Half the Mother, Twice the Love
My Journey to Better Health with Diabetes
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Grocery Shopping Was Disneyland
My dad was in the kitchen at o'dark-thirty on Sunday mornings, organizing cayenne, black pepper, salt, paprika, and other spices; mincing garlic, onion, bell pepper; and cubing pork, pork fat, and beef. He was in his glory -- making his signature link sausages.
If six- or seven-year-old me scrambled up and begged to help, Daddy let me add a pinch of this or that, mix
the meat with my little hands, and maybe, just maybe, hold casings as he fed the meat mix into the grinder.
That sausage was the centerpiece of our Sunday breakfast, likely to include grits, slab bacon, salmon croquettes, buttermilk biscuits, smothered potatoes, and fresh-squeezed OJ.
Around seven thirty, Momma had her brood heading out the door, primed to put our nickels in the offering plate and sing Jesus-loves-me hymns. In addition to me, that brood consisted of Paula, two and a half years older than me; Michael, fiftee ... read full excerpt from: Half the Mother, Twice the Love: My Journey to Better Health with Diabetes ebook
