A Freaking Week! (Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia)

It's been a week. Nothing's happened; I just took a break, waiting for something to happen. Right now I'm in the midst of a tornado watch and that doesn't inspire me. I have no fear. The Law Of Averages, it protects me, even unto the 60 mph winds. I do have mental scars from the rear-ending of a week and a half ago. I am almost unable to change lanes because I can't adjust my speed if someone is even close to my blind spot.

Marcia has taken another job in another building at TeddyJ, so that's now two friends who don't work with me daily. That's okay; it isn't as if she's fallen off the face of the earth. I may be forced to contact her on the phone, however, and I hate that.

I've been checking on the cable tv every night, and JFK is still dead, as is Andy Kaufman. (There was a brief interlude in which AK was Not Dead.) PBS has done yet another excellent anti-hoax JFK show. Skull fractures prove he was shot in the back of the head. Now, of course, someone's accusing the secret service agent behind him of accidentally shooting JFK.

Two weeks ago, Gary prefaced his Physical Therapy appointment by insisting that he knows everything about his back, no one else can tell him about his back, and health professionals don't know anything he can't find on Google. That last bit of foolishness drove me to tears. The most ignorant sound is an uneducated person dismissing another's expertise. I made snide remarks about the "medical education that came with your B.S. degree from the local college." He came back from his first visit at PT humbled, and he's obediently done all the exercises. He feels much better. Evidently it's not his bulging disc so much as his side muscles skewing his back of of place.

To compensate for that smackdown, Gary has been the Expert on All Non-Medical Things this week. He lectured his Mom on cooking, and preached at his Dad about grocery shopping. Then yesterday he was trimming a steak for Beef Stroganoff. I noticed the pile of trimmings equaled the pile of Gary-approved steak.

"Gary. You are kidding me. Most of that steak is fine."

"No! It has gristle. All gristle. This is an awful steak."

I picked through the pile. "Most of this is great. Some of it may be gristle-adjacent, but that doesn't hurt it. I'm trimming this more and cooking it."

"It's scrapple! Scrapple! Don't you dare put that garbage in my Beef Stroganoff!"

And I didn't. I seared it up and deglazed the pan with some wine and it was heavenly, so I ate it all myself. Gary had to go buy more steak for his recipe. His Beef Stroganoff was just as good as my Scrapple.