Here Comes The Sun

As the Beatles sang, I never imagined my life as it is. When my husband is home and we’ve our old dog Zoe I lift her up to the bed at night, all 32 lbs. of her. If the shades are up when the sun starts coming up (in summer before 5 a.m.) she jumps down and becomes UBD.

UBD is under bed dog. She comes to my side so I can’t get away as I am the morning person and food wench, and she crawls underneath our sleigh bed to get her beauty sleep. I don’t know anything that 20 hours of sleep per day wouldn’t cure as she’s gorgeous. In “people years” she’s got nearly 20 on me.

This morning at 6:45 a.m. I felt a paw holding onto my arm. Lo and behold, it’s guest dog L. Zoe was sound asleep on my husband’s pillow. Yes, shades were down halfway so they can see and I protect the art. “Hey, Aunt Dee, get up, I want to go out and have my dinner!”

I got up and took them for a nice walk and fed them then they played and went to separate rooms to soak up the sun (they heard you, Sheryl Crow). Zoe asleep, no sun. Zoe awake, all sun until noon when there is no direct source, only reflected.

Husband will be back this weekend, so will L’s mom to take her home. I was wondering how we would all sleep together but there’s no need. They return on the same day. How’s that for planning?

Our guest, I looked up the breed, is a mix of Borzoi and Whippet. When Zoe and I are alone on a walk everyone pets her and says this Aussie mutt is cute. When we’re with L everyone says “She’s beautiful, what kind of dog is she?” I’m expecting a rush for purebred dogs like L in our neighborhood shortly. Perhaps I’ll stop saying exactly what breed she is.

Now, if a magic elf (not the funny, enigmatic Will Ferrell) could somehow do our taxes all would be well. Cheers from Dee, Z and L

The Best Sound

in the world for me is my husband snoring. If he’s not snoring away, he may be dead. I wouldn’t want that.

The best sound for a dog is that of a stainless steel bowl being placed on the counter and kibble being measured in, plus Zoe’s frozen medallions and the “special sauce” which is a tablespoon of boxed chicken broth.

Zoe stays by me 24/7 but rarely touches me or wants a pat on the head. She loves my baths, rather than hubby’s, because I do more of a spa massage and he does the “manly man” gotta get everything you’ve picked up in the past two weeks.

Now I’ve two. Our guest dog spends a few hours of the day alone, on my pillow or on Zoe’s bed, on the rug at the foot of our bed. At night she sleeps on my husband’s pillow and keeps her face an inch from me. Sometimes she holds my arm or hand. Zoe’s at the far corner of a king bed so she can see squirrels. A lotta luck there, babe, hermetically sealed in here and you’ll never leave my side.

No matter where they are, they hear their bowls at dinner time. Water first, then their individual food in their other stainless bowls. Do they come running? You bet. I’ve made our guest into a chow hound, must be the special sauce. Also Zoe eats in a minute and it takes guest L at least eight minutes so Zoe goes behind closed doors, then I open up and they play, sleep and then go out for a walk.

As an adult human I wish my day were that easy! Cheers, and here’s to coming back to life as a lucky cat or dog with a loving, caring family and not a cabbage or a steer. Dee

Anniversary

Twelve years ago today we adopted dog Zoe, a herder, Australian Shepherd mix, from a shelter. A few minutes on the road she popped out of the cardboard box at just six weeks of age, a 6-pound cotton ball, ready to tear the squeakers and filling out of any stuffed toy, no she does not have any stuffed toys.

Luckily my husband was driving. I tossed the box into the back seat, she sat on my lap and looked out the car window. She’s loved us and “her” car, my car with revved up orthopedic bed and cargo net, ever since. She only pops her head up at off-ramps and stop lights. She knows the ranch from miles ahead.

As she knows home. After two hip removals and growing her own hips, she deserves a home. It was fate that brought her to us. Someone had a claim on her and we were called the next morning and they said the family said no and we were next on the list. That’s why she’s Zoe. She’s an internal fighter when it comes to her own well-being and is so sweet to other dogs, humans, even cats so she’s something special.

Age five months, the cat parade. Me, Zoe, Meow Meow (a feral who had about 12 places to be fed but slept outside our door because as a pup Zoe was going out 8X per day) and a mockingbird who was chasing the cat. Yes, if you’ve watched or read The Princess Bride, Zoe and I were The Brute Squad. I doubt we could have taken Meow Meow’s lunch money….

Over the next few days after adoption we dealt with severe coccidia and hookworms, later I did two weeks of research on all kinds of hip treatments after her surgeon pronounced her, at 25 lbs, the worst case she’d ever seen.

I think she was sent to us for a reason, me to be “food wench” and disciplinarian and walker, and my husband, the long walker and fun guy. We got her hips done and did physical therapy for many months. It was only when she got her paws onto our counter and ate a pound of marinated steak I realized she was OK. Now she’s old and I have to “Otis” her to bed at night.

Congratulations to Zoe for 12 years with a family who loves you. Cheers! Dee

ps Thanks to responsible no-kill shelters everywhere. One of my four was a family “surprise,” a kitten at five weeks that I had for 13 years. The others are all from shelters and even the “broken” ones can make the best companions. Adopt. Spay/Neuter. Train. Love. Those are my rules. D

You say Pot-ay-to

I say po-tah-to. Let’s call the whole thing off.

At 19 I got a college apartment with five other gals. First day I made dinner and said I had to be on a corner because I’m leftie and don’t want to elbow anyone in the ribs. They were ALL lefties. We got our own softball team named Lefties, Inc. and made it to the finals because nobody showed up for our games! Of course I was pitcher.

That first night we found out no-one knew how to cook, anything. I think cereal and milk might have been a challenge. I said they had to learn breakfast, eat lunch at the college cafeteria and I’d make dinner every night.

Caveats were that I would provide a list and they would shop. I would prep and cook, they would set the table, clean up and do dishes.

Then one day three other gals came to live with us (one bulimic, so enlightening to see all the food in our frig going down the toilet) and two guys from upstairs who came over to play Uno most evenings started staying for dinner so I was cooking for eleven with a budget for six. That was probably $60 per week. With the others we stretched it to $120.

I asked the gals to get me a 50# bag of potatoes. They came back and said cans were on sale for $.20 apiece. The list was going to pieces. I decided to drive the cart and the list and they could grab things off the shelves as I called them out. It worked.

We ate simple food. Mom’s pasta with a bit of beef, noodles and tomato sauce, chicken thighs with caramelized onions, occasionally a dessert. I never washed a dish, spoon, pot or pan in that place. They were happy. I was happy.

My mother was not happy because mise en place (everything in its’ place before cooking) allowed me to cook but use every dish in her place while visiting, then I had to clean everything!

Hey, Guy Fieri, when I was 19 I could have excelled at Grocery Games! Now I go daily to a high-end grocery and choose what I want as to what is fresh. Fruits, shishito peppers, lemongrass. And my butchers are beyond compare. Don’t ask, Guy. I’m too old to run with a cart.  And my old dog would have to be outside the window asking for me to be eliminated so I could take her home to Napping Dog Press. Cheers! Dee

Gotcha!

When I met my husband over 14 years ago he’d been dot-bombed, his company laid off over 1/3 of the work force. Last hired, first fired. They actually left “fire staff” as a to do item on a white board then left the conference room open. That made everyone’s weekend enjoyable…..To cut his losses, three weeks after we met he went back home.

Two weeks later he was back and staying with relatives. I found him a home 1,000 feet from mine. He couldn’t visit me (tried once in a Darth Vader voice/mask for dinner but it didn’t last five minutes) because he’s deathly allergic to cats. So I moved part of my kitchen to his place, as I’ve a well-appointed kitchen, then part of my office, then when we eloped, all of me and my stuff. The cat went to live with a Corgi neighbor he loved for years. The Corgi used to put Mickey’s entire head in his mouth, very gently. Yep, Mick did love him. All the dogs used to come by, even run away from home, to see Mick. I’d get a call early morning. “Is he there?” Hold on. Yep. I’ll take your dog inside and watch for your car.

J and I met three weeks after 9/11. He was back on Thanksgiving and starting early January with his new job and abode he liked to come home for lunch. He had an hour, so it was a 12-minute commute each way, lunch, and he’d snooze for about ten minutes while I did dishes before heading back.

One day I was making grilled cheese sandwiches and he walked in and said, “so that’s how you do it!” It was like my college roommates being startled that I could make brownies or mac & cheese from scratch!

The kicker was when I was kind of settling into his kitchen and he walked in one lunch time and I’d been washing plastic zip bags (never those in which meat or cheese were stored) and storing them over the sink and appliances to dry.

We did meet all the parents before we wed but he’d only met my mother at that point. The first thing I thought of was to grab all the wet plastic zip bags and stow them. All that went through mind those few seconds was “what would his mother do?” Well, it turns out my mother-in-law is a salt of the earth, frugal, industrious woman who thinks nothing of re-using things. Phew!

In other words, I did good, and gained a husband for life. He’s with his family, parents and grandmother, this weekend. Sometimes one does the right thing for the right reasons. I washed those bags and have created a food snob. He’s visiting his Nanny. I should say “our” Nanny because after our pre-engagement interview I told her I was so glad the “grands” had a Nanny. I never knew mine, grandmothers or one grandfather. So she offered to be mine. What a kind lady she is. With love for family, spouse, kids, pets and more, Dee

“Sisters”

Dog Zoe and I took on another companion for a few days, a gorgeous American Silken Windhound, L.

There’s a silly song that’s in one of my favorite movies, White Christmas. First it’s sung by Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen, then later in drag by Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye.

They started with mild confrontation, play, sleep, repeat. Then Zoe listened for every possible sound and protected L. Then we went out for a last chance walk before bed.

I have to lift Zoe to our bed because she’s old and has no hips. They slept in the exact same position, eight inches away from each other. If one got up and stretched and changed position, the other would do so. L was propped up against my husband’s pillows and at one point she grabbed my thumb between her front pads and held on a while. Zoe likes the bottom of my husband’s side for the view. Better squirrel viewing.

It was an interesting night, like sisters. Love her one minute, mess with her the next. At least that’s how I remember it. Cheers! Dee

True Grit

Yes, Kim Darby, John Wayne and Glen Campbell. I haven’t researched it but it must have been the breakout film for one of my favorite actors, Robert Duvall. He can also carry a tune.

It was my first time on a plane and first trip to The Big Apple. We went to see True Grit the day it opened on a big screen in Radio City Music Hall. During intermission my sister and I sat in the men’s room “lounge” until I figured out there were all men in there. We were waiting for Dad. Oops.

I saw a bit of it today and remember that trip as if it was yesterday. The big screen was amazing, as are flat screens and we don’t have a big one but do have HD, today.

Two rooms. Overlooking other rooms in a cheap Howard Johnsons near Times Square that was crime central. Three single beds for me, my younger sister, age 8, and brother, age three. He ordered hot chocolate on the plane and took a big gulp. Yes, it was hot so he spewed it all over the place.

It gets better. We lived in a village of 400 people, perhaps 1,000 when college was in session. In NYC my mother was visibly pregnant with my youngest sister. She was taking us on our first subway to see the sights while Dad was working. My brother asked about the “chocolate people” on the subway. Actually, they laughed and gave my mother a seat. We had never seen a Black person and I knew at age ten not to ask. My brother did.

True Grit. Radio City Music Hall. This was 1969. Dad bought my brother, age three, a Brooks Brothers navy suit. We walked by St. Patrick’s Cathedral and my brother told me everyone was looking at him. There were two lesbians 20′ in front of us kissing passionately.

I asked if anyone was staring at them. “No,” he said. “Then why would they be staring at you?”

It was an adventure in all senses, first plane, and True Grit was not age-appropriate for ages ten, eight and three but this trip is remembered and loved. With cheers from Dee.

ps Oh, we’ll have a neighbor joining me and Zoe tonight for a week or so and I’ll need to set up for Zoe’s little “sister,” as they do act like sisters. New dual leash to set up and we tested it last weekend and made modifications in terms of adding binder clips to keep Zoe from taking two thirds of the leash. Our guest has been here several times before so I’ve got the food routine down, if the new dual leash works and I tweak it according to their needs (so they serpentine on a swivel ahead of me, with each other rather than going around me) all will be well. D

pps I usually awaken to a song, in my head. Today it was The Wichita Lineman, thank you Glen Campbell and thanks for True Grit.

Teacher

Yes, that is what I am and have been for years. I would like to give a gift to my nephew. It’ll take a while to put together. Ten recipes with instructions and completed with whatever is needed to finish the dish.

I know that he’s going to be OK but as he needs to eat while getting an education I may have to go to our local university to check out dorm rooms. Plus, he has to wow the girl of his dreams, whoever she may be.

Years ago my father, as a gift, brought a psychic to dinner to read my fortune. She said I was a teacher. I am, a leader, visionary and teacher since I was a child.

Going to cooking school has enlightened me and I worry about college students eating food that is not good for them or their education. Hopefully college moms (hear me PDXKnitterati) will help on this quest. Few ingredients, pots or pans, healthy and fast. No, not just ramen noodles….. Cheers! Dee

 

 

Ingredients

I’ve a bunch of heirloom carrots. Sadly, the refrigerator drawers designed for fruit and veg freeze everything. I’ve even placed kitchen towels on the bottom and placed them at the highest temperature.

Soup is the order of the day. Due to the colors of the carrots it will make an elegant or dismal display. I have to walk to the market today. Will take dog Zoe out for a walk.

I wrote to Cesar Millan today. I know he deals with tough cases and doesn’t like purebred dogs. I wrote him the sweetest story about our 12 year rescued herder, Zoe, Greek for Life. She’s under my desk right now and follows me through kitchen (she’s not allowed in my kitchen except to eat her dinner or drink her water) and bedroom and laundry and office).

Success stories are what I always want to tell. Our Zoe was a mess coming out of the shelter, needed shots, fluids, two hip surgeries. No-one who had spent $75 for a shelter dog who needed a thousand more for hip surgeries and rehabilitation. Luckily, we found her and she found us. She just turned 12 years old and we adopted her that year four days hence. What a wonderful world it can be.

I’m working on my carrot soup but need to take the little one out for a longer walk and we may even see her favorite USPS mail carrier. My old dog hated men and uniforms, Zoe looks for mail carriers pants and wags her tail and greets all. She’s a peach. Dee

 

Life

I’m thinking of a salty, sweet, hot and tangy Udon noodle salad with shrimp. Perhaps for lunch.

The rest of this week will be spent on insurance and taxes. Next week is our future.

As I’ve trouble now and then with my tummy I went vegan years ago and found out what I was allergic to as I re-introduced ingredients. Now, as mostly a meat-eterian (plus starch and veg) I need protein.

Yes, I do always have veg and fruit available, today it’s Jonagold apples, an almost ripe pineapple and red seedless grapes.

Yesterday I cooked up some scallops. Today I’ll cook and place a few shrimp atop my noodle salad with grated carrot and scallions.

As a good cook one must cook for flavor and health. I can’t cook fish when my husband is home and I love fish! He’s so allergic that he can’t handle the smell unless I grill it or buy it cooked. I just can’t eat beef and potatoes all the time.

I’ll eat my fish, but try to keep healthy snacks out on the counter so he goes for them first before raiding cheese and crackers. I’m the wife, the food wench (that’s what he calls me for our old dog Zoe).

I make dinner for all of us. When he starts eating cheese and crackers 15 minutes before dinner my heart sighs. “Do you need cheese before you get your steak with chimichurri?” Much to do today and the rest of the week and we’re taking on a guest tomorrow, for a week. A lot of work ahead so Cheers from Dee