This blurry photo is me seven years ago, two years before I started the Great Health Decline. I realized anyone who may be reading this is likely someone new, as I abandoned this blog years ago. I wasn't writing here when I took this photo. I had a serious case of flu in 2017, then I had pneumonia and spent half of that year being sick. The end result is I haven't been well since. Covid has kept me housebound for the past year because of my tenuous health, although I spent most of 2020 at the house where I grew up, clearing it out after my mother died. Eight months of work, most of it by myself, until the last couple of months. I thought I'd give a little background as to why this has become a food blog. I've had little else for a year but cooking. I don't think I'm desperate enough to show dust on the furniture, at least not yet! I do have an appointment on the 18th for more tests trying to determine what is wrong with me. My husband likes to tell me it's my mother sticking pins in me. Sometimes I wonder, although it's along the line of longtime, ongoing trauma causing illness that I believe may be the pins. Minnesota will enter spring eventually and I'll get out and hopefully be able to garden. I have kept hope alive somehow, that I will get better. Perhaps I can have something other than food to write about.

So as to keep a theme going, I roasted a chicken a few nights ago, I had a breast left and used it with fennel, garlic, asparagus and tarragon with a little linguine. I couldn't eat it all so we had it and the rest of the Involtini for lunch. What Mark calls a potpurie. No, not a misspelling, that's what he calls it. 

The sun is shining and it's 48 degrees. Spring is trying.