1. Smile Politely published an article this morning about chronic illness, and my story was one of those highlighted. It's funny. I spit everything about myself out here, but it's more intimidating to do it elsewhere. I think she captured my story well though. It's funny how cut and dried it looks on paper (so to speak) when it really has been such a long, wet, messy process.
We had a delightful lunch yesterday with our old friend, Chris. It's funny how comfortable one can feel with old friends even if it's been forever since you've talked. Once again I had to quiz the waiter on salad dressing ingredients and ask them to leave a bunch of ingredients off my salad. I hate doing that but I know I have to. It's foolish not to. I need to get over feeling embarrassed about that.
2. Neither of us felt like doing much for dinner so everybody was on their own. Ernie did his egg thing with fresh tomatoes from Heather and Steve's garden, and I threw together mmmm….not a stir fry exactly…I believe it would more correctly be titled 'a bunch of vegetables in a pan' kind of thing. Carrots, purple cabbage, spinach, zucchini, a few fennel seeds, a dash of cumin, some olive oil, salt, and pepper. Remarkably good. A little piece of tuna on top, but the vegetables were really the star. Look how pretty. Of course, Owen cooked some late-night concoction of chicken, onion, rice, sesame oil, smoked paprika and who knows what else. It smelled divine. That boy can book…he's mastered the pan sauce. I'm impressed and proud.
3. It's official. Our yard has never looked this hideous. NEVER. Even my WINDOWBOXES are straggly and out of control. Sigh.
4. Owen replaced the Bug's back seat, and it looks quite sharp.
Cyril is looking good overall. Ernie's brother, Mike, has been helping him with a few things, so Cyril is running better than ever. Without the kindness of his two uncles, Owen and Cyril would be in a sorry state.
5. The guys went to lunch with us the other day, but they insisted on driving on their own. Goofballs.
6. School starts next week for Owen. I can't say I'm looking forward to it. Sigh. Senior year. I hope to survive, as does he.