Projected Family Portrait
For the month of July, it's Camp Georgia at our house, as we're paying George to take care of Lola until she (George) leaves for school in August. The sisters have made a loooooong list of activities to while the while and have already checked off 'see Mim's Island,' 'baking day,' 'walk to Publix,' and 'go to the World of Coke.' At Camp Georgia, Lo must say please and thank you. She must brush her hair. She doesn't eat junk food and she has to exercise. I recommend Camp Georgia. It's money well spent.
I don't have much money, however, because Georgia is also cooking for us. You might think that sounds wonderful, especially since she's an awesome cook, and it is. But she sends me to the grocery store with epic lists--full of strange, foreign items, such as buttermilk and pineapple-not-from-a-can. Monday, we had oven-fried chicken, twice-baked potatoes, warm rolls, and fresh fruit salad; Tuesday, it was French bread pizzas from scratch; yesterday, a home-made chicken casserole; and today, country-fried boneless pork chops, fresh corn, peas, and muffins. At every meal, Biggy acts like a pig in mud. He tells my daughter over and over how good everything is, glancing sideways at me with an expression born of nine years of Old El Paso Gorditas and Tuna Helper. He never knew it could be like this.
But I've got news for my husband: my lack of kitchen skills has kept him fit and trim. Three more weeks of these dinners, that will be us above: Biggy, Stella, me, Jack, Blaise, and Lo (who'll be fine because she won't eat real food).