Have You Heard About the Wii Bear?

Yesterday I read the "Three Bears" by Galdone to my third graders. This was a new story for about three quarters of my class. One youngster had heard the story before and proclaimed it "Awesome".

The edition I read calls the cub a "wee" bear. After several repitions of the word wee, one student asked "Where is the Wii Game? When do we get to play it? I laughed to myself as I realized I was in the presence of "digital natiives". They even explained that Wii was spelled w - i - i.

I ran through the story mentally applying modern meanings to this traditional story. It certainly painted a different picture in my mind. As I explained the contextual meaning my students nodded their understanding, but looked around hoping to see a Wii Bear.

Heads or Tails: Sammi's Stuck

 

How does a Great Dane cross get stuck in a kitchen cupboard?  Maybe a better question is, why would a Great Dane get stuck in a kitchen cupboard?

Sammi is our Great Dane cross and she thinks she is a mouser.  Last week she had chased a mouse into one set of kitchen cupboards.  I had already removed most breakable things from this cupboard when she had made an earlier foray into them after a mouse.  Sammi is like a guided missile locking onto her target.  She tolerates nothing in her way.  

You see Sammi simply clears the shelves with her front paws when things are between her and the mouse.  The room ends up in shambles with all manner of things littering the floor.

I went to check on her when I heard Sammi whimpering in frustration.  I found her with her head in the cupboard.  Flour was all over the floor.  The second time I checked on her. Her front end was inside the cupboard.  I removed a few more things that I didn’t want on the floor.  And swept up all the flour.

The next time I looked over at her she had crawled all the way into the cupboard and was trying to get out the other side of the cupboard.  She was stuck and flour was everywhere.  It looked like someone had been in a flour fight.

I helped Sammi get out of the cupboard and started to clean up the flour.  Retrieving the remains of the flour sack, I noticed a mouse had carefully chewed a large hole in the bottom of the bag. Flour was still flowing everywhere. 

That is the tale of Sammi the dog, or should I say the head of the dog.

Deal Me In

 I have always like C. M. Coolidge's prints of dogs playing poker.  I've always wondered what inspired him to paint this whimsical scene.

Last week Dan, Tom, and I were playing cards at the kitchen table. We had been laughing quite a bit when Baby Fritzy came over. She is extremely curious and very social. She stood up and balanced against the table, trying to figure out what was going on.

Dan had just dealt the cards. Tom looked at Baby Fritzy and commented, "Do you want to play cards?"

Baby Fritzy looked at Dan and myself, then started to pull the cards towards her with her paw. We all broke into laughter. She looked perplexed and got down.

I wonder what type of card game she would like to learn how to play?  Maybe there is a poker game in her future.

What Does Decadent Chicken Have to Do With Writing?

Over the holiday break I gave my intermediate students an assignment to interview a family member or friend about a favorite recipe.  I wanted them to have a great conversation and to write what they learned about the recipe, it’s history, and the cook.  I wanted them to see that there are many forms of writing.  I wanted them to make connections with part of their heritage. 

I reminded them that we all eat.  We can learn many things from talking to our family about favorite foods.  I also figured that maybe they would go on to collect other recipes and this one would get them started.

When they came back from break about half had the assignment done.  Recipes ranged from sugar cookies to hot dogs, Campbell’s tomato soup with extra tomatoes and milk.  Many shared their version of macaroni and cheese.  One of my students asked me, “Did you bring in a recipe?”

I told him I hadn’t but I would bring one in.  I thought he had showed me a link that I had missed in making the assignment.  I had one class that didn’t get the assignment before Christmas.  So I adjusted the lesson and started with my recipe.  I told them a little about Donna Rose, the lady who originally given me the recipe.   I read them the recipe. 

We talked about the title – Decadent Chicken Wrap.  We discussed what decadent meant.  I asked – “What do you want to know about this recipe or who gave it to me?”  We talked about the importance of checking to make sure they had written everything down correctly.  Why was proof reading important?

Several of the students asked me if they could have a copy.  My answer was sure.  I printed the recipe and made it available for anyone who wanted to copy it down.  Next week I will read them the story “Miss Opal’s Auction” by Susan Vizurraga.  It is the story of an elderly lady who is moving and has an auction.  Her young neighbor is watching the things being sold and remembering all the good times they shared.  Miss Opal buys back one of her cookbooks and gives it to the girl. 

As I think back over my life - It was more than just great food. It was the conversations and the relationships that were built when we made it, talked about it.  It was really about family and friends who broke bread together.

Donna Rose gave me this recipe in January 2003.  She was one of my Library Volunteers and a fantastic cook.

Decadent Chicken Wrap

Ingredients:

4-6 chicken breasts – pounded flat

1 slice bacon for each chicken breast

1 slice ham for each chicken breast

1 slice Swiss cheese for each chicken breast

Sauce Ingredients

1-1/2 cups sour cream

1 can cream chicken soup

½ package dry onion soup mix

Step 1:  Pound chicken breasts flat.  Lay bacon under chicken, place ham and Swiss cheese on top.

Step 2:  Roll up and secure with a toothpick. Put in 9 X 13 cooking dish.

Step 3:  Mix sour cream and soup.  Pour over and cover up chicken roll ups.

Step 4:  Cook about an hour at 325.

 This was cross posted with Gather; Windows 2 My Life, and Li-Bear-Y Corner

Tokens of Affection

I was feeling like I was waiting on my husband hand and foot.  I was feeling frustrated and resentful.  I kept trying to get him to help more around the house.  He gets frustrated because of the pain he is experiencing.  In the time he has been off work I would estimate that he has lost 50% of his mobility.

I tried encouraging, harassing and badgering.  All to know avail.  The under lying emotion I felt was fear.  Fear for his health.  Fear for what will happen if he doesn't keep moving despite the pain.  It scares me that he seems to have given up.

Getting back to my irritation. I had a brainstorm I would show him how much I was waiting on him for things he could do himself.  I threatened to give him ten chips, when they were gone he was on his own.  He thought it was way to low. For a week or so I just threatened. Then I was talking to a friend about my idea. She thought I was brilliant!

So the next day I gave my beloved ten chips. We negotiated that he could get chips back for doing things like picking up his clothes and putting them in the laundry basket, etc. I figured I would collect them quickly, especially since I was home on vacation from school.

To his delight I have yet to collect all of his chips on any given day! The up swing is that he did more for himself. He is moving around more. His eyes twinkle when he says, "Maybe you haven't been waiting on me as much as you think."

My response- "You don't want to lose your chips, so you have been doing more for yourself."

Another friend and her husband have weighed in on the experiment. Ted told my husband he would go to the Dollar Store and buy him more chips skewing how many he really had. Carol marveled that Dan was a rare husband that would go along with such a scheme.

Using the chips and negotiating - really helped. It's amazing what a little competition can do. I think we were both correct. I was waiting on him more than he thought, but not as much as I thought. The chips I've been using truly have become tokens of affection.

Baby Fritzy and the Christmas Slippers

I gave my husband a new pair of slippers for Christmas to replace the warm wonderful sheepskin slippers my sister's family had given him on a previous Christmas.  Those slippers had cocooned and warmed his cold feet until Baby Fritzy had chewed them to smithereens, hence the need for new slippers.

My dearly beloved whined about his cold feet.  At which time I lovingly reminded him that had he put his slippers up out of "Her" reach he would still be enjoying the warmth and comfort of his slippers.  He would give me wonderful impersonations of the warm and heartfelt emotions that grace basset hounds and their more jubilant cousins the blood hounds.

So I set about choosing a new pair of slippers to warm his "tootsies".  Since Fritzy has a leather fetish, I rejected all slippers made with this material.  I selected a pair of isotoner slippers made with black corduroy fabric, plush cushioning, and fuzzy fake fur lining.  I chose slip-ons for added comfort.

I had hid the present until Christmas Eve – because he tends to sniff out the contents much too easily.  On our way out to spend Christmas Eve with family I handed him his package. He held it, examined it, shook the box. Then cheerily announced they were slippers. I harrumphed and put the package up after securing Fritzy in the crate.

When we returned home Dan opened his package and donned his pair of slippers.  They warmed his toes and gave him great delight.  He took off his slippers before heading for a soak in the tub.  I was busy in another room.  Looking over my shoulder Sammi was on the love seat, Max was lying by the heat vent, Lady was at my side and Fritzy was laying in his recliner.

A short term later Dan emerged from the bathroom and we visited in the dining room.  He saucily asked where I was going to put “his” slippers to keep Baby Fritzy from eating them.  I lovingly explained that was “his” responsibility!  I went into the living room – Baby Fritzy was still in the recliner the slippers were still on the floor.  As I picked up the slippers I noticed the heel was wet and missing a small chunk of the fabric.  I looked at my husband and said “To late. She already got them.”

I turned to the dog and in my sternest teacher voice held the slippers up and told Fritzy she was a “Bad Dog”.  I then turned my sites on my husband as the dog jumped down and headed to my husband for protection.  Both she and my husband looked at me with “sad contrite eyes”.

I informed Dan that he needed to scold her for chewing on his slippers.  What I hear was a soft gentle voice say. “Baby if you chew your Momma’s going to get after you.”  

“Ahhgh” I tried explaining that he needed to set boundaries or she will continue to “chew”.  He looked at me with big eyes and responded – “She didn’t mean to r-u-i-n them.  Did you Baby? I just can’t get after her.” 

Fritzy looked up beseechingly next to Dan’s legs.  Seemingly asking “Are we still in the dog house?” 

Dan smiled sheepishly, “She really couldn’t help herself.  She knew it was wrong – but she only nibbled a small piece.  She had time to totally demolish it.”

I do not know which is harder to train - my big teddy bear of a husband – who turns to mush when he is faced with disciplining her or Baby Fritzy our charming rogue with a penchant for chewing?  Do they offer husband training classes?

This morning I looked through the sale ads – there are some great buys on slippers.  I guess I better stock up!

Baby Fritzy - What did you do with the Glove?

There are days when Fritzy does not chew.  Then there was last week.  I came home to find the remains of my hair brush decorating the floor.  I looked at the chunks of plastic pieces and asked Dan, "What did she chew up today?"

"It was only your hair brush."

I explained calmly that if he's not going to supervise her, he'd have to start cleaning up after her.  At this point I'm not sure which one of the juvenile delinquents I most want to throttle.

When I went out on the back porch I found one of Dan's gloves lying on the floor.  It was still intact - just missing it's mate.  I asked Dan, "Where's your gloves?"  He answered that they were in the living room by his chair."  I just smiled and handed him the one I found.

Later I caught her playing with matches. Can arson be far behind?  She had hit Tom's tobacco stash and stolen a book of matches. My little thief didn't stop there.  She took two of his caps.  Moved her plunder outside under a bush in the farthest part of the back yard.  

Yes she has a designated site where she stashes her ill gotten plunder.  I found the remains of the two caps and a dissected box of Almond Roca Cookie Mix, previously sitting on the kitchen table waiting to be made.  Interestingly she didn't open the individual packages, just the outside box.  Did I say she might be ADHD?  She is very easily distracted - thank goodness.  But I did not find the missing glove.

I asked Tom if he had seen the glove in the basement.  He hadn't.  What he did show me was very upsetting.   She had eaten the corners off his pocket bible.  And chewed up his reading glasses.  Leather seems to be her flavor of choice.

For the next day and a half Dan would show Baby Fritzy the glove and asked her what she had done with the other one.  I see you shaking your head - I know you think our household has gone to the dogs.  On second thought you may be right.

Amazingly I found the glove on the back porch by the outside door.  She must have finally remembered where she hid it.  I was glad she returned it no worse for wear. 

I don't know why but it's really hard to stay mad at her.  There's just something about that dog.