Recently I’ve overheard people intending to say, “six of one, half a dozen of the other.” However, I feel like I’m overhearing Ricky talking to Lucy when trying to decipher some of the interpretations. I’ve heard “dozen one, half dozen the other” among many other mixups. However, as sayings are a vital part of the Southern culture, I thought this would be a good time to explain the actual saying, as well as the meaning.
A dozen equals 12. So, half of a dozen equals six. The idiom of “six of one, half a dozen of the other” is saying that the two choices are the same. If a person says this saying, they’re saying that either way is fine or the same.
Y’all may or may not recall this post where I talk about my love of Pottery Barn (as well as why I have stepped back from it). Clearly Pottery Barn isn’t the problem. The products are designs I truly love. The problem was my need for it and the “perfect life” it represented.
I get asked all too often if we dress in Sunday best for dinner at our house.
No, we don’t. Knowing which fork to use doesn’t make you a good person. Feeding others with what you have, does.
My kids love the dirt and mud. They ride in their battery-powered Jeep giggling and yelling. They trapse mud through the house in an effort to get to the bathtub. Our house is pier and beam and, thus, moves. My stomach is no where near where I want it to be. Neither are my hips. Neither are the bags under my eyes.
I forget to call or text friends back. I get overwhelmed. We are so very real and so very far from perfection. However, I walk the line where I refuse to glorify failure and false expectations of being perfect. I refuse to glorify not doing our best. I will never accept any person in my family not trying his or her best self. And still…perfection will never be obtained.
This has been hard for me to accept and to understand in today’s society where success is measured in the amount of time you spend simply being busy. Even when we’re with our family, we’re often not really there. This is what I will not accept for myself. While I will never be THE best, I can be my best. And that’s enough.
So, I hope you will find this blog authentically real and motivating. I never want anyone to feel defeated by different etiquette rules. As always, thank you for reading and for your support. 🙂
My granny was known for her sweet tooth. There was never a day in her home that we weren’t offered dessert after every meal. This was the lady who added sugar to my bowl of Lucky Charms. 😉 And she oozed sweetness. There will never be another one like her, and I’m thankful to have several of her “recipes.” I use that term loosely because she rarely measured, but today I’m very happy to share the first recipe of hers I remember making.
My granny loved peaches. In fact, the jarred vanilla peaches from Atwoods were some of her favorites. She always had canned peaches at home, and it was from this very simple ingredient that she was able to create a favorite dessert of mine – easy peach cobbler.
In a 9×13 pan, melt a stick of butter in a 350 degree oven. While it’s melting, combine 1 cup of flour, 1/2 teapsoon of baking powder, 1 cup of sugar, 1 cup of milk and a dash of salt. After the butter has melted, pour the flour mixture on top of the butter. Add two cans (16 ounces each) of sliced peaches in syrup on top. As if that weren’t sweet enough, sprinkle on sugar and cinnamon before baking in the oven for about 45-50 minutes. Delicious every time.
I’m thrilled to share receipes with you, and I can’t wait to hear from each of you about your favorite recipe. Please feel free to share them at firstname.lastname@example.org.