A Yellow Tomato

We’ve been growing a Sweet 100 tomato plant in the house for a couple of months. Last time was 15 years ago, outdoors, and we had bugs and worms and three tasteless tomatoes all summer.

Finally we have about fifteen, more to come, tomatoes and one turned yellow today. When it turns red and is ripe, I plan to halve it and we will cheer. It suffered for a few weeks even though it was re-planted to a larger container delicately. Now it is growing tomatoes over a cage and watered every day, and we have new flowers that have been pollenated.

Our major coup was to find and adopt our hip-less wonder dog Zoe, and keep her happy and healthy for 13.5 years. She is a light in our lives, and many others, a neighborhood mascot. A sole tomato plant is only the icing on our cake. Zoe is the cake. Don’t ask me what kind of cake because it will determine north and south and the “war of northern aggression.” Let’s call it what Mom used to make for our birthdays. Viennese Chocolate Pecan Torte. I don’t have the recipe and she’s gone nine years. Dee

 

Our Girl

Old dog Zoe is slowing down. It takes her longer to want to go out. She is very healthy, just getting old at nearly 95 in “people years.” A young guy stopped me last evening. He said she was the best dog in the neighborhood and stopped to pet her.

He asked how old she is, 13.5 years, and when we got her, the day she turned six weeks old. They gave us one of those cardboard boxes and she jumped out, I threw the box into the back and she sat on my lap with the window cracked about two inches and she sniffed the breeze and has loved being in a car ever since. It’s called “going with.”

We went through a lot with her, getting her hips removed due to severe dysplasia and growing her own from cartilage and physical therapy (my husband used to sneak her into pools) and I walked her as was advised by her surgeon.

The guy I met asked her breed(s) and where we got her. He said if he could have a dog like Zoe for nearly 14 years he’d get one like her immediately. Yeah, me too, I should lend her out so he can get a girlfriend and get married! They can get a dog. I always said dog before kids, I need to see how bad my husband is with a dog before we have a kid. He’s horribly good, the fun and walk guy. I’m the food wench and disciplinarian. When I leave to run errands, she sits at the door awaiting my return. She is happy to see him return from a week across the country or world.

I think we may do her DNA test and see what other breeds she has in her fascinating, herding, staring at us for what she wants, Kong, personality. It’s nearly six in the morning and she’s UBD (Under Bed Dog) as in summer, the sun comes up early so she goes underneath to get her beauty sleep. At 95, she looks better than me! Heel! Dee

 

The Day: Homage to Many

The day they drove old Enron down and the people were singing

and the jail doors were ringing

and Ken Lay had his life go ding, that was the end of everything…

Oh, yes that was the day they drove old Enron down

My neighbor hanged himself

His Catahoula made it to another life

The surgeon killed Lay, as was asked, he couldn’t come back and and that was that

Skilling leaves a paltry payment for all Enron took. Now there are books about what they took

That was when we took Enron down, for stealing from widows

The day we took Enron down, for stealing jobs and pensions

end la la la

 

# # #

So Bob Dylan, World Poet, how do I end this. Yes, I know you did not write this, the original or certainly this trifle but the original sounds a bit like you.

Maybe mention Arlo on fishing trip, when he said writing music is like fishing. Just don’t set up downstream from Bob Dylan. I agree. At nearly 60 I’m still a beginner guitar player but have a nice instrument and I can’t play Bob Dylan for the life of me. I understand pitch, music but even with my beautiful guitar I’ve short, stubby fingers that cannot make the most of a violin, piano or guitar, and a body and feet that cannot do ballet. I’ve the mind and the sense to do so but not the ability. It is very frustrating as I see music in my head, even in my dreams, and I cannot make it come true. I look up lyrics and make up the chords I wish to use but to me an F is a misnomer because even when a pro friend helped me choose a guitar and had me take down the action I’m still having issues and at my age my voice is going as well as my dexterity.

Best I can do is get my Dad’s violin that has been in a closet for years before he died over the holidays. I would like to recondition it, if it can be done, try to re-learn it if usable, or give it to his alma mater who now has a violin scholarship in his name.

Thanks to all my cool musical folks. Yes, Robbie Robertson wrote it and Joan Baez and Johnny Cash played it. The night they brought Old Dixie down.

Now I’m looking at The City of New Orleans, written by Steve Goodman (rest in peace, 1984) and covered by several artists including Arlo Guthrie and even the ever graceful Dolly Parton.

I heard from a friend in Houston from way back. I walked to the trial end and stood there with saddened former employees of Enron who lost their lives and pensions due to this scheme. Sadly, another came up with other victims in the name of Bernie Madoff. He made off with a lot of money. I think it was 32 billion. In this case, people also lost life savings and pensions, homes and everything. I’m talking about everything they worked for including reserved newspaper delivery money since they were ten years old. No, I never “invested” my nickels and dimes there.

I always wanted a newspaper route but it would not have paid anything except additional exercise because it was a half-mile to a mile door-to-door up and down hills and by bicycle it didn’t pay. Town did the duty by truck. Yes, of course it was when Walter Cronkite was on TV News and we couldn’t read the NYTimes on the internet.

The City of New Orleans is one of my favorite songs. I may even be able to play a version of it. It’s funny that as a writer remembering lyrics is my weak point as I write. Good morning, America, how are ya? Don’t you know me, I’m your native son….. Cheers! Dee

 

Precision

Yes, I know it. My husband, father, brother and I all do it in our sleep. That’s what awakens me at 3:00 a.m., with ideas. I cannot let these ideas go to waste so write and some actually come to fruition.

My husband and I have different ideas but similar ideals. He is home writing a book and tries to cook and do dishes and makes a mess everywhere so I follow him and pick up the messes while thinking I could have cooked in 1/10th the time and everything would still be clean! I don’t even start to do physics or coding. I was lucky to get out of college math. Religion was tougher but I stood through both.

He and I chart the same course and get there by differing ways, his is scientific and mine artistic which is probably why we met, and married nearly 15 years ago. My father was a genius, with people. Don’t get me started. Dr. B got his doctorate decades ago. Mom had the math smarts that went directly to my brother. I am the bleeding heart who saves puppies and kittens. Not that way, we have one dog nearly 14 years old who we adopted from a shelter at six weeks of age. I added formulas to the impressive written regimen documented by the foremost feral cat spay/neuter “operation” in the country. That is what I do, legislation, volunteer lobbying for legal leash-free areas and any business-related paperwork my husband needs. I also do taxes et al. Our taxes.

I also buy the dog educational games, the first of which I’ve given away twice. She solved it in four minutes the first time, then down to 45 seconds. A year or so ago I got her a new game that took her 14 minutes to solve as every piece involves two brain segments, moving and removing, in order to get the treat. She only played it once, at least six months ago. We’ll have to try it again. People think I’m nuts for buying doggie education games but if it keeps her brain active and young despite her age, I’m all for it.

What? You got Mom-opoly for dogs? I didn’t even know there was such a thing! Well, Zoe knows about it. And once you show a herder something, once, it is “routine.” That is our life in a nutshell. Like putting her in the back seat of our car and driving my husband to work. She would watch him crossing the street to his workplace across from the bus station. Zoe would jump up from the back and take over the passenger seat like a person, and everyone at the bus station would laugh out loud. “Look, she thinks she’s a person!”

She was, and is, that person we love so much. Cheers! Dee

 

 

 

 

 

Arancini

My favorite Italian grocery has OO flour, that I usually use for my pizza dough. Yesterday I wanted to taste my first arancino and the deli guy said the meat was better than the vegetarian one. My husband has a lunch today and I’ve mine, leftovers in the best way.

In Scotland one has the “Scotch Egg” that is a boiled egg covered with sausage, breading and fried.

In Italy one has something in the middle, usually meat, covered with cooked rice and fried and served with tomato sauce. It was delicious!

I am certain that every nation and culture has their version of a fried meatball. It is sad that I waited all these years of culinary exploration to try arancini, just because I didn’t mentally understand it. This is the place we get our pasta, cheeses, sandwiches and I never found a place in my heart for arancini. It’s there now! Cheers, Dee

Mom Was Right

My husband is a sweetheart. A messy one. He is not called the “human tornado” for nothing. I named him that 15 years ago.

At first it was OK for him to get water above the shower and around both sinks. He’s been home for a bit writing a book, so he wants spaghetti and meat all the time and the sauce goes all over the walls.

Then he wants to do dishes, which means water all over the counters and floors. I’m a trained chef. Mise en place and clean up whatever you mess up, right away. I have to follow him like Ratatouille cleaning walls, counters, bathroom mirrors, floors.

I helped fellow graduates cook graduation dinner at the James Beard House in Manhattan. Yet to meet my love, my family was the largest to attend so got the best table in the House.

It was James Beards’ bedroom, with mirrors on the ceiling. If I’d have known my husband way back then, he would have gotten tomato sauce on the ceiling. That is my human tornado. I hope the book is done soon so he can be out of my hair a few hours a day.

Even our old dog Zoe doesn’t want to be up on our bed any more. Talk, turn on a re-run or touch her fur with your toe and she goes UBD. Thats Under Bed Dog. She crawls under on my side where I can’t miss her and leave without walking or feeding her. Smart dog. Herder. Whenever she misbehaves, my dear one says “we should have adopted the dumb one.” I disagree. I occasionally tell her we can take her back to the animal shelter. Well, I can’t yell at her or touch her! Nearing age 14, or ever in past or future, would we ever take her in for return. We’re in it for the long haul. Here’s to being a dog parent and spouse of the human tornado. Dee

 

Docs and Codes

I went through a lot helping spay/neuter 2,500 feral cats, many more now since I moved to a place where they shoot cats and ask questions later.

As head of Transport I made sure the cats got down the line from tipping (tip the right ear as these cats are smart enough never to be trapped again and caretakers know which ones had already been done), so ears and vaccines. At the end of the line was fleas and combing. I had to make sure the cat did not awaken during that time before he/she was put in a numbered crate. We took good care of them as I had crate cleaners pre-surgery and breathers post-surgery. Good folks.

If the tag came out with a code for tapeworms I knew the docs or ER would take care of it. If I found it I just brought the cat back into the OR to document the issue so ER could issue the drug. Docs asked how I knew a cat had tapeworms. Little pieces of rice that move. After a couple of months they believed me and signed the order. This is the only time this cat has to be healthy so if he/she has any type of worms it is the time to fix it.

I quickly learned all the codes I had to transmit to ER and Transport and Breathers, they made rounds and made certain they were breathing until they awakened from anesthesia. I made my own wake-up list on my computer so they could check a form so they knew one had not awakened as yet (extra care) and another was just taking a nap.

Two stories, sad and scary. I’ll do scary first.

An eight-week old kitten came out of surgery and was barely breathing. ER was a van. I climbed in and had to give him slight acupressure until he was breathing on his own. I called for a volunteer to get his crate by number and lifted him into it. He had extra breather instructions to keep a close eye on him and he was OK.

The saddest was when I saw a Dr. code I did not recognize. HBC. I asked ER what it meant. She said Hit By Car. The docs did everything they could do but he didn’t make it and died in the van. We all cried. Fellow volunteers took photos that day, one of my butt reaching down to check on a cat before we had tables (made by volunteers, more like folding sawhorses with plywood). Heaven will bless them for that gesture. The other was of the cat, hoping for the best and not getting there that day. We did make a great difference but it was so sad to see one go.

Often when a family member is ill and actually has health insurance and is in hospital or hospice the best thing you can do is be there. Years ago my mother had cancer surgery and my new husband and I flew out to see her. We walked into the room after she had dismissed us over Thanksgiving then the next day because I got the flu and my dear husband said, after a couple of years, hello.

He changed the subject. He was not talking about her cancer, but about his father and selling the dairy and starting the ranch. He left to use the restroom and she said the nicest thing she ever said to me, “he’s a sweetheart.” I know, mom, I married him. She appreciated that he told her stories from a kind of life she’d never lived.

Be kind. Back up your beliefs. Love your family and friends. Cheers, Dee

Weekend “Worst Things”

I would rather turn out 32 rescued Greyhounds weekly to respective pens on Sunday, from the worst track imaginable, feed and medicate them. I would rather spend nine hours one Saturday per month spaying and neutering 200 feral cats…..

than clean the frig. My husband and I did it yesterday. He got rid of the trash, I cleaned shelves and drawers and ran an extra dishwasher load of some of my favorite dishes. Some of them are stored up high so he’ll help me with that for one minute today.

Yes, I had science projects. Even if I still had the microscope “Santa” gave me in grade school I wouldn’t recognize the mold.

Now I have to do the freezer by myself. There’s a large drawer that has to be pulled out to clean beneath as the ice maker spits ice all the time and one marinade did not freeze and exploded. Stealth and quickness in keeping frozen things frozen. Our dog would be very upset if her 6 pounds of frozen raw food stuck together because it melted. I would be, as well, because I’d have to use a cleaver to pry it apart.

Ah, married life. You can tell that I cook and do dishes because when we were here four years, the kitchen sink nearly fell below. It’s an under-mount sink so they had to prop and glue it back in. I believe we got take-out that evening waiting for it to cure, and cereal in the morning. Sandwiches for lunch. No-one here ever cooks, but me.

I love cooking for us, family and guests and now we have nearly a blank canvas, frig-wise. I did find this awful organic peanut butter that I could never use for our dog’s “Kongs” (which we freeze when we go out) because it had to be stirred, how I do not wish to know. The oil was on top and had to be mixed in. It’s a dog. I’ll buy her favorite peanut butter and not from the organic store. It’s only a teaspoon per Kong.

My husband started on the frig without me and we worked together well. It took an hour but we got it done. After 1:00 Sunday we missed events in town. He got sandwiches and I took a nap. Now that’s marriage. Cheers! Dee

 

WWGD

What would Gibbs do? I am watching my annual homage to the US Navy, an Air Show. We may be transitioning to WWII. Oh, I love this guy! Up, stall, twirl, he’s a solo act. Blue Angels are the highlight. Gotta go watch. Dee

Resume

Dad taught me so many things. How to lay bricks around a pool, three years in a row. How to get the stones and make a retaining wall. He taught me how to eat an ice cream cone and drink a milkshake through a straw, He told me I could be anyone I wanted to be.

How to think about what kind of resume I would have, before and after I went to college. Having fun in Italy. Opening presents Christmas day. Midnight Mass.

Irish singers, beltway bandits, Iranian royalty, cellists, flautists, tenors, ballet and opera divas, theater a la art elope epiduris, you name it, he brought it.

I just brought the check and roses for the divas that were de-thorned and placed in little vessels to keep them “alive” to take off in time to hand them to him to take on stage, then place them back. College summers. It was a long time ago, I was with Program reading and complying with contract riders, my brother was a sweeper as a kid then Amp Crew. My sister worked gardening and early morning garbage truck after sleeping maybe two hours after she sneaked into our quarters. Baby sister was just a little kid.

Dad had an impact on all of us. We all got together for his funeral, which was lovely but a fiasco for his children. Beyond that we were able to get together once as our family, another brief time with cousins before everyone headed for the airport. It was a sad day, a good day when everyone told stories. I love stories. Art Alone Endures, art elope epiduris, that’s what it looks like above the stage in Erte style. Dee