Category Archives: Editorial

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Bravo Zulu

I just got my first one ever from a former Navy man who is the son of a deceased fleet Captain (USN, Ret.) who married us ten years ago. Yes, we went to the burial at Annapolis and his dear wife of 63 years got to meet the Secretary of the Navy.

I called the Coast Guard on themselves. There was a ship burning at sea and I called it in. Yesterday they had impressive exercises with ships and helicopters right offshore. I did not call it in because evidently it was an exercise.

AJ II taught AJ III well, plus his brothers and me, their unofficial sister after 18 years with the family. It is an honor to hear Bravo Zulu for my heads-up effort to save a ship a few miles off shore that was on fire. Little did I know that it was a Coast Guard exercise. I’m sure “mom” will get a chuckle out of that.

Perhaps residents with a birds’ eye view of the lake that sunk the Edmund Fitzgerald know that we’re looking out and will call for help if needed, and thank you USCG! And Navy, Marines and all y’all who allow us to live free and safe. Dee

Seasonal Food

I do love seasons yet miss my mystery basket I used to get delivered to our door every week in our former home. It challenged me to cook with the most seasonal ingredients from local farms.

It is interesting that in the winter one craves fresh peas and asparagus, and in a cool summer I’m already thinking about winter stews.

I’ve decided to help a small grocery open a meat department. The owner agrees with my assumptions that their clientele includes mainly students on a strict food budget, and adults who can afford steak every night. The solution I’ve proposed is several recipes for students (they’re on their own for high-end meats) and making sure they have all the ingredients to make it easy.

My suggestions are: Mom’s Cheesy Meatloaf with sharp cheddar chunks and ketchup; skirt steak with chimichurri (they’d have to make the sauce and sell it separately or with the steak because these kids don’t have food processors); and for special occasions a whole roasted chicken with simple bread stuffing. I think I forgot one, I gave it to him on a post-it note yesterday and didn’t keep a copy. [No way I’m going there now as it’s pouring with very close thunder and lightning yet the forecast called for 80 degrees and decreasing clouds. There were blue skies at 6:30 this morning! Hmm, I’ll have to check with the weatherman on site.]

They’d have to market their new department and print up my recipes to place on the butcher counter to make student shopping easy. Maybe even package it with all the ingredients. Perhaps even give out a small container of chimichurri for the first week with the meat until they become addicted. Otherwise I’ll have to do a “serve with” guide and make sure they have everything on hand.

Wait, I just came up with another one! Slice a local sausage and saute it with onion and bell pepper, add a little tomato sauce. Cook some pasta and serve. Carbonara is a great pasta dish as well. Bacon, eggs, cheese and pasta. I think I’ll have to do a cooking class.

Whole Foods/Whole Paycheck is in the neighborhood and they won’t be able to compete with the WF new dry-aged beef but if they start small and don’t freeze meat, they may just turn a profit. Heck, half the store seems to be beer, I never go down those aisles. I guess a beer town needs its beer and students are a willing audience! Keep thinking, and cooking. Dee

Traffic Safety

I just ran the numbers. There are two bright yellow signs indicating a crosswalk by where we live, a place where motorists regularly speed to gain access to a major road that leads to highways.

For six months I’ve been trying to get the road striped and they wouldn’t do it because the city owns one sidewalk and the county the other and they’re misaligned. A woman was killed on the next street on Sunday. They made the curb cut the other day and today they have orange and white flashers ready to go when the trucks come to install the new curb ramp and paint the lines.

Way to go, Dee! But I just ran the numbers and they are alarming for an urban place that prides itself on fining jaywalkers (supposedly zero tolerance) but cares not about pedestrians who actually walk to a designated crosswalk then look both ways for traffic and are nearly run over by drivers doing 50 in a 30.

I’ve lived here for 18 months and walk my old hip-less dog across that street at the crosswalk four times per day. That’s 18 times 30 times four, that equals 2,160 times I’ve crossed there.

Three cars have stopped for me. One, a guy who recognized me. Another a few weeks ago but the guy behind him didn’t like that he stopped so gunned it into the opposite lane and came in 2′ behind us so that doesn’t count. Today, I checked both ways but peeked out because there were parked cars blocking my view. The driver stopped and I waved a thank-you.

The percentage of drivers who have stopped for me and Zoe over an 18 month period is .0925. Less than 1%. People are congratulating me on getting a real crosswalk, and in the same breath they wonder if anyone will really stop. It is a sad commentary on urban life that as a pedestrian I feel safer in NYC, San Diego, Houston and other large cities.

Unfortunately, I think this is a dying city, with high unemployment, and people are angry. Angry people drive angrily, lay on the horn, and threaten pedestrians trying to cross legally at crosswalks. I’ve written letters to the editor and half of several hundred blame pedestrians for trying to cross the street!

My solution is to police the most dangerous crosswalks in the city, including ours. If we take the police off jaywalkers and assure pedestrian safety by encouraging jaywalkers to walk an extra fifty feet to cross safely, we’ll have fewer pedestrian deaths and end the jaywalking problem. Plus, the kicker, the City will get revenue from stopping dangerous drivers. Zoe says it’s a win win situation. Dee

Careers

I’ve always thought of fun things to do as a career. My first, age 11, was helicopter pilot. As I sit at my desk I’m watching a Coast Guard exercise. A few weeks ago they set a ship on fire way off the coast, and it went out almost immediately. Then it flared up again and I called the Coast Guard… on the Coast Guard.

They’re having this one close to shore, and their helo pilots are incredible. I’ve seen the winds pick up to 60 mph out of nowhere and they just hang there outside our windows like there’s no wind at all for an hour, herding in all the ships stuck at sea and towing some in.

We had a substitute teacher for a few weeks who was a pilot and I ended up with all the schematics and control panel diagrams for several helicopters back in the day. My husband still threatens to get a private plane and have me train as a pilot as well but those days are over.

I always wanted to name the colors of crayons or paint. Crayons because Mom would never let me get the 64-box and “burnt sienna” was my favorite color. Paint because how many kinds of white can you have including ecru and eggshell? It’s a challenge.

At one time I actually wanted to become a lawyer. Thank goodness I talked myself out of that one. I’d be the best Mom on campus, I know that, and everyone would want me in their study group because I’d bring hors d’oeuvres.

Politician? Not so much. I’ve worked for them and many deserve the reputation of being voted lower in public confidence than used car salesmen. Plus, I’d never put my family through that.

Political commentator, public activist and volunteer leader. I’ve done all those, still do (wink wink, nudge nudge) and enjoy it.

Mom, I wanted to be one but it’s too late for me on that score. Dog Mom, I do very well. Cat Mom as well but my husband is deathly allergic to cats so I await a farm house where the strays all come to me and I get them spayed/neutered and give them good food and provide outdoor shelter for storms and cold weather. My own cat house, what a concept. Heated floors, fresh water and plentiful food.

Chef, I like my own kitchen and have even made a food snob of my husband, whose idea of food was individually wrapped string cheese before he met me. Now he asks how many years the cheddar should be aged. I can teach cooking but it takes much time and effort and in the end I feel as if I’m making $1/hr.

Surfer. There’s one I tried in my teens and never mastered. First off, I was on the wrong coast, kids from school showed up on our doorstep 1,000 miles from home and brought boards.

Dancer. Sounds easy, but is very difficult. Ballet taught me to do gymnastics (bad at it) and lead our team and teach. Balance.

Team lead of anything. That I can do, and love to do. Coaching and inspiring people to be their best is what I do.

Writer. I try. My husband wants me to write a novel, anything but a cookbook. I see this as a success because over 60,000 people have read this blog and I overcame a fear of writing. If in grade school, high school or college I could write 500 words in ten minutes I’d have always been at the top of the class, thanks to Mom and Aunts L and J. Now it’s fun. Only you are grading me.

Think about what you’d like to do and don’t say food critic. That means you eat great food for free, then complain about it. It’s why that was not on my list. Mangia bene. Dee

The Right One

Looking for the right one was a song I always loved, by Art Garfunkel of the famed duo. They are fantastic together but seem to have very different tastes in music and that can be good.

Twelve years ago I found the right one and we married. Nine years ago we got a dog so I’ve two right ones that I’m about to go see momentarily.

When you marry, make sure you get the right one, even if it takes 20 years it’s worth not marrying a jerk and getting a divorce. I almost agreed to get married right out of college but I didn’t know myself yet so needed to figure out jobs and living on my own, so called it off after three weeks. I took a car, bus, train and cab for 13 hours to do this and he held me for a weekend and made a call to my parents (he’d asked my Dad if he could marry me and told me his plans and Dad said OK) to let them know what I was trying to do to him.

Dad said that he would support any decision I made. It’s not the day he held me for the first time, the time he forgave me for getting tar off his car with steel wool, it is that day that will always stay in my mind.

Why? I waited and did not date for years. Then, all of a sudden I met my prince. At TGIFridays at lunch, just after 9/11. He took my hand and after nearly 12 years has never let go.

As an old married lady I can tell you to wait for the right one. Your heart will go pitter-pat every time he walks in the door. And if you marry you get to nag about socks on the floor. You still have to wash them.

I found the right one and love my husband and the dog we’ve had for over nine years. I have to thank Art Garfunkel for part of that, for all those years, Dee

Names

Years ago I was staff to a committee with myriad responsibilities. It included everything from legislative ethics (an oxymoron) to veterans, cable television, Native American land claims, pre-ADA, fire codes, sexual orientation et al.

It was a huge committee and I was glad they brought in a Vietnam vet to create his own committee and take that off my back. No, not to take it off me but give veterans more due than I could with my work load. Thank you for your service to our country.

I was also responsible for flag law (raise the flag briskly and lower it ceremoniously) and for naming days of commemoration. We did not try to make these days into holidays, except for Martin Luther King Day when friends from the office drove to DC overnight and we heard Coretta Scott King speak and we all sang “Freedom” in the AME church.

Perusing that law this evening, it shows no bounds. I remember that over six of my years there we designated three: Haym Solomon for funding our Revolutionary War and gaining the USA independence; Raoul Wallenberg for his extraordinary efforts against Hitler’s world domination; and Taddeus Kosckiuzsko who made his mark in Poland and Belarus and came to us to save us during the Revolutionary war.

Many names save me every day, mentor me, try to hurt me or just make me strive to be better, but these names I had engraved in legislative whatever, so that they’re in the books but no one will know them. You can even look them up online now. Imagine that. Back in the day I had to write everything on paper and have it typed.

I hasten to say that during my years there were no women mentioned. Now there seem to be a few, including Susan B. Anthony, go girls! Dee

All the Kids Can Play

Before I was eight, all the neighbors would come and call on my Dad to come out to play, either touch football or softball. He would say “after dinner” but more importantly, he said “everyone gets to play.”

While we kids were always competitive with each other, at school and in the workplace one thing sticks with me the most: teamwork.

You’re only as good as your team. If you hire inferior people to make you feel more important, you should lose. The better the team, the better you are, who cares if someone is smarter than you or another has better ideas.

A few years ago I watched the first Top Chef Masters when the masters had to choose sous-chefs. During the few moments allowed for menu planning, there were two styles at play, one that invited collaboration, camaraderie and a buy-in for success, and one a top-down brigade style. Guess who won? Teamwork.

I married my husband because I knew he was ethical, moral and a good judge of character. I knew he’d be a team-builder and that he is, as well as a mentor to younger folks. He is brilliant, I mean it, and loves to meet and work with people he believes are smarter and more talented in certain areas. It challenges him and makes him better at what he does.

On the other side, his mother believes I should be on the ground helping to bring down his balloon. She doesn’t know that I’m up there looking at the ground below and seeing new landscapes with him. This lifetime partnership is sealed because as he is very tall, he can reach things in cabinets over the refrigerator, and I can look for things he needs from under counters.

He grew up on a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere. I grew up in a house nearby a dairy in the middle of nowhere. My sister and I had a softball team with our two buddies from 1/4 mile away. Tons of ghost men and we played every day. If kids can create ghost players, then all the kids can play.

I’ve run teams and volunteers for a lifetime and what I can tell you is is that all the kids can play. Thank you for teaching me that, Dad. I always thank my team and you’re first as you’ve been there for me forever. Dee

How Big is the Pizza?

A college kid (me) asked that once. “Eight slices.” I asked again, for the table, how big is the pizza? Eight slices.

Student money is hard to come by and I knew that eight slices of an eight-inch pizza was different than eight from a 20″ that would feed all of us. It all worked out.

Now I’m wondering if my dog thinks she has more food if I slice/chop it smaller, or whether she’s asking for pizza by the slice.

Think about it. Cheers from Dee and the Hip-Less Wonder Dog Zoe

They Sleep

peacefully, and think not of tomorrow. I wake and think about whatever I can to make tomorrow a better day.

If I could be Mary Poppins, I’d talk about tuppence, (two pence, or pennies) to feed the birds.

Instead my husband and dog sleep and I wonder how to care for and protect them every day, as we’ve been together for over a decade. My dearest husband doesn’t know that my job is to protect him and our old mutt as he thinks he’s protecting us.

Let them sleep. My husband takes care of me every day, and so does our mutt. I love them so much it hurts. Mary Poppins is with us. The umbrella may be a problem but her spirit is here above us. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I didn’t even contact Julie Andrews for that and, of course The Sound of Music.

Dream. Please find your dream, kids, and do your best to make it come true. Remember that it starts with the basics, Do re mi fa so la ti and go back to do.

Let them sleep. Dee

Bed

For her entire life our dog Zoe has loved sleeping. We’ve had her since she was six weeks old, and had to take out her hips as a pup but she grew her own and can corner around a tree faster than any retriever.

She herds us, which is why she likes the bed or being under the bed, under my pillow. Of course I take her out during the week, but on weekends I take her out, feed her early and place her back on the bed with my dear husband.

She stays close to me because I’m her “food wench.” Yesterday she came up between pillows and placed her entire spine against mine just to prevent me from leaving without her. She hasn’t done that in a while. She stands by the door when I leave to get groceries.

Herders are interesting creatures. Years ago I lent some boys an AKC breed book so they could look for the best kind of dog that fit their family. They chose a Jack Russell Terrier and named him “Sparky.” If living with a herder makes doing laundry difficult (being in the path) those kids are probably now in college and heaven knows how Mom is doing with old terrier Sparky.

The kids came to my door and returned my book, and introduced me to their new dog the day he was brought home. I’d told them when they were younger to not get into the tot lot because they were climbing fences and there was a lot of rebar as the tot lot was refurbished. They hated me.

A couple of years later I caught them in the home of a meth dealer and summoned them all to my yard because she was giving them expensive gifts. I said do not ever deal with this woman again. If I see you there I know where you live and will tell your mother.

When my dog died suddenly, the kids in the tot lot did not call out her name as they did every afternoon. Instead, I ran into the boys who’d hated me years before and told the younger one, who really loved my dog, that she had died.

We went behind the bushes and the dear boy, perhaps eight years old, cried but made me tell him exactly how she died. We spent a few moments together and I told him to tell his older brother and friends that I yelled at him for something to explain the tears.

After a year of marriage we adopted a dog from a shelter. Ten years later everyone knows her name. She was a sleeper then, but certainly no-one can interrupt her beauty sleep now. As it is after midnight, I wish I could sleep with no concerns. By now she’s already taken my pillow.

It’s OK, I’m not that tired. Big day tomorrow. I’ve changed the coleslaw and will let you know how it turns out and give you the recipe. Dee