Crayfish

Posted on May 5, 2016 | Leave a comment

When I was nearly eight we moved to a country property with 25 acres and a stream. I learned to ride horses (sort of, a disaster actually) and be a country gal picking wild berries and having snakes thrown at me from the boys down the road. Yes, it was all in “good” fun.

At the library amidst the dusty tomes was a book I wanted, we’d been looking for plays to act in the basement but could find none with two characters.

The Betty Crocker Boys and Girls Cookbook. Mom left us at the Library weekly while she visited the grocery and I checked this book out. The Librarian called Mom when I owed $.31 in late fees. Scandalous. She made me take it back then bought me a new one three weeks later for my 8th birthday.

We had a royal party with castle cake for my little brother’s birthday party, then the following year a cake and pirate treasure hunt. Aargh! Costumes, cake, decorations, I was a party planner!

What I didn’t realize that 150′ below our home, at the bottom of a cliff my grandfather rigged (he had built bridges) to traverse were little critters we called crayfish and folks from Louisiana call crawfish or crawdads.

How was I ever to know that I could catch and cook them? All they did is bite. How delicious! A bit of seasoning and drawn butter. I’ve still haven’t had one.

Now I see these eight year-old precocious children on Chopped waxing poetic about all the things they’ve learned from parents and others. Ironically, in the early seventies we had an open concept very modern kitchen, I just wasn’t allowed in it.

Where were you John Besh, Emeril? Kids or not born yet, I forgive you. At least we got three tv channels and on one was Julia Child. She saved my life. A strong, talented, determined woman who beat the system and taught Americans French cuisine. An inspiration, to be sure. Same to Simca as she was my muse in cooking school.

Cheers and “bon appetit,” Dee

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GPS

Posted on May 5, 2016 | Leave a comment

For dogs?

I felt so bad last week. My new/old neighbors were moving in next door, so since I’d taken care of their dog before I offered (with Zoe’s approval, of course) to take him in for a few hours.

B is blind. He gets around great but he knows where he lives now (they used to be our neighbors a few years ago in the other tower) and hung out by our front door for the first hour. I know he likes Zoe’s bed so brought it out to the living room so we could all hang out together. I didn’t really think about where I placed it, closest to us.

He got onto the bed, inserted his big head into the side of the tv cabinet, jerked upwards and hit his noggin. Then he ran back to the front door to await his parents’ return. That lasted another 20 minutes, I moved Zoe’s bed a foot away so there were no impediments and he came back and settled in.

Ran into his folks on the elevator yesterday and they said there’s a new gadget, something for blind dogs that is a sort of GPS that keeps them from hurting themselves by running into things. I hope it works!

 

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Tit for Tat

My old, sane dog had a basket of about 25 toys and tennis balls in a basket by the front door. She knew by car sound who was visiting and worryingly nosed through the basket to find the exact stuffed animal with which to greet our guest. Diesel Mercedes, sounds like a sewing machine, my sister, must be Clifford The Big Red Dog!

Well, Zoe has been through that basket and eviscerated every stuffed animal in it. In moments, batting and squeaker all over the floors. Because it is at the top of the closet with a felt heart lined with lace and tiny beads from a lovely friend, the teddy bear Chani’s ashes are in is away from Zoe’s awful relationship to stuffed toys.

Zoe has one toy we call Precious. It is an indestructible mesh toy with a latex toy with squeaker stuffed inside. The first one had to be thrown away not because she got through it, but because after ten years it began to deteriorate. We got another, now there’s a latex gorilla inside and she squeaks it incessantly when I let her have it, which is seldom. It’s a treat.

Her friend was not interested in Precious and no amount of Zoe showing off worked, but Zoe doesn’t know B is blind. He acts like a normal dog.

When folks were finished with the move, they returned and got B. Zoe went in right after him. He got a plush large faux lamb “bone” and took it around his new home. He kept it from Zoe and pranced around as if he never needed a GPS. He was home and has had plenty of time to reconnoiter our place as well. Zoe never got to tear his toy to shreds. Serves her right! Their folks have been so kind to me. I hope B will be our guest often. They don’t play, but like to be near each other.

Cheers! Dee

 

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Vision

Posted on May 2, 2016 | 1 comment

It’s easy to have it in my mind, for any crazy, sane or simple outside the box idea. In my eye, not so easy. I have to time antibiotic medication so I can get things done then be at home for a few hours while my right eye becomes too blurry for me to drive and for it to come back before even walking the dog. You should see the condition of sidewalks and streets here, if I were to make a recipe for Disaster, these would be the main ingredients.

It doesn’t help that my husband is across the country all week, every week. The pain and granules coming out of the eye are lessening, as I believe is the swelling.

Yes, I’ve been fitted for glasses before but no-one has ever messed with my eyes until now. I’m glad my doc is a good one and hope next week I’ll find out I don’t have cancer.

The day after surgery I walked over to my barber across the street, with whom I had cancelled an appointment when this whole eye thing came up. My hair was way too long and straggly. He took off tons of hair and gave me a bob I’m learning how to work. I’ve scrunchies, beautiful clip bows and even a Ferragamo headband (30 years ago it was the only thing I could afford at the Duty Free in Milan).

Bert the Barber and I have a rule. My hair needs to be pulled back and secured when I cook at home. We do not like hair in our food. I’m also a stickler for cross-contamination but only my butchers need to know about that. Oh, perhaps I’ll do a piece on cooking rules. I’ve already got pantry ingredients/recipes and utensils and essential cookbooks. On site. Yes, packaged, ready to go, and free. This is not a monetized site.

Oh, I made a succulent pot roast last night over pappardelle noodles. My husband loved it. He leaves before seven tomorrow so I’m making him oatmeal in milk topped with a dollop of Greek yogurt and berries. That’ll keep him full on the drive and the plane. Special recipe to anyone who actually gets to Volume 2 of Essential Pantry and tries a recipe. Cheers! Dee

 

 

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The Doctor is In

Posted on April 29, 2016 | 1 comment

This morning I opened an organic banana for breakfast and it had a huge bruise on top which I cut out.

In high school my best friend Pam sliced bananas an eighth inch thick to make sure she didn’t get any bruises. She drove me nuts, surgically assaulting fruit. Guess what? She ended up a pediatric ER nurse her entire career. It all fits. Her father was a dentist.

Meticulous. I married a Pam in my meticulous husband, a physicist turned software engineer/consultant. He’ll spend 1/2 hour finding the right toilet paper on Amazon. It takes him an hour to write a two-sentence email and he types like crazy then edits and edits and ends up with a cogent message. This is not like saying hello to a neighbor. It’s business. I edit for content, context, spelling et al.

He’s on a flight home tonight so I have to plan menus for the weekend. I’ve a frozen pizza ready in case he’s hungry. I’m thinking Chicken Saltimbocca for one dinner, we can’t grill so it’s still cold here and I may make a pot roast one night with jus and pappardelle noodles (store-bought) before he flies back to work.

I’ve been ill lately so haven’t kept up our home. Tumbling tumbleweeds of dog undercoat on carpets. Need to get someone to help with spring cleaning so we can invite former neighbors over, with their new dog (I helped with the old one before he left us), for dinner and a bottle of private estate Tuscan wine. I did pour water on Jake’s tree the other day, RIP Jake you wonderful Golden Retriever. When he got tired of Zoe he used to lock himself in the bathroom. I felt bad and told his folks and they said he does it all the time at home. Phew!

Pam and I still keep in touch and I thought of her this morning while I took out the banana bruise without layers. I was never meant to be an ER nurse; analyst, advocate, volunteer-that’s Dee.

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Drugs

Posted on April 28, 2016 | 2 comments

I want to tell you how bad I am at this. I was at the eye specialist the other day for the first time and was asked if I did street drugs. I laughed and said I’m nearly 60 years old.

In my mind if I’d started on street drugs at age 17 I would no longer be alive. Not only have I never wanted them, if I did I’d never know where to go to get them. She said the insurance company wanted to know, even though they asked me when we enrolled in coverage.

My college “pack” used to leave the party room for me to watch TV or listen to ELO. They disappeared to another room to smoke pot. They never told me, invited me or did it in front of me. After decades I’ve kept in touch with three friends from college, two are dead, one a fellow student and another a prof. The other found me and we’ve been in touch. He’s met my husband for lunch. More important, he had me drive him sophomore year home to meet the girl he was seeing while she was a high school student, presumably for my OK. Yes, she was more than ok and they now have kids in college and grad school. I was the sister to a brotherhood. They protected me. I softened their rough edges so they could get girls.

So we started with my history with drugs. I got a biopsy done yesterday of my eyelid. They excised it, sent it to the lab to see if I have cancer. We’ll find out in a couple of weeks before my check-up.

I couldn’t see that well this morning so had a taxi take me to the drugstore and grocery. I’ve now this viscous petroleum-based antibiotic to be used on the eye and lid. I squeezed until I got a whole bunch in there. Whoops! Yes, I should have tried the viscosity on my finger first. That’s me and drugs. It’s not a good combination. Tell Led. Dee

 

 

e

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Quid Pro Quo

Posted on April 28, 2016 | Leave a comment

I liken it to what goes around, comes around. Usually it’s a negative version as for years I’ve given without asking for anything and they’ve taken and when my mother was in hospice care no-one I had helped over the years would take care of my dog for the first time. They were all too busy. Four years of me taking care of everyone and when I asked once I was told no by all. That’s telling. I never “volunteered” for them again.

No-one ever paid me for this, it was supposed to be a barter system but it did not work in my favor. In a new city I’ve volunteered occasionally but was leery of what was to come.

We’ve two towers here and we lived in one with corporate furniture for three months and got to know our neighbors while we searched neighborhoods. Of course you know our old dog Zoe by now. We moved to the other tower with a view. Yesterday, a new neighbor’s brother questioned how we knew each other so well over a week. Answer was we knew each other years ago.

Last week they became our neighbors in South Tower. Their dog was scared and I knew he and Zoe got along so I took him in for a few hours. The next day my eye was bleeding so she insisted on taking me to the ER and stayed with me a while. I made her go home and took a taxi back because she had boxes to unpack. When I arrived home my dog was making herself at home over there so I took her out and we went to bed.

A week later I had eye surgery (today) and after resting a while they were moving the rest of their things in. I took their dog for another few hours. She took care of me and my eye. I took care of their dog, who is blind. Quid pro quo. Oh, I got them tulips as a welcome gift before all this happened.

There are good things and good people. They just need to be found. My friend M was kind to take me to surgery and back and she and her brother are going to come over for some delicious dinner and a bottle of private estate Tuscan wine I got for my birthday a few months ago.

I helped take care of their dog as he was dying. I’d walked him occasionally for a couple of years then we helped to lift him. He died at home. Now I take a cup of water, walk out to the park and pour it on a favorite tree of Jake and my friend Wurli. Now Jake’s “aunt” took me to the doc today. That’s how it goes. There’s no money involved. It’s heart, and if you don’t have it I won’t help you. Cheers! Dee

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I’m Gibbs

Posted on April 20, 2016 | 1 comment

No wonder I love NCIS. OK, a very understated Gibbs that gets to the root of a problem and solves it. No military haircut, no oo-rah.

There’s a bit of McGeek in me with cooking. No Ziva but I’d have her as a big sister any day, she would have prevented my hat from being taken and shredded in half by the Ferry boys on a half bus used in the countryside where we lived and was called the “retard bus.”

My friends, the dairymen’s kids made sure the Ferry boys would never harm me again. I never knew how they did that. That was Ziva and Abby. Her real name is Ruth and Abby found the hat and helped me with the principal and with forensics and photo identification. The principal thought her boots were strange.

Ducky is my friend from Glasgow where we lived for a while (really). I never knew his mother or the Corgis. Tony was insistent on gaining my daughter’s attentions but I knew better. The autopsy gremlin was a better match. If Tony’s to commit to anything it must be Ziva.

Of course absent is the Director, no the LA Director Hetty, sorry Rocky from ER, I love you but this is fiction. Some story.

Truth is that I had to tell three happy ending stories to a blind dog last night outside his new door to get him to settle down on a move across the way. It’s good to have our old neighbors back and to make up stories.

Let’s play NCIS! Hetty, your tea is ready. Please bring your cup and saucer. Dee

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Compost and Dave Mason

Posted on April 20, 2016 | 1 comment

My parents were at a dinner party in Washington D. C. a long time ago and we kids got bored so went down to the basement where they had a few 100 year-old wooden wheelchairs from a local hospital charity sale. We had races. Basement races in an old brownstone. Cool!

Then the older boy put on a record of incredible music as I was 12 and used to top 40. My musical ears listened. He showed me the cover. It was Dave Mason, and way out of my wheelhouse for the moment.

A few years later we were in a frigid climate with a pool, Dave Mason, Joan Baez, James Taylor, Bob Dylan (All Along the Watchtower, Ruben Carter) and many others to come when I took up guitar, PPM, Johnny Cash, CSNY and Juni Fisher. I keep my fine guitar hydrated, not played.

We had an open campus high school and I lived three blocks away. In late spring I’d run home, hop into our pool chair listening to Dave Mason with a double album under my chin with aluminum foil helping me tan. Yes, the old days. For the record, I never had the record in the cover. Plus, I never got a tan, just UV rays!

If Mom was gone and had locked the front door I jumped over the fence into the compost pile, went by the pool to the back garage and kitchen entry doors and changed, then hopped into the pool. Twice a day during study hall.

In winter months when our pool was covered, iced and snowed I just took extra gymnastics classes. Dave Mason, Bad Company, Elton John, the Beatles and compost helped me out those two years. Cheers from a geek teen. Dee

ps The girls and boys never trained or competed together. Before lawsuits became the order of the day, every night of summer when school was out they opened a gymnastics gym for all of us gymnasts so we could learn new tricks. I was never a good gymnast. I was a great Captain for two years, for leadership skills. Even kept my little sister in line, as she questioned everything from warm-up on. In summer we got the super-steamy and stinky wrestlers’ gym with a 4′ mat so we could practice flips.

pps I had a diva, a “ringer” from the gym I taught at, and she aced it at the state championships. She retired to the locker room and said we were all going to take her down. I told her that our team all stood and cheered for her and that if she dons street clothes and leaves now she is no longer on the team to gain her reward. She decided to root for the team. Tough love, seldom, but when there’s a diva….. d

 

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Idea

Posted on April 19, 2016 | Leave a comment

My hip-less dog invited a blind dog in for the evening while his parents became our new (old) neighbors.

So I’m thinking we can invite over a deaf dog, one missing a kidney and one missing a leg.

Plus an artist and a deck of cards. It would be our own “dogs playing poker.” Thanks to all the veterinarians! Dee

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Kindness

Posted on April 19, 2016 | Leave a comment

Our Swedish neighbor moved out last month kitty corner, he will be missed. He taught me how to make Kottsbullar, Swedish Meatballs, lent me his dad for art and horticultural pursuits, and I taught him true Pedernales Texas Chili (no beans). He left before our “final exams” which is when I would have made his dish and he made mine. Hopefully we’ll see him and his gal someday soon as they’re still in town. I think there’s a wedding coming up. He was a player but found the one.

Zoe has monitored our floor as the only dog for years. Now there’s a Labradoodle “pup” who weighed in yesterday at 2X Zoe’s weight. No worries. He doesn’t care about Zoe, just wants to jump up on “Aunt Dee” and lick my face.

As of last night there’s a new dog, sounded big, loud bark for a long time. I arranged with the pup’s parents to ask for all the dogs to meet and work things out. That will happen on neutral ground.

This morning I met the newest kitty corner neighbor and I knew her years ago from across the way. I know her dog. She agreed to meet and I said that Zoe was 85 in “people years” so would be retiring as hall monitor and crossing guard. It’s between the other two to see who protects us. Of course Zoe will “snoopervise.”

Everything happens for a reason! Who knows where we’ll be in the next few months? Zoe and I do lay claim to two of our neighbor’s grandkids now 8 and 10 who play a lot of soccer now in their home state. They visit a few times a year and stand by our front door and just whisper “Zoe” until she runs to see them. As they grow, Zoe will be a faint memory.

I brought a mason jar to the flower store today and bought a few yellow tulips and mini-daisies in a box with welcome card and purple wrapping. My next door neighbor, a retired architect, asked who might have left that by the door, given the barking dog last night, who was just upset at moving and change and owner leaving to keep moving. Plus I’ve had him for a couple of hours, half the time sitting in front of his new door telling him stories of moving and happy endings. Now they bark every few minutes at every sound they hear.

We took care of B yesterday evening for a few hours. B is blind. Zoe has no hips. What a pair. Everything is new to him but he’s really smart and found his way everywhere. Then he got scared so I let him lead me to their home while they were away, moving, and I made up stories about a dog and a new home with good folks who are moving so took their dog to a safe place. They’ll be home soon. After three different versions of the story (no scary stuff) he relaxed went down and I knew he’d be OK.

Back at our place he laid down on Zoe’s bed and slept a bit. When his folks came to pick him up he disappeared. Where was he? Our place. Zoe was out being petted, of course. Zoe THW (the hip-less wonderdog) learned not to prance around waving her only toy at a blind dog, and took care of him as Grandma all night, even though he was home. B learned a bit of trust of a person and dog he knew years ago and new environments.

Of course it was me who gave the flowers. Turns out she’s an old neighbor from across the way. Other than hearing “I love you” from my husband or my dad, certainly the kindest thing I’ve heard today, from my old neighbor of several years, is “I knew it had to be from you, you’re the nicest person I know.” So we’re getting money back from the feds and three states, but these compliments are worth a fortune.  Cheers! D&Z

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