I've been missing out on the cupcake rage. A cupcake the size of a Mini Cooper is not my cup of tea, mainly due to its extravagant size. Cupcake-shape bodies surround me and I admit to a little thickening in the region myself, although not due to cupcakes.
I went to see the doctor who delivered my children yesterday. I hadn't been since 1994. We were immediately recognizable to each other, and she still had Mark and Harry's birth announcements in my file. I had to tell the long story of my now 4.5 year battle with AML. God it sounds awful in the telling, especially to a medical professional. I'm still here, with minor bumbs and bruises. My blood pressure was high again since I've been off that med for nearly a week. Otherwise I'm in good girlie health. It's rare for me to show off photos of my family but I did. I brought one taken at my nephew's wedding that does us all justice.
Then I had a cupcake. I was looking for soft-serve ice cream on 8th Street but Circe snared me and I went into a shop where mega and mini cupcakes were displayed in all their glory. It was difficult to choose, but I went for the espresso beauty at $3.75. Mmmmm. After eating half, I felt nauseated and asked for a bag, not to barf in but to bring the rest home where I could enjoy it in several more sittings, perhaps with milk. Then I accidently took the wrong train and ended up in Brooklyn. Too much sugar?
Mark was coming for dinner so I swung into action making nachos and chicken curry. The curry was from a jar, thank goodness. Mark brought us up to date on his running, his classes and his extreme tiredness. He ate a lot of food.
We watched the Yankees lose to the Rays in an excellent game. I went to bed dreaming of cupcakes. Maybe I'll have another quarter tomorrow.