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We had a holiday gathering of high school friends post-Christmas and I found myself apologizing for not owning most normal staples. "Sorry, we don’t have any soda. Or ice. Or chips".
" I decided not to order pizza as planned, but I have roast duck, chicken curry, tofu veggies, salad & green tea muffins…"
my amigos commented that,
"Helen can’t just have Orange Juice. It has to be volcanic organic Italian Blood Orange juice."
The lemons couldn’t be normal lemons, they were organic Meyer lemons, chocolate has to be ScharffenBerger, whiskey has to be the aged-12 years-buy-it at-Duty-free kind, hot cocoa is organic free trade chocolate, beer must be imported, and tea is organic and/or imported and you can choose from 7 kinds.
Upon reflection, I realized it was actually a tad embarassing.
One of our favorite little put downs as Jana would say is "Ooooooh. I see, you’re one of those SPECIAL people".
’nuff said.
"HM" is the codeword I like to offer male friends as advice. As in: "Flee for your life (or pocketbook) that woman is totally HM - High Maintenance."
I prefer to see myself as anti-HM, I like to think being a tomboy who grew up reading comic books and climbing stuff cured me of any latent princessa tendencies.
But I suppose we all have our moments of "specialness" and mine oft hit me while shopping for food.
Or like tonight, after spending 2 full weekends with snotty, drooly, beautiful little neices…I am feeling alarmingly unwell. I am downing tangerines, Airborne tabs, hot tea and Advils madly.
My spouse is not particularly sympathetic since he points out I am the wierdo who chose to run a 10K by the water in SF this morning despite the threatening germies and scratchy throat. I take total responsibility for that choice, and hey, I had a fantastic time. I showed up in the morning nursing hot green tea & clad in my lumpy head to toe fleece, 2 pairs of pants and my wild womyn mittens.
The usual swarm of tourists were there bundled up in gloves, coats, hats and it felt amazing to run in sight of both bridges, and to work up enough heat to unearth the running bras which are my preferred gear (maintaining that belly tan through the winter is one of my completely pointless & vain goals. Uh-oh. starting to sound HM…)
However if you think B and I are nuts, you should have seen the half dozen or so hardy souls diving off the pier in speedos and swim caps! Wow.
The tourists looked at all us runners like we were nuts. A woman running next to me glanced over at the near-naked swimmers and said "now THAT is just insane."
So hey, that sort of thing is all relative!
That over-read hypochondriac in my head currently whispers that this is no regular, normal flu.
No- surely it must be Sepsis! Sepis, yes, that must be it.
http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000666.htm
Good bye, cruel world it would serve me right to go out in history as some total freak medical case study…
but ’til I absolutely drop I’ll keep seeking those special treats and experiences…(and fighting the most unglamourous, non HM fights!)
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Wow! Greets! Really amazing. keep working! Tnx! Saw!
pavlo 11.06.08 @ 1:09 am