Meatball Wars

Well the gauntlet has been laid. The challenge proclaimed. The dare established. One of the gentlemen that works with my daughter has questioned whether me, a daughter of Italy, can make a decent meatball. He thinks that my having a "Polish" last name now disqualifies my inner heritage, that of being able to make a decent meatball.

My daughter defended my honor. My husband and I have come to know, from experience, what happens when she gets angry, and the passion of her heritage begins to emerge. There is no stopping her. Being a product of Polish and Italian ancestry leaves one with fiery passion and the ability to stand up for what one believes is right. Oh that is my daughter. I salute her coworker for igniting that passion, but I question his sanity. Why would he want to even go there???

And so, on Friday it began, the Meatball War. Who makes the better meatball? What is the secret ingredient? Is there a particular method that makes the perfect meatball?

My daughter told her friend that he can say what he wants, but he may not dare to discuss the quality and uniqueness of her mom's meatballs. (She has been taught well!) To prove and uphold my honor, I had to make meatballs this weekend. He made his meatballs too. The judging takes place tomorrow. A panel of judges has been determined. I have no doubt that my meatballs will prevail. I am well known for my meatballs. So is my mother. And her mother before her. Yes, it is a family talent, and one I will make sure my daughter acquires also.

Bird Followers

I haven't written for a while. Not that I haven't wanted to, but time just hasn't afforded me time to write. Sometimes I think my days are flying while other days they simply creep along.

This notion of flying always brings to mind those beautiful creatures that fly. Birds. We see them all the time. Birds live in a little cove in my roof. They nest and the babies sometimes drop to my bedroom window sill as they are learning to fly. As the mature the babies learn to "walk on the screen" of my bedroom window. At first I was horrified, but now it is a rite of passage each spring. I don't like birds, but I don't dislike them either. At times they fascinate me. I have never been a bird watcher, but I like to see them flitter about their day. Now that spring might show is warm side, perhaps a robin, the first of the season will grace us one day. I look forward to it.

What really fascinates me is the lengths that some people will go to to watch or keep birds. Take for example this person,

Birdman from Australia

I can only hope he had a good reason to do this. I can't imagine the genius that thought this plan through, or the creativity it took to discover this. Imagine the talk at the dinner table as this was being planned, or the talk at the watercooler by the inspectors that foiled this ingenious plan. I'll never understand bird-people.

I wrote this piece for my good friend Tom. He started me into the blogging adventure, and helps me stay together with it a great deal. I wanted him to read this article, so here it is Tom!!!