1. Shorts
It was afternoon after work. We were changing into comfy clothes. I had just put on a beige pair of shorts and was buckling the belt. I reached for a T-shirt and looked across the room. There were my beige shorts lying on my pillow. And my belt.
Wait, what?
“Why are my beige shorts doing over there?” I muttered aloud as I ran my hands along the beige shorts I had just put on.
Trudy overheard me, looked up, and burst into laughter. I had just put on her shorts and buckled her belt around my waist.
“Ahh,” I said, striking a pose. “Do you like my girlish figure?”
2. Ice Cream
The Fair And Industrious Trudy is in Montreal — ergo Friday night dinner at a sub shop she doesn’t particularly like. I sat outdoors in the cool evening 92 degree breeze and ate a Hook and Ladder with Sea Salt chips. And then (the evening breeze was at fault), I walked down to Whole Foods for some ice cream.
It felt like a late-night college dorm run to the rip-off tienda in the basement. I stood at the freezer doors gazing in long-forgotten wonderment. Initially tempted by Caramel and Salt Lick, I settled on Butterscotch Pecan Blondie. My grandfather would have approved.
This was remarkable, because I have not been able to taste anything for almost nine years, including sweets. Since the radiation therapy, ice cream has been nothing but a cool feeling on the inside of my mouth. But oh did that Butterscotch Pecan Blondie taste mighty fine.
So much for that girlish figure.