fish fry fish fry going to the fish fry
Guess what we had? Oh guess! It was a magical, blistery thing!
Nora is just now getting over hand-foot-mouth disease, otherwise known as the Coxsackie virus. She was out of sorts on Saturday night, but we had company and I was drinking wine, so I assumed it was simple crankiness and put her to bed early. The next day, LT and I are hungover and Nora is a WRECK with a capital ECK, screaming and crying and being completely inconsolable no matter what I did. Her forehead felt hot to my not-very-well-trained hand, even though my shitty cheap-ass thermometer said that Nora was cool as a cucumber. This is started to scare little hungover me because screaming and crying is Not Nora.
Then I noticed: hey, she's got red bumps on her hands. And on her feet. And in her mouth. Hence the name! Although “hand-foot-mouth” sounds entirely too benign if you ask me. It sounds like a finger-play, on the order of head-shoulders-knees-and-toes. It does not begin to describe accurately the hell that is a feverish toddler who won't eat, won't nap, won't play, and won't do much of anything except lie in your lap and scream. And then you cry as well, big fat hungover bad-mommy tears all over her steamy-hot head, because she feels like crap and you cannot do anything about it, so much for being her parent. You loser. You loser who cannot even stick with your first-person narrative, and have to go switching pronouns all of a sudden. What's with that?
Luckily, drama of that magnitude was only for about a day. We cancelled school and the babysitter for a few days owing to Nora's contagious plague, and she still is not too enthusiastic about any food except ice cream, but she is remarkably cheerful for someone who has BLISTERS ON HER TONGUE. If I had BLISTERS ON MY TONGUE my entire web page would look like this, for days:
BLISTERS ON MY TONGUE! BLISTERS ON MY TONGUE! HOLY JESUS FUCK, BLISTERS ON MY TONGUE! BLISTERS ON MY TONGUE!
BLISTERS ON MY TONGUE!
And so on.
I decided to search for the words “incident report” and got this neat form on avalanches, this one that is solely about hitting a deer with your car, and this intriguing document from the Nevada Department of Corrections, which includes a recipe for an “alternative meal” to be served to any “food-abusive inmate.” It's a sort of meat loaf. With cabbage. And lard.
Besides the complete emotional tailspin that my kid's relatively minor, self-limiting illness sent me into, I also recently (a) had hand sanitizer at the ready, at a bar, when my drinking companion expressed the mildest desire for some; and (b) found myself reading the Jewel ad at my desk during lunchtime. And actually taking note of sales and buy-one-get-one-free deals. This might not seem so weird and scarily suburban if you knew about a weird quirk of mine, which is that I love to read about food while I eat food. I will often go and find a cookbook or gourmet magazine to flip through while eating breakfast or lunch, instead of my current book, particularly if I'm reading something Serious.
One really great thing about the Jewel ad was that it proclaimed a deal on packages of hot dogs, and then in tiny letters said, “Excludes Beef.” I encourage you to say that out loud right now, because all the vowels combine to make it a very much fantastic thing to say. An extra bonus is that “excludes beef” sounds a tiny bit like “excuse me.” The next time you are pushing your way through a crowd but don't feel particularly sincere about politeness, you can just say “Excludes beef! Excludes beef!” over and over again, and probably get away with it.
More interviews, ick. It is way too early to speak to people coherently. I may have to say “excludes beef” and step out for more coffee in the middle of it. During yesterday's interview the candidate, who had been subtly sniffling for a few minutes, asked for some Kleenex. I did not have any Kleenex (although I do have hand sanitizer!), so I went and borrowed some from a coworker. Then I enlisted her help in spreading the rumor that I had made a candidate cry during the interview.
—mimi double tall nonfat smartypants