Don’t tell me what tripe is

Handwritten page of a diary dated May 2, 1988

Europe is still good. Food is still sketchy. My dad has decided it’s soooooo entertaining to make me taste a bite of stuff before he will tell me what it is. Like today in Yorkshire I got to the table and he had ordered me this thing that looked like a corn dog with gravy. He said it’s not gravy it’s mustard sauce and you love mustard. So I took a bite and the texture of that corn dog about killed me. Then he said it’s not a corn dog. It’s tripe sausage. I said what’s tripe? He just laughed and told me to look it up, but I’m kind of thinking I’d rather not know until it’s exited my body for good.

Well this is another meal where I’m grateful they have french fries here. And these British guys, they call them CHIPS, which is weird, but I’ll give them this — they know how to make them a lot lot lot better than we do in the middle of Illinois. I should take some lessons and go back there and become the French Fry GOD. People would come from miles around to worship at my French Fry Temple.

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Original image:
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Published in: on February 23, 2012 at 11:50 am  Leave a Comment  

Chicken pot pie

Handwritten page of a diary dated April 5, 1965

that’s the reason I like the Andy Griffith Show so much. Oapie is in the same kind of boat I am with only a father and an old gramma type lady raising me. Actually unlike Sheriff Taylor my dad seems like he wants to get married. BUT he has a problem and he said maybe I was getting about old enough that he could discuss it with me.

He said OK now let’s take this for example, think of the chicken pot pie Shirley made us for dinner tonight. And I did think of it because it tasted very good and also she rolled out thin layers and made it look almost like roses around the circle. Then he said ok, now think of what kind of pot pie we would have if we went over for dinner to Kathy’s house? (behind his back I call Kathy’s house Dullsville) And right away I said Swanson because that’s all she ever makes is their frozen dinners, and that’s about worse than lunch at school.

I always wondered why he didn’t just pick Kathy because she’s much more beauteous, but it’s true that Shirley is a better cook. And now that I think of it, Shirley’s a lot more fun too, and she knows a lot about a lot of things.

I now wish he hadn’t asked for my advice because it’s all too hard for my brain to figure out.

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Published in: on February 14, 2012 at 12:45 pm  Leave a Comment  

‘I want to paint it black’

Handwritten page of a diary dated June 15, 1966

… said I could use the big hi fi in the living room, but I’ve listened to my new 45 so many times I know all the words now.

“I see a red door and I want it painted black.”

I told mom if anyone called me she should give them the phone number over here — but if Grandma keeps talking all day and all night then I’m not going to get the call I’ve been waiting for the most, am I?

“I could not foresee this thing happening to you.”

I saw Mick Jagger’s picture in a magazine once. He really does look like he’s thinking impure thoughts, like I’ve been warned about getting from rock and roll music. But sometimes I listen to the Mamas and the Papas and John Phillips looks like he is living a pretty clean life.

Oh I just looked over and noticed Grandma’s back door is red, and I really do want to paint it black. Maybe rock and roll music does influence teenagers.

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Published in: on February 6, 2012 at 2:29 pm  Leave a Comment