Category Archives: Editorial

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What Would Michelangelo Buanarotti Think?

Cardinals do not know to whom to pray, so go to the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican in order to elect the next pope because a master, Michelangelo, defined it for them. Perhaps it shows all the Christians think that there is birth, death, and many stories in between. Perhaps a deity.

I have never been Catholic. Yes, I was baptised, and had my holy communion. I had questions about the church early on. I didn’t know about other religions yet or about how to question faith or the existence of God.

Today in the background the Sistine Chapel is about to close for conclave and I am in tears, because this is a venerable exercise where every eligible cardinal swears to be true to the new pope. In my sarcasm, I wonder why they deny Cardinals over age 80 to vote but still be in their current posts.

I must give thanks to my favorite fathers of the Roman Catholic Church, who guided me through college, both Franciscans: Fr. John (deceased) and Fr. Cap.

A nun told me at age six that because my mother had the flu and didn’t drive us to church I was doomed to hell (a mortal, not venial sin). Imagine telling that to a little kid. I went to public school, because it was a small village and the public school was better. We still had to walk to church school once a week and go to Mass on Sundays. Now I have to thank neighbor Gil.

Then, through a twist of fate I went to a liberal arts college that turned out to be Franciscan and I started to go to church again, occasionally, and even started to go downtown to the one of the last Latin masses in our town.

The last Cardinals are taking the oath now and one is from my new town, never knew we had a Cardinal here.

I have a prayer: May this unprecedented incident of the Pope’s resignation and his continued existence not influence or undermine this Conclave; May a worthy person take this seat; May the serious flaws in judgment and management, especially of sexual abuse, be remedied in all ways possible; and may the Church finally recognize the role of women as Priests and more reproductive freedom for faithful Catholics.

Yes, I’ve thought a lot about God and religion over many years and find they have little to do with each other. Certain aspects of this election do intrigue me, however, because that’s how I grew up. The priest would not allow my parents to marry (my father was a Lutheran) until he relinquished religious care to my mother.

It’s interesting that the talking heads say this sounds “political” but it cannot be because it’s somewhat “godly” because everything is politics, everywhere. Even you work at a convenience store, it’s all politics. In nominus patri, Dee

Wants and Needs

I want my husband to return home, and our dog to sleep past 5:00 in the morning. I want to wear my Nadia croc boots to deal with melting snow and ice and the correct jacket for the weather when we go out for our first and second morning walks.

I need for my husband and Zoe’s (the dog) “dad” to come home so she keeps from stalking me and protecting me every moment of every day he’s away.Also a few hours to make chile to have with our former neighbors or give them some to go home with after a water leak has kept them from their home for several days.

Safe journey, my dear. The little one is still getting her beauty sleep and it’s about time I re-joined her for mine. With love, Dee

Gifts

I packed a suitcase and hanging bag for my husband, who left to speak at a conference today. I walked him to the car and came right back and informed our dog that I was going to the grocery store to get her food and she tried to run away from home. She only made it to the elevator. Her message is that you don’t get up, pack a bag and leave me here alone. Of course she is a herder, Aussie X.

Late afternoon my dearest love, husband of ten years and a man who has not packed a suitcase in 11.5 years, called to tell me he got there OK. Not only that…..

He hung all the clothes in the closet and put everything else into drawers in the hotel room.

Women, take note. It took less than twelve years to achieve this transformation from clean pile/dirty pile to actually unpacking for two nights. He’ll be cooking for me in another decade or two. His mother (we talked for two hours last night) says that will wait until he retires. By that time I’ll probably be in the retirement home sipping boxed chicken broth through a straw.

I’m always made fun of for unpacking into hotel drawers and closets immediately after arriving, but it does have a purpose. I packed his bag yesterday morning and it was like a Cecil B. DeMille movie gone bad, where the bathing beauties didn’t dive into the pool every 1/4 second and didn’t exactly swim in a synchronized fashion.

Now J has his phone charger and everything else where he needs them. I’m so proud. Just to let you know, I only have a mild version of this disease. My dear Aunt actually re-arranges furniture and wall hangings in hotel rooms. She went to a museum and got a print to tape over my mother’s hospital room picture because the morphine was giving Mom nightmares which that particular picture exacerbated.

I can’t wait until he starts doing the laundry and cleaning out the frig. A wife can dream, can’t she? Y’all have a great day. It’s 5:30 and I think I’ll get the flashing collar and take out the dog because she’s herding me again. Some things never change. Dee

Ideal Home

Of course it has a view, of water or mountains. If it’s 6,000+ above sea level it has a whole-house humidifier and a generator that kicks in when the power is out. Also a heated garage and driveway.

It is built around the kitchen, that has several “appliance garages” with up-swinging doors and electric power. Plus niches for cookbooks and other stuff. It has a proper butler’s pantry with more electrical power and a cold surface for pastry-making (not that I make pastry). It has a ventilated door that does not allow the dog entry. Plenty of space for china, glassware, linens. Perhaps hide a microwave in there for bacon.

The kitchen itself is open to the living/family room and dining room and has space to store many pots and pans. Gas stove, electric ovens (one convection). Salamander? Professional grade stove and refrigerator. Anything but marble. Another refrigerator in the garage and a good chest freezer in the garage (for dog food, of course). Double-sided fireplace open to dining/living area that defines the space.

There are comfy stools on the opposite side of the island, plus an eat-in-kitchen so guests can participate in conversation and perhaps help out for five minutes.

Small office (alcove, no door) off the kitchen for me and my cookbooks and laptop, with a view and hidden file storage for all my work. I need to know when something is ready, burning or boiling over and this will avoid the last two, that happens seldom anyway but when it does it is spectacular.

Larger office with door for my husband on the other side of the living area. Of course there is a bath off my husband’s office and another powder room for guests. Hidden refrigerator in office with ice maker and Dr. Pepper.

Family room, three bedrooms with en suite baths. Master has incredible shower, whirlpool tub, double sinks, European toilet and heated floors, as well as a towel rack that is heated by the water that goes to the shower. Laundry is upstairs. Large, front-loading machines.

There is a cold pantry somewhere, and a beehive wood oven outside. Knot herb garden plus raised beds for veggies and tomatoes. Also a guest suite with two bedrooms that sleeps six, with bath and small kitchen. These are green houses, that will capture light and water where we can, grow veggies, all under floor heating. Bamboo, anyone?

This is just off the top of my head, at 5:30 in the morning. We can all dream, right? All I’m really saying is that I’d like a place where family and friends can visit, and where elderly parents can stay comfortably. Retractable glass doors that open the entire living area to a heated deck (propane umbrella tanks) are an option……. Dee

Kindergarten Chic

Early this morning after I took the dog out, twice as always, I went on an errand a few blocks away for my husband. En route it started snowing softly, and now big-time. Winds are whistling and it’s snowing sideways and raining straight down, if one can imagine that.

I was supposed to complete this errand Monday but they’d not processed it. This morning I walked about eight blocks to get there for pickup.

Perhaps you remember, especially if you grew up in the NE or mid-west your mother making you mittens with a string that went through your coat. I’ve one better, My Auntie L made woolen balaclavas that only showed our eyes and we could pull it up over our noses.

To walk eight blocks I wore, bottom up, Sketchers suede shoes with great traction on the ice, SmartWool socks (new ones with pattern that are very comfortable), nylon workout pants, Pipeline plaid ski pants to go with…

a cotton camisole, a polar tec anorak from Tiso bought in Scotland when we were there, an 800 fill Marmot ski jacket and a polar tec vest atop that. Plus wool cap (thanks Doug in Park City) and microfiber gloves, orangy-red, to go with cap, scarf (made by Auntie L in pinks and orangy-reds and gloves). It is not that cold or I would’ve gone with the fur Cossack hat and waterproof gloves and perhaps snow boots. I don’t know, living in the cold has allowed us to expand our repertoire to include everything from rain to snow to ice and beyond. Think Buzz Lightyear. To Infinity……… and Beyond!

When I arrived there I was about to say that if our order was not ready yet again, I would cancel it or they would have to deliver. For fun, I brought the new signature Gucci Museo bag from my father in which to carry my wallet and other items. It was my little inside joke to myself being dressed as a kindergartner off on the first snowy day.

Then, I didn’t want to dress for it. Now it takes time, especially when the dog takes me out multiple times a day but I know how to stay warm, and dry. When I grew up it was all wool. Now I check the weather online and find out temperature and wind speed and instantly know what high tech layers to don.

We do not yet have the leather face masks they use in the arctic to prevent noses from freezing and falling off, but will do so if we ever go there. Stay warm and dry and watch those winds. Cheers! Dee

Meeting My Husband for Lunch

My husband and I saw a documentary on the building and refurbishment of Grand Central Station over the weekend. I can’t tell you how many trains I’ve taken to and from there over the years.

When I was encouraged to take a car service from my office two blocks from Grand Central I knew we’d encounter horrific traffic downtown so preferred the 4 or 5 express subway train. It saved so much time and no-one saw me drive up in the car anyway.

After meetings, I’d return on the subway and back then there was a bar upstairs off Lexington. I’d sit at a table and sip a cup of Earl Grey Tea before going back to the office while watching people on the main floor. One of my favorite movie moments is in The Fisher King where Grand Central’s main floor becomes a ballroom and everyone is dancing.

There is an historic restaurant I wanted my husband to see a few years back while we were visiting NYC. He was working, I was working my way through the Met, MOMA, the Cloisters and more. He was new to NYC and felt like a groundhog popping up from a subway station for any destination I’d planned for him to see, so we decided to meet for lunch.

I showed up a few minutes early, thinking they’d have me wait until my husband showed up to seat us. No, I was taken up on a dais and seated at a fine table, way better than sitting at the counter when I was single.

Ten minutes later my husband showed up. On my right was an “escort” with her date. On my left was a gal in the lower echelons with her date. The restaurant host thought I was a girl of questionable repute and that my husband was my date for the afternoon. Go figure.

All y’all who know me know I do not dress provocatively. So “I’m meeting my husband for lunch” is code and we were all on display.

My husband suggested moving tables. I said no. This is too good. No-one knows us and we can eat and overhear conversations, high and low. We spoke little as we ate our lunch and after we left, confirmed the fact that it was good to be married for several years and living a good life.

The moral of the story is to look around, see how other people are living, and thank goodness for the life you live. Years ago I once gave my gloves to a homeless man sitting on Lexington Avenue. He said “I only need a left one. Save the other to give to someone else.” I returned to my hotel in tears.

You never know who you’ll meet or overhear, or be seated by in NYC. I remedied the groundhog effect by taking my husband up to the top of the Empire State Building at night and pointing out the rivers, NJ, Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx. He got the picture but I had to tell you this funny story anyway. Have a great day! Dee

ps Oh, and the oysters were good, the ceilings and ambiance magnificent.

Service

Whether you hear it from Johnny Cash or Bob Dylan, we all have to serve someone. Whether it be the Lord or our families, we all have to do it.

The people who don’t do it are on the bottom or the top, neither think they’re responsible for anything or anyone. It is those of us in the middle who have to make up for everyone else’s failings.

We serve our companies, our bosses, our mortgage banks or landlords, electric and gas companies and more.

If we’re good we serve our spouses and children and help them thrive. We go to those games or attend spelling bees, just to make our kids happy and let them know we care.

Some of us go so far as to do regular volunteer work. Thank goodness for volunteers! I’m a volunteer trainer (a volunteer, volunteer trainer) who has done much good over the years but not lately and that hurts my heart and soul.

I’ve worked for non-profits in the bad neighborhoods and on birthdays the staffs all got together. The menfolk brought in fresh fried catfish, oysters, fries et al but the white girl never knew the secret location of this catfish stand. She never quite made “sistah.”

But I served and did what I needed to do in the community. Now my husband talks about “servant leadership” and of course we’re both in the same boat and our oars are rowing together but in different venues which is good ten years into a marriage.

I don’t recommend required government service (not a draft) at age 18. From what I’ve seen of AmeriCorps it does not make good use of the “volunteers” or of the organization used to care for them.

Instead, I’d start young. Scouts, especially when they’re out from under this cloud, sports, FFA for rural kids. If your parents won’t let you work summers after you’re 14, start now and get volunteering under your belt for college resumes and make it something you’ll love and stick with for life.

Giving back is one thing some people do instinctively. The top and bottom do not necessarily do so. OK, save Gates/Buffett major world change doings. Right now the only thing I can give is my time and perhaps a few dollars to a charitable organization of my choice.

At age 12, I got a cheap guitar (nylon strings) and started a band. We played in public at our school, three songs. CSNY’s Teach Your Children was in the mix.

So, let’s teach our children, walk that 500 miles, and serve someone. Years ago I was brought to a seer who said I was a teacher. Things are going bad in Washington with the sequester and we’re all going to get together or go separately. Serve someone. Dee

Abdication

No, I’m not really talking about the Pope. That is a delicate situation and while I am not perturbed at his pension (La Stampa, yesterday) I do believe the new Pope should send him outside Vatican City for his retirement, especially as no Pope has “retired” for over 600 years. From what I read, the new Pope will be conservative as he was probably appointed by John Paul II or Benedict XVI. I also believe that many of these Cardinals have covered up for corrupt priests over the years. Or perhaps that’s a cover for an even larger scandal to come.

Life lessons have taught me that persons who commit grievous crimes are oft sent to lofty positions where they will not pose a danger or scandal. They get to the highest positions, while those of us who obey laws and do our work are rewarded by layoffs and no raises, no cost of living increases.

That brings me (the Vulcan taught me logic) to Congress, who gave over a good portion of their job to the Executive Branch yesterday. I believe this is not in the interest of getting things done, but getting things undone.

What bothers me is that we have a representative democracy and our representatives are relinquishing it in order to jockey for position for President in 2016, What are they letting go of? US!!! Yes, the people who may have voted for them and the whole of the districts or states they represent.

We have rights as citizens and few people register or vote. Let me tell you this. The sequestration that requires immediate budget cuts affects everyone, including every staff member in Congress, except the Senators and Representatives that represent us in Washington. These so-called “representatives” also have executive health insurance for life and a pension plan we all wish for. Should they not suffer as well?

Where my husband and I grew up, the cream rose to the top, not the scum. We have three branches of government, if you look up your history books. Sometimes one borrows from the other for good purposes.

I fear this is for bad purposes and that the needs of all Americans are being thwarted by a non-existent fight (for us, the people) for President in 2016. Your representative isn’t listening to you, is not representing your views, just ceding to the executive branch to play the blame game later on.

Get in touch with your Senators and Representative. Ask about how a new law will affect you. What will happen to your retirement funds? Health care. A dead squirrel down the road from your house. Gay marriage. Equality in the workplace. Whatever rings your bell. Just do it. Ask if they’re working for you or just abdicating responsibility to another branch of government.

What goes around, comes around, and the Supremes (Court, that is) will end up deciding it and we don’t want that to happen. So VOTE! Register to vote. Keep up on the politics of Washington, your state and town. Get involved, whether it’s the PTA or local library. OK, you can think about it over the weekend. Dee

Variations on a Theme

No, I’m not Rachmaninoff, or his muse Paganini, but I took on a master. Chef, that is.

The first recipe I ever made from Mastering the Art of French Cooking was Julia Child’s French Onion Soup.

So, I broke down a five pound chicken, onion, garlic, carrots and celery and made chicken stock. The last hour I caramelized five large onions in oil and butter with salt, pepper, thyme and a bit of sugar.

I refrigerated the stock and onions separately overnight and skimmed the stock of fat today, then measured out 8 cups to heat and season while I brought the onions up in another pot and added flour to cook out.

The resulting soup needed more stock so I added perhaps another cup, then at the end, before adding 2T cognac I added 1T buerre manie to thicken it a bit more. I had to keep tasting and adding salt and pepper without reducing too much to oversalt.

I’d made toasts with salt, pepper and a drizzle of olive oil the day before, and had to try some “sharp” Wisconsin Swiss cheese on top. Soup was hot, I assembled the soup, toast, and cheese and broiled until the cheese bubbled. It was served with a salad of bitter and spring greens.

A neighbor tried a bowl and just said “Yum yum yum.” As for me, I spent over an hour caramelizing the onions and it didn’t look as good as if I’d made a beef broth. Don’t get me wrong, it tasted great, it just didn’t look like the traditional French onion soup underneath the cheese and crouton.

I generally do not like canned or boxed beef broths. I keep a box of chicken broth at all times as the non-spoiled dog has a Tbsp. at every meal, and find some OK. The veggie stocks I’d rather make myself because all the store-bought taste tinny  or are “off” in one way or another for my tastes.

Lessons learned. Tasty stock, soup, onions, croutons and Wisconsin cheese but it just didn’t feel right. Sorry, Julia. The beauty is that we all get to make mistakes. Another lesson: don’t ever try out all new recipes for an impressive dinner. Try things out beforehand, we all have family and friends as guinea pigs, but stick with something with which you are comfortable. Cheers, TGIF, Dee

Snow Removal

As Cardinals alight on trees, a hint of buds emerge on the lilac bush across the street that is lovingly tended by a neighbor who keeps her building awash in flowers, there are high winds and snow continues to fall.

Yes, my husband will be stealing my car all week because I have snow tires, as his are in storage. I am CB or confined to barracks.

Our city and county have a unique and cost-cutting approach to snow removal on local streets and sidewalks. It is called “Spring.”

“Make ’em wait, it’ll melt eventually,” is the mantra. Now when I complained that every curb ramp for ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990) was obstructed by two feet of snow the City showed up and plowed two sidewalks and three ramps. One is on a designated crosswalk, the only one in our neighborhood, but the County Parks have the other side so forget walking your dog across the street.

Even when they do plow, it looks like independent pickup trucks who do the work. Where I lived for the past few years had articulated tractors and high tech equipment that kept our roads and driveways clear. When Hartfield airport in Atlanta got snowed in, our city flew snow equipment out there to clear the runways.

This must be either a joke or a bad dream from which I cannot awaken. My husband has an early meeting and will have to leave 45 minutes to an hour before to get there in time because cars are going 3-5 miles per hour on the city streets, and who knows if they’ve even bothered to plow the highways.

Yes, Spring may happen, though not soon enough. I’ll walk to the store and take the dog out 5X somehow. It’s 6:00 a.m. and City trucks are plowing the streets for a change. High taxes, swallowed up by bureaucracy, and a dearth of corporate employers says dying town to me. I’m glad we’re paying through the nose for underground heated parking! Cheers, Dee