Arabella, The Opera
Care for a rundown of my week?
It's allergy season. 'Nuff said.
My best friend has now vacated her apartment, which was near mine, and, shortly after Mother's Day, will be embarking upon a cross-country journey, in a tiny car, that will terminate approximately 3,000 miles away, where she will settle.
I am having surgery on Wednesday. ON MY REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS.
The pharmacist refused to fill my prescription for pain medication, citing a new law that just took effect that requires prescriptions to be written on a certain special kind of paper. Okay, okay, I admit I procrastinated a little bit in going to get the prescription filled, but I was a bit distracted, what with getting work and personal things in order prior to the SURGERY THAT I WILL BE HAVING ON MY REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS. Do you want to know what strong, serious, special pain medication we're talking about here? MOTRIN.
In my refrigerator is Humboldt Fog cheese, some other fancy kind of soft cheese that's all buttery and was washed in beer and is absolutely delicious, fresh grapes, fresh strawberries, hot and sweet sopressata, smoked Norwegian salmon, and flourless chocolate cake. Today is the first day of my pre-surgery diet: I am to eat only pasta, breads, crackers, and canned fruits and vegetables. Tomorrow I get only Jell-O and liquids.
My husband is sick. He asks me every five seconds how I am feeling, for fear that I will catch his cold, develop a lung infection, and proceed to surgery anyway to avoid having to reschedule and drag out the agony and will die on the operating table.
Tell me something funny, please. ANYTHING. I will wait, patiently, while I eat my canned fruit cocktail for breakfast.*
*Just kidding. Arabella doesn't do canned fruit cocktail. I will be eating a sourdough English muffin and Mandarin orange segments packed in their own juice.
*UPDATE: The Mandarin oranges were packed in water, not in their own juice. I now understand why most Mandarin oranges are packed in syrup. Doh!
It's allergy season. 'Nuff said.
My best friend has now vacated her apartment, which was near mine, and, shortly after Mother's Day, will be embarking upon a cross-country journey, in a tiny car, that will terminate approximately 3,000 miles away, where she will settle.
I am having surgery on Wednesday. ON MY REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS.
The pharmacist refused to fill my prescription for pain medication, citing a new law that just took effect that requires prescriptions to be written on a certain special kind of paper. Okay, okay, I admit I procrastinated a little bit in going to get the prescription filled, but I was a bit distracted, what with getting work and personal things in order prior to the SURGERY THAT I WILL BE HAVING ON MY REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS. Do you want to know what strong, serious, special pain medication we're talking about here? MOTRIN.
In my refrigerator is Humboldt Fog cheese, some other fancy kind of soft cheese that's all buttery and was washed in beer and is absolutely delicious, fresh grapes, fresh strawberries, hot and sweet sopressata, smoked Norwegian salmon, and flourless chocolate cake. Today is the first day of my pre-surgery diet: I am to eat only pasta, breads, crackers, and canned fruits and vegetables. Tomorrow I get only Jell-O and liquids.
My husband is sick. He asks me every five seconds how I am feeling, for fear that I will catch his cold, develop a lung infection, and proceed to surgery anyway to avoid having to reschedule and drag out the agony and will die on the operating table.
Tell me something funny, please. ANYTHING. I will wait, patiently, while I eat my canned fruit cocktail for breakfast.*
*Just kidding. Arabella doesn't do canned fruit cocktail. I will be eating a sourdough English muffin and Mandarin orange segments packed in their own juice.
*UPDATE: The Mandarin oranges were packed in water, not in their own juice. I now understand why most Mandarin oranges are packed in syrup. Doh!
Copyright 2005-2010 by Arabella and Trattoria Breve. All rights reserved. 9:39 AM
7 Comments:
I wrote a funny little bit today. It might make you laugh a little. In addition, I had a five minute conversation this morning with the lawn mower guy and realized my fly was wide open and I wasn't wearing underwear. Hmm. Maybe he'll mow twice this week...
(I'm raising my coffee to you, toasting a week that can only get better - after the surgery and fasting, of course. I'm reading A Cricket in Times Square to Madeleine right now and it reminds me of you. Not the cricket, but the other parts.)
Something funny - my review with my boss went off without a hitch and I am an exceeds expectations employee. In the meantime I am now using 75% of my workday to blog. I wonder exactly which expectations I am exceeding?
I hope you're planning to make some kind of delicious, yet creative given the restrictions pasta dish for dinner... And have you ever tried the Mandarin orange Jello? It's not too bad really.
I'm still laughing about Mignon needing a good mow. Hahaha.
I think you should have your hub draw a face low on your belly, one with heavy eyebrows that takes advantage of your, um, natural "goatee."
Or better yet, remember when Teebs made the reproductive organs out of candy? Print those photos for your surgeon.
But fresh, homemade pasta is still OK, right? Think of all the delicious, delicious carbs you can feast on with abandon!
However, I know that as soon as you're told you can't have something, that's the thing you want. It's human nature, unfortunately. Sigh.
Canned fruit is ... all right, I guess (I, too, love mandarin oranges), but canned veggies? Eurghh.
Hoop tried to trim his um... lower lawn with some hair cutters and forgot to put a guard on it. So after one swipe he realized he had to do it all and now he's BALD. Not that I mind... But he's a little mortified. He keeps saying it looks like freshly plucked chicken.
Hmm... *tries valiantly to come up with something funny*
Clearly, my pubic hair and I need to get out more.
Thank you all for the chuckles and good wishes! I will keep them in mind when I'm in the recovery room after the procedure.
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