My mom always knew I was sick when I would refuse a piece of cake.
I knew I was on the brink of death in the Adirondacks last week, when I couldn’t even stomach the yellow birthday cake with pink flowered icing that my friend Jim got for his wife Manisha for her birthday. Granted, when I felt better the next day, I had a piece for breakfast, but that night, it just was not going to happen.
Since last Monday, I’ve been suffering from flupneumoniabronchitiscold from hell that just won’t quit. It’s not swine flu. I refuse to have swine flu. I refuse to let my body be a little CDC science experiment. no sir.
So, this week, I ate out of necessity to stay alive, and not for the love of eating. I’m sure the food was great, but I couldn’t taste any of the jambalaya, fajitas, grilled EVERYTHING.
And as I stumbled home to my cabin one night, I almost became dinner for mama bear and her two baby bears. Although, I would probably not have been very tasty.
And, there were no fish to be seen in the lake. So no fish tacos either.
Once I fully recover from this evil plague of mucous that has infected my body (sexy right?), I’ll go back on my hunt, and I’ll need a fish taco, I need my comfort food.