Winter Walkies

When cabin fever sets in, there's just one solution -- WALKIES!  Oskar and Ulani tolerate only so much couch time before they begin to call out to their brethren.  Bark!  Bark bark!  Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark!

It's tedious.

So even in the midst of a 8-12 inch lake effect snow event, I find it most useful to grab a leash and take them for walks.  Oskar is much slower than Ulani these days, so taking the dogs for walks means they each get one mile and I get two.  Our house is situated on the west end of our walking territory.  That means that if we head east, the first half of the walk is with the wind.  Doesn't take a genius to realize that means that the second half of the walk is into the wind.  Every time.  The alternative is to walk north or south.  When we do that, one cheek gets the wind going, the other coming back.

It's invigorating.  Really.

Today Ulani's walk was uneventful.  We raced out half a mile.  Then we raced back to the house.  Even she seemed more determined than normally to come straight home.

I decided to walk south with Oskar.  It's a shorter distance, easier for him.  We walked down no problem, reached the house where he sniffs whatever's left from their Monday morning trash pickup.  But the road was covered in ice, and as we headed back north, he slipped and fell.  Since he usually walks a bit behind me on the return trip, the first I knew of the problem was that the leash went taut.  There was an oncoming truck.  I quickly moved into the road in front of Oskar and the truck pulled into the other lane.  I had to give Oskar a belly lift to get him up with four legs under him.  He stomped a few times, then we headed out again.

The rest of our walk was uneventful.

Now the dogs have had their supper and they are dozing.  The house is peaceful.  And my cheeks are almost back to normal.

Taking Charge!

Tonight Oskar took charge.  No more stinkin' cats in the bed!  Bring me a drink!  Or a bone!

A New Bed for Oskar

Our house is built over an unheated crawl space.  Because of this, the winter temperature of the floor tends to be as much as ten degrees colder than the air.  Add to that the fact that I keep the thermostat at a conservative 60-68 degrees, and you'll realize that the floor can be darned cold!

Oskar has always preferred sleeping on the floor to being on the bed.  Except in the winter, when he climbed up on the sofa to curl up and snooze.  This year his arthritis seems to have taken his ability to clambor up.

I thought about getting him a heated dog bed, but I think it might be too much for a dog who never even had a bed of his own.  So I got him a fleecy crate liner with a padded edge.  Thought that might give him a small space heated with his own body heat.  Want to see it?

Oh, right, that's Abe.  Here's Oskar.

Yeah.  So far he has no interest in the new bed.

Ulani: Come into the kitchen!

The counters have been cleared off!

Well?

Please, I would be SO thankful for a cookie!

Weihnachtsstollen

It's a tradition.  Thanksgiving week I bake Weihnachtsstollen.  Yesterday was the day.

I met my first Weihnachtsstollen in 1979 when I was doing a semester abroad in Germany.  I lived with an elderly woman who had survived the firebombing of Dresden in the second World War, then escaped with her husband and the clothes on their backs just ahead of the Iron Curtain.  Grossmutti, as I called her, baked her stollen (which is also known as Dresden Stollen) in late November or early December, then placed the well-wrapped loaves "im Kammer" (which meant in the unheated vestibule closet) for a few weeks. 

The big reveal came the last Advent Sunday before Christmas, when at coffee time she'd bring out strong German coffee and slices of this delicious, yeasty, eggy bread full of dried fruit and nuts.  Resting for those weeks allowed the fruitiness to permeate the sweet bread.  It's fragrant and rich and delicious.  Did I say delicious? 

Baking Weihnachtsstollen is an all day affair.  Simply mixing all of the ingredients together until smooth takes a good long time, even in a mixer.  And it kind of wrecks your kitchen!

Then there are two long "rises" in the bowl.  My dough never appears to rise much.  I always worry about it.  But I think it needs a rest as much as a rise, so I stick with the recipe.

By mid-afternoon the dough is ready to be formed into loaves.  Then the loaves have a rise.  Finally, just about the time I'm making my supper, the loaves go into the oven for an hour or so.  And that sweet, yeasty smell finds its way into every nook and cranny of the house. 

Now you're thinking "start the coffee, the stollen's coming out of the oven!" aren't you.  But remember Grossmutti's practice -- a couple of weeks at least tightly wrapped and stored away.  It's hard, so hard, not to taste a slice right out of the oven, but look at how beautiful it is!

I want to have my stollen as the centerpiece of my Eggnog party table.  So I wrapped it tightly, and now it's sitting.  Waiting.

And so am I.