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So did I tell you I had the flu the day before we left on vacation?
Not that it really matters, or that it's a story really even worth telling.

But I did. Bad. Because that's just how my life goes. And it serves me right to insist on celebrating and early Christmas with our friends who's 3 children had just recovered from the very same flu. "Oh they are fine. I want them to open their gifts. We won't stay long."

As we say at The Restaurant - no good deed goes unpunished.

Anyway.

I shot up in bed exactly 24 hours before our flight was due to taxi down the runway, and I made haste to the bathroom where I had the unfortunate experience of tossing my cookies for a good solid 15 minutes. Which I know is really gross. And I know it really is too much information. But if I learned nothing else in Kindergarten it was the art of sharing.

So yeah - the cookie tossing. It happened pretty aggressively all day long - it was like a scene from the exorcist in my house. The Poor Husband was scrambling to stay out of my way and make sure I had open receptacles at the ready. And he did nice things like get me 7-Up and Gatorade. And Imodium. Because - you know - I needed that too.

All I could think about was my vacation to The Big City, and all I could think about was the Trick our staff was going to pull off in my absence. I had to make phone calls; whiney, wimpy phone calls leaving instructions and recipes and schedules. And I had to pack.

At 3:00 in the afternoon I finally called The Doctor and begged for something - anything - to stop the madness. I had a plane to catch, and I had no desire to toss any more cookies as we taxied down the runway.

And I didn't, thank God. But I had a close call over North Dakota when the small child next to me on the plane picked his nose with such vengeance I was convinced he would be brain damaged by the time we crossed over the Central Time zone.

And they say vacations are good for a person.

And the reason I felt the need to share that information is because right now, exactly a month later I have a cold. A nice little infection making my eyes bulge and making my voice sound like a Jazz singer in a smoky honky-tonk somewhere in the Bayou.

So I am a little - cranky. But not bad cranky. I would say it's more of a state of indifference - unable to care much.

So I stayed out of the kitchen and away from the customers and did a little office work. And on my way out a couple was just getting up from Table 3, and I asked, "How was everything tonight?" I even smiled, a big swollen sinused smile.

He shot me a glare and said "Well you sure as Hell didn't hear me damn complain did you?"

And he wasn't joking.

Normally I would have smiled and thanked them for coming to try and hurry on the awkward moment. But instead I shrugged my shoulders and, "Well I am glad you have no complaints but I am sorry the food wasn't good enough to stop you from being a cranky old bastard."

He stood for a minute in shock, and then he threw his head back and laughed. He patted me on the back, which I think maybe dislodged part of my lung, and thanked me for a wonderful meal.

And you know, I guess now that I think of it I am not so much in a state of indifference as I am just a congested and weary smartass.

Posted by Foodwhore at January 28, 2008 10:29 PM

Posted by: BC at January 29, 2008 05:54 AM

Posted by: AuntJone at January 29, 2008 07:42 AM

Posted by: ntsc at January 29, 2008 10:11 AM

Posted by: Raging Lunatic at January 29, 2008 11:38 AM

Posted by: JJ at January 29, 2008 03:41 PM

Posted by: tomorrow at January 29, 2008 04:09 PM