A New Kind Of Penicillin

I am going to miss having an assortment of cookies in the house. There is something so    comforting about sitting at the kitchen table with a coffee/tea and a cookie reading the paper. It is like living in a Norman Rockwell painting, well, without the stink of oil paint or a visible brush stroke on your ass. You get my meaning though.      

The trouble with sitting at the table eating cookies, is that sooner rather than later you have to sit further and further away from the table due to an enlarged stomach. Before the holiday season, Louise and I had been on a pretty workable diet. Not a diet so much as it is limiting the amount of food that went into our mouths. I think the reason that we call it the "holiday season" is that we took a holiday from common sense. Okay, I took a holiday from common sense. I am getting back to my old, new ways just as soon as all of the good food is used up. Well, you can't very well toss it out now, can you.

I can remember that when I was growing up there were children starving in Europe so I had to eat my turnips and peas. I drew the line at liver. If it is between me eating liver and European kids starving, there is simply no contest. I didn't know those French and Polish kids, but I do know how awful liver is. Things haven't changed too much in the intervening years. The Europeans seem to have found a way too feed everyone more or less, but there are many other countries that I need to eat for.

I think that somehow I have overdosed on good food. How can that be? Shouldn't I just be thrilled about all of the goodies and my being able to eat them? Damned right I should! I think there is something in the constitution about the right to be able to eat anything that is either above or below us on the food chain. Humans come from a long line of scavengers and Canadians in particular aren't particular. Be that as it may, I seem to be experiencing some discomfort and as loath as I am to admit it, I think my intake of food is to blame.

My mouth tastes kind of like an old pair of socks that you might find in a high school locker. I have eaten a lot lately, but I am sure I haven't eaten any socks. Well, pretty sure... My stomach feels kind of queasy constantly. Sort of like the feeling you get when you are one and a half glasses of wine past your limit. You just know that sometime in the not too distant future your stomach is going to go all Vesuvius on you. Oh well, I suppose that this is just a cross that I have to bear at this time of year. Maybe I am suffering for your sins. It happened before, it can happen again.

I think that I won't have to show any will power at all, because the refrigerator is starting to thin out and what is left has greenish, yellow fur growing on it. You can still eat most of it, but I try to stay away from the stuff that is currently alive. Hey, maybe the mold will be like a new kind of penicillin that makes your mouth taste like a mountain stream and will quell the uprising in your stomach. I remain hopeful.

I wonder if I will get to name it?