Good Dogs. Good Dog Food.

For Ansel and Dixie. With love.

It's not as cheap as dried dog food, but I think it's a better value for the health and happiness of my dogs. They get dried half the time. Homemade, the other half. (If I were rich, they'd get homemade all the time.)

Basic recipe:
1/3 protein, 1/3 vegetables, 1/3 carb. Sometimes I drizzle some olive oil over it.

This batch:
1 lb fried chicken gizzards
1 lb thawed frozen mixed vegetables
3 cups cooked white rice (brown would probably be better).

Cost:
About 2 bucks, enough for 2 happy, medium-sized dogs for 2 days.

Digging into the Deep

Digging into the deep freeze, that is. More kilowatt sleuthing.

Ugh! What's in here? Who knows! Time to discard, empty, and unplug the 1980s model chest freezer. I'm sure it's terribly inefficient and a good place to cut back those kilowatt hours my electric company charges me for.

I can't quite bring myself to just dump it all, though, even unknown packages with obvious freezer burn. However, my dogs Ansel and Dixie aren't nearly so picky. Over the next few weeks, I'll be thawing, identifying, and cooking. One mystery package at a time.

My basic dog food recipe:
1/3 cooked vegetables
1/3 cooked rice
1/3 cooked meat (no bones; cooked bones are brittle and can harm your dog)

They love this recipe and lick their plates clean. But, hey, I've also seen them eat fuzzy things out of my compost bin, too.


Did you know your freezer runs more efficiently if it's full? Check it out: 5 Ways to Fill Your Freezer for Efficiency from Discovery.com.

A Hare's Breath

"A Hare's Breath" 1, 2, 3, 4 (Click any to see larger)
January 2, 2010
West Odessa, Texas

Yes, the expression actually is "a hair's breadth." But for these pictures — of tenacious, diminutive hanger ons — I imagine a single light breath of a hare could send any one of them far from home.

These are more alley shots, my new unlikely favorite destination. I'm still meandering West Odessa's alleys, enjoying their hidden treasures, and saving gas. For the most part it's a place I can poke my camera at all manner of subjects, at my leisure, without making anyone uneasy.

I say "for the most part" because there are some who do take quite a lot of notice of me. Dogs.

Yesterday I was told off by a grumpy unkempt lady who didn't like hearing her dog bark at me. Interestingly she began with, "Can I help you?" but didn't mean to help me at all. "Ten minutes is enough," she scolded me, the length of time she figured her dog had been at it. Perhaps she had been trying to nap?

I would have explained about the great light at that time of day, about how I was hoping to capture the way weeds were glowing, even show her a shot or two on the LCD, which in my experience usually softens even hard cases who are suspicious of my intentions. But something about the way her hair was standing on end all over her head said she wasn't the receptive type. So, I only said I'd be done in just a few more minutes. Then she cooed to her dog, "It's okay, precious," and went back inside. Her dog barked at me for another ten minutes.

And it was in that (second) ten minutes I took the first photo above.

Do you go to great lengths for the just right light? Perhaps you'd also enjoy one of these past posts ->

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Two Photographers at Dawn

Mr. Elkins Does His Own Laundry

"Mr. Elkins Does His Own Laundry" 1, 2, 3, 4 (Click any to see larger)
January 2, 2010
West Odessa, Texas

I met Mr. Robert Elkins today. I made my acquaintance by simply saying, "Don't see many people hanging up laundry any more." And he agreed. He explained he doesn't like using his electric dryer if he can help it.

Mr. Elkins is a West Odessa resident, here more than 50 years. He worked the oil fields before he retired, worked as a roughneck and then a driller. I asked him who he worked for. He answered, "Everybody." I chuckled. I shared with him that I understood that too well. When I was a young bride, my roughneck (a "chain-thrower") husband had 13 W2s the first year we were married. Mr. Elkins smiled and agreed that's the way it was.

You couldn't give Mr. Elkins a million dollars for any one of his eight dogs, not that he believes in selling or buying dogs. They keep him going, he told me. His favorite is Pepper, the smallest. I asked why and he said because she is always cheerful and had never met a stranger. Right on cue, she rolled on her back for me to pet her little belly. Still, he didn't intend to have quite so many dogs. Take, for example his newest dog, Amber. Amber belonged to a neighbor, but the neighbor was gone for weeks at a time and she was left starving. We both shook our heads at that, two dog-lovers with ten dogs between us.

I made a new acquaintance today. Mr. Elkins does his own laundry, but this afternoon I helped him hang up the sheets.

Like stories about old timers? Me too. Perhaps you'd also enjoy this past post ->

Black and White Or, The Barber Who Doesn't Want to Be Famous