It Ain't Easy Being Green

Donning the rubber gloves and checking out my dog's nether regions was enough of an unpleasant experience for one night. He was really quite good for the entire session. Although, I don't know if I really helped him. I did some research on the web for reasons my dog might have the "itch"...one common reason that surfaced was boredom. Oh gah! I now have to entertain my dog lest he chew his leg off! What kind of horrible pet owner am I that my dog is so bored that he turns to self mutilation for some kind of stimulation? So now I've had to put down my knitting to, you know, play ball with him and take him on a walk. Such a burden.

But the unpleasantries did not end with the wound tending. I LOVE green salsa. LOVE. IT. I'm just crazy over it and can finish an entire bottle in a sitting. However, I've come to discover that the green salsa is not such a big fan of me. I don't know when this began but it is a cruel twist of fate. And approximately every six months I decide that I should try it again. I convince myself that last time the horrible pain I suffered was due to something else I ate, or that I hadn't been sleeping well recently, or that my stomach acids hadn't matured enough to handle the green stuff. And I'm always sure this time will be different. So the sweet husband that Brian is, he bought me a big bottle of the good stuff at the local Mexican grocery. And last night it called my name, beckoning me to give it one more shot, promising me this time would be different. I was skeptical but I thought I could maybe have just a little bit mixed with ranch...the milk in the ranch dressing would mellow out the green salsa right?

Fast forward to 2:00 in the morning where I am curled up on the floor of the bathroom praying for a swift death. I am convinced that the green salsa, upon hitting my stomach lining, has transformed into the mighty fist of the very angry hulk - and he's taking it out on my innocent tummy. This is how it always goes. Me lying there on the bathroom floor, praying that if there is a God (and at this point I'm not convinced there is one because a loving God would surely not have let green salsa ever come into existence) that I would please like to vomit immediately and purge myself of this poison. I don't think that's so much to ask. If God can part the Red Sea for the Israelites I don't think it will take too much heavy lifting on God's part to help me to disgorge the contents of my stomach. This might be sacrilege - but at 2:00 a.m. I simply don't care. But there was no relief to be found, only Reggie, worriedly licking my face and tormenting me with his concern. I crawled back into bed and, thankfully, found sleep.

I am writing this blog to remind myself that, should I EVER get the urge to eat green salsa again, I should be prepared for great misery. PUT THE JAR DOWN FUTURE LISA! This will not end well for you.