I had all the best intentions this morning: create gluten-free whoopie pies for my little friend Sam, who is not so little anymore.
This sleepy little guy is now in 6th grade. Oh, my goodness.
Have I ever made whoopie pies before? No, but that did not stop me. Harley Chick loaned me a gluten-free cookbook and I ordered one of the ingredients, fancy gluten-free chocolate cake mix, on Amazon. It cost a small fortune, but nothing is too good for Sam’s birthday, right?
I followed the instructions very, very carefully (which I hadn’t done last Sunday while making oatmeal cookies for Banjo Man and they were barely edible, much to his disappointment).
Uh oh. They look a little…thin.
Yes, definitely too thin. These look very, very bad. I have not tasted one yet, as they are still cooling.
Plan B: I hauled out my cupcake pan and switched it up.
And it worked. I just took them out of the oven. The cupcakes aren’t exactly huge, but once I put some frosting on them, they will at least be festive, right?
Tuesday took us up to Providence for a doctor appointment (Banjo Man) and afterwards a birthday lunch for daughter Nancy.
Our favorite Italian restaurant is Andino’s, on Federal Hill. Time to celebrate! We ate our weight in pasta and then the waitress surprised Nancy with a birthday cannoli, which she shared. Yay!
My ravioli.
We had parked a few blocks away, so on the way back to the car we stopped at our favorite Italian bakery for bread and pastry and a pear tart. I love pear tarts more than anything in the world and it has been years since I bought one at Scialo’s, a fixture on the Hill.
Be still my heart.
Another stop was at Venda Ravioli, an Italian grocery store of epic proportions.
Check out the olive section:
Banjo Man bought olive oil.
And then the day turned into a mystery. We crossed the main street, Atwell’s Avenue, and started to walk to the car, parked along a narrow, one-way side street. Banjo Man and Nancy were crossing the street to the car, but I was lagging behind a bit because in the middle of the sidewalk was a thick, black wallet. I stopped, stared and picked it up.
I told the others what I’d found and I took it to the car to see who it belonged to.
Nancy thought it might be an April Fool’s Day trick. I should have thought of that, I said. Too late, though. It wasn’t a bomb or filled with dog poop. It actually looked authentic, packed with credit cards, a bank card, an ID, a medical insurance card and over $400 in cash. There were at least five keys dangling from one side.
The owner was Christopher M., age 70, with white hair and a white beard (according to the photo on the ID). He lived in New York City, so there was no Providence address to deliver the wallet to.
What to do, what to do…
We googled his name to see if we could find a phone number. No luck.
We googled the closest police station. Since we had no idea how to get around the city, heading to the station was a bit intimidating unless we could think of something else to do.
So we waited. Waited for Christopher. Because, I pointed out, if he was a tourist enjoying an Italian lunch, he was eventually going to realize he was missing his wallet and would return the way he came to look for it.
So we sat in the car, windows rolled down, and studied every person that walked past (not that there were many). It was a warmish day, our bellies were full, no one had to go to the bathroom, and we had all the time in the world.
And since we didn’t know what else to do except go to the police, we thought waiting was the best plan.
Half an hour later a tall man in a long black coat walked slowly up the sidewalk. We stared, wondering if this was finally him. He looked older than 70, but there was no mistaking the white hair and beard.
“That’s him! Banjo Man grabbed the wallet and hopped out of the car. “Christopher?”
The man stopped and looked over at us. Clearly baffled as to how we knew his name.
“Have you lost something?” my excited husband asked, holding the wallet as he hurried across the street. The white-haired, bearded man looked shocked and relieved. Banjo Man handed him his wallet and he stared at it in disbelief.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Christopher confessed.
He couldn’t believe we had waited for him, couldn’t believe that everything in his wallet was still there. It turned out he wasn’t a tourist at all, but had had hip surgery recently and was walking for exercise. He admitted he has become forgetful. He tried to give Banjo Man money, but of course he kept refusing. It was quite a scene.
But we had done our good deed for the day. Maybe even for the year. And the three of us joyfully agreed that we love happy endings.
The party continued back at the house, with cupcakes and flowers and gifts. Definitely a birthday our daughter will never forget.
Banjo Man has never suffered from a lack of opinions. He has always had a lot of them. Millions, even.
Sometimes they are welcomed, others greeted with groans, eye rolls and actual hostility. I admit that in our fifty-five years together I have often been in the “hostile” category. One time his very unwelcome opinion resulted in a slammed door and a broken door frame.
He remained undeterred.
So here we are now, battling cancer. I say “we” because dealing with cancer takes both of us. It’s a joint war, whether it’s breast or prostate cancer. Someone drives the other to the scans, tests, procedures, radiation and doctor appointments. It’s how it works. And thank God we have each other.
Banjo Man’s latest opinion was that I should get a second opinion about my latest cancer treatment. I admit, I was having a very, very difficult time with the side effects of the treatment of shots and pills. I could barely walk, couldn’t eat (lost five pounds in a month), couldn’t think, could barely stand. Was this misery going to last for the rest of my life? Angela, our sweet oncologist friend who has taken such good care of us, is taking a break from practicing, but she kept checking on me, was appalled by my condition and urged me to stop. My doctor finally comprehended the severity of my side effects and ordered a 3-week break from treatment before we started up again.
I dreaded it. And Banjo Man kept insisting we needed a second opinion.
Yes, Banjo Man had an opinion about opinions.
So I (I admit, reluctantly, because I was exhausted) made the call to Dana Farber, a famous cancer center in New England. There was a location about an hour and fifteen minutes from home in Massachusetts. They offered second opinion consultations as one of their services, so Monday we were on the road at 6:45 AM to brave rush hour traffic and the interstate to talk to an oncologist.
And because I’d had a break from shots and pills, I was able to walk across the parking lot.
To say it was a good consultation would be a grand understatement. She suggested a different treatment plan (because my cancer had been caught early and hadn’t spread yet). When the time came to start shots and pills again, it would be done very gradually and with great supervision.
Did we love this new oncologist’s opinions? We sure did. Did we switch my care to Dana Farber? We sure did. Have I thanked Banjo Man a hundred times for his insistence on getting another opinion? I sure have.
I am tolerating the new medication well and will be tracked with blood tests and PET scans every 6-8 weeks.
So…keep your fingers crossed for me.
And if you are questioning your health care and losing faith in your treatments, get a second opinion. Even if Banjo Man doesn’t tell you to.
This impressive St. Patrick character spend Saturday roaming the main street of Wickford (RI) entertaining the people enjoying a warmish, dry day in a beautiful colonial town on the water.
Isn’t he gorgeous?
And I was out and about, too, enjoying an afternoon with my friend Ruth. She had been waiting patiently all winter for my strength and energy to return so we could check out a small fabric store and have lunch.
This was the first time in four months that I had driven myself to lunch and shopping. The last time had begun with a CT scan and I would find out later that day that my cancer had returned.
Ruth and I had a very good time! I bought a spool of thread, having resisted all Fabric Temptation.
So to all you Irishmen and women reading this, I wish you a Happy St. Patrick’s Day. May you enjoy corned beef and cabbage, soda bread and green beer. It’s a happening!
While I’m 28% Irish (thank you, DNA test), I’ll just be hanging out here at home with Banjo Man. The rain keeps pouring down and the coffee tastes great.
These are flower-head pins. They are flat, long and sharp. I use them a lot while piecing or pinning blocks onto the design wall.
These are glass-head sewing pins. Unlike plastic heads, they don’t melt if you accidentally iron over them.
And here are the all important curved quilting pins, of which I never have enough. They are for basting quilts and I use A LOT of them.
For example:
I ran out of pins about ten days ago and had to stop basting one quilt in order to machine quilt an older project that was folded up in my closet so I could have those pins back. Then I ordered more on Amazon so I would never run out again.
And then a few days later I found a container of brand new basting pins (150 of them!) that I had bought last fall.
Sigh.
But now I never will run out of pins. Ever.
I’ve been working on projects that require a lot of energy now that I have much of mine back. New treatments won’t start for another ten days, so I have time to baste quilts, sew binding strips, iron and cut lots of fabric into squares, etc. for future quilts that can be worked on while I am low on energy and sitting down. I have two huge hand-stitching projects for couch time and hope to have three by the end of this month.
It is so good to feel better.
Banjo Man is still doing all the cooking as he continues to be inspired by the random You Tube videos that pop up on his phone. Friday he made a “chunky monkey” frozen dessert that was really good. Tonight he is doing something with cauliflower “steaks” and pesto. I haven’t cooked in months, so I am grateful that he has taken over the kitchen.
It has been quite a while since I have blogged here. More about that later…
We have been trapped by mud in one spot in our gravel driveway. The ground is thawing and lots and lots of mud has appeared, especially in a place near a large boulder that couldn’t be removed when we had the driveway redone a couple of years ago.
Our neighbor came over Saturday and worked on the problem. He brought gravel. On Sunday he brought more gravel. Tomorrow? More gravel. We are grateful.
My friend Harley Chick got stuck in the mud Wednesday while bringing me home from a lovely visit with “Aunt Pat” in Massachusetts. We talked and laughed and ate lunch and fixed an I-pad and commiserated over weather and winter.
Fortunately Harley Chick was able to put her car in reverse, gun it, and get out.
We can actually get out now, as long as we step on the gas. There is an amazing amount of gravel to get through, but it’s not mud!
I’m happy to stay in the house.
As to why I’ve been silent, it’s because I’ve been absolutely exhausted. I’m not sure “exhausted” is a strong enough word to describe how I felt during weeks of cancer-blocking treatments that started in early January. November and December scans (three of them, plus a biopsy) showed that my breast cancer from 2019 had spread to lymph nodes in my chest.
Banjo Man and I were devastated but hopeful that powerful new medications could halt/shrink/contain the cancer.
Unfortunately those medications–pills and shots–made me very, very sick. I was to stay on this cancer-blocking treatment plan for at least two years, then move to something else. Was this how I wanted to live my life? No. What was the point?
I am now taking a break from everything (doctor’s orders) and getting my strength and energy back. It’s a long process to feel better, but it’s happening. Later this month we will start up treatments again, only this time we’ll take it slowly to see how much I can tolerate. January’s “let’s hit it hard with everything we’ve got” plan was just too much. I could barely get out of bed and I could eat very little.
Banjo Man saved the day with fruit popsicles. We are now addicted.
There is another PET scan scheduled for March 14th. A meeting to discuss if radiation is an option. Perhaps a second opinion in Boston. A return to treatments. March is going to be busy.
In the meantime we’re enjoying our evenings streaming tv shows and movies. We splurged on a new walk-in shower and we love it. Last night we actually went out to dinner! We’re looking forward to returning to the lake in May, stopping in Texas on the way. The Funny Grandson has a band concert and we want to be there.
I am sewing again, as of this week. A very brown quilt is on the design wall. Not my favorite creation, but it’s intended for the lake house and I designed it to be masculine.
Will I finish it before we leave in May? I have no idea, but I will try!
Today the sun is shining. It’s a cold day, but Banjo Man and I are about to bundle up and go look at the gravel. I hope to do a lap or two around the driveway and then hustle back inside to add borders to the quilt and make a backing for it.
What could be better on a sunny winter Saturday than a trip to Home Depot?
Okay, lots of things. I get it. But in my little world of battling medical side effects, having the energy–however limited–to walk through Home Depot is a BIG DEAL.
Daughter Nancy took me to shop for a new toilet seat. Hey, my bathroom needs a facelift! What could be easier than installing a shiny new seat?
There was a huge wall of toilet seats, but we found one we thought would fit. I admit I haven’t installed it yet.
Check this out:
Impressive, though seven billiard balls sounds excessive. And frightening.
On the way to the plumbing aisle I saw my future new fridge:
A girl can dream.
I also resisted buying a new mop. Thank God I came to my senses and kept walking.
In order to cover up my ugly old 35-year old vinyl floor, I bought a rug from Wayfair. Check out all of the colors:
I bought two coral bath towels to go with it. Lots of color is needed right now, as you can see from the view from my office window:
Our new snowplow driver couldn’t plow us out after Sunday morning’s storm because his plow broke. Alas, we are dealing with 5″ of snow, but the Highlander doesn’t have any trouble making its way through and tamping it down. More snow, rain and cold temps are ahead of us this weekend, but we have no plans except to talk about Spring and watch Season 2 of DARK WINDS.
Winter = evenings on the couch. I would like to say we are reading thick, educational nonfiction tomes, learning how to speak Italian, washing the mini blinds and dusting bookshelves, but…we’re not.
Instead we are glued to all sorts of wonderful new shows.
Meet DCI Ellis. You can watch this new show on Acorn.
How about a new season of “Death in Paradise”, on Britbox? We have a new police inspector, played by one of my favorite British actors, Don Gilet.
It’s a light, comedic mystery show in its 14th season, using the “fish out of water” premise for police inspectors assigned to an island in the Bahamas.
I just discovered “Dagliesh” when Season 3 dropped earlier this month. It’s fabulous and what great characters! Dagliesh is a police detective and a poet in the 1970’s who is grieving the loss of his child and wife. Also on Acorn.
[I’ve tried nine times and cannot insert an image of Dagliesh here]
And then another favorite, PROTECTION on Britbox.
From Imdb: Follows a witness protection officer who finds herself at the center of a breach; compromised by an extramarital romance with a coworker; but resolute in her resolve to fight back and unearth the real cause of corruption within her unit.
We’re in the middle of season 1 of DARK WINDS on Amazon.
From Wikipedia: Dark Winds is an American psychological thriller television series created by Graham Roland. Based on the Leaphorn & Chee novel series by Tony Hillerman, it stars Zahn McClarnon and Kiowa Gordon as the aforementioned two characters, leading a mostly Native American cast.
You will remember Zahn McClarnon from “Longmire”. He’s such a great actor and this series has us completely sucked in. What’s going to happen next? No clue!
I’m talking about January. Christmas was a month ago. A month.
What have we been doing during these cold winter weeks? Well, Banjo Man has been holed up in his office, working intensely to analyze the world’s economy and predict the future.
It sounds exhausting.
I, on the other hand, am accomplishing very little. I have cleaned out no shelves or plastic containers, have made no trips to donate unwanted possessions or clothes, have cut no fabric for future quilt projects. I am not cooking or baking or playing scales on my violin.
It feels like I’m on vacation, but I’m actually dealing with a range of side effects from my new cancer-blocking medications. And while I have ultimate respect and love for the scientists who invent new ways to defeat this disease, and I am eternally grateful for the three little pills I take every day, I am having a very hard time adjusting to the slower pace of life that comes with the new treatments.
I stare at fabric a lot while I’m sitting in my office chair and drinking coffee. Yesterday I even selected fabrics for two future quilts (the blue fabrics you see didn’t make the cut because I decided not to make that quilt). This morning I will take another look at those ideas to see if I still like them.
Progress? I like to think so.
So what are you doing–or not doing–during these cold winter days?
When we were in New Orleans we took a cooking class at the New Orleans School of Cooking. We watched gumbo being assembled while a pot of red beans simmered on a nearby stove burner. Banjo Man loves red beans and has tried many times to make them successfully.
There have been ups and downs.
Last week I took the recipe from the class and attempted to make something that would impress my husband (who was coughing and deaf). I even ordered the Camelia-brand red kidney beans from Amazon.
How did it go? Well, they looked good bubbling beautifully in the pot. But when I tasted them they were way too salty. WAY too salty. Where had I gone wrong?
I used “Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning” instead of “Joe’s Stuff Seasoning”. Not a good decision.
So…what to do…
I added more water, more chicken broth.
I splashed in lime juice, then lemon juice.
Then I tried adding slurries of corn starch and water.
Tablespoons of sugar.
More water.
After all this, my beans were barely semi-edible and served over white rice they were okay. Sort of.
The next day I put them back on the stove with slices of raw potato and more liquid. That helped and we ate red beans and rice for two more days.
I will share the recipe once I’ve figured out the proper seasoning. More research is required and maybe another Amazon order, this time of “Joe’s Stuff”.
is there any more pie? 