I thought today I would write a snapshot, as it were, of my Friday, partly because the ‘Smoke Detector’ post was from this morning (albeit 3:37 in the morning, but still…) and partly because I’m not feeling introspective tonight.
I’m feeling a little nauseous. I’m not certain that’s chemotherapy though. I am experiencing an odd side effect lately. I get really really hungry all at once. Immediately. Like ‘put my hand in the microwave and eat it partly cooked’ hungry. No. Not true. The ‘I can’t wait to heat something UP! What am I some prima fuckin’ donna!? Give me that jar of pickled beets and stand back!’
It’s not a snack to rush at. Dawn and Liza were horrified to find me standing in front of the fridge with a little tiny cocktail fork, a jar, beet juice all over my face and a nice wedge of blue cheese balanced on the tip of a huge toasting fork. It would be 3 extra steps to get a plate, knife and real forks. The beet juice made me look like The Walking Dead had gotten me. Instead of apologizing and stepping away from the fridge, especially given the LOOK on their faces (priceless, really) I asked where the olive bread was. And the butter.
“Did we eat all that? Is there any left? I KNOW dinner is almost ready. This is an appetizer, you animals. It’s a new trend I’m working on. Fridge surfing. I’m going to start a couple restaurants, small at first. My customers will stand in front of the fridge, with maybe a tall bar style table beside it, and just eat out of jars and covered plates of ‘leftovers’. With a toasting fork.”
Did I mention that Dawn had come over specifically to make me a favorite dish? Seafood fettuccine? Garlic bread, the kind with big chunks of purple garlic and butter and parsley on beautiful, dense, chewy Italian bread? Wild greens with local goat cheese and toasted almonds? A lovely meal was minutes from being served. I think we were just waiting on the bread. The LOOK on her face…she dragged me to the table and started piling pasta on my plate, murmuring ‘ oh my darling…eat this, somebody hand me the Parmesan, there we are, have some extra, no dear that’s my finger.’
It was like Die Hard, the movie. Something just said ‘Yippee Ki Yay, motherfuckah! Lets EAT!’ And so we ate.
Fortunately my sister is strict about what is in this house. I understand now. I think she read about this possibly happening. There is nothing junk-food like here. No cookies, no sugar, no chips, nothing ‘fast’. Pickles, cheese, bread, vegetables, piles of Bosc and Anjou pears, apples and leftover whatever we had the night before. So the frustration level can be high when one wants to eat-and I mean now. It sounds so good to list all that healthy food but god damn it I want cookies. I want to take a box and double shove handfuls in my face. I want to unwrap american cheese and roll it around a slice of ham. Not make a sandwich.
Here’s my version of a sandwich.
Take a baguette. Tear it open. Put the block of cheese in it and throw it on the floor and stomp it flat until it will fit in my mouth. No. That takes too long.
Yesterday I was discovered making a ‘quick snack’. Thin slice of butter. Eat that. Tear off wedge of bread. With my teeth. Another slice of butter. Another bite of bread. I found the butter was too hard to spread straight from the fridge.
The Borscht Incident is a perfect example of my delicate eating habits lately. A couple days ago Liza made big pot of wonderful beet and cabbage borscht. BIG pot.
I ate it.
The whole pot-well, I think she set some aside for Mom and I somehow missed that container in the fridge. So Mom got some. By mistake. Liza made the soup. Left it on the stove and when I was done with the whole gallon of soup-1/2 of which I drank cold and it was DELICIOUS!-I washed the pot, put it away and went to bed. Poor Liza. She looked and looked for that soup the next day so she could give me lunch. I saw her looking at the clean, empty pot in the cupboard and glancing at me and thinking ‘Nah! She COULDN’T have. Could she?’
Today was chemotherapy, and I think Liza had this vision of being trapped in Mom’s Eurovan on the ferry and I have a ‘Yippee Ki Yay’ moment. So she packed English muffins with eggs and cheese and green onion and parsley. And carrot sticks. Blue cheese. Green tea. Some nice provolone sandwiches with tomatoes. Cookies. I’m not joking. For a 1/2 hour ferry ride and maybe 15 minutes on the freeway. Maybe another 10 to park. An hour? She had a tote bag as if she were living out The Life of Pi. I ate the egg muffins. Saved the sandwiches for the trip back. And the carrot sticks for the ferry.
The hospital has really good food. Today I had Thai Basil Stir Fry with grilled Tofu. Cilantro rice, steamed broccoli. Tea. Very yummy. Last week I had Lemongrass Marinated Pork Steak with coconut milk. Also good? The Rainier Sandwich with goat cheese, tomatoes, fresh basil, garlic pesto and roasted red peppers on fresh focaccia bread. I added marinated artichokes. I love looking at their menu! Should I have the fresh grilled NW Salmon with cranberry vinaigrette? Or the Mediterranean Pacific cod? Beef tenderloin tips or the chopped salad. Crazy ass hospital food.
You really have to love a hospital that realizes food is an important part of healing. No mystery meat, canned gravy, frozen fish and vegetables. This is the Pacific NW! Where ALL the food a better than it has to be.
No Yippee Ki Yaying. (so far)
No, I don’t trouble myself about my weird food obsession. I am just going with it. If it feels right to eat, eat. Weight gain or loss is a non issue right now. I’m maintaining and that’s great.
I just wish I could come up with a great name for my restaurant.