Monday happiness
Arriving home from church and Backpack Day church dinner, I dug into the bag of truly Southern grapes given to me by a parishioner friend, until I remembered that Monday morning is annual doctor appointment and I have to arrive at a certain weight or else, so I knocked off the grapes. Or else what, I'm not sure, but not taking any chances, and this morning I'm okay.
Purple muscadines taste the same to me as the scuppernong grapes I used to eat as a boy.
All my years I squashed the grape in my mouth, enjoyed the pulp, then spit out the skin and seeds. Anymore, I chew up the skin with the pulp, and may or may not spit out the seeds, it's all good, nomesane?, the three or four tiny seeds add a bit of crunch and bitterness to the flavor mix. This is the South, baby.
++++++++
Back from my doctor's appointment, still perfect health, exact same weight as last year. He said my bovine tissue aortic valve should last ten years, it's been thirteen headed for fourteen, well beyond warranty, and I'm good. I've almost knocked off the weekly martini, and seldom sip a glass of red, what the H more can I do? There's a leg of lamb waiting in the freezer, no doubt a nice red will go well with that sometime in the next week or so. Plus, with no doctor's appointment until August 5, 2025, I may have a plate of whole wheat spaghetti soon with some deadly rich gravy, and a glass of red with that.
Home now from breakfast: four eggs over medium, a fried chicken drumstick, a tiny country "steak" with white gravy, and a large serving of mushrooms. This is where life goes over the top. Closing this blogpost draft to punch Publish and nap Time.
Oh, and the wait staff brought me special, a slice of the blueberry pie that isn't put out until lunch Time. Sweet pie, no sugar added.
Hoping you are the same.
RSF&PTL
T88&c