Chowmama intro
Hi! I'm 68, she/her/whatever, married and uppity as hell. I spend a lot of time on the political stories but have so far only commented on food and pets.
I started cooking as early as possible, around 7 years old for main dishes. My mother was a wonderful woman and did everything she could for us, while working to supplement my father's income. (You should have seen her death glare whenever he described it publicly as 'pin money') However, it's really not a good idea to put an anorexic in charge of the cooking for a family of six. She had many fine qualities and the one I valued most was her willingness to allow me to use the kitchen as my personal laboratory whenever I felt like it. She was available for questions or help, but otherwise, she caught up on the rest of the house. We had some - interesting - meals. Of course, she cooked more often than I did, especially at the beginning.
Now I work in a real laboratory at a vet clinic. I also do other stuff. I'm a CVT, certified vet technician. Been at the same place 29 years and hope to go on till I'm 75.
Long string of animals. Currently, Radar is an elderly small dog of indeterminate breed. Seriously, God only knows what went into that mix. We got him a little over a year ago. He's recovered from some pretty severe neglect, only missing a lot of his teeth from dental disease, but will need to be on heart meds for the remainder of his life. Heart murmur is 5 on a scale of 6. More personality than any 3 dogs have a right to. And he howls like a malamute on an Arctic night.
We also have a house panther. Fast Eddie looks like a miniature black jaguar, except he's not that miniature, Stretched out on the bed, from front paw to tail tip he's 30 inches of polished obsidian and pure muscle. He was found in a parking lot (not by me) at a very young age and was about half feral for quite a while. He finally learned to ask for what he wanted and stopped biting from frustration. Now he gets in our laps and punches us in the abdomen until he gets bored, satisfied or sleepy. He's trying to 'make biscuits', but you check afterwards for bruises. Loud noises still scare him and he bullies the dog so the dog won't realize how afraid he is.
I don't just make food. I sew, knit, crochet, small carpentry, and repair stuff whenever I can. My salad spinner is currently powered by an (otherwise) unused shoelace. I just got a tortilla press and chose the one out of three that looked like I could fix it when it broke. I've never been poor, but have been frequently strapped and sometimes broke. This forces you to develop some serious skills. And I like to keep stuff out of the garbage stream. One neighbor finally asked me...well, he hinted around until I figured out that he was worried we were a garbage house, based on how seldom we set the bins out at the alley. No, we just don't use much prepackaged and disposable. At this point, half my job is not to buy stuff. What we get doesn't leave our house till it's exhausted.
Personal trivia:
My family were colored margarine smugglers, back when it was illegal in Wisconsin. I think the statute of limitations has expired.
I used to play with the Lakers, in spite of the fact I'm only 5 feet tall. Actually, I was shorter then, being about 3 years old. We lived in Golden Valley, Minnesota and a couple of them lived next door. Sunday, around late morning, some of the rest of them would show up to shoot hoops in the driveway. Half the neighborhood kids would turn up. They lifted us up to make baskets. (I never said I played for them. Just with them.)
It's been a while, but I used to do theater and singing. I'll probably go back to it when I retire - I'll have to do something. It might be nice to play a character my own age. When you're 5 feet tall, you do maids and little old ladies. I can skip most of the makeup now.
= new reply since forum marked as read
