It must be Sunday in the South, chicken is frying and NASCAR is on television.
Sunday dinner - (aka lunch) We once invited some Yankee friends over for Sunday dinner. They didn't show up or even call, until about 6 p.m. when they came strolling in like nothing was the matter. (Note to self - be specific about the time when inviting non-Southerners to dinner).
Our kids still can't believe we watch NASCAR. Admittedly, we were never interested in it until given an opportunity (definition: free tickets) to see a race up close and in person back in 2001.
Yesterday was the Daytona 500 - the Superbowl of NASCAR. Like the Superbowl, the race-themed commercials were as entertaining as the race. The weather was perfect in sunny Florida. From the initial boogity-boogity-boogity to the final photo finish, and all the firey crashes in between, the fans at the race got their money's worth this year.
Working one of the wreckers to clean up after crashes was our own local towing specialist - Max Frady, of Clark's Towing (we don't charge an arm and a leg - we just want your tows).
It was nice to sit around the dinner table with kids and grandkids and guest Grandma Pam, just visiting and catching up. It is still hard to believe that Buddy and I are the oldest generation in this family. So many Sunday dinners were spent next door at his mom's house, with her famous fried chicken and all the fixins.
I was thinking of my mother-in-law on Saturday, and when I turned the calendar over on Sunday morning, I realized it was her birthday. If you are up there watching, Inez, know that I am still trying to get your chicken recipe just right, and we are carrying on the Southern traditions.
~photo API-Jonathan Ferrey/Getty Images
