I feel like I'm supposed to be doing something. Not sure what, but the gentle swaying of the trees outside my living room window is calming, and that's a good thing. Time just marches on and I feel like I should be moving in some direction, doing something more meaningful and purposeful than watching Siamese cats chase squirrels and house-related stuff. Oh right, I'm resting. Huh, yeah, and thinking too much. I need to get out more.
Hubby, undeterred by the crime of our first week here, replaced both bathroom sink/vanities and accompanying plumbing, the kitchen faucet, and built heavy duty, wall-to-wall shelves in a storage room behind the garage on the second week. He organized all the boxes/tubs of stuff onto the shelves, wired lights and built shelves in his "tool room" in the garage. We then planted flowers out front and gardenia shrubs under our bedroom windows. Maybe he's sleeping too well on the new bed. It's a memory foam affair from Keetsa. Initially quite skeptical of the bed-in-the-box idea, he was then sufficiently impressed to buy one. I, on the other hand, was unmoved by the claims of eco-friendliness. It took at least two weeks for the off-gassing to reach a tolerable level. He sleeps like a rock. Me, not so much. I like those air beds better (not the Sleep Number, but the ones in some Hilton hotels).
Next we were told we couldn't keep the boat on the property, which is BS, but whatever. It was the mandate Hubs needed to sell the SeaSwirl Striper. He posted it on Craigslist the day after we got the notice. It sold in 3 days. Someone got a smokin' deal, and it's never had a name so they don't even have to change that. He was a bit sad, said it was a "relieving sorrow", but would be fine when he buys a small inflatable. He won't miss the maintenance costs or the sheer size and weight of the thing. My dad wanted to go fishing with Hubs Labor Day weekend. He missed the boat. Literally.
Getting the body work done on the car was a hassle. It wasn't done well the first time so it was back to the shop today. The dents are now gone and the pinstripes match, but there are strange drips where they sprayed something, ostensibly to remove the old stripe. I just hope it comes off. The Hubby's not here to make an assessment, and I didn't notice it at the shop. In the bright sunlight it's quite noticeable. I'm sick of worrying about this.
There are other things going on in the neighborhood that have been unsettling, marring the bliss I hoped would continue for some time to come. I guess we just need to fortify and beautify and hopefully things will stabilize. I'd forgotten how chilly Alameda mornings are. Brrr. It's in the 50's usually, and windy.
As for the lung function tests: on some of the tests I scored 77%, and on others I scored 115%. The pulmonologist says its a miracle for someone who's had stage 4 lung cancer for 4 years to breathe that well. He was a lovely guy, and seemed quite amused by me. Or maybe just puzzled. He sent me packing with all sorts of inhalers and admonished religious dosing. He didn't have much to say about acupuncture's benefits (even though he's Chinese).
Movies watched: 0, Books read: 0, New recipes cooked: None, except dark chocolate nib/mint/white chocolate chip buko-pandan ice cream sandwiches. They're to die for! Cooking shows recorded now that I've learned to operate the DVR : A slew (the Two Fat Ladies, Jamie Oliver, and Nigella Lawson!). I have A Single Man and The Runaways in the wings.
Those of you who like salted pig parts ought to make a pilgrimage to Boccalone in the Ferry Building. The salumi is fantastic! Pistachio-embedded mortadella was terrific and the fennel orange salami knocked my socks off. It seems the shop salumi tastes better than the ones for sale, but I can't be sure without testing them side by side. I wasn't impressed by the soppresatta, but the coppa is pretty spicy and good! Yummmy! Being a forbidden food (really, cancer patients ought not eat this bad, bad stuff) makes it twice as delicious in that rebel sort of way (and twice as unhealthy). I've said it before—a love of pork is hardwired into Pinoys. (Many thanks to lifelong, intrepid adventurer Julie for the eating, drinking, and sidewalk art-buying into the night!)
I think that sort of sums it up for this edition of the Pearl Harbor gazette. I never thought I would think, "It's so far to the bedroom, I think I'll just sleep on the couch."