Oh, For the Love of All That Is Good

We arrived back in AZ Tuesday last, a week ago. What with not having what Bill has taken to calling the jamulator (meaning the cannula inserter which absence resulted in him having to jam needles into his legs by hand) and me promptly getting a cold, it hasn’t been exactly a relaxing experience.

Still, when I heard that snow was falling on the cities of Colorado’s front range, I will admit to sighing a bit in relief that we didn’t have to shovel said snow. That task was left for Maggie Faith, who has agreed to be responsible for snow removal in our absence. I assure you she will be duly compensated. Despite her small stature, she is strong. As stated by Shakespeare: though she be but little, she is fierce…..

Back to my cold, which I’m sure you’re all waiting with baited breath about which to be enlightened. I get one cold a year or so. While a cold will knock Bill off his feet, I’m generally liable to not let a little bit of snot stop me. Oh, for the love of all that is good, it’s just a cold, I will say.

Except this one has been the Cold From Hell. Perhaps God is providing a bit of lesson on humility, reminding me that anytime my sentence starts with Oh, for the love of all that is good, I should stop right there. The last time I had a cold this bad was just before, during, and following my 50th birthday. That was 15 years ago, my friends. I caught that particular cold on an airplane upon which we were returning from a Thanksgiving trip to London and my seat was directly in front of a man with a cold who coughed and sneezed on me for eight hours. No hard feelings, Mister. Not much you can do when you’re stuck in a tin can with a cold.

That year my family gave me a birthday party featuring a turducken. I was sick as hell. Included with my dreadful cold was a delightful case of pink eye. We took this photo of my sibs and my dad and me, and you might notice that my left eye is practically fully closed…..

You might also notice that it’s the bluest photo I’ve ever seen. There’s so much denim that it looks like it’s 1995 and we’re all getting ready to go to a Britney Spears concert. (Except they wouldn’t have let me in with my pink eye. Even my family shoved me to the back of the couch.)

At any rate, my cold has finally improved, and I’m going to make it even better because as I write this post on Monday, I am preparing to leave to meet my sisters at Pho Chandler which serves up some of the best hot noodles and spicy broth you’ve ever tasted…..

 

Take that, Cold!

Thursday Thoughts

Cookie Time
Every year about this time, I begin seeing signs of the start of Girl Scout Cookie season. Cute little girls hawking their wares in front of the grocery store. What does that mean for me? It means that given the fact that I have not one but two granddaughters who are Girl Scouts, very soon my freezer will be full of cookies. See last year…..

girl-scout-cookies

Kaiya’s sales pitch is very fancy, with her own cookie store web site (click here for cookies). I, of course, ordered four boxes of cookies from her web site. And then I emailed Jll and asked her if Maggie Faith had a Girl Scout cookie web site. “Nope,” Jll admitted, “but you can buy cookies by telling me and we will make sure you get them!” Old school, but effective. So very soon my freezer will look exactly like the photo from last year. I like many of the cookies, but I will tell you that the Savannah Smiles are totally addicting. Bet you can’t eat just one. Or at least I can’t.

Pink Nightmare
This past weekend I did some baking for my sister’s birthday. I realized it was the first time I’d baked since we arrived in AZ. I knew this because I had to drag my beloved Kitchen Aid mixer out of the garage. And, as usual, I had a start when I unwrapped it and saw the bright Pepto Bismol pink mixer. It works fine, and since I bought it off of Craig’s List, I didn’t have much choice about color. But the pink is quite pink. Paraphrasing Ralphie’s dad in A Christmas Story: “It looks like a pink nightmare.” The photo doesn’t do its pinkness justice….

pink-kitchenade-2

Lemon Tree Very Pretty and the Lemon Flower is Sweet
January and February are the beginning of citrus season here in the Valley of the Sun. So at church last Sunday, a number of people had dropped off bags of lemons – the citrus fruit currently being harvested. The church allows them to bring the fruit and invites other parishioners to take them home.  And I did so happily. So this week we’ve had lemon shrimp, many Caesar salads, and Barefoot Contessa’s lemon chicken. I love lemons, and these are so juicy and delicious. I will get more next Sunday if I can, because, well, I can…..

lemons

Tiiiiiiiiimberrrrrrr
My niece Maggie and I were at lunch yesterday, and as usual, Lilly joined us with her bag of McDonald’s Happy Meal. She was very proud of her little make-up compact that was the giveaway that day. And she kept herself quite content playing with it. Maggie and I were enjoying our bowls of soup, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lilly lean back and put her legs on the table. I promise you, she didn’t know what was going to happen, but the next thing we all knew, the entire table tipped over, causing a loud crash as bowls and condiments hit the floor. Just like in the movies, the restaurant went completely quiet. As for Lilly, she was sitting back staring down at the floor with big, sad eyes. In true Gloor fashion, Maggie and I both had grabbed our bowls, thereby preventing them from falling to the ground. Save the food first. At the same time, one or both of us prevented the table from falling completely to the ground. At the end of the day, only a couple of little glass condiment holders broke, though there was a heck of a lot of water and spilled soup on the ground and many, many chopsticks. The server (who I believe is the owner) couldn’t have been nicer, and needless to say, he got a generous tip. Maggie’s pretty darn sure he won’t be eagerly awaiting our return.  And, by the way, Lilly told him, “Sowwy.”

 

Lilly, NOT knocking over a table of pho.

Lilly, NOT knocking over a table of pho.

Ciao!