Yesterday, I hit a wall after walking into the lobby of a building downtown and then suddenly lurching over to throw up in a big fake potted plant. A man in the lobby gave me a look that said to me, "Noon, and you're drunk already? Don't get on the elevator with me, hobo."
But the hormones seem to be making their descent into comfortable territory, and today I feel like...900,000 bucks! (I don't want to exaggerate, here.) I woke up very excited to find myself not drooling, and got up and did a dance around the living room, and then Dave and I headed out to give a whirl to eating lunch at my favorite restaurant. It was a miracle, I tell you. I was feeling like, I can eat anything! We drove to the restaurant and I was practically singing in anticipation. But then we walked into the restaurant and it was packed with people, all of whom had different foods in front of them, creating a dense, troubling medley of aromas that knocked me offa my cloud.
So we went to the grocery store, and I decided that I wanted to bring home a little variety of pastries. Metropolitan Market has a fine little selection: brioches, different kinds of perfect croissants, tarts, doughnuts, cinnamon rolls. I loaded up my little box and was digging in my purse to get a pen to write the prices on the top, when an old man wheeled up to me.
Old Man (in a low voice, leaning in close): What are you doing?
Me (thinking he's being conspiratorial and fun): Getting some pastries!
Old Man (suspicious): Getting some pastries?
Me: (blink, blink)
Old Man: Getting them or BUYING them?
Me (getting it, and irritated): .........BUYING THEM.
Old Man: Okay, then.
Wow. Wow, old pastry fart. Way to patrol the aisle. I think he thought I was stuffing pastries into my purse, rather than getting a writing implement. For the rest of our stay in the store, every now and then I erupted in one of those whiny baby mocking mutters, "...getting them or buying them...."
Doo dee doo dee DOO dee doo.
Now that I'm more fit and more fiddley, I am ON IT in regards to The Icebox, Part Three. I'm working on it right now. I thank you for your patience!
And thanks for your kind comments and concern about the morning sickness freakshow. Much appreciated.
4 comments:
Gasp!
Please let me NEVER be a crotchety old busy body (or as Magazine Man would say, "busty body") that goes around accusing sweet little pregnant ladies of shoplifting.
I wonder how much jail time one would get for pastry theft?
i love a woman who can work brioche into a blog...
you should have stuffed an eclair in his face...
gee whiz! did this guy work there or was he just a nosy shopper?
He was a nosy shopper!
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