My Year with Grandma

Cooking Lesson

Dear I still don't know what to call you,

It has been three weeks of being forced to work with animals! First the sheep shearing, which stunk to high heaven; then I had to help muck out pig pens, horse stalls and the chicken house. I hate animals. Well, that's a lie. Bojangles and I have become friends. When I don't have time to write in this journal thing, I talk to him. At least I know he can keep a secret. I asked him what I should do about the baby since I'm kind of running out time to decide, but all he did was snort and walk to the far side of his stall where one of the cats had just had kittens. He laid down next to them and licked the mama cat. I've learned not to think anything is odd around here because EVERYTHING is.

I don't freak out at the skunk anymore, but I still do my best to avoid him which is hard because he's everywhere. I go out to gather eggs, he's there. I help feed cows, there he is. Come in for lunch, he's in the house. I swear he's Gram's familiar. Yes, I still think she's secretly a witch. Mainly because she manages to sneak up on me ALL the time. It's like she just morphs from place to place without a sound. And I have seen her with at least three different eye colors. One day she has green, then blue but mostly violet. She told me she has "mood eyes", that they change with her moods. I never even asked her about it but then she is always answering questions I don't ask! I'm just thinking about them and boom! There she is with an answer.

Oh! And that dog of hers, the German Shepherd that destroyed my stuff? What's her name? Mars or something like that. Yeah well, apparently it can open doors because it came in the bathroom the other day while I was... well looking for stuff, you know, not like anything was there but still, I thought I had the door locked but that dog just marched up in there like nothing and nosed me out of the room. You think that old woman can talk to dogs? I know she talks aloud to the cats and that skunk, and they all seem to understand her so probably.

There are so many animals here, I feel like I've locked up in a weird old west zoo. I guess this week we supposed to go down to the goat pens and "pick out dinner." God, I sure I hope I don't have see them kill something.

Today, however, she said I could sleep in because I'd be working with some chick named Melinda in the kitchen. I don't cook. Here's hoping I don't cut my fingers off. Or burn the place down. On second thought, if'n it does burn down, I could go back to Mom's and get out of this honky tonk. You know, that woman probably heard that thought as I wrote this down. Just kidding, Gram.

Guess I better get after it. It's already nine and I haven't eaten yet. Later Journiary. Yeah. I like that. Journal plus diary. Journiary. Haha. Yeah, it won't stick... It's stupid.

**

I went to the kitchen expecting to find Gram waiting for me so she could lay my orders out for the day. Refreshingly, she wasn't there. Instead, I was greeted by the Melinda chick who introduced me to her other helpers, Nyssa and Grace, who looked to be around my age. She explained that we would be prep cooking for the week so that Gram and the others wouldn't have to work as hard to get supper on the table. "Wait. Gram and the others cook? I thought you did all that."

"We all do our part around here. That's how families work."

"Families? Aren't you hired help?"

She giggled a bit at my statement. "No, not at all. Gram's my mom. Well, our mom." She said waving between herself and the other two girls. "Legally, that is."

I sat down at the small table with a plethora of vegetables in front me and looked at her with eyes as wide saucers. "Your mom? So y'all are my aunts? I feel like there's a story here."

"There is." She agreed. "But..."

"It's not yours to tell?" I guessed.

"I was going to say, not suitable for all audiences." Melinda, a small woman with short blonde hair and hazel green eyes, sat at the table and ushered her companions to do the same. Nyssa, the dark-eyed, older looking one of the two younger girls, with long dark curly hair pulled up into a messy bun, started peeling carrots as the younger looking blue-eyed, blonde began trimming celery.