Sunday, March 15, 2009

Have a little faith...

It's a beautiful day outside. The sun is shinning and spring is in the air. Life is good. There is a St. Patrick's Day parade on the streets. People are wearing long, leprechaun, goofy green hats. There is a marching band, fire trucks and police cars cramming the streets. I had to push my way through the crowds just like all the other city goers. The only difference is that people were slightly more understanding towards me because I get around on four wheels instead of two legs. I've never been a huge part-taker of St. Patrick's Day festivities. I'm not a big drinker, but I like how the day brings people together to have fun. McDonald's has a green shamrock milkshake every St. Patrick's Day. Growing up, I tried them a few times and loved them. I go crazy for most things mint. If I happen to be close to a McDonald's this week, I may celebrate with a green milkshake. They are only around once a year, so why not?

The Observer came to visit yesterday. My intestinal troubles were solved shortly after he arrived. He must be a good luck charm. Being a bright day, we decided to go for a quick shopping trip to the mall. I picked up an itunes card for my Mom and a card. The Observer had to buy rye for a friend's birthday gift. He was worried when he learned that he bought a different type of rye than his friend usually drinks. I told him that, when people want to drink, they aren't too picky. He's a good friend. We went to the drugstore on our way home. The Observer needed body wash and I needed a card. I saw the Observer buy Cadbury mini eggs - my favourite Easter treat. I love those crunchy, coated, chocolate eggs so much that it could almost be classed as an addiction. The sight of mini eggs makes my heart beat faster....seriously. Once home, the Observer gave me eggs and a box of Splenda, my other guilty pleasure. In October, he bought me a large box and instinctively knew I was out. What a guy....



When dinner-time came, I knew the Observer felt like going to a restaurant. He loves the Pickle Barrel. I was fixated on having a vegetarian sub. I was determined to have the same dinner two days in a row. It's weird, I'll admit. We argued because I wanted the Observer to go ahead and reserve a table while I quickly ate my sub. After much tension, that's exactly what I did. The whole time I ate, I felt guilty for being so stubborn. I almost choked on my sub and thought to myself, "Serves you right, you anal witch."


Once at the restaurant, I found the Observer at the back waiting to eat. We resolved our issues. Starving as he was, he was still pretty understanding. The Observer ordered mini hamburgers to start, pasta that came with salad and a milkshake. He was too full to finish his pasta and milkshake, so I ate all his left-overs. All that disputing and I might as well have had dinner with the Observer. Sometimes, I am too complex, even for me.

I saw my attendant who prayed that I would have a bowel movement. I told her that her prayers worked. She smiled and told me that I would have found relief anyway. Maybe so, but a complicated girl like me has to believe in the power of a little faith.


- OCG

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