Wednesday

Julie picked me up at 9:00 and off we went to the farmers' market. I bought broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots, all organic (although I don't follow that custom) at about--oh, three times the price I'd pay at The Market. We then went to Trader Joe's, where I got swordfish, shrimp burgers, and mac and cheese made with--get this: not pasta, but butternut squash. Hey, I was intrigued and am looking forward to trying it.

Julie told me about a wonderful ravioli they make with ricotta and lemon zest--did I want to get some? No, I told her, I'd wait on that. As she put her bags in the truck, I returned her cart. When I got home, I found a package of the ravioli in my bag.  I called and left a message of thanks, but in truth, I wish she hadn't done that. I'm not sure if she's rolling in dough and/or thinks I'm barely scraping through and/or has a major inferiority complex, but she has often done things like this and it makes me uncomfortable in a variety of ways. I could elaborate on this, but I'll leave it there.

Suzanne stopped in to show me pictures of her great-niece in Iowa (or Idaho--same damn place to me) and we discussed the fact that baby's parents refused the vaccine, then both got COVID. However, they're fine now. She asked if I wanted to go to WinCo this morning and yes, indeedy. I need some bulky and/or heavy things, so will appreciate the ride.

Bused to town and took a DVD back to the library, then sat down and starting reading a book called A Matter of Death and Life. It's non-fiction and written by a husband and wife, he an emeritus professor at Stanford, she an author. Both have published a number of books; this one is jointly authored and about her dying and his living. 

Home and I washed and cut the fresh carrots, trimmed the broccoli, and prepared the swordfish to be roasted in the oven. Oh, yum, what a terrific dinner!