Lulu's Recipe for Cajun Sass - Sandra Hill Page 0,66

St. Jude, in their hearing, that it would be nice to have more babies around.

Last summer, they were sure they were all breeding, then the next month they weren’t, then they were, now no one was sure. Samantha was the only one not complaining, but she and Daniel were just getting started

How they could blame her for their wonky cycles was beyond Louise. It was all up to God…and St. Jude, of course. And, besides, everyone knew children were a blessing, not a curse.

In any case, Louise ignored Celine’s snarkiness and continued, “As fer grown men playin’ war games with antique guns? Pffft! And I ain’t gonna sit around watchin’ grown men whistle ‘Dixie,’ either, like we did at the Shrimp Festival last year.”

Celine kept trying to interrupt her, and finally got a few words in. “Not that war, Tante Lulu.”

“And, FYI, I don’t think there were many Johnny Rebs who took the time to whistle during the Civil War,” Tee-John added, before she shut them both up.

“Do ya think I’m a total idjit? I’d like ta f. y. i. ya with my f. a. n.”

Tee-John grinned.

Celine explained with a long sigh, as if Louise was the idjit in this car, and not them, “This is about the World War II era. There will be all kinds of venues related to the 1940s. Music, clothing, movies, dances, everything involving the home front.”

Tee-John backed his wife up by telling Louise, “You’re always tellin’ us stories about that time, when you were single. We thought you’d enjoy it.”

“Hmpfh! How’d ya hear about this?”

“A brochure came into the newspaper office, and I volunteered to cover the event.” Celine was a feature reporter for the Times Picayune in New Orleans. “It’s the first ever for Loo-zee-anna, but these kind of World War II celebrations are very popular all over the world, especially in Britain.”

“Isn’t there a World War II museum in Nawleans?” Louise asked.

“Yes, but this is different,” Celine said.

“People want to go back to a time when life was simpler and country pride was at a high,” Tee-John elaborated.

“Ya mean like Donald Trump wantin’ ta make America proud again?”

“Not even close,” Tee-John said with a laugh. “The 1940s were a time of austerity, as you well know. And people showed their pride and did their part by planting Victory Gardens, home canning, using ration books, buying war bonds.”

“I still have a garden, and I still can fruit and vegetables,” Louise said. “Big deal!”

Tee-John was the one sighing now. “We figured you were a young woman back then, and this event would bring back memories.”

He had no idea! The years from 1942 to 1944 were the happiest and most tragic of her life, leading to what she called her Big Grief. She would never forget. And she didn’t need any old war fair to jog her memories.

“It’ll be fun,” Celine said.

I’d rather stick needles in my eyes or watch a cypress tree grow.

“I hope they have tanks. I always wanted to climb into one of those tanks and shoot off a dozen rounds. Bam, bam, bam!” Steve/Etienne said.

“Don’t ya dare climb up on any machinery,” Tee-John warned. “You’re already grounded fer that tattoo incident.”

Tante Lulu chuckled. It was payback time for Tee-John, the wildest boy in the bayou. “Talk about bein’ grounded, I remember the time ya went ta that clothing-optional party, Tee-John, when ya were little more’n Etienne’s age.”

“Auntie!” Etienne protested. “Call me Steve.”

Tee-John groaned. “Did you hafta mention that party?”

Celine laughed.

“Whoa!” Etienne hooted. “Tell me more.”

“It wasn’t clothing-optional, it was underwear-optional,” Tee-John corrected.

“Oh, that’s better. Not!” Celine remarked.

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” Etienne informed them all.

Every person in the car looked at the boy, even his father through the rearview mirror, and the two “robots” in the way-back who pretended to be brain dead from cell phoneitis, but, apparently, heard everything. But no one said anything. What could you say to that?“

Doesn’t it hurt?” Rob asked finally. “One time I went ta school without my underwear ’cause my Superman tightie whities were dirty, and the zipper on my jeans chafed my tooter somethin’ awful.”

“Ya shoulda put some of my snake oil ointment on it,” Louise advised.

“Ouch!” Etienne said. “You’re supposed ta arrange yer goodies ta the side.”

“Goodies? Eew!” Annie observed.

“Oh,” was Rob’s reaction. “How do ya do that arrangin’ thing?”

“That’s enough on the subject,” Tee-John ordered.

“Talk about!” Louise remarked.

And Celine smacked her son on the shoulder.

“What did I do?” Etienne asked, but he was grinning like a pig in honey-coated slop.

When they