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.<\/p>\n
Wait, what?<\/em><\/p>\n “Why are my beige shorts doing over there<\/strong><\/em>?” I muttered aloud as I ran my hands along the beige shorts I had just put on.<\/p>\n Trudy overheard me, looked up, and burst into laughter. I had just put on her shorts and buckled her belt around my waist.<\/p>\n “Ahh,” I said, striking a pose. “Do you like my girlish figure?”<\/p>\n The Fair And Industrious Trudy is in Montreal — ergo<\/em> 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. <\/p>\n It felt like a late-night college dorm run to the rip-off tienda<\/em> 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.<\/p>\n 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. <\/em><\/p>\n So much for that girlish figure.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 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 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6447"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6447"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6447\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6449,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6447\/revisions\/6449"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6447"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6447"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/augerhandle.net\/blogs\/jumpingfish\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6447"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}2. Ice Cream<\/h3>\n