Running on Empty

I seem to be totally missing the spirit of the season.  Usually Hanukkah and Christmas overlap somewhat, but this year there’s a big space in between. 

I didn’t even do much in the way of Hanukkah celebration.  We lit the candles.  I made latkes on the first night.  And that was about it.  We long since abandoned the gift every day practice.

It’s not that I am in the least bothered by Christmas.  I find myself either singing along with the constant stream of carols or at some point reaching my saturation point and turning the radio off in the car.  I mainly avoid the malls and crowded stores that might arouse my ire.

I bought exactly 5 Christmas presents, all in the under $10 range.  They were things I liked for people I love.

I made exactly 2 cards and 2 gift tags.  So the card supplies barely came out of hiding.

I’m afraid my lack of enthusiasm may well represent an overall sag in emotions.  I need to figure out why this is happening.  Could it be my wanderlust which has been kept at home too long?  Could it be that I need something new and exciting to do in my life? 

I’m hoping the new year will answer these questions and give me a renewed sense of purpose and the energy to accomplish all that I set out to do.

For now I must be grateful for good health and friends and family that continue to come around in person and electronically, not paying much attention to the fact that sometimes I’m just not a lot of fun.

Happy holidays to those of you who have the spirit and equally to those of you who don’t!

Times Past and Present

As we drove back from Charlottesville today, where we had picked up my husband’s  new custom-made molded shoes, I realized we were in the heart of Civil War country.  Signs for Grant’s headquarters and the place where Jackson was wounded bespoke what a crossroads the area along the “Constitution Highway” was. 

The only reminder of the Civil War in the small town of Wilderness was the word “Battlefield” as a prefix to many business names. 

As I looked out at all those snow-covered fields, I couldn’t help but imagine them running red with the blood of both Blues and Grays.  What a sorry sad time that was in the history of this country.



Today the modest homes and the preponderance of mobile homes reflect an area that probably thinks a lot more about where the next meal is coming from than the fact that battles for freedom took place here a century and a half ago.

My husband’s iPod played “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose” as we left the Civil War battlefields to fight our way up I-95 on our way home.

Jake as Vegetarian?

My husband, who knows how much I have been struggling with meat issues lately, sent me this article, which was a wake-up call of another kind.

I never dreamed that the dogs, who have become like family members for many of us, were having such a detrimental effect on the environment.  The carbon footprint of meat is the main problem.  This article claims that a medium size dog eats 360 pounds of meat and 200 pounds of cereal each year.  It takes 2 acres to raise that much food (not sure how they came to this conclusion.)

I’m already feeling somewhat better because in Jake’s case I know that I use only 2 pounds of meat in a week’s food.  But I do use significantly more rice (cereal).

In addition to the carbon footprint problem, dog feces are a significant source of pollution in rivers and streams.  Jake only poops in our back yard and there is no stream below us, so he’s off the hook on that count.

The article correctly emphasizes the positive emotional effect of owning a dog, a natural anti-depressant.  Most pet owners simply couldn’t envision a life without animals.  And for many of us, the advise to get a hen (which lays eggs) or a rabbit is not an acceptable solution.  I love the statement from an expert, “Rabbits are good, provided you eat them.”  I can’t imagine ever eating a family pet of any sort!

There are things we can do to at least mitigate this problem.  The first is to cut down on the meat intake of our dogs.  I can imagine that if people can get protein from other sources, so can animals.  We could possibly become a vegetarian household.

Those who walk their dogs in the woods can take care to scoop the poop instead of letting it become a pollutant.

At some point, humans may be forced to make difficult decisions about things like owning a pet as our environmental issues become more obvious.  I never realized how far-reaching this current passion of mine would turn out to be!

O Come All Ye Meatless

Before converting to Judaism and leaving behind my Presbyterian roots, I lay awake at night worrying about giving up my Christmas tree.  I was not destined to maintain my tradition through a Hanukkah bush. 

It turned out not to be be a big deal at all.  I’ve never once missed searching for the perfect tree, decorating it, or sweeping up dropped needles.  I mildly sympathized with my daughter’s desire to be like all the Christian families in our neighborhood, but a Christmas tree just didn’t fit in our house.

As I plunge further into “Eating Animals” by Jonathan Safran Foer, I wonder if it would be equally easy to leave meat behind.  Would I carefully plan my last meaty meal?  Would I fondly remember the smell?  The taste?

99 out of 100 Americans will never read about the atrocities of the factory farm.  Ignorance is what allows them to continue to buy Tysons pork and Purdue chicken and farmed salmon without the slightest tinge of guilt.  I’m on page 199 of the book and my stomach is definitely squeamish over what I have been reading.

This week we will pay a visit to Polyface Farm when we make a trip to Charlottesville to pick up my husband’s new custom-made shoes.  I still consider Joel Salatin’s  farming practices to be a far cry from factory farming.  But there is no way I can say his animals never suffer.  For one thing, he is forced to send his cows and pigs to a slaughterhouse, where he doesn’t have complete control. 

We’ll probably buy some chickens, perhaps even a turkey, as I continue to ponder what it might be like to go cold-turkey (or NO-turkey) on meat.

I can already picture my husband laying awake at night worrying about meat-deprivation.  He hasn’t yet read this book.

I think back to all the teasing one of my vegan employees got from my old office, particularly every time there was a pot-luck lunch.  It would be things like, “What sort of tofu delight did you bring this time, John?”  I am suddenly far more sympathetic and in awe of this guy who was willing to go against the mainstream of America.

I never want to be one of those people who claims to be a vegetarian and then goes and eats a burger in the closet.  If I actually embrace vegetarianism, it will be a complete change.  Much like the Christmas tree.

I wonder if I would really miss eating meat?

Liquid Gold

As I sit  here reading “Eating Animals”, the house smells deliciously of roasted goose.  I haven’t quite lost my appetite for meat yet, but the book is working on my carnivore tendencies.

By the time the goose comes out of the oven, it will be just a shadow of its former self, having shed all that fat that geese are so famous for.

Goose schmaltz is a prized possession and I now have about 4 cups of it (from just one goose) to use (in small quantities) to flavor mashed potatoes and other foods.  Much of the fat comes out in the first stage of cooking, where the goose, having been sufficiently pricked, is steamed on the top of the stove in a pan with a tight-fitting lid.  But I never imagined there would be so much fat!

My husband (who now loves to chop after taking “Knife Skills”) and I prepped this morning for the rest of the meal, so the afternoon has been rather leisurely.  We will soon be throwing together braised kale, boiled root vegetables, and oyster dressing.  A pumpkin pie sits ready and waiting on the counter.  My crust confidence is building.

We’ll share dinner with our son and good neighborhood friends.  Meanwhile, there’s still lots of snow everywhere I look outside.  The official snow measurer and his trusty companion ventured out onto the deck this morning.

Who said it never snows in DC?

The labs of the DC metro area are in ecstasy today as the snow falls.  Jake couldn’t be happier to go out and play.  



He even managed to find his Kong buried under a foot of snow.  Instead of peanut butter, it’s filled with melting snow.





My husband mentioned what a disaster it would have been if Zelda had died just one week later.  Perhaps neither of us would have made it to the funeral.

It’s so nice to sit inside with the fireplace on and watch the snow continue to come down and pile up.  I hope the electricity holds out.

I’m feeling better.  Maybe it was the excellent pea soup my kind-hearted neighbor brought over yesterday before it started snowing. She also brought me "The Art of Racing in the Rain," right in line with today's dog theme.

I’m making lots of dog food today, while I read my wonderful new gift book “Eating Animals” by the talented Jonathan Safran Foer.  I’m not sure I’m even going to want to be giving Jake meat in his diet after this book.

Tomorrow I’ll cook a goose and hope it didn’t suffer as it was killed.  Oysters will go in the dressing I’m making.  I wonder if it hurts when their shells are popped open.

All food for thought as the snow continues to fall and still has that pristine, undisturbed look to it.

Airplane's Revenge

I seem to be like a magnet for germs when I fly.  Sure to form, breathing that recirculated germy air on our quick trip to Detroit left me with something undesirable.

Yesterday I woke up with one of those killer headaches, the kind that make your eyeballs hurt, the kind that Aleve doesn’t phase.  I managed to drag myself in to my old office’s holiday party, and then managed to socialize with an old work friend afterwards for a few hours.  But despite the fact that I didn’t even have one sip of alcohol, I was in bed with no supper, a pounding head, and chills by 8 PM.

Today I woke up with just the remnants of the headache and the sort of fatigue that is characteristic of mononucleosis.  It was not a choice to cancel my plans for the day.  It was a necessity.

So today I will sit around in my PJ’s, sipping hot tea and thinking about cooking the goose I bought yesterday sometime over the weekend.  I’m not sure I can recreate the Dickensian atmosphere from last weekend’s cooking class, but I can surely try.

It’s these brief bouts of illness that make me feel grateful for my usual good health.