Here I am, back with my 2nd post under the real me. Belva (Jane)
must be a difficult name to say because people were always giving
me nick-names. Manzanita, Manzi, BJ, Bea Jay, hey you. I went
along and didn't really care, but I want my real name on my obit.
My father-in-law called me "Velvet" all his life, thinking that was
my name. I didn't mind because it kinda sounded like a stripper
and gave me an edge of the risque burlesque.
Most of you already know the great emphasis I place on food as
being a healer. I've noticed all the vids on YT that sing the praises
of healing almost "everything" with apple cider vinegar and baking
"Holy Kamoly," I shouted out, "that was my grandfather's drink.'
Every night, as far as I knew, he went out to the kitchen to have his
Brrrusha (roll the R. I don't know the spelling.....it was German).
As soon as I heard him, I'd pad bare-footed, out to the kitchen, in
Fill a tall glass half-with water. Add about a tb. of A. C Vinegar and
a teeny bit of sugar.
Add a tsp. of B. Soda and stir. He'd stand over the sink because
it would fizz up over the glass and he'd drink fast. The best part, it
would involuntarily bring up one, two or three huge burps. He'd
always make a small one for me too. I can imagine the profile we
must have made against the
dim light of a kerosene lamp. A slightly withered old man and
a toddler standing on a chair, each giving out loud belches, looking
at one another and laughing.
I'll bet you a buck that you can't drink a Brrusha, exactly as I
described, without ending it with burps. Any takers? Don't be
afraid of it as it may do you some good. Grandpa lived to see