The seagull and I
"Tuna is always nice, but if I never have to taste another drop of Miracle Whip, I'll be thrilled."
Yacht Club Beach Cape Coral, FL
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Pool ku
pairs of lotioned limbs grow tan on white deck chairs sometimes a page turns a hibiscus bud skips across the chalky deck prodded by a breeze crows drop crusts of bread into the blue pool, a few sink to nevermore styrofoam noodles the color of crayons float in bright water the black and white cat crouches, lapping water slyly then feigns indifference a ring of house keys a pair of yellow flip flops lie in striped shade her gaze enjoins the umbrella’s taut shadow of whom does that girl dream?
Agatha
It must have been close to Christmas, but on which side, I don't quite remember. I suspect it was sometime in the January doldrums when all was frozen and gray. My friend Walter decided it was a good day for a dog. To get one, that is. "I know I'm me, because my little dog knows me," Walter once quoted Gertrude Stein. With his boyfriend Joseph away in the hospital, the house had an unaccustomed empty feeling. And it had been without a dog for too long. The shelter was in Ann Arbor . We piled festively into the car for the outing. It didn't take long to find her, a black and white ragamuffin puppy, so excited to see us that her tail seemed to wag her whole body. "This one?" I said, my inner ten year old going can we get her? Huh? Can we? Can we? On the way home in the car Walter chuckled, "I don't know whose eyes were more pleading - hers or yours." Walter named her Agatha, in honor of Miss Christie, the doyenne of our mi...
Okay Joe. I have always been a Hellman's girl myself.
ReplyDeleteMiracle Whip is an imposter as far as I am concerned.
And if you are going for tuna, get the steak, not the stuff in a can!!!
Love your new blog look, the sand is the best!
Cheers
Hellman's forever.
ReplyDeleteTo each his own, I guess.
ReplyDeleteGive me Miracle Whip any day (particularly if it's on a grilled cheese sandwich). Leave the tuna in the can, or rather at the grocery store!
Joe, your blog is a work of art.
(Thanks for dropping by TO&TFTBG and leaving a comment. I'm addicted to reading blogs, even though I have little to say myself.)
Thanks, Paul...
ReplyDeleteDon't get any on that beautiful tie.
Your blog moves. I like that.
I am liking Hookey Beach... there is a time and a place for both Miracle Whip and Hellman's... depends on ones mood...
ReplyDeleteTuna with lemon juice and dill, yummmm
ReplyDeleteand Hellman's if you must.
Dill never fails. Last fall I tried poaching a salmon steak. I always thought fish should be grilled... poaching struck me as insipid. I was wrong - it was sensational.
ReplyDeletePoaching rocks. Dill does too.
ReplyDeleteON the salmon, grilled on the bbq.
Awesome!
~Blue the spa girl at work~!!!
One day last summer I spent an entire afternoon with my friends Bert and Karen grilling, one at a time, must have been eight or nine different kinds of seafood that Bert had in the freezer. Grouper, perch, shrimp, scallops, tuna, salmon, you name it. I think we went through two or three bottles of white wine too. Nothing else, just the grill and the wine, and some bread. Took all day. For dessert we cut up a pineapple.
ReplyDeleteJust say no to Miracle Whip! Tuna with a squeeze of lemon only. Why ruin a good thing?
ReplyDeletethat seafood pineapple wine combo is to die for.
ReplyDeleteyou truly are a man who appreciates the finer things in life.
simplicity is king.
!Blue! at work, again.
You're right - the good stuff needs nothing more.
ReplyDeleteMiracle Whip is the Anti-Christ of condiments. But Hellman's is too sweet for me, too. I like Kraft.
ReplyDeleteMy best seagull story also involves Kraft, but not mayo. We were at the beach, and a grandma and her grandson brought their kit and caboodle over and plopped it down not too far from where we were staked out, then headed off to the shoreline. We could see a seagull circling over their pile, beady eyes clearly intent on something in there. All of a sudden he swooped down, yanked a Lunchable from their stash, pierced the film of the meat compartment with his bill, grabbed the meat and took off. ^_^ I think of that every time I see a seagull now.
Did I already tell that? Damn, I should have stayed with simple. . .
So what is the miracle of Miracle Whip, anyway? Did Jesus turn a dung heap into salad cream? I mean, that would make some sense, because I can certainly trace its heritage.
ReplyDeleteNice music. Who is she? Sounds a little like Bette.
ReplyDeleteDuh. I guess it is. What happened to the line:
ReplyDeleteMmm, I'm in the mood to be
Swimmin' in the nude,
Sinnin' too.
... too bad you, won't be there to see... It's in there, layered into the chorus.
ReplyDeleteCandace, what's more Krafty, ahem, than a hungry seagull? The ones around here are pretty skillful. People throw Cheetos off the dock and watch the gulls swoop down and pick them out of the air.
Ever since Paul mentioned grilled cheese, guess what I've had for lunch every day? Swiss on rye, grilled in butter and pressed flat with a flipper.
No, I don't think you've told that story already... eh, what were we just talking about?
http://emotionalliteracyeducation.com/classic_books_online/awoni10.htm
ReplyDeletecut and paste for Oscar Wilde!
Cheers
Grunt, if he can make a believer out of a heap like me, he can do anything. But I suspect very few brands if any, with Miracle in their names, are. Ever notice how the farther away motels get from the beach, the more sun-kissed their names? "Until they suddenly give up altogether", as Nabakov once observed, I think it was in King, Queen, Knave. Of which, by the way, I have a first edition, which I found in a gloomy and enchanting old second hand bookstore in midtown Manhattan three decades ago. The kind of place you want to linger for hours, inhaling what seems eons of must and memory.
ReplyDeleteMiracle whip truly sucks. What is it really?
ReplyDeleteHi:)
ReplyDeleteI liked the pic.Your blog is very beautiful.I liked the template.
thanks for watching my movie and commenting on it.
good day :):)
And good day to you, kind sir.
ReplyDeleteCindra, it's a mystery.
Thanks for the point, Blue. I hesitate to read the play. Wilde gives me quipitis. Brace yourself.
Hey bud,
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment the other day!
Your photos are outstanding!
...and for the record, I'm a Mayo guy and Miracle Whip ain't mayo so I'm with you on never having to taste another drop of it.
I am too. Once in a while I'll live dangerously and make it from scratch with fresh eggs. It's good.
ReplyDeleteJoe - I was actually mulling a post on Miracle Whip, believe it or not. Still not quite sure on the angle though.
ReplyDeleteSo you're a believer? Too?
ReplyDeleteOdd, how often Miracle Whip turns up in conversation. Awhile ago, a fellow blogger told me that he hated MW because he had it served to him daily on bologna sandwiches as a child. Although he didn't say it out loud, I got the feeling his dislike was do to the pedestrain nature of ordeal which, somehow, scarred him for life...or at least, turned him off to the spread, now that he was able to afford finer things in life.
ReplyDeleteMe? Miracle Whip or nothing. I'm just that pedestrian.
Very nice photo. It snowed an inch over here in NJ on Friday. My wife and I went out for an evening walk and following the footsteps of a man (on the left of the sidewalk) and a woman (on the right). We pondered whether they had walked together, how much they weighed, where they were going.
ReplyDeleteIt was fun.
Diesel, I know whatever way you spread it, it'll be tasty.
ReplyDeletePedestrian is not exactly the way I think of you jock, Miracle Whip or no. Those childhood totems turn can their faces in many directions -including toward renunciation and lifelong disdain, or extravagant and unquestioning affection. Mayo lies, for me, approximately to the north east on my inner compass.
Dan, that sounds like something I'd do. And leave it to you to catch the drift of the matter.
Yeah, Paul. But not in a way that many religions would recognize. Yet somewhere between the carnal swamp, and the Big Religion death star, there's a powerful but quietly sustaining current that buoys one along. But "the wise man keeps his own council, for the times are evil." The true church is an invisible body. Not everything is as it seems.
What the hell is quipitis? Do tell!!!
ReplyDelete;P