Who would have thought that only three weeks after my mastectomy, I’d be up and about, doing all my usual things, almost as good as new? (Almost.) The human body is as amazing as it is disgusting.
I’m very grateful for this stretch of time after recovering from surgery and before chemo starts where things feel normal again. Where we can have a barbecue with our neighbors on the porch just like old times and the ribs taste just as sweet, if not sweeter, thanks to Neighbor Husband’s secret recipe and his way with a grill.
And I managed to fry up the hush puppies only five minutes late, and even though I broke the corn and cayenne mayonnaise twice, it did finally come together with a third yolk and a whisk.
And the coleslaw didn’t suck.
And the neighbors brought the best grilled beans on the planet.
And there was blueberry cobbler left over from the night before, so nobody had to worry about making dessert.
It felt good to be cooking again. Really good. Worthy of fireworks, even.