Purrrrrrrrrrple! Paging Petronella Osgood - Broadripple Socks (Link)

When Cory was just a baby I undertook to teach him his colors and letters and other important stuff, just like parents have done from the beginning of time. As it turned out, I had a talent for sound  effects, and my specialty turned out to be the word "purple." 

Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr - pullllll! Repeat that a few hundred times, and by gosh, he got it.  Purple is still a favorite color, and we still do sound effects (Exxxxxxx - it! Gotta love those Sesame Street tapes.) So I guess it is no surprise that I have an inordinate number of purple socks and balls of yarn waiting to be made into purple socks. The socks I just finished are screamingly purple, which suits me just fine.

What doesn't suit me is that it has been such a long time since I finished a pair of socks that my fine finishing skills got a bit sloppy and I am unhappy with the toe I laboriously grafted close last night. 

The one on the left was grafted quite a while ago - perfect. The one on the right, last night's effort - not so much.

Never mind that I ungrafted and regrafted, and did some secret repair work from inside - it wasn't as perfect as I know I am capable of, and that annoys me to no end. Not so much that I won't wear them - tonight, to Tai Chi class - but just enough to step on a nerve. They are a little gappy in the ankle, but I never let that bother me. I have these dinky little ankles that have never been adequate to my weight, which is why I fell down so much back in my Big Girl days. As long as the socks stay up - and they do - I'm sock-happy.

Colors have such a direct effect on mood, and knitting is part of that. As relaxing as knitting is, there are colors I veer away from, such as red, orange, and certain greens, because they seem to poke me in the eyes and skew my knitting chi. In 2005, I left angry bunches of ripped out fuzzy red yarn stuffed into garbage pails all over the Republic of South Korea, switching instead to - you guessed it, purple - which I actually finished as a sleeveless sweater and wore on my last night there.

(Sadly, no one in South Korea is currently following my blog; Germany and Ireland are fighting for the number two spot like Marco Rubio and Ted Cruz, and my single loyal Canadian is bringing up the rear).

I have plans for today, which involve lots of fresh black coffee, laundry, and my next knitting project, which has already had the Big Reveal.

These are Broadripple socks, an original pattern by Rob Matyska, well-known in sock-knitting circles as a classic. The pattern is free at the Knitty link. I am using 2 skeins of Paton's Kroc Socks Stripes, color way Sultana Stripes, on size 2 DPNs.

One other thing that has been poking at my knitting conscience is a rather massive finishing project on a scarf.

A Very Big Scarf, perhaps the biggest hand knit scarf in the Known Whoniverse. (Yes, that is exactly what you think it is. So I'm a geek, shun me, kill me, laugh at me - my neck won't be freezing come next winter!)

Everything's got to end sometime. (Put another way, every end has to be ended.) Otherwise nothing would ever get started. Time to weave in those ends. Oy gevalt!

In making today's plans, I conveniently ignored the very real possibility that my fibromyalgia was going to sneak up and kick me in the back. Well, so it did. To which I replied "screw you", swallowed the appropriate doses of Advil and muscle relaxer and kept on truckin'. 

Fibromyalgics of the world, unite! And keep on trucking. Or take a nap. Either way, be kind to yourself. 

Stuff 'em if ya got 'em bell peppers

So now we pick up where we left off, with a toe in need of grafting.

It's called a Kitchener stitch, and when it is done, the toe of the sock will be closed without a hint of a seam. Think of it as weaving. I can never remember how to do it without first looking for the instructions online, and once I finish Kitchenering or whatever the proper verb is, I spend at least 15 minutes just admiring this little fiber-based miracle.

After that, I get to pick out one from my "many" ziplock bags of unfinished socks. You may wonder why I would start work on multiple socks at the same time, only to stop and start a new shawl or scarf, but all I can tell you is that it's a knitting thing. I suspect other crafts like quilting (and I know from personal experience needlepoint and crochet) attract the same sort of people. The joy of starting a new project outweighs any other point in the process. Some people, like my mother-in-law, have the strength of character to finish each and every project before casting on a new one, but when it comes to strength of character, I am sorely lacking.

Yesterday was Bethe's yahrzeit, marking 3 years since we lost her. I was so focused on Cory's birthday dinner that I did not feel the date as I usually do. And yet, she came to me at a low point during the afternoon. And I miss her. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Our dinner at Morimoto's Asia was such fun. We finally got to try the Peking duck and their pork bao and a calamari salad that was unexpectedly fantastic. The boys tasted a "flight" of 4 different sakes (sake is most definitely not my drink) and we talked and admired the beautiful rooms.

Today is a day well-suited to making stuffed peppers as requested by my husband. Jewish stuffed peppers, not southern (given a choice he always chooses the Jewish version) which also happens to be one of the very first "real" recipes I learned to cook while back in college (and that, my little chickadees, is a very long time ago). The sausage and peppers I threw into the crockpot a few days ago is a big bleh, because the sausage itself was annoyingly bland. I won't be buying that again, and I know I won't be eating it (I'm kind of weird that way). I was going to make meatballs with the ground beef, but I couldn't get excited about them, and it turns out Rob already thought I was going to make stuffed peppers when he saw me buy the bag of bell peppers and the ground beef. Listen, I'm no rocket scientist, but I can work stuff like this out, and I will eat a stuffed pepper or two along the way.

I made these with 2 pounds of ground beef and however many peppers I happened to have in the produce drawer. You can see some of the peppers are rather small. Interspersed with a bunch of normals, so prepare to be flexible when it comes to number.

This is the kind of recipe you commit to memory, like eggplant parmigiana or beef brisket, something that's been in your family for so long it is as familiar as Flatbush. Meatloaf. Basically, there is 1/2 cup of rice cooked in 1 cup of boiling water for about 8 minutes, then drained and set aside.

In a couple of tablespoons of olive oil I sautéed a sliced leek, a shredded carrot, and 2 chopped garlic cloves. If you wanted to grate a small onion and leave it raw (instead of the leek) fine. Leave out the carrot. Add some fresh thyme leaves. You get the idea. 

Combine the ground beef with the cooled leek-and-carrots, the cooked rice, 2 eggs, some ketchup or chili sauce (Heinz, not Asian style) and season with salt, pepper, granulated garlic, whatever. Stuff the peppers with the filling and set aside while you make the sauce. You can leave the peppers whole or cut them in half before stuffing, the only thing that might change is how long you cook them. The sauce is 2 cans of stewed tomatoes, 4 tablespoons brown sugar, and 6 tablespoons lemon juice. Break up the tomatoes and heat it up or not. Pour it over and around the stuffed peppers, cover and bake at 350 degrees for 60 to 90 minutes.  

Enjoy. You will, I know.

And then there were five ... needles

Let's see if I can list them: Donald Trump, Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, Dr. Ben Carson, John Kasich. Jeb Bush dropped out after the South Carolina primary. Things are getting serious in the Republican Party. Here at home, too - I want to take a shower and wash and dry my hair, and I am afraid to start. The part about drying my hair is the worst, as I have trouble holding my arms up long enough to do the job. Up until now it's been a pleasant day, sunny outside, almost relaxing despite Rob and I still coughing our heads off, but that whole wash-and-blow-dry thing has me shaking.

Today I'm in one of my "fight or die trying" moods, when I manage to trick myself into believing I can beat this thing if I just try hard enough, spoonie be damned. So I did my best, stood my ground, fought down the urge to chuck the whole mess out the window, and voila!   Front okay, back not so great. So I bought me a do-over with a little more styling mousse, and now I can leave the house without pulling a big, floppy hat down around my ears.

Sunday score: Cindy-1, Fibromyalgia-0. If only it was always this easy.

I've always thought that the most creative people in the world are the ones who wear crazy socks. It takes nerve to wear crazy socks under your wing tips, and let's face it, you'll never get a promotion, but crazy socks are cool, like bow ties and fezzes. I always wore pantyhose to work (and I'm proud to say it's been 356 days since I last pulled on a pair of those cheap nylon sausage casings) but outside in the real world, it was all about the socks.  For years I bought my socks at Target, especially the ones with puppies and kittens in all over patterns. Flowers, birds, bunnies, holiday themes, bright colors all tucked into my Nikes, mostly hidden from view by the length of my pant legs. My own little secret, not quite as titilating as a black lace thong but just a little bit bad. (Was I ever going to grow up? Hell, no. Especially if growing up means wearing a scrap of black lace held up by a piece of unwaxed dental floss creeping up my nether region, I say the hell with it. Cotton lollipops are good enough for me.)

But about 15 years ago I decided to tackle the Greatest Knitting Project of all - the humble sock - and I got hooked.  Never mind the first pair being a disaster, or that the only human with feet big enough to wear them was my man Shaquille. I kept trying, working on my stitch gauge and committing myself to giving up my favorite size 7 bamboo straight needles and knitting with a set of 5 long, double-pointed toothpicks.

Knitting socks is like getting a tattoo - just one time and you are hooked. One day you're having a delicate little butterfly tattooed on your wrist, and the next you're wearing more ink than than the workers at a Faber Castell ink cartridge factory. Once you've worn hand knit socks (and you've accepted the fact that you are limited to wearing clogs a size larger than normal for the rest of your life) you can never go back to store-bought. Never. And you will never need to because hand knit socks last practically forever. Nothing will ever feel as right for your feet. Nothing else will ever look as nice or will hug your cold and tired tootsies with such gentle loving care.

I don't know how many pairs of hand knit socks I own, but I have one or two that are beginning to show wear, and another pair that should not have been machine washed, no matter what the yarn label said. Since I am wearing socks more frequently during Tai Chi, I simply need more socks. I really want more socks. So as soon as I finish grafting the toe of these purple beauties, I am off and running  (limping, whatever) to finish another pair.

I know I said I don't have the count on my stash of knitted socks, but I have at least half that number in unfinished socks, or as we knitters refer to more generally, UFOs. Unfinished objects. I got over
the guilt years ago. Each project is neatly tucked into ziplock  bags, just waiting to be set free. Think of my closet as a sort of Hand Knit Sock Phantom Zone. Not that there are only socks in there ... never mind.

And the winner is ...

Something is wrong. My keyboard and I are out of sync. My touch screen and I are also out of sync. I'm starting to take this personally. It's true that I am still getting adjusted to the iPad Pro and the new keyboard case (no idea of the brand at the moment), but both seem to need the application of a firm hand, which I do not presently possess. My hands shake, flutter, flake, and shoot sparkles from my fingertips, none of which is normal. Also, they are so icy cold that I cannot get the touch screen to respond.

So that was yesterday, Thursday afternoon, and now it is Friday and things are looking up. I finally made it to Tai Chi class last night, and while I coughed my way through part of it, I managed the rest and felt good. I am getting ready to head over to the office for cookie delivery and lunch date with Terry. Normal!! I feel normal! Had I really been in that much pain for so long?

The only good thing about having such intense pain is that once it finally breaks, the relief is positively giddy-making. I had such a wonderful visit at the office and lunch with Terry. I have plans for the future, including maybe the annual chili contest later today, my first cat show next weekend, and an engagement party in March.  Life is measured in tiny steps now; the good one are too rare and precious to ignore.

Friday was also Cory's birthday, although we'll do our family celebrating at Morimoto's on Sunday. Which is today. See how that works? Writing has become a bit troublesome for me lately, and I haven't been doing much in the way of cooking either. The blog is kind of limping along (like me).

I did cook on Saturday, but it was hardly my best work. Two crockpots chugging along with whatever I'd thrown into them, recipes I'd made before and neither one a hit to my palate.

I indulged my interest in politics, letting myself get all worked up about the Nevada caucuses, ready to write a scathing message to young liberal women regarding their lack of support for Hillary, but I took a walk down by the lakefront instead, and when I got back, she'd been declared the winner. Good thing too, because I was white hot angry. I'll save it for another time.

Finally, I have finished the foot of the last sock, which I feel like I've been knitting since 1983. Once it's done, I'm going to pick up yet another unfinished project and chip away however slowly. At this rate, I won't have to ever buy any more yarn for knitting. Even if I live another 30 years, which is a real possibility, I'll have enough yarn.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday - Red Beans and Rice

6:30 AM on Day 9 and I am beginning to suspect I am going to live through this, the worst flare I've ever experienced from the fibromyalgia. I still have the remnants of that deep cough, but I think this is its last hurrah. 

7:30 and I'm not so sure. I walked to the bathroom with my cane, I got dressed; I gathered up all of my medications and returned to my bed to set them up in a pill organizer. I could not have stood up at the counter to do this. Even sitting on the bed sapped more energy than I'd wanted to devote, but it's finally done and I'm glad.

I really want to go downstairs for coffee and something to eat, but once I'm down there I won't be coming back up for a long time, so this trip has to be perfect, meaning I have to be able to carry everything I'm going to need for the day, like iPhone, iPad, knitting, pill case, wallet, cane, and one small Yorkie.

So I pushed and I prodded myself and I accomplished more than I expected. I took care of online registration at Princess Cruises. I got into the State of Florida Retirement website and got as far as I could. I prepared red beans and rice and that is the recipe I am going to share with you today, whatever day today is. I've got myself set to call the Princess Travel Lady in California just as soon as Pacific Time has turned into working time, so I can refine our airline and hotel reservations. God willing, I'll make it toTai Chi tonight. (Didn't happen.)

Somewhere I lost Wednesday. I went to the therapist - drove there, first time driving in a week - but I had electric needles in both hands, and flash hallucination of color patterns. One flash of overall  color, then back to normal. Reminds me of a project I did in 12th grade art. But I had these flashes at 4 different times today, different colors, all bright. Shiny, and just a bit scary.

The Princess Travel Lady called back and is trying to initiate my idea, but the airline schedules are not cooperating. The Pope and Donald Trump are having a papal pissing match, very sad. The President is not going to attend Justice Scalia's funeral tomorrow, which borders on treason. Instead, he sent Old Joe and Dr. Jill, who have already had their fair share of funerals this year and deserve a break.

This is a non-meat version of red beans and rice, from chef Robert Irvine at Food Network. I made a few minor changes, but here is Chef Irvine's recipe just as it appears on the Food Network site.

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 large cloves garlic, lightly crushed with the side of a knife blade and minced
1 large red onion, diced
1 stalk celery, diced small
1 green bell pepper, stem and seeds removed and small diced
2 (15 oz.) cans Goya small red beans, rinsed in water and well-drained 
1 teaspoon granulated onion 
1 teaspoon granulated garlic1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves, chopped1 tablespoon Crystal hot sauce

1 can Campbell's chicken broth plus 1 soup can water

1 cup long grain white rice
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon sliced green onions (green part only of the thinnest green onions you can find)

Heat olive oil over medium heat in a large saucepan. Sauté the vegetables, starting with the onion; let them cook until softened, then add the celery; after time to soften the celery, add the garlic and bell pepper and cook until all the vegetables are very tender. Stir in the small red beans, granulated onion, granulated garlic salt, pepper, thyme leaves, and hot sauce. Reduce heat to low and let mixture simmer slowly while you cook the rice.

In a medium saucepan, bring the chicken broth and water to a boil and stir in the rice and butter. Return to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover and cook for 20 minutes without removing the lid. Remove from heat and let stand for 5 minutes, covered. Uncover the saucepan and fluff the rice with a table fork. Fold rice and beans gently together and transfer to a serving dish. Serve garnished with the green onions.

Goodbye, Justice Scalia, Hello Political Haranguing

Although I did not agree with his brand of staunch conservatism, I always had a soft spot for Justice Antonin Scalia. I've mentioned previously that my favorite US Supreme Court Justice is The Notorious RBG. I may not have mentioned that my least favorite is Clarence Thomas. Clarence doesn't speak - he hasn't asked a question during oral argument in 20 years. Clarence doesn't think - he always waits until Scalia decides, and then he concurs. Oh, hell, what will Clarence do now?

But I had met Scalia in 1990 and he made a huge impression on an over-aged law student from a tiny Jewish law school out in Long Island's Suffolk County. He was approachable, warm, and humorous.  He was smart, and he was comfortable with his smartness. He was one of the judges at a Moot Court Competition at Brooklyn Law School, and I was part of the team representing Touro Law Center. We won two third-place awards - first time little Touro had done that in a national competition - and Scalia handed us the awards with handshakes all around. Although we would never sing in the same key when it came to legal decisions, that evening in Brooklyn would remain one of the best moments of my life.

The angry posturing by the Legislature and the President regarding who gets to fill the open position on the High Court is disgusting. Really, the Court cannot sit in a limbo of 4-4 decisions for a year, which is what the Republicans want. And the President should not be trying to sneak in a recess appointment; this position is too important to take away the Senate's right to investigate and interrogate the nominee.

And that's my opinion.

In the meantime this is Day Eight of this never-ending illness, with its raw, harsh cough rattling deep in my lungs, and the pain from the heavy pressure against the back of my head and shoulders. I have nothing left to give to fight this. I can't walk or stand and keep my head erect. I keep experiencing muscle spasms. I can't lift my hands easily to use the iPad; I haven't got the strength, and if I try to force the issue, my hands shake and I start hitting random keys. I remain certain that this illness is taking place at the intersection of a really bad cold and a fibromyalgia flare, which is why I haven't bothered to go to the doctor - he doesn't "get" fibromyalgia, and I am too tired to try to educate him.

I am tired of this crap, and I am going to try to accomplish something, several somethings, as a matter of fact, starting with a nice hot shower with lavender body wash. If I live through that, I have a bunch of stuff to take care of, online and on the phone, regarding our cruise to Alaska. (Less than 3 months. I am so excited.) Cooking - I haven't done anything more complicated than butter a corn muffin in well over a week. Time to make the rice and beans.

Hope springs eternal , but I can't get passed the shower. I can't stand up to dry my hair. I can't support the weight of my head or the weight of the blow dryer. There came a time I gave serious thought to going to the rheumatologist, and later on Rob asked me if I wanted to go to the ER, but I slept those suggestions off. Nothing got done today, and there were times I cried from pain and sheer frustration, but I am where I want to be, in my home, in my own bed with my husband and a couple of Yorkies. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Cindy's Very Bad, Terrible, No-Good, Awful Week

This has been the first time I've had a cold since fibromyalgia messed up my life, and it has turned into one of the worst colds ever.  It feels like the flu, with all the muscle aches and vicious headaches. My skin hurts, my throat is burning raw and any coughing sets off more pain, and my hair hurts. I also have almost no balance or hand control, nor the strength to remain standing. I have been crying for three days. Today is Thursday, and for a brief moment I feel a bit better, at least as long as I do not try to get out of bed. I'm still terribly dizzy, and more than happy to leave the driving to someone else.

I did some online research on having a cold with fibromyalgia,and it seems we all experience the  exact same super-sized symptoms. We are unable to find some degree of relief, in part because the pain is erupting from the fibro rather than the cold; the cold is just making it worse and it was bad enough. This has given me a whole new perspective on what it means to be an invalid. Helpless, hopeless, and deeply depressed.

This is a pretty wicked cold all by itself; Robert has it, and has been advised by many of his clients that it is "going around" and there is really nothing that can be done for it. The fibro just enhances the experience.

Now it is Saturday morning, the first time since Thursday morning I have felt strong enough to lift and open the iPad. Rob and I had to miss Guy Fieri at the Dr. Phillip's Center on Thursday night. The narcolepsy from Wednesday took over, and while I do not know what today is going to bring, once I got back from the therapist Wednesday evening and posted the last blog entry, I crawled into bed and any attempts to crawl out set off incredible stabbing pains and dizziness.  I have a heaviness in my head and shoulders that can only be described as having my former 275 pound body sitting on top of them while hugging the top of my head. The few times I've climbed upstairs (having made the earlier mistake of walking downstairs) the pain and muscle exhaustion was almost unbearable.

Rob has been terribly sick as well.  I'm not sure how he is managing to plow through tax season, but I know he is taking naps during lunch. Neither one of us has eaten more than a bite of two since this virus landed.

I had let my instructor know I would not make Tai Chi class on Thursday because of the Guy Fieri performance but now I know I would not have made it anyway. Friday night he called to tell us he had to cancel Saturday's class, which is just as well since I still don't know if I can stay standing for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

I apologize for these last few posts, but when the most exciting thing I can write about is pain, it's bound  to be a bummer. Let's hope tomorrow is better. I would love to start cooking again, but the thought of handling a long sharp knife is still a bit scary-making.

Cindy's Very Bad, Terrible, Awful Day

WTF is wrong with me? Oh yes, that's right, I have fibromyalgia but I was feeling good, and I really tried to avoid over-activity, and I still ended up hurting like I'd been beaten with a baseball bat by someone big and powerful and angry. You know, like the Hulk.

The pain crept back yesterday after several glorious days, so I took the muscle relaxer and half a dozen Advil and I stayed on the couch with my feet up, thinking happy thoughts. When I had to walk, I did so lightly, conscious of the admonitions of my Tai Chi instructor. But just bending down to check for something on a lower shelf in my pantry caused my evil headache and backache to rise to the surface, and a sharp pain it was. Damn, it's bad.

Wednesday is a really big day on my schedule, and I have to plan carefully how I expend my energy.  For someone who thrived on being a hyperactive multitasker for at least 35 years, this is a bitter pill to swallow. But Wednesday is the day I see my therapist, and missing that is not an option, unless I am on a cruise and mentally planned for my absence several months before.  Wednesday is also the day after Tuesday, the evening of which I go to Tai Chi class. Both of these involve getting in the car and driving a distance, and I'm sure you can see how I have to be careful throwing around spoons. So Wednesday morning is not a block of time for which I plan anything more strenuous than getting out of bed and getting dressed because I need to leave by 2 PM and I have to be alert to drive on the Thruway. Not anywhere as exciting as starting a TPR trial with 10 or 20 witnesses. I miss the TPR trials, I really do, especially when my friend Chris was there on behalf of the Guardian ad Litem Program.

Wednesday is also the day I do any shopping I might have in the Dr. Phillips/Windermere/Bay Hill area, so I don't park too far from the therapist's office and I use my cane, thus saving my spoons for Whole Foods, Fresh Market, Trader Joe's, Einstein's Bagels or Toojay's.  

Good plan, eh? Well, fuhgeddaboutit! Wednesday morning was extraordinarily horrible,  The cold which has been lurking in my system exploded with full force and effect. My muscles, my joints, my eyes, and my head causing me pain, both sharp and dull all at the same time.  A combo platter. I wept in my room, and all the way downstairs. I took Baclofen and Advil in addition to my regular morning medication. Despite the muscle aches, I don't think this is the flu - I don't get the flu - but rather, this is what happens when someone with fibromyalgia gets what is otherwise a mild cold.  Unless this is the flu - hell, I'm a lawyer, not a doctor - but either way, this is one of the worst days I've ever had.  Back to bed, and I pray I'll be well enough to make it to the therapist. My plans for a nice hot shower, an early trip to Publix, and all the rest, are on hold.        

Did anyone notice that Bernie Sanders is playing footsie with the "Reverend" Al Sharpton? Think about that.

I pushed myself to do more than I should have and I feel very bad. I am so glad to have made it home; there were times I wasn't sure I would make it. My reflexes are absolutely squirrelly and I've had to fight repeated bouts of narcolepsy.  I sincerely hope your day was better than mine.

Throwing Cold Water On "The Bern" - Young Women, Wake Up And Smell The Damn Coffee

Checking my blog stats today, it appears that Vladimir Putin has lost interest in me, but I'm still a minor sensation in Ireland. Very minor. In fact, Poland has slipped past it, which is a little weird, but not as weird as the appearance of the United Arab Emirates. One brave soul in the UAE peeking in on how to make kasha varnishes and real Jewish potato latkes. That tickles me, it really does.

While my mind is still in happy mode, my body is finally feeling the effects of my being up and about, walking a little more than usual. First, I have what is still a mild cold, which popped up yesterday, about the same time I passed out on the couch for an unscheduled nap.  Second, my back is hurting to the degree that I took the muscle relaxer at lunch time.  

I really have been trying to conserve my spoons. There was no cooking yesterday, nor do I have plans for today more elaborate than using the microwave to reheat my coffee. What I did do today was stand on my feet for too long while I finally got to the task of making up cookie trays for the office. Now I just have to gather enough spoons to drive over there (4 minutes, really) to deliver the sweets and enjoy a little visit.

I have been immersed in politics - how can anyone avoid it? - and of course today is the New Hampshire primary, which HRC is expected to lose. There's been a whole hoo-hah going on regarding the way former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, and Gloria Steinham addressed the younger generation of women who are supporting Bernie Sanders instead of Hillary Clinton. Since I am part of the generation that spent time hammering with our fists on the glass ceiling - I agree with both of those ladies, although they might have expressed themselves a bit inartfully. So let me address today's young women: at another time, I might be gratified that you are supporting Bernie Sanders despite the fact that he is Jewish. There has never been a Jewish president, nor vice-president, so that if Bernie was to actually win the General Election - not likely - it would be historic and deeply meaningful, at least to me.

But before that, I want you to think about the fact that the United States has NEVER had a female president or vice-president, putting us way behind countries like Israel, India, Germany, the Philippines, and the U.K. That we are still lagging behind in this regard infuriates me. For as hard as we women fought in the sixties and seventies, and for all the achievements we made - finally seeing a woman appointed to the Supreme Court, finally seeing a woman (the aforementioned Ms. Albright) appointed as the all-important Secretary of State - we cannot get passed the glass ceiling to the ultimate goal. The one woman who is in the best position to make this happen is Hillary Clinton.

I am not going to pretend that I was not bitter when Barack Obama swooped in and won the Democratic nomination in 2008. It occurred to me then and since that even in this essentially racist nation, the voters would rather see a black man than a woman as President. I have said this many times since then, but I still believe that women are the last disenfranchised minority in the United States.

Young women, did any of you take offense when Carly Fiorina was excluded from the recent Republican debate by the ABC network? Regardless of her being Republican, you should have; you should have been FURIOUS.

Think about all of this before you go into the voting booth.

Damn, that Baclofen really worked; I am able to sit or stand without tears coming to my eyes.

I am about to exchange one soapbox for another: Beyonce's disgraceful performance at the Super Bowl halftime.  Honoring the Black Panthers - wrong time and place. Record whatever you wish, make your video, offer everything to the public for sale so that people have a choice as to whether they want to subject themselves to that content - but don't force all those millions of football fans, looking forward to the halftime show, to watch your offensive political statement. That's not the way MLK rolled, and neither should you.                

(I'm not into public body-shaming, but Beyoncé, damn, girl, your booty is just too fat for that costume, and what's with the thunder thighs on your dancers?)

Sometimes, Sunday, a good day

This weather is driving me cray cray! Did I imagine it, or was Siri snickering at me when she gave me today's temperature? Two days ago it was in the eighties and I had to run the AC in the car. Today it is 46 degrees at noon and I feel chilled to the bone.  I don't own a winter coat, but if I did, I would wrap myself in it and go back to sleep.

Despite the cray cray weather, this has been a good day and getting better. Pain has been minimal. Energy level is good. Another day-after-Tai-Chai when I can feel some lasting benefit. The house is warm. I've been playing with my new iPad and it makes me happy. The Magic won in a last-minute nail-biter. And we have a dinner appointment with our very good friends Kathy and Alan at Morimoto's Asia.

Dinner was wonderful, and seeing old friends was the best. Kathy and I met at New Paltz when I was seventeen.  You do the math. We were college roommates; we were in each other's wedding parties. Our husbands became fast friends; I (and later Robert, and even later, with Cory) spent every Christmas Eve with them from the year they got married (1972) until the year we moved to Florida (1991). Their children, all grown up now with kids of their own, still call us aunt and uncle, and that's what Cory calls them. I could go on, but you get the idea: old friends are the best friends.

I had that fibromyalgic rarity, a really good day. I'm going to enjoy this as long as I can.

Congratulations to Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos for winning Super Bowl 50. Time to retire, Peyton, and it's always good to go out on a high note.

The Weeds Are Always Greener In My Own Backyard

My son has a warped sense of humor. Just like mine. Craving a vegetarian lunch, I took the cauliflower out of the fridge and saw that he had certainly understood the reference. This is a proud parenting moment for me, indeed. Harvey Korman is smiling down on us from Heaven.

Speaking of cauliflower and other cruciferous vegetables, I found the nicest surprise in (what's left of) my garden, when I'd gone out to harvest some collards and mustard greens.

It's been a rough season for my garden.  I neglected it scandalously while my health was deteriorating this past autumn, and the cold weather delivered the coup de grace. Some plants enjoyed winter nipping at their nose - cruciferous vegetables love a touch of frost - but everything else basically gave up the ghost.  I've learned not to plant okra, eggplant and tomato that late in the season, no matter if Lowe's and Home Depot are carrying them in their garden nursery.

Kumquat tree 

My garden did the best it could, under the circumstances, and besides a fairly decent amount of collard, mustard, and turnip greens, I found the beginnings of BROCCOLI!!  CAULIFLOWER!! and even a head of CABBAGE!!    Okay, it did freak me out just a bit that my cabbage bears an uncanny resemblance to Audrey II from "Little Shop of Horrors" but as far as I know, the cabbage hasn't started crying "feed me" in Levi Stubbs' voice. It's just a cabbage, after all, not a "mean green mother from outer space." At least that's what I hope.

Broccoli

Cauliflower

Audrey II?

Even the kohlrabi is giving it the old college try, and while the Brussels Sprouts haven't yet appeared, I an confident that they too will make a Grand Entrance. Of course around here, "farm to table" is a two minute trip out the back door.

Kohlrabi

The greens are being turned into the Andouille and Mixed Greens with Creamy Dijon Sauce from my January 16, 2016 blog post except I added more turnip, only one little one came from my garden.

Still have to prepare the creamy Dijon sauce

I did use the smallest turnips I could find in Publix, and they do add a peppery substance to the finished dish that I like very much.

Rob and I'd had to stop in the AT&T store yesterday to straighten out a few problems, and we walked out with a new iPad Pro. Isn't she beautiful? I love her already.

And all of the problems were straightened out. Great place, that AT&T store.

Slow Cooking Without A Slow Cooker - Spanish Pork Chops (Link)

This dish may have taken Rachael Ray 30 minutes to prepare, but I'm 90 minutes into it and I'm not done.

I used bone-in chops, and let them cook longer in the oven

This is not to suggest that Rachael is a bald-faced liar - on the contrary, I've made this dish before and finished it in well under an hour - but this is the first time I've tried to make it since fibromyalgia moved into my very immediate neighborhood, and besides moving more slowly, I'm having to stop periodically to catch my breah, recharge my engines, or just feel sorry for myself. Besides demoralizing me, this is upsetting Anakin because I am seated on "his" stepstool.   However, if I scoot over and give him half, he's quite happy - so much so that when I got up to chop more vegetables, he stayed in his spot and left half of the seat for me.

The weather is kind of sucky today, and I slept much later than I had intended to.  If not for the fact that I really had to cook these pork chops while they are still fresh, I would still be in bed. I've got to gather my spoons before it is time to head over to my Tai Chi class. I seriously need to go to class, as it has been a whole week, and I am finding it hard to sink and relax.

Preparing the vegetable for the stuffing

It took the entire afternoon, but I finished it, at great cost to me in spoons and good cheer. I'd previously written up a neat list of telephone tasks to take care of today, but preparing a relatively simple dinner for four took everything out of me, and none of those other tasks got touched. I keep getting worse, and I am sincerely frightened.

Cooking the longaniza with the vegetables

I had to take a nap, albeit a short one, curled up in my favorite corner of the couch, so that I could drive to St. Cloud for Tai Chi. Driving was terrifying between the rain, the dark, and my fuzzy vision, but I made it, and I'm glad I did.      
                                                                                                      

Combining the longaniza and vegetables with the crumbled corn muffins

If I had one piece of advice to pass on to you today, it would be "don't try to play chess at 1:00 in the morning." Especially with a computer, which by it's very nature of being silicon-based, never gets tired. Yesterday I was thinking I was finally beginning to understand the game, but by today (it's 2:00 AM on Friday as I'm writing this) I was back to making stupid mistakes. Overtired and just a little bit of fibro fog when I couldn't recall that the Horse is called the Knight, and found myself moving pieces to protect the Bishop, which I had mistaken for the King. Ha! Let's try this tomorrow ...

Side view of finished dish

The recipe link is on Rachael Ray's website as Spanish Pork Chops with Linguica Corn Stuffing and Cherry-Rioja Gravy. You can also find it on the Food Network site.  There are a number of Rachael Ray recipes I like, but this is a favorite. Yes, I did make some changes (no, really?) I used an entire 12 oz. jar of Smucker's Orchard's Finest Tart Cherry Preserves, but I tasted and carefully balanced the sweetness with salt and more red wine. For the beef stock, I poured a 10 oz. can of Campbell's beef broth in a 2-cup glass measuring cup and added enough water to make 2 cups. I used Longaniza Puertorriquena, which I was hoping to be a linguica-type sausage, and it was, and it was delicious. And I used the open Cabernet Sauvignon for the red wine.  It has turned out to be an absolutely perfectly delicious wine for cooking, and I presume for drinking as well (I don't drink red wine).

Top-down view of finished dish

And now that it is officially Friday morning, I am drinking coffee and congratulating myself on completing at least one task from that neat little list. I paid my fine to the Commission on Ethics. One more thing done with, not just now but forever. It is no longer the Commission's business as to what assets I own and what debts I carry. Kiss mah grits.

Next goal is to prepare a fax to the firm handling my Social Security disability matter. If I can get that done, I'll declare the day a success. The Tai Chi sufficiently relaxed me so that waking up and getting out of bed was not as traumatic as usual, and my memory was working to the extent that I could practice the 21 moves of Preparation Form, Beginning Form, and Ward Off Left. Sort of. I still think I'm screwing up some of the moves in Preparation. Close enough for government work - ha, that's funny. Almost.