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Recruit a family with a dog or cat to a condo that went bankrupt because you know all the low-rises around ban animals or any dog over three pounds.

They made it into apartments and scrimped on some of the details, like using primer instead of paint, plastic and cheap tile instead of marble for the guest bath.

I have my ways, thick prime frames under the low sconces so my husband doesn’t get hurt as he is quite tall. I know he won’t hit my art, so will not hit the low sconce. Five years later, I told him that fact. Furniture or art under sconces.

There are many dog owners here, perhaps 50% and they recruited us and we pay a fortune for a view in this town.

Aye, there’s the rub. A few weeks ago they told us none of us were allowed to use the lobby with our dogs. There were many reasons floating around the resident rumor mill. They didn’t want to scare off new residents (they’re now 98% full) but the worst was they wanted to punish everyone for the actions of a few.

They don’t want to deal with the few bad people and their animals and would rather punish everyone for a situation they have created. I’ve been bitten badly once and that dog and his owner left. My dog was bitten twice two weeks ago in a matter of seconds. He didn’t draw blood. But the owner immediately contained him and said this had never happened before. That was a lie. Another dog owner told me he attacked his dog a few weeks ago. His dog is afraid of everyone but our Zoe.

We know the problem ones and don’t spend the time to write complaints or sign petitions. We just get it done.

Before that time we were told all dog owners were no longer allowed in the lobby, that we had to use movers’ doors and the Island of Misfit Appliances. I’ve arthritis and live alone with my dog every week. I fear for my safety unless the guard knows we’re out there and to call 911 if we’re not back in five minutes.

Again, we pay a fortune to live here and now we’re told we can only use the “poor doors” in case we offend potential neighbors. I wrote and told them I’m looking to both ADA (for my arthritis) violations, and a potential class action suit for violation of civil rights for treating us differently than a minority of other residents. Also that many of us would leave. Ah, things started to change a bit after that. I didn’t write civil and human rights and ADA laws for 34 million people for nothing, and I do have a brain. It took a culinary curveball when I quit the rat race and went to cooking school…..

I still continue to take my old dog out the front door, no matter what. Rumors say this week that one is only allowed to take a dog out the front door if it is matter of life and safety. It is, for Zoe and me. My husband flies out for the week, and Zoe had a seizure last week and has to go out every two hours because of the drugs she’s taking and I’m alone and looking at her nearly 24/7 watching her breathing.

Situations with people (loud parties, failing to take care of their animal) and pets and other issues should be dealt with as they arise and with a dog whether it be incessant barking, or more seriously, biting of people and fellow pets or eliminating in public areas. As my Zoe was viciously attacked for no reason, people who make decisions should force change or eliminate the bad apples and not punish the 98% of good folks who wish to walk through the lobby and not the “poor doors.”

Guess what? She is the oldest dog that has lived here for the longest time and is now the first to be on their new Instagram site called Bark Lafayette. Go figure. We’re going to keep walking through the lobby. We pay too much to share the poor door with movers and abandoned appliances. Enjoy your Friday! My husband arrives late tonight and instead of getting his favorite frozen pizza from the gas station up the street, I’m going to make my own from scratch, dough and et al. Plus a bit of homemade pesto. I need cheese. Cheers! Dee

No this is not a political piece about Vladimir Putin.

Olympic training was going on across the way, in the mountains of course. A team of Russian bobsledders moved in a couple places up our small street. They had a one-car garage and kept the bobsled in there and liked to have the garage door open while they maintained it and made modifications.

I walked our dog four times per day, at night with my husband, and every time they saw a person, even one walking a dog four times a day, every day, they immediately shut the garage door as if we were spies from another Olympic team. Believe me, aside from watching on TV a couple of times we know nothing about bobsled, luge or skeleton.

The scariest thing was that we had a 5 mph speed limit on our small and curvy street. The Russians would drive 50 mph while on a cell phone. Walking at all (there were no sidewalks) especially with an old dog, was frightening as they careened down the street.

My husband got LED lights for all our jackets, and a flashing collar and leash for the dog. They’re all dead now, the batteries, not the Russians. I don’t know how they did in the Olympics that year. Yes, the Russians, the batteries were still OK.

I still have these LED buttons on my jackets years later and people ask what they’re for. I say “to protect me from the Russians!” Then they ask me the story. It is as if I was wearing an aluminum foil hat to deter aliens!

Now we have electric winter jackets from a tool manufacturer. You press two buttons outside for the amount of warmth you wish. Everyone asks why I have red lights on my jacket. They’re all the rage for construction workers who are out in the elements in cold winters. My husband found one for his Dad, who owns a cattle ranch, and he didn’t like it so gave it back.

My husband kept it and found me a men’s jacket that didn’t fit quite right and was too heavy for me. He sent it back and got me what he calls “the girlfriend version” that works quite well. Get extra batteries and plug them in regularly and you’re good for the winter with a warm hat, gloves and boots. A scarf would be good as an extra measure. Even silk long undies, when I’m not wearing those under pants in the cold, I use them for sleepwear.

Sources (I do not get paid for this blog in any way and haven’t ever for over 10 years, and am not trying to monetize this site)

Electric jacket: Milwaukee Tool (online and sometimes at a Home Depot)

Silks: WinterSilks (online)

My hats are mostly from Fur Hat World (online) and because of the cold I’ve a lighter one of rabbit, and a stalwart one of lamb. PETA, leave me alone. I need Cossack hats because it’s cold here and I need my ears covered because they’re a health issue. If it makes you feel better I wear Crocs. I heard a comedian say recently that Crocs are for people who have given up on life! I haven’t but a lifetime of arthritis won’t let me wear heels.

I’ve no idea where my husband got the LED buttons for our jacket zipper closures or Zoe’s flashy collar and leash. And I think that anyone who plummets down mountains on curves that would frighten anyone has a need to go fast. They weren’t trying to run us over, just being themselves. This team just happened to be Russian. Cheers, Dee

I have two under my knees. I framed a photo and one said that I favored my father. I said that I did in more ways than looks.

The week before he died he was so thin. I lifted my leg and said to him “I inherited these calves from you, I want you to grow them back.”

Now my husband’s folks are moving for a reservoir for a big city and they recently moved their cattle to a larger ranch. His Daddy used to give me a ride on the four-wheeler and show me every baby calf. One was dead, one time and his mama was protecting his body. I was taken home before he dealt with that.

I guess cows don’t like twins because they shun one and it is left alone without milk/food. I got to feed a twin baby calf and he started yelling at me as I crossed the road to his pen with a pail full of formula. Perhaps a truck was driving by and I could not cross the road. He scarfed the milk formula down in no time and was a kind little guy.

Aunts are kind and fun. As with humans there are sometimes Aunts who take care of the unwanted, in the herd. Think of a Kindergarten teacher with kids. She watches over them and she’s the Nanny. They look to her and know they’re safe.

I still have my father’s body and facial structure and calves and love baby calves. My in-laws are moving to another ranch and I look forward to taking the four-wheeler and seeing baby calves, which are much more special than mine. Cheers to family farming, Dee

My second cooking school was in Italy. The chef was Piero. There were seventeen of us, mostly with a spouse or a gal from home. We had fun going to farmers’ markets, bakeries and a premier restaurant. Plus lessons, of course.

Often in restaurants they keep the oven at a certain temperature and the cook must judge the timing of a dish based on that constraint. Or use the Salamander (broiler). When asked, Chef Piero would always say “eight minutes.”

I had already joked with him about the eight minute rule so set up one of my colleagues to ask “how long?” We all called out EIGHT MINUTES!!! He laughed.

I rarely take out the ironing board but have a wonderful iron, a Rowenta. No more $8 irons for me! The board leaves much to be desired as it is flimsy and light and does not deserve a Rowenta.

There were a couple of my shirts to be ironed, which still hasn’t been done, and my husband asked why I didn’t just send them out with his shirts. I’ve not done that in a long time and I think I didn’t deserve that and had to wash and iron them myself. I’ve been sending my husband’s shirts out for years.

A few years ago my mother-in-law was visiting. I bought an inexpensive white denim . jacket that she insisted on “blinging” so I’ve silver around the collar and along the back horizontal seam. There is a peace symbol on the right arm and a LO VE symbol on the back. I’m thinking of the Beatles. I’ve another love symbol in script to iron-on and have ordered another and washed the jacket yesterday, hung it to dry and just need to iron it. I figure some of the old people in the neighborhood will recognize “Love, Love, Love” as the Beatles.

Flowers. I’d love to grow them. Tonight I saw a DIY piece on making a trellis and hanging flowers and herbs outdoors in coffee filters, ensconced in diy gutter boxes. I could do that on our balcony, we grill (he grills) out there but we have never taken a seat out there. Buying cut flowers is a chore, always re-doing arrangements. I’ve one on my desk for Dad, one for our immediate family made of three mini milk bottles (my husband grew up on a dairy), now one for his uncle who died last week. And one for fun.

He doesn’t notice the flowers, just knows they are present. I started getting scientific vessels so he would notice that after 16 years I started to buy HIM flowers (flasks and a graduated cylinder, even framed an old print of said items for him) to no avail. Ah, well, what is a wife and writer to do. I know, these days I’m “just the wife.” He might notice if the flowers were absent.

I realize that most of the art works in our home are from me and my family, as he just doesn’t care. Our home should reflect both of us but like the sole plastic colander he brought to our kitchen from college days, he has not brought much to the table for me to frame. His folks are moving after 40 years in their family home. I’ve been offered his high school graduation photo by his mother the other day and have the perfect spot for it. Next I get to go through his baby book, another gift from his dear Mom. Cheers! Dee

Hello Germany! My father grew speaking only German at home. His father fled in the late 20’s and supposedly jumped ship in the NY harbor, where his wife and he left for more Germanic views. His mother was from Switzerland, spoke German of course. We lost Dad last year.

I’ve an assistant who comes by once a week for an hour, or two. She helps me with a few things I cannot do for myself because of old age and arthritis. She’s great at measuring and hanging pictures, as well.

Yes, she does “spiff” our home. Others have her take all their bedding out to be cleaned, cook, take out the dog, and pack boxes for them while designing and buying furnishings for the huge home they moved into.

Ms. B does not do our sheets, dishes, cook, walk our dog or look into the refrigerator or take out the trash or recycling. That is my job. There are certain cultures who are used to having a number of servants for everything they need. It would scare me to have a live-in assistant because I am a lifetime advocate of personal privacy. The NSA monitors this and anything I write and any phone conversation. The IRS monitors everything else. There is no place to have personal peace these days. I hear that cell phones monitor conversations even while off.

I don’t need much. Having a husband and a cool old dog is OK with me. Last week I was at the hardware store and a few things were in the dollar box. I spent $4 with tax. All culinary items. My husband questioned me on it and I said “you just spent $500 on a rolling laptop bag and you’re asking me about $4?” Enough said.`Cheers, Dee

So, when I was out of college I traveled around Europe with a backpack and stayed at pensions where one could exchange books for free, as in give a book, get a book. It was a worthy service.

Yesterday I went to a book box in a local neighborhood and got two books. Today, I returned with four to donate, but got a further two. Whoopsie, I’ll have to donate four back. That is just my theory. I like donating to this volunteer service because I grew up reading books since age four and tend to collect said items.

Before age eight I had read Death Be Not Proud and The Diary of Anne Frank. Now my eyes are failing. The school went to phonics and two of us were already reading so we had to sit in the back of the room and read our own tomes. His were about baseball and mine were history, horses, ballet, whatever I could get my hands on from the local library. It was slim pickin’s in a village of 400. My sister and I couldn’t get our hands on a play we could or wished to put on for the family (we actually issued tickets) so we started with dear Charlie Brown. I was always Lucy and young brother was Snoopy. My younger sister was anyone else.

Three things my mother did for me, she gave me life, she averted the Catholic school the Church wanted to send me to, and she talked to the principal to assure that I would not be forced to learn phonics as I’d known how to read for years as I taught my sister when she was four years old. God bless her for those gifts.

With the internet and blogs I read much less. Yesterday I picked up a baby board book I gave to a neighbor and a novel, then donated two novels, a picture book and a cooking book. Today, for my husband I picked up Opera For Dummies, I’ve yet to take him to one but I did get him to see the ballet, once. Also, a gourmand’s cookbook which I’ve yet to open since it’s been less than an hour since I walked there and I had to check on our old dog and run some laundry.

* * *

Love, love, love. The Beatles. I just washed a white Old Navy denim jacket that did not come out pristine, I used Zout on the cuffs and neck. I’m drying it on a hanger and will probably use more Zout and then bleach it tomorrow, when I throw in some of my husband’s t-shirts he only uses on weekends, stained with tomato sauce from his brief culinary expeditions into spaghetti and meatball land. At least we can use these white items for dog-walking….

Anyway, my loved one’s mother blinged out this jacket and I’ve LO VE on the back and just found an iron-on love in script. One more and I’ll have a Beatles song along the back. I’m sure a local artist will love that. The jacket even has a peace sign on she sewed onto one sleeve. Thanks to M, this jacket is art so I’ll have to make sure it is fully clean before adding anything else. Of course I only wash it buttoned and turned inside-out and then hang it to dry.  It is almost spring, with peace and love, Dee

Learn one new thing per day. Reach out and talk to someone and learn something small or remarkable. You might learn something non-pharmaceutical that helps an earache or another that allows your pet to eliminate normally.

Yesterday I learned that my husband hates roasted kale. Lightly dressed with olive oil (the good stuff), salt and pepper and crispy I think he tried one piece and left the rest on his plate. At least he tried it! My aunts always made me try something before they let me know what was in it.

I would try it, like it and they’d give me the recipe. That is how I first learned to cook.

Politics taught me too many things a day but I kept up. 750 bills to manage, no assistance, no computers, everything by hand. I learned a lot, every day, those years and developed my own systems for bills, and for randy elected officials and legal counsel.

“Good to see you sir!” Suggestive comment from him. “And how is Mary, and is Amy doing well in art school?” Oops, Dee is a few years older than my daughter. End of threat.

The worst line ever, that I was called into a high government official’s office for, for him to nearly turn over his chair for laughing, was from one of their lawyers. “You’re an attractive woman, I’m a man, we both have needs.” I brushed him off and went upstairs to our apartment and half the legal staff was there with my female roommate and they and I were laughing so hard I had to use the loo. Then I told them the story. They were supposed to show up earlier at our “place,” but did not. They offered me a glass of sherry, not to my liking. That was a learning experience. Then they told their boss, the high government official who called me in, the story as they were all roommates. That lawyer never bothered me again in that domain.

The elevator conversations were worse but while I was never on the debate team in high school I learned with epees how to thrust and parry and when to do so in conversation. I was young but learned about many legal areas and loved my “family” of 62 at work and organized many functions, plus stayed hours later than everyone because of workload and that I was single and could call them if they needed to show up for their area of expertise.

It is an interesting route to go from “single” to “just the wife,” that is a learning curve I’ve been on for over 15 years and still trying to learn how to deal with bill paying where our bank will not discern that I had these accounts years before I met my husband, and governments, so that’s a daily learning session.

Learning to deal with people is an everyday occurrence. They’re usually interesting, sometimes nasty with a dog who bites mine. We learn to get around the problems but one happened two weeks ago. The owner was very responsible but the dog did attack mine twice in about 30 seconds. She is old, and has been friends with him since he was a pup. I thought about it and sent them a nice note about finding a trainer versed in the breed and offering a walk-by after training was complete.

Whatever it is, learn something every day. After I did the research and our old dog Zoe’s hips were taken out at a critical puppy age she had to grow her own from cartilage. She had a sort of seizure the other day and now her gall bladder needs support as well so she’s on drugs that make her drink 1/2 gallon of water a day (she weighs under 35#) and go #1 like a racehorse. Yes, she usually goes every 8-10 hours but now it’s two hours.

I’m learning new things every day as I protect my husband and dog from harm. Please learn your own things that you need for yourself and your family. This is my family. Dee

I live over a lake where the wind changes every 30 seconds. I imagine myself as an air traffic controller telling each plane to take a different trajectory to land safely. Don’t worry, I will not become one.

As a kid I wanted to name things, like crayon or paint colors. I might have been good at that as a career. Burnt Sienna was my favorite crayon, partially because of the color and also because of the texture.

I’m a foodie and may actually write a story/cook book soon. I did go to cooking schools in NY and Italy and learned a lot but was not in the business for long.

Writer of great fiction or even non-fiction. I’ve been afraid to take that on, probably because of a snide laugh and a “no” from a publisher.

Art historian or conservator. I’ve aptitude only for the first.

Running a non-profit organization, probably a no-kill animal shelter. They don’t call me Aunt Dee in our communities for nothing.

A good cook. I am one, and with training should be a professional but I had an accident (not culinary) that took me out of the business for a while and I turned my sights to other pursuits.

Of course, first female President, gold medal Olympics gymnast, ballet dancer, horsewoman. Perhaps I should place some of these on a bucket list. Forget President.

In the real world one thing I would like to do is to save feral cats. Out west caretakers trap them and bring them in for spay/neuter and health care, then take them back behind a strip mall where they were picked up knowing they’re OK, and provide food. Here, I believe they are just shot. I would like to change that. If someone tosses a box of kittens into a dumpster, it’s not their fault and they should have a chance at life.

Years ago I walked up to San Miniato al Monte above Florence, Italy that is a route I’ll never get to walk again. There’s a church on the way up and a lady who brought spaghetti for dei gatti (the feral cats). I came back the next day and gave her about $20 and she said no. I told her it was for the cats, so she accepted it. There are kind people, priests behind the church feeding ferals, and other caretakers all over the world. I’ve changed a few things in this town. Now might be the right time.

No, I will never be President, thank goodness. I do small things where we live, like a crosswalk nobody stops at, a pat on the chest for a dog, hug for a cat or helping someone through any loss.

I’m no good at loss. Our Uncle died the other day and was buried today. I talked to my father-in-law tonight for a while about the service that we could not attend. Our dog had a seizure the other day and I’ve been up day and night making sure she’s breathing and taking her out every couple of hours because she’s old and now on steroids and drinking water like crazy. What? I can do something about that. Aunt Dee to the rescue! Cheers, Dee

Yes, I did graduate from a French culinary school in NYC and got to cook graduation dinner with my seven compatriots. Dinner was at the James Beard House and my large, extended family sat upstairs in his bedroom at the largest table in the room and stayed for a feast of re-imagined leftovers, 20 new dishes for family and the entire neighborhood.

Well, not the entire neighborhood, I excepted the guy who made me have a doggie bag in my hand, visible at all times when I visited, and who told my parents they were not allowed to have a holiday wreath on the front door. He lived his life to complain to the homeowners association for suspected violations. Hey, I cleaned up after the family dog in 4′ of snow and deposited it appropriately when I visited. The fact that the bag was in my coat pocket at the time is not worthy of a complaint.

Anyway, they were not invited. Later that day, for extended family, I prepared a side of salmon with scallop mousse, covered with sliced zucchini to look like fish scales and my cousin made fried parsley for garnish. I don’t remember what greens or potatoes we had with it. That was the only time I ever made that dish.

Yes, I’ve made cassoulet with lamb and sausage and all the trimmings. Once, for my father. He told me it was the best meal he ever had. It only took two days to prepare.

Then I decided that all the great French chefs, Escoffier, Careme were creating master sauces to cover the smell of rotting meat, because there was no refrigeration. Come on, the French only bathed once a month and used perfume instead.

Immediately I went south to Italy and Greece, have yet to visit Spain. Few ingredients, best ingredients and care taken in selection, preparation and execution. We’re set up for homemade hand-cranked pasta, and fluffy pancakes with whipped egg whites. My husband loves basic spaghetti and meatballs in a jarred tomato cream sauce but it all comes from the premier Italian market right down the street.

I can make a fantastic beef stew that includes sauteed onions, bacon and a bottle of good amber beer. Moussaka, though my husband hates eggplant, Veal or chicken Milanese. He has favorites that made their way through powdered lemonade, individually packaged string cheese, all the way to discussions about a 4-5 year-old cheddar, and whether it will be filet au poivre or skirt steak with a parsley chimichurri. That’s the way it rolls here. Gotta go check on the dog to see if she’s breathing. Cook! Dee

Welcome India, Nicaragua, South Africa, Serbia and Ireland!

I took a center piece of salmon, skinned it, placed it on a bed of braised leeks with salt, pepper and grainy mustard and cooked it en papillote. Parchment paper, a heart that I fold my own way. 8-10 minutes in a 350 degree oven for a 4-5 oz piece.

I’ve red, white and purple baby potatoes that I parboiled the other day and added a bit of mayo and tarragon, s&p. Also I roasted some baby kale in a touch of olive oil, s&p until they were crispy.

Tasty nuggets of goodness! After her neural incident the other day ancient dog Zoe is on antibiotics and steroids. It was determined not to be a seizure because she never lost consciousness. All I know is that I stay up much of the night to make sure she is breathing. Her breathing has gone back to normal but she was tripping over herself in the snow early this morning. I’ll try to run to the store now while she sleeps. She doesn’t hear me or see me much (cataracts). She’s going through water like crazy and asking to go out every few hours! Oh well, I’m shy of her human age by about 40 years but hope my husband is around to help me out….. Another day, Dee