Category Archives: Editorial

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I’m Gibbs

No wonder I love NCIS. OK, a very understated Gibbs that gets to the root of a problem and solves it. No military haircut, no oo-rah.

There’s a bit of McGeek in me with cooking. No Ziva but I’d have her as a big sister any day, she would have prevented my hat from being taken and shredded in half by the Ferry boys on a half bus used in the countryside where we lived and was called the “retard bus.”

My friends, the dairymen’s kids made sure the Ferry boys would never harm me again. I never knew how they did that. That was Ziva and Abby. Her real name is Ruth and Abby found the hat and helped me with the principal and with forensics and photo identification. The principal thought her boots were strange.

Ducky is my friend from Glasgow where we lived for a while (really). I never knew his mother or the Corgis. Tony was insistent on gaining my daughter’s attentions but I knew better. The autopsy gremlin was a better match. If Tony’s to commit to anything it must be Ziva.

Of course absent is the Director, no the LA Director Hetty, sorry Rocky from ER, I love you but this is fiction. Some story.

Truth is that I had to tell three happy ending stories to a blind dog last night outside his new door to get him to settle down on a move across the way. It’s good to have our old neighbors back and to make up stories.

Let’s play NCIS! Hetty, your tea is ready. Please bring your cup and saucer. Dee

Compost and Dave Mason

My parents were at a dinner party in Washington D. C. a long time ago and we kids got bored so went down to the basement where they had a few 100 year-old wooden wheelchairs from a local hospital charity sale. We had races. Basement races in an old brownstone. Cool!

Then the older boy put on a record of incredible music as I was 12 and used to top 40. My musical ears listened. He showed me the cover. It was Dave Mason, and way out of my wheelhouse for the moment.

A few years later we were in a frigid climate with a pool, Dave Mason, Joan Baez, James Taylor, Bob Dylan (All Along the Watchtower, Ruben Carter) and many others to come when I took up guitar, PPM, Johnny Cash, CSNY and Juni Fisher. I keep my fine guitar hydrated, not played.

We had an open campus high school and I lived three blocks away. In late spring I’d run home, hop into our pool chair listening to Dave Mason with a double album under my chin with aluminum foil helping me tan. Yes, the old days. For the record, I never had the record in the cover. Plus, I never got a tan, just UV rays!

If Mom was gone and had locked the front door I jumped over the fence into the compost pile, went by the pool to the back garage and kitchen entry doors and changed, then hopped into the pool. Twice a day during study hall.

In winter months when our pool was covered, iced and snowed I just took extra gymnastics classes. Dave Mason, Bad Company, Elton John, the Beatles and compost helped me out those two years. Cheers from a geek teen. Dee

ps The girls and boys never trained or competed together. Before lawsuits became the order of the day, every night of summer when school was out they opened a gymnastics gym for all of us gymnasts so we could learn new tricks. I was never a good gymnast. I was a great Captain for two years, for leadership skills. Even kept my little sister in line, as she questioned everything from warm-up on. In summer we got the super-steamy and stinky wrestlers’ gym with a 4′ mat so we could practice flips.

pps I had a diva, a “ringer” from the gym I taught at, and she aced it at the state championships. She retired to the locker room and said we were all going to take her down. I told her that our team all stood and cheered for her and that if she dons street clothes and leaves now she is no longer on the team to gain her reward. She decided to root for the team. Tough love, seldom, but when there’s a diva….. d

 

Idea

My hip-less dog invited a blind dog in for the evening while his parents became our new (old) neighbors.

So I’m thinking we can invite over a deaf dog, one missing a kidney and one missing a leg.

Plus an artist and a deck of cards. It would be our own “dogs playing poker.” Thanks to all the veterinarians! Dee

Kindness

Our Swedish neighbor moved out last month kitty corner, he will be missed. He taught me how to make Kottsbullar, Swedish Meatballs, lent me his dad for art and horticultural pursuits, and I taught him true Pedernales Texas Chili (no beans). He left before our “final exams” which is when I would have made his dish and he made mine. Hopefully we’ll see him and his gal someday soon as they’re still in town. I think there’s a wedding coming up. He was a player but found the one.

Zoe has monitored our floor as the only dog for years. Now there’s a Labradoodle “pup” who weighed in yesterday at 2X Zoe’s weight. No worries. He doesn’t care about Zoe, just wants to jump up on “Aunt Dee” and lick my face.

As of last night there’s a new dog, sounded big, loud bark for a long time. I arranged with the pup’s parents to ask for all the dogs to meet and work things out. That will happen on neutral ground.

This morning I met the newest kitty corner neighbor and I knew her years ago from across the way. I know her dog. She agreed to meet and I said that Zoe was 85 in “people years” so would be retiring as hall monitor and crossing guard. It’s between the other two to see who protects us. Of course Zoe will “snoopervise.”

Everything happens for a reason! Who knows where we’ll be in the next few months? Zoe and I do lay claim to two of our neighbor’s grandkids now 8 and 10 who play a lot of soccer now in their home state. They visit a few times a year and stand by our front door and just whisper “Zoe” until she runs to see them. As they grow, Zoe will be a faint memory.

I brought a mason jar to the flower store today and bought a few yellow tulips and mini-daisies in a box with welcome card and purple wrapping. My next door neighbor, a retired architect, asked who might have left that by the door, given the barking dog last night, who was just upset at moving and change and owner leaving to keep moving. Plus I’ve had him for a couple of hours, half the time sitting in front of his new door telling him stories of moving and happy endings. Now they bark every few minutes at every sound they hear.

We took care of B yesterday evening for a few hours. B is blind. Zoe has no hips. What a pair. Everything is new to him but he’s really smart and found his way everywhere. Then he got scared so I let him lead me to their home while they were away, moving, and I made up stories about a dog and a new home with good folks who are moving so took their dog to a safe place. They’ll be home soon. After three different versions of the story (no scary stuff) he relaxed went down and I knew he’d be OK.

Back at our place he laid down on Zoe’s bed and slept a bit. When his folks came to pick him up he disappeared. Where was he? Our place. Zoe was out being petted, of course. Zoe THW (the hip-less wonderdog) learned not to prance around waving her only toy at a blind dog, and took care of him as Grandma all night, even though he was home. B learned a bit of trust of a person and dog he knew years ago and new environments.

Of course it was me who gave the flowers. Turns out she’s an old neighbor from across the way. Other than hearing “I love you” from my husband or my dad, certainly the kindest thing I’ve heard today, from my old neighbor of several years, is “I knew it had to be from you, you’re the nicest person I know.” So we’re getting money back from the feds and three states, but these compliments are worth a fortune.  Cheers! D&Z

Wheels Down

My husband touched down about an hour ago, not home but across the country but he is probably in Customs and on US soil in a safe place.

He’s been in India for work, a grueling week and I’m certain he’ll sleep the weekend away and be home a week from now.

I gave him a list from the NYTimes (thanks, Grey Lady) of what to do and what not to do. His favorite beverage includes an inordinate amount of ice and Dallas’ answer to Beaujolais, Dr. Pepper. He was deprived of both (you can’t drink local water/ice) so I asked him to treat himself to a huge glass of ice and Dr. P at the airport. No word from him for over an hour. He must still be at Customs.

He brought an extra suitcase with books and training materials. I’m getting worried though I’m glad they landed safely. He’s through and is driving to his hotel before he gets too tired. Whew! He sounds really tired and will call later, guess he didn’t get his DP and ice.

When a spouse can’t call for over a week it’s stressful, especially with taxes et al to be completed, but I did them as I have for years, before we were married I did his! He asked to meet me at the restaurant where we first met, on April 14 – nice timing – and showed me his W-2 and asked me to do his federal and state taxes, giving me the forms. The deadline, it was snail mail back then, was midnight on the 15th so I went over it with him at the restaurant, we made a copy, sealed the envelope and drove to the main post office about 10 p.m. and waited in line to place the envelope (in the running car) in the USPS mailbox.

That old car brings back memories of trips we took and stories that were shared. He sold it to a co-worker years ago. His colleague came to our going-away party and I asked if I could say goodbye to the car. I just looked at it, looked into the window and there was a baby seat in the back and I knew it was no longer “our” old car, it was theirs. Good.

Here’s a tax story. I did my own taxes and mailed them via USPS. Two days later they were returned to me for no reason. I spent a day dealing with the IRS and the USPS who finally said they made a mistake. The IRS waived penalties because it was the fault of the postal service. I’d sent the unopened tax envelope with postmark in another envelope with a postmark and IRS still said I had to pay late fees because even with the April 15 postmark it arrived late. Don’t trust the federal government! That’s all for now. I have to hope my husband doesn’t fall asleep on the freeway. Dee

ps He’s parked and is walking to his hotel. I’m sure he’ll get a lot of sleep but at least he’s safe. Last night I tried to put worry out of my mind with breathing and thoughts. I think I’ve worried since I was a little kid. It’s a hard habit to kick. Please don’t say yoga. Dee

 

Trust

At my advanced age I hate to say this but I really don’t trust people who have never had or loved a pet. Someone who has never cared for a spouse or living being their entire life because they’re “too busy” or wish to collect coins.

A guy asked me this morning about the white stuff on my dog Zoe’s coat. I said she was shedding her winter undercoat. Yes, spring is coming late up here. Of course she sheds her undercoat 365 a year, 366 on leap years. It’s all over floors and carpets even though I tend to it every 48 hours!

She has tufts coming out so needs a brushing, bath (I do that at home). 24 hours drying by herself then a comb-out. I need to pay some bills and do some business here so won’t get to that ’til the weekend.

As a young woman I asked why someone’s cat jumped on my lap and put his butt in my face. He was purring like crazy. He liked me! Yes, that was the answer.

I adopted two kitties after that who I had for many years and I knew their personalities, and neither placed their butts in my face, they walked aong my kybotf. Yes, mess up the keyboard. Nate was older and did not want to be chased by Mickey. Both purred. I bought them a blanket for Christmas one year only to lay on the sofa under it for five minutes while one went over and one went under and then wiggled out after they slept and they snuggled, unbeknonwnst, with each other so I could work.

There’s no disdain, just a lack of understanding of people who don’t “get” either people or animals. Zoe loves to be lifted up onto the bed but when the sun begins to come up she goes underneath, under my pillow so I can’t leave her. She’s a herder and a chow hound. She loves her one and only indestructible toy, we call “Precious.”

I believe one needs to take care of something, hamster, bird, fish, cat, dog, horse, cow or whatever before taking on a spouse and creating a family. Zoe’s hip surgeon, Dr. Val, used to have us stay over. When Zoe and went out the earth shook at 6 a.m. There were a horse and huge STEER, Pork Chop, following us in the yard thinking it was Val coming to feed them! It was a good lesson for both of us. Pup Zoe freaked out.

People I meet these days are living in a bubble. They’ve little or no family, no spouse and no pet and they hang out with strangers and talk about the weather or newspaper.

It is my wish that we build a cabin in the mountains and I have a huge chest freezer and shop at a grand market once a month and perhaps have a book club with ladies from town, and tea. On our own land I can toss a ball for our old Zoe without a $300 off-leash ticket. Get to know the neighbors, bring over banana bread or corn custard with chorizo. Take care of their dogs when they’re out of town. And host dinner parties with Texas Chili or whatever else is on my menu.

That’s who I am. They call me the dog lady. I can’t help it. I would be the cat lady as well but my husband is deathly allergic. There’s a story! Cheers, Dee

Nasty Things

Taxes, ugh. I finished them this morning. Feds and multiple states. Oh, don’t go to Maine. My husband was there for eight days and owes $500 for the privilege, and he can’t even eat seafood. That took 3 hours.

Then I spent a couple of hours on health insurance. OK, a few. After over two weeks we got a policy number that did not work. No policy, no cards, no proof. That was a downer after finishing and submitting taxes.

My husband has a very nice old car in our garage that’s battery is dead. It’s dusty because he’s been away on business so much. Mine is slimed with rain, snow and mush but it works and I just need to run it through the car wash.

His battery is dead. They’re power washing the garage next week and he’s still away so I arranged to have it towed (better than the alternative) to my mechanic and have a bit of work done on it.

Yes, I’ll get to the rest of the bills tomorrow, I was just a bit busy today and never even got to dinner at this late hour but took Zoe out four times and fed her twice. That’s what even dog “mom’s” do.

Business is the order of the day. That’s the way it is. Dee

ps There is a situation going on with family today, please help in thinking about all. Thank you, Dee

Barbie

I was never allowed to have one, and really I didn’t understand why my girlfriends liked them. Years later, my favorite college professor, Fr. Cap taught a class on, yes, Barbie. He pointed out her proportions if the doll was made into a woman, and making that the standard for male likes of a female figure.

The numbers were grotesque and unimaginable. Even Kate Moss wouldn’t have made the cut. The most enviable class in school showed us that women can be women.

Fr. C and I were friends for over 40 years, he was my advisor, before he died.

So I went and got a Barbie of my own, over 12 years ago. She was from a shelter and had worms and coccidia. A couple months after we got her at six weeks, already spayed (I draw the line at 8 weeks, not five) I had to make a decision to get her hips removed. She grew her own from cartilage, there were no hip replacements for small dogs back then.

She prides herself on beauty sleep of at least 20 hours per day, wouldn’t I love to look that good as she’s way older than me in people years.

She sits by my feet at all times and follows me everywhere,doing a serpentine in front of me when I’ve a load of laundry to fold. How could Barbie do that?

She’s a sweet, smart, intense, demanding herding dog who loves to sleep on our bed and pester us. Right now my husband is working elsewhere so she’s extra vigilant and is sleeping under my desk.

Mom is long gone but I have My Barbie, and she’s real. A rescue with no hips. It’s taken a lot of time and effort and training but she’s great with people (kids too) and other dogs, even some cats as she was trained by me and a cat. Don’t worry, we’re not looking for a doggie Ken. She was spayed at five weeks by the shelter.

Look for personality. Get your adoption dog or cat (yes, adopt) to a vet. Talk to your family. Then adopt. I say spend $100 then the rest on hip surgery!

Please adopt from your local shelter. You’ll find your own Barbie and Fr. C, God rest his soul, would appreciate that you love and care for that pet forever. We’re Franciscans, after all. Here in solitude with my girl Zoe, Dee

 

 

Losing

Mom always conveyed that I was loser, she was trapped, married to Dad and pregnant so stuck, back in the old days. Vacuuming in a dress and heels and high hair. She lost much but the year I graduated college she did as well. I was Deans’ List at 3.8 and she was summa and went on to accounting where she passed her CPA exam the first time. That was not a competition. I was very proud of her.

For several weeks now, and nearly all last year I’ve lost my husband to work everywhere. He always calls me every night but he’s overseas in India so even our new iPhone 6 S’ won’t work. Work on that, Apple.

It’s been a bit but I’ve got bruises that made it difficult to walk, sit and sleep. I couldn’t have caused them myself, maybe bruised a couple of ribs. Sleepwalking? Never did it in all my life. Maybe once I was tired so missed the bathroom by 10′ at age eight and tried to pee on a chair in the living room.

I’m also in the process of losing my right eye because of walking with husband and dog one sunny weekend afternoon and taking a spill on the very crosswalk I created. We are enrolled in health insurance but have no proof of it so no-one will see me. Pretty soon I won’t be able to see them.

Luckily my husband has a temporary international health policy for his journey. I don’t want to lose my husband, our family, our dear Zoe (the dog). No good deeds go undone. I need to do some research, pay some bills and finish our taxes. I don’t always win, but I do make things right. I don’t like losing and my husband says I even find my way through side streets to get around traffic. I do. Cheers! Dee

ps Love you, Dad! I miss you and hope you’re doing well.

 

My Framer

Ms. K has consorted with me several years to get important things framed. Today I’d like to share with her a print, Japanese block print from the artist who was the first in the 1700’s to do full color wood block prints.

Why do I have this print? I took care of a neighbor’s dog.

There is a frame I was unsure about. It was an idea I had, the usual three a.m. idea to re-frame a theater by revitalizing its’ youth program. I ran it by them and they didn’t like it but they were making $64 for three days and I decided to buy out the theater. I got a sponsor who wrote a check immediately.

They said they’d lose money. OK, $64 vs. $2,400 plus press attention. Gimme a break. Donors paid for all the tickets and we only asked for snacks for orphans. We did a Christmas tree with volunteer “gingerbread” ornaments made from grocery bags, a Menorah (donor, electric, don’t yell fire in a theater) and an homage to other religions.

It was The Firebird and The Christmas Roses. It was beautiful, I saw it twice. And I had to load up my Jeep and take all the gifts to the orphanage.

The youth coach got to keep his job. I got listed top of the bill as “coordinator.” All the kids signed this bill for me and I found it a couple years ago.

My framer and I consulted on it and for the first time she said she’d surprise me. It was the holidays back then so the playbill was all red and green.

It took two years but it goes over the old oak dresser my mother gave me, and with the red/green paisley duvet cover she gave as well, God bless her.

And what did my framer do? Make it look like a theater poster on a wall in NYC.  I love it. Kids for Kids was one of the greatest projects in my life and now I’ve ornaments and signatures of those present. That is what one remembers in life.

In addition to sponsorship a good friend donated in memory of her lost children, I love you Mrs.L. Dee