Tag Archives: dairy farm

Celebration, Sauces and Elevators

Why does this title not make sense? It’s Saturday morning and Zoe the dog and I were out at the crack of dawn and had to ask multiple police to let us cross the street to “make a deposit to the County” and that means her poop in a bag in a wastebasket in a County Park. City Police got the joke.

It is a half-marathon and I spent about 1/2 hour cheering on the runners, with the dog. It was raining and I got soaked so went upstairs, dried her off and changed to a winter coat and helped out the slower athletes. When we lived out west we were five feet from a path that was used for runners, walkers, cyclists and in the winter, XC skiers. I tried that, it was not pretty, especially on ice.

Downloading “We Are The Champions” blasting it and standing out there on our deck waving, cheering and clapping with the dog for the last few thousand feet was inspirational to athletes and to us.

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Sauces. I’ve made three new ones this week, none perfected. One was a rub and glaze for St. Louis Ribs, another for a pork roast marinated in beer and grainy mustard, the last for pork tenderloin marinated in local French-based hard apple cider and herbs. The last was finished with two beautiful peaches, taken off the pit with skin on, 1/4 of a red onion, honey and sriracha. S&P of course.

My husband grew up on a dairy which is now a cattle ranch. He is deathly allergic to anything thats’ habitat is water. I love fish and he can’t even smell it so I don’t cook it at home. He loves beef, so I’m trying to get him to like chicken and pork for variety.

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Elevators. We know everyone on our floor. Interesting that we only really socialize with those on our end, three of seven. When I am in the elevator and hear someone turning a key in their door I automatically keep the door open for them. Sometimes they will enter and other times they’ll say they forgot something. That may not even be with Zoe.

They do not hold the door for me, someone always closes the door on me (I don’t know who it is) and I have to wait, especially if the other elevator is reserved for a moving company.

Where did kindness go? I always hold a door, elevator or otherwise, for everyone. I help elderly people, pregnant women, mothers with kids, even young men who don’t have the manners to respect their elders. Luckily there are a few gents around who know propriety and respect.

What is happening to us? I’ve one great story. My across the “street” neighbor saved my dog’s life. Their grandkids adore our old dog. We hadn’t seen each other for months. We talked in the hall. Zoe, our dog, stayed out there and I had her leash. The elevator door hard-closed and my neighbor was gone and I tried to throw the leash out because she could easily remain in the hallway until I could get back up there.

The leash stretched and stretched for four floors and disappeared. I yelled at our floor. “NO!” An Indian family we love showed up four floors down and saw me sobbing and said they’d take the other elevator and to go up to my dog.

I was expecting to see her dead. Strangled. My neighbor ran out and pulled the leash as hard as she could and was standing there with our dog who was alive and well and didn’t even know anything happened.

What a treat it was to see my neighbors and their grandkids, who love Zoe and actually whisper her name outside our door so she can come out and play. My husband has also made/twisted balloons for all the kids. Zoe came out of a horrible home and then a shelter, only for a week until we found her.

She has made so many friends. People on the street don’t know my name but they know hers. Our thanks go to neighbors who made a difference in our lives.

Thanks to neighbors. Cheers! Dee






I lived above a dairy farm as a kid and am still in touch with the two families who owned it. We had great birthday parties there, competing for the best hay fort. That’s when they made small square bales, not round ones or what we call “marshmallows” that are wrapped in plastic.

There is a quality in a human being that comes from growing up on a dairy, now ranch. The hard headed-ness and attention to detail and driving, driving, driving everything is hard.

My husband is that man and we both effect change and that bothers the people who hire us to do so because they think they want it, but do not want to live through the change to achieve their objectives, mission, vision. I’ve retired from working for money but still effect change and work to help my husband do so as well.

One of my favorite homes is tearing down its mainstay, where many US Presidents and others have spoken and countless musicians, dancers have performed. It is and should be a national historic site. My dad saved it 35 years ago with other historic buildings for eight million dollars. Now they want to tear down one historic structure and add more seats for thirty million.

I worked there for years. My father was the president. One is supposed to be uncomfortable in the wooden seats where I sang Panis Angelicus in the County vocal championship in fourth grade. Second place.

There are fights that need to be done, and those that must be left alone. Change is a scary thing in any endeavor. When my husband, in a job interview, says dairy he’s usually hired on the spot. Before we married I asked what he did on holidays, family traditions et al. He said he milked cows.

He brought me to meet his parents. I used the guest bathroom at about 5:00 in the morning and unfortunately turned on the light. There were nine bulls staring at me from 15 feet away and they thought I was his father coming out to feed them. Those glowing eyes freaked me out. That’s ranching. Have a great day! Dee