Midnight in the Garden of Fried Green Tomatoes

I love Savannah.  It is one of my favorite cities, full of shops and restaurants and beautiful parks, those unique squares, and the most incredible collection of architecture.  I truly cannot remember how many times we have stayed there (although if I checked my Marriott account, it would list each and every time we booked in Savannah.)  Lately, I have been hinting about a weekend in coastal Georgia because it's been a while.

It is a sad fact that I tire easily.  I try to deny it.  I tell myself that now that I am out of the unbearable stress of my job, I do feel better.  But the truth is that "better" is a relative term, and that while I feel better, I don't feel good. I have missed more than one social event because of it.  Long distances, big crowds, all wear me down now.

As we all know, "denial is not just a river in Egypt."  Somehow, I failed to appreciate the affect that my chronic pain and fatigue have had on our traveling habits.  Admittedly, our most recent cruise was not entirely comfortable for me - I had forgotten my cane, and was in the middle of a medication adjustment.  And until Robert gently pointed it out to me, it did not occur to me that no matter where I go, I take this thing with me, even on a mini-vacation.  I love to walk, and to fully appreciate Savannah, you really need to be able to walk.  It's all about stamina, and I don't have much of that anymore.

I do have a cane, and I'm not dead yet.  But it galls me to admit that I went to Publix for a short shopping trip, picked up the ingredients to make my grandmother's meat sauce, and came home too tired and in too much pain to do the cooking.

I took something for the pain - half the recommended dosage - and after about a half hour, I got some relief.  I also had a nice, long, dreamless nap on the couch.

But honestly, I would have rather been in Savannah.  At the Lady and Sons, or a.lure, or Vic's on the River, eating good food that someone else had cooked for me.

When I do get around to making the sauce, and the lasagna rolls, I will have fresh basil leaves and fresh parsley right out of my garden.  Good thing I don't need any mint because somewhere in the neighborhood, a family of aphids has minty-fresh breath.  I have a sweet mint and a spearmint plant, and both show definite signs of being devoured by something small and evil.

So I shot 'em dead.  Yep, a few light shots with the same stuff I used on the hibiscus.  If Andrew Zimmern wants to eat bugs, God be with him, but I'm gonna shoot 'em dead.  Except lady bugs.  I don't kill lady bugs, and neither should you.  They are good for the environment, and so very pretty.

We are still fighting the fleas; right now we're at a Mexican standoff, but we have reinforcements arriving tomorrow.

Finally, in case you were wondering about the name of Donna Hanover's ex-husband, who was part of a scandal during her days at a very young Food Network: Rudy Giuliani.  If I remember correctly, she threw him out of the family abode - Gracie Mansion - and he had to sleep on a friend's couch in the meantime.  I love New York.