Where to start? Before the holiday it was work, work, work until the very last minute, late into the night, before packing up for a quick road trip to Palm Desert.
On Thanksgiving Day we checked out The Living Desert Preserve that now has a baby giraffe, born on the premises. I didn't get to see the baby, but seeing adults only a few feet away was breathtaking. Also fun to see was a lazy leopard, zebras, gazelles, hyenas, and meerkats.
Thanksgiving dinner was largely uneventful until David mistook a forkful of horseradish for mashed potatoes. All of a sudden we noticed David coughing into his napkin, but not a usual "I'm coughing up a lung" cough, it was more subtle, but he was hunched over, gripping the table and his face was blazing red. Something was wrong.
We offered the Heimlich but he shook his head, so we waited. The busboy and waitress watched anxiously - both with frightened expressions - and finally David held up a hand showing us a "thumbs up," while still coughing through the last of his own volcanic eruption.
Later that night he said he had a clarity of thought he hadn't had in many years. Maybe a forkful of horseradish is what I need to clear out the migraines in my head.
Another nasty headwrecker broke down the gate yesterday afternoon and I found myself at work without my meds. I thought some nap time in the usability lab would help, but there was no napping to be had and after an hour of laying there in agony, I thought I should try to make my way home.
I think now I had a migraine/stomach flu combo platter. I headed out to Bart with a plastic bag tucked into my pocket, just in case. I didn't feel too bad walking to Bart in the cold air, but once I was standing on a crowded train, things weren't lookin so good.
I thought I could make it to the first stop then get out & get some fresh air before continuing, but the body wasn't going to wait. A few minutes before the next stop I knew there could be no holding it off. I turned around to face the doors I was in front of and silently evacuated the contents of my stomach into a Target bag.
I recommend these bags for on-the-go booting. Good mil strength and the logo all over the outside helps disguise its contents. Somewhat.
And now what to do? I stood there facing the doors holding the bag under my mouth, waiting. Finally the train stopped and the doors - on the opposite side of the train - opened. I quietly said "excuse me" through my barf bag and made my way toward a trash can.
No one seemed to notice and no one said a word, but I suspected a few people may have seen something, but probably couldn't tell just what they were seeing. I wondered if this is how a drunk or a junkie might look stumbling off a train.
With some Purell and a napkin, I was almost all cleaned up, but there was no way I could get back on a train. Each one that came was more crowded than the last, and I was out of barf bags.
I wandered downstairs hoping to find a cab. Thankfully, one drove up just as I walked out. He took me the few miles down the road to my stop where I shuffled to my car and made it home. Good times.
