Mutt Day Meditations

For pbird: a likely dog.

Untitled: Karin Wickström

For unlimited mutt day reflections.

Good Lamentations

Good morning my lovelies.

And another huge thank you for yet another gift delivery of another fine lovelies:

The gray ghost in the mirror is me. 

They arrived on a cool, damp, dreary day and immediately injected warmth and happiness into an otherwise not so much that kind of place. Lemon yellow snaps, pink peonies, orange roses, pinky-orange parrot tulips and lime hydrangeas all enhanced with spring greens. You would smile too if you received them.

Unfortunately I have a bit of setback news that I’ve been reluctant to report. It seems that after repeated and more frequent MRIs that all 3 of my oncologists (chemo/immuno/radiation/neurosurgeon) agree that the brain ‘inflammation’ that continues to grow larger with each image is most likely new cancer growth combined with effects of the prior radiation therapy. I am experiencing concerning balance/coordination problems again and have a return of the Frankenstein feet seemingly detached from the brain. I’m taking steroids to reduce the swelling but they don’t seem to be helping with the balance issue much. They have greatly improved my TJM situation and have made chewing more feasible than it’s been for the last year, so there’s that. 

As I haven’t all the details yet I will make this brief and somewhat clinical and report back later when things are more set. We’ve met with the radiation oncologist and the neurosurgeon to discuss treatment risks and side effects, which are significant with either strategy due to the location of the tumor in a rather ‘non-rehabilitatable’ portion of the brain. So, scary, but all seem in agreement that neurosurgery to remove as much as possible is the best route at this time.

So I’m waiting to hear back from the surgeon to discuss scheduling and follow up care. I have a most excellent team of docs and couldn’t ask for any better, still…we wait, but are fine. So please, send nothing other than your prayers, exhortations,

incantations,

and lamentations - always, always, lamentations! The more the better.

And extra butter and jam wouldn’t hurt either.

On The Potentially of Wings, Feathers and Croissants As Big As A House

Today’s post is a Wings and Feather Day post only in so far as an egg had the potential, at a certain point, of developing wings and feathers. It’s really about imprudent buying and consumption, a thing I’ve done much of in my life, frequently at Costco.

Ninja blenders that require more time and effort to set up and decommission than a nuclear plant, enough tissue and TP to stock a half-way house for 2 years. And of course the Costco cheesecakes, key lime pies and pecan pies large enough for a family of 20. Sure, you can portion and freeze them for future use but still…we are but 2. But one thing I’ve resisted until now, for decades, is purchasing a dozen Costco croissants. Not because I didn’t want to: the thought of a re-crisped croissant in the oven and served at breakfast with even more butter and jam appeals to my higher sense of culinary delight more than you might imagine. Which is precisely why I’ve never indulged until now when I came across this decadent masterpiece from David Leite’s Culinaria.

When Costco Gives You Croissants, Make Croque Monsieur Casserole

So yes, I finally did it. I have litte energy or stamina these days but I can still wrap baked goods for freezing and make sandwiches. Raj helped with the rest.

First I made 3 ham (Costco) and baby swiss sandwiches with a dab of mustard; Raj favors Taylor’s hot English which for some reason is no longer available anywhere in this country but as he is a great hoarder we have on hand an imported supply that will last us at least 2 lifetimes, possibly 4. I heated one sandwich in the oven and we split it for lunch; you can do that the croissants are as large as Big Foot’s slippers. It was quite good.

The other three I put in the frig for the next day at which point I sort of made David’s casserole only smaller. I cut my sandwiches in fourths placed them in 2 smallish ramekins, and covered them to soak a couple hours with a custard made with 2 eggs and about 3/4 milk. Béchamel? Two tablespoons butter, 2 tablespoons flour, cook, add I cup warm milk a flick of nutmeg and salt and whisk till smooth and cooked for 2 minutes. Throw in a generous handful of grated Gruyere cheese and mix. When cool, spoon over top of your casseroles and add more grated cheese. Place on foil lined baking pan or you will be sorry. Bake for about 50 minutes until golden brown and puffed.

My mini-monsieurs

Were they good? What sort of a question is that? Of course, decadently so. Too rich for human consumption but so what?  Neither of us could eat more than a half of one but leftovers beacon for lunch, possibly with a bit of warm maple syrup this time. If feeding a crowd, use David’s recipe.

And with that I put to rest to the parable of imprudent purchasing. Simply be more prudent regarding that which you purchase imprudently. Leave the nuclear Ninjas: take the croissants.

Because Life Doesn’t Come With a Guidebook; It Comes With a Mom

"Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall

 A mother’s secret hope outlives them all.”

 

Mother’s Day already? The years tick by at an alarming rate, the universe may or may not be expanding but I know for a fact that time is accelerating. My Mom passed away shortly after Mother’s Day 14 years ago. It seems a trick, as I remember her being here – what - like yesterday?

My mother was wiser than her young strong-willed daughter once thought she was. Much wiser. And as I grew in that wisdom I realized that she remained far wiser than me for all her years. As she approached 90 she determined how she wished to deal with her modest estate – without any counsel other than her own as far as I could tell. Who was I to disagree with a woman who had navigated her life and her family of six children through an early widowhood? Did she do it perfectly? Of course not, we are but human: prone to foibles, faults and failures. Nobody gets it all right. But she did her best and hindsight would indicate she did it well. Six kids, 8 Grands, 9 Great Grands.

So thanks Mom, I pray to be as lucid, focused and wise at the end of my life as you were. And if I am, I owe it in no small part to you.

Because life doesn’t come with a guidebook. It comes with a Mom.

Time Traveling On a Wing and a Prayer

A couple of late Wing and Feather Day entries for your reflection:

1. Get your act together, I’m coming for you at daybreak

2. Your guess is as good as mine, Donald.

Progressive Dog Rules

Dog rules: they’re mutable. Like Democrat/progressive, rules only they make more sense.

Choose to ignore them if you will and everything will turn out ‘mostly peaceful’ in the kingdom anyway.

It might require a few urban redevelopment schemes at taxpayer expense down the line, but then again, show me a progressive rule that doesn’t.

Of Kings and Queens In The Land of Hashtags

What have we here? Dr. Jilly and granddaughter Finnegan Biden at Chuckie’s coronation, “standing with Ukraine” in their yellow and blue. How, um, inappropriate.

But won’t you please enjoy this pathetic spectacle anyway, in precisely the manner in which it should be. Oh, and nice homage to granny’s hair, Finny.

In case you’ve forgotten the last 2 Democrat hashtag pimps for Ukraine. The years march on but the propaganda remains fixed.

Oh, and congratulation Charles. I suspect you might indeed be the last King of England. In the age of Instagram and Twitter world no one -not even the British - still need your ilk. Check out #King, there are millions.

Sing It Or Wing It

I have not quite bounced back following the Norovirus episode after Easter so this will be brief; my small tribute to Gordon Lightfoot. He was an amazing balladeer who wrote magically evocative, mostly autobiographical, songs about life: love, railroads, shipwrecks. He once noted that radio stations preferred to play songs that made people happy rather than made them think but he found a distinct audience that enjoyed both. While people variously attempted to classify his work as folk, pop or country it was none and all of it. He was simply a fine 20th century poet who wrote the words that moved his music and ultimately his fans.

His songs were covered by dozens of the greats and admired by many icons themselves, including Bob Dylan. Gordon always said he didn’t consider himself an icon, although he was, but simply “a hard working musician.”

Anyway, thank you Gordon for a lifetime of evocative songs and memories. Raj and I met him once in the late 60s or early 70s while we were in college. He was known but not yet a huge success, still playing quite small venues. Raj’s friend was his Mid-west concert promoter and got us tickets for the after show party. It was a small gathering where we actually got to talk to the artist. He was just an ordinary guy, normal, down to earth but with a huge talent. His lifelong unassuming countenance put many of his talented but narcissistic, loud mouthed  contemporaries both north and south of the border to shame for their superiority and greatly exaggerated sense of self importance in the world at large.

This is not one of Lightfoot’s  “biggest hits” but it has always been my favorite. It is evocative, emotional, tinged with regret and honest: everything he did so well.

R.I.P. minstrel extraordinaire.

"Your Love's Return"