All sorts of good news, chez Ravelled.

He got the chemo pump off on Thursday; tired, but no pain, cramps, or nausea; still has his hair; has had to lay off the ice water, which he loves.

I am invited to Sunday dinner.

At this writing, I have five rows left on the current stealth project, if I continue with the pattern as written. I am very, very pleased with what I see so far.

I went to Sprouts this morning and brought home three pounds of cherries, another bag of clementines, three (should have been four, see below) wee cartons of blueberries, another baguette because the one from last week has ossified (but will still be good for French toast, should I get ambitious), a dozen incredibly tender ginger/molasses cookies, and some Roma tomatoes.

I had everything stacked neatly in the part of the cart where your toddler goes, when one of the cartons of blueberries suddenly made a break for freedom. Blueberries all over the floor in the produce section. I could have cried! Thankfully, one of the employees fetched a broom and a dustpan, while I directed traffic, and the little rascals went to the Great Compost Heap in the Sky. I felt like a blueberry murderer, so I did not pick up a replacement carton.

From Sprouts, I went to Wally World and picked up milk, cream cheese, bananas, and four bundles of storage tubs in various sizes.

The fruit has been sorted out into a week’s worth of lunch portions, so all I will have to do is grab and go. I also bought (at Sprouts) some allegedly healthy cheese puffs, and they are quite tasty, but after eating a portion and taking a nap, I actually read the label. Three oils are listed as a possibility; the first is canola oil. I don’t do canola oil if I can help it. So the leftovers (already portioned out) will go up into the freezer for the next time I get a mad craving for cheese puffs. Which isn’t often, something on the order of once a year.

I am so thankful to have AC in Lorelai again. I am thankful for all the water I have drunk this past week. I am not feeling up to fasting this weekend, which makes me a little sad, but perhaps it will be cooler next month (a girl can dream), when Fast Sunday rolls around again. I wonder how my fellow Saints manage, who live in equatorial climes and have middle-aged or elderly bodies?

I am going to pour myself a glass of water and grab some of those cherries and a clementine or three. And then maybe make myself a PBJ for dinner, as the thought of eating anything hot just makes me shudder. And then maybe I will grab my gym bag and go hang out in the pool at the health club for dessert.

Or maybe I will just go sit on the couch and knit until the urge passes.