Friday, January 27, 2012
I'm here again, buried under blankets on the couch. Did you notice how I very casually implied in last night's post that I was under the weather? So polite, I am.
'Cause I'll be honest, what I really wanted to say is that 1) I was bitten by a rogue stomach bug from H-E-double hockey sticks (as Haven would say - at least to us). 2) Said rogue stomach bug ended my fourteen year reign as queen of the non-pukers. I was booted from the throne. Only...I was booted to the throne. The irony is not lost on me.
Aren't you glad I didn't tell you all of that last night? Who wants to read about puke? No one, that's who.
But really, that fourteen year thing. It hurts.
I truly believed my body, through a personal history of food poisoning and sheer strength of will, had adapted itself to eliminate the need for something so...distasteful. I was so proud. And now, here I am, with Cory and all the commoners. What a fall from grace.
Is this how Kim Kardashian feels right now?
I have a new recipe I want to share with you, but it will have to wait a few days. Right now I'm still on a stringent diet of cinnamon toast, applesauce, hot tea and 7-Up.
And chips and salsa.
It couldn't be helped. I was craving something salty and plain tortilla chips seemed innocent enough. But then Ruby heard me crunching and she wanted in on the action. And she wanted "the sauce". Yeah baby, Mama wants the sauce, too.
So I poured myself a little bowl.
See, conventional wisdom says that the ideal post-flu meal is chicken noodle soup. But what happens when chicken noodle soup is the very thing that was...uh...dispelled?
I'm a good wife. I made a giant batch of homemade chicken noodle soup for Cory during his convalescence. It was my best batch yet. I had seconds. Sue me. I followed it with a blood orange for a late night snack.
Chicken noodle soup and an orange made me deathly ill. There's no end to the irony.
For now, I'm feeling mostly better, but don't tell Cory. He's being extra doting and attentive and I plan to milk my convalescence for as long as possible. I think it might recuse me from doing dishes tonight.
Recuse. I don't believe I've ever blogged that word before.
What if the stomach flu made me smarter? I'll keep you posted.
In closing, I have 3 burning comments. I know they're no longer timely, but maybe you'll bear with me. I'm still quite terribly sick, after all. (cough cough)
1. What caused Jessica Biel to wear a dress to the Golden Globes that appeared to give her a third, lace boob? How does this sort of thing happen in Hollywood? She's so pretty, that Jessica Biel. I enjoy the look of her mouth. And I don't care one bit if that sounds creepy. If you're reading this, Jessica Biel, don't feel bad. These things happen and we actually like it when we see that you're just like the rest of us in a very toothsome, Golden Globes-presenting, Justin Timberlake-marrying kind of way.
2. Why in the world did Bradley Cooper look so terrified when he was presenting? #stagefrightfever
3. Why was everyone up in Elton John's grill?
4. Why was everyone up in George Clooney's grill?
5. Why did Angelina Jolie wear a dress that was the exact inverse of my Senior Prom dress?
6. Why didn't she pair hers with dyed-to-match red shoes and red nylons like I did?
7. Doesn't she know how sexy bright red sheer stockings truly are?
8. Why isn't Brad Pitt cute anymore?
9. Why does Zoey Deschanel always look so cute, no matter what?
10. Charlize Theron? Why? Just why?
11. Why do I love Jessica Chastain so much even though I barefly know her?
12. Again with the barefly.
13. Do all the "hot" starlets envy Tina Fey? They should.
weaker by the minute. Time to dial up salsa delivery and hunker down with season 5 of Friday Night Lights. The clock is ticking, you know... Come tomorrow I'll be up to my elbows again in dishes and personal hygiene and meal prep. So for tonight? I shamelessly convalesce.