Sick, Must Indulge

I have no idea why someone googling “Sarah Jessica Parker’s grandfather filip” would end up on my blog, dear reader. Again, I digress.

Self is awaiting arrival of dear hubby with take-out food from Su Hong. Since hubby switched from office in Fremont to office in Mountain View this week, am practically discombobulated by all the possible places self can have him stop for take-out on his way home.

His previous office, in Fremont, was near the approach to Dumbarton Bridge, and he liked to get right on 84 and go straight on home without sidetrips. Since Goldilock’s and Red Ribbon were within 10-mile radius, could sometimes ask him to stop by for palabok or leche flan or anything else Filipino self happened to be desiring at that moment.

But, on to the new. Now, on his way home, hubby passes no Filipino restaurants. Will miss the chance to get sinigang (would be really good right now, with this nasty cough self has developed) or pansit.

Instead, there is Draeger’s. Could ask him to stop by for some of that yummy peach pie of theirs. There is also Whole Foods, but take-out there is expensive: a single lamb shank cost us nearly $20, last time we tried take-out (They charge by weight, and apparently the lamb shank bone is quite weighty). Hmmm, let’s see, what else? Mr. Chow’s CLOSED, we noticed a week or so ago. Too bad — cheap Chinese food is a rarity in these parts. I mean, in the Redwood City/ Menlo Park area. Not sure whether self likes new Vietnamese restaurant that opened in place of old fave Hong Kee Noodle House on Broadway. Almost at the last minute, remember SU HONG!!

Pick up the phone: luckily, hubby is still in office (or in a bar, self tactfully does not inquire). Ask in my sweetest voice: Could you possibly pass by for some food on the way home?

Amazing, hubby says he wants to take me out to dinner. Why does he never think of this when I am well?

Self protests that throat aches and cold air is not good for throat. (Yes, dear reader, it is still cold here, which is twice as bad as being cold if one were in New York. Somehow, since this is Ca- lee — for — nee — a, self takes any cold weather occurring after April 15 as personal affront, becomes whine-y and self-pitying. Must avoid conversation at all costs, am liable to snap/vent)

Let’s see, what can one do on a (probably) rainy, cold weekend when one is sick? Self could putter around in the garden, scattering Osmocote on the roses. Self could plant the small assortment of new varieties of heuchera self purchased almost a month ago. Self could watch a movie! (But hubby asserts he does not want to watch a movie with me if self is sick — as he fears self will transmit germs while sitting next to him, coughing, in movie theatre)

Self could prepare lesson plans and grade papers (!!@@##)

Or self could try writing a short story while hubby is watching a game on flat-screen HDTV . . . After all, am so inspired by the current reading matter, The O. Henry Prize Stories of 2006. Absolutely loved David Mean’s Sault Ste. Marie (liked the story he had in Best American Short Stories, too: that one was about a family disintegrating under the eyes of the watchful family pet, a goldfish)

Whatever happens, must be in absolutely tip-top shape by Monday, as Dean will not take kindly to self’s calling in sick, even though self is really is sick. If still coughing, must pack lozenges and perhaps tote cup of tea to classroom, and assign confusing groupwork (notice this class loves to have me talk, and talk, and talk — the better to pass notes to each other under the table).

Stay tuned, dear blog reader. Stay tuned.

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