Category Archives: Editorial

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Last week our dog, Zoe (Greek for Life) turned ten. The other day she took her first “senior” blood panel.” The vet called the next day and said it was “beautiful.” Then she said if she doesn’t gain weight she may have cancer, and that blood work has no indications for cancer so she needs x-rays and ultrasound.

Zoe is 1.6# from my goal but my new vet has not disclosed her weight goal. I’ve done a lot of research and talked to two other vets, including her hip surgeon of nearly ten years ago.

Val the Vet, Zoe’s hip surgeon, is an Aggie, is top notch in veterinary circles as there were few women in the field back then. She says the blood-work should have shown something and that Zoe’s coat is “luxurious” and that a nutritional absorption problem should be dealt with by probiotics, which our current vet recommended and will arrive tomorrow. Her weight goal for Zoe is 32 pounds.

I have fought for Zoe her entire life, since she came to us at six weeks (having been spayed at five weeks of age, shameless) and we’ve had her nearly ten years. Aside from her bad hips, diagnosed at five months, she’s been healthy. But we’ve moved across the country several times (she loves the car and her orthopedic bed in the back and only sits up at off-ramps) and have several vets.

Our government allows doctors to keep our records on file and use them for (and against) us. I have Zoe’s files. I know Zoe better than any vet ever will because I give her the best food and care and keep her on the European pet travel scheme for the past nine years in case we are sent overseas.

Vets, know that I have her file. It’s a file of her adoption, former name, and every vet visit and obedience class. Telling me she may have cancer with not a hint in the blood work may just mean she’s getting older and her body is changing.

I will work with a vet on Zoe’s behalf and have no problem changing vets if I think someone can give her better care because I know her better than anyone else.

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Greeks and Turks

I grew up loving the ancient Greeks and learning the culture as I’ve visited there a bit. The last time was tracing the route of Odysseus through the Ionian sea.

Turkey, not so much. I always wanted to go and my father and brother have gone twice over the past year and I always benefit from their travels. This weekend I’ll hang an artisinal trivet on my kitchen wall. It’ll be around the corner from my gorgeous newly-framed photos from Korfu, Zakynthos and Lefkada.

Also, I’m wearing a Turkish bracelet all the time, except in the shower. The shake reminds me of Greek worry beads.

I think you were meant to be together all these centuries. Luckily the choices we make for our dog with vet et al are not yet between Scylla and Charybdis. Yes, I saw it and also went through the Strait of Corinth from horrific seas.

All the cargo ships saw this small sailing boat bobbing around like a cork and called it in asking for us to go through the strait first. I hope we get some calm seas around here sometime soon, and hope our lifelong companion will be OK. Cheers, Dee

Salt

Apparently salt does not melt snow below 15 degrees. Then they have to add chemicals. I took our dog around the block this morning and she chose which paw to put up in unusual pain and kept switching.

Our town likes to salt, not plow, real snow. Zoe likes to eat snow but only the fresh stuff. So I took her out and since she was hurt, left her with my husband and put on my real winter boots, probably a pound apiece. Thanks Doug! He sold us clothes, mostly for my husband, in the Rockies.

I went to the local coffee shop for us and got a few “Cowboy Cookies” to help the ice fishers get through the day and keep fed and warm. I couldn’t find a way to them on foot. So I put them in the freezer and will take them out and we’ll drive them down in the morning.

Anywhere I live, I find things that need to be done and try to do them while I’m there. This morning I and the dog walked by a cyclist with a winter bike with really wide tires coming up the hill over snow and ice. He got a “hurrah” and “well done!” This past week we’ve met two dogs who are newly certified therapy dogs for local hospitals.

They won’t accept my dog because she eats raw food. I’m not going to change her diet at age ten and think she makes enough people happy every day just being herself. Everyone knows Zoe, even if they forget my name.

I got three stop signs and a crosswalk in a year. We do what we can do and always try to make a difference. Make a difference in your community, Dee

Herding Dog FAQ

For ten years I had a Retriever, RIP. People loved her so much they gave the city a tree, in her park, in her memory. No one will do this for Zoe, so it’s up to me to send a poem in her honor for her 10th birthday.

For ten years my husband and I have had a herder, he asked if I wanted to have kids and I said we had to get a dog first, to see how bad he was. He’s bad, spoils Zoe rotten so I’m the disciplinarian and food wench. We tried for kids, my fault.

Here goes:

1. They will set up a place (I put a dog bed there) where they can monitor the front door and any indoor activity.

2. They will stay no more than five feet from you at all times (in the kitchen it means sending her out to a rug where she can watch me in the “magic room.)”

3. If you have an armload of laundry to fold, they’ll serpentine in front of you and try to get you to trip.

4. As they get older they’ll let pups get close but let them know “I’m an old lady, don’t do that” with just a stare.

5. Their “mom” tries to protect them on the ice when all four legs go out and goes down as well, from a higher level and more bruises.

6. They sleep on your bed. Ours has no hips so I have to lift her 3X per night.

7. Visiting in-laws doesn’t mean a goat pen, or a crate indoors. She sleeps on the bed. Ranchers don’t get it, a dog living indoors, but have learned to love her and as a herder and talker, she’s never made a mess in the house. In fact, we didn’t bring her last Thanksgiving and my MIL was upset that she wouldn’t be around to pick up crumbs from the floor on our annual epic cook-fest.

8. Tumbling tumbleweeds will be your watchword as you fend off the undercoat fur with vacuum and other means.

9. They love to chase squirrels. Get a martingale collar. 2Hounds.com is for her next ten years, Asian silk. As in Men In Black, I call it the last collar she’ll ever wear.

10. Love them as they are only with us for a short time.

Thank you, Zoe, for coming into our lives ten years ago. Dee

Tokens

I don’t remember which was which, it was a $.35 cent token for lunch and a $.02 cent one for milk. They were red and green. That’s just how things were done back then. They weren’t food stamps, our parents paid every month for what was needed.

Back then I was getting $.50 allowance per week so would give two extra cents to get chocolate milk.

It didn’t get better in another state for middle school where tater tots were the vegetable of choice, or high school when I had a slice of pizza, a Twinkie and chocolate milk. Or college…. that was chocolate cereal with chocolate milk. No, I’m not addicted to chocolate and only eat a couple of 70% squares a few times a year.

I applaud the efforts of those trying to convince government officials and bureaucrats that school lunch is a big deal, especially as some students require extra nutrition higher than they get from home.

Teaching children about food, when their parents cannot do so, is the responsibility of school and community. It would be wonderful to see children planting gardens at their school and using the herbs and vegetables they grow for meals. Letting the bureaucrats and accountants make it slave labor is not warranted and should be dealt with accordingly.

Learning about food was incredible. There are so many basics and then variations on themes that keep me going now. I see it as an adventure.

Schools planting, especially in less affluent areas, is our best step and I’m sure volunteers will help set up the planting beds and donors will provide the planting beds, soil and seeds. We are creating a new generation (well, not me), and need to assure quality nutrition. It is imperative. Dee

Necessities

and useless items.

I was asked in cooking school what is a chef’s greatest tool? Hands. Brain, of course. We were told to come to school with two chef jackets, an apron, a good chef’s knife 10-12″ and a paring knife 3-4″. That’s it.

The knife collection alone now fills a magnetic rack and others are in a chef’s case but when someone tells me they need an olive pitter, I say smash it with your chef’s and take out the pit. Strawberry huller? Duh, take out the parer.

All these commercials try to get you to buy stuff you don’t need. Unless you eat rice eight times a day you don’t need an electric rice cooker. Look at your counter space and think of what is really important to you. If it’s coffee, go for it. I lived at 6.500 feet above sea level where water boiled at about 180 degrees so it was difficult to make water for tea or to cook eggs so I’ve a hot water boiler on my counter because that’s important to me.

Please check my Essential Pantry series to prove my theories. It will soon extends to pets. I’m up in the middle of the night and saw an ad for a “wee wee pad” with pheromones and a target so the dog will go in the middle and save the owner cleanup time.

My idea is to save your money and actually take your dog for a walk. We got Zoe at six weeks of age and she’ll be ten years old this month. I took her for 8 walks a day as a pup, now she gets four, and I’m sure as she ages that number will climb near eight again. She hasn’t had a wee wee pad since her first week home and I didn’t need a target and pheromones to get her to go in the middle. Actually, I don’t think she ever used one.

There are things you need and one-purpose things people try to get you to buy, so don’t do it. I shop the outside of the grocery and only go inside for pasta, rice, tea, chicken broth (for the dog). Do I spend a lot on groceries? Yes. We live well but I’m trying to go more veggie, shhhh don’t tell my husband. We had a tiny bit of leftover chicken tonight with cold sesame noodles and broccoli.

I’ll sneak in veg when I can. He’s a steak and potatoes guy so it’ll take some of Dee’s sneakiness to get in green beans, Romaine, grilled radicchio and kale. Luckily he loves carrots, apples, pummelos and grapefruit.

Do you know that if I buy these items from the grocery I can cook them without any special appliance? I walk my dog separately or drive her because dogs have been stolen around here and she’d go “home” with anyone who has a treat. Ten years. We’re thinking about that ten-year trial period and we may just keep her. Dee

 

Dirty Job

Too bad Mike Rowe isn’t on the air anymore. My husband loved his show Dirty Jobs and I watched a few but had to close my eyes for a few sequences.

I just thought of the perfect dirty job for him, one I did monthly for six years. Helping to spay/neuter feral cats. Let’s see, he could start with cleaning traps, helping to anesthetize the cats, strapping females to a board (the guys don’t get sewn up). Then “tipping” which is taking a tip off the right ear.

Then he could comb for fleas and change to transport, which takes the sleeping (out cold cat, one hopes) to either a van for ER or hopefully to his/her crate. As a transporter he may find little grains of rice coming out of a cat’s behind and have to go through to surgery and get ER the authority to treat for tapeworms. Pregnant females always have to go in to ER for fluids, and cats that are not breathing well must have acupressure and therefore a constant volunteer.

Breathing is an issue and volunteers built benches so we wouldn’t have to bend down all the time and I created Dee’s Kitty Wake-Up List so Breathers could chart when a cat awakened from anesthesia and was just taking a nap. Years later it’s not called that but they still use a version of it.

When I was volunteering there and there was a cat with a communicable disease (back then I did transport and trained three types of volunteers, transport, breathing and cleaning) they’d say “Call Dee!” Ringworm, mange, whatever. And I did it all without gloves. My training session is even on tape at SFSPCA. My co-star is Snowflake the Wonder Kitty which was a white bean bag cat with a tipped ear, of course, that had about as much muscle control as one of our anesthetized cats. I demonstrated transport and carefully placing a cat back into its trap or carrier.

Mike, if you’re reading, I was told to get naked in my garage and take a shower before touching my dog and two cats. Problem is I had a carport back then. Sorry you couldn’t get to do this one. Maybe as a special?

I used to dread going to this at a different far-flung locale every month. Once I got dirty I learned to love it. One thing is I did not eat donuts after I’d touched a feral cat. Others did. I only drank water for 6-8 hours. Thank goodness these folks are helping with the incredible cat reproduction problem and like those who help track Greyhounds, will be able to go out of business one day.

Cheers, Dee

Punting

We heard on Christmas Eve that family from 1,200 miles away may be coming for a visit. They planned on Friday. Yikes. Then they called this morning and said they’d be here this afternoon.

Oh, my! I didn’t even have my “to do” list started on paper, it was in my head, but no menu or shopping or anything. So here I am awaiting a call and tidying up. Haven’t combed the dog yet, yes Miss Tumbling Tumbleweeds.

I made a list for my husband and called the butcher to have an identical steak to the one we ordered for Christmas day cut and ready to go (they like me, I bring them chili).

Not to worry. I am the Mary Poppins of the day. I’ve a week’s worth of dinner menus planned. Also, a list of the most interesting things our young nephew would like to see. And though we’ve one video game he loves and has almost mastered (age-appropriate) we’d rather he see ice fishermen, old pump house equipment, a science museum and flight museum and sled down the big hill after building a cardboard sled with his Uncle Jim.

Yes, we punt and enjoy family for the few days a year we get to see them. This will be a special treat. Also a challenge as this good cook has a picky eater on her hands and I’ll have to do some Auntie L trickery to hide things he hates (he’s not allergic to anything) and ask him to try it first, then I’ll tell him what’s in it. Culinarily yours, Dee

Song in my Heart

Yes, I do wake with a song every morning, well, most. And I sing it in my head and sometimes, aloud. It’s usually old musicals and goes from Shall We Dance to … I can’t even think of them the next day.

Often I held a song in my head for weeks and hated it. Then I had the opportunity for another. So perhaps my mind told me that I need a song a day to make me and everyone else happy.

That may be what made me give up guitar. My teacher didn’t want to let me learn what I wanted to learn and was paying him to learn in private sessions. He was a drummer and didn’t care if I knew beginner chords and only wanted me to keep the beat and mess up all the time.

That’s not how I work in business or how I learn on my own time. Famous drummers may get the girls but the guitarists and lead singer do better. I’m married and only want to be able to play and sing for family and friends. I prefer to do the serious work to learn and do better and let the drummer play the drums, keep the beat and I’ll set the tune and do harmony (play second fiddle) from time to time.

Now I keep my nice guitar hydrated every few days but rarely play it. I’m still a beginner, was scared off by my teachers, Bible Belt guy and Drummer. I’ve a treasure trove of music, most of which I just downloaded free lyrics and figured out the chords myself.

Yes, Drummer and I tried to sing a song together and I went up a third in harmony and he followed me. He stopped and said “Oh, I bet you have perfect pitch.” I told him I didn’t know but my father said I did and so did two of my music teachers. From then on it was downhill. He was not nice after that.

The problem is that I don’t have the vocals to do anything pro, I can sing my own harmony to practically anything (not today’s ersatz music for kids) many can play instruments and I quit violin and piano as a kid and regret it. Yes, at 12 I had a band of three guitar players all with no skills and the other two were tone deaf. Now any teacher I find will have tremendous skills to teach me and I’ve wasted something my DNA gave me because I wanted to go to the mall with my girlfriends and I barely remember those girls’ names now.

In order to play basic guitar chords I was introduced to Pete Seeger, Peter, Paul and Mary, and Johnny Cash. They’ve become good friends by their music. Dylan, well I want to play many of his works but the chords are not yet known, I can sing them but not play them…. yet. I’m not a musician but would like schools to place that back into their curricula. Music translates to math. It is not something to cut for budget reasons.

Today I sing on road trips with my husband, especially when he’s asleep (don’t worry I am at the wheel), to CCNY and all my friends, and all in harmony. I could sit as a beginner at my guitar and sing Bob Denver’s song that could make my husband nearly come to tears. In the end it’s all blowin’ in the wind. Dee

PS There is Love (John Denver’s Wedding Song) and I always stand on your shoulders, my dear. Music in schools. All is love, Dee

Kitchen Terror!

I wasn’t feeling well Saturday and my husband decided he really wanted spaghetti and meatballs for dinner so went grocery shopping. He also brought home soup for me and a number of other items but that’s not the story.

In one hour, probably longer, he decided to bake store-bought (butcher counter fresh) meatballs and had me get up and turn on the oven prior to his arrival. He got an expensive bottled sauce and some pasta. I figured this non-cook could do it.

His hour was spent dirtying every pot, pan, dish in the house while he constantly asked questions about preparation. I could have made a marinara and meatballs at home and cooked pasta in half the time. At the end of this agonizing (for me) feat of culinary genius, with my husband cooking prepared foods here are the results.

The pasta was OK, but my pots and pans and especially my large pasta pot are at ground level and he’s very tall so he critiqued my placement of those items in MY kitchen that I placed 18 months ago. I’m a foot shorter than he so basically the arrangement is that he helps me get stuff off high shelves and I fetch from lower cupboards and  things under the sink. Plus, he doesn’t cook! And he brought me a limp piece of pasta and made me check it. I said OK and gave it to dog Zoe who was appreciative.

No-one could ruin the sauce. I just had him warm it in a small saucepan on low heat which included a ten minute conversation on how much sauce and demonstration from him of which saucepan to use. I was on the sofa under a blanket, not even wanting to smell food.

Then the meatballs. With surgical precision, he placed a piece of aluminum foil on the sheet pan, a huge sheet then tucked it in over all the edges for five minutes. I had him set timers because he is a true absent-minded professor. When he gets on a subject, there’s no reining him in. And he tells me frankly that he cannot multi-task. After many years together, I believe him.

Of course he overcooked the meatballs! They stuck to the tin foil and were the consistency of golf balls. Then he couldn’t find the Parmigiano Reggiano. He asked if cheddar was a good substitute. No, I got up from the sofa and found the parm on the cheese shelf, made sure he had a colander for the pasta and a bowl to eat it from, fork, napkins et al.

Later I found that not a single item had been rinsed, washed or placed in the dishwasher. I awakened to a disaster. In order to restore my kitchen, I spent an hour cleaning and putting away every dish before making him breakfast.

Admittedly, this was not the best environment in which to teach basics to a non-cook, who even has trouble with making a grilled cheese sandwich. And he does help when he can but it is better for me to be standing by him (as Tammy Wynette said, stand by your man) advising every step. He’s extremely bright and does remember lessons, even knows the difference between baking powder and baking soda because of me, referenced to Harold McGee for verification of the scientific principles (he’s educated as a physicist and engineer).

For the holidays I’m retaking my kitchen. It is his birthday today. He accidentally opened his birthday and Christmas gifts a few weeks ago because they arrived addressed to me and I had no idea the sender, and it turned out to be something I ordered for him a few months ago and I was there. They were shoes, he’s tough to fit and years ago we found a pair that works and the company has discontinued them so we bought out 2-3 pair at a local store and I asked HQ to comb the country to find more because his size is unique and they won’t be able to sell them. These casual Friday work-day and “dog walking” shoes will last him 8-10 years.

I will figure out a favorite dinner to make him this evening. No, it will not be spaghetti and meatballs. He’s really a steak and potatoes guy but I may roast a chicken. Who knows, I haven’t been shopping yet to see what’s great.

Today I make some special treats, mainly for gifts, so need to go to the grocery early to avoid crowds and get the best stuff. I’m hoping it doesn’t snow so my husband won’t steal my car again because I really don’t want to walk in snow with a cart. I’ll tell you later what they are. We wouldn’t want recipients to know in advance, and I’m still not certain of my final menu.

I’ve also taken on another dog. Only for a few walks, not taking over the bed or having to temporarily reorganize the open pantry because our last guest was three times our dog’s size, has hips and can smell crackers or a pie or whatever is in the pantry or on the counter. Ah, the holidays. And we thought it would be a serene time for us and the dog. We do miss family and one or two may visit sometime during the week. Cheers! All the best to you and yours, Dee

Recipes for Disaster

Only one, and I’ll add one for good, for family celebrations that last for days.

I offered to take in a neighbor’s dog, J, an exuberant 110 lb. lab/retriever for the night. He is a wonderful, needy, house guest but I couldn’t figure out how to get his harness on. When it comes to dog care, I get up in the morning and know that Z needs to go out asap. I use the facilities, check out how many layers of clothing/boots/hats/gloves I’ll need and we’re out the door. So I felt for J and decided his collar was OK.

Unfortunately we’re in an ice storm and all the streets and sidewalks are covered and most schools are closed. My husband took my car to work because I’ve snow tires on and he does not (they’re in storage).

So J’s a big guy! I’d already walked six blocks to the store to pick up a few things. Took me 20 minutes each way avoiding “black ice” where it looks like pavement but is slick and deadly. At times I walked on the street because cars had broken up a lot of it but that’s deadly as well in this town.

He was very good and didn’t pull me around much and did everything he was supposed to do. It took several hours for he and Z to settle down. My Zoe was the troublemaker, barking at any sound she heard. I’d fed them and taken them out separately.

Now it’s midnight and he was up so I took him. She was jealous so I took her and placed her back up on the bed. He did the funniest thing! When I went to visit him and learn of his feeding, treat, med schedule and where his leash was kept he did not come to greet me as he had closed himself in the bathroom.

While we were testing boundaries I closed off everything but the living/dining areas. I was hoping they’d both settle down and didn’t hear him for a couple of minutes. Then I heard him breathing. He had opened the door to the guest bathroom and closed it behind him! He can get in, not out.

He will not settle now and opened our bedroom door and closed it. Smart boy. It has been an adventure.

There’s a huge barge off shore and it’s lit up like a Christmas tree! I went to a health care facility today to give my gift. I’m going to start a pet therapy program for them and I and my Zoe may go to see patients. The national program would not accept her because I feed her a raw food diet. She’s been on it for nearly ten years and I won’t compromise her health and change her diet for charity. Perhaps they’ll come up with the same restriction but I’ll come up with a program for them anyway.

Receptionist T escorted me down the hall to meet the volunteer coordinator who was at a rummage sale to benefit the hospital. He knew I’d just come off the icy sidewalks and offered his arm and thanked me for what I was trying to do as he’s always wanted to be a zoologist. After I slipped and slid to the grocery store and came back, as I promised, I spent a whopping $5.28 at the rummage sale. I got a house with a tree that can be retrofitted as an ornament, a candy cane with a felt mouse that is already on our tree, and a slice of Kringle, strawberry. Yum. I had them cut it in half and gave half to T for escorting this old lady down the hall.

Now for the good stuff. The other day I saw Bobby Flay do a Strata and I’ve done frittatas and quiches et al but this was “Dee the mom’s” clean out the frig strata. I did have to buy good bread, but you should use stale bread, and good cheese. And just wing it, knowing your parameters.

For two of us I set out the bread to get stale and caramelized 1/2 an onion in a pan with a pat of butter. I had some frozen spinach so added it to a bowl after squeezing all the liquid out of it, added about two cups of bread cubes, four eggs, 1-2T of cream and 1/2 cup of Gruyere cheese. I also sauteed two pork sausages, cut them up and added. Mix up dry and wet and combine and mine fit easily into a 2 quart Pyrex rice cooking bowl. Top with another 1/2 cup of Gruyere and cook at 350 for about 45 minutes.

What I told my mother-in-law, we have cooking fests every Thanksgiving, is that this is a “seat of the pants” dish we could triple on one morning and we wouldn’t have to do individual egg orders for everyone. Have all the ingredients ready, first one of us up pops it in the oven for an hour or so (multiple portions will take longer) and there’s breakfast!

Many years ago I asked my fiancee about family traditions. Christmas? Milk cows. Thanksgiving? Milk cows. You get the drift. This dish gives a family eggs, sausage, milk, cheese, veggies. A dairy is not something for an older man or couple to run, so it’s a ranch now but everyone still needs a hearty breakfast to live on a farm.

The funniest story I have about this is my first time there at the then dairy to “meet the folks.” As I, a cook, negotiated my way around an unfamiliar kitchen, I said there was no milk for omelets or scrambled eggs and future mother-in-law told me I could use evaporated or dried milk from the pantry. I said, you’ve 150 cows across the road and they were milked not an hour ago and you don’t have milk?” My dear m-i-l said “I no longer have two growing boys. Back then I always had a gallon or two in the frig.” To this day my husband knows whether store-bought milk is “grassy.”

Nanny is always worried about her kids, their kids, her great-grands. She was worried about my husband even though I passed her 45-minute interview but the next time we saw her she said “It looks like Dee is feeding you well.” Perhaps too well these days. But I knew she approved of us being together. That’s how life goes. Dee

ps I never knew my grandmothers so Nanny agreed to be mine over a decade ago.