Category Archives: Editorial

Welcome to the blog

It’s About Everything

Yes, that’s life, as Frank Sinatra sang it. Many people concentrate on one facet, whether it be sports, math or English literature.

Youth is, indeed, wasted on the young. Older doesn’t necessarily mean wiser but in my case, it works. I had a great family and was taught so much.

When every experience from being bullied to volunteering for a soup kitchen line to cooking school, helping feral cats and adopting four rescues over the past twenty years, I had an education that rivaled my formal education and career. Yes, I also credit my two favorite priests, Fr. Cap and Fr. John, both gone now.

They wove meaning into the fabric of my life. I learned about how history and traditions make us who we are, to accept people we don’t know and, above all, respect, appreciation and honesty.

Through my parents, relatives, teachers and friends I’ve learned much. And my husband teaches me physics lessons while listening to country music on the car radio on long drives. Do you know what’s coming out of that smokestack? No, dear. I can tell by the color……….

Also, having a pet can make a difference. There’s a real responsibility and I’m shirking mine now as I’ve taken her out for “last chance” and she is not by my side. She wants me to lift her up to the bed for her beauty sleep. She’s gorgeous and just turned 84 in people years. She has no hips so cannot jump up by herself. If I slept 20 hours a day I might look that good.

A pet is a grounding experience, especially without a child. So is music, the written word, writing a blog or Haiku or poems.

My husband’s gone for work but I still read cookbooks and make my own recipes and wish for him to come home soon to try them. Yes, my hobbies are cooking, writing and shelter pets/feral cats (spay/neuter). I have had perhaps my last shelter pet, hopefully not, because a dog gets me out to walk and meet people and other dogs. Zoe is old but fine.

Life is about everything and how playing touch football on a dead-end street or softball in our back yard was so special as a kid. The neighborhood kids called on us early and asked for Dad. Mom said they had to wait until the end of dinner. Dad’s only rule was that everyone got to play and play fair. I remember one kid picking up his little brother and running him from first to second base, a tree, and home (we didn’t have that much space) and everybody won because were all the home team. Even toddlers got to play on Dad’s team.

Honesty, integrity, a sense of fairness for everyone, life is about everything. Cheers to you and your family, Dee

I’m the Wichita Lineman

When I was a kid in the northeast I didn’t understand southern or western music. I was playing classical violin and piano at the time. I was also dancing ballet. I gave everything up. Partly because I was forced to do at least four activities after school and on weekends, partly because we moved to the big city and I wanted to do other things like hang out at the mall. Wouldn’t that be a great choice in life – I could have become a shopper.

As kids we laughed at Glenn Campbell and Johnny Cash because they weren’t top forty when I was twelve. I was listening to other music.

At age fifty I finished our taxes, got a refund and went in to by a guitar. It was the wrong one for me and so were my private teachers. One was a religious zealot and the other a drummer. I quit lessons and we moved around the country but bought a beautiful guitar, a Seagull Artist Folk that I hydrate and take out every once in a while to make up a song.

Today, my husband was in an auto accident after 12 hours of flight due to many flight delays. I hope he is OK, haven’t heard word from a hospital but he’s over 1K miles away and I’ve no contact and am scared.

I would hate for anyone to go through this. I’d write a country song about it but now I’m only concerned about my husband and his life. It was a fender bender and everyone is OK and the incident properly transcribed. Traffic, as he didn’t remember, so goes it and I’m hoping he’s sleeping soundly, after hanging out his clothes. Yes, that’s always what a wife thinks about first. Everyone is OK.

Elton John, 3Dog Night, Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, Bad Company. Of course then Dave Mason, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, CSNY, Peter Paul and Mary,and Joan Baez. Our songs also come from Pete Seeger, Arlo and his dad Woodie Guthrie and so many others. Oh, Patsy Cline and Walking after Midnight. I haven’t even started on Jazz, that’s because I just look at the lyrics and make up the chords. It’s a challenge and Joan Baez is way out of my league. I can sing, but not play her. Diamonds and Rust.

To the rose and the briar. The rose says he’s OK, the briar begs to differ, from a grateful wife who would wish to be at her husband’s, and her dog’s sides while we share a place together. Someday, Dee

ps The Briar just called her husband halfway across the county and said “being with you is sometimes a pain, but being without you is a loss more than words can say.” I want to tell him something every moment, as he does with me, I miss him so.

To Non-Boxed Foods

This is an editorial to The New Republic for saying what many people who can cook say this is horrible, to those can’t cook say there are terrible instructions.

I’ve never done one of these companies. I chose one in the Rockies for their apple juice, so fresh and tasty. Then I bought the cooler that they would leave at our door at 3 a.m. every week.

I got to choose the bacon, OJ, apple juice, milk and many other ingredients, a lot frozen but I didn’t go that route.

The real reason I chose them was that every week a heavy basket (cooler) was filled at my door and I also asked them for a mystery box and I had to make all those local ingredients no matter the season. No, they didn’t give it to me, they sold it to me but I was in a rut, cooking-wise, and whether it was berries in the summer, chanterelles, butternut squash I was enamored of this mystery box. I’ve always thought out of the box so this was a treat for me to cook for us, family and friends.

If you would like to know of this company please write in. I think they give (sell) local people who actually cook a way to use local, vital ingredients and they don’t give you packets. I believe that when someone one fills my cooler with juices, bacon, milk and perfect lamb et al they do well and it serves my husband and pantry so I can fill it up at the grocery for veg in winter. I can make up my own recipes for whatever I wish to make. That is my challenge.

Yes, if I were back in that town I’d put a call in and place my cooler outside the door and look forward to those weekly deliveries and what are the ingredients in the surprise box I need to use. Kiwis? Spaghetti squash? Pummelo? Bring it on. All the best to your cooking adventures, check out farmers’ markets soon. Dee

Hail to the Feds

In order to allow an employee access to a 401 (k) plan one at the poverty level may contribute up to 75% of earnings. Above that level, it is a maximum of 10%.

The country mouse will deny the family food if s/he contributes to the childrens’ education, and middle class folks or city mice are not able to save for retirement. And then one wonders why MediCare is troubled.

How messed up are our rich senatorial and congressional representatives? They have their own health insurance, security, lifetime pension. Heck, I’d run for office, for that. I can’t buy health insurance because the insurance companies I’m with now do not deal with anything but being subsidized by the Marketplace.

I cannot purchase at cost insurance because no-one will answer the phone. Representatives do not know how to deal with individual clients or small businesses.

My father-in-law doesn’t trust government in any shape or form. We can sit across the dinner table a couple of times a year (yes, MIL and I cook constantly for all) and argue politics and their sons won’t get into the mix. We agree! Government has messed everything up for centuries. I don’t know how to fix it but everyone has to do a little thing every day.

Help an old lady and get the crosswalk she pioneered re-painted this Spring. Call the City or County and stop an after-hours biker bar from being installed a block from our homes. It’s enough that I’m awakened in my bed at 2:00 a.m. from the bars. Enough is enough.

With the so-called founding fathers, were founding mothers who cared for and counseled their spouses. While staff made dinner, I know.

We have to get people to vote, and elect a Congress and President that reflects the people. I don’t care which party, I’m independent. Apathy is not an excuse. Just call the County and have the ice taken off the sidewalks. I just heard our weather and snow gear is outsourced out of state. How many cars are totaled and people killed because we can’t forecast our own weather or plow our roads?

It’s a mystery to me. I’m used to working for government and other entities and getting things done. Apparently our taxes do not pay for that anymore. Dee

 

 

 

The Almighty Dollar

My weekly allowance was fifty cents. For that I had to work for several hours on our country property (no, not a vacation property, our home).

Under age ten, I was the eldest so when my parents had to attend a dinner event for work I was hired to babysit my sisters and brother. That was fifty cents per hour, not per week. Soon I began buying my own “tennies” and jeans.

For me it was not the money, it was being respected and appreciated for what I could contribute to the cause, back then it was my parents and family.

It still is, and should be, along with my own family. Yesterday I made a recipe from a Canadian cookbook, a pepper steak my cousin made 20 years ago and I bought the book. I gave my husband three pages from three different cookbooks yesterday. He chose the pepper steak (I used skirt steak) and loved it.

He won’t be around much longer and I’ll do simpler things for just me. No, he’s not dying or anything, just going away for work and should be back every week or so. I just can’t justify dirtying many pots and pans for me. I’ll do an organic mac & cheese in the microwave and not have to do dishes.

This is going to be a good weekend. He wants to see Star Wars. If he’s going to be eating burgers every night I want to make three great dinners that he’ll remember. Tonight is vegetarian lasagne, (see my 10-minute lasagne) but with a twist. A pesto of basil and arugula integrated into the ricotta and mozzarella or as a separate layer. I’m thinking separate. It’ll be tasty. Dee

 

Clearing the Decks

In more ways than one. First, there is a story. Achieving goals is my husband’s premise. Now he is trying to cook a few things I’m teaching him. He gets the goal but leaves it to his teacher and minion, the dog, to clean up after he uses every pot, pan and dish in the kitchen! Yes, has had staff.

In the end it is my kitchen to keep and keep up. He is very tall so does not get to the lower cabinets very easily. I do not get to the upper cabinets so it’s a match made over 14 years ago, in heaven.

When I get ready to prep, cook and clean up, it’s time to clear the decks. The Navy Captain, a gent who married us 13 years ago would agree, wholeheartedly. We flew to his burial at Annapolis, where I’m invited to visit any time. I would worry if he ever got into his lovely wife’s kitchen.

Anything drying on a dish mat, anything in the sink, run the dishwasher, do hand wash of knives and others. He wants a meal. I work to make it happen but do clear the decks completely before I prepare food. That may even mean placing tea towels and dish mats in the laundry and running that as well. Both take forever.

That said, I’ve been trying to change up our menu these nights. Last night I cleaned and cut up a pork tenderloin and submerged in salt and pepper, and hard apple cider for an hour then cooked it on the stove with roasted red potatoes and a salad I’d pre-made with a lemon vinaigrette I poured on at the last minute.

The other night I made Acorn-fed pork ribs, sort of St. Louis style, with a rub of salt, pepper, Ancho chile powder and smoked Paprika, and a pinch of sugar. 1.5 hours in a 325 degree oven covered in foil then I slathered on some Rufus Teague bbq sauce and my husband placed it on the grill for five minutes, served with baked potatoes.

Tonight I may go back to an old favorite we haven’t had in a couple of years. I just need some chicken, prosciutto and Fontina d’Aosta. I have butter, bread crumbs, potatoes and garlic with which to saute the remainder of the arugula. Who knew I could become an Italian grandmother? Certainly not our German, Swiss, Scottish ancestry.

Cheers and have a great day. Dee

What Will I Do?

Of course I would be there. I’ve only had four rescued pets over the past 20 years. One was sent to me as a “surprise” that fell off the 7′ shelf upon which he was born. My brother smuggled him 3,000 miles away and I had to learn how to take care of a cat. He was a Burmese mix, a talker, and always got the last word in until heart disease and pneumonia had me hold him while he got the pink needle.

My Chani was a fighter. She’d bled out, a tile man helped me lift this 90 lb. dog to the back of my Jeep and she stood up five times. We were tougher at the shelter then home for  ten years while she learned to trust children and man. The clinic was great and has buttons to push and now a separate wing for dying animals.

My other cat loved a Corgi named Ein who recently passed, and I could not marry my husband with a cat, as he is very allergic to the feline species. Mick was about seven and had a back yard and tree house and loved it. I think the coyotes got him as all the neighborhood dogs would run away from home to see him and I’d get phone calls. I’d look out the window and say, yes he’s here!

Now my husband and I, after a year of marriage, went to adopt a dog. She’s an Aussie mix, a herder. She drives us nuts, staring at us for food, going out, her “precious” ball. She is a shelter dog but the first one we got to raise, train and be our own. My husband can’t deal with euthanasia but if we decide she is too ill to live we will need to be there together. He helped raise her, and must be there with me.

Today I pour a cup of water on a tree that was a favorite place for two neighborhood dogs. When my Chani died neighbors bought a tree for the park and we all poured water on it, I can now see it on Google Earth. I bring it flowers.

My dog is getting old and so am I. I don’t know if there’s a “next.” I can’t see it as my mother-in-law always expects Zoe to clean up crumbs and father-in-law doesn’t pay her any mind but knows she always looks out for him and his grandkids. Yes, standing on his place on the sofa, looking out until her herd comes home.

This is for Liam, thanks Wurli for being a good friend, Zoe and Dee

Zoe is 12

Our pup lived a filthy existence before she left her “home” for the shelter before she should have been weaned, or spayed. We met her and asked for her and she had a hold at the shelter by someone else. We met other dogs but no-one like her.

The next morning we were called with a lift on the hold so she could be ours. She had an unfortunate name I’d gone to lengths to correct after we finally adopted her, she jumped out of the box at just six weeks and sat on my lap in the car and looked out the window.

Coccidia, hookworms, done asap, then double hip dysplasia several months later and she had to go through six months of surgery and rehabilitation. Before surgery she would roll down the hill if she felt threatened and just give up her tummy. No-one took it. She is a sweet, beta girl.

We have a herder. She’s still a pup in our eyes. I gave her three little glusamine/chondriotin/sea cucumber bits yesterday atop her food.

Yesterday our Zoe, Greek for life, turned 12 years old. She’s still great with adults, kids and other dogs. Kids call on her. She loves being in my car, and has a 4″ orthopedic bed in there with a net and dog bowls et al. On the highway she sleeps, and only pops her head up at an off-ramp or street light.

We’re going on 14 years of marriage and Zoe took a lot of work but turned into a really great dog. January is always a great month to say what we are grateful for. Dee

 

 

Take Nothing

Dad used to say you knew you were in power when you brought nothing to the board room. To this day I do not know why Queen Elizabeth II brings her purse throughout Buckingham Palace. I keep mine on a hook by the door, with the dog’s leashes.

Aside from the thief they caught a couple of weeks ago who was vandalizing our fellow residents, I don’t know why I would sit in our living room with my purse.

I’ll give the Queen some leeway here because she loves her Corgi’s but am certain their leashes are not on a hook by the front door. Nor her handbag of choice that day.

Dad said if you’re in charge you just show up, not with a briefcase or sheaf of papers or laptop.

My husband asked to accompany me to the grocery store yesterday to get out of the house after work. I let him drive my car. Inside the grocery he stared down at his new iPhone and walked down an aisle looking for Indonesian soy sauce, that I can only get on Amazon Prime.

I found what we needed and looked for him and there he was, 100 feet away staring at his phone, looking for Indonesian soy sauce. So much for going outdoors and helping the wife!

My husband has many technical books. He’s a physicist and self-taught software engineer. He used to bring a bunch of books to work and place at his desk. Now they’re all on the shelf. I do cooking recipes and he does numerical recipes. All he brings to the table is himself. No data-filled briefcase, no books or laptop or spreadsheets. It’s just him. Take him or leave him.

I am lucky to have been with him over 14 years, yes I chose the plus column. The physicist and the bleeding-heart non-profit consultant have been together with their dear dog for many years. He says I picked him up in a bar. It was lunch a week after 9/11 and we were all talking over burgers at TGI Friday’s.

We exchanged numbers and I threw his away. He called the next evening, opened his car door and took my hand, that was it. Years later he sold his car to a colleague. When we moved away we had a party and I asked the owner if I could say goodbye to our car. It had a baby seat in the back, definitely not ours. I looked through the window and thought of our life together beginning with him taking my hand and never letting go. I hope that spirit is still with the car…….

Please live your life. I denied mine, embraced it, then settled down after 40. A happy camper I am, would say Yoda. To the table, take trust, Dee

Winning

No, it’s not the lottery. I won something once, because I was the only one to answer the deli man’s inquiry to a song. I opined that it was Orpheus in the Underworld by Offenbach. Yes, the Can Can dancer song.

The next day he graciously gave me a sandwich and was amazed that NPR proved me correct. “How did you know that?” Must be Dad and my grade school music teachers.

I’ve played the lottery three times, a dollar with co-workers. My own lottery has turned up well. I grew up in a good family, married into another with an adopted grandmother and have a family of my own with a husband of nearly 14 years and a dog age 12 that we’ve had from six weeks. She has no hips, grew her own from cartilage as a pup after two surgeries from our cousin Val the Vet. We could have called her Lucky, rather than Zoe, but Zoe is Greek for life so early on before health issues we named her well and she loves Cousin Val.

My luck has gotten me two families, a husband, a dog, a hip surgeon she loves, and us and that’s more than enough for me. I won the lottery from my first day. It’s more than anyone could ask. If I could bet on anything, I’d bet on us. Dee

ps Dad taught us to play poker for match sticks. They’d go back in the box and be used months later to light a candle, the fireplace or another poker game. Oh, in poker the matches were the antes and money and were never alight. Luck, in so many ways. D