I stopped at a big farmer's market Friday in East Greenwich, RI to pick up apples, peaches, squashes, carrots, and some local syrup and honey. I'd prepared a double batch of gluten-free pancakes the day before to bring home, toast, and enjoy. I had added banana and apple, chocolate chips, honey, and organic almond butter to the batter and ate a few on the road trip.
The weekend had the potential to be a wash out, since it rained for four days straight. I didn't get to take my dogs on walks like I'd hoped, though I did squeeze in a Saturday morning walk with them while the rain ceased for an hour. I didn't see the sun at all though, and the foliage was kind of sad looking under the wet, cloudy canvas.
Once home, I cooked a spaghetti squash, and also a butter sauce with sour cream, parsley, onion, and mini orange tomatoes. Cutting the squash took longer than cooking it, if possible. My parents don't own a sharp knife. I went through over twenty large, dull knives before turning into a mad woman and stabbing the thing all over with a little paring knife and digging my fingers in to tear the flesh apart. I'm lucky I didn't lose a ligament. I think I know what my parents are getting for Christmas from me this year!
My friend Fred came home with me. He made the 7-hour trip with me last year in August to celebrate my 30th birthday, so he'd already met my parents, grandparents, and some of my friends. This year I didn't expect him to be able to come, since he was in the hospital all summer. Miraculously, the doctors decided last-minute they would release him on Friday morning, just two hours before I was planning on driving home. So I wasted no time in picking him up.
Fred refused to fill his pain medication prescription, after being on some heroine-like hospital drug for two months. He wanted to save a few bucks and tough it out. Well he certainly did. He was tougher than any woodsmen field day competitor I'd ever seen, stifling his moans when we drove on a bumpy road or when standing up after sitting for a long leg of the drive. He even drove for the first half of the trip, and pulled the car over to check out the tires when he felt the car's alignment off. In the pouring rain, Fred pulled up to an air pump at a gas station and filled my front passenger tire, which was very low. He also pumped my gas, and checked out a rusty tie rod end and looked over the engine.
When I got home Friday night, having turned 31 two months ago, my mother had gifts waiting for me: A Celtic designed pendant on a sterling silver chain with matching ring, an herb garden grow kit, a book called Heaven is for Real, and a soft little stuffed moose that is bright pink.
On Saturday, Fred and I visited my best friend from high school, Amanda, and she gave me two little potted aloe plants. I kept one and gave the other to my maternal grandmother, who I joined for dinner shortly afterwards. I stopped at my favorite restaurant in the whole world, Eat-N-Meet, in Saranac Lake to pick up some dinner to bring to Grandma's. She had also made a frozen Chef Boyardee pizza but I just had a little taste. She said it was no good and she wouldn't buy it again, so I shared some of my Potato Gnocchi with butternut cream sauce, plantain dumplings, miso soup, Reuben sandwich, grilled veggie kabobs, squash, and sweet potato fries with her. It was a heavenly meal.
On Sunday Fred and I went to church and my dad delivered an awesome sermon, as always. I usually listen to his sermons online (the website is http://tupperlakechristiancenter.org/join_us0.aspx if you care to listen,) but seeing him preach in person is much better. He's much more animated than he used to be, and still very funny. After church I commented that his chest looked smaller, and assumed it was due to a healthy weight-loss, but he grumbled and my mother whispered in my ear that he can't do pushups anymore since hurting his shoulder ligament over the summer. My dad spent most of the weekend walking around the house with a shoulder re-alignment body cast covering his entire upper chest and arms, with his slightly less than toned belly hanging out underneath.
My paternal grandparents were in church, too! It's so rare that I get to see them, since they live in Ohio. They were with an older lady, who I mistakenly introduced to Fred as my Great Grandma Boyea. Then my Grandma Boyea reminded me that Great Grandma had died a couple years ago, and this lady was my Great Aunt Patsy. I was gravely embarrassed, but pretended not to be.
On the drive back to Rhode Island Monday morning, Fred and I stopped into my Great Uncle Norm's house in Port Henry. He is my maternal grandmother's brother. He owned and ran the famous Port Henry Knotty Pine Restaurant for over 30 years and he's a great chef. He makes and freezes his own tomato sauce using home grown tomatoes and basil, along with other seasonings and a wonderful hickory apple-smoked sausage. We all had spaghetti for lunch, followed by a homemade apple pie for dessert. He sent me home with a huge bag of apples he'd picked himself, and told me to wait for the golden delicious apples at the bottom of the bag to ripen a little more before eating. The top of the bag was all Macintosh apples, and I juiced three of them this morning. It was the best apple juice I've ever had!
Looking forward to my next trip home at Thanksgiving already. Good food. Good times.
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