The wearing of similar clothing continues.  Here we are the other day, me and Emily, twinned all the way down to our red shoes. 

 

Give us a call (252-1500) by noon or so. Dinners are ready by 3 and can be picked up until we close at 7. If you'd like a salad (3.25) or bread (1.25) just let us know.

 

Here are this week's dinner to go options:

 

Monday, June 27

Chicken Mole with Black Bean Salad (GF) 7.95

 

Tuesday, June 28

Eggplant Parmesan with Linguine 6.25

 

Wednesday, June 29

Meatloaf with Cheddar Mashed Potatoes 7.50

 

Thursday, June 30

Our very favorite Crabcakes 10.25

 

Friday, July 1

Here is this week's casserole:

 

Wednesday, June 29

Chicken, Green Bean, and Wild Rice Casserole

Full: 38 Half: 19

 

And this week's Lasagna is:

 

Friday, July 1

Artichoke, Chevre, and Mushroom Lasagna

Whole: 38 Half: 19

 

Tye is the very best garden helper.  She patrols, keeping out moles, voles, and other pests.  She has a couple of hiding spots of her own, tucking herself in behind the daisies and phlox and lilies. 

 

This year my cabin garden is very sweet.  The rain is helping, certainly.  But maybe this is the first time the various parts are coming together in the right way.  These plants do seem happy.  Maybe it's the extra adoration they are getting from me (and Tye) that is making the difference.

 

June 25, 2011

 

Good day to you! I’m delighted to be writing from my desk on a Saturday morning here in Asheville. I have had a few terrific days and this one now gets added to the string. A new friend of mine talked about how things become simpler following dramatic turns. He’s right. This past week has been very simple. Simply good.

 

Let’s start with today. I’ve been to the market and am pleasantly filled with a wood-fired apricot Danish. I have a pint of fresh blueberries and a loaf of seeded bread too. I saw a bunch of people who I know and they all said I look good. (I trust they mean it, but even if they didn’t, I’m sticking with believing they were speaking the truth.) Simply being told you look good is nice.

 

My garden, as you see, is a source of great pleasure right now. My two raised beds are filled with growing things. I’m amused to see that I’m not really harvesting much of anything, letting the lettuce go to seed. It’s pretty, just the same, tall flowers taking over the leaves that might have made a good salad a couple of weeks ago. Does it matter if I eat it? I don’t think so. The pleasure of seeing is a rich one. Satisfying enough.

 

I’ve gone from a place of feeling really bad to feeling, today, quite normal. That, NOT a simple pleasure, is worthy of immense gratitude. It’s nice to know that I can go down so far and then - tra la – come back up. It gives me hope and makes me believe I can get through this challenge. I have more treatments, 11 more, but if I can get to a place like today each time, I’ll manage. Today is good.

 

Today is also the day we celebrate Monsieur Henri’s 3rd birthday!!!!! This is an amazing thing to me. It is the first time he gets a big celebration, the first time his immune system can cope with being surrounded by loving adults and enthusiastic kids. He is my model these days. I mean, when he went through his treatments he couldn’t even talk! Here he is, three! He’s completely captivated by fire trucks – still – but is also learning about being with other children and playing and being a regular kid. That is no simple thing, but it fills me with joy today.

 

And then there is the simple thing of taking my dog for a walk. She is very oriented to her routine. She is as patient as she can be as I creak around my house, sitting and watching and doing not much of nothing. But there comes a time, in the afternoon, when she sees me putting on my tie-up shoes and she knows it’s HER time. She’s right. We drive to the lake and she waits until her leash is attached and then politely hops out of the car, sitting before we cross the road. She has three or four swimming spots, a couple of places where some shadow of a smell catches her attention, one area, “Squirrelville” that brings out her inner retriever. She greets other dogs, pokes into the smelly tackle boxes of the fishermen, sniffs the breeze. She’s delighted and so am I.

 

Throughout there are the cards and notes and greetings that continue to flow in. I have a big basket at home full of cards, a reminder that I am in the prayers and thoughts of so many. In my solitude I do not actively think of this, but the basket reminds me. The greetings at the market remind me. A day of flowers reminds me. A smelly, happy dog does too, perhaps best of all.

 

These beauties are pretty spectacular too.