I have been wondering how it is that I do not vault out of bed most days full of gratitude and delight. I spent most of Friday wrangling with a stomach bug. No, actually, I spent most of Friday getting creamed by a stomach bug. I was expecting to feel a little draggy on Saturday and then normal on Sunday, but I was still tender-bellied and miserable yesterday. (Do you have that voice in your head that says, "Cancer. It's probably cancer"? How I hate that voice.) But today-- oh, joy, it felt so good to get up and work with a will.
Part of the work was grading, of course, but part of the work was also cooking a birthday dinner for my husband. His real birthday was yesterday, but if I had cooked him a birthday dinner yesterday it would have consisted of soda crackers and maybe some Jello. Today I swung by the grocery store to get him some fish, and wound up running with a white-and-gold sort of theme for the feast day.
We ate cipollini onions with chestnuts (white onions, white wine -- it's not the feast of the carmine conception), and cauliflower steaks, and baked potatoes, and obituary cheesecake. I suppose if I had wanted to be consistent about white and gold I could have bought tilapia (or something) and cooked it with saffron (or something), but they had beautiful salmon on sale and I was lured in but its lovely lipsticky coral color. It was yummy, too.
Do you hear that call? It's the voice of finals week, telling me to get back to my grading. More soon, friends...
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