Category Archives: Editorial

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Agents of Change

Posted on September 6, 2012 | Leave a comment

Hello, I’m Deputy Director Dee from the DAC. Yes, the Department of Agents of Change. I can’t tell you who our director is because if I did, I’d have to kill you.

Seriously, while my husband is a nerd and I majored in what he calls a “soft skills” area of  Sociology/Psychology we are both Agents of Change.

We are brought in by organizations who think they want change. Most do not. It is a dance we do that rivals the Indianapolis City Ballet’s annual Gala. Did you get that, R, J and K? September 8th. Be there.

Many corporate and non-profit organizations know they need to change missions, mindsets, systems but few have the wherewithal to see it through.

Change is painful. It forces one to look at one’s failings and move forward. Perhaps it’s easier for me because of my background. We moved a lot, my father headed several major institutions to create change and I believe in my own philosophy of change that he influenced. Age and wisdom have entered the fray. Hey, he’s 81 and just opened a restaurant and I’m not going in that direction even given the title to this blog.

My husband of nearly ten years believes in change for other reasons. He writes code I could never understand but believes in quality work, honesty and mentoring for change. Hope I put that right, as your alarm goes off to start the day, honey.

As agents of change, when a company or non-profit decides not to change, we’re the first to go. Afterwards, they limp along and may go down as well or continue to slide into mediocrity and beyond.

It is exhilarating when the flame burns, and devastating finding out and knowing that the client never wanted to change in the first place.  This is what we live for. I’ve stayed away from it for a while but when I’m in it, I’m a pistol!

Oh no, now I’ll have organizations all over town recruiting my services! Perhaps for money. Wouldn’t that be grand. Cheers! Dee

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Rudeness, Volume 2

Posted on September 6, 2012 | 3 comments

Moving to a new town is always stressful. In the first volume I stated that people here honk their horns more than I’ve even heard in Manhattan at rush hour in the rain, and that state law says to stop at crosswalks for pedestrians but when one does, they’re yelled at by the pedestrian as in “what are YOU looking at???”

After finally finding a worthy organization that will accept perfectly good books, clothing and furnishings (others were mostly rude too as in “we don’t take that” or “get a truck”) I decided to look into volunteer opportunities.

A couple of months ago I connected with the right person at the local volunteer center and we had a great meeting and I left feeling buoyed by the thought that this town may actually need and respect volunteers.

I found one organization that has opportunities to be on the board of trustees and sent an email asking for more information. Yesterday I received an email from someone without saying the organization’s identity, demanding to know where I got her name and how I knew of volunteer opportunities. Also that by my phone number I “don’t appear to be local.” Explain even though I don’t even identify the organization I work for.

This organization has a request for information on volunteering by a new, highly skilled newcomer and this is the welcome? Welcome to our city! We’d LOVE to provide you some information on our organization so that you can volunteer your highly prized (and priced) skills for free!

I wrote back that there is no need for open hostility to newcomers or to explain the origin of the phone number I’ve had for the past ten years and that I’ll simply take my talents elsewhere.

Unfortunately I’ve already met with another person at that organization who was very kind and has given me plenty of information to read through (I’m working on it). If the boss is accusatory of newcomers, sadly I’ll have to pass.

This is a very insular town. One person explained to me that people are rude because they were born here, live here and will die here. Their immediate and extended family and high school buddies are all they need. Newcomers are not welcome. Well, that’s what we’re finding out so we’re welcoming all newcomers in our building. We have pot lucks and now I’m providing dinner for all new people on our floor.

Here’s a box of spaghetti and my homemade Bolognese sauce. Here’s a stew I made last night and some noodles to cook with it. I know you’re tired from moving all day and emptying boxes. Welcome, neighbor! If you don’t have pots or pans yet I’ll lend you some. Pay it forward.

We’re used to meeting professionals from all over the world and for us it is a joy to meet new people and learn about their lives, where they’re from, and share family recipes. When an entire town mourns its former glory yet still turns a cold shoulder to new neighbors, one wonders if it is worth living here at all.

Well, we live here. But volunteering is another story. I’m not going to sell my skills for no pay. They should be asking me for my help but they don’t want me and don’t care, so I won’t volunteer. That’s that. Not so cheery, Dee

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Bullies and Bully Pulpits

Posted on September 5, 2012 | 1 comment

I recently read about a mother who told her young daughter that if someone hit her, to hit back. That second child is no longer welcome as a friend at school. I don’t know if that’s the cost of political correctness but I do think it is the cost of the long-lost art of language.

When colleges and employers laugh at literary arts majors, that undermines our culture’s language skills, which are needed in this technological and terrorist age.

Yes, I equate bullies with potential terrorists, because if they are allowed to get away with this behavior it will continue into adulthood. Bullies are insecure so will use their tactics in the workplace and in the home. These are our home-grown terrorists. No, they don’t make bombs, they just create dysfunctional families that perpetuate the activity because the kids don’t know a better way to communicate.

My aunt is a retired English teacher. There was a dictionary in her powder room and every time I used it I had to open a page and look up a word and tell her what it meant.

When I was a child my allowance was fifty cents per week. So was my sister’s. If we called each other dumb or stupid we were docked a nickel every time. That was a candy bar. We stopped that and started talking. Of course we fought all the time but never, ever laid hands on each other. We wouldn’t even think of hitting one another.

In the end there were four siblings who ended up smart, didn’t hit each other or anyone at school. There was one incident where some boys took my winter hat off me on the bus and ripped it in half. I was sobbing so was brought to the principal’s office where I promptly identified the wrongdoers. I was eight years old and very shy.

To identify them was a watershed for me. It was short-lived (they had no phone and no principal’s note ever made it to their parents) but the kids on the bus protected me from then on. No-one ever fought, it was just made clear that this would never happen again because there were more good kids on the bus than a family of bullies.

Language skills are key. OK, if someone wants your purse and has a gun or knife, just give it to them, but it is key to teach children to talk through issues.

That’s where we get to politicians. Yes, it’s time for political ads and most are negative. If I were to want a political office, I would focus on what I could do for my neighborhood, town, city, state or country. All we hear today is how so-and-so voted against this and for huge bailouts et al.

These politicians are out at the flagpole at 3:00 ready to fight. The American people deserve better. I don’t want someone voting on budgets or health care who only wants to hurt his/her opponent publicly. I want to know their policy ideas and voting records and how they’re going to help my family.

I want someone with language skills who will state the platform, tell what party he/she is with and what will be done if elected. Is that too much to ask?

Right now I see one party that’s exclusive, one that’s inclusive and that’s been the battle for decades. I didn’t see that many years ago but then again I was only a committee analyst, never a politician.

If we don’t force change on the negative tactics of our politician wanna-be’s and incumbents, it’s We, the People, who will lose. Going for the pretty face or hard core party loyalty, gone.

Right now all these politicians who have no platform except negative attack ads on their opponent are bullies, pure and simple.

Bullying is what we teach our children every day. Let’s put a stop to it. Language skills. Thanks AL and J, my English mentors, Dee

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Harleys and Wind

Posted on August 31, 2012 | Leave a comment

I awakened at midnight due to the sound of Harley-Davidsons fifteen floors below my windows. Also the dog wanted to get back up on the bed and had to be lifted (she has no hips).

After nearly two hours the Harleys have gone, well, wherever home is during the Rally. Now it’s just fierce winds off the lake. They’re both loud.

We’re poised to do a few things this weekend, including taking advantage of a museum membership (thanks, M) and perhaps another as well. Then again, it’s Labor Day weekend, one to plan for new adventures and perhaps renew our energies (and take out and feed the dog) and definitely sleep in.

The Harleys awakened me at midnight and I have dog duty at 6-7 a.m. and that’s OK. I want hubby to sleep in. Do you know how loud Harleys are even 15 floors up?

It’s almost 2:00 a.m. and the bars must be closing. That’s a good thing. University students are back in town, our first year here so we’ll see how it goes. More Harleys. And it must be ten minutes before closing.

And the wind is fierce off the lake and escalating. Glad we have solid windows. Dogma and hubby are sound asleep, as they do through hurricanes. I’m on my own and writing. Shhh, Dee

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Enter the Shift

Posted on August 31, 2012 | Leave a comment

The Concord grapes have not even been picked and you, dear reader, are already switching off to my second-most read blog on how to find a capon. It’s like swimsuit season happening in November!

One thing I love is its predictability. Same time each year.

Should I start an Easter blog with lamb (have the perfect thing) or Christmas with Lebkuchen or my mother’s Brit feast with prime rib and Yorkshire pudding?

The numbers may matter, there’s no money in this only five years of finally being able to write and challenging myself to do so. I guess the numbers tell me what you want to read. OK.

Happy Labor Day Weekend! It’s a new year of sorts as businesses start up after the summer. Enjoy! Dee

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Water

Posted on August 30, 2012 | 1 comment

This morning I got back with the dog from running errands and went to water the plant, yes you heard it right, plant singular and there was no water. I called downstairs to see if it was a major issue and also called our water billing service and got no answer there either.

Finally I went downstairs and checked the guest restroom off the lobby. They had water so I used the facilities, waited 20 minutes in vain to talk with someone and came back upstairs to check again. Water!

Four years ago in Hurricane Ike our power came back on within 3-4 hours, probably because we were on City Hall’s grid and they needed to deal with the disaster. Others didn’t have power for at least a week or more.

But we had no water for a solid week AND had to fly out so sit at hospice as my mother was dying. There was no food, no refrigeration, no water. We had a hurricane kit, a stealth grill and refrigeration, but in order to flush the toilet my husband had to use a six-gallon container (53 lbs. each trip) down to the pool.

There was no bottled, potable water or food at any store. I think many ate tostitos and chips and maybe if they were lucky, bean dip all week.

Power is one thing, water is essential. And FEMA just made things worse, having staging areas in poor neighborhoods where people didn’t own a car, then telling them they couldn’t walk in for their snacks and two gallons of water. They actually made a natural disaster worse. See my posts on that!

It’s good to have water again. No the bill is not late. It’s due on the 1st and I’m paying online. Don’t use stamps anymore (oh, no Uncle Sam is going to tell me I’m single-handedly ruining the US Postal Service by emailing and paying our bills online!) Dee

p.s. With Hurricane Ike, my husband and dog went to sleep as the winds were picking up at 9:00 p.m. and they both slept soundly for ten hours. Once I thought we might be safe I ventured out to my computer by the windows and blogged it! Out of 150 lofts in our building only one was undamaged – ours. Someone was watching over me that night. d

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Extra Security

Posted on August 29, 2012 | Leave a comment

We were living at a downtown loft for five years. It had an extra security lock and hefty wood door. The lock was not accessible from the outside, which meant when you were inside that 1,028 s.f. Maintenance couldn’t come in when you were in the shower. That meant a lot to me.

In an “executive stay” hotel for a month in a new city, we looked for a place to live. This was shortly before we got our now-aging dog. No matter when I took a shower, whether 7 in the morning or five in the evening the maid came in.

Those intrusions and the lack of a car and walking to the grocery store and bank drove me bonkers. I went out and bought three styrofoam balls and pistachios and a hot glue gun and spent hours making a Christmas display! My husband still makes fun of me for those balls!

So the privacy lock was important, a year later, even with the herder who always keeps me safe.

One day I ran into a neighbor who’d had a baby that was now walking and they needed a bigger place so they were moving up to our floor. Their dog, Kat, was upset and barking at the movers so I offered to take her for a couple of hours to calm down and be out of the way (I took care of everyones’ dogs back then and no-one reciprocated). I took her leash and brought her into our home and immediately took Kat and Zoe out for a walk, which went well.

I also volunteered to take care of our neighbor’s dog, Shiner, at lunchtime. He was a Katrina rescue and a sweetie and I had their key so that if there was a thunderstorm (there were many severe storms and perhaps a hurricane on its way today) I would get him and he would burrow under my pillows, so sad.

Shiner and I went out for eight minutes. When I got back, I took him home and went next door and was locked out.

We had levered doors and Zoe knew how to get out, from a dear sitter who was injured taking care of another dog. People would just find her in the hallways and take her back to P’s when we were out of town.

I didn’t have my cell phone so went down to the office and said “I’m locked out.” They handed me the master key and asked me to have it back promptly. “No, I’m locked out.”

Two hours later, with the office and maintenance staff laughing at me for two years, they drilled through the door using measurements made from Shiner’s door (because I still had his key) and I had a privacy lock accessible with one key to both locks.

Kat was tall enough that when Zoe tried to open the door, she mimicked Zoe and flipped the privacy lock from the inside. So, the only door in the building with two visible locks, was ours. Which hopefully is helping the current resident with the sledge hammer incidents.

Poor J. This wonderful handyman spent over two hours trying to get me back in. I even suggested a lift to break a window and get in. No, he drilled and Zoe and Kat were fine and I’m sure this has made a good story for years. Dee The Dog Lady was locked out by the dogs. All’s well that ends well. Dee

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Safety

Posted on August 29, 2012 | 3 comments

Years ago, my husband and I lived in a downtown loft in a huge city. We had an extra privacy lock, that’s another story perhaps. But I always felt safe. The access doors were problematic. The skateboarders had no problem at all accessing the gated garage and skating it, to the horror of drivers trying to get to their floor and park.

And I knew exactly what to do at every access door when, regularly, my fob wouldn’t work. I pushed this one, pulled the other and was able to successfully get my dog and groceries safely home, Then we moved and someone started taking a sledge hammer to individual loft doors. Glad we’re no longer there!

Now we’re in a new city and have had car break-ins for the past week or so. I have a Magellan that was bought for under $80, a refurb, five years ago so it’s worth about a buck fifty (Mags is very handy and helped us navigate Chicago last weekend), a dog bed, cargo net and tub with jumper cables and my emergency road kit. Needless to say, my pretty nine year-old car has not been targeted.

This morning, there are police cars outside and one officer was locked out so I badged (get it?) him in and showed him how to get to the other building. Some problem with a young kid who’s mom is paying the rent, a druggie threatening suicide, and they think he’s also the guy who’s been ripping off cars in our absurdly expensive garage.

In a building comprised of successful executives, professional athletes, retirees, rich college kids and others, I’m one of the few who is here during the day, alone except for Zoe, the dog, who barks whenever someone turns a key in their lock. She helps keep me safe.

To have police officers here solving a crime and hopefully helping this young person get treatment, makes me feel a whole lot safer. I don’t think I could handle sledge hammer break-ins and would have to move to be safe.

They’ve doubled security, added extra cameras and for that I’m grateful, but I hope the Police Department can nip this in the bud and we can all get back to normal. When you live in a nice place and have security and fobs and keys and double entries safety should be a given.

When we move, we choose a place to live consistent with the fact that my husband usually sleeps through the night, and soundly. If the dog needs to go out at two in the morning, it’s my job. He won’t live anywhere I won’t be safe outside at that time of night.

Two weeks ago, the result of too many treats or eating something yucky in the bushes, Zoe needed to go out early a.m. I ran to take her out and heard rustling in the bushes. I was lectured to by the security guard and told to go out the front entrance and he’ll watch out for me and if I’m not back in five minutes he’ll find me and call 911. Yes, he’s a soldier and has been called up to Iraq, I like him and he’s the kind of son I’d like to have. So I feel safe taking Zoe out when she’s eaten something foul (or fowl).

Extra security is posted in the parking garage and while I don’t drive my car some days, preferring to walk to get groceries, I now take the dog out and check on my car at least once a day.

Lost veterans, lost adult kids, lost pets. They add to my daily chores but I get to write. Perhaps an extra story about that privacy lock! Cheers! Dee

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Twitter

Posted on August 28, 2012 | Leave a comment

I may do Haiku

Tweets are unknown and foreign

No need to Twitter

 

As you’ve seen from over 1,600 posts I’ve expanded my repertoire, editing on the fly and able to do what was not easy in high school or college, writing 500 words in less than 20 minutes. If I could have done that back then I’d have been cum laude and not just Dean’s List.

I also try bad Haiku from time to time. It’s all an exercise in learning and fulfillment. Tweeting is foreign to me and I fear I may come at it with a slow learning curve.

Unfortunately grades in high school and college are based on word counts. Who decided that? So Moses rode down the river in a basket. In high school and college I was never asked to think, so learned that on my own over the years.

Now I can do the word counts in a few moments and express my thoughts. Paring down life and words may be next. Thanks, reader. Dee

p.s. I still have the first 1957 Smith-Corona portable electric typewriter my Aunt gave me for my high school graduation. It was the envy of the dorm pre-computer age. I wrote some good papers on that typewriter.

p.p.s. Not as well as I do now with editing and spell checvkvo

 

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Knives

Posted on August 28, 2012 | Leave a comment

A bit of cooks’ wisdom, and caution that when you cook you deal with heat and knives so let’s not get hurt……

Some may say that the cook’s essential tool is his/her knives but it is hands that win, hands down. Hands that shape, measure, and a brain that connects cooking elements together are key to success even in the home kitchen.

But a hand needs a knife. Please do not purchase “laser edge” or “do not sharpen” knives. They ruin food. And don’t buy a knife block full of knives that take up counter space and that you will not use.

Your first purchase should be a high-end chef’s knife, 10-12″ and a paring knife, 3-4″. That is the blade length. I tend to use my 8″ Santoku knife more than the 10″ chef so consider that.

Go to the back of the store and ask staff to let you handle knives in the locked case. Take time to find out what fits your hand, what feels comfortable for you because this is a lifetime purchase and the $100 is worth it. Of course you’re looking at forged steel and good blade and being able to place your thumb and forefinger above the handle for a chef’s. For the paring knife you need to know if a 3″ or 4″ blade is best for you to peel an apple or take the skin off an orange.

I’m not being paid for this but Henckels Four Star works for my small, stubby hands. You’ll learn what works for you, whether it be a rounded or rectangular handle.

Make sure that the knife is forged then it’s up to you. Right now I really use my Henckels Four Star 8″ Santoku and Kyocera ceramic 7″ Santoku more than anything else but my bread slicer ($12) and paring knives. Know that Santokus have to be professionally sharpened at a different angle, especially those with a Granton edge, and that ceramic knives must be shipped back to the manufacturer for sharpening. Also, ceramics can’t be used to cut through chicken bones or smash garlic or they’ll break.

As for butchers’ knives, ask your butcher. Mine never cost more than $10 and I’ve one boning knife for chicken (rigid) and another for fish (flexible).

Please have the right equipment to sharpen your knives. A steel is essential for realignment. If you don’t want to sharpen them yourself, ask your butcher and for about $1 per inch of blade, if he does it or refers you, that should do it. A dull knife cuts your finger off. A sharp one, when used wisely, does not.

Don’t ever forget knife skills. Look into it and practice on carrots, celery and onions and make some broth with those frozen chicken bones with them. Look up knife skills online before doing this.

As for storage, counter and drawer space have always been minimum. I prefer a magnetic knife rack mounted to the wall so I can pick what I want to use immediately, then place it aside to be washed. Never submerge your knives in soapy water unless you’re washing them immediately, otherwise you may not see them and be cut. Of course a ceramic knife will not stick to a magnetic grid, so get a knife guard and place it in a drawer where it’s easy to reach. Remember the knife guard. It will keep your kids from cutting themselves when they reach for a spoon.

When was I allowed to use a knife? Probably around age 8 when I started cooking. I’m sure it wasn’t sharp, probably dangerous, but young kids need to start cooking with their parents, even with a spoon or a butter knife.

I taught my nephew about “folding” last year, with a blueberry muffin batter and It was compared to a battering ram and people storming the castle with a tree trunk and I said he’d never want to do that to a blueberry. So, learn to fold.

I love my kitchen and knives, but even more I love cooking for my husband, family and friends. If you have the right tools, it’ll cut (ha ha) your time significantly so you can enjoy your dinner and guests. That’s what this whole cooking thing is about, really. Cheers, Dee

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