Category Archives: Editorial

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When Pigs Fly

Posted on January 5, 2017 | Leave a comment

That is nearly what my parents said when, at age 16, I asked if I could train for my learners’ permit. Said permit was for supervised driving of a passenger car only, not for matters of the heart.

Same age I was asked out on a first date. “When he!! freezes over!” I went on that date and they picked the movie and I was only to be gone until 10:00. The guy dumped me for a cheerleader who was more into what he was into at the time.

He came back when I was 18 and we were engaged at 21. I broke it off after three weeks. Too controlling. My female vibes kicked in when he told me we had to sit on the right in church so God would know he’s a conservative. I countered with “what if God is standing in the front of the church and thinks you’re liberal?”

The second largest Great Lake is freezing over. It’s not photo-worthy at the moment. It was a few weeks ago with the warmer water steaming through ice that tried to form. I was busy back then so I didn’t get to capture it for you. I think the ice fishers may have a few weeks with their augurs, tents,poles and coolers.

I like taking one random ice fisher under my wing for one morning, breakfast and bring coffee or hot chocolate, muffins or pastries and always a six-pack of a local brew for later. Last time they landed a big fish as I arrived and they made me stay as good luck until I became too cold to do so. They only had a bit of ice last year.

So as long as the lake freezes, I should be free to do what I wish to do, as I no longer have parents to ask permission. Only a husband. He doesn’t ask, I don’t ask. It’s worked well for over 15 years. He’s not controlling, he’s methodical, as his mother would say. And he doesn’t make me go to church, much less tell me where to sit. Amen.

Cheers from an icy cold outdoors and warm, inviting indoors. Dee

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Trust

Posted on January 1, 2017 | Leave a comment

Bailey’s been through a lot this year. We met his folks several years ago, then less than a year ago they moved next door, and had their first child.

Bailey is an older, completely blind, dog. I took care of him when they moved in next door, and when they are moving out this weekend. He spent much of his time watching the door. He wouldn’t eat, or drink water except for a few treats and my burger.

Before his folks picked him up for a last night in their old home, he started goosing me, following me around even all the way to our master bedroom. Then he asked if he could jump up on the sofa with me, judged the height with his paw, and laid down.

I moved five feet to pick up my phone to call my husband (in the bedroom on his laptop) to say he was sleeping on the sofa and he started barking as if I left him. He came back twice more. Mom came to pick him up late afternoon and he went home and came back and made himself at home. It’s a good situation.

Last time they moved, I took care of him and sat there on the floor telling him his parents were coming back. I did the same today, no floor. Imagine a brain that tests the sofa’s height before asking to be allowed up. Trajectory. Now do 1,000% more by moving everything out, including furniture, today. He’ll be OK by tomorrow and I made Spaghetti Bolognese for his folks for tonight. We’re off to an annual dinner and I have to make trifle. Limoncello Pannettone with whipped cream, lemon curd and a ton of berries in a decorative bowl.

The founder of a certain major software/hardware company had a large home in Silicon Valley. He replicated the entire home for a summer retreat, down to every piece of furniture, placed exactly as in his primary home. He was blind.

Bailey wouldn’t eat today, until I crumbled up half my hamburger and fed it to him by hand. His home is being torn apart to go to a new one. In the end, he trusted me again. He is able to reconnoiter our home in five minutes, but as he ages and with the confusion of moving, he tends to bump into things, lightly.

I’ve an idea for a new invention! Happy New Year! Dee

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Hi, Dad!

Posted on December 26, 2016 | Leave a comment

You used to always say “Hi, Dee”on the phone in a Cary Grant kind of voice that I haven’t heard for a few weeks. Christmas came and went, there was no call and I didn’t even get to send you mincemeat for tarts.

You made magic wherever you went. You were not Santa, except for your kids in olden days with “some assembly required.” But for others and us you always made us believe that if we worked at it, anything was possible. It is a gift that makes the lives you’ve touched better, that people you’ve met can believe in themselves and make the world a better place with education and love.

The neighbors used to call on him every night to come out and play. Everyone on the street got to play. I’d carry a baby to base and back and the outfielders would purposely flounder to get her to home. YEA!

Now our home is filled with floral arrangements and trees from people who never knew your name, heritage, accomplishments except that I lost my Dad.

It is sad that it took your passing to bring together your “kids” after years apart after Mom died. As the eldest and working with your best bud we will try to keep this together in your memory.

There’s something you did not get to see, the Dancers charcoal sketch from a student art winner you gave me 25 years ago. I finally got it framed, beautifully, shortly before your death. I’m having others done of your life and works.

You always said you were proud of me and that I could be anything, an astronaut or president. I am proud of you, Dad, for inspiring everyone you knew to be all that we could be.

There is a photo of me at six months of age and you under 30 years old. We were at a picnic in the mountains. A strange dog came up. You held me close to keep me safe but reached out to let me know how and when to pet a dog, and all I wanted to do in my little mind was say, “Dad, let me pet the dog!”

I’ve been my father’s daughter all my life. That will not change. Challenging authority was what he did to save organizations and create change. He taught us to think outside the box and create solutions to complex problems.

I didn’t hear “hi, Dee” yesterday as I did see his body go into the ground. I still talk to him, however, no replies, but I can grieve this way. I would rather think of him as inspiration. He was, and is and will always be so.

In memory of my father, Dee

 

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Men and Menus

Posted on December 24, 2016 | Leave a comment

It’s my husband’s birthday, well, yesterday. He was flying in and it started snowing and I heard of dire weather conditions. His plane was delayed an hour but then there were other issues with the car.Let’s just say he was two hours late, maybe more.

Every Friday he asks me to go to the gas station up the way and get a certain frozen pizza and a 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper. He had to get food at the airport, a burger, so oh, no! His pizza is still in the freezer!

It’s his birthday so I reciprocated in kind. He says, dear, I don’t know what kind of jewelry you like so I go to airport gift shops and get you a refrigerator magnet. Aw, shucks.

I get him his gas station pizza every week, with the DP so decided to get him a birthday gift. Hi dear, I don’t know what kind of jewelry you like so decided to get you some organic beef jerky. He liked that, then crashed.

Our holiday and menus are simple. A roast chicken for Christmas Eve with mashed potato and green beans. Perhaps cereal and fruit for breakfast and and a burger at lunch at home, cooked on the grill.

Christmas Day will be a late festive breakfast, no lunch, then dinner a deux with filet mignon, baked potatoes (loaded, a fillip to the beef jerky birthday treat), roasted heirloom carrots and, sautéed Brussels sprouts with pearl onions and bacon. Dessert is planned and may be made and not eaten. Limoncello panettone as either a trifle or bread pudding. Yes, the panettone is purchased, not hand-made.

The funny thing is that my husband likes to do scientific things in the kitchen. Over the past year or so we’ve hand-cranked fresh pasta, made fluffy pancakes with whipped egg whites, (he reads the recipe and I do the work) so hopefully we’ll redo some  of these and perhaps try another suspect, like the ricer? Root vegetable puree, no rutabagas. We’ve an entire week together! Imagine that! The dog is so happy to be up snoring on the bed together with him, too loud for me until they calm down a bit.

The rest of the week is a potential list of menus he likes, things he is unable to get in restaurants. They’re mostly family favorites. My side of the family, not that there are sides. Time is so precious with his mother around Thanksgiving that I don’t learn the food he loves on a regular day.

M, it’s chicken enchiladas, and your fantastic egg rolls. He’s the birthday boy today, getting in very late, and I’d love to be able to surprise him next week if you give me recipes or hints.

Thank you, family. He really wants egg rolls! The weekend is taken care of but one day next week….. your secrets will be safe with me. Cheers! D

 

 

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3 Amigos + Life Coach

Posted on December 12, 2016 | Leave a comment

Equal what, exactly? I returned home the day after Dad’s funeral to a room full of flowers. These folks had never met him or knew of his life or career, they just thought he raised a pretty good kid, though I’m no longer a child by any means. I can tell you that he had 58 years of practice and that is how one gets to play at Carnegie Hall.

He played the capitals of Europe leading the 7th Army Symphony. When he was switched to hospice care he only received oxygen and morphine. He was able to sleep, finally. My brother called to say he was waving his arms about, trying to tell him something, and I replied “hon, he’s conducting!” He was, what we will never know.

So of my three amigos two are happily married. One gave me roses and a note. The other stopped by for an hour and marveled at the paintings and photographs on our walls. His eyes are not good and he had to find his way home to get a magnifying glass to see the number on our door.

The third is my tough case. He “allowed me” to make him breakfast. They all knew my husband would not be back from work for another 30 hours so they tag-teamed to give me company during my grief.

Then he showed me his domestic environment. He’s divorced and dating. I said if I was a younger gal (late 30’s, 40) and visited his home I’d be scared to death. It’s too neat. He’s never used the kitchen sink, oven, stove or washer/dryer.

As a friend I offered a few suggestions. Toss an empty pizza box on the kitchen counter. Pour out half a beer (I gave him an expensive dark ale I was going to use for a French stew) and mangle the cap and leave both on the coffee table.

I made good on those. Third is to find the handprint kindergarten ash tray I know his son made, buy a cigar, let it burn a bit to leave some ash, and leave it out. Now he needs saving by a good woman.

Today he’s reading the paper in a public place, watching the snow fall. He says he has a date and he’s going to get everything pre-made at our local grocery. What??? I can teach you how to make a roast chicken, mashed potatoes and roasted heirloom carrots in ten minutes!

I brought him the pizza box and a beer. Now he’s going to order dinner. He says he can’t cook, but I think he doesn’t want to mess up his sink, oven, stove or laundry to actually make a meal for someone he wishes to impress. I asked him to say “You are my life coach” and he replied that he would help me with any advice I needed.

No, sir, that is not what I meant. It’s one thing for me to take the dog out early in the morning, another for him to be sitting there reading the paper, alone. I am d’Artagnan to my aging Musketeers. Cheers! Dee

ps The flower arrangement I love most is whimsical. My florist said keeping a florist means you have someone who knows you and what you like. The “roses” are baby flowering kale. For my Scottish pursuits there are heather and thistles.

pps My husband must be awake by five. Oh, DogMa is going to hate that. It’s snowy and dark. D

 

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Posted in Editorial, Music, Scotland

Chivalry

Posted on December 2, 2016 | 1 comment

It is not dead. It lives in Texas, the north (certainly not the northeast coast of the US) and midwest. Perhaps the Rockies a bit if it’s truth to tell and old pickup trucks, not just snow bunnies.

We’ll be married 14 years next month and actually dated for 16 months before marriage. Dating, that’s not a concept I recall. Now it’s Roku and Netflix. I digress.

I told you my father died yesterday, after a long, hearty, mostly healthy, always interesting life. He was a gentleman. My husband is one as well, with his Texas verbiage. No, ma’am, yes sir, thank you ma’am.

Since Dad died I’ve had a few visitors, mainly older and male. They know my husband is en route home right now and was not here when the news came down, so came to call. One brought two beautiful red roses and said one was for me, one was for my Dad, and May He Find Peace.

That was my old neighbor, the retired architect. They now live three blocks down the street.

Another said he thought I needed company yesterday morning so I got to make him breakfast. Good, as I needed it as well. Eggs, biscuits and bacon and tea. He showed me his place and it’s the neatest living space I’ve ever seen. I told him when he has a date he has to put out an empty pizza box with a few crumbs, an empty beer can on the coffee table, and a child’s handprint ashtray with a cigar that has gone out.

Otherwise I’d be frightened to enter his abode. Now, he wants me to cater his dates as he’s never used the stove, oven, dishwasher or w/d. While I prep and clean everything as I go, I believe he may have physical pain as I mess up his pristine environment.

The Three Amigos. That is what I should call them. They were a bit of a clique the other day. Now each of them has called on me. The roses guy was my next-door neighbor. My husband is away a lot and he’d stop by once a week and knock on the door to see if I was doing OK and ask when my husband was coming home.

The last amigo asked to visit this morning. He could not find the number on our door due to macular degeneration so went home and got a magnifying glass. He used it to see all my photos and artwork, and couldn’t believe that Dad started painting at age 80. My father died yesterday having recently turned 85.

Now that both my parents are gone my husband’s parents have already said I have a new family now. I would like to thank my husband, who arrives in about 40 minutes (his pizza will be ready) and his family who took me in nearly 15 years ago. J’s “Nanny” is mine, she offered that first day. I’m an honorary “grand.” Of course there are great-grands, and now more.

I treasure my Three Amigos for taking care of me these past two days. There was another knock on my door, a huge evergreen basket to place by the fireplace. Something to place by a hearth. No hearth, much heart. Thank you, you know who you are. I’ve lived beside you for nearly five years.

Might this all have something to do with a nun’s desk? Nah, it’s all Dad’s magic. He had a way with people, I always learned from him, and will instill some of our knowledge into younger folks but as he is gone I will not be able to ask him for more. I always wanted his take on things. That will no longer be available as he is gone. Cheers, Dee

 

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“Hi, Dee!!!”

Posted on December 1, 2016 | 2 comments

That’s how he sounded on a good day. His voice just made my day. I’m going to ask my husband when he is home this weekend to find a voicemail message with that on it because it’s priceless.

My Dad passed away early this morning. He was calm, comfortable and under 24/7 hospice care since this past weekend.

Luckily we got to spend a few days together before Thanksgiving, swapping stories. Interesting lives, interesting stories.

Why will this venue not accept my photo? I was six months old, at a picnic in the mountains, on Dad’s lap. He was holding me to protect me and I was reaching out to pet a neighboring picnicker’s dog. All I wanted was the dog. “But Dad, I just want to pet the dog!” Yep, that’s my brain at six months. No vocalization needed. Just be a horse and strain at the bit. You’ll get to pet the dog.

My entire life he looked out for me, and let me reach for whatever star I wanted. He is loved, and already missed, by many. He lived his life trying to make things better, education, world affairs, the arts.

I certainly do not wish to bore you, but there are two brief stories that show the man as who he was. Tomorrow. A teary cheers from Dee

 

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Posted in Editorial, Protection

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Outfits

Posted on November 30, 2016 | Leave a comment

I remember trying a thong 20 or so years ago. Ick. Now I’ve a cropped top to wear under a lace bodysuit. Yes. Buy something to cover something else!

The cropped top, I keep trying to tuck in. It will not, nor is it designed to do so. As everything is in the wash I’m wearing leopard print pajama pants. For bed, and a strenuous interview in a few moments with a man I haven’t seen in fifty years.

He was a truck driver. My father had him take an IQ test and of course he’s a genius. He went to college and became a psychologist. Before age eight I was allowed to visit him and his dear wife, an artist, once a week. He would give me a psychoses and I’d look one up and define it for him the next week. My favorite was triskadekaphobia, fear of the number 13.

We have an appointment by phone. Why take a call from a neighbor from the 1960’s? Because my father is now under hospice care and taught him to play handball in an indoor court. He’s 87 and still plays and credits my father for that. He arranged for a lengthy appointment.

I need to call my husband briefly before the doc is in. I just talked to a clinical psychologist (dear wife of an old work friend) and she says I’ll do OK. Cheers! Dee

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Snakes on a Plane?

Posted on November 22, 2016 | Leave a comment

I’ve heard of a movie of that name, never saw it. I’ve a worse nightmare, a bodysuit on a plane.

There’s a place I go to buy clothing that has bodysuits with no snaps. OK, you get to the airport with plenty of time to check in and hang out in security lines then go through TSA. After security, you buy a bottle of water for the plane. Often they don’t even give you a cup of ice cubes with a tablespoon of water in it.

So, you sip your water at the gate. Then you need to use the restroom because you’ll never get a chance to do so on the plane. No snaps means that in the airport or on the plane, you’ll have to strip down and life will never be the same. Three snaps means an annoying five minutes you’ll never get back. I suggest wearing something easy under layered sweaters. It’s always hot when you board. Then once the engines are engaged, it’s freezing.

Gals used to tell me to wear linen on the plane. It wrinkles like crazy but they said they’ll know you only want the best so you may be upgraded. I prefer basic black or white “dressy”tees under a sweater or two, coat above if needed.

Today I made a “cheater” brussels sprout and cauliflower gratin that eliminated about 17 steps from my usual recipe. Hopefully our nephew will be able to make it tomorrow as his grandfather and our cousin, Zoe’s vet, enjoy it.

I also made a cranberry orange sauce for parfaits. I may just have to make another as I will not be allowed to take it on the plane. I was supposed to take Zoe today but am holding on for now. She is a comfort to me. Note to self: do not ever wear a bodysuit on a plane again! Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving! Dee and Zoe

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Older and Giving

Posted on November 22, 2016 | Leave a comment

Our dog Zoe is over 90 in “people years” but she keeps on going. She spent some time at a retail business last week and will again do so this Thanksgiving week.

I’m told she’s a hit. I just need to comb out the undercoat she is shedding so she looks presentable. She is so kind with people of all ages and all dogs (except the one that wants to eat her) and even cats. Squirrels and mice should watch out but she’ll never catch them, especially on my 6′ leather leash with Martingale collar.

When I move from room to room in the middle of the night, she follows me within three minutes. Now it’s an hour before she knows I am gone and displays her herding skills, not letting me go anywhere without her say-so.

As the sun begins to come up, I do receive regular emails from Stirling Castle in Scotland. It was home to several monarchs from Scotland and even James II who ruled both Scotland and England after Queen Elizabeth I.

The new parliament and nation that is Scotland is an inspiration to me and has been since our long-term visit a few years ago. While there I called my uncle/godfather and asked if he wished for me to contact any of his relatives while there. He said no, that his family had left in the 1700’s to kick the French out of Canada. Well, that didn’t work. Montreal is now French, centuries later.

He did say that if I was in a Scottish pub, any pub, and used his name someone would stand me a pint. I never tried it.

Just as Zoe is getting older and more frail, so am I. So are our families. That’s the way it goes when one attains a certain age. I think we have to embrace life, collect mental memories, and rage, rage against the dying of the light. I never understood Dylan Thomas as a kid, but by age eight, I understood both Anne Frank and Death Be Not Proud about the son of John J. Gunther.

This time of year I usually cook a lot and drive my dog halfway across the country to see my husband and his family. This year, she’ll be taken care of and I’ll fly in with minimal cooking. So, gals, does this mean I need to do dishes??? Happy Thanksgiving, Dee

 

 

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Posted in Editorial, Zoe