Took a beautiful drive to Longview, WA, today, to get a shot of cortisone in my trigger finger. I should be all better in a day or three. That's such a beautiful drive, out the 30 on the south bank of the Columbia River. I promised the doctor-- nurse practitioner, actually-- that I wouldn't knit today, but I lied. I'll pretend "Go easy on your hand for a few days" meant no gardening.

I had thawed out a kishka yesterday, bought last June from a Polish butcher in Chicago. I didn't know how to cook it, so I looked it up online. I must have done something wrong, though, as the sausage exploded, yielding something that looked exactly like the cheap canned dog food my parents used to give our collie. It tasted good, though, once I added salt and garlic.