzzled my head onto the shantung, poppy-red cushion embossed with an enormous pine wreath when a sudden
BOOM!
BOOM!
BAM!
rang out from the fields. Silence. Five minutes passed–time enough to shut my eyes, ease my shoulders from up around my ears. Lovely thoughts crept into my mind… visions of Paris, Rome, Southern Boy feeding me oysters and champagne…
BOOM!
BOOM!
BAM!
Damn it to hell. Quail season and the cousins were all home from college. New York’s fire alarms, sirens and bickering upstairs neighbors had been replaced by the unmistakable sound of my cousins’ shotguns piercing the still December air, echoing off the lake.
It’s good to be home for the holidays. I think.
December 29th, 2005 at 12:55 pm
do u lose a couple of cousins every hunting season?
December 29th, 2005 at 3:51 pm
ha! thankfully they’re all still with us…
December 30th, 2005 at 8:21 am
I can never remember whats in season. All i know is ‘my cousins’ welcome several dead (and appropriately stuffed) animals into their family every year ’bout this time.
December 30th, 2005 at 11:06 am
Quite the gourmet Xmas feast for the South… not your usual baked ham, sweet potatoes, three bean salad, devilled egg platter dinner we’d have had…
After nearly 25 years in the Big Apple, I realized a couple of things. I will always miss Kentucky and this will never be ‘home’ to me.
I’ve also learned that a Southern Boy can be as loyal and unconditionally loving as a Coon Hound - and ultimately as predictable and dull - and these NYC Boys can be as skittish and weird and dramatic as a Bichon Frise on Ritalin - which can have its pros and cons as well…
But when I go back home, where time has stopped somewhere in the late 1970s, I get treated like a big fish in a little pond, by virtue of not having been murdered in Manhattan. I revisit my old haunts, drifting through like a ghost, sidestep my chequered past and almost get to the point of considering a move back…
Almost.
After a week, I get so bored I could scream.
It’s my hometown, but it’s not home anymore, either. It’s good to go back for the holidays. Stay long enough to remember why you left.
(Sorry to ramble on so… this espresso’s kicking my ass! Happy New Year!)
December 31st, 2005 at 6:29 pm
Beautiful writing as always, Belle. You make me feel as though I am THERE, eating the pickled shrimp.
Thanks for good reading.
Merry Christmas and good luck with the manuscript. With your talent, it will get written just fine, thanks. I have every confidence that in the near future at a Barnes & Noble near me, I’ll be picking up your book.
January 7th, 2006 at 1:20 am
LOL…too funny!