Food

Through out my High School years and after I got out of the Navy I found myself living in Los Angeles, California. For the most part I don’t miss it at all. There is however one general category where LA has it all over The Woods of NE Alabama.




"Food"



For Quality, Availability and Variety of food, LA is about the best there is. The best Mexican Restaurant in the world is "Gardens of Taxico" just off Santa Monica Blvd in West LA. "Canters" on Fairfax is a great Jewish Deli. The Café in the Farmers Market is the best breakfast made and Gulliver’s in the Marina does great Prime Rib. Taj India on Sunset does the best Lamb Curry and for that rare delicacy the "Chili Cheese Dog" Original Tommy’s is the place. For the best "if not most traditional" Pastrami Dip Sandwich you go to "The Jolly Jug" on Peck Road in El Monte. I could go on but let us not gild the Lilly.

Of course everyplace in the country has its specialty: Chicago has deep-dish pizza and Italian Beef Sandwiches, New York has anything from the Carnegie Deli and Italian food from Brooklyn. Pretty much everybody has heard of the Philadelphia Cheese Steak Sandwich, well I bet you didn’t know that the best Cheese Steaks "Ever" come from a little Sub Shop in Middletown, Delaware. Baltimore has Crab Cakes, Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina has BBQ, San Francisco has Fish, Dallas has Steak and New Orleans has "The Court of the Two Sisters."

So, with all this wonderful food abounding throughout the land why, oh why can’t I get any decent Chinese delivered in the woods of Gadsden, Alabama?

Uncle Dave

The Dogg Report

J. Edgar Dogg is about over his cold; in fact he’s much better. His nose is cold and wet again. He’s running around at top speed getting into everything and he’s eating everything in sight.

He is of course, still, a very strange mutt. I tried to take him out for a walk this afternoon but he refused to leave the house. I believe I may have the world’s only agoraphobic dog. He just hates to go outside. I love the little guy but I really can’t afford a shrink for him.

I guess I could live with him staying inside all the time if I could just get him to flush the toilet. Of course he never closes doors after himself. Yeah, and he keeps drinking all the diet sodas and he never turns off the computer when he finishes with his e-mail. I guess this is turning into a bit of a rant so I’m just going to bed.

Later Folks,
Uncle Dave

Oreo Deer

So, I was out wandering about the countryside of Northeast Alabama a while back and I came upon a herd of the very rare "Wild Oreo Deer" grazing upon a meadow. I was lucky enough to have my camera with me so I snapped a few shots. I had seen them or some like them some years before but this sighting was very unusual because they are becoming more and more rare and elusive every year. This is because we are having a resurgence of another wild animal, the giant "Pit-Wolf-Coyote" which, unfortunately, likes to feed on Oreo Deer.

The Pit-Wolf-Coyote is a very unusual cross breed made up of the three animals from which it gets its name; the Pit Bull, Timber Wolf and Coyote. They’re about the size of an Irish Wolfhound crossed with a Rottweiler and they have the disposition of a Tasmanian Devil. It is a truly formidable beast.

There is one strange and as yet unexplained anomaly that is common to most of the attacks on Oreo Deer by P-W-Cs that has the Wild Life Protection Community completely baffled. It seems almost every time a slaughter site is found all of the deer are left in the same manner. Apparently only parts of the carcasses are eaten. The middle section of the deer is completely devoured but both the front and aft end including the legs, head and tail are left completely intact.

Uncle Dave

Stuff

I think J. Edgar Dogg may be sick. He’s really warm and he’s drooling like an 80-year-old dementia patient, but he still has the presence of mind to sink his teeth into my arm just to hear me scream. Ornery little beast, maybe I'll put a shot of Sriracha in his water dish.

I got an e-mail from an old friend today. We worked together (Well Actually I worked for him) in the Navy in the early 70s’. He is going to be on vacation here in Alabama early next month and we are going to meet and talk about old times and what has happened to us in the last 33 years. I guess I have changed a bit since I left the U.S.S. Samuel Gompers in 1973. I mean, I weigh about 80 lbs., more than I did, My hair is a lot thinner then it was, and I am a lot easier to get along with then I was. As significant as they are those probably aren’t the biggest changes in my life. I won’t go into what that means right now, as Tom may be reading this and I want to have something to talk about when he shows up.

My nephew Dale has found me my very own web site so I may be moving this Blog yet again… but not for a while.

Well, it’s late, I think I will go to bed now but at least I wrote something today.

Uncle Dave

Protection

The following is an Excerpt from an April 11th 2006 News Article.

"PORTLAND, Maine - Spurred by growing evidence of a link between domestic violence and animal abuse, Maine has enacted a first-in-the-nation law that allows judges to include pets in protection orders for spouses and partners leaving abusive relationships.

In helping pets, advocates hope to help battered women and others who aren't willing to abandon their animals to be saved themselves."

OK! What about Us? I no longer have a woman in my life (This is not a complaint, just a statement of fact,) I do however have a dog and upon occasion I need protection.

Where’s the law that says I can get an order of protection from him. When can I get a document telling him that it is not acceptable to gnaw on my hands or jump up on my belly and land claws first or lay my forearm open with his razor like little claws? Of course there is the problem of getting someone or something to read it to him in his native language. No, I haven’t taught him to read yet; (He’s only 5 months old,)

I suppose you could say I should get rid of him, but, as I’m sure many of you know that would be impossible. I love him too much for that and I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me it’s always an accident. (Sound familiar?)

Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for the pets of Maine it’s a good first step, Now if someone could only find a way to teach violent people that an order of protection really means what it says…

I guess the moral of the story is that it wouldn’t do me any good to move to Maine.

Uncle Dave

Burnt

This morning I was planning to go over to my nephews house for lunch when J. Edgar decides he wanted to go too so he could play with his cousin "Cramer" (Thats cousin by adoption.) Cramer is a Crotchety old Grey Dachshund with a vicious snarl and third degree rug burns on his belly.

I did not think he would make much of a playmate. However it was a cool overcast day and Dale, my nephew has a great big back yard with a solid fence around it, I figured "Sure" what could possibly go wrong. So off we went.

While I was eating lunch, talking with Dale and playing with Jon (Dales 6 month old son) the sun came out the air warmed up and J. Edgar started burning.

Shar Peis are unusual in that they have Very light skin and they sun burn easily (Unlike Dachshunds who are dark and could not care less about the sun.)

The dogs had been playing a game we shall call "Stalk the Cats." This game consists of the dogs slinking through "Tall Grass" (Maybe 14 tall) and flopping down on their bellies until a cat wanders by at which time the dogs leap to their feet and bark like mad. This of course thoroughly annoys the cat.

Now cats are smart and soon they see whats going on and decide to turn the tables on the dogs. Now while the dogs are laying in wait for the cats a cat sneaks up on the dog from behind and pounces on him causing him to yelp loudly and Leap 3 feet in the air. A cat would not like this if it happened to them, but my dog thought it was great fun and wanted to play some more.

This is the point where it starts to get really hot in the back yard. Cramer comes up to the house, gets a drink and plops down in the shade. The cats climb the fence, walk down it to a part that is in the shade sit down facing the yard and laugh quietly at the dumb dog that is lying in the tall grass waiting for one of them to stroll by.

Everybody gets it but Edgar.

When I see that hes frying I go out and try to get him to come in but as with all dogs he manages to stay just out of my reach. After a short time (OK, Maybe not such a short time) I realize I am frying my own bald head and go back to the shade by the house.

Sometime after I have cooled down from the heat and sunshine I have a thought. I went over and started talking to Cramer. What was said was not important, but that Edgar saw me talking to another dog was important. As soon as Edgar saw us he came running over and started nuzzling my leg and trying to get my attention. This made hooking him up and taking him home much easier.

Once home I tried a small experiment. I took J. Edgar into his room closed the door and turned off the light. I swear that dogs face and head put out more lumens than his "Lassie Come Home night lite." There was something strange about the experiment though, there seemed to be another source of light in the room but try as I might I never did find it.

Cheers,

(Glow in the dark) Uncle Dave

California Trip

I had to go to California a while ago on short notice and had no one available to take care of J. Edgar Dogg while I was gone.

With no other choice available I put him in a kennel for the few days I was gone. "A kennel" or as he put it "Doggy Jail."

When I came back he was not a happy puppy. He glaired at me all the way home, he wouldn't walk on his leash, and I sware he got several prison tatoos while he was in there. "H A T E" across the knuckles of the left paw and "L O V E" across the knuckles of the right, and a little tear below the left eye.

Now, he's on the computer all hours of the night and he's running up my phone bill with long distance calls to god knows where.

I'm at my wits end.

I've tried locking him in his room at night but he picked the lock and I woke up with him with his front paws on the edge of my bed, he was growling at me.

Anybody out there who has delt with this sort of problem before is welcomed to offer advise.




Uncle Dave AKA "Frightened in Alabama."