The Hair Of The Dog

I woke up with a hangover.

From all of the bread that I ate last night.

I not only ate it. But I dreamed about it. Read about it on another blog. And decided that if I ever have a wedding vow renewing ceremony that I will insist on having a bread table. Instead of candy or other sweets.

Then we can all run laps on the dance floor so that the carbs will not go to waste.

Except for I will not have a dance floor - because my body just can't dance.

Or a wedding vow renewing ceremony. It seems like an awful waste of money when we can just float around in our pool rafts this summer, eating BBQ sandwiches and drinking tropical drinks, and tell each other "I love you".

If I haven't said it before... I will say it again..... "We are simple folk."

But back to my hangover.

I didn't have time for it. I have important things to do today. Like get the gray in my hair colored and go to the gym.

So, I did what any responsible person would do.

I had the "hair of the dog that bit me". And ate some more bread.

Except for this time it was my other favorite. From Great Harvest. Low-carb Dakota bread.

I tried it for the first time on my birthday. It is full of seeds and nuts and healthy goodness.

And is just as soft and pillowy as the cheddar garlic.

I toasted it. Put a little butter on it. And added two eggs. Over easy.

It cured me right away.

And I need to mention that the eggs were "farm fresh". I got them yesterday during my grocerypalooza.

Eggs are one of the areas that I will NOT scrimp in. All because of something I read years and years ago. So, I usually buy some pretty healthy eggs. But these eggs not only blew my skirt up.... but off!! I could taste a difference.

At least I think I could. I was being mesmerized by the seeds on the top of the toast.

But it got me thinking. Maybe we should get some chickens as pets. They could live outside just as Kev would prefer. And they would save us money because I eat eggs just about every day. I could promise Kev that I would do all the work of taking care of them... and then "forget" all about them within a week.

Kev would have no choice but to step in. He would be so much better at it than me anyway.

And I would be able to eat fresh eggs for the rest of my life.

Sounds like the perfect situation.

Until Kev insists that he doesn't have the time or patience to take care of anything else but me. And the eleventy hundred plants that he has spread throughout the house. Plants that seem to keep multiplying. By the hour.

On second thought.... Maybe I should request a pet that will eat the plants.

And then I will just keep driving to Greenville for my farm fresh eggs.