One thing I hate when I’m cooking is surprises. As Denis and I are on perpetual diets, we shun carbs at dinner time. Nicky, however, always wants a large amount, so I make a vulgar quantity of mashed potatoes, rice or pasta for him.
The other day I called Nicky upstairs for dinner, and noticed that he shunned the mashed potato. I asked him why, and he said it was part of his ‘body building’ regime. Now he said he’d decided that vast amounts of protein were required instead.
Two days later I came downstairs to see him eating a gigantic bag of chips, and so I asked how the low-carb diet was going. He said he’d learned from a UBC prof that low-carb, high-protein diets are bad, and so was back to the combination of food groups.
We’ve grown fairly accustomed to idiosyncratic statements like that from each other. Though the other day Denis was home for work, and around noon I said I was going out briefly. He asked where I was going, to which I replied, “Just a quick appointment with the plastic surgeon.”
He looked alarmed, and said, “The plastic surgeon??” and I just shrugged and said, “Botox.” Honestly, I do not like having that man at home during the week to witness the variety of important appointments I have to attend.
Anyway, I had to get spruced up in preparation for picking mom and Gerry up at the airport. They’d been in Nicaragua for the past two months, having a fabulous time. I drove them down to Osoyoos, and spent the night. The next day I had a brief visit with an old friend.
Remember that group of women I still hang out with after 50 years? Maryjoy is one of them, and she happened to be in Osoyoos at the same time, though for a sad occasion. I dropped by and saw her and her mother, and met Maryjoy’s husband Greg for the first time.
Maryjoy and Greg must be married for about 35 years now. Her mom asked Greg if he’d ever met me before and he replied, “No, but I’ve heard of Moni for all of my married life.” For some unknown reason I felt quite proud of myself.
To cap off the week, I attended an excellent writing workshop at UBC-O. It was given by the writer-in-residence, Laisha Rosnau. We learned about setting, place, and point of view.
Now if only I could get rolfed, go to est or whatever’s required in order for me to release that creative part of myself to be able to write well. But in the meantime, I have lashings of pasta ready to be topped by pounds of protein.