let freedom ring

Everyone has their own way of celebrating the 4th. Usually it involves food, fireworks and family. Here in the south, that food is something from the grill, and pork is king around these parts. Ribs. Butts. Shoulders. You name it and we'll smoke the hell out of it then douse it with somebody's special sauce. After all, it's the other white meat.

Our family ate some freshly pulled shoulder sandwiches dressed up with Quick's sauce from the guy down the road. He's got all varities for sale at the bar, but I chose mild because I'm just that kind of gal. Afterwards, we visited the mayor of Samaria Bend and her family and enjoyed some hand cranked homemade ice cream. The grills were loaded and smoking. Back in the day, they would start cooking the night before on an underground pit. Lord at the cars that would pull up for THAT family reunion. They're scattered now, like most everybody else. But they all know the value of family get togethers and teaching their children about the heritage of the farm where they grew up. We are all adult products of a lifetime on this place, black and white living peacefully and respectfully side by side. This neighborhood was integrated before the courts ever even thought about bringing the idea up. I like that about my childhood.

I'm finally gonna get something done to the left arm to make life a bit more bearable. Chronic pain just doesn't fit into my plans for working until I drop dead at the sawmill. Last time I had surgery, some smartass nurse wrote on my toes with a sharpie. I imagine it will happen again.

Peace out ^j^