Everything Sirious
This strawberry cake is really amazing. It’s not fancy, it’s fairly easy, it’s got a nice presentation, and it just tastes yummy – plain or topped with whipped cream or ice cream. A definite keeper! https://www.onceuponachef.com/recipes/summer-strawberry-cake.html
For 25+ years, our job has been to help the cat who needed a new situation find a new home. During those 25 years, we encountered every single reason imaginable for needing to find a new home. Some were unavoidable – the owner died with no family to take the cat. The new baby in the family had repeated allergic reactions that resulted in hospitalizations. The family lost their home and went to a homeless shelter that didn’t allow pets.
Others, not so understandable. One man told me his cat ‘purred too much’. Another lady said that the cat didn’t match the new sofa. And of course there was always the ‘we got a kitten and the older cat is unhappy.’
While at first our emotions bubbled over as we listened to the reasons, we quickly came to several big conclusions:
If the person wasn’t happy, and in particular wasn’t happy with the cat, then the cat wasn’t happy.
Cats are amazingly resilient. We’d like to think that no one is as great at being an owner as we are. But give them another excellent situation with enough love and adoration, and they can be happy again.
People tend to focus on themselves – what do “I” want that makes me happy. That is not always the same as what makes the cat happy. A person may have 12 cats and that fills their heart with joy. But for the one of those cats that is always hiding and tormented by the other cats, their heart may be filled with fear.
Social media allows just a snapshot of the real world. You see a beautiful garden, but not the rusty fence next door. You see a gorgeous beach, but not the pile of garbage washed up on the sand. We crop pictures, adjust backgrounds, frame our subject so that people ‘like’ our photo. You never see the whole story unless you are right there. And with rehoming of animals, there is always more to the story than what we see presented.
Each of us has X amount of energy to use each day. We can use it in any way we see fit – being helpful, being kind, being supportive, or we can use it being critical, throwing stones, casting blame. In the case of animals needing new homes, our focus should be on the animal itself. What can we do to help? Can we share the post? Do we know someone who might help? Can we donate to their cause? Or can we just offer some words of kindness to a stranger who is likely going through a lot tougher time than is presented?
The world needs more kindness and compassion. Not hatred and criticism. If you can’t say something nice and supportive, or help in some way, then scroll on by. Let’s strive to have our actions and words have positive reactions. There’s enough unhappiness as it is without any one of us contributing more.
They didn’t come by their nicknames “The Foghorns” without good reason. Ivan and Skipper had moved to the ports of Seattle, accepting positions as first mates on Omar’s fishing boat, the Fat Cat. From the time they got their ‘seal-legs’ at point of adoption, they’d start every day before the sun, headed out to sea with a shopping list that changed with the tides. Ivan would stand starboard and Skipper port, their whiskers glistening with salt spray as their noses twitched in anticipation. Ivan was the serious one, methodical in his approach, navigating by sound, smell and pure gut feeling. Skipper navigated by pure gut alone, sneaking snippets of bait when he thought Omar wasn’t looking.
By mid morning, when the majority of the world was looking at their watches to see if it was lunch time yet, the Fat Cat would be trolling into port, nets overflowing with the day’s catch. If they were lucky, vacationers out for their mid-morning stroll could hear the Foghorns relay the success of the morning. Wheelbarrows of salmon would make their way from the port to the fish market at Pike’s, where they’d be prepped for the crowds that flooded the Market to see what was fresh.
I was tickled at the thought of spending a full day with the boys, and my taste buds tingled at the thought of fresh salmon right from the ocean. It had been years since I’d visited with them, and I was looking forward to seeing them as full fledged shipmates aboard the Fat Cat.
Predawn came early – barely the faintest hint of light tickling the docks as I made my way to the boat. One would have expected everyone to be fast asleep, but the pier was bustling with activity as everyone readied their boats for the day. My ears perked up as whispers of the best locations were shared between crew members in a hush discernible only to the best trained ears. I made my way down to the end of the pier as instructed, scanning the decks for a recognizable face. It wasn’t long before a familiar sounding foghorn attached to quite a stout body greeted me. “Ahoy, matey! And welcome aboard!” Skipper came padding forward, all 18 pounds of him, his toothless grin stretching from ear to ear. “Hop skip, not a moment to be lost.” I clambered on board, nodding ever so slightly to Ivan who was busy surveying the equipment. “Right,” said Skipper. “Over here’s the bait. I’m in charge of the bait. Got to make sure it’s fresh. Anchovies and herring, that’s my favorite. Works great. Tastes great. Everyone’s happy.” And his head disappeared inside the bucket. “Yup, this’ll do, we’re all set” said he, smacking his lips, a suspicious looking silvery tail disappearing quickly. “I think we’re ready.”
Without another word, we were off. Ivan obviously had a plan, and he wasn’t to be swayed. He kept keen eyes on the horizon, sounding his foghorn as schools were spotted, barking orders to Skipper whose mouth remained suspiciously full. Having been a number of years since I’d sailed on a boat, I found it took the majority of my concentration to stay balanced, and it wasn’t long before I wondered whether I’d become the first ‘emerald point’ Siamese. Luckily, the weather cooperated, the ocean remained somewhat calm, and I didn’t toss my cat chow.
The morning was a success. The boys had it down to a science, and while it wasn’t any mystery how Skipper had become so portly, it did seem strange that there was enough bait left over to catch the amount of salmon we did. It was barely mid-morning when we swung back toward land, heading at quite a clip towards the market. “Got to be ready for the lunch crowd,” Ivan explained, “that’s where the action is.” I nodded in agreement, hoping whatever action there was at lunch was followed by a good, long siesta.
Yours Truly,
Howard Beakman (For more sealfaring stories, follow my blog)
Lemon Queen Cakes with Meringue Frosting, Vintage Cakes, pg 50. First of all, this is an amazing dessert if you like lemon curd, lemon cake, and marshmallowy meringue. And it’s a marvel of baking that the water bath allows for a curd to form on the bottom and the cake to appear at the top and it’s all from the same batter. It would be an amazing dinner party dessert and tasted even better on day 2 and day 3. But there are some things to note: I used 6 oz ramekins, filled 4oz up and needed 8 of them. Speaking of 8, note that you need a total of 8 eggs for this – so take them out early to get them to room temp (not mentioned in book, both sets of whites will need to be whipped). When you are ready to distribute the batter into the cups you are using, it’s best to have the batter in a bowl with a spout or a large measuring cup as it’s a little messy otherwise. Note to self to make sure the roasting pan fits in the oven without removal of a shelf; removing the shelf while the oven is hot is always trickier and you lose your oven heat. My bake time was 38 minutes till I saw golden and cracks on top (it is possible my oven temp was closer to 335 than 350). Once you remove the pan from the oven, it’s a little tricky to get the cups out of the hot water without burning yourself or dropping a cup; I needed to use tongs and even then I was worried. For the topping, my whip time was 4-5 minutes (high speed, not medium high speed). Distribute all the topping so you make sure you have enough before shaping it, I found it easiest to distribute with a spatula vs a spoon. The topping was the one thing I might change. It is super sweet and while yummy, I felt it detracted from the amazement of the curd plus the cake. I think next time I would choose a lighter, less heavy and less sweet meringue topping. Still an amazing dessert. YUM!!!! Vintage Cakes’ Lemon Queen Cakes with Meringue Frosting-Famous Fridays — Unwritten Recipes
Mother’s Day is coming up, you know. This is the day you give something to the mother you love. It’s the time to tell them how much they mean, how much you appreciate them. The gang has been thinking about this for some time – wanting to give Maw a gift for all she does. So we hatched a plan.
We realized we’re a few days early, but some things just can’t wait. You have to juggle your timing so the gift doesn’t get spoiled or anything. The Great Blue Hunter remembered we had something saved for just the occasion. Much as we all hated to relinquish it, it was pulled out from behind the bookcase where it had been carefully stored (https://siriouslysiri.com/2022/03/04/life-in-the-geezer-ward-episode-5/). Britney Beluga and Jazz carefully wrapped it carefully on Maw’s side of the bed. It would be a great surprise.
Too bad Maw has such a good nose. She knew something was up when she got into bed. It’s tough to hide that tantalizing smell, even though Jazz and Beluga had done such a good job of enfolding the present under several layers of pillow…..
Now, according to “Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior,” the first obligation, no matter how egregious a gift, is to respond with appropriate enthusiasm. That means “cries of surprise and joy,” and the placing of “hands over your face in the classic posture of one who is overwhelmed.”
Maw was REALLY good at this. Obviously she’s read these rules. I mean, there was no question about her being overwhelmed. I’d say we succeeded on every count.
This morning I iced the cake. She was complaining it still smelt like rotted mouse in the bedroom (personally, I thought it was quite pleasant). But just to make her feel better, I did what I do best on her pillow. Now it smells like home.
Can’t figure out, though, why she’s asked Paw for an Australian cookbook…..
In the know,
Alfonso P. Wallabee, guest reporter
I was feeling a bit down this evening, with all that’s going on in the world – and asked Maw & Paw for a story. They told me not to fret; they’d tell me about a special place – a place held close to their hearts, a place they never saw coming but one that grew into something beautiful. A place full of characters so rich with personalities, so interwoven with excitement, and drama and mystery. A place that is magical…..
A place where David is King. A king whose throne is a mound of cat food bags piled high as the eye could see, his responsibility to sample each bag as he sees fit to ensure quality control for all his subjects. His Queen, Claire, joining him in her choice of throne, surveying her entire kingdom with one sweep – and one swipe – of her paw. Mi Sama, the Queen Mother, always one to exercise her heights, spending several hours (or so she would bemoan) calling for her elevator to get her down from the top shelf in the bathroom. Mingo, the Court Jester, spending his day sniffing catnip as he tries to ooze all 14 pounds of his dog-frame into a teeny basket filled with Kay’s pillows. Then there is Shiena, the Warrior Princess, who beluga’s around to make sure there are no strangers on the horizon, while the Soldier in Arms, Titan, readies himself in case a Meezer of his stature is needed. Princess Sassette can be found sleeping soundly on her mattress while feeling for the pea, while Princess of TN spends her time stuck inside the waste bin bellowing up a storm.
On the other side of the castle, the Duke of Kenmore is packing his bags getting ready for his big day tomorrow to see his Lady in Waiting Maya, while Sulu, the Marchioness, continues nurturing her incision. Emma the Magician perfects her disappearing act, finally appearing in Teepee Bed Number 3; while Lady Chelsea (who descends from Islamic heritage) keeps her face, head and body completely covered by her cagepad. The Marquis Conundrum slinks through the ranks, attempting to take over the Queen’s throne when she isn’t looking, but is called out by Gobi, the Court Trumpeter. Baron Obie, new to the Royal Family, holds court with Lady Cheyenne in the upstairs lounge, while Baroness Buffy does her hair (regurgitating it as she goes). Viscountess Venus veers here and there and everywhere under everyone’s paws, and Prince Mel the Tennessee Mountain Man? He rests peacefully in his brand new bed…..
I need my Dad ….
It was a year and a half ago when I left home to stay at ‘camp’, or so they called it. And camp out I did, in a cage, for seven months. Seven long months trusting it would be alright – and because I trusted, I waited, and I expected. I expected that the commitment that had been made to me would be honored. Yes, I had food and water, and yes, I had a roof over my head. It would be alright, they kept telling me. Someone would come back for me someday.
Well they didn’t. And just as well because obviously someone hadn’t explained to them about decency and responsibility. And so I lost that home, and spent seven months of caged life, and then came to the Rescue.
I can’t find my Dad …..
Here they know decency. And responsibility. Kindness and warm hearts and snuggles abound. And a commitment is made to each and every cat that enters the program – to do the very best by that cat that they can do. But these Rescue folks are up against tremendous odds. Because not only do they have to work to provide for the present and the future, but they work to overcome the past. These folks work to repair the damage done by countless other folks who don’t give a second thought to leaving us by a dumpster, closing us in the basement, kicking us down the stairs, or abandoning us in a kennel for seven months. The psychological damage can be overwhelming. The physical damage debilitating. The emotional scars long term.
Oh Dad, where are you…….
Some of us bounce back. Some of us, given the time and the patience, can conquer the demons – we can learn to trust again, to believe that we will have food and water, that we will be protected, that we are worthy of love. And with proper attention and care, some of us can also overcome the long term damage to our physical beings. And some of us can’t. Some of us will still bite, or swat, or pee inappropriately (mea culpa). Some of us will refuse to eat and some of us will eat until there’s no end in sight. And some of us, no matter what kind of intervention is taken, will lose the battle.
Dad?
The nice Rescue lady tells me there’s a new family for me, we just have to find them. While I look forward to that, I still wonder about Dad. I sure hope he’s okay, because I’ll miss him.
While fiction, this is an exceptional book based on the life of Rosalind Franklin and her scientific research into DNA. It had intrigue, challenges, a tiny bit of romance, but mostly a fantastic tale of a woman’s perseverance in a man’s world and all the challenges she faced and how she met them. Really good, highly recommend this.
Well I looked. I looked and I couldn’t find him and I didn’t understand. Actually I don’t understand much of it at all. People may say that’s because I’m not as worldly, or experienced, or debonair as others. I don’t think that has much to do with it. It seems to be a pretty simple concept to me. A commitment made to care for someone who is dependent on you for that care should include a few basic things. Food and water for one thing. How can anyone who is purposefully closed up in a contraption built by another species with no way to escape be expected to find sustenance? I have to wonder what Chocolate thought at the close of the door and ne’er a goodbye glance as he was left alone in the apartment. And shelter. Shelter is defined as something that provides protection. Protection is not just from the elements. It is also from the BB gun that shot Kanoa and the hot oil that was dripped on Braveheart and the paint brush that turned Sherwin’s face white. And while a commitment may not ensure affection, it should. Or if not affection, consideration. Consideration that we too are sensitive, and that there are times where we may mourn, and we may be angry at the world, and we may be terrified. And there may be times where we too just don’t understand, and need reassurance.
Is that too much to ask?
Definitely a five star read here – set in Romania in 1989, this is a historical fiction about a teenage boy and his family and how living under Ceausescu’s dictatorship makes him question everything and everyone. Well written and great character development; it’s always an eye opener to read what’s happening elsewhere in the world as many of us in the US focus on minutiae. I have also read Between Shades of Gray and Salt of the Sea by Sepetys and rated both as five stars as well, so give her a try if you haven’t already and if you like historical fiction!
