A knee replacement and a new pacemaker don’t mean the columnist has stopped wanting to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted.
By Steve Lopez
September 9, 2012
Being stuck at home while recuperating from surgery is an uncommonly cruel fate. I like to go places and do things, but instead I am locked down, my left leg and brand new knee strapped into an electric flexing machine six hours a day, bending, straightening, bending, straightening.
Please, oh please, if there is a God — as people keep insisting — let there be a rolling blackout.
My one dispensation from this cruel monotony was a Labor Day outing to The Taste, an L.A. Times food festival where I was master of ceremonies and co-judge for the Firefighter Cook-off. It felt good to be out of the house, and to watch as Capt. Mark Curry’s pot stickers edged out firefighter Cruz Macias’ mole enchiladas, giving Curry, who hails from Station 29, bragging rights for a year.