Back in the days when I had cable, I use to watch Paula’s
Home Cooking, (I think that is what it was called) with Paula Deen, on the Food
Network. I never really cared for the
food she made, not that it looked bad or anything, nothing just struck me as a
must-make except her gravy for biscuits and gravy. Yet, I watched the show for years. There was just something about her southern
twang, bright blue eyes, perfectly manicured nails, and big hair that made me
want her as my grandmother. Not in place
of my grandmothers, but like an extra one.
I could listen to her talk for hours, watch her cook with
her sons, or feed her charming husband, Michael. With her dogs under her feat, dishes piling
up, and her hands covered in flour she just glowed to me. She always made me feel warm, comfortable,
inspired, like grandmas do.
I bet that she is the type that goes to every little league
game, yelling at the sideline, and then has treats for the whole team ready for
after. Or makes you homemade chicken soup
when you are sick and throws another blanket on you every hour. Bet she would probably spank an ass or two
for too much sass.
Maybe that is what we need in the world, more grandmas.
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