Interesting: Calling all cooks, chili

Interesting: Calling all cooks, chili



I bought this cockpot last week at a thrift store for $6.96. I put the salt shaker in the picture so you can determine the size of my cockpot. What size do you think it is?


My next project will be Chili. I will shop for the ingredients tomorrow (Sunday) and cook it tomorrow night. I already have 2.25 pounds of burger and I want it spicy, good and spicy.


What I want from All of you; is to tell me how to make it. I know I can call my son (who is a great cook and I will call, text or tag him), ask some friends or Google it (actually I already Goggled it), please give me your personal recipes for my enjoyment. 😊


I want as many of your choice tidbits as possible, so I can mish-mash some of them and eventually have my own.


Note: When my son, Billy, was eight he told me, “Dad we don’t like your cooking.” I’m not sure, but I think I laughed. What did happen for sure though, I bought my oldest son, Jamie, a cook book. He has become an excellent cook and I have enjoyed his dishes for years. That was one of the best books I have ever purchased excluding scripture of course.



Your three words, my little story
Raymond’s words: wang, succulent and riffraff



Brownsville PA


Fridays were their nights to go out dancing and leave the kids home with the sitter. With out fail, he always told the sitter, “We’ll be back at 12:30.”


Not only did they enjoy going to the bar called, ‘Let’s WANG Chung Tonight’, they also went for pizza afterwards. Both of these establishments were close to each other, on the east side of the park.


They normally danced to ten, then ate and relaxed next door till midnight. Afterwards they took the long way home, while strolling hand and hand through the park. Their single family home was located in what’s known as, ‘Points West’.


If they took a more direct route, it would take them by the town’s RIFFRAFF at the ‘Wall’, which was located on the north end of the park. People of Sloan steered clear of the long haired, pot smoking, bumper drinking teens, but the hippies never bothered anyone or anything, so most people let them be.


After the couple made it home, he would walk the sitter next door, before they closed the night out their special dessert. The wife would say, “Sometimes this is my favorite part of the night.”


“Me too.”


The treat was a dish invented by the wife. It layered out; with partially over ripe strawberries on the bottom, a layer of vanilla pudding, vanilla wafer cookies, bananas, more pudding, more wafers, kiwi, more pudding, more wafers and topped with whipped cream. Sometimes it was baked for a short period of time, but most times not.


After eating a bowl of the SUCCULENT dish they had no choice, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms.


Interesting: Calling all cooks, pinto beans

Interesting: Calling all cooks, pinto beans


I have two bags of pinto beans, a shank ham bone and some ham fat. I want to slow cook them.


Looking for: what food to add, what spices to add, temperature and times on the different temperatures.


I can probably cut chunks of ham and put them in there too. What do you guys think?



These beans are two years old, does that make a difference?


Update: back burner switch

Update: back burner switch



Taken July 21, 2016, in a hat I bought for six dollars at a thrift store.


I started this blog site, From my Head to Yours, at the urging of several reasons; to learn how to allocate time to write on a daily basis, maybe get my name out there a little and to practice my new craft.


When I started it, I put my novel on the back burner. I have decided it’s time to get back to my soon to be best seller 😊 and put the blog on the back burner.


However, I’m still going to continue with my short stories, but not everyday. The postings will drop back to 2 or 3 a week. I thoroughly enjoy my interactions with everyone here and love writing. When I finish my prose I will return in earnest.


My novel is fashioned after my published short story Family Doctor.



My eyeball in 2015, taken by my optometrist.

Poetry by Jim: She left us

Poetry by Jim: She left us

a month has gone by
she’s still gone a way
not a trace nor a lie
it hurts less everyday

no call, text or knock
not a sound she gave
she left us in shock
when she went a way

empty souls at nightfall
left us three all alone
tears seep before they fall
abandoned to the bone

that was then
forty years ago
no answers again
we still don’t know


by Jim McDonald