More in the life of me...
...and my companions, dear_hubby and our visitor from Dublin.
After the suppressed litany of disasters that was our Friday afternoon, we settled to a local restaurant and had a wonderful meal, very restorative, very compensatory (for some values of compensation...) Jake ordered a local dish, containing little blood-sausages of slightly different sizes (proof of being hand-made, those variances in the process), a slice of apple covered with a red currant sauce. The first taste of the sausage transported him back 40 years, and he reminisced with great heart about how his family would make a similar sausage at home, when his dad still had a farm.
dear_hubby's hands weren't quite up to the job of handling cutlery for anything except getting small pieces of food to his mouth, so he chose a carpaccio of tuna served with salad and couscous, and declared himself satisfied with the taste. He drafted me to cut into bite-sized pieces his apple pie, nearly a struedel in its richness. I "broke down" and had a crown of lamb (what is it about depression and red meat? the sensation of eating it then slots in so much like a key in a lock, I have to wonder if there's a brain chemistry thing involved... now, now girlie, no rationalizing, eh?), which was simply gorgeous, tender, tasty, cooked to perfection, served with baked asperagus (slightly cheesed for a nice crust) and mustard potatoes. A seemingly grown-up dish for the inner child.
There was a restorative rest, and the next morning, I popped off to aikido before Jake was out of bed, and dear_hubby barely so, his hands still not well, but - he reassured me - getting better.
A bunch of the regulars were off to a special course, but we still had a class of about 10 people. The change of teacher made for a series of differences in emphasis and "flavor", but chiefly the class had what was effectively a pop quiz at the end, with yours truely and her partner-of-that-moment called up first. Eeek! but yet, well, good, even if I didn't really take in all the techniques to the level I would have liked before being called on that way. I know some people would insist that one study the same way all the time, but I just don't quite manage to remain in "exam preparation mode" without the warning that there will be, you know, an exam. But I'm not complaining, simply observing this of myself. I appreciated the extra experience, without necessarily having the reality of an exam on my shoulders, of just having to be in front of the rest of the class, first as uke, then as tore, with the added small amusement that I did not hear the teacher tell us to change over - so I headed towards my partner preparing yet another overhand strike (bwa ha ha! aggresso-girl! But, that's because I can trust my partner to counter the blow and lead me into a roll or fall to the mat), he lifts his hands and holds the palms toward me, going, "Hold on! It's your turn now!" in a slightly cartoon-y voice of pleading, and chuckles from everyone sitting on the side. Oh, okay, alright, er... shoot! What was I supposed to be doing again? Ack! Two false starts, before I quite remembered even one technique counter to getting hit with an overhand strike, but despite the apparent performance aspect of it, everyone was very relaxed, so I could, too.
dear_hubby and Jake went to the local market, and enjoyed the Saturday buzz, but didn't buy a lot (dear_hubby was reluctant to take Jake up on his offer to play sherpa, but then, good thing, because Jake's back was beginning to protest ever more early all that walking around). We found a place for lunch, did some "thingies" shopping before returning home and sitting out the rest of a dull and wet afternoon. We arranged our dinner plans - pizza at home - to accomodate the broadcast of Dr. Who - how nice it is, to have the company of someone sharing our little t.v. habits.
In between, dear_hubby sorted a second attempt to get a rental car, so that we could accompany Jake to his chosen Sunday activity - a visit to his brother's grave, in a World War II cemetery. The setting was beautiful, being relatively recently relocated, although still in the process of rennovation. We kept ourselves largely out of Jake's way, after helping him find the plot and place some flowers that he'd bought the day before.
After a short period of quiet recovery, we got back to the car and headed back home, taking a break in what turned out to be a fairly indifferent restaurant (pity, the dish I'd chosen had sounded so promising, too... will have to use the concept as the departure point for something I make in my own kitchen), then heading home for a rest. The afternoon had turned into a brilliantly sunny day, but Jake's not so good in the sun, so he and dear_hubby had our local nearly to themselves, sitting indoors, drinking some of the local brew, which meets with Jake's approval.
End of the day, and dear_hubby is making plans to talk to a doctor again the next morning, as he's not quite in a fit state for work - I can see him trying to use his hands for more things, although he avoids any pincer move with his thumbs and won't put anything across the palm because it's still very tender from the fall. He was a hero and cleaned the cats' boxes yesterday, only asking me to heft the bag of clean litter, to pour into their tray. But he's definitely not carrying even very light items with any comfort, and typing is way not happening, so what good is he going to be in the office? Time for an extension of that sick-note from Thursday's trip to the emergency room.
We ended the day by watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, a steady favorite of all three of us. We struggled through the "Making of..." feature, but mostly because we were getting tired and ready to sleep.
Thanks for stoppin'.
After the suppressed litany of disasters that was our Friday afternoon, we settled to a local restaurant and had a wonderful meal, very restorative, very compensatory (for some values of compensation...) Jake ordered a local dish, containing little blood-sausages of slightly different sizes (proof of being hand-made, those variances in the process), a slice of apple covered with a red currant sauce. The first taste of the sausage transported him back 40 years, and he reminisced with great heart about how his family would make a similar sausage at home, when his dad still had a farm.
dear_hubby's hands weren't quite up to the job of handling cutlery for anything except getting small pieces of food to his mouth, so he chose a carpaccio of tuna served with salad and couscous, and declared himself satisfied with the taste. He drafted me to cut into bite-sized pieces his apple pie, nearly a struedel in its richness. I "broke down" and had a crown of lamb (what is it about depression and red meat? the sensation of eating it then slots in so much like a key in a lock, I have to wonder if there's a brain chemistry thing involved... now, now girlie, no rationalizing, eh?), which was simply gorgeous, tender, tasty, cooked to perfection, served with baked asperagus (slightly cheesed for a nice crust) and mustard potatoes. A seemingly grown-up dish for the inner child.
There was a restorative rest, and the next morning, I popped off to aikido before Jake was out of bed, and dear_hubby barely so, his hands still not well, but - he reassured me - getting better.
A bunch of the regulars were off to a special course, but we still had a class of about 10 people. The change of teacher made for a series of differences in emphasis and "flavor", but chiefly the class had what was effectively a pop quiz at the end, with yours truely and her partner-of-that-moment called up first. Eeek! but yet, well, good, even if I didn't really take in all the techniques to the level I would have liked before being called on that way. I know some people would insist that one study the same way all the time, but I just don't quite manage to remain in "exam preparation mode" without the warning that there will be, you know, an exam. But I'm not complaining, simply observing this of myself. I appreciated the extra experience, without necessarily having the reality of an exam on my shoulders, of just having to be in front of the rest of the class, first as uke, then as tore, with the added small amusement that I did not hear the teacher tell us to change over - so I headed towards my partner preparing yet another overhand strike (bwa ha ha! aggresso-girl! But, that's because I can trust my partner to counter the blow and lead me into a roll or fall to the mat), he lifts his hands and holds the palms toward me, going, "Hold on! It's your turn now!" in a slightly cartoon-y voice of pleading, and chuckles from everyone sitting on the side. Oh, okay, alright, er... shoot! What was I supposed to be doing again? Ack! Two false starts, before I quite remembered even one technique counter to getting hit with an overhand strike, but despite the apparent performance aspect of it, everyone was very relaxed, so I could, too.
dear_hubby and Jake went to the local market, and enjoyed the Saturday buzz, but didn't buy a lot (dear_hubby was reluctant to take Jake up on his offer to play sherpa, but then, good thing, because Jake's back was beginning to protest ever more early all that walking around). We found a place for lunch, did some "thingies" shopping before returning home and sitting out the rest of a dull and wet afternoon. We arranged our dinner plans - pizza at home - to accomodate the broadcast of Dr. Who - how nice it is, to have the company of someone sharing our little t.v. habits.
In between, dear_hubby sorted a second attempt to get a rental car, so that we could accompany Jake to his chosen Sunday activity - a visit to his brother's grave, in a World War II cemetery. The setting was beautiful, being relatively recently relocated, although still in the process of rennovation. We kept ourselves largely out of Jake's way, after helping him find the plot and place some flowers that he'd bought the day before.
After a short period of quiet recovery, we got back to the car and headed back home, taking a break in what turned out to be a fairly indifferent restaurant (pity, the dish I'd chosen had sounded so promising, too... will have to use the concept as the departure point for something I make in my own kitchen), then heading home for a rest. The afternoon had turned into a brilliantly sunny day, but Jake's not so good in the sun, so he and dear_hubby had our local nearly to themselves, sitting indoors, drinking some of the local brew, which meets with Jake's approval.
End of the day, and dear_hubby is making plans to talk to a doctor again the next morning, as he's not quite in a fit state for work - I can see him trying to use his hands for more things, although he avoids any pincer move with his thumbs and won't put anything across the palm because it's still very tender from the fall. He was a hero and cleaned the cats' boxes yesterday, only asking me to heft the bag of clean litter, to pour into their tray. But he's definitely not carrying even very light items with any comfort, and typing is way not happening, so what good is he going to be in the office? Time for an extension of that sick-note from Thursday's trip to the emergency room.
We ended the day by watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, a steady favorite of all three of us. We struggled through the "Making of..." feature, but mostly because we were getting tired and ready to sleep.
Thanks for stoppin'.