I Hate Black Eyes and Black-Eyed Peas



Whoops. Not these Black Eyed Peas.
Though I'm not really crazy about them
either. (Anyone catch the Super Bowl?)

I was born and raised in the South. So one would think I would have that inherent taste for the classic side dish of good old black-eyed peas. Truth be told, I hate them. Should I feel shame? Perhaps I should have been banned from the region and booted far north of the Mason-Dixon Line years ago.


It’s quite the southern tradition to consume a hearty helping of black-eyed peas every New Year’s Day. How does it go? Drop a dime in the pot, and whoever spoons it out of the seemingly delectable dish experiences good luck for the coming year. I wonder – if I am so fortunate to spoon out the coin, do I actually have to eat those little turd-looking things to enjoy the good tidings?



Yes, these are the
black-eyed peas that I hate.

 Actually, my preference lays with the “good luck” New Year’s dish of the North – sauerkraut. GASP! I couldn’t possibly be a (gulp) Yankee at heart? Must be some of those recessive genes passed on from my parents’ Michigan roots. I prefer to think it’s my German heritage. There’s nothing like a good goetta sandwich piled with sauerkraut on rye bread, smothered with mustard or maybe loads of Thousand Island dressing. Mmmmm good! It’s my favorite at the Oktoberfest Zinzinnati (though they normally serve on a bun instead of rye. Prefer the rye, but the massive quantities of Warsteiner, Erdinger and Spaten make up for it.) For those not familiar with goetta, it’s pork and oats slop, native to Cincinnati. Okay, it didn’t come from Germany, but the Germans who settled here threw the concoction together so they get credit for it. If you’re really interested (and you should be because goetta is de-lish), visit www.goetta.com. But hey, I’m off track here. I was talkin’ black-eyed peas. Still hate them.

Now here comes the big transition, meaning I’m about to segue from one topic to a completely different topic that has absolutely nothing to do with the subject from which I was just addressing. (Sound weird? The editor in me abhors ending a sentence with a preposition. While I concede that it is common, it’s not kosher.) Transitions are always a challenge to good writers, but I personally like creating them. I find them to be the most interesting part of writing. How does one go about making a smooth connection between two completely disparate topics?

What was I talking about? Black-eyed peas? Okay, let’s give this transition thing a try.

Speaking of black….

Yes, speaking of black, I also hate black eyes. Not the kind that one might get in a bar room brawl, but the kind that surface in spite of my best behavior. Damn dark circles under my eyes won’t go away. Does anybody know how to get rid of them? Over the last couple of years, I’ve had more than my share of friends comment to me that I “looked tired.” Honestly, there was a good reason for that. I was tired. Three kids, going to school, work. Hell yes I was tired. And I started to notice my raccoon eyes and chalked it up to fatigue and stress. But being between jobs (or in a time of “transition,” as one friend deemed it), the activity level is manageable and things are not quite so crazy. (Although I have found that the familiar stress has been replaced with a worse sort of stress, stemming from uncertainty. That’s bad for a control freak like me!)

Turns out I’m not tired. Just old. Now how do I get rid of these circles without paying big bucks (that I don’t have) to a cosmetic surgeon who would inject God-knows-what  into my sunken sockets? I’ve read all the internet solutions. I’ve tried the creams. When I apply the creams, they don’t “illuminate” but just make the circles look shinier. I drink water. I’m getting plenty of sleep. I’ve started taking vitamins. And in the meantime, I’ve started to cover them up the best I can with tons of concealer, “veils” and makeup. Perhaps I’m being self-conscious, but even after applying my makeup I still see those dark circles, the only difference being that they have a bunch of makeup caked onto them.

Me (Zeekie) -- March 2011. At least my nose is perky.

Haven’t tried cucumber slices yet. (Didn’t Mrs. Drysdale once do that on The Beverly Hillbillies? Or was it Mrs. Bellows on I Dream of Jeannie? Hmmm. Both of those ladies looked kinda old.) What else? Anybody? I’m desperate. Not that I’m trying to avoid the aging process. I’m cool with a few wrinkles. I figure by this point in my life I’ve earned them. A few gray hairs (if I had any, wink wink) would be easy enough to manage also (though I prefer to refer to them as hair strands without pigment). However, cute as one might be, I just don’t want to look like a raccoon.

‘Nuf said here, unless you have the treatment for dark circles. Then contact me.

Next column: The relation between Islamophobia in America and self-loving Southerners and their grits. Don’t like grits either. But when I get around to writing this one, it’s sure to be a hell of a transition!