A few years back, a couple of Portillo’s restaurants opened up in the east valley of the Phoenix metro area — one near Salt River Field (spring training home of the Colorado Rockies and the Arizona Diamondbacks) and one near Sloan Park (spring training home of the Chicago Cubs). As far as I can tell, both Chicago-based restaurants are thriving. Their success is no surprise to this blogger because Portillo’s Italian beef sandwiches are delicious and their onion rings are good enough to warrant a drive across town. Perhaps most important, it seems to me that Mesa is where Illinois comes to retire. Hence, no learning curve needed.

A few months ago, another Chicago icon — perhaps the Icon to define all Icons — made its way to the Sonoran desert. The neon lights of the area’s first White Castle were turned on, and the endless line of traffic into the restaurant, and perhaps even more important, the drive-thru, began to form. Twenty-four hours of nonstop binge-eating commenced……

Bill was very excited to hear the news. Being a Chicago native, he has eaten his share of White Castle sliders. Seven or eight at a time, as is typical. They’re small, after all, and just about the only place open at 3 o’clock in the morning after a night on the town.

The first time I met Bill’s mom and dad was on a visit at Thanksgiving. Not only did I meet his parents, but I also was introduced to White Castle hamburgers. Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t going to be served until early evening, and the McLain consensus, including his mother, was that a few White Castle sliders around lunchtime would tide us over.

Kris, meet White Castle. I eagerly took my first bite. I found myself uncharacteristically speechless. While those around me were eagerly chowing down the tiny sandwiches, I was dumbfounded. I felt like Cindy Lou Who when she spotted the Grinch stealing Christmas and asked “Why, Santa Claus, why?” As I watched them eat the soggy, tasteless food item (I didn’t know what to call it, but hamburger was not one of my choices), I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying, “Why, McLain family, why?”

They had no flavor. None.

Finally, yesterday morning, I gave in to Bill’s excited and frequent requests that we eat lunch at the new White Castle……

We drove the nearly-30 minutes to the restaurant, stood in line for another 20 minutes, ordered our shareable pack of original sliders, and waited another 20 minutes for our order. We sat down to eat. Bill finished one sandwich in a couple of bites, and reached for a second. He ate the second sandwich much slower. I think I heard him sigh. About a bite into his third, he looked at me with sad eyes and said, “These are really bad, aren’t they?”

I of course had figured that out after my first bite. I might as well have been standing at the kitchen counter in Chicago some 30 years ago trying to swallow my very first White Castle hamburger.

“Yes,” I told him, “they really are.”

We brought the rest home for Austin and Lilly who have enough Chicago blood in them from their father’s side to love them.

“They just didn’t taste good,” Bill said to me as we drove home. “The buns were…..” And he stopped. Then he said (direct quote, hand to God), “…..I just can’t talk about it. It’s too sad.”

After literally months of anticipation, Jen spent yesterday NOT having her knee replaced. Did she chicken out? Heck no. Gloors don’t fear painful surgery. Bring it on! Did the replacement knee providers run out of spare knees? Nope. That wasn’t the issue. Knees to spare. Did the doctor decide he was just okay like in the commercials? No, he seemed willing and ready to go.

The problem was that Jen caught a virus on the plane ride from Denver to Phoenix on Christmas Day. I know. I know. Christmas was a long time ago — over two weeks in fact — but this was a virus she just couldn’t shake. She visited urgent care and was diagnosed with a sinus infection. She took Mucinex and Alka Selzer Cold and Flu and her antibiotic and drank tons of water and green tea to no avail.

She saw the doctor on Wednesday, and he told her to keep doing what she was doing. She was to give him a call on Sunday and tell him HONESTLY whether or not she felt better. They will not do surgery on someone with an infection because apparently infection attracts infection, and that’s a bad thing when you are having surgery. If she couldn’t have surgery, she would have to wait for at least two more weeks. Blah.

Sunday morning, Jen felt just as bad as she had felt for the past two weeks, except crabbier (it’s not easy having nonstop coughing and sinus pain for days on end) and more dejected. So she dialed the phone number the doctor had given her to report that she was no better. Except he didn’t answer his phone, and there was no way to leave a message.

Whaaaat?

She tried several more times throughout the day, but it was no use. She couldn’t reach him. He was going to show up at the hospital the next day, washed up with scalpel in hand, and she would be a no-show.

But in that way that God has of taking care of us, Jen’s daughter Maggie remembered that a friend of hers was acquainted with the doctor’s wife. Maggie didn’t hesitate for a moment to call in the Big Guns. The friend called the wife, and a short while later, the doctor sheepishly returned Jen’s call. He may operate the scalpel, but his wife runs the family, just as in most cases.

But here is the real surprise: After all of this, the doctor casually mentioned to Jen that she shouldn’t worry about waiting two weeks because he could also do the knee replacement AS OUTPATIENT SURGERY whenever she is feeling better.

Two reactions. 1) You didn’t think to tell me that in an earlier conversation? and 2) YOU CAN DO KNEE REPLACEMENT SURGERY AS AN OUTPATIENT?

Wow. Just wow.

So, our hope is that Jen gets better day-by-day, and surgery — either outpatient or in the hospital — will transpire very soon. If not, she has the doctor’s home number!

As for Jen’s grands, they look at the bright side. Grammie will be here longer than she thought! “Are you going to live here forever?” Lilly asked her.

No, it only seems like it.

Maggie and Lilly came over for dinner Thursday night while Austin was at baseball practice with Coach Daddy. I grilled burgers, though I did so under light sprinkles. As part of my condiments, I offered some of my homemade dill pickles. Five-year-old Lilly took a bite…..

…..and said, “Aunt Kris, you make a mean pickle!”

Have a great weekend!

Tick Tock
As of the time I wrote this blog post, Jen is still scheduled to have knee replacement surgery on Monday at an as-of-yet-unknown time. This surgeon is keeping us all guessing. Apparently we will know when we see the lights of his eyes and the glint of his surgical tools. Despite the fact that she has been fighting a cold, she has a very positive spirit. Between her daughter and her two sisters, we will take good care of her. She is her mother and father’s daughter, so she will come through like a trooper and nothing will slow her down.

Surprised
Last night, Jen and I were sitting outside having a glass of wine and waiting for our lemon chicken to finish baking. The evening was gorgeous with the sun setting in the west and the moon coming up in the east. Suddenly, we heard a ruckus. Mark had stopped by with Austin and Lilly to surprise Jen. After they left, I said, “There is nothing like a surprise visit from your grandkids, huh?” She responded, “That’s the first time that’s ever happened. It was awesome.” Since I get frequent visits from my grandkids, I know I’m blessed…..

Cookie Time
I was excited to read that it’s nearing Girl Scout Cookie season. I’m down to only one granddaughter selling cookies. I texted Mylee this morning and asked her if she was selling cookies yet. She responded quickly, telling me not yet. I told her to save me some of the new lemon cookies that are being offered this year, and she promised she would. I don’t know what will happen when she is no longer a Girl Scout. I guess I will no longer be able to blast by those little girls selling in front of the grocery store…..

Oh, the Weather Outside is Lovely
We’ve had some really glorious days this past week or so. Highs nearing 70 with lots of sunshine. In fact, last night, I was about to turn on the fan in our room, but was too lazy to get out of bed. It’s supposed to turn a bit cooler next week with slight chances of rain. Despite the 70 degree temps, Lilly wore her Ugg boots yesterday. Those little desert children wouldn’t survive Colorado temperatures at their lowest.

Ciao!

I can remember the day my baby brother was born like it was yesterday. December 28, 1959, was a clear, icy cold day. I could see my breath in the early morning air, clutching my dad’s hand tightly as we walked across the parking lot of St. Mary’s Hospital in Columbus, NE. I remember being excited to meet…..

….Oh, that’s all a bunch of baloney. I don’t remember a single thing about his birth. Heck, I had just celebrated my 6th birthday a few weeks earlier, and was probably at my grandma’s house playing with my new Tiny Tears doll that Santa had brought me for Christmas, clutching the two quarters Grammie gave me to go to the bar next to the bakery to buy a strawberry Nehi. Beckie was likely downstairs working in the bakery, and Jen was somewhere trying to decide what she could do next to drive me out of my mind.

It’s one thing to grow older yourself. I turned 66 years old in December. But my baby brother is always the baby. Believe me, I don’t think 60 years old is old any more. Back when I was 6 years old, I thought 25 was ancient. Now I’m looking at 80-year-olds and thinking, hey! I can do that. 

His sisters spent considerable time trying to decide just how to celebrate a milestone birthday with a man who isn’t really INTO celebrations. After considering this and then that and then the other, we finally decided it would be fun to go out to dinner. Just the four of us without spouses. An opportunity to reminisce, laugh, and do what we all like most to do: EAT.

Where do you want to go? I asked him. Anywhere you want, as long as it isn’t somewhere you go all of the time. We thought he might choose a steak house. After giving it considerable thought, he decided on an Italian restaurant way up in Scottsdale that he had visited before. I love a good surprise.

We had a bit of trouble nailing down a date and time, but we finally successfully gathered Sunday for a late lunch/early dinner at a restaurant called Tomaso’s Italian Kitchen. We took Lyft so that we could eat and drink with abandon, and, as often happens when we get together, had a good laugh, this time about our driver. He was in an unfortunate state, lacking teeth, having a good days worth of stubble (and not in a hip way), and perhaps with a beer or two under his belt. We made it safely, and our Uber  driver on the way home was much better — actually entirely sober. Imagine!

We enjoyed our celebration very much……

Some 59 years ago…..

Sunday…..

I wonder why we wait for landmark birthdays to get together……

For reasons unknown (but probably having to do with being 66 years old), I have had a difficult time remembering what day of the week it is. I’m optimistic that now that’s it’s Monday, I’m going to be able to keep track of what day it is. Today is Monday, tomorrow is Tuesday, the next day is Wednesday, and so on.

We are beginning to get into a routine. When I say we, I mean Bill, Jen, and me. For the first time since we bought this house together in 2010, the three of us are going to be living together for a full two months. It’s a small house, ladies and gentlemen, so keep us in our prayers.

The reason Jen is staying is that she will be having knee replacement surgery a week from today. It made sense for her to have the surgery here because we live in a ranch-style house with no basement, and there are many, many people to be care partners for her. Between her daughter Maggie, Beckie, Bill, and me, she will be watched like a hawk.

While we await her surgery, we are getting used to living with one another. She  brought her dog Winston because two months was a bit long to leave him at home with a bowl of water and the window cracked. He has been no problem thus far, but you can see him looking at Jen and thinking isn’t it time to go home now? For Bill and me, our biggest concern is that we don’t trip over him given that we aren’t used to a dog and he’s very small. So far, so good…..

Our weather when we first got here was not very good. I felt bad about that because we brought Addie with us, and she was looking to go back to school with a suntan. She gave it her all. She literally wore nothing but shorts and short-sleeved shirts the entire five days, despite the fact that the temperature hovered around 50 degrees. Maggie told her that everyone would know she was a visitor because all of the Phoenicians were wearing parkas and Uggs. Brrr. She shrugged it off and dressed like she was on the beach in Mexico (which is probably where she wished she was).

The thing is, for the past four or five days, the weather has been beautiful — 68 degrees and full-out sunny. I texted her the other day and told her about our weather. She responded: Shucks.

This week our focus will be on stocking our larder, trying not to eat out every meal, getting back into regular exercise, and getting Jen mentally and physically ready to face surgery and the subsequent recovery.

As for me, I appear to be fully recovered from both bowel obstruction and shingles. We are all ready to face the adventures ahead.

To celebrate, his sisters took our brother Dave out for dinner to celebrate his 60th birthday. Yes, friends, it’s true. My baby brother is now 60. What’s next?…..