"quiet days" ≠ "good days" in this house . . .

It's been rather quiet in these here parts these past several days, though quiet doesn't always equate a good thing around here. Bob's had a low-key existence, but most of the time has been spent in bed, as the pain in his leg has returned with a vengeance, mostly when he's standing or sitting, but that means he spends most of his time lying down. Can't even make a Target run with me these days. The pain increase is likely the result of tapering off the steroid—it's evident that the drug did the trick in helping with pain, but when you weigh that against snuffing out his adrenal glands, well . . . tough call. He had another decrease in the steroid yesterday, as part of the tapering process, and it's amazing how quickly his body responds to it—yesterday and today have been tough for him, very worn out, like he wants to sleep but just can't, kind of restless, pain increasing. . .

I told him to try to visualize the tapering process as his body responding to releasing the synthetic drug, returning to equilibrium. . . the drug was doing all the hard work, now it's his body's turn to wake up and start taking over again . . . he said it sounded good, that he'll try that visualization idea, but maybe he just said that to shut me the hell up. His appetite is still good, makes me feel good about something, but his activity level is down, down, down, which can't be good for anything. Made a call to his primary care doc today, who recommended an increase in one of his pain meds, so we'll see if that helps at all.

Cardiology was supposed to call early in the week to let us know if they connected with the surgeons, but we didn't hear from them all day, so I'll be calling them first thing in the morning to see if anything has developed there. This holding pattern is so hard . . . Nothing's happening, it seems, nothing on the horizon, nothing to hold onto, but for what we hold inside of us, much of which comes in the form of prayers, well-wishes, support from family, friends, near and far. . .

Kind of a side note, but definitely related, St. James High School class of 1985, of which Bob is a member, is having their class reunion this weekend. He's never gone to one previously, before, as far as I know, never had any interest for some reason (I think it's because he was a super-dork in h.s. and doesn't want to relive that horrible era . . . kidding, peeps, just kidding). But, we were notified by a few classmates that they're hosting a benefit pizza buffet in his honor on Friday night . . . I get all teary, just typing that. . . and even though I tease Bob that St. James was nothing but a bunch of heavy-metal pot-heads (to which he counters that Mt. Lake was just a bunch of Boy George-Duran Duran-worshipping freaks . . . how we ended up together remains a mystery), I'm in awe that his former classmates are thinking of him like this, such a heart-felt, generous thing to do for him, we're just speechless . . . one of those wonderful, humbling yet oh-so-beautiful things that amazingly materializes in the middle of this hell . . .

So, I'm on a serious-as-shit mission to clean up our diets in a big, humongous way. I've experienced—we've experienced—first hand, the immeasurable benefits of a clean eating

lifestyle. We went crazy when Bob had his first heart attack three years ago, and it was astounding how great we both felt and how amazing his recovery was. And it was good, healthy food. Almost completely eliminated processed foods and replaced them with loads of greens, veggies, fruits, lean meat, brown rice, whole grains . . . We've kind of slipped from that in the past year or so, some of it due to just being lazy, other reasons because Bob's been so ill . . . Funny thing is, nutrition and diet are so hugely ignored in the realm of cancer, unless it's classified as "alternative" care . . . granted, Bob has had a whole host of things that have interfered with his food intake: nausea, mouth sores, loss of appetite, limited selection in what was appealing to eat . . . but still, true nutrition is so ignored in the grand scheme of things, utterly discounted, when it's been shown time and time again, in treating so many illnesses, to radically improve a patient's condition . . . funny, how we'll be so quick to pop a pill or subject ourselves to god-awful "treatments," but changing lifestyle habits—something that costs very little but results in astounding rewards—all systems of the body respond positively, the immune system is strengthened . . . but it's just not in the norm of prescribed treatment . . . (some of these food pictures look so damn gross and horrifically unappetizing, like the super-awesome, off-color photos in the 1970's cook book collection of my mom's that I somehow inherited. Enjoy!)

Bob's appetite is back, and he is eating much more and better foods than he has in a long

time, so I'm taking advantage of that. I went to the farmer's market a few times in the past few weeks, loading up on fresh, local goodies. Yesterday, I rocked the kitchen, making home-made pesto, a beet-potato stew, and a whole-wheat veggie pasta dish. Also made the basic components to a fabulous blueberry-green tea slushy (no, not from the farmer's market, but damn good fer ya, anyhoo!). Basic gist: put a small handfuls of blueberries in muffin tin, pour fresh brewed green tea over them (I let the tea cool first), then freeze tins to make little blueberry-green tea ice cubes. Pour remainder tea in blender, add cubes and slush. Then add a healthy dose of vodka . . . tonight for dinner was whole wheat angel hair pasta with my o-so-fabulous pesto (seriously, it was freakin' outrageous!), shrimp and sun-dried tomatoes.

Tomorrow on the menu might be something with zucchini and kohlrabi (no, no, not not in the same dish—do you think I'm nuts?? Oh, nevermind, don't answer that . . . ) Not a huge fan of kohlrabi, but it's so dang cute, like little Sputniks, I can't resist 'em . . . I remember making a rather tasty kohlrabi-apple slaw last summer, so maybe I'll try that again tomorrow. And some zucchini bread, for sure . . . perhaps shred the rest to have on hand for burgers, or whatever . . .

My sister, Jill and her cute-as-a-button girlie, Amelia, came over for lunch today. We had beet

soup and pasta salad out on the deck. As we sat out in the overcast but pleasant weather, a UPS van pulled up and dropped off a package. hmmmm. . . is Bob's doin' a little online shoppin' when he should be resting back there in the bedroom? I open the package and pull out two t-shirts, one in a man's size and style, one in woman's. Sofa King awesome, is all I can say! A huge shout-out to Cindy, Kelly and Kiera for these—you guys are sofa king great!!

Speaking of being out on the patio, my outdoor office is back and open for business, btw, thanks to the Menard's on Hwy 36, which seems to be the only store in the tri-county area that acknowledges summer is still upon us. Seriously, the other stores must be getting rid of summer inventory to make room for Christmas trees . . . man, who'd have thought it'd take stopping at every store that might possible retail patio

furniture, to find a decent table and two matching chairs?! But I did, and the're lovely, and best of all, on clearance (as was the one that had been shattered), so if another storm blows in and trashes this one, I won't feel too bad. Oh, hell, what am I saying? Of course I will. I love it out here. Our deck is sofa king awesome, it was painful to not be able to sit out there for two whole days I was without one.

We had another storm blow through Sunday night, though not near the strength or severity, at least in our 'hood, as was anticipated. We did head down to the the ol' cellar because we were in a tornado warning, and Dave Dahl kept saying a tornado had been spotted in Lake Elmo, somewhere off Manning Avenue, which is just a few miles to the west of us. So we're hangin' out in the basement again, with Gaia hiding in the furnace room and Rocco following us everywhere, little Nervous Nelly that he's gotten to be, taking shelter under whatever he can fit under as we move from one room to another, the office, to the family room, back to the office. I lost sight of him at one point, and started looking under the couch, under Bob's desk, in the furnace room by Gai, then back in Bob's office. I started to get a little worried, thinking he bolted back upstairs to hide under the bed. But, if it weren't for that little white tip on his tail, I just might have missed him. (He's hiding behind the curtain over the closet in Bob's office. . .) Hopefully, we'll have more info on surgery, etc. tomorrow. We'll keep you posted. LOVE! to all!