Must be quick and breezy today, as I need to pop out for groceries this afternoon. And bake some bread. And write a couple of other posts, come to think of it. Here goes!
This post is guaranteed free of April Fool’s jokes. My ability to make good jokes never got off the bus. I’m notorious as being unable to put a joke across, even someone else’s joke.
I’m now feeling fine again after a mysterious episode of ill health. All I know is it was somehow connected to my sinuses, and resulted in my feeling quite unwell, and unclear enough in the head that I didn’t want to drive the car. I dragged around the house, falling asleep any time I sat down for more than five minutes, and saying to myself, “Perhaps this is just old age, and I’d better get used to it.” Not so, I’m glad to say, as now I’m back to my old self, with a fair bit of energy and lots of interest in…well, the things I’m interested in.
One thing brought home to me by the little bout of illness is how dependent we are on me. Ricardo helps out as much as he can around the house, but he cannot cook or even open a can of soup. Parkinson’s Disease has taken all the power from his hands, and even using the key to open our little mailbox in the lobby is beyond him. He pays bills using the telephone (he cannot write clearly enough to write cheques), clears the table after meals, and empties the dishwasher in the morning, but that’s about it. I must remember to keep a few soups and stews in the freezer at all times so we can still have a good dinner even if I don’t feel well. Our daughter and son-in-law live close by and are very kind, but I don’t want to ask for help unless it’s absolutely necessary.
What does a person have to do to buy a pot? My most-used pot, one that holds about ten cups, is showing signs of wear and I thought I would get a new one. I use it every morning for our cooked cereal, and sometimes in the evening too. It’s given good service, but is on its last legs. So yesterday we went to Canadian Tire, the place where I get small kitchen appliances as well as lots of sundries such as extension cords, which I also needed. They had some very nice-looking pots, but only in whole sets! I don’t need any other cookware, thank you. There was one measly cheap pot, but not good enough for hard use, I judged. So we stopped by London Drug, the other place for small kitchen stuff as well as pharmacy, electronics, etc. Same thing–sets of cookware only. Picked up some other things we needed, but I still don’t have my new pot. And worse–now I have to start searching around for places that might carry unattached pots. Hmm–there was an old Italian hardware store over on Commercial Drive years ago where I bought a great huge soup kettle. I wonder if it’s still there. Where do you go for a single pot?
Here’s another question for you, dear readers: how do you get out of a garden centre at this time of year without a plant in hand? I am a sucker for every little herb start in existence. And don’t tell me not to go in in the first place. I find that a greenhouse atmosphere soothes my jangled nerves better than anything else. Escaping without buying, though–that’s hard. Any advice?
Should I watch the program on the Borgias that’s due to start this Sunday? I like historical dramas, but “The Tudors” was historically inaccurate, and that plus all the near-naked shots put me off so that I only watched a couple of episodes. I know about the problems with the Papacy, but will my blood pressure be able to handle what the producers do with their juicy material? Jeremy Irons is a real drawing card for me. What say you?
It seems I have nothing but questions for you today. The final one is this: why does the prose of Conan Doyle suit me so perfectly at bedtime? I’m quickly running out of Sherlock Holmes stories. What should I go to when I’ve exhausted them all? Help!