TOOT, TOOT, TOOTSIE

See that little tinge of color up there at the top of my patio roof?

Take a closer look.

Those are a few blossoms on our Trumpet Vine.  There are quite a few more, tooting out their hope for some rain.

Just send us some damned rain!

Actually Prescott, which is just a few miles west of us, has had a couple of good rain storms in the past couple of days.  But the rains have been splitting and avoiding us here in Prescott Valley.

But . . it will come.

MONSOON SKIES

It's looking more and more promising for some rain.  We've had a few sprinkles but that's all.  But this is what caused that low temperature I showed you in my last post.



Dagnab it, there's got to be some rain up there somewhere.



Stay tuned.

UNBELIEVABLE!

Oh I bet you've all been worried about me since my Monday post, right?  Well, I'm okay.  Except that I ran my foot into a leg of my bed this morning and split the end of my little toe open.  I'm so used to running into things that I didn't think anything of it.

UNTIL!  As I was walking around in the kitchen I suddenly looked down and saw spots of blood all over the floor.  Oh, hell!  But I put a bandaid on my toe, cleaned up the floor and SWMBO never knew anything about it.  Until I told her later.  So it goes in the life of the old and clumsy Catalyst.

But there's better news.  At late afternoon I passed an electronic sign and was amazed to see this.

Oh, not that, you idiot.  The next one.



Can you believe that?  Nearly 5 o'clock in the afternoon and only 73 degrees.  That's California coastal weather!  Amazing.

But even more amazing was the sight just a few hundred feet away that SWMBO called my attention to.



That my friends is a double century plant, rising perhaps 25 or 30 feet into the air.  Since they reportedly bloom only once in about 100 years, that's pretty darned amazing.



All hail the plant of the century!

CANCER!

I had my first, and hopefully last, cancer surgery today.  It was a squamos cell carcinoma about the size of a quarter on my upper right arm.  I have no idea what caused it except that I was always a fair-haired, fair-skinned boy who took no heed of the dangers from the sun's rays.  I burned my skin to a crisp more than once.  And perhaps this is how I paid for it.  I think this will be the only picture from this adventure.

It's not much.  Just my arm heavily bandaged and wrapped with an elastic bandage.  SWMBO tells me I will have a scar to brag about once it's healed . . probably about 5 inches long.  But I don't think I'll show that to you.  I'm not LBJ, after all.

The medical assistant shot me full of numbing stuff, about 6 hypos full, until my arm just felt like a piece of dead wood.  They had me lie on my left side, covered me with all kinds of paper stuff and the doctor began slicing.  At least I guess he did.  I felt nothing until late in the game when he hit an area that hadn't been numbed.  I said, loudly, "Ouch!  I felt that!"  He apologized and called a second assistant who emptied yet another hypo into me.  No more pain. 

I carried on a jocular (as only I can) conversation with the doctor throughout the surgery and told him how good my arm felt when he began doing the subcutaneous stitching.  It felt like it was becoming taut and muscular again.  Well, actually that "again" may be an overstatement since I've been a rather flabby guy for decades.

SWMBO . . . okay, my wife Judy . . . stayed in the room the entire time and said the doctor did some fine chain stitches.  At one point she asked him if he'd ever tried crocheting.  He said he didn't think he had the patience for that.  I then accused him of making a pun: patience - patients, get it?

Finally it was over and contrary to the doctor's warnings, I have had no pain or discomfort whatsoever.  This is about 6 hours after the surgery.  I'm happy and as the saying goes "cancer free."

Let's hear it for modern medicine.

SWABIA, OH SWABIA!

Swabia is a mountainous region in southwestern Germany that borders both Switzerland and France.  It produced this.

That, hungry readers, is an onion, bacon and caraway tart.  Let's view it from the Oddball helicopter.



Actually Swabia only produced the recipe.  This particular tart was produced by SWMBO.  It is delicious.



It contains copious quantities of onions and bacon and caraway seeds.  And some butter.  And egg yolks.  And cream.

Is it any wonder that I obey a woman who can create this kind of culinary masterpiece?  Swabia, gastronomy, SWMBO . . . you have my heart.

GIMME SHELTER!!!

The Rolling Stones are always good for some hip-shakin' music on a quiet Saturday.  But check out the stunning Lisa Fischer, trading riffs with Mick on this live version of Gimme Shelter.



By the way, think 11 and 22.  I just noticed this is my 1,122nd post here on Oddball.  Thanks for following along.

SWMBO SPEAKS

She's back!  Yes, once again SWMBO (She Who Must Be Obeyed) has been rankled and has risen to . . the pen.  Herewith, her recent epistle:

Watermelon!!

I'm fed up!  Why is everyone trying to improve on watermelon?  What's to improve?

The last straw was a recent potluck dinner party when one of the guests said, "You all are my guinea pigs tonight.  I tried a new salad recipe.  Hope you like it."

Well, I didn't.  Watermelon accompanied by garlic and olives and tomatoes, for God's sake!  Garlic, olives and tomatoes love each other but they get together and jump on watermelon and kick all the texture, flavor and beauty right out of it.

Today I received a new magazine in the mail and there it was: a recipe for tomato, cucumber and watermelon salad, with cilantro, scallions and cayenne!

Okay, folks.  I'm not a complete purist.  One of my favorites is a "Melon Salad" using equal amounts of watermelon, honeydew and cantaloupe with a bare hint of raspberry vinaigrette and fresh mint.

If you do much more than this, you kill the essence.  And don't even let me hear that you put some on the grill.

I'm just sayin'.