Fuzzy Memories

 If one purpose of a blog is to record events and memories from our lives, it occurred to me that perhaps I could list all the animals from my life.

Childhood: (anything non-dog is a cat and those listed together were with us at the same time) 

Watson (beagle) & Albert, Weatherby George Dupree (English setter) & Minnie,

Mosby & Tammy (gold cocker spaniel), Keetie (parakeet)

 

Adulthood: 

Ivy & Imogene & Howard, Calvin & Coolidge, Satchel & Sidney, Mamie (Coton de Tulear)

 

Grand-pets:

Daughter : Savannah, Sophie, Dusty & Marvin & Bowie (golden retriever)

Son : Yeti & Blue

 

          I was too young to remember Watson or Albert, but I have clear memories of how often I had to bring Weatherby home from my elementary school one block away. Mosby was a dim-witted cat who I think was taken from his mother too young, but our cocker Tammy took on the role, often dragging him around by the scruff of his neck. Fine, except when she’d decide he needed to be downstairs and you could hear his empty head going thump, thump on each stair.

 

          Ivy used to follow us around our city block when we’d go for an evening stroll. Howard was a little psychotic, but loved me deeply and used to look into my eyes and pat me gently on the face. Calvin was loyal and true, and was close by my side during my first small brush with cancer. Sidney, who usually brought us snakes instead of mice, would probably have shown more personality if he hadn’t been overshadowed by Satchel, the alpha.

  

        Satchel deserves his own paragraph. He knew the sound of my car and would come running when I arrived home. He loved a good game of fetch with a wad of aluminum foil, and once chased a fox away from the yard when I was sitting outside. Never have I met an animal with so much personality. I still miss him.

          And sweet Mamie, the one dog of our married life, came to us when she was five. After being a cat person for so many years, I still worry about some of the mistakes I might have made in caring for her, but I think she had a good life with us.

 

          People in my life have often disappointed me, but outside of the occasional hairball, rarely an animal.

 

Snippets

 

Yup, still here. And it’s not as though there’s been such a cavalcade of events that I’ve been too busy to post. Although there was that thrilling trip to Costco to re-stock our Glucosamine, and perhaps I could have written about how often I’ve been out to sweep the common hallway due to all the leaves blown in by the wind.

 

     

    

We did see a production of Christie’s “The Mirror Cracked” in Sarasota. It was a bare-bones set, but the cast was good.

On a trip to the ladies’ room I was most impressed by the creativity of whoever does
this sort of thing at the theater itself.

Oh, and the next day’s review in the paper left me grinding my teeth. At a dramatic moment in the play, a huge stage light (it was probably cardboard – the real thing would have left a hole in the floor) crashed down in a murder attempt. The little chippy who wrote the review pointed out that in the 19^th century such lights didn’t exist. I’m not sure what century she thinks she’s living in, but Christie wrote in the 1920s. Editors, where are you?

 

On a walk around the complex, I usually pass someone out with their dog. The other day I ran into a gentleman whose dog I recognized, a tiny white poodle. “That’s Lucy, isn’t it?” It was, and we chatted a bit while I patted her. I noticed she had on a tiny harness I hadn’t seen on her before but didn’t comment on it. The harness proclaimed her to be a ‘Comfort Dog’.

First, I doubt if it was necessary. Residents of our little complex are unlikely to interfere with her onerous duties as a comfort dog.

Secondly, do others see the label and wonder what it is about the owner that requires the emotional backup?

A neighbor I spoke to about it snorted and said, “Fake. They just have that so they can take the dog wherever they want.”

 

Last night I put the chicken casserole (fabulous recipe from Peg Bracken – chicken, artichokes, mushrooms) in the oven at 325 instead of 375 and we headed to the beach for sunset.

The gulf is only about 4 miles away, so we could leave at 5:40 for the 6:15 sunset. After the chilly weather we’ve had, 60 degrees felt balmy. Except the already windy conditions intensified as usual on the water, and I found myself wishing the stupid sun would hurry up and clunk down like a cartoon.

Incredibly, there was actually someone out there paddleboarding.

 

Almost parallel universes

 

          Here we are in the ‘sunshine state’. And sunshine we’ve got- plenty of it – but last night’s forecast included snow for parts of Florida.

Familiar Skills

          Last night was dinner out – not in an exciting-culinary-kind of way, but just a gathering of fellow residents contributing to the meal.

          I didn’t have much else going on, so I decided to make bread.

Holding Pattern

        I should be writing. Scads of time, but I’ve only achieved seven chapters so far and the procrastination is growing by the day.

Snowfall to sunset

        I remember Mama recounting tales from the days when we lived in Amherst, Massachusetts. I was barely there, being only two. My father was teaching at University of Mass – Poly Sci I think – but only briefly, before we all moved to Arlington, Va. after he was hired by CIA.

Food Fun

 

We’ve had a couple of Aldi food stores open our area. WinnDixie finally conceded the supermarket title to the omnipresent Publix, but apparently WinnDixie were bought by Aldi, who are now almost as ubiquitous around here as the big P.

          You can’t really go there with your full shopping list in your hand, but it’s fun if you like treasure hunting for bargains. And finding anything name-brand is a challenge, but I did snag that old standby Campbell’s tomato soup for 99 cents a can and then later saw it at Publix for $2.09.

          And I’m broadening my horizons

There was a row of mysterious brown root vegetables:

          Okay, yucas I know.  

         

And these apparently are balanca malangas.

  

      

And at first I figured the store was stumped here, just writing “name”.

 

But after looking it up later, I learned the
'name root' is a form of yam.

       

   But Whoa, Mama! Just look at this egg price.