Update on Lindsay and Ryan

Well, we're taking back some of the bad things we've said about Ventura cops because in this case they've been exemplary. Lindsay said they caught the other guy. Sean checked with some police contacts he has as the result of his job at KEYT and they say these two appear to just be losers from Oxnard and not gangbangers or otherwise professional criminals/psychos.

Ryan is healing. He looks as well as can be expected for someone who got the crap kicked out of him. The police and doctors think these guys must have had brass knuckles or quarters or something because the damage to Ryan's face is pretty extensive, although he was very lucky not to have lost or chipped any teeth and he has no apparent skull or jaw fractures.

Lindsay has been dealing with all of the assorted paperwork and appointments, which is considerable between the attack and the truck being demolished. I have to say that it concerns me that Ryan is going through this seeing as he's my astrological twin. I'm finally emerging from quite the little tailspin of my own and the karmic goblins that were affecting me seem to have landed on Ryan. I hope they move on soon.

The police have been great about pursuing this case. They say it's really great that Lindsay called 911 before the first blow was even landed because they were able to catch one of the guys, which isn't often the case in stranger attack.

Singing my little heart out

After all the surgeries and recuperation of the past year, I decided I wanted to do something fun and challenging for myself. I had been reading about the Master Chorale of Ventura County for years when I worked at the newspaper. I had always wanted to join, but because I worked nights, it seemed out of the question. I was assigned a story about the Children's Choir, which is part of the Master Chorale. I remembered how I'd always wanted to join so I auditioned and they let me in on the spot, which was really cool, since none of the other people I was with made it.

I'm really out of shape vocally after having not sung in over 10 years, and it's been hard. This is a pretty rigorous group with high musicianship demands. Part of my problem is that I've been made a soprano. I'm actually a mezzo soprano and have always felt more comfortable as an alto.

The higher notes are a real struggle for me and it's been hard to expand my range. I've often ended up losing my voice by the end of rehearsals, although that's getting better. But I still need to have throat lozenges available to keep me from getting all chocked up in my throat when I sing too high.

Tonight is our first concert. I've been working really hard on the music, but last night when I was singing, reaching really hard for a high note, one of the other choir members came over and said. "You might want to sing that note" -- and she pointed to the high G-sharp "an octave lower because it really isn't ..." and she trailed off and made a face like she smelled something bad.

My confidence shot, I avoided all high notes for the rest of practice and my throat started to tighten, which it does when I try not to sing loud because I think I suck. Sigh. I'll update this after the concert.

Update: The concert went really well. I was able to calm down the more I realized that I was in a choir and so my chances of messing up were greatly decreased. One a side note, I had chili for dinner and note to self: chili isn't really good pre-singing food, what with all the ensuring burping.

On a more serious note, Ryan was hurt last night when he was attacked outside a bar. He, Lindsay and a couple of friends were out and as they left some random guys started yelling at them and followed them out. Then one of them punched Ryan, who went down, he got up and was hit again and the guys kicked Ryan in the head. Lindsay called the police.

She said the 911 call wasn't one of the high points of her life, but I think most of us would be freaked out if someone came and randomly attacked us. The police showed up really fast, which was great and Lindsay says one of the guys ran away and she doesn't know what happened with him. the other guy attacked the police and was, needless to say, arrested. Poor Ryan has a badly broken nose and will require surgery tomorrow.

This just happened a week after Ryan's truck, which was parked on the side of the road was hit and totaled by some drunk driver at 2 a.m., who then tried to flee the scene on foot. As someone who's just been through a karmic black hole, I can only extend my greatest sympathies and hope he gets through all of this crap OK. On the bright side, they seem to have caught two of the guys, and they'll both likely have their entire lives ruined for having done this to Ryan. We can only hope.

Dippity doo-dah

We had a really cool visit from Rick and Marilyn who were out for their annual September trek. Marilyn comes out to babysit Kaia while Gen and Sean go on their honeymoon vacation. Apparently all the kids like to have honeymoon vacations where they celebrate their marriages and honeymoons with second, third, fourth, ad nauseum honeymoons.

Courtney's managed to take a trip each year, no matter how tight money is and Lindsay started off by taking a cruise to mark her one-year anniversary. Gen and Sean take a trip each year, and heck, even Colin and Tracy make note of when they met.

Rob and I, on the other hand, have never had a honeymoon, much less a commemorative vacation. All of our money has always either been tied up in the kids, during the first years, then tied up in trying not to go under, which is making us just like everyone else these days.

We had a break from our subsistence-style life when we invited Rick and Marilyn over. We always have so much fun when we have people over. This was a particularly enjoyable occasion because with Rick and Marilyn here there's always more help, along with more fun. Marilyn is great at helping out and Rick is truly a funny guy to have around.

Our menu for gatherings these days tends to be whatever's on sale. the day before everyone came over, Rob and I decided to go shopping and singled out a local Von's (they're the southern California version of Safeway) that always is well stocked. But when we got there there were all kinds of sample stations and people milling about.

We did our shopping, noticing that the store had some new stuff -- like an olive bar, which always looks fascinating, while frightening at the same time. Soon there was an announcement that at 4 o'clock they would be giving everyone 10 percent off their groceries, along with an additional $10 off coupon for orders over $50. It was 3:30 p.m., so we pulled up a chair at the Starbucks and waited.

By the time we left, there wasn't a place left in the parking lot, and we had everything we needed for our little party. This would include stuff for dips. One consensus that's emerged from our gatherings is a love that exists for old-fashioned sour-cream-based dips. I always make the classic, sour cream and Lipton's soups mix, which is hugely popular and always tastes better than any prepared dip. This time I also made a vegetable clam dip, which I ended up eating most of (oink oink). I also made a cheese dip that we put in Ryan and Lindsay's Crock Pot, for which I used peppers from my garden I roasted, along with some pureed chipotle pepper in adobo sauce.

These aren't gourmet or foodie recipes by any means, but I can assure anyone who is looking down his/her nose, if you put these out, they will be wildly popular.

Crab vegetable dip

1 package Knorr's vegetable soup mix
1 can minced clams, drained (you can also make this with crab meat in addition or in place of the clams)
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 pint sour cream

Spinach dip
(I haven't made this for the kids yet, but it's a perennial favorite and worth listing. The common presentation is in a loaf of bread --preferably the Hawaiian sweet bread, although I prefer a good rye)

1 packaged Knorrs vegetable soup mix
1 can water chestnuts, sliced or chopped
1 pint sour cream

Cheese chipotle dip

1 large package Velveeta (anyone who has made cheese dips knows that Velveeta will make the dip have a much better texture, just real cheese tends to separate and get gross)
4 cups Mexican-style shredded cheese
8 jalapeno chiles, roasted*, peeled and chopped
3 Anaheim chiles, roasted*, peeled and chopped
4 tablespoons pureed chipotle pepper in adobo sauce
heavy cream

Put all ingredients in a Crock Pot on low heat, except for the heavy cream, and allow to melt. Stir regularly. When all the cheese has melted and you've added all the peppers, the dip will be really thick. Add heavy cream to thin to desired consistency. Remember to check and add more cream during the course of the evening, as the dip with tend to thicken.

*There are a number of ways to roast peppers. You can pierce them with a long-tined fork and roast them directly over a stove flame, if you have a gas burner (be careful to use an oven mitt to hold an all-metal fork) . You can roast them, flattened on a cookie sheet, skin-side up, under a broiler. You can also roast them skin side down on an outdoor grill. The common element, is to roast them until the skin is blackened all over. Don't roast with the non-skin side toward the flame. Then put all the blackened peppers in a paper bag and seal it. Let them sit for about 20 minutes and the skins should peel off easily under running water.

Finally fall and chicken Little was right, the sky IS falling

Like everyone we're shaking in our boots as our government works feverishly to avoid the complete and total meltdown of our economic system ... which would be bad. We're hanging in there, but we're having to cut out more and more. Nightly fires are a thing of the past -- the logs are really expensive. We don't eat fast food any more. We're cutting back at the grocery store. In case you haven't noticed, food prices are soaring and the options are becoming limited for good bargains.

It's becoming an art form to try to figure out the day meat goes on sale -- usually Tuesdays and Wednesdays and swoop in a snag a 69-cent a pound chicken, such as the ones I found for our Labor Day feast. I make ground beef into hearty spaghetti a la Bolognese and I pound out the odd sale-priced pieces of pork, bread them and make them into cutlets, which are tasty served with pasta and veggies from our garden.

I'm finding that I tend to do better when faced with adversity. If there is a crisis brewing, there's no time to be depressed or to wallow in misgivings and self-recriminations. Not that I'm masochistic, I do appreciate it when things are going well, but there's something to be said for a respite from mid-life self-reflection.

As usual, I find solace in the kitchen. We've been able to make some really wonderful Salad Caprese with the tomatoes we've managed to grow. Unfortunately, the tomato plants have been attacked by tomato worms. Rob's found a few, but they did a number on the plants. We still have had a bunch of grape tomatoes that I made into a really delicious topping for our steaks one night.

I'm not going to write out a recipe for salad caprese because it's just tomatoes with fresh mozzarella and basil drizzled with oil and vinegar or whatever dressing you like.

The cutlets are just pieces of pork pounded out with a meat mallet between two sheets of plastic wrap until about 1/4 in thickness. Mix some bread crumbs with herbs and spices. I use oregano and sometimes a garlic powder, onion powder and light salt (be really careful adding salt because the Parmesan cheese is salty and the cutlets can become too salty easily).

To make the crumbs adhere to the pork use mayonnaise (it's the idea featured on the side of the jar), it works really well and makes the pork a bit more flavorful. This literally stretches the meat out so it can feed twice as many people, and it's really tasty.

Tomato and provolone-topped grilled steak

2 small steaks, use a cheap cut of meat for this -- it really helps a tough cut of round or chuck
2 cloves garlic
Red wine
Worcestershire sauce
1 pint grape tomatoes
4 or 5 sliced to 1/4 inch Anaheim peppers
Three sliced shallots
olive oil
fresh oregano
fresh thyme
salt and pepper
sliced provolone

Take meat out of the refrigerator about an hour before cooking to bring it closer to the temperature of the grill. Let it sit in a marinade of Worcestershire, red wine and garlic cloves that have been cracked by banging them with the side of the knife and the papery skin removed. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Toss tomatoes, peppers and shallots with olive oil on a high sided baking sheet. Add springs of thyme and oregano and lightly salt and pepper. Place in oven for 20 minutes, stirring halfway through. Grill the meat according to taste -- about 4 to 5 minutes a side. Remove from heat. Let sit for five minutes. Top with grilled veggies and two slices of provolone and place in oven for five minutes, to melt the cheese. Serve.

The best Labor Day ever

Courtney, Dave and the boys came out for a long Labor Day weekend. It's been more than a year since I've seen them. Rob and I haven't really been able to travel what with all the surgeries and in Rob's case there is a specific prohibition against him flying because his eye isn't yet stabilized.

It was great to see them all. The boys are growing up so fast. But it was a delight when it became obvious that Cody remembered our house and remembered me. My very favorite moment was when Courtney, Cody and I went to get some carryout seafood from Andria's Seafood, which is the favorite of locals for fresh, delicious, basic seafood.

After ordering, I waited inside and Courtney took Cody to look at the boats. Cody is at that delightful age when everything is a wonderful and fascinating discovery. He loved the big fishing boats and watching the birds and fishermen working. After I got my order, I went outside and Courtney and Cody were coming up the walk from the docks. Cody looked up and his face lit up and he yelled, "Me-ma!" I replied, "Cody!" and ran over and hugged him. What a cute little guy. He looks so much like my brother Rodger did at that age. Cody has the hardheadedness that runs in the Gamblin family and he's also got a big heart.

Alex is coming into his own and despite lagging a bit in the walking department -- I'm afraid it appears he has inherited my exaggerated sense of personal physical danger. But he's quite precocious verbally and is saying a few words with great gusto. He can say "see" and "uh-oh" and "bye, bye" and his very favorite "no."

The two boys seem well on their way to forming one of those incredibly close, contentious and complex bonds siblings of the same sex who are close in age form.

We went to the beach each day because although we Venturans forget, others love to see our beaches when they visit. And the boys loved the water. Cody kept saying we were visiting Nemo.

Dena and Chris are living in our upstairs, so we had the boys stay here with us and Courtney and Dave spent the nights with Lindsay and Ryan. This arrangement worked out really well for Courtney and Dave, who were able to sleep in and enjoy some time away from the boys. I ended up sleeping with the boys.

The first night they both woke up scared and I took them into my bed. They're both twitchy kids, just like their Me-ma, so sleep was impossible. Cody loves to cuddle, which is no problem, but he can't stay still, So I'd move him away to try to doze off, but he'd always come back over and start wiggling around. Then my lump, which is back, started leaking. I thought the wet spot was the boys, but worse, it was me. The next night they slept in their Pack N Plays, but the third night, Cody came back to bed with me. The fourth night they both slept through the night.

They both had colds and I discovered quickly, it takes a village to keep the snot wiped off their little noses. Those poor boys couldn't pass an adult in this house who didn't grab a tissue and wipe their little noses. We all ended up with colds for our efforts.

We all went out for dinner Sunday night. We wanted to go someplace that would be family friendly. Eventually we settled on Boccalis in Ojai because they have pizza and Italian food, which Dave wanted, and they have picnic benches set outside in a grove of oak trees at the base of the mountains outside of town. It's absolutely gorgeous. One of the amazing things about California, which I've never figured out, is there are very few bugs outside. The air is fresh and cool, but comfortable and on a late summer evening the setting was delightful.

There was a bunch of kids running around and it soon became obvious that they were from different tables. They ranged in age from about 2 to 5 or 6. Cody wanted to play and soon he was just running after the pack, having the time of his life. The highlight of the evening was Cody running by the table, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm running FAST," he yelled. He managed to kiss two little girls, one of whom kicked him. It really was one of those moment of pure happiness and contentment that you file away for those sad days when you need to find a happy place.

I also had a chance to go out with Lindsay and Courtney, something I don't think we've done for years. We had a fun, giggly time. We enjoyed sharing some memories, along with our usual goofiness. It was one of the most happy and relaxed evenings I've had for a long time. There's such a deep connection and bond between the three of us.

The final night, we had everyone over -- Colin, Tracy, Sean, Gen and Kaia, along with Shelby, for a Labor Day dinner. I made heaping mounds of food -- two grilled teriyaki chickens, eight hamburgers, 12 sausages cooked in beer with onions and bay leaves, potato salad, beans, chips and dip. Rob was going to chide me for making too much until everyone just ate and ate and ate. It was great to have everyone over -- a real all-American holiday.

The trip ended way too fast for everyone. Courtney said when they pulled up to the house Cody started yelling, "No." He wanted to go see Nemo again. We haven't worked up the heart to take down the Pack N Plays and car seats, although the toys are all put up. I really miss having them all around, but I'm sure glad they came.

More squash blossoms

We invited Lindsay to join us on our weekly pilgrimage to the Ojai farmer's market yesterday. It's one of those things everyone wants to do until I tell them we get up there around the crack of 9 a.m. because that's when the best flowers are available -- and flowers are the main reason for the trip.

So Lindsay was all excited and gung-ho: we'll give you a call. Then we'll go out to breakfast. Then Sunday morning rolled around and she called and said Ryan didn't want to go, he was still sleeping. I said OK, but Rob smelled a rat and told Lindsay to just come over herself and we'd take her up there with us.

Lindsay called back: Ryan was really up and they'd go up separately. Check mate in the life game of chess we all play.
So we met up with them. It's really easy to spot Ryan in a crowd because he's 6'4" or close to it and he rises above the rest of us. Lindsay complains that he's too tall for her to dance with because she has to strain her back to look up that far.

We wandered around and picked out flowers. I got some more fresh eggs because the farmer's market ones are so fresh and good. I got my weekly allotment of salad greens from B.D.'s market. Then I saw some tiny squashes with squash blossoms at one stand -- these aren't the ones that are sold at the big artichoke, pencil thin really expensive asparagus place. These were much smaller. So I had to get them. I also got some really cool heirloom cherry tomatoes that I'm going to use to create a recipe for the National Chicken contest.

I love my weekly expeditions to the farmer's market. I run into people I know and the drive is so cool up the 33 to Ojai on Sunday mornings. It's kind of my version of church.

I know I've written about stuffed squash blossoms before. But I created a different recipe for them last night and they really came out well. I've been making all kinds of peach cobblers and my peach streusel bundt cake (recipes are on this blog for August 2007), so it was nice to make something else for a change.

Stuffed squash blossoms, take two

1 cup canola oil or enough for 1/2 inch of oil
1 cup flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup milk (or as much as it takes to make a thick paste, about the consistency of pancake batter)
1 teaspoon or to taste Trader Joe's barbecue, grill and broil seasoning (this stuff is great it as no salt and is just peppers, garlic, onion and herbs)
1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
10-15 squash blossoms with squash attached, if possible. Some of these will fall apart because they're very very delicate. Don't worry, just fry each part up separately, remembering to stuff the blossoms with cheese
Pepper jack cheese

Heat the oil until it's rippling and hot and turn down to medium heat. Mix flour, cornstarch, grill seasoning and salt with milk until smooth, pancake-like batter forms. Very carefully separate the blossoms and put pieces of pepper jack cheese in the middle of the blossom. Handle very gently, because these are so delicate. Dip the stuffed blossoms in the batter and coat. Cook battered squash in hot oil and cook about 5 minutes on a side or until golden brown all over. Drain on paper towels. Serve these with jalapeno jelly..

Amputating The Lump

Ever since I was hit by the truck, I've had a big, old lump on my right hip. It just sits out there like a baby's head has been put under my skin. I've had it drained twice, to no avail, so my orthopedic surgeon finally had to go in surgically to try to get rid of the thing.

So last Monday, I had to go in for yet another surgery. Rob and I are becoming quite the surgery connoisseurs. The procedures themselves haven't been so bad, at least not the last two. Rob's eye is sore after and my hip was sore, but we really were hit hard by the anesthesia, which left us both feeling as though we'd been beaten up.

I could actually feel the build-up of lactic acid -- the chemical that makes muscles sore -- in my muscles and I was so sore I couldn't even lift my arms over my head. The pain was untouched by the Vicodin I was prescribed. In fact, it felt as though the Vicodin made it worse. I just felt as though I needed to be flushed out, so I drank a lot of water and by Day Three after the surgery, I was feeling much better.

Right now, the lump is draining, which is good, but it hasn't closed up yet. So I'm not supposed to be doing much moving around, although I did just bake a peach streusel bundt cake, but I can't sit around doing nothing.

This should be the final surgery for all the injuries I sustained in the accident. It will be nice to have a life that's free of doctor's appointments, surgeries and recoveries.

The results are in

The results are in. I got a blue ribbon for the peach pie and a third place for the chocolate chip cookies. The rest got a Big Fat Nada. Oh well. There's no accounting for taste. Everyone who's had the cookies here has LOVED them and that's what counts.

I went to the fair for the results with Dena and Rob this year and they helped find all the entries. Dena was disgusted because the winning zucchini bread had chocolate chips, which just sounds gross and isn't any kind of zucchini bread I'd want. The winning sugar cookies had frosting, which I think is not the way to judge a sugar cookie. IMO it should be just the quality of cookie that's judged.

Anyway, we moved on and went to the commercial tent, which Rob loves and we had lunch. I was able to walk pretty well, although by the end I really needed to sit down and the ankle was quite tender. I'm just glad I can walk as much as I can.

I have one final surgery scheduled. It's to get rid of the lump on my hip. It's, big and round and looks like there's a baby's head on my hip. The doctors have drained it twice but it keeps coming back. Now they're going to try surgery. Some of the doctors think my bursa broke, but they're puzzled because it doesn't hurt as much as one would think a burst bursa should.

It should be an easy surgery, but I do have to go under general anesthesia again -- the third time this year. With any luck, this will be it and I'm all done with the surgeries. I just hope this doesn't make things worse like the first knee surgery did. Otherwise I just want to get it over with.

My garden is going crazy and I'm harvesting zucchinis and cucumbers. I made some zucchini fritters the other night and they turned out really quite well, especially after I added some Parmesan cheese. I ate them with sour cream and they were quite delicious.

Zucchini cheese fritters

1 large (from the garden) or 2 store-bought zucchini, shredded by food processor or by hand
4 tablespoons canola or other high-temperature oil. I used grapeseed oil.
1 large egg
1/4 cup flour
3 tablespoons fresh chopped dill
3 tablespoons fresh chopped Italian parsley
large pinch of salt
pepper
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Heat oil in a large skillet and mix the rest of the ingredients. Spoon mounds onto hot skillet and flatten. Let cook about 5 to 6 minutes a side or until cooked through. Drain on paper towels and serve with dollops of sour cram and a dill garnish.

Blue-ribbon day before the Ventura County Fair.

Right now I'm totally psyched. I always love the day I've got my Ventura County Fair entries in and I can garner all the blue ribbons in my head. Tomorrow, when the fair opens and I actually learn the results, I may be crushed, so today -- well, today is the blue-ribbon day.

These are my leftovers from all the baking I did for this year's entries. Last year the best I got was a second place ribbon and a bunch of honorable mentions. I HATE honorable mentions. What? This-didn't-poison-me-but-it-wasn't-very-good-mention? Forget it, just tell me I suck.

But rather than tucking my tail between my legs, I came back, bigger and better than ever this year. I've been doing some researching and did some major tweaking of my recipes. I was able to make a real woven lattice crust for my peach pie and I was able to use my own peaches from my own tree this year -- they've been too late in ripening the past two years. Actually, I was only able to get enough peaches for one pie and a couple of those had to be force-ripened. (BTW you know that to force-ripen fruit, you put it in a sealed paper bag with a ripe banana and the banana will release that fruit-ripening gas that will ripen all the fruit.)

I made sure to use the best ingredients: Plugra European-style butter, which has a higher butterfat content, and King Arthur flour -- widely belived to be the best around. I used fancy Vietnamese cinnamon from Penzey's spices and I had a couple of types of sugar -- extra fine and organic, crunchy sugar. I couldn't find extra fine grain salt, which is better for baking, so I ground the salt by hand in a mortar and pestle. I put actual vanilla bean in the sugar cookies. So we'll see if any of this is noticed by the judges.

There is one kind of amusing aside: When I went to enter my stuff, there was the usual contingent of older women processing the entries. It takes a while, so we got to chatting and before you know it, we were all swapping notes on our surgeries -- my knee replacement, the other woman's hip replacement. I was able to counter -- and trump -- the eye problem story with Rob's eye surgeries.

As I left, I realized: These are my peeps these days. Me and all the other old ladies, sitting around talking about our surgeries. If I'd stayed longer, I'm sure we could have moved on to grandchildren and pets.

Sigh. When did I get so old and why did it happen when I'm still so -- relatively -- young?

Doggie palace

We're still knee-deep in pets because Patty is feeling too porrly to have her girls come home just yet. It's great for us, though because the two nbew dogs are really sweet and have adjusted to living with us. We've switched their diet from the nasty generic dog food to dry Evo food, which we prefer because it's manufactured locally and uses all-natural products better suited for dogs.

I'm gearing up for the Ventura County Fair where I will, once again, be entering some baked goods. I'm thinking of adding a couple of entries -- zucchini bread because my zucchini has put out a really cool looking cojoined zucchini that's just dying to be put in a bread, and peanut butter cookies. I've narrowed down the sugar cookie recipe from five, so we'll see how the judges are going this year. My peaches are on track to give me at least one good pie's worth, which will be the first time in three years they ripened in time.

I don't know why I get all psyched for the stupid baked goods contest each year but I do. Even the fact that I got lousy -- for me -- marks last year (stupid honorable mentions), doesn't deter me. I totally get that these food contests are really arbitrary. I know because I've judged them. Like everybody, I rank foods on personal preferances, which are different from the next person's.
Nonetheless, I have a few tricks up my sleeve this year and hope I do well.

I've never figured out why I totally love the Ventura County Fair. I think it's the combination of things. I love that it's right on the ocean at Seaside Park. I love that there are all the local crafts, hobbies and foods. Rob and I love looking at all the different displays. We tend to avoid the animals because they're being sold to slaughter, which makes us sad, but we take Kaia there and don't tell her about the butchering part.

We also just love taking Kaia with us each year and get such joy out of watching her ride whatever she wants to ride and play whatever games she wants to play. When I was a kid, going to fairs and amusement parks was always a study in misery. My mom never gave us any money and she'd never let us ride on most of the rides. I always made sure my kids had enough money and unlimited opportunity to do whatever their little hearts desired. But I really get to relive my childhood with Kaia, probably because she's not my kid, so I don't have to play the mom role, I can just be a much older, doddering friend.

So next week it's time for the fair. There will be fireworks each night, which we can hear and kind of see from our house. It's my favorite part of the summer.

A fur menagerie

It was Rob's birthday yesterday and unlike last year, I was able to spend it here with him. We had a good day: breakfast at Pete's, shopping, I baked a cherry pie and Lindsay and Ryan came over for a great steak dinner. Colin dropped by later with Dexter.

We're also watching Dena's mom's dogs while Patty (Dena's mom) is in the hospital. The dogs are really cute; a small white poodle named Titan and a shi-tzu name Stache or Stash, for moustache. The poodle Titan spent the first day on the stairs, waiting for Patty to come back. Stash, the little one, worried about Titan, but really started having a good time with the other dogs. Brindle saw Patty with her new dogs -- Brindle had lived with Patty for years -- and has been angry with the latest interlopers, but Fuser and Rascal seem OK with the new guys.

I think if anyone had told me when I was 20 that I would turn into one of those little-dog-loving old ladies, I would have balked, gagged and denied it vehemently. I had always liked the idea of animals, but my family was never really an animal family. Even though we had family dogs, they were treated like animals.

It wasn't until Rob came along that I really started to appreciate pets. Jersey was our first pet together. I had promised the kids I'd get them a dog. We went to the local Humane Society-type place, but they wouldn't let us have a dog unless we had a note from our apartment complex. I didn't want to get one because we would have to pay extra for our rent. So I decided to hell with them and went to a store and bought a cocker spaniel, Jersey.

The idea was to let the dog sleep with the kids, but Rob took his turn sleeping with Jersey and wouldn't let her leave our bed. Jersey was a really pretty dog, although she had an underbite that made her less than ideal for breeding, even though she was AKC registered. We wouldn't have bred her anyway, but it was kind of a ripoff. She was also the cutest little dog, along with being imperious and temperamental. She absolutely detested other dogs. She kind of liked little white fluffy ones, but Rob says she thought they were kitties.

Sadly, Jersey died when she was about 15 1/2. It broke our hearts. I lasted a few months, but I really needed my doggy loving, so I started looking for another dog. Dena had given us the idea of getting a small dog -- maybe a King Charles Spaniel or something. We really didn't want another cocker spaniel because we could never replace Jersey. We found a group online -- Four Small Paws -- and I contacted them saying we would like to adopt a dog. About a week later, I got a call from a lady saying they had a small dog who needed a home. We arranged to have her come out. She said he was a chihuahua mix, and I'd always thought chihuahuas were kind of ratty dogs.

The lady showed up with the little guy she called Chewy. He immediately proceeded to walk to the fireplace and started peeing on the fireplace irons. At least he got that out of the way. He then sat next to the Four Small Paws lady and shook. He looked so scared. I showed her around the house and she must have liked what she saw because she left the dog with us.

We immediately decided we didn't like the name Chewy and because he was a rescue and had only had the name a short while, we changed it to Fuser -- after Motorcycle Diaries, where Che Guevara was called Fuser. Rob came up with the name after I ruled out all the stupid names, like Pepe or Paco, although we did struggle with calling him Lord Peepee because the little guy does like to mark. He bonded with me because I took him in my lap the first day and just held him and talked gently to him because he was so scared. He started to calm down.

Fuser hated Rob at first, so we took him to obedience classes so we could get him over his dislike. It really didn't work. What worked was me going to Ohio for Cody's birth. One of the problems with trying to train Fuser is that he's the most non-food driven dog I've ever met. He'd starve before letting Rob feed him at first. Fuser gets really nervous around food and can be a flighty eater. But there is one thing Fuser can't live without -- one thing that's more important to him than almost anything else and it's cuddling. After I left, he was stuck hanging out in the bedroom and growling at Rob when he came in the room. After a couple of days, though Fuser couldn't take it and came out into the living room. He then crawled up next to Rob to cuddle, but if Rob looked at him, he growled. He's come a long way since then and really loves Rob now.

Brindle came to live with us shortly after. We'd watched her for Patty from time to time and then Patty went to Oregon and asked us to watch Brindle and she never asked for her back. Since Brindle is actually Dena's dog, I think Dena decided to have us keep Brindle so she would be close to her. Fuser and Brindle formed a really close bond. Brindle has taught Fuser how to behave out in the world. Where Fuser was afraid of his own shadow, Brindle has taught him how to handle bigger dogs -- she goes submissive -- and how to run around and smell things.

Finally, we got Rascal. Lindsay's roommate Coral found him wandering around filthy and half-starved in Oxnard. She thought he was a brown dog because he was so dirty, but when they washed him, they found out he was white. Lindsay brought him over here and we got one more dog. Poor Rascal is our "special" dog. He was badly affected by the neglect of his early time and he has a real hard time learning new things. He's the biggest of the dogs and the most timid.

These guys are in addition to our two cats, Mythos and Lily, both joined our home by coming to our door and crying to be let in. Mythos is about 17 pounds and is the second biggest pet. He thinks he's a dog. He has to run outside with them and wants to have his belly rubbed. Lily is pure cat. She comes around when she wants to and she'd as soon look at you as scratch you. In fact, she got me up today by sitting at the side of my bed and hitting me with her claw.

We love our animals and they give us so much joy. They have such distinct personalities and they show unconditional love and affection.

So there we were on Rob's birthday with six dogs running around while we had steaks with baby potatoes and scallions I got at the farmers market. I made up a big salad with frisee and bibb lettuce, also from the Ojai farmer's market. I served the pie up on some beautiful plates Jennifer got me. All in all it was a lovely birthday celebration.

Ain't no time for the summertime blues

So here we are, sitting around on a beautiful sunny summer day in Ventura. Our major surgeries appear to be behind us and we're both working on healing and regaining at least some of our former strength and endurance.

Rob has been declared officially disabled because he is legally blind in his bad eye and can't drive or operate heavy machinery. We're not sure how much better his sight is going to be. We have to wait until he's fitted with glasses to know exactly where he'll end up.

I'm walking almost cane-free for the first time in a year. My knee feels almost completely healed. It swells sometimes if I'm on it too much and is a little stiff going up and down stairs. But mostly it's pretty strong and flexible and there's no pain when I walk on it.

My bad right ankle is proving a bit more dicey than I had realized. The foot wants to collapse inward, despite the metal rod stuck through it. It's also screwed on at a weird angle. My heel hits normally when I put on shoes, but my toes are riveted to the side -- a 10-degree angle my doctor said, proudly. Only thing is, my feet really don't WANT to be at a 10-degree angle and are perfectly happy just being straight up and down like everyone else's.

I'm not sure if there's much I can do about it. I bought some running shoes with lots of support to force the foot into an upright position. My physical therapist, Ryan, said if I didn't get into the support shoes the ankle was sure to collapse. It kind of looks as though I have two left feet right now. But I am able to walk and I can stand in lines a bit better than I used to. I'm hoping the tendon will continue to heal and the situation will improve.

I'm also stuck with a big old lump on my right hip. I need to see my doctor about it, but it doesn't hurt or anything. It's just gross-looking -- like a small baby's head just sticking out of my hip, with skin all puckered up under it. And I'm so sick of going to the doctor that I've been avoiding it. I suppose I should get it out of the way, but it will require some surgery to debride it, which will hurt, at least for a little while.

All in all, though, we're starting to be able to see some light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I'm able to get around and I'm doing more stories for the Ventura County Star, which is fun. I really should never have gone to the copy desk. It's not where my heart lies. I really enjoy writing and gathering news much more. And I really, really love freelancing. I don't enjoy working with people; they get on my nerves for the most part. I can sit at home in my office/dining room, with the big, glass window that overlooks our thriving garden and plant-filled patio, and listen to birds as I type my stories. Sweet.

Fair time is looming and I want to at least enter a couple of things. So this is one of my favorite times of the year as I start making some trial recipes to decide what to enter. Gen, of Sean and Gen, was saying she wanted to maybe enter and encouraged her. It's so much fun. Even if you do end up with the dreaded "honorable mentions" that I got last year.

One of the things that happens in the summer for me is I get a small sweet tooth, mainly because of ice cream. Like about everyone, I love ice cream. I've discovered those teenie little Ben & Jerry's and Haagen Daas containers. They give you just one small serving, which is usually 260 calories. They come with small spoons so you can eat them really slowly. I love them because you keep your portions under control and you can get a nice taste of yummy ice cream.

Unfortunately, I also made another, potentially lethal discovery last summer when I was visiting Courtney and Dave in Ohio. I discovered you can make an absolutely wonderful, tasty hot fudge sauce just using the microwave. It's also possible to make this in a low-carb version if you use unsweetened chocolate and Splenda, which I did for Courtney, who is on a low-carb plan.

This is so easy to make and one thing I love is that the sugar doesn't have a chance to melt, so it gives it a nice crunch, along with the deep fudge flavor. And it hardens on the ice cream the way good fudge should -- not quite as hard as Magic Shell, it's more fudgy.

Microwave hot fudge sauce

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (use the best quality available -- I use Gharadelli's -- it makes all the difference)
2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon almond flavoring
heavy cream to desired consistency

Heat the chips in a microwave-safe mug by heating them on high for 20 seconds. Stirring, then heating for 20 seconds, then stirring, repeating until the chips have melted. Add butter and stir in. Add sugar, vanilla and almond flavoring and stir. You can heat it for another 20 seconds if it starts to thicken too much. Add heavy cream and stir until you have the consistency of hot fudge sauce. Heat for 20 seconds and serve over ice cream. It's unbelievable over coffee ice cream, BTW.

Fresh garbanzo beans

I first noticed them as I was making my way up what's known around here as The Avenue. The Avenue is Ventura Avenue and most people in Ventura are terrified of it because it's the main street through the Hispanic/Latino part of town. We live in a really great subdivision off the northern part of The Avenue, so it's often the easiest way home.

Among the panaderias and meat shops are produce shops. During the past few months, one of them, which usually has a truck parked out front with various seasonal vegetables and fruits, has featured big bundles of green stuff that looked hay-like with little green bulbs on it. They seemed to go fast. I was dying to know what they were, but usually when I pass I have a car full of doggies, fresh from their daily run at Cemetery park, which is a de facto dog park.

Then I had to cover a story in Moorpark about four Girl Scouts who've written a book. I usually try to avoid going the fastest way, which entails going down the 101 to Thousand Oaks and taking the 23 out to Simi Valley. I've never been a big fan of freeway driving, and my skittishness has only been made worse by getting hit by a truck. So I take the back way, using the 118, which winds through the beautiful Ventura County farmland through Somis. I may lose 7 minutes, according to Google maps, but it's worth it.

To get to the 118, you have to take the 126 toward Santa Paula and get off at Wells Road. As I was going down Wells, I noticed a dude with a pickup selling produce on the side and he had the weird green bundles. I stopped on the way home to check them out. Of course the guy who was selling them didn't speak English. "What are these?" I asked. "Five," he answered. "OK. Five dollars is fine. But what ARE they?" I asked, to no avail. No one standing around the cart was in any mood to speak English. I opened one of the pods and saw what looked like a green garbanzo beans, so I figured that's what they were. Fresh garbanzo beans.

I paid my $5 and took my bundle home. I looked it up on the Internet and, yes, they ARE fresh garbanzo beans. The next task was to shell them. I pulled all the pods off the plants, then brought them inside to shell. The entire process took about four painstaking hours.

I then cooked them up and made them into a delightful pasta dish. I tossed the pasta with the cooked beans and some roasted garlic that I'd grown. It was fantastic. Rob, of course, didn't like it. But Dena ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner for days.

I had left the beans on the counter and was going to buy some fresh lock plastic bags to store them, but they went bad overnight and sprouted. It's a good thing the dish I made was as good as it was or I would have been really, really mad about spending four hours shelling beans only to make one dish.

Fresh garbanzo and roasted garlic linguine

1 pound whole wheat pasta (not the "whole grain" stuff), cooked al dente
2 cups fresh garbanzo beans
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 bunches scallions, cut into small pieces
1 head roasted garlic (drizzle head of garlic with olive oil and wrap in aluminum foil. Put in 350 degree oven for 1 hour)
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese

Heat olive oil in nonstick skillet. Add garbanzo beans and scallions and cook, tossing. Taste the beans and when they're warmed through and a little crusty, stop. Toss with the pasta. Add cheese and squeeze the garlic cloves out on the pasta. Toss everything together and serve.

I outdid myself this time

 

Times are tough. I'd say things are about as bad as I can remember, and I became an adult just in time to encounter WIN (Whip Inflation Now, for you youngsters) buttons. Passing a gas station these days causes a spontaneous clenching of the rectum, even if you own a small, 4-cylinder car like we do, having always eschewed SUVs. Food prices are soaring and "specials" are becoming fewer and further between.

There's really not much comfort in knowing that everyone is feeling the pinch these days. In my book, misery really doesn't love company because then misery has to listen to company complain about all of his/her problems and, seriously, I hate to whine just to be pre-empted by someone else's tales of woe. Sure things could be a lot worse, but that sentiment really takes the winds out of the sails of the bitch ship, doesn't it?

So when Lindsay said she and Ryan were coming over for dinner and that they would bring the salad, I looked for the least expensive way to make a really tasty meal for us without paying much money. One thing Rob and I have noticed is that it's often less expensive to buy 15 pounds of meat than it is to buy 2 pounds. So we often end up with the "family" sized packages and I make enough for us to eat for two or three days, but we still end up throwing out an inordinate amount of food.

I went shopping for a meal by looking for what's on special, which is how I plan meals in tough economic times. Boneless, skinless, chicken breasts were selling for the same price as boneless, skinless thighs, which were also on sale. Since we're all also trying to eat healthier, I got the breasts. I also noticed pineapples were on sale and, using a trick from Cook's Illustrated (you pull one of the leaves from the top of the crown and if comes out easily the pineapple is ripe) I picked out a good one.

There had also been a sale of Trader Joe's Soy-yaki sauce, which is a version of Veri Veri Teriyaki. I'd also picked up some Trader Joe's grill seasoning because it really looked good (it has garlic, onion and all kinds of pepper flakes and cumin seeds).

Some neighbors had also stopped by a few days ago with a big bag of apricots they were looking to unload. Ventura County use to be one of the top apricot producers in the country. In fact, one of our local towns, Moorpark, was named after an apricot. With a surfeit of fruit and a teryaki theme, my idea of making a warm fruit salad seemed a logical extension.

The resulting dish was really quite tasty, if I may say so myself. In fact I outdid myself this time.

We use the phrase "outdid yourself this time" in memory of a repulsive friend of my nephew Sean who came to stay with us for a few months after we bought our house back in 2001 (the best investment of my life -- even AFTER the market crash).

Kyle was a smarmy ass who wove fanciful tales about his acting and pretty much everything else. One day I'd prepared a meal and invited the boys down for a taste. Kyle came up to me, his sunglasses dangling from his shirt in that completely asshat way of the clueless. He swung his arm around my shoulders -- a very unwelcome gesture -- and proclaimed, "Anne, you've really outdone yourself this time," in his best, booming man-voice. OK Kyle? I don't even KNOW you so how the hell would you know if I've even "done myself" this time, much less "outdone myself." Of course the phrase is now part of the family lexicon.

This recipe combines ease of preparation with wallet-friendliness.

Teryaki chicken and grilled fruit salad

4 whole skinless, boneless chicken breasts cut into two pieces
6 chicken legs (these are usually inexpensive and people love them)
Veri Veri (or Trader Joe's Soy-aki) Teriyaki sauce (the kind with sesame seeds)
Trader Joe's barbecue grill & broil seasoning (this is salt free with mustard, red pepper flakes, garlic and onion flakes, thyme and whole cumin)
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger

Place chicken in container and cover with teryaki, seasoning and ginger and let marinade for a half hour in the refrigerator. Remember, the chicken should be always refrigerated as it is a veritable petri dish of bacteria. You should never marinate chicken breasts more than about a half hour or the meat gets mushy; chicken meat is pretty delicate. Grill over low flame (I preheat the grill on high and then lower it just before I put the chicken on) for about 10 to 15 minutes a side (start with 10 minutes on each side and then turn and cook as needed to cook the chicken through)

Fruit salad
1 whole fresh pineapple, cut up into 8 spears, with each spear cut in half
10 whole apricots, pitted and cut in half
2-3 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon grated ginger
Juice of 1 orange
1/4 cup coarsely chopped mint leaves

Put the fruit in a plastic bowl. Mix the honey, mint, ginger and orange juice and pour over the fruit. Let sit for about 15 minutes. Take the fruit out, leaving the juice behind, and grill using either a grill skillet, which we have (it's a skillet with holes all around the bottom, that's designed to be used on a grill) or make an aluminum cooking tray by folding a sheet of heavy-duty aluminum in half and poking holes through it. Grill over high heat for about 5 to 10 minutes or until the pineapple just starts to color. Put fruit back in with the juice and toss. Place mint leaves on top.

But you might not want to serve this just after someone has passed a gas station, because I don't know about you, but I lose my appetite each time I see how much the stuff costs.

The family trunk

I've been saying for a while that the pictures of Cody show that he's looking more and more like my younger brother Rodger looked as a kid. Of course, no one listened. Or if they did, they dismissed me with a so-what? So when Courtney sent me this photo, I put it next to a picture of Rodger and me from our childhood. Both are looking in the same direction and, to me, the similarity is eerie.

Of course Rob said, "Cody looks like your brother and you're surprised? It's not exactly like your family tree has branches -- it's more like the family trunk." That Rob's a funny guy.

It's just the big, old head atop the small neck that looks the same. And Cody has the habit of pulling his upper lip up and out, the way Rodger used to.

I remember taking the picture with Rodger. I'd just stolen his toy tractor. We'd both been given toys to carry for the picture and I had my rag doll and Rodger had this tractor. Of course, seeing Rodger with anything that gave him pleasure always was a source of great annoyance to me. My mom always tried to tell me that I felt this way because I was evil and black-hearted, but I've spoken with other older brothers and sisters and we all agreed that we had but one mission in our young lives -- to make sure that these new, younger, cuter upstarts that our mothers produced and preferred, got nothing. Ever.

So in this picture I'm gloating and Rodger's about to go after his tractor, which he wasn't allowed to because of the pictures. There's an entire series. In the next photo he has his hand out reaching for the tractor. In the final one there's just me, holding the tractor; grinning in absolute triumph. Rodger's not in the picture because by this time he was in tears. Mission accomplished.

It's weird, almost 50 years later, I can remember it all. I remember HATING the short hair my mom insisted I have -- she always sought to be "different and original." I used to put towels on my head to pretend I had long hair. My first act of self-determination was to grow my hair and to this day I abhor short hair, especially on me.

As far as our ongoing medical battles, Rob and I are now in the recuperation period. Rob's eye is healing nicely and his vision is about where it should be, the doctor assures us. I'm walking better all the time. I pretty much ignore all the physical therapy exercises and instead walk and garden and do housework all in an effort to get back to "normal." It seems to be working because even though I had to skip an appointment/torture course, I was actually doing better and had increased my range of motion.

We're almost functional. I was able to get Rob to L.A. without help and I can actually shop for groceries again.

People ask me all the time about the knee replacement and right now, I don't have a lot of good to say about it. I suppose it's because my knee really wasn't in terribly bad shape until right at the end. It was a little sore and swollen, but I could walk on it just fine when they did the first MRI, which showed all kinds of problems. By the time I had the surgery, the knee had frozen and couldn't bend at all. But it had been that way for just a couple of months.

Most people who get knee replacement surgery have been limping around for years getting ever more invasive procedures. When they finally get the surgery, they rejoice to not have the pain and disability. For me, the surgery came quickly after the complete collapse, so I'm not feeling quite the sense of relief.

It's really hard to learn to walk again. I have to remind myself with each step how to walk -- heel, sole, toe. Bend the knee. Extend the knee. I have a tendency to do a stiff Frankenstein walk and I have to continually stop and tell myself to walk correctly. I'm still using the cane because the knee will still give from time to time, but I put less and less weight on it. It's also become painfully apparent that each and every pound of extra weight I'm carrying is an extra burden on my knees, so I'm watching what I eat.

All in all things are definitely looking up, although both of us are ready to say adios to this little time in our lives.

A rare treat

 

This photo is completely overexposed (it's hard to see that teenie little screen on my camera without glasses, but I can't take pictures with reading glasses on because they blur things far away ... yet another joy of aging), so I got creative. Anyway, if you're wondering, it's soft-shelled crabs with almond slivers.

I had to do an interview with some ladies about the local symphony's fundraiser and we met at the Promenade at Westlake -- a shopping center in Thousand Oaks, which just also happens to have the closest Bristol Farms gourmet grocery store. For some reason the corporate powers that be have decreed Ventura as not having the right "socioeconomic profile" to deserve a gourmet grocery store. This, despite the fact that the average home is worth well over $500,000 and that our downtown houses to a booming restaurant trade.

So if I want anything more than what the local big chains offer -- Von's, Ralph's and on the west side, the world dirtiest Albertson's -- I have to go either to Santa Barbara or Thousand Oaks, both equa-distant on either side of Ventura. It's probably a good thing because every time I get near a gourmet market I'm like Carrie Bradshaw in the Bloomingdale's shoe department -- devoid of all reason besides that of acquisition.

Adding to my manic mood was the fact that I'd survived another week of turmoil. Rob was called into eye surgery last Wednesday. After repairing his retina, the doctor lets it heal. The eyeball is left lens-less and filled with oil during this repair process. According to Rob's doctor, patients are left like this for up to a year, but Rob heals exceptionally well, so they were ready to give him a new lens after five months. The second operation is where Rob gets his new lens (now we both have artificial parts) and the oil is drained and replaced by gas or air, which will itself eventually be replaced by viscous fluid Rob's body will produce.

An opening came up after we raised a stink trying to find out when the surgery was scheduled -- Kaiser Permanente in West Los Angeles has a real problem with the whole scheduling concept. This meant that I had to drive Rob to L.A. for what we were told was a 9 a.m. appointment. Of course, the surgery wasn't actually scheduled until 2 p.m. -- this is what I man about scheduling.

To get anywhere in L.A. at 9 a.m. from Ventura means getting going at at least 6 a.m. Los Angeles traffic is unpredictable and impossible. There's no way to tell, coming in from the north, when, exactly, you're going to get anywhere. Traffic stops usually in Calabasas and is bumper to bumper pretty much through the L.A. area.

We decided to take the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) because the 101/405 interchange, justifiably rated as the worst in the country in most rankings, is always a nightmare. The PCH is risky, though, because it's two lanes in many places and there's also construction, so it can come to a grinding halt easily. Even so, it's nicer to be stuck in traffic with waves lapping the rocks on the side of the road than it is to be stuck in the vast wastelands of The Valley.

Rob and I ended up having to sit around -- he in his hospital gown with a saline drip -- waiting five hours for the surgery. We would have pitched a fit, but we've learned that there are certain places -- Kaiser Permanente West Los Angeles, being one of them -- where the time/space continuum is warped and resistance, as they say, is futile. Unlike the island on Lost, it's not a cool space/time rift, it's just a pain in the ass -- the ass that gets sore just sitting around.

I took off as soon as they wheeled him off because I was exhausted and he was going to be drugged after surgery and probably wouldn't need visitors. I know I didn't really need visitors when I was coming off my knee replacement. Extreme pain and discomfort tend to demand a lot of attention and it's hard to entertain, even minimally.

The surgery went well and Rob was released the next day. It was pretty hilarious at the hospital because they had to keep wheeling Rob around because he was a patient and there I was hobbling along on my new knee with my cane, looking far more in need of assistance.

After all of this, I was really in the mood to get some nice, little treat at Bristol Farms and I knew just the thing. In late May it's soft-shell crab season. When I lived in Ohio, the local gourmet store -- the incomparable Dorothy Lane Market -- used to carry them. Here, in California it's so far away from the Mid-Atlantic Coast where the crabs molt each year, that finding soft- shelled crabs is next to impossible. Sometimes, I'll order them at sushi places -- they're frozen and dipped in tempura batter. But they're not really the same.

Lo and behold, and much to my delight, Bristol Farms actually had the crabs and they weren't frozen. They were actually alive. I was so psyched I overlooked the $25 a pound price tag and got three. I had the butcher clean them, which is good because I tend to bond with living things.

I prepared them as I always do -- simply and deliciously. When I had my food column in the Ventura County Star, I ran this recipe and someone wrote me and chastised me for making it so simple. They seemed to feel that I needed to make up some kind of heavy batter to "properly" fry soft-shelled crabs. Yuk! When you get a great ingredient -- a once-every-10-years ingredient -- you don't muck it up with all kinds of distracting elements. No! You cook it as simply and as well as you can. After all that's the point of a special treat.

I bought Rob a sirloin steak on sale -- which at Bristol Farms means it costs less than $30 a pound -- and prepared it simply on the grill. The steak was amazingly good, especially for a sirloin. I had my soft-shelled crabs and they were every bit as delicious and wonderful as I'd hoped and remembered.

If you ever come across them, here's the recipe that perfectly frames the wonderful culinary sensations that are soft-shelled crabs.

Soft-shelled crabs amandine

olive oil
butter
3 soft-shelled crabs, cleaned
1 cup flour
1/2 cup slivered almonds

Heat olive oil and butter in skillet. Dredge crabs in flour. I don't season the flour because I find the taste of the crabs to be a bit salty and I don't like the way pepper tastes with this (frankly, I think pepper is overused, but that's a whole different topic). Cook crabs over medium heat until browned on both sides. Add almonds when you flip the crabs over, after cooking about 4 to 5minutes. Serve crabs with almonds on top.

I just serve them with a salad. I love the crunch and saltiness of the crabs combined with the almond flavor.

Despite everything, this meal was totally worth it.

Rehab/physical therapy/disability

This is a picture of one of my favorite recent weekly flower arrangements, larkspur and Queen Anne's Lace. I get flowers each week at the Ojai farmers market; it's my "thing."

I'm struggling with a sense of being actually "disabled." Up to now, I've maintained that everything that's happening to me is temporary and I'll be walking like my old self in no time. I mean, I went to the doctor last May 31, complaining that my ankle hurt and my joints -- knees and hips were achy. And while that would have been enough for most people, I had to go and get hit by a truck just days after -- June 5 -- and everything has gone downhill precipitously since then.

What was a tender ankle turned out to be a torn tendon, which has been surgically repaired, but is still sensitive and weak. Then my knee completely collapsed on itself and I now have a new knee -- and a "knee card" (more later). Everyone is really excited about how well I'm doing post-surgery, but I can't help but wonder how well I'm really doing.

The bad part is that I never wanted to be one of those old people who sat around worrying about her health, and now look at me. I'm up to walking with a cane and can finally make it to the first bench at the dog park (there are three benches at various points each farther away from the car and each -- at this point -- a milestone of sorts).

Perhaps it's the physical therapy that's making me feel so glum. Anyone who's had any kind of orthopedic surgery can tell you that one of the main components of treatment in today's world is physical therapy. It's especially important for knee (and hip) replacement because the body has a tendency to form scar tissue after being wounded so profoundly (cutting off the ends off bones counts as "profound" in my book). As a result, the first thing they do post-surgery is have the physical therapy people come in and get you back on your feet.

This is OK by me. The whole point of subjecting myself to all this pain and discomfort is so that I can walk again, so I'm all about getting up and at it. Of course, the first physical therapist they sent in was about 5 feet tall and 100 pounds, if she'd eaten a really big meal. I asked her when she was getting me up for my first walk what, exactly, she planned to do if I DID go down. I'm not exactly a tiny person, and the laws of gravity are, shall we say, amplified in my case. In other words, I'll go down hard. She just grinned nervously.

Since the hospital stay I've had a physical therapist come to the house for the immediate post-surgery work and now I go to the office. The thing I'm struggling with, though, is that unlike previous gym work, this doesn't make me feel good in any way. In fact, after every session, my knee is swollen at least to twice the size it was when I went in and it's painful and weak for at least a day or two.

I can't figure out why this is supposed to be a good idea. I'm all about getting up and being active. I was cooking the first week home from the hospital. I've planted a lot of my spring flowers, even though I require a lot of help from Rob. I do my exercises all the time and ice my knee religiously. But I move at a pace that makes my leg stronger. I push past mild pain -- they DID cut my quadriceps and it's taking a while to heal and become strong again, but I quit when it really hurts. The physical therapy people only seem to feel I'm doing good work if tears are streaming from my face.

The bottom line for me is that I've become really attuned to my body and it's structural workings and I really don't understand how pushing it to the point of agony is going to heal it.

I wish there were some realistic guide to recovery out there. Martha Stewart had a hip replacement last year, but she likes to be all tough and heroic and it was announced that she was "back to work" in five days. This is unfair to the rest of us, who can't afford to hire the best therapists and medical staff and have to scrape by with whatever managed care allows. It's also not fair because it's simply not true. There is no one who is going to recover from joint replacement after 5 days and it makes those of us who are struggling with our own recoveries feel inadequate.

Watching closely I've noticed that Martha still is careful about her bad hip, but she doesn't allow it to be shown on camera, which is too bad for those of us who are looking to her to have a realistic idea of how the healing process will proceed. It's really hard to learn to walk again when a significant joint has been replaced by a mechanical one. It's hard to get the muscles to learn to work with a made-made prosthesis.

I suppose my point is that it would be a lot easier for me to recuperate if I could get a little less of a boot camp attitude from everyone. I'm not some green recruit who needs to be bullied into accomplishment.

Sigh. I suppose a few weeks from now when I'm walking better this will all seem whiny and self-involved -- at least that's what I'm hoping for.

Oh yeah, back to the "knee card." I'm now the proud carrier of a card that shows an x-ray of my new knee along with my doctor's name so I can go through security checkpoints. That's right. From now on, I'll always have to be carefully wanded down to get on planes -- cool huh?

Another thing: Maybe my disappointment is stemming from the fact that my new knee turns out NOT to be bionic. Seriously. I've tried jumping over the car and NOTHING. Damn!

He's dead to me

I was given the assignment of covering a Berry Blast-off recipe contest for the Star. I've covered a million little community things over the years, so I know the drill. This was going to be an Iron Chef-style competition for the best strawberry recipe that didn't need to be baked.

I was sitting there when Tracy Lehr from KEYT News stopped by and said her camera guy was on his way. The KEYT camera guy is Sean -- my nephew. So I'm sitting at the judges table when I hear my name and turn around to face a camera lens about 10 inches from my nose.

After establishing that we were both there to cover the same thing, I told Sean "Make sure I'm not in any shots." When I have full use of my legs, I tend to follow the cameraman around -- then I'm never in any pictures. But since I'm hobbled, I issued the directive.

It was actually a good thing Sean was there because even though I'd called ahead to inform them I was on crutches -- I NEVER EVER want to go through what happened to me in Vegas -- no one informed me that the entrance to the cook-off area was behind the Courtyard Marriott. So I went in the main entrance and had to walk down a really long hall, take a left, walk completely down another hall to reach the area. I was bitching about this to Sean, who then offered to move my car, which was really nice and useful.

But after, when I was working on my story at home, I got a phone call from Sean -- we have individual rings for family members and Sean and Gen's is the Star Spangled Banner. He said, "You might be on TV. You might be eating something. And it MIGHT be coming on in a couple of minutes." I responded with death threats and he just laughed.

No one was home and no one answered when I called their cells, but I finally got in touch with Kim -- my friend. I needed to commiserate. The piece aired and there I was, crutches and all, eating something, as promised.

One of the ways Rob and I will never be native Southern Californians is that we HATE having our pictures taken. For me, it's because I can maintain some self-delusion about how well I'm aging. Photographs burst my little bubble. I like the fantasy. Or as Judd Hersh put it on Numb3rs, "as long as I stay away from all reflective surfaces, I can pretend I'm 18 again."

Recovery

The past couple of weeks have given me a new perspective on the whole recuperation process. As anyone who has ever had to recover from major surgery or a major injury knows, it's the recovery that is so difficult. I've been very lucky to have not experienced any of this before now, but now that my time has come, I'm finding the entire process to be as unpleasant as everyone has always said it would be.

For me, the tedium is oppressive. I have to lie strapped to the CPM machine for about 6 hours a day, although I actually only do about 4-5 because my hip really starts to hurt after a while. I've also found that it's helpful to just strap myself down for a half hour at a time from time to time so the knee keeps being mobile. The knee itself feels really weird. It's gradually getting stronger, but isn't ready to work unsupported yet. So I'll be hobbling along and then the knee kind of gives out. It's not painful, but it's a bit scary because I have a justifiable fear of tipping over.

The fact that Rob is pretty much incapacitated by his lens-less eye isn't helping much at all. We need to be driven everywhere right now. Actually, I haven't ventured out yet, but Rob can't drive because he's lost half of his field of vision and has no depth perception. Lindsay and Dena -- who have made up for all intents and purposes -- yeah!!!!! -- have been great about making sure the doggies go to the park each day and running us to the store and the pharmacy for food and pills.

The one thing that makes me feel better is cooking. I feel as though I can STILL do something that yields concrete results. The smells also make me feel safe during a time when our lives are so uncertain. Three nights after I got home, I made up some Spaghetti alla Bolognese. I had been reading recipes for years about how the tomatoes, cooked slowly with milk, form an amazing rich sauce. Most recipes call for expensive combinations of ground meats, including pork and veal. But we don't eat veal -- we have a real problem with torturing animals any more than necessary -- and the difference in taste is negligible. The cheap ground beef worked out really well, as long as you remember to drain it thoroughly.

This sauce really needs to sit and simmer for hours to get the full effect.

Spaghetti alla Bolognese

1-plus pound inexpensive ground beef
4 slices thick bacon, cut into half-inch pieces
1 medium onion chopped
4 carrots chopped
3 celery stalks chopped
4 (or more) pieces of garlic minced
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon oregano
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup milk
3/4 cup dry red wine (I used Merlot)
1 can Progresso crushed tomatoes with puree

Brown the beef and bacon in a Dutch oven. Drain meat leaving only a small amount of fat for the vegetables. Add chopped onion, carrots and celery and cook until vegetables are starting to wilt. Add garlic and cook until fragrant -- about 30 seconds. Add herbs and salt, along with milk, wine and tomato sauce. Simmer over low heat for at least two hours.

They cut my knee off ...

 

 

 

More to come when I'm feeling better, but, first, a description.
I made a fabulous Spaghetti alla Bollegnese, which filled the house with wonderful cooking smells and lifted my spirits. There's also a picture of The Machine that's at the center of my life right now. It's a CPM machine -- continuous passive movement machine, which basically moves my leg up and back to prevent the formation of scar tissue, which can completely undermine a knee replacement. I have to be strapped to it at least 8 hours a day. Finally, in my convalescence, Fuser has taken the role of his mommy's protector quite seriously.

A brief synopsis:

I made it through the knee replacement surgery just fine and spent five days in the hospital. It was a miserable experience overall, and now I'm home convalescing and they are sending what seems like an army, but is in fact, only two people, to the house for followup care -- one is a physical therapist who makes me do exercises that my poor, miserable body doesn't want to do and the other is a chatty home nurse who takes my vitals and will draw blood.

They have to monitor my Coumadin level. They give blood thinners to joint replacement patients to make sure they don't get blood clots, then they have to monitor how much you're taking to make sure you don't bleed out of your eyeballs (like Dennis Quaid's kids did).

Anyway life right now is lurching from pain to pain, so I'll write more when I'm more coherent.