Celebrating President's Day Our Way
Hi ho, MMMLogerinos!
You know how it is. Despite whatever personal ugh you're doing at a given time, the show must go on. You've got to do your job, but sometimes you just can't make it, you know? Case in point, the Airedale. The DH dragged his flu or whatever-ughed self out of bed to get ready for work today, went downstairs to make coffee and found the Airedale just hadn't made it outside. She may have tried to tell us she had to go but we were both too tried, ughish and asleep to hear her. So the DH had to get out his trusty rug shampooer at 5:30 a.m.--AFTER he woke me to share that the dog had an accident????
Whatever this particular ugh is, it descended upon me on Thursday night and sure cancelled my weekend. And soon the DH joined me in misery. Now, nothing makes us feel better than homemade chicken soup, or at least we think so, though neither of us had that healing tradition in our childhood. My mother's heal-all-ills remedy was ice cream on the inside and Listerene for pimples, scrapes, or whatever owie we had as kids. As to chicken soup, my family ate Campbell's chicken noodle and I didn't know there was another kind as we didn't do much homemade at the Rucker house. It wasn't until the DH took wifey and son to England that I learned a great deal about cooking homemade--the Robert Carrier way from a lovely American ex-pat who taught history, I believe, at the American University in London. She also taught small gourmet cooking classes out of her beautiful home in Beaconsfield, Bucks. It is from Nance Kitner that I learned to make my own homemade chicken stock as well as many other tasty and beautiful dishes that I cook every other third leap year.
When we returned to the U.S., I continued creating my own healing chicken soup and after we got the first Airedale, I shared the "parted out" stewed stuff with her. Not a very wise move as I made a good girl go bad and addicted the dog to chicken in any form. But that could be a genetic predisposition in Airedale terriers as the current Airedale is mad for chicken, too. We can't deny her and give into her loud and slobbery demands for chicken parts even though it upsets her system and our lives terribly.
This morning after the DH finished cleaning the carpet and talking about the dog living in the garage, we again came to the conclusion that we must not give the Airedale chicken or anything else but her own dog food. Yeah, that will last a few days until the next time we need healing chicken soup and then there will be hell to pay on many different levels.
And so goes celebrating Presidents' Day our way . . .
Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMmelinda on the mend, just
You know how it is. Despite whatever personal ugh you're doing at a given time, the show must go on. You've got to do your job, but sometimes you just can't make it, you know? Case in point, the Airedale. The DH dragged his flu or whatever-ughed self out of bed to get ready for work today, went downstairs to make coffee and found the Airedale just hadn't made it outside. She may have tried to tell us she had to go but we were both too tried, ughish and asleep to hear her. So the DH had to get out his trusty rug shampooer at 5:30 a.m.--AFTER he woke me to share that the dog had an accident????
Whatever this particular ugh is, it descended upon me on Thursday night and sure cancelled my weekend. And soon the DH joined me in misery. Now, nothing makes us feel better than homemade chicken soup, or at least we think so, though neither of us had that healing tradition in our childhood. My mother's heal-all-ills remedy was ice cream on the inside and Listerene for pimples, scrapes, or whatever owie we had as kids. As to chicken soup, my family ate Campbell's chicken noodle and I didn't know there was another kind as we didn't do much homemade at the Rucker house. It wasn't until the DH took wifey and son to England that I learned a great deal about cooking homemade--the Robert Carrier way from a lovely American ex-pat who taught history, I believe, at the American University in London. She also taught small gourmet cooking classes out of her beautiful home in Beaconsfield, Bucks. It is from Nance Kitner that I learned to make my own homemade chicken stock as well as many other tasty and beautiful dishes that I cook every other third leap year.
When we returned to the U.S., I continued creating my own healing chicken soup and after we got the first Airedale, I shared the "parted out" stewed stuff with her. Not a very wise move as I made a good girl go bad and addicted the dog to chicken in any form. But that could be a genetic predisposition in Airedale terriers as the current Airedale is mad for chicken, too. We can't deny her and give into her loud and slobbery demands for chicken parts even though it upsets her system and our lives terribly.
This morning after the DH finished cleaning the carpet and talking about the dog living in the garage, we again came to the conclusion that we must not give the Airedale chicken or anything else but her own dog food. Yeah, that will last a few days until the next time we need healing chicken soup and then there will be hell to pay on many different levels.
And so goes celebrating Presidents' Day our way . . .
Ciao, ciao, MMMMMMMmelinda on the mend, just
posted by MMMelinda at 8:36 AM
