On the 12th of February, Laura and I had a text conversation that went like this:

Laura: Hello Dear!

Phillip: Hello to you too. While we seem to have this time, I’m going to send you some sample Book cloth that I promise will not interfere with the photography.

L: Exciting! How about the newsletter for March?

P: Thank you for the reminder. I totally forgot. I’ll get on it right now.

L: How’s the cough?

P: 99% gone!

L: OMG! Yes! ☺

These are the exchanges we have throughout the week to help us stay focused. But right after that, my Home Health Aid came in with groceries for that night’s supper. It was Wednesday. That’s the evening that I have a regular guest. I looked at my watch and realized that it was time to start cooking. Somehow I was going to have to fit in the newsletter article so I wouldn’t be late yet again. (Cough, cough.)

I deliberately didn’t prepare a shopping list of abundance because I didn’t want Carie to take a long time. I still had plans for her when she returned. She took longer than the other usual shoppings. I don’t ask. It is what it is. She really didn’t have a moment to help me with the unpacking. I was already in my rollator, so I could spin around in my tiny kitchen without having to bend or stand.

With the groceries put away, I swiftly cleaned two chickens and managed to fit them into the same roasting pan. Then it was into the oven. No problem. I then tried it create wizardry on top of the stove by moving several pots to different electric burners. I didn’t have quite enough fingers to properly execute the chore. I totally seared my left thumb by grabbing ahold of one of the elements that was already hot though not yet red. Ssst! Blister! OUCH!! I kept moving, nonetheless. It was my intension to get everything finished before bedtime.

I had prepared a complicated sauce to smother the rice. It sat in the refrigerator in a heavy pot. I thought I knew better than to try to wrangle the whole contents with one hand. Apparently, the messy spill into the refrigerator proved me wrong.

When it was all over, it was just after 5:30 p.m. My guest called to say that she would arrive in a timely fashion and bring salad and squash soup with her. She brought a nice salad and broccoli raab instead. I got over the fact that I really had my mouth all set for the squash soup.

What do I have to complain about? These days are lovely if you’re not driving. Tomorrow we were promised another storm. At least I’ve gotten the samples for Laura in the mail. BTW, dinner was stupendous even without the squash soup. This newsletter got finished as well. (Cough, cough.)

As published in the March 2014 issue of "St. Peter's Press," the monthly newsletter of St. Peter's Presbyterian Church in Spencertown, New York.