Category Archives: Uncategorized

There is labor involved in college student cooking, in order to save money and feed people who all, hopefully, chip in. My rule is that I was asked to cook all the meals, but never set the table, cleared or did dishes. I was not supposed to shop either but they were so bad at it every week I pushed the cart and read off my list and instructed them to get 50# of potatoes, not fifty cans. Six of us were supposed to live there but the numbers went up and neighbors happened in for dinner and we played UNO every evening. The only thing we didn’t have back then was pets. Thank goodness for that. I don’t think my $10/week allowance would have paid for our food and my feminine products and pet food.

College kids do better with a chef’s knife/Santoku and a paring knife, cutting board and a couple of pots and pans, utensils and fresh ingredients. They can eat better without cans or pre-prepared food. Please check out my cookbook selections, utensils and essential pantry on this blog. There is no remuneration to me for these efforts on your behalf.

Manual labor is one thing, a culinary manual is another. We help him through private school and it’s a couple of years to college. As “Aunt Dee” I would like to get him some tools to get through. After all, his father grew up on a dairy farm and grandpa now has a cattle ranch. He has to know how to cook, at least a good steak.

I think a few recipes each for breakfast, lunch and dinner are a good start. I can enhance oatmeal with the best of them. If it’s OK with his parents I can include a “date meal” but only if he lives with three other guys and has no privacy. Cheers! Dee

I took Zoe, our ancient dog, out for “last chance” at nine and it was raining, snowing and sleeting all at once. Needless to say, she did not wish to be out there. I watched from above and the streets and sidewalks were just wet. Ten minutes later they were covered in snow as well, along with rooftops and park grass. At one-o’clock this morning I awakened to snow plows, an unusual sight/sound in this town. I’m thinking the roads were icy so usually they just salt the heck out of things so they don’t have to plow.

Zoe is sound asleep on our bed while I’m in the den writing. She’s not hearing or seeing so well these days but is still a chow hound and everything else seems good.

I heard sounds, not dog scratchy nails on floors or cat stealthy walking-around sounds, but thumping, hippity hop, like a rabbit or two. Then I got up and found tiny things like a watch and key ring and other stuff on the carpet around the bed and checked the doors. Then I awakened to the snow plows. Of course there were no rabbits or things on the floor as that was just a dream. The doors were securely locked and Zoe never awakened.

My chili got a good reception, before the tasting. I brought a small amount of chili, spoons, napkins, sour cream and lime for my butchers at our local grocery who ground and re-ground 4# of chuck and tri-tip coarsely for my Texas chili. There’s nothing like walking to the butcher station to have one of the guys ask “what do you want, Dee?” “I come bearing gifts.” “Really?” Yes, I’m the one customer who brings their food back in as gifts. Perhaps I should check out our local fire station and cook for them.

Then everyone calls out “Thanks, Dee!” Well, check the seasoning and let me know if it needs to be spicier. My place smells like cumin right now, dirty socks. I ate a bit for lunch today, cold and it held up. On Friday I’ll heat a frozen container up and re-season for when my husband arrives home from a week away at work.

Now don’t get the idea of hopping around here in the middle of the night. First of all, I have no watch and have never had a keychain like the one I found in my dream. I do have a clean home and look forward to making a pot roast in the slow-cooker (second time a charm?) for the weekend. Perhaps also a roast chicken. I do love cooking for people, especially my husband. Chicken with roasted potatoes/rosemary, and roasted heirloom carrots. Sounds good. Keep cooking! Dee

No, I never had one formally. But I did. They’re called Aunts. Real Aunts, great Aunt, friend Aunts and motherly Aunts.

Mostly, as I lump them into a pile here, they taught me to believe in myself and others, and that learning is the key to strive and survive. At times at work, I thought that all the guys who golfed and got off work hours before I did (I was single) had a mentor and I’d never had one. I was wrong. I had Aunts.

Great Aunt O introduced me to my first gay man, let me put on a helmet and take a motorcycle ride with him. I can say that now that Mom’s been gone nine years as she never knew I rode a motorcyle! I’ve been a “gay magnet” ever since. O’s husband used to say “if there’s a gay man within a mile he’ll find my wife.” I love my gay friends. I love my Black friends and that’s not someone I ever saw in our little village of 400 folks. Tolerance.

Aunts AL and J, education. We moved away before I could be taught by them Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, the Holocaust, and Native Americans. That is not right. They taught me every day we were together. When we were helping out and needed to use the “loo,” we had to find a word in the dictionary we’d never heard, pronounce it, spell it, verb or noun then use it in a sentence.

I just gave a condensed 1973 edition of the OED to local kids, and have a Webster’s Collegiate edition in our guest “loo” for errant children like I might have been. I don’t think I was errant, probably too complacent before I evolved but interested in education.

J the friend Aunt helped me to think for myself and believe in myself and for that she deserves my never-ending thanks. J the godmother always gave me praise and in doing so, helped me on my way.

You know how kids always ask “when is there going to be a children’s day?” The adult always says “every day is children’s day!” When is there going to be an “Aunt” day? All the pets in the neighborhood call me “Aunt Dee.” Cheers! Auntie D

First of all, I’ve little jewelry. Yes, a wedding band, Claddagh ring and several bracelets, some magnetized to minimize arthritis. Also one wooden guitar pick on a leather rope inscribed with a Celtic knot (infinity) that I wear every day to memorialize my father.

My husband always says “I don’t know what kind of jewelry you like, so I stopped by the airport gift shop and got you a refrigerator magnet.” I have them from Wyoming, California, Texas, Minnesota, Hong Kong, Bangalore, and others.  I’ve moose and Indian chefs, ships in Hong Kong and Indianapolis horses/colts, we had a contest on that one as we left separately, he got the black horse, I got the white one. One went to a deserving child.

Many have springs so they all move when I open the frig, like when I will put the pedal to the metal and make my Texas chili (no beans) for tonight. Remind me to save some for my butchers, who are so good to me. I’m the only person who brings food into the store, for them. Today’s Pedernales Chili will not only have tomatoes and its’ sauce, I’m adding one beer, a Corona Light, for braising liquid that does not taste like water. Check out the recipe on the LBJ Presidential Library, Pedernales Chili. I make my own riff on it.

As to food, I moved away from home for three years without one of my 200 cookbooks. Bereft, when we finally got internet service I looked up ideas for dishes. Then I had my own ideas that included whatever was fresh at the market. Later, I got my books back but aside from reference for sauces or roasting or anything by Julia Child, I do my own thing.

Yesterday I bought specialty carrots and radishes, as well as a new apple variety for my husband, who is home for the weekend. Sleeping, Shhhhhh. I’ll make the chili in a couple of hours.

Flowers. Just as with food, I pick and choose. I’m taking a class next weekend. Thanks to the ladies there, I’m no longer afraid of flowers. It’s like food, pick and choose. I made a lovely arrangement for St. Patrick’s Day with heather, dianthus, Bells of Ireland and white spider mums. There are two red roses next to me on my desk for my dear father.

There are three Gerbera daisies in tiny milk bottles (a dairyman’s son) and we are yellow and our old pup is white. At the bottom of the metal cage the milk bottles came in, are three hand-knitted (not by me) finger puppets/ornaments. My husband grew up on the dairy so he is a cow, dog is a dog and I’m a horse, probably with no name, get it?

Pick and choose. Forget the frozen and most of the canned food aisles aside from tomatoes, rice and couscous and know what foods are in season. Know what flowers are in season and find a great florist, as I have, where you can purchase by the stem and make your own arrangements.

Find out if your spouse wants expensive gifts or airport mementos for the frig. Cheers! I just got a wiggly plane from So Cal. Yee haw! Dee

like a red rubber ball. Beatles. Sad song, alas.

Given that, the sunrise was glorious. Z and I took our two-minute walk (she wants breakfast and back to bed, she’s trained me over 14 years) and said hello to folks well before 7:00 a.m. She’s now licking her bowl and coming to see me.

There are priorities in life, love and dog-parenthood. I’m not ready to tell you what they are because I haven’t prioritized them as yet. Cheers! Dee

Yesterday I wore a long-sleeved cotton shirt (with pants of course) and a very light, long microsuede coat, and the weather was gorgeous. The “bluebirds of happiness” are now on our front door, replacing the moose, evergreen and bear plaques my husband hates.

Flowers. This is a sin I will pay for, Fathers Cap and John (may they rest in peace) but I picked heather and delphinium, bells of Ireland and spider mums for St. Patrick to round it out. These floral ladies are teaching me to think about flowers. I bought the first ones but needed white spider mums to make it come to life. Yes, I’ve a class there next month for a Spring arrangement.

I have never ordered the boxed refrigerated food delivery. In cooking school I learned to shop produce, fish, meat, dairy on the outside and only go inside for cereal, oatmeal, pasta, rice et al. I used to have a service that provided great milk and apple juice, bacon, and as a surprise I got the package, which contained ingredients that were local, fresh and in season. It was my task to make that butternut squash work. Local, fresh.

The thing about flowers and food is that in order to be creative one must learn the basics then use them to their advantage, one veg or meat or flower at a time. I bought daffodils at my organic grocery, placed them in vases within 20 minutes and in four hours they were dead. I’ll get avocados, steaks, salmon, brussels sprouts there but not flowers. My flower experts are a block away and let me choose by stem. That’s what they are teaching me as it’s the same as cooking, with a different skill set.

After 15 years of my husband buying me flowers, he’s away all week on business so I buy him flowers. He never noticed them until I found some flasks online. He’s a physicist. He arrived home one night and said “That’s a Florence flask, Erlinmeyer flask, graduated cylinder and pipette!” Yes, Dear. I also framed him a 1970’s drawing of many flasks. If I place a Gerbera daisy in a chemical flask, he’ll notice.

Just like making him true Texas chili, no beans. So here’s what I’m up to, culinarily.

Salmon en Papillote

Salmon steak or fillet, individually portioned and seasoned with s&p, take off skin if preferred

Leeks, whites and light green only, halved, sliced, washed and sauteed, seasoned, in butter

Grainy mustard

Parchment paper. I fold a piece and cut it into a heart shape, place leeks on the bottom, salmon and mustard on top and fold the paper, I’ll have to show you how to do so. Place on a sheet tray and cook at 375 for about eight minutes. Remember, the leeks are cooked.

* * *

I’m also looking into a bake of flour tortillas, beans, cheese, homemade salsa and guacamole. How that’ll go, I don’t know.

My framer awaits, as I’ve similar destinations for other works I’ve found and been given over the years. She gives me ideas and I choose, just as at the grocery and florist. The last one I did was mostly on my own, without her. I had to choose everything myself except for the fillip (I only thought that was for vehicle gas tanks) and I called the next morning and my friend was in. It is a charcoal drawing of dancers Dad gave me nearly 30 years ago and it was in the winning college art student’s “uniframe” all that time. When she answered the phone she said she loved my choices and couldn’t wait to get started on it. Really??? I wanted to send Dad a photo of it but he died before I could send it.

Confidence builds. One makes choices and sometimes, like me, thinks outside the box. Enjoy your life. Express your unique personality. Cheers! Dee

My husband and I are more alike than one would think. Yes, he’s a physicist, science and math geek and software consultant. I’m more sociology and psychology, lobbyist, non-profit consultant and volunteer leader.

We do agree on leadership. Train your people well. Let them do their jobs. Check in to make sure everything is OK. If not, your day will be spent running the gauntlet to allow them to accomplish the task at hand. You’re the trainer, scout, supervisor, but mostly you get obstacles out of the way so your teams can be successful.

He can buy them a beer after a tough day. With a poor non-profit we had feral cat spay/neuter clinics behind vet offices in the parking lot on a Sunday and we’d handle, back then, up to 200 per day on a monthly deal as volunteers. It was a grueling process and day and with great principles and practices which I enhanced with training and procedures for “recovery.” On my own, I trolled the front of the strip mall before we started and found the best spot.

I bought a soda and they asked what on earth was going on out back? I told them, thanked them for the soda and left. Three sentences. Strange questions answered. No request for contributions. When they asked “how many volunteers?” I knew it was in the bag. Fifteen minutes later they all came out with food and soda for everyone. Thanks, Aunt Dee. That was part of my never-known contribution for our peeps, all of them. As for me, once I touched a cat there was no soda, I only drank from the quart bottle of water I brought with me.

It was hot out there most of the time. One time there was a deluge and all our tents threatened to break. We found lawn and leaf bags and cut holes in them for our arms. Volunteers went to their cars for umbrellas and we used them to transport the cats from surgery to the waiting room at the vet clinic and found extra heaters, even hair dryers to keep the anesthetized cats warm and dry indoors. Volunteers paired, one umbrella over the cat, two volunteers. No-one died that awful day. Well, I had a school bus yellow pair of Van’s that died overnight of mildew from the flood. We all made do. Teamwork.

Let them do their jobs, do not micro-manage. I had many volunteers and could fire them at will and never had to do so but did re-arrange a few, usually at their request. They were motivated by the tasks at hand and by their leader, moi. “Go home, now, while you can get out of here! Great job! I’ll stay on ’til the last cat is picked up. Really, see you next time. Thanks so much.”

Pick the right team and let them do what they’re good at. Loosen the leash. My husband has a 16′ leash with a computer chip silk Martingale collar I bought him. He lets the dog go to the end and is on the phone all the walk. Zoe sometimes finds nasty stuff to eat and throws up on our bed (a day’s work for me) but she is a good girl and keeps me safe when he is away on business.

I keep her on a 6′ braided leather leash and don’t bring my cell on walks but spend a few moments with her outdoors and indoors meeting her/our friends. We have several Martingale collars, one will be put on immediately. She’s now in Scottish tartan, it will be Irish green for St. Paddy.

If you ever think about getting a herding dog, know that they herd. You are their cattle, goats or sheep. They will follow you everywhere, watch and stand by the door when you go to the grocery store, and sleep on your bed. Everything is “routine” once they do something and like it (taking my husband to work) so it must be done.

Our Zoe knows how to manage people, especially us. She has a different style, staring us into submission. She does make it up to us by being kind to us and others, and very complacent at home, sleepy one…. Like a child, she does not micro-manage, just lets us know what she needs. And unlike a human, she never lies. If she needs to go out, get your coat on and go.

Life and old dog Zoe have trained me well. Dee

About ten years ago my husband was in NYC for work, and I came for play. I think my younger brother and I over-used our subway passes to catch every museum in the City, including the Cloisters while my husband was at work.

My brother lives on the Upper West Side. Our hotel was a couple of blocks from Grand Central Station and his office. We arranged to meet for lunch and he was late. My husband is deathly allergic to fish but I checked the menu for him because I really wanted to go to the Oyster Bar in Grand Central. Architecture.

I checked in at the desk, have no clue what I was wearing but it probably wasn’t jeans, nor would had it have been in any way provocative. I said that my husband will be joining me in a few moments. Nudge nudge, wink, wink. There were three tables that sat two, just a few steps above the main dining room.

They sat me in the middle table, facing the room. Soon two other couples arrived. Apparently “husband” is a code word because a few moments later a lower-end “hooker” arrived with her date, then a high-end “escort” with hers. I realized that we were the show.

My husband arrived, we kissed for a peck then talked to each other and listened to conversations around us, both wearing matching wedding rings. I was insulted, yet the sociological education was right there next to us. There were differing conversations but both women facing the room, as was I, were in the same business. Keeping men happy, but our love is eternal and their dates brief and inconsequential.

My husband would be upset because it was so hot. I had to get the subway to see my brother at a museum and was tired at the end of the day to get to our hotel and take another shower and he was jealous that I was doing what he never, ever wants to do, go to an art museum. He should have been grateful that my brother was protecting me on the streets and sidewalks of New York City. He was not.

So I asked him to lunch at the Oyster Bar. I probably wore a long skirt and a blouse or something like that. I was in my mid-40’s. Did the maitre’d think I was a Madam? No, sir, it is Madame Dee, or Aunt Dee as all the pets in the neighborhood call me. We’ve been married over 15 years and still laugh about finding ourselves in this situation.

Did you notice all the women are facing the room and the men unavailable to view? He could have lost his job if there were good smart phones back then, all for having a burger while his wife ate seafood, with matching wedding rings. Those were the days, Dee

They’re flirting. We were coming in from our walk and she stood still. I only saw a guy across the street walking by parked cars. Come on, let’s go and get you breakfast. No. There’s a dog between the parked cars.

Two weeks after 9/11 Americans were allowed back into our country. I was off on a family reunion in Europe. I sat at lunch in a chain restaurant at the bar and we all talked. Later it was just us. We talked about everything and shook hands in the parking lot and he said we may share a movie sometime as friends.

Next night he called me, dinner and a movie, picked me up, opened my car door and took my hand and we’ve been married over 15 years.

Mr. Y, who I do not know but my husband does, was seen by my Zoe across the street. They never saw each other again and Zoe is 98 in people years. It’s like the end of Doctor Zhivago. Mr. Y whined as they crossed paths. No, his name is not Yuri. Across the street, he whined for Zoe, who has many friends human, canine and feline.

I can think of this as her consistent friendliness to all or being near death. I choose the former and fear the latter. We can’t have kids, so she’s our girl and even at age 98 my husband would say she’s not allowed to date. Flirting is OK. To happiness and longevity, perhaps he’s an angel taking her to another place. I will not part with her easily but will let her go when she needs to do so. Dee

My dear father moved up to better jobs all his life, uprooted my mother and four kids , I’m the eldest, and gave away the dog to a farm and we would drive to the new destination every couple of years.

When we arrived he’d tell us little kids that the moving truck would be here soon, he was going to his new office to check things out, and that any box with our name on it must be un-boxed and put away before he came home that evening.

As a mature adult I am still moved around the nation and world on a whim. Now it’s my husband’s. When I get a picture framed, he says “you’re not moving, you’re nesting!” What’s wrong with having something on a wall? I’m a woman and will not live in a man cave with dark blinds overlooking the back of mailboxes and a parking lot.

As it is, he flies to work every week and returns on the weekend so I am alone with our old dog, Zoe.

Today, a pass-through is a legal entity that is recognized by a client. Ours doesn’t like the fact that they did not recommend my husband to said client so they cannot demand an excessive percentage of his hourly rate. All they are supposed to do is cut a few checks per month for pay and expenses.

He was on a plane at a very early hour for work, I know because I had to awaken the dog and walk her, then make him oatmeal (regular, not quick, with cinnamon, maple syrup, vanilla then topped with blueberries). Yum.

As my husband was on a plane I had to call the pass-through to ask two questions. How do we bill for hours, and also how do we process expenses? Their answer? You cannot do that, as he does not work for us.

My real question is if my husband has been working for this client for two weeks as a volunteer with no compensation for his work or recompense for expenses we have advanced to two large for-profit companies, or has the pass-through check-writer developed carpal tunnel syndrome?

We created a company at the insistence of the two others. Our investment was the time and effort of two consultants. Priceless. Also $25 to open a bank account, that last week went down to $15 because of bank fees. We are personally lending our corporation money to pay multiple fees and me to do compliance filings with no income whatsoever, along with our personal taxes.

What is wrong with this picture? After we met over 16 years ago he had me give up most of my volunteer responsibilities so we could marry and move anywhere. He said that “anything worth doing is worth getting paid for.” Tell that to a feral cat living out of a dumpster out back of Wal-Mart.

I donated my bean bag training cat, Snowflake The Wonder Kitty, to my volunteer team (I was asked to allow filming of my volunteer training, with Snowflake showing the lack of muscular control an anesthetized feral has, by the prestigious San Francisco SPCA.) Now Snowflake #2 looks at me as I write and the organization for which I volunteered has adopted several of my policy recommendations and this week commended me for my service on their behalf.

It was always something to be dreaded and enjoyed. Up to ten hours and 200 cats, doing transport and training and managing volunteers. Emergency, taking back to surgery for new orders. Yes, I know what tapeworms look like, tiny grains of rice that wiggle. No freaking way is this cat ever going back into a trap, even for mackerel. Let’s treat him now.

Change the chart for Droncit. Back to ER (back of a SUV). They told me not to see my cats when I returned home. Strip in the garage and take a shower ASAP. Well, I had no w/d back then and pulled into a carport. I don’t think my neighbors wanted to see me naked so I was as careful as I could be and bagged my clothes and took the shower. After all, I was “Aunt Dee” so I got all the mange and ringworm cases. Not good for home.

I miss my volunteer days as I age and no-one will give me anything challenging any more. But I worked a full week for pay, usually, non-profits then volunteered on weekends and evenings. Did I say pay? Yes. I’m retired but my husband is working for free a couple thousand of miles away, because he doesn’t work there until they get a number to enter him into the system so he can be paid. Perhaps I should advise my partner in life and business to stop volunteering! Dee