Christmas peace

Ah, but that it would be so. Peace, like the kind I have today, here, in my home with Henry. With my family nearby. With Ed nearby. With friends just a Zoom call away. Peace at breakfast, with soft music playing. Peace on the balcony as birds fly in for their meal. Many of them. Finches, chickadees, a solitary dove. I've only ever seen mourning doves out in pairs. Why is she on her own? She stays on the balcony the longest. She watches others come and go.

 

Henry is at my bedside at 5:55. I put him off, but of course, but it's Christmas morning and you know how young ones are about waking on this day. Alright, Henry. Out we go.

The star shines brightly over our world in the early morning. My regal pup properly takes in the beauty of it all.

Inside now, we pass the lobby tree.

And then we come into our apartment. Surprise! Santa made an appearance for you, Henry Bean. Because you've been such a good dog! 

On my breakfast counter, the amaryllis has flowered! Overnight. Like some kind of Christmas prophecy, if you're one who things in those terms. My own thinking is that it was good planting timing, but mostly it was just plain luck. So much in life is just plain luck.

I cut a slice of stollen. I'm glad I have it because lacking a childhood of holiday traditions, I like to borrow those of others, and I think in Dresden Germany pretty much everyone has a stollen on their table this morning, in the same way that there was herring on most tables in Poland last night. Maybe next year I'll search out a good herring to bring for our Eve dinner, though it wont be as delicious as that which you can buy from some known fish vendors in Warsaw.

I return to my yule log project. And I just have to laugh. I tried to time this well, so I forced myself to bake the cake yesterday. It needs to cool thoroughly. I should have filled it last night, but I was just too tired after our celebrations (and my writing about our celebrations). This morning I unrolled the roll and noticed the cracks. I waited too long. By the time I prepared the filling (cream with orange peel), the sponge cake was there in pieces before me. I may be able to save it with frosting. Maybe. I could bake another this morning, but I am not that ambitious. Let's hope for that Christmas miracle to repeat itself. Or, let's just hope for luck.

 

In the late morning, I take Henry for his exercise in a dog park. At the last minute I decided to drive out to Indian Lake County Park. For variety. Like Prairie Morraine, it is about a 16 minute drive, though in the opposite direction. Unlike Prairie Morraine, this one is unfenced. It is up to you to keep your dog (reasonably) near you.

Nothing about this "adventure" was great. Well, with the exception of watching Henry run across the fields -- I always love that. It makes me feel like I have given him his freedom to fly on his own. even as he has the safety of me to come back to. (I imagine Henry had plenty of freedom on the streets of Dallas, Texas, only there was always the fear of not finding shelter or food or safety from those who could harm him.)

 

 

 

 

 

What went wrong today? I think the better question is -- what was enjoyable? 

His romp.

I cant think of anything else. The temps are hovering just above freezing, but it is unpleasantly chilly. No sun. A breeze that bites. We've had several days of up and down weather, so right now the snow is nothing to write home about. If you're dreaming of a white Christmas, let me assure you, a green one is better than this half and half: half mud and half ice. Henry got plenty dirty. I had my shoes with cleats, so the ice was manageable. The mud was just unpleasant. 

There was hardly anyone else there, which is a shame since Henry gets a better workout if he runs with other dogs. When a large family did show up with two dachshunds,  He chose this day to bark his head off at all the humans. No sweet words worked on him. He was like Marley in the book (or movie) Marley and Me. Completely without impulse control. My non aggressive sweet tempered pup sounded like a Hound of Baskerville. 

After one and a half hiking loops  (which are strange there, as some of the trail requires you to leash your dog. Nothing changes in the terrain. It's all open field. And yet. No one does it, but still, it's a bizarre walk) -- or some form of looping, I decide he's had enough and I head back toward the car. Because there is no fence, there is no signal for the dog to come to you for the last leg to the parking lot (and highway!). Henry, being in his own bubble, decided to explore the field that abuts the highway instead of coming right away on the recall. I understand this: typically I tell him it's time to go, but I give permission for one last big run. How was he to know that running toward the road was about the worst thing he could do?

Luckily, I put some oomph into my call and indicated that treats were involved, so he changed his course and came flying to me. In early training, you should never "punish" your dog by restricting his freedom or making him do something he does not want to do after he comes galloping to you on command. The last thing I cared about then was proper training. I snapped on the leash and we walked peacefully to the car.

Of course, looking back on that walk, I can reflect on the fact that Henry did nothing wrong or unpredictable. A group of strange people coming at him always sets him off. Except for the final recall, he tracked and followed me properly throughout. The mud? Not his fault obviously. 

With kids, I always had the belief that if they are to misbehave, it's better that they do it when they are still with you so you could guide them to better decisions. I suppose when Henry barks, it's an opportunity for me to teach him better manners. Far worse is the situation where he never sees strangers and therefore I maintain peace, with him, with my environment. Indeed, if I were seriously attacking the issue of barking, I'd get a string of people to come to my apartment, one after the next, so that he would learn that we can be safe even in the presence of others. Still, it's Christmas Day and if there is to be a day when you seek out peace, it's now. It's written into the songbook! Our walk was only modestly peaceful. Hey, at least he did not venture out onto the lake itself, which has thin ice and is terribly unsafe even for a nimble guy like Henry.

 

At home, the birds flood the balcony...

 

 

I return to my yule log. The one with the cracks in the bark, such that the filling is oozing out in the most unattractive manner. You know, I have made this yule log for Christmas since I clipped the first recipe out of Gourmet Magazine in 1988. I was a mere child of 35 years then! (I now use a second one out of the 2004 Bon Appetit magazine), and I have never done this stupid wrap in a damp cloth overnight before. All my yule logs have been just fine. All 37 of them. This one? Uff! 

Let's see if the ganache frosting can fix things. 

(all that's missing is the powdered sugar sprinkled lightly over it) 

 

Alright! If I never mention the cracks, they wont know. So the smaller limb can't be positioned to stand upright, so what! And in any case, their heads will be elsewhere. Christmas is about many things. Yule logs are a wee tiny fraction of one meal, that's all.

 (my daughter's cheese trays are legendary)

 

 

 

And speaking of the meal -- this will be the first Christmas dinner not cooked by me. My son-in-law has taken on the entire project. He created the menu (mushroom soup in honor of my Polishness, followed by a British inspired menu of a salmon platter, and a rack of herb-crusted lamb with duck fat roasted potatoes) and he'll do the cooking. Amazing for me. I can sit back and be a grandma, the type that nods her head and pretends she hears what the kids are saying!

 

 

 

 

 

He pulls it off beautifully! 

(a thank you hug)

 

 

The evening is splendid! The parents are probably exhausted (so much work!) but I have to think in a good way. We all had a fabulous Christmas. 

 (the two big ones are explaining the purpose of Slime to Ed; he's not buying it)

 

 

The kids are happy. I'm happy. Henry's happy.

Right Henry?

 

I hope your day was spent with loved ones, or thinking about loved ones, or making plans with loved ones. I hope you found a pocket of joy somewhere in there. And that you felt the peace that we all crave.

with so much love... 

Christmas Eve and A Comedy of Errors

Good morning all! To those who celebrate Christmas, or at least like Christmas and enjoy some of the traditions associated with it -- may your day be happy and bright. I walk on a cloud of clichés. Jingles in my head, wedged there by hours of listening to the radio in the car.

The day dawns with no particular glow to it, no brightness in the way you might understand it, but what is brightness anyway? My Henry greeted me at the usual hour, with his usual eager tail wag and lick of my hand. Eventually, the sun came up, albeit behind clouds. Bright is a state of mind, not a meteorological term. 

A photo from our early morning walk, taken inside this time. For your holiday viewing pleasure.

 

 

 

Like so many of you, I have a lot to accomplish today. It seems that mainly I need to undo mistakes made earlier. 

But first, breakfast.

And a Henry hug.

Or two.

Or three.

 

 

 

And at least a listen to the King's College service (Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols), broadcast live here at 9 a.m.. Did you know that  370 million people listen to this worldwide? They say that even some climbers of Mt Everest tune it. I didn't know you could get good reception up there, but I suppose if you climb high enough you're going to pick up signals.

As many of you know, I am not a church person. This isn't the time nor place to explain my worldview (some of it may be gleaned from the pages of my memoir, Like a Swallow, which you can still buy and read if you're the curious type), but we are on the the day of Christmas Eve, so it's hard not to mention religion or tradition, or to not address the question of why on earth I would listen to a service all the way from England, given that I do not attend services here, in my own backyard.

Someone noted that listening to this broadcast is a way of connecting to those you love, and I suppose there is some of that for me: typically, my daughters listen as well, so we form a triangle of listeners, separated by distance, by age, by many things I suppose, but not by a love of sharing something that is beautiful, even if it has a different meaning for each of us.

 

And then I begin fixing mistakes.

First, the birdhouse saga. My balcony is a mess like you wouldn't believe. That's because after getting a visit from a couple of house finches when I put up the faulty smart bird feeder (do not get a BirdBuddy, no matter what the NYTimes Wirecutter people say; get instead the way, way cheaper HiBird Pro, though this one, too, has its faults, which I will note later), I had to keep supporting those birds with seed, even though I no longer had the feeder (I sent the BirdBuddy back to Slovenia, or actually Amazon, so perhaps a landfill). I put seed on the table and now every inch of the balcony floor has seed on it.  

Today I begin a new chapter in my learning about birds: I put up the HiBird Pro. 

The installation is straightforward, in part because I already know a lot about smart bird feeders. And immediately I get message after message that there has been a visitor to my feeder, and another and another. I see that I will have to figure out how to turn off notifications, otherwise, my devices will drive me nuts! Still to solve: cut back on messages, clean up balcony.

 

Now, surely you remember my other problem? The one where I only realized two days ago that we do not have a second fondue pot even as I am to make tonight two fondues -- one with meat, the other with cheese?

Hours of searching finally got me to order one from Home Depot (online) and another from Walmart (also online -- neither place had in-store sets). Both promised delivery today, though with a note that it may be late. As in -- after dinner. Home Depot then retracted and pushed it down to late December, so I ordered a back-up from Amazon. This one too promised December 24th, but it also said by 8 pm, which is a nonstarter. 

Maybe you do not know this, but when you order a fondue set, you do not get any source of heat with it. That has to be purchased separately. Finding one that can be delivered in one day is a whole other bag of trouble. Especially when you do not really know which heat source is appropriate. Online descriptions do not tell you this. I located one that claims it's for fondues, so it might work, and Amazon promised it for a delivery last night, of all things! And it came last night. Except it came not here, but to the farmette. Maintaining two addresses for our one Amazon account has turned out to be a huge issue. Confusion abounds. Needless to say, I have to make a trip to the farmette today to pick up the fuel cans for the fondue set that I may never receive on time. 

My hopes were still with Walmart, until I saw the message today: my fondue set will come today to 1313 John Q Hammons. Damn! I remember now that early on, I had an order from Walmart -- of a photo I needed for Ed's birthday -- and I inadvertently put in that very address. I don't live at 1313 John Q Hammons. One of the digits is off in that address. The photo went to the conference center across the street from me. And now Walmart auto-filled this second purchase from them to that wrong address. The conference center is of course closed today. I tried going to the connected hotel to ask them to keep an eye out for this delivery, should it come, but Henry hated the floor there (yes, he is fussy that way) and refused to go in. Or at least to venture off the patches of carpet by the doorway. So what are the chances that I will track down this second late-arriving, wrong address given, fondue set from Walmart? Pretty slim.

All this nonsense is using up precious time -- time I need for baking for tomorrow's Christmas dinner. And here's the question: should I grate the fantastic Swiss cheeses (Gruyere and Emmental) for the fondue that may never happen?

 

In the meantime, Henry and I drive over to the farmette and pick up the fuel cans and Ed. I need to give the pooch a good run today. May as well go to the dog park next to the farmette (let's just call it Ed's dog park), which actually is a fine idea, because Henry loves Ed, and I have human company for my walk.

Henry is really feeling active today -- he has a lot of energy! -- so we make two loops.

And it is beautiful. Especially since we are wearing shoes with cleats so chances of falling and breaking bones are slim.

 

Now comes the Christmas miracle. Or two. Or three. Or maybe it's that there are often good endings to stories that start off looking like we're headed for a fiasco the size of a watermelon.

First, and least importantly, my birdhouse is not only up and running, but, too, it is beloved now not only by the house finches and chikadees, but also by a tufted titmouse (if you trust AI) and a mourning dove (I could recognize that one any day).  I've cut off the notifications, but I also understand that there's such a thing as too much of a good thing. The smart feeder takes a photo every time a bird moves on it or to it. That makes for a lot of photos to delete at the end of the day! 

The second miracle is one that really leaves me deeply satisfied. Apparently FedEx noticed that the address is nonsensical. They called me, I corrected it. Their response? Great! We will deliver it to the corrected address the next business day! So, two failed fondue deliveries. 

But there is a third.

And the third was placed in the proper place in the delivery room today at 2 p.m. You gotta love Amazon at times like these. 

There will be cheese fondue tonight.

The third miracle? Well, life in general. Dinner with the young family, watching the kids get more and more excited -- all that makes this day special, even to people like me who pick and choose traditions associated with Christmas. But then, don't we all pick and choose how to behave, what to give of ourselves, how to react to events as they unfold? 

Christmas Eve dinner.

A tray of cheeses...

 

 

 

Three is the magic number tonight. Three happy kids...

 

 

 

And three fondues, with the cheese one bubbling in its amazing little red pot. (The other one has broth for the meat dippers and also, thirdly, for the salmon chunk dippers.) Boiled potatoes, a salad, bread. Sauces for the meat. All there, in place. No fiascoes. Only deep satisfaction that it all came together in the end.

 

 

 

And three desserts that will probably carry everyone through the New Year!

 

 

 

I stick around to take their traditional Eve photo. In matching pj's. Goose included.

 

 

The two big kids console my Henry. Do you wish you had doggie pajamas as well? (I think we can all guess that Henry, while appreciating their empathetic kindness, would politely say no.) 

 

 

I leave them to their cookies for Santa. And dental floss. Sparrow read somewhere that you should leave Santa some dental floss. To keep that chuckle healthy and bright.

 

Thank you to all who have read this far. You are truly good souls, I'm sure of it.

with so much love... 

best guesses

It's the day before Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about... Henry.

Henry came to live with me on October 19th -- memorable because it was the day before Ed's birthday and our "anniversary." I knew so little about this dog. I read and reread the shelter's description, latching onto their assessment as if it was the ultimate wisdom about this life that would suddenly be my responsibility. "Good with kids." "Crate trained." "Shy initially, but affectionate once he knows you." "A playground rock star!" "Active but with a good 'off' switch." And that's all that they told me. I based my decision on it and on a visit with him Just five or ten minutes, but he seemed, well, calmly friendly. Not shy with me at all. 

They were correct in four out of five assessments. That is amazing, given that he'd been there for just about a week and had had no foster parents before to really get to know him. The streets of Dallas, to shelter, to another shelter, to my home. I wish I could reward the staff of Shelter From the Storm for all the wisdom and care they bring to their work with abandoned animals.

They did get the "crate trained" bit wrong, but I think I contributed to Henry's anxiety about the crate by leaving him in it too early, when he wasn't at all ready to be left alone anywhere. He panicked and though the crate stands open in the spare room, he wont go into it for anything. The blanket inside is snuggly and eminently chewable. He wont even look at it.

Which makes the "playground rock star" assessment extremely important. Doggie daycare has saved me, and more importantly, it has saved him. He is intensely happy there. It is his safe haven away from home. And it is, I hope, the portal to ultimately making him comfortable in other settings away from home. I wish I could reward the staff of Happy Dogz for all the wisdom and care they bring to their work with dogs.

*     *     *

Henry overslept today. Up at 6:45. Normally I would be thrilled, but today I knew that I would have to whiz through the morning routines. Like one of those vinyl records that should be played at 33 rpm but you put on 45 rpm to drive yourself crazy.

It's inching up to be an above freezing day. Snow, what little is left, looks like it wants to slink off into the sunset. It's seen better days.

When kept to a schedule, Henry is extremely efficient with his outdoor business. I had thought that a big dog would require long walks, twice a day. And here I am, never venturing out for long walks with him. Not even once a day. He gets his exercise at dog parks -- where I suppose I do walk, albeit far from his side --  or at day care. This is a little dictated by where I live. There is so much salt on sidewalks abutting commercial buildings that I feel like we're walking on hot coals every time I stray from our apartment complex. Walking a dog in the winter here is just plain awful. And of course, it's hardly enough exercise for him. This dog needs to run!

I wish I could reward the animal rights advocates who pushed for dog parks in our county. They are not a panacea for every dog out there (a pooch really needs to be good at canine signals to fit into the rough and tumble of a dog park), but they have saved Henry from a destructive boredom. Especially because Henry lives with just me. I am not nearly interesting enough for him to keep him stimulated and happy. 

This was something I learned in my months with Henry: the fewer people you have in your household, the easier it is for you to focus on caring for your animal, which is great, except that it is then also harder to keep your animal stimulated and engaged. 

 

 (my wee pup!)

 

My daughter's dog, Goose, has three kids, two cats and two grownups to track. Unpredictable movements, lots of interesting sounds -- he is so stimulated that he, in fact, likes to retreat into a rest quite often, just to shut off all that is around him. Henry? Well, me sitting with a book or at the computer is about as boring as it gets. I am so grateful for the floor to ceiling windows in the apartment's bedrooms. Henry loves to sit by them and watch the action outside. There's really not a whole lot of action outside, but it's better than staring at me reading. 

*     *     *

Yes, breakfast too is rushed today. 

(for once, the grocery store tea roses are a real winner...) 

Back in October, I found a place that would bathe Henry on short notice. After his life as a street dog and then a shelter pup, he needed a bath. I asked how often I should bring him in -- they suggested every month or so. Since then, he had to have another bath when the vet recommended it for a parasite he had picked up (he's been clear of it for a while now). Today then is his third bath, over at EarthWise Pet, where the dog bathers are genuinely sweet to the dogs, and good at their job of getting them bathed, dried and trimmed (for Henry, that's just nails), and back to you in an hour's time.

*     *     * 

One of the challenges for me is living in an apartment with an elevator and having a shy-with-strangers pooch to transport in it several times a day. It is especially hard to juggle him and carry all the things I need to take down to the car with me. Today I was overloaded with foods I needed to bring to the farmhouse (think: pot of soup), in addition to the usual doggie treat bag, purse, camera and today -- also my laptop. Usually I hand out treats when Henry "hangs back" in the elevator when the doors open. Today I just hoped we would not pick up additional passengers.

I realize though that I am working against the grain of Henry's instincts. Elevators are crazy things for dogs who aren't comfortable with the sudden, crashing appearance of strangers in their close space. The door opens and you peer to see -- am I safe? Or will someone come in to attack me and my human? Sometimes I think I ought to just ride up and down to get him used to the unexpected. At other times I can't wait to move to a place where there will be no elevator.

 *     *     *

His appointment is at 8 in the morning, which gives me a chance to sit at the coffee shop next door and think some more about Henry Bean.

I pick up a bathed Henry. His coat always glistens -- he's just your shiny dog! -- but after a bath, it really sparkles! I watch other dogs walk in for their appointments. Some of them are shaking out of fear. I wont say that Henry comes in tail wagging, but he is quick to settle once he smells the familiar. The bathing person said he was reluctant to walk over to the tub, so she picked him up (!!) and put him in it, and then he was just fine. I cannot believe any person of regular stature can pick up Henry! 

(done! clean and beautiful, my sweet pup...)

 

 

Our next stop is doggie day care. I ask the staff there -- can I go get you some Clasen's cookies or danish or treats for the day? As a thank you for all that you do for Henry? She tells me -- please, no more cookies! We are flooded. Maybe some healthy veggies?

*     *     *

I stop at the farmhouse for a short while. 

(shorts weather?)

 

 

My food delivery for Ed. A brief visit with him. He's off to play pickle ball at the senior center. A new activity for him and of course, he immerses himself in the ins and outs of it, as only Ed can. 

Pick up mail. Pick up my original fondue set for the beef. Print out recipe for cheese fondue. I am still hopeful that there will be a fondue pot delivered tomorrow, albeit the Home Depot Store backed out of its promised timely delivery, and Walmart said theirs would come before 8pm tomorrow, which will de quite funny, as we will have finished dinner by then. Just in case, I ordered one more from Amazon -- it appeared out of the blue on their site, with a promise of an arrival tomorrow. By the time I am done with all this, I will likely have three extra fondue pots, all delivered too late.  

*     *    *

More errands. For a person who did her shopping early and all online, and who really dislikes driving (so boring),  I am spending my last possible shopping day... shopping. Or perhaps the phrase errand-running would be more apt. I counted up NINE stops I had to make today. All that time in the car! I switch back and forth between radio stations and though I generally like holiday music, I feel like that person who works in retail and has to hear the loop of holiday songs all day long. One more round of White Christmas or Jingle Bell Rock and I'll shut the whole music operation down until December 2026. (Though I do like my quiet jazzy stuff at home and these days, instrumental numbers really are just about perfect.)

So where to? Well, let me just list these ridiculous run arounds: 1. To the pet grooming service, 2. To doggie daycare where I drop off Henry, who unfortunately cannot go to any of the shops with me, 3. To the farmhouse as noted above, 4. To get gas, 5. To drop off an Amazon refund of scotch tape, as it went to the farmette and I needed it at the Edge, immediately, two days ago, 6. To the pharmacy, 7. To pick up a bakery item at Bloom's for Christmas breakfast -- a stollen, made by a person who spent a lot of time in Dresden Germany. This bread-cake is actually protected by EU law so I'm not sure we can keep calling something baked on Monroe Street in Madison a Dresden stollen, but for now, no one is suing, so there you have it. Fun fact: did you know that this yeasty cake is supposed to represent a swaddled baby Jesus? Okay, back to my list, which is getting increasingly less interesting: 8. To the grocery store that promised me that they have plenty of prepared veggie trays. I lectured myself going in: now Nina, dont get impatient with the crowds, the lines, the ridiculousness of this whole project. The people love your dog, just remember that and keep smiling. In the end, contrary to what I was told, the store (Metcalfe's) had not a single veggie tray left, but they had a fruit one with chunks of cheese added to it and I figure that would temper the cookie munching just fine. And the clerk at the register was so fast that I worried she may have a cardiac event by the time her day was done. 

If you wanted to count the Clasen's cookies I delivered to the management at the Edge, I guess I would call it an even ten stops on today's list.

*     *     *

A black-capped chikadee and a house finch are vying for access to birdseed on my balcony. I have to say, birds seem to me to be very territorial. Like cats, only higher up.

*     *     * 

As you may recall, I found myself buying a winter coffee cup. I had an excuse -- my sheep mug cracked, the handle fell off. I needed a replacement. It struck me that a winter or even holiday dish would also be nice. On the one hand, I am not at the stage where I want to acquire stuff, on the other hand, there was a super sale at Crate & Barrel and the dish was at such a low price, and, too, the store was selling ornaments, at a discount, and I thought it would be terrible to let the year pass without adding a dog ornament to the tree.  

The plate and tree ornament came today. 

 

 

A Jewish friend told me that reindeer on a plate or a card is messaging Christmas in the extreme, but I am adopting what I imagine to be the nordic position: reindeer are animals that live in the Arctic regions of the northern hemisphere. That they happen to be trimmed with red on my plate speaks to the fact that we need a little whimsy in the bleakest days of December. And January. And February. I am not putting this plate into storage after December 25th!

 

Nor am I putting away this Kindle cover that arrived today, despite the wreath on it. It has a dog that's nearly the spittin' image of Henry on it!

*     *     * 

Evening. Time to pick up Henry. You're with me, my sweet pup, for five days straight. I promise I'll have you run every day. I even bought you Purina Pro Puppy Sport chow, because I think you would qualify, as the French would say -- as a sportif animal. I may no longer be an exceptionally sportive woman, but hey, somehow we manage! Right my Henry Bean?

(underneath the Christmas tree...)

 

 

with so much love...

 

lost to the world

I really do not like finishing a good book. I hugely do not like finishing the sixth and final book by an author whose work carried me through most of December. Where do I go now to lose myself to the world? Oh, and to top it off, I finished the dog puzzle, so I no longer have pieces of this pooch or that one to look for. No funny and clever book, no poochie puzzle -- is it time to face the reality of the everyday? So long as there's a Henry to come wake me in the morning with his gentle and wet snout, I will not complain. Too, I haven't run through my list of stupid (but not totally asinine) holiday movies yet, so there are plenty of hours to indulge my inner escapism.

But back to Henry: it's just at freezing this morning. You can tell, right?

I am very glad I live in a place that strictly enforces clean-up-after-your-pet rules (if they find your animal's excrement anywhere near the building you get fined $300 -- they use DNA testing to prove who is the culprit). There's nothing worse, aesthetically speaking, than the sight of melting dirty snow and ancient mounds of dog stuff on the ground. Here, people are scrupulous! It's much more pleasant to greet the morning without the strips of grass looking like a public loo for pooches. And it's easier to walk your dog too. I remember when I lived in Poland in the 1960s and had to walk the family dog in the month of March. I hated it. The city of Warsaw at her worst, before the rains washed things up a bit. 

Here, I do really love going out with Henry. And I hope one day I will calm him down enough so that he wont have to bark at approaching strangers. (Luckily there aren't many approaching strangers before 7 a.m.)

Breakfast. Still finishing up the book. Winter gives us permission to read more. What's there not to love?

Ah, Henry! I'm coming over for a hug and a snuggle. 

 

In between the delightful stuff, I spent hours, hours searching for a fondue set that wouldn't break the budget and, importantly, could be delivered before Christmas. Putting in a search of "fondue set near me" yielded bizarre results, but I pursued every single one of them. It's my fault, really, for not thinking of it sooner. We do fondue on Christmas Eve. Everyone has their traditions and this one has been ours for decades, even though it makes no sense -- beef, on the day you're supposed to eat none? 

I have an old trusty fondue pot, but last year I bowed to the pescatarian among us and bought cheeses for an additional cheese fondue. Unfortunately, there was no second workable fondue pot, so I'll admit that this was just one big disaster. I had thought that the absence of a second pot had been remedied. I don't know why I thought that. Last night it struck me that I should ask. Nope, no second pot. Why didn't I check earlier? Because I was too busy reading books and doing jigsaw puzzles. 

I called every imaginable place that might carry such pots and I visited in person Macy's, Target, Sur la Table, World Market, and Michaels -- this last one only because it was next to the World Market. Sold out everywhere. 

The Home Depot website (but not the store) had a cheap one that they claimed could be delivered on the 24th. I ordered it without any confidence that it will come on time. So I ordered a second one from Walmart -- also with a promise of free delivery by the 24th. I'll let you know which, if any of those two big box stores will meet their obligation. I do not want to waste all that Gruyere and Emmentaler. 

And yes, I went shopping for cheeses and potatoes and other such accoutrements, trying not to think too much about the possibility of a second Eve of failure. 

Do you wonder why I felt that it was imperative for me to lose myself in my novel after my mad shopping dash? Henry is in doggie daycare of course. He is not welcome in Macy's, Target, Sur la Table, the World Market, or Michaels and certainly not in the grocery store. Sigh... this isn't France, Henry. Besides, you still tend to bark at strangers. It tends to wreck people's holiday cheer to have a big dog (and I mean big) bark in a deep baritone voice at them. You're no soft soprano, you know.

Other ambitious projects? Well, I vacuumed the balcony. You should see the mess the birds made out there! And I have a message for the bird store that sold me a "clean seed brick:" it's not clean. I see sunflower seed shells. Birds do not eat shells. Even I know that.

On my way to pick up Henry, I stop to say hi to the young family, back from their family trip to visit other grandparents. 

And I pick up a joyful Henry. He is the last one to leave (sorry, Henry!), so I have a few minutes to chat with the daycare staff. The way they talk about my pup is just so heartwarming. I know they love him. I can see that. Henry's circle of love is widening and that makes me so happy.

(am I the only one thinking that the couch is getting to be too small for Henry?)

 

And all is good with my small world again. Just Henry and me, and a pot of simmering veggie soup on the stove.

with so much love... 

 

hello winter

Sunrise in Madison Wisconsin is at 7:26 a.m. Sunset comes at 4:25 p.m.  This is our "shortest" day of the year, though you probably know enough to understand that minutes don't tell all, as, for example, yesterday's sunrise was also at 7:26 and sunset at 4:25. But the sun is with us for one second less today and so we have ourselves a winner: today we turn around and start the march (more like the slog) to spring!

Henry, this is your first winter solstice. Let's celebrate in our own way: how about greeting the sunrise from Squirrel Hill?

 

 

 

My pup, my prince... 

 

 

No squirrels today, but Henry does dig up a dead mouse. Which reminds me that I haven't done enough training on the new commands. Like "leave it!"  Workin' om it!

 

 

 A breakfast of oatmeal. Doesn't that seem more seasonal than granola? 

 

 

 

Good morning, finches! 

 

 

 

Henry, are you checking my email? 

 

 

 

Oh you sweet, loving dog! I'm so glad you like winter. I do too, you know. At least at its beginnings! 

 

 

 

I was to have a quiet day with Henry. No family, no Ed. But we changed things around a bit because I needed to make a delivery of Christmas stuff for friends of his, and so long as I was doing that, Henry and I may as well go for an off leash walk in the dog park close to the farmette. Ed comes with us. Henry is overjoyed.

 

 

 

 

 

There is almost no one else in the park. Why? Because everything is frozen solid. If yesterday there were rivulets of ice, today there is one huge sea of slipperiness. I have studs in my shoes, Ed has ice cleats and so we manage just fine. Henry is nimble and delightfully unbothered by it. 

 

 

 How he stays upright is beyond me. But he does. Fast as the wind!

 

 

The one bad fall we had was Ed's and it was not his doing: a big dog rear-ended him. Possibly not able to stop himself, he barreled into Ed and toppled him. We think Ed did not break his elbow, but for a few minutes we were not at all sure of this.

Ah, but it was a glorious walk anyway. So much so that we did the loop along the perimeter twice.

And then it is time for me to get home. So that I can finish my puzzle. Yes, my life seems very dog themed right now. 

 

 

 

Good afternoon finches!

 

 

A wintry welcome to the new season. Icy and cold. Not for long though. On the second day of winter I'm shedding my spiky ice shoes and reaching for anything that's good in mud. 

with so much love...