I’m a girl

If that fact that my toolbox is actually a pink and purple Caboodle wasn’t enough to tip you off, this dinner should be:

I’ve always been one of those people who blots their pizza to get the extra grease off, which is really just a strategy I use to justify eating more. But, ever since I started getting all health-conscious, I’ve been a little wary of a few of my favorite things, like pizza and beer and Mexican food and ice cream and everything that is good in this world. But Matt requests pizza, oh, I don’t know, every week or so, and today I finally caved and said we could get it. And then, I got brilliant – I could get my own pizza WITHOUT THE CHEESE. Talk about a strategy to justify eating more. No cheese easily means that I can double or triple my usual portion, right?


Oh, and, for the record, I know that lots of people (vegans) order cheeseless pizza for moral and/or ethical reasons (luckily, I don’t have those problems). So, I’m not saying all vegans are really girls (although, really…), I’m just saying it’s very “oh, I’m watching my figure” of me to order a cheeseless pizza. Especially when I admit that I actually filled up on salad (not my fault – I made it for three people and two of them opted out of my delicious spring greens, HAND-SLICED pineapple, and craisin creation, so I went back  to finish it), and I put one of those slices back. And you know what? It felt good. Mostly because it left me plenty of room for


Here’s what I can say: cheeseless pizza is actually really good. It’s very saucy. It does, however, make it harder to ignore the fact that the vegetables at this pizza place are not of the highest quality.

So, my mom got here fine, I risked my life driving two hours through torrential rain and hail to pick her up but I’m sure she’s grateful. Not grateful enough to eat my lovingly prepared salad, but WHATEVER. Of course, once I picked her up, the weather calmed down and it looked like I was lying.

We made it to Lawrence for an awesome dinner at Ingredient (I ate that ground turkey salad with the tortilla bowl that blew my mind last time), and because I am a loving and thoughtful partner, I brought home a pizza for Matt.

Today, even though I was on vacation, I went into work for a meeting (I give and I give…) and then, this afternoon, I finally go to meet my new pulmonologist. My experience wasn’t any better today, as the same receptionist was there. We had this really great chat:

Receptionist: Oh. We don’t have your medical history form.

Me: I filled it out on Monday, my appointment was rescheduled.

Receptionist: I’ll call the records people. [calls records people] Okay. They lost it.

Me: Okay, so…

Receptionist: So, you fill it out again.

Me: Okay, there was a lot of information on that form, so, I don’t know, is it just… out there?

Receptionist: They lost it.

Me: Okay. I’ll fill it out again.

Receptionist: [blinking without expression] I feel horrible.

It was so strange. It was like I was a character in Bad Waiting Room Experience: The Sequel.

Though, I will say – I was the only one in there without an oxygen tank, except for one other guy, and I’m pretty sure he coughed up blood. So, comparatively, I’m a ray of shining, healthful light.

Anyway, so, I waited for an hour and a half to see this guy, and I had to be entertained somehow, so I ate a Clif Kid bar and took pictures of myself with my cell phone. I learned that I have huge bags under my eyes. I think I’m tired. Then, he came in for all of four minutes and didn’t even know why I was there. I had to tell him to read the lab results my doctor sent over. So then he ordered five tests, including cool hospital show types,  like a CT scan. Then I punched him out.

Not really, but I so wanted to.

Then I was comforted at the salon by Aveda’s Comforting Tea. Apparently it relaxed me so deeply that I: a) got all my hair cut off and b) said Yes to pizza. And cake.

Clearly, I’m still working through things.

Tomorrow is this. I’m excited. A trip to Wamego means an excuse to buy cookies, fancy foodstuffs, and weird Oz-themed wine.


3 Responses to I’m a girl

  1. Donna says:

    Welcome Marilyn!!!!

  2. arielle says:

    I have a very small hammer that has an even smaller enamel pink and purple flowered handle. But I so wish I still had my caboodle.

    And that cake looks very good.

  3. Jenny says:


    She’s touched by your welcome. Also, she was fascinated that you knew her name. I told her you were a genius.

    Wow, I want that hammer. I’m going to look for one today. The cake is good – it’s dangerous to live behind a grocery store with excellent baked goods and to have a partner who walks over “for a snack” and routinely comes home with an entire cake. Or a half-dozen cupcakes. Or a box of cookies.

    Oh. If only I could convince myself that it was okay to eat cake for breakfast, I’d do that now.

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