I’m actually writing this entry mid flight to Houston. There’s nothing better for reminiscing than being stuck in a seat for three and a half hours. All is calm, all is bright, save a blonde hair-flipping college athlete sitting one row in front of me, with all of her “like” and “drama” and “totally” chatter to her seat mate. On a different day or trip I’d be irritated that she can’t keep her voice below bar level. Today? I’m flying high in all senses, so she’s off the hook. Then again, I’ve only been on the plane for about 30 minutes.

And now a baby just started screaming.

Ah, the holidays!

And these have been eventful and momentous and all of those grand words that people use to describe big deals. Back in July my parents purchased an airplane ticket for me; the purpose for my journey was to help them make some repairs to the house they lived in at the time. Well, they moved away from South Carolina and I found myself with a two week excuse to cram in some serious sister time, along with quality Herzog hangin’ out. And it was worth every moment, let me tell you.

Latice had a birthday, graduated with her MS from Clemson University, and I got to watch her open a Christmas present for the first time in three years. Heck, Jed and I got to watch his parents open gifts, too (I know! We really made this trip count). All of these things I used to take for granted when I lived, schooled, and worked in South Carolina. Having a retail job in Oregon for three years, during which the holidays were off limits for vacations, made me appreciate such milestones more. I call them the “Life Things”. Life is too short to miss out on the “Life Things”.

So we “Life”-d it up.

I learned a few “Things”, too. Or, more accurately, I remembered. For one, Jed and I are more than blessed with amazing friends. The few that we were able to visit with made us feel like we’d only been gone for a day or two. Also, we had it pretty good while living in Clemson. Jed and I worked in the same office, with the added bonus of fun and caring coworkers. We knew someone everywhere we went in downtown Clemson, and a friendly game of pool was only a block away. And the food! Super Taco, China Wok, Mellow Mushroom… Finally, it was great to live so close to family. Sure, being an airplane ride away has its advantages, but there is something to be said for a short jaunt up or over to the ‘rents. Or the ability to cook dinner with little sister.

But I had my time, so now it’s back to Portland and all of the “Life Things” Jed and I share there. To our friends, our little apartment, our favorite coffee house, our walks into downtown—To our lives that are separate and different from the lives of our families. They will intertwine little in the coming years. But when they can, I’ll be there.

“His momma done raised him up right,” as they say.

At Backstreets on Friday night, the bartender said “Thanks for comin’ in, Beautiful,” when he handed me my tab. “Beautiful”?! Know how long it’s been since a complete stranger has used a pet name when addressing me? Loooong time. In fact, I gave him a very perplexed look in response because I had no idea what to say back to him.

Thursday, while helping Latice load boxes off of a platform and into her vehicle, a guy rolled down the window of his van and shouted, “Ya’ll are doin’ too much there” and sent his sidekick to our rescue. The boy (I say “boy” because he was not older than 20) arrived just as Latice was taking the last box from me, so there was nothing left for him to do. Still, I thanked him for trying and his response was, “Of course! I only wish I’d gotten here sooner.”

Those are just a couple of examples that illustrate a good ‘ole Southern value: Give special consideration to the ladies. On one hand, it’s seen as sexist and presumptive of women’s inability to take care of themselves. On the other hand, it can be enjoyed as a privilege of being born female. I take the latter attitude, thus have been enjoying the hell out of being out and about in Clemson.

Pssst! Photos.

For the next few days I’m going to be a bit quiet here on Look, Something Shiny! Latice and Bryan are keeping me very busy with projects, delicious meals, and chuckles over “high gravity” beers. But don’t think that I’m not going to do my best to tell you all about it. From now until the 19th of this month, check the Photos page frequently to see the fun through my camera lens. Whenever I have a quiet moment (and I anticipate one or two this weekend) I’ll post some stories about the goings-on. In the meantime, enjoy the pictures!

Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease,

~Nyco

It’s no secret that my man can cook. He has this little recipe book that he keeps notes in; Jed’s that serious about his fixin’. So, I had to ask special permission to peek into his sacred tome and publish this delicious stew recipe, which we’ve been enjoying for the past two nights…

It’s a fantastic holiday dish, and serves a small dinner party of 4-6 people. Also, stew makes great leftovers because the ingredients “get to know each other” more the longer they sit together.

Stew (Meat + Potato Version)

Prepare this recipe in a dutch oven (we use cast iron). During preheating, put a shallow roasting pan on the bottom rack to catch inevitable drips. The total baking time is 2 hours, though the longer it goes the more tender the beef becomes.

Ingredients:

2 tbsp butter
2 medium onions, chopped
2 tsp fresh thyme leaves
S+P (that’s his shorthand for salt and pepper)
6 potatoes (2 thinly sliced to help thicken stew, 4 halved to add soft bite)
3 cups chicken stock
1/2 tsp Worcestershire
8 medium carrots (sliced diagonally, not too thinly)
1/4 cup pearly Barley (aka pearl barley)
1/4 cup heavy cream
3 lbs cubed stew beef

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 325°F
2. On stove top, melt butter in Dutch Oven.
3. Add onions. Soften but do not brown.
4. Stir in meat, thyme, S+P to taste. Once mixed, continue to next step.
5. Add in 2 potatoes (sliced thin), chicken stock and Worcestershire. Stir, then go on.
6. Add 4 halved potatoes (for soft bite), cover, and bake for 1 hour.
7. Stir in carrots, barley, and cream.
8. Bake until tender; about 1 more hour (can go longer).
9. Serve with hearty bread.

Enjoy! If you want to see other Herzog creations, just visit the Photos page.

Please comment with questions and I’ll ask Jed for the answers.

The best idea for a party favor:

Christina and Jed, at her rockin’ party. See more.

A birthday raffle. Ten custom, hand-made t-shirts.

There’s a little bit of Christina in on all of us.

Well, a lucky few of us.

Happy 31, Christina!

Pawly is back with my parents now, in her new metal urn. To celebrate the occasion, I wrote a few little poems in haiku form. I hope you like them:

in light, shadow fades
in death, shadow remains true
her love transcends all

sunshine holds shadow
in transparent slumber now
love part of earth’s light

a body to ash
a soul to eternity
here stands love’s symbol

symbolic of love
shadow, soul separated
now entombed, enthroned

she casts no shadow
for in life, that was her name
and in death remains

of life every hour
your shadow, dark companion
duty beyond death

I encourage everyone to add your own haiku’s to celebrate Pawly. If you didn’t know Pawly, then share with us your experience with a favorite pet. And if you would like to learn more about haiku, here is a great resource. Have fun with your poems!

Pawly meets St. Peter the Poodle at the Pearly Dogbone Gates of Canine Heaven:

St. Peter the Poodle: “Welcome to Canine Heaven, Pawly.”

Pawly: “Whoa! We talk up here? OH MY GAWD I JUST SPOKE!”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Yes, my dear. I like your collar.”

Pawly: “Oh, this? Yeah, if red’s your thing. I prefer to go au naturelle whenever possible.”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Yes, we know. Would you like to check it at the gate, then?”

Pawly: “Is there a charge for collar check? My mom always had the purse…”

St. Peter the Poodle: “No, no. No charge. So, would you like to come inside?”

Pawly: “Well, yes, but you haven’t said the magic words.”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Oh! Very sorry. *ahem* ‘Pawly, in the house?!’ …is that right?”

Pawly: “Yes, thank you. Will there be a bone waiting for me inside?”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Oh, there’s much more than that. We have a grassy field, and there’s a guy named Doug who has volunteered to come play ball with you once a day. Better be careful while you run, though: This orange tabby who calls himself ‘Squeaker’ told me that he plans to jump on you when you least expect it.”

Pawly: “I see… Well, he should remember that I’m not afraid to give ‘im a little toss–”

St. Peter the Poodle: “–but, when you’re done playing ball we have a nice little place for you to rest, complete with air vent, blanket, bones to chew on, and a wool rug for you to roll around on if your back gets itchy.”

Pawly: “Is there anything for me to do if I don’t feel like playing ball?”

St. Peter the Poodle: “My, I almost forgot! There is a pond for you to swim in, and if you’re feeling adventurous you can climb the Shrubby Hill of Empty Diet Mountain Dew Bottles or squeeze into the Cave of Tantalizing Cheese Smells.”

Pawly: “You don’t happen to have any garbage cans, do you?”

St. Peter the Poodle: “No… Why?”

Pawly: “It’s not important–Go on…”

St. Peter the Poodle: “…Yes, yes. So, there are other dogs you might like to meet while you are here. A shepherd mix named Nelcie is very anxious to challenge you to a doggy-paddle contest–”

Pawly: “–ah, I think I’ve heard of her before. Energetic gal, right? Do you think she’d be up for some tug-o-war?”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Well, you never know unless you ask, right?”

Pawly: “Guess so… Hey, one request…”

St. Peter: “Anything you like, Pawly.”

Pawly: “Well, there’s this blue persian named Sam I used to like hanging out with… Is he around?”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Oh, yes. Let’s go find him now…”

Pawly: “Wait. Wait. Not so fast. I’m not going in there unless we’re sure that my family gives their permission. I mean, sure I went a lot of places I wasn’t supposed to back when I was on Earth. But I figured this time it’s a little more serious. I mean, I didn’t hear anyone whistle or anything, but I just want to be sure…”

St. Peter the Poodle: “I understand. Tell you what: If you hear any of them whistle, you can go back anytime you like.”

Pawly: “Really?!”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Absolutely. There is a catch, however.”

Pawly: “I’m listening…”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Good girl. So, when you go back, you can’t show yourself. You can only keep them company by being with them in spirit. And you can’t stay too long, or else Squeaker will eat your dinner. Dinner in Heaven is at 4pm, and you won’t want to miss it.”

Pawly: “That sounds reasonable.”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Okay?”

Pawly: “Yeah, okay.”

St. Peter the Poodle: “Okay, then. Now, let’s go get the kitty…”

Pawly is in Heaven. She passed away in her sleep while receiving treatment for pancreatitis; of an aneurysm resulting from a failing heart. The two conditions were unrelated, and her death was a pretty big shock to all of us.

Or was it? I believe strongly that a pet will choose their time to die. Pawly was not in the best of health this past year, but her sense of duty to my family kept her moving despite her failing hind legs, breathing despite the endless panting. But even though she seemed to be feeling poorly, Pawly wasn’t ready to leave my family yet.

She had to see them pass into a new chapter of their lives. She wanted to know that they could be happy without her. But first, she had to see the countryside her family called home before she came along. And Pawly loved it! She got to run through fields of sage brush, smell the fresh air of two mountain ranges, see her first cows and horses and llamas… Through those experiences, Pawly became revitalized. And she learned how to have fun again because she could sense our happiness.

So in the days running up to her death, Pawly took car rides willingly and climbed and sniffed up and down rocky hillsides. She even went without her pain medicine for two weeks; before the move across the country she needed two doses a day to fight the inflammation in her hips. She lost 15 lbs, quit panting almost entirely, and her raw, cracked nose completely healed to its youthful softness.

But Pawly’s time with my family was drawing to a close. Suddenly she became violently ill and had to be taken to the doctor. Amazingly, she was calm through the examination and even seemed to like the young man who was treating her. Pawly used to lose her mind when taken to the veterinarian in South Carolina. Maybe all that traveling had made her a more worldly and emotionally resilient dog. Or maybe she was relieved that Mom wouldn’t have to see her suffer–see her die.

In the wee hours of the morning of November 1st, Pawly said goodbye to my family and this world. She spent 12 years being Mom’s Shadow, Dad’s garage guardian, Latice’s ‘Poo, and my living toy. We will talk about her for the rest of our lives, because she was more than a dog for us. She was, and will forever be, our furry heart.

What was Pawly to you? Write a comment to share your favorite Pawly story.

So I promised more pet lovin’ and damnit I’m going to deliver, even if I’m doing so three weeks later…

First I’ll talk about Buddy. Ah, Buddy. He had a rough puppyhood, I think. Found riddled with ticks, dying from heart worms, abandoned just outside of Clemson, SC by some heartless and irresponsible owner, Buddy was rescued by my sister just over three years ago. She nursed him back to health with the help of my parents, and thanks to a lot of love and dollar bills he’s now quite the doggy specimen. Part chow-chow, part black laborador retriever, Buddy is a car-chasing, barking, tail-wagging machine. Gentle and considerate (he only poops in bushes), he makes up with charm what he lacks in brains. Buddy deserves his name, for sure. I dare you to tell me that you don’t want to shout “GOOOOOOD BOYYYYY!” when you look at this picture:

Last but not least (in my book, anyway) is Jeremy the gigantic cat. I got him about 5 years ago when I was living on my own, and my sister took him to my parent’s house because he’d clearly outgrown my apartment by his first birthday. You’ve heard people say “Wow, that’s a big cat!” about other cats, but I’m telling you, Jeremy is bigger than the biggest cat you know. And not only is Jeremy huge, but he’s also incredibly impatient with everyone except for me, his Mom. Nowadays he’s all fangs and claws and pissed-offedness. But! He’s pretty. And he likes to play. Also, give him flat of wheat grass and a catnip toy and he’ll occupy himself for hours. Here, a stick will suffice:

Want to see more photos of the family fauna? Check out the Oregon Trail ’08 album.

My family has two dogs and two cats. Over the years we’ve had several pets (Bernice, Sam, Katie, DooDoo, Squeaker the cats; Nelcie, Lucy, Phyllis, Estelle the dogs), but this bunch is sort of the last generation of “family” pets. “Family” meaning “animals that our daughters at one time were responsible for and somehow Mom and Dad are now their caretakers”. Pawly and Buddy the BadDogs came by way of my sister, Jeremy the EvilCat used to be mine, and Baby Kitty the BabyKitty got put in a tree near the family home and, well, he eats boxes so we decided to keep him around. Neither my sister nor I can claim responsibility for that one, so the sentence before last was actually kind of a lie.

Anyway, this entire post is an excuse to show pictures and brag a little about these little furry siblings…

Pawly is asleep, and as usual I’m bothering her. She actually extended her paw to push me away but didn’t protest when I decided to give it a little squeeze. This AKC registered black labrador retriever’s official name is Elizabeth’s Shadow Pawly, and she is 12 years old. Nowadays she spends most of her time sleeping as all old labs like to do. Say the word “cheese” though, and she’s suddenly a puppy again. In her younger years, Pawly would play fetch for hours if she could, and if a tennis ball was unavailable she’d bring you a pine cone. Last year I taught her to “SPEAK!” and then went back home to Oregon, and now every time you offer her a bone she barks whether you ask her to or not. An amazingly intelligent and loving animal, Pawly is the dog we’ll talk about for the rest of our lives.

Baby Kitty saw me approaching to take this picture, and this is how he greeted me. If only I could include the cooing, meowing, and purring. This cat is about five years old… typing that out felt very weird! He likes to be scratched really, really hard all over his body and loves to have his tail pulled. If left alone, Baby Kitty will sink his teeth into all of the paper products he can find and yank all of the thumbtacks out of your cork board. He announces everything, from his entrance into a room to his selection of a spot to sit, with a distinctive breathy meow. Though Baby Kitty sounds like a total pain in the ass, his soft fur and new-kitten smell make all of those little fang holes in the mail worthwhile.

We’ll talk about Buddy and Jeremy next time…

By the way, there’s a new album in the works on the Photos page.