Popcorn, Sundrop . . . and more waiting . . .

(Gretchen, Jen & Jill at the farmer's market, pic taken by Sophi or Amelia . . . )

Went to the farmer's market yesterday, with my sisters and two of my nieces, to pick up a few items for the coming week's meals—some eggs and porkchops, cabbage for slaw I wanted to make for lunch, more greens for my world-famous green smoothies (oh, you just wait, non-believers, you just wait!) and garlic. Didn't need too much this time, thanks to Karen and Tim's beautiful bounty. A lovely morning, and as always, good times with my peeps. The

balloon artist was there again, made a dolphin and a whale for the li'l girlies. I asked her if she's ever had a request that she just couldn't do—only a few that were too intricate to complete in just a few minutes, she said, which is really all the time she can spend on her amazing creations, given the line of people waiting. But, she could do a fire truck if she had the time, she assured us . . . Jill's going to try to book her for Amelia's upcoming birthday at the end of August. I can't wait to go! And I'm so gonna ask her to make me a balloon Eiffel Tower . . .

Jill and Amelia came over after the market excursion to share a late lunch with us—walleye sandwiches from the leftovers we had Saturday night, on cute little french rolls (from A Toast to Bread), topped with fresh sliced tomatoes. Jill created a fabulous side of Brussels sprouts sauteed in olive oil, with garlic, onion, cashews and a few dashes of maple sugar (yes, sugar, not syrup, though in a pinch, syrup would probably work as well. I'd certainly try it.). Bob's not a big fan of Brussels sprouts (funny, the things you learn about your beloved, after 18 years of being together—I would have sworn he liked 'em . . .), but made the way Jillybean made them, even he enjoyed them. To round the meal off, I whipped up the coleslaw that I though was going to suck hugely because once I started making it, I realized that I didn't have any carrots or much mayo left (and had even been staring at the carrots at the farmer's market, saying to myself, oh, I don't think I need any of those . . .)

What to do, what do do??? Well—being the culinary genius that I am, I improvised, of course!Taking a quick mental inventory of what we had on hand and how flavors of ingredients can either play upon each other, enhance, compliment one another, or create disaster, I . . .ummm . . . well, okay. I didn't really put that much thought into it. I punted. Rather than dumping a half a head of cabbage out back for the rabbits, I grabbed what I thought might work with the cabbage: shredded a few tart apples that I'd bought last week at the market, tossed in a few big handfuls of raisins, mixed it all up with a 1/2 and 1/2 dressing of regular & wasabi mayo (Trader Joe's), few splashes of apple cider vinegar and agave syrup. I held my breath while I held it out for Bob to taste (I was afraid the wasabi mayo would be too hot for his still-tender tongue) . . . drum roll . . . Bob gave me a 9.5 on the slaw, ladies and gentlemen—a nine-point-five! He told me he never gives out tens (always room for improvement). . . sorry about the super-disgusting picture, btw—looks like I ralphed the meal back up onto my plate. I got half-way through the meal before I realized I'd forgotten to take a picture! Enjoy. No, really. Enjoy that image.

Last night, Bob actually ventured out of the bedroom and came out to the living room to watch some golf. He hasn't done much of that lately, since it's more comfortable for him in our bed, and because he's not sleeping well, he tends to stay in bed to try to catch up on elusive sleep. We had such a late lunch that by 8 pm, neither of us was really hungry yet. I asked if he just wanted to find a movie on TV, I could pop some popcorn, and we could just forget dinner for tonight. Sounded like a good plan to him.

As luck had it, The 40 Year Old Virgin was on a cable channel, and Bob had never seen it. I'd seen it before, but has been a few years (didn't realized it came out in 2005, that long ago). Regardless, if you haven't seen this movie yet, don't walk—run—to the nearest Red Box, Blockbuster, pop it into the #1 slot on your Netflicks queue, do whatever you gotta do to see this movie asap! Or if you have seen it before, watch it again—ranks right up there with The Hangover, some seriously good humor, peeps! When I came into the living room with our bowls of air-popped popcorn (one of the many items I inherited from my Dad when he passed away was the cutest little air popper that shoots popcorn all over my kitchen counter and floors,much to the dogs' delight and my annoyance, but I still love it—makes a quick bowl of corn, no burnt ones, lots of old maids), I saw a can of Sundrop on the coffee table next to Bob. Sundrop?! I haven't had a

sugary soda in I don't know how long, a Sundrop in even longer. He said there were more in the basement, his parents left 'em when they were here last. Do I dare?!? hell, yeah . . . and, with Sundrop and popcorn as dinner, we settled in front of the boob tube to watch the movie. As funny as it is (I had forgotten just how much—the waxing scene alone is worth the whole movie—I start giggling just thinking about it . . .), the coolest thing: to hear Bob laugh like he did last night. Something I haven't heard in a very long time. Not great big huge belly laughs, mind you, but lots of snorts, chuckles, even giggles, coming from the couch . . . we stayed up till after midnight, to watch through the bitter end.

Today was errand day (??? As if all the other days are Bon-bon-Eating Days. Every day is errand day, to some degree—laundry, ran to Trader Joe's for a few provisions and a spin

through the new Goodwill in Woodbury—it pulled me in, like a little planet sucked into a black hole—and came out with three new sundresses, a pile of summer tops and shorts, all cute as all-get-out, for $35! A tinge of guilt at the frivolous purchases, but I cab sell my plasma the next time we're at the U, to make it up . . . came home and spent a few hours in the kitchen preparing the veggies I got from Karen & Tim, Bob's parents and the farmer's market. Shredded some zucchini, cooked up beets, made a big batch of green smoothies, then started dinner. Baked eggplant parmesan, spinach pasta and marinara sauce. Not my best work tonight, peeps, sorry to say . . . the recipe for the eggplant was a big disappointment. I had used one last year that kicked major ass, but evidently this one wasn't it . . . grrr . . . I have a few more eggplants, maybe make another run with a new recipe later this week, just to redeem myself . . . wasn't terrible, but wasn't what I remembered. But, I will post the pictures, as I need to share the good with the bad, the successes with the failures, so here y'go.

Made a call this afternoon (or two . . . I'm nothing, if not persistent. Some might say annoying . . .) to the colorectal surgeon's office, to see if they know anything more about Bob's surgery, because everyone we talk to points fingers at Doc M as being the reason for the holdup. His nurse was very nice, but couldn't tell me much. She gave me the number to the scheduling person in the colorectal dept., saying this person could give me a better idea where things stood. My call went right to voice mail when I tried that number, so left my rambling message, then went to putter around the house and yard, waiting for the return call. Of course, it came when I stepped away from my phone for just a minute or two. . . the return message said Bob was on a "waiting list" for the surgery on August 27, and that we'd probably hear a week or so before the actual date if it will actually happen or not. W.T.F?????!!!! I relayed this message to Bob. "A waiting list?" he asked, the look on his face almost more than I could stand to see. "What does that mean . . . oh, man . . ." he said in helpless exasperation.

That's it. I got back on the phone, left another message with Doc M's nurse, this time, laying it on even thicker . . . I can't say this enough to anyone i talk to at the U, that it's not like this surgery just came up, it's been months in the making, with countless set-backs. Bob's bedridden, his pain is not managed unless we decide to jack him up on insane amounts of medications (ain't happenin' again, folks), this is an emergency. . . got a call back at quarter to five, as I was getting the pups' dinner ready. Gaia is raspy-howling in the background, so I have to go into the laundry room to hear her. She continues to howl at me through the door. His nurse told me the same thing everyone's been telling us for weeks, that it's a complicated scheduling process, there are many doctors with lots of schedules to coordinate, that everyone is working hard at trying to make this happen . . . yeah, but, in the meantime, Bob suffers, has been for over nine months now, it's ridiculous that everyone is okay with him existing like this for weeks on end. . . all the doctors are in place, I'm told, their schedules are cleared, but now, it's a matter of getting on the OR schedule for the day, that's what "in line" means. Bob's in line for the OR room. It's a long surgery, requiring a big chunk of OR time . . . yeah, yeah, yeah, and as I said, in the meantime . . . she said that she can't say with any degree of certainty, because things always change, but she really feels that the August 27th date is going to work out; with everyone working on Bob's case is putting a lot of pressure on the OR staff to make it work out . . .

yeah, but in the meantime. . .