I found myself with leftovers from a previous day: then freshly Steamed Broccoli and one Turkey Polish Sausage. I broke the broccoli into smaller pieces, sliced the remaining sausage, and heated them in butter before adding three whipped eggs. I should have used a larger skilled. I did not think! Once the omelet had set (approx.), I added grated mozzarella and provolone cheese. The omelet folded nicely, but would not turn over.
We wandered about for a while in the back yard, yesterday. Samantha then settled in on the office desk chair for a long nap, while I looked through photographs (and took a nap). The weather was sunny, but chilly. Most of the flowers are surviving, but there will be no peonies, this year. The freeze-hot-freeze cycle, combined with the lack of snow cover over the winter, was too much for them. The skateboarders were out in force, doing their thing on the street in front of our house. (See previous post.)
I fell asleep after last night’s post. Without the computer in my lap. And I woke up without the alarm to feed Samantha approximately on time. I am hopeful that I can continue to get up and stay awake for an appreciable time during the day. And not eat any more Italian sausage before Monday. In the meanwhile, it’s omelets for breakfast, I think. (Oh, yes, even though the omelet pan didn’t get to the “to be washed” stack after its last use, which was browning the Italian sausage.) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ On our last grocery outing I selected two different packages of grated cheese with omelets in mind. And grits, but didn’t remember to buy grits. Sometime this week, surely.
Last night, I raided Al’s stash of shaved smoked ham, which I ate on flax bread with slices from the block of mozzarella cheese. When I first woke, I brewed coffee, but also heated water for tea. I also am doing the sports drink thing for the dehydration (smoke exposure). Swelling of my face and neck is going down.
The day was cool, but sunny. Memorial Day’s passed, and school’s out for the summer. Children and youths have returned to the neighborhood streets. So has outdoor cooking, as well as illegal fires in the neighborhood. I expect that I will not be sitting outside in my gazebo often, except when it rains.
On that happy note, I must mention our weather forecast. We have a flood warning; the Red River has now grown beyond low flood stage due to heavy rains in May. It’s clear now, aside from locally smoky conditions, but beginning on Tuesday (50% chance of rain and thunderstorms), precipitation is mentioned in the forecast through next Saturday. Rain and thunderstorms! I’m wondering if the river level will go down, only to start going up again if the rain starts up in earnest again.
I have had a lot of fun taking photographs of tulips, wild flax flowers and such. And I look forward to a visit with family members who live some hours to the southeast of us.
Since I’ve been falling asleep a lot during the days, my sleep schedule is way off. I may still get a chance to go through some of the flower photos. In the meantime, I am down a meal and must explore the inner recesses of the refrigerator. At lunchtime, I had a hunger for cream of mushroom soup with additions of freshly steamed broccoli and braised Italian sausage. The taste is heavenly … but I do not dare to eat that sausage twice in a twenty-four hour time span.
At least I’m not having breathing problems, as indicated by both my SpO2 percentage being firmly in the normal range (who would a thunk it?) and pulse rate in the 70s.
I awoke early, but didn’t get around to making breakfast until a quarter of seven. Several times I awoke during the night to find myself sitting in my recliner, my laptop desk across my legs, and I believe I dozed off a lot after finally waking a bit after five o’clock.
Breakfast was simple. A two-egg omelet with a couple tablespoons of strawberry preserves, two bunching onions, and a few red seedless grapes. Also, dark and strong black tea from a bag. So happy that the coffee maker will heat water for tea and at the same time brew coffee.
I got half of the dishwashing done. That would be the flatware, the smaller frying pan, a couple of glasses for beverages and a mug for tea. All I need now are disposable cups and glasses, and I would be totally happy. The full sink consists of glasses, cups, mixing bowls, and yogurt jars. （￣ー￣） I could subtract the added expense from my monthly allowance.
Before dark I took tulip photos, but just took them off my camera while the omelet was cooking. Samantha has just come in again from the back yard, where the neighborhood rabbit has dug a burrow in the north corner of my garden plot (which I have not prepared for planting because of the frost and excessive rains). I wonder how much of the garden I would have to dog-proof in order to ensure the safety of the baby rabbits when they arrive.
Stayed up until rather late, but once again I awoke a little past seven o’clock, this morning. Still, I did my morning reading, and then made coffee just before Al’s alarm went off. This morning he took me up on my offer to make scrambled eggs for him and bring those along, too. I poured coffee for myself, but never got around to drinking it.
This morning’s breakfast included orange juice, plain omelet, seven blackberries and a sliced tomato. It was filling, so Samantha got pieces instead of leftover scraps from my plate.
Last night we decided to go out to eat. The first Applebee’s Restaurant that we went into seemed to be having trouble with one of the air handling units in the kitchen; what we’d thought when we first walked in was “Oh, what wonderful smells of cooking onions!” But when we were seated (near the kitchen door), it became evident that there was smoke involved. I made my way unassisted to a comfortable chair near the door, while Al made our apologies to the floor manager.
The lure of Monday night’s $5.99 burger special was not diminished, however, and so we drove to another of the chain’s restaurants that was along the route home. There were no problems with air quality, and so we enjoyed a lovely meal.
Al considers pullover shirt and bluejeans to be a universally accepted wardrobe. That’s what we’re both used to wearing. Actually, aside from my long skirts for lounging and outdoor work, that’s what I’ve got in the closet besides the obligatory formal funeral skirts and jackets with sleeveless shells in various colors. With my shorter haircut (a quarter of an inch, rather than three eighths), black t-shirt from blood donation years, ratty looking bluejeans and an old shirt (which pretended to be a jacket to keep the rain off the t-shirt), and Al also wearing an old shirt and bluejeans, we must have looked like buddies, perhaps taking a break from cleaning the garage, to get a little supper. Our hostess greeted us with “Right this way, gentlemen!” as she escorted us to our table, and, on the way, looked at me and asked how our day was going. I, a contralto, responded, “It’s going good, thanks. And you?” I got an immediate apology and a very compliment on my summer haircut. We were amused, Al and I. Observed that it has to do with the length of hair; my ceasing to wear pierced earrings (2002) did not noticeably affect gender identification, all other things being equal. I do think the hostess’s response of an apology and her follow-up on my attempted icebreaker comment about our too often making assumptions without paying close attention was the most comfortable. A welcome change from the embarrassed silence and pretending it never happened.
That was a long way around. . . . I woke up today with chest congestion and irritation, expanded chest cage and inability to take a deep breath or to empty my lungs as fully as I needed to (animal fat smoke in the air at the first restaurant), and so I had to use the nebulizer, today. I still have 14 doses with an expiration date of June 2015 and 25 that expire in September. I needs must find a new doctor; Dan left Sanford in late June of last year.
The albuterol has made me sleepy. Think I’ll take advantage of that and take a nap, now.
Just in case you’re only following one of my blogs…I’m rather fond of this one because of the still vivid memory, half a century ago, connected to the poem. I am surprised, I guess, at how large a majority of my most favorite memories involve solitude and the feeling that the moment has become timeless. That I could tell when time started up again.
The day was beautifully cool with high clouds, but no winds at all. We have a promise of light rain and calm winds toward morning, and the same tomorrow, although winds may be over ten miles an hour.
I spent the day quietly, except for a visit to Barnes & Noble with Al to take advantage of the weekend in-store Buy One, Get One Free ebook deal. Today’s theme was “beach reading”. Getting ahead of us, here in North Dakota. Definitely not beach weather.
I added to the stack of unwashed dishes and flatware, preparing several meals, today. Breakfast was light. Just scrambled eggs with veggies, fruit on the side, and six ounces of fresh, homemade yogurt. (Samantha, my cocker spaniel, is very good at cleaning yogurt jars of all remnants.)
For lunch, I ate a chicken breast (rotisserie leftovers), and then spent several quiet hours in thought, while Al was out and about. The pistol range was closed for Sunday and Monday, which are the days that Al usually volunteers.
I enjoyed walking in the back yard with Samantha and also reading some posts on Facebook. My nephew Patrick and his wife (two years married, perhaps) are expecting their first child and are picking names. Alex wants the first two children (assuming a boy and a girl) named after her father and mother, but has asked Patrick to select middle names. So he made a post of acceptable names and asked for opinions.
I also picked up my copy of The Trail of Divine Beauty (R.L. Laliberte, 1996), today. I have finished chapter one, which is the introduction to the dissertation: “Jonathan Edwards: A Philosophical Life”. Chapter two, “Philosophy of Nature: The External World”, brings me to somewhat more familiar ground. It was a course in contemporary religious thought that drew me into a major in philosophy. Different eras, but the same basic issues are there. Edwards died shortly before Hegel was born.
Samantha had dog kibbles with a teaspoon of yogurt for her dinner, and I made up a salad of eggs, tomatoes, cucumber, &c., and greens, with grapes to finish.
I have appreciated the mix of activity and thought and relaxation. We have tomorrow, also, during which there are no obligations. Al is still working on his Python programming and also picking up more useful documentation on PHP and HTML to combine with his SQL experience during his last position before retirement.
After I brought Samantha inside, this afternoon, I went back for a few minutes to take pictures of the new tulips that have opened. I had not thought that they would have survived the many cold and frosty nights since they first peeked above the ground.
The wild flax plants are also making an appearance in the garden plot, which has been too wet for me to prepare for planting. At least there will be all those lovely wild flax flowers! It looks like they’ve spread out since last year’s showing. Happiness!
Dinner: I ate the other thigh and leg from the rotisserie chicken that we bought on Friday. Also, a six-ounce jar of the yogurt from the batch that I put in the refrigerator to cool, somewhere around four o’clock in the morning.
Supper: Still thinking about it. It may involve strawberry ice cream and the rest of the chocolate pudding.
I can hardly believe how much time during the day I have spent sleeping. I must once again schedule my cooking around my night’s sleep, and not my catnaps around my cooking.
ETA: I believe it’s the pineapple & coconut ice cream that I finished; about a third of a pint in all. I woke up between 7:00 and 8:00 a.m., the next morning, and only took one nap during the day.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Linger.”
I loved to spend the first part of my morning walking throughout the extended neighborhood, camera in hand, to take photographs of the flowers just wakening to the warming sunlight. I love the unfolding of all sorts of flowers, the shapes of their leaves and petals, the solid colors, shades and mixes of hues one wouldn’t think to put together otherwise. And it’s a marvel, how in place a honey bee, a butterfly, a bumblebee or wasp looks in a flower, no matter its color.
The wild blue flax flower is best photographed in morning light, because the petals fall to the ground in the afternoon. Only one flower at a time grows on each stem. Hostas flowers have a delicate grace all their own. I have to walk fourteen or fifteen blocks to photograph hostas. Along the way are roses in the church yard, petunias in the planters in front, lilacs and peonies, if the wind hasn’t torn them to shreds.
My favorite flowers, though, are the tiger lilies. At one time, close by, there was a family with Scottish terriers that had a marvelous garden with tiger lilies planted around a shade tree on the boulevard where I could photograph them at any time of the day and evening. They reminded me of the flowers in the private garden, in the hospice area of the independent living center, where my husband’s mother had taken an apartment the year before.
Those neighbors and their flowers are gone, now, but the photos and the pictures in my mind evoke memories of love and comfort, consolation, the presence of family members even in their absence. Now, wherever I walk, I look first for the flowers and hold my loved ones close to my heart.
Our storm materialized, although no snow seems to remain on the ground, even though the temperature reached freezing, this morning. The neighbors were out in their winter clothes, covering their flower and vegetable plots.
I am not sure what my tulips are going through, and I expect I won’t venture forth to find out until the winds and rain have stopped.