Diet

It's not easy sleeping with a 26 pound cat. The space Gato takes up in our bed is exponential.

Why do we share our bed with this feline behemoth, when we have an array of less obese cats to choose from?

The answer lies in Gato's new diet. Gato is one miserable cat. The least we can do is let him enjoy his favorite space, our bed.

His troubles began a few weeks ago when our vet gave Gato an ultimatum. Note, I did not say the vet gave us the ultimatum. The vet and we have been working hard for years to control this cat's diet... to no avail. So Gato was told directly - lose pounds or be diabetic.

"You're going to be eating in your own private room", the vet told Gato, "and you'll get one can of fat-be-gone cat food per day. Don't plan on helping yourself to your friends' food dishes, either, because there will be no more open dish feeding at your house."

The trip back from the vets was uncharacteristically quiet. Gato got home and threw himself on the bed.

At this point I cannot report any dramatic diminishment of Gato's girth. I can say though that we are having a bit of difficulty watching Netflix on our tiny PC after turning in for the night. Gato is slightly larger than the dimensions of the screen.

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Diet

It's not easy sleeping with a 26 pound cat. The space Gato takes up in our bed is exponential.

Why do we share our bed with this feline behemoth, when we have an array of less obese cats to choose from?

The answer lies in Gato's new diet. Gato is one miserable cat. The least we can do is let him enjoy his favorite space, our bed.

His troubles began a few weeks ago when our vet gave Gato an ultimatum. Note, I did not say the vet gave us the ultimatum. The vet and we have been working hard for years to control this cat's diet... to no avail. So Gato was told directly - lose pounds or be diabetic.

"You're going to be eating in your own private room", the vet told Gato, "and you'll get one can of fat-be-gone cat food per day. Don't plan on helping yourself to your friends' food dishes, either, because there will be no more open dish feeding at your house."

The trip back from the vets was uncharacteristically quiet. Gato got home and threw himself on the bed.

At this point I cannot report any dramatic diminishment of Gato's girth. I can say though that we are having a bit of difficulty watching Netflix on our tiny PC after turning in for the night. Gato is slightly larger than the dimensions of the screen.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment

Chickens

The hot item on President Bush's European trip last week was the chicken washing issue. The European Union is in a flap about our method of washing chickens (dead ones, I presume) in chemicals. This news item instantly brought back happy memories for me.

One of my favorite jobs was being the "Children's Programmer" for a library. I got to create or choose all the programs for the kids. Without a doubt, the best and most popular program I ever dreamed up was the chicken washing program.

At that time my friend, Donna, was the poultry Superintendent for the Wisconsin State Fair. She was on a one woman crusade to educate urban children that the fair was more than the midway and endless junk food.

One day Donna was telling me how the 4H kids get their chickens ready for the prize judging, when, presto, an idea clicked in my brain. Why not invite the 4H kids to the library to do a summer program on how they groomed their animals for the fair?

I might note that for space reasons we did all our library programs in the City Hall basement. The looks on the aldermen's faces were priceless when the chickens began arriving at city hall with their proud owners, water buckets, shampoo and blow driers.

The 4H kids were true pros at chicken wrangling. Our kids were mightily impressed with the knowledge and poise of their country counterparts. A few of our city kids even realized that there were interesting worlds they knew nothing about. And, we got through the entire afternoon with no wayward chickens ending up in the Council Chamber... at least, none of the avian variety.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment

Chickens

The hot item on President Bush's European trip last week was the chicken washing issue. The European Union is in a flap about our method of washing chickens (dead ones, I presume) in chemicals. This news item instantly brought back happy memories for me.

One of my favorite jobs was being the "Children's Programmer" for a library. I got to create or choose all the programs for the kids. Without a doubt, the best and most popular program I ever dreamed up was the chicken washing program.

At that time my friend, Donna, was the poultry Superintendent for the Wisconsin State Fair. She was on a one woman crusade to educate urban children that the fair was more than the midway and endless junk food.

One day Donna was telling me how the 4H kids get their chickens ready for the prize judging, when, presto, an idea clicked in my brain. Why not invite the 4H kids to the library to do a summer program on how they groomed their animals for the fair?

I might note that for space reasons we did all our library programs in the City Hall basement. The looks on the aldermen's faces were priceless when the chickens began arriving at city hall with their proud owners, water buckets, shampoo and blow driers.

The 4H kids were true pros at chicken wrangling. Our kids were mightily impressed with the knowledge and poise of their country counterparts. A few of our city kids even realized that there were interesting worlds they knew nothing about. And, we got through the entire afternoon with no wayward chickens ending up in the Council Chamber... at least, none of the avian variety.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment

Patience

Patience was on sale the other day at my Goodwill Store. This "patience" consisted of 4 inch tall wooden letters P.A.T.I.E.N.C.E mounted upright on a wooden board. Apparently someone had given up on patience.

I'm not surprised. The virtues in America have been shifting around. When I was a kid, patience was a virtue and greed wasn't. Now greed is the virtue (as in "be patriotic, go shopping") and patience is relegated to thrift stores.

I am old fashioned enough to think that patience is still worthwhile. And I'm also introspective enough to know when I have it and when I don't.

My patience is endless for listening to my very elderly friends in nursing homes repeat the same stories scores of times. An interesting phenomenon happens when you hear a story many times... in a way it becomes yours, too.

So I can tell you about Mrs. B's amazing barn cat who actually dipped its paw into the bowl of mushed up bread and milk and daintily ate with its paw - just like a person.

Unfortunately, my patience checks out instantly when I see a recipe with more than 8 ingredients. I do love to cook, but I'm the queen of quick in the kitchen. I am delighted, however, that other people actually have the forbearance to make the recipes in Gourmet Magazine. I promise endless praise and appreciation to anyone who invites me to dine on the results of these intricate recipes.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment

Patience

Patience was on sale the other day at my Goodwill Store. This "patience" consisted of 4 inch tall wooden letters P.A.T.I.E.N.C.E mounted upright on a wooden board. Apparently someone had given up on patience.

I'm not surprised. The virtues in America have been shifting around. When I was a kid, patience was a virtue and greed wasn't. Now greed is the virtue (as in "be patriotic, go shopping") and patience is relegated to thrift stores.

I am old fashioned enough to think that patience is still worthwhile. And I'm also introspective enough to know when I have it and when I don't.

My patience is endless for listening to my very elderly friends in nursing homes repeat the same stories scores of times. An interesting phenomenon happens when you hear a story many times... in a way it becomes yours, too.

So I can tell you about Mrs. B's amazing barn cat who actually dipped its paw into the bowl of mushed up bread and milk and daintily ate with its paw - just like a person.

Unfortunately, my patience checks out instantly when I see a recipe with more than 8 ingredients. I do love to cook, but I'm the queen of quick in the kitchen. I am delighted, however, that other people actually have the forbearance to make the recipes in Gourmet Magazine. I promise endless praise and appreciation to anyone who invites me to dine on the results of these intricate recipes.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment

Youall

Try as they might, the likes of Wal-Mart, McDonald's and Starbucks have not succeeded in obliterating all the regional differences in the United States. Even though every town in America has its predictable landscape of chain stores, observant travelers can still find many things that don't remind them of home.

Hot dog buns come to mind. Every Midwesterner knows that hot dog buns are split on the side. Imagine my surprise when I bought a package of hot dog buns in a New England grocery and discovered they all looked like little canoes. Time spent in the region revealed the brilliance of the top split bun. It can be stuffed with lobster salad, shrimp salad or clams and the aforementioned will not fall out onto your lap. I would love to see this regional product go national.

The South has a reputation for relishing its regionalism. They love their eccentrics, mint juleps, bourbon and regional authors.

I love the South, but do have a problem when I visit. After placing my order in a Southern restaurant, I had a waitress look at me and say, "Honey, I didn't understand a word you just said." Everything down South moves a bit more slowly, including the words.

Regional differences in the West are most apparent in traffic issues. Want to make yourself the instant center of attention? Just venture off the curb at any unsignaled pedestrian crossing out West. I had no idea I could bring all traffic to a screeching halt by merely putting a toe in a crosswalk. Where I'm from, this courtesy is unheard of. Just yesterday I was trying to cross a busy street without traffic lights. Scores of cars just whizzed by me. I dashed for my life when there was a break in the traffic. It's a predator-prey type relationship here.

I, however, become the menace when I drive out West where the stoplights are on the FAR side of the intersection, not on the corner where you actually stop the car. We midwesterners might be a tad tough on pedestrians, but we don't put stoplights where you aren't supposed to stop.

And could someone tell me why California freeways are always referred to with the article 'the' as in, "You take the 8 to get to the 5"? I can unequivocally tell you that I do not live just off the 43. I do know my place.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment

Youall

Try as they might, the likes of Wal-Mart, McDonald's and Starbucks have not succeeded in obliterating all the regional differences in the United States. Even though every town in America has its predictable landscape of chain stores, observant travelers can still find many things that don't remind them of home.

Hot dog buns come to mind. Every Midwesterner knows that hot dog buns are split on the side. Imagine my surprise when I bought a package of hot dog buns in a New England grocery and discovered they all looked like little canoes. Time spent in the region revealed the brilliance of the top split bun. It can be stuffed with lobster salad, shrimp salad or clams and the aforementioned will not fall out onto your lap. I would love to see this regional product go national.

The South has a reputation for relishing its regionalism. They love their eccentrics, mint juleps, bourbon and regional authors.

I love the South, but do have a problem when I visit. After placing my order in a Southern restaurant, I had a waitress look at me and say, "Honey, I didn't understand a word you just said." Everything down South moves a bit more slowly, including the words.

Regional differences in the West are most apparent in traffic issues. Want to make yourself the instant center of attention? Just venture off the curb at any unsignaled pedestrian crossing out West. I had no idea I could bring all traffic to a screeching halt by merely putting a toe in a crosswalk. Where I'm from, this courtesy is unheard of. Just yesterday I was trying to cross a busy street without traffic lights. Scores of cars just whizzed by me. I dashed for my life when there was a break in the traffic. It's a predator-prey type relationship here.

I, however, become the menace when I drive out West where the stoplights are on the FAR side of the intersection, not on the corner where you actually stop the car. We midwesterners might be a tad tough on pedestrians, but we don't put stoplights where you aren't supposed to stop.

And could someone tell me why California freeways are always referred to with the article 'the' as in, "You take the 8 to get to the 5"? I can unequivocally tell you that I do not live just off the 43. I do know my place.

Please click here if you wish to send me a comment