Guess What




		---------------------------------------------------- WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 The Heart" July 11, 2001 Volume 1, Issue 26 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- By subscription only! Welcome to your next issue of "WRITE 2 THE HEART" You are receiving this FREE newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded it to you. Unsubscribe instructions appear at the end of this newsletter. ----------------------------------------------------- Freely forward this ezine to as many people as you wish, just remember to send the entire issue. ----------------------------------------------------- Do you have a story you would like to share with our readers? We are looking for new writers. To submit, send your original story as an email along with a few sentences about yourself to: moderator@write2theheart.com Remember to keep it family friendly. ------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- There was a summer when my son Aaron was into snakes. This is just one of the stories from that time. --------------------------------------------------------- Momma, Guess What By: Cheryl Speir --------------------------------------------------------- I was looking forward to relaxing after work before tackling the chore of fixing supper. As I pulled into the driveway I could tell that was probably not going to happen. On the front porch, Tim, Jeremy, and Howard from next door, were dancing with excitement as only little boys can when they have something scandalous to tell. I clinch my jaws in anticipation of the unknown news. I scan the house and yard for signs of foul play, smoke or other forms of chaos. As I turn off the motor, they come running off the porch to my door. Now, there is only one sentence worse than, "Momma, momma, guess what we did today", and that is "Momma, momma, guess what Aaron did today". They are saying the dreaded sentence as they bounce with excitement. Just last week the dreaded sentence was used. I survived. Aaron had taught Tim how to make waffles. The kitchen was a total disaster. There was batter EVERYWHERE. No surface was untouched. The sticky batter had dried to cement consistency by the time saw it. Not only that, five boys had experimented with toppings which were smeared all over the table. There were at least two types of syrup, honey, apple butter, jam, jelly and a few things I never quite identified. When I grabbed a rag (actually I gathered a few to soak the hardened batter till it was soft again) I noticed French bread and sandwich meat on the table. Puzzled, I asked," Where did this come from?" I was told it was left over from a luncheon at church and brought over for us. "Surely", I asked with all the hope I could muster, "It was brought over before you made waffles?" Of course not. I lived with embarrassment, but I lived. I clinch the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white. Sooner or later I have to face the inevitable. Chris walks out the front door and waves nonchalantly to me as he goes to his music room to practice his guitar. That action helps to reassure me that whatever the excitement is about, it must not be life threatening. Aaron stays on the porch shuffling his feet with a guilty look on his face. Somehow, the look takes away a large portion of the reassurance I just received. With a deep breath, I open the door. The three young boys can’t contain their excitement and start talking all at once. I hear the words snake, barbeque, skin and Aaron’s name. I have a feeling this will involve a phone call from Howard’s mother. Finally they begin to tell their story one at a time. " Aaron caught a water moccasin this big", and three pairs of hands open as wide as they can reach. "He skinned it to make a hatband out of the skin. Then he barbequed the meat and we ate it. It tasted like fish". "No, chicken". While a slight argument ensued about what it tasted like, I am speechless while I try to remember everything I’ve heard about eating snakes. My father used to tell me that most snakes were edible. The older boys had come home from their last Boy Scout camping trip telling about the survival skills they hoped to learn, which included snake eating. Now that they have told their exciting news, they take off running down the hill to Howard’s house to tell his mother. I decide I will definitely receive a phone call over this. "Well Aaron, how did it taste?" When he saw he would live through this (after all, he is his mother’s son, just ask my sister) he showed me the skin stretched out to dry. I noted it looked big enough to make a hatband and a couple of belts. He told me how he made a sauce and barbequed it on the grill and that he thought it tasted like fish. No, he didn’t save any for me. As I left for work the next morning, I saw that Aaron’s hatband would not be. The neighborhood cats were feasting on the stretched out skin as if on a gourmet meal. A large amount was missing, so the feast had gone on all night. Glancing around the yard, I saw other cats waiting their turn to get to the table. That must have been one good snake. At work, I related the story to Miss Joy, a customer. As she looked at me with wide-eyed disbelief, all she could think to say was, “ I hear they eat rattlesnakes in Texas”. She leaves the store shaking her head and mumbling something about the things boys will do. A short while later, my manager calls me to the phone. Miss Joy’s excited voice tells me I won’t believe what just happened to her. When she got home, there was a huge rattlesnake on her carport. She killed it and cut off its head with a hoe. So her dogs wouldn’t get at the head, she buried it. She had just finished skinning it. “Now what kind of sauce did your son use to cook his snake?” Cheryl Speir moderator@write2theheart.com --------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl is editor of Write 2 the Heart. -------------------------------------------------------- FROM OUR READERS --------------------------------------------------------- BOY do you and I live parallel lives! I can't tell you how many faces have been wiped off of the tops of cakes by Caleb's little hands! I learned the lesson long ago never to start a cake project until 10:00 pm but somehow by the time I wake up in the morning, there's always some little place on the cake where a little finger has pick, pick, picked......... Tammy *** I received your Write 2 The Heart. I laughed all through your story. Now I know why I usually made my girls stay out of the kitchen when I was cooking. I did let them cut out fancy shapes from the rolled cookie dough at Xmas time, and then frost and decorate them when the girls were little. It was all I could do to turn them loose at the kitchen table. What a mess! Later when they were older, they still enjoyed the job. My youngest daughter, Terri, carried on the tradition with her kids. and now that they are older, Jesse even bakes the cookies all by herself, and her younger brother helps decorate. When I'm eating the cookies, I often wonder how many times Jimmy has licked his fingers while he put the little candies on the frosting. I can't even imagine having a domain to work on. You are braver than I. I can't even answer all of my e-mail, and sometimes I feel so guilty, because I do so enjoy letters from my friends. Good luck with your domain change. Your fruit salad sounds so good. I love fruit salad. I've been enjoying cherries this past week, and I have a cantaloupe in the refrigerator waiting to be cut up. I usually cut it into eight slices, and remove the rind before putting the slices into a couple of Zip Loc bags. They don't last long. God Bless You, Love & Hugs, Pat --------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner --------------------------------------------------------- I was so very surprised at how easy it was to change my email address to the new server. I had them up and running faster than when I originally opened them. Thank you for all the encouraging emails. Is it as hot where you are as it is here? Someone needs to write a story about their favorite summertime memory. What was it? Chasing fireflies? Home-made ice cream? Learning to swim in the creek? Come on and share your memory. Till next week Cheryl --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2001 Write 2 The Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual authors or copyright owners. ------------------------------------------------------------ All subscriptions sent to your email free of charge.