Cookie Trauma x 2
So this week has been a terrible week in the world of cookies:
First, I have been a fan of the Mothers Circus cookies for a great while. Yea, even so long as to be my whole life.
These little delicious morsels used to come in a menagerie of pink and whiteness, greasy frosting sticking the animals to one another like some kind of conjoined twin tiger/elephant. Nothing but the little candy sprinkle balls to break up the monotony.
However, since the war on terror began, the color scheme was changed to reflect the current times. Which of course allows for a tri-color pallete of goodness.
Well, the crappy news is that these are no longer made- Mother’s Cookies- a 92 year old institution of American goodness- shut down operations in October, and I just opened my last bag of these things. Ever.
Cookie news #2:
I bought a bunch of cookie dough from Jon’s school. They were selling it as a fundraiser and I wanted to do my parental duty to help him earn a Wii or a wallet or whatever.
**an unopened container**
My dream, since childhood, has been to spend my days loafing around and eating cookie dough. Lately that has morphed into a goal to own a restaurant that serves cookie dough in bowls, with a spoon. In an attempt to test the viability of this theory, Tuesday I opted for a food-replacement plan. I ate cookie dough for lunch. Quite a bit of it. I was a tad hungry.
**Before**
**After**
It sure did taste good. I went back to work feeling mighty proud of myself. I was pursuing a lifelong dream, and felt pretty good about it.
For about 2 hours.
Then, my stomach suddenly started to hurt, and I began experiencing cold sweats and shivers. I drank some water (my favorite medicinal therapy) and began to feel bloated. By dinnertime, I was miserable.
That night, I managed to get some sleep, but in the morning, I felt like someone had kicked me in A) the head B) the ribs C) the kidneys and D) the lower pelvic region.
I made it through the day very slowly and carefully. Still drinking water like crazy. No appetite. I figured I might have a UTI, so I chugged a gallon of cranberry juice. Regardless of whatever it did to me (and I’m not going to tell you,) It certainly didn’t help my problem- which was at this point manifesting itself as an intestinal blockage or severe constipation.
The second night I pretty much spent huddling on the corner of the couch (I’ve called it my deathbed ever since) shivering and shaking. The pain was very intense. I used the time to alternatively research medical advice on the internet and make funeral plans. I got up in the morning and went to work. Had a non-productive day of sitting and groaning.
Thursday I decided to fight back, so I began eating. I ate a big fat #43 combo at La Casita for lunch, and for dinner I had a big goopy bowl o’ spaghetti. Still nothing. Belly hurts like 25 Timpview jocks have tracked me down and kicked my new wave butt. Sleep a little better.
Friday I kept at it. 3 big meals and nothing is happening. Work is great- people are starting to ask if I’m ok. I am much better, but still in pain. No appetite, belly still swollen like a stuffed hog. Sleep is better.
Saturday I start feeling kinda normal. Still carrying around this beach ball in my abdomen. Blockage intact. Dizzy. Drinking water. I spend part of the day wielding a chainsaw in the back yard.
Sunday is much better. Except for the not-back-to-normal part of it. Sleep seems to be better, as I have found a comfortable position on my side.
I’m not sure if it was food poisoning, Salmonella enteritidis, PMS, Lunar Effect, renal calculi or what. But it seems to finally be leaving me. sorta.
