Honey's Bucket List

She had an interesting life.

Honey gave a man a table dance in New Mexico. She knocked martini glasses and beer bottles all over the floor. Honey was not the shy type.

She ate Navajo fry bread on the Rez. She got wet in the Pacific Ocean. She licked the snow and rolled in it. Honey wandered through the forest and ran for miles in the desert. She took trips from Santa Cruz to Mendocino. Honey also traveled to Utah Bryce Canyon, to Canyon De Chelle, to Carson City, to Colorado. She liked a car ride a whole lot. The window open blowing the wind in her face and the smells of a million different things rushing past her.

Honey was a big girl about of about 70 pounds. She was always trying to diet, but we never enforced it much. She loved food and she and I think it's better to be rounder and happy rather than skinny and hungry.

When I walked Honey, people would cross the street to avoid passing her. Honey looked "fierce". Children always knew better and gathered around her to pet her every chance they got.

Honey loved music and she danced. She also bucked like a pony when she got excited. She laid down the law to other dogs to teach them manners.

Honey got to run free and roll in the grass at her own private park at Coast Guard Island. Every Christmas, she got a steak for her dinner and a little vanilla ice cream for dessert.

Honey seemed to "run down" about two weeks ago. The vet found that she had a large mass in her stomach as well as very painful arthritis that was all down her spine. She stopped wanting to take a walk and lost interest in having fun.

Although it was not really Christmas, Honey had a big New York steak for her breakfast yesterday. She also got ice cream for dessert.

She's gone now, but I don't think she missed a thing on her bucket list.

Romancing Ramon

Meet Ramon.

He's from either Paraguay or someplace equally exotic. Ramon is my Christmas lights man.

I met Ramon last year when he was turning my next door neighbor's house into a winter wonderland. Actually, there are so many lights on her house, in her trees and shrubs, that it looks a little like a house of ill repute to me, but that's just me being catty. Besides what do I know about houses of ill repute? (I'll answer that. I know enough. I've been to Amsterdam after all.)

All right, I've gotten off my topic and for that I apologize. Ramon is about 7 foot 19 inches tall and perfect in every conceivable way. He may be perfect in ways I have yet to conceive as well. Ramon's impressive stature, beautiful smile, and soft Spanish accent just make me swoon.

When I saw him working on my neighbor's house this time last year, I hurried over to introduce myself and ask/beg him to put lights on the exterior of my house. At first, Ramon apologized and said that he would not have time to do my house too. I went all limpid and sweet and let him know that I would do very interesting things for him if he would light my house.

Needless to say, Ramon succumbed to my feminine wiles and my pleas. I received a very private message from Ramon about 2 weeks ago reminding me that it was again time to schedule an appointment for Christmas lights. His phone number and Company name and email address (Ramon's Services) was on the printed sheet.

I waited a couple of days and then I called him. When I told him my name, he said "Oh! I remember you!" My heart skipped a beat. (Of course, he said it in Spanish.) I asked Ramon to put me on his schedule and we set yesterday as a date.

Ramon and his crew arrived about 8:30 AM. Now this was not my favorite time for an interlude, but with Ramon, I will take what he is willing to give. I heard his truck pull up, and I threw on my robe over my Minny Mouse pajamas and ran out onto the front porch. "Hola Ramon! Buenos Dias!" I called out. Never mind that I had not yet gotten myself "vamped" for viewing.

Ramon answered me politely and inquired about my health, my husband, and if I wanted the white lights like last year or colored lights. I responded that the multi-colored lights were the most appealing. (I was actually telling him that I find men of color quite appealing too and I'm sure he knew that.)

I hurried in to perform some rapid ablutions. I needed lipstick, mascara, perfume and my high heels along with my Ralph Lauren cashmere sweats. (Remember this is all before 9 AM and I don't even get up most days till 9 or 9:30.)

The men put up their ladders and Ramon supervised and I went out to show him where the electrical outlet for the lights was located. We talked about the cold morning. We talked about how agile his men are and that they toss things back and forth while on the high rise ladders and about how nice this time of year is! Oh mucho gusto to the max!

Anyway, they finished with my lights and they moved on to my neighbor's whorehouse (I mean really!) and I walked next door to find Ramon and ask how much I owed him. He said he wasn't sure, but he would call home to see if there was a record of what I had paid last year. (My neighbor's house is about 5 times the size of mine and the lights are adequate to illuminate a city like Reno. I'm sure she pays about $500 or so.)

Ramon came to the door amid howls of protest from Honey, Harry and Zoe. I had his check ready for him in the $150 amount I had paid last year. I apologized for the ruckus and he said "it's nothing" (but in Spanish - "de nada", you know). We shook hands and wished each other a happy holiday.

I can't wait for next Christmas!

Things I Won't Do In 2012

I promise I will not walk around with a chicken leg hanging out of my mouth. I've seen this done twice in the last year, and it's not a good look for anybody.

I'm not going to wear translucent leggings with floral panties. If I forget and wear that, I just won't lean over for any reason no matter what.

I'm not going to flash my bosoms before 2 PM from now on. I do that now and I know it's tacky but I'm going to stop because it's in poor taste.

I'm not going to drink Diet Coke and eat chocolate and say it's lunch any more.

I'm going to stop drinking Bombay Sapphire Martini's with a green olive and Makers Mark Manhattans with a cherry because they look so drop dead sexy in those glasses.

I'm not going to safety pin stuff anymore because I am too lazy or too stupid to mend a piece of clothing. It just isn't good for my image.

I'm not going to flirt with the mailman, the mail woman, the UPS guys and girls, the fish man or the garbage man any more. I may still flirt with the Fed Ex people though, because I'm not perfect.

I'm going to stop telling people my husband is only 4 foot 11 inches tall. That might hurt his feelings and it's not true. I'm going to stop calling Alex "the little injun who could" also because that doesn't respect his culture.

I'm going to stop calling religious people "Holy Rollers" and "Whack a Doodles". I'm also going to stop referring to small children as "no-necks".

I'm going to stop calling that lovely woman named "Fatima" "Fattie" for short. She doesn't like it, and since she is my daughter, I should do what she likes.

I'm going to stop criticizing people just because I hate them, or even worse, because I am jealous of them. (This doesn't happen often, but I'm going to be sure not to do it.)

I'm really glad I have almost a month before I have to put these resolutions into practice.

Why Do Camels Hide Their Toes?

I cannot begin to tell you what turned up when I searched images for "Camel Toes".

It was really not what I expected. You are going to have to settle for a camel hiding it's toes. I have to admit I have only been hearing this phrase the last few years. And, yes, I know what it is supposedly referencing. But I was curious as to why. Thus began my search for the illusive photo of a camel's toes.

Finally, I realized I would have to change my wording and I put in a search for "camel's foot". Ah! Better! Well, it's better than the other alternatives anyway. The problem is, if that is a "camel toe" then there may be something seriously amiss with my anatomy. I have nothing on my person that even looks vaguely like that. Not one thing.

No doctor has ever mentioned that I am somehow deformed in my private parts. And, in fact, most people that I have exposed myself to act like my parts are perfectly normal (even charming, but that depends on who you talk to).

I guess I was fully expecting a camel's toe to look like human female sex organs. Sadly, I just don't see the resemblance at all.

It kind of makes me wonder if camels look at humans and say "Dang, her shoulder looks just like a camel's pudenda."

Raiders Win! (Or You Just Can't Keep A Good Man Down)

Alex spent the last day of the holiday weekend in a less than lovely place.

A hospital is never my idea of a good time, and my husband feels even more strongly about that than I do. He did his first ever overnight stint in a hospital on Sunday.

I, on the other hand, have had children in hospitals, have had surgeries in hospitals, and gone into the hospital for days at a time because of pesky pneumonia or this or that. I've had romances with doctors and spent nights in the "on call" rooms of hospitals, (of course, that was well before I was married - to my present husband, anyway).

Alex had a crushing pressure on his chest midday on Sunday. Needless to say, we didn't fool around. We drove immediately to the hospital that is about 3 blocks away from our house. Alex was immediately put in a room and they started his treatment and testing while I waited in the lobby.

Finally, someone came out to get me and bring me into his treatment room. Alex was hooked up to monitors, had oxygen leads in his nose, and an iv hook up already inserted by the time I saw him.

The preliminary blood work showed that no heart attack enzymes had been secreted so that was good. What was not so good is that his blood pressure had gone up alarmingly. The doctor determined that it would be best to admit Alex and do some testing "just to be on the safe side".

Alex's face fell at this announcement. He wanted to go home. No, he was in the best place to take care of him right there in the Alameda Hospital. So the doctor and I convinced him that an overnight hospital stay was in everyone's best interest. Alex was bummed. At least he was bummed until he got to his "overnight" room. Things started looking up immediately.

The Raiders were ahead and then, miracle of miracles, this appeared! Dinner! Now keep in mind, Alex had been feasting on crusty baguettes and home-made turkey soup along with a fine Cabernet, but with the combo of a Raider win and food, life was good once more!

Alex is fine. All of his tests turned out okay. He will "follow up" with his internist on Wednesday and they will take another look at his blood pressure.

I did not spend the night at the hospital. I'm too old for that spending the night with a full sized man in a single bed.

Or, perhaps I've gotten too fat. Either / or.

I'm Thankful For Good Looking Men

I spent Thanksgiving afternoon, cooking, sipping a lovely Chardonnay, and feasting my eyes on Alex and Todd.

There's just nothing like having cute men around. And these two are a study in contrasts. Alex is so brown and sturdy. Todd is so blond and rangy! For those of you who don't know, Alex is my husband, and Todd is my dog trainer (and friend).

The crusty sweet potato casserole turned out wonderful. So did the stuffing and mashed potatoes. The turkey (12-pound, Kosher and fresh), was maybe the best I've ever had. We had Brussels sprouts cooked with bacon and chicken broth, and cranberries with cherry chutney. Pumpkin cheesecake was for dessert. We also had a lovely dessert wine served in tiny (edible) chocolate cups.

I only screwed up one thing. I didn't make the pear and Gorgonzola salad with the walnuts as I had planned. It simply got away from me and I forgot. Never mind. We'll have that today.

One other tiny mishap was that I put the turkey "innards" in a pan of water, the neck, the heart and the other things called gizzards. I meant to cook those down to use for the gravy, but I forgot. So those nasty tidbits were sitting in a small saucepan in water on the counter.

We packed up "leftovers" for our guests and they took them home. Alex and I decided to watch a "Godfather" marathon upstairs and make it an early night. We were both tired and more than a little tipsy from all the wine.

Alex went into the kitchen as I was heading upstairs. I heard him yelling. We had placed the left over pumpkin cheesecake on a paper plate covered in Saran wrap on top of the kitchen island. Alex apparently walked in on Zoe as she was finishing off over half of a pumpkin cheesecake. She did this by standing up on her hind legs.

Early this morning, almost before dawn, I remembered that we had not taken our garbage cans out to the street. (We really needed to get them emptied because they were all quite full so I shook Alex awake and told him to get his butt up and take out the garbage.) Alex took quite a while so I rolled over and went back to sleep.

When Alex came back to bed, he asked me if I had put a clean and empty saucepan on the floor of the hallway. What a peculiar question! Why would I do such a thing?

The answer came to me a second later. Zoe! The turkey bits were gone. Zoe certainly knows how to have a feast. A pumpkin cheesecake and raw turkey innards. Well, turkey necks are probably delicious! I've never tried them myself.

Apparently Zoe went on to rearrange the furniture in Harry's apartment last night. All that sugar probably gave her amazing energy.

Alex is still cleaning up the recycled pumpkin cheesecake out in the backyard.

The Year I Made Turducken

In retrospect, it looks kind of obscene.

I had read something about "turducken" either in a magazine or a book. It captured my imagination. Stuffing a chicken inside a duck, then sticking the duck inside a turkey just sounded like good fun to me.

In a fit of curious "social frenzy", I invited about 40 people for Thanksgiving that year. Most of them accepted and were very excited about the promise of the Cajun treat I would be preparing. Now, frankly, I'm not sure what I was thinking.

My husband was actively deployed with his unit to guard the airport in the dark days following 9/11 and he would be going on duty at midnight on Thanksgiving. My kids were all here with their kids and everybody was staying for the night.

All of the work that went into that poultry was enough to make me swear off of fowl for years. I'm not even that crazy about eggs to this day. It was disgusting to touch that naked bird flesh hour after hour. It was a terrible amount of work, but I got it done. I also prepared dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, candied yams, and a green bean casserole to go with what I was now calling "Turd Uck Icken", sometimes prefaced with a "fricken".

I also belatedly realized that I really did not want to have 40 people or so come to my house to eat, but it was too late to cancel without the excuse of being hospitalized.

Family and friends were asked to bring wine and / or a pie. I really didn't care which. I set the table and it looked magical. Of course, the service was all "buffet" because I really can't seat 40 guests at a table.

I did not eat one bite that evening. People came and went and everyone seemed to enjoy the feast. I have no idea if it was good or not. People said it was, but they could have just been being polite.

Nobody died.