Thursday, April 8, 2010
I am sorry for getting so upset at you the other day. I could have sworn your delivery date was Tuesday, not Wednesday. I hope I didn't make you feel too badly. You have to understand - I've been hurt before. I've tried to go to the Portland Farmer's Market on a Sunday. I've tried to go to Gartner's on a Monday. I got scared, that maybe our serendipidous first encounter was too good to be true. I hope you know how excited I was to see you arrive right after me in the evening, and how much I needed that Caramel Cashew ice cream to keep me from stabbing myself in the eye with a spoon (it was a bad, bad, rotten day preceeding it).
Tonight, Schwan's fish sticks and homemade tartar sauce. I remember mixing up tartar sauce in my mom's kitchen on fish stick night, chopping pickles as small as I could make them and whipping them into a frenzy with mayo. Grown up additions - fresh lemon, and a splash of Tabasco sauce.
In other news, a skirt that fit me two years ago no longer did this morning. Damn it. Something must be done - but then, who wants to read about my microwaved Smart Ones and half-cup allowance of couscous alongside a couple pieces of steamed chicken?
Hmm. This is a problem.