Category Archives: Editorial

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Saves

Posted on October 5, 2016 | Leave a comment

I save things, a paper hog. Just ask my husband. Yesterday was the 15th anniversary of our first date. Movie and dinner. He opened the passenger door, took my hand and never let go.

Last night he was on another date, a bro-mance with a co-worker, his wife and kids and mother and others for some event. I missed him but someone gave me a shortbread cookie for my celebration with the old dog Zoe, getting older by the day.

We saved Zoe, and I saved Nathan, Chani and Mick Dundee (Mickey). I helped save thousands of cats and dogs over many years, as a volunteer through shelters and spay/neuter clinics.

A new neighbor has a young, small cat who has a voice that would drown out a Baptist choir. My Nathan (Burmese, rip 1987-2001) never let me get the last word in until the pink liquid “cured” him of congestive heart failure exacerbated by pneumonia and his ashes went to feed flowers at the pet cemetery.

I told our new neighbors that I get a kick out of “the voice,” perhaps she should be on The Voice! One day I thought it was a baby crying. It only goes on for a minute or so, probably when she is left alone. Hey, Nathan talked back to me for 13 years and Mick was raised by Chani the dog and and taught himself to fetch crumpled post-it notes, sail over the sofa and retrieve. Dogs in the neighborhood used to run away from home to play with him. They all have talent.

Chani’s talent was to get over abuse by men and children and love them again. I helped her do that through training, trust, love. I had to break the news of her death and the toddlers just said “hi” to me and did not yell out her name and run towards me, afterwards, with mommy’s permission.

Yes, Mickey Mouse (another nickname), dropped that post-it note at my feet for me to toss again. When I moved out there was a plethora of post-its underneath the sofa that he carried around when I was working at home or in meetings.

Fifteen years ago I went on a first date, and now my husband of nearly 14 years has held my hand ever since. We and our families and friends have been through much change over the years, a lot for good. Think about family, current and old friends. Say hello again, hello, as Joan Baez did in one of my favorite songs. Dee

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Steel

Posted on October 2, 2016 | Leave a comment

I thought of it yesterday as I wrote about “some assembly required.” I think my parents were not pleased after I graduated high school, college and had what they thought was a great job in a big city.

Turns out I gave it up and spent my life savings to go to cooking school. Put that together with a healthy college education and it made me grow up and allow my education to fully coalesce.

At age seven, spending Saturday mornings in the local library while Mom was shopping, I found Betty Crocker’s Boys and Girls Cookbook and checked it out. Three weeks later the librarian called Mom and said I owed $.32 in late fees, that came out of my $.50 allowance.

A new book of the same name was my birthday gift at age eight. Later on, my parents did not like my quitting my rat race job in the big city for culinary pursuits.

While thinking kids and holidays and some assembly required I recall what my husband now calls a stamped steel toy kitchen. It was pink, all metal. It actually had a reservoir for water that worked for the first day. The “frig” had plastic veggies, fruits and proteins. The oven did nothing.

Back then there was a choice of harvest gold or avocado (I didn’t know what that fruit was at the time) appliances. Then my parents moved up to a Star Wars kitchen as they bought a home people ran out of money to finish. All steel. Avant garde.

Now rich people always do what they want, make a kitchen not look like a kitchen, keep an old home with a kitchen in back that only cooks and servants enter, or make everything open.

I think most people don’t get custom cabinets, even fewer design their own kitchens so everything works for them. That could mean pull-out cabinets and everything handy at a moment’s notice for a chef.

Those who had avocado or harvest gold appliances have gone to white, then black, then steel. I have steel and they all look nice together but if I could create a really workable kitchen it would be still a galley. I am not a fan of the huge Texas kitchens with 8′ between appliances and no prep space. That screams “take-out” or delivery to me. Pizza and Chinese food are on their speed dial.

Because I actually use my kitchen, the sink nearly fell through because the undermount supports failed. A kitchen must be useful.

Form follows function. Those are not my words, but those of Louis Henry Sullivan, creator of the first skyscraper. The dictum has been trashed over the years, perhaps fatally. I cannot sing about architecture but will whine about kitchens.

There is a list in my mind of things I wish for in my retirement kitchen. Guest space, two islands, prep space, view. I would like major appliances to meld together, not all from the same company, and restaurant quality. Form follows function in appliances above the counter as well. If I made rice five times per day, I’d have a rice cooker, coffee/espresso/latte the same. I do not do either.

I have a toaster, hot water electric kettle (essential in the mountains or Britain not that I would travel with it as theirs are better as is their electric oomph), stand mixer, food processor and blender. Yes, I’ve other items such as a meat grinder attachment, hand-crank pasta machine, ricer and more but those are to be stored elsewhere. A butler’s pantry sounds right for lovely dishes and sundry appliances. Plus a cooling rack for food that I do not wish the dog to have. Yes, there is to be a vented door on the butler’s pantry that is dog-proof.

A pink kiddy kitchen was placed in our basement to keep me out of the real kitchen.  How long can a kid play with plastic apples and pork chops? Enough to create a crown roast of pork with gala apples, hard cider gravy, with cornbread stuffing for Christmas dinner for my in-laws.

Now I have the real steel thing, it has its’ limitations. Don’t worry, I’m working on it. Enjoy the weekend! Dee

 

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Remarkable

Posted on October 1, 2016 | 1 comment

It’s been five days since teeny baby Paisley and her family moved out. We’re down to two dogs on our floor because Huxley, the quiet one, moved to the suburbs. Paisley’s folks will be building a home in the country.

There are seven very nice apartments up here. Our old dog Zoe (90 in “people years”) was the only dog for years and made sure everyone was safe. For a while we had three dogs here. Now it’s just Zoe and her old blind pal, Mr. B.

Imagine that with so few homes we’d have two pregnant ladies! Granted, Paisley’s mom moved. Another bairn (Scots for baby, see “wee bairn” in my Aunt’s, the retired English teacher’s bathroom). I had to find a word, pronounce it correctly, spell it and use it in a sentence every time I used the powder room!

My neighbors with blind Mr. B are due for a blessed event this month. They’re doing great. Over the days I see a number of packages at their door. Some look like flat packs. I see them from down the hall and think of IKEA and other flat pack furniture that comes with a crummy Allen wrench.

Then my mind goes to a couple of years hence when baby boy/girl sees a tricycle and points and says “Mommy, Daddy, I want that!” Then the inevitable happens. Parents buy the tricycle in a flat pack and do what my parents told me decades later.

They stayed up until 4 a.m. (at least Dad did) putting together the metal kitchen for me, assembling the mini car race track for my brother. I always wondered why my parents were so tired at six o’clock Christmas morning.

Soon they started buying us sweaters and socks plus one small special item each, then getting a family gift for the basement (nice big room, windows, fireplace et al) like a ping pong table one year, air hockey the next. As I recall they always said the sweaters et al were from Mom and Dad, the special gift for all was from Santa. All of a sudden, my parents weren’t so tired Christmas morning.

They did start a tradition, however, one worth preserving. Every year Mom went out and got us kids themed ornaments for the tree. She never liked those glass balls that broke into 1,000 pieces except for “filler” on the tree. Often she marked the kid’s initial and year on the back. When we went off to college she gave each one of us a box with our own ornaments to start our own tree.

I do not know where many of my old ornaments are but my husband and I will soon be married 14 years and I try to get us matching ornaments on a theme of where we’ve lived (lassos and bagpipes,snowmen and a moose on a sled, vastly different ornaments, of course). It provides a family history. “Oh, that’s the year were were in ….”

Cheers and help maintain and create traditions, food and more, in your home. Food is sustenance, and family. Dee

ps The racetrack was 8’x15′ and in the basement. Electric, with strips underneath the car to connect to the track. Two cars, one blue, light and fast. One white, a bit heavier and slower. I was always white and always won. When blue tried to beat me it was so light that on the turns it flew off the track and cost time. I went fast on the straightaways and slow around the turns and the tortoise won the race. D

 

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His Time, Her Time

Posted on September 25, 2016 | Leave a comment

Every weekend I tend to get a tummy ache. My husband works two time zones away, sleeps and eats late and I try to cook when I can. We should have met in the middle and sometimes we do. Now I keep yogurt and fruit on hand so I’ve early breakfast covered, for me at least.

Sometimes he’s not ready to go to lunch until one p.m. my time and I haven’t had breakfast. It’s his time at home and he’s usually too tired from a hard week to cook. He’ll leave at dawn tomorrow and be back late at night Friday and want a certain frozen pizza. It’s anywhere from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. so I’m glad for the frozen.

I have vegetarian and maybe some fish during the week. When he comes home weekends I ask if he wants steak on the grill because I’m craving iron and he says “honey, I’ve eaten steak all week. Can you make chicken fajitas?

***

Now let’s have her time. I met my neighbor once when moving in and twice when moving out, today. The she in this case is a tiny baby named Paisley. I bought them great flowers when she was born a couple of weeks ago. They’re moving and building a home. I don’t think Paisley will be ready for construction duties anytime soon. Lucky her!

They were all ready in their football shirts to see the big game, including Paisley and her big sister, a gymnast.

We wish them well in their new endeavor. Cheers! Dee

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Crossing the Street

Posted on September 21, 2016 | 1 comment

I’ve always thought I’d be there to assist with Zoe’s demise. Now I am thinking about mine.

What if we’re on a walk and I collapse? Zoe is 90 in people years and doesn’t know how to dodge a car or cross a street, even on the faded crosswalk I pioneered between city and county.

Do I need to really teach her how to cross the street in traffic? No. She won’t learn on the farm and those pickups go fast out there. Forget here, state law says stop and drivers only pick up speed and honk the horn at pedestrian crossings. Get to that meeting on time, bud, no matter how many seniors, pedestrians and dogs you need to run over. Thanks for your law-breaking nastiness. I hope your vitriol fuels your work day.

My guess is that Zoe would stay on leash and by me until someone takes me to the hospital or morgue. Then, if not the morgue, I need to take care of her. I need alternatives to take care of her if I am incapacitated and more so if I’m dead.

I know she will stay by my side, on leash, until someone finds us and calls 911. Protocol? My husband is ICE. In Case of Emergency. Problem is that when I take the dog out, I never take my phone. That must change.

These years I’ve concentrated on potential Zoe incidents, not mine. What happens if something happens to me and I can’t help her if she doesn’t know how to cross the street and be a Lassie saying “Timmy’s in the well?”

It’s a troubling thought. Perhaps I should teach her how to cross the street by letting her decide, not telling her it’s OK to go. It’s always tough for a “mommy” to let go. Dee

 

 

 

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What?

Posted on September 20, 2016 | Leave a comment

I live in an expensive apartment building high above the crowds and with a great view.

A few weeks ago I bought a very interesting copper bracelet from an artists’ stall outside a marketplace. I showed it to a staff member. She makes jewelry. The next day I lent the bracelet to her for inspiration so she could photograph it or draw her own piece from it.

This person did not show up for work two weeks in a row. Third week I said a kind hello and asked for my bracelet. She went and got it and grumbled that I said she could keep it as long as she wanted.

Now this person is in charge of greeting residents, preventing problems, and security and looks down when Zoe and I walk through the lobby and even though I say a hearty “good morning” or “hello” said nothing, then grunted, then finally still looks down and replies.

Did I mention we spend a fortune to live here? My and our old dog’s safety depends on someone who sits behind a desk, with cameras and buttons, ready to call 911 if either of us do not return from our walk.

Today I mentioned that a maintenance request had gone unnoticed for weeks. It was minor, I just don’t have the appropriate parts or tools. Verbal reminders to this staffer were never conveyed.

So, now the resident is the problem. I was called in and asked to go through everything. They were on their staffer’s side every step of the way. In the end they offered to convene a meeting to air each others’ grievances. I said no, thanks.

They don’t get the big picture. Instead of protecting rude, lazy, unprofessional staff they should follow the money that pays their salaries. I have it on good authority that this person shirks duties and treats many residents badly yet no-one will put in a complaint, including me.

I never put in a formal complaint yet I’m asked to sit down with this person and “work things out.” This is a gnat near the fruit on my granola. What is this world coming to? I cook for Staff, bring them chili , homemade pizza, fruit and other things. I stock the doggie treat jar. Ok, Zoe does, so she can do a trick and have one when she arrives with her entourage (me and a leash, big audience).

What happened to doing one’s job? I’m retired now but went through sexual harassment before it was banned, and brutal bosses and politics everywhere (it was politics and policy) and never had anyone treat me like dirt for asking, several weeks after lending, for a $40 piece of jewelry back that is mine. Cheers, Dee

 

 

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Sunflowers

Posted on September 18, 2016 | 1 comment

I have always admired them for sticking their necks out for light. As a youth I saw them in few gardens but many pastures. They were weeds. I once brought a bouquet of Queen Anne’s Lace to my mother as a gift. She tossed it in the trash and said it was a weed.

John Denver. Sunshine on my shoulders. Sunflowers make one happy. And after they’re gone there are always the seeds that are healthy to eat, not the salty ones.

I bought a small plant, end of season on sale, small pot. Probably root bound and it looked happy outside for a week. Last week I relinquished Miss Sunflower to an adoptive home with a yard and more sun than we can provide. I was not neglectful or abusive, just didn’t understand the plant. It has always made me so happy, to see community gardeners sharing seeds and growing tips.

When I drive by I don’t know if they’re growing zucchini or tomatoes, but at this time of year there are 6-7″ Sunflowers for all to see. It is always a welcome sight before a cold winter. Cheers! Dee

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It’s Snowing! Indoors…

Posted on September 17, 2016 | Leave a comment

I’ll admit to having some assistance in this fall cleaning sweep. We got a new grill (same model 10 years newer) and are giving the old one to a friend, with some cleaner and brushes and we’ll deliver it.

My husband flew in last night and I thought everything was OK until I found out he pulled a “Shawshank” on me and tried to tunnel through the bottom sheet, inadvertently of course. Luckily he didn’t get anywhere. I tossed the fitted sheet, washed the other and luckily have another set with a slightly different die lot so put humpty dumpty back together again.

While we’ve a regular size w/d I cannot do two king sheets at a time so mix things up between clothes and pillow cases. I pulled out his king-pillowcase to wash and the pillow exploded! When the pillowcase came out of the dryer, well, there was more snow.

Snow all over the place! I tried to contain it but it was three loads of laundry and four vacuumings, first from the pillow, then every load of laundry, then carefully placing the pillow into a trash bag and tying it off.

The entire seam just burst. I think it’s time to go pillow shopping. The funny thing is that I’ve never had a pillow fight in my life. This pillow just erupted and took over several hours of my life. I like to have our home in order when my husband returns from a business trip.

From now on, let’s get new pillows and leave the snow outside. Cheers! Dee

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Family, Caring and Rescue

Posted on September 14, 2016 | Leave a comment

We have been planning our first vacation in 14 years. It is a very special one as it is for my father’s 85th birthday. For two months I have been unlucky in finding my dog a place to stay.

She has been vetted at a local cage-free location but has never stayed overnight. Yes, she’s been vetted in Austin, Houston, everywhere. I like her to be at home. She’s my companion, a herder who may be sleeping but will go back to sleep in minutes, at my feet in another room once I move.

I’ve been sick for two days so haven’t checked my email. Two days ago, after sending in a request for a second doggie daycare visit and overnight. That was today. I got her there, she pulled like a donkey not to go in. I should have listened to her. Then I went home and checked my email. Two days ago this company said there were cages. Yesterday, over two phone calls I was told emphatically there were no cages.

I called a lawyer’s referral service for an opinion. This has nothing to do with dogs (except mine), and knew I had to use every means available to rescue my dog.

Complaining about the lying was covered up as “we should have explained it better.” I think their customers are dropping like flies because they want to cut down customer service while keeping up rates and keep numbers of dogs in the dark all night from 7:30 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. without going to the bathroom. Who knows? When I checked Zoe out (the charge was a pittance against getting our old dog back from the liars) the water bowl behind the admittance desk was empty. Home, Zoe went right for her water and drank two cups. Yes. I immediately took her out.

Then, after my complaint, the lady at the desk with the nose ring said “You’re lucky, you showed up just in time to pay the half-day fee of $18.75. I paid it, got my dog and they are the ones who will not be lucky.

They lie outright to their clients, switch stories. What kind of business is this? One an attorney and the Better Business Bureau would enjoy looking into. Fido, no friends. Overcharging for services not provided, not properly knowing or supervising dogs. I will never place Zoe there again, even to just get her nails trimmed. Yes, I’m always in the room with her as a “tech” and no other dog is present. Yet I still cannot give them any business.

Today, I got there asap and just said “I want my dog.” If they lie to me, they’re lying to her. If they changed the rules they certainly never told any of their customers.

The thing is this company must have turned to cages for a reason, liability. Perhaps a dog was attacked without provocation and with no supervision, let’s check it out. Zoe is once again two feet from my desk chair and calm, sleeping. She’s hydrated once again, relieved, sleeping and calm. Cheers to animal welfare and the end of fraud by any means. Dee

 

 

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Findings

Posted on September 7, 2016 | Leave a comment

Sometimes I find things. After age 40 a husband found me. He still tells me and others that I picked him up in a bar! Not true. We shook hands in the parking lot and he said since we both loved movies we might see one sometime as friends. He called the next night, and picked me up (I still have the map with my address in it), map is in my car. He took my hand and for nearly 15 years has never let go.

I was at a consignment shop years ago in Texas and looking at a dresser that could be a place to store dining linens and plates. I opened the top drawer to see if it had dovetail joints and there were two Tuscan scenes, lithos numbered and signed. I grabbed them and checked out. $4 for both. Of course it cost $150 to frame. They’re gorgeous and help our “Tuscan Retreat.”

Another find, the dog. A year after we married we adopted THW, yes, The Hip-less Wonder. I lifted her up onto the bed and she is sound asleep but will be at my feet at any moment. She can jump down because of a strong core and front end. She is a herder and guards against me leaving her for any reason, even to buy her food.

Lately, not of my desire, elevators have taken to me. I was stuck on one for over an hour a few weeks ago, and on a floor eight floors down with old dog Zoe for two minutes tonight for “last chance.” I had the gumption to choose the other elevator, the one I was stuck in, to get home. I called it in and and am home safe.

Findings. I found peace and friendship at a country home with a great view and 25 acres. We played at the creek, in the sand, in the pool and dogs came to visit me. I was ten when we moved away to a big city/suburb.

Leadership was gained in high school championing our gymnastics team. We came in second, but made it to State. Courage was found when I gave our star gymnast an ultimatum at the State Championship. Stay and cheer for your team, or you’re off the team as of now and you forfeit your medal. She stayed.

I have found knowledge, languages I did not know I could learn or speak (only the basics, please, thank you, good morning/evening/night, and where is the nearest bathroom) but I can do it in Greek. Kalimera, kalispera, kalinichta. Espharito (please) and Parakalo (thank you or di nada.)

There is beauty out there. My husband always lived in a man cave, such as on the first floor with blinds closed behind the mail boxes. As a kid, we always had a view or at least a pool. Now, we always have a view. Once my father had a tennis court. That’s a long story.

Not for when I’m stuck in the elevator or because the Navy won’t send their pilots to an air show (The Blue Angels) so the entire show was cancelled this year. What a view we have of that show, practice is the best time to see it from my desk.

Finding my self. I’m getting older and want to take care of my family. I am a cook and always have a front burner. That’s the hot one, the one that screams help me! That’s Dad right now. I’m trying to work down my list but he’s #1.

Yes, lists help me and it would be good to put pencil and paper on my bed table so if I awaken at three in the morning I can put down good ideas. Thank you for that. I think I’ve unburdened enough and the dog is not here with me. She is getting old, 90 in people years. I’m getting old as well. May as well share another thing I found, wisdom. Dee

 

 

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