What Can I Say?

She’s smart, funny, pretty, getting old, cares for us, herds us, kind, gentle to all including puppies, babies and cats.

We went out for “last chance” tonight as we do every evening. I took off her leash and hung it upon our return (it’s windy enough to blow her across the street) and I hung up my coat and took off my shoes.

Our Zoe will be 13 years old in a couple of months. We got her because my husband asked when we were first married whether I wanted to have kids. I said “no, we have to get a dog first, to find out how bad you’ll be.” Well, we never had kids, not for not wanting them. A year after we married we adopted Zoe at six weeks of age. After years of volunteering at many shelters and rescues, she is the happiest dog I’ve ever met.

I’ve known my husband longer but know Zoe inside and out. It’s probably because my husband has a very large, complex brain that spouts mathematical theories, binary code and any number of software languages. Zoe is relatively simple. Her favorites are food, sleep, walks and her herd. That would be us.

Tonight while I put up her leash, she stood in the hallway facing our bedroom waiting for me to go there. Herding me. I finally took her but told her she wouldn’t like it if I wasn’t there. I was going to the living room and kitchen and then office to write. She doesn’t like to be alone.

I lifted her to the bed (she has no hips and is old so can no longer jump up). Unbeknownst to me, she hopped down as her front half is strong, and made her way to the #2 bed, a flat thing with a view of the living room, hallway, doorway and kitchen so she makes sure I do not leave her sight, without her knowledge. I found her there before coming here.

Her third bed is a big, comfy one with surrounding “arms” that cradle her body and lift her head, that is at the foot of our bed. Around four in the morning, she jumps off our bed, circles around and crawls underneath our bed, right under my pillow, so I cannot go anywhere without her knowing.

She knows when someone is coming to visit, and when my husband is coming home from a business trip even if it’s just a text saying flight number and “on the plane.” I know what she is thinking and her priorities.

I’ve never had a dog like this. My last one was broken mentally and beaten physically and in a shelter her second year of life and I “fixed” her over 10 years. Zoe needed two hip surgeries as a pup and grew her own and has not been sick for a day for 12 years (that doesn’t include throwing up from eating a dead toad or bird from the asphalt in Texas, years ago).

My Chani was a wonderful dog, and the entire neighborhood got together and gave the city a tree in “her” park in her memory fifteen years ago. Zoe is kind of a mascot around here, an elder statesdog. Her food was delivered today from the only place in/outside town that carries it, and her friend M petted her like crazy after unloading her new stash and told me they like being petted “ears and rears.” Isn’t he right?

He doesn’t know that Zoe loves baths, hates comb-outs, except for the tummy. She’ll show me her tummy and have me comb away. I know her little mind and can never replace that or her singular personality. My husband keeps me guessing. Never go on a car trip with him. He’ll ask what kind of smoke is coming from that factory and what that factory makes. Then he’ll give a physics lesson.

After all these years I love seeing Zoe sleeping on her 4″ orthopedic bed in the back of my SUV and would rather hear s***kicker music down south or even a religious lecture on the radio than the same physics lesson again and again. Oh, we love our Zoe. Dee

 

Eldest, Wing Ma’am

Yes, I am, but not with a flock of fledgelings. They’re all grown up now. When we meet, we meet. We all cook well and enjoy rare time together.

Yes, there are responsibilities, one of which is to cede to whomever is better for a certain task. As big sis, I tend to know the traits of my younger siblings and am confident in all the family tasks they have taken on with me as a “wing ma’am.”

We’re all older now and take on different duties. What I need to do is probably send a parachute out of a plane one day (it will not include me unless all of us agree to sky dive) with kid stuff and letters from whatever bad memories of childhood remain. I used steel wool on my father’s paint to get off the tar. Whoops! My sister and I coated the basement with water to clean it, with his favorite horsehair brush. Oh, and we flooded it. Sorry!

No. Scratch that airplane thought. My horrible new ACA health care premium company (not marketplace) won’t pay for an ER visit when my head was spurting blood. Humana said because it was only my head spurting blood it was not a danger to life and limb and just charged me 9K to not diagnose me and give me unnecessary medical procedures. I need to get a new health care company even though we’ve tons of other insurance if I want to go para-sailing or jump out of a plane.

I had a large growth they never looked for. It was later diagnosed by a professional, excised, biopsied and was benign. I was healed. Now InHumana is denying everything. Remember the movie with Matt Damon, Danny DeVito and Great Benefits? I bled all weekend so couldn’t see the doc until she could see my eye. If this is the new health care system I’d rather a high-priced insurer who actually pays a valid claim. They’ve denied the majority of my surgery and biopsy as well.

Right now (or ever) I don’t want to jump on a plane because of TSA, or jump out of one. My husband is away for three weeks and the dog is depressed. She misses the fun guy. So do I. Everything will work out. Dee

ps Please never call me ma’am. A grocery clerk called me Miss the other day and I think I was just over the moon! Thanks, D

Snoring… or Not

I am a mother. Yes, a mother of a husband and dog. No, I am a wife and a dog owner. I’m the food wench.

The difficulties lie in degrees. If my husband is deeply snoring, I cannot sleep. I go and lie on the sofa with a blanket. When he stops snoring I can try to go back to bed. My first thought is that he is not breathing, so I check. Fifteen years ago I could control and monitor his breathing. Now, as he’s gone much of the time for business he doesn’t care about breathing, even farting, because he’s in a hotel by himself.

Every day I don’t see him is not a life. Fifteen years ago last week we had our first date. Anthony Hopkins’ Hearts in Atlantis, and Mexican food.

When I can’t hear him I’m right there and know that he is alive and breathing and I can take a breath as well.

Same with our old dog Zoe. Sometimes I wonder if she is breathing after I’ve lifted her up to our bed. I place my hand on her chest and know she’s OK for now.

Now he’s on a business trip and Zoe wants to get put back up to bed. She checks on me as well. I miss his company and snoring. I love to see Zoe awaken in REM sleep to chase squirrels. Life is all around us. Enjoy it. Dee

ps Gotta go. Zoe needs Otis (me) the elevator person to get her back to bed after she jumped down to make sure I was breathing. I was writing, little one! I can write and breathe at the same time. She’s back up, Otis’ed, so I must go. When I can not hear my husband snoring, I miss him. D

It’s Not Fair

I know, nothing is fair. Love and life, war, strife. Having a meal or not being able to find one.

We are about to choose the leader of the nation based on political attacks.

I have made my choice. Bob Newhart will be President. VP will be Whoopie Goldberg as I always wanted a VP named Whoopie. Sorry, VP Goldberg as you’ll have to go to a lot of funerals.

Secretary of State is Robert Klein. UN Ambassador is Meryl Streep as she speaks all the languages and is a consummate actor.

Chief of staff is up for grabs. Go for it. Dee

ps. It’s not up for grabs, Chief of Staff is Bob Dylan. Joan Baez is head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the military.

pps Jane Fonda is head of the Afghanistan project but that’s CIA so you know, and whoops, did I say CIA?

ppps Jimmy Buffett is head of the Manatee Program, sorry CIA, I blew it again. I’ll stop now. No, I can’t.

Cheech and Chong are doing everything that has anything to do with TSA.

The people who become famous for becoming famous, the Kardashians, are in charge of busting anyone who wants to have tv shows as bad as their shows. They are the new J Edgar Hoover. OK I’ll ‘splain it to you, it’s the FBI. You’re in charge of reality TV shows.

Who is the CIA? Can you help me with this?  It is anyone who went to prep school, any Ivy League school. Secret societies. All I can guess is that you play tennis and golf because you’ve never worked a day in your life, just sail to get away from the life you do not live. D

 

 

A Decadent Brunch

My husband gets to be home on weekends. Saturday I made him Eggs Benedict. He talked me through the Hollandaise as I haven’t made it since cooking school. I think I used every pot and pan we have.

Making it American, I sauteed American speck (no extra fat was added to the pan) to place on the muffin, just watch it in the pan so it doesn’t burn. It was quite salty. If there is a next time for this decadent dish, it will have true Italian prosciutto.

My husband also got to put down the toast every couple of minutes, of course they were English muffins! After the sauce was done I placed eggs in simmering water with vinegar.

Plating was muffin, speck, egg and Hollandaise. Tasty, rich. We got lazy for the rest of the day and he had me watch a movie I didn’t like so I had him watch the last few moments of a cooking show.

Today I must make burgers for lunch and Beef Carbonnade for dinner. Right now I took the dog out, fed her and lifted her back up to bed. He’s there, I am not. Both she and he need to sleep. Cheers! Dee

Rounding Things Out

No-one ever taught me this. I’ve just kind of taught myself.

Sometimes it doesn’t work at all. My neighbors are expecting a baby, their first, any day now and I saw that they had a package, as did we, so I asked if I could take it up for them. No, that’s against Security. I pick up my older neighbors’ prescriptions downstairs all the time, with no concern about security. I love them, knock on their door and deliver. That’s the benefit of being out with a dog five times a day!

Normally, I round out meals. I grew up with three square meals a day and my mother always made dessert for after dinner. My concerns are more in balancing tastes, flavors, textures, color, and guests. For whom am I cooking and what plates, linens, to use; family style plating? If the Texas side is coming by to see July 4 fireworks it’s my beans in a crock pot, steak and ribs on the grill, potato salad and my Celebration Cole Slaw. Yes, they’re all served on the “bar” in handmade Italian serving platters and bowls we were given for our wedding nearly 14 years ago.

Today I am learning to round things out with flowers, but made a misstep. I picked out my flowers and colors and decided to arrange them myself. Daisies, football mums, purple chrysanthemum star variety I’d say, and the same alstroemeria I had in my wedding bouquet. I bought a bouquet that was already made for the dining table, one flowering Kale for the kitchen counter and my sorry bouquet.

It just looked kind of naked so I went back to the shop and bought two thistles for height and color (and our love of Scotland), and two sprigs of greens. Voila! It looks beautiful. I rounded it out in color, height and a bit of oomph.

This is a relatively new floral business that has moved to our neighborhood. I love them and they’ve always been good to me. Today I thought I’d tell them I may have a large corporate account and over 500 potential customers in the neighborhood. When later I was sold the simple greens and thistles I bought a small vase and a beautiful dahlia for the person will be making floral decisions. We’re friends, Irish “sisters” six weeks apart. She placed the shop’s cards out for people to see, an action I may regret.

The person who sold me two vases and greens and thistles told me she could not place water in a vase for me to carry home. I asked for a teaspoon of water for the dahlia in a vase I bought from her. She said no and that Friday was “cash and carry” only. No water allowed.

So much for trying to round things out. Five hundred potential customers vs. one teaspoon of water denied by an ornery clerk. Shame on you! There is something to be said for being kind to all customers, especially “regulars,” and promoting the business. Denying me a teaspoon of water or even a wet paper towel for the stem sends me a sign and it is not a good one. I went to a shop twice in one day, spent money, and asked for their cards to be placed visibly in the community, and was denied a teaspoon of water. Do I really need to pay for a tsp. of water? She didn’t ask me that, just said “no.”

I’ve rarely seen it before but what goes around, comes around. I’ve worked for people and folks have worked me. I am and have always been a team player. I’ve no patience for braggarts, divas or slackers. I’ve rounded things out on athletic teams, with clients, and with taking leadership in volunteer roles as a trustee and as a hands on worker.

Walk the walk. Well, my hips are frail so I’ll try to keep up. Round something out, whether it’s the Day Old Pastries band or whatever! Dee

 

 

Saves

I save things, a paper hog. Just ask my husband. Yesterday was the 15th anniversary of our first date. Movie and dinner. He opened the passenger door, took my hand and never let go.

Last night he was on another date, a bro-mance with a co-worker, his wife and kids and mother and others for some event. I missed him but someone gave me a shortbread cookie for my celebration with the old dog Zoe, getting older by the day.

We saved Zoe, and I saved Nathan, Chani and Mick Dundee (Mickey). I helped save thousands of cats and dogs over many years, as a volunteer through shelters and spay/neuter clinics.

A new neighbor has a young, small cat who has a voice that would drown out a Baptist choir. My Nathan (Burmese, rip 1987-2001) never let me get the last word in until the pink liquid “cured” him of congestive heart failure exacerbated by pneumonia and his ashes went to feed flowers at the pet cemetery.

I told our new neighbors that I get a kick out of “the voice,” perhaps she should be on The Voice! One day I thought it was a baby crying. It only goes on for a minute or so, probably when she is left alone. Hey, Nathan talked back to me for 13 years and Mick was raised by Chani the dog and and taught himself to fetch crumpled post-it notes, sail over the sofa and retrieve. Dogs in the neighborhood used to run away from home to play with him. They all have talent.

Chani’s talent was to get over abuse by men and children and love them again. I helped her do that through training, trust, love. I had to break the news of her death and the toddlers just said “hi” to me and did not yell out her name and run towards me, afterwards, with mommy’s permission.

Yes, Mickey Mouse (another nickname), dropped that post-it note at my feet for me to toss again. When I moved out there was a plethora of post-its underneath the sofa that he carried around when I was working at home or in meetings.

Fifteen years ago I went on a first date, and now my husband of nearly 14 years has held my hand ever since. We and our families and friends have been through much change over the years, a lot for good. Think about family, current and old friends. Say hello again, hello, as Joan Baez did in one of my favorite songs. Dee

Steel

I thought of it yesterday as I wrote about “some assembly required.” I think my parents were not pleased after I graduated high school, college and had what they thought was a great job in a big city.

Turns out I gave it up and spent my life savings to go to cooking school. Put that together with a healthy college education and it made me grow up and allow my education to fully coalesce.

At age seven, spending Saturday mornings in the local library while Mom was shopping, I found Betty Crocker’s Boys and Girls Cookbook and checked it out. Three weeks later the librarian called Mom and said I owed $.32 in late fees, that came out of my $.50 allowance.

A new book of the same name was my birthday gift at age eight. Later on, my parents did not like my quitting my rat race job in the big city for culinary pursuits.

While thinking kids and holidays and some assembly required I recall what my husband now calls a stamped steel toy kitchen. It was pink, all metal. It actually had a reservoir for water that worked for the first day. The “frig” had plastic veggies, fruits and proteins. The oven did nothing.

Back then there was a choice of harvest gold or avocado (I didn’t know what that fruit was at the time) appliances. Then my parents moved up to a Star Wars kitchen as they bought a home people ran out of money to finish. All steel. Avant garde.

Now rich people always do what they want, make a kitchen not look like a kitchen, keep an old home with a kitchen in back that only cooks and servants enter, or make everything open.

I think most people don’t get custom cabinets, even fewer design their own kitchens so everything works for them. That could mean pull-out cabinets and everything handy at a moment’s notice for a chef.

Those who had avocado or harvest gold appliances have gone to white, then black, then steel. I have steel and they all look nice together but if I could create a really workable kitchen it would be still a galley. I am not a fan of the huge Texas kitchens with 8′ between appliances and no prep space. That screams “take-out” or delivery to me. Pizza and Chinese food are on their speed dial.

Because I actually use my kitchen, the sink nearly fell through because the undermount supports failed. A kitchen must be useful.

Form follows function. Those are not my words, but those of Louis Henry Sullivan, creator of the first skyscraper. The dictum has been trashed over the years, perhaps fatally. I cannot sing about architecture but will whine about kitchens.

There is a list in my mind of things I wish for in my retirement kitchen. Guest space, two islands, prep space, view. I would like major appliances to meld together, not all from the same company, and restaurant quality. Form follows function in appliances above the counter as well. If I made rice five times per day, I’d have a rice cooker, coffee/espresso/latte the same. I do not do either.

I have a toaster, hot water electric kettle (essential in the mountains or Britain not that I would travel with it as theirs are better as is their electric oomph), stand mixer, food processor and blender. Yes, I’ve other items such as a meat grinder attachment, hand-crank pasta machine, ricer and more but those are to be stored elsewhere. A butler’s pantry sounds right for lovely dishes and sundry appliances. Plus a cooling rack for food that I do not wish the dog to have. Yes, there is to be a vented door on the butler’s pantry that is dog-proof.

A pink kiddy kitchen was placed in our basement to keep me out of the real kitchen.  How long can a kid play with plastic apples and pork chops? Enough to create a crown roast of pork with gala apples, hard cider gravy, with cornbread stuffing for Christmas dinner for my in-laws.

Now I have the real steel thing, it has its’ limitations. Don’t worry, I’m working on it. Enjoy the weekend! Dee

 

Haiku for Dad

The kitten found me

Our deaths were not an option

We kept each other warm

 

***

Parents sent me to camp for a week. I hated it. Five mile hikes in the rain and 40 degree weather at night, my lame sleeping bag let me not sleep because of the cold then I had to drink prune juice every morning and use the loo with other girls into a chemical toilet.

My younger sister thrived on this stuff a week earlier. Now I spent my ten cents a day on two Peppermint Patties, wrote a postcard home and awaited my release.

That kitten saved both of us, and that has been a theme for many years and tears. He crawled under my crummy sleeping bag near my feet, I finally slept without freezing and we kept each other warm all night. I freaked out to find out there was a critter, and we checked it out. He was removed and probably killed.

For years I’ve worked for as a volunteer for feral cats and for shelter dogs and cats. He inspired me. The earliest memories are the purest of heart.

I think we should name him. I was just eight years old and thought the camp people were being nice. They were getting rid of vermin. He saved my life from frostbite. To this day I regret his demise.

Nathan and Mickey, I know you’re taking care of him up in the big blue sky. He inspired your unique personalities. At age eight, I did get a sense of what to do but forces were overwhelming and I didn’t have Dad to help. There were no cell phones, even land lines, there.

Paladin, “Pala to me” means character, nobility and courage. He saved my life. Cheers, Dee

 

Remarkable

It’s been five days since teeny baby Paisley and her family moved out. We’re down to two dogs on our floor because Huxley, the quiet one, moved to the suburbs. Paisley’s folks will be building a home in the country.

There are seven very nice apartments up here. Our old dog Zoe (90 in “people years”) was the only dog for years and made sure everyone was safe. For a while we had three dogs here. Now it’s just Zoe and her old blind pal, Mr. B.

Imagine that with so few homes we’d have two pregnant ladies! Granted, Paisley’s mom moved. Another bairn (Scots for baby, see “wee bairn” in my Aunt’s, the retired English teacher’s bathroom). I had to find a word, pronounce it correctly, spell it and use it in a sentence every time I used the powder room!

My neighbors with blind Mr. B are due for a blessed event this month. They’re doing great. Over the days I see a number of packages at their door. Some look like flat packs. I see them from down the hall and think of IKEA and other flat pack furniture that comes with a crummy Allen wrench.

Then my mind goes to a couple of years hence when baby boy/girl sees a tricycle and points and says “Mommy, Daddy, I want that!” Then the inevitable happens. Parents buy the tricycle in a flat pack and do what my parents told me decades later.

They stayed up until 4 a.m. (at least Dad did) putting together the metal kitchen for me, assembling the mini car race track for my brother. I always wondered why my parents were so tired at six o’clock Christmas morning.

Soon they started buying us sweaters and socks plus one small special item each, then getting a family gift for the basement (nice big room, windows, fireplace et al) like a ping pong table one year, air hockey the next. As I recall they always said the sweaters et al were from Mom and Dad, the special gift for all was from Santa. All of a sudden, my parents weren’t so tired Christmas morning.

They did start a tradition, however, one worth preserving. Every year Mom went out and got us kids themed ornaments for the tree. She never liked those glass balls that broke into 1,000 pieces except for “filler” on the tree. Often she marked the kid’s initial and year on the back. When we went off to college she gave each one of us a box with our own ornaments to start our own tree.

I do not know where many of my old ornaments are but my husband and I will soon be married 14 years and I try to get us matching ornaments on a theme of where we’ve lived (lassos and bagpipes,snowmen and a moose on a sled, vastly different ornaments, of course). It provides a family history. “Oh, that’s the year were were in ….”

Cheers and help maintain and create traditions, food and more, in your home. Food is sustenance, and family. Dee

ps The racetrack was 8’x15′ and in the basement. Electric, with strips underneath the car to connect to the track. Two cars, one blue, light and fast. One white, a bit heavier and slower. I was always white and always won. When blue tried to beat me it was so light that on the turns it flew off the track and cost time. I went fast on the straightaways and slow around the turns and the tortoise won the race. D