Category Archives: Editorial

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Snowflake

Posted on November 16, 2017 | Leave a comment

The Wonder Kitty II, is a bean bag kitten, and is on my lap being petted for luck. The best of luck was given from Snowflake The First to my fellow volunteers spaying and neutering thousands of feral cats.

It was the right choice to leave him with these valiant volunteers. Note to ear-tippers who take off the top of the right ear while the cat is anesthetized to allow caretakers to know who has been spayed/neutered. Believe me, you cannot ever catch these crafty felines twice. I tipped II’s ear with sharp scissors. He is made of bean bags and batting so he never felt a thing. He is very soft and soothing. I gave an infant neighbor his little brother, who loves it.

We do things to make life livable, sometimes bearable when there is sickness or losses in the family. I was a consultant who spent weekends volunteering for the projects I created. I made an Animals section of day-to-day projects and while all the other managers had two projects per month I had 14. After a few years a new director fired me, saying they didn’t need people like me anymore. Yes, she said that, at a public event in front of the Councilman’s guests.

I left Snowflake with my fellow volunteers, who were loyal to the cause and to each other. Snow II is on my lap, I got my chops there with volunteers, management and feral cats. Mange? Get Dee. Ringworm? Get Dee. Tapeworms? Get Dee. Get it? You don’t want to know what happens when a feral cat or kitten awakens from surgery. Get ’em in, watch their breathing and release when ready. I even made a “Dee’s Kitty Wake-Up List” to show that cats had come out of anesthesia and were just napping. They just changed the name from mine a year ago. I thanked them for allowing me to make a change to their routine but didn’t need credit for doing so. Take care of your family and pets. Don’t feed your dog chocolate. Dee

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Posted in Editorial, editorial pets, loving life

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The Handoff

Posted on November 16, 2017 | 1 comment

I’ve had many. Touch football on the dead-end street as a kid. Kids turned over to me to babysit. Then I married my husband and we take care of each other.

His book is nearly done. Several copies were printed for editing purposes. We can each do that and have professionals read the document (have two local docs who wish to read said tome). It’ll not be anything you can find at Barnes & Noble, but perhaps Amazon under tech literature in a few months.

Every time he leaves town for a week or more, he tosses me the football in terms of an old dog and our home. My freedom is that if he’s coming back Friday night I get to buy him a frozen local thin-crust pizza and heat the oven (better than airplane food) and cook fish, to which he is deathly allergic, until Wednesday then let our home air out so his allergies are not triggered.

While home, I get up early. The dog awakens him. He comes to check on me. I just say “I’ll take her. Go back to sleep.” She wants to see me to make sure I don’t go anywhere without her knowing. Not that I’ve ever done so in nearly 14 years with her! She just wants to know I’ll take her out and feed her “dinner” first thing in the morning and let her get more beauty sleep. It’s why at nearly 100 in people years, she looks much better than I feel.

I believe that presidents once carried a case with nuclear missile codes called The Football. My football is just a way to a silk collar/leash and a key to our front door. It’s 5:15 a.m. and she is sleeping on a wood floor just outside our bedroom door. She wants to be back on the bed, but doesn’t want me to head for the hills before seven. She is conflicted as the door is shut for noise and she needs to choose. She chooses me, but if I take her out before seven and my husband is in bed, after she eats she wants to be back in our bed, my spot. I lift her there as she has no hips.

Ah, well, what is one to do? We try to make everybody in our small family happy. Cheers and a Happy Thanksgiving! Dee

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Herbs and Spices

Posted on November 15, 2017 | Leave a comment

Every year I get my brother-in-law a set of salt-free herbs/spices because he has high blood pressure and otherwise would only use copious amounts of pepper. I believe I even got him a high quality pepper mill, who knows, so many years.

Today an old business friend (she’s not old, the relationship is relatively so) helped us with insurance and compliance relationships and we wished to thank her. I ordered a box from Penzey’s with holiday herbs including basil, oregano, sage and thyme. I was told it would be delivered before Thanksgiving.

Dad always said the ladies talked too much about food. We were only taking care of you, dear. We enjoy making people happy, content, and wait at least 1/2 hour before getting into the swimming pool. Monopoly works for me, as does Uno or Scrabble. Those minutes can be tough, especially if it’s cold most months and one cannot swim for a half an hour after a tasty lunch. Listen to Robert Klein from the 70’s as a child of the 50’s. He knows that if you ate jello you could swim in ten minutes, franks and beans you’ll never swim again. He was always funny. Cheers! Dee

 

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Cloves

Posted on November 15, 2017 | Leave a comment

That goes in the arena of culinary mishaps. I’ve made a few major gaffes, especially before I got a culinary degree.

My cousin will never let me live down the uncooked “roasted” chicken I made him in a tiny apartment stove/oven. The pilot light went out and the skin looked gorgeous but the meat was raw. I re-lit the pilot, carved the chicken and sauteed it until done on the two-burner stove. Decades later he tells my siblings “your sister tried to kill me.”

I was living and working on the east coast and my family moved out west. I went to visit for the holidays and decided to cook them dinner from a very famous cookbook. The Bolognese sauce included 1/8 tsp. of cloves. I served the dinner and everyone said “cloves.” I made up my recipe from then on and have had no complaints, even when I make Moussaka and use cinnamon. Ok, that’s an error as well as I made it for guests so I could make it in advance so we could enjoy said guests. My husband hates eggplant. I’ve not made it since but am thinking of making it with zucchini as the “pasta” layers rather than grilled eggplant.

Mom and I went to a farmers’ market before I was married. I found this lovely little plant called Thai Chili. I was visiting family again and making a chicken chili, still before cooking school. I didn’t have an idea then as to Scoville Units, like Jalapeno is 3,000 – 5,000 and Habanero is about 300,000. Now ghost peppers are way out there.

I used 1/4 of what was in the recipe and no-one could eat it. For the next day or two I put in potatoes, carrots, everything but the kitchen sink but it was inedible. No, I didn’t give it to my former dog, she would have died right then and there.

Given one French and one Italian cooking school, I’ve not made grave errors since. There are actually successes and folks like my food. They actually say “Dee’s a chef.” I wouldn’t go so far, I’m a good cook that likes to cook for my family and entertain sometimes (when my husband doesn’t ask can we have so-and-so come over in 1/2 hour)?

Unless someone he knows and likes regularly comes over to see what I’m making for dinner, that’s a no, dear. I’m known to pick 5-6 cookbooks to open on my bed to come up with a menu. Then there are lists and shopping and prep. No, dear. Cheers and happy cooking! Dee

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Posted in Editorial, Family, food

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Re-Bar

Posted on November 14, 2017 | 1 comment

Yes, our tot lot was a mess for a long time with sand and rebar and large fences. I took out my old dog one morning and there were little kids in there who had climbed the fence and were inside with the rebar. I told them to get out, they were 2-6 years old. Otherwise I’d call their mothers.

It was seven in the morning. I did not know how to reach their mothers but they got out of the rebar and went home and called me every name known to mankind. I was now the witch that needed to be avoided at all costs. I just knew it was not safe in there and did not want to call an ambulance for a cut or rebar stick lest it hurt the kids.

Over the year our park was neglected. then finally padded footing was put in with plain vanilla slides et al. Nothing like I grew up with as a kid. The kids befriended my old dog Chani. They’re probably out of college and have wives and kids by now.

We were closest to two boys, Jessie and James. James was older and had a kind of gang of friends around. One day, Chani died. I rushed her to her doc but she’d bled out so we had to euthanize her. Friends came ’round to give their respects at the hospital, in the park and at the watering ceremony for the tree they gave our park in her memory.

I went out to our park and ran into Jessie right after she died, and his older brother James. I asked Jessie to come back behind the bushes with me. At six he was very manly. He did cry, then demanded to know exactly how Chani died. As a woman I did not understand this, and it led to seeing his big brother and his friends. Now. I’m going to yell at you for nothing “Don’t ever do that again!!!” so you can tell him about our Chani later.

A year later I lent them my breed book and they chose Sparky, a Jack Russell Terrier they named Sparky because of Dad, a sub sonar officer. They gave me back my book and I was the first person Sparky visited. Good friends. Here’s to good dogs! Dee

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Posted in dogs, Editorial

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Terms

Posted on November 14, 2017 | Leave a comment

Oh, there are many. Marriage is supposed to be forever. A car or apartment lease is short and usually renewable, we’ve never leased a car.

Jobs, my husband’s grandmother told me when I was introduced and interviewed in her dining room, that she wanted my husband-to-be (everyone knew it was “meet the folks”) to have the same job for 50 years and get a gold watch.

Sadly, I told her that this concept has never been in his industry, software engineering and consulting. She accepted me anyway and is a dear lady who is now 92. We talk to her every week and visit when we can do so.

Length of engagements. I think business. There is no trust, only skill and luck, in what my husband sticks his neck out to do for a client. There is a bias in play that I’ll tell you about later. It’s a tough one to write.

+++

OK, I’ll do it now. My husband grew up in Texas on a Dairy, now a Ranch. He has a slight Texas drawl. Very slight. He cannot work on the east coast because anyone with a southern accent is considered stupid.

My husband is a physicist and software engineer/consultant. He built a workshop as a kid to invent things and is a genius, better then three of his “peers.” I grew up in the north east and fit in, was smart and knew as a girl not to show it (no way wicked smart like him but in social sciences and literature) as I do emotional intelligence as well.

We did a map of all airport boardings and the Acela line from Boston to D.C. The elites with inherited money will not give him the time of day. He has to start from the midwest across the Mississippi and Missouri and bring us west where he can shine.

Dad always insisted as to amenities and especially views. We got him on those. He’s gone now, as of December, for a year and I miss his optimism, structure, enthusiasm, guidance and love of life. Joie de vivres! Dee

 

 

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Posted in Editorial, telling the truth

Life and Love

Posted on November 14, 2017 | Leave a comment

We decided to marry one Monday night, giving me four days to plan an elopement. As we are about to enter our 15th year of marriage I would like to thank our families and friends for sticking with us.

Tuesday afternoon we asked the Admiral (of the family clan, she ran the family ship) and Captain to help us out. She was a witness and we asked the Captain to be Deputy Marriage Commissioner for the day and marry us. After he went to the other room to collect his thoughts (their three sons called me “sis”) he returned and said yes, as long as he could write the vows. OK, I’ll type them up for you in caps, double-spaced. OK, deal. Then I told him he couldn’t marry random people on the street, only me and my husband!

We had a lovely lunch for eight then went to our new home, the Barbie House to call our folks. My favorite Italian restaurant gave us wedding cake. Then my husband lifted me through the doorway. There’s probably a bad photo of my butt on that one!

Life gives conundrums. How does one deal with this tax situation, this business debacle, everything. Yes, we disagree, a lot, but still love one another. I just feel like the skimpy little sister that only drafted laws for 34 million people and created articles of incorporation and bylaws for several non-profits. Ergo the skimpy little sister. I cannot say anything about my role as a consultant as it is not accepted because it was “only a non-profit.”

Now we spend our days creating bank accounts and finding accountants and lawyers. I need to meet them all, because otherwise even though I put my husband (as of 15 years) on my bank accounts and all accounts thereafter, when I called our bank they would say they couldn’t talk to me without my husband’s authorization because I’m “just the wife.”

Love and friendship have no limits between us. The people we need to help us in business, and the government, must know that I am an entity that has signing authority and knows everything. If, I knocked wood, my husband was hit by a bus I could sell the business or hire a designated professional to run it.

Love and friendship. Together, forever. Add dear old dog Zoe and it’s our family that will always be taken care of. Zoe and I will go before he does and I tried to have him promise to re-marry. It’s what I do to take care of business. Dee

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Learning

Posted on November 13, 2017 | Leave a comment

Over a decade ago, I was asked by my husband to clean his wedding ring and have our anniversary date and my birthday etched inside. I remember these things, including the day of our first date, that the absent-minded professor does not so do not need anything etched into my wedding ring.

Last week I asked him what day it was. Monday. Yes, anything else? Oh, is it your birthday? Yes. He bought me roses a week later.

I’ve crafted legislation the lawyers thought was flawless, they loved when I drafted a bill because I came up with the solution at three in the morning, wrote it in longhand and delivered it early in the morning. All they could say is they read it and I did all their work. I helped a 12 year-old from being conscripted into the Guard and sent overseas to battle because he wanted to help his Dad re-enact Revolutionary War battles as a volunteer. Those were the thorny situations for which I awakened at night. It took a few weeks for that one, but saving a 12 year-old kid and bonding him with his father and his passions fueled mine.

Older equals more “set in your ways” mode, like walking the dog four times per day, and feeding her, of course, writing. Of late we are on a new pursuit, a company and new life. Incorporation, bank, now accountant and attorney. My eyes are not as good as they once were and I’ve been retired for a while but believe I am up to the task. I was a consultant but my husband kept moving me around the country and world so I couldn’t maintain a practice without being permanently separated from him. Now he leaves me five days a week and that is “normal.” I get the dog and our home and he stays in hotels and has even learned to pack for himself. Imagine that.

I’m reading all these organizational documents and pass-through papers and it’s nothing I’ve ever seen. I believe it would be wise to go through them quickly then decipher what they’re actually saying on a second pass. I know boilerplate when I see it. It’s the rest I need to worry about. Enjoy your day! Dee

 

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Making a Difference

Posted on November 13, 2017 | Leave a comment

I believe I have and still do so. I started with high school and TItle IX. I was discriminated against through high school, college and legislative work, gender and sexual discrimination. It was a burden. Now I am told after I’ve had a bank account for 20 years and added my husband of nearly 15 years on the account that I am “just the wife” and need his approval before they speak with me of my accounts.

I would like to say that I make global changes. Perhaps I do, locally and regionally. They may percolate.What are my wishes? Make people equal and give opportunities and health care to all. Do not discriminate in employment and housing.

As to pets, please adopt from a shelter. You’ll have plenty of time, if it’s a reputable shelter, to get to know him or her and decide whether it’s a fit.

My first cat was sent to me at five weeks after falling off a 7′ shelf. I named him Nathan, God’s Gift. The dog kept her name Chani but had been severely abused by her owner, a deputy sheriff, and left out in the yard to have stones thrown at her by neighborhood kids. My last cat was nine weeks, was returned from an old folks’ home because he was too energetic. I called him Mick Dundee as he was fearless and dogs used to run away from home to play with him. He ended up being Mickey. Mouse, only sometimes. He learned to fetch crumpled post-it notes and drop them at my feet.to toss over the sofa again. He did sleep in Chani’s bed with her for a year so appreciated my dog’s brain.

If I’ve made a difference here it is that I’ve dealt with over 4,000 rescues and ferals. With education I’ve helped make spay/neuter a reality in several areas of the country. In the midwest and south, a gun is usually the solution. My husband’s family had a dairy for years and cats caught vermin, yes, and drank a bit of milk. Now they have a ranch.

My dog was to be relegated to a goat pen out back when she was going through two hip removals for the worst dysplasia our vet had ever seen. I told my husband we would not visit. His father cleaned and placed a dog crate in my husband’s old bedroom. She sniffed it and jumped up on our bed. Now she stands on his Dad’s place on the sofa and awaits his return from feeding the cattle. She’s a house dog! Farmers don’t understand that distinction. She’s a herder and follows me everywhere, not just being let into the entryway on a three dog night.

I made a difference in legislation and volunteering. Now I’ve other avenues. Cheers! Dee

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Posted in Editorial, editorial pets, Mickey Mouse

Talking About…

Posted on November 12, 2017 | 1 comment

Food. Yes, food.I was eight. All my younger siblings and cousins were doing cannonballs off the diving board at mid-point, to be determined, between our residences.

I was with the adult ladies discussing what to do for the next meal and who would prepare what dish.

Years later, Dad said “all you wanted to talk about was food.” “Dad, all you wanted to talk about was work.”

Why food? I met a lady this morning who grew up along the Mississippi River and ate whole hog, shrimp & grits, corn and potatoes and she has kin up north who keep up the hog fest up to this day in the yard.

Food brings people together. It solidifies families and makes new friends. Yes, if someone purposely treats me badly, I can have an acid tongue for a moment but that passes. I would rather bring folks together than tear them apart. Many years ago I and my boss were voted last to be by the punch bowl at the end of an office party. It was my punch bowl! Of 62 people on staff I was the only one with a punch bowl and ladle.

I had to dispense of the punch in the restroom sink, rinse the bowl and trek it home to wash. Why? because it made my extended work family feel like family. When not planning or doing, I feel like a geek at these events because I’m new and don’t know anyone in the room. Having a family atmosphere makes everyone feel comfortable.

Our living complex includes a revolving door. It is, for residents. Someone you met last week may be gone this week. We have pro athletes, doctors, et al. They have parties to reward us for being residents. Staff wear name pins. I’ve asked for cheap name tags for first names because I can’t remember the lady I met once while picking up a package.

Better yet, if you’ve a dog, add that as well. I’m more than likely to remember the dog’s name. “Sandra/Buddy” would work for me.  Dee/Zoe says “Oh, Zoe loves Buddy!”

Dad never understood my preoccupation with food, thought it foolish. I never did. In later years he did learn to cook Italian food and took pleasure in it. I did other things with my life, used my brain to help others instead of brain and hands. My husband was quite thin when I met and married him. His grandmother was worried about him in the hands of another woman. A year later, she saw him and said “I see you’re being fed well.” He can make spaghetti and meatballs but still not a grilled cheese sandwich “Oh, so that’s how you do it!” Really? Cheers! Dee

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