Category Archives: Uncategorized

Two issues, both “a guy thing.” Now my husband’s not a football-watching, beer drinking kind of guy. He prefers the History Channel and Nazis.

What do I make for the maintenance guys? No hesitation, trifle. My trifle will come in it’s own specialty bowl with pannetone, fresh whipped cream with lemon zest and juice, and a horde of fresh raspberries and blackberries.

As of late yesterday, he has a former colleague coming into town for a conference, and is invited to dinner tonight. Luckily I filled in flowers yesterday but there are some things to be cleaned up.

I thought, he’s Indian, What can’t he get that is good in most restaurants? True Texas Chili. From choosing and grinding the meat with my KitchenAid stand mixer to molding the spices to my liking, my version of Lady Bird Johnson’s 1962 Pedernales Chili comes to life. They served 5,000 at their ranch outside Austin, including JFK. You can download the original recipe at the LBJ Library site, it was the most requested document at the White House until our President was slain.

There are no beans in Texas chili. I’ll serve it with boxed cornbread jeujed up with frozen corn, half-and-half instead of milk, a bit of cooked sausage and some good cheddar cheese. Salad on the side with romaine hearts and a bit of cavolo nero (black kale, dinosaur kale) for my Italian side. No, I’m not Italian, just think and try to live it. They work to live, and not live to work.

Well, if he’s Indian, I may be able to serve him British mincemeat tarts for dessert. No. I’ll do a parfait with non-fat vanilla yogurt, berries and granola on top.

Decisions made. Dog was taken out and fed before seven. The clock is ticking. Tick tock. Let’s start with the whipped cream for the trifle, wash the bowl and then grind the meat.

A man, a plan, a canal, Panama. I love palindromes. Still working on Christmas menu and believe that scalloped potatoes are loved and rarely eaten here so I will make them. I now know a Roman emperor Claudius and his grandma Livia, “amore Roma.” Dee

The reindeer ornament with a tray of cookies flew off the tree, again. She’s lost her head twice and now has no legs but my husband will not allow me to bury her. He glued her head on yesterday and as she was carrying a tray of cookies, wants to keep the cook in me to a certain extent. I’ll look for the legs.

I think she flew because she wanted to be on Santa’s Team and they’ve never allowed a woman to be a part of that team. She kept trying to no avail. She is not a weather maven for the skies and sleigh but has other talents.

This reindeer cannot do field work, but the magnetic bracelets on my wrists allow me to type, my brain allows me to think, and as long as I’m at my desk with my feet up I’m good to go.

My husband made me give up my physically demanding volunteer work, then my consulting business to travel the world with him. Cooking, flower arranging are hobbies. Taking care of husband and dog are my job. Paying bills, doing taxes and sometimes even cooking are chores, though I did spend time planning a Christmas menu. Cheers! Dee

First off, thank you Germany, for reading. My father’s family was from Germany and I visited years ago but we were supposed to go on a cruise for his 85th birthday that was curtailed last year because of his illness and death soon thereafter.

My husband’s secrets are in his brain. It is up to me to find them out. We are both in the same business, consulting, but in vastly different areas of expertise. As he has entered different areas and is gone much of the time I am retired, to be with him the past 15 years of marriage.

He’s been writing a book for the past few months and likes taking a break to accompany me to the grocery store. I know his secrets because over the years I know what he craves, and it changes all the time. It started out with lemonade, then yogurt, ice cream, now strange fruits and veg. When I lose him in the produce department I can find him by the pummelos, heirloom carrots or apples. For a year or so he was a fan of my homemade trail mix with dried fruits and nuts that I packed in snack bags to keep in his desk when he was hungry late-afternoon at work. He had fun with that one, the aisle of fruits and nuts and granola.

For thirteen years I packed a duffel bag for him for a weekend getaway. He’d ask me to go somewhere and I’d pack us both in 12 minutes and we’d go. Now he has new bags and a “system” and I don’t touch anything except if he asks me to do so or if I must move it out of the way, like to get into my dresser.

When we met we were extreme opposites. There was no way those phone numbers shared in the parking lot after a post-9-11 TGI Friday lunch were ever going to be used to perhaps see a movie as friends one day. I threw his number in the trash and fed the dog and cats. He saved my number, called me the next day and we saw a movie and had a Mexican meal. He opened my car door, took my hand and hasn’t let go ever since. When they still used paper maps, he used his homemade dual-brained computer to find my address about a mile away.

Today, I still have a slip in that paper map of my address from over 16 years ago. It was in the door pocket of our car. I have it now and it must be framed for our anniversary.

Like his father and brother, he has a gruff exterior but if one is brave enough to crack the shell, there’s a nice guy within. Not a marshmallow, but a good person that can be trusted and can recently be found in the produce aisle. Yes, he does help old ladies cross the street, I know because I’ve arthritis and am one. Cheers! Dee

Last weekend I learned to twist flowers for arrangements, by an expert. There were twelve of us in the class and all she would say while she helped others was “Dee, yours looks beautiful.”

The next day they were closed. The spray roses had died so I had to find an alternative to my trusty florist. I substitued red carnations for a holiday feel, and gold balls on wire. I thought I did it without thinking.

Witness our holiday tree. This morning I looked at it and realized it has morphed. One year ago I returned to my home to find a number of floral arrangements and a sort of evergreen tree that needs to grow indoors in this weather. It was the day after my father’s funeral and the women of my husband’s family decided to give me a living memory of Dad. It was topped with a silver star with his name and dates of birth and death.

This year I decided it would be our tree, and started at the top of Dad’s tree with the star. I added family ornaments and hand-made aluminum drops, then a topper of silver bows from former flower arrangements that calls attention to the silver star. The dripping tin twisted strips rain down on what Dad created. Several families. Ours sits in the middle in hand-made finger puppets. Husband is a cow, I’m a horse, don’t know why as the last time I rode one I was thrown. Our dog Zoe is the dog and she’s leaning on me.

The tree includes paper ornaments for an intensive development project I created over 20 years ago. Kids decorated round tag-board ornaments and I saved a few. The tree shows that from his efforts in life, we were allowed to have lives, enjoy our lives.

Dad made things possible, not always attainable, but possible. Our living tree is an homage to my father, and the dripping tin strips from a trip to Vermont with my in-laws show how he has affected all our lives. I know the ornaments I chose, and chose the family tradition of one ornament each, every year. Subliminally, I chose a vignette of my life and the impact my father had on this life. He allowed me courage, even to get married and he never gave the “stare” above the bi-focals to my husband of nearly 15 years. He was the first “boyfriend” he ever liked.

Heaven forbid I become a floral arranger for anyone else. I’d have to go back to my soc/psy education. No, don’t tell me he’s saying this now. I already have a broken reindeer ornament carrying a tray with cookies, now with no legs or hat that my husband has already glued together once. I think Dad wants me to place more energy into business rather than cooking. We will have a burial ceremony for the reindeer ornament (is parchment paper and trash OK?) today. Perhaps her jumping off the tree means we should not return to the state which she represents in our hearts. I’ll have to figure that one out. Cheers! Dee

ps Pedernales Chili tonight. Lady Bird Johnson, 1962. Five thousand guests including JFK. Most requested document from the White House that year until the assassination. Check out the LBJ Library website. And yes, Texas chili has no beans. Dee

Chicken Saltimbocca, half chicken breast (boneless and skin-less) pounded and seasoned with s@p and sage, with one piece of proscuitto atop of the inside and a bit of grated Fontina val D’Aosta would be wonderful. Roll it up for both to fit a pan. Melt butter, roll it in the butter then seasoned (salt, pepper, sage) Panko crumbs seam-side down considering the number and the pan size and place in a 350 degree oven for about 30-40 minutes when the cheese starts seeping out just a bit. That is the eve, only.

These are difficult holiday meals because they are a deux. Perhaps pair it with little broccoli florets with chili flakes and parmesan, and a few sauteed cherry tomatoes. Just my thoughts for the moment. OK, a little Israeli couscous in chicken broth with cilantro with just vegetables.

Eve might start with my always different nut dish to be placed on the kitchen table for all, but usually the ladies who chat at a huge Thanksgiving feast I think I can keep freezing them, as my in-laws freshly harvest pecans that they crack and pick like a well-oiled machine. We need to save the last quart for guests.

I felt bad for being too ill to attend Thanksgiving this year as there are a number of families and guests involved. I looked towards Christmas and my mother’s going back in her mind to England creating her first dinner of prime rib, Yorkshire pudding, roasted potatoes and it was wonderful. Mom made the gravy, she and my sisters made the desserts including mincemeat tarts. I made the sides. I can’t tell you because it changed every year. Root vegetable puree, you name it. My grandmother’s spinach, braised carrots. I don’t think I ever did beets for that because they may have stained everything else making it into red food.

* * *

This year I’m thinking, for a relaxing evening with just the two of us humans, plus the dog of course:

One Cheautaubriand. He’ll take the NY Strip and the tenderloin and I’ll take another tenderloin just for me. It would be his birthday present as we don’t give holiday gifts so it is not his birthday, just a meal. I’d make a jus of more bones.

I’m thinking mini-potato-leek latkes. He hates spinach, so I am considering arugula with garlic. He likes arugula but hates spinach, go figure. That would be something sauteed for veggies or another that that is better for him in a salad with basil, cherry tomatoes. Or little ramekins of a corn, tomato and chorizo pudding or even one made with Brussels sprouts and cauliflower. That’s a good gift to not remember next year!

There should not be too much bread or fat in the menu. Plants are indoors, the tomatoes are gone and there are a few tiny leaves on the basil, thyme and rosemary. It does not sound as if Yorkshire pudding is on the menu that day, but before or after I can put my popover pans to use and I think that will become a favorite for special occasions with guests.

Simple, easy, hopefully rewarding in our lives, as is our old dog Zoe. Parfaits with non-fat vanilla yogurt and berries and a bit of granola on top; perhaps a berry trifle with panettone or mincemeat tarts for dessert. Zoe will get her regular dinner of frozen raw, and dry-frozen quality food, probably with a few treats from the pantry (shh, don’t say the t-word….)

That’s all that’s going on right now. Happy holidays from our family to yours. Dee

Husband is on his side of the bed with the view. Dog took over my side. They’re both snoring. They are in a happy state, of course Zoe chases rabbits in her sleep. Luckily he doesn’t chase women!

I wish I could sleep so well. Both of them snore all night, and that keeps me up. Someone could light a stick of dynamite (I would not know how to do that, it’s a reference from old Wile E Coyote cartoons} and they wouldn’t awaken. Hurricane Ike, a Cat 5 hit us in Houston and they slept through the entire thing. Nine hours. They weren’t afraid.

After a while I wasn’t afraid anymore (should have been) but as I watched the palm trees sway to unbelievable bend-ability I saw Bayou rise 20 feet. It was just a drag to try to get food or clean water to drink, or gasoline for the car for weeks for some folks. We had to find a way to get to see my mother across the land in hospice. In the end every one of our neighbors had damage. Except us. Many of the glass windows in the corporate towers 1/4 mile away shattered.

Early the morning after, my husband sucked the garage flood out of a garden hose he found, while a fellow neighbor cleaned out the street’s storm drain for a place for said water to go. His wife and I went door-to-door on the first floor to make sure everyone was OK. We couldn’t get them anything at the grocery because there was nothing. FEMA would have received good reactions if their actions were not disorganized in an appalling way, however they were also a sad effort, disrespectful, denigrating to all, but especially the poor.

FEMA had cars lined up for food and water for three hours using gas the car owners could not replace, and were telling the poor in the neighborhood who had no cars that they could not walk up and get their two gallons of water and rations. The reason is that the neighbors may come back and try to steal another ration from us. Us is the USA and no-one ever made a film or wrote about Ike, when the Mayor made us stay in place.

During Ike, staying in bed was not the answer to being frightened of the winds and horrific rain. I got up by the windows and blogged it until we lost power, water. Every place was damaged except ours. Maintenance and management didn’t arrive for days. It was up to us. Making myself useful gives me energy and peace.

I know why they husband and dog slept through it, my watching windows blow out downtown 1/4 mile away. They knew we’d each have a job to do, and I love watching them sleep. As I said, ours was the only place that was un-damaged. Somebody was looking out for us.

Peace was my creating a space for volunteers who wanted to help save animals. Most other leaders had two teams and two projects a month. I created 14 projects per month with willing volunteers and tough projects. One was three-hour Sunday shifts caring for Greyhounds right off the racetrack. They ate horrible food on the track, being in crates all day, and were malnourished. After rescue, docs spayed and neutered them and checked for health abnormalities. We released them in order of gender in separate play areas, took them back, in, they were used to crates, fed them, administered their medications then said good night and went out to bleach and clean the play areas.

I started coming up with themed names for them because no-one had a name. Music, presidents, philosophy, literature, prime numbers, First Ladies, Civil Rights pioneers, famous rabbit, cat and squirrel names? They would never keep that name with the home to which they were adopted but there were about eight of each gender coming in each week and I wanted them to have a temporary name to make the transition.

Another project was even more difficult. Spaying and neutering feral (wild) felines. No, I’m not a veterinarian. Somehow the “client” asked me to conduct training then supervision for cage cleaning, transport and breathing and as liaison to “ER.” That was a van run by my team leader, she was great. Plus tarps and setting up traps so they could awaken from anesthesia and be left with their caretaker (the right ear was tipped so the caretaker would know who’d already been done). It was a sweaty, minimum 6-8 hour venture. They provided the cats shots as well, flea medication and grooming. These were smart cats. There was no way they’d enter a trap again, even with mackarel!

The attention to detail of this small volunteer organization was amazing, the training manuals were incredible and when I had a thought to better the wake-up procedures, they copied a page off my printer and everyone received a copy. We were always in a hot part of town so I’d go trolling the mall (we were always in a back parking lot in heat, wind or rain) and get a Diet Coke and they’d ask what we were doing out back. I told them and inevitably they came out, the entire staff, with sodas, water, donuts or whatever they had to donate.

When I arrived home I was exhausted and needed to shower and change. Knowing that I made a difference for what used to be about 300 cats each month, now more as we moved, and our volunteers, that and the Greyhounds were two of my most challenging volunteer projects. That I got through the projects every week (dogs) or month (cats) was a testimony that I could get hot and sweaty, do the work well and achieve peace.

Be brave, in life, work and volunteerism. Find something you like and read books to kids in the local library. There are volunteer organizations all over. Or if you grew up on a farm, that’s your after-school volunteer work. Cheers and happy holidays to you, family and friends. Be at peace with yourself. Dee

A neighbor’s dog is called Lovey. The only dog she likes is our Zoe. Zoe loves everyone, from people who, let me re-phrase that. She likes most people, not criminals or people intent to rob us or anyone else. She has a bias towards “amblers,” including homeless people and tourists taking photos five feet from her door. She would never bite even a toddler taking food from her bowl but she can bark once or twice to let me know there is an issue I have to deal with.

She loves other dogs, except aggressive ones who try to bite her but she always gives them a chance, as do I, before judgment. I do that with people as well as dogs, having worked in shelters for years.

Lovey is also a herder, Zoe’s family tree although our Zoe is a mutt. I think they recognize each other as similar breeds. While scientists say dogs can’t see color our Zoe does and greets similarly colored dogs, whatever breed, as cousins. She also loves Huskies, especially huge ones that just love her and wish to be around her.

Don’t worry, every pet is spayed/neutered around here, part of the reason I chose to live in this neighborhood for a while.

Zoe has always liked cats as well, those who do not run from her. Lovey has her issues and is a really sweet and well-trained dog. Perhaps we should have her over after the holidays for a play date. No other dogs allowed, certainly no cats! Dee

ps What would she do if something happened to us on a walk, if she or I was attacked? There’s a trail below we’ve not gone to alone since there were two sexual assaults mid-afternoon one day, a while ago. She’s old and is not Lassie rescuing Timmy from the well. I just won’t go there any more lest either of us be molested. Dee

To me it is about change and memories of days past. I was sleeping while Santa was in the basement putting together my pink metal kiddo kitchen and my sister’s bicycle.

As to change, my husband and I do not “do” Christmas, except for a lovely dinner I’ve yet to plan. Change. Maybe back to my mother’s prime rib (never made it) and Yorkshire pudding and mincemeat tarts, perhaps not. But I did go out and buy mincemeat filling.

We took a tree given in my father’s memory and made it a Christmas tree. My husband strung popcorn and cranberries. I spent $3 on construction paper and made paper chains of red, green and white. Then I hung ornaments from my childhood and from our marriage. That was a change that we may or may not do next year.

I took a floral tying class last weekend and the spray roses died overnight. I improvised with red carnations, not a real carnation gal but they’re sturdy and the arrangement will last a week. I changed a few things and added a bit of bling from former arrangements (yes, I keep this stuff) so if we don’t get each other gifts, with the poinsettia, flower arranging class and construction paper Christmas has cost us under $50.

There is no Santa, no basement, no “some assembly required.” I might make bacon and cheese biscuits for breakfast, but have everything on hand. Eggs? Yes. Last night we drove around the neighborhood to see the lights. Very pretty. We even saw our tiny tree flickering from the street. I keep making changes to it. The silver wire bows I placed atop accentuate the star my husband’s grandmother, mother, and cousins gave last year with the tree to memorialize my father, who they never met.

Talking about change, Dad is buried near a noted criminal and several presidents, probably also criminals!

We will have a quiet dinner. I’m getting the dog’s food delivered today that will take her through to the new year (that’s her holiday gift as Michael will visit) and I may even get my husband a birthday card this year though he forgot my birthday last month, even had me inscribe it into his wedding ring many years ago and still forgot. I asked him what day it was, and he said “Monday.” Yes, dear. Later, he said “it’s your birthday!”

For Christmas we’ve had family, pushed cars out of the snow, and probably the best things my parents concocted, with Santa, were a family gift and minor personal ones like a sweater or socks. Also we kids had to choose a stocking from a hat and fill it for under $20, I always went over the limit, after all I was the eldest. Family gifts included basement items like a ping pong table and air hockey.

Ornaments. We each got a theme, every year, to hang on the tree, with our initials and the year on the back. Today I only have a few from the past, but started our wedded future with paired ornaments from wherever we loved, visited or lived. We’re putting the leg back on to my mountain reindeer carrying a tray of cookies. I found the leg yesterday. After our door wreath fell, I’m still missing my husband as a Texas snowman with a lasso and cowboy hat. I’ll work on that. Memories, family and changing traditions when the parents are gone. I preserve the memories in my own way.

As to memories my Claddagh ring fell off my finger as I slept the other night. I looked everywhere for it because my right ring finger was bereft. He found it by my pillow. That is my Christmas gift. Now I have to go and create a menu. Cheers and happy holidays to you and your family! Dee

Two ornaments, same era. Snowman and a reindeer standing up, in an apron, carrying a tray of cookies. That was me, of course.

The wreath fell off our front door, causing damage. I placed it in the guest tub as it was loosing pine needles like crazy and we had bought it two days before Thanksgiving. My husband moved it to the hall and lost needles everywhere. I moved it to the balcony so I could clean up and remove ornaments and bag it to take out.

The snowman lost his head. So did the reindeer. I got glue to put them back together. Then the reindeer lost her right leg, so did my grandfather in the War, and I thought I might follow suit. Heads are on, ornaments on tree, now.

I chanced upon her leg today and my husband will put her back together this week. Just a one-inch white piece with a hoof. My cooking ornaments are sacred to me!

Speaking of sacred. I lost my Claddagh ring. I went to sleep with it on and awakened feeling my right ring finger naked without it. In the morning I’ll have to comb the place to find it. Hopefully I’m not losing too much weight for rings to slip off my fingers! I don’t worry that much about my wedding ring. I broke that finger at age 16, playing basketball in the driveway with my family, after dinner. The knuckle will keep that ring on.

A Claddagh is a ring with hands for friendship, holding a heart for love, topped by a crown for loyalty. Mine was also banded by a Celtic knot, for eternity and love. I’ll find it. Oh, if you get one, if you’re looking for a husband have the crown in and heart out. If you have one already, point the heart into yours to show that you’re taken. Oh, I hope we find it. Luckily our dog is old and not interested in eating sterling silver! Cheers, Dee

a lot like Christmas. The streets I see are mainly clear or mushy. We were supposed to have two hours of snow in the middle of the night but it is now morning and it is starting up again.

Let’s hope the snowfall is not too small or too wet to fail all the kids to bring their plastic sleds and glide down from Mom to Dad at the bottom of the big hill down to the soccer field.

Looking at white roofs and receding snow I remember what that meant to me as a kid. We moved further south and I remember Christmas day being 72 degrees. It was just not the same.

This morning I donned my electric coat, winter boots, lamb Cossack hat, a scarf and wool fingerless gloves (I was walking the dog and have to pick up). The wind has died down a bit, it’s not shrieking all night. It was quite pleasant for our two minutes out there, and my electric coat was on Rudolph strength, bright red and useful.

The wind changes every two minutes here, one never knows how an aviator will land the plane. I’d hate to be Air Traffic Control here! I bet those folks don’t need coffee, just adrenalin. Same with Coast Guard. They are both remarkable.

The tomato cage is out there without a tomato plant. My basil is going. We may actually have a real winter. Ice fishers have not been out here for two years and I love to give one random pair per year pastries, hot chocolate/coffee and a six-pack of local beer for the day. It’s a random fishing hole near where I can get to the ice. Last time they’d just caught a 22″ trout. After the gift, they wouldn’t let me leave because I was good luck.

After 15 minutes, they didn’t get another and I was getting colder. The two men lifted me up to the dock by my arms and made sure I got to my car OK. No, they saved the brew for later! I hope their families enjoyed the trout.

So long, and thanks for all the fish. Dee and The Most Famous Reindeer of All, Rudolph