"Mr. Wiggles, I will Love You Forever"!

He is my precious wiggler enduring yet another condition, unheard of, during his later years. His breathing became raspy earlier this year then morphed into other problems. He certainly did not deserve it, no dog does. As I wrap my thinking around it all, I wondered till I wondered no more.

It all began this year, in February. His hollow sounding, croupy voice came out of nowhere. It took me by surprise. Cool air, a common thread at this time of year in Canada, soothed throat and breathing. upon examination, the doctor asked me to time his respiration rate as he slept or napped. A rate faster than 30 beats per minute spelled trouble.  His was always lower and quiet. And so I watched, timed and counted from that moment on till this day. How could I not perform this simple act while my puppy slept. I needed to know if things could get worse.

There were surgeries galore listed to ameliorate this larynx problem. All acted a harsh penalty: in one case, post operative death rate was 60%. No thank you. The dog had to be silenced for several weeks during recovery. Really? No barking for a animal who communicates through his barking? How do I explain this ridiculous notion to him.? 

No collar. That was easy. Immediately, a harness was bought and used immediately. No time like the present. A food stand was used to keep all his food at eye level preventing the strain on his neck, back, larynx. All were positive actions to be taken to keep that other thing from happening. Nothing heroic was ever undertaken, just easy, make sense ones.

Everything was going according to plan till an unexpected visit to the doctor to plan for his future turned dire. A few minutes after arriving home my dear precious wiggler, still wiggling as he always did, died at home desperately trying to breathe. Frantically I tried to get him back into the car to get him the lifesaving help he needed. But time ran out. My 86 pound Mr. Wiggles, died courageously, with me by his side. I am heartbroken and will be for a very long time....... Good bye my precious little pup. 

The Body, A Miracle Machine

It was the year 1979. At the time, I thought his sudden birth was unimaginable. Yet, today, I wondered, had his early traumatic arrival saved his life? The study of preemies had not begun till !980.

I was talking to our newest member of the the mother-to-be group. Like me she was not much of a meat eater, relying solely upon fruits and vegetables to 'build' her baby. Protein is a primary body builder for the successful outcome in any healthy pregnancy we discussed till I had the epiphany.

As a mother to be in 1979, I was sick, every minute of every day, as I emptied the critical contents of my body's nutrients  down the drain. This constant 'flow' of food relived the stress upon my body, day after day, but did little to nourish the baby growing inside me, I thought. I worried, non-stop. But worry did nothing to change anything so I devised a simple plan: sleep whenever possible.

With two retrievers to care for, I slept when time allowed. Keeping food inside where it belonged became my top priority. Nothing else mattered or worked. Cravings of pickles and ice cream did not exist. Simple nutritious foods did, yet could not reserve a spot in my body. Violent episodes of losing food ruled the day. Today, the child of this pregnancy, my first, is a strong man, having beaten the odds of death when he was born 27 weeks into the pregnancy.

Little food remained while our son developed and grew inside me, I told 'Sally' (He is a strong man today.) For me there was no such thing as cravings. I simply detested most foods but somehow managed to eat some worthwhile products such as eggs, buckwheat kasha. Though very little food could be tolerate, my fetus managed to grow and thrive, I guess, because at birth the doctors remarked how big our first born was for being just over 3 months early. 

Three pounds, 2 ounce was the final score. I had managed to deliver a healthy, underweight preemie while discarding all food during this 6 month pregnancy. Remarkable! Mother nature knew what she was doing 'cause I certainly did not.

Had our son entered a healthier period of life after being born 13 weeks too soon? Who would dare say such a thing? Upon arrival, a preemie struggles to survive. In my case, our son struggled for 6 months in utero waiting to be born, from a diet of tiny morsels of food being lost within minutes of being eaten. Vomiting had served its purpose.

I knew then that any healthy diet helped  the baby. The terms of the stay meant nothing 'cause Mother Nature seemed to know what she was doing. Always has, always will.

Absolutely Thirst Quenching and Delicious!

The most thirst quenching, refreshing, delicious and satisfying mid morning snack, lunch or breakfast involves crisp cold celery with an accompaniment...... Years ago, the Medical Medium got the world juicing this innocuous vegetable that is a third party in the mirepoix involving carrots and onions for soups, stews and dips.

We juiced and juiced celery, buying 10 or more stalks, at a time, then. Some of us became tired of this trend wondering what to do with the fibre left behind among other things. Celery muffins? Cornbread? Or in my case, stuffing muffins. .. Healthy smoothies or juicing is not trendy. They are for real, energizing body treatments, saving us vast amounts of dollars not buying that latte, (Momsey does not drink coffee) hotdog or pizza slice at Costco in those early morning hours of shopping. Money saved is not just money saved but money invested, as well.

This morning I needed and craved celery. It was an emergency, too, for our Mr. Wiggles, this health detoxifier for us and them. Our dogs have had celery included in their diets for decades, an elixir must have for good health according to the Medical Medium. 

We have been dog owners for over 50 years, learning, early on, that sugar had no part in an animal's diet yet there it was up close and too personal in many dog foods back in the 70's when I knew nothing about dogs. Who was cooking/producing this garbage for our dogs? No wonder there is an expiry date on their lives of 10 years or less. There is a a breed living in Portugal, age 27. Imagine that! No dog food there, perhaps. What creature can subsist on junk for 10 years. A real diet is what is needed. There must be fake credentials, somewhere.

(Corn syrup does not belong in an animal's diet.) Our pets are not your guinea pigs. Was this simply a sick joke perpetrated upon us, unknowingly? But I digress. Today I was reminded of my own love affair with celery since I was young. This morning's celery looked so good. So I bought two stalks and processed one to be added, at will, on the food of my puppy. Then came its perfect accompaniment: a tuna sandwich! I was so excited about the lunch I was about to eat.

Celery is a great crunchy eating thing with tuna sandwiches. That is what I had this morning. Using  a certain brown bread is a must. And it fits right in. That carb profile matches certain fillings. Egg salad,  as does ham and salmon on brown or white. Pick the bread that works. But what must be included is the star: 2 inch celery sticks and carrots, too, with fresh and crunchy radishes. Oh my. such a delight. Chomp, Chomp and you're done. Lunch is done at an unbeatable price. Make a bunch with or without crusts and away we go. Satisfaction guaranteed. Freeze in small pieces and lunch is ready for the hot days of summer

Engaging in the long lost art of tuna sandwiches and others, if available, is simply wonderful. Have we  moved away from the lost art of making simple sandwiches at home? Cake anyone? Yes, of course. But I sort of had that first, didn't I?......Celery seems like cake at certain hungry times for me.

Use mayonnaise of your choosing. Mix some with a dollop of olive oil, the best in the world, add finely chopped chives, celery leaves with onion powder, or not, - olives - finely chopped, spinach?? A tiny food processor I use regularly for our Wiggler works fine to chop veggie add-ins for those magical sandwich moments. Devilled eggs anyone? Me, too.

With many teeth gone from our Mr. Wiggler he was looking at me quizzically wanting that which might be difficult to chew. I offered him the finely tuned celery sticks, I had been eating.. I held one as he meticulously and carefully chomped on it using the few front teeth with - two canines still intact and other 'helpers' - loving every moment.. Yet it was only celery.

Celery is so loved, needed and wanted in Momsey's life and my Wiggler's. Finely processed it satisfies and improves overall health. It is must in chicken soup, Chinese stir fries,. Its appeal is magnified, too,when sandwiches are present. With smoked meat, a very special treat, lightly steam in frypan with a mesh cover on top to steam slices of frozen rye bread with caraway seeds. Mustard anyone? Invite the celery sticks or coleslaw. Everything is welcome here. Especially the celery and mustard. Celery is never out of place. 

Coca Cola and The President

Glucose-fructose. He knows all about it and he's only 7. The MAHA movement is beginning to shed more light on the most important issue of our lifetime: manmade chemicals in our food. If human health is not uppermost in our collective minds then what is, I ask?

A recent article in a Toronto newspaper about the sweeteners in Coca cola and such has Momsey upset again. How many articles need to be written to showcase the dangers of glucose-fructose. Even Dr. Oz has spoken about it on his show. The journey of this malevolent sweetener – glucose-fructose - was clearly illustrated in the British journal, Focus, which came to my attention, dramatically, years ago, in a large scale center spread inside. This rather large scale magazine showcased the sweetener's destination throughout the body as it moved towards the body's major detoxifier, the liver.

The U.S. president's love of Coca Cola is well known. He's now professing the user friendly ingredient of sugar in his favourite soda pop, Coca-cola. Though he is using the diet version even the president knows that sugar is the better way - as is glass that contains the liquid! (Micro plastics are entering our DNA at an alarming rate, I have learned)....(Our son, a former graduate of an honours Kinesiology program from a well known university in northern Ontario, agrees. We have two brains, too; the other one being in our gut.)

The unpleasant glucose-fructose story has been around for decades. This manmade sweetener found in foods and drinks has been a cheap sinister food prop in our daily lives since forever. Why? We are told that G-F is similar to sugar but much sweeter tasting, made from corn. Sugar, its costlier cousin, is being ignored. Recipes/formulas can be reformulated, any time, by any company, no permission needed). The power we wield starts at the checkout, each and every time. We are in this sweetener's grasp from morning till night - if we are not paying attention. Good health is our only reward.

The body is a smart machine telling us what it knows, at all times, and doing its best to keep us healthy. When ingesting highly processed foods the organs do what they must as they attempt to dispose of or eradicate those additives mimicking food from our body. The liver, the body 's filtering system/organ, is waiting to do its best to deal with any and all foreign substances we have eaten.

Years ago, a small article lingering near the bottom of the newspaper, far from the reading public's gaze, told the story of an unsuspecting victim, a 10-year-old, whose only crime was drinking fruit cocktails laced with G-F. She was diagnosed with cirrohsis of the liver, an alcoholic's disease. At her age, I hoped that all could be reversible with proper treatment and diet. We may have no problem ingesting foods made with G-F but the body has a host of troubles processing it.

As he presented me with my favourite candy of all time: marshmallow strawberries, I looked at the ingredients listed on the back of the package. He knew it was my favourite. We both knew it was bad. He asked mom if he could have one to taste, knowing that glucose-fructose was #1 on that list. He smiled at me and I, him, as we sampled one. Fresh and yummy it was, of course, but nothing to brag about. 

Long long ago this favourite candy was made simply, no G-F, only sugar I told him, I thanked this wise 7-year-old for this gift of love, candy and insights, promising, sadly, that those days were over. He was watching me now. I could not disappoint. I followed his lead. Mom just smiled.

We trust till we trust no more.

Pet Food/Human Food, What's the difference? ...

R.F.K. Jr. is making haste in the U.S. food supply. It is gratifying for me that these man made additives /dyes are now being investigated or removed from the 'processed' foods we buy. The dairy industry is now under scrutiny by its own hands to clean up its own industry. But I worry. “Is the milk from the cow which is given antibiotics  being sold to the public? In Canada, this by-product is thrown out I discovered.

What ever ever happened to salt, lemon juice or freezing, when necessary, to preserve the foods that require preservation. It must be the cost, the cost of refrigeration. The trucks used, the freezers on both ends of transportation and refrigeration carry a mighty cost, I assume. Electrical power is not cheap. Sprinkling an additive or two on food products is simpler and cheaper, perhaps, but not healthier. The dyes added to make food look appetizing and seemingly taste better might seem innocent enough until they're not. 

I do not remember a time when an expiry date ever determined our fate at the dinner table. Processed foods/t.v. dinners and takeout foods had no prominence in our lives then. We knew a stale loaf of bread when we held it or tasted it. It was still a valid food.

Today's children, it seems, are the main consumers of highly addictive foods, its largest consumer group - if mom and dad allow. I reasoned that food scientists,  formerly university graduates, hired by food companies to deliver a quality standard to the company's inventory knew and understood their duty to society, didn't they? Their presence in the laboratory was to protect us in our eating journey, away from the produce aisle. I am so confused. Now we have everlasting plastic, dominating the food aisles, entering our bodies via the blood while taking up residence in our DNA. What about the children? What about them? Does anyone really care? 

Years ago I wrote about the food industry's imagination! Each year 10,000 new 'products' were being created. “How could that be?” I wondered, nervously. What am I missing? The food groups were few. Slogans on packages stating, “Made with real cheese or cream”made me think do they know what they are doing? I make assumptions about where the cheese/cream should be and shouldn't it be in the mac and cheese? There is an expectation for me. Where is the confusion? What are they saying? I shudder. 

Is the Twilight Zone slowly working its way into our lives through the food we buy? A little help in the kitchen can be a dangerous thing, perhaps. Then we have food-grade to describe those preservatives used in a processed food product.  Please explain. Is the non-human grade version, engine oil? What exactly is a food recall? What does it really mean?

Decades ago, there was a world-wide food scandal epidemic in the pet food industry. It seems that many companies played follow the leader using the same basic recipe from one evil source. How does that happen? Where is the oversight where food is concerned? Daily monitoring should have been in place? Prices varied considerably. It seems that premium dog food marketers got caught, too. How could that be? Their high end dog foods were costly and are sold in specialty outlets. 

Thousands of pets died or became terminally ill when melamine-laced wheat gluten 'found' its way into the food bowls of our trusting pets offered by us, the trusting pet parents.. A despicable event that killed pets everywhere. There was advance notice, clues that things were amiss. Was anyone on duty?

Boiled eggs are now a regular feature for our 12-year-old 86 pound retriever, ill since 2020, in addition to his 'pet food' alongside his daily 'processed' carrots, celery, peas and pineapple, among other foods. The processing step belongs to my tiny 2 cup food processor. Every day is a surprise but the additions are 'human-grade' and nutrient dense for him. Cucumber. a daily delight, is stripped of its seeds, as it should be, before being sliced or 'processed'. Some teeth are missing from root reabsorption so a little 'help' is needed.

Easy peasy is not costly, difficult to prepare or hard to find. Even an apple can get us and them through short term hunger. Turning a simple food into something unrecognizable with high heat, sauces and other ambiguities puzzles me. Why? What is the point? The food was fine, right from the start. Silly to ruin it for what? I do not understand. The shake up in the U.S. food industry is here.  I hope it stays. 

There is nothing more important in life than high quality food for man and beast. ...... Good Luck Dr. RFK Jr.

Fifty, Forty, Thirty or Twenty Years Old

As I surveyed our outdoor  wrought iron furniture I was reminded of its age - over 50 years old. Then I thought of my car, nearly 20. Much of our indoor stuff hovered around 30. Only those items containing a motor of some kind were subject to elimination at some point in their future. Being a mechanical genius gave life to those pieces, oft marginalized, when that skill was missing from its owner. 

Money saved is money needed for another day to pay the bills ensconced in our daily lives for that rescue puppy or near death kitten, still arriving to greet us.  Buying inanimate objects whose trappings encapsulates us for the moment must be eschewed. Poor buying decisions can ruin a life or a lifetime; its frequency, a reminder that tomorrow is coming. Raising children to respect money's power starts with using some of their own money for that special 'gotta have it moment'. 

Vocabulary used to buy or sell can sometime determine the life and longevity of items we use - chairs, tables, sofas, to name a few. Instead of used, preowned or second hand, we give royal life to those items labelled historic, antique or vintage in the hopes that its value is greater, thus a higher price. Know the difference. Buying preowned is a good thing.

We have online shopping and delivery, in a heartbeat. Shopping has never been so easy. quick and in some cases, without thought. An unimaginable side trip with dire consequences awaits. A quick click, here and there, repeated often, can send us towards bankruptcy.

My cell phone was 26 years old when, in short order, my number was lost and sold. The service provider, the oldest in Canada, no longer accepted its duty to the client we were told by its service technicians. Too many people wanting too many things? And who made that happen? Necessity forced us to change again. Connections were in another language. Communication was gone. We were in a wasteland not of our making. No one was listening. We were forced to 'move' again.

I look around and realize the importance of loving not liking the items you buy. If clothing cannot be guaranteed a long future then its purchase must be seriously considered, if not ignored. There is no money tree. Remembering long loved items from a time forgotten helps recall the memories of a life well-lived. Missing out on an item gives rise to one important fact:, I was never meant to have it!

Decades ago our then 7-year-old faced his first buying dilemma. The item he saw in a store was 'yelling' at him. (I had mentioned the emotional context we all have with shopping. Inanimate objects can talk to us, a gut reaction we can't kick easily). A strong emotional connection had been formed not to be dismissed easily. Saying no to him in this instance would have been unfair, I knew. (Self worth matters to a small child). In this instance, the playing field is not level and the child is powerless.  A deal was proposed to give him half of the selling price, tax included. He was happy; the deal with mom, fair.    .  

After working tirelessly to pay for his share, our son ended the deal. He had worked too hard, for too long to waste money on something not that important anymore. His shopping future was waiting with unlimited choices to be made. Companies did not care about his bottom line. He did. Waiting was a valuable tool with a lesson learned. The 'yelling' game or this gut reaction helped determine this buying moment. When money is not spent foolishly we win.

I had moved the decades old 5-foot wrought iron bench to a spot closer to the garage. The work would start this summer. I was ready and able but tired of waiting. Years spent 'weather-waiting' and providing kennel care for a multitude of family fur balls had kept me in a holding pattern. This beautiful outdoor treasure, awash in rust and other weather related horrors suddenly became the attention of another whose skills would do it more justice than I ever could. I was not an artist. He was. 

As I surveyed its current status, recently, I was amazed at the transformation. Like new, in dramatic fashion, with more work to come, however, it was a treasure beyond belief, worth a king's ransom. Nothing like it existed in the marketplace today, I knew. I had seen its potential and so did its new owner. Its beauty, nearly restored and brought back to life, was now a priceless work of art.

Simple. Elegant. Divine.

It lingered long past the visit. The warm feeling felt, stayed with me till the next day at brunch or lunch, not sure which. Stress was knocked out of the park. I would have to wait for more of the delicious meal tomorrow. But at least I had experienced fine dining perfection, again, at this welcoming place of love and caring. And there was no restaurant in sight.

It was just a barbecue our son had said. It did not matter to us, never does. A little girl was becoming two tomorrow. We were seeing her today on that special birthday. It is the people, not the accoutrements that surround them, that matter to me. Wanting to spend time with us mattered to them. How lucky we were. Illness had spread to our families so we kept our distance to be sure. (Easter had been postponed.) We were just the grandparents. Other family would arrive at another time.  But we were here today with  simple clean food that took center stage on this celebratory day. Simple acts, maybe, but not to us.

The special all beef hotdog, on a toasted brioche bun, was delicious. Then the side dishes arrived. It was perfection. Even grandpa, known as silly pops to the girls, was happily engaged. Their attention was on sliced watermelon and the game silly pops had begun with them. A moment in time caught on video.

Sliced red onion, a simple green salad, alongside the simply adorned potato salad with a homemade dressing of lemon juice, mayo, spices were the hits of the party, with cucumbers diced for me by my 3-year-old granddaughter. Simple gestures performed by everyone let us relax and watch. Oh my. Even the large mug of black tea was perfectly delicious today. It did not seem that way at my domicile. What was missing, I wondered?

Her magic touch makes the difference And I had no part to play in this delightful spread. My ever present daughter-in-law made sure everything was perfect. Always is. Her attention to detail is everywhere, especially in the kitchen. (We are both in love with carefully grown and harvested Italian OO flour. Respecting the gluten makes all the difference in the world, it seems)

As the entree was being grilled, the buns were being toasted. Another delightful act of love and yummy. The green salad of romaine, orange bell pepper and tomato with fig balsamic dressing, new to my dressing repertoire, came next, in droplet form, food heaven for me as I ate red onion slices, leaving some for others. Remember, always share. (Red onions increase blood flow to the brain!)

We packed to leave knowing that fussiness is downplayed here. It was always about the people. I learn each and every time. If you are paying attention, learning always happens, slowly and with joy. Simple and plain at home becomes elegant and divine here. How does that happen? I must take copious notes.

Keep the steps clear and concise. At home I do it all. Here, I do very little, if anything at all. We are treated like royalty. There's a skill and nuance that only happens here where my son, 'daughter' and two little girls live. Looking forward to the magical salads tomorrow. Can hardly wait. Am I silly? Probably so. A new day; a new meal made by magical fingers sprinkled with love.