Marty and I miss many of our favorite foods because of our gluten-free diet. One of those things is a soft pretzel, the kind you get from a pretzel vendor on the streets of NYC. I’ve never been a fan of the ones at the mall; they taste too fancy.
It’s been a long time since we have eaten soft pretzels. We found pretzel nuggets once at a GF bakery called Against the Grain. We dream about soft pretzels. When I worked at a hotdog pushcart in Manchester, VT, I had to make pretzels for customers, which was torture.
In the last couple of months, members of a gluten-free group on Facebook called Guten-free Albany have been posting photos of soft pretzels they are making with Trader Joe’s GF raw pizza dough. The pretzels look amazing. We knew we needed to make some. Stat.
On Thursday, when Marty was out making deliveries in NY, he stopped at Trader Joe’s, as I mentioned in a previous post. When I saw the pizza dough, I knew he would make pretzels! I was still too sick on Thursday to even help. Not too sick to eat them, though.
1 Trader Joe’s pre-made gf pizza dough 5 cups Water 1/3 cup baking soda 2 tbsp melted butter Coarse salt
Directions
Preheat oven to 450. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper; spray parchment with GF pan spray. Next, boil 5 cups of water and 1/3 cup of baking soda.
Marty’s way, as demonstrated in the photos, cut the pizza dough into equal pieces to form ping-pong size balls. Next, shape the balls into nugget shapes.
My way, divide the pizza dough into 4 equal pieces. Roll each piece with your hands, forming a snake. Using a knife or bench scraper, cut into equal size nugget pieces. You can make them any size you wish.
Working in batches, drop a few nuggets into boiling water for 60 seconds. Gently swirl the water with a slotted spoon to prevent the pretzels from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Repeat until all the nuggets are boiled.
Drain the nuggets with a slotted spoon and put them on the prepared baking sheet pan. Next, brush the pretzel nuggets with melted butter, then sprinkle with coarse salt.
Bake pretzel bites for about 10-12 minutes or until golden brown. Let cool and enjoy!
This recipe can be made with regular (non-gluten-free) pizza dough available at supermarkets and pizzerias.
How do you kill time while you are recuperating and on bed rest? Well, I am going to tell you. The new antibiotic I am on seems to be working. Thank God! Things were looking a little dicey there for a bit.
There are a lot of possible warnings and side effects with this strong-ass medicine I am taking. The good outweighs the risks if it means getting better to me.
One of the warnings, maybe the biggest one, is not to lift anything or strain myself. It can damage or rupture tendons.
Well, that scared the crap out of me and shut down production for the rest of the week. This forces me not to overdo it not only for the five days I am on this medicine, but I will have to take it easy and not jump in with both feet when I am better.
So what in fucks name have I been doing with all this time of rest? Well, since I am tired of the usual stuff after 22 days of sickness, I’ve had to shake things up a bit.
I’ve been reading a bunch of stupid shit on the internet, but one thing intrigued me. How to make your home smell like Williams Sonoma or Pottery Barn. I love shopping in those places, so I decided to try the “recipe” out.
Potpourri 2020s style.
I did a small batch because I hate wasting ingredients. Speaking of the ingredients to make this potpourri, remember in the 80s when potpourri was all the rage?
Well, this isn’t a bunch of mauve and rose-colored pretty-smelling things wrapped in a clear cellophane bag with bows; but culinary items, stables in people’s kitchens. How convenient. This, I could definitely get behind.
I cut a leftover lemon into wedges and threw it in a saucepan along with about 10 peppercorns, rosemary branches, and a tsp of real vanilla extract. I added water to the saucepan and put it on a simmer.
You know what? It smelled like Pottery Barn and William Sonoma! I kept sniffing the house, saying, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Realtors bake cookies before a house showing so the place smells good. This homemade potpourri would be better, in my opinion.
Everyone doesn’t like the smell of slice-and-bake cookies. The smell is clean and homey. Sophisticated with a scent you can’t quite put your finger on but like.
I got the rosemary branches for my potpourri from when I trimmed dead branches on my rosemary plant in the morning. My friend Marcia gave me this last May when she moved back to France. I vowed to keep it alive.
One side of it was iffy when I got it and is still iffy. I prune away the dead stuff so the energy can go to the healthy side. I talked to my plants and gave them a drink of water. That took about 10 minutes, but it kept me restfully occupied.
I’ve been wearing crazy shit I wouldn’t wear out and isn’t black. I don’t have anything that matches since I got the pajama bottoms from goodwill.
It works and is super comfortable. Last night, I picked out a new ensemble for today. I keep wearing the same things and washing them.
The highlight of my day was waiting for Marty to get home from deliveries and a shopping trip to Trader Joe’s. I gave him a list of things we “needed.”
Things like praline pecans, dark chocolate peanut butter cups, waffles, corn chips, and a bunch of healthy, easy-to-prepare foods while I am recovering.
What I wanted the most was their frozen GF macaroni and cheese. I was craving it. More sick cravings.
It can be baked in the cute little tray, but I microwaved it so I could eat it faster. I did add a little milk because I like it creamier.
The thing about macaroni and cheese, whether from a box, tray, or homemade, is that I always put ketchup on it. And it has to be Heinz. Before you say, “eeewww,” I assure you it’s delicious.
Mmmmmmmmm!
I’m not sure if this is only a Jersey thing since I’ve been eating it that way since I was a kid. Many of my friends growing up ate it this way. It’s the perfect acid that cuts through the rich cheesiness of the dish.
I told you long ago that chefs invented condiments to enhance food and keep it in balance. Think ketchup for a big beefy cheeseburger. A side of pickles on your plate. Vinegar or lemon with your fish and chips. Mustard and or sauerkraut on a big greasy hot dog or sausage. See?
Without acid, the dish isn’t balanced with your palate; it won’t taste as good. The key word here is they are condiments, to compliment your dish, not drowning your food with ranch dressing or ketchup.
The exciting thing we are doing tomorrow is making soft pretzel nuggets from a bag of Trader Joe’s GF pizza dough. People keep posting the ones they made on the Gluten Free Albany Facebook group, so we want to see if the hype is true.
I hope I didn’t completely bore you to death with this post, but this is my life for now.
Happy Friday! Looks like we are in for a big snowstorm tonight; let’s see if they are right this time. š
Today, I got a doctorās appointment and a chest X-ray for my birthday, just like I did on Valentine’s Day. Itās been a hell of a month for me. I am not getting better.
Itās hard to believe it has been seven years since I turned 50, which felt like only a year ago. Leading up to my 50th, I was freaking out. The actual birthday was beautiful since I celebrated it with my biological mother in person.
It was only the second time that happened.; 50 years apart. It was a dream come true! Something I have wished for more than 40 years! It was the best birthday of my life.š
Now, turning a year older isnāt a big deal. The years seem to go slower when you are young, but now they fly by. I saw a birthday quote today that went like this.
āFor my birthday, I wish for another birthday. ā
That indeed sums it all up. Every birthday is a blessing and not a bad thing. I am seeing what some of my singing idols, like Madonna, are doing to themselves with plastic surgery to look younger. This made me realize it’s better to grow old gracefully than fuck around with Mother Nature.
To update my health, Iāve been on bed rest except for making spƤtzle batter and working a little in the production kitchen before Marty kicks me out and tells me to rest. I come inside and sleep for 3-4 hours.
I am sleeping a lot since I am still exhausted, coughing, and have shortness of breath. I couldnāt overdo things even if I wanted to. I simply canātāanother week without belly dancing or seeing my friends.
Marty gave me a Go Pro for my birthday, and I haven’t had the energy to play with it or practice editing videos for my YouTube channel.
I got one of my favorites, Shrimp and Lobster Sauce which has no lobster in it. Go figure.
For my birthday dinner, we got Chinese takeout since we were already in Bennington for my X-ray.Ā There is a place we trust to make our food gluten-free since Chinese food is usually not. When I was little, I always wanted Chinese food on my birthday, or Italian.
When I woke up this morning, I saw Noah wishing me and his girlfriend Aja Happy Birthday on Facebook. It was such a beautiful post from him. š„°
Noah is always smiling ear to ear these days, which is wonderful! Aja is such an amazing, sweet, and genuine person who makes Noah happy. That is the greatest gift of all for me. Not only do Aja and I have the same birthday, but we are also very similar as well.š
Sam made a surprise visit from Burlington this past weekend. It was great seeing him since it’s been a few weeks since he visited last.
He also picked up a shift at his old job since they were short-handed. He worked 6 pm-6 am, then drove home to Essex to sleep before his 12-hour shift at UVM.
Sam is cutting the potato slices a certain way so they get extra crispy when baked. I loved watching him and how he held the knife the correct way.He made us Grilled Sirloin Tips with Crispy Potato Slices and Asparagus. It looks like a lot of meat, but the pieces were small compared to the potatoes and veg.
Sam cooked me a birthday dinner. He went to a local butcher shop and picked up the ingredients. I loved watching him cook! The meat was cooked perfectly, exactly how we like it, and was super delicious. It was full of love; you could taste it.
Our friend Martin invited us over last night for an early birthday dinner. I was so relieved I didn’t have to cook dinner for the two of us. We sat at his kitchen peninsula and watched him cook our dinner. We love watching him cook.
The food was beautiful as always. It was a short visit, we arrived at 6 pm and I was home before 8 pm. I appreciated his birthday meal so much like our friendship.
Poor Marty had to run off just as we finished eating, he went on a rescue squad call. It’s normal, it happens all the time. At least he was finished eating this time. When he got back they had another call. I was in bed way before he got home.
Marty bought me a tiny gluten-free birthday cake with a pink candle. When I was little, I always shouted, “I want a rose” when a birthday cake was being cut. The frosting on this cake was my favorite kind, gritty buttercream with lots of roses.
Happy Birthday to me! š š„³
Well, thatās a wrap and another year for me. Fingers crossed that we can figure out what’s happening when my primary care doctor sees the X-rays in the morning. I need to get better before I go stir-crazy, dammit!
Speedy delivery. Speedy delivery. I loved watching Mr. Rogers when I was little. I felt like he was talking to me, something only my grandmothers and Aunt Claire did. I thought he was so kind and made me feel special. I especially loved the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.
Many things come to mind when I think of the word delivery. āItās not delivery. Itās Digiorno.ā āSpeedy delivery, speedy delivery.ā Then there is FTD. Amazon, UPS, FedEx, USPS. Pizza, Chinese, Grub hub, and a shit load more.
A vendor friend of Marty and mine has a business called The Food Florist, which is a brilliant name. Trish took the FTD idea and made it her own. Before I get into her business. What does FTD stand for?
We know it stands for flower deliveries, but according to Wikipedia, the official name is Florists’ Transworld Delivery, which is a floral wire service, retailer and wholesaler based in Downers Grove, Illinois, in the United States. FTD was founded as Florists’ Telegraph Delivery in 1910, to help customers send flowers remotely on the same day by using florists in the FTD network who are near the intended recipient.
Why did people start giving or sending flowers in the first place? Flowers sent to sick people were meant to cheer them up. They are given or sent with good intentions to help the sick recover.
For the record, gifts can also be sent with bad intentions. I have received a couple of gifts with bad intentions, and as soon as I opened or received them, I dropped them like hot potatoes. I could feel the bad intentions.
Back to The Food Florist, she had a truck that looked like a floral delivery truck, but instead of flowers, she had frozen chicken pot pies, fruit pies, breakfast bakes, lasagna, and many more menu items.
Trish didnāt deliver the well-intended frozen meals to sick people, new mothers, or family gatherings; she had pop-up and farmers market locations where customers could purchase her meals. The customers delivered the meals themselves.
She was very successful in Albany, NY, but after the pandemic, she couldnāt find people to work since there was a lot of food prep and cooking involved. She moved back to the midwest, where she lived before moving to NY.
The shame is she provided so many meals for people to buy during the pandemic when no one was going out to eat. Her customers were devastated since they loved her and her food so much.
As in true Irish storytelling, I am now getting to the point of this blog post.
The other day when I was feeling awful and exhausted, our friend Martin, the chef across the street, left a sheet pan covered with foil on our front porch.Ā
Chef Martin and his son Luke behind the line at a pop-up dinner he was doing.
He texted me that he had cooked us dinner, and it was on our porch. This was a pleasant surprise, one I was grateful for since now we didnāt have to scrounge around looking for something easy to cook.
This was a special delivery sent not only with good intentions but love. Martin is such a sweet guy and such a good friend.
He made a pork loin with my favorite side dish of his, mashed Asian white sweet potatoes with a sweet, garlicky lime sauce. The potatoes are so different and delicious.
Sooooo delicious and appreciated!
How lucky are we to have such a thoughtful friend? We always make a lasagna and bring it to someone with a death in the family. The family could still eat while planning their loved one’s funeral arrangements.
One of my infamous grieving lasagnas.
This lasagna giving thing is a Jersey and downstate New York thing to do, dropping one off almost immediately when someone dies. My lasagnas are made with comfort and caring intentions, and with love.
I have a remarkable story about when my dad died and lasagna. Itās a post for another day, though, since it is lengthy.
Many friends and family have been checking in to see how I feel.Ā Want to know how I feel? I feel loved. š„°
Yes, I made my first Youtube video while I am sick and looked terrible, but this is who I am today.
Today, I made my first video for a Youtube channel I am starting to create. My blog has been the same since I started because Word Press is difficult to navigate, and I never found someone to help me. I am not a techie person and do not enjoy trying to figure shit out.
I used to feel comfortable with social media sites like Facebook and Instagram for our business. I say used to because they change stuff all the time.
What I knew how to do was nothing since TikTok, reels, filters, and more shit came around during the pandemic. I guess that is what all the young people were doing while we were all on lockdown. I am slowly figuring it out, but it’s a chore.
As a ham with a big personality, I like making videos. Going live, not so much since I don’t want to look dumb and say stupid things. Marty is great at going live.
Like I wanted to start a blog for a while, I’ve wanted to jump on the content-creating bandwagon. Today, out of complete boredom, I made a video. I haven’t done editing because I still have to learn how to do it.
I created my Youtube channel named what else? Julzie Style. It’s my brand, so I’m sticking with it. I haven’t published the video to the public yet. I wanted to give you guys a sneak peek.
I realize many of you have never met me or seen me in person since we graduated from high school in ’84. So now is your chance to hear my voice and see me as I am today.
For now, only you guys can see this on my blog. I am learning to edit, change the resolution, and do other fancy things to make it my own. Of course, I will be more upbeat when I am better, but blogs and vlogs tell a story, so in my case, today, I am sick.
The first mistake I made was how I held the camera! Dammit! I’ve got a lot to learn. š¤¦š»āāļø
I am experiencing a setback in my pneumonia recovery. I started getting sick again yesterday, sliding backward quickly by the evening.
Without getting into it, the dosage was wrong for one of my medications. It took all day today to get more of the medication since all the pharmacies didnāt have it in stock.
Finally, The Pharmacy, a small town, privately owned business, had it in stock. This is why it is essential to support local small businesses.
Marty is on his way home with the antibiotic as I type at 7:15 pm. He’s such a good friend, not just a husband. I am very lucky indeed.
On Saturday, at The Troy Farmers Market, one of our weekly customers gave Marty a carved wooden healing bird to help with my recovery. This touched my heart so deeply that I wept when I held it.
This customer is an older gentleman and a retired chef. I feel so humble and honored by how many people love our spƤtzle. We are currently on the menu in most high-end restaurants in Manchester and Dorset.
The interesting thing about the carved healing bird is its shape. It is shaped like a sparrow. The direct translation of the German word spƤtzle is sparrow. The shape of the noodles resembles little sparrows. Is that cool or what? I’ll have to ask him when I thank him if he knows that.
We have the kindest, most wonderful customers who truly care about us. The feeling is mutual as we get worried when we donāt see someone for a long time or hear someone is ill.
Our customers are from all walks of life, not only from our country but also people who are visiting from other countries. Our spƤtzle has even traveled on airplanes as far away as India!
We have met thousands of wonderfully interesting people. We love hearing their stories and memories of their grandmothers, making them spƤtzle as children.Ā
SpƤtzle is also made in many Eastern European countries with different names and served with things like Chicken Paprikash or Goulash.
In the six years weāve had our business, only a tiny handful of assholes have existed. I’m good with faces and names, so I remember them. I can also remember people’s names. Everyone loves when someone remembers their name. Like on Cheers.
I can recall what the asshole people looked like and why they were jerks. One extremely rude couple dared to come back and complain about their spƤtzle the following Sunday.
This was after tricking us, paying for their bag of spƤtzle with expired food stamps. They wanted another bag to make up for our lousy spƤtzle.
Before you assume, we love that many customers use their food stamp money at the market. After all, that is what it is for.
The market gives those customers twice the amount in market tokens to shop with. Even if a customer doesnāt have enough tokens or money, we still provide them with spƤtzle. We have given away a lot of spƤtzle to those in need.
Healthy food has always been our priority in feeding people, especially when we were both school lunch food service directors and cooks. Poverty is a real problem. Unfortunately, being dishonest is another one.
So back to the scammers that stole from us on purpose and then demanded more. Their rudeness and lying ignited my āJersey,ā and I lost my shit.
I told them I remembered them and the expired coupons they gave us. The spƤtzle they got for free couldnāt be what they claimed because it was made the day before and has a 16-day shelf life.
I said if they needed food, they should have been honest with us and not treated us like we were idiots. Then I told them to get the fuck out and never come back.
The surrounding vendors almost applauded me because this often happens at the Schenectady Farmers Market. We loved doing that market but stopped because we couldn’t keep working 7 days a week, and it’s the furthest away from home.
Schenectady, NY, has a wonderful farmers market on Sundays and is the home of Proctors Theater; the city is up and coming. However, most of Schenectady is a rough shady place with lots of crime.
The look of shock and how red the couple’s faces got spoke volumes. That, my dear readers, is what happens when you piss off a Jersey girl.
Marty just got home, and I started taking the correct antibiotic for seven more days. I will be better about resting and not overdoing it. I was shocked at how quickly I relapsed after returning to my old self.
Like our spƤtzle customers, you guys are also kind and wonderful people. I am honored and grateful to have all of you in my life.
Thank you for taking the time to read my posts and, better yet, commenting on them. Have a great week. ā„ļø
This is a post about coffee. Being Irish, it always takes a backstory or two before you get to the main point. Thatās how this post starts.
I havenāt checked in for a few days. I got really sick, so sick Marty took me to the ER in the middle of the night. I didnāt object, so that tells you something.
Sam no longer works in the ER, but everyone knew I was Samās mom. At first glance and exam, the provider was sure it was only bronchitis. Marty and I knew it was more than that.
It turns out the chest x-ray showed I had pneumonia. I got a breathing treatment and two antibiotics to start as soon as possible.Ā
Poor Marty was dicked around getting my two prescriptions, which was a total shit show in itself. The pharmacy finally figured out everything, and I started taking them when he returned.
Within six hours, I was feeling better. The next day was nothing short of a miracle. We made product to fill orders which went smoothly. I got tired in the afternoon, so I napped and rested for the rest of the day.
Ditto for today, same as the day before. I wasnāt nearly as tired and felt 90% better. Yay!
When I was lying around feeling miserable and coughing my fucking head off for a week, I started thinking about dumb things. Things would probably become blog posts down the road.Ā
I havenāt had a cup of coffee for ten days. Iāve been guzzling down herbal tea and honey. In the last couple of days, I switched to caffeinated tea in the morning, but I still don’t feel like having coffee.
Ok, so here comes the story! Finally. āļøš®šŖ
Weāve been in coffee pot hell for more than a year. Weāve had a Keurig maker for years but got tired of the cost and waste of the pods, plus the coffee wasnāt hot enough.
We went back to a regular 8-cup maker. We wasted so much coffee! It made me mad. So we got a 4-cup maker. We loved it for a while, then I broke it, and it isnāt made anymore. Damn.
Next, we got a single-brew coffee maker. I canāt tell you how bad it sucked. Marty boxed it up and shipped it back to Amazon for a refund.Ā
Now what? I only drink one cup of coffee in the morning. Marty has one regular, then switches to decaf. I left it up to him to decide.
He chose the pour-over-a-cup filter. We have an electric teapot that heats up in seconds. You slowly pour the hot water over the grounds in the filter, and drips into your cup. Brilliant!
The coffee is delicious and hot. Bravo! We finally found our perfect coffee solution, which is better than anything weāve tried.
Here is where the dumb thinking comes in. If the coffee filters and drips into the cup, why arenāt coffee bags like tea bags? When I thought of this, I couldnāt believe this wasnāt a thing. Is it?
I asked Marty, and he said thatās what instant coffee is. No, no, no I tell him. The coffee would brew in your cup like a tea bag.
Speaking of instant coffee, my Uncle Steve, Aunt Claireās husband, drank thousands of cups of Taster’s Choice.Ā He loved it.
When I was little, like 7 or 8, Uncle Steve used to tell everyone that I made the best cup of coffee. I spent a lot of time with them and made him at least 100 cups. I would smile from ear to ear when he told people about my coffee.
I remember I would put on the tea kettle. Stand on a chair and get out a coffee cup. I would open the instant coffee and smell it. I put what I thought was the exact amount of coffee on the teaspoon and put it into the cup.
When the kettle went off, I carefully poured the hot water into the cup, leaving enough room for the milk.
I knew exactly how much milk and sugar he liked. A foam formed on top of the coffee, which I would stir until it was gone, then add the milk and sugar.
Finally, I would take a sip to make sure it tasted right. I would always say, āYup, thatās how he likes it.ā Heās the only one I ever made coffee for. He would thank me and tell me I made the best coffee every time.
This is a sweet memory from my childhood. Aunt Claire told me I was going to put her out of business. I was very close to them; Aunt Claire was my mother’s sister and my Godmother. Gosh, I miss them terribly.
Back to coffee bags. Am I the only person who thinks this? Think how convenient this would be. You could take your favorite coffee and have it anytime you can get hot water. Why isnāt this a thing? So I did some research.
It is a thing! Ha! I knew I wasnāt the first person to think of this. This woman apparently did:
How nice they give you a warning. š¤£
When I get up in the morning, the last thing I want to do is futz with coffee. I saw fillable tea bags for coffee. Noooo! I am not awake enough to curse that much when I make a mess in my kitchen.
There are wide different varieties and price levels of coffee bags. Some are stupid money. You could go to a coffee shop, which would be cheaper, gas included.
I went on Amazon and picked a middle-of-the-road, medium-roast coffee from Ecuador. Itās reasonably priced and as easy as making a cup of tea. I read the reviews, so I ordered a box to try it.Ā
55 cents a cup. Not bad. Why isn’t the cent sign on keyboards anymore? WTF?
This would be perfect on the road or at the farmers market where we can have boiled water. I havenāt figured out the creamer on the road thing yet, but one step at a time.
Marty will see that I ordered these coffee bags and have something to say. Like, thatās ridiculous; I make you good coffee already. He does, but this is to satisfy my curiosity.
My package is scheduled for delivery on Sunday, so Iāll let you know the outcome. I still think itās a brilliant concept.
By the way, this is the dumbest thing I saw while researching. I’ll leave you with this. You’re welcome! š
Banana bread muffin. I want to frost them with chocolate frosting. Mmmm!
I wonder if everyone gets specific food cravings when they are sick. I do, and they are different with each sickness.
When I had the flu a few years ago, I only wanted baked Brie cheese topped with strawberry preserves. I would spread it on toast or crackers.
When I had covid last April, I wanted Hunts Snack-pack chocolate pudding. Badly!Ā When I finally got my pudding, Marty and I had covid simultaneously, the packaging is always a major disappointment. When I was a kid, it came in a tin can with a ring-pull top to open it.Ā
Anyone who was lucky enough to have one of these babies in their lunchbox ate it just like I did.
You would carefully lift the ring-pull and pull slowly. If you went too quickly, the worse thing would happen, the ring pull broke off, and you couldnāt open your pudding! Yikes! This only happened once to me, and I was heartbroken. Lol.
Marty made me perfect grits.
Next, you would lick the sharp metal top to get every speck of pudding. Then you ate it. I ate my slow and savored it. I also loved when my mother would make boxed pudding for my dad and me and spoon them into little glass custard cups. Yum!Ā I licked the saran wrap that covered it, of course. it wasn’t as fun as a sharp metal lid, but still good.
Plain and simple white rice.
This time while I have bronchitis, I want creamy, buttery, salty foods. Iāve had buttered rice, buttered potatoes, buttered grits, and today pasta carbonara. I’ve been craving sweet things too, but we don’t have anything in the house.
I’m Irish and love potatoes!
Marty just headed out to Bennington to pick up a prescription for a cough suppressant since nothing is working. Express care was a useless trip over the weekend. They told me I was Covid negative and had bronchitis. No shit Sherlock!
Spaghetti Carbonara
Express Care prescribed me nose spray that did nothing except give me horrendous headaches and nothing for the cough. A hacking, painful cough that never goes away, making me have to sleep upright in a chair.Ā
Marty suggested we eat outside in the fresh air, which felt great after being cooped up inside for almost a week. I could barely keep my eyes open from the bright sunshine. This is sick me 100%, and I look like shit. š¤¦š»āāļø
My primary doctor was not in today, but luckily another provider looked at my āchartā and gave me a cough suppressant! Hallelujah!
Marty asked me earlier if there was anything I wanted when he went out. I sat down and made a list. Keep in mind, my list of items is nothing I would ever think of buying, let alone crave.
Ice Cream
Chocolate frosting in a can
Popsicles
Ginger-ale
I know that when Sam had covid last May, he only wanted brown sugar and maple oatmeal. Lol.
I sincerely hope this new prescription works because no matter what, I have to go back to work tomorrow. I havenāt worked since Thursday.
I don’t have to worry about a coughing fit in the kitchen since I wear an industrial mask all the time to keep the fine flour particles out of my sinuses and lungs,
Yes, itās a thing that happens to people who work with flour a lot. It took me a year to figure this out for myself. Itās called Bakers Lung. If you didnāt know, well, now you know.
That’s it for now; hopefully, in my next blog post, I’ll be on the other side of this bronchitis. Happy Valentines Day tomorrow! ā¤ļø
*** What a guy; Marty is the best and got me everything on my list. He’s my Valentine every day!
Thursday morning, I woke up without a voice. Laryngitis is nothing new for me; I used to have it weekly after a game on Saturdays; I was a cheerleader from grades 3-12. I’ve always had a distinctive, deep voice, and when I lose it, it’s frustrating, to say the least. By Thursday night, I knew I was sick. Dammit!
Turns out I have bronchitis, something I got 100 times growing up. I never got normal colds like other kids; mine always settled in my chest. When I would cough, my father would always say, “Jesus Christ, she sounds like she has TB, for Christs’ sake!”
When I had a respiratory thing going on as a teenager, I would run up to my room and cough into a pillow. I didn’t want my parents to hear me cough, or I couldn’t go out on the weekend. I was smart too, or so I thought at the time; I switched my cigarettes to Newport Menthol. I figured if I put menthol on my chest with Vicks, I would inhale it too. Yeah, I know you don’t have to tell me.
When the boys were small, Noah had croup every winter until he was 10. It scared the hell out of us every time it happened. He couldn’t breathe, so we would stand in the bathroom with the hot water running to produce steam or wrap him in a blanket and take him outside. He went to the hospital a couple of times for his breathing issues. Sam had it only once, thank goodness.
To this day, whenever Noah and I get sick, it always ends up in our chests. Ironically, when I met my birth Mom, the same thing happens to her, and she has asthma. Sam and Marty have always been pukers when they were young, and both have motion sickness, something Noah, me, and my mom don’t get.
Since Thursday, I’ve been in bed most of the time, not to spread what I have. I’ve taken up base camp in the guest room, which is comfortable. Marty can still hear me hacking away all night and started becoming concerned.
He has administered breathing treatments when things have gotten serious, which greatly helps. When he got home from the market this afternoon, he gave me one immediately, which helped a little.
I am drinking plenty of fluids; I don’t think I’ve drunk this much tea ever. I am not a tea drinker, but maybe I will be since I like the herbal ones we have on hand. I haven’t had a cup of coffee since I was fit as a fiddle on Wednesday morning.
Being sick in February has happened to Marty and me since we were young. We both have birthdays in February, and one of us gets sick. I stopped planning birthday parties after my 9th birthday when I was sick again and had to cancel another party. We never rescheduled any of my parties, which I am sure my mother was thrilled about.
Those are the most important things I can do rest, drink fluids, and isolate myself. Besides drinking tea and water, I haven’t eaten much, I ate two boiled potatoes all-day and yesterday I had some rice for dinner. Marty has been fending for himself since I have no desire to eat or cook. Holy shit! I am sick! š
Sunday night, I went out with the Martins: my Marty and friend Martin, the chef across the street.Ā We had three tickets to see the Broadway hit “The Book of Mormon” at Proctors Theater. The third ticket was for Sam, but we had an extra since he is in Burlington.Ā
I never thought Sam would agree to dinner and a show with us since Broadway musicals arenāt his thing. He wanted to go because he loved the show South Park.
Sam and I have been watching South Park together for years. The two guys who are the co-creators of South Park, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, also wrote the funniest musical ever written or performed, The Book of Mormon.
Now if you havenāt seen South Park, I must tell you it isnāt for lightweights. This comedy sitcom isnāt for everyone since they make inappropriate episodes, always making fun of someone famous or current events and offending groups of people.
The show is a cartoon, and no one is safe from becoming “an episode.” Cartoon children are the main characters with filthy little mouths talking about things no child should know about.
Why do we like it? I donāt know because we do and find the show hysterical. Some people don’t like it, and some love it. Itās a do or doesnāt kind of thing.
Martin 1.
We asked Martin if he wanted to come with us, and fortunately for us, he did. We went to Maxonās American Grill and ate dinner before the show.
Martin 2.
Instead of me trying to explain the show if you are interested in what the hell Iām talking about, hereās the link. The Book of Mormons.
Now that you have an idea of what the show is about, I must tell you Marty laughed hysterically throughout the entire show. So did Martin and me.
The musical has clever and quick set changes, and the actors are brilliant and can sing and dance with the best of them. The lighting sets the mood of each scene wonderfully. The scenery makes you feel like the characters are there, especially in the Hell dream number.
I donāt think we have ever laughed that much for over two hours. I loved when the elders broke into a full-on tap number complete with 5,6.7,8.
If you look at reviews, many people loved it, while conservatives and religious groups hated it; no surprise.
The Book of Mormon won 9 Tony awards for Best Musical, Best Score, Best Book, Best Direction, Best Featured Actress, Best Scenic Design, Best Lighting, Best Sound Design, and Best Orchestra.
This morning when I did some research on the show, I was impressed to see I was right about the observations I made about the show last night.
The audience was a completely different crowd than the other shows we have seen over the last couple of years. The audience ranged in ages from 20-60+. It was a hip crowd with very few older senior citizens like usual.
The audience members had more relaxed outfits, and most wore black, like us. We were totally in our element, including Martin.Ā
The audience laughed through the show and applauded like crazy. This was the first show people stayed until the end. No one rushed out before the show was over to get to their car first, like usual.
The people who leave early are the same type who used to leave after communion and not return to their pews because they also wanted to get to their cars first.
Why? Why are people always so eager to run out of churches, movies, shows, concerts, and sporting events? Wasnāt the point of going in the first place was to see something you wanted to see or do?Ā
In the case of leaving before the end of mass, in my opinion, itās a bit hypocritical to show everyone you are a good Catholic by going to church out of obligation but canāt wait to get the hell out of there.
These are the same people who shook my hands and my children’s hands and wished us peace, then refused to let us cross the parking lot to get to our car. Or honk at people to drive, for fucks sake! š¤¦š»āāļø
My dad was no hypocrite, he didn’t like going to church. Period. When I was in Catholic school, I was supposed to attend church every week. To ensure families went, they put all the essential school information in the bulletin.
Instead of taking me to church, my dad would pull up in the front of the church and hand me the envelope that contained the required amount of money we needed to donate each week. Donate?
This was on top of my tuition, and it was mandatory for school parents to work the church fair, held in July, for 3 nights. This was right after working all day, where my father sweated his ass off in a machine shop..š¤
Anyway, my dad would tell me to smile at the usher, hand him the donation basket envelope, and ask him for a bulletin. I went to the same guy weekly, and he winked at me. Easy as pie.
Then my dad would take me to the donut shop or out to breakfast. I loved our breakfasts together. He told me never to tell my mother our little Sunday morning trick. I would never want to ruin spending time with my dad, he was fun, and he loved to eat. I never told her, even when I was an adult. It was our little secret.
Where was my mother when we were supposed to be at church? She said she didn’t have the patience to take a baby, the other child they adopted, to mass. She would be sitting in her robe when we got home, smoking cigarettes, and talking on the phone while their other child was in front of the tv.
The funny thing was, I took both my “babies” to mass by myself since Marty isn’t Catholic. It wasn’t easy some weeks, some weeks they got yelled at on the way home for their behavior, but they did learn things and later became alter servers.
After the boys made their sacraments, I stopped attending church for several reasons. Since then, I have a very close and intimate relationship with God and love Him with all of my heart. I donāt pray; I talk to Him. I trust Him with everything and give my worries over to Him.
Ok, enough church talk. Honestly, good for the people who go because they actually want to go and find comfort in praying with their families and community.
People may not believe how spiritual I am because of the way I am. Guess what? Spiritual people say fuck and curse like sailors. They also love shows like The Book of Mormon and can see the show’s true meaning when others see only raunchiness and swearing.
To me, the show was about love, friendship, questioning faith, trusting each other, and standing up for yourself and others.Ā To work together as a village and not against each other.
The show proved good always wins over evil. It showed you can still do a world of good but go about it differently than the traditional way. It was about trying to spread faith, ringing one doorbell at a time.Ā
To think, the musical and the message were co-created by two guys who are funnier than shit and arenāt afraid to offend people.Ā The bottom line, they got their point across.
I read somewhere the Mormons took out an ad in the playbill when the show first opened on Broadway in 2011, saying something like: while the show may be entertaining to tonight’s audience, if they read the book, it would change their life, just like in the opening song.
