Category Archives: Editorial

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Swimsuit Edition: Dogs

Posted on February 16, 2016 | Leave a comment

This is the Westminster challenge, where they groom dogs and show them, then say that they are also “good family dogs.” How many city folk do you know that have sheep? How about cattle which our family has. Zoe played with baby lambs once on the farm then ran from them because they were rambunctious teens so I took her out of the goat pen. So much for being a herder.

Some hunters may want a birder but I’ve an Australian Shepherd mix that herds… me. Especially with food or laundry.

I saw one new Italian dog in the competition that is a digger, now trained to dig truffles. I doubt s/he could find a truffle around here but will always have nose to the ground. My dog looks around at her area from all sides but cannot see upwards to save her old life. Yes, she does sniff but only to do her business or chase squirrels. Don’t worry, she’ll never catch one!

I’m wondering why folks have and train and have handlers and groom dogs like crazy just to see what a breed could look like and what it was bred to do. Our 12 year-old dog has never retrieved a bird or killed a rat, ok, two mice in winter when they came out of the snow. My husband threw them over the fence for local wildlife as he knew I would not want to do five loads of laundry after she vomited the remains on our bed.

These dogs are bred for show, not work or families. Our Zoe is a real dog who herds us and keeps us company. She’s an Aussie mix we got at a shelter 12 years ago as a pup. Ours is a good family dog, even though she tries to get into her “magic room,” the kitchen, and serpentines in front of me with laundry.

She’s kind of a mascot around the community as she’s beta so most of the dogs love her and all the people know her name. That’s my kind of dog show. Let’s go for a walk, Zoe! Cheers from Dee

 

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Spiders

Posted on February 16, 2016 | Leave a comment

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! My bete noire is insects. They’ve loved me all my life. Show me a bee, wasp, no see-um, gnat, mosquito or spider that doesn’t come to see me. We always had to protect out west against the spiders, bitten in my sleep by several nasty hoboes, but never came across a Recluse.

My new husband almost lost me when the no see-ums took up space in standing water. Now we keep all our windows and front door closed and sealed. Why? We live over an old railroad track that is now, gleefully, a hike and bike path. Wait, it not only has mosquitoes, but rapists. Zoe and I don’t go there anymore, alone.

Said path has standing water 12 months per year with biting insects. I have been to every jurisdiction and no-one will do anything about it. The best lie I’ve been told was that these 4″ of fetid water is protected by the MMPA, the Marine Mammal Protection Act and cannot be messed with, I replied that I’ve never seen a porpoise or blue whale in 4″ of water, off a lake.

So here I am getting spider bites. They hurt and take a while to heal. My husband is away for a few days so decided to get me probably 100 sticky spider traps. With attractant. They smell like a stink spiders may enjoy. I took the entire package, wrapped it in a tall kitchen bag and placed it out in the cold on our balcony and shut the sealed door.

Thank you, dearest, for thinking of me. If I place that entire package in a closet I’ll be inviting every spider in the neighborhood to visit. Like a dog in heat with male visitors. (Don’t worry, I always spay our dogs and to date have only adopted two females, no males, since 1991). The trap package is staying outside in the snow until my husband returns. Then I’m giving some away, already have a few recipients. With love to my husband, cheers to you, Dee

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Bereavement

Posted on February 16, 2016 | Leave a comment

I awakened the moment my mother died, two time zones earlier. Jumped up in bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed the dog’s leash and went out for a long walk on the trail. Two hours later, 6:30 a.m. my time, my sisters called to say she was gone. I said, I know. It was a long week for all at hospice.

I’ve neighbors now who have saved the life of my dog when her leash was caught in an elevator door. His mother died and will be laid to rest tomorrow in a Jewish ceremony.

Our neighbors’ grandkids have been part of our lives for several years. My husband makes them balloons and we’ve cooked together for their parents and grandparents. Sunday, Miss A came by with a picture she made for my husband, me and Zoe.

Today I heard of their loss and left a note offering for Zoe and I to take care of the kids for a while, whenever needed. I also learned that where one sits shiva flowers are not welcome. I placed a small bouquet of spring flowers outside their door and was grateful to know that the huge bouquet next to it was from his father so it was OK.

I picked spring flowers. A white spider chrysanthemum. A strange fluffy green thing that is a relative to that species. Daisies, white and yellow, and a few greens. It looks lovely for spring which I hope will cheer them somewhat and me as well, as the snow is flying out there, who knows when it will end. May?

The grandkids, when they visit, stand outside our door and whisper dog Zoe’s name, louder and louder until she barks and I answer the door. They just want to play. They play ball in the hall or go for a walk taking turns with Zoe’s leash. It’s all with parental OK and perhaps grandparental supervision from K.

They are a lovely family and I mourn their loss and maybe I can make them a lasagne. I think that’s what I made for them the day they moved in. No, it was spaghetti and meatballs. I remember.

Again, K saved Zoe’s life, she was nearly strangled. I took the elevator upstairs to see my dead dog. Instead she was standing with K, on leash, happy to see her mom and food wench. God bless her for saving Zoe’s life. Dee

ps Miss A’s picture was of a pirate octopus. What are they teaching kids in school these days? I hope she stays away from pirates else her parents will have fits about her dating in ten years!

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Doors

Posted on February 16, 2016 | Leave a comment

Yes, they can open and close and perhaps a window could open for you as well. It’s happened for me.

The first doors I remember were on a home I moved into at age eight. They were solid wood Dutch doors painted red. I could release a peg and open the top, with diamond windows, let in air and see the view. That home had 60 casement windows operated by crank, and a few “picture windows” that were a standard size. I’d love to see that home again.

The Dutch doors gave me a window to see the outdoors when I was eight and my mother didn’t want me to go outside. My kindergarten class was held in an historic home with Victorian windows but only a few unremarkable doors.

The door to my 2nd floor classroom was always a challenge until my dear teacher made me sit up front and then go to the back with another student to read 4th and 5th grade literature as all the other students didn’t know how to read so they began teaching phonics. Steven’s and my parents objected to phonics as I was already reading Anne Frank’s diary and Death Be Not Proud at home. Now there’s an open door.

A closed door was omnipresent when I went to junior and senior high school at a racist school that did not teach. When I moved back north I had remedial classes I passed with honors and earned a small stipend for college.

Ah, the doors in high school. My last two years I’d run home (it was open campus), hop into the pool then go back to class, and spend hours in the summer evenings doing gymnastics with male and female colleagues. We learned so much from each other, being separated in training every day in school. I used to use the 4′ wrestling mat to try flips. What a stinky room, whew! I learned my best trick on the bars there and that we girls didn’t get strength training. I was the team captain and we had to know what the guys were learning.

To the doors of knowledge. Two professors put it all together me starting sophomore year. I got history through art and sociology and, yes, history and religion. My dear profs are gone now. I kept in touch with one for many years.

The porta clausa is an image found in some artistic works by historic artists. It means that the door was closed and Mary was visited by an angel and told of her mission to bear a son. I did a study of annunciations and tried to visit many. My favorites are Donatello’s in Santa Croce and Fra Angelico’s at San Marco, both in Florence.

Work after college opened some doors. I worked in government, as a lobbyist, in a couple of restaurants in the kitchen, consultant to non-profit organizations and as a 20 year volunteer.

That door was opened when I decided to volunteer in the memory of my brother and sister’s dog. That door was closed. I opened another by stepping in and doing everything from kennels, cattery, public relations. I sat by one dog’s side even with me in a neck brace, for a year. She was afraid of men (abused by a deputy sheriff) and kids (stoned in the back yard of said sheriff).

It was one of the first of US no-kill shelters but a fellow volunteer told me they had a meeting to put her down. The adoptions chief said wait a week. Next day I had her home, for ten years. She and my old cat, also a rescue, slept in the same position three feet away. My young cat moved in at nine weeks, a rescue from the same organization, in bed with the dog and stayed there for a year.

My dog Chani opened a door for me and many others, and the neighborhood planted a tree that I can now see on Google Earth, for her, in 2001. Another rescue needed us at five weeks of age and that is our Zoe. She grew her own hips and is the happiest dog, after 20 years of volunteering, I’ve ever met. She’s sleeping behind my chair and taking good care of me. If there were two open doors I love most today, they are my dear husband and dog.

Cheers! Dee

 

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A Note Pad or Google Chrome

Posted on February 16, 2016 | Leave a comment

At 3:00 a.m. I awaken to my best ideas for writing, and many other areas such as cooking or how to revitalize a non-profit theater. I’ve always reminded myself to keep a note pad by the bed. I do not. Last night I had three three-fer blog posts based on three single words. After awakening, dressing for the weather, taking out the dog and feeding her I forgot them all.

Perhaps later in the day I’ll remember.

Then there is Google Chrome from which I write this blog. They are discontinuing service for all who do not have the newest OS on their Mac. My Mac is old, my iPhone is brand new and while Google Chrome was good for a while, see ya later.

I believe a car is supposed to get me from point A to point B. I believe a computer is a tool, like pencil and paper, to achieve any means like writing, spreadsheets, internet searching et al. My car is 12 years old. My computer is eight years old. My phone was eight years old. They all worked. OK, when we had friends over for dinner one night they all put their cell phones on the coffee table then asked what I had. Their phones all laughed at mine. But it wasn’t until I couldn’t contact my bank that I got a new phone.

Yes, I’ll need a new computer, but Google Chrome, why are you doing this? My husband has upgraded my OS to the limit and bought more memory. Even a new hard drive and battery. Yes, he’s a software guy.

Google Chrome is supposed to get me internet access and access to this blog. Why are you going to block it? Guess I’ll have to go back to Firefox or Safari. Remember something.

I do not carry a Paris Hilton dog in my handbag. I’ve a 32 lb. rescue dog with no hips. I wear Crocs. I’m not interested in looking good in the neighborhood while I walk the hipless wonder dog. I’m not interested in showing off my new phone or having people see my computer array (yes, wireless keyboard, 24″ flat screen monitor and Bluetooth printer that could flatten a bus if only I could lift it). All the ideas of my better half.

It’s all pencil and paper, point A to point B. They’re tools. My precious objects are here with me, dog Zoe, or a husband away on business for a couple of days.

I just remembered one of my themes. Back after I have breakfast. Dee

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I Missed a Lot

Posted on February 12, 2016 | Leave a comment

I get up in the morning to walk the dog, of course, but before I do that I put down the shades.

Why? To protect art. In our living room I’ve a story that will keep you going for weeks. It is a quilt by my dear mother-in-law. After years we’ve made it into a seasons quilt. I only helped a little bit with the concept as I failed my Girl Scout sewing badge at age seven.

In our “den” we’ve a 100 year-old quilt from my husband’s family with many stories to be told. I close the blinds to prevent the sun from shining too brightly on these cherished works of art.

Don’t worry, I leave them up to the bottom window so our old dog Zoe can watch squirrels out the window. It won’t hurt the quilts, or squirrels.

Our neighbor is a Swedish architect, retired now. He liked one work I picked out at the University of Glasgow. When James McNeill Whistler died he left everything to his sister. When she died, she left everything to the University. I got to see his entire studio as it was the day he died. Going out, I found a print I really liked, a nude (not really because her legs were crossed and she had a book over her upper parts) that was not Whistler’s mother. It’s dainty and I framed it well and not expensively.

I’ve had over thirty years to travel, have not used much of it but Fr. John would be proud. A cook, not an artist, I may make my teachers proud. I did learn history! Dee

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Note: Try Video Later

Posted on February 12, 2016 | Leave a comment

I got a great history in art from Fr. John, then a lesson in Renaissance and Reformation in history from said priest.

When my father turned 80 he took up art. As you walk into our home we’ve a Tuscan landscape on one wall and Maori art on the other. Plus a charcoal drawing of dancers from the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, from a student about thirty years ago. Dad painted two, and bought me the drawing.

There is a print to the left and more photos to the right in the kitchen. Not all food-related. Directly in front I framed the Brooklyn Bridge in b/w for my husband. Down the hall there are two framed photos I took on an historic tour, one of a mill in Vermont and another of Concord grapes near where I grew up.

I call these three “the greens” because they each have a different frame and matte color but our focus is on the Creek. I’ve loved that creek for many years and the photographer was much better than I, though I do hope my framing choices do it justice.

In the bedroom the piece de resistance is over our bed, another raw Tuscan countryside. I went to a consignment shop in Houston perhaps ten years ago and was looking for a nice piece to store china. Checking out the drawers I found two Tuscan, signed and numbered lithos and scurried out of the store. Forget the dresser/server, I paid $4 for them and then $150 to double-mat them years later.

There are three Tuscan artist-made paintings of local towns from a guy I really liked. They’re all double or triple-matted in wood frames. My framer also helped me do a tryptich of my long shots of the Greek seas. And, for my husband, a crayon drawing of The Wizard of Oz. It’s his favorite.

I’ve others to put up, but one is newly important. I took care of a dog for a friend and she brought back a Japanese wood block print for me. It is key because in the 1700’s he was the first artist in the world to make full-color  wood prints. It is of a courtesan receiving an invitation and I look forward to meeting with Ms. K. to frame it. Let’s see what shows up below from former work. That’s my Dad’s Tuscan work.

DSCF0071

Too dark to do photos. New phone so no experience except not answering wrong numbers from gang members and just making a few calls. Kindergarten level. Framing art to make it look as good as it can be is fun. Also expensive. As to my mentor’s photo below, I will be buried there. Not there but miles away. She always made my and many others’ days. Cheers! Dee

DSCF0072

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Changing Things Up

Posted on February 11, 2016 | Leave a comment

Yes, we move from time to time. We’ve been married over 13 years now and see things on the horizon.

I get to see the little things. I lived on my own for years so never had to think of these little things, like making dinner for two, feeding and walking a dog and keeping certain things separate. Suitcases. I used to be able to pack for us in less than 12 minutes. After 14 years he packs himself (first time for everything) and I stay out of his way. Of course all his shirts, pants, socks et al are clean and folded in his closet. Magic!

Most dishes go in the dishwasher so that’s all the same. Some things are blue/purple for him and red/pink for me, like toothbrushes. We can tell our glasses apart (I hate Dr. Pepper) and I don’t wear contacts.

Then it comes to cell phones. Mine was eight years old and even my bank would not allow me access. Years ago I got a bright pink case because we had the same phone back then (he drowned one fly-fishing then progressed several times) and I didn’t want him to take mine to work and have my list of contacts instead of who he needed to contact for work.

Now we’ve the newest iPhone on the planet and it’s huge and heavy and I don’t text and don’t know how to use the darn thing. I don’t care. I only call and answer calls. We both got glass and he has a hard case because he keeps his phone in his pocket and drops it on concrete a lot. I got a clear case with a rose gold back on my phone so he’ll never board a flight without his phone or contact list. I keep mine connected in the kitchen (away from water) and in my purse when on the road.

Newlyweds, forget about what the bridal magazines are trying to sell you. You will not be reading the Sunday paper and doing the crossword on the sofa. You will be worrying about where to put Great Aunt Linda’s china and taking care of your husband when his allergies kick in. Then you’ll have kids, at least a dog. Walks, soccer, school, runny noses. Whatever. Just remember when you take out Fido, you pick up and safely transport the poop to an approved receptacle. I am happily married to a very smart man, and am glad that you read this blog. Cheers! Dee

ps Ask me about the one fly-fishing trip another time……

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Sleeper, Keeper, Herder

Posted on February 11, 2016 | Leave a comment

My husband is off on business for a few days so old dog Zoe is following me around. I am the Food Wench, after all. I walked a few feet from bed where she has taken my husband’s side, to the office to write this and in less than two minutes she was at my side.

I got her a small dog bed and placed it on the carpet. A minute later she is sound asleep again. A week ago she turned 84 in people years. She’s gorgeous, vivacious, loves everyone and is kind of a mascot around here. She sleeps probably 20 hours per day, plays, walks, entertains visitors and people think she’s a puppy. She looks for blue pants with a dark stripe (the mail man or her favorite postal worker Lynn who is still in the neighborhood but not here) because she loves them. And neighbors’ grandkids come over and whisper her name hoping she’ll hear and bark once and I’ll open the door. I’m younger in people years and wish I looked as good.

Now she herds me room to room, whatever I’m doing. My Aunt L used to call it “being by.” Make the bed, I have to walk around her at the foot of it. Fold laundry. You get it. But the best place is her Magic Room, the kitchen, where food is unloaded, prepped and served. She has her own menu but will occasionally be slipped (not by me) a sliver of apple or a grape. OK, my husband likes making popcorn and one or two popped kernels may go her way. He’s the fun guy, I’m food wench and disciplinarian.

As she is so old I’ve been thinking dog names and breeds. I don’t really want to get a pup that will drive her crazy but don’t want to get a pup that I’m too old to raise and my husband will not wish to carry on.

All my life I’ve dealt with damaged goods and have made good of two cats and two dogs over 20 years of volunteerism on their behalf. Zoe was our first shot at formative behavior, not a violent environment. Education, not rehabilitation. She and her litter were in a bad home and she needed to be rehabilitated for health reasons but was six weeks old, spayed at the shelter (too early for me) and got out of a filthy environment with her litter mates with severe coccidia and hookworms. That was remediated in two days with fluids, antibiotics and de-worming. I asked the vet if he was going to do sub-Q fluids and he came clean with me on her condition. Thank you, 2,000 feral cats and your ER!

After dealing with thousands of feral and other cats and hundreds of dogs, this shelter pup, now 12, is the happiest I’ve ever met. She’s so friendly to everyone. I must say she doesn’t stand for new pups chewing on her legs but she stands up, doesn’t growl and though my father has never met her, she’ll give the pup the “old eagle eye” stare Dad was famous for with my high school dates! They got me home before 11:00 because my parents said “bad things” happen after eleven. What bad things?

No-one challenges Zoe because, like Dad, she’s got a good heart, is a marshmallow inside, and is persistent to get whatever she wants. I hope he reads this. It is a tribute. Now I’ve gone and married a version of Dad and adopted a dog like him as well. Cheers and have a great day, Dee

 

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Houses

Posted on February 10, 2016 | Leave a comment

We live a block from a large body of water. When the automobile was invented rich people started to build huge vacation homes along the coast. behind them were carriage houses for staff, horses or cars.

I look at these homes from the 15th floor of an apartment overlooking said body of water and wonder about floor plans and rooms. My husband is a physicist and learned to be a software engineer by technical books. I have many cookbooks but he has Numerical Recipes.

When it comes to life, not work, he wants to read about white water rafting, I want to do it in a huge rush of water with a guide and learn in real time. When it comes to a place to live, he needs to see it. I need a floor plan and to find out places and amenities, parking and moving truck and reserving an elevator. He wants to see security (for my and our old dog’s sake) and trim level. He’s a consummate “shopper” researching everything from guitar humidors, headphones to cell providers. He wants to spend time checking them out so we partner as my goal is to weed places out so he has to spend less time looking for a place to live.

So, I look down at these homes by the sea and see two huge places, one French, one English, ten feet away from each other. I imagine 100 years ago that two family members purchased them as beach get-aways. Now, they are student housing.

There’s a place my mother-in-law walked by a few years ago and said “I love this house! It must be 1910.” The owner was mowing the lawn and said, “yes, it’s 1910.” It’s a Tudor with attic space, smaller but gorgeous and beautifully maintained.

I look down and see huge places built like Dutch barns or Colonials or modern condos and wonder why they live here. I figure out in my head the floor plan and how many bedrooms and know where the kitchen, dining and living rooms are, and the master bedroom. Of course the trees have grown over the years so they have proximity to water but not a view.

There’s the “castle” a quarter mile away that must have had some parties back in the day. Round drive, porte cochere, many fireplaces. The top floor has plywood in the windows. The woman who lives there (my husband has met her while walking Zoe) drives an inexpensive car and I opine that she lives on the first floor and keeps the pipes working but was left the place by grandparents and doesn’t have a million dollars to fix it up.

The carriage houses are another thing, built on a back street behind the home. I’ve only been in one. The main floor was gorgeous. Basement tolerable but needed updating. The carriage garage was lovely, big enough for a car and motorcycle.

Since we do and have had new snow I get to notice which homes have snow on the roof and which do not. My mother-in-law, a nurse, home builder and renovator, liked that. If it still has snow it has good insulation and a good roof. One would not wish to purchase the reverse.

We’re having a cold week but it may turn to Spring soon. I’ve got a welcoming sign with bluebirds and leaves on our door. Last week it was warmer and I heard birds chirping and saw squirrels (luckily Zoe didn’t see them, though she’d never catch one).

When I look at a floor plan, I consider if we can live there, if our needs are met and if our furniture fits. Unless we are buying all we can do is set up and put up some artwork. I enjoy a five-piece master en-suite. Spoiled. I know. Two sinks, toilette, shower and tub.

Most 70’s and plans before that have closed off areas where the maid made dinner. I make dinner and we prefer to interact with family and friends. We live in a small, open (2 br) space with floor to ceiling windows in every room. A while ago we had a MYOP (make your own pizza) party for a family with two kids, six and two. I made all the dough and toppings in advance and let them roll out their dough and choose. Then they made dough to take home and let rise. They liked it (except the smoke alarm going off for the pizza) because there were hand prints all over our windows!

That is the kind of home I’d like. View, safe, secure, parking, dog-friendly, friend and family ready with space for guests and an office for me. And no plywood covering the windows. What, is that too much to ask? Dee

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