Frog City RV Park, Duson, Louisiana
A fool’s lips bring him strife, and his mouth invites a beating. ~ Proverbs 18:6
To begin, I’d like to let everyone know that we’re fine. The storm that spawned tornadoes in Louisiana last night, missed us by about 60 miles. We had thunder, lightning and heavy rain and wind, to be sure, but we came through it completely unscathed. Although one of our neighbor’s tent awnings was captured by a tree.
This morning, I served up a fantastic breakfast to travel on – German Fries, toast and sausage! It’s very filling, stays with you for a long time, and is sorta, kinda, relatively healthy. 😊
Dice red/green peppers and onion.
Chop and smash a baked potato, sprinkle with a little cumin, garlic and cayenne pepper,
then saute in a little bacon grease. (Yep. I keep a cup in my frig for things like this.)
I didn’t want to leave you unappreciated, so the following is our gift to you, in keeping with the gift-giving Holiday this Season – – and in honor of the Cajun culture that inspired this word. May it bring joy to your Christmas Season! 😊
Cajun 12 Days of Christmas
Posted by humoretc.com
All explanations in parenthesis are mine. 😊
Day 1:
Dear Emile, Thanks for da bird in the Pear tree. I fixed it las night with
dirty rice an it was delicious. I doan tink the Pear tree would grow in de
swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma. (that’s a type of mandarin orange tree 😊)
Day 2:
Dear Emile, Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got was 2
scrawny pigeon. Anyway, I mixed them with andouille (that’s a staple sausage down here) and made
some gumbo out of dem.
Day 3:
Dear Emile, Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I’m tired of eating dem darned
bird. I gave two of those prissy French chicken to Mrs. Fontenot over at Grand
Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux (that’s Fido in Louisiana French, aka Cajun 😊).
Mrs. Fontenot needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster.
Day 4:
Dear Emile, Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem bird. Deez four, what you call
“calling bird” wuz so noisy you could hear dem all da’ way to
Lafayette! I used they necks for my crab traps, and fed the rest of dem to the
gators.
Day 5:
Dear Emile, You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden rings, me. I
hocked dem at da’ pawn shop in Sulphur and got enough money to fix the shaft on
my shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da boys at the Raisin’ Cane Lounge.
Merci Beaucoup!
Day 6:
Dear Emile, Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor egg sucking
Phideaux is scared to death ah dem six goose. He try to eat they eggs and they pecked
the heck out ah his snout. Dem goose are good at eating cockroach around da’
house, though. I may stuff one ah dem goose with erster (oyster) dressing to serve him on Christmas
Day.
Day 7: Dear Emile, I’m gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you. Ole Boudreaux (Boodro), da mailman, is ready to kill you, too. The crap from all dem bird is stinkin up his mailboat. He afraid someone will slip on dat stuff and gonna sue him. I let dem seven swan loose to swim on da bayou and some stupid duck hunter from Mississippi done blasted dem out da water. Talk to you tomorrow.
Day 8:
Dear Emile, Poor ole Boudreaux had to make 3 trips on his mailboat to deliver
dem 8 maids-a-milking & der cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da
alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me.
I told dem to get to work gutting fish and sweeping my shack–but dey say it
wasn’t in their contract. They probably tink they too good to skin all dem
nutria (they’re sorta like
beavers without tails 😊) I caught las night.
Day 9:
Dear Emile, What you trying to do? Boudreaux had to borrow da Cameron Ferry to
carry these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping across da bayou. As soon as
dey got here dey wanted a tea break and crumpets. I doan know what dat means
but I says, “Well la di da. You get Chicory coffee or nuthin.” Mon
Dieux, Emile, what I’m gonna feed all these bozos? They too snooty for fried
nutria, and da cow ate up all my turnip green.
Day 10:
Dear Emile, You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don’t kill you, I
will. Today he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said
they be “ladies dancing” but they doan act like ladies in front of
dem Limey sailing boys. Dey almost left after one of them got bit by a water moccasin
over by my out- house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde
(everybody) and get toilet paper rolls. The Sears catalog wasn’t good enough
for dem hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow.
Day 11:
Dear Emile, Where Y’at? Cherio and pip pip. You 11 Pipers Piping arrived today
from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off da boat. We fixed stuffed
goose and beef jumbalaya, finished da whiskey, and we’re having a fais-do-do (a Cajun dance party 😊).
Da’ new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniel, and he’s having a good old time
dancing with the floozies. Da’ old mailman done jump off the Moss Bluff Bridge
yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a mysterious-looking,
ticking package in da mail, don’t open it.
Day 12:
Dear Emile, Me I’m sorry to tell you–but I am not your true love anymore.
After the fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacques, the head piper. We decide
to open a restaurant and gentlemen’s club on the bayou. The floozies–pardon
me–ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and the lords can be the
waiters and valet park da boats. Since da’ maids have no more cows to milk, I
trained dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines (heavy fishing line with individual hooks and
strung across a stream, mostly used to catch catfish 😊),
and run my shrimping business. We’ll probably gross a million dollars next
year.
If I get a chance, I’ll share some things from while we’re home, otherwise, check back after the first of the year.