About 3/4 lb. cooked and cleaned shrimp, diced

1 and 1/2 packets Knox unflavored gelatin

1/4 cup cold water

1 can Campbell’s Cream of Shrimp soup–UNDILUTED

1 cup celery–cleaned, strings removed and then diced

1/2 cup chopped green onions  (scallions)

3 T tomato paste

1 Cup Helman’s mayonnaise (regular)

1 8 oz. package Philadelphia Cream Cheese

Salt and Cayenne pepper to taste

 

Brush canola oil into ramekins, and tuck plastic wrap over with extra plastic wrap extending about four inches on all sides

 

Pour the UNDILUTED soup into a sauce pan and stir in the tomato paste, salt and cayenne pepper.  Heat on low until quite warm.

 

Add the gelatin to the cold water and let sit for one minute and then stir into the warm soup, until it’s completely dissolved.

Turn the heat off and stir in the cream cheese until completely blended into the mixture.

Fold in the mayonnaise.

Pour the mixture into a mixing bowl and fold in the shrimp, celery and onions.

Spoon the mixture into the ramekins and refrigerate until firm.  then fold the extra plastic wrap to cover the top.  Refrigerate

again.  Will keep for two or three days.

When ready to serve, invert ramekins over butter lettuce, remove the plastic wrap and drizzle.

 

The drizzle:

Mix together:

One cup mayonnaise

1 T honey

Siracha to taste  (depending on how spicy your taste is)

1 or 2 T Tamari

Put the mixture in a squeeze bottle with the tip cut off so the drizzle is fine.

Lyrics for a Country/Western song. Three singers with guitars on stage:

Girl: The Sunday Evening Gal—

Woman: The Wife and Mother–

Man: Husband/Lover

　

 SUNDAY EVENIN’ GAL

(girlfriend singing)　

“When I hear that key turn in the door

I know I won’t be ‘lone no more.

At least tonight you’ll be with me

‘til you leave at half past three.”

 

“The boots are lost,

the belt is tossed with that

rodeo buckle won in town.

You strip your shirt, the jeans slide down.”

 

“You come to bed  ‘n I’m all yours.

Your breath on mine–we don’t need words.

All arms and legs, my breast, your chest.

My Sunday evenins’ are the best.”

 

(wife singing)

“Monday mornin you come home,

‘another out-of-town” you groan.

Your hair is mussed, the shirt undone.

Predictable as the mornin sun.”

 

“I dish up pancakes, hot black Joe–

the kids are all at school, you know.

I run my fingers through your hair

but it never gets me anywhere.”

 

“He says “nother weekend rodeo–

 hate to, but I gotta go.”

It seems I’m a Monday to Friday wife.

How long’s this been my way of life?”

 

　Chorus:

(girlfriend singing)

“I’m just the Sunday evenin’ gal.”

(wife singing)

“I’m just a mother, wife and pal.”

 

(husband/lover singing)

“What’s true love–away or home.

I’m just a man–I need to roam.

Ridin’, ropin’, bronco bustin’.

Booze and women–never trustin’.”

 

“Feel tied down, I wanna be free.

My Sundays are the best for me.

Monday home, she rubs my back.

Does my clothes, ‘n makes hard tack.”

 

“Tuesday comes, I’m countin’ ways.

Wednesday means just three more days.

Thursday, Friday, then I’m gone.

The pick-up ‘n me. I know it’s wrong.”

 

Chorus:

(girlfriend singing)

“I’m just a Sunday evenin’ gal”

(wife singing)

“I’m just a mother, wife and pal”

(husband/lover singing)

“I’ love them both, I surely do.

Just want my cake ‘n eat it too.”

 

　(girlfriend singing)

“My night is here–one out of seven.

When I’m with him, it’s pure heaven.

I only wish I’d make him see

it’s best if he’d just marry me.”

 

“I hear him now, he’s at the door.

He always leaves me wantin’ more,

For now he loves me in my bed.

I want to be his wife instead.”

 

‘I’ll tell him this: The time is right.

He’s got to know the truth tonight.

Cowboy, though you’re hot and wild

You’ve got to know–I bear your child”

 

Chorus:

(girlfriend singing)

“I’m just a Sunday evenin’ gal.”

(wife singing)

“I’m just a mother, wife and pal”

(husband/lover singing)

“I love them both, I surely do.

I want my cake ‘n eat it too.”

　

(wife singing)

“This time he left, I followed him.

Watched him ride. Watched him win.

Saw him enter that motel door,

then turned away. My heart he’d tore.”

 

“When mornin came, I saw him leave.

I was too numb, couldn’t even grieve.

Waited ‘til she sashayed out

‘n told her what he was about.”

 

“Your lover is a married man.

Got four kids, a house ‘n van.

A mortgage, huntin’ dogs, a cat.

You aren’t the first–you won’t be last.”

 

(girlfriend singing)

“You’re not my kind of man.

This child in me–don’t give a damn”

(wife singing)

“Couldn’t take that shit no more, ‘n then–

packed up, took the kids ‘n ran.”

 

Chorus:

(girlfriend singing)

“I was his Sunday evenin’ gal.”

(wife singing)

“I was a mother, wife and pal.”

(husband/lover singing)

“That’s what I git for havin’ sinned

I’ll never know what might have been.

I’ll never know what might have been.

I’ll never know what might have been.”

　

(All three a’sangin’, ‘n guitars a’twangin’)

(girlfriend)   “You’re not my kind of man.”

(wife)    “Couldn’t take that shit no more ‘n then”

(husband/lover)    “I’ll never know what might have been”

(girlfriend)   “This child in me, don’t give a damn.”

(wife)   “Packed up, took the kids ‘n ran”

(husband lover)   “I’ll never know what might have been.”

                                     “Never know what might have been.”

                  (voice trailing off)                              ” What might have been…..”

 

Jan Chapman

January 2013

Guess they have arrived

Sags, bags and wrinkles that is

None there yesterday

 

Dead as a doornail

I never saw a doornail

At least a dead one

 

 Showered tonight

Smell like apples and peaches

Want to  bake a pie

 

The Fountain of Youth?

I rid my house of mirrors

Without them, I’m young

 

Please! Release my words

I need a ‘enry ‘iggins

Before it’s too late

 

So it’s come to this

My lost, lonely libido

Here’s to vibrators

                                                                Jan Chapman

                                                                November, 2012

My son Mike, set up my Blog, and one of the categories appears to be one titled “Other”.  I’m in a quandary as to what this means.  One would assume that it’s merely a ‘catch-all’ for anything not qualifying to be entered in any of my other categories.  So—

If any of you out there in cyberespace has a suggestion as to what I can write about pertaining to “Other”–I’m open to all suggestions.

Here’s a random thought:  When you reach the end of any given category (Poetry, for instance,) hit “Older Posts”.  There’s more poetry to be had.

Jan