I just saw a promo on Food TV for a new show called "What Would Brian Boitano Make?"
That's right. Take a minute to process that. I certainly had to. I'm still reeling a bit. My first thought was "This isn't April 1st, is it?"
My love and admiration for Food TV have been waning for quite some time now. Sara Moulton is gone. Gale Gand is gone. Jacqeus Torres? Gone. Wayne Harley Brachman? Toast. Michael Symon, who replaced that fraud on "Dinner Impossible," got replaced by that fraud. My TV used to be tuned to Food TV almost every second I was home. These days, however, if it doesn't star Alton Brown, I don't watch it. And when the Hell is he going to blow this clambake and start his own (good!) network (Kevin and I have been wishing for that for several years)?!?
So... not only has Food TV ditched nearly all of the real chefs it used to employ in favor of drunken old hags and perky housewives (not that there's anything wrong with being a housewife... that's still my dream job), but now they're stealing a really good "South Park" bit and making what I can only imagine will be an incredibly embarrassing half-hour of TV each week.
So why stop there? I think every cable network should have a Brian Boitano show. Here are a few ideas I've some up with since seeing the promo (all of about three minutes ago):
DIY: What Would Brian Boitano Build? TLC: What Would Brian Boitano Wear? Bravo: What Would Brian Boitano Design? Discovery: What Would Brian Boitano Discover? The Weather Channel: What Would Brian Boitano Forecast? Cartoon Network: What Would Brian Boitano Animate? MTV: What Would Brian Boitano Sing? E!: What Would Brian Boitano Gossip About? (insert name of your favorite news network): What Would Brian Boitano Report? Travel: Where Would Brian Boitano Go? (alternately: PBS: Where in the World is Brian Boitano?)
Were I Brian Boitano, I surely would have kicked an ass or two the second I heard Food TV even suggest such a show.
So the humidity blew away with the winds last night. My lungs feel much better, and I haven't even hit the kiddie 'roids yet!
And then I woke up this morning with a cold.
I can't win.
But I've been taking every elderberrysupplement I can get my hands on, I had a big bowl of vegan hot and sour soup (that wasn't particularly hot or sour, but it was full of tofu/mushroomy goodness) for dinner, and Kevin is out buying me some OJ so I can do some OJ/Quantum Cold & Flu shots tonight. I missed a day and a half of work last week because of the asthma issues, and I can NOT get sick enough to miss any more work right now.
Thanks to the way-too-early-in-the-year ridiculously high humidity here in NYC, breathing has been a bit of a struggle for me for the past week or so. I have "allergy-induced asthma" that is also affected by weather extremes. I've had it all my life, and I usually keep it pretty well under control, but sometimes it gets away from me. Like it has this week.
I finally broke down and went to a walk-in clinic this afternoon. I've been before. It's a pretty good facility. And it's usually a lot easier than getting into my regular doctor (especially on a Sunday!).
I got there, filled out some paperwork, and was led into an exam room by a man who I assumed to be a nurse or PA. He had a Batman pin on his shirt and a Batman sticker on his stethoscope. I didn't really think much of it at the time. I figured they get a lot of kids in a NYC walk-in clinic. He took my temperature and said he'd be back. Five or so minutes later, he came back, took my pulse-ox level, and left again. Then the doctor came in, listened to my lungs, poked and prodded a bit, and told me that Batman would be back to to do a lung function test. I expected a peak flow meter or something similar. Instead, he led me out to a desk and parked me in front of a computer. He typed in some stuff, hooked up a little mouthpiece, and launched a program. On the screen was a cartoon of a fireman and a burning shrub. My mission, if I chose to accept it, was to blow into the mouthpiece and help the firefighter put out the fire. The harder I could blow, the more forceful the water would come out of his hose (hehehe). I actually said out loud "and suddenly, I'm 9." But I figured they get a lot of kids in a NYC walk-in clinic.
I couldn't put out the fire. Not on the first attempt, not on the second (though I got closer the second time!). Better luck next time.
So the doctor came back, looked at the test results, and handed me a couple of prescriptions. One is for the standard rescue inhaler, the other for a steroid inhaler. So I imagine that within a couple of weeks, I'll have about 500 taters in my rearview.
Actually, the side effects for inhaled steroids are almost nonexistent, at least in my experience. But I'd probably still get sidelined with Manny if I had to take a drug test.
I got home and looked up the steroid inhaler to see how it compares to others I've used: "Low-dose inhaled corticosteroids (ICSs) like FLOVENT are the preferred initial daily therapy for children 5 to 11 years old with persistent asthma, according to the National Institutes of Health."
Is anyone seeing a pattern here? I didn't, really, until Kevin got home and I told him the story of my day. I mean, I know I look young for my age (though my lungs apparently feel like they're 49, according to the nice firefighter who still loved me even though I couldn't make his hose work properly). But as I told the story to Kevin, I couldn't help but feel like I'd spent the day with a pediatrician.
And after all that, I didn't even get a damn lollipop.
Kevin and I have the day off together today, which happens about as often as Halley's Comet is visible to Earthlings. The weather is oh-so-cooperative: gray, humid, warmish, and not quite raining but not quite not raining. We have plans to go to the Museum of the City of New York. So far all we've accomplished is buying an SD card for the Wii and downloading and playing old-school Nintendo games. Well, OK, so I've watched Kevin play old-school Nintendo games on said Wii.
Then I got hungry. We don't have much to eat around here, and I'm not going grocery shopping until tomorrow (when it's supposed to be even warmer, more humid, and more rainy [and I walk to the grocery store!]). But there were a few baby carrots, some less-than-perfect celery and a jar of Veganaise that I have had for a couple months but have been too scared to open. I've never been a mayo fan. I have no idea why I bought it. I guess it seemed like a good vegan thing to do. And I always have far too many cans of chickpeas in the pantry. So I gathered what little motivation and creativity I could muster and threw together a vegan classic: not tuna salad.
Finely chopped carrots, celery, and onion smashed together with a can of very well-rinsed chickpeas (because the liquid in canned beans grosses me out to no end), mixed up with the juice of half a lemon, a little too much Veganaise, lots of freshly ground pepper, monsieur, some Mrs Dash Original and some Mrs Dash Extra Spicy (which really isn't very spicy), served on toasted Arnold's Sandwich Thins (which contain the dreaded Sucralose, but I didn't buy them, and it was the only bread we had in the house, and they are dead animal-free). Many vegans throw in dulse or nori flakes for a little fishiness, and Alanis Morissette knows I love my sea vegetables, but I really wasn't feeling like I wanted this to taste so much like tuna salad. I never touched tuna salad when I was a kid due to my strong dislike of mayo. I ate dry tuna on bread. Really. And these days I get very nervous when my food tastes fishy. Fish are friends, not food.
So... this was pretty good! I definitely will use a little less Veganaise next time, and will probably throw in some chopped pickles (memo to self: buy pickles when grocery shopping tomorrow). Maybe I'll even experiment with a "mayo" free version, dressed in something more vinaigrette-like, at some point.