Sick-o

I can now say from experience . . food poisoning sucks. Not that it ever sounded pleasant. Rather than celebrate our promotions with a gourmet dinner as planned, New Girl and I parted ways last night - she to the restaurant, despite my absence, and I to my bathroom to rid my poor stomach of the taquito salad I had eaten for lunch. I'm still not 100% after a full day of sleeping, watching "Kindergarten Cop", sucking on ice cubes and sipping Gatorade, reading 100 pages of Emma, and finally nursing half a bowl of chicken and rice soup, but I'm clearly feeling much better. Tomorrow is Friday and New Girl and I have plans to attend my church's Newcomer Potluck. Considering my recent unluckiness when it comes to food, I'm less than excited. Like Dad always says, "It's called a potluck, because you're lucky if you find the pot that you brought". Right now, there isn't much that sounds appealing to me, including a stranger's green bean casserole, but I am looking forward to the fellowship.