AfterPunk

Me without Sidney Yes, he stole our hearts. We’re not new to the terrier rescue program. Before Sidney, two Scotties. Muffy and Buster. Both old, in their teens, and both died about two years after they came to live out their days with us. They were Scotties, old terriers with the remoteness that seems to steal over them all over the years, kind of like me. We loved them and they kind of loved us, Buster especially, and then they expired.  The two year thing weighed on us. We’d given up on rescuing greyhounds after seven gorgeous couch potatoes. They are too big for us now. Both of us are not exactly frail, but when they start to fail, as they do, we are not strong enough to cope. But our greyhounds, with one exception, lived with us for a lot more than two years. So when we saw a rescue cairn, who was billed as 6 to 8+ years old, we jumped at the chance. We can have him for more than two years! He had beautiful, incredibly white teeth, something we’d never seen in our greyhounds. ...

That’s not me, except for the body type. I do have a chef’s jacket (a gift).  But  it’s  not me because I don’t wear my expensive wristwatch anymore either. Never thought I’d be doing this. Yeah, I cook. Not like Gordon Ramsey or those other psychopath chefs. I cook, or used to, in order to feed women I love. Not going to get into the nitty gritty. You just have to assume I can deliver the goods, the meals people enjoy. The proof is they ask for them again.  Scrambled eggs and omelets (the bacon part is understood) All right. Some nitty gritty. No, you don’t just fling eggs (shells a’crackin’) into a skillet on high heat and push them around for a minute or two, with a ketchup bottle at the ready. Here’s what you do. Cook the bacon first. Medium high heat. Half a one pound package. Fork in hand, you start turning as soon as the sizzling begins. Only half needs to be overdone for your wife’s sake. This is 100 percent attention time. As soon as they’ve been turned onc...