In which I discuss food, friends, and, surprisingly, Tim

If you are what you eat, then I am dead fish and seaweed, because this has been the week of the formerly-wet menu.
I have eaten sushi twice and trout once, and I am eagerly anticipating another lunch date, for yet more sushi. Because, for a poverty stricken single mom in a depressed economy, I sure eat out a lot.

I am also still neither sick, nor well. I am sort of scratchy in my voice, and taking large quantities of Vitamin AirBorne. But it's still no more than a threat. I refuse to admit that I have any sort of a cold. Tim's got a heck of a cold, though, poor guy. No man should be that good-looking when he feels so rotten. He walked in oozing attitude this evening.
I said, "Gosh how do you feel?"
"Terrible. Thanks for asking." He's always polite, even when grumpy.
"Are you 'terrible' because of something specific? Or just 'terrible' on principle?" I thoughtfully asked him.
"Principle."
"Well, then, at least you can admit it." I commented.
But, though he always seems to be a man who sticks to his principles, he certainly didn't stick to the 'terrible' very well. He was laughing and making macabre jokes about his own death. He can be quite amusing, what with the dry sense of humor, and the virus.

Today I saw my friend Jessie and her baby girl.

Jessie is one of those from the Old Group. The Old Group is a cult of sisterhood that evolved from a rather innocent beginning. A bible study, truth be told.
Years ago, when dinosaurs walked the earth, and I was married, I met on a weekly basis with a group of women. We would study our bibles, and discuss our lives, and mostly confide the darker sides of ourselves. We made casseroles when one among us had a baby....which was frequently. We cleaned one another's homes, helped each other move, and fumbled through some really devastating times. We laughed a lot. Cried quite a bit, too. We ate frequently, hid the children during a tornado, and partied on the Island. Ah, good times. We did all this, and more, for 10 years. Every. Single. Week. Well, not the tornado, that only happened once.

The result is, as I irreverently called it, a Cult of Sisterhood to rival the Ya-Yas. (If you aren't familiar with the Ya-Yas, then you need to get the movie right this instant. It's The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood, and it was written about us. Only we have more bible, and less hard liquor. Well, more bible, anyway.)
So, as I was saying, I saw Jessie today. And while I was at her house, Heidi called from Virginia. Heidi is in the cult, too.
(Are you girls going to be mad at me for calling it a 'cult'? Remember the time we really were called that by the pastor's wife at my church? Oh, that was almost very funny! Perhaps I shall save that indelicate story for another day.)
I am now so far from the original idea of the story, that I have no idea where I was really going with it. Except, I like Jessie a lot. Heidi's great, too. So are the rest of ya'all. Group hug! I raise my NyQuil to salute you, my friends.