This is just video footage of my momma's back yard. I'm trying to fix it up a little so she'll use it more. The only time my momma every goes back there is to feed her cats or throw away pieces of fat that she cut away from packages of T-Bones.
She cooks T-Bones for me 7 times a week. I've never seen so many T-Bones in my life. We have our own cattle and I think my momma thinks she needs to eat every last one before she dies. There's two of us in that house but we have two refrigerators and three deep freezers. They are all packed with cheese, butter, packages of bacon, gallons upon gallons of ice cream, pork sausage, pizza rolls, pizza pockets, pizza snacks and pizza. Then stuffed in every crevice available are packs of beef, including T-Bones.
You remember that story in the bible about two brothers. And one of the brothers was very faithful to his father and the business. The other brother was a big partier and liked to hang out with the Paris Hiltons of biblical times. Anyway, that brother took his inheritance early and left town for Vegas. Then when he ran out of money, he went back to the farm and said, "Daddy! Give me some money." And then the daddy said, "Sure son, I'm so happy to see you. Let's kill our fattest calf to celebrate your return."
And then the faithful son said, "What is up with that? I've been kissing your backside for the last 10 years and you've never thrown me so much as a strip of bacon! And now this loser shows up and you're throwing barbecues?"
Then the daddy says something about I don't know what. I never got the moral of that story. I kind of agreed with the faithful son at the time. But now, I'm beginning to think I'm the other brother. The one that spent the inheritance. So I've changed my opinion of which brother was right. A calf shall be killed. And my momma seems to agree.
She kills an entire calf about every month. Do you know how big a calf is? It could probably feed an elementary school for three months. I know she doesn't eat it all because I know she gives our neighbor a couple of packs of rump roast to mow our yard. And I've seen my momma leave our house several times with big bags of meat. So I think she's decided to use beef as currency. I think the whole situation is adorable. And so I want to fix up my momma's back yard so I can sit there with her and talk to her and listen to what makes her tick. I have a good feeling that it's T-Bones.
4 comments:
Would you mind if we changed your mother's nickname from "C.W." to "T-Bone"? I always wanted to be "T-Bone" but I really don't care for that cut of meat. And "Ribeye", "Tenderloin" and "Filet" just don't sound cool like "T-Bone" does. So if I can't have "T-Bone" for a nickname, I'd like your mother to have it.
Tony "Chateaubriand" S
Hey, Tony: I'd rather beg forgiveness than ask permission. Just call his mother T-Bone. See what happens.
I tried it. When I called her "T-Bone" she looked at me and told me I was even less photogenic than her son and that I must have been picked on mercilessly in school.
At least she wasn't baffled. Sounds like she hit the nail on the head. With one hand.
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