In Search of ... What Did I Say?

Before the Dark Times ... Before the Empire.

When is meatloaf not a meatloaf?  When it is an eggplant, of course.

This isn't as strange a question as you might think.  At least not to me.  You see, this is how my brain works these days, badly.  I continue to have problems finding words, and that is very scary.  There was a time I was sharp as a tack when it came to thinking on my feet.  I could spit back statutory cites and big chunks of case law without breaking a sweat; today, all I can do is spit at the bench (and that's all I'm going to say about that, at least for now.)

But what triggered my upset was food, of all things.  Cory had come in after work and a visit to the pool hall, and as usual, he made a plate for himself from the various prepared dishes in the refrigerators.  He stopped in to chat with his dad and me, and I saw that he had a piece of meatloaf on his plate.  What I wanted to ask him was "have you had the meatloaf yet?" but what I said was "have you had the eggplant?"

I looked right at the plate, directly at the meatloaf, and then went on to identify it as eggplant.  I was crushed. And scared; is this part of the forgetfulness and mental confusion that goes with the whole chronic pain gig?  Or is it something far worse?  Stay tuned; this is all new territory for me as well.

Today has been a full and busy day, which means no cooking occurred.  Still, I spent quite a bit of time researching recipes on the net and in my personal cookbook library.  I shopped, defrosted, and pulled apart my pantry and freezer looking for inspiration.  Part of that was sparked by my neighbor, who presented me with green bell peppers from his garden.  Such a sweet gesture, and it made me want to use those peppers for a tasty dish that both of our families could enjoy.

So I've been noodling a recipe for sausage and peppers and maybe sundried tomatoes and herbs and possibly olives in Alfredo sauce, as well as wanting to (finally) finish the chile rellenos with those 3 poblano peppers in my vegetable drawer, and work on egg rolls and dipping sauce.  Check in with me tomorrow, I may have something tasty to report.

The best surprise of the day was a visit from Terry, my friend and former paralegal, who I introduced to James and Linda as "the head on my shoulders, my right hand, and my left hand."  The day our supervisor separated us while rearranging all of the attorney-paralegal assignments was the same day I lost Bethe.  To me, it felt like I had suffered two deaths in the same day, and I have never recovered.  I like my supervisor, as she has been a friend, very kind and accommodating, but I have told her that this is one thing I cannot forgive.

You know the old saying "if it ain't broke, don't fix it?"  Who knows where I would be now if our team had been left intact?  Who knows?