Category Archives: Uncategorized

Talk about a leap of faith. I took one fifteen years ago and so did my dear husband. Guess what? We’re still here. He still doesn’t like leftovers unless I make him a meat loaf sandwich. He’s physics and math, I’m writing and caring for others. A perfect pair.

The perfect pair who married us 15 years ago were similar. The Deputy Marriage Commissioner for the day called me his daughter, and his wife, my dear friend, called me so as well and signed the marriage certificate. I love their sons as brothers and their grandkids as cousins.

I did have to ask them to marry us. We asked for a meeting after dog-walking time. They’d known my husband briefly. I brought up the subject. It was Tuesday. We’d decided to elope the day before and wished to get married at noon on Saturday. I asked if the Captain (USN, Ret.) would marry us. He left us for a moment and came back and said, only if he gets to write the vows. OK, I’ll type them for you. “Mom” was an officiant.

We plan to use these vows to have a renewal with families present. They’re gone now and we plan to attend “Mom’s” interment in a sacred place alongside her husband of 56 years. Actually, her husband forever because he was the Captain, but named her the Admiral.

They made such a difference in my life. Dee

I’ve tried for years to sign up to be a volunteer near my home. It has not been successful to date, but it has. Now they have multiple sign-ins and background checks. Mine would be clean but I’m nervous about the people that would “hire” me. Simple strategy works.

I am, was born as, and and will always be a volunteer. I just don’t need to be one on a schedule. Every time I walk out my front door I am a volunteer, just helping people  and pets one at a time. A few times a year I water a favorite tree of lost pets, Jake and Wurli. I’ll do that today.

Sometimes people want to just talk to me, introduce me to their new cat or ask dog training tips. I’m called “Aunt Dee.”

Validation on paper is not needed, I have it every day even if the Delta Society won’t let my old dog into hospice because she eats frozen raw lamb. That’s why she is healthy at fourteen years old, for goodness’ sake! Cheers and consider volunteering or just going about everyday business and helping others without a paper to prove it. Dee

I was a consultant for a prominent volunteer organization, created an area of expertise I became familiar with, and created 14 projects per month, seven times what the other project managers did.

Great team leaders were trained by me and sent out into the field for daily projects, like spaying and neutering 172 feral cats. I had such great people that I rarely attended a cat facility and concentrated my efforts on ferals and rescued Greyhounds and regularly checked in on my leaders.

In the end that Cares organization was taken over by United Way and all the Project Managers were summarily fired. I will not be giving money to United Way or volunteering for them. United Way lured me to an event to have me introduce them to a prominent legislator I helped elect, then fired me on the spot, as a volunteer.

In my years here I have not been offered any volunteer opportunities to which I can match my leadership and teamwork and get my hands dirty skills. Now Cares is run by United Way. They don’t embrace people like me and I believe it is a flaw in their carefully-run system. Don’t “hire” a volunteer who is smart and a leader, that is the policy. I can’t work for free for a company that cares for no-one, or be a donor. If I’m not out there in the field I am of no use to anyone.

My kids/volunteers used to call out “This one has ringworm. This one has mange. Call Dee!” That they did. I caught ringworm once. They were my peeps and watched their breathing and I dealt with surgery, talked shots and vaccines, flea combing and transport and ER and volunteer training. Now I have a husband, dog and assistant, and 1/2 of a business. I want to be useful. Dee

My husband left us for a full-time gig several states away.  I talked to him from my kitchen like he had never left. Our old dog went into distress and I did talk to the vets but she was protecting me and let out a bark anytime she heard a noise outside.

She’s sleeping soundly with my husband right now. ABC (airway, breathing, circulation) are covered as is temperature, by my hand on her forehead. Hey, I didn’t take the first HSUS/Red Cross animal emergency course for nothing. Now I’ve ordered a stethoscope. My vet, who runs the practice, is still on maternity leave for a couple of weeks.

I cannot take Zoe for long walks until I can do so with arthritis for 30 years. My dear Aunt gave me a “Winnie” over the holidays, a tri-pod walker with brakes (that don’t work in cold weather) and a small downstairs basket that can hold a few groceries as long as the heavy stuff is in back. I’m testing the rolling cart now that the sidewalks are mainly clear. Sidewalks and roads are never fixed here and even my snow tires go into potential sink-holes.

He takes her out for longer walks that I’m not sure she can endure these days. He’s always on an electronic device wherever he is, a phone when he takes out Zoe. He lets her out on a 16′ leash and she eats nasty stuff then throws up on our bed. Fun, yes!

They’re sleeping now and I am writing, on an electronic device. It somehow seems that this first week of being a ways away after some time at home has affected all of us. Right now I want them to sleep. I’ll see if I have room in the next few moments. Cheers! Dee

I know the part of my husband’s brain that knows me. He knows me after nearly 17 years together but doesn’t know the rest of me. Perhaps that is a challenge to find out over our years together.

The brain works in mysterious ways. I find it through art and have designed our home, inexplicably, by color and feature. All I wanted was a Tuscan retreat for the master. Other things came to pass. My framer and I get along very well.

Dad took up painting at age 80 and died at 85, over a year ago. One walks in to our small space and sees the three oranges. One a Tuscan retreat by Dad, another Maori-inspired by Dad, and a reproduction of the first four-color wood prints ever made, from Japan, all were gifts. The four-color wood block was entitled “Invitation to a Courtesan.” I tell kids who ask about it that her little sister is delivering the mail.

Then there is the kitchen with a stack of photos and art. Hallway is the “greens,” photos I’ve taken and purchased from gifted photographers and framed. Our bedroom is supposed to be a Tuscan retreat. Years ago I went to a place that sells recycled stuff in Texas and looked at what might be a place to store china and serving dishes from Italy.

I opened up the top drawer to assure the dresser had dovetailed joints. It did. There were two signed lithographs of Tuscan origin, numbered and signed. $2 each. Forget about the furniture, I got the two immediately and a few years later spent $250 framing them.

The living room is mostly blues, greens and browns. Blue and green are my husband’s favorite colors. Again, the brain works in mysterious ways. I usually plan things but here I am finding things and a way to integrate them into our lives and it is an instinct, a heartbeat, knowing what I want, not a talent. I love framing beautiful things. Dee

Yes, that is who I am. The newspaper delivery person has not been allowed to distribute papers individually for a while. I don’t get a printed version so I don’t know details. Now, apparently said person is allowed in, and tosses the local rag, NYTimes and WSJ out of the elevator and leaves. I just go out early with the dog so see them littered all around.

I pretty much know who reads what but they are no longer printing addresses so I’ve decided to leave the newspapers wherever they land and allow fellow citizens to complain. It’s not my job. I go out of my way to help folks and their pets, for free, and if they can’t step up for themselves I cannot do anything more for them. There is a need for more voices. If one wishes to open the door to a newspaper in pajamas and has to walk a bit, so be it.

There is a lot of what I call “entitlement theory” around here. “I’m better than everyone else, I’m more successful so I’ll call and say my dog peed, clean it up.) No, I don’t do that. If I was a female Warren Buffet I’d stay in my old home and act like a normal person, not a billionaire. I’m partial to my elderly SUV but could take out an old Ford truck for hay bales.

At two years old I left home with my stuff. When my parents confronted me, with an infant, my sister, who was taking all their attention, I simply told them “I’m going to have one of my own.”

After decades we do not have children but I’m working on a science and math decoupage project for a seven year-old bright child. The “mommy gene” has been in me for a lifetime. I don’t know that I can rid myself of it. Don’t know if I want to do so. Aye, there’s the rub. Cheerio and have a wonderful day. Dee

Hostage, perpetrator not caught. I was taking care of two dogs and fish at a neighbor’s about 1,000 feet away from my home. I went over there to take the dogs out and feed the saltwater fish and instead we spent six hours outside with SWAT teams in a hostage situation.

They moved the dogs to the garage after breaking the front window and bombarded every place with tear gas. The offender was two doors down. I asked what tear gas would do to the dogs and they said they moved them to the garage, they will not feel the effects. What about the fish? Fish will not inhale tear gas.

They paid me $10 for this pet visit. I spent six hours waiting to get in to perform my duties. I lost time at work because of safety concerns. SWAT team told me these were the wimpiest dogs they had ever encountered, after breaking through the living room window.

I tried to call the owners but they would not answer. The shooter shot himself, leaving the hostage. A young man who we hired to help us move a few years later (we moved in two doors up when we married) and he lived there, across the street from his parents.

That day will be remembered. Everyone but the shooter was OK. Oh, spending six hours standing on the street with police everywhere was above and beyond my $10 call of duty. The pet owners never even said thanks, even for the fish. Dee

Years ago there was a study of people and their pets. I remember one woman lived on the west coast of the USA and was in Japan on business. There were cameras installed in her home and as she got on the plane to come home her cat completely relaxed back in California. She let the tension go, from being away from home, and so did her cat.

My husband used to be away at work all week, every week. He’s been home writing a book for a while but is now away again. He called from a far-away airport and gave me flight info and said that he loves me. Our dog settled down and went into a deep sleep. She did not hear his voice but she did mine. I settled knowing he’ll be home safe.

Now I can monitor the flight and he’ll be home in a few hours. I believe that no matter the boundaries, even if there are no words there is a bond between humans, and humans and family members, including dogs and cats. I don’t understand fish.

Sometimes I just know something is going to happen, usually for the best. I can’t tell anyone because they’ll think I’m nuts (including my husband) but if there was a terrorist on my husband’s plane I’d probably know it and not from watching CNN or The Weather Channel. Kindred spirits, perhaps.

As for the dead, no. Occasionally I think of a question I would have liked to ask my parents. No-one’s ever answered in my unspoken quest, things like ancestry. I think that at my age I should think of the answer myself or Google it. Be calm. Your children and four-legged friends know when you are stressed and when your heart is no longer racing. Your loved ones are safe and nearly home. Cheers to you, remembrances and happy reunions. Dee

Welcome US, France and Netherlands! Do you know how many recipes I could try and share if you allowed me to do so, with credit to you, of course. A few years ago a Swedish neighbor taught me Swedish meatballs. I invited him over to learn Texas chili. We were both supposed to take a test without assistance from the “teacher” but he moved away.

Two weeks ago management tried to ban all dog owners from using the lobby. Most people only go through the lobby quickly with their dog, go for a walk, and walk back through to mention the weather, get packages, mail and drycleaning.

I must tell you that the lobby makes old Zoe the dog’s day. She is 14 and losing her sight and hearing so having a fellow resident give her a pat on the head or security to open the treat cupboard and have her do a trick for a milk bone she donates, she is thrilled.

It was necessary for me to tell one staffer who has been abrupt with me of late that the “dog ban” had nothing to do with him. He told me he was not allowed to talk about it. I said I’m not talking about it, I merely found that a policy, on paper, to rob 2/3 of the residents who live here with a dog from a lobby and its services was unfair. There was never any animosity toward any staff member who enforced said policy. At least we should have safe places to go, and not back hallways and maintenance garages (islands of misfit washers and dryers). We would require a rent abatement for that, plus lighting and extra security.

I merely suggested that when there is snow and excess salt on roads (the city doesn’t plow, perhaps a single city truck goes out twice a year in blizzards) and sidewalks that their black lobby floors are white with bootprints and pawprints so they decided to ban residents from the lobby so that they could keep it pristine for potential residents. I thought that having a maid service on call would be a lot less expensive than for them to lose 2/3 of their income when we all decide to move out. Some very swanky clientele, pro ball-players. Not me of course. During the winter season, have someone to mop the lobby floor if called. It beats restructuring, additional security and extra storage for the island of misfit appliances.

I did some research, very quietly, only mentioned it to my husband, on ADA (Americans With Disabilities Act) for me, and a class action suit for Civil Rights Violations, also Discrimination in Housing. They cannot deny basic services without reducing prices. My husband thought me nuts but I had a bee in my bonnet and needed to do the research if this escalated. I didn’t need to tell anyone about it but had to get out my frustrations before the next one, taxes.

Our lease was signed before the newer pet waiver, which I’ve never seen, that perhaps asks dog owners to use a side door. Zoe is old and loves meeting people and other dogs so I’m taking her through the lobby unless told not to do so as it’s in the paperwork, signed by both parties. If we are denied access, I’ve a few tricks up my sleeve. Hey, my husband knows I always find a tricky way through neighborhoods to get to the grocery store while avoiding a highway, or regular haunt. Cheers and trust in Dee, she thinks outside the box. Dee

ps I need social interaction as well. Zoe takes up a lot of my time these days as I monitor her breathing and temperature so I’m home, semi-retired. We love to see the mailman, concierge, say hello to folks in the lobby. My husband is back on the road after writing a book (you won’t find it in Barnes & Noble) so taking social interaction from me is ill-advised. dee

I’m beginning to think, after all this time, that I was a rebel even as a child. I no longer have parents to ask to tell me so. I can tell you that one loved me as I was and the other did not.

In grade school girls had to take Home Economics which taught us food costing and recipes for our lives being married years ahead. No college. We had been finishing a beautiful home on a cliff overseeing a Great Lake and I wanted to take Shop class to learn to give my parents a lamp.

I was brought into the Principal’s office, very daunting, where he told me in no uncertain terms that girls were not allowed to take Shop. I went to Home Ec where they taught us useless stuff then we had to cook in teams. I was elected team leader. I asked and they concurred that everything be chocolate, pancakes, everything. If we had to be there we needed to rebel. Then they made us create an eight-layer Jello cake (hello, was there a food network back then to film us?). We couldn’t use chocolate in that though now I’d have thought of chocolate mousse with raspberry gelatin and go down the path from there. Was Jello sponsoring this girls’ activity?

As an adult I remember, barely, a night with my step-sister in Florence. I watched Chopped and there was a basket that contained Amaro, a digestif. Back then we had just taken over an apartment in Florence from her uncles who flew home and were up in the middle of the night watching the Clinton hearings on CNN and finishing off their last half a bottle of Averna.

A few hours later her husband-to-be called, around six, and he told me not to wake her but to call back later. I became her social secretary for a couple of days. He was calling from Singapore or Japan on business, I don’t recall.

Chocolate and Amaro. It was interesting getting to know her a bit, a late night on CNN Worldwide and a digestif. We haven’t had the chance to talk since, even at Dad’s funeral a year ago.

I have protested since my early days, as I recall. Music and art went by the wayside, in terms of school funding. That is very sad as music helps math and art develops other skills that allow a young student to achieve success in later life. I took up guitar again at age fifty, and piano as well. Both have been on the sidelines as life has intervened.

Before I graduated from college, I had several mentors including my father, two priests, both Franciscan and from sociological and art history backgrounds. All are gone now. I swore off men and never met a man I loved until my early 40’s. We eloped. He’s 2,000 miles away at work today and I’m still talking to him as if he is at home writing a book. Yes, it’s published, but only a few copies for editing and peer review.

We live in a high-rise with a great view and last week they decided to ban all dog owners from the lobby in order to attract new residents. That didn’t sit well with me and I researched ADA and Federal civil rights statutes and also looked into housing laws and since we pay a lot to live here thought of rent abatements for lack of services such as mail. I didn’t say a word, may have written one or two. Our Zoe is now allowed to go through the lobby any time as are 99% of the rest of us, responsible dog owners.

All they needed to do was weed out the bad seeds one by one, not punish us en masse. Dad would love me for being a fighter and a lover of people and abused and abandoned animals. I miss him and buy him flowers every week with a card that says “Miss you, Dad.” He knows he raised a good girl. Salt of the earth.

I came across a huge long postcard of where we used to stay in Florence, also just ordered a postcard of San Lorenzo, patron saint of cooks and kitchens. I’m cooking for me this week, husband away so I can actually eat fish. Unfortunately our old dog may meet her fate at my hands (via our vet, of course). Ciao, Dee