The concept of free writing used to scare me. Quite a lot. But after several attempts (here and here), I’ve come to realise that it’s really quite the best way to write. So spontaneous. I never have any idea what I’ll come up with and that’s the beauty of the entire process. Like right now. I’m typing as I’m waiting for the chicken to roast. My mini bread puddings are already on the table. Thank the lord they didn’t burn. I’ve never made savoury bread pudding before, let alone mini ones.

{ inserted three hours later } These mini savoury bread puddings were born out of the desire to finish a very stale loaf of Whole Wheat Bread and an equally lacklustre bag of frozen Spinach which had been cooked in the skillet once. Spinach which had seen better days, let’s just say. I cooked it with shallots and Andouille sausages, with generous sprinklings of Ground Chipotle Powder. Mixed that with the cubed bread, 4 eggs, some milk and some heavy cream. And a little bit of freshly chopped Basil to lighten things up. I’ll share the recipe tomorrow. Or sometime. I hate taking pictures at night. These look so nasty but they taste yummy, I swear.

And now I’m stumped.

How’s that for irony?

Oh, right, my knee. Let’s talk about my knee for a wee bit.

Well, the last few days have been blurry.

I developed an allergic reaction to the painkillers prescribed post surgery. I also became incredibly ill due to anesthesia. Suffice to say that for the most part, last week had me fairly comatose. Now, I’m not doped up anymore and am feeling a lot better. The knee continues to hurts though. Sometimes, a lot. It’s still swollen and impossible to bend. I can’t stand/walk for very long without having to sit down and rest because it aches. It tires easily. My surgeon tells me that’s normal. Expected. And that I’m very much on track. Next week, I start physiotherapy for both my knee as well as my shoulder. No, I didn’t have surgery done on my shoulder but the rotator cuff is very inflamed and needs help.

Can you imagine me with wounded shoulder, wounded knee, both on the right side? Marionette much.

Oven beeping. Incessantly.

I’m guessing that, at this juncture, I’ve sinned against the gods of clocked prose. I should feel sorry but I would’ve felt a lot more woebegone had I ignored the desperate plea of the oven and allowed the fowl within to become scorched. I shall attempt another bout of timed writing this weekend. To satiate the powers that be.

On another note, flowers from friends always warm the heart.

Always.

Love, Sheela