Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.
Contact me at yetanotherjournal (at) mindspring (dot) com
. . . . .
. . . . .
» Saturday, November 04, 2017Stuffed in More Ways Than One
Another warm day. Will this madness never end? I wore my "kimono" (as WallyWorld calls it) to walk the dog and by the time we left for the Farmer's Market ten minutes later, it was too hot for it. [Later: It went up to 80℉ today. In November! Pathetic!]
We got up at eight, which was one hour too early for me. Even though I had some oatmeal before we left, I was lightheaded by the time we got done. In the meantime, we were able to get a parking space at the main parking area on Powder Springs Road due to a well-timed departure. The place was jammed due to a Heart Walk and 5K run. We didn't buy much, just dog biscuits and goat cheese (Capra Gia finally had all-onion and chive cheese balls again). We had heard there were fresh apple dealers there, but one had Granny Smiths that tasted funny (as if they were part Delicious, which they ain't) and the other had no Granny Smiths at all. So no apples for us. I did buy some Zesty Italian pretzels at The Local Exchange.
Came home, finished breakfast with an eggnog and three ibuprofin (and a handful of pretzels, of course), and finally felt better, so we went out to do errands about 11:30. First stop was Costco for gasoline, as the little light had come on in the truck. Then I ran into Barnes & Noble to pick up the book I wanted last night (Tru & Nelle, based on Harper Lee's friendship with Truman Capote), and then we did a circuit around Bed, Bath & Beyond with a coupon. James picked up a 360 degree cutter.
We were going to try to stop at Costco itself, but, as always on Saturday afternoon, space was at a premium. We just went home. My nose was stuffed again and I felt miserable. Used some saline, had a mortadella sandwich for lunch, and finally took a nap a half hour before we needed to get ready to leave for Betty Bouler's 70th birthday dinner. Since we weren't taking the chair, we took the car.
Dinner was at Top Spice, a Thai place we hadn't been to previously, and it was delicious. James got something spicy with pork, but I had Lad-Na (wide noodles in a tasty brown sauce) with pork, and it was heavenly and filling, and I have half left for a lunch for next week. Lin brought us our eclipse t-shirts which we had ordered back in August, which was nice (I never saw the design; they are gorgeous!). Betty was totally surprised when her brother, who lives in a tiny town in Mississippi just over the border from Memphis, Tennessee, showed up for the dinner! She said she did not have the books I bought her, which was a relief, as she reads a lot since she retired.
The only bad thing that happened was due to the stupid stuffy nose again. The Lad-Na came out very hot, which stimulated the stupid post-nasal drip. So at one point when I stopped to take one of my periodic sips of water, it combined with the mucus and I went to take a deep breath—and couldn't draw in a breath. Tried it again with a big gasp and felt like I was choking. Normally would have just breathed through my nose until it passed, but that was clogged. Of course my eyes were wide open trying to freaking breathe and I could see that every single eye in the restaurant was on me, which was embarrassing. You could almost see them thinking "Am I going to have to jump up to do a Heimlich on this woman?" And then the surface tension broke across my windpipe and I could gasp out, "It's just water!" and everyone relaxed. Good grief.
Two maniac drivers trying to kill us just to beat us to the red light and a stop at Publix—James needed Swiss cheese; it's the lowest sodium cheese he can find—and we were home. Nothing good on but Britcoms, and then the Cooking Channel because Alton Brown, of course.
And now I've turned back all twelve clocks (we need one more so it's a James Thurber reference) and five timers and what it's time for is bed. That fat bitch DST is gone until March.
(Good God! To get some medical records James has to fax them to the hospital! Did I just turn back the clocks to 1980? Who faxes anything anymore?)