Boots for walking

Last spring during one of those necessary closet clean out moments, I donated some my boots to the Salvation Army and the rest were so well worn, they had to be donated to the land fill. As temperatures began to drop, absence of boots in the closet reached a point of urgency. I searched the internet and considered purchasing on-line. With my Daisy Mae size feet, shoes and boots should always be tried before purchase. Luckily I returned to sanity before embarking on buying, trying and reboxing for return...or adding to next years donation pile.

My taste in boots has progressed from over the calf leathers with very high heels to a more sedate simple smooth foot with sturdy low heels. No need for the tall uppers since I seldom wear skirts and certainly don't need to tuck in my pants legs. On one of Ol' Abner's recent medical visits to the city, I made a wicked little detour to my favorite shoe outlet to try on some of the footwear previously drooled over on the website. Of course I forgot to print off the coupon from the website. After traipsing around the store wearing one of my selections, I opted to purchase one pair and order a second in the other color on line with the coupon. Now the coupon has expired and the color that was in stock during my visit is back ordered in my size and color. When will I learn to buy when I know I want it? That's probably a lesson already learned...Salvation Army has a store full of proof.

Family Heirlooms

I just glanced at my friends list on Facebook and noticed the section of "family" is huge, and I don't even have all my first cousins listed there. My mother would be so proud. She took such pride in family connections...at times I cannot help but wonder about the wisdom of some of that pride. We do not choose the blood connections. I am one of 19 grandchildren on the maternal line and my mother was one of 19 grandchildren on her paternal connection. In addition I enjoy the relationship of a number of "step-cousins" as my mother's generation resulted in many blended families. I'm not sure anyone else on my friends list shows so many relatives in the "family" section. Not all with familial connection to me have been pulled into that list on my page and I wonder if most people just choose not to use that feature.

Many times I have lamented the birth of Facebook after my mother's death. Her phone bill and postage expense could have greatly been reduced. She stayed in touch with old friends from school and never allowed anyone in her family to loose touch. We lost her in 2000. She had just started using e-mail, and was most distressed if we didn't immediately reply to one of her missives. Many times I would receive a phone call asking why I had not responded to her e-mail, sent nearly an hour before. Did I mention that she hated answering machines too? An hour away from home might result in an overheard comment on my answering machine "they've got that *!*&#*! machine on again", only to see three e-mails; one of substance and two follow-ups.

She was far ahead of her time. Social networking, instant messaging and daily posts on blogger would have opened all new vistas for her...actually she expected that before the technology was even available.

When "DOGS" fly

My favorite form of exercise is a long walk through Dogpatch neighborhoods. Depending on the route I choose, a leisurely stroll on level ground or a quick trot down the hill only to huff my way back up gives the satisfaction needed for my daily mood. Often a neighbor or two will join in, but a chocolate colored labrador retriever is my intrepid companion whether Ol' Abner chooses to come along or not.

Other dogs sometimes join us on the leashes of neighbors and she delights in making friends with any four legged companions. Her friendly social nature will usually win over the trust of these critters quickly. One neighbor resides with a small dog of unknown ancestry appearing to be a mix of a dachshund and a beagle or something with a brindle coloring. She is every bit as social as Belle although she does not enjoy a leash. Gidget will come running out to meet us as we walk by. She will roll and tumble with Belle, then proceed to me to perch in begging style on her hind legs to receive a gentle scratch on the head, then off she runs to play in circles around us.

Gidget is well known around town as Ol' Taxidermist's companion. Riding shotgun in his truck, head hanging out the window as he navigated a turn into a parking lot one day, resulted in a sudden tumble out to the ground. A few months later, she suffered a bout of lyme desease. Full recovery ensued though she learned to scream shrilly if someone touches her or attempts to pick her up against her wishes. When Mountain Girl and a large very old Blue Heeler, Sam, moved in, Gidget quickly adapted and took charge of his habits. She learned to run beside the four wheeler in the woods and refuse to exit a car if the ride has not yet been to her satisfaction.

A few weeks ago, I noticed a tiny carcass of a fawn beside the road along one of our walking routes. It appeared as though the internal organs had been cleared cleanly while the legs, and head were intact and it looked almost uninjured. I commented on this phenomenon to Ol' Abner and he explained the usual process of scavenger birds. Other neighbors mentioned the tiny fawn and a few days later it had disappeared completely. Ol' Abner came in and related a tall tale to me. Neighbor Joe had been watching as vultures munched on the fawn as Gidget irritated them. He said she barked and charged them until one flew up and grabbed her with claws firmly attached to her neck and shoulders. He watched as the creature flew across the street and around a house with a clearly reluctant passenger squirming in his grasp. Horrified he continued to watch the scavengers. Minutes later the sassy little dog came trotting out of the woods to harass the birds one last time, then turn on her heels and race toward home.

We shared the tale with Ol' Taxidermist and Mountain Girl later that day and she observed that Gidget didn't appear to be injured, but hadn't seemed to be venturing out as far as usual. Ol' Abner noted that she no longer followed past the corner where the fawn had lain. I guess that dog DID fly...and no doubt she has at least nine lives.

Avoid the "Poop Vein"

I tried a new recipe yesterday. It was delicious and should have gone together quickly. Instructions called for peeled and deveined shimp. Years ago when living on the gulf coast we frequently purchased fresh shrimp and Ol' Abner (who wasn't quite so old then) was adept at peeling and deveining the critters thanks to a nifty tool he had found. I had purchased some nice looking frozen shrimp of admirable size a couple of days ago and was anxious to combine some yummy sounding flavors. Since the magazine featuring the recipe may not survive the next side table clean-off, it follows here for future reference.

Red Cumin-Lime Shrimp on Jicama Rice

12 oz fresh or frozen peeled and deveined medium to large shrimp

3 tsp olive oil

1 1/2 C chopped yellow onion

1 anaheim chile pepper, seeded and sliced

1 1/2 T chili powder

1 1/2 tsp cumin

1 C hot cooked brown rice

1 1/2 C peeled jicam cut into thin bite size strips

2 T Lime juice

2 T vegetable oil spread

1/3 C snipped fresh cilantro

Thaw shrimp if frozen and set aside.

In a large non-stick skillet heat one tsp of olive oil and swirl skillet to coat bottom lightly. Add onion and chile pepper and cook, stirring frequently til tender. Stir in shrimp, chili powder and cumin. Continue cooking (about 3 min) until shrimp are opaque.

Spoon hot rice into a serving bowl and stir in jicama. Cover and let stand until serving time.

Remove skillet from heat, stir in remaining 2 tsp olive oil, the lime juice and vegetable oil spread. Sprinkle with 1/4 tsp salt. Cover and let stand 5 min to allow flavors to absorb and vegetable oil spread to melt.

To serve, stir cilantro into rice mixture and pour shrimp mixture over rice.

We found this meal delightful since we have a love of flavors from south of the border, especially those healthy dishes featuring seafood. Probably could be 20 min from start to table IF I had not spent 30 minutes peeling and deveining shrimp...not a pleasant chore if you haven't tried it. Oh yes, that tool that he claims makes removal of the "poop vein" so very easy...does NOT.

Huff, Puff, and down we go

It's been a rough couple of months for Ol' Abner. When his surgically improved toes healed, he felt ready to push his feet into walking shoes and enjoy a stroll around the neighborhood. Brown dog was incredibly happy to adopt this old habit quickly. I walked with him and was surprised as he trudged up the slight incline leaving our house slowly. He could barely talk and was gasping for breath. We concluded that he was really out of shape from recent inactivity. A few days and we thought he would be fit and able to regain his past level of walking.

After a few days with no improvement, I urged him to call his local primary care provider. After a few more days of delay, he finally gave up and called. When he explained his problem by telephone, the instruction was to proceed to the emergency room. Feeling as though that was an overreaction he continued trying to push through the huffing and puffing. After his follow up with the podiatrist, I urged him to go ahead and have this problem evaluated. It wasn't getting better and I hoped it might be something easily remedied.

Emergency rooms are seldom pleasant places to spend the afternoon. We felt a little silly as we shared the waiting area with a man denied entrance to an airplane with his red swollen leg, an elderly couple accompanied by a loud daughter thinking she should take charge of the system, and a young man seeking pain medication for his swollen gums. The triage nurse called us in for evaluation and one glance at the intake sheet caused her to immediately call for a technician to come from the inner-sanctum of the treatment area. A snippy young man sitting at a previously empty desk chastised me for not stopping there as we arrived. Ol' Abner's complaint was supposed to be treated as a life threatening emergency. I didn't bother to explain that he had been missing at the time and we had proceeded to the "check in" cubicle. Abner was escorted back and I was instructed to return to the waiting area to enjoy the stares of those knowing their arrival had preceded ours. Meanwhile snippy young man sat at his desk showing the apps on his smart phone to a security policeman as my husband's escort came to the door and said something to him, then pointed to me. Snippy young man nodded and continued his conversation. Another twenty minutes passed and a nurse came through the sliding door and called my name. Snippy barely glanced up as I entered the portal beside him. The nurse thought I had left since the technician had come out earlier to have Snippy young man to send me back to join Ol' Abner.

Ol' Abner was perched on a cot with oxygen on his face, a blood pressure cuff on his arm, leads on his chest, and a pulse oximeter on his finger. The physician had advised him that his EKG looked good, his blood work raised no concern and we awaited the chest Xray. The contraptions attached to his person had indicated that he was not absorbing enough oxygen, thus the oxygen flowing up his nose. We had been there about two hours by this time, and Ol' Abner was lamenting that it would be very late when we arrived home, a rather prophetic observation.

His exit from the emergency room followed a path to an inpatient room for observation and further testing. The chest xray had shown fluid in his lungs and the doctor calmly suggested that he remain for a day or two flush the fluids, determine the cause and plot a course of treatment. He was there for four nights and on the fifth day he was released by a reluctant physician when he promised to return for additional outpatient tests.

Our home in Dogpatch is a little over a three hour drive down the mountain and over a couple of rivers and around another mountain or two from the city. Following his admission to the hospital I drove home over the winding roads frequently shared by deer in the dark of night.

Brother had come by to feed the dog and allow her a minute of outside time, but she was a bit confused when I arrived alone. I packed some clothes and the next morning delivered the pup to her favorite canine bed and breakfast before repeating the previous morning's journey down the mountain.

Congestive heart failure was the final diagnosis. Additional tests indicated that he needs oxygen when exerting himself. A therapist came to the house last week and brought small tanks of the stuff and tubing to attach it from a backpack he can carry as he walks. Today he walked with his pack of oxygen and the dog is happy again.