I was told that unless that was the title of tonight's blog, Mr X wasn't going to unlock the door, while I danced behind him, regretting every bit of tonight's dinner out. So fine. Yes, I made mistakes, in my choice of restaurant and in my choice of entree. Over a long, alcohol-fueled conversation, he might have tried to convince me that at some level my choice of dinner companion was also wrong, but I refused to concur. I refuse to regret that much of my life. But saying yes, 3 Margaritas was an okay substitute for Cyclhops, or that pollo con crema would be okay when I recognized instantly that "special Mexican sour cream sauce" was code for "there is wheat flour in this, steer clear," these were absolutely mistakes. As we pulled up to the house, I said I needed him to hurry and unlock the door because "remember when I said that was most likely a Bechamel sauce?" It was then that he insisted I use our favorite phrase to keep us from getting upset when Murray does his thing on the floor of the garage (on a daily basis) as my title. I have fulfilled the terms of our bargain. He did unlock the door, and I did race inside, and I did have the expected response to eating a sauce that most likely had wheat in it. This is going to be a long night. I'll spare you further details, and I will not refer to this incident tomorrow unless hospitalization results (so you're probably safe).
Despite how frantically the evening is ending, this had been a remarkably good day. And I mean a really, significantly, write details on the calendar sort of good day. I was invited to a local furniture shop that has been around in Boulder county for 45 years. They wanted to meet up with realtors in town to talk about how to refer our clients to them, and what they had to offer, and they provided coffee and danishes (since they did sell primarily Danish modern furniture). Not as many realtors showed as they had planned for, so I got plenty of one-on-one time with one of the sales women. She was very cool, and at one point she suggested that on a Saturday, I schedule an "ask a realtor" day, so that I could come in and talk to their customers about buying and selling houses and things they can do to stage, etc. I am thrilled by this suggestion. I want to do this. Also, before I left, the person who forwarded the invitation to the breakfast came to the store, and in conversation she mentioned a fundraiser she's part of. For Meals on Wheels, they are selling tablescapes at the country club. You put together a place setting for 4 on a card table, with tablecloths, dishes, glasses, and flatware. It can be new or vintage, themed or just artistic. I said yes, I am totally in for a table. I need to decide on a theme. First suggestion was actually a sort of family game night/turn off the wi-fi night, with snack plates, mugs, and board games. It's intriguing, but I have a few weeks yet to decide whether anything else feels more compelling. I know that the lady I spoke with all morning is doing an Asian theme with her settings, another person is doing a picnic basket (with paper plates), and there was talk of donating vintage crystal pieces and things like that. I have lots of room to play here.
Finally, I am amazed that after a day like I've had, I've made it this far and still have oodles of energy. This is further proof to me that all the things I am doing to treat my autoimmune disease is having a significant impact. Over dinner I pointed out that even as recently as October or November, I needed entirely down days, like all-day-no-shower-can't-brush-my-teeth sort of down, at least once a week, maybe twice. Now my down days last about 4 hours, and I rebound to nearly normal levels of health (note I said "nearly") very quickly now. I had a big morning, and I immediately came home to burn off my nervous energy by pulling out all the piled up debris on the table side of my kitchen, scrubbing and mopping everything, and even bleaching my trash can (it was due). I couldn't find a good place to stop, so I didn't. For something like five hours, I kept going, cleaning, mopping, wiping, tossing, schlepping to the outside trash and recycle bins, and more all that time. Even when I finally tried to sit down and rest, I kept trying to tidy up my usual spot in the living room. I couldn't stop. I'm not sure I've had one of these days since before my diagnosis. This is absolute victory. I can't keep quiet about it.
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