Sorry, I kind of left you hanging about the lump I found on my shoulder, last Saturday. I went to the doctor, and the verdict is it’s arthritis. I guess it’s sort of like the bunion I got scraped off from my left big toe, back in the early aughts, 2003 or so, a lump built up from chips of bone in an arthritic joint. Back then, when it got to where I could only wear certain Birkenstocks and running shoes because of the bump on my toe, I got it scraped off. Arthroscopic surgery. I can do that with the shoulder one, too, if it gets to where I can only wear certain shirts and bras. It does still kind hurt under my backpack. Maybe I get a new backpack.
To celebrate, I went out and had a beer & a basket of fries at Hopcat – good fries, terrible 70s & 80s soundtrack in the restaurant. I woke up the next morning with Madonna’s Borderline stuck in my head.
Fries with pickled jalapenos & cheese sauce for dipping. I had a ketchup puddle, too, with a separate puddle yellow mustard swirled in – the way my brother does it
It’s been a funny week of almost no cooking. Monday was the candidate’s debate, plus I was on my own, because Mark & Anna were in Chicago to see Sabrina Carpenter. I mean, Anna wanted to see her, and Mark gallantly chaperoned. I had toast with tahini & cottage cheese & jam before I went downtown to the debate. I had been planning on walking but ran out of time – seems to keep happening since the spring ahead time change – so I drove.
Tuesday was my fry night, pictured above.
Last night I made gnocchi with leeks and greens and peppers and cream and goat cheese and crumbs on top – somewhat like this Fine Cooking recipe, except I didn’t have a skillet big enough, so I made it in a wide deep pot. I think that reduced its appeal, that and I used mini gnocchi instead of bigger, more toothsome ones. Anyways, I ate a lot of it, but neither Anna nor Mark had any. I was trying to use up stuff that was kicking around in the fridge, like the box of baby spinach, and the sweet mini peppers that I can’t seem to get Anna to eat, no matter how much I push the tub of ranch dip to go with them to the front of the shelf in the fridge, and rotate the peppers to the top of the veggie drawer. There are only 4 left now, so hopefully I can consume them before they shrivel up. I am kind of doing the mom thing, eating the stuff the kid won’t eat.
I did have one success with making a dish that Anna liked – last Wednesday I made rice with chicken and peas and diced sweet peppers (a few more of those minis) and carrots and parsley. It was like this, but no cheese, and added more vegetables. She said it was something her mother made, and asked if she could make it on Monday, and I needed to go out and get cat food anyhow, so she came along. We agreed we’d go to the store and look for ingredients, and ended up buying a Stouffer’s frozen version that she seemed to like OK, but I knew I could do better. Tuesday when I got home she’d already eaten so I made myself a mushroom omelet with the mushrooms from Sunday’s full English breakfast, and then finally made the chicken rice dish Wednesday. Even Mark ate some when he got home, instead of walking to the corner sandwich store as he usually does.
But that’s all LAST week.
Tonight I won’t cook dinner either, because we’re going to see Punch Brothers at Orpheum.
I’ve also been writing posts that I’m a little afraid to share, fearing trolling – so I’ll hide them in the text here, like the one about the mayoral candidate’s debate (2 links so maybe someone will read it! besides my brother, who by the way is looking quite swell), and the one about separating the artist from their work.
And I guess that’s it for now – time to stroll up State St. for the show. It’s a very pleasant evening, and spring begins in something like 42 minutes.
