Sunday, March 17, 2024

The Great Stuffie Laundry Round Up



You're not taking Gumby.   He's Green, he's exempt from washing on St. Patrick's Day.

Friday, March 8, 2024

On Invisibility



When we were kids, we used to talk about what super power we'd like to have if we were a Comic Book Hero.  Strength would be good, but I'd be constantly breaking things.  X Ray Vision? (the human TSA scanner - no thanks).  I never thought the one I'd get was invisibility.

One day you're walking down the street, and everyone wants to say hello, be your friend, hear you speak (or just chat you up), and the next the mailman doesn't even make eye contact.  You realize that you are what you always labeled anyone over 40 when you were that kid.  You're OLD, therefore invisible. You are that library no one visits, that painted landscape of experience and color that no one looks at because they're all too busy taking a selfie or staring at their phone.

But I'm OK that that.  When the world isn't clamoring for your attention, you are free to step back and truly see it.  See it in the quiet hours of domestic life that are marked, not by a time clock, but by the shifting of light and shadow on ancient oak. Hear it, in the grace of stillness that lingers between walls that have known multiple lives and loves. 

There's that sense of time lost, but only in those changes, the loss makes in the course of our daily thoughts that can be felt in vague yet poignant moments of remembrance.  We remember those that have gone before, their breathing no longer in our power, but the memory as steady as always.  For, with aging, not only comes responsibility but loss. Suddenly, for myriads of reasons - fate, illness, accident; the people around you, as reliable as the sunrise, leave, insensible to your pleas to stay, 


But being invisible does have its perks.  I can watch the world as it does not watch me back; finding humor in the mundane, shaking my head at others so obvious to it all, their passive insensibility as the caffeine wears off interrupted by slight convulsive starts as a new text comes in, such as may be observed in a dog having a dream on a hardwood floor.  At first that sense of unwanted solitude is disconcerting, but then you realize how much you are truly not seeing, the stroke of a brush on a canvas, the launching of a thousand boats, the sound the tide makes as it retreats to the pull of an invisible moon.

After an errand that took me into the city, I walk down to the lake, before it gets too dark to be out alone.  The setting sun sets a metallic tinge to the waters as it begins to set, taking the moment to gather gold, the gold one meant to secure, but squandered, the gold that is promise, too soon forgotten, the gold worn on the left hand, enduring when all else was lost.  People think the clavicle is the most delicate bone in the body as it's so commonly broken, but to me anyway, it's the lacrimal bone, a small and incredibly fragile bone the size of the little fingernail, found at the front part of the medial wall of the orbit - its main function is to provide support to the structures of the lacrimal apparatus, which secretes tears.  



In my pocket is a small stone, gathered at a beach in Northern Indiana on one of the last outings to the water with Barkley.  I'd collected several, one of which looked to be an ancient seashell, found there on the shore of a lake 1000 miles from an ocean, that now lay upon a shelf by my bed.  I stand there at the water's edge, for just a moment as if separated from the world, the heavens, earth, and the very water next to me, swallowed up in a thick veil of gathering gloom.  As I clenched that stone as hard as I could, I breathed out the name of that black dog, into limitless space, sure of being heard, instinctually sure that the plaintive hearts of small children, grey-muzzled dogs, and a lone woman, are heard. 

As I feel the wetness on my cheeks, I guess I should just be happy my lacrimal bones are intact.  

I toss that small stone across the water, hoping to see it skip. only to watch it plunge into the darkness.  Next came a small stick, which freely made its way out into the depths of the lake growing small and indistinct in the near darkness.  Where would the currents carry it, north, south?  No matter how long I stand, patiently, watching the gleam and spark of the waves as the sun sets, that small stick will not return. It is as lost to me as the stone, just taking longer in its leaving. 

Some would look at my countenance and just think "old woman" yet in my eyes is a gleam of surprising intelligence that looks at the world gravely, wide open and steady as if facing something invisible to all other eyes, while I stand straight, unconscious of myself, yet aware of the power I still had in my hands.  They are hands that have held the paw of my best friend as he left me, hands that have sawed through the human breastbone to take a measure of a heart.  Hands kind, capable, but not to be trifled with.


A storm is coming in, that time of year when you don't know if you'll get rain or snow, the temperatures in the high 60s yesterday and in the 20s today.  In the distance are long flashes of vivid lightning, interrupting the short bursts of annealing day, the thunder speaking in the tongues of the gods.  It's best to get home as the sound of traffic floats out of the great silence that is water as big as an ocean.

Arriving home, I'd watch the news, but I gave away my TV long ago, preferring the vast library of books behind leaded glass a hundred years old.  Besides, I'd need to don my rescue dog's "Thunder Shirt" to listen to the news any more.  

I let our rescue Lorelei out, her grabbing and shaking her favorite toy while I quietly watch smoke from the neighbor's chimneys spread the thinnest of veils of haze over the neighborhood. No one pays any attention to me, despite the green "scrub" pants, bright red coat, and orange hat (intuitive color coordination apparently another superpower I lack).  

An ancient tea kettle shrills its warning, and soon we are back inside, Lorelei riding her escalator up into the house, her tail waving like a Nascar flag as she rides past the finish line, where she can snoot the latch open and walk into the house.  Coat and gloves off, it's time to be savored over tonight's book. I gather the makings of the tea, my soul's task as focused on those simple tasks as anything I do, but that is just how I am.


I curl up with an old favorite. Joseph Conrad's story "Youth" - an old man's story of his perilous experiences as a young seaman on a storm-wracked coal liner. Having always been a headstrong girl, taking on one dangerous job after another, I empathized with what he said. "I remember my youth and the feeling that I will never come back anymore, the feeling that I could last forever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men".

If I had the chance to be 20 again I wouldn't. Time and memory are what has made me who I am. Events in my life, even the ones I'd rather not repeat, all served to awaken within me a stranger who was strong enough to survive it, to grow, becoming someone forged new, honed sharper, and stronger. I've moved past the deception of Conrad's youth, to a place where my soul is still, my heart is full and when I leap from a runway with the wind in my hair, I know I will not live forever on this earth and it doesn't bother me, it just makes me treasure what I have

I go to sleep with a clear mind, having given up alcohol or anything that dulled the senses years ago, preferring life lived sharp, like obsidian, not fragile as shale. Earth, the waters of the lake, and the sky are all wrapped up in deep sleep as am I.  It is a sleep peacefully oblivious to wealth or misfortune, friends, or enemies, yet eternally aware of that empty spot by the window illuminated as the lightning flashes where an invisible black dog stands watch into the invisible night.

 - LB Johnson

Monday, March 4, 2024

Simplifying Chores - Labrador Style


Mom - since you're going down to the basement freezer to get more dog treats, I suggest this bag to bring them back - it appears to be empty. 

Friday, February 23, 2024

Happiness is a Warm Cookie

Look closely at the photo----------->

Someone was trying to quietly raid the homemade cookies.

This picture made me smile as I looked through some old photos of my childhood home here two years after Dad passed at age 102, and my brother and stepbrother passed as well.  This was taken in the house I grew up in shortly before I got married 10 years ago.. On the wall was a platter that my Uncle the Boeing engineer brought back from a business trip to Iran back in the late '50s or '60s.   He had told my Dad that it was a serving plate, covered with olives and all sorts of tidbits and they gave him the platter as a gift.  I went to snap a photo and only after enlarging it, did I see someone in the kitchen pilfering a cookie.

As is often the case, when I went to visit,  Dad only had packaged cookies from the store, made out of special Keebler Kevlar, so I usually made a batch when I popped in for a visit, and cousin L. always brought a big bag up when she visited.

On the trip the photo was taken, Dad was a little low on chips, sugar, and real butter. so for this recipe I added in some sour cream for moistness, and a hint of cardamom and orange zest to accent the reduced dark chocolate.  It made a soft, almost cake-like cookie that Dad raved about.

2 cups flour
1 and 1/2  tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
pinch of sea salt
1/2 tsp cardamom
1 tsp. orange zest (the finely grated outer peel of an orange)
1/2 cup butter, gently melted so it's mostly liquid but not real hot
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup sour cream (not "lite")
1 cup dark chocolate chips.

Preheat oven to 375 F.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper (or grease it well, even if non stick).

In a large bowl, with a hand mixer, cream together the melted butter, sugar and vanilla until smooth. Beat in eggs and sour cream until well blended.

Sift together flour, baking soda, salt, and cardamom, stir into the butter mixture. Mix in the orange zest and dark chocolate chips.

Drop dough by heaping tablespoons 3 inches apart on cookie sheets. Bake 13 to 15 minutes, until lightly golden brown. These will be soft, lightly colored cookies so do NOT overbake. Let cool on wire rack

That trip, Dad didn't get a fancy platter, but after his late afternoon snack of cookies, he did get a small martini and both remotes so he was a happy man.

Good memories. 

Friday, February 9, 2024

Room Service Please

After 45 mph winds, 57 degrees, and a couple severe thunderstorms yesterday we settled in for the night, just Lorelei and I, as my husband was out of town on a business trip. Lorelei, usually napping in her crate after dinner, came into the den where I was on the computer, nudging me repeatedly. She already had her snack (4:00), dinner (6:00), and her non-fat Greek yogurt treat (7:00 after she goes out to potty) - what did she want? Something was wrong. I went into the living room- her crate bedding was ALL bunched up, the bottom of the crate uncovered. Waiting patiently while I crawled inside, not fun on the knees, and adjusted the bedding, a thrift store washable quilt, an ortho pad, and her pillow & favorite stuffies; her tail WAGGED as I finished. As I stood up - she wagged once, then promptly went to her OTHER dog bed and fell asleep. She was probably mad that housekeeping didn't leave a mint on her pillow.

Monday, February 5, 2024

Attention Burglars -


Dear Burglars - 

Forget the alarm system that will alert the police, We have a large fluffy dog that sheds furiously and you are wearing dark clothing.

The Residents

Saturday, January 13, 2024

Dog Days of Winter


The food lady is out - must stay vigilant.
I knew if I waited. . .
Enjoy it Larelei - the 8 inches of doom and gloom forecast turned out to be about 3 inches total









Time for breakfast Dad!
Mom;s Scottish Pancakes (known as dropped scones) Syrup on Dad's and Jam on Mom's.





Saturday, January 6, 2024

Lorelei Lab says - Round and Yellow is Good!



 Woke to the first real snow of the season. A good day for aebleskiver (Danish Pancakes). I don't make them often but since my husband shoveled our walkways and the elderly neighbors', I wanted to surprise him. This is the first time I've made them with sourdough and they turned out better than I had hoped for. But first, a ride in the doggie elevator out to the back yard for some playtime.

If you can find a cast iron aebleskiver pan, get one.
.
Sourdough Aebleskiver (low sodium and regular instructions provided)
In large bowl blend
1 cup milk, replacing 1 teaspoon of milk with apple cider vinegar or lemon juice and let set at room temperature 5 minutes.
1 cup active sourdough starter (mine today was made with whole wheat pastry flour from Bob's Red Mill)
2 eggs (beaten before adding)
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 stick unsalted butter melted and cooled for a couple of minutes before adding.

In another bowl mix:
180 grams unbleached flour (roughly 1 ½ cups)
3/4 teaspoon reduced sodium Himalayan Pink Salt
1 Tablespoon Hain Sodium Free Baking powder (or 2 tsp regular b.p.)
3/4 teaspoon EnerG Sodium Free Baking Soda Replacement (or ½ tsp regular baking soda) Blend wet and dry ingredients just until mixed, (may be some small lumps).  Heat the Aebleskiver pan until hot (about 10-12 minutes - a drop of water on it should sizzle) and give it a quick spray with non-stick spray (I use an organic Olive Oil one) or brush with a pastry brush with melted butter. Then using a teaspoon, fill the depression to no more than 1/8 inch below the rim.  As soon as the Aebleskivers begin to bubble around the edges, use a wooden skewer, knitting needle, or sharp edge of a knife to flip them over half way, letting the batter slide around to fill in the bottom of the cup. Continue cooking, turning the Aebleskiver again to let the batter fill in the remainder of the sphere and continuing to turn until golden brown all the way around and cooked through.



NOTE: plan on totally murdering two or three before you get it right, have small bucket handy to remove the remains. 

As far as temp, my 80-year-old gas stove has two settings, not warm enough and surface of the sun hot, so I have learned to just adjust between those settings.  For those of you with a modern stove, aim for medium heat, around 325 degrees.  Place in a clean town in a bowl and keep covered to remain warm as you cook the rest.  These freeze well. 

 Serve with powdered sugar, butter, and lingonberries. Or do what my Scandinavian Mom did and put a little piece of apple in the center as it cooks.

Makes about 3 and a half dozen with the pan I have; they freeze really well if placed in a sealed container after cooling completely.
Lorelei Lab says:  Round and yellow is good!

Sunday, December 24, 2023

You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch. . .


 When Dad cuts a piece of homemade brownie and doesn't give you one. . . . (make sure you have your sound turned up)

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Looking Back

Our wounds, we wear like temporary garments until they are forgotten, 

but our stories, we don them as forever.

The Book of Barkley

Wednesday, December 13, 2023

Favorite Foodables - Lasagna Buns

The "Porkinator" - Sausage Lasagna in a bun (easily cuts in half or doubles)

Lasagna ingredients (minus pasta) in a bun. This was a HUGE hit with my husband, though people will sort of look at it initially and go. . .

What???
But after they taste it. . .

You will need:
1/3 of a jar of store-bought pasta sauce (roughly 1 and 1/4 cups of sauce))
1/2 of a roll of Jimmy Deans SPICY breakfast sausage (sage flavor would also work)
1 heaping teaspoon chopped garlic (fill that puppy up)
4-5 slices (ahem) of chopped bacon

Mmmm. Bacon. (but you can substitute veggie "meat" easily in this recipe).
Cook meat and drain fat:

Stir into sauce and add:
1/2 tsp oregano
3 dashes of Jane's Krazy Mixed Up Salt (or your favorite mixed salt, I like Jane's as it's low sodium due to the addition of lots of herbs)

Simmer just until it's bubbling.

While the sauce heats up, in a bowl mix:
1 cup grated mozzarella
1 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/4 cup Parmesan

Set aside about 1/2 cup of that mixture

To remaining shredded cheese add:
1 cup of ricotta cheese
1 teaspoon of egg (white and yolk mixed up and measured out, save rest for breakfast)
1/2 teaspoon dried parsley
a pinch of cayenne
Mix well.

Get 4-6 bratwurst rolls or other larger sized sturdy sandwich rolls and scoop out the middle third (save that for meatloaf later), leaving enough at the bottom so that it holds together, like a sub-shaped bread bowl.
Place a big spoonful of meat sauce inside, top with a couple spoonful's of the cheese mixture, leaving a little open space for the sauce to bubble up through. Place in a cooking pan or tray that you've lightly sprayed with non-stick spray.

Cook in preheated 350 F. oven, covered lightly with foil for 20 minutes.

Remove foil, sprinkle with cheese you set aside and bake another 4-6 minutes until cheese on top melts.

Monday, December 4, 2023

Smiles for the Coming New Year









Hoping all of you had a wonderful Holiday season and hoping you will all have a great New Year.