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They visited this blog the other day and it was welcome. My grandmother and her kin all came from Zurich, a city I had the pleasure to visit in my 20’s.  We ate good food and I tried real fondue, not the 1970’s American version.

In my legislative life I’ve had a passion for privacy, whether it be insurance, health, banking, cable television franchising (this was 1984, in more ways than one) and other areas so I arranged a group of us analysts to put up a session where all our bills were put up at the same time. It worked. Of course the Senate voted against it. We expected that.

Switzerland was neutral in WWII and while others may call it secrecy I call it privacy as long as ill-gotten gains are not involved. Why did the Beatles move to the USA? Less taxes.

Often, Switzerland is used as a metaphor for a go-between. While my husband calls me emotional, and he is correct, I am rational and can reason between positions in an intellectual way. Of course he’s a scientist and engineer and we have different mind-sets that some of the time, work together.

We’ll be married 15 years this month. A lot of small things I did over the years multiplied into grand gestures by many, to make a difference. Retired? Too arthritic to exercise multiple dogs. Husband allergic to cats. Occasionally we take in a dog for an hour or a week or two that gets along with our old Zoe.

I cannot be neutral when countless animals were being killed by their owners and local shelters, just as I cannot be so when anything that deals with privacy comes back to abortion so no evangelist or Catholic can vote for it. Think 1973 Roe v. Wade. Of course I quit after licking my wounds and having a change of administration and moved on to more lucrative pastures. That was disastrous so I left that for a dream.

Back then there were few computers and we had none. No-one was allowed to reserve a bill number for the next Session. I was, because I’d always been nice to said office with food. Orwell’s 1984. That next year was the year the P-Team was built. Me as creator and pseudo-leader, my boss, and a great staff lawyer. We were not Switzerland. We were the USA in the Revolutionary War. Let’s make this country safe from corporations and individuals that want to steal our identities. They have it anyway and so did NSA and everyone else.

Was our Privacy Team a failure? No, it was a start. I also helped spay/neuter 2,500 feral cats and my training session for volunteers was filmed by the infamous San Francisco SPCA. I also helped hundreds of Greyhounds off racetracks come back to health and be adopted. I came up with theme names for them for singers, poets, race car drivers, presidents, scientists because they only had one name on the track. Before they were adopted, they had a temporary name.

As to privacy there was 9/11 and now everyone spies on us. This is not code for anything, kiddo’s. It is a real person that actually shares stories and recipes. Dee

They would have been a good idea in 7 degree weather with nine mph winds, after the dog slept in then “hounded” me to take her out.

I got everything in a hurry, electric jacket on and really on, lamb cossack hat, scarf, gloves and boots.

What did I forget? Pants. Yes I did go out in underwear. Long silk underwear that are part of my pajamas in winter. I wondered why my legs were cold.

In this cold weather I don’t trust dog Zoe’s routine of going out early, quickly and then eating her dinner and taking another two-hour nap. If I take this long to dress and she’s already wearing her own fur coat, I’ll take her out as long as she needs, early morning, to do everything. I can put her collar over her neck in a heartbeat and grab house keys, it takes me longer to get ready.

I didn’t grow up in a world of PolarTec, down or fur, just wool and hand-knitted balaclavas and mittens (thanks, Aunt L). Now my husband and I take every technological advantage against the cold that we can get. Even dog Zoe has a coat. It works every season, to keep rain off or keep her a bit warmer, especially in severe cold and wind. She will not wear booties to keep her from the salt that lines sidewalks and roads so our town never needs to plow snow. Instead she licks her paws, we pick her up and sometimes it’s enough that she has to vomit. There’s a reason ranchers limit the salt lick for cattle.

Remember the pants. We could have had a longer walk this morning, but once she finished her business, she just wanted to come home, eat and sleep. One has to love an old dog when all her mental functions are known by me, often in advance. My husband says “she just needs her toy.” No, dear. She needs a walk and I’m making us dinner, as she already ate. That’s the way it goes in love, marriage, cold and dogs. Cheers! Dee

After an argument over the dot-bomb era, when my husband’s bosses actually left a white board after a meeting that said “Fire Staff” came to pass, everything changed.

We were semi-engaged as he’d met my parents. We flew to his home town to introduce me to his parents. Then he immersed me into a pot of stew of 60 family members and friends and didn’t check on me for 12 hours.

We eloped a few weeks later. I didn’t want a small wedding with a now-divorced father and his gal in the same room, especially with my mother present.

When we registered we found out that we could hire a Deputy Marriage Commissioner for a day. We paid for it and sought out Park friends, a Navy Captain and his wife, who we will call The Admiral, not through the ranks, above them as all know to be true.

We arranged an appointment with the Captain and said we wanted to elope four days ahead and will he marry us. He took a moment to think, and said yes, if he could write the vows. I said OK, I’ll type them up for you.

He’s been gone six years now and his wife died last month, she was also an honored guest in our party of eight and signed the papers.

Don’t worry, I made sure that the Captain only had the rights to marry us, not random strangers on the streets!

I would like to renew our vows and my husband is hesitant, defiant actually, not to do so. Thinking that the loss of two important people in our lives and the potential for allowing existing family to participate is very important to me. I was a daughter for the first time in my life. We kept in touch for over 20 years. All heaven hail J&J. Dee

My husband’s old holiday ornament is Santa in a kilt with bagpipes. Mine is the thistle, national flower of Scotland. That was an interesting job post.

My husband is part Scot, he blends in with skin tone et al but is a head taller than everyone else, which allowed me to find him when crowds split us apart. I’m part Irish, more than great-great aunt Mary would ever know from my demeanor. Also Brit, my grandfather. See, one family can put the isles together in three generations, and help with the Swiss, Poles and Germans before WWII. Peace. Done. I’m not dealing with the Middle East.

When we returned home to the States I missed something other than the persistent Catholic/Protestant rivalries and SWAT Teams over soccer games. My husband never awakened because of bottles being thrown in the trash at 3 a.m. from the pub next door. I never missed that glass breaking back home. I missed random bagpipes on the streets.

After college I had a place on the only two-way street in town, the only one that allowed 18-wheelers. They’d go down and back up the gears and make tons of noise that in a few weeks was a lullaby for me, not for guests! Hey, I had mice in my walls as a kid and they put me to sleep. I bought a sofa in my new cool place for my aunts to visit and they didn’t sleep a wink all night because of the trucks. I slept so I could empty boxes and assemble my new bookcase the the entire night before and fill it with books. I did it wrong the first time, Allen wrenches. My bete noir. I learned how to use them because I needed to keep a set in my new car a few years later.

When we arrived home I’d wait for the bagpipes in the morning and they never came ’round. I’d love nothing more than a brief marriage renewal ceremony and small event for family for our 15th wedding anniversary. If I ever get to do it, it’ll be informal, but I’ll need bagpipes. Chi mi a-rithist thu (I’ll see you again). Dee

We bought a house that needed serious finishing in the mid- 1960’s and it had an “open concept” plan for the living area. All these years later all the renovation shows that the former demonstrate open concept.

Before the 50’s all kitchens were small and window-less so that the maid/cook was in there preparing your dinner and serving it to you and your family at your dining table then doing all the dishes. It took our forerunners to create an “open concept” that should no longer be a new variety of kitchen.

I’ve seen Texas kitchens that make the cooks work three times hard to get a family meal done. They are huge and have no functionality. On the flip side, I prefer a galley kitchen, but one with storage space, as in a butler’s pantry with louvered doors that keeps the dog out. I recently had a “new” refrigerator’s doors changed because I’ve arthritis and do not want to walk out to a hallway to open the frig.  Talk about open concept.

The ultimate kitchen is in store. I’m designing it to accommodate my husband and guests.

Over the past fifty years we have opened our kitchen/dining/living areas to accommodate family and friends, and to allow the cook to interact with her (it’s always a her) guests.

Wealthy folks have a perfectly designed kitchen for show, and perhaps a small one in the back for a maid/cook. Few people who live where I do, cook. Frozen and take-out and delivery, even boxes to “cook” by themselves go by me every day.  The only experience is getting eggs, milk, bacon, apple juice, orange juice once a week, delivered at 3 a.m. I also ordered a surprise box of seasonal things to challenge myself at cooking. It was a blank box that allowed me to strive to use zucchini or butternut squash or carrots or easy things like tomatoes and fruit to achieve something special and new.

I am Dee, and I am a cook. I don’t mind a kitchen with guests standing by to help as needed. That’s what the bar seats are for. I never walk into one’s kitchen without offering assistance. Setting the table, OK.

One thing the “open concept” plan did not address was usefulness. If a host/hostess does not use it, then it is only there to show that you have money for quartz countertops and a luxury refrigerator with only mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup and soy sauce packages from the delivery place down the street. And champagne, of course.

My appliances are for use, not decoration. For over 30 years I’ve had a 5 qt. KitchenAid mixer and it is still in use, especially for pancakes and trifle. I’ve a KA food processor and blender. an electric kettle for tea, a toaster and salt and pepper. I choose by what we need most, not what I wish to show off. I always keep a crock of the most used kitchen implements, spatulas, spoons, “flippers” so I can grab them from the stove. That’s it.

I’ll stick with a galley kitchen in a new format, that allows guests to be part of the action and not just asking me across the counter for another Dr. Pepper. ‘Tis a new year. Dee

We actually stayed up until midnight. I was in the kitchen finishing putting hand wash away and emptying the dishwasher and my husband was in bed watching festivities. He lifted our old dog from the sofa and carried her to the bed, where she kept snoring.

In about 1/2 hour, four a.m. I’m going to start some turkey chili that we’ll have for dinner and also give to a friend. I did my mise en place last night so I wouldn’t awaken anyone.

So, there are bills to pay, papers to file, corporate stuff to get a hold of as well as arrangements for me to make things happen when my husband is out of town. Not just taking the dog to bed. I make her walk herself then lift her up to the bed, she does have no hips. It’s a new year, honeybun.

My Aunt got me a tripod walker for Christmas. I took a spill on the sidewalk a couple of months ago and she wanted me to have something with brakes so I can safely shop for groceries. Yes, it contains a small bag but I’d like to add an interior mesh bag for wallet, cell phone and keys, and an exterior one out front for flowers and light groceries. It’s amazing what one has to think about. The back wheels allow my feet to roam free but are so wide as to hit the side of a grocery aisle while turning into the next aisle. It takes some getting used to.

Problem is, it is so dang cold here (well below 32 degrees) that the brakes freeze and I can’t brake to a stop while practicing. Husband sees me using my car this time of year and the cart in Spring, whenever that comes. I’d just as soon practice now and use it when needed, in a year or three when the knees and ankles act up.

I’m thinking of taking most of the holiday decorations down today. My old neighbors’ Christmas cactus is now flowering so I’ll leave that, and the poinsettia that is declining by the day. Over the weekend we picked up a new set of tree lights to fill a living evergreen, our holiday tree, that must remain indoors, given by the women in my husband’s family in honor of my Dad’s passing a year ago. The left side was a bit sad.

Over the weekend I made construction paper chains with colors from our living room. His mother made a modern quilt in the 70’s and we finally made the squares into a seasonal quilt that anchors the room. I used a few of those colors.

We plan to keep and embellish the white tree lights, I’ll pack up the ornaments for next year, and we’ll keep it festive with mainly light blue and brown. It is a living tree and I cannot give it to anyone here to plant outdoors because of the weather. Perhaps when it gets too large for our living room, we can drive it to his parents in Texas and they can plant it at their new home.

Today is a day to look forward. Everyone wants to sell our new business something, perhaps today there will not be any robo-calls. That would be a blessing. Cheers and may you and your family enjoy a happy new year. Dee

As we look toward a new year, a dear friend has passed. Her husband married us nearly 15 years ago and she was a witness on the marriage certificate.

She died earlier this month. I wish I could have traveled there when she was alive. After her husband died, there was an interment at Annapolis, yes he was a Navy man. She told me they got a space in the Columbarium. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. She told me she wanted to join him and that she will, in time.

He asked her out twice and she demurred. He said third time is the last. They married five weeks later, were married for over 50 years and had three sons and many grandkids. Now great-grands.

After we met, she asked me to call her “Mom.” She had three impressive sons and probably always wanted a daughter, too. She said I was it. At Annapolis my husband and I pulled up in the land yacht we rented. She was telling one of the organizers that I would not be there and I showed up and we hugged.

She made me stuff, was a milliner but we placed some of my dog’s ashes into a teddy bear my dog brought to our park for the first time ever. She always had balls to fetch. This was her farewell as she died suddenly the next day.  “Mom” asked for things from me. I always keep a photo collage she made for me, and a large teddy bear with my dog’s ashes in it. We put ashes into a pocket over the bear’s heart and she sewed on a beautiful heart with lace and ribbon to remember our dear girl.

That is how I think of her, as a big heart with ribbons and lace and seeing her dear husband once again. In memory, Dee

I was never much for them as a young child, didn’t understand the process under age five. I started with sweet gherkins, moved to bread and butter, all the way to Kosher dills with a pastrami sandwich on rye with deli mustard.

Then I learned the strangest thing. Texans deep fry pickles, yes, my husband had me try one in a movie theater there. One of his favorite home dishes is my version of my grandmother’s pickled cucumber. I use a European (seedless) cuke and marinate it at least 1/2 hour or overnight in apple cider vinegar, sugar, salt and pepper. It’s nice sliced, but elegant for a luncheon when it is shaved into thin ribbons with a peeler, perhaps mixed with beets at the last moment (so the entire dish doesn’t end up red from the beets).

What I wanted to write about at the cusp of the New Year is Pickles and Chips. My mother sent me to an English riding teacher as a kid. When we moved to the country she hired a high school gal, Debbie, to teach me Western riding. No-one where we lived rode with an English saddle. Pickles was an ornery Shetland pony. Chips was a beautiful quarter horse.

I finally learned that when Pickles put his ears back, I was in for a ride. He threw me across the creek one time. When Debbie said leave me and Chips, go left in a walk, right, then canter diagonally and meet me back here, I tried. A test of sorts.

Forget the canter. He laid his ears back and galloped, stopping full bore right by the homemade sand box (a large one framed by railroad ties) and I tumbled over his head and fell into the sand. He ran 1/4 mile home, where Debbie’s parents were having a dinner party.

I was shaken, but fine. Only my pride was hurt as the entire dinner party toting Pickles walked up our long driveway to see who he threw (they knew he would) and if I was OK.

Many years later I have petted my young cousin’s gorgeous female Percheron, a majestic creature. I’ve not been on a horse or pony since age nine and would like to do so. My husband is allergic so he can’t go with me. Perhaps his brother or our cousin, Zoe’s vet, will do so before I am too old to participate.

Here’s to all kinds of pickles, and to Chips! Dee

First thank Canada for checking in as I forgot to contact my older cousin on Boxing Day for his birthday. Happy birthday!

From crying to crawling to walking I always wanted a motorized vehicle. Yes, a tricycle my feet could pedal. Then, there was a kiddie bike from Santa with training wheels. Then just wheels. No, there was not a need for performance enhancing drugs to win a contest. Vehicles have always been from point A to B for me. The bike just let me visit all the friends and animals at my 1/4 mile-away neighbors quickly. I was not allowed on the highway. Years after that there were real wheels, a drivers’ license.

I was mis-diagnosed for rheumatoid arthritis for over 20 years. It is now thirty years. I won’t take anything for it except a few OTC NSAIDS per year. Yes, while I’m up at night I see commercials recommending all these drugs, and they say a side-effect may be death. Actor/comedian Jay Mohr (thanks Jay) says that death is not a side-effect!

When I took a spill on the pavement two months ago it has been hard to heal, with severe knee bruises and facial problems from the fall. There is no insurance when it comes to health issues even though we pay through the nose for it every month and now health care is going to get worse under the current administration.

My dear aunts have given me a sleek tripod walker with which to get groceries. It has brakes and once I learn how to use it and open doors or go up and down escalators and heaven forbid, negotiate the awful sidewalks, I’ll be OK.

Baby, crawling, walking, tricycle, training then bike, car, cane, tripod walker. After it came in I brought it down to see staff and Maintenance was there, making fun of me as usual. All I said was that I feel old. After all these years I may go back to a tricycle and beyond. There is too little time and too much to do.

The head guy reminds me of my father and what he used to do to any guy who tried to date me, except my husband. Gruff exterior, marshmallow interior. He whispered to me that the tripod was a great idea because after years of knowing me, I’ve FUBAR’d more than once. He likes me!

Yes, a few years ago the County never did anything before ice formed on their sidewalks so 8″ of ice built up. Maternal instinct kicked in at our 7 a.m. walk and Zoe (our dog) started to fall with all four legs. I lifted her up by the leash so she wouldn’t be harmed. I fell, instead. That was a lengthy large hip bruise recovery.

Second in command really made fun of me, saying he could connect a motor to the contraption. I replied that I wanted a seat. Haha. They have saved our lives in the past due to a gas leak and mostly make fun of me because I’ve been here so long and rarely make maintenance requests. I tell them I bundle them and use them once for small items like a slow drain, yet still bring them food. Until we lose her Zoe is the mascot and I’m “Aunt Dee.”

Cheers and have a happy new year. Dee

Yes, I’ve my own. We’re both consultants, I’m too young but am retired. My husband has his priorities. Sometimes they are not in sync. Picture that he has a weekend off and spends a bit of time walking our dog but spends all the time on his cell phone reading news or emails. Most likely he spends all day puttering around on his laptop or iPhone and  a few hours after breakfast I bring him a sandwich and veg for lunch.

I ask what he’d like for dinner and I go out and get it, do mise en place and cook in advance like stews or make and rise dough. Then we agree on a time to have dinner and as I must have my back to him after prep, attentions must be elsewhere. Two burners sauteeing, a horrible kitchen fan running, something in the oven that needs to be checked and a salad to put together, he starts opining on a technical matter that is of interest to him. I’ve the fan going and and am taking out the cold food from the frig, and am constantly running the kitchen sink to wash my hands or rinse a dish.

We agreed on priorities so I left him a day to be alone with his thoughts and mostly laptop and iPhone. Twenty minutes before dinner hits the plates he starts talking about his technological concerns, methods, writing. I can’t hear a word he’s saying and tell him so. I serve dinner and he shuts down and turns on the television, and gets needed rest.

If it’s a long trip home for a him after work for a weekend I just want to let him sleep, but to do that would mean prying his electronic devices from his cold, dead hands. He always wants to research something and I always want to cook or write, and we can relax together, on opposite sides of the sofa watching Episode IV of Star Wars: A New Hope. He taught me about that one, both versions.

While I’ve had bosses and clients who told me what they wanted done, I usually, after college, got to decide how I was to accomplish these deeds. The first was getting away from home all the way back to my college town. I got an eight-week temp job correcting applications for a minimal college scholarship. The applications, not the tests. We got a bit more than minimum wage but were watched and extremely regimented. There were kids with apps who could not spell their own name or street address, but we had to correct their application for a college scholarship.

I learned a lot about poverty and its effects on a child’s education that year. I was given apps from my school of about 1,500 to fix and there were only two mistakes. Inner city schools it was at least 70% of students who failed the application. Why? Parents or lack thereof, and/or teachers and curricula. The same government educational system that gave me one of those scholarships for $800 if you went to college.

We had to use pencils and were issued one per day. Hours were severely regimented, we may have even been locked into the room between breaks. I broke my pencil one day and went to ask Assistant Ned, as the “boss” of that minuscule portion of the clerical staff was out of the office, could I please borrow a pencil?

Ned had a large coffee mug with perfectly shaved pencils, arranged, tip-up as if a floral bouquet. He said “No.” I now knew he had a love of pencils so asked to see one he was already using. It had “Ned” etched into it I I complimented him on his enthusiasm for the job. These people were nuts! My goal after college was to never be Ned.

A week in I got a great interview to work for the legislature and asked if I could take only 15 minutes for lunch and 1/2 hour for afternoon break because I had a Dr.’s appointment. NO. I left for my break, came back an hour later and quit. I did not have a decision or offer, or now a job, and waited ’til Thursday for the A-OK and took the job that started two business days later. It changed my life. Today my husband still asks me, “can you pass me a nedcil?” He is a physicist and software engineer/consultant. I never had or wanted to lead a Ned life, it was just a month paying rent.

The worst is yet to come. After years as a legislative analyist, a dream job came up out of the blue. Twice the pay, my own office in mid-town Manhattan. But I sold my soul to the devil and what was promised was not delivered to me, no matter how hard I worked. It was a bait & switch.

One day I was called in to my devil, who said I had “99” things on my desk to do so we need to prioritize them. She went through 27 things on my entire list, actually only about 8 because she was bored, then she told me that every one was of equal importance and had to be done immediately. It was a class system where of course the rich people were first, everyone else last.  At the end of the meeting she said get back to work, and everything is first priority! How is that for being an educated person in the workplace? I quit soon thereafter and spent my life savings to go to a professional cooking school.  Then a consultant. And the beat goes on….. Dee