Red Velvet Wisdom

If you have never seen the movie Steel Magnolias, well you’re missing out and been living under a rock, but I digress.  If you ever wanted to get the small town southern beauty shop experience that is pretty much an exact reflection of that movie, you need to make a stop by Peggy’s hair barn in Genoa.   My family has been going to see her for ages, and I love going in there with Mama when she’s getting her wash and set.  When we started this site, her shop was one of the first places that came to mind honestly.  You get your hair done, your brows waxed, and all the advice and gossip you can fit into a hair session.  Oh, and did I mention she can get you a good deal on a casket too?

The porch of Peggy's Hair Barn

Seriously, sometimes these posts write themselves!  Now I don’t know all of the particulars of how Peggy came to run a casket business on the side,  (as she says “I send you rest looking your best”) but I first became aware of it when my grandpa died a few years ago.  Mama was having some conversation with me about casket prices, and she just randomly said,” well Peggy can get me one for cheaper than the funeral home so I am going to look into that too.”  It took a minute for it to sink and I then asked her how on earth her hairdresser could get her a casket and she looked at me like I was idiot and said, “she SELLS caskets Joy.”  (she gives me that look a lot in case you haven’t guessed.)    We didn’t end up getting his casket there, but Mama was able to tell the funeral home that her hairdresser could get her a better deal, and after getting over the shock of that statement, they came down on the price.    And the thing I remember most about that whole incident is Peggy doing Mama’s hair for the funeral, crying right along side her, dabbing her eyes while she teased Mama’s hair.  In classic Steel Magnolias fashion, her clients are her family.

And speaking of her family, Peggy loves to tell a story about her own Mama, who has been gone for quite some time now.  Her mama, like many, came from the days when you dyed your hair jet black, teased it into a hellacious beehive and it stayed that way until you washed it again.  Forget Bumpits, those women had their hair 3 feet in the air with nothing but Aquanet and sheer determination.  Well apparently after Peggy became a hairdresser, her mother asked her if she did that particular style of hair, and when Peggy told her no, her mama said, “well if you can’t tease it up to last at least a week, you’re not much of a hairdresser.”  Oh the wisdom of Southern mothers!

Truvy, I mean Peggy giving a haircut.

In addition to being the resident hair banger in town, Peggy also has a past as a restaurant owner.  Once upon a time she owned Peggy Sue’s, and even though I never had the pleasure of eating there, Daddy was always saying how delicious her burgers were.  So of course I couldn’t leave there without getting one of her secret recipes from back in the day.  She swears this one is so easy even I can’t mess it up!

Three Hours of Heaven

• 1 large brisket
• 1 jar of chili sauce
• 1can of Coca Cola
• salt and pepper to taste

Place the brisket into a turkey bag, and cover with remaining ingredients.  Place the bag into a roasting pan (make sure the brisket is fat side down) and cook for 3 hours at 350.

..never tell who the winner is of the Ramage Farm Jellies. I tried to do some pasting from Randomizer.org and am just too tired to make it work. I saved it for anyone who wants to arm wrestle Joy to see the results.

It was Elva King. (*claps*)

I will contact her and let her know she won.

Thanks to all who are still reading. We fell behind when Mom was so sick. I hope we are back on track.

Sorry for the lull around here. I’m hoping we have things under control with Mama. She is being contrary so that is good news.

How could we let October pass us without paying tribute to the pink?  You would have to have been living in a cave to miss the pink ribbons for breast cancer awareness around here during the month of October.  Once upon a time people were so squeamish about saying the word breast that there was a fear surrounding even mentioning breast cancer.  But now, thank goodness, the world in general is much more comfortable talking about it and supporting the cause to find a cure.  Which is a wonderful thing considering how many lives are touched by it every day.    Within the last two weeks I personally have had one friend receive a mastectomy, and another that received the diagnosis.  Most families have been touched by the diagnosis of breast cancer, and if they haven’t, the odds are that they will.

The truly scary thing about breast cancer is that is can strike anyone at any time.  If you have ever been to any sort of event that raises awareness for breast cancer, you will be awestruck by the different faces of so many survivors.   Today, I would like to show you this face, and tell you her story of survival.

She is beautiful, young, and extremely goodhearted. She is the wife of our young cousin that we all called, Baby. He would cringe for me telling you that, but he younger than all the other cousins and so he was dubbed Baby. Baby’s wife is named Diana and was diagnosed with breast cancer just this past spring.  It’s amazing to me that the young woman I met so many years ago would grown into such a strong and inspirational person.   I remember the first time I met Diana.  She and Baby were coming to town with their young children and I was wondering how bad it would be. Three young kids? It was the opposite of my wildest dreams.  She and Baby were so young and I was curious as to how on earth they were going to handle all of those kids on such a long trip.  Much to my surprise they were well behaved, well mannered, and pleasant.   Being a teacher and mom I can tell you that this doesn’t happen by accident, but with careful planning and organization.  Diana had every detail of the kids’ care planned down to color coded bottles and pacifiers.   She was able to care for premature twins at a young age and a toddler with grace and style that I have never seen before.  I have sang her praises ever since. (that doesn’t happen often, trust me)  Even after adding a fourth baby into the mix, Diana has always been organized and totally on top of her game.

I asked her if we could get her story and share it with you all, and here it is in her own words:

In Sept of 2008 I did a self breast exam and found a lump on my Rt breast. The reason why I did self breast exams is because my grandma and aunt both had breast cancer, and while working on the Oncology floor I kept meeting a lot of young women with breast cancer. So I guess you can say my paranoia saved my life:]   After finding the lump, my OB/GYN sent me to do a mammogram and referred me to a general surgeon who ended up doing a biopsy and found that it was just a benign mass.  But in January of 2009, I felt that the lump had grown quite a bit and also there were 3 other lumps. Since the general surgeon told me that it was not a cancerous mass I did not do or say anything about it until I mentioned it to my husband late February. Being the caring husband that he is he told me to call the dr ASAP because that did not seem right. Of course I went back to my OB/GYN, and once again they did another mammogram but this time they saw something that did not look right. The General Surgeon told me that they found 6 lumps all together and that one of them looked very suspicious, but for me not to worry cause I am “young”. So to be safe he scheduled me to have a lumpectomy.  On March 16, 2009 I was told that I indeed had breast cancer. A week after my diagnosis I met my dear Oncologist, Dr. Patt.  Through it all I was told the best news I could of ever have wanted to hear, I was at Stage 0.   I had DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ), it was still in my ducts and had not spread.   I was given 2 options, either mastectomies or everyday for 7 weeks Radiation.   At first I did not know what to do, I felt lost.   I knew what radiation did to the body and I also knew that radiation 50% of the time just made the cancer dormant for a few years, so I was scared going that route.  But to have a mastectomy at the age of 28, I was like why, what if my husband did not find me attractive any more, what if I look weird. But my wonderful husband opened my eyes when he told me, “I want to grow old with you, not your breasts.”   He strongly suggested for me to have mastectomies.   He expressed his feelings on how important it is to have me here with him and the kids and that if I wanted breast so bad he would start a savings so I can get them.   He did not care about me having breast, he just wanted me.   Luckily Dr. Patt told me that if I had mastectomies my insurance would also pay for me to have reconstruction afterwards.   So as of now that is what I am going thru, the whole reconstruction stage.  After having the mastectomies, all of the breast tissue was sent for more test to make sure the other lumps weren’t cancerous an if so, to make sure those have not spread to my lymphnodes.  Once all of the test came back Dr Patt told me that they had found a 1.7cm cancerous mass, and luckily I did have a mastectomy cause that mass could of came back and haunted me.

How does she get through this?

To be able to get thru any big hump in life, you need GOD to help guide you.   I knew from the begining of this whole ordeal that everything was going to be all right because I have GOD on my side.   Also, NEVER think you are too young to get cancer cause that is one disease that is not prejudice.  If you hurt or you have any kind of lump anywhere in your body, do not be afraid to get it checked out.   And do not be afraid to be stern with your doctors because it is your life and you only live it once.   Feel your boobies!!!!

Amazing.  I wish everyone could meet Diana.  The reason for sharing her story is twofold: We want to show off Baby’s wife (!) and we want people to see that breast cancer can be anyone. Don’t think that it can’t happen to you, because it can.

While it may seem that our website is about older women, strong women can be found anywhere.   Diana is wise and mature beyond her years.  Within the last year she has lost her grandmother, father-in-law, and battled breast cancer.  I know that I personally do not have the strength to handle things as gracefully as she has.  She has truly inspired us with her story and we hope it inspires you as well.

Some of you may have noticed that we haven’t had many posts this week.  Mama (who is typically the main star of our stories) has been in the hospital dealing with pacemaker difficulties.  It’s been a long hard week, and for the first few days, Mama didn’t really talk much due to pain/pain meds that made her sleepy.  But now that she is doing better, there is one small problem.  She has been put on a cardiac diet, and it is not something that she is pleased with.   The food that they are giving her is lackluster on a good day.  It involves her having no salt, butter, or flavor in general.   Needless to say, the dietary element of her stay has not gone well.

First thing when she came out of her morphine stupor, she yelled at my brother that she wanted a hamburger.  He promptly told her that he didn’t think that was on her cardiac menu.  She then in turn replied, “TO HELL WITH THAT!  I WANT ONE!”  Now you have to understand at this stage of her illness she hadn’t really consumed much food in the past several days, and was now starving.  Well he called me and asked if i would get her something.  I returned with a turkey sandwich and a diet Sprite.  Let us say that the red carpet was not rolled out for me when this happened.  However, being so hungry, she grudgingly took the sandwich and ate it, glad to be eating something besides beef broth or steamed broccoli.

Then this morning, as I was sleeping on the cot in her room, I heard her discussing with somebody over the phone the contents of her breakfast tray.  She claimed it was eggs with some sort of “pink crap” in it.  After she was done with the tray, she told my niece Whittney that she needed to find her something to eat that “starts with hamburger and ends in french fry”.   Then later in the day when my niece was helping her to select breakfast tomorrow she somehow thought the selection for “egg sub” would have been a large sandwich with eggs, and I had to explain to her that it stood for egg substitute.  Clearly the food fairy was not going to be dropping off a grand slam breakfast for her any time soon.

So later in the evening, she got her dinner tray.  She proceeded to tell us about her “scrumptious” (feel the sarcasm) meal that they had served her.  It was allegedly vegetable lasagna, zucchini, and garlic bread.  The look she shot my niece when Whittney presented her with it could literally have killed somebody.  Thank goodness we are already in a hospital in case one of her venomous glances stops us dead.  She pushed a little bit of the lasagna around, and closed the box and said, “well Joy maybe around 8 or so you can run and get us a hamburger.”  Clearly she has intentions of veering away from the cardiac diet.  I suggested that I bring her some sushi since it’s delicious and low fat.  She told me that she had read somewhere that sushi kills people, and my niece told her that Japanese people eat it all the time and it doesn’t kill them.  Mama’s response to this?  “Well how do we know that, it’s not like they send us their obituaries!”  Apparently the burgers and fries that we KNOW to be deadly are safer in her mind than lean fish wrapped in rice and seaweed.  It’s good to know she’s getting back to her normal self.

A few years ago, Mama had a pacemaker put in, and that Thanksgiving I had to be the one to help her with the turkey since she was not allowed to lift anything.  Well, I thought, this can’t be all that hard.  I mean seriously I had watched Mama make a turkey a million times.  And by watched I mean did other things and waited for it to be done so I could eat it.

So after she had thawed it in the fridge for the requisite 3 days, she instructed me to get it out of the fridge, and into  the sink for a bath.  I had no clear recollection of her having to bathe the turkey, but I hauled the massive bird up there and into the sink.  The seemed harmless enough until I had to strip the thing naked.  It then became painfully obvious that I had done the right thing all these years by being somewhere else at the beginning stages of turkey preparation.  First of all, when you unwrap it, it’s covered in this unseemly liquid.  Secondly, the feel of a giant raw bird is anything but pleasant.  Finally I get the plastic off and Mama tells me to stick my hand in there and get out the bag of innards.  Excuse me?  Reach in where?  I just got my nails done!  Oh and don’t forget to get the neck out.  The WHAT???  I thought maybe her painkillers had gotten the best of her and she had perhaps become delusional.  But no, she honestly wanted me to reach into the bird’s butt and pull out that little bag of luggage.

So the luggage and neck get removed after much gagging on my part.  Well, I thought, at least that’s done and I can chunk that crap in the trash.  Oh no you don’t!  Mama then tells me I have to OPEN the little bag of whatever, remove the heart, and toss it in the trash, then place all of the other goodies in the sink with the bird.  I start looking around for the hidden cameras because I am then certain that I am on a secret episode of Fear Factor—Thanksgiving Massacre edition.  But alas it was no TV show, it was real life, and my newly manicured had was elbow deep in a turkey fishing for guts.    Now once the innards and neck were in the sink, Mama filled the sink with cold water and a cup of salt, and we let the bird take a nice saltwater bath for about an hour.  Mama claims this pulls out any unnecessary liquids (i.e. blood) from the turkey.

So when the hour was up, I figured all I had to do would be scoop this bird up, toss it in a pan, stick it in the oven and be done.  But no, of course it was nothing that easy.  I had to get the turkey out, pat it dry with a paper towel, and then, I tried to put it in the pan.  Mama stopped me, rolled her eyes and mumbled something about God punishing her with such a squeamish child, and proceeded to tell me I had to rub it down in butter.  Ok, first I have to bathe this thing, then give it a massage.  Why don’t we just put a hat on it and give a name for all this much trouble?  So she produces TWO sticks of room temperature butter.   She then proceeds to tell me to take the first stick, and “rub it all around the inside.”   Well, I was not well with this at all, but I didn’t really have a choice, so there I went, elbow deep again, this time slathered in butter, rubbing all over the inside of this bird.  Then for good measure I cubed up the last little bit and tossed them in.  Then I had to take the other stick, and rub the outside of the bird down like it was getting a massage at Club Med.  Now I should mention, I am still very unsettled and had begun to whine and sniffle all the while Mama was still mumbling about why the one child she had on hand to help her was horrified of sticking her hand up the business end of a giant bird.

So finally it was ready to be placed in the roaster, and so I put it in there, and Mama has me put about a quart of water over in there, and then, of all things she throws all those other pieces of innards and neck into the water as well.  I was appalled and ask her why on earth she did that.  She looked at me like I had just asked her what 2 plus 2 was.  She said, “well Joy it flavors everything in there and what on earth do you think i make giblet gravy out of?”  I was beyond horrified.  All these years I had noticed that she would chop up a few pieces of dark meat and throw it into the gravy and I actually thought the word giblet was like slang for little tiny pieces of meat.  I had no idea it was everything else that comes packed inside there.  Finally after the shock wore off, I gathered myself and was able to cover the turkey in foil and put it in the oven.  (In case you’re wondering Mama puts it the oven set on 325 for around 4 hours depending on the size, and periodically she opens the oven and bastes the turkey in its own juices.)

4 hours later after it was done, I pulled it out and salted and peppered it to her liking.  Then it was time to make the giblet gravy.  All I can say about that is thank goodness the giblets weren’t too heavy for her to lift and she was capable of doing that without my assistance.  Sometimes good food is like a magic show and I really don’t need to all the secrets of what is going on behind the curtain.