Friday, May 11th, 2012

My Darling B and I stopped at Java Cat on the way home last night for gelato. That’s Italian for ice cream. You, as not only a regular reader but a rabid fan of my drivel will no doubt remember, I cannot ingest dairy products without dire consequences, unless I dose myself with enzymes.

That’s my problem: enzymes. I can’t make them any more, at least not the ones that prevent the disastrous aftereffects of dairy. Your body probably pumps them out by the bucket load, but I have to get them out of a bottle. I would eat your spleen like a starving hyena if it would allow me to eat ice cream again.

Can’t tell you how much I miss eating ice cream. I can stop off now and then to share in the joy of eating a small cup of it with My Darling B but, even if I make sure I take my enzymes, I know I’ll have to suffer a rude awakening the next morning, and smell like a rotten egg all through the next day. Just like the rest of life, it’s a trade-off. Do I want to experience a few minutes of pleasure, knowing I’m in for hours of what will be unpleasant not only for me but for everyone around me?

Last night, the answer was, Why, yes! Yes, I do! And so, gelato.

expansive | 8:10 pm CDT
Category: food & drink, My Darling B, O'Folks, play, restaurants | Tags:
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