Category Archives: Editorial

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Band

I got a $100 nylon string guitar for Christmas at age 11. Dad taught me A, C, D, E, G. I had quit five years of violin but was still taking piano lessons that would stop soon due to a bad teacher.

Then I got a band and we actually performed. My two girlfriends were clueless and tone deaf and when I tried to sing harmony they followed me. Disaster.

Apologies are due to CSNY for Teach Your Children, PPM for Day is Done, and the Kingston Trio for their version of the folk classic, 500 Miles.

Now I have a Seagull Artist Mosaic Folk acoustic guitar that I hydrate and do not play. I think I’m afraid of hurting those above and others. At first in private lessons I overreached, learning B7 the first week. I was learning twinkle, twinkle little star at the time. Yes, and I now use slinky strings made by Ernie Ball. Sadly he’s gone but his son was my neighbor. No, I did not get the strings for free.

I created a music library and learned about Johnny Cash, more Dylan. I sing and just come up with the chords. Often I just download lyrics and make it up. There is no artistry to it, just what was musically given (like golf, my father hates that I have perfect pitch but knows he brought the game) and the desire to create, not perform yet.

The lyrics challenge is like a food challenge. I used to have a mystery box arrive at my door every week and figure out what to cook with anything that was in it. That was a challenge, especially in winter in the Rockies.

So it’s bye bye Miss American Pie, took the Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry….

I prefer This Land Is Your Land….this land was made for you and me. Dee

College Days

Yes, my husband brought Mary Lou home from college for a visit. That was his BMW motorcycle. Or the Honda Civic, I don’t think she had a name. He was ready after the weekend to go back to Aggie-land and looked into Mom’s frig for things to take along.

He hit the mother lode. A two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper stashed away in the back of a second frig. They live in a dry county in TX. Back in the day, his mother baked all the wedding cakes for the community. She has an album of all the cakes she’s crafted. My husband got about a mile down the road, and took a swig of his newfound Dr. Pepper. Straight vanilla extract preserved in brandy. Ech! Serves him right for stealing! I hope he at least snagged a sandwich!

As we plan for my 10th Thanksgiving with 60 of his family members, I think of the cooking marathons his mother and I have. We can go for days. There are usually at least nine of us at the ranch, let’s say 9-14 and they need to be fed more that just Thanksgiving supper at Nanny’s.

People like us who fly in aren’t supposed to bring anything, but we used to drive in and when family gets used to something, they want it every year.

At first I was frightened of all the gals and “the line” and all the desserts (I don’t bake). I decided after the first year, pre-marriage, brought in for the five-day job interview, that I’d stick to the kitchen table.

After dishes are done, many of the women hang out at a large table in the kitchen while the guys watch The Game (Aggies vs. UT of course and they’re all Aggies). There’s always a crudite platter and chips. I added spicy almonds and cashews, boursin (homemade with his mothers’ herbs) and then spinach balls.

One year I added mincemeat tarts to the dessert table, thinking they’d not go over well because they’re so Brit.  They did so are back every year. Last year I added a vegetarian dish to “the line,” a brussels sprout and cauliflower gratin that was a hit. This year if there is time I’d like to add a new corn pudding. So that’s six dishes from an out-of-towner.

What does my husband do while we cook? He hangs out with father and brother and splits wood or mends fences. On Thanksgiving day? A couple of years ago he took up balloon twisting and there are always Nanny’s new “great-grands” to consider so he’s always on call for that. Otherwise, he’s not that into the game and usually hangs out with moms and kids and Uncle Steve.

Thanksgiving is a male/female thing. The men do nothing. The women prepare, serve, clean up, hang out, re-heat, serve and clean up again.

We’re thinking of taking the train in this year. Last year’s drive and dog-cation was a disaster. We were so glad to say hello, dump the dog with mom and dad and escape for a slice of pizza without her! Do not try to have your dog in a pet-friendly hotel downtown in a big city. There’s no-where to walk her, you have to sign to say she will never be left in the hotel room alone, no restaurant will have her even on the patio, and it’s too hot to have her in the car. Solution? Send husband next door for takeout and eat in the room. Or stay outside of town in a two-star and forget Graceland.

Drive all day and eat in the room with the dog equals dog-cation. Not for me. This year she stays with someone or someone stays here with her. She loves this lady and will be fine without us for a few days. Downside is that Amtrak has no wi-fi so my husband will have to work off-line or use his cell phone tower to tower. Also even though we’ll have our own space to sit and view and take photos (hi Stevie, we’re on the train and this is where Abe Lincoln was born) and sleep, the bathroom is down the hall unless a larger room opens up (we’re on the list). It’s only overnight and we can shower when we get to the ranch.

I’m going retro tonight with a cauliflower mold with Mornay sauce, some Polska Kielbasa hot off the grill with grainy mustard, and Rosti, a Swiss potato cake. Ah, childhood memories. My father grew up eating and of course speaking German even though he was born in the USA.

Kugelhopf. I believe my mother made it as a quick bread. I asked her for the recipe for 40 years. No. There is none. Can I watch you make it? Maybe. It never happened and she’s gone five years now and I’ve lost that, along with our family’s favorite, Viennese Chocolate Pecan Torte that each of us got for our birthday.

I’ll work on the kugelhopf first. For years I haven’t had luck re-creating it online and I don’t bake but love it over the holidays. I’m also thinking of making my sisters’ Hungarian Coffee Cake (a Christmas breakfast staple) and my version of chocolate-hazelnut panforte for here and gifts. Carpe diem, Dee

ps I’m also thinking of a cranberry-orange trifle.

Somewhere

over the rainbow… That got me a great apartment years ago. I met the owner and he said he’d already rented it but he would take me to see it. $350 per month.

It had great big windows with fold-out shutters (old school), a one bedroom with hexagonal tiled bath and galley kitchen. I loved it and the first thing I saw was a signed 8X10 of Judy Garland. I said, “Dorothy.” He asked where I worked (his dad was a head state judge, I worked as a young policy wonk for the speaker of the assembly) and I knew instantly that both he and his soon-to-be-former tenant were gay.

I got the place. He just told the other guy it was unavailable. It was wonderful to leave my place into which the wicked witch of the west had entered.

Click my heels three times and guess what? It took a long time to meet my prince but I’ve the greatest husband in the world. In addition, a year after we married we adopted Zoe (Greek for life) and we’ve been together nearly ten years. That’s Zoe. Husband and I for 12. Zoe doesn’t look anything like the flying monkeys.

If anything husband is tin man, who has the greatest heart in the world but is judicious in sharing it. Zoe the dog is Scarecrow, who could use a brain tweak now and then.

Who am I? Dorothy, of course. My aunt just sent me and I framed my husband’s favorite work of art, Dee’s crayon Wizard of Oz with a tiny Dee/Dorothy atop the Cowardly Lion. Yes, I was five. I’d send it but they’ve changed the format and I need to learn it first. BTW, I’m in love with the man who shows brains, heart and courage.

Bluebirds fly, so can I. Dee

Recht

Dextro vs. sinistre.

Lately when we watch TV I notice who is left-handed, especially left hook like me. I could never do calligraphy because the heel of my hand would smear the ink.

Dad was a leftie but his teachers beat him into submission as a child. Poor Dad. I am ambidextrous. I don’t know if I can swing a baseball bat anymore but I could choose which hand to lead with. I was the anchor of Lefties, Inc. in college and we made it to the playoffs. That was because none of the other teams showed up at the games.

Whenever I had roommates or went to work everyone was left-handed. Is it like menstrual cycles? All the gals have it? I was going to be the cook and we all had jobs the first day in our new college apartment. I asked to be seated at any end of the table and they all said “I’m leftie!”

Anyway, when my school said they were going to make me be dextrous rather than sinister, my dad stepped in and said “NO!” You let her be what she is going to be and do not punish her for who she is. Two of his four children are lefties.

I played the violin and was encouraged to play golf right-handed. I can only use scissors with my right hand. I tried to tell my teacher that when she handed me these snub-nosed, green rubber-wrapped leftie scissors. I’m sure my parents had to get into that one as well.

I cook, a lot. Knives are leftie. I don’t have or need one yet but Japanese sushi knives only cut on one side, for righties. A leftie chef told me 20 years ago that a leftie knife must be ordered specially.

As a leftie, never buy a $2 supermarket peeler because it’s only sharpened for a rightie. Go for OXO and it’s sharpened on both sides so that carrot can be peeled by you or your significant other.

Years ago I went to a Leftie store and there was very little that was useful to me. They wanted to create a “club” of us and that’s not what I want. I do not want a club and I don’t want a Lefties Rights (pun intended) revolution.

In my fifth decade I just don’t want children to be ridiculed for a side of the brain they use more than the other. Yes, we’re more artistic. Sinister? I think not. Please teach your children well (I owed you that CSNY for a horrifying version of that song when I was 12) and do not make them use their right hand if they prove left-handed.

Yes, after decades I play the guitar as a beginner, but I’ve a really nice guitar. I play it right-handed. Dee

18,000 Miles

Feels like a song. The second time I sang in public (the first time was the intro to Simon and Garfunkel’s Bridge Over Troubled Water). The next time my band, age 12, sang 5oo Miles and painfully, two others. They were tone deaf and couldn’t play guitar. Yes, I chose poorly but they were my friends. Now I quit guitar because I was being taught guitar by a drummer who hated that I had perfect pitch. If I succeeded I’d be better and he couldn’t have that.

I’ve driven halfway across the country, twice, and to Texas and back last year for Thanksgiving. Over six years I’ve only placed 18,000 miles on my SUV which is now ten years old. Our insurance company just made me re-do all our info so they can charge me more and place more money in Warren Buffett’s pockets.

We bought in TX six years ago, a 2003. It’s a pretty little girl and I really didn’t name her, it’s just my car, your (Volvo sedan) car here. Simple. Hipless Wonder is not allowed in the Volvo except at my feet (passenger) in a major snowstorm.

We have a 4″ orthopedic bed for the Hipless Wonder-dog and a cargo net in MY car. Plus a tub with stuff if I get stuck on the side of the road like a mylar blanket, nuts and jumper cables. Of course, it would help if I brought my cell phone. Yes, that’s six years old as well and I forget it all the time.

In good weather I enjoy walking to the grocery stores and around the neighborhood, with or without Hipless Wonder. I keep the SUV running at least once a week but with our location walking is my preference. Cheers! Dee

Love

What is it? I know it but cannot describe it. It’s that not looking at one an other and simply taking a hand or arm. It’s him and our sweet dog sleeping 10 hours through a Cat 5 hurricane while I blogged it and having 149 out of 150 lofts damaged.

All but ours.

It’s me making meat and potatoes for him. It’s him buying me flowers every once in a while or taking out the dog or cleaning up vomit when he lets her eat something dead from the sidewalk.

It’s me making his favorite foods (spaghetti and meatballs, stew, steak on the grill, loaded baked potatoes) and making sure his clothes are clean and folded, dinner is ready and the house is clean. Magic!

We do not buy gifts and he does not want me to have any jewelry except what he’s bought me and I keep on 24/7. One 18K wedding band. Two 18K gold teeny hoop earrings. Two golf bracelets on my wrists with magnets for my arthritis (how sweet is that). They work!

Now we do not get gifts but I think for my birthday, Christmas and our anniversary, all spread out over three months, I would like a traditional Claddagh ring. It would be on my right hand because I’ll never take off my wedding band, so the heart would be in to show that I’m spoken for. I figure the left hand shows people I’m married already!

He just bought himself a 40″ monitor/tv for home so for half the price I can get one ring. Ask writer Calvin Trillin about Alice’s Law of Compensatory Cashflow. Well, we didn’t spent $2K for that so we can use it for this! I miss, (RIP) Alice.

Cheers and root for me! My husband got a huge TV and will be working from home a day or two a week. I and dogma deserve payment for that life disruption and she just got a new collar. Asian silk, hand-sewn, The Last Collar She’ll Ever Wear. (MIB) Dee

Days

In a former life I was asked to create days off (with pay for state workers) and that didn’t really work except for Martin Luther King Day, and we all were off for that and we took a station wagon to D.C. and did events all day and heard Coretta Scott King speak at the AME church. Amazing!

My role at work was to stop these things from happening and no new days off were approved on my watch but three days of commemoration were to be celebrated. Raul Wallenberg, (NAZI  prisoner and Swedish freer of thousands of Hungarian Jews from Hitler). Tadeusz Kosciousko (Polish hero 1700’s) who has a bridge nearby and Saul Wollenberg who helped finance our Revolutionary War in the late 1700’s.

Of course I did 1,000 other things but as I look back these are more important at this point in my life. See, I always let other people steer my life from parents to college to bosses. Believing in myself, walking an old dog and cooking breakfast and dinner for husband and dog every day for years is comforting. Writing is a joy. Having challenging conversations with a really smart person makes me want to get up every morning. The dog, Zoe, doesn’t talk so much as make her essential needs painfully known, no matter day or night.

Cheers and have a wonderful day! Dee

Stone Age TV

We are giving to charity our last cathode ray tube television!  As a modern woman I am dictating this to my husband to show that I am writing this from bed via our new Samsung 40 inch flat planel SmartTV. Have a great night, Dee

ps It was dark and it was a new keyboard I’d never seen and wasn’t wearing glasses so I finally gave up and dictated the post. That counts as writing, correct? This will be his new office monitor/tv soon if I don’t hit other snags along the way (like edible “peanuts” throughout the internal kerosene heater). D

Space

Yes, The Final Frontier.

So over the next few weeks I’m changing everything. We got and furnished a guest room that no-one ever enters. My desk is going there after I treat it with lemon oil, open up this gateleg to full width and get a file cabinet for the paper I have historically collected.This has been a lifelong issue.

As of this afternoon my husband will have a 40″ monitor/tv and we will give our last working CRT to charity. His office (my brother’s old black metal and glass L-shaped desk) will go into the bedroom where there is plenty of room with an en suite and headphones. When he works at home he’ll be able to shut the door and be away from noise from me, the dog, dishwasher and washing machine. The washer really does sound like Elvis is leaving the building.

I move my desk (1920 English oak gateleg table) to the guest room and put all my pictures on the wall. Up to the ceiling if need be. I’ve spent decades framing and everything is under towels to protect them from dust. No more.

We move the dining room for a view and make room for a husband-fitted tall chair and floor lamp and table so he can relax and read a tech book or be on his laptop comfortably.

It’ll just take a few weeks of work. Yesterday I only emptied one box. It had a very cool space heater in it. Unfortunately it was packed in styrofoam peanuts for five years of storage. Peanuts got up all the channels and it took a set of kitchen tongs, a knife, small scissors and plastic toast tongs and a rug vacuum with hose and 2.5 hours of my time to get everything out. As Scarlett said, never again.

Next time we wrap it in the strange sticky wrap all over and THEN put it back in the peanuts. Live and learn, readers. We are the moving pro’s.

News from a mover, not a shaker. To pack a box turn it upside down. Books go in small boxes that must be uniform for truck packing. Line up the seams perfectly. Place four two-inch pieces of moving tape from a professional dispenser (the older and more gunked up, the better) two inches from the seam. Seal the seam. Seal the edges. Turn right-side up and do the same when filled.

Find the best box store in your town. It’ll be half the price of U-Haul. They’ll talk to you and advise you but this is worthwhile advice. Use it. I’ll be 55 next week and have moved nearly 40 times in my life. This kind of ritual makes it livable and gets your stuff there safely.

Oh, always keep packaging for electronics (clear for “stuff” and pink for electronics) in your garage or basement. Newspaper but unprinted, get at least 25 lbs. Keep most electronics packaging (not for laptops as you already have a laptop bag and it’ll be in a car). I do colored stickers such as C for Car. H for House and S for storage as we have to pay for our original packaging in storage but with snow tires et al, it’s worth it. Also china and important glassware. I’ve my mothers (RIP five years) Lenox china and her cut crystal glasses, plus Italian serving items from Dad as a wedding gift, I just store the boxes and re-use as needed. It beats starting from scratch.

Last time we moved big-time we had an art curator do the art, and a lawyer do the furniture – I know, the lawyer is suspect. Michelle Obama didn’t show up but she was busy getting her husband elected.

Other moving advice? Save the broom for last so you can clean out your place. Put the bed, bedding and pillows at the back of the truck so you can crash when you don’t find it in yourself to open another box. Wise words from a pro.

Dad was so excited to start a new job that the moving truck would arrive and he’d just leave for the office tell us to have all the boxes emptied by bedtime. Perhaps that is partly the reason for my “box strike.” I also have sensitive work and personal files such as 20 years of taxes to go through and professionally shred. Daunting, indeed.

My husband told me I was emotional the other day. He is rational and methodical. I am a woman and have never been more rational and unemotional in my life because of being with him the past 12 years. If he said we have to move tomorrow we could do it with help. I wouldn’t cry about it, just take care of my dog and kitchen and art. Priorities. I know he’ll be on the truck, directing the crew.

We’ll still probably do it ourselves, but will have help. Paid help. I’ll pack boxes as usual, he’ll organize the truck and I’ll make iced tea and lemonade for the guys. And hearty sandwiches. Not that we’re making a move any time soon. I’m just moving in and making us comfortable!

This was a long one. My English Teacher Aunts may like it from the Sunshine State. Remember to put vodka into your stellar Bloody Mary mix! Dee

Drivers

Hello Reader:

After visiting an excellent flight museum this past weekend, I recall my drivers of days past. Led by Frank C, a former pilot, these intrepid retirees chauffeured our performers and lecturers and reported to a 19 year-old… me.

Once the Clancy Brothers, the Irish band, were in town and stayed outside of the village so they could have a telephone and tv, and my drivers told me I could take them to the venue and back and also of their off-the-book rules.

Yes, I was the proud owner of my parents’ brown Olds Vista Cruiser woody station wagon and walked through the paces as taught.

They would have needed two cars so I picked them up in my non-hip wagon on a  hot day, even hotter lights on stage and they were all wearing hand-knit fisherman sweaters. Yes, my mother used to knit them for all our cousins. Not us. I had to go to Oban, Scotland to get a cardigan for me.

My rule was to tell them the place is “dry” so if they want any alcohol I can stop en route to the venue. They asked me to stop and bought a six-pack of beer. One six-pack on a hot summer night. What’s up there?

I dropped them at the venue and asked if I could help take anything in (they had instruments, of course) and they said I could take the beer. Now, my father was running this teetotaler’s paradise and here was his oldest kid carrying a six pack and hoping there were no photographers around backstage.

Turns out their instrument cases were laden with many bottles of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey. After intermission the stage manager tottered out of their dressing room drunker than a skunk. All I did was hand them a check and say thanks and drive them back to their hotel.

Jolly good folks, actually. It was a fun night for all the audience. Another work day for me.

* * *

If you want to hear about other drivers, how about the last time I ever played golf at age 20. Dad ran the place so we’d show up at the golf course in the evening when no-one was there and try a few random holes.

The Pro, Stan M had lent me a set of clubs for the summer. I am a “leftie” but he assured me that right-handed ladies’ clubs would do me well. Our last hole I was 35 feet from the pin and in a sand trap. I took out a seven iron (no sand wedge) and chipped it right in, making par. Dad said from there on out, I was only allowed to drive the cart! I never played golf again.

* * *

Bowling; A pro was next to us as I was beating my husband with no training whatsoever. Somehow this beginner hit a 7-10 split and the pro that was just practicing next to us said “nice split.” I replied “beginner’s luck, and coming from you that is an honor.”

* * *

We look forward to Nanny getting our new outdoor Thanksgiving game, Kubb (pronounced KOOB) invented by Swedish Vikings centuries ago. We hope the kiddos get it and read the instructions and can beat all of us old folks by November.

Until then I’ve never played but in War Games the WOPR said at the end (no spoiler) “How about a nice game of chess?”

That’s all for now. Cheers, Dee