Happiness is a Warm Puppy

How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the waggly tail?
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale. -- Patti Page

That's exactly how I felt the first time I laid eyes on my Sheltie Prince Sammy Davis Junior Liebman.

After losing our beloved Sheltie Puppy-San Sandy, who was nearly 18-years old, my husband and I agreed to wait just a little while before we got another dog. The holidays were approaching, my father had only recently been placed in nursing home care, and we were just plain busy, so we both thought it best to wait at least a month or two. And, we both agreed that when we were ready, we'd go to the local Humane Society to find our next family member.

Of course, the best-laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.

Only a few days after Sandy's passing, I was at the mall when I walked into a pet store and saw the little black fur ball that would become my Sam. Naturally, folks working there saw a mark when one of them commented on the tears streaming down my face. A young girl directed me into a small room where those easy marks, like me, and their potential new loved ones can bond. She brought in the energetic Sheltie puppy I had been eyeing, and frankly, the rest is history.
His ears were perfectly folded, the white stripe was perfectly centered down the middle of his long snout, his little round body was perfectly covered in the softest black fur and his sharp little teeth cut into my nose like 20 razor blades when he bounced right on up into my face and began licking away my tears.
This was the perfect one.

But I'd have to convince my husband.
Although we were throwing our annual Christmas dinner with friends that night, I took my husband back to the mall to see this puppy. He made me wait outside, because he didn't want the staff seeing how eager I was if he decided to get the puppy and then negotiate with them.
About 30-minutes later, we were driving home; me in the passenger seat with my Sheltie Prince Sammy Davis Junior Liebman in my lap -- so named because he was a black Sheltie and my husband is Jewish (like Sammie Davis, Jr.). I thought I had been so clever in coming up with his name.

When we arrived at home, we ran our 10-week old baby directly to the back yard, where he promptly ran right into the swimming pool (we think because the pool was covered with leaves, he didn't realize it wasn't solid ground). And, I, of course, jumped in after him. Funny, that memory must have stayed with him for the rest of his life, because he was forever fearful of the pool.

That night, as our friends arrived for our annual dinner, we were excited to have them all meet Sam. By the time two particular friends arrived, Sam was asleep under the Christmas tree, belly up. When the two of them walked in the door, the first thing they said was, "We saw the perfect dog for you today!"
They looked down and saw our Sam and exclaimed, "That's him! Did you get him at the mall?"
Isn't it funny they had picked out the same puppy?

Sammy was just as much my mother's dog as he was ours. By the time he was nearly two-years old, my mother was living with us. He stayed by her side when we weren't home, and by mine when we were. He's the first dog we've had that was mine. By that I mean he favored me; loved me. My husband used to say, "I'm the one who feeds him and cleans up after him, but he loves her."

On the day after my mother passed away, Sammy showed signs of some very strange behavior; trembling, yet stiffly stationary. At first, I thought it was a reaction to my mother's passing - I'm sure he noticed she was gone and missed her. But when it continued for two days, I took him to our vet, who ran some tests and determined he likely had some form of cancer in his liver and/or pancreas.

I brought him home and we gave him the best love, attention and comfort a dog could hope for. And, exactly nine-months after my mother passed away, we had to let go of Sam.

I am of the belief that dog "ownership" is no different than child "ownership."
There are certain commitments that come with raising a child and most of those same commitments apply to the dog in your life. That's how we have been with all five of the dogs we've adopted. We plucked ugly little Button out of death row at the Humane Society in Miami on the day we returned from our honeymoon. Although as a puppy he literally ate and digested two legs off the coffee table, that chomping champ filled our lives with joy for 13-years. Cinder, along with the home in which we found her, had been abandoned and left to die. She was the most well-behaved German shepherd any young family could ask for. Our princess Sandy lived to be nearly 18. She was so loving. We adopted Bear, another shepherd, when Sandy was about seven-years old. He'd put her leash in his mouth and walk her around. Then came Sam, my Prince.

I once heard a quote, “A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself.”

A dog's love is unconditional.
Another quote, "No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich."
He is your friend, your partner, your defender, and you are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.

All of our "pets" have been adopted into our family with love. My husband and I realized, the night we let go of Sam, that we have never actually been alone -- dogs, child, parents have always shared our home with us. We'll open up our hearts and home again to another dog soon, and both of us look forward to sharing our love - unconditionally.

With the Sweet Kiss of an Orange Blossom - A Connection Develops

We're having friends over for dinner tonight - two people we've known for a number of years, but because of my mother's passing, are now true and loved friends.

How did that happen?

Well, my mother's best friend for many years was a lovely woman who happened to be the mother of the friend coming for dinner tonight.
Mom and her BFF did many things together; went to church, to their Circle meetings, out to lunch; Mom even went to doctor appointments with her friend. My mother was heartbroken when she learned of her friend's passing nearly six-years ago.

Although I'd known Mom's BFF's daughter for many years, I had always considered her to be more of an acquaintance. We didn't really socialize together, and actually saw each other only a few times a year - primarily at church.

When I finally came out of the denial stage and admitted that Mother could possibly be transitioning and leaving this earth - along with my family, it is these two people to whom I reached out. They may have thought they were called upon because of his background as a former Methodist minister, but that isn't it at all. ('though to this moment I still can't pinpoint why it was them that I needed to see)
My friend's husband, whom my mother adored and held in very high esteem, performed Mom's funeral service, and in all of the confusion and overwhelming feelings with which I was facing, it is my friend who saw to all of my family's needs -- arranging for meals and more.

It cannot go unsaid - I am grateful for their friendship.

It is that bond that I will honor tonight with a homemade "Orange Kiss-Me Cake;" for two reasons:
1. It was one of Mother's favorites, and it is she who brought us together in friendship
2. It's a recipe Mom made for family gatherings or when friends were coming over.
I remember her making it even when I was a child. In fact, here in Florida when the orange groves are in full bloom, the air is filled with the sweet aroma of citrus - a beautiful thing - and that's when I especially get a hankering for one of Mom's cakes.
Yummy!

Sidebar before I give you the recipe...
When I was making the recipe scrapbooks that are mentioned in previous posts, Mom wanted to include the "Orange Kiss-Me Cake," but couldn't find her original recipe card. She said, "It doesn't matter. I know how to make it." And she proceeded to give me the instructions to include in the recipe book.
Fast forward to today when I was making the cake. I had found her original recipe card in her little index box, and thought I'd compare the two.
Guess what? They are different! (slightly, but different is different when it comes to recipes)
So, I panicked. 
Obviously I couldn't call my mother, which sent a streaming ocean of tears down my cheeks. But then I called my younger sister to see if she had ever made one. It turns out she baked her first "Orange Kiss-Me Cake" about two years ago. She had some problems with the recipe, and thank goodness - Mother was still living and able to help her through it. Today, she gave me those tips.
This one's for you, too, Sis!

Here's the recipe:
"Orange Kiss-Me Cake"

Ingredients
1-cup sugar                              2-cups flour
1/2-cup butter, softened           1-tsp. baking soda
1-tsp. salt                                  1-cup buttermilk or sour milk (instructions at end)
1-tsp. vanilla                             2-eggs

1-cup raisins
1-orange
1/2-cup pecan pieces

Topping
Reserved orange juice
1-cup 10X powered sugar
Reserved orange/raisin/nut mixture
and - the juice from 1 additional orange

Directions
Squeeze the juice of one orange into a bowl. Then remove the seeds and cut the orange into smaller pieces, including all of the rind and pulp, and grind in food processor. (Mother used a meat grinder) Add the raisins and grind, then add the pecan pieces. Add all but 1/3 of the orange juice and mix well. (reserve the remaining juice for the topping) Set all aside.

In a large bowl, beat butter until fluffy, then add eggs and vanilla and mix on medium speed until well blended. Add dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking soda and salt) alternating with the soured milk or buttermilk. Mix on medium speed until batter is fluffy.
Add half of the orange/raisin/nut mixture to the cake batter and mix until well blended. Pour into prepared 13"X9" baking dish and bake at 350-degrees for 35-45 minutes (until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean).

While cake is baking, prepare topping. Combine the remaining orange/raisin/nut mixture with 1-cup of powdered sugar and the reserved orange juice. Mix well and set aside until cake is done.
Using the one additional orange, squeeze the juice out and set aside.
When cake is done, remove from oven and immediately pour the juice from the one additional orange over the top of the cake, followed by icing the top of the cake with the orange/raisin/nut mixture. Since the cake is hot, the icing will melt right into the cake.

How my mother made sour milk for baking:
Many recipes for cakes, cookies and breads call for buttermilk or sour milk. "Back in the day" cooks may have used milk that had been left standing out for several days; an idea that's not considered to be safe today. My mother rarely had buttermilk on-hand, so she combined 1-cup of milk with 1-tsp. of vinegar and let it sit for 10-15 minutes. The milk should begin to curdle slightly, creating your sour milk for your recipe.

__________

This cake is so light and fluffy and tastes like the same fragrance that fills the Florida air every year: the sweet bouquet of orange blossoms in the spring combined with the aroma of oranges being processed at the many juice plants in the winter.
Try it the next time you have guests visiting from "Up North." It's the perfect dessert that also screams "Welcome to my home, friends!"
Tonight it will welcome our special friends into our home.


Love you, Mom, but your vacation time is up -- It's now time to come home.

Technology Update:
I took photos to share with you as I was baking this cake, but - unfortunately - a piece of the camera memory card broke off inside my computer. Now I'm going to be at the mercy of The Geek Squad. I'll add the photos later.

The Girls!

In the kitchen with Mom.

 

A little girl needs her Daddy...

...So does a big girl.

I've shared some about my father in a past post - http://alwaysonmymindforeverinmyheart.blogspot.com/2013/05/bubbling-over-with-tales-and-memories.html

My father had a smile that could light up a room.
In his later years, while living in nursing home care, because the absolutely horrible disease known as Alzheimer's had robbed him of his memories, his face and his family-life, it was that smile that greeted me everyday, and it's that smile that I'll write about today.

Me, my dad and my younger sister in our home in Miami.
Check out that lamp! (and the smiles)

I mentioned in that older post that my father lived in the shadows of his brothers and sister. I've heard from several sources that Daddy did all he could to gain his own father's love, respect and pride; emotions, feelings and characteristics that were, apparently, reserved only for my father's siblings. But, that didn't keep Dad from trying, even up until only a few days before he passed away, he spoke of his father as being a great man and how much he loved him. We kept a photo of Daddy and his father on the dresser in the nursing home, and there were days when Dad -wearing a great big smile - would carry that framed picture around with him.

This is a rare photo of my father with his dad.

It was actually re-touched for me, because the entire right side of my father's face

was missing from the photo - it had been scratched off.

When my older sister was born, my parents were living in New Mexico, abandoning their lives and extended families back in Southern Illinois to make a living in the copper mines of Santa Rita. I can only imagine the smile on my father's face when he saw her for the first time. His firstborn. She was beautiful, and still is today.

I don't have any pictures of my dad and my older sister together -  not because there aren't any,

but rather it's because Mom made special scrapbook albums for each of us with

our own pictures in them. But isn't she beautiful?

By the time my brother came along, my parents were living in Evansville, Ind., where my father worked in shipyards building LSTs during World War II. Although he sometimes had difficulty showing it (likely because of what I would call a strained relationship with his own father), my dad was so happy to have a son. Of course, I can only imagine that smile -- from ear to ear.

Here's a picture of my dad, my brother, my mother and my older sister.

When my younger sister and I were born, my parents were living in Mounds, Ill. Daddy was working for an oil company delivering gasoline to stations all around Southern Illinois. By then, his parents had passed away from complications following a car accident.
I was born the day before his birthday. He so badly wanted Mother to hold on for a few hours and give birth on his birthday, but it didn't happen. He sure loved telling that story and smiled and laughed each time he told it.

This is a photo of my dad taking me swimming when I was just 11-months old.

See his smile?



Although we still lived in Illinois when my younger sister was born, it was soon after her birth that we moved to Florida; a move that my father thought would be the best thing for the family. She was a beautiful baby - blonde, blonde hair - and she brought a huge smile to his face.

My younger sister is the one looking straight into the camera and seated.

She's beautiful. But, again, I don't have many pictures of my siblings,

 because Mother divided them up many years ago and gave them all to each of us.

And then there was my mother, who put the absolute biggest smile on my father's face. He was so proud of her. He bragged about her sewing, he bragged about what a good mother she was, he bragged about her German Chocolate Cake, he bragged about her operatic voice! But most of all, he smiled when he looked back at all the years they had together.

 

It is his smile that helped Mom get through those years Alzheimer's disease tried so hard to destroy. It is that smile that many of my old friends remember most about Dad. And it is the memory of that great big smile that comes to my mind first when thinking about him.

 

As I've said before, our lives were not perfect, but I choose to remember the parts of our lives, whether in Southern Illinois, Miami or other parts of Florida, that were the most charming. I choose to keep my parents' memory in a place that will always remain special and happy.

 

I love you, Daddy, always have and always will.

Happy Father's Day!

One of the last pictures taken of my dad and me, just before he went into nursing home care.

 

 

For the easily distracted. Oops, that's me!

Squirrel!!

Still searching for that missing photo album -- oops, Squirrel!
I got side-tracked, again.
And, this time - I can't even tell you what made me switch gears, but I suddenly went from looking for the photo album to clearing out all of the kitchen cabinets. Did I think I was going to find the album that's gone MIA in with the dishes?
I have no clue, but everything from my cabinets was now stacked all over the floor and the counter-tops when I suddenly got distracted from that distraction and - Squirrel!  I came upon my mother's little tin recipe box and began looking through it.

The domino effect.

Then, what happened?
Of course - Squirrel! I got side-tracked, again, and began looking for a specific recipe.
At this rate, my house will always look like a cyclone hit. (Soon, producers from that program on the TLC network called "Hoarding" will be knocking on my door.)

Mom doesn't have a lot of recipes. Many of the cards in her little index box have recipes that she cut out of the newspaper taped onto them. But the recipe cards that are in her handwriting are very different from recipes you might see today. Some are not legible, but of the ones that are, I've decided to start sharing them.
Oh no - another Squirrel! (yet another distraction).
But, what better way to celebrate her memory? (You realize that I'm never going to find that missing photo album?!)

I mentioned in an earlier post - http://alwaysonmymindforeverinmyheart.blogspot.com/2013_05_22_archive.html - that I had helped Mother make some recipe scrapbooks for each of her four children for Christmas a couple of years ago. She picked out a few recipes to start with, and then she was going to add to the book each year. Unfortunately, she passed away before we had the chance to add to the books, but here's what they look like.


This the cover of the recipe scrapbook.

The recipes that are in the scrapbook are the first ones I'll share.
And the first of those is so easy and so delicious, you just won't believe it until you try it. These beefy little cupcakes are almost habit forming. When Mom would make these, I couldn't stop at one or two.  I could have eaten them all in one sitting. Your children and grandchildren will love them, too. Pair them with a salad, and you've got a fun and hardy meal.

Barbecups

Set oven to 400-degrees
Ingredients:
1-pound of ground beef               one small onion chopped
1/2 cup barbecue sauce                two tablespoons brown sugar
grated cheese (not listed as an ingredient on the above recipe card, but used at the end)
one can of biscuits
muffin tin

Brown the chopped onion in a skillet, then add ground beef. (I didn't have an onion, so I used dried minced onion.) When browned, add barbecue sauce and brown sugar.

Separate the biscuits and place one biscuit in each muffin space, pressing dough down to bottom and up the sides. (I only used six of the biscuits, because I'm only making these for my husband and me. We'll have them for dinner tonight, and I'll have one leftover for lunch tomorrow.)

Spoon meat mixture into cups and bake at 400-degrees for about 10-15 minutes. When almost done, sprinkle with grated cheese and put back in oven for just a few minutes to melt.

That's it!
Stick a fork in 'em, cause they're done!

These are yummy! And you're going to thank me later.

Thanks, Mom!

Technology Update: I have added a new app to my cell phone. So, now I have all my crafting bases covered with apps from Joann Fabrics, Michael's and now Hobby Lobby! And, on top of that, I used a "Smart Board" in a presentation this past week.

Smiling in the Storm

I've spent the past two weeks looking for a "missing" photo album, so the inside of my house looks like a cyclone hit, or perhaps  hurricanes Frances and Jeanne hitting head on - which is actually a more appropriate analogy since those two back-to-back storms did hit us only two weeks apart in 2004, and today is the start of the 2013 hurricane season.

Mom hated it when I'd let things go in the house. As I've written in the past, she was the ultimate house-keeper...even making sure everything was clean and tidy before a hurricane would hit.
But here's something else about her:
For my mother, who would never admit it out loud, this was the most exciting part of the year.

Julia was a weather junkie -- couldn't get enough.
She started tracking hurricanes on paper maps when we first moved to Florida in 1957. She had one for every year. In fact, it's one of the things for which she was eulogized, in a very humorous way.
We were in the middle of a busy hurricane season when she passed away; 19 named storms. In fact, Mother passed away smack in the middle of tracking Nadine - a storm my mother would have remembered for its length. It spun around the Atlantic waters from Sept. 10 through Oct. 3 (very unusual).
Her last entry on her 2012 map is Michael, because she had grown so tired and unable to write.
After she passed, I did not keep the map current.

Here's a piece of Mom's final map for 2012.

With all apologies to those of you from New York or New Jersey or with families still living there, my mother would have loved following hurricane Sandy. She'd have been completely glued to the television throughout the coverage of that super storm. Her senses would have been heightened and, like all the meteorologists, would have understood the seriousness of that storm, wanting to warn all the people in its path in her own words.

Growing up in Miami, we had our share of hurricanes. Hurricane Donna in 1960 was an eye-opener for my parents, so they had awnings installed on the windows right after that.

This isn't my mother's map, but here's the track Donna took.

For me, hurricane Cleo in 1964 was the absolute scariest of times; we took a direct hit. I remember in the middle of the night the eye passed right over our house. Everyone went outside and, because it's like being in a vacuum, we could hear all the neighbors for blocks and blocks away. My father had planted some new royal palms in the front yard and when we went outside during the eye, we noticed they had all fallen to the ground. My dad was so distraught over the loss of those trees. But after the second half of the storm had passed and it was safe to go out, we saw that the trees had then been blown back into their upright positions and were solid in the ground. Amazing!

Here's the track of Cleo.

We're lucky in Florida, even back then, when it comes to hurricanes, we have plenty of time to prepare or to pack and get out of town. Our house in Miami, as well as our house here, was made from concrete blocks, but the power lines were all above ground, so - of course - the power did go off. But that's another thing, it didn't really matter, because we didn't have air-conditioning back then, but we did have gas appliances - so after the storm passed, it was business as usual at our house.

The one thing my mother did that I don't know of any other mother doing was that in the days prior to the start of hurricane season, and without any of us knowing, she would go shopping for small toys, coloring books, crayons, etc. then come home and wrap them in gift paper, and hide them. She'd only bring them out if we were in a hurricane, to occupy my younger sister and me and to keep us from being too scared. She did that every year and if there wasn't a storm, then those little gems would go into our Christmas stockings. (That part I didn't know until a few years ago.)

To this day, I don't look at an approaching hurricane as a terribly bad thing, and I think that's because my mother kept us calm with her love and those gifts. It was almost like Christmas or a birthday. Today when a storm is approaching, I look forward to the day off - closed up inside the house with my husband. I know how wrong that sounds, believe me.

My husband was on a motorcycle ride with some of his friends today, so while he was out of the house, I started looking for that missing photo album, again, at which time I came across the box of Mom's hurricane maps, which reminded me that today is the start of the season. The new hurricane map was printed in the newspaper last week, so I stopped what I was doing and took a copy of it to the cemetery and left it there for Mom to check out. She was very particular about the maps, complaining about how they were getting smaller and smaller each year.

I'm still missing that photo album - the story of which could become another posting on this blog if I don't find it soon, because it's loaded with photos from 1973-1978, the years we dated, married and had our son. My house is still a mess, but because of coming across those maps, I switched gears and put together our hurricane preparedness box. I'm ready for Hurricane Season 2013, and Mom would like that.

Love you, Mom!

My husband and my mother getting weather alerts on our battery-powered television after the power went off during hurricane Wilma in 2005.

You can see the shutters across the back sliding glass doors,

 but you can also see Mom's excitement.