I'm with the big dog

Years ago, Kent had a dog named Max. Max was part basset hound, part cocker spaniel, sized more like the Cocker Spaniel, but with the barrel chest of the basset hound. He was super sweet but not the brightest dog around. We knew he was getting old, so we got a second dog, Molly, thinking that we’d have two dogs for a while. Molly was mostly German shepherd and pretty big, about 75 pounds.

About a week after we’d gotten her, we took both dogs on a walk. Oh you should have seen Max—he practically strutted with his tail way up in the air, so pleased to be out with Molly. If he could have talked, we were sure he’d have been bragging to everyone: “Look at me, I’m walking with the big dog! Isn’t this the coolest?”

Anyway, last weekend when my sis was in town, she ran with me. Now you have to know this about Amy: she’s always been a hero of mine in the way she’s stayed active, climbed crazy high mountains, gone ice climbing, run marathons. She’s just amazing. I don’t know anyone else who could go run a marathon at the last second when a friend asked her to.

So there we were out running last Saturday and all I can think is “I’m with the big dog! Look at me getting to run with her, isn’t this the coolest??” I was so proud and so happy to be out there running with her.

Before we ran

A report on salt

A few years ago, my sis and her husband gave us a cool collection of salts for Christmas. We use Maldon salt as our daily salt so my sis knew we’d enjoy trying other kinds of salt.

Then we moved and honestly I forgot about the salt—it sat in the back of a cabinet after we moved from Boston to Overland Park, and moved again to our home in Leawood. But when I was organizing our kitchen cabinets a la KonMarie, I ran across the salt and decided it was now or never. So I put the container on the counter and we started experimenting.

To be honest, I had no idea if the colors would translate to differences in taste but mostly they didn’t. Some were saltier or in the case of the smoked salt, smokier. But the main difference we noticed had to do with how fine the grain was and whether the color of the salt discolored our food.

We started with the one on the far right, the Murray River Pink Flake River Salt from Australia and both liked it. I especially liked the texture because it’s flaky like Maldon.

Next, we used the Hawaiian Red Alaea Fine Sea Salt—and boy was it red. It looked like paprika on our food! The taste was fine and the red added a little punch of color to things like eggs.

The Cyprus Black Flake Sea Salt from Cyprus was utterly black—it looked very black on our food and it stained our fingers. So we moved on.

I’m not a fan of most smoked flavors so the next one—Viking Oak Mountain Salt from Denmark—was and is all Kent’s to enjoy. He likes to add it to meat, he says it’s a nice flavor. I’ll take his word for it.

The Himalayan Crystal Pink Mountain Salt from Pakistan was probably the most subtle of all the salts and also had the finest grains. It was a very pale pink, the kind of pink that doesn’t really show up. It wasn’t nearly as pink, for example, as the Murray River Pink Flake River Salt.

Finally, we’re currently using the Qab-nab Taab Sea Salt from El Salvador. It’s also got very fine grains, and a nice mild taste.

So there you have it, a report on some interesting salts. Thanks, Amy and Greg, this was a fun gift!

The S word

Pretty sure my sister Amy will understand this post.

Growing up, our folks had pretty clear standards on what constituted being sick (and therefore being able to stay home) and what not feeling well meant. So if one of us kids were running a fever over 100F, or puking or had diarrhea, well then we were sick and could stay home. Simply not feeling 100% didn’t get us anything except a trip to school.

I've kept those same standards as an adult. I go to work if I just feel blah and I stay home when I'm sick and I keep my nasty germs away from everyone else. I only wish all the folks I work with would do the same thing but apparently some are indispensable and come to work no matter what.

I’m guessing that’s what happened to me. Someone just had to come in while sick and pass a gastro virus to me. 

I’m here to tell you that I’m sick. I’ve got the requisite fever, and I will not need to participate in a lower bowel cleanse to start the New Year (if you get my meaning). And I’m at home, where I belong. A very kind coworker is dropping off my laptop tonight on his way home (he lives in the same apartment complex we do) so that just in case I can sit upright tomorrow, I can get some work done.

Do you go to work when you’re sick? I mean really sick, not just feeling poorly? If so, shame on you!