The First REAL Snow

The weatherman predicted snow last night, and I didn't know whetherto believe him or not. I did, however, peek out the window when I got up in the early morning hours, and sure enough, it was there. Not just the dusting that we've gotten now. Not feet (or many inches) deep either, but enough to call a real snow. I was sure Canon would be interested, and the evidence of it was little pawprints going back and forth.

Would Miss Caprice be interested enough to get her dainty feet wet? Morning play was a romp through the snow, chasing each other. That pesky Canon got rolled over in the snow by his big sister and didn't seem to mind a bit. He laid under her in the snow not seeming to mind a bit. Canon is used to being on the bottom with a strong female on top.

The play was followed by a snack-- snow!

I like to write about things that make me happy. This was one. On Sunday we hosted a brunch/poodle play date for our poodle friends, Jasper & Roxy and Mr. B. and their people, Nancy & Jeremy and Carmen and Mark. The south sun bathed us in warmth as we watched poodles play and ate.

I've always envied parents, who make friends through their children. We have made new friends through our children, even though they wear curly, furry coats. Roxy is, of course, Canon's sister, and Mr. B was in our puppy kindergarten class at Evi Fox's. All three pups have the same birthdate. The white ones are always thrilled when Mr. B walks into class, and he likewise. The three will also be in the novice obedience class together, as well. Caprice and Jasper formed a "friendship" before the pups were home.

Ahhhh. Dogs!

Night/Morning Reading

It's 1:30 a.m. I can't sleep. The dogs are stretched out between Michael and me, Caprice at my feet, Canon between our heads, feet almost in Michael's face, head at my pillow. He is breathing quickly and loudly. Is anything wrong? I pet him, kiss him, rub his tummy. He groans a bit, slows his breathing, but then goes back to his sleep panting. I wonder if the little wound at his nose is infected. Does he have a fever? I lie there, and lie there, and lie there...

Might as well get up for awhile, I reason. Actually my reason leads me to the kitchen to taste the pineapple cheesecake I have made for my poodle play group brunch in the morning. Back to bed. Still can't sleep. I pick up one of the books on my nightstand, Doug Koktavy's The Legacy of Beezer and Boomer, even though I know it will be a tear jerker, as it is about the author's experiences with the illness and death of his dogs. I cry as soon as I open the book and look at the introduction. I see Ana mentioned, and Julie. I smile thinking of them--just for a moment, because the tears are rolling. By now I am sniffling too, probably louder than Canon's breathing.

Up again for a Kleenex and a good blow. Why on earth did I think I could handle this? I'll write about it in my blog.

I feel my way to the office in the dark, so as not to wake Michael. (How could he be asleep with all this action?) Canon follows me. I sit on the floor and pet him for a short while before I move to the computer, he to seemingly quietly sleep on his pillow, although as I look at him, I see his chest quickly moving up and down. As I watch him, I think of how much I love this fuzzy, white creature, and tears fall again.

The urge to write about Beezer and Boomer is not as strong now. Maybe I'll wait to write more after I read more. If I can read more.

Why I don't like to bake

I enjoy cooking (while not exactly the cleaning up afterwards part), but avoid baking. I finally understand why, and it's pictured at the right.

This was the gluten-free version of Mexican wedding cookies, those rich, little snowballs made with butter and nuts and covered with powdered sugar. The recipe came from our last visit to the St. James Tea Room and the cookies were in our little favor bags that we took home. I faintly recall the chef saying something about if your cookies spread too much, chill the dough. I chilled it for about 10 minutes. (Hey, the oven had been preheating for quite awhile!) The cookies spread, looked unbaked, so I left them in the oven a few more minutes. Not only did we have spread, but overcooked! Darn, I'd been thinking about these cookies since I went gluten-free nine years ago. I thought I'd never taste them again. If I have to depend on my baking, I won't.

Anyway, I'm thinking that with baking, it's got to be near perfect-- there's no going back to fix. If I make a dish, a casserole, a dip, I can tweak it by adding a little salt or season, balancing flavors out. Baking is unforgiving, and I need all the room for forgiveness I can get!

Cream!

I just finishing a cup of Chai, topped with ample whipped cream. I enjoyed it-- enough to want to write about cream. When there's a container of whipping cream in the house, I abandon polite instincts to take a mouthful straight from the carton and hold it in my mouth to enjoy its creamy thickness. (Don't worry, guests, I'd never do this with your cream!) It's not really about the taste, but the texture. For me, the texture of cream gives me comfort- thick, sticking to the walls of my mouth and my tongue, rolling down my throat.

Pumpkin pie is nothing without the whipped cream. Those fancy drinks at Starbucks? Leaving out the whipped to save calories is molesting the drink. I sometimes buy the brand of yogurt that has the cream on top. I eat the cream and give the yogurt to the dogs. Think about your root beer or coke float. What is it that creates that lovely foam? Cream! How do I know that? Homemade floats at Einstein's. Half and half with coke. Ice milk can't offer the silky taste of ice cream.

One of my favorite rock groups in the 70's was Cream.

Cream and dream rhyme. That's no coincidence.

Our book group discussed A Short History of Tractors in Ukranian at our last meeting, not that tractors were the important part of the book. Basically this story about two sisters uniting to "help" their 84 year old father when he decides to marry a 30-something year old "floozie" who is looking for a husband so she can stay in the U.S. There are lots of themes- family relationships, immigrants, history, memories and perceptions, and, yes, even tractors.

I wondered how our discussion would go because our hostess's father, in the same age group as our "hero" was part of our discussion. According to his daughter, he, too, had a "floozie" in his life after his wife died. This was brought up, and I gladly noticed that M did not equate himself with the father in the book, as he shared some of his life, and his writing with us.

The book was a delight to read and discuss in this environment. It was our third "immigrant book," I think, dealing with atrocities in the characters' homelands, but this one was dealt with through humor-- a relief for us all.

All is Quiet

Wendy, Michael's daughter, and her labradoodles, Diamond and Nutmeg, left early Saturday morning and things are exceptionally quiet here now. It was nonstop running around here for over a week. Feeding time was a challenge, because of the dogs' individual needs. Diamond needs a different food, yet she's the one who will eat anything. Caprice and Canon like to nibble from time to time, but couldn't, because their food would be snarfed up by Diamond and Nutmeg.

Caprice, of course, is happy with the lack of activity, however, Canon got up this morning looking for his buddy, Diamond, and sat out on the grass waiting for her to join him. With Diamond here, he had nonstop playing all day long, rather than the morning and evening audiences Caprice gives him. Actually, I think Caprice was thrilled to deal with dogs that gave regard to her growls to stay of the bed or to leave her toys alone, since Canon never does. Nutmeg would balk at entering our bedroom with Caprice on her throne. Diamond was a bit braver.

Things are quieter, and admittedly easier. But I miss them.

Thanks

Of course, the list of things I'm thankful for, not necessarily in order of importance.

-Michael

-My family- That's the newest member on the left- Maxwell, my nephew Philip's and niece Crystal's new baby.

-My dogs

-All I have materially

-Friends

-The Internet- strange, but it's a source of communication and information, as well as the source of some friendships with people I like and respect

-Did I say my dogs?

-Health to to things and exist comfortably

-Being here in this place and this time

-My ability to think- however feeble that may be at times

-The ability to read and comprehend and form opinions

-Having a day to remind myself to be thankful!

Blank?

Damn! I had such a good idea of what to write about this morning-- something I was eager to develop. It's gone now!

Real Men Drink Tea on Their Birthdays

Michael's birthday this year just so happened to be the same day as the gluten-free tea at the St. James Tearoom, so guess where his birthday "dinner" was! We were lucky to have his daughter, Wendy with us, too. It wasn't the regular birthday dinner--sitting on a Victorian-style couch, sipping tea, eating little finger foods and talking with the ladies, but he was charming to all, and, I think enjoyed himself. Happy birthday, Michael.

The menu, just in case I want to remember:

Savories
served with English Breakfast Traditional Black Tea
King Edward's Smoked Turkey Salad
Queen Elizabeth's Asparagus Morsel
Queen Victoria's Fig and Brie
King Richard's Cranberry Refresher
Traditional Tea Sandwich:
Date Cream Cheese & Cucumber

Scones & Bread
served with Pumpkin Pie Scented Black Tea
Anne Boleyn's Fat Rascal with Cherry Preserves
St. James Traditional Cream Scone
with Lemon Curd and Clotted Cream

Sweets
served with Hesperides Golden Delight Scented Green Tea
Prince Phillip's Pumpkin Chai Pot de Crème
King George's Raspberry Chocolate Tart
Queen Margaret's Maple Walnut Crescent

Yum!!!!!

Cleaning Up

The washing machine is running and I'm crying. Doesn't go together, does it? (I think I mentioned crying in my last post. A trend?)

This is a special load. I am washing the sweats that I wore when, sitting on the floor of the vet's examination room, I held Rondo for the last time.

They've been sitting in a corner of my closet since March. Something couldn't let me wash away that living trace of him. I couldn't see it. I couldn't smell it, but he was there, and I remember that time. I have the box with his collar, his paw print, a piece of his fur, but there was a closer connection with this.

Maybe I'm moving on. I miss my sweet, brown boy. I'll always remember our short time together, but it's time to wear the clothes while I'm playing with Caprice and Canon, to have some good times. To keep the bittersweet memories and to make new ones.

Coffee Time

Debbie, Julie, Carol, Janie, Laura

For the past 4 or 5 years I've looked forward to my weekly visits to Starbucks (during the school year) to meet with some of my teacher friends. It started when I was still teaching at Humphrey, with Julie, Carol, and Debbie. The group's composition changes because of schedules and new invitations. Julie had to stop coming when she moved to North Star, as a result of its earlier schedule. My sister-in-law Shari joined us from time to time. This year Delora has joined us. Others as their schedules permit, or if they happen to run into us there. Coffee time has continued through my first retirement, my two years at North Star, and right into my second retirement.

I remember our first coffee when I started retirement (#1). I cried when Carol and Janie left to go to school because I felt so lonely. When I went back to work, I arranged my schedule so I could still meet for coffee on my workday. Now I can sleep later, but meeting the girls for coffee time is more important. I don't mind getting up to see these friendly faces. To tell the truth, I don't even like coffee that much, but I do like seeing my friends in the morning.

Today's coffee was "special." Julie has just gone on medical leave to have surgery for breast cancer. She's scared. We're scared. But today reminded us how strong our bond is. We will all be together again.

Not thinkin' much...

Poodle-Centric Saturday

Canon had a big day and at this moment is sleeping soundly.

First we had puppy class. I was dreading class, as we hadn't practiced. I practically have to wrestle him into a down, and we hadn't practiced recall on a long lead. The worry was unwarranted. We didn't do the down and recall in class today. Canon did, however, do something unexpected. He threw up. I don't know whether it was the exercise- hearing a loud noise and examining the object, or just that he wasn't feeling well. All I know is when I looked behind me there was a pile or undigested dog food. Oh, well, there are worse things to clean up.

His day wasn't over. The Enchanted Poodle Club held its meeting at Bow Bow Blues, a dog store with a nice fenced in area. At least 14 poodles, mostly standards ran loose and played the whole time, without incident. It was a joy to watch! Canon and Roxy, who should have been tired from class, didn't let up for a moment. They played with big dogs. They played with each other. I got to meet some wonderful poodles, who were more interested in my attention that my own dog.

Canon met a girl! Minnie is a silver pup, about a month younger than Canon and Roxy, who will be 5 months in another week. The three pups seemed to enjoy each others' company. Minnie is a marvel, the way she jumps in the air and enjoys herself, holding her own with the big dogs.

I've always wanted a poodle ranch, where dozens of poodles play. This is the closest I've gotten to it!

We ambled and dawdled...

...instead of dashed at today's Doggie Dash and Dawdle sponsored by NMAHA. It was Canon's first big social event and I was very proud of both Canon and Caprice who seemed to enjoy their outing, but maintained very respectable behavior for the most part. Their favorite part seemed to be meeting other poodles near the Enchanted Poodle Club's booth.

They turned especially joyful when they met their friends Jasper and Roxy (Canon's sister). It was obvious the four dogs knew each other by the tail wagging, jumping, and rolling around andplaying done by Canon and Roxy (and I got a nice kiss from Jasper).

In the end, we passed on the official 2 mile walk. By the time it came around, our two pups had strolled and done much visiting, so we took a very limited dawdle up the road and back.

Canon was much admired and both were repeatedly praised for their looks and good behavior. On the way out the visited with Louie Lobo, which Canon took in his easy going way and which Caprice was not thrilled with. It was an encouraging day. My dogs are great, and I'm not the only one who thinks so!

Balance

I just finished making dinner- pasta with butternut squash, onion, garlic, a little Parmesan cheese, toasted pinon nuts, and salt and pepper. I was tempted to add some red pepper and some goat cheese to make it creamy, but decided enough was enough. The flavors were already balanced. While I was eating I chose this as my inspiration for my writing tonight, but I'm really not talking about my cooking.

Balance was always been a guiding force in my teaching. Balance in the types of activities- sitting and active, speaking, writing, reading, listening. I chose to include each of Gardner's multiple intelligences- artistic, movement, verbal, mathematical...

So, the meal made me wonder if there is balance in my life. Maybe it's not there. I spend so much of my time at my computer. Free choice reading is usually mysteries with female detectives. So much of my time is spent with my dogs, caring for my dogs, talking about my dogs.

Is there any balance? When I "create" a dish rather than follow a recipe, I think of a balance of tastes and ingredients. Visually, I think I look for balance in shape, color and weight, which may be why I have so much trouble hanging pictures in my house. Do Michael and I balance each other-- he, the talker, me the listener? Caprice and Canon, black and white.

I'm now on a balance hunt. What is balanced? Where can I add balance? And ultimately-- how important is that balance?

Give me my daylight!

This is very simple. I like my daylight. I like the sun. The end of daylight savings time messes with my life. The dogs get up an hour earlier and want to be fed at 4. Michael, too!) I twiddle my thumbs figuring out what to do when it turns dark. No good TV yet. Too early for me to sit and read. I can't run out in the dark and pick up the day's dog poop. I should have planned for earlier. I don't want to go anywhere.

Be prepared for six months of whining...

Flags

This is a video of the Tibetan prayer flags at the Bone Cancer Dogs Angel Ceremony. There's no action, nothing amusing or terrifically interesting, but meaningful to me or someone who was there. Rondo's name is somewhere after 2 minutes.

Halloween with the Old Farts- apologies to my friends

We've spent the last few Halloweens with our friends, Becky (devil) and John (green hat). We don't do a lot of crazy stuff, but celebrate a tradition of half-assed costumes and an activity.

I dress minimally (costume-wise, not amount of clothing). Michael always suprises me with something clever, but simple. This year he clipped a yellow flashing light on his fly and called himself a flasher. Becky, probably enjoys the costumes the most. My favorite is her granny on the back costume, which this year, she said, had a hole in it.

Our first year of celebration we went to a Haunted House, standing in line forever to get in. One year we carved pumpkins. This year we dressed up and went to see Dracula, The Musical, a campy melodrama where we could hiss and boo and cheer.

We rarely stay up late. We don't get into trouble, and don't even trick or treat, but it's nice to have a comfortable, easy tradition to share with friends--even if we're home and in bed by 10.

Snow, snow, go away/Mini Memory

I am not a fan of snow. I don't ski; I don't like to slide around; I don't like the grey skies, and I especially don't like to be cold. It looks nice. The beauty of a day where the sun shines on clean, sparkling snow is unique. Fresh snow tastes good. It was even fascinating today to watch the big flakes floating down. But snow is a symbol for winter and I just don't like winter. It speaks to me of hibernation and death, things slowing down and stopping, COLD. Let someone else praise the snow. I'll think tropical.

Snow reminds me of December 2006. My mother died right before Christmas. While we were going through this, the Fed-Ex delivery man slipped on my front walk, which I had been unable to clear entirely. The fear of a lawsuit was, of course, in my mind, especially since the man's wife came to our door while I was away, hoping my insurance company would help, since Carlos couldn't work and workman's comp was minimal. Michael talked me into taking the food left at my mother's house to the family. Because of timing and workman's comp issues, Carlos had to wait a week before surgery and the casting of his leg. This was not going to be a good Christmas for his family. I'm so glad we went to meet these very nice people. Everyone is not litigious. People can even be kind to each other in trying circumstances.

I still hate snow.