Sunday, July 24, 2016

Life in the slow lane

I now live with three dogs—the two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels belonging to Jordan and Christian have come to stay, apparently for the duration. They quickly learned that happy hour means treat time, so even before we settle down with a glass of wine, they begin barking and demanding. Sophie knows what to do with a rawhide treat—go off in a corner and chew until it’s gone. Cricket and June Bug haven’t quite figured that out. They gnaw a bit, and then the lick a lot. Finally, one will tire of that game and walk away; quick as a flash, the other one is on the abandoned treat. So then we have a sort of pas de deux where they simply trade. Finally, when they tire enough, Jordan takes the treats away and saves them for another day. They are after all a bit expensive.

Tonight Sophie got hold of one of their abandoned treats—Jordan tried to get it from her but the wretch growled. When I grabbed her and took it out of her mouth—with some tugging,, I admit—she never offered a sound, so I praised her lavishly. She’s really done a good job of letting these two interlopers into her house, and I try to make sure she maintains a sort of privileged status. But Cricket and June Bug are sure cute and silly.

When Jordan calls them to go out or eat supper, they all three follow her anxiously. She looks like the Pied Piper of dogs. In another month or so, Sophie and I will be in our own quarters, and things will be much easier.

Tonight Jordan, Christian and I had Sunday supper—Doris’ casserole, a favorite of all the family except Megan who detests it, and a good green salad. Sunday supper used to be a tradition in the family, and there were times when the kids were in high school and college that I cooked for 15 or 20. Sometimes I make an effort to invite people to share with us but it’s hard since I can’t cook. I do however have a great file of recipes that will feed Coxie’s Army.

Once I tried a cornbread/hamburger mixture, and my brother looked at me and asked, “Sis, is the budget the problem?” In my own defense I also sometimes did leg of lamb.

Those Sunday night dinners with cousins and friends remain a good memory for my children, and that makes me glad I spent all those Sundays cooking. They grew up with hospitality as a way of life.

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