I am real disappointed in all of your folks. If you are out there reading this blog about us, you are certainly keepin' your opinion to yourself. Come on, it isn't that bad, is it? We all work hard to make time in our lives to keep you enlightened about what goes on in this town, and with the people who live here. We'd like to hear from you; good, bad, or indifferent opinions welcome. And do you mean to tell me you haven't tried, or even printed off, any of these recipes?
Oh, I see, young women don't cook anymore, huh? No wonder you have to buy them boobs and have those skinny arses. No meat with your potatoes will give you migraines, did you know that? And you're lack of being able to string enough words together to leave a comment won't stop us from keepin' on givin' you news and good eatin' hints.
For me, I dropped in on my best friend on this earth, Bess LeClaire, today. She lives in this lovely old cypress house way back in the trees near the Big Thicket. I don't know how long she's lived out there but I know she's been stirrin' up those powders and potions for people it seems like forever. They call her a conjurin' woman; that has tones of doing somethin' underhanded, shady. But Bess didn't take much money for what she offered, bartered for goods mostly, and people were helped. Or they wouldn't have continued to seek her advice, would they?
When I was goin' through that womanly time in my early fifties, I went out to Aunt Lutie for some help. Those hot flashes could have lit up the night skies. I had a cafe to run and a young girl to raise. I couldn't be puttin' quilts up over the windows and sleepin' in on those mornings after a sweaty no-sleep night. She ground up roots and berries and made me a cup of tea. Before I left her little front porch, I felt better, and those cups of tea carried me through those couple of years of female unsettles pretty easily.
Same thing about my final illness; Bess took care of me until the end. She saw that I had a potion to ease the pain, keep me goin' longer that Dr. Barnes diagnosed, and made my life so much better. I guess if anyone really knew what was in those powders, she might be subject to an investigation. But no one would ever blow the whistle on her. That old Gullah woman can pretend innosence like no one you've ever seen.
Today, she decided we needed to talk about MM--and Miguel. She wanted to know if I thought they would ever tie the knot--if we didn't interfere. I remember before the reaction when Mary Margaret found out we had put a love potion/powder in her coffee. That gal went home and threw out the best tasting coffee ever and read me the riot act about interferring in her love life, or lack thereof. So I really hesitate to push this along in any way.
That Bess can be a strong voice for what she feels is the best for people, let me tell you. She insists these two are meant to be together forever, but she thinks they are wasting precious time. Don't we all? Even Bethy Rose wants her to hurry up and give her a sibling or two. I argued in the couple's favor, I really did, but Bess can be stubborn. Of course, I don't know any other people like that in this story, do you? Anyway, she's given me an ultimatum--Mary Margaret has three months--until the week after Christmas--to accept a proposal and set a wedding date, or Bess LeClaire, conjuring woman extraordinaire, will make it happen.
Lordy, how am I going to get this across to Mary Margaret without her getting on the badside of Bess?
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