Tag Archives: cooks


My body is such that if I reach the normal temperature of 98.6 I have a fever. Not so my hands.

In cooking school I failed in one thing, desserts that require hand work, like making puff pastry, because my hands melted the butter. I let others do that, and paid them back by getting a mousse or ice cream or aspic or something out of a bowl they had and onto a plate.

Tonight our dog was lying on my husband’s empty space having a bad dream and I placed a hand on her non-hips for a few seconds and she went out of REM sleep and back to sleep. Yes, dogs do dream.

My husband often has dreams and if I place a hand on his back (he fell off a tree swing as a kid) he calms down and goes into a deep sleep.

There are more important things than cooking school. Pastry was never my thing anyway. I would have to work in a walk-in frig with a marble board. Mom and my younger sisters excelled at mincemeat tarts, cookies, brownies, many more desserts while I did straight cooking.

It is more important to me to tend to my family as if I can help them sleep and be comfortable, it is a blessing for all. Oh, dog Zoe is up and clicking her paws down the hall. She can’t let me be gone for five minutes! Think about that when you wish to adopt a herding dog. Yes, adopt, from a shelter. All of my four animals over 30 years have been adopted.

Zoe’s been with us for 12.5 years. She loves everyone, takes care of me and makes sure I never exit without her knowledge. Then she takes a position by the front door so I will return. I always have returned from errands promptly and always will, until it is impossible to do so.

Family is so important to me. So is sleep. It’s nearly 4:30 in the morning and she, Zoe The Hipless Wonder dog, is more than ready to be lifted back up on the bed. Who is training whom? Good morning, Dee


Writer Dee

I have to do this now as it’ll be my 1,800th post on this blog. I have “met” so many interesting people through this exercise. I thank you for reading and responding.

As a kid, I was very shy and told I was not smart and no-one wants me as a friend. I read voraciously, reading both Death Be Not Proud and The Diary of Anne Frank at age eight, of my own volition.

I never thought that I could write. Yet here I am, writer of now 1,800 blog posts and if the thought comes to me I get up in the middle of the night and do those 500 words in 15 minutes that used to take hours or days.

Of course, I’m writing for you and for me, and enjoy reading your blog and knowing I’m a member of a community that accepts me for who I am. Thanks so much, Dee