Last week a small miracle happened. Prepare yourselves. I thought I was doomed for a spout of food poisoning, but never got it. Whew! Let me back it up and first explain that any meat slightly under cooked freaks me out to no extent. If something looks even a bit suspiciously pink I pass it around the table getting every one's opinion. I take their feedback and then determine if I feel it's worth the risk. I'm not at all about living on the edge when it comes to my meat. And as my mom is reading this she's going "Oh for crying out loud I should have banned Dateline from the house!!!" And she's right because now the hotel beds, well that episode freaked me out too.
So, last week our sweet and very generous friends took us out for a birthday dinner to a common all-American chain restaurant. I won't say it's name because there is nothing worse than hearing a gross restaurant story and then having to go eat there while thinking about that stupid story the whole time. We've eaten at this place for a long time now and have no need for a menu, just the grilled chicken salad that's oh so yummy. The meal came and I took a couple of bites not really paying much attention. I bit in this last time and noticed the chicken was rather Barbie pink. That can't be good. My stomach dropped and I thought "well that's it...I'm either going to die before my birthday or celebrate it with my head in the loo". I passed it to boy, then passed it to friend 1 and friend 2. Conclusion: "I wouldn't eat anymore". And I'm all like thanks Sherlocks, but what about the live chicken that I just swallowed?
The waiter was extremely apologetic, took it off the tab and I sat and prayed silently that I'd be spared of the sickness. And whoa the Lord is good because I made it out alive.
And there you have it the 2008 birthday miracle.