Spicy tuna tower, with sushi rolls
Pretty food
Been a
busy couple of days. Jean and Jeannie picked me up last night for sushi supper
at Tokyo Café, one of my favorite places. We went early but still waited almost
an hour for our dinner—as the server explained, sushi slows everything down,
and the kitchen was behind. I had salmon crudo which was good but not enough to
eat; Jeannie had some kind of roll—and tried Kirin, a Japanese beer, which she said
was terrific; Jean had the prettiest dish of all—a spicy tuna tower. She said
it was both spicy and good. Fun to get out for dinner.
Sophie
is coughing again. Poor dear started with a few coughs a couple of days go, but
I am alert to that sound now and vowed not to let the problem develop. Jordan
took her for an allergy shot yesterday, but she’s still had some coughing
spells. I think though the steroid did to her what steroids often do to people—hyped
her up. She woke me at 4:15, dancing in a manner that says she’s desperate to
go out. You always hate to refuse in case she really does need to go, so I got
up—and watched her disappear into a far and dark corner of the yard where I
cannot see a black dog. She finally came back and lay on the patio, as if ready
to begin the day—I enticed her in with treats which she then refused.
Five-thirty came too quickly, and she had to go out again. This time I dished
up her breakfast, and she reluctantly came in but was not interested in eating.
At 6:45 we made one more trip; after that I refused, loved on her, and gently
told her to go take a nap. It was nine o’clock before I woke up. Tonight she
ate her breakfast, asked for more, doesn’t seem to be coughing. It will be a watchful
weekend.
Yesterday
was National Cozy Mystery Day, in case you missed it—a day in honor of Agatha
Christie’s birthday. Confession: I am not especially a Christie fan; in fact, I’m
not a fan of British mysteries, as are so many of my friends. I have enjoyed
the two books about Christie’s mysterious temporary disappearance, but I’m not
much schooled in her actual mysteries. It makes me feel a bit guilty, as though
I am masquerading by calling myself a mystery writer when I don’t have the
right credentials. Like those people who fake their academic degrees. Oh, I’ve
read some of the books, but a long time ago. I need to buckle down and re-read.
Jean particularly recommended the one in which Poirot dies—wonder which book
that is?
I
rarely diss on businesses or companies, but I’d like to issue a warning here:
do not deal with Cigna insurance. Six months ago, when TCU cancelled their
dental insurance for retirees, I took out a policy with Cigna. I paid each
month, and each month they returned the check to my bank. SO each month I
called to find out what was wrong and was given a variety of fixes, like a code
on my check, none of which worked. And each month I would get an overdue email
statement. This week my bank called and was told I need to put P.O. before Box
on the envelope—is not the lamest thing ever? But this week, when both the bank
and I talked to Cigna, the representative acted as though I had an active
account. A note on my account on the website made me nervous, and I asked my
dental office to call. Cigna had cancelled the insurance as of July 1 without notifying
me either through a website message or email. Upshot: I have cancelled my dental
appointment for next week and applied for new insurance. In retrospect, I think
the problem was that I didn’t let Cigna automatically debit my bank account,
but I am leery of having many automatic debits. I want to be in control of what
happens with my banking.
Now
waiting for Jordan to arrive with supper—for me, veal caprese from Macaluso’s just
down the street. It was a hectic day, with Jacob playing 36 holes in a golf
tournament, and nobody thought about dinner until too late to defrost anything.
And Jacob will be in a hurry to get to the Paschal homecoming game. Meantime, I’m
hungry!
Happy
weekend everyone.
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